When Larry Met Charlie

By Wendy Richards <wendy@lcfanfic.com>

Rated: PG-13

Submitted: August 2003

Author's notes:  This story would not be finished if it wasn't   for the help of so many people. Just after I   started writing it, I went through a period of   writer's block, when for some reason I could   only write short stories. Long stories got   stalled after a couple of dozen pages. However,   thanks to the nagging and encouragement of a   number of IRC friends (you know who you are,   guys!), I finally got to a point where I could   start posting it on the fanfic message boards   (http://www.lcficmbs.com), and there I had even   more encouragement and support. Thanks to all   of you, this epic is now finished.

Even more grateful thanks goes to my beta-  readers. Kaethel and Annette, you cheerled and   generally helped to inspire me, as well as   making useful suggestions along the way.   KathyB, who repaid me many times over for an   advance sight of the whole story by very   helpfully pointing out some errors and   inconsistencies and thereby avoiding my   embarrassment. ;) And, most of all, Yvonne   Connell, BR extraordinaire, who stuck with me   the whole way through this monster. You're just   the best. :)

Finally, the characters in this story are the   property of DC Comics and Warner Brothers. No   infringement of copyright is intended by their   use in this work of fiction, and no profit has   been or ever will be made from this story!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~ When Larry Met Charlie  ~

Part 01

"...it's a great opportunity, Perry! I go   undercover and get to be part of the gang, and   I'll be able to break it open from the inside!"

Perry raised a sceptical eyebrow in her   direction. "Well, it sounds good, Lois, but are   you absolutely sure you can get in? And that   it's not too dangerous? You know the   accountants weren't too happy at the hike in   our insurance premiums last month."

"I still think that was a con," Lois grumbled,   pacing about the editor's office. "It's not as   if I wound up in the hospital that much!"

"Oh? And having your own personal `Lois Lane'   coffee mug at the hospital cafeteria doesn't   mean anything?" Perry drawled.

"I do *not* - " Lois began, objecting.

"Enough," Perry said dryly, interrupting her.   "Anyway, okay, you go do it. And bring back a   great story, y'hear?"

"You bet, Perry!" With a grin, Lois marched   back into the newsroom, already planning her   disguise.

********

"Hey. I'm Larry."

The fortysomething skinhead nodded. "Vinnie.   You done this before?"

Lois shrugged casually. "Few times. Back in   Detroit - until things got too hot."

"Good. Just do as you're told - no solo   activity, no prima donna stuff, and you're in."

"Great!" Lois extended her - carefully grubbied   - hand, taking care to spit on her palm first.   Vinnie did likewise before giving her a hard   handshake.

"Tonight. Where we agreed. Don't be late."

*******

She was in! Vinnie had clearly been completely   fooled by her disguise; she'd have to remember   this one for future reference. The goatee beard   and moustache were perfect, and the grubby   woollen cap disguised her shiny, feminine hair   - she hadn't even needed to cut it. The binding   around her chest concealed her bustline, and   the loose clothing she wore completed the   effect. She looked exactly like a nineteen-  year-old boy.

Her bust felt pretty squished with all the   binding she had to wear, but she could live   with that - it was all worth it in the name of   the exclusive, wasn't it? And this was nothing   like as uncomfortable as some of the disguises   she'd worn in the line of duty. She thought of   the leather cat-suit she'd had to wear a year   or so ago, and grimaced. Though even that   hadn't been as bad as the bunny-girl outfit   with the tighter-than-skin upthrust bustier. Or   the frog costume... but she didn't need to be   reminded of that!

And, thanks to Jimmy's help - just what had   that kid been in Juvy for, anyway? - she knew   how to boost a car and had been able to   demonstrate her talent successfully enough to   convince Vinnie. She was in - she was already   halfway to getting her story.

And, she thought gleefully, perhaps another   award...

********

"Larry. This is Charlie - he's new too. I'm   going to team you two with Snake," Vinnie said   later that night as half a dozen or so people   congregated in the tumbledown brownstone in   Suicide Slum.

Lois studied the man called Snake. He was   medium height and stocky, dressed in army   fatigues and with a crew-cut. He also had a   tattoo of a snake on his cheek - pretty   noticeable, Lois thought. Someone like him   could hardly fade into the crowd. These guys   clearly believed that no-one was actually going   to see them doing what they did.

Still, it would mean that she'd have no   difficulty at all in describing him to the   police once that became necessary.

She turned to glance at the other man -   Charlie. And she felt her heart tilt   dizzyingly.

He was tall - around six feet, she guessed.   Well-built, with a magnificent pair of   shoulders. His hair was long and untidy and   looked as if it needed a wash, and he wore   stained jeans and a grimy sweatshirt, with a   leather jacket that had seen better days. But   his jaw was firm and strong, even partly   covered as it was by a thin growth of beard,   and his eyes...

He wore fairly nondescript glasses, but as he   met her gaze all she was conscious of was the   dark brown intensity of his stare. And she felt   as if she'd been hit by a bolt of lightning.

Who was this Charlie?

A car thief, she reminded herself. No-one she   could even for one second contemplate being   attracted to.

<You're going to be handing him over to the   cops, along with the rest of these punks> she   reminded herself caustically.

She looked away from him, breaking eye contact   in spite of the strange, insistent longing from   somewhere inside her to carry on looking at   him. In spite of the totally baffling   conviction she seemed to be feeling that this   piece of street-scum was her destiny...

*******

Yawning, Lois hit `save' for the final time on   her file of notes from the night's work. She   stretched, again feeling grateful for the lack   of binding around her chest; it had been sheer   relief to take it off once she'd got home. It   had been a very fruitful evening, she thought   in satisfaction as she got up and headed for   the bathroom and then bed, knowing that she   could only afford to cat-nap for about three   hours. Still, the lack of sleep was no big   deal. It was worth it for the sake of what she   knew was going to be another great story.

She'd learned that the car-theft ring operated   in groups of two normally; because she and   Charlie were both new, they'd been sent out   with Snake, but once the gang considered them   to be sufficiently trustworthy, they'd fall   into the normal working pattern. Lois herself   had been involved in the theft of three cars,   and from what she'd been able to tell, at least   a dozen vehicles - all high-value and many of   them imports such as Mercedes-Benz and BMWs -   had been acquired in all.

She now understood the thieves' methods -   they'd drive to an upmarket area, carrying   equipment to disable security lights or motion   sensors, quickly break into the target vehicle   and one of them would drive it away, taking it   to the temporary compound, an abandoned   warehouse also located in Suicide Slum. Car   alarms were no problem to these operators,   she'd quickly found - and she now knew how to   disable the most common alarm. Once in the   compound, she discovered, cars would have their   licence-plates and chassis identity numbers   changed and would be swiftly shipped out of the   state.

But she didn't yet have enough information to   blow the whole thing open. She knew how they   worked and where the cars were stored, sure;   but she hadn't yet found out who was behind it   all. Cars were stolen to order, she'd   discovered: all the teams had been given   instructions as to exactly where they were to   go and which vehicles to get - she'd been   surprised to find, on one trip, that they took   a baby BMW convertible and left behind the more   expensive X5 SUV.

So who gave the orders? Who ran the show?

She had to find the answers to those questions   before she could write the story - well, before   she could go to the police, she reminded   herself.

Yawning again, she slid between the sheets of   her bed.

But as she closed her eyes, the image of a face   swam before her lids.

Charlie. Charlie King, she'd discovered later   in the evening. His good looks, even marred by   his overall scruffiness, were undeniable. And   his voice... For some reason, she hadn't   expected a guy like him to have such a soft,   gentle voice. And his eyes... Several times   during the few hours they'd been working   together, she'd glanced at him only to find him   looking at her, and every time she'd felt a   peculiar sensation as her gaze had met his.   She'd even found herself fancying that his dark   gaze was caressing her...

Though that was completely ludicrous, she'd   told herself with an incredulous shake of her   head. He thought she was a man - well, a youth.   A guy called Larry.

He was strong, too, she'd noticed: one of the   cars they'd lifted had large blocks in front of   the wheels. Snake hadn't been able to move   them, and Lois had tried with no success at   all. Yet Charlie had kicked them out of the way   with little apparent effort. He was clearly   very experienced at car theft - he'd had the   job of breaking into one of their target   vehicles, and he'd had the door open in under a   second.

He was obviously a hardened criminal, she told   herself firmly. And that meant that she had to   put him out of her mind. He was going to jail,   along with the rest of the gang.

It was such a shame... Someone with his looks   and his obvious intelligence - although they   hadn't talked much, what little he'd said   indicated to her that he was far from stupid -   could have done so much better for himself.

And if he had, if he hadn't chosen a life of   crime, if she'd met him in different   circumstances, what could they have been to   each other?

Nothing, she told herself wryly. She'd likely   never have met him. After all, what might he   have done instead of becoming a thief? Driven a   taxi? Been a street-cop? Worked as a janitor or   night security guard? It was unlikely that   their paths would have crossed.

And anyway, how did she know that he wasn't   married? Or involved with someone, at least?

Forget him, she told herself harshly.   Concentrate on the *story*!

**********

Clark typed the final line with a flourish,   then ripped the page from his portable   typewriter and, gathering the sheets together,   read over his story.

`Diary of a Car Thief.' It wasn't exactly   ground-breaking stuff, but it was human   interest: an insight into the mindset of a   criminal, one engaged in the kind of theft   which affected ordinary Americans. And it was   the kind of story, he hoped, which would get   him the big break he'd come to Metropolis for:   a reporting job at the Daily Planet.

He'd intended to apply for the job he almost   thought of as his already as soon as he arrived   in the city. But, looking through his portfolio   again a week or so ago, he'd become consumed   with insecurity. His best work was in there...   and yet it looked flimsy. His most recent   writing, for example, was on pretty esoteric   topics, pieces he'd written for the Borneo   Gazette, on subject-matter he really couldn't   see a man like Perry White being interested in.   And his more newsworthy stories were from a few   years ago.

He'd decided that he needed some more recent   examples of what he could do. So, leaving   Smallville a few days earlier than he'd   intended, he'd arrived in the city a couple of   days ago, intending to find something local to   Metropolis that he could write about and, with   any luck, show to Perry White to persuade him   that Clark Kent, the reporter from Kansas, was   worth hiring.

And he'd struck lucky. Poking around one of the   city's murkier areas in search of local colour,   something he could maybe write a human-  interest, socially-conscious article about -   Clark knew he was good at that sort of thing.   Anyway, he'd overheard, entirely due to his   special abilities, two people talking and   complaining about having lost a couple of good   operatives lately. Listening further, he'd   discovered that they were part of a theft and   distribution racket. His first thought had been   to report them to the police, but on reflection   he'd realised that there was nothing he could   have given the cops to go on.

But he'd started thinking then... and later,   he'd made himself look scruffy and had   engineered a meeting with one of the men he'd   seen, introducing himself as Charlie King, an   experienced operative in their line of work.   And now he was part of the gang.

There wasn't quite enough in the story yet to   make it saleable, though; he'd need to spend at   least one more night out with the gang to get   sufficient material. Not that Clark especially   enjoyed being a part of criminal behaviour -   far from it. And he was sorely tempted, right   now, to fly over to the warehouse where they   stored the stolen cars and return them all to   their owners.

But, he reasoned, that wouldn't do anything to   ensure that the thieves were caught - and that   was one thing he was determined to do before he   was finished with this. So far, he had little   to go on; it was pretty clear that the people   he'd seen were only minions. There was a big   boss somewhere, and Clark needed to listen very   carefully, even use his abilities to sneak   around a bit, to find out who that boss was.   And come up with enough evidence against him to   allow the police to do their job.

Of course, he couldn't help recognising that if   he did manage to do that, it would make him an   even better proposition for the Planet.

Glancing down at his story again, Clark mused   briefly over the character studies he'd created   - all using pseudonyms, of course. Vinnie and   Snake, naturally... and Larry.

Larry.

Why could he not get that crazy kid out of his   mind?

Maybe it was because he was just a kid. Clark   thought he couldn't have been much more than   nineteen. What a waste of a young life! Larry   should be in college, or starting his first   proper job, at his age. But then, he reasoned,   the kid had probably been dabbling in crime   most of his life.

He just couldn't understand what it was about   Larry which had fascinated him. The kid wasn't   especially remarkable - not particularly tall,   a wispy goatee of a beard on otherwise smooth   features which only highlighted his extreme   youth, and dirty clothing and that awful hat.

And those eyes...

Deep brown eyes, which seemed to see right   through him, to look into his soul. Eyes soft   as a doe's, with beautifully curved lashes   which Clark would just bet were smooth as silk   to touch.

And Larry's hands, grimy as they were and with   grubby fingernails too, were slender and well-  shaped.

<Stop it, Kent!> he commanded himself, aghast.   He was *not* attracted to that juvenile   delinquent! That *male* juvenile delinquent!   Clark recoiled at the unbidden thought.

Although he couldn't help wishing that he could   help the kid to see the error of his ways, and   maybe help him to break away from his life of   crime. If only...

*********

Keeping her eyes and ears open, Lois spent the   following night trying to track down clues to   the theft ring's leader. The guy clearly kept   himself as anonymous as possible, she decided   after discreetly questioning Snake and one or   two other gang members. No-one seemed to know   anything, and she was pretty sure that they   weren't just saying that to shut up a nosy kid.

At the same time, she found herself having to   cope with Charlie, who for some reason was   behaving in a very strange manner towards her.   They were on the same team again, and for the   first hour or so he'd seemed to be avoiding   her. He'd barely glanced in her direction and,   while she wouldn't have thought anything of   that, she did notice that on the one occasion   she did catch him looking at her, he looked   away again very quickly, almost as if he felt   ashamed to be seen watching her.

Guilty.

She frowned as she looked away herself. What   was Charlie's problem with her? She thought he   was attractive, even in spite of her better   judgement about his character. Not that she   could understand this completely ludicrous   attraction to him. He was a car thief, after   all - someone without ethics, who made his   living by depriving other people of their hard-  earned property. He'd probably never done an   honest day's work in his life! She despised   people like Charlie King.

And since when had she found grunge in any way   attractive? Her taste in men had been the same   for years: well-educated, elegantly dressed,   cultured men in respectable occupations. Men   she could respect, and who would win the   respect of her parents should she decide to   introduce them. Not someone she'd be ashamed to   take anywhere!

Always assuming that he didn't wind up in jail   before their first date...

But what was she thinking? This ridiculous   attraction to Charlie King couldn't possibly go   anywhere.

Yet she did undeniably find him attractive.

So what was so wrong about him thinking the   same -

- except that, to this gang of thieves, she   was a man. Larry Long.

Lois stilled. Was Charlie... attracted to   `Larry'? But that would mean he was...

Before crushing disappointment could surge   through her, she quelled it severely. Charlie   was a *criminal*! He stole other people's   expensive property, without a qualm, she   reminded herself yet again. And it was her   intention to see him in jail, along with the   rest of them.

Once she managed to find out who was running   the show, of course...

********

Clark felt as if he was going crazy. He   couldn't get Larry out of his mind! He was   conscious of the kid the whole time; his senses   were busy keeping track of Larry at every   second, instead of doing what they were   supposed to do. He *should* be trying to find   out who was behind the operation. And with his   extra abilities, that shouldn't be difficult. A   conversation overheard here, a piece of paper   read from a distance there... he should have   what he needed without anyone being any the   wiser.

Instead of which, he was trying not to watch   Larry.

Clark had *never* been attracted to another man   before. Not ever. Not even in the most   disinterested way. It wasn't that he had   anything against the *idea* that men could be   attracted to other men; he just wasn't made   that way.

Or, at least, he'd always assumed that he   wasn't. Taken it for granted, he supposed. He   was attracted to women; of course he was! He'd   fancied Lana Lang for ages before she'd finally   agreed to date him. And, along with most of his   classmates in Smallville High, he'd fantasised   about Farrah Fawcett and Darryl Hannah, not to   mention Catherine Bach. He'd gone with his   friend to movies just to see their idol of the   moment. Like his friends, he'd played Cindy   Lauper records over and over, listening to her   voice and staring at her semi-clad picture   gazing out at him from the album cover. And,   with a blush, he remembered even sneaking peeks   at a girlie magazine or two as they were passed   around in the locker-room.

And feeling... interested.

Of course he was attracted to women! And he'd   never felt any kind of attraction to another   man. This thing with Larry had to be his   imagination. That was it. He was imagining it   all, this strange compulsion he seemed to be   feeling whenever the kid was around.

It wasn't even as if Larry was all that good-  looking, as men went. He wasn't even medium   height, and he was thin and not remotely   muscular, although the sloppy sweatshirt and   jacket he wore hid any musculature he might   have around his chest and shoulders. His hair   was scruffy and hidden under that dirty hat.   And his fingernails were grimy... Why had he   noticed that?

No, he was *definitely* not attracted to men.   Or to Larry in particular.

But he had such soft lashes around those deep   brown eyes of his...

********

Part 02

The next night, Lois and Charlie were again   sent out with Snake. And despite the rush of   pleasure she'd felt when she'd discovered that   she'd be working with Charlie again, Lois was   sorry for it. She didn't want to spend hours in   the close proximity of a man she felt so   attracted to. Not when this was a job. When she   had to keep her mind fixed firmly on her   *work*. And when he was a thief, one of the   gang of criminals she was there to investigate.

Charlie King was out of bounds, but for some   reason her hormones didn't seem to want to   recognise that.

It hadn't just been a fleeting attraction, Lois   realised within seconds of seeing Charlie   again. He was lounging casually against the   side of the anonymous-looking sedan car they   were to use that evening, that disreputable   woollen cap perched on his head. He'd raised a   hand in greeting as she approached, giving her   a crooked smile of welcome. And her heart had   immediately gone flippety-flop.

Charlie. The car-thief. The criminal. The most   gorgeous man she'd ever met!

Stealing a surreptitious glance at him while   pretending to look over their night's   itinerary, Lois found herself wondering what it   would be like to be kissed by him. What his   stubbled face and jaw would feel like against   her own smooth skin...

...except her skin wasn't smooth at the moment,   she reminded herself, deliberately bringing   herself back to reality by running her hand   across the fake beard she wore. She was   disguised as a man. Even if Charlie might   possibly find Lois Lane attractive in return,   he certainly wasn't going to find Larry Long   attractive, was he?

Making herself ignore him, Lois went over to   Snake and started a conversation with him,   using the opportunity to try to find out more   about the operation and those behind it. But,   as on the two previous evenings, Snake either   didn't know anything or was deliberately   keeping quiet. She got nowhere.

Stonewalled again. But that, Lois vowed,   wouldn't last. She was going to get to the   bottom of who was in charge here and break this   gang open. Lois Lane *always* got the story,   after all.

Tonight, she was again with Charlie and Snake,   and Snake led them over to a sedan with an old-  fashioned bench seat in front. "You sit in the   middle, Larry - you're skinny enough to fit   between Charlie and me."

Charlie opened the passenger door and gestured   at Lois. "After you."

Without glancing at him, she climbed in and   slid across. Snake got in at the same time, his   stocky build ensuring that Lois had to edge   back towards Charlie's side of the car in order   to have enough room - and to give herself just   a little distance from Snake's too-obvious body   odour. And then Charlie got in, and Lois found   her thigh pressed right up against his.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "I guess there's not   that much room in here after all."

She couldn't afford to let the fact that his   closeness bothered her show in any way.   Affecting a nonchalant shrug - which only made   her shoulder brush Charlie's - she said   carelessly, remembering to keep her voice   gruff, "It's not a problem. Anyway, it won't be   for long."

"True," Charlie agreed, and then he leaned   forward to address a question to Snake, about   the vehicle they were on their way to 'lift',   as he put it.

The journey might have been short, but to Lois   it felt like an eternity. Seated close to   Charlie as she was, she was aware of him every   inch of the way. Every time he shifted so much   as a muscle, she felt it - her heart thudded   and her stomach seemed to go flip-flop. Every   one of her senses seemed to be aware of   Charlie. She couldn't even concentrate on their   route, or on anything Snake said, because all   of her being was entirely focused on Charlie.   She didn't want this awareness, but she   couldn't seem to do anything to make it go   away.

His hand moved to rest on his lap, long fingers   extended and drumming slightly. Lois's   overactive imagination immediately started to   wonder what it would be like to have those   fingers stroking her face, running through her   hair, roaming over her body. Would he be   gentle? Or rough and demanding? What would his   lips be like? Hot and fiery? Soft and yielding?   Or - heaven forbid - wet and rubbery?

"Stop it!" she told herself furiously. When   Snake announced that they'd reached their   destination, she gave a huge inward sigh of   relief.

*********

Clark gladly volunteered to be the one to drive   their latest theft back to the compound.   Sitting beside Larry had been sheer torture. It   seemed that he was aware of every breath the   boy took, every movement of every muscle and   sinew. Even Larry's scent... and that had been   incomprehensible. Clark suspected that it was   only his extra-sensitive sense of smell which   was allowing him to notice anything, but for a   moment he could have sworn that Larry was - or   had been - wearing some type of *feminine*   perfume.

He had to have been imagining it. There was   just no way...

For a moment, he'd been tempted to engage his   special abilities fully, to see whether he   really had smelt it, or if he was just   imagining things. But he hadn't done it. He   *had* to focus on putting these mad, *insane*   feelings out of his mind. And the only way to   do that was to focus his attention on anything   but Larry.

None of it made sense. He welcomed none of it -   the tension which permeated his body whenever   Larry was near, this insane desire he had - and   had experienced just a couple of minutes ago,   too - to reach out and caress the kid. To run   his hand across Larry's lap as the other man   had been sitting next to him. To stroke his   cheek and see if it felt as smooth and soft as   it looked. To see if those lips were as soft   and tempting as they appeared...

Was he going *crazy*?

Or was it something to do with him being   different? Clark's hand paused as he reached   out to the Lexus he was about to steal. That   was a possibility. After all, he and his   parents still hadn't managed to work out just   where he was from or what he was. They didn't   even know if he was human or not. There were so   many possibilities, and many of them worse than   others - he could be some sort of genetic   experiment by some government or other from the   Cold War period, some sort of mutant - or even,   he supposed, an alien from outer space, always   supposing that there was life on other planets   and that they had devised means of space   travel. And, if that was the case, he'd thought   on too many occasions, what must his parents,   his family - always assuming that society on   this hypothetic other planet recognised the   concept of families, always assuming that their   children weren't conceived and gestated in some   artificial manner - have been like to have sent   their child, a tiny baby, many millions of   miles away, alone?

Regardless of any of this, he *was* different.   He might look human; most of his body might   function in a humanoid manner. But some parts   of it did not. After all, a human male was not   able to lift very heavy objects, run at extreme   speeds, see through solid objects and hear   sounds from long distances away. Nor could any   normal human set things on fire with his eyes,   or freeze things with his breath. Or fly.

So just what rule of not-human biology was   there to say that he - whatever manner of   creature or being that he was - couldn't be   attracted sexually to men as well as women?

His own squeamishness, for one, he answered   himself instantly. He liked men, but as   friends. *Not* as... well, as lovers.   Boyfriends. And he didn't *want* to be   attracted to men.

Oh, sure, he was different. But, please, not   different in that way! It had never even   occurred to him that *he* might be like that,   and he just didn't want it.

Guiltily, he realised that he was reacting in a   way which made him feel uncomfortable about his   own levels of tolerance. Acceptance, his father   had always recommended. Don't judge other   people. It wasn't his place to criticise. It   wasn't his place to dictate what was wrong or   right about something which wasn't hurting   anyone else, no matter what he himself   believed.

But, he reasoned as he made himself consider it   rationally, his reaction wasn't based on   prejudice. His dream, what he wanted most from   his own life, was marriage, a family. Children.   And... if he was attracted to men, not women,   then that dream was just that - a dream, and no   more. After all, if being not-human made him   different in that way, would it be fair to ask   any woman to accept him as he was?

It didn't bear thinking about.

The sooner he could get proof about who was   behind this operation, the better. Then he   could quit, write up his story, get his job at   the Planet and never have to see Larry Long   ever again. Safety beckoned - if only he could   get the information he needed. This evening,   preferably. Clark really wasn't sure that he   could go through another evening like this one   - and this one had barely started.

Worse still, was Larry in any way aware of the   insane thoughts which were running through his   head? The kid had seemed unnaturally still in   the car, as if he was so tense he was afraid to   move a muscle. Just nervousness about the night   ahead - or had he somehow worked out what   'Charlie' was thinking and was doing his best   to avoid being anywhere near him?

The thought made Clark shudder. It was bad   enough that he was feeling this way, without   having anyone else aware of it - and especially   not the object of his totally impossible,   unwanted attraction.

Once he'd broken into the car they were after -   and Clark still felt like a criminal himself as   he did so - he watched Larry and Snake drive   off with a sigh of relief. At least half an   hour before he'd have to sit beside Larry   again. And, if he was lucky, by then whatever   ludicrous thing was happening to his hormones   would have settled down. He hoped.

********

Tonight. She had to get the information she   needed tonight. This was her fourth evening out   with the car thieves, and if she didn't get   results soon Perry would take her off the   investigation and give her something else to   work on. Probably something unutterably boring,   like analysing the city council's pathetic   environmental agenda. Yet more recycling   schemes, and since the sub-committee had   withdrawn its proposal to ban SUVs and pick-ups   from the city centre, there was nothing at all   controversial about it any longer. A real   yawner of a story.

Now, this was real investigative work. And   tonight she was determined to get to the bottom   of it.

After a few hours, at some time after three in   the morning, she and Charlie were sent, on   their own, to acquire an Audi SUV. That would   be her chance, Lois decided: they'd have to   split up once they'd broken into the car, since   one of them had to drive it back to the   warehouse. And she could give him the slip and   do some snooping around, something she knew she   was very good at.

She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about   being alone with Charlie. In one way, it was a   bad thing, since he was new, like her, and   therefore was unlikely to know any more about   the operation than she did. In fact, given her   reason for being part of this gang, he more   than likely knew less. So pumping him for   information would be even less profitable than   asking Snake questions - despite her enthusiasm   at being left alone in the sedan with Snake the   previous night, the older man had barely   grunted in response to most of her questions,   and shrugged in answer to the remainder. Again,   she'd been left to conclude that either he   didn't know the answers, or was being very   careful not to give anything away.

Charlie, the newbie, would know nothing at all.   From her perspective, then, he was completely   useless. And yet...

And yet she was still attracted to him and,   despite knowing how impossible it was, despite   despising herself for her inability to convince   herself that she was *not* interested in him, a   large part of her wanted to take every   opportunity possible to spend time with Charlie   King. After all, there wouldn't be many more,   she was sure of that. She was absolutely   determined to bring this investigation to an   end at the earliest possible opportunity, and   if she succeeded, then she would never see   Charlie again after tonight. Well, only if she   reported his trial, of course.

So she climbed into the car beside him and said   a gruff, "Okay, let's hit the road."

Charlie drove to the address they'd been given.   Again, he seemed to avoid looking at her unless   it was unavoidable. But, a few minutes into the   journey, he said abruptly, "So, what's a kid   like you doing getting into something like   this?"

"What's it to you?" she muttered in a surly   voice.

Charlie shrugged, seeming a little   uncomfortable, Lois thought. "You're still a   kid. You've got your whole life ahead of you.   Do you really want to risk a jail sentence?"

"What makes you think it'd be my first?" Lois   threw at him, deliberately aiming for bravado.

Charlie sighed and said nothing, focusing on   his driving in a way which seemed to emphasise   his disapproval of her answer.

"Like I said, what's it to you?" Lois   persisted. "You on some kind of `learn from my   mistakes' kick?"

"Would that be so bad?" he asked, his voice   soft. Its sound sent shivers through her, and   Lois had to blink hard to prevent herself   looking at him. He sounded so concerned, so   caring... so nice! She didn't want to like him,   dammit!

And what was he up to, anyway? Trying to   turning over a new leaf or something? If he   was, then what was he doing here? Up to his   neck in criminal activity - that was no way to   make a new, crime-free start. Or was he, in   some misguided way, trying to make up for his   own criminality by dissuading someone else from   a life of crime?

Didn't that suggest that at least he had a   conscience?

*But she didn't want to like Charlie King!* She   *couldn't* let herself like him. As soon as   she'd got the information she needed, she'd be   putting in a call to a contact of hers in the   MPD's larceny division. And Charlie, along with   Snake and Vinnie and the rest of them, would be   going down.

"It's none of your business what I do," Lois   growled, being deliberately off-putting.

"Sure," Charlie agreed. "I guess I was just   hoping that you might consider... Still, it's   your life - there's just so much more you could   make of it."

"Yeah, yeah," Lois drawled. "And next you'll   tell me that a man can fly."

"Uhh..." she heard Charlie mutter, and she   glanced sharply at him; he seemed to be biting   his lip.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he said, with what sounded like a   sigh. "But I mean it, Larry. If you want to get   out of this line of work, I could probably help   you. You know, maybe help you get a legitimate   job. You could leave all this behind you and   start again."

Surprised, she stared at him. What kind of car   thief was this guy, anyway? He must really be   regretting his own choices, she mused   thoughtfully. She was glad to hear it; did that   mean that he was thinking of getting out of the   game himself?

She decided to test him. "So, you taking your   own advice, then?"

That took him by surprise, she noticed. He   blinked, and his hands tightened on the   steering-wheel. After a few moments, he   muttered, "It's a bit late for me."

"Hardly, if you're serious," she snorted.

"Maybe I'm happy with the way things are,"   Charlie replied, but he sounded uncomfortable.

So. He didn't like what he was doing and knew   it was wrong, but he had no intention of   mending his ways and leading a law-abiding   life. Probably too used to living off the   proceeds, Lois thought cynically. Good   intentions were all very well, but it took   commitment and self-sacrifice to make them   work, and clearly Charlie King had neither.

The silence extended for a couple of minutes,   until Charlie finally broke it. "Anyway, here   we are." He drew the car up outside a large   suburban house, where an Audi SUV was parked on   the driveway. "You want to grab this one, or   will I?"

"You take it," Lois said quickly. This was her   chance. She only had to wait until Charlie was   inside the SUV with the engine running; then   she could drive off, and if she put her foot   down, she'd get back to their base long before   Charlie could. That would give her time to do   the snooping she needed.

Smiling to herself in anticipation, she slid   across to the driving seat.

********

Clark was surprised, though glad, to see Larry   drive off so quickly. He immediately cut the   SUV's engine, though - this was his chance, at   last, to get away alone and do the snooping he   needed. And then he could make his exit from   car-thievery. Leaving the car exactly where it   was - there was one owner who would never know   how close he or she had come to losing their   property, he mused wryly -  he exited at faster   than human speed and, finding somewhere dark,   shot up into the air.

Back at the thieves' base, he hovered under   cover of darkness and used his vision powers to   see inside. Vinnie was there, with two other   men Clark didn't recognise. Concentrating, he   listened in on their conversation... and   realised that he'd struck gold.

The older of the two strangers clearly ran the   show. That was obvious from the way the two   other men deferred to him and by the   instructions he was giving. No names were   mentioned, which was disappointing - but,   judging by their conversation, the men were   planning to hang around to do an inventory of   the latest stolen cars. So he had time.

He could call the police; they would get here   while the gang was still safely ensconced and   they'd be caught red-handed. Clark could then   stick around to get the exclusive on the   arrests, and possibly a couple of interviews.   His eyewitness account of the arrests, combined   with his participant observation of the gang of   thieves, should definitely be enough to impress   Perry White and, he hoped, get him the job he   so longed for.

Less than a second later, he was dialling from   a payphone.

********

Dumping the getaway car in a side-street, Lois   crept out and around the back of the warehouse   where the thieves made their base. If she could   just get into the small office she knew was at   the back, then maybe she could find some   identifying paperwork which would give her the   identity of the boss or bosses. And then she   could take it for her story, and then call the   cops. And bingo! Another front-page splash;   more evidence that Lois Lane was the best   investigative reporter in the business.

She moved stealthily around the building,   looking for a back entrance or perhaps a window   through which she could get in without being   seen. There were a few windows, but all were at   least five feet above street level - not easy   without something to stand on. Glancing   cautiously around, Lois noticed a few small   dumpsters a little further down the alley, and   she hurried over to grab one. It was about   half-full, which made it heavy but also, she   thought, sturdy enough to bear her weight. It   was a struggle to drag it back up to the window   she'd identified as, she hoped, belonging to   the office in the back of the warehouse,   especially as she was trying to be as silent as   possible. Finally, she managed to manoeuvre it   into position, and she climbed onto the top.

Peering carefully through the window, she could   see dimly that she was looking into an office -   the small back office she'd known was there.   Success! Now all she had to do was prise the   window open and climb down inside. The office   was empty, but she thought she could see   paperwork lying untidily on the desk. She just   hoped that there was no-one lurking around who   would see or hear her in the room.

Securing her entrance was the work of a couple   of minutes; the window-frame was old and the   fastening not too secure. The small penknife   she always carried with her provided the   necessary leverage, and she was soon jumping   carefully down into the office itself. The room   was in near-darkness, but one of the   attachments on her penknife was a small   Maglight, which provided a tiny beam of light   just sufficient to see the documents.

And she'd struck gold, she immediately   realised. The papers detailed purchasing and   shipping arrangements for the stolen cars, as   well as specific orders for the models to be   sold. And there were names: of purchasers, and   of the man behind the outfit. She'd never heard   of Damien Ridgeway before, but he was going to   be a household name very soon, Lois decided   with an exultant grin.

Stuffing the papers hurriedly inside her bulky   jacket, she dragged a chair over to the window   and made her escape quickly, dragging the   window shut behind her. In a couple of seconds,   she was back on the ground and shoving the   dumpster several feet away from the window -   she had no wish to advertise the fact that   she'd been in the sanctum.

She'd been lucky; she'd known, of course, that   someone could come in at any moment and she'd   have had no excuse for her presence. But then,   as she always argued when anyone questioned her   attitude to risk-taking, if she didn't take   risks then she wouldn't get the story. And that   was what mattered, wasn't it? Caution was for   wimps - and wimps didn't win awards for   investigative journalism.

Right; it was time to call the cavalry, or at   least the police in the shape of her contact in   Larceny. It really was about time Perry issued   his reporters with cellphones, Lois thought in   irritation as she headed to the end of the   alley and tried to work out where the nearest   payphone was. It would be so much more   efficient in so many ways.

She reached the corner and debated whether to   go left or right, reluctant to pass near the   front of the warehouse in case Snake or Charlie   or any of the others saw her and wondered what   she was doing. She should, of course, have   returned by now to pick up Charlie and receive   their next assignment.

Charlie... who would go to jail along with the   others once she called in the information. But   that was the way it should be, wasn't it? she   reminded herself. He was a criminal. He made   his living stealing from other people. The fact   that he was devastatingly attractive, in a   grungy, scruffy manner, was completely   irrelevant.

She should have no sympathy for him. He didn't   deserve any.

His face swam before her eyes again; those   liquid brown eyes, which had looked at her with   such concern earlier as he'd tried to persuade   `Larry' to see the error of his ways. His soft   voice. The way he'd gestured with his hand, as   if to demonstrate the strength of his feelings.

His devastatingly attractive smile, which she'd   noticed for the first time when she'd arrived   that evening. He'd caught sight of her and, to   her surprise, his eyes had seemed to light up   and he'd smiled. She'd caught a flash of very   white, even teeth, and she'd gone weak at the   knees. That smile should come with a health   warning, she'd thought.

Had he any idea of the effect it had?

Probably not, she told herself. After all, he   thought she was a man. A kid.

Unless her half-formed thought was right...   unless Charlie was attracted to men.

<What a waste...>

It was *not* a waste! Lois reminded herself   furiously. She was *not* interested in Charlie   King! He could hardly be further from the sort   of man who was her type. And he was street-  scum. A criminal. Someone who had no interest   at all in rehabilitating himself.

He was going to jail. And that was where he   belonged. He'd probably get around three years,   unless he had previous convictions, in which   case he could get five or six.

Prison wasn't a pleasant place. Lois knew that   very well, having on several occasions seen the   inside of a couple of Metropolis's prisons: the   state penitentiary, which was on the outskirts   of the city, and the county jail. Prisoners   spent long hours of every day locked in their   cells. Their narrow, cramped, dark cells. They   were locked up with other criminals, many of   whom had committed far worse crimes than   stealing a few cars. And many of whom who would   find an attractive man like Charlie an   irresistible challenge.

Lois shivered at the thought. Would he be safe   in prison?

But that wasn't her problem! Why was she   concerned about Charlie King, anyway? He was a   criminal. He belonged in jail. He deserved what   he had coming to him. And that was the end of   it.

So she found him a little bit attractive. So   what? She'd have forgotten him in a couple of   days. Of course she would.

She forced him from her mind and focused on   getting to the nearest payphone. Left. Away   from the thieves' depot would be safer, she   decided, before noticing the familiar logo of a   Lex Communications payphone booth across the   road and a little way up from the warehouse.   Abruptly changing direction, she headed for it.

And suddenly someone grabbed her from behind,   clamping one hand around her stomach to pull   her tightly back against a hard, strong body,   and another hand covering her mouth so that she   could barely breathe. Despite her struggles,   she was dragged almost effortlessly backwards   and into the alley from which she'd just   emerged.

<Damn!> she cursed silently, kicking out at her   captor for all she was worth.

********

Clark had been heading back towards the depot,   intending to be in place when the police   arrived so that he could get an eyewitness   account of the arrests. The officer he'd spoken   to, once she'd been convinced that he was on   the level  and really did have a major theft   ring to hand to them on a plate, had promised   to have a plainclothes team there within   minutes, with uniformed backup not far behind.

As he got closer, he scanned the interior of   the depot with his special vision. The two men   he'd seen earlier with Vinnie were still there,   along with a few of the team of thieves. The   police should be able to make plenty of   arrests, Clark thought in satisfaction.

As he refocused on the street, he noticed a   slight figure walking hurriedly towards the   warehouse. A very familiar slight figure...   someone he'd been spending time at very close   quarters with, at a lot of personal discomfort.

Larry.

Clark's mouth tightened as he watched the kid,   and he frowned. It hadn't been his imagination.   The last three nights, he'd had to keep a tight   grip on his control to prevent himself staring   at Larry, staring at him admiringly just as he   might have looked at a woman he was attracted   to. It didn't make sense. He was *not*   attracted to men! And certainly not a runt of a   scruffy teenager.

That wasn't fair, Clark mentally castigated   himself. His mom would have his hide for being   so rude about someone else.

But it was still true. Larry was *nothing* like   the kind of person Clark had been attracted to   previously. He wasn't even female, for a start!   Clark still couldn't figure out what on earth   was going on. Why, every time he so much as   looked at the kid, did he want to get closer,   to find out everything about him and even to   hold him in his arms?

He hadn't felt like that since he was at high   school and in love with Lana!

Not that he'd ever really loved Lana, Clark   reminded himself. He'd liked her a lot and,   yes, he'd felt lust for her, just like every   other teenage boy around when it came to his   girlfriend. But never love. In fact, he'd never   felt love for anyone. Never had that sensation   all the books and love-songs talked about, that   feeling of utter helplessness in the face of   overwhelming emotion. That need for the loved   one; to see them, to be with them, to talk to   them - to want to know that they were safe.

Safe.

Larry wasn't safe. In fact, right now he was   walking right into a trap. The police were due   any minute now.

The kid was a car-thief, he reminded himself   bleakly. And, from the way he'd been talking   earlier, he'd been in prison already. He wasn't   new to a life of crime. And he clearly had no   intention or desire to change his way of life.   Being arrested, going to jail, was no doubt   what he deserved. And anyway, it might be the   making of him. Maybe this time he'd learn his   lesson and become rehabilitated.

He should leave things as they were. Let Larry   be arrested.

He couldn't do it. In an instant, Clark was   behind Larry; he grabbed the kid, covering his   mouth so that Larry couldn't yell out, and   dragged him back towards the alley.

Larry was kicking and struggling for all he was   worth; for such a slender kid, he was   surprisingly agile. He knew martial arts too,   Clark realised quickly. It was just as well he   was stronger than normal men; it wasn't   inconceivable that Larry could have escaped   someone else's hold.

"Cut it out, Larry!" Clark hissed in his ear as   he backed into the alley. "I'm trying to save   your skin!"

He felt the man in his arms freeze. "Wha - "   Larry struggled to yell, sounding furious, and   Clark realised that he still had his hand over   the kid's mouth. Just as well, he thought.   Larry seemed angry enough to yell the place   down.

"Look," he muttered quickly. "The cops are on   their way. I know, because I called them.   Everyone's going to be arrested. You want to go   to jail?"

He could feel Larry's shock; what was more, the   kid made another attempt to escape. Gripping   him more tightly, Clark hissed, "Don't be   stupid! Look, trust me - I'm trying to help you   here!"

His voice came out more gruffly than he'd   intended, partly because holding Larry so   tightly against his chest was doing strange   things to his reactions yet again. Clark tried   to squash the rush of sensation which made him   want to soften his grip, turn it into a caress   instead of an imprisoning hold. *Why* was he   feeling like this?            And then Larry's struggling movements made   Clark's hand slide up the kid's chest, and with   a huge surge of relief he realised why.

Larry wasn't a man. She was a woman.

********

Part 03

*Charlie* had called the police? What on earth   was going on? That was her job, Lois thought,   confused, as she struggled to free herself from   his grasp. What did he think he was doing? Why   would he, one of the gang, betray the others?

And how *dare* he grab her like that? Manhandle   her? Keep his filthy hand over her mouth? It   wasn't as if she had anything to fear from the   cops anyway!

But of course he didn't know that...

Not that it mattered! He had no right to grab   her like that! She kicked out at him again,   trying to loop her foot around his ankle at the   same time. He was too fast and strong for her,   though: yet again he dodged her manoeuvre.

And then suddenly his arms fell from around her   and he jumped back as if he'd been scalded.

She spun around to give him an accusing glare   and a piece of her mind, but the expression of   utter shock on his face stopped her.

"You're a woman!" he hissed.

Ah. Oh. Uh-uh...

But he had been holding her across her chest,   Lois realised. So it was probably only to be   expected that he'd figure it out. But   unfortunate, all the same. On the other hand,   she could probably brazen it out.

"So what?" she threw at him. Attack was always   the best form of defence anyway. "What's it to   you, King? And anyway, what the heck's going on   here? What do you mean, you called the cops?"

He took a deep breath, drawing himself upright   in the process and reminding her just how tall   and broad-shouldered he was. "I called the   police. The whole gang's going to be arrested   any minute now. And - call me foolish - I   thought I'd give you a chance to get away.   Because you're just a - well, I thought you   were just a kid. But you're not, are you?"

"That's none of your business," Lois snapped   hurriedly, now desperate to get back to the   warehouse to see what was going on. Her story   was in danger of evaporating right under her   nose if she didn't hurry! Well, maybe not quite   `evaporate', she corrected, but if she wasn't   there for the arrests she'd miss a major part   of the scoop. Besides, she wanted to ensure   that whatever ham-fisted street cops were there   understood that the exclusive was *hers*.

She began to stride off, but Charlie caught her   arm. "What are you doing?!" he demanded,   agitated. "If you go back there now, you'll   wind up in jail!"

Lois was about to enlighten him, but stopped   herself, deciding that it was none of his   business. "Look, buster, I don't know what   you're up to here or what kind of game you're   playing, but I'm out of here!" She pulled away   from him.

"I'm a reporter!" he almost shouted at her.   "I've been undercover, okay?"

"You're *what*?"

Lois halted, swung around and stared at him,   hands on her hips. That was her line!

"I said, I'm a report- "

"For what news organisation?" Lois demanded,   incandescent. "And who leaked this to you?"

"Leaked? Nobody leaked anything!" Charlie   retorted. "I think you're forgetting that I   saved your skin here, Larry or whatever your   name is! Now, if you don't mind, I have to go   and talk to the police."

He tried to march past her, but Lois shifted,   placing herself in his path. "Oh, no, you   don't! Not before you tell me who you're   working for!"

"To quote you... what's it to you?" he threw at   her.

Frustrated and angry, Lois almost yelled,   "Because I'm from the Daily Planet! And this is   *my* story!"

"You're kidding!" Charlie exclaimed.

********

He stared at her, crestfallen. This had been   his big break; he'd been sure of it. This story   would have got him a job at the Planet. And now   none of that was going to happen. The Planet   already had the story.

And, he realised suddenly as he stared at the   slender woman in front of him, still dressed as   a youth, he knew who she was.

Lois Lane.

Investigative reporter for the Daily Planet.   *Award-winning* investigative reporter. She'd   won three Kerth awards in as many years, he'd   discovered when he'd done his pre-interview   research on the Planet's current staff. He'd   heard of Lois Lane even before that, of course,   and had read some of her earlier work. She was   *good.* In preparation for his interview, he'd   read a number of her stories, including the   award-winning ones, and again been highly   impressed. And envious. He'd even added her   existence to his list of reasons for wanting to   work at the Planet; working with Lois Lane -   even if just in the same newsroom; even if he   never actually worked *with* her - would be a   privilege.

If Lois Lane was on this story, then he might   as well tear up his drafts and throw them in   the trash. He didn't have a hope.

But then a thought struck him. Her reaction to   his true identity had all been about concern   for her exclusive; she'd wanted to know who had   leaked the story to him, and she'd insisted   that it was *her* story.

"It's my story too," he pointed out firmly.

"Yeah? Well, who are you anyway?" she demanded   scathingly. "I certainly don't recognise you.   And who do you work for?"

"I'm freelance," he said, sliding over the   truth. "And this story's for... for whoever   will pay me most for it. LNN, maybe. Or the   Star," he invented, knowing that his only   chance here was for the famous Ms Lane to   continue to feel threatened by the loss of her   exclusive.

"Forget it, buster," she said bluntly, arms   akimbo and her tone hostile. "I've already got   it for the Planet. Everything. There won't be a   paper in Metropolis that'll touch it. Not when   the Planet had it first."

"Who says they'll have it first?" Clark   countered. "And anyway, it was me who called   the police. They'll talk to me, not you."

"So?" Lois shrugged, her expression indicating   complete unconcern. "Zymack in Larceny will   talk to me."

"You got names?" Clark asked, knowing that was   the big gap in his knowledge. He'd hoped to get   that last piece of information from the police.

"I've got everything I need," Lois Lane   informed him. "And now, if you don't mind, I've   got a story to file. Once I've talked to the   police, that is." She turned away again and   began to walk back towards the warehouse.

Clark followed, catching up with her. He wasn't   going to give up yet! No matter how domineering   or arrogant Ms Lane tried to be. This was *his*   story too, and he was determined to get some   benefit out of it.

In spite of Lois Lane's best efforts!

********

Three ordinary-looking saloon cars were parked   in front of the warehouse, Lois saw as she   approached. And inside there was chaos. Various   members of the gang, including two men she   hadn't so far seen, were in handcuffs and being   led, protesting, out onto the street by men   who, Lois thought, just looked like cops. One   of these days, she thought, the MPD would   finally learn how to disguise its undercover   officers so that they would actually blend in.

One of the cops turned to face her as she   approached, Charlie tagging along beside her.   "Either of you Kent?" he enquired.

"I am," Charlie announced. Lois gave him a   sharp look.

"Clark Kent," he said, gesturing at himself   with his thumb. "This is Lois Lane of the Daily   Planet," he added to the detective.

Clark Kent. As she'd suspected, she'd never   heard of him. And she was pretty sure that she   knew all the decent journalists in Metropolis -   not that there were all that many of those - as   well as all the mediocre ones too. Including   the freelances.

"I'm Fernandez," the cop introduced himself.   "Sergeant - Larceny."

Some reporter Kent was! Lois thought smugly. If   he really thought this was his scoop, what was   he doing even acknowledging her presence, let   alone introducing her? She certainly wouldn't   have done it. And since the cops knew who he   was, he'd had the advantage. He must have known   that. And he'd thrown it away.

Idiot!

He'd known who she was, interestingly. She   hadn't told him, so he had to have worked it   out for himself, despite her disguise. Not that   she should be surprised - after all, she was   the Planet's star reporter. Why wouldn't   another reporter figure it out? It stood to   reason: she'd told him she worked for the   Planet, so she could only be Lois Lane.

"You from the Planet too?" the cop asked Kent   as several MPD cruisers pulled up.

"I'm freelance," he said. "Ms Lane and I were   both working on this."

Again, he was ensuring that she got equal   access to information, Lois noted. Not that it   mattered; one phone call to Zymack in half an   hour or so and she'd have all she needed. But   Kent was making it even easier for her to cut   him out altogether. He'd never survive in   journalism, she thought cynically.

"Hey!" Vinnie yelled as he was being led out to   a police car. "You two are freakin'   *reporters*? You - !" His obscenity was cut off   by a uniformed officer, who shoved him hard   into the back seat of the car.

"Come into the back office," Fernandez said,   gesturing to Lois and Kent.

They followed him, Lois frantically trying to   think of a way to cut Kent out, but nothing   sprang to mind. After all, Fernandez knew that   it was Kent who'd called the cops anyway, and   she was only there because Kent had stupidly   included her.

"There's one thing I want to clear up first,"   Fernandez said, pausing in the doorway to the   back office. "You two have been undercover with   the gang?"

"That's right, we have," Kent confirmed, before   Lois could say anything.

"Now, this could be a problem. You helped to   steal cars? Your prints will be on some of   these vehicles?"

Lois stared at Fernandez, barely able to   believe what she was hearing. "What's that got   to do with anything? I was - *we* were doing   you guys a favour! If we hadn't got our fingers   dirty, these guys would still be ripping off   cars and selling them and you people wouldn't   have a clue who they were or how to catch them.   And you're complaining because we had to steal   a car or two to get the evidence?"

"It's still a criminal offence," Fernandez   pointed out calmly, clearly refusing to rise to   the bait of Lois's righteous indignation.   "Theft. Larceny. And probably another couple of   charges once the boys at the precinct get their   hands on the case and get it ready to pass up   to the DA's office."

"You mean you're going to *arrest* us?" Lois   snarled, ready to demand a phone so that she   could call Perry and get him to alert the   Planet's lawyer. At least she would be   protected. She noticed that Kent was staying   very silent during this conversation.

"You wouldn't have the arrests without us,"   Kent intervened to say - exactly the point   which Lois herself had made only a minute   earlier, she noted with impatience. "And we   only did what was necessary to sustain our   cover. I'll be very happy to give a full   statement and identify anyone you need me to.   Arresting us would be a waste of police time,   anyway - you know the Planet's lawyers will   have us out in no time."

<The *Planet's* lawyers?> Lois thought with a   cynical curl of her lip. He was making one heck   of an assumption there. Why on earth should the   Planet's lawyers lift a finger to help Kent?

"Hold on, hold on," Fernandez said. "I only   wanted to point out to you that you've been   treading a fine line between legitimate   investigation and getting yourselves arrested -   you especially, Ms Lane. I've heard of you. And   this time you crossed that line. You're right,   though. We wouldn't have these arrests if it   wasn't for you. So of course you're not under   arrest. But I can't guarantee that you won't be   if there's a next time. Just a friendly   warning. Okay?"

"Point taken," Kent said; Lois raised her   eyebrows at him. She would never have let   Fernandez get away with his `friendly warning'.   But it was probably better to say nothing, she   decided.

"Anyway, let's go inside so we can talk   properly," Fernandez added, indicating the back   office. "I do need statements from both of you,   and I've no doubt you want stuff from me. I   can't give you much, but we owe you something   for the tip-off. These guys had us stumped, and   the police chief was getting it in the neck   from the mayor."

Lois again tried to think of a way to dump   Kent, but nothing sprang immediately to mind.   It didn't matter, she told herself. He'd said -   twice - that he was freelance. That meant he   still had to sell his story. And since it would   be in the Planet as soon as she could get it   written - which now probably meant today's   afternoon edition - she couldn't envisage   anyone wanting to give him a penny for it.   Unless he went to LNN or a radio station, but   they'd want pictures or at least an audio   file...

...unless he was carrying a tape recorder?

Well, she could check that out. Once in the   back office, Lois said to Fernandez, "You don't   mind me taping this?"

He shrugged. "I'm not going to tell you   anything that's not on the record anyway."

She fumbled in the inside pocket of her jacket,   pretending not to be able to find her miniature   recorder. Then, glancing at Kent, she asked,   "You got a tape recorder?"

"Can't find yours?" He gave her what she could   only describe as a smirk. "I don't need one. I   can take almost verbatim notes." From his   pocket he produced a reporter's notebook and   pencil.

Excellent, Lois thought, and she quietly   depressed the `record' button on the machine   hidden inside her jacket.

********

Clark smothered an amused smile as his   sensitive ears picked up the tiny click. So Ms   Lane had been playing a little game, had she?   She'd intended to tape the interview all along,   but had been ensuring first that he didn't have   the means to do so himself. He was beginning to   see just how Lois Lane had earned her   reputation for getting some of the most   incredible scoops around. She clearly believed   that she could outsmart most people - and most   of the time, she'd be right.

Still, he wasn't worried. As he'd told her, he   really could take verbatim notes. Just as long   as he could keep his ultra-fast scribbling out   of sight of the other two, that was...

Fernandez was talking about his amazement at   seeing the range of luxury cars in the   warehouse. Clark allowed his attention to   drift, and he surreptitiously studied his   fellow reporter.

Larry Long was a woman. The amazing relief of   that discovery still hadn't gone away.

His inexplicable attraction to her now made   complete sense. He wasn't confused about his   sexuality at all. She was a woman. Lois Lane.

And, looking at her now, he was faintly   surprised that he hadn't made the discovery   before. Her lashes were too luxuriant for a   man's. And those eyes... Now that he knew, they   looked feminine and beautiful. And then there   were her lips - even surrounded by scruffy   facial hair, they looked eminently kissable.   And desirable.

He couldn't wait to see her dressed as herself.

And to find out whether she was as attractive   as he was already imagining her to be.

He wanted to get cleaned up himself, to get rid   of his disguise and let her see him just as he   really was. Would she - *might* she find him   attractive too? Was there any possibility...?

His attention refocused on Fernandez for a   moment, and he made a quick note of the man's   words. Nothing crucial just yet. He was well   aware that Lois thought he'd been foolish to   have included her in on this interview with the   detective - that in her eyes he'd made a   strategic error. He could easily have shut her   out; he'd had the advantage. And she'd have   missed an important element for her story.

He hadn't done that. And he still had hopes   that it could work to his advantage. If she   understood that he wasn't planning to shaft her   behind her back by cutting her out of important   information... Although, he thought with an   inward frown, Lois Lane didn't appear to be a   particularly trusting individual. She worked   alone, from what he could tell, and it was   clear that nothing was as important to her as   getting the story. And beating everyone else to   it.

Still, she hadn't beaten him yet. Even though,   as yet, he had nowhere to take his story, and   she seemed to have the paper of his choice all   sewn up.

At the same time, why should she trust him? He   *was* planning to deny her her exclusive,   wasn't he? If he didn't, then his chances of   getting any paper in Metropolis to employ him   were very much diminished. The Planet was out   of the question now, of course, but he needed   to get a job somewhere. So, once they left   here, he'd be making straight for the   Metropolis Star as quickly as he could get   there. Which, given his unusual abilities,   would be considerably faster than Ms Lane could   get to the Planet!

With any luck, the Star would be impressed with   what he had and would offer him a job on the   strength of it. And if their edition happened   to hit the streets just before the Planet's, so   much the better. He'd noticed over the past   couple of days that the Star's afternoon   edition tended to arrive at newsstands fifteen   or twenty minutes ahead of its competitor. If   the Star's editor knew that the Planet had this   story too, he'd no doubt ensure that his paper   was out even earlier today.

Lois did have another advantage over him, so   far as Clark could tell: she had the names of   the ringleaders and, if her comment hadn't been   a bluff, documentary proof of it. Not that   she'd be able to hang onto that without getting   into trouble with the police for withholding   evidence, but that wouldn't be too difficult: a   quick photocopy back at the Planet offices, and   she could hand the papers over to the police   with a sweet apology for her `forgetfulness'.   So he needed to make sure he got names before   Fernandez left, to even things up.

Fernandez was now getting down to serious   business, and Clark concentrated. It seemed   that a very brief search of the papers in the   office had revealed that the gang had contacts   in several Middle Eastern and African   countries, which was where the stolen cars were   shipped and sold to order. "We'll be contacting   the police in Uganda and the Emirates and the   other places - it looks like we have names for   most of their contacts. This is a huge   international racket you've broken open here,   Kent. The MPD is going to be very grateful."

"Hey!" Lois interrupted, sounding very   indignant. "This wasn't all Kent's doing! I was   working on the case too. He only beat me to the   phone-call! "

Fernandez blinked, then smiled slightly. "Well,   I'm sure we're grateful to you too, Ms Lane.   But you were working together, weren't you?"

Clark waited for Lois to deny it vociferously.   But, to his surprise, she shrugged. "Well, yes.   But I got the hard evidence while he played   decoy."

He wondered what she was up to, until it   occurred to him. If she'd denied working with   him, Fernandez might have felt obliged to give   *him* any further information exclusively,   since he was the one who'd tipped off the   police. This way, she stayed within the loop.

She didn't miss a trick.

And they both got the story.

********

Now, all she had to do was spike Kent's guns in   some way, ditch him, and then get back to the   Planet, Lois thought as they emerged from the   warehouse half an hour later. The police cars   had mostly left; now the area was surrounded by   workmen and car transporters, clearly starting   the task of getting the stolen vehicles to a   police compound. Photographers and forensic   experts were also still hard at work.

Kent... now there was a problem.

And yet, in another way, there wasn't. Lois   finally allowed herself to admit to the feeling   of relief which had been present ever since   he'd identified himself as a reporter. He   wasn't a criminal. He wasn't a thief. He wasn't   going to jail.

And so there was no reason at all why she   shouldn't be attracted to him. Why she   shouldn't want to explore these strange,   powerful feelings she'd been having about him   right from the moment she'd met him. Why she   shouldn't find out where it might lead; if   there was a chance that he might feel the same   way about her.

No reason at all.

But of course there was a reason, she reminded   herself sharply. He was a rival. Another   reporter. Someone who wanted to take *her*   exclusive and sell it to another paper.

The fact that he had gorgeous brown eyes and a   smile that made her want to melt had no bearing   at all on the matter.

It meant *nothing*. Clark Kent was history.

And anyway, she reminded herself with a   grimace, he'd thought that she was a man,   hadn't he? And he'd let her go pretty darned   quick once he discovered otherwise! Almost as   if he'd had an electric shock... And that   definitely told her how he felt about his   discovery that she was female, didn't it?

Not that it mattered, she told herself firmly.   The only thing that mattered - the only thing   that ever mattered - was the story.

But ditching him could be a problem, she mused.   After all, he had as much of a scoop as she   did. Okay, he didn't have the papers which   she'd so carefully secreted away, but they did   both have a statement from the investigating   officer which gave them both all the details   they needed - including where the stolen cars   were destined for, and Damien Ridgeway's name   and those of his contacts, even if they'd had   to promise to hold back those names for the   time being, until they'd been arrested by the   police in their own countries. Kent could be a   big problem if she didn't find a way of   preventing him selling his story to someone   else.

Unless... he didn't sell it to someone else.

A smile curved around Lois's face as an idea   occurred to her. And, given Kent's obvious   naivety, it might just work...

Moving so that she was walking closer to Kent,   she turned to him, deliberately giving him a   friendly look.

"So... Clark, is it?"

She saw one of his eyebrows shoot up. "Yeah,   Clark Kent... Lois." She got a brief flash of a   heart-stopping smile, which almost made her   falter in her plan.

Almost.

"We need to talk," she told him, deliberately   making herself sound reasonable. "Look, there's   an all-night coffee bar just around the corner.   How about we go there? I'm always less growly   after a decent injection of caffeine anyway."

"Okay. I'd like that." He sounded surprised.   "Uh... and, Lois?"

"Yeah?"

"I... just wanted to tell you how relieved I   was to find out that you weren't part of the   gang after all." Lois glanced at him, taken   aback by his comment, and was surprised to note   that he was blushing faintly. "I mean, I...   uh... well, I couldn't help liking you, and I   hated the thought of you going to jail..."

"So you tried to persuade me to mend my ways,   and you stopped me walking into the trap," Lois   finished quietly, now feeling just a little bit   guilty at her plan. After all, Charlie - Kent -   had tried to help the misguided kid he'd   believed Larry Long to be. He'd stuck his neck   out and saved Larry from arrest.

Stupid of him, her inner voice observed   sardonically. After all, if Larry Long had been   what he pretended, the kid would have been in   and out of detention centres since before his   teens. A few kind words from some do-gooding   liberal wouldn't have made any difference. Kent   was naive to believe anything else.

"It was probably a kinda stupid thing to do,"   Kent answered, unconsciously echoing her   thoughts. "I just... well, it doesn't matter.   Anyway, I'm glad you're who you turned out to   be."

<And I'm glad you're...> No! Lois squelched the   thought before she could complete it. Kent was   a rival - a rival she could do without. As   Charlie King, he was safe to admire from a   distance. As Clark Kent, he was trouble with a   capital T. And she needed to neutralise him -   the sooner the better.

Inside the coffee-bar, they took a booth and   ordered coffee - hot and strong, Lois insisted   to the balding, overweight guy who came to take   their order. And chocolate and cinnamon   doughnuts, but only if they were fresh. Nothing   with fake cream, she insisted, ignoring the   sour look she got from the waiter. She was the   customer, after all, and if he wanted her   business - and his tip - his job was to make   sure that she got what she wanted.

When their drinks arrived, Kent took a sip of   his, then faced Lois with a questioning look.   "So, what did you want to talk about?"

She shrugged. "Well, it seems to me that we've   got a problem. And I'm hoping that we can find   a way to resolve it amicably."

"We do?"

Was he a complete idiot? Lois wondered. Or was   he being deliberately disingenuous? She decided   to play along, and retained her air of calm   friendliness.

"See, we've both got the same story, and if you   take it somewhere else, then the Daily Planet   doesn't have the exclusive we were hoping for.   So, Clark, tell me - where were you hoping to   sell this? Where do you usually sell your work?   Because I thought I knew most of the freelances   in Metropolis, but I've never come across a   Clark Kent before now."

He grimaced. "You won't have." Sighing, he   added, "You see, I've just arrived in   Metropolis. I've worked freelance in several   different countries, but not in the US, though   I did work for a local newspaper in Kansas for   a while. I came here hoping to get a job on a   paper. Uh... actually, I was hoping to work at   the Daily Planet," he finished, sounding   disheartened.

He was? Oh, that made it even easier, Lois   thought exultantly. It'd be like taking candy   from a baby...

And he really was naive, too. A more seasoned   reporter would never reveal just how vulnerable   he was. He'd set himself up to be cut out of   this story. Really, she almost owed it to him   to do it; it was a lesson he clearly needed to   learn if he was ever going to learn how to   survive in the cutthroat world of journalism.

"Well, maybe I can help there," she said   brightly, giving him a brilliant smile. "See,   the only way I get my exclusive is if we share   it. That means we *both* take our stories to   Perry. That's Perry White, by the way. Editor-  in-chief of the Planet."

Kent nodded, and she could see him trying to   swallow a lump in his throat. "Yeah, I... uh, I   know who Perry White is. You mean it? You'd   persuade him to buy my story?"

"It's the only way out of this situation,   Clark. Isn't it?" she pointed out. "And this   way you get a byline in the Planet - and if   Perry likes your work, maybe you even get a job   out of it too. How does that sound?"

********

Part 04

How did it sound? It sounded... too good to be   true.

On the other hand, it made some kind of sense.   Lois Lane, he could well imagine, would hate   the thought of being denied an exclusive. And   he could mess things up for her pretty badly if   he tried. He could take his story to the   Metropolis Star and they'd no doubt be glad to   spike the Planet's guns. Even better, he could   take it to a TV or radio news station, which   would have it on the airwaves in time for the   morning news bulletins. There was no way that   the Planet would be able to publish it before   their afternoon edition.

So this was the only way that she could salvage   her exclusive. That did make sense.

And this way there was still a chance that he   might get hired by the Planet after all.

That was true... but there was also the chance   that the editor might just buy his story, thank   him nicely and then show him the door. He'd be   left with no job, and no trump card in terms of   getting a job. Wouldn't he be better to go   ahead with Plan B and take his story to the   Star?

But that was a risky strategy too. What if the   Star wasn't interested? What if somehow the   Planet managed to get their story, or spoilers   for their story, out first? The Star wouldn't   want to touch him then. What if Lois Lane found   some other way to stick a spoke in his wheel if   he declined her offer?

No; this way he at least had Lois on his side.   It was in her interests, after all, to keep him   on side, and so probably the best way to   protect himself was to go along with her. After   all, this would still give Perry White a chance   to see what he could do, and he had the promise   of an interview with the Planet's editor   anyway. Mr White might even be impressed that   Clark, instead of taking the story elsewhere   once he knew that a Planet reporter was already   on the case, had agreed to take it to the Daily   Planet.

But still he hesitated. Something about the way   Lois had behaved towards him ever since he'd   told her who he was warned him that this wasn't   a woman who would do him any favours if she   could at all avoid it. She seemed the ruthless   type; of that he was very sure. And anyway, she   was unlikely to have won the numerous awards to   her name without treading on a few toes along   the way. Not when she'd won so many, and at so   young an age.

Was it likely that someone like Lois Lane would   make him an offer like this and really mean it?

Sure, he'd already acknowledged that it would   save her exclusive. The last thing she wanted   was for him to take the story elsewhere. But   she probably had other ways of achieving that,   too. Was this a trap?

He studied her carefully, putting his senses on   full alert. Her pulse rate seemed a little   higher than normal; there was certainly some   anxiety there. But did that mean she was lying?   Or just that she was worried that he might   reject her offer and take the story somewhere   else after all?

She was looking directly at him, her gaze not   wavering from his face. Could she lie and still   look her target in the eye? Not many people,   unless they were especially devious, could   deceive and still *look* honest and open.

He still wasn't entirely sure that he could   trust her... but he'd give her the benefit of   the doubt. His gut instinct was telling him   that there was a pretty good chance that she   was on the level. Why shouldn't he believe her?

Smiling warmly at Lois across the table, Clark   extended his hand. "I think you've got a deal."

She accepted his hand, giving him a firm clasp   in return. Her hand felt small and delicate in   his large one. And Clark felt a sensation   almost akin to an electric shock as he touched   her.

Maybe he really was going to find everything   he'd ever dreamed of in Metropolis, he thought   dazedly, looking back at Lois with what he was   sure was a silly smile on his face. He already   felt halfway in love with her, and he hadn't   even seen her as she really was! But he would   soon, that was clear. And he couldn't wait!

"We'd best get going," she said abruptly,   breaking the spell for Clark as she withdrew   her hand. "We should be able to get a cab to   the Planet from somewhere around here."

"I'd really like to go back to my room first,"   Clark said ruefully, dragging the back of his   hand over his bearded chin. "In fact, I need to   - my work's all over there. What I'd written   before tonight, that is. How about I meet you   at the Planet in half an hour or so?"

She gave him an incredulous look. "Are you   kidding? Do you honestly think I'd let you out   of my sight?"

"Huh?" He stared at her, frowning.

"You have my exclusive," she pointed out; Clark   refrained from reminding her that it was also   *his* exclusive. "If you think I'm letting you   go *anywhere* on your own, you've got another   think coming! And if you've any sense, you   wouldn't let me get away from you either," she   added, giving him what almost seemed like a   scornful look.

Puzzled, Clark looked away; her friendliness of   only a couple of minutes ago seemed to have   vanished. Now he was confused. Lois seemed to   have qualities in common with a chameleon.   She'd undergone several changes of personality   since he'd uncovered her disguise. Which was   the real Lois Lane? And could he trust her?

She got to her feet, throwing a five-dollar   bill onto the table. "Clark, you need to get   some street-smarts if you're going to survive   in Metropolis very long. It's a shark-pond out   here. Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't - but Kansas," he said, getting up as   well and following her to the exit.

"Figures," she commented. "First lesson: trust   nobody. Then you won't be disappointed."   Outside on the street, she put her fingers in   her mouth and whistled piercingly; Clark   winced. But a taxicab appeared almost out of   nowhere and screeched to a halt beside them.

"Right. We'll go to your place first," she   announced, getting in.

"Okay," he agreed a little weakly. She was   nothing short of a tornado! Even with all his   abilities, he was finding it difficult to keep   up with her. Getting into the cab, he sank   somewhat gratefully into the back seat.

"Earth to Kent!" He blinked and looked at her   enquiringly. She was giving him a frustrated   stare. "Where to?"

"Oh! Sorry. The Apollo Hotel," he told the   cabbie. Lois's grimace didn't surprise him; it   was a dive, and he knew it. But it was all that   he could afford, until he got a job and a   paycheque. Which, it seemed, could be pretty   soon.

*********

Lois hated having to wait for anyone, so   cooling her heels in this grimy cesspit of a   hotel was not her cup of tea. But, she reminded   herself, it was worth it to get her exclusive.   Kent was getting changed, he'd explained. Well,   he did need to; his clothes were pretty   appalling. Though hers weren't much better...   Much as she hated the idea of letting a   stranger into her apartment, they were probably   going to have to go by her place next.

She was leaning against the counter in what   passed for a kitchen in the strange   apartment/hotel room Clark was renting, casting   her gaze around the room. She'd already sneaked   a peek inside his fridge and cupboards -   stuffed to the gills with junk food, she'd   noticed in amazement - and speculated on the   state of his bedroom. Charlie King - or Clark   Kent, as she had to learn to call him - didn't   exactly appear to her to be the neatest of men.

But he was still pretty darned good-looking...

<Shut up!> Lois commanded her inner voice.   Kent's attractiveness had nothing to do with   it. He was a rival - a hick reporter, of   course, but a rival no doubt at the moment -   from whom she had to protect her story. And   that was exactly what she intended to do.

It was easy to tell that he wasn't used to the   big city, or even the competitive world of   working for one of the country's top   newspapers. She didn't know what his previous   experience was, although he'd given her some   spiel about freelancing internationally, but   she wouldn't be surprised if he'd just worked   for some small-town paper somewhere. The   Hicksville Herald, she thought sardonically; no   doubt just a weekly paper. And where the   biggest story he'd handled would've been when   one farmer's cows invaded someone else's field.

Yeah, he was no competition. Clark Kent would   never know what had hit him. And he'd be on the   train back to Ohio - or was it Kansas? - before   the day was out.

She smiled in satisfaction, already visualising   her front-page story and the 42-point headline   it would get, above the fold. Yep, this was   definitely a potential award-winner...

The door opened suddenly, and she turned to   urge Kent to hurry up. But the words froze on   her tongue as she looked at him and...

...just...

...stared...

Her jaw was gaping open; Lois realised what a   sight she must look and turned away, closing   her mouth. He cleaned up pretty well.   Actually... that was an understatement. He was   even more attractive than she'd imagined when   she'd seen him as gang-member and thief Charlie   King.

His hair was clean and carefully styled, albeit   over-long. He wore a not-very-fashionable suit,   clearly his best but nothing which would show   to advantage in Metropolis. And his glasses -   the same as he'd worn for the past three   nights, so clearly his only pair - were old-  fashioned and unflattering. But his face was   clean-shaven and he was...

He was *gorgeous*. Clark Kent could have been a   male model, Lois thought dazedly as she turned   back and looked at him. She'd known that he was   tall, but she hadn't taken in the full impact   of those broad shoulders, that firm jaw and...   oh, and that dizzying smile.

Because he was smiling at her. Openly and   without a trace of guile. Trustingly.

And she was going to stab him in the back.

Lois turned away, trying to ignore the guilt   spearing through her.

"Come on," she said abruptly, reaching for the   doorhandle. "We need to get going."

********

Clark followed Lois down the stairs and out of   the Apollo Hotel, glad to be outside again.   He'd felt very uncomfortable about bringing her   up to his room - not so much that she was a   stranger, but because it was a horrible place.   He'd felt ashamed that she'd seen where he was   staying.

He knew that Lois Lane had worked for the   Planet for about four years, and she'd already   won three Kerth awards. She was probably on a   pretty decent salary, and he could imagine that   her apartment - or house, even? - was a far cry   from the Apollo Hotel. So much for imagining   that he could impress her in any way.

He was just a penniless reporter from   Smallville. Why should a successful woman like   Lois Lane even give him a second glance?

He winced again as she gave another piercing   whistle. If he was going to be spending any   significant amount of time with this woman, he   was going to have to watch his eardrums, Clark   thought. At the very least, he'd have to shut   down his super-sensitive hearing. That was   twice now that she'd almost blasted him out of   it.

A taxi pulled up within seconds - no cabbie   would dare keep the tornado that was Lois Lane   waiting any longer than that, Clark thought in   amused admiration. Even dressed as a scruffy   kid, she seemed to command attention.

"Carter Avenue," Lois said snappily, getting in   and gesturing impatiently for him to follow   her.

"What's on Carter Avenue?" he asked, puzzled.

"My place. I need to get changed as well," she   said briefly, in a tone which didn't really   encourage further conversation.

Clark slid into the back seat beside her,   taking advantage of the silence to glance down   at his draft of the car-ring story and the rest   of his portfolio. He was about to meet the   editor of the Daily Planet, and somewhat sooner   than he'd anticipated. He just hoped that he   had enough to impress Mr White.

He thought his work was good. His old   journalism professor was impressed enough by it   to have written to Perry White with the   personal recommendation which had secured him   the interview he'd been due to have in a couple   of days' time. Professor Carlton's letter, a   copy of which he'd sent to Clark, had left him   blushing. But was his work good enough to   impress Perry White? Especially as he was   coming in with Lois Lane, the winner of three   Kerth awards.

Lois Lane...

Clark sneaked a quick peek at her. She was   staring straight ahead, apparently ignoring   him. It seemed that once he'd agreed to her   plan, he'd become almost irrelevant... which   made him just a little suspicious of her   motives. He'd have to watch her very carefully,   he thought. She struck him as the ruthless   type...

He couldn't wait to see what she looked like   without the disguise, all the same. Her present   appearance didn't give a lot away; medium   height for a woman, and probably of slender   build. Her hair was clearly dark, although most   of it was hidden under that awful woollen hat   she was wearing. Most of her face was hidden,   either by the hat or the wispy beard.

Her voice had changed almost as soon as he'd   figured it out; the gruffness was gone, and in   its place was a more feminine tone. She had a   tendency to speak quickly, impatiently, as if   she hated being kept waiting and suffered fools   badly. All the same... he liked her voice. It   sounded attractive.

*She* sounded attractive.

And he was going to get to work with her!

*******

She locked him in her living-room. Triple-  locked her front door and removed the key from   the chain.

She didn't want Clark Kent in her apartment,   but it would be a cold day in hell before she'd   allow another ambitious man to steal her story.   Making him wait outside was simply not an   option. So she locked him in.

And then, because she didn't trust him that way   either, she locked the door leading to her   bedroom.

Just because Clark Kent was about the most   attractive man she'd met in months - no,   *years* - meant absolutely nothing. Men were   all the same; they'd smile sweetly while   stabbing you in the back. And the good-looking   ones were the worst, she reminded herself. No   matter how naive this one seemed, he was just   like all the others: he couldn't be trusted. It   would be foolish to allow herself to feel   guilty.

Pushing Clark Kent from her mind, Lois began to   undress.

It was sheer bliss to unwind the binding from   her breasts. Lois felt her entire body relax   and her muscles unstiffen as the constricting   fabric was removed. And she wouldn't have to   put it on again - she'd got the story.

Well, as long as Clark Kent continued to   believe her and Perry took her advice. But that   should be a piece of cake. After all, Kent was   new in the big city. He was pretty gullible,   she was sure about that - though not sure   enough that she was willing to trust him not to   abscond with her story. And Perry understood   the value of an exclusive well enough to be   sensible about it. In a couple of hours, Kent   would be heading back to the cornfields of   Kansas or Ohio or wherever it was he came from,   his tail between his legs. And she would have   another award-winner on her hands.

She smiled in anticipation as she padded into   the shower.

********

Clark paced the length of Lois's living-room   once more, now beginning to have even more   serious doubts about his new acquaintance's   motives. She obviously didn't trust him - well,   she'd made that clear immediately after she'd   suggested that they join forces. She'd also, of   course, warned him that he shouldn't trust her   either... and he hadn't heeded that warning.

Maybe he should have. Maybe he shouldn't have   agreed to her proposal.

After all, she'd *locked him in*! Confined him   to the living-room of her apartment like some   sort of prisoner. Clearly, she didn't trust him   not to go back on their agreement. He grimaced   as he remembered his own entirely trusting   behaviour at the Apollo Hotel. She couldn't   even show him the same courtesy. What kind of   woman was Lois Lane, reporter?

He heard a click, and in the next moment the   bedroom door opened. Lois emerged, and Clark   could almost feel his jaw hit the floor.

Lois Lane was beautiful. He'd been right about   her slender figure, but he hadn't realised just   how... *shapely* she was. In the flattering   dark suit she was wearing, its severity   lightened by the dark flower-print blouse, she   looked the consummate professional, and at the   same time incredibly attractive. Her hair,   freed from the dirty woollen hat, swung free to   her shoulders in a soft bob, swinging gently   from side to side as she moved. She wore make-  up too, enhancing her femininity even more.

How had this woman managed to persuade anyone   that she was a man?

He forgot all his caution about trusting her,   and smiled in her direction. "Wow. I can't   believe you're the same person as Larry Long!"

She shrugged. "All part of the job. The whole   point of a disguise is to be convincing, isn't   it?"

"Sure, but disguising yourself as a guy...?"   Clark shook his head. At Lois's frown, he added   quickly, "All I meant was... well, you sure   don't look anything like a guy now."

The sharp tilt of one eyebrow was the only   response Clark got to his complimentary   observation. Lois walked past him towards the   door. "Come on. There's a cab waiting   downstairs."

Hurriedly, he followed her.

********

Arriving at the Planet, Lois escorted Kent   upstairs as quickly as she could; she wanted   him dealt with and gone as soon as possible.   She took him to her desk, inviting him to have   a seat. The newsroom was almost empty, as she'd   have expected for that time in the morning; it   was a little after six. But Perry was in his   office, as usual.

"I need to talk to Perry," she explained. "I'll   explain the situation, and then he'll talk to   you. Okay?" she added, trying to make her tone   sound less brusque. She didn't want him to   guess what she was up to!

Kent nodded. "You'll need my portfolio, I   guess?"

Oh, he really was wet behind the ears! Lois   could barely believe that Kent was willing to   trust a complete stranger with his material.   Guilt at taking advantage of him again began to   hit her, but she forcibly ignored it. If he   really was that innocent, he was about to learn   a much-needed lesson. In fact, she really was   doing him a favour here. Tough love, it was   called; wasn't it?

"Just your notes for the car-theft story," she   said, almost holding her breath in hope that he   would agree.

"Sure!" he said, handing them over with a big   smile.

What an innocent! It really was like taking   candy from a baby, Lois thought with a cynical   curl of her lip as she spun on her heel and   headed for Perry's office. It was almost too   easy. Within twenty minutes, Kent would be on   his way back to the boondocks - and she would   have her exclusive.

********

Left sitting alone at Lois's desk, Clark   allowed himself at last to soak in the newsroom   atmosphere. He'd been too anxious not to show   himself up as an overawed newbie when Lois had   escorted him in; now that her critical gaze was   no longer on him, he could look his fill.

This was the *Daily Planet*, he told himself   incredulously. The best newspaper in the world,   Professor Carlton had always said. Even, in   Carlton's view, better than the Washington Post   - and he would know. And edited by Perry White,   one of the very best editors around. And, sure,   he had an interview with Mr White lined up for   the very next day, but this - coming in with an   exclusive and with an introduction from none   other than Lois Lane - surely had to be a far   better way of persuading the editor that he was   worth a chance.

As long as he could trust Lois Lane to present   his case fairly...

And there was the one fly in the ointment,   Clark mused thoughtfully. Ms Lane herself.   Leaving aside any consideration of how   attractive she was - and he still hadn't got   over seeing her for the first time dressed as   herself - he wasn't sure he could trust her.   She was clearly a very clever woman, and he   hadn't been able to get rid of the nagging   suspicion that she was playing him like a   violin.

She'd been extremely hostile when she'd   realised that he was a reporter too, and after   the same story as she was. She'd asserted her   right to *her* exclusive, and when he hadn't   backed down she'd made certain that she got   access to every scrap of information that he   did. Her manner had been brusque - when she'd   deigned to notice him at all.

And then suddenly she'd changed, smiling at   him, calling him `Clark' instead of `Kent' or   nothing at all, and she'd invited him for   coffee and actually offered him the chance of   getting his story in the Daily Planet.

Why hadn't that volte-face made him suspicious?

Because he'd been over-awed by her, he accepted   wryly. And attracted to her. And probably hero-  worshipping her too. He'd swallowed her   promises like a complete innocent.     He was an idiot, he told himself swiftly. After   all, once he'd agreed to her plan she'd turned   abrupt again. At her apartment, she'd actually   locked him in! He still couldn't believe she'd   done that. And she'd barely spoken to him once   they'd got in the cab to go to the newsroom. Of   *course* she was planning to double-cross him!

The only question was... how?

His lips thinning into a fine line, Clark   engaged his acute hearing.

"...it's simple, Perry. You just tell the   greenhorn we'll buy his story, write him a   cheque for a couple of hundred bucks, and then   trash it once he's out of here. That way we   have a guaranteed exclusive!"

"Now, Lois, you know I don't like that sort of   unethical behaviour..."

"Yeah, but do you like losing an exclusive any   better?"

He'd heard enough. Furious, Clark got to his   feet and walked straight to the editor's   office, walking in without knocking.

"I've changed my mind," he said coolly. "I'd   like my story back, please."

********

Part 05

As the door crashed open and Kent made his   demand, Lois groaned inwardly. She'd been so   close! Perry had been just about to agree to   her suggestion, she knew it. And now the   greenhorn had changed his mind! Why, she had no   idea. She'd thought she had him convinced,   eating out of her hand like the naive country   boy that he was.

Perry would be furious at his barging in like   that, though. That would work in her favour.   And there was no way, anyway, that the Chief   would casually allow a Planet exclusive to go   somewhere else. He'd talk Kent around.

She smiled tautly and turned to the editor. He   was looking at Kent, as she would have   expected.

"Kent, I presume?" he enquired, his tone   unreadable.

"Yes; Clark Kent." The greenhorn held out his   hand.

Perry accepted it, much to Lois's surprise.   "Now, where have I heard that name before?" the   editor wondered aloud.

Lois blinked. He'd actually *heard* of Kent?   Had the man actually had anything *decent*   printed? But that couldn't be - he wouldn't be   unemployed and desperate to get a job if that   were the case.

"Professor Carlton wrote to you about me," Kent   was explaining. "I have an interview scheduled   with you for tomorrow."

"So you do," Perry said thoughtfully. "Now, why   in tarnation didn't you mention this to me,   Lois?"

<Because I didn't know anything about it!> Lois   muttered silently, fuming.

Perry ignored her, however, and turned back to   Kent. "So you're Carlton's protege, huh?"

"Who's Carlton?" Lois demanded, interrupting   before Kent could answer. Things were moving   swiftly out of her control, and she hated not   being in control of things. She hated not being   in the know, too.

"We were at journalism school together," Perry   explained. "And `bout eight years ago he   retired early and went to teach journalism at   Midwest State U, after ten years editing the   Washington Post."

Lois could feel her jaw dropping. "*That*   Carlton? Charles Carlton?"

"Chuck Carlton, yeah." Perry gave her a knowing   look; oh, he knew just how chagrined she was   feeling, she could tell! Kent was the protege   of the former editor of the *Washington Post*?!

Why hadn't she known that? Why hadn't he told   her? He'd made a fool of her! He'd let her come   all the way here, let her make her pitch to   Perry, and all along he'd known that once Perry   realised who he was, it'd...

It'd what?

She was being stupid - rushing to conclusions   without analysing the facts. The fact of Kent's   mentor meant nothing, of course it didn't!   Perry would still want to protect the Planet's   exclusive. Which probably meant that he'd give   Kent an interview, for form's sake and because   he'd already promised the greenhorn one. And   then he'd shake the guy's hand and tell him   that there simply wasn't a position available.   Of course he would! After all, he'd only just   turned down her request for a raise because,   he'd said, there was no money available. So   there was no way that Kent would be getting   anything but an escort to the door.

"So this is your story?" Perry was asking,   gesturing to the sheaf of papers Lois was still   holding.

"Yes," Kent said, his voice displaying a note   of pride that she hadn't heard from him before.

Perry held out his hand towards Lois. She   frowned, realising that he actually wanted to   look at the country boy's notes. What was he   thinking? Reluctantly, she handed it over.

The editor scanned the papers in silence for a   few moments, his face expressionless. Then he   paused, glancing from the sheets in his hand to   Kent, then to Lois and then back again. Then,   to her amazement, he began to read aloud.

"It's not difficult to see why these people   live a life of crime. Qualms of conscience   aside, it does have distinct advantages. These   guys are, for the most part, poorly educated   and without good connections. The best they   could hope for is some sort of unskilled or   semi-skilled employment at low rates of pay.   Compare a week's take-home pay from waiting   tables, maybe $120 a week, or from working on a   construction site or even driving a cab, where   you might bring home around $200 a week, with   earnings of around $500 a week stealing cars.   And there's no taxes to pay on that, either.   The economic motivation for turning their back   on legitimate employment is clear.

"And when even the most sophisticated car   alarms and immobilisers can't keep out   determined, professional thieves like these,   it's not difficult work. Careful planning means   that the chances of getting caught seem to be   minimal. So where's the deterrent?"

Perry raised his head and looked enquiringly at   Lois. He liked it, she could tell. She gave him   a sour look. "If you printed that, our readers   - and the shareholders! - would say that we're   encouraging crime," she observed scathingly.

"Hardly, since the thieves got caught," Perry   pointed out dryly; Lois shot him a fierce look.   What the heck did he think he was doing?!    "My point exactly, Mr White," Kent interrupted.   "That's exactly how I was planning on finishing   the article - pointing out that, in the end,   crime doesn't pay. Criminals do get caught.   Those guys are all going to jail - there's the   deterrent."

Perry nodded as Lois watched incredulously.   Okay, Kent's writing was halfway decent, she   acknowledged grudgingly. If you liked that kind   of thing - touchy-feely human interaction   stuff, finding explanations for things, as   opposed to hard news and analysis. A lot better   than she'd expected - but then, he was   *Carlton's* protege and that had to say   something about his ability. She should have   expected that, once she'd realised who had   recommended him. But Perry wasn't seriously   thinking of buying the story, was he?

"You wanted to work for the Daily Planet,   Kent?" Perry asked.

"It's been my ambition ever since I was at   college," Kent replied, and Lois gritted her   teeth. Didn't Perry realise he was being   toadied to?

"Well, you've got yourself a job," the editor   drawled, extending his hand. "Welcome to the   Daily Planet, Clark Kent."

As Kent shook Perry's hand, clearly delighted,   Lois stared at the two of them, in shock. Perry   had actually *hired* him? When he'd told her,   only the previous day, that he couldn't afford   to give her a raise? It was a disgrace! No, it   was worse than that, she realised with a   dawning sense of outrage. It was an insult!   *She* had been working on the car theft story   for the Planet - and now Perry had hired this   wet-behind-the-ears, fresh up from the country   newbie on the back of his work on *her*   exclusive?

"We'll print this piece as part of the series,"   Perry was adding, and Lois realised that things   were getting worse still. The editor was   actually planning to *print* Kent's story!   "It'll be a great complement to Lois's more   factual account of working inside the gang - I   like what you've been sending me, Lois," he   added, and she felt that his compliment was an   afterthought.

"Now, you've both got some work to do on your   pieces," Perry added briskly. "Kent, I take it   that one of your pseudonymous characters is   Lois? You'll have to remove any references to   her. And Lois, you need to do likewise in   respect of Kent here. I want those pieces   finished by the deadline for the morning issue.   But first, I need the big news story - the   arrests. And I want that for the afternoon   edition, so you need to get working!"

"I'm on it!" Lois declared, heading for the   door. She'd get her front-page story at least,   even if she did have to put up with the   humiliation of Perry hiring the Kansas hick   against her recommendation.

"I meant *both* of you." Perry's dry remark   made Lois stop in her tracks. "This story   belongs to both of you - and I like Clark's   style, Lois. I think together you could be a   great writing team, and I want you to try it."

As Lois stared at him in sheer disbelief, Perry   waved his hand impatiently at her. "So what are   you waiting for? Git! And get me a story by   deadline!"

*********

Clark could barely believe it. He was in! He   had a job at the Daily Planet!

And, even better, Perry White himself had   actually said that he liked his work!

And he was being partnered with Lois Lane,   whose work he genuinely admired and had for   some time, even if the reality of Lois herself   had turned out to be something of a   disappointment. He hadn't expected her to be as   rude or unfriendly as this - which was even   more disappointing given that he found her so   attractive. Well, anything of that nature was   clearly out of the question. Even if she could   ever get over her obvious dislike and   resentment of him, he wasn't sure that he'd   want to date a woman who was so unpleasant.

A woman who had actually tried to cut him out   of a story in about the most despicable way   he'd ever seen. And who had made clear her   contempt for him, even after it was clear that   her editor didn't agree with her.

No; he couldn't possibly be interested in a   woman like that.

Even if she was the most beautiful woman he'd   ever met in his life... even if he'd never   before felt this kind of reaction to *anyone*.

Lois Lane and Clark Kent would be writing the   big story on the capture of the gang of car   thieves - a story which would no doubt be on   the front page of the paper. He could see the   byline now. Clark Kent and Lois Lane, in   alphabetical order. Although, given that Lois   had been at the Planet a lot longer, she'd   probably want her name first. In fact, given   her reaction to his appointment at the Planet,   he could consider it a certainty that she'd   want her name first. But he could go along with   that. Simply getting his name on a byline in   this paper was a dream come true.

And that, of course, was the one fly in the   ointment about his new job. Lois Lane herself   was not at all pleased at his new status. Even   if he hadn't overheard what she'd been saying   to Perry White, it would've been obvious from   the sour looks and furious grimaces on her face   while they'd been in the editor's office. If   looks could kill, he'd be an obelisk by now.

Her irate words, muttered under her breath but   clearly audible to Clark, made him wince   further. "What is Perry *thinking* of?! Hiring   a rookie! And making *me* work with him on *my*   story? I should just refuse to do it - I should   quit... see if Perry likes *that*! See if he   prefers Kent to a three-times Kerth winner!"

This was going to be an interesting working   relationship, he could tell.

Oh, boy.

********

Right; she'd start as she meant to go on. Show   Kent who was boss. This was *her* story, and   he'd just been lucky enough to stumble onto it,   after all - and to talk his way into a job at   the Planet. He'd got a job, on a reporter's   salary even if it was probably going to be on   the probationer's scale, right when Perry had   turned *her* down for a raise. She wasn't   finished with Perry about that either.

Well, no country hick straight out of the Mid-  West was going to be a match for Lois Lane.

"Okay, Kent, why don't you find yourself a desk   and finish up your story?" she said coolly.   "I'll get to work on the arrests."

"Didn't Mr White want us to work on that   together?" Kent objected, not moving from his   position beside her desk.

So he wasn't going to be as easy as she'd   hoped. Gritting her teeth, Lois replied, "It'll   be quicker if I do it on my own. This is the   kind of thing I've won awards for, as people   around here know. And I do have a tape-  recording of the interview with Fernandez,   remember."

In other words, she said silently, butt out and   let her get on with *her* job.

"Ms Lane," Kent said, in an irritatingly calm   voice. "I think you might find that I'll be   more help than you seem to imagine. Now, how   about we get the facts sorted out first, and   then decide how to present the story?"

In other words, Lois understood, Kent didn't   intend to be pushed around. She sighed in   frustration. It looked as if she was stuck with   the guy... for now, anyway.

And his proposal was exactly how Lois would   have approached the story. So,  just to be   perverse and to show him who was in charge, she   waved a careless hand in his direction. "The   facts are obvious. We'll start by working out   the structure."

Kent shrugged, pulling a chair up to sit beside   her - too close for Lois's comfort. The man was   just too darned good-looking for her peace of   mind. "Whatever you prefer. You are the award-  winning reporter in this partnership, after   all. I'm looking forward to learning from the   expert."

Did she detect a note of humouring her, or even   of patronage, in his tone? Lois gave him a   sharp look, but his expression was bland.

"Let's just get started," she said curtly.

********

"LUXURY CAR THIEVES CRASH AND BURN  Gang Under Arrest

by Lois Lane and Clark Kent"

"Oh, that's wonderful, Clark! Congratulations!"

Clark grinned happily over the top of the   newspaper he was holding aloft, the thrill of   seeing his name on a front-page byline in the   Daily Planet still as great as it had been   three hours earlier when he'd first held the   paper in his hands.

His name on the front page. It was such an   incredible thrill; a dream come true. Not that   he should start getting used to it; he'd struck   lucky this time and he couldn't count on it   happening again. But still... it felt so   amazingly good.

He hadn't been able to resist showing it off to   his parents, so just as soon as he'd been able   to get away from the newsroom he'd found a   quiet back alley and launched himself into the   air, arriving in Smallville a few minutes   later. He hadn't even had time that day to call   his folks and tell them that he had a job, he'd   been kept so busy by his new partner, so the   front page was even more of a surprise for   them.

"When did this happen? You smashed that theft   ring?"

"And who's Lois Lane? Is she nice?"

His mom's question made Clark wince slightly. A   full day spent with Lois Lane hadn't changed   his mind on any of three things: one, she was   utterly gorgeous and he was very attracted to   her; two, she was a brilliant journalist, with   great writing skills and a talent for putting   information together which made him breathless   with admiration; three, she was one of the   rudest, most cold people he'd ever met. And, of   course, there was that little matter of her   trying to cheat him out of his story.

He settled for saying, "She's a great   journalist, Mom. It was a privilege to be   working with her today. I've learned a lot."

And he had. Oh, he wasn't bad himself; he knew   that. But the single-minded way Lois approached   her work, the way she used her sources, her   talent for phrasing things for maximum impact,   had all made an impression on him. He'd had   some impact on their joint story - more than   she'd expected, he was sure. She'd been   prepared to reject any and all of his   suggestions, but more than a few times she'd   hesitated, looked thoughtful, then made the   change or addition he'd proposed, sometimes   with a minor amendment of her own.

"You're a great journalist yourself, Clark,"   Martha said proudly. "Don't underestimate   yourself."

"Yeah," his father added supportively. "And I   hope this Lois appreciates your talents."

<Uh... I'm not so sure about that, Dad...>   Clark thought in wry amusement. But she would,   he thought. He intended to make sure of it. He   knew only too well that he'd never survive   working with her otherwise!

********

What was she going to do about Clark Kent? Lois   lay awake that night, conflicting thoughts   running through her mind. On the one hand, it   was definitely a relief to know that Charlie,   who she'd liked very much against her best   judgement, wasn't a criminal. And he cleaned up   *very* nicely. He was one of the most   attractive men she'd ever met.

Was he attracted to her? She wasn't sure. He   had eyed her up - stared at her, in fact - when   she'd emerged from her bedroom in her normal   work-garb and with her hair swinging free in   its usual bob. But his reaction could just have   been surprise at the sharp contrast in her   appearance.

But he was also a reporter, and competition.   Despite her best efforts, he was now working at   the Planet, and if she wasn't careful, for all   she knew history could repeat itself. She was   *never* again going to get involved with anyone   she worked with. And she had no intention of   giving any other man the chance to advance his   career at her expense. She would be as ruthless   in protecting her own interests as she had to   be.

As she already had. Later that afternoon, their   story written, she'd marched into Perry's   office, closing the door firmly behind her. The   editor had looked up and given her a long-  suffering look, putting his pencil down.

"Well, Lois? I'm guessing that this is about   Kent."

"You bet it is, Chief! What were you thinking   of?!"

"Now, Lois - "

"I mean," she'd continued, ignoring Perry's   interruption, "first he steals *my* story, and   then he comes strolling in here as if he was   somebody! And you *hire* him, when only   yesterday you turned down my request for a   raise! And, to add insult to injury, I have to   work with him!"

"Lois!" Perry's voice had been sharper then.   "Now, honey, I know you're all bent out of   shape because I didn't take your advice about   Kent. But he's a good reporter. Once you get   over this, you'll see that yourself. And I know   you're the best this paper has, but it don't   hurt to have another couple of reporters   capable of bringing in the awards. Which Kent   is, in my opinion. So give him a chance, okay?"

Give him a chance? She'd been furious when   Perry had said that - but she'd known better   than to let it show. The Chief clearly wanted   Kent on board. He liked Kent's writing. That   wasn't good - but there was no way that she   intended to show that she felt threatened by   it. Perry expected her to be professional about   it, and she would. After all, it would probably   be better to bide her time anyway, and see just   how Kent turned out.

"Okay, okay," she'd conceded. "But what about   my raise?"

"What about it, Lois?" he'd countered. "You'll   get your raise next year, along with everyone   else. And you know you only had a bonus two   months ago when you were nominated for the   Merriwethers again. Get yourself nominated for   a Kerth this autumn and you'll get another. You   know how it works!"

She'd shrugged. She deserved a raise; she knew   she did. She'd brought in a number of scoops   over the past few months, and the Planet's   sales had shown a significant increase as a   result. They *owed* her that raise.

And instead, Perry had hired an irritating male   reporter, and made her work with him.

And, to make matters worse, Perry had ended the   interview by observing that he thought that   Lois had crossed over the line in recommending   that he buy Kent's article just to spike it.   That, he'd said, wasn't the way the Daily   Planet operated. The Planet was an ethical   newspaper, and that applied to its employment   polices as much as anything else.

So she'd left the room feeling unfairly   chastened as well as infuriated at having to   work with the new hire.

Kent wasn't a bad writer. In fact, she   reluctantly conceded, he was good. He had   talent. Which made him both safe and,   perversely, even more of a challenge. He was   safe because he wouldn't need to steal her   writing as Claude had - although that didn't   mean that he wouldn't muscle in on her leads   and investigations if he could. But he was a   challenge in that she was currently   indisputably the Planet's best investigative   reporter, which made her the best investigative   journalist in Metropolis. Was Kent good enough   to be... *better* than she was? She'd fought a   lot of battles to get to where she was, and she   wanted to stay there. So if Kent thought he was   going to walk into all the plum assignments, he   had another think coming!

So her first move had to be to ensure that he   worked on his own, not with her. Okay, it had   made sense that they should work together that   day. After all, no matter what her views were   on the matter, they had both been involved in   the car theft investigation. But that was it.   They weren't partners. Perry knew that she   preferred to work alone, and he respected her   enough to accept that. Kent, however much   potential he seemed to have, was still not much   more than a rookie, and he'd have to work his   way up just like everyone else. One lucky break   didn't give him the right to come in at the   top.

And when she'd actually given him the lucky   break he'd got, it was doubly infuriating. If   she hadn't suggested that he take his story to   the Planet...

Although, she reminded herself, that probably   wouldn't have made any difference. He'd had an   interview lined up with Perry for tomorrow in   any case.

She'd only had herself to blame for this   morning's debacle, though, she admitted with a   sigh. Perry had been right. She'd behaved   disgracefully, and she knew it. Kent was a   journalist, just as she was. And, okay, she'd   always - or at least, since Claude - lived by   the motto that all was fair in love and   journalism, but still... She'd stepped over the   line between fair competition and downright   cheating.

If Lucy were here - her sister, who'd been   staying with Lois for the past couple of   months, was visiting friends in California -   she would have looked at Lois in that way she   had; not saying anything, but indicating by the   tilt of her head and the questioning lift of   her eyebrows that she thought her sister had   been unkind.

Not that kindness had anything to do with   journalism! Or making your way in any career.   It was always twice as hard for a woman than   for a man. Lucy hadn't learned that lesson yet   - she still hadn't graduated from college, and   since she seemed to be heading close to   dropping out for a second time, it would   probably be a while before she'd get even close   to starting a career instead of wasting her   time in dead-end jobs. What did she know about   having to compete with ambitious, arrogant   males?

Lois sighed. Perry was right. Lucy would have   been right. She'd behaved badly - almost as   badly as Claude, although she hadn't tried to   steal Kent's story for her own. She'd just   tried to get Perry to spike it - but she'd done   it by pretending to be Kent's friend,   pretending that she was going to help him. That   wasn't ethical behaviour, no matter what she   told herself about all tactics being fair in   the fight to get the story. What Claude did to   her hadn't been fair. And nor had what she'd   almost done to Kent.

She'd been in the wrong. And having to admit   that to herself was far more painful than   having Perry - the man she'd long thought of as   the father figure she'd needed all her life -   be disappointed in her. What she'd done had   been wrong.

Even still... That didn't mean that she had to   *like* Kent, or even agree to work with him.

From tomorrow, she need have nothing to do with   Clark Kent.

It was just a shame that he was so good- looking...

*********

Part 06

Over the next couple of days, Clark didn't   actually see a lot of Lois. He didn't know   whether to be relieved or disappointed about   that fact. Being partnered with her seemed to   have been a temporary thing, only for the   purpose of that one story. The following   morning when he'd arrived for work, Perry White   had assigned him to covering the razing of an   old theatre, the Sarah Bernhardt on Forty-  Second. Lois had been nowhere in sight, and   he'd heard Jimmy Olsen say later that day that   she was out covering the as-yet-unexplained   explosion of the Messenger space shuttle.

Not that he'd minded not being involved in the   big story of the week; he'd enjoyed his   assignment, especially when he'd turned up and   met the coterie of retired actors and others   who were protesting against the demolition of   the theatre. After a short conversation with   one of them, he hadn't been able to resist a   little demolition work of his own on the   wrecking ball. And then, when a couple of the   actors had staged an impromptu performance   inside on the stage, he'd had an idea.

Returning to the Planet, he'd written his   article. Perry had made it clear that he wanted   a mood piece, and that was what Clark had given   him, in spades. He'd focused on the actress   he'd first spoken to, Beatrice, and her career   which had revolved around the Sarah Bernhardt   Theatre. He'd shown that a huge part of her   past was being ripped away by the demolition of   that building.

"... she came to say goodbye," his article had   concluded. "Goodbye to a young girl in a   gossamer dress, goodbye to the players, long   dead, to the spirit of the theatre, so strong   that nothing, not even the wrecking ball, could   destroy it. She came to say goodbye, as we all   must, to the past, and to a life and a place   that soon would exist only in a bittersweet   memory."

And, in a brief coda, he'd added, "Unless, that   is, we as a city, as a *community*, revise our   priorities and reconsider what's important. A   parking garage, offering convenience for   drivers and more dollars for its owners, or a   theatre, offering pleasure and culture to   thousands, including our children and future   generations? I know which I'd vote for."

The article had made its way into the afternoon   edition; to his surprise, Perry had placed it   on the front page. So much for his conviction   that he couldn't expect page one bylines as a   regular occurrence and that it would probably   be weeks, if not months, before it happened   again. Even better, Perry had added a phone   poll, encouraging readers to call in and give   their views... and he'd called up an   influential friend of his on the city council   and persuaded him to halt the theatre   demolition until the results of the poll, and   then get the council to reconsider allowing the   construction of the parking garage to continue.   The councillor had agreed - in Clark's opinion,   that had been more from concern for his re-  election in a couple of months' time than   simply doing Perry White a favour.

And it had worked: the cause had caught the   attention of a couple of TV news editors and   had been taken up, covered in the section of   news bulletins reserved for quirky and human   interest stories. By the following morning,   Clark's final paragraph had been repeated so   often that he was sick of hearing it... but the   theatre had been reprieved, saved not only by   the city council's reaction to public opinion,   but also by several local businesses and   philanthropists donating money to a hastily-  opened Save the Sarah Bernhardt campaign fund.

The theatre would re-open, and Clark couldn't   help hoping that the first play to be performed   there would be Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard.   He'd certainly be first in the queue for   tickets - and he'd ensure, somehow, that   Beatrice got the best seat in the house.

Lois's only comment, when she'd passed by Clark   on her way out of the newsroom, had been a   cynical, "Quite a crusader, aren't you, Kent?   You know it'll only happen again in five years   or so, when everyone's forgotten this, don't   you? Commercial interests always win in the   end."

"Only if we let them, Lois... only if we let   them," he'd said firmly in response; her taken-  aback expression had shown him that she hadn't   expected him to disagree with her. Well, if   catching Lois Lane off-balance would help to   show her that he didn't intend to be walked all   over by her, he'd decided that he'd just have   to keep on doing it.

********

"Whoa, Lois, you look like you're on caffeine   withdrawal!"

Jimmy hurried away before Lois could retaliate,   and she gave his departing back a sour look   before redirecting her path to the coffee area   instead of her desk. It probably wasn't too   surprising that she didn't look her best this   morning. She had pulled an all-nighter, after   all - though that wasn't unusual for her. The   events of this morning, however, weren't that   common, and she was still brooding on what   she'd found, and wondering how on earth she was   going to prove anything about the Messenger   mission now.

The coffee was hot and looked strong. Lois   ignored the flask of skimmed milk and just   added her usual low-calorie sweetener,   beginning to sip the thick brew as she moved   towards her desk, yet again scanning the papers   in her hand as she went. And then she collided   with something large and solid.

"Oops! Careful there, Lois!" Clark Kent's voice   said in her ear, and suddenly strong hands were   holding her by the shoulders, steadying her.   One hand then took her mug of coffee from her,   and he turned to place it on her desk. "Before   you spill any more of it," he explained dryly,   and she looked at him and noticed the damp   brown stain on his pale, multicoloured tie.

Clark Kent. She'd been doing her best to avoid   him over the past few days. It wasn't just that   he was about the most attractive man she'd met   in a long time. The problem was that every time   she came within a few feet of him she was   reminded of exactly how she'd felt in that car   with Charlie. Drawn to him. Compelled by a   burning need to look at him, to touch him;   longing to have him touch her.

She'd fantasised about Charlie. In the depths   of the night, in the safety of her own   apartment, she'd imagined him stopping the car   somewhere remote, leaning towards her and   gazing deep into her eyes. She'd visualised him   trailing a finger slowly along her jaw while   telling her that he found her irresistible. And   she'd felt his kiss in her imagination, a   passionate embrace so vivid that her mouth had   felt as if it had been seared with the heat of   his lips.

She'd been able to indulge herself in return,   running her fingers through his unruly dark   hair and letting her lips trace his stubble-  roughened jaw; tearing off his glasses so that   she could see his beautiful brown eyes more   clearly. And then returning her attention to   those inviting lips, giving in to the need to   trace them with her tongue before exploring   inside his mouth. She'd imagined pressing her   palms hard against his solid chest, feeling the   muscled contours of his body, before pulling   him tightly against her.

Of course, her fantasies had ignored the fact   that, as far as Charlie was concerned, she was   a guy named Larry. In the privacy of her   imaginings, he'd seen through her disguise,   sweeping her woollen hat off so that he could   comb his fingers through her hair, or else her   disguise had somehow magically disappeared and   she was sitting beside him dressed in her most   flattering figure-hugging top and short skirt.

Charlie had been safe to dream about. It wasn't   as if she could have had a real relationship   with him; he'd been a professional car-thief   and her intention had been to see that he and   his cohorts went to jail. Charlie, therefore,   hadn't been any real threat to her emotions or   her sanity, or so she'd believed.

But Clark Kent was different. He wasn't a   criminal; he was a law-abiding citizen and,   apparently, a decent guy. But he was also   another reporter and therefore competition. He   was also a work colleague, and she'd vowed   never again to get involved with someone she   worked with. She would *never* take the risk   again of becoming the butt of locker-room jokes   and newsroom nudges and sniggers.

And anyway, she'd reminded herself several   times over the past few days, hadn't he seemed   to be attracted to *Larry*? The *man* she'd   pretended to be as her undercover disguise?   That made him... well, it put him out of   contention as a potential boyfriend, even if   she hadn't resolved never again to get involved   with a work colleague.

It really was true: all the best-looking guys   who *weren't* creeps were either married or   gay.

What a waste!

She looked away, extricating herself from his   grasp. "Thanks," she said brusquely, knowing   that she was being very ill-mannered, but   unable to help herself. Quite apart from the   need *not* to allow herself to fall under   whatever spell it was Kent seemed to cast, she   simply wasn't in the mood to be friendly. Not   this morning.

"Lois?" His voice, softly concerned, tugged her   back to look at him. "Are you okay?"

About to give him a curt, "I'm fine," with an   underlying note of `mind your own business,'   Lois found herself hesitating. She was upset.   And, for once, the thought of a sympathetic ear   was very tempting. Even an ear belonging to   Clark Kent, whose very presence in the newsroom   she still resented...

Clark was watching her, his expression   displaying concern.  "I know it's none of my   business..." he began, as the silence following   his question extended.

"No, no, it's not that... uh... well, it's just   that..." she began, hesitating   uncharacteristically.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked, sounding as   if he expected to be rebuffed.

She grimaced, realising that she really did   want to. And she couldn't really imagine   herself talking to anyone else in the newsroom,   except perhaps Perry - who might even take her   off the story if he knew what had happened.

But Kent?

On the other hand, why not Kent? Her   observations of the man over the past couple of   days suggested that he was what he appeared to   be: a slightly naive boy from the country. He   lacked the sophistication and guile of most of   her colleagues - those who had at least two   brain cells to rub together, at least. Not that   his apparent innocence meant that she'd trust   him as far as she could throw him - but maybe   he could be the someone she needed to talk to   at the moment.

Only if she was crazy, she told herself   caustically. Trust a guy she barely knew? Show   vulnerability to someone who would only take   advantage of it?

But this, a little voice reminded her, was the   man who'd stuck his neck out to rescue a kid   from a prison sentence. Twice, he'd gone out of   his way to save the person he'd thought of as   Larry Long, a car thief. He'd tried hard to   persuade `Larry' that a life of crime was a bad   idea, even to the point of offering to help the   thief find a job - just how Kent would have   done that, Lois had no idea. But the point was   that he'd offered. And then, with the police on   their way or perhaps already there, Kent had   prevented her from going back to the warehouse   where, had she really been what she'd   pretended, she would certainly have been   arrested.

And, following a trial, she would have gone to   jail. Or, at least, Larry Long - had he existed   - would have.

Didn't that show that Kent had a strong streak   of decency? And that maybe she could even trust   him? At least, trust him to understand, if   nothing else.

She took a deep breath and nodded.

"If you don't mind listening."

He shook his head. "Not at all. Uh... is there   somewhere we can go to be a little more   private?"

Lois waved her hand in the direction of the   other side of the newsroom. "The conference   room's empty."

He followed her over and, once inside, closed   the door behind them. "So, what's happened? Is   it work or... personal?"

"Work." She sighed, then added, "You probably   know that I've been following up the Messenger   explosion."

Kent nodded. "Yeah, I've read your articles.   Great work, as always, even though there's a   lot you haven't been saying."

He was sharp, too - more so than she'd   believed. "Yeah, well, there's a lot of   unanswered questions, and I can't yet prove my   speculation about the answers."

"That's tough. But you'll get there. If anyone   can, you will!" His confidence in her,   amazingly, made her feel somewhat better.

"Well, anyway, one of my sources is... was   Samuel Platt. Dr Platt. He was an engineer at   EPRAD for ten years. He came to see me the day   before yesterday, just before the Messenger   blew - he wanted to blow the whistle, but he   hadn't been able to get anyone in authority to   believe him. I guess I'm not surprised," she   added wryly. "The guy looked like a tramp and   sounded insane. But he knew what he was talking   about. He told me that the Messenger had been   sabotaged."

"Sabotaged?" Kent echoed, sounding appalled.

"Sabotaged. Anyway, I wasn't altogether sure   whether I believed him, but I thought he was   worth checking out - and when the Messenger   blew, I started to take him seriously. Anyway,   yesterday he gave me his report - the one he   tried to show the officials to warn them about   the problem with the cooling devices - and I   stayed here most of the night trying to piece   it together and read it. In the end, I couldn't   figure it out, so I went back to Platt's place   a couple of hours ago."

She halted, shuddering. Clark took a step   towards her, then hesitated, clearly unsure of   her reaction. "What is it, Lois? What   happened?"

"He was... dead," she said tonelessly. "Sitting   in a chair, his feet in a bowl of water, and   holding a live wire in his hands. A live wire   connected to *electricity*." She shuddered   again, remembering how she'd felt when she'd   seen Platt.

"Oh, Lois..." Kent said softly. "You think he   did it himself? Or that he was murdered to stop   him telling anyone else what he knew?"

Her opinion of Kent went up another notch. The   police had automatically jumped to the   conclusion that Platt had committed suicide,   even after she'd told them what she knew. No-  one had considered even for one second that the   scientist might have been killed.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I think he was   murdered."

"Then you have to prove that he was right,"   Kent said firmly. "Prove that the Messenger was   sabotaged, and find out who did it. You can do   that for him."

He was right, and Lois had already come to that   conclusion. But, again, he had surprised her.   Almost anyone else in the newsroom would have   laughed at her conviction that Platt had been   murdered. After all, as Henderson had said, the   man had a history of suicide attempts.

"I will," she said soberly. It was a vow.

"That's not all of it, though," she added after   a moment. "He had... he had a wife and a   daughter. They were separated, though. And I   found out that his daughter is in a wheelchair.   The reason the Messenger meant so much to Platt   - and his family - is because of Prometheus."

"The space station?" Clark frowned, then added   immediately, "The zero-gravity laboratory...   where crippling diseases could be cured. I   see."

Kent was intelligent too, she acknowledged   silently. It wasn't fair, a corner of her brain   noted, that one man should have so many   advantages. Right now, though, his quick brain   might actually be helpful. Lois never worked   with partners, for good reasons... but maybe   there was a tiny possibility that Kent could be   a - very temporary - exception.

"Exactly. And now... well, now that's not going   to happen." Lois blinked and looked away; she   hated anyone seeing her not in full control of   her emotions, but she simply hadn't been able   to regain her composure since the events of the   past couple of hours. "This little girl could   have walked again - and even if Samuel Platt   couldn't have been with her on Prometheus, he'd   have known about it. Now she's lost her father,   and Prometheus isn't going to happen."

"But hasn't the Secretary-General of the   Congress of Nations said that funding will be   provided for the cost of repairs and of another   flight?"

Lois stared at Kent, startled. "She has?"

"Yeah - it was announced about twenty minutes   ago - just before you got here, I think.   Anyway, seems they turned down Lex Luthor's   offer of funding a privately-owned space   station, and I can't say I'm sorry. Something   as important as this shouldn't be in private   hands, and I'm not sure I trust Luthor anyway,"   Kent added with a twist of his lip.

He didn't trust Lex Luthor? Why not? Lois was   intrigued by this, but pushed it aside for now.   The important question for the moment was how   she was going to prove that the Messenger had   been sabotaged. And she was going to do that -   no question about it.

********

Clark regarded Lois in thoughtful silence for a   few moments. His impression that she was like a   chameleon had been reinforced this morning, in   spades.

Since discovering her true identity, he'd come   to the conclusion that she wasn't the kind of   person he liked, even if he did find her   attractive. She was hard, cold, untrustworthy   and without an ounce of compassion. She treated   other people with little consideration, issuing   brusque orders to the newsroom gofer, Jimmy   Olsen, and using a tone of voice barely above   freezing point when speaking to most of the   male staffers. She had little more time for the   women.

He'd have sworn to it that she didn't possess a   heart, much less a soul.

And yet she'd been close to tears over the   death of a man she barely knew, and over the   fate of a child she hadn't even met.

A cynic might have said that her concern was   only over the story, and the fact that Platt's   death meant that she was unlikely to be able to   prove her speculation. But, having seen her and   observed her reactions, including those not   apparent to normal humans, there was no way   that Clark could believe that. Lois really   cared about what had happened, and she was   genuinely distressed.

She wasn't cold after all. Or heartless.

And his own heart lifted in response.

But he squelched that feeling at once. Even if   he was well on the way to falling in love with   Lois Lane, he knew very well that she wasn't   likely to feel the same way. He'd heard the   newsroom gossip, and knew of her reputation as   an ice-woman. Mad Dog Lane, they called her,   and it referred as much to the way she chased   men away as it did to the way she went after   stories.

Some of the gossip was cruel, and Clark had   done his best to avoid listening to it, though   it hadn't been easy. He was doing his best to   disregard it, too. But still, what seemed to be   undeniable was that Lois wasn't interested in   men or romance. There was speculation that she   was a lesbian, the thought of which had   disappointed him - though he wasn't sure he   believed that. He hadn't missed the way her   eyes had widened and she'd looked at him when   he'd come out of his hotel-room decently   dressed, after all. Even if she had no   intention of acknowledging it, she'd felt some   small degree of attraction.

Regardless, she clearly wasn't interested in   relationships. Even without the gossip, the   `hands-off' attitude she habitually projected   would have told him that. So he was wasting his   time falling in love with her.

Even if it was already too late to prevent   himself.

He took a deep breath and made himself focus on   the matter under discussion. She'd probably   reject him out of hand, but he was still going   to offer. "So, can I help?"

"Help?"

"Yeah. With the investigation. I know I'm new   in town and don't have the sources or contacts   you have, but sometimes two heads are better   than one. Maybe I could be useful."

Lois looked taken aback but, to his surprise,   she didn't immediately tell him to get lost.   Her jaw hardened, however. "This is my story,"   she said stiffly.

"Sure it is. I'm not trying to muscle in on   your territory - or your byline," Clark assured   her. He meant it, too; he wasn't expecting   credit for any work he might do. Anyway, she'd   already done most of it herself - more than the   vast majority of reporters in the city would   have managed. But then, that was why she was a   multiple-Kerth winner.

"I just want to help," he explained. "If you're   right and Dr Platt was murdered, he deserves to   have the truth come out. And also, if the   Messenger was sabotaged, what's to stop those   responsible trying again? Next week, when the   colonist launch goes up?"

Lois's face paled; clearly that hadn't occurred   to her yet. He hadn't a shadow of a doubt that   it would have, and sooner rather than later.   She took a sharp intake of breath and nodded.   "Thanks. I'd appreciate your help."

********

Clark was more useful than Lois had expected.   He suggested that she go and make whatever   phone calls she needed to make, and he would   attempt to put Dr Platt's report together,   working in the conference-room so that he could   spread out and wouldn't be disturbed. She   really didn't expect him to make much progress,   so she wasn't too surprised an hour or so later   when he came to get her.

"Given up?" she asked, resigned to the fact   that the report was simply indecipherable.

"Actually, I've managed to put it together," he   said, his tone sounding surprisingly modest. "I   thought you might want to take a look."

"But... how? I spent hours on that!" Lois   protested.

Clark shrugged. "I understood some of the   science - that helped me work out the   chronology. And I can speed-read."

"Well, whatever it is you do, it works for   you," Lois told him, shaking her head in amused   disbelief. "Okay, let's look at this report."

Clark also, to Lois's surprise and relief,   actually understood the points Dr Platt had   been making about the heating and coolant   systems which had led to the freezing of the   ion particles, and could explain it to her in   terms she could understand.

"Something as basic as that couldn't be a   mistake, could it?" she said, almost   rhetorically. "It would have to be done   deliberately."

"That's my guess," Clark agreed. "I'm not   surprised your Dr Platt was calling it   sabotage."

"What I'm trying to figure out is who could be   behind it," Lois said thoughtfully. "Who would   stand to gain from wrecking the space   programme?"

"Good question." Clark drummed his fingers on   the table. "How does blowing up a shuttle and   killing all the crew on board benefit anyone?"

"Only if... someone else wants to do what the   Prometheus will do..." Lois said slowly, her   thoughts not yet fully formed.

"And make money from it," Clark interjected. "A   private enterprise, not a publicly-funded one."

"Like Space Station Luthor?" Lois commented,   intrigued by Clark's suggestion. And then she   stopped dead and stared at him. "Space Station   Luthor. That's it!"

"It has to be," he agreed slowly. "All those   patent licences from the vaccines and other   medication they hope to invent on the space   station... if Luthor owned the station, he'd   own everything, or at least a huge share of it.   If EPRAD runs it, the Prometheus's share of   earnings gets reinvested in the space   programme. Or into Medicaid."

"But could Lex Luthor really have done   something as terrible as sabotage the   Messenger? And kill innocent people?" Lois   asked, almost to herself rather than Clark.   Then, remembering, she added, "You don't like   him, do you?"

"I don't know him," Clark answered. "But, no, I   don't trust him. And as to whether I think he   could do something like this... I don't know. I   have no evidence that he's capable of it,   but... well, put it together. He has a motive.   Did he also have the opportunity?"

"Or is he working with someone else who did   have the opportunity?" Lois amended. "Okay,   that's another angle to check out. But if   Luthor is behind this... it's just become an   even bigger story. Dr Platt sure had no idea   just what he was up against."

"He was a brave man," Clark said quietly. "Even   if he didn't know who was behind it, he still   knew that his life was in danger. And he still   tried to warn someone about the sabotage."

"And now that he's dead," Lois added, "What's   to stop Luthor, or whoever did this, from doing   it again on the next launch?"

Clark grimaced. "Not a lot. Lois, can you talk   to whoever's in charge at EPRAD?"

"Already have," she told him. "Dr Antoinette   Baines. No help whatsoever. As far as she's   concerned, Samuel Platt was delusional. An   alcoholic who'd turned to drugs. She claimed   that she'd never seen the report he said he'd   given her. And I don't believe her - but I   couldn't get anything else out of her."

"We'll have to try another approach, then,"   Clark said thoughtfully. "Any ideas?"

"Well, I'd like to get a second opinion on that   report, first of all," Lois said. "If we can   find an independent scientist who understands   this stuff - maybe a professor at the   university. I'll ask Jimmy if he can find   someone. And - " She gave Clark a quizzical   look, wondering how he'd respond to her next   proposal. Oddly, she felt no hesitation in   actually telling him what she was planning. "I   think I need to break into EPRAD and see if I   can find any documents proving Platt's claims."

Clark smiled in obvious amusement. "You like to   take the direct route, huh? Want a sidekick?"

"You done any breaking and entering?" Lois   asked, a little sceptically; she didn't want   someone who'd be a liability. Even if he had   been invaluable over the past hour or so.

"Some." His grin and raised eyebrow told her   that there was much more that he wasn't saying.   She considered for a moment, self-preservation   and natural inclination warring with a highly   unusual desire to trust another colleague. And   not just any colleague, but a man, and one who   was obviously going to be ambitious, and could   end up being a serious rival.

"Okay, you're in. We'll do it tonight. Hope you   haven't made any plans."

Clark gave her a heart-stopping smile. "I am   all yours."

<If only...> she thought, then bit her lip.   <Clark Kent is *not* boyfriend material!>

********

Part 07

The afternoon edition of the Planet was cause   for celebration: Jimmy's rocket scientist   contact, a Professor Pickering, came through   for Lois and agreed with Dr Platt's theory, in   time for a front-page story. The headline,   `MESSENGER SABOTAGED?', under the byline of   Lois Lane, vindicated the time and effort Lois   had been spending on the story, as well as that   of the late Dr Platt, and Clark noted her   satisfied expression with pleasure. Perry had   put the full resources and might of the Daily   Planet behind her now, and had offered her   backup in terms of other staff.

To his pleasure, she'd refused the offer of   Eduardo and Bannister, and had said that she   wanted him - Clark Kent. And Jimmy Olsen, which   made sense - but the fact that she'd asked for   him made him feel warm inside.

He'd been wrong about Lois Lane. And maybe,   just maybe...

Well, all in good time. They had a story to   work on first. And saboteurs to catch.

Of course, not long after the afternoon edition   had hit the streets, EPRAD had issued a press   release in Dr Baines' name, together with a   letter from their lawyers, denying the   suggestion of sabotage and threatening legal   action unless the Planet's allegation was   withdrawn by the morning edition. Even knowing   Lois's reputation, Clark half-expected her to   show a little alarm at the swift denial, but   her manner depicted even more sang-froid than   normal.

"Baines is running scared," she observed with   some satisfaction after Perry had shown them   the letter.

"You think?"

"Sure she is!"

"She's denied everything, and she's threatening   legal action," Clark pointed out, not because   he entirely believed that it wasn't just a   bluff, but because he wanted to know Lois's   reasoning for assuming that it was.

"Oh, come on, Clark! If our story was   completely untrue, she wouldn't just be   threatening to sue unless it's retracted by   tomorrow! There'd be lawyers crawling all over   the place *now*, they'd already have an   injunction, and every reporter in the city   would've been invited into EPRAD to examine the   Messenger for themselves. And any scientists   they wanted to bring. As it is, Baines hasn't   even invited Professor Pickering to come and   examine it. That all reeks of bluff to me. And   to Perry - didn't you notice his expression?"

"I did notice that, other than asking us a   couple of questions about our sources, he   didn't seem particularly concerned," Clark   acknowledged; he'd already drawn conclusions   from the editor's reaction himself. "So, you   think the Planet will call Baines' bluff even   if we have to fight it out in court?"

"Oh, it won't come to that!" Lois exclaimed,   sounding amused. "We'll get the proof we need   tonight, and by tomorrow morning Baines will be   history."

Her confidence both impressed and amused Clark.   He was certainly seeing the Lois Lane who had   won award after award; but did she ever   experience any doubt about her investigations?   Surely she must have been wrong occasionally.   But that didn't seem to have made her any more   cautious, any more willing to hesitate before   coming to a conclusion. He had the feeling that   the few minutes of vulnerability she'd shown   him that morning were a real aberration; Lois   Lane would never normally allow herself to be   seen like that.

Did that mean that she kept her self-doubt, her   insecurities, to her personal life? Or that she   was every bit as self-controlled and self-  contained there as well?

Had she come to believe in her own   infallibility as a reporter? He couldn't quite   believe that she was so reckless that she   didn't care whether she was right or wrong;   Perry White wouldn't continue to employ her if   she regularly tried to get him to print stories   which turned out to be inaccurate.

Lois Lane was an enigma. But she was an enigma   he wanted to solve, if at all possible.

*********

"You want me to come and pick you up later?"   Clark asked as he noticed Lois shoving   belongings haphazardly into her bag later that   evening.

She glanced over at him, frowning. "I'll meet   you there," she said briefly.

Clark grimaced. Was their tentative truce of   that morning over already? Her carefully-  constructed `keep out' barriers seemed to be   right back up again. Maybe the other guys at   the Planet were right, an insidious inner voice   suggested to him. Maybe she really was a man-  hater. Perhaps she'd just been using him   earlier because she'd needed help. And yet   she'd asked for him as part of her team... that   didn't add up.

And anyway, he didn't believe that she was   really as bad as her colleagues - most of whom   he was sure were just jealous - had painted   her. Lois had been genuinely upset - he'd seen   it in her eyes, and in the way her breath had   caught several times as she'd fought for calm.   He was pretty sure that no-one else would have   noticed; he'd needed his additional abilities   to hear the sounds of her distress. And he was   also sure that she'd hate it if she was aware   that he'd realised.

As he was about to turn away, saddened by her   attitude, she added quickly, "No, wait! That's   not such a good idea... How about I pick you   up? I mean, you don't have a car, do you?"

"No, I don't," he confirmed, turning back to   her. "Okay, sure. What time?"

"It's got to be after dark. Around nine?"

"I'll be ready." Then, as a thought occurred to   him, he added, "You're known at EPRAD, aren't   you?"

She shrugged. "I've been there, sure."

"So if they catch you on security cameras,   they'll know who you are. Right?"

"Right. So? If they catch us, we're in trouble   anyway. But I don't intend to be caught."

"Of course not. But, Lois, if you weren't   instantly recognisable as Lois Lane, reporter,   you could just be some kid breaking in for what   you could find to sell."

"And your point is...?" she prompted.

"We should go in disguise. How about it...   Larry?" He grinned at her.

Lois stilled in the act of pulling her coat on.   "I guess it wouldn't hurt," she said slowly.   "You still got your disguise?"

"I can dredge up something like it."

"Fine. See you at nine." And with that, the   whirlwind known as Lois Lane swept past him and   towards the steps.

********

Lois squirmed a little and adjusted the binding   on her chest before she raised her hand to rap   sharply on Clark's hotel-room door. Feeling   trussed up like a mummy was not exactly her   idea of fun - but if it was what it took to get   the story, then she would do it. She just hoped   that they'd be able to get in and out of EPRAD   quickly.

And Clark, actually, had come up with a pretty   good idea. If they went in disguise - if she   herself wore her man's disguise again - Dr   Antoinette Baines would have no idea just who'd   broken into her facility, even if she did have   a security tape.

Kent was a pretty smart guy. Which, of course,   only made him more of a threat within the   newsroom. Lois had, long ago, learned the   lesson that her real rivals weren't those   working for other papers, but those also   employed by the Daily Planet. She'd managed to   establish her seniority of position with   respect to her colleagues some time ago; but   then, none of them had Kent's intelligence or   his undoubted skill with words. She'd have to   be careful around him.

Although he was being helpful to her now, and   it didn't seem as if his intention was to pose   a threat, that didn't mean anything. This was   just one story, and he was still very new at   the Planet, and a little bit wet around the   ears. That was why she'd asked for him, rather   than anyone else, to help her with the EPRAD   story. After all, he already knew about it, so   it made sense to have him rather than Friaz or   one of the others, and since he did know about   it, she wanted him where she could keep an eye   on him.

Once he'd found his feet, he'd be a dangerous   rival. She would have to be very careful around   him and, pretty quickly, she needed to come up   with a strategy for neutralising him.

And something else... Now, several hours later,   Lois was very much regretting the way she'd let   her guard slip around Kent earlier. She   couldn't deny that he'd been helpful, but that   wasn't the point. She'd let him see that she   was vulnerable.

Weak.

*No-one* was allowed to see that Lois Lane was   anything other than a consummate professional,   always completely in control of herself and her   emotions. With the possible, and very rare,   exception of Perry White; but then, Perry had   been like a surrogate father to her for so long   that she felt comfortable being herself with   him. Not with anyone else. Well, okay, maybe   she let her temper show every now and then, but   that wasn't a bad thing. It was useful, if only   just to keep the opposition on its toes. The   opposition at the Planet, that was. The only   opposition that counted.

She'd let Kent see her close to tears. Upset.   Doubting herself. Hurting. And frustrated,   barely able to see a way forward. It had been   his encouragement, his sympathetic   understanding and his practical help which had   enabled her to walk out of that conference room   and pursue the story she knew to be true.

Kent had done that for her. And therefore she   owed him one.

She didn't like being indebted to anyone - and   certainly not a wet-behind-the-ears interloper   who'd very nearly stolen *her* story.

And nor did she like the knowledge that she'd   allowed Kent to see her vulnerabilities. Not   that she had many. Hardly any at all, in fact.   Nothing that really made any difference.

But he'd seen her at less than her best. And,   knowing the habits of ambitious young men - and   not-so-young men, he wouldn't hesitate to use   the information against her if it would help   him. Of that she was very sure.

Well, there were two things she could do about   that. The first was simple: never to let Kent   see her in that state ever again. Sooner or   later, he'd come to see that it was an   aberration; not the real Lois Lane. And with   any luck, he'd forget it.

And second, she had to rebuild her defences   where he was concerned. She'd let them slip   that morning, with almost disastrous results.   She had to remind him - and herself - that he   *was* an interloper, someone whose presence she   resented. He wasn't her *partner* - in any   case, she never worked with partners. She was   allowing him to help her out tonight because   she needed back-up and he knew more about the   investigation than anyone else, but that was   all. Once tonight was over, Kent could go back   over to his side of the newsroom and leave her   alone.

And she'd be safe.

The door opened suddenly, and Lois swallowed as   she looked up at Clark. He was dressed   scruffily, as befitted his `Charlie' role, but   he looked every bit as good-looking as ever.

Far too attractive for her peace of mind. Or   her sanity, for that matter.

Especially as, her own resolve aside, he wasn't   interested in women. She could only imagine how   he'd laugh - or worse, how embarrassed he'd be   - to discover that Lois Lane had the hots for   him. No; Clark Kent could never be allowed to   see her reaction to him. That was absolutely   essential.

He wore a faded T-shirt and jeans, the shirt   worn tucked into his waistband so that his slim   waist and nicely-shaped hips were revealed.   He'd ruffled his hair so that it looked untidy,   and with his late-evening stubble, he looked   nothing like Clark Kent, respectable   journalist.

Just as she, of course, looked nothing like   Lois Lane, Kerth-winner. Lois frowned briefly   as she wondered whether part of the reason Kent   had suggested they go in these disguises was so   that he could see `Larry' again. Even though he   now knew that Larry wasn't what he'd seemed...

So what? she asked herself angrily, pushing the   thought aside. It didn't matter, even if it was   true. She ignored the possibility and tried to   focus instead on the evening's business.

And yet something drew her gaze back to Kent.   Now dressed in his `Charlie' gear again, he   looked nothing at all like the sort of man she   would be attracted to in the normal course of   events. Scruffy, stubbly, grungy... yet he was   still what Lucy would call sex on legs.

Nothing like the sort of man Lois had dated in   the last couple of years - and nothing like   Clark Kent, reporter, either, who was also too   attractive for his own good. It was strange how   a change of dress style and a different hairdo   could make so much difference to his   appearance.

But the biggest difference was around his eyes.   Lois stared, puzzled, as she tried to work out   what it was... and then she realised. "You're   not wearing your glasses!"

"No." He gave a slight shrug. "Thought it might   be a better disguise. Not that anyone at EPRAD   knows who I am."

"It's not going to be very helpful if you can't   see where you're going," Lois observed, more   sardonically than she'd intended. He was having   too much of an effect on her for her liking,   she concluded ruefully, and it was taking all   of her defence mechanisms to cope with being   around him without letting him see what his   nearness was doing to her.

Clark seemed to wince slightly; then he said,   almost sheepishly, "I'm wearing contacts."

"Contacts? Why don't you wear them all the   time?"

He shrugged. "I don't like them much. I just   prefer the glasses."

<Just as well... those eyes are distracting   enough without having the full effect of them   staring at me all the time> Lois couldn't help   thinking. She could drown in those dark eyes...

But she wasn't going to! She could control her   hormones. Of course she could! It was just sex,   after all, and sex was something she'd decided,   long ago, that she wasn't particularly   impressed by. She was focused on what was   important in her life: her career and her   goals. And she was well aware that people who   let their sex drive influence their actions had   a tendency to lose their focus on what was   really important - something she had no   intention of doing ever again.

"Okay, anyway, let's get going," she said   abruptly. "My Jeep's downstairs."

Lois parked the Jeep just down the block from   EPRAD a little under half an hour later, and   reached into the glove compartment for her   breaking-in kit. Lock-picks, wire-cutters, a   Maglight, a miniature camera and a tape-  recorder were all essential tools of the trade   for this sort of situation. She noticed that   Kent didn't seem to have anything similar with   him. Yep, he was every bit as much of a novice   as she thought. He'd probably want to get in by   breaking a window, thereby letting everyone   know there'd been intruders, and maybe even   risking setting off an alarm and calling the   police.

Amateurs!

********

Clark followed Lois as she led the way around   the side of the EPRAD complex, ignoring the   main entrance and finally halting at a small   gate in the twelve-foot fence. He buried his   hands deep in his pockets, wondering in   amusement how she intended to get inside. The   fence, he saw when he looked at it carefully,   was alarmed and had barbed wire and glass   embedded in the top.

If she climbed over it, she'd be seriously   hurt. If she tried to break the lock on the   gate, the alarm would go off - and, he realised   as he allowed his special vision to engage, the   fence was electrified. A low voltage, but it   looked as if there was some mechanism to   increase the voltage if security was breached.

Clark glanced cautiously at Lois, worried. He'd   have to be ready with some speedy application   of one or other of his abilities, he thought,   if she did something reckless - as she seemed   very likely to do. He could disable the power   with a quick bolt of heat vision - and it was   just as well he'd decided to leave his glasses   off as part of his disguise, he thought grimly.   Was she always this careless? This   irresponsible? It was a wonder she'd managed to   stay alive to win those three Kerths of hers!

"As I thought. Alarmed," Lois murmured then,   stepping back from the gate. He raised an   eyebrow in silent admiration. Not as careless   as he'd thought, then. "Probably electrified as   well," she added, and his opinion of her   climbed higher.

"What do you suggest?" he asked curiously.

"I'm going to cut the wires," she announced in   that same low voice, producing a wire-cutter   from one of her pockets. "Okay, it means   they'll know someone's been inside, but that   can't be helped. There's no other way to do it.   I thought about sneaking inside during the day   and hiding somewhere, but their security's just   too tight. I'd never be able to manage it."

She was talking about herself again, Clark   noted, making it clear that he was with her   only because she needed him for now. Her   personal preference was still to work alone.   Well, that wasn't news to him. Lois Lane didn't   want him around; he knew that. What he should   do was forget all about his attraction to her,   forget the sneaking liking and admiration he   was beginning to feel for her, and just treat   this as a learning experience; as part of his   development as a reporter. After all, he was   beginning to appreciate just how much working   with Lois was going to teach him.

"Be careful, Lois - you don't want to get   electrocuted," he couldn't help cautioning her.

Lois sighed without looking at him. "Do you   think I'm wet behind the ears or something?"   she demanded, her lip curling. "Look, Clark, I   was doing this sort of thing when you were   still back in Iowa milking the cows and   planting corn, you know!"

"Kansas. And it's wheat, actually," he replied   mildly, still determined not to let this   prickly woman get the better of him with her   sarcastic barbs. "And, actually, it's my dad   who owns the farm. I've - well, let's just say   that I've done this sort of thing a time or two   as well, Lois. So, since I'm taller, you want   me to disable the current?" At least, if he got   electrocuted he wasn't likely to feel it!

Lois looked for a moment as if she was going to   reject his offer, but then she hesitated. "I   guess it makes sense," she conceded, handing   him the wire-cutters.

Motioning Lois to stand aside, Clark studied   the fence carefully, engaging his special   vision to strip away the layers so that he   could see where to cut.

<Great> he thought to himself as he began to   snip. He'd only been in Metropolis a week, and   first he'd stolen cars and now he was breaking   and entering. Oh, and committing criminal   damage at the same time. All in the name of   getting a story, sure, but he wasn't really   sure that the first amendment covered the   commission of criminal acts as part of a   reporter's work.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Lois's snappy, sceptical voice interrupted his   thoughts and he sighed, giving her a swift,   irritated glance. "Yes, I know what I'm doing,"   he said with a degree of calm he didn't feel.

"Well, it doesn't look like it to me!" she   objected. "I mean, you're just staring - "

"You really want to take the risk of me cutting   the wrong wire? Or maybe you wouldn't mind if I   get electrocuted as long as you get inside   safely?" Clark couldn't resist retorting with   mild sarcasm.

"Oh, don't exaggerate!" she protested.

Clark gave her a withering look, but said   nothing. In the semi-darkness, he saw her roll   her eyebrows as she stood back, folding her   arms, and waited.

Within a few seconds he'd disabled the alarm   and cut off the current. "Okay, we should be   able to get in now," he told Lois quietly.

"You're sure?" She gave him another sceptical   look. "I don't intend to get killed just   because a rookie reporter -"

"Lois!" Clark couldn't help snapping, albeit in   a low voice. "I may be new to Metropolis, but   I'm hardly a rookie as a reporter. And I did   tell you that I've done this sort of stuff   before. Oh, and maybe you remember which one of   us was better at breaking into cars?" he   couldn't help taunting. Not that he felt at all   proud at the knowledge that he was skilled at   car-theft - even less so that he'd actually   used his powers to do it. He comforted himself   with the knowledge that everyone whose car he'd   stolen as part of the undercover routine had   got their property back.

"Look, I'll go first," he added in a more   temperate tone. "That way, if it's not safe,   you won't be the one to get hurt."

She had the grace to look ashamed. But she   still waved a hand impatiently in his   direction. "Just get moving - we need to get in   and out of here before anyone notices that   we're here!" she hissed at him.

"I'm going, I'm going!" he muttered, and pushed   the gate open. No sparks flew, no alarm sounded   - not even one which only his ultra-sensitive   ears could hear. Clark refrained from shooting   a triumphant look at Lois, and ushered her   ahead of him into the compound.

*********

<Show-off!> Lois thought as she led the way   over to the main building. She could have done   exactly what Kent did, and probably quicker,   too. It was obvious what he was up to: he   clearly believed that, as a woman, she needed   `protecting'. He just had to play the big macho   male role, talking up the danger of that fence   and then making himself look all manly and   brave by insisting on cutting it himself.

Well, if he thought that kind of thing was   going to impress her, he had another think   coming!

Ensuring that she kept ahead of him - he needed   to be reminded just who was in charge of this   investigation - she walked carefully around the   exterior of the large main building to which   the remains of the Messenger had been brought   for examination. As she did so, she kept   looking around her for the security cameras   which were positioned here and there, taking   care to keep out of their reach. She'd hissed   abruptly at Kent to do the same as they been   crossing the compound.

Reaching a small side-door, Lois paused; this   could be their way in. Producing her Maglight   and lock-picks, she examined the door to see   what locks were in use. Behind her suddenly,   she heard a fizzing noise, followed by what   sounded like pieces of metal falling.

"What's going on?" she muttered at Kent, who   was standing behind her, looking around him.

He shrugged. "Dunno." But there was something   just a little bit suspicious about his   expression...

"If you've dropped something, or set off any   alarms..." Lois began impatiently.

"Lois, I haven't," he insisted firmly, quietly,   interrupting her. "Have you seen the alarm   system on this door?"

Alarm system. Okay. Well, she'd guessed that   there'd probably be one, but how had Kent   spotted it when she hadn't? Not that she was   going to let him know that!

"Of course I've noticed it," she said   immediately. "I'm just figuring out the best   way to disable it."

"Let me," he said instantly. "I've got a knack   for dealing with alarms, remember?"

"Oh yeah," she drawled sarcastically. "You were   a natural as a car thief. I'm surprised that   you didn't consider a career change."

Kent's soft laugh surprised her. "No thanks.   The job security's pretty terrible."

He moved forward, forcing her to step aside if   she didn't want to be pressed right up against   his solid body. His nearness again seemed to   make her aware of  him in ways she'd never felt   around any other man. She was conscious, once   again, of every movement that he made; it was   as if there was some thread of energy pulsing   between the two of them, compelling her to want   to be close to him, to touch him, to press   herself against him...

No!

She did *not* want to do anything of the kind!

Kent was a reporter. A colleague. A rival.

And he wasn't interested in women anyway, even   if she ever allowed herself to be crazy enough   to trust another man she worked with. And that   was never going to happen. The chances that she   would *ever* again date a man she worked with   were considerably less than the chance that...   that... that she'd meet a man who could crush   solid steel with his bare hands.

"Anyway, I tried to persuade you of the error   of your ways, remember?" he added, sounding   amused. "That's not exactly a sign of someone   really committed to living a life of crime."

"I thought there was something not quite right   about you then," Lois observed caustically. "If   I hadn't been so close to breaking the ring,   I'd have done some digging... you would've been   out on your ear that night."

"You think?" Kent turned from his task and   grinned at her, showing a flash of straight   white teeth. "I was closer to getting the story   than you, so you'd never have managed it."

The desire to stick her tongue out at him was   almost overwhelming. Lois was shocked at   herself; that was just juvenile! She was a   professional, a reporter at the top of her   field. She just didn't behave like that!

What was Clark Kent doing to her?

Fortunately for her peace of mind, and to her   great relief, he stepped back then. "The   alarm's disconnected. It's all yours."

Ignoring her temporary partner, Lois set to   work with her lock-picks. Within seconds, the   door swung open.

********

Part 08

Snippy Lois was well and truly back, Clark   thought wryly as he followed her into the   darkened building. She'd been so different that   morning in the conference room: open, welcoming   his suggestions, even needing his help and   support. Whatever barriers she'd thrown up   between them as soon as she'd discovered his   real identity had simply melted away.

Now, they were back, and almost stronger than   before.

Well, he'd determined that he wasn't going to   let her get to him or frighten him away with   her brusque, sarcastic manner.

<Frighten him away?>

Why would he suddenly think that was what she   was trying to do? Clark asked himself as he   followed Lois through another door out into a   corridor.

Maybe because that was what she was trying to   do? Maybe for some reason she just didn't like   to let people get too close to her? That would   explain at least some of the newsroom gossip,   he thought, surprising himself by feeling a   wave of sympathy for Lois.

He'd seen a different side to her that morning.   That had showed him that Lois Lane could be   warm, sensitive, caring and compassionate. He   already knew that she could be funny, as well   as intelligent and quick-thinking. For all the   negative qualities that she made only too   evident, there were at least two things about   her that he really liked - and he wasn't   thinking of her physical attractiveness, though   that didn't hurt.

He was still attracted to her. But after that   morning, he'd started to be attracted to her   personality as well as just her appearance.

And he was *definitely* attracted to her   appearance. Even dressed as she was now; even   though Larry Long the juvenile delinquent was   back.

Looking at Lois now, in her disguise, Clark   couldn't believe that he'd ever thought she was   a man. Sure, she was swaggering just like an   over-confident teenager, and her bulky clothes   hid her feminine curves completely. But still,   there was something about her... something   essentially female, even though he couldn't   tell what it was. There was no way that she   could fool him ever again.

And he was attracted to her now, even dressed   as she was, in her scruffy jeans and baggy   jacket, and that horrible old woollen cap with   her beautiful long hair stuffed inside. At   least now he understood why!

The fact that she was sniping at him again was   disappointing, but he could handle it. Clark   smiled to himself at the memory of the way   she'd looked at him outside; she simply didn't   know how to react to a man who didn't allow her   barbs to rile him. He gave as good as he got,   but he did it with humour and a teasing manner.   He got the impression that Lois was   unaccustomed to those kind of comebacks, and   that she was being knocked off balance. Not   that she didn't recover quickly - but he could   tell that she was taken aback that her acid   remarks weren't having the desired effect.

He was pretty sure, too, that she also resented   the fact that he was the one who'd got them   inside the compound and who'd disabled the   alarm on the door. She thought she could have   done it just as easily, he could tell.   Probably, given the expression on her face as   she'd watched him at the door, she imagined   that she'd have been quicker. Not a chance,   Clark thought, amused. He had a few advantages   over her; not that he had any intention of   telling her about them.

Anyway, he needed to stop thinking about his   temporary partner and concentrate on their   reason for being inside the EPRAD centre, Clark   reminded himself as Lois led the way along the   passage. She stopped abruptly, and he almost   cannoned into her - his own fault for not   paying attention, of course.

"Watch where you're going!" she hissed at him.

"Sorry! But if you will stop without   warning..." he defended himself.

But she interrupted him. "Never mind about   that! Look over there!" She shone her Maglight   over to the left.

Clark looked... and stared at the huge craft,   part-shrouded, which was in front of them. "The   remains of the Messenger, I presume," he said   softly.

"Yeah, I'd guess so," Lois said, sounding   almost triumphant. "I just hope they haven't   covered up the evidence yet."

"Lois..." Clark frowned. "You're not a   physicist. How are you going to be able to tell   just by looking at it whether Platt was right?"

She looked at him as if she thought he was an   idiot. "All I need to know is whether it has a   hole in its side. Baines denied that before -   well, it's going to be pretty easy to find out   now, isn't it?"

"True," he conceded. They climbed over the   barrier and neared the shuttle, Clark looking   around carefully for cameras and other warning   devices. He noticed one and quickly fried it   while Lois's attention was on the Messenger -   if she heard the faint fizzle, she'd probably   just write it off as her imagination, he hoped,   just as she'd done when he'd shorted the camera   outside the side door.

Lois was crawling under the canvas; wordlessly,   Clark stepped up and held it for her. And then   she let out a triumphant breath. "There!"

She was right: there was a large hole in the   side of the shuttle.

She was wriggling and fumbling, and Clark had   to look away; the sight of Lois, dressed as a   man, groping around under her clothes was too   much for him. "Let me get my camera," she said   impatiently.

Several photographs later, Clark thought that   she'd be ready to go. But again he'd   underestimated Lois's hunger for information.   "The documents, Kent! The reason we broke in   here in the first place!" she reminded him.

She was right, of course; that was why they'd   come. But they'd been inside the EPRAD compound   almost twenty minutes already. The alarm on the   fence was cut, the one covering the door   disabled. And more than one security camera was   also out of commission. Sooner or later someone   was going to come to investigate, and if that   happened they were in big trouble.

But somehow he suspected that telling Lois any   of this - minus the tiny detail of the security   cameras - would get him nowhere. He sighed and   followed her.

*********

Lois smiled to herself as she headed down the   corridor. This had gone even better than she'd   hoped - she had proof that the Messenger's   destruction hadn't happened as Dr Toni Baines   had claimed. Those photos would make great   front-page material.

And even Kent had turned out to be reasonably   useful after all, although he had a lot to   learn about taking a risk for the sake of a   story. He was far too cautious. She was well   aware that he'd wanted them to leave after   they'd found the Messenger, regardless of their   real reason for being here.

"Do you know where you're going?"

Lois rolled her eyes. What did he think she   was? Seven?

"Of course I know! Toni Baines' office is just   down here. I want to search her desk and filing   cabinet."

"Okay." This time the masculine voice was   conciliatory, falling in with her wishes. "Lead   the way."

Oh, he did have a talent for the trite!   Ignoring her companion, Lois used her   flashlight to find Baines' office. It was   locked, but again that wasn't a barrier to her.   Within seconds, the lock clicked open and they   were inside.

Kent closed the door carefully, walked across   to pull down the blind, and then flicked on the   light. "You want me to take the filing cabinet   while you take the desk?" he enquired.

"Do you know what you're looking for?" she   demanded, sceptical.

"Lois, just remind me... who was it who   reassembled Dr Platt's report?"

Kent's reply was considerably less heated than   she herself would have produced in similar   circumstances. In fact... she could almost   describe his tone as mild. Which was a lot more   than she deserved. She was well aware that she   had been pretty insulting to his intelligence   just there. She knew only too well that if he   hadn't helped her with Platt's report, and   explained the science to her in words she   understood, she'd be no closer to proving that   the Messenger was sabotaged than she had been   first thing that morning.

"Okay, I'm sorry," she said abruptly. "That   was... unnecessary."

He gave a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Fair   enough. Shall we get started?"

His tone was matter-of-fact. Not a man who   seemed to bear grudges, Lois thought in   surprise, and filed that information away for   future reference before turning her attention   to Baines' desk. The sound of a drawer sliding   out behind her told her that Kent had succeeded   in getting the file cabinet open - it probably   hadn't been locked, she reflected. A few   seconds' fiddling with her lock-picks was all   it took to get the desk drawer opened, and soon   she was engrossed in searching for the evidence   she needed.

Ten minutes later, frustrated, she straightened   up and rubbed her back. She'd found nothing at   all. Baines' desk drawers contained make-up and   stale sandwiches, old correspondence relating   to some journal articles, some disciplinary   letters sent to staff related to smoking in the   labs, and a very worn copy of a Jackie Collins   novel. Nothing at all related to Samuel Platt,   the Messenger or any possible sabotage.

Lois was about to turn to Kent and express her   annoyance, when he suddenly moved towards her   with an excited look on his face.

"Lois! We've got them!"

*********

Since Lois's attention was completely focused   on the desk, Clark felt it was safe to use his   special abilities to search the cabinet at   speed; after all, if he was to go through all   four drawers at normal speed, it could take an   hour or more to establish whether there was   anything of interest. The labels on individual   files weren't particularly helpful, as many had   initials or acronyms.

He'd just got to the back of the third drawer   when he found it. A file with the innocuous   label "Future research plans". Inside was a   sealed envelope; he'd scanned the contents with   his vision ability, expecting to find that it   was exactly what it claimed to be: some   research proposal or other. Instead, the first   document was labelled "Messenger cooling   systems."

He ripped open the envelope and read the first   few pages swiftly. This was it - this was the   smoking gun Lois had wanted. There was a copy   of a memo giving detailed instructions as to   what was to be done to the Messenger. There was   another memo from someone who appeared to be an   engineer, confirming that the instructions had   been carried out. And there was a copy of   another memo setting out very clearly who was   to be allowed access to the shattered hull of   the vessel.

At his alert, Lois hurried to his side; she   snatched the documents out of his hands and   began to flick through them. Within seconds her   excitement level clearly matched his.

"This is it! We've proved it was sabotage - and   Toni Baines is in it up to her neck!"

"Looks like it!" Clark was grinning, unable to   help himself. It felt terrific to have got the   evidence to support what they believed - to   know that they could prove their allegations   and see someone brought to account for the   murder of all on board the Messenger, and   Samuel Platt's murder too, if that could be   proved - or even if it couldn't. This was a   major story - far bigger than the car theft   ring, and far more significant than his theatre   story. This was a huge scoop, of national   significance.

"I could get a Kerth for this!" Lois exclaimed   jubilantly.

Clark's heart sank. Did she really only see   this in terms of what it meant for her career?   Was it all just about winning awards? Didn't   she *care* about justice, about setting right   wrongs, about telling the world the truth?   Sure, an award would be nice, but he wasn't   remotely thinking in terms of awards right now.   He was thinking about the benefit to...

Wait a second - she'd said "I". In other words,   she still thought of this as just her story,   her scoop. The fact that he'd helped her out   with Dr Platt's report, and that it was *he*   who'd found the incriminating documents, seemed   to be irrelevant as far as Lois was concerned.   *He* was irrelevant.

Anger and frustration made him snap. "Is that   all you think about? Your next award? What   about what all this really means? - proving   that the Messenger's crew was murdered, the   implications of discovering that *EPRAD* is   involved in sabotaging the space programme?"

Lois looked stunned; obviously she wasn't used   to people arguing with her. But after a moment   she had the grace to look shamefaced. But, ever   belligerent, she responded smartly.

"Of course those things matter to me! And the   first thing I'll be doing once I write this up   is asking Perry for resources to investigate   EPRAD further - if the FBI doesn't get there   before me. And I want to see Dr Platt's wife,   so that I can tell her that her husband wasn't   delusional. He was right! And if I do win an   award for this, Kent, I'll be dedicating it to   him! So don't you start lecturing me about   what's important here, okay?"

Clark shrugged. He'd made his point.

"And another thing," Lois added, barely pausing   for breath. "I want to know who's behind this.   Why did Baines do it? What does she have to   gain?"

That was true. "I don't know," Clark said   slowly. As he spoke, a piece of paper slipped   from the pile Lois was holding, and he bent to   pick it up. "I can't see anything in it for   her. And if anyone ever suspected, her career   would be over - and she'll wind up in jail now.   So I can't see why..."

He trailed off, staring at the document he   held. It was an unremarkable sheet of plain   white notepaper, with no address or other   identifying features. The text was handwritten,   in black ink in what appeared to be a forceful   hand, and dated a couple of weeks earlier.

"I trust that arrangements are all in place as   we agreed," Clark read aloud. "The first   instalment of the payment has already been   transferred. As soon as I have confirmation   that the Messenger has failed in its mission   due to an unfortunate and untraceable fault,   the final instalment will be paid and the   originals of certain documents will be returned   to you. Do not fail me."

The note was signed only with a single,   slashed, L.

"So she was paid to do it," Lois said slowly.

"And blackmailed, by the sound of it," Clark   added.

"Now we need to find out who L is," she mused,   beginning to search quickly through the file   again, producing a camera and taking snapshots   of the pages. "I wonder if it could be..."

Clark stilled, tuning out Lois's comment. He'd   heard something...

"I really don't understand why it was at all   necessary for me to come here," a crisp male   voice said, outside in the corridor.

Clark grasped Lois by the shoulder and muttered   urgently, "There's someone outside!"

She gave him a sceptical stare. "How do you   know? I can't hear anyone!"

From the corridor, he heard a woman's voice. "I   wanted you to see the Messenger for yourself.   After all, you were beginning to doubt..."

Dr Baines, Clark concluded. And the man with   her had to be the mastermind of the   operation... If only he could see who it was!   But they weren't in his direct line of sight   through any of the room's walls, at least at   first glimpse, and anyway he had to focus on   getting Lois out of sight.

"I have good hearing," he replied quickly,   urging her to hide by crowding her with his   body. "Look, they may not come in here, but if   they do..."

"Okay, okay," she agreed grudgingly, pushing   the cabinet drawer closed carefully and   glancing quickly around the room.

Clark focused on the sounds outside again. The   man was saying, "...Congress of Nations *did*   decide to give you funding for a second   attempt, after all."

"Not a problem. The second expedition will meet   with the same fate as the first, only the   effects will be far worse. There's not a chance   the Congress of Nations will risk a third   attempt. And that's what I wanted to show you,"   the woman responded. "Come into my office - "

Clark didn't wait to hear more. Lois was safely   tucked away on the floor between the desk and   the window, the documents they'd found returned   safely to the cabinet, so she was fine. He   snapped off the light and silently locked the   door from the inside before considering a   hiding place for himself. He contemplated, then   discarded, the notion of floating up to the   ceiling; too risky. If Baines or her companion   happened to look up... Or even if Lois did.

There was a table next to the filing cabinet,   piled high with books and reports and with some   scientific equipment on the floor beside it.   Grateful that his special abilities also gave   him excellent night vision, Clark dived under   the table...

...just as a key turned in the lock.

*********

Lois had very reluctantly complied with Kent's   instruction to hide - after all, *she* hadn't   heard anything, and she was an expert at covert   investigation! If there'd been anyone at all   out there, she'd have heard it.

But he'd sounded so certain, and he'd   practically been shoving her into a hiding-  place, that she'd just done as he'd instructed   anyway. Though she certainly planned to make   sure he understood later exactly who was   boss...

And then she heard the door being unlocked, and   she froze. Clark had been right. It was   fortunate that he'd been alert; she really   didn't like the idea of being found in Baines'   office. Okay, the woman was unlikely to   recognise her in her disguise, but Baines would   certainly call the police, and Lois didn't want   to defend herself against illegal breaking and   entering. Not after that cop Fernandez'   offensive lecture about breaking the law in the   course of her work. It'd be just her luck to   have him be the officer sent out in response to   Baines' call.

She inched up a fraction, wanting to see who   came in. Baines' voice was audible as soon as   the door creaked open, so it was obvious that   she wasn't alone. Could her companion be a co-  conspirator?

The light snapped on, and she dived for cover   again before, a moment later, tilting her head   once more to see who was there. She recognised   Toni Baines instantly, but her companion was   hidden from view behind the half-open door.

Lois waited, hoping that she'd at least find   out who the other person was. Would she   recognise whoever it was? Would Baines address   her companion by name?

Then the other person moved and came into view.   And Lois almost gasped in shock. It was Lex   Luthor.

Lex Luthor.

The city's - no, the state's - most eligible   bachelor. At the last count, the fourth - or   was that the third? - richest man in the world.   The owner and chief executive of close to half   the city's industry.

The man Clark Kent had said he didn't trust.

The man she'd already started to suspect, based   on his own involvement in space research.

Lex Luthor *was* in cahoots with Antoinette   Baines!

He had to be. His presence here at this time of   night, and with Baines herself, could have no   other explanation.

Carefully, silently, Lois reached into her   jacket pocket again and fumbled around until   she found her trusty miniature tape recorder.   The button depressed as she pushed it, and she   relaxed slightly; now she'd have their   conversation on record. Which was just as well,   as it seemed that Baines was now showing Luthor   some plans - the technical jargon didn't make a   great deal of sense to Lois, but it was clear   that it related to the Messenger's next flight,   once it was repaired.

"...I think you'll agree that not even the   Congress of Nations would want to fund another   mission after this, wouldn't you, Lex?" Baines   was saying, her voice husky and, to Lois's   horror, seductive.

Baines was trying to vamp Luthor over plans   which were designed to kill at least a couple   of dozen people, and wreck the publicly-funded   space programme and the international space   station as well. Did the woman have no sense of   decency?

But presumably not, since she was so uncaring   about the deaths of her colleagues, and those   deaths she was planning.

Deaths which would now be averted, if Lois had   anything to do with it. As soon as she - well,   she and Kent - got out of there with their   evidence, once she'd grabbed it back again and   as long as Baines didn't take the crucial file   with her, she would write the story up for the   Planet and then call one of her contacts at the   MPD - probably Henderson this time - to get   Baines and Luthor under arrest.

Evidence. She had evidence tying Baines to the   Messenger explosion and to plans to ensure that   the next shuttle flight also met a disastrous   end. But, other than a voice on a tape, she had   no evidence tying Lex Luthor to anything. And,   as she well knew, tape-recordings were   inadmissible in court. As Henderson would   certainly remind her, proving that the voice on   the recording was that of Luthor would be   almost impossible, and Luthor's lawyers would   have the Planet tied up in knots over that in   no time.

No; she needed something more unarguable.   Photographs - especially of Luthor standing   next to Baines in the latter's office at dead   of night, looking at files which, with the use   of magnification, could be identified as those   relating to the Messenger - would be perfect.

She reached inside her pocket for her camera   and, inching up so that she could get Luthor   and Baines in the viewfinder, prepared to get   her evidence.

********

Clark had recognised Lex Luthor just as soon as   the man followed Dr Baines into the room.   Although he'd never met Luthor, he'd read   dozens of profiles of the man who was now the   third-richest person in the world, and he'd   seen photos by the score, in black and white   and full colour; more than enough to identify   the man in person.

Luthor. As he'd suspected, even though it had   only been a hunch based on Luthor's keenness to   offer his own space station to the Congress of   Nations, the LexCorp owner was behind the space   shuttle explosion.

What was already a big story had just turned   into the scoop of the year, if not the decade,   Clark mused as he wondered just how he and Lois   were going to be able to prove it.

The tiny click he heard just then gave him one   clue; it was just as well that he'd only been   able to hear that with his extra-sensitive   hearing, he mused wryly. If the room's other   occupants realised that they weren't alone...

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw   movement from behind the desk. <Lois!> he   groaned inwardly. Did she not even have the   sense to stay put at a time like this? If they   were discovered...

This was Lex Luthor, after all, a man with a   reputation for ruthlessness in business. And   this wasn't any normal business deal; this was   something which could destroy Luthor's   reputation and his legitimate business   interests and send him to prison for a very   long time.

If they were discovered, Luthor wouldn't stop   at simply threatening them.

What on earth did Lois think she was doing?

And then he saw. In her hand was her miniature   camera. With a silent groan, he closed his eyes   briefly and prayed that neither Baines nor   Luthor, who were engrossed in studying the   files spread out on the desk, would notice what   was happening.

He heard the clicks as one photograph, then   another, was taken, and he winced at each one.   But, he thought, the sounds weren't loud enough   to attract attention. Then she took a third   photograph. The camera's built-in flash   triggered - presumably because of insufficient   light at the angle Lois was snapping - creating   a sudden burst of light.

To Clark's horror, Lex Luthor's head shot up   and he turned towards Lois's hiding place.

"What the hell was that?"

********

Lois froze as she saw the flash go off. She was   sure the film speed had been at the right level   not to need extra light! That was all she   needed. Carefully, she ducked back down behind   the desk, hoping that Luthor would decide that   it had to have been a passing car.

Footsteps crossed the room. Baines' voice said,   "It was just something outside, wasn't it?"

"It was in this room!" Luthor snapped, his   voice coming from somewhere very close to Lois.

The crash of something falling reverberated   over near the door; Lois heard both Luthor and   Baines whirl around. "Now what?" Luthor   demanded.

A pause. "This book fell off the shelf," Baines   said, sounding irritated. "I don't see how,   but..."

Thank heaven for badly-shelved books, Lois   thought, squeezing herself even deeper into her   corner. With any luck, Luthor would forget   about the flash of light.

She wasn't so fortunate. "Forget about the   stupid book! I want to know where that light   came from!" he snapped.

She heard shuffling, the sound of items being   moved, and Baines protesting that Luthor was   wasting his time, to which Luthor responded by   telling her to shut up and check the exits.   Trying desperately to hide, Lois shrank further   back into her corner, wishing that she'd had   the foresight to pull something *over* her.

Then the light went out. The fierce crack Lois   heard sounded almost as if the lightbulb had   exploded. There were curses, and Lois used the   confusion to move, crawling into the footwell   underneath Baines' desk. At the same time, she   hit the rewind control on her camera and, once   it had  performed that function, she quickly   removed the film and, fumbling, slipped the   cartridge under the binding around her chest.   Then she put the camera on the floor, under the   wall-heater.

A dimmer light filled the room then, and Baines   spoke. "That's the best I can do without going   for a flashlight, Lex - it's just a desk-lamp."

"It'll do," Luthor growled, and in the same   moment suddenly the desk was pulled back, and   she was exposed to the gaze of the third-  richest man in the world, who was staring down   at her with a face like thunder.

"Got you! Come out of there, whoever you are!"

*********

Part 09

His frantic attempts at distraction hadn't   worked. He'd thought that the book falling   might have been enough to make Luthor and   Baines forget about the flash of light. But he   had clearly underestimated Lex Luthor. It was   no wonder the man was as powerful as he was.

Frying the lightbulb had been easy, though   Clark had been reluctant to do it. After all,   he'd already destroyed three security lights in   the complex, and that was too many to be   coincidence. Someone was going to be asking   questions about just how so many bulbs had   managed to explode in one night.

But even that hadn't been enough. He could only   watch in horror as Lois was discovered.

The temptation to rush out and protect her was   strong. But Clark instantly squelched it; it   would be an absolutely crazy thing to do. Quite   apart from the fact that he was very sure Lois   would be furious at his assumption that she   needed protection, at the moment Luthor and   Baines knew only that there was one intruder.   And therefore keeping his own presence a secret   meant that he could help Lois, once he knew   what Luthor planned to do with her.

His jaw clenched as he watched Luthor dragging   Lois upright by one arm. She came, obviously   reluctant, keeping her head down and a stubborn   expression on her face. He recognised it: her   `Larry' look. Her quick thinking in getting   into character in her disguise was admirable,   Clark thought, then remembered that coming   disguised that evening had been his idea. Would   she thank him for it once they were out of   there?

"Who are you?" Luthor demanded harshly. "What   are you doing here? How did you get in?"

He was holding Lois firmly, and Clark could see   by the whiteness around her lips that the man's   grip was tight - too tight. He was hurting her.

But Lois, Clark noticed, wasn't giving anything   away, by word or by gesture. Not by a movement,   other than the paleness of her features, did   she indicate that Luthor was hurting her. And   as far as the other man's questions were   concerned, Lois was doing a perfect imitation   of a deaf mute.

"That's why the alarm wasn't working, Lex!"   Baines interrupted. "He must be a professional   thief!"

Clark saw Luthor give Baines an angry look.   "Don't use my name!" he hissed, and she   flinched.

Then her attention was distracted by something   else. "My desk's been gone through! Search   him!"

"Don't be stupid. A chance thief, breaking in   here? Into a facility with one of the most   elaborate security systems in the city? Ending   up in your office? And you actually believe   that's a coincidence?" Luthor said scornfully.

"So what are you saying?" Baines demanded.

"He was after something. Something he knew was   here. And that flash I heard..." Suddenly   Luthor, still holding Lois, lunged down to the   floor again. This time when he straightened, he   was holding a camera.

"Now, what could this mean..." he murmured   thoughtfully, looking back at Lois. "Not a   simple break-in, indeed. You were taking   photographs - of what, I wonder?"

His brain frantically churning, searching for   ideas to get Lois and himself out of there   without revealing everything he could do, Clark   could only watch as Luthor threw the camera   onto the desk and began to search Lois with his   free hand.

"Nothing in the pockets... Now, why that   disgusting hat?" Luthor speculated.   "Antoinette, remove it," he added with   distaste.

Baines removed the cap, and Lois's shoulder-  length hair swung free. "It's a woman!" Baines   exclaimed.

"Indeed," Luthor murmured. "And I think I know   just who she is too..." With one swift, and   obviously painful, movement, he stripped off   the lower part of Lois's fake beard.

"Lois Lane, of the Daily Planet, if I'm not   mistaken," Luthor observed sardonically. "Well,   well."

*********

Lois swallowed. She'd known that she was in   trouble once Luthor refused to accept the   suggestion that she was simply an opportunistic   thief, but she'd hoped that her disguise and   her refusal to say anything would at least save   her from full discovery. Now Luthor knew who   she was, and since he was obviously aware of   her reputation, that didn't bode well at all.

She just hoped that Kent had the good sense to   stay put. She had absolutely no idea what   Luthor was likely to do to her, though clearly   murder meant nothing to that particular   twosome. As long as Kent remained hidden, there   was a faint chance - very faint - that he might   manage to find some way to rescue her. And if   he didn't, then at least the truth about the   Messenger would still get out, and the lives of   those due to travel on the second voyage could   still be saved.

Luthor's hand gripped her arm even more tightly   than before. His free hand then slid up her   body in an insulting movement, over her bound   breasts, and coming to rest at her throat.   Fingers and thumb cupping her neck, he applied   pressure directly over her windpipe.

She could barely breathe. Terror growing even   as she tried to calm herself, telling herself   that Luthor wouldn't, couldn't kill her, Lois   tried to swallow. Hands tried to wrench   Luthor's fingers away, to no avail. Her gaze   flicked around the room, desperately searching   for Kent - not that Clark could do anything to   help her without risking everything. She knew   that. But for some reason she desperately   needed the comfort of knowing that there was   someone in the room who - maybe - cared about   her...

"Well, Ms Lane," Luthor drawled, not relaxing   his grip. "Perhaps you could tell me just what   you're doing here. What is your nosy little   journalistic mind looking for?"

"Not... when... `re hol - ing m' froat!" Lois   gasped, as belligerently as she could under the   circumstances. She clawed at his hand again,   digging her nails in as she struggled to free   herself.

His grasp loosed fractionally. "I recommend   that you do as I ask, Ms Lane. I can squeeze   even tighter, you know." Judging by his tone,   Luthor could have been making polite   conversation at a garden party, not issuing   what amounted to a death threat. And at that   moment Lois realised that he would have no   compunction at all in killing her. She didn't   even need the warning in his ice-cold,   emotionless eyes as they gazed down at her.

He was going to kill her.

And rationality told her that he would kill her   whether or not she gave him the information he   wanted.

"I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk," she   drawled, then almost choked as his hand   tightened painfully around her throat again.

And again, struggling did no good at all.   Luthor must have had martial arts training,   Lois realised after several of her most   effective kicks and manoeuvres had no impact   whatsoever on the man. He managed to evade them   all, and he made it look easy. The exertion   made her even more desperate for breath, and   she felt herself beginning to get lightheaded.

His grip loosened after what felt like an   eternity, but was probably only several   seconds; Lois coughed uncontrollably as oxygen   flooded back into her in response to her gasps.

"Wrong answer, Ms Lane! Now, do you want to try   again?"

Suddenly, a blur seemed to materialise a few   feet from Lois - how could he possibly have   managed to move so quickly? And a very angry   Clark Kent demanded, "Let her go, Luthor!"

*********

He'd tried to stay hidden as long as he could,   and he'd struggled with a painful dilemma. With   his special abilities, of course, he could have   Lois out of there in under a second. She'd be   safe, away from harm, and they'd be able to   take their evidence to the police and the FBI.

But at what cost? All his life, he'd been   drilled by his parents - his father especially   - not to let *anyone* know that he could do all   these strange and powerful things. Those   weren't normal, human attributes. No-one else   on the planet could see through things, move   faster than the speed of light, heat things up   with his eyes, freeze things with breath, or -   most amazing of all - defy the force of gravity   and *fly*. The world's scientists - and the   world's governments - would pay fortunes to get   their hands on him to find out what he was and   what made him able to do the things he could   do.

He'd be locked up in a laboratory and   dissected. Like a frog.

The refrain was as familiar to Clark as the   words of the Pledge of Allegiance.

If he revealed himself now; if he allowed the   occupants of the room to see what he could do,   then not only himself but the people he loved   most in the world could be in danger.

<But Lois is in danger now...>

Luthor's hand was still around her throat. She   was struggling, to no avail. And she was   desperate for breath. She was... Luthor was   killing her!

As he prepared to make a lunge for Luthor, the   man's grip relaxed. Lois could clearly breathe   again.

He was *playing* with her!

Relief warring with anger, Clark had resumed   his watching position. Lois was okay - at least   for now. Luthor was still hurting her, and   still threatening to choke her if he didn't get   answers to his questions - but Lois was okay   despite that. He had to trust that she'd be   okay, at least for the moment. At least until   he had time to think.

He had to find a way of getting her out safely   without giving himself away - his abilities or,   preferably, his presence, he'd told himself   firmly. Lex Luthor wouldn't kill Lois. Of   course he wouldn't! Someone like him wouldn't   want to sully his own hands with the messy   business of murder. He'd question her, try to   find out what she was up to, and when she said   nothing he'd give up trying. He'd leave her   tied up somewhere and remove all the evidence,   so it would be her word against his.

At least, Clark had tried to persuade himself   that was what would happen.

And then he saw that Luthor's hand had   tightened again. Lois was fighting, but with no   success at all. Luthor parried her every move -   and her moves were skilful - with casual ease.   Toni Baines was standing by the door, watching   but making no attempt to intervene.

And Lois was choking.

What good were his abilities if he couldn't   save the life of his colleague? Clark thought   with a smothered choke.

And in one swift movement he rolled out of his   hiding space and rose to stand behind Luthor,   his gaze fixed on Lois, who was now coughing as   she desperately tried to fill her lungs with   oxygen.

"Let her go, Luthor!" he roared.

*********

Luthor's grip didn't slacken in the slightest.   He must have had combat training at some point,   Lois thought, or perhaps in those murky early   years of which nothing was known of him he'd   been a member of a street-gang. In any event,   Clark's sudden appearance and command didn't   faze Luthor in the least. If Kent's plan had   been that the element of surprise would allow   Lois a chance to escape her captor, it had   failed miserably.

"Take a step closer and Ms Lane will regret   it," Luthor said, his tone conversational.   Simultaneously, his grip on her throat   tightened yet again, and she stared pleadingly   at Clark.

Kent responded by taking a half-step backwards,   raising his palms in a gesture of submission.   What did he think he was doing, anyway? Had he   imagined that simply by ordering Luthor to let   her go, the man would? Was he really that   naive? Had he really shown himself without a   fallback plan?

Well, they were both doomed; of that there was   no doubt. Even if Luthor didn't break her neck,   in her struggles against his hold she'd felt   the outline of a weapon worn under the jacket   of his elegantly-tailored business suit.

"So. Ms Lane didn't come alone," Luthor drawled   softly, menacingly. "And who might you be?"   Lois watched as his glance raked Kent from head   to toe. "Her bodyguard? Hardly very effective,   I think."

"Just let her go," Clark said, his tone even   more menacing than Luthor's. Lois was taken   aback; she simply hadn't imagined that he could   sound like that.

"And if I don't?" Luthor taunted.

Clark began to take a step forward. Again, the   hand around her neck tightened. "One more move,   my friend, and you'd better hope that Ms Lane   is good at holding her breath."

"Okay, okay," Kent said abruptly, stepping   back; a moment later, she could breathe again.

Kent's gaze met Lois's; his eyes seemed to send   a message of apology. She glared at him; he'd   ruined his own chance at getting out alive and   with the story, and for what? Her neck and   throat now felt bruised all over and she felt   far more vulnerable than she was comfortable   with.

She was in very deep trouble - they were both   in trouble - and she had no idea how they were   going to get out of it. She wasn't sure that   there was any way out. But she darned well   wasn't going to give up trying. Not while she   was still breathing!

"Antoinette, there is a weapon under my jacket.   Get it," Luthor commanded. Held immobile while   Baines found Luthor's gun, Lois was unable to   do anything but watch. Were they going to be   shot?

Kent was standing where Luthor had ordered him   to stay; his face seemed almost expressionless,   but his eyes told her that he was thinking   furiously. His jaw was clenched, and his hands   were held tightly in front of him, so much so   that his knuckles were white.

He turned his head as Baines held up the gun in   a triumphant gesture, and Lois saw him purse   his lips. Puzzled, she stared at him...

...and then the desk lamp fell over, creating a   loud clatter and a further dimming of the   light.

********

In the ensuing confusion, Clark lunged for   Lois, dragging her away from Luthor.

He hadn't yet worked out how he planned to get   her out of the office - the window? Make a run   for the door? - but at least she wasn't being   strangled any more, and Luthor couldn't use her   as a bargaining tool. He manoeuvred to get in   front of her -

- just as a shot rang out. Luthor had fired his   gun at the floor.

Baines straightened the lamp in the same second   as Luthor grabbed Lois's arm and held his gun   to her head. "Right, my friend - *you* need to   let her go," he drawled at Clark.

There was nothing he could do. For a split   second, he calculated what it would take to   grab the gun from Luthor, and realised that   even with his powers Luthor could have pulled   the trigger before he'd succeeded. Freezing the   gun, or making it too hot to hold, weren't   options either - Lois was in the way of his   direct line of vision or breath, and in any   case, she'd get hurt by having an ice-cold or   red-hot weapon held against her head.

Reluctantly, still thinking frantically, Clark   released Lois.

"Good. Now, Antoinette, is there a building in   this complex which is expendable?" Luthor   enquired coolly.

Baines nodded. "This way."

"Good," Luthor said, giving Lois a shove while   keeping the gun to her head. "You!" he snapped   at Clark. "Follow her." He indicated Baines   with a jerk of his head. "If you do anything at   all other than walk to where we're going - if   you even breathe out of place - Ms Lane's   brains will be splattered all over the floor.   Do you understand?"

Clark nodded, stifling the instinctive words of   contempt which sprang to his lips. Getting mad   - or letting his anger show - would only have a   destructive result. They were being taken   somewhere, and by the sound of it they'd have   to go out of doors to get there. Once they were   outside, in the darkness - and even if there   were lights, he could deal with those - he   could find a way of rescuing Lois and getting   them out of this situation.

Even if it meant having to reveal his abilities   to her.

********

Her life was in Clark Kent's hands. If he made   even the slightest suggestion of a wrong move,   the gun pressed to her head would go off. That   was terrifying.

Even though Luthor's hand at her throat,   tightening and choking her any time Clark did   anything he saw as threatening, had been bad,   life-threatening even, this was worse, somehow.   It was the thought that Clark, by his decisions   and his actions, would decide whether she got   her brains blown out any second now.

Of course, Luthor was going to kill her anyway,   so that shouldn't matter... and yet it did. She   had to restrain herself from yelling out to   Kent, telling him not to put a foot wrong. She   couldn't do that - she certainly hadn't been   able to when Luthor had been half-choking her,   and she couldn't now because she was afraid   that any movement on her part would lead to the   gun being fired.

She had to trust Kent to keep her alive. And   trusting a man was something she hadn't done   for a very long time.

What if he decided to save his own life, no   matter about hers? If they were going outside,   as seemed possible, he might try to make a run   for it, to get away. After all, no weapon was   trained on him. Luthor was using psychology;   gambling that Clark cared enough for his   colleague not to abandon her to her fate. Not   to do anything which would cause her death.

But she had absolutely no way of knowing that   Clark would put her life above his own safety.   How could she? She barely knew him. He'd been   at the Planet for four days. She'd spent four   evenings with him before that, and then she'd   thought he was a car-thief - and he'd thought   that she was a kid named Larry who was also a   car-thief. How could she possibly be sure that   he would care enough about Lois Lane not to   risk her life?

Because, she reasoned, he'd cared enough about   her in the newsroom that morning to ask what   was wrong, and to help her out even when she'd   made it clear that he wouldn't get a credit on   the story. Because he'd tried to stop a kid   named Larry from getting arrested, even though   he'd believed that Larry already had a record.

But still... this was different. Both their   lives were at stake. Only a fool would assume   that they were going to get out of this alive.   Luthor was going to kill them. So... who could   blame a guy in Kent's position for trying to   save his own life? Who could blame him for not   feeling obliged to stick around for a woman   who'd treated him like dirt?

Just ahead, Baines opened a door and they were   outside in the grounds of the compound again.   Steeling herself for the sight of her colleague   making a run for it, Lois moved ahead in   response to Luthor's push.

These could be the final seconds of her life...   Silently, she began to say farewell to   everything that was precious to her, as a lump   solidified in her throat.

********

No opportunity presented itself. Baines led the   way across a section of the compound which was   very well lit; Clark would have had to destroy   several lights to give himself any possibility   of getting Lois safely out of there. He'd got   past   the point of caring about his secret; if he had   to take flight in front of Luthor and Baines to   rescue Lois, he would. The trouble was that,   even as fast as he was, he couldn't be sure of   getting her away from Luthor before the man   could pull the trigger.

So he had to wait. They were being taken   somewhere, after all. And unless Luthor planned   to shoot them both once they were there, there   would be other opportunities to get free. Clark   doubted very much, in fact, that Luthor did   intend to use his gun; he wouldn't want a   murder where there was any possibility that it   could be traced back to him. His preference,   Clark assumed, would be for his and Lois's   deaths to be considered accidental.

That being so, he figured that their captors   planned to be long gone by that time. Which   should give him a chance to get them safely out   of there.

He hoped.

Oh, he'd be fine - since his teenage years,   he'd yet to encounter anything that could so   much as give him a twinge of pain. He'd   survive. But he had no intention whatsoever of   allowing Lois to die.

Lois.

She had to be terrified. He was sure of it. Oh,   while Luthor had been taunting her - and later,   taunting them both - she'd shown no fear at   all. But he'd caught sight a couple of times of   a fleeting expression in her eyes: an   expression of sheer, blind terror. She believed   that she was going to be killed.

He wished that there was some way that he could   offer her reassurance. But the way they were   walking, he was ahead of her, and Luthor had   made it very clear that if he moved in any way   other than to follow Antoinette Baines, Lois   would pay with her life. He couldn't risk it.

He would just have to wait until they were   alone, as he was confident they would be - then   he could reassure Lois that she was going to be   okay. No matter what it took, he would get her   out alive.

Yes, even if it meant revealing to Lois Lane,   award-winning investigative reporter who never   missed a scoop, the secret of what he could do.

********

Part 10

Baines was leading the way into a smaller   building on the far side of the complex, one   which looked considerably more run-down than   the others. That was presumably why it was   expendable.

As light flooded the inside, Lois could see   that the building's interior was open, not   divided in any way. Shelves around the walls   held a variety of bottles, cans and containers   of every type, and bits and pieces of   apparently-discarded metal and plastic parts   lay in large bins on the floor. It was   obviously some sort of junk-shed.

Perfect for disposing of a couple of   inconvenient witnesses, she thought   sarcastically as the pressure of Luthor's gun   against her temple made her jerk forward.

"Antoinette, tie Ms Lane's... companion to that   post over there," Luthor ordered coolly, coming   to a halt and, with a hand on Lois's shoulder,   forcing her to stop as well.

Again, Clark did exactly as he was told. Lois   was barely able to believe that this man, whom   she barely knew and to whom she'd been anything   but pleasant, was actually putting his own life   on the line just so that she'd be spared for   what was obviously going to be a very short   time. Unless Kent was naive enough to think   that Luthor wouldn't have them killed?

Regardless, the fact that he hadn't made a bid   for his own freedom, that he'd done exactly as   he was told because of the threat to *her*,   made him shoot up very high in her estimation.

It also made her feel ashamed of her treatment   of him.

Clark turned as he was obeying Baines'   instructions, and for a moment his gaze met   hers. He looked concerned, but she realised in   shock that it was concern for *her*. And, for a   second, it seemed that he was trying to tell   her something. To tell her... no, he couldn't   possibly mean that she shouldn't give up hope,   could he?

But, too soon, she had to look away; Luthor was   shoving her in the direction of the post, and   Baines was forcing Clark to raise his arms and   bend his head so that she could wrap metal   chains around him. And then it was her turn to   sit on the floor with her back to the post and   be tied to it.

"Well, Ms Lane," Luthor drawled, "was it worth   it? To get a story you hadn't a hope in hell of   proving anyway? You know," he added, not giving   her a chance to respond, "it's a shame that   you're wearing such... ugly apparel. I would   have liked to see the real Lois Lane - I've   heard that you're quite attractive. Not that   you look it now, of course..." His voice   trailed off in a sardonic drawl.

Then, without warning, he bent and ripped off   the rest of Lois's fake beard. She yelped in   pain, but then bit down hard on her lip to   prevent herself from showing any other sign of   pain or fear.

Luthor ignored her reaction, however. He   studied her for a long moment, then caught her   chin in his hand. "Yes, I can see why they   describe you as beautiful, but ice-cold," he   observed casually. "I wonder if you're really   as cold as you pretend?"

Without warning, he bent his head and laid his   lips against hers. She didn't react - refused   to react in any way. It was a brief brush of   his lips on hers at first, and she released her   breath in relief as he drew back. But he hadn't   finished; his mouth returned, grinding against   her own as he forced his tongue into her mouth.

She promptly bit it. Hard.

He moved back without a word, but his hand on   her chin slid to her throat and squeezed again,   reminding her of the collection of bruises she   already had there. Then, stepping back, he   turned to Baines. "I presume that you have some   concoction or other of chemicals which could   create an unfortunate accident?"

"Leave it to me, Lex," Baines purred, giving   Lois a venomous look.

Lois could only watch helplessly as Baines   poured a couple of different chemicals onto the   floor at different sides of the shed. The floor   was uneven, sloping down towards the centre,   and it was obvious that in not very many   minutes the two trails would meet. Explosively,   she thought dryly.

Baines confirmed that a moment later when she   faced Lois and Clark, a triumphant grin on her   face.

"Well, Ms Lane; not so clever now, are you?   Make the most of the next fifteen minutes or   so, because they're the last you'll have. Once   those two little spills meet, this place is   going sky-high."

Luthor caught her arm. "Time to leave,   Antoinette. And I take it that you'll be   upgrading your security system after tonight?"

Baines pulled the door shut behind herself and   Luthor as they left, and the voices faded away.   Lois shivered and looked from one trail of   chemical to the other; they were still a couple   of yards apart, but still...

She glanced at Clark, who was silent next to   her. "I guess this really is it," she said   softly. "Bet you're wishing you'd never   volunteered to come with me, huh?"

He shifted, turning towards her, and to her   surprise his hand sneaked through the web of   chains binding both of them, and he managed to   cover hers with it. "Lois, I wouldn't have   missed it for anything. But, you know, you   shouldn't give up so easily."

"Easily??" She almost screamed the word at him,   and she bit her lip again; she hadn't realised   how close she was to losing control. "Clark,   we're going to die," she added more quietly.   "We'll never break these chains. If we had an   hour or so, I could probably figure a way to   get out of them, but there's no way we're going   to be able to escape before this place blows!"

Clark's hand squeezed hers, and she was   surprised at the reassurance she felt. But it   didn't change anything; they were still going   to die. At least she wasn't alone; the fact   that Clark Kent was with her really did offer a   degree of comfort.

"Lois, trust - " he began, but for Lois the   floodgates had opened. Suddenly, tears began to   flow down her cheeks.

"We're going to die, Clark," she blurted out;   when had she started calling him Clark again? a   part of her wondered. "And I... there's so much   I haven't done... so many regrets..." She   stumbled over the words as emotion overcame   her.

"Regrets, Lois?" Clark's voice was very gentle.

"I never did get even close to that Pulitzer,"   she muttered.

"Work, Lois? Is that all that matters to you?"   Clark said quietly, a faint chiding note in his   voice.

"What else is there?" she exclaimed, now close   to tears. She was - *they* were - less than ten   minutes from death, and Kent was interrogating   her!

"Life, Lois! Friends, family..."

"We're going to die, Clark!" she repeated   again, tears trickling down her cheeks as she   gripped his hand tightly. "And... and I know   that, other than my sister, not one person will   miss me."

*********

Clark knew that his priority had to be getting   Lois safely out of here before the shed blew.   He'd already assessed the chemicals, using his   special vision to read the information on their   containers. His first thought, freezing them   with his breath, wouldn't work; both had a   freezing-point of considerably lower than   water. He just couldn't do it. So he had to use   more conventional - for him - means of escape,   once he was sure that Luthor and Baines were   safely out of the way.

But Lois had sounded so forlorn, so utterly   miserable that he just couldn't bring himself   to let the conversation go. Even after only a   few days, he knew Lois well enough to be aware   that once safely out of there she'd deny she'd   ever said what she just had.

"Lois," he said softly, feeling a lump swelling   in his throat as he turned to look at her and   saw the tears she was trying to blink away.   "Lois, that's not true! Of course you'd be   missed! Your parents... Perry, the Planet...   your friends..."

"What friends?" she muttered defiantly. "And   Perry... He's been like the father I needed all   my life, but I know I drive him crazy.   Sometimes... sometimes I wonder how he puts up   with me. The way I behaved..."

She trailed off without finishing her sentence,   and Clark ached to know what she would have   said. Would it have given him more insight into   this insecure, under-confident woman who was   suddenly nothing like the supremely self-  assured Lois Lane he'd worked with for the past   week?

And why was she so convinced that nobody cared   about her? She hadn't mentioned her parents in   response to his reference to them, for one   thing; were they dead? He didn't like to ask.   Why didn't she have friends? Everyone had   friends, surely?

"I guess... You must know what I'm saying,   Clark," she blurted out. "I mean, I haven't   exactly been nice to you since we met. I even   tried to steal your story, and then I made it   clear that I didn't want you around. I'm like   that - that's why no-one likes me!"

And that, she thought, was why no-one would   grieve to hear that she was dead... Clark shook   his head in disbelief. Did she really think   that she was so disliked?

"Lois, people do like you!" he insisted. "I   know that Perry thinks very highly of you. And,   believe it or not, I admire and respect you."

"Yeah, but you don't like me," she countered.

"Want to bet?" he challenged softly. And it   wasn't just a line; despite her reversion to   mild unpleasantness that evening, his decision   earlier that day that he liked Lois Lane still   stood.

"But... I mean..." she stammered, hesitated,   and then continued, "You liked me as Larry. I   know that. I mean, you even tried to save me   from being arrested. And then I treated you   badly... I know you stopped liking me then. And   I deserved it."

Clark glanced around quickly, checking the twin   trickles of chemicals again. They had another   eight minutes or so before he'd have to take   urgent action, he estimated. And Lois seemed to   need to have this conversation - or, at least,   to receive some reassurance, he thought,   frowning at her obvious self-doubt. "Lois, all   that really doesn't matter. It's in the past -   and anyway, I got a job at the Planet, so you   didn't actually succeed."

But Lois didn't seem to hear him. "I scare   people off, Clark. I scare *men* off. Lucy - my   sister - always tells me that I frighten them.   I'm too assertive and forceful. And that's why   I'm still single and not a boyfriend in sight."

"Oh, Lois..." Clark squeezed her hand again.   "Any man who could be scared off by you   refusing to be a doormat doesn't deserve you.   You know you don't scare me off."

She hadn't scared Luthor off, he thought,   remembering with revulsion the sight of their   captor kissing her. But then, that kiss had   been all about power. Attraction had had   nothing to do with it. And Lois had clearly   loathed it - which gave him some quiet   satisfaction, even in their present   circumstances.

"I guess not..." she agreed. "But... well, it's   not as if you're attracted to me, Clark, is   it?"

"Huh?" Unable to believe what he'd heard, Clark   stared at her.

"Well, you're not... I mean, I was... am...   was...was attracted to you, but you're not   interested -" Suddenly she halted, and Clark   saw the flush of embarrassment on her face   before she ducked her head to avoid his gaze.

"Lois, what are you talking about?" Clark   exclaimed incredulously. He checked the   chemical trails again; he had a few minutes'   margin. And he was very sure that, once they   were safely out of the warehouse, Lois would   deny that this conversation had ever happened.   It had been clear to him that morning that she   was a woman who hated to show vulnerability,   and that, he was sure, was why she'd cooled   towards him by the evening. He'd be frozen out   completely if he ever referred to this   discussion once they were back in the real   world!

"You like men... I mean, you were attracted to   Larry!" she muttered abruptly. "Weren't you?"

Clark shook his head in disbelief. "Remind me   to tell you one of these days just how I felt   when I thought I was attracted to a nineteen-  year-old guy! You have no idea what you put me   through!" he muttered.

"See? That's just what I said!"

"Lois." Clark spoke firmly, trying to persuade   her to look up at him. She raised her head   slightly. "Lois, you would not believe how   attracted I am to you..." he began, but the   sceptical expression on her face showed her   rejection of his words.

There was only one thing for it. Leaning   forward, and careless of whether she noticed   what he was doing, he snapped his chains and   reached for her. Before she could say another   word, he had covered her mouth with his and was   kissing her passionately, with all the   suppressed desire he'd been living with for the   past ten days.

And, after her first muffled exclamation of   shock, she kissed him back.

********

Lois was drowning. Buried in a haze of passion,   all she could do was cling to Clark and kiss   him. He tasted of coffee and toothpaste and...   well, just Clark Kent, and his kiss was the   most dizzying she'd ever experienced in her   life.

Five minutes earlier, she'd had Lex Luthor   forcing his tongue down her throat; it had made   her want to gag. She'd heard women talk of a   sense of being violated by an unwanted advance;   now she knew how it felt. But this... this was   completely different.

Clark's kiss seared her lips, scorched its way   into her soul. There was nothing, in that   moment, that she wanted to do more than kiss   him back. She wanted to plead with him never to   stop.

<Hell of a way to go> some part of her   conscious mind thought. They could only have a   minute or two left at most before the place   blew. Who cared, when for the first time in her   life she'd discovered what real passion meant?

She managed to pull one arm out from under the   chains somehow, and wrapped it around Clark's   shoulders, pulling him closer. They were   trapped. There was no way that they were going   to get out of this shed. In a minute or perhaps   less, they'd be blown to smithereens.

His lips shifted, slanting over hers again and   clearly wanting to deepen the kiss. She needed   this. She needed *him*. She wanted the world to   go away... she wanted *Clark*.

She parted her lips further and invited him in.

*********

Something very important was nagging at the   back of Clark's brain. He tried to push it   away; right at this moment, the only thing he   wanted was Lois. Nothing was more important   than doing what he'd wanted to do almost from   the moment he'd met `Larry Long': kissing Lois   Lane.

She'd needed reassurance, and that was exactly   what she would get from him. For as long as she   wanted - as long as he could possibly carry on   kissing her. She was every bit as responsive as   he'd dreamed she would be. She was soft and   yielding in his arms, and he knew that he was   falling in love.

And he knew, with some subconscious   intelligence, that he would love this woman for   the rest of his life.

His life!!

Suddenly recalled to his surroundings and to   the reason why it was absolutely imperative to   get Lois out of there right now, Clark moved   rapidly. Letting his mouth trail lightly across   Lois's face, he groped for her chains, snapping   them effortlessly. Then, scrambling to his   feet, he swung her up into his arms and claimed   her mouth again - if he could distract her from   his use of superhuman abilities, so much the   better.

Half-running, half-floating, he had them   outside the warehouse just seconds before the   explosion.

The force of the blast nearly threw him off his   feet, but he increased his speed and almost   flew across the compound. He'd tucked Lois's   head into the hollow just below his shoulder,   so she was safe, protected from the explosion   and flying debris by his body. Only when they   were well out of the way of any danger did he   stop and turn to look at the burning building.

It was almost destroyed, flames licking every   corner and bits of shed and contents scattered   over a very wide area. A quick glance around   told Clark that a building nearby could be in   danger of catching fire as well, but he didn't   dare do anything about it. As it was, he was   hoping that Lois wouldn't have noticed anything   suspicious about his behaviour. Despite his   resolve to tell her his secret if that was what   it took to get her out of there alive, now he   didn't want her to know if it could at all be   helped. He planned to tell her that the chain   was defective and that it had suddenly broken   loose.

He'd made it out of there with barely seconds   to spare, he realised suddenly, and his heart   skipped a beat. He'd been so wrapped up with   kissing Lois that he'd almost failed to save   her. She could have been killed...!

She shifted in his arms, struggling to get   down. "Clark... what happened?!" she demanded,   disbelief in her tone.

********

Lois had no idea just what had happened back   there. She'd been kissing Clark Kent as if her   life depended on it; she was aware of that   much. And he'd been giving pretty much the same   impression. But then, chained up as they were   with bare minutes to live, that kind of   desperate passion was probably only to be   expected.

That was all it had been, of course. It wasn't   as if he would have wanted to kiss her   otherwise, was it? Regardless of the fact that   she'd practically wanted to jump his bones from   the moment she'd met him.    Although his kisses had been amazing... She'd   never, ever felt like that in a man's arms   before. She'd never become so engrossed in a   kiss that she'd been oblivious to her   surroundings - and it wasn't just because she'd   been wallowing in self-pity, something she   hated, before he'd kissed her.

No. There was an attraction between the two of   them so fiery they'd almost combusted before   the chemicals had done it for them. So didn't   that mean that Clark really was attracted to   her too, as he'd insisted?

But that was one thing. And it certainly wasn`t   the most important thing at the moment! She'd   thought that she was - they were - going to   die. Just how had they managed to get out? And   what was she doing in Clark's arms? Had he   carried her out? Everything had happened so   quickly that she simply hadn't been able to   work out what was going on.

And across the yard the shed they'd been held   prisoner in was burning to the ground. The   scale of the explosion, together with the   intensity of the flames now, left no doubt in   her head that, had they still been in there,   they would have been charcoal skeletons by now.

She shuddered at the thought, feeling an ice-  cold chill run through her. Lois had come close   to death before, but this... This was her   closest shave yet. And, even though she still   didn't know how they'd escaped, she had a   strong feeling that she owed her life to Clark   Kent.

Clark let her slide to the ground, steadying   her with his arm around her waist. "Oh my   god..." she breathed softly as they stood   watching the building burn. "Clark, how did we   get out of there?"

He gave a faint shrug. "I noticed when we   were... uh, kissing... well, I was kind of   struggling to get closer to you. And anyway,   the chains just... uh... seemed to give way.   And I just grabbed you and ran."

Lois turned and stared at him. He wasn't   looking at her, instead still gazing at the   fire. She wasn't quite sure, but something   really didn't seem to ring quite true... And   she had a nagging sensation that there were   other things about the entire evening which   didn't really add up.

But she could think about that later. For now,   they had a big story to break.

"We need to get out of here," she told Clark   urgently.

He nodded. "I was just about to suggest that,"   he said, beginning to turn and lead her away.   "I think the gate we came in through is that   way."

"No way am I leaving yet!" Lois exclaimed   determinedly. "Not without my proof! It's all   in Baines' office - unless she took it away   with her," she added disgustedly.

Clark took a deep breath, and Lois knew that he   was intending to argue with her. Breaking away   from his hold, she began to stride back towards   the main building.

"Lois, don't you have the photographs you   took?" he called after her. "I know Luthor took   the camera, but you didn't leave the film in   it, did you?"

Yes, Clark was definitely a lot smarter than   she'd given him credit for. "No, I didn't. And   I have my tape-recorder still, too. But you   know as well as I do that tape-recordings   aren't admissible as evidence. I want that   file!"

He sighed audibly and, as she looked back to   see what he was doing, he grimaced and began to   trail after her.

"I don't like this," he informed her as he   caught up. "But if you insist..."

"I insist."

"Then you're not going in alone."

"Good," she announced, and had the pleasure of   seeing him look taken aback. Well, it was about   time that she'd managed to surprise Clark Kent   again!

"Oh, and thanks for saving my life," she added,   and caught another startled expression on his   face before he smiled and shrugged.

"You're very welcome, Lois," he assured her   softly.

********

Part 11

Clark scanned what he could see of the interior   of the building before pulling open the door   Luthor and Baines had brought them out through.   From what he could see, the place was empty.   Okay. All they had to do was get to Baines'   office, grab the files, and make their escape.   He hoped that it would actually be as easy as   it sounded.

So far, he reflected with relief as he waved   Lois ahead of him, his secret appeared to be   safe. Lois had received his explanation for   their escape without comment; he supposed that   she was just so grateful to be alive that she   wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth,   so to speak. He hoped that would continue.

Of course, the other thing she hadn't mentioned   was that passionate, desperate kiss they'd   shared just before he'd broken them out of   there. Not that there had really been time or   opportunity, he reminded himself. After all,   they'd just narrowly escaped death - well, he   hadn't, but Lois didn't know that, of course.   And she'd clearly been shocked at the sight of   the burning building and the realisation that   they could have been in that inferno. And,   being Lois Lane, star investigative journalist,   her thoughts had immediately returned to the   story. That was only to be expected.

Would she ignore their kiss completely? Did she   intend to behave as if it had never happened?

He knew that she wasn't in love with him. That   wasn't what he was either expecting or hoping   for. But she had admitted that she was   attracted to him. And then she'd kissed him as   if her life had depended on it. Or, he   reflected, it might be more accurate to say   that she'd kissed him as if it had been her   last opportunity to share any sort of intimacy   with a man - which, to her mind, had been the   truth.

So had it been just desperation borne out of   her belief that she was going to die? Or was it   possible that the kiss might have meant more   than that to her? That she might want to repeat   the experience, once they'd dealt with the more   pressing matter of getting their evidence and   making their escape?

He didn't know. And, for now, there was nothing   he could do to find out. However, there was one   shred of hope, he thought: she was calling him   Clark again. And not with any of the sarcastic   inflexions she'd used a few times earlier that   evening when calling him Kent.

Well, maybe he shouldn't lose all hope just   yet, he told himself optimistically.

Clark smelt it as they neared Baines' office,   and he broke into a run, leaving Lois rushing   to catch up. "What's up?" she demanded as she   hurried along behind him.

"Something's wrong," he said, not looking back.   As they got to the door, which was closed, he   put out a hand to stop Lois. "Stay here."

"You're kidding!" she exclaimed. "I need to get   that file!"

"I'll get it!" he told her. Seeing that she   wasn't about to do as he'd asked, he sighed.   "Lois, can't you smell it?"

"Smell what?"

"Smoke!"

Lois rolled her eyes at him. "Clark, of   *course* I can smell smoke! There's an entire   building going up in flames over there,   remember? The one in which we were almost   barbecued?"

"No, Lois," Clark said with exaggerated   patience. "I mean, there's a smell of smoke   coming *from this room*. I can smell it."

She gave him a sceptical look, then reached for   the door-handle before he could stop her. Her   hand was snatched back almost immediately.   "It's hot!"

Clark bit back the words "That's what I've been   trying to tell you," and pulled off his jacket.   "Let me do it," he said. "I'll get the file -   assuming it's not already been destroyed, that   is."

"Clark, it could be dangerous," Lois protested,   even as he was gripping the door-handle. "At   least let me find a fire extinguisher..."

"Go and look for one," he suggested, grateful   for the idea; it should distract her long   enough for him to do what he had to do.

The room was full of smoke, and flames licked   the papers on the desk. Yellowy tendrils were   also trailing up the blinds and advancing   across the floor. The bookcase close to the   door was in flames; Clark guessed, from the   state of the room, that the fire had started   there. A couple of burning books had clearly   fallen to the floor, causing the fire to   spread.

The file should be in the cabinet, he knew -   unless, of course, whoever had started the fire   had taken it with them. The fire had been   deliberately started. That was apparent to him,   even if he hadn't already spotted the   microscopic, burnt-out incendiary device on one   of the bookshelves.

The sprinklers were on, but at a guess Clark   would have said that they'd been tampered with;   no more than a faint trickle of water came out   of just a few holes, rendering them almost   completely ineffective. Whoever had set the   fire had known what they were doing.

Who had started it? Luthor or Baines? Or both?   They were the only ones with motive, the motive   being to destroy evidence, of course. But if   that was so, then why not simply remove the   incriminating documents? Clark wondered as he   opened the cabinet again. Unless, he thought,   the intention was that the fire should spread   throughout the massive building, destroying the   hulk of the Messenger too, so that no evidence   would exist to support a claim that it had been   sabotaged? It made sense; Lex Luthor wasn't the   type to leave loose ends, and someone who'd   been found in the kind of incriminating   situation that Luthor had been in tonight   wouldn't assume that nobody else knew what the   two reporters had clearly been checking out.

It was hot in the office as well, which was   only to be expected; the fire was getting worse   by the second, especially now that the door   stood ajar. He just hoped that Lois had the   sense to stay well back.

His fingers had just fastened around the file   they needed - much to his amazement, it was   still there - when Lois reappeared at the door,   holding a fire extinguisher.

"Clark!" she yelled. "Clark! Are you okay?   Hurry up!" As she spoke, she began to spray   foam into the office, directing it straight at   him.

She was *worried* about him? Unbidden, his   heart leapt. Did that mean she cared? Maybe   that kiss had meant more to her than he'd been   assuming.

He could hope...

One quick movement and he was back outside the   door. Pulling it closed behind him, he caught   Lois's arm. "Come on - we'd better get out of   here. I don't suppose you want to explain to   the police or fire department what we're doing   here?"

"Of course not!" She joined him, hurrying out   of the building and across the courtyard,   making their escape through the gate just as   fire sirens could be heard in the distance.

*******

They'd just made it. Lois hit the accelerator   with Clark barely inside the car, and as she   screeched away with a squeal of tyres she saw   fire-trucks in her rear mirror. Their   fingerprints were no doubt everywhere, but that   was okay; by the time anyone actually got   around to taking prints, they'd have the story   written and the police briefed.

She still had no idea how they'd managed to get   out of that shed alive. They'd clearly done it   by the skin of their teeth - or rather, Clark   had done it. Lois herself had had nothing to do   with it.

And that was twice this evening that he'd saved   her life, she thought. It hadn't been at all   clear to her whether Lex Luthor would have   killed her with his bare hands when he'd been   choking her, but at the time she'd been afraid   for her life. She hadn't expected any kind of   help to come from Clark; not because she   thought he wouldn't care, but because it just   hadn't made sense for him to reveal his   presence as well when at least one of them   could have got away and told the story.   Besides, there really hadn't been a lot he   could have done.

And yet he'd tried. With the odds stacked   heavily against him, he'd risked his own life   to try to save hers. That had either been very   foolish or incredibly brave. Something about   Clark Kent was encouraging her to believe that   it was the latter.

No, she *knew* that it was the latter. After   all, he could easily have made a break for   safety himself when Luthor and Baines had been   taking them to the shed. The only weapon had   been trained on her. And Clark was an athletic-  looking guy, pretty strong too from what she'd   seen. He could easily have made a run for it,   using the buildings and the semi-darkness as   cover. She might have died, but he could have   reasoned that she was going to die anyway.

He'd risked his own life for the faint chance   that he might be able to save hers.

Yes, Clark Kent was definitely one of that very   rare breed: a decent man with principles, who   could be relied upon. And *that* was something   Lois needed to take away and think about.

He also seemed to have something of a charmed   life - or at least luck had been on his side   tonight. When she'd returned to Baines' office   with the fire-extinguisher, the flames had been   pretty intense and she'd been sure that he had   to be in danger of getting badly burned. And   yet he'd come out carrying the file under his   jacket, looking perfectly okay. All right, his   clothes were a little scorched and she thought   she could smell singeing, but he was clearly   completely unhurt. He wasn't even coughing!

But she didn't have time now to ponder on the   enigma that Clark Kent seemed to pose. In just   over ten minutes they'd be back at the Daily   Planet, armed with one of the biggest stories   Lois had ever encountered. It was going to be a   frantic few hours, and she needed to consider   just what her first move was going to be.   Clearly Perry would have to be called, and she   also had photographs to develop and a tape to   take care of. The police would have to be   informed, and the Planet's lawyers would have   to be consulted as well. She couldn't see   either of them - Clark or herself - getting any   sleep that night.

Not that it mattered. If she didn't win at   least a Kerth for this, she'd eat that darned   bust-binder she was wearing!

*********

Five hours later, Clark finally unwound himself   from his chair, which had been pulled up next   to Lois's desk since shortly after they'd   arrived back at the newsroom. The delayed last   morning edition had just gone to press, and at   last he and Lois could go home, with Perry's   permission not to return until afternoon.

Perry had been extremely excited, but at the   same time cautious, and every single word had   been scrutinised over and over by the lawyers.   The police team, led by an Inspector Henderson,   had also insisted on seeing every scrap of   evidence Lois and Clark had, and Lois had   resisted every step of the way, arguing that   she had every right to hold onto it until she'd   written her story.

"I'm not withholding anything," she'd insisted   in response to Henderson's blunt statement.   "Don't forget, you guys wouldn't know anything   about this if it wasn't for Clark and me. So   you owe me!"

If Lois had had her way, four pages or more of   the day's edition would have been taken up with   the Luthor-EPRAD-Messenger scoop. However, the   police had been insistent, and had been   supported by the paper's lawyers in their   position that neither Luthor nor Baines be   named at that point, and that evidence which   would be crucial to a trial not be explained in   detail. Anything which would be deemed to be   prejudicial to a fair trial, or which would   give Luthor's legal team an opportunity to   retaliate first, was not to be published. Lois   had only been partly mollified by the promise   of full exclusives every step of the way, from   the arrests to, as everyone hoped, the   convictions.

Henderson had despatched teams of officers,   armed with warrants, to EPRAD, Lex Luthor's   various properties and Dr Baines' home within   minutes of being summoned to the Planet   newsroom. Clark knew that Lois had been hoping   for news of arrests to come in before their   final deadline, and he'd seen her chagrin when   the police had nothing to report. Dr Baines   wasn't at her home, and her car was missing; an   APB had so far failed to turn up any trace of   her. Lex Luthor's staff were doing an excellent   job of denying knowledge of his whereabouts,   and additional squad cars had been sent to the   private airfield where his helicopter and Lear   jet fleets were kept.

Nevertheless, the story of how the Messenger   really had been sabotaged, with callous   disregard for the lives of all of its crew and   the grief of their families, made it to print,   along with some of the evidence which had been   uncovered to prove it. While the identities of   those who'd planned the sabotage were withheld,   the story made it perfectly clear that the   absence of names was `for legal reasons only';   in other words, the Daily Planet knew exactly   who had done it, but it was now a matter for   the police and the courts.

Other column inches were taken up with news of   the mysterious explosion and fires in two   separate parts of the EPRAD complex, with the   story behind the first one summarised without   the kind of detail which would give Henderson   nightmares, and some speculative conclusions   were hinted at in relation to the second fire,   all the time making clear that no forensic   investigation had yet taken place and no cause   could be stated.

They were great articles, Clark thought with   some pride. And he and Lois had worked on them   together. That had been one of the most   surprising things about the past five hours. As   soon as they'd got back to the newsroom, Lois's   first action had been to call Perry,   instructing Clark in the meantime to boot up   her computer. Then she'd told him to pull a   chair up to her desk. At his puzzled look,   she'd said, only sounding mildly irritated,   "Well, how do you expect this to work if you're   sitting over there?"

They'd discussed together the presentation of   their stories; they'd argued as one with the   police, lawyers and Perry, even though Clark   believed that in some areas at least Lois was   in the wrong; they'd worked together on   assembling the material they were left with   into reasonable order and writing the different   stories and sidebars. Sometimes he'd been at   the keyboard and sometimes she had, but   regardless of who had been typing, they'd both   had input into the finished work.

And the biggest surprise of all had been after   Clark had got back from the conference room,   where he'd been giving his own statement to the   officer who had been given the job of   interviewing Lois and himself. Lois, just about   to go to give her own statement, had shown him   the final version of their work to check   through before it was sent to the duty sub and   then Perry. Below the space she'd left at the   top for headlines to be inserted were the words   `By Lois Lane and Clark Kent'. On *every*   article.

He'd been delighted. He was still stunned.

Lois Lane, who'd insisted throughout that this   was *her* story and that he was only there on   sufferance because she'd needed backup, was   crediting him with equal authorship, and thus   ownership, of the work. And that meant, he   realised as he moved over to Lois's desk to bid   her goodnight - for what was left of the night   - that if she did get nominated for awards for   the story, any nominations would also be his.   She would have to *share* them with him.   Clearly she was aware of that, and yet she'd   given him full credit anyway.

She'd have been perfectly within her rights to   claim full authorship herself and simply accord   him a credit for assistance; or, as appeared on   some stories, a note under the main story   saying `Additional reporting by Clark Kent'. As   someone who was still very much a new boy at   the Planet, and certainly junior to the   renowned Lois Lane, that had been about as much   as he could have expected. For probably the   third time that day, Lois had completely gone   against his expectations of her.

"Lois, I'm heading home," he said quietly. She   was gathering together her own things, but she   turned to look at him as he spoke, and Clark   was filled with admiration for her once again.   It was almost four in the morning. She'd had   almost no sleep the night before, and she'd   been working flat out all day and then again   from nine that evening. Yet she didn't look   remotely tired. He could understand that she'd   been running on adrenalin since they'd got back   to the Planet; her excitement had been palpable   and completely understandable. Yet even now,   when she should have been flagging at the very   least, if not asleep on her feet, there was   still a febrile light of exhilaration in her   eyes.

She straightened. "Want a ride?" The offer was   casual, but friendly. "It's not much out of my   way," she added.

He'd been planning on flying, but the thought   of spending a further twenty minutes in Lois's   company was too tempting. "Sure! Thanks."

"Thanks for the byline, by the way," he said,   as they walked over to the elevator, trying to   sound casual although he was aware that he was   failing miserably.

Lois shrugged. "It's as much your story as it   is mine now. I can't deny that, and even if I   tried to Perry wouldn't let me."

Her casual act didn't fool Clark, and it made   him feel a little better about his own lack of   `cool'. Clearly Lois wasn't used to sharing   bylines, and just as obviously she'd felt that   she owed it to him after the night they'd had.   They really had worked as a team on the   investigation, and not just when they'd been in   the EPRAD complex. The hours they'd just spent   in the newsroom had been pure teamwork from   start to finish.

And it had felt great.

"I owed you, anyway," Lois added, and this time   the appearance of casualness in her voice was   even less convincing. "I'd be dead if it wasn't   for you. So thank you again."

Clark wanted to make a big deal of it even less   than Lois obviously did. "You're welcome. But   it was nothing."

"Still. Thank you," she said quietly.

They travelled in silence in the elevator down   to the parking garage, and conversation in the   Jeep quickly turned to the likelihood of Lex   Luthor being arrested.

"People like him always land on their feet,"   Lois said cynically. "He's probably halfway to   some Pacific haven by now."

"You may be right, but I hope not," Clark   replied. "He and Baines need to be brought to   justice for what they did - and for what   they're planning to do. It's simply not fair   that people like them get away with murder."

Lois shook her head. "You're still too soft for   your own good, Kent. You need to wake up and   learn that life's not fair. It's not what   you've done or how nice a person you are that   matters; it's how much money and influence you   have. Nice guys just don't get anywhere in this   world," she added with even more cynicism.

"I'm not going to give up hope that they'll be   arrested," Clark said, refusing to continue the   generalisation that she'd started. He knew that   his principles and beliefs were pretty rare in   today's world, especially in the big cities,   but he still preferred to be an optimist rather   than a cynic. But he still wondered what had   happened to Lois to turn her into such a   pessimist, so unwilling to believe in the   innate good in most people.

For a while, earlier that night, he might even   have had a chance to find out. She'd confessed   to him things he was sure that she'd never   before told anyone. Fears, insecurities, the   belief that she wasn't even liked, let alone   loved. And, of course, the fact that she was   attracted to him...

In the mood she'd been in, she would have told   him why she was so cynical about life. Instead,   she'd come apart in his arms, kissing him in a   way which had made him feel as if he'd died and   gone to heaven. And, as he sat next to her in   the confined space of the Jeep, all thoughts of   getting to the bottom of Lois's cynicism   disappeared as he was filled with the longing   to reach for her and pull her back into his   arms and cover her lips with his once again.

Not that he could. Although Lois hadn't once   returned to her previous attitude towards him   after their escape, neither had she given any   indication that she so much as remembered their   kiss, let alone had liked it or wanted to   repeat it.

The silence in the car shook him out of his   reverie, and he realised that they were parked   outside the Apollo Hotel and Lois was giving   him a quizzical look. "Earth to Clark!" she   said as he blinked and looked at her. "Falling   asleep?"

"Uh... no," he admitted. "I was just distracted   for a minute. Sorry."

"Good," she said decisively. "We need to talk,   and I think we'd better do it now."

Startled, Clark stared at her. Had he been   wrong? Did she want to discuss their kiss after   all? Or... was it just that she was regretting   her near-deathbed confidences and wanted to   make sure that he'd never breathe a word of any   of it?

"You don't have to worry, Lois. I won't say a   thing..." he began.

But she cut across him, her words striking fear   into his heart.

"You did some pretty amazing things tonight.   You thought I didn't notice, but I did. Just   who - or what - are you, Clark Kent?"

********

She hadn't been sure. Not completely; it had   been speculation and - one of her trademarks -   reaching. But the look on Clark's face as she   finished speaking told her that she'd been   absolutely right.

He looked like a wild animal trapped with no   escape. His eyes held panic, fear and the   burning desire to escape; she could almost   sense him casting around for any means of   fleeing. Even as she watched him, his eyes   flicked from side to side. Was he debating the   merits of simply leaping from the Jeep and   running? But what good would that do him?

She'd had the past five hours to mull over in   her mind all of the events of the night - *all*   of them, including things which had at the time   just appeared to be weird coincidences. Just   how *had* he got them out of that shed? Even at   the time, she hadn't believed his story about   there being a weak link in the chains. She'd   tried the chains herself when she'd been tied   up; there hadn't been anything weak at all   about their fastenings. She'd barely had room   to move - so how had he managed to manoeuvre   himself so that he could hold her? And kiss   her?

And then there'd been their miraculous escape.   Not just the fact that he'd somehow managed to   break the unbreakable chains, but the speed at   which they'd ended up out of the shed and on   the other side of the compound altogether.   She'd been distracted at the time, true; but   she knew that she'd been vaguely conscious of   something rather like rushing wind, and a   sensation of moving at an incredible speed.   Something like being propelled along on one of   those runaway trains at a theme park.

When she'd been able to see what had happened,   she'd been in his arms. Clark had been holding   her, with little apparent effort on his part,   it seemed. Okay, he was tall and muscular, so   lifting her wouldn't be much of a problem for   him; but running out of the shed with her in   his arms and then standing holding her - and   not even being short of breath? Something   wasn't quite right there.

Other coincidences had also begun to look less   coincidental: all those mysterious happenings   in Baines' office, for instance. A light which   had suddenly blown out. A book falling off a   shelf. A desk lamp falling over. Other things:   alarms disabled rather too easily, security   lights which had suddenly failed, a file found   in less time than she could possibly have   managed.

Yes, there was definitely something different   about Clark Kent. And his reaction to her   question had just proved it.

Lois had never believed in the paranormal. So-  called psychics sent her kookie-alert up to   full blast. `New-age' gurus left her rolling   her eyes. And yet here she was all but   accepting that Clark Kent was capable of some   sort of... well, telekinesis was the only   possible explanation she could think of.

It sounded crazy - it *was* crazy! But how else   could she explain what she *knew* had been   going on?

"Lois... I..." Finally, he spoke, but seemed   completely at a loss as to what to say. Then he   sighed and said, "You'd better come inside. We   can't talk in here."

Remembering what his room had looked like, Lois   grimaced. "I'd say we'd be more comfortable   right where we are! That place is a flea-pit!"

"I know." He looked even more uncomfortable, if   that were possible. "I'm - I was - looking for   an apartment to rent."

Making a sudden decision, Lois started the   engine again. "We can talk at my place."

*********

Part 12

Clark slumped into his seat as Lois executed a   U-turn, steering the Jeep back into the street   and towards her apartment. After all his   caution, all the lectures and good advice from   his parents. After little more than a week in   Metropolis, in the best job he'd ever had, he'd   given himself away. He'd revealed his secret,   and not to just anyone, either.

No; he'd had to reveal it to the top   investigative journalist in the city. A woman   known for her refusal ever to let go of a   scoop.

She'd make mincemeat of him.

She'd hang him out to dry. In the full public   gaze of Metropolis.

He wanted to jump out of her car right now. Fly   to Smallville, tell his parents what had   happened, and then fly straight to the other   side of the world. Change his name - he'd done   that before, too - and start again.

But he owed it to his parents at least to try   to persuade Lois to be circumspect. He had no   hope that she'd keep her knowledge to herself,   but if she at least agreed to give him a false   name so that his parents wouldn't be   identified, that would help...

Though, he reminded himself, she had no proof   at the moment. Only suspicions. And he hadn't   said anything to confirm them.

Or had he? He hadn't denied it. He'd been   unable to come up with anything at all to say,   hadn't he? And Lois was too clever not to have   drawn her own conclusions from his reaction and   his no doubt panicked and guilty expression.

Okay. She knew - well, she knew enough to be   certain that there was something different   about him. But she had no proof; nothing that   she could take to the Planet and have Perry   print. He guessed that if she went to the   editor with what she had so far, Perry would   laugh in her face and direct her to the   National Whisper, with its weekly tales of   alien invasion and how Elvis Presley was living   in someone's back yard and serving lattes at   the Moondoe's down the road.

So he should talk to her, find out how much she   knew and how much was guesswork, and then he   could quietly make arrangements to leave   Metropolis before she was able to trap him into   anything that *would* give her proof.

After all, what could she possibly know for   sure? Very little. She had no idea, for   instance, that he might be a government   experiment or an alien. She couldn't possibly   know that he could fly.

Yes. That was what he should do. If he took the   offensive...

Taking the offensive. Suddenly, Clark had an   idea...

********

Lois led the way into her apartment, shutting   the door behind Clark as he joined her. For a   minute there in her Jeep, she'd wondered if he   was on the point of bolting, and she'd almost   reached for the central locking control; but   then he'd seemed to relax and she'd decided not   to bother.

Just what was he? Who was he? How had he   managed to do all of those strange things? What   was he doing in Metropolis, working as a   reporter, if he could do the sort of things   he'd done tonight? Surely he could make much   more money - and achieve fame too, if that   appealed to him - by making his powers, or   whatever they were, public?

Or he could do it by turning to a life of   crime, using his abilities, whatever they were,   to help him. Though admittedly that didn't   sound like the Clark Kent she knew; the Clark   Kent who'd even tried to dissuade `Larry Long'   away from car-theft.

*How* was he able to do all those things? And   just what had he done, anyway? Was it   telekinesis? Or something more easily   explained?

She turned to him, ready to release her barrage   of questions.

"Lois, why do you think you're not attractive?"   he asked before she could say a word.

Lois blinked. What had that got to do with   anything? "I don't know what you're talking ab   - Look, we came here to talk about you!"

"But I want to talk about you," he said   blandly, but his expression suggested that he   wouldn't be distracted from his question. "Why,   Lois? You have to know how attractive you are.   What makes you think otherwise?"

"I don't!" she protested, stung. "Clark, this   isn't about me -"

"I find you very attractive," he continued, as   if she hadn't spoken. "I was amazed that you   didn't realise that."

She was fast losing control of this   conversation, Lois realised. "Clark, we need to   talk about you! Like, just how did you manage   to do all those things tonight?"

"I'd rather talk about you," he countered. "And   the fact that you kissed me earlier."

"Hey! You were the one doing the kissing,   buster!" Lois objected.

"And you were the one kissing me back." He   grinned at her. "You're not going to try to   deny it, are you?"

"I..." she began, then floundered, looking   away. That kiss. That scorching, passionate,   intense kiss...

She'd thought she was going to die! That they   were both going to be blown to smithereens -   incinerated - in a matter of minutes! It was   hardly surprising that she'd kissed him back,   was it? Given the circumstances, anything that   had taken her mind off her fate would have been   grabbed with both hands.

That was all it had been. A kiss borne of fear   and desperation. Nothing more.

Then she focused her gaze on Clark again. And   realised instantly that doing so had been a   mistake.

His brown eyes, the eyes she'd found so   compelling from the first moment she'd met   `Charlie King', gazed at her. They held   memories of passion and longing, of fiery   attraction. And she knew, looking at him, that   he'd kiss her again if she gave him even the   slightest encouragement.

And she wanted him to kiss her again.

No! This was *not* what they were there to   discuss!

What was this man doing to her? Hypnotising   her?

Was that it? Could it be that part of the   explanation for the incredible things he'd been   able to do was that he was skilled in hypnosis?   And now, was he trying to use his power to   persuade her to forget about what she knew   about him?

And just what other powers might he have? With   a sense of shock, it occurred to her that if   his abilities were based on psychic powers -   even though it still went against her nature to   believe that - then he might also be   telepathic.

Could he read her thoughts?

Was that how he knew that she was attracted to   him? And... if so... what else did he know   about her?

She wanted to sink through the floor in   humiliation.

She *had* to get back to the subject of what he   could do, and how!

"Clark..." she began weakly, but then dragged   her gaze from his compelling stare and found   her resolve. That was it. He'd clearly been   hypnotising her simply by keeping her gaze   focused on his. And making her remember their   kiss... making her want to repeat the   experience.

She *did* want to repeat the experience...

"Clark, stop this," she insisted, dragging up   the mental strength to keep her voice firm. "I   want to know how you did the things you did   tonight. How you got us out of that shed. And   how you escaped from the fire in Baines' office   unscathed. How you manage to move so quickly -   or fool people into thinking that. And why all   those lights blew out... and everything else."

********

Clark sighed deeply, resignedly. He'd tried   very hard to distract her from her chosen   course, behaving in a way which was totally   uncharacteristic for him; he'd expected at any   moment that Lois might slap his face or yell at   him for the way he was coming on to her.   Mentioning things he knew full well that she   wanted to forget. Behaving like a predator.

Obviously, he hadn't been very good at it. If   he had been, she wouldn't have reverted to the   reason he was here in her apartment in the   first place. He was dealing with Mad Dog Lane,   but still, it had to be possible. Of course,   someone better at playing those sort of games   than himself would no doubt have taken the   initiative even further, distracted her   thoroughly by kissing her again.

Not that he hadn't been tempted... but he   hadn't quite been able to find the nerve to do   it. And now, after all his efforts, they were   back on the subject of himself again. And what   he could do - what he had done.

She'd noticed an awful lot more than he'd   thought. His backup plan had been to try to   convince her that whatever she'd thought she'd   seen had been her imagination and no more. But   it was going to be darned difficult to persuade   her of that with so many questions in her mind.

There was nothing for it. He'd have to tell her   the truth, or at least some of it, and start   making his contingency plans.

"Okay, Lois. You want to know; I'll tell you,"   he said heavily.

"At last! It's telekinesis, it's it? And   hypnotism?"

"Huh?" Clark stared at her. "You're kidding!   No... I don't have any kind of... of psychic   powers. I'm not even sure anything like that   exists."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm not really sure how to explain it," he   said awkwardly. "I... you're the first person   I've even had to try to explain it to."

Lois hesitated, then said, "Let me make some   coffee. Then we can sit down, and *you* can   talk, buster!"

*********

Lois used the time it took her to make coffee   to regroup her thoughts and focus on the task   of getting information out of Clark Kent. That   was the way to do it, she told herself: treat   him like any other interview subject who had   something to hide, and where it was her job to   find out whatever it was they didn't want her   to know.

Well, no-one got the better of Lois Lane when   she was determined to get to the truth. Clark   Kent certainly wouldn't be an exception.

She laid the coffee-tray on the dining table;   it was best to keep this business-like, instead   of conducting the conversation on the sofa.   Clark, who had been gazing out of the window,   came to join her, surprising her by pulling out   a chair for her before sitting himself.

"Okay, so just what is it that you do? And how   do you do it?" Lois asked him, not giving him   time even to take a sip of his coffee. Take him   off guard, that was the tactic, she told   herself...

Clark cupped his palms around his mug, gazing   down at the dark liquid as if, Lois thought, it   might give him inspiration. Then, after the   silence had lengthened more than Lois was   comfortable with, he said quietly, "I have   these... abilities."

"Abilities?"

"Yeah." He fell silent again. Then, just as she   was about to prompt him again, he continued.   "Things I can do. That normal people can't."

"Such as?"

Clark shrugged. "Lots of things. Uh... well,   it's probably easier if I show you." He got up   and crossed into the lounge area, paused...

...and then suddenly he was holding one of her   sofas aloft in one hand.

Lois gasped. Even though she'd *known* that   there was something different - unusual, if not   unique - about Clark Kent, actually seeing   evidence of it was something else again.

"So... uh... you're strong," she said, as he   lowered her sofa back into place and stood   looking at her.

"Yeah," he confirmed. He sounded very nervous,   she thought.

"So, how do you do it?" she asked.

"How...? Uh... I just lift things," he said,   clearly confused.

"Yeah, but there's got to be a trick to it.   Like all illusions, once you know how it's   done, you're not fooled any more," Lois   commented scathingly.

Clark shook his head. "It's not an illusion,   Lois. I really am that strong."

Okay... Well, he did have a good muscle   structure. She had noticed that in passing. So   maybe he worked out a lot. But still...

"That doesn't explain anything you did   tonight," she pointed out.

Clark hesitated, then asked, "Have you got a   knife? I mean, an ordinary dinner knife? One   you don't mind losing?"

Lois shrugged and went into the kitchen, taking   an old knife from her drawer. As she brought it   to him, he paused before accepting it. "Try to   bend it," he instructed.

She did. It was a heavy knife, made of good-  quality stainless steel. She couldn't do a   thing to it.

Clark took it from her, exerted what looked   like very little pressure on the handle... and   it snapped in two. Lois took one of the halves   from it; it had very definitely broken, very   cleanly, and without any sign of twisting or   force.

He *was* strong. And that kind of strength   couldn't be gained from workouts, she was sure.   It was... well, the only word she could come up   with to describe it was superhuman.

"Okay... so what else can you do?" she asked, a   lot less breezily than when she'd started the   conversation.

"Remember the lights which kept burning out?"   he asked.

"Of course! But how on earth did you do that?"

Clark gestured towards his face. "With my   eyes."

"Huh?"

"I don't know how to explain it," he said. "But   I can look at things and make them... well,   burn."

"Show me," Lois said instantly. This was...   well, to say that it was incredible was putting   it mildly. A man who could set things on fire   by *looking* at them?

"Watch that newspaper over there," he   instructed, gesturing at a messed-up several   days' old copy of the Planet which lay on the   kitchen counter.

She did. And in under a second, a thin spiral   of smoke was eddying upwards. Followed by an   amber flicker.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "You... it... it's   on fire!"

"Yeah." He was walking over towards the paper   now. It looked to Lois as if he was blowing on   it; suddenly, the smoke and flame disappeared,   and in its place was blackened ash and   newsprint.

"That's how I do it. And if I do that to   something like a lightbulb, it will explode.   And that's how I sabotaged the security lights   earlier."

"And the desk-lamp in Baines' office?"

"Yes, that too. I didn't make it explode; I   just wanted to make the bulb burn out."

"And what about... I mean, you were in Baines'   office when it was on fire, and you came out   unhurt... how did you do that?"

He gave a slight shrug. "I'm invulnerable."

"You're... what?"

"Invulnerable. I can't be hurt, Lois," he   explained. "So the flames couldn't have harmed   me." He picked up the broken knife again and   handed it to her. "Stab me with it."

Shocked, she exclaimed, "I can't!"

"Yes, you can." He extended his arm towards   her. "Anywhere you want."

Torn between horror and a kind of fascination,   Lois raised the knife and then brought it down   sharply, aiming for Clark's palm.

The knife buckled, sending a jarring pain   through her arm.

"Sorry. I should have warned you about that,"   he said contritely as she dropped the remains   of the knife to the floor.

Lois took a sharp intake of breath. "So you   wouldn't have been hurt by the explosion?"

He shook his head. Lois gasped. "So much for me   thinking that you were being brave, staying   with me and not trying to run away! I thought   you were risking your life when you didn't need   to!"

Clark grimaced; probably because he'd been   found out, she thought cynically. But then he   said, "No, I wasn't risking my *life*, Lois,   but I was risking my safety, and that of my   family. I've always kept what I can do a secret   - and for good reason. But I knew that if I was   going to get you out of there, I'd have to use   my abilities - and that I probably wouldn't be   able to hide it. So I did make a sacrifice, and   as far as my parents' safety is concerned,   that's worth more than my life."

"Oh." Yes, that made a difference, she   supposed. And of course people would be   interested in a man who could do the things   that Clark Kent could. He'd be the story of a   lifetime, if anyone managed to prove it. And...   Lois shook her head slowly as more implications   of all of this slowly sank in. If Clark could   do all these things... just think what a   fantastic investigative reporter he could be!

He'd be more than competition for her... that   was alarming.

On the other hand, he'd make a great partner.   In fact, she already knew he made a great   partner, and not only because of what he'd been   able to do to help that evening.

She didn't know what she was going to do about   him yet. Friend or foe? Partner or competition?

And that was before she even thought about the   kiss!

But she didn't want to think about the kiss.   No. Not at all. She wasn't going to go there.   Better to get back to the topic at hand.

"And the chains?" she asked. "Your strength?"

"Yeah. I just had to tug and they..." He picked   up the broken half of the knife again, and   snapped the piece in two. "Snapped. Just like   that."

"How did we get out of the warehouse? You   couldn't possibly have got us to the other side   of the compound that quickly!" Lois objected.

Clark shook his head. "Yes, I could. I can move   very quickly when I want to. Watch."

And, suddenly, he disappeared.

One second, he was standing right in front of   her; a split second later, he'd vanished.

"I'm here." His voice came from behind her.

"Huh?" Lois spun around to look at him.   "What...? Teleportation or something like   that?"

"You watch way too much sci-fi on TV, Lois," he   told her dryly. "No, really, I just move very   quickly. That time, it was faster than the   human eye can see."

Stunned, she could only stare at him.

"This is unbelievable, Clark! I can barely take   it in! You can do all this stuff...?"

He simply nodded.

Lois reached behind her for a chair-back, then   leaned against it. "This is  amazing! Next you'll tell me you can fly," she   murmured, feeling stunned.

"Well, actually..." He trailed off, and her jaw   dropped as she saw that his feet had left the   floor.

Clark Kent was hovering several inches off the   floor in her living-room.

********

The look on Lois's face was almost worth all   the trauma he was putting himself through over   confessing to her. She hadn't believed anything   he'd been telling her about his abilities, he'd   seen that. Even when he'd demonstrated, she'd   convinced herself that it was all some sort of   illusion. She probably still imagined that he   was hypnotising her.

She probably still thought that now, despite   her slack-jawed expression!

"Come here, Lois," he instructed her. She came   closer.

"Feel under my feet," he told her. "There's   nothing there. I'm not standing on anything.   You're not imagining that there's just thin air   between me and the floor."

She did as he instructed, crouching on the   floor and exploring the area beneath him   thoroughly. "There's nothing," she confirmed.   "How are you doing this?"

"I really can fly," Clark assured her. "Let me   show you."

She was still looking disbelieving, but also   very unsure of her ground, as she got to her   feet and stared up at him. Clark drifted down   until his feet were touching solid ground, and   then he held out his hand to her. After a   hesitation, she accepted it. He drew her   closer, until she was standing in front of him.

"Put your arms around my neck," he said. She   did, and he took her waist between his hands,   holding her securely. Then he floated off the   floor again and `walked' on the air around   Lois's living-room. Just so that she could have   no doubts about what they were doing, he rose   upwards and floated over one of the sofas, and   then came to rest on top of her coffee-table,   allowing Lois to feel the solidity of the wood   beneath her feet, before he lifted her upwards   again.

"Now do you believe me?" he asked her, before   setting her down in the kitchen.

Her expression stunned, she nodded. "You really   can fly."

"Yes. And lots of other things too. I flew us   out of that shed, then ran the rest of the   way."

"That's incredible," she gasped, almost beneath   her breath. "But... how...?"

"That's what I don't know," Clark said, looking   away from her. Even after all this time, it   still bothered him more than he could explain   that he knew nothing about his origins, about   what made him so different from normal people.   He didn't even know if he was human!

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"Just that, Lois." He shook his head briefly,   then realised that he'd said enough to mean   that he couldn't get away with leaving it   there. Not given his interlocutor. "I was a   foundling. My parents found me, as a baby, in a   field near our home. In a... spaceship."

"A *spaceship*?" she repeated, disbelief in her   voice.

"That's what it looked like to them."

"You've never seen it?"

"Once," he admitted. "I was curious - it was   when I was about ten or so. My folks never made   any secret that I was adopted, and by the time   I was ten we already knew that I was... well,   different. I could run faster than all the   other kids. I was starting to hear things we   all knew I shouldn't be able to."

"*Hear* things?" Lois interrupted to ask. "You   mean... voices in your head or something like   that?"

Now she was back to thinking he was crazy! "No,   nothing like that. I mean that I can hear   things from a long way away. If I concentrate,   I'd be able to hear the conversation your   neighbours are having as they walk up to the   front door of your apartment building," he   added, giving her a wry look. "A man and a   woman, and they've both had too much to drink."

Lois's expression screamed disbelief - but then   the clearly-audible sound of the   front door, just along the hall, being unlocked   made her freeze. Two voices, one male, one   female, echoed along the silent hallway, the   sounds of people who were trying to be quiet   but were too drunk to realise the noise they   were making.

A few seconds later, a door slammed, and   silence again reigned.

Lois broke it. "So... you can hear things too."

"Yes. And I can see through objects. And see   from a long way away," he said, glancing around   looking for something he could `X-ray' in order   to prove it. After all, she'd demanded proof of   everything else.

But this time she didn't. "I'll take your word   for it," she said, still sounding overwhelmed.   "So... you said you saw your spaceship?"

"Yeah. Well, it was becoming very obvious that   I wasn't like other kids. So my parents told me   exactly how they'd found me, and Dad got the   spaceship - he'd kept it locked in - well, he   kept it locked away," Clark amended,   remembering that he certainly didn't need to   give away all the family secrets.

"What was it like?"

"Small," he said, remembering the vaguely egg-  shaped object. "Metallic. With a lid which   opened when I touched it - inside, it was lined   with dark blue fabric which felt like silk but   was much stronger. And warmer. And the outside   had some strange hieroglyphics on it. I   remember asking Mom and Dad if it could be   Russian - you know, Cyrillic script - but they   said it wasn't. They'd checked it out   themselves - they'd wondered if I could be a   Russian experiment. Anyway, it didn't look like   any form of writing they could identify, and   they'd got dozens of books on different   character types, even those from ancient   civilisations."

"So... your spaceship might not even be from   Earth?" Clark glanced sharply at Lois; she   looked as if she couldn't believe she was even   saying the words.

"That's possible, I guess. I mean," Clark   added, "if humans were travelling through   space, if we landed on the moon in 1969, what's   to say that other civilisations couldn't have   mastered space travel too?"

"Yeah... I suppose," Lois said, still sounding   as if she was struggling to accept everything.   "It'd even have been around the same time,   wouldn't it?"

"1966," he said. "Not that long before. But -   assuming that there is intelligent life on some   other planet out there - there's no reason to   suggest that they'd have to be at the same   stage of technological development as the   Earth. I mean, if they were able to send an   unmanned craft to another planet, and equip it   with the means necessary to transport a   baby..."

"So you really think you're from another   planet?" Lois asked.

Clark shook his head. "I don't know what to   think. I don't know what I am. I don't think   I'm human, but I just don't know. And I have no   idea how I can find out."

**********

Part 13

This had to be a dream. Lois stood facing   Clark, wondering whether she could   surreptitiously pinch herself. After all, she   couldn't really be in the kitchen of her   apartment at after four in the morning,   listening to a work colleague tell her that he   might be from another planet. He hadn't really   flown her around her apartment, had he?

No, of course he hadn't. It was impossible. It   was contrary to all the laws of physics. Humans   couldn't fly under their own steam.

But he'd said he didn't think he was human...

No. It wasn't possible. Aliens from outer   space? Next he'd be telling her that Mork was   his first cousin!

And yet it was real. At least, unless she was   dreaming that pinch too.

"I... just can't take this in," she said,   castigating herself for sounding weak. "I mean,   what you can do... it's just not possible! It's   against all the laws of physics!"

"You think I haven't told myself that all my   life, Lois?" Clark asked her. "Look, if you   need more demonstrations, I can give them - but   I've answered your questions. You wanted to   know how I got us out of there; well, I told   you. What more do you want?"

He sounded frustrated, and his words reminded   Lois that he hadn't wanted to explain anything   in the first place. She'd been the one to   refuse to accept his evasions and attempts to   change the subject. So it was hardly as if he   was boasting, trying to make her believe things   which were simply ridiculous.

So, if she wasn't dreaming, and he wasn't lying   to her, and he wasn't hypnotising her...

... then he must be telling the truth.

Clark Kent really possessed amazing abilities   which no-one else on Earth had. He could fly.   And he really could be from another planet.

********

Clark turned away from Lois, frustrated as much   with himself as with her. Why was he trying so   hard to convince a woman who didn't want to   believe him? Wasn't it actually preferable that   she didn't believe what he was telling her?

If she didn't believe him, then surely he was   safe? As were his parents. He wouldn't have to   leave Metropolis just as he'd got his dream   job. He should be encouraging her in her   disbelief, shouldn't he, instead of doing his   best to prove it all to her!

<Idiot!> he told himself.

But it wasn't too late to retrieve the   situation - maybe. Chances were she wouldn't   believe him, but it was worth a try...

Assuming a defeated expression, he said, "All   right, Lois, I give in. You're right. I'm   making it all up. I've been taking advantage of   the fact that you're dead on your feet to   convince you that you're seeing me do things   that I'm not."

She gave him an astounded look. Then she picked   up the broken knife again and walked straight   over to him. "Am I imagining things now? Are   you hypnotising me?" she demanded, thrusting   the broken edge of the knife against his chest.

It fell to the floor with a clatter, and Lois   winced and held her hand protectively.

Clark stared at the knife, then slowly looked   at Lois as he admitted to himself that he'd   failed. Or maybe he'd just been being   sarcastic. Somehow, he wasn't really sure what   he'd been trying to do. Had he really believed   that he could convince her that he'd been   lying? He knew better than that. Didn't he?

"Well?" she said, raising one eyebrow. "Still   going to tell me that you made it all up?"

"I guess not," he said heavily. This was it.   After all those years of hiding, of making sure   that no-one ever found out the truth, the game   was finally up. "Look, just give me a few days,   okay?"

"Huh?" Confusion writ on her face, she frowned   at him.

"Just a few days, that's all. I need to make   sure that my parents are safe. And then you can   do whatever you want - not that you can do much   without proof, unless you were taping me, and I   don't think you were." That was one relief, he   thought. At least he wouldn't be plastered all   over the front page of the Daily Planet; not   without further proof, which he had no   intention of allowing Lois to get.

"Clark, I haven't the faintest clue of what   you're talking about!" Lois said impatiently.   "Do you mind starting again?"

"Before you write your story," he explained   frustratedly. "I know you need proof and I   don't think you have that, but still - I don't   want my parents' lives destroyed, Lois! It   doesn't matter about me. I mean, I've always   expected it anyway, and it's not as if I   haven't moved on before when someone found out   too much about me, but -"

Lois cut across him. "Clark, don't be -"

The telephone rang.

********

"Who the heck is calling me at this time of   night?" Lois muttered impatiently. She really   hadn't wanted to be interrupted right then! But   it was probably important, she realised   quickly, crossing to answer the insistent   ringing before her neighbours started banging   on the walls. Not that this - dealing with   Clark and his amazing powers, plus his   conviction that she was going to expose him -   wasn't also important!

"Lois Lane," she announced brusquely.

"Lane, it's Henderson."

Clark mumbled something from behind her, his   words indistinct given that she was trying to   focus on her caller. "Not now, Clark! Wait a   minute!" she said quickly, then spoke into the   receiver. "What you got, Henderson?"

"Baines' burned-out car was found a couple of   hours ago," he said tersely. "We assume the   corpse inside is her, but we won't know for   sure until forensics and the medical examiner   have done their bit."

"Wait - a couple of hours ago? A couple of   hours ago I was talking to you at the Planet!"   Lois protested.

"I know, but I'm not omniscient, much as I   might like to be," Henderson replied dryly.   "The car had been found, but since the licence   plate was half-burned, there wasn't much to   tell anyone whose car it was. It's only in the   last twenty minutes that we made the   connection. And I called you. Like I said I   would. So can I get back to doing my job now?"

The sound of her apartment door closing made   Lois whirl around. Clark was gone.

Her first instinct was to throw down the phone   and run after him. She needed to talk to him -   he really seemed to believe that she intended   to tell the whole world about what he could do.

But... did she?

It would make a great story, assuming that she   could prove it. She'd already acknowledged   that. But he was right: it would ruin his life.   And his parents'. And anyway... it was slowly   dawning on her that there might be advantages   in *not* having it known.

Henderson's voice in her ear reminded her that   she really didn't have time to think about   Clark right now. "Lane? You still there? Do I   have your permission to get back to doing   important things?" he was drawling   sardonically.

"No! Wait, Bill," she said quickly. "What   caused the fire?" Highly coincidental - or   ironic - that there should be three fires in   the one night, all associated with Baines... or   should that be Luthor? she thought.

"Too soon to say," he said. "But put it this   way: if the forensic guys say something was   planted in the car, there's a bet I'm going to   win."

Just what she'd thought herself. "And what   about Luthor?"

"Nothing. No-one's reported any sightings or   suspicious movements. But every unit in the   state is looking for him, and the FBI's getting   on it as well. He won't get away."

Yeah, sure, Lois thought. She'd met wealthy   criminals like Luthor before; they were the   sort who believed themselves to be untouchable,   and frequently they were. It was sheer luck   that they'd been able to identify Luthor and   prove that he was involved in the Messenger   sabotage; he'd only been there, against his   better judgement, because Baines had persuaded   him. And he no doubt believed that he'd   eliminated all witnesses.

Luthor would have had all his escape routes set   up long ago, and a whole raft of contingency   plans would be in place to ensure that, after   his departure, a range of subordinates would be   implicated in criminal acts - acts which would,   of course, have been perpetrated or ordered by   Luthor himself, but the subordinates would take   the fall.  And Luthor himself would be safely   away in some tropical island without an   extradition treaty with the US.

Well, not if she had anything to do with it!

She ended the call, then stood staring   unseeingly out the window of her apartment.   Dawn was breaking, but she was only barely   conscious of it. She and Clark needed to track   Luthor down.

Which reminded her... she had to find Clark.   Right now!

Before he did anything stupid...

********

Clark paced the length of his small bedroom at   the Apollo Hotel, then returned to the window,   staring out at the grey dawn. There was a faint   hint of gold on the horizon, but he averted his   gaze from it. His mood was bleak; he didn't   want the cheering light of the sun breaking in   on it.

He had to leave. That was clear - and the   sooner the better, too. Lois had given him no   promises; in fact, she hadn't even answered   when he'd pleaded with her for time. So he had   no choice. He had to pack up his things - not   that that would take more than a few seconds   anyway - and leave Metropolis.

He'd have to go to Smallville first, to talk to   his parents; let them know that there was a   possibility - no, more than a possibility -   that his secret was out. Not that he had any   idea of what he was going to advise them to do.   Although they should be safe enough; all they   had to do was deny all knowledge of his   whereabouts. They might have reporters staking   out the farm for a few weeks, but the press   would give up once they realised that there was   no sign of their prey.

Why had he done it? What on earth had possessed   him to tell Lois Lane everything about himself?   He'd played right into her hands. He'd stood   there and actually demonstrated what he could   do! If she'd had a camera, or her tape-  recorder, he'd already be front-page news.

Oh, he'd tried to avoid telling her. But she'd   been too persistent and, in the end, too   perceptive. And he'd got carried away by some   sort of crazy desire to overcome her   scepticism, and even a ludicrous attempt to   impress her. Impress her? What had he thought   he was doing?

She genuinely deserved her reputation as the   best investigative reporter around, he   accepted. She'd managed to draw him out, and by   her alternately sceptical and sympathetic   manner she'd got him to confess things he'd   sworn never to tell anyone. And, as a result,   his parents were at risk, and he was having to   sacrifice the life he'd been beginning to build   for himself here in Metropolis.

All because he hadn't been able to resist the   guile of a beautiful woman.

Clark sighed again, finally conceding that he   had to be honest with himself. He hadn't had to   tell her. There were lots of other things he   could have said, other explanations he could   have made up. Or he could have persisted in his   attempt to distract her. But he'd panicked,   somehow ending up believing that he had no   escape... and he'd told her everything.

And now, he was facing the need to run away yet   again - but this time, his parents were also   under threat.

Why hadn't he thought of that before opening   his big mouth?

Sighing, Clark turned away from the window and   contemplated the task of packing his belongings   again.

And then he heard a knock on the outer door.

He briefly considered ignoring it. Then,   conscious that it could be one of the hotel   staff - after all, who else would be up and   about at five in the morning? - he headed to   the door.

Lois stood there.

He stared at her, at first unable to think of   any reason why she should have followed him.   Then it struck him. He beckoned her in, closing   the door behind her, then turned to her.

"Didn't you get enough information? You want   more true confessions?" he threw at her,   bitterness in his tone as the acid taste of   resentment flooded his throat.

She gave him a glare. "What are you talking   about?"

"I asked you to give me time. Just a couple of   days; that's all I asked for!" he said curtly.   "And you couldn't even agree to that. And now   you're here again - looking for more? What do   you want this time? A signed confession?"

"Why are you so convinced that I want to tell   the whole world about what you can do?" Lois   retorted, her indignation cutting across his   anger.

But of course she was! Why would she do   anything else?

Taken aback, he frowned at her. "You're an   award-winning reporter, Lois. You never let a   story slip through your fingers. I can't   believe you'd ignore this - me."

Lois began to pace, an activity which, Clark   realised, made him nervous. "First, as you said   a couple of times, Clark, I have no proof. And   can you imagine how I'd look walking into   Perry's office and telling him that I have this   amazing story about a man who can fly and can   put out fires with his breath - and that I have   no evidence at all except what he told me?   Perry would have me certified!" She paused   briefly for breath before continuing. "And   second, has it occurred to you that, even if I   could get proof, I might have good reasons for   *not* writing about you?"

"Such as?" he challenged her. Why would Lois   Lane give up the chance of what he knew,   without any egotism, would be a major story, as   long as she could prove it?

He sensed her trying to rein in her temper, but   refused to let that affect him. He was bitter   with resentment, and he had every right to be.   She'd made him tell her things he shouldn't   have told anyone, and by doing so she'd put   everything he held of value in danger. But when   Lois spoke, she took him aback with her words.

"You're very confident with all the things you   can do, Clark. So I guess you've been using   your abilities a lot over the years?"

"What's this? An interview? You didn't get   enough information earlier?" His lip curled   sardonically, and he moved closer to Lois,   knowing that he would be intimidating her by   his physical size and presence.

"I could shake you, Clark Kent!" Lois   exclaimed, apparently unmoved. "What do I have   to do to get it into your thick head that I   *don't* intend to blazon you across the front   page of the Daily Planet?"

Clark blinked. "You don't?"

She didn't? He couldn't believe that. Could he?   There was just no way that someone of Lois   Lane's reputation would throw up a story like   this one. She couldn't possibly be serious.   Could she?

"That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

"Oh!" The indignation in her expression   convinced him at last. Surprised, embarrassed,   he took a step backwards. "Then... what were   you talking about?"

"Just answer my question, okay?" she demanded.

"Okay." He had no idea what she was up to, but   after his accusations he thought he owed her a   straight answer. "Yes. I... I try to help. I   mean, if someone's in trouble and I can save   them, I do it. I can't leave people hurt, maybe   even dying, when there's something I can do.   And that's why I've had to move around so much;   I get careless, and someone gets suspicious."

"Mmm-hmmm." Clark got the impression that he'd   simply confirmed what Lois had already guessed.

"So... why did you ask?"

"Because it struck me that we could achieve two   things here, if we think hard enough about it,"   Lois said calmly. "One, you can help people,   but do it openly - no hiding, no being afraid   of being discovered - and two, we get a   terrific exclusive, a guaranteed front-page   story."

Clark stared at her. "You're kidding! Let   everyone know what I can do...? No-one I know   would ever be safe!"

"No, not if it's you, Clark Kent, doing   things," Lois answered casually. "But the   beauty of my idea is - it wouldn't be you."

*********

The idea had come to her on the way over to the   Apollo Hotel. She'd first of all been fixated   on the need to convince Clark that she wasn't   going to turn him into Freak of the Week, but   at the same time she'd been thinking about Lex   Luthor and her worry that he'd escape   detection. And it had occurred to her that,   with Clark's abilities, he might well be able   to track Luthor down.

And, come to that, there was a lot more he   could be doing - and probably had already been   trying to do, undetected, for a very long time.   She was sure of that; it meshed with his   character, or what of it she'd learned over the   past week or so.

Clark Kent was a congenital `helper'. He   couldn't see someone in trouble and not try to   lend a hand. He'd done that only that morning -   well, yesterday morning now, she admitted -   when he'd seen her looking upset and defeated.   He'd asked her what was wrong, and had then   offered to help, with no personal agenda   involved. He'd been genuinely affected by   Samuel Platt's fate and the situation Platt's   family was in. And, of course, he'd shown more   concern than was sensible for a kid he'd   thought was a car-thief.

Yes, Clark would always want to help people   where he could, and she could easily believe   that he'd been using his abilities in secret   over the years, and it fitted in well with a   comment he'd made a few days earlier about   having moved around a lot. He'd have done   something - been a little indiscreet in the use   of his abilities - and that would have been it.   Someone would have come close to knowing that   Clark Kent was `different'. And so he'd had to   move on.

In fact, she even remembered some reports from   the news agencies about inexplicable events in   remote or faraway corners of the world: stories   about a man who could move faster than the   human eye could see, a bird who could talk and   carry people, someone with superhuman strength.   Those reports had all been dismissed by the   world's media as fantasy, the products of   superstition or overactive imaginations.

But they weren't, she now realised. They'd all   been Clark Kent, doing what he could to help.   He'd saved lives, alleviated the worst of   natural disasters, prevented catastrophes from   occurring. And he'd done it all in secret,   hiding what he could do from the people around   him, and running away when someone got too   close to the truth. He had a compulsion to   help, to use his abilities for good.

That being so, what if there was a way for him   to carry on doing it, but without having to   risk detection?

And that had led her to the idea she was   bursting to put to him - well, had been, until   he'd accused her of planning to ruin his life   by exposing him. She hadn't been best pleased   about that. So, instead, she'd proceeded by   being mysterious. And had felt rewarded by his   bemused, appalled stare.

But then, she reasoned in respect of his   suspicion of her, she would have felt exactly   the same way. After all, how could he possibly   know that he could trust her? They'd known each   other a little over a week, that was all. And   she hadn't believed that she could trust him   not to abandon her to her fate earlier, at the   EPRAD complex. They had a lot to learn about   each other, she reminded herself. So she should   cut him some slack and tell him about her idea.

Then she caught herself sharply. A lot to learn   about each other... why, exactly? He was a   colleague. Maybe a partner, if her plan came to   fruition; apart from the fact that she'd prefer   that he was working with her and not in   competition now that she knew how good he was,   the potential offered by the combination of his   abilities and her talent would make them an   unbeatable reporting team. Plus, he was the   only reporter she'd ever been able to stand   working with.

Since Claude, anyway.

But there was no need for her to get to know   Clark Kent better for any other reason.

Her gaze fell to his lips, and she forced   herself to look away again.

So he was a good kisser - so what? She didn't   *want* to remember those kisses, nor what had   preceded them. She'd humiliated herself   completely with all she'd said, and if there   was some way in which she could erase the   memory of that entire conversation from Clark's   brain, she would have done it.

Though now, of course, she had the perfect   blackmail material... She wouldn't mention his   secret if he kept his mouth shut about what   she'd said.

<Should have thought of that before you blurted   out to him that you wouldn't tell anyone about   what he could do!> her inner voice pointed out   tartly.

"Lois?" Clark's worried, impatient voice broke   in on her musings. "What do you mean - it   wouldn't be me?"

"Just that," she said, gaining a sense of   pleasure - or revenge for his accusations? -   from delaying her explanation. "Clark, have you   ever thought of using some sort of disguise?"

********

A disguise.

Doing things - using his powers to help people   - wearing a disguise.

No-one would know that it was him - that it was   Clark Kent.

He could use his powers as much as he wanted;   help all those people whose cries he heard but   was simply unable to assist without discovery.   That car on the bridge the previous afternoon;   it had crashed through the safety barrier and   was left hanging, front wheels off the road,   tilting dangerously. It had taken the emergency   services two hours to get it safely back onto   the bridge; the occupants had been inside for   most of that time, as it had been too dangerous   to attempt to evacuate them. Clark knew that he   would have been able to rescue them in seconds.

Or the young woman with her little girl who'd   been so badly injured when their home had been   wrecked in an explosion; he could have got them   out and flown them to the hospital; the child's   mother might even have lived.

Yes; if he could use his powers openly, there   was so much he could do...

"What sort of disguise?" he asked slowly,   thoughtfully.

Lois didn't answer immediately; she began   pacing around the small kitchenette, an   expression of concentration on her face. As it   was a small room, she had made several circuits   before she finally spoke.

"How about a mask? Or a hood?"

Clark hesitated. It sounded attractive; no-one   would see his face, and therefore he wouldn't   be recognised. "I'm not sure that I'd be able   to see properly. At least, not without using my   vision abilities all the time, and I don't like   doing that." In case he saw something he   shouldn't, or didn't want to - but he had no   intention of telling Lois that.

"Yeah, true. And anyway," she added, "I'm not   sure that would work. If I saw someone wearing   a mask or a hood, I'd want to know who was   under it."

"Yes, and I'd assume that they had something to   hide," Clark added.

"Yeah. We can't have people thinking that,"   Lois agreed.

Since when had this become `we'? Clark   wondered. Still, if it meant that Lois was   willing to help him, then he should take   advantage of it. After all, having one of the   best reporters in the country on *his* side   should only help when it came to avoiding   pursuit from other reporters.

"Okay, so what other kind of disguise would   work?" he asked, thinking aloud. "It has to be   something which makes me look different, but   won't make people try to find out who I am."

Lois paced the length of the small room again,   pausing as she reached the end. "So... maybe   not a disguise exactly, but a..." She trailed   off, then spun on her heel suddenly and faced   him.

"I've got it!"

"What?" he asked.

She answered by throwing another question at   him. "Who do we see every day of the week, and   yet we wouldn't recognise them if we saw them   dressed differently?"

"Huh?"

"What about uniformed cops, the security guards   at the Planet, firefighters, nurses... do   people recognise them out of their uniform or   out of context?"

Clark considered her words. He did normally   tend to recognise people out of context, but   he'd long known that he had a very good memory.   Lois was right: most people never actually   looked at the faces of officials they dealt   with. They concentrated on the uniforms and the   position the officials occupied.

"So... you think that some sort of uniform   would help...?"

"Yeah, I think a uniform is exactly what you   need," she said, looking at him assessingly.   "And if you can lose the glasses when you wear   it..."

"That's not a problem," Clark admitted. "I only   wear them to remind me not to use my vision   powers accidentally. So if I wear them as   myself and take them off when I put on the   disguise, that would help to make me look   different, I guess."

"Very," Lois agreed. "I couldn't believe,   earlier, just how different you looked without   your glasses. It's just as well you'd put them   back on before we went back to the Planet. And   your hair, and the clothes you were wearing...   I might have had a hard time recognising you if   I passed you in the street."

Surprised, Clark stared at her. "I looked that   different?"

"Yes - and, believe me, I notice these things.   It would work... especially if you could act   differently too - I don't know, maybe more   formally? Be distant with people? That would   stop them asking too many questions, as well as   making you seem even less like Clark Kent."

Hiding in plain sight - that was what Lois was   suggesting. And she really made it sound as if   it could work, too. It was very tempting - too   tempting to resist.

"I think I know where I can get this... uniform   you're suggesting," he said thoughtfully.

"You do?"

"Yeah." A broad smile creased his face. "You   want to come with me? I mean, maybe you'd have   some more great ideas like this one."

Lois grinned. "Just try and stop me! But first,   we have something more important to do."

********

Part 14

We.

For Lois, the use of the plural pronoun felt   very strange indeed. She wasn't used to working   with someone else - a partner. And yet, with   Clark Kent it was already beginning to feel   right. Natural.

They weren't partners! she reminded herself   hurriedly. She'd just asked for him to work   with her that night because of the EPRAD   investigation, and their outstanding task   related to that story. That was all.

And yet... She'd already recognised, earlier,   that he would make a great partner. He was a   good reporter, and she could stand him far   better than anyone else she'd ever had to work   with. He didn't get on her nerves anything like   as bad as some of the morons Perry had assigned   to work with her. He was intelligent, quick-  thinking and could even make suggestions which   hadn't occurred to her. And he was definitely a   cool head in a crisis.

He could save her life in a crisis.

And he was right. What he'd said to her earlier   - and she hadn't paid much attention to - had   been very true. He'd saved her life at the risk   of his secret. He might not have been at risk   of being killed, but he had risked exposure:   the destruction of his life and all that he   held dear, the damage which such exposure would   have done to his parents.

He'd risked all that to save her life.

And, she realised with a sudden jolt, he hadn't   *had* to. He could have protected his secret   and been perfectly safe. All he'd had to do was   wait until the bomb went off, and then he could   just have quietly made his escape unharmed. Of   course, she would have been dead, but Clark's   secret would have been safe. He might have had   to move on afterwards, though even that wasn't   a foregone conclusion; Lex Luthor hadn't known   who he was.

Instead, he'd rescued her, knowing that she   would very probably realise that there was   something very different about him.

If she still had any question in her mind as to   whether she could trust Clark Kent, that fact   would give her the answer she needed.

"Lois?" Her musings were interrupted by Clark   calling her name; and by the sound of his tone,   it wasn't for the first time.

"Sorry. I was just thinking... Anyway," she   added quickly, "We need to find Lex Luthor."

"Huh?"

"Oh! Of course, you don't know," she said,   remembering that he'd left as she'd been   speaking to Henderson. Briefly, she filled him   in on the phone conversation.

"So Luthor's still out there, and we need to   find him," she finished.

"I see." Clark's expression had turned grim   during her summary, and now he ran his hand   through his hair in agitation. "So yet another   murder chalked up to Luthor's account?"

"It looks like it," Lois agreed. "But it's not   as if Baines was a saint, after all. Remember,   she was implicated up to her neck in the   Messenger sabotage!"

"I know," Clark agreed, but his tone was heavy.   "That still doesn't mean that she deserved to   die. Sure, she deserved to go to jail, but   that's different. That way the full facts about   what happened would have come out properly too,   and the victims' families might have got a   sense of closure."

"They still can, if we catch Luthor," Lois   pointed out.

"And he has to be caught," Clark added grimly.   "I should have thought about this before."   Sounding angry with himself, he continued,   "There I was, getting ready to leave   Metropolis, and I never even thought about the   danger to you."

Lois frowned. "Danger?"

"Yes! Sooner or later, Luthor's going to   realise that Dr Baines' little explosion didn't   kill us after all. And he's going to come after   you - or, more likely, send one of his henchmen   after you. Your life isn't going to be safe   until he's in custody, Lois - and maybe not   even after that, if his minions are still loyal   to him."

That was something she hadn't thought about,   and yet of course it was true. As soon as the   Planet hit the streets, which would be in about   - she checked her watch - an hour for the first   edition, Luthor would know that she and Clark   were alive. Well, that she was alive; as far as   she knew, he'd never actually found out Clark's   identity.

So Clark was right: her life would be in   danger. She was surprised that Perry or   Henderson hadn't insisted that she go into   hiding - but then she remembered that Perry had   insisted that she and Clark needed to take the   morning off, and Henderson had at that point   muttered something about her needing to stay   put so he'd know where she'd be. So it probably   was taken care of.

"So that makes it even more important that we   find him," she said resolutely.

"I agree. But what makes you think we can   succeed where the police can't?"

"You!" Lois retorted, gesturing at him. "Think   about it, Clark - we have an advantage no-one   else has here. How many other men do you know   who can fly? Or who can see or hear things at   long distances, and who can see *through*   things? Don't you think that with that sort of   advantage we could find Luthor?"

A flash of a grin appeared on Clark's face. "I   guess that's true. And I should have guessed   that you'd find a way to turn what I can do to   advantage!"

"So?" she prompted. "Are we going?"

In response, he came over to her and extended   his arms. "Can I offer you a ride, ma'am?"

With a silent `Wow!', Lois allowed Clark to   lift her and hold her against his chest. Then,   wrapping her arms around his neck, she braced   herself for what she was sure would be the ride   of a lifetime.

********

"I'll have to fly high," Clark said as he   stepped up onto the sill with Lois in his arms.   "It's getting too light to stay low - I can't   risk being seen."

"Will you be able to see clearly enough?" Lois   asked anxiously.

"Oh, sure. My eyesight's pretty good too," he   told her with a self-depracating smile. "So,   where do you suggest we start?"

"LexCorp," she said immediately. "I know the   police have already searched there, but you   might find something they missed. With one of   those extra abilities of yours, I mean."

If there was anything to find, he probably   could find it, Clark acknowledged. What really   surprised him, though, was Lois's matter-of-  fact acceptance of what he could do. Oh, she'd   been amazed back in her apartment, clearly   finding it hard to take everything in. But now,   although there was some remaining fascination,   her attitude seemed focused entirely on what he   could do to help their investigation. On how he   could be useful to her.

Well, almost entirely. He had a sneaking   suspicion that she was excited about the   prospect of flying with him; of flying without   the aid of any mechanical or electronic   propulsion aids. The possibility of being held   up only by someone else's arms and that   person's abilities of free flight.

He had to admit that he was looking forward to   flying with Lois too. Until this moment, the   only people he'd ever taken flying had been his   parents. And, while it was certainly nice to be   able to share his abilities with them, it was   hardly the same thing as flying with an   attractive woman.

An attractive woman he was *attracted* to.

Though he'd have to put that out of his mind   for the time being. Apart from the   embarrassment he'd suffer if Lois realised,   they had a job to do. And this was, after all,   the first time he'd been using his abilities in   front of someone else in order to do a job.   He'd feel as if he was on display; under   inspection, in fact.

Lois was looking at him expectantly, waiting   for him to make a move. And, yes, there was   very definitely an excited gleam in her eyes,   and her hands were gripping his shoulders   tightly. Not with fear; with anticipation.   Exhilaration, maybe.

He could think of other women who would have   been scared stiff at the very idea of flying   like this, with no visible means of protection;   having to place absolute and complete trust in   the man holding them. But not Lois Lane. He   already knew that she had nerves of steel and a   very high threshold for danger - although he   also knew that she wasn't entirely careless   when it came to the prospect of her own death.   She'd cared very much, earlier that evening,   about the knowledge that she might die.

But still, being Lois Lane, her main focus   would be on her work: getting the story. And,   as such, his sole usefulness to her lay in how   he could help her to do that.

Not that he objected, especially. In fact, it   was a real novelty to have someone view his   abilities as something useful, instead of   something he needed to hide. It wasn't that his   parents weren't sympathetic to his desire to   use what he could do to help; they were. But at   the same time they were terrified that one day   he'd go too far and be caught, exposed. So they   continually urged him to be careful, not to   take risks, to behave as normally as he could.

It wasn't just that people might want to use   him for experimentation - which was certainly a   risk. It was also that they'd seen too many   instances, both in the US and elsewhere, of how   society reacted to people who were in any way   different. Different in appearance, accent,   behaviour, lifestyle or a myriad other ways;   those people faced misunderstanding, resentment   and even outright hostility.

But now, Lois Lane knew what he could do, and   she didn't think he was weird. She hadn't run   screaming in the opposite direction because he   might be from another planet. She - so far -   had accepted him as he was. And she'd even come   up with an idea to allow him to use his   abilities for good in a way which would keep   his own identity secret.

The only question was: would the rest of the   world - or at least Metropolis - accept him in   his disguise? That remained to be seen.

For now, he had to concentrate on finding Lex   Luthor - and giving Lois Lane the flight of her   lifetime.

He took a step forward and jumped off the   windowsill.

********

Wow.

There was no other word for it.

Flying in Clark Kent's arms was the most   amazing experience of her life.

She'd flown in small craft before, as well as   in large jet planes. Helicopters, single-engine   planes, even a hang-glider. But this put all of   those in the shade.

Clark held her close against his chest, and she   had her arms looped around his neck, of course.   The wind rushed past them but, to Lois's   surprise, she barely felt it. Her hair blew   about, but otherwise she barely even noticed   the chill. Instead, she focused on the ground   falling steeply away from them as Clark climbed   until they were somewhere around cloud level.

"This is fantastic!" she exclaimed after a   while.

"You're okay?" he asked, sounding a little   concerned. "Not too cold - no problems with the   speed I'm flying?"

"I don't understand it - but I'm fine. I don't   even feel cold," she assured him.

"That's something I've noticed," he said   thoughtfully. "If I'm holding something - or   someone - close to me, they don't seem to get   harmed by things that might hurt them normally.   It might sound weird, but it's as if I have   some sort of... well, an aura which protects   them."

Yes, it did sound weird, but it could be   possible, Lois thought. After all, this man was   already breaking so many laws of physics she'd   lost count. Why couldn't one more rule be   discarded where he was concerned?

"Clark?" she said after a few moments.

"Yeah?" He glanced at her briefly, then resumed   his careful scanning of the city below.

"I just want you to know - I'm going to bug you   to take me flying at least once a week."

He dropped a few feet suddenly, before resuming   his previous height; the movement felt almost   like turbulence in aeroplanes. "Really? You   like it that much?"

"Sure! It's an incredible experience!"

"I've always thought so," he agreed. "And I   think my parents like it. But... well, I guess   I kind of expected other people to be scared of   me - of what I can do. I mean, I'm not   *normal*."

That made Lois pause. So he didn't only hide   what he could do because it might put him, or   his parents, in danger; he hid because he   believed himself to be some sort of freak. It   fitted, she thought; after all, he'd been   anxious when he'd told her that he suspected he   might be from another planet.

He expected to be treated as a freak.

"What's normal?" she said, deliberately casual,   not wanting him to think that she was feeling   sorry for him. "I mean, look at Ralph - can you   honestly describe him as `normal'?"

A bark of laughter answered her. "I guess   that's a fair point! Okay," he added, "that's   the LexCorp building below. He has a penthouse   apartment there, doesn't he?"

"Yes, he does..." Lois trailed off as a thought   occurred to her. A thought which should   probably have occurred to her a few hours ago.

"Clark," she said urgently.

"Yes?" He paused in mid-air, and the sudden   stillness took her by surprise. It felt as if   they were suspended, unmoving, from a cloud,   with the whole of the city laid out, still,   beneath them. It was beautiful; awe-inspiring.

Breathtaking.

But she didn't have time to focus on that now.   There were more urgent matters needing   attention.

"I just thought... We're all assuming that   Luthor's getting away. Escaping. But what if he   isn't?"

"Huh?" Clark sounded confused.

"Think about it," she said impatiently. "As far   as he knows, we're dead and so is Baines. So   who knows about his involvement in the   Messenger sabotage? What witnesses are there to   what happened tonight?"

"None," Clark replied slowly, and Lois could   tell that he'd caught her meaning and was   thinking through the implications, just as she   was. "So he could be right under everyone's   nose, oblivious to the manhunt that's going on   for him?"

"It's possible," Lois said. "It's not even six   in the morning. And Henderson didn't say that   the police had searched Luthor's homes. All he   said was that they were in the process of   getting warrants, and that Luthor's staff were   unhelpful."

"So... what if Luthor is safely asleep in his   own bed and has been all along?" Clark   completed her train of thought. He sounded   unconvinced, though, and explained his tone by   adding, "But surely his staff would have   wakened him to tell him that the police were   looking for him? Especially if they had   warrants."

"Maybe... but maybe not," Lois answered. "What   if he gave them instructions not to disturb him   once he's gone to bed? Would anyone wake him   then?"

"If they thought it was important enough, I'd   think so," Clark replied. "But, you know, there   is one easy way to find out," he added, and as   she looked up at him she could see that he was   grinning.

Of course, there was...

"So, what's keeping you?" she demanded.

Soft laughter accompanied their sudden dive   downwards through the wispy clouds.

*********

Clark had no idea whether Lois was likely to be   right. It seemed improbable that the man   everyone was looking for could possibly be just   asleep in his bed. But since it would hardly   involve any effort on his part to find out, it   was worth a try.

Dipping down, but being careful to use any   cover offered and not to go so low as to be   seen, Clark scanned the LexCorp building. The   tallest in Metopolis, he noted; even taller   than the LNN Tower which, he knew, had held   that record for several years. He was grateful   for the building's height, of course, since it   meant a far lower risk of being seen.

That was obviously the study; this the dining   room. And next to that was what looked like a   sumptuous lounge. Then another reception room,   and another... and then, finally, what looked   like a suite containing a bedroom.

Clark focused his vision, looking closer.   And... yes... it looked as if there was a   figure in the bed in that darkened bedroom.   Dark hair - yes, it was wavy. And the shape, so   far as he could make it out under the covers,   seemed to fit Lex Luthor.

"I think he's there," he murmured.

"Huh? Clark!" He felt something poking at his   side; looking down, remembering at the last   second to disengage his vision abilities, he   realised that Lois was trying to attract his   attention, using her index finger between his   ribs.

"Lois?"

"What did you say? What did you *see*?" she   demanded impatiently.

"There's someone there. And I think it's   Luthor," he told her, unable to prevent the   excitement from creeping into his tone.

"You're not sure?" She sounded disappointed,   almost critical.

"I can't quite tell - the room's dark, and he's   pretty much buried under the covers," Clark   defended himself by protesting.

"Well, look harder!" Lois ordered. Then,   seemingly realising how that sounded, she   amended. "Try. Please? This is important!"

"I know. And I will try."

He looked again, focusing more closely this   time, straining his eyes to see clearly in the   dark bedroom. And he thought he could just make   out the familiar features of Lex Luthor -

- and then suddenly the bed's occupant turned   over, rolling onto his back with a grunt and   lying prone with his arms thrown to his sides.   Clark realised that he must have been augmented   his hearing abilities as well; in addition to   the grunt, he could now hear snoring. Loud,   snorting snores, what was more. But the bonus   was that he could now see the man's face   clearly.

Yes, it was definitely Lex Luthor.

They had him. Now, all they had to do was   inform the police.

And there lay the problem, Clark thought as he   flew back up above the cloud cover. Just what   did they tell the police?

"What's the matter?" Lois asked, looking   around, seeming to be surprised at his retreat.   "Couldn't you see him?"

"I saw him. And it's definitely Luthor."

"That's great!" she crowed. "So what are we   doing up here?"

"We need to work out what to do next," he told   her.

She stared at him. "That's a no-brainer, Clark!   We tell Henderson, so he can get his people   over here pronto!"

"And just what do you suggest that we tell him,   huh?" Clark challenged.

He could tell the instant his point had hit   home. Her expression changed from impatience to   chagrin, and she bit her lip. "Yeah," she said   thoughtfully. Then she brightened. "Take me to   a payphone, Clark."

"Lois..." he protested, worried at the thought   of what she might do.

"What now?" she exclaimed, giving him a glare.   "Don't you trust me?"

Did he trust her? Now, that was the big   question, and Clark knew it.

But he'd already confronted that question,   hadn't he? And he hadn't trusted her; he'd been   all set to run when she'd come charging over to   his hotel room and given him a lecture on her   intentions. She'd assured him that she had no   intention of deliberately telling the world his   secret. And he'd believed her.

However, what if it was accidental? What if she   said too much, was careless?

He checked himself. This was Lois Lane, he   reminded himself once again; award-winning   reporter, with three Kerths and as many   Merriwethers to her name. And she didn't get to   where she was by carelessly giving away   information.

Yes, of course he should trust her.

Giving her a smile, he flew a short distance   from the LexCorp building before looking for   somewhere safe to land. "Of course I trust you,   Lois," he told her as he dropped gently to the   ground and began to slide her to her feet. "I   trust you with everything."

*********

Part 15

He trusted her. The rush of emotion which hit   her at his words took Lois by surprise. Why did   Clark Kent's trust matter so much? He was   nothing to her, after all. Just a man - well,   maybe an alien, but still a man - who had a few   special abilities and who worked with her.

And to whom she owed her life.

Nevertheless, he was just someone she worked   with, and might work with rather more closely   in future, given that they seemed to make a   good team. And that they could help each other.   That was all he was to her. Wasn't it?

And yet...

He hadn't trusted her after he'd told her the   truth about himself. His first reaction had   been to assume that she'd expose him. And even   when she'd assured him that she wouldn't, he'd   been sceptical, reluctant to believe her. She'd   seen that in his wary expression, and although   she'd thought he'd accepted that she was   telling the truth, his reaction just now when   she'd asked him to take her to a payphone had   shown her that he still doubted her.

Had still doubted her. If he was sincere - and   the way he'd looked at her as he'd spoken told   her without any reservation that he was - then   he now believed her.

It felt like a momentous achievement, a moment   of great significance in their relationship.

<What relationship?>

Lois tried to brush the thought away. There was   nothing momentous here. They were just two   colleagues who were getting used to working   together, and the kind of close working   relationship dictated by the demands of   investigative journalism always had teething   problems. People had to adjust their   expectations of each other, smooth away their   rough edges and overcome preconceived ideas. It   was a big and awkward transition to make -   involving about the same kind of work needed in   order to make a personal relationship to work.   In some ways, it was like marriage.

<Without the fun of the sex>

Her cheeks burning, Lois squashed that thought.   Her relationship with Clark Kent was all   business. And that was all it would be. Oh,   sure, she'd offered him help in coming up with   some sort of disguise so that he could use his   abilities openly to help people in need, but   she'd get something out of that too; she had   every intention of ensuring that the scoop on   the new freelance emergency rescuer would go to   her. And the first exclusive one-on-one   interview, too.

"Lois? Are you okay?" Clark's concerned voice   interrupted her thoughts, and she glanced at   him, feeling herself blush again.

"Uh... sure. Where's the phone?" she demanded   abruptly.

"Ah... right there," he said, sounding puzzled   and indicating at a point just behind her right   shoulder. She turned and looked, then mentally   kicked herself as she saw the familiar Bell   logo just inches away.

"Thanks," she muttered awkwardly, picking up   the receiver.

<Dial, Lois> she told herself. Focus. Just   focus. No, not on Clark Kent! she told herself   as once more she saw an image in her head of   her temporary partner as he'd looked when he'd   floated in her living-room. And then as that   one was banished, she had a flashback to their   kiss...

...his mouth on hers, giving, taking, tasting,   devouring, consuming... his arms around her,   pulling her against him, pulling her into him,   as she gripped onto him as if she could drag   herself right inside him. Wanting him, needing   him, never wanting to let him go or to lose the   heat, the mindless, passionate fervour of their   kiss...

<*Focus*!> she yelled silently, squirming with   embarrassment. She hoped fervently that he'd   told her the truth when he'd said that he   couldn't read minds.

"28th Precinct. Caller?" The impatient voice on   the other end of the line told Lois that her   thoughts had been elsewhere for too long and   that the operator was about to hang up.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "Henderson,   please."

"And who may I say is calling?" The faintly   bored, faintly aggressive voice on the other   end of the line seemed to be sending the   message that speaking to Henderson was a   privilege unlikely to be granted.

"Tell him it's Lane. And to get his butt on the   line right now," Lois snapped abruptly. Maybe   by being aggressive to some minion who was   getting in her way, she'd be able to push those   inconvenient - and disturbing - memories out of   her head.

"I heard that, Lane," a sardonic male voice   drawled down the phone-line. "Never imagined   you were that interested in my body - is this a   social call, then?"

"Not in a million years, Henderson!" Lois   barked, mentally thanking the man; his barbs   always succeeded in taking her mind off other   things. "I've got a suggestion for you,   though."

"You're too late, Lane," the detective   commented. "I've been taking long walks off   short piers for years. Too bad I always seem to   survive."

Despite herself, Lois grinned. "Just make sure   your bad luck doesn't give out one of these   days, Bill," she quipped.

"Am I hearing things?" An incredulous tone   greeted her remark. "Is Lois Lane actually   admitting that she'd miss me?"

"Hardly," she informed him dryly. "You're just   the only cop in the city with more than half a   brain, that's all."

Henderson's dry laugh warmed her, reassuring   her that she was back to being Lois Lane,   highly professional reporter on the top of her   game, instead of some stupid adolescent mooning   over a first kiss.

"Anyway, stimulating as this exchange is, Lois,   is there a point to this call? I do have more   important things to be doing."

All business now, Lois explained. "Have your   teams actually searched Luthor's apartment?"

She could sense Henderson rolling his eyes.   "We've had units out to all his homes."

"Yeah, but have you actually searched inside?"

"His staff denied knowledge of his whereabouts.   And they wouldn't let anyone in without a   warrant."

"I thought you had warrants!" Lois exclaimed.

"Arrest warrants, yes. But not search warrants,   and we decided against making a forced entry   where there was no evidence that the guy was   actually there. It's standard police procedure,   Lane. I do know how to do my job, you know!"   Henderson drawled sarcastically. "Anyway, as I   told you earlier, the guy's probably making his   way out of state by now."

"But what if he isn't, Bill?" Lois put to him.   "Look, just listen for a minute. And think   about it. Okay?"

"Shoot," the detective said immediately.

"As far as Luthor knows, he's safe. He took   care of all witnesses, didn't he? He thinks   that Clark and I are dead, and so is Baines.   And he set fires to destroy the evidence in   Baines' office. So why would he assume that   he's in any danger?"

"And so you think he might be..." Henderson   began slowly, but Lois could hear the alertness   in his tone.

"Sound asleep in his own bed," Lois finished.

"It's as good a thought as any," Henderson   agreed. "Let me have it checked out, okay?"

"That's all I want, Bill," she said.

"I'll get back to you if there's any news,"   Henderson offered, then added quickly, "Unless   I don't need to... and knowing you, I probably   won't."

"I shouldn't think so," she told him dryly, a   hint of laughter in her voice.

"You know, there are times when I think you   chose the wrong career, Lois," Henderson said   with dry humour. "And I'll deny I ever said   that if you repeat it!"

*********

"Nice work, Lois," Clark said admiringly as she   hung up and turned back to him. He'd been   unable to prevent himself listening to both   sides of the conversation, and he was very   impressed by the way she'd convinced the hard-  bitten detective to take her seriously.   Henderson clearly had a lot of respect for   Lois, obviously built up over several years of   acquaintance. And that respect was mutual,   despite Lois's seemingly disparaging attitude   towards the police officer.

"Thanks." She grinned at him, clearly very   pleased with herself.

"So what now?"

"We wait," she said firmly. "Can you fly us up   again so we can watch what happens?"

"Sure," Clark agreed, taking a step towards her   and only then realising that to do what she   asked of him would mean holding her in his arms   again. It was odd: earlier, when he'd picked   her up to fly with her, he'd managed to block   out what it had meant to hold her close to him,   and he'd barely registered the sensation of   having her in his arms.

At least, so he'd thought at the time. Now, his   mind was filled with images of holding her   closely against him, and the memory of the   sensations it had evoked.

The memory it had also evoked of their   passionate kisses in the shed at EPRAD, when   she'd also pressed her body tightly against   his. He wanted, quite desperately, to kiss her   again.

The attraction he'd felt to her right at the   beginning, when he'd thought that she was a   gangster kid named Larry, was still there,   stronger than ever now. And he knew that she   wasn't indifferent to him: her kisses had shown   him that, as had her reaction in her apartment   when he'd tried to distract her from   questioning him about his abilities.

But being attracted to him and wanting to act   on it were two quite different things, Clark   acknowledged as he scooped Lois up in his arms   again and slowly drifted upwards. Lois might   well have lots of perfectly good reasons why   she had no desire to get involved with him. She   might be in love with someone else - though he   thought that seemed unlikely; no-one at the   Planet had mentioned a boyfriend. In fact,   quite the opposite; her reputation seemed such   that she frightened most men off.

She didn't frighten him off...

Though that still didn't mean that there was   any reason why she should be interested in him,   beyond a passing attraction. Apart from   anything else, she now had more reason than   most to avoid him on a personal level, Clark   reminded himself grimly. She knew that he   wasn't... normal. Might not be human.

But, he acknowledged, she hadn't shown any kind   of distaste on learning that. She'd been   fascinated by the knowledge of what he could   do, but she'd shown no signs of being unhappy   about what he was. And he had recognised   earlier that her attitude to what he'd revealed   about himself was nothing like he'd   anticipated.

A memory from his teenage years came rushing   back, and he closed his eyes, wincing. He must   have made an awkward movement in flight,   because Lois tightened her grip on him.

"Clark? What happened?"

"Oh... uh, nothing," he reassured her, finding   his bearings again and focusing on getting them   close enough to the LexCorp building so that   they could watch what was happening. He noticed   a building opposite which had a water-tower on   its roof, and landed just behind that. It would   offer cover, so that they wouldn't be seen, and   the building was just high enough to allow him   to see into the penthouse without seeing only   its ceiling.

"Now we wait," she said quietly, sliding out of   his arms.

"Yeah," he agreed, murmuring his response.

Nothing was going to happen at least for a few   minutes; a quick scan of the area showed him   that there were no police-cars anywhere. Lois   showed little inclination to talk; she seemed   to be entirely focused on waiting for the   police to arrive. And so Clark had no choice   but to confront the memory which had assailed   him.

He'd taken Lana to see Starman when they'd both   been teenagers. He'd been all of seventeen and   she sixteen at the time. It had been a   deliberate choice of movie, though Lana herself   hadn't objected; she thought Jeff Bridges was   hot, as he remembered. She'd been fairly quiet   as they came out of the cinema, and in his   naivety he'd actually found himself wondering -   hoping - that she might actually have guessed   why he'd wanted her to see the film.

If she might at last be putting two and two   together where he was concerned...

He'd asked her then, as they'd got into his   dad's truck, what she would have done in Karen   Allen's position. If she'd been the woman who'd   discovered the alien. What had the na‹ve,   teenage Clark Kent expected? That she'd find   the whole idea of meeting an alien romantic?   That she'd have rushed to help and protect him?   That she'd insist that she'd have tried even   harder than the Karen Allen character to   protect him - that she'd have fallen in love   with him immediately, rather than after a   while, as the character in the film had?

Yes, that had been incredibly naive.

And foolish, too, he'd discovered. For Lana's   response had been to tell him that she'd   thought Jenny had been crazy for trying to   shelter the Starman. If she'd been in Jenny's   position, Lana had insisted, she'd have run a   mile in the opposite direction. No; first, she   would have exposed him to the FBI and the   military, and then got as far away from him as   she possibly could.

That day, Clark had given up all hope of ever   being able to tell Lana the truth about   himself. He'd also realised then that their   relationship was doomed to be short-lived.

How could he possibly have a relationship with   someone when he couldn't even be honest with   them about who he really was?

And it was then when he'd accepted that he   might never be able to have the kind of   relationship his parents had. After all, what   normal woman would want to be involved with a   freak? Even if he wasn't talking love,   marriage, happy ever after, what he was would   be a problem even in forming close friendships,   he'd realised. Friends - close friends - should   also be honest with each other, and that would   be a problem for him. So he'd resigned himself   to going through life as a loner.

Now, Lois Lane had thrown a very large spanner   into that particular life-plan.

She knew his secret, and she hadn't run   screaming. She'd flown with him, and had made   clear her enjoyment of the experience. And   there seemed to be a possibility that they   could even be friends.

She didn't think that he was a freak. She was   *excited* by what he could do! He'd actually   met someone to whom his strange abilities   weren't a turn-off. Lois wouldn't run screaming   from what he could do, and it was clear that   even the possibility that he was from another   planet didn't worry her in the slightest.

And she trusted him. That realisation struck   him suddenly. Of course she trusted him: she'd   put her life in his hands when she'd agreed to   fly with him! But he also got the impression   that she trusted him in other ways too. Such as   not to use his abilities to steal her story   right from under her. And to do exactly what   he'd told her he would do.

But, as she'd pointedly drawn to his attention   only a few minutes earlier, he didn't trust   her. Did he?

He'd gone running as soon as he'd told her his   secret, jumping to the conclusion that she'd   publish it. He'd reacted badly when she'd   turned up at his hotel room, assuming without   evidence that she'd come to get more dirt on   him. And then, when she'd asked to be taken to   a phone, he'd assumed that she'd be careless in   what she revealed to the police.

She'd deserved none of those suspicions. She'd   shown, each time, that she was more trustworthy   than he'd anticipated... more so, probably,   than he deserved.

Yes, he needed to give Lois Lane his trust.

That also meant, he reminded himself, that he   needed to stop coming to his own conclusions   about what she would want, or whether she would   be interested in him. He needed to give her   credit for being an adult, capable of making   her own decisions, and of doing her own   rejecting, if she wanted to do it. He shouldn't   assume in advance that she would reject him,   and then not even give her the opportunity to   make her own mind up!

"They're here!"

Lois was pulling on his arm, and Clark blinked,   returning his attention to his surroundings.   He'd been so lost in thought that he'd missed   the arrival of the police; despite his natural   advantages, Lois had seen them before he had,   despite the fact that, to her, they would have   been little more than dots.

No fewer than four cars had pulled up just   outside the LexCorp building. Watching closely,   Clark saw Henderson emerge from one. He gave   directions to a couple of other men, then went   over to the entrance. Clark saw the flash of a   badge and an official document, then the   detective disappeared inside, followed by two   uniformed officers.

"What's happening?" Lois demanded. He turned to   look at her, grinning at her enthusiasm,   combined with her automatic assumption that he   would use his abilities to keep her informed.

"Okay, well, they've just gone inside," he told   her, narrating the scene unfolding below. "And   Henderson's spoken to a security guard... Yeah,   the guard's going to go up with them in the   elevator."

"Clark!" She grabbed his arm. "They'll warn   Luthor! He'll get away!"

He switched his attention to the penthouse   suite. An older man with silvery hair was on   the telephone, while two others, dressed in   livery, were heading towards Lex Luthor's   bedroom.

He couldn't interfere; it was too dangerous.   But he could keep an eye on what was   happening...

Then his attention was distracted, and he lost   his focus on the penthouse. Lois was tugging on   his arm, her tone impatient.

"Clark! What's happening now?"

"Lois, let me watch, please! I'll tell you what   I can, but I can't concentrate and give you a   running commentary at the same time!" he told   her hurriedly.

"Oh, okay." She didn't sound especially happy,   but that hardly mattered.

Back in the penthouse, Luthor was out of bed -   Clark averted his eyes briefly from the man's   near-naked body - and was being helped into a   robe. Using all his reserves of concentration,   he tried to listen in on the conversation, but   could only hear snatches.

"Police... warrant... just some questions...   way up..." one servant was saying.

"St John... on the telephone..."

Then the bedroom door was pushed open and the   silvery-haired man strode in. His voice was   crisp and much clearer; Clark was able to hear   most of his words. "My apologies for this   intrusion, sir. Clearly some of Metropolis's   police have forgotten their manners."

Luthor waved his hand, although Clark was sure   the man's expression was irritated. "It's a   trifling matter, Nigel. I cannot imagine what   this officer - ?"

"An Inspector Henderson," the man called Nigel   supplied.

"Indeed. I simply have no idea what he can want   with me. But, of course, we must always   endeavour to assist our worthy public   servants!"

Luthor shrugged then, adding, "Lead the way,   Nigel. I assume that they will be escorted to   my office?"

So he wasn't going to try to make a run for it,   Clark thought, relieved. But was Luthor really   so confident of having covered his tracks that   he wasn't even concerned about what Henderson   might want?

The two men were walking together out of   Luthor's bedroom, and Clark had to strain   harder to hear their conversation. "...the   helicopter ready?" Luthor was saying.

"Naturally, sir; it did occur to me that some   precautions might be necessary."

"Excellent, Nigel." Luthor stepped into the   light afforded by a large standard lamp, and   the satisfied, confident smile on his face was   clearly visible to Clark. "Remind me to   increase your salary next month."

"I've already taken care of that, sir," the man   called Nigel replied.

"As ever, you anticipate my needs." They had   reached the door which, Clark could see, led to   Luthor's office. A dig in his ribs made him   lose focus again.

"Lois!" he exclaimed.

"What's going on? You've said nothing for ages!   And then you started to look worried... He'd   better not be getting away!"

Clark sighed. "Actually, I am a bit worried -   he's got a helicopter ready to go. Though he's   going to talk to Inspector Henderson first,   so..."

"So that means he has an escape plan," Lois   said decisively. "And that he's going to   neutralise Henderson somehow. I just hope he   doesn't kill Henderson - the guy may be a cop,   but he's one of the good guys all the same."

"Lois, you know I wouldn't let that happen!"   Clark said immediately. "Come on, you have to   know that!"

Her small hand covered his large one suddenly.   "Yes, I do know that," Lois said softly. "You   saved my life. And you didn't have to. I know   what it cost you in terms of letting me in on   your secret."

Looking at her, he saw the sincerity and the   look of apology in her gaze. Shaking his head   slightly, he smiled softly in return.

"Lois, I couldn't have let you die." To Clark's   surprise, his words came out huskily. "Even if   I'd had to let Luthor find out what I can do   too."

"You really are one of the good guys, Clark."   Lois squeezed his hand briefly before stepping   back. "Now, get back to watching Luthor!"

"Yes, ma'am!" He grinned quickly at her, then   turned his attention back to the penthouse   floor - and very quickly realised that he   shouldn't have looked away. Henderson and the   two other officers were in Luthor's office, but   the man called Nigel was holding the other   officers at bay with one handgun, while Luthor   had Henderson at gunpoint.

"...so the deal is, Inspector, you will   accompany me - as guarantor of my safety, of   course. And your colleagues will remain here,   to be looked after by my staff. You understand,   of course?" Luthor was saying, in a tone which   was as urbane as if he were addressing a   society gathering. Clark felt his fists clench.

"You do know that taking me hostage won't get   you anywhere, don't you, Luthor?" Henderson   drawled. "Like any other ordinary police   officer, I'm expendable."

"Well, we'll soon find out how true that is,"   Luthor said casually, before jabbing his gun   into Henderson's side. "Now, if you wouldn't   mind moving...?"

He had to do something. But just what that   something would be, Clark wasn't sure...

"Lois, stay here!" he told her urgently.

"What's going on?" she demanded, as he'd known   she would.

"Trouble," he said briefly, before running off   the top of the building and swooping up towards   the penthouse. Being seen was a worry; it was   broad daylight now, after all. But if he stuck   close to the wall and moved either extremely   quickly, faster than the human eye could see,   or else so slowly that it didn't attract   attention, he should be fine.

What could he do? He did have one very   effective way of persuading someone to drop a   gun, of course. But could he do it? He'd never   tried it through glass before. Would it work?   Would he end up burning a hole in the glass   too? That would be a bad idea - the last thing   he wanted was for anyone to realise that he was   out there.

Maybe it wouldn't affect the glass. After all,   he could use what his parents called his X-ray   vision through glass, without any ill-effects   either on himself or on the glass.

Clark took a deep breath. Okay, he'd give it a   try...

Concentrating, he lowered his glasses and sent   a dart of heat vision through the window, aimed   straight at Lex Luthor's pistol-hand. And,   seconds later, he had the satisfaction of   seeing the businessman wince and drop the gun,   cradling his hand protectively against his   side. Before anyone else in the room could   react, Clark turned his attention to the man   called Nigel, giving him the same treatment.

He was pleased to see that the police officers   acted very swiftly, drawing their own weapons   and overpowering Luthor and Nigel. All was   well; he smiled, then took flight at almost   supersonic speed to return to Lois.

********

Part 16

Okay. She really didn't have a clue what he was   doing, Lois thought in irritation as she stared   up at the speck which was Clark, apparently   clinging to the side of the penthouse wall. She   *hated* not knowing what was going on. Couldn't   he have told her what was happening? What he   intended to do?

Well, he would darned well tell her   *everything* just as soon as he came back! Or   else he'd be shredded wheat!

The wind stirred beside her, and when it died   down again, Clark was standing there, a smug   grin on his face.

"What was that all about?" she demanded.

"Luthor and his associate set a trap for   Henderson." Clark explained what had happened,   and his own remedial action.

"Wow." Lois shook her head. "Is there anything   you can't do?"

At that, Clark looked almost embarrassed. "I'm   not some sort of superhuman being, you know,   Lois."

"Could've fooled me." Superhuman... That set   her thinking. He was pretty super, and the   things he could do were *definitely*   superhuman. Maybe...

But that was for later. "So, Luthor's under   arrest?"

"He was when I came back up here." Clark looked   away for a moment, over towards the LexCorp   building; then he turned back to her. "They're   on their way down. And yes, Luthor and his   functionary are definitely in custody!" He   grinned at her, clearly as delighted as she   was.

"We did it!" Lois exclaimed excitedly.

"Yeah!" And suddenly, without Lois having any   idea how it had happened, they were in each   other's arms, hugging joyfully.

"See how much help you can be?" she said to   Clark, smiling happily up at him.

He smiled back, his eyes alight. "I couldn't   have done it without you. You had the bright   idea that Luthor might still be here. And you   suggested that we look for him."

"We make a great team," she told him.

"Fantastic." His arms tightened around her, and   she slid her own arms up and around his neck.   She met his gaze with hers, enjoying the way   his brown eyes sparkled with delight and   happiness. Yes, they were a great team.

And suddenly their surroundings seemed to fade,   and Clark's eyes lost that excited light and   turned darker, more intense. And Lois felt a   sense of tension growing deep inside her, as if   she was waiting with anticipation for something   to happen...

...and, as her chin tilted up towards Clark   almost of its own accord, and he lowered his   head to meet her, she knew what it was.

Their lips touched. And lightning struck. And   Lois knew that their fevered, desperate kisses   in the EPRAD shed hadn't just been the result   of a near-death encounter. Clark Kent's kisses   really had the power to stir her as no other   man's ever had.

The kiss grew deeper within seconds, both eager   to know the other and unable to countenance   delay. Her lips were parted beneath his, and   she was exploring him just as frantically as he   was her. Her knees felt weak, and she clung to   him, wanting - needing - to get closer still.   One of his hands had slid up her back and was   holding her head, fingers combing through the   strands of her hair. She pulled her arms back   from around his neck, sliding her palms up to   caress his face, uncaring about the rasp of   stubble which scratched her; just needing to be   closer to him.

And she was lost. Tumbling headlong into lust -   or even into love - with Clark Kent.

********

He was kissing her again. And she was kissing   him back, just as fiercely as before.

Part of him had been wondering, ever since   their escape from EPRAD, whether Lois's   response to his kisses - her own kisses in   return - had been borne solely of desperation,   an uncontrollable need for human contact and   succour in what she'd believed were her last   few minutes of life.

Her life wasn't in danger now. And yet she was   clinging to him as if her survival depended on   it. As if he was essential to her well-being.

Just as she was to his.

He hadn't been imagining it over the past   couple of weeks; he really was falling in love   with Lois Lane.

She was soft and yielding in his arms, clinging   to him as if she didn't want to let go either.   Could she possibly feel the same way?

Reality began to intrude, however, as the sound   of police radios sparked off his hearing.   Things were happening down below that they   couldn't ignore - that Lois certainly wouldn't   want to ignore.

Reluctantly, he dragged his mouth from hers.   But Lois tightened her grip on him, trying to   tug him back to her.

"Lois... the police... Luthor..." he managed to   say, before her lips invaded his again. But she   pulled back after one last kiss.

"You're right," she agreed, clearly loath to   say so; he couldn't help but notice that she   was flushed and breathing heavily. "We've got   to get the scoop on him being arrested. There   is *no way* that I'm missing out on that! Not   when the guy tried to kill us!"

Clark grinned. "Consider me at your service.   Where would you like to go?"

"Down there." She pointed. "I want to talk to   Henderson before he leaves."

"Your wish, again, is my command." He made a   little bow before scooping her up into his   arms. "Let's go."

*********

They'd got another scoop, and this time it was   even bigger. The fall of Lex Luthor, the city's   richest citizen, friend of politicians and   winner of the Man of the Year for the last   half-dozen years. Lois couldn't wait to get the   exclusive from Henderson so that they could go   back to the Planet and write it up.

It wasn't until Clark set her down in an alley   just around the corner from the LexCorp   building that Lois realised her excitement   about getting the Luthor story had even   surpassed that of flying with Clark. How   quickly she was becoming blas‚ about something   which, less than an hour earlier, had been   beyond the realms of fantasy.

As he released her, Clark grinned knowingly and   Lois realised that he understood just what was   going through her mind. Stunned, she had to   pause for a moment. She'd known Clark Kent less   than two weeks - and for at least four days of   that time she hadn't known he was anything   other than a low-life car thief. How could he   possibly understand her so well?

And yet he clearly did. As he gestured for her   to precede him out of the alley, he murmured,   "Another Kerth award on its way to you, I   assume. Is this your biggest scoop yet?"

"Yet," she agreed, then gave him a wink. "Just   wait until I write the exclusive on Superman.   *That* will knock all the others into the   shade!"

Clark halted abruptly. "*Superman*?"

"Yep." She grinned. "That's what I'm going to   call you. I decided it back there, when we were   up on the roof. You keep telling me that you're   just a man, an ordinary guy, and yet you can do   so many superhuman things... well, that makes   you Superman, in my opinion."

Clark's expression indicated that he wasn't all   that happy with her idea. "I'm not really sure   about that, Lois. The name... well, it's kind   of egotistical, isn't it?"

"Not if you're not the one to come up with it,"   she pointed out.

"But still... Lois, I might not even *be*   human. Remember?"

She shrugged. "Does it matter? You look like a   man. Don't you?"

To her amazement, he blushed. "Um... yeah."

"Then Superman it is."

But he surprised her by sticking to his   resistance. "We'll talk about it. Okay? Now,   don't you have somewhere you wanted to be?"

"Come on." She grabbed his arm. "We have a   story to get."

Henderson rolled his eyes as they approached   the parked cars. "Jeez, Lane, don't you ever go   to sleep?"

"Could say the same for you, Henderson," she   drawled.

He ignored her response. "Kent, don't let this   crazy woman drag you into bad habits."

"Do I get a choice?" Clark quipped.

"I should have guessed you two would be   somewhere about, after that tip-off," the   detective added.

"Of course!" Lois said immediately. "So, what   about that exclusive you promised us?"

"You can come by the precinct later today,"   Henderson offered. "I'll talk to you then."

"You can talk to us now!"

"Hey!" An indignant voice called from one of   the cars. Lois glanced over, seeing a somewhat   dishevelled-looking Lex Luthor trying to lean   out past his police escort. "Just what is the   delay here?"

"What's the matter, Luthor?" she called,   strolling over towards the car. "Don't like it   when you have to wait on someone else's   timetable for a change?"

The look on his face was worth all the trauma   she'd gone through that night. "Lois Lane!" he   exclaimed, his famous control actually dropping   as he showed incredulity.

"In the flesh," she drawled. "And you were   never actually introduced to my partner, were   you?" she added as Clark moved over to join   her. "Clark Kent, also of the Daily Planet."

She could almost feel Luthor gritting his   teeth. Then he said, very casually, "One might   wonder just how you managed to escape from the   very unfortunate situation I understand Dr   Baines had placed you in."

"On your instructions, you mean," Lois hissed.   Then, mimicking her questioner's casual air,   she added, "Maybe this should teach you never   to underestimate award-winning investigative   journalists."

Clark caught her arm lightly as she turned back   to Henderson; the detective had been watching   the exchange with a grin which was quickly   stifled as the two of them returned. "Lois, I'm   not an award-winning reporter," Clark pointed   out.

"Not yet," she told him with a grin. "But you   will be. That's a given. Just stick with me,   kid, and you'll go far," she drawled.

"As far as the nearest clink, if you're not   careful, Lane," Henderson commented with a   flash of humour. "I just know that one of these   days I'm going to get a call from Perry White -   or maybe Kent here - telling me that you're   locked up for interfering in police business or   breaking and entering. And I'm looking forward   to seeing you with bars across your face, you   know."

Lois shrugged, untroubled by the familiar   banter with the detective; they had a long   relationship which, although was characterised   by barbs and caustic exchanges, was securely   based on mutual trust and respect. "I've been   in jail before now."

She almost felt the raise of eyebrows on   Clark's face. "You can fill me in on that   later," he said, before turning to Henderson.   "Okay, what can you tell us for now? What will   the charges be?"

"Can't you let us charge him first?" Henderson   said sardonically. "Okay, it's no secret that   we'll be charging him with attempted murder and   conspiracy to murder. Probably Murder One as   well, if we can tie him to Baines' death. And   I'll probably manage to slip in something about   threatening and attempted abduction of a police   officer too."

Lois remembered just in time that she wasn't   supposed to know anything about that. "Oh?"

"Look, if the two of you come to see me this   evening, I'll fill you in on the details,   okay?" Henderson said. "Right now, I have to   take these... *gentlemen* down to the precinct.   You've got your scoop anyway - it'll make the   Planet's evening edition, right? And I'll save   you some exclusive material, so you don't have   to worry that LNN will get the jump on you," he   finished, his voice laced heavily with irony.

"I can't wait to see how LNN reports this,"   Lois commented with a grin at Clark. "What's   the betting that they make it the filler before   the last commercial break?"

"I won't even touch that one!"

**********

The day staff were just arriving in the   newsroom when Lois and Clark had finished   writing up the arrest of Lex Luthor. Clark had   noticed Lois stifling several yawns as she   insisted on reading over their story for the   third time, and so as soon as she hit send, he   tapped her shoulder.

"Come on. I'm taking you home."

She smothered another yawn. "You are?"   Excitement gleamed in her eyes and she made a   strange gesture with her hand, which he guessed   that he was supposed to interpret as a flying   movement.

"Yeah." He winked. "It'll be quicker than   calling you a cab, anyway. If you're happy   about letting me... uh, take you."

"Happy?" She raised her eyebrows, and then   ended up yawning again. "I wasn't kidding   earlier when I said I'd be continually bugging   you, Clark!"

And he finally acknowledged that she meant it.   She really did see his abilities as a positive   thing, and not something to be alarmed about.   Okay, she'd done her best to convince him of   that earlier, and he'd even begun to believe it   then, but almost an hour spent at the Planet   working on their latest report had given him   time to think. And, he admitted, to obsess. To   decide that maybe she'd just been polite, not   wanting to be unkind to him.

But then, he should know by now that being nice   just for the sake of it wasn't really Lois   Lane's way of doing things, shouldn't he? She   didn't believe in polite fictions. If she said   something, she generally meant it.

He smiled. "Okay. Let's hit the stairs; we can   take off from the roof." At her weary look, he   grinned. "Don't worry - once we're in the   stairwell, I'll carry you!"

She'd fallen asleep in his arms even before   he'd got them above cloud cover. Flying slowly   so as not to wake her, Clark gazed fondly at   the woman he was carrying.

Lois Lane had entered his life like a   whirlwind, and she'd set all his expectations,   all his plans, on their ears. He'd never   expected to find anyone who would accept him   just as he was, difference and all - and yet   she had. He'd never expected that he would ever   find a way to use his abilities openly to help   people; that he'd have to go through his life   continually tortured by knowing that there were   people in trouble and that he couldn't help   them without risking everything that he cared   about. And yet Lois had come up with what   looked like the perfect solution.

He'd never expected to fall headlong in love.   Not after Lana. And yet he was falling headlong   in love with Lois Lane.

No; he was already headlong in love with Lois   Lane.

He tested that feeling, expecting it to terrify   him. Expecting to feel the fear coursing   through him, the dread that she would never   feel the same way about him, that she could   never want to date a man as... as *not-human*   as he was.

And yet all he felt was calm. Calm and a   submerged sense of excitement.

Lois was not indifferent to him. He knew that.   Okay, he could easily write off her statement   that she was attracted to him, and their first   heady kisses, as simply the product of what had   seemed to her to be impending death. With the   second kisses, there'd been no danger to her.   And she'd known about him, about everything   which made him different, about everything he   simply didn't know about himself.

Maybe, just maybe...

She stirred slightly in his arms, giving a   little whimper, and then settled her head back   into the crook of his shoulder. He was tempted   to stop flying altogether and simply float up   in the clouds with her in his embrace. But he   couldn't do that, he told himself. Lois was   exhausted. She needed to be in her bed, asleep   where she could be comfortable.

Dragging his thoughts away from the woman he   loved, he thought again about her idea of a   disguise. It would be fantastic if it worked.   He'd never again have to ignore someone's plea   for help purely on the basis that he was afraid   of disclosing his identity and putting himself   and his family at risk.

But would it work? What sort of disguise was   Lois thinking of? What she'd said about him   looking very different without his glasses had   been extremely interesting; but would that be   enough? Even with his hair styled differently?

She was right about uniforms. People never did   notice the faces of the uniformed officials   they dealt with. But what sort of uniform? Was   she suggesting that he don the uniform of a   police officer? Or a soldier? But, apart from   the fact that impersonating an official of that   type was a criminal offence and definitely   something he didn't want to do, that could send   the wrong message. Not all of the sort of   people in danger that he could be called upon   to help saw officialdom as something they could   trust.

So he'd need a unique uniform. One he could   make his own, and by which he'd be instantly   recognisable - but wouldn't that make him stand   out *more*? Surely people would notice his face   if he was the only one wearing the uniform?   He'd get photographed. His image would be   plastered on every newspaper's front page and   on every TV news show. He'd be IDed as soon as   anyone who knew Clark Kent saw it, surely?

But... maybe not. If he ensured that his   behaviour, his posture, even his tone of voice   were all different when he wore his uniform -   when he was... well, Superman, if that was what   Lois was insisting on calling him, though he   was still far from happy with the name. Then   maybe, just maybe, it could work...

As he approached Lois's apartment building, he   realised that he was going to have to wake her.   He'd need to land in that alley just behind her   building and get her to find her keys; there   was no way that he was going to search through   her clothes to find where she'd stashed them.

Clark realised then that he should probably   have flown them to the Apollo Hotel - he   *really* needed to find an apartment! - and   picked up her Jeep; he could have driven it for   her. She'd need it at home, not outside her   colleague's hotel. But then, he could find a   way of returning it for her later, he guessed.

Then his eye was caught by a window which was   slightly ajar; flying closer, he identified it   as Lois's living-room window. He didn't need to   wake her. He could just fly in through the   window and carry her to her bed.

He could carry Lois into her bedroom... His   breath caught at the thought, and he found   himself visualising laying Lois down on the   bedspread, taking off her shoes, probably   taking off her coat...

No. That was a very bad idea.

But he couldn't just leave her dressed as she   was, and he certainly couldn't lay her down on   one of her sofas. From what he'd seen earlier,   they weren't long enough for her to lie flat,   and he had no intention of letting her risk   getting a stiff neck.

He'd just have to do what he needed to do and   then get out of her apartment and go and take a   cold shower somewhere. Preferably in the Arctic   Sea.

" `lark?" The lithe body in his arms stirred,   and Clark looked down. Lois was gazing sleepily   up at him. "Where are we?"

"In your apartment." He smiled affectionately   at her.

"I fell asleep?" She sounded horrified, her   eyes now open wide, and she tried to slide out   of his arms.

"You know that you weigh less than a feather,   to me," Clark reminded her. "Carrying you isn't   a problem."

"Yeah, but I missed a flight with you!" She   sounded chagrined.

Clark laughed aloud. "If that's the only   problem, consider it remedied! I'll take you   flying whenever you want to go. And anyway,   you've already promised to come with me to get   this `uniform' sorted out - that'll mean a   flight to Kansas."

"Kansas?" Lois blinked as he allowed her to   slide to her feet. "Isn't that where you come   from?"

"Yeah." He smiled at her. "I'm going to ask my   mom to make something for me. She's great with   a sewing machine!"

Lois looked taken aback. "You want me to come   with you to your mother's house?"

"My parents' place - the farm," he explained.   "And sure! I'd love you to!"

She smiled shyly at him, then followed it with   a yawn. "Okay, I really have to get some   sleep," she told him.

"Sure. I'll just..." He gestured towards the   window.

"Wait." She caught his arm.

Clark paused, giving her a quizzical look.

"You can't just... I mean, after all that's   happened..." Now she was looking awkward, even   a little embarrassed. She dropped her hand and   backed away from him just a little.

He wasn't sure what was on her mind - whether   it was their story, or the fact that he'd saved   her life, or his abilities - but what he was   sure of was that she should be in bed, asleep.   "It'll keep, Lois," he assured her.

"No, it won't." She sounded surprisingly   resolute, despite her tiredness. "Clark... it's   been... uh, a pretty eventful night."

"Yeah, it has," he agreed. "But, hey, look what   we got out of it! The exclusive story on Lex   Luthor's arrest! Okay, it won't appear until   the afternoon edition, and it may get onto one   of the TV news shows before then, but we have   the inside track. They'll all be following the   Planet's lead." He grinned at her.

"Sure, but that wasn't what I was talking   about." Somewhat shyly, he thought, she placed   a hand on his arm again.

"What were you talking about?" he asked softly.

"Us... I mean, you and me. *Is* there a you and   me?" Her words were hesitant, and Clark had a   flashback to those moments inside the shed at   EPRAD when he'd seen another glimpse of a Lois   who lacked confidence in her own   attractiveness. She scared men off, she'd   thought. He wasn't attracted to her, she'd   imagined.

She couldn't still think that, could she?

"Lois..." he began, feeling very unsure about   what was the right thing to say. Of course he   was attracted to her. Of course he wanted there   to be a "you and me", as she'd phrased it. But   what if this was all the product of euphoria   and too little sleep on Lois's part?

On the other hand, he'd never be able to   forgive himself if his caution brought back   that terrible hurt look to her eyes.

"If it was up to me, there'd definitely be a   you and me," he told her without any further   hesitation.

"What do you mean, if it was up to you?" she   questioned.

"Lois, you've had two nights with next to no   sleep. You're dead on your feet. Plus it's been   a heck of a traumatic night. I can't hold you   to anything you might say or do in this state!   You need to get some sleep. We can talk later,   okay?" he suggested.

"Clark!" Lois exclaimed. "Are you trying to   give me the brush-off for my own good here?"

"Uh..." He floundered a little as he realised   that her interpretation could be seen as valid.   "Not really. It's just that... oh, heck, Lois!   You must know that I'm attracted to you! But I   can't let you make any sort of commitment now,   when you're almost asleep on your feet -"

"Clark!"

"What?"

"Shut up!"

And suddenly he had an armful of soft, yielding   woman in his arms again, her lips on his, her   arms around his neck. And he wasn't going to   argue with that!

**********

Part 17

Lois almost floated into her bedroom after   Clark left; she wasn't sure whether it was her   state of beyond-exhaustion or the sensations   his kiss induced in her.

His kiss. He'd insisted on keeping it to one,   despite all her powers of persuasion. He'd been   right, of course; she desperately needed her   sleep, and in fact he'd been pretty much   holding her upright as he'd returned her kiss.   But she couldn't have let him leave without   that kiss - for her own sake as much as his.

She knew that if she'd waited until the next   time she saw him, she'd never have had the   nerve to take the initiative. And it was clear   that Clark wouldn't have.

But it still hadn't been easy. She'd almost let   him go. He'd clearly been reluctant to touch   her beyond what had been necessary to get her   home and, if necessary, into her bedroom. But,   despite all her reservations about men, and   especially about men she worked with, Lois had   known that she couldn't let *this* man just   turn tail and fly - literally - out of her   life.

She wanted him. As a friend... and as more than   a friend.

His kisses had stirred her more than any other   man's, ever. And what she knew of him told her   that he was nothing like Paul, nothing like   Claude. He was a good guy, and he could be   trusted.

What was more, she already knew inside, in a   way she couldn't explain, that she trusted him   implicitly. Not only not to betray her   professionally - she'd accepted the day before   that Clark wouldn't behave like that - but she   also trusted him not to betray her personally.   He wouldn't walk out on her, or use her and   discard her. In fact, she'd thought while   contemplating her action, he was probably more   afraid that *she* would hurt him.

He'd given her the very strong impression that   what he expected from people - from women in   particular - was rejection. He'd expected her   to be afraid of him, or of what he could do. Or   maybe fear wasn't the right emotion; maybe   prejudice was what he'd expected.

He hadn't said so, but she had a sneaking   suspicion that he'd been rejected at some point   by a woman, and very probably for something to   do with his differences. So he had simply   expected her to do the same.

Hadn't he?

That, she thought, was what was really behind   his reluctance to kiss her before he'd left.   He'd persuaded himself that, once she'd caught   up on some sleep and seen the night's events in   the perspective which came with distance, she'd   `realise' that she really wasn't interested in   the enigma that was Clark Kent: the man who   might not be human.

And she had no intention of letting him believe   that. Or of letting him try to convince her of   it. So, when he hadn't taken her up on her very   blatant offer - which she'd barely been able to   believe that she'd made - she'd had to kiss him   herself.

It had been worth it. His lips had softened   under hers, despite his attempt at resistance,   and his arms had tightened around her. He'd   been hers in that moment.

But only for that moment. He'd pulled back   shortly afterwards, reluctance clear in his   expression, and set her from him.

He had to leave, he'd insisted. She had to get   some sleep. They could talk later... maybe? if   she wanted to? he'd asked.

Try to stop her! she'd insisted.

They'd arranged to meet up later that day,   before Clark had insisted that she go to bed.   He'd hesitated, looking concerned, just as he'd   turned to walk back to the window.

"Are you sure you can make it there on your   own? You don't need me to carry you?"

"To my bedroom?" She'd laughed at him,   smothering a yawn at the same time. "I think I   can make it that far."

She'd sensed that he wanted to leave, anyway -   and something told her that it was more a case   of *not* wanting to leave, but getting out of   her apartment while he still could. And that   was good news.

Yes, she was falling in love with Clark Kent.   As she climbed into bed, Lois admitted that to   herself at last.

The good news was that, unless her instincts   were completely askew - which wouldn't be   unheard of where personal relationships were   concerned - Clark was far from being   indifferent to her.

If her guess was right, he just needed to be   persuaded that she wouldn't reject him. And   that was just too ironic for words - Lois Lane,   the woman who'd been rejected by just about   every man she'd cared about. But then, her   experience did mean that she understood how he   might feel.

Later... they'd talk later...

*********

"Great work, you two! Sales of the afternoon   edition are up by 10%!"

Clark smiled with pleasure at Perry White as he   and Lois entered the newsroom. Lex Luthor's   arrest had dominated the media all day, from   what he'd been able to tell. When he'd driven   Lois's Jeep over to her place - she'd given him   her key for that purpose earlier - he'd stopped   to pick up a copy of the Planet's evening   edition on the way. Their story was on the   front page, and occupied two further inside   pages as well, even though they hadn't been   able to say much about the nature of the   charges when they'd written that story.

So far, among other things, they hadn't   identified Lex Luthor as the mastermind behind   the Messenger explosion and the attempt on his   and Lois's life the previous evening - and they   wouldn't be able to do that for a while yet,   since they had no intention of jeopardising the   fairness of Luthor's trial. But, once they were   free to write everything they knew, they had   the exclusive on the whole story - their own   eyewitness accounts and evidence as well as   Henderson's promise that they'd get full co-  operation and that no other media organisation   would get the information from the police.

Now, they had to write up what could be printed   in the Planet's morning edition, and then he'd   promised Lois the best takeout she'd ever had.

And they would talk.

She'd insisted on it. She'd been ready to go   when he'd come for her, looking tired but   exhilarated. But, once they were in the Jeep   ready to drive off, she'd paused before turning   the key in the ignition.

"We've got a couple of hours' work to do,   Clark," she'd pointed out, although he'd been   well aware of that. "But once that's over, you   and I are going to have another talk."

"We are?" he'd asked, unsure what she was   getting at.

"We are. I told you that this morning,   remember?"

"About...?"

"You and me, naturally," she'd said. And he'd   had to be content with that explanation.

He was still barely daring to hope. Despite his   decision that morning not to attempt to   prejudge or predict Lois's feelings towards   him, it was very difficult to set aside years   of conditioning and the decision he'd come to   after Lana. Lois was attracted to him; she'd   proved that by taking the initiative and   kissing him after he'd taken her home. But   she'd been dead on her feet - she couldn't have   been thinking straight!

And anyway, there was a huge difference between   being attracted to someone and actually wanting   a relationship with them.

And, of course, he knew that Lois hadn't had   nearly enough time yet to come to terms with   what he was.

Abnormal.

Probably not even human.

What woman would want to build a relationship   with someone like him?

At least, that was what he'd always thought.   Was it possible that Lois was the one woman who   could accept him as he was?

Those thoughts had occupied his consciousness   all the way to the precinct, and Lois had had   to speak to him twice to attract his attention.   Thereafter, he'd tried to push thoughts of   anything personal between them out of his mind.   Not that it had been easy - but it did help   that Lois was such a consummate professional.

So they'd got the information they'd needed,   plus some more for later use, from Inspector   Henderson, whom Clark was coming to respect   more and more. Lex Luthor, it seemed, already   had his own lawyer, one Sheldon Bender, on the   case and, according to Henderson, was doing his   best to tie things up in procedure - but the   DA's office, the detective told them, was   completely on board, having seen some of the   evidence against Luthor. It might take time,   Henderson had said, but they would get a   conviction.

The arraignment hearing was the following   afternoon - he and Lois planned to be there -   and the DA's office was opposing bail. Bender,   of course, would pull out all  the stops to   convince the judge, but Henderson's view was   that in the light of the charges and the   obvious flight risk - especially Luthor's   attempt to escape and take a police officer   hostage in the process - prosecutors were   confident that bail would be denied. Which was   fortunate, in Clark's view; he was very sure   that Luthor would seek revenge on Lois. Not   that being confined in prison was likely to   hamper someone of Lex Luthor's resources, of   course, and he was determined to keep a very   close guard on Lois for the time being.

So far, though, things had gone very well. A   murderer and conspirator was in custody, having   been charged and awaiting arraignment, almost   entirely due to his and Lois's work. And, Lois   had added as they'd headed back to the Planet,   Lane and Kent would certainly get a Kerth   nomination.

Lane and Kent.

It sounded good. No, it sounded *great*, Clark   decided as he finished off the section of the   story he and Lois had agreed that he would   write. And things were sounding as if he and   Lois would be a permanent team. Lois had   earlier hinted pretty clearly that she liked   that idea, but it wasn't her decision, he knew.   Work assignments and any teamworking were up to   the editor.

However, Perry White seemed well pleased with   his newest writing team. Calling Lois and Clark   into his office once they'd both finished their   stories and agreed the final versions, the   editor beamed at both of them.

"Good work, you two. I took a call earlier   today from the paper's major shareholder, and   he asked me to pass on his personal   congratulations to the two of you."

Lois beamed, and Clark couldn't help grinning   in response, both to the compliment on their   work and also at his partner's delight.

"Just doing our job, Chief," Lois said matter-  of-factly, to Clark's amusement.

"Well, that's fine, as long as you keep it up!"   Perry replied, but with a grin. "So, Lois, you   decided that Chuck Carlton was right about Kent   here?"

Clark grimaced inwardly; why did the editor   have to remind her about their inauspicious   beginning as colleagues? But Lois shrugged.   "Even Homer sometimes nods, Chief."

"And even Lois Lane occasionally gets things   wrong," Perry added with a wink. "Okay, kids,   you've done a couple of days of excellent work,   and I can see that you're tired. Now get out of   here - I don't want to see you until tomorrow   afternoon."

"Thanks," Clark said. "I appreciate it, Perry.   But we were just doing our job, like Lois   said."

"Okay, okay." The editor brushed his token   protest aside. "One more thing. You two   obviously make a great team. Either of you have   any objections to being partnered permanently?"

The question was addressed to both of them, but   Clark noticed that Perry's attention was   primarily directed at Lois. He wondered if the   editor was expecting resistance from her. She   smiled, however, shaking her head. "I think   that's an excellent idea, Chief."

"Are you feeling all right, Lois?" Perry asked,   concerned.

"Never felt better, Chief," Lois said airily.   "Why?"

Perry rolled his eyes, Clark noticed. "Doesn't   matter. I'll see you tomorrow!"

**********

At last they were on their way out of the   Planet building. Normally, Lois would have been   itching to stay, to see what else was going on   and what the other big stories for the morning   edition were. She'd have wanted to watch the TV   screens to see how the story of Luthor's   arrest, broken in full by the Planet and   followed by every other media outlet in the   city, was being covered, and she'd have   revelled in once again being the Planet's star   reporter.

But not tonight.

Now, all she wanted to do was to get Clark Kent   alone and have that long talk with him she'd   been promising herself.

She was in love with Clark. His kisses had the   power to drive her to the brink of insanity.   And if he so much as *tried* to tell her - for   her own good, as he insisted on putting it -   that she shouldn't get involved with him, she'd   tell him what happened to the last person who   tried to make her do something `for her own   good'. That particular individual was still   walking with a stick last time Lois had seen   him.

Not that those kind of tactics would work on   Clark... Maybe she should just kiss him   senseless instead, she decided as they emerged   into the parking garage.

That thought made her grin.

"Lois?"

She came out of her abstraction and saw that   Clark was giving her an enquiring look.

"Nothing." She waved a hand idly. "Just   thinking. So... you're coming back to my place   with me, yeah?"

He nodded. "If you still want me to."

"You don't get away that easily!" she told him.

He grinned. "Okay. How about I get takeout? If   you're hungry, that is."

"What kind of takeout?"

Clark shrugged. "Whatever you like. Chinese,   Thai, Italian, Indian, Greek, Mexican..."

It suddenly occurred to Lois that he probably   wasn't talking about calling a restaurant   somewhere down the road. "You... you mean you'd   go to *Bangkok* if I asked for a Thai green   curry?" she asked, incredulous.

"Sure! Want any side orders?"

Metaphorically putting her jaw back in place,   Lois caught Clark's arm before he could fly   off. "Maybe another time. Tonight... well,   let's just have pizza delivered, okay?"

"If that's what you want."

Clark seemed nervous, Lois thought. "Hey,   relax, partner! I'm not going to eat you!" she   teased, then blushed as she realised the   potential meaning of her words.

But Clark didn't appear to have noticed. "You   know, that really surprised me. That Perry   would make us partners just like that."

"Why not?" she responded, surprised, unlocking   the Jeep as she spoke. "He knows what's good   for the paper - and on the evidence of the last   couple of days, you and me working together is   definitely that. Why wouldn't he team us up?"

"Yeah, but you've been at the Planet for years;   you've won three Kerth awards. Whereas - to   quote an Irish friend of my dad's - I've only   been there a wet weekend." Clark gave her a wry   smile as he slid into the passenger seat.

"If that mattered, I'd still be covering dog   shows, while Ralph got all the plum   assignments," Lois countered with a grin.

"I guess you're right." Clark flashed her a   smile, the same one which still made her feel   weak at the knees every time. It was just as   well she was sitting down - although, since she   was in the process of reversing the Jeep out of   a parking space, she had to ease her foot off   the accelerator for a moment while she regained   her composure.

It really was just as well that mind-reading   wasn't among Clark's many talents. She fully   intended to tell him how she felt about him -   well, at some point, anyway - but she had no   desire for him to know just how much she   already needed to be with him. How necessary   he'd already become to her happiness...

...and how much the whole thing scared her.

The conversation remained neutral as Lois   steered the Jeep through the Metropolis   streets, which were now getting darker as dusk   fell. Lois had no intention of discussing   anything personal until they were safely inside   her apartment, and she got the feeling that   Clark felt the same way. At any rate, he seemed   happy to continue chatting about the newsroom   reaction to their Luthor story and speculating   on what might happen at the arraignment.

Until, suddenly, he broke off in mid-sentence.

Lois jerked her head around to look at him   after a couple of seconds had gone by and he   still hadn't spoken. "Clark?"

Then she noticed the expression on his face...   distant, apparently listening, and desperately   torn.

"Someone's in trouble?" she asked.

He nodded. "Mugging - just a block away."

"Can you help without being seen?"

"I think so." His need to do something was   written all over his face.

"Go," she said instantly, pulling the Jeep over   to the kerb. "Meet me back at my apartment,   okay? I'll order pizza."

He opened the door and was out on the sidewalk   in under a second. "Thanks," he said briefly,   and then ducked into a nearby alley so quickly   she almost couldn't see him move.

Was this going to be the future of her   relationship with Clark? Lois wondered as she   pulled out into the road again and continued on   her way home. Both professional and personal?   Seeing him rush off to help people; seeing his   anguished expression when there was nothing he   could do? Comforting him afterwards if he   hadn't been able to save someone? - she already   knew Clark well enough to understand that the   immense reserves of compassion he possessed   would also make him very vulnerable.

And, if he did need to disappear from time to   time to rescue people, chances were that it   wouldn't always happen at the most convenient   times. It was quite probable that she might   frequently be left on her own when they were   supposed to be working - and in the   circumstances, she reflected, it was very   fortunate that Perry had partnered Clark with   her. At least she'd know why he had to leave;   she couldn't imagine anyone who wasn't aware of   the situation putting up with continuing   vanishing acts.

Yes; she knew why he'd be dashing off   occasionally, and that also meant that she   could cover for him. She'd probably better   start thinking up some good excuses!

*********

Dealing with the mugger was child's play. The   combination of the gloom of dusk and the dark   alley the mugger had dragged his victim into   meant that Clark was barely visible. He dragged   the young punk away from the woman victim, used   the kid's own belt to tie him to a lamp-post   and then told the woman to call the police. She   wanted to know who he was, of course, and to   thank him, and to ask if he'd be a witness for   her - and how he'd managed to pull her attacker   off her in the first place. But he didn't   answer any of her questions, simply stealing   away into the darkness once he was sure that   she was safe from further harm.

And then he took off, into the night sky,   heading for Lois's apartment.

He had somewhere to go; somewhere in the big   city where he was welcome.  Where his host knew   all about him - how he was different, and that   he might not be human - and she still wanted   his company. His companionship. Maybe even his   friendship.

He just hoped that he wouldn't blow it. Like   he'd blown it with Lana, by hoping for too   much.

Landing in an alley just along the street from   Lois's building, he checked Carter Avenue   carefully before emerging and hurrying up the   steps of No. 1058. Lois was already there, he   knew; he'd seen her Jeep parked outside.

"Hey." She opened the door wide in answer to   his knock. "Everything okay?"

He filled her in on his rescue of the woman,   and she patted his arm approvingly. "Nice work!   You weren't seen?" she added anxiously.

He shook his head. "Not so that I could be   identified. And I'm not sure anyone would   really believe that I did anything out of the   ordinary - if they noticed anything, they'll   probably convince themselves that it was no   more than their imagination."

"You're used to that, huh?"

He grinned. "I've had plenty of practice! But   sooner or later people started talking, and   they'd put things together until there were a   few reports of strange things happening, and   that was always when I had to move on."

"Well, this time you won't need to move   anywhere," Lois said firmly. "I've just found   the only partner I've ever been able to work   with, and there's no way on earth I'm going to   let you get away!"

"Thanks, Lois. I don't want to have to leave   either." Awkwardly, he moved further into the   apartment. This was the first time he and Lois   had been properly alone since the early hours   of the morning - when she'd thrown herself into   his arms and demanded that he kiss her.

The memory of that kiss was as fresh in his   mind as if it had only happened five minutes   ago.

And standing close to her, inhaling her sweet   fragrance, as completely aware of her as he   was, it was sheer torture trying to prevent   himself from reaching out to take her in his   arms again.

He still wasn't sure why she wanted to talk. He   knew that it was about *them*, but was he   wishing for the moon in longing for her to want   to pursue their wonderful kisses from last   night? How could she - how could any woman -   possibly want a relationship with someone like   him? A freak like him?

<Last night, you said you wouldn't assume   anything where she was concerned! So why are   you assuming she's going to reject you? Or,   worse still, thinking about making that   decision for her?>

Old habits died hard, Clark thought as he   turned to gaze out the window. He'd kept   himself distant from others at university:   making friendships, but avoiding any kind of   intimacy. No close friends, no girlfriends, and   definitely no lovers. He had no right, he'd   thought, to raise expectations in a woman - to   expect things of a woman - without telling her   the truth about himself. And then she'd reject   him anyway, so what was the point?

As for close friends, his fear there was that   if he got too close to someone, then sooner or   later he'd do something to betray himself. And   that was far too dangerous to contemplate.

So he was far too used to keeping his distance,   to avoiding relationships, and to assuming that   in any case no woman he was interested in would   be able to accept him the way he was.

Lois, on the other hand, knew what there was to   know about him. And she not only accepted it;   she seemed to revel in what he could do. So   didn't that suggest...?

A rap at the door broke into his thoughts.   Lois, he noticed as he turned back to her,   looked almost relieved at the interruption.   He'd been very impolite, he realised. He'd   practically ignored her for the past couple of   minutes, and he was pretty sure that he'd been   so lost in thought that he wouldn't even have   heard her if she'd spoken to him.

"That'll be the pizza," she told him, going to   answer the door. It was only then that he   noticed she had the table set with cutlery and   glasses; a couple of cans of diet soda were by   the glasses.

She'd ordered two pizzas; "I didn't know what   you like," she explained. "So this one's   pepperoni and the other one's a vegetable   supreme."

"They both sound good," he assured her.   "Thanks, Lois."

She shrugged. "It's only pizza."

"I don't mean that. For putting up with me," he   explained. "I haven't exactly been the perfect   guest so far."

"I guess you have a lot to think about," she   said casually. "I mean, you've been keeping   this big secret all your life, and now suddenly   someone else knows about it. And I want you to   go public with what you can do - and even if   it's in disguise, that kind of step can't be   easy for you."

Grateful for the distraction she provided, he   nodded. "You're telling me."

"It'll work out," she said confidently. "Now,   come and have some pizza."

Taking her lead, he sat down with her at the   table and they began to eat; to his relief, the   conversation stayed light and impersonal for a   few minutes. He let himself begin to relax.

"I dated a Planet reporter once before," Lois   said, her tone apparently idle, before picking   up another piece of pizza.

That `once before' struck Clark instantly; she   really did seem to be saying that she wanted   them to date. He tensed again. Of course he   wanted that too, but... She couldn't have   thought about it properly; he'd have to make   sure she understood exactly what it would mean,   he resolved again. But that thought got pushed   aside as he saw her expression. She seemed to   be making strenuous efforts to look casual, he   thought, but in her eyes there were shadows.   Remembered pain? he wondered.

"Oh?" was all he allowed himself to say. He   wanted to let her tell whatever story she had   to tell, in her own time. And, suddenly, he had   a feeling that he knew at least some of this   story; the newsroom gossip he'd done his best   to avoid hearing had made mention of a French   reporter, once upon a time.

"I was in my first year at the Planet - fresh   out of college, young, ambitious, but still too   idealistic," Lois went on. "I still believed   that everyone who worked at the Planet had the   same kind of - well, ethics as I did. That we   all believed in truth and integrity. Informing   the public as openly as we could. That while   advancing our own careers was good, we had a   greater loyalty to the paper. That... well, I   guess that we all worked on one big team.   Stupidly idealistic," she finished dryly.

"Not stupid, Lois," Clark corrected instantly.   "You believed in high standards - what's wrong   with that?"

"Oh, Clark, life's not like that, and we both   know it," she said with a wry shrug. "Anyway,   there was this guy - he was about ten years   older than me, and he was one of the paper's   stars. Front-page stories every couple of   weeks, got a number of the best assignments,   you know the type I mean."

"I know." Clark nodded.

"He was sort of a hero to me. I mean, I wanted   to be where he was. And he was a newsroom star   but, Clark, he wasn't standoffish. He always   smiled at me and asked how I was getting on. He   actually talked to me about what I was working   on - and then the kind of stories I was pulling   really was in the dog-show beat. But I was also   following another lead that Perry didn't know   about. I'd overheard something in a bar one   night about a scheme to pass off sweatshop-made   clothes as genuine designer goods. I was   checking it out, chasing down leads and I was   really getting somewhere. And I told Claude   about it."

He knew what was coming next. And suddenly, so   much fell into place for Clark. Why she'd been   so hostile when she'd discovered that he was a   reporter too. Why she'd been so insistent that   it was *her* story and he wasn't going to   muscle in on it. Why she'd tried to push him   out altogether. And why, once he'd been taken   on by Perry White, she'd been distant and   downright rude.

She'd been afraid that history was about to   repeat itself.

"He stole your story, didn't he?" he said   quietly.

The now-cold pizza lay forgotten on the table   between them. Lois nodded. "It was even better   than that. The first time I mentioned it to   him, he asked me out for a drink - he said we'd   have more time to talk in a social setting, and   he could give me some advice if I wanted. You   know, if I needed some tips on getting closer   to the people I needed, or how to approach   someone without giving away what I was up to.   So we went for a drink. And then he took me for   dinner - a romantic restaurant, soft lights,   the works - and he walked me home. He kissed   me, Clark. He didn't try to come in - he just   kissed me at the door, told me I was beautiful,   called me `ma cherie', and left. And... it felt   like a fairytale romance come true."

The only words which came to Clark's mind were,   he thought, better left unsaid. Silently, he   reached a hand across the table and covered   Lois's. She smiled at him.

"It's okay. I mean, this is ancient history   now. I just wanted to tell you so that you'd   understand," she assured him. "Anyway, over the   next couple of days I did a lot more work on my   story, and I found the last missing piece of   evidence. I wrote it all up - it was all ready   to bring to Perry. And I told Claude. And   that's when he moved in again. He said we   should go to dinner to celebrate. And he asked   me to bring my story - he said he was so proud   of me that he wanted to read it.

"So," she continued, "we went to dinner. That   same romantic restaurant. And he brought me   home. And this time he said he was coming in   for coffee so that he could read my story and   congratulate me on it. And he read it. He liked   it, I could tell. And then he kissed me. And -"   She broke off, this time looking angry, but   with herself, Clark sensed. "And he seduced me.   I woke up in the morning and he was gone, and   so was my story."

"He claimed it was his own work?" Clark asked,   knowing the answer.

"Yes. He took it to Perry, and it was printed   under his byline. I wanted to tell Perry that   it was mine, but how could I, Clark? I'd been   there less than a year. I was a junior - the   only stories I'd had printed were piddling   little court reports on things like speeding   and parking violations. There was no way that   Perry would have believed I'd written that   story. Especially as Claude took everything -   my notes, my list of contacts, everything I'd   used to write it. I had no proof that it was   mine."

Clark frowned. "Not even files on your   computer?"

"I didn't have a computer of my own then. In   the newsroom, I used any free terminal I could   get hold of - so I wrote up the story at home,   on an old portable typewriter. One of the first   things I did after that was to buy a personal   computer to use at home. They were even more   expensive then than they are now - but it was   worth it."

"So where's Claude now?" Clark asked. "I've   never heard the name...?"

"Oh, he got a better job in California. He won   a Kerth with my story -" Lois curled her lip   bitterly. "And he was inundated with offers. I   was glad he went. Not content with using me to   get my story, he then told most of the guys in   the newsroom that he'd got me into bed. And   that I wasn't worth more than the one night."   Her eyes glittered, and her hand clenched under   Clark's.

Feeling anger welling up inside him, Clark   said, "If you want, I can find him and teach   him a lesson for you."

She turned her hand so that she was touching   him, palm to palm. "No, Clark. It's not   important any more. I just needed to tell you,   that's all."

"So that I'd understand the way things were -   the way you reacted - when you found out who I   was," he said. "Yes, I understand. And it's   really not important."

"It is important," she said, contradicting him.   "But that's not the only reason why I needed to   tell you. I think you have something you need   to tell me too. About the reason why you can't   let yourself trust me when I say that I'm   attracted to you. The reason you assume that   because you're different no woman could ever   want to be with you. Don't you?"

Clark stared at her, dumbfounded at the way   she'd managed to turn the conversation around   to him in a matter of seconds. And at the fact   that she was right. But then, he should have   expected that of Lois Lane.

"Who was she, Clark? What did she do to you?"

**********

Part 18

She'd struck paydirt. His expression told her   that much, loud and clear.

It had only been a guess on her part to assume   that it was a woman. Though the clues had been   there, she thought: if he was assuming that no   woman could possibly be interested in Clark   Kent, freak and quite possibly alien, then that   was very probably because some woman in his   past had led him to believe precisely that.

He expected any woman he might be interested in   to reject him, because he wasn't normal - so   his strategy was to get in first. And that, of   course, was a strategy she was very familiar   with, since it was precisely what she'd done   ever since Claude.

Her sister Lucy had told her exactly what she   was doing, and why it was a crazy move. No man,   Lucy argued, would stick around with Lois   sending out so many `keep off' signals. But   then, Lois had thought, if they didn't stick   around, if they didn't try to find out what was   underneath the exterior, then they weren't   worth the effort.

Not that many men, in her experience, had been   worth the effort...

Except Clark.

She was very sure that Clark was different. Not   just because he was an outsider himself,   although the fact that he'd experienced   rejection meant that he could understand and   empathise with her own experiences. Not just   because he might be an alien. But because she'd   seen a streak of decency and goodness which ran   deep within him, which told her that he could   be trusted.

In her case, of course, she knew that he was   different, so he didn't have to avoid getting   too close in case she worked it out; but   because she knew, she guessed, he was expecting   her to reject him.

He had, she remembered now, told her last night   that if it was up to him there would definitely   be a `you and me'. She'd been half-asleep at   the time, so it probably wasn't too surprising   that she hadn't remembered that earlier.

So he did want a relationship with her. Just as   she did with him.

But, like her, he had insecurities to overcome.

Maybe he thought that her interest in him was   because he was a novelty? That she was just   indulging herself, finding out what the freak -   which was, she was sure, how he thought of   himself at least some of the time - was really   like, and taking advantage of his flying   skills?

Or, if he didn't think she was that self-  centred, maybe he really did think that she'd   want to walk away from him once she'd had time   to think about the consequences of being with   him. And he wanted to stop things now before he   got hurt.

She met his gaze again. He'd been silent ever   since she'd asked that last question.

He pulled a face. "Sorry, Lois. I was just..."   He seemed to falter.

"Too personal?" she asked quietly, feeling   disappointed; after all, she'd just told him   about things she'd told nobody else, ever. And   she'd done it in order to make him feel   comfortable about confiding in her. The least   he could do was return the compliment!

"No, it's not that." He smiled then, ruefully.   "I guess I was just wondering how you got to be   so perceptive."

"Comes with the territory, Clark," she teased.   "I am a reporter, after all."

"Yeah, I *think* I knew that," he replied with   a grin. "Anyway," he added more soberly,   "you're right. Something did happen - a woman.   Well, a girl, really. It was a long time ago."

"But obviously left scars," she said. It wasn't   a question.

Again, he was silent for a while. Then, slowly,   he said, "It shouldn't. That's why I guess I   feel foolish about talking about it. I mean,   your experience with Claude was at least recent   - you have every right to be wary. But me...   this was ten years ago!"

A little longer ago than she'd expected, but   still... "Clark, you were a teenager then! Of   course it hurt, whatever she did to you."

"Teenage angst, huh?" he murmured wryly. His   gaze fell to their now-ignored and cold pizza,   before he raised his head to look at her again.

"Her name was Lana. I'd known her more or less   all my life - well, when you grow up somewhere   like Smallville, there aren't a lot of   strangers. And her folks went to the same   church in town, so even though the family lived   in town I did run into her from time to time.   And then we ended up in the same high school -   there's a small elementary school the kids at   the outlying farms go to, and there's a couple   of junior highs in the town. But just one high   school."

He spoke in level tones, but for Lois his story   - and his voice - was none the less mesmerising   for all that. She already knew that she hated   Lana. How could any woman be cruel to this man?

"We started dating not long after we began high   school," he continued. "And it was great - I   mean, Lana was one of the prettiest girls in   the school, but that wasn't my main attraction   to her: I just liked her. She was fun to be   with. But because she was attractive, the other   guys were envious, and I kind of enjoyed that   at the time. And after a while we went steady -   I gave her my class ring and told her that I   loved her. She said she loved me too."

Typical teenage romance, of course. Lois had   been there herself. It all felt so real and   vital at the time, but of course the feelings   were usually immature and as such ephemeral.   Very few teenage romances lasted, but it could   be very painful, for one if not for both, when   they ended, as they inevitably did.

"At the time, my life seemed great in so many   ways. I mean, I had a gorgeous girlfriend who   loved me and I loved her. I'd made reserve on   the school football team with a great chance of   being promoted onto the team itself. I had a   lot of friends. But at the same time everything   was changing for me." He paused, a faraway   expression on his face.

"The thing that was so important about being   with Lana is that she made me feel normal,"   Clark continued, and now his voice was showing   signs of strain. "I was fifteen when we started   dating, and I felt at the time as if I was the   biggest freak around. For the previous couple   of years just nothing had been normal about me   - it felt as if I was discovering more and more   weird things every other week. Moving so fast   it felt as if I was teleporting, seeing through   walls, hearing things I should never have been   able to hear - I even set some straw alight   just by looking at it! And the scariest of all   was waking up in the middle of the night and   falling several feet down to the bed when I   realised I was floating."

Definitely scary stuff for a teenager, Lois   agreed silently, just giving Clark a   sympathetic nod. He didn't seem to need or want   her to speak.

Dating Lana, being in love with Lana and having   her love him back, had made him feel normal. It   had made him feel as if he did belong - that he   was just a normal kid, exactly like everyone   else.

"You know the way your body changes during   puberty?" Clark said, directing a question at   her for the first time. She nodded.

"I guess it's pretty scary for girls as well as   guys. Anyway, I was suddenly finding out all   these freakish things at the same time as my   body was... developing. And I was terrified   that these weird difference about me would soon   start to manifest in... well, in my appearance.   That I'd suddenly grow a second head, or shoot   up to about ten feet tall - I had a huge growth   spurt when I was fifteen, which didn't help. Or   something else equally weird - I'd seen Close   Encounters and ET, and the aliens there   *looked* alien. But there was V too - you know,   the TV series? That started when I was fifteen.   And there the aliens looked so *human*. Until   later, when you discovered that they weren't   after all - and then they didn't even look   human any more. I started wondering if that was   what I was going to end up looking like."

"And Lana made you feel normal?" Lois prompted.

"Being with her did, yeah," he agreed. "Don't   get me wrong - my parents were terrific through   all of this. They hated it when I called myself   a freak, and I stopped doing it around them   because I didn't want to hurt them - though it   didn't stop me thinking it. They told me over   and over that they loved me and they'd still   love me no matter what we discovered about me.   Whether I was from a laboratory or from Mars,   they didn't care - I was their son and that was   that. But to them I was different. They were   understanding about the things I did,   especially when accidents happened - I mean,   one day I was coming downstairs and the   banister shattered just because I put my hand   on it. Dad said it didn't matter, and that I'd   have to learn to understand my strength so I   could control it. He rebuilt the banister that   evening and got me to help him - he even let me   hammer in nails so that I could get used to   adjusting my strength to what was needed.   They're the very best parents I could possibly   have had," he finished emphatically.

"So what happened?" Lois asked, feeling that he   needed prompting to continue again.

"I started feeling that I wanted Lana to know   the truth about me. I needed to know that she   could accept me as I really was - not the   average kid, but a freak who might be from   another planet."

Lois winced again at Clark's repeated use of   `freak' to describe himself. But she remained   silent, allowing him to continue.

"I needed to know that. I mean, I loved her -   or I thought I did. I guess now that it was   just first love. She's married to someone else   now, and I wasn't even the tiniest bit jealous   when they announced their engagement. But, you   see, I believed that because I loved her, I   couldn't carry on deceiving her, not telling   her everything about me. And I thought that   because she loved me she'd accept it." He   shrugged. "The na‹ve certainty of a teenager!"

"And she rejected you?" Lois said; she was   absolutely certain of that. And she wanted to   tear Lana limb from limb for what she'd done to   the hopeful teenager Clark Kent had been.

"I didn't tell her," he said, and she could   hear the relief in his voice.

"You changed your mind?" That didn't make   sense. From the way he'd been behaving - and   the way he'd reacted to her initial question -   it had seemed obvious that this Lana must have   rejected him.

"Sort of. Do you remember Starman? The movie?"

"Jeff Bridges and what's her name? About this   alien who inhabits a human body and the wife of   the man whose body he has who tries to shelter   him from the police and FBI?" Things were   starting to fall into place for Lois. There   weren't exactly a lot of parallels between   Clark's situation and that of the Starman, but   there were a few superficial similarities.

"Yeah. I took Lana to see it. I thought it   might be a good way of starting the   conversation - you know, asking her what she   would've done in Karen Allen's position. I   guess I expected her to take the romantic line   and say that she'd have fallen in love with him   right from the start. Stupid, huh?" Clark said,   shaking his head.

"No; actually, it sounds like a very good way   of broaching it," Lois said immediately. "So...   she didn't say what you were expecting?"

He shook his head again. "Made it clear she'd   want to turn him in as soon as possible. And   then get the heck out of Dodge."

"Ah." That explained it all, then. Okay,   teenagers could be thoughtless, but still...   "How old was she?"

"Sixteen," he answered. "And before you say it,   I know that she was just a kid still. Teenagers   think they know it all, and it's only when we   get older that we realise how little we know,   and we lose a lot of our prejudices. I don't   feel angry at Lana now for saying what she   said. It just... taught me a valuable lesson."

"Don't expect a woman to accept you as you are.   Don't believe that you can have a real   relationship with a woman. Don't ever believe   that a woman could love you if she knows the   full truth about you," Lois said. "Is that it?"

His expression gave her the answer she was   expecting.

"Including me?" she asked.

He stood, walking away from the table. She   should have felt shut out, but somehow his   expression told her that it wasn't her he was   distancing himself from. His thoughts? His   desires? She wasn't sure.

Gazing out the window, he said quietly, a note   of longing in his voice, "Lois, there is   nothing I want more than to have you in my life   - to love you and to have you love me back. I   want to believe that it's possible - that you   can look past my weirdness and accept me for   the person I am - "

"Clark, I can! I do!" Lois exclaimed, getting   to her feet and coming towards him.

He turned to look at her, and pain blazed from   his expression. "I want to believe that, Lois.   But... it terrifies me. I'm afraid that I'll   let you into my heart and then you'll realise   that you can't live with the way I am, and   you'll dump me." He gestured helplessly with   his hands. "I know I'm probably sounding like a   stupid, insecure neurotic... but it's kind of   hard to overcome ten years of conditioning." He   gave her a weak smile.

"Do you think I don't know that?" Lois told   him. "I told you about Claude, but I never   mentioned the guy at college who slept with me   and then dumped me for my best friend, or the   way my father always made it clear - still   does! - that I don't live up to his   expectations of me. I find it pretty hard to   trust men not to abandon me or treat me badly.   And yet... I'm willing to try trusting you,"   she finished, then held her breath.

"I'm being an idiot, aren't I?" he said with a   wry smile, then took a step towards her,   reaching for her hands and holding them tightly   in his. "Lois, I want to be with you. And I   want to try trusting you too," he said softly.

Lois stifled a gasp. She'd hoped that being   more honest still with him might make him   rethink, but she hadn't expected this sort of   progress so soon. "Clark... I want to be with   you too. And I know it sounds crazy - it feels   crazy to me too, seeing as we've only known   each other less than two weeks, but that's the   way I feel about you. And I want us to give it   a chance."

"Then we'll make each other a promise," he   said, his voice little louder than a murmur.   "We will trust each other. We won't just make   assumptions about each other and act on them.   If we get scared or insecure, we'll talk to   each other about it. And we'll remember first   and foremost that we trust each other. Okay?"

"Sounds good to me," Lois said shakily, moved   to the core by the sincerity in Clark's voice   and the emotion in his eyes.

He bent his head, and their lips met in another   soul-stirring kiss.

********

Yes, he'd been an idiot, and because of it he'd   almost thrown away a chance of happiness with   the most wonderful woman he'd ever met.

Lois wanted to be with him. With *him*. And   he'd almost walked away from her.

Almost. Until she'd talked sense into him and   reminded him that he shouldn't let past   experience prejudice him - and that she would   be taking a risk with him too.

And when it came to a kiss, there was no other   possible choice. How could he walk away from   this? How could he miss the opportunity to hold   Lois in his arms and kiss her until they were   both breathless?

He couldn't. It was as simple as that. To walk   away from Lois now would be like walking away   from life.

Her kisses tasted faintly of pizza, as, he was   sure, did his. Her arms were around his neck,   fingers playing with his hair. And he held her   pressed against him, her soft, slender body   moulding itself against him as if nature had   intended it to be there.

Nature probably had.

Clark didn't believe in pre-destiny, or   soulmates, or anything of that nature. And   yet... and yet...

How could he *not* believe that he and Lois   were meant to be together?

He should have known from the moment of their   first kiss.

He'd kissed other women since Lana, of course.   Mostly in circumstances where the woman had   seemed to expect it and to refuse would have   seemed impolite. The kisses had never aroused   any reaction in him; at most, a kind of mild   pleasure, but very transient and never enough   to make him want to repeat the experience.

No, he'd never been at all tempted to go back   on his pledge, after Lana, to avoid a deeper   relationship with a woman. Actually, adhering   to his vow hadn't been a sacrifice at all, he   now accepted. Until Lois, he'd never met a   woman who'd made him *want* to try again.

Until Lois.

And with Lois he wanted everything.

********

Much later, Lois closed her apartment door   behind Clark and padded, yawning and dazed,   into her bedroom. It was late, later than   either of them had realised when they'd finally   emerged from their kiss-dazed embrace. Not that   she regretted even a second of the time she'd   spent in Clark's arms tonight!

She'd never known a man like Clark before.   She'd never before known a man who could make   her melt with just a touch. A man whose smile   had the power to make her heart flutter. Whose   voice, especially when lowered in that soft,   husky tone he'd used a few times tonight, set   her stomach atilt.

Deciding to tell Clark all about Claude hadn't   been easy - but it had been well worth it. That   was a story which she'd kept to herself ever   since it had happened. People at the Planet   just thought that she'd fallen for the   Frenchman's smooth lines and thrown herself at   him, foolish enough to believe that he might   actually be interested in more than the   obvious. No-one else knew the full truth; not   even her sister. She'd never told Perry, mainly   because now she felt extremely foolish for   having allowed herself to be taken in by such a   smooth operator. How could she have possibly   believed that a reporter of Claude's standing   would seriously have been interested in a   junior reporter like her?

But she'd known that she needed to find out   exactly what was behind Clark's reluctance to   start a relationship with her. He wanted her.   He was attracted to her; she'd known that   beyond question. And yet something had been   stopping him, and she'd got the impression that   it had something to do with being unsure that   it was what she really wanted.

Insecurity. Fear of rejection.

She'd recognised those feelings in Clark -   hardly surprising, since they were reactions   she'd been fighting in herself for years.

So, as an inducement to get Clark to tell her   what was behind his fear, she'd decided that   the best way was to explain the circumstances   in her own past which had made her wary of men   and relationships.

It had been a relief when he'd been so   understanding, so outraged on her behalf. Even   though she'd told herself that Clark would   never condemn her for being so stupidly taken   in, a part of her had still feared something   along the lines of the behind-her-back jeers   and scorn of other male inhabitants of the   newsroom. Or the salacious looks and fake come-  on lines they'd given her to her face.

If she'd talked about Claude sooner, Lois now   realised, the incident - his treatment of her -   would never have had the power to dictate her   life and her relationships for so long. If   she'd told someone she trusted long ago - Lucy,   Perry, maybe even Cat who, she'd learned some   time later from Jimmy, had surprisingly come to   Lois's defence when the men had been discussing   her behind her back. If she'd told someone   sooner, and they'd reacted as Clark had,   blaming Claude and reassuring her that she   wasn't stupid or wrong for having been taken   in, she might have been able to put it behind   her long ago.

And, she suspected, the same might very   possibly be true of Clark. She wished she'd   thought to ask him whether he'd told his   parents about that incident with Lana. Somehow,   from what he'd told her of his parents -   Jonathan and Martha Kent, farmers from   Smallville, Kansas, and according to Clark the   most loving and generous people he'd ever known   - Lois was sure that if he had told them,   they'd have convinced him not to judge the   world by the actions of one silly teenage girl.

She hoped he'd at least gone some way towards   accepting the truth of that now.

Lois yawned as she began to undress. Tomorrow,   she remembered. Tomorrow, Clark was taking her   to Smallville. They had to go to work in the   morning, to check up on any further   developments in the Luthor case and write them   up for publication. Perry had let them have the   afternoon off, and Clark was flying her to   Smallville.

So that she could help his mother design a   costume for him - a disguise.

So that she could meet his parents.

In the act of brushing her teeth, she halted   abruptly.

What on earth would Jonathan and Martha Kent   think of this strange city woman who'd forced   her way into their son's life, had caused him   to tell her secret, dangerous things about   himself and who now wanted him to use his   abilities openly? Had Clark told them anything   about her previously? Had he mentioned how   downright mean she'd been to him when he'd   first joined the Planet? Did they know that   she'd tried to steal his story?

If they did, they'd hate her.

And why wouldn't they hate her anyway?   According to Clark, they'd advised him to keep   his abilities a secret, for his own sake and   for those who loved him. She alone had   persuaded him to go public. That meant that   they would be in danger.

They'd see her as interfering, someone who had   no right to intrude in their family. She'd   known Clark only two weeks, and already she was   telling him how to live his life, suggesting   that he make major changes to it.

They would hate her.

She spat into the sink, her actions seeming to   mirror her thoughts.

If she was sensible, she wouldn't go. She'd   tell Clark that he didn't need her; that he and   his mother would manage just as well without   her. In fact, they'd probably manage better -   after all, what did she know about sewing and   outfit-making and about what fabrics would go   together? Not to mention which fabrics would be   durable enough to withstand the kind of   treatment they'd probably get from `Superman' -   assuming Clark agreed to the name.

No. She'd tell Clark that she'd changed her   mind. He could go alone - it wasn't as if he   really needed her anyway. It would be better   that way, and she was sure that his parents   would prefer it.

That decided, Lois climbed into bed, snapped   off the light and went to sleep.

********

Part 19

"That's Smallville, down there." Clark pointed   in the direction of his home town. He was both   nervous and excited at the prospect of   introducing Lois to his parents and, if they   had time, showing her around a little. He could   borrow the farm truck and take her into town   later that evening, perhaps.

If she wanted to. She'd been strangely   reluctant to come with him after all.

As they'd gathered their things together to   leave the Planet, Clark had said that he'd come   by her apartment in half an hour or so. She'd   looked hesitant, then said, "You don't really   need me there, do you?"

Taken aback, he'd said, "I guess not... but I   was hoping that you wanted to come..." Despite   all his efforts to prevent it, Clark hadn't   been able to keep the disappointment entirely   out of his tone.

He'd seen her bite her lip. Then she'd taken a   deep breath. "Okay. I'll be ready."

Now, scanning the area to ensure that it was   safe for him to dip lower, Clark wondered again   what it was which had made her have second   thoughts. Was she changing her mind about him?

But then he made himself remember the promises   they'd made to each other the previous evening.   About trust. And about not making assumptions.   He owed it to her to trust her, and so he would   do that.

"So." Her voice seemed a little shaky. "What   did you tell your parents about me coming?"

"Umm..."

To tell the truth - and he wasn't sure that he   wanted to tell Lois, though he recognised that   he was going to have to - he hadn't.

"Yes?" Now her tone was sharp; irritation - or   anxiety?

"Uh... well, I didn't exactly tell them..."

"You didn't... exactly... tell them what?" Lois   demanded, and now he could definitely identify   her tone as anxious.

"That I was bringing you with me," Clark   confessed. He stopped flying and simply   floated, far enough above land that they   couldn't be seen.

"Wha-? Clark, take me home *this minute*!" Lois   yelled.

Why hadn't he anticipated that she would be as   nervous about her meeting his parents as he   was? Maybe even more so.

"I'm sorry, Lois," he said instantly. "I didn't   tell them I was bringing you because it   would've meant telling them over the phone that   you know about me. And that wasn't a   conversation I wanted to have over the phone."

"Because they're going to hate that you've told   me," she said flatly.

He tightened his arms around her. "No. They   won't. Lois, my parents trust me. I know they   want me to find someone to love, to trust -   someone I can be myself with. And..." He   hesitated, then decided that however nervous he   was about saying it aloud, Lois needed to hear   it. "And in you I've found that person. And I   need them to know that. Trust me, they'll be   delighted. And they'll love you."

"So why not tell them?" Now her voice was more   subdued. Her expression showed pleasure and   relief at his avowal, but she was clearly still   nervous.

"Because I'd prefer to explain everything face   to face, that's all. Relax, Lois, it's not a   problem," he assured her.

"I'll believe that when I see it," she   muttered, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Come on. Let's get down there - you'll see I'm   right," he insisted with a grin.

*********

Sure. And maybe next she'd be the one   developing flying powers, Lois thought   sardonically.

She could see the farm spread out beneath them   now as Clark lost altitude, preparing to land.   Lois had never been very keen on farms; she   associated them with dirt, mud and unpleasant   smells. Put that together with the hostility   Clark's parents would undoubtedly have towards   her and she was in for a terrible time.

But it was too late to back out now. Clark had   just touched down in what looked like a back   yard and he was letting her slide to the   ground. She looked nervously at the door just   ahead, but then Clark took her hand, squeezing   it warmly.

"Lois," he said softly. "Trust me. I wouldn't   have brought you if I hadn't thought my parents   would love you."

"But they must know... you must have told them   about the way I treated you..." she protested.

His free hand came up and he stroked the back   of his fingers against her cheek. "I also told   them that we're partners. And that all that   stuff in the beginning was just a   misunderstanding. That I think you're   wonderful."

Lois's eyes widened. "When did you tell them   that?" Clark thought she was wonderful. A warm   glow spread through her. Though she thought he   was pretty wonderful too - well, apart from   when he did something like springing her on his   parents unannounced.

"When I called them last night," he explained.   "I told them I was coming and that I had some   important stuff to discuss with them - and I   also told them about Lex Luthor and about Perry   teaming us up."

"Okay." Well, maybe his parents wouldn't throw   her out before Clark had even finished   introducing her, she thought. "Well... I guess   we'd better..." She gestured towards the   farmhouse.

"Wait." He tugged on her hand, drawing her back   to him.

"What?"

"This." The word was whispered against her lips   as his head descended. And then all thoughts of   nervousness fled as she parted her lips for   Clark's kiss.

He hadn't kissed her all day; when he'd come to   pick her up, they'd left immediately. She'd   felt just a little neglected, and she hadn't   been able to help wondering whether he was   having second thoughts about their relationship   again. Surely he wasn't still thinking that she   wouldn't want to be with him because of his   differences? She'd thought that she'd managed   to talk him out of that, and yet...

But it seemed as if she'd been worrying for   nothing. Clark's kiss was hungry, and his arms   were wrapped securely around her, holding her   against him loosely but possessively. She   returned his kiss gladly, loving the way it   made her feel.

Loving the way that being in love with Clark   made her feel.

All too soon, he drew back. "I guess we'd   better go in."

"In?" Lois blinked, momentarily confused as she   opened her eyes again.

Clark grinned ruefully. "Yeah - my folks'   place. Remember?"

"Yeah. I remember." Lois took a deep breath.   "Okay, lead the way."

Taking her hand again, Clark led her up to the   back door, knocking once as he opened it and   strode in. The door led to a kitchen unlike any   Lois had ever been in before. This wasn't a   kitchen fitted out with all modern conveniences   and seemingly purely for show. Nor was it a   basic, functional kitchen whose user spent as   little time in it as possible, doing little   more than warming up food in the microwave or   cooking `short-cut' meals.

It was a kitchen which people actually lived   in: cooked, ate, talked and behaved as a   family. It looked like the well-loved centre of   family life; the aroma of good cooking still   lingered, and the coffee-pot on the large pine   table hinted at a meal not long finished, at   which the diners had lingered for a few minutes   over coffee and conversation. On the walls   there were pictures; not designer art or   expensive posters, but what were clearly family   photographs and child-like drawings.

This was a home.

Clark might have some lingering insecurities   from his late childhood, but he'd clearly grown   up with loving parents in a homely environment.   And Lois couldn't help envying him.

The kitchen door opened suddenly, and a woman   of about Lois's own height, or a little   shorter, came in. She seemed to be in her mid   to late fifties, with casually-styled blonde   hair and a welcoming expression. "Clark! I   thought I heard you!" she called cheerfully as   she entered the room.

Then she halted. "Clark? You didn't say you   were bringing a friend." There was surprise in   her tone, but not, Lois noted, hostility or   even any sense that the unexpected visitor was   unwelcome.

"Sorry, Mom." Clark's tone was easy; casual. He   went to his mother, hugging her warmly before   continuing. "It would've meant explaining how   Lois was going to get here, and I wanted to   tell you all about that here, not over the   phone. Mom, this is Lois Lane, my partner from   the Planet - and my friend. Lois, my mom -   Martha Kent."

"Lois, it's lovely to meet you!" Clark's mother   exclaimed, coming right over and holding out   both hands. "Clark's told us so much about   you!"

Lois blinked at the warm welcome. "He has? And   you still let me in the house?"

Clark's mother chuckled. "Oh, Lois, anyone who   my son calls both brilliant and stubborn has to   have something going for her! And anyway, he   told us last night that, whatever happened when   you first knew each other, you'd become   friends. That's enough for me. And besides,"   she added with a smile, "Clark wouldn't have   told you about himself unless you were special.   Oh, of course he's told you!" she added   quickly, obviously seeing both Lois and Clark's   puzzled expressions in response. "You must have   flown here with him."

"I did," Lois confirmed.

"Well, how else would she get here?" Clark said   with a grin. "I'll explain how she knows later,   when Dad's around, okay?"

"Sure." She smiled at her son, then turned back   to Lois. "And you're very welcome. I'm just   thrilled to meet you!"

Lois bit her lip. "But I was so mean to   Clark..."

Martha Kent smiled. "But you told him you were   sorry, didn't you? I'm sure you did. So it   doesn't matter now, does it? Come on in - you   will have some coffee, won't you? Clark, would   you go and call your father? He's in the barn."

And, just like that, Clark's mother had managed   to separate her son from the woman he'd brought   to the family home, Lois thought in stunned   admiration as Mrs Kent ushered her further into   the kitchen and Clark disappeared out through   the door. Now it would come, she was sure. Now,   she'd be interrogated about her attitude to   Clark and in particular towards his secret.

Well, a pre-emptive strike might well be the   best tactic here...

"Mrs Kent, I know what you're thinking," Lois   began, pasting a confident but friendly smile   on her face and hoping that her nervousness   wasn't obvious. "Just who is this woman who's   got her hooks into Clark? And is she planning   on splashing everything about him all over the   front page of the Planet?"

But Martha Kent turned a placid smile on Lois.   "Call me Martha, please. And no, of course not!   I know that Clark would never have brought you   here if he'd thought you'd do that. He's told   us that you're his friend, and that's all there   is to it. Now, how do you like your coffee?"

"Uh - low-fat milk and artificial sweetener,"   Lois answered, feeling completely off-balance.

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear; we only have whole milk!"   Martha apologised. "I'll have to make sure we   have some for the next time you come."

There would be a next time? "Black will be   fine, Martha. Thank you."

The coffees poured, Martha produced some home-  made cookies and invited Lois to sit at the   large table. Joining her, the older woman then   said, "So what do you think about who Clark   might be?"

Martha Kent didn't believe in beating around   the bush, Lois thought, trying not to show her   surprise. But then, that was usually her   preferred way of dealing with things when she   was investigating or interviewing someone for a   story, so she could cope with that, she   thought. "He told me he doesn't know - that he   could be an experiment or even from another   planet."

Martha nodded. "And what do you think?"

"I really have no idea." Taken aback again,   Lois shook her head. "I don't know much about   genetics - my father's a doctor and a   scientist, and he's done some work in that   field, but more recently he's specialised in   robotics. I guess some of what Clark can do   could be explained by robotic technology, but   not the flying. As for aliens from another   planet... I never believed in extra-  terrestrials," she said slowly. "But then, I   never believed that a man could fly, or start   fires with his eyes, either."

"That's true," Martha agreed. "It was a shock   to all of us when Clark found that he could do   things like that. I remember the day he set his   homework on fire."

Lois giggled; she was about to ask for more   details, but Martha spoke again.

"Does it bother you that he's different? That   he might not be human?"

Did it bother Clark's parents? That thought   hadn't occurred to Lois before, and yet now she   wondered... Why would Martha have brought the   subject up, otherwise?

"No," Lois said firmly, looking her host   directly in the eye. "Clark is... Clark. He's a   wonderful, warm, kind, thoughtful, intelligent,   sensitive and funny man. He has some amazing   talents and abilities - abilities which would   allow him to rule the world if he wanted to,   and yet all he wants to do is help. And live a   normal life. He's the most special man I've   ever met, and I'm proud to call him my friend.   And my partner. And I'll do everything I can to   protect him from anyone who would want to harm   him just because he's different."

A brilliant, joyful smile broke out on Martha's   face. "Oh, Lois, honey, I knew you were just   the woman Clark needs!"

Lois blinked. "I am? I mean, yes, I hope I am,   but...?"

"Lois, Clark was hurt badly, years ago, by a   young woman - not much more than a girl, really   - who couldn't accept him as he was. His father   and I have always been terrified that it might   happen again: that he'd find someone and fall   in love, and have her reject him. I needed to   know that you wouldn't do that, Lois."

"You knew about Lana?" Lois asked, taken aback.   She'd thought Clark had said his parents hadn't   known...

"Of course we knew! Oh, Clark never told us the   details, but we could work it out. Or at least   some of it. We never knew exactly what he'd   told her about himself, or if he'd told her   anything at all. But we did know that somehow   he'd found out that she would never accept his   differences. And it hurt him deeply. For a long   time, Jonathan and I were afraid that he'd   never let himself fall in love again. And   then... well, then he met you, and even when he   was telling us how unwelcoming you were to him,   it was obvious that you were breaking through   his defences, Lois. That's why I was so pleased   to see you here today."

Amazed, Lois could only stare at Martha.

"If you can teach Clark to love again, and   persuade him that you really do love him too -   just as he is - you'll make me very happy,   Lois."

"But... how do you know I...?" Lois was almost   lost for words.

"How do I know that you love my son, Lois?"   Martha smiled again. "It was there in every   word you said about him just a minute ago. It   was there in your eyes, too. You're not going   to deny it, are you?"

Shaking her head, Lois said, "No. And... I   think - I hope - he's already learning to love   again."

Martha reached across the table, squeezing   Lois's hand briefly. "I think Clark's chosen   much more wisely this time. Welcome to the   family, Lois."

*********

"Hi, Dad."

Jonathan Kent, busily engaged in repairing a   partition, turned to smile at his son. "Clark!   It's good to see you."

"Want a hand?" Clark moved to stand beside his   father, assessing the damage. "What happened?"

He knew only too well that he'd been sent   outside primarily to allow his mother the   opportunity to get to know Lois without him   around, and as such he might as well make   himself useful. And in any case, he could do   this sort of work far more quickly than his   father.

"Had to replace a few supports," Jonathan   explained. "Woodworm."

"Okay, stand back." Clark grinned, then took   the nails from his father. Two seconds later,   all of them had been banged in and the   partition was securely in place.

Jonathan grinned in response. "I've missed   having you around the farm, son!"

Clark embraced him. "I miss being here too. But   - "

"But your life's not here. I know that. Once we   started to discover your talents, I knew you'd   never be happy running  a small farm in the   country," his father said fondly.

Clark shrugged. "I love the farm, Dad, and it's   nothing to do with these abilities of mine - "

"Didn't mean those." Jonathan started to tidy   away his tools. "You're book-intelligent and   college-educated, son. And you love writing.   And finding things out - exploring,   investigating. You're not the kind of person   who'd be happy living here his whole life. And   that's just fine. You know your mom and I are   so proud of you. Working at the Daily Planet   and all - and we saw those front-page articles   you had the past couple of days with Lois Lane.   You've shown her that you're as good as her any   day."

"But I don't want to compete with Lois, Dad,"   Clark said softly. "We're friends. And we're   partners now, too. I couldn't be happier about   the way things have worked out."

Jonathan gave Clark a broad smile. "So your   mother was right!"

"Huh?"

"After you called us last night, your mom said   you're in love with this Lois."

Clark returned his father's grin with a   sheepish one of his own. "I can't hide anything   from you guys, can I?"

"Well, the thing you most need to remember is   that those eyes in the back of her head we   always told you your mom had haven't gone away   just because you grew up," Jonathan said in   deadpan tones.

Clark burst out laughing. "Yeah, I never could   fool Mom!" Sobering, he added softly, "And Lois   loves me too. That's what amazes me. She knows   everything about me - what I can do, what I   might be -"

Jonathan looked up from his tidying. "You told   her?" He sounded worried, and Clark nodded,   hastening to reassure him.

"I needed to. Don't worry - she won't tell   anyone. I trust her absolutely. And I'm glad I   told her, Dad! She doesn't have a problem with   any of it. In fact, she's had some pretty   terrific ideas. *And*, better still, she still   loves me, regardless of what I am."

Having finished tidying, his father   straightened. Giving Clark a straight look, he   said, in an innocent-sounding tone which didn't   fool Clark for an instant, "And why wouldn't   she?"

"Dad, you know why!" he said, sighing. "Who the   heck would really want to be with someone like   me? A freak?"

"Clark!" Jonathan interrupted, sounding   irritated. "How many times have we told you   that you're *not* a freak? I really wish you   wouldn't use that word. You know your mom hates   it."

"Yeah, I know." Clark smiled. "Don't worry,   Dad; I think I'm finally getting over all that   stuff. Lois has a lot to do with that. She   doesn't like me calling myself a freak either."   He grinned. "And she thinks that what I can do   is great. She loves flying with me - and she   says I'm a great asset as a partner." He   winked. "I think she likes me, too. I mean," he   added, almost shyly, "she *really* likes me."

His father patted him warmly on the back. "Like   I said, why wouldn't she? Anyway, you coming   into the house? I bet your mom has fresh coffee   made by now."

She and Lois would probably be on their second   cup, Clark thought with an inward grin. He'd   had no real qualms about leaving Lois alone   with his mother; Lois was well capable of   holding her own, and he was confident that his   mother would like her.

"Oh, by the way, Lois is here, Dad," he said as   they headed towards the barn door. "She's in   the kitchen with Mom."

"She's here?!" Jonathan did a double-take. "And   you left her with your mom? You know Martha   will have your baby photos out by now, don't   you?"

"Oh, heck," Clark muttered. "Let's get in   there, then!"

**********

"...and so I made him tell me everything," Lois   finished.

"Well, I did try to come up with more excuses,"   Clark added quickly, with a sheepish grin. "But   it was clear that Lois wasn't going to believe   them. I can tell you, I was pretty scared that   she was going to write about me in the   Planet... but I misjudged her there."

"That'll teach you to jump to conclusions,   Kent." Lois jabbed her forefinger into his   upper arm and grinned at him.

Martha, smiling broadly, watched the interplay   between her adopted son and his girlfriend.   She'd been waiting for years to see something   like this. Clark was in love, and Lois loved   him right back. It was just wonderful to see.

For a long time, Martha had worried that Clark   would never let his guard down again   sufficiently to get close to a woman. She'd   been afraid that he would never allow himself   to fall in love.

Lana had really done a number on him, all those   years ago, she mused. Not that Martha blamed   the teenage girl Lana had been. After all, at   that age kids often said or did hurtful things   without having any idea of the real pain caused   as a consequence.

She had no real idea of what had actually   transpired between Clark and Lana, but she was   pretty sure that Clark hadn't actually got as   far as telling Lana about himself. Lana's own   behaviour, her obvious puzzlement when Clark   had begun to withdraw from the relationship,   had told Martha that. But it had been equally   clear that something Lana had either said or   done had given Clark reason to believe that she   couldn't accept him as he really was.

Clark had become withdrawn and reluctant to   discuss his abilities. He'd tried to suppress   what he could do, to the point of denying that   he was discovering the ability to levitate.   When he'd had an accident by failing to control   his strength, he'd pretended that the mishap   had nothing to do with him and that the fact   that he was surrounded by shards of ceramic had   everything to do with the mug being faulty.

And when he'd graduated from college and set   off around the world, Martha had just known   that he'd kept people at arms' length. Oh, he'd   made friends - Clark was too good-natured and   warm-hearted for that not to be the case - but   she knew that he'd never let anyone get close.   Not close enough for any kind of intimacy,   either emotional or physical.

And now, with the entrance of Lois Lane into   Clark's life, all of that seemed to have   changed.

Clark, for the first time in his life, had   opened up to someone other than his parents.   He'd taken a leap of faith where Lois was   concerned, and it had been fully justified;   Lois had returned his trust with her own, and   with her love.

It didn't hurt that they looked wonderful   together too, Martha thought in satisfaction.   They were so sweet, holding hands under the   table - and she was very sure that it never   occurred to either of them that she or Jonathan   knew that was what they were doing. And they   kept exchanging secret, meaningful smiles; if   they were alone, they'd have been kissing by   now.

Actually, she mused, perhaps it was time that   she hauled Jonathan out of the kitchen on some   pretext for a few minutes; it was hardly fair   on the two love-birds to make them be on their   best behaviour for this long.

She was about to suggest such an excuse when   Clark spoke again.

"Mom, Dad, the other thing we wanted to talk to   you about is that Lois has had a terrific idea!   She thought of a way I can use my abilities to   help people, without giving away who I am."

"Really?" Martha thought that Jonathan sounded   sceptical, and she wasn't really surprised. If   there was a way in which Clark could use the   gifts he'd been given to do good, that was   wonderful, in her opinion. But she was well   aware of the unwanted attention, the suspicion   and undoubted danger which would follow if it   became known that Clark Kent could do these   amazing things. She and Jonathan would be in   danger, and Clark would never be able to have   the normal life he craved.

"Yeah," Lois replied. "See, I was thinking...   what he needs is a disguise. Some sort of   uniform, so that people associate him with the   uniform and not... well, himself. You know the   way when a traffic cop stops you, all you see   is the cop's uniform - you rarely even notice   his face."

Martha stifled a grin; was Lois frequently   stopped by traffic cops, then? But her idea was   interesting... in fact, it just might work...

"So, you mean that Clark just needs some sort   of eye-catching uniform... What about a mask?   Or a hood?"

Lois shook her head adamantly. "No. Nothing   like that. If he wears a mask, that tells   everyone that there's someone under the mask.   It says there's a secret that he's hiding, and   everyone will want to know what that is - *who*   he is. As long as Clark doesn't try to hide his   face, then no-one will think that he might have   something to hide."

"Interesting..." Martha murmured. And Lois did   have a point. But...

"Yeah, but he'd be recognised immediately,   wouldn't he?" Jonathan objected, voicing   Martha's fear.

"Not necessarily," Lois disagreed. "Look."

She got to her feet and, standing beside Clark,   pulled off his glasses. As she did so, he   turned and smiled up at her; that smile made   Martha glad that she was sitting down. It was   full of love and admiration, and the kind of   trust she'd been afraid that Clark would never   be able to feel.

With one hand, Lois swept Clark's hair back   from his forehead. "If Clark slicks his hair   back, like this, and without his glasses...   well, what do you think?"

Clark looked directly at his parents, his   expression becoming authoritative - mimicking   the way he would behave when in his uniform?   And Lois was right: he looked so unlike her son   that Martha was amazed.

"You could be a completely different person,   son," Jonathan said slowly. "You know, this   could just work..."

"It *will* work," Lois insisted. "And don't   forget, I can help to make sure it does. We   both can. Clark and I are reporters. We work   for the Daily Planet - one of the best papers   in the country, if not the best. And if we   write about Superman as if we have no idea who   he is and that being Superman is all that he   is, that'll set the tone for other coverage."

"Superman?" Martha queried. She noticed that   Clark had rolled his eyes at the name.

"Well, that's what I came up with as a name,"   Lois explained. "He needs a name - and I can't   really see Clark coming up with anything for   himself. Sorry, Clark," she added, patting his   arm, a gesture which made Martha smile.

"Yes, I could!" Clark objected.

Martha stood up, deciding not to let the two of   them continue the argument. "Well, if you need   some sort of costume, or uniform... I guess you   want me to get my sewing machine out?"

"Thanks, Mom," Clark said gratefully. "I was   thinking something tasteful in maybe dark   blue?"

*********

Part 20

Clark looked ruefully down at the clingy electric-blue Spandex in which he was now clad.

This was tasteful?

Well, he had to agree with his mother and Lois   that there was little chance that anyone would   be looking at his face. It was exactly where   they'd be looking instead which worried him.

Superman.

That was who he was now.

He still didn't care for the name; it sounded   far too egotistical for his liking. But Lois   liked it, and his mom seemed to agree. And once   she'd brought out that odd stylised S-emblem   from his baby blanket, it had been settled. He   was Superman.

The clinginess of the costume embarrassed him,   and the cape felt weird. But both his parents   and Lois had exclaimed in delight over it, so   he supposed it must be okay.

"You really think I won't be recognised?" he   asked again, still worried about that aspect.

"Not a chance, Clark," Lois insisted. "You   don't look anything like Clark Kent, reporter   for the Daily Planet. Or even Clark Kent of   Smallville, I guess. You look... well, it's   strange, but dressed like this you look taller,   more commanding... distant, as if you could be   very intimidating. Yeah, especially when you   look at me like that," she added, laughing as   he frowned in her direction.

"Okay, I guess the major test will be the first   time I use the outfit," he said wryly. "I just   hope it works!"

"It will," Lois said confidently. "Trust me!"

"It'll work, son," his father said. "Lois is   right - you don't look anything like yourself."

"Thanks, Mom." Clark went to his mother and   hugged her warmly. "I really appreciate all the   trouble you've gone to."

Martha shrugged. "I enjoyed doing it! And I   can't wait to see Superman in action."

"Me too," Lois said, grinning; Clark stretched   out one arm and hooked it around her shoulders,   drawing her close to him.

"Thanks, Lois. I'd never have thought of this   without you."

She gave his shoulder a gentle head-butt. "Hey,   there's self-interest at work here too - I'm   going to get a great story out of you!"

"*We* are going to get a great story out of   me," he reminded her.

She smiled. "You bet, partner! You didn't think   I'd try to cut you out, did you?"

He smiled back. "Naah. Not now."

"And don't you forget it." She leaned up and   pressed a swift kiss to his cheek. Even with   that brief touch, Clark felt his heart do flip-  flops.

Over supper, his mom asked, "How's the   apartment-hunting going?"

"Apartment-hunting?" Lois interrupted before   Clark could answer.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Come on - you didn't think   I'd stay in that flea-pit indefinitely, did   you? Once I knew I'd be staying, I started   looking, but finding anything in Metropolis to   rent that's both decent *and* affordable isn't   easy. And I've been pretty busy over the past   couple of days," he added, directing his   comment to his parents. "So I haven't really   had time to get out and look at anything."

"Should've told me," Lois said calmly. "I   could've found something for you in no time."

"Really?"

"Of course!" She gave him a look as if to say   that he should have known that. "Have you seen   my contacts list, Clark? I know guys who know   guys... and let's say that some of these guys   owe me favours. Look, I'll make a few calls   tomorrow and see what happens, but I bet you'll   end up with a great apartment in less than two   days. Deal?!

Clark shook his head. "I know better than to   bet against you! Thanks, Lois. I appreciate   it."

She grinned. "Hey, I get something out of it,   too. You imagine I want to keep risking my car   wheels picking you up from the Apollo?"

*********

Clark insisted on wearing his new uniform under   his clothes on the journey back to Metropolis   later that night. Although Lois argued that he   shouldn't risk being seen flying as Clark Kent,   he reminded her that they wanted to be able to   choose for themselves when Superman would make   his first appearance.

To Lois's surprise, both of Clark's parents   hugged her warmly. Martha even urged her to get   Clark to bring her to dinner again soon.

"I really like your parents, Clark," she told   him as he scooped her up into his arms in the   back yard and drifted slowly into the air.

"And they really like you," he said, then   grinned at her. "What did I tell you?"

"Don't be smart, Kent!" she retorted, but then   softened. "I really didn't expect that kind of   reaction, Clark. Not after the way I was when   we met. But apart from that... well, they're so   *normal*!"

She noticed him frown. "You mean that to be my   parents they'd have to be... well, weird or   something? Like me?"

"Clark!" Lois thumped his upper arm, then   winced. "No, I did *not* mean that! I just   meant... well, you'd have to meet my parents to   understand what I meant, I guess. They're...   anything but normal."

He must have heard the wistfulness in her   voice, for his arms tightened around her   briefly. "That's sad," he said quietly. "But,   you know, I'm not sure I agree with you that my   folks are normal either. They're...   extraordinary. I mean, what ordinary couple   would take in a baby they found in a spaceship   and bring him up as their own son? And never   bat an eyelid at all the weird things that kid   grows up doing? They're incredible people,   Lois. And I owe them everything."

The love which had radiated from Martha Kent   when she'd spoken of her son earlier was quite   definitely reciprocated, Lois could see. And   she envied Clark once more.

He'd be amazed if she told him that, Lois   thought with an inward smile; although he   clearly loved his parents, he seemed to feel   that his differences had made his childhood   more difficult than that of most kids. She   wondered what he'd think of hers: a womanising   father, who'd barely been around the family   home before he'd finally abandoned it for his   latest mistress; a mother who'd turned to   alcohol to hide her feelings of abandonment and   worthlessness; two teenage girls largely left   to bring themselves up. And then the experience   of having to fight for what she wanted to study   at college as opposed to what her father wanted   her to do, together with having lived all her   life with the knowledge that as far as Sam Lane   was concerned she'd been born the wrong sex and   that nothing she ever did could satisfy her   father or make  him believe that she was good   enough.

She was finally putting all of that behind her,   though - and having Clark around was a very   great part of that. With Clark she didn't feel   as if she had to prove anything. He'd respected   her professional ability right from the start,   and she'd never had the feeling that he was   trying to compete or to prove something around   her.

Unlike other male reporters Perry had paired   her with over the years - until he'd accepted   that she didn't want a partner - she knew that   Clark wasn't just hoping that she'd make a   mistake or get something wrong just so that he   could claim credit for getting it right. And   even when he had helped her, by assembling and   interpreting Dr Platt's notes, he hadn't acted   as if he'd done her an enormous favour and he   wanted her to admit that he was better than   her; he'd just done it because he'd seen that   she was exhausted and needed some assistance.

Clark was the perfect partner - and the perfect   friend. And, she thought, the only man she'd   ever met that she could imagine wanting to live   with permanently. She'd been in love before,   but never like this. Never confident that the   man she loved also loved her - and although   Clark hadn't said so, something told her that   he did. Maybe it was the way he looked at her   sometimes, when he thought she wasn't watching;   or the way, in his behaviour and in his whole   manner towards her, he cherished her. Never   feeling secure that the man she loved wouldn't   betray her in some way. Clark, she felt, hadn't   a deceitful bone in his body. He was loyal and   steadfast - she'd seen the way he was with his   parents. A man like that would treat his   partner - girlfriend? wife? - with the same   respect, love and loyalty.

He nudged her suddenly, and she realised that   in her introspection she was missing the   flight. It was dark now, and the landscape was   spread out below in patches of shadow,   punctuated by long, winding ribbons of light.   The sheer beauty of it caused her to gasp.

"You okay?" Clark asked, sounding amused.

"You mean other than awe-struck?"

He laughed, then added, "I guess I'm used to   this by now. I forget what it must be like for   someone seeing it for the first time."

"It's not as if I haven't flown before, of   course," she explained quickly. "But this is   *nothing* like seeing the view from the tiny   window on a plane. I can't imagine ever taking   this for granted," Lois murmured. "Even if you   take me flying dozens of times."

Turning to look at him, she could see his   smile, a flash of white teeth in the darkness.   "Shtick with me, baby, and you'll forget there   ever was another way to fly," he drawled in a   bad impression of a gangster accent. Lois   laughed with him.

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

He was flying more slowly than usual, mostly so   that Lois could appreciate the majesty of the   view spread beneath them, but also so that he   could prolong the sensation of holding her in   his arms.

He was in love.

Loving Lois was nothing whatsoever like the   insipid teenage infatuation he'd had for Lana   Lang. That relationship, those feelings, he'd   built up in his mind over the years until he'd   imagined that it was some sort of grand   passion. And as such, Lana's rejection had been   magnified in its importance until he'd believed   that if *she*, the woman he'd loved and who'd   loved him, couldn't have accepted him as he   really was, then no woman could.

Now, of course, Lois had shown him how wrong   he'd been. He'd been wrong, too, in ways she   hadn't pointed out, and yet somehow he knew   that she was equally aware of them. He'd simply   assumed that Lana, talking in the abstract,   would have behaved in the same way if she'd   been confronted with the reality of having an   alien for a boyfriend. Who knew how she'd have   reacted if she'd been told that Clark, her   childhood friend and then boyfriend, could be   from another planet? That was a very different   proposition from encountering a complete   stranger and discovering that he was an alien.

Second, of course, Lana had been a teenager,   just like him, and he should never have placed   so much reliance on the unthinking words of a   sixteen-year-old. Teenagers thought they knew   everything, he reflected. And then as they grew   older, they realised just how much they didn't   know.

Lois didn't care where he came from. She   accepted him - maybe even loved him, if by some   amazing chance he really did turn out to be the   luckiest man alive - just as he was. Lois -

Abruptly, he snapped out of his thoughts.   Something was happening below. He stopped   flying, floating in mid-air, and focused on the   ground hundreds of feet below them.

"What is it, Clark?" Lois asked, sounding   puzzled.

They were almost at Metropolis, and what he was   looking at was the west side of the city's   orbital freeway. "A pile-up," he explained.   "Looks like a couple of trucks and several cars   - I think there're people trapped. And -" He   paused, focusing his vision and hearing on the   scene beneath. " - one of the trucks is   carrying gasoline."

He heard Lois inhale sharply. "That could   blow!"

"I know." He took a deep breath himself. "I   think I need to help..."

"Superman!" Lois said quickly.

"Huh?"

"This is it. Your big debut!"

Struck by her suggestion, he considered the   possibility. To act in his new guise, instead   of trying to do what he could covertly, risking   discovery... On the other hand, he wasn't sure   that he was ready to go public yet. He hadn't   planned, thought about it, psyched himself up   for it...

"Think about it!" she added as he didn't   immediately respond. "You can do so much more   to help if you're not trying to make sure no-  one sees you."

"Yes." It made so much sense. He had to do it,   lack of preparation regardless. "Let me put you   somewhere safe first, okay?"

"No, you don't, buster!" Lois exclaimed. "The   deal is Lane and Kent get the exclusive on   Superman's first appearance, remember? You take   me with you. You save the lives, I'll write the   story."

"Got it," he agreed, a broad grin on his face,   and swooped downwards.

Where could he land safely, without being seen?   There were too many people about. On the other   hand, it was dark - well, dark apart from all   the lights at the scene. And they were both   wearing dark-coloured clothing, too.

"There." He realised that Lois was pointing at   something. "Just behind the exit ramp - it's   dark enough, isn't it? And at least this is a   less built-up area."

He nodded. "That works." The lack of buildings   was fortunate for him. Only a mile further   along the Lex Luthor Freeway - now, he just bet   that a name-change would be on the agenda of   the city council's next meeting! - there were a   couple of motels, three gas stations and half a   dozen or so fast-food outlets.

It was dark, and it was also easy to get to   without being seen. In under a second, he had   landed and was allowing Lois to slide to the   ground. Glancing down at himself, he debated   briefly - rip off his outer clothes? Undress   normally? Speed was clearly of the essence   here, but at the same time he felt... awkward   about undressing in front of Lois. Which was   crazy! He would only be stripping down to the   blue and red uniform, and she'd already seen   him in that. Several times, in fact, over the   couple of hours and numerous tryings-on his mom   had insisted were necessary to get it exactly   right.

Screams of terror and pain reminded him of   where the priority lay. "Here goes," he   muttered anxiously, and pulled his sweatshirt   over his head. Somewhere along the way, a burst   of speed kicked in, and he realised that his   jeans lay on the ground, along with his   sneakers, and that Lois was staring at him,   slackjawed.

"Well, you said you were fast..." she muttered.   Then, glancing behind him, she urged, "Go!"

*********

Left behind as the newly-created Superman   swooped into the sky with what sounded   suspiciously like a sonic boom, Lois bundled   Clark's clothes into the capacious backpack   she'd brought with her and then hurried up onto   the freeway, anxious not to miss anything   important.

And she was just in time. She'd only managed to   get close enough to see what was going on when   a loud `whoosh' sounded, and out of the sky   came a blue-suited, red-caped apparition.   Martha had been exactly right, Lois thought as   she watched Clark hovering over the accident   scene. The cape was the perfect addition. It   fluttered behind him, giving an even greater   appearance of majesty, of something... well,   out of this world.

He looked stunning. The only word to describe   him, in fact, as he paused in mid-air above the   centre of the pile-up, was awe-inspiring. He   took her breath away, and this wasn't the first   time she'd seen him in his costume. And she was   already familiar with his powers.

Just what were other people going to make of   him?

No-one had seen him yet, and she waited almost   with bated breath for the first cry of "What on   earth is *that*?" But it didn't come, and she   acknowledged that people were too busy trying   to get trapped passengers out of cars, or   nursing their own injuries, or yelling and   screaming and wondering why the paramedics and   firefighters weren't there yet.

And then a flicker of orange caught her eye.   Just behind where Clark was hovering, assessing   the scene and clearly deciding where to go   first, something had caught fire. Flames were   flickering angrily, getting closer to the   overturned gas tanker by the second.

"Cla - " Lois began to yell, before stopping   abruptly as she realised that she *couldn't*   call him Clark here.

His head turned. He'd seen it anyway. As had a   few of the people at the scene; a couple of men   were tackling the flames with miniature fire-  extinguishers. It was a vain effort, of course;   their actions had little more effect than   applying a Band-Aid to a near-severed limb.

But she had no idea how Clark was going to deal   with it. What could even he do against a fire   of that intensity? How could he possibly stop   the tanker from going up in a massive   explosion?

Shouldn't he be yelling at people to get away?   Shouldn't he be picking up those who couldn't   walk themselves; using what little time he had   to clear the area?

She inhaled sharply, then opened her mouth to   scream, to shout at people to get away, clear   the area, before the tanker blew.

And then he did it. Something. Whatever it was,   Lois couldn't see, couldn't work out. But   suddenly the flames were doused. Smothered, as   if he'd dropped a massive, soaking-wet blanket   on top of them. Hissing steam arose from the   site of the flames, but they were dead.

And then he darted over to the gas tanker   and... lifted it. Set it back upright again. As   heavy as it was... and he'd lifted it as if it   weighed less than a toy version. She watched as   he flew around it, clearly checking for leaks,   and then stared at one part of the casing for   several seconds, before flying over to another   part of the crash scene.

Now, he'd been seen. Now, some of those who   seconds before had been having hysterics were   staring at him, pointing and looking   incredulous.

"Is he... flying?"

"Who is that?"

"Is it some kind of trick?"

"It's some new army secret weapon, isn't it?"

"Gotta be an experiment. Who knows what those   geeks at MIT get up to?"

Well, they'd all know exactly who he was when   they read tomorrow's Daily Planet, Lois thought   in satisfaction; then she remembered what she   was supposed to be doing. Digging in her   backpack, she found the small 35mm camera she   went nowhere without. As Clark - *Superman* -   darted here and there, sometimes flying,   sometimes running, at times moving so swiftly   he could barely be seen, she snapped photo   after photo. Superman in the air. Superman   peeling away the roof of a Mustang as if it   were the covering on a sardine-can and gently,   carefully, lifting out the trapped victim,   taking her to the side of the road where a   woman, who had identified herself as a doctor,   was assessing the injured.

How had he known that it was safe to move the   driver? Lois wondered. If the woman had any   broken bones... Then she remembered that Clark   had told her that he could see through things.   X-ray vision, he'd said casually. Had he... *X-  rayed* the woman to establish her injuries   before moving her?

And then she understood why, injuries or no   injuries, Clark had moved that driver; smoke   was coming from the hood of the car. It didn't   stay long; Clark darted back over and, it   seemed to Lois, blew on the hood - and the   smoke vanished. But by the time she was sure it   had disappeared, Clark was already several feet   away, disentangling more wrecked cars and   lifting people to safety.

And then the sound of sirens came. First the   police, and then the paramedics and fire   trucks. Lois hurried closer and watched,   listened, as Clark landed in front of the   senior officer and, without giving the man time   to ask who he was, gave a full briefing of what   had been done and where help was most needed.   Paramedics and firefighters, all looking   stunned, hurried off in different directions in   response to Clark's instructions.

The senior officer stayed put, staring at   Clark, and Lois could only imagine what he was   thinking, faced with this strange man in skin-  tight Spandex, who had *flown* over to land in   front of him and who appeared to have done   singlehandedly, and in the space of a few   minutes, the work of an entire fire crew with   their hoses and cutting equipment. "Just who   are you?" the officer asked, amazement and   disbelief written all over his face.

The wary expression on his face told Lois that   Clark still hadn't come to terms with the fact   that he no longer needed to hide. After a long   pause, he replied, "A friend."

"Where have you come from? How...? What...? You   can do all these incredible things..." The   officer seemed almost lost for words.

"I just want to help," he said softly; then   lifted smoothly into the air again.

**********

He'd actually carried it off - used his powers   for good at a time when they were really   needed, and he hadn't been laughed at, or shot   at, or dragged off to some laboratory. People   had listened to his instructions and then   carried them out. They had looked to him for   advice and guidance. And, because of what he   could do, a number of people were alive who   might not otherwise have been.

He wasn't exaggerating the importance of what   he'd done; he knew very well that if that   tanker had blown up, it would have killed those   people nearest to it. Many others, those who   hadn't yet been able to escape from damaged and   even crushed cars, would have been injured,   perhaps suffered horrible burns. That woman   he'd pulled out of her car would have died,   too. She'd been completely trapped - not badly   injured, he'd discovered, but pinned in her   seat by the steering-wheel and dashboard, and   there'd been signs of fire from the engine of   her Mustang.

The firefighters were dousing with foam the   area where the gas had leaked, although Clark   was confident that there was no danger from   that now. But it never hurt to be careful, and   anyway, there was no reason why these guys   should just take his word for it that the area   was safe. After all, they had no idea what he   could do.

He hovered above the scene, watching things and   assessing whether he was needed any more. If   not, he could just fly off and reappear as   Clark Kent - once he found his clothes, of   course, he remembered just in time.

And then he saw firefighters and paramedics   clustered around an SUV which had been close to   the back of the pile-up. Focusing in on their   conversation, he realised that there was a   small child in the back whose booster seat had   been forced forward and wedged solidly, face   down, between the two front seats as the result   of a rear-end impact. The child, a little girl,   was distressed, bleeding and in obvious pain,   but the firefighters were saying that it wasn't   going to be possible to get her out without   cutting equipment.

"Maybe I can help?" Clark landed beside the   SUV, noting as he did so the anxious, tearful   couple who were obviously the child's parents;   both had visible cuts and abrasions and looked   as if they were in some pain, but their entire   focus was on their daughter and the firefighter   who was trying to give them some indication of   what needed to be done to rescue her, at the   same time trying to dampen their expectations,   Clark could see. It was clear that the child   would have lost a lot of blood by the time she   could be freed, and there was no knowing what   her injuries were.

"You... Who *are* you?" the little girl's   father demanded.

He still had no idea how to answer that one.   Lois's name for him was too... Well, he was   *not* going to announce himself as Superman!   "I'm... a friend." He gestured towards the car.   "Let me take a look."

The child, aged about five, he guessed, was   well and truly trapped. Looking closer, Clark   caught his breath as he saw something he was   convinced the emergency services weren't aware   of. A piece of metal, protruding from one of   the front seats, had penetrated her upper arm,   and that was where the blood was coming from.

By the time the firefighters could extract her   safely, she could have bled to death.

Clark gestured at the senior fire officer,   indicating that they should talk privately.   Once they were standing some distance from the   car, he filled the officer in on his discovery.

"Not good." The officer frowned. "We can't move   any faster, though."

"You don't need to. I can get her out in a   couple of minutes."

"Safely?" the officer demanded suspiciously.

"Very." Clark explained what he wanted to do.   "I realise that it's going to be hard for you   to trust me, since you don't know what I can   do. But I'm asking you to do just that."

"Whoever you are, help her, please!" The   sobbing voice came from behind him, and Clark   swung around to see the tearful face of the   little girl's mother. "I saw what you did   earlier. I saw you get that woman out of her   car. Please, get Jenny out! Please! I don't   want her to die - you can't let her die!"

"I need to do this," Clark said quietly to the   fire officer. "Okay?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure that I could stop   you. And... well, seems you're her only hope."   The final words were spoken almost sotto voce.

Not waiting for any further permission, Clark   hurried back to the car. Another quick   assessment of the situation, and then he   carefully peeled back the roof of the car. To   him, it was no more difficult than turning a   page in a book, but he knew that he had to make   sure that no bits of metal went anywhere they   shouldn't. He'd already checked the state of   the fuel tank, ensuring that there was no gas   or oil spilled anywhere around.

The child was still sobbing and whimpering in   pain as he threw the roof on the ground.   Clark's heart twisted, but he reminded himself   that she would be out and safe soon, getting   the medical treatment she needed.

"Jenny? Jenny, can you hear me?" He spoke   loudly, but gently, trying not to alarm her.

She didn't answer. Clark turned around and   gestured towards her parents. "Can you come and   talk to her? She might be happier if she can   hear your voices."

And it would at least make the parents feel as   if they were doing something, he reflected   silently.

As they began to talk to Jenny, Clark examined   the interior of the car and the exact nature of   her position. The easiest way to get the child   out, he decided, was to apply just a little   brute force...

"Climb onto the seat," he instructed her   father. "Now, hold her - just with your hands   around her waist, okay? Make sure she doesn't   move."

He didn't think the precaution was necessary,   but it was best to be safe... and also, it   might stop Jenny's parents from focusing on   exactly what he was about to do. He didn't want   them afraid that she was going to be hurt - or,   worse still, interfering in any way.

He grasped the passenger seat - the one which   wasn't sticking into Jenny - and applied   pressure. There was a slight grinding sound,   and it moved an inch, then another. A couple of   seconds more, and Jenny was no longer firmly   wedged.

Changing position slightly, he motioned Jenny's   father to move a little way to the right, thus   giving himself a clear view of the metal spike.   A small amount of heat vision was enough to   sever it. In under a second, he had Jenny in   his arms and was floating over towards the   nearest ambulance.

"The spike's still sticking into her arm," he   explained. "I just cut it away from the chair.   She doesn't seem to have any internal injuries   that I can see, so other than her arm she   should be fine."

"And you got her out fast enough for us to help   her there," a paramedic said gratefully,   already beginning to treat Jenny. "Whoever you   are, you've done a great job here today."

"Yes, he has, hasn't he?" a familiar voice   interjected. "Lois Lane, Daily Planet. Mind if   I ask a few questions?"

"Not to us, Ms Lane - we need to take this   little girl to the nearest hospital   immediately," the paramedic said instantly.   "You can say that our friend here may have   saved her life, if you like."

"Thanks." Clark saw that Lois had a miniature   tape-recorder in her hand, and he stifled a   grin. Trust his partner to be prepared for any   eventuality!

"I don't want to delay you," she was saying to   Jenny's parents. "I know you want to go with   her. But could I have just one quote, please?   And a picture?"

The mother nodded. "I just want to say that   he... whoever he is... he saved my little girl,   and I'll always be grateful. Thank you," she   added, turning to Clark.

"You're welcome," he assured her. "Just take   good care of her, okay?"

"And I'd like to ask you some questions too,"   Lois added, fixing him with a determined look.   "So... who are you? And how can you do all   these things?"

They hadn't rehearsed this. They hadn't planned   what he was going to say. Clark wanted to   interrupt, to stop her, to ask for more time to   think about it... but he knew that it was   futile. They were in the situation; he was   surrounded by fire officers, paramedics, the   police and members of the public, all watching   from a not-very-discreet distance. So he had to   answer.

"I'm... a friend. From - " He took a deep   breath. "From another planet. And I have   certain... abilities which I want to use to   help. Like here."

"What's your name?" she asked.

He gulped and stared at her. She wasn't   supposed to ask him that.

"You have an S on your... costume," she said,   studying him and then taking some more   photographs. "Since you won't tell me your   name... well, I guess I'll just have to *give*   you a name." Again, she seemed to look   thoughtful. "I know. Superman!" she announced,   as if the idea had just occurred to her.

"That sounds kind of... egotistical, wouldn't   you say, Ms Lane?" he murmured, with a half-  smile.

"Perhaps. But just ask any of these people here   what they think," she suggested. "Or better   still, Jenny's parents. I think Superman   describes you and what you can do pretty well."

"If you insist," he said, still smiling. "Is   that all you need? Because I think I'm needed   over there..." He gestured to a small group   several yards away. He was pretty sure that the   emergency services were managing without him,   but it gave him an excuse to end the interview.

"Okay. But I'll be watching you, Superman!"   Lois said cheerfully, moving away and going to   interview some of the bystanders.

He was well aware of that. And, Clark thought,   he liked the idea.

He liked it a *lot*.

*********

Part 21

It was a good thing that she'd known Clark as himself first, Lois thought as she watched the   new Superhero at work. If she'd met him first   as Superman, or whatever he would have called   himself, she'd have been in complete awe of   him.

He was so completely in control of the   situation, at the same time both commanding and   compassionate. He was self-assured and   confident, and everyone around rushed to do his   bidding, deferred to him for advice and   expected him to find solutions. They treated   him as if he was miracle-worker and commander-  in-chief combined.

There was no way that Lois could have   contemplated having such a... a *god* as a   boyfriend. Oh, she could imagine having a crush   on him, sure; but as for imagining a   relationship of equals... no way.

But as she knew he was Clark, she had no   concerns there. Clark, for all that he might be   from another planet, was more human than anyone   else she knew. He was kind, thoughtful, caring   and had vulnerabilities. He wasn't some super-  confident being to whom she could never aspire   to be an equal. He was... Clark. Her partner.   Her friend.

And her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend: a man from another planet who   could do amazing, *incredible* things. He could   lift heavy objects as if they weighed nothing.   He could see through solid objects. He could   set things on fire with his eyes... and put the   fires out with his breath. He could see and   hear things at huge distances. And he could   *fly*.

He was the best thing that had ever happened to   the world, Lois thought as she watched him. He   wanted to do good: to save lives, prevent   disasters, to help out where he was needed.   Incredible abilities combined with a strong   ethical streak - possibly inculcated by his   parents - and a powerful sense of compassion.

He was also the best thing that had ever   happened to her. And she intended to hang onto   him. This was one man Lucy wouldn't be able to   accuse her of scaring off!

She carried on interviewing victims of the   crash and emergency workers, keeping half an   eye on Clark as she did so. This was going to   be a great story, and she was right on the spot   *and* she had eyewitness accounts and   photographs. There was no way that anyone was   going to be able to say that `Superman'   couldn't possibly exist. His debut would be the   talk of the city - if not all of America - for   some time. And the credit for the story - the   exclusive - would all be hers and Clark's.

They were very fortunate, of course, that none   of the local TV companies or networks had sent   anyone to the scene. Of course, traffic   accidents happened all the time, although a   pile-up such as this was bad even for   Metropolis. But all it would have taken was for   someone to get on the phone to LNN and tell   them about the incredible flying man who was at   the scene; an outside broadcast van would have   been sent immediately, assuming the person who   took the call even halfway believed what he was   hearing.

Now, if she and Clark could get straight to the   Planet once they were finished here, they could   have the story ready for the morning edition,   together with photographs. Of course, it would   have made it into the public domain before   that; she was resigned to that being the case.   People would call the TV and radio news and   talk programmes with their stories. The   emergency workers would certainly be including   references to Superman in their reports. His   existence would be old news by morning - but   the Planet would be the only media outlet with   photographs, an interview, and a *name*.

Clark seemed to be indicating his intention to   hand over to the emergency services and leave.   Lois took a couple of photographs of him being   shaken by the hand by the director of   operations, and then of him lifting into the   sky again, before slipping away to go back to   the ramp where they'd landed earlier. She hoped   he intended to meet her there - if he didn't,   she'd have a heck of a time getting back to the   Planet.

He was there waiting for her, still dressed in   the costume, of course, and looking   exhilarated.

"We did it! It worked!" he exclaimed. "They   just... accepted me as I was. They let me help.   And no-one called the police or the National   Guard!"

"What did I tell you?" she retorted, then threw   her arms around him. "You were magnificent!"

He hugged her back, blushing. "Thanks. But we   better get out of here, just in case..."

"Yeah." Lois glanced around anxiously, but they   were still alone.

"Uh... where are my clothes?" he asked, his   awkward, almost embarrassed expression at odds   with the splendid Superhero costume.

"I have them." She handed her backpack to him.   "Just be careful of my camera, okay? If you   damage that, I don't care who you are, you're   dead."

That made him grin. "I wouldn't dare!" As he   rummaged in the pack, he added, "And don't   think I didn't notice you running around taking   photographs. And interviewing people! You're   always prepared for a story, aren't you?"

"Of course! How do you think I won all those   Kerths? Never miss a story opportunity, that's   what makes you successful."

He extracted his clothes and handed the   backpack to her, looking ruefully at his shirt   and jeans. "I've got to figure out a way to do   this. I can't just strip off each time I'm   needed. And if you're not with me, where do I   leave my clothes?"

"I guess we didn't think of that," Lois said   thoughtfully. And he was right: it was a   problem. Well, more of a minor detail, unless   he had to leave his clothes somewhere unsafe   and someone found them and recognised them as   what Clark Kent had been wearing.

And then she was distracted by a virtual   whirlwind in front of her. It stopped within   seconds, though, leaving Clark standing in   front of her dressed as he had been earlier,   and wearing his glasses.

"Well, that sort of worked," he said with a   grin.

"What... did you... just do?" she asked,   dumbfounded by what she'd just seen - or almost   seen.

"I spun," he said proudly. "Fast, so you   couldn't see what I was doing. And while I was   spinning, I got dressed. And I think I know   what I can do with my clothes now, too."

"What?" she demanded eagerly.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," he said   with an exaggerated leer. "Come on - let's get   to the Planet!"

********

Whirlwind-Lois rushed into action as soon as   they reached the Planet. First, they stopped   off at the darkroom, where she handed in her   camera with dire threats of eternal torture for   anyone who dared present her with anything less   than perfect prints. Then, once on the newsroom   floor, she went to the night editor and ordered   him to call Perry in.

"Whatever you've got, I can handle it," the   editor protested, clearly offended at being   told - not asked - to call in his boss.

Deciding to stay out of this discussion, Clark   leaned casually against the door-frame and   watched Mad Dog Lane in action.

"Forget it, Samuels. This one needs Perry. And   he'd want to know why you haven't called him   in."

"What's it about?" Samuels demanded, holding   his ground. At Lois's stubborn look, he added,   "You know I won't phone up Perry White just on   your say-so. I need to be able to tell him what   this is about. And you know darned well he'd   have my hide if I called him up without knowing   what it's about and whether it justifies him   coming in!"

"Okay," she conceded. "Did you hear about that   pile-up on the Luthor Freeway?"

"That? Come on, Lane, that's not major news!   There's a traffic pile-up every other week!   Besides, the TV news will have talked it to   death by the time the morning edition hits the   streets. If anyone's interested in the first   place."

"Then you don't know what happened," Lois said   triumphantly. "What if we were to tell you that   a flying man appeared from nowhere, put out all   the fires and ripped open cars like sardine   cans to rescue trapped victims?"

Samuels gave her a scathing look. "I'd start   dialling the funny farm. Lane, what do you   think I am?"

"Only someone who's got the biggest story of   the year under his nose and is about to pass it   up!" Lois retorted, her tone indicating exactly   what she thought of the hapless night editor.

"Oh? I thought that was the downfall of Lex   Luthor!" Samuels observed.

"This is bigger. Look, have you been listening   to any news tonight?"

"I've been editing a newspaper!" Samuels   pointed out.

"Okay. Clark - " Lois directed a look at him.   "Turn on the TVs, okay? LNN should do, unless   they're still shell-shocked from their boss's   exposure as a murderer."

Clark went out into the newsroom and hit the   switch; a second later, an excitable voice   filled the room.

"...I tell you, I saw him! He wore a blue and   red suit - with a *cape*, for god's sake - and   he was flying! He ripped open that car - "   Clark could see the picture now; it seemed that   LNN had belatedly managed to get an outside   broadcast team to the site. The Mustang whose   roof he'd pulled off to free its driver was   shown on the screen. " - as if it was made of   paper. He was incredible!"

The reporter's voice took over from the   bystander. "And this report is echoed by just   about every bystander I've spoken to, Howard,   so unless they've all suffered from a   collective hallucination I don't think they're   making it up. And the police confirmed the   sighting," she was saying.

"What do they think he - it - was?" Howard,   back in the studio, asked.

"Nobody knows, although there's a rumour that   he told someone he was from another planet."

"Wait a minute," Howard protested. "You're   telling me that there's an *alien* in   Metropolis? A little green man from Mars?"

"Well, from what eyewitnesses have told me,   he's more like a big white man from Hunk of the   week!" the reporter responded. Then, winding up   her report, she concluded, "This is Linda   Montoya, reporting from the Lex Luthor Freeway   on what could be the most amazing alien   sighting ever seen on Earth... or the biggest   hoax."

"That's what you're talking about?" Samuels   said, sounding stunned.

"Yes," Lois said, only semi-patiently. "We have   an eyewitness account, plus interviews with   victims, photographs of him in action *and* an   interview with Superman himself."

"Superman?" Now Samuels was scathing.

Lois shrugged. "See what you think when you see   the photographs."

The night editor shook his head slowly,   slumping into a nearby chair. "I'm dreaming,   aren't I? This can't be happening."

"It's happening, all right," Clark said,   feeling that he should at least back Lois up.

"Look, you know what? I don't want to know.   Just wake me up when it's all over, okay?"

"So I can call Perry?" Lois persisted.

"If you insist. I mean, this is just a crazy   dream, right? So even if Perry chews me out for   not doing my job, it can't affect my record,   can it?"

But Clark could see that Lois was no longer   listening to Samuels. She had grabbed a phone   and was feverishly dialling. Yep, this was Mad   Dog Lane at work, all right...

And he loved it.

**********

Convincing Perry that the Superman story was   genuine was somewhat easier; he'd seen the LNN   report and had heard a paramedic who'd been at   the scene interviewed on the radio on his way   in.

"So what's going on, you two? I hope you're   going to tell me that you got the inside scoop   on this flying man!" he barked as soon as he   came out of the elevator.

"That's exactly what we've got for you," Lois   said triumphantly. "And I know you never do it   any more, but you *have* to hold the front page   for this one."

"I don't know about that," he said   thoughtfully. "You know how uppity the suits   upstairs get about anything that puts costs   up."

"This'll be worth it." Lois was supremely   confident, grinning at Perry in the sure   knowledge that he was going to be delighted   with her. "We don't just have the story..." She   paused for dramatic effect. "We have   photographs and an interview!"

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get on those   computers and start writing!" Perry ordered.   "And let me see those photographs!"

"Can't. The darkroom people are developing them   now."

"Okay, I'll get onto them and tell them to get   their butts in gear. And why are you two still   standing here?"

Lois caught Clark's arm. "Come on, partner. You   heard him!"

Two hours later, they were ready to go to   press. Perry had selected a blown-up colour   photograph of Superman hovering over several   mangled cars for the front page, but on the   inside pages were several smaller pictures of   the superhero in action. The photos had come   out very well, Lois thought, especially   considering that she wasn't a photographer by   profession; she'd managed to portray the sheer   majesty of Superman combined with the awe in   the expressions of those watching. The banner   headline on the front page was "Superman!"   with, in smaller bold text underneath, "He   flies, he blows out fires, he can bend steel   with his bare hands. Is he really from another   planet?".

The byline on the story was Lane and Kent, and   it had truly been a joint effort. Clark had   been inclined to underplay what he'd done,   which Lois had refused to allow; on the other   hand, he had been of much more help in   explaining exactly the situation he'd faced at   the accident scene and how he'd had to deal   with it - although they'd deliberately kept   some of the details vague, just in case anyone   wondered how they knew so much.

Superman's debut had been thoroughly   chronicled, Lois felt by the time they were   finished. Perry was delighted with their   eyewitness account, and even more so with the   photographs; by the time she and Clark were   packing up, he was waxing lyrically about   increased circulation figures and stock values.   At the same point, he was debating aloud as to   whether it was possible to get radio ads aired   in time to boost sales of the morning edition   still further.

"You two did a good job," he said finally, when   Lois told him they were leaving. "But you know   as well as I do that today's headline is   tomorrow's tramp's bed. So I want you to get   out there and find this guy! I want to know who   he is, what his real name is, what's his agenda   - what he eats for breakfast! First thing   tomorrow, you're on it, okay?" The command was   barked out gruffly.

"You got it, Perry," Lois said smartly, nudging   Clark in the ribs to ensure that he echoed her   agreement. He did, clearly reluctantly, but as   they entered the elevator he looked disquieted.

"I'm not sure I like this." He leaned against   the elevator wall, hands thrust deep into his   jeans pockets.

"What? Perry setting us on a hunt for   Superman?" Lois shrugged. "You knew that would   happen. Come on, Clark, you're a reporter!   Every media organisation in the country will be   trying to hunt him down."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he muttered.

The elevator stopped at the ground floor. Lois   hooked her arm through Clark's and dragged him   with her out of the car. "Look, they're not   going to find him, are they? So what's the   problem?"

"They might," Clark answered glumly, holding   the front door open so that she could precede   him onto the street.

"Not a chance! Look, we're the only ones who   know the truth," she said in an undertone. "And   we're not going to tell anyone. And we have the   added advantage that we can throw people off   the scent if we like. You know - have Superman   say something in an `interview' - " She crooked   the fingers of her free hand to indicate   quotes. " - which means no-one would even think   of looking for a secret identity. Don't be so   worried, Clark!"

"I guess you're right." He freed his arm from   her grasp, wrapping it around her shoulders   instead. "I should stop obsessing about it."

"It can't be easy," Lois acknowledged. "You've   been afraid of exposure most of your life."

"True. But," he added, clearly making an effort   to smile, "now I've got a great disguise, and   an even better support network." The mini-hug   he gave her made it clear that she was included   in that network.

"Hey, what are friends for?" she said lightly,   but she knew she was blushing.

"Friends?" He paused, giving her a quizzical   look. "I thought we were more than friends?"

Lois caught her breath. The illumination   provided by a nearby street light allowed her   to see his face, and the way he was looking at   her made her feel weak at the knees. She'd   thought earlier that he might be in love with   her, but in a way she'd had that thought   without any consideration of what it actually   meant.

The way he was looking at her told her exactly   what it meant.

Clark was looking at her as if she was the most   precious thing in the world. His gaze held a   combination of awe, wonder, desire, longing and   admiration. And possession, too; she was his   woman, and he wanted her to know it. Even if   there was a degree of uncertainty there, too.

She moved closer to him. "Yes, I think you   could definitely say we're more than friends,"   she told him, her voice husky. "But being   friends is important too."

"Definitely," he agreed, and his voice was   gravelly too. "You're the best friend I've ever   had, Lois. Even though we've only known each   other a couple of weeks... I've never felt so   comfortable with anyone."

She moved closer still. "Me too, Clark... I   like having you as my friend."

He smiled, a slow, dizzying smile. "And I like   having you as mine." His head dipped, and his   lips claimed hers.

The kiss was long and slow and completely   wonderful. Lois wrapped her arms around Clark,   uncaring that they were in the street in the   middle of Metropolis; the whole world could see   them kissing for all she cared. The only thing   that mattered was being in Clark's arms.

Too soon, and yet it was after a long time, he   raised his head and smiled dazedly down at her.   "I should have followed my instincts and kissed   you the very first time we met," he murmured   softly.

"What? When you found out that I was a woman?"

But he shook his head. "Nope. The moment I was   introduced to Larry Long, I felt this crazy,   unbelievable desire to haul him into my arms   and kiss him senseless." He gave her a rueful   grin. "Can you imagine how that felt?"

"Well, since I found myself having X-rated   fantasies about a man I thought was a worthless   criminal, yeah, I can!" Lois confessed.

Clark blinked, then grinned at her. "X-rated,   hmmm? So exactly what were you imagining, Lois?   Anything you'd want to... try out, perhaps?"

She felt herself blushing, but laughed. "Don't   push your luck, Kent!"

He laughed in response, and then offered her   his arm again. "Come on. Let's get you home.   After all, looks like we have a busy day   tomorrow!"

Lois snuggled up to him, and was rewarded with   his arm around her shoulders instead. "Going   home sounds like a great idea," she said, in a   teasing tone. She had every intention of   ensuring that Clark stayed for at least an hour   of kissing and cuddling.

But he, it seemed, had other ideas. "I won't   come in, Lois," he said, his tone regretful.   "I'd like to, but I'm thinking maybe Superman -   if you really insist on that name! - should be   seen out and about a little. And I want to keep   an eye on Hewitt Dock - you know there've been   attacks there over the last few days."

"You're really getting into this, aren't you?"   Lois said, feeling a combination of admiration   and amusement. She couldn't help feeling a   sense of satisfaction at the same time: after   all, Superman was in a way her creation. She   was the one who had inspired Clark to create a   hero-style persona for himself.

She supposed she could forgo the kisses in a   good cause. Just as long as he made up for it   another time - and as long as that was soon.

Clark walked with her to her apartment   building, then insisted on accompanying her up   to her door. She smiled coyly up at him as she   slid the first key into its lock. "You can't   walk all the way up here and then say you don't   want to come in! Twenty minutes - I'll make   coffee. Or not, if you prefer." She grinned.

He looked tempted, but then shook his head.   "Thanks all the same, Lois, but I really should   get going. Tell you what, though," he added.   "How about I take a rain-check on that coffee?   I could come by later, if you like. Maybe in a   couple of hours or so?"

Lois gave him a slow, sweet smile. "I'll hold   you to that, Kent."

His answering smile was broad and full of   promise. "I'll be here." Tipping up her chin   with his fingertips, he lowered his head and   took her lips in another kiss.

This was too brief, Lois thought as Clark   pulled away a couple of minutes later. She   wanted to drag him inside her apartment and   lock the doors... but that wouldn't do her much   good, she realised, since he could just jump   out of the window and fly away anyway.

"Okay, if you're insisting on leaving, get   going," she told him, pushing lightly against   his chest. He caught her hand and raised it to   his lips, kissing her fingers.

"See you later," he promised, before walking   back down the corridor.

Lois let herself into her apartment, deciding   to spend an hour or so checking out the news on   TV and radio to see what was being said about   Superman. Closing the door behind her, she   began to fasten the various bolts.

And then a hand slid around her face and   clamped itself over her lips.

She froze.

Who could it be? Obviously someone to whom five   deadbolts presented no difficulty whatsoever.   So it wasn't a petty burglar. And, if it was   someone who harboured a grudge against her, he   - she was sure that it was a man - was very   determined. And skilled.

And probably going to kill her, she   acknowledged. Criminals didn't just break in   and make their presence known in this manner if   all they wanted to do was yell obscenities at   her.

He hadn't spoken yet. That was the most   unnerving thing of all.

Time to take aggressive action. Lois bent from   the waist, then twisted her body and kicked out   behind, aiming for her assailant's vulnerable   spots. But he was martial arts-trained too,   because he took evasive action and in seconds   had her flat on her front on the floor, his   knee pressed against her lower spine and one   arm twisted painfully behind her back.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "What do you   want?"

"Oh, you do disappoint me, Ms Lane. I would   have thought that an award-winning   investigative reporter like you would have   already worked all of that out. I suppose   you're just not as good as you think you are,"   the man behind her, pinning her to the floor,   drawled.

And she knew that voice.

Lex Luthor was out of prison somehow, and he'd   come looking for revenge.

And he was currently holding a gun to her head.

**********

Part 22

Freedom.

That was what flying in the blue and red suit,   however garish, felt like to Clark. For all his   life, at least since he'd been able to fly,   he'd had to keep to the shadows and make sure   that no-one ever guessed that there was such a   thing as a flying man.

Now, he could soar openly through the skies.

At least, he could if he could get over the   reticence he was still feeling at being seen in   public in this superhero persona.

The disguise had worked, of course - worked   extremely well. Far better than his wildest   expectations. He'd been welcomed. His skills   had been appreciated - in fact, demanded. He'd   been accepted.

Acceptance.

Something all his life he thought he'd be   denied - at least, denied for his true self, as   opposed to the normal human he pretended to be.   And yet he'd not only been accepted, but   wanted. Needed.

And it felt good.

Life was good.

He flew in a wide circle around the city,   keeping both eyes and ears open for signs of   problems below. The Luthor Freeway, he noticed,   was open for traffic again; hard to imagine   that a mere three hours or so ago it had been   the scene of appalling carnage. Well, not that   bad really, he supposed. Three people had been   killed which, for a pile-up of that size, was   pretty low. Of course, more would have died if   he hadn't been able to use his abilities to   help; of that he was sure. The woman in the   Mustang. Probably little Jenny, trapped in the   SUV. And the tanker would have exploded,   killing most of those in its immediate vicinity   and injuring many others, leaving them with   painful burns.

He'd saved lives. People were still walking   around - or would be once they'd been   discharged from the hospital - because of him.

It wasn't, of course, the first time he'd saved   lives, and of course he'd saved Lois's life   only the previous night. But this was the first   time he'd done it visibly, in full view of   anyone who cared to look. This was the first   time he'd taken credit - not that he wanted the   credit, but it made such a difference not   having to run away afterwards to the sound of   people asking each other "What *was* that?".

And no-one had run screaming from him, despite   what he could do. Despite even his admission -   which several bystanders had heard - that he   might be from another planet.

Best of all, no-one had asked him who he really   was underneath the costume.

Of course, he hadn't yet run into anyone who   knew him as Clark Kent. That would be the real   test: could he pull off his other persona in   front of someone he knew? But he'd face that   when he came to it - and anyway, he'd found,   oddly enough, that assuming a different   personality when in the costume came very   easily. Though Lois would no doubt tell him   that, far from assuming a different   personality, he was actually just discovering a   side of himself he'd always suppressed - giving   his true nature the freedom to exist.

As for the disguise, he could probably get away   with it. As Lois had said several times, who   would expect to see Clark Kent in a Spandex   suit and performing all sorts of amazing feats?

No-one.

He smiled at that thought. He was pretty sure   that he'd be safe.

Life was very good right now. Not only could he   use his abilities openly, to help people, in   the way he'd always longed to, but the most   wonderful woman in the world knew all about him   and wanted him anyway. Okay, Lois hadn't   mentioned the L-word yet - but then, neither   had he. But he knew that she cared. Heck, she   hadn't wanted him to leave just now! If that   wasn't a sign of how she felt about him,   nothing was.

He circled around and made his way towards   Hewitt Dock. A couple of hours keeping watch   should about do it for tonight, and then he   could go back to Lois's for that promised   coffee.

Or maybe they'd both just forget about the   coffee... He could think of several far more   interesting ways to spend the time.

*********

<Think, Lois, think!>

She had to stay Luthor's hand somehow. Distract   him from his intention - if he did intend to   kill her immediately. She could do nothing with   his gun held to the back of her head. He'd have   the trigger pulled in a fraction of a second,   and she'd be dead moments later.

Delay him. Distract him. That was what she had   to do. <*Think, Lois!*>

Clark. She needed Clark.

<Oh, Clark, why couldn't you have come in? Even   for just one minute?>

Clark. Her secret weapon. Luthor didn't know   anything about Superman, did he? All she had to   do was call him.

But if she called him now, she'd be dead before   she'd even got Superman's name out.

Clark had said he'd come back...

Maybe... maybe, if she could stall Luthor for   long enough, she could keep herself alive until   Clark got back. It was a long shot, but it was   worth it...

Anything was worth it when she was lying on the   floor of her apartment with the cold steel of a   gun pressed against the back of her head!

*Distract him!*

"You do disappoint me, Ms Lane," Luthor drawled   from behind her, his knee pressing even more   painfully into her lumbar region. "No tears? No   pleas for mercy? But then, I shouldn't have   expected that from the intrepid Lois Lane. I   did expect some spunk, though. You know - empty   threats and so forth." He laughed. "But then,   you're just some pathetic little reporter,   after all. Once you don't have the upper hand,   you're nothing. I can barely understand why I   bothered."

Oh, this was better. He was beginning to lose   his focus. He wanted to savour his victory   before actually claiming it.

Fool! Didn't he know how easily hubris came   before a fall?

"Maybe I am, Luthor," Lois replied, the words   coming in gasps due to the pressure on her rib-  cage. "But if I am, doesn't the fact that I'm   the one who brought you down make you look even   worse?"

"Just tell me one thing," Luthor barked, and   she could feel spittle on the back of her neck   as he spoke. "How did you and Kent get out of   that warehouse?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Lois threw back at   him.

"Yes, I would." His tone was dangerous. The   pressure on her back increased, and the gun-  barrel pressed harder against her head.

Making her tone as casual as she could in the   circumstances, Lois said, "Okay. I'll tell you.   As long as you tell me how you got out of   jail."

There was a pause. Then, after a moment, Luthor   said, "That's a fair exchange. All right. Go   ahead."

"You first," Lois said. "And take that gun away   from my head. It makes me nervous."

Luthor laughed. "That sounds like something I'd   want to happen, Ms Lane. Do you really think   I'm stupid enough to give you another chance to   attack me?"

"Keep me covered and I won't be able to," she   pointed out. "I'd just like to be able to   breathe."

He stood up abruptly, the pressure on her back   disappearing. The gun was taken away in the   same moment. Lois heaved several gulping   breaths and waited for instructions.

"Turn over," he barked. "You can sit up, but   keep your hands and feet where I can see them.   And if you move a muscle, you'll be dead."

"You're going to kill me anyway, aren't you?"   Lois challenged him, moving very slowly into a   sitting position - not only because she was in   some pain still from the battering her spine   and upper arm had taken, but because she was   stalling in the vain hope that Clark might   arrive soon. He'd promised to come over, after   all...

He'd promised. Clark would always keep his   promises. Wouldn't he? He wasn't like all the   other men she'd known, to whom promises were   mere words. Meaningless words.

Clark would come.

<Hurry, Clark!>

"Then why don't you just shoot now?" she asked.   "Oh, of course..." she added, as if the idea   had only just occurred to her.

"What?" he snapped from the seated position   he'd taken up on one of her couches.

"You can't abide not knowing how we escaped. If   you kill me now, you'll never know, will you?"

He gave her a look of loathing, then waved the   gun in her direction. "Go on. Start talking."

"Oh, no," Lois said airily, though her heart   was thumping. "You first. After all,   anticipation should be savoured, shouldn't it?   I'm sure I remember you saying that in a   magazine interview some time ago. Time, was it?   Or maybe it was The Economist. Or... no, I   think it was GQ, wasn't it? Something frivolous   like that, anyway. Maybe it was Playgirl."

She knew that she was angering him, but so much   the better. The angrier he got, the less in   control he'd be. Of course, she was well aware   that she was also running the risk that he'd   just lose his temper completely and shoot her   out of fury. But, from what she knew of Lex   Luthor, she was pretty sure that he wouldn't.   He was used to getting his own way. He hated   being thwarted. And the fact that she and Clark   had escaped alive from what should have been a   death-trap was eating away at him. The injury   that had done to his pride had been exacerbated   by the fact that the two of them had also   organised his arrest.

No, he wouldn't kill her until he found out   what he wanted to know.

"Well, Lex?" she enquired sweetly, deliberately   using his first name, knowing that it would   enrage him. "Are you going to start?"

He glared at her. "I was released on bail."

Lois almost felt her jaw dropping. "You were   *what*? I don't believe it! With what you were   charged with, there's no way any judge in the   state would have let you out on bail!"

He shrugged casually, his expression smug.   "It's not difficult when you have the right   connections."

"Connections?" Oh, of course, Lois thought   cynically, the penny dropping. "You mean a   judge on your payroll," she said flatly.

"As I said, it helps to have the right   connections. My lawyer has been working on it   all day, and bail was agreed this evening."

"There was nothing about it on the news," Lois   pointed out.

"The hearing was in camera," Luthor said with   another shrug. "I doubt if even that dedicated   Mr Plod of yours knows about it yet." He waved   his gun at her. "Now it's your turn. Get a move   on!"

<Okay> Lois told herself. <Think. Stall. Find a   way to...>

"You want to know how we escaped from that   warehouse before it exploded?" she enquired.

"You know I do. Stop delaying!"

She couldn't give Clark's secret away, of   course. She needed a story, something   reasonably convincing, just to allow her   another couple of minutes' breathing-space.   Just until Clark came to rescue her.

Wait a minute... Why was she depending on a man   to come and rescue her anyway? she suddenly   thought indignantly. This was far from the   first time that she'd faced down a gunman   determined to kill her. And she'd always   managed to get away before. Why should this   time be any different?

<You never faced Lex Luthor before>

He was just another angry crook with a gun, she   told herself fiercely. And she was smarter than   him. She could get the better of him. All she   needed was to get him to put that gun down, and   then she could take him...

<Some chance, Lois. He's not going to let go of   it>

"Get on with it!" Luthor barked suddenly.   "Don't think I'll wait all night. I'm not that   desperate to know how you escaped. What was it?   Kent prove himself to be Mr Universe or   something and break the chains with his bare   hands?" he scoffed. "I doubt it somehow. I   could almost see you doing it, though - don't   they call you Mad Dog Lane?" he added   scornfully.

If only he knew how close he was to the truth,   Lois mused in dark amusement.

And then the thought struck her.

The truth!

Or, at least, a version of it...

"Actually, no," she drawled. "I save my metal-  chewing for when there's an R in the month.   No," she added. "We just yelled, *Help!!   Superman!*" She screamed the words, hoping   desperately that Clark would hear her.

Luthor stared at her in outright disbelief. "Do   you think I was born yesterday? Who the hell is   Superman?"

Lois met his stare, her eyes wide. "You've   never heard of Superman?"

He waved the gun at her again. "You're trying   to take me for a fool. It won't work. Have you   forgotten that I've been running multi-billion-  dollar corporations for years? No-one puts one   over on me."

"Really? Then they clearly haven't tried hard   enough," Lois retorted, but at the same time   she was muttering to herself, over and over,   <Clark! Where are you? Help! Please help...>

"Superman is..." she began, stalling for time   again and alarmed at the deliberate way the gun   was now being aimed at her. "He is... well,   he's just - " She took a deep breath and yelled   at the top of her voice, "*SUPERMAN!!!*"

<Clark, please hear... please hear! Clark! I   need you, Clark...>

"It's a mistake to mess with me, Ms Lane,"   Luthor said, his voice cold steel, just like   the gun he was aiming steadily at her. "Say   your last goodbyes."

Lois stifled a whimper. This was it; he was   really going to kill her.

Scenes from her life began to flash before her   eyes. Most of all Clark; walking with Clark,   flying with him, kissing him... falling in love   with him.

It was just *bloody* Murphy's Law, wasn't it?   No sooner had she finally found a man she could   trust, a man who clearly thought she was   wonderful and who, she could tell, wanted to be   with her every bit as much as she wanted to be   with him - no sooner had she found the one man   she *loved* - then some *creep* of an   egotistical, arrogant, lower-than-pocket-lint   criminal wanted to take it all away from her.

<Clark, I love you... Please, help me!>

And, as her lips formed the word `Superman'   once more, Luthor pulled back the safety-catch,   and his fingers began to squeeze the trigger.

*********

Clark was sitting on top of the tallest   building in the Dock area, watching the roads   below like a hawk. Waiting for something to   happen... or not happen.

He wasn't sure whether this was the most   effective use of his time: hanging around out   of sight just in case he might catch a mugger   at work. That was something he'd have to work   out, though - how best to use his abilities to   help *prevent* crime as much as to deal with   the aftermath.

Although he figured that Lois's Inspector   Henderson would probably tell him that   preventing crime was none of his business...

He couldn't accept that, though. Surely it was   better to offer a deterrent than to deal with   the consequences afterwards? If he could help   prevent people getting hurt - or worse, killed   - surely that was of benefit to the whole   community? Including the police, who simply   didn't have the resources to put officers on   every street corner. And even if they could,   Clark thought ruefully, some people would start   complaining about Big Brother and a police   state.

So, was it best to lurk and catch someone in   the act and let the word go around that there   was a new guy in town who wasn't going to stand   for that kind of activity? Or would it be   better to make himself very visible from time   to time, being seen cruising around the skies   above Metropolis, so that the criminal   fraternity would never know where he'd turn up   next and would be well aware that they could be   caught? He wasn't sure. He really needed to   work out a strategy for all of this.

Lois. Lois would help - in fact, she probably   already had a strategy half-formed in her head!   He should have stayed for coffee. Though he was   going to see her in an hour or so, he reminded   himself; they could discuss it then. It wasn't   as if he had no ideas himself - it was just   that he wanted to be able to bounce some   thoughts around with someone who'd understand.

With Lois.

The Spandex costume itself, of course, wasn't   designed for lurking in the shadows, Clark   reminded himself - and anyway, one of the main   advantages of this disguise, surely, was that   he no longer had to lurk in the shadows when   trying to help, wasn't it? So maybe it would be   better to be seen. To do that, though, he   needed people to be aware of who he was, and   that he presented no threat. The Planet's   morning edition should help there, he hoped.

Nothing was stirring below. Maybe it was time   to go back to Lois's place, after all. He   didn't imagine that she'd object if he arrived   earlier than he'd promised.

Thoughts of Lois filled his mind, and suddenly   it almost felt as if he could hear her voice in   his head. It was faint, but he thought that she   was calling him Superman. Of course, he was   Superman right at the moment. He smiled   ruefully. She did like that name she'd invented   for him, didn't she?

Then he heard her voice again. And he realised   the truth.

He wasn't imagining it. Lois was really calling   for him.

Her tone was panicked, pleading for help.

Lois was in danger! And she needed him!

He leapt upwards, taking flight at the same   instant. Barrelling through the air towards her   apartment, he cursed himself. Lois was in   trouble. The woman he *loved* was terrified, in   danger, and he'd ignored her scream for him!

He just hoped he could get there in time... He   *had* to get there in time!

"Lois!" he screamed, the words lost due to the   speed he was travelling.

It took far too long to reach her apartment.   Mere seconds, but even a split-second could be   too long. If her life was in danger... if he   failed to save her...

<I love you, Lois!>

He'd only just found her. The woman he loved   more than anything else in the world. The one   woman who accepted him just as he was - who   *wanted* him as he was. Who thought that his   abilities were something special, not something   to be ashamed of.

*His* woman.

He was straining his vision to see what was   going on long before he was within sight of   Lois's apartment. It was so darned   *frustrating* that he couldn't see...

And then he did see. Lex Luthor, with a gun   trained on Lois.

And Luthor was saying, "Say your last   goodbyes."

He could see his own name - the name of the   character they'd created together for him -   forming on her lips.

He put on one final burst of speed, aiming   himself directly at her apartment window.

*********

Part 23

Several things happened at once.

Taking a deep breath, Lois swung her foot out,   kicking hard.

There was a ferocious sound of shattering   glass.

And a gunshot echoed through the living-room.

A blue and red blur was all she could see for   several seconds. Then the blur stopped, and she   could see Lex Luthor on the ground, tied up   with strips of Clark's cape, and Clark himself   - well, Superman - was glaring furiously down   at his prisoner.

Then he looked at her, and the anguish combined   with relief in his expression settled any   lingering doubts she might have had about his   feelings for her. "Are you all right, Lois? He   didn't hurt you? That gunshot... I was aiming   at the gun, but I couldn't -"

"I'm fine," she said quickly. "I don't know   where the bullet went, but it didn't hit me."

"You caught his elbow with that kick," Clark   explained. "Nice work! But I should have been   here sooner. I almost wasn't in time..."

Distress was stark in his voice; Lois wanted to   go to him, comfort him - and comfort herself in   the process. But the timing was wrong. He was   there in his costume, as Superman. The last   thing they could afford to do was have anyone   link Superman too closely with Lois Lane. Apart   from anything else, if she was dating Clark and   someone made the connection...

Focus on the here and now. There were things to   be done, she told herself.

She glanced around and behind her, then noticed   a hole in the plaster just to the right of the   now-shattered window. "I hope my landlord has a   good insurance policy," she murmured with a   grin. She could feel herself giddy with relief   at having survived; she'd been so sure that she   was going to die.

"If you don't mind," an indignant voice   interrupted, "this is getting boring. Just who   is this... this badly-dressed Neanderthal?"

"Let me introduce you, Lex," Lois exclaimed   with a grin. Jumping to her feet, she added,   "Lex Luthor... meet Superman."

"You are increasingly tedious," Luthor   complained. "You really expect me to believe   that someone masquerades under that ridiculous   name? Why... *Super*man?" he asked   contemptuously.

Lois shrugged. "Because he's Super, of course."   She turned to Clark. "Show him, Superman."

"With pleasure," Clark growled. Bending, he   picked up Luthor's gun and, as Lois and Luthor   both watched, he crushed it in one hand.

Lois glanced back at Luthor and noticed with   great satisfaction that his face had blanched.   He cowered and almost seemed to shrink into the   carpet.

"You'd better lie very still until the police   come, Mr Luthor," Clark said very coldly. "I'm   sure you can imagine what I could do to you if   you made me even more angry than I am right   now."

The police... of course. Lois hurried to the   phone and within seconds was connected to   Henderson.

"What's the problem, Lane?" the officer   enquired, sounding distracted.

"It's currently lying tied up on my apartment   floor, actually," she told him.

"Huh? What the heck are you talking about,   Lois?"

"Lex Luthor," she informed him. "Did you know   that he was out on bail?"

"The DA's office just told us." By the sound of   Henderson's tone, he'd been even less impressed   with that news than she herself had. "Wait a   second," the detective added quickly. "Are you   saying that he's at your place?"

"That's what I just said. He's not a very happy   bunny at the moment, though, so you might want   to send some of your boys around here ASAP."

There was a pause, and she could hear   Henderson's muffled voice clearly shouting   instructions to some hapless minion. Then he   came back on the line. "Are you okay, Lois?" He   actually sounded anxious.

"I'm fine," she reassured him. "A little shaken   up - and if you ever repeat that, Bill, you're   dead."

"Your secret's safe with me," he said dryly.   "Now, you said Luthor's tied up? He's not any   danger to anyone?"

"He's not going anywhere," she pronounced with   satisfaction. "He's tied up, and his gun is out   of commission. A... friend is standing guard   over him, and he'll stay until your guys get   here."

"Thanks, Lois. I owe you one," the detective   said, and she could tell that the words were   sincere.

"*Another* one, you mean," Lois pointed out.   "Think nothing of it. Just try to keep him in   jail this time, huh?"

*********

An hour later, things had finally quietened   down, to Clark's relief. A blustering Lex   Luthor - though he'd stopped blustering once   `Superman' had stared him down - had been   escorted out of Lois's apartment and off to the   police station to be charged with attempted   murder in addition to all the other charges   already pending against him.

Henderson, who'd arrived about five minutes   behind the uniformed officers, had made the   acquaintance of Superman and taken initial   statements from both Clark and Lois. He'd shown   little reaction when he'd walked into the   apartment and seen the caped figure; one   eyebrow had crawled up infinitesimally and he'd   said to Lois, "This is your friend, I assume?"

"Meet Superman," Lois had said instantly,   looking pleased to have, she'd obviously   thought, got one up on the inspector.

Extending his hand to Superman, Henderson had   drawled, "Yes, so I heard. You're on our side,   I hope?" That had been to Clark.

"Our side?"

"The side of law and order, of course."

"I believe in trying to do what's right," Clark   had answered. "And, yes, I believe in justice   and protecting life, and that's usually the   side of law and order, isn't it?"

The shrewd look Henderson had given him in   response had contained both respect and a tacit   warning.

But one thing had relieved Clark. Both the   inspector and Luthor had seen him as Clark Kent   - and had seen him in Lois's company. Yet   neither of them had shown any sign of   recognition when they'd looked at him as   Superman. The disguise obviously worked with   people who knew him too.

Not that either Henderson or Luthor knew him   well. But Clark was very sure that both men   rarely forgot a face. Henderson was too shrewd,   and knew his job too well, for that; and as for   Luthor, it was in the interests of a man like   him, who maintained the fa‡ade of a respectable   businessman while running a crime empire, to   remember everyone he met. Neither of them,   however, had realised that they'd seen Superman   before.

All the same, all he'd wanted was to be alone   with Lois. But they'd had to endure a   frustrating wait while the forensic team had   taken fingerprints from the apartment, removed   the bullet from the apartment wall and worked   out how Luthor had got into the apartment in   the first place - up the fire escape and   through the bedroom window, which he'd somehow   managed to loosen from its frame. Then the   entire scene had been photographed several   times, including Lois's shattered window and   the glass all over the floor. And after a   while, it had occurred to Clark that, if he   didn't want his disguise to be blown on his   first day on the job, he shouldn't hang around   Lois's apartment, so he'd made his excuses and   flown off.

And then, while airborne, he'd heard a scream   for help, and had ended up rescuing a man from   a mugger in Hewitt Dock after all.

Now, finally, he was back and knocking on   Lois's door again. A quick glance through the   wall had shown him that the police had all   gone, and that Lois was crouched on the floor   sweeping up the broken glass. That was a task   he wasn't too happy to see her doing. He'd have   that cleaned up for her in under a second.

He knocked, and watched her get to her feet in   response. As soon as she opened the door, Clark   stepped forward and swept her into his arms,   kicking the door shut behind him. "I've needed   this for the last hour!" he groaned, burying   his face in her hair. "I was so scared... he   could have killed you! He almost did!"

She stroked his hair, her free arm wrapped   tightly around him. "I'm fine, Clark. He didn't   hurt me. I'm *fine*!"

"I know. But you nearly weren't!" He pulled   back, gazing at her beloved features, making   sure that there wasn't even the faintest   bruise. "I was almost too late, Lois!"

She ran her fingertips over his face, her touch   the sweetest caress he'd ever experienced. "You   weren't too late, Clark. And anyway, I managed   to wreck his aim."

"You did." Clark smiled, despite his inner   anguish. "That was some kick."

"Yeah." She grinned. "He thought he was better   than me in a fight, but I showed him." As if   she'd just remembered something, Lois added,   "What did you mean earlier? When you said you   aimed at the gun?"

Clark gestured to his eyes. "Heat vision. I was   going to make him drop it before he fired. But   then I saw you kick out, so I cut it off and I   was about to grab the bullet." He took a deep   breath, the events, which had happened so   quickly at the time and yet to him had seemed   to take place in one endless moment, causing   him remembered pain.

"You would have saved me, Clark. I know that,"   Lois assured him.

"Yeah. I would." He nodded; reliving the scene   in his memory had reassured him of that much.   If Lois hadn't kicked, he would have burned the   gun out of Luthor's hand before the man had   pulled the trigger, or he could have sealed up   the end with his heat vision. Or, if those   hadn't worked, he could have got in front of   Lois in less than a heartbeat, stopping the   bullet for her. Or simply just pulled her out   of the way.

He would have saved her. Even if she hadn't   saved herself, she would still have been alive.

Sliding his hands down her arms, he linked his   hands with hers, intertwining their fingers.   She gazed up at him, her eyes wide with concern   for him.

For him! After all that she'd gone through this   evening!

"Lois." He heard the faint choke in his voice,   and paused to take another steadying breath.   "Lois, I love you."

Her lips curved into an awed, delighted smile.   "I love you, too, Clark."

********

Everything else was just details, Lois decided   as she melted into Clark's arms. They would   write up the story of Luthor's attempt on her   life in the morning - it wouldn't make it into   the paper any earlier than tomorrow's afternoon   edition in any case.

There were other things they needed to do too,   she thought dizzily. They probably needed to   talk some more about Superman and how to play   the story to ensure that the message got across   that he was there to help, not to be a threat.   She needed to help Clark find an apartment -   they'd do that over the next few days, and she   didn't envisage it being a problem.

And one of these days she and Clark might   actually manage to go out on a date.

But none of that was important right at this   moment.

Only just over an hour ago, she'd thought that   she was seconds away from death - for the   second time in two days. She'd survived both   times, but both times she'd been confronted   with the knowledge of what was most important   in life. Not awards; not a successful career;   not being better than everyone else in the   business.

None of that mattered remotely beside two very   important facts.

Clark loved her. She loved Clark.

And she knew that, somehow, they were destined   to be together.

After all, he'd come many billions of miles   from wherever it was he was born to end up on   Earth. From there, he'd come from Smallville to   Metropolis, where out of all the millions of   women in the city he'd met her.

Just what were the chances of that happening by   accident?

No; she had to believe that they were meant to   be together.

Lois had never believed in any sort of concept   of destiny or `soulmates', but yet where she   and Clark were concerned it just felt right.

Somehow, by some plan of Fate, Larry had been   destined to meet Charlie. And to fall in love.

And, she was determined, they would live   happily ever after.

Well, once she'd had enough of kissing him for   tonight, that was.

But, to her surprise, he broke off the kiss.

"Lois?" Clark sounded amused and just a little   chagrined. "You're kind of not with me," he   complained.

"Sorry." She gave him a sheepish smile. "Was   just thinking."

"Oh?" He still seemed mildly put out. Men and   their egos, she thought wryly.

"About us," she explained.

"Ah." Now he looked happier. "I don't know,   though... right now, I'd rather kiss you than   think about you."

"That can be arranged," she told him, and   promptly reached up to kiss him.

He kissed her back enthusiastically, but drew   back after a few minutes. "Thinking about us?"

"Yeah." She moved out of his arms and, taking   his hand, led him to one of her sofas. Once   seated, he immediately drew her back against   his chest, resting his head on top of hers.

"I guess I was just thinking about how amazing   it is that we met and fell in love," she   explained. "I mean, the chances against us   running into each other had to be astronomical.   Just think - if you'd never come to   Metropolis... if you'd never come to Earth!"

Clark was silent for a moment; then he said   slowly, "I'm not so sure. I mean, I know I   never believed that I'd find a woman who could   accept me as I am - who could *love* me despite   everything that I am -"

Lois interrupted him before he could continue.   "*Despite* what you are, Clark?" She shook her   head, then nudged him gently, chastisingly,   with her elbow. "Don't you know that I love you   precisely *because* of everything you are?    Because of your courage and your need to do   what's right, your loyalty and steadfastness -   and the fact that under your incredible   strength you're so vulnerable, Clark. And that   makes me believe that you need me just as much   as I need you."

His arms tightened around her. "Lois, you know   that I need you! What we did today - inventing   Superman - I couldn't have done that without   you. You gave me the courage to use my   abilities publicly." He kissed the top of her   head, then added, "Anyway, back to how amazing   it is that we met, and we were both single... I   think now that I've just been waiting for you.   No other woman meant anything to me... because   she wasn't you."

"You believe that everyone has a soulmate?"   Lois asked.

"I don't know. What I do know is this: if I can   come to this planet from wherever I came from -   maybe millions of miles away - and find the one   woman I know I'll love for the rest of my life,   then there has to be a chance at happiness for   everyone." He fell silent, nuzzling at her   hair.

Lois was silent too, wondering at his words. He   would love her for the rest of his life.

Well, that was how she felt too, but to hear   Clark say the words aloud... It was scary, and   at the same time the most wonderful words she   could ever have heard.

"Yeah, well, in our case it's probably just as   well," she said, teasing. "After all, we were   both convinced that no-one else would have us,   weren't we?"

She felt him smile against her head. "No-one   else is getting the chance!" he growled.

"Yeah, well, you make sure you don't encourage   any Superman groupies," Lois warned in   response.

"Hmmm..." he murmured consideringly. "Does that   include a certain reporter who loves to fly?"

"Hey!" She reached behind and punched his arm.   "I'm not a groupie!"

His hand curved around her chin, turning her   towards him. "No, you're not," he told her   softly. "You're my woman."

"And you're my man."

His gaze holding hers, Clark took Lois's hand   in his and raised it to his lips, brushing the   back of her hand with a soft kiss. "I love you,   Larry Long. And I love you, Lois Lane."

Lois reached around and up, covering Clark's   lips with hers in a sweet kiss. "And I love   you, Charlie King." Interspersing her words   with kisses, she continued. "And I love you,   Superman. And, most of all, I love you, Clark   Kent."

Before she'd finished her final words, Clark's   arms had come tightly around her again, and   within seconds she was lost in his kiss once   more.

Which was exactly where she wanted to be.

~ The End ~

Table of Contents

When Larry Met Charlie

Part 01

Part 02

Part 03

Part 04

Part 05

Part 06

Part 07

Part 08

Part 09

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23