Dear Lois by Shayne Terry Rated PG-13 Submitted October 2000 _______________________ ***WARNING*** This story contains some descriptions of conditions in a war-zone, which some readers may find difficult to read. ______________________ Author's Note: I'd like to thank a number of people. First, I'd like to thank Irene, without whose unflagging support I never would have written more than a simple letter. She persevered through the entire writing process, even when real life made it difficult. I'd like to thank Jo March for her help with researching Islam and the Middle East. I could find the information; she put a human face on it. I'd like to thank Dr. Klein's LabRat for her help in beta reading the story after it was done, and Wendy Richards both for her work as an editor, and her unflagging support. Finally I'd like to thank the readers at Zoom's Message Boards. Their feedback influenced the stories in ways both subtle and obvious. Their support kept me motivated, and their comments were both eloquent and enthusiastic. No one could ask for a better group of beta readers. Rights to all recognizable characters in this story belong to DC Comics and Warner Brothers, and no infringement is intended by their use in this story. Other characters are mine. This story takes place at the end of Whine, Whine, Whine. _______________________ Dear Lois, I didn't think I would ever write this; some things are too personal for words. All I have left are dreams of things that won't ever be, especially now that you have made your choice. I guess Dan Scardino can offer you all the things that I can't: an ordinary life, children. He can be there when you need him, and that is something I could never guarantee. Do you know what it is like to fly? Once I thought it was the most wonderful feeling in the world, a feeling of total and absolute freedom. I could just let go, and all the cares of the world floated away. There was nothing I enjoyed more than flying from place to place, seeing new sights, and meeting new people I didn't realize that I was searching for something. The void within me was so deep that I wasn't even aware that it existed. It was like I was born in darkness, and had lived my whole life without a single spark. Everything changed on the day I met you. Somehow I knew from the first moment that I heard your voice that I had found the place that I belonged. It was like the first time that I flew; I was filled with unutterable joy. I was instantly captivated and knew my life would never be the same again. I actually floated when I saw you at Luthor's party that first time. I almost revealed my secret to the creme of Metropolis' society at the sight of you. You were so beautiful that my heart actually hurt. You've only grown more beautiful each day that I have known you. Maybe there was a time I could lie to myself and say that there was another woman out there for me, but I cannot lie to myself any longer. I don't know what I will do without you. The light of my life has gone out, and I have only myself to blame. I guess the thing about flying is that you have to be willing to fall. You can't have the joy of soaring through the air without the risks that come with it. I can't regret a single moment I have spent with you. I wouldn't trade one of them for the world. All I know is that I cannot stay. You told me once that we all wear masks. I don't think that mine could survive seeing you with someone else. I think it's time for the mask to become the man. I love you, Lois, and I know I always will. Forever yours Clark ********************* The apartment was empty. The floors were devoid of furniture and the walls were completely bare. Not so much as a crumb remained to show that Clark Kent had once lived there. All that was left was the cavernous shell of a place. It was a match for the empty feeling growing inside her chest. Lois had been prepared to open her heart to Clark. She had been in love with him for longer than she had been willing to admit. Now she was glad that she had waited to tell him. He was like every other man in her life. Her father, Claude...none of them had been reliable. How she had fallen in love with a man who made a career out of running from her she would never know. She stepped through the doorway and looked around. It was immaculately clean. Clark always had been conscientious; he wasn't the sort of person who would ever lose his deposit. She felt almost disconnected from everything; the shock was almost too much to bear. "Are you looking for a room to rent? This just opened up. It would be nice to have a beautiful woman around the place for once." Startled, she turned to see a sweating fat man behind her. She didn't like the look in his piggish eyes. The man had no right to leer at her, and she was tempted to kick him in the shins. After a moment, she reconsidered, and simply said, "This just opened up?" "The last tenant just turned in his key a couple of hours ago. It's a lovely place, isn't it? The rent is reasonable too, only fifteen hundred dollars a month. Of course, apartments in this area go fast; you are really lucky to get it." Clark had been paying nine hundred a month, but he made many improvements to the place on his own. The apartment had been a dump when he first rented it. "I'll have to think about it." She left quickly, driving in a daze. She found herself at the Daily Planet, and for a moment was confused. After a moment, it became clear. The Planet was more of a home to her than anywhere else, and there was only one person she wanted to see. When she left the elevator and saw Perry White standing beside her desk, she knew that she was the last to know. The expression on his face was a dead giveaway. Lois felt a small spark of anger rise in the midst of her numbness. The least Clark could have done was to tell her before he told Perry. "Honey, we need to talk. Let's step into my office." Perry put his hand on her shoulder, and squeezed gently. Perry had been more of a father to her than her own father and for a moment she took comfort in his touch. He closed the door and Lois noticed that the blinds were already shut. He walked to his desk and sat on the edge of it. "Where is he?" Lois asked. It galled her to think that she had to ask Perry where he was. The anger grew within her, and she welcomed it. Perry sighed and said, "I should have known that it wouldn't work out between you two. I guess it was doomed from the start." He held his hands up in a placating gesture, "I tried to get him to stay, but he wouldn't hear of it." "Wasn't he required to give two' weeks notice?" Lois asked angrily. "The last time I tried to leave work, I practically had to sign away my first born child. Wasn't there anything you could have done to keep him here? It's not like he's not half of the best team of reporters in Metropolis." "He had two weeks' vacation coming." Perry sighed. "I tried to talk him out of it, hell, I even told him the story about the time Elvis left Priscilla." "Did he tell you why he was leaving?" "He said that he had a chance to be an international journalist. There's a civil war brewing in Quazistan, and he said they had made him an offer he couldn't refuse." Quazistan? The civil war that had been brewing there for the past eighteen months had already claimed the lives of four journalists. Why was Clark willingly entering a war zone when he should be at home with her? It hurt to think that he was so desperate to get away from her, and it made her angry as well. "Didn't he say anything to you at all, honey?" Lois shook her head, and for a moment felt on the verge of tears. "He didn't say anything to me, didn't leave a note...he didn't leave me a single clue that he was going." She stared into the distance, willing herself not to cry. "After all we've been through together, I would have thought he respected me enough to tell me he was leaving to my face." It was a shock to find out that she had been wrong. "I thought I meant more to him than that." She rose to her feet and grimaced. "You know what? Who needs him? Lois Lane was the best reporter in the city a long time before Kent ever came into the picture. I can do the work myself." She headed for the door, then hesitated with her hand on the knob. "Let me know if you hear from him." She rushed through the door and headed for her desk. She was so distracted by her own thoughts that she did not see Jimmy headed for her, his arms filled with files. They slammed into each other and Lois fell back against her desk. "I wish people would have a little more consideration around here. Nobody gives a damn about anyone else! Nobody pays attention anymore!" The look on Jimmy's face caused her to backtrack. "I'm sorry, Jimmy. I guess I'm venting a little. Let me help you get these up." No reason to let Clark undo the progress she had been making with Dr. Friskin. Sure, he had betrayed her, but she didn't need him anymore. She would immerse herself in the work. As they always said, living well is the best revenge. She helped Jimmy gather the files, never noticing the letter that had fallen under her desk. *************** It was harder than she would have thought, having Clark gone. It had only been a week, and she found herself living from day to day in a daze. His absence wasn't made any easier by the fact that Superman had pledged his full time intervention in Quazistan. Metropolis had been quiet since Superman had left. News was slow, and Lois found herself with more time to think than she would have preferred. It nagged at her not to know why Clark had left. Certainly, things had been a little strained between them while she struggled with her attraction to Dan Scardino, Clark and Superman. Leaving like he had, however, had been an overreaction. The more her anger faded, the stronger her hurt grew. Hadn't he loved her? He had said that he did. Was it all a lie? If she had an address or a phone number, she would dearly love to give him a piece of her mind. As Doctor Friskin had said earlier this week, she was lacking closure. Lois cursed again. She was having trouble with the power cord to her computer. She had been using Clark's, but a new reporter had taken the cubical just this morning. She needed to send in the finishing pieces to her story. She tried to ignore the pang it gave her to see someone else at Clark's desk. At least Perry hadn't tried to force her to take a new partner. "Jimmy!" She grabbed the young man as he was passing by and said, "Could you take a look at this? The people down in maintenance can't get up here till tomorrow and I need to get the information in tonight." She hated the wheedling tone in her voice, but she had found herself growing weepier as the days passed. She had always despised women who wept at the least provocation. Anyone who expected to live in a man's world had better be willing to act as tough as a man. Crying at a scene in a romantic movie was one thing; losing composure at work was quite another. She was finding the distinction harder and harder to make these days. Jimmy patted her awkwardly on the hand, and said, "I've got a minute, Lois. Let me take a look at it." He ducked under her desk to check the connections. Lois found herself wondering where Clark was. Her eyes strayed to the bank of television monitors that seemed permanently tuned to LNN. They were covering the Quazistan situation at the moment, and she moved forward to listen. "Chemical weapons caused the deaths of over fifteen hundred Quazistani Muslims in the city of Katar today, many of them women and children." Streets littered with bodies contorted in agony, the brutal remnants of a brutal war. Flashed images of horror filled the screen, burning themselves into her retina. She felt a moment of sharp concern for Clark. Perry had told her that he was reporting from Rial, not Katar, but... "Superman had managed to contain much of two earlier attacks in the cities of Rial and Quatan, but was busy stopping a battle between the last remaining tank divisions of Generals Alsadin and Hussein when the attack took place." A shot of Superman standing in the midst of the bodies, his shoulders slumped with defeat. Even through the distance of the zoom lens, his pain was easy to see. Lois wished she could reach out to him. She ignored the sounds of Jimmy's grumbling under her desk. "Despite Superman's early successes in disarming the tanks and large weapons of war by both sides, the situation remains largely unchanged." Scenes of shattered buildings and continual weapons fire were interposed with earlier pictures of Superman bringing weapons by the armful to a United Nations watch post at the border. "Superman has been working almost twenty four hours a day taking weapons from combatants on both sides and rescuing victims of bombings and chemical attacks. His continual pleas for peace have been falling on deaf ears." "In a nation with a well-deserved reputation as the most heavily armed country in the Middle East, it has been estimated that there are over three million combatants in a nation of fifteen million people. Though the United Nations has estimated that Superman has collected over fifteen thousand weapons in the last week alone, he has been unable to make an appreciable dent in the fighting." The close-up of Superman made him look haggard and exhausted. It looked as though he had not slept in the past week. He had not been shaving and his eyes blazed red. The expression on his face was far grimmer than Lois had ever seen it. It was as though he was losing his soul. It was obvious that this footage had been shot earlier in the day, before the chemical attack. If he had already been hurting that badly, how badly must he be hurting now? She ached for him, and wished he had the time to come and talk with her. Just because she was not interested in him as a lover did not mean that she could not be his friend. He looked like he very much needed a friend. At least he had Clark to talk to, if he ever took the time. She heard Jimmy curse as he bumped his head. "The United Nations continues to be deadlocked as to which of Quazistan's three governments are to be considered legitimate, and over the decision to send in troops." People were dying, and the United Nations was arguing about technicalities? "Issues of legitimacy are complicated by recent changes in leadership among all three factions. Until the deadlock is broken there is no end in sight for the fighting." Even if she could not be to Clark what she had wanted to be, she should still try to salvage the friendship. If Superman was as affected by the sights he was seeing, after what he had been dealing with every day for the past two years and more, then Clark must be devastated. "I've got it working, Lois. You might want to talk to the janitorial staff; it doesn't look like they've cleaned under there in a year!" "I got into a little argument with them last month," Lois said distractedly. "They've been boycotting my desk ever since." "Well, I've got to run." Jimmy paused. "Oh yeah! It looks like you dropped this." Jimmy handed her a letter, and she nodded absently to him. She took the letter blindly and set it on her desk. She began making phone calls. After an hour, she managed to find the hotel Clark was staying at, and asked to speak to his supervisor. Clark was working under special assignment, and was likely rooming with some of the other reporters. He might not even be in the hotel at all. His boss, however, would be easier to find, and would be sure to know where to reach him. "Mr. Michaelson?" The line was fuzzy, but she could understand the voice on the other end perfectly well. "My name is Lois Lane. I'm Clark Kent's partner...ah, his former partner at the Daily Planet, and I was wondering if I could get a message to him." She listened to the voice on the other end with growing horror. Clark had not been seen since the second day of the war, and in the confusion of refugees, destroyed buildings and periodic gunfire, no one had been able to find him. She did not remember disconnecting, but found herself staring into space, her mind blank. She had loved Clark. She should have gone after him, and even if she had to have Superman hold him down, made him listen to her. It was several minutes before she could even look down at her desk, her mind blank and her chest numb. It was then that she noticed that the plain white envelope in front of her had her name written on it in Clark's handwriting. With trembling hands, she opened the envelope, and began to read. >>>Dear Lois, I'm sorry I didn't have the courage to tell you that I'm leaving in person, but I could not see you again without falling to my knees and begging you to change your mind. I owe it to you to respect your decision, and I hope that in time we can be friends again. It's hard to write this; it hurts sometimes to open your heart to someone knowing that your feelings are not returned. All I have left are dreams of things that won't ever be. I guess Dan Scardino can offer you all the things that I can't: an ordinary life, children, and dependability. He can be there when you need him, and that is something I could never guarantee. >>> Clark thought she had chosen Dan Scardino?!? It was clear now, why he had left, but it made Lois angry that he had so little faith in her judgment. Had he had so little faith in his own value that he assumed he would always be the loser? How had he known that she was making a choice anyway? The only people she had told were Dan and Superman. Superman was far too ethical to have been telling tales, but maybe Dan had... >>>Do you know what it is like to fly? Once I thought it was the most wonderful feeling in the world, a feeling of total and absolute freedom. I could just let go, and all the cares of the world floated away. There was nothing I enjoyed more than flying from place to place, seeing new sights, and meeting new people.>>> What the hell was Clark talking about? She knew what flying was like; she had done it often enough in Superman's arms. The possibility of Clark's death was making it hard to concentrate; the knowledge that he might have left over a misunderstanding was almost more than she could bear. Flying was a wonderful sensation, but she'd give it up in an instant just to take a simple walk in the rain. >>>I didn't realize that I was searching for something. The void within me was so deep that I wasn't even aware that it existed. It was like I was born in darkness, and had lived my whole life without a single spark. Everything changed on the day I met you. Somehow I knew from the first moment that I heard your voice that I had found the place that I belonged. It was like the first time that I flew; I was filled with unutterable joy. I was instantly captivated and knew my life would never be the same again.>>> Lois felt her eyes well with tears. They had wasted so much time. She had been so stubborn, refusing to admit how she had felt for Clark. Even when she had admitted to herself that she loved him, she had let silly things get in their way. Now that Clark was missing, it was worse than she could have imagined knowing that she had let him slip through her fingers. She should have talked to Clark before she spoke to Dan. Two hours may have made the difference between life or death. Two hours could have meant her soul. >>>I actually floated when I saw you at Luthor's party that first >>>time. I almost revealed my secret to the creme of Metropolis' >>>society at the sight of you. You were so beautiful that my heart >>>actually hurt.>>> She had felt like floating too when she saw him that day. She had known that he was attractive, of course, but she hadn't realized just how attractive he was until the moment she had first seen him in his tuxedo. It had made her defensive. What right did a hack from Nowheresville have being so good looking? Clark had been even better looking than Claude, and remembering that experience had helped to harden her heart against him. It was one more reason to curse Claude; in retrospect, the most unforgivable. She reread the passage again. Clark had a secret? She'd suspected for a long time that he'd known Superman before he came to Metropolis. Clark always seemed to be able to get in touch with the man of steel at a moment's notice. No wonder Trask had taken the Kents hostage. She frowned. It wasn't really the sort of secret you blurted out in the middle of an upper crust party though. Had Clark been keeping other secrets? >>>You've only grown more beautiful each day that I have known you. Maybe there was a time I could lie to myself and say that there was another woman out there for me, but I cannot lie to myself any longer. I don't know what I will do without you. The light of my life has gone out, and I have only myself to blame. I guess the thing about flying is that you have to be willing to fall. You can't have the joy of soaring through the air without the risks that come with it.>>> Lois stood, her eyes burning. She quickly slipped into the conference room, and closed the blinds. She locked the door, then sank to the floor and wept. It was quite some time before she could see well enough to finish the letter, which was now crumpled and stained with her tears. >>>I can't regret a single moment I have spent with you. I wouldn't >>>trade one of them for the world. All I know is that I cannot stay. You told me once that we all wear masks. I don't think that mine could survive seeing you with someone else. Perhaps it's time for the mask to become the man. I love you Lois. I always will. Forever yours, Clark >>> What was he talking about? Masks. Lois sniffled, then quickly read the letter again. Clark talked about flying and floating about masks and secrets, and never being able to guarantee that he would be there for her. He had lied to her so many times, run out on the least excuse, and he seemed to say in an indirect way that it hadn't all been about her. Clark had always been curiously close to Superman. It was strange that she spent so much time with two men, and yet had only seen the two of them together once. Clark was always running off moments before Superman appeared. It was odd. Why hadn't she questioned his running off to call the police when she knew perfectly well that he had a cell phone? She knew that Clark was no coward; he had thrown himself in front of a bullet for her, so why wasn't he ever there when danger threatened? Was Clark trying to tell her, in his own oblique way, that Diana Stride had been right? Had Clark been lying to her for all the time she knew him? Was she the most inept and unobservant reporter on the planet? God, she hoped so. If Clark was Superman, then he couldn't be injured physically. That meant that he was still alive, that there was still a chance for them both. It hurt that he had been lying to her, but it hurt far less than having Clark dead. Lois stomach clenched at the thought that she might be wrong. Until she was sure, she was afraid to think, afraid that, somehow, thinking about it might make it not be true. If Clark were Superman then there would be plenty of time to think about his side of the story. There would be so many issues to deal with, the lies, his feelings, his reasons for doing what he did. If he was alive, then she could ask him. But she could easily be wrong. The specter of death rode heavily in her mind, and she had a curious sense of fragility. It was as though she was a piece of crystal poised at the edge of a precipice, waiting for the single breath that would shatter her into a million pieces. Until she knew that Clark was alive, she couldn't think about anything else. She didn't have the energy. All that was keeping her going was that one slim ray of hope. She had to find out. She could think of only one way to know for sure. She picked up the phone and began to make plans. *************** Late that evening, Lois stood leaning against a door. She was drenched by the run from the car to the front porch, and knew she didn't look much better than a drowned rat. She rang the doorbell again, shivering miserably in the cold. Martha Kent opened the door, and said, "Come in, Lois. You must be freezing out there!" Martha looked almost as though she had been expecting Lois to come, and for a moment Lois wondered why. "Is Clark here?" "He's in Quazistan, covering the civil war. What in the world would make you think he might be here?" Lois sat down, watching Martha closely. "Clark has been missing for almost a week. I'm afraid that something has happened to him." "I've already heard. His supervisor called me earlier this week." Martha's expression tightened for a moment, and she looked almost angry. To Lois' trained eye she didn't look like a mother bereaved. "He's planning on just vanishing, isn't he?" Martha looked startled at the accusation, and Lois could see that she had struck a nerve. "He already pretended to be dead once, now he's planning to make it permanent!" Now Martha looked alarmed. "Lois..." "He left me a letter!" Lois stood up, pulling the letter from her handbag, waving it in the air. "He told me everything, but he didn't even say goodbye!" "I told him that not seeing you was a mistake, Lois, but men are sometimes stubborn and thick headed." "Did you know that I was going to tell him that I loved him the night he left? I walked into an empty apartment and I didn't..." Lois was dismayed to find herself breaking down. She sat again, devoid of her momentary burst of energy. "I didn't even know what happened to him." She felt Martha's arms wrap around her, and she sobbed. She was barely aware of Martha's words, but the hug was comforting. "Everything's going to be all right," Martha said. "Clark's not dead. He loves you and you love him. He's wanted to tell you his secret for a long time, but..." "I was so worried. I hoped I might be right, but I was so afraid that I wasn't. I mean, sure, I'd never seen them both in one place, but..." She shuddered and bit back a sob, "I don't know what I would do without him!" She cried. The tears she had been holding back since she first realized that Clark was gone came in a cleansing flood in her relief that he was all right. They had let too many foolish things come between them, and now that she had a second chance, she wasn't going to waste it. That didn't mean that she had forgiven him. They had a lot to talk about. ************************************ Clark let himself fall towards the ground. He had the strength to land properly, but felt little reason to care. The only woman he would ever love did not love him, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw scenes of death. His sense of smell was more of a curse to him than a blessing; he could still smell the minute traces of blood and urine and gunpowder on his costume. No matter how many times he had washed it, no matter how many times he washed himself, the smell would not come out. He could only hope that time at home would help him decompress, would help to dull some of the images that he couldn't seem to shake. The Kent farm was as far from the killing fields of Quazistan as he could imagine. Not that he wouldn't still hear gunfire in the midst of the Kansas wilderness. The memories of death and the dying, of the times he'd arrived moments too late, haunted him. He stumbled as he landed behind the barn, his eyes burning and blurry. He had not slept in over a week, and he had refused to shed a tear. A scene of contorted bodies flashed through his mind, and he could almost hear the sounds of gunfire. It took him a moment to realize that it was the distant sound of thunder. It had rained quite recently, and the ground outside the barn was muddy. He quickly spun and changed into an old, gray sweat suit. He burned his costume with his heat vision; it was gone in a flash, but the smell remained, clinging to him like a legacy of shame. He heard a small sound behind him, and he turned quickly. Had he not been so preoccupied he would have noticed it before he had ever reached the barn. Once, he would have noticed her heartbeat from half a city away. "Clark." It hurt to see how beautiful she still was. Especially now that he felt dirty and soul-sick. He couldn't look her in the eye. "I suppose I made it obvious in the letter." She knew his secret. In a way, it was a relief. He hadn't been thinking clearly when he wrote the letter, but he was glad that she knew. He was glad that he didn't have to lie to her anymore. "How did you know where I would be?" "I saw the newscasts. You didn't look like you had slept in a while. This is the only home you have left." Lois stared at him for a long moment, then said, "And it was unnecessary. Metropolis is your home." "I had to go, Lois." He refused to look at her for fear of breaking down. "I wish you had talked to me about it before you left. I always thought friends talked things out before making major decisions like this. Weren't we friends?" "It just felt...easier." It hurt, hearing her use the past tense. He had hoped to at least salvage the friendship, once he had time to work things out. Of course, he hadn't had much time over the past week for anything, other than guns and death. "Easier for who?" Lois turned away from him. "I didn't get the note until this morning. I thought that you were...that you were..." His head snapped up at the sound of pain in her voice. "I'm sorry! I didn't realize..." He stepped towards her, and she flinched. That hurt worse than anything. He never wanted her to be afraid of him. "I never would have wanted you to think..." "You let me think that when you got shot by Capone and his gang." "That was different. I didn't have time to think..." "You could have come to me later, let me know..." She sighed. "You've been lying to me for a long time." "I had reasons..." "I know. I've worked some of them out for myself, and I've talked to your mother about some of the others." She sighed and stuffed her hands in her pockets. "I swore to myself that I wasn't going to get angry." "I don't know what to say." He stood before her, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "What did you tell Scardino about this little trip?" "I dumped Scardino even before I dumped Superman." He gaped at her. "Then who were you talking about? You said that you loved someone else...that they needed you..." "I was talking about you, Clark. I was all set to open my heart to you that night. I came to your apartment...and found that you had left me." He gaped, speechless. "You chose me?" "You. I chose you over Superman, over Dan...over every other man in the world. Then you left me. You left me like my father, like Claude...like every other man in my life." Lois' eyes never left his face. "I never expected that of you. But it hurt a whole lot worse when you did it. I was hurt...and disappointed." Clark's throat felt as though it had a knot in it, and he couldn't speak. How could he have been so mistaken? He had come so close to attaining his dream. How could he have botched everything so badly? "I trusted you, Clark!" Lois closed her eyes for a moment. "I told both of you things I never told anybody in my life. I opened my heart to you, and you stomped on it." "I always loved you, Lois. I always will." Clark stared at the ground in front of him. "I guess I just couldn't believe that you would want someone like me if you knew." Lois stared at him. "What are you talking about?" "You've always deserved the best of everything. You deserve a home, a family, a husband, children. I don't even know if I can have children with someone from Earth." He stepped around Lois and quietly opened the door to the barn. He gestured for her to enter and she did. "We could always adopt, he continued, "but what sort of family life would that be? You are in danger because of who and what I am, but at least you are an adult. You can choose to ignore danger; you weren't all that concerned about safety even before I came on the scene." Lois nodded cautiously. He knew that she probably had had a dozen counter arguments prepared, and so he conceded the point. "But a child has no choice." He paced slightly. "A child would be horribly vulnerable, and we couldn't even let it know why for fear that it would tell someone." He hesitated for a moment, then said, "I could never guarantee that I would be there at the important times either, for the child or for you." He tried to smile, the expression looking more like a grimace. "You know what it's like, having a father you can't depend on. I've heard you talk about it often enough." "This is about us, Clark! This isn't about anyone but you and me." Angrily, she gestured with one hand. "Who said we had to have children anyway? Given my family history it might be better for me not to have children anyway. I'd probably be a horrible mother." Clark couldn't help himself. "No...you'd make the most wonderful mother in the world." His voice softened as he allowed his true feelings to come to the surface. "And you would be the best father." Lois stared at him. "That's not really the issue at all." "What is the issue then?" "Do we love each other enough to make this work? I do." Clark stepped towards her involuntarily. "Never doubt how much I love you." Lois stepped forward, her face fixed. "You doubted my love for you. Did you think I was so shallow as to love you only for the cape? Did you think that I wouldn't love Superman if I knew he was just Clark?" She stepped forward again, until they were almost face to face. "Why do you keep selling yourself short?" Clark sighed, an unfamiliar lump in his throat. He tried to speak, and couldn't. He tried again. "I get confused sometimes. When you came to me as Superman and told me you didn't love me..." He sighed. "Somewhere deep down inside, I forgot that you weren't talking to me, Clark. And with Scardino in the picture, I guess I just assumed..." "I never would have started dating Scardino if..." She visibly stopped herself, then leaned against his chest. "Let's not fight, Clark. We've done too much of that. Just promise me that you will come back to me." "I love you, Lois. If you want me in your life, that's where I'll be." He bent to kiss her, then pulled back. He was suddenly conscious of the way he smelled. "I stink. Maybe I can get a shower and then we can get a little to eat and talk." He smiled gently. "I guess we have a lot to catch up on." She looked at him with a strange expression. "You smell fine to me." She shrugged, and followed him out of the barn. "Your mother kept dinner warm for you." They walked together up to the house, holding hands, but not standing too close. *************** Clark was in the shower for over an hour and no matter how much or how hard he scrubbed, the scent of death would not leave him. He looked forward to relaxing with Lois, but in the back of his mind, he could hear the sounds of gunfire. He leaned heavily against the shower wall, his eyes closed and ice cold water sluicing down his back. The temperature of the water matched the coldness in his heart. Though he was overjoyed to find that there was still hope with Lois, it was overshadowed by the feelings of tired numbness that overwhelmed him. He had destroyed three of his mother's best wash towels trying to scrub away the singular scent of death and war before he had forced himself to stop. It was a hopeless task; the scent covered him like a miasma. While he couldn't actually rub his skin raw, he had done his best. There wasn't any point in ruining any more of his mother's towels for a hopeless cause. Perhaps Doctor Klein at Star Labs could help. He heard the soft knock at the door even over the sound of the shower. He sighed. For all that Lois was his strength, there were some places he refused to take her. There were some horrors that no one should have to face, much less the woman he loved. "Clark?" Lois ventured quietly, "You've been in there for over an hour." He turned the shower off, then dried himself at super speed, throwing the smoking towel into the corner, with barely a glance to make sure it did not catch fire. He wrapped himself in a robe, and quickly opened the door. "Oh!" Lois stared up at him for a moment. It took him a moment to realize what she was seeing. Without his glasses, and with his hair still wet, he looked like someone who was half Clark and half Superman. In truth, that was what he was. There was a time when he had been able to lie to himself, to tell himself that he was Clark, and that Superman was simply something that he did, not who he was. That was before he had gone to Quazistan, before he had held dying children in his arms, knowing that it was his own choices that had condemned them. Before he had realized that there were some things too large even for a Superman to handle. "The food was getting cold, so I put it back in the oven." Lois gestured towards the kitchen, and he followed her down the stairs." Martha and Jonathan already headed up to bed." He pulled the covered dishes from the oven, not bothering with the pretense of using a potholder or dishtowel, while Lois poured them both cups of coffee. "It's decaf. I know it doesn't matter to you, but it's getting late, and..." Lois was babbling again. Clark allowed himself a moment to enjoy listening to the sound of her voice. He had thought he would never again get to enjoy the little things. Listening to her babble, enjoying a cup of coffee together, enjoying the way the light hit her face. "Clark?" Clark shook himself for a moment. He had allowed himself to drift off. He must be more tired than he had thought. "Yes, Lois?" "Maybe we should talk about this in the morning?" Clark wasn't entirely sure what they had been talking about, but he was glad to agree. They finished the last of his mother's lasagne in quiet contemplation, and then Lois gently led him to bed. He protested for a moment. He could sleep anywhere, while she would be uncomfortable sleeping on the couch. But she refused to argue with him, and he didn't have the energy to insist. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. It seemed like an eternity until he awoke. Nightmares filled his sleep in quick succession. Lois dead, his parents, Perry, Jimmy. Those he had failed to save rising up to accuse him. The faces of the children who had been killed... Metropolis a ghost town, with no one left alive to accuse him of anything. Everything was his fault. When he finally woke, it was with a crash as he came falling to the floor. He was disoriented for a moment, unsure of where he was. His body was soaked with sweat, which was another unfamiliar feeling. He was breathing quickly, and it took him several moments to calm himself, even after he realized that he could hear the heartbeats of Lois and his parents. The sun was already rising. He had slept almost seven hours, yet he still felt tired and groggy. The sense of emptiness that had almost overwhelmed him the night before had retreated somewhat, but it was still there. He stepped into the shower and out again at super speed and quickly dressed. He found some of the cold coffee from the night before and poured himself a cup, heating it absently with his vision as he stared out at the sunrise. He was startled when Lois touched him on the shoulder. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Lois laid her head against his side and said, "Sometimes we get too busy to see what we have." "I have to go back," Clark said tersely. "I can fly you back to Metropolis as soon as you are ready." "I thought we might stay a while and talk." "This isn't our life, Lois." Clark gestured towards the Kansas skyline. "Peace and quiet, country beauty, safety...none of it has ever been us. It's all an illusion anyway. There was another one of those school shootings not two hundred miles from here last month." He was silent for a moment. "People used to move to small towns so their kids could be safe." "It's still safer than the big city." "There isn't any place safe anymore. Maybe there never was." "When are you coming back?" "I have things to finish." Clark stared bleakly at the horizon. "People are dying right now as we speak." "You can't save everyone, Clark. You never could." "That doesn't mean that I can't try!" The words emerged from Clark like bullets. "I keep making promises to myself. Every time I hand a dead child to its mother and she looks at me with dead eyes, I swear that it won't happen again. I'll get there a little faster. I'll take the guns away from the men who are giving them to children. I'll stop the children from becoming orphans, the parents from becoming shells of humanity." He clenched his fists. "It's a lie, every time. Even when I do manage to save some of them, five die for every one I save. Even the ones I save die later on. Every time I hold one of them, one of the dead, I feel ashamed." Lois moved to embrace him, and Clark flinched. "I need to finish it, Lois. I love you, but I can't turn my back on these people. If there is any way to stop this, I have to try." "And what if there isn't?" Lois grabbed his hand and held it in both of hers. "You are tearing yourself up about something you may not be able to change. Even if you take these people's guns, they will continue to attack each other." "Then I have to try to save as many of the innocent as I can." "What about Clark? When do you plan to bring him back?" Clark was silent for long moments. Lois held his hand to her face. "Clark, have you ever considered that this is one situation where Clark Kent may be able to do as much good as Superman?" He stared at her for several moments. "The power of the press? Quazistan is crawling with reporters." Lois shook her head. "Half the news organizations have been pulling out. Each of the different factions has been infuriated by the refusal of the press to declare them the legitimate government, and have been closing the borders to the press. Six reporters were killed yesterday." Clark winced. Those people were his colleagues. The odds were that he had met at least some of them. He should have been able to stop the killings. "Besides, none of them would tell the story the way you would. If the UN insists on sitting on the fence, then make sure that they know why they shouldn't. Show them why they have to act." "If the scenes LNN was showing don't convince them, I don't know what I could do that would make any more of an impact." "All they saw were bodies. Give them the truth about each loss. I've seen your work, Clark. You really can change the world if you really try." Lois stared up at him, and for a moment he felt the first flash of hope that he had felt in days. Her voice grew softer. "But when you need to sleep...come home to Metropolis, please." She embraced him, and this time he did not push her away. "I know the world needs Superman...but I need Clark." He knew she was crying. He felt like crying as well, but he couldn't find any tears. *************************************************** Each day that passed seemed to be an eternity. Lois spent much of her time listening for reports of Superman, and searching for reporting by Clark Kent. Her own work she did as if on automatic pilot, barely noticing each story that passed by her desk. She knew that her coworkers were walking on eggshells around her. She didn't care. All that mattered was that she knew that Clark was all right, and not just physically. She was seeing signs that concerned her. Clark was allowing the press to get more pictures of him as Superman, and she could see the strain in his eyes. The sheer pain that came through in his writing almost took her breath away. Clark had never written so eloquently, or so powerfully, before. Each piece brought home the truth in a way that had not been seen before. Clark was writing several articles a day, each a poignant reminder of the costs of war. She had even heard rumors that he had somehow convinced several of Quazistan's less conservative newspapers to print his articles, since he was perfectly fluent in both Arabic and Turkish. He seemed to have gotten the respect of at least some of the various faction members; he had quoted several sources high in the chains of command of each group. Of course, while Clark Kent the reporter had gained the respect of members of various factions, Superman was increasingly seen as a military threat by all of them. In spite of Clark Kent's successes, the exodus of western reporters from Quazistan continued. Western reporters continued to be assaulted and killed in increasing numbers. The ubiquitous LNN news crews were still there, but they were increasingly becoming the only source of news about the war other than Clark, at least for those outside of the country. Even the local reporters were having trouble getting news outside the border; phone services had become only intermittent. Superman appeared less often now, but was more effective than he had been before. He seemed to be concentrating his efforts on saving noncombatants first. He was also taking care to allow the LNN news crews to catch him in the act. His presence was one of the few things keeping them there; without him, they might have gone home as well. Lois stared down at the magazine on her desk. A picture of Superman holding a child out to her mother had made the cover of Newsweek. This child was alive, but Lois knew that there had been so many who weren't. She could see the fatigue in his eyes, the pain of knowing the things he could not change. She sighed. When Clark had dropped her back at her apartment, he had promised that he would visit. It had been almost a week, and there was no sign of him. He no longer had an apartment in Metropolis, but Lois's window was always open, and he knew it. It wasn't supposed to hurt like this. She loved Clark, and he returned that love. They should have been spending their time together, wrapped in each other's arms. They should not be stuck half a world away from each other. They had problems, but they had all the time in the world to explore them. It would happen when Clark returned. That was assuming he ever returned. There was no sign that the war was going to abate anytime soon. The royalists were slowly losing their battle, but the military and the rebels were still going strong. The UN was still dithering as well. It was frustrating. For all of Clark's work, there didn't seem to be anything one man could do to stop a war. Lois sighed again, and turned the magazine face down. If she didn't do some work soon, Perry would fire her. Then Clark really wouldn't have a place to come back to. She didn't think he would appreciate her living out of a cardboard box on the streets. She had gone undercover as a homeless person once, and she never wanted to repeat the experience. It had taken her three weeks to get the lice out of everything... She sat down and began to make an inventory of her stories for the day. Just as her eyes started drifting towards the magazine again, her phone rang. "Oh hello, Dr. Klein." She spoke absently, having dropped her pencil. She bent down to pick it up, and noticed that the underside of her desk really did need cleaning. She was going to have to finally give in and make peace with the cleaning staff... "They what?!?" Lois bumped her head against the underside of her desk in shock. There had been a break-in at STAR labs, and the last remaining sample of Kryptonite had been stolen. Two guards had been killed, and the lab had been trashed, as though to conceal what had been taken. Dr. Klein had checked the vault and found it empty. "I'll warn him. Do they have any leads as to who might have stolen it?" The videotapes of the raid had been taken when the guards were killed. What else was taken was unknown, but Doctor Klein suspected that some of the physiological data he had taken had been copied. "Thank you Doctor Klein. I'm sure Superman will appreciate your warning. Yes, it's a good thing he's overseas, but it'll be a problem when he gets back." She dropped the phone receiver in its slot, and grabbed Jimmy by the sleeve as he was walking by. "Jimmy! I need you to see if you can find out about any unusually large cash transactions made on a Metropolis bank in the last month." "Which bank?" "All of them." "Lois...do you know how many banks there are in the central business district alone, much less throughout all of Metropolis? This is a city with sixteen million people, after all. There must be..." He trailed off at the look in her eyes. "How large a cash transaction?" He asked weakly. "Five million and up." Luthor had paid five million for his chunk of Kryptonite. Lois remembered how horrified she had been when she had come across that figure in the investigation following his death. The price had likely only gone up since then, as the supply had gradually dwindled. The rest of the afternoon was fruitless. The criminals had left no fingerprints, and there were no living witnesses. They had even stolen the videotapes from the back up system. The theft of the Kryptonite was being hushed up, but it seemed to be the only thing of any importance that had been taken from the lab. Bobby Bigmouth had no idea as to who might have pulled off the crime, but he did let Lois know that it was open knowledge in the underworld that the Quazistanis had offered fifteen million to anyone who provided them with the means to kill Superman. Clark was in danger, and he didn't even know it. The images ran through Lois' mind. All it would take was a hidden sniper with a Kryptonite bullet, or even several. One false victim with Kryptonite hidden in a lead lined pocket, waiting to be pulled out at a moments notice. They could even poison him with it like Diana Stride had, though Lois would be both surprised and disappointed if that particular trick worked again. All that would be left would be one more body to bury in a war that wasn't even his. Lois had left several messages with the News Bureau head to have Clark call her, but Clark hadn't been in. It wasn't surprising. Clark had been performing rescues all day, and had taken to the habit of just sending his stories in electronically. There was little she could do, unless Jimmy had come up with something. There wasn't any way to know which faction would be successful in offering a contract on Superman's life. Several phone calls showed her that all three factions had made similar offers. They were willing to spend millions of dollars to kill someone who was only out to help them. It was almost impossible for Lois to understand. The world needed Superman. She needed Clark. She tried to ignore the feelings of grief that were already nibbling at the edges of her consciousness. Every man she had ever loved had left her, and deep in the pit of her stomach she couldn't help but believe that Clark would do the same. Even if he didn't mean to leave. She wouldn't allow that to happen. She would warn him, and he would be careful, and they would find the Kryptonite before it did any damage. As soon as she realized that she wouldn't be able to make much more progress that day, Lois decided to head home. Sleep was the last thing on her mind, but she needed to be at her best if she was going to be able to help Clark. She opened her door, and set her bag on the floor. She shrugged out of the heavy leather jacket that Clark had given her when they flew back from the farm. It smelled like him, and she wore it as often as she could these days. It comforted her, and she was only afraid that the scent would begin to fade. If only Clark would call, or even better, come. Then they could do what they did best; put their minds together and come up with a solution neither would have seen alone. They were stronger together than apart; why wouldn't Clark see that? Lois locked the door, then headed for her bedroom. She kept a stakeout kit in the back of her closet just for this sort of occasion. She had taken several steps into her bedroom when she realized that something was wrong. It wasn't anything that she could put her finger on, but her gut instinct told her that something was not right. She started backing out of her bedroom when she heard stealthy footsteps behind her. She kicked out with her right foot, and felt it connect heavily. She turned to see a man dressed in black, wearing a ski mask, and carrying a gun. She managed to kick the gun from his hand. When he rushed at her, she threw him over her shoulder in a move that she knew her martial arts instructor would have been proud of. She kicked the man in the face when he started to get up; she could hear the bones in his nose crunch. He dropped to the ground, not unconscious, but in too much pain to do anything else. Lois' heart was pounding, and her breath was harsh in her ears, as much from fear and shock as from any real exertion. She grabbed blindly for her phone. The sooner the police collected this goon, the better. Her heart was pounding so heavily that she did not notice the second figure attack her from behind until it was too late. *************** Lois drifted in and out of consciousness, aware that she was being moved, but of little more. From time to time she would hear her captors speak in a guttural language she did not recognize. When she finally woke, she was groggy and unsure of where she was, or of what had happened to her. Her head pounded, and her mouth had a familiar chemical aftertaste. She was lying on canvas. The floor beneath it was hard, and it vibrated. She could hear the drone of airplane engines. She pried her eyelids open cautiously, finding them matted over. The light burned her retinas and it was all she could do not to groan or wince. She was lying on the floor of a cargo plane, both hands cuffed around a cargo pole. She was surrounded by large crates, many covered by green tarps, and all of which were strapped down. She had been lying on her cuffed arm, and it had fallen asleep. From her prone position she couldn't see any of her captors, but she could hear male laughter coming from somewhere behind her. She had no idea how long she had been out; her watch had been broken in the scuffle at her apartment. She rested for a moment, the pounding in her head almost overwhelming. It felt as though they had overdosed her. Lois had been drugged a number of times before, and it had never given her a headache this severe. She struggled to her knees. The pole was between her hands and the chain to the handcuff. She couldn't stand because a cross pole intersected the pole between her hands at about waist height. She peered over the crates in both directions, and saw that she had been right about being in a cargo plane. Four armed men were sitting in the rear section, talking, and the front was closed off by a large metal door. Lois had decided a while back that she was sick of being kidnapped, and had decided that she would be more prepared in the future. She strained to crouch and reach her pockets while not rising above the level of the crates where she would be noticed. She reached her right pocket and cursed. They had apparently searched her. They had removed the handcuff key she had taken to keeping in her pocket. They had taken almost everything else as well. She dropped back to the floor and ran her hands through her hair. She had practiced lockpicking with a hairpin a few times with Jack, the young ex- criminal Clark had helped to rehabilitate. She had started keeping a hairpin as a second possibility. Most of her practice had been behind her back, because that had been how she expected to be cuffed, but she should be able to do even better when she could see. She had small wrists, and should be able to reach the lock. The hairpin wasn't in her hair. It must have fallen out while she was being transported. Lois sagged as she realized that she would likely have little chance to escape before the people who had captured her put their plan into action. If it was the Quazistanis, they would have no compunctions about shooting her. She was known to have a special connection to Superman, and she had probably raised some red flags with her phone calls. They knew that she would be useful as bait, that she might have useful knowledge about Superman as well. However, they didn't really need her. All they needed to do was to put a large number of innocent people in danger, and Clark would come...unless he happened to be distracted by some other disaster of equal proportions. A horrifying thought came to Lois. Now that she knew that Clark was Superman, she was a double danger to him. If they could get that information from her, they could kidnap the Kents. They could use Lois and the Kents as hostages. Instead of killing Superman, they might control him, use him to win the war. While Clark was not capable of stopping the war, he was certainly capable of seeing that one side won. He could disarm one side, allowing the other side to mow their unarmed opponents down with impunity. He could use his x-ray vision to ferret out cells of the opposition. With proper usage, Clark could be the most powerful weapon the world had ever known. He would rather die. This war was killing Clark. Lois had seen it with every news report that had come across the screen or across her desk. It was killing his soul, and her own had been dying inside just knowing what he was going through. She had to get out and warn him. He would refuse to be used that way even if it meant he had to die. But to save Lois and his parents...Lois didn't think he would kill under any circumstances, but she knew that if he did, it would shatter him almost beyond repair. She looked down at the canvas she was lying on and realized that it was a large canvas sack. She had been carried at least part of the way in a sack, and it was possible that the pin might have fallen out inside of it. She gathered the sack up as best she could and searched through it for several long, tense minutes. Finally she found what she was looking for. The pin had fallen out, but it had not been bent. She began the intricate work of picking the handcuff lock. It wasn't all that easy; only the fact that she had small wrists and long fingers made it possible at all. She had to force her wrists into such unnatural positions that they felt as though they would break. She worked at it for several minutes with little success. She hadn't been able to pick the handcuff locks even with Jack, but she had to keep trying. She wasn't even sure what good it would do her to escape her handcuffs. She was facing at least four armed men, and even if she somehow overcame them, she was trapped on an airplane that she did not know how to fly well. Friends of her father had taken her up in a plane or two when she was in her late teens. As an army brat she was at least familiar with some of the equipment. It had been more than ten years since she had even flown a plane, and she had never been much more than an observer in any case. She had logged maybe five hours in a simulator and never flown any sort of civilian craft. It was better than not having any experience at all, but not by much. She would worry about what she would do once she was free. She had begun to redouble her efforts when she heard someone coming. She grimaced; there wasn't time to get free before she was seen. She concealed the pin in her hand, kicked the sack back into an approximation of its original position, then lay down. She kept her eyes just barely slitted open, and could see booted feet come to stand nearby her. She almost tensed up when she felt the butt of a rifle prod her, but managed to stay relaxed. After a minute, the feet walked away. Lois continued to lie motionless for what seemed like an eternity. When she heard the laughter begin again, she opened her eyes and looked around. She began to work at the lock again. Her hands were becoming slippery with sweat, and somewhat shaky. At one point she dropped her pin and had to scrabble for it, cursing under her breath. She found it within reach with a sigh of relief. The click of the lock seemed to be thunderous. She spent a moment rubbing her wrists, which had been terribly scratched in her efforts to get the cuffs open. She then cautiously rose to her knees. The men were still where they had been. All kept their weapons holstered or within arms reach, but they didn't seem to be paying any special attention to anything but their own conversations. Lois turned and saw the door to the front compartment opening slowly. She cursed as she dropped down and kicked the canvas back into its original position. The men behind her apparently did not hear the door open as they kept up their conversation. She placed her hands back around the pole and partially back into the other cuff. She lay down and closed her eyes, ignoring the footsteps that were approaching. They stopped. She could almost feel the person standing not three feet away, and she knew that he was looking at her. The feet paused for several long moments before continuing onwards towards the back. She heard the men coming to attention, and the crack of a military voice. Though she did not know the language, there was no mistaking a military dressing down. The men should have been watching her more closely, she knew. It took a great deal of military discipline to maintain order, and as the daughter of an army doctor she had heard men being dressed down often enough to relax. It would probably last several minutes. If she had been surer of a plan, she would have taken the opportunity to escape. Since she wasn't, she relaxed and listened to the men being reprimanded for their laxness. She jerked when she heard the sounds of the gunshot. There was silence for several long minutes. She heard the sound of something being dragged down the center aisle, and she was careful to keep her eyes closed. She almost screamed when she felt the touch at the nape of her neck. "You might as well not pretend, Miss Lane. We both know you are awake. What is the use of pretense among friends?" The voice was deep and cultured, and it made her spine crawl. The hand fondled the nape of her neck, and Lois somehow managed to keep herself from shuddering. But when she felt hot breath against her skin, she could no longer stay still. She snapped her head back, feeling the back of it connect with the man's nose. She could hear him rise to his feet. "That wasn't very wise, Miss Lane." She lifted her head to look at her captor and froze in shock. She recognized him. Tall, swarthy skinned, with a thin scar running down the side of his jaw, his name was Malik, once one of Quazistan's most brutal generals. He had been demoted for slaughtering Kurds on the other side of the Armenian border. "I don't kiss on the first date." He smirked. "You'll do a lot more than that when we are through with you." "Why am I here?" "You've been asking too many questions. It won't matter in a few days, but it was best that you disappear for a while." "I'll be missed." "By the time any of them put the pieces together, it will be too late." Lois forced herself to look him in the eyes. The look he was giving her made her want to cringe, but she was afraid that if he looked anywhere but in her eyes for too long he would realize that one of her cuffs was not completely shut. "You won't get away with this." "Who's going to stop me, Miss Lane?" He smirked at her. "You seem to be a little tied up at the moment." She could feel his gaze slip lower and felt her skin crawl. "It wouldn't be a good idea for you to resist me for too long. I'd hate to see what could happen to that pretty white skin in the interim." His fingers fondled the hilt of his weapon. "You will help me, Miss Lane, whether you want to or not. Superman is as good as dead. The only question is whether you will survive and in what condition." She forced herself to look up at him ingenuously. "Could I at least visit the little girls' room?" He smirked. "So you can try to escape?" He stared at her for a moment, then grinned. "Sure, no problem. We're about to land to refuel, but once we're back in the air where will you go?" Lois was now aware of a change in the sounds of the engine. The plane was banking, as though it was circling a city in preparation for a landing. Her one real chance for escape would be once they touched the ground. She forced herself to sag against the pole, her right hand hidden by her body. She slipped her wrist through the loose cuff. He was here alone, and she would have the advantage of surprise. On the other hand, attacking from a kneeling position would be difficult, and keeping him from pulling his weapon would be almost impossible. There were shouts from the front cabin. Malik turned towards the front and shouted out a number of orders in Arabic. Lois lunged for his weapon. He was quick, hitting her in the side of the head with his fist, but not before she was able to wrench the gun out of its holster. She shoved the gun into his side. He froze. She could see that he had left the safety off. Idiot. "Get back!" she hissed. "Don't say or do anything. I know how to use this, and from this distance there isn't much chance that I will miss." "If you kill me, you'll be gunned down yourself, Miss Lane." Malik did not move. "We seem to be at an impasse." "Your men are up front dumping the body. You'll be dead before they ever get here." "You aren't a soldier, Miss Lane. You couldn't kill a man in cold blood." The smug self assurance in his voice grated on Lois. "Who said it would be in cold blood? You are planning on killing Superman. Most likely you will kill me once everything is over and done with. You'd be surprised what a soft little American woman would do to protect those she loves." He was stalling. The longer they talked, the more likely it was that one of the men would notice that something was wrong and come back to investigate. "Where do you keep the Kryptonite?" "It's not on this plane." The assurance in his voice could have been faked. Lois couldn't tell." Lois backed away from Malik. He lunged at her suddenly, grabbing for the gun. It went off with a flash, and the crack of the gun was like a thunderclap to Lois. Malik fell heavily on top of her. She could hear the shouts of the men in the forward compartment. She quickly rolled Malik off her body and rushed down the center aisle. She dodged to the side the moment she heard the men rushing towards her. She crouched in a small niche between crates as the men ran by. She could hear Malik shouting weakly in the back, and was briefly glad that she had not killed him. She rushed forward, and heard the ping of bullets as they passed by her head. She reached the door and slammed it shut behind her. She quickly pulled the latch closed and locked it. She was horrified when she felt a trail of fire along her arm. A bullet had passed through the door and grazed her. She lunged for the floor, and crawled as quickly as she could. The men had given up on firing their weapons, perhaps for fear of ricochets, and were now trying to open the door. The plane continued its descent. Lois knew that the pilots must have heard the gunfire from the compartments behind them. They were already on their pattern of descent, and any deviation would require an explanation to air traffic control. Doubtless they hoped the situation would be resolved before they landed. She had to make sure that didn't happen. It wouldn't take the men behind her long to get through the door. Having shot their commander, there wasn't much chance that they would go back to being nice captors either. In contrast to the utilitarian back half of the plane, the forward cabin was nicely furnished. The forward cabin reminded her of Lex Luthor's private plane, though not as opulent. There was a small trail of blood along the center aisle. Hearing the men behind her fumbling for the door, Lois came to her feet and dashed for the cockpit. She slammed the co-pilot in the jaw as he came around the corner, then flipped him over her shoulder. She took his handgun as he lay on the ground moaning, and shoved it into the waistband of her slacks. She heard the door behind her open, and she tried to lunge for the cockpit, but the man at her feet had wrapped his arms around her legs. She fell to the ground heavily. What came next was an explosion of pain. She gave an involuntary scream as she was kicked heavily in the side, then felt rifle butts strike her repeatedly in the ribs. A sharp barked command stopped the men before they could go any farther. Lois tried to catch her breath as she stared at the man leaning against the door. His normally swarthy complexion was pale. "You are a lucky woman, Miss Lane. A soldier knows better than to hold grudges when victory is in sight." He grinned. "We'll have to postpone our first date until I'm feeling a little better. We'll talk about payment for this then." In contrast to his grin, his eyes were as cold as a snake's. He grimaced suddenly in pain, then barked a command. Lois felt someone strike her, and everything faded to black. *************** She did not wake until she found herself being thrown to the ground inside a dark cell. The door was slammed shut behind her, and she was left in total darkness. She shivered in spite of the fact that the air was hot and arid. She slowly checked herself for any signs of injury. It didn't feel as though anything was broken; even the pain in her ribs had faded to a dull throbbing. She screamed when she felt something brush her hand. She had never liked rats, and being unable to see them coming at her made it far worse. "Lois!" She gaped, unable to believe that she was hearing Clark's voice. "Clark!" Lois whispered. "What are you doing here?" "I returned your call, and when I couldn't get hold of you, I called Perry. He told me about your kidnapping. When one of my sources warned me to get out of town, I figured that it might be the same people, out to get Superman. These guys grabbed me right out of my hotel room, and I didn't put up much of a fight." He pulled her into a hug, and she winced. "What have they done to you, Lois?" She allowed herself to melt into his embrace as well as she could, given her injuries. She leaned into him and whispered, "They have Kryptonite, and they may be listening in to us right now." "Don't worry Lois. I'm going to get us out of this." Clark spoke with such assurance. Lois knew, however, that Kryptonite bullets were probably being poured into molds as they were speaking. It would be tough to escape without revealing what Clark was and making him a target. She sighed, and allowed herself the luxury of melting into his warmth. Was there ever going to be a time when they could be together? Or would the world always be set against them? At least they were together. Lois laid her head on his chest and allowed herself to relax for the first time in days. The beat of his heart comforted her, and eventually she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. ***************************************************** Rage was Clark's constant companion. The first embers had sparked in his soul when he saw the first child die. The fire within him had only grown with each death, with each failure to preserve that which should never have been violated. He had known anger before, but never the sort of white hot, incoherent rage that makes a man clench his fists, grit his teeth and tremble in an attempt to control himself. Seeing Lois all battered and bruised, her beautiful face slightly swollen, was almost enough to take Clark over the edge. In the state he was in, it wouldn't take much more for him to seriously hurt someone. As though he didn't feel dirty enough. He had always thought that he was immune to hatred. The values his parents installed within him had seemed like an impenetrable shield. He had always stood alone and apart, especially in this. Nothing was simple anymore. Once he would have simply broken out of the room they were in, taken Lois to safety, and then returned to mop up the bad guys. He wouldn't be still sitting there, frozen, afraid to move for fear of what he might do to the men who had savagely beaten the love of his life. Human lives were so fragile; it would take him barely a thought to kill. So he lay still, holding Lois like the lifeline that she was. To kill was to deny everything Clark had represented. Lois had loved the ideals Clark stood for long before she had loved the man himself. He could not betray her trust. It was almost an hour before Clark could bring himself to finally relax. Anger would not get Lois to a place of safety, where she could heal in body and soul. He had been working on a plan for the past day and a half. Now he needed to implement it. The room was under surveillance; he could see the equipment with his x-ray vision. There was enough ambient light coming from under the door for him to see normally, though he suspected that Lois would be all but blind. He had already examined Lois with his x-ray vision. Luckily, nothing was broken, though she had massive bruises over some parts of her body, and a long gouge along one arm. Her breathing was unsteady, and Clark's preternatural sense of smell could detect the scent of drugs on her breath. Their captors were very lucky. It was hard to see her battered and bruised, but if they had actually broken her bones, he didn't know what he would have done. He leaned against the wall, and listened. They had soundproofed the wall, but his hearing was still acute enough to hear what was going on within the complex. In the day and a half since he had been taken hostage he had already learned a great deal. While the royal family of Quazistan had supposedly been murdered to the last member, Clark had learned that it was not true. The only truly popular member of the family, Prince Fadi, had been kept and hidden by the royalists. What Clark had yet to figure out was why they had not broadcast his survival to the world. Half the support given to the rebels and to the military was because there was no longer any true claimants to the throne. The popular Prince Fadi should have been able to unite most of his people, making the war short and much less painful. Lois stirred, and Clark carefully schooled his face into an expression of gentle concern. He never wanted Lois to know about his shame and rage. He had already been tainted; there was no need to taint her as well. "Clark?" she asked quietly. He pulled her into a tight embrace and whispered into her ear. "They have this place bugged." For a moment Lois shrank into Clark's embrace, looking blindly around as if to see the armies of roaches and rats which were surely waiting in the darkness. Then she relaxed, finally getting his meaning. It was a sign of the pain she was in that she was so slow on the uptake. Usually she was a step or two ahead of everyone else, and it was all Clark could do to keep up with her. She whispered in his ear. "They have Kryptonite bullets. We have to get out of here... and warn Superman." Lois obviously wasn't sure about how sharp the microphones were, and was playing her bets safe. Clark frowned. There were large areas of the complex sheathed in lead, including most of the outer walls. He couldn't be sure that Prince Fadi was not being held captive here- or even that he might not be the mastermind behind the whole thing. Still, the context of the conversation he had overheard led him to believe that the prince was being held elsewhere. "Don't worry," he said. He scanned the hallway outside and through the building as far as he was able. The lead-lined areas would be the most dangerous. They probably had traps for Superman there, traps that would be deadly for Clark if they were to learn of his nature. They were getting smart about the limitations of his powers too. Early in the war they had discovered that weapons with muzzle velocities in the supersonic range were difficult for him to deal with. By the time he heard the shot, the target had already been hit. It had made him sick, knowing that his choosing to stand in one direction instead of another caused someone to die. When he was facing in the direction of the shooter, he could see and react to the bullet easily. But when his back was turned he was dependent on his sense of hearing. Too many people had been shot when they were only three steps from him. In Metropolis, he could take the victim to the hospital, and leave the assassin to the authorities. In Quazistan there was no central authority. Leaving the killer with members of the other factions was an instant death sentence. Leaving them with their own side was tantamount to letting them go. And neither Interpol nor the United Nations was willing to do anything. If Turkey had not been accepting refugees with open arms, Clark would have lost all hope. The thread of hope that remained with him was getting thinner all the time. His frustration had grown to dangerous levels. Before he had discovered that Lois loved him, he had not even had the energy to grow angry. Now that she had breathed new life into him, his fury knew no bounds. Now that they had been reunited and night had fallen, there was no more reason to wait. It was time to implement his plan. He leaned over and whispered, "Hold on." He stared at an angle at the ceiling. Slowly, unnoticeably, it began to smoke, and a small hole pierced through. The same happened to the roof, and began to fray the main power line leading to the complex. Clark turned his head and began doing the same to the wall beside him. He quietly spent ten minutes burning a large hole in the backup generator, working slowly, hoping to avoid detection. He suspected that they had a secondary generator somewhere, but could only hope that it would take them at least a little time to use it. He heard the sounds of an explosion. There must have been gas fumes remaining in the generator. Quickly he turned and burned through the main power line to the outside. At super speed, he burst through the roof across from Lois, destroying the hole he had made. He flew back through the roof, picked up Lois, and flew away with her as quickly as he was able. It had taken him almost twenty-four hours to figure out the location of the main power line by the humming sound generated from the transformers. The lead in the roof had been enough to foil most of his attempts to see through it. They silently flew over the city, and Clark wished Lois could have seen it before it had been stricken by war. He had visited once during his world travels, and had been delighted by the people and the culture. Most of that had been destroyed, never to return. Some changes were forever. He looked at Lois, and hugged her tightly as they flew. He would make sure that she never changed, that the sights that haunted his dreams never corrupted her. He would take her home, then he would return and deal with Malik and the other people in power. He did not know why the royalists had wanted to prolong the war, but he intended to find out. Once he did, he intended to see that they pay. They were leaving the lights of the city rapidly behind, flying out over the silence of the desert. "Where are you taking me, Clark?" "I'm taking you home." Clark's voice warned Lois not to push it, but she did anyway. He had known she would. "Superman rescues the partnership of Lane and Kent. He's going to drop Kent back into the thick of danger, and return Lane back to the not-so-safe comforts of home?" Lois stared at him. "What's wrong with this picture?" Lois had a point. Metropolis was not the safest place for her. She would hardly sit still at the Kent farm either, and the minute she faxed a story in, his parents would be in danger. He landed near an oasis. He had used it before. It was away from the major routes used by the nomads, and it was currently uninhabited. He sighed. "I guess we need to talk." Over the past two years, Clark had come to know Lois like she was a part of him. She was independent, and fiercely protective of her own territory. Her bullish determination to succeed had caused others in the newspaper industry to call her "Mad Dog Lane". Lois had never been a victim, and would never allow herself to be second best. She would demand to see justice done, and wouldn't be able to do it sitting at home in Metropolis. She was going to ask to stay. Clark couldn't allow it. The war was dangerous for her body. It would be far more dangerous to her mind and spirit. Clark felt tainted already by all the things he had seen, by all the things he had failed to accomplish. He would die inside if he saw the light in Lois's eyes dim even by just a little. Clark landed by the pool at the base of the cliff, gently setting Lois down. The surrounding countryside did not resemble the stereotypical sand desert. Instead, it was barren and rocky, looking almost like the pictures of Mars that Clark had once seen. It was the perfect representation of the state of Quazistan, and of the growing coldness in Clark's heart. Clark knew Lois well enough to almost list the arguments she was going to use. He had spent a great deal of time while he was captured thinking about what his responses were going to be. As always, Lois Lane surprised him. "You can't go back." Clark stared at her for a moment, stunned. "I don't have any choice." "You always have a choice, Clark." Lois stepped away from him towards the pool. "This isn't your war; it never was." "This isn't anybody's war, Lois." "What good do you really expect to do here?" He could see her shoulders tense. "You save these people today, sure, but what about tomorrow? There are people across the world that could use your help. Every day you stay here is a day that could be used to save people who have a future." "These people have a future, Lois. I'm trying to make sure of it." "What about everyone else? The world needs Superman. You've always known you couldn't save everyone." Lois turned to face him. "Why can't you pick the world, instead of getting involved in a war that has no heroes?" "There are heroes in this war, Lois." Clark sighed. "People just don't see it. There are people who hide refugees, who help ferry them across the border." He hesitated. "I haven't written about them because that would put them in danger. The work they do is too important to stop." "Damn you, Clark." Clark could see that Lois's eyes were bright with unshed tears. He moved to embrace her, but she stepped back from him. "You always leave me." She stared at the ground. "When I thought you were dead, I wanted to die. Now you're going back. You're going to make yourself a big fat target fighting in a war you cannot win. How long will it take them to get you? A day? A week maybe?" Lois was crying silently. Clark stared at her, his limbs numb, unable to swallow. "Lois, I..." "What about me?" Lois almost screamed the words. "I've spent my whole life alone, waiting for that one, perfect person. Now that I find him, I realize that he's never going to be mine?" "Lois..." "It's going to haunt me. You were there under my nose for two years. I'm going to regret every single second that I wasted, every second that we could have had together." "Every single second we had together was precious." Clark was as certain about that as he was about anything. "What about all the seconds from now on, Clark? Are they any less precious? Are you willing to throw it all away? The chance of a life together, marriage, children? We could be good together." "We are good together, Lois." Clark looked away, unable to meet her eyes. "I can protect myself." Lois turned away from him. She looked down for a moment, and kicked a stray stone into the pool. "If you really believe that, then you are lying to yourself. Doctor Klein says that there was enough Kryptonite to make a hundred rounds of ammunition." "I'll be careful. I'll scan for gunmen before I land anywhere. I'm too fast to hit, anyway." "Not if you don't hear it coming." Clark stared at her, shocked. He hadn't realized that anyone knew about the danger that high velocity weapons posed. Supersonic ammunition hit the target before the sound of the shot did. "One of the LNN reporters made the connection the day I was kidnapped." That would make his task harder all around the world. Why couldn't people think before they reported the news? Lois continued. "They could shoot you in the back, and you would never even hear it coming! And that's not the worst. These people are experts in using chemical weapons. Doctor Klein says that they could use three quarters of the Kryptonite to create a gas that would be almost instantly fatal to you, and still have enough bullets left to finish you off." "Lois, I can't back down from this." Clark shook his head. "There are people depending on me, and for the first time, I'm seeing a chance at stopping this war." Lois was silent, staring at him. He tried to ignore the tear tracks on her face. "Prince Fadi is alive." Lois gaped at him. "I thought the rebels killed the whole royal family?" "Everybody thinks that. I had a lot of time to listen in while I was waiting for you. The royalists have him." "But the whole reason for the war was that there was no remaining members of the royal family! Why would the royalists provoke a war they could not win?" They both knew that it was more complicated than that, but the essence of it was true. Clark shook his head. "I'm not sure. I've been trying to think of a reason, and haven't come up with anything." "So all we have to do is find the young prince, set him up in power and the war is over?" Lois shook her head, the momentary gleam of journalistic zeal fading from her eyes. "That's simplistic and you know it, Clark." "We don't even know that the prince isn't orchestrating the whole thing from a bunker out in the desert." Clark spoke slowly. "But if he's being held prisoner, it could make all the difference for the course of the war." "Even if we managed to somehow find him and get him out...who could we trust to support him?" "I've made contacts in all three factions. I have a good idea of who would be willing to support Prince Fadi, and who wouldn't. There wouldn't be that many problems. Once the Prince reappears, all three factions will find members deserting. The Quazistanis are remarkably loyal to their royal family." Lois's face showed animation for the first time. "So all we have to do is find the prince, rescue him, and bring him to the people you know. Then get the news out to the media in both Quazistan and the world." "That's what I have to do, yes," Clark said softly. "You can't go back as Superman. It would be a death sentence for you. Even being Clark Kent wouldn't be all that safe." "I'll wear a disguise." Clark refused to look at her. "We'll wear disguises." Lois voice was firm, but Clark was not going to allow her to return with him under any circumstances. He couldn't. "You aren't going with me." "You've made a career out of leaving me behind, Clark." Clark could not bear to look at her, to see the pain in her eyes. "And for most of our relationship I didn't know why." She stepped close to him and put her hand on his arm. "I know why, now, and I know that there will always be times that you have to leave me behind. I have to accept that. But this isn't one of those times." "Lois..." "You are in danger. If our roles were reversed, would you stay behind?" "If I thought you would be safer without me..." Lois gasped, and Clark looked at her shocked face for the first time. He rushed to explain. "Lois, I love you. When you enter the room, the world seems brighter to me somehow. You make me strong in ways I never even realized that I needed before." "But...?" "But I can't do what I am going to have to do if I am worried about what is going to happen to you. I'm going to have to move very fast to do some of the things that have to be done... too fast to carry passengers." "You need someone to watch your back, Clark." He cupped her cheek. "I don't have a death wish, Lois. I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that I come back alive." She sighed and leaned into his hand. "Clark..." "I need you to do something for me in any case." Lois looked up at him questioningly. "I overheard one of the leaders... it wasn't Malik... he said that the rebels were being funded by the CIA. Of all the groups, the rebels are the one group least likely to be impressed by the return of the prince. If you were able to prove the involvement of the CIA..." "Then they would be forced to withdraw their support to the rebels, and with at least some of their members deserting..." Clark smiled. "The sooner the war winds down the sooner I can come home." "I'd really like to know why the royalists are keeping the prince a secret." Lois bit her lip. "Until we know that, we are just working in the dark." Clark frowned. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this if I have to listen in on every person in the city." "Are you sure that you can stop being Superman? You are going to be in disguise," Lois asked. "Are you really going to be able to ignore people's cries for help?" Clark gritted his teeth. "I'll do what I have to do to stop this war." Each death would soil him even further, tearing at the tattered remains of his soul. He would do all he could to help without being caught, but... Lois stared into his face for a long time before nodding. "Take me home, Clark." "You'll work on this with me?" Clark asked. "It's a great story. Perry would take my press pass if I were to walk away from something this big." Lois wouldn't look at him. "This is more than just a story." Lois sighed. "I know it is." She spent several moments looking at him. It was almost as though she was trying to memorize the planes of his face. Her face softened, and she reached up to cup his cheek. "I love you, Clark. I'll do whatever I have to do so that you can come home safe and alive." She leaned into his chest. "You aren't the only one who is going to have to be in disguise. We can trust Perry, but I'm going to have to be very careful." Clark wrapped his arms around her and sighed. The next few days were going to be the longest of their lives. They both knew it, just as they knew that any furtive kiss they shared might be their last. Without speaking, they each decided not to speak about the future, but to only enjoy the night. ************************************************ Regret was not a foreign emotion to Lois Lane. It was true that in her professional life she did very few things that she truly regretted. Breaking and entering, lying to get a story, it was all part of the game. The things she truly felt were wrong she simply did not do. She had her own code of honor, and generally, she followed it. Stealing a story from Clark early in their relationship was one of her few professional regrets. In her personal life she had done many things that she would later come to regret. She had foolishly trusted men who had betrayed her. She had allowed friendships to fade away in her pursuit of her career. She had been insensitive at times to the feelings of those closest to her. These regrets were among the things that Lois chose to think about as little as possible. As long as she could keep her focus on the next big story, on the next place to advance her career, she could ignore the niggling seeds of doubt and pain in the back of her mind. She had made a vow to remain celibate until marriage after her disastrous affair with Claude, and had held firm. She had never regretted that vow; she was very glad that she had never allowed herself to become intimate with Lex. She regretted that vow now. Clark lay sleeping beside her. She looked at him, trying to fix his features in her mind. She had seen him every day for two years, and yet she had never really seen him. Even once they started dating, she still hadn't really known everything about who he was. It was only now as he lay beside her, with his glasses set to the side and his face composed, that she was seeing the real man. Lois had always been drawn to liars. Her father's many affairs had torn Lois's family apart, and she had sworn at an early age that she would never be with a man that she could not trust. It was a promise that she had broken repeatedly. Every man she had ever had a romantic interest in had been a liar. Claude, Lex, Dan, each had been consummate liars in their own ways, almost professionals. It was ironic that the love of her life had more to hide than anyone, yet was the most honest man she had ever met. After Claude, Lois had known that she could not trust her own judgment. She had made a promise to herself never to give herself to another man until she was absolutely sure of him. It was a promise that hadn't been very hard to keep. Her work was fulfilling, taking up the vast majority of her time. After Claude she had made sure that the men she dated were weak men, men who were in no danger of gaining her heart. When Clark had entered her life she had had no intention of getting involved with him. She had known instinctively that he was dangerous; handsome and strong and thus inherently untrustworthy. The arrival of Superman had changed everything. He had reawakened feelings she thought lost forever. Not only was he the strongest man she had ever known, but he represented the ideals that she had always believed in. He was the direct symbol of truth and justice, honesty and trustworthiness. He was the perfect man. Clark, in contrast, had never been perfect. It had taken Lois much longer to realize that all the traits she loved about Superman existed in Clark as well. Clark had allowed himself to be her friend in ways that Superman never could. Clark was loyal and funny and always had time to spare. Clark never allowed her to run over him in the way everyone else did. He was strong, handsome, and unfailingly honest. He was a poor liar, and his many lame excuses should have clued Lois in. Her belief in his honesty had been so strong that she had never questioned the explanations; at worst, she had thought he was making excuses to run from her. She had never seen the truth. It still hurt, knowing that he lied to her, but she certainly wasn't going to take Clark to task over it. He had more than enough worries; he thought he was hiding his pain from her, but Lois could see that he was tearing himself apart. After the war was over, they would have time to talk. Still, the whole situation kept running through her mind. She had spent hours staring at the ceiling, thinking about the days to come. Sleep had been elusive. She sighed, then glanced around the room. For a bed and breakfast, it was nice. It had a king-sized bed and a balcony with a lovely view of the countryside of northern Virginia. It was within easy driving distance of Washington DC. It had a modem jack. It had everything Lois would need to do her work. It had everything except Clark; he would be leaving in the morning. She had long ago admitted that her work was always better when she worked with him. Their styles complimented each other perfectly. Clark gave the stories a human component, and Lois gave them a hard edge. When she had first seen the room, she had been optimistic. She had still been upset after seeing the condition the police had left her apartment in, but the bed and breakfast Clark had found had quickly changed her mood. The place reminded her in many ways of the honeymoon suite in which they had stayed. Those memories had made her blush. This might be their last night to see each other alive. Lois had subconsciously come to expect that they would spend it together. Clark had been solicitous, refusing to allow her to carry any of her own luggage. He had even brought Chinese food. She had pressed him, and he admitted that the food was from Shanghai. Another lie, and another mystery solved. Lois had spent several fruitless afternoons trying to find the Chinese place Clark patronized. He was always bringing food that was better than anything she could ever find; croissants, Chinese food, Italian food... the list was unending. The meal had been quiet. Neither of them was satisfied with the solution they had agreed to, and Lois had to stop herself several times from begging him to reconsider. Clark had tried to break the ice, but struggled for something to say. Lois knew that his whole existence for the past few weeks had revolved around subjects neither of them wanted to talk about. In time, they managed to relax. After the meal, they had stepped out onto the balcony to look at the moon. The warm summer air and the sweet scent of jasmine had seemed the perfect backdrop. Clark had put his arms around her and kissed her. The force of her feelings for him had stunned Lois. His kiss had caused the whole world to fade away. It seemed to last forever, and when they finally came up for air they had somehow found themselves on the bed. Lois loved Clark with all her heart and soul. She had been lost in her passion for him. Yet when his hand had slipped under her shirt to touch the smooth skin of her stomach, she'd flinched. He had pulled away from her instantly, and the evening had not been the same afterward. They had continued to kiss, but much of the heat had gone. In time, Clark had begun to doze. Lois lay with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. It had taken her almost an hour for her to remember the bruises on her stomach and ribs. It hadn't occurred to her at the time, but Clark had been very careful around her for the whole evening. When she flinched, Clark thought he was hurting her. It was for the best. She would prefer not admit the truth to him. The hurt she feared was not to her ribs or her body, but to her heart. Every moment passed with an ache caused by the thought that she might never see him again. How much worse would it be once she shared herself with him? It had been years since she had been intimate with a man, and in that time, her vow had become second nature. She had been hurt too many times not to make absolutely certain of the person she was with. Deep down, she knew that Clark was the person she had been born to find. She knew it with a certainty that frightened her. Yet he had lied to her. She had opened her heart to him, and he had hurt her in ways no one ever had before. He had allowed her to think he was dead not once, but twice. To go through that pain a third time, for the final time, would destroy her. Lois slowly pulled herself out of Clark's arms, slipped over to the table and booted up the computer. The best way she knew to deal with her fears was to ignore them in favor of work. In this case, work might be what saved them. She reviewed what she already knew about the war. A rebel faction lead by Kurdish separatists had existed for years in the southern part of Quazistan. They had lacked the funding, training, and weaponry to be dangerous to the royal family. Eighteen months earlier they had begun a series of terrorist attacks that had divided the nation. They had only limited success, but the efforts of the royal family to crack down on them had made life much harder for the average Quazistani. They had gained a small following in the north. Three days after Lex Luthor's death, King Fasil had nationalized all assets of Luthor's three oil companies working in Quazistan. Lexxon, Lexaco, and Luthor Oil had lobbied heavily in Congress. Within two months the US had withdrawn from diplomatic relations. Six months later the rebels had murdered every member of the royal family. The government took immediate, brutal action to root out the rebels. It had also attempted to purge the military, which had been traditionally loyal to the royal family, only to find that over half of the generals had banded together at the first signs of trouble. The generals who had been branded as traitors and a few others joined together into a committee and refused to surrender. The war began shortly afterwards as each group blamed the others for the murders. The rebels had continued to attack both of the other factions, and they had been growing increasingly well armed. Though they were not supported by much of the northern population, they held entire towns and factories in the south. The Luthor holdings went up in flames within a week. The media had yet to ask the question about how a mediocre separatist group managed to become so professionally trained and equipped in the course of six months. Lois's normal contacts in the military wouldn't be of much help. The best people to contact might be in Quazistan; the members of the other factions would have every reason to want to expose the CIA support for the rebels. However, the fact that they had not already exposed the CIA involvement probably meant they had no proof. Other possibilities were to look at the money trails and to track the path the weapons took in moving from the US to Quazistan. She would find out what types of weapons the rebels used, who manufactured them, and then she would have a talk with the manufacturers. She looked over at Clark and sighed. There were too many things between them to simply jump into bed together. No matter how much she loved him, she had to remain true to herself. She could only do her best to make sure that he came home safely. Then they would have the time they needed to allow their relationship to blossom. She wanted a lifetime with Clark Kent, and she was going to make sure that she had it. Whatever she had to do, she would have no regrets. *************** Lois woke slowly. The injuries she had managed to ignore the night before were throbbing, and she was stiff and sore as well. She glanced at the bed beside her; it was empty except for a single rose. Clark had left without waking her. It would have been good to see him once more before he left, but she could understand his reluctance. She hadn't slept for half the night, and had needed the rest. Lois glanced at herself in the mirror. She had a large bruise on her left cheekbone. Her ribs hurt, and so did her arm. Her captors had bandaged her arm. They had managed to cause her a great deal of pain without making her less mobile. They had been experts; breaking a bone might have made her more difficult to move. It was amazing, really. She had been kidnapped more than anyone, and she had always managed to avoid any serious injuries. Oh, she'd had a few rope burns around her wrists, but she had always escaped remarkably unscathed. Even this time she was lucky to escape with nothing more than a few bruises. Lois phoned the front desk to ask for another bag of ice. Clark had told the owner that Lois was hiding from an abusive husband. The woman had been sympathetic, and had sworn not to reveal Lois's presence. Lois had wanted to protest. She had never been a victim, and it bothered her to be seen as one. She didn't have any other story to offer, however, and had kept her own counsel. As she opened the door, she had to admit that the ruse was useful. The owner had prepared a breakfast tray, including a handy selection of over the counter painkillers along with an ice pack, and a copy of the Washington Post. The woman's eyes remained fixated on Lois's cheek. Lois quickly ducked her head and took the tray, turning to set it down by the table. Lois turned back to the woman, who was craning her head to see into the room. She was probably looking for signs of Clark. Lois grimaced and said, "Thank You." She closed the door as quickly as she was able. It would be days before the bruises healed completely, and she had never been one to wear heavy makeup. She was going to have to get used to odd looks. She glanced back at the door. Big city dwellers respected each other's privacy. They had sense enough to leave people alone. Small town people felt they had the right to invade everyone's personal space. Clark had been a quick learner, but he still slipped sometimes. Of course, she didn't mind so much nowadays. She read the Post as she ate, holding the ice pack to her eye. She was tempted to go back to bed. It would take time for the pain medication to kick in, and Lois really hadn't managed much sleep the night before. She was forced to remind herself that the sooner she finished, the sooner Clark could come home. Lois began making calls to the bases on the Quazistani border that Superman had been using as weapons drops. She quickly discovered that most of the newer weapons recovered were American-made M-16's. Turkish sniper rifles were a close second in popularity. Lois actually managed to talk someone into reading off four serial numbers from the sides of various weapons, though it took almost half an hour of cajoling. The M-16 was produced by the Colt Firearms company, with plants in Hartford, Connecticut, and also Singapore, South Korea and the Philippines. It was a popular weapon used around the world, and no one had thought to comment about its usage in Quazistan. Lois, however, had a suspicion that the sales record of the company would show something odd. Jimmy was happy to see what he could do to crack the company files, but warned that the company might not keep either financial records or serial number information online. He promised to call her cell phone the moment he found anything. Lois made a lunch date with Sawyer Roberts, an NSA agent who was related to her mother. He had given her a break on her second big story, and she was hoping he would do so again. Noting that she had several hours before meeting with Sawyer for a late lunch, Lois began searching the internet for anything she could find on the war. It still bothered her that the royalists were keeping the existence of Prince Fadi a secret. It didn't make sense. Three hours later it made even less sense to Lois. The Turkish government was being magnanimous in accepting refugees; the official position of the Turkish government had always been that the people of Quazistan were Turks. Turkey had always resented the fact that the English had split Quazistan away from Turkey even as Turkey was given its independence. They had unsuccessfully invaded Quazistan three times over the past seventy years, only to be forced to back down by the weight of world opinion. Quazistan had never accepted the idea of terrorism against civilians, which was one reason that the US had formerly had cordial relations with it Against invading enemy soldiers, it had been a different story. The continuing threat from its neighbor to the west caused Quazistan to institute universal military service for everyone except religious leaders and Kurds. Almost everyone had access to small arms, though assault rifles and larger weapons were confined to military armories. Some Kurds had overcome prejudice and joined the army, but most were forced into ghettos in the southern part of the country. Their early hopes of making Quazistan their new homeland were crushed. Quazistan made it illegal to sell private weapons to the Kurdish minority, and without the military training given to their countrymen, they were at a severe disadvantage. When the Kurdish separatists began making guerilla attacks on both military and civilian targets, the people had been outraged. The government had instituted harsh and restrictive measures on the Kurds, forcing many from their homes. The separatist movement had gained strength as many Kurds suffered unjustly. The one factor that had held the people together was respect for the royal family. Unfortunately, King Fasil had only taken power three years before and had done a great deal to erode that respect. When he nationalized the Luthor Oil holdings, it was merely the last in a string of totalitarian actions. After the Kurds began their campaign, he'd turned truly brutal. His son, Prince Fadi, protested and was exiled to a school in Saudi Arabia. His older sons took their places in the administration beside their father, becoming stained with the increasing brutality of the regime. Even so, the people remained loyal to their rulers, though that loyalty was becoming strained. The murders of the royal family members enraged the nation and plunged it into war. The original government had to know that Prince Fadi was alive. Most of the military that seceded from the government was loyal to the royal family, and would have remained loyal to Fadi. By keeping Fadi's survival a secret, they had guaranteed that there would be civil war. Once the war had begun, they could have produced the Prince at any time and cut much of the support for the other factions. His popularity could have easily swayed men to his cause. The royalists were playing with people's lives, and Lois was determined to find out why. She had lost too much time with Clark already to give up any more without a fight. Lois dressed and applied her makeup as best she could. It didn't really hide the bruises, but it was the best she could manage under the circumstances. She donned a large set of sunshades. She slipped down the stairs, and waved to the owner. Lois unlocked the gray rental car and slipped inside. It was rented under an assumed name. Clark had been dismayed when Lois had produced false identification papers. It was illegal, of course, but Lois had been taking no chances on the Congo story she had been working on before she met Clark. Clark was still such a boy scout, even after everything he had been through. It worried her, seeing the pain in his eyes. As Superman he saw things that would send an ordinary man into counseling. With the coming of the war, the sights he had seen were growing exponentially worse. Even what the LNN censors were willing to show was gut wrenching. Clark had never become hardened to pain and death. Each death affected him deeply. He had never developed the protective detachment that helped many rescue workers get through each day. Clark had no one to turn to other than Lois and his parents. He couldn't seek counseling. As Clark, he'd be risking his secret. As Superman, he would start a media frenzy. Dr. Friskin might be trustworthy enough to keep Superman's presence a secret, but would her secretary? Would the doorman to the building? It might be possible to sneak Clark into the building and have Dr. Friskin see him after hours. The real problem would be Clark's reluctance to see a counselor. Martha had made it clear that secrecy had been drummed into Clark from the time he was a child. He had always had superficial friendships with everyone, but there was always a part of himself he had to hold back. The habits of a lifetime were hard to break. It had only been recently in her sessions with Dr. Friskin that Lois had come to see the truth. Until Lois had been willing to face her own pain, she had been unable to reach out to Clark in the way that he needed. Clark couldn't hold his pain inside forever. Lois could only hope that he would let her be there for him. It took Lois a moment to realize that she had reached the restaurant where she was to meet with Sawyer. Her cell phone rang. "Jimmy... hold up... what?" Lois pulled into the parking lot, found a space and turned off the ignition. It seemed that the Colt M-16 sales to Turkey had doubled within two weeks of Quazistan's nationalization of the Luthor holdings. The sales had been expedited unusually quickly, and orders had continued at the same high level since the beginnings of the Quazistani war. Perry had been impressed with the findings and was sending Peterson to the plant in Connecticut to see if he could match the serial numbers with the records they had there. Lois closed the cell phone and dropped it into her purse. The weapons were American made, but they didn't yet have anything solid linking the CIA to the rebels. She entered the restaurant moments later, after checking to see that her bruises were not too much in evidence. They were, but there wasn't much she could do about it. It was a nice little restaurant, an Italian eatery that Sawyer had brought her to the last time they had met. She scanned the room until she saw him. Sawyer didn't look like anyone's idea of a secret agent. He didn't even look like a member of Lois Lane's family. He was short, stout and balding. His eyes, though, almost gleamed with intelligence and good humor. That good humor was gone from his expression as he stood up when Lois approached. "Lois. You look like hell." He pulled her chair out, and Lois gratefully sank into it. He waved for the waiter. "You always did know how to make a girl feel special." "You need to be more careful. I'd hate to have to listen to your mother if you were to get hurt." "You hate to listen to my mother now, so what's the difference?" "How did you get that shiner?" Sawyer's voice was serious now. "People don't always appreciate my reporting style." Lois gratefully accepted the iced tea brought by the waiter. "You need to stay out of Quazistan." Lois pretended to study her menu. "Who said I got this in Quazistan?" "I'm serious. That whole mess has gotten people jumpy." The waiter returned, and Lois murmured her order. He left, and Lois sipped her tea. They were both silent for several moments. "A lot of people are being killed right now. I have a friend...no, two friends over there risking their lives in the hope of stopping a war. This isn't just a story for me." "What do you want me to say, Lois?" "Help me prove that the CIA is aiding the rebels." "It would be a major embarrassment to the US government for something like that to get out, even if it were true. People lose their jobs over accusations like that." "People are losing their lives right now. You've seen the LNN coverage, and you know that things are worse over there than anybody is letting on." "I can't help you on this one, Lois," Sawyer hesitated. "I have a family to think about." "What are you saying?" "My family means the world to me. If something was to leak, the person responsible could be charged with espionage, treason, or even worse. That's if they ever managed to reach trial." "Are you saying that our own government would..." "I don't know anything directly," Sawyer said, avoiding her eyes. "But rumor has it that it wouldn't be prudent to make too many inquiries about Quazistan." Lois was shocked. "That's not how things are supposed to..." "America has always been a land of high ideals, Lois." Sawyer noted the waiter arriving with the food and sat back. After the food was served he continued. "We've never lived up to those ideals." They ate in silence for several minutes. "Is there anything you can give me?" Lois finally asked. Sawyer was silent for several moments before speaking. "Bureau 39 sold a special weapon to the Quazistani government. It's a prototype rocket launcher, designed to deliver a gas payload." "I thought that the government had given up research on chemical warfare?" "Don't believe it. In any case, Bureau 39 decided a long time ago that the Geneva Conventions did not apply to those who are not human." Lois gaped. "So the government sold Quazistan the equipment it would need..." "To kill Superman," Sawyer nodded. "I wouldn't be telling you this at all, but Superman has done more for this country than just about anyone," He sighed. He stared at his plate and sighed. "My family was on the DC-10 Superman saved last year. I owe him everything. If it wasn't for that, I wouldn't even be here." He dropped several bills on the table. "Don't call me again. It wouldn't be safe for either of us." Lois' mind spun. Clark would be expecting a stationary bomb, not a missile. He would be a sitting duck if they caught him in the air. She had to contact him before it was too late. ******************************************* Sometimes having superhuman senses was more of a curse than a blessing. Clark's senses were the first of his abilities to develop, and even as a child they had been something of a burden. The first time he had overheard his parents in their bedroom, he had been confused. The second time, he had been mortified. It had taken time to learn to shut down his senses; until he managed to do so, his life had been a hellish mix of confusion and embarrassment. He never could have lived in a city like Metropolis without learning to regulate his senses. The sounds of sixteen million people going through the daily motions of life would have driven him insane. Add in the constant sounds of traffic, jackhammers, construction crews and rock bands, and the resulting cacophony would have been enough to drive him to become a hermit. It was not that his mind could not take everything in. It was simply that Clark had never been able to hear another being in pain without wanting to help. Hearing every incident of domestic abuse, every child being taunted, every domestic squabble would have been pure torture to him. Clark had learned to dull his senses to something approximating the human norm. He went through his day to day life dead to the world around him. He had worn the blinders for so long that he didn't really remember what it had been like to use them to their full capacity. Some sounds he had never been able to ignore. The sounds of extreme panic, of pain, of police sirens and desperate people had always gotten through. Even though he chose only to hear the worst, he was often unable to rescue them all. It was something he had been forced to come to terms with at the very beginning. Quazistan tested Clark's resolve. Although the city of Rial only had a half million people, it still generated sounds of pain and panic that exceeded anything Clark had ever known. Even when he was able to help as Superman it was difficult for Clark to reconcile himself to the death and destruction around him. It was all Clark could do to ignore the sounds which were all around him. It went against everything that he believed to ignore people who needed him. The knowledge that he was doing what had to be done to stop the war, and the strength of Lois's love, were all that kept him going. At least Lois was safe at home. Sometimes he imagined that he could actually feel her worry for him. It comforted him, knowing that she was thinking about him. When he had thought her lost to him, his misery had been total and overwhelming. It would have mortified Lois to know how attuned his senses were to her. He would know her scent anywhere, not the aroma of the perfume she used, but the unique fragrance of her as a woman. It had intoxicated him when they first met. Now, her scent was permanently engraved in his mind. He could hear the distinctive rhythm of her heart and the pattern of her breathing across a crowded room, and it never failed to grab his attention. He had always been careful never to let Lois know just how much she was the focus of his world. Lois was the last thing he thought of before drifting to sleep, and the first thing he thought of when he woke. Or at least she had been. Recently his sleep had been troubled with nightmarish images of death and war. As long as the war continued, Lois would never be safe. War destroyed beauty. Quazistan had been one of the wealthiest Middle Eastern nations. With one-tenth the population of Turkey and with the oil resources that Turkey lacked, it had plenty of money to spend on art and architecture and weapons of war. Quazistan had never been the westernized nation that Turkey had become, but it had carried many of the same traditions as a secular nation. It had competed with Turkey for the title of the most liberal Middle Eastern country. Until the coronation of King Fasil, freedom of religion had been an integral right of the people. Freedom of speech was allowed as well, though not to the extent practiced by the western nations. The nation had been thriving due to the wealth of its oil fields. One reason Turkey had always been so resentful was that it was a much poorer nation for the lack of those fields. The United States had not turned against King Fasil until he nationalized the Luthor Oil holdings three days after Luthor's apparent suicide. Luthor had died, but the pieces of his corporate empire had continued onward without him. Clark sat on the edge of a fountain in a small cul-de-sac. The windows in the walls around him were all boarded up, and he had checked to see that the apartments beyond were uninhabited. The sole entrance was blocked with rubble that was over six foot high. It was open to the sky, and thus Clark was free to come and go as he pleased, too fast for the human eye. The rubble was partially the remains of a gutted building nearby; the factions took care to clear the rubble off the streets from time to time. A block away, the palace stood, grim and brooding, impregnable. It was the center of the royalists' power, the former home of the royal family. In spite of everything the other factions could manage, it had never been breached. The royal family had been lured away from its protection before being killed, so its record for impregnability was unbroken. Workers were sheathing large sections of the palace in lead, but Clark could still make out much of its layout. He had been tempted to slip into the palace; however, he had promised Lois to be careful. Until he knew that Prince Fadi was being held in the palace, he would not enter it. Clark closed his eyes and listened. In the distance he could hear the sounds of bombardment at the outer edges of the city. The royalists had managed to gain control over two thirds of the city, and the fighting had faded to sporadic raids. Clark was afraid that if the other two factions were driven completely out of the city that they would blockade the food and medical supplies that the city so desperately needed. That they had not already was a tribute to each group's hopes of winning the civilian populace to their side. He managed to ignore the sounds of bombing in the distance, though the screams of the dying made him twitch. It went against everything he believed not to interfere. On the good side, most of the non-combatants had fled that section of the city. It did not change the fact that men and women were in pain, and dying. Each combatant had a mother and father, perhaps sisters and brothers. Each had someone who would grieve for him, even if it was only his fellows. Every life was special. It took him a moment to focus in on the palace. Moving his attention from room to room, he listened as well as he could given all the background noise. It was difficult to pay attention to only one conversation in the middle of hundreds, but one caught his attention. "We have him here." "Why haven't you moved him? It would be the first place the alien looks." The voice that came over the telephone was familiar to Clark. He couldn't quite remember the person, but he was sure that eventually he would. "We've got him well concealed. Our men are armed with Kryptonite, and the weapon is ready. There is no place in this country that is more secure." "Mr. Malik, you would have done well to accept our offer. We would have smuggled him out of the country without anyone being the wiser." Malik laughed. "The young prince is our key to victory. The group who has him in its possession has Quazistan." "You should have used him already. Our analysts say that you are losing this war." "Your analysts know nothing." Malik's voice was irritated. "If it hadn't been for a leak in your department, we could have cleared the military of those loyal to the royal family." "That's never been proven." The other voice was smooth. "Are you sure you don't have traitors in your own ranks? The generals moved very quickly after the assassinations to consolidate their power. That took advance warning - more warning than you gave us." "You were the ones supplying weapons to the Kurds. You only gave us three days to shift our best men off guard duty; it was barely enough time to arrange for the family to be where we wanted them." "If your people had done their jobs, everything would be over now. You would be in control, and our partnership would be firm. Once you consolidated your power, we'd have given you the Kurds on a silver platter." Malik's voice grew even more irritated. "You have never explained why you continue to supply the rebels with weapons. They have become a real danger to all our plans." The other voice became sly. "Some of my superiors have had reason to doubt the effectiveness of your administration. Some have begun to wonder if the rebels might not work just as well for our plans as a group of incompetents." "The rebels do not have the support of the people. More importantly, they do not have the prince. We are the only legitimate government of Quazistan. The presence of the prince as a figurehead will consolidate our position in the court of world opinion." "Then bring him out into the open." "Those who follow the rebel generals are the most loyal to the royal family. It wouldn't do for the prince to get the idea that he is really in control. "I doubt he would allow family funds to be diverted to support Bureau 39 and CIA actions around the world." "You people will be getting a military base and the promise of military intervention the next time the Turks invade." "I have heard that the Kurds are attempting to ally themselves with the Turks, promising to give them the north if they will invade." "Eliminate the alien, and I'll send you documentation and tapes of three of those meetings. Leak them to your major newspapers, and some of your problems are over. It should cut the support base for the Kurds; your countrymen see themselves as being quite patriotic. Nothing would bring them together like the news of a Turkish invasion. Once you bring the prince out of hiding, you should have it in the bag." "The rebel generals will still be a thorn in our side. We have been trying to arrange accidents, but their men are almost fanatical in their devotion to their leaders' safety." "Don't worry about them. I have people who can do the job. What about the alien?" "He hasn't been seen in over 12 hours. We have men throughout the city searching for him and the reporter. The guards here in the palace are on full alert, and the weapon is armed and ready." Malik paused. "The sensor devices you sent us have been installed, and our men are trained in their use. Are you sure that the weapon will work?" "Our scientists have every piece of data that has ever been collected on the alien. They say that a full body exposure should be almost instantly fatal." "Then there will be no problem. The alien will be dead the minute he enters into the palace airspace." "Make sure that you keep that promise, and good things will happen for your administration." The other voice paused. "If you fail us, we may have to look into other options. As long as we are both clear, Mr. Malik, our partnership should be long and profitable." "Keep your promises, Agent Scardino, and we will keep ours." Clark could hear Malik hanging up the telephone, but he barely noticed. His mind was reeling. Lois's choice in men was running true to form. Dan Scardino had never worked for the DEA or the FDA. He worked for Bureau 39. *************** Guilt was a cancer eating at Lois's soul. Sawyer was dead, and it was all her fault. The sick and empty feeling filling Lois's stomach was unfamiliar, and left a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth. She had been too incautious in asking questions. She had pushed too hard, and it had gotten Sawyer killed. Someone knew she had met with him, and now he was dead. They were calling it a car accident, but it seemed suspicious to Lois. He had warned her to keep away from the story, and he was dead within twenty-four hours. Lois didn't believe in coincidence. She'd had a taste of what it was like to face the consequences of her actions several months before, when Stuart Hofferman had faked his own death. At the time, the belief that her story had killed a man she had not really known had been almost overwhelming. It was worse now. Sawyer had been family. The eldest child of her mother's cousin, he had been more like an uncle when Lois was a child. While her father's work as an army surgeon had kept them from staying at any one place, she had known him at the infrequent family gatherings. It would have hurt even if it hadn't been her fault. Sawyer wasn't coming back from this one. If she had been discreet with her questions at the Office of Public Affairs, no one would have known she was digging into sensitive areas. She had lost her head. It had been almost two days, and she had yet to contact Clark. She had left messages with Perry, Jimmy, and the Kents, and she had remotely changed the message on her answering machine at home. Perhaps her fear and anger had led her to be more forceful than she otherwise would have been. For whatever reason, because of her actions, a man was dead, and it wasn't just any man; it was family. Now she stood at the door to his home, her hand poised to knock. She dreaded seeing Sarah. Looking Sawyer's wife in the eyes without showing the guilt she felt was going to be difficult. Asking her to allow Lois to go through his personal effects was going to be even more so. People should be allowed time to grieve for their loved ones. What she had to ask was a terrible imposition, and it made her ashamed. If it weren't so important, she wouldn't even consider it. Sawyer had known more than he let on, and it was possible that he had left at least some of the evidence behind in his personal home office. The thought of taking advantage of his death made Lois feel physically ill, but she had no choice. All her other sources were drying up. The door opened