A Love Well Worth the Wait
By Tracey <supertlc19@aol.com>
Rated PG
Submitted December 2000
________________

This story came about after my mind wandered into that wonderful 
world of "what if?" one day after watching Lois & Clark: What if Lois 
and Clark had worked together for four or five years and never gotten 
romantically involved?  What would have happened to our favorite 
couple?  Mix in a bad guy or two, and all of the sudden I had on my 
hands the longest story I've ever written.  It was tough at times, 
and I wouldn't have made it through if not for the invaluable 
feedback of my beta-reader, Wendy Richards, the "gentle" 
encouragement of my good friend Emily, and the awesome feedback and 
encouragement of the readers on Zoom's Message Boards.  Thanks so 
much, everyone!

Usual copyrights apply: characters aren't mine; they belong to DC 
Comics, TNT, etc., but the story is.  Also, any reference to other 
stories is completely accidental on my part.  Oh, and to suit the 
purposes of this story, the Planet is celebrating its fiftieth 
anniversary, so pretend that the anniversary party in TOGoM didn't 
happen.:)  Comments welcome and appreciated at supertlc19@aol.com

==========

She had never been so frustrated.  Never.  In all her years as an 
investigative reporter, never had someone been so bold as to tell 
Lois Lane that she'd lost her edge.

Today it had happened.

This morning Ralph had walked casually past her desk, the day's 
edition of the Daily Planet in hand.  He paused long enough to make 
sure she noticed him, then proceeded to say with a smirk, "Hmm, once 
again, another day goes by and the famous Lane byline hasn't even 
graced the front page."  He saw her features flinch at his words, 
though she did her best to hide it, and it only served to encourage 
him.  "Whatever is the world coming to?" he asked, his voice filled 
with mock exaggeration.

Her initial urge had been to stand up and slap that haughty 
expression right off his pudgy little face, but thankfully, she'd 
found enough control not to respond.  Instead, she'd given him a 
searing glance and gone back to her phone conversation, pretending 
she hadn't been affected by his careless remark.

But inside, she had been hurt; the truth in the barb had wounded her 
more deeply than she cared to admit.  Other than the occasional slump 
that every professional went through from time to time, she had 
always been the Planet's star reporter.  Why had everything suddenly 
changed?

She hadn't written a decent story in a month and a half.  Longer, 
probably, if she actually sat down with a calendar and counted the 
days, but there was no need for that.  She was depressed enough 
already.

Her current investigation was a bust.  Earlier in the morning, Lois 
had found out that the tip she had been given by one of her sources 
had turned out to be nothing more than a misunderstanding; he had 
overheard the wrong parts of a conversation and, consequently, come 
to the wrong conclusions.  That particular situation, added to 
Ralph's comment, was responsible for her less-than-amiable demeanor 
and had, unfortunately, set the tone for the entire day.

The slump would bearable if Clark were here, she thought sullenly. 
Her partner always had the right words to reassure her and calm her 
down.

But Clark wasn't here anymore.  It was funny, the way things had 
worked out, she mused.  If Perry had told her five years ago that the 
day would come when she would loathe working alone, she would've told 
him he was crazy.

But then Clark had arrived on the scene and changed all that.  Their 
names had been intertwined ever since, on byline after byline, 
award-winning story after story.  After being his partner for four 
years, it was tough to acclimate herself to being "single" again. 
But that was the reality now; she was alone in her reporting.

And she just wasn't cutting it anymore.

"Lois!"  Perry's gruff southern accent boomed through the newsroom, 
interrupting her thoughts.  She sighed inwardly.  She really, really 
wasn't looking forward to telling him that her latest story attempt 
was another bomb.  Lois crossed her fingers, praying it wasn't dog 
show season.

She marched to his office, head held high.  Even if she didn't have a 
story, she still had her pride.  She stuck her head in the door, 
trying to act slightly annoyed, like she'd been incredibly busy when 
he'd yelled for her.  "Yeah, Chief?"

He was sitting behind that big oak desk of his, covered in copy and 
red ink.  He glanced up when he heard her voice.  "Come on in, honey. 
And shut the door."

Uh-oh.  It was never a good sign when those were the first words out 
of his mouth.  Silently, she stepped inside and closed the door 
behind her.  He motioned for her to sit, and she did, perching 
lightly on the edge of the couch.

He closed the cap on his pen.  "So how's that tip?  Anything pan out yet?"

Every part of her mind was screaming at her to tell him that she was 
on it; there just hadn't been any breaks yet.  But there was another 
part of her that wouldn't lie to him.  Well, most of the time, 
anyway, she qualified.  She took a deep breath.  "It's a dead end, 
Perry.  My source overheard the wrong info.  There's nothing going on 
with Congressman Huller."  She braced herself, preparing for the 
worst, and waited for the barrage that would accompany the 'get back 
out there and get me a story' speech.

"Oh, well, you know, sometimes there's just no story," was his only 
reply.  She glanced up, surprised.  Perry was studying her a bit too 
intently for her comfort.  She squirmed under his gaze, wondering 
what he was thinking.  It seemed Perry was the only one, other than 
Clark, who seemed able to see past her brave facades and tap into her 
real feelings.  She looked around nervously, eager to be dismissed.

"Yeah, well, you can't get them all," she answered.  There was a 
short silence before she spoke again.  "Was that it, Perry?  Just, 
'Lois, how's your story coming?' You could've asked me that at the 
staff meeting later on."

He stood, coming around to sit on the end of his desk.  "How are you 
feeling, honey?"

Confused, she shot him a look that clearly warned 'don't get too close.'

He chose to ignore it.  "Lois, I know this is a touchy subject, but 
I've noticed, as I'm sure you have, that stories... well, they've, 
uh... been a little hard to come by lately."  He put it as delicately 
as possible, but it still hurt.

She shrugged.  "Everybody has bad days, Chief; you know that."

"It's been a little longer than a day," he reminded her gently.  When 
all he received was a cool glance, he continued in the same careful 
tone of voice, "Think about it, honey -- when was the last good story 
you had?  The last one you were really proud of?"

She bit her lip.  She'd already thought about the last story she'd 
been satisfied with, and she didn't like the answer.  After a long 
pause, she grudgingly admitted, "The capture of Clause Mensa."

"Mm-hmm," Perry agreed.  "And that was the last story you and Clark 
worked on together, wasn't it?"

Lois wasn't fooled by his innocent tone.  She knew where this was 
headed and decided to cut him off at the pass.  "Look, Chief, if you 
think my work has suffered just because Clark's gone, you're wrong. 
I mean, it's been a year.  Sure, we made a good team, and we brought 
in some great stories, but I'm still the same reporter I was while 
Clark was here.  I'm still good," she insisted.

"I'm not saying you don't still have the potential to be good," Perry 
hurriedly acknowledged.  He sighed.  He'd been quietly sitting on the 
sideline for a while now, watching his star reporter fade into a 
mediocre one.  But the harder part had been to quietly sit by and 
watch the vibrant woman he loved like a daughter slip away into the 
spiritless shell that now sat before him.

He knew why, but she didn't.  Or maybe deep down she did, but didn't 
want to admit it.  He knew it was probably hard for her to accept the 
fact that Clark had become such an integral part of her life.  When 
he had first offered Clark the internship at the Planet's London 
office, he had known it would be hard on both his top reporters.

He had wanted desperately to keep them together; hands down, they 
were the best reporting team he'd ever seen, better even than 
Norcross and Judd.  But when the top gun at the London office, Harold 
Thorton, had made the call to Franklin Stern demanding the best 
Metropolis had to offer, Perry had felt obliged to give Thornton the 
best.

So he gave them Clark.  Lois had been a choice as well, of course, 
but he knew her patience with managerial positions.  He chuckled 
softly, remembering the time she had taken over as editor-in-chief 
when he had been promoted.  It had definitely caused some strain on 
her relationship with her co-workers, especially Clark.  She had 
informed him after the experience that she would stick to reporting.

But Clark, on the other hand, was a world traveler, worked well with 
people, and had the kind of demeanor that was personable, yet 
commanded respect.  He would do a good job in London, Perry was sure.

It had been a blow to the newsroom, but Perry knew they would 
recover.  People came and went all the time in the news business.  Of 
course, it was difficult at first; people weren't sure how to act 
around Lois, and there were the rumors about Clark's abrupt departure 
to contend with.

Perry had watched Lois intently during the period immediately 
following Clark's egression; at first glance, she had seemed to 
handle it well.  Her stories weren't that great, but he assumed the 
touch would return with time.  Her writing lacked that certain spark 
that usually accompanied the stories written with Clark, and it was a 
bit cold; it reminded him of the type of articles he had seen from 
her in her early years with the Planet, before Clark.  It was an 
awful experience to see her take two or three steps back, but what 
could he do?  He felt like his hands were tied on this one.

When she thought no one else was looking, he would watch her stare at 
Clark's empty desk, and it would break his heart.  It was times like 
those when he wondered if he had done the right thing in offering 
Clark the job.  But, he would remind himself, ultimately, it had been 
Clark's decision to leave.

He remembered the way Lois had looked when Frank Bennett, a research 
assistant turned reporter, had finally taken over Clark's desk. 
There really were no words for her expression; if he had to choose, 
he would describe it as pained, at best.  To her credit, though, she 
had hid it quickly, and no one in the newsroom had been the wiser, 
except Perry.  He had been tempted then to ask her if she wanted to 
talk things out, but he knew her answer would've been something to 
the tune of "There's nothing to talk about, Perry."  So he had let 
things go, hoping she would eventually sort things out and return to 
the Lois he knew before.

But now, almost a year to the day later, she was still progressively 
getting worse.  After reviewing her last attempt at a story, he 
finally decided he had to talk to her.  But calling her in as he had 
today had been harder than he would've ever thought.

"Lois, you're good, but even good reporters need a breaks.  I want 
you to take a couple of days off."  He held a hand up to silence any 
further protest from her.  "Lois, you need this."

"Perry--"

"No arguments, Lois.  I mean it.  Take a couple of days off."

"If you would've just let me speak, you would've found I was about to 
agree with you," Lois said icily.  "I think you're right; I need a 
break."  At first, she couldn't believe she'd actually said it.  She 
had been thinking about taking a little time off for a while now, but 
she hadn't been able to bring herself to ask for it.  But now she had 
an excuse; she could tell everyone Perry had forced her to, and that 
would save her reputation.  Well, whatever was left of it, Lois 
thought sourly.

Her decision made, she rose quickly, turning on her heel and walking 
out of his office before he had a chance to respond.  She closed the 
door softly behind her andmade her way to her desk to collect her 
things.

Perry looked through the slits in the open blinds in disbelief.  He 
had been so sure she would put up a fight; Lois always did whenever 
he asked her to take some time off.  But this time, she had been 
strangely agreeable.  Perry put a hand to his forehead, watching her 
methodically gather her coat and brief case.  This just wasn't like 
Lois.  Could it be that things were even worse than they seemed?

==========

"Oh, yes, it's good to be free," the woman said into the telephone 
she held between her chin and shoulder.  "It was awful, but in a way, 
I'm kind of glad things turned out the way they did.  It gave me a 
chance to really examine my life and question the decisions I was 
making for myself.  I found I was caught in a sticky web of greed and 
deceit, but deep down, I was longing for a way out.  Jail was an 
eye-opening experience, and I realized while I was there that I 
couldn't go on living like a criminal.  I couldn't live with the fact 
that the world would remember me as a felon."

"I see," came the male voice on the other end of the line.  He 
paused, taking down a few notes on what she had just said.  "And do 
you think society will accept the new you?  How do you think people 
will react?"

Any way I want them to, she wanted to say, but she held her tongue 
and said what the reporter wanted to hear.  "I believe it will be 
difficult at first, but I am confident that once people are able to 
talk to me, they will see I've changed.  Turned over a new leaf, 
even.  Isn't that the way the old saying goes?"  She laughed 
charmingly into the phone.

"Yes, I believe so."  The young standout reporter from the Metropolis 
Star chuckled politely along with her, but then his voice took on a 
more serious note.  "But I have heard that the Rainforest Consortium 
sued you for defamation of character.  How did that suit resolve, Ms. 
Trevino?  You have to know there are a lot of people around that 
organization who are still extremely angry with you."  Though the 
reporter hadn't been around Metropolis when this case was big news, 
he knew the gist of the story.  Barbara Trevino, a well-respected 
environmentalist, had taken over the position as head of the 
Rainforest Consortium, apparently eager to do her part to save the 
rainforest.  Her real agenda, however, was to use her power to grant 
Hobb's Mining the exclusive strip mining rights they needed to mine 
in a protected section of the Brazilian Rainforest.  When Lois Lane 
had gotten wind of the situation, though, Trevino had been stopped 
and put in jail.

It was rumored that Trevino also had been behind the death of Dr. 
Vincent Whininger, but no one had been able to prove anything. 
Instead, a man by the name of Sebastian Finn had been convicted of 
Whininger's murder, and he had been tight-lipped about any 
involvement on Trevino's part.  Finn had served only several months 
in prison before escaping, dressed as a prison guard.  It seemed his 
nickname as "Mr. Makeup" served him well.  He had never been found, 
though the police had tightened security around Trevino just in case 
her "alleged" cohort attempted to break her out, too.

Lost in his thoughts, the reporter almost missed her answer.  "The 
Rainforest Consortium and I have an agreement.  I don't mention the 
incident as long as they don't mention my involvement.  Terms of the 
settlement, you know.  I will say, though, that I deeply regret any 
harm that I may have caused.  They are a very worthy operation, and I 
only wish them the best."

"And what will you do now, Ms. Trevino?  Now that you're out and 
'back in the swing of things'?"

"Well, I can't reveal all my secrets to you, Mr. Malrooney.  Surely 
you understand that.  Let's just say my plans include business deals 
and new beginnings.  Thank you for your time, sir."

"Thank you, Ms. Trevino."

The aging blond-haired woman slid the phone back onto its cradle, 
satisfied with the way her first interview had gone.  She laughed 
softly.  People were so easily manipulated.  If they wanted to 
believe you were good, then you were.  If they wanted to brand you 
criminal, suddenly your picture was posted in every bank in 
Metropolis.  They were fickle, and that would prove to be her 
Excaliber.  She had deceived them once, and she would do it again.

"How did the interview go?" a voice called from the foyer.

She dismissed the question with a wave of her hand.  "Exactly the way 
I knew it would."

A dark-haired man entered the study, his civilian clothes rumpled 
from the nap he had taken.  His mustache was brownish and curled up 
at one end, making him look almost off-balance.

She laughed.  "You're a bit crooked, darling."

He laughed too, catching her double meaning.  "You're a bit crooked 
too, Barbara."  He glanced up sheepishly, going over to the mirror to 
adjust himself.  "I never could get the hang of these things," he 
murmured.  "Give me my clean shave any day."

"Yes, but we can't have anyone recognizing you, now can we?  We've 
come too far to get caught in a silly mistake, Sebastian."

"Barbara, you can hardly remember what I really look like, for god's 
sake.  How is anyone else going to?"

She leaned back in the plush forest-green armchair, chuckling.  "I 
know, but we still can't take any chances."  Her voice sobered.  "Not 
until we figure out what to do about Lois Lane.  That partner of hers 
is gone, but she still works at the Planet, you know.  She could be a 
problem."

"I'll take care of her," Finn promised.  "She was responsible for my 
demise, anyway.  I owe her one," he finished with a sly grin.

"Not until after you've completed our main goal first," Trevino 
reminded him.  "I want Southside Industries vulnerable for takeover; 
then we'll deal with Lane."

"But what if she becomes a problem before?  What if she figures out 
what we're doing?"

"I guess you'll have to kill her then, of course.  Lois Lane will not 
stand in my way this time."  Trevino paused, moving to stare out the 
window that overlooked the city.  "Nothing is going to stand in my 
way."

==========

The shuffled steps of a tired reporter echoed through the empty 
hallway of an apartment building on Carter Avenue.  Making her way 
through the door of apartment 501, Lois tossed her keys and her coat 
onto the couch and laid her briefcase on the coffee table.  With a 
sigh, she glanced at her watch.  It was still early yet, barely four 
o'clock.  Normally at this time, she would still be at the Planet, 
scrambling to put the finishing touches on some story for the evening 
edition.

But Perry had decreed earlier that she was badly in need of a break, 
so she'd listlessly agreed, surprising even herself, and packed up to 
go home.  Driving home to her apartment, she had tried not to think 
about the prospect of dinner alone... again.  The task proved 
unsuccessful, however, and those thoughts came the same way they 
always did.  She just wasn't used to eating alone, even after all 
this time.  How many times had she and Clark shared meals in the 
years they'd worked together?

Before he had left, eating their meals together had been somewhat of 
a habit, she reflected with a sad smile.  Because of their work 
schedule, they always seemed to have to fight to find the chance to 
eat.  Usually, she would be the one to get so totally wrapped up in 
some story that she would forget the time, and it would be Clark who 
would come up behind her, tap her on the shoulder, and suggest with a 
smile that they both take a breather.  Then they would go downtown 
and try the newest Chinese restaurant; or, when the money was tight, 
just go back to Clark's apartment and cook dinner together.  Lois 
laughed softly, remembering.  She had become somewhat of a better 
cook because of those impromptu cooking lessons.

After four years of working with the man, Lois could now admit 
without reservation that they got along beautifully; they 
complemented each other well, both professionally and personally. 
Professionally, he was the more human-interest oriented of the two, 
while she was a cold, hard facts kind of gal.  He was cautious where 
she was reckless; he was quiet where she tended to have a very loud 
voice at times.  He often used histact to get more information out of 
a source than she ever could employing her own bold approach.  They 
were opposites, yet they viewed many issues in the same light.  Their 
bond was difficult to describe to people who didn't know them well, 
yet it was strikingly easy to observe when they together.

Personally, their relationship was incredibly complicated.  Neither 
had dated anyone else seriously in the time they'd worked together. 
Mayson Drake had been interested in Clark, but nothing had happened 
between them; then Shaun McCarthy had murdered the DA who had gotten 
too close.  It was no secret that Lois and Mayson hadn't gotten along 
very well, but Lois still had been very upset at her death.  Lois and 
Clark had eventually bagged the men behind the operation, with the 
help of DEA agent Dan Scardino.

Lois smiled, remembering the flamboyant agent.  She had gone out with 
him a few times, but quickly realized that they weren't right for 
each other.  Lois had been the one to break off the relationship, 
eager to get things back to normal in her personal life as well as in 
her work.  Clark had acted unusually jealous during what had been a 
shaky few weeks in their normally stable relationship.  Dan had gone 
on to investigate another series of bombings out in California, and 
she hadn't seen him since.  That was really the only relationship 
she'd had recently.

Well, discounting Lex Luthor, Lois remembered with a grimace.  That 
had been one of the worst mistakes of her life, and she still found 
it hard to think about.  The time after Lex's suicide had been a 
horrible period in her life, and had Clark not been there to help her 
through it, she didn't know what she would have done.  Then Luthor 
had been miraculously resurrected by his doctor, Gretchen Kelly, and 
resurfaced, trying to recapture her affections.  Thankfully, 
together, she, Clark, and Superman had been able to stop him.  Lex 
was in jail now and would be for the next nine hundred and 
eighty-three years, Lois reminded herself resolutely.  That still 
didn't stop the shiver that raced down her spine at the mere mention 
of his name, though.  Lex was still alive, and alive meant dangerous.

Thinking back to all the most difficult situations she had been 
through reminded Lois what a good friend Clark had been throughout 
the years.  But a good friend was all he had been.  Though they had 
known each other for almost five years now, worked together for four 
of them, nothing romantic had happened between them, physically 
speaking.  He had never so much as tried to make a move on her.

Not that she should be at all surprised about his behavior; Clark was 
a gentleman, a rare breed where kindness won out over all other baser 
instincts.  A part of her was glad about that, but a bigger part of 
her was slightly miffed, her ego damaged just a little.  She had 
known from the beginning of their partnership that he was attracted 
to her; she just hadn't been interested at the time.  Lois groaned as 
she sat down on the sofa.  What an idiot she had been.

She had been attracted to him, too, during those early stages of 
their relationship, but she hadn't wanted to admit it.  As the months 
and years had gone by, that attraction hadn't lessened as she'd 
hoped; in fact, it had grown increasingly stronger.  Even when she 
had been under the influence of the pheromone compound and her 
attraction to him had been embarrassingly evident, she had denied her 
feelings.  Whenever she had begun to think of Clark in a romantic 
context, she had run.  There had been times when both of their lives 
had been at stake, and she still hadn't opened up to him.  Why?  Was 
she that afraid of her feelings for him?

It was just that Clark was such a steady friend in her hectic 
lifestyle.  He had always been the one person she could count on, no 
matter what the situation.  She wasn't stupid; she had seen the way 
romance could destroy friendships beyond repair.  And she was not 
about to let that happen with Clark.

"And so that leaves me where?" she wondered aloud, fingering the hem 
of her deep blue skirt.

Alone, came the answer.  Miserable and alone.

And talking to a piece of fabric.

==========

The clock in the foyer chimed seven solemn times, an ominous 
foreshadowing of the night's scheduled events.  "It's going to be 
tonight, right, my dear?" Trevino asked as she slid a glance over at 
her partner.

"Yes, Barbara, tonight begins our plan."  Lovingly, Finn ran a gloved 
finger along the barrel of the small .45 caliber gun he held.

"Well then, I suppose the only thing that's left to say is 'good 
luck'," Trevino laughed softly.

"Luck has nothing to do with it, Barbara, you know that."  Finn 
tucked the weapon into the interior breast pocket of the navy blue 
business suit he wore.  "It's all about the performance."  As he 
thought about his upcoming "performance", an evil chuckle escaped his 
thin lips.  "Ah, yes, tonight."

==========

It was later on in the evening when it dawned on Lois that she hadn't 
checked her private e-mail account all day.  She cleaned up the last 
of the dinner dishes, throwing the Chinese take-out boxes into the 
garbage.  Hurriedly, she wiped the counter and trotted over to her 
desk.

Lois lifted the screen to her laptop, impatiently waiting as the 
computer booted up.  She typed in her password, listening to the 
familiar dialing as she clicked "connect" to log onto the Internet. 
She was online within seconds, going straight to her mailbox.  It had 
been a week since Clark had last e-mailed her, so she had a feeling 
that she would be hearing from him today.  In the year that he'd been 
away, he'd rarely gone more than a week without talking to her.

She took a calming breath, trying to dampen the excitement beginning 
to bubble inside her.  She was a grown woman, after all, not some 
eager teenager waiting for the phone to ring.

Lois couldn't help it, though.  She looked forward to Clark's letters 
like she looked forward to her next exclusive.

In other words, she lived for them.

There was just something about the way he wrote that appealed to her; 
she had realized this the first time she had heard Perry read Clark's 
article on the tearing down of that old theatre.  She'd pretended to 
be unaffected by the emotional piece, but in reality, she had to 
admit that she had been immensely impressed by his obvious talent for 
combining facts and sentiment, a balance difficult for even the most 
seasoned veterans.  With a few words, he had brought emotions on 
which she usually kept a very tight rein surging to the surface.  It 
had never happened before, and it scared her.  Combine that with the 
thought that he just might be a better writer than she was, and there 
was more than enough reason for her to be instantly wary of Clark 
Kent.

With time, however, she had learned that he wasn't a better writer 
than she; he was a different writer, and together, they made an 
incredible writing team.  They each had their own individual talents 
that, when put together, flowed in a writing style unlike anything 
anyone had seen before.  It commanded the attention of the whole 
newsroom and captured the interest of an entire city.

The flashing words 'No New Messages' caught her attention and brought 
it back to the present.  Instantly, that awful feeling of 
disappointment washed over her, the way it did every time she came 
home to find that there was no message from Clark.

With a sigh, she disconnected, closing the window to her e-mail and 
shutting down her laptop.  She tried not to dwell on the fact that 
she hadn't heard from him in a week.  Come to think of it, the last 
time she had actually spoken to him had been a little over a month 
ago.  Lois set her computer down on the desk, before making her way 
through the living room and into her bedroom.  She began unbuttoning 
her blouse, eager to dispose of the stuffy suit that she had donned 
all day at work.

It had been too long since she had heard his voice, Lois reflected, 
pulling on the "shlumpy" robe that she always wore when she was 
feeling depressed.  She missed that deep, comforting voice that 
somehow had the power to make the world and all its problems 
disappear, or at least seem a little more insignificant.  She missed 
the way it felt to hear him say good morning to her when she entered 
the newsroom on a typical workday.  He would always have her coffee 
and doughnut ready; he knew that she was constantly too late to eat 
breakfast at home.  "Don't want you fainting on the job," he would 
tease her as he handed them to her.  "Then I'd have to do all the 
work."

She'd stick her tongue out at him or roll her eyes, usually 
commenting that he just wanted to make her fat so she couldn't get 
around fast enough to scoop him.  Then he'd laugh, and she'd laugh 
right along with him, each enjoying the quiet banter of two people 
who felt totally comfortable with each other.

She missed that so much.

Work was just too quiet without him.  People around the newsroom 
treated her differently when Clark wasn't around.  Even after all 
this time, there was still a rumor going around that Clark had left 
because the two had blown up at each other over a story.  Another 
rumor insisted that they'd gotten romantically involved, and, when 
things had turned sour between them, Clark had begged for a transfer.

There were several others like these, all different variations of 
essentially the same fabricated story.  None were true, of course, 
but Lois had been around long enough to know that there was no use 
trying to refute office gossip.  It had a life of its own and, given 
time, would eventually run its course and die a slow death. 
Unfortunately for her and Clark, they had always been a favorite 
topic around the water cooler, going back to the very beginning of 
their partnership.  Ever since then, there was always new gossip 
about them to be speculated upon.

Lois knew deep in her heart that Clark hadn't really wanted to leave 
her and the Planet.  She'd seen it in his eyes the day he had told 
her he was going to work at the Planet's London office.  She 
remembered their now year-old conversation as clearly as if it had 
happened no more than a day ago.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?"  He came up behind her desk, 
his hand lightly touching her shoulder.

She turned her head over her shoulder, acknowledging that she'd heard 
him, but she didn't take her eyes from the computer screen.  "Right 
now?"

"Yeah... please."  It was the quietly spoken entreaty that finally 
convinced her.  She stood, following him into the vacant conference 
room.

"Lois, I don't know... that is, I'm not sure how to tell you this," 
he began, pulling the conference room door closed behind him.  Having 
entered before him, she was leaning back against the table, arms 
straight and hands splayed behind her; it was a classic pose that 
clearly suggested her impatience.  They were working on an 
investigation, and though it was a Friday afternoon, she was anxious 
to get back to her notes.  What in the world could be so important 
that he had to drag her all the way in here?

"What is it, Clark?  Perry needs my notes in--"

He broke in quickly before she could get sidetracked.  "I'm leaving, 
Lois.  Perry's offered me an internship in London, and I've decided 
to take it.  My flight leaves Monday morning."

It took her longer than normal to process what he'd said-- and that 
was just his first sentence.  In reality, it took her much longer to 
get through the rest of his statement.  "What?  You're leaving? 
Monday?"  The words sounded a little surreal to her, as if they were 
in reality the punch line to some ridiculous joke.  She half expected 
him to laugh and tell her he was kidding.

Only there was no laughter, and when she looked at him again, there 
were shadows of tears in his eyes, confirming her fear that this 
wasn't just some joke.  "Yes, Monday.  I'm sorry I didn't tell you 
sooner, but Lois, I just didn't know how..."  He trailed off, 
seemingly waiting for her to react.

She felt like she'd had the wind knocked out of her.  Not even a 
minute ago, she had been working on a story with him.  Now, all of a 
sudden, he was telling her good-bye?  "How long will you be gone?" 
she ventured, desperately hoping to hear him say a week, or, at the 
most, a month.

Clark traced the toe of his loafers along a small crack in the floor, 
staring at it while he spoke to her.  "I'm not sure.  They said at 
least a year, and if I like it, well..."  He left the rest of his 
sentence unsaid, but the implied meaning was clear enough to Lois.

He might never come back.

She ran her hands through her hair, biting her lip and looking 
everywhere but at him.  When she spoke again, her voice was thick 
with unshed tears.  "So this is it?  You're leaving everything -- 
your job, your friends, your life at the Planet -- all for an 
internship?"

He dropped his head even farther to the floor, almost as if ashamed. 
"I know how this must seem..."

She didn't hear his words; she was stuck on one thought that refused 
to escape her mind.  "You're... you're leaving... me?"

That seemed to hit him especially hard.  He sucked in a breath, his 
face distraught by a torment she didn't understand.  With a pained 
expression, he looked at her, his eyes pleading with her to 
understand.  Finally, after a long moment, he glanced toward the 
door.  "I'm sorry... I have to go pack.  They didn't give me a lot of 
notice.  Um, I'll stop by your apartment, if you want me to, before I 
leave.  Sunday night, maybe?"

Her immediate response was to be angry with him, to rant and rave, to 
convince him that he was needed here.  But the way he'd said those 
last words and the look in his eye stopped her cold.  The words held 
a tone that touched Lois in a place only Clark seemed able to reach. 
Whatever his reason for leaving, and no matter her feelings about it, 
this was not a decision that he had made hastily.  He was the most 
kind, caring man she had ever met.  He was doing what he thought best.

In a moment, Lois knew that now was not the time to be mad at him or 
hold a grudge.  Clark was leaving in two days.  She only had two days 
with him.

Without speaking, Lois crossed the small amount of space that 
separated them and enveloped him in a hug that she knew would be one 
of their last for a very long time.

That conversation had marked the beginning of one of the toughest 
weekends of her life, she remembered with a shake of her head.  Both 
she and Clark had taken off early immediately following their 
conversation in the conference room, and she had followed him back to 
his apartment to help him pack.  Though seeing him box his belongings 
had been more painful than she thought possible, she had forced 
herself to be there because she needed to be close to him.  She 
needed to spend that time with him before he left her.  At the time, 
however, she had chalked up her presence at his apartment to helping 
a friend; now, in retrospect, she realized that she had been there 
because she couldn't bear to leave him.

They had spent the weekend together; the day's activities had been 
confined to packing, but the evenings were reserved for going out to 
eat and just spending time together.  She had never felt so 
comfortable with someone.  They'd stayed up late Friday night just 
talking, and she had fallen asleep on his couch.  Instead of waking 
her up, though, he had gone to her apartment and found her pajamas 
and her toothbrush.  After that, she had known he wanted her to stay 
as much as she wanted to be there.  The rest of the weekend had 
passed in much the same fashion, and all too soon, it was Sunday 
night.  Lois took a deep breath, remembering the moment that would 
remain forever etched in her memory.

They were packing up some of the last items in his living room when 
the clock chimed eleven o'clock.  He turned to look at her, saying, 
"Lois, you'd better go.  You have to go to work tomorrow, and my 
flight leaves at six."

She nodded slowly, knowing he was right, and silently moved to 
collect her things from the living room and bathroom.  They met each 
other at the door, and she let her gaze sweep over the apartment she 
had come to love as much as her own, now barren and littered with 
boxes.

"Well, let me know when you get over there," she said into the uneasy 
silence, begging herself internally not to cry.

"Of course," he responded, looking at the floor.  Lois noticed he 
seemed to be having the same problem as she.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment, neither sure of the protocol 
for this sort of good-bye.  A handshake?  A hug?  A kiss?

Finally, she dragged her eyes up to meet his and in them saw the same 
emotions she was sure were reflected in her own eyes.

"I'm gonna miss you, partner," she managed to get out, wishing her 
voice sounded as light and cheery as it had when she'd rehearsed this 
scene over and over in her mind.

"I'll miss you, too, Lois, so much."  He was blinking back tears now, 
she could see.  Not wanting him to be embarrassed, she moved to open 
the door.

He reached over, catching her hand with his larger one.  Then he 
leaned down, and she couldn't mistake the look in his eyes.  He's 
going to kiss me, she thought wildly, trying to remember all the 
reasons she'd ever had for not wanting this to happen.  None came, 
though, and breathlessly, her lips parted in silent invitation.

Suddenly, though, he seemed to change his mind, and his lips had just 
barely caressed her cheek before he had drawn back.  "Good-bye, 
Lois," he whispered softly.

At his words, her breath caught and a lump formed in her throat.  Not 
trusting herself to speak, she turned and ran to her Jeep, never 
pausing to look back.

==========

Lois sighed, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand.  Remembering 
that night was always emotionally draining on her.  She shook her 
head.  It had happened a long time ago, and there was no use now 
wishing for what might have been.

What she needed right now, she decided with a smile, was double 
double chocolate fudge ice cream.  That always made her feel better.

She was heading to the kitchen when the phone rang.  Curling her lip 
at the distraction that kept her from the chocolate waiting in the 
freezer, she changed her destination, veering to the left and towards 
the phone that hung on the wall.

She picked it up on the second ring.  "Hello?"

"Hi," came the deep, male voice on the other end of the line.

Instantly, the realization of the identity of the man to whom she was 
speaking made her breathless and a little dizzy, as if she had risen 
too quickly.  "Clark?" she whispered, wondering if maybe her 
imagination was playing tricks on her, conjuring up the man she had 
been thinking about non-stop for the past few hours.

"Has it been that long?  You don't even recognize my voice anymore?" 
he teased her, and she could almost see his smile through the 
telephone.

"Clark!" she cried.  "Oh, of course I knew it was you.  How are you?"

Clark laughed.  He could hear her excited tone as clearly as if he 
were really there beside her.  Just hearing her voice made the dreary 
London night instantly brighter.  "I'm doing fine," he answered. 
"What about you?"

"Oh, just fine," Lois said, instantly forgetting the depressed mood 
that had preceded her urgent need for chocolate ice cream just 
moments ago.  She closed her eyes, letting the vibrations of his 
words drift down around her; it felt so good to hear his voice.

It was only when he replied, "Mmm, it feels good to hear yours, too," 
that made her realize her last thought had somehow found its way out 
of her mouth.

"Oh, I didn't realize... I mean, I didn't mean... uh, thanks," she 
finally said, unsure of how to fix the faux pas and deciding just to 
go ahead and take the compliment.

"Is this a bad time?" Clark asked worriedly.  "I tried the Planet, 
and they said you'd already gone home.  Are you feeling okay?"

Other than the fact that I miss you so much that I can hardly write 
anymore, I'm just peachy, she thought, but instead said aloud, "Yeah, 
well, I'm just having a tough time with a few stories.  Perry thought 
I should step back a little and rework my angle, you know, get my 
thoughts straight."

"Yeah, you need to do that sometimes," he responded conversationally. 
"You work too hard, Lois."

"Guilty as charged," she laughed.  "Though," she continued in a 
softer, almost faraway voice, "I've found I don't enjoy my work as 
much as I used to."

"Really?  Why is that?"

Because you aren't there, she added silently, the words on the tip of 
her tongue.  She swallowed them with one hard gulp while searching 
for the right words to say.  "Hmm, I don't really know.  Maybe I'm 
just getting old and slowing down," she joked, trying to make light 
of the subject, but quickly changed topics before she spilled out all 
her feelings to him.  "But you're still enjoying your job, aren't 
you?"

"It's really a great job," Clark replied truthfully.  "In fact, 
Harold thinks I'll be ready to take on even more responsibilities by 
the end of next month."

"Oh, that's fantastic," she interjected, trying to keep her voice happy.

"But I still miss reporting," Clark added.  "I miss it a lot."  I 
miss you a lot, too, he wanted to say, but didn't.  They'd done 
sentimental before, the first time he had called her from London. 
They'd talked about how much they missed their partnership and even 
briefly about how they missed each other.  He had almost told her how 
he really felt about her, but then she had made a big deal about how 
proud she was of him and how she thought this was for the best 
anyway.  He'd had no choice but to agree, hiding his feelings once 
again.

"I know you miss it, Clark.  But you have a great opportunity in 
front of you," she reminded him.

"I know," he said into the phone, wishing he were with her now.

There was a pause.  Tension seemed to hover on the line between them; 
both had so much to say, but neither could find the right words.  "So 
how is the gang?  Perry and Jimmy doing okay?" Clark asked, finally 
opting to go with the more mundane conversation, if only partly to 
fill the silence.

"They're great," Lois responded, almost a little disappointed that he 
hadn't asked more about what was going on in her own life before 
inquiring about Perry and Jimmy.  It was a selfish notion, however; 
Perry and Jimmy were just as important to him as she was.  There was 
no reason she should get any kind of special treatment from him.  "In 
fact, Jimmy and Penny are getting pretty serious.  You should see 
them together, Clark -- they're so cute.  And Perry and Alice are 
doing wonderfully as well."

"That's good to hear," was his dull, boring reply.  Mentally, he 
kicked himself for sounding so stupid.  Why was it so hard to talk to 
her now?  Why couldn't he just tell her what he was thinking, the way 
he used to?  Why was it so much easier to talk through e-mail than 
actually talk to her?

Because through e-mail you can't hear her voice, his mind so 
graciously reminded him.  It's when you hear her voice that you 
realize how much you truly miss her.

Thankfully, Lois interrupted his thoughts before they could run away 
with him.  But what she said was not what he wanted to hear.  "Well, 
I know it's not cheap to call over here," she told him, sounding 
reluctant.  "I should let you go."

The fast breath he drew hissed through his teeth.  No, don't go 
already, he wanted to say, but just as he was about to speak, his 
superhearing picked up an emergency call from a plane that was going 
down somewhere over the Atlantic.  "Okay.  I have to get to bed 
anyway," he quickly agreed.

Lois frowned slightly.  It sounded almost as if he were in a hurry to 
get off the phone, making her wonder if he had just felt obligated to 
call her because he hadn't talked to her in a long time.  She tried 
not to let her disappointment over his words creep into her voice. 
"Oh yeah, it's getting late over there, isn't it?  You really should 
get some sleep."

Clark felt a quiet smile curve over his mouth.  It was nice to know 
she still worried about him enough to tell him to get enough sleep at 
night.  "Yes, it is.  Listen, I'll send you an e-mail later on this 
week, okay?"

"Sure, of course.  It was good to talk to you."  Lois hated the 
endings of these conversations.  It all sounded so strained and 
formal.  She wanted to tell him she missed him so much and 
desperately wanted to see him.  But who knew how long it would be 
before he came back to the States?  He had taken a trip back home to 
see his parents only a few months ago, she knew.  Martha had called 
her and told her that Clark was coming to Smallville, but 
unfortunately, Lois had been out of town that weekend, attending her 
cousin Cindy's fourth -- or had it been her fifth?--wedding.  How 
desperately she had wanted to switch that flight so she could go to 
Smallville.  Over the years, she had grown close to Clark's parents, 
especially Martha.  Lois loved her like a mother, and she would have 
loved to go visit them.  Of course, the fact that Clark was there 
didn't have anything to do with wanting to go to Kansas.

Yeah, right.

His voice broke into her thoughts.  "It was great to talk to you, 
too," he said sincerely, but still sounded rushed.  "Next time, I 
promise it won't be so long between calls."

"It better not be," was her teasing reply, but there was an 
underlying hint of seriousness in her tone.

"I'll talk to you soon," he promised.  "Good night, Lois."

"Good night, Clark," she whispered and waited until he hung up first. 
She always waited until he broke the connection.  She couldn't bear 
to.

Sighing, she finally hung up the phone when the dial tone began to 
hum annoyingly into her right ear.  She pattered slowly back into the 
bedroom, chocolate now long forgotten.  She sank into the mattress, 
curled up into a fetal position on the bed and closed her eyes 
against the tears that were already gathering behind her eyelids. 
Maybe a nap would clear her head.

==========

Clark came back from the plane rescue a few hours later, tired but 
not exhausted.  It had been a small problem, and he had been able to 
fly the plane the rest of the way to its destination.  His biggest 
problem during the short flight had been trying to concentrate on the 
plane and not on Lois.

It was torture, he decided, flopping down on the bed after he had 
spun back into his boxers and T-shirt.  It was torture talking to her 
and not being able to see her.  Every time he spoke to her, that same 
excitement flowed through him like an adrenaline rush, only to be 
quickly extinguished by the harsh reality that she was a continent 
away.

So why didn't he just take a quick trip over the Atlantic? he asked 
himself for the millionth time since arriving in London.  But he 
always came up with the same answer.

Sure, he could visit her as Superman, but what good would it do?  She 
treated him differently when he displayed the red and blue, though 
not as much as when he had first created the superhero.  He wanted to 
see her as Clark, talk to her as Clark.

It was true, however, that in recent years she had treated Superman 
more as a friend instead of a god in a cape.  For that, he was glad, 
but it still didn't replace the friendship that Clark and Lois had 
formed.  Lois confided things in Clark that she hadn't told another 
soul.  But while their relationship had evolved into a close 
friendship over the years, they still weren't as close as he'd like 
them to be.

And it was for that reason Clark had been secretly glad, to some 
extent, when Perry had offered him an internship at the Planet's 
London office.  Even though he wasn't doing as much investigative 
reporting, he was enjoying learning the ropes of a managerial 
position.  Running a newspaper was an incredibly difficult task, he 
was coming to realize.  He had always known that Perry worked long 
and hard to make sure the Planet achieved its standards of excellence 
each issue, but the extent of Perry's work had taken on a new meaning 
since his arrival in London.  Clark liked his new job, liked his new 
colleagues, and even liked the sometimes-rainy city in Northern 
Europe.  It was a beautiful city, full of history and character, and 
he seemed to fit right in.

But despite all of that, he still missed the Planet.  Well, to cut 
right to the heart of the matter, he missed Lois Lane.

It was difficult not to miss a woman whom he had worked closely with 
for four years, he reasoned.  It was even more difficult not to miss 
the woman he had loved and admired for four years.  She had been his 
life for that time; seeing her everyday had almost been his reason 
for going to work.  Sure, he loved reporting, loved the fast pace of 
the city, and loved its people and their dedication to the world's 
greatest newspaper; but by coming to London, he had learned 
relatively quickly that he could live without all of that.  He didn't 
need Metropolis to be happy.

He needed Lois.

Which was exactly the reason he had taken this internship, he 
reminded himself resolutely.  Working closely with Lois Lane had been 
both a gift and a torture.  Gift, because he had been given the 
chance to get to know her; not only the tenacious newswoman that most 
people saw, but the caring, emotional woman that she didn't show to 
the rest of the world.  Torture, because everyday they had grown 
closer had been another day that he had to just stand on the sideline 
as her friend and confidant.  Over the years, it had become 
increasingly difficult to be her friend, to be near her and not touch 
her the way he wanted to.

He had always felt awful hiding things from her.  From his true 
feelings for her to his double life as Metropolis' greatest hero, he 
hated each and every time he had been forced to lie to her.  And each 
time he ached for a deeper relationship with her, a little voice 
inside him asked, how can you expect to have a relationship with Lois 
when you can't be totally honest with her?

But, he always argued back, how could I be totally honest with her 
when I know she doesn't really love Clark Kent the way I want her to?

But each time, that little voice won this internal war, and he would 
renew his vow to keep his distance from the woman he loved.

Anyway, she had made it perfectly clear from the moment they began 
working together that all they could ever be was friends.  Though he 
had accepted that at the time, content to let their friendship grow, 
he had always known there was something more between them.  There was 
a connection; she had said so herself after the first time she had 
flown with Superman.  He was confident that as time passed, she would 
begin to see it in Clark, too.  He had been so sure that the day 
would come when she would realize the passion that he knew existed 
between them.

But she hadn't.  He hadn't pushed, either, so one could argue that 
the lack of a relationship between them was partly his fault.  He had 
just never been quite sure of the right time to approach her about 
it.  How did one go about telling his best friend that he was 
completely, head-over-heels in love with her?  It wasn't just 
something to be casually dropped into the morning conversation. 
Clark smiled, picturing his speech and her shocked reaction.

"Hey, Lois, good morning.  By the way, I'm in love with you, and I 
know you are the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.  So, 
do you have those notes on Intergang for me to look at?"

"What?!?"

Yeah, that definitely wasn't the way he wanted to do things.  He 
wanted the romance to just happen between them.  He wanted to be over 
at her apartment one day, watching a movie, and have her 
instinctively cuddle up to him or tilt her lips up to his for a 
goodnight kiss.  Then, when he felt closest to her, and knew she felt 
the same, he would tell her.

He'd had his chance last year, though, the night before he left. 
When he and Lois said goodbye that night, she had lifted her head up 
and offered her lips to him.  He had been so ready to oblige her, to 
kiss her senseless and show her how much she meant to him; but then 
he had realized that she might not even truly have known what she was 
doing.  They were both pretty emotional that weekend, and he didn't 
want their first kiss to be born in desperation due to the fact that 
he was leaving.  And if he kissed her the way he wanted to, could he 
bear to leave?  And if she responded, could he live an ocean away 
knowing she might have feelings for him?

That answer was a definite 'no', so he'd changed his destination at 
the last second and pressed his lips quickly to her soft cheek.  That 
little kiss had made it hard enough to leave her.  But it would be 
harder to stay, he knew.

So he had admittedly taken the coward's way out, jumping at the 
internship when Perry offered it to him.  Hey, he had worked 
tantalizingly close to Lois Lane for four years.  Didn't he deserve a 
break?

The problem was, he didn't want a break.

Then why had he taken one?

I don't know, he thought, arguing with himself.

It was so frustrating.  His heart and his mind were telling him two 
different things, and it was driving him crazy.  Clark rolled over 
and switched off the light on his nightstand.  There was only one 
thing that was coming through loud and clear.

He needed Lois.

==========

It was a typically hectic Tuesday morning at the Daily Planet.  Copy 
boys ran from the newsroom down to the printing presses, dodging 
reporters and weaving in between columnists.  Phones rang and fax 
machines spit information to eager writers typing on their computers.

Perry White was in his office, phone to his ear, calmly overseeing 
the semi-organized rat race.  He shook his head vigorously, as though 
the man on the other end of the phone could see him.  "Look, Jacques, 
I'm an editor, not a party coordinator.  I don't care what the main 
course is as long as it's edible!"  Cursing Stern for making him 
responsible for the planning of the Planet's fiftieth anniversary 
celebration, Perry took a deep breath.  He was trying to be patient 
with the French caterer he had hired, but talking about small details 
like cloth napkins and main dishes in the middle of the news day just 
wasn't his style.

"Chief!"

Perry's ears perked at the sound.  His name was said with a certain 
amount of breathlessness, a tone that he knew, from years of 
experience, meant that something big was happening.  "Listen, I have 
to go," he said into the phone, grateful for an excuse to hang up. 
The possibility of a scoop enticed him out of his office, seeking the 
source of the voice.

He met the young photographer and cub reporter behind Lois's desk as 
Jimmy came bounding down the stairs near the coffee machine. 
"Chief!" he called again.

"Olsen! What is it?  Why in the King's name are you yelling like that?"

"It's Robert Jacobs."  Jimmy stopped, still trying to catch his 
breath.  He had been out on assignment, taking photos of the new 
marina opening in the infamous Hobb's Bay area when he had heard the 
sirens.  Suddenly, everyone was being told to evacuate the area, and 
he had overheard some police officers confirming the identity of a 
body found floating in the bay.  He had immediately high-tailed it to 
the Planet, eager to tell Perry about his new found information.

"What about Robert Jacobs?  Jimmy, please tell me you're going 
somewhere with this."

Jimmy took a deep breath, then launched into the information he had 
overheard.  "They found him floating in Hobb's Bay about an hour ago."

Perry swore quietly.  Bob Jacobs was a friend of his and a business 
acquaintance from many years ago.  Bob was...  or had been, the CEO 
of one of the largest corporations in Metropolis, Southside 
Industries.  "Any clue as to why?" Perry inquired, running a hand 
through his gray-white hair.

"I dunno.  I caught a cab and ran here as soon as I could.  The 
police will probably hold a press conference later this afternoon, I 
guess."

"All right, kid, thanks.  I'll get somebody down there ASAP."  He 
turned around and took a quick survey of the newsroom.  "Where's 
Lois?"

"Don't you remember, Chief?  You sent her home yesterday with orders 
not to come back for a couple of days."

"Aww, blast me and my stupid feel-good decisions.  I need her here 
now.  This murder might just be the thing to build her confidence 
again.  Page her, Jimmy, and tell her to get her tail down to Hobb's 
Bay pronto."

"Got it."  Jimmy was off like a shot to his desk, grabbing the phone 
before he even had a chance to sit down.  There was no time to waste 
when there was a story to be written, especially when you knew you 
were competing with every other paper in and around Metropolis.

Perry made his way back to his office, mumbling beneath his breath. 
It was hard to be in the news business sometimes; granted, being 
right smack dab in the middle of the information flow had its 
benefits, but you also heard all theawful things that happened to 
people before most of the general public.  It was especially hard to 
treat the murder of a friend as simply a story and not get 
emotionally involved.

Why would anyone want to kill Bob Jacobs?  He was a good man, a 
straight arrow of a businessman, which was awful hard to find in this 
day and age.  The logic just didn't make sense.  Perry sighed.  But 
then, murders rarely did.

Hopefully, if any good could come of this, it would get Lois back on 
track.  She needed something concrete to work on, and this seemed to 
be just the right mix of concrete evidence and investigation.  It 
would be a story that would basically keep her out of the newsroom, 
too.

There was a reason he would rather her work out of the newsroom. 
Perry wasn't deaf; he'd heard his share of rumors about the reason 
for her absence yesterday afternoon, ranging from nervous breakdown 
to firing.  It was awful working a nest full of reporters sometimes. 
They were always looking for the "inside scoop" on everything that 
happened around them.

He needed to get Lois back in the newsroom, back to the status of 
star reporter and back to her old self, and soon, too.

Of course, assuming that was possible with Clark gone, he thought 
with a wry smile.

==========

The water in the bay was a gorgeous deep blue, and Lois would have 
stopped to enjoy the view had she not been recently informed of the 
brutal murder committed in or around its waters.  She had gotten the 
call from Jimmy around nine this morning, having just stepped out of 
the shower.  Not even taking the time to dry her hair, she had thrown 
on sweats and practically flown from her apartment to the wharf, 
arriving just in time for the police statement.  It was brief, just 
glancing over the bare facts before they were dismissing everyone. 
It wasn't nearly enough information to satisfy the public, let alone 
Lois Lane.

Lois, notepad in hand, caught Inspector Henderson as he came down off 
the platform.  "All right, Henderson, give," she demanded as soon as 
he was within earshot.

"Nice to see you too, Lane."  Henderson greeted her with a mock 
sincerity that always grated on her nerves.  "What is it this time?"

"Come on, you know what I mean."  She nodded toward the makeshift 
platform being taken down just in front of the dock.  "That so-called 
press conference was nothing.  You gotta give me more than that," 
Lois protested, trying to her best to wring more information from him.

"Lois, you've got ears just like everybody else.  You heard what I 
said up there.  We've IDed the body as Robert Jacobs, age 56, of 
Metropolis.  Coroner's got him now, trying to determine the cause of 
death.  That's all I can tell you."  Henderson was walking toward his 
squad car, hoping to lose the pesky reporter who had shadowed his 
every move from the moment he'd stepped off the press conference 
podium.

Lois stepped right into his path, forcing him to stop.  "Look, 
Henderson, he was a friend of mine.  I just want as much info as 
possible about his murder.  You know I want to find the guy who did 
this as much as you do.  Now isn't there anything else you can give 
me?" she pleaded.  In reality, she hadn't really known Jacobs, but 
she thought the detective would be a little more sympathetic if she 
said the victim had been a friend.  It was a tactic that some would 
call sneaky, yes, and a little disgraceful, maybe; but the bottom 
line was she needed to get to this scoop.  The solution to a man's 
murder and her career rested on the outcome of this one story.

Henderson sighed.  Life would be so much smoother if there were no 
reporters in the world, he thought.  He grabbed her by the arm, and 
hauled her off to the side, by the alley.  "All right, but you can't 
print any of this until I give you the okay.  Got it?"

Lois looked at him in disbelief.  "You want me to sit on information 
that could potentially lead to solving this man's murder?"

"Listen, Lane, you'll do what I say if you want the info."  When she 
didn't answer, he pressed again, "Do you want it or not?"  She was 
still silent, so he turned, showing her he wasn't afraid to walk away.

This time it was she who grabbed his arm.  "Okay, okay, I promise. 
Now what else do you know?"

Henderson gave a quick glance around to make sure no one was 
listening.  "His chest had several bullet holes."  Lois gasped as he 
continued.  "No other visible signs of physical abuse, though.  Could 
be mob or gang related, we're not sure yet.  He was killed recently 
-- less than a day for sure.  Probably more like hours."

"Mob or gang related?"  She furled her brow, thinking.  "You think 
Southside Industries crossed the wrong people?  Maybe a business deal 
gone bad?  Or a revenge murder on a more personal level?"

"Don't know.  Like I said, it's only a theory.  He still had his gold 
Rolex watch and wallet on him though, so most likely it wasn't a 
robbery attempt..  We think somebody wanted to send a message -- else 
they wouldn't have dumped the body right in the marina, knowing the 
grand opening was today.  Whoever it was, they wanted Jacobs found."

"But why the marina?  There are plenty of other places around town 
where he could have been found easily."

"From what we've been told, Jacobs stopped by the Ace 'o Clubs every 
Monday night for a drink on his way home," Henderson answered. 
"Believe me, Lane, it wasn't random.  Whoever did it knew his 
habits."  Henderson looked up, hearing his name.  He turned without 
saying good-bye.

"Keep me posted!" she yelled at his retreating form.  A dismissive 
wave of his hand was all the response she received, but it didn't 
matter.  She was excited now.  That rush of adrenaline that always 
accompanied good stories was coursing familiarly through her veins. 
That feeling was there, deep in the pit of her stomach, indicating 
this story was big.  It was a welcome feeling, one she hadn't been 
privy to in a long time.

Lois stuffed her notepad and tape recorder into her bag, eager to 
hail a cab and get back to the Planet to type up her story.  And to 
thank Perry, she reminded herself with a grin.  This was just what 
she needed, and she was grateful that he had thought of her.  With 
any luck, this would be the piece to get her back in the saddle again.

==========

Clark glanced at around his office and sighed.  It was a disaster 
area.  Books and papers were strewn about, and it looked as if he'd 
never had a lesson on organization in his life.  What would his 
mother say if she saw this mess?

Speaking of which, he should really pay her a visit soon, he thought 
as he began rifling through a stack of different colored papers on 
the corner of his desk.  His parents hadn't seen him in almost two 
months, which was an unusually long time away for him.  It wasn't 
that he didn't miss his parents, because he did, a lot.  But it was 
just that to get to Smallville, he would have to fly over Metropolis, 
and the temptation to stop and see Lois would be too great.

He had gone over to the States a few months ago when the Planet had 
paid for a ticket for him to go see his family.  It had been hard for 
Clark to fly commercially; he just didn't like it.  It had been a 
good cover, though, because he had thought Lois was starting to get 
suspicious about why he hadn't flown home yet.  He could hardly tell 
her that he had been visiting the U.S. as Superman for as long as 
he'd been gone.

It was true that he had been back to the city quite a few times since 
he'd left.  He couldn't just ignore cries for help that he heard, but 
luckily, Metropolis seemed to be handling Superman's absence rather 
well.  Usually he patrolled the big cities around the world during 
the nighttime and early morning hours, paying special attention to 
Metropolis.  He always tried to help as much as he could in 
Metropolis; he didn't want Clark Kent's absence to coincide with 
Superman's.

The worst part of his partially self-inflicted exile was the fact 
that he had left Lois by herself.  She had this teensy-weensy habit 
of getting herself into these dangerous, life-threatening situations, 
and he was terrified that one day, she would get into trouble, and he 
wouldn't be there to bail her out.  If something happened to her, he 
would never be able to live with himself.

Why, then, was he running from her?  If he loved her as much as he 
claimed to, why hadn't he told her yet?  Why wasn't he there by her 
side in Metropolis, protecting and defending his soulmate?

These were not new questions for him, not by a long shot.  It just 
seemed that he had been thinking them a lot more these past couple of 
weeks.  Not being able to see her everyday was really starting to 
affect him.  There was this ache inside him that wouldn't go away, no 
matter how much he threw himself into his work.

He sat back in his chair, pulling open the upper right drawer.  It 
was just as disorganized as the top of his desk had been.  There were 
copies of articles that he had already looked over on the top, so he 
threw them in the wastebasket.  He picked up another pile of articles 
and was preparing to throw them away as well when something caught 
his eye.

City Hall controversy leads to arrest of Judge Thomas Evans By Lois Lane

He shuffled through the pile, noticing that Lois's byline was 
attached to each of the articles he held in his hand.  He remembered 
that he had started keeping copies of the articles she had written 
just shortly after he had arrived in London.  They made him feel 
closer to her somehow.  It was probably stupid, but it had seemed 
important at the time to keep some sort of link to her.  It was still 
important to him, but he no longer kept every article.

He was reading through the last of them when he felt a piece of 
paper, much thicker than newspaper, against the palm of his hand.  He 
took it out, bringing a hand to his forehead when he realized what it 
was -- an invitation to the Daily Planet's fiftieth anniversary 
celebration.

He opened it quickly, hoping that the date of the party hadn't 
already passed.  He had received the invitation about a little over 
three months ago, calling Perry the very next day to RSVP, telling 
him to reserve a spot at his table.  Clark had been so excited at 
this excuse to see Lois, Metropolis, and all of the gang again.  But 
soon after receiving it, he'd laid it aside, unintentionally letting 
it get swept up in the steady stream of newspaper business that 
crossed his desk everyday.

He hoped he hadn't missed the day of the celebration.  Surely Lois 
would have said something on the phone last night had he missed it, 
wouldn't she?  But then, she hadn't been very talkative... what if 
she was mad that he hadn't been there?

He sighed with relief as he read the date.  Thankfully, the 
celebration hadn't passed.  It was, however, a week from today, so 
that didn't give him a lot of time to make travel arrangements and 
get a tux.  Clark made a mental note to stop by the tux shop on the 
way home.  Also, he would have to travel by plane because the Planet 
would be paying for his flight.  He wished he could tell them that he 
would make his own arrangements, but he couldn't do that without 
arousing suspicion.

It was such a heady rush to know that in a few short days he would 
see Lois again.  If he hadn't been sitting in his office, he probably 
would've been floating; he always floated when he was happy.

With a new burst of energy, Clark looked up at the clock.  It was 
finally time to head home, so he began to gather his things.  "Night, 
Harold," he called to his boss, whose office was just down the hall.

"See you tomorrow, Clark," Harold shouted back.  "Have a good night."

"Will do," Clark called.  "You, too."  He made his way to the end of 
the hall and stepped inside the empty elevator.

As he pushed the button for the ground level, he noticed that the 
button seemed a little nearer to the ground than usual.  Clark 
grinned as he looked down, realizing his problem; his feet were a 
good two feet off the ground.

==========

Though the bustle of the newsroom was all around her, Lois didn't 
hear a thing.  She sat at her desk Wednesday morning, staring at the 
day's edition of the Daily Planet, running her finger repeatedly over 
her byline.  Take that, Ralph, she thought snidely before she 
mentally slapped herself for being so petty.

"Good to see you back where you belong, honey."

Lois turned in her chair, curving her mouth to form an innocent 
smile.  "What do you mean?  At my desk?  Perry, I was just here 
yesterday, remember?"

"Don't be a smart aleck," Perry said, gesturing toward to the 40 
point headline on the front page that read 'Case of murdered CEO 
baffles police'.  "You know what I mean."

She grinned; she had known all long what he was referring to, but it 
was just nice to have him point it out.  "Good to be back, Chief," 
she responded, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Perry had to return her smile; he had sorely missed that bright 
sparkle in her eyes.  "That was a great piece on the murder, Lois. 
Very through.  You caught the mood -- the mystery, the senselessness, 
the danger -- extremely well," Perry encouraged.  He knew he needed 
to give her all the praise he could without it ringing false.  She 
needed more praise now than she had when she was a rookie in the 
journalism business.

"Thank you."  She skimmed the article, her mind recalling all the 
things Henderson had told her down by the docks, information that she 
hadn't put in this account.  "The investigation is far from over 
though, Perry.  The police still don't have any leads on the killer, 
and no one has been able uncover any evidence."

"It just doesn't make sense," she continued, tapping her index finger 
against the surface of the desk.  "Why in the world would anyone want 
to kill Robert Jacobs?  From the background check I had Jimmy run on 
him, he was clean as a newborn.  Not even a parking ticket."

Perry thought a moment.  "Well, you know, honey, no one suspected Lex 
Luthor until the end.  Sometimes you can't tell the bad because it's 
hidden so well."  Although Jacobs had been his friend, Perry had been 
burned before and knew the way crime worked.  He'd thought Lex Luthor 
was a friend, too.

Lois blanched at the mention of Lex Luthor and his ability to hide 
his evil ways so well.  She certainly hadn't noticed a thing until it 
was almost too late.  "Yeah, I guess it's possible.  It's just that 
Southside Industries was one of the most reliable, respectable 
companies on the East Coast.  Who could possibly hate Jacobs enough 
to kill him?"

"I hear questions, I see follow up stories.  You get on it, honey, 
and don't stop 'til you got yourself a Kerth, you hear me?"  He waved 
a finger in her direction.

Lois nodded, a determined look flashing in her eyes, one that Perry 
hadn't seen in more months than he cared to count.  "I'm on it, 
Chief."

Perry gave her a 'go get 'em' look and turned back to walk to his 
office, hiding his smile until he was concealed behind the blinds. 
It was only when he was alone did he begin to pump his fists in the 
air.  "Yes, yesyesyesyes!  Thank Elvis, she's back!"

==========

"Mm, while it's nice to read that Jacobs is dead, it's even nicer to 
read that the police don't have any suspects yet," Trevino grinned, 
holding the Wednesday edition of the Daily Planet in her left hand as 
she poked at her lunch with the right.

"Yes, it was so nice to see Miss Lane do such a lovely article on my 
best work yet," Finn agreed, coming up behind her to gaze down at the 
headline.  "It's no wonder the police are clueless.  No one saw me, 
and if they had, they wouldn't have recognized me anyway."

"You play the role of a nineties gangster so well, Sebastian, it's 
almost scary," Trevino applauded.

"I've always thought I'd been slighted in the acting department.  I 
still say my acting is as good, if not better, than my make-up," Finn 
stated, pulling on his blond wig and adjusting the face padding that 
made his chin and face thicker.  The navy blue suit he was wearing 
was classy and spoke volumes about the bossy, selfish personality he 
was currently portraying.

"So no one saw you?  Are you positive?  I get worried sometimes, 
Sebastian.  I mean, we thought last time that there was no way we 
could get caught.  Yet, Lois Lane found out about us."  Trevino, 
usually so adept at hiding her fears, twisted her face into a 
troubled expression.

"Lois Lane found out because of Whininger, you know that, Barbara. 
He was helping her, I'm sure.  And I know that no one saw me; even if 
they had, they wouldn't know it was Sebastian Finn, they'd think it 
was you-know-who."  Finn used one hand to gesture toward his very 
effective disguise.  "Like you, he's just been recently released from 
jail.  People don't like him, and if they think they're seeing him 
commit a murder, he's going to go to jail.  There's not a jury in the 
world that wouldn't convict him on reputation alone," Finn confirmed.

"Yes, well, I just want this to work.  I want to get to the top of 
Southside Industries, and I want to do it soon.  I'm going to start 
my part of the plan shortly, I believe," she added as she stabbed a 
piece of lettuce with her fork.

"You do that," he replied.  "I, for one, have another appointment 
tonight in the Southside, down by the dock."  Finn rapped his 
knuckles against the table as he stood, adjusting his coat.  "With 
every step we get closer to our goal."

==========

Lois stared at the front page of Friday's edition of the Daily 
Planet.  Her story was once again the lead, but this time she didn't 
feel nearly as proud.  Another murder had been committed late 
Wednesday night, but the victim hadn't been found until around two 
o'clock Thursday afternoon.

Tom Hamilton had been on the board of directors at Southside 
Industries.  Thirty-six years old, married, had two kids.  He'd been 
found down by the docks as well, but this time in a dumpster behind 
the Ace 'o Clubs.  It was another gruesome scene: gunshot wound to 
the chest, no witnesses, and police still didn't have any suspects.

Lois sighed.  This was really starting to bother her.  Why was 
Southside Industries being targeted like this?  In less than a week, 
men in two of its highest positions had been murdered, and for no 
reason, it seemed!  What was going on?

She wasn't any closer than the police were to solving this case, 
either.  She'd snooped around down by the wharf all day yesterday, 
but hadn't been able to find anything.  She hated the fact that, 
because she hadn't caught this killer yet, he had struck again.  It 
was a crazy notion, but she almost felt responsible.  Even after all 
these years, it was still difficult to separate herself from her 
story.

Whoever was behind this obviously knew what they were doing.  It was 
scary knowing you were dealing with a professional assassin, and it 
was Lois's opinion that the person that killed Jacobs and Hamilton 
was definitely a professional.  The murder scenes were too clean: 
there had been no slip-ups, no mistakes, nothing to give the police 
any kind of clue as to who was behind the crimes.  This guy was good.

The rap of knuckles knocking against the corner of her desk broke her 
thoughts.  "Lois, I hope you're planning on attending the fiftieth 
anniversary party next Tuesday night," Perry said as he rounded her 
desk on what looked like a mission to the coffee machine.

"I'll be there, Chief," Lois promised.  Not that she was really 
looking forward to it.  Before, when Clark worked with her, a Planet 
party had always meant extra time to spend with him, as his date.  It 
had become an unwritten rule around the newsroom that Lois Lane and 
Clark Kent always came together.  The parties were always fun, but 
spending time with Clark was what made them that way for Lois.  It 
was a guilty little secret of hers that she dressed up just to see 
his face when he came to pick her up.  He made her feel so beautiful 
when he looked at her that way.

But she didn't even know if he was coming to this celebration.  In 
her excitement to talk to him, she'd forgotten to ask him when he 
called the other night.  On the other hand, she was almost glad she 
hadn't; she didn't want to sound too disappointed if he told her he 
wasn't coming.

Instead, she'd resigned herself to the fact that, instead of spending 
the night dancing in Clark's arms, she was going to be lonely and 
miserable, dancing with old men.

Perry walked by again, coffee cup in hand.  "I have all of the 
arrangements done, finally.  It's gonna begreat.  Bring someone who 
likes to dance and knows how to dress."

"Speaking of the party, do you know if Clark is going to be there?" 
Lois slipped in casually, looking at her hands while she asked the 
question.

Perry tried not to smile.  "He called me a couple of weeks ago.  Said 
he'd do his best to be here.  You know he's got a lot of 
responsibility over there at that office."

Lois nodded, her lips tight.  So that was Perry's way of letting her 
down easy.  'He's got a lot of responsibility over there at that 
office.' Decode that, and it meant he probably wasn't coming.  It was 
okay; she could handle that.  Hey, she hadn't seen him in a year, so 
it wouldn't kill her not to see him at the party.

For some unknown reason, the thought brought the threat of tears. 
She changed the subject quickly, hoping Perry wouldn't notice.  "You 
know, Perry, I'm coming up empty on this investigation into the 
Southside murders.  Whoever's pulling the trigger on these men is 
good.  They're very careful.  The police have so little to go on."

Perry nodded.  "I know, darlin', just keep at it.  Something'll 
break."  He didn't sound all that hopeful, though, Lois thought sadly 
as she watched him walk away.

Suddenly she sat up straighter in her chair.  Sheesh, what was she 
turning into?  Some sighing, slack-job, self-pitying wallower?  She 
was Lois Lane, incisive Metropolitan reporter.  Whatever was going on 
with these murders, she was going to figure it out, police or no 
police, Clark or no Clark.

"Jimmy!" she called.  Lois smiled when she saw him drop what he was 
doing and scurry over to her.  "Get me everything you can on 
Southside Industries, and hurry."

==========

Clark frowned as his eyes flew at superspeed over Lois's article on 
the second brutal murder of a Southside executive.  He was trying to 
read between the lines of her story, but he wasn't having much luck. 
There was just something that didn't make sense to him, but he 
couldn't put his finger on it.

"Clark, the airline just called, confirming your reservations for 
next Tuesday."  Clark's assistant, Tim, stuck his head in the doorway 
of the office.  Clark gave him a wave, acknowledging that he'd heard 
him, but was too intent on Lois's story to respond to the young 
intern.

What was bothering him so much about her article?  Well, for one 
thing, there were blanks in the writing that Lois wouldn't normally 
leave there; to the everyday reader, they would be undetectable, but 
to the man that had made his living for four years working with her, 
they were glaringly obvious.  She knew something that she hadn't put 
in this article, he was sure of it.

What could be her reason for withholding information, though?

There were several possibilities.  Perhaps to protect a source, or 
maybe it was information that she wasn't allowed to print because it 
would compromise the investigation.  Maybe she didn't even know 
certain aspects of the murders; maybe the police weren't making 
specific facts public.  He'd been in that situation before.  It was 
frustrating, yes, but sometimes necessary in this line of work.

But if Lois was withholding information, it meant that there was more 
to these murders than meets the eye.  They hadn't caught the killer 
yet, so that might mean the police knew that they were dealing with a 
skilled assassin.

That prompted a horrible thought; it flashed like lightning, searing 
and devastating, across his mind.  Could Lois be in danger?  Did she 
know information that could get her hurt or killed?

Clark took a deep breath, doing his best to stay calm.  He was 
probably getting carried away.  So her article was a little vague. 
Big deal.  Maybe she just hadn't had her best stuff when she'd 
written this article.  He wasn't blind; he knew that her writing 
hadn't been as good lately.  Maybe this was just a more obvious 
example.

Somehow, though, that explanation just didn't sit well with him. 
Something was going on in Metropolis, and he intended to find out 
what it was.  Luckily, he would be there in a couple of days for the 
anniversary celebration.  Then he could talk to Lois about the 
investigation.

Talk to Lois about the investigation.  He was amazed at how the words 
excited him.  To work with her, to be near her, to listen to her, to 
brainstorm with her again; it would be just like old times.  It would 
be wonderful.

But then another thought rained down, quickly dowsing the fire of 
excitement that had begun to burn there.  Wasn't that the exact 
reason he'd left Metropolis?  Because it'd become so difficult to 
work with her and just be her friend?

And after a year of learning to live without her, could he go back to 
Metropolis and slip back into the same old pattern?  Did he really 
want to?  In London, he'd learned to be a boss.  He had learned to 
take control of situations, and he'd learned to work with many 
different people, not just one.  He knew he'd changed in the year 
he'd been gone.  Would he and Lois even be able to work together 
again without killing each other?

There were so many unanswered questions, so many different feelings 
floating around in his mind and in his heart.

He leaned back in his chair, throwing a glance at the clock.  It was 
time to quit for the day anyway.  Maybe he would go home and take a 
short flight around the world; it would give him a chance to think 
about things some more.

He moved his hand to the back of his neck, kneading the muscles 
there.  Perhaps it would be a better idea to go sniff around 
Metropolis and see what he could find out about the murders.  If Lois 
was in danger, he wanted to know.

His plan made, he switched off the light on his desk, grabbed his 
coat, and walked out of the office.

==========

Clark flew across the Atlantic Ocean, his red cape billowing behind 
him.  He noticed his speed picked up as he neared the East Coast of 
the United States.  His conscious mind refused to acknowledge why he 
was flying faster, but his unconscious mind knew exactly why.  He was 
getting closer to Lois.

Soon Metropolis bloomed below him and that feeling of coming home 
began to surround him, the way it always did whenever he came back. 
The sounds of the city floated up to meet his ears: the honking of 
car horns, the chatter of the people, the fast pace and the sensation 
that something was always happening.  He stopped briefly on the 
outskirts of town to rescue a cat from a tree, then flew towards 
downtown and checked on the progress of the remodeling of the 
Metropolis Trade Tower before making his way over to the Hobb's River.

From this vantage point, high above the river, everything seemed 
>calm.  Business went on as usual; ships came in and out of the 
>harbour, importing and exporting, and elderly men sat on the decks 
>of fishing boats, casting their lines and reminiscing about the good 
>old days.

But Clark knew from experience that looks could be deceiving.  Things 
might look normal, but his reporter's instincts steered him in the 
opposite direction.  There was something fishy about the Hobb's Bay 
area, and he wasn't just talking about the bass in the water.  He 
could sense it.  The two murders that had taken place around here 
were part of a bigger plan, he was sure.  Now only to find out what 
that plan might be, and more importantly, who was behind it.

He knew the police must have scoured the area for clues, but maybe if 
he employed his super powers, he could come up with something they 
hadn't been able to find.  He descended slowly, finally coming to 
land in front of the Ace 'o Clubs.  The people in the area 
immediately stopped what they were doing and flocked to him; it was a 
rare occasion that Superman should drop by in the middle of the day. 
"What's the trouble, Superman?" one man asked him.

"No trouble, sir," Clark replied, "I heard about what's been going on 
around here lately, and I've come to see if I could be of some help."

"If you would've been here earlier, the murders wouldn't have happened."

Clark glanced up sharply as his superhearing focused on the muttered 
complaint coming from the back of the crowd.  He knew that a few 
people in Metropolis still resented the fact that Superman had made 
it every clear that he was goingto start helping on a more global 
level.  They still believed that Superman "belonged" to them.  It was 
hard for Clark to admit, but he could understand why some felt the 
way they did toward him.  If it hadn't been for Clark Kent's decision 
to leave Metropolis, Superman would probably still spend the majority 
of his time in his home city.

But he couldn't spend any length of time thinking about that right 
now.  He had a murder to solve, so he ignored the barb and addressed 
the crowd.  "I wish I could have been here to stop these murders, but 
I can't dwell on that.  I have to concentrate now on helping the 
police solve the case.  If anyone saw anything on the nights the 
murders were committed, please volunteer that information to the 
Metropolis PD or to myself.  It would be greatly appreciated.  Now if 
you'll excuse me, I have some work to do."  With that, he turned, and 
the crowd dispersed at his dismissal.

As the people began to go about their business, Clark scanned the 
area with his super vision, looking for anything out of the ordinary. 
He wished he knew what he was looking for.

He walked around, stopping every so often to survey the land and 
water.  Nothing.

He inspected the boats and piers.  Nothing.

He examined the back alleys and dumpsters.  Nothing.

Clark resisted the urge to run his fingers through his hair the way 
he always did when he was frustrated.  He couldn't look harried and 
frustrated as Superman, so he slapped on his 'Man of Steel' 
expression and hid his emotions.

Just when he was about to give up, though, his super nose caught a 
scent in the air that he hadn't noticed before.  It was familiar to 
him in a way, but he was also pretty sure that he hadn't smelled it 
in a while.  Clark sniffed again and followed the scent to the 
water's edge.  That's when he saw it.

It was small, almost microscopic, but using his vision, he enlarged 
it so he could see it with no problem.  Slowly he bent to pick it up, 
rubbing it gently between two fingers.  It rolled softly against the 
pads of his thumb and index finger, and he knew instantly what he was 
dealing with.  He brought it close to his nose to confirm his theory.

Yes, it was definitely latex, the kind used in television and films 
by make-up artists.  It had that same distinctive smell he remembered 
from years ago when he and Lois had been investigating a terrorist by 
the name of Anonymous.  He had captured the sly con man because he 
had smelled the substance that made up the disguise.

Which, he reasoned, could be why the police hadn't noticed anything. 
He vaguely remembered Lois mentioning something about the smell being 
noticeable to a super nose only.  And since the sample was so tiny, 
it was certainly more than likely that the police would have passed 
it by.

But what could it mean?  Was Anonymous back in the country?  But how? 
Superman had personally put him in jail, and, with the long list of 
crimes he'd committed, there was no way that he could have been 
released after serving just two years.

He could have broken out of jail, Clark supposed.  Surely there would 
have been something on the news about that, though?  He couldn't 
remember hearing or reading everything about an escaped convict 
recently.

The best move right now would be just to take the sample over to Star 
Labs and then to the police, Clark decided.  Maybe they would be able 
to tell him something about the man - or woman, he mentally added - 
who had worn it.

He lifted himself into the air, flying in the direction of Star Labs. 
It would be good to see Dr. Klein again; he hadn't made many trips to 
the lab in the past year.  In fact, there were many places in 
Metropolis that he missed visiting.

His thoughts began to wander as he drifted, high above the city.  The 
Daily Planet and Lois Lane's apartment were right at the top of the 
list of locations that he missed the most.  Oh, how he wanted to stop 
and visit those places.  What was Lois doing right now? he wondered. 
Judging by the time, she was probably at the Planet, throwing herself 
into her current investigation.  Maybe he couldjust fly by, perhaps 
catch a glimpse of her?

No, stop right there, he admonished himself.  It wouldn't do any good 
to tease himself like that.  And how strange would it look to see 
Superman hovering outside a window by the Daily Planet?  And even if 
he did get the chance to talk to her, what could he say as Superman? 
He couldn't be himself around her.  When he saw Lois again, he wanted 
it to be as Clark.  Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted to see the 
look on her face when he walked into the room; he wanted to see her 
smile brighten and her arms held out in a ready hug.

And, besides, would it be fair to her if he visited as Superman?  She 
was in Metropolis, missing Clark Kent; she'd as much as told him so. 
And Clark Kent was supposedly in London, missing her.  He wouldn't 
cheat her by coming to her as Superman just to satisfy his need to 
see her.

But then the Planet building appeared below him, and that's when he 
realized he had been flying towards there the whole time.  Perhaps it 
was subconscious; maybe it was the work of that mysterious magnet 
that had always drawn him toward Lois.  Whatever the cause, the place 
where he'd worked long hours, met his closest friends, and fallen in 
love was now spread out beneath him.

For a moment he just watched.  He watched the people moving hurriedly 
along the sidewalk while cabs and buses picked up commuters and 
dropped them off; the hum of the noisy crowd was almost loud enough 
to drown out his own thoughts.  He saw Diane and Ralph run out of the 
building and catch a cab, probably on their way to cover some story. 
He resisted the urge to float down, just to say hi.

I must really be missing Metropolis if I want to talk to Ralph, Clark 
thought with a half-smile.  He would be back in a few days, though, 
and then he would see them all again, he reminded himself.

He'd begun to move away from the area when Lois's dark hair 
immediately caught his attention.  She was coming out of the office. 
He stilled, and the next few moments seemed to move in slow motion.

Even from this distance, she was entrancing; her movements were fluid 
and graceful as she made her way from under the Daily Planet globe to 
the curb of the street.  He tried to drink in everything about her in 
seconds; she was wearing a white blouse under a black jumper, 
carrying her briefcase in her right hand while her purse hung from 
her right shoulder.  She raised her left hand to yell, "Taxi!" then 
threw a disgusted look at the driver when he drove by her in favor of 
another passenger.  Clark had to smile; her mannerisms hadn't changed 
in the year he'd been away.

Another cab pulled up by the curb, and she moved toward it.  No, 
don't go just yet, he wanted to shout.  He was greedy now that she 
was within sight.  He could watch her all day.

He saw Lois open the back door, but just as she was about to get in, 
she stopped.  Almost as if she sensed that she was being watched, she 
lifted her head toward the sky, searching it with a puzzled 
expression.  Suddenly, her eyes connected with his; he tried to move 
away, embarrassed at having been caught staring, but found he 
couldn't.

She smiled in greeting and waved to him, tossing her bags into the 
backseat.  Silently, he waved in return.  She smiled again and ducked 
into cab, oblivious to his dumbstruck expression.

As the cab sped away, Clark followed it with his eyes until it 
disappeared in the busy street.  He knew he shouldn't have let that 
happen, but some part of him couldn't regret seeing her, even for 
that brief moment.  He was just afraid that seeing her had made the 
pain of missing her all the more poignant.

Sighing, he wrapped his cape around him, wishing it were her arms, 
and floated quickly toward Star Labs.

==========

It was Friday, noon, and Lois Lane was in the newsroom, making phone 
calls.  She had an incredible amount of work to do, but things were 
moving slowly.  It seemed the harder she worked, the less she 
actually accomplished.

"Hey, Lois," Jimmy called from across the newsroom, coming down the 
red steps by the bookshelves.

"Yeah," she answered, hanging up the phone.  She had been trying to 
locate Bobby Bigmouth to see if he'd heard anything about the 
murders, but no luck as of yet.  "What have you got for me?"

"I pulled up as much as I could on Southside Industries, and it's all 
here," he told her, plopping an armful of folders onto the corner of 
her desk.  "Good luck getting through it.  There's a lot of info in 
there," he said, gesturing toward the pile.

"Oh boy, just the way I want to spend a Friday afternoon," she sighed 
sarcastically.

"I know.  I'd offer to help, but I don't exactly know what you're 
looking for."  Jimmy shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

She laughed.  "It's okay, Jimmy.  Even I'm not sure what I'm looking 
for," she replied ruefully.

"I bet it'd be a lot easier if CK was here," Jimmy said, forever 
talking first and thinking later.  He saw her troubled expression at 
the mention of Clark's name and automatically kicked himself for 
dampening her mood.  She'd been excited when she'd come in today, and 
now he had her thinking back to old times.  He was such an idiot!

"Uh, I'm sorry, Lois," he stammered, "I didn't mean, uh..."

"Look, Jimmy, it's fine," she snapped.

He looked embarrassed and opened his mouth, probably to offer an apology again.

"Really," she stressed before he could make a sound.  "It's fine. 
He's been away for a long time; you can stop apologizing every time 
you mention his name, okay?"

Jimmy nodded, then turned and scampered away, seemingly eager to get 
as far from her as possible.  She let her head drop a little towards 
her lap.  She hadn't meant to be snappy with him, but the way he 
automatically apologized for saying Clark's name had irked her a 
little.  Did everybody know how much she missed him?  Was she that 
transparent?  Was it common knowledge around the newsroom?  She 
thought she'd been handling herself pretty well for the last couple 
of months.  So why was everyone still acting like she'd lost her best 
friend?

Her phone rang then, and she happily reached to answer it.  Anything 
to break this awful chain of thoughts.

"Lois Lane."

"Hey, Lois, long time no talk.  Eaten any good food lately?"

"Bobby!"  She immediately sat forward in her chair, pulling a pencil 
from behind her ear and a pad from the top right-hand drawer.  "How 
did you know..."

"You know me by now, Lois.  I got contacts everywhere.  Heard you 
were looking for me, so I thought I'd save you the trouble of 
tracking me down.  What's up?"

"All right, you know I'm writing a series of articles on the 
Southside murders.  I need the lowdown, Bobby, anything that the 
police might not know yet."  She held her breath, hoping, praying he 
knew something.

"Sorry, Lois, can't help you on this one.  I'm not sticking my neck 
in that noose.  It's a hornet's nest down by the wharf, and I'm not 
getting stung, that's for sure.  Anything else I can do for you?"

"Come on, Bobby, you have to know something.  I know you know 
something.  You have to help me," she pleaded.

There was silence on the other end of the line.  "Lois..."

"Bobby, please..."  She let her voice trail off.  She held her breath 
for a second, hoping.  When she heard a string of muttered curses on 
the other end of the line, she knew she had him.

"All right, listen, meet me in the alley behind the Planet building 
in twenty minutes."

"Right.  Twenty minutes.  Bobby, you have no idea how--"

He broke in with, "Bring me something good to eat," and then hung up.

Lois smiled as she replaced the receiver.  She grabbed her purse and 
headed off towards the lobby, deep in thought.  Now what was Bobby's 
favorite food?

==========

She was pacing in front of the alley behind the Daily Planet 
building, trying not to look anxious, when someone tapped her on her 
shoulder.  She spun around, startled.  "Bobby!  Why do you insist on 
trying to give me a heart attack every single time we meet?  How did 
you get here without me seeing you?"

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times -- trade 
secret, Lois," Bobby smiled.  "Now what did you bring me to eat?"  He 
glanced hopefully at the bag she held in her arms.

"Pastries," she answered, shoving the bag into his waiting hands. 
"It was the only thing I had time to get.  And a Coke.  It's not 
diet, either," Lois added quickly.

"Nice."  Bobby was rapidly devouring the first pastry even as he spoke.

"Now talk," she ordered.  "I don't have time to relax and watch you 
eat.  I have a deadline and a murder to solve."

"I know, I know, chill, Lois.  I got your info."  He paused to take a 
swig of soda.  "Gotta love that good old American Coke."

She nodded, trying to squash the look of impatience that she knew was 
threatening on her face.  But then he took another long swallow, and 
she abruptly plucked the bottle from him.  "You can drink later."

Bobby wiped the small drops of Coke from his shirt where they had 
landed when she'd pulled the bottle from his lips.  "All right, all 
right.  Sheesh, Lois, you'd think you'd never had a lesson on manners 
in your life."

She shot him a withering look.  "Talk."

"Okay, okay, here's what I've heard."  He took a quick survey of the 
area before he spoke.  "Word on the street is that Johnny's back in 
town."

Lois must have looked lost, because he quickly added, "Johnny Taylor, 
remember?  Head of the Metro organization from a while back?  Had a 
sister named Toni?  You have to remember -- you and Clark wrote the 
story."

That jogged her memory.  "Johnny!  What does he have to do with the Southside?"

Bobby took another bite of pastry.  "From what I hear, he's trying to 
get the Metro gang back together and back in control of the business 
deals in that area of the city.  But the problem is that Southside 
Industries is a huge company that practically runs every inch of the 
bay.  And since they're in the way of Johnny's plans..." he trailed 
off, but the meaning behind his statement was clear to Lois.  If 
Johnny wanted to take control of the Southside, he would stop at 
nothing.  And that included murder.

"Bobby, you're amazing.  You've just given me my first real lead in 
this case.  I owe you big time," Lois grinned, her eyes shining with 
excitement.  "Like maybe a gourmet meal at LeBardo."

"Hey, don't thank me.  I'm not really here, and I don't know this 
conversation ever took place, remember?"  With a wave, he began to 
step around her when he stopped suddenly.  "Listen, there's one more 
thing.  I've heard there's supposed to be something going down in the 
Southside on Monday night.  I don't know for sure, but that's the 
rumor.  I'll do my best to find out what's going on... if you'll 
bring Chinese next time."  He winked at her, then was gone, leaving 
Lois to contemplate this last bit of knowledge.

So there was something going on -- another murder, perhaps?  A 
crooked business deal?  Maybe Johnny would even show up.

Lois briefly considered taking her newly acquired information to the 
Metropolis Police Department, but then thought better of it.  No 
doubt they would ask where she got her info, and then she would have 
to tell them she couldn't reveal her source.  They always hated that. 
And even if the police did stakeout all over the Southside, would 
they even be able to catch anyone?  What if Bobby was wrong and 
nothing happened?  She didn't want to look stupid in front of the 
police department.  They didn't like reporters to begin with, and she 
didn't want to undermine her own credibility as they looked on, 
laughing at her.

Nope, she decided, she had better handle this one herself.  They 
could read about anything that happened at the docks on Monday night 
in Tuesday's edition of the Daily Planet, she thought with a 
satisfied smile.

She just had to be very careful, that was all.  It was nothing new to 
her and nothing she couldn't handle.  Contrary to what everyone 
believed, she could do cautious if she needed to.

And if everything worked out well, maybe she would be able to get 
some concrete evidence on Johnny.  After listening to Bobby, she had 
a pretty clear picture of the man behind the murders, and now she was 
bent on proving it.

And if Johnny was interested in the Southside, then so was she. 
Monday should prove to be an interesting night, she thought, and made 
her way back to the newsroom, planning to spend the weekend devising 
her strategy for Monday night.

And buy that dress for the Planet's celebration on Tuesday night, she 
mentally added as an afterthought.

Whatever.

==========

The air was slightly damp and the night clear and silent, save the 
soft lapping of the harbor water against the docks.  The neon lights 
of the clubs and the bars reflected off the water, the only light on 
the moonless, cloudy midnight.

It was the perfect night for murder, Finn thought, grinning to 
himself as he emerged from the darkness of the alleyway.  He adjusted 
his business suit and straightened his tie, feeling right at home 
among the shadows.

The streetlight up ahead was the one bright spot against the inky 
sky, but Finn stayed well behind it.  He checked his gold watch and 
waited, tapping his foot impatiently against the dirty sidewalk.  He 
hated the long minutes before a kill; he'd always found them to be 
tedious and wasteful.

Then he heard a car pull up.  He turned and watched a tall man open 
the car door and step out.  The man glanced around as if searching 
for something... or someone.  He was holding a briefcase, and Finn 
knew exactly what was inside.  He strode purposefully toward the man, 
one gloved hand in his jacket, softly stroking the barrel of the gun 
that was tucked inside.

The man heard the footsteps coming from behind him and whirled around 
with a gasp.  Then he saw who it was and sighed.  "Oh, good, it's 
you.  You scared me."

Finn smiled.  "You made a very wise decision in coming, Reynolds."

Reynolds nervously returned the smile, but his eyes were wary and 
questioning.  "But why the wharf?  With all that's been going on, why 
would you want to meet me here, of all places?  And this late at 
night, no less."

Finn ignored him.  "You have the money, then?"

The older man pointed to the briefcase he was carrying in his right 
hand.  "I do."  Finn began to reach for it, but Reynolds quickly 
pulled it back.  "First the information.  Your note said you knew 
what was going on in the Southside.  You said you would help me if I 
gave you the million."

Finn suppressed the urge to pull the gun out right then and there. 
It was too soon, however, and he was never less than perfect.  It had 
to be the right time.  Slowly, carefully, he chose his words.  "I 
told you I knew who was responsible for the deaths of Jacobs and 
Hamilton.  And I will tell you, as soon as the money's in my hand."

Reynolds took a step closer to him.  "This company's in shambles 
because of these murders!  We need to know why this is happening!  We 
need to know who!"  Reynolds gritted his teeth in anger, shoving the 
briefcase towards Finn.  "And we need to know now!"

Finn accepted the money with a smooth smile, oblivious to the man's 
ranting.  "And so you shall."  He pulled the gun from his jacket, 
pointing it at Reynolds.  His voice was icy as he spoke.  "Now you 
know who, but unfortunately for you, you won't ever know why."

Reynolds eyes went wide with fear.  One word was all he could whisper.  "You."

Finn nodded and raised the gun higher, preparing to shoot.

"Johnny!  Please -- no!" Reynolds shouted, but even as he screamed, 
the bullet raced towards him, hitting him squarely in the chest.  He 
crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Finn was putting the gun away when he suddenly heard laughter in the 
background.  It was high-pitched and echoed across the wharf; he 
could tell it was headed this way.  He couldn't waste any time.  Finn 
grabbed the dead man by his ankles and dragged him to the water's 
edge.  With one final push, Reynolds landed with a soft splash.

With an imaginary tip of the hat, Finn grabbed the briefcase and 
slipped back into the shadows.  Right on time, a car pulled up, and 
he slid into the back seat.

Another successful murder committed by 'Johnny Taylor', Finn thought 
with a cruel smile as he began to peel the elaborate make-up from his 
face.  It was amazing what a little carefully placed make-up could do 
for you.

"Drive," he ordered the man behind the wheel, and the car sped from the scene.

==========

Lois was sound asleep on Saturday morning, but that didn't stop the 
phone from ringing loudly at six-thirty.  After she ignored the first 
three rings, she heard the answering machine click.  Perry's voice 
coursed though her bedroom.  "Lois, how many times do I have to 
threaten you like this?  Come on, honey, you know what's coming next: 
pick up this blasted phone or you're fired."

Muttering under her breath, she flung the covers to the side of the 
bed and stumbled to the phone.  "What's it, Perry?" she mumbled, her 
voice thick with sleep.

"Sorry to wake you," he said, sounding a little contrite now that she 
was actually on the phone.  "I just got a call I thought you'd want 
to know about."

"Yeah?" Lois yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Police fished another body out of the bay."

That made her stand up straighter.  "What?"

"A little before four this morning."

"Who?" was her next question, but she answered it herself.  "Don't 
tell me.  Another member of the board at Southside."

"Bingo," Perry confirmed.  "The victim's name was Geoff Reynolds.  He 
was a department head at the company for fourteen years."

Lois shook her head, trying to clear her head and get her thoughts 
straight.  Bobby said something was going down on Monday night, not 
Friday night.  Could he have had his information mixed up?  Silently 
she cursed herself for not being down at the wharf last night.  There 
was no way that she could have known, though.  "Do the police have 
any leads?"

"They still don't have much to go on, but there were some witnesses this time."

"Witnesses?" she echoed.  "If they have witnesses, how could they 
have nothing to go on?" she asked, confused.

"Well, they weren't really witnesses per se.  There was a group of 
young men walking around the docks during those early morning hours, 
but they were, shall we say, slightly inebriated," Perry told her 
with an emphasis on the word "slightly."

Lois groaned and slapped her forehead with her palm.  Great, just 
what they needed.  Drunk witnesses.

Perry continued on.  "They told the cops they heard somebody shout a 
name before they heard the gunshot, but when the police asked them 
what they heard, they all gave different answers."  Perry sounded 
disgusted.  "One guy said he heard the name Bonnie, one said Tommy, 
another said Joey, and the other kid said the name was Johnny.  It 
could've been anything, Lois."

"Johnny?" Lois repeated.  Her ears perked up at the mention of his 
name.  "One said they heard the name Johnny?"

"That's what he said," Perry verified.  "Why?"

"It's just an angle I'm pursuing... nothing as of yet, though, Perry. 
All right, I'll be in as soon as I get dressed."  Then another 
thought struck her as she was about to hang up the phone.  "Do you 
have the autopsy report on the other two victims yet?  Jacobs and 
Hamilton?"

"Yup, just got them.  You can take a look at them when you get here. 
They say essentially what we thought.  They list the cause of death 
as a gunshot wound to the chest.  Both men were killed with a .45 
caliber, which leads the police to believe it was the same shooter. 
Not much we didn't know before."

"Okay, I'll be down," Lois promised, giving on last, longing glance 
toward her still-warm sheets.  "See you soon."

"Okay, honey.  Talk to you soon."

She hung up the phone, pulling her arms over her head and stretching 
her back.  She took a deep breath and headed towards the bathroom, in 
need of a hot shower.  She had a feeling it was going to be a long, 
frustrating day.

==========

The scene inside Southside Industries' conference room was chaotic, 
at best.  Men were yelling at each other while others silently 
occupied various corners of the meeting room, heads in their hands. 
One man stood at the front of the room, shouting in a vain attempt to 
get everyone's attention.

"This meeting must come to order!  Please, quiet down!  Please, we 
need to talk about this in a rational manner," Henry Kirby shouted, 
pleading with the group.  It didn't seem to do any good, however; the 
men were still uncontrollable.

"What are we going to do?" one man wailed.  "The company's ruined! 
We're going to lose everything!"

"It's cursed," another added.

"Please," Kirby began again, but was cut off by a balding man near 
the front, another department head by the name of Dennis Johnston.

"Gentlemen, what we need right now is a strong leader with a level 
head, someone on the outside who isn't affected directly by the 
murders.  We can't wallow in self-pity right now.  We need to move 
ahead!"

A man in the back stood to respond to him.  "You want to move ahead? 
We've just lost the three men that were the glue that held this 
company together!  They were the backbone of this whole corporation. 
How can you expect us to just move on like nothing happened?"

Johnston opened his mouth as if to answer the man, but instead, a 
woman's smooth, calm voice chorused through the room, quieting 
everyone instantly.  "I don't expect it."

There was a small, collective gasp as heads turned automatically 
toward the doorway and eyebrows raised at the older woman entering 
the room.  She was dressed in a teal business suit, her hair 
immaculate and her nails stained in red polish that really didn't 
match her outfit, yet somehow, fit the air with which she carried 
herself.

She breezed into the room, moving right to the front.  "May I 
introduce myself?  If you don't already know me, although I'm not 
exactly sure how that could be, my name is Barbara Trevino."

Kirby eyed her suspiciously as she spoke.  He'd heard of this woman, 
all right.  "We know who you are, Ms. Trevino.  What can we do for 
you today?"

Trevino smiled sweetly.  "I'm here to help, Mr. Kirby."

He shook his head.  "Excuse me?  What help could you possibly have to 
offer us?"  Kirby's tone was sharper than he'd intended, and not very 
businesslike, but this wasn't about business anymore.  The company 
was in dire straits, and the last thing he needed was this woman 
complicating matters.

Before Barbara could answer Kirby, however, Dennis Johnston got up 
and walked over to her.  "Ms. Trevino, I see my colleagues have 
forgotten their manners.  I'm afraid it's just a very difficult time 
for us."  He shot a dirty look at Kirby before continuing.  "I, for 
one, would like to extend a warm welcome to you.  Please, go on.  We 
are very willing to hear your ideas."

Kirby's mouth dropped open in surprise.  He took a quick survey of 
the room, seeing some equally surprised eyes and darting glances.  No 
one disagreed with Johnston, however, and Trevino took that as a sign 
for her to continue.

"Why thank you, Mr. Johnston."  She set her handbag on an empty chair 
and began to stroll around the long oak table, immediately commanding 
the attention of the entire room.  "Gentlemen, some of you may be 
wondering what I'm doing here.  Please, let me assure you, I don't 
want to cause trouble.  As I said before, the sole purpose of this 
visit is to offer my assistance to your company."

At Kirby's skeptical look, her smile brightened even more, but Kirby 
saw the falsity in it.  "I do realize that most of you know about my 
dubious past.  I do hope, however, that you view it as just that -- 
the past.  It was a time in my life that I'm not proud of, but nor am 
I trying to hide from it.  I've served my time, though, and now I am 
ready to move on with my life."

"Good for you, but what does that have to do with us?" Stuart Harris 
spoke up from the back of the room.

"A perfectly valid question, my dear Mr. Harris," Barbara assured 
him, reaching over to touch his arm as she passed, in much the same 
manner a teacher would pat an anxious student.  "You may not know it, 
but I have a history with Southside Industries that goes back a long 
way.  I knew the late Mr. Jacobs ever since he was a young man in the 
business world.  He came to me quite often with business questions, 
and we worked well together.  I was greatly distressed, as I'm sure 
most of you were, by the news of his death."

She continued to make her rounds around the room as her well-prepared 
speech proceeded.  "Upon hearing of the stressful times your company 
was going though, I decided that I owed it to my dear Robert to help. 
I need to prove to the world I can be trusted again, and what better 
way to do that than to rebuild a company on the brink of falling 
apart?"  She tapped one long, manicured fingernail on the table in 
rhythm with each point she made.  "I have the background, the 
financial backing, and the contacts.  I know what it takes to make it 
in this city; I know what works and what doesn't.  The way I see it, 
you need a leader right now with the credentials to pull this company 
back to its superstar status, and that leader is me."

The room was still silent, but Kirby noticed some of the men had 
begun to watch Trevino as she walked around the room, seemingly 
hypnotized by her oration.  Most looked interested and hopeful, as if 
she was throwing them a lifeline in the midst of a stormy sea.  This 
was crazy, he thought.  How could they believe a woman who was 
publicly known to be cunning and dishonest?  There was no way they'd 
fall for a railroad job like this one, Kirby was sure.

"Ms. Trevino, that's very noble of you, but I'm afraid you're not in 
a position to walk right in here and take over this company.  While 
it's true that we have suffered several great losses, we are capable 
of handling it on our own," Kirby affirmed, on his way to usher her 
out the door.

Johnston held his hand up, stopping Kirby before he could reach her. 
"Mr.  Kirby, I do believe Ms. Trevino has a very valid point here -- 
one that we should consider seriously."

"Mr. Johnston, I do believe you're about to overstep your bounds," 
Kirby told him pointedly.  Kirby was much higher on the corporate 
ladder than Johnston, but right now, it seemed as if Johnston had 
suddenly appointed himself a leader.

"I'm trying to help," Johnston threw back at him.

"And I'm trying to do what's best for the company."

"I believe that we're at a point in this situation where someone who 
knows business better than we do needs to take charge," Johnston 
reiterated.

"Gentlemen," Trevino broke in, moving to place herself between them. 
"Please.  I said I didn't want to start trouble, and I meant it.  I 
really believe that I could help Southside Industries, but if you 
won't accept my help, then the situation is out of my hands.  I do 
thank you for your time this morning and wish you the best of luck." 
She gathered her things and moved toward the door of the conference 
room.  Before she walked out the door, though, she turned her head 
slightly and murmured one parting remark.  "I just hate to see such a 
powerful company go up in smoke."

Maybe it was the threat of losing their jobs that was the last straw 
for the group of men.  Several of them stood, motioning for her to 
stop.  "Wait."

At their instruction, she stopped to wait for the group's next move. 
Then, like a well-choreographed dance, Johnston took his cue and 
turned to address the group.  "I hope you realize what a great 
opportunity lies before us, gentlemen.  There is no way we can even 
begin to salvage this operation without assistance.  And if we don't 
get that help, we're going to have every competitor on the East Coast 
swooping in to pick up what's left of Southside Industries.  I know 
-- as you all do -- that Jacobs wouldn't want his company crumbling 
like that.  I think we need Barbara Trevino."  He paused and looked 
around the room.  "Now, who's with me?"

At first his question was met with complete silence.  Then, slowly, 
almost one by one, the men began to raise their hands.  All Kirby 
could do was stare in disbelief at the mutiny he was witnessing. 
Once all hands had been raised, Kirby stormed out of the conference 
room, slamming the door behind him.

Johnston watched him exit the room, then nodded with satisfaction. 
"Welcome aboard, Ms. Trevino," he said as he extended his hand, 
giving her a wink that only she could see.

Trevino's caught his wink and matched it with an inwardly smug smile, 
but outwardly, she smiled graciously and accepted his handshake.

Another step complete, she thought as her new employees gave her a round of 
applause.

==========

Just two more days.  Two more days.

The thought had been running over and over in his mind since the 
moment that he'd lifted his head from the pillow this morning.  He'd 
tried his best to push it aside, but no matter what he did, it was 
always in the background.  Two more days.

It didn't take much to help him remember it, either.  A dark-haired 
woman on the street, the scent of that same perfume, reading a 
newspaper article in the morning -- it all served to remind him that 
the only thing that stood between him and being with Lois was two 
lousy days.

He had taken today off to begin to relax and pack.  He had a sneaking 
suspicion that this particular trip would take a lot more mental 
preparation than most business trips.

As he pulled a pair of khaki pants from his dresser, he tried to 
imagine what it was going to be like to see Lois for that first time. 
If the brief glimpse he'd stolen in Metropolis had been enough to 
make him forget everything around him, what was going to happen when 
she was standing in front of him?

What would she do when she saw him?  It was one thing that worried 
Clark.  Lois had always been unpredictable, to say the least.  He 
could never be sure how she would react.  Would she run to him and 
throw her arms around him, happy he was back?  Or would she regard 
him quietly, still harboring a lingering anger for the abrupt way in 
which he'd left?  Would she mix the two possibilities and run to him, 
only to give him the cold shoulder later in the evening?  Though 
they'd had contact over the last year, and she had never said she 
resented him for what he had done, how could he be sure?  They hadn't 
been as close this last year, for obvious reasons, so this visit had 
an almost first-meeting feel to it.

Then another thought struck him.  What would he do upon seeing her? 
Clark hadn't thought about that yet.  He would have to be very 
careful not to let his emotions run away with him -- he couldn't 
afford to slip and show her how much he loved her.  He couldn't let 
her know what he'd been going through for the past year.  Clark Kent 
would just have to play it cool, that's all.  He could do it.

Clark groaned as he threw his body on a bed that was already covered 
in clothing.  He grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and held it 
over his head.  What was he thinking?  Since when had he been able to 
play it cool in the presence of Lois Lane?  He'd be lucky if he 
remembered his own name while talking to her.  From the first moment 
he'd laid eyes on her, she had always kind of undone him, and that 
fact hadn't changed the longer they'd worked together, either.  In 
fact, it had grown stronger as he'd gotten to know her.

And despite what he might say, that feeling hadn't diminished at all 
in the time he'd been in London.  She still had that power over him 
and always would.

And that was exactly why he couldn't let her know that.  She viewed 
him as a best friend, a confidant, someone she could always count on 
to be strong.  He couldn't let her know that just a touch from her 
unraveled a string of emotions in him that were stronger than all his 
powers combined.  It would terrify her and ruin their friendship, and 
he couldn't risk that.

In going back to Metropolis, he would act like the Clark Kent 
everyone knew.  Happy to see his friends, modest in his success, and 
appropriately light-hearted and humorous when the situation arose. 
No one, least of all Lois, would know the internal turmoil she caused 
in him.

He could do it.  He could get through this trip.  Clark had to grin 
at this little inner pep talk he was giving himself.  He just hoped 
it worked.

All things considered, he was looking forward to the trip and the 
celebration.  He would see his friends and colleagues again and spend 
time in the city he loved.  He missed hanging out with Jimmy, 
watching basketball and playing video games until well into the 
night.  He missed talking to Perry and listening to those long-winded 
Elvis yarns.  It would be good to be back.

Once he thought about Metropolis, though, his mind inevitably came 
back to the smart, sassy reporter he'd left behind.  He would be near 
her again, be able to talk to her and touch her, to hear her voice in 
person instead of over the telephone.  The party would be a wonderful 
opportunity to spend time with her.

But the anniversary celebration would eventually come to an end, and 
that left only one question.  It was a question that would have no 
easy answer and would prove to haunt him throughout the entire 
weekend.

When the party was over, would he have the strength to leave her a second time?

==========

"It was easier than I thought, you know."

A smug smile and a low chuckle accompanied the statement as Trevino 
lifted a glass of red wine in the air towards Finn, who mimicked her 
movement with his own glass.  "I never had any doubts, Barbara."

She took a slow sip from the glass.  "Yes, well, though that may be, 
it's nice to finally be in this position.  It's only a matter of time 
now until I get Southside back on its feet and have everyone in the 
city thinking I'm a changed woman.  My dear Sebastian, I thought 
Metropolis would prove to be more of a challenge."

Finn grinned.  "Yes, it all did go rather smoothly, don't you agree?" 
At her nod, he continued.  "The police are still clueless, and I'm 
sure Lois Lane is the same.  No one knows we're behind the murders -- 
they were flawless."

"And speaking of flawless," Trevino interrupted, "I meant to tell you 
earlier that you put in a wonderful performance at the meeting.  You 
played Johnston to perfection," she purred.

"Thank you," Finn said smoothly.  "Although I don't think Mr. 
Johnston appreciated his accommodations in the basement."  He laughed 
out loud as he remembered sneaking up behind Johnston and knocking 
him out cold.

"Did you kill him?" Trevino wondered, almost as an afterthought.

"No, Barbara," Finn explained patiently.  "I had to keep him alive, 
or everyone would know it was an imposter at the meeting.  Most 
likely, he'll just wake up in the basement and wonder how he got 
there.  He'll wander home and come in the next day like nothing 
happened."

Trevino nodded, satisfied.  "We've got everyone eating out of the 
palms of our hands, Sebastian."

"Yes, all except one," Finn muttered as he remembered Henry Kirby's 
very angry objection to Trevino's offer.  He hadn't expected anyone 
to reject the proposal; when he had chosen to play Johnston, he had 
made sure that Johnston was a well-liked, well-respected employee at 
Southside.  Finn needed someone the board members would listen to, 
and Johnston had seemed to fit that mold.  He hadn't counted on 
Kirby, a relatively quiet employee, to be a problem.

"Ah, which brings up an interesting question," Trevino said, setting 
the wineglass down on the table.  "What do we do about our dear Mr. 
Kirby?"

"Barbara, I've already taken care of it," Finn assured her.  "I'm 
having the note delivered to him as we speak.  He'll meet me at the 
docks Monday night, and well... we all know what happens from there."

"Yes," Trevino murmured, her lips curved into a slight smile.  "Yes, we do."

==========

"I know I have a top-notch investigative reporter in there somewhere, 
but I might have to get the SWAT team to find her," Perry joked, 
coming up to rest his forearm on Lois's desk.

Lois glanced up at him and smiled, watching Perry's eyes as they 
traveled over the stacks of papers and piles of folders strewn about 
her desk.  "I know, Chief.  I'm up to my ears in this stuff."

"And just what would this 'stuff' be?" Perry inquired.

Lois sat back with a sigh and waved a hand over the papers in an 
absent gesture.  "It's everything Jimmy could find on Southside 
Industries.  I'm been trying to find something that could give us a 
clue as to why they're suddenly on everybody's hit list, but it's 
been slow going so far.  It would help if I knew exactly what I was 
looking for."

Perry laughed.  "I suppose it would.  You just keep at it.  Let me 
know if you come up with anything."  He turned and strolled back to 
his office, stopping to shout at a wayward copy boy.

Keep at it, Lois thought as she watched him walk away.  Right.  That 
was easy for him to say.  He wasn't the one investigating a 
frustrating story that was going nowhere faster than she could devour 
a Double Fudge Crunch Bar.  Lois picked up another file folder, 
rolling her neck around to relax before she dove into it.  She could 
really use a good massage right now.

The sudden memory of Clark's hands on her neck and shoulders stopped 
her cold.  He had always given the best neck massages when she was 
frustrated, and she had always secretly loved them.  The folders long 
forgotten, her thoughts slipped from the present and back into the 
days of their partnership.  In her mind's eye, she saw him get up 
from his desk and walk over to her.  "Lois," he would say with 
concern written all over his face, "Are you okay?  I saw you rubbing 
your neck."

Though she knew what was coming next, she would play along with the 
game.  "Clark, I'm fine, just a little tired, that's all."

Then he would give her that adorable, lopsided grin of his and say, 
"You work too hard, you know.  Here, let me."  And then those strong 
male hands would descend upon her shoulders, kneading her tight 
muscles and spreading a delicious warmth through tense area.

At first, she would pretend to protest, but soon his skillful fingers 
would lull her into relaxation, letting her escape the pressures of 
the story for one blissful moment.

Then, all too soon, it would be over; he would pull his hands away, 
and she would have to go back to the grind of work and getting to the 
bottom of a case.

Just like she should be doing right now, Lois thought with a shake of 
her head as she snapped back to reality.  It wouldn't do her any good 
to daydream all day about Clark.  She had a murder to solve and a 
story to write.

Lois reached for the thick folder again.  How much easier would it be 
if Clark were here to work with me? she wondered with a weary sigh. 
There was so much information, and she could really use a partner to 
help sort through it.  There'd been a time when Clark would have been 
seated right next to her, the two of them discussing angles and 
bouncing ideas off each other until one came up with a solution.

But that wasn't possible right now, and she couldn't dwell on it. 
She would figure this mess out on her own -- she had to.

Lois spread the contents of the folder across her already crowded 
desk.  What she saw in front of her was a documented history of 
Southside Industries' business dealings.

There we