All Stirred Up By Meredith Knight Rated: PG-13 Submitted: December 2001 Author's Note: It always bothered me that Clark's aura failed *just* enough to burn off his suit on the way back from the Nightfall asteroid, so I decided to write the story of what might have happened if it hadn't. In my world, the events chronicled in Witness took place before those of Honeymoon in Metropolis and All Shook Up. I borrowed the characters from D.C. Comics, Warner Bros., etc. I also borrowed scenes and chunks of dialogue from Bryce Zabel's excellent script for All Shook Up, and snippets of dialogue from other episodes of Lois and Clark. No infringement of anyone's copyright is intended. This story is an original work and copyrighted to me. My heartfelt thanks go to my loyal and patient beta readers for their inspiration, encouragement and very helpful criticism: Diane Trim, Irene Dutch, Kathy Brown, Pam Jernigan, Wendy Richards and Yvonne Connell. In particular, to Irene and Yvonne, who sweated all the way through the gestation of this story: it wouldn't have seen the light of day without your help! ***** -Introduction- As Superman strode through the small throng gathered to watch his departure, Lois was waiting for him. "How do you feel?" "This will work." "That's a relief. Why are you so sure?" "Because it has to." She smiled. "The power of positive thinking, huh?" "How are you feeling, Lois?" "Scared enough for both of us." He scanned her face. Everyone else he had seen that morning was terrified by the prospect of the Nightfall Asteroid hitting the Earth; they had no thought beyond relief at the news that Superman was proposing to fly several million miles into space to deal with the threat to themselves, their homes and loved ones. In Lois's face, for the first time, he could see concern for the danger to Superman himself. It helped to calm the sick feeling in his stomach. He lifted a hand to caress her cheek. "I'll be back, Lois. We'll go flying." Her face relaxed a little, and her lips curved at the comforting thought. "I hope so." "I have to go." "Good luck." But even as he turned he felt her hand on his arm; as he swung back to her, her hands curled about his neck and she was kissing him. It was all he could do to remain passive under the storm of emotion that swept over him. He willed his lips to stay unresponsive, his breathing to stay calm, and after a few seconds her lips faltered and she drew back, smiling tremulously at him. He gazed at her briefly, conscious of the news cameras whirring a few feet away, and hoping that his expression betrayed none of the mixture of passion and torment her gesture had aroused in him. Then he swung away again and walked briskly to where the EPRAD officials were fidgeting with their equipment while they waited for him. The technicians spent a few minutes fitting him with the radio microphone and oxygen tank, and he listened politely to General Zeitlin's pompous platitudes, firmly turning down the offer of the nuclear charges the General was so anxious to test. Finally, there was no more to do. He walked to a clear space and turned towards the crowd and the cameras, his gaze finding Lois once more and drinking in the sight - the last sight? - of her encouraging face. Then he lifted skywards, chuckling inwardly a little at the "ooh" of the crowd, awed as ever at the offhand display of his superability. At last he was alone and could stop worrying about whether Superman's guard might slip. He flew straight up until the sky darkened, and the stars began to wink into life. Above the sun, the three points of the Summer Triangle showed clearly, and he adjusted his course directly towards the northernmost star. Professor Daitch had painstakingly gone over the details of his route with him, relieved to find that Superman had a fair knowledge of the heavens - although he probably imagined that knowledge came from Superman's space-faring past, rather than from long nights spent floating serenely above Earth's troposphere, gazing spellbound at the wondrous vista of sky frosted with stars that no earthbound, human eyes could see. The earphones crackled into life, and he heard the voice of the EPRAD Mission Control operator. "EPRAD to Superman, EPRAD to Superman. Come in, Superman." Grimacing at the hackneyed phrases, he cleared his throat and responded, "Superman here." "Report your progress, please, Superman." "I'm on course towards Deneb, as planned. I'll be leaving the atmosphere shortly. I'll let you know if I have any breathing difficulties; otherwise I will conserve my oxygen supply. Over and out." He grinned at the confused babble of consternation that rose from the roomful of self-important officials and politicians, and thumbed the mike switch to the off position, mentally tuning out the noise from the earphones. Superman's reputation for taciturnity certainly had its uses. As the air thinned, the wind of his passage diminished and died, and the profound silence of space took its place. Superman adjusted the oxygen mask so that he could continue to breathe comfortably. The sun grew brighter even as the sky faded to black. All the summer stars were visible now, the Zodiac constellations - Aquarius, Capricorn, Sagittarius and the long arch of Scorpio - strung out like a necklace behind the sun, crossing the gauzy scarf that was the Milky Way. He rolled over to put the sun behind him, picking out the Big Dipper and the North Star. Soon a milky glow near Greenland heralded the rising of the full moon above the Arctic Circle, and he gasped in delight. He had walked on the moon itself before, but this he had never seen. All too soon, EPRAD Mission Control broke into his reverie to remind him of his next course correction. He rolled back to face the sun, checking his direction, and then veered directly towards it. As the heavens rolled beneath him, he was presented with a new vista of the southern sky, which he so seldom saw now that he had settled in Metropolis. Determined to dwell as little as possible on the reason he was out here communing with the stars, he let his thoughts roam over the last few months, and the excitement and challenges that Metropolis had brought him. He had always wanted to write for the "greatest newspaper in the world", as Perry was so fond of calling it. He had anticipated the thrill of being at the forefront of the breaking news, as well as the excitement of living in the vibrant bustle of one of the world's biggest cities. But he had expected to be able to remain anonymous among the teeming millions; he hadn't expected to find such good friends at the Planet - Jimmy, Perry, and above all Lois. Complicated, domineering, uncompromising, pig-headed, brilliant Lois. She had been defensive from the start, although she had dealt with him in her normal head-on, take-no-prisoners fashion. "You are not working with me, you are working *for* me. I call the shots, I ask the questions. You are low man, I am top banana, and that's the way I like it. Comprende?" And then, when he had succeeded in challenging her preconceptions, "Don't fall for me, farmboy. I don't have time for it." The warning had come way too late. Long before she had started to let down her barriers, showing him the vulnerable self that lurked behind her defences and the deep scars that had forced her to hide that self, he had already been head-over-heels in love with her. He felt he was making slow headway against her determination to keep the world at bay. With the prank he had pulled on her, sending her to search the sewage works for Superman's spacecraft, he had quickly established that he was no spineless pushover; but she was also starting to realise that, excellent reporter though he was, he posed no threat to her status as the Daily Planet's top investigative journalist. The night that he had announced he was leaving the Planet for good, she had even admitted that she was starting to like having a partner. On a personal level too, she was gradually allowing him closer and closer. He had managed, albeit by the skin of his teeth, to avoid damning himself forever by yielding to her pheromone-induced advances. When Barbara Trevino and her sidekick had threatened Lois's life, she had turned to Clark for help and comfort. She had even asked him to walk her home after all the danger was over. And then, in the few days they had spent together in the Lexor Hotel's honeymoon suite, they had had time to relax and have fun together, and get to know each other better. It had taken all his self-control to avoid taking unfair advantage of the situation, and when the chambermaid had threatened to catch them in a compromising position with the surveillance equipment, he had yielded to the impulse of the moment and swept Lois into a different kind of compromising position altogether. Yet instead of being outraged and retreating behind her defences again, Lois had accepted it almost without comment - Clark could have sworn that after her initial astonishment, she was even starting to respond by the time the maid had left them to their own devices. The only fly in the ointment was... his own Spandex-clad alter ego. Superman had seemed like a brilliant solution to all Clark's identity problems, allowing him to make full use of his special abilities while still maintaining a normal lifestyle. Allowing him to risk having friends who knew his real name and the whereabouts of his parents; allowing him to live in one place for months, perhaps even years, instead of having to move on every time someone became suspicious about a fortunate coincidence or a burst of supernatural good luck. Who would have guessed that the woman of Clark's dreams would fall as heavily for the mysterious superhero as Clark himself had done for her? It didn't help that Clark found it nearly impossible to ignore Lois when he was in the suit, and that he sometimes yielded to the temptation to visit her apartment for no particular reason during his evening patrols. And the only time he had really kissed her without reservation, putting his true feelings into the kiss, it had been as Superman. The memory of that kiss still sent delicious thrills down his spine, making his toes curl. Of course, he had had the excuse of being under the supposed influence of the pheromone perfume, and ever since that day he had retreated behind Superman's emotionless mask, giving her absolutely no encouragement; but he could still see the stars in her eyes every time she looked at Superman. How on earth was an ordinary man like Clark Kent going to attract her attention against that sort of competition? Once again Mission Control disturbed Superman's thoughts, reminding him of his third, and final, course correction. He searched the sky "below" him, almost immediately spotting the Nightfall Asteroid. His previous course had taken him up and over the asteroid, so that he could smash into its weakest point from a course almost perpendicular to its own, maximising the chances that the asteroid debris would be scattered away from the Earth. He picked out the Southern Cross constellation, slightly ahead of the asteroid, and turned to head directly towards it, to his fateful rendezvous. It was time to stop dwelling on his private concerns, and start concentrating on the dangerous task before him - for the whole world's sake, as well as for his own. ***** "Several hours ago, Superman said his final goodbyes to the crowd. He was described as calm but determined. His last words were, and I'm quoting now, 'I'll do my best.'" Gathered with her colleagues in front of the big newsroom television, Lois scowled and muttered under her breath, "No, they weren't!" The tension was making her stomach churn, and the hype from the newscaster, intent on milking the situation for all it was worth, was only making it worse. She had been spoiling for a fight with somebody all afternoon, just to blow off steam; but Clark had gone home with a headache halfway through the morning, and everyone else had kept well out of her line of fire. A flicker of worry crossed her face as she thought about Clark. He was frequently nowhere to be found, but he was never sick. She hoped it had nothing to do with being knocked down by that car in front of the Planet yesterday. Then her attention was drawn back to the newscaster, who was announcing a live feed. ***** "I can see it now. In fact, it's difficult to see anything else. It's immense." "Roger, Superman. We copy you on the ground. Do you have stress point acquisition in visual?" "Yes, I have." "Stand by for final briefing procedure." "I know what I have to do. Well, here I go." Superman thrust both his fists ahead of him and tucked his chin against his chest, bracing himself for the impact. ***** "Impact in 5, 4, 3 ..." The newsroom collectively held its breath. The televised display showed the asteroid breaking up, debris shooting in all directions. Then EPRAD Mission Control was saying something about having lost transmission with Superman. Ignoring the wave of faintness that threatened to overcome her, Lois protested gamely, "Well, his microphone went out. He's fine. He has to be!" ***** - Chapter 1 : Homecoming - He was dreaming of flying, free as a bird. He felt warm and comfortable. He smiled and opened his eyes. The dream persisted, only now he wasn't flying, but floating in space. It was an odd sort of dream. He studied the beautiful blue-green planet suspended before him. It didn't look at all familiar, but that must be where he was meant to go. But how? He willed himself towards it, and somewhat to his surprise, started to move. He tried turning round, and that worked, too. Now the continent in front of him looked a little more familiar. But it wasn't the right place to go. The white area down below didn't look inviting, either - maybe the area above? He headed that way, and realised it was going to take some time to get there. He closed his eyes again. ***** If Lois had been difficult before the news broadcast, she was impossible afterwards. Most of her colleagues had seen it coming and made themselves scarce, but when Lois went downstairs to turn in her story, a temp at the copy desk made an idle remark about how exciting the day's events had been. She was white and shaking by the time Lois had finished with her. Perry yelled for Lois the moment she got back to the pit, and told her to take herself home before she landed herself with a harassment lawsuit. She pleaded to be allowed to stay in case any news of Superman came in, but Perry would brook no argument, ordering the long-suffering Myerson to escort her to her Jeep. ***** After a long while, he opened his eyes again. He was still having the same dream, only the planet was much closer now. He was nearer the top of it - the north, that was it - and it looked more familiar. Yes, over there on the right, where lights were beginning to blink into existence. He picked the clump of lights that seemed right, and headed straight for it. Home. ***** After a day that couldn't have been worse - well, except for that brief stolen kiss - Perry just had to order her home early, and now here she was, stuck in a godforsaken traffic jam. For a brief moment, Lois considered leaning on the horn and screaming obscenities, in the hope that someone would succumb to a fit of road rage and start a fight. Then sanity reasserted itself, and she leaned back, closed her eyes and took a deep, ragged breath. He had to be out there somewhere. Superman could not be dead. She opened her eyes and looked towards the sunset. It was so beautiful, so majestic and serene; above all these petty troubles. Just like him. The traffic moved a few car lengths and stopped again. Lois's eyes returned to the sunset. Her eye was caught by the evening star, and she wished with all her heart that Superman would be safe. The star grew brighter and brighter, and seemed to move across the sky. That couldn't be right? Lois sat stunned as the biggest and brightest shooting star she had ever seen shot across the darkening sky and vanished behind the buildings to the north, over Hobbs Bay. Several seconds after it vanished, she heard what might - or might not - have been a clap of thunder. With shaking hands, she dragged her mobile phone out of her handbag and dialled Jimmy's number at the Planet. To her relief, he answered - he must have returned to his desk once she'd gone. "Jimmy, it's Lois here... No, I'm not going to yell at you - I've got a job for you. I just saw a shooting star like I've never seen before, and I think it landed somewhere near Hobbs Bay. It has to be something to do with Superman... Well, yes, I suppose it could just be debris, but how'd it get here so quickly? Jimmy, I want you to drop everything and phone around, find out who else saw it. We should be able to work out where it landed. But don't mention Superman to anyone - I want to be the first reporter on the scene. Leave a message for me at home if you get anything... no, I'm stuck in traffic, would you believe it? Get right on it, Jimmy, okay?" She hung up and paused to catch her breath, scanning the horizon again. Nothing further untoward was happening. Then she dialled Clark's number. There was no answer, and her phone started fading; the battery was going. "Typical!" she grumbled, and threw it back into her bag. But there was a light in her eyes that hadn't been there five minutes before. ***** The dream had ended abruptly, with a roaring wind and fire, and then a succession of huge crashes. Now everything was quiet, and he was lying on something. There was something on top of him, too. It didn't feel like bedclothes. He opened his eyes again. He seemed to be lying in a hole in the floor, in - he peered around - what looked like an abandoned warehouse. There was a whole pile of rubble on top of his legs. It didn't hurt. Could this be another dream? No, it didn't feel like one - he felt decidedly uncomfortable this time. He sat up, and gingerly tried pulling his legs from under the masonry. Surprisingly, in spite of its evident weight, it moved easily and his legs came free. They were filthy, but there was no apparent damage, even to his pants. What sort of pants were they, anyway? They looked rather close-fitting and smooth, almost like tights. He brushed off some of the dust and peered closer in the dim light - bright blue tights. What on earth could he be wearing? He stood up and moved to where a street light cast a beam through a large hole in the wall, and inspected what he could see of his clothing. He appeared to be wearing a most outlandish outfit, in primary colours: blue tights and leotard, and red briefs worn, bizarrely, outside the leotard, with a yellow belt. There was a stylised "S" in red and yellow on his chest, and he had dark red boots. Tattered remnants of a red cloak hung from his shoulders, scorched and singed at the lower edges. Singed from the fire? No, the fire had been in his dream. But perhaps he was still dreaming after all. Surely no one in his right mind would wear something like this in real life, unless he was a circus performer. A squeaking noise intruded itself on his hearing. He had been aware of it for some time, slowly getting louder, and now it seemed to be approaching the building. Then he heard voices from outside. Not wishing to be observed in this strange getup until he had worked out what was going on, he headed swiftly away from the light. ***** Lois had used practically every back street in Metropolis to get away from the traffic jam. She had also run several red lights, and used the full force of her personality to induce other drivers to let her through. At last she was home. She ran up the steps and negotiated her apartment locks in record time. Inside, she switched the answering machine off and checked the message light - no messages. She dialled Jimmy's extension at the Planet, but got an engaged signal. At least he was following orders. Ten minutes later, Lois had showered and changed into her "street clothes": dark trousers, a bulky, nondescript shirt and tough, flat shoes. She dialled the Planet again, and this time Jimmy answered. "Jimmy! At last. What have you got for me?" "I've managed to track down a few reports. The witnesses all saw the shooting star over Hobbs Bay, and most of them think it crashed in Suicide Slum. I'm busy plotting the sightings on the map, to see if I can work out exactly where it landed." "That's great, Jimmy! Call me as soon as you've got a location. I'll grab a bite to eat, then I'll be ready to go." "Uh, Lois? You're not thinking of going to Suicide Slum on your own, are you? It could be dangerous." "Don't worry, Jimmy, I'm planning to take Clark with me. He should have shaken that headache by now. He likes playing the big, macho bodyguard." "Okay. I'll phone back in a few minutes." Lois hung up, and dialled Clark's home number. She listened to the insistent ringing tone with a faint frown. Clark wouldn't have been playing hooky, would he? Not today, of all days! No, he must have unplugged the phone to get some sleep. She was starving! She hadn't had a bite to eat all day - the tension had destroyed her appetite. Now it was back with a vengeance. She opened the fridge and grabbed a fat- free yoghurt, tucking into it while she sized up the options for a sandwich. As she decided on pastrami and cream cheese, the phone rang and she ran to get it. "I've got a pretty good location, Lois. It's in Suicide Slum, in the warehouse area. Do you want to write down some street names?" "Actually, Jimmy, I have a better idea. I haven't been able to get hold of Clark; he must be asleep. How do you feel about doing a little legwork for a change? You could bring your camera... okay, Jimmy, calm down! I'll take that as a 'yes.'" She laughed. "I'll be outside the Planet in ten minutes." Pausing only to dump the empty yoghurt carton and grab a jacket and a heavy flashlight, Lois was on her way. ***** The two men - vagrants, by the look of it - had investigated the hole in the wall and the hole in the floor, but had found nothing of value to interest them, and had pushed their squeaky shopping trolley away again. The man in the Spandex suit relaxed, and tried to work out what to do next. He needed to get home and change into normal clothes. Only, where was home? He didn't have the faintest idea. He could look up his name in the phone book... only he had no idea what his name was, either. And how could he get to a phone book without being spotted, anyway? Fear started to nibble at the edge of his thoughts. What *was* he going to do? What if he just stayed here until he remembered who he was, and where to go? It wasn't much of a plan, but he didn't see any real option. Besides, now that he thought about it, he was really tired. He sat down on the floor, in the corner furthest from the hole in the wall. He leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes. Just before he dozed off, it suddenly occurred to him that someone would come to help him soon. It was a comforting thought, calming his fears, and he smiled as he drifted off to sleep. ***** "It must be somewhere around here, Lois. We should be able to see something soon. At least this part of the Slum still has street lights." Lois drove slowly down the street, butterflies dancing in her stomach. All her instincts were telling her that what she was looking for was close by. A couple of hundred yards further on, Jimmy let out a whoop. "That's it, Lois! That's got to be it! See the hole in the warehouse wall?" She pulled the Jeep to the kerb and jumped out, hoping the car would still be there - and intact - when they returned. She followed Jimmy to the hole in the wall. The missing masonry was scattered on the floor inside the warehouse, half filling a crater some yards away. As Lois put her hand on the edge of the hole to steady herself, another brick crumbled and fell. "It looks like you're right, Jimmy. This is recent enough. Whatever caused this must be in that hole in the floor." She picked her way across the rubble, hoping that the impact hadn't weakened the warehouse roof. Jimmy was already busy taking pictures of the scene. Lois stopped at the edge of the crater and switched on her flashlight, playing the beam over the hole. "There's nothing in here except more rubble. Nothing big enough to have caused this damage." A bubble of excitement was rising in her chest, and she had to clear her throat. "Jimmy - whatever landed here has moved. Do - do you think it could be him?" "It could be. But you know what Perry would say - we need proof. Are you sure there's nothing in that hole?" Lois stepped down gingerly into the hole and crouched, scanning back and forth with the flashlight beam. At first she could see nothing, but when she brushed away some of the dust a flash of red caught her eye. There was some cloth caught among the broken bricks. "Jimmy, give me a hand here!" Jimmy took some quick shots of the pile of debris, then crouched down and helped her to shift some of the pieces of rubble, freeing the strip of red material. It was tattered and scorched, but... "It's from his cloak. He made it back!" The two reporters turned to look out of the warehouse, through the hole in the wall. There was a billboard advertising Metro Trains on the other side of the street, still proudly proclaiming "Faster than a speeding bullet", but now it had a hole punched through the middle. Jimmy grinned. "I have to go get some pictures of that, Lois! I'll be right back." ***** He could hear voices in his dream. The woman's voice was familiar, and very dear. He smiled as her face formed in his mind. Shiny dark hair, dark eyes that could flash fire or melt your heart, a mouth that could be witheringly scornful, engagingly witty, or sweetly kissable. He frowned slightly. What did that mean? Was she his wife? His girlfriend? He loved her, but there were also troubled feelings associated with her - anxiety, possibly even guilt. If she was his wife, then he must have been unfaithful. No, that was ludicrous! He could never be unfaithful to Lois, not in a million years. "Jimmy, give me a hand here!" His eyes flew open. That was no dream, she was here. She had come to help him. He stood up slowly, searching for her in the gloom. Yes, there she was, crouched in the hole in the floor. But there was a young man with her - this Jimmy, presumably - and he was taking photographs. The man without a name glanced down at his filthy Spandex. He couldn't afford to be photographed like this! For that matter, what was Lois going to say when she saw him dressed like this? Was that what the anxiety and guilt was about? He stood indecisively for a few minutes, while the pair in the crater discussed something they had found in the rubble. Then they both looked out towards the street, and the young man scrambled out of the crater and picked his way back outside. Lois sat down on the edge of the crater and buried her face in her hands. It was now or never. He walked slowly towards the crater. His boot scraped on some of the rubble and Lois looked up, startled. She looked straight at him, and turned as white as a sheet. He hesitated; this was obviously going to be pretty bad. She looked away again, without speaking. He walked a few paces nearer. "Lois?" ***** As Jimmy went outside, Lois sank down on the edge of the crater, covering her face with her hands as tears of relief pricked at the corners of her eyes. He had made it back. There was no blood, no body; he had left, presumably under his own steam. He must be all right. And - she smiled - what a story it was going to make! Something moved in the darkness of the warehouse. Lois looked up, startled. She couldn't see anything. The next moment she cursed herself, as her overactive imagination contemplated being alone in the darkness with a rat, and for the second time that day she thought she was going to faint. It was a relief when a human form took shape in the gloom, and a voice spoke in familiar tones. "Lois?" "Clark? How did you..." Belatedly, she remembered her flashlight, and swung it up. "Superman!" He looked terrible. From the waist down, he was covered in dust. More than half his cloak was gone, the edges scorched and singed. His face was clean enough, but pale, and his normally smooth hair was rumpled. Most striking of all, there was no trace of his normal stern, impassive expression; he looked worried and confused. "Superman, are you all right? When your mike went out, we thought - we were afraid you were dead! Are you okay?" The worry receded, but the confusion deepened. "I - I don't know." "What do you mean, you don't know? Are you hurt?" "I don't think so. I feel all right. But I don't..." His eyes met hers, and it came out in a rush, "I can't remember anything." She leapt to her feet, surprise warring with concern. "We have to get you to a hospital!" She scrambled out of the crater and turned towards the street, drawing a breath to call for Jimmy. In two strides he was at her side, gripping her arm and whirling her round to face him. "No! No hospitals! They - they'll dissect me like a frog!" She winced at the pressure of his fingers on her arm, and he dropped it and drew back slightly, his eyes still pleading with hers. In the light from the street lamps, she could see panic in his eyes. She rubbed her arm thoughtfully. "I guess a hospital isn't going to be able to help you much, anyway. So what are you going to do?" "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry." He looked ruefully at her arm. "I don't know what to do, Lois. I need to go home and get out of these..." he glanced down with a grimace, "... clothes. But I don't know where home is. I thought you could tell me." She was silent for a long moment, letting that sink in. "You mean, you really don't remember anything? Anything at all? But why do you think I can help you? Do you remember anything about me?" "I recognised your voice and your face. I know I..." he hesitated, and took the safer option, "know you, but I don't know who you are." "And you don't seem to know your own strength, either," she said with a hint of a smile. Evidently his answer had been acceptable. She pondered for a minute. "Well, first we have to get you out of here. I think we'd better take you to Clark's place. He'll know what to do." Before he could ask, they heard a call from the street. "Lois, are you okay in there?" Lois frowned. "Jimmy! He'd better not know about this. I'll think of something to tell him. But you'd better not look so worried - do your hero pose." "Hero pose?" he echoed, baffled, and she sighed. "You fold your arms and stand with your feet apart like this, and look noble and forbidding. It's very impressive. Try it." He did as instructed, and immediately - perhaps automatically - his face took on Superman's habitual stern expression. "That's it. Your hair's a bit of a mess, though. Jimmy's going to want photographs for the paper. Here..." She dived into a jacket pocket, and came up with a comb. "Comb it straight back. Hurry." Jimmy's footsteps were approaching now. Superman quickly followed instructions and handed the comb back, feeling like a gawky child about to be taken for class photographs. He folded his arms again, noticing how the "hero pose" instantly lent him a feeling of security. Jimmy scrambled through the gap in the wall and paused to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light. "Lois, we should go before someone steals your car... Superman! You're here! We thought you had left! Man, is it good to see you." He seized Superman's hand and pumped it fervently. "You did a great job today, we're all so grateful, but we were worried about you after your radio cut out." Superman had no idea what he was talking about, but a response seemed to be in order. "No problem, Jimmy." He wondered if he should say something more, but Lois cut in, and Jimmy finally released Superman's hand. "Jimmy, Superman was on his way to Clark's place to get cleaned up, but he was concerned about us being in the Slum at this time of night. I offered him a ride. We should get going." "Sure, Lois. But, Superman? Would you mind if I got some pictures first? This'll be such a scoop for the Planet!" "No, that's okay, Jimmy." Lois added, "Better stick to head and shoulders shots, though. We want 'Conquering Hero Returns', not 'Demolition Man'." Jimmy's eyebrows rose. It wasn't like Lois to pass up a newsworthy angle. But then, she had always been rather territorial about Superman. Safest not to argue. "You're the boss, Lois." He took half a dozen shots of Superman, including one in front of the "Faster than a speeding bullet" billboard, then they went back to the Jeep. Jimmy climbed into the back seat, but as Superman was about to get into the front, Lois stopped him. She was eyeing his filthy legs. "Superman, nothing personal, but could I ask you not to sit on my upholstery like that? I think I have a blanket to wrap around you." She retrieved the blanket from the back of the Jeep, and draped it round Superman's shoulders, muttering too softly for Jimmy to hear, "This should stop you being recognised." The drive to Clinton Avenue took only a few minutes. It was cold and starting to rain, and there were no passersby to gape at a dishevelled Superman climbing out of Lois's car. But once inside the building, they met their first setback: the apartment was in darkness, and Clark was not answering his door. Lois fretted and fumed for a few minutes, hammering on the door at frequent intervals, and then turned to Jimmy with an air of decision. "We'll pick the lock." Superman shifted uncomfortably behind her. "Lois, I really don't think..." She turned and frowned at him, adopting an airy tone for Jimmy's benefit. "Oh, I'm sure Clark won't mind, Superman. He must just have popped out for some bread, or aspirin, or something." She turned back to Jimmy. "Come on, Jimmy. If you won't do it, I will!" Jimmy blushed and looked uncertainly at Superman, then took a piece of wire from his pocket and crouched in front of the door. After few seconds of fiddling there was a click, and the door swung open. "Good, it wasn't bolted." Lois snorted. "Clark doesn't even have a bolt on his door. He doesn't think he needs security." She walked through the door, flicking the light on, and called, "Clark! ... Clark?" She turned back to the others. "He's definitely not here." She gazed at Jimmy briefly, wheels visibly turning in her brain. For a moment Jimmy had the unnerving, though not unfamiliar, sensation of being an insect caught in the path of a rapidly advancing windshield. "Jimmy, Perry's going to want those photos for the morning edition. I was going to run you over to the Planet and write up the story, but I think I'd better stay here with Superman until Clark gets back, and explain that picking the lock was my idea. Can you get to the Planet on your own? I could call a cab." Jimmy smiled thankfully at the paper-thin excuse; this time, all she wanted was to spend some extra time alone with Superman. "No problem, Lois, I'll take the subway." "I can write up the story on Clark's computer and e-mail it to Perry," she continued. "Tell him I'll have it there by..." She checked her watch. "...eight. You'd better get going if you're going to have those photos ready." "Okay, see you in the morning. Superman, bye, and thanks again." Jimmy waved and disappeared. Lois leaned back against the banisters, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, I think we passed that with flying colours. Come on in, Superman. You probably want to get showered right away, and I have an article to write. I'm sure you can borrow some of Clark's clothes, that's if you can find some that fit." She eyed Superman's muscular torso covertly as he passed her; as usual, his proximity was making her a trifle light-headed. She closed the door behind him and led the way down to the living room, still babbling. "I wonder when Clark will be home. He went home sick this morning, you know -" "Lois." "- with a headache, so I'm sure he can't ..." She turned. Superman had sat down heavily on the top step, the confusion once again evident in his face. "Yes, what?" "I'll take a shower in a minute, but there are some things I'd really like to know first." "Well, I'll tell you anything I can. What do you need to know?" "What's my name? And what's this Superman thing all about?" He looked dubiously at his suit. "Am I a wrestler, or some sort of circus act, or what?" ***** - Chapter 2 : Revelation - Lois looked at Superman in dismay. It just kept getting worse. Not only had he forgotten who he was, he had also forgotten *what* he was. No wonder he was confused. "No, nothing like that. The costume is a bit... unusual, isn't it?" She smiled reassuringly. "You're a - well, a superhero." His brow furrowed. "Like in the Batman comics? You mean, I'm a movie actor or something?" "No, no! You're a *real* superhero. With superpowers. You can fly, and you're very strong, and nothing can hurt you. That sort of superhero. Superman." He stared at her blankly for a few moments. He couldn't quite believe he was having this conversation. She didn't really expect him to swallow all this, did she? "Nothing can hurt me?" "No." "And I can fly?" "That's right." She smiled encouragingly. He misinterpreted the smile, and his heart fell at the thought that she was treating his condition so lightly. "Lois, quit fooling around. No one can fly." The smile vanished. "No one else can, Superman, but *you* can. You're special... different! You have to believe me!" He studied her face carefully. She was totally in earnest. She really did expect him to believe it. His heart rose a little, but at the same time his feeling of unease increased. He didn't want to be different. He rose to his feet and began to pace. "What does this superhero do, then? Do I solve crimes and bring the criminals to justice?" "No, not exactly. You rescue people in danger and put out fires and help clean up after earthquakes and things. You stop muggers and bank robbers too, but mostly you help people. That's what you said when you first arrived, that you're here to help." "Arrived where? And where did I come from?" As Superman paced, his abbreviated cape swirled about the small of his back. Watching him, Lois was getting an unusually uninterrupted view of the Man of Steel's legs... not to mention the rear of those red shorts. The effect was definitely pleasing to the eye. Lois found herself getting rather warm. Realising she was still wearing her outdoor jacket, she slipped it off and turned to lay it over the back of Clark's couch, making a concerted effort to focus her mind on the conversation. "You come from another planet, called Krypton. You arrived in Metropolis about six months ago." "So there's a human colony on Krypton? Do they all have these whatchacallum, these superpowers?" "No, it's not an Earth colony. You're not human." He whipped round to stare at her. His face had gone chalk- white. Lois gazed at him, wide-eyed. Why should that come as such a surprise to him? Then his eyes narrowed, and his face began to regain some colour. "You've been watching too many late-night movies, Lois. I'm just as human as you. Look at me!" He spread his arms wide. "Do I look like an alien from outer space?" He was watching her carefully, as though she might suddenly do something dangerous. She planted her fists on her hips and glared at him. "Dammit, Superman, I am *not* crazy, and I am *not* making it up! Will you just give me a bit of credit?" He reached out to grasp her shoulder gently, and said soothingly, "It's okay, Lois. Don't get excited. Why don't we sit down and talk about it calmly and quietly?" Lois closed her eyes and started to count. She had just had one of the worst days of her entire life, she was tired and hungry, and now Superman was refusing to take her seriously. At three, she gave up and recklessly abandoned the last shreds of her temper. "All right, if you won't believe me, let's see if you believe this!" she yelled, batting his hand away from her shoulder and stalking towards the kitchen. He followed her, torn between fears for his own safety and for hers. She flipped on the kitchen light, jerked open a drawer and rummaged through the contents. Then she turned towards him triumphantly, brandishing a very large, very lethal-looking kitchen knife. "Let's see how much damage this can do to you!" she exclaimed, and lunged towards his arm. Even as she lunged, Lois had a sudden, terrifying vision of the knife actually plunging into Superman's arm. She tried to stop herself, but she had too much momentum. A split second later Superman grabbed the knife, stopping it in mid-strike as though it had encountered a brick wall. Thrown off-balance, Lois felt his other arm catch her deftly about the shoulders. She held onto the knife for an instant longer, before he twisted it and tore it from her slackened grip. They stood frozen in a tableau for a long moment, as Superman braced himself for the anticipated struggle, and Lois's mind caught up with the last few seconds. Then Lois drew a long, shuddering breath, and subsided, trembling, against Superman's chest. "Oh, my God - I don't know what came over me! I've never tried to stab anyone before! I didn't mean you any harm - sometimes I just ..." "Jump in without checking the water level first?" suggested Superman drily, wondering what surprise this pint-sized tornado had in store for him next. He was rewarded with a watery chuckle. "Exactly... you are all right, aren't you?" She lifted her head to look for the knife, and gasped. Superman followed her gaze. The hilt of the knife was protruding from his fist; his fingers were clenched tightly around the blade. He blanched at the sight and turned his fist over, but there was no blood, and no pain either. He set Lois gently back on her feet, and stepped back. she thought. He took the knife handle in his right hand, and carefully unwrapped his fingers from around the blade. He inspected his fingers briefly; there was not a mark on them, which was more than could be said for the knife blade. It was twisted and buckled, and four deep indentations showed where his fingers had gripped the cutting edge. "I think you proved my point," Lois remarked, "but we owe Clark a new kitchen knife!" Her temptation to giggle fled as she registered Superman's expression. All traces of emotion had been wiped from his face, leaving the familiar, impassive mask. He studied the knife for a second longer before dropping it on the counter and turning to face her, drawing himself up into the classic Superman stance once again. "So, I am an alien," he conceded, his voice deep and emotionless. Lois winced. "You say that like it's a bad thing!" she exclaimed. "The entire world is busy counting its blessings right now, instead of preparing for doomsday - and it's all thanks to your special abilities. There was a huge asteroid heading straight for us, much bigger than the one that wiped out the dinosaurs. *You* did what no one else on Earth could do, and stopped it. You flew out into space and rammed into it, breaking it up into little pieces." She laid an imperious hand on his folded arms. "The entire world is in your debt, Superman, so don't even *think* about it being better if you were an ordinary human. Not to mention the half-a-dozen times you've saved my life in the last few months, and thousands of other people's!" She was glaring at him by this time, and he was smiling slightly, although his eyes were still guarded. "Half a dozen times? Surely that's an exaggeration?" he enquired. She blushed and looked down, running a hand through her hair. "Yes, well, no, I, uh..." she floundered. "Okay, I get into trouble a lot. I tend to jump in without checking the water level first," she concluded, her eyes daring him to laugh. "I'll take your word for it," he said solemnly. He leant back against the kitchen counter, growing more thoughtful. "This asteroid - that was what Jimmy was talking about? Is the threat over?" "I imagine so. The broadcast from EPRAD showed it breaking up into about a million fragments. I don't suppose you remember it?" He shook his head. "That's a real shame, because right now I ought to be interviewing you for my article in the Daily Planet. It would have been a big scoop." "I do actually remember something," he said slowly, thinking back. "Something from before I found myself in that warehouse. I thought it was a dream. I was out in space, looking towards the Earth, and I had to get back here. I don't remember anything about the asteroid, though. I'm sorry." "Oh, don't apologise!" she reassured him. "You were injured in the line of duty - it's hardly your fault! Can you remember anything else?" He pondered. "I could breathe while I was out there. Don't I need air - oxygen - to breathe?" She smiled. "You can hold your breath for about twenty minutes, I believe, but you do need oxygen. The EPRAD team gave you an oxygen tank to use on the mission. It must have survived the impact with the asteroid. Your radio didn't - EPRAD lost your signal when you hit. We... people thought you might have been killed." Her eyes were dark with remembered anguish. "But you came to find me," he said softly. "I owe you a debt too, Lois." He lifted a gentle hand to cup her cheek. The familiar gesture threatened to bring tears to her eyes. "So," he added, in a more cheerful tone, "I can fly, I'm invulnerable, and I'm very strong. Is that right?" He picked up the knife again and attempted to straighten the blade, but to no avail. Then he tested the point against his palm, pressing harder and harder. Lois winced, but the blade didn't break. "I don't seem to be able to use this special strength, except when I'm not thinking about it," he concluded. He discarded the knife again. "How do I fly? Do I flap my arms, or something?" "Most of the time you just ... levitate," Lois said thoughtfully. "When you take off, you often do this -" and she demonstrated with a fist in the air, "- but I don't know whether that's just for effect." Superman's eyebrows quirked at the last comment, but he didn't respond. Instead, he closed his eyes and concentrated on trying to levitate. Nothing. He tried it again with his eyes open, trying to visualise the room moving around him. "No go," he commented, unsure whether he was more disappointed or relieved. Lois pondered. "You can also do special things with your vision," she offered. "You can heat things up, and you can also see through things, like X-ray vision. I know," she cried, crossing the room and clicking the lights off. "Can you see anything?" "It's a bit dim and grey, like it was in the warehouse, but I can see clearly enough." "I can't see a thing," said Lois triumphantly. She flipped the lights on again. "So your night vision is still working." "Oh," said Superman, dubiously. "Oh!" he repeated with more animation, as things began to fall into place. He looked pensively at Lois. "I suppose you couldn't see anything in the warehouse, either? I wondered why you called me 'Clark'." Lois's brow furrowed as she thought back. "That's right, I couldn't see you until I used the flashlight," she agreed. "You sounded just like Clark when you first spoke. I was so thankful," she added. "When I first heard you moving, I thought it must be a rat. You were lucky I wasn't throwing stones at you!" He nodded. "That explains why you went pale when you looked up. I assumed you were aghast at the way I was dressed." "Oh, you always wear that uniform. Believe me, the emergency services breathe a sigh of relief when they see the red and blue show up!" He grimaced. "That's all very well, but why *tights*?" She smiled slowly. "They're not exactly the fashion statement of the year. But according to a magazine poll last month, 11 out of 12 American women voted you the present they'd most like to find in their Christmas stocking." She watched with amused interest as his face coloured. Then she let her gaze drift downwards. "The tights certainly don't hurt your... appeal any." He positively squirmed. The kitchen was starting to feel far too small for two people. He folded his arms again to help him maintain his composure. "Speaking of clothes, I really ought to get into something clean. I think I'll take that shower now." "Good idea. I need to start writing, too." She led the way out of the kitchen. "Clark's bedroom is through here, and there's the bathroom. I hope you can find some of Clark's clothes to fit you. He's not quite as well-built as you are." The memory of Clark's torso, on the day when she had caught him wearing only a towel, arose unbidden before her mind's eye, but she dismissed it hastily. Sure, Clark was in surprisingly good shape, especially considering his eating habits, but this *was* Superman. And anyway, Superman was taller. She was feeling slightly flushed again. "I'd better find you a towel." She disappeared, much to Superman's relief. For a minute it had seemed Lois's solicitousness was going to extend to picking out clothes for him. He opened Clark's closet and studied the contents, deciding that he liked Clark's taste in clothing better than his own, if his current costume was anything to go by. There were quite a few conservative business suits and dress shirts, but a rack of brightly- coloured ties hinted at a less conventional streak. He turned his attention to Clark's casual clothes and selected a pair of comfortably worn jeans, a T-shirt, some shorts and a pair of sport socks. He was pondering the question of shoes when Lois bustled back in. "I found a towel in the dryer," she said. "I imagine anything else you need will be..." Her voice trailed off. She was staring at Clark's bedside table. There, beside an alarm clock, a table lamp and a framed photograph of Clark's parents, lay a little pile of personal effects: a leather wallet, a watch, a set of keys and a pair of horn- rimmed glasses. Still staring at the table, Lois handed the towel blindly to Superman. She crossed the room and sank down on the bed, picking up the glasses. "Why would Clark go out without these?" she wondered aloud. She looked round. "And his bed doesn't look as if it's been slept in. Clark was supposed to be coming home to sleep off a headache this morning... and he was wearing these then." She shook her head and replaced the glasses. "Sometimes he's just so weird! He'll probably walk in in a minute and explain that he had to return a library book." She stood up briskly and pasted a smile on her face. "Go and get cleaned up. I've got to get that article in on time, or Perry will have my hide." She waved Superman in the direction of the bathroom, shooting a last puzzled glance at the bedside table before heading for the computer. As she switched on the laptop and waited for it to boot up, Lois heard the shower come on. It brought back the last time she had been in this apartment when Superman was in the shower. "Does the costume actually come off?" she had asked Clark, embarrassing both of them. Now her thoughts were once again assailed by images of Superman without the costume. "Concentrate on the story, Lois!" she admonished herself. "You have a deadline, remember?" ***** - Chapter 3 : Reflections - Superman had a little difficulty extracting himself from the suit. He finally worked out that the cape was held on with velcro, and that there was a zip down the back of the body. The bold colours were even more conspicuous in normal lighting. He eyed the cape grimly; it was hardly fit to wear, but where and when was he going to be able to get another? Not that he was all that fond of capes, but the close-fitting suit seemed positively embarrassing without it. He tossed the cape into Clark's laundry hamper with the rest of the filthy garments, noting in passing that his taste in underwear seemed to coincide with Clark's, and turned his attention to the shower. The warm water sluicing over him removed the last of the grime, and relieved much of the tension in his neck and shoulders, but it did little for the confusion clouding his mind. He was starting to build up a picture of himself from what Lois had told him; but while the person who emerged seemed admirable, in a rather exaggerated, theatrical fashion, there didn't seem to be much about him to *like*. Moreover, he couldn't fathom the nature of his relationship with Lois. His feelings for her had seemed absolute and unshakeable at first. He frowned at that thought: no, his feelings still were absolute and unshakeable. But nothing that Lois had done or said seemed to provide any basis for those feelings. If he had known her for months, why hadn't he swept her off her feet long ago? Was she in love with someone else - Clark, perhaps? She wasn't wearing an engagement ring, and she didn't have a key to Clark's apartment; but she had turned to him naturally in a crisis. And she seemed to have few reservations about making use of his things. Though, to be sure, it would take a resolute man to stand up to Lois once she got the bit between her teeth. He stepped out of the shower and dried himself. He was relieved to find that the clothes he had picked at random fitted him comfortably. He wouldn't have to spend time searching for a better fit. He towelled his hair dry, and inspected himself critically in the mirror. Worried, dark brown eyes gazed back at him. Broad cheekbones and an olive complexion lent him a faintly exotic look. Dark, strongly-marked brows and a firm jaw gave him an air of decision. He had an unremarkable nose and a wide mouth, and - he checked briefly - good teeth. He reflected that the last characteristic probably came with the invulnerability. His hair was thick and dark, cut fairly long, and still wild from the towel. He ran his fingers through it to restore some order, and it parted naturally on the left side. A stray lock of hair insisted on falling forward over his right eyebrow. He picked up Clark's comb and combed his hair straight backwards, as Lois had directed him earlier. The resulting effect was clean-cut, but on the whole he thought he preferred the more natural style. He shrugged, and left the sanctuary of the bathroom. From the bedroom, he could hear Lois typing rapidly at Clark's computer. Loath to disturb her, he stood looking about the room, wondering about its owner. The furnishings were simple, but the patterned fabrics and the bold colours on the walls bespoke a less than conventional personality. On an impulse, he picked up Clark's glasses and tried them on, studying the effect in the mirror in a corner of the room. He was a little surprised to note that he could see just as well with them as without; his eyes must be able to adjust automatically for the prescription lenses. More surprising still was the effect on his appearance. The glasses hid his eyebrows and diminished the breadth of his jaw, making him look less forceful, more approachable; almost a different person. The computer keyboard had fallen silent. Superman hastily removed the glasses and replaced them on the bedside table, then walked through to the living room. Lois was sitting at the dining table, a pencil clenched between her teeth, scowling at her computer screen. She ignored Superman's approach, and he continued examining his surroundings with interest. The room displayed the same blend of simplicity and individuality as Clark's bedroom and wardrobe. There were a number of ornaments from exotic locations - a wooden African spirit mask, a Maori greenstone tiki, a Bornean fertility statue. If Clark had collected them himself, he must be something of a traveller. He also had a small but comprehensive collection of books, ranging from A. A. Milne to John Steinbeck, and from Carl Jung to Stephen Hawking. Superman picked up the obviously long-treasured copy of "Now We Are Six", and opened it. The flyleaf was inscribed, "To Clark, who is as clever as clever. With love from Mom and Dad. February 1972." The next volume, Bill Bryson's "Mother Tongue", was simply marked "Clark Kent" in a firm script. As he replaced it, some foreign lettering caught his eye: Kahlil Gibran's "The Prophet" was labelled in Arabic. He picked it up and read a few sentences at random, confirming that the entire volume was printed in Arabic. And if its well-thumbed condition was anything to go by, Clark had read it repeatedly. The same was true of the slim volume next to it: Miyamoto Musashi's "Book of Five Rings", printed in Kanji. In addition to being well-travelled and well-read, Clark was evidently impressively well-educated. Superman wondered briefly whether Clark had any weak points at all. a little voice in the back of his mind suggested. He frowned and dismissed the uncharitable thought. Lois had resumed typing. Superman crossed the room to stand behind her. It seemed entirely natural to bend down, resting a hand on the arm of her chair, and read what she had written. It was very good, he thought to himself, ignoring her slight stiffening. "Meteorite," he said, helpfully. "I beg your pardon?" Lois said, with a slightly acid edge. Superman pointed to the screen. "You called it - me - a meteor, but you said it had landed. Once it lands, it's called a meteorite." Lois seethed. Reading an unfinished story over her shoulder was bad enough, but this was too much. "Listen, big guy," she retorted, shutting the laptop screen with a snap, "no one except Kent edits my copy - and even he doesn't do it lightly!" She twisted in her chair to look him in the eye. "Why don't you let me do my job, and find something else to do in the meantime?" As she paused to take a breath, Lois caught his newly-showered fragrance, and her heart skipped a beat. This was *Superman* standing behind her, his face only inches from hers. "That is, if you don't mind?" she finished, in distinctly breathless tones. Superman stood up and retreated a pace, jolted both by the unexpected rebuff and by Lois's lightning changes of mood. "I'm sorry," he said stiffly, his expression shuttered. "I guess I could make some tea." Lois's eyes widened at the unfamiliar concept of Superman doing domestic chores. "Thanks, that would be great!" she enthused. As he turned and walked towards the stove, Lois closed her eyes and mentally shook herself. Something about Superman's expression was tugging at her memory. She let her mind drift back - yes, she had seen that set expression on his face once before. It had been shortly after he had arrived in Metropolis, and he had just come out of a building where a bomb had gone off. Minutes later, Lois and Clark had listened in mounting horror as the police explosives expert had informed them that the bomb had been a trap set for Superman. Lois opened the laptop again and looked briefly over her story. Yes, she had made the right decision. She quickly amended the word "meteor" to "meteorite", glancing over at Superman to see whether he had noticed. He was crouched in front of Clark's kitchen cabinets, apparently searching for a kettle. Lois made a mental note to thank Clark for concealing it so well, because it was giving her a fabulous opportunity to admire the way Superman looked in civilian clothing, without being observed. The soft denim hugged his slim hips lovingly and the T-shirt, while not as tight as she would have expected, still displayed his broad shoulders and strong arms to admiration. She had to admit that the Man of Steel looked considerably less striking out of his Spandex, but he still cut an extremely attractive figure, worth a second look from any red-blooded woman. she mused dreamily. Superman finally located the kettle and stood up, crossing to the sink to fill it. Lois hastily withdrew her gaze and fixed her eyes on her computer, her cheeks rather pink. She forced herself to focus her mind on her article once more. Superman's hunt for mugs and herbal tea leaves was a good deal shorter, but by the time the tea was ready, Lois was fully absorbed in her writing and barely accorded him a muttered "thank you" as he set the steaming mug down next to her. He hovered for a second and then went to sit down on the couch. He cupped his hands around his tea, and sipped it. He could feel the heat, but it didn't hurt him at all. He looked at Lois over the rim of the mug. Her pencil was tucked behind her ear now, and she was frowning at the screen in concentration. It seemed a familiar picture, but judging from Lois's irate response to his well-meaning interference, he didn't often get a chance to see her at work. Another mystery. It occurred to him that he was staring at her like a lovestruck teenager, and he switched the television on, turning the sound down to avoid disturbing Lois's concentration. A few minutes later Lois hit the "send" button and sat back in her chair, satisfied. She picked up her mug of tea, no longer steaming but still pleasantly warm, and looked around for Superman. He was sitting in front of Clark's television set, watching a news special on the Nightfall Asteroid. He was wearing an expression of mild disgust, with a hint of embarrassment. Her curiosity piqued, she went to stand beside him. They were running the footage of his departure from EPRAD, and he was being shown talking to Lois. As she watched, her screen counterpart gripped Superman's arm and pressed a kiss on his reluctant lips. It was Lois's turn to look embarrassed. She took a sip of her tea, and grimaced. "This could do with some sweetener," she muttered. "I don't suppose Clark has anything but sugar." Superman looked up. "There's some honey," he offered, starting to get up. "It's okay, I'll get it. You keep watching... it might jog your memory." "It's in the left-hand cupboard, next to the stove," he said, as he subsided back onto the couch and returned his attention to the screen. Lois opened the cupboard and rummaged among the contents. Sure enough, at the back was a jar of liquid honey. She added a spoonful to her tea and returned to the computer. She plugged the modem in and connected it to the phone jack, then ran the application to dial up Clark's ISP. While the email was being transferred, she pulled up a browser window and pointed it to a search engine. Time to do a little medical research. Twenty minutes later, Lois had found enough material to go on with. She disconnected the computer, stood up and stretched. Superman was still watching the news special, which was concluding with archive footage of various Superman exploits from the previous year. He had the same mildly disgusted expression she had seen on his face earlier. As she went over to sit on the couch beside him, the programme ended and he switched the set off. "You seem less than delighted by your television coverage," remarked Lois, amused. "It's a bit disconcerting to discover that you're a media celebrity," he replied slowly. "Especially one that comes across like a muscle-bound cartoon character." "What do you mean?" Lois asked, looking at him oddly. She was surprised to find that she felt slightly offended by the comment. "Well, take that appearance at EPRAD today," he said, gazing abstractedly at the blank television screen. "I can see what you meant about my gestures being 'for effect.' They all seem very theatrical, like my costume. And everything I said seems so... so totally unimaginative. It's as though I were playing a part." A horrid thought struck him, and he turned to look at her. "Lois, this is all off the record, isn't it?" She gaped at him, struck to the quick. "Of course it is, Superman! Are you implying that I'd take advantage of your weakness, just to... to print some nasty gutter-press gossip article?" Her eyes flashed fire. He closed his eyes and ran one finger up the bridge of his nose in a gesture that struck Lois as incongruous, and yet oddly familiar. "I'm sorry, Lois. I don't know what to think. This is all so confusing." He sighed, and met her eyes. "I don't even know what sort of a relationship we have. Are we... close?" Lois knew he was thinking about the kiss he had just seen broadcast on a national news network. For a wild moment she toyed with the idea of saying "Yes, we're very close indeed," and flinging herself into his arms. He would kiss her passionately, the way he had once before, and this time they would... float off into the sunset together? She grimaced as her imagination failed her. Then it presented a different picture altogether: Superman looking at her in disgust when he realised she had deceived him, the way he sometimes looked at a criminal he had just apprehended. Superman never lied, and right now what he needed most from her was support and honesty. "No, we're not really close," she replied. Was that a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes? Surely not. "We're friends, I hope. You give me quite a few exclusives about your rescues, and you sometimes drop in at my apartment for a minute in the evening, when you're on patrol. You take me flying sometimes - I love that." She looked down at her hands. "You told me you loved me once, but that was only because you were under the influence of a love potion that a mad chemist was trying to spray all over Metropolis. You even kissed me." She swallowed, trying *not* to recall that kiss in too much detail just at the moment. "But you never mentioned it again, so it obviously wore off." She smiled brightly at him, trying not to look disappointed. "You've never told me very much about yourself, though. For all I know, you have a wife and five bouncing children." "No!" he exclaimed, startling her. "No, I'm not married," he repeated, less forcefully. The words, "I do love you, and I always will," hovered on the tip of his tongue, but doubts restrained him. Why had he never told her so before? He must have his reasons, and he needed to find out what they were before he said something he might have cause to regret. She was looking eagerly at him. When he didn't continue, she prompted him: "Are you starting to remember anything? Did the TV footage help?" He shook his head doubtfully. "Some of it sounded faintly familiar, as though it happened to someone else. It didn't seem like me. But I do know one or two things about myself, and I know I'm not married. I wish I could remember more about who I really am." Lois looked puzzled at this, but as she opened her mouth the phone began to ring. She grinned. "Excuse me. I think this is for me." She leaned over and picked up the phone. "Hello, Chief," she said. Perry's familiar Southern drawl responded. "You were expecting a call from your poor, long-suffering editor, then? Good, that'll make this easier. You know, Lois, I had Jimmy come in here an hour ago, walking on air because you and he got the scoop on Superman getting back safe from his mission today. He told me he left you with Superman at Clark's place, so naturally I assumed we were going to get the exclusive straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak. "Now, I've got your article right in front of me - and don't get me wrong, Lois, it's a very good article - but you know, when I look carefully I can't find a single detail in here that Jimmy didn't already tell me. So would you like to tell me what in the Sam Hill's going on?" "I didn't think it was going to fool you for long, Chief," she replied meekly. "What Jimmy doesn't know is that Superman didn't get back entirely safely today. He doesn't seem to be hurt, but he's got amnesia. He can't remember anything about the mission today - or much of anything else, either." She looked at Superman, who was looking alarmed at her words, and mouthed "It's okay" at him. Perry was making concerned noises. "That sounds pretty bad. Has he seen a doctor?" he enquired. "No, he... doesn't want to. I doubt any doctor's going to be able to help much, anyway. There aren't any experts in Kryptonian physiology that I know of. I've just finished reading up on amnesia on the web, and it looks as if his memory ought to come back on its own. He just needs some rest and some time in familiar surroundings, doing familiar things." "That sounds more encouraging. So tell me, how much space should I be keeping in the afternoon edition for this story?" Lois bit her lip, and took a deep breath. "Chief, we can't print it," she said firmly. "Great shades of Elvis! Has my top investigative reporter gone soft?" asked Perry, with deceptive mildness. "We're talking Kerth material here, Lois!" "I know, Chief. The thing is... do you remember just after Superman arrived in Metropolis, someone was setting up tests and traps for him? And you remember all the trouble we had with Bureau 39? Jason Trask may be dead, but someone just as bad will have taken his place. Once the criminals and the crazies know that Superman can be hurt, they're going to start going after him again. And even if they don't succeed, they don't care who they injure in the process. Superman risked everything for us today. I think he deserves a little protection in return!" she finished, defiantly. She met Superman's quizzical gaze, and blushed. There was a brief silence, then Perry chuckled. "Now that's something I never thought to hear - Lois Lane, hot-shot reporter, arguing herself out of a front-page story. Well, you've convinced me. I'll see you in the morning, then." "Wait, Chief... if Superman hasn't recovered his memory by tomorrow, I was wondering if I could take the day off -" "And spend it holding Superman's hand? Are you sure he wouldn't rather Clark played nursemaid? How is Clark, by the way?" "Well actually, Chief, we haven't seen Clark this evening. He seems to have gone out without his wallet or his keys, and we're a bit worried about him..." "Then how in tarnation did you get into his apartment? No, don't tell me, I don't want to know. Now listen, Lois, I don't want any argument. I can't afford to have both members of my best reporting team off duty at a time like this. EPRAD has announced a press conference at noon tomorrow, and I expect one of you to be covering it, even if you don't make it in to the office. Now, you do what you can for Superman, and give him my thanks and my best wishes." And Perry hung up. ***** - Chapter 4 : Three's a Crowd - Lois put the phone down. "That was Perry White, my editor at the Planet," she explained, and relayed his last words to Superman. "That was easier than I expected," she added. "I thought he would take a lot of persuading not to print the big story." Superman nodded. "Are there people constantly trying to kill me?" he enquired. The idea was distinctly unsettling. "We never found out who was setting traps for you," Lois replied. "Nobody's ever found a way to hurt you. They seemed to be trying to drive you away rather than kill you. The incidents stopped after you announced that you had come to Metropolis to stay." "Oh, so I live in the city? Not in a space ship somewhere? I should be going home, then, not trespassing on Clark's hospitality - especially when he's not here." "I don't know where you live, Superman. But you stayed here once before when you couldn't go home, so it counts as familiar surroundings for you. And I know Clark wouldn't mind." He looked unconvinced, but he didn't argue. "You said something on the phone about familiar surroundings. Will you tell me what you found out about amnesia?" "Yes, of course." Her voice took on a professional tone. "Amnesia is usually associated with head injuries, or with a traumatic event. You seem to have almost total amnesia about your identity and your past experiences, but you can remember everything that happened since the accident, which is a good sign. Can you remember the date?" "It's January 1994, but I don't know the exact date." She nodded, and asked a few more questions. He could remember general information such as the capital of France and the name of the President of America, but nothing of more personal significance. "It doesn't matter," she reassured him. "Unless you had serious brain damage, which you obviously haven't, your memory should return of its own accord within a day or two, at the most." she added privately, deciding not to voice that particular concern. "We can try to speed it up by establishing associations with past memories. That's why I thought the news footage might be a good idea. Familiar music and photographs, and of course people, can also help." He nodded slowly, taking it all in. "So what do you suggest I do?" "I'll tell you everything I can, and Clark will too, once he gets home. But the very first thing I suggest is something to eat. I'm starving!" Her stomach chose to underline this statement with a low growl, and she blushed. She got up from the couch and went over to the kitchen area. "I wonder if Clark has anything we can eat. Last time I looked, his kitchen was full of Twinkies and Ding-Dongs." She opened the fridge. "Plenty of milk - how does he get through that much? Eggs, cheese, cream... doesn't he even think about cholesterol? Some raw vegetables... ham... We might be able to make some sandwiches." She checked the bread bin. "No, no bread. What about something we can microwave?" She opened the freezer. "Lots of ice cream, but no frozen dinners. We'll just have to order take-out." She took two steps towards the phone, then stopped. "No, that's no good, either. I left my purse at home when I went out to the Slum." Superman cleared his throat. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, enjoying the miniature whirlwind effect Lois had been creating. "I might be able to help." Lois raised an eyebrow. "You mean, fly me over to my apartment to get some cash? I wish you could! But I don't think you'd better go anywhere dressed like that. You aren't instantly recognisable as Superman without the costume, but we shouldn't risk it." Superman looked faintly embarrassed. "No, what I meant was, I could cook something." After a moment Lois remembered to close her mouth. "I, uh, didn't realise you could cook," she said, feebly. "That would be very nice... if you're sure..." "It's good to know I can surprise you," Superman said, and grinned. Lois blinked; she had never seen him look so natural before. "I enjoy cooking, I think. It's relaxing." thought Lois. Somehow she found herself sitting at the table, as Superman gathered up some onions and garlic and located Clark's chopping board. "It's a good thing Clark has more than one knife," he remarked, as he closed the knife drawer. Despite the tease, he was looking serious again. "Would you mind answering some more questions while I work?" Lois pulled herself together. "Of course not. What do you want to know?" "Tell me about Clark," he requested. Lois was surprised again. "I didn't expect that to be your first question," she commented. "I'm standing in Clark's kitchen, cooking his food and wearing his clothes," Superman replied. "I feel I ought to know something about him." He started to chop the onions. Lois watched his hands moving confidently; he certainly seemed to know what he was doing. "Well, Clark's my partner," she began. The knife slipped, and sliced across Superman's fingers. Lois flinched and caught her breath involuntarily. "Ouch! Are you... of course you're all right," she tailed off. He checked his fingers cursorily, then tested the hapless knife on the onion. "I'm fine," he said, "but I've taken the edge off this knife." He pulled open the knife drawer and rummaged at the back, pulling out a whetstone. He closed the drawer and crossed to the sink, where he rinsed the knife and then ran some water over the stone. Standing with his back to Lois, he began to sharpen the knife with long, careful strokes. "You were telling me about Clark," he said. Lois had been gazing wide-eyed at this display of culinary proficiency. She had never seen a whetstone before, and certainly wouldn't have known how to use one. Once again, she collected her scattered thoughts. "Clark came to work at the Planet in about May last year. I thought he was just a small-town hack - Perry didn't even hire him at first. Then he came back with a mood piece he'd written, about an old theatre that was closing down. Such a nerve - Perry had given me that assignment, and Clark must have found out about it. The article was really good, though, and Perry hired him on the spot. Perry called it 'initiative'." Lois smiled wryly. "I was furious when he assigned Clark to work with me! That must have been shortly before you arrived in Metropolis, because it was the shuttle sabotage story we were working on. "Anyway, I soon realised that he wasn't quite the Mister Green Jeans that he looks. He grew up in Smallville, Kansas, but he did a lot of travelling after he graduated, and he speaks several languages. He even reads Chinese, for heaven's sake. And he's a good journalist." She hesitated; this honesty she had promised herself was going to be more difficult than she had thought. "Very good, in fact. Maybe even nearly as good as I am. Our styles complement each other very well." Superman had finished sharpening the knife, and chopping the onions. He found a large frying pan and melted some butter on the stove, adding the onions. Lois watched as he used a small implement to crush some cloves of garlic into the pan. "I bet you could do that with your bare hands," she remarked idly. He shrugged. "Maybe I could," he admitted, and shot another heart-stopping grin at her. "But what would people say when Superman arrived to rescue them with his hands covered in garlic?" She laughed. "You have a point," she conceded. "Mmm, that smells wonderful. Where was I?" "You were telling me what Clark is like to work with. What's he like as a person?" He turned his attention to slicing mushrooms. "He's... really difficult to pin down. You think you have him all figured out, and then he does something that really surprises you. He comes across like a wide-eyed country boy most of the time, but nothing seems to faze him. Heck, even I don't intimidate him, and everybody else I know has the sense to run scared when I'm in a temper. Clark just stands there and lets me shout at him and work it all off, and then he grins at me and goes and gets me some coffee. It's not that he lets me walk all over him, either. I did something really mean to him, back when he first arrived, and he got me back..." She hesitated, and decided to leave it at that. Being honest didn't necessarily require all the gory details. "But he didn't rub my nose in it, and he doesn't seem to feel the need to prove he's better than me, like most other men I've met. "And there's another thing. He's fairly attractive..." She lost another brief struggle with her conscience, "... very attractive, in fact. The gossip columnist from the Planet, who eats men like him whole, made a bee-line for him the moment she saw him. I thought he'd fallen for her, hook, line and sinker; but she's still all over him any time she gets a chance, so maybe he evaded her clutches after all." she thought to herself. The unconscious note of jealousy in Lois's voice hadn't escaped Superman's notice. What sort of relationship did Lois have with her lover - no, her "partner", he amended - if she was still feeling threatened by someone from Clark's past? The coil of jealousy growing in the pit of his stomach was joined by a thread of anger at the absent Clark. He glared at the ham he was now chopping. "Anyway," Lois continued, "most men who are that good- looking are really full of themselves, but not Clark. He doesn't do things to draw attention to himself. You could call him mild-mannered, I suppose. But he's fun to be with, and he's got a great sense of humour. He cares about people, too, and cares about trying to help them. "And then, just when you think he's safe and predictable, he goes and pulls some weird stunt, like this one today. He'll just disappear off the face of the earth, as though he never existed. And ten minutes later, or maybe six hours later, he'll come strolling casually in as though nothing has happened, and tell you he went to pick up his dry- cleaning, or he left something in his car, even though he doesn't have a car. It's so frustrating! I don't know why Perry puts up with it, but he never seems to call Clark on it." Superman added the ham to the frying pan, and stirred the mixture contemplatively. "When did you -" He found he couldn't say the words "fall in love with him." "- start seeing each other?" he finished. Lois looked bewildered. "Seeing each other? We don't... we aren't... we're just friends," she stammered. It was Superman's turn to look surprised. "But you said you were partners?" "Oh! Not that sort of partner - working together partners. We investigate our stories and write them up together. We don't have any... romantic attachment." "Oh." That explained quite a few things which had been troubling him. He couldn't resist probing the hurt, though, like a child worrying a loose tooth. "Why not? You obviously like him a lot. Are you saying there's no romantic feeling there at all?" Even as Lois drew a breath to deliver a vehement denial, she was assailed by the memory of that kiss in the honeymoon suite at the Lexor Hotel. She had been startled when Clark had unceremoniously scooped her onto the bed and started kissing her, but within a few seconds she had been grappling with very different feelings. The sound of the maid entering the bedroom had come in time to prevent her losing her head completely, but even so she had returned the kiss with rather more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary. And when the maid had left and Clark had abruptly released her, evidently expecting her to let rip at him, all her shaken mind had come up with was a feeble complaint that the maid hadn't knocked. Lois realised that Superman was still waiting for an answer. Honesty, she reminded herself. "I don't really know," she said slowly. She looked down at the tablecloth. "It hasn't exactly come up. Well, I suppose it did once, actually. You remember I mentioned that love potion? Miranda squirted it all over the Planet newsroom, and everyone who was sprayed lost all their inhibitions. Well, I got some, and so did Clark. I spent the next two days fawning all over him." Her cheeks were burning, and she put her hands over them. "He was a perfect gentleman the whole time; he fended me off gently but very effectively. So, to answer your question... I guess I am attracted to him to some extent - but he isn't attracted to me." There was a silence, as Superman searched vainly for something to say to ease Lois's embarrassment. He concentrated on adding pasta shells to the pot of bubbling water on the stove, giving her time to recover her dignity. After a few moments Lois shrugged, and forced her voice to a matter-of-fact tone. "But it's probably just as well. Office romances are always a disaster. I had one once, years ago; it ended badly, and it made work hell for both of us for months, until he left to go to another paper. I swore I'd never do anything like that again. Clark and I are friends, and very good partners. It would be stupid to throw that away for a superficial fling." She studied the tablecloth, refusing to meet Superman's eyes. "Not all romances are a disaster, Lois. Sometimes people do fall in love and live happily ever after. You sound as though you're not prepared to take a chance to find out if it could happen to you." "I know more about the other kind of relationship. My father just walked out on my mother one day, and never came back. It nearly destroyed her." She traced the pattern on the tablecloth with one finger. "Anyway, I don't think I'm good happy-ever-after material. I'm an ambitious career woman - I'm better at trampling on men's egos than at stroking them. I can't even cook!" Superman put a lid on the pasta pot, and turned down the heat. "Cooking is overrated," he said, crossing to the table and sitting down opposite her. He stilled her restless fingers with one hand, and gently lifted her chin with the other until she met his eyes. "You're a very attractive woman, Lois. You're beautiful, and brilliant, and brave. Any man who can't see that must be blind. And any man who feels threatened by it doesn't deserve you." Tears were pricking at her eyelids, and she blinked them away. She could see the total sincerity in his eyes, and it awed her. "If someone had asked me a year ago, I'd have said I didn't believe in happy endings," she said huskily, and smiled tentatively. "But then, a year ago I didn't believe in men who could fly, either. I guess life can surprise you." She looked down at their linked hands on the table. "That's another reason it wouldn't work out with Clark," she said hesitantly. "The feelings I have for you. Ever since the first day I met you - when you saved my life by *eating* a bomb, of all things - I've felt... as if we were connected. As if there's something special between us." "I know you're special to me, Lois," he responded, but his eyes were guarded again. "You're the only person I can remember anything about right now. And back at the warehouse, when I didn't know what to do, I knew you would come and rescue me." He looked down at their hands. He seemed to be hesitating over what to say, and Lois's heart sank. He was trying to work out how to let her down gently. The sudden sound of the telephone ringing startled them both. Lois pulled her hand free, and got to her feet. "I'd better answer that," she said unnecessarily. By the time she returned, Superman was putting the finishing touches to two plates of mouth-watering pasta. He had also had time to remind himself of all the reasons why starting anything with Lois could prove disastrous. Not least among those was the reflection that, if it turned out he wasn't able to follow through a relationship with her for some reason beyond his control, her already low self- confidence would be shattered. To his relief, she didn't seem about to pick up where they had left off. "That was Clark's mother," she announced in conversational tones, as she sat down. "She seemed rather upset to hear that he wasn't at home. I do hope nothing's happened to him... Anyway, she said she had phoned to ask him if he had any news of you, so I told her you were here. She was very pleased, and sent her good wishes." Lois frowned slightly. "I hope she won't say anything to anyone before tomorrow morning, or we could lose our scoop. But she must be used to that, with Clark." She lifted her fork, and dug into the pasta. "Mmm," she sighed, leaning back with her eyes closed to savour the first mouthful. "This is heavenly!" She opened her eyes and grinned. "You know, if someone had told me six hours ago that I'd be sitting here eating pasta cooked for me by Superman, I'd have called the funny farm. Why aren't you eating?" He said the first thing that came into his head. "Are Clark and his mother very close?" He started eating; she was right, it was pretty good. "I've only met his parents once. They seem like a very close family... Clark is an only child, you know. It's odd, though - we went to Smallville last fall for a story, and that's the only time I can remember him going home in, what, eight months? You'd think he'd take a weekend off occasionally to see them, or at least Thanksgiving and Christmas." She shook her head. "But we keep talking about Clark, and about me. You must be anxious to know more about yourself." "You're right, I do have a lot of questions. But from the sound of it, you won't be able to answer many of them. You never answered my first question." "What was that?" "What's my name?" Lois grimaced. "It's true, I don't know. I christened you 'Superman' in the first article I wrote about you, because of that 'S' on your costume, and you said it was a good enough name. You wouldn't answer most personal questions, so you have only yourself to blame." She glowered at him, and he smiled ruefully. "Still, you may as well ask me the rest of your questions. I might be able to help some." She attacked the pasta again, with gusto. "Okay. I was wondering if I have a family who would like to know that I got home safely. Have I ever even met my family? Did I grow up on Krypton and then come here, or was I brought up on a space ship on the way here? It could take years, even generations, to get from Krypton to Earth. I could even have been raised in... in a tank, or something." "You're right, those are tough questions," she admitted. "But I do know one answer. On the day I first met you, a little girl admired your costume, and you said your mother made it for you. So you must be in contact with your mother, or at least it can't be all that long since you've seen her." He closed his eyes in relief. At least he wasn't that alien. "I wish I could remember her." "You will, soon. Don't doubt it." She laid a reassuring hand on his arm, and after a moment he met her eyes, smiling his appreciation. The feel of his warm skin and the soft hair under her fingers threatened her fragile equilibrium, however, and she drew her hand away and picked up her fork again. They ate in silence for a while. Then Superman began to muse aloud. "If I was brought up by Kryptonians, I ought to be able to speak some Kryptonian language. I can speak a few languages..." He paused for a moment, evidently going through them in his head. "A *lot* of languages, in fact; but they're all from Earth. I can't remember any Kryptonian languages." He looked puzzled; then he shrugged. "Never mind. Here's a question you should be able to answer. Who pays me to do this Superman job?" Lois blinked. "Pays you?" she echoed. "Yes, I assume I'm employed by the police or someone." He looked at her in surprise. "Are you saying it's a volunteer effort - that I'm just a vigilante?" "I wouldn't have called you a vigilante! But you don't answer to anyone, or at least not that I'm aware of. You just... come and help when someone needs you." "But what do I live on? She regarded him blankly. "Come on, Lois, I must get money somehow. I've presumably got an apartment somewhere in Metropolis, and I have to eat, and buy Spandex outfits. How do I pay for all that? Do I have another job? I suppose saving people can't be a full-time occupation, so I must do something with myself the rest of the time." Lois finally got her voice working again. "You don't have to eat. But you like to." She stared at her plate. "This is really embarrassing. Not only do I not know the answers, but in all the time I've known you, I've never even thought of the questions. Some reporter!" she finished, chagrined. "I guess you just don't have what it takes -" he said, and she looked up open-mouthed, "- to be a dirt-digger," he finished, and grinned impishly at her outraged glare. "Come on, Lois, don't be so hard on yourself. In the normal way of things, I'm sure I'm really glad that you respect my privacy. I know you're a great reporter." She looked daggers at him for a moment longer, before her sense of humour got the better of her and she laughed. "See, your memory's coming back already." She polished off the last of her food, and pushed the empty plate away with a sigh. "What we really need is for Clark to come home," she said. "He'd probably be able to answer some of your questions." "Clark? Why would Clark know?" he asked, puzzled. "He doesn't talk about it, but he's obviously a close friend of yours. For one thing, he always seems to be able to get hold of you when someone wants to talk to you." "Clark is a *friend* of mine?" Superman was looking dumbfounded. Lois stared at him, perplexed. "Yes. Why is that such a surprise?" "Well, I... I can't remember a thing about him. You'd think I could remember him if he was such a close friend." He reflected briefly, then picked his words with care. "I've been... envying him, you know. He has all the things I'd like to have. Memories of his childhood, growing up in Kansas. Concerned parents calling him. A comfortable apartment, filled with treasures that he's collected all over the world. A good job with -" He smiled at her. " - a great partner. I wonder if he knows just how lucky he is." ***** - Chapter 5 : Phantoms - Superman swooped down to land on the stage in front of the cheering crowd. A handsome man in a business suit, whose welcoming smile didn't quite reach his eyes, stepped forward to shake hands with Superman and hand over a huge golden key. Then the businessman stepped forward to the microphone, and the crowd subsided. "Let the games begin," said the businessman. An eerie hush fell. Everyone was looking expectantly at Superman, but his prepared speech had vanished from his mind. The crowd began to shuffle closer, and hands reached out to clutch at his cape. He retreated a pace and the crowd muttered, the mood turning ugly, threatening. Superman turned and tried to lift off into the sky, but found he couldn't fly. The businessman stood looking at him with a mocking smile. Suddenly, pain lanced through Superman's fingers. He lifted his hand and found the golden key had turned a nauseous, glowing green. A sickening ache spread through his body. He fell to his knees, and the businessman roared with derisive laughter. The business suit turned into a military uniform and the man's features changed, becoming coarser. A feral gleam shone in his eyes. He lifted a revolver and shot Superman through the chest. Superman fell back into the crowd; hands reached for him and ripped at his costume, tearing it away to reveal nothing inside. Superman had disappeared. ***** Superman sat up abruptly, fighting to escape from the last lingering shreds of the nightmare. Slowly his breathing calmed and the peace of the apartment seeped in to soothe his fears. He lay back on the bed and reached out for his lost memories. He closed his eyes and tried to picture his mother. She was probably dark, like him. He tried to conjure up a comforting, beloved, dark-haired image... and found himself thinking of Lois. A wry smile curved his lips, and he held onto the image for a moment. In his vision his hand came up to cradle Lois's cheek, just as it had in the kitchen yesterday evening. Only now, he bent to brush his lips softly against hers, and then stood up. "Goodbye, Lois." His eyes flew open. Was that a genuine memory? It didn't seem to fit in with anything Lois had told him. He would have to remember to ask her about it. He closed his eyes and reached out again for his childhood. He tried to imagine being a small boy, waking in the morning, full of anticipation for the exciting day ahead - <-- He ran down the stairs and erupted into the kitchen, still buttoning his shirt. Mom was standing at the counter making pancakes, and there was a delicious smell of new bread in the air. "Mom, where's Dad? He said I could help him with the ploughing this morning!" "He's just gone out to see to the fence, honey, there's plenty of time..." But he was running again before she had finished. Dad was in the yard, fixing the fence where the wind had blown it loose. He had just put a nail in position and was reaching for his hammer. "Let me help, Dad!" he cried, and struck the nail with his fist, driving it deep into the wood. Dad stood up and grabbed his wrist, looking at him grimly. "How many times must I tell you not to do that, son?" he asked sternly. "If people find out about you, they'll put you in a laboratory and dissect you like a frog!" "Breakfast time, boys!" Mom called from the kitchen door. He trailed glumly behind Dad, wishing he could remember not to use his powers. As Dad got to the door, Mom reached out and gave him a swift hug, and they looked lovingly at each other for a moment in the warm Kansas sunlight. --> Superman opened his eyes and frowned. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, and reached for the photograph of Clark's parents on the bedside table. Sure enough, the faces matched those in his daydream. He wasn't recovering his memory; instead, his subconscious was building phantom memories around what he had heard about Clark's childhood. Superman's lips set grimly; he put the photograph down and dropped his face into his hands. Was he ever going to be a whole person again? After a minute, he got up and padded quietly through to the kitchen to get a drink. He splashed some water on his face and ran his wet hands through his hair to smooth it back, then filled a glass from the tap. Leaning against the counter to drink, he looked over to the couch. All he could see of Lois was a huddle of blankets and a tousled mop of dark hair. He smiled, remembering how she had been yawning by the time he had finished the washing up. She had refused to go home, insisting that he shouldn't be left alone; but she had also refused to take the bed, pointing out that she was much smaller than he was, and could sleep more easily on the couch. Superman reflected that it could have been awkward if Clark had come home in the middle of the night and found her in his bed. However, Clark was evidently still missing, although the sky was nearly light outside. The phone shrilled, startling him. He put the glass down quickly and strode over to answer it before it could wake Lois, but she was already stirring. "Hello, uh... Clark Kent's apartment." A woman's voice responded. "Clark, is that you, honey? We were worried when you didn't phone back last night..." "I'm afraid Clark isn't here right now," he replied, awkwardly. "Can I give him a message?" There was a pregnant pause, and then the woman spoke hesitantly. "Clark, what... is there someone there? Are you okay?" "I'm not... Clark is... I'm just a friend," he stammered, thoroughly confused. Lois sat up and reached a hand out for the phone, hissing at him, and he handed it over thankfully and retired to the kitchen in disarray. Lois spoke smoothly into the receiver. "This is Lois Lane, Clark's partner. Clark is out at the moment. Can I help you?" "Lois! This is Martha Kent. I was just... is Clark... who was that who answered the phone?" "That was Superman, Martha. We, uh, he stayed here last night. Clark isn't here at the moment. In fact, Martha, I'm really worried about him..." And somewhat to her own astonishment, Lois found herself pouring out the story of Clark's accident two days before, his headache the day before, and his disappearance without his personal belongings. Martha took the recitation surprisingly calmly. "I'm sure Clark is fine," she assured Lois. "But if you're really worried about him, why don't you ask Superman to look for him? I'm sure he could find Clark quickly enough." "He, uh, well, he can't..." Lois tailed off, thinking furiously. What possible excuse could she give for Superman's incapacity? And indeed, she had finally succeeded in alarming Martha. "Whatever do you mean?" demanded the older woman, her voice sharp with worry. "Is there something wrong with Superman? He didn't sound like himself when he answered the phone just now. Is he hurt?" There was an awkward pause. Lois briefly considered telling Martha that Superman had searched for Clark and failed to find him, but that would only serve to alarm her further. Lois sighed and spoke hesitantly. "Superman's not hurt, exactly. Martha, I probably oughtn't to be telling you this, because it could be dangerous for him if the wrong people found out... He has amnesia. He can't remember anything from before the accident, including how to use his special abilities." "Oh my, Lois," Martha exclaimed, clearly more shaken by this than by anything Lois had said about Clark. "What is he... what are you going to do?" Lois told Martha about bringing Superman to Clark's apartment, and the information she had managed to gather about amnesia. Martha was relieved to hear that Superman wouldn't need to consult a doctor, and thoroughly approved of Lois's plan to have him stay at Clark's place until his memory returned. She seemed a little surprised, though, when Lois expressed her hope that Clark would be able to tell Superman more about himself. It was almost as though she didn't know the two men were close friends - or perhaps she didn't think Lois knew. "I'm quite sure you don't need to worry about Clark," she said firmly, when Lois reiterated her concern about Clark's disappearance. "He was supposed to go out and see someone - an old friend - last night. They probably went on talking late, and Clark stayed over. You just stick to worrying about Superman. Clark will turn up soon enough." By the time Lois hung up, most of her anxiety had been assuaged. It was quite a relief to be able to share the tale with someone, she reflected, and she couldn't help remembering what Superman had said about how lucky Clark was. She couldn't have spoken to either of her own parents about her concerns, and if she had, she would never in a million years have got the kind of support that Martha had given her. Nevertheless, there had been an odd undertone to the conversation that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Her train of thought was interrupted by Superman coming through from the kitchen and handing her a cup of tea. It wasn't the strong cup of coffee she really needed to jolt her into life at this time of the morning, but not having to get up and get it herself more than made up for that. He had even remembered to put a spoonful of honey in hers this time. She wrapped her hands around the cup and smiled warmly at Superman. "Thanks." She got a small smile in return. "You're welcome," he said, dropping into the armchair. He was looking tired and strained, and he had a distinct five-o'clock shadow. He was wearing a pair of Clark's sleep shorts with last night's T- shirt. Trying not to stare at his muscular legs, Lois felt a warmth creeping over her that was not wholly due to the tea. Superman leaned back and stretched out his legs. "How did you sleep?" he enquired. "Okay, I guess." Actually, the narrowness of the couch and the unfamiliar noises in the apartment had kept her tossing and turning for much of the night, and she had a bit of a stiff neck, but she wasn't about to admit that. She ran a self-conscious hand through her hair. "And you?" "Quite well, thanks. I had some strange dreams." He paused, then veered off at an apparent tangent. "Do I know Clark's parents?" "I shouldn't think so. I don't think they've been to Metropolis since Clark moved here. I suppose you could have visited the farm with Clark." The phrase "take you home to meet his parents" flashed into Lois's mind, and she frowned. Where had *that* thought come from? Superman nodded. He was having difficulty concentrating on anything except the way Lois looked. Last night, dressed in bulky, nondescript street clothes, she had been attractive enough. This morning she was sitting up in her blanket, still sleep-tousled and wearing an over-large borrowed T- shirt and shorts, and she looked perfectly adorable. Superman was trying not to look her way, lest he give in to the temptation to go over to her, gather her into his arms, and kiss her into oblivion; but he could still see her in his mind's eye, and his resolution was being sorely tested. He drained his cup with sudden decision and stood up. "Why don't I get dressed, while you finish your tea in peace?" he suggested. "Then I'll make you some breakfast, if you like." Not waiting for a response, he vanished in the direction of the bathroom. Lois blinked. Everyone seemed to be behaving strangely this morning: first Martha, and now Superman. She snuggled back into her blanket and tried to make sense of their odd reactions, but found herself dozing over her tea instead. ***** By early afternoon, Lois had still had virtually no time to think. Days off were evidently overrated, she mused wryly, as she put the finishing touches to her hastily-written article on the EPRAD press conference and emailed it to Perry. She sat back in her chair and savoured another mouthful of strong Daily Planet newsroom coffee. Coffee and artificial sweetener had been at the top of her shopping list when she had sallied forth this morning. True to his word, Superman had cooked a delicious breakfast of bacon and cheese omelette, but it had left precious little food in Clark's kitchen. She had also needed to buy Superman something to shave with, because a search of Clark's bathroom had turned up nothing whatsoever in the way of shaving kit. The only convincing explanation appeared to be that Clark had taken it with him, although why he should do that and yet leave his toothbrush behind was yet another in the long list of puzzles that had surfaced in the last day. Lois frowned across at her partner's empty chair. She had still heard nothing from him; although when she had gone home to change into business clothes before the press conference she had discovered that she had left her answering machine turned off, and her cell phone battery was still flat, which could explain why he hadn't been able to reach her. It wouldn't have occurred to him to call his own apartment. But Lois was discovering that in addition to being puzzled and worried by Clark's disappearance, she was also quite simply missing her partner's cheerful presence. The news at the EPRAD conference, that a large chunk of the Nightfall Asteroid was set on a direct course for Metropolis, was extremely disquieting for someone who knew there was no guarantee that Superman would be able to help out this time. She would have given a lot just to be able to discuss the situation with Clark and get his creative input on how to solve the problem of restoring Superman's memory. Besides, although Superman had shown the occasional gleam of an unexpected sense of humour, on the whole he was worried and withdrawn; and although it was entirely understandable in the circumstances, Lois could have used a little of Clark's unfailing optimism and supportiveness. The door to Perry's office opened, and the editor leaned out. "Lois, my office, please." Lois got to her feet and drained the last of her coffee. "Coming, Chief!" As she walked into the office, Perry motioned her to a seat. He was looking grave. "This is bad news we got from EPRAD, Lois. How is Superman? Any better?" Lois shook her head. "He doesn't seem to be, Chief. I got him some press cuttings to read through this morning, and I called Jimmy and asked him to get together a tape of all the video footage he could lay his hands on. I'm hoping that'll trigger Superman's memory. I just wish Clark would turn up - I'm sure he knows more about Superman than we do." "I'm sorry, Lois, I thought you knew already, or I would have told you sooner," Perry said, looking uncomfortable. "Clark's mother called earlier. Clark went to visit some old family friends last night, and one of them had a heart attack while he was there. He's been at the hospital with the family, and he isn't going to be able to get away for a while." "He *what*?" exclaimed Lois indignantly, all her pent-up worry turning quickly to exasperation. "Didn't Martha tell him about Superman? He's a good deal more important right now than some... some sick person in a hospital! Where can I get hold of him? I'm going to give him a piece of my mind!" "Now, calm down, Lois," said Perry firmly. "Mrs. Kent didn't say what hospital they're at, and I'm sure Clark is doing his best in the circumstances. His parents are flying to Metropolis as soon as they can, and no doubt once they arrive he'll be able to come and talk to Superman. If you need some help looking after Superman in the meantime, I can tell Jimmy to give you a hand..." Lois brushed off the suggestion hastily. "No, no, Chief - I'll be fine on my own. It's no trouble at all." "Glad to hear it," Perry declared. "What are you waiting for, then? Remember, we're all depending on you." And he ushered Lois out of his office. Jimmy was nowhere to be seen, but Lois decided to wait for the video tape before she went back to Clark's apartment. It would give her a chance to sort through her thoughts a little. She went back to her desk, and started to make a list of odd things that needed explanation. First of all, she had noticed again this morning how very familiar Superman seemed to be with Clark's kitchen. He must spend a lot of time in Clark's apartment; and yet Clark never mentioned it. Then there was the fact that Superman couldn't remember anything about Clark. Could it be that there was something he didn't want to remember, that he was repressing? She had also noticed that Martha had seemed surprisingly concerned about Superman, as though she knew him well. Lois's eyes narrowed. Being able to fly to Smallville any time he liked would explain why Clark didn't need to take weekends off to see his parents. And that habit Clark had of disappearing at a moment's notice - Superman's schedule would no doubt be totally unpredictable. Finally, there was something which had puzzled Lois for a long time: everyone else that Miranda had sprayed with her perfume had fallen for *somebody*, but Clark alone had seemed completely unaffected. Lois sat back and looked at her list in dismay. All the evidence was pointing to a single conclusion. A bitter ache was settling around her heart, but she couldn't give way to her feelings; everyone was depending on her, even if most of them didn't know it. She had to face up to this bravely. When the crisis was past, when Superman was back to normal and the danger from the Nightfall Asteroid had been eliminated, she would be free to indulge her emotions. The question was, should she confront Superman with it? If he was suppressing this part of himself, it might be a terrible shock for him. On the other hand, he needed to know as much as possible about himself if he was going to get his memory back quickly. The Nightfall Asteroid was not going to wait. Lost in her dismal thoughts, Lois was almost shocked when Jimmy bounced into the newsroom, whistling cheerfully. He trotted over to Lois's desk and gave her a big grin. "Why the long face, Lois? You're not worrying about that old asteroid, are you? Superman will sort it out in no time!" Lois made an effort to shake off her gloom. "Oh, hi, Jimmy. No, it's nothing." "What have you got for me?" "I got the tape you asked for. All the TV news coverage of Superman I could lay my hands on. I went over to LNN to use their archives, and guess what?" Jimmy's grin became positively beatific. "I met their new assistant, and I asked her out, and she said yes! I've got a hot date tonight!" And he waved cheerily and trotted away again. "That's nice, Jimmy," Lois said lamely. She wanted to put her head down on her desk and howl. Instead, she carefully tore her list of clues into tiny pieces and dropped them into the bin. Then she put the video tape into her bag and headed for the lift. ***** - Chapter 6 : The Return of Superman - Superman was dozing in the sun on Clark's balcony when a familiar sound slowly penetrated his consciousness. Rhythmic and soothing, it would have been instantly recognisable among a thousand others. Lois's heartbeat. Reluctant to wake completely, Superman put his hands behind his head and stretched, arching his back. The heartbeat accelerated rapidly, then settled back to a new, faster rhythm. Superman opened his eyes. At once, the heartbeat faded and disappeared. Now, all he could hear was the usual background noise of the city: the distant hum of traffic, children playing in the alley, an advertising jingle from the landlord's television set. Superman sat up on the lounger and looked towards the apartment. Lois was standing inside, looking through the picture window. He smiled a greeting, and Lois lifted a hand in response. A flash of colour in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he suddenly remembered he had taken his shirt off to catch some extra sun. He picked up the shirt from where it was draped over the back of the lounger and shrugged it on, then retrieved Lois's scrapbook from the ground next to him and went inside. "Hi, Lois," he said, shutting the door. "How -" He completely forgot what he was going to say as he took in her appearance: tailored black jacket and crisp white shirt, short black skirt, and long, slender, nylon-clad legs. He dragged his gaze back to her face with an effort. "Wow. You look... Wow." "Thank you." Lois gave him a tight-lipped smile. A few hours before she would have been ecstatic at the compliment, and even now she had to fight against a traitorous weakness. "I can't quite believe you were sunbathing at this time of year. It can't be over forty outside! But I suppose that doesn't bother you." Superman's brows drew together. Judging from her clipped tones, Lois was pretty upset about something. Before he could formulate a response, however, she was speaking again, eyes fixed on his chin. "You haven't shaved. Is there a problem with the razor?" Superman looked guilty and embarrassed, like a small boy caught stealing apples. "Oh, that. I, uh, broke it." "Broke it?" "It wouldn't cut my stubble. The blade broke." "Oh." She grimaced. "I suppose we should have expected that. I wonder how you shave normally? I guess we'll have to wait till your memory comes back to find out." Her gaze dropped to the scrapbook in his hand. "Did the newspaper articles help at all?" He shrugged. "The stories all seemed familiar, as though I'd read the articles before. But they didn't trigger any memories. I can see what you mean about your and Clark's writing styles, though. His style is more emotional, yours is more logical and hard-hitting. The pieces you write together are brilliant." This conversation was rapidly getting to be too much for Lois. She turned away and started to fill the kettle. "I'm going to make some coffee, want some?" "Yes, thanks. Lois, are you okay? You seem upset." "No, I'm fine. I just had a bit of a tough day. I'll tell you about it later." She finished putting the kettle on and then walked over to where she'd left her bag on the coffee table. She fished the video tape out. "I got Jimmy to collect some of the news footage about you from the last year. Why don't you watch it while I make the coffee?" Superman would rather have found out what was bothering Lois, but she didn't seem in any mood to talk, so he sat down obediently in front of the television. He seemed unimpressed by the first few video clips, although Lois saw him wince at the explosion of the remote- controlled bomb. But when Lois brought the two mugs of coffee over and sat down in the armchair, Superman was sitting hunched forward with his eyes riveted on the screen. The clip was showing Superman receiving the key to the city of Metropolis. As it ended Superman picked up the remote to rewind a couple of minutes. "Lois, who's this guy who had the key before me?" "That's Lex Luthor," Lois answered, sipping cautiously at her coffee. "Do you remember him?" Superman shut off the tape and muted the television set. "Lex Luthor. Let's see: head of Luthor Industries, millionaire businessman, philanthropist and playboy - if I remember what I read in your scrapbook this morning?" Lois nodded. "That's right. What about him?" "He's your mystery crime boss." Lois nearly choked on her mouthful of coffee. She set the mug down carefully. "What do you mean by that?" "He's the one behind those time trials, with that woman 'falling' from the roof, and the bomb that was set as a trap for me. He's also behind most of the organised crime in the city." Lois shot to her feet. "But, Superman, he funds half the charities in Metropolis... and most of the research, too!" "I'm sure it comes in very handy for him, Lois. It keeps the press off his back, for a start." Lois winced. Clark had warned her against Luthor before, but she had always dismissed his words as blind prejudice. Could she have been the one who was blind? Of course, he hadn't actually said, 'Lex Luthor tried to kill Superman.' But would she have listened even if he had? "You can't remember anything else. What makes you think you're remembering this correctly?" "I remembered you as soon as I heard your voice, and I knew I could trust you. I'm just as certain about Luthor. I remembered as soon as I saw his face." Her eyes wavered, and she sighed. "Do you have any proof?" "If I had proof, I imagine I'd have done something about it before now. But there's no doubt in my mind." Lois nodded, and sank back into her chair. "Well, we'll have to get proof." She picked up her coffee again. "Is there anything else you want to set me straight about?" she enquired, with an acid edge. Superman eyed her cautiously. "Well, I had a dream last night," he said. "I'd forgotten about it until now. Luthor was in it, and so was someone else; and there was a glowing green substance, which made me weak and ill. It must have been that kryptonite you wrote the article about. It must be real." He picked up the scrapbook and flipped through it at a remarkable speed. "Here it is," he said. He peered closely at the grainy photograph of Jason Trask. "This looks like the guy. In my dream, he shot me." He looked at Lois, and was alarmed to see that she had buried her face in her hands. He dropped the scrapbook and leaned over to place a gentle hand on her shoulder. "What is it, Lois?" She lifted her face and drew a ragged breath. "I'm just... having to rethink one thing after another. For a hot-shot reporter, I seem to have been incredibly blind over the last few months." There was a pause while he digested her words. "This isn't just about Luthor and the kryptonite, is it?" he hazarded. Lois grimaced. He was altogether too perceptive. "No, it isn't," she admitted. "I worked something out today, that I should have realised long ago." She stood up again restlessly, refusing to look at him. "The thing is, I think it may be a memory you're repressing, so perhaps I shouldn't tell you - it might be too much of a shock. On the other hand, it might have the opposite effect, and bring your memory back - so I don't know what to do." By this time she was pacing back and forth, wringing her hands together. Superman got up and stood in her way, forcing her to halt, and grasped her shoulders with both hands. "Just tell me, please," he requested. "Well, it was obvious when you were cooking how well you know Clark's kitchen. You clearly spend a lot of time here. It explains why the two of you are close. And it explains why Clark is always running off like that..." "Lois!" Lois sighed and fixed her gaze on the middle of his chest. "I think he goes to meet you," she said haltingly. "I think the two of you are... a couple." "A couple." "Yes." She couldn't bear to look at him. How would he take it - blank denial? Calm agreement, spelling the final end to all the hopes she had cherished of a relationship between them? Or - perhaps worst of all - the same stricken look she had seen on his face last night? "You mean, I'm gay?" Lois nodded, finally lifting her gaze to meet his. To her astonishment, his face was alight with warm laughter. "Lois, I'm *not* gay," he said, with complete conviction. "How can you be so sure?" she challenged. The amusement left his face, though the warmth remained. "Because of this," he said. His right hand left her shoulder to cup her cheek, and he lowered his face to hers. The first brush of his lips was feather-light, and he raised his head briefly to gauge her reaction. Wide-eyed, she lifted her face for his second kiss. This time his mouth was warm and firm on hers, exploring and tasting her sweetness. All conscious thought fled from her mind, and she wound her arms about his waist and arched her body against his. His left hand caressed her back gently, and she shivered. Her mouth opened beneath his, inviting him to deepen the kiss, and he responded with enthusiasm. Greatly daring, she slipped a hand beneath the hem of his shirt to caress the warm, soft skin of his back, exploring the steel-hard muscles beneath. He growled deep in his throat and stroked his hand down the side of her neck to push her jacket collar aside; then his mouth left hers to trail fiery kisses down her neck and into the hollow of her shoulder. At her gasp of protest he lifted his head instantly and released her. He would have moved away, but she held onto him and lifted a hand to his cheek. "We have to do something about that stubble," she said huskily, her eyes still dark with passion. He smiled with mingled relief and apology. "I'm sorry," he murmured, capturing her hand and kissing her fingers gently. "Don't be." She snuggled her cheek into his chest, closing her eyes blissfully, and he wrapped his arms around her and held her in a close and comforting embrace. As Lois became aware of their surroundings once more, it occurred to her to wonder why she was lying on top of him, when previously they had been standing. She lifted her head to look about her, and saw the couch several feet below them. "Oh my God, we're flying!" she exclaimed. The next moment the room was whirling about them as they plummeted to the floor, landing heavily in a tangle of arms and legs. Superman lay stunned for a moment before he collected himself and scrambled to his feet, bending solicitously over her. "Lois, are you all right?" he asked urgently. Lois flexed her limbs one by one, expecting the pain to hit her at any moment, but everything seemed normal. "I seem to be fine," she said, sitting up cautiously. "That's an impressive party trick, big guy." She started to get up, and he quickly helped her to her feet. He would have lifted her into a chair, but she waved away his assistance. "I'm fine, Superman, really." Nevertheless, she found her legs were rather shaky, so she subsided into the armchair, picking up her coffee. She sipped it and made a face. "Ugh, it's cold." "I'll heat it up for you," he offered immediately, taking her cup and picking up his own. It took him a few moments to work out how to do that: the microwave, of course. When the coffee was hot he tasted his and added a couple of extra spoons of sugar before carrying them back to the living area. The pause had given Lois a chance to collect her thoughts. The fall had brought her back to earth in more senses than one. She had just experienced the most passionate kiss of her entire life, and it shocked her to realise the extent to which it had overwhelmed her. She knew that if Superman had taken things further, she would have done anything he had wanted, without a second's thought. What was she doing, losing her head so completely over someone whom, as he himself had pointed out, she barely knew? Sure, she had been fantasising about him since the day she had first met him, but her fantasies seemed to revolve around gentle kisses with sunsets and violins in the background, not mindless passion. Besides, a few minutes ago she had been convinced that he was having an affair with her partner and best friend. A sense of helpless confusion welled up inside her, and she had to quell a moment of blind panic. There was still too much at stake to lose control. Superman handed her her steaming mug and seated himself on the couch near her. He met her eyes uncertainly. "Lois -" he began and stopped, not sure how to proceed. She spoke quickly to forestall him. "Superman, this probably isn't the right time to be talking about ... our feelings. Let's wait till you have your memory back." She smiled shakily. "After all, I still don't even know your name!" He nodded his agreement. "I wanted to say something like that. Thank you, Lois." As he leant back and took a gulp of coffee, the television caught his eye. A news broadcast had just begun and, inevitably, the first item was about the Nightfall Asteroid. Superman reached for the remote and turned the sound on. His face turned grim as he absorbed the news that the threat from the asteroid was far from over. When the announcer went on to the next item, he turned the television off. "So that's what your news conference was about," he said heavily. Lois nodded, and filled him in on the details. "They mentioned that they hadn't heard from you since you got back. But they think they can handle it without you this time. They're modifying an Asgard rocket to take a nuclear bomb up and destroy it." Superman shook his head angrily. "That's no solution," he said. "The whole earth will get showered with radioactive fallout. They just want an excuse to test their nukes." Lois smiled. "You refused to use nuclear charges yesterday because of the fallout risk," she said. "I agree with you completely. The question is, what are we going to do about it?" He shrugged. "I guess the first thing is to find out whether I can fly when I put my mind to it. If I can't fly, there's not much I can do." He stood up and walked to a clear area of floor. Then he took a few deep breaths, closed his eyes and tried to levitate. Nothing happened. He tried again with his eyes open, with as little result. He glanced self-consciously at Lois, who was watching him with interest. Looking away again, he let himself remember what it had felt like, kissing her earlier. Almost at once, he was suffused with a feeling of joy and lightness. He bent his knees, and his feet lifted clear of the floor. "So much for jumping off," he commented, grinning. "Now what do I do?" Lois had been holding her breath, but she laughed at that, and applauded. It broke his concentration and he dropped to the floor, but this time he was able to lift off again with little trouble. He managed to push himself off and float up to the ceiling, where he pushed himself down again. He spent a little while getting used to floating back and forth, then concentrated on trying to move under his own steam. Remembering the gesture he had seen repeatedly on television, he thrust one fist in front of him, and was barely able to stop himself smashing into the far wall of the living room. As it was, several flakes of paint fell. "Oops," he said. "Clark's not going to like me destroying his apartment. Have you heard from Clark, by the way?" As Lois told him about Martha's phone call to Perry, Superman continued to exercise his newly-rediscovered skills. By the time she concluded, he was able to control his movements reliably, and could turn and stop in mid-air. A few minutes later he discovered he could walk upside down on the ceiling, and Lois couldn't help but chuckle at the expression of innocent glee on his face. He turned and flashed a mischievous smile at her. "This is great fun, you should try it," he said, walking over to a point above the couch and extending a hand down to