Strangers III: When Two Hearts Collide By Missy Gallant Rating: G Submitted: December 2001 Author's note: I'd like to thank my ever faithful beta- readers Kath Roden, Carol Moncado, Merry Truitt and Jo March for their wonderful help editing and cheerleading this story. And a special thanks to Marnie Rowe for her brainstorming ideas also. <> denotes thoughts //* denotes dream/fantasy ******** The tall figure scuffled his feet along the rough boards of the old worn-out dock, jumping in surprise as the blaring sounds of a boat horn pierced the night like a knife. Red and white flashes of light from the ambulance cast eerie shadows on the gurney several yards in front of him, its unearthly red glow swirling with the mist rising from beneath the dock. He snapped his cell phone shut and tucked it back into his suit coat pocket, wishing his snitch had been wrong this time. Deeply saddened by the death of his acquaintance, Clark wished he'd heard a cry for help or had been there to save him. The police force was on alert since four corpses had been found while dredging the bay last week. The bodies had been similarly bound and weighted; bags of sand tied around their torsos had sent them straight down to the bottom of the bay. Clark had started looking into the case a few days ago, but the EPRAD investigation with the now-dead scientist had taken precedence. But those bodies didn't appear to have any connection with Samuel Platt's case. Platt's body had been found floating in the dark waters an hour earlier with no outward signs of violence or injury. Using his super vision to look through the body bag, it appeared to Clark that he hadn't been dead for too long. His features were clearly identifiable; there was no mistaking who he was. Looks like this story is top priority now, Clark thought as he watched the ambulance crew load the gurney into back of their vehicle. One of the attendants turned the flashing lights off; it was not going to be a race against time this trip. Clark walked over to Inspector Henderson, who had just dispatched a couple of officers to place crime scene tape around the area. It was still too early to determine if a crime had been committed; forensics and the autopsy results would be a huge factor in how the case was prioritized. "So you knew the deceased, Kent?" Henderson asked, still staring at the medical personnel as they slammed the back door of the ambulance shut. Clark had briefly identified Platt to Henderson when he'd arrived a few moments earlier. "Yeah. We spoke earlier this week about EPRAD. He was the employee who'd given me the exclusive on the situation over there. After compiling his data - and believe me, it was quite an undertaking to put it all together - it turned out that he was right." "That was great work, Kent. Pretty quick also. I read your article on it this morning. The Feds must be pleased that you did all their work for them. And *we* even had to round them up. I have the whole pack sitting in holding cells just waiting for transferring." "Thanks, Bill," Clark answered sadly. "Of course, you realize that we didn't get all of them. There was still a bomb on the Prometheus this afternoon." "Was there really?" Henderson sounded doubtful. "I'm having a hard time believing that some guy in a flashy suit can swallow a bomb, then live to tell about it. I saw the news clips on this Superman, but honestly, Kent, I have my doubts." "I was there; I saw it," Clark replied, smiling to himself. "It didn't appear like a hoax to me." "If this guy's real, he's destroyed the evidence of that second bomb. No one is going to want to retrieve it now." Henderson appeared slightly amused at his off-handed observation. "Guess not," he answered, slightly guilty that the proof of the sabotage was now residing in his digestive system. "Time will tell, Bill. I believe he's real." "If you say so, Clark. I've come to honor your word in the couple of years that we've known each other; but this 'Superman' is one guy who I have to judge for myself." "Fair enough." He made a mental note to seek out his friend the next time he was in the suit. Having the police respect his abilities was a priority if his identity as Superman was going to work. The last thing he wanted was to undermine the local law; starting with the first lesson learned about being a super hero - don't eat the evidence. "Back to Platt... Did he think anyone was out to get him? What was his mental state when you talked to him? What can you tell me about him?" "I guess he would have fallen under the title of eccentric, because he was very passionate about his work. When we finally pieced everything together, he was so thrilled and happy that the corruption was going to be revealed and that he could start concentrating on his research again. I believe that he thought we'd found all of the conspirators. In my opinion, we obviously didn't; there was still another bomb." Clark remembered both of the bombs that he'd located - the one he had secretly disengaged from the Messenger and the other that he'd eaten from the Prometheus. "Supposing it were true, could that bomb on the shuttle have been missed? If there was one found on the Messenger, couldn't it have been placed there at the same time?" Henderson's doubts still lingered in his eyes. "Don't think so, Bill," Clark said. "The mission crews were up all night and the next morning inspecting the shuttle. It had to have been someone still on the inside. Security was very tight there today." Clark was glad that he had signed in with EPRAD security that morning before the mission was postponed. Although he didn't think that anyone would check, it was good that he had that alibi. "You gonna share that autopsy report with me, Bill?" Clark said hopefully. He'd learned not to push the Inspector too hard. Henderson was a fair man and Clark knew that he was bound by regulations and rules, but over the past couple of years, they'd helped each other on more than a few cases. "That depends on whether an investigation is warranted." "Fair enough." "Now you know I don't need to remind you not to interfere with police investigation, right Kent?" "No, you don't." Clark grinned at his friend, then waited for the next line. "And if you find anything *by accident*, that you'll inform me about it." "Always, Bill." "Say this turns out to be a full fledged investigation, I don't want you snooping around my in-box for any reports, got that?" Henderson ordered with an innocent expression on his face as he stared out across the bay. "Wouldn't even dream of it," Clark replied, looking like a cat with feathers sticking out of his mouth. Henderson liked Kent. He'd gladly give up two men on his force for a man of Kent's caliber. Sure, he had the size and strength to be on the force, but it was his intelligence and patience that Henderson valued. On more than one occasion, he'd bagged the case when his whole team had been left stumped. Plus, he didn't think he'd be one of those hotshot rookies who'd rush the case in order to get a notch on their gun belt. But he suspected that Kent wouldn't be happy as a man of the law. It was obvious from several occasions in the past that the big reporter had been disturbed deeply at the plight of gunshot or other victims of violence. The pen was mightier than the sword, at least for Kent. Most media personnel were bottom feeders, interfering in his investigation any chance they had, but Kent knew his boundaries. In any capacity, he was glad to have him on the same team, even if they were on warring sides of the fence between the media and law. "Looks like the boys are finishing up. Don't get into any trouble down here, if you stick around," Henderson instructed. "Thanks for the info about Platt." "Anytime, Bill," Clark replied. As the inspector walked away, he saw him nod his head in acknowledgment to his answer. Clark was pleased with the relationship that he had established with Henderson. He respected his authority and was careful to keep the trust that he had built up over the past few months. Always mindful not to publicly release any information entrusted to him before it was allowed, he'd been scooped a couple of times by a rival newspaper, but it was a small price to pay for the confidence the officer had in him. Clark's eyes followed the inspector as he gave short orders to a couple of his men, and then as he drove away in his squad car. The person or persons who had killed Samuel Platt were still walking around; Clark was almost certain of it. Platt hadn't seemed suicidal to him when they'd talked the other day. As a matter of fact, he had been looking forward to his continuing research at EPRAD. He wondered if his informant had any more details about what had happened. When he'd received his call earlier that night, he'd only been told the who and the where. Maybe the snitch could tell him more, that is, if he could find him tonight. He hadn't had much of a chance to think about that second bomb until now. Could he have missed any evidence that indicated that another one was going to be set? He thought Toni Baines was the sole mastermind behind the setup to frame Jack Laderman, the director of the space program. She had cleverly set him up to take the fall for the bomb he'd found on the Messenger. Most of his next-in-line had been bribed by her to point the finger at the ex-commander. Her gain, after his fall, would have been to become the new director of EPRAD. What did this have to do with Platt's death? It could have been a freak accident, but that seemed unlikely to him, even at this early point in the investigation. The autopsy report should reveal whether he died as a drowning victim or before he was found in the bay. Why was the scientist in this part of the city? He had lived in a questionable part of town - Clark had seen his apartment the other day when they were working together - but it was at least a couple of miles on the other side of the city. It could be a good place to start his investigation. If the police found out that his death was not an accident, his apartment would be off limits to the media. That sounded like a plan. A quick look around the docks, then it was off to Platt's place. ***** Lois tugged at the stiff leather top for the tenth time that night. The biker's outfit was creeping down her chest and if she tightened the laced strings on the front any more, she wouldn't be able to breathe, not to mention popping out of the detestable outfit. Where was Bobby? If he didn't show up soon, she was going to forget about him and head to the Ace O'Clubs alone. She was glad that Kal had loaned her some money; immediately after leaving the Daily Planet, she was able to purchase some cheap fashion rip-offs at a rundown clothing store down the street from her apartment. Not all bikers were rich; she was glad that she'd found that sale rack in the back of the store. Too bad this was the only style on sale that she could afford. No wonder no one had bought this top; it was a torture device, probably designed by a man. After an extremely long day, which didn't appear to have any end in sight, her thoughts returned to a couple of hours earlier. She'd come back to her apartment with her purchases and quickly washed and set her hair on some fat rollers, ate some ice cream for supper and at last, collapsed on her couch for a half an hour nap. It would've been so easy to accept defeat after her rejection - again - but after getting over the initial disappointment of being beaten out of the Superman story, her conversation with Perry had actually encouraged her. He really was a sweet man - and he did seem to feel bad when he turned her down. Trying to think optimistically, she looked forward to working with the gruff editor some day soon. But first there was work to be done. Bobby had better get here soon. It didn't matter that she was an hour late for their nine- thirty appointment, he should have waited for her. Fifty-third and Wharf Street wasn't the most popular corner to hang out on, especially in this costume. She'd received a few crude comments and a couple of offers in the fifteen minutes she'd been standing here; now she was getting nervous. Faces were becoming familiar; she was sure that the unsavory characters were circling her like a pair of vultures. Staying here wasn't wise, but appearing as though she belonged in this section of town seemed to be the offensive strategy. Yanking on her top again, she started walking down the street. The Ace O'Clubs was located five blocks down Wharf Street, Lois remembered, trying to mentally map out her exact location. The street wasn't located directly on the bay, but about five hundred yards inland. It was the first road off the docks; the space between it and the bay was filled with ancient warehouses and dark loading areas. A man's deep voice and feminine squeals ricocheted from inside an old boarding house as Lois walked past it quickly, eyeing the rundown building in distaste. The damp air was causing Lois' full hairstyle to droop, and she was going to be a mess before she ever found the club. The extra-hold hairspray had given up its grip after too many bands of fog had drifted over her. She gripped the edges of her leather jacket close to her body, trying to guard herself against the rapidly chilling air, but mainly as a way to cover herself. After viewing her surroundings a little more closely, her suggestive ensemble was making her self-conscious. Luckily, the dimly lit street was fairly deserted. The only signs of life around her came from a couple of apartments located over a barred-up liquor store and a lone night watchman walking his beat. But from the distance, the sounds of rowdy laughter bubbling up between the distinctive beat of music began to reach her ears over the noise of the traffic a few streets over. No one ever wanted to drive off the main thoroughfare through this part of town. You kept your doors locked and your eyes straight ahead. Taxi drivers charged extra if they were made to drive down here. She approached the end of the block and looked carefully around the corner of the building down the cross street. The headlights of a car was turned towards her and she pressed herself flat against wall to conceal herself as much as possible. The headlights flashed past her as the car continued to turn far past the radius it needed to drive down the street. Lois stole a look quickly from behind the corner of the building and saw it parked in a short driveway about a hundred feet away. A limousine? Could it be the one Bobby was talking about this morning? Clanging chains pulled open a creaking garage door and the limo drove inside the building. The license plate! This was a great chance to get the license plate number. Not knowing if the huge door would automatically come down, she quickly slid along the wall, listening carefully for voices before sneaking inside. The long black vehicle had stopped ten feet into the building. It was dark inside, and quiet, except for the idling of the car engine. She quickly memorized the license plate, JD52197, then waited to see what they would do next while scribbling the number on her palm with a tiny pen hanging from her keychain. A motor started grinding again and this time it was another set of doors opening in front of the vehicle. The doors above her began to descend and she stepped further inside the building. This was a good place to start her investigation and a far too tempting opportunity to pass up. Lois pressed herself flat against the wall once more, the adrenaline causing her heart to pound. A hand clasped itself over her mouth and she was pulled out of the building just under the dropping door. She struggled against her assailant for a couple of seconds before being released as the door hit the cement driveway with a dull sounding thud. Whirling around, she faced her attacker. "You! What are you doing here?" she sputtered defensively upon her immediate recognition of her investigation spoiler. "Saving your neck! That's what!" Bobby Bigmouth retorted. "What do ya think you're doin' trying to get locked up in a building down here?" "Managing just great until you nearly yanked my arm off. It's a fine time for you to show up, too. Things were just getting interesting. I got the license plate number of that limousine that's been driving around. I was about to see who was in it and then you had to play cave hero." "Gettin' shut up in there ain't nothin' but trouble. Listen Lois, that place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. How'd ya think you were gonna get out? Definitely not in one piece if these are the guys who sent Gus on a cheap cruise around the bay." "I got tired of waiting and the opportunity was too good to pass up. Where were you?" "I waited for a while, then I got hungry again. It was not like you was busting your buns to get down here. Do you know there's nothing open this time of night except Hobb's Ham Haus?" "I should've figured you were thinking about your stomach while I was dangling like a piece of meat on that corner. I bet I discovered more new forms of lowlife standing around waiting than scientists have found all century." "Hey, I'll have you know that I passed up a possible free meal to look for you. This other guy I give info to is a generous spender, but I didn't have anything more for him and told him on the phone." "Other guy?" "Another reporter. Sorry doll, but he's was providing food for me long before you showed up in my alley." "So what was this tip about?" Lois asked irritably. "Another body in the bay. This guy promised me authentic Italian pasta if I came up with any more tips. Believe me, I've had his pasta before and where it comes from, he won't tell, but it's unbelievable!" "Will you stop thinking with your taste buds for a minute?" she snapped as a disgusting hunch of this reporter's identity crept over her. "This reporter, he wouldn't be Clark Kent, would he?" "How'd ya know? You two ain't working together, are ya?" Bobby asked. "If I'm supplying pertinent information to both of you, my cuisine's gonna hafta go up a star rating or two. I ain't gonna be gypped outta... " "No! We're not working together! You can stay here and pet your stomach; I'm going to the Ace O'Clubs," Lois said angrily, then stomped off. Frustration fueled her steps as she stormed across the street. Several seconds later, she heard a small engine rumbling to life. Just let some sleaze ball make a move against her; in her present mood, no one was safe if they made the unlucky choice of getting in her way. Wasn't there anything that Kent didn't have his fat mitts into? Her only source apparently had been supplying tips to him for some time. Grudgingly she admitted that it was the name of the game - to be quicker and smarter than anyone else - and so far Kent was making her eat his dust. Just seemed so unfair, particularly when she was busting her buns trying to make a break for herself. An engine backfired behind her and from her peripheral vision, she saw a small wheel rolling slowly in the gutter. "Hey Lois! You stickin' with the plan or are you goin' alone?" Bobby revved the engine of his bike. She threw him a quick glance, then did a double-take. "On that thing? Bobby, you must be kidding! That's not a motorcycle, that's a... joke!" "So I had to borrow my cousin's dirt bike. It cost me big, I'll have ya know. Catering a birthday party with fifteen screaming five year olds ain't no picnic. Geez! You're so nitpicky, you'd drive a monkey crazy! "And you're not picky enough! I thought even *you* would have enough class to avoid a jerk like Kent!" she blurted. "Who? Clark? He's a great guy! Whatcha got against him? Is he why you're in such a snit?" "I don't do *snits* for your information and why is everyone so fooled by him? Just because he has a couple of teeny little Kerth awards, everyone thinks he's the greatest thing since lock picks. First Kal gets duped by him and now I find out you're a slobbering sucker for his act too! He could drop off the face of the earth and it wouldn't be too soon as far as I'm concerned!" "You're jealous!" Bobby stated, then turned the bike off. "What?" "I said, *you* are jealous." He sat back against the seat of the bike and smiled at her. "Lois Lane doesn't get jealous; she gets even." Lois glowered at him as she placed her hands on her hips. "You want what he has and it kills you that he's at the top of his field and you ain't!" he taunted, trying to get another rise out of her. "Admit it! I dare ya!" "I'm not admitting *anything* to you, even if it were true. And I don't take dares from someone who rides a contraption like that," she replied, avoiding his eyes. "My cousin, Richie, would take real offense hearing ya say that. I sacrificed big for ya, doll! The least you can do is to show a little appreciation for all my trouble." "Appreciation? For what? Trying to humiliate me in front of all the sleaze balls on Wharf Street?" Lois exclaimed. "You're doin' a great job humiliating yourself with that outfit you barely got on," he noted wryly. "My dirt bike only compliments whatever fashion statement you're trying to make." "I only *let* you come along because I thought you might be useful. All you're doing is picking fights and hurtling insults. I don't need that... not tonight. Go home, Bobby," she snapped back at him. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'll do this myself." Bobby frowned, then started up the bike. "Okay, Lois. Looks like you gotta handle on things, so I'm outta here. Luck to ya, lady; you're gonna need it." "Fine," Lois grumbled to herself. She'd handled this notorious section of city perfectly well on her own. Bobby was only distracting her from the main purpose of being in this putrid place to begin with - investigating *her* story. The motorcycle slowly drove a few feet in front of her, jerking on old shocks as the brakes were over-applied repeatedly by its unfamiliar rider. He seemed reluctant to leave her alone as he drove slowly to the next cross street. Suddenly, the motorcycle began backing up quickly and another loud backfire boomed from the exhaust system as it flew past her in reverse. Lois turned around and saw a panicked expression on Bobby's face. The bike drove forward again and he urgently commanded, "Get on the back! We gotta get outta here!" "What?" "If you don't wanna be carved up by an angry street gang, get your little tail moving! Now!!" Reacting to the alarm in his voice, Lois flung herself onto the bike's tiny seat behind Bobby, nearly knocking the small bike over in her haste to climb aboard. She was forced to grab him tightly around the waist as the bike spun around in the street so it could head in the opposite direction. A wall of gang members emerged from around the corner, raising their voices and hurtling obscenities at them as they completed their turn on the motorcycle. Lois tucked her face against Bobby's back to shut out the images of their glinting switch blades and hung on for all she was worth as the straining engine propelled them away from the immediate danger. After turning down several streets, Bobby pulled them to a bumpy stop a couple of hundred yards away from the Ace O'Clubs. Lois had lost all sense of direction during their getaway, mostly numb from the close call that she'd nearly stumbled into. It was a little surprising to find herself in front of the seedy bar at last. "You okay, Sweetcakes?" Bobby asked after turning the motorcycle off. The music had stopped for the time being and all that could be heard was the loud voices of the people inside. "You still game, or do ya want me to take you home?" "I'm fine," Lois answered shakily. "Thanks for not leaving me; especially after I lit into you about nothing. Tonight's been so frustrating and I took it out on you." "Don't mention it. But ya gotta admit the old girl has some pep when ya need it," Bobby said as he patted the hunk of metal in front of him. He sat there expecting her to answer but she remained silent. With a good-natured grin on his face, he turned around in his seat and teased her. "Come on! Admit it!" "Okay. I'll admit that I'm glad we weren't on foot," she said with a sigh as she climbed off the back of the bike. She took off her black jacket and handed it to Bobby. "Here. This was all I could find for you, plus this thing." She pulled out of her pants pocket an odd- shaped piece of leather and held it out for him. "What's this? Does that mean you want to go inside?" he asked with a small smirk. "Ya tough, Lois." "I think you are supposed to wear it on your head; it's a head wrap. Cheap imitation leather, but no one will care in this place," Lois continued, determined to leave the gang scare behind her. "That jacket's an old one from a guy I knew in high school. I hoped it would come in handy some day." "Okay, Doll. Let me do the talkin'. Better scope the joint first, though, to see if there's any mugs I know." "Um... Bobby? Why are you disguising yourself as a biker if someone might recognize you? Won't that give us away?" "Nah! Not at all. Being known for being everywhere and *not* being seen is my specialty," he said confidently. "Plus nobody's ever seen me outta my chef's apron." She inspected his appearance after he'd placed the head wrap in place. "Not too bad... for an amateur. Let's go!" Lois felt her stomach lurch the moment she entered the place. Inside the smoke-filled room was the putrid odor of greasy food and stale beer. The first thing she noticed was that most of the patrons were crowding the bar and only a couple of scruffy looking men were seated at a table. Picking their way across the floor littered with peanut shells and dirty napkins, they choose a location out of the way near the wall by the kitchen which allowed them to observe the bar with ease. Lois tried to listen through the blended chorus of several simultaneous conversations, but making sense of any one conversation was impossible. Instead, she glanced at Bobby, who was scowling at some lipstick on the edge of his pointed collar. What a peculiar character he was turning out to be. At first, he came across as someone who was out for himself - and his appetite - but she sensed that there were many layers to his character. For someone who was practically a stranger, he'd shown her more loyalty than she deserved. Sure, he was always trying to pick a fight with her, but when it came to her safety in this part of town, he seemed genuinely concerned. Laughing at his bike was being just plain snobbish; anyway, he'd only borrowed the bucket of bolts to help her out. He wasn't exactly what you could describe as handsome, she pondered, at least not in her book, but he wasn't bad- looking. Just an average Joe from the city. On an impulse, she found herself asking him, "Why are you doing this? You have a life, or at least I think you do, so why are you helping me?" Bobby stopped glaring at the red smudge on his jacket and shrugged his shoulders. "I have my reasons. Gus was one of those stiffs found in the bay. He and I went back a ways. There's a couple more... I don't want to get into them." "You said that you're married - what does your wife think about you running around this late at night?" "Not a problem. She's got crazy hours and we made a deal not to grill each other about what we do when we're apart. Most of the time, Rosie and me'd want to kill each other if we knew. Just works better that way. Our number one marital rule is: no grill; no kill." Looking down at his collar again, he asked indignantly, "You been chewin' on this or what?" A man in a food-splattered apron approached their table and barked, "Hey, the rules are: you sit at a table; you order somethin'. So what'll it be? The choices are chili and chili. Okay? Chili it is and two beers on tap." He turned around and lumbered back to the kitchen as Lois and Bobby sat there wondering what just happened. Lois spoke first. "There you go, Bobby. You said you were hungry." "Even I might not be *that* hungry. Geez, talk about your consumer relations." A couple of minutes later, the barbarian waiter set two chipped bowls and a couple of mugs of beer in front of them. Bobby's eyes glazed over as hunger ruled once again. Then he picked up his spoon and stuck it in the stiff, lumpy glob. He nearly gagged while trying to swallow and hastily gulped down half of his beer. "I wouldn't even feed that to my ma- in-law's stick dog!" "Stick dog?" "Yeah, the kind that's so hideous looking you'd only want to pet it with a stick," he replied with a mischievous grin as he pushed both bowls to the far side of the table. Lois rolled her eyes. "You said this place was high risk; now we know why," she retorted, then looked around the room. "Well? Do you know anyone?" Bobby shook his head. "Just barely recognize a couple ugly faces. Let's finish our beer, then we can get another at the bar and see if we can get someone talking." A singer began another set, her background music playing from a cheap karaoke box. Bobby jingled his keys unrhythmically on the wood of the table as he tried to keep time with the music. A few minutes passed with no more conversation between them as they watched the crowd from the bar jeer and heckle the entertainment. Before they could finish their drinks, the sneering waiter slapped two more beers on the table, grabbed the bowls and walked away without a word. Lois turned to Bobby and whispered restlessly, "This is not getting us anywhere. I think we need to snoop around, or at least make some eye contact to see if anyone looks suspicious." "Uh... they all look suspicious, Sweetcakes," he answered wryly. "Sweetcakes? Bobby?" a loud female voice spoke from the back of his seat. The blood drained out of his face at the familiar voice and he turned around quickly. "Rose?" A tall woman hovered above them, her feet firmly planted on the floor and her hands on her hips. "I was comin' out to see who was refusing to eat my chili again and I find *you* rubbin' on another woman!" "I wasn't doin' any rubbin'," Bobby said, squirming in his chair. "Who's your tart?" Rose spat after turning to Lois. "I didn't think you'd go this cheap, Bobby." "Sweetheart...! It's not whatcha thinking at all," he jumped in quickly. "Yeah! Then why ya dressed up like a hoodlum on Viagra? You going through some kind of mid-life crisis or somethin'?" she exclaimed loudly. "Rosie, keep ya voice down; you're making a scene!" Bobby hoarsely whispered after standing up. "I can explain!" "This should be good! Tell me why that floozy's lipstick's all over your collar." After listening to this quick exchange, Lois piped in, "So this is Mrs. Bigmouth, I presume? I'd say it's nice to meet you, but I'd be lying. For the record, that *is* my lipstick." Bobby glared at Lois, who was smugly enjoying herself in spite of being insulted. "Lois! You stay out of this!" Then he turned back to his wife. "And what are you doin' in this joint?" "Cooking, that's what!" "You the one who made this slop? Rosie! Haven't I taught you anything?" Bobby waved his hands in a gesture of frustration. "What did you use for meat? Roadkill?" "You think you can do better, well come on, Romeo. I've got a pot with your name on it." She grabbed him by the ear and pulled him towards the kitchen. "Ow! Rosie! Get your paws off me! I'm comin'! I'm comin'! First thing ya gotta remember 'bout cookin' is..." His voice faded into the background noise as he was led away through the double swinging doors. Lois sat at the table for a couple of seconds, amused at the exchange between husband and wife. Rose obviously had less talent for cooking than she did. Apparently, Bobby had to become a chef out of self-defense. She was glad she didn't have to cook for anyone, even herself; that's what take-out was for. Not that she was ready to entertain a man in the near *or* distant future - unless she counted Kal. Her mouth curved into an unconscious smile at the thought of him. He had access to the finest restaurants in the world; why would she want to bother trying to cook? The couple's loud voices could still be heard arguing above the singer's and the crowd of noisy men. The keys to Bobby's bike lay on the table in front of her. She was exhausted and didn't want to take the chance of Rose returning to put her to work washing dishes or before some local tapeworm had noticed that she was sitting alone. Bobby would be okay; he was with his wife - no one in their right mind would want to tangle up with her. Tonight hadn't been a complete loss - at least she had the license plate of the limo, and the old warehouse where it entered was a possible stake-out. It was close to midnight; if she got home soon, maybe Kal would stop by for a visit. She grabbed the keys after placing some money on the table and left the Ace O'Clubs. ***** Clark conveniently dislodged the old doorknob to open the door to Platt's apartment. The old building reeked of foul, moldy air; the rusty handle was easy to dismantle in his hand even without super powers. As he glanced through the wood door before entering, he saw that the place was clearly abandoned, but even so, it had been completely turned upside-down. He quickly scanned the room for bugs or any surveillance equipment, and to his grim relief, didn't locate any. Apparently the person who did this felt their work was complete and didn't need to keep tabs on this place any longer. Pieces of furniture were knocked over, and foam stuffing, ripped into small pieces, covered old books and papers were thrown in a fit on the floor. Nothing was left in its original location. When Clark had been there a couple days before, the apartment was dreary and cluttered, but not utterly destroyed as it was now. Floating over the rubble, Clark methodically began scanning through the papers and debris hoping to find any clues to either who did this, or why they were after Platt. Disappointed after a few minutes of repeatedly searching, he set his feet down on a fairly clear area of the floor to figure out what to do next. No longer distracted by his close inspection, he began to notice an unfamiliar smell in the room which seem to originate from the musty brick wall that separated the small area of a bedroom from the living area. Some of the mortar appeared to be of a different texture than the rest of the mildew- coated mortar that joined the bricks together. Upon closer examination, Clark discovered it was fairly fresh, but cleverly painted over to blend in with the rest of the wall. Taking an X-rayed look through the wall, he saw an old pipe. Lead plumbing was common in older buildings, but it caught his attention immediately. This pipe was short, only sixteen inches in length and didn't appear to have a function, but what piqued Clark's interest was the bright solders outlining the edges. Using his finger as a tool, Clark removed the fresh mortar outlining a rectangular section of four blocks. The cement was still wet a half an inch deep, and he felt his heartbeat quicken in excitement. This was not a hiding place thought of on the spur-of-the-moment; Platt had carefully planned and prepared this secret compartment. Hearing the report of a police radio from outside the building, Clark knew there wasn't much time left to retrieve the pipe. Officers were on their way up and would arrive in a couple of minutes. Gripping the edges of one brick, he pulled it out quickly, the others following in rapid succession. The pipe slid out with ease, but there was no time to examine what was inside. The police were already on the stairs and would be at the door in seconds. After two years of concealing his super human abilities in the city, old habits were hard to break. He rapidly returned the bricks to their place inside the wall, packing the still soft mortar around them. With his heat vision, he lightly scorched the white cement so it blended in with the rest of the wall. Satisfied with his repair job, Clark stepped into the bedroom, opened the window and flew straight into the air, heading for home. ***** Clark was far too curious to wait to examine the contents of the pipe and didn't want to bother with setting down somewhere hidden and then arriving at his doorstep in a normal manner. The only substance his vision couldn't penetrate was lead or he would have inspected it while in flight. Landing on the balcony of his apartment, he moved so fast that even an alert observer would have had a difficult time detecting him. Tearing the thick, soft alloy off from the end of one side of the pipe, Clark peered inside, inquisitively. He eagerly removed a rolled-up folder, and immediately recognized Platt's messy handwriting on the first page. The rest of the report was typed so it was easy to scan quickly. It itemized the drugs that the Prometheus had taken to the space station for their medical research; each drug listed had a detailed chemical analysis and experimental procedures. As he read further into the report, he recalled having seen it with the papers the scientist had given him when researching the threats on the Messenger. Joking with Clark that he'd been too exuberant in gathering his data, he had thrust the report under the bottom of a stack and ignored it the rest of the time they'd worked together. Although it appeared to be top secret information, Clark was puzzled. This data had to have been shared among the labs and scientists. The technicians on the space station should have access to this if they were to conduct their medical experiments. Platt must have been trying to keep this from the wrong hands, but whoever was after him could have retrieved this information from several other sources. Unless this data was somehow different. Was this something the police should know about? He could always slip it into Henderson's desk with an anonymous note saying it was found in Platt's apartment. Henderson would suspect that he'd placed it there and if it was important to the investigation, the officer would probably ask him about it on the sly. Opening his desk drawer, he lifted the large file from the EPRAD investigation and placed it in front of him. He had planned on returning this data to the scientist in the next day or so. If he were to find out who was behind this, it could be fortunate that he still had it in his possession. He turned on his computer and began sifting through the file once more. Clark blew cold air gently on his keyboard while his fingers typed three hundred and fifty words a minute as he rapidly compared both reports. After ruining a few keyboards in his early days at the Daily Planet, he had learned to become more patient and practical while assimilating data. But the supply of extra keyboards in his closet still allowed room for error when he became too involved in his investigation and failed to watch his typing speed. Fifteen minutes later, he sat back in his chair contemplating his findings. The two reports were identical, except the one he'd found in the pipe had a slight - but perhaps significant - difference. All of the experiments on the drugs had an extra procedure - an addition experiment involving another substance. The substance was unidentified; it was only labeled as Element X. Needing to clear his head, Clark spun out of his work clothes until only the suit remained. A first patrol around Metropolis in his brand new identity appealed to him greatly after the grim evening on the docks, followed by plowing through another complex stack of data. Besides, it was time the criminal element of the city knew that Superman was here to stay. ***** A well-dressed form approached two other lesser dressed men in the dimly lit office. The men were visibly shaken by the newcomer's arrival; it was unexpected and they were not ready to receive the reprimand that they knew was coming. "Good evening, gentlemen," the impeccably attired man addressed them. "Disturbing my evening to see to this matter personally does not bode well for your future in this enterprise." One of the men stepped halfway behind his partner, slyly trying to slink away out of sight, then slightly bumped the other man forward, to make him answer to the boss. "We are... ah, it's a privilege to see you, sir," replied the braver of the two men. "What do we owe the honor of your visit here in our most humble... ah, working place." Frowning at the lackey's attempt of formal address, he then inquired, "So... Mr. McInnis? I'm assuming that the assignment was performed to my satisfaction and you have in your possession the Element X?" "Uh, actually, no... Platt's place was clean. Me and Joe here turned that rat hole inside- out, but nothin' was there. Honestly, boss. If it was there, we would have found it." Summoning an ounce of defense for his partner, Joe blurted bravely, "It's the truth, what Mickey said. We looked hard." "Do you realize this whole operation is residing on finding that mineral... element... whatever it is?" "Yes, Mr. Luthor. We know the urgency. You made it very clear how much this means to you... your operation." "And you have to know that I'm very displeased that the scientist was disposed of before finding Element X. Your inability to think about the consequences of your actions has severely hindered my plans!" His eyes narrowed to dark slits as he lifted his chin; anger and frustration threatening to overcome the cool composure put on for others. "I don't care what you have to do, or who you have to go through to do it; I want it found immediately or there will be hell to pay. Is that understood?" "Yes, boss... um, we'll handle it," McInnis stammered. "I'll get guys from the other..." "*Don't* bore me with your petty details. It's simple. Find the element and you live. Fail again, and you die. Quite simple, even for incompetents like you, Mr. McInnis." Luthor turned on his heels and opened the door to the office. "Oh, and if you even think about going to the police, remember, a few of Metropolis's finest are on my payroll. After all, I *am* the mayor." ***** Lex Luthor leaned back comfortably in his desk chair and breathed in the aroma of new leather. The approval for the renovations of City Hall had been a hard fought battle, but at last, they were now taking place on his floor. Of course, it was at his insistence that the other city employees had their offices redesigned first; a good strategy in securing loyalties among the underlings started with a chivalrous example of self-sacrifice. Leaving a few dingy offices in their original condition in the basement of the building would be good motivation for anyone who didn't want to be relocated there upon noncompliance of his wishes. It was quite a challenge implementing his own agenda while keeping his popularity as mayor soaring in the polls and public opinion. Since becoming mayor of Metropolis three years ago, the media had treated him favorably for the most part. Local television personalities and journalists had often produced glowing editorials about his achievements - all but one. An insignificant observation caught his attention a few days ago. He had basically ignored the speculations about the supposed Miracle Man who had the city in an uproar for the past few months. But when a reporter named Clark Kent invited the Miracle Man out of hiding, it disturbed him. It was his job as mayor to welcome this phenomenon instead of a popular reporter and he was inflamed at the sheer mockery that seemed to be aimed at his position of power. This reporter had caused many headaches for him in the last couple days - Kent had not only stolen an opportunity to increase his hold on the city, but also exposed Antoinette Baines' corruption within the Space Program. As with all of those who dared, knowing and unknowingly, to cross his path, he had his secretary research Kent's past and reporting history with his administration yesterday afternoon. The inquiry revealed that Metropolis's most respected journalist had never called his office for an exclusive interview, but the Daily Planet had other less- achieved reporters covering his accomplishments. Appearances indicated that Clark Kent seemed to be avoiding any assignments linked directly to his office. He pounded his fist on the latest edition of the Daily Planet. Kent's byline was printed under the headline once again. It seemed he found that spandex-covered freak-of- nature who appeared yesterday at EPRAD worthy enough to interview. Superman had to be a hoax or a sick practical joke from some warped mind - but he could only wish it were true. If he hadn't seen with his own two eyes what happened on the launch pad, he never would have believed it in a million years. Now, Superman was the topic on everyone's lips. Depending upon the public's reaction to this blue-caped exhibitionist, he'd have to consider carefully the city's response to his flamboyant arrival. It was yet to be determined how much of a game player this flying boy scout would be in Metropolis, but his endorsement as mayor should count heavily on public opinion. There were more pressing issues to be dealt with at the moment. First priority had to be given to the discreet elimination of Baines. Pity she was so beautiful, yet he couldn't take the chance of being double-crossed. He had her eating out of his hand now, but being incarcerated tended to erase loyalties among the most faithful cohorts. It was a chance he couldn't afford to take. It was necessary to have one more conversation with her - to see if she knew the whereabouts of this Element X. She had come to him with the information that Platt had a mysterious substance of unknown origins. The glowing green rock apparently had been circulating through many government departments for years. No one knew what is was or where it came from - only that some offshoot branch of the military had discovered an unknown pure element in rural America. It finally made the rounds to EPRAD and was entrusted to the care of Samuel Platt, who had discovered its amazing effects on certain research drugs he was preparing for the future experiments on the Space Station. According to the information Baines obtained discreetly, his procedure included exposing those drugs to the slight radiation of the rock, in combination with increased gravity in a specially designed chamber. The results were amazing as they nearly tripled the drug's effectiveness. Super drugs literally. It sped up the time it took for the body to react to the drug, made them longer lasting and only a minuscule dosage was needed. Anyone who was in possession of this Element X would be on the cutting edge of producing drugs for the medical world. Or illegal super drugs for those who wanted to pay dearly for the latest in fast, potent and nearly invisible substances. But his plans would be for naught if he didn't acquire that rock and find out for himself what was its full potential. If his former lover knew where Platt had stored Element X, a promise of freedom in exchange for more information would be a tasty carrot to dangle in front of her face. He opened up a wooden box on his desk and withdrew an expensive cigar. Some people deserved to have the finest life could bring them. ***** Lois pushed another quarter into the pay phone's slot and dialed the number to Lucky's Limos Rentals. The license plate number turned out to be owned by a rental agency whose employee wasn't revealing anything about the person who rented it. So now it was time for another tactic. It was a hunch, but worth taking the risk. She covered the phone's receiver with a wad tissue and changed her tone of voice to a nasal twang when the call was answered. "Yeeess. This is the secretary of rental JD52197. We have a very big problem and my boss expects this to be rectified right awaaay." "What can I do for you, lady?" "There's a terrible odor just reeking from the back seat. It smells like a couple of alley cats used it for a litter box. My *boss* is extremely upset and wants a replacement." "Just bring the limo in and we'll see what we can do," the employee drawled in a bored manner. "Oh! No! Someone needs to get out here with another limo or the *boss* is going to have some heads. I've seen him when he gets angry and you all don't want to be around him when he gets that way. Why I remember one day when his pastrami sandwich had one too many onions on it and he threw it at the delivery boy and hit smack on the back of his head. Then there was the time that our mailman - he brought us the mail for fifteen years, bless his little postal heart - was just an hour late and we never saw the dear man again. I think he was reassigned to another route, but you never know about those things. And who could..." "Okay, miss! You made your point!" he blurted, anxious to stop this woman's senseless chatter. "I'll see what I can do. You said it's what license plate number?" "JD52197." Lois heard papers rustling on the other end of the line and crossed her fingers. "Yeah, here it is. Ms. Cooper. We'll have that replacement right away. Say... ten o'clock. Um... same place as before? Behind City Hall in the alleyway?" City Hall? Now she might be getting somewhere. "Yeah, same place. That'll do just fine." She hung up the phone in triumph. Looks like she needed to pay City Hall a visit and find out who this secretary, Ms. Cooper, worked for. ***** Clark sat down at his desk the next morning after going through the pleasantries of greeting and fielding questions from the morning crowd. The newsroom was still buzzing with their excitement and speculation about the new super hero. He'd been stopped many times on his way to his desk with inquiries on what the man-in-blue had been like during his exclusive. Anxious to read the city's, and the world's, reaction to Superman, as well as continuing his investigation of Platt's death, he waved his colleagues off as politely and quickly as possible. After his spin around the city last night, his last stop had been to check up on Lois. It had been around twelve- thirty when he hovered outside her window. A quick peek revealed that she was sound asleep and slightly snoring, he thought with a tiny smile, and was relieved that she had returned home safely. He didn't want to disturb her sleep as he did the night before. Instead he sat on top of the roof opposite from her apartment and waited for the street life to die down. Around two o'clock in the morning, his eyelids kept finding their way shut, so he called it a night and flew home. He hated to leave her so abruptly earlier that evening, but the news that Platt had been found floating in the bay produced a burning need to see if there was anything he could do to help. He would have to see her as soon as he found the time again - this new investigation promised to keep him busy for a while. While thumbing through his in-box, he found an urgent message from Bill Henderson waiting in the pile. He dialed the officer's number and it was picked up right away. "Bill? This is Clark Kent. Got your message." "Yeah, Clark. Glad you called. I need you down at Central Lockup right away. I questioned the Baines woman early this morning about Platt's death and it seems she only wants to talk to you." "She does? Why me? I've never spoken to her in person. She refused to see me during my investigation," Clark responded in a puzzled manner. He recalled that her attitude on the phone was rude and abrupt when he'd tried to contact her a few days earlier. "Get down here so you can ask her yourself," Henderson replied. "If she knows something, we want it, even if we have to use a nosy reporter." "Right, Bill. Guess we're forced to work together again." Clark smiled at the friendly sarcasm in the inspector's voice. "Be there as soon as I can." "Yeah. Meet me in the conference room afterwards. I'll arrange visitation. Just go directly to holding area and someone will let you in." "Bill? Why do the Feds still have her at Central? I thought she'd be in their custody?" "She's leaving later this morning. We're just holding her until the red tape guys decide who gets the pleasure of transporting her. That's why you need to get down here pronto." "Leaving now." After he hung up the phone, Clark finished his steaming coffee discreetly, then hurried out of the newsroom. ***** Luthor took the round about way through the City Hall complex over through the connecting corridors to the Metropolis' central lockup. It wasn't uncommon to see him wandering the huge complex's halls; he just didn't want to have to explain why he was visiting a Federal prisoner. He projected a steely look at the guard on duty at the holding area where Baines was being detained. The officer glanced away from his stare as he quietly opened the door and let the mayor in the secured area. Another insignificant puppet whose strings were easily pulled, Luthor noted as he proceeded down the empty hallway. An excellent mayor always knew his employee's strong and weak points, and Stan Brimley's Achilles heel was his little gambling habit that needed monetary support now and then. He was glad to see that Brimley had wisely chosen to assume guard duty instead of delegating it to someone else. It was satisfying to see that he was able to follow specific instructions - the surveillance cameras were off and the hall had been cleared. A small figure was curled up on her bunk. She was facing the wall and lay quietly on her side, but her mind was racing around in circles. Hot tears rolled across the bridge of her nose and pooled into the other eye, feeding the wet smear on the side of her face. Betrayal and abandonment was dominating her thoughts; even more than the criminal charges she was facing. The hope that Lex would somehow get her out of this mess had been rapidly replace by hurt, then anger, and foremost, that he'd made no attempt to contact her. After all she'd sacrificed for him, he was leaving her to rot in prison. That's what prompted her to contact this Clark Kent - the reporter responsible for her being here. If she was going to go down, then so was Lex. It was only fair. But it still hurt her deeply to betray the man she so desperately loved. The mayor placed his hands on the bars of Toni Baines' cell and grinned smugly. He changed his expression on his face to sympathy and concern before speaking. "Antoinette... tsskk... tsskk," he crooned softly. "What have we come to, my dear?" The woman in a bright orange jumpsuit stirred suddenly, then sat up after recognizing the voice she'd been longing to hear for the past couple of days. She sped quickly to the bars and gripped his hands tightly and whispered fiercely, "Lex? Oh, Lex! You've got to get me out of here!" His brows furrowed together and he leaned his forehead against bars. "I'm pulling out all the stops, my love." He kissed her hand and laid it against his cheek. "And I'm hopeful that you'll be free from your plight within the hour." "The hour! Oh, Lex! That can't be soon enough!" "Now don't you put worry lines on that gorgeous face; you'll be back in my bed before the day's end. I've missed you... " he said in a syrupy tone of voice. After kissing her hand again, he sighed, appearing distressed and shifting his feet. Delicate matters required perfect timing coupled with genuine concern. "Antoinette, there's something I need to ask you. It's of the utmost importance or I wouldn't bother you in your current state of distress." He brushed back her short blond hair clinging to the wet tears that streaked down her face. "It wasn't suppose to be this way, Lex," she said oblivious to his impending request. "Everything that we'd worked for... we were so close... " "We still are, my dear," Luthor said, trying to hide the shadow of annoyance that crossed his face. His lips twisted into a cynical smile as he continued to placate her fragile emotions. "Our plans are not ruined - just... hindered for the moment. Toni - you are still part of the team. I need you... " Tears glistened on her pale, heart-shaped face as she raised her eyes to his at last. "You still need me?" "Of course, love." He pulled a silk handkerchief from his suit pocket and pressed it in her hand. "Now... pull yourself together and listen to me." He waited until she'd cleaned the tears off her cheeks, then continued. "This element... this E-X that Platt was experimenting with - where is it?" A sudden icy contempt flashed in her now cold blue eyes as her tone became chilly with suspicion. "Is that why you're really here, Lex? To find that potential gold mine? I should've known that this little visit had a purpose behind it." "There have been complications," he said smoothly. "The incompetents who were hired to find the rock have failed to locate it. Now I have to find a needle in a haystack and have no idea where that deranged eccentric, Platt, has it hidden, because he is dead. Do you see why I need you to tell me if you know anything? Without E-X, our plans are limited." She spoke with bitterness, "Your plans, Lex. I've been rotting in this cell for two days without a single word from you. What did you expect me to think?" "My dear, you know what a high profile my position is in this city. I'm risking everything for you by just being here in this holding cell. Don't doubt my feelings for you; I'm here now." "Because you want something! I'm not a fool, Mr. *Mayor*," she hissed. "Don't play me for one!" Luthor drew a deep breath and shook his head in mock defeat. "All right! You win! I don't care if I ever find that abominable rock. If it causes you to doubt me, then it's not worth it." His hand snaked its way through the bars and cupped her cheek. "I'll get you out of this hell hole, then we'll make due with the operations already in place. It cuts me to the quick to see you look at me with such contempt. I'll make it up to you, I swear." Her anger evaporated, leaving only confusion in its wake. His quick brown eyes flashed pain and tenderness and her heart believed him the instant she saw the raw hurt rippling in his expression. "Yes, Lex," she whispered. "I... have a small piece of E- X." He fought to hide the excitement that was causing his blood to pound through his veins, yet barely skipped a beat as he continued contritely, "I don't care about it; just you, my love." His hand wound its way through her hair as he pulled her face close to the bars and showered her forehead with quick kisses. "It's in my apartment, taped underneath the sink in my bathroom," she confessed, closing her eyes to the touch of his lips. "Sshhh... how I wish I could see to your needs properly," he murmured against the limited amount of skin that the prison bars allowed him. "Later, my sweet," he said pulling away from her. "Now I need to see about your freedom." Pasting a weak smile on his lips, he lifted her face up to look directly into his. "The Feds will be transporting you shortly. Do not be alarmed, it's part of the plan; I've arranged to intercept you along the way. Don't say a word, just play the despondent jailbird and soon you'll be under my care again. Do you have faith in me?" "Yes, Lex, always," she answered, pushing away that nagging doubt about her lover that plagued her earlier. "Good girl," he said confidently. "Now dry your tears and get some sleep. I plan to keep you very busy tonight." Luthor moved away from the cell and walked backwards toward the exit, still holding her gaze with his own. "Lex!" she cried softly after him, heated from his smoldering look of passion. "I love you!" "Adieu! My love!" he mouthed silently, blew a kiss to her with a flourish. He hit the buzzer signaling the guard to open the door, then exited the holding area. Turning around after shutting the door, he was shocked to see that he was not alone. Besides Brimley's reception desk, another man was present in the small waiting room. ***** Having just walked up to the guard's reception desk, Clark immediately recognized Lex Luthor as he came through the holding cell's doorway. For a brief second, the mayor appeared to be a little flustered at nearly running into him, but just as quickly, the confusion left his face and his smooth composure was back in place. Something about Lex Luthor had always rubbed Clark the wrong way. He couldn't place his finger on it, but there was a manner or an air about him that was unsettling. Without any proof or even suspicion that the mayor was not who he appeared to be, Clark just preferred to avoid contact with him. Yet he kept his eyes open to Luthor's activities, observant to note any conflict of interest or chink in the sterling silver coat of armor that the public had built around him. He didn't want to follow the crowd and become another reporter to write glowing, all-is-well in Metropolis' Camelot administration articles. He simply didn't trust the man and preferred to watch him from the sidelines. Clark thought it was odd that the mayor of Metropolis would be down at the City Jail and he couldn't resist probing for some information. "Mr. Mayor," he addressed him coolly with a firm nod of his head. Luthor eyed the impressively built man in front of him but couldn't place him right away. He always prided himself on remembering names that belonged to faces, but for some reason, couldn't lay a finger on this man's identity. "Do I know you?" he asked, posturing himself into his mayoral stance - friendly, approachable, but with a tad of intimidation. "I think we were introduced around a year and a half ago after a press conference. Clark Kent, from the Daily Planet," he answered, his hand automatically extending outward in greeting. "Ah! The elusive Mr. Kent!" Luthor responded, his curiosity piqued, but then winced as his hand was squeezed firmly in an iron-hard clasp. "It's rather odd that I didn't recognize you from any publicity pictures from the Daily Planet." "That's my choice. I don't believe in letting the criminal element being able to readily identify me. If you were on the wrong side of the law, it would have worked today," Clark replied easily while gauging the mayor's reaction. "Very true. I was wondering just yesterday why the city's most respected journalist hadn't requested an exclusive interview from me. Or has this been an oversight on your part?" His tone was velvety, yet edged with a touch of contentiousness which made Clark choose his next words carefully. "Your administration is highly successful and the public loves you. I would just be going through the motions that other reporters have been through before me. Unless there is some deep, dark secret that you need to share? Let me ask you this - why would you want an interview from me? Your public relations department is doing an excellent job." "You underestimate yourself, Mr. Kent. Perhaps I'm tired of second rate, starry-eyed interns and long for the probing questions that only an award winning journalist like yourself can give me. That is, if you are worth those two Kerth awards on your shelf - unless it is *you* who is hiding something." Clark straightened his spine and released a dry laugh. "I get to the truth, Mayor; that means more to me than a shiny statue sitting on my bookshelf at home." "A true defender of truth and justice!" he announced in a glib manner. "It's an honorable profession you have chosen. So, should I assume from your not pursuing an interview that my administration is in your good graces?" "Appearances would seem to indicate that, Mr. Luthor," he said, exchanging a polite smile. "What you see is what you get, Kent. Although I intend to withhold my judgment on one subject which you hold favorable. I read your article on this new flying sensation, Superman. A bit on the outrageous side for your style, don't you think?" "Outrageous? Not at all. Investigative journalists don't want to expose just the bad side of the city. Surely you understand my wanting a more upbeat, encouraging story to report." "Of course, everyone deserves a little sunshine and roses in their life, but honestly, even roses have thorns." "No doubt that your administration takes exception to this rule," Clark replied, his eyes darkening slightly from the accusing undertones in Luthor's voice. "Touch,," Luthor responded, intrigued with this parry and thrust conversation. "Well said, Mayor. A thornless rose - perhaps you missed your calling as a man of words." "I'll leave the word crafting to you. Though I hope someday that you will challenge me with your journalism expertise - say... for the adventure of it; that is, if you're game?" "Perhaps, Mayor. Now that we've spoken unofficially, it would be almost rude to *not* follow up on a more in-depth conversation. If you'll excuse me, there's a more pressing interview I need to conduct." Clark nodded his head and stepped past the mayor up to the reception desk and spoke softly to Brimley, the guard. "Officer Henderson has arranged for me to visit with Dr. Baines." The watchman squirmed uneasily at Luthor's steely glare from behind the reporter. "Yes, Mr. Kent. I've just received the orders from the Chief. Through that door and down five cells to your right." A buzz sounded as the electronic lock to the holding area was released. Shrugging his shoulders as Clark disappeared through the door, Brimley whispered hoarsely, "Mr. Luthor, there was nothing I could do. The orders came straight from the top." After being abruptly dismissed by the reporter, the news that Baines was going to speak to the press sent a shock of white-hot anger through the mayor. A sudden, thin chill hung on the edge of Luthor's voice when he finally spoke, "You failed me, Brimley. You forget, I *am* the top." The frightened guard watched in silence as the mayor turned on his heels and strode purposefully out of the room. But his composure was not totally shaken; his lips pressed together in a twisted line as he carefully checked to see that the videotapes connected to the surveillance cameras were still running smoothly. ***** Although it was midmorning, hardly a soul was around when Lois glided up to the office door. She jimmied the lock deftly with a hairpin, wondering briefly if anyone ever used hairpins for their intended purpose. Sliding through the door, she locked it from the inside and looked around. She was in Lex Luthor's office - *Mayor* Lex Luthor. This was a huge risk that she was taking by breaking in his office in broad daylight, but after discovering that Ms. Cooper was the secretary for the mayor, curiosity got the best of her, and at the very least, she had to pass by and scope out the layout of the floor plan or strike up a casual conversation with the secretary. To her surprise, the secretary's desk was abandoned and the scheduling calendar for the mayor had penciled in today's date that he was out for the majority of the morning. The lock on the door was old; it hadn't been replaced yet during the remodeling, so Lois was confident that she could get in quickly. The next logical step was to ransack his office for any clue to his possible involvement and presence down on the docks. There were probably other ways she could have started her investigation, but she was desperate. The office was in somewhat of a disarray; the whole floor was being prepared for remodeling. Old furniture shoved aside along one wall, along with outdated books in open boxes, that were waiting to be carted away. She headed over to his desk and flipped swiftly through the files in his inbox. Deciding nothing incriminating would be so blatantly displayed, she worked to open the desk drawer. This proved a bit more laborious than the door, mainly because the desk was a newer model. Finally, the lock clicked and the drawer slid open. After a quick survey of the file labels, she pushed the drawer closed. Nothing but city related items - boring, if you're looking for dirt. Panic set in when the doorknob started to rattle as the sound of a metal key clicked against the old iron lock. She scurried to the other side of the room and squeezed into the space between the wall and an old desk in order to hide in the space below. Lois held her breath as she heard the door open and someone, a man she assumed from the heavy sound of his steps, strode into the room and sat at the desk. She was trapped. There was nowhere to escape, but at least she was out of sight. The old desk's front panel was solid except for a horizontal split in the wood. Lowering her head, she placed her eye against the fissure in the wood and discovered a view of the room from about mid level down. Since the angle from the crack didn't allow her to confirm his identity, she presumed it was the mayor in the room. Maybe her predicament wasn't as dire as she first thought; this hideaway could give her the advantage of perhaps gleaning some tidbits for her story. Adjusting her body to a more comfortable position, Lois leaned her head back against the hard surface and waited. ***** Clark was surprised to see Toni Baines' state of being. She was an extremely attractive woman; even more so than she had appeared on television, but it was obvious she'd been crying for a while; her eyes were red and puffy and her hair was disheveled in a tangled mess. She looked at him disinterestedly as he cleared his throat to get her attention. "Dr. Baines, I received your message that you wanted to talk to me. I'm Clark Kent." "So what? I have nothing to say to you," she said bitterly. "Inspector Henderson called me a half an hour ago and said that you wanted to speak only to me. Is there something you need to talk about?" Clark asked, but his hopes were dashed at the scowl that crossed her face. "I couldn't resist jerking the chains of those who put me here, Kent," she said sharply. "Perhaps seeing what you have done to *my* life will give you a few sleepless nights." Clark chose to ignore her remark and continued his line of questioning. "Dr. Baines, there was another bomb found on the Prometheus yesterday. Do you know anything about it? Are there more people involved who are still running free? Your time in prison could be reduced if you turn evidence against them. Many people could have been hurt yesterday; you don't seem to be the type of person who'd want that." Her heart nearly turned over in response to the warmth and sincerity in the handsome reporter's deep brown eyes. Another time, another place, she could have found herself extremely attracted to his boyish charm and obvious good looks, but *he* was the man responsible for getting her arrested. She had found hope from Lex's visit and needed to cling to it and him, in spite of the doubts that had plagued her earlier. "Sorry, Kent. You've wasted a trip. I just want to be left alone," she said, eyeing him with cold triumph. The buzzer sounded from the door at the end of the hall, and three armed guards swiftly covered the distance to her cell. "Time to deal with Uncle Sam, Baines," one said as he opened her cell door. Clark watched as they cuffed and led her from her cell to exit at the other end of the hallway. He turned to leave, but out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a white cloth on the floor lying near the steel bars. After retrieving it, he saw that it was a man's silk handkerchief with the initials "LL" embroidered in one corner. His jaw clenched in determination as he realized he'd found a lead and the incentive to go after Lex Luthor at last. Perhaps after he'd talked to Henderson, he'd make his way over to City Hall to pay the mayor an official visit. ***** Time drifted onward with Luthor not showing any signs of wanting to leave, nor was there any information that could be useful for a story. Just polite phone calls, mixed in with minor city problems that were easily solved over the phone. Her body was getting uncomfortable from sitting in the same position for so long, but she didn't dare move or try to rearrange herself, for fear of giving herself away. It was going to be a long day, and in spite of her seating arrangement, Lois could feel herself drifting off to sleep. Allowing herself to doze lightly, her mind stayed semi- alert as thoughts began to swirl in her head. She'd always been impressed by Luthor's track record as mayor of Metropolis. He was a popular and well-liked politician and was known for sticking up for the middle and lower classes. His attendance could always be counted on at charitable balls and benefits for the underprivileged. Shuddering inwardly at the memory of one of those events, she remembered the one time that she'd been present at a bachelor auction to raise money for the new children's museum. Lex Luthor had been one of the eligible men to be auctioned - the handsome politician was highly sought after - and the bids for him drew top dollar. But Luthor wasn't the cause of her disturbing memory. Claude was also one of the men on the block to be bid upon that night. She had specifically gone to the event with high hopes of winning a date with him. She'd been admiring him from a distance for months at the Metropolis Star and had finally pulled together enough resolve - and money - to place a bid. That night was the beginning of their relationship, she recalled bitterly. After a few persistent bids, his eyes found hers in the crowd and didn't stray until the gavel pounded the final blow announcing that she'd won her date with the handsome reporter. Everything changed between them from that moment on. The following days and weeks were a blur to her as she and Claude Devereaux fell in love - or at least what she thought was love. She had finally gained respect from her coworkers and threw herself into her work with determination to live up to her new status. It was a magical time for her, all the way up to his betrayal. After he slept with her and stole the story that she'd banked her career hopes on, she could have dealt with the fallout of a broken relationship and moved on with her life, but another cruel blow was dealt to her. The events of the next couple of days were too much to handle and she'd left town feeling crushed and hurt. A knock from the door caused her to become fully awake and she immediately pulled her drifting thoughts together. A secretary's voice - and where had she heard it before? - announced the unexpected arrival of Clark Kent to see the mayor. Clark Kent!! Not him again! She bit her bottom lip in an effort to keep from uttering a grunt of disgust and frustration. After Luthor granted the secretary permission to show him in, she was caught off-guard at the sudden vibrancy of the voice that filled the room. Something about it almost clicked inside her mind, but then again, the secretary had sounded vaguely familiar to her also. It was probably her over-active imagination acting up again, and she dismissed the thought quickly as the two men began talking. "Mr. Mayor, I'm glad you found the time to see me," Clark greeted from the doorway. "Twice in one day. I'm honored, Clark," Luthor answered, rising from his seat to extend his hand in greeting. "What has prompted this most pleasurable visit?" "I took a chance and hoped we could continue our talk that we started this morning. I apologize for having to rush out on you earlier, but I did have an appointment to keep," Clark said, putting forth his most courteous smile. "Ah, an interview with Antoinette Baines. Lovely woman. It's unfortunate that greed and power were too much of a temptation for her. I trust your interview went well?" "I guess you'll have to read about it in the Daily Planet tomorrow," Clark answered, as he tried to rate Luthor's reaction. "Perhaps alongside the exclusive I hope to have with you, Mayor?" The phone buzzed and Luthor nodded his apology at being interrupted, then answered his call. Having been given a breather from the break in their conversation, Lois was puzzled. This wasn't the voice of the Clark Kent she had met at the Daily Planet yesterday. This voice was confident, yet sensual, and sent a disturbing ripple of awareness through her body each time he spoke. She lowered her head a few inches to the crack in order to confirm her suspicions. Peering through the minuscule slit in the wood, a pair of legs clad in dark blue slacks sat in a chair about three feet away. The rich outline of his thighs strained against the soft fabric of his pants and she noted that they obviously belonged to a fairly tall man, at least six feet tall. Her gaze drifted up to find a crisp, white shirt covering what appeared to be a strong, muscular chest - and a rather striking tie. The limited view the crack offered stopped there. Lois was slightly disappointed that her angle from the tiny window was so restricted, but at least her hunch was correct - this was *not* the man she had met yesterday. She would have recognized *this* male physique anywhere. Lois leaned her back against the hard wood once more. So who was the scrawny creep sitting in Clark Kent's chair? And why was she getting butterflies in her stomach at the sound of this man's voice? Stuffing that bothersome thought away, she dismissed it as mere curiosity. Better yet, satisfaction knowing that the Daily Planet did not esteem a socially challenged moron as its finest. That was it! Her faith was restored in the reputation of the city's most respected paper. Clark welcomed the interrupting phone call because it gave him a chance to get the feel of Luthor's office and observe the man quietly for a short time. He wondered about the handkerchief he found in Baines' cell and its implications - that Luthor was somehow involved with her. Was it actually possible that he was connected to the second bomb on the Prometheus yesterday? It was apparent by the one-sided conversation that Clark was privy to that Luthor was making him wait while he chatted social pleasantries with a prominent businessman. Snatches of light-hearted talk referring to the upcoming Orchid Ball didn't seem suspicious enough to justify the use of his powers. During a long pause in the dialogue, he activated his super hearing for a brief moment to confirm that the topic hadn't strayed. At once, a familiar heartbeat filled his head and his mouth almost fell open in surprise. Lois? Was she here? Discreetly, he lowered his glasses to look through the only possible place she could be hiding - under the old wooden desk a few feet away. She was hugging her knees close to her body, biting her lower lip, appearing confused and a tiny bit frazzled. What was she doing here in Lex Luthor's office? His heart immediately jumped to the conclusion that maybe Luthor was someone in her past and she was checking up on him in some attempt to resurrect their relationship. The thought that Luthor and Lois shared some history together alarmed him. If that were the case, then why would she be hiding here of all places? She did have a gift for finding trouble; it worried him that getting caught for breaking and entering could land her in jail. He'd have to make sure she was delivered from this latest dilemma safely. Considering his growing suspicions of Luthor recently, he wouldn't doubt that he had a hand in the reason why Lois was here hiding. Luthor concluded his telephone conversation and smiled boldly at his visitor with renewed confidence. Through prearranged code, it was confirmed that the obligation that Steve Bauer, a new upstart in the computer industry, owed him had been fulfilled. The situation with Dr. Baines had been eradicated and he had just received affirmation that she was no longer a loose end to tie up. Just as well that a *reporter* was here to confirm his alibi at the time of Baines' untimely death. With any luck, Kent would receive a call from the Daily Planet concerning this latest development and he would be able to play the part of a shocked and horrified mayor. The intercom buzzed just as he was about to resume the conversation and he answered, "Yes, Ms. Cooper? What is it?" The box spoke in a tinny tone, "The movers are here to take away the old furniture. Shall I have them come back later or wait for you to finish?" "Give me five minutes." Luthor then turned to Clark who was suddenly stirring uneasily in his chair. "Interruptions... it's all part of the daily routine, but I'll be glad to be rid of all this clutter." "All in a day's work," Clark answered distractedly as his mind began to race. Time was running out and he had to get Lois out of here before she was discovered. Five minutes - at least there were a few moments to think of something. "What spurs you to seek an interview from me now, Clark?" Luthor asked directly, his almost black eyes intense with a penetrating gaze. Clark knew he had to keep his composure and not be shaken. "Let's say our encounter earlier has inspired me, mayor," he responded coolly. "I believe I would find our conversation to be enlightening." "How so?" "All your humanitarian contributions, for example. You go beyond the call of duty," he stated. "I'd like to find out what drives you in that area, Mr. Luthor." "It's really quite simple; I was an orphan, Kent. I've had to claw my way twice as hard as the next person. I understand the little person." "Even the prisoners in jail, Mayor? That's quite a humbling experience." "Ah! You're curious as to the reason for my presence in the City Jail. Why didn't you ask me directly?" "Would you have answered?" "You see the renovations going on around you, Mr. Kent?" Luthor waved his hand around the room. "I wish to extend those plans and was merely getting a first hand account of the conditions." "Your generosity is amazing, Mr. Luthor," Clark observed. "Even the criminal element holds your concern." "I try to treat all the citizens of Metropolis equally. Those that are incarcerated today will one day be put back into society, and also, become taxpayers. I want to leave them with a favorable impression of my administration." Under the desk, Lois chewed nervously on a piece of her hair as the men conversed. How could Kent be so calm when she was about to be caught? Time was ticking and she had no idea how to explain why she was under the mayor's old desk. There was no place for her to crawl to safety, at least she didn't think so. Her only hope was that the room would be vacated for a short time so she could make a run for it. The phone intercom buzzed once more - this time announcing Luthor's next appointment. Smiling apologetically, he said, "Sorry, Kent, but I need to meet with Representative Williams. I've already rescheduled him twice this week." Pressing the intercom button once more, he spoke, "Show Mr. Williams to the conference room; we'll meet in there. Also, let the movers come in." Sliding his chair backwards in order to stand up, Luthor was now in full commandeering mode. "Kent, if it's convenient for you, come back at one o'clock and we'll have that interview." He stood up from his chair and motioned Clark towards the door. Clark nearly panicked at the abrupt turn the events were taking. He couldn't leave Lois alone to fend for herself. "Um... Mayor? Would you allow me to make a few phone calls here in your office? I need to clear my schedule for our interview this afternoon. It will only take a few moments." The secretary stuck her head inside the door again, and interrupted, "Mayor, that conference call with Judge Manning is on hold for you and Mr. Williams..." "Yes, Rose. I'll be there. Very well, Mr. Kent, as you wish," he blurted on his way out the door but paused briefly to whisper fiercely into the secretary's ear, "Watch him!" Clark grinned to himself as he heard Luthor's orders to his assistant. There was definitely a second side to the Mayor's smooth and gregarious public personality. More importantly, Luthor was out of the way and he now had bought some time in order to help Lois get out of her sticky predicament. A couple of burly men entered the office to remove the furniture. Clark stood to his feet and edged close to the desk protectively. An old bookcase leaned up against one side of desk and would have to be moved first in order to make room for the solid piece of furniture to pass through. The secretary popped her head in the door and asked, "Mr. Kent? Would you care for some coffee?" "Um... no thank you. I'm trying to quit," he replied a little bit too quickly. The movers were already out the door with a chair and a couple of boxes, and it wouldn't be long before they'd be back to grab something else. Ms. Cooper was eyeing him a little bit too long for his comfort. He pulled out his cell phone and placed a fake call to Jimmy. "Yeah, Jimmy. I need you to call... Mr. Pendleton and see if we can set up another time. Sure, I'll be in later this afternoon. Thanks, Jimmy," he ended his impromptu soliloquy as the secretary disappeared through the doorway. Good! No movers and no Ms. Cooper; now it was time to get Lois out of here. Then he hesitated realizing *who* it would be that would be helping Lois. He'd be meeting her for the first time as Clark Kent, not Kal. It didn't take long for him to run into her in his real identity. Would she recognize him? A little bit of uncertainty made him frown. Why *was* she here? She was supposed to be looking for a job and this was highly unusual behavior for any one, even Lois. Unless she was a criminal, but he dismissed that thought as quickly as it popped into his mind. This was a situation created out of desperation or just plain being caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Should he run out of here as Clark and return as Kal? Just to be sure? No! He trusted her; he was going to give her his wallet last night! Trusting her was something he needed to believe in. Moving around to the side of the desk, he knelt down and grasped the edge of the desk to move it. "Mr. Kent!" Rose Cooper said loudly as she walked into the room once more. He jumped up quickly to stand in front of the desk and smiled innocently at her. "Yes?" "Did you lose something?" she asked politely. "No... just admiring this old desk. Too bad the front panel is damaged, but it will be a nice restoration project for some antique hunter." He hoped that Lois wasn't panicking yet and wanted to let her know that he was trying to help her. "Not anytime soon. All this junk is going into storage until they can redistribute it." "Oh, too bad..." "If you are through with your phone calls, Mr. Kent, I think that..." "Maybe I will have that cup of coffee. If you don't mind..." Clark cleared his throat as he tried to stall for more time. "Uh... dust... and things..." Pulling on his tie, he smiled broadly at her again and sat down in his chair before she could usher him out of the room. Rose eyed him suspiciously, then left the office. Clark glanced through the door, but nearly let out an audible groan when he saw the movers walking through the reception area. When was he going to get a break? He lowered his glasses to check on Lois. She was facing away from him, on her hands and knees, peeking around the back side of the desk, wiggling restlessly like one of his barn cats that was about to pounce on some unsuspecting prey. He tugged on his tie again, feeling a bit warm from the view that Lois was unknowingly providing for him. With cats, their little hindquarters dance was amusing; with Lois, however, her restless movements were an exercise in cardiac control. Tearing his eyes away reluctantly, he scolded himself for letting his attention wander - however pleasant it was - away from the situation. No, Lois! He couldn't let her out of that hiding place just yet; the movers and Ms. Cooper would be coming back any second and there was no place to go where she wouldn't be seen by either of them except for behind Luthor's new desk. *That* was not an option either, especially if he returned anytime soon. Opening up his notepad, he scribbled a quick note, then wadded it up into a ball. The two movers lumbered into the room, pulling their dollies behind them. Clark nodded his head at them and after their attention was diverted back to their tasks, he surreptitiously glanced over the top of his glasses to take aim. A quick prayer was offered up with hope that his strategy wouldn't backfire and send her leaping forward into plain view. He lobbed the ball of paper skillfully, striking Lois on her bottom. Bull's eye! He smothered a grin at her mixed look of surprise, then disgust at being pegged on that part of her anatomy. For some reason, he found her displeasure amusing as she scurried back under the desk, scowling and appearing as though she wanted to strangle him. Lois crossed her legs and settled back into her hideaway with a frown on her face. Just when she was thinking about making a run for more stable cover, she got hit on the behind with a ball of paper. Leave it to Kent to get her all flustered and spoil whatever chance she had of escaping by being such a horrible shot, or even worse - a litterbug. His habit of interfering in her life was as about as welcome as a run in a pair of brand new nylons. She threw an irritated glance at the paper wad, irked by its mere existence, as it lay next to her. On impulse, she reached over and picked it up. The movers were creating a lot of noise while they were loading up some other piece of junk, so she took a small risk of creating too much of her own and uncrumpled the paper slowly. Maybe there were some notes on Luthor or some other small bit of information that she could learn about Kent who, as she couldn't let herself forget, was the competition. Leaning out of the shadow of the desk, she thrust the paper into the thin, barely readable light next to the wall. It merely read: Sit tight. I'll help you out. CK She dropped the note down into her lap and blankly stared ahead. Oh, my gosh! How did he know she was here? Was she *that* obvious, or noisy? Unless he saw movement through the broken front of the desk. That had to be it - his chair wasn't that far away and he *was* examining this old piece of junk a few minutes ago. So what was he up to? If he knew she was under the desk, could he have slipped a note to Luthor informing him that an intruder was hiding in his office? The mayor could be calling the police at this very moment. Maybe Kent thought that by pretending to be on her side, she'd let down her guard and then he would call her bluff. Afterwards he and Luthor would stand by laughing and nudging each other in jovial camaraderie while the police cuffed and took her away. On the other hand thinking back to their conversation earlier, that scenario seemed highly improbable. Although Kent sounded friendly enough when he was talking to the Mayor, there was enough tension in the air to walk on. No, she didn't think that Kent was in cahoots with Luthor. So, if he was not trying to set her up, then what was his angle? Why would he want to help someone he didn't know? Unless he had a hidden agenda that would be sprung on her once he helped her get out. Not likely - he's a reporter; they're always out for themselves. No, she shouldn't rely on him. She was smarter than that and needed to make her own plans. Hugging her legs close to her body, she rested her chin on her knees and frowned. Who cared if the man had always been one step ahead of her for the past couple of days? Who cared if he was now trying to help her out of a tiny little predicament she was perfectly capable of handling herself? She most certainly did not. Least important, what did it matter if the sound of his voice sent an unwelcome stream of excitement through her? Absolutely nothing. Peeking out of the crack once more, she wished she could tell him to leave her alone. Writing a note back to him probably wouldn't work; she didn't see how it could be delivered discreetly. The paper was crumpled and it wouldn't slide easy under the front panel. Sending it through the crack might work, but with her luck, the movers would see it first and her jig would be up. Plus, she needed a pen. What about whispering to him through the same opening? Knowing that she was under here, he was probably staying alert. She'd have to speak loud enough through the wood for him to be able to hear clearly. Once again, someone else might intercept her attempt at communication. Morse code! Any reporter worth his byline *had* to know Morse code! What if you got trapped in a collapsed building or became shipwrecked in an overturned ocean liner? You'd have to be able to send a message to your rescuers by beating on pipes or sheets of steel. Tapping noises in an office building was common; people were always pounding on keyboards or drumming their pencils. If Kent was as smart as he was supposed to be, he could think of a cover-up for any odd noise that came from her direction. Yeah! And let him hold something over her head? It was far better to try to send him away and only allow him help if there was no other choice. Sounds from the movers were more distant and muted now. Judging from the ripping screech of strapping tape and knives tearing through cardboard, she concluded that they were boxing the discarded books on the old shelves. They'd be there for a few more minutes and might not be able to hear her message to Kent over their noise. Clark realized that his reasons for staying here were being stretched thin. After his cup of coffee, he would be expected to leave. Ms. Cooper appeared to have been delayed, for several minutes had passed since she'd left the room. Thank goodness for small favors. His latest check on Lois revealed her to be quiet and still, but the expression on her face told him that her mind was racing a mile a minute. What he wouldn't give to get inside her thoughts for just a moment! On second thought, he'd probably be ripped up and down if that scowl she threw his way just now was any clue to what she was thinking. Maybe he should have signed the note as Kal. She didn't appear like she was going to be very cooperative since she thought she didn't know him. But it was much more amusing this way. Lois had been so insistent last night that she'd know him in his other identity, he was actually looking forward to meeting her as Clark Kent. If he told her who he was now then they would always speculate, and probably argue, about who would have won the bet. As he continued to watch her, a look of determination crossed her features as she suddenly turned her face towards the inside wall of the desk and began tapping lightly, but very insistently against it with her fingernail. Six series of taps, then she stopped for a moment and began again. It took Clark only a second to comprehend that she was trying to communicate in Morse code. Her message was to the point: Go away. Okay. Two could play at this game. Dropping his pencil on the floor, he used the motion of picking it up as a cover to lean closer to the desk. He shot back, "No," and let out a tiny cough to cover his answer. Once upright in his chair, he tapped another message out with his pen on the edge of the mayor's desk: You need me. Gritting her teeth, Lois shot another loathing glare in his general direction while answering back: Do not. Before Clark could beat out another retort with his writing utensil, Ms. Cooper returned to the room with his Styrofoam cup of coffee. Folding his hands in his lap, he coughed a warning to Lois as he waited for the secretary to approach him. She handed him his beverage, but instead of leaving the room, she leaned against the edge of her boss's desk, folded her arms and stared at him. Rose Cooper was a formidable woman. Tall and rangy, yet she had a strength and a command about her that did not lessen her femininity. Her straight brown hair was pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail at the nape of her neck and her squarish face was scrubbed clean of make-up. Her green eyes were sharp and accessing and it was difficult determining her motives. An attractive woman in her own right; but Clark knew she was definitely not his type nor one that he wanted to cross swords with. The only woman for him was three feet away and in threat of getting into trouble, and he was not going to allow that to happen even if he had to stretch the truth a bit. The movers left with their current load of boxes and the bookcase leaving them alone. She pasted on a smile of nonchalance and confronted him. "Okay, Mr. Kent! Why are you stalling?" Rose's eyes narrowed speculatively as she spoke to him calmly. "Stalling? I'm not stalling," Clark said smoothly. "I was waiting for this coffee and didn't want to appear rude or ungrateful after requesting it. So after I down this, I'll be on my way." "If you're sure that's all, Mr. Kent," she returned doubtfully. Clark rapidly blew tiny puffs of air into his coffee cup. "What else could it be?" He waved his hand towards the door and stared at her innocently. "As soon this cools..." "I'm going to have to insist that you take it with you. This is not in compliance with our office rules. Now... " "Actually, I have a confession to make; my cell phone battery died and I had to use the Mayor's phone to check on my, uh... Cheese of the Month shipment. It's two days late," Clark blurted, instantly wincing at the flimsy excuse. "Mold and things... not good," he added for extra measure. "I'm waiting for them to call me back." Rolling her eyes, she looked at him dubiously, but was alerted to the phone ringing out in the reception area. As she opened her mouth to speak, Clark interrupted her, "You better get that; it might be for me." Not bothering to reply, Rose walked briskly past him, but not before throwing him another watchdog glare as she marched out of the room. After she disappeared from view, Clark released a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. Turning this attention back to Lois, he said softly, "It's clear. You can come out now." "Like I'm going to do that while *you're* still here! Didn't you hear me? Go away!" an irritated voice insisted from inside the desk. "Don't be so stubborn. We don't have much time," he answered while rising to his feet and walked around the desk's side to help her out. Impeccable timing as always, the movers burst into the room and headed straight for the desk. Clark moved to the side close to the wall and grabbed a corner. "Here, guys, let me help you," he offered and slid the desk away from the wall about two feet, then moved into the space in order to create some cover for Lois. "That's okay, man. We got it. Can't let you help because of liability regulations," one of the men stated as the other mover grabbed the other end. Just as they were beginning to hoist it, Clark placed an index finger on the edge and left it there. The men strained and lifted but the piece of furniture was held firmly in place. "Sure you don't want any help, guys?" Clark innocently asked the red-faced men as they cussed under their breath. "Naaa... we'll get some help from the dudes down the hall," said the same worker who answered Clark before. Then to the other mover, he commanded, "Go get the toolbox. We might have to take this sucker apart." At last they were alone and Clark moved quickly to the desk one more time to pull it a few more inches away from the wall. At first he couldn't see Lois, but almost burst out laughing when he found her up near the top of the desk. She had 'walked' up the two inside walls and was crammed near the far upper corners, probably hoping she could be carted out with the desk. He crouched lower so that he could make eye contact with her and coax her out. Lois felt the desk move, and the darkness from his shadow receded, but the florescent lighting streaming in was no competition for the one thousand megawatt smile that greeted her. The shock of discovery hit her full force and she landed on the floor with a hard thump on her bottom. He was... he was... ... a god in glasses!! Lois was thunderstruck; he was absolutely gorgeous! His face came into focus, revealing classically handsome features, smooth olive skin, and impeccably groomed hair - except for an unruly lock that was falling forward as he bent over to assist her. A faint light twinkled in those dark eyes laying beneath a pair of wired-rimmed glasses, completing a look of flawlessness with a touch of imperfection - a tiny clue that he wasn't from another world, but approachable with a hint of vulnerability. He chuckled softly while taking her hand and helped extract her from the hiding place. The warmth of his smile echoed in his voice as he said softly, "Let's get you out of here." As she looked at him, he stood up and his height seemed to reach to forever as he pulled her effortlessly to her feet. He brushed a strand of sticky cobwebs from her face, his mere touch sending a surprising shiver through her. Feeling a gentle tug on her hand, Lois mindlessly let herself be led around the desk and across the room. She tried to throttle back the dizzying reaction to the solid grip of his hand on hers. She knew she should be protesting, but her legs moved on their own accord. In a trance, she followed the broad muscular back so close to her face, spellbound by the ease in which his muscles played beneath his white shirt. Although it seemed like an eternity until they reached the door, the trip ended way too soon. Lois bumped her nose against his shoulder as her legs kept moving when he stopped to peek out into the hallway. While Clark was leading Lois to the exit, he was still smiling from her reaction. As soon as their eyes had met, the look on her face was priceless. The heavy lashes that shadowed her cheeks had flown up in surprise as her body released its grip on the inside of the desk and dropped down to the floor. Her response surprised him, yet left little doubt that she had recognized him. He was relieved that it happened so soon and glad that all the secrecy concerning his identity was about to be over. Oh no! His bad luck continued to hold out for he saw Rose Cooper rounding the corner of her reception desk heading straight for them. There wasn't enough time to hide Lois again; they would have to make this work somehow. Only one plan came to mind in the second he had to think about it. More than likely he'd come up with several ways out of this quandary later, but as for now, this was the most logical, if not the most pleasant, solution. Surprise turned into determination on his face, and he turned around to face Lois. His hands grasped her shoulders, and in one forward motion, she was in his arms. For a brief instant, his eyes softened and a tender smile played on his face before whispering, "Trust me." His words were smothered as his lips covered hers. Her arms flailed in weak protest against his shoulders before giving up their halfhearted fight. Whatever rational thoughts she owned after emerging from her hideaway were shattered as her subconscious demanded a response to the velvet warmth of his kiss. Time stood still, as she instinctively reacted to the whisper of sensations stirring inside her. It was a heady rush to feel her body molded against his, her soft curves yielding against his hard chest and her lips sweet upon his. He felt a twinge of guilt when she protested for a couple of seconds at first, but now her arms had stopped objecting and he could swear she was beginning to kiss him back. The door opened suddenly and Rose Cooper walked into the office. It took Clark a couple of moments to break off the kiss, but he still held her loosely in his arms. Gathering up his scattering wits, he grinned apologetically at the secretary as he swung Lois around to face the exit. "Sorry, Ms. Cooper. She follows me everywhere and can't keep her hands to herself." Ushering Lois out of the door by her elbow, there was a trace of laughter in his voice as he said, "She's leaving now." "Hey! What is *she* doing here?" Rose demanded loudly as her whole professional demeanor evaporated. "You're not the only guy she can't keep her hands off of!" Leaning over Lois' shoulder, he murmured in her ear quickly, "Go before she asks more questions." Then for the benefit of Rose, he spoke louder, "Later, my little tornado. Don't forget where we left off, pumpkin." Clark kissed her quickly on the cheek, while propelling her forward. After gaining momentum, he released her and watched her wobble down the hall. Around the corner, Lois stopped to regain her bearings. Exactly *what* had happened?!! Was she dreaming or had she just been thoroughly kissed by a Greek god? Her lips still tingled from his touch so she couldn't have imagined it. , she thought as the blood drained from her face. She had been kissed by Clark Kent, the Daily Planet's reporter! What a kiss it had been! She almost had to hold on the wall as she staggered down the hallway after being sent on her way. Even in remembrance, the intimacy of his lips against hers sang in her veins... And he had saved her! Like a guardian angel, he had stuck with and protected her even when she had rejected his gesture of assistance, even though they were perfect strangers. He had created a ruse to fool the secretary and now she was walking free. Her feeble attempt to sneak out by crab walking up the sides of the desk was doomed to fail anyway; the desk apparently was so heavy that the workers were going to have to take it apart and then they would have discovered her. She knew there were reasons she should be suspicious of him but for now that logic had flown out the window. If he had an agenda, wouldn't he have raced after her and stated his demands? Instead, he had let her go and remained behind to field any questions that the secretary threw at him. Not even knowing her name, he choose to shield her from the movers and create a cover for her. Not only was he drop-dead gorgeous, but a hero in a colorful tie and glasses. She sighed and leaned her head against the wall to prop it up. Bobby Bigmouth had definitely underestimated him when he said that Clark Kent was a great guy; he was... *wonderful*! Clark's gaze lingered as she grew smaller in his sight down the corridor. He realized their close encounter had left his ears ringing and his knees a bit shaky. His amazement was then shattered by Rose's next comment. "That's the same woman I caught with my husband last night. Good luck to you, Mr. Kent; you'll need it!" ***** Lois shoveled another spoonful of Double Fudge Brownie ice cream into her mouth while staring mindlessly at the napkin holder. Creamy Creations Ice Cream Parlor was the first intelligent concept to stick to her brain cells since wandering out of City Hall. The moment she saw the ice cream cone on the store's sign, she knew what she wanted - comfort food and a place to contemplate. She didn't like being caught off guard the way she had been earlier. Now it was time to rationalize and explain why she had totally short- circuited over Clark Kent. The weak-in-the-knees feeling was fairly easy to resolve - her legs were simply getting used to walking again after being cramped from sitting for a while. Being weak from hunger could have had a part in it also. The second serving of a triple scoop sundae was almost gone - testimony that she had been practically starving. It was a fluke. A one-time innate reaction to a handsome face. This was insane! What happened to the levelheaded person she was yesterday? One brief encounter and she was reduced to behaving like a star-struck teenager. Surely this was just infatuation on her part and in a little while she'd only remember their kiss as another way out of a sticky situation. Oh, but what a kiss! It all had happened so quickly, yet every detail of his face, every touch of his hands and body were so real to her. The manner in which he confidently took charge as he gathered her in his strong arms took her breath away. Right before their lips met, she could swear the expression on his face was tender and passionate, even a little apologetic as he whispered to her, 'trust me'. Trust. Now there was a loaded word, but it wasn't really an issue at this point. You had to know someone before you could trust them and the only thing she knew about Clark Kent was that he was an awesome kisser, gorgeous guy and an unsung hero - to her anyway. What she needed to do was to confront him again. If she let this brew, he would only end up larger than life in her memory. Maybe seeing him again would dispel any schoolgirl crush that was starting to take root. And no one could be *that* good looking! He more than likely had a wart on the end of his nose or was cross-eyed or wore a toupee. Other than the fact that he was a man, there had to be some other flaw she'd missed. He was going back to Luthor's office at one o'clock for his interview. Since she was still under the guise of being his girlfriend, or groupie, she thought wryly, simply waiting for him afterwards wouldn't arouse too much suspicion. At the thought of seeing him so soon again, she gulped down the remainder of her ice cream to calm the nervous tingle in the pit of her stomach. This was not a good sign! Lois glanced at the clock on the wall of the ice cream parlor and it read five minutes to one. Oh no! Had she actually been sitting here for over ninety minutes and had eaten two bowls of ice cream? She must have because the bill had been sitting on the table for quite a while and the waitress was beginning to throw annoying looks her way. She'd better get over there fast if she was going to catch him. After slapping down some bills with a generous tip, she ventured out onto the street and headed for City Hall once again. ***** As she paused in the same spot in the hallway where she'd rested earlier, Lois hoped that this feeling in her gut wasn't a precursor to getting an ulcer. In the past few days since returning to Metropolis, her stomach nerves had been getting quite a workout. It was only right that she should return to the scene of the kiss... er, crime - Clark Kent seemed to have stolen her sanity for the moment. This had to be a throwback to the days of high school crushes. The last time she'd felt anywhere near this silly about a member of the opposite sex was, let's see... Claude. Oh no! Not another Claude! Cla-ude! Cla-rk! They even had the first three letters in their names alike. Not another hotshot reporter! How did she manage to get herself in another situation like this again! Why didn't she see this coming? Of course she couldn't see this coming; she was too busy hiding under Luthor's desk and was blindsided by his dazzling smile... muscular body... and warm lips. But wait. Claude never would have helped her out. He would have exposed her immediately to the mayor and turned the incident into a headline for the next edition of the Metropolis Star. Either that, or he would have followed her out of the building and demanded some kind of payment of gratitude. Clark was so much better looking than *that* poor excuse of a reporter. Clark had more decency in his little finger than Claude Devereaux had in his whole body. Clark... Lois bit her lip in an attempt to stop her runaway thoughts. Clark. She was thinking of him on a first name basis now. Not 'Kent' any longer, but just Clark. If she was still back at the ice cream parlor, all the napkins in the holder would probably have his name scrawled all over them. This teenage crush she had for him needed to be dealt with soon or there was no telling where her imagination would take her. So why was she even here? What was she going to say to him? Simply spying on him could work too, *and* save her the embarrassment of blubbering in front of him like an idiot. No, she'd had her fill of spying on people today. With his uncanny investigative skills, she could find herself in an even more mortifying position than this morning's caper. If she was ever going to get her head straight about that Adonis, she had to face him nose to nose... eyeball to eyeball... face to gorgeous face... lip to... Okay. I'll try to stop drooling. No promises though. Her stomach was feeling a little queasy again. Not a nervous kind of queasy, but a jittery, nauseous kind of queasy. Too much ice cream. Her hands were shaking and the sudden need to sit down was almost overwhelming. Knowing her luck, she would find Clark again and would lose her stomach's contents the moment she saw those dark eyes behind his glasses. Not an ideal first official introduction. Maybe if she just took a drink of water and sat down on that bench across the hall, she could will this upset stomach to go away. Lois sat down and realized that Clark would have to pass this way to leave the building. Since it was already after one o'clock, the interview with Luthor should be taking place now. Perhaps if she closed her eyes for just a few minutes and rested nonchalantly until it was over, when he came out of the office, he would recognize her as the stowaway he'd just rescued. That way if he really wanted to speak to her, it would be his choice and she wouldn't be forcing herself on him. Nothing like reverting back to the days of being conveniently placed in a strategic location to see your dream guy. She was confident that she could come up with an on-the-spot explanation of *why* she was lounging in City Hall in the middle the afternoon. Now that the manner of course was thoroughly planned out, she laced her hand over her stomach, leaned her head against the wall and let her eyelids drop... This adolescent preoccupation with Clark was going to rob her of her edge if she didn't let it go. And she really needed to get control over her ice cream passion. One triple dip sundae should have been plenty... this sugar high was not going to let her rest easily. Her head felt heavy as it rested against the wall; she was still so tired from the late night before... Ice cream and teen crushes... wonder what Clark was like in high school. He probably was a jock - captain of the football team... hero in the last seconds of the championship. Bet he had girls fighting over him all the time. Whole cheerleader squads of them. Could've had any of them, except for one... one girl who didn't have time for romance. The lovely raven-haired junior was the center of his universe. The whole school knew of his great love for her and how she'd spurned him for reasons unknown, she thought amusedly. Lois sighed and settled into her daydream. What a great way to pass the time while she was waiting... //*She was too busy being dual editor of the school newspaper and yearbook along with trying to get past the consistent score of ninety-eight in all her classes; boys had to take a back seat to accomplishments and grades. Daddy wanted one hundred percent - nothing less would satisfy him. Still the gorgeous senior with the deep chestnut eyes was so tempting. She fancied herself in love with him but couldn't risk disappointing her father... again. He'd tried many times to ask her out, but she politely and coolly rejected his offers time and time again until one day he simply stopped asking. It broke her heart to let him think that she wasn't interested in him, leaving him to believe that he was the victim of unrequited love, but it was necessary in order to achieve her goals.*// Lois opened her eyes and squinted at the bright lights in the hallway; fantasizing about how it could have been if she and Clark had attended the same high school was distracting her admirably from her queasy stomach. //*She attended the football games under the facade of being there for the newspaper even though any of her reporters could have covered them. Always there with a paper pad in hand, she scribbled notes constantly during the game, never letting anyone see what was written. It was the only time she allowed herself to indulge in romantic thoughts about him as she secretly doodled their names together on a hidden sheet of paper. Other girls slipped private notes to each other about their guys, but there wasn't any close girlfriends for her - another casualty fallen by the wayside in the pursuit of excellence. So she wrote them to herself. Each game he could always find her in the same seat located off to the side of the main spectators - she was his inspiration and his driving force to win. She felt his gazes upon her after completing a successful play; he always sought her out even though she only dared to meet his eyes once or twice during the whole season. But she wanted to be there for him, in some small way, even if it was only an unspoken agreement, a silent pact between star- crossed lovers. She was always gone just before the game ended, disappearing into the crowd and leaving her love for him on the field. Except for the last game. The championship had been won and her hero had saved the day by running for a touchdown as the game clock counted down the final seconds. She smiled at him for the first time as he pulled back from the jubilation of his team's win and sought her out. The lopsided grin on his face that resulted from her acknowledgment was not caused by victory, but was for her - only her. She sat there long after the crowd had gone off to celebrate their school's championship. She couldn't bear to leave the small stadium and the familiar seat that had been her only companion for the past few weeks. It was the last game of the season, last game for the seniors, and the last time she would ever be able to watch him play, or for that matter, watch him without it having to be in secret. He was graduating in the spring and there would be no more games unless he attended a college nearby. But he was so talented, she doubted he would choose any of the local campuses. She was losing the only connection she had to him and it hurt her deeply. From now on to the end of the school year, there would only be stolen glances in the hallway, or from behind a constant crowd of his admirers and friends. She would have to distance herself from him in order to rise above her father's expectations - there was no other way. The night air was damp with a faint mist glowing around the stadium lights, the only noise sounding from the footsteps of the trash collectors walking up and down the aisles as they picked up the remains of popcorn buckets, hot dog wrappers and empty soda cups. Absorbed in her thoughts, she failed to hear the noise of his arrival and was only aware of his presence after he sat down beside her. He didn't say a word to her, but shrugged off his varsity jacket and placed it gently on her shoulders. For the first time, she became aware of his essence, his own unique smell as his body heat from his coat reached her nostrils in warm waves. She played nervously with her hands for a moment, then turned her head sideways to look at him out of the corner of her eyes. He was as handsome as she'd ever seen him - his hair was still damp and tousled from his recent shower and he was dressed in a soft blue flannel shirt and jeans. He shifted nervously in his seat and his movements sent the heavenly aroma of Devin aftershave over to blend with the manly smells from his jacket. Almost overwhelmed by his close presence, she turned away to restudy her hands. After a few awkward moments, he spoke first, "I didn't expect you to be here... I just came because..." "I thought you'd be out celebrating... with your friends," she whispered quietly, more to herself than him. "There's no one I want to party with except..." he said shyly. "Thanks for letting me use your coat. It's getting a little chilly out here," she interrupted, not wanting him to complete his thought out loud. "Why are you still here? I'm glad you are, but you always leave early." "You know that?" she blurted, a little surprised that he kept track of her comings and goings from so far away on the field. He blushed as he nervously pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. "Yeah. I want to know everything about you." "This is the last game. I just needed to think." "About me? I mean, I'm sorry. That just came out," he stuttered. "Yeah, about you... and all the other seniors who'll be graduating, of course." He impulsively reached out and turned her face towards him with gentle pressure from the tips of his fingers. "Celebrate with me, please? Let's go grab a bite to eat or drink a soda or just talk... please? I know you don't like me very much, but just this once... then I'll never ask again." She drew in a deep breath, surprised at his sudden boldness, but secretly thrilled at the sensation his touch was doing to her insides. Yet, mad at herself for contemplating going with him and even more angry because he thought she didn't like him. She should be home studying or reading the dictionary or working on college entrance exams... but somehow she longed for this one last opportunity to be with him, then she could let him go and concentrate on her academic goals. "Okay." He flashed a brilliant smile and held out his hand to her. "Okay." Her small hand slipped sweetly into his large one and he led the way out of the stadium into the misty night.*// Lois was faintly aware of her body easing into deeper relaxation, then back out again as she fought against dozing off. //*Big brown eyes peering through tortoise shell glasses glanced sideways at her over his ice cream cone as they sat in his father's station wagon in the back parking lot. She felt a tiny tremor of excitement tickle her insides - how long could she last without giving into her feelings? Earlier inside the Dairy Queen, he'd held most of the conversation, mostly talking about school, college and football. Most of it didn't register in her brain; she was held captive by his gentle spirit and quiet grace. He was so different from the other boys she'd known, so much more mature, even down to the brightly patterned tie he was wearing...*// Vaguely feeling her head shift to the side under the need to drift into a blissful wisps of sleep, Lois' imagination kept driving against her brain's desire to shut down and rest... //*He reached forward to turn on the ignition key, then fumbled with the radio to find a popular rock station. Accidentally brushing her knee while turning the volume down, he seemed to be just as affected by the unexpected contact. The music played softly and she shivered, partly from the effect of the cold dessert, but mainly from the atmosphere in the vehicle which was suddenly thick with an acute physical awareness of each other. Then she was hit with the awkward revelation of being a love- starved teenager who was about to make out in the back of a Dairy Queen... What had changed her mind? The firm resolve she'd maintained since the beginning of the school year was rapidly melting away. She reached blindly for the handle of the door; it was time to end this before there was no turning back... "You cold?" he inquired as his arm reached behind her to rest lightly on her shoulders. Before he let its weight drop completely, he looked at her questioningly, asking her silent permission to touch her. His kind eyes were too irresistible; the alarm of her situation disappeared as she nodded her head and returned his nervous smile. Nervous, yet thrilled at his progress, he leaned back in his seat and pulled her in closer, then concentrated on finishing his ice cream. He lowered his cone and offered to share with her. Reaching out with a tentative tongue, she took a lick, but between his shaking hands and her hesitation, she dripped some on his white shirt and bold tie. "Sorry," she giggled, then reached for the cone in his hand to unwrap the napkin around it in order to wipe up the small drops. He guessed what she was attempting to do and in his clumsy fumbling to help her, they only succeeded in knocking it out of his hand onto floor. "It's okay. I'll clean it later." He laughed at her embarrassment while stilling her hands as she reached for the cone to retrieve it. Settling back into the circle of his arm, she blushed shyly at him, her mouth twitching nervously as she gauged his reaction to her ungraceful assistance. Smiling at her for a few moments, his face grew serious as he looked deep into her eyes. "Being with you... like this... feels so right. Can I ask you something?" he whispered in a low voice, his face inching closer to hers. "Uh huh... " she murmured, knowing in the back of her mind she should pull away, but magic was happening. "Why did you turn me down all those times I asked you out?" he asked huskily, his fingers playing lightly with the silky strands around her face. "I can't..." she replied, confused by the sensations his touch was stirring up. "I have my reasons." 'My father...' she remembered, and tried to withdraw from his ever increasing embrace around her shoulders. He noticed she was struggling against him and released her reluctantly. "Sorry. Guess I was right all along... you don't care for me the way I do for you. I'll take you home," he said dejectedly and reached for the ignition to start the jeep. "Not true... I care..." She couldn't bear to hear the hurt in his voice. "So why?" She shook her head slowly as stuffed away memories began pounding inside her head as control over her thoughts eased away... Her father wanted a son - the drive to be the best - the investigation that she'd nailed - and a handsome reporter who doted on her every word... The image of a woman falling... swirling into a black hole... arms and legs flailing helplessly as the events around her shattered out of her control... Waves of horror and utter betrayal twisted and turned in her memory as the knowledge of what he had done to her came washing over her with a vengeance. Spinning still... whirling into a giant eddy... had to get away from *him*...*// A gentle shake on her shoulder lifted her up out of bitter- cold desolation and loneliness; the midnight shadows lightened into the image of Clark Kent's face in her mind's eye. //*"Trust me," he whispered against her lips as his arms wrapped warmly around her waist and he gently eased her down onto the front seat. her mind cried as she melted underneath his well-muscled body. Her arms gripped his shoulders tightly as she opened her mouth to allow him to explore hers intimately. White hot sensations shook her as she was drawn higher and higher... into sounds... and lights... shaking still... He pulled away and smiled triumphantly at her. Glasses faded, facial features twisted into a contemptuous sneer... laughing - at her! He wasn't her hero anymore! Claude was back!!*// Breathing heavily, Lois felt someone shaking her shoulder and then realized that she must have been dreaming. Slowly opening her eyes, she stared into a familiar smiling face laced with concern, complete with a pair of deep, dark eyes... As her head cleared from the sleep still clouding her thoughts, it took Lois a moment to recognize the person standing in front of her. His face was familiar to her but the last time she'd seen him in person was a long time ago at a bachelor's auction stage. There was no mistaking his identity as she finally placed a name to his face. It wasn't Claude or Clark or a teenage hero. Her eyes followed his actions as Mayor Lex Luthor sat down next to her on the bench. "Are you okay?" he asked with a pique of interest in his eyes. "It appeared you were having quite a dream." "Mayor? Mayor, I was... um, waiting for someone and must have fallen asleep," she said thoughtfully, then became fully alert as she remembered that Clark was supposed to pass this way. Was the interview over? She couldn't see him now, not after that horrible dream! But what if he had seen her and hadn't even bothered to talk to her? "Did I miss him? Is he