Duet By Shayne Terry Rated: PG-13 Submitted: February 2002 ____________________________ Author's Note: I'd like to thank my beta readers: Wendy Richards, Jo March and especially Doc Klein's LabRat for all the help and useful suggestions they gave me. LabRat in particular was there from beginning to end for the full six months this took me to write, a long and grueling process that she was a real trouper in staying through till the end. I'd also like to thank the readers at Zoom's Message Boards. Their support helped keep me on the right path, and their feedback kept me encouraged. Thanks for all the help. Rights to all recognizable characters in this story belong to DC Comics and Warner Brothers, and no infringement is intended by their use in this story. Other characters are mine. ____________________________ Duet His voice was smoky, husky, filled with the pain of a lifetime of regrets, and as he began to sing, the darkened room fell silent. All eyes focused on a single dark figure perched on a stool at the end of the room, and his eyes seemed to be focused out into infinity. He was lost in the music; his fingers caressed the strings of his instrument in a way that was almost sexual. His voice beckoned them all, sought to find a place in each of their hearts that resonated. As he segued from one song to the next, his eyes would sometimes focus and look out into the crowd. He'd play an entire set while focused on one person after the next. It was as though he was seeking something in each and every one of them. When his eyes finally met hers, Lois was stunned. She'd responded to the music from the very beginning; it had moved her in a way she never would have expected. Now that he was focusing on her, she could hear subtle changes in the music. His husky voice was sensual and filled with promise. It was as though he were playing just for her, and she felt the heat rise to her face. The music seemed to last forever, and Lois found that she couldn't look away. He was a darkly handsome man, with a mournful air that she instinctively knew was bad news. He was the sort of man her mother had warned her about; all sensuality and tragic innocence. She responded to him instinctively, viscerally. It was as though his words didn't matter. He was speaking directly to her about the things that went on in the dark. He spoke of love, and her mind flashed to bare skin and intertwined limbs. He made her aware of herself as a woman in a way she'd spent a long time trying to forget, and aware of him as a man in a way she'd long forgotten. When he finally turned his attention from her, Lois felt a sense of loss. He continued to play set after set, touching person after person in the room, and all Lois could do was stare at him. She wasn't alone; the entire audience was focused on him. He held their entire attention; they were rapt. When the last note echoed across the room, the crowd sat stunned into silence. It was several seconds before the applause began; when it did, it was thunderous. "I told you!" Lucy yelled in her ear as the crowd began to cheer. Lois hadn't wanted to come tonight; Lucy was always finding one musician after another to fall in love with. They'd all been handsome, and none of them had had a shred of talent. Lois didn't have time to search through the losers in life; her job was to find talent. She had an eye for it. "What did you say his name was again?" Lois shouted in her sister's ear. She knew all the major players in the industry by face, name and reputation. If she'd ever heard this man before, she would have remembered. "His name is Kent... Clark Kent!" It wasn't much of a name for a musician; it certainly didn't fit his bad boy image. Lois was surprised by her reaction to him; she'd given up bad boys years ago. She'd given up on men; she'd learned all the lines, seen too much not to become jaded and cynical. To find that a part of herself she'd thought was long dead responded to someone she hadn't even met yet was unsettling. He'd managed to hold an entire audience enthralled with nothing more than his voice and a single instrument. He practically radiated personal magnetism, and his skills as a musician were better than good. By the time the crowd finally began to settle, Clark Kent had left the stage, and Lois could see another group setting up. She was familiar with the group; they were competent local musicians, but they didn't have what it took to become stars. Clark Kent did. "Let's have a talk with Mr. Kent, shall we?" Lois spoke softly to her sister, then rose to her feet. Lucy grinned enthusiastically, her eyes twinkling with unconcealed excitement. This was the first time Lois had ever agreed with her judgment, and Lucy was as proud as a puppy. Sometimes the differences in their ages seemed insurmountable. Lois wondered idly if Lucy had already found her way into Kent's bed; for some reason, the thought saddened her. She quietly stood and made her way through a smoky maze of tables, with Lucy following close behind. The club was dimly lit at the best of times, and the chairs were crowded close together. It wasn't a dive, but it wasn't much more than one either. It was on the lower end of the many respectable clubs in the city. Lois crossed the broad expanse of floor toward the doors beside the low stage. A large, heavily built bouncer stood beside the entrance, staring balefully out at the crowd. Lois knew that illegal gambling occasionally went on in the back rooms, which explained the need to keep people out, but Lois had never taken well to being kept out of any place that she wanted to go. She grinned at the bouncer, and he grunted sourly as he let her by. She'd been to this club before, and he knew better than to get in her way. There were advantages to her position in life; she had enough influence that club owners couldn't afford to lose her goodwill. The secrets she knew about many of them didn't hurt either. The hallway behind the curtain was a different world. While the club had made at least small concessions to class, the back rooms looked as though they hadn't been painted since the 1950's. The shabby, greenish hue of the walls was a fair match for the faded brown carpet on the floor. A faint odor of stale alcohol filled the air. Lois wondered what was wrong with Clark Kent. He had too much talent to be playing in dumps and dives; she'd seen famous classical musicians who were less accomplished with their instruments. His stage presence was overwhelming, which was almost as important as his skill. With his voice, his looks and his talent, he should have been on his way already. Lois was good at her job. She could spot that certain special quality that made the difference between a competent musician and a phenomenon. Clark Kent had that quality; he had more of it than anyone she'd ever seen. Something had to be holding him back. Musicians of his caliber didn't work in dead end jobs like this one. Lois hoped it wasn't drugs; drugs meant endless headaches, missed concert dates, and sometimes worse. Lois came to a badly hung door and rapped on it professionally. She felt the familiar sense of excitement in the pit of her stomach at the possibility of actually making a new discovery, but it was mixed with something else. It took her a moment to realize that she was nervous. Lois stiffened. She was one of the best in the business. A dozen artists were begging her for just the chance to be heard. If anyone had the right to be nervous, it was he. She glanced back at Lucy, who nodded. Lucy knew better than to speak when Lois was making a sales presentation. If she hadn't, Lois would have left her behind. The door opened quickly, startling Lois. A pair of dark, hauntingly familiar eyes stared up at her. A perfect replica of Clark Kent stood before her; Clark Kent as he must have been a quarter of a century before. The child had the same hair, the same eyes, and disturbingly, the same pain. The child simply stood in the doorway and stared up at her without saying a single word. "Josh!" Lois glanced up to see the figure she had been expecting stepping around a corner. "How many times do I have to tell you to keep the door closed?" Clark Kent was even more impressive in person. He wore simple black denim jeans and a tight black shirt. He worked out; the muscles in his chest and biceps were hard and taut. Lois found herself speechless for a moment as he stepped in front of the boy. His expression was anything but welcoming. "I've got the paperwork showing that I'm home-schooling my son. I wish you people would..." Lois found herself glancing at his left hand; no ring. The child couldn't have been more than five years old. The boy peered up at her from behind his father with wide, guileless eyes. "I'm not here to cause any trouble, Mr. Kent." Lois smiled professionally. "I'm here to help you." "You aren't with social services?" he asked, still tense. "No. I'm here to speak with you about another matter." Lois smiled down at the boy. "I didn't even know you had a son until just now." Clark Kent hesitated, then smiled sheepishly. "I've been having some problems with the social workers lately. I'm sorry to have mistaken you for one of them." The smile transformed his face, and Lois was forced to remind herself of all the handsome men she dealt with from day to day. There was no reason for this one to be any different from any of the others. "My name is Lois Lane. I'm an entertainment attorney, a junior partner in the firm of McAllister and Lake, and I believe that we have a great deal to offer each other." He smiled again, but this smile was harder, less innocent. "I've heard that line more often than I care to admit. I don't need an attorney." "I'm more than just an attorney, Mr. Kent. I match clients with recording companies, working out deals which are equitable for all parties." "So you think I should produce albums, go on tour." "I know talent when I see it. I could get you a recording contract in less than a week." Lois watched Clark Kent carefully. His body language was all wrong; most artists fell all over themselves at the prospect of a recording contract. A few were more hesitant. Clark Kent looked as though he'd bitten into a lemon. She knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. "I'm not interested." "If you have issues with the ethics of the major studios, I have contacts with a few of the independents." Lois had dealt with musicians who resented the studio system. They took special handling. "The money won't be as good, and the distribution won't be as wide, but I can assure you that these companies are run by musicians for musicians." Many artists gave lip service to idealism, but most changed their mind quickly when real money was involved. "I'm happy with my life as it is, Ms... what did you say your name was again?" "Lois Lane." Lois pulled a small card from the pocket of her pant suit and handed it to him. Her fingers tingled as they brushed against his, and she glanced quickly up at him. Their eyes met and held for a moment longer than was socially acceptable. Lois was attracted to him, and she was almost certain that he was aware of her as well. She looked away from him quickly. She knew better than to get involved with clients. Musicians were bad news; she knew from hard experience that they all had issues struggling to rise to the surface. It was part of what made them creative, she supposed. The pain in Clark Kent's eyes told her that he had more at stake than most. "Perhaps you might discuss this with your wife." With any luck, his wife was already heading backstage. If he was married, all her problems were solved. She'd be able to focus on business with barely a sigh of regret; she'd cursed her own father's many infidelities too many times to consider a married man even remotely eligible. It was the one rule she had never broken, and she was proud of that. "My wife passed away two years ago." The pain in his eyes intensified with that statement, and Lois ignored a thrill of excitement. Clark Kent looked like a man who was still mourning his wife. It was impossible to compete with a ghost from the past, and Lois knew better than to even try. It meant he was single. "I'm sorry to hear about your loss." Lois tried to sound sincere. A glance at the child behind him made her feel contrite. The man had lost a wife, and the boy had lost a mother. She had no doubt that he'd already had offers from women wanting to comfort him. She hesitated for a moment. "I'm one of the best attorneys in the city, even if I do mainly work with contract law. Keep my card; if Social Services gives you any problems, give me a call." He hesitated, then slipped the card into his wallet. "I doubt that I'll have much trouble. I'm only in town for a few more days, and then I'll be moving out of state." Lois would have a paralegal track down his itinerary. Clark Kent wasn't going to be an easy sell, but Lois was fully confident that she'd manage to bring him around. The boy yawned, and Clark smiled apologetically. "It's been nice meeting you." He glanced at the boy waiting behind him. "I've got to get Josh to bed and then play another couple of sets." "I enjoyed your music, Mr. Kent, and I hope that we have a chance to speak again." She held her hand out to shake, and there was again an almost electric shock as her skin touched his. "I think I'd like that." With that, Lois left the room with Lucy trailing after her. "So that's it. You're just giving up?" Lois looked back at her sister and shook her head. "Of course not. I'm just going to give him a little time to get used to the idea. In the meantime, I'll have one of my people dig up everything they can find about his background. It'll give me a better idea what tactics I'll need to use." "So you finally agree with me? I found a keeper?" Lucy's expression was expectant, eager. Lois sighed. "He's too good to be playing here." "So I was right?" "He's a little too good to be true. I'm sure we'll dig up something unpleasant in the report." No one chose to be poor. If Clark Kent was refusing her offer, he had to have reasons. Once she knew what they were, she could work around them. They were almost to the door when Lucy grabbed Lois's arm. "What?" Lois asked. "You can't admit that I was right." Lois blinked at the outrage in Lucy's tone. "You've never been able to admit that anyone else was right." "We still don't know enough to know whether he'd be a good candidate to sign up." "You heard him. If you didn't think he had something special, you never would have made him an offer." Lois stood and looked at her sister for a moment. "For once, I guess you were on to something." Lucy grinned. "I told you this one was different." "You aren't sleeping with this one." Lois knew that without a doubt. Unless she missed her bet, he wasn't dating anyone. He probably hadn't dated anyone since the death of his wife. That sort of loyalty appealed to her in an odd way. "I never let my romantic entanglements cloud my judgment about music," Lucy said, with a superior air. Lois grinned at her sister, and Lucy broke into giggles. Lucy allowed her romances to cloud her judgment about everything. She just hoped that her attraction for Clark Kent wouldn't cause any problems. She had no doubts that she'd find his weak points. It was only a matter of time until they were working closely together. She ignored the excitement in the pit of her stomach at the prospect. She was a professional, and she knew better that to lose her head over a handsome man. All it would take would be a little willpower. She hadn't gone to college and law school and then worked in the music industry for more than four years without learning something about what it took to be a professional. She had a potential star on her hands, and this time no one was going to steal him out from under her. ******************** Clark watched as the two women walked down the hall, and he winced as he heard Lois Lane say she'd have him investigated. That was the last thing either he or Joshua needed. They'd need to move on, and quickly. As he closed the door behind him, he resisted the impulse to look through the wall at their retreating figures. It had been all he could do to pretend not to recognize Lois Lane in the first place; he'd been uncomfortably aware of her from the first time he'd set eyes on her. She made him nervous. He hadn't been interested in a woman at all in the two years since Lana had died, and he wasn't ready to start now. Lois Lane could cause him more trouble than anyone he'd ever met, and he couldn't afford to be attracted to her. Joshua made a small, incoherent sound, and Clark rushed to crouch beside him. "Don't worry, partner, we'll be just fine." He'd been telling Joshua that for two years, but he'd never really believed it. Neither of them was good at dealing with the pain of loss; Lana's death had left a gaping hole in their lives, one that had never healed. Dealing with his own grief was difficult enough. In the space of a single moment, he'd lost almost everything. He'd lost the woman who was his bestfriend, his lover, and his wife. That he'd lost his mother too had almost pushed him over the edge. Losing his father when he was very young had been hard. Being an adult hadn't made the losses any easier. It would have been easy for Clark to sink into a morass of depression and despair. He might have, but he'd had to be strong. Josh had needed him, and Clark had had to set his own grief aside for the sake of his son. Clark knew what it was like to lose a parent as a child; he was intimately familiar with the pain and guilt and fear that caused. He'd lost his father when he wasn't much older than Joshua had been, and he'd never really gotten over it. He hugged his son tightly. Joshua was all the family he had left; they needed each other. "You need to be more careful about opening the door to just anyone," Clark said as he released his son. "We've talked about it before." His son nodded silently. Clark sighed. "Well, we'll just have to do better next time. It's time for bed." He felt a tickle in the back of his mind, and he sighed. "This would all be a little easier if you'd just talk out loud." In the wake of their grief, they'd discovered something unique, another legacy from Clark's unknown heritage. Joshua could speak without moving his lips, from a distance. He could project his emotions as well. Clark supposed it meant that Joshua was going to inherit the other parts of his legacy; in a way it was a relief. As long as he could get Joshua safely through the next few years, he'd never have to worry about him having broken arms or scraped knees. His son would be safe. Joshua shrugged. Clark felt another tickle in the back of his mind. "Brush your teeth and I'll tuck you in." As Josh headed for the bathroom, Clark sighed. He'd enjoyed being in Metropolis. He'd enjoyed the rhythms, the energy, and the heartbeat of the city. Metropolis had something special, and he'd hoped to play here for a while. With the threat of investigation, and with Social Services breathing down his neck, he'd need to cut his next engagements short. He didn't like doing it; a reputation for being undependable was the ruination of many musicians' careers. It would have been nice to have met Lois Lane under different circumstances. There was something about her that attracted him. She had self-confidence, a vibrancy that seemed to make her the only spot of color in a black and white world. She demanded to be noticed. He couldn't afford an investigation. Social Services already had questions about the appropriateness of raising a child in a series of bars and nightclubs. They weren't happy that he'd chosen to home school Josh; Clark hadn't seen any other choice. Lana and Clark and Josh had been a family in Smallville. They'd worked at making a home, at building something that would last. It didn't feel right, somehow, to make a home anywhere else. The proceeds from renting his parents' farm left enough money to survive on, and his music allowed money for luxuries. Money had never been important to Clark, and he doubted that it would be important to Josh either. If Josh grew up to inherit all of Clark's abilities, he'd never need to fly on a plane, he wouldn't have to eat if he didn't want to, and he'd never grow sick. Without a need for food or shelter or money for travel, Josh wouldn't need much money to live. It'd be a lonely life, though. Clark had been lucky to find someone like Lana to confide his secret to. They'd been friends since he was a child, and even so it had been difficult for her to deal with his secret. She'd sworn him to secrecy, and he'd never broken that promise. He'd been willing to give up his music for her, for the chance to be part of a family. He'd even been willing to work for her father, though he'd chafed under all the restrictions involved. Lana hadn't always been an easy woman to love, but at least she had been willing to give him a chance. Clark efficiently pulled out the cot and began setting the blankets and comforters in place on top of it. Josh liked to be tucked in, and Clark made a point to be there for him every night without exception. Children loved stability and rituals, and with all the uprooting in Josh's life, it was important that he have some things he could count on. Clark heard the sound of the water being shut off, and Josh's footsteps as he padded back out of the bathroom. Before Josh could react, Clark swung him up in his arms and swung him around. Josh grinned at him but did not laugh. He never did. He hadn't spoken a single word since his mother's death, and if it hadn't been for Clark's discovery that they could speak mind to mind, he would have been more worried. Clark gently sat his son in bed, wrapping the blankets tightly around him. "Which story do you want to hear tonight?" Clark found a chair and sat down beside the cot. He felt the familiar tickle in his mind and sighed. "Don't worry, I'll take care of everything." His son looked up at him with guileless eyes. Another tickle in his mind made Clark want to wince. "Yes, she was pretty, but that doesn't mean she was a good person." Lois Lane had been uncomfortably attractive. It was difficult to lie while speaking with the mind; too much emotion came along with the words. Clark glanced down at his son and felt suddenly uncomfortable. "We're really going to have to get you talking again." If he was starting to be interested in women again, he didn't want his son listening in. The innocence of childhood was fleeting enough without knowing your father was attracted to someone other than your mother. It probably hadn't been entirely healthy, allowing Josh to use his mind in the way he did. It had been an amazing novelty at first. Clark hadn't even been aware that he had the ability until his son had shown him the way, and he had wondered how many other people were able to do it. Clark began to recite Josh's favorite story aloud. It didn't take any unusual trick of memory; Josh, like most children, loved to hear the same stories recited over and over again. Clark didn't mind. He remembered what it had been like when his own father had died - years of uncertainty and fear. He'd worshipped his parents, thought they could do no wrong. When his father had died, it had left him with nightmares for years. He'd been afraid for his life; if his father, with all his power and knowledge could die, how much easier would it be for a three-year-old? Clark didn't mind any of the things Josh asked to reassure himself that things would remain the same. Clark was the only stable part of his son's life. Of course, he wasn't exactly like other people, and neither was Josh. Even as a teenager, he'd thought that others like him might be wandering the world, and he had made sure to travel to places where miracles had occurred. He'd interviewed Indian fakirs and played music with aboriginal shamans in the outback. He'd never found anyone like him, but it was entirely possible that they were concealing themselves, just as he was. Since Josh had shown him the way, he had begun brushing the minds of the people around him, the minds of the people for whom he played, hoping to find someone who shared his gift. In all the nights, and with all the people he had searched, he'd never felt an echo of what he'd felt when he'd touched Lois Lane's mind. He hadn't read her thoughts; it wasn't easy to get anything but feelings from anyone except his son. Instead, he'd felt a thread of loneliness that matched his own. Lois Lane was a woman capable of deep passions; he'd sensed it in the space of a moment. It was her mind that attracted him as much as anything; while she was beautiful, he'd had to gently turn aside the advances of countless women who were as good looking. He'd never met any of them who had responded the way she did. She'd almost reached back. Lois Lane was a dangerous woman for more than one reason. Her mind was quick; he'd sensed that immediately. If she were to look too closely, she'd notice discrepancies in his life. She'd use them against him; she seemed like the pragmatic type. He wasn't ready to think about any woman other than Lana, and Josh wasn't ready for him to do so either. He finally noticed that Josh was asleep, and he sighed. It was getting harder to keep Josh protected from the world. It had been easy when he was smaller, but he was reaching an age where he needed playmates of his own age. He needed people he could call friends. If he didn't get them, he'd be even more isolated than Clark had been. His mother had at least given him a chance. He'd grown up in Smallville, and developed a small circle of friends. The music had helped, of course. Josh needed the chance for a normal life. The social workers couldn't irritate Clark any more than his own conscience. He couldn't go on living the life he had been living, but he didn't know how to do anything else. He'd have to talk to the manager in the morning. The man was short- handed, and Clark wasn't willing to leave him high and dry. However, when the gig was over in three days, he'd cancel his further concert dates and leave the city. It would take Ms Lane time to investigate him; by the time she found out enough to do any harm, Clark and his son would be long gone. ******************** Lois slipped quietly into her office. It had been a long night, and she hadn't yet been to bed. She'd already made arrangements to have Clark Kent investigated; hopefully she would find something that would help her tailor her sales pitch. She'd already discovered that he wasn't represented by anyone in the industry, and the private detective she used most often had promised preliminary results by the close of business. Lois loved her office. A single window looked out over Hobbs Bay, with the lights of the skyline showing like a million glittering stars. It was beautiful by night. Lois loved to stand and look out onto Metropolis during the quiet times. She'd received the office only three months before, and she still appreciated it. It was a major improvement over the small, cramped office she'd had before. She'd only officially been in the business for three years, though she'd interned for four summers before that, and in that time she'd done well for herself. She hadn't booked any superstars, but the performers she represented were solid, profitable producers. Lois knew the business, and she knew how to turn a sow's ear into a silk purse. She'd already had offers from a number of other agencies. A careful slip of the tongue had earned her this office. The senior partners knew as well as anyone that she was an asset. She liked to tell herself that no one was better in the industry. Morning was Lois's favorite time. Musicians tended to play late into the night; the majority of annoying complaints came in some time after noon. Unless she had a meeting, Lois usually had at least part of the morning to herself. It was a time for contemplation, for sipping coffee and reading the Daily Planet. It allowed time for reflection and planning. She hadn't always been a morning person, but years of experience had finally changed her. It amused her sometimes to think that she'd almost become a reporter. The fact that it horrified her father had been an almost irresistible incentive for her. In the end, though, she'd buckled under and gone into law. It wasn't medicine, but her father had been satisfied until he'd discovered her specialty. She'd enjoyed his consternation; now that she made more money than he did, she was finally able to relax a little and give up some of the resentments that had eaten away at her throughout her childhood. She'd have been good as a reporter; Lois was just confident enough to believe that she would have been good at almost anything she set her mind to. She wouldn't have made as much money as a reporter, though, and she certainly wouldn't have had as nice an office. Lois set her briefcase on the floor and walked to the small kitchenette on the east wall. The last resident had had a minibar installed; all Lois used it for was diet drinks and mineral water. She quickly went through the motions of making a pot of coffee. It would be an hour yet before the office help arrived, and she often preferred to make her own pot rather than waiting. She moved to her desk while the water for the coffee heated, and checked her day planner. She had half a dozen items on her schedule: meetings with record executives, contract negotiations, and the beginning preparations of a copyright infringement lawsuit. All this would be interspersed with complaints from one musician about his personal manager, by another claiming that his booking agent was letting him down, and by a third claiming his accountant was cheating him. Lois's job was officially to solve problems. Unofficially, it was to browbeat people into doing things they should have been doing in the first place. Clark Kent would be a fool not to accept her services. An entertainment lawyer did a great deal more than help write contracts. Lois took aspiring musicians and helped them assemble a team of people - personal managers, booking agents, business managers and accountants. Once the team was assembled, she was the lynchpin of their activities. She was the person who made sure that the people surrounding an artist continued to act in the artist's best interest. She helped musicians navigate safely through the minefield of the entertainment industry. Many musicians were so desperate to sign with a recording label that they signed away all their rights. Lois made sure that didn't happen. Her job was to make sure that the artist understood exactly what he was signing; she'd become adept at translating the confusing mass of legalese into language people could understand. She actively solicited deals for her clients; she had contacts in the recording industry that the average artist couldn't match. She could get an executive to listen to a demo tape where someone coming off the street wouldn't have managed to get in the front door. Clark Kent would be foolish to turn down the services she had to offer, and Lois knew that she didn't want to lose him. He had the chance to be something none of her other clients did, a major hit. Lois'd had a chance to have a superstar once, and it had been stolen from her. She wasn't going to allow it to happen again. It was only a matter of time before others began to notice Clark Kent's music; when they did, the offers would begin pouring in. His resistance would crumble soon enough. Given that, she was going to do whatever she needed to in order to gain him as a client. The fact that she was attracted to him wouldn't be a consideration. Clark Kent had more potential than any artist that she'd ever seen. She couldn't afford to destroy the possibility of a beautiful working relationship with a few fleeting moments of lust. It wasn't like her to drool over a musician anyway. She'd learned her lesson about them in college: musicians were unstable people. The same emotional problems that led them to crave the attention they got at center stage made them flighty, unreliable, and unable to maintain a mature relationship. Lois couldn't abide betrayal. She poured herself a cup of coffee and walked over to the window to look out over the skyline. She sipped the black brew and stared at the sky, which was slowly beginning to lighten with the first rays of the sun. The curt knock at her door was an unwelcome surprise. The man who stepped through without bothering to wait for her reply was even less welcome. Ash Benedict was one of the last people she wanted to deal with at six in the morning. "It's good to see you up and working so early, Lois." "What do you want, Ash?" There wasn't enough coffee in the world to make Ash's periodic visits bearable. "I was just wondering what you might think about a merger." Lois purposely glanced down the line of Ash's body. "I doubt you'd have the assets needed to complete the deal." He scowled, but quickly comported his face into a smile. "I hear that you're having some new talent investigated." "Just a little preliminary work. It'll probably turn out to be nothing." Lois kept her expression carefully cool and composed. Ash had stolen her one superstar, and that client was the only reason he was still employed. She'd have to find out who had leaked the information to Ash and have them fired. Discretion was one of the most important factors in being an in-house private detective firm. Anyone who couldn't keep their mouth shut within the company probably wouldn't be able to outside the company either. "I hear that Blaze hasn't been happy lately." He chuckled uneasily. "When is Blaze ever happy? It's a full time job just dealing with his palimony suits." "Word on the street is that he may be shopping around for other representation. I don't think the partners would be pleased to lose the business of a cash cow like Blaze Armstrong." Ash's face twisted. "You'd know all about the street, wouldn't you, you little..." "I'd be careful about the people I insult; your position here is tenuous enough without making waves." Lois sipped her coffee calmly. "If you lose Blaze, I doubt you'll be able to keep a job as a janitor." He scowled. "You'd be surprised what I can do if I have to." "I doubt that." Ash lacked the slightest trace of ethics or morals. Lois had little doubt that he'd do anything short of murder to get ahead. She hesitated before speaking again. "Why are you here?" "I thought I'd offer you a little extra work. Between three palimony suits, the drunk driving charge, and the defamation case, Blaze has me swamped. I thought you might like a chance to deal with his contract negotiations with Virgin Records." Ash was weak at contract law; he'd made bad mistakes that had cost Blaze Armstrong a great deal of money. Lois suspected that Blaze had given him an ultimatum: one last chance to forge a decent contract or he was going to lose the business. Lois's voice turned cool. "I'd have thought you'd have gone to any of the others; Blaze nearly signed a contract with me. With all his dissatisfaction lately..." "He won't even be involved. He's still in Europe working on a movie. He thinks he's an actor." Ash's laugh was brittle. "Give people a little success and they get to be full of themselves." "You know that from experience, do you?" Lois lifted an eyebrow, and Ash flushed. "I'm not worried about Blaze. I take care of everything he needs." "Unfortunately, I'm caught up in things and can't help you at the moment. Maybe one of the others..." "None of them would help me." Ash gritted his teeth. "They're all jealous of what I've got." None of them liked Ash Benedict any better than she did. He'd found ways to harm each and every one of the six other lawyers on staff. He didn't dare ask one of the senior partners, of course. "I'm swamped with the Bradley case. I'd like to help you, but I don't think I can." Lois smiled sweetly at him, and she could see his face flush with rage. "I was trying to do you a favor. You never know how much a little reflected fame will do for your reputation. What do you have? Half a dozen solo musicians eking out an existence on the bottom of the top 100? A middle-of-the-road rock-and-roll band?" He shook his head. "I don't know how you convinced the partners to give you this office, but I wouldn't get too comfortable." He turned quickly and left. Lois stared after him, then shrugged and took a sip of coffee. In the long run, it was probably better that she hadn't gotten a contract with Blaze Armstrong. The man was a prima donna; rumor had it that Ash was supplying him with both women and drugs. Lois wouldn't have tolerated that sort of behavior from any of her clients. She'd had to deal with the aftermath of drug overdoses, with temper tantrums and fits, but Blaze's behavior edged into the criminal. She was certain that Ash had stepped over that line a long time before he'd even thought about taking the bar exam. Hopefully, he wouldn't be around much longer. The partners weren't stupid; if he lost the Blaze Armstrong account, he'd be out of work in a flash. The sky was lightening behind her. She wondered what she'd have to do to bring Clark Kent into the fold. She had ideas already about how to promote his career; she knew the executives who were most likely to be impressed by his sort of music. She wondered how he'd sound with a band; he'd been powerful enough with just an acoustic guitar and his voice. With the right sort of accompaniment, he could go right to the top of the charts. The sky behind her brightened as she made a phone call to start working out preliminary details on the Bradley contract. She barely noticed when the secretarial staff began to bustle about in the main office. The day flew by even faster than usual; she didn't have time for lunch in the midst of an unending round of phone calls, meetings and contract negotiations. It was late afternoon when her contact in the in-house investigation division arrived. Lois was on the phone when she saw the small woman peek around the corner of the door. She waved the other woman inside while continuing her conversation. "He's not trying to screw you. We've had problems getting bookings in Atlanta before; I think one of their promoters doesn't like the music. I'm sure I can work around it." Lois paused, listening. She gestured for the other woman to sit down. "I know it's your home town. I'll see what I can do." She set the phone into its cradle and turned to the woman sitting in the chair opposite her desk. "Did you find out who discussed what we talked about yesterday with Ash Benedict?" "He's been dating our night receptionist." Pilar Montoya sighed. "She's new and didn't realize that confidentiality applies even to others within the firm." "What are you going to do about it?" Lois stared at the other woman. "I'd prefer to give her a second chance." The older woman stared solidly at Lois for a long moment. Lois coughed. "If she's seeing him romantically, what's to say she won't make the same mistake again?" "I do." Pilar met Lois's gaze unflinchingly. "I'll route all your requests through a separate line for the next few months, and I'll keep an eye on her." Lois nodded. She respected Pilar; despite all the dirt and embarrassing material she went through on a day-to-day basis, she never seemed to lose an aura of dignity. "All right. Did you get the information I requested?" Pilar silently handed Lois a thick file folder. Lois opened it and said, "What are your immediate impressions?" "He seems to be legitimate enough. I didn't find any hint of the usual problems. He doesn't have a criminal record, there's no evidence of drug use, I'm not sure that he even drinks. He's a widower, he receives an income from the rental of a tract of farmland, and he travels a great deal." "So he doesn't actually need more money?" Pilar shook her head. "It's enough to live on, just barely; he supplements his income with his music. It keeps him from living hand to mouth, but doesn't offer him any real kind of independence." "It looks like he's traveled a great deal." "I don't think we've even begun to scratch the surface there. I've got articles that have him playing in Memphis, in New Orleans, in Chicago. Right out of high school he somehow managed to seek out a lot of the old greats. He found enough of them that it couldn't have been by chance. He actively sought out some of the best old blues musicians and learned all he could from them." Lois glanced up. "So he skipped college, then?" "He's got a music degree at Louisiana State University. It seems he paid his way through several scholarships and grants, and worked almost continuously as a musician while he was getting his degree. He graduated cum laude." Lois was surprised. Most of the musicians she dealt with these days had chosen to forego any form of formal education. Of course, she'd graduated magna cum laude, and had been at the top of her class in law school as well. "He seems to have traveled to Europe and to other parts of the world for several years after college. Our information there is very sketchy. We know that he spend time in Britain, France, India and Australia, but there are massive gaps that we haven't been able to fill yet." Lois leaned forward. "You weren't able to find any hint of scandal at all?" Pilar shook her head. "As far as we could tell, he spent his time learning from musicians and speaking to holy men and mystics." Lois sighed. He was probably something of a kook then. She'd known a few people who took the whole eastern mysticism thing too far. It was something that she could deal with. "He'd gone to school with a woman named Lana Lang. He returned home in the summer of 1991 just as she was returning from her final year of college. They hit it off, and were married in the space of a few months. He went to work for her father at the Smallville National Bank." Lois flipped through the pages quickly, finding a faded copy of a wedding photo. Clark Kent looked younger, and uncomfortable in his tuxedo. The bride looked brittle, as though the marriage had already begun in a bad way. "They had a son, Joshua Martin Kent, within the first year of marriage. It was a difficult pregnancy, with complications that almost killed Lana Kent. I don't have any of the medical reports yet, but I think I can get hold of them with a little bit of effort." Lois nodded. "I'd like to see those reports." She felt guilty for a moment; she was prying into a seemingly innocent man's private affairs. It would have been different if he'd been a drug addict; there were issues she had to know about before she took a client on board. As far as she could tell, Clark Kent had never gotten as much as a speeding ticket. "So he lived a normal life, then took to the road again when his wife and mother passed away in a car accident." "That's pretty much it. This guy has apparently lived the cleanest life of any person I've ever investigated." Pilar hesitated. "Except... there are some oddities." Lois felt her spine stiffen. Oddities usually meant trouble. "First, we can't find any record of his ever flying on a plane in all the time he's traveled, even across the Atlantic. All this is despite the fact that he moved from place to place too fast to have arrived by any other means than flying." ******************** Lois frowned. "What do you think it means?" "It might not mean anything." The older woman sighed. "The airports would normally be hell to work around, but I have a cousin who works in the FAA. She won't give me any current records, but she can be very helpful with background checks." Lois frowned. The less she knew about anything illegal, the better. She was usually so grateful for Pilar's services that she rarely inquired how the information arrived so quickly. She didn't have ethical problems with exposing private sins, even if underhanded methods occasionally had to be used. Nevertheless, she'd prefer to skip the details. She gestured for the older woman to go on. "We wouldn't have been able to get this much information so quickly five years ago. The recent newspaper mergers and Global Media's insistence on putting everything onto the net made it a lot easier. It doesn't look as though he tried to cover his tracks; it's the sheer number of places that he's been that make the search more difficult." "So you don't think these irregularities with his air travel mean anything?" Pilar scowled. "His travel budget should have been incredible. The man never even owned a car until he got married, and every dime he had went to pay for his education. How was he able to pay for all the trips to India, Britain, Europe and Taiwan?" "Maybe he inherited some money you don't know about," Lois said uneasily. Pilar lifted an eyebrow. "We've only had seventeen hours to collect information. There are still a great many gaps that need to be filled in." "You don't think that's it, though." Pilar spoke slowly. "We have a young man who travels a great deal with no obvious means of support. Assuming we don't find anything, I'd start to wonder what sort of activities he was involved in." Drug running was the first thing that came to mind. Clark Kent didn't strike Lois as being either a drug smuggler or a drug dealer, but she'd only had a few minutes to speak with him. While she had confidence in her ability to judge people, she knew better than to believe that she could tell all a person's secrets at first sight. "I'd like you to find out everything you can," Lois said quietly. "This man has a great deal of potential, but I'd just as soon pass if he's involved with the drug cartels or organized crime." Pilar nodded approvingly. "We'll see what information we can squeeze from the airlines, and we'll do a more detailed background search." She glanced at the folder Lois was holding. "We've barely scratched the surface." "You think he's too good to be true?" "Everybody has secrets." Lois nodded. Secrets were important, especially in the music industry. Lois had always hated not knowing what went on behind closed doors; it was one of the reasons she'd considered becoming a reporter. Knowledge really was power, and Lois knew how to use it to its greatest extent. She glanced at the files again. Background information was useful, but it wasn't any substitute for face-to-face interaction. She already had enough information to formulate a plan of attack; a dozen possible strategies were flying through her mind already. "Find out everything you can about him. If he has anything dangerous in his background, I need to know as quickly as possible." Pilar nodded and rose to her feet. Lois spoke again without looking at Pilar. "I'm trusting that there won't be any more leaks." "I'll take care of it personally." Lois flipped through the file as the older woman left the room. She trusted that Pilar would be professional enough to take care of the matter. She liked the woman, but was careful to maintain her reputation as a tough negotiator. It bothered her sometimes, but as the only female lawyer in the firm, and the youngest, she knew that she had to seem tougher than any of the others. She carefully set the file into her briefcase. It was a rare day that she left by the close of business, but luckily, her meetings had gone well. She had time to stop by the club and speak to Kent again. She slipped out of the offices and down the elevators without being seen. That was a second piece of good luck; usually she would have been stopped by a couple of paralegals or by one of the partners with questions. In the underground parking garage, it didn't take her long to find her silver Jeep Cherokee. She made enough money to have gotten a sports car; Ash had one. Unlike most of the other members of her firm, however, she still made a habit of visiting the older clubs in town in search of new talent. A sports car would have been stolen or vandalized in some of the areas she frequented, yet she couldn't afford to keep a cheap, older car. She needed to maintain an appearance of success both for the partners and for the people she was representing. In the entertainment industry, appearance was sometimes as important as reality. The Cherokee was her best compromise between practicality and appearance. As she swung out onto the streets, Lois slipped her sunglasses on and frowned. She hoped that Clark Kent wasn't involved in drugs. She'd had clients who had problems with their addictions. She knew better than anyone the sort of devastation that addiction could cause; her mother's alcoholism was still a sore point. She'd practically had to raise Lucy alone after her father had left, and she still felt responsible for Lucy's excesses, even though she knew objectively that a child of thirteen couldn't be expected to be a good mother. Lois had learned the lesson at an early age: addictions destroyed lives. It was difficult enough dealing with an addict; Lois wouldn't tolerate a dealer as a client. She hoped that Clark Kent turned out not to be involved in anything dangerous. He was the best opportunity she'd had since allowing Blaze to slip through her fingers. If her instincts were right, he had a chance to be bigger than Blaze could ever hope to be. The fact that he was handsome was a point in his favor. He'd demonstrated a remarkable range of musical styles during his performance, but he'd held his audience enthralled throughout every piece. He looked a little clean-cut for the MTV crowd, but the music would be the main selling point. With the right marketing and promotion, he could be a superstar. He had to have a reason for avoiding the limelight; it was difficult for Lois to believe that someone hadn't already made him an offer. He'd traveled too widely, and had too much press not to have been noticed at one time or another. Yet he'd reacted to her offer as though the thought of fame repelled him. He wasn't entirely averse to publicity. From what Lois had seen as she flipped through the newspaper articles, he'd gone out of his way to seek out musicians who had been famous once, individuals who had been instrumental in the development of their musical genres. The list of people he'd played with read like a who's who list of blues artists. If he'd wanted to avoid publicity completely, he never would have left Kansas. He could have made an adequate living playing the small-town circuit. The clubs he was playing in now didn't pay much better. Furthermore, with the sole exception of the club he was currently playing in, most places didn't offer lodging. The expenses in Metropolis were higher than most artists were able to pay; the price of a hotel room could eat away at the minuscule payments most musicians received. It was possible that he had some idea of his own potential. Clark Kent seemed to be a devoted father, and it was possible that he was afraid of the price fame would demand of himself and his son. Many artists became victims of their own success, trapped in their own homes because of the risk of being mobbed everywhere they went. Lois had half a dozen counterarguments in mind already. She was fully confident that she could convince him to join up if a fear of fame was his only problem. Fame could be managed; it was one of her jobs. As she approached the club she realized that she was actually nervous. She had an excited fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach that she hadn't experienced in a long time. Clark Kent was an attractive man, and under other circumstances she might have been interested in seeing him again. The fact that he was forbidden to her probably made him more exciting. Lois knew better than to try to mix business with pleasure. Office romances were difficult enough, but sleeping with a client was a bad idea. When the relationship ended, as it inevitably would, the fallout would be ugly. Lois had never understood how people were able to part amicably and remain friends after a relationship ended. Her relationships had always ended on an ugly, bitter note; she was too smart to combine something like that with her business interests. Losing a major client because of a simple physical attraction wasn't something she did. It wouldn't do much for her reputation either. She'd worked long and hard to be accepted as an equal. The partners had no problems with her being a woman. If she hadn't believed that, she wouldn't be working for them. However, they did have problems with her youth and relative inexperience. She had to work harder than anyone to gain the same amount of respect. She didn't want to throw all that away on a casual fling. Still, he was an attractive man, and there weren't any rules that said she couldn't enjoy her work. Lois allowed herself to relax a bit. She was mature enough to enjoy a handsome face without doing anything about it. As she pulled into a parking spot on the now empty street in front of the club, Lois took a deep breath. Another sort of excitement shot through her, one she was more familiar with. It was the thrill of the chase, the challenge involved in convincing people to do things that they were at least initially reluctant to do. She enjoyed parts of her work; the challenge, the negotiations, the feeling of being in charge. The partners gave her a great deal of personal autonomy; it was almost as though she had her own practice with someone else to handle all the petty details of paying bills, hiring help and screening calls. She didn't enjoy office politics. Luckily, she avoided problems with most of her co-workers by ignoring them. She dealt with her own clients and interfered in the work of the others as little as possible. Only Ash Benedict insisted on inserting himself in her life, and with any luck, he'd be gone before long. She crossed the street quickly and pulled open the door to the club. They'd been open for almost an hour, though it'd be a couple more before the musicians set up to play. The place was almost deserted. The bouncer at the door nodded curtly at her; he was the same man who had been watching the entrance to the backstage area the night before. There wasn't any guard now to the entrance to the area behind the stage. Lois carefully made her way across the club floor, avoiding the tables clustered closely together, and slipped through the doorway that led to the back entrance. Brannagan's was unusual in having a special area for musicians between sets; in the twenties, it had been a speakeasy with separate areas for illegal gambling and dressing rooms for torch singers. Illegal gambling still took place every now and again in one of the upstairs rooms. Lois had played a few games of poker there with executives from the industry. It had helped her fit into the old boys network a little more quickly, and Lois had enjoyed the challenge. Truthfully, she liked to gamble; it was in her nature. She knocked on the ill-fitting door twice, then waited for a response. When she didn't hear one, she gently pushed against the door, which swung open easily. The room beyond was empty and sterile, cleaned so thoroughly that the walls were a different color than those of the hallway. It was as though eighty years of cigarette residue had been scrubbed away, leaving the walls almost gleaming. "The boy does a good job of cleaning up after himself, doesn't he?" Lois turned; startled at the sound of a familiar voice, she nearly dropped her briefcase. Joe Brannagan was a fat, balding man in his mid-sixties. He set a ridiculous figure in his white shirt and red suspenders. As the owner of the club, he'd been one of Lois's first contacts out of school. Despite his appearance, Lois respected him, which was something she couldn't say about most of the people in the industry. "He's gone, then." "I had a suspicion that he was going to run when I saw that you'd talked with him." Lois glanced at him. "You've used him before?" The older man nodded. "He plays a few sets around here every few months. He's paranoid about publicity, but when I put an ad out in the paper, he's a real draw." "I'll bet," Lois said. "You don't have any idea about where he might have ended up, would you?" "I might." Joe glanced at her and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to mop his head. "Are you looking to take him away from all of this?" Lois nodded cautiously. "Good. I like the boy. He deserves better than all of this." "There isn't anything wrong with Brannagan's." "It's small potatoes compared to where he should be. I've been lucky to have him as long as I did." Lois hesitated before asking her next question. "He's not involved in anything dangerous, is he?" The older man's laughter was almost a barking sound. "Kent? He's the straightest arrow I know." Joe would know better than anyone. When he wasn't hosting poker games with record executives, he was holding meetings with the members of at least three local crime syndicates. Lois was careful to avoid the club on those days, and Joe was generous enough not to involve her with the shadier side of his business. If anyone knew whether Clark Kent was involved in anything shady, it would be him. That left the possibility that he was involved in something somewhere else, but the odds were that Joe would have heard something. He tended to have his employees screened only a little less thoroughly than the heads of governments did; the possibility of a federal agent or a spy for another criminal agency coming into his employ was something he took quite seriously. He hadn't remained in business as long as he had without being cautious. Lois felt a moment of relief. She doubted Pilar would discover anything Joe hadn't. All she had to do was convince Clark Kent to sign on the dotted line, then shop his music around to a few of the executives she knew. "So where did he go?" "He probably went home. He rents a couple of rooms in Durham." "North Carolina?" Lois scowled. She'd have to rearrange her schedule to follow Clark Kent. She should have handled him differently the night before. The older man nodded. "From what I hear, he likes to play at a little club just down the street. My brother-in-law heard him there one night, and that's the reason I booked him." Lois scowled. She'd have to book a flight to North Carolina and rearrange her schedule completely for the following day. Given the distance, she'd probably reach the place before Kent did. "Do you have the address?" The older man nodded and handed her a small sheet of paper. "I thought you might want this when I saw you talking to him last night." The older man hesitated. "Make sure to have him play here a couple of times after he makes it big. The publicity will do wonders for the place." "When did he leave?" It would be easier if she could catch him on the road. However, there wasn't any telling what route he'd take, and whether he'd make side trips to restaurants and the like. She didn't even know what vehicle he drove. "He didn't leave till after three." He'd had time to reach Durham. If Lois was going to catch up with him, she'd have to fly. She'd have to find a cramped seat in the middle of a group of tired travelers, screaming kids and horrendous food, and on this late notice, she'd have to pay outrageous prices for the privilege. Lois hated flying; she hoped that Clark Kent was worth it. ******************** Normally he cheated, using traces of his ability to gauge the emotions of his audience, but tonight he didn't feel like bothering. The music he played was for him, a catharsis for his pain. He had experience enough to know that the audience was with him without looking into their souls. It was enough. He'd left Josh at home; at times it was better for him not to be around his son. Josh could see deeper into his soul than anyone, and for the most part, Clark had been strong for him. At times, however, his grief grew to be almost more than he could bear. When that occurred, he took Josh to the home he'd made for them both. It was a temporary place, little more than a couple of rooms in another person's house, but he knew he'd never truly be able to return home again. The club was a dive, but it was close to home, and the manager was always willing to let him play a few sets. He knew quality, and knew better than to question the reason why Clark Kent was always surrounded by an aura of palpable tragedy when he came to play. It was enough that he came. No matter how fast Clark flew, he couldn't escape the demons within. He'd had them as long as he could remember; it was one reason he'd turned to music as an escape. Losing his father at an early age had traumatized him; he held desperately even now to the few memories he had of Jonathan Kent. His sense of being alone in the universe had only made things worse. Every child went through changes in his or her body during puberty; the changes in Clark's body had been a thousand times as bad. He'd come to regard himself as a freak, and Lana's reaction when she found out about his abilities hadn't helped. He was different from any other person that had ever been, and he was all alone. He'd thought it was unbearable, as a teenager; the sense of loneliness and alienation. He hadn't had any idea about what pain really was. Jonathan Kent was a dim, albeit beloved memory. Losing Lana and his mother had shown him the true meaning of despair. He'd always taken his mother's love for granted. She was the one constant in his world, a small, sad woman who gave herself wholly to her art, and to the life of her son. Clark had suspected for years that she'd lost something when his father had died, some essential spark of vitality. He'd never understood that, never understood how devastating it could be to lose the most important person in one's life. He'd been shocked by the feelings evoked by the Lane woman. The guilt had only come later. In a vague sort of way, he felt as though he was dishonoring the memory of his wife. It had only been two years, and the emotional wounds were still raw. What right did he have to feel desire? She'd been too perceptive, too intelligent. He'd felt as though she would be able to strip his secrets away in the space of a single breath. She overwhelmed him, and it was frightening. So he did what he'd been doing his whole life. He ran. Objectively, it was the right thing to do. She was a dangerous woman, bright, intelligent, inquisitive. She was determined, unwilling to let anything stop her. He'd had a glimpse of her emotions while playing for her in the audience, and he'd been inexplicably drawn to the purity of them. Her focus was something that he'd been desperately lacking. She was dangerous in many ways. Clark had never been able to stand by and watch when he was able to help. His mother had raised him better than that. He'd done as much as he could indirectly, but had been forced to risk exposure on occasion. He'd made mistakes, and people had gotten occasional glimpses of him. It always frightened him, leaving him waiting for the other shoe to drop. He wouldn't have hesitated if he'd been the only one at risk, but he'd always worried about his mother, about Lana, and eventually about Josh. It hadn't been bad while he was living with Lana. Smallville rarely had anything important happen, and by the time he heard about anything in the wider world, it was usually too late to do anything about it. With Lana's disapproval, it had been easy to drop out of sight. It had almost been a relief. He hadn't been as lucky since. Bigger cities had larger problems, and Clark felt compelled to intervene from time to time. He wouldn't want to live in a city the size of Metropolis for long. The cries of help and need would overwhelm him, and his secret would be out. If it wasn't for Josh, he wouldn't care. He'd lose all chances at a normal life, but it wouldn't matter in the face of saving lives. He could always fly to the north pole and dig himself out a place to live, an ice palace where he could live like a hermit away from the human race. He'd never love again, and it was wrong even to lust. Time seemed to conspire against him sometimes. If he'd met Lois Lane before meeting Lana, his life might have been completely different. He'd have had the confidence of youth, and might not have been afraid to have his face plastered on billboards and in music videos. He'd have felt with supreme confidence that he could protect his mother even if his unique abilities were discovered. He'd have focused on his career, on the music, and he'd have found a way to repay his mother for all the sacrifices she'd made for him over the years. He'd have bought her a big house and given her every luxury he could afford, and she would have been completely free for the first time to pursue the art that she loved. Lana might still be alive as well, enjoying the privileges of marriage to a wealthy man. But Josh wouldn't exist, and in spite of it all, Clark couldn't regret any world that brought his son into existence. He ignored the audience now, going beyond the blues, beyond folk music. He wanted to cheer himself up, not dwell over opportunities that had been lost long ago. In a deep dark place inside, Lois Lane's offer had been compelling, and not merely because of her personal attractiveness. It would be a chance to change the direction of his life, to escape the endless rut he'd fallen into. He'd been wrapped in a morass of darkness for so long, that he almost wanted to jump on any chance to escape. Lois Lane seemed like the sort of woman who would jump at any weakness, and he suspected that he wouldn't be able to spend much time with her without breaking down. It was better this way. She'd forget about him soon enough, and he'd avoid Metropolis. In the long run, this was yet another meaningless incident in a long line. The fact that he was flattered that a professional thought his music was good enough to take a risk on wasn't enough to make him seriously consider it. He tried to focus on the music, and for a time it worked. He allowed the entire world to shrink until it was just him and the stage. He didn't bother trying to look into the darkness of the audience, didn't bother trying to look beyond himself. The music was everything, and he played as well as he knew how. Unlike other musicians, Clark didn't actually need to take breaks. His throat never grew scratchy or dry, his hands and fingers never got tired. He never even needed to stretch his legs after sitting in one position for hours on end. Usually, he took breaks anyway. It was important not to seem any different from anyone else. Tonight, however, he didn't even bother with the pretense. He played song after song in an unending set, not giving himself a chance to think or reflect, or to do anything but play. The crowd's response was enthusiastic when he finally decided it was time to call it quits. Last call for alcohol was coming soon, and Clark preferred to leave before the drunks were out on the road. The dive was out of the way, and the twisting, narrow road that led to it could be a hazard late at night. He did what he could to avoid tragedy when he was in town, but had discovered that it was easier not to have to make explanations if he left before the drunks did. Usually, he would have had his van. It wasn't much, but he kept it to forestall any questions. The bar owner understood Clark's desire to leave before the drunks. He didn't have his van this time, due to circumstances beyond his control, but hopefully no one would notice. He smiled absently as he began to slip his guitar back into its case, then stiffened as he noted a familiar scent. While he could differentiate one person from another by their unique scent, he usually couldn't do it in a crowded room. The accumulation of smells usually overwhelmed his sense of smell. She didn't have any reason to be in North Carolina, unless she'd followed him. If she had, then she was far more determined than he would ever have believed. As he stepped off the small stage, he saw her standing near the back of the room. Setting his guitar case aside, he quickly made his way to her. Ignoring the bouncer at the door, Clark quickly pulled her aside. "I'm a little surprised to see you here," Clark said. "I was disappointed to miss you at Brannagan's. When I heard that you were headed in this direction, I didn't even take time to go home and get a change of clothes. It's not as easy as one might think to get a plane flight at the last moment. With layovers, it took forever to get here." Clark nodded absently. It was near closing time, and he didn't have his vehicle. While he could always pretend that someone had dropped him off, he hadn't made arrangements to be picked up. He had less than ten minutes before she would be wondering why he wasn't heading for his vehicle. Lois paused, and her voice changed. "It's funny. After three o'clock, no flights left until five fifteen, and I took the fastest flight here. I didn't get in until 11:30, and while I did spend a little time getting a rental car, I really don't understand how you could have been working here since nine." Clark felt the blood rush from his face for a moment, but his mind scrambled quickly for an explanation. He found one, and forced himself to shrug casually. "It's almost as fast to drive as it is to fly. It's easy to speed once you hit an interstate." He watched her carefully, wondering how much she knew. He'd gotten careless again, convinced that no one really cared enough about him to try and track his movements. Lana had warned him, but he'd never really listened. She watched him suspiciously. She had questions, he suspected, but with luck, she'd never get any evidence that he was lying. "Does it really matter how I got here? I'm not sure what bearing any of it has on my signing a contract with you." "At the most basic level, the main purpose of a lawyer is to discover the truth." Clark couldn't help but grin sarcastically. "You aren't that sort of lawyer. I doubt that anyone is these days." Lois ignored the insult. "Are you really happy with your life?" The patrons, many intoxicated, were beginning to file out of the bar, ignoring Clark and Lois as the bouncers began to usher them out. Clark wondered how long he had to convince Lois Lane to go back to Metropolis before they were both thrown out along with the customers. "I'm not sure what business that is of yours." Clark couldn't keep the resentment from his voice. Lois Lane didn't know a thing about him; who was she to judge the way he lived his life? "Is this really what you want to do for the rest of your life? Playing music for groups of drunks? Is that the life you want for your son?" "Leave Josh out of it," Clark said irritably as he watched small groups of intoxicated patrons pass by. He'd been tired of the whole scene for longer than he could remember. It surprised him; he'd always had a good-natured tolerance for drunks. Since alcohol didn't have any effect on him, he couldn't really know what they were experiencing. "He's involved whether he likes it or not. You're the only family he has; where you go, he goes. When you spend your life in a succession of rat-trap motels, so does he. When you spend all your time with musicians, drunks and bar people, so does he. Where are the children his own age that he should have as playmates? Where is the home, the stability, the life at school that he deserves?" "You don't give a damn about Josh. Is the life you are offering any better?" The fact that he'd recently begun worrying about every point she was listing only made Clark more irritable. His own sense of guilt had been bothering him for months. He'd suspected for a long time that he wouldn't be able to continue the life he'd been living forever. To have a stranger confront him with his own guilt was almost more than he could bear. "You'd probably still have to tour if you got a contract with a recording studio, but you'd be able to stay in one place for at least six months out of the year. You could offer Josh a stable environment, a home, a life at school. He could travel on tour with you during the summers." Clark shook his head. He'd dreamed of success every now and again, but he knew that it couldn't ever be. "I'd have to worry about paparazzi, stalkers, people out to kidnap Josh. He'd be isolated at home. At least this way he gets to see what the world is really like instead of a rich man's fantasy. That all assumes that I was successful. If I wasn't, it'd be all for nothing." "What would you lose? Compared to the money you are making now, it's likely that you'd make more even if your records were a flop." She was as beautiful as ever, completely focused on the question at hand. Once again Clark was struck by how long it had been since he'd been attracted to a woman, and once again he was reminded of his own guilt. Clark shook his head. He couldn't afford the publicity that went with a successful career, and he couldn't afford a personal relationship either. He doubted he'd ever be emotionally ready for a relationship, and he certainly couldn't face the trauma of revealing his abilities to horror and disgust ever again. The only reason he'd been able to maintain his secret for so long was because no one had any reason to suspect him. As a nobody, he was free to make minor mistakes. With the eyes of the world on him, it wouldn't take long for his secret to be out. If he'd been alone, he might have taken the risk. Despite what Lana had believed, he didn't think the government had the means to hold him against his will, or to dissect him. He wasn't alone, though. He had to worry about Josh, who was still as tender and vulnerable as any normal child his age. Even if Josh had already begun to develop some of the physical abilities Clark had, there would still be the issue of his mind. Josh hadn't dealt well with the deaths of his mother and grandmother. At times, Clark wondered if Josh would ever speak again. If it hadn't been for his son's ability to speak mind to mind, Clark would have sought the help of a psychiatric professional long ago. As it was, he felt as though they were barely holding it together. He'd given up music for Lana. He'd give up everything for Josh. "It wouldn't be a good idea." His voice was flat. Hopefully Lois Lane would take the hint and give up. "It's because of your secret, isn't it?" Clark stiffened before he could stop himself. He glanced at Lois and saw that she'd noticed. "I don't know what you are talking about," he said. Once again he wondered how much she knew, and he found himself growing more and more alarmed. They were almost alone in the bar by this point, and the service staff was beginning the process of cleaning for the evening. "How long do you think it will take me to find out?" she asked quietly. "You can take forever as far as I'm concerned. I don't have a secret." Clark felt his stomach clench in a way that he hadn't felt since the day a pair of policemen had shown up on his doorstep with grim expressions on their faces. Lois looked up into his face and nodded decisively. "Everyone has skeletons in their closet, but I've got a feeling that you've got something special." "I don't know what you expect to prove, but this doesn't seem like the way most people would try to sell a client on joining up." He hated the sound of desperation in his voice and hoped she didn't notice. "I'm not most people," Lois said. "Though some people won't admit it yet, I'm the best at what I do." "You're persistent enough, I suppose." Clark shook his head. "But you are wasting your time here." Lois pulled a card from one pocket of her coat and a pen from the other. "I'm staying at the motel a couple of miles down the road. Here's the phone number if you change your mind." Clark numbly took the card, trying to ignore the flash of awareness that occurred when their hands touched. Lois smiled knowingly as she turned to walk out into the darkness. Thunder crashed, and Clark thought it was an appropriate end to their conversation. She was a dangerous woman, and Clark knew that he'd have to talk to her again. He wondered why the thought produced equal measures of excitement and terror. ******************** She'd pushed Clark Kent, making points about his personal life, but nothing Lois'd said wasn't true. That was her main consolation as she stepped out into the darkness and away from Clark Kent. She kept her head high and her posture professional. Listening to the sound of her shoes clicking against the pavement, an observer wouldn't have thought that she was nervous. Lois had either ruined everything or won. She wouldn't know until he called her. It had been a risk bringing up personal matters, but Lois hadn't seen any other choice. Clark Kent's son seemed to be one of his primary reasons for not seeking fame. Without dealing with that issue from the outset, she'd never have convinced him. Nonetheless, she'd gotten personal, and she'd run the risk of offending him to the point of losing the deal. It was a risk that she always ran; negotiating the narrow gap between being too pushy and closing the deal required a keen judgment of character. Lois always did her homework; she felt slightly handicapped by not having full background information before attempting to close the deal. She hadn't been given any choice; once Clark Kent began to run, it would be difficult to find him. She'd struck a nerve in questioning him about his secret. It was difficult for her to imagine how he could travel from Metropolis to North Carolina so quickly. She'd felt sure that someone must have got the timeline wrong, but the expression on his face had confirmed that more was involved than simple speeding. She'd practically had to burn money to catch a last-minute flight, and it had still taken hours. Lois had always had more curiosity than was good for her; if Clark Kent did sign on, it'd be tough not to keep looking. Of course, the advantage of secrets was that they gave the possessor power. Lois had never actually blackmailed anyone, though she'd come close a time or two. If she could find out Kent's secret, it'd only make the deal easier to close. The muggy heat of the night air struck her like a fist as she pushed the door open to the outside world. She detested the south in the summer; the wet heat always made her feel a little like a drowned rat. She heard the first rumbling of thunder and cursed to herself, especially when the first fat, lazy drops of rain began to drip onto her face. The parking lot was nearly empty; most of the patrons had already left. Only a few vehicles remained, most likely belonging to the club employees. Most were older-model vehicles, battered and covered with mud and grime. None had the shiny newness of her rental car, a cherry- red Mustang. For a moment, Lois wondered which vehicle was Clark Kent's. She'd often thought that a person's choice of vehicle reflected their personality, though she knew that didn't hold true for people who didn't have the money to make their own choices. She didn't see anything that looked remotely like her conception of what he might drive. Lois looked back toward the darkened entrance to the club, and after seeing no sign that Clark Kent was coming out, she slid into the Mustang. As she slipped the key into the ignition, she took a last look at the darkened nightclub. Shattered glass from beer bottles lay in places, with trash blowing across the deserted lot. What she'd said to Clark Kent about his son was true. The life of a musician wasn't any sort of life for a family; what she offered was the best option without leaving music altogether. Lois turned the key, and the car purred to life. She'd done all she could do; the choices now were Clark Kent's. It had been a long day; the plane flight had been as bad as she had feared, and Lois had left so quickly that she hadn't even managed to find a change of clothes. She'd give Clark Kent no more than two days; she already had return tickets ready. If he was still interested afterwards, he had her number in Metropolis. The nightclub was outside the Durham city limits, and street lights were placed only intermittently. The road was winding, with thick stands of maple and hickory trees on all sides. Lois had thought it beautiful on her way, with the moon high in the sky. Now, with clouds obscuring what little light came from above, and the first few sprinkles of rain, it was a dangerous annoyance. What had been a scenic route had become treacherous and dark. Lois focused carefully on the road. She was a veteran of the streets of Metropolis, and while the traffic wasn't as bad as the traffic in Manhattan, it was bad enough. She knew that the hotel was only five miles down the road; while she enjoyed taking risks, she wasn't stupid. The rain began to fall more quickly, fat, heavy drops that forced Lois to switch her windshield wipers on. The regular rhythm as they moved back and forth was a counterpoint to the rain, which came faster the farther Lois drove. Lois scowled, idly wondered how her clients were faring. Her secretary was adept at screening unwanted calls, and she'd been instructed to forward messages only if there was an emergency. That she hadn't had any calls yet was encouraging. The problems would begin tomorrow, when the time came for the appointments and meetings that had had to be moved later into the week and on into the next. It was difficult to get time off in her profession; Lois hadn't had a vacation since she'd left law school. The road grew slicker; Lois slowed accordingly. It was becoming harder to see the sudden curves and turns in the road, and Lois gritted her teeth. She'd have been happier to be in her Jeep Cherokee; the Mustang was low-slung and likely to stall in any deep pockets of water. Lois had never really been the outdoors type. The beauties of nature had always seemed like something meant to be looked at through a window on the way to somewhere exciting and important. Only repeated trips to parts of the south had given her any appreciation for land that wasn't covered with high-rise buildings. At the moment, she would have preferred the safety of nice, well lit city streets. The road she was on had no shoulder, or she would have pulled over until the rain thinned. As the road rose, she thought she saw lights in the distance, and she wanted to sag with relief. The lights started shortly before her hotel did. It wouldn't be long before she reached the safety of her hotel room. She didn't see the car sitting motionless in the middle of the road until it was almost too late. She slammed on her brakes, but even at the speed she was going, it was futile. The wheels slid sickeningly as Lois did everything she could to avoid the collision. She tensed, and shuddered as the rental car spun, watching in horror as the hulk of the car surged toward the passenger door. There was a thump; it wasn't the sickening, curiously non-metallic sound Lois had come to associate with cars crashing, but Lois wasn't in any position to appreciate it as her head slammed into the window. It felt as though her stomach dropped out from beneath her. She was stunned for an endless moment. When she finally managed to open her eyes, she was startled to see a manlike form standing outside her window. Before she could react, the figure pulled her door open. To her relief, it was Clark Kent. He ignored the rain as he quickly checked to see if she was injured. His touch was gentler than she would have expected. She groaned as he shone some sort of light into her eyes. "You've got a nasty bump on your head." His voice sounded oddly guilty. "Let's get you out of here." He pulled her from the car, and out into the rain. He closed the door behind them, and lifted her into his arms as though she was as light as a feather. It felt good to be carried by him, comforting in a way she hadn't even experienced when she was a child. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the fact that she was getting soaked. It had been so long since she'd been held by anyone that she was shocked at how much she'd missed it. It seemed like only a moment before he set her down on her feet. She wanted to protest, but didn't. Despite the throbbing in her head, she still had her dignity. She was more than 30 years old; she wasn't a little girl to sag into the arms of the first man who came along. She felt a little woozy, but managed to keep to her feet by leaning on him. She heard the sound of a key turning in a lock, and in the next moment, they were out of the rain. She'd gotten the best room in the motel, but that wasn't much. It was clean; otherwise, it was just a bed, a dresser, a television, nightstand and bathroom. She shivered; the room seemed colder than she would have expected. She'd set the window air conditioner on low before she'd left, knowing that most room units were weak at best. Now that she was soaked, she couldn't stop shivering. She felt a strange sense of warmth beginning at her feet and slowly rising. When she opened her eyes, the sensation stopped. He'd gotten towels from somewhere - the bathroom, she supposed - and quickly began drying her. When she finally thought to protest, he handed the towels to her. "Go ahead and get yourself dried off. I'll go back for your car." He was out the door before she could respond. Lois cursed when she realized that she hadn't brought any changes of clothes; she'd left so quickly that all she had was a small travel pack with a comb, a tiny toothbrush, toothpaste and mouthwash, which she kept in her briefcase for emergencies. She rarely carried a purse, and was careful to keep personal items in a small, nondescript case in her briefcase. The briefcase was in her car, as was her laptop computer. Realizing that he would return soon, Lois quickly moved into the bathroom and began to dry herself off. Her pants weren't as wet as she had feared; a trace of warmth still clung to them. She must have gotten a warm draft from somewhere. Her top was soaked, however, and she didn't have anything to replace it with. She glanced up at herself and winced as she saw the bruise spreading on the side of her face. It would be difficult to explain to clients and the people she dealt with; she hoped she'd be able to conceal the worst of it with makeup. The back of her shirt wasn't as wet as the rest; he'd carried her in his arms and her body had blocked most of the rain. It hadn't been until she'd stood up at the last moment that the rain had gotten bad. Lois cursed to herself again. She was almost certain that Clark Kent was going to be back in the next few minutes; he'd said something about going after her car. She stepped out into the room wearing only her bra and pants. With a suspicious eye on the door, she quickly shut off the air-conditioning unit at the base of the window. She peered through the curtains and saw that it was still raining heavily. She could barely make out Clark Kent as he crossed the parking lot. She dashed back to the bathroom and slipped back into her wet blouse. She buttoned it quickly, but didn't bother tucking it in; she could hear Clark Kent knocking on her door and she didn't want to leave him outside in the rain. The roof didn't offer much of an overhang to protect him from the rain. She opened the door and ushered him in. "I got your car into the lot. We'll have to take a look at it tomorrow to see if there was any damage." From the impact, Lois would have expected at least some damage. It hadn't felt like a normal crash, however, and Lois could certainly understand his not wanting to examine the car for damage. "What about the other car?" "It was probably one of the drunks from the club stalled out in a pool of water. It happens sometimes; usually they just stagger home." He grimaced. "It's a bad stretch of road." "That's a good way to get someone killed!" Lois said indignantly. Clark nodded soberly. "People aren't always as careful as they should be with the safety of others." He glanced at the bruise on her cheek and looked away, a slight look of guilt on his face. For the first time Lois noticed that he was carrying a dark bundle in his hands. A closer look showed that it was a plastic garbage bag wrapped around a bundle. She gestured toward it and he smiled gently. "You said you hadn't had time to get any changes of clothes, so I thought you might like to borrow something until your clothes had a chance to dry." He unwrapped the bundle. Inside was a thick terrycloth robe and a black T-shirt like the one she'd seen him wearing before. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. It would be better than standing miserable, or facing him wearing nothing more than a sheet. She slipped back into the bathroom and slipped out of her wet blouse. She dried off yet again, then slipped into the T-shirt. It had a clean, cottony smell, along with an underlying scent that she was coming to associate with him. She found it vaguely comforting. It had been tight on him, but it almost engulfed her, enough that she felt comfortable with removing her wet bra. She left the pants on and slipped into the robe. A quick check in the mirror showed that she wasn't going to win any beauty contests; her hair was plastered to the sides of her head and there wasn't much she could do about it. "So you live nearby?" she asked as she stepped back into the room. He was standing by the window looking out onto the parking lot outside. He glanced back at her and nodded. "I share the rent on a house just around the corner. Josh and I stay there sometimes." He didn't look at her, continuing to stare out the window. Lois had known, of course, that he lived nearby. It was one reason that she'd chosen the hotel. Lois didn't remember seeing any headlights, though it was possible that she'd been too stunned to notice. She didn't remember being put into his vehicle, after all. She doubted that he'd carried her the mile between the site of the accident and the motel, or she would have been even more drenched and miserable than she already was. Whatever the reason, she'd been lucky that he'd come along. Lois hesitated, then said, "Thank you. You didn't have to help me." He glanced back at her. "Yes, I did." That simple statement said a great deal about what sort of person he was. Lois knew a hundred people in the entertainment industry; the majority wouldn't even slow down when driving by a car wreck. "Thanks for watching out for me." "My wife and mother died in an automobile accident. I couldn't stand by and let that happen to anyone else." Lois could understand survivor's guilt. That Clark had lost his wife and his mother on the same day must have been almost unbearable. "You can't save everyone." "I can try." He continued to stare out the window, into the rain. The silence stretched on longer this time, with the only sound being that of the rain. Lois was almost startled when Clark finally spoke. "It looks like it's starting to let up." He pulled her keys from his pocket and tossed them onto the bed. "I guess it's about time to head out." "Don't just toss my offer out. Think about it, really." Clark nodded. "I'll consider it." He paused. "You should get a doctor to take a look at your neck. It'll probably be at least stiff in the morning." Lois nodded. Her neck wasn't hurting at the moment, but her face was throbbing, and she had a headache. She knew that neck injuries often didn't start hurting until hours later. He'd taken a risk in moving her without securing her neck; she was tempted to say something, but decided not to. He hadn't had to rescue her, after all, and there had been a strong risk of being struck by yet another car coming up from behind. "I'd like to discuss all this with you tomorrow, in more detail. Once I've had a chance to get a little better organized." He nodded somberly. "I can't guarantee that I'll change my mind." "Just give me a chance to go over the specifics." As long as he was willing to listen, Lois had a good chance of convincing him. He was motionless for a moment, then nodded curtly. "I'll see you tomorrow for lunch." Lois smiled, and was pleased to notice that he had a sudden deer-in- the-headlights expression. On an impulse, she stepped forward and offered him her hand. "It's a deal, then." He took her hand almost reluctantly, and there was the same electric spark she'd noticed before when her flesh connected with his. The handshake lasted only a moment; before she could react, he pulled away and stepped out into the slowing rain. She stepped to the door but he was already gone. She couldn't help but be excited at the thought of having lunch with him. It was as close to a date as she'd had in years; she had a sneaking suspicion that it would be utterly unlike the countless business lunches which had been part of her life since she'd first began working. She was actually excited to see Clark again, which led her to another thought. When had she begun thinking of him as just "Clark"? It was going to take everything she had to maintain a professional distance. The sort of man who would look out for orphans, strays, and old men who didn't have anyone sounded too good to be true. Clark Kent had secrets just as Lois did. Perfection was a myth. The sort of man that Lois wanted didn't exist. A man who was strong, yet willing to be her equal, who was romantic without being weak. Lois dreamed of a man who would walk by her side, who would be able to keep up with her and sometimes make her work to keep up. Lucy said that her expectations were too high, and Lois was slowly starting to believe it. No matter how handsome and nice Clark seemed, he wasn't the man of her dreams. He wasn't a white knight on a stallion ready to ride to her rescue. He was simply a man. Lois would keep her mind on business, and with luck she'd succeed. There wasn't any point in fantasizing about a man who didn't exist outside her dreams. Supermen were the creatures of fantasy, and Lois lived in the real world. ******************** The sound of metal impacting metal still fueled his nightmares. Clark trembled, hovering directly above the motel as he watched Lois Lane peer out into the rainy darkness. He'd almost allowed history to repeat itself, almost allowed a woman to die because of his fear that she'd discover his secret. Human life was fragile; he'd learned that on the day he realized that his father wasn't ever coming home. He'd been terrified; at the age of three, his parents had been gods. If they couldn't even keep themselves safe, how could they protect him? No one was safe, and he'd been desperately afraid. He was afraid now. Every time he stopped a car accident from happening, it was like a knife in the gut. He made mistakes, grew careless, became rattled by the similarities between the accident he was facing, and the one which had changed his life forever. This time was different. Always before he'd been a stranger. On the few occasions he'd been seen, it had always been by drunks or children, people who weren't reliable witnesses, people who did not know him. Lois Lane knew him: she knew his name, and she knew where he lived, since she'd had him investigated. She knew more than enough to be a danger to him, and she had the intelligence to piece together the clues to who and what he was. He didn't think she'd seen him, but he'd still made far too many mistakes. Flying her the short distance to the hotel, warming her; he'd been so rattled by the close call that he'd lost all sense of caution. She'd been hurt, and it was his fault. He hadn't been able to see any further than that. His only hope was that she had been just as shaken up as he had been; if she hadn't, it would mean trouble. Lois Lane struck him as being both intelligent and perceptive. He'd have to move very carefully around her in the future. He finally allowed himself to relax when she closed the door. She was a threat in more ways than he cared to admit. He was attracted to her in a way that he hadn't been attracted to anyone since Lana. It made him want to confide in her, trust her, and he knew that was more than foolish. He wasn't free to fall in love again. It wasn't fair to ask a woman to become involved with someone who wasn't even human. Even Lana had been troubled by the revelation, and she had loved him. He couldn't expect another woman to accept him when the knowledge had almost destroyed the love of his wife. Yet after Lana, he could not imagine beginning a relationship with a woman with a lie. Even if he could find a woman who could accept his differences, his secret was a threat to everyone he loved. Lana had lived every day as though a sword had been hanging over their heads. She'd been convinced that government agents would come to take Josh away. While Josh shared Clark's secret, he would presumably become less vulnerable as the years passed. However, any normal woman either of them became involved with would be at risk. He'd been willing to take that risk with Lana. He hadn't understood how hard it would be for a woman to live with a secret like his. He'd been young and innocent, and he'd believed in happily-ever-afters. He'd been convinced that they'd find a way to make it all work, find a way for Lana finally to accept what he was, and what his son would likely become. The chance of that happening had ended in the space of a moment. Josh was all he had left of her. His birth had been very hard; they'd both known that whatever it was that made him different from everyone else was probably the cause. Clark had felt guilty about that, guilty for depriving Lana of the chance to have other children. She'd never blamed him openly, but there had been something in her eyes, something that had made his soul wither a little. Losing his mother had been devastating; losing Lana had only made it worse. He'd entered an endless spiral of depression. No matter how strong he'd tried to appear to be for his son, inside it had felt as though his soul was dying, a little more every day. He'd worried when Josh had stopped speaking, but his misery had been so total that it had been hard to concentrate on anything in particular. He'd been lucky that the Langs had stepped in; he never could have managed the funeral arrangements on his own. He might have continued to rot inside if his son hadn't reached out to him and touched him with his mind. It hadn't taken long for Clark to realize that he couldn't hide anything from his son. Josh had seen the shriveled thing his soul had become, and it had hurt him. Clark had felt his horror and pain, and he'd had a revelation. His mother and Lana were dead, but Josh was alive. He'd been wallowing in self-pity, and it was hurting the only family he had left. He'd thrown himself into his music, using it as a form of catharsis. It had helped, in the same way it had helped when he was a teenager with a million questions about who he was and why he was different from everyone else. He hadn't been able to face the house he'd spent days and nights with Lana in, and the farmhouse where he'd grown up had been even worse. He'd taken to the road, fleeing his demons, and for a time, it had been enough. He'd managed to cheer himself enough to reassure his son. Josh hadn't seen Clark's mind before the accident, or he would have known how much darkness remained. He hadn't seen the joy Clark had lost, or he would have wept at the contrast. Clark had made an uneasy truce with his demons for the sake of his son; he'd never really banished them. Mostly, he'd allowed himself to become numb. Seeing Lois Lane tonight, watching her almost die, had brought it all back. The pain, the anger, the rage at the uncaring world that had given him the power to make a difference, and then hadn't allowed him to save the people who had meant more to him than anyone in all the world. His body was shaking, and it wasn't from the cold. Calming himself, he looked back toward the accident scene. He'd moved the car already so that it wouldn't endanger any more lives, but he'd purposefully ignored the driver. Given his feelings about drunk drivers, he'd felt it best not to deal with the man for a time. A single moment of rage would be enough to kill, and Clark never wanted that sort of guilt. Nevertheless, as he flashed through the air, his eyes penetrating the rainy darkness, he trembled. He'd seen the man stumbling by the side of the road before. He had little doubt that the man had seen him playing in the club. Clark suspected that he'd left the vehicle to throw up, and had been surprised not to find it on his way back. Needing to be careful, he arced around behind the man. If he knew the drunk by sight, the drunk might recognize him as well. The man was stumbling down the road, ignoring the light drizzle as he looked around, moving with an exaggerated sense of caution. The man stumbled, and Clark grabbed him from behind. Anger made Clark squeeze tightly, enough to make the man protest in pain. He was in control, however, when they both began to rise into the air. This wasn't the man's first infraction. Most locals were cautious enough to have at least one member of their party at least half sober to drive them home. Those who didn't were known to have troubles with flat tires, tires that were burned instead of slashed. Rumors had even arisen of a ghost. Clark had encouraged the rumors; it helped to keep people from investigating the burn marks too closely, or why they only occurred when a certain musician was in town. This man was a belligerent drunk; Clark had burned his tires on a number of occasions, yet the man never seemed to learn. "Lemme go." The man's voice was slurred. He was too drunk even to realize that his feet were no longer touching the ground. They both rose higher, through the sodden misty air. Only when they began to pass through the clouds did the man begin to realize that something was wrong. Clark ignored his struggles; the man would hurt himself long before he could loosen Clark's grip on him. "You almost killed a woman tonight." Clark kept his voice to a low, unrecognizable hiss. The man didn't react at all for a moment. When he did, it was only to renew his struggles. "Let... me... go." The man spoke slowly and clearly. Clark considered for a moment, then did as the man asked. The man shrieked as he fell, and for a moment Clark had an image of the frozen moment of time when he'd opened the door to see two state troopers. He'd known instantly why they were there, and in a single instant his world had collapsed. For a single moment Clark was tempted to ignore the man's shrieking. A dark place existed within him, a place that wanted revenge, but he knew that his mother never would have wanted that. Violence damaged the soul, and his mother wouldn't have wanted him to harm himself by harming anyone else. Clark sighed as he flashed downward. His parents had taught him right from wrong. His few memories of his father had shown him the sort of man Clark wanted to be. His father wouldn't have wanted him to do wrong; most likely, he would have argued that Clark had even more of an obligation to do right than a normal person, because he had so much more power to help, or to harm. He grabbed the man ten feet from the ground, allowing them both to drop to reduce the impact, landing with a jarring thud. He released the man, who fell forward, throwing up yet again. Clark waited patiently for him to finish, then leaned down and spoke in his ear again. "Risk another person's life and I'll find you. Next time, I might not be so fast to catch you." The man fell to his side, and his eyes rolled up in his head. Clark checked him quickly with his special vision, reassuring himself that he hadn't actually harmed him. He might have had a few bruises, but mostly, he'd just passed out. Clark grabbed him, and in a quick flight took them both to the man's car, which he'd placed in the parking lot. He stuffed the man into the driver's seat, though he took the keys. Looking around quickly, he flashed to the motel payphone. He dropped a quarter and a dime into the phone, and then spoke into the receiver. "I'd like to report a drunk. He's passed out in the middle of Richard Trice Road, about one mile from the motel." Clark listened for a moment, and then said, "He's completely blocking the road. If you don't send someone out quick, he's going to cause an accident!" He glanced at Lois's window, and at the drunk in the car. No movement from either place. "No. I've done my duty as a Good Samaritan. I don't want to get involved. I just thought I'd better inform the police before someone got hurt." He hung up the phone, taking care to rub any fingerprints off the receiver with his handkerchief. A moment later, he was beside the drunk's car again. He glanced around for a moment, glad that the rain was beginning to pick up again. Once he was sure that no one was watching, he bent down and grabbed the car from the bottom. He lifted it carefully, and a moment later he was flying through the air. He returned it to its original position, making certain to switch the lights on and to drop the keys in the floorboard. He then rose a hundred feet into the air and began watching in both directions. If anyone approached other than the police, they'd quickly get a view of an unidentified flying automobile, assuming they could make it out in the rain. An eternity passed while Clark waited for the police to arrive. He wouldn't allow himself to relax even when they approached for fear that they might not see the vehicle in the rain and the darkness and with the hills. If they seemed to be approaching too fast, he'd do what he'd done with Lois's car, while being more careful. Having the drunk face justice for DUI charges was the best solution. The city had been cracking down in recent years, and if Clark's suspicions were correct, this wouldn't be the man's first offense. He'd face stiff penalties; the local prosecutor was zealous in going after drunk drivers. His secret would be served as well. If Lois had discovered the man's vehicle in the parking lot, she'd have wondered how it had been moved without a tow truck. Clark relaxed as he saw the police car moving cautiously along the road. They slowed in plenty of time, and a moment later, both officers were out of their vehicle. It was only as they pulled the man out of the car that he realized that he should have placed the car closer to the motel. He'd told Lois Lane that they weren't very far from the motel, yet he'd put the car back in its original position. He was rattled. His reaction to what had almost happened, his anger at the drunk, his attraction for Lois Lane; it was all mixed up together. He was continuing to make mistakes, and some of them were dangerous. He knew he couldn't return to Josh like this; the boy would know instantly that something was wrong. He had to calm himself, bring himself back to the state of numbness that had been his constant companion for the past two years. He'd discovered that Josh could sense him even while he was asleep, if he was close enough. Distance helped, though Josh could reach him even from far away if he needed to. Lois Lane made him feel, and that was a dangerous thing. He'd spent a great deal of effort in channeling his emotions only through his music. He couldn't afford to lose that, for his son's sake if nothing else. He allowed himself to rise once he saw the drunk being pushed in the police car while the other officer started up the drunk's car. He ignored the rain; he was already soaked and a little more water didn't concern him much. He'd had so much rain in his life that he almost didn't know what sunshine was like anymore. It took only a moment to rise above the clouds to the secret place he'd shown only to Josh. It was as beautiful as it always had been, this place between the heavens and the earth. He'd come as a teenager, seeking solace in the quiet beauty of the stars and of a moon that seemed to fill the sky. It had been his special place, the place he'd retreated to when everything had become too overwhelming, when he'd felt the most utterly lost and alone. He'd wanted to share it with Lana. Sharing his secret place would have been his way of showing her that he wasn't alone any longer, that he had no secrets from her, and that he took solace in the love they shared together. Unfortunately, she'd always refused. She'd never enjoyed flying with him. Being high above the ground had terrified her; the thought that someone might see them had frightened her even more. He'd told her what it meant to him, but she'd always refused to come. He'd always hoped she would change her mind. She had never had the chance. It had only been after her death that he'd dared to take Josh. Lana would have been horrified at the thought of his taking their only son thousands of feet into the air, but flying was one of the few ways Clark knew of dealing with pain. Flying and music had always been his ways, and Josh had been too young to take solace in music. Josh had loved flying as much as Clark did. With any luck, it would be something Josh could do himself one day. Flying was the best part of being different, of being alone in the world. It was almost spiritual, soaring aloft through the air, letting his cares fall far behind. If he'd learned to fly earlier, Clark might even never have bothered with music. He was beginning to relax now, as he soared above the clouds. Flying was a luxury he didn't often allow himself except when traveling from city to city, and then he was usually carrying Josh and was loaded down with bags. Clark allowed himself a barrel roll in the air, and a leisurely flip. He spun as quickly as he could, driving the moisture from his clothes. When he was done, he was only slightly damp, no longer soaked. Flying felt as good as it always did, and the place between the moon and the clouds had always calmed him. Clark felt his tensions begin to ease as he began to release the fears that had gripped him earlier. At last, he began to think rationally. Lois's head and neck injuries were only minor; he'd checked. While head wounds could be dangerous, Clark doubted that she'd suffer anything worse than a headache and a stiff neck. Her pain was his responsibility, but if he hadn't acted, she might have been killed. He'd made a few mistakes, but he could take care of them with a few well-placed fibs. He'd meant to claim that the accident had happened close to the motel. With any luck, she wouldn't bother to check the police reports, especially if he kept her busy. He hadn't done anything that couldn't be explained away, and even a woman as bright as Lois Lane wouldn't be looking for supernatural explanations. Even if she did, she wouldn't be able to explain what he was. He himself didn't know. As he angled downward, heading for home, Clark sighed. He and Josh were alone in the world, and no matter how distracting Lois Lane proved to be, she was unlikely to change that. ******************** The car didn't have a single scratch on it, which was impossible. Lois had checked three times, even checking the passenger's side, and she couldn't find a single sign of any damage. If it hadn't been for the throbbing pain in her head and the stiffness of her neck, she'd have thought it had all been a dream. Her head had slammed against the window when the car had come to an abrupt stop. If the car had simply slid to a halt on its own, impacting nothing, Lois would be pain-free. The car had definitely struck something, but there wasn't a single sign of what that might have been. It was a mystery, and Lois hated mysteries. On the good side, it meant that she wouldn't need to call her insurance company, which was something she'd been dreading. Her insurance rates were expensive to begin with because Metropolis was considered a high risk area, and even higher because she'd been caught speeding on a few occasions. Adding a wreck on top of it all would have been more than she needed to deal with. Nevertheless, she couldn't understand how the car hadn't suffered a single scratch, and she hated the fact that she didn't have the slightest clue. She was a little suspicious about how quickly Clark Kent had shown up at the accident site. Lois didn't recall the trip to the motel, and that worried her. If she'd blacked out, then her injuries were more severe than she'd thought. The line between unconsciousness and brain damage was razor thin. Lois would need to see a doctor to rule out serious complications if she'd actually blacked out. She didn't have any signs of a concussion, but losing consciousness was serious. She made a mental note to drop by a local clinic. Clark had carried her, and the trip had seemed to take no longer than the walk from one end of the parking lot to the other. Yet Lois had been sure that the lights of the motel were at least a mile away. Sliding into the vehicle, Lois experimentally turned the key in the ignition. The engine purred to life. Assured that the engine hadn't been somehow damaged, Lois closed the door, snapped her seatbelt into place and pulled out of the parking lot. Driving slowly along the winding road, Lois carefully watched her rear view mirror to make sure that no one smashed into her from behind. It would be ironic to have a real wreck after the rental car had miraculously came up undamaged. Lois grinned as she saw a flash of color by the side of the road; no matter how hard she'd looked, she hadn't been able to find one of her shoes. She glanced in the rear view mirror and was barely able to make out the motel through the stands of trees. She'd been right in thinking that it was a mile away from the spot she'd had her accident. The road was narrow enough that she couldn't turn easily, not without risking someone flying over a hill and barreling into her. However, she remembered seeing a dirt road a half mile ahead which would make the task a little easier. Lois drove a short way, then nodded with satisfaction. The road was graveled so that it wouldn't be a mud pit during the frequent rains, and it wasn't large enough for more than one car to pass at a time. It did allow her to turn into it and then back up onto the road facing the other direction with a reasonable amount of safety. She stopped at the top of the hill and switched her blinkers on. In daylight anyone should be able to see her vehicle in plenty of time to stop. She slipped down the road and found her shoe. It was muddy, but wearable. Thick puddles of water still remained, but Lois could see a long, black set of skid marks where she'd tried to stop. She couldn't see any sign of the other vehicle. More importantly, she couldn't see any sign of anything she might have hit instead of the other car. It would have had to have been something fairly massive to have stopped her vehicle. If it had been a rock, Lois suspected it would simply have been moved to the side of the road until a later road crew could take care of it; it hadn't been all that long since she'd had her accident. For the first time, she wondered how Clark Kent had gone back for her car. If he'd driven back, he would have had to leave his own vehicle in the same precarious position as hers had been in. Even at a brisk walk, it would have taken at least 15 minutes for him to walk the mile to her vehicle, and he hadn't been gone nearly that long. He would have been soaked, and yet her seats were entirely dry. None of it added up. The only possible explanation would have had him driving a tow truck, and Lois had a strong suspicion that Clark Kent didn't even know where to find a tow truck. Lois wasn't entirely certain what sort of equipment one would need to use a regular vehicle to tow another, but she knew that Clark Kent hadn't had time to hook it all up, tow her car and remove it in the time he'd been gone. She doubted he'd have had time even with a normal tow truck, though it might just be possible. She'd parked illegally on a few occasions, and had been surprised at the swiftness with which some Metropolis towers worked. Still, it had been raining heavily, and Lois would have thought that would have made the entire process much more difficult. Glancing around one final time, Lois slipped her shoe on. She grimaced at the mud, but it was better than walking around in one stockinged foot. Clark Kent was lying, and Lois fully intended to discover the truth. First, though, she needed to go shopping. Lois had left without as much as a single change of clothes, and she was already feeling unclean. She was going to have some very pointed questions for Clark Kent when they next met. ******************** "You let Lamar drive the van." Clark's voice was flat as he stared at the older woman. She was heavyset, and the expression on her coffee- colored face was stubborn and unmoving. She stood with her arms crossed in front of her, and Clark knew that he'd taken the wrong tactic. She'd defend her son to her dying breath if she had to. "He's a better driver than he used to be." Her voice was defensive. "And you weren't supposed to be back for almost a month." "He's not listed on my insurance policy; you are." Given the prices insurance companies charged for sixteen-year-old male drivers, Clark couldn't have afforded to have Lamar on his policy in any case. That was assuming that he would have been comfortable having Lamar drive his vehicle without an adult supervising, which he wasn't. Maisy's sullen posture relaxed slightly and she sighed. "I was on call all night, and I couldn't take him to school." "He didn't just take it to school, though did he? It looks as though he drove it through a mud pit." If he'd had the van, he wouldn't be in as much trouble with Lois Lane. It wasn't fair to allow his irritation about that to spill over to the woman in front of him. However, he had every right to be angry about Lamar driving the car. He'd seen the boy drive and he was a menace. "He met with some friends after school." Clark sighed. He'd been lucky to get the van back without any serious dents. "I only left the key with you for emergencies." He'd have taken the van with him everywhere he went, but it would be tough to hide something that size while flying low, and flying high, it would show up on radar. He'd tried it once, and had barely managed to hide it from the F-15's the government sent up to intercept it. He supposed that she didn't have much of a choice. Maisy Adams was a single mother whose only possession of any value was the home she'd inherited from her parents. She'd barely been able to keep afloat financially before he'd shown up to rent two of her rooms. Even now, she didn't have it easy. Teenage boys were expensive at the best of times, and Lamar had been growing more sullen with each passing year. Maisy had a great many worries; Clark hated to add to them, but he had to insist on this issue. He wasn't certain that he'd be able to replace the van if it was wrecked, and he needed it. Most places weren't like Metropolis or New York. In those cities, people could get along easily without vehicles. In the rest of the world, Clark needed to drive to do things like buy groceries, get his son vaccinated, and reach gigs. He couldn't fly during the daytime, not and hope to keep his secret. "He's been saving up to get a car, but it's the insurance that's going to be the real problem." Clark nodded. Lamar hadn't had any accidents yet, though that was more a matter of luck than skill. Still, insurance rates were monstrously high. "You haven't had any luck in getting a raise?" Clark heard the sound of a car door slamming. It was unusual for this time of the day, but not really worth his attention, so he ignored it. He heard Lamar prowling sullenly through the other end of the house. Clark knew that the boy wasn't doing drugs; during his years in the music industry, he'd learned to see the signs from a mile away. He couldn't smell any drugs on the boy in any case, and as near as he could tell, his nose was even more sensitive than that of a bloodhound. Still, he suspected that the boy was finding more trouble than he could handle. He could only hope for Maisy's sake that Lamar came to his senses before he got in too deep. Clark wasn't around often enough to set any kind of example, and Lamar treated Clark and Josh with an ill- disguised rancor. "They tell me that the company has been laying people off. It's only because I'm a good worker with seniority that they keep me around at all." The economy had suffered a recent downturn, and Maisy was doing the best she could. Normally, she had no problems defending herself or her son to anyone. For the first time Clark noticed a defeated expression on her face, a subtle slumping of her shoulders that indicated that her problems were more severe than he had imagined. "Maybe Lamar could find work," Clark said gently. "It might do him good." Clark knew what it was like to be a teenager, confused about his place in the world. Nothing was worse than having large stretches of time with nothing to do but think about how different he was. He'd never been sullen, but he had been occasionally moody, and he'd been happy to discover music. "He's been looking, but he thinks he's too good to work at McDonalds, and he doesn't have the education to get anything better." Maisy sighed. "He manages to get an odd job here or there, but not enough to make much of a difference." "He'll find something." Clark tried to sound reassuring. "In the meantime, I need my van. Try to be a little more careful." She sighed and nodded. "It was just so convenient..." His head snapped up as he heard the words, "... mad because I took the van and he didn't have anything to drive." He winced as he heard Lois Lane's voice reply, "Isn't that interesting." "I think I just heard the door," he said quietly. "I'm expecting a visitor." He stepped away from Maisy and out into the hallway, heading for the living room. He stopped, shocked when he saw her crouched on one knee beside Josh. She'd cleaned up since he'd last seen her, and was now wearing a navy blue blouse tucked into a tight pair of jeans. She looked like many of the women he would have grown up with, yet somehow much more beautiful. Josh was looking up at her and smiling. He hadn't smiled at anyone other than Clark since his mother had died. ******************** Small children made Lois a little nervous. She'd practically had to raise Lucy, but Lucy wasn't that much younger than Lois herself was. Dealing with five-year-olds was a little like dealing with space aliens; Lois had no idea where to start. Joshua Kent was different. Unlike the other children Lois occasionally noticed, he wasn't continually running and screaming, or wheedling in an irritating whiny voice. Instead, he was unnaturally silent and still. He had the same hidden pain in his eyes that his father had, a certain aura of somberness and sorrow. He'd stared up at her for an endless moment before hesitantly holding one hand out to her. He'd seemed vulnerable in that moment and she'd sensed that her rejection would hurt him. When she'd knelt down beside him, he'd rewarded her with a slow, shy smile, and she'd had the oddest sense that he'd judged her worthy of some indefinable purpose. She heard footsteps and looked up to see Clark Kent entering the room. He stopped and stared at them both, an expression of shock on his face. Lois had a momentary impulse to rush to a mirror and see whether she'd suddenly developed a second head. Lois glanced back at Josh, who was still smiling at her. He released her hand and stepped back, and she slowly rose to her feet. Clark cleared his throat. "I guess you managed to find some other clothes." He was purposefully looking away from her now, and Lois wondered if it was the small bruise on her forehead, or if it was something else. She'd done her best to conceal it with makeup. She glanced down at herself, then said, "I didn't have much time to shop, but most of my things are still a little damp." He didn't say anything, instead watching his son, who hadn't taken his eyes off Lois. "I wanted to thank you for everything, and I came by to return the clothes." She gestured toward the small pile of clothes on the couch. "There's no telling how long I would have been out there if you hadn't come along." "You'd almost reached the motel already. You could have walked there as soon as the rain had let up a little. I didn't do anything that anyone else wouldn't have done." His tone was dismissive, but he still didn't look her in the eyes. Lois stiffened. He was lying, and she knew it. "So I was almost to the parking lot, hmm?" Clark nodded. "You weren't very far at all." He hesitated. "Did you have a doctor look at your head and neck?" For the first time he actually looked directly at her, and she thought she saw a flash of something; guilt, concern and desire wrapped up into one package. "They didn't find any swelling, but the doctor prescribed pain medication anyway." He winced and looked at her. "I'm sorry you got hurt." Lois watched him closely as she said, "I could have sworn that I hit something, yet somehow, miraculously, there wasn't a single dent on the car." "You were lucky." He looked away quickly, but not before Lois saw a flash of guilt in his eyes. Clark knew something about her accident, more than he was telling her, and he was lying about the rest. "Do you think they'll find the drunk?" Clark nodded. "I called the police, and the car has already been impounded. I doubt the drunk got very far, and even if he did, he should be easy to track down from the license plate number." Clark glanced back up at the slight bruise on her forehead. It suddenly occurred to Lois that she could use his odd appearance of guilt for her own purposes. "The doctor said I really shouldn't be driving, not once I take the pain medication." She hesitated carefully. "I don't want to take any until I've had something to eat. I haven't had breakfast, and taking those sorts of pills on an upset stomach..." "But you ARE going to be all right...?" Lois did not intend to pretend to be totally helpless. Helpless people didn't make good lawyers, and the entire point was to get him to hire her. Despite her attraction to him, and her frustration over the mystery he represented, the main goal had never changed. She waved the question off with a simple gesture. "I'll be fine; I'm just hungry." She paused as though the thought had just occurred to her. "You wouldn't happen to know of a good restaurant in the area, would you? The motel's idea of a continental breakfast is simply pitiful. By the time I got up, all that was left was an overripe banana and a half eaten pop-tart." Clark nodded soberly. He looked sharply at his son for a moment, even though the boy hadn't moved, then said, "Why don't you let me take you to lunch? It's the least I can do for letting you get soaked." Lois ignored the feeling of triumph that stabbed through her and simply nodded. "We may as well get a little use out of my rental car. I've rented it for the next two days. Would you like to drive?" Her head really did hurt, and she wouldn't be in much condition to drive after she took the pills the doctor had prescribed. In that sense, she wasn't lying to him. He was lying to her, though. He was hiding things from her, both about her accident and about himself. As long as she could keep him talking, there was a chance that he might slip up. Furthermore, the longer she talked, the greater her chances were of signing him on. He smiled slowly at her, and Lois knew she had him. Sometimes all it took was a foot in the door; once she managed to get him to actually listen to her, it would all be over. She handed him the keys, and they stepped out into the sun. ******************** The interior of the restaurant was cool and dim, well insulated from the noises of the streets outside. It was a tiny place, filled with the mouth-watering aromas of southern cooking, and as the matronly waitress led them to the back, Lois was impressed. Clark Kent couldn't have chosen a better place. Lois wasn't dressed well enough to go to an expensive restaurant, yet she wasn't in the mood for fa