Getting To Know You
By Nan Smith <hachiban@earthlink.net>
Rated: PG
Submitted: March 2002

Disclaimer:  The familiar characters and settings in this 
story are not mine.  They belong to DC Comics, Warner 
Bros., December 3rd Productions and whomever else can 
legally lay claim to them, nor am I profiting by their use.  
Certain scenes and dialogue from the Lois and Clark episode 
"Top Copy" are included in this story and are hereby 
credited to the writers of the show.  Anything else is 
mine. 

Thanks to those who commented on this story when it was 
being posted on the Message Boards and my special thanks to 
Pam Jernigan, who allowed me to use her idea about Rolf and 
the car.  It definitely added to the story. <g>. 

**********

From the ending of "Mystery":

Clark's head came up suddenly.  "Oh, oh."

Lois quirked an eyebrow at him  "This would be one of those 
times you had to return a video, right?"

"There's a fire at the Metropolitan Building Penthouse.  I 
better go."  He got to his feet.  "I'll be back as soon as 
I can."

"Go," she said.  "I'll be here."

He was gone in a gust of air.  She leaned back in her chair 
to wait, absently contemplating her move, but her thoughts 
were more on her amazing partner.  She'd thought, until the 
events of this weekend, that these sudden departures to 
return a video or library book were his way of avoiding 
personal issues.  The real reason was so different from any 
she had imagined that it was breathtaking.  

Now she knew that, no matter how often he had to run away, 
he would always come back to her as long as she wanted him 
to.  There were still things they had to work out, although 
they had had several long talks over the past three days, 
but she was already sure that she always would want him to 
come back.  She had her doubts about whether she could be 
an equal partner to Superman, but he seemed to think that 
she already was.  Maybe he was right.  Time would tell.

"Hey, Lane!  Where's Kent?  He off returning a library book 
again?"  That was Ralph, on his way toward the elevators.  
He'd remarked on Clark's faulty memory several times in the 
weeks since he'd been hired, but he'd also expressed envy 
at the ability of Lane and Kent to always be in the right 
place at the right time to land the big scoops.  She 
laughed to herself.  

If he only knew.

**********

It was nearly half an hour before Clark returned.  

Lois was glancing at her watch for the third time when she 
heard the door to the stairs open.  One of the wall 
monitors was on, showing the Metropolitan Building 
Penthouse and the firefighters swarming around the towering 
structure.  The flames had been extinguished a good ten 
minutes before, so where was Clark?

As she thought that, the sound of the door opening made her 
raise her head to see him entering the newsroom, absently 
rubbing his neck.  Lois relaxed.  This was a new part to 
their relationship to which she was going to have to adjust 
but at least now, she knew where he was running off to.  It 
had been an almost unreal feeling to watch the scenes on 
the monitor and realize that it had been her quiet, 
unassuming partner who had caught the tiny, plummeting 
figure that had been barely visible on the screen.

"How did it go?" she asked.

"Fine.  Superman saved the day again.  Give me a minute and 
I'll write up the interview for the morning edition."  He 
dropped into his desk chair and an instant later, his 
fingers were flying over the keyboard.

Lois glanced around to be sure that no one on the night 
staff had noticed but, of course, they hadn't.  Ben Jacobs 
was pouring himself a cup of coffee and Harry Williams was 
sitting at his desk, his back to them, absently shooting 
rubber bands at his wastebasket.  Nobody else was even 
visible.  

It only took a few minutes.  He finished and transmitted 
the item to the editor's computer and then shut his own 
machine down.  "Are you ready to go?"

She nodded.  "What happened at the--you know?"

He rubbed his neck again.  "I put out the fire, but it was 
kind of a weird situation."

"Weird?  How?"

He removed her coat from the rack and held it for her.  
"Well..."

She slipped her arms into the garment and reached for her 
crutches, but he had already retrieved them for her.  As 
she positioned them under her arms, he rubbed his neck 
again.  "When I got there, there was a woman falling--I 
guess she'd jumped.  She turned out to be Diana Stride--the 
host of Top Copy."

"You're kidding!"

"Nope.  She and her cameraman--I think his name is Rolf--
were up there when the fire started."

Lois worked her way slowly up the ramp with Clark walking 
beside her.  "What on Earth were *they* doing there?"

"They said they'd gone up to get pictures of the city for a 
piece Top Copy is doing on urban renewal.  I guess they 
could have been.  It just seemed kind of strange."  He 
shrugged.  "Do you still want to head over to my place for 
dinner?  It's only about eight."

"I guess--if it isn't any trouble for you."

Clark rang for the elevator.  "Remember who you're talking 
to, Lois.  I was thinking about getting some Chinese 
takeout.  There's this little place I know in Shanghai that 
has some of the best Chinese food you've ever tasted.  
Literally."

"Literally?"  She frowned slightly, trying to figure that 
one out.  "Wait a minute!  Not the Chinese food you brought 
me, not long after you first came to work at the Planet?"

He nodded, looking innocent.  She laughed suddenly.  "I 
have the feeling I'm going to be finding out about things 
you've done that I didn't know about at the time, for 
months to come."

"Well, it was your idea for me to give you clues and see if 
you can guess which incident I'm talking about.  So far, 
you've been right on the ball."

The elevator doors opened and he held them carefully while 
she maneuvered her way inside.  "I'll be awfully glad when 
Dr. Killian lets me switch to an athletic cast."

"Don't blame you," he said.  He punched the indicator for 
the first floor.  "Don't rush it, though.  You don't want 
to have trouble with that ankle for the rest of your life."

"Yeah."  She glanced at his hands, where the only traces 
left of their ordeal in the mine were the fingernails that 
he had torn during his Herculean efforts to get them out.  
"It's not fair, you know.  You heal in seconds, and it 
takes me weeks.  Which reminds me, how on Earth do you ever 
give yourself a manicure?  Wouldn't a file break if you 
tried to file your nails?"

"Well, maybe not break but I'd wear out the file before it 
made a dent in the nail," he agreed.  "I trim my nails the 
same way I cut my hair and shave--with my heat vision.  As 
soon as they grow out, I'll trim them and they'll be fine." 

"Someday I'd like to watch you cut your hair," she said.  
"It's funny, you know.  I knew Superman was invulnerable, 
but it never occurred to me before to wonder how he 
shaved."

"Well, now you know."  He rubbed his neck again.  "So, will 
Chinese food be okay?"

"Sure--I guess you're not going to phone the order in, 
though."

"No, I think that would be a bit much.  I'll just fly over 
as soon as I get you to my place.  If you'd like to make 
the tea, I should be back by the time it's done."

"That sounds fair," she agreed.  "I guess they know you 
there, huh?"

"Well, they know Clark Kent there.  I found the place 
during the time I was in China, not long after I graduated 
from college.  I've gone there for really good Chinese 
food, ever since."

The elevator came to a stop with a soft sigh of air and 
they exited.  The security guard hurried over to open the 
side door for Lois so she wouldn't have to negotiate the 
revolving doors with her crutches.  She smiled at him.  
"Thanks, Bob."

"You're welcome, Ms. Lane."  The man smiled back and she 
saw him give Clark an envious look, which her partner 
missed.  They went slowly on down the sidewalk to the spot 
where Clark had parked her Cherokee this morning.

"I'll also be glad when I can drive my car again," Lois 
said, continuing the earlier conversation.  "I'm not 
supposed to while I'm still taking Dr. Bryant's 
painkiller."

"Does it still hurt, much?" he asked, helping her into the 
passenger seat.

"Some," she admitted.  "It swells if I can't elevate it, 
and then it starts to hurt.  They said it would get better 
in a few days, though."

"I hope so," Clark said.  "Look, when we get to my place, 
just sit down and put your foot up on the ottoman.  I'll 
start the tea."

"Clark, I think I can manage for a few minutes.  Really, 
I'm not as fragile as you think I am."

Clark didn't look convinced, but he refrained from 
answering as he started the engine and backed out of the 
parking space.  Lois leaned back in the seat, just watching 
him.  

Looking at him with her new knowledge, she could begin to 
understand how he had been able to fool the entire world 
ever since Superman had first made his debut.  It wasn't 
just the glasses or the lack of them, or even the flashy 
costume.  It was his whole attitude.  Clark was relaxed; 
Superman was always stiff and rather formal.  His hairstyle 
was different (what kind of hair gel must he use that could 
stand up to all the things he had to do, she wondered, 
irrelevantly) his posture, his behavior--everything!  And, 
although she occasionally saw one of Clark's mannerisms 
emerge in Superman, even then it seemed different from 
Clark's because of all the other factors.  But, what was 
really amazing were the few times since his confession in 
the mine that they had been alone in one or the other of 
their apartments and he relaxed completely.  That was when 
the real transformation took place and she saw her partner 
as he must be in reality--a blend of his two identities, 
her unassuming, relaxed and sometimes comical partner, 
using his incredible abilities as casually as if it were 
something he did every day--which he probably did, she 
amended.  This was the man as he really was, the man only 
his mother and father, up until now, had seen.  Just the 
thought of getting to know this new Clark Kent sent a small 
stab of excitement through her, the kind she had felt when 
waking up on Christmas morning in the days when her family 
had still been a real family.   

Which brought up another subject.  He'd told her that 
Martha and Jonathan had found him and raised him as their 
own son, but she hadn't heard the whole story, yet.  It was 
one of the many things he'd promised to tell her when they 
had the time.

It was beginning to snow, very lightly--tiny, glittering 
flakes that melted when they hit the windshield.  The 
temperature was probably just about freezing.  Clark 
maneuvered through the fairly heavy evening traffic without 
difficulty, and she gave a small laugh as she thought of 
the fact that Superman had found it necessary to learn to 
drive an ordinary car, and earn himself a driver's license.  

He glanced at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise.  
"What's so funny?"

She giggled again.  "Nothing, really.  It just occurred to 
me that Superman is driving my Jeep.  You don't even need a 
car!"

He smiled.  "No, not now.  But I didn't fly until I was 
eighteen.  Besides, I had to drive Dad's pickup on the 
farm, not to mention the farm machinery.  I wanted to look 
like an ordinary teenager, not a freak; so, I did what 
every other teenager in Smallville did.  I took Driver's 
Training in high school and got my license."

"Clark, you're not a freak!"

His smile had faded.  "I suppose not, but I didn't know 
that, then.  We didn't have any idea where I was from or 
why I was developing all these strange abilities.  I was 
desperate to fit in so I had to hide what I could do."

That was appalling.  This incredible man had felt like 
*that* while he was growing up?  She had always envisioned 
Clark's childhood as the perfect, Norman Rockwell legend: 
loving parents, complete security, nothing like her own 
fractured family.  Jonathan and Martha were everything her 
parents weren't.  Still, she could see how the appearance 
of Clark's strange abilities could have caused them to 
worry and make him long to be like everyone else, but at 
least, his parents had supported him instead of withdrawing 
when the inexplicable things began to happen.  If such a 
thing had happened to her, she wasn't so sure her parents 
would have done the same.  

Her thoughts braked to a stop.  They hadn't *known*? 

"What do you mean, you didn't know where you were from?"

"We didn't," he affirmed.  "Mom and Dad found me in the 
ship but they didn't have a clue where I was from.  They 
thought I was a Russian experiment or something.  None of 
us knew anything until you and I found the Bureau 39 
warehouse and their collection of UFOs.  My ship was there, 
and so was the globe.  You remember the globe that Jack 
stole from my apartment, don't you?"

Numbly, she nodded.

"It was my ship's navigational system.  My real father and 
mother left me a message to tell me where I came from and 
why I was sent to Earth.  That was why I was so desperate 
to get it back.  It gave me the first--and only--
information I've ever had about where I came from and why.  
I'd never heard of Krypton before that, or even my original 
name."

This was astounding, Lois thought.  "What *is* your name?"

He grinned.  "Clark Kent.  But my Kryptonian name was Kal-
El."

"Kal-El."  She regarded him for a long moment.  "I guess 
you could be a Cal, but you look more like a Clark to me.  
Why were you sent to Earth?"

"To save my life.  Krypton blew up.  The globe showed me 
the whole thing.  I even saw the planet explode.  My 
father, Jor-El, and my mother, Lara, built the ship by 
themselves, found Earth and sent me here to where I could 
fit in with the native inhabitants.  I doubt they knew 
about the super powers, though.  At least, they didn't 
mention anything about them in the message."

Lois stared at him, stunned.  She'd come *that* close to 
never knowing Clark and the Earth had come *that* close to 
never having Superman.  Two unknown people on another world 
had been desperate to save their son, and from that had 
come the super hero who had appeared just under two years 
before.  In fact, they had saved Earth, too, because if 
Clark hadn't been here, the Nightfall asteroid would have 
destroyed them all.

"Wow," she said.  This was going to take a while to think 
through.  There was so much that she hadn't known about 
Clark--and Superman--and there was probably much more to 
learn.  

"Yeah," Clark said, seeming to read her thoughts.  "It was 
a lot for me to absorb, too."

He pulled the Jeep to the curb and Lois realized that they 
had arrived at his apartment.  She hadn't even noticed.

"Well," she said, "I'm not happy your home world exploded, 
Clark--don't get me wrong.  But, if it had to happen, I'm 
glad they sent you here--and not just because of Superman."

"I know."  He cut the engine and gave her the key.  "But, 
there's one thing you don't understand yet, Lois.  I may 
have come from another planet, but I don't remember it.  I 
was three months old when Mom and Dad found me.  I was 
raised on Earth, and as far as I'm concerned, Earth is my 
home world." 

**********

Fortunately, getting into Clark's apartment wasn't 
difficult, even for someone on crutches.  Once inside, 
Clark again suggested that she sit down and put her foot up 
while he made the tea, but she pointed out that the faster 
he got to Shanghai, the faster he would be back, and that 
she was starving.  He reluctantly gave in and took off to 
get the food.

In the kitchen, Lois filled the teapot with water and set 
it on to boil.  Clark had a fairly wide selection of tea 
leaves, and after a moment of consideration, she chose the 
oolong tea.  

"Doesn't anyone just drink orange pekoe anymore?" she 
muttered to herself, examining his collection with 
curiosity.  Her partner was an interesting set of 
contradictions, a fact that she hadn't noticed until 
recently.  

In the beginning, she had thought him to be nothing more 
than a country bumpkin, a hick from the sticks with no 
gloss of city sophistication.  She hadn't been interested 
enough to look past the surface, back then.  After they had 
become friends, she had begun to see that under the naive, 
country boy was a man who was intelligent, educated, well-
traveled, and sophisticated in a way that still allowed him 
to somehow keep the values and to a degree, the innocence 
his Kansas upbringing had given him.  It was those values 
and the genuine concern for others that she had so admired 
in Superman, yet deprecated in Clark--yet another example, 
as if she needed it, of the way he had managed to 
distinguish one identity from the other, and convince 
everyone else that they were different people.

The whistle of the teakettle brought her out of her 
abstraction and she dropped in the tea leaves, hoping that 
she'd gotten the strength right.  Clark, of course, 
couldn't possibly use teabags like everyone else, she 
thought, with amusement.

A characteristic whoosh told her that Clark was back.  She 
turned in time to see him emerge from a miniature cyclone, 
dressed in jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt, but without his 
glasses, and stride forward to set a mass of bamboo 
containers on the kitchen table.  She could see the steam 
and smell the heavenly aromas that rose from them, and her 
stomach growled reflexively.

Clark grinned.  "I see you're ready for the food," he 
remarked, rubbing the side of his neck absently.  "How's 
the tea coming?"

"I think it should be ready in a few minutes," she said.  
"That smells wonderful."

"In that case, why don't you sit down on the sofa and put 
your foot up," he said.  "I'll set everything out on the 
coffee table and we can eat in there."

She was ready to go along with the suggestion, this time.  
Her ankle was aching, although she had no intention of 
admitting it to him.  Within seconds, he had spread the 
feast out on the coffee table and was back in the kitchen, 
checking the tea.  "Oolong?" he asked.

"Yeah.  I hope I picked the right tea to go with Chinese 
food," she said.

"It's fine," he said.  "I think it's about ready, too."  He 
appeared in the doorway, teapot and cups in hand.  He set 
them out on the table amid the bamboo containers and pulled 
up an armchair.

"There's enough here to feed a small army," Lois remarked, 
starting to spoon the contents onto her plate.  "Not that 
I'm objecting."

"That means there'll be plenty of leftovers," Clark said.  
"So, do you have any more questions, or do you want to 
think over the last ones for awhile?"

She bit into a pork roll and closed her eyes, chewing.  
"This is fantastic!  Now I know how you're always able to 
find these little family restaurants when no one else can."

He shrugged.  "I told the truth," he said.  "I just didn't 
mention what country the restaurant was in."

"Like those croissants from the 'little French bakery' that 
time?" she asked.

He grinned.  "So, they came from France.  I was checking 
out the handprints on that airliner the clone rescued and 
decided to pick up breakfast."

Lois gave a laugh and began to work her way through the 
sweet and sour pork.  "You're creating a monster, you 
know," she said, in between bites.  

Clark smiled.  "I'm not complaining."  He rubbed his neck 
again.  

Lois swallowed a mouthful of chow mein.  "Is something 
wrong, Clark?"

He looked surprised.  "Wrong?"

"You keep rubbing your neck.  Is it bothering you?"

He opened his mouth and closed it again, frowning.  "I...I 
don't know.  It's kind of tingling a little.  I didn't 
really notice until you mentioned it."

She put down her fork.  "Come over here under the light and 
let me see."

He hesitated, then obeyed, coming to sit on the edge of the 
sofa, next to her.  Lois pulled the T-shirt back from his 
neck.  "Show me where it's tingling."

He ran a finger over the skin.  "Here."

Lois examined the spot in the light of the table lamp.  "I 
don't see anything, but that doesn't mean much.  Have you 
ever felt anything like this before?"

He shook his head.  "No, never."

"And this doesn't worry you?" she demanded.

He shrugged.  "It'll probably go away," he said.  "Nothing 
much can hurt me."

"That's the point!  Nothing *should* be able to hurt you, 
so why is your neck tingling?  You were rubbing your neck 
when you got back from the fire!"  She squinted at the skin 
of his neck again, but it looked the same as it always did.  
Still, something wasn't right.  He was *Superman* for 
heaven's sake!  "Could something have happened there that 
might have caused it to tingle?"

He moved back to his seat, reaching for an egg roll, but 
she could see he was thinking over her question.  "It's 
funny that you should ask that," he said, slowly.  "When I 
caught Diana Stride and carried her back to the roof of the 
penthouse--she kept running her fingers over my neck.  I 
thought she was just--"  He broke off, looking embarrassed.

"What?"

"Well, I'm Superman, and--well--women tend to--you know--
get kind of--well--"

He was actually blushing!  Lois carefully hid the grin that 
tried to make it to the surface.  "Never mind.  I think I 
get it.  Do you think she could have done anything to cause 
this?  Maybe put some kind of chemical on your skin, or 
something?"

"There doesn't seem to be anything there, now," he said, 
doubtfully.

"No, but we don't know that there wasn't something there," 
Lois said.  "I think we should have someone check it out.  
Do you think Professor Hamilton would still be in his lab?"

"He usually is," Clark said.  "I'm not sure we should 
disturb him for a thing like this, though.  We don't really 
know anything."

"Well, I think we should.  I want to know what's the 
matter.  If it isn't anything, then we can relax and forget 
it, but if it *is* something dangerous, we might be able to 
do something about it."  She shoved another pork roll into 
her mouth, for emphasis and chewed vigorously.  "Give me 
the phone.  I'll call him, right now."

**********  

"You say it's tingling, Superman?" Emil Hamilton asked.  He 
prodded the patch of skin that Clark had indicated, peering 
at it through a pair of magnifying glasses that made his 
eyes seem grotesquely huge.

"That's the closest I can come to describing it."  Clark 
resisted the urge to rub the spot again.  "Kind of a funny 
prickly feeling that makes me want to scratch it."

"You mean it's itching," Hamilton said.  He switched on a 
hand light, illuminating the area brightly and examined the 
skin minutely. 

"I guess.  It's not quite that strong, but it isn't 
comfortable."

Hamilton removed the magnifying glasses.  "There's nothing 
I can see, even under magnification, but I'd like to try 
something else, if you don't mind."

"What?" Lois asked.

"With your permission, Superman, I'm going to shine an 
ultraviolet light on it.  Often, foreign substances will 
fluoresce under UV."

"Okay."  Clark glanced at Lois, feeling unaccountably 
nervous.  She gave him a little smile that was somehow 
reassuring.

Professor Hamilton had gone to a cupboard and now returned 
with the ultraviolet light.  After a moment of fumbling to 
plug it in, he flipped the on switch.  A deep, purple light 
bathed Clark's shoulder and the side of his face.

"Hmm..."  The scientist bent closer, examining the spot.  
"There's definitely something here, Superman.  It looks as 
if someone drew on you with finger paint."

He twisted his head, trying unsuccessfully to see.  Lois 
moved closer, attempting to peer past Hamilton's shoulder.  
"What is it?" she asked.

"I can't be sure.  I'd like to try to scrape some of this 
off for analysis."

That was easier said than done, and they ended with Clark 
scraping off the surface cells with his fingernail.  

Hamilton spread the sample carefully on a slide.  "I'll get 
right on it, Superman," he assured Clark.  "As soon as I 
have some answers, I'll call you--if you have a phone?" he 
added as an afterthought.

Lois removed a card from her wallet.  "This is my number at 
the Daily Planet," she said.  "Call me.  My partner knows 
how to get hold of Superman."

"Excellent, excellent."  Hamilton had already turned away 
with the slide held gently between his thumb and 
forefinger, absently tucking the card into the pocket of 
his lab coat with the other hand.  "This should be 
fascinating--"

"We'll let ourselves out," Lois said.  

If the scientist heard her, he gave no indication of it.  
They carefully closed the door after them and Lois glanced 
back at the lab's lighted windows, shaking her head.

"I think I'll give him a call in the morning," she said.  
"He probably won't even remember I gave him my card.  
Scientists!"  She glanced at her watch.  "It's about ten.  
I guess you should take me home."

"Did you have enough to eat?" Clark asked.  "It seems as if 
we haven't had an undisturbed dinner since Friday night."

"Well," Lois said, a little wistfully, "I wouldn't mind a 
little more of that wonderful food."

He smiled.  "I'll tell you what.  Let me drop you off at 
your apartment and then bring the food there so we can 
finish eating.  Then you won't have to go anywhere when 
you're done."

"That sounds like a plan," she agreed.  "Besides, I want to 
hear more about this globe and what it told you."

"Okay."  He lifted her in his arms.  "Although, you know 
most of it, now."

"I still don't know as much about you as I want to," she 
said. 

"Well, you don't have to hear it all at once, you know.  We 
have time."

"Oh, I know.  But I want to know so much!  I keep 
remembering things that make so much more sense, now."  She 
drew in her breath, suddenly.  "No wonder you stood Mayson 
up that weekend that she asked you to go away with her--not 
that I think you'd have gone with her anyway--"

"I was going to tell her no, but Perry interrupted."

"But, you were in *my* apartment all weekend!  No wonder 
you couldn't explain!"

Clark nodded.  "It wasn't fun, but I was glad I was with 
you, Lois."

"You know," she said, "if you'd told me, I could have 
helped you a lot more."

"I know.  I was afraid; that's the only excuse I can give 
you.  But, for what it's worth, I'd already decided that if 
I wasn't able to get my sight back, I was going to tell you 
the truth."

"I guess that's something."  She rested a hand on the side 
of his face.  "You could have trusted me, you know."

"That's the strange thing," he said, slowly.  "I do trust 
you, and I trusted you, then.  It was something else that 
kept me from telling you the truth--I guess, I'd hidden the 
secret for so long that I didn't really consider it.  I 
mean, Superman was blind and helpless--at least, that's how 
I felt.  Dr. Leit already knew--what if someone like Trask 
had discovered it?  At least as Clark, I had some 
camouflage--but you're right, it would have been much 
smarter to tell you.  It's hard to explain why I didn't."

She didn't answer right away, but finally, she nodded.  "I 
think I understand," she said.  "I guess I can forgive you.  
At least you told me when it really mattered.  But, the 
next time you get in trouble, I don't want to find out 
you've hidden anything from me, got it?"

"Got it, ma'am," Clark said.  Lois whacked him with her 
handbag.

**********

Lois was booting up her computer at the Planet, early the 
next morning and had just taken a bite of doughnut, when 
her telephone rang.  She snatched up the receiver, 
swallowed convulsively and said, "Lois Lane."

"Ms. Lane?"  The voice at the other end sounded slightly 
agitated.  "This is Emil Hamilton."

"Oh, Professor Hamilton!  I was going to call you in a few 
minutes."

"I wanted to tell you," the scientist's voice said, "I have 
some preliminary results for you.  The substance on 
Superman's neck was radioactive."

"Radioactive!"

The scientist cleared his throat.  "Yes.  There isn't 
enough of it to be dangerous to ordinary humans, but it's 
bound itself to the outer layer of skin cells to make it 
difficult to remove with just a shower or two.  If I were 
to hazard a guess, I'd say that someone tagged Superman 
with a radioactive marker."

"Tagged him!" Lois said, appalled.  "*Why*?"

"Possibly to track him," Hamilton's voice said.  "I can't 
really think of any other reason."

"Would that be possible?" Lois asked.  A cold chill seemed 
to be crawling across her scalp.

"With the right equipment, certainly."

Lois gulped.  She had to warn Clark.  "Thank you, 
Professor," she managed.  "You've been a lot of help." 

"I hope so.  Goodbye, Ms. Lane."

"Wait!  One last question, Professor."

"Yes?"

"How can he get it off?"

"It should wear off in a day or so," the Professor said.  
"I should think a thorough scrubbing, perhaps with a brush, 
to remove the top layer of skin cells would also take most 
of it off."

"Thanks," Lois said, again.  "I'll let Superman know, right 
away."

"You're welcome, Ms. Lane.  If I can help any further, 
please let me know."  The scientist hung up.

Lois put down the receiver and looked around for Clark.  He 
was across the room at the coffee machine, and she was 
about to hail him when Perry's voice reverberated across 
the newsroom.

"Lois!  Clark!  Jimmy!  Conference room, now!" 

Lois hoisted herself to her feet, reaching for her crutches 
and grimacing in frustration.  They didn't really know 
much, yet--but if Diana Stride had radioactively "tagged" 
Superman, then he needed to know it--and as fast as 
possible.  Maybe she could slip him a note during the 
conference. 

**********  

When they were all inside, Perry closed the conference room 
door and turned the door lock.  Clark pulled out a chair 
for Lois and helped her into it, then sat down beside her.  
Jimmy parked himself across from them and regarded their 
editor with his full attention.  Lois guessed she could 
understand that.  Jimmy might be a copy boy and part time 
photographer, but his goal was to someday become a full-
fledged journalist and to be called into a meeting like 
this with the Planet's editor and star reporting team 
probably impressed him as few things could.

"What's going on, Chief?" Clark asked.

"I just got a call from--well, someone I know at the DA's 
office," Perry began.  "He wanted to let me know what's 
happening.  This could be the story of the century."

Lois and Clark looked at each other for an instant and 
Clark's eyebrows went up.  

"A key member of Intergang's been arrested," Perry 
continued.  "He's made a deal.  He's going to testify."

"Who is it?" Jimmy asked, quickly.

"We don't know," their editor replied.  "The DA's calling 
him Mr. X.  The word is, Intergang's been killing these 
world leaders for decades, making it look like accidents.  
This Mr. X is going to finger their key assassin."  He 
fixed his subordinates with his most intimidating stare.  
"Now, I want the full story on this guy--so by the time he 
takes the stand, the Planet has the headlines--who he is, 
where he comes from, what he's gonna say.  Got it?"

Clark nodded.  "Got it."

"Okay, good.  Go get 'em."  Apparently satisfied that he'd 
impressed the three of them with the importance of the 
assignment, their editor opened the door and exited.

Instantly, the atmosphere in the conference room seemed to 
relax.  Jimmy glanced at Clark with a grin.  "Are those new 
specs, CK?" he asked.

"Yeah," Clark said.

"Can I try 'em on?"  Jimmy reached for the glasses, but 
Clark quickly held up a restraining hand.  

"No!"

Jimmy looked startled.  Lois stepped into the silence.  "He 
wouldn't let me try them either, Jimmy."

"I have a really strong prescription," Clark said, quickly.  
"I wouldn't want to hurt your eyes."

Jimmy shrugged and grinned.  "All right," he said.  "I'll 
see you later."

He exited the room and Lois waited until the door closed.  
"Professor Hamilton called."

Instantly, Clark was alert.  "What did he say?"

Lois quickly recounted the conversation and at the 
conclusion, Clark frowned.  "Diana Stride 'tagged' me," he 
repeated, slowly.  "But, why?"

"Clark, she's an investigative journalist," Lois said.  
"What if she's guessed that Superman could have another 
identity and is trying to find out who he is?  She could be 
planning to expose him on Top Copy!  You should fly back to 
your place and really scrub your neck with a scrub brush.  
Professor Hamilton said that might take it off."

"You're talking about Superman in the third person, again," 
Clark pointed out, mildly.

"So are you," she retorted.  "I'm not kidding, Clark!"

"You're right," he said.  "Look, let's decide what we're 
going to do about Mr. X, then I'll go home for a quick 
shower."

"Well," Lois pointed out, "you're friends with Mayson 
Drake.  You might be able to get her to tell us about him.  
She's an assistant DA.  She's bound to know who he is."

Clark hesitated.  "I really don't like to--"

"Clark, she's got a crush on you.  She's more likely to 
talk to you than anyone else."

"That's exactly why I don't want to take advantage of the 
situation.  Besides, how do you *know* she's got a crush on 
me?"

"Take it from me, Clark, she does.  She's been after you 
since she met you.  Look, it can't hurt to ask her, can 
it?"

He hesitated, and for a moment, Lois experienced a wave of 
sheer jealousy.  Then, she got hold of herself.  She didn't 
have any real reason to be jealous.  Clark had already made 
it clear where his interest lay.  He was simply an 
honorable man who didn't like to take advantage of a friend 
for his own personal gain.  Knowing that Mayson Drake had a 
crush on him, it would certainly go against the grain to 
use that crush to get information from her.  It was one of 
the things that made him the person he was.  She bit her 
lip.  It might be a good idea to cut her partner a little 
slack at this point, even if every reporter's instinct she 
had told her that it was the obvious next step.

"If you really think you shouldn't, I won't push you," she 
said.  "It just seems like the only way we might get a 
lead."

"Yeah."  He looked worried.  "Well--I guess we could ask.  
I just don't want to give her any reason to--well, expect 
anything.  It wouldn't be fair to her."

"All right," she said.  "That's reasonable.  Do you want to 
call her, or should we just go down to City Hall?"

"I guess we should just go..."

They exited the conference room and Lois headed slowly for 
her desk to pick up her bag, silently cussing the 
clumsiness of the crutches.  

Clark's head jerked up and she saw an expression of alarm 
cross his features.  "What's the matter?" she asked.

"Diana Stride.  She and that cameraman of hers are on their 
way up here.  They've got some kind of tracking device--"

"Clark, they're tracing you!" she whispered.  "Do 
something!"

He glanced quickly around and then a gust of air swept the 
room.  Lois brushed the hair from her eyes and looked 
quickly around.  Clark had vanished.

At the same instant, the elevator doors opened and a tall, 
stylish woman, followed by a dark-haired man toting a 
videocamera on his shoulder, exited.  In her hand, the 
woman held something that Lois couldn't see clearly, but 
she carried it before her, obviously concentrating on 
whatever information it was giving her.  She made some 
brief remark to her companion and the two of them hurried 
down the steps to the newsroom floor.

"Is that who I think it is?" Perry's voice murmured in her 
ear.

Lois didn't answer.  Diana Stride and her cameraman headed 
directly across the newsroom toward the door of the 
conference room where she and Clark had just been.

And suddenly, the two intruders came to a halt.  Standing 
in front of them in all his colorful glory, his arms folded 
across his chest, was Superman.

Lois breathed a tiny sigh of relief.  Clark didn't look in 
the least uncomfortable.  In fact, he had a slightly amused 
expression on his face.  There was a murmur of conversation 
between them, and then Diana Stride turned and addressed 
the newsroom.

"Everybody, I'm Diana Stride, and Top Copy is doing a 
tribute to Superman."  She gave her polished, familiar 
smile.  "We know he has a lot of great friends at the 
Planet, and I'd like to interview all of you.  I had hoped 
that it would be a surprise for him but, well, there's no 
keeping secrets from the Man of Steel."  She beckoned to 
him and Clark took a step or two forward, his arms still 
folded and his expression still slightly amused and wary.  
Diana Stride continued, "Well, let's get started.  Who'd 
like to talk about Superman?"

A chorus of voices from the Planet staff answered her.  She 
continued smoothly, "And Superman, I can count on an 
interview from you, soon?"

"Careful," Clark said.  "Whatever that thing is in your 
hand, there--" The item in question sizzled suddenly and a 
cloud of smoke arose from it.  "--It's shorted out."  He 
removed it from her grasp.  "Maybe I'd better take it, 
before you get burned."

Lois had to hide a grin at the expression on the woman's 
face, but underneath the grin was worry.  They now had 
their proof that Diana Stride was the person who had tagged 
Superman.  The problem was, she was unlikely to cease her 
attempts to uncover his identity simply because he was 
aware of her scheme.  The next try would simply be more 
subtle and that was scary.

**********  

Lois fidgeted.  She was already regretting having done it, 
but it was too late to undo.  Mayson Drake had hurried off 
to a meeting, and Lois and Clark were on their way back to 
the Daily Planet.  

The Assistant DA hadn't been able to give them much 
information, so in a moment of weakness, while the woman's 
attention was distracted, Lois had stolen her pager.

Well, it wasn't the end of the world, she told herself.  
This wasn't the first time she'd skirted the law--but now, 
knowing what she knew about Clark, and the fact that he 
wasn't really interested in a closer relationship with 
Mayson Drake, she was experiencing completely unfamiliar 
qualms of conscience.  If she had a real reason to dislike 
the woman, it would be a different matter, but the source 
of her dislike--yes, she conceded very privately, her 
jealousy--was gone.  Mayson Drake disliked and distrusted 
Superman.  Clark was Superman, and as such, could not 
pursue a closer relationship with her, even if he were of 
the mind to do so--which he wasn't.  He had made it quite 
clear that he was in love with Lois, not Mayson, and wanted 
to pursue a relationship only with her.  

But, what would he think of her after this stunt?

She had to admit that the thought bothered her, but she 
told herself that if Clark wanted her, he would have to 
take her as she was.  She couldn't change to suit him and 
to be fair, he hadn't asked her to.  And it wasn't as if 
he'd never done something of the sort, himself.  There were 
the times he'd taken that bottle of Miranda's pheromone-
laced perfume from her boutique and that sample of 
Mentamide 5 from the office of Dr. Carlton, the 
neuropsychologist at the Beckworth School.

Still, he might regard this as a little different.  Mayson 
had a crush on him and he didn't want to take advantage of 
the fact.  On the other hand, he hadn't taken the pager.  
Lois had.

She was aware that she was rationalizing and splitting 
hairs but after all, they were reporters and had a job to 
do.  In any case, before she said anything, she would have 
Jimmy trace the numbers in the little device's memory and 
see if any of them were promising.  If none of them were, 
she didn't have to tell him.  But, if something did turn 
up, she was going to have to.  She couldn't do much 
sneaking around with this thing on her ankle.  

"You're awfully quiet," Clark said, startling her.  "Is 
something wrong?"

For a moment, she was irritated.  Couldn't the man mind his 
own business?  The she caught herself.  Clark wasn't 
prying, at all; it was her own sense of guilt that was the 
problem.  She shook her head.

"I was thinking.  All we know is that the assassin is 
famous.  Maybe we should check out which celebrity was in 
contact with each of the assassinated leaders shortly 
before they died.  We might find a link."

"That's a pretty good idea," he said.  "Jimmy should be 
able to do it without too much trouble."  He pulled the 
Cherokee into the Planet's underground parking lot.  "Wow, 
it's pretty crowded in here, today."

"It's supposed to snow later," Lois said.  "People don't 
want to walk through it when they get off work."

She saw him lower his glasses and turn his head, looking 
around.  Then he turned the Jeep left down the aisle 
farthest from the elevator and a moment later had located a 
parking space at the very end of the row.

"Why do you lower your glasses like that?" she asked, as he 
pulled the Cherokee into the space.

He cut the engine.  "I can use my special vision better 
without the glass in the way," he explained.  "Sorry we're 
so far from the elevator.  This was the last space in the 
lot."

"That's all right."  She reached for the crutches, but he 
had already retrieved them and now walked around to her 
door to assist her to the ground.  She positioned the 
crutches, leaving Clark to lock the Jeep, and started 
toward the elevator.  He joined her almost at once, 
adjusting his steps to accommodate her slow progress on the 
crutches.  Again, she felt a twinge of guilt.  

As they reached the elevator, he raised his head.  "Great."

"What?"

"I'm hearing a bunch of sirens.  I think Superman should 
check it out.  Will you be all right on your own?"

"Clark, I'm fine.  This isn't the first time I've been on 
crutches.  Go on.  Just don't forget to get the story, 
too."

"Okay."  He paused, then leaned forward to give her a light 
kiss on the lips.  "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Bemused, Lois stood still, staring after him for several 
minutes until the chime of the arriving elevator broke her 
out of her trance.  She boarded, still somewhat stunned, 
and punched the indicator for the newsroom floor.  Wow!  
How could such a quick, almost casual gesture have such an 
effect on her?  She'd been kissed by a number of men, some 
of them pretty thoroughly, but none of them could compare 
to that.

She'd been kissed by Clark before and she knew he--well, 
that he knew what he was doing.  There had been the kiss on 
the plane, before Trask threw her out of it, and the one in 
the hotel room--but those had both been deceptions.  Then, 
of course, there had been the goodbye kiss in the Planet, 
when he'd left--at the time Superman had believed he was 
causing the winter heat wave.  That one had been real, but 
it had been for a different purpose.  This one was pure 
affection, and it was--well, wow.  In capital letters.  Her 
heart was still beating a little fast.

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened.  She 
exited slowly and almost absently into the busy swirl of 
the newsroom.

"Lois!  Where's Clark?"  Perry's voice startled her into 
full awareness of the activity around her.

"Uh--he heard a bunch of sirens and went to see if there 
was a story.  He'll be back as soon as he can."

"Oh--okay.  Any progress on that other thing?"

"Maybe, Chief."  She glanced around.  "Jimmy, I need you 
to help me."

Jimmy, crossing the room with a stack of folders, nodded 
distractedly.  "Be right there." 

She worked her way down the steps.  The ramp was a little 
much, considering her crutches.  At her desk, she sank into 
her chair and opened her purse.  Mayson's pager lay on top 
of the other contents, and she bit her lip.  Should she use 
it?  The temptation was strong, but--

She closed the purse.  Maybe she wouldn't need to.  Maybe 
they could go at this another way.

"Yeah, Lois?"  Jimmy had arrived at her desk.

"Oh--uh, yeah.  Jimmy, I need you to do some research for 
me.  You know that list of political leaders you put 
together--the ones we think Intergang assassinated?  I want 
you to get a list of the people who contacted them in the 
last day or so before they were killed.  Anyone famous--not 
their wife or valet or anything.    See if the same person 
shows up more than a few times.  Got it?"

"Sure."  Jimmy paused, looking more closely at her.  "Are 
you okay, Lois?"

"Huh?  Oh, sure.  Clark and I were discussing this on the 
way back.  Try to hurry, would you?  If we're right, this 
may tell us who the assassin is."

**********

Half an hour later, Clark stepped out of the elevator to 
find Lois and Jimmy both peering at her computer screen 
with an air of suppressed excitement.  He hurried down into 
the Pit and across to Lois's desk.

"Hi, what's up?"

They glanced around at him, and Lois waved at her screen.  
"Jimmy came up with the answer, Clark.  Take a look."

He leaned over the back of her chair.  "What's this?"

"The list of the leaders probably assassinated by 
Intergang's top assassin," Jimmy said.  "Look who 
interviewed each one of them within a day of their deaths.  
I can't believe it, but it does make sense--at least I 
guess it does.  It's just hard to believe *she* would be 
involved with Intergang."

Clark read the list and felt his eyebrows climbing toward 
his hairline.  "Diana Stride?"

"Yeah," Lois said.  "I might not believe it, if that other-
-thing hadn't happened."

"What other thing?" Jimmy asked.

"Last night Diana Stride apparently tagged Superman with a 
radioactive marker," Clark said, absently. 

"How do you know?" Jimmy asked.

"Professor Hamilton identified it," Lois said.  "Then, she 
showed up this morning with that tracking device, looking 
for him."

"Why would she do a thing like that?" Jimmy asked, clearly 
puzzled.

"We don't know for certain," Lois said.  "Evidently, she 
wants to be able to track him down, for some reason.  
Superman's worried, and so are we.  If she's Intergang's 
assassin, it would make sense.  They've made no secret that 
they'd like to get rid of him."

"That's for sure," Jimmy said.  "If Mr. X can identify her, 
she's going to try to kill him."

"I'd say that's a given," Lois said.

"Do you think we should notify the police?" Jimmy asked.

Clark shook his head.  "We don't have any proof, really; 
just a working theory.  They're not likely to believe us.  
Besides, they already know Intergang's going to be after 
him--we wouldn't be telling them anything they don't know."

"Yeah," Jimmy agreed.  "So, now what?"

"That's what we're going to decide," Lois said.  "I wonder 
if we could get Superman to help.  Protecting a witness 
ought to be right up his alley."

"Hey, that's an idea!" Jimmy said.  He glanced at the 
clock.  "Oops, gotta go, guys.  I'm supposed to pick up the 
Chief's lunch at the deli in a few minutes."

"I don't think Mayson would go for that," Clark said after 
Jimmy had gone.  "She doesn't trust Superman."

"I know.  I can't figure out what her problem is," Lois 
said, irritably.  "Superman's the biggest asset that law 
enforcement has ever had and she doesn't trust him.  He's 
never hurt anyone, never interfered with the police; he's 
done nothing but good--"

"Lois, I think it's more basic than that," Clark said, very 
quietly.  "Superman isn't human; he's an alien.  He's 
powerful and she can't control him if he decides he doesn't 
want to be controlled.  I think that underneath, she's 
afraid of him."

"Then, she's a bigot," Lois said, flatly.  "*And* a fool."

"Lois--"

"I'm sorry, Clark; I know she's your friend but I call them 
as I see them.  She's letting her professional objectivity 
be influenced by her emotions.  She's as biased as any 
racist on the planet."

"Not exactly.  She isn't a racist--she just doesn't trust 
Superman."

"Then, she's a speciesist and that's just as bad!  Superman 
is a good, trustworthy man, human or not.  If she can't see 
that--"

Lois was genuinely angry, Clark thought, although he 
shouldn't have been surprised.  He saw Ralph give them an 
odd look, and decided it might be a good idea to change the 
subject.  He reached out and covered her hand with his.  
"It doesn't matter what Mayson thinks of Superman, Lois," 
he said, so softly that  only she could hear him.  "The 
only thing that matters to him is what *you* think of him."  
He removed his hand and raised his voice to a normal level.  
"Anyway, regardless of that, we better decide what to do 
about Diana Stride."

"Kent!"  Perry's voice rose over the ever-present noise in 
the busy room.  "Did you get that story you were after?"

He sighed.  "Yeah, Chief.  I'll write it up and have it to 
you in a few minutes."

Lois gave a soft laugh.  "Go write," she said.  "We'll 
figure it out later."

**********

 Lois watched her partner head for his desk and begin to 
type.  Her head was still reeling from the way his quiet 
statement had brought her up short and stopped her anger in 
its tracks.  He'd said it in so many words; it was her 
opinion that mattered to him, not Mayson's.  He, Clark 
Kent, aka Superman, was in love with her, Lois Lane.  Out 
of the corner of her eye, she glanced at her bag where it 
lay on the floor under her desk.  How could she possibly 
admit that she'd taken the pager, now?  She couldn't.  He'd 
certainly be disappointed in her.  She'd just mail it back 
to Mayson Drake, anonymously and if the woman asked her 
about it, she would simply deny all knowledge of it.  That 
would be the end of the matter.   

Clark was leaning forward, reading what he had written.  
She saw him make a correction and got to her feet to stroll 
over to his desk.  He glanced up at her as she leaned over 
his shoulder.

"What do you think of it?"

"Not bad.  Good quote from Superman."

"I thought so."  He LANned it to Perry and swiveled his 
chair around.  "Maybe we should adjourn to the conference--
"  He broke off.  "Oh, no."

"Another emergency?"

"Pileup on the parkway.  It's sleeting out there, and--"

"Say no more.  Go."

**********

When Clark returned, there was no sign of Lois in the 
newsroom.  He listened with his super-hearing, but her 
heartbeat wasn't anywhere in the building.  On the off 
chance that she could have left him a note, he checked his 
desk but there was, of course, nothing.  It wasn't really a 
surprise.  

The fact that she had a cast on one ankle made it unlikely 
she'd be trying to follow Diana Stride, but on the other 
hand, this was Lois Lane.  He wouldn't put anything past 
his partner when she was on the trail of a hot story--
especially now, when she had the added incentive of trying 
to protect him from a possible Intergang assassin.  He 
glanced around.  "Hey, Eduardo!  Have you seen Lois?"

The man frowned.  "I think she left about two hours ago, 
Clark.  She took Olsen with her.  Didn't say where she was 
going, though."

Clark glanced at his watch.  It was past six.  Where were 
they?

For an instant, he considered calling her and asking where 
she was but rejected the impulse at once.  Not only could 
it interrupt her at a possibly hazardous time, but the last 
thing Lois needed was for him to start smothering her with 
protectiveness.  He knew very well that one of the most 
important things in her life was her independence.  He had 
to remind himself, fairly frequently, that he shouldn't try 
to make decisions for her.  The habit was a difficult one 
to resist, though.  As Superman, he had to constantly make 
choices like that for other people--choices like who lived 
and who died.  He hated such decisions, but there were the 
inevitable times when he had to employ them.  He couldn't 
be everywhere or do everything.  Sometimes there were no 
good choices, but they still had to be made.  It was times 
like that when he would replay in his head the thing that 
Lois had told him, not long after he became Superman:  
"What he can't do...it doesn't matter.  It's the idea of 
Superman.  Someone to believe in.  Someone to build a few 
hopes around.  Whatever he *can* do: it's enough."  

Maybe it was, but making such decisions wasn't fun.  He 
didn't need to extend the necessity to his personal life--
especially with the woman he loved and wanted to marry.  
There were plenty of times when he thought she was making 
the wrong choice but in his more rational moments, he was 
well aware that if he tried to make those choices for her, 
he would be making a potentially fatal error in regards to 
their relationship.  It was when danger threatened her that 
the impulse was incredibly hard to withstand.  So far, he'd 
managed to resist it.

Well, what should he do?  Reluctantly, he recognized that, 
short of calling her on her cellular phone, the only things 
he could do was to wait, or possibly go looking for her.  
She could hardly complain that he was being overprotective 
if he did that.  

At that instant, his super-hearing clicked in with a 
vengeance and he lifted his head abruptly at the heavy 
echoes of an explosion that reverberated in his ears, 
followed almost instantly by a shout of warning from a very 
familiar voice.  Ignoring Eduardo's surprised look, he 
turned on his heel and made a beeline for the stairs.  He 
didn't hear Perry's voice calling his name from the door of 
his office, or even Ralph's quip to the sports editor about 
Kent having forgotten to return another library book.  As 
he darted through the door, he heard a sound from the same 
area as the explosion that raised the hair on the back of 
his neck: four shots from a silenced handgun.  The door 
hadn't even completely closed when a sonic boom shook the 
air above the Daily Planet.  Superman had had a sudden 
harrowing premonition.  If Lois wasn't in the middle of 
trouble, he was the Easter Bunny.

**********

Driving the Cherokee with a cast on her foot was harder 
than she'd thought.  Lois maneuvered slowly down the 
narrow, dirt road that Jimmy had indicated Diana Stride had 
taken, working to be certain she didn't put too much 
pressure on the accelerator with the clumsy thing.  Roaring 
her motor wasn't a good idea at the moment.  Diana Stride 
would be certain to notice.  Of course, driving with only 
her parking lights on was a bit dangerous, but it was worth 
the risk if the woman led her to Mr. X's safe house.

Where was Jimmy?  He'd followed Diana Stride from her 
penthouse, some forty-five minutes ago, to this God-
forsaken place in the country.  The kid must be practically 
riding in her back pocket.  She hoped he was careful.  If 
they were right about Diana Stride, then the woman was a 
killer.  If she thought Jimmy had any idea about what she 
was up to, she'd dispose of him without compunction.

If she had been thinking, she'd have left a note for Clark.  
Having Superman for backup would have been reassuring, but 
he'd been very much occupied trying to clear up that mess 
on the parkway.  He was probably still busy and this 
wouldn't wait.  

Back at the Planet, she had discussed the problem with 
Jimmy, since Perry had included him in the investigation 
because of his computer skills.  It had actually been 
Jimmy's idea that he should stake out the woman's Ferrari, 
and follow her on his motorcycle if she went anywhere.  
He'd promised to phone Lois at once, if Diana Stride looked 
like she was going somewhere important.  Lois had been 
doubtful, but she'd gone along with it.  After all, they 
had to find their proof, somehow.  She'd taken the time to 
drop by the post office and mail the pager back to Mayson 
Drake, glad to have the temptation out of her hands.  Now, 
however, she was wishing for that super backup that her 
partner could have provided.

This was silly!  She had been an investigative reporter for 
several years before she met Clark and had managed to deal 
with dangerous situations before.  Having Superman to pull 
her out of them if they went wrong was convenient but not 
really necessary. 

Except, that small and highly irritating voice in the back 
of her mind pointed out, that since the advent of Superman 
and the acquisition of a partner, she sometimes wasn't as 
careful to plan ahead as she used to be.  That was 
something she needed to work on.  She couldn't always count 
on Superman being available to bail her out if the need 
arose.  What if he was in Lower Mongolia, dealing with an 
earthquake or something, when she needed help?

The precipitation had slowed to a light mist, accompanied 
by the occasional snowflake, thank goodness, she observed 
as the Cherokee crept along the narrow road.  The sun had 
almost set and here, driving between the trees, it was 
getting pretty dark.  Overhead, no stars were visible, 
however, because of the thick cloud cover.  Parking lights 
really weren't adequate to handle it, and anyway, she 
needed to turn them off.  Up ahead, there was a hint of 
light between the trees--a house, she thought, with a 
thrill of combined excitement and apprehension.

At the thought, there was the faint glint of her parking 
lights reflecting off wet metal just ahead and to the right 
of her, and she braked to a stop, at the same instant 
dousing her lights.  

She sat still for a long moment, letting her eyes adjust to 
the lower level of illumination.  The object ahead was a 
car, she realized, a low-slung sports model that had been 
parked far off the road.  With care, Lois put her vehicle 
in reverse and backed up a good twenty feet.  Then, with 
equal caution, she pulled far onto the other side of the 
road, wincing as she heard the scrape of wet branches 
against the sides of her beloved Jeep.  Still, she didn't 
want anyone returning to the other car to notice her.  
Fortunately, the underbrush here was fairly thick, and she 
maneuvered the Cherokee tightly in behind a mass of thorny 
bushes before cutting the engine.

Slowly, leaving her bag behind, she opened the passenger 
door and slid out, pulling the crutches with her.  Trying 
to walk on crutches in this stuff was asking for trouble, 
but she wanted a look at the other car.  Moving with great 
caution, she worked her way out from behind the brush, 
stopping several times to disentangle hair and clothing 
from the grasping thorns, and made her way across the 
rutted, dirt road to the sports car.

It was a Ferrari, she saw.  The license plate had been 
obscured with smears of mud, but Lois was ready for that.  
The lace handkerchief her mother had sent her from Paris 
last year as a so-called birthday present (even though it 
had arrived four months late) made a convenient rag to wipe 
away the soil so she could see the number.  The faint glow 
of the moon behind the blanket of cloud cover, gave her 
enough light to copy it down on the back of an envelope 
that she'd tucked in her jacket pocket, intending to mail.  
It was a New Troy plate, she noted, without surprise, and 
shoved the envelope back into the pocket.  She could have 
Jimmy check the number later, but she was willing to bet 
that this was Diana Stride's car.

Slowly, she turned back toward the Jeep.  It went against 
the grain not to be exploring ahead, trying to see what she 
could see, but on crutches she would be slow and clumsy, 
unable to run if she was discovered.  This one time, she 
was going to have to rely on Jimmy.

Glancing over her shoulder at the lights of the house, she 
hesitated.  Would it hurt just to go openly down the road 
toward the place?  If she seemed to be an innocent 
passerby, perhaps with engine trouble, shouldn't that be 
all right?

Slowly, but far less reluctantly, she turned and started 
down the road toward the glow of light.  

The road was only dimly visible and she didn't dare take 
out her penlight, even if both her hands hadn't been 
occupied.  The chilly mist drifted down, and she soon 
discovered that trying to maneuver with a pair of crutches 
on the rutted surface was harder than it had at first 
seemed--especially considering that it had been sleeting a 
short time before and the ground was semi-liquid in spots.  
The crutches had a tendency to slide, and more than once 
she put down her good foot, only to discover that the 
surface squished or splashed beneath it.  In no time at 
all, her leg was coated in icy mud halfway to the knee, her 
shoe was thick with the stuff, and she was seriously re-
evaluating the wisdom of this particular move.

Darn it!  Why couldn't the weather cooperate, just once, 
she grumbled to herself as she slipped and slid her awkward 
way down the muddy road.  It was supposed to be early 
spring, for heaven's sake!  Last weekend had been bright 
and sunny, and the trees had been putting out new leaves 
for weeks, but the latest cold snap had brought snow and 
sleet with it, which was naturally keeping Superman busy, 
and she could sure use him right now.  Her foot came down 
in another puddle, and she gasped as the icy mud made its 
way over the top of her shoe--again--and oozed down inside.  
She was probably going to have to throw the pair away after 
this, she reflected, grimly, but if she got the story on 
Mr. X, it would be worth it.

She rounded a turn in the road, and before her was an open 
space.  To her right, a swampy body of water filled what 
would otherwise have been the front yard of a modest house.  
A curtained window glowed with muted lighting, and she 
could see the dim form of a man in camouflage gear as he 
crossed in front of it, walking a slow path around the 
perimeter of the building.  She paused in the shadow of the 
shrubbery to catch her breath and make up her mind what to 
do next.  Tendrils of mist curled in the air, cold and 
clammy on her skin.  

From the branches of the tree above her, there was the 
sudden fluttering of wings, and water showered onto her 
head.  Caught off guard, she gasped and flinched away from 
the small torrent of icy liquid, lost her balance and 
pitched sideways into the wet, thorny growth that edged the 
road.  At the same instant, from somewhere ahead and to her 
left, there were the muted sounds of a short, violent 
scuffle.

She struggled and tore her way free of the thorns, unsure 
of what she had just heard.  One of her crutches lay in the 
muddy road; the other had disappeared in the darkness.  On 
hands and knees in the mud, she distinctly heard the clink 
of metal, a faint, high squeal and an odd popping noise.  
Then, she ducked involuntarily at the burst of sound and 
the flash of light that crossed the space directly ahead of 
her.  The front window exploded in flames.

Breathless and paralyzed, she saw the front door of the 
house fly open and three men rush out.  From somewhere she 
heard a voice--Jimmy's, she realized belatedly--yelling a 
warning.  For an instant, she saw him, thirty feet ahead, a 
black silhouette against the pale lighting.  Then there was 
the sound of four shots from a silenced handgun.  Jimmy 
went down, and she saw the men by the house crouched on the 
ground.  Then, there was a characteristic whoosh that 
marked the arrival of Superman.

Somewhere, she heard the sound of someone retreating 
through the shrubbery.  Superman took off again, carrying 
the form of one of the men, and she crawled forward to the 
spot where Jimmy lay on the ground.

He wasn't moving, she saw, and for a terrible moment, she 
thought he was dead.  Then she realized he was breathing.  

"Jimmy?" she whispered.  

He didn't answer.  Desperate, she dragged the penlight from 
her jacket pocket and flashed it over him.  

He was bleeding, she saw, and a patch of blood was soaking 
the back of his jacket.  "Jimmy?"  Lois pushed herself to a 
sitting position and shouted at the top of her voice.  
"Help!  Somebody help!"

**********

"How is he?"

Lois looked up as Perry White entered the waiting room.  
Clark put a hand on hers and squeezed it lightly.  "He's in 
surgery, Chief.  The doctors say he's got a fighting 
chance."

Perry dropped onto the sofa next to Lois, not even blinking 
at her muddy clothes.  "What happened?  You said on the 
phone that he was trailing Diana Stride?"

Lois nodded.  "We both were.  I was following behind him in 
the Cherokee.  We were at the government safe house and saw 
the attempt to kill the government witness.  I guess he 
tried to warn the police."

"Lois, that was a hell of a crazy risk!" Perry exploded.  
"You both could have been killed!"

"I know."  Lois clenched her hands in her lap, fighting 
back tears.  "I didn't know he was going to do that.  I 
told him when we started not to take any chances."

She saw Perry and Clark exchange a glance, but neither 
commented.  Her boss cleared his throat.  "Tell me what 
happened."

Slowly, her voice almost a monotone, she recounted the 
events of the past couple of hours.  When she had finished, 
her boss cleared his throat, again.  "So, you're sure it 
was Diana Stride?"

"I'm sure, Chief.  I didn't see her, but she's the one 
Jimmy was trailing."

"So, Jimmy could identify her."

"Well--yes.  Probably."  She saw Perry and Clark exchange 
another glance.  "What?"

"The government witness is in a coma," Clark said.  
"There's a bullet lodged next to his heart, and the doctors 
can't operate until he stabilizes.  He won't be able to 
testify for weeks--but Jimmy might be able to, if he 
survives."

"In other words, he can identify the assassin," Lois 
whispered.

"Exactly."  Mayson Drake's voice spoke from the doorway.  
The assistant DA crossed the room and took a seat across 
from the three journalists.  "I want to know how you found 
my witness."

Normally, Lois would have bristled, but after the events of 
the evening, she was in no mood to fight.  "We had reasons 
to be suspicious of Diana Stride," she said.  "Jimmy 
discovered that every head of state who was assassinated 
had been interviewed by her within 24 hours of his death.  
We staked out her car and Jimmy followed her on his 
motorcycle."

"How did you get there?" Mayson asked, glancing at the cast 
on Lois's ankle.

"He let me know where he was going by cell phone," Lois 
said.  "I followed his directions.  Here."  She pulled the 
now-muddy envelope from her pocket.  "I copied this license 
number from a car that was parked on the road that led to 
the house.  Odds are, it's hers."

Mayson took the envelope.  "I'll have it checked," she 
said.  "You never actually saw Diana Stride, though."

"No," Lois said.  "Only Jimmy saw her.  At least, I think 
he did."

"That makes him a witness," Perry said.  "If he can 
identify the shooter--"

The woman nodded curtly.  "I'm putting him under guard, 
along with Mr. X."

"You think he's in danger?" Lois asked.

Mayson didn't smile.  "What do you think, Lois?  Of course 
he is."  She added, "If it hadn't been for his warning, we 
might have lost our government witness.  You can bet 
Intergang knows who he is by now.  And you, too." 

Lois shrugged, irritably.  "I didn't see anything the 
others didn't see," she said, "and I've told you everything 
I know.  I'm no danger to them."

"Maybe not."  Mayson spread the envelope out and began to 
copy the scribbled number.  "They may not be so sure of 
that, however.  Here."  She handed Lois the crumpled and 
dirty envelope.  "You'll want your electric bill back."  
She glanced at Clark.  "Where were you in all this?"

"I was covering the chain-reaction accident on the 
parkway."

Mayson got to her feet, saying something under her breath 
about at least one of them having some sense.  "I'll talk 
to you tomorrow.  I assume you'll be staying here until 
Olsen is out of surgery?"

Clark nodded.  "Of course."

"Then, I'd better warn you about the reporters.  They've 
somehow gotten word of what happened.  There's a mob of 
them outside waiting for you.  Superman already spoke to 
them, but they're still hanging around."

"Don't worry about that," Perry said, a glint of anger in 
his eyes.  "I'll handle them."

Mayson nodded, then seemed to think of something.  "By the 
way, when we spoke earlier today, did either of you happen 
to see my pager?"

"No," Clark said.

Lois simply shook her head, biting her lip.  "Did the 
doctors say anything to you about Jimmy?" she asked.

"Not much."  Mayson was watching her closely.  "They think 
he'll make it.  I certainly hope he does, for more than one 
reason."  She glanced at Clark.  "In the meantime, I'm 
asking you both as a personal favor to me to stay away from 
Diana Stride.  If she *is* the one we're after, I don't 
want her to possibly be tipped off in any way.  Is that 
clear?"

"Yes," Clark said.

"Good."  Mayson turned and walked briskly away.  

**********

It was past two when Clark took Lois home.

Jimmy was out of surgery, and the doctors had assured his 
three waiting friends that he was out of danger, more or 
less awake and resting as comfortably as possible.  Perry 
had been allowed a visit that lasted for all of thirty 
seconds, just to reassure them all, and to let a very 
drowsy Jimmy know that his friends were rooting for him, 
and then the staff had shooed him out.

By the time they left the waiting room, there were only 
five or six reporters left in the hall outside and Perry's 
annoyed bark made them instinctively back off.  Even the 
guy from the National Whisper seemed to be unwilling to 
approach the Planet's editor-in-chief.  

"Nice work, Chief," Clark observed as they exited from the 
lobby, walking slowly to accommodate Lois's crutches.  She 
glanced back over her shoulder to assure herself that they 
weren't being followed.  They weren't.

Perry smiled, grimly.  "Comes from practice."  He looked 
Lois over with concern.  "Are you all right, honey?"

"Sure, Perry."  It had been an exhausting evening and Lois 
could barely keep her eyes open, but she wasn't going to 
admit that.  "I'm just glad Jimmy's going to make it."

"Yeah."  Perry glanced around the hospital's parking lot.  
"Where's your Jeep?"

"Still out on the dirt road, I guess, along with Jimmy's 
motorcycle.  Superman flew both of us here."

"Superman said he took it to your place when he went back 
for your crutches, Lois," Clark interjected.  "I think he 
got Jimmy's motorcycle, too."

"That was considerate of him," Perry said.  "In that case, 
let me give you both a ride home.  There's a blanket in the 
back to cover the seat with, if you want.  Most of the 
mud's probably dried by now, anyway."

"Oh, Chief, I don't want to mess up your car..."

"If I was worried about my car, I wouldn't offer you the 
ride."  He led the way across the lot.  "Come on, honey.  
Where are you going to get a taxi at this hour?"

Lois was too tired to argue.  Perry unlocked the latch on 
the passenger side and started to open the door.  Clark 
caught his hand.

"Let me check something, sir."

Perry frowned, but stepped back.  Clark went around to open 
the hood of the car and lean over the engine.  An instant 
later he straightened up.  "Chief, you better call the 
cops.  There's something in here that looks like a bomb."

"*What*?"  Their boss sounded more outraged than afraid, 
but he didn't argue.  A short time later, the Metropolis 
bomb squad was swarming around the editor's car.  The man 
in charge, a Captain Weems, stood back while his experts 
disarmed and removed the device.  Lois fanned at the smoke 
from his cigar, but didn't complain.  

"Yep, it's a bomb, all right," the man said clinically, 
knocking ashes onto the pavement.  "Looks like a pretty 
standard car bomb.  You done something to tick off anyone, 
recently, Mr. White?"

"I'm a newspaper editor," Perry said.  "What do you think?"

"Huh.  Well, I'd say somebody doesn't like you, much."  The 
man turned to give directions to a young woman who stood 
nearby with a briefcase in her hands.  She nodded and went 
over to join the crowd of men around the hood of the car.  
He turned back to the trio of reporters.  "Jackie's going 
to dust for prints.  Chances are, whoever he was, he didn't 
leave any, but you never know.  We'll be done in about 
fifteen minutes and you can have your car."    

It was closer to twenty minutes later that the bomb squad 
departed and the three of them were able to get into the 
car.  Clark spread the blanket over the passenger seat, 
helped Lois into it and climbed into the back.  Perry 
hesitated a moment, then started the engine.  It came to 
life with a purr, and he let out his breath.  "Looks like 
there aren't any more surprises," he commented, starting to 
back out of the parking space.  "Thanks for bein' on your 
toes, Clark."

"No problem," Clark said.  "I thought it would be a good 
idea to check, just in case.  Intergang might have figured 
Lois would hitch a ride home with you."

"Yeah."  Perry concentrated on getting them out of the lot.  
"Lois, I want you to be careful.  If Clark's right, they've 
decided they can do without you.  Maybe you should come 
stay in my guest room tonight."

Clark spoke up.  "Why don't you just drop us at my place, 
Chief?  She can stay there, until we're sure it's safe."

Lois started to protest, but Clark added, quickly, "It's up 
to you, of course, Lois, but I'd feel better if you weren't 
at your apartment tonight.  You never know what they'll 
try."  

She hesitated.

"You stayed there when Kyle Griffin was after you," Clark 
pointed out, "and this is more of a threat than he was."

"I guess."  She yawned widely, covering it with the back of 
her hand.  "You're right, Clark."

"Good," Perry said.  "Better check your place, too," 
Clark."

"I will," Clark assured him.  "It looks to me like 
Intergang is pretty worried."

"Or their assassin is," Perry said.  "If it *is* Diana 
Stride, there's no telling what she'll do next."

**********

When Perry pulled up in front of Clark's apartment, he 
turned to Lois and paused.  "I thought she'd gotten awfully 
quiet," he observed.  Clark chuckled softly.  He'd been 
aware for the past fifteen minutes that his partner was 
sound asleep.

"Think I ought to wake her up or just carry her?" he 
whispered.

Perry grinned.  "Your call."  The grin faded.  "I'm glad 
she's staying with you tonight, Clark, but you watch 
yourself, too.  If they're after her, you could wind up in 
the crossfire."

"Don't worry, Chief.  I can take care of myself--and her," 
Clark assured him.  "You just be careful getting home--
although you're probably a lot safer without Mad Dog Lane 
in your car."

Perry stifled a laugh.  "You're probably right.  You two 
take the morning off tomorrow.  It's been a busy night.  
I'm going to give the hospital a call in the morning to see 
how Jimmy's doing."

"They may not tell you anything if Mayson puts him under 
guard," Clark pointed out.  "Lois and I will probably drop 
over there tomorrow morning before we come in to work."

"Okay.  Be careful, though.  Until Intergang is sure Lois 
doesn't know anything, she's going to be a target."

"I know.  Trust me, Chief."

"I do," Perry said.  "And I don't say that about many 
people.  'Night, Clark."

**********

It was the indirect glow of sunlight coming through the 
window that woke Lois.  She turned over and buried her face 
in the pillow.  The alarm hadn't gone off, yet, so that 
meant she could go back to sleep for a few minutes before 
she had to get up.

She had almost drifted off to sleep again, when her sense 
of smell picked up the scent of freshly brewed coffee and 
frying bacon.  She opened her eyes.

She was in Clark's bedroom, in his bed.  After a moment of 
shock, she took in the fact that the other side of the bed 
hadn't had an occupant.  Pushing back the covers, she 
discovered that she was wearing oversized sweats, and 
further investigation revealed that her underclothes were 
firmly in place.  She blushed at the thought of Clark 
having put her into her night clothing, but he would hardly 
have wanted her to sleep in his bed with that much mud 
caked onto her other things.

Come to think of it, where were they?--not that she wanted 
to wear them. 

She sat up, yawning and looking around.  Her clothes of 
yesterday were nowhere to be seen, but one of her other 
outfits was lying neatly on a chair.  Clark must have 
raided her apartment, she thought, and giggled to herself 
at the thought.  If she knew her partner, rummaging in her 
lingerie drawer had probably caused him acute 
embarrassment.

But, no.  A paper bag, stapled shut, sat innocuously on the 
floor beside the chair, and the printing on the bag 
identified it as having come from Teresa's Clothing 
Emporium in Smallville.  Emporium?  Smallville didn't have 
anything large enough to be called an emporium, if she 
recalled correctly.  Still, Clark almost certainly had 
asked his mother to purchase the more intimate items of 
ladies' apparel for him.  Which raised another matter.  
What on Earth must Martha have thought?

Deciding to table the subject before it became a full 
fledged mental babble, she slid her feet over the edge of 
the bed, noting as she did so that her cast had been 
cleaned, and so had the crutches that leaned against the 
wall next to the bed.  Clark was nothing if not thorough, 
she reflected, reaching for them.

There was a soft knock on the partition that divided the 
bedroom from the living space.  Clark's voice said, "Lois?  
Are you decent?"

"More or less."  She glanced around as Clark appeared, a 
cup of coffee in his hand.

"How did you sleep?" he asked.

"Not bad," she said.  "What happened to my clothes?"

"They're in Smallville," he said.  "Mom promised to take 
care of them for you."

"Clark, you didn't!  What will your Mom think?"

"I explained it to her over the phone," he said.  "I 
dropped them off this morning when I picked up the--um--
things she bought for you."

"This morning?  What time is it?"

"A few minutes to twelve."  He nodded at the small clock on 
the nightstand.  "Perry told me to let you sleep in."  He 
added, "In case you're worried, I put the sweats on you 
before I pulled off the muddy things.  I--"

Naturally, she thought, although that must have taken some 
gymnastics on his part.  She chuckled.  "Boy scout.  You've 
seen me in a bikini at the company picnic."

"Well, yeah, but it's not the same."  He was definitely 
blushing.  "Anyway, I brought you coffee, and breakfast 
will be ready when you are."

"Okay--wait a minute!  How did you know my size?"

This time, he raised an eyebrow.  "I'm pretty good at 
guessing--and as you pointed out, I *was* at the company 
picnic."

"Oh.  I didn't think you noticed."

He set the coffee cup down on the little table.  "I always 
noticed you, Lois--from the day we met.  I couldn't help 
it.  Remember when you told me not to fall for you?"

"Yes."

"You were too late.  As a matter of fact, you would have 
been too late about two seconds after you barged in on my 
interview.  It was right then that I knew I had to stay in 
Metropolis."

"Oh."  There wasn't much she could say to that.

He started for the living room.  "There's a toothbrush in 
the bag, too.  And a hairbrush and comb, and so forth.  
Take your time."   

**********

Getting clean took more time than she anticipated.  Clark 
didn't have a tub, but he'd put a large, plastic bag on the 
towel rack, along with a roll of adhesive tape, which 
allowed her to cover the cast long enough to take a thorough 
shower and wash her hair.  When she finally emerged into 
the kitchen, clean and dressed, she saw that Clark had been 
as good as his word.  A hot breakfast awaited her on the 
table and Clark was pouring her a second cup of coffee as 
she made her appearance.  He looked up with a smile.  
"Nonfat creamer and Sweet n' Lo, just like at the office.  
Right?"

She nodded and slipped into the chair he held for her.  He 
must have kept track of her with his super-hearing, she 
thought, to have such superb timing.  There were definitely 
advantages to having Superman for a partner.

He set a bowl of chopped fruit on the table, and a plate of 
already buttered toast.  "Would you like anything else?" he 
inquired.

"No, this is fine."  As a matter of fact, it was about 
twice as much as she usually ate, but she didn't say so.  
"Did you check out my apartment for bombs?" she asked.

He nodded.  "There wasn't anything--yet, anyway," he said.  
"Still, we need to do something to convince the assassin 
that you didn't see anything--although I'm not sure what.  
Otherwise you're going to be in danger until Jimmy or Mr. X 
testifies."

Lois swallowed a mouthful of scrambled eggs.  Clark was 
definitely some cook, all right.  Her scrambled eggs always 
wound up dry, tasteless and sometimes scorched.  "This is 
delicious, Clark."  She took a sip of coffee, fixed just as 
she liked it, except that the coffee was of a far better 
quality than the kind in the coffee machine at work.  "I 
really don't see how we can convince her, though," she 
said, reverting to the other subject.  "I mean, even if I 
advertise to the whole world that I didn't see anything, 
she probably won't believe it.  I mean, Sebastian Finn 
didn't believe I hadn't seen him murder Dr. Winninger.  Or, 
at least, he wasn't willing to take the risk."  She 
stopped.  "You *did* save my life that night in front of my 
apartment, didn't you?"

"Huh?"

"When you said someone had shot at me and I didn't believe 
you, remember?  I asked you what you had in your hands."

"Oh, that.  Yeah."

"And I thought you were just being a nuisance.  I should 
have known better.  Have you checked on Jimmy, this 
morning?"

"They wouldn't give me any information by phone, but 
Superman dropped by and made sure he was doing all right.  
He's awake, but they have him doped up on a lot of 
painkillers.  I told him you and I would be by later."

"But they're sure he's going to make it, aren't they?"

"Barring any unforeseen complications, yes."

"Or assassins," Lois said.  "We need to trap her, Clark."

"I know, but we're going to have to be careful.  Remember, 
Mayson asked us to stay away from her."

"If she'll let us.  She's after Superman, too, remember?"

"How could I forget?"  He scowled into his cup of coffee.  
"This is getting more complicated all the time."

"Well, she tagged you when you rescued her, before.  One 
thing Superman shouldn't do is be alone with her.  I don't 
trust her an inch."

"Neither do I, but I'll be on my guard the next time."

"Clark, I don't want you anywhere near her!"

He regarded her with a smile.  "I thought I was supposed to 
be protecting you."

Lois glared at him.  "We're protecting each other, and 
don't you forget it!"

"Okay," he said, mildly.  "You're right, of course.  But I 
want you to promise you won't go after her by yourself, 
either."

She scowled at him.  "Just so long as we're both clear on 
the subject."

**********

"Hey, guys, thanks for the flowers."  Jimmy smiled drowsily 
at Lois and Clark.  "I'm sorry I caused all that trouble."

"It's okay, Jimmy," Lois assured him.  "Next time, though, 
remember you're not Superman."

"Yeah, no kidding," Jimmy said.  He blinked vaguely at 
them.  "How long do I have to stay here, anyway?"

"Until you're recovered enough from the surgery," Clark 
said.  "You should probably enjoy the vacation while you 
have the chance.  At least, the Planet is paying all your 
bills."

"I'll bet Perry's mad," Jimmy said.  "Was he here?  I sort 
of remember..."

"Yes, he was," Lois said.  "But, he's not mad.  Jimmy, did 
you see the shooter?"

Jimmy yawned, his eyes beginning to close.  "Yeah," he 
said.  "I saw her."

"*Her*?" Lois repeated.  "Who was it?"

Jimmy didn't answer.  He started to snore, softly.

"I don't think you're going to get any more information 
from him, right now" Clark said.

"I guess not," Lois said.  "We know who he's talking about, 
anyway.  We need to find some way to catch her, Clark."

"We'll think of something," Clark said.  "Maybe we can talk 
to Jimmy this evening.  He'll be more awake by then."

"How do you know?"

He tapped an ear.  "I heard the doctor talking about 
putting him on a milder painkiller."

"Oh," Lois said.  "Intergang probably knows that, too."

"They might.  They've got eyes everywhere.  And ears."

"She's going to be after him, as well as Mr. X."

"I know."  He glanced at Jimmy, now slumbering peacefully.  
"Let's go talk about this somewhere else, shall we?"

"Probably a good idea," Lois said.  "We have to get to work 
sometime today."

They exited the hospital room in silence.  The police guard 
at the door looked them over, expressionlessly.  

"You know," Lois said, suddenly, "I'd like to take a look 
at her place while she's at work."

"Lo-is..."

She ignored his tone.  "Clark, we know what she's up to.  
If she's after Jimmy and Mr. X--and Superman, too--there 
might be some kind of evidence, or preparations, or--"

He rang for the elevator.  "I suppose if I won't go along 
with it, you'll go on your own, cast or no cast, right?"

"I didn't get to be the Planet's top investigative reporter 
by letting a little thing like a broken ankle slow me 
down."

Clark heaved a deep, resigned sigh.  "Okay.  When?"

"Now is as good a time as ever."

"Fine.  Let's get this over with."

**********

The penthouse where Diana Stride lived was a high-security 
dwelling, with guards and security cameras galore.  Clark 
and Lois avoided the pitfalls by the simple expedient of 
landing on the balcony outside the newswoman's living room.  
Lois inserted a credit card between the French windows to 
undo the latch.

"There!" she announced as they drifted inside and her 
partner set her down on the thick, immaculate carpet.  
"When I think of all the places we could have gotten into 
if I'd known about your powers months ago..."

"We *did* get into places because of my powers," Clark 
said.  "How do you think I got us into Bureau 39's 
warehouse, back when we first met Trask?"

Lois cocked her head thoughtfully at him.  "I hadn't 
thought about that, but it figures.  Okay, let's look this 
place over."

Diana Stride's penthouse apartment was both beautiful and 
elegantly understated.  A small alcove to one side of the 
living area held a graceful desk of cherry wood.  Lois 
nodded at it.  "That looks like the first place to check 
out."

Clark strode across the rug to the desk and began opening 
drawers, checking the contents and replacing them precisely 
as they had been.  Lois moved more slowly to the desk and 
stood by, watching her partner moving at about twice normal 
speed as he worked.  She shook her head slightly.

The bottom drawer yielded a small, cardboard box and as he 
reached for it, she saw him pause and then pull his hand 
back, frowning.

"What is it?"

"I...I don't know.  My hand feels like it's burning."

Her mental alarm bells were sounding.  "Get back," she 
said, reaching for it.  Clark hesitated and then obeyed.  
Lois opened the box.

For a moment, she was puzzled.  The object looked like a 
tube of lipstick.  Slowly, she removed the cap, and the 
mystery was solved.  The "lipstick" was green, impregnated 
with tiny, almost invisible specks of a sparkling, green, 
crystalline substance.

"Is this what I think it is?" she asked.

He moved closer, then backed away.  "Kryptonite."

Lois looked at the thing in her hand and then closed it 
quickly.  "Clark, can you go get me a tube of green makeup 
of the same size?"

"What are you going to do?"

"I want to replace this stuff with something a little less 
dangerous.  Then, let's see what Diana does with it."

"Good idea.  I'll be right back."  He was gone in a flash.  

She hoped he wouldn't take long.  If Diana Stride came 
back, she didn't want to be caught here.  Slowly, she moved 
over to one of the chairs, sat down and began to examine 
what she held.

From the outside, it looked like an ordinary lipstick, with 
a monogrammed gold case.  Lois tugged at it experimentally.  
The case came off easily enough, and she wrapped the tube 
containing the Kryptonite-laced lipstick in a discarded 
tissue before tucking it into her purse.  It didn't seem to 
have had as severe an effect on Clark as the piece they had 
encountered last week, courtesy of Nigel St. John, but 
perhaps that was because it was blended with the waxy 
paste.  Why on Earth would Diana Stride want a tube of 
Kryptonite lipstick?  

She didn't like where that question led.  If they were 
correct in their assumption that the woman was an assassin 
for Intergang, then the reason was pretty clear, even if 
the exact method might be in doubt.  Superman had been a 
thorn in Intergang's side for a long time.  Eliminating him 
was undoubtedly a very much-desired goal.  Whether it was 
by way of exposing his other identity, or simply killing 
him, Diana Stride appeared to be out to do just that.

A gust of air announced the return of her partner.  Clark 
emerged from a small whirlwind and crossed the rug to her, 
a tube of green-colored lipstick in his hand.  Lois raised 
an eyebrow at it, but took the proffered item.  She'd seen 
people wearing this stuff, and always thought it looked a 
little strange, but it was just what she needed.  Quickly, 
she pulled off the plastic case and thrust the tube down 
into the gold one.  "How's that?"

"Pretty good," was Clark's judgement.  "It looks just like 
the other one."

It did seem to be.  She twisted the tube to extend the 
lipstick.  "How did you make it sparkle like that?"

"I used my heat vision to blend in some micro-crystalline 
quartz," he explained, looking smug.

"Good thinking."  She handed the tube back to him.  "Here, 
put this back, and we can--"  She broke off as she saw him 
lift his head.  "What?"

There was the rattle of a key in the door lock.

Clark moved in a blur.  In an instant, they were in the 
bedroom, and the tube of lipstick had vanished.

"Where is it?" she whispered.

"Where it belongs.  Shh!"

Lois could hear the sounds of the outer door opening and 
then closing again.  Clark, standing beside her, had his 
glasses pushed down his nose and was apparently staring 
intently at the bedroom door.  Even in the tension of the 
moment, she recalled the incident a few months previously 
when she had pretended to be a maintenance tech, sent to 
repair a copy machine at Viologic.  Clark had accompanied 
her, and she recalled him staring at a blank wall in 
exactly that manner--undoubtedly watching someone on the 
other side, and listening to a conversation she hadn't been 
able to hear.

And yet, for all his incredible abilities--abilities that 
would have let him run rings around her when it came to 
bringing in scoops on his own, had he chosen to do so--he'd 
never used the fact that he was Superman to beat her out of 
a story.

Except once.  The thought intruded suddenly, and she felt 
her face growing heated with shame.

It had not been long after Clark joined the staff at the 
Planet.  She'd still thought of him as a hick, a dull-
witted hayseed who couldn't land a decent story to save his 
life.  She'd been single-mindedly after the scoop on 
Superman, and had traded on his trust to steal his story 
about the double rescue that Superman performed that day.  

Lois felt her face growing warmer, and knew that if she 
were to look in the mirror, her cheeks would be scarlet.  
Her behavior had been abominable; she'd known that at the 
time but admitting it to Clark hadn't been an option back 
then.  A few days later, however, she found out the hard 
way that her estimation of Clark Kent had been in error--to 
say the least.  He had gotten the Superman interview, of 
course--all he had to do was to interview himself.  She 
could hardly blame him now for having been unwilling to 
give it to her, and she would never, to the end of her 
days, forget those hours at the sewage reclamation 
facility--or the Godzilla doll.  He'd punished her for her 
breach of journalistic etiquette, and he'd done it with 
style.  Country boy he might be, but he was neither stupid 
nor afraid to stand up for himself.  She respected him from 
that day on and after her sense of pique had subsided, had 
actually begun to like him.  He'd never mentioned the 
incident again.

He moved suddenly, startling her out of her recollections. 
She felt herself scooped up in his arms, and an instant 
later, they were floating outside the bedroom window of the 
penthouse.  Clark gently closed the glass, and then headed 
straight up, the crutches dangling awkwardly from the hand 
under her knees.

Lois caught her breath.  "Wow!"

"Sorry.  She was on her way toward the bedroom.  I figured 
I'd better get us out of there."

"You figured right.  What was going on in there?"

He gave her a faint grin.  "The first thing she did was go 
get the lipstick."  He looked at her face and one eyebrow 
went up.  "Is something wrong, Lois?  You're blushing."

"No," she lied.  "Nothing.  You were saying?"

"Well, after she got the lipstick, she turned on her 
television set--only it was more like a videophone, or 
something.  She was talking to the guy on the screen.  From 
the conversation, I'd say he's some kind of middle 
management with Intergang."

"What did he look like?"

He shrugged.  "Just a guy.  But she apparently sent them a 
'device' to be worked on.  It's supposed to be ready by 
tomorrow."

"That thing you zapped yesterday?"

"Could be.  Let's get back to the Planet.  I'd like to get 
rid of that thing you put in your purse.  It stings."

Lois held the purse a few inches farther away from him.  "I 
think we should take it to Professor Hamilton."

"You're thinking clearer than I am.  You're right.  
Professor Hamilton it is."

********** 

"Hmm..."  Emil Hamilton examined the small tube of green 
lipstick with its tiny Kryptonite granules.  "This is quite 
an unusual item.  At a guess, I'd say it wasn't 
manufactured by a legitimate cosmetics company.  At least 
not as part of their regular production line.  You say you 
believe that the ingredients include Kryptonite?"

"Take it from me, Professor," Clark said, "it's there.  We 
want to know what else is in it and if possible who might 
have manufactured it."

The little man shook his head.  "All right, I'll do my 
best, Superman.  But, what use would someone have for 
Kryptonite lipstick?"

Lois shrugged.  "Not a good one," she said.  "Someone 
tagged Superman with a radioactive marker the other night, 
if you remember.  We think it was the same person who had 
this."

Hamilton fiddled with his glasses.  "Would it be 
presumptuous if I were to say that this whole episode makes 
me very nervous?  I can't think of any benevolent reason 
for someone to have this--or to have marked you 
radioactively, Superman."

"Neither can I," Clark said.  "When you have anything, 
please call Lois, right away."

Professor Hamilton nodded, looking slightly agitated.  
"Certainly, Superman."

********** 

Entering the newsroom sometime later, Clark glanced down at 
Lois who had begun to maneuver her way down the steps into 
the Pit.  She made a face as she made it safely once more 
to level ground.  "I'd forgotten how sore your arms get the 
first few days on crutches."

"Well," he returned, "you haven't exactly been taking it 
easy, either."

"Since when do I have time to take it easy?" she inquired.  
"And it's just as well for you that I don't."

Clark might have argued, but, judging by the scowl on 
Lois's face, she wasn't in the mood for it.  "Well, you can 
at least sit still and relax a little for a while, now."  
He pulled out her desk chair for her and held it while she 
lowered herself into it.  "Better?"

"A little.  I can't help wonder what Diana Stride is going 
to do next, though."

"Well, whatever it is, we want her to do it.  She's not 
going to get very far without her lipstick."

"If I didn't know better, that would sound pretty male 
chauvinist," Lois said, giving him a faint smile.  "What 
are you going to do?"

"That all depends on her," Clark said.  "Whatever it is, I 
plan on cooperating with her--up to a point.  That was a 
good idea of yours, Lois, so let's see where it goes.  But, 
will you do me a favor in the meantime?"

"What?"

"Be *really* careful.  You're a target, too, and I can't be 
with you every minute.  I don't know what I'd do if 
something happened to you."

She looked up at him, seeming to be a little startled.  "I 
can take care of myself, Clark."

"Yes--usually."  He reached out to rest his fingers on 
hers.  "But, these are special circumstances.  Promise me?"

She made a little face.  "You don't play fair, did you know 
that, Kent?  All right, I promise to be careful."

Well, that was a little reassurance, but, as Clark was well 
aware, Lois's idea of "careful" didn't always jibe with his 
own.  Oh well, it was better than nothing...

The elevator doors opened again at that moment and Perry, 
accompanied by Diana Stride, exited, laughing, followed by 
Rolf Landrieu, the cameraman.  Perry looked around and 
Clark could have sworn he saw a relieved expression flit 
across his boss's face.

"Ah, here they are!" Perry announced.  "I wanted you to 
meet these two, Diana."  He led the way over to Lois's 
desk, and Clark had to force himself to stay relaxed as 
their editor introduced the anchorwoman to them.  "Clark 
Kent and Lois Lane--Diana Stride.  Clark and Lois are 
friends of Superman's, so they can probably tell you more 
about him then anyone else here."

Diana Stride was holding out a hand to Lois.  "Lois Lane!  
I've always wanted to meet you!  What happened to your 
foot?"

"I broke it in a mine, last weekend," Lois said.

"Oh, yes, I remember reading the article!  The old Billy 
Moran heist!"  Diana smiled her trademark smile, made 
famous by Top Copy.  "How exciting that must have been!"

"Well, that wasn't exactly what I'd have called it," Lois 
said, drily.  "This is my partner, Clark Kent."

Clark nodded to her.  "Ms. Stride."

"Diana," Diana Stride said.  "I want to make time to 
interview both of you.  You did hear that Top Copy is doing 
a tribute to Superman, didn't you?"

"Yes, the news gets around," Clark said.

"Oh, good!  Then, I'll arrange to meet you for an 
interview, a little later.  Will that be all right?"

Apparently assuming that he would automatically agree with 
her request, she turned to Rolf.  "Who's next on our 
schedule?"

The cameraman consulted a slip of paper in his hand.  "I 
believe, Deborah Kensington is next."

"Oh, yes."  Diana Stride turned away to seek out the 
slightly older woman who was crossing the Pit toward them.

As the three moved away, talking, Clark looked at his boss, 
who was standing beside Lois's chair, his hands in his 
pockets.  "You're awfully friendly with her, all of a 
sudden."

"Yeah, well I've always believed that old adage--'Keep your 
friends close and your enemies closer'."

"Makes sense," Lois said, softly.  "I guess the next move 
is hers, now."

"What do you mean?" Perry asked.  "I take it you two have 
been busy this morning?"

"Well, this afternoon," Lois amended.

"Come into my office," Perry said.  "Normally, I wouldn't 
be too involved in your business, but in this case, I think 
I'd like an update."

Lois and Clark exchanged glances.  Perry raised his 
eyebrows.  "Am I the boss, or not?"

Clark shrugged and gave Lois a hand to her feet.  "I guess 
we should tell him what's going on."

Lois reached for her crutches, but Perry retrieved them.  
"Here you go."  He glanced casually at Diana Stride and 
grinned, cheerfully.  The anchorwoman smiled briefly in 
return and resumed her conversation with Deborah.  The 
cameraman was watching them, as well, and to Clark's 
discomfort the man met his eyes, then deliberately looked 
him up and down from head to foot.  Suppressing the slight 
feeling of something crawling on the back of his neck, he 
followed Lois and Perry toward the editor's office.

When the door closed behind them, Perry deliberately turned 
the locking lever and walked slowly around to settle into 
his desk chair.  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on 
the desk and his chin on his fists.  "Have a seat," he 
said.  "I want to know what you two have been up to."

His two top investigative reporters looked at each other.  
"All of it?" Clark asked.

Perry nodded.  "I think this whole thing has gotten to the 
stage where I need to know details."

Lois and Clark looked at each other again, and Clark 
nodded, a little reluctantly.  "Why don't you tell him, 
Lois?"  He took the crutches she handed him and gave her a 
hand while she lowered herself into the nearest chair.  His 
partner met his eyes as he did so and he hoped she 
understood the message he was trying to convey.  Superman 
didn't lie, and he was almost as uncomfortable telling 
half-truths.  He'd done it for years, but that didn't mean 
he wanted to.  Lois, on the other hand, had no such 
difficulties.  She smiled faintly and began speaking 
without hesitation.

"I guess it started night before last, Chief.  Superman 
dropped by my place to ask Clark and me for some help..."

Perry's expression didn't change.  "Go on."

Quickly, she explained about the radioactive substance with 
which Diana Stride had tagged Superman.  "That was why we 
suspected something wasn't kosher when she showed up 
yesterday morning, and when our source at City Hall told us 
that the assassin was famous, we were both a little 
suspicious.  Then, of course, her name popped up when Jimmy 
ran that search on the assassinated leaders, so Jimmy and I 
trailed her--and you know what happened, then," Lois 
continued.  "So, Clark and I decided to do a search of her 
penthouse, this afternoon--"

"How did you--no," Perry interrupted himself, "I don't want 
to know anything about how you managed to get into a high 
security building without getting caught.  So, I take it 
you found something?"

"Yeah," Lois said.  "Kryptonite lipstick."

"What?"

"She had a tube of green lipstick that Superman said had 
Kryptonite in it."

Perry frowned.  "He was sure?"

Clark nodded.  "He was positive, Chief."

"That doesn't sound good," Perry said, stating the obvious.  
"What did you do with it?"

"Who said we did anything with it?" Lois asked.

Her editor merely lifted an eyebrow.  Lois grinned 
guiltily.  "We substituted a fake, with Superman's help.  
Professor Hamilton has the real one.  Now, we want to see 
what happens."

"Not a bad idea," Perry said, slowly.  

"We thought so," Lois said.

Perry sat up.  "Good work.  If she's the assassin--and I'd 
bet my pension that she is--then we've got a pretty good 
idea what she's up to.  Superman's just the latest in a 
long line of important people on her interview list and we 
all know what happened to them.  Still, you might want some 
kind of proof that she's up to no good."

"And that would be...?"

Their editor frowned thoughtfully.  "Let me get back to you 
on that.  And, Clark, do you think you could get hold of 
Superman for me?"

"Sure, Chief.  When?"

"Say in about half an hour."  He looked pensive.  "If she's 
planning on using Kryptonite lipstick to kill Superman, 
there's only one way I can think of that she could manage 
it.  Talk about the kiss of death..."  

**********

The light on the telephone answering machine was blinking 
when Lois and Clark arrived at his apartment, that 
afternoon and when Clark answered it, it was no surprise to 
hear Diana Stride's voice issuing from the speaker.  

"Well, there it is," Lois said.  "Please be careful, 
Clark."

He nodded, reassuringly.  "Don't worry.  We got rid of the 
dangerous stuff, remember."

"I don't trust her, Clark.  She didn't get to be 
Intergang's top assassin by being stupid.  Don't let your 
guard down for an instant, understand?"

"I do, and I won't."  He stepped back and began to spin.  
The grey of Clark's suit became a blur of red and blue, and 
when he stopped, Superman stood there.  Lois released her 
breath.  

"Wow.  I'm not sure I'll ever get used to that."  She 
stepped forward and rested a hand on his chest.  "You know, 
it's funny--I know I'm talking to Clark, but sometimes it's 
hard to see him behind Superman."

"I'm always Clark, Lois."

"I know."  She hesitated and then continued, trying to put 
into words some of the things that she had been thinking 
about since his revelation in the mine.  "When I thought 
you were two people, I admired Superman tremendously.  He 
had all the qualities I looked for in a man--but when 
Johnny Corbin attacked Superman, and I was explaining to 
you why I cared about him--it suddenly occurred to me that 
you had them all, too.  You were what Superman might be 
like, if he had no powers."

"I remember."  He was smiling at her--Clark's smile, she 
thought.  How had she ever missed that?  "That was when I 
really started to hope that maybe you were beginning to see 
me as something more than a partner."

"I was.  The thing I didn't say--maybe because I wasn't 
really ready to admit it--was that I suddenly realized that 
Clark mattered to me as much as Superman.  It upset me that 
Johnny Corbin had hurt Superman, but it upset me just as 
much that he hurt Clark, when he kidnapped you.  I didn't 
know which one was the most important to me.  I thought I 
knew which man I loved--up until then.  Do you have any 
idea how confusing it was?  And you both ran away from me 
whenever I tried to get close to one or the other of you.  
I came within inches of murdering you both!  That should 
have told me the truth right there, you know--that both of 
you made me want to wring your necks!"

"Do you still want to?" he asked.

"It wouldn't matter if I did.  Besides, I've got the rest 
of my life to pay you back for it."  She poked him in the 
chest.  "So, you make sure you're careful, Superman!  I 
haven't said nearly as much as I intend to."

Clark's smile had broadened as she spoke.  "I like that 
'rest of your life' thing.  I promise I'll be careful, 
Lois--if only to give you the satisfaction of yelling at 
me, later."

"Just be sure you are!"  She glared at him to hide the 
worry she felt, knowing he would see right through it as he 
always did.  He leaned forward slightly, brushing her cheek 
with the tips of his fingers.  Almost by instinct, she 
lifted her face as he did so, and felt his lips touch hers 
with an almost electric jolt.  The caress--intended to be 
reassuring, she was sure--grew longer and more intense, 
until she was in danger of running out of air.  Clark 
straightened up, and Lois gave a little gasp.  "And," she 
said, when she had caught her breath, "that's another 
reason to come back here as soon as you can!"

**********

 Rolf was waiting for him when he landed.  A table had been 
set with china and crystal, and the cameraman was pouring 
wine, but he turned as Clark stepped inside, and looked him 
up and down.  Clark experienced the same crawling feeling 
on the back of his neck as he had this afternoon.  

"Diana will be here in just a minute," he said.  "In the 
meantime, can I get you some wine?  It's not a bad Merlot."

Clark folded his arms.  "No, thank you, Rolf."

The man grunted and put down the decanter.  Without 
hesitation, he drained the wineglass and set it on the 
table.  He seemed to hesitate, then apparently made up his 
mind and moved closer to Clark.  "You know," he said, in a 
lower voice, "as long as I have you here, there is 
something I have always wanted to ask you."  He smiled, and 
Clark fought the urge to squirm.  "When I wear my very 
tightest ski pants, I always get--well--chafed.  Do you 
find that this happens to you?"

Clark moved away as casually as he could manage.  "No," he 
said, "but it helps to be invulnerable."

"Hmm."  Rolf's voice was punctuated by the sound of the 
double doors behind him opening, and Clark couldn't help 
his eyes widening slightly as Diana Stride made her 
entrance.  The wall behind her was emblazoned with the 
words "Top Copy", and she posed for a split second in front 
of it before she came forward, moving with the ease of a 
stalking cat.  She was dressed in a long, low cut dress 
that revealed her figure to the best advantage, and he had 
to admit that physically, she was a very beautiful woman.  
If she hadn't been what she was, he could have admired what 
he saw.  As it was, he regarded her warily.

She didn't seem to notice.  Instead, she smiled gently and 
spoke to her cameraman.  "Rolf, I'd like to be alone with 
Superman."

Rolf gave Clark another head to toe look and spoke a phrase 
in French.  "What girl wouldn't?"

Clark, who's French was as flawless as his English, ignored 
the other man and focussed his attention on the real enemy, 
as the cameraman sauntered from the room.  Diana rolled her 
eyes as he passed, but said nothing more until the double 
doors closed behind him.  Then, she moved gracefully toward 
Clark.

"Ms. Stride," he said.

"Diana."  She smiled seductively.

Clark reminded himself that he was supposed to be here for 
an interview regarding Top Copy's supposed tribute to 
Superman.  "I know your story isn't a tribute.  It's an 
attempt to expose me."

"Expose you?"  She laughed softly.  "Do you have something 
to hide?"

"We all have something to hide, Ms. Stride--some of us for 
the good of others and some of us for their own gain."  He 
paused.  "I'm here to tell you, Ms. Stride, drop the 
story."

Diana's lips drooped and she lowered her eyes.  "Superman 
I--I can't."  She turned away, the picture of dejection.  
If he hadn't been watching, he wouldn't have noticed the 
small, gold lipstick case in her hand.  "You see, if I drop 
this story, I'm going to lose my show, and that's all I 
have."  She removed the cap from the lipstick, holding it 
casually while she continued her act.  "When you want so 
much from life and then you get so much more than you 
expected--the thought of having it all taken away--"  Diana 
lifted the tube to her lips and applied the lipstick.  "--
Can make you do things--things you never even thought you 
were capable of."  She gave a little sob and dropped her 
face into her hand.  It was chilling to Clark to realize 
how coldly she was going about this attempt to kill him--
all the while pretending to be a vulnerable, helpless 
woman.  If it hadn't been for Lois's discovery of the 
radioactive tag that she had placed on him, he would have 
no idea of what she had planned.  There was a reason, he 
reminded himself, for his partner's unrivalled status as 
the top investigative reporter at the Daily Planet--or any 
other newspaper in Metropolis--and a reason for the respect 
in which he held her.  

Diana lifted her head, muffling another sob.  Clark had to 
admire her acting ability.  If he hadn't known she was up 
to no good, he would have been completely fooled.  Still, 
the sight of a woman crying went against the grain, and, he 
reminded himself again, he wasn't supposed to know about 
her other job.

"Please, don't cry," he said, awkwardly.

She turned.  "That's why I did this--or maybe it's because 
I'm no damn good."

"There's good in everyone," Clark said.

She moved quickly, pressing her lips against his and in 
that instant, he felt it--the sting of Kryptonite.  He 
jerked away in near panic, belatedly realizing what she had 
done as weakness swept over him and he stumbled back and 
went to his knees.  Somehow, she must have detected the 
substitution and replaced the harmless lipstick with 
another.  

Diana Stride was speaking, but he wasn't listening.  He 
staggered to his feet and lurched desperately toward the 
railing of the balcony outside the studio window, hearing 
Diana's soft, mocking laughter behind him.  He half-fell 
over the railing and plummeted like a stone for a hundred 
feet before he regained some measure of equilibrium and 
managed to brake his fall to the pavement, thirty stories 
below.  Fighting desperately to maintain his altitude and 
barely able to keep to a level flight, he wavered toward 
his apartment with only one thought in his mind.  He had to 
make it to Lois.  She was the only one who might be able to 
help him, now. 

**********    
 
Lois lowered herself onto the couch in Clark's living area, 
elevated her broken ankle on the ottoman and glanced at her 
wristwatch for the third time in five minutes.  The 
television muttered in the background, but she wasn't 
paying attention to the state of the world economy or even 
the local news.  Clark hadn't been gone long, but she knew 
she wouldn't be able to relax until he got back.

The teapot sat on the coffee table along with a teacup and 
saucer, where Clark had put them before he left.  She 
picked it up and poured herself a cup.  She probably 
shouldn't drink it, she thought, stirring a teaspoon of 
artificial sweetener into the liquid.  She was nervous 
enough already, but she gulped it down anyway and poured 
another cup. Although Clark hadn't been enthusiastic about 
the idea, they had decided to play out the game with Diana 
Stride.  The fact that she had chosen lipstick as her 
weapon of choice had, as Perry pointed out, pretty much 
given away her avenue of attack.  The thought of allowing 
the woman to kiss him gave Clark cold chills, but he'd 
agreed that it might be a way to make her betray herself.  
It would be safe enough, Lois told herself for the fiftieth 
time.  They had pulled the assassin's fangs when they had 
taken her Kryptonite lipstick away.  But, if she thought 
she had managed to poison Superman, she might say something 
that would interest the district attorney.  All Clark had 
to do was to leave behind the bug that Perry had supplied 
him with, earlier that afternoon.  It might be enough to 
have her taken out of circulation long enough for Jimmy to 
give his sworn statement and make the value of killing him 
a moot point.    

The smash of glass and a heavy thud from Clark's sleeping 
area made her jerk around in shock, dropping the teacup to 
the rug.  She didn't even notice as she struggled to her 
feet and around the partition.

Clark, clad in the Superman suit, was on his hands and 
knees on the floor.  She nearly fell over a footstool that 
had somehow gotten in her way as she tried to hurry to his 
side.  "Ohmigod, Clark, what happened?"

He hauled himself painfully to a chair and sank into it, 
and she could see that the healthy color had drained from 
his face.  He was breathing heavily.  Lois rested the back 
of her hand on his cheek.  "You're burning up!  What did 
she do?"

He leaned his head back against the wall.  "Somehow she 
found out that we switched lipsticks.  She had another--"

"Ohmigod--"

"Lois--the Kryptonite--it's inside me."

Lois stared at him, aghast.  Then, in typical Mad Dog Lane 
style, she sprang into action.  "Come on."

"Where?"

"We're going to the hospital.  We have to get that stuff 
out of you before it gets into your system."

"Lois, I can't go to the hospital--besides, what would they 
do?"

"The same thing they did to Lucy the time she ate a bottle 
of baby aspirin!  They pumped her stomach.  Come on, 
there's not much time!"

"I can't--"

"Yes, you can," Lois said.  "Clark can't go to the 
hospital, but there's no reason *Superman* can't.  They 
*know* he's an alien, and there's no way I'll let anybody 
dissect you!  Now, let's go!"

**********

The trip to the hospital was a nightmare that Lois would 
never forget.  Traffic was heavy at this time of the 
evening and it seemed as if every stoplight was against 
them.  Finally, just as she was about to cross the double 
line to get around a row of stopped cars, she spotted a 
motorcycle cop and decided that this time, she could use 
the police force to help.

"Officer!"  She raised her voice to be heard over the blare 
of horns and the other noises of Metropolis's rush hour.  
Waving and flashing her lights, she frantically signaled 
the man, and just when she thought that she had failed to 
attract his attention, he wheeled his cycle around and 
rolled up to her window.  "Yeah, lady?"

"Officer, I'm Lois Lane from the Daily Planet.  I've got an 
emergency."

The man looked past her and his eyes widened slightly.  "Is 
that--?"

Clark was leaning back in the seat, his eyes closed.  Lois 
nodded, vigorously.  "It's Superman, officer.  He's been 
poisoned.  I have to get him to the emergency room fast!  
Please help me!"

The man looked doubtful.  "I didn't think anything could 
hurt Superman."

Clark opened his eyes slightly.  "Kryptonite--" he 
whispered.

"Do you remember the stuff I wrote about--Kryptonite?" Lois 
asked, quickly.  "It's real, and it's going to kill him, if 
I don't get him to a doctor!"

The motorcycle officer hesitated for an instant, then 
seemed to make up his mind and nodded.  "Follow me."  His 
siren and lights came to life and the motorcycle rolled 
forward, cars pulling to the sides of the street to let him 
through.  Lois followed.

Later, Lois would recall what followed only as a set of 
confused memories.  Somehow, they made it to the hospital 
and Superman was rushed away on a gurney with a doctor 
issuing terse orders to white-coated personnel.  Lois found 
herself ushered gently to a hard, plastic chair by the 
motorcycle cop, whom she now realized couldn't be much 
older than her--he was probably younger, actually, judging 
by his unlined, almost boyish face.

"Are you all right, Ms. Lane?" he asked.

She nodded, feeling a little numb.

"Do you care to tell me what happened?" he asked.

"I don't know, exactly," Lois said.  "Superman came to me 
for help.  He said he'd been poisoned with Kryptonite.  
You'll have to get the story from him, I guess."

The man nodded.  "All right.  I'll have to make a report."

She nodded without answering.  To her annoyance, she could 
feel herself starting to shake.  The young cop apparently 
noticed, for he rose to his feet and went to the water 
cooler.  A moment later, he handed her a paper cup of 
lukewarm liquid.  "Here, drink this.  Superman's in good 
hands, Ms. Lane."

Again she nodded and drank the water.  "Thanks.  And thanks 
for helping me."

"Hey, no problem.  Superman's done a lot for us guys on the 
force.  I'm glad I could help."

**********

"Ms. Lane?"

Lois looked up from the magazine she had been thumbing 
absently through.  A middle-aged woman was standing in the 
doorway through which Superman had disappeared, nearly an 
hour ago.  "Yes?"

"Dr. Patinkin would like to speak to you."

"Oh--okay."  Lois hoisted herself to her feet.  Maybe the 
doctor would have some news about Clark, she thought as she 
maneuvered her way toward the door.  The wall clock told 
her that she had been waiting for fifty-three minutes, but 
it seemed much longer.  The woman held the door for her and 
as she went by, Lois glanced at her name tag, which 
identified her as Norma Yale, LVN.  

"How's Superman?" she asked, the instant the panel closed.

"Dr. Patinkin will answer your questions," the other woman 
replied, without changing her expression.  "You're that 
reporter from the Daily Planet, aren't you?" 

"Yes, but that's not why I'm here," Lois said.  "Superman's 
a friend of mine."

Nurse Yale appeared to consider.  "I guess I've heard that.  
All right, I'm not supposed to say anything, but he's doing 
all right, so far."

"Thanks," Lois said, relaxing slightly.  

"Sure.  Come this way, please."

Dr. Patinkin was a short, slightly chubby woman with an air 
of competence that Lois found reassuring.  She was sitting 
behind a cluttered desk, reading a chart when the nurse 
escorted Lois into her office, but put it down at once when 
Lois maneuvered her awkward way into the room.  "Ms. Lane?"

Lois nodded.  "Yes.  How's Superman?"

The doctor frowned slightly.  "Have a seat, Ms. Lane.  I 
need to ask a few things.  Superman appears quite uneasy 
and reluctant to answer questions.  He's resting at the 
moment, and after we've spoken, I'll have someone take you 
to his cubicle."

"Resting?"

The doctor nodded.  "Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't 
be telling you this, but since he hasn't anyone else to 
notify in case of emergency, and since he's listed you, and 
a Mr. Perry White, as the closest thing he has to a 'next 
of kin', I believe I can make a limited exception.  I 
believe we managed to clear the poisonous substance from 
his stomach before much of it could get into his 
bloodstream.  What can you tell me about this 
'Kryptonite'?"

"Not a lot," Lois said.  "I know it's part of his home 
planet.  Apparently, it's the only thing that can hurt 
him."

"He told me that," Dr. Patinkin said.  "How dangerous is it 
to humans?"

"As far as I know, it isn't," Lois said.  

She nodded, thoughtfully.  "Tell me--Superman wasn't very 
forthcoming.  How did this happen?"

Lois hesitated.  "I don't know the details.  Apparently, 
someone tried to kill him."

"You're certain of that?"

"Positive.  Why?"

The doctor smiled, drily.  "I needed it for my report.  
It's a state law--I have to report suspicious cases of 
poisoning."

"Well, I think Superman's going to report it when he can.  
Is he going to be all right?"  Lois held her breath.

"I believe so."  Dr. Patinkin tapped her pen against the 
chart.  "I can't be absolutely certain there won't be any 
after effects, of course.  I want to keep him under 
observation overnight for other possible complications, at 
least until morning, but he appears very reluctant to stay.  
If this weren't Superman, I'd think he was apprehensive of 
the suggestion.  Can you think of any reason why?"

"Um--I'm not sure."

The doctor regarded her for a moment.  "If you have any 
idea, I'd like to hear it.  It would be safer for him to be 
here, if complications arise.  If there's anything we can 
do to make him more comfortable--"

"Maybe I could talk to him," Lois said.

"I was going to suggest that.  I realize Superman is 
reluctant to tell strangers much about himself--"  The 
doctor smiled.  "Still, if we're to do our best for him, 
there are certain things we need to know."

"I don't think it has anything to do with what happened," 
Lois said.  "Superman--has his reasons.  I can't really 
talk about it.  He wouldn't like it."

"All right."  Dr. Patinkin got to her feet.  "You should 
also know," she added, "that someone apparently alerted the 
media to Superman's presence here.  There's a mob of 
reporters outside."

Lois hoisted herself to her crutches once more.  "I should 
have expected that.  I'm sorry."

The doctor smiled, grimly.  "That's all right.  Security 
can handle them."

**********

Clark was still lying on the narrow emergency room bed, 
looking pale and drawn when Lois entered his cubicle.  He 
opened his eyes when he saw her.  

"Hi," she said.  "How do you feel?"

He swallowed.  "Okay."  His voice sounded hoarse.   

Lois glanced around, making sure the curtains behind her 
were completely closed and moved closer to his bed.  "You 
don't sound okay."  She spoke in a low voice.  "I've never 
heard you with a hoarse throat before."

He made a face.  "I'll explain when we get out of here."

"Superman," she began, mindful of listening ears, "Dr. 
Patinkin wants you to stay overnight for observation.  I 
think you should."

"Lois, I don't want to," he said, his voice lowered to a 
bare thread of sound.  "My powers are gone again.  Some of 
the Kryptonite must have gotten into my system."

Lois checked the curtains once more to be sure they were 
closed.  "Superman, that's all the more reason you should 
stay."  She bit her lip.  "The doctor wants to be sure 
there aren't any complications.  *I* want to be sure there 
aren't."

For a moment, he looked rebellious but finally, he sighed.  
"I know.  I guess I should, but you know how I feel about--
"

She released the handle of one of the crutches and clasped 
his hand.  "No one is going to 'dissect you like a frog'.  
No one could do anything like that to you, even if they 
were the kind to try, and I don't believe they are.  The 
doctor I spoke with wants to help.  Please let her."

He hesitated a long moment.  "You're right, of course.  I 
know it's irrational."

"Then, you'll stay?"

"I guess so."  He cleared his throat.  "I actually don't 
feel too bad.  You had a good idea, Lois--even if it wasn't 
comfortable.  What would I do without you?"

"Just remember that, the next time you think one of my 
ideas is too out there," Lois said.

"I'll try to," Clark said.  "One thing's for sure--I'm 
really learning to appreciate being invulnerable, now that 
I'm not."

Someone twitched the curtains.  Dr. Patinkin said, "May I 
come in?"

"Sure," Clark said.

The doctor pushed aside the curtains.  "I hope Ms. Lane has 
convinced you to stay overnight, Superman?"

"I guess."  Clark's assent clearly lacked enthusiasm.  The 
doctor smiled sympathetically.

"I know you probably aren't happy at the idea, Superman, 
but it's important.  We don't know anything about what the 
effects of your ingesting this substance can be.  
Metropolis needs Superman in good health."

He sighed.  "I suppose so.  All right, I'll stay for 
tonight, but if nothing has turned up by morning--"

"That seems reasonable," Dr. Patinkin said.  "I'll have 
someone take you to a room for the night.  Since the media 
knows you're here, I'm going to admit you under another 
name--just in case any of them manage to slip past 
Security."  

"In the meantime," Lois said, "maybe I should bring you 
some pajamas.  I don't think you want to wear one of those 
drafty hospital gowns."  The expression on his face said it 
all.  "Right.  I'll ask Clark if you can borrow some of his 
sweats.  He's about your size."

"Thanks," Clark said.  "And Lois--be careful.  Remember, 
you're still a target."

"I haven't forgotten," Lois said.  "I'll be careful."

**********

That thought stayed with her as she left the hospital 
through a side door to avoid the press.  The vivid memory 
of the bomb under the hood of Perry's car made her summon a 
cab to take her to Clark's apartment and return her to the 
hospital forty-five minutes later.  Clark was gratifyingly 
relieved to receive the clothing but, although she would 
have willingly stayed, visiting hours had ended and she was 
forced to leave.  Again, she summoned a cab to take her to 
her apartment.  As the taxi pulled up in front of her place 
on Carter Avenue, another thought made her pause.

She was a target.  Clark had reminded her of the fact, and 
she was learning not to underestimate Diana Stride.

"Here we are, lady," the cabby said.  "That'll be thirty-
two-eighty."

"I've changed my mind," she said, after a moment.  "Take me 
to 344 Clinton."

The cabby grunted.  "Okay; it's your money."

Five minutes later, the cab stopped in front of Clark's 
apartment.  "Here you go, lady."

Lois paid the fare, added a modest tip and got out.  The 
street was dark, and quiet.  She turned to the driver.  
"Would you wait until I get inside?"

He shrugged.  "Sure.  No problem."

She was beginning to be able to work the crutches more 
efficiently and it took only a couple of minutes to make 
her way to the door of Clark's place.  With his spare key, 
she unlocked the door and went in, closing it behind her.

The apartment was chilly, and she remembered that Clark's 
window had been broken.  Hopefully, it wasn't visible to 
anyone passing by outside.  As a precaution, she turned on 
lights and made a complete tour of the apartment, after 
which she concluded that she was the only person who had 
been