In Cat's Corner
By Irene Dutch <sirenegold@yahoo.com>
Rated: PG13
Submitted: March 2002


This story is dedicated to merry - LnC fanfic's biggest 
supporter.  Thank you, merry, for all your support and 
nag... um, encouragement.  I especially like it when you 
tell me that real life is no excuse for not writing! ;)

Also, thank you, Wendy and Laurie, my fabulous beta-
readers.  Your comments, criticisms and suggestions are 
more than welcome! Thank you as well to my editor, Sarah 
Murray, for all her assistance.

A huge thank-you to the queen of A-plots, Nan Smith, and 
her devoted consort, er, hubby, for their very helpful 
suggestions and brainstorming.  Things wouldn't have 
progressed very far without them.

I also have to thank Tank Wilson for helping me figure out 
how Lois might react in certain situations.  Sometimes 
she's an enigma to me, and it's a huge relief to be able to 
count on someone like Tank who understands her so well.

Thanks, too, to Alicia, Dharsh, and Amber for their help 
with Indian culture. 

Finally, of course, I have to thank the readers who 
frequent Zoom's message boards.  Your support and 
suggestions were invaluable as always.

WARNING - In this fanfic, one of the characters is quite 
racist and uses racial epithets in casual conversation.  
This is NO way reflects my own personal beliefs.  I strive 
to be tolerant of all people, regardless of race, creed or 
gender.  I'm sure that I sometimes fall short of this goal, 
but I will never stop trying to achieve it.

MILD PROFANITY WARNING

VIOLENCE WARNING - My villains really aren't nice people. 

All standard disclaimers apply.



~~~ In Cat's Corner ~~~


Prologue

The tall, blond man laughed heartily.  Unbelievable.  This 
was just unbelievable!

Life was funny.  And fun.  Very, very fun.  To think this 
all started because his grades in high school had been 
rather uninspired.  They would have been better, but there 
had always been so many other things - fun things - to do 
that took precedence over studying.

And it was because he'd had such a good time in high school 
that he'd ended up at UNW.  UNW had been lots of fun, too, 
but let's face it--it wasn't known for the quality of its 
diplomas.  But who cared?  He'd kept his paterfamilias 
happy, and with all that lovely inheritance at stake, that 
had been important.  Too bad his father hadn't left as much 
as anticipated upon croaking.  But he had plans to make up 
for that shortfall.

If he hadn't attended UNW, he'd have never met Bobo.  And 
if Bobo weren't getting married, he'd have never bought 
Bobo a wedding present.  And if his last mistress hadn't 
thought she was an artist, he would have never bought that 
ridiculous statue from her to send to his friend.  And if 
he hadn't used Lex-mail because that ridiculous statue 
needed special packaging....  If, if, if. 

And the final 'if'.  If Luthor hadn't employed a clumsy 
klutz...

True, life was good.  But it was about to get a whole lot 
better!

In Cat's Corner
By Irene Dutch

Cat Grant stretched languidly as she lounged against the 
tousled pillows, a sheet wrapped haphazardly around her, 
barely covering her naked breasts.  She watched, contented 
and appreciative, as Brandon neatly fastened his gold cuff 
links.

"You're sure you can't stay longer?" she purred, her voice 
husky with pleasure.

He smiled briefly at her over one shoulder before returning 
his eyes to the mirror.  As she watched, he twitched his 
tie into place.

"No.  I wish I could, but I have a pressing engagement that 
I can't miss."

"Mmmm, I can think of something 'pressing' I'd like to do," 
Cat drawled as she stretched again.  In the mirror, his 
eyes watched her move.  She was pleased that she continued 
to fascinate him even when he was physically sated.

As was she.

Not only was he a fantastic lover, but Brandon was just so 
much fun!  He wasn't just the most playful man she'd ever 
been with, he was also sensitive and sensual, and he cared 
for her.  She knew that.  He cared for her with an honest 
heart, seeing her not just as a prize but as someone to be 
cherished.  And he was someone to be cherished, too.

For the first time in her life, Cat Grant could honestly 
say that she was in love - full-blown, true-blue, head-
over-heels in love.  And it felt good!

She'd never been open to the possibility of love before, 
but her experience with the Nightfall asteroid had clearly 
shown her just what was missing in her life.  It was scary 
being so vulnerable emotionally but after having time come 
so close to literally running out, she couldn't hold 
herself aloof any longer.

Brandon moved to sit down on the edge of the bed.  He 
reached out to cup Cat's cheek in a large, warm hand.  
"I'll call you tomorrow."

She nodded as she pressed her lips against his palm.

"We'll have lunch if that's okay."

She nodded again and accidentally on purpose let the sheet 
slip.

His breath caught.  Bending, he kissed her lips fervently.  
"If I didn't have to go..." he breathed.

"I know," she murmured, sliding her hands up his muscled 
arms.

"I have to, though.  I don't have a choice."  

His gaze was hot on her skin.

"You've been so mysterious about your business.  Will you 
be able to tell me more after your meeting?"  Cat took pity 
on him and gathered the sheet back into place.

With an effort, Brandon looked up to meet her eyes.  "No.  
Not really.  All I can tell you is that it has to do with a 
friend that's getting married.  In an indirect sort of 
way."  He chuckled and kissed her once more and then with a 
visible effort, stood up.  "Oh, by the way," he said, his 
voice light and teasing.  "I have some gossip for you for 
'Cat's Corner.'"

"Oh?"

He smiled down at her.  "I've decided to get married."

"Really?" Cat purred, her heart turning somersaults upon 
hearing his words.  She hadn't realised that he'd been 
thinking as seriously about her as she had about him.  "But 
isn't it customary to ask the lady first?" she said with a 
triumphant laugh.

He turned away and shrugged into his overcoat.  "I have.  
Julia Hawthorne.  She has impeccable breeding.  It's a good 
solid match.  We'll give you the exclusive."

No words came to Cat's lips as she stared up at the 
stranger wearing Brandon's body.

He turned back to her, the same easy smile on his face.  
"See you tomorrow," he said as he dropped a kiss on her 
gaping mouth.   "This was fun!  I can hardly wait to do you 
again."

And he left, with Cat still frozen and staring in shock 
after him.

*****

"All men are scum!"

Lois Lane looked up from her computer and watched in awe as 
Cat Grant stormed into the newsroom.  Sparks were flying 
from the gossip columnist's eyes, and her high heels rapped 
out an angry staccato on the tile floor.

Jimmy and Ralph fled into the stockroom in the face of her 
wrath.

"They're the lowest form of life!" Cat continued as she 
flung her purse onto her desk.  "They should all be drowned 
at birth!  They should all be fixed so they can no longer 
propagate their species!  I don't want to see a man, talk 
to a man, or listen to a man ever again!" 

Eduardo slouched down in his chair.

Lois and Clark exchanged shocked and incredulous glances.

"Um, Cat, are you all right?" Clark asked tentatively.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" Cat snarled.  "Didn't you 
hear me say that I don't want to talk to men any more?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong," Cat asked sarcastically, 
"but you're a man, aren't you, Clark?  At least, you look 
like a man.  So, leave me alone unless you want me to 
change that for you!"  She punched at the on switch on her 
computer and threw herself into her chair.

Clark looked at Lois.  Lois looked at Clark.  Neither one 
of them had any idea what to do.  Clark made a cryptic 
motion with his hands.  Lois grimaced, but Clark motioned 
once more.  She glared at him, angrily, but he just waited 
patiently.  Finally, Lois sighed, slowly pushed herself to 
her feet and walked over to Cat.

"Is there anything I can do?" Lois asked softly.

"No!" Cat exclaimed.  She took a deep breath and repeated 
herself.  "No," she said more calmly.  "Thank you for 
asking, but no."

"Okay," Lois replied.  "I...  Uh...  If you need anything, 
I'll be at my desk working with Clark."

"Lucky you," Cat retorted sarcastically.  "I sure hope he's 
paper trained!"  She turned to her computer, her fingers 
flying over the keys at a fast and furious pace.

Lois sat back down at her desk and regarded her partner 
solemnly.  She held her hands out palms up in a placating 
gesture.  "I tried."

"I know," Clark replied.  "Just promise me something."

"What?"

"Protect me?"

Lois grinned.  "It's a deal.  Now, getting back to this 
murder - what do your notes say about the cause of death?"

"Massive exsanguinations."

"Huh?"

"Blood loss.  A huge blood loss."

"Oh.  Do they have any idea who this guy is, yet?"

"Not yet.  It could be a while seeing as all his teeth were 
pulled and his fingers cut off.  No dental records, no 
fingerprints, and whatever he looked like before, he sure 
doesn't now!"

"Ouch!"  Lois shook her head.  "All I can say is that I 
sure hope he was dead first."

"Me, too, Lois.  Me, too."

The newsroom gradually approached normal over the next few 
minutes although it was obvious that the men were giving 
Cat a wide berth as they moved about.  The employees were 
more nervous than usual, flinching when the elevator dinged 
or a phone rang.  Ralph and Jimmy slunk back to their 
desks.

"Sending you a story, Perry!" Cat yelled as she 
emphatically hit 'send.'

Ritchie jumped and knocked over his mug of pens.  He 
scrabbled on the floor for them as they rolled every which 
way.

Cat made her way to the coffee area and poured herself a 
cup.  She stood at the top of the stairs looking out over 
the newsroom, her eyes like flint.

"What is this?" Perry stormed out of the office waving a 
sheet of paper.  "Cat, we can't print this!"

"Why not?  It's the truth!"  Cat stomped down the stairs to 
confront her boss.  The two of them ended up meeting beside 
Lois's desk.  She and Clark watched with open mouths and 
wide eyes, their heads swivelling to face Perry and Cat in 
turn.

"I don't care if it's the truth or not!  I just can't print 
this.  I've never read anything like it!  Now, write it up 
again and write it properly this time!"  Perry screwed the 
paper into a ball and threw it into Lois's garbage can.

"Fine!  If I have to, I guess I can fake it.  It's not like 
I've never done that before!" Cat retorted bitterly, 
casting a scathing glance at the room.  She cast herself 
back down in her chair and started typing once again.

Lois glanced around surreptitiously.  With the exception of 
Clark, everyone in the room was staring at Cat.  As he 
watched, Lois casually reached down and extracted the paper 
from her garbage can.  Holding it below the level of the 
desk, she smoothed it out.  He quickly pulled his chair a 
little closer and leaned over her shoulder so they could 
read the story together.

"Oh my," Lois muttered under her breath.

"I've never..." Clark shook his head.

"I can't believe..."

Lois looked at Clark.  Clark looked at Lois.  Clark and 
Lois looked back at the paper.

Clark would never have believed it possible, but Lois's 
eyes were even bigger than they'd been earlier.

"Wow!"

"I know," he replied while blushing furiously.

"She, uh, she really has a way with words," Lois said 
valiantly.

"Uh huh.  Interesting vocabulary," Clark replied.  "I, uh, 
am particularly impressed by the part where she said...  
um..."  He pointed.  A fresh wave of colour flooded into 
his face.

"About his...  Yeah.  Very creative.  I've never thought of 
describing ... it that way before."

"I don't think anyone's ever thought of describing it that 
way before!"  Clark grimaced.

"I thought Brandon Chesney was seeing Cat."

"Obviously so did Cat," Clark replied softly.

"Obviously."  Lois shook her head and glanced over at the 
angry gossip columnist.  "I never thought I'd say this, but 
I feel sorry for her."

"So do I."

"Chesney's going to have to watch his back.  Her claws are 
out."

"Hell hath no fury..."

"Exactly."  

"You know anything about this Julia Hawthorne?"

"Not much.  Just that her family has a lot of money and a 
lot of connections.  Poor Cat."  Lois shook her head, 
glanced once more at the angry woman and then turned back 
to Clark.  "So, we better get back to work.  We have a lot 
of stuff here.  I vote that we do a sidebar to the main 
story."

"I don't know, Lois.  We don't have all that much.  And I 
hate to say it, but the man is a John Doe.  We still don't 
know much about him.  A sidebar might make the main story a 
little flimsy.  Maybe we should talk about this."

"No can do, Clark!  If you want to work with me, you have 
to respect my instincts.  Remember what I keep saying -- 
I'm the senior journalist; your job is to follow my lead."

"Don't you think that's starting to wear a little thin?  
We've been working together for months!"

"Hey!  When you have a row of Kerths, we can rethink this.  
Until then, I make the final decision, and I say sidebar.  
So let's get started." 

And for a time, things got back to normal.  Shortly before 
lunchtime, Cat got a phone call, snarled into the receiver, 
and pounded it on her desk for a bit before slamming it 
into its cradle emphatically.  No one felt brave enough to 
ask her about it.  Afterwards, Cat stalked to the vending 
machines, bought a sandwich and defiantly ate it at her 
desk, her white teeth audibly snapping together as she took 
voracious bites.  No one particularly wanted to speculate 
what she could possibly be imagining while she ate so 
ferociously.  She glared around the newsroom, but those who 
were left kept their heads down to avoid eye contact.  Both 
Eduardo and Jimmy who normally brought their lunches to the 
newsroom were conspicuous by their absence.

About two in the afternoon, all noise stopped when Cat 
pushed her chair back from her desk and sprang to her feet.  
Her heels clicked loudly in the sudden silence as she 
headed to Perry's office.

"I'm leaving early," she said, sticking her head in his 
door.  Turning on her heel, she stalked to the elevator, 
punched the down button and waited, fuming, until it 
opened.  She entered, jabbed her finger at the control 
panel, the doors closed, and she was gone, the atmosphere 
lightening by several degrees in her absence.

A buzz of noise started once more as, all at once, everyone 
speculated madly about what could have provoked the gossip 
columnist to such a degree.

"Lois!  Clark!  My office.  Now!" 

The two reporters got to their feet.  Clark started moving 
towards Perry's office, but Lois paused.  She 
surreptitiously slipped Cat's story into her pocket before 
following her partner.  She didn't want any of the others 
to read it.  It would only fuel the gossip that was 
starting to fly fast and furious around the office.

"Yeah, Chief.  You got something for us?" she asked as she 
followed Clark into Perry's office.

"Shut the door.  I want to run something past the two of 
you."  Perry waited patiently until Lois and Clark were 
settled in chairs in front of him.  "I, uh, want to ask you 
something."

"What?"

"Well, you're probably wondering what exactly happened 
earlier when Cat blew up, and I shouldn't tell you, but, oh 
heck, there's a problem ..."  Perry fell silent when Lois 
pulled the crumpled story out of her pocket. 

"You did throw it in my garbage can, Perry," she said, 
shrugging her shoulders. 

He sighed.  "So I did.  I should have known better.  But 
it's saved me from a lot of talking."  Perry shifted in his 
chair.  "Cat's covering the Symphony Benefit tonight, and 
Chesney's going to be there.  He's on their board.  He'll 
probably have this Hawthorne woman at his side.  Do you see 
where this could be a problem?"

"Oh yeah," Lois breathed fervently.

Clark nodded emphatically.

"So anyway, I know I've been working the two of you pretty 
hard, and I know that tonight's the first night you've had 
to yourselves in a while, and I know that probably the last 
thing you two want to do is get all dolled up, but ..."

"But you want us to go to the benefit and keep an eye on 
Cat," Clark finished.

"Well ...  Yeah," Perry agreed.

"Sure.  At least, I'll go," Clark said.  "She definitely 
needs someone to watch out for her!"

"Boy Scout," Lois muttered under her breath.

As one, Perry and Clark turned to her.

"Why do I have to go, too?" she asked defiantly.  "Clark 
already volunteered."

"Because if you don't, Clark here would stick out like a 
sore thumb," Perry answered.  "It's a dance.  The tickets 
are being sold in pairs."

The two men waited silently, their eyes never shifting from 
Lois.

"Oh, all right," she finally said begrudgingly.

"Just remember, Lois.  No funny stuff!"  Clark grinned at 
her.

"So who's going with Cat if Chesney's tied up?" Lois asked, 
totally ignoring her partner.

Perry grimaced.  "Jimmy.  The plan was, she'd talk to the 
celebrities, he'd take their pictures."

"Ouch!" Clark exclaimed.

"Watch out!" Lois shook her head.  "I hope someone warns 
him, and he rents a bullet-proof tux!"

"I'll talk to him," Perry said, wincing.  "I'll let him 
know what's what.  He'll be on his toes."

"He'll have to be!" Lois replied.  "If he's not, you'll be 
looking for a new photographer."

"I guess you'll just have to keep an eye on him, too."  
Perry looked down at his desk and shifted some papers 
around.  "All right.  Back to work.  I need that story.  
Get cracking!"

"Yes, sir."

"On it, Chief.  We'll have it for you in a couple of 
minutes."

"Send Eduardo in on your way out, okay?  I want to check 
what he's got on the latest round of verbal sparring 
between India and Pakistan."  Perry looked down at his 
desk, immersing himself in his paperwork once again.

"Will do, Chief."

*****

"Need an award-winning story?  Ask Lois.  Need a slimy 
politician pinned down?  Ask Lois.  Need corruption at city 
hall uncovered?  Ask Lois.  Need an out-of-control gossip 
columnist sat on?  Don't ask Lois.  Clark, why the heck did 
I let you and Perry talk me into this?  I have better 
things to do than babysit!"  Lois took the ticket from the 
coat-check woman and tucked it into her purse.

"We didn't have to talk that hard, Lois.  You're worried 
about her, too.  Admit it."  Clark handed over his own 
overcoat.

"I'll admit no such thing.  She's a grown woman.  She can 
look after herself.  We're not even friends.  We don't like 
each other!"  She tucked her hand into his arm as they 
headed into the ballroom.

"Come on, admit it.  Somewhere deep down inside, you like 
Cat - at least a little bit.  Otherwise, you wouldn't be 
here no matter what Perry or I said."  Clark grinned at 
her, his eyes twinkling.

In spite of herself, her lips twitched in response.  "All 
right.  I guess it's not entirely out of the realm of 
possibility that somewhere, buried deep inside - so deep 
I'm totally unconscious of it - I might have the teeniest, 
tiniest inkling of liking for Cat.  But you're not to go 
blabbing about it.  I have a reputation to protect."

"Your reputation's safe with me, Lois."

"I've heard that one before!"

The two reporters stood within the grand ballroom, 
surveying the hordes of elegantly dressed people, searching 
for a tall, angry woman with claws out and hackles up.

The room was crowded with Metropolis's richest, most 
connected, most aristocratic, all preening for each other.  

Lois looked a little sour as she regarded the milling 
throng.

"I'm surprised you're not out on a date with Lex," Clark 
said.

"He had other plans," she answered absentmindedly.

Clark's expression brightened at the news.

She glared at him, irked by the pleasure on his face.  "Do 
you have to look so happy to be here?" 

"I am happy," he assured her.  "Great food, good music, 
dancing, a beautiful woman on my arm - what else could a 
man ask for?"

Lois's expression softened.  "Thanks, Clark.  I should have 
told you - you look pretty nice, yourself."

"I clean up okay, then?"

Her eyes travelled across the breadth of his shoulders, and 
up and down the length of him, noting the crisp tailoring 
of his tuxedo and the soft waves of his dark, shiny hair.  
Even his shoes had been polished to a high gloss.

"Tolerable, Clark.  You clean up tolerable."

He laughed.  "Gee, thanks!  Such high praise."

She giggled and patted him on the arm before turning back 
to the throngs of people.  "Any sign of her?"

"Not yet," Clark answered as his eyes scanned the room.  
"But isn't that Chesney over there?"  He discreetly pointed 
to a man standing on the sidelines watching the dancers.  
"That must be Julia Hawthorne beside him."

Lois looked at the good-looking, blonde man for a second 
before moving on to regard his companion.  Well, they were 
certainly a gorgeous couple.  She, too, was blonde and 
elegant and striking.  She looked hard as nails, Lois 
thought.  Cynical, sophisticated and snotty.

The two of them edged nearer but didn't see any sign of 
Cat.  

Clark focused his hearing to hear what Chesney was saying.  

"... a lovely woman!  I'm thrilled for him."

"It's a long flight, but my Brandon is just determined to 
be by his friend's side when he says 'I do' or whatever 
they say in that rather bizarre ceremony!"  Julia gazed 
fatuously at her fianc‚.

"It is bizarre, isn't it?" Brandon asked rhetorically.  "If 
it were anyone other than Bobo, I wouldn't go.  But he's 
not like the rest of those rag-heads.  He's one of the good 
ones.  When we were at UNW, he fit right in." He sniffed 
delicately.  "Except for his complexion, of course.  Can't 
help that he's not white, poor fellow."

"But doesn't he...smell funny?" one of the other women 
asked.

Brandon shook his head.  "No, not at all.  His hygiene is 
impeccable.  Of course, it helped that he avoided curried 
food like the plague.  That's what carries the stink, you 
know."

Clark was aghast listening to this conversation.  He 
guessed that this Bobo, whoever he was, was from India, and 
Clark had the fondest memories of his time there.  The 
people were wonderful.  Yes, it was a poor country, but 
with such a rich history and culture.  Well, cultures, 
really, as there were so many divisions, but even so.  And 
well-prepared Indian food had a succulent aroma; it didn't 
stink!  

He wondered what this blue-blooded snob would think of his 
Kryptonian lineage.  'Superman might look white, but we all 
know that he's not.  He just doesn't fit in.  Too flashy 
equals too trashy."  Clark could hear the words now.

"Hey, there's Jimmy!" Lois exclaimed.

Clark winced.  He had still been focused on Chesney's 
conversation, and Lois's voice had just about pierced his 
eardrum!

She grabbed Clark by the hand and dragged him across the 
room.  Obviously he wasn't moving fast enough for her.  He 
had to laugh.  Trust Lois.  Even Superman wasn't speedy 
enough to suit her.

"Hey guys!  Isn't this fantastic?  I've got some great 
pictures!"  He patted his camera fondly.  "Did you try 
those little stuffed mushrooms yet?  I had a ton of them.  
They were great."

Lois and Clark exchanged a quick glance, sharing their 
amusement at their younger colleague's exuberance.  It was 
infectious, as was his ear-to-ear smile.

"Nah.  We left them all for you.  Eat hearty!" Clark 
clapped him on the back.  "Any idea where we could find 
Cat?"

Jimmy leaned forward a bit to talk directly to them without 
others overhearing.  "Well, you might want to check out the 
bar, but before you do, you better trade that tux in for a 
flak jacket, CK."

"She hasn't calmed down then," Lois said.

"Not hardly!  I was lucky to escape with my life!"  Jimmy 
grinned.  "The only thing that saved me was her catching 
sight of that actor - oh, what's his name? - the one that's 
been married about nine times.  She said a guy with his 
track record must have something totally bent about him, 
and she took off trying to get an interview."

"And did she?"  Clark looked worried. 

"Nah.  His bodyguard took one look at her coming and 
steered his client in the other direction.  That's when I 
saw her heading to the bar."

"That doesn't sound good.  We better go look there.  Try to 
find us if you spot her first, okay?" Lois asked.

"Sure thing, guys."

"I have a really bad feeling about this," Lois muttered 
under her breath as she and Clark continued searching for 
their errant colleague.

"So do I," he answered absentmindedly.

She shot him a startled glance, surprised that he had heard 
her soft comment.

The bar was even more crowded than the ballroom.

"I guess when you arrive by limo, you don't have to worry 
about being the designated driver," Clark said as he 
sidestepped a man who already looked three sheets to the 
wind.

"I guess not," Lois replied as she futilely tried to look 
over various people's heads.  "You're taller.  Any sign of 
her?"

Clark craned his neck and stood on his toes, wishing he 
could float above the horde of people.  "No.  I'm afraid 
not."  As he turned around, he caught sight of Jimmy 
pushing his way towards them.  

"Guys, she's..."

A cacophony of noise from the ballroom drowned him out.

Jimmy grimaced and then with a resigned expression on his 
face continued.  "... back there."  

The three of them pushed and shoved their way back to the 
ballroom only to end up stumbling as they emerged into a 
clear space that surrounded an inebriated, angry gossip 
columnist and her chosen prey - Brandon Chesney with Julia 
Hawthorne at his side.  Their eyes widened as they 
listened.

"Be reasonable, Cat," Chesney said in a soothing tone of 
voice.  "This is not the place to discuss our personal 
affairs."

"This is exactly the place," Cat retorted.  "What better 
place is there than here where all your friends and 
colleagues can find out exactly how scummy you are?"  Her 
cheeks were flushed, her eyes flashing fire.  Cat took a 
step forward, Chesney backing away as she approached.  "Did 
you tell your precious fianc‚e about us?  How does she feel 
knowing that she's been sharing you with another woman?"

Chesney shot a quick glance at Julia Hawthorne before 
turning back to Cat.  "Actually..."

"Actually, Ms. Grant, I feel fine," Julia said, her face an 
expressionless mask.  "Well, except that I have to face the 
fact that my future husband has execrable taste."  She 
turned to Chesney.  "I mean, really, darling, I understand 
that you had urges, but did you really have to sink this 
low?"  She gestured at the stunned gossip columnist.

"Oh no!" Lois exclaimed, moving towards the motionless 
tableau.  "I'll take him..."  

"You take him..."  

"... you take her."

"... I'll take her," Clark finished.

"Did you guys rehearse that?" Jimmy asked as he followed in 
their wake.

With an incoherent shriek, Cat flung herself towards Julia 
Hawthorne.  Chesney pushed his fianc‚e behind him and 
braced for Cat's onslaught.

Clark caught Cat around the waist and half-lifted her off 
the floor.  Her arms were swinging, her legs flailing, but 
somehow, he managed to prevent her blows from landing.

Chesney moved forward towards her, but Lois pushed him 
back.  "I think you've done enough, don't you?" she asked 
sarcastically.  "Why don't you let my partner and me look 
after our friend?"

Chesney took a deep breath, slowly exhaled and nodded.  He 
took Julia's arm and turned to guide her out of the room.

"I do hope that you've made an appointment with your 
doctor, darling," his fianc‚e purred.  "You never know - 
you might need a prescription for penicillin.  Who knows 
what vile germs you might have been exposed to?"  She 
glanced back over her shoulder at Cat and shuddered.

"I'll kill you for that!" Cat screamed.  "I'll kill both of 
you!"  She fought so hard to get free that even with his 
enhanced strength, Clark was hard-put to hold on.  He 
didn't want to hurt her.  He finally shifted her around so 
that she was scooped into his arms and pinned against his 
chest.

Carrying Cat, Clark made slow progress out of the ballroom, 
even with Lois and Jimmy pushing people out of his way.

By the time the four of them had arrived at Lois's Jeep in 
the parking lot, Cat had stopped fighting.  Instead, she 
lounged in Clark's grasp, staring straight ahead with her 
arms folded defiantly across her chest.

"If I put you down, can I trust you?" Clark asked.  

Cat tilted her chin up even more, her eyes not meeting his.

He gave her a little shake.  "Can I trust you?"

She remained silent for a long moment before taking a deep 
breath.  "Fine," she muttered.  "I'll behave."

"Good.  Where's your car?" Clark asked as he gently placed 
Cat on her feet.

Cat didn't answer, instead making a general gesture to the 
left.

"Lois, why don't you drive Jimmy home?" Clark suggested.  
"I'll look after Cat."

Lois eyed the gossip columnist warily.  "Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, we'll be fine."  But he maintained a tight grip on 
her upper arm, all the same.  The two of them watched Lois 
and Jimmy drive away before he turned to her once more, his 
hand turned palm-up.  "Keys, please."

Cat muttered angrily under her breath as she rummaged in 
her purse.  After overhearing her calling him a 
'controlling, overbearing, patronizing Boy Scout,' he made 
a point of tuning her out.  She plunked her keys angrily in 
his hand and followed reluctantly as he led her to her car.

She didn't say anything on the ride home, instead looking 
steadily out the front windshield.  A couple of times, 
Clark tried to get her to open up, but she remained 
steadfastly silent.  

It only took a few minutes for Clark to pull up in front of 
Cat's apartment building.  "Are you sure you don't want to 
talk?" he asked as he opened the passenger door for her.

"Thank you.  No," she answered, her words clipped short.

Silently, he escorted her inside and accompanied her onto 
the elevator.  They got off at her floor, Clark unlocked 
her door for her, and then handed her keys back.  She slid 
them into her purse and started to close the door behind 
her.

"Cat, please?" Clark said.

She paused.

"I just want to know if you're going to be okay."

She glanced back at him, her eyes flat and lifeless.  "I'll 
be fine."

"You're sure?"

She nodded and closed the door in his face.

She'd looked so defeated.  Not only that, but her behaviour 
had been lacking all those flirtatious glances and sly 
innuendoes that were so much a part of her personality.  
Clark wasn't convinced that she would be fine, but he 
couldn't exactly force himself into her apartment when she 
patently didn't want him there.  Instead, he turned and 
walked back to the elevator.  By the time he reached the 
street, he had already decided that he'd make a point of 
checking on Cat when he flew his patrol later.

*****

Cat stood alone on her balcony.  

After Clark had walked her to her door, she had gone 
straight into the shower.  She had scrubbed all her makeup 
off and washed all the hair spray out.  It had sobered her.

She had brushed her hair and pulled it back into a stark, 
limp ponytail, all the while careful not to look in the 
mirror.  She didn't want to look herself in the eyes.  
She'd been afraid of what she might see.  Then, eschewing 
all the exotic, exciting choices in her wardrobe, she had 
reached to the farthest corner of her closet to unearth an 
old, well-worn flannel nightgown.  

It was soft and warm.  She hugged it to her body, but it 
brought no comfort.  And it was no protection from the cold 
wind on her balcony.  Nothing was.  There was nothing to 
protect her.  She had been foolish to think that there ever 
could be.  She should have known better.  She had to look 
after herself.  No one else would.

It would be so easy, she thought, looking down at the dark 
street below.  Cars whizzed by, their taillights gleaming 
like jewels, sparks in a starry night.  It was beautiful, 
she thought, beckoning.  Welcoming.

Cat took a step closer and yet another, and slowly, 
carefully, clambered up to stand atop the rough cement 
wall.  All it would take was one step more...  One step 
over the metal railing, and it would all be over.

She couldn't do it.

With a rush, she scrambled down from her precarious perch.  
She bit at her fist as hot tears overflowed and scalded her 
cheeks.  She was a coward.  It would have been so easy...  
It would have been the right thing to do, to be rid of this 
pain once and for all.  It would have been the courageous 
thing to do.

She'd made a mess of everything, and she'd made a mess of 
this, too.

And now, the tears came in earnest, the fist still blocking 
her mouth as if to block the guttural cries from emerging.  
She stumbled back and, more by instinct than anything else, 
found herself huddled in the corner.  Her sobs were ugly 
and rasping, her breath coming in great, glottal gasps.  
Her head dropped to her knees, her arms rising up to 
encircle it as she curled into a tight, aching ball.

"Ms. Grant."

A loud noise would not have had the impact of that soft 
voice.  She sat up with a start.

He stood, a dark figure silhouetted by the pale haze of the 
city lights, his cape fluttering in the light breeze.

"Superman."  Her voice quavered and broke to her chagrin.  
"What are you doing here?"

He took a step forward into the light that spilled from her 
open balcony door.  "I was flying by and saw you..."  He 
paused, one hand outstretched.  "Are you all right?"

Cat shoved the rampant hysteria to a place deep inside.  
"I'm fine," she prevaricated.  "Or at least, I will be."

"Will you?" he asked.  "It would be natural for you to be 
devastated."  At her look of surprise, he explained.  "I 
heard about it.  Clark told me."

Cat looked away, feeling ashamed and small.  A wave of 
anger rose against Clark.  She was the gossip, not him.  
How could he have told Superman about her?  It wasn't fair.  
It wasn't right.

"He was worried about you," Superman continued.  "You 
wouldn't let him stay so he asked me to check on you."

Her anger at Clark was gone in a flash, as if it had never 
existed.  "He was?  He did?"  She sounded surprised, even 
to her own ears.

"Yes."  He was firm.  "You're his friend.  He cares about 
you."

"My friend," she repeated in wonder.  "I didn't know.  I 
don't have many friends."

A gentle smile crossed his face.  "You have more friends 
than you think.  Do you really think that covering a 
benefit is the type of story Lois Lane would do?  And 
Jimmy.  I think he's been worried about you, too."

"Really?"

Superman nodded.  "From what Clark told me, even though 
they were happy to go, it wasn't his idea or Lois's to go 
to the benefit to keep an eye on you, it was Mr. White's."

"I didn't know."  For a second, Cat couldn't even see 
Superman as he stood before her.  Instead, with her mind's 
eye, she pictured Clark, Lois, Jimmy and Perry in turn.  
Her friends.  She hadn't realised they felt that way about 
her.  Suddenly she didn't feel so cold anymore.

"So, since lots of people care about you, what do you say 
we get you inside where it's bright and warm before you get 
sick?"  Superman tugged her to her feet and gently led her 
through the open balcony door.

When the warm air of her apartment hit her, she became 
conscious of how chilled she really was.  She shivered.  

Superman was quick to close the door.  "Hold still," he 
said before his eyes swept from her toes to her chin.  A 
wave of warmth followed his gaze.  "Heat vision," he told 
her in response to her unspoken question.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome.  Now, to keep you warm..."  Superman 
looked around the apartment.  "There it is.  I'll be right 
back."  He strode into her bedroom and was back a second 
later to drape her fuzzy chenille robe over her shoulders.  
"I think a cup of tea might be in order, too."  And he 
headed into her kitchen.

She fingered the robe that he'd found so quickly.  Right.  
X-ray vision.  She drifted after him and watched, as in a 
blur, he moved about, unerringly unearthing her mugs, her 
tea and her sugar.  "Why are you doing this?"

"You've had quite a shock to your system tonight.  Strong, 
hot, sweet tea will make you feel a lot better."

"No!  I mean, why are you doing this for me?  You must have 
better things to do...  There must be others who need you 
more than I do.  Why are you doing this for me?"

Superman stopped dead, putting all the tea paraphernalia 
down on the counter.  He strode over to her and firmly 
grasped her shoulders.  Looking her straight in the eye, he 
said, "I'm your friend, too, Ms. Grant.  I'm in your 
corner."

These tears were cleansing.  

Cat found herself cuddled like a little girl in a secure 
embrace.  Her head dropped to his shoulder as she gave 
herself up to her emotions.  His words had been so simple, 
but so powerful.  It was too much to know that others 
cared.  It was too devastating.  There was no reason for 
anyone to care for her.

He rocked her and crooned in her ear, but her tears didn't 
stop until she noticed with a half-swallowed laugh that his 
spandex uniform did nothing to sop them up.  They shimmered 
on the shiny fabric like jewels.  "Sorry," she said as she 
brushed the moisture from his suit.

"Just part of the service," he told her as he used the edge 
of his cape to wipe her eyes.

Her nose was running causing her to sniffle.  He eyed her 
wryly and then his cape and with a 'Be right back' 
disappeared yet again.  She couldn't help but smile when he 
returned with tissues.  

"Much more appropriate," she said after heartily blowing 
her nose.

He smiled.  "Well, we might be friends, but there are 
limits!"

She chuckled.

"So, what about that tea?"

"All right," Cat answered shyly.  

He smiled once more, cupped her cheeks in his large hands 
and ran his thumbs under her eyes wiping away the last of 
the moisture.  And then he turned into a blur once again.  

It was only a few seconds later when he presented her with 
a steaming mug.  He had a second mug in his other hand.

"You don't have to stay," she was quick to say.

"I want to."

"But you must have other things to do."

He cocked his head to one side, listening.  "No, nothing's 
going on that I need to concern myself with.  I'll stay as 
long as you want, if that's okay, Ms. Grant."

"Oh, yes, I...  That's great.  Please call me Cat.  Um.  
Would you like to sit down?" she asked, trying to act 
normal.

"That would be nice, Cat."

She sat down on the overstuffed couch, and he sat down 
opposite her in an easy chair. 

They sipped their tea in silence.  Cat didn't know what to 
say or where to look.  She was a master when it came to 
certain types of man/woman scenarios.  This one, however, 
left her feeling at a loss.

Superman leaned forward to eye her intently.  "I am very 
sorry that you were treated so poorly.  You didn't deserve 
that."

"Thank you," she whispered.  "I guess I was too na‹ve...  I 
was too trusting..."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but this man meant a lot to you, 
didn't he?"

She nodded.  It took her a moment to marshal her thoughts, 
but then she started to speak.  "The Nightfall asteroid was 
hard on you, I know."  She glanced quickly at the colourful 
superhero before dropping her eyes once more.  "But it had 
a profound effect on me, too.  It made me think about 
what's been missing from my life..."

She explained to Superman how she'd felt alone, and how 
she'd felt that she had wasted a good portion of her life 
chasing physical intimacy while keeping herself closed off 
from emotional intimacy.  It was humbling, unburdening 
herself to him, but she didn't whitewash her actions.  The 
truth of the matter was that she was ashamed at having 
reduced herself, at having denied herself a full spectrum 
of emotion.  In her former life, the life she'd recanted, a 
physical expression of love had had all the emotional 
importance of a slap and tickle session.

"...and then when Brandon came along, well, I must have 
been especially vulnerable because I fell head-over-heels 
in love with him.  But all he wanted was a tawdry affair.  
I was so stupid...  I should have waited...  But, no.  I 
wanted to rush into being in love, the same way I always 
rushed into an affair.  So in a way, this mess is my 
fault."

"You're being too hard on yourself.  Don't forget.  This is 
all new to you."  He paused and studied her intently.  "Why 
did you keep your emotions locked up?  Why didn't you ever 
let yourself fall in love?"

She looked down at her linked hands.  "I had a rough 
childhood...  My dad left when I was six.  There was just 
my mom and me.  We were poor - unbelievably poor.  Many 
times I remember my mother making us ketchup soup because 
there was literally nothing else for us to eat.  I was 
always hungry, always dressed in rags, always dirty.  I 
didn't want that.  I didn't want to be like her.  She'd 
been dependent on my dad for money and when he left, she 
couldn't cope.  

"I always vowed I'd stand on my own two feet and fend for 
myself, and that I was never, ever going to trust a man to 
look after me.  But then, when we all thought the world was 
going to end, everything changed for me.  I can't even 
begin to explain what it felt like to realise that, yes, I 
had money and things, but that they meant nothing because I 
had no one to share them with.  It was the worst moment of 
my life."

Superman leaned forward and laid his hand gently over hers.  
"I'm sorry.  I didn't know."

"Well, it's not really the kind of thing I share.  I mean, 
what am I going to say?  'Hey there, I'm Cat Grant, and I'm 
a needy, selfish, materialistic woman.  I'm only out for 
myself, so what can you do for me?'"

"You're too hard on yourself."

She shook her head.  "I don't think so."

"Well, I do.  When I look at you, I see a bright, 
attractive, strong woman who's made her own way in the 
world."

"You don't look down on me because of my past?"

"It's not up to me to judge you, Cat.  Actually, you're 
doing a pretty good job of judging yourself, I think."

"Yeah, I guess."  She paused.  "Did you really mean it?  
When you called me attractive?"

Superman smiled.  "Yes."

She thought about that for a moment.  "Am I the kind of 
woman that someone like you could go for?"  She hastily 
added, "I'm not making a pass.  Don't worry.  I just want 
to know."  Cat held her breath waiting for his answer.

He chuckled.  "I'm not worried about a pass.  I think I 
could defend myself.  And yes, I like strong, intelligent 
women.  But it doesn't matter what I like.  I can't allow 
myself to be interested in anyone.  It wouldn't be fair."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it," Superman said.  "A woman in my life would 
be vulnerable.  Criminals would come out of the woodwork to 
target her.  Not only that, can you imagine what the press 
would do?  In fact, imagine what you would write if I 
started seeing someone.  I mean, think about it.  For 
example, what would people say if they knew that I was 
here?  And this is totally innocent.  Imagine if it 
weren't.  Imagine if I really did have romantic feelings 
for someone."

"I see what you mean."  Should she ask? she wondered.  Why 
not? she decided.  He was being so open and honest.  "Is 
that why you don't pursue Lois?"

"What?"  He sounded shocked.  

"Let's face it," Cat said.  "You have feelings for her.  
It's obvious."

"I don't know about obvious..."

"It is - at least it is to me.  Your expression changes.  
Heck, your whole body language changes when you're around 
her."  She took pity, seeing the panicked look on his face.  
"Superman, remember.  This is what I do in life.  This is 
my career.  I don't think it would be that obvious to 
anyone else.  Don't worry.  I won't tell anyone.  I won't 
even tell Lois."

"I...  I didn't know."  Superman shook his head.  "I'll 
have to be more careful."

"You have a couple of rivals, you know.  Lex Luthor is 
after her."

Superman grimaced.  Obviously not a Luthor fan.  Neither 
was she, actually.  Granted, the man was attractive, but at 
the same time, there was something about him... Something a 
little off.

"I think Clark's crazy about her, too."

"Clark?  I don't think..."

"He watches her all the time.  He has this way of looking 
at her..."  Cat paused.  "Maybe he knows how you feel about 
her and never mentioned it.  He is a good friend of yours.  
That could be why he's never asked her out.  Maybe he 
thought you'd be upset."

A stunned expression on his face, Superman didn't say 
anything.

"You know," Cat said thoughtfully.  "If being with you is 
dangerous because of who you are, you could think about 
disguising yourself."

"What?"  He sat up straight.

"This is probably a dumb idea," she said slowly, "but it's 
being with the superhero that's dangerous.  If you were an 
ordinary guy, there'd be no problem.  Okay, yes, you'll 
never be ordinary, but that doesn't mean you can't pretend 
to be ordinary."

"I don't think that's a good..."

"It could work!" Cat exclaimed.  "Maybe a wig - no, that 
could get dislodged really easily.  Or you could grow your 
hair - wear it loose as Superman and tied back in disguise.  
But it would take too long for your hair to grow so that 
wouldn't work.  A fake beard!  No, same problem as the 
wig."  She thought hard for a second more.  "I know!  You 
could wear glasses." 

Cat narrowed her eyes as she tried to picture him in 
regular clothes and glasses.  

He shifted, his hands fiddling with his cape.

Hmmm, she thought.  If he had glasses on and rumpled his 
hair and wore regular clothes, he'd look a bit like...  
Nah.  Imagine Superman acting like a regular guy!  It just 
couldn't happen.  "Actually, I don't think it would work."

"You don't?"  He sounded hopeful.

"No.  I don't see how you could possibly keep the two 
identities straight.  It would be too easy to make 
mistakes.  Besides, you're a superhero.  You'd have to be 
crazy to want to be a regular guy with regular problems!  
You don't look crazy to me."

He smiled.  "Thanks."

She grinned.  "You're welcome.  Hey, do you think I'm 
starting to get the hang of this friendship thing?"

He laughed heartily.  Almost as if he were relieved.  
"Definitely!"

He had a nice laugh; it sounded... familiar.

As they continued to talk, this crazy idea kept flitting in 
and out of her head, but she kept it to herself.  First of 
all, it was a nutty idea, the nuttiest.  And second, if it 
was true, she didn't really want to know, not for sure.  
She had a feeling that some things really were better left 
unknown.

*****

Brandon Chesney's eyes darted nervously back and forth in 
the deserted underground garage.  With the exception of his 
car, it was completely empty.  

He cleared his throat and heard the slight sound echo 
hollowly in the big open space.  

His heart skipped a beat when he heard something behind 
him. He whirled around in time to see a rat scurry along 
the edge of the wall, its shadow wavering eerily as it 
scuttled along.

Silently, he chastised himself for his fears.  Everything 
was going to be okay.  Everything was going to be just 
fine.   When Luthor got here, he'd get his money, and it 
would all be over.  He'd be home in half an hour.  An hour, 
tops!

All that money!  What was he going to do with all that 
money?

He hadn't asked for much - didn't want to appear greedy 
after all.  And if he decided that it hadn't been enough, 
well, he could always ask for more.  Let's face it.  His 
demands must seem quite modest to the third richest man in 
Metropolis.  Five hundred thousand dollars wouldn't even 
make a dent in Luthor's coffers.

And what Chesney knew was really worth oh-so-much more!

If it hadn't been for that cack-handed, clumsy, klutzy oaf 
of a fellow....

To think that he had been furious when he'd been told what 
happened.  To think that he'd been angry to learn that his 
wedding present for Bobo had been dropped on the loading 
dock.  When he'd been told, he'd been so incensed that he'd 
stormed down to the Lex-Mail office to confront the idiotic 
employee in person.

But what they'd found when they'd opened the box to check 
the damage...  That had made everything worthwhile.

Chesney grinned happily as he remembered.  He'd reached 
into the open box and pulled out one of the smashed machine 
components that had been packed around the broken statue.  
Neither he nor the clerk had known what it was, so he'd 
reached in again, and this time... this time, he'd struck 
gold.

His fingers had touched paper.  When he'd pulled it out, 
he'd stared incredulously at it for a long moment. 

It had been an instruction book - assembly instructions for 
a neutron bomb.  And the jackpot - the crowning glory - had 
been the scrawled note across the cover, thanking Bobo for 
his business and signed Lex Luthor!

It had been Luthor's bad luck that it had been found, but 
his own good luck!  

Brandon didn't know much about the United States military, 
but he knew enough to realise that this was an illegal arms 
shipment to a foreign nation.  Not that he cared about the 
ethics of the situation.  He had a suspicion what Bobo was 
going to do with the weapon, and that didn't bother him 
either.  Good riddance to bad rubbish.  No, what mattered 
was that Luthor was going to have to pay.

Chesney heard a muffled scrape on the chipped cement.  He 
craned his head to see a shadowy figure approaching him. 

"Good evening, Mr. Luthor," he said, politely.  No point in 
rubbing Luthor's nose in his misfortune by sounding too 
cheerful!

"Mr. Luthor couldn't make it, I'm afraid," a sultry voice 
purred.  "He sent me instead.  I do hope that's all right."  

The woman came into view.  She was stunning.  Dark-skinned, 
dark-haired, exotic.  Beautiful, he thought.  Gorgeous 
legs.  Couldn't tell about the rest of the figure as she 
had on a trench coat, her hands tucked into the pockets.  
But if she worked for Luthor, he bet the rest of her was 
just as stunning.

"Of course," he answered gallantly.  "Did Mr. Luthor send 
my payment?"

"Oh, yes," she answered, her voice amused and a knowing 
smile on her face.

"Ah, good."  Chesney rubbed his hands together briskly.

"Before I pay you, I wished to ask if you've read tonight's 
paper."

"Yes."  He was puzzled by the question.

"Did you read about the murdered John Doe?"

"Yes.  Why do you ask?"

She pulled her left hand out of her pocket and casually 
inspected her nails.  "You've met him."

Chesney shook his head, not understanding.  "I have?"

"Yes."  She smiled, showing her teeth.  "He worked for Lex-
Mail.  He handled your package.  He failed Mr. Luthor."

"How do you know?  How do you know that was him?"

Her smile got even broader.  "I know because I killed him, 
Mr. Chesney.  Just like I'm going to kill you."  Her right 
hand came out of her pocket holding something sharp and 
pointed that gleamed in the dull light of the parking 
garage.  The empty, deserted, isolated parking garage.

*****

Superman left Cat's apartment at four in the morning, after 
having stayed with her for almost five hours.  They had 
talked about everything under the sun.  It had been the 
most wonderful night of her life.  Unbelievable, especially 
since no hanky panky had been involved!  Who'd believe it 
of Cat Grant?  Heck!  Who'd believe it of Superman?

Holding the balcony door open with one hand, he paused and 
turned back to Cat.  "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I am now.  Thank you for being there for me.  I don't even 
have the words to tell you what it's meant."

"Like I said before, I'm your friend."  He grinned broadly, 
kissed her lightly on the forehead and disappeared in a 
blur.

He looked different when he grinned.  Not so stern.  Not so 
bland.  She stayed at the door for a long time, thinking 
about the evening, thinking about how kind he had been.  He 
was a gentle man, a sensitive man, much like another man 
she knew...  Another man she knew...  But Superman could 
fly.  He had heat vision and super-strength and super-speed 
and... "Cat Grant, that has to be the craziest idea you've 
ever had in your entire life!" she muttered before heading 
off to bed.
 
As she drifted off to sleep, she promised herself that if 
Superman ever needed a friend, she'd be there for him.

*****

"Listen up, everyone!"

All eyes snapped to the tall, leggy, gossip columnist who 
stood by the elevator.

"You guys better pay attention because you'll never hear me 
do this again, but...  I have to apologise for my behaviour 
yesterday.  I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.  I was 
out of line, and it won't happen again."

The other workers shuffled their feet and glanced at each 
other.

Cat smiled.  "I brought doughnuts!"  She held up a couple 
of large boxes before placing them in the coffee area.

Clark watched as people started to approach Cat and thank 
her.  He never would have thought that she'd have it in her 
to come to the office and hold her head up high.  After 
last night's fiasco at the benefit, rumours were flying 
fast and furious.  He had overheard a myriad of 
conversations pertaining to her now public personal life.  
But here she was, looking flamboyant and happy and as 
exotic as ever, although he did have to admit that her 
current outfit was not as revealing as some.  She had 
surprised him yet again.

He still couldn't get over the change in her that he'd seen 
the previous night.  She had revealed an emotional depth 
that he would have never believed existed.  Her honesty had 
been staggering.

Perhaps he had stayed too long, but he had at first been 
extremely worried about her emotional stability.  Then, 
after they had started to talk, he had been intrigued by 
the strength of her personality.  She kept a lot of herself 
well hidden.  He had been pleasantly surprised by how 
bright in actuality Cat really was.  If only she didn't 
dress like a Frederick's of Hollywood ad!

She had scared him pretty good when she'd suggested that he 
disguise himself.  For a moment, he'd really thought that 
she had guessed his secret.  Thank goodness, she'd backed 
away from that idea!  He didn't know what he would have 
done if she had figured everything out.  

Ever since he'd adopted the Superman persona, he'd had to 
bend the truth.  When he had to rescue someone, he'd had to 
'return a video' or 'talk to a source' but at least he'd 
never had to out-and-out lie.  Well, when he thought about 
it, his excuses really were lies, but all the same, denying 
who he really was would have felt different.  He knew that.

It would be nice, though, to have someone that he didn't 
have to lie to.  Oh, not Cat.  It was true that she had 
impressed him.  It was true that he had liked her more last 
night than ever before.  But all the same, she wasn't the 
woman he wanted to share his life with.  She wasn't the 
woman who made his heart beat faster and his head swim all 
at the same time.  She wasn't Lois.

Clark was crazy about Lois, and Lois was crazy about 
Superman.  Sometimes life wasn't fair.  It also wasn't fair 
that Lex Luthor had taken her out a couple of times.  Clark 
wanted to be the man with Lois Lane on his arm, but he 
didn't know how to convince her to give him a chance 
instead of Lex.

Lois was too good for either of them, but at least Clark 
was closer to her level than Luthor was.  The man was a 
snake!  And how she didn't see it was beyond him.  

A stray thought entered Clark's mind, making him hide a 
smirk.  It was a good thing that Lois didn't know about 
Superman's long visit with Cat.  If she'd known, she would 
have hit the roof.  She considered Superman to be her 
personal possession, and for another woman to encroach on 
her territory...  No way would she have ever believed that 
it had been purely platonic.

Clark wished that he could spend more time with Lois 
outside work.  It really had been nice talking to Cat, but 
to talk to Lois that way?  It would have been a dream come 
true.  Again, getting back to the dichotomy that was his 
life, as Clark, she didn't want to spend any time with him, 
and as Superman, he couldn't take the chance of spending 
that kind of time with her.  It would be too dangerous.  
She'd have him figured out and finger-wrapped in no time!

But oh!  What a way to go!

*****

"Are you feeling better?" Lois asked brusquely as Cat 
approached the desk where she and Clark were working.  She 
stood up to face her.

Cat smiled.  "Yes, I am.  Thank you.  Last night I did a 
lot of thinking, and I sorted some things out in my head."

"I'm glad," Lois said, shocked that she actually meant it.  
She had never exactly been fond of Cat, but her behaviour 
yesterday had worried her a great deal - not that she'd 
tell Cat that!

"Clark, I wanted to thank you.  You were just great."  

Other than the fact that her skirt was quite short, Cat was 
dressed fairly conservatively.  No cleavage, no midriff 
cut-outs, no big jewellery.  Even so, she looked more like 
herself.  Obviously some of her confidence was back.

"I wanted to thank you, too, Lois," Cat said earnestly.  "I 
didn't make it easy for you, but you really helped me a 
lot."

"You're welcome.  You would have done the same for me if I 
was that upset."

"Actually..."  Cat's eyes dipped down shyly, before she 
looked back at Lois.  "I would.  I really would do the same 
for you any time you need me to."

"Thanks."  Lois's voice softened.  

The two women stared at each other for a long moment.

"Anyway, I should get back to work.  I'm sure you have 
things to do, too," Cat said before walking away from 
Lois's desk.

"Cat?"

She paused and looked back at Lois.

"I can't believe I'm asking you this, but...  Would you 
like to have lunch with me today?  If I don't get caught up 
in a story, that is?"

A big, broad, happy smile spread slowly across Cat's face.  
"I'd love to," she said softly.

"Great."

"Good."

"Okay, talk to you later."  Cat made her way to her own 
desk.

"Feelings... whoa, whoa, whoa, feelings... whoa, whoa, 
whoa, feelings... from the bottom of my heart..." crooned a 
male voice to Lois.

"Stuff it, Kent!  I'm not amused.  Plus your singing hurts 
my ears.  You croak like a bullfrog!"  She playfully shoved 
his arm.

"Now I'm hurt, Lois!  Devastated.  How am I ever going to 
trust you again since you've insulted my fine singing 
voice?"  Clark gazed at her, a woebegone expression on his 
face and his hands clasped over his heart.

"Fine singing voice?" she retorted.  "More like chalk on a 
blackboard.  Next time you feel like breaking out in song, 
warn me.  I'll buy earplugs!"

He laughed, she giggled, and they got back to work.

About an hour later, two men got off the elevator.  They 
caught Lois and Clark's attention right away by their 
serious, official demeanour.  

The two men walked down the ramp into the middle of the 
newsroom, all the while carefully studying their 
surroundings.  As Lois and Clark watched, the men 
approached Cat's desk.

"Ms. Grant?"

"Yes?"  Cat looked up at them.

One of the men held up a shield.  "Detective Rizzo.  
Metropolis PD.  I need you to come to the station house to 
answer some questions."

Lois didn't know how he did it, but whenever anything out 
of the ordinary happened in the newsroom, Perry was right 
there in the thick of it.  It was almost as if he had a 
sixth sense.  He emerged from his office and headed over to 
Cat's desk to join the group.

"What's going on here?" Perry asked.

The other man stepped in front of the editor, blocking his 
access to Cat.  "I'm sorry, sir, but it's none of your 
concern."

"It most certainly is my concern.  Ms. Grant is my 
employee, and this is my newsroom!"  Perry pushed past the 
other man to face Detective Rizzo.

Lois and Clark got up and drifted over to join the knot of 
people.  Other employees did the same.

"If you just told me what's going on..." Cat started to 
say.

"Back off!" Detective Rizzo told Perry, pointing an index 
finger at him.  "This is official police business, and 
nothing to do with the Daily Planet.  We just have a few 
questions..."

"Go ahead and ask them!" Cat exclaimed, pushing her way 
between Perry and Rizzo as they faced off.  "I have nothing 
to hide."

"Are you sure, honey?  I can get the Planet lawyer here in 
a few minutes.  Maybe we should wait."  Perry White moved 
to her side.

"No, this is fine, Perry.  I'm fine.  Go ahead," she said 
to the two men.

Rizzo and the other man glanced at each other, before Rizzo 
turned back to the columnist.  "Where were you between 1 
and 3 a.m. this morning?"

"I was at home," Cat answered, her eyes shifting from one 
man to the other.  "Why?"

"Was there anyone with you who could vouch for your 
whereabouts?"

Lois felt Clark tense beside her.

"Yes..."  She glanced quickly at Lois - or was it at Clark? 
- with a strange look on her face.  "Well, actually, no.  I 
can't say."

"What's that supposed to mean?  Either someone was with 
you, or you were alone.  Were you alone?"

"No."

"So, who was with you?  We'll need to speak to that person 
to get their statement."

Cat crossed her arms and gazed straight ahead, a stubborn 
look on her face.  "I can't say."

"Was it a man?"

Cat didn't answer.

"A woman?"

Again, she didn't answer.

"You leave me no choice!" Rizzo exclaimed.  "Catharine 
Grant, you're under arrest for the murder of Brandon 
Chesney."

"What?" Perry exclaimed.

Cat's jaw dropped.  "Brandon?  What?  How?"

"No!" Clark exclaimed from his position beside Lois.  
"There's no way...  Cat's not a murderer."

Rizzo turned to face Clark.  "She was heard threatening him 
at a benefit last night."

"But she didn't do it.  No way!"  He glanced quickly at his 
watch.  "Um, I have to go.  I have an appointment.  Lois 
will tell you."  He turned to his partner.  "Tell him, 
Lois.  Tell him that you know Cat didn't do it."

Clark dashed for the stairs.

"I...  I..."

Cat's eyes pleaded with Lois.

"I...  This is ridiculous.  Cat couldn't kill anyone.  I 
mean, yes, she was upset, but it was completely 
understandable.  The guy was scum.  He deserved to suffer."  
Lois suddenly realised what she was saying.  "But not to 
die.  Oh no.  He didn't deserve to die.  That's too 
drastic.  But suffering would have been good.  Cat probably 
felt the same way.  There's no way she could have killed 
him without making him suffer first.  So you see, she 
didn't kill him."

"Gee, thanks, Lois.  Want to strap me in the electric 
chair, too?" Cat drawled.

"I'm sorry!  I'm nervous," Lois blurted out.  She could 
feel her cheeks heating as she blushed.

"Nice theory, lady.  But I never said that the guy didn't 
suffer."  Rizzo turned back to Cat.  "You have the right to 
remain silent.  If you give up that right, anything you 
say..."

Superman swooped through the window and landed with a thud 
in front of everyone.

"Superman!" Lois exclaimed, taking a half step forward to 
gaze at him adoringly.

"Hi, Lois," he said, off-handed, all his attention focused 
on Cat and the police officer.  "What's going on?"

"Nothing.  Not a thing," Cat said, her words clipped, her 
tone nonchalant.  "Why do you ask?"

Superman smiled gently.  "Officer?"

"Superman, I've placed Ms. Grant under arrest for the 
murder of Brandon Chesney."

"When did this happen?" he asked.

Lois sidled a little closer to her hero, but Superman 
didn't seem to notice her.  She sighed.

"We've narrowed it down to a couple of hours.  Between 1 
and 3 this morning."

"Cat didn't do it," Superman said adamantly.

"How do you know, Superman?" Rizzo asked.

"Superman..."  Cat made a face at him, wiggling her 
eyebrows and grimacing.

He ignored her.  "Because she was with me.  We were 
together from about 11 to 4, give or take a few minutes."

"What?" the officer exclaimed.

"Judas Priest!"  Perry sat down suddenly on Cat's chair.

"Way to go, Superman!" Jimmy exclaimed.

Lois felt all the breath whoosh out of her body.  She felt 
dizzy.  Had she just heard him say what she thought she'd 
heard him say?  Superman and Cat?  No way!

But then she heard Cat protest, and she had to believe.

"Why'd you say anything?  I would have gone to the station 
house and got this worked out, and no one would have known 
about last night."

"I have nothing to be ashamed of, Cat," Superman said.  "We 
have nothing to be ashamed of."

Lois had heard enough.  She turned on her heel, stumbled 
back to her desk and threw herself onto her chair. 

Superman was having an affair with Cat Grant.  Life as she 
knew it was over.

*****

Clark, still in his Superman persona, glanced 
surreptitiously at Lois through the half-open blinds of the 
conference room.  She looked upset.  Actually, she looked 
beyond upset.  She looked furious.  He winced as he heard 
her snarl at Jimmy.  

It was obvious what she was thinking.  She had drawn her 
own conclusions as to what had happened last night at Cat's 
apartment.  He had to admit, it was the obvious conclusion.  
But it just wasn't true.

He sighed.  He'd have to try and explain everything to her 
later.  But for right now, he had to make sure that Cat was 
completely exonerated, and that the police had no lingering 
doubts.  

With an effort, Clark dragged his eyes away from Lois and 
focused his attention back on Detective Rizzo who, with the 
unnamed other man, sat across the table from Perry, Cat and 
Superman.

"So he didn't tell you who he had a meeting with the night 
before last?"  Rizzo sipped his coffee.

"No.  But I know he had some kind of deal he was excited 
about.  I just don't know what kind of deal it was."  Cat's 
eyes filled with tears.  "I was so angry with him...  I was 
so completely devastated by how he behaved...  But I never 
wanted him to die." 
Perry patted her on the shoulder.  Clark gently squeezed 
her other arm.  She dabbed at her eyes and managed a watery 
smile of gratitude.

Detective Rizzo's companion finally spoke.  "Ms. Grant, I'm 
going to ask you to think really hard.  Is there anything, 
anything at all, that he said about this deal?"

Cat gazed off into space, concentrating hard.  "He said 
that it had to do with a friend who was getting married," 
she said slowly.  "Except that it was indirect.  I haven't 
a clue what that means."

The two men exchanged a cryptic glance.

Clark's eyes narrowed as he watched them.  He suddenly 
realised that they'd only been told one of the men's names.  
"You never did say who you are," he said to the 
unidentified man.

Detective Rizzo and the stranger exchanged another glance.

"Frank Conroy, at your service, Superman."

"You're with the Metropolis PD also?"

Conroy slowly shook his head.  "No.  I'm NIA."

"NIA?" The words exploded out of Perry's throat.  "What 
gives?  What is the NIA doing looking into Chesney's 
murder?"

"It's classified, sir."

"Classified?  What the heck did Brandon do?"  Cat shook her 
head.

"I'm afraid we can't tell you, Ms. Grant."

"Now hold on here..."

"Mr. White, this is a matter of national security."

"Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Conroy?" Clark 
asked politely.

Conroy's eyes narrowed as he studied the colourful 
superhero.  "Maybe there is," he said slowly.  "But I only 
want to talk to you.  No one else other than Detective 
Rizzo.  If Mr. White doesn't mind us using the conference 
room, we'll tell you about the situation right now."  He 
looked over at the editor.  "Mr. White?"

Perry grumbled, but he and Cat did leave the room.  

Once he was sure that the door was closed behind them, 
Conroy turned to Clark and studied him intently.  "Until 
today, I would have had no problem trusting you implicitly, 
Superman, but now, I'm not a hundred percent sure that I 
can."

"Why?"  Clark asked, puzzled.

"Like practically everyone else in this country, I've 
always believed that your code of ethics was more highly 
developed than most, and that you were completely above 
reproach in your behaviour.  During the Nightfall Asteroid 
crisis, you acted with a great deal of bravery and honour.  
But now that you've revealed that you're having an affair 
with Ms. Grant..."

"I'm not having an affair with her!" Clark exclaimed.

Conroy didn't respond, instead regarding him steadily, with 
one eyebrow raised in speculation.

"She was emotionally distraught...  I was concerned about 
her well-being..."  Clark shook his head, striving to 
regain his composure.  "I don't have to justify my actions 
to you, but I will assure you that I've always treated Ms. 
Grant with respect, and I resent your implications."

"Sorry!"  Conroy held his hands up, deflecting Clark's 
irritation.  "You have to admit - my assumption's a 
reasonable one."

"I don't have to admit anything!"  Clark smacked his hand 
down on the arm of his chair, only to have it snap off.  
"Oops!" 

Detective Rizzo dragged his gaze from the broken chair with 
a visible effort.  "Frank, what do you say we cut Superman 
some slack?  Why don't you just tell him about it?"

Conroy nodded.  "Yeah, okay."  He took a deep breath before 
continuing.  "Here's the problem in a nutshell.  The NIA is 
investigating one of India's bigwigs - a guy named 
Bobohinder Rahsanjani.  He's sort of India's equivalent of 
Lex Luthor - a rich socialite with fingers in every pot and 
many loyal followers.  He has charisma and influence and a 
business empire.  But unlike Luthor, he's completely 
amoral.  He's a real zealot, and unfortunately, he has a 
cause."

Clark snorted, but didn't say anything in rebuttal.  
Obviously these guys didn't know Luthor that well if they 
thought he had morals!  "If this guy is a criminal, 
wouldn't he be an internal problem for India?"

"Yeah, except for one thing.  Through sources, we've 
discovered that he has a contact in Metropolis who is 
acting as an arms dealer for him.  And we also think that 
this arms dealer has provided him with restricted 
technology."

"Like what?"

Conroy grimaced.  "Like some of the components for a 
neutron bomb."

"The bomb that destroys all organic life yet leaves 
buildings intact?"

"Not a completely accurate description, but yes, that's the 
one.  Furthermore, intelligence sources say that he plans 
on using it on Pakistan.  I'm sure I don't have to describe 
the animosity between the two countries.  They have a 
hostile history, to say the least.  If the government of 
Pakistan were to get wind of Rahsanjani's plans, we could 
have an even bigger problem."

"Bigger than a whole country being wiped off the map?"  
Clark asked incredulously.

Conroy nodded.  "Yes.  There's no way that the neutron bomb 
could destroy the whole country at once.  Attacks would 
have to be staggered which means there would be time for 
Pakistan to make an armed response.  I have to tell you 
that Pakistan is also a nuclear country..."

"They'd bomb India."  

"Yes.  And then China, India's ally, would get involved, 
and that would drag in the Russians, and the U.S. would 
feel obligated to respond, which in turn affects our 
allies, and...  Well, I think you probably have the whole 
picture now."

"Yes, I have the whole picture."  And he did.  There was a 
distinct possibility that if things progressed the way Mr. 
Conroy had projected, when the dust settled, Clark just 
might find himself to be the sole survivor of a nuclear 
holocaust.  "So where does Chesney fit in?  Do you think he 
was the arms dealer?"

"We don't know.  It doesn't fit with what we know about 
him, but on the other hand, Chesney was a very close friend 
of Rahsanjani, and they've always kept in close contact.  
In fact, at the end of this month, Chesney was booked to 
fly to India to participate in Rahsanjani's wedding."

"What can I do to help?"

"We need to determine if Chesney was the supplier.  If it 
wasn't Chesney, we have to find out who it really was.  To 
the best of our knowledge, Rahsanjani only has half the 
components he needs to build the bomb.  The United States 
government would prefer that he doesn't get his hands on 
the other half!  I have other leads I have to follow.  I 
can't spend my time on a dead man who can no longer harm 
his country.  I have to go after live traitors.  But time 
is running out.  If you could thoroughly check out Chesney 
- even if it's just to rule him out - it would be a huge 
help."

Clark sat lost in thought, gazing off into space.  He had 
to help.  That was a given.  But this was going to take an 
awful lot of his time.  How was he going to explain his 
absence, Clark's absence, to Lois or Perry?  Plus, he 
wanted Lois in on this.  She was discreet, knowledgeable, a 
genius at generating leads, had fantastic sources, and was 
the most exasperating, enchanting woman he knew, to boot.  
He made a decision and looked back at Conroy.

"I'll help on one condition."

"What's that?"

"I can't do this alone.  I need help.  I'd like to get Lois 
Lane and Clark Kent in on this.  We'd probably have to tell 
Perry White, too, so that he'd assign them to help me, but 
I definitely need Lane and Kent's help."

"Superman, they're reporters!  We can't afford any leaks!  
People would panic, information would disappear - it's just 
not worth it."

"Lane's different," Rizzo interrupted.  "Everyone in our 
department knows that her word can be trusted.  She's tough 
- a real hard case - but ethical.  I don't know this Kent 
very well - he's still pretty new in Metropolis - but he's 
the first guy who's ever been able to deal with Lane on a 
regular basis.  That means he's got something solid going 
for him."

Conroy shook his head.  "I don't know."

"The thing is those two have a lot more experience at 
investigating than I do.  Plus I might need someone in, um, 
shall we say, plain-clothes to help.  It's hard for me to 
be surreptitious."  Clark smiled.

Conroy thought for a long moment.  "All right," he said, 
finally.  "But they report to you, not to White.  He has to 
stay out of the loop."

"He could probably live with that as long as he gets a 
story at the end of it all.  He'll want your guarantee that 
you're not going to kill any potential story due to 
'national security.'"

"Well, there might be a couple of details that I don't want 
in the paper, but on the whole, I think I can live with 
that."  Conroy stood up, Clark followed suit, and the two 
men solemnly shook hands.  "I'll let you brief Lane and 
Kent, if that's okay, Superman.  I'll talk to Mr. White and 
get his okay to let them be your helpers."

"That's fine, sir.  I'll brief them tonight."  'Assuming I 
can get her to listen to me,' Clark thought.  'That's 
definitely not something I can take for granted!'

*****

Clark found himself flying slower and slower the closer he 
got to Lois's apartment.  She had been so cold and stern 
when he'd spoken to her as Superman at the Planet.  In 
fact, she'd only been slightly warmer when he, Clark, had 
reappeared to work with her.

After his meeting with Conroy and Rizzo, he'd approached 
Lois - feeling as though he had his cape tucked between his 
legs! - and told her that he needed her help as well as 
Clark's.  'Fine' had been her response.  

Then he'd said that he wanted to meet with her at her place 
around eight that evening if that was acceptable.  Again, 
she'd said 'fine.'  He'd thanked her for her willingness to 
help.  'Fine,' she'd said yet again.

He'd hoped that she wouldn't mind, but he wanted to talk to 
her separately - he'd fill Clark in later - because there 
were things that he needed to say to her alone.

Again, 'fine.'

He figured it would take a lot of talking to get more than 
'fine' out of her this night.

Hovering outside her window, he took a deep breath, slowly 
blew it out, and tapped lightly on the glass.  She 
approached, her face set in such an unmoving mask that she 
looked like a statue.  'And they call me the man of steel,' 
he thought.  'She looks more unyielding than I could even 
at my most superheroish.'

"Hi, Lois."

"Hi."  The word was clipped and short, and he was surprised 
that steam wasn't coming out of her ears.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me."

"No problem."

Clark swooped through the open window and landed lightly in 
front of her.  "How are you, tonight?"

"Fine."  Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were icy cold.

He sighed.  She sure wasn't making this easy.  "Lois, as I 
said earlier today, I need your help.  But before I ask for 
it, and before I explain what's going on, I want to tell 
you that nothing untoward happened between Cat and me last 
night."

"Fine."

"I realise that it looks bad, but Cat and I are not having 
an affair."

"Fine."

"You don't believe me?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe, Superman.  You say 
nothing happened?  Fine.  Nothing happened.  Except 
something must have happened.  You did spend almost five 
hours with her."

"We just talked.  She was very upset."

"Fine.  No problem.  Not my business, anyway."  Lois sat 
down on the small couch.  "So what do you need?"

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

She waved an expansive hand in the air.  "Fine.  Suit 
yourself."

In an attempt to take some of the wind out of her sails, 
Clark shifted backwards and sat on thin air.  

Her jaw dropped for just a second, but she recovered 
quickly.  "So, you need my help.  What for?"

Clark sighed again and gave up.  He'd just have to try to 
talk some sense into her later.  For right now, he had no 
other choice but to explain what Conroy had told him.

The expressionless mask cracked as she listened, her shock 
and horror clear for him to see.

"... I don't feel I can do this on my own.  I need you and 
Clark to work with me."

"To be your assistants?  Follow your orders?" Lois asked, 
her voice deceptively mild.

"No.  To lead the way.  Let's face it, Lois.  I'm not a 
reporter.  I don't know how to investigate.  It's true; 
there are things I can do that no one else can.  But this 
is something that you do better than anyone.  Clark's 
almost as good.  I'll be YOUR assistant, so to speak."

Her face softened for a split second before the mask 
snapped back into place.  "Fine."

Back to 'fine!'  He sighed yet again.  This did not look 
promising.  "So, any ideas?"

She gazed into space for a moment.  "Let me think on it.  
If you could fill Clark in tonight, then he and I can come 
up with a plan of action in the morning.  Will you be able 
to meet with the two of us first thing?"

'Now, wouldn't that be bizarre?' he thought.  "I don't 
know," he answered stiffly, hating having to lie to her.  
"I'll try.  But if I can't, Clark can fill me in later."

"Clark?"  Her eyes narrowed.  "Why Clark?"

"He knows how to contact me."

Her eyes narrowed further.  "I know he does, but why does 
he?  He's never explained."

"Well... we're friends."

"You and I are friends.  At least I thought we were."

Clark found himself squirming.  "We are friends, Lois, but 
it's different with Clark and me."

"Why?"  Her eyes bored into him, hard as flint and just as 
cold.

"Just because."

"That's not an answer.  Why is it different?"

"Because I have a key to his place!" he blurted out.

"What?"

Clark sighed.  He really hadn't meant to tell her that!  "I 
do my laundry there."

"Laundry?"

"Think about it, Lois.  I don't have a place to call my 
own.  I don't have a washer.  It's much nicer using Clark's 
than to find a stream and pound my suit against a rock."

"I have a washer," she said brusquely.

He sighed again for the umpteenth time since they'd started 
this conversation.  "I know you do, Lois, but it wouldn't 
look right for me to fly in and out of your place all the 
time."

"And it looks better when you go to Clark's?"

"Well, yes."  Clark shrugged.

"Why?"

"Um, well, you're a woman, and I'm a man, and people might 
get the wrong impression."

"Uh huh.  Right."  She didn't sound convinced.

"If people thought we were close, you'd become a target.  
You could say that my avoiding you is for your own good."  
Judging from the look on her face, Clark decided that 
hadn't come out right.  "Um, that didn't come out right, 
did it?" 

"I don't know, Superman.  Did you mean it to sound 
incredibly patronising?  If so, I'd say it came out just 
FINE!" she exclaimed.

"No," he said quietly.  "I really didn't mean to sound 
patronising.  I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she snapped.

"Lois," Clark said, taking a step towards her.  "I am 
sorry.  I didn't mean it."

She looked down.  "What did you mean?"

"I don't know.  I..."  At that point, he heard the 
unmistakable squeal of brakes and cacophony of horns as 
cars collided on the freeway.  "I'm sorry.  I have to go.  
Someone needs me.  We'll talk tomorrow."

As he swooped through the window, he heard Lois mutter 
under her breath.  "Fine."

*****

"Hey, Lois!  How are you today?"  Clark placed a cup of 
coffee and a muffin in front of his partner.

"Fine."  She didn't look up at him.

His heart sank.  She was going to treat Clark that way, 
too?  "I think we should talk in the conference room, don't 
you?"

"Fine."  She got up from her desk, grabbed some notes and 
stomped off without a backwards glance.

Clark sighed and followed in her wake.  Obviously she was 
still pretty irritated at his alter ego and she was going 
to take it out on her partner!  He sighed.  This could be a 
long day.

Once in the conference room, she didn't hesitate in coming 
to the point.  "There are a lot of questions that we have 
to find the answers to.  I've made a list."

"Lois?"

"For example, how long were Chesney and Rahsanjani friends?  
How did they meet?  What were their common interests?"

"Lois?"

"We should find out more about Julia Hawthorne and about 
Rahsanjani's fianc‚e.  We need to know who the other major 
people are in their lives."

"Are you mad at me?  We need to get along if we're going to 
work on this together."  Clark pulled a chair out and sat 
down across from his partner.

Lois looked up from her notes and gave him a tight smile.  
"I'm not mad at you, Clark."  She looked back down.  "I 
also think that we should find out what is needed for 
manufacturing the components of a neutron bomb.  I can't 
imagine that it's something the average machine shop could 
turn out."

"I really feel like you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad.  Really.  Okay?"

"Okay."  Clark relaxed in his chair. 

"Fine.  Now then, it would also be good if we could find 
out what businesses Rahsanjani is involved in."

"But we're only supposed to be checking Chesney out."

Lois shook her head sadly.  "Clark, you're missing the 
point.  The world is in danger.  I don't see how, in good 
conscience, we can only do part of the job.  Do you?"

"Not when you put it like that."

"So, we're agreed.  We're going to shut Rahsanjani down, 
discover who the arms dealer is, and if it's not Chesney, 
shut him down, too?"

Clark grinned.  "I don't know why the NIA even bothered 
asking Superman for help.  They should have come to you, 
first!"

Lois smiled back at him, looking natural for the first time 
in a day and a half.  "Well, yeah, they should have.  But 
Conroy's not from around here.   If he were, he'd know 
better!"  Her smile faded, all the animation draining out 
of her face once more.  "I thought you could start with 
Julia Hawthorne.  She might respond better to a man than 
another woman."

"That's fine."  Clark winced.  Was he going to start saying 
'fine' all the time, too?  He shook his head and continued, 
"Who are you going to tackle first?"

Lois's eyes narrowed, and her fists clenched.  "I thought 
I'd start with Cat."  She spat out the last word.

Oh-oh, he thought.  Not a good idea.  "Actually," he said 
slowly while he thought fast.  "I think I should talk to 
Cat while you talk to Hawthorne."
 
"I don't think so, Clark!  I said that I'd interview Cat, 
and I'm going to interview Cat!  I'm the senior journalist 
here, and you're supposed to follow my lead!"

"Lois, please, I'm not trying to make waves.  But you look 
pretty upset, and what's more you look upset with Cat."

"I'm fine," she snapped.  "I'm not upset.  Why would you 
say I'm upset?"  She smacked her hand onto the table.  
"Okay, I'm upset.  But I'm upset with you for questioning 
me.  We don't have time for this!"

"No, we don't," he retorted, his voice calm and even.  "In 
lieu of the fact that the earth might be about to be 
destroyed in a nuclear holocaust, it doesn't make sense to 
hold on to grievances at all."  He took a deep breath.  
"I'll tell you what," he said in a soothing tone of voice.  
"Why don't we let Cat decide who she'd be more comfortable 
with?  That's what I'd prefer if I had to be interviewed by 
a colleague."  Clark quickly crossed to the conference room 
door and hastily opened it.  "Cat, would you come in here, 
please?" he called to her.  

He saw a look of sheer fury pass over Lois's face, but she 
contained it quickly.

Cat Grant approached the room and paused in the doorway.  
"Hey, guys!"

She looked different today, he thought.  Much more brittle 
emotionally and a lot less like her normal self.  She 
wasn't dressed as provocatively, and that sensual overlay 
that normally permeated her speech and her actions, just 
wasn't there.  She seemed like a changed woman - her self-
esteem shaky.

"Cat, we need to interview you," Clark told her.  "We want 
you to be comfortable so we'll let you choose who you want 
to talk to.  Who would you feel more comfortable with, me 
or Lois?"

Lois glared at her menacingly.

Cat laughed nervously, her eyes shifting from Lois to Clark 
and back again.  "Nothing personal, Lois, but you know I 
can't resist a handsome man," she said, her normally 
flirtatious drawl sounding jerky and tense.  "I think I'll 
talk to Clark.  Besides, you look like you're in a hurry to 
head out."  She sidled a little closer to him as she spoke.  

Clark didn't blame her for trying to seek shelter.  His 
partner looked positively murderous.

"Fine!" Lois snapped as she hastily gathered together her 
notes.

"Hey!  We never managed to have lunch yesterday.  Do you 
think we could do that today?" Cat asked tentatively.

Lois stopped what she was doing and glared at Cat with 
burning eyes.  "No.  I already know I'll be too busy."

Cat flinched at the angry look but recovered quickly.  "Too 
bad.  Maybe tomorrow then," she said lightly, darting a 
quick anxious look at Clark.

Lois didn't say anything more, instead stomping past Clark 
and Cat.  The door slammed shut in her wake.

"Wow!" Cat exclaimed.

"Tell me about it," Clark muttered as he sighed in relief 
at the release of tension.

Cat sat down at the table and glanced through the open 
window.  She watched as Lois stormed onto the elevator.  
"Why do we let her get away with that stuff?"

"I guess because she's good, and she gets the job done," 
Clark answered, his eyes shifting back to Cat now that Lois 
was out of sight.

"That's why Perry lets her get away with that act of hers.  
But why does everyone else?"

Clark thought hard for a second.  "Well, when all's said 
and done, we're her friends."

"Hmmm."  She looked at him, a strange expression on her 
face.  "We might be her friends, but there are limits, 
aren't there, Clark?"

Upon hearing her parrot Superman's comment from two nights 
before, his eyes darted to her.  Was that a knowing 
expression on her face?  Did she know?  Had she figured 
things out?  He sighed.  If she had, he'd never know unless 
she told him.  It wasn't the kind of thing that he could 
double check.

This must be what a mouse feels like in a cat's clutches.

*****

'Cat prefers to talk to Clark?  Fine!  Clark wants to shove 
me out of the way to interview Cat?  Fine.  She just can't 
resist a handsome man? Fine!  If fact, this whole 'gone to 
hell in a hand basket' world is just FINE!  My life is 
fine!  Superman's fine, Cat's fine, Clark's fine, and I'm 
JUST FINE!'  

Lois expertly manoeuvred her Jeep through Metropolis's 
crowded streets.  She had somehow managed to get through to 
Julia Hawthorne who had agreed to see her.  But Julia had 
another appointment, she'd said, so Lois had to get to her 
home within the next hour.  

It had already taken her twenty minutes just to get to 
Hawthorne's neighbourhood.  That wasn't going to give her 
much time for the interview, but Lois figured she could 
work around that easily.  She'd had to before, and she'd 
probably have to again.

The Jeep glided to a smooth stop at a red light.  Lois's 
fingers tapped in their own rhythm on the steering wheel.  
The worst thing of all, she thought, was that Clark was 
right.  There wasn't time to indulge in petty grievances; 
Cat should be interviewed, not attacked, and Lois was 
upset.  But that didn't make it any easier to hear.  In 
fact, it was worse knowing that her greenhorn junior 
partner was thinking more clearly than she was at this 
point in time.

The light changed to green.  As she eased her foot onto the 
gas, she decided that she was just going to have to go with 
the flow for the time being.  But when this whole 'world 
could be destroyed' situation was resolved, then she would 
have it out with Cat.  And with Clark.  And with Superman.  
And with anyone else who managed to tick her off in the 
next few days!

In the meantime, everything was just FINE!

*****

As Cat talked about Brandon Chesney, Clark took notes to 
share with Lois.  Unfortunately, he really didn't think 
that any of the information he was receiving from Cat was 
going to pan out at all.  Basically, with the exception of 
a few exotic tidbits to do with Chesney and Cat's love life 
- that he'd have rather not known! - it was all pretty 
standard stuff.  There was nothing to pique his interest or 
engage his reporter's intuition.

What concerned him more was the possibility that Cat had 
figured out his secret.  Other than the one pointed 
comment, and the accompanying odd expression on her face, 
she hadn't let anything slip.  Surely if she did know, 
she'd have told him.  Subtlety was not exactly known to be 
Cat Grant's strong point!

"I'm afraid that I just can't think of anything else, 
Clark."  Cat fell silent.

"That's okay," he assured her.  "We have a lot of other 
places where we can check for info about Chesney."

"I just wish I could help more."

"Oh, no, you've been great!" he assured her.

"It's just that I didn't want to pry...  I accepted what he 
told me.  I might have been in love with him, but I figured 
he still deserved his privacy - even from me."  She spoke 
intensely, her eyes meeting his for a moment.

"That's commendable," he said slowly.  "I'm surprised, 
though.  You are a gossip columnist, after all."

She nodded.  "True enough, but you need to know something 
about me."  She paused and took a deep breath before 
continuing.  "I don't target my friends."  

"Very loyal of you."

"But if one of my friends was blatant about a secret - a 
secret that was newsworthy - I wouldn't have a lot of 
choice.  I'd hate doing it, but I'd splash their secret 
across the front page if it was big enough." 

"Oh."

"So I'd really prefer for a friend of mine to be subtle.  
You know, not to rub my nose in anything.  I'd sure hate to 
ruin a person's life because he or she gave me no choice."

"I'll keep that in mind.  For future reference.  If I had a 
secret.  Which I don't."  A smile spread slowly across 
Clark's face.

"Which you don't," she repeated firmly.  

"I think that's a great attitude.  Any person who can claim 
you as a friend is very lucky, indeed!"  He gave her arm an 
affectionate squeeze. 

"Thanks, Clark!"  Cat smiled shyly at him.  "Hey!  I have 
an idea.  It's almost lunchtime.  You hungry?"

He grinned.  "Starving!  What are you in the mood for?"

A wicked look spread across her face.  She raised her 
eyebrows, licked her lips lasciviously, and winked 
impishly.  

"None of that!" he exclaimed, wagging his index finger at 
her, secretly delighted by her revived sense of humour.  
Now that he knew her better, it didn't make him 
uncomfortable at all.  

She laughed, instantly abandoning her wanton pose.  "How 
about the cafeteria?"

"Sounds good.  Plus, it'll be quick.  I got a ton of stuff 
to do," Clark said.  "My treat, okay?"

"No way!  I asked you!"

"But I want to."

"So do I."

He grinned.  "We could always arm-wrestle to decide who 
pays!"

"Only if I get to search out all your ticklish spots 
first," she purred with a flirtatious glance.

"You win.  Your treat!"

She laughed triumphantly as she led him out of the 
conference room.

*****

What a waste of time!  What a waste of effort!  Hawthorne 
had been more interested in discussing Cat than Chesney.  
She hadn't provided anything substantial about him at all, 
instead preferring to rip shreds off Cat.

Lois had defended her colleague - not because she felt Cat 
was all that worthy of respect, but more because if anyone 
was going to dump on Cat, Lois wanted it to be her!

So, here she was, still at square one, sitting at her desk, 
none of Chesney's friends answering their phones, and of 
course, her partner was AWOL again, and she was starving, 
and the vending machines only had stale cheese sandwiches 
in them, and to top it all off, she couldn't focus on this 
story, because all she wanted to do was chew Cat Grant's 
head off - or Superman's.  Either one would do!

As would Clark's.  Superman's buddy, Superman's pal, 
provider of super-duper laundry services - she'd dearly 
love to chew his head off, too!

She stared off into space, thinking hard, only to hear her 
errant partner's distinctive laugh.  Lois spun around only 
to gape unbelieving as Clark and Cat strolled off the 
elevator.  The hussy had her arm hooked in his and smiled 
fatuously as she gazed adoringly at him.

Lois wanted to rip Cat's eyes out!

She got up and stomped over to confront them.  "Where have 
you two been?  I've been waiting for you!"

"We grabbed a bite to eat."

"There's no time to eat!  This is important stuff, or have 
you forgotten, Clark?"

"Lois," Cat said soothingly.  "Come on.  Take it easy.  We 
were only gone twenty minutes."

"Can't speak for yourself, Clark?  What's the matter? Cat 
got your tongue?"  Lois spun on her heel and stormed back 
to her desk.

"That's not fair, Lois!  Clark can speak for himself," Cat 
protested.

"Fine."  Lois turned to Clark.  "So speak already."

"Cat's right.  We were..."

"You just couldn't wait to get your claws into him again, 
could you?" Lois snarled at the other woman.

"You're wrong..."

"Lois, nothing happened between Cat and me..."  Clark 
glanced from one woman to the other. 

"Fine.  Nothing happened.  Like I believe that!   Do I look 
like I care either way?"

Clark didn't say anything.  She just stood and glared, her 
arms crossed, and waited for his answer.  

Finally he shrugged.  "No, I guess not."

"That's right.  I don't care what you do when you're not at 
work, but I need you here, now.  I can't find anything out.  
I'm going crazy here.  I really need my partner's help."

Clark's head tilted up, a familiar abstracted expression on 
his face.  "I have to run," he said, hurriedly.

Lois started to protest.

"I have to meet a source.  Sorry, I didn't have a chance to 
tell you before.  I'll be back in a bit."  And he dashed 
out of the room before she could say anything else.

"Lois," Cat said softly.  "You have the wrong idea.  All we 
did was grab a bite to eat.  Clark and I are friends..."

"Hah!  Friends.  You don't know how to be friends with 
anyone, let alone a man.  'Good for only one thing' - how 
many times have I heard you say that?"

A tiny part of Lois flinched when she saw all the colour 
drain from Cat's face.  But she ignored it, intent on one 
thing.  She wanted to make Cat hurt as much as she did.

"I was wrong," Cat said, taking Lois by surprise.

"Yeah, well, I was wrong about a few things, too."  Lois 
glared at the other woman.  

Cat shook her head, staring helplessly back at Lois.  "I'm 
sorry I've upset you, Lois," she said softly.

All the wind suddenly out of her sails, Lois sank down into 
her chair.  "I'm sorry, too, Cat.  I don't know what's got 
into me."  

Cat grabbed Clark's chair and pulled it closer before 
sitting down.  "I just want you to know that I want to 
help.  I don't know what Brandon was involved in, but it 
must have been pretty bad if the NIA's involved.  And it 
really makes me worry knowing that Superman's been asked to 
help, and that both you and Clark are investigating."

Lois gave Cat a shaky smile.  "Pretty good deductive 
reasoning."

"Thanks."  She grinned smugly.  "So what do you say we 
forget all this petty jealousy and get back to work?  Maybe 
I can help."

Lois's spine stiffened, and blood roared through her veins.  
"Jealousy?  I'm not jealous!  Like I need to be jealous of 
someone like you!"

Fiery sparks came to life in Cat's eyes.  "What do you mean 
- someone like me?"

"Oh, don't ask me that question.  You might not like the 
answer!"

"Too bad mean Lois shoved nice Lois out the window!" Cat 
sneered.  "For a moment there, I really liked nice Lois 
even though she has no fashion sense."

"I guess you think short skirts and thong underwear are the 
height of fashion!"

Cat got up and started to sashay back to her own desk.  
"Only for those of us who have the equipment to wear them!"  
She looked back over her shoulder.  "Stick to pantsuits, 
Lois.  It's always better not to pretend to be something 
you're not."  

"Better get back to work, Cat.  What would become of the 
world if we didn't know what Fifi Foufou wore to her third 
husband's 97th birthday party?"

For a brief second, Lois saw pain and vulnerability lurking 
in Cat's eyes before anger overshadowed it.  It made her 
ashamed.  But Cat had provoked her.  She'd set Lois off.  
Imagine, accusing Lois of jealousy!  It wasn't jealousy!  
There was no way that she would ever be jealous of anything 
that woman did!  No way!  Ever!  Just not possible!

*****

Clark got back to the office as quickly as possible.  He 
felt pretty good, having stopped the bank robber in his 
tracks with no one getting hurt.

He was surprised to find Lois absent when he re-entered the 
newsroom.  Cat sat at her desk, pecking desultorily at her 
keyboard.  She didn't look up as he approached.

"Where's Lois?"

Her eyes downcast, Cat paused in her typing.  "Gone to 
interview one of Brandon's society friends.  She said to 
tell you that she left a list of more people for you to try 
to track down.  It's on your desk."

"Thanks, Cat!" Clark exclaimed before starting to head over 
to his workstation.  But he stopped dead when he heard a 
tiny noise behind him.  "Cat?" he asked incredulously.  
"Are you crying?"

She sniffed again.  "No," she replied in a small voice.

He squatted on his heels and looked into her face.  "Yes, 
you are."  His hand reached out to awkwardly pat her arm.  
"Was it Lois?  What did she say to you?"

Cat shook her head vehemently.  "No, not really.  She 
didn't say anything different from what she would have said 
this time last week.  But today it hurt."

"You've had a rough couple of days."

She nodded slowly as tears slowly rolled down her cheeks.  
"All day I've been thinking about Brandon.  I did love him 
- at least, I thought I did.  And now he's dead, and I'm 
sorry."

"I know."  He pulled a tissue from the box on her desk and 
handed it to her.

"Thanks, Clark."  Cat looked at him with a wavering smile.  
"You really are a good friend."

He smiled back.  "I try."

"At least you and Lois are going to find out who killed 
him," Cat said briskly.

"Maybe.  Maybe not."

"What do you mean?"

"There's stuff we need to find out about Chesney, but it 
doesn't relate directly to his death."

"How do you know that?  It might."

Clark grimaced.  "There's stuff I can't tell you.  But what 
he was involved in is a lot more important than solving his 
murder.  There are other things we need to figure out that 
are bigger."

"But his murder could be related!"

Clark shook his head.  "I don't see how."

"What does Lois think?"

"I'm not sure.  She's not exactly talking much to me 
either."  He and Cat exchanged a wry, amused glance.  "But 
she hasn't talked about investigating his murder.  We need 
to dig into his connections and his background first."

"But..."

Clark's phone rang.

"Excuse me, Cat.  I have to get that.  Are you going to be 
okay?" he asked as he moved away.

"Yeah, just fine."

As Clark talked to Chesney's old high school buddy, he 
watched Cat as she worked.  He couldn't help but be 
concerned.  But she seemed to have pulled herself together 
so he turned all his attention back to his phone call.

He didn't see her leave the newsroom a few minutes later, 
an uncharacteristic look of steely determination on her 
face.

*****

"You want to do what?" Detective Rizzo asked.  He stared 
incredulously at the gorgeous woman who sat on the other 
side of his desk.  

"I want to look into Brandon Chesney's murder."

"Look, Ms. Grant.  This is a police matter.  We don't 
encourage civilian involvement in our investigations."

"Never?  I seem to remember quite a few matters that were 
resolved with the help of civilians."

"Like what?"

She smiled tightly.  "How about Kyle Griffin?  Or Ray 
Henshaw?  Susan Mortimer?  Need I go on?"

"Those weren't murders."

"No, true.  But what about Kevin Arnold?"

"Yeah, okay.  But we had help from...  Those reporters 
were..."

"What's wrong, Detective Rizzo?"  Her eyes danced with 
amusement.

He opened and closed his mouth before finally speaking.  
"Those were specific exceptions.  They were different from 
this."

"Why?"

He shook his head.  "Okay, well, Lane helped us with two of 
those stories, and then that hot-shot, Carmichael, over at 
the Star helped us with the others..."

"So?"

"They're real reporters!  Not gossip columnists!"

Cat stood up and leaned forward across his desk making him 
feel trapped by her strong presence.  "Are you saying that 
I'm not a real reporter?"

Rizzo glanced around.  His colleagues weren't very good at 
hiding their snickers.  A couple of them were blatantly 
eavesdropping.  He didn't blame them.  Cat Grant was some 
dish.  So no help from those jerks!  "No, but...  Um, not 
experienced in the same way."

"Are you trying to say that I'm not experienced at doing 
investigative reporting?"

"Yeah, that's it," he said, relieved.  She'd hit the nail 
on the head.

She smiled a smile that he didn't trust and sat back down.  
"But I am, Detective Rizzo.  I'm very experienced.  And I'm 
good at what I do."

"I'm sure you are, Ms. Grant, but..."

She studied her flawlessly manicured nails.  "We met 
yesterday for the first time, correct?"

"Yeah.  So what?"

"It was just a couple of hours ago that I found out Lois 
and Clark have different priorities from me and won't be 
directly investigating Brandon's murder."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"So how's your dad feeling?  Better, I hope.  An ulcer is 
nothing to sneer at."

"How did you know about my dad?"

"And his dog, Buck?  He's recovered from his run-in with 
that German Shepherd?"

"Hey!  You checked me out!"

"Very good.  I see why you made detective!"  Cat grinned, 
her white teeth flashing.  "It was no different from 
finding out which actor's cheating on his wife.  I could go 
on if you wanted.  I found out a lot in just a couple of 
hours.  I know all about Emma Lou Sanderson and how you 
took her to the prom.  I know your grades.  I know that you 
wanted to be a fireman when you were thirteen.  I even know 
about Freddie."  She glanced at his amused colleagues.  
"Want me to share?"

She knew about Freddie?  "No," he muttered, his mouth dry.  
If she told his buddies that he had slept with a stuffed 
giraffe until he'd been ten, he'd never live it down! 

Cat Grant leaned forward again, causing his heart to thump 
and his blood pressure to rise.  Man, she was one hot babe!  

"I didn't target you to be malicious or anything.  I just 
wanted to make a point.  I'll be the first to admit that 
I've never looked into a murder, but I am a good 
investigator, Detective Rizzo.  I could be a big help to 
you.  I know it."  She sat back and crossed one perfect 
knee over the other.  "Please let me help you."  

Wow!  Her legs were really long.  They seemed to go on for 
miles, shapely calves leading to perfect oval kneecaps and 
on to creamy white thighs that her short skirt did nothing 
to hide.

His breath caught in his throat.  "I don't know."  He 
forced himself to stand up.  "I'll think about it."

She sprang to her feet and extended her hand.  "Thank you.  
You won't regret this!"

He had to force himself to let go after a perfunctory 
handshake.  "I didn't say 'yes,' Ms. Grant."

"But you didn't say 'no,' either.  I appreciate that."  She 
batted her eyelashes.  "I'll wait to hear from you."

"Yeah."  And you just might be waiting a long time, he 
thought as he watched her sashay out of the room.  To be 
fair, though, she really had found a lot out about his 
personal life.  He was impressed, in spite of his 
reservations.  And she was gorgeous...  But that had 
nothing to do with it.  On the other hand, he was stuck 
with no leads in Chesney's death...  Maybe there was 
something she could do...  But he shouldn't even be 
thinking about this...  

His hand tingled, still feeling the softness of hers, the 
warmth of her flesh.

Rizzo jumped to his feet and dashed out of the room. He 
caught up to her as she was about to get into a taxi.

"Ms. Grant?"

She turned back and smiled at him.  "Yes?"

He melted.  "I just wanted to say..."  He paused and took a 
deep breath.  What else could he do?  He had a weakness for 
tall, leggy, auburn-haired beauties.  "All right.  We'll 
try it."

"Thank you!"   A broad incandescent smile spread across her 
face.  

He felt dizzy.  "You're welcome, Ms. Grant."

"Oh, please, call me Cat.  I'll call you Joe if that's 
okay."

"Yeah, fine."

"I'll need to go over your files."

Rizzo sighed again.  "Yeah, okay.  But we can't do it here.  
My boss wouldn't be happy with me for letting you get 
involved."

She nodded solemnly.  "I can understand that.  How about my 
place?  Six o'clock.  You bring your notes, and I'll have 
supper ready.  Sound good?"

Did it sound good?  Having dinner alone with this fantastic 
sexy woman?  Yeah, he had to admit it sounded great!  
"That'll be fine," he said quietly even while his stomach 
tried to tie itself in a knot.

"Good.  See you then.  You won't be sorry, Joe."  She took 
a second to give him her address before climbing into the 
car.

Silently praying that she was right, he stood and watched 
as the taxi drove off with Cat Grant in its back seat.  

Dinner with the sexiest woman he'd ever seen...  Wow!  Too 
bad a gorgeous broad like her could never be interested in 
a working stiff like him.

*****

"I got nothing.  How about you?"

"Nothing," Clark answered glumly.

Lois looked tired, he thought.  And well she should.  She 
had an impressive sheaf of notes in front of her.  His pile 
was almost as large.  He was amused in a way.  Only Lois 
could outdo Superman!

She seemed a lot calmer, her bad mood a thing of the past, 
thankfully.  Instead, she was focused on work.  Clark was 
relieved that things were back to normal.

Lois, however, was feeling anything but normal.  She had 
never been so depressed in her life.  And what was most 
upsetting was that she couldn't even figure out exactly 
what was bothering her.  It should have meant nothing to 
her that Cat and Clark had gone out to lunch together.  She 
wasn't jealous.  How could she be jealous of Clark?  And 
she'd believed them when they'd said that they had only had 
lunch together, just like she'd believed Superman when he'd 
said that he wasn't having an affair with Cat.  So what was 
the problem?  

With a start, she brought her attention back to Clark and 
to her notes, not that it would do much good.  They had 
nothing to go on.  Chesney's friendship with Rahsanjani was 
nothing more than a coincidence.  The man had been a rich, 
spoiled, socialite with the morals of a pack of wild dogs, 
but he'd not been an arms dealer.    

So if Chesney hadn't supplied Rahsanjani with illegal 
weapons, who had?

"Want to grab a bite to eat?" Clark asked.

She shook her head.  "No.  I'm beat.  I think I'll just go 
home and crash."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah.  I wouldn't be good company anyway."

A concerned Clark flew past Lois's window later that night.  
It was locked.  He had never seen it locked before.

Through the drawn curtains, he could see the faint glow of 
her TV.  He thought about knocking, but decided against it.  
She had made it pretty obvious she didn't want to see him.  
Either him.

*****

Joe Rizzo wiped the sweaty palms of his hands down the side 
of his jeans before ringing Cat Grant's doorbell.  He'd 
thought of dressing up a bit - after all, she must be used 
to a different kind of man - but he'd worn his jeans 
instead.  He was too stubborn to try to change just to 
impress a woman, even if that woman was the most 
interesting and exotic person he'd ever met.

He hoped she wasn't going to feed him any raw fish or stuff 
like that.  He also hoped she wasn't a vegetarian.  Bean 
sprouts and celery sticks didn't do anything for him.

The door swung open, and Rizzo's mouth gaped open.  "You 
look different!" he exclaimed.

Cat looked down at her oversized sweatshirt and her snug 
jeans and shrugged.  "I felt like being comfortable.  I 
know I look awful...."

"Oh, no, you look fantastic!" he hastily assured her as he 
followed her inside the apartment.

She flashed him a quick dazzling smile.  "Thanks!  I hope 
you like pizza.  It just arrived about two minutes ago, so 
it's still hot.  I ordered pepperoni and mushroom; I hope 
that's okay.  I didn't know what you liked."

"Perfect!  That's my favourite."

"Mine, too.  I also have a cold six-pack.  I figured you 
were off-duty so it would be okay." 

"Sounds great."  Rizzo piled his notes on the coffee table 
in front of her couch as she served up the pizza and 
snagged a couple of beers.  Light beer.  Oh well.  Nobody's 
perfect, he thought philosophically as he took a healthy 
swig.

They didn't talk business as they ate, instead preferring 
to enjoy their food.  Rizzo couldn't help worrying about 
what would happen later.  He knew his own cast-iron stomach 
would have no problem when they started discussing 
Chesney's murder, but he was concerned about how Cat would 
react.  She had dated the man - been intimate with him, 
Rizzo reminded himself with a grimace - and now he was 
dead.  And he hadn't just died in his sleep.  He'd been 
murdered in a particularly cruel and violent manner.

Rizzo swallowed the last bite of pizza, washed it down with 
a mouthful of beer and then scrubbed at his mouth and 
fingers with a paper napkin.  Cat was only a few bites 
behind him, and he waited patiently while she finished.  
She sure hadn't eaten her food in the prissy delicate way 
he'd been expecting.  

"I guess we should get started," he said, when he was sure 
she was done.

She nodded bravely, scooted a little closer to him on the 
couch and aimed her attention at the file folders on the 
coffee table.

It didn't take long for Rizzo to go over what little they 
knew.  He described the murder scene and told her about the 
homeless kids who had found the body when they'd been 
looking for a quiet place to sack out.  Forensics had found 
a blood trail leaving the place, but no other clues.  

"That's it?  That's everything?" she asked incredulously.

"Pretty much," he admitted.

"What about the autopsy report?"

He shook his head, grimly.  "You don't want to know about 
that."

"Probably not, but tell me anyway."

Joe turned to face Cat.  He reached out and took her 
slender hand in his.  "Are you sure?  It's bad."

She nodded.

"I mean it.  It's really bad."  His voice was grim.

He watched as all the colour drained out of her face.  She 
nodded again, her lips pressed together in one tight line.  
He squeezed her hand gently before releasing it and turning 
back to the last file folder in the pile.  Rizzo didn't 
open this file wide as he had the others.  He didn't want 
her to see the photos.  Instead, he picked it up and opened 
it carefully, only long enough to extract a single typed 
page - the autopsy report.

Upon seeing it, Cat recoiled, her spine hitting the back of 
the couch.  Then she tucked her hands under her armpits as 
if she were cold and rocked forward to peruse it.  One hand 
uncoiled to hover over the paper.  She lightly touched one 
line of information and then laughed - one hoarse bark of 
sound with no amusement in it at all.  "He was forty-one!  
He always told me he was thirty-five!"  She shook her head.   
"He's dead, and I'm still tripping over his lies."

"Are you okay?" Rizzo asked, his arm slipping gingerly 
around her shoulders.  

He'd rescued a newborn puppy once that some psychopathic 
scumbag had dumped down a storm sewer.  The puppy had been 
soft and warm and frail and delicate, and it had trembled 
in the palm of his hand.  That was what Cat felt like.  She 
felt vulnerable and small and scared, and in need of 
protection.  His protection. 

"Why did he feel he had to lie about his age?" she asked, 
ignoring his question.  "Did he think I'd like him better 
if he were younger?  What kind of person lies about 
something so small?"  She turned to Joe.  "Have you ever 
lied about your age?"

"Only when I was a kid trying to buy beer!  Didn't you?" he 
asked with a wry grin.

She laughed, her face lightening as she smiled at him.  
"Okay, when you put it like that..."  Her smile faded as 
she stared into his eyes.  "Thanks, Joe.  I should be okay, 
now."

He nodded, squeezed carefully and then reluctantly pulled 
his arm away from her shoulders.  His flesh tingled where 
it had touched her.  He yearned to hold her once more, but 
instead he turned back to the autopsy report.  "Tell me if 
this gets too gruesome for you to handle, okay?"

"Okay."

"All right then.  Chesney died from massive 
exsanguinations."

"Huh?"

"Blood loss.  He was stabbed numerous times.  Not once was 
it a killing blow."

"In effect, you're telling me he was tortured to death?"

Rizzo grimaced.  "Yeah."  He glanced at her to see her 
reaction.

Cat looked a bit green, as though she were regretting the 
pizza she'd eaten, but she seemed to be holding herself 
together even so.

"He had defensive cuts on his hands that tell us he saw 
this coming and he did try to defend himself.  Whoever did 
this was just too good, though.  A real expert."

"How do you know?"

"This was a very methodical attack.  From what we've 
reconstructed, the first attack came from behind.  It's 
possible Chesney had turned to run.  He was hamstrung and 
then the killer took his time.  It looked like the work of 
someone in a frenzy, but it really wasn't.  Do you realise 
how difficult it is for someone to avoid stabbing a 
vulnerable spot?  There were at least two hundred and fifty 
wounds, and not one of them was fatal on its own.  That 
tells me that every cut was made with precision."

"Oh God!" Cat covered her mouth with a shaking hand.

Rizzo peered anxiously at her, but she motioned him to go 
on.  "In fact the coroner said that there might have been 
more than three hundred wounds, but it was impossible to 
tell as some of them were so close together they couldn't 
be differentiated."

"A monster did this," Cat whispered.

Rizzo nodded.  "Yeah.  A sadist in the truest sense of the 
word.  Someone who hungers for blood, and feasts on pain."  
He picked up the file folder in order to slip the autopsy 
report back inside.  A photo slid out as he opened the 
folder a crack.  It landed face-up on the table.  Joe swore 
and reached for it.  

Cat's hand snapped around his wrist as she blocked his 
move.  "Sweet Mother in Heaven," she breathed as she 
studied the bloodied unrecognizable body of her lover.

He twisted his hand free and quickly picked up the picture, 
tucking it away, cursing himself for not having left the 
photos at work.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't want you to see 
that."

She looked off into space and spoke, as if to herself.  
"When I found out about his fianc‚e, I wanted him to 
suffer.  I wanted his friends to laugh at him.  I wanted 
his fianc‚e to dump him.  I wanted him to come crawling 
back to me so I could smack him down and reject him.  But 
this...  I didn't want this."

"I know."  Rizzo patted her awkwardly on the arm.  He could 
feel her muscles trembling.  She didn't relax into him, 
instead sitting tall, all rigid and tense.  

She turned, pulling away from him, and he felt the full 
weight of her gaze.  "You thought I did this?  You came to 
the Planet, and you tried to arrest me for this?  You 
thought I could do this?"

He winced hearing the horror in her voice.  "Yes.  No.  I 
don't know.  I didn't know you.  And even if I had, I 
wouldn't have known.  Not really.  You don't understand the 
things that I see.  Parents who murder their children.  
Children who kill their parents.  Lovers.  Husbands and 
wives.  It's not a nice world, Cat.  Evil doesn't always 
wear an ugly face.  Sometimes it can look like the most 
beautiful person in the world."

"I thought Brandon was evil," she whispered.  "But he 
wasn't.  He was just a silly little boy who thought he 
deserved to get whatever he wanted.  He wasn't evil.  But 
he met evil, didn't he?  He met evil."

As Rizzo watched, she hunched over, holding on to her ribs.  
Tears rolled down her cheeks.  "Come here," he groaned as 
he tugged her into his arms.

She sobbed, her head tucked into his neck, and her hands 
fisting his shirt.

"Shhh," he crooned anxiously, his arms not wanting to ever 
let her go.  "It'll be all right.  Shhh."

*****

Cat lay still, her body limp, in Detective Rizzo's arms.  
Her mind, however, was working overtime.  It would be so 
easy to get comfort, she thought.  At least it had been in 
her former life.  All she had to do was sniffle a bit more, 
relax into him a bit more, and he would respond.  She knew 
he would.  Practically everyone she'd ever targeted had 
responded.  Well, everyone except Clark, she thought with a 
hidden wry grin.  But she would think about Clark later.

Men's bodies had always come cheap to her.  Their hearts 
had never been a concern before.  Not even Brandon's, she 
realised with a jolt of surprise.  

She didn't have the right to go after this man's heart. He 
was special.  He was different, and she didn't even know 
why.

Cat pulled herself reluctantly from Rizzo's embrace, 
embarrassed and saddened by her automatic response to his 
closeness.  She sighed.  She felt shaky and numb and 
terribly sad, but at least she had managed to stop crying.

How kind of Detective Rizzo to comfort her.  These messy 
emotional responses of hers couldn't be what he was hoping 
for when he'd agreed to let her help.  And she'd bet that 
he wasn't expecting her to try to seduce him either.  
Swallowing a lump in her throat, she took a deep breath and 
struggled to be professional.  "Have there been any similar 
murders in the area?"

He nodded.  "There was that John Doe that turned up a 
couple of days ago, but I don't think these cases are 
related.  He was, um, a lot more mutilated than Chesney."

Cat looked down, hiding her embarrassment.  "I didn't read 
about him.  I guess I was too upset to keep up with the 
news."

Rizzo grinned.  "Aren't you worried I might report that to 
Lane and Kent?  It was their story."

Cat glanced over at him and giggled as she shook her head 
in response.  His quick response had lightened her mood.  

He was a really nice guy to try to cheer her up, and he was 
funny, sensitive, intelligent and not half-bad to look at 
either.  In fact, he was pretty darned good to look at.  
Dark hair, dark eyes, a dangerous hint of five o'clock 
shadow, great build, tall, and he carried himself well - 
self-confident but not swaggering or arrogant.  The guy had 
a definite presence.

But what did that matter?  How in the world could a guy 
like Joe ever be interested in an over-the-top gossip 
columnist with way too many notches on her bedpost?  He had 
too much machismo to ever forgive her past.  She'd known 
guys like him before and, after a couple of messy scenes, 
had always avoided dating his kind of man.

If she wanted to, she could seduce him.  She knew she 
could.  If she wanted, she could have this man in her bed.  
He was attracted to her.  She knew it.  But it would be 
purely physical, and suddenly that wasn't enough.  

Part of her ached for his warm solid flesh, desperate to 
lose herself in his embrace, anxious to swamp her feelings 
under, plastering them over with physical sensation.  But 
she couldn't do it, she realised, fighting against the 
insidious tug of deeply ingrained habits.

She was in real danger of losing herself completely with 
Rizzo.  Far better for her to back off and play it cool and 
professional.  Safer. 

This man could hurt her where it counted.  He could hurt 
her heart.  Chesney hadn't, she suddenly realised.  He'd 
only hurt her pride.  

"So, why don't you think the cases are related?" she asked, 
striving to regain some small amount of professionalism.

He shrugged.  "Superficially, they do resemble each other, 
but there is one big difference.  The first victim was much 
more mutilated."  He grimaced.  "He had his fingers cut 
off, and his teeth pulled.  His face was unrecognizable, as 
he'd also been beaten to a pulp.  Someone didn't want us to 
know who he was."

Cat shuddered.  She thought hard for a moment.  "What if," 
she asked hesitantly, "the only difference was that the 
killer didn't want anyone to know who the first guy was, 
but didn't care who knew about Brandon?"

Rizzo rubbed his chin slowly.  "That's possible, I guess."

"Did the same coroner do each autopsy?"

"No."

"I bet Brandon's body hasn't been released yet."

"Yes, that's true."

"So why not ask the coroner who did the John Doe to have a 
look at Brandon to see if any of the wounds look the same?"

He smiled and pulled out his cell phone.  "That's a very 
good idea."

Cat settled back on the couch and watched as Rizzo 
forcefully ploughed through red tape at the coroner's 
office.  It took quite a few minutes, but eventually he 
switched off his phone and turned to face her.

"Lucky that the doc we need is on duty tonight," he told 
her.  "He said he'd get back to me in an hour or two."

"That's great!" she exclaimed.  "So, do you want to wait 
here for the call?"  Her heart was in her mouth as she 
waited for his response, hoping that he'd be willing to 
stay.  Scared that he'd want to stay.

Rizzo checked his watch and smiled.  "It's still early.  
I'd love to."

"Good!"  Her eyes met his for one brief exciting second, 
before she looked down.  She felt heat flooding through her 
cheeks.  She hadn't blushed since ninth grade!  "Would you 
like another beer, or can I make you some coffee?

An hour later, they were both on their second cups of 
coffee.  Their conversation had meandered from what it was 
like for Cat to work at the Planet to the everyday routine 
- or lack thereof - of a detective in the Metropolis P.D.

They had discovered that they'd gone to rival high schools, 
different colleges and didn't hang out at the same clubs.  

He'd laughed heartily when Cat had started to compare the 
merits of her favourite rhythm and blues to Joe's country 
and western.  She had laughed at the sour look on his face 
when she'd finished.

That seemed to exhaust the conversation for a while, both 
of them falling silent.  She looked down at her hands, all 
the while conscious of his solid masculine presence beside 
her.

"How did you meet him?" Rizzo asked, his voice soft and 
non-judgemental.

She smiled a little sadly as she remembered.  "At a party," 
she answered.   "It was a real mob scene.  It had been fun 
for a while, but I wanted to leave early.  That's unusual 
for me, but I was just too uncomfortable."

At his silent questioning look, she expanded on her 
feelings.  "It wasn't my bag.  I can handle people 
drinking, but there was too much.   And in practically 
every corner of the room, I could see people huddled 
together, sniffing coke or shooting up.  I don't like that.  
It makes people too unpredictable."

"Yeah, I'll say!" Rizzo exclaimed, his words heartfelt.

"One guy - a very respectable stock broker - had already 
smacked his girlfriend because she'd been flirting with 
another man.  It had changed the whole mood of the place.   
There was so much anger in that house I felt as though I 
was choking for air. "

She shook her head and glanced at him quickly before 
looking down at her clasped hands.  "I was scared.  And I 
got more scared when I tried to leave, and a lawyer who  - 
well, I won't go into details, but let's just say I had 
rejected him once and he never forgot it.  Anyway, I tried 
to leave, and he blocked the door - asked me what my damn 
hurry was.

"The other people around us, they looked awful.  I looked 
at them and in their faces, I saw rage and lust and 
cruelty.  They wanted something to happen to me just so 
they could watch!  I've never been in a situation like that 
before, and I never want to again."

Rizzo reached out and gently took her cold hand in his.

She smiled at him weakly and continued.  "I tried talking 
my way out, but that just seemed to make him angrier.  I 
was just starting to panic when Brandon was there.  He took 
my arm, said something mild - so mild I don't even remember 
what it was - and waltzed me out of there like I was a 
princess."

She gazed blankly at her hand, lost in Rizzo's warm grasp.  
"He made me feel special.  He always made me feel special 
until the day he made me realise I really wasn't."

"Bull-feathers!" Rizzo exclaimed.

"Bull-feathers?  Is that a word?"  Cat reared back on the 
couch and stared at the detective.

To her surprise, he blushed.  Grinning, he explained, 
"Well, it's a word now.  Blame it on my sister having 
little kids.  I can't talk like I want around them!"

She laughed in delight at the mental picture of this big, 
tough guy having kids crawl all over him.  For a second, a 
wave of yearning swept through her.  It was such a good 
picture, a normal picture.

But it wasn't for her.

Her smile faded and she tucked her hands into her armpits, 
feeling more naked and vulnerable than she'd ever felt 
before.

Rizzo reached out and lightly grasped her chin.  Tipping 
her face up to meet her eyes with his, he repeated softly, 
"Like I said before, bull-feathers.  You are special.   
You're the most special woman I've ever met."

She lost herself in the dark, warm depths of his eyes.  
"That's very kind of you..."

"I'm not just being kind."  His hand touched her hair and 
then her cheek, a fleeting touch leaving heat in its wake.

She watched, her eyes locked on his firm mouth as his 
weight shifted.  It was a small move, but he started to 
lean forward, towards her...

And his cell phone rang.

Rizzo muttered a muffled curse and answered it.

Cat pressed her cold hands against her warm cheeks, trying 
to regain her composure.  She listened anxiously as he 
greeted the coroner.  

He frustrated her by only answering in grunts and mumbled 
'Mmmm hmmms.'  She tried to read his body language and 
facial expressions, but he was so poker-faced and 
impassive, she couldn't get any sense of what he was 
thinking.  By the time he ended his call, she was 
practically crawling out of her skin, her next to non-
existent patience completely exhausted.

"So?  What did he say?" she asked.

"You were right.  The doc said it looked like it was one 
killer.  He's going to analyse things a little more for us 
- measure wound depth, that kind of thing - but his 
preliminary findings say that the same guy did both 
murders."  Rizzo shook his head.  "Good thinking, Cat.  I'm 
impressed."

"Thanks."

He looked at his watch.  "It's too late for me to go back 
to work and pull information on the John Doe.  What do you 
say we get together tomorrow night and go over that file?"

She looked away.  "I don't know."

"Is this because I nearly kissed you?"

She ran her hands through her hair.  "Yes.  No.  Maybe.  I 
don't know."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

She gazed at him in surprise.

"It's too soon for you...  You're still grieving for 
Chesney."

Was she? she wondered.  She must be.  He'd been such a big 
part of her life for months now.  But had she really known 
him as well as she'd thought she had?  Was she grieving the 
loss of Brandon or the loss of her dreams?

She must be.  She couldn't be so completely shallow as to 
be over him yet.  Which meant that these feelings she had 
for Rizzo were definitely rebound feelings, which meant 
that she really had to rein herself in.  It wouldn't be 
right to use him only to make herself feel better.  She'd 
done that in the past; she never wanted to do it again.

"I do want to work with you, Cat," Rizzo continued.  
"You've proven to me that you're a great investigator!  
You've come up with a whole new take on things.  That's a 
huge help."  He took a deep breath.  "Say you'll keep 
working with me.  I promise I'll behave."

The problem was Cat wasn't sure she wanted him to behave!  
"All right," she said reluctantly.  Hopefully.  Fearfully.

"How about we meet here again, and I'll bring dinner?  
Sound good?"

She nodded.

"Great!  You won't be sorry."

She hoped he wouldn't be either.

*****

"So what you're saying, Clark, is we have one middle-aged 
jerk who went to the University of North Weehawken because 
that's the only place he could buy himself a degree, and 
then after graduating, he didn't do anything more than 
attend a whole bunch of society wing dings, chase women and 
get pie-eyed every other night?"

"That's pretty much it, Lois," Clark admitted ruefully.  
"Except for the part about him being a dyed-in-the-wool 
schmuck who treated anyone who wasn't in his social circle 
as if they didn't deserve to breathe the same air as him."

She grimaced.  "Hard to bring myself to care whether he got 
knocked off or not."

He shrugged and ran his hands through his hair.  "I know 
what you mean.  The only interesting thing about him is his 
friendship with Rahsanjani."

"But it wasn'