Smallville Players II: The Next Steps By Barb Pillsbury Rated: PG Submitted: October 2002 This story is the sequel to Smallville Players (posted on archives 8/18), an elsewhere fanfic that puts a host of Metropolis characters into Smallville of 1993. Lois and Clark are high school teachers who have a passion for social justice and community theatre as well as each other. I want to especially thank Anne for BRing this story and for being there for me each and every day. When I faltered, she was always there to pick me up and push me onward. I also want to thank Raquel, Doug, and Meredith for the special information I needed and to those who constantly nagged me to get this sequel out. I need to also thank the "evil ones" without whose inspiration I couldn't have developed a slightly evil bent to the cliffhangers. As always I need to thank Erin, Bethy, Tricia, and LabRat whose help and encouragement when I was just starting, got me to where I am now. Citations regarding specialized material utilized will be found at the end of the story, as will the usual disclaimers. Part 1 The detective, a rather short man in his early fifties wearing a three- piece striped suit, whose odd figure could only be described as somewhat pear-shaped, twisted his thickly waxed moustache and paced up and down the dining car of the train, keenly looking at the variety of suspects who sat skeptically in front of him. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he said with a slight French accent. "You are all aware that the repulsive murderer has *himself* been repulsively and perhaps deservedly murdered. How and why?" he asked, placing several pieces of evidence on the table to his left. "Here is the simple answer," he continued, once again facing the retinue of suspects. Barb Friskin held her head up and looked the detective in the eye, apparently daring him to make an accusation. Jimmy Olsen put his arm around Cindy Brady, whose face showed her apprehension as she looked up at Jimmy, anxiously craving his support. Keith Haley laced and unlaced his fingers, keeping his head down, afraid of what the detective was going to say. Beatrice Drake looked across the room at her friend, Martha Kent, while trying to be strong. Martha, her face partially covered by a veiled hat, was not letting her feelings be seen as she eyed Jonathan sitting next to the table displaying several articles yet to be explained. Donald Botts stood solidly against the door of the dining car, his face stoically denying that he had any emotions at all. Cat Grant glanced worriedly over at Dan Scardino and then back to Wayne Irig while Lois Lane and Clark Kent sitting close together with their hands linked tightly, looked cautiously at each other and then back to the detective awaiting his declarations. The train whistle blew shrilly as it signaled the supposed arrival of the additional locomotive with the icebreaker attached securely and menacingly to its face. The metallic sound of the claw-like apparatus, whose job it would be to dislodge the train from its trapped position within a massively large snow drift, echoed loudly, causing the Calais Coach passengers to fidget uncomfortably in their seats. The Belgium Detective paced up and down once again, dragging out his expository statement dramatically and interminably to those in wait. Among those in wait was an audience of 120 people sitting around tables in the large banquet room on the second floor of Lex Luthor's Smallville Bank building on this fairly stormy November evening. The capacity crowd was watching very intently as the actors continued with their Agatha Christie classic. The whistle blew once more while the characters on the stage looked predictably from one to the other. Bill Saxon, the actor who had been with the Smallville Players for all of its nineteen years and was tonight portraying the world-renown detective, Hercule Poirot, took up the dagger that he had recently placed on the table and fingered its sharpness. He then carefully and calculatingly looked back at the suspects one by one, attempting to, once again, draw out the suspense. The train whistle blew yet another time. Bill, the retired high school drama teacher who looked much younger than his years--and who was Martha's favorite actor of the group--had not botched a line. It had been quite a long time since this sixty-eight year old man had taken on a role of such massive proportions. He had been sure that he would not be able to manage a part that required him to deliver what amounted to sixty percent of all the lines of this rather large-cast show. But he was succeeding and he was just about to get to the climax. His heart was beating rapidly as he thought about what lie ahead. What he had to do next was going to be hard, very hard; but there he was, just steps away from completing his part. It was during this next segment that he was required to hold fort and deliver a fifteen minute monologue with no other actor's input other than an occasional assent. He drew in a breath and stepped decisively toward the other actors. The elegantly dressed spectators, who appeared to lean forward as they waited for the murderer to be exposed, had all been specially invited by Lex Luthor to this presentation of the Smallville Players as a major fundraiser. The dinner theatre production of "Murder on the Orient Express" had been running for almost two hours and was now moving inevitably along toward its intricate conclusion. Lex Luthor, who was sitting at the table with the mayor, the mayor's wife, and Lex's companion, Mayson Drake, was also acting a part, even more so than those on the stage in front of him. He was portraying the role of the philanthropist who was incredibly interested in Smallville and in the play unfolding this evening. His face expressed appreciation but inwardly he couldn't wait for this tedious presentation to end, and was instead considering the steps he was to take to finally get all that he desired. On stage, the tension was heightening as the detective started the explanation of the crime--the expected scene that was present in most murder mysteries but written so eloquently by everyone's favorite mystery writer, Agatha Christie. The lights dimmed ever so slightly on the others while the special light aimed at the detective remained brighter to emphasize his speech, and he began. Bill/Hercule Poirot: There is evidence supporting the theory that the murderer was a stranger to us all. (Places the dagger once more on the table.) Mrs. Hubbard (The detective points to Barb/Mrs. Hubbard.) was conscious of a man in her compartment soon after 1:15 a.m. She later found near her bedside the button of a conductor. (The detective eyes Keith/McQueen, the victim's secretary who was sitting next to the train's conductor.) Keith/McQueen (Shows the strain on his face and nervously bites his fingernails as he watches and listens to the master detective render his view of the crime.) Keith, as always, was really into his role. His characterization of the weak young male secretary whose tentativeness belied his part in the crime was right on the mark. Keith had recently come out to his friends, high- school classmates, and the community; but this was the first time that Keith was portraying a homosexual character on stage. He and Martha, as director, had spent a lot of time discussing that this character would not be over the top but would simply display an insecurity, a characterization that Keith could identify with but one that he had recently left behind. Barb Friskin was concentrating on her role as the brash Mrs. Hubbard and attempting to react as Martha Kent had directed her. This was Barb's first venture into acting and she was pleased that Clark and Lois had talked her into it. As the high school counselor, she understood motivation, and found that this diversion was something that came easy to her and that served another purpose. She took the opportunity, as the detective held center stage, to look out into the audience briefly. Barb tried to make out where Lex Luthor was sitting. Although she couldn't see him because of the bank of lights aimed at the actors, she had a feeling where he was, as his evilness seemed to radiate outward. She took a step toward the front of the stage and turned back just slightly to regard the detective as he continued to speak. Bill/Hercule Poirot: Then we have Frauline Schmidt (The detective indicates Beatrice/Frauline Schmidt.) who discovered, planted in her suitcase, the uniform of a conductor which could not possibly have fitted Pierre; from which, in fact, there was a button missing. Pierre/Wayne Irig: (Looks at Beatrice/Frauline Schmidt.) Beatrice Drake, high school secretary, an eight-year member of the Smallville Players, was pleased that her daughter, Mayson, was at long last seeing her on stage albeit in the role of a maid and a possible murderer. Although Mayson had attempted to make it back to Smallville in time for the last performance of their previous play in October, once again Mayson had explained to her mother that she had found she was needed elsewhere. So now Mayson was watching her mother act for the first time. Mayson was a lawyer who most recently had been employed by the Space and Aeronautical Museum. She had chosen that job even though it meant that she was relegated to negotiating contracts related to bequeaths, because it had placed her in Washington D.C. where she had hoped to move up the ladder to more important positions. Mayson had gone back east to college and then law school, and therefore had not lived in Smallville for the last eight years. She did not see herself as a Kansas lawyer and was hopeful that she would quickly be placed into the governmental scene at the federal level. It had not happened, however, and she had decided to return to Smallville when she had inadvertently discovered that her hometown was on the list of extra terrestrial activity that Bureau 39 had been investigating many years before and had reactivated because of Superman's appearance on the scene. Mayson had contacted Lex Luthor and passed on the information, knowing that having Lex on her side would help in making her way to the top. The new investigation, which began less than one month ago, had gone awry. So what was keeping Mayson in Smallville? Beatrice wondered, even though she was glad to see her daughter. Knowing that she was out there with Lex Luthor infuriated her. Beatrice's husband had been a partner of Lex's and had been serving the eighth year of a twenty-year sentence for mail fraud, embezzlement, and extortion. Beatrice visited her husband consistently but during the last six months, she had found her husband's despair had finally eaten away at his soul and at who he had been. He was no longer the wonderful husband and father that she had remembered, and three months ago he had died alone in his jail cell. Beatrice had never believed that her husband had been guilty. Instead, she lay the guilt right at the feet of Lex Luthor. Beatrice knew there were steps to take to seek revenge. Revenge was something that had never been in Beatrice's vocabulary until she had met Lex Luthor. Beatrice pondered. They were almost to that part in the script. Bill/Hercule Poirot: And, in the trouser pocket of the uniform, there was a conductor's pass key (The detective adds the key to the growing pile of evidence.) Clark/Colonel Arbuthnott (Rises to look over the detective's shoulder at the array of incriminating pieces of evidence that the detective had placed on the table and then returns to stand beside Lois/Mary Debenham, putting his hand on her shoulder.) Clark looked around at the actors. Once more he was enjoying being with this group, and especially with Lois. Although in this play, they carried minor parts, they again had the opportunity to play lovers. During the last play, "The Male Animal," Clark and Lois held the leads depicting a married couple who had had some decisions to face. The choices they had made allowed the couple both on and off stage to learn about love, trust, and support. Enacting those parts had brought Lois and Clark to a very special place. They were in love. Their relationship had grown quickly as they supported Keith Haley, tackled the school board together, and used the play to make a statement to the community. They had found out that they shared so much; and even though Lois had a fear that she was incapable of being loved and Clark had a secret that he had not been ready to divulge, both had reached out to each other and their friendship flourished, as did their romance. Clark looked down at Lois. She was so incredibly lovely and *he* was so incredibly lucky to have found her, to have discovered a woman that he could share everything with and that he could reveal...but the detective was revealing something. Clark shook off his thoughts, as wonderful as they were, and turned his attention back to the detective. Bill/Hercule Poirot: (Turns to Barb/Mrs. Hubbard, saying the following.) Later still, Mrs. Hubbard discovered *this* blood stained dagger (The detective holds up the dagger and then once more places it gingerly on the table.) which Dr. Constantine (The detective glances at Jonathan/Dr. Constantine.) confirms could have been the murderer's weapon. Lois/Mary Debenham: (Touches Clark/Colonel Arbuthnott's hand which is on her shoulder and smiles hopefully up at him.) Lois Lane had begun to feel at home. She had found a place in what she had originally called Nowheresville. She had found people that respected her work, and she had found love. Lois Lane had found love--a love built on an ever- deepening friendship. Each and every day Clark Kent had proven himself a friend and the man that truly loved her. Someone loved her! Lois pictured Thoreau's quotation hanging on the wall of the small house that she rented. "Friends...they cherish one another's hopes. They are kind to one another's dreams." Clark was just that type of friend to her and here she was once more, enjoying a passion they shared--theatre. Although Lois loved being in the play, she was angry that Lex Luthor was benefiting by the group's performance. She loathed and despised that man. He had raised a son who had physically attacked her and who had attempted to hurt others. Luthor had also tried to force a detestable policy down the throat of an unknowing and na‹ve school board--a policy that would have dire consequences. And, although she knew that Lex had been attracted to her when they first met, she had regretfully allowed herself to share a supposed business dinner with him in his apartment, where he had tried to molest her. Then, most heinous of all, Lex Luthor had masterminded that...that...dastardly scheme.... But she had to step away from these thoughts and focus back to the detective who was about to reveal the murderer of an equally amoral and nefarious individual. Bill/Hercule Poirot: The obvious implication is that the murderer, disguised as a conductor, boarded the train at Belgrade and made his way by means of the convenient pass key to Rachett's compartment, stabbed him to death, planted the dagger and the uniform, and departed, since the train was halted in the snow drift. Who was he? (Pauses looking around and slowly sits.) I'm inclined to agree with Mr. Fascarelli... Dan/Fascarelli: Ha! (Nodding.) Dan Scardino delivered his "Ha!" with gusto and, although continuing to apparently concentrate on the detective, allowed his mind to wander. He remembered when he first met Lois Lane in the teacher's lounge last September. Dan enjoyed his job as physical education teacher at the high school but he had never met someone as committed to teaching as Lois Lane, other than, of course, Mr. Goody- two-shoes, Clark Kent. He glanced over at her. He could make out Lois' beautiful face and see the brightness in her eyes, a brightness that was not there for him, but for Clark. He had once been a rival for her affections. Well, not really. He and Lois had dated but he knew right from the start that his role as suitor had been negligible and he could never be Clark's rival. But Dan couldn't dwell on what might have been and he placed attention back on the detective who was continuing by agreeing with Dan's character. Bill/Hercule Poirot: ...who believes that he was a rival member of the Mafia exacting private vengeance for a vendetta whose precise nature the Yugoslav police will undoubtedly identify. Beatrice thought. Vengeance! Barb reminded herself, There was a silence among all the actors as they let the audience digest that tidbit. Martha had told the actors to take a count of three and she was pleased that they had remembered. This play had been such an interesting one to direct, especially as she had to play one of the roles. Martha noticed that the audience was breathlessly waiting for the next line. In the audience, Mayson Drake placed her hand on Lex's. He turned and she could see from the reflected stage lights that he smiled at her. Lex had told her that he planned to announce to the community that he and Mayson had flown to Paris three nights ago where they were married. She was now Mrs. Lex Luthor. That had been the hard part. Now the next step would be easy and her plan would work. On stage Martha smiled to herself; the dramatic pause had worked. Jonathan/Dr. Constantine. Is...is...that all? Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief as he delivered his last line in the play. He was not an actor and thankfully he only had a few lines to deliver. He had only agreed to take on the role simply because Martha had asked him to. He'd worked with his hands and enjoyed building the sets and setting up the lighting and sound systems. But he was needed on stage because the cast had such a large number of men, and as Martha had explained to him, men in community theatre were always hard to come by. His wife had done what many people thought would be impossible. She had created a very viable community theatre in a small town where talent and men would be at a premium. She had created a legacy. He looked over at his wife with pride in his eyes. She was a remarkable woman whom he had loved for over thirty years. She was intelligent, creative, and committed to everything she had passion for. He believed that he was so fortunate to be one of the things she was passionate about. She cared so deeply for him and for their son. Jonathan glanced over at Clark. He knew that his wife had only had one regret in her life--that she had been incapable of bearing children. Jonathan had been there for her, holding on to her desperately as her body was racked with sobs when they had found out. His tears had flowed unabashedly as well, but he knew he could never feel what his wife was feeling that day. But he had shared the joy she had felt when she first held Clark in her arms. That day in May, twenty-seven years ago, when the baby had entered their lives and made those lives complete. He looked over at his wife and saw the delight Martha exuded in her eyes as she glanced over at Clark and Lois. Jonathan understood that Martha was finally getting the response she craved to one unanswered concern in her life--would Clark, because he was so special, always be alone? Jonathan knew that Lois was, indeed, the one; and he was grateful for her existence and that she chose to come to Smallville and love his son. Jonathan smiled to himself. His wife had created another legacy. Jonathan knew that his son was very special. He had known it for a long time. But it was not his powers that made him special, it was the fact that he had had Martha as a mother. And now that Clark had found someone, he would get married and have children of his own--and the legacy would continue. If Jonathan knew nothing else, he knew that. Jonathan also knew that even though he had no more lines, he was required to react to the process on stage. He watched the other actors react to his line and then turn to the detective to hear his reply to the question about whether this was all there was to the crime; and he, too, turned to face the detective. Bill/Hercule Poirot: No, no, no, no, no. No, it is not. I said here was the *simple* answer. There is also a more complex one. (Rises and paces in front of the suspects once more stopping to face them.) Remember my first solution after you have heard my second. Martha was hoping that the audience was following the intricateness of the plot. The detective was providing the audience with a choice. A simple answer to the murder of the evil Mr. Ratchett--that of a mysterious intruder who had donned the uniform of a conductor and had sneaked into the victim's train compartment, stabbing him, and who had just as surreptitiously fled the train into the snow; or a more compelling, convoluted, apropos solution he was about to unravel. Bill/Hercule Poirot: Let us for the moment assume what is perfectly possible--that the mysterious stranger did *not* exist. Barb/Mrs. Hubbard (Sits down next to Cindy/Elena Andrenyi and then returns her gaze to the detective, who obviously was smarter than Mrs. Hubbard's character suspected.) Cindy had been through much the last two months. Her boyfriend Jaxon Luthor had tried to kill her and she had learned how vicious he was. Although he had faced the consequences of his actions and tried to get out from the clutches of his father, she realized that she didn't need him, even though he was the son of the richest man in town. She had grown up a lot and she now saw that living in a trailer with her mother in the poorest part of town was no longer the disgrace that she thought it was; and consorting with the son of the man who had caused her father's death and relegated Cindy and her mother to poverty, was not the answer to her dreams. The answers were yet to come, as were the steps to gain those answers. Right now she and the rest of the cast were waiting for the detective to profess his more complicated answer. Bill/Hercule Poirot: The murder must then have been committed by some person or persons in the Calais coach (The detective paces away from them and therefore is present in this dining car. (He turns to confront them.) Cat/Greta (Takes out a handkerchief from her pocket and starts twisting it.) Donald/Beddoes (Glances just briefly over at Clark/Colonel Arbuthnott, showing some concern before he quickly regains composure.) Donald Botts found himself in a role that was very unique for him. His usual part called for blustering, arguing, yelling, or being the comic relief through sarcasm and obnoxious behavior. Tonight he was playing a refined, sedate butler. He smiled to himself. he thought. But Agatha Christie was far above cliches. She had penned a more unique murder plot than Donald could have written, and he put his attention on the detective who was moving them slowly but surely toward Christie's resolution. Lois/Mary Debenham (Looks worriedly up at Clark/Colonel Arbuthnott.) Jimmy/Count Andrenyi (Once again puts his arm around Cindy/Elena Andrenyi.) Bill/Hercule Poirot: Let us not for the moment ask the question how; but the question why, which will tell us how and who the murderer is... Suddenly, there was a blackout and all the stage lights went off, plunging the entire room into abject darkness. The audience started to laugh assuming this was part of the play they had been thoroughly enjoying. Applause erupted from the group of dinner theatre guests, but the applause died down as it began to appear that the blackout was not part of the act and that the lights were not coming on again too soon. "Ladies and Gentlemen," Jonathan Kent's voice rang out. "There must be a problem with fuses. It may be the storm. Just sit tight and we will soon have it fixed." "I'll help you, Dad," Clark suggested, moving quickly next to his father and guiding him off the darkened stage toward the fuse box that was located just behind the door leading to the stairwell. "Guests," Lex Luther's voice was heard as he stood up by his table toward the front of the room. "This has been a wonderful production thus far and I'm sure that Mr. Kent will be able to...achh," he groaned and stumbled awkwardly toward the stage. Clark heard Luther's moan and instantly, under the cover of the darkness, came to his side. The lights came back on, and as everyone's eyes adjusted quickly to the brightness, they could see Lex Luthor lying dead in a pool of blood with Clark's hand on the play's dagger that protruded from his back. "I've heard of being upstaged," Donald Botts yelled out. "But this is ridiculous." * * * Three weeks earlier: Clark Kent, history teacher, walked down the long blue hallway of Smallville High School. He was at the school rather early, as usual, so he could reflect on what lie ahead for him. The sound of the high school marching band during early morning practice was ever present in the background as they attempted the music from "Phantom of the Opera." But this time there wasn't the lonely, solitary sound of Clark's footsteps echoing alone along the corridor, as there always had been during the three years that he had taught there. Another set of footsteps joined his, because walking next to him was the woman he knew to be the love of his life, Lois Lane. Lois had come to Smallville High School as the new English teacher this year. She had been his mentee, which meant that he was supposed to show her around and acquaint her with school procedures. He was supposed to teach her, but she had taught him. She had taught him that as Lois' favorite author had written, "Don't just be good, be good for something." Henry David Thoreau had put it succinctly and Lois had taken it to heart. She was not only a good teacher but she stood up for what she believed in and had pushed Clark to do the same. As a result, he found that he was thriving. Thriving because he was looking at possibilities through her eyes. Clark looked into her beautiful eyes as she glanced up at him. She had done so much for him. Lois had not only given him a way to be a better Clark Kent. She had also shown him how to use his powers by becoming Superman. Unbeknownst to her, she had created a second persona--one that used super powers for truth and justice yet allowed a sense of anonymity so that a high school teacher in Smallville Kansas could live a normal life. Not really quite normal anymore, though, because that Kansas high school teacher was in love. His only regret was that he had to keep that second persona from her. He had to protect her. If she knew that he had become the Man of Steel, a description he remained uncomfortable with, she could get hurt. But just as he knew he loved her, he knew that one day, very soon, he had to tell her. Their relationship couldn't move onward based upon a lie. Lois and Clark continued down the hallway currently devoid of students, toward the teacher's lounge. The hallway looked much as it did in September but the posters had changed. Instead of welcoming students back to school, they publicized this weekend's Corn Festival. There were several posters saying, 'Vote for Cindy Brady for Corn Queen,' and several that touted 'Michelle Richards for Queen.' Lois felt like she was back in high school as she looked up at Clark and he smiled warmly down at her. He was wearing jeans and a denim shirt, and she was wearing a cotton flowered dress. The faculty and students were supposed to be wearing country attire as part of the Corn Festival. So, the two looked like young high school kids as they walked past all the school lockers, holding hands with their fingers intertwined. Lois thought. High school wasn't this good. Lois knew that she had never had a friendship or a relationship like this. Clark was her best friend, as well as her boyfriend, and as such, their relationship had the one wonderful thing that none of her previous relationships had had--trust. The two teachers had a lot to think about as they made their way to the Teachers' lounge at the end of the hall. Last night's opening of "The Male Animal" by the Smallville Players had given the community pause for thought just as Lois had predicted. The school board was meeting this morning, and from what the members had said after last evening's performance, they were going to vote down school board president Lex Luthor's abhorrent policy. The board had understood the message of the play and realized that academic freedom and the ability to allow students to learn to think and to appreciate and even celebrate differences was not something to shut down, but instead something to be encouraged. Passing by a familiar door, Lois opened it. "Lois," Clark said quizzically. "You know that this is the..." "I sure do," Lois said teasingly and pulled him into the janitorial closet. Lois put her arms around him and pulled him in for a kiss. Not protesting at all, Clark returned the kiss and deepened it when Lois parted her lips slightly to invite him in. He pulled back and looked at her through the dimness. "If I knew this is what would have happened in the closet, I wouldn't have corrected your error last month," he said, laughing. "Who would have thought," Lois said to him, "that just over a month after we met, we would be doing this," she said as she continued kissing him, pushing him up against the wall again. "Hey, careful," he pleaded. "Remember we have a performance to give tonight, tomorrow, and Sunday. I'm not sure I can make it if you deplete my energy like this." "Well, be glad that there's only a half-day of school because of the Corn Festival," Lois reminded him. "Maybe you could rest before the performance," Lois said, putting her head on his chest. "Oh, no," Clark informed her. "We are going to the Corn Festival this afternoon and I'm going to show you what living in Nowheresville is really like." He drew her back into his arms and kissed her again. "Clark," Lois whispered into his kiss. "I love you." There, she had said it. Lois Lane had professed her love. She had taken the chance. It wasn't as she had dreamed--a sunset on a beautiful beach, a powerful financial wizard who had flown her off to Barbados, two glasses of champagne. There she was in Smallville, Kansas, in a closet off a high school hallway with a gentle, mild- mannered history teacher. But somehow she knew it was perfect. "Lois," Clark whispered, cupping his hand on the side of her face and stroking her lips with his thumb. "There's something I want to tell you." "Hmmm," Lois murmured, kissing his neck and starting to nibble up toward his ear. He was going to tell her loved her, too. She never felt so... "But not here and not now," he said softly but firmly and pushed her gently away. "Tonight after the performance, can we get some time alone? Uh, but first I...I...forgot I have a barber's appointment," he said suddenly, pushing her even further away from him and opening the door to the closet. "I'll be back soon." Lois watched him run off down the hallway and she leaned back against the wall of the closet. she thought furiously as she straightened up. Lois stormed angrily out of the closet, slamming the door, and walked down the hallway alone. She was in love, but love wasn't easy. It sometimes hurt and she was hurting now. Tears of anger welled up in her eyes. She marched up the stairs to the second floor. As she reached the door to her classroom, the anger was waning and was being replaced by sadness and pain. She opened the door and slowly walked into her classroom. On her desk was her dog-eared copy of "Walden." Lois had always looked to Thoreau's "Civil Disobedience" for strength and to "Walden" for solace and comfort. Lois opened the book to a random page and put her finger on a paragraph. "A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener. So our prospects brighten on the influx of better thoughts," she read aloud. She had to replace her skepticism, her fear, with better thoughts. As she hugged the book to her chest, Lois remembered another Thoreau quotation, one that she was beginning to feel she would have to keep close to her. "There is no remedy for love but to love more." And with that kind of love came trust. She had to trust her own feelings and trust that Clark really loved her. she mused, shutting the book, her feelings having a tug of war inside her. Whenever they got close to any type of commitment, he ran off. This running off was becoming more than just annoying. She was going to have to confront Clark about it. She *was* sure that Clark loved her. And love meant trust, yet this trust was beginning to wear thin. Love also meant sharing, and there was something that Clark was holding back, something that he was not sharing with her. She could sense it. She was beginning to know Clark very well and there was something she couldn't put her finger on--something yet to be discovered about him, something that troubled him. Maybe that was what he was going to tell her? Lois knew that their love had developed quickly, but at the same time she knew it was right--the most right thing she had ever done, and she wasn't going to let anything happen to it. She had almost let it get away when she had turned from Clark to Dan, but being in the play together had thrown her and Clark back on track and she was beginning to feel she was moving toward something that she didn't want to stop. But maybe Clark was the one that wanted to stop it. Maybe that was why he kept running away whenever they got close to moving their relationship to the next step. But last night he had said he was *ready* for the next step. "There is no remedy for love but to love more," she said aloud again. She walked slowly toward the window. The autumn morning was beautiful. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the changing leaves of the maple tree by the window had turned to a glorious shade of gold that stood out against the sky's bright blue. She saw a flash of red and blue whoosh by. Superman was out there. But her mind was not on a superhero, although she cared about him and had at one point had fantasies about him. Her mind was on Clark. Lois *had* to trust Clark. She knew he loved her. She had seen the look in his eyes, heard the passion in his voice. She would simply have to love him more and wait--wait for him to take the next step that he promised. But what was stopping him? If it wasn't fear of commitment, it had to be something else. * * * Barb Friskin sat in her office. She glanced out the window at the marching band that had moved from rehearsing "Phantom of the Opera" to "Cats." Barb opened her purse and took out the picture of her sister and herself. They were so young there, not a care in the world. They were just children with their whole lives ahead of them. Opening her desk drawer, she took out a more recent picture. The worn photograph was of three women in front of the marquis at the Winter Garden Theatre in Metropolis. One older woman with two younger, almost identical images, flanking her on each side, smiled somewhat pathetically back at Barb. The marquis said "Cats." She looked out the window yet again and listened to the band playing "Memory." Then she glanced down at the latest picture and turned it over. December 21, 1983, it read--almost ten years ago. Barb looked closely at her sister's face. The extreme sadness was obvious in the shadows under her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks. She had lost twenty pounds then and both Barb and their mother had drilled her about the weight loss because Ann had previously been a size six. There seemed to be nothing left of her. Ann had scoffed at her mother and sister since both Barb and her mom could best be described as ample, and hinted at something like sour grapes, which was not like Ann at all. Barb and her mother knew that Ann was having problems with her marriage and with her son. But when, on New Year's eve, a mere ten days after the picture was taken, Ann had committed suicide, the two of them had been not only devastated but also shocked. They knew that no matter what, Ann was not the kind of a person who would have resorted to taking her own life as an answer to a problem--any problem. The women believed that Ann's husband was at the bottom of this. They had never liked him, and Barb found his power hungry, sadistic tendencies hard to ignore. Ann had always disregarded the symptomentology, saying that as Barb was a counselor, she was forever finding paranoia, character disorders, and dysfunction in every one she met. After Ann's death, Barb's brother-in-law had moved their son and himself to Smallville, Kansas. Barb's mother had died the following year and Barb herself was in the middle of a nasty divorce, so following up on her hunches was put on a back burner. At her mom's funeral, Barb found herself to be the only relative there. Her mother had been an orphan and had grown up in foster care, which is what had originally interested Barb in becoming a social worker who counseled discarded and neglected children. Barb's father had deserted the family when she and her younger sister were just babies and she had not known his whereabouts to invite him to the funeral even if she had wanted him there. Barb looked at her mother in the coffin. All of her teachers in graduate school had spoken about motivation. Why do people become counselors? she remembered them asking. Was it because they are involved in their own dysfunctional families? Was that true of her? Was she dysfunctional? Was she delusional? Did she see women as victims and men as perpetrators? She had had problems with a father, with a brother-in-law, and with her own husband, as well as the fathers and husbands on her caseloads. Did she see all men as predators? Was she falling prey to her own paranoia? No! No, she wasn't, and she had a mission. She had an evil, sadistic murderer to bring to the surface. So in 1985, she relocated to Smallville, becoming counselor at the high school. She lost a lot of weight and changed her hair color, as well as altering her style of clothing. Although she had bumped into Ann's husband on many occasions, he had not associated her with his dead wife. In actuality, Barb and her mother had had little contact with Ann's family over the years because that control freak husband of hers didn't want Ann to interact with them. Their last meeting in New York had been done on the sly and Ann's fear and anxiety was obvious. Barb had worked with several children who had suffered post traumatic stress syndrome after being kidnapped by a parent, and she was acquainted with the protective nature the child assumed in regard to their abductors. Ann had all the symptoms. So because Barb had had little contact with Ann's husband during their marriage and because of the changes in the counselor's appearance, Barb's presence in Smallville went totally unnoticed by the man who was at the center of her mission. The high school counselor kept a watch on Ann's son since arriving in Smallville and also kept Ann's husband under surveillance. Over the eight years she had been in this Kansas small town, Barb Friskin knew that her original diagnosis was accurate. Lex Luthor *was* a psychopath. Barb put her hand in the drawer and stroked the gun that was lying there waiting, waiting for the right moment. Barb's head jerked up and her glazed over eyes readjusted to her surroundings as she heard a knock on her door. * * * Lex Luthor barreled out of the school board meeting that had been held in the third floor conference room of his own bank building and strode quickly into his corner office. He didn't like to be beaten and he had been beaten by a woman, and an insignificant, public servant of a woman at that. He made a mental note to see to it that Mrs. Platt, Mr. Stern, Dr. Klein, and above all, Mrs. Cox, receive his "gratitude" for their disloyalty. As for Lois Lane, schoolteacher--she would undergo something special. * * * Barb Friskin's door opened slightly and Lois stuck her head in. "Am I interrupting anything?" Lois asked. "No," Barb said, looking down at the gun. She put away the picture and closed the drawer for now. "You're welcome any time, Lois." * * * Lex sat down at his desk and picked up the Smallville Press. There were two stories that drew his attention. The first was a follow up to the trial of his son Jaxon in Wichita. It dredged up again the beating of Keith Haley and the subsequent sentences imposed by Judge Deborah Joy LeVine. It stated that Craig Daniels and John Greene and their parents were to begin their hours of community service on November 1st, nine days hence. However, as the reporter had received a tip that Jaxon Luthor had fled the country to places unknown, the story hinted that there was an uncertainty as to whether the Luthor family had any attention of complying. It stated that Lex Luthor had been unavailable for comment. Luthor looked up from the second article in the newspaper, praising Superman's latest rescue, with a scowl on his face. This had definitely not been a monumental day for him. But his scowl quickly turned to acute interest because standing in front of him was a beautiful woman. "Sit down, Ms. Drake," Luthor said, indicating a chair. "If I had known you were this attractive, I wouldn't have protested this meeting as much. You were very persistent." "I always am when I really want something," she explained as she crossed her long legs in a way that gathered the attention she wanted. "And what is it you want?" he said, rising and crossing over behind her chair. "To serve you," Mayson said, looking up at him without batting an eyelash. Luthor leaned down and turned the swivel chair Mayson was sitting in so that it faced him directly. "Continue," he demanded. "I'm an incredible attorney and I can meet any and all of your needs," she retorted. Lex fingered the top button on Mayson's gray silk blouse. "And what needs might those be, Ms. Drake?" he queried. "Power, prestige, me." Lex straightened up and walked over to his desk. He took a Cuban cigar from its humidor and lit it slowly. He took a long puff and sat on the edge of his desk as he regarded Mayson Drake carefully. Mayson, not to be outdone, licked her lips seductively and looked right back at the man who had vilified her father. "I know who you are, Ms. Drake," Luthor informed her. "You're Matthew Drake's daughter." "I'm also the woman who sent you a fax about a possible substance that could kill Superman." * * * There was a knock on the screen door of the back porch of Martha and Jonathan Kent's home. Jonathan opened the door and yelled back into the kitchen. "Martha, it's Wayne Irig. How about pouring him a cup of coffee?" "No," Wayne explained. "It's better to talk out here." "Don't you have your UPS route to attend to?" Jonathan asked. "I called in sick," Wayne explained, looking around furtively. "Last night after the performance...no wait. Let me start at the beginning." "What is it, Wayne?" Jonathan asked, finally seeing a large lead box that Wayne had in his hand. "I didn't tell you about this because we were into production week of the play and we were all so busy, but you know that big oak tree behind my house? Last Tuesday's storm blew it right out of the ground." "Need some help chopping it up?" "No, no, that's not it. I found something under the tree. It...it...was a big rock," he said, pausing. "I sent a piece of it off to the lab, and last night after the performance, I got federal agents showing up at my place, asking me lots of questions, and they came back this morning. That's all I know," he said. "I need you to keep this..." he continued, handing the box to Jonathan, "...until I can figure this all out." "What do you think it is?" Jonathan asked. "I don't know. Something I never seen before," Wayne replied, opening the box. Jonathan stared down into the box. "It's weird," Wayne said, looking at the green, glowing rock. * * * Lois came out of her third period class, the last one on this half-day, and walked down the stairs toward the teacher's lounge. She had not seen Clark since he had taken off so suddenly. Then, as she passed his first floor classroom, he came out, talking to one of his students. Out of the corner of her eyes, Lois saw him smile at her; but still feeling the hurt, she ignored him she went on to the lounge. Clark noticed her distancing herself, shook his head, and then ran his fingers through his hair. Scott Adams, one of Clark's best students, was asking about the assignment that was just given out in class. Clark focused back on the young man and answered his questions. "Yes," Clark informed him. "Bringing in a guest speaker would fulfill the assignment." "Thanks, Mr. Kent," Scott said. "That was really helpful," he informed the teacher, and joined the throng of students exiting the halls. Clark took a deep breath and made his way to the teachers' lounge. Once again he was going to have to face Lois' wrath. He really felt guilty running out on her just after she had told him she loved him. He had wanted to hear those words from the moment he met her and yet he ran off. How could he have done that to her? Even the fact that he had saved a family by rescuing them from a burning farmhouse gave him only a minimal amount of consolation. He was tired of wanting to tear himself in two, and at this point he felt that he would rather face a dozen burning infernos than have to confront Lois, even if it was to let her in on the secret. But Clark realized that's exactly what he had to do. It wouldn't be fair to continue to keep this from her because there would only be more times when he would have to fly off to.... He had reached the lounge and opened the door. Lois looked up from the table where she was sitting, changing her shoes, as Clark entered the lounge. She got up and put the black pumps into her locker. "Lois," Clark began. "I..." "Yes, Clark, I know," she said, slamming her locker door. "You're sorry," she said, turning away from him, tears coming into her eyes once again. "Look, I owe you an explanation," Clark said. "Don't," Lois said, walking around the table. "I cannot listen to one more stupid explanation about your barber or your doctor or how you suddenly remembered you have to return a book to the library." Lois thought about Thoreau, she thought about what Barb Friskin had told her, but she had to let her anger out. She couldn't be anyone other than herself and Lois Lane was mad. Yes, Thoreau had offered her solace and said to overlook the bad things by thinking only good thoughts. But those were just platitudes. Thoreau had probably never been in a situation like this. *She* had never been in a situation like this. She had let her defenses down and had told Clark that she loved him and he...he had run out again. Yes, Barb Friskin had let her vent and had allowed her to verbalize that Clark was wonderful and that he must have had his reasons; but Lois had never given her heart the way she had to Clark and this was hurting her too much. Clark closed his eyes. He couldn't stand to look at her face. There was such a mixture of pain and anger and something more. He saw a resolve that scared him. She was going to break off the relationship. "What you owe me is respect," she went on, her voice taking on an edge in a mixture of tears and frustration. "God, Clark. I told you I *loved* you. Do you realize how difficult that was for me to say? Do you realize what I needed *you* to say?" "Lois," Clark said as he gently put his hands on her arms to stop her from moving away from him. "No!" she exclaimed, pulling free. "Maybe professing my love in a closet wasn't the best thing to do and maybe it shouldn't have happened, at least not there and not then. But you just ran off!" "Lois," Clark began again. "I'm tired of the excuses, Clark. I'm tired of you running away. If you don't want this, if you can't love me, tell me now. How can we have a relationship unless you are honest with me?" "Lois, I've always been honest with you. Always." Clark looked directly into her eyes and took a deep breath. "Except for one thing. And when I tell you what that one thing is, I hope you'll understand." "Well?" she asked. "Lois, I'm..." * * * Sharon Brady was brushing her daughter's hair. "You'll be the perfect Queen," her mother said to Cindy. "Your hair is just the color of corn silk." Cindy smiled at her mother as she straightened the soft green tulle dress that Martha Kent had made for her and stood up. "Keith will be here soon to drive me to the parade site," she explained to her mother. Mrs. Brady eyed her daughter. "You've been seeing a lot of Keith Haley lately," her mother said. "Isn't he, I mean, he said he was..." "Gay? Is that the word you're searching for?" "Yes," her mother responded. "I guess so." "We're good friends," Cindy explained. "He's been there for me since Jaxon..." "But you're..." "I'm what, mom?" Cindy turned abruptly to face her. "Wasting my time? Jaxon was the waste of time!" she lashed out. Then seeing her mother's face, Cindy softened her tone. "Mom. I know things have been difficult since Dad died. I know you want only the best for me," she said kindly. "I even took up with Jaxon because he was so rich, even though it was his father who caused..." "We don't know that!" Cindy's mother almost shouted. The new Corn Queen stroked her mother's hair with the same loving feeling with which her mother had just brushed hers. "I just don't want you to end up like I did," Mrs. Brady said through tears. "Your father was a wonderful man and I loved him. But when he died, there was nothing, nothing. He had taken our savings, cashed in his life insurance policy, and converted everything to cash to buy into the bank. He believed that with Lex Luthor coming into their partnership, he would make a fortune," she said, the tears starting to come. "Hush, Mom," Cindy said soothingly. "That's behind us," she said, taking her mother into her arms. "That's behind us," she repeated, her eyes taking on a hard look, one that her mother could not see. Sharon Brady hugged desperately onto her daughter. She had forced herself to not let Cindy know what she was thinking. She couldn't let her daughter realize that she had known all along that Lex Luthor was responsible for Henry's death and the relegation of the two of them to a life of just barely making ends meet. Sharon's job at the restaurant was adequate, but it couldn't get Cindy the things she needed. Sharon took on additional jobs cleaning houses and waitressing at parties, but there never seemed to be enough. Cindy would be graduating from high school in June and wanted to go on to college, so Mrs. Brady needed money. And as she stood there, hugging her daughter, she knew the steps she would have to take to get it. * * * At the deserted farm site, Trask was viciously interrogating Wayne Irig. Trask scrutinized the older, shaken man he had pinned up against the dilapidated barn door. The military man had discovered that it was Irig who had sent the sample of the alien rock that had wound up in Washington D. C. for testing, and was attempting to force him into revealing the location of the remainder of the rock. Wayne had taken one look at the man in camouflage greens and had decided it was better if he played it dumb. No matter what, he wasn't going to let Trask know that it was Jonathan Kent who now had the green, glowing rock. "The way I see it, we have two possibilities," Trask spat out. "Either you buried it somewhere or you gave it to someone." Irig wasn't looking at the man interrogating him but at the last remark made eye contact with him. Wayne could see that Trask was not going to let this go away. "Now which is it?" Trask said menacingly. "There wasn't any more. That was it!" Wayne exclaimed. "Wrong answer!" Trask yelled as he grabbed both of Irig's arms, compressing them with his hands. Wayne winced at the pain but remained silent. One of Trask's aides arrived at the interrogator's side. "It's him," the aide said, handing Trask the military phone. Trask pushed Wayne against the barn door again and took the phone. "No, nothing at this end yet," he told the person at the other terminus of the phone. "But as an agent of Bureau 39, nothing will stop me until..." Wayne took out a red handkerchief and mopped his brow. He had never counted on this. He was really panicky but something told him not to reveal anything to the sadistic- looking man glaring at him. "...Yeah, okay. I'll put the pressure on," Trask said into the phone and hung up. Irig mopped his brow again, his hand shaking. "Your house in near Shuster's field, isn't it?" Trask insinuated. "You found the rock there?" "What has Shuster's field got to do with it?" Wayne asked. "That's on a need to know basis and *you* don't need to know. *You* just need to answer my questions." "I have friends who expect me back," Wayne told the inquisitor. "Call them!" Trask shot out, "and tell them that you are going away for a while." The military man thrust the phone at him. "Jonathan," Wayne said into the phone after his friend had answered. "Listen, I can't get that additional lumber from the place we got it before, in order to fix the door on the set. Just keep my *box* of tools safe until I get back," he said, hesitating. "I'm...I'm gonna be busy for a while. Sorry, I got to hang up." "Are you okay?" Jonathan asked. "Yeah, yeah," Wayne responded. Trask grabbed the phone from Wayne. "Now," he said. "You're going to tell me where you got that rock and what you did with the rest of it." * * * "Yes," Lois said expectantly. "I'm..." Clark began again but was interrupted when Jimmy entered the teachers' lounge. "CK," Jimmy sung out. "You've got a phone call from your father." "Take a message, Jimmy, please," Clark insisted. "Okay," Jimmy said. "But he said to tell you that it was about a rock that was found near Shuster's Field and that it was important. "Lois," Clark said, looking back at her. "I have to take this call," he said with a catch in his voice and a strange look on his face. "You're going to go take a call about a rock rather than finish this with me?" she said, not noticing Clark's anguish. "Lois, please..." "You pick up that phone now and..." she said threateningly. "Lois, I have to," Clark whispered regretfully and reached for the phone. Lois glared at him and stormed out of the room. * * * Jimmy returned to the administrative offices and informed Beatrice that Clark was going to pick up the phone in the teacher's lounge. "Thanks, Jimmy, Beatrice said. "I'm glad you found Clark. It sounded rather urgent." "You bet," Jimmy responded, starting to walk away, but having seen Lois' face, he was not sure that a rock should have interrupted their discussion and he turned back, wanting to ask the secretary another question. Beatrice looked at Jimmy. "They'll be all right," she said, anticipating his question. "They will?" he asked. "I've known from the very first day Lois arrived that she and Clark were meant for each other. They will work it out." Dr. Perry White, Smallville High School's principal, walked out of his office. "Jimmy," he said. "I've known Beatrice for a long time. She knows her stuff." "How did you know what we were talking about?" Jimmy asked. "I didn't get this job because I know how to yodel," he responded. "Just mark my words, those two have something special just like Elvis and Priscilla, and they're gonna make it." "I hope so," Jimmy replied. "But you and I sitting here on the sidelines cheering them on doesn't seem enough. I don't know what else to do to help." "Be there for them when they need you," Beatrice said as her thoughts strayed to Mayson. The secretary began wondering if her little girl needed her. * * * Lex Luthor put down the phone and eyed Mayson Drake once again. "That was Trask" he informed her. "He hasn't been able to get anything out of Wayne Irig yet." "Irig is a simpleton, but he is stubborn and loyal. I'll bet he is shielding someone else," Mayson explained. "And since I know the people here fairly well, I'm sure that Jonathan Kent has the rock that you want." Lex crossed toward her. "You may be the advantage I need," he said, drawing her up to him. Mayson gazed at Lex seductively from beneath long lashes. Mayson knew that she had him where she wanted him. She had learned rather quickly during her time in Washington D.C. that you only got where you wanted if you knew how to use people. She hadn't played the game before, but she was going to play this time; and this time she was going to play with the cards stacked in her favor. "I'm *just* what you need," Mayson murmured and kissed him. * * * Jonathan heard a whoosh and went out on the back porch. "What's going on Dad?" Clark asked worriedly, spinning from his spandex back into his jeans. "I just got a strange call from Wayne Irig. He told me not to meet him as we planned, and not to fix the door on the set. But there's nothing wrong with the door and we had never planned to meet." "I'm not following you. What's this got to do with Shuster's field and a rock?" "Wayne said that we shouldn't go to the place where we got the wood for the lumber before. That was Shuster's field. He also told me to keep his box of tools safe. He didn't leave his toolbox with me, he left a different box." Jonathan Kent encouraged Clark to follow him. "Wayne Irig found a rock on his property last week," Jonathan told his son as he opened the door to his tool shed, "and he sent it over to Wichita for analysis. Then the feds showed up," he explained as he entered the shed. "That doesn't make any sense," Clark said, walking into the shed right behind his father and closing the door behind him. "Why go to all this trouble for a rock? "Because the preliminary report said it was some kind of meteorite," Jonathan continued, going toward the back of the shed and picking up the large lead box that he had hidden there. "Wayne thought it might be worth some money so he gave it to me for safe keeping," he explained, setting it on a table. "I figured," Jonathan said, opening the box, "that since he found it a few miles from where we found you, it was related." As soon as Jonathan Kent opened the lead-lined box, a pain shot through Clark. It was something he had never experienced before. He lifted his hand to his head and his knees began to buckle. "Dad...Dad...I...I'm feeling strange," Clark groaned. "My God," Jonathan said, unable to keep his eye off the glowing contents of the lead box. "Do you think it could be this?" Clark keeled over. "Clark!" his father yelled, kneeling down beside him. "What's happening, son?" he asked as Clark became unconscious. "Clark, Clark," he said fearfully as he turned his son over to look at his face. "Martha!!!" Jonathan shouted out. * * * Barb Friskin glanced up as she saw Lois opening the door once again. She smiled and took out some chocolate from the lower drawer of her desk. "This might help," she said. Lois sat down on the small couch Barb had in her office. "I didn't listen to you," Lois chastised herself. "I blew up." "You must have felt the need to do it," Barb explained. "Remember you are the best judge of what you need, if you don't cloud that need with impossible and irrational requirements. Don't color your desires with the baggage you carry from before. Clark is not your father. He is not the same as the previous men in your life. Believe me, I know." "But he is hurting me just as the others..." "I realize that." Barb came over to sit next to her, handing her a piece of chocolate. "I know it feels that way. But you've told me that you also feel that Clark is different. And *I* know Clark. He *is* different. But as I've mentioned before, he's scared. You both are." "I thought we got beyond that," Lois said, mumbling over the chocolate in her mouth. "There is something else," the counselor said. "I'm not sure what it is, but he'll tell you when he is ready. In the meantime, know this. He *loves* you. I've never seen a man so in love with a woman as I have him with you." "Love him more," Lois said quietly. "What?" Barb asked. "It's a quotation I have hanging on my wall at home," she explained. "'The remedy for love is to love more.'" Barb put her arm around the younger woman who was so obviously in pain. "I know this is supposed to be about you. But Lois, I have a feeling he needs you now more than ever. Cherish Clark's friendship, be kind to him while he is struggling with whatever demons are keeping you apart, and as you said, love...him...more." * * * The fax machine beeped as the expected information arrived. Mayson Drake sat up as she heard the machine beep again. Lex Luthor stroked her bare back. "Come here," he demanded softly. Mayson grabbed at the nearest article of clothing and came up with Lex's shirt. She slipped into it and turned to kiss the man lying in the large, luxurious bed. "Be right back," she whispered. The sounds of the Smallville Corn Festival parade wafted up to the fifth floor apartment. The high school marching band was playing "Point of No Return" from Phantom of the Opera. Mayson smiled as she recognized the melody. She pulled the sheets of paper from the tray and perused them quickly. she told herself. she thought, smiling. And, by pleasing him, she would get what she wanted--his eventual demise. The attorney took one of the sheets and placed it into the top tray and, looking at her notes, punched in a number and pushed the send button. The other pieces of information she would use later. Mayson picked up her purse and walked into the bathroom. She took out her cell phone and dialed a number. "Hi, Mom," she said. "No. No, I'm not in Smallville yet," she lied, pausing to listen to her mother's responses. "Yes, I should be there in time to see your play on Sunday. Maybe even before.... Yes, I know. But I have some things to wrap up. Then I have a new project that should take about a month to finish, But I will be able to handle it from Smallville," she said, pausing again. "Yes, Mom, the project will definitely be terminated in a month." * * * Down below, the queen's float was just passing the bank building. Cindy was waving to everyone in the obligatory manner. Cindy looked up toward Lex Luthor's apartment. She wondered what was going on behind the darkened windows. What was life like up there? Cindy reflected back on her own short life. For a young woman about to turn eighteen, she had seen much--the death of her father, the despair of her mother, and their move from that large, sunny house on Maple Street to the dank trailer park on the "wrong" side of town. She had sold herself to Jaxon Luthor so that she could change her life and get the things she wanted. He had bought her clothes, had taken her to places she would otherwise not have been able to go, and sported her around in that red Porsche of his. She had been popular at the high school, and unlike other kids who came from the trailer park, she had been asked to join the better clubs and be with the better class of kids. In payment for these things, she had had to submit to Jaxon's cruelty. He had hit her many times, even before the events that led to his arrest and trial. Keith Haley wasn't the only person that had ever set him off. Jaxon's father also set him off. Lex Luthor was an evil man. Perhaps if Jaxon's father had been a better man, Jaxon would have... Cindy was tired of her own ambiguities. She had only used Jaxon as he had used her. He was the rich man's son. She was the beautiful trinket he wore, but Cindy knew that deep down she had felt something for Jaxon. No! She shook that thought off. Her being with Jaxon was *only* a way to hurt Lex Luthor. Cindy knew how much Luthor had been upset over his son dating trailer trash. But she had not always been so-called trailer trash. Her father's death and the loss of all of his money had relegated her mother and herself to this life, and Cindy was going to get back what was taken away. She knew that no matter where Jaxon was, he would want her and she would continue to use that. If Lex Luthor was just out of the way... * * * Mrs. Cox, school board member, was sitting in the study of her home on Maple Street. Her husband, a local attorney, who was currently being considered for a judgeship on the circuit court, leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. "I enjoyed being home for lunch," he told her. "Nice change, but as Mayor I'm already late for the parade, so I have to go. Even a lame-duck mayor has to put in an appearance." "Charles?" his wife asked. "Aren't you putting a lot of stock in getting that appointment? You chose not to run for reelection because you were sure you would get the judgeship," she said, looking up at him. "Vivian," Charles said. "It's a done deal." He gave his wife another quick kiss and hurried out the door just as the fax machine was beeping. She crossed over to the machine and picked up the piece of paper just as it was being discharged from the printer. Vivian stared at the report and crumpled it in her hand. "Lex Luthor," she hissed. "If he thinks he can get even with me, well, he's in for a big surprise." * * * Smallville's town square was decorated with yellow and green streamers, similarly colored balloons, and corn stalks. On one end of the square, local musicians were playing country music. At the other end, several townspeople were busy barbecuing hot dogs and hamburgers. People were sitting at tables, on benches, and on the curbs, watching the parade go by. Jimmy Olsen, Cat Grant, and Dan Scardino were sitting at one table, and several community people stopped as they passed by to congratulate them on Thursday night's performance. Jimmy scoured the square for Lois and Clark, knowing that they had planned to be here. Not seeing them, he again began to worry that their earlier altercation had had some lasting affects. At another table across the square, directly opposite the bank building, Linda and Donald Botts were eating hot dogs as Cindy's float passed them by. She waved at the couple, smiling. Donald, his mouth full, nodded at the new Corn Queen. "Careful," Linda told her husband. "Don't eat too much. We have another performance tonight." "Yes, we do," said Bill Saxon, sitting down to join them. "Speaking of which, where are our two leads? I haven't seen them. Clark would never miss this, and I'm sure he would be escorting Lois here." He winked at the older couple. The queen's float moved down the street and Bill could now see the bank building previously obscured by the float. He saw a woman standing in front of the bank *not* watching the parade, but looking at the building itself. She turned back to the parade as a group of town dignitaries walked by, and she smiled as she saw the Mayor scurrying to take his place in line. Bill noticed that the woman had a beautiful smile but sadness lurked behind it. Barb Friskin, during her eight years of residence in Smallville, had helped so many kids, their parents, and even their teachers. he thought. "You know," Linda said, breaking into Bill's reverie. "Martha and Jonathan aren't here, either. I wonder if something is wrong." * * * Helping his son to the kitchen table, Jonathan eased him into a chair. Martha felt her son's face. "Oh, Clark, honey, you're burning up," his Mom said, reaching for a thermometer and putting it in her son's mouth. "Don't get scared, Mom," Clark said, the thermometer still in his mouth. "My body doesn't work like other people's," he reminded her. He looked at his mother and hoped his words reassured her. He also hoped that saying them out loud would help him, as he was the one who was really scared. "Well, how do you feel?" his father asked, filling a pitcher of water at the sink. "That's the important thing." "Better," Clark responded. "I think I feel better." Suddenly, the thermometer blew up in his face, eliciting a screech from his mother. "My, oh my," Martha remarked as Clark removed the remains of the thermometer. "What do you mean, you *think* you feel better?" his father asked, placing the pitcher on the table. "Don't you know?" "He's never been sick before. It's a new experience," his mother offered. Clark tried to lift the pitcher of water. "I lifted a rocket into space," he said to his father wistfully, "and now I can't even lift this." "Don't worry about it," Martha said, picking up the pitcher and pouring Clark a glass of water. "You'll bounce right back." "I don't understand this," Jonathan said, shaking his head. "How can a rock that probably came from the same planet as Clark make him sick?" "It's poison," Martha said, putting her hand on Clark's arm. "That's all we need to know and we are not going to let it near you again!" There was a light knock at the screen door of the back porch. Clark looked up weakly and saw it was Lois. "She can't know about this," he warned his parents. Martha answered the door. "Lois, honey," Martha said. "Come on in." "Sit down, Lois," Jonathan said, pulling out a chair." "Jonathan," Martha said. "We have to get over to the Town Square. Remember you are supposed to relieve Fred Haley at one of the barbecue Stations?" She hurriedly ushered Jonathan out the door. "Will you be alright?" she asked her son, looking back over her shoulder. "Yeah, Mom," he responded. "I'll be fine." The Kents walked out the door, leaving the young couple to deal with a great many issues. "Clark," Lois said, touching his face. "You look horrible!" "It's my allergies," he said quickly, sort of confused as to Lois' intent after their altercation this morning. "Are you sure that's all it is?" Lois asked, wondering if Barb Friskin had been right about Clark being in some kind of trouble. "What do you want me to say, Lois?" he asked her. He had earlier that day been on the verge of telling her that he loved her, as well as disclosing his secret to her when they had once again been interrupted. But now maybe there was no secret to tell. His powers were gone. He had no strength. His father had to practically carry him into the kitchen, so he doubted he could fly. He had not heard Lois coming and only had seen her on the porch because there was just the screen door separating them. Lois looked into his eyes with a worried expression. "I know you're hurt," Clark said. "And I know that I really have no excuse other than to tell you that there are some things going on right now that I have to deal with. And it's because I don't *want* you to get hurt that I need to get them straightened out. And after I do, we will have a talk and..." "Clark," Lois put her hand on his. "I met with Barb Friskin. Yes, I needed to talk to someone and she really set me straight on this. She helped me realize and even accept that people have separate lives. And no matter how involved we are, sometimes it's appropriate to do things apart," she continued. "If you have something you have to do on your own, I will try to understand," she said, moving that stray lock of hair off his forehead. "I told you how I feel about you. And I have to believe that you feel the same way about me and will tell me when you are ready. I'll wait, and until then we won't say the 'L' word...just be best friends who are dating and who...." She leaned over to kiss him gently. he thought. He may not be Superman any more, not have those powers any more, but his other functions were still working. He wanted so much to kiss her passionately, to pick her up and carry her into his old bedroom--the room where he had had the dreams every young man has, the dreams of one day meeting that someone, someone who he could love and make love to. Clark returned the kiss just as gently as she had bestowed it upon him. He put his hand on the side of her face and looked deeply into her eyes. Lois was looking up at him-- trusting him. How could he not tell her how he felt? He wanted to open up to her. But it had to be perfect. *He* had to be.... Was perfect the word he was looking for? Maybe just normal would be wonderful. He could be normal and have a normal relationship with the woman that he loved. He wouldn't have to be evasive. He wouldn't have to run off. He wouldn't have to hurt her anymore. But would he be Clark? Would he be the man he wanted to be? "How about getting some fresh air?" he asked her. "I did promise to take you to the Corn Festival, and this pair of jeans needs to take your country dress out. We only have a few of hours left before we have to be at the auditorium to get ready for tonight's performance." "Are you sure you're feeling up to it?" Lois asked, touching his head. "You *do* feel normal." "I am normal," he replied, sighing slightly. * * * Bill Saxon looked up from the hot dog he had been eating to see Barb Friskin enter the Town Square. "Bill," Barb said, smiling as she came up to the three of them. "How are you?" "Why don't you join us?" Bill asked. "That would be great," she said, nodding at Linda and Donald. "How are the two of you?" she asked as she sat down. "Great," Donald replied. "I guess I haven't seen you, Bill, since the Labor Day picnic," she remarked, looking over at him. "I don't get to see as much of you now that you are retired." Bill smiled at Barb. "I guess we will have to remedy that. I know," he said suddenly. "Why don't you get involved with the Smallville Players? Donald, Linda and I would love to have you be part of it." "Whew," Barb responded. "I'm not sure about that. It's a big commitment and I don't know if I would be good at it." "Oh, you'd be wonderful!" Linda exclaimed. "I've seen you up in front of a group before and you were terrific." "You have?" Barb asked. "Remember that talk you gave to the hospital auxiliary on eating disorders? You were not only informative, you were able to rally us all to the cause." "I also heard," Bill added, "that you are going to be the guiding force behind the educational component on AIDS that Judge LeVine has mandated for our community as a result of Keith's beating." "Yes, that's right," Barb said. "So, you see, I don't really have time for..." "Make time," Bill interrupted, putting his hand on hers. "I'm saying this like an uncle. You need time to do something just for you. And trust me, community theatre is an incredible outlet and an incredible way to get to know people better. Ask them," he said, indicating Lois and Clark, who had entered the town square and had come up to their table. "Ask us what?" Clark questioned. "About how community theatre gets people together," Donald suggested. Clark looked at Lois. "It does do that," he said. "Yes it does," Lois repeated and smiled at Barb Friskin. "I'm glad," Barb said, looking at the both of them. "Why don't you come to the performance tonight as my guest?" Bill suggested, looking at Barb. "Yes. You should come. This play has a lot to say," Lois explained, and looked up at Clark with admiration in her eyes. "And watching how amazing Clark is in this role is worth the price of admission alone." "Especially when you get in free," Clark laughed, but Lois' look at him had not gone unnoticed. He smiled back at her. "We have to get something to eat," he explained, wanting to get Lois alone. "But here you go." He pulled out a ticket from his shirt pocket and handed it quickly to Barb. "Ow!" he exclaimed as he and Lois walked away. "I'm bleeding." "Haven't you ever had a paper cut?" Lois asked. Not that I can remember," he responded as they headed toward where Jonathan and Martha were working. "I could kiss it and make it feel better." Lois smiled up at him. Clark smiled back as he sucked on the bleeding finger, but his mind was thinking about the green rock's effect on him. He looked down at the paper cut. He had to determine if the loss of his powers was going to be permanent or not because he had to get on with his life. And, as he looked at the woman walking beside him, most importantly, he had to figure a way to make Lois a part of that life. * * * Mayson Drake exited the bank building and made her way across the town square. She glanced down at two documents she had in her hand and glimpsed the names on the top of each sheet. Deborah Joy LeVine, the first said. The second said Lois Lane. Mayson folded the sheets and put them in her purse while getting out the keys to her rental car. The young, attractive attorney smiled to herself. She had been able to convince Lex, using both her feminine wiles and articulate logic, that she would be the ideal person to dispose of several of his pending matters since they concerned women. Lex agreed that having a woman attorney to handle these chores would be a plus, and he put her on retainer. She made a beeline for her car, crossing through the throng of Corn Festival celebrants, as it was the most direct route for her. She had an appointment in Wichita and she didn't want to keep her contact waiting. "Mayson," Clark yelled out as he and Lois crossed the square. He ran over to her and swung her around. "Clark," Mayson responded, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Mom told me you moved back here three years ago." "What about you?" he asked, holding her at arm's length with both hands to survey her. "I heard you were some big lawyer in Washington D.C." "Yeah, well, your ex-girlfriend found that D.C. wasn't for *her*, so I'm back and I will be working as Lex Luthor's attorney." Lois, somewhat upset by their familiarity, tried to gain the attention of one of them to garner an introduction, but Clark was apparently upset at what Mayson was saying and had forgotten that Lois was standing there. Clark scowled, dropping her hands. "Are you sure this is what you want, Mayson?" he asked. "Luthor is..." "Don't, Clark." Mayson held up her hand stopping him. "I'm gonna get enough flack from Mom." "You both are gonna get flack from me unless I'm allowed into this conversation," Lois interrupted. "Oh, sorry, Lois. This is Mayson Drake, Beatrice's daughter. We were in the senior play together. It was 'Wait Until Dark.' She played Suzie, the Audrey Hepburn part, and I played Sam, her husband." "That's right," Mayson said. "And he took me to the senior prom. Lana was an exchange student that year, so I filled in for her. How about saving me a dance later for old times? You still... Did you say 'Lois,' Clark?" she asked, staring at the woman who had slipped her arm into Clark's. "Yes, Mayson. This is Lois Lane, who's our new English teacher." Mayson could not help but notice the fondness in his voice. "Are you two...?" she started asking. Clark paused. * * * Across the square, Bill Saxon noticed Mayson Drake coming from Lex's building and her stopping to talk to Lois and Clark. Bill thought. He returned his attention to the people at his table. Donald was telling the group about a woman who had stopped him on the street to gush about how wonderful the play had been. Bill glanced away again during Donald's lengthy reenactment of the scene with this "fan," to see Mayson continuing to talk with Lois and Clark. He was happy to see Lois with her arm in Clark's as it sort of reendowed him with the possibility of love. Bill turned his head and frowned as he saw Sharon Brady coming out of the Luthor building. She had been crying. Bill worried about that family and about the Smallville Players' family. What went on off stage always affected what occurred on stage because they all shared each other's heartaches. * * * Lois looked up at Clark, waiting for him to respond. Clark smiled at Lois and, putting his arm around Lois' shoulders, looked back at Mayson. "We're working on it." "Congratulations," she said somewhat unenthusiastically. "Well, I've got to go see Mom. She doesn't know that I've arrived," Mayson explained. And Clark," she said, hugging him again. "It's been great seeing you." "You, too," Clark said. The attorney turned. "Lois, is it?" Mayson said, her voice changing just slightly, her hand fingering her purse. "I expect to see much more of you." * * * Keith lifted Cindy off the float. As he looked into her face, he noticed once again a mixture of feelings. He could sense that Cindy was experiencing a combination of sadness and anger that he blamed partially on himself. Keith knew that his friendship with Cindy had caused her problems. Jaxon Luthor had not been able to tolerate their being in the play together or their working together. Cindy's support of Keith had been an embarrassment to Jaxon, whose homophobia contributed to the violence that Lex Luthor had encouraged by demanding his son be in his image. Keith should have felt the same anger at the injury that Jaxon inflicted on Cindy, Ms. Lane, and himself, but all he could feel was pity. Keith understood father/son relationship problems and knew that Jaxon had tried to live up to his father's expectations, but had fallen short. The buzz around school this morning was that Lex Luthor had banished his son to parts unknown. Keith realized that for quite some time his own father had had difficulty accepting Keith's homosexuality and that Fred Haley was looking forward to Keith's graduation and planned moved to Metropolis. But last night the Haleys had reconciled their differences. Keith knew that that had been a big step for his dad and was grateful that his father was different than Lex Luthor. The young man looked up at the apartment window that Cindy had speculated about only moments earlier and recognized that a lot of the town's problems could be laid at that doorstep. Keith switched his gaze over to his own father, who was just being relieved of his cooking assignment by the Kents. "Let's get something to eat," he said, escorting Cindy toward the south end of town square. "Maybe my dad can join us." "I need to change first," Cindy explained. "I don't want to ruin the dress Mrs. Kent made for me. Oh, Mrs. Kent," she called out, seeing her standing with her husband by the food station. "You look beautiful," Martha said to the young woman as she and Keith approached. "Thanks for making the dress," Cindy told her. "My pleasure," Martha replied. * * * Lois and Clark watched Mayson maneuver quickly through the crowd of people. Clark found his reunion with Mayson a bit disconcerting. Her pleasure at seeing him could not hide the fact that she had changed a great deal. He did not remember the hardness that was evident in Mayson's face. He had always known that she was a determined young Woman, even in high school. But there was something different now- -a more calculating look. It was obvious that she had been exposed to people and events that had affected her, and her alliance with Lex Luthor was unsettling. Lois, not having any comparison, had found Mayson puzzling. Lois had taken an instant like to Beatrice and also knew that Clark was a good judge of character. Mayson just didn't fit into that picture. Lois and Clark continued walking across the square and then, noticing the small group of people talking, walked up to where his parents were standing with Keith and Cindy. "Hi, Mr. Kent, Ms. Lane," Keith said. "I'll be right back," Cindy informed all of them. "I have to go take off this dress," she explained and scurried off, carefully holding up the dress so that the bottom didn't get dirty. "Ms. Lane," Keith said. "Can I talk to you about an idea?" "Sure," Lois replied, and the two walked over to a table and sat down. * * * Jonathan looked over at Lois talking to Keith and, making sure she was out of earshot, turned to his son. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "We've got to get you to a doctor," Martha interrupted, looking critically at her son and putting her hand on his arm. "That's all there is to it." "Mom, what's a doctor going to do? I'm fine now. I'm fine, but...but I'm normal." "Normal for earth," his mother suggested. "This is earth!" Clark insisted. "Normal can be good!" "I think you're both jumping the gun," Jonathan interjected. "You can't go all your life with powers, and then *poof* they just disappear." "Well, it's happened, Dad. Here, I'll show you," he said, heading over to the array of midway games along one side of town square. "Ring the bell and win a prize," barked out Fred Haley, who had moved from cooking the barbecue to running the Striker Strength game. "Here you go," said Clark, handing Fred a ticket. Clark took the mallet and looked back at his parents. "Well, here goes," he said hopefully. Clark swung the mallet and the small metal ball was forced up to the 44 level mark, 50 being the top. "You want to try again?" Fred asked him. "No," Clark told him, realizing that he had proven all he needed to prove. * * * "Keith, I think that's an excellent idea," Lois said. "If I can help, let me know." "I just wanted to run it by you because you're the advisor of the school paper." "Well, I think that a series of articles on AIDS would be beneficial and would go well with what Barb Friskin will be doing for the community." "You don't think it's overkill, especially after the speech I gave? Won't some of the kids think we are hitting this too hard?" he asked. "I guess we are making up for lost time," Lois explained. "For many years AIDS wasn't talked about at all. Then when it was, it was called the Gay Plague or Gay Cancer. There is a lot of misinformation out there and this could be the time to clear it up." "Scott Adams has a cousin who lives in Metropolis and has AIDS," Keith sad sadly. "Michael, his cousin, is an actor who goes to schools all over the country to talk about AIDS--how you get it, living with it, precautions, everything. Scott has to do an assignment for Mr. Kent's class, and bringing his cousin here would be part of that assignment," Keith explained. And even though Scott is supposed to be just the sports writer, I told him that we could write these articles together. We could write about the problem, the speaker who was coming, and then interview Michael for the paper later." "We could make it AIDS Awareness Week," Lois said, jumping into the pool as she always did. "We can have the articles, screen the film 'Philadelphia,' get the AIDS quilt to make a stop here, and have Michael speak." "Those are great ideas," Keith said. "Do you think we can get it together in the next three weeks? That's when Scott said the projects are due." "We can try. Maybe some others in Scott's class with Mr. Kent could work on this together for their assignment," she suggested. I'm sure there are some on-line sites that could give you some research and information for posters, flyers, and handouts. We could have all the students wear the red ribbons for one day," Lois went on, her eyes aglow--she was full-tilt Lois. Keith just stood back and watched her operate. "I think you should fly with it," Lois told him. Cindy walked up to both of them, having changed into jeans and a plaid shirt. "Thanks, Ms. Lane," Keith said. "We'll keep you informed about how this goes." Cindy put her arm through Keith's and dragged him over to where the music was playing and they joined the dancers already engrossed in having a good time. "Come on, Ms. Lane," Keith yelled out. "Jump in, the water's fine." Lois turned and looked around for Clark. She saw him over by the midway games and walked toward him just as the music began playing a particular lively country song. She moved over next to Clark and swished her dress around. Getting the hint, Clark grabbed Lois' hand and led her to the dance floor. "I'll show you how to..." he began. But before he could, Lois was out there, tush pushing with the best of them. "You can really do this!" he said, dancing by her side. "Last year I had a girl friend convince me that it was a great way to meet guys," she said, laughing. "Was it?" he asked. "Define guys," she said, looking up at him as they both did a grapevine and turned simultaneously. * * * Mayson pulled into the parking lot of the courthouse in Wichita. It was almost five o'clock in the afternoon, which gave her precious little time. Judge LeVine was sitting at her desk. "I have a proposition for you," Mayson explained. * * * Martha watched her son on the dance floor with the young woman she and Jonathan were already beginning to see as part of the family and smiled. "I'm really happy that he's found Lois," she told her husband. "So am I," Jonathan replied. "She is somethin' special. "But what are we going to do with it?" he asked Martha. "With what?" Martha asked, temporarily distracted as she watched her son's beaming smile. "The rock!" Jonathan exclaimed. "We can't give it to anybody and we sure as heck don't want to keep it anywhere near Clark." "Sometimes," Martha said, looking at her husband, "I don't understand why things happen. How all his life he talked about being normal, and now he is." She glanced over at her son dancing with Lois. "That's what he says it wants, but it doesn't seem to...." "Oh, Martha," Jonathan interrupted. "This doesn't feel right. Clark is *not* normal. Normal for Clark is being super. Until I opened that box..." * * * After several rigorous dances, Lois and Clark left the dance floor arm in arm. "Okay, Clark. Let's make this a day to remember," she said, handing a ticket to Fred Haley, who was still running the Striker game. "Okay," he said, shrugging. He took the mallet and, using all of his "normal" strength, he brought down a blow. The small metal ball hit 47 this time labeling him "Hercules." Lois grinned at him. "Can I try that again?" he asked curiously, handing Fred another ticket. He gave it a swing and the metal ball jumped up to 48. "That was very close," Lois encouraged, giving Fred another ticket. "One more." "All right," Clark said, and this time he used all the strength he could muster and a loud ding rewarded his efforts as the ball hit the mark sporting a picture of Superman. He raised his arms in victory and Lois jumped into them and they hugged each other. "You did it!" she exclaimed. "You get your choice," Fred said, pointing to the available prizes--a Superman doll or a teddy bear. Lois paused for a moment. Clark rolled his eyes, anticipating Lois' choice, and then smiled when she grabbed the teddy bear. * * * Beatrice Drake walked up to the group of people who were sitting at a Table, having an animated discussion. "Am I intruding?" she asked. "No, not at all," Linda said, and the others agreed. "I see Mayson's back in town," Bill said to her. "She is?" Beatrice questioned, sitting down. "I saw her coming out of the Smallville Bank Building," he said. "Oh, yes. Yes, she is," Mayson's mother said, changing her tone. "She came in to see the play," Beatrice explained. Bill noticed Beatrice's quick cover up and thought about his friends and their families. Beatrice, Mayson, Barb, Cindy, Sharon, Keith, Lois, and Clark were all dealing with pain. Pain was a part of life and had to be endured, but something appeared to be coming to a head. As an old man sitting on the sidelines, he could see it. He only wished he could be of some help. "That's great, Beatrice," Bill told her. "I know you were looking forward to her coming home." "Absolutely," Beatrice said out loud, but her mind was elsewhere. Beatrice thought. Her daughter must have a change in plans, but leaving Beatrice out of those plans was not what they had talked about. * * * Lois and Clark arrived at the high school auditorium to prepare for the second night's performance of "The Male Animal." Lois, clutching her teddy bear in her arms, sat down in front of her make-up mirror. She looked at her reflection. Her day had been a roller coaster ride from delight to despair and back up again. She felt drained and thought of how differently Clark had behaved today as well. He appeared at first to be less exuberant, less Pollyannaish, less Clark. But then, all of a sudden, he was more Clark, a different more relaxed Clark, but a Clark that still held something back. she cautioned herself. "The remedy for love is to love more," she said aloud to her reflection. On her make-up table, the yellow rose that Clark had given her last night had opened up beautifully. Lois re-read the card. ...Always listen to that music, Lois, as it makes you the incredible woman you are. - Love, Clark. She would live up to what he thought of her. She would not only stand up for the injustices in the world, she would stand up and fight for the two of them--for their relationship. Love, Clark, it had said. *Love* Clark. She had to hold on to that. * * * Mayson Drake opened the door to her rental car. The conversation with the Judge had been easier than she thought it would be. Okay, one down. Now only Vivian Cox and Lois Lane were left. Since she had gotten what she wanted from Judge LeVine faster than anticipated, and she was by the courthouse, maybe a visit to Judge Arthur Higgins would be beneficial. The attorney waited patiently for the court clerk to get off the phone. "I'm sorry," the young, thin man said, "Judge Higgins is not available." Mayson took the document with Vivian Cox's name on the top and asked for a large manila envelope. She slipped the material into the sleeve and wrote her name and phone number on the outside. "Would you make sure that he gets this?" Mayson asked. "Yes." The clerk looked down to find her name. "Yes, Ms. Drake," he said. * * * Martha called them all together to talk to the cast and crew. "Mrs. Kent," Keith said, concerned. "Wayne Irig isn't here." "He must still be busy with that problem," Jonathan said, looking at Martha's worried face. "I can do double duty and handle the lights except for that one scene that I'm in," he offered. "I can cover that part," Keith suggested, "as I'm not on stage then." Linda came rushing in. "Wayne Irig called the auditorium office," she said, "and left a message on the machine. He said that he was fine but that he was stuck and wouldn't be here," she said, somewhat upset. "It's okay, Linda, we've got it covered," Martha explained to Linda, who was already on her way back to the front of the auditorium to get the box office set up. "Thanks, Jonathan. Thank you, Keith, for jumping in, and thank you everyone," Martha said. "Most of you have been in plays that I have directed before, so you know the speech that I'm going to give you now." "The Mental Molasses speech," several of the cast members said together. "Uh-huh, that's right," Martha said, looking at all of them intently. "Opening night was fantastic," she said. "And I'm extremely proud of each and every one of you. However, tonight's audience deserves the same performance. You cannot let yourself rest on your laurels. You have to keep the adrenaline going," she encouraged, looking over at her son and wondering how this packaged speech was affecting him now that his adrenaline was not super but normal. "It is normal..." she said, somewhat angry with herself for her choice of words, but she went on. "...to allow mental molasses to set in. It is easy to become sluggish and not have the energy that was there last night because last night was the first time in front of an audience. So keep on your toes. Keep the lines tight. Be ready to say your line almost on top of the person before. I don't want to hear pauses between lines that you could drive a bulldozer through. Keep the tempo up," she insisted. "I have loved working with all of you on this show. You made a statement last night, and today the town's reverberating with it. I heard people commenting at the Corn Festival. They are talking about us and passing the word on to their friends. So, there should be a lot of people out there tonight expecting the same excitement, the same spark, and the same play. Let's not disappoint them. Go out there and do it again!" * * * "Trask," Luthor said to the man on the phone. "Jonathan Kent is a friend of Irig's. Check that out." * * * Beatrice Drake was adjusting her costume. She hadn't heard from her daughter all day even though not only Bill Saxon, but also several other people at the Corn Festival, had mentioned how wonderful it must be for Beatrice to have her daughter back in town. Perhaps Mayson was out in the audience tonight as a surprise. That would be wonderful because Beatrice was looking forward to having her daughter see her on stage. Most likely, however, Mayson wasn't out there. Beatrice had sensed something in her daughter's voice when they spoke on the phone. She must've been planning something, something to get Lex Luthor. Beatrice was concerned that her daughter was not letting her in on what she was doing. They had agreed to work on this together, but for some reason Mayson had decided to leave her mother out of this. Beatrice sat down at a make-up table next to Lois and stared at her own reflection. Perhaps Mayson didn't want her mother connected with the next steps. Mayson might be protecting her. But Beatrice didn't want to be protected; she wanted--no, she needed--to be right in the thick of things. * * * Trask was increasing the pressure on Irig, but the interrogation was still yielding no results. * * * On stage, Clark was beginning his monologue. Although Clark had been very good this evening, he wasn't in the zone he had been in the night before. The audience didn't realize it, but Lois knew that the spark, the energy, the commitment just wasn't there. Lois attributed it to the mental molasses condition Martha had explained. But somehow that didn't seem like Clark. He would never let down. He would always give his everything to whatever he did. Tommy/Clark: I'm not intoning--I'm *yelling*! Don't you see this isn't about Vanzetti? This is about us! If I can't read this letter today, tomorrow none of us will be able to teach anything except what Mr. Ed Keller here and the legislature permit us to teach. Can't you see what that leads to--what it has led to in other places? We're holding the last fortress of free thought, and if we surrender to prejudice and dictation, we're cowards. (Crossing right.) Lois continued to watch Clark, but something was obviously happening. She wasn't sure whether it was the words of the play or the way Clark was looking at her, wanting to gain some strength from her support of him, but the energy in his performance was coming back. Ellen/Lois: (From her place on the settee) Tommy, no matter how deeply you feel about this, what can you do? What can any one man do? Except to lose everything-- Clark couldn't lose everything. He had to fight to get it back. He just had to. He dug deep down into some reserve, some inner place. Tommy/Clark: I have very little more to lose. And I can't tell you what I hope to gain. I can't answer that. I only know I have to do it. Clark looked down at his hands. He was feeling a strength there. He looked at the paper cut, and right in front of his eyes, it healed. He could hear his Dad back stage quietly counting down a cue. He was back! Damon/Donald: May we hear the letter--in a slightly calmer mood, perhaps? Tommy/Clark: Yes sir--(Crossing up to Ed) This may disappoint you a little, Mr. Keller. It isn't inflammatory, so it may make you feel a little silly. At least, I hope so. (He holds up the book.) Vanzetti wrote this in April 1927, after he was sentenced to die. It has been printed in many newspapers. It appears in this book. You could destroy every printed copy of it, but it would not die out of the language, because a great many people know it by heart. (He picks up the book and flips to the appropriate page.) Clark was reveling in the words. The strength in the message of the play was restoring a strength in him. He looked over at Lois. Her eyes were shining and he was gaining energy from that as well. He could see how much she loved him, loved him as Clark. He felt ashamed of his actions today. It didn't matter if he were normal or super. She had professed her love and he had not even acknowledged it. He had pushed her away because of Superman. First because he was Superman and then because he had lost Superman. When he had first become the so- called Man of Steel, he had done so with the idea that he would still be Clark. Superman was only what he could do. Clark was who he was. Yet he, himself, had gone against that premise. He was letting Superman dictate who he was and that was hurting Lois. Clark had to return his concentration to the play. He was once again going to read the powerful letter. A letter that spoke to what both Superman and Clark believed in and what they had to learn to balance. (Tommy reads, hardly referring to the book, watching them.) "If it had not been for these thing, I might have live out my life talking at street corners to scorning men. I might have die, unmarked, unknown, a failure. Now we are not a failure. Never in our full life could we hope to do so much work for tolerance, for Justice, for man's understanding of man, as now we do by accident. Our words--our lives-- our pain--nothing! The taking of our lives--the lives of a good shoemaker and a poor fish-peddler--all! That last moment belongs to us- -that agony is our triumph!" (Tommy closes the book.) The audience erupted in applause at the same spot they did the night before. Clark looked over at Lois as she reveled in his work and he made a decision. * * * Mayson pulled into town and entered Luthor's apartment. Lex looked up from the desk and rose to meet her, pulling her into his arms for another kiss. "Well?" he asked. "Mission number one accomplished," Mayson told him, handing him a sheet of paper. "Mission number two," she explained. "I knew Lois Lane was a slut," he said, looking at the name of Claude Peugeot documented in front of him. So Mayson's information fit right in with the steps he had planned for the other person on his team. And although Mayson had completed her assignment and he would continue to use her in many different ways, he decided not to let her in on all the facets of the plan. Even his attorney and his new lover should not know everything about him. "That's my girl," he said, and kissed her on the neck. Mayson, her face not being able to be seen by Lex, stared directly off into space with no emotion. * * * Once again Lois and Clark were alone on stage. Ellen/Lois: Make me turn. (Tommy/Clark does.) Don't be so rough--and take the hair off your forehead. (Ellen/Lois gently moves a lock of his hair while looking into his eyes.) You look terrible. (She lifts her face up to Tommy's/Clark's and they kiss.) "I'm completely in love with you, Lois," Clark whispered in her ear. "I will always be in love with you," he said, kissing her again. The curtain closed on the cast's final bow and Lois jumped into Clark's arms. "You were wonderful!" she exclaimed as Clark drew her to him and kissed her again, only the sound of the increasingly loud hubbub back stage pulling them apart. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, but their gaze was broken by Martha's entrance into the back stage area to congratulate the cast and crew. Clark ran up to his mother to give her a hug and whispered in her ear. "I'm back! Dad," he said as Jonathan came up to pat him on the back. "It's all right, now. Everything is super," he said, winking. "That's great, son!" Jonathan exclaimed. Lois came up to Martha and received a hug. "You were remarkable Lois," Martha said, smiling. "I'm not sure you really know how blessed I feel that you are part of this group, and that you and Clark..." "Mom!" Clark interrupted her. "What?" she asked, ignoring her son. "As if none of us know." Several community members had wended their way back stage and were giving flowers and congratulations to the cast. Barb Friskin skirted her way around several small groups of people and found Lois and Clark and pulled them aside to talk. "That was incredible," she told them. Bill Saxon came up to Barb's side. "Glad you could make it," he said, turning to look at the two leads. "Don't you think Barb would be a great addition to our group?" he asked Lois and Clark. "You *should* join us," Lois told her. "It's better than chocolate," she said, smiling as she and Barb shared a secret look. "Let me introduce you to some of the other members of the group," Bill said, dragging Barb away. "Better than chocolate?" Clark asked, putting his arm around her waist. "There are a *few* things better than chocolate," Lois told him. "Theatre and...this," she explained, turning to give him a kiss. "Hmmm, especially from you," Clark said, deepening the kiss. "Did I hear chocolate?" Martha asked after giving them a moment and then coming up to the pair once again. "How about joining us over at our house for brownies and ice cream? We have a lot to celebrate." * * * Trask had let Wayne Irig go, hoping that he would lead them to where the rock was hidden. Trask was right. Upon his release, Wayne headed straight for Martha and Jonathan's house. * * * The four members of the Smallville Players, fresh from another triumphant performance, drove toward the older Kent's home for dessert. Lois, not able to pass up chocolate--or being with the man she loved-- had accepted their invitation to join them and Clark in celebration, although she had fantasies about she and Clark being alone. she thought, looking up at Clark and snuggling back into his chest as they sat in the back seat of Jonathan and Martha's car. Clark loved the way Lois felt as she leaned back against him. He nuzzled his cheek against the top of her head and took in her scent. He just couldn't get enough of her. He held one of Lois' hands in his and gently stoked her delicate fingers. He wanted to be with his parents to celebrate the play and he knew that they wanted to secretly acknowledge the return of his super powers, but all he could think of right now was finishing his mother's offerings as quickly as possible and getting Lois alone. As the four alighted from the car in front of the house, Wayne stumbled toward them. "My God, look at you. What did they do to you?" Jonathan asked. "We're in trouble," Wayne told them. "Are you okay?" Clark asked him, starting to help him into the house. Wayne shook off Clark's help. "There are men," he said. "Men with guns. They want that green rock I gave you," he said, looking at Jonathan. We've got to..." Wayne began but was interrupted by the sound of a jeep pulling up. Trask and his men jumped out of the jeep, leveling rifles at the five surprised people. "Move them in," Trask ordered his men. "Let them know who they are dealing with and that the government doesn't put up with alien sympathizers." Martha and Lois were taken into one bedroom and locked in. Wayne and Jonathan were pushed into the kitchen and tied back to back in chairs. Clark was held at gunpoint and moved into the spare bedroom. "Look," Clark said, "I don't know what it is you want. But you hurt my parents or my friends and you'll have to answer to me. And believe me, you don't want that to happen." "Relax," Trask told him. "My business is with you. You and Superman," he said, punching in a number on the military phone. "We're in," he said to someone at the other end. Clark looked around the room, trying to figure a way out of this. Although most of his powers were back, there was some residual weakness and he wasn't sure he could move fast enough to prevent his parents or Lois or Wayne from getting hurt. * * * The limo driver turned left into a side street as Lex Luthor clicked off the cell phone and then dialed another number. "Sheriff Harris," he said. "There seems to be some disturbance at the Kent home." * * * Lois tried the door to the bedroom. Locked. Martha was up on the bed checking the window. "There's a man posted right outside," she informed Lois. "What are they doing, and what do they want with us?" Lois asked. "They're looking for something," Martha explained, still watching out the window. "Uh...uh...it's about a rock that Wayne Irig found, a dangerous rock." "That's what Jonathan called Clark about this morning," Lois said. "Yes, dear. Wayne needed our help." * * * "I'll make a deal with you, Clark," Trask informed him. "You give up the alien, and I will let you and the others live." "What makes you think I would do that even if I could?" Clark responded, glaring at the man in camouflage green. "Because Superman came to Smallville about the same time you were born. There has to be a connection," Trask insisted. "Now tell me and live!" "There's nothing to tell," Clark told him determinedly. "I'm learning all of this for the first time right now." "I'm trying to save humanity from an alien invader!" Trask told him zealously. "You have no proof of that," Clark informed him, staring at him steadily. "All right," the federal agent said, calming down and circling Clark. "There's another possibility. Perhaps this alien has taken over your mind." Clark looked critically at this man who supposedly worked for the government. Clark thought. "Perhaps he has infused you with his power?" Trask continued. "Nobody has infused me with power and no one has taken over my mind," Clark responded adamantly. "Colonel Trask!" a voice called from outside. "We've found something!" Trask moved quickly out of the spare bedroom, through the living room, and out toward the shed. Clark was left with only one man guarding him. The man turned slightly to watch both the door and Clark. Looking up quickly, Clark pulled down his glasses and two red rays shot up toward the ceiling fan hovering above the guard's head. Loosened from its moorings, the fan dropped on the guard, rendering him unconscious. Clark quickly spun into the red and blue and dashed into the kitchen where he untied his father and Wayne and then, smashing down the bedroom door, moved Lois and his mother out. As they returned to the living room, Trask re-entered with the box of Kryptonite. Opening it, he focused it on Superman, who crumpled in a heap on the floor. Lois, using a Tae Kwon Do move, kicked Trask in the chest, causing him to double over in pain. Trask's remaining two men rushed into the house but Martha and Jonathan were ready for them. Jonathan had grabbed a poker from the fireplace, while Martha had taken out a baseball bat from the corner closet. Both Martha and Jonathan struck their targets simultaneously, stopping them temporarily. Using what little power he had left, Superman channeled his breath toward the two soldiers, freezing them in their tracks. Lois seized the lead box and closed its lid. She carried it outside and deposited in on the porch swing and returned to Superman's side and kneeled down beside him. "Are you all right?" she asked. "Yes, thanks to you." Trask, recovering, rose to his feet and ran out the door. He snatched up the Kryptonite and ran toward his jeep. Two gunshots rang out. Lois looked around the room and into the spare bedroom. "Clark!" she called out fearfully. "Where's Clark?" Lois and Wayne ran out into the yard to see the back of a dark car pulling away, and Trask's body lying in the middle of the street. Superman, whose second exposure to Kryptonite had not been as lengthy, was beginning to gain his powers back. He dashed out the back door and spun once more into Clark, and as Clark, he came around the front of the house into Lois' waiting arms. "Clark, Clark!" Lois called out. "You're okay!" she said, holding on tightly to him. "Yes, Lois...Superman...I went for help," he explained as he heard the siren. "Oh, Clark," Lois said again. "You took a big chance in there," he said to her, cupping his hand alongside her face and looking deeply into her eyes. "I don't know what I would have done if..." Sheriff Harris and two deputies arrived and took control. An ambulance pulled up just behind them. "What's going on?" Rachel asked as the body was placed in the ambulance and the two deputies escorted Trask's men to the patrol car. "I'll come with you and explain," Wayne Irig told her. Lois and Clark walked back toward the house, passing by the empty porch swing. "It's gone!" Lois said. "What's gone?" Clark asked. "The green, glowing rock." * * * Now safely several blocks from the Kent home, the limo driver put the gun down and passed the lead box to the occupants of the back seat. Lex Luthor opened the box and a green glow emanated from within. Mayson Drake, sitting next to him, closed her eyes and wished she were anywhere but there. * * * "Mom, Dad," Clark said as he and Lois entered the house. "Are you both all right?" "Yes, dear, we're fine. What about you?" "I'm okay." "Where's Superman?" Lois asked, noticing that the Man of Steel was gone. "He had to go," Jonathan explained. "He said that Sheriff Harris could take it from here." * * * Later that night, Lois and Clark spent a few minutes together sitting on Lois' couch in each other's arms, not saying anything. "You must be exhausted," Clark said gently, looking into her eyes. "I want to stay," he said, cupping his hand on the side of her face, "but I should go and let you get some sleep." "I do need a shower and bed," Lois said, her mind playing with the idea of what it would be like to have Clark join her for both. But he was right. It had been an incredibly long and full day. After Clark had kissed her and left her at her door, Lois walked into her bathroom. She stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the water soothe her. Donning a robe, she came back out to her living room. She really was exhausted, but she had sort of gotten to that point where she was too tired to sleep. She walked toward her living room window and, opening it, breathed in the cool, crisp air and reflected on the day. She turned to look at her wall of Thoreau quotations. There were so many of them that meant so much to her and had always gotten her through. It was that quotation about love that had prevented her from giving up on Clark and now she and Clark were.... She walked toward the wall to straighten one of the frames, when she heard a whoosh and turned to face Superman standing in her living room. "Lois," he said. "I'm sorry that I had to leave before thanking you." "That's all right," she said. "Jonathan explained that you had another emergency. I'm just glad that you're better. What *was* that rock?" "It's part of a meteor that came to earth when I did." "So, you're from another planet?" she asked. "Yes, Krypton." "And that rock is...?" "Kryptonite, I guess," he said. "And it's dangerous to you," she said softly. "Apparently so," he responded. "Your quick thinking really saved me. So I have a gift for you." "You don't..." she began. "I mean, the rock is missing, so you don't..." "I want to," he said. "You have been there for me several times and perhaps you don't even know how much of a friend you've turned out to be. And, as a friend I need to say..." "I'd like to always be your friend," Lois interrupted. Superman handed her a package and Lois opened it. Inside was a small, beautiful, almost iridescent pink stone. "It's Brazilian Pink Quartz," Superman explained. "It's from the hills outside of Santa Rosa, Brazil, one of the loveliest places on earth." "It's exquisite," Lois said. "Thank you." "But it's not special enough yet," Superman said. He took the stone from her hand and, using his heat vision, began etching some words into the quartz. Lois watched entranced, when suddenly, Superman stopped. "I have to go," he said dejectedly. "Another job for Superman, I imagine?" Lois asked. "Yes, but keep this safe. I'll be back to finish it," he told her as he flew out the window. Lois looked down at the stone in her hand. "Friends...they cherish one another's hopes. They are..." she read aloud and then walked over to her wall of quotations, searching for the rest. "...kind to each other's dreams." * * * Sunday afternoon, the Smallville Players held their final performance of "The Male Animal." After the curtain calls and congratulatory visits, the cast changed into comfortable clothes and set about striking the set. Theatre tradition holds that all of the actors participate along with the crew in dismantling the set, removing the furniture pieces, storing the costumes and props, refocusing lights, unplugging sound equipment, and general clean up of the area. It was the director's job to set up work crews and make sure that all jobs are completed. Martha assigned Jimmy, Cindy, Keith, Lois, Clark, and Jonathan to take apart the set. She placed Beatrice and Cat on the costume crew, while Donald and Linda worked on props, lights, and sound needs. Martha took charge of moving the furniture pieces back to where they belonged, with Wayne and Bill's assistance. Wayne was feeling better after his interrogation by Trask and his men, and had insisted that he was there to help even though he had a small cast on his hand due to several broken fingers. Martha was making sure that his assignments were minimal and that it involved no heavy lifting. Jonathan was giving Lois a lesson in how to use the electric drill. He helped her put in the appropriate bit. Lois kissed Jonathan on the cheek as she walked over to the set. She looked over her shoulder back at Jonathan and smiled. He and Martha had come to mean so much to her. "Watch out!" Lois shouted. "There's a woman with power tools coming through," she quipped as she plopped down on the stage floor with her electric drill and began taking apart brackets that were reinforcing the walls on stage left. Clark noticed that a wall she was working on was ready to topple and he softly used his super breath to hold it until Lois stood up to hang on to the precariously perched piece. After laying that first section of wall down, Lois walked over to the next wall piece and inadvertently tripped over an extension cord, landing herself in Clark's lap. "Couldn't have worked out better if I planned it myself," he said, beaming at her and giving her a quick kiss. "Hey, you two," Jimmy called out. "Give the rest of us a break. We're never going to get this done and make it to the cast party if you two don't get down to work," he said, smiling at both of them. "Yeah," Lois agreed, pushing Clark's shoulder. "It's four- thirty and the party starts at six o'clock. "We also want to make the hayride that starts at eight, right Lois?" Clark reminded her. "Do you think we can do all of this, Clark?" she asked. "We can't miss the hayride!" he said enthusiastically. "It's the last event of the Corn Festival." * * * Lex Luthor sat in his study, holding open the lead lined box while the green, glowing rock radiated off his face, giving his features a macabre look. Mayson paused in the doorway. Although she knew that to achieve what she wanted, she had to be prepared to play rough, she wasn't sure that she could continue to do what Lex wanted her to do. Someday she may have to draw the line and refuse. Or had all lines been erased? Luthor looked up. "Here's the final proposed changes on your sentence and probation requirements," Mayson said, walking toward him. "All signed, sealed, and..." she sat down on his lap, "...delivered." * * * The cast party at the Kent house had been fun. The potluck was wonderful. Clark had made a pasta salad to go along with his mom's fried chicken, while Lois brought chocolate eclairs from the bakery. Other cast members brought baked beans, sloppy joes, rolls, and other salads and beverages. Wayne had received the award for best back stage worker and Beatrice had received the award for the person who did the most with a small part. The cast gave Martha a two-box video set of Famous American Trials--the Sacco/Vanzetti case and the Scopes Monkey Trial were the two chronicled. Martha mentioned to the group that "Inherit the Wind" would probably have to be a play she considers next as it concerned the Scopes Monkey Trial. There were hugs and kisses going around as the group said their goodbyes. Martha reminded everyone that a meeting to decide the next play was to be held in November and that auditions for that play would be the end of January. Clark gently pulled Lois out of his Mom and Dad's house and down along the street, as they quickly made their way to the high school parking lot where the three hay wagons were assembled. Clark lifted Lois up on to one of the wagons and climbed up beside her. They moved over to an unoccupied spot and sat down. The hay wagon started off and Lois could hear the clip clop of the horses' hooves and smell the wonderful scent of the hay. She looked up at the sky full of stars and sighed. * * * "Hello," Martha Kent said as she picked up the phone. "Mrs. Kent," the voice on the other end said. "This is Lex Luthor." * * * The passengers aboard the hay wagon began to sing. Shine on, shine on harvest moon, Up in the sky. I ain't had no lovin' Since January, February, June, or July. Lois curled up into the crook of Clark's arm as they lay amid the hay and the other couples, looking up at the stars. The October night was crisp and clear, even though earlier there had been a prediction of rain. Clark kissed the top of her head as she grabbed a piece of hay and stuck it in her mouth. "Well, shucks, Mr. Kent, if this ain't the most purdy night I ever done seen," she said, giggling. "Now Lois," Clark cautioned. "We don't talk like that." "Maybe it's better if you don't talk at all," she retorted and turned her face to his to kiss him. Snow time ain't no time To sit outdoors and spoon. So shine on, shine on harvest moon For me and my gal." Lois heard several of the couples singing but she had more important things to do. She nibbled on Clark's ear and he cupped his hand on the side of her face, turning it once more toward him, and kissed her deeply and passionately, totally ignoring the other couples, a few of whom were engrossed in doing the same thing. Clark drew back reluctantly and looked at the beautiful woman in his arms. He was astonished that such an amazing woman could be in love with him. She was the one person who he had hoped existed on this planet--a woman who was passionate about the same things he was, who wanted to stand up to the injustices of the world and who could love him for the man he truly was. Lois put her hand up to Clark's face and traced his lips with her fingers. "Lois," he whispered. "Tonight I feel so many things all at once-- happy, kinda scared too, excited, lost, found." "I'm the one who's been lost," Lois said to him. "And I'm so glad you found me." "I love you, Lois," Clark said, kissing her again. Lois melted into his arms. Who would have believed that the hard- boiled teacher/activist would be on a Kansas hayride with Mr. Greenjeans and loving every minute of it? Who would believe that Lois Lane would have found love in this remote corner of the mid-west? * * * Martha Kent looked around the luxurious d‚cor of the apartment on the fifth floor of the Smallville Bank Building. She was still unnerved by the phone call she had received earlier this evening just after the cast party. Martha knew what Lois and her son thought about Lex Luthor, and being there in his study was somewhat surreal and discomforting. Martha turned as she heard someone enter and breathed a sign of relief to see Mayor Cox. "Charles," she said, smiling. "Glad to see you here, Martha." The Mayor returned her smile. "I gather Lex Luthor has some plans for both of us." "Three of us," Perry White declared, entering the study. "Make that four," Barb Friskin said, following right on his heels. "Ladies and gentlemen," Lex Luthor stated, entering from a door at the far end of the room. "Welcome. I'm sure you remember Mayson Drake," he acknowledged as the attorney joined the group. The four visitors looked at each other. "Please," Lex Luthor insisted. "Sit down. We have a proposition for you." * * * The hay wagon made its way back to the high school parking lot and discharged its passengers. Couples moved to their cars just as thunder was heard in the distance. Clark put his arm around Lois and he led her to the small garden behind the building that held the science classes. The high school botany club was very proud of the garden and a plaque dedicating it to a retired science teacher marked the entrance. "Are you chilly?" he asked, smiling at her. "No," she told him, basking in the warmth of his smile. "I've been thinking about something for the last two days," Clark told her. "Thinking about what?" Lois asked, almost afraid to break the mood of where this might be going. "Sometimes you think you're immortal," he said as he turned he