Night Errant by Meredith Knight Rated: PG13 Submitted: January 2003 Author's Note: The idea for this story came out of a single line from ML Thompson's Super Stud, plus one of the key scenes which popped fully formed into my head one day. I found it convenient to use events from the Series 1 episode The Rival, so it's also an episode rewrite. This gives me the opportunity to rectify what I consider to be flaws in the original episode. It's probably my least favourite episode from S1, because Lois's role appears to have been written for cheap laughs. I'm not a fan of Postal Lois (except when she has good reason to be angry), and in my opinion she didn't get to be Metropolis's top investigative reporter by being ludicrously unprofessional. However, I remain deeply indebted to Tony Blake and Paul Jackson, scriptwriters for The Rival, from which I reused a number of characters, plot elements and ideas, and one or two lines of dialogue. I also used lines from several other episodes. I'd also like to thank my wonderful BRs for typo-pounces, masses of encouragement and excellent suggestions; also for brainstorming me out of several blocks. Thanks, Kathy, LabRat, Missy and Wendy - you're stars! Missy and her husband also came up with some wonderfully colourful metaphors for me to use in Perry's dialogue. Thanks also to Pam for emergency BRing and moral support when I was about to be late posting one chapter. :) And lots of waffy thanks to the readers on Zoom's MBs who oohed and aahed at the story, and then complained at the less-than-satisfying bits and made me improve them. You guys are invaluable. =========================================================== = Night Errant ~* Chapter One: A Date with the Truth *~ "We're not that different after all," Lois pronounced. "You think so?" Clark said, shooting a quizzical glance at her. She was bestowing a forgiving smile on him, clearly pleased with her deduction. "Sure," she said confidently. "According to Jimmy, if you go back far enough we're probably related." "Somehow, I doubt that," Clark murmured, an unholy amusement stealing over him. Lois raised an eyebrow, and he added hastily, "I'm from Kansas, remember?" "How could I forget?" Lois said wryly. Her face grew wistful. "I only wish..." "What?" he prompted as she hesitated. "I wish I knew what the globe really was. Superman wouldn't say. All he said was that it was his and he was glad to have it back." "You never know," Clark said uncomfortably. "Maybe one day he'll show you." "Maybe," she said, clearly unconvinced. She turned back to her computer and set to work on her article for the morning edition. Clark opened the file with the list of art treasures that had turned up in the mysterious vault below the museum. He read through the list, waiting for some connection to form in his mind and give him a lead to investigate. Instead, he found his mind wandering. Relieved and delighted as he was to have the globe back safely, he couldn't just shrug off the events of the past few days. The globe itself was about as safe as it could ever be, back at home in his Fortress of Solitude, but it had left its mark on them all. Lois, in particular; not only had she been livid over the fact that he had lied to her, but she had also felt obliged to protect Superman from him, which was verging on the surreal. In truth - he grimaced at the phrase - he was very tired of having to lie to Lois. With most people he didn't let it bother him; it was just something he had to do, to protect himself and them. With Lois it was different. If only he knew how she felt about him... He looked over at her. She was frowning at her screen, running a pencil absently along the line of her jaw. His eyes followed the movement. On a few occasions his fingers had traced that precise path, feeling the softness of her skin as they edged beneath her silky dark hair to cup her cheek. A few times he had even kissed those full lips that were pursed in thought as she concentrated on her story. And once or twice she had even responded, her lips coming alive beneath his, caressing and clinging to him. In the Lexor hotel, he was almost sure she had started to respond by the time the intrusive maid had removed herself from the room. And when Clark had pretended to be under the pheromone's influence, she had certainly kissed him back with enthusiasm - only then, of course, she was kissing Superman... Clark suddenly realised that Lois had turned her head and caught him staring. She was looking at him in gathering surprise. He forced a noncommittal smile to his lips and returned his attention to his screen, carefully controlling his physical response to prevent himself from blushing. He must be more tired than he had realised; usually he had no difficulty holding thoughts like that at bay, to avoid embarrassing himself. He came to a sudden decision. He got to his feet and crossed to Lois's desk, waiting patiently till she looked up from her screen. "We could do with a night off," he said. "How about I bring some takeout and a video over to your place tonight, and we can put our feet up for a change?" She hesitated for a moment, then smiled. "That sounds like a great idea," she said. "I need to finish this up, but should we say... seven?" "Great!" he said, smiling in return. He turned and walked away to get his coat, his heart pounding. Did that hesitation mean she was aware there might be more to his suggestion than pure friendliness - or did it just mean there were other things she'd rather be doing? Maybe it was time he found out. ********** Clark loped up the stairs to the roof of the Daily Planet building, spun into the Suit and took off, heading west. There was time for a flying visit to Kansas, he decided. His parents deserved to know in advance that he was thinking about talking to Lois. He landed in the yard, spun into comfortable clothes and went in at the kitchen door. Martha was already turning from her easel, delight spreading over her face. "Clark!" she said. "We didn't expect you back so soon. Your father and I put the globe in the treehouse earlier, then he went over to the Irigs'. He probably won't be back till late." Clark felt a slightly guilty relief at the news. He didn't really want to hear Jonathan's "dissect you like a frog" speech again - he knew it by heart, and he scarcely thought it applied to Lois, anyway. "That's okay, Mom," he said, bending and selecting a paint-free spot on her cheek for his kiss. "I just wanted to talk to you about something." She looked at him keenly, then pulled out a chair from the kitchen table. "Sit down, son," she said, and busied herself getting a glass of buttermilk. "Mom, you know Lois helped me get the globe back," he began as she put the glass in front of him and seated herself opposite. "And you know she was mad at me for concealing it from Superman..." "Yes?" she prompted, when he fell silent. He took a firm hold on his thoughts. If he couldn't manage to say this to Martha, he would never be able to broach the subject to Lois. "I'm starting to hope that... there might be something more than friendship between us," he said in a rush. "And if there is, I'll have to tell her that I'm Superman. Not just yet, but if we date for a while, and it goes well... she'll have to know some time." He looked up nervously to find Martha smiling at him. "We've always hoped that one day you'd find someone you felt like that about," she said comfortably, "and from the first time you mentioned Lois we knew there was something special about her." "I expected you to tell me to be careful," Clark said ruefully. "After all, it's your secret too." She shook her head and took his hand between hers. "We trust you, Clark," she said. "When we first heard about Lois we were worried she might print the truth about you if she found out, but she cares too much about you. And she didn't print anything about the globe." "I wish I was as sure about her feelings as you are," he said, grimacing. He took a long drink of buttermilk, then stared moodily into the glass. "She dates Lex Luthor sometimes, you know - she won't listen when I try to tell her what he's really like." Martha looked surprised. "You know how she feels about Superman," she pointed out. "She's more than half in love with you." "But, Mom, I'm not Superman," he protested. She groaned and glared at him. "Clark, *don't* start that again. Of course you're Superman!" He leapt to his feet and started striding about the kitchen in agitation. "Mom, Superman is this incredibly romantic guy who flies in and saves the day, and then disappears again. Just like a movie hero. He doesn't have to hold down a day job, he doesn't get hat hair, or... or catch colds... okay, I don't catch colds either, but I get angry sometimes, and I have to do laundry, and pay electricity bills..." He halted and turned to face her, looking tired and discouraged. "You can't fall in love with someone who only exists for an hour a day." "But Lois doesn't know he only exists for an hour a day," Martha said in a reasonable tone. "As far as she's concerned, he's a real, flesh-and-blood person; in other words, you. You seem to think she's very shallow... I think you need to have a bit more faith in her." He nodded, brightening. "Well, I'm going over to her place this evening," he said. "And I want to tell her how I feel about her, and find out how she feels about me - the ordinary me." "You're not ordinary, Clark," Martha pointed out, frowning. He grinned, and stooped to kiss her again. "You're my mother - you're biased," he said. "I'd better go, Mom. Thanks for the advice!" ********** By the time seven o'clock rolled around Clark had showered, shaved with his heat vision, and changed his clothes four times. He had finally settled on new jeans and a light blue cotton shirt: not too dressy, not too casual. The bamboo containers holding the takeout from Bangkok were in a plastic carrier bag so that they looked local, and the latest chick flick, as recommended by the video store assistant, was nestling under Clark's arm. After much thought, though, he'd rejected the idea of taking flowers; it would be too obvious, and he wanted to be sure Lois would at least let him through her front door. Standing outside that door now, Clark raised a hand to tug at his tie before remembering that he wasn't wearing one. The tight feeling in his throat was due to pure nerves. He took a deep breath and knocked. Lois answered the door almost at once. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and she was wearing jeans and a T- shirt of some soft material that clung to her curves... not too dressy, not too casual. She looked stunning, Clark thought - but then, she'd have looked stunning in a clown suit. He smiled at her. "Hi." "Hi." Her eyes met his for only a moment - was she also nervous? - and then dropped to the video under his arm. She tugged it out. "Ooh, Sleepless in Seattle - I love that movie! Come on in." He followed her in, and they spent a few minutes getting drinks, organising plates, and dividing up the food Clark had brought. Soon they were ensconced on one of Lois's hideously uncomfortable loveseats in front of the television, and Clark was dividing his attention between the movie, getting comfortable without making it obvious he was using his powers to support some of his weight, and watching unobtrusively as Lois savoured her meal - the way she closed her eyes with a sigh as she bit into the dim sum, the relish with which she licked satay sauce off her fingers. Nobody could worship food quite like Lois. When she reached the green curry, however, she started to slow down. By the time he had finished, her glass was empty and she was panting to cool her mouth down. "Can I get you another soda?" he offered, grinning at her. She shook her head and grabbed the remote to switch the movie off and mute the television. "I think I'll make some coffee," she said, getting to her feet and heading for the kitchen. "Want some?" "Yes, thanks," he called after her. He stacked the empty plates and followed her through. Would this be a good time to broach the subject of their relationship? "Admit it, Kent," she grumbled as he entered the kitchen, "you brought that curry just so you could watch me suffer." She slanted a grin at him and carried on filling the coffee machine. "Suffering builds character," he riposted, and she laughed. "Aha! So you admit that you enjoy torturing me?" Usually they could banter like this for ages, but tonight Clark found he couldn't keep it up; he had too much on his mind. He put the pile of plates down on the counter and smiled at her. "I always enjoy being with you, Lois," he said simply. Clark saw her smile falter at his more serious tone, but she didn't frown. Was that a good sign? She switched the machine on and turned to face him, evidently somewhat at a loss for words. "Lois, I was wondering if we could talk," he began. She looked at him expectantly, and he continued, "You were very angry with me when I lied to you about the globe, and we were going to talk then, if it hadn't been for Danny's phone call. I thought maybe we should talk now." She looked puzzled. "But, Clark, I told you I understood about the globe," she said, coming closer to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to explain, really..." She was standing very close to him. He slid his hands awkwardly into his pockets. "This isn't really about the globe," he said. You said you loved me like a brother, he added mentally. I want to know if you could love me like a lover... the way I love you. He couldn't just come out with it that baldly! "What, then?" she prompted. "Lois, I know you're dating Luthor..." he said. Instantly, he knew he'd made a mistake. Her eyes went cold and she stepped back, her hand falling to her side. "If you're going to attack Lex again -" she said ominously. "No!" he interrupted hastily. "I promise I won't say a word against him. It's just..." How could he possibly retrieve the situation? "You and I... I wanted to say..." His super-hearing chose that moment to kick in, and he froze, cursing inwardly. Could there have been a worse moment? <<... fire at the Nights Inn motel,>> a TV newsman was saying somewhere in the building. <> "Say what?" Lois asked, nearly deafening him. "Fire," he said without thinking, and winced. "I mean, my apartment... could start a fire... I left my iron on... I have to go and turn it off!" He was backing for the door even as he spoke. "Clark!" Her angry face spoke volumes, but there was no time to mend his bridges. "Keep watching the movie," he flung over his shoulder as he left the kitchen. "I'll be back later, I promise!" ********** ~* Chapter Two: The Rising Star *~ Lois just couldn't understand what had got into Clark. He was always running off without a reasonable explanation, but why right in the middle of a serious talk that he himself had initiated? The last time he had run away from a discussion with her she had been angry enough - but at least then he'd had the excuse of a phone call from that kid about his brother being kidnapped. This time he had no excuse at all, and she was fuming. The only explanation that made any sense was that he'd had cold feet about what he was going to say. Maybe her gut instinct, that he'd been going to tell her he felt more for her than just friendship, was right; and then he'd remembered her rule about never getting involved with anyone she worked with. Or else - her eyes narrowed - he really had been going to start in on Lex again, and her reaction had scared him off. Either way, he hadn't even had the decency to come back and finish watching the movie with her. She'd watched the rest of it, her attention only partly on the screen, and then gone to bed. She had tossed and turned all night, too angry to sleep properly, and woken feeling worse than she had the night before. And now, to add insult to injury, she had to decide what to do with the videotape. If she ignored it, Clark would have to pay an extra day's rental. For a moment, eyeing the offending object balefully, she was tempted to smash it to bits with a hammer and make Clark pay for a replacement. Then her sense of humour came to her rescue. On the whole, she'd rather hit Clark anyway. No, Clark might not have the consideration to know how to treat a friend properly, but she did. The video box had the store name on it; she would return it for him. It would mean she'd have to drive to work... no, she decided, she'd walk. It would be wise to work off some of this nervous energy before she had to deal with anyone at work. Particularly Clark. By the time she reached the Planet, however, Lois's temper was in shreds. She had forgotten just how much worse the morning traffic was when you were on foot. She had had an acrimonious exchange of words with a cabbie who had nearly mown her down trying to run a red light, and she had laddered her pantyhose stepping off the kerb to get round a couple of fat, garrulous women more interested in discussing last night's soap opera than in progressing along the sidewalk at a reasonable speed. She was going to make Clark pay for this, she vowed silently as she retrieved a spare pair of pantyhose from her locker. Thanks to her detour via the video store and the extra time it took her to change, she entered the newsroom a good ten minutes later than usual; yet there was no sign of Clark at his desk. She stormed down the ramp, nearly running into Cat Grant en route. "In a hurry, Lois?" the gossip columnist drawled, making no attempt to get out of Lois's way. "What happened, did you stay up too late watching Ivory Tower reruns on your own again?" It was so close to the frustrating truth that Lois could feel her colour rise. "How come you're in so early?" she returned. "I thought you ladies of the night normally slept later than this." Cat simply smiled at the jibe. "My, look who got out of bed on the wrong side this morning," she purred. "I did have a hot date last night, as it happens. *All* night. Maybe you should try it some time - it might sweeten your disposition." Lois swept past her with an angry growl. Not much chance of that if men kept running out on her at a moment's notice, she fumed. But what was the matter with her? She didn't want to sleep with Clark - she wasn't even sure she wanted to date someone she worked with. She had no idea how she would have responded if he'd worked up the courage to ask her out last night, instead of running away. No, she just wanted him to treat her as a friend, instead of blowing hot and cold on her all the time. And where was he now, anyway? Avoiding her after his appalling lapse of manners? She switched on her computer and checked her email - nothing. Clark usually let her know if he was following up a lead elsewhere before coming into work. A few minutes later, Perry started calling everyone into the conference room for a meeting. That explained Cat's early arrival, Lois realised; Perry always forewarned Cat if he wanted her to be in for a morning meeting. There must be something important on the agenda. Perry waited until everyone was seated and he had their full attention, then unfurled the morning edition of the Planet. The main headline read, "Midwest drought worsens", and the article below the fold was about the forthcoming meeting between Foreign Secretary Wallace and the Ambassador of Omir. "Superman saved several people from a fire last night," Perry said. "He's been helping the fire services fight the blaze all night. Thanks to Clark Kent, who phoned in a brief report in the early hours of this morning, we have a sidebar on our front page..." Lois's heart was hammering. Clark's iron hadn't *really* started a fire, had it? It hadn't even occurred to her that he might have a good reason for staying away... Then, as Perry put the paper down, she saw the full headline: "Superman fights hotel blaze". She breathed a sigh of relief, even as her annoyance with Clark mounted again. He was so desperate to avoid her that he'd spent half the night covering a lousy fire? "This is the front page of this morning's Metropolis Star," Perry said portentously. He unfurled a second broadsheet. This one had a banner headline about the fire, above a large colour photograph of Superman swooping down to pluck a victim from the top storey of the blazing building. "The Metropolis Star has consistently scooped us on every major local story in the last two weeks," Perry said. He was looking seriously concerned, Lois realised. "Their circulation figures are rocketing, while ours are steadily dropping. Our publishers are on the phone to me every day, asking me what I'm going to do about it. So now I'm asking you what *you* are going to do about it." Lois tuned out as Perry continued to expand on the evils of falling circulation figures and the possibility of staff cutbacks. The Planet had better journalists, there was no question about it. The run of luck the Star had been experiencing had to be just that, pure fluke; it couldn't last. Right now she was more interested in finding her errant partner and shaking some sense out of him, than in worrying about strategies for scooping the Star's two-bit hacks. Perry had moved on to asking each member of staff in turn what he or she was working on, and decreeing new stories or changes of focus to pep the paper up. Lois reported that she and Clark were still investigating the mysterious vault below the art museum, and Perry frowned. "I want you to put that on the back burner for a while," he said. "I need reporters out on the street, ready to report on the stories as they break, not an hour after they've broken. No, Lois -" He shook a finger warningly at her as she opened her mouth to protest. "- you know and I know what makes for good investigative journalism, but if we don't get these figures up soon there may not be a paper to publish the results in." So she was going to be walking the beat again, like a rookie? Lois fumed as she went back to her desk for her bag. At least she had worn flat shoes today for the walk to work. Still, she was damned if she was going to be the only one to suffer. She threw herself into her chair and reached for the phone. But there was no answer from Clark's apartment, and she slammed the handset back into the cradle in frustration. Clark was *so* going to pay for this! She stood up and called across the newsroom, "Jimmy!" Jimmy, busy loading film into his camera with loving care, started and turned an apprehensive face towards her. He obviously thought she was going to set him some research task which would keep him off the streets. The idea that someone at the Planet still held her in awe comforted Lois slightly, and she unbent enough to smile at him. "Didn't Perry say you were on photographer duty today? You may as well come out with me, since I seem to be short of a partner." At the acid tone of the last few words, Jimmy shot a sideways glance at Clark's empty desk and paled a trifle, but he called back a cheerful, "Great! Be right there!" Watching him swiftly gathering his equipment, Lois wondered cynically how long his bright-eyed enthusiasm would last when faced with a long, hard day pounding the streets. She turned and led the way out of the building. As they hit the street, Jimmy asked diffidently, "So where do we start?" "Might as well start with an update on the hotel fire," Lois said. She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled up a cab. It was also the last place Clark was known to have been, but she didn't need to mention that to Jimmy. ********** Arriving at the Nights Inn downtown, Lois was surprised to find that the fire was not yet out. The hotel itself was little more than a smouldering ruin, but the fire had spread some distance, and a number of fire engines and crews were still battling to control the blaze several blocks from the hotel. An ambulance station had been set up in a vacant lot across the street, and as Lois scanned the area she saw Superman landing there, an ominously still figure in his arms. She hurried in that direction, watching while he handed over the victim to the medical crew with a few words of explanation. As he turned away he was accosted by a journalist Lois didn't recognise, but who nevertheless looked oddly familiar. The woman asked him a question and then held out her cellphone to catch his answer. Neat trick, Lois acknowledged grudgingly. Approaching the pair, Lois caught the tail end of Superman's response, delivered in his usual deep, formal tones: "... shouldn't spread any further, but there may still be people trapped. Excuse me." He looked unusually grim, Lois thought as he turned and sprang into the air. There was something else about his face that tugged at her heartstrings, but she had no time to work out what it was. The auburn-haired reporter said a few closing words into her cellphone and hung up, turning with a satisfied smile. Lois smothered a startled gasp and stopped dead in her tracks. The next instant she staggered and almost fell as Jimmy, his reactions not quite up to the challenge, barged into her from behind. Lois recovered her balance and wheeled to wither him with a glare. "Sorry," he muttered hastily and darted off towards the cluster of medical staff, pulling out his camera. Lois turned back, plastering a smile on her face. What was Linda King doing back in Metropolis? "Linda," she said with false joviality. "It's been so long. You're back in civilisation again?" "Lois," Linda responded coolly. "I thought I'd run into you sooner or later. Yes, I'm working for the Star now. You know, Metropolis's top newspaper?" Lois snorted. "That depends whether you go by circulation figures or quality," she said. "The reading public has the final say on the quality that's appropriate, wouldn't you agree?" Linda said condescendingly. Bristling, Lois bit back a sharp retort. The Metropolis Star would soon run out of luck and plunge back into obscurity. She'd see to it personally if necessary, she vowed silently. "Have you been here long?" she enquired. "Had any articles published yet?" Linda smiled, a slow, self-satisfied smile that set Lois's teeth on edge. "I only started yesterday," she confided, "but I got the scoop on the hotel fire last night. I happened to be interviewing someone two blocks away for another story when it started. I'm just here for the followup." "That was lucky," Lois said, controlling her chagrin with an effort. "I imagine we'll be seeing a lot of each other in future, then. I'd better go - on with the story, you know!" She laughed brittly and turned on her heel. ********** The paramedics were all busy with patients, so Lois hurried across the road to get a firsthand perspective on the fire scene and interview the fire crews. There were reporters and camera crews all over the place, but no sign of Clark. Superman was dividing his efforts between helping to douse the remaining pockets of flames, and ferrying stretchered patients to the ambulance station. Within an hour the last of the fire was out, and Lois finally managed to get an interview with the exhausted fire chief. "The streets in this area are too narrow for us to get proper access, and these old apartment blocks don't comply with modern fire regulations," he said in response to her question about the extent of the fire. "We doused the surrounding buildings as best we could, but the wind shifted early this morning and the fire jumped several streets in quick succession. If it hadn't been for Superman's help it would probably have burnt clear through to the river." Lois asked a few more questions and then closed her notebook. "I expect you'll be glad to be able to go off duty now," she commented. The fire chief smiled sourly. "No such luck." He jerked a thumb skywards. "The big guy says there are no more victims trapped alive, but we still have to go through and retrieve the bodies, and check whether the gutted buildings are safe. I hope Superman'll stay on to help us with that - it takes about three times as long when we're on our own." "Good luck," Lois said. "And thanks for your time." She turned away and retraced her steps towards the ambulance station, feeling slightly sick. It was years since she'd reported on a large fire, and she'd mercifully forgotten about that part of the cleanup operation. Linda King was no longer in sight at the ambulance station, Lois was relieved to see. As she finished interviewing one of the paramedics, Superman came in with another stretcher. She waited until he'd finished handing over to a doctor, then called to him. "Superman! Do you have time for questions?" "Lois." He turned and strode over to her. "Yes, that's the last patient for the hospital." She studied his face covertly as she asked the rote questions. His manner was perceptibly less formal than it had been earlier with Linda, she noticed with a secret thrill; but he still looked grim, and something more than grim. As she asked about the change in wind direction earlier, he winced and dragged a hand down over his face, leaving a smudge of soot on one cheek. Lois suddenly realised with a shock that he looked tired. Superman wasn't supposed to get tired, was he? And there was a hint of some deep emotion in his eyes - pain? Anger? A flash went off behind Lois, and Superman blinked. Lois turned, ready to blister the photographer with a few choice words, but held her tongue when she realised that the culprit was Jimmy. He was only doing his job, after all. She turned back to Superman. "I don't suppose you've seen Clark?" she asked. He looked nonplussed for a moment at the abrupt change of subject, but recovered quickly. "He was here earlier," he said. "Should I give him a message if I see him again?" Lois smothered a grin at the concept of using Superman as a messenger boy; still, it would be useful if Clark was going to keep avoiding her all day. "It's just that I... we haven't heard from him this morning," she said, "and Perry White is on our tails about getting to the hot news before the Star does. Clark'll get into trouble if he stays out of touch for too long." She looked up at Superman. His eyes were intent, so she added, "The Star's been scooping us regularly, and they're starting to cut into our circulation. Perry's worried about the Planet cutting back, or even closing." He nodded. "I'll be sure to tell him if I see him," he said. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." Then his eyes suddenly shifted, and his face went blank. When he focused again, he looked sombrely at Lois. "Freeway pileup," he said tersely. "Want a lift?" "Sure! Uh, can I just tell Jimmy..." "I'll take him too." A moment later Lois found herself moving rapidly across the ground, Superman holding her with one arm around her waist instead of in his arms as usual. Then he was scooping up a startled Jimmy with the other arm and soaring into the sky to dart across town, leaving it to Lois to explain breathlessly where they were headed. ********** ~* Chapter Three: Knight in Distress *~ Thanks to Superman, the Daily Planet got the scoop on the pile-up story at least. Lois sent Jimmy back to the labs as soon as he'd taken a dozen or so shots of the accident scene, while she phoned in her initial copy for the afternoon edition and then returned to get more details for the morning's follow-up. By six that evening she had filed detailed reports on both the pile-up and the fire, and had also stolen some time to start a couple of lines of research into the history of the mysterious art treasures. The only fly in the ointment was that Clark still hadn't turned up. He'd left voicemail for her around noon to say that he'd be at the Hall of Records, researching the ownership of the land under the art museum, but that was hardly satisfactory. Lois was still itching to give him a piece of her mind about the way he'd treated her, and the longer she had to wait, the sharper that piece got. Finally, she gave up waiting for him to show his face at work, and headed home. She showered, changed into sweats and tossed a pre-packaged lasagne into the microwave, then tried Clark's apartment again. Still no answer. Too tired from her long day to go out for a run or do an aerobic workout, yet too restless to settle down with a book, Lois subsided in front of the television and did some channel-hopping while she ate. After a while a news bulletin caught her eye: campaigners in Chicago, where the Ambassador of Omir was engaged in trade negotiations, were protesting against the Omiri human rights record. Lois wondered whether there would be demonstrations in Metropolis next week, when the Omiri delegation arrived to meet with the Secretary of State. It would certainly liven the city up for a few days... The news announcer segued to local news, and after covering the freeway pile-up in some detail, gave a brief update on the fire. The video clip was from earlier in the day, but the voice-over said that Superman was still busy there, assisting with the cleanup operation. Watching, Lois was reminded how tired he had looked that morning. He'd been on the go all day; what must he be feeling like by now? She switched off the television and rose to dispose of her plate, her brow furrowed thoughtfully. Then she picked up the phone and called a cab. ********** Fifteen minutes later, Lois stopped her cab a block from the gutted hotel building and paid off the driver. The fire engines and ambulances were gone, but the street directly in front of the hotel was parked solid with official vehicles. A mortuary van pulled away as Lois approached. The hotel itself was a hive of activity; floodlights had been set up everywhere, and people with clipboards were busy examining the structure of the building. Lois lifted the yellow warning tape and ducked underneath it, waving her press pass impatiently at the young policeman who came hurrying up to intercept her. A small knot of men was standing around a trestle table in what had been a courtyard, and Lois spotted the familiar red and blue of Superman's uniform among them. As she walked up to the group, Superman was saying something about the ceiling of the dining room. A fussy little man with greying hair nodded and started conferring with the others about the best strategy for searching the building. Superman stood by patiently, answering an occasional question about the safety of various parts of the building. Lois listened, her annoyance mounting steadily. After a couple of minutes, she cleared her throat. "Excuse me," she said firmly and clearly. The discussion stopped short, and seven pairs of startled eyes fixed themselves on her. The fussy little man stepped forward. "I'm sorry, miss," he said self-importantly, "members of the public are..." "Lois Lane, Daily Planet," she interrupted. "Can you explain what's going on here?" The man's chest swelled. "This is an official investigation," he declaimed. "We cannot comment on the results until..." "I'm not interested in the results," Lois snapped. "I want to know what Superman is doing here." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Superman start and rub his shoulder self-consciously, but she kept her gaze riveted on the official. Superman folded his arms again and remained silent. The little man pursed his lips for a moment and then, as her attention showed no sign of wavering, said reluctantly, "He's assisting us with risk assessment of the investigation site." "I see." Lois raised her eyebrows. "And you are... ?" "Ernest Pickering, Fire Investigation Department," the man said. "Look, Ms Lane..." "Mr Pickering, isn't it the job of the Buildings Safety Department to assess the safety of buildings after a fire?" She waved an arm at the people busy in the ruins. "Isn't that what they're busy with as we speak?" "Yes, Ms Lane, but Superman is able to give us the information more quickly," Pickering said. "What's the hurry?" Lois asked. "Why can't it wait till morning?" Pickering smiled condescendingly. "They're predicting rain for the morning," he said. "It may destroy valuable forensic evidence. Now, Ms Lane, the sooner we can continue with our job, the sooner we can *all* go home." She nodded. "How long have you been here, Mr Pickering?" she enquired gently. "About two hours," he said, and glanced at his watch. "A little more." "And what have you managed to do so far?" Pickering began to turn an apoplectic shade of red. "We have set up operations and started the preliminary survey..." "Almost nothing, in other words. You don't *seem* to be in any great hurry. Tell me, Mr Pickering, have you any idea how long Superman has been on duty here?" He looked astonished. "I... uh..." Lois ostentatiously checked her watch. "I make it about twenty-five hours now. Aside from when he was busy with the freeway pile-up, of course." Pickering looked helplessly at Superman, who nodded impassively. Lois got a sudden strange feeling that Superman was enjoying the confrontation, but she dismissed the flight of fancy. After all, he hadn't shown much sign of a sense of humour to date. She went in for the kill. "Have you any idea what the labour laws say about allowing workers, particularly emergency workers, to work four straight shifts? No? Well, perhaps you should find out. You wouldn't want your department to get fined, would you?" Pickering deflated suddenly, going as pale as he had been red earlier, and lifted a hand to tug at his collar. Bingo! Lois thought, and wondered for an instant what other labour laws he'd been breaking recently. "And that's nothing to what'll happen if the Superheroes' Union gets wind of this," she added. Pickering opened and closed his mouth several times, but nothing emerged. Lois transfixed him with a steely glare. "Well?" she demanded. He looked at Superman and found his voice at last. "Thank you for your assistance, Superman," he said hoarsely. "I.. my team... we'll be able to carry on from here." Superman nodded. "You're welcome," he said solemnly. Before he could say another word, Lois grabbed his elbow. "Excellent!" she exclaimed. "Goodbye, Mr Pickering, and good luck with your investigation." She wheeled and strode away, drawing Superman with her. Their footsteps crunched loudly in the echoing silence as they left the rubble- covered courtyard; not until they were almost out of earshot did the conversation behind them resume. Halfway back to the street, Lois suddenly realised that Superman's arm was shaking. She shot a curious glance at his face, and was startled to discover that he was trying hard to suppress a fit of laughter. "S... Superheroes' Union?" he stammered after a moment. Her own sense of the ridiculous kicked in, and a chuckle escaped her. "It worked, didn't it?" A broad grin lit up his face. "Oh, it worked all right... his face, when you said he'd done almost nothing so far..." He broke into something that sounded almost like coughing; only, Superman didn't cough. Lois walked on beside him in silence, torn between amusement at the scene they had left behind, and amazement at this new and very human facet of Superman's character. They reached the street, and Superman lifted the tape for Lois to duck underneath; then he floated gently over it and landed beside her. He smiled warmly at her. "'Quis custodies custodiet?'" he said. She frowned at him in puzzlement. "'Who shall watch the watchers?'" she queried. "Or in this case, who shall take care of the guardians," he said. "Thank you for your concern, Lois." "It looked like someone needed to tell you when to quit!" she retorted. "My m..." he started, then seemed to think better of whatever he'd begun to say. Her eyes narrowed, but he went on glibly, "I dare say you're right. You're a force to be reckoned with, Lois." As she regarded him dubiously, wondering whether that constituted a compliment, he added, "Can I walk you to your car?" "I came by cab," she said. "I didn't want to park in this area at night." "May I offer you a ride home, then?" "Thank you, I'd enjoy that." She smiled at him as he scooped her into his arms, then they were airborne. ********** Thank heavens he had taken five minutes to shower and change after he'd finished locating the last of the bodies for the fire crew, Clark reflected as they flew; otherwise Lois would have been covered in soot and reeking of smoke by the time they reached her apartment. Perhaps she was right, and he should have stayed away from the fire scene afterwards, but the sick feeling in his belly wouldn't let him relax. It was better doing something - even something banal and pointless - than sitting at home with his conscience. And then Lois had come to his rescue, like a breath of fresh air. No, that didn't even come close to doing her justice. Like a sail to a shipwrecked sailor; like a shaft of sunlight to a prisoner in a dungeon. The guilt was still gnawing away inside him, but when he focused on Lois the world miraculously seemed sane and whole again, no longer bleak and filled with nightmares. He negotiated the window that Lois had conveniently left unlatched, and drifted down to the living-room floor. He gently lowered Lois to her feet, and her clasp loosened from about his neck, but one of her hands lingered on his arm. He looked down into her starry eyes and mentally took a step backward. He might be starving for her touch, desperate for her company to keep his demons at bay a little longer, but he couldn't ignore the warning signs: the blind hero-worship in her gaze, the way her heart had thudded and her breathing had quickened when he had picked her up. He needed to keep a firm grip on his reaction to this woman. Her tongue slid out to moisten her lips in unconscious invitation. At least, he hoped it was unconscious. "Thanks for the ride," she said. "And I haven't thanked you yet for taking Jimmy and me to the scene of the pile-up today. We scooped the Star, for a change." "You're welcome, Lois. I'm happy to help the Daily Planet; you've been good friends to me in the past." Perry was going to kill him when he got in tomorrow, Clark thought with a sudden twinge of worry. He wouldn't be aware that Clark had been looking out for the paper's interests, only that one of his reporters had been AWOL - and in a time of crisis, too. Hard on the heels of that thought came another, and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. Lois was going to skin him alive. He had scarcely thought about their parting since last night, and not at all since the early hours of this morning, but now it struck him full force just how rude he had been to run out on her, and how she was likely to view his absence since then. Tomorrow was going to be one of the worst days of his life, unless he could do some very fast talking. And for that he would need to have had some sleep... if the nightmares would let him. He stepped away from her, towards the open window. "Good night, Lois," he said, and turned to leave. "Superman!" He swung back, startled by the sudden urgency in her voice. "Are you all right? You look... upset." He stiffened, and straightened his shoulders with an effort. Was the carefully impassive Superman persona failing him? Just how much could Lois see of his inner turmoil? "I'm fine, Lois, really. You don't have to worry about me." He groaned inwardly. Nice move, Clark, he reproached himself - like that's going to put her off! Sure enough, she stepped closer and laid a hand on his folded arms, her eyes darkening with concern. "You don't sound fine. Would you like to stay and talk? I could make some coffee. You do drink coffee, don't you?" "Yes, I do," he said, momentarily distracted. "I mean no, thanks, Lois, I don't think I should stay..." He stopped for a breath and tried to pull himself together. He had to think faster than this if he was going to stay ahead of Lois. "It's late, and I should go." "It's not that late. Is there someone else you can talk to?" His mind flitted to his parents. They listened when he talked about some of his troubles, and nearly always helped him to see things in better perspective, but he couldn't talk to them about the real horrors of Superman's job. They were simple farmers; they weren't equipped to deal with horror and evil. Clark realised Lois was waiting for his reply, a frown gathering on her face. "It doesn't matter," he said firmly. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." He pulled back the curtain and prepared to step up onto the windowsill. "Is this some guy thing?" she said angrily. He wheeled, astonished. "I beg your pardon?" "You guys like to think you're so macho, and you don't need to talk about your worries, or your feelings. You think it'll make you look weak, or something. And even when you do start to talk, you'll just up and run away if it gets too personal!" Her eyes were flashing with scorn. She was no longer talking about Superman, Clark realised with a sinking feeling. He must have hurt her really badly the previous evening, if she was taking it out on her hero. "I think you're being a little unfair..." he said cautiously. "Oh yeah? Why don't you want to talk about what's bothering you, then?" Because I don't want you to get to know Superman, I want you to get to know Clark! He hesitated, casting about for inspiration. "Is it because I'm a reporter?" she said suddenly. "Do you think I'd publish what you told me?" "No, Lois, of course not!" "Because anything you say is strictly off the record," she swept on, disregarding his response. "I only want to help because you're a friend, and I... I care about you." She sounded genuinely wounded, and Clark conceded defeat. He was simply no match for Lois in Mad Dog mode - not when he was so tired, anyway. He let her lead him away from the window, and subsided onto one of the loveseats with a silent sigh, propping his elbows on his knees. ********** Lois closed the window and went to fill the coffee machine. A strong sense of deja vu swept over Clark. This time, however, there was no call to action to rescue him from the impending conversation. After a minute, Lois came back from the kitchen and seated herself opposite him. There was a pause; Clark studied his hands, feeling Lois's eyes examining his face intently. "Is it the fire?" she asked quietly. "Yeah," he said. Mostly the fire, anyway. He couldn't think of anything to add. Maybe she'd realise what a dumb idea this was, and let him go... "Was it a bad one?" "No... Well, yes... It wasn't that bad at first..." This time Lois let the silence lengthen, and Clark found himself thinking back to how the hotel had looked when he'd first arrived: the kitchen wing at the back engulfed in flames and the fire starting to take hold down one side of the main building. And the sounds - the roaring in the kitchen itself, the terrified screams of the people trapped by the mounting flames... The sounds always came back in his dreams. "They're all bad," he said suddenly. "Fires are the worst - the worst I've had to deal with, anyway. When people set out to hurt each other, or they just don't care who they hurt, that's tough to deal with sometimes, but fire... Fire isn't like a force of nature, it's like a great, malignant, ravening beast, devouring everything it can reach... buildings, people's treasures... people... animals... everything. While I'm trying to get to someone who's trapped, it's finding something else to gobble up, behind my back. And the noise..." His hands were gripping each other, twisting together. He was conscious of the desire to grab something, clench it in his hands until it exploded into dust... He reached for a fold of his cape instead and forced himself to pleat it gently, controlling the destructive, dangerous emotion. "When they're screaming, that's bad enough, but it means I can find them. The other ones... I can't hear their breathing or their heartbeats over the fire. And I can't just x-ray a room at a time, the way I usually can, because of the smoke - I have to scan through the whole room to make sure that no one's there, and it takes so long... and then, when I get there -" His voice cracked, and he stopped to clear his throat. "When I get there, sometimes they're so badly hurt, I don't know how to pick them up so I don't hurt them more. But I have to move them right away, or they'll die..." His cape was twisted and crumpled. He pushed it aside before he tore a hole in it, and clasped his hands again. Lois was silent, and he glanced up at her, anticipating horror and revulsion on her face. But although her eyes were riveted on him, they showed only deep sorrow and sympathy. "The firemen must have that problem, too," she said. He hunched his shoulders defensively. "I guess so," he conceded. "It doesn't make it any easier to cope with..." "I guess they have their team to help them cope with it," she said thoughtfully. "And they get counselling sometimes when it gets really bad. It's not surprising you find it difficult to deal with on your own. You shouldn't *have* to deal with it on your own." "You're saying I should see a shrink?" He laughed mirthlessly. "That would look great in the tabloids! I'm the most powerful person on Earth, Lois - if people thought I might be going crazy, they'd panic. And rightly so." "You're too hard on yourself," she said firmly. "Nobody thinks regular emergency workers are crazy if they get counselling. Just because you're invulnerable physically... Well, I don't think it's occurred to most people that you have human emotions," she concluded, looking slightly shamefaced. Clark shrugged noncommittally. He wasn't altogether comfortable with the idea that Lois was starting to view Superman as human. It was safer if he seemed godlike, unattainable. "Were many people injured this time?" she asked after a while, when he didn't reply. "About forty, I think," he said. "And nine dead." He couldn't prevent the harsh note that crept into his voice, and he winced inwardly; then it occurred to him that he could turn the conversation to advantage. If Lois knew her hero had feet of clay, perhaps she'd be a bit less keen on him. "And most of them were my fault," he added. "Why do you say that?" she asked softly. "Five people were dead by the time I got there," he said. "Two of them probably died instantly - they were in the kitchen, right near the explosion - but the others..." He swallowed. He was back in the gutted building, looking at the twisted, blackened bodies as the firemen freed them from the debris. "I didn't hear about the fire until it was too late. I should have been there sooner." "Why didn't you hear earlier?" "I was... with someone, a friend, talking, and I just didn't hear the sirens. I should have been paying more attention!" She nodded thoughtfully. It suddenly occurred to him to worry that she would take the mention of a friend as licence to ask about his private life; but her next words seemed to be going off on a different tangent altogether. "What's it like, your super-hearing? You can turn it on and off, right?" "Right," he said, grateful for a less painful topic of conversation. "I can tune it in to a certain area, or a certain type of sound - it's like normal hearing that way, only more selective. I can focus on your heartbeat..." He did so for a moment, feeling his taut nerves automatically relax a little at the familiar, beloved sound. "... or I can focus on what people nearby are doing..." He broadened his focus and then homed in on the various television sets he could hear. "Your right-hand neighbour is watching a movie - Casablanca, I think... Someone on the top floor is watching LNN... Over the road, they've got the football on, but whoever was watching is snoring..." She grinned. "Are there any limits to what you can hear?" "Oh, sure," he said, shrugging. "I can't hear clear round to the other side of the world, if that's what you mean. I can hear pretty much anything that goes on within a few city blocks of me. And some things - sirens, for example, or someone calling 'Help, Superman!' - I seem to be able to pick up from several miles away." "Does it ever get overwhelming, being able to hear all of that?" He shook his head. "I don't let myself hear all of it at once - it's too loud. I have to shut my super-hearing off completely to be able to concentrate on my normal hearing, like this conversation. A few times, when I was first learning to use it, I wasn't able to shut it off. Yeah, I guess that was overwhelming... frightening..." He flushed suddenly, remembering his first ever experience of super- hearing. "And sometimes downright embarrassing." She nodded again, watching him intently. "So how come you blame yourself for missing the sirens last night?" His eyebrows shot up. "What?" She frowned at him and spoke with exaggerated patience. "You've just admitted that you can't carry on a normal conversation while you're concentrating on your super- hearing, and that you rely on some sort of special instinct to pick up calls for help. So how is it your fault that you missed the sirens last night while you were talking to your friend? You don't sit in a tank all day between rescues, listening out for distress calls. I mean, I assume you don't." He had to grin at the image, but his mind was whirling. Lois thought it was okay for him to arrive late at an emergency because he had a private life? "What about the others?" she asked. When he frowned in confusion, she added, "You said only some of them were dead when you got there. What happened to the others?" Clark felt his jaw set as he remembered. "That was all my fault. I thought we had the fire under control - it was nearly out. I flew a couple of the worst-injured patients to the hospital, to get them into intensive care, and then I... made a detour on the way back. I thought it wouldn't matter if I took a few minutes off. And while I was gone the wind changed, and the fire spread right through the evacuation zone and into apartment blocks where people were sleeping. Four of them died because I... I was playing hooky!" "Were you talking to Clark?" His eyes flew to hers in astonishment. After a moment he managed to suppress his panic and ask, with what he hoped was a reasonable appearance of nonchalance, "What do you mean?" "Clark phoned in a report on the fire in the early hours of the morning. I just wondered if you decided to let him know about it, that's all. Superman, you couldn't possibly know the wind was about to change -" "But I shouldn't have taken the chance! It was completely irresponsible, and four more people died because of me!" He buried his face in his hands. "Two of them were just little kids, Lois. Their parents..." He had to clear his throat again. "Their parents are going to be grieving the rest of their lives because of me." He felt Lois's hand settle reassuringly on his shoulder. "Superman, all those people died tonight because of the fire. Not because of you. Have you any idea how many more people would have died if it hadn't been for you? The fire chief said the fire would have burned all the way to the river without your help. That's an awful lot of sleeping people." "But I should have been there!" Her hand gripped his shoulder. He had the impression she would have liked to shake him. "Superman, you *can't* protect the entire population of Metropolis, all the time," she said forcefully. "People die, and yes, it's tragic, but it's one of the things we do. You have phenomenal powers, and you're responsible for using them to the benefit of others - we all have that responsibility with whatever abilities we have. But you're not responsible for our lives." He lifted his head to look at her. "'Whatever I can do, it's enough.'" She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he added, "Something you once said about me to Clark." "And I was right," she said firmly. "Do you know how many fires used to flare up again after the fire crews went home? They used to smoulder under the floorboards or in wall cavities, sometimes for days. I did an article on it back when I was a cub reporter. That hardly ever happens any more, because of your x-ray vision. You have to focus on all the good you do, Superman, not on the rare occasions when it's not enough." Clark nodded silently. He didn't find it as easy to dismiss his responsibility as she evidently did, but he could feel the hurt inside him begin to ease at her words. Perhaps in time he'd be able to forgive himself. "It was arson, you know," he said suddenly. "I could smell traces of plastic explosive in the kitchen." Lois stiffened and sat back on the couch, removing her hand from Clark's shoulder. He felt almost bereft, but he didn't allow himself to react. Glancing at her face, he was surprised to see that she was looking embarrassed. "I guess you must wonder sometimes why you bother," she said in a low voice. "There you are, trying to make the world a better place, and meanwhile the humans you're trying to save are doing their best to kill one another." He shook his head quickly. "It's not like that, Lois. You said it yourself, it comes down to individual responsibility. People like you are doing their best to make the world a better place, too - fighting crime and corruption by exposing it and removing the perpetrators from society." "I guess so." She was silent for a while, thinking, then she added wistfully, "There always seems to be another criminal, though; another evil to fight. You give us hope, Superman. Maybe one day the world will follow your example and put an end to it..." Then she shrugged off the solemn moment. "I promised you coffee," she remarked, smiling. "I'd better go and get it." "Thank you, Lois - for everything," Clark said. He had to repress a sudden impulse to seize her hand and kiss it. She had noticed his involuntary movement, but she didn't comment; she merely got to her feet and headed for the kitchen. Clark let out a shaky breath and dropped his head onto his arms. He wasn't at all sure it had been a good idea to let Lois talk to Superman so intimately, but he had to admit he was feeling a thousand times better. He would drink his coffee quickly and then go. With a bit of luck, he'd be able to sleep tonight without the nightmares. ********** ~* Chapter Four: The Best Laid Plans *~ Lois slowly gathered the coffee things, giving herself a bit of a breather. She would never have guessed that the most powerful being on Earth would be so doubtful about his own abilities. She had ached for him as he spoke about the horrors he had to face, the deaths he felt responsible for. By good fortune more than anything, what she'd said seemed to have reached him; he had still looked exhausted when she had left the living room, but the haunted look had gone from his eyes. Superman also had more of a private life than she had imagined. Well, she had to admit that she had never really thought about his private life beyond wishing she featured in it. He had friends that he visited and talked to... she felt a sharp pang of envy. She'd always thought of herself as his friend, and she felt she'd proved it on more than one occasion, too, yet he'd never visited her just to talk... Did that mean he didn't value her friendship? But perhaps he would, after tonight. She hadn't missed his double-take when she'd mentioned Clark, either. He obviously visited Clark regularly, even after Clark had hidden that globe thing from him. Just how close were the two men? Superman hadn't mentioned Clark, as she'd thought he might, when she'd asked him whether he had anyone else to talk to. Yet Clark had told Superman what she had said about "whatever he could do" being enough; how much more had Clark told him? Some of the things she'd said to him about Superman... she blushed to think of those being passed on. She pictured Superman sitting in Clark's apartment, relaxed, the way men were around each other, not sitting tensely the way he was doing now. That sense of humour he had shown tonight for the first time... did they laugh and joke together? And occasionally, in the middle of a conversation, Superman would abruptly get called away to a rescue. She pictured him getting that faraway look, then politely saying "Excuse me," in that deep voice of his; then he would suddenly be gone. That would be... wow. But very frustrating too, she acknowledged as she finished pouring the coffee. Still, it hadn't happened tonight. They had had a lengthy conversation, and he was still in her living room, waiting to drink coffee with her. Unlike some people she could name, she thought acidly, remembering the coffee that had gone to waste last night; but she wasn't going to let Clark spoil another evening. She picked up the tray and carried it out into the living room, putting it down on the little table beside Superman. He was still sitting on the loveseat where she had left him, his legs braced apart and his elbows resting on his knees; but his head had sunk into the crook of one arm, and he was fast asleep. A great wave of tenderness welled up inside Lois. She wanted to reach out and stroke his hair; she wanted to gather him up in her arms and cradle him against her body. She did neither; she sat down opposite him and sipped slowly at her coffee, waiting for him to start awake again. Her eyes dwelt lovingly, lingeringly, on his smooth hair, what little she could see of his buried face, his hunched shoulders under the scarlet cape, the muscles of his legs outlined by the blue tights... After ten minutes, she had to admit to herself that he wasn't going to wake of his own accord any time soon. But what was she going to do with him? It went against the grain to wake him up just to send him home - wherever "home" was. She imagined him passing out again on the way home, and ploughing into a mountain or a building; no, that would never do. But she couldn't just leave him here, asleep, and take herself to bed. If he slept all night in that position he'd be awfully stiff in the morning... that is, if Superman got stiff muscles. But if he could get tired, maybe he could get stiff, too. If she could get him to lie down... but the loveseat looked way too small to accommodate that large, powerful body. It would make more sense to get him into her bed; then she could sleep on the couch herself. But how on earth was she going to get him there? She pondered for a minute, setting her empty coffee mug down. Then she leant forward and placed her hand gently on his shoulder. "Superman," she said softly, close to his ear. He shook his head slightly and made a sound of protest, deep in his throat. She felt the muscles under her hand bunch, and her mouth went suddenly dry. "It's time to go to bed," she went on in the same soft, soothing voice. "Bedtime," she repeated clearly as he shifted again. His head came up, but his eyes didn't open. "Okay, Mom," he mumbled. Lois's mouth fell open in surprise, but she pressed her advantage, getting to her feet and tugging at his shoulder. He stood up slowly, still fast asleep, and she piloted him painstakingly to the bedroom. Once there, she backed him up against the bed. "Sit down," she said, and he sank obediently onto the edge of the bed. She knelt down at his feet and fumbled with one of his boots; after a moment he bent forward and helped her to take off both boots. He didn't stop there, however. As Lois stood up and pulled back the covers, about to instruct him to lie down, he reached under his cape and unzipped the back of his suit. She took a startled step backward and watched open-mouthed as he pulled the suit down as far as his waist and then took off the harness underneath that held his cape. She hadn't turned the bedroom light on, but the glow of light from the living room was enough to reveal his perfect physique; everything the tight spandex had promised, and more. Lois longed to run her hands over that smooth olive skin, to feel those pectorals and biceps bulging under her fingers... He stood up abruptly, reaching for his belt. Lois gasped and backed as far as the door, but she couldn't manage to tear her eyes off him as he methodically stripped off the rest of the suit. Underneath it was a pair of dark- coloured briefs; flushing scarlet, Lois prepared to exit the room in a hurry if he started to remove those. But he turned and felt for the bed instead, heaving a long, contented sigh as he stretched himself out on his stomach and relaxed. Within seconds his breathing was deep and even again. Shaking, Lois tiptoed forward and pulled the covers over him, managing with some difficulty to keep her eyes averted from him as she did so. It was bad enough that she had watched him as he undressed; she mustn't take any further advantage of his vulnerability. Although the temptation was almost more than she could bear - her whole body was trembling with desire for him. She turned away and picked up his suit and cape from the floor. They still held an echo of his warmth, and she held them up to her face for a moment to inhale his scent before she forced herself to drape them neatly over a chair. Then she opened a drawer and retrieved a pair of sensible flannel pyjamas before tiptoeing out of the room again. She closed the door behind her and leant against it for a minute while she caught her breath. Superman was lying in her bed, almost naked. And she was going to get a blanket and a pillow, change into the least alluring nightwear she had, and go to sleep on the couch. Alone. And try not to think about Superman again until morning. ********** An hour and a half later, Lois gave up chasing sleep. Her couches were just too darned uncomfortable to sleep on; she couldn't imagine why she'd ever bought them. She'd tried each in turn, and she'd even tried pushing the two together, but it was no use. She got up and padded through to the kitchen for a drink of cold milk. Then she opened the bedroom door a crack and peered in. Superman was still sleeping as she had left him; by the look of it, he hadn't even stirred. He was lying right over on one side of the bed. The other side, her usual side, was empty. It wouldn't disturb him if she tiptoed in and lay down there. She could lie with her back to him, and they wouldn't even touch. For a moment her stomach clenched at the thought of lying so close to him, but she fought down the wave of desire. She was an adult, not a silly adolescent schoolgirl with a crush on her best friend's big brother. She could control her wayward longings; nothing untoward would happen, because she would never take advantage of Superman like that. She stepped silently into the room and slipped into bed beside him. ********** Clark was dreaming. The fire was all around, roaring and sucking greedily at him. He picked up the sound of terrified screams and hastened in that direction, even though he knew he would be too late. He was always too late. He found the children huddled in a corner, hiding their faces from the approaching wall of flames. Miraculously, they seemed unhurt; their hair and clothes weren't ablaze, their skin wasn't blistering and blackening before his eyes. He scooped them up and shot out of the burning building. Their parents were standing on the grass outside, grateful tears streaming down their faces, and as Clark handed them over the mother dropped to her knees to embrace them while the father wrung Clark's hand and thanked him effusively. Clark turned and flew back into the inferno, searching for the other victims he knew were there. His powers didn't start to fail; the fire licked hungrily at him, but he didn't start to feel the agonising heat. He located person after person, always in the nick of time before the flames reached them or the building collapsed around them, and delivered each one to safety. As he flew out of the flames for the last time, carrying the last trapped person to safety, he saw the crowd gathered on the grass below him, silently waiting. He flew more slowly, dreading the approaching confrontation, but he knew there was no escaping it. He swooped down and handed his charge over to the paramedics, then turned to face the crowd. They didn't boo and hiss at him. They didn't turn on him and drive him back into the flames. Instead there was a brief silence, then a smattering of applause. Clark knew that something was uncannily different about the scene. The dream never went like this; everything he tried to do always went horribly wrong. And then he realised what the difference was. He could hear Lois's heart beating close by. Lois was with him this time. He turned and she was there, smiling encouragingly at him. He held out his arms and drew her slowly into his embrace, resting his cheek against her hair for a timeless moment as they soared through the air. Then he flew over the fire, still holding her close to him, and blew on the flames with his super-breath. The fire died and the world was quiet, except for Lois's heart thudding against his. The fire scene disappeared, fading into a different, no less familiar dream. He was no longer Superman, but Clark; the Suit had gone, replaced by... by very little other than bedclothes. He was still holding Lois close to him, however, and her heart was beating rapidly, in time with his. He felt the silk of her hair whisper across the skin of his shoulder as she lifted her face towards his. He lowered his lips to hers, and heat flared instantly between them. Her mouth opened to his in a mute invitation he was quick to answer. He clasped one hand around the nape of her neck, holding her close as his tongue danced with hers and probed the depths of her mouth; the other hand began a leisurely exploration of her body's soft curves. The dream was unusually vivid and detailed. He could taste the coffee in her mouth, hear her breathing quickening as they kissed, feel her fingers gently caressing the skin of his chest and shoulder, sending tremors of excitement through him. To his disappointment, her clothing didn't melt away as it usually did; but his hand quickly found its way underneath her shirt to explore her back, and she shivered and arched her body against his. He stroked her skin, savouring the warmth and fine texture beneath his fingertips. As he worked his way slowly around from her back to her side, the material began to get in his way, and he pulled away from her slightly and made swift work of unbuttoning her shirt. Finally, his hand brushed the fabric aside and stroked across the soft smoothness of her stomach, and she shuddered and moaned deep in her throat. At the sound, he froze for a long, stunned moment. Then he lifted his mouth from hers. "This isn't a dream," he whispered. Her rapid breathing slowed a little. "No, it isn't," she agreed. He had never heard that particular smoky, sultry tone in her voice before, and another shock of desire shot through him. But he had to find out what was going on. They had been eating Thai takeout and watching Sleepless in Seattle together; the last thing he could remember was following her to the kitchen, wondering whether to bring up the subject of their relationship. Everything after that was a complete blank. "Lois, I... I don't remember... going to bed," he faltered. "You fell asleep after we talked," she said. "You were so tired I didn't want to wake you, so I put you to bed." So they *had* talked? He tried to remember telling her he loved her - it wasn't the sort of thing one would want to forget! - but nothing came to him. Judging by the way she had been kissing him a moment ago, she must have decided she loved him too... *why* couldn't he remember her saying so? Granted, he was still very tired and confused, as well as being constantly distracted by the movement of her hand on his skin. His bare skin... "You undressed me?" he asked suddenly, incredulously. He couldn't imagine Lois wrestling his jeans off while he slept - he hadn't been *that* tired! She chuckled. "No, you did that yourself," she said. "You seemed to be on autopilot." The movement of her chest had reminded him that his hand was still resting in a very intimate position. "I'm sorry," he gasped, pulling it away and fumbling for the edge of her shirt to cover her decently. "Don't be sorry," she murmured deliberately, leaning forward and drawing his head towards hers. As her lips closed on his, he groaned and abandoned any pretence of rational thought. The kiss deepened quickly, Lois taking the initiative this time and probing his mouth with her tongue. Her hand wandered down his arm to find his and tug it away from its grip on her shirt, guiding it beneath the material once again. His fingers explored her body, stroking and caressing her softness, learning from her responses how best to please her. Soon she was breathing heavily, and her hands were wandering over his skin to find and exploit his sensitive spots. Through the waves of desire rolling over him, Clark was conscious of astonishment at the speed with which things were moving. He had hoped that after he had told Lois how he felt, she might agree to go on a date with him. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that within a matter of hours they would be in bed together and, it seemed, on the verge of becoming lovers. Not that he minded - there was nothing in the world that he'd rather do than make love with Lois, short of marrying her - but what had happened to all her reservations about sleeping with a colleague? He lifted his mouth from hers with an effort. "Lois, are you sure this is what you want?" he managed to gasp. She stilled for a moment, apparently considering the question, and then propped herself up on one elbow, rolling her body away from his. He couldn't suppress a rumbling groan of protest. He saw her teeth gleam in the faint light as she smiled. "Quite sure," she said huskily, and shucked off her shirt, tossing it onto the floor behind her. She placed a palm against his shoulder and pushed him flat on the bed, then bent over him. Her hair swung out and fanned across his chest as her mouth began to explore his skin. He was dimly aware of her pyjama bottoms following her shirt, then her hands joined her mouth, roaming across his torso, teasing every inch of him into thrilling awareness. Clark gave up the unequal struggle to cling onto rational thought. Lois was filling his senses with her her magical presence, and within seconds he was lost in a spell that he couldn't have broken if his life depended on it. The room and the world outside it melted away, and all that was left was two bodies, moving together in the darkness. ********** Lois floated reluctantly back to earth from the dim mists of pleasure. Every muscle in her body was aching pleasantly, and she felt as though she had run a marathon - only no marathon could have produced this languid euphoria, she reflected with a blissful smile. Her Super lover was lying at her side, one arm tucked around her shoulders; her head was nestled against his shoulder, one arm flung across his chest, one leg still twined with his. Her inclination to lie like this for the rest of her life, simply enjoying his presence, warred with and finally lost to the impulse to spend more time exploring his magnificent body. After all, there was no telling when she would have another opportunity. She ran her hand slowly across the broad expanse of his chest, savouring the smoothness of his skin against her palm and the definition of the steel-hard muscles beneath. He sighed softly and she felt his arm tighten about her, his cheek resting briefly against her hair. Then his free hand captured her roving one, carrying it to his lips. His voice rumbled through the ribcage beneath her ear. "Lois... my beautiful, wonderful, incredible Lois," he murmured. She chuckled lazily. "Incredible? You're the incredible one!" She turned her palm flat against his larger one, and their fingers locked together. She heard a pleased laugh and then felt him drop a kiss on the top of her head. Blissfully content as she was, though, there was something missing. "Will you tell me..." she began shyly, "... what's your real name?" Instantly she regretted the words, as his whole body tensed. "What do you mean?" he asked, a note of what sounded almost like panic in his voice. She shrugged. "I don't feel I should call you Superman," she said. "That's just the name I -" There was a rapid flurry of movement beside her, then she was lying with her head on the pillow and he was gone. "- made up..." She trailed off in astonishment. "What are you doing?" There was no answer except for a gust of wind whipping around the room. She sat up and fumbled for the light switch beside her bed. The light came on to reveal Superman already fully dressed, even his hair neatly plastered back into place. She gazed at him open-mouthed, at a complete loss for words. "This was a terrible mistake," he ground out in a low voice. His face was ashen, and he cast a single appalled glance at her, wincing as he took in her nudity and averting his gaze again. "I should never have let it happen. I'm sorry, Lois." "Wait!" she cried. "I..." But he had vanished in a red- and-blue blur, only the faint click of the living-room window behind him marking his exit. Lois sank back and mechanically pulled the quilt over herself, still gazing at the empty doorway in horror. After a while she closed her eyes and the tears welled up to soak unheeded into the pillow. ********** ~* Chapter Five: A Fractured Friendship *~ Superman had run out on her. She couldn't believe it. Without a word of explanation - just "I'm sorry, Lois," and then he had vanished. Gone. Disappeared. What was it about her that attracted that sort of man? Every man in her life turned out just the same. Daddy couldn't stick around long enough to bring up his daughters. Clark couldn't stick around long enough to finish a conversation. Claude... well, the less said about Claude, the better. At least Superman hadn't stolen her story... No, that was ridiculous. Superman was nothing like Claude. She shouldn't even be thinking of them in the same breath. It was her. It was all her fault. Maybe all of them were her fault, even Claude. She must inspire men, even the best of men, to behave like rats. She had sworn to herself that nothing untoward would happen, when she'd got into bed beside Superman. She'd assured herself that she would never take advantage of him, that she could control her base urges. And it had all been a lie. Within minutes she had been cuddling him and kissing him, and then when he wanted to stop she'd practically forced herself on him. She was a cheap slut, and he was right to despise her. She would probably never see him again, and it was all her fault. She would be alone like this all her life. She deserved no better. Exhausted and bewildered, Lois switched off the light and lay staring into the darkness. It wasn't long before she fell into a fitful sleep, but time and again she woke from confused dreams of abandonment, reaching out in vain across the empty bed beside her. The third time it happened, she sat bolt upright. She had to get a grip on herself. She was wallowing. Lois Lane did not wallow. She detested wallowing in all its forms. She refused to wallow for a moment longer. What had happened to destroy Superman's happiness, and her own? What had she done to provoke his reaction - and what could she do to make amends? She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on top. Then she closed her eyes and thought back to the moment she had got into bed beside Superman. She had lain down beside him, with her back to him as promised, and concentrated on going to sleep. She had been on the very verge of sleep when he had suddenly moved, rolling over and putting a hand on her shoulder. He had drawn her towards him and into a warm, tender embrace. The memory still made her insides melt. She had lain rigid in his arms for a long moment, holding her breath while she waited for his next move, before she had realised that he was still fast asleep. So although in a sense he had made the first move, it really didn't count. She had relaxed, simply enjoying his touch, still resisting the urge to touch him in return. And then, in a heartbeat, everything had changed. His breathing had altered, she had lifted her face to see if he was awake, wondering if she should withdraw to her own side of the bed... and he had kissed her. Kissed her thoroughly and expertly and masterfully, obliterating any thought of retreat. Aside from the fire he was stoking inside her, the only thought in her mind had been the slightly awed question of how far he intended to go. And while she had timidly stroked his chest and shoulder, his hand had gone roving purposefully, heading straight inside her pyjamas, leaving her in little doubt as to the answer. Yet that had also been an illusion, because he'd thought he was dreaming. Dreaming of her, or someone else? Someone he'd left back on Krypton? There was no telling; but while he'd been adorably embarrassed when he realised she was real, and had quickly apologised for the liberties he'd taken, he hadn't seemed surprised or disgusted that it was her. He'd been understandably confused about how he'd ended up in her bed, but he'd called her by name. It hadn't been a case of mistaken identity, at least not from then on. And although she had taken the initiative at that point, he hadn't displayed the slightest reluctance to continue. Quite the reverse, in fact... Initially, a certain hesitancy had betrayed his inexperience, and he'd admitted that it was his first time, but boy, was he a fast learner - and he seemed to know exactly what he was setting out to do. The mere memory of the response he'd coaxed from her set her heart pounding and her limbs trembling. She'd simply had no idea such an experience was possible. "Fireworks" didn't even begin to describe it. It probably helped to have super-senses with which to gauge your partner's response... But physical abilities alone didn't account for what had happened between them. More than anything, it had been his unmistakable depth of caring that Lois had responded to. He hadn't spoken a word of love, but it had been implicit in every touch, every caress. And the same was true of his tenderness afterwards. She understood now why it was called the afterglow... "My Lois," he had called her. "My beautiful, wonderful, incredible Lois." The memory brought tears to her eyes. His contentment, his delight, had been unmistakable - up to the very moment when she'd asked his name. And then, in the twinkling of an eye, it had turned to blind panic. It just didn't make any sense; it had to be some dreadful misunderstanding. She loved him, although she hadn't had a chance to tell him so; and she knew that he loved her. Perhaps, when he thought back on what had happened, he would realise that it hadn't been a terrible mistake after all - it had been natural and right. Surely he would see that. And in the meantime, she was going to dwell on the wonderful memory of being with him, not on its tragic aftermath. Lois lay down again, thinking drowsily of how awesome it had felt to be cradled in Superman's arms. A blissful smile crept across her face. This time, she slept deeply until morning. ********** She woke to the sound of raindrops scattering across her bedroom window: Mr Pickering's rain had arrived on schedule. An image of the little man's apoplectic face popped into her mind, immediately followed by one of Superman struggling unsuccessfully not to laugh. She was suddenly seized by a desperate longing to touch him, to reassure herself that last night had been real. Could it really have happened? Was it possible? The memory seemed almost dreamlike... She sat up, wincing as her body complained. Every muscle she possessed, including several she hadn't thought about for years, was protesting. It certainly hadn't been a dream... But what had possessed her? She couldn't remember a single occasion when she'd ever been so overcome by desire, so blind to any other consideration... except that time she'd been drunk on that pheromone perfume, and that hardly counted. She just wasn't the type to approach sex so casually, and she couldn't believe Superman was, either. She thrust the hurtful thought sharply away from her, before it could upset her equilibrium. It hadn't been casual sex, that was the whole point. It had been lovemaking between two people who cared deeply about each other. She had no doubt about that, and Superman must know it in his heart of hearts. He would realise it soon enough, and come back to tell her so. Maybe he would come over this evening... maybe he would even stay... A dreamy smile spread over Lois's face as she got out of bed and started to get ready for work. It was still there when she padded out of the bathroom in her robe and opened the closet to choose an outfit. She had a strong suspicion that Perry would have her out on the streets again today, so pants and flat shoes would be sensible... but she didn't feel like being sensible today. She felt far too feminine. Her gaze swept her work outfits, and her brow creased. Most of them looked like... armour. "I am a professional!" they proclaimed. "Don't mess with me!" But today she wanted to look like a woman. Her eyes strayed briefly towards the white lace dress she had worn on that remarkable morning at the Planet... she thrust the memory hastily out of sight. Reluctantly, she selected a short, pleated tweed skirt that she could wear with low heels and returned to her morning routine, reaching for her memories of last night to recover her sunny mood. For the second day in a row she arrived at the Planet later than usual. She made her way out of the lift and through the morning bustle to her desk. Several of her colleagues greeted her as she passed, and she found herself smiling at them in an unusually cheery way. Lois Lane was not known for being a morning person, she knew, but this particular morning she was too pleased with life to care if she raised a few eyebrows. She switched on her computer and started checking her email. Shortly afterwards, Jimmy walked past her desk with a tall stack of papers in his arms and called out a greeting. She waved a hand and smiled in response, then found her eyes following him as he proceeded in the direction of his desk. Jimmy was growing up and filling out, she thought, and becoming quite an attractive young man in the process. He had a fair pair of shoulders and quite a cute butt. Nothing to compare with Superman's, of course. She smiled. One of the first things you noticed about Superman was those broad, straight shoulders... and the way his massive biceps flexed when he folded his arms. You didn't usually get much of a chance to see his butt, because of the cape, but she'd had a great view of it last night, clad only in his briefs. She was looking forward to getting to know all of that body better... She suddenly realised that she was gazing mistily across the newsroom, and that Cat was looking back at her with alert interest. Lois nodded as calmly as she could manage and turned her attention back to her screen, hoping Cat was too far away to notice the hot blush that was sweeping over her face. A few minutes later, she picked up her coffee mug and went to get the first cup of the day. There might even be a decent doughnut; she rather thought she might have worked off a few extra calories last night. To her annoyance, Cat followed her over to the coffee machine. Lois ignored her completely, but she sashayed up close, disposed herself artistically against the back of a chair and said in low, conspiratorial tones, "So, I see you took my advice." Lois raised an eyebrow. "What advice would that be?" she scoffed. "I appear to be dressed decently," she added waspishly, glancing down at her outfit. Cat didn't bat an eyelid. "*Someone* gave you a really good time last night," she said, eyeing Lois with avid curiosity. "So who was it? Anyone we know?" Lois achieved a creditable, if slightly high-pitched laugh. "I think you're imagining things, Cat," she retorted. "What happened, did they run out of cocktails early last night, and now you have the d.t.'s?" She turned to the box of doughnuts and carefully picked out one with chocolate icing. Cat merely grinned at her infuriatingly. "Oh, believe me, Lois, I know the signs." She counted off the points on her fingers. "Staring dreamily into space... checking out other men... walking stiffly... oh, and you have a hickey on your neck." Lois stiffened and drew in a sharp breath before she remembered - she'd checked carefully in the mirror this morning that she had no such thing. "Gotcha!" Cat crowed triumphantly, as Lois coloured. "Come on, Lois, admit it. Who was it? It wasn't Clark, was it? That'll sure liven up the newsroom..." "No, it was *not* Clark!" Lois snapped, regretting the tacit admission the instant it had left her lips. She turned on her heel and stalked back to her desk, followed by Cat's low chuckle. She needed to be more careful, Lois thought sourly. With any luck, Cat would think it had been Lex... Oh, God, she was dating Lex and she'd slept with Superman! She usually had more scruples than that... Well, she'd just have to break it off with Lex next time she spoke to him, that was all. And what conclusion would Cat draw then? Oh, it was too complicated to consider now! She'd have to think about it carefully when she had more time - not right before Perry's morning meeting. Cat had done her a favour in one respect, though, Lois conceded as she carried her mug and notebook to the conference room. She hadn't given Clark a second thought since last night, but he still owed her an apology and an explanation. She was no longer angry with him - it just didn't seem that important, after last night's momentous events - but she needed to decide what approach to take with him, when he showed his face again. If he showed his face again... ********** Clark hailed a taxi outside the Hall of Records. "Daily Planet," he said morosely, and folded himself into the back seat. Thanks to half an hour of covert super-speed reading, he had the information that he ought to have been able to get yesterday, if he'd been on the job instead of at one rescue after another. With luck, it would satisfy Perry; Clark should just make it to the morning meeting. Lois was another matter. Clark stared blindly out of the window. He felt as if he were on the way to his own funeral. His stomach was in a tight knot, and he was sweating in spite of the wintry rain. He had behaved like a complete and utter heel. The instant Lois had asked his name, the warning sirens had gone off in his mind. She could only mean his Kryptonian name, and he hadn't been planning to tell her about being Superman just yet. The dark gap in his memory had suddenly assumed a new and menacing significance; and as the fatal word "Superman" had left Lois's lips, as though the lights had suddenly been switched on, the events of the missing twenty-four hours had suddenly sprung into harsh, pitiless relief. Clark couldn't remember telling Lois how he felt about her, couldn't remember her response, because it had never happened. Instead, the very disaster he had been striving for months to avert had come to pass: Lois had fallen like a ton of bricks for Superman. It was Superman she'd taken to bed. Panic-stricken, Clark's only thought had been to extricate himself from the situation before it became any worse. He had stammered out the first words that came to mind and then left at super-speed. Seconds later, safely concealed in the centre of an Arctic snowstorm, he had howled out his agony and frustration. All his hopes for the future had been wiped out, extinguished in one careless act of self-betrayal. There was no longer any hope that Lois would fall in love with him... with plain Clark Kent. His dreams of one day being a normal person, with a wife and maybe even a family, were destined to remain just that... dreams. For ever. Only hours later, as the storm finally blew itself out, had it even occurred to him to wonder how Lois would have reacted to his hasty departure. The thought still made him physically ill. He knew that his partner's assertive confidence was only skin-deep, that underneath it she hid a deep insecurity about her attractiveness to men. He knew about the men in her past, Claude and her father, who had created that insecurity by their betrayals, and he had often wished he could get his hands on them and choke some sense of decency into them. Now he had done exactly the same thing. Superman, Lois's idol - the only man she really trusted - had betrayed her. She would be devastated. After long and careful deliberation, Clark had come to the conclusion that there was only one honourable thing he could do. She deserved to know that the man who had slept with her and then abandoned her so callously did in fact love her; she also had to know that, under the flashy costume, he was only her partner. Summoning up all his courage, Clark had returned to Lois's apartment, fully determined to confess everything, only to find that she was fast asleep. He couldn't bring himself to wake her; instead, he'd gone back home and fallen into an exhausted sleep himself, until his alarm had woken him. He didn't know whether Lois would even make it in to work this morning, but he'd thought it best to put in an appearance there before he talked to her. It wouldn't help the situation if Perry fired him on top of everything else. Secretly, he knew that it was just a cowardly excuse to delay the inevitable. But as soon as the morning meeting was over, he would get Lois alone and make his confession. And what would happen then, he didn't know. Probably either Lois would never speak to him again, or she would decide that being Superman made up for his other defects, and that she loved him after all. He wasn't sure which he dreaded more. "You all right, buddy?" the cab driver asked, looking round, and Clark realised he had groaned aloud. "Fine," he said dully. He suddenly became aware that the cab had scarcely moved in the last couple of minutes - Metropolis's cross-town traffic was snarled up again. He looked out at the rain sheeting down outside, and decided it wasn't going to do him any good to walk to work in that. He was going to be late for the meeting after all. Sure enough, when he emerged from the stairwell the newsroom was deserted and the conference room crammed to the gills. Clark slipped quietly through the door and glanced around the room. Much to his relief, Lois was there, sitting near Perry with her back to him. There was an empty chair next to her; the other reporters tended to leave space for the partners to sit together even on normal days, and Clark imagined that today they were probably giving Mad Dog Lane a wide berth. He decided not to draw any extra attention to himself by crossing the room, though. Besides, he would be happier if he didn't have to get too close to her until the meeting was over. As Clark listened to Perry going on about the sales figures, he got the eerie feeling that he was being watched. He glanced casually around the room again. Cat had her eyes fixed on him; as he looked in her direction, her gaze slid to Lois and then back. She looked like a veritable cat at a mouse-hole, and Clark's heart sank. The last thing he needed to add to his misery was a spectator with a predilection for gossip. He looked back towards Perry, and saw that something had attracted Lois's attention. She was craning round to look at the door, and when she caught his eye she jerked her head at the chair next to her. He frowned, but it was too late. Sensing that he had lost some of his audience, Perry had paused to find the culprit. "Ah, Kent," he said with ominous bonhomie. "I'm so glad you managed to join us at last. Why don't you sit down, and we can continue." Clark winced and did as he was bidden. Perry waited with awful patience till he was seated, then resumed his harangue. Lois opened her notebook and extracted a pencil from behind her ear. A wave of her unique scent washed over Clark, and he clenched his fists to control his physical response. His vision blurred... ~* Her scent filled his nostrils as his mouth traced the soft line under her jaw. She quivered and arched against him... *~ Clark blinked. Lois had pushed her notebook in front of him. The note scrawled on the top leaf said, "Vault story on back burner. Perry on warpath. Follow my lead." He nodded slightly and pushed the notebook back towards her. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Cat was still watching them closely, but now there was a faint pucker between her brows. Perry wound up his speech and rounded on Clark. "Kent, I haven't seen anything from you on my desk in the last day. What are you working on?" Lois cut in smoothly. "We got a tip-off that the hotel fire might have been arson. Clark has been following that up while I covered the freeway pile-up. We're hoping to get the report from the Fire Investigation Department this morning." Perry gave Clark a hard look, but he didn't pursue the point, moving on to question Myerson instead. Clark relaxed a trifle, and his thoughts turned at once to Lois's voice. It had sounded confident and cheerful - not at all what he had feared to hear this morning. He cast a quick glance at her face. She was looking down at her notebook, and seemed perfectly composed; not a hint of the humiliation and heartbreak he knew she must be feeling was visible. Clark was filled with an awed admiration for her indomitable courage, and a renewed guilt for the misery he was putting her through. He glanced away again, conscious once more of Cat's steady gaze. He shot a look across the table at her, and raised his eyebrows in a faint query. Then he ran his thumb across his chin and glanced down at his tie, as if searching for the cause of her interest. She awarded him an amused grin and finally turned her attention to Perry. The meeting ended shortly, and Lois got briskly to her feet and joined the queue for the door. Clark followed close behind her, carefully averting his eyes from the swing of her skirt. After last night, he found himself almost painfully aware of every curve, every movement of Lois's body. He thrust his hands into his pockets and concentrated on maintaining a few inches' distance between them until they finally escaped the press of people around the door. Lois made straight for her desk and put down her notebook and coffee mug, then turned and looked Clark full in the face for the first time. He searched her eyes for the agony and betrayal he knew he would see there, but he didn't find it. There were faint smudges beneath her eyes, cleverly concealed with a little more makeup than usual, but her expression was calm, even buoyant. He blinked. Was she such a good actress that she could hide her pain even from him? She frowned at him impatiently. "Did you hear me? I said we need to get moving on the arson story." He cleared his throat. "Lois, I think we need to talk..." Her face hardened slightly. "Clark, if this is about where you went the other night, I don't want to hear another flimsy excuse." There was a flash of hurt in her eyes now, but it was nothing like what he had been expecting. "I think we should keep our relationship on a purely professional footing, don't you?" He gazed at her, dumbfounded. After a moment she flashed him a brittle smile and said, "Excuse me a minute. Why don't you try to get hold of the Fire Investigation Department, a guy called Ernest Pickering, and set up an interview? He'd probably turn me down, he's scared of me." Then she turned, picked up her bag and strode away in the direction of the ladies' room. Clark moved numbly to his desk and sat down like an automaton. It wasn't an act; she simply wasn't the least bit affected by what had happened last night. His world, all his cherished hopes for their future together, had come crashing down around him... and she hadn't turned a hair. Either her infatuation for Superman was so strong that she was willing to forgive his abominable behaviour in return for the privilege of sleeping with him that single time, or else their encounter simply hadn't meant the same to her as it had to him. For him, it had been the most glorious experience of his life... maybe for her, it had been nothing special. Clark wanted to howl, to double over with agony. Instead, he opened the phone book and leafed through it for the Metropolis Civic Department listings. Either way, it no longer seemed like a good idea to tell her he was Superman. She could keep her radiant illusions about her idol; he could salvage a scrap of his trampled self-respect, and at least keep working with her. On a purely professional footing. There was only one thing to be thankful for in this whole sorry mess. By some stroke of fate, some merciful providence, he hadn't told her that he loved her. He picked up the phone and dialled the Fire Investigation Department. ********** ~* Chapter Six: Cat and Mouse *~ Lois looked her reflection over in the bathroom mirror. She looked fine... well, she looked a bit grim, but that was understandable. She certainly wasn't going to cry, nor was she going to give in to the impulse to go and tell Clark she hadn't meant what she'd said. That would only get them bogged down in a pointless discussion of their relationship. Lois slowly opened her bag and started making completely unnecessary running repairs to her makeup. Okay, she'd upset him with that comment, and she didn't really even know why she'd said it... except that Cat had been working on her nerves all the way through the meeting. The awareness she'd had of Clark sitting next to her, his every movement, the way he'd followed so close behind her afterwards, without touching her... that was just because she hadn't been able to ignore the way Cat had been watching them, or the reason for Cat's unusual interest. But Lois had been rattled by it, and then when Clark had said they needed to talk... well, she had to acknowledge that she was a lot more upset with him than she'd realised, and so she'd lashed out with that hurtful comment. And it *had* hurt him, really badly. He'd gone quite white, and just stood there without a word, his wounded eyes searching her face, like a spaniel that had been kicked and didn't know how to apologise. The lipstick she was applying went slightly awry, and Lois wiped the smudge off carefully and then made a conscious effort to relax her tense fingers before trying again. Clark's reaction just confirmed the suspicion she'd had, that what he'd wanted to talk about the other night was their relationship. That he wanted to tell her he felt more for her than friendship. And back then she would have listened, and told him how she felt about him, and maybe they would even have gone on a date. But that was before Superman had... before Superman. After last night, her friendship with Clark wasn't going to lead to anything deeper. And if, when she'd seen how upset he was, she'd wanted to put her arms around him and comfort him, assure him that she hadn't meant it... well, that was just because they were friends. It didn't mean anything more. Of course she cared about him - and of course she didn't want to lose his friendship. Only, it would probably be best if they kept a bit of a distance while she sorted things out with Superman. And if Clark had some time to get used to the fact that they weren't going to be anything more than friends. She certainly wasn't in love with Clark. She had to admit that he was very attractive, and more than once it had crossed her mind to wonder what it would be like if he kissed her - really kissed her, because he wanted to, not just as a cover in an investigation. But the breathless excitement she felt when she was with Superman, the thrill of anticipation when he took her in his arms and floated into the air... that was what being in love was really like. But Clark was her best friend, and she could only hope their friendship would survive this. Superman was his friend, too... Lois realised she was biting her lip. She grimaced at her reflection and then set about removing the lipstick from her teeth and reapplying it to her mouth once again. Clark was probably going to be very upset when he realised that she was in love with Superman, not with him. She hoped it wouldn't wreck the friendship between the two men... The bathroom opened, and a couple of juniors from Advertising walked in. Lois shut her bag with a snap and left the room, preparing herself to face Clark again. She could do with another cup of coffee to fortify herself first, she decided, veering in the direction of the refreshment area. On the way down the side passage, though, she heard voices and slowed down to check who it was. "Hey, Clark," said a voice she vaguely recognised. Lois stopped, just around the corner. "Morning, Tom," her partner replied as he approached the coffee machine. Of course - that must be Tom Wilson, from the Sports desk. Clark's voice sounded much less cheerful than usual, she thought, trying to work up the courage to walk the last few paces down the corridor and out into the refreshment area. The two men exchanged a few pleasantries, then Lois heard Tom walk away. She was about to leave her refuge and join Clark when an even less welcome voice intruded on her thoughts. "Morning, handsome," came Cat's sultry tones. Lois could almost see her running a familiar hand down Clark's tie; she bristled and retreated a step, hoping no one would come along and find her eavesdropping on the conversation. "Morning, Cat," Clark replied with his usual cool courtesy. It was probably only Lois's imagination that coloured his voice with a faint apprehension. Lois heard Cat's heels click closer on the hard floor, then she spoke again in a low voice. "Looks like Lois had a really good time last night," she said. "So who's she sleeping with?" There was a brief, pregnant pause, while Lois wished fervently that someone had had the foresight to strangle Cat at birth. "I have no idea what you're talking about," Clark returned in an unnaturally even voice. "Oh, don't pretend you don't know all about it!" Cat scoffed. "It's not you and her, like I thought at first it might be, but you're obviously green with jealousy. Tell me -" Clark interrupted her sharply. "I don't think it's any of my business who my partner is seeing outside work hours," he said, laying faint stress on the word "partner", "and I'm quite sure it's none of yours." There was another pause, then Cat chuckled throatily. "Okay, play it like that if you want to," she said. "I'll find out sooner or later. I tell you what, though..." Her voice dropped to a more intimate tone. "Since Lois won't be dragging you around on a leash any more, how about you and I have that dinner we never got round to, hmm?" Lois barely recognised Clark's voice when he replied; she had never heard him speak so coldly. "Thanks for the generous offer, Cat, but I'm not interested. And I'll thank you to keep your claws out of my partner." In the breathless hush that followed, Lois could hear Clark's measured footsteps receding as he walked away. A moment later, the staccato tap of high heels followed, but they got louder rather than softer. Before Lois could move, Cat rounded the corner of the corridor and saw her standing there, all too obviously a witness to at least the end of the conversation. For what seemed like an eternity, they stood staring silently at each other. Cat's face, at first pale with anger, flushed a brilliant red, but her embarrassment didn't prevent her from looking daggers at Lois. Then she tossed her head and, still without speaking, brushed past Lois and stalked off down the corridor, no doubt heading for the sanctuary of the ladies' room like Lois before her. Lois sagged against the wall and rested her forehead against its cool surface. What had possessed her to stand here eavesdropping? If she had simply walked out to the coffee machine in the first place, that whole ugly conversation would never have happened. As it was, Cat was probably never going to forgive her for witnessing her humiliation. And Clark... could Cat be right? Did Clark know what had happened last night? Surely Superman couldn't have told him? She couldn't imagine him boasting to Clark about it, but on the other hand he'd seemed so upset when he'd left... could he have gone to Clark to ask his advice as a friend? Lois closed her eyes and suppressed an anguished moan. Surely he wouldn't have done that to her... or to Clark? And what would Clark make of it? Had that been what he meant this morning, about needing to talk? Had he wanted to give her a message from Superman? No. That definitely couldn't be it. No, she was simply letting her imagination run riot. If that had been what Clark wanted to talk about, he wouldn't have reacted like that to her answer. He'd have insisted on giving her the message. But he hadn't seemed surprised by what Cat had said... Lois shook her head in a vain attempt to clear it. She couldn't let herself be fooled into thinking like Cat. Coming on top of what she herself had said to him, Clark would have found Cat's casual cruelty hard to bear. That was all. If he believed what Cat had said, he would probably also think she'd been with Lex last night. Lois winced; the next few days would be hard enough without Clark radiating his bitter disapproval of her relationship with Lex. And what of Cat's other comment, about Lois dragging Clark around on a leash? That really hurt. She didn't do that, did she? She and Clark were partners and friends - of course they were together a lot. She didn't go out of her way to prevent him seeing other friends... other women. It must just be Cat's jealousy talking - by the sound of it, for all Cat's boastful tales, she'd never actually managed to seduce Clark after all. Inexplicably cheered by the thought, Lois finally succeeded in composing herself and strolled round the corner to the coffee machine. She had spent far too long agonising over her woes already; she had work to do. ********** When she returned to her desk with her coffee, Lois was relieved to find that although Clark was subdued to the point of brusqueness, and seemed to be avoiding meeting her eyes, he was continuing to work normally on their investigation. He had set up a meeting for them at the Fire Investigation Department and started a couple of lines of research into the ownership and management of the Nights Inn Motel. They were both professionals where it counted, Lois reflected ruefully, remembering how she'd once categorised him as an unprofessional hack from the sticks. Half an hour later, the rain was still lashing at the high newsroom windows - the same windows through which Superman had flown with her after their first meeting, Lois thought with sudden longing. Dragging her attention back to her work, she offered to drive them to the Fire Investigation Department offices rather than rely on getting a taxi in the downpour. The lift was slow to arrive and, standing waiting for it, Lois was very conscious of the silent, brooding presence of her partner at her side, of the small but measurable distance between them. Normally they would have been chatting easily or joking together, and Clark would have put a casual hand on her back to pilot her into the lift. Lois would have resented it from almost anyone else, but coming from Clark it was companionable and comfortable. It wouldn't happen today, she was sure, and she felt a pang of loss at the thought. The prickle along Lois's spine told her that Cat was watching them again. "Let's take the stairs," she said abruptly, and there was a hint of relief in Clark's voice as he agreed. He followed her down the stairs instead of walking at her side as he usually did, but at least while they were moving, Lois mused, the tension wasn't building up between them. She suddenly wondered whether offering to drive Clark had been such a good idea; yet sitting together in the back of a taxi would be no better. This period of awkwardness was simply something they would both have to endure. Halfway down the last sweep of stairs to the lobby, however, Lois's thoughts were unexpectedly wrested away from her partner as she registered who was coming in through the revolving doors from the street. She froze between one stair and the next, muttering a low curse under her breath. What was Linda King doing inside the Daily Planet? "Is something wrong?" Clark asked behind her. It was just as well his reflexes were quicker than Jimmy's, Lois thought gratefully; tumbling down half a dozen stairs to land in an undignified and no doubt painful heap at Linda's feet would have set the seal on what was already promising to be one of the most difficult and distressing days she could remember. "Yes," she said, half turning. But it was ridiculous to allow Linda King to upset her. "Well, no, not really," she hedged. "Just someone I... used to know." She turned back and descended the last few steps to the lobby, fetching up face to face with Linda. "Linda," she said coolly. "What's a Metropolis Star reporter doing visiting the competition?" Great - the perfect opportunity for Linda to state that the Planet was no competition at all, Lois thought with an inward wince; but Linda failed to make use of it. "I thought we could get reacquainted," she said in a slightly breathless voice. As Lois looked at her curiously, she realised that Linda's eyes had barely focused on her for a moment before sliding avidly over her shoulder. Linda's priorities hadn't changed in the last six years, Lois thought sourly, as Linda continued with a honeyed smile, "Aren't you going to introduce us?" "Of course," Lois said, turning to include Clark. "Clark, this is Linda King, an old acquaintance of mine from college..." "We were best friends, Lois!" Linda interjected, looking hurt. "True," Lois conceded unemotionally, repressing the furious urge to turn and lash out at Linda for the cheap trick that had ended their friendship. "And Linda, this is my partner, Clark Kent." "A pleasure," Clark said, extending a friendly hand which Linda immediately grasped between both of hers. "I'm delighted to meet you," she gushed. "I've read a lot of your work, and I'm a big admirer. Lois must count herself lucky to be partnered with you!" "It's quite the opposite," Clark replied smoothly as Lois restrained herself with difficulty from rolling her eyes and groaning. "Lois has taught me most of what I know about big city journalism." Score one against Linda, Lois thought gratefully. She listened impatiently as Linda continued to fawn over Clark, excluding Lois from the conversation and subtly putting her down at every opportunity. After a minute she checked her watch; they had to get going or they risked being late for their meeting, but Clark showed no sign of wanting to end the encounter. She could scarcely blame him for enjoying Linda's blatant admiration after the morning's events, but it was inconvenient all the same, and seeing him smiling down into Linda's upturned face - Linda, of all the wretched traitors in the world - was quite literally making her feel sick. A day ago she would have had no compunction about grabbing Clark's arm and towing him away with her. The way she had done last night with Superman... She shook her head slightly to banish the memory. Today, she didn't think she could touch Clark like that. She drew a deep breath and interrupted Linda's effusion. "Clark, we have to get to that meeting," she said. He glanced quickly at her, and she thought she saw disappointment in his eyes. ~*... dragging you around on a leash... *~ "Why don't I fetch the car and bring it round to the front," she said jerkily, gesturing at the revolving doors. "Linda, doubtless we'll be seeing you around." She turned and headed for the stairs to the basement parking, silently cursing her unruly conscience. It was one thing letting Clark see other women; it was quite another leaving him in the clutches of a faithless man- eater like Linda. But by the time she brought the Cherokee to a halt outside the Planet's front door, Linda seemed to have vanished. Clark bolted out of the door through the driving rain and lost no time getting into the passenger seat. His glasses must have been wet, but as she pulled out into the traffic, Lois noticed absently that he didn't take them off to wipe them dry, as most people would have done. "What did Linda want?" she asked after a moment. "The Star's new publisher, Preston Carpenter, is throwing a dinner at the Press Club tonight," Clark replied. "She asked me... us... to go along." "Us?" Lois said thoughtfully. "I would have thought she'd want you all to herself." Clark hesitated, then said reluctantly, "She's going with someone else." So Linda had wanted to invite him as her partner - otherwise it wouldn't have been mentioned. Lois felt torn. On the one hand, she wanted to stay in tonight, in case Superman came by... and she didn't relish the idea of standing by at the party while Linda threw herself at Clark. On the other hand, Clark might not go if she didn't, and her wretched conscience was still pricking her uncomfortably. And Superman would probably only come round later, after his evening patrol. Besides... did she really want Linda to think she'd succeeded in intimidating her? Beside her, Clark said in a voice totally devoid of emotion, "Of course, it wouldn't be a date - just business." Lois's heart contracted painfully. "Yes, I know," she said quickly. "I guess we should find out what we can about this Carpenter guy and what he's done to make the Star so successful. I'll meet you there - is seven o'clock okay?" "Fine," Clark said. There was a pause while Lois concentrated fiercely on watching the traffic and not giving in to the tears prickling at her eyes, then Clark added, "You don't seem to like Linda much." He was still being the perfect friend, Lois thought despairingly. She could take up the offer to talk about it, or she could ignore the statement or return a simple answer, in which case Clark would probe no further. What had she done to deserve him? The traffic, which had been moving at a crawl, finally came to a halt. Lois shifted the Cherokee into park and took a deep breath. Then she proceeded to tell Clark about how Linda, her college roommate and best friend, had stolen her story and her would-be boyfriend. Not all of it, of course. Clark didn't need to know that Paul had been her first lover, or how she had felt when she realised she'd just been another in his long line of one-night stands. Nor did she really want to tell him how Linda had laughed and gloated when Lois had confronted her. The memory, buried too long in the "untouchable" section of Lois's past, was still too raw and painful. Clark listened in comfortable silence. "But she seems to want to bury old quarrels now," he commented when the sordid tale was finished. Lois smiled mirthlessly. "I guess I have a hard time believing that," she said. Look at the way she's gunning for my partner! she added silently. The traffic started to move again, and the conversation lapsed. The government building they were heading for was fortunately only a few blocks further, but it was stop- start driving all the way. Clark's attention seemed to be riveted on the urban scenery outside the car, but within a few minutes the atmosphere had somehow turned from comfortable to tense without a word's being said. It took a while for Lois to identify the flutter of movement in the corner of her eye. Then she realised that although Clark was carefully looking away from her, every time her foot moved on the accelerator or brake, his fingers, resting ever so casually on his knee, would twitch. Damn Cat and her insinuations, Lois thought wrathfully - her idle gossip-mongering had completely upset the balance of their relationship. Lois's own physical awareness of Clark, dormant while they had been talking, quickly mounted until her heart was beating rapidly in her throat and skipping every time he moved. At last the offices of the Fire Investigation Department crawled into sight and - miracle of miracles - a car was pulling out of a parking place a few yards away. Lois beat at least four other vehicles in the race to fill it, then fumbled for her door handle with a trembling hand. She didn't think she'd ever in her life been so thankful to reach her destination; she'd certainly never been so eager not to be alone with Clark. ********** ~* Chapter Seven: Carpenter and the Lady *~ Clark tugged at the collar of his dress shirt with a nervous forefinger for the hundredth time. Why, oh why, hadn't he simply told Linda that he had plans for this evening? If he'd had the sense, he'd have been on his Friday night patrol now, not standing here waiting for... dreading... Lois's arrival. The trip in the car with her this morning had been sheer torture. He thought he had covered his reaction pretty well, but he had been aware of every movement she made, every breath she took. The way her long, shapely, nylon- clad legs had shifted as she drove - the same legs that had been intertwined with his last night - had almost been his undoing. It had been all he could do to prevent himself seizing her, flying away with her to some remote spot and making love to her for the rest of the year... Clark abruptly became conscious that more than just his collar was starting to feel tight, and he took a deep breath and set about controlling his physical response once again. He was deeply thankful for his Kryptonian ability to do that - what did human men do in a similar situation? Embarrass themselves, he could only suppose. But, super-abilities or no, he simply couldn't afford to keep thinking about and reliving last night. It was over; he had thrown away his chances of winning Lois's love, and now he had to learn to live with the result. Which meant forgetting that their lovemaking had ever happened, and concentrating on keeping their partnership alive. Maybe some day he'd be able to relive those memories without driving himself crazy - he hoped so, because that one night was going to have to last him for a long time... possibly a lifetime. But for now, he had to limit himself to thinking about work. Work. Their meeting with an underling at the Fire Investigation Department had been short and sweet, and had told them little they didn't already know. A radio-controlled incendiary device attached to the gas main in the kitchen had started the fire. The investigation had therefore been turned over to the Metropolis Police Forensics Department. To Clark's relief, by the time the meeting was over the rain had stopped. He had mumbled some excuse about going to talk to a source about the hotel management, and set off alone on foot. He thought Lois had been equally relieved that he wouldn't be driving back with her; she certainly hadn't protested, or even shown any surprise. He had spent a couple of hours finding his street contacts and asking about the hotel, but nothing had come of it yet. As word got around, though, something might turn up. The Press Club was quickly filling up, and waiters were beginning to circulate discreetly with trays of sherry. Clark accepted a glass and took a sip, wishing the alcohol was capable of relaxing his taut nerves. As he lowered the glass a flash of auburn hair at the entrance caught his eye and he turned, expecting to see Linda. Instead, his heart sank to new depths as he realised that Cat Grant had managed to wangle an invitation to the dinner; she was decorating the arm of a thickset man Clark recognised as one of the Star's city reporters. Cat had been mercifully absent from the newsroom this afternoon when he'd returned. He couldn't fathom how she'd managed to worm any info