When Larry Met Charlie By Wendy Richards Rated: PG-13 Submitted: August 2003 Author's notes: This story would not be finished if it wasn't for the help of so many people. Just after I started writing it, I went through a period of writer's block, when for some reason I could only write short stories. Long stories got stalled after a couple of dozen pages. However, thanks to the nagging and encouragement of a number of IRC friends (you know who you are, guys!), I finally got to a point where I could start posting it on the fanfic message boards (http://www.lcficmbs.com), and there I had even more encouragement and support. Thanks to all of you, this epic is now finished. Even more grateful thanks goes to my beta- readers. Kaethel and Annette, you cheerled and generally helped to inspire me, as well as making useful suggestions along the way. KathyB, who repaid me many times over for an advance sight of the whole story by very helpfully pointing out some errors and inconsistencies and thereby avoiding my embarrassment. ;) And, most of all, Yvonne Connell, BR extraordinaire, who stuck with me the whole way through this monster. You're just the best. :) Finally, the characters in this story are the property of DC Comics and Warner Brothers. No infringement of copyright is intended by their use in this work of fiction, and no profit has been or ever will be made from this story! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ When Larry Met Charlie ~ "...it's a great opportunity, Perry! I go undercover and get to be part of the gang, and I'll be able to break it open from the inside!" Perry raised a sceptical eyebrow in her direction. "Well, it sounds good, Lois, but are you absolutely sure you can get in? And that it's not too dangerous? You know the accountants weren't too happy at the hike in our insurance premiums last month." "I still think that was a con," Lois grumbled, pacing about the editor's office. "It's not as if I wound up in the hospital that much!" "Oh? And having your own personal `Lois Lane' coffee mug at the hospital cafeteria doesn't mean anything?" Perry drawled. "I do *not* - " Lois began, objecting. "Enough," Perry said dryly, interrupting her. "Anyway, okay, you go do it. And bring back a great story, y'hear?" "You bet, Perry!" With a grin, Lois marched back into the newsroom, already planning her disguise. ******** "Hey. I'm Larry." The fortysomething skinhead nodded. "Vinnie. You done this before?" Lois shrugged casually. "Few times. Back in Detroit - until things got too hot." "Good. Just do as you're told - no solo activity, no prima donna stuff, and you're in." "Great!" Lois extended her - carefully grubbied - hand, taking care to spit on her palm first. Vinnie did likewise before giving her a hard handshake. "Tonight. Where we agreed. Don't be late." ******* She was in! Vinnie had clearly been completely fooled by her disguise; she'd have to remember this one for future reference. The goatee beard and moustache were perfect, and the grubby woollen cap disguised her shiny, feminine hair - she hadn't even needed to cut it. The binding around her chest concealed her bustline, and the loose clothing she wore completed the effect. She looked exactly like a nineteen- year-old boy. Her bust felt pretty squished with all the binding she had to wear, but she could live with that - it was all worth it in the name of the exclusive, wasn't it? And this was nothing like as uncomfortable as some of the disguises she'd worn in the line of duty. She thought of the leather cat-suit she'd had to wear a year or so ago, and grimaced. Though even that hadn't been as bad as the bunny-girl outfit with the tighter-than-skin upthrust bustier. Or the frog costume... but she didn't need to be reminded of that! And, thanks to Jimmy's help - just what had that kid been in Juvy for, anyway? - she knew how to boost a car and had been able to demonstrate her talent successfully enough to convince Vinnie. She was in - she was already halfway to getting her story. And, she thought gleefully, perhaps another award... ******** "Larry. This is Charlie - he's new too. I'm going to team you two with Snake," Vinnie said later that night as half a dozen or so people congregated in the tumbledown brownstone in Suicide Slum. Lois studied the man called Snake. He was medium height and stocky, dressed in army fatigues and with a crew-cut. He also had a tattoo of a snake on his cheek - pretty noticeable, Lois thought. Someone like him could hardly fade into the crowd. These guys clearly believed that no-one was actually going to see them doing what they did. Still, it would mean that she'd have no difficulty at all in describing him to the police once that became necessary. She turned to glance at the other man - Charlie. And she felt her heart tilt dizzyingly. He was tall - around six feet, she guessed. Well-built, with a magnificent pair of shoulders. His hair was long and untidy and looked as if it needed a wash, and he wore stained jeans and a grimy sweatshirt, with a leather jacket that had seen better days. But his jaw was firm and strong, even partly covered as it was by a thin growth of beard, and his eyes... He wore fairly nondescript glasses, but as he met her gaze all she was conscious of was the dark brown intensity of his stare. And she felt as if she'd been hit by a bolt of lightning. Who was this Charlie? A car thief, she reminded herself. No-one she could even for one second contemplate being attracted to. she reminded herself caustically. She looked away from him, breaking eye contact in spite of the strange, insistent longing from somewhere inside her to carry on looking at him. In spite of the totally baffling conviction she seemed to be feeling that this piece of street-scum was her destiny... ******* Yawning, Lois hit `save' for the final time on her file of notes from the night's work. She stretched, again feeling grateful for the lack of binding around her chest; it had been sheer relief to take it off once she'd got home. It had been a very fruitful evening, she thought in satisfaction as she got up and headed for the bathroom and then bed, knowing that she could only afford to cat-nap for about three hours. Still, the lack of sleep was no big deal. It was worth it for the sake of what she knew was going to be another great story. She'd learned that the car-theft ring operated in groups of two normally; because she and Charlie were both new, they'd been sent out with Snake, but once the gang considered them to be sufficiently trustworthy, they'd fall into the normal working pattern. Lois herself had been involved in the theft of three cars, and from what she'd been able to tell, at least a dozen vehicles - all high-value and many of them imports such as Mercedes-Benz and BMWs - had been acquired in all. She now understood the thieves' methods - they'd drive to an upmarket area, carrying equipment to disable security lights or motion sensors, quickly break into the target vehicle and one of them would drive it away, taking it to the temporary compound, an abandoned warehouse also located in Suicide Slum. Car alarms were no problem to these operators, she'd quickly found - and she now knew how to disable the most common alarm. Once in the compound, she discovered, cars would have their licence-plates and chassis identity numbers changed and would be swiftly shipped out of the state. But she didn't yet have enough information to blow the whole thing open. She knew how they worked and where the cars were stored, sure; but she hadn't yet found out who was behind it all. Cars were stolen to order, she'd discovered: all the teams had been given instructions as to exactly where they were to go and which vehicles to get - she'd been surprised to find, on one trip, that they took a baby BMW convertible and left behind the more expensive X5 SUV. So who gave the orders? Who ran the show? She had to find the answers to those questions before she could write the story - well, before she could go to the police, she reminded herself. Yawning again, she slid between the sheets of her bed. But as she closed her eyes, the image of a face swam before her lids. Charlie. Charlie King, she'd discovered later in the evening. His good looks, even marred by his overall scruffiness, were undeniable. And his voice... For some reason, she hadn't expected a guy like him to have such a soft, gentle voice. And his eyes... Several times during the few hours they'd been working together, she'd glanced at him only to find him looking at her, and every time she'd felt a peculiar sensation as her gaze had met his. She'd even found herself fancying that his dark gaze was caressing her... Though that was completely ludicrous, she'd told herself with an incredulous shake of her head. He thought she was a man - well, a youth. A guy called Larry. He was strong, too, she'd noticed: one of the cars they'd lifted had large blocks in front of the wheels. Snake hadn't been able to move them, and Lois had tried with no success at all. Yet Charlie had kicked them out of the way with little apparent effort. He was clearly very experienced at car theft - he'd had the job of breaking into one of their target vehicles, and he'd had the door open in under a second. He was obviously a hardened criminal, she told herself firmly. And that meant that she had to put him out of her mind. He was going to jail, along with the rest of the gang. It was such a shame... Someone with his looks and his obvious intelligence - although they hadn't talked much, what little he'd said indicated to her that he was far from stupid - could have done so much better for himself. And if he had, if he hadn't chosen a life of crime, if she'd met him in different circumstances, what could they have been to each other? Nothing, she told herself wryly. She'd likely never have met him. After all, what might he have done instead of becoming a thief? Driven a taxi? Been a street-cop? Worked as a janitor or night security guard? It was unlikely that their paths would have crossed. And anyway, how did she know that he wasn't married? Or involved with someone, at least? Forget him, she told herself harshly. Concentrate on the *story*! ********** Clark typed the final line with a flourish, then ripped the page from his portable typewriter and, gathering the sheets together, read over his story. `Diary of a Car Thief.' It wasn't exactly ground-breaking stuff, but it was human interest: an insight into the mindset of a criminal, one engaged in the kind of theft which affected ordinary Americans. And it was the kind of story, he hoped, which would get him the big break he'd come to Metropolis for: a reporting job at the Daily Planet. He'd intended to apply for the job he almost thought of as his already as soon as he arrived in the city. But, looking through his portfolio again a week or so ago, he'd become consumed with insecurity. His best work was in there... and yet it looked flimsy. His most recent writing, for example, was on pretty esoteric topics, pieces he'd written for the Borneo Gazette, on subject-matter he really couldn't see a man like Perry White being interested in. And his more newsworthy stories were from a few years ago. He'd decided that he needed some more recent examples of what he could do. So, leaving Smallville a few days earlier than he'd intended, he'd arrived in the city a couple of days ago, intending to find something local to Metropolis that he could write about and, with any luck, show to Perry White to persuade him that Clark Kent, the reporter from Kansas, was worth hiring. And he'd struck lucky. Poking around one of the city's murkier areas in search of local colour, something he could maybe write a human- interest, socially-conscious article about - Clark knew he was good at that sort of thing. Anyway, he'd overheard, entirely due to his special abilities, two people talking and complaining about having lost a couple of good operatives lately. Listening further, he'd discovered that they were part of a theft and distribution racket. His first thought had been to report them to the police, but on reflection he'd realised that there was nothing he could have given the cops to go on. But he'd started thinking then... and later, he'd made himself look scruffy and had engineered a meeting with one of the men he'd seen, introducing himself as Charlie King, an experienced operative in their line of work. And now he was part of the gang. There wasn't quite enough in the story yet to make it saleable, though; he'd need to spend at least one more night out with the gang to get sufficient material. Not that Clark especially enjoyed being a part of criminal behaviour - far from it. And he was sorely tempted, right now, to fly over to the warehouse where they stored the stolen cars and return them all to their owners. But, he reasoned, that wouldn't do anything to ensure that the thieves were caught - and that was one thing he was determined to do before he was finished with this. So far, he had little to go on; it was pretty clear that the people he'd seen were only minions. There was a big boss somewhere, and Clark needed to listen very carefully, even use his abilities to sneak around a bit, to find out who that boss was. And come up with enough evidence against him to allow the police to do their job. Of course, he couldn't help recognising that if he did manage to do that, it would make him an even better proposition for the Planet. Glancing down at his story again, Clark mused briefly over the character studies he'd created - all using pseudonyms, of course. Vinnie and Snake, naturally... and Larry. Larry. Why could he not get that crazy kid out of his mind? Maybe it was because he was just a kid. Clark thought he couldn't have been much more than nineteen. What a waste of a young life! Larry should be in college, or starting his first proper job, at his age. But then, he reasoned, the kid had probably been dabbling in crime most of his life. He just couldn't understand what it was about Larry which had fascinated him. The kid wasn't especially remarkable - not particularly tall, a wispy goatee of a beard on otherwise smooth features which only highlighted his extreme youth, and dirty clothing and that awful hat. And those eyes... Deep brown eyes, which seemed to see right through him, to look into his soul. Eyes soft as a doe's, with beautifully curved lashes which Clark would just bet were smooth as silk to touch. And Larry's hands, grimy as they were and with grubby fingernails too, were slender and well- shaped. he commanded himself, aghast. He was *not* attracted to that juvenile delinquent! That *male* juvenile delinquent! Clark recoiled at the unbidden thought. Although he couldn't help wishing that he could help the kid to see the error of his ways, and maybe help him to break away from his life of crime. If only... ********* Keeping her eyes and ears open, Lois spent the following night trying to track down clues to the theft ring's leader. The guy clearly kept himself as anonymous as possible, she decided after discreetly questioning Snake and one or two other gang members. No-one seemed to know anything, and she was pretty sure that they weren't just saying that to shut up a nosy kid. At the same time, she found herself having to cope with Charlie, who for some reason was behaving in a very strange manner towards her. They were on the same team again, and for the first hour or so he'd seemed to be avoiding her. He'd barely glanced in her direction and, while she wouldn't have thought anything of that, she did notice that on the one occasion she did catch him looking at her, he looked away again very quickly, almost as if he felt ashamed to be seen watching her. Guilty. She frowned as she looked away herself. What was Charlie's problem with her? She thought he was attractive, even in spite of her better judgement about his character. Not that she could understand this completely ludicrous attraction to him. He was a car thief, after all - someone without ethics, who made his living by depriving other people of their hard- earned property. He'd probably never done an honest day's work in his life! She despised people like Charlie King. And since when had she found grunge in any way attractive? Her taste in men had been the same for years: well-educated, elegantly dressed, cultured men in respectable occupations. Men she could respect, and who would win the respect of her parents should she decide to introduce them. Not someone she'd be ashamed to take anywhere! Always assuming that he didn't wind up in jail before their first date... But what was she thinking? This ridiculous attraction to Charlie King couldn't possibly go anywhere. Yet she did undeniably find him attractive. So what was so wrong about him thinking the same - - except that, to this gang of thieves, she was a man. Larry Long. Lois stilled. Was Charlie... attracted to `Larry'? But that would mean he was... Before crushing disappointment could surge through her, she quelled it severely. Charlie was a *criminal*! He stole other people's expensive property, without a qualm, she reminded herself yet again. And it was her intention to see him in jail, along with the rest of them. Once she managed to find out who was running the show, of course... ******** Clark felt as if he was going crazy. He couldn't get Larry out of his mind! He was conscious of the kid the whole time; his senses were busy keeping track of Larry at every second, instead of doing what they were supposed to do. He *should* be trying to find out who was behind the operation. And with his extra abilities, that shouldn't be difficult. A conversation overheard here, a piece of paper read from a distance there... he should have what he needed without anyone being any the wiser. Instead of which, he was trying not to watch Larry. Clark had *never* been attracted to another man before. Not ever. Not even in the most disinterested way. It wasn't that he had anything against the *idea* that men could be attracted to other men; he just wasn't made that way. Or, at least, he'd always assumed that he wasn't. Taken it for granted, he supposed. He was attracted to women; of course he was! He'd fancied Lana Lang for ages before she'd finally agreed to date him. And, along with most of his classmates in Smallville High, he'd fantasised about Farrah Fawcett and Darryl Hannah, not to mention Catherine Bach. He'd gone with his friend to movies just to see their idol of the moment. Like his friends, he'd played Cindy Lauper records over and over, listening to her voice and staring at her semi-clad picture gazing out at him from the album cover. And, with a blush, he remembered even sneaking peeks at a girlie magazine or two as they were passed around in the locker-room. And feeling... interested. Of course he was attracted to women! And he'd never felt any kind of attraction to another man. This thing with Larry had to be his imagination. That was it. He was imagining it all, this strange compulsion he seemed to be feeling whenever the kid was around. It wasn't even as if Larry was all that good- looking, as men went. He wasn't even medium height, and he was thin and not remotely muscular, although the sloppy sweatshirt and jacket he wore hid any musculature he might have around his chest and shoulders. His hair was scruffy and hidden under that dirty hat. And his fingernails were grimy... Why had he noticed that? No, he was *definitely* not attracted to men. Or to Larry in particular. But he had such soft lashes around those deep brown eyes of his... ******** The next night, Lois and Charlie were again sent out with Snake. And despite the rush of pleasure she'd felt when she'd discovered that she'd be working with Charlie again, Lois was sorry for it. She didn't want to spend hours in the close proximity of a man she felt so attracted to. Not when this was a job. When she had to keep her mind fixed firmly on her *work*. And when he was a thief, one of the gang of criminals she was there to investigate. Charlie King was out of bounds, but for some reason her hormones didn't seem to want to recognise that. It hadn't just been a fleeting attraction, Lois realised within seconds of seeing Charlie again. He was lounging casually against the side of the anonymous-looking sedan car they were to use that evening, that disreputable woollen cap perched on his head. He'd raised a hand in greeting as she approached, giving her a crooked smile of welcome. And her heart had immediately gone flippety-flop. Charlie. The car-thief. The criminal. The most gorgeous man she'd ever met! Stealing a surreptitious glance at him while pretending to look over their night's itinerary, Lois found herself wondering what it would be like to be kissed by him. What his stubbled face and jaw would feel like against her own smooth skin... ...except her skin wasn't smooth at the moment, she reminded herself, deliberately bringing herself back to reality by running her hand across the fake beard she wore. She was disguised as a man. Even if Charlie might possibly find Lois Lane attractive in return, he certainly wasn't going to find Larry Long attractive, was he? Making herself ignore him, Lois went over to Snake and started a conversation with him, using the opportunity to try to find out more about the operation and those behind it. But, as on the two previous evenings, Snake either didn't know anything or was deliberately keeping quiet. She got nowhere. Stonewalled again. But that, Lois vowed, wouldn't last. She was going to get to the bottom of who was in charge here and break this gang open. Lois Lane *always* got the story, after all. Tonight, she was again with Charlie and Snake, and Snake led them over to a sedan with an old- fashioned bench seat in front. "You sit in the middle, Larry - you're skinny enough to fit between Charlie and me." Charlie opened the passenger door and gestured at Lois. "After you." Without glancing at him, she climbed in and slid across. Snake got in at the same time, his stocky build ensuring that Lois had to edge back towards Charlie's side of the car in order to have enough room - and to give herself just a little distance from Snake's too-obvious body odour. And then Charlie got in, and Lois found her thigh pressed right up against his. "Sorry," he said quietly. "I guess there's not that much room in here after all." She couldn't afford to let the fact that his closeness bothered her show in any way. Affecting a nonchalant shrug - which only made her shoulder brush Charlie's - she said carelessly, remembering to keep her voice gruff, "It's not a problem. Anyway, it won't be for long." "True," Charlie agreed, and then he leaned forward to address a question to Snake, about the vehicle they were on their way to 'lift', as he put it. The journey might have been short, but to Lois it felt like an eternity. Seated close to Charlie as she was, she was aware of him every inch of the way. Every time he shifted so much as a muscle, she felt it - her heart thudded and her stomach seemed to go flip-flop. Every one of her senses seemed to be aware of Charlie. She couldn't even concentrate on their route, or on anything Snake said, because all of her being was entirely focused on Charlie. She didn't want this awareness, but she couldn't seem to do anything to make it go away. His hand moved to rest on his lap, long fingers extended and drumming slightly. Lois's overactive imagination immediately started to wonder what it would be like to have those fingers stroking her face, running through her hair, roaming over her body. Would he be gentle? Or rough and demanding? What would his lips be like? Hot and fiery? Soft and yielding? Or - heaven forbid - wet and rubbery? "Stop it!" she told herself furiously. When Snake announced that they'd reached their destination, she gave a huge inward sigh of relief. ********* Clark gladly volunteered to be the one to drive their latest theft back to the compound. Sitting beside Larry had been sheer torture. It seemed that he was aware of every breath the boy took, every movement of every muscle and sinew. Even Larry's scent... and that had been incomprehensible. Clark suspected that it was only his extra-sensitive sense of smell which was allowing him to notice anything, but for a moment he could have sworn that Larry was - or had been - wearing some type of *feminine* perfume. He had to have been imagining it. There was just no way... For a moment, he'd been tempted to engage his special abilities fully, to see whether he really had smelt it, or if he was just imagining things. But he hadn't done it. He *had* to focus on putting these mad, *insane* feelings out of his mind. And the only way to do that was to focus his attention on anything but Larry. None of it made sense. He welcomed none of it - the tension which permeated his body whenever Larry was near, this insane desire he had - and had experienced just a couple of minutes ago, too - to reach out and caress the kid. To run his hand across Larry's lap as the other man had been sitting next to him. To stroke his cheek and see if it felt as smooth and soft as it looked. To see if those lips were as soft and tempting as they appeared... Was he going *crazy*? Or was it something to do with him being different? Clark's hand paused as he reached out to the Lexus he was about to steal. That was a possibility. After all, he and his parents still hadn't managed to work out just where he was from or what he was. They didn't even know if he was human or not. There were so many possibilities, and many of them worse than others - he could be some sort of genetic experiment by some government or other from the Cold War period, some sort of mutant - or even, he supposed, an alien from outer space, always supposing that there was life on other planets and that they had devised means of space travel. And, if that was the case, he'd thought on too many occasions, what must his parents, his family - always assuming that society on this hypothetic other planet recognised the concept of families, always assuming that their children weren't conceived and gestated in some artificial manner - have been like to have sent their child, a tiny baby, many millions of miles away, alone? Regardless of any of this, he *was* different. He might look human; most of his body might function in a humanoid manner. But some parts of it did not. After all, a human male was not able to lift very heavy objects, run at extreme speeds, see through solid objects and hear sounds from long distances away. Nor could any normal human set things on fire with his eyes, or freeze things with his breath. Or fly. So just what rule of not-human biology was there to say that he - whatever manner of creature or being that he was - couldn't be attracted sexually to men as well as women? His own squeamishness, for one, he answered himself instantly. He liked men, but as friends. *Not* as... well, as lovers. Boyfriends. And he didn't *want* to be attracted to men. Oh, sure, he was different. But, please, not different in that way! It had never even occurred to him that *he* might be like that, and he just didn't want it. Guiltily, he realised that he was reacting in a way which made him feel uncomfortable about his own levels of tolerance. Acceptance, his father had always recommended. Don't judge other people. It wasn't his place to criticise. It wasn't his place to dictate what was wrong or right about something which wasn't hurting anyone else, no matter what he himself believed. But, he reasoned as he made himself consider it rationally, his reaction wasn't based on prejudice. His dream, what he wanted most from his own life, was marriage, a family. Children. And... if he was attracted to men, not women, then that dream was just that - a dream, and no more. After all, if being not-human made him different in that way, would it be fair to ask any woman to accept him as he was? It didn't bear thinking about. The sooner he could get proof about who was behind this operation, the better. Then he could quit, write up his story, get his job at the Planet and never have to see Larry Long ever again. Safety beckoned - if only he could get the information he needed. This evening, preferably. Clark really wasn't sure that he could go through another evening like this one - and this one had barely started. Worse still, was Larry in any way aware of the insane thoughts which were running through his head? The kid had seemed unnaturally still in the car, as if he was so tense he was afraid to move a muscle. Just nervousness about the night ahead - or had he somehow worked out what 'Charlie' was thinking and was doing his best to avoid being anywhere near him? The thought made Clark shudder. It was bad enough that he was feeling this way, without having anyone else aware of it - and especially not the object of his totally impossible, unwanted attraction. Once he'd broken into the car they were after - and Clark still felt like a criminal himself as he did so - he watched Larry and Snake drive off with a sigh of relief. At least half an hour before he'd have to sit beside Larry again. And, if he was lucky, by then whatever ludicrous thing was happening to his hormones would have settled down. He hoped. ******** Tonight. She had to get the information she needed tonight. This was her fourth evening out with the car thieves, and if she didn't get results soon Perry would take her off the investigation and give her something else to work on. Probably something unutterably boring, like analysing the city council's pathetic environmental agenda. Yet more recycling schemes, and since the sub-committee had withdrawn its proposal to ban SUVs and pick-ups from the city centre, there was nothing at all controversial about it any longer. A real yawner of a story. Now, this was real investigative work. And tonight she was determined to get to the bottom of it. After a few hours, at some time after three in the morning, she and Charlie were sent, on their own, to acquire an Audi SUV. That would be her chance, Lois decided: they'd have to split up once they'd broken into the car, since one of them had to drive it back to the warehouse. And she could give him the slip and do some snooping around, something she knew she was very good at. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about being alone with Charlie. In one way, it was a bad thing, since he was new, like her, and therefore was unlikely to know any more about the operation than she did. In fact, given her reason for being part of this gang, he more than likely knew less. So pumping him for information would be even less profitable than asking Snake questions - despite her enthusiasm at being left alone in the sedan with Snake the previous night, the older man had barely grunted in response to most of her questions, and shrugged in answer to the remainder. Again, she'd been left to conclude that either he didn't know the answers, or was being very careful not to give anything away. Charlie, the newbie, would know nothing at all. From her perspective, then, he was completely useless. And yet... And yet she was still attracted to him and, despite knowing how impossible it was, despite despising herself for her inability to convince herself that she was *not* interested in him, a large part of her wanted to take every opportunity possible to spend time with Charlie King. After all, there wouldn't be many more, she was sure of that. She was absolutely determined to bring this investigation to an end at the earliest possible opportunity, and if she succeeded, then she would never see Charlie again after tonight. Well, only if she reported his trial, of course. So she climbed into the car beside him and said a gruff, "Okay, let's hit the road." Charlie drove to the address they'd been given. Again, he seemed to avoid looking at her unless it was unavoidable. But, a few minutes into the journey, he said abruptly, "So, what's a kid like you doing getting into something like this?" "What's it to you?" she muttered in a surly voice. Charlie shrugged, seeming a little uncomfortable, Lois thought. "You're still a kid. You've got your whole life ahead of you. Do you really want to risk a jail sentence?" "What makes you think it'd be my first?" Lois threw at him, deliberately aiming for bravado. Charlie sighed and said nothing, focusing on his driving in a way which seemed to emphasise his disapproval of her answer. "Like I said, what's it to you?" Lois persisted. "You on some kind of `learn from my mistakes' kick?" "Would that be so bad?" he asked, his voice soft. Its sound sent shivers through her, and Lois had to blink hard to prevent herself looking at him. He sounded so concerned, so caring... so nice! She didn't want to like him, dammit! And what was he up to, anyway? Trying to turning over a new leaf or something? If he was, then what was he doing here? Up to his neck in criminal activity - that was no way to make a new, crime-free start. Or was he, in some misguided way, trying to make up for his own criminality by dissuading someone else from a life of crime? Didn't that suggest that at least he had a conscience? *But she didn't want to like Charlie King!* She *couldn't* let herself like him. As soon as she'd got the information she needed, she'd be putting in a call to a contact of hers in the MPD's larceny division. And Charlie, along with Snake and Vinnie and the rest of them, would be going down. "It's none of your business what I do," Lois growled, being deliberately off-putting. "Sure," Charlie agreed. "I guess I was just hoping that you might consider... Still, it's your life - there's just so much more you could make of it." "Yeah, yeah," Lois drawled. "And next you'll tell me that a man can fly." "Uhh..." she heard Charlie mutter, and she glanced sharply at him; he seemed to be biting his lip. "What?" she demanded. "Nothing," he said, with what sounded like a sigh. "But I mean it, Larry. If you want to get out of this line of work, I could probably help you. You know, maybe help you get a legitimate job. You could leave all this behind you and start again." Surprised, she stared at him. What kind of car thief was this guy, anyway? He must really be regretting his own choices, she mused thoughtfully. She was glad to hear it; did that mean that he was thinking of getting out of the game himself? She decided to test him. "So, you taking your own advice, then?" That took him by surprise, she noticed. He blinked, and his hands tightened on the steering-wheel. After a few moments, he muttered, "It's a bit late for me." "Hardly, if you're serious," she snorted. "Maybe I'm happy with the way things are," Charlie replied, but he sounded uncomfortable. So. He didn't like what he was doing and knew it was wrong, but he had no intention of mending his ways and leading a law-abiding life. Probably too used to living off the proceeds, Lois thought cynically. Good intentions were all very well, but it took commitment and self-sacrifice to make them work, and clearly Charlie King had neither. The silence extended for a couple of minutes, until Charlie finally broke it. "Anyway, here we are." He drew the car up outside a large suburban house, where an Audi SUV was parked on the driveway. "You want to grab this one, or will I?" "You take it," Lois said quickly. This was her chance. She only had to wait until Charlie was inside the SUV with the engine running; then she could drive off, and if she put her foot down, she'd get back to their base long before Charlie could. That would give her time to do the snooping she needed. Smiling to herself in anticipation, she slid across to the driving seat. ******** Clark was surprised, though glad, to see Larry drive off so quickly. He immediately cut the SUV's engine, though - this was his chance, at last, to get away alone and do the snooping he needed. And then he could make his exit from car-thievery. Leaving the car exactly where it was - there was one owner who would never know how close he or she had come to losing their property, he mused wryly - he exited at faster than human speed and, finding somewhere dark, shot up into the air. Back at the thieves' base, he hovered under cover of darkness and used his vision powers to see inside. Vinnie was there, with two other men Clark didn't recognise. Concentrating, he listened in on their conversation... and realised that he'd struck gold. The older of the two strangers clearly ran the show. That was obvious from the way the two other men deferred to him and by the instructions he was giving. No names were mentioned, which was disappointing - but, judging by their conversation, the men were planning to hang around to do an inventory of the latest stolen cars. So he had time. He could call the police; they would get here while the gang was still safely ensconced and they'd be caught red-handed. Clark could then stick around to get the exclusive on the arrests, and possibly a couple of interviews. His eyewitness account of the arrests, combined with his participant observation of the gang of thieves, should definitely be enough to impress Perry White and, he hoped, get him the job he so longed for. Less than a second later, he was dialling from a payphone. ******** Dumping the getaway car in a side-street, Lois crept out and around the back of the warehouse where the thieves made their base. If she could just get into the small office she knew was at the back, then maybe she could find some identifying paperwork which would give her the identity of the boss or bosses. And then she could take it for her story, and then call the cops. And bingo! Another front-page splash; more evidence that Lois Lane was the best investigative reporter in the business. She moved stealthily around the building, looking for a back entrance or perhaps a window through which she could get in without being seen. There were a few windows, but all were at least five feet above street level - not easy without something to stand on. Glancing cautiously around, Lois noticed a few small dumpsters a little further down the alley, and she hurried over to grab one. It was about half-full, which made it heavy but also, she thought, sturdy enough to bear her weight. It was a struggle to drag it back up to the window she'd identified as, she hoped, belonging to the office in the back of the warehouse, especially as she was trying to be as silent as possible. Finally, she managed to manoeuvre it into position, and she climbed onto the top. Peering carefully through the window, she could see dimly that she was looking into an office - the small back office she'd known was there. Success! Now all she had to do was prise the window open and climb down inside. The office was empty, but she thought she could see paperwork lying untidily on the desk. She just hoped that there was no-one lurking around who would see or hear her in the room. Securing her entrance was the work of a couple of minutes; the window-frame was old and the fastening not too secure. The small penknife she always carried with her provided the necessary leverage, and she was soon jumping carefully down into the office itself. The room was in near-darkness, but one of the attachments on her penknife was a small Maglight, which provided a tiny beam of light just sufficient to see the documents. And she'd struck gold, she immediately realised. The papers detailed purchasing and shipping arrangements for the stolen cars, as well as specific orders for the models to be sold. And there were names: of purchasers, and of the man behind the outfit. She'd never heard of Damien Ridgeway before, but he was going to be a household name very soon, Lois decided with an exultant grin. Stuffing the papers hurriedly inside her bulky jacket, she dragged a chair over to the window and made her escape quickly, dragging the window shut behind her. In a couple of seconds, she was back on the ground and shoving the dumpster several feet away from the window - she had no wish to advertise the fact that she'd been in the sanctum. She'd been lucky; she'd known, of course, that someone could come in at any moment and she'd have had no excuse for her presence. But then, as she always argued when anyone questioned her attitude to risk-taking, if she didn't take risks then she wouldn't get the story. And that was what mattered, wasn't it? Caution was for wimps - and wimps didn't win awards for investigative journalism. Right; it was time to call the cavalry, or at least the police in the shape of her contact in Larceny. It really was about time Perry issued his reporters with cellphones, Lois thought in irritation as she headed to the end of the alley and tried to work out where the nearest payphone was. It would be so much more efficient in so many ways. She reached the corner and debated whether to go left or right, reluctant to pass near the front of the warehouse in case Snake or Charlie or any of the others saw her and wondered what she was doing. She should, of course, have returned by now to pick up Charlie and receive their next assignment. Charlie... who would go to jail along with the others once she called in the information. But that was the way it should be, wasn't it? she reminded herself. He was a criminal. He made his living stealing from other people. The fact that he was devastatingly attractive, in a grungy, scruffy manner, was completely irrelevant. She should have no sympathy for him. He didn't deserve any. His face swam before her eyes again; those liquid brown eyes, which had looked at her with such concern earlier as he'd tried to persuade `Larry' to see the error of his ways. His soft voice. The way he'd gestured with his hand, as if to demonstrate the strength of his feelings. His devastatingly attractive smile, which she'd noticed for the first time when she'd arrived that evening. He'd caught sight of her and, to her surprise, his eyes had seemed to light up and he'd smiled. She'd caught a flash of very white, even teeth, and she'd gone weak at the knees. That smile should come with a health warning, she'd thought. Had he any idea of the effect it had? Probably not, she told herself. After all, he thought she was a man. A kid. Unless her half-formed thought was right... unless Charlie was attracted to men. It was *not* a waste! Lois reminded herself furiously. She was *not* interested in Charlie King! He could hardly be further from the sort of man who was her type. And he was street- scum. A criminal. Someone who had no interest at all in rehabilitating himself. He was going to jail. And that was where he belonged. He'd probably get around three years, unless he had previous convictions, in which case he could get five or six. Prison wasn't a pleasant place. Lois knew that very well, having on several occasions seen the inside of a couple of Metropolis's prisons: the state penitentiary, which was on the outskirts of the city, and the county jail. Prisoners spent long hours of every day locked in their cells. Their narrow, cramped, dark cells. They were locked up with other criminals, many of whom had committed far worse crimes than stealing a few cars. And many of whom who would find an attractive man like Charlie an irresistible challenge. Lois shivered at the thought. Would he be safe in prison? But that wasn't her problem! Why was she concerned about Charlie King, anyway? He was a criminal. He belonged in jail. He deserved what he had coming to him. And that was the end of it. So she found him a little bit attractive. So what? She'd have forgotten him in a couple of days. Of course she would. She forced him from her mind and focused on getting to the nearest payphone. Left. Away from the thieves' depot would be safer, she decided, before noticing the familiar logo of a Lex Communications payphone booth across the road and a little way up from the warehouse. Abruptly changing direction, she headed for it. And suddenly someone grabbed her from behind, clamping one hand around her stomach to pull her tightly back against a hard, strong body, and another hand covering her mouth so that she could barely breathe. Despite her struggles, she was dragged almost effortlessly backwards and into the alley from which she'd just emerged. she cursed silently, kicking out at her captor for all she was worth. ******** Clark had been heading back towards the depot, intending to be in place when the police arrived so that he could get an eyewitness account of the arrests. The officer he'd spoken to, once she'd been convinced that he was on the level and really did have a major theft ring to hand to them on a plate, had promised to have a plainclothes team there within minutes, with uniformed backup not far behind. As he got closer, he scanned the interior of the depot with his special vision. The two men he'd seen earlier with Vinnie were still there, along with a few of the team of thieves. The police should be able to make plenty of arrests, Clark thought in satisfaction. As he refocused on the street, he noticed a slight figure walking hurriedly towards the warehouse. A very familiar slight figure... someone he'd been spending time at very close quarters with, at a lot of personal discomfort. Larry. Clark's mouth tightened as he watched the kid, and he frowned. It hadn't been his imagination. The last three nights, he'd had to keep a tight grip on his control to prevent himself staring at Larry, staring at him admiringly just as he might have looked at a woman he was attracted to. It didn't make sense. He was *not* attracted to men! And certainly not a runt of a scruffy teenager. That wasn't fair, Clark mentally castigated himself. His mom would have his hide for being so rude about someone else. But it was still true. Larry was *nothing* like the kind of person Clark had been attracted to previously. He wasn't even female, for a start! Clark still couldn't figure out what on earth was going on. Why, every time he so much as looked at the kid, did he want to get closer, to find out everything about him and even to hold him in his arms? He hadn't felt like that since he was at high school and in love with Lana! Not that he'd ever really loved Lana, Clark reminded himself. He'd liked her a lot and, yes, he'd felt lust for her, just like every other teenage boy around when it came to his girlfriend. But never love. In fact, he'd never felt love for anyone. Never had that sensation all the books and love-songs talked about, that feeling of utter helplessness in the face of overwhelming emotion. That need for the loved one; to see them, to be with them, to talk to them - to want to know that they were safe. Safe. Larry wasn't safe. In fact, right now he was walking right into a trap. The police were due any minute now. The kid was a car-thief, he reminded himself bleakly. And, from the way he'd been talking earlier, he'd been in prison already. He wasn't new to a life of crime. And he clearly had no intention or desire to change his way of life. Being arrested, going to jail, was no doubt what he deserved. And anyway, it might be the making of him. Maybe this time he'd learn his lesson and become rehabilitated. He should leave things as they were. Let Larry be arrested. He couldn't do it. In an instant, Clark was behind Larry; he grabbed the kid, covering his mouth so that Larry couldn't yell out, and dragged him back towards the alley. Larry was kicking and struggling for all he was worth; for such a slender kid, he was surprisingly agile. He knew martial arts too, Clark realised quickly. It was just as well he was stronger than normal men; it wasn't inconceivable that Larry could have escaped someone else's hold. "Cut it out, Larry!" Clark hissed in his ear as he backed into the alley. "I'm trying to save your skin!" He felt the man in his arms freeze. "Wha - " Larry struggled to yell, sounding furious, and Clark realised that he still had his hand over the kid's mouth. Just as well, he thought. Larry seemed angry enough to yell the place down. "Look," he muttered quickly. "The cops are on their way. I know, because I called them. Everyone's going to be arrested. You want to go to jail?" He could feel Larry's shock; what was more, the kid made another attempt to escape. Gripping him more tightly, Clark hissed, "Don't be stupid! Look, trust me - I'm trying to help you here!" His voice came out more gruffly than he'd intended, partly because holding Larry so tightly against his chest was doing strange things to his reactions yet again. Clark tried to squash the rush of sensation which made him want to soften his grip, turn it into a caress instead of an imprisoning hold. *Why* was he feeling like this? And then Larry's struggling movements made Clark's hand slide up the kid's chest, and with a huge surge of relief he realised why. Larry wasn't a man. She was a woman. ******** *Charlie* had called the police? What on earth was going on? That was her job, Lois thought, confused, as she struggled to free herself from his grasp. What did he think he was doing? Why would he, one of the gang, betray the others? And how *dare* he grab her like that? Manhandle her? Keep his filthy hand over her mouth? It wasn't as if she had anything to fear from the cops anyway! But of course he didn't know that... Not that it mattered! He had no right to grab her like that! She kicked out at him again, trying to loop her foot around his ankle at the same time. He was too fast and strong for her, though: yet again he dodged her manoeuvre. And then suddenly his arms fell from around her and he jumped back as if he'd been scalded. She spun around to give him an accusing glare and a piece of her mind, but the expression of utter shock on his face stopped her. "You're a woman!" he hissed. Ah. Oh. Uh-uh... But he had been holding her across her chest, Lois realised. So it was probably only to be expected that he'd figure it out. But unfortunate, all the same. On the other hand, she could probably brazen it out. "So what?" she threw at him. Attack was always the best form of defence anyway. "What's it to you, King? And anyway, what the heck's going on here? What do you mean, you called the cops?" He took a deep breath, drawing himself upright in the process and reminding her just how tall and broad-shouldered he was. "I called the police. The whole gang's going to be arrested any minute now. And - call me foolish - I thought I'd give you a chance to get away. Because you're just a - well, I thought you were just a kid. But you're not, are you?" "That's none of your business," Lois snapped hurriedly, now desperate to get back to the warehouse to see what was going on. Her story was in danger of evaporating right under her nose if she didn't hurry! Well, maybe not quite `evaporate', she corrected, but if she wasn't there for the arrests she'd miss a major part of the scoop. Besides, she wanted to ensure that whatever ham-fisted street cops were there understood that the exclusive was *hers*. She began to stride off, but Charlie caught her arm. "What are you doing?!" he demanded, agitated. "If you go back there now, you'll wind up in jail!" Lois was about to enlighten him, but stopped herself, deciding that it was none of his business. "Look, buster, I don't know what you're up to here or what kind of game you're playing, but I'm out of here!" She pulled away from him. "I'm a reporter!" he almost shouted at her. "I've been undercover, okay?" "You're *what*?" Lois halted, swung around and stared at him, hands on her hips. That was her line! "I said, I'm a report- " "For what news organisation?" Lois demanded, incandescent. "And who leaked this to you?" "Leaked? Nobody leaked anything!" Charlie retorted. "I think you're forgetting that I saved your skin here, Larry or whatever your name is! Now, if you don't mind, I have to go and talk to the police." He tried to march past her, but Lois shifted, placing herself in his path. "Oh, no, you don't! Not before you tell me who you're working for!" "To quote you... what's it to you?" he threw at her. Frustrated and angry, Lois almost yelled, "Because I'm from the Daily Planet! And this is *my* story!" "You're kidding!" Charlie exclaimed. ******** He stared at her, crestfallen. This had been his big break; he'd been sure of it. This story would have got him a job at the Planet. And now none of that was going to happen. The Planet already had the story. And, he realised suddenly as he stared at the slender woman in front of him, still dressed as a youth, he knew who she was. Lois Lane. Investigative reporter for the Daily Planet. *Award-winning* investigative reporter. She'd won three Kerth awards in as many years, he'd discovered when he'd done his pre-interview research on the Planet's current staff. He'd heard of Lois Lane even before that, of course, and had read some of her earlier work. She was *good.* In preparation for his interview, he'd read a number of her stories, including the award-winning ones, and again been highly impressed. And envious. He'd even added her existence to his list of reasons for wanting to work at the Planet; working with Lois Lane - even if just in the same newsroom; even if he never actually worked *with* her - would be a privilege. If Lois Lane was on this story, then he might as well tear up his drafts and throw them in the trash. He didn't have a hope. But then a thought struck him. Her reaction to his true identity had all been about concern for her exclusive; she'd wanted to know who had leaked the story to him, and she'd insisted that it was *her* story. "It's my story too," he pointed out firmly. "Yeah? Well, who are you anyway?" she demanded scathingly. "I certainly don't recognise you. And who do you work for?" "I'm freelance," he said, sliding over the truth. "And this story's for... for whoever will pay me most for it. LNN, maybe. Or the Star," he invented, knowing that his only chance here was for the famous Ms Lane to continue to feel threatened by the loss of her exclusive. "Forget it, buster," she said bluntly, arms akimbo and her tone hostile. "I've already got it for the Planet. Everything. There won't be a paper in Metropolis that'll touch it. Not when the Planet had it first." "Who says they'll have it first?" Clark countered. "And anyway, it was me who called the police. They'll talk to me, not you." "So?" Lois shrugged, her expression indicating complete unconcern. "Zymack in Larceny will talk to me." "You got names?" Clark asked, knowing that was the big gap in his knowledge. He'd hoped to get that last piece of information from the police. "I've got everything I need," Lois Lane informed him. "And now, if you don't mind, I've got a story to file. Once I've talked to the police, that is." She turned away again and began to walk back towards the warehouse. Clark followed, catching up with her. He wasn't going to give up yet! No matter how domineering or arrogant Ms Lane tried to be. This was *his* story too, and he was determined to get some benefit out of it. In spite of Lois Lane's best efforts! ******** Three ordinary-looking saloon cars were parked in front of the warehouse, Lois saw as she approached. And inside there was chaos. Various members of the gang, including two men she hadn't so far seen, were in handcuffs and being led, protesting, out onto the street by men who, Lois thought, just looked like cops. One of these days, she thought, the MPD would finally learn how to disguise its undercover officers so that they would actually blend in. One of the cops turned to face her as she approached, Charlie tagging along beside her. "Either of you Kent?" he enquired. "I am," Charlie announced. Lois gave him a sharp look. "Clark Kent," he said, gesturing at himself with his thumb. "This is Lois Lane of the Daily Planet," he added to the detective. Clark Kent. As she'd suspected, she'd never heard of him. And she was pretty sure that she knew all the decent journalists in Metropolis - not that there were all that many of those - as well as all the mediocre ones too. Including the freelances. "I'm Fernandez," the cop introduced himself. "Sergeant - Larceny." Some reporter Kent was! Lois thought smugly. If he really thought this was his scoop, what was he doing even acknowledging her presence, let alone introducing her? She certainly wouldn't have done it. And since the cops knew who he was, he'd had the advantage. He must have known that. And he'd thrown it away. Idiot! He'd known who she was, interestingly. She hadn't told him, so he had to have worked it out for himself, despite her disguise. Not that she should be surprised - after all, she was the Planet's star reporter. Why wouldn't another reporter figure it out? It stood to reason: she'd told him she worked for the Planet, so she could only be Lois Lane. "You from the Planet too?" the cop asked Kent as several MPD cruisers pulled up. "I'm freelance," he said. "Ms Lane and I were both working on this." Again, he was ensuring that she got equal access to information, Lois noted. Not that it mattered; one phone call to Zymack in half an hour or so and she'd have all she needed. But Kent was making it even easier for her to cut him out altogether. He'd never survive in journalism, she thought cynically. "Hey!" Vinnie yelled as he was being led out to a police car. "You two are freakin' *reporters*? You - !" His obscenity was cut off by a uniformed officer, who shoved him hard into the back seat of the car. "Come into the back office," Fernandez said, gesturing to Lois and Kent. They followed him, Lois frantically trying to think of a way to cut Kent out, but nothing sprang to mind. After all, Fernandez knew that it was Kent who'd called the cops anyway, and she was only there because Kent had stupidly included her. "There's one thing I want to clear up first," Fernandez said, pausing in the doorway to the back office. "You two have been undercover with the gang?" "That's right, we have," Kent confirmed, before Lois could say anything. "Now, this could be a problem. You helped to steal cars? Your prints will be on some of these vehicles?" Lois stared at Fernandez, barely able to believe what she was hearing. "What's that got to do with anything? I was - *we* were doing you guys a favour! If we hadn't got our fingers dirty, these guys would still be ripping off cars and selling them and you people wouldn't have a clue who they were or how to catch them. And you're complaining because we had to steal a car or two to get the evidence?" "It's still a criminal offence," Fernandez pointed out calmly, clearly refusing to rise to the bait of Lois's righteous indignation. "Theft. Larceny. And probably another couple of charges once the boys at the precinct get their hands on the case and get it ready to pass up to the DA's office." "You mean you're going to *arrest* us?" Lois snarled, ready to demand a phone so that she could call Perry and get him to alert the Planet's lawyer. At least she would be protected. She noticed that Kent was staying very silent during this conversation. "You wouldn't have the arrests without us," Kent intervened to say - exactly the point which Lois herself had made only a minute earlier, she noted with impatience. "And we only did what was necessary to sustain our cover. I'll be very happy to give a full statement and identify anyone you need me to. Arresting us would be a waste of police time, anyway - you know the Planet's lawyers will have us out in no time." Lois thought with a cynical curl of her lip. He was making one heck of an assumption there. Why on earth should the Planet's lawyers lift a finger to help Kent? "Hold on, hold on," Fernandez said. "I only wanted to point out to you that you've been treading a fine line between legitimate investigation and getting yourselves arrested - you especially, Ms Lane. I've heard of you. And this time you crossed that line. You're right, though. We wouldn't have these arrests if it wasn't for you. So of course you're not under arrest. But I can't guarantee that you won't be if there's a next time. Just a friendly warning. Okay?" "Point taken," Kent said; Lois raised her eyebrows at him. She would never have let Fernandez get away with his `friendly warning'. But it was probably better to say nothing, she decided. "Anyway, let's go inside so we can talk properly," Fernandez added, indicating the back office. "I do need statements from both of you, and I've no doubt you want stuff from me. I can't give you much, but we owe you something for the tip-off. These guys had us stumped, and the police chief was getting it in the neck from the mayor." Lois again tried to think of a way to dump Kent, but nothing sprang immediately to mind. It didn't matter, she told herself. He'd said - twice - that he was freelance. That meant he still had to sell his story. And since it would be in the Planet as soon as she could get it written - which now probably meant today's afternoon edition - she couldn't envisage anyone wanting to give him a penny for it. Unless he went to LNN or a radio station, but they'd want pictures or at least an audio file... ...unless he was carrying a tape recorder? Well, she could check that out. Once in the back office, Lois said to Fernandez, "You don't mind me taping this?" He shrugged. "I'm not going to tell you anything that's not on the record anyway." She fumbled in the inside pocket of her jacket, pretending not to be able to find her miniature recorder. Then, glancing at Kent, she asked, "You got a tape recorder?" "Can't find yours?" He gave her what she could only describe as a smirk. "I don't need one. I can take almost verbatim notes." From his pocket he produced a reporter's notebook and pencil. Excellent, Lois thought, and she quietly depressed the `record' button on the machine hidden inside her jacket. ******** Clark smothered an amused smile as his sensitive ears picked up the tiny click. So Ms Lane had been playing a little game, had she? She'd intended to tape the interview all along, but had been ensuring first that he didn't have the means to do so himself. He was beginning to see just how Lois Lane had earned her reputation for getting some of the most incredible scoops around. She clearly believed that she could outsmart most people - and most of the time, she'd be right. Still, he wasn't worried. As he'd told her, he really could take verbatim notes. Just as long as he could keep his ultra-fast scribbling out of sight of the other two, that was... Fernandez was talking about his amazement at seeing the range of luxury cars in the warehouse. Clark allowed his attention to drift, and he surreptitiously studied his fellow reporter. Larry Long was a woman. The amazing relief of that discovery still hadn't gone away. His inexplicable attraction to her now made complete sense. He wasn't confused about his sexuality at all. She was a woman. Lois Lane. And, looking at her now, he was faintly surprised that he hadn't made the discovery before. Her lashes were too luxuriant for a man's. And those eyes... Now that he knew, they looked feminine and beautiful. And then there were her lips - even surrounded by scruffy facial hair, they looked eminently kissable. And desirable. He couldn't wait to see her dressed as herself. And to find out whether she was as attractive as he was already imagining her to be. He wanted to get cleaned up himself, to get rid of his disguise and let her see him just as he really was. Would she - *might* she find him attractive too? Was there any possibility...? His attention refocused on Fernandez for a moment, and he made a quick note of the man's words. Nothing crucial just yet. He was well aware that Lois thought he'd been foolish to have included her in on this interview with the detective - that in her eyes he'd made a strategic error. He could easily have shut her out; he'd had the advantage. And she'd have missed an important element for her story. He hadn't done that. And he still had hopes that it could work to his advantage. If she understood that he wasn't planning to shaft her behind her back by cutting her out of important information... Although, he thought with an inward frown, Lois Lane didn't appear to be a particularly trusting individual. She worked alone, from what he could tell, and it was clear that nothing was as important to her as getting the story. And beating everyone else to it. Still, she hadn't beaten him yet. Even though, as yet, he had nowhere to take his story, and she seemed to have the paper of his choice all sewn up. At the same time, why should she trust him? He *was* planning to deny her her exclusive, wasn't he? If he didn't, then his chances of getting any paper in Metropolis to employ him were very much diminished. The Planet was out of the question now, of course, but he needed to get a job somewhere. So, once they left here, he'd be making straight for the Metropolis Star as quickly as he could get there. Which, given his unusual abilities, would be considerably faster than Ms Lane could get to the Planet! With any luck, the Star would be impressed with what he had and would offer him a job on the strength of it. And if their edition happened to hit the streets just before the Planet's, so much the better. He'd noticed over the past couple of days that the Star's afternoon edition tended to arrive at newsstands fifteen or twenty minutes ahead of its competitor. If the Star's editor knew that the Planet had this story too, he'd no doubt ensure that his paper was out even earlier today. Lois did have another advantage over him, so far as Clark could tell: she had the names of the ringleaders and, if her comment hadn't been a bluff, documentary proof of it. Not that she'd be able to hang onto that without getting into trouble with the police for withholding evidence, but that wouldn't be too difficult: a quick photocopy back at the Planet offices, and she could hand the papers over to the police with a sweet apology for her `forgetfulness'. So he needed to make sure he got names before Fernandez left, to even things up. Fernandez was now getting down to serious business, and Clark concentrated. It seemed that a very brief search of the papers in the office had revealed that the gang had contacts in several Middle Eastern and African countries, which was where the stolen cars were shipped and sold to order. "We'll be contacting the police in Uganda and the Emirates and the other places - it looks like we have names for most of their contacts. This is a huge international racket you've broken open here, Kent. The MPD is going to be very grateful." "Hey!" Lois interrupted, sounding very indignant. "This wasn't all Kent's doing! I was working on the case too. He only beat me to the phone-call! " Fernandez blinked, then smiled slightly. "Well, I'm sure we're grateful to you too, Ms Lane. But you were working together, weren't you?" Clark waited for Lois to deny it vociferously. But, to his surprise, she shrugged. "Well, yes. But I got the hard evidence while he played decoy." He wondered what she was up to, until it occurred to him. If she'd denied working with him, Fernandez might have felt obliged to give *him* any further information exclusively, since he was the one who'd tipped off the police. This way, she stayed within the loop. She didn't miss a trick. And they both got the story. ******** Now, all she had to do was spike Kent's guns in some way, ditch him, and then get back to the Planet, Lois thought as they emerged from the warehouse half an hour later. The police cars had mostly left; now the area was surrounded by workmen and car transporters, clearly starting the task of getting the stolen vehicles to a police compound. Photographers and forensic experts were also still hard at work. Kent... now there was a problem. And yet, in another way, there wasn't. Lois finally allowed herself to admit to the feeling of relief which had been present ever since he'd identified himself as a reporter. He wasn't a criminal. He wasn't a thief. He wasn't going to jail. And so there was no reason at all why she shouldn't be attracted to him. Why she shouldn't want to explore these strange, powerful feelings she'd been having about him right from the moment she'd met him. Why she shouldn't find out where it might lead; if there was a chance that he might feel the same way about her. No reason at all. But of course there was a reason, she reminded herself sharply. He was a rival. Another reporter. Someone who wanted to take *her* exclusive and sell it to another paper. The fact that he had gorgeous brown eyes and a smile that made her want to melt had no bearing at all on the matter. It meant *nothing*. Clark Kent was history. And anyway, she reminded herself with a grimace, he'd thought that she was a man, hadn't he? And he'd let her go pretty darned quick once he discovered otherwise! Almost as if he'd had an electric shock... And that definitely told her how he felt about his discovery that she was female, didn't it? Not that it mattered, she told herself firmly. The only thing that mattered - the only thing that ever mattered - was the story. But ditching him could be a problem, she mused. After all, he had as much of a scoop as she did. Okay, he didn't have the papers which she'd so carefully secreted away, but they did both have a statement from the investigating officer which gave them both all the details they needed - including where the stolen cars were destined for, and Damien Ridgeway's name and those of his contacts, even if they'd had to promise to hold back those names for the time being, until they'd been arrested by the police in their own countries. Kent could be a big problem if she didn't find a way of preventing him selling his story to someone else. Unless... he didn't sell it to someone else. A smile curved around Lois's face as an idea occurred to her. And, given Kent's obvious naivety, it might just work... Moving so that she was walking closer to Kent, she turned to him, deliberately giving him a friendly look. "So... Clark, is it?" She saw one of his eyebrows shoot up. "Yeah, Clark Kent... Lois." She got a brief flash of a heart-stopping smile, which almost made her falter in her plan. Almost. "We need to talk," she told him, deliberately making herself sound reasonable. "Look, there's an all-night coffee bar just around the corner. How about we go there? I'm always less growly after a decent injection of caffeine anyway." "Okay. I'd like that." He sounded surprised. "Uh... and, Lois?" "Yeah?" "I... just wanted to tell you how relieved I was to find out that you weren't part of the gang after all." Lois glanced at him, taken aback by his comment, and was surprised to note that he was blushing faintly. "I mean, I... uh... well, I couldn't help liking you, and I hated the thought of you going to jail..." "So you tried to persuade me to mend my ways, and you stopped me walking into the trap," Lois finished quietly, now feeling just a little bit guilty at her plan. After all, Charlie - Kent - had tried to help the misguided kid he'd believed Larry Long to be. He'd stuck his neck out and saved Larry from arrest. Stupid of him, her inner voice observed sardonically. After all, if Larry Long had been what he pretended, the kid would have been in and out of detention centres since before his teens. A few kind words from some do-gooding liberal wouldn't have made any difference. Kent was naive to believe anything else. "It was probably a kinda stupid thing to do," Kent answered, unconsciously echoing her thoughts. "I just... well, it doesn't matter. Anyway, I'm glad you're who you turned out to be." No! Lois squelched the thought before she could complete it. Kent was a rival - a rival she could do without. As Charlie King, he was safe to admire from a distance. As Clark Kent, he was trouble with a capital T. And she needed to neutralise him - the sooner the better. Inside the coffee-bar, they took a booth and ordered coffee - hot and strong, Lois insisted to the balding, overweight guy who came to take their order. And chocolate and cinnamon doughnuts, but only if they were fresh. Nothing with fake cream, she insisted, ignoring the sour look she got from the waiter. She was the customer, after all, and if he wanted her business - and his tip - his job was to make sure that she got what she wanted. When their drinks arrived, Kent took a sip of his, then faced Lois with a questioning look. "So, what did you want to talk about?" She shrugged. "Well, it seems to me that we've got a problem. And I'm hoping that we can find a way to resolve it amicably." "We do?" Was he a complete idiot? Lois wondered. Or was he being deliberately disingenuous? She decided to play along, and retained her air of calm friendliness. "See, we've both got the same story, and if you take it somewhere else, then the Daily Planet doesn't have the exclusive we were hoping for. So, Clark, tell me - where were you hoping to sell this? Where do you usually sell your work? Because I thought I knew most of the freelances in Metropolis, but I've never come across a Clark Kent before now." He grimaced. "You won't have." Sighing, he added, "You see, I've just arrived in Metropolis. I've worked freelance in several different countries, but not in the US, though I did work for a local newspaper in Kansas for a while. I came here hoping to get a job on a paper. Uh... actually, I was hoping to work at the Daily Planet," he finished, sounding disheartened. He was? Oh, that made it even easier, Lois thought exultantly. It'd be like taking candy from a baby... And he really was naive, too. A more seasoned reporter would never reveal just how vulnerable he was. He'd set himself up to be cut out of this story. Really, she almost owed it to him to do it; it was a lesson he clearly needed to learn if he was ever going to learn how to survive in the cutthroat world of journalism. "Well, maybe I can help there," she said brightly, giving him a brilliant smile. "See, the only way I get my exclusive is if we share it. That means we *both* take our stories to Perry. That's Perry White, by the way. Editor- in-chief of the Planet." Kent nodded, and she could see him trying to swallow a lump in his throat. "Yeah, I... uh, I know who Perry White is. You mean it? You'd persuade him to buy my story?" "It's the only way out of this situation, Clark. Isn't it?" she pointed out. "And this way you get a byline in the Planet - and if Perry likes your work, maybe you even get a job out of it too. How does that sound?" ******** How did it sound? It sounded... too good to be true. On the other hand, it made some kind of sense. Lois Lane, he could well imagine, would hate the thought of being denied an exclusive. And he could mess things up for her pretty badly if he tried. He could take his story to the Metropolis Star and they'd no doubt be glad to spike the Planet's guns. Even better, he could take it to a TV or radio news station, which would have it on the airwaves in time for the morning news bulletins. There was no way that the Planet would be able to publish it before their afternoon edition. So this was the only way that she could salvage her exclusive. That did make sense. And this way there was still a chance that he might get hired by the Planet after all. That was true... but there was also the chance that the editor might just buy his story, thank him nicely and then show him the door. He'd be left with no job, and no trump card in terms of getting a job. Wouldn't he be better to go ahead with Plan B and take his story to the Star? But that was a risky strategy too. What if the Star wasn't interested? What if somehow the Planet managed to get their story, or spoilers for their story, out first? The Star wouldn't want to touch him then. What if Lois Lane found some other way to stick a spoke in his wheel if he declined her offer? No; this way he at least had Lois on his side. It was in her interests, after all, to keep him on side, and so probably the best way to protect himself was to go along with her. After all, this would still give Perry White a chance to see what he could do, and he had the promise of an interview with the Planet's editor anyway. Mr White might even be impressed that Clark, instead of taking the story elsewhere once he knew that a Planet reporter was already on the case, had agreed to take it to the Daily Planet. But still he hesitated. Something about the way Lois had behaved towards him ever since he'd told her who he was warned him that this wasn't a woman who would do him any favours if she could at all avoid it. She seemed the ruthless type; of that he was very sure. And anyway, she was unlikely to have won the numerous awards to her name without treading on a few toes along the way. Not when she'd won so many, and at so young an age. Was it likely that someone like Lois Lane would make him an offer like this and really mean it? Sure, he'd already acknowledged that it would save her exclusive. The last thing she wanted was for him to take the story elsewhere. But she probably had other ways of achieving that, too. Was this a trap? He studied her carefully, putting his senses on full alert. Her pulse rate seemed a little higher than normal; there was certainly some anxiety there. But did that mean she was lying? Or just that she was worried that he might reject her offer and take the story somewhere else after all? She was looking directly at him, her gaze not wavering from his face. Could she lie and still look her target in the eye? Not many people, unless they were especially devious, could deceive and still *look* honest and open. He still wasn't entirely sure that he could trust her... but he'd give her the benefit of the doubt. His gut instinct was telling him that there was a pretty good chance that she was on the level. Why shouldn't he believe her? Smiling warmly at Lois across the table, Clark extended his hand. "I think you've got a deal." She accepted his hand, giving him a firm clasp in return. Her hand felt small and delicate in his large one. And Clark felt a sensation almost akin to an electric shock as he touched her. Maybe he really was going to find everything he'd ever dreamed of in Metropolis, he thought dazedly, looking back at Lois with what he was sure was a silly smile on his face. He already felt halfway in love with her, and he hadn't even seen her as she really was! But he would soon, that was clear. And he couldn't wait! "We'd best get going," she said abruptly, breaking the spell for Clark as she withdrew her hand. "We should be able to get a cab to the Planet from somewhere around here." "I'd really like to go back to my room first," Clark said ruefully, dragging the back of his hand over his bearded chin. "In fact, I need to - my work's all over there. What I'd written before tonight, that is. How about I meet you at the Planet in half an hour or so?" She gave him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding? Do you honestly think I'd let you out of my sight?" "Huh?" He stared at her, frowning. "You have my exclusive," she pointed out; Clark refrained from reminding her that it was also *his* exclusive. "If you think I'm letting you go *anywhere* on your own, you've got another think coming! And if you've any sense, you wouldn't let me get away from you either," she added, giving him what almost seemed like a scornful look. Puzzled, Clark looked away; her friendliness of only a couple of minutes ago seemed to have vanished. Now he was confused. Lois seemed to have qualities in common with a chameleon. She'd undergone several changes of personality since he'd uncovered her disguise. Which was the real Lois Lane? And could he trust her? She got to her feet, throwing a five-dollar bill onto the table. "Clark, you need to get some street-smarts if you're going to survive in Metropolis very long. It's a shark-pond out here. Where did you say you were from?" "I didn't - but Kansas," he said, getting up as well and following her to the exit. "Figures," she commented. "First lesson: trust nobody. Then you won't be disappointed." Outside on the street, she put her fingers in her mouth and whistled piercingly; Clark winced. But a taxicab appeared almost out of nowhere and screeched to a halt beside them. "Right. We'll go to your place first," she announced, getting in. "Okay," he agreed a little weakly. She was nothing short of a tornado! Even with all his abilities, he was finding it difficult to keep up with her. Getting into the cab, he sank somewhat gratefully into the back seat. "Earth to Kent!" He blinked and looked at her enquiringly. She was giving him a frustrated stare. "Where to?" "Oh! Sorry. The Apollo Hotel," he told the cabbie. Lois's grimace didn't surprise him; it was a dive, and he knew it. But it was all that he could afford, until he got a job and a paycheque. Which, it seemed, could be pretty soon. ********* Lois hated having to wait for anyone, so cooling her heels in this grimy cesspit of a hotel was not her cup of tea. But, she reminded herself, it was worth it to get her exclusive. Kent was getting changed, he'd explained. Well, he did need to; his clothes were pretty appalling. Though hers weren't much better... Much as she hated the idea of letting a stranger into her apartment, they were probably going to have to go by her place next. She was leaning against the counter in what passed for a kitchen in the strange apartment/hotel room Clark was renting, casting her gaze around the room. She'd already sneaked a peek inside his fridge and cupboards - stuffed to the gills with junk food, she'd noticed in amazement - and speculated on the state of his bedroom. Charlie King - or Clark Kent, as she had to learn to call him - didn't exactly appear to her to be the neatest of men. But he was still pretty darned good-looking... Lois commanded her inner voice. Kent's attractiveness had nothing to do with it. He was a rival - a hick reporter, of course, but a rival no doubt at the moment - from whom she had to protect her story. And that was exactly what she intended to do. It was easy to tell that he wasn't used to the big city, or even the competitive world of working for one of the country's top newspapers. She didn't know what his previous experience was, although he'd given her some spiel about freelancing internationally, but she wouldn't be surprised if he'd just worked for some small-town paper somewhere. The Hicksville Herald, she thought sardonically; no doubt just a weekly paper. And where the biggest story he'd handled would've been when one farmer's cows invaded someone else's field. Yeah, he was no competition. Clark Kent would never know what had hit him. And he'd be on the train back to Ohio - or was it Kansas? - before the day was out. She smiled in satisfaction, already visualising her front-page story and the 42-point headline it would get, above the fold. Yep, this was definitely a potential award-winner... The door opened suddenly, and she turned to urge Kent to hurry up. But the words froze on her tongue as she looked at him and... ...just... ...stared... Her jaw was gaping open; Lois realised what a sight she must look and turned away, closing her mouth. He cleaned up pretty well. Actually... that was an understatement. He was even more attractive than she'd imagined when she'd seen him as gang-member and thief Charlie King. His hair was clean and carefully styled, albeit over-long. He wore a not-very-fashionable suit, clearly his best but nothing which would show to advantage in Metropolis. And his glasses - the same as he'd worn for the past three nights, so clearly his only pair - were old- fashioned and unflattering. But his face was clean-shaven and he was... He was *gorgeous*. Clark Kent could have been a male model, Lois thought dazedly as she turned back and looked at him. She'd known that he was tall, but she hadn't taken in the full impact of those broad shoulders, that firm jaw and... oh, and that dizzying smile. Because he was smiling at her. Openly and without a trace of guile. Trustingly. And she was going to stab him in the back. Lois turned away, trying to ignore the guilt spearing through her. "Come on," she said abruptly, reaching for the doorhandle. "We need to get going." ******** Clark followed Lois down the stairs and out of the Apollo Hotel, glad to be outside again. He'd felt very uncomfortable about bringing her up to his room - not so much that she was a stranger, but because it was a horrible place. He'd felt ashamed that she'd seen where he was staying. He knew that Lois Lane had worked for the Planet for about four years, and she'd already won three Kerth awards. She was probably on a pretty decent salary, and he could imagine that her apartment - or house, even? - was a far cry from the Apollo Hotel. So much for imagining that he could impress her in any way. He was just a penniless reporter from Smallville. Why should a successful woman like Lois Lane even give him a second glance? He winced again as she gave another piercing whistle. If he was going to be spending any significant amount of time with this woman, he was going to have to watch his eardrums, Clark thought. At the very least, he'd have to shut down his super-sensitive hearing. That was twice now that she'd almost blasted him out of it. A taxi pulled up within seconds - no cabbie would dare keep the tornado that was Lois Lane waiting any longer than that, Clark thought in amused admiration. Even dressed as a scruffy kid, she seemed to command attention. "Carter Avenue," Lois said snappily, getting in and gesturing impatiently for him to follow her. "What's on Carter Avenue?" he asked, puzzled. "My place. I need to get changed as well," she said briefly, in a tone which didn't really encourage further conversation. Clark slid into the back seat beside her, taking advantage of the silence to glance down at his draft of the car-ring story and the rest of his portfolio. He was about to meet the editor of the Daily Planet, and somewhat sooner than he'd anticipated. He just hoped that he had enough to impress Mr White. He thought his work was good. His old journalism professor was impressed enough by it to have written to Perry White with the personal recommendation which had secured him the interview he'd been due to have in a couple of days' time. Professor Carlton's letter, a copy of which he'd sent to Clark, had left him blushing. But was his work good enough to impress Perry White? Especially as he was coming in with Lois Lane, the winner of three Kerth awards. Lois Lane... Clark sneaked a quick peek at her. She was staring straight ahead, apparently ignoring him. It seemed that once he'd agreed to her plan, he'd become almost irrelevant... which made him just a little suspicious of her motives. He'd have to watch her very carefully, he thought. She struck him as the ruthless type... He couldn't wait to see what she looked like without the disguise, all the same. Her present appearance didn't give a lot away; medium height for a woman, and probably of slender build. Her hair was clearly dark, although most of it was hidden under that awful woollen hat she was wearing. Most of her face was hidden, either by the hat or the wispy beard. Her voice had changed almost as soon as he'd figured it out; the gruffness was gone, and in its place was a more feminine tone. She had a tendency to speak quickly, impatiently, as if she hated being kept waiting and suffered fools badly. All the same... he liked her voice. It sounded attractive. *She* sounded attractive. And he was going to get to work with her! ******* She locked him in her living-room. Triple- locked her front door and removed the key from the chain. She didn't want Clark Kent in her apartment, but it would be a cold day in hell before she'd allow another ambitious man to steal her story. Making him wait outside was simply not an option. So she locked him in. And then, because she didn't trust him that way either, she locked the door leading to her bedroom. Just because Clark Kent was about the most attractive man she'd met in months - no, *years* - meant absolutely nothing. Men were all the same; they'd smile sweetly while stabbing you in the back. And the good-looking ones were the worst, she reminded herself. No matter how naive this one seemed, he was just like all the others: he couldn't be trusted. It would be foolish to allow herself to feel guilty. Pushing Clark Kent from her mind, Lois began to undress. It was sheer bliss to unwind the binding from her breasts. Lois felt her entire body relax and her muscles unstiffen as the constricting fabric was removed. And she wouldn't have to put it on again - she'd got the story. Well, as long as Clark Kent continued to believe her and Perry took her advice. But that should be a piece of cake. After all, Kent was new in the big city. He was pretty gullible, she was sure about that - though not sure enough that she was willing to trust him not to abscond with her story. And Perry understood the value of an exclusive well enough to be sensible about it. In a couple of hours, Kent would be heading back to the cornfields of Kansas or Ohio or wherever it was he came from, his tail between his legs. And she would have another award-winner on her hands. She smiled in anticipation as she padded into the shower. ******** Clark paced the length of Lois's living-room once more, now beginning to have even more serious doubts about his new acquaintance's motives. She obviously didn't trust him - well, she'd made that clear immediately after she'd suggested that they join forces. She'd also, of course, warned him that he shouldn't trust her either... and he hadn't heeded that warning. Maybe he should have. Maybe he shouldn't have agreed to her proposal. After all, she'd *locked him in*! Confined him to the living-room of her apartment like some sort of prisoner. Clearly, she didn't trust him not to go back on their agreement. He grimaced as he remembered his own entirely trusting behaviour at the Apollo Hotel. She couldn't even show him the same courtesy. What kind of woman was Lois Lane, reporter? He heard a click, and in the next moment the bedroom door opened. Lois emerged, and Clark could almost feel his jaw hit the floor. Lois Lane was beautiful. He'd been right about her slender figure, but he hadn't realised just how... *shapely* she was. In the flattering dark suit she was wearing, its severity lightened by the dark flower-print blouse, she looked the consummate professional, and at the same time incredibly attractive. Her hair, freed from the dirty woollen hat, swung free to her shoulders in a soft bob, swinging gently from side to side as she moved. She wore make- up too, enhancing her femininity even more. How had this woman managed to persuade anyone that she was a man? He forgot all his caution about trusting her, and smiled in her direction. "Wow. I can't believe you're the same person as Larry Long!" She shrugged. "All part of the job. The whole point of a disguise is to be convincing, isn't it?" "Sure, but disguising yourself as a guy...?" Clark shook his head. At Lois's frown, he added quickly, "All I meant was... well, you sure don't look anything like a guy now." The sharp tilt of one eyebrow was the only response Clark got to his complimentary observation. Lois walked past him towards the door. "Come on. There's a cab waiting downstairs." Hurriedly, he followed her. ******** Arriving at the Planet, Lois escorted Kent upstairs as quickly as she could; she wanted him dealt with and gone as soon as possible. She took him to her desk, inviting him to have a seat. The newsroom was almost empty, as she'd have expected for that time in the morning; it was a little after six. But Perry was in his office, as usual. "I need to talk to Perry," she explained. "I'll explain the situation, and then he'll talk to you. Okay?" she added, trying to make her tone sound less brusque. She didn't want him to guess what she was up to! Kent nodded. "You'll need my portfolio, I guess?" Oh, he really was wet behind the ears! Lois could barely believe that Kent was willing to trust a complete stranger with his material. Guilt at taking advantage of him again began to hit her, but she forcibly ignored it. If he really was that innocent, he was about to learn a much-needed lesson. In fact, she really was doing him a favour here. Tough love, it was called; wasn't it? "Just your notes for the car-theft story," she said, almost holding her breath in hope that he would agree. "Sure!" he said, handing them over with a big smile. What an innocent! It really was like taking candy from a baby, Lois thought with a cynical curl of her lip as she spun on her heel and headed for Perry's office. It was almost too easy. Within twenty minutes, Kent would be on his way back to the boondocks - and she would have her exclusive. ******** Left sitting alone at Lois's desk, Clark allowed himself at last to soak in the newsroom atmosphere. He'd been too anxious not to show himself up as an overawed newbie when Lois had escorted him in; now that her critical gaze was no longer on him, he could look his fill. This was the *Daily Planet*, he told himself incredulously. The best newspaper in the world, Professor Carlton had always said. Even, in Carlton's view, better than the Washington Post - and he would know. And edited by Perry White, one of the very best editors around. And, sure, he had an interview with Mr White lined up for the very next day, but this - coming in with an exclusive and with an introduction from none other than Lois Lane - surely had to be a far better way of persuading the editor that he was worth a chance. As long as he could trust Lois Lane to present his case fairly... And there was the one fly in the ointment, Clark mused thoughtfully. Ms Lane herself. Leaving aside any consideration of how attractive she was - and he still hadn't got over seeing her for the first time dressed as herself - he wasn't sure he could trust her. She was clearly a very clever woman, and he hadn't been able to get rid of the nagging suspicion that she was playing him like a violin. She'd been extremely hostile when she'd realised that he was a reporter too, and after the same story as she was. She'd asserted her right to *her* exclusive, and when he hadn't backed down she'd made certain that she got access to every scrap of information that he did. Her manner had been brusque - when she'd deigned to notice him at all. And then suddenly she'd changed, smiling at him, calling him `Clark' instead of `Kent' or nothing at all, and she'd invited him for coffee and actually offered him the chance of getting his story in the Daily Planet. Why hadn't that volte-face made him suspicious? Because he'd been over-awed by her, he accepted wryly. And attracted to her. And probably hero- worshipping her too. He'd swallowed her promises like a complete innocent. He was an idiot, he told himself swiftly. After all, once he'd agreed to her plan she'd turned abrupt again. At her apartment, she'd actually locked him in! He still couldn't believe she'd done that. And she'd barely spoken to him once they'd got in the cab to go to the newsroom. Of *course* she was planning to double-cross him! The only question was... how? His lips thinning into a fine line, Clark engaged his acute hearing. "...it's simple, Perry. You just tell the greenhorn we'll buy his story, write him a cheque for a couple of hundred bucks, and then trash it once he's out of here. That way we have a guaranteed exclusive!" "Now, Lois, you know I don't like that sort of unethical behaviour..." "Yeah, but do you like losing an exclusive any better?" He'd heard enough. Furious, Clark got to his feet and walked straight to the editor's office, walking in without knocking. "I've changed my mind," he said coolly. "I'd like my story back, please." ******** As the door crashed open and Kent made his demand, Lois groaned inwardly. She'd been so close! Perry had been just about to agree to her suggestion, she knew it. And now the greenhorn had changed his mind! Why, she had no idea. She'd thought she had him convinced, eating out of her hand like the naive country boy that he was. Perry would be furious at his barging in like that, though. That would work in her favour. And there was no way, anyway, that the Chief would casually allow a Planet exclusive to go somewhere else. He'd talk Kent around. She smiled tautly and turned to the editor. He was looking at Kent, as she would have expected. "Kent, I presume?" he enquired, his tone unreadable. "Yes; Clark Kent." The greenhorn held out his hand. Perry accepted it, much to Lois's surprise. "Now, where have I heard that name before?" the editor wondered aloud. Lois blinked. He'd actually *heard* of Kent? Had the man actually had anything *decent* printed? But that couldn't be - he wouldn't be unemployed and desperate to get a job if that were the case. "Professor Carlton wrote to you about me," Kent was explaining. "I have an interview scheduled with you for tomorrow." "So you do," Perry said thoughtfully. "Now, why in tarnation didn't you mention this to me, Lois?" Lois muttered silently, fuming. Perry ignored her, however, and turned back to Kent. "So you're Carlton's protege, huh?" "Who's Carlton?" Lois demanded, interrupting before Kent could answer. Things were moving swiftly out of her control, and she hated not being in control of things. She hated not being in the know, too. "We were at journalism school together," Perry explained. "And `bout eight years ago he retired early and went to teach journalism at Midwest State U, after ten years editing the Washington Post." Lois could feel her jaw dropping. "*That* Carlton? Charles Carlton?" "Chuck Carlton, yeah." Perry gave her a knowing look; oh, he knew just how chagrined she was feeling, she could tell! Kent was the protege of the former editor of the *Washington Post*?! Why hadn't she known that? Why hadn't he told her? He'd made a fool of her! He'd let her come all the way here, let her make her pitch to Perry, and all along he'd known that once Perry realised who he was, it'd... It'd what? She was being stupid - rushing to conclusions without analysing the facts. The fact of Kent's mentor meant nothing, of course it didn't! Perry would still want to protect the Planet's exclusive. Which probably meant that he'd give Kent an interview, for form's sake and because he'd already promised the greenhorn one. And then he'd shake the guy's hand and tell him that there simply wasn't a position available. Of course he would! After all, he'd only just turned down her request for a raise because, he'd said, there was no money available. So there was no way that Kent would be getting anything but an escort to the door. "So this is your story?" Perry was asking, gesturing to the sheaf of papers Lois was still holding. "Yes," Kent said, his voice displaying a note of pride that she hadn't heard from him before. Perry held out his hand towards Lois. She frowned, realising that he actually wanted to look at the country boy's notes. What was he thinking? Reluctantly, she handed it over. The editor scanned the papers in silence for a few moments, his face expressionless. Then he paused, glancing from the sheets in his hand to Kent, then to Lois and then back again. Then, to her amazement, he began to read aloud. "It's not difficult to see why these people live a life of crime. Qualms of conscience aside, it does have distinct advantages. These guys are, for the most part, poorly educated and without good connections. The best they could hope for is some sort of unskilled or semi-skilled employment at low rates of pay. Compare a week's take-home pay from waiting tables, maybe $120 a week, or from working on a construction site or even driving a cab, where you might bring home around $200 a week, with earnings of around $500 a week stealing cars. And there's no taxes to pay on that, either. The economic motivation for turning their back on legitimate employment is clear. "And when even the most sophisticated car alarms and immobilisers can't keep out determined, professional thieves like these, it's not difficult work. Careful planning means that the chances of getting caught seem to be minimal. So where's the deterrent?" Perry raised his head and looked enquiringly at Lois. He liked it, she could tell. She gave him a sour look. "If you printed that, our readers - and the shareholders! - would say that we're encouraging crime," she observed scathingly. "Hardly, since the thieves got caught," Perry pointed out dryly; Lois shot him a fierce look. What the heck did he think he was doing?! "My point exactly, Mr White," Kent interrupted. "That's exactly how I was planning on finishing the article - pointing out that, in the end, crime doesn't pay. Criminals do get caught. Those guys are all going to jail - there's the deterrent." Perry nodded as Lois watched incredulously. Okay, Kent's writing was halfway decent, she acknowledged grudgingly. If you liked that kind of thing - touchy-feely human interaction stuff, finding explanations for things, as opposed to hard news and analysis. A lot better than she'd expected - but then, he was *Carlton's* protege and that had to say something about his ability. She should have expected that, once she'd realised who had recommended him. But Perry wasn't seriously thinking of buying the story, was he? "You wanted to work for the Daily Planet, Kent?" Perry asked. "It's been my ambition ever since I was at college," Kent replied, and Lois gritted her teeth. Didn't Perry realise he was being toadied to? "Well, you've got yourself a job," the editor drawled, extending his hand. "Welcome to the Daily Planet, Clark Kent." As Kent shook Perry's hand, clearly delighted, Lois stared at the two of them, in shock. Perry had actually *hired* him? When he'd told her, only the previous day, that he couldn't afford to give her a raise? It was a disgrace! No, it was worse than that, she realised with a dawning sense of outrage. It was an insult! *She* had been working on the car theft story for the Planet - and now Perry had hired this wet-behind-the-ears, fresh up from the country newbie on the back of his work on *her* exclusive? "We'll print this piece as part of the series," Perry was adding, and Lois realised that things were getting worse still. The editor was actually planning to *print* Kent's story! "It'll be a great complement to Lois's more factual account of working inside the gang - I like what you've been sending me, Lois," he added, and she felt that his compliment was an afterthought. "Now, you've both got some work to do on your pieces," Perry added briskly. "Kent, I take it that one of your pseudonymous characters is Lois? You'll have to remove any references to her. And Lois, you need to do likewise in respect of Kent here. I want those pieces finished by the deadline for the morning issue. But first, I need the big news story - the arrests. And I want that for the afternoon edition, so you need to get working!" "I'm on it!" Lois declared, heading for the door. She'd get her front-page story at least, even if she did have to put up with the humiliation of Perry hiring the Kansas hick against her recommendation. "I meant *both* of you." Perry's dry remark made Lois stop in her tracks. "This story belongs to both of you - and I like Clark's style, Lois. I think together you could be a great writing team, and I want you to try it." As Lois stared at him in sheer disbelief, Perry waved his hand impatiently at her. "So what are you waiting for? Git! And get me a story by deadline!" ********* Clark could barely believe it. He was in! He had a job at the Daily Planet! And, even better, Perry White himself had actually said that he liked his work! And he was being partnered with Lois Lane, whose work he genuinely admired and had for some time, even if the reality of Lois herself had turned out to be something of a disappointment. He hadn't expected her to be as rude or unfriendly as this - which was even more disappointing given that he found her so attractive. Well, anything of that nature was clearly out of the question. Even if she could ever get over her obvious dislike and resentment of him, he wasn't sure that he'd want to date a woman who was so unpleasant. A woman who had actually tried to cut him out of a story in about the most despicable way he'd ever seen. And who had made clear her contempt for him, even after it was clear that her editor didn't agree with her. No; he couldn't possibly be interested in a woman like that. Even if she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met in his life... even if he'd never before felt this kind of reaction to *anyone*. Lois Lane and Clark Kent would be writing the big story on the capture of the gang of car thieves - a story which would no doubt be on the front page of the paper. He could see the byline now. Clark Kent and Lois Lane, in alphabetical order. Although, given that Lois had been at the Planet a lot longer, she'd probably want her name first. In fact, given her reaction to his appointment at the Planet, he could consider it a certainty that she'd want her name first. But he could go along with that. Simply getting his name on a byline in this paper was a dream come true. And that, of course, was the one fly in the ointment about his new job. Lois Lane herself was not at all pleased at his new status. Even if he hadn't overheard what she'd been saying to Perry White, it would've been obvious from the sour looks and furious grimaces on her face while they'd been in the editor's office. If looks could kill, he'd be an obelisk by now. Her irate words, muttered under her breath but clearly audible to Clark, made him wince further. "What is Perry *thinking* of?! Hiring a rookie! And making *me* work with him on *my* story? I should just refuse to do it - I should quit... see if Perry likes *that*! See if he prefers Kent to a three-times Kerth winner!" This was going to be an interesting working relationship, he could tell. Oh, boy. ******** Right; she'd start as she meant to go on. Show Kent who was boss. This was *her* story, and he'd just been lucky enough to stumble onto it, after all - and to talk his way into a job at the Planet. He'd got a job, on a reporter's salary even if it was probably going to be on the probationer's scale, right when Perry had turned *her* down for a raise. She wasn't finished with Perry about that either. Well, no country hick straight out of the Mid- West was going to be a match for Lois Lane. "Okay, Kent, why don't you find yourself a desk and finish up your story?" she said coolly. "I'll get to work on the arrests." "Didn't Mr White want us to work on that together?" Kent objected, not moving from his position beside her desk. So he wasn't going to be as easy as she'd hoped. Gritting her teeth, Lois replied, "It'll be quicker if I do it on my own. This is the kind of thing I've won awards for, as people around here know. And I do have a tape- recording of the interview with Fernandez, remember." In other words, she said silently, butt out and let her get on with *her* job. "Ms Lane," Kent said, in an irritatingly calm voice. "I think you might find that I'll be more help than you seem to imagine. Now, how about we get the facts sorted out first, and then decide how to present the story?" In other words, Lois understood, Kent didn't intend to be pushed around. She sighed in frustration. It looked as if she was stuck with the guy... for now, anyway. And his proposal was exactly how Lois would have approached the story. So, just to be perverse and to show him who was in charge, she waved a careless hand in his direction. "The facts are obvious. We'll start by working out the structure." Kent shrugged, pulling a chair up to sit beside her - too close for Lois's comfort. The man was just too darned good-looking for her peace of mind. "Whatever you prefer. You are the award- winning reporter in this partnership, after all. I'm looking forward to learning from the expert." Did she detect a note of humouring her, or even of patronage, in his tone? Lois gave him a sharp look, but his expression was bland. "Let's just get started," she said curtly. ******** "LUXURY CAR THIEVES CRASH AND BURN Gang Under Arrest by Lois Lane and Clark Kent" "Oh, that's wonderful, Clark! Congratulations!" Clark grinned happily over the top of the newspaper he was holding aloft, the thrill of seeing his name on a front-page byline in the Daily Planet still as great as it had been three hours earlier when he'd first held the paper in his hands. His name on the front page. It was such an incredible thrill; a dream come true. Not that he should start getting used to it; he'd struck lucky this time and he couldn't count on it happening again. But still... it felt so amazingly good. He hadn't been able to resist showing it off to his parents, so just as soon as he'd been able to get away from the newsroom he'd found a quiet back alley and launched himself into the air, arriving in Smallville a few minutes later. He hadn't even had time that day to call his folks and tell them that he had a job, he'd been kept so busy by his new partner, so the front page was even more of a surprise for them. "When did this happen? You smashed that theft ring?" "And who's Lois Lane? Is she nice?" His mom's question made Clark wince slightly. A full day spent with Lois Lane hadn't changed his mind on any of three things: one, she was utterly gorgeous and he was very attracted to her; two, she was a brilliant journalist, with great writing skills and a talent for putting information together which made him breathless with admiration; three, she was one of the rudest, most cold people he'd ever met. And, of course, there was that little matter of her trying to cheat him out of his story. He settled for saying, "She's a great journalist, Mom. It was a privilege to be working with her today. I've learned a lot." And he had. Oh, he wasn't bad himself; he knew that. But the single-minded way Lois approached her work, the way she used her sources, her talent for phrasing things for maximum impact, had all made an impression on him. He'd had some impact on their joint story - more than she'd expected, he was sure. She'd been prepared to reject any and all of his suggestions, but more than a few times she'd hesitated, looked thoughtful, then made the change or addition he'd proposed, sometimes with a minor amendment of her own. "You're a great journalist yourself, Clark," Martha said proudly. "Don't underestimate yourself." "Yeah," his father added supportively. "And I hope this Lois appreciates your talents." Clark thought in wry amusement. But she would, he thought. He intended to make sure of it. He knew only too well that he'd never survive working with her otherwise! ******** What was she going to do about Clark Kent? Lois lay awake that night, conflicting thoughts running through her mind. On the one hand, it was definitely a relief to know that Charlie, who she'd liked very much against her best judgement, wasn't a criminal. And he cleaned up *very* nicely. He was one of the most attractive men she'd ever met. Was he attracted to her? She wasn't sure. He had eyed her up - stared at her, in fact - when she'd emerged from her bedroom in her normal work-garb and with her hair swinging free in its usual bob. But his reaction could just have been surprise at the sharp contrast in her appearance. But he was also a reporter, and competition. Despite her best efforts, he was now working at the Planet, and if she wasn't careful, for all she knew history could repeat itself. She was *never* again going to get involved with anyone she worked with. And she had no intention of giving any other man the chance to advance his career at her expense. She would be as ruthless in protecting her own interests as she had to be. As she already had. Later that afternoon, their story written, she'd marched into Perry's office, closing the door firmly behind her. The editor had looked up and given her a long- suffering look, putting his pencil down. "Well, Lois? I'm guessing that this is about Kent." "You bet it is, Chief! What were you thinking of?!" "Now, Lois - " "I mean," she'd continued, ignoring Perry's interruption, "first he steals *my* story, and then he comes strolling in here as if he was somebody! And you *hire* him, when only yesterday you turned down my request for a raise! And, to add insult to injury, I have to work with him!" "Lois!" Perry's voice had been sharper then. "Now, honey, I know you're all bent out of shape because I didn't take your advice about Kent. But he's a good reporter. Once you get over this, you'll see that yourself. And I know you're the best this paper has, but it don't hurt to have another couple of reporters capable of bringing in the awards. Which Kent is, in my opinion. So give him a chance, okay?" Give him a chance? She'd been furious when Perry had said that - but she'd known better than to let it show. The Chief clearly wanted Kent on board. He liked Kent's writing. That wasn't good - but there was no way that she intended to show that she felt threatened by it. Perry expected her to be professional about it, and she would. After all, it would probably be better to bide her time anyway, and see just how Kent turned out. "Okay, okay," she'd conceded. "But what about my raise?" "What about it, Lois?" he'd countered. "You'll get your raise next year, along with everyone else. And you know you only had a bonus two months ago when you were nominated for the Merriwethers again. Get yourself nominated for a Kerth this autumn and you'll get another. You know how it works!" She'd shrugged. She deserved a raise; she knew she did. She'd brought in a number of scoops over the past few months, and the Planet's sales had shown a significant increase as a result. They *owed* her that raise. And instead, Perry had hired an irritating male reporter, and made her work with him. And, to make matters worse, Perry had ended the interview by observing that he thought that Lois had crossed over the line in recommending that he buy Kent's article just to spike it. That, he'd said, wasn't the way the Daily Planet operated. The Planet was an ethical newspaper, and that applied to its employment polices as much as anything else. So she'd left the room feeling unfairly chastened as well as infuriated at having to work with the new hire. Kent wasn't a bad writer. In fact, she reluctantly conceded, he was good. He had talent. Which made him both safe and, perversely, even more of a challenge. He was safe because he wouldn't need to steal her writing as Claude had - although that didn't mean that he wouldn't muscle in on her leads and investigations if he could. But he was a challenge in that she was currently indisputably the Planet's best investigative reporter, which made her the best investigative journalist in Metropolis. Was Kent good enough to be... *better* than she was? She'd fought a lot of battles to get to where she was, and she wanted to stay there. So if Kent thought he was going to walk into all the plum assignments, he had another think coming! So her first move had to be to ensure that he worked on his own, not with her. Okay, it had made sense that they should work together that day. After all, no matter what her views were on the matter, they had both been involved in the car theft investigation. But that was it. They weren't partners. Perry knew that she preferred to work alone, and he respected her enough to accept that. Kent, however much potential he seemed to have, was still not much more than a rookie, and he'd have to work his way up just like everyone else. One lucky break didn't give him the right to come in at the top. And when she'd actually given him the lucky break he'd got, it was doubly infuriating. If she hadn't suggested that he take his story to the Planet... Although, she reminded herself, that probably wouldn't have made any difference. He'd had an interview lined up with Perry for tomorrow in any case. She'd only had herself to blame for this morning's debacle, though, she admitted with a sigh. Perry had been right. She'd behaved disgracefully, and she knew it. Kent was a journalist, just as she was. And, okay, she'd always - or at least, since Claude - lived by the motto that all was fair in love and journalism, but still... She'd stepped over the line between fair competition and downright cheating. If Lucy were here - her sister, who'd been staying with Lois for the past couple of months, was visiting friends in California - she would have looked at Lois in that way she had; not saying anything, but indicating by the tilt of her head and the questioning lift of her eyebrows that she thought her sister had been unkind. Not that kindness had anything to do with journalism! Or making your way in any career. It was always twice as hard for a woman than for a man. Lucy hadn't learned that lesson yet - she still hadn't graduated from college, and since she seemed to be heading close to dropping out for a second time, it would probably be a while before she'd get even close to starting a career instead of wasting her time in dead-end jobs. What did she know about having to compete with ambitious, arrogant males? Lois sighed. Perry was right. Lucy would have been right. She'd behaved badly - almost as badly as Claude, although she hadn't tried to steal Kent's story for her own. She'd just tried to get Perry to spike it - but she'd done it by pretending to be Kent's friend, pretending that she was going to help him. That wasn't ethical behaviour, no matter what she told herself about all tactics being fair in the fight to get the story. What Claude did to her hadn't been fair. And nor had what she'd almost done to Kent. She'd been in the wrong. And having to admit that to herself was far more painful than having Perry - the man she'd long thought of as the father figure she'd needed all her life - be disappointed in her. What she'd done had been wrong. Even still... That didn't mean that she had to *like* Kent, or even agree to work with him. From tomorrow, she need have nothing to do with Clark Kent. It was just a shame that he was so good- looking... ********* Over the next couple of days, Clark didn't actually see a lot of Lois. He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed about that fact. Being partnered with her seemed to have been a temporary thing, only for the purpose of that one story. The following morning when he'd arrived for work, Perry White had assigned him to covering the razing of an old theatre, the Sarah Bernhardt on Forty- Second. Lois had been nowhere in sight, and he'd heard Jimmy Olsen say later that day that she was out covering the as-yet-unexplained explosion of the Messenger space shuttle. Not that he'd minded not being involved in the big story of the week; he'd enjoyed his assignment, especially when he'd turned up and met the coterie of retired actors and others who were protesting against the demolition of the theatre. After a short conversation with one of them, he hadn't been able to resist a little demolition work of his own on the wrecking ball. And then, when a couple of the actors had staged an impromptu performance inside on the stage, he'd had an idea. Returning to the Planet, he'd written his article. Perry had made it clear that he wanted a mood piece, and that was what Clark had given him, in spades. He'd focused on the actress he'd first spoken to, Beatrice, and her career which had revolved around the Sarah Bernhardt Theatre. He'd shown that a huge part of her past was being ripped away by the demolition of that building. "... she came to say goodbye," his article had concluded. "Goodbye to a young girl in a gossamer dress, goodbye to the players, long dead, to the spirit of the theatre, so strong that nothing, not even the wrecking ball, could destroy it. She came to say goodbye, as we all must, to the past, and to a life and a place that soon would exist only in a bittersweet memory." And, in a brief coda, he'd added, "Unless, that is, we as a city, as a *community*, revise our priorities and reconsider what's important. A parking garage, offering convenience for drivers and more dollars for its owners, or a theatre, offering pleasure and culture to thousands, including our children and future generations? I know which I'd vote for." The article had made its way into the afternoon edition; to his surprise, Perry had placed it on the front page. So much for his conviction that he couldn't expect page one bylines as a regular occurrence and that it would probably be weeks, if not months, before it happened again. Even better, Perry had added a phone poll, encouraging readers to call in and give their views... and he'd called up an influential friend of his on the city council and persuaded him to halt the theatre demolition until the results of the poll, and then get the council to reconsider allowing the construction of the parking garage to continue. The councillor had agreed - in Clark's opinion, that had been more from concern for his re- election in a couple of months' time than simply doing Perry White a favour. And it had worked: the cause had caught the attention of a couple of TV news editors and had been taken up, covered in the section of news bulletins reserved for quirky and human interest stories. By the following morning, Clark's final paragraph had been repeated so often that he was sick of hearing it... but the theatre had been reprieved, saved not only by the city council's reaction to public opinion, but also by several local businesses and philanthropists donating money to a hastily- opened Save the Sarah Bernhardt campaign fund. The theatre would re-open, and Clark couldn't help hoping that the first play to be performed there would be Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard. He'd certainly be first in the queue for tickets - and he'd ensure, somehow, that Beatrice got the best seat in the house. Lois's only comment, when she'd passed by Clark on her way out of the newsroom, had been a cynical, "Quite a crusader, aren't you, Kent? You know it'll only happen again in five years or so, when everyone's forgotten this, don't you? Commercial interests always win in the end." "Only if we let them, Lois... only if we let them," he'd said firmly in response; her taken- aback expression had shown him that she hadn't expected him to disagree with her. Well, if catching Lois Lane off-balance would help to show her that he didn't intend to be walked all over by her, he'd decided that he'd just have to keep on doing it. ******** "Whoa, Lois, you look like you're on caffeine withdrawal!" Jimmy hurried away before Lois could retaliate, and she gave his departing back a sour look before redirecting her path to the coffee area instead of her desk. It probably wasn't too surprising that she didn't look her best this morning. She had pulled an all-nighter, after all - though that wasn't unusual for her. The events of this morning, however, weren't that common, and she was still brooding