Blind Spots
by Gerry Anklewicz <<gankle@rogers.com>>
Rated: PG
Submitted: April 2004


This fanfic took a long time to get to the boards. Many times, 
I felt that it would never see the outside of my computer hard-
drive. I'd like to thank ML Thompson, Jude Williams and CCMalo 
for their cajoling and nagging, as well as their beta-reading. 
You had more confidence in me than I did. Thank you. Thank you 
also to my GE, Wendy Richards for her help in finding all the 
little errors that the others missed. 

I'd also like to thank the readers on both message boards who 
commented so positively about the story. You let me know that I 
had accomplished what I set out to do. 

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. I recognize 
that the characters are not mine. I am just borrowing them for 
a little fun and not for any profit. 

Blind Spots 

Clark squirmed inside, knowing that Mayson was looking him up 
and down, staring at his bare chest. When he heard the 
knocking, he had been so intent on looking at the police 
uniform and hoping to try it on, that he'd rushed to the door, 
barely remembering to put on his glasses. He hadn't expected 
Mayson; actually, he hadn't expected anyone. 

He really couldn't figure Mayson out. She was a good-looking 
woman, a very good- looking woman, and he knew from their first 
meeting in the police station a few days before that she was 
interested in him. Looking at her, he'd probably be interested 
in her too except for two very important facts. First, he was 
in love with Lois Lane, and second, Mayson really didn't like 
Superman. Now, if he told Mayson that he was Superman, she'd 
probably slap him and never speak to him again. If he told Lois 
he was Superman, she'd probably gush and fall all over him, and 
then slap him and never speak to him again. 

Why did Mayson hate Superman so much? Just that morning in 
front of the courthouse, she had spoken to him in a brusque but 
business-like manner, not disguising her feelings about him. 
"Thanks for the statement. We'll be in touch if we need you." 

Clark hadn't seen her like that before. Her flirtatious 
approach with the reporter made her icy attitude toward 
Superman so puzzling. Trying to be helpful, he had said, "I 
just want you to know, Ms. Drake, whatever I can do to help the 
DA's office..." 

But she had brushed him off, something that Superman wasn't 
really used to. "Like I said, we'll be in touch." 

But he understood his responsibilities. "I'd be more than 
willing to testify against Baby Rage." 

"I don't think so." 

Puzzled, he had decided to ask Mayson directly. "Ms. Drake, 
have I done something to offend you?" 

"No, but I have to admit, I've never much liked the idea of 
you." 

Clark could honestly say that he had been taken aback. "I don't 
follow..." 

"Do you have a license to chase criminals?" But before he could 
answer, she plowed on. "Do you ever read them their rights? Are 
you insured if you hurt someone? You know how much paperwork 
you make for my office? And where am I supposed to get hold of 
you to come in for depositions? Where do you live? Do you work? 
Who are you?" 

Clark, who had kept opening his mouth trying to answer the 
flood of questions, finally gave up and simply said, "I can't 
tell you that..." 

"Exactly. You see, I hate secrets. And mystery men scare me 
almost as much as they bore me." 

Mystery man, he thought. She should only know. 

Even when she was confronted with Lois's obvious idolization of 
Superman, Mayson carried on. He had overheard her comment about 
his height. She had thought he would've been taller. When he 
had approached Mayson and Lois as Clark, Mayson stared at him 
longingly with her big blue eyes making him feel as if she 
could have drained the essence out of him. Then, as they talked 
about their suspicions of Intergang, Mayson had made sure that 
she was beside Clark and Lois was not. 

And now, Mayson was at his apartment staring at him sensually. 
He could feel the heat emanating from her eyes, and he realized 
that he wasn't totally immune to it. 

"Hi, I...was in the neighborhood and... thought we might go 
over some facts," she said as she crossed over the threshold 
into his apartment. 

"Sure, come on in." Clark led her into the living room. He felt 
her look around the room taking it in. He moved, he hoped not 
too quickly or too obviously, to the box on his coffee table 
and put the cover back on. 

"Let me just get a shirt on..." he said, not feeling 
comfortable standing there in his shorts. The morning Lois had 
come to get him in his hotel room, when he was wearing just a 
towel, came back to him. The present feeling of discomfort, 
being half-dressed in front of Mayson, hadn't been there with 
Lois. He had enjoyed her off-handed slip--"I thought you'd be 
naked." Then, even though he had felt her eyes following him 
into the other room, he'd also felt that she was nonchalant 
about the whole thing. He hadn't felt that she was eating him 
up alive with her eyes. He told himself that he was being silly 
about Mayson's gaze. He was a lot more exposed as Superman. 

Mayson said, "No. I mean, not if it'd make you 
uncomfortable...it is sort of warm in here." To confirm her 
statement she took off her jacket, leaving her in a black silk 
camisole. "Isn't it? Yeah...mmm...hmm...definitely...this is 
much better." 

Clark looked at her, not sure what to think. He led her over to 
the couch where she took out her note pad, ready to work. Still 
feeling underdressed, Clark went into his bedroom and put on a 
t-shirt. Then he was ready to sit down with Mayson. 

When she finished taking his deposition a half an hour later, 
they were comfortably sitting in his living room, drinking tea 
and talking. Mayson looked over her notes and said, "You're 
going to make a great witness and I appreciate it. In my line 
of work, you don't see much bravery." 

Clark was surprised. "I'm just telling the truth," he said, 
thinking that would be what his parents would expect of him, 
what he would expect of himself. "Nothing too brave about 
that..." 

"Well, true, you're not flying around with a big 'S' on your 
chest, bragging about what a hero you are..." 

Mayson's statement disturbed Clark. He didn't think that he was 
bragging about his exploits. He didn't think that he stuck 
around long enough to brag. When he did talk to the press, he 
just gave the facts as he saw them, trying to give credit to 
those around him. 

"You heard Superman brag?" he asked. 

"Not in so many words..." She began to put the papers back into 
her briefcase. "Look, I know he's a friend of yours," she said 
apologetically, "but you're ten times the man he is. An 
ordinary guy, about to stand up to what might be the biggest 
criminal organization in the world. That takes guts. I'd like 
to see Superman try that without his cape." 

"Well, maybe you will," Clark said, wondering about the many 
ironies of his life. He watched as Mayson put on her jacket. 
Lois, not too long ago, had told Superman that she would marry 
him even if he were an ordinary man, but she had turned down 
Clark's overtures. Mayson seemed to be interested in Clark 
simply because he was an ordinary guy. Ironies! 

What didn't make sense to him was why Mayson felt so hostile 
about Superman. What had he done to make her feel that way? It 
wasn't just that he was a mystery. He'd proven over the year 
that Superman had been in Metropolis that, even though he 
didn't have a job, he was dependable and honest. Why would she 
be so antagonistic towards him? Here was his chance to find 
out, and he decided that he would take it. 

"Mayson, I don't get it. What do you have against Superman?" 

"Let's see? Where should I begin?" she started sarcastically 
and she began to rhyme off the litany of errors which he'd 
heard earlier that day. 

"That's a lot, Mayson, but I wonder if that's really why you're 
so hostile toward him? All of those concerns can be addressed, 
even the amount of paperwork he creates. No other assistant DA, 
or even the DA himself, has ever complained about what you've 
mentioned. So why the aversion?" 

Mayson got up from the couch and walked toward the bookcase, 
examining Clark's books. 

"People begin to depend on him. He gives them false hope," she 
said quietly, "but he can't do everything he says he can. He's 
not always there when you need him." 

"He's only one man," Clark said, echoing his parents' words, 
Lois's words, even his own thoughts. He had enough trouble 
believing them himself. He resented Mayson a bit for reminding 
him of his limitations. Walking toward her, he stayed only an 
arm's distance away. 

Mayson lingered over the books. She pulled out a volume of 
Emily Dickinson. "This was my mother's favourite. She used to 
read it whenever she felt frustrated or stressed. She said the 
words, although discouraging, really were uplifting. The poetry 
and imagery were so rich." 

Suddenly, she faced him. "He just wasn't there when he was 
really needed. He wasn't there when I really needed him." 
Turning away from Clark, she placed the book back on the shelf. 
"He showed up for a number of weeks, he saved the space 
shuttle, he stopped car accidents, stopped robberies. He 
stopped people jumping off tall buildings. The man even saved 
stupid kittens who managed to climb up trees. "And then - " She 
sniffed. "And then when I needed him the most, he just 
disappeared. Three days without Superman. Three days." She 
cleared her throat and looked back at Clark. "What good is he, 
if he's not around at the most important time?" 

Clark took Mayson's hand and led her back to the couch. He sat 
her down and poured her another cup of tea. "Tell me what 
happened, Mayson," he prodded gently. 

"It was my parents' thirtieth-fifth anniversary...my brother's 
birthday, too. We celebrated Tom's birthday and my parents' 
anniversary at the same time. We went to L'Auberge Gavrouche 
for dinner and then Janice, my sister-in-law, and I planned to 
go back to the house for cake. But I didn't...and then...and 
Superman wasn't there..." Mayson gasped for air, trying to stop 
the tears. 

Clark put his arm around Mayson. "Slowly, Mayson, you don't 
have to get it all out at once." 

"We'd begun the evening," Mayson continued once she caught her 
breath, "over at my parents' house in Castlewood Park. My 
parents had put their wedding movies on video and thought that 
before we went for dinner we would all watch them. They were a 
hoot! We rolled on the floor laughing about the bridesmaids' 
dresses, the men's haircuts and the women's hairdos." 

Clark looked at her questioningly. 

She shrugged. "It was the sixties! The evening was shaping up 
to be a fun one. Whenever all of us got together, we had a good 
time. 

"After dinner, we headed back to the house." Mayson picked at 
an invisible thread on her skirt. "Just before I got there, my 
pager went off. The office. Bill Church, my boss then, wanted 
me to come over and help him appease some client in Australia 
who was giving him a hard time. I explained that I was in the 
middle of this family celebration, but he just pleaded that 
this guy wouldn't listen to him, he had to listen to a lawyer, 
and since he'd dealt with me before, Bill felt that I was the 
person to speak to him. I promised my parents that I'd be back 
as soon as I could. I got into my car and headed for Bill's 
condo." She shook her head. "I shouldn't have left them," she 
whispered. 

"What happened next?" 

"I managed to calm the client down. He just needed to hear 
about the legal details of the particular acquisition from a 
lawyer. Unfortunately, it took quite a while. By the time we 
were finished it was one in the morning. Bill was in the living 
room, flipping channels, when he found a late breaking news 
bulletin. A house fire. In Castlewood Park. I was gathering my 
purse and coat to go when I heard the street name. The street 
where my parents lived. I wondered which neighbour the house 
belonged to. I walked over to the TV and stood in front of it. 
The images that I saw slapped me in the face. It was my 
parents' home. I think I just stood there with my mouth open, 
trying to understand what I was seeing." Mayson paused to take 
a deep breath. "Finally, I must've said, `That's my parents' 
house' or something like that. 

"Bill asked me if I was sure, if I hadn't made a mistake or 
anything, as a way to calm me. I was beginning to 
hyperventilate at that point, so he took charge. He helped me 
on with my coat and led me downstairs to his car. His driver 
was off for the night, so he drove me to the house. 

"When we were about three miles from the house, I could see 
flames and the smoke rising. I just hoped that my family had 
escaped. The street was blocked by fire trucks, ambulances and 
police cars. Blue and red lights were flashing. People mingled 
around the barricades watching as the pieces of roof began to 
cave in. Bill led me to the police officer who was in charge, a 
Sergeant Zymack. When he learned that it was my parents' house, 
he began to ask me questions. I didn't hear what he asked. I 
just wanted to know where Mom and Dad, Tom and Janice were. He 
didn't have any answers. A neighbour had called 9-1-1. No one 
had seen people coming out of the house. Bill kept calling 
Tom's place, but there was no answer. 

"The fire raged on for another hour before the firefighters had 
it under control. It wasn't until much later in the morning 
that I found out...The firefighters found four badly charred 
bodies in the house. My parents...Tom and Janice." 

Mayson stopped talking. She had been talking as if she was on 
autopilot, but that hadn't stopped the tears from flowing. She 
used the tissues that Clark had handed to her to wipe the tears 
running down her cheeks while he left her side to bring her a 
glass of water. 

When he placed the glass in her hand, he said, "You don't have 
to go on if you don't want to." 

"No, I've started. I might as well get the rest out." She took 
a few sips of water, using those moments to calm herself. "The 
next day, Superman was flying around Metropolis again. Why 
wasn't he there when I needed him?" 

"What did the police find out?" asked Clark, not ready to hear 
more about Superman's failings. He knew what had happened to 
Superman and he didn't want to accept that he might have been 
able to change the outcome to Mayson's story. 

"The police put together a possible scenario to explain what 
happened. When my parents came home, they interrupted a 
burglary. The two burglars emptied their automatic guns into 
my...them. Then they set fire to the curtains on the main 
floor. The flames spread quickly. By the time the neighbour saw 
it, the flames had spread." Mayson closed her eyes as if she 
was trying to shut out the image. She chewed on her lips. "They 
found the four bodies fairly close to the front foyer. I had to 
identify them, but there wasn't much to identify... They had to 
rely on dental records." 

"Did the police find the culprits?" 

"The burglars took off in a 1972 Ford Pinto. It was found about 
fifteen miles from the house. It had spun out, hit something 
from the back, and the gas tank exploded. Two men died in the 
car. The fire department found two automatic rifles whose 
bullets matched the bullet casings in the house, some 
explosives and pieces of jewellery that belonged to my mother 
in the debris. There was no doubt that these men killed my 
family." She reached over to take some tissue from the box. She 
dabbed her eyes, then blew her nose. 

"Oh, Mayson, I'm so sorry," Clark said, "I can't imagine how 
awful it must be to lose everyone in one moment like that." 

"Pretty horrific, huh?" she lamented and then sat in silence. 

Clark didn't know what to say, so he took her hand and held it. 
She entwined her fingers and squeezed his hand. 

After a few moments, she added, "So, I'm infuriated. Where was 
Superman when I needed him? Why does he let us build hope, and 
he's not there when he's really needed?" 

"But..." 

"It may seem irrational to you Clark, but I think that I'd 
rather deal with a real person than someone who just shows up 
without taking any responsibility." 

"But..." 

"I'm not going to argue this with you or discuss it. I told you 
it's not rational. In the end, I'd rather deal with someone 
like you in court than Superman. You can be depended on; he 
can't." 

"But..." 

"Clark, it's getting late." Mayson dried her eyes and then 
collected her purse, jacket and briefcase. "Walk me to the 
door, please." 

"Mayson, are you all right? Do you want me to take you home?" 

"No. I'll be fine." 

At the door, Mayson turned to face Clark. "I haven't been very 
fair to you, ranting about my dislike of Superman. I know you 
and he are friends. I'm sorry." 

"Nothing to be sorry about," Clark said. 

Mayson stared at Clark. She opened her mouth as if to say 
something and then closed it. Looking at the door, she took a 
deep breath and turned to Clark. "Would you like to have 
lunch?" she asked. 

"To talk about the case?" 

"No." 

"Oh," he said as he realized what she wanted. 

"Try and cap that wild enthusiasm," she said, making light of 
her offer. 

"No, it's not that, you just caught me a little off guard 
but... yeah, lunch sounds good." 

"I'll call you." 

As Clark reached to open the door, he felt Mayson lean toward 
him. He looked at her as she quickly kissed him. Before Clark 
could respond, Mayson ended the kiss and walked out the door, 
leaving him a bit bewildered. Mayson's reactions to him made 
him feel strange. She was interested in him, but knowing how 
she felt about Superman, a very important part of Clark, made a 
relationship between them impossible. Not only that, even if he 
found Mayson attractive, he wasn't interested in her 
romantically. She wasn't Lois. 

Clark's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. 

"Lois..." he said as he let her in. 

Not waiting for any formal invitation, Lois opened her satchel 
and pulled out a picture. "I dug a little deeper and found out 
something else about Church." 

"Come on in," Clark said when she was halfway into the living 
room. 

"I can't stay. Just look." 

Lois handed him a picture of Bill Church, Martin Snell and 
Mayson Drake, arm in arm at a formal banquet. 

"Mayson Drake worked under Snell in Church's acquisitions 
division," she continued. 

"Yeah, I know." 

"You know?" she asked. "How?" 

"Mayson just told me. Well, she told me that Church had been 
her boss. She didn't mention Snell or what she did for Church." 

"Well, what does that tell you?" 

Just then, Lois's beeper went off. "It's Uncle Mike. He's in 
trouble. I've got to go." 

As soon as Lois left, Clark spun into his suit and flew over to 
the south side. 

*************** 

The next morning, Clark leaned back in his chair looking at his 
computer. He stared at the screen which displayed the article 
about the shooting of Della and Paul Drake, their son, Tom, and 
his wife, Janice. He ran a hand through his hair. Mayson was 
right. He hadn't been there when her parents needed him. He had 
allowed himself to be intimidated by Lex Luthor who had 
threatened the citizens of Metropolis. Instead of doing 
something about it, Clark had taken the cowardly route by 
hanging up his suit. It was another kind of running away. He 
had no idea how many people died or were injured because he 
wasn't around those three days. Up until this time, he hadn't 
thought about it. Even now, when he appeared at a catastrophe, 
there were often people whom he couldn't save, survivors who 
grieved. This time, unlike others, he had a peripheral 
relationship with the victims who now had names and the 
survivor had a face, Mayson's face. How could he live with 
that? 

A breath on his neck and a whiff of perfume interrupted his 
thoughts. 

"What are you looking at?" 

"An old story. Mayson told me why she dislikes Superman so 
much." 

Lois leaned over him, turning the screen so she could read it 
easily. After scanning the article, she moved around to face 
Clark. 

"I don't get the connection with Superman." 

"Look at the date." 

"So?" 

"That's when Superman wasn't around for three days, not long 
after he came to Metropolis. 

"So?" she asked again. 

"Mayson's parents might not have been killed. Maybe Superman 
could have saved them." 

"Or maybe Superman was somewhere else. Or maybe they didn't 
have time to call for help. Or maybe...Or maybe. She can't 
blame Superman for what might have been, and you definitely 
can't obsess about it. Superman isn't responsible for criminal 
behaviour..." 

"But..." Clark tried to argue. 

"In an ideal world, he should only have to help out with 
natural disasters and accidents, not have to deal with aberrant 
human behaviour." She shifted positions so that she was leaning 
against his desk and facing him. "Look, Clark, there's only so 
much that Superman can do. It's the idea of Superman, the idea 
that truth and justice are important. I told you that before. 
Now stop obsessing. We've got more important work to do." Lois 
patted Clark on the shoulder on her way back to her desk where 
she picked up a file. 

Clark looked at his screen again. Paul and Della Drake's 
picture screamed out at him. Even though Lois made sense, it 
was hard to forgive himself for making such a selfish error 
because he had allowed himself to be threatened by Lex Luthor. 

"I think that this picture...Clark, stop obsessing and pay 
attention...proves that Mayson is involved with Church and 
Snell. We have to get more information about Mayson. Clark, 
she's dirty." 

"Show me the proof," he said, following Lois into the 
conference room. Once again she was jumping to conclusions 
without having a shred of evidence. Mayson was his friend and 
he believed that she was innocent. 

"We don't have any proof on Snell, but you're willing to go 
after him," she challenged him, facing off across the 
conference table. 

"That's different. I told you, I have a... a source," Clark 
said, hesitating because once again he was evading the truth by 
telling her that Superman was his source. 

"I'll tell you what's different; when Snell bats his eyes, you 
don't get quite so giddy." 

"Wait, wait. Are you jealous or something?" he asked, leaning 
forward on the table. 

"Of what? We're friends. We're partners. What you do away from 
me is... is..." 

"Yes?" Clark really wanted to know what Lois was thinking. 

"... whatever you do," she said, waving her arms in the air. "I 
don't care --except when it affects our job." 

"How is it affecting my job to say I disagree? To say you have 
no proof that Church is the head of Intergang and so no proof 
that just because Mayson worked for Church...she's part of 
Intergang? We've got to stay on track." 

"You're not saying stay on track, you're saying stay away from 
your girlfriend." 

"She's not my girlfriend," Clark pointed out. 

"Whatever she is, she's got you finger-wrapped and 
blindfolded." 

"If there's anybody blind here, it's you." Upset by Lois's lack 
of clarity on the Mayson issue, Clark stormed out of the 
conference room, grabbed his jacket and headed to the 
elevators. 

He heard Lois ask what that was supposed to mean. He knew damn 
well what he meant. She was blind to him and how he felt about 
her. What did she see in his demeanor when he was with Mayson? 
Did he bring Mayson coffee and donuts in the morning? Did he 
stare at her whenever she wasn't looking? Did he put up with 
Mayson's temper tantrums? Did he fly by Mayson's apartment at 
night to make sure that she was all right? 

No. He did all those things for Lois. She was the one who was 
blind because she was only interested in Clark as a friend. And 
once he got over this latest tiff, he would return to loving 
Lois from a distance. He definitely wasn't going to tell her. 
The last time he had let her know how he felt about her, she'd 
gone running into Lex Luthor's arms. He wasn't sure what she 
would do this time. So, he'd continue being her friend and 
continue to bury his feelings inside. He was getting good at 
keeping secrets. 

*************** 

Clark leaned back in his chair. Knowing that he and Lois had to 
prove a connection with Snell, Intergang, and Bill Church, he 
had shaken off his anger at Lois and returned to work, which 
had to be their priority. In the end, they hadn't been able to 
find a connection to Bill Church, but he and Lois, with 
Mayson's help, had proved that Snell had a major role in 
bribing police officers and tainting evidence for a trial. In 
the end, Snell was in custody, and Baby Rage was back in jail 
awaiting trial. 

The tension between Lois and him had eased while they worked on 
the case. Lois begrudgingly accepted that Mayson wasn't 
involved with Snell, but she never apologized for her outburst 
in the conference room, and he never called her on it. Once 
again, he allowed work to help them gloss over their arguments 
so that they wouldn't have to deal with the real issues. 

Now, Clark shut down his computer. Staring at Paul and Della 
Drake's picture over and over was not doing any good. Something 
was niggling at the back of his mind, but he couldn't put his 
finger on it. He put on his jacket and headed toward the 
elevators. He needed to get ready for the charity ball Perry 
had insisted that he attend. 

*********** 

Lois had an amazing time at the charity ball. Dancing with 
Clark was wonderful. She was glad that they had made up after 
their little spat. She knew that Clark was her friend, and deep 
down she knew that, no matter what happened, she wouldn't lose 
him. When they were dancing, she enjoyed the feel of his arms 
around her, the way their bodies moved together. It was almost 
comfortable except for the trace of electricity that passed 
through her when they touched, when he moved closer to whisper 
something to her. Just as her eyes kept looking around the 
dance floor for him, his eyes kept connecting with hers. Even 
when he was dancing with Mayson, she could still feel that 
electricity when their eyes met, when he smiled at her from 
across the room. He wasn't interested in Mayson, she told 
herself. 

She wasn't willing to let go of the evening when she got home. 
She flipped on her stereo. Listening to strains of "Fly Me to 
the Moon", she closed her eyes and remembered being in Clark's 
arms. She began swaying to the music, letting it sweep her 
across the living room. As she moved she felt a presence in the 
room. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Standing in front of her was 
Superman. She looked at him a bit embarrassed being caught in 
the middle of her daydream of Clark. She felt disloyal, but she 
wasn't sure to whom the disloyalty was aimed. 

"I just dropped in to say thanks for your advice the other 
night," he said, his eyes taking her in. 

"You're welcome...Officer. My uncle keeps wanting me to find 
out who that cop was so he can bake him a cake." 

"Well, tell him I retired from the force, but I'll still be 
looking out for him... and you, too." He took a step closer to 
her. 

"I know," she said. He always managed to look out for her. He 
had in the last year saved her from falling out of a plane, 
into a vat of acid, off a building, out her window...Yes, he 
was there when her life was in danger, but not when her heart 
was in danger. They had a strange relationship. Several months 
ago, when she had tried to see if they had a future, he had 
brushed her off in a rather brusque and hurtful way. A few days 
ago, when she had waved to him on the court house steps, he'd 
barely acknowledged her before he flew off. And now, he was 
standing there, staring at her as if he couldn't yank his eyes 
away. She couldn't figure him out, but he was with her now and 
appeared to be interested. She watched him as he turned to 
leave. She liked it when he paid attention to her. She didn't 
want him to go. "Would you... like to dance?" she asked. 

"That sounds nice." 

His answer surprised her, but she moved closer to him, allowing 
him to take her in his arms. They danced, gazing at each other, 
neither sure what to say to the other, letting the music and 
their closeness wash over them. 

"I like this song," he finally said. 

"Do you? I've been thinking, I don't know very much about you. 
I don't know what kind of music you like, what your favourite 
colour is. I didn't even know you could dance." 

"This isn't dancing." 

"It's not?" 

"This is." 

Lois felt lighter than air. As she looked over Superman's 
shoulder, she realized that they were floating and hovering two 
feet off the floor. Yes, she thought, this is dancing. She 
allowed Superman to lead her in this very special kind of 
dance, feeling comfortable in his arms except for the trace of 
electricity that flowed through her when they touched. 

The music ended too quickly for Lois. She had never had such an 
intimate moment with Superman before. It surprised her that she 
had felt the same way, special, tingly twice in one night. But 
thinking about Superman or Clark in a romantic way was 
ridiculous, she thought. Superman was this god in tights, not 
really a part of the earth. He belonged to the heavens. 

Clark had found his own clouds - Mayson. He was involved at the 
moment with Mayson, or at least he was obsessed with Mayson. 
His mind seemed to be stuck on those days when Mayson's family 
was killed. That was all that Clark could talk about. Funny, 
that the groove in which he got locked had more to do with 
Superman than Clark. 

But now with Superman in her apartment, she had the opportunity 
to ask some questions about where he was when Mayson's parents 
were killed. She could help her partner out. Superman was 
walking toward the window. 

"Superman, before you go, I...uh...I would like to ask you 
something," she said. 

Superman turned around. He had hoped to leave before he 
betrayed how wonderful it felt to hold and dance with Lois. 
Ever since he had learned ballroom dancing with the Nigerian 
Princess, he had wondered what it would be like to dance with 
someone in the air. Until he met Lois, he hadn't craved it. Now 
that he had experienced it, felt how good it was to be so near 
to Lois, he wanted more. He had to leave before he gave into 
the desire to kiss her. That would be a mistake. But she was 
calling him back. 

"Of course, go ahead," he said nervously, hoping that she 
wouldn't ask him something he'd have to lie about. He could 
deal with his favourite colour or his favourite food. 

"When you first came to Metropolis," she began, "you 
disappeared for several days. Why?" 

Superman just stared at Lois. 

"Why? Why are you asking?" he countered. 

"Clark's been obsessing about something that happened while you 
were away. I think he needs to understand why you weren't 
here." 

"Oh, I could...uh...talk to Clark about that." 

"Well, now that I've asked, I'm curious to know as well. Why 
did you leave?" 

Could he tell her the truth? Would she understand? And would it 
make any difference to his reactions to Mayson's family's 
deaths? He stared at her for a few moments. He had prevaricated 
with her enough. He could at least tell a partial truth here. 

"I was around. I just stopped helping for a while." 

"You were around, but you stopped helping? I don't understand." 

He should have known that Lois would probe deeper, would not 
let him get away with a half truth. 

"I was being threatened." 

"Nobody can threaten you; you're Superman." 

"Yes, they can. I was told that if I interfered, the people of 
Metropolis would get hurt. I couldn't let that happen. When the 
bomb went off in the lobby of the Carlin Building, the 
explosion could have hurt other people." He stepped closer to 
her and traced the small scar on her forehead. "Look, you could 
have been hurt a lot worse than you were. That explosion was 
directed at me." 

"How do you know it was directed at you?" 

"When I first arrived in Metropolis, someone set up a series of 
tests to find out how strong and how fast I was. He also found 
out my weakness." 

"Tests?" 

"Yes. Two people jumped off tall buildings across town almost 
at the same time. I saved them both. That showed my speed. Then 
there was the explosion at the Carlin Building. He found out 
that I was invulnerable. When he realized that human lives were 
my weakness, he used it." 

"Who is this `he' you're talking about?" Lois was getting 
frustrated with Superman's evasions. 

"I don't think you want to know." 

"Trust me, I want to know," she said curtly. 

Clark hesitated for a moment. Luthor was dead, after all. "Lex 
Luthor." 

"Lex Luthor," she repeated, "was testing and threatening you?" 

"Yes." 

"And you didn't tell me?" 

"What could you have done?" 

"Find out more about him....Wait a second...You...you...knew 
that Lex Luthor threatened you, so you must have known that he 
was into a lot of illegal dealings." 

"I had strong suspicions, but nothing concrete. It was all 
based on circumstantial evidence." 

"And you didn't tell me?" 

"I didn't have anything for a court of law or for a newspaper 
to publish." 

Lois shook her head, not believing how incredibly dense 
Superman was being at the moment. "That's not what I mean. You 
didn't tell *me*." She paused, staring at him. "I was engaged 
to that man, and you, who I thought was my friend, didn't tell 
me. You would have let me marry him." 

Superman stood with his mouth open. She had backed him into a 
trap that he never saw coming. How was he ever going to get out 
of this one? 

"I...I...had hoped that you'd find out before the wedding. 
I...Clark told you his suspicions about Luthor and you didn't 
believe him." He felt flustered. How could he explain why he 
hadn't told Lois about his suspicions? For himself, the 
division between Clark and Superman was not that clear. He had 
believed that if he told Lois to be wary of Luthor, in whatever 
guise he wore, she would trust what he said. Clark was becoming 
her friend. She should have trusted him. Not having told her 
had angered and frustrated him when he was trapped in Luthor's 
kryptonite cage. If he hadn't been trapped and weakened, he 
would have come to save her even if he had to interrupt the 
wedding. He would not have let her marry him. 

"I thought that if you didn't believe Clark then you wouldn't 
believe me," he said, but Lois still glared at him, letting him 
know that she expected more. "I had hoped that Clark and the 
others would unravel Luthor's deeds and let you know. That 
should have happened before the wedding." 

"You delegated the task of warning me to Clark?" 

Superman stared at her, open-mouthed. 

Lois took a step toward him. "And so, in the end, you..." she 
jabbed her finger into his chest "...let me walk down the aisle 
into the arms of a..." she paused looking for the correct word 
"...psychopath...because you were hoping that I... wouldn't? 
That's not what friends do." 

"Lois, it's not as simple as that." 

"It's very simple," she said slowly, enunciating each word as 
if she were explaining a difficult concept to a child. "Let me 
explain in very elementary terms: When a friend has information 
about someone...no, not just anyone, a sociopathic 
criminal...that friend tells her of his suspicions so she can 
make a knowledgeable decision. Simple enough for me." 

"Lois," he started, but he could see that she was just 
beginning. 

"Instead, I end up making the biggest mistake of my life 
because, for some reasons that I don't understand and that you 
for sure aren't making clear, you found it necessary to deliver 
your messages to me through Clark...And speaking of Clark, why 
can you tell him your suspicions and not me?" 

"No matter what Clark said, you were still running into 
Luthor's waiting arms. Why would what I say make a difference?" 

"But I asked you if there was any hope for us. I told you how I 
felt about you," she whispered, more to herself than to him. 

"Lois, this is so complicated... " he said before the sounds of 
sirens invaded his hearing. 

"Complicated?" she asked as she continued on with her rant 
unaware of the crisis that was lurking in the streets of 
Metropolis. 

Superman kept signaling that he needed to go, but his hand 
motions didn't register on her. 

"Lois, there's a fire. It sounds pretty bad. I've got to go." 

"Convenient, isn't it?" she asked sarcastically as he darted 
out her window. "You manage to hear a fire at the most 
opportune times." 

Lois walked over to her stereo system and turned it off. She 
didn't feel like dancing anymore. 

******* 

The fire burned late into the night. When he arrived, Superman 
found a number of people trapped on the upper floors. The fire 
escapes had been long neglected so there were gaps between 
floors. The stairways were cluttered with garbage, toys and 
prams. He used the first few minutes rescuing the people from 
the burning building. Then, while the police officers were 
evacuating nearby apartments, he worked with the fire fighters 
to contain the fire that was quickly spreading. By the time he 
wasn't needed anymore, it was early morning. He went home, 
showered and headed into the office. 

Clark didn't feel like going into work, but he didn't have a 
choice. He had to write up the story for the paper, and he also 
wanted to do some research on the owners of the building. It 
had been so neglected that it was the waiting accident that had 
finally happened. 

On the other hand, he didn't want to go into work because he 
knew that Lois was incensed. Well, not with him, but with 
Superman, and he wasn't sure how he was going to react to that. 
In some ways, she had every right to be furious. Superman knew 
the kind of person Luthor was, and he knew that Lois would 
respect what he had to say. At least she would have done some 
investigating into Luthor's past and his business dealings 
before she made any kind of commitment to him. Instead, he had 
behaved childishly. Had he wanted Lois to suffer? Yes, the 
rogue side of him had to admit. He had let his own exasperation 
with Lois's attitude to Clark's confession of love dictate his 
behaviour. Basically, he had let her find out for herself. 
Learn from experience. But experience might have happened too 
late and Lois would have been married to Luthor. He knew that 
Lois was right. Friends didn't do that to each other. 

But, as Clark, he had warned her against Luthor several times. 
Granted, he never told her what he suspected. He just cautioned 
her, hoping that her instincts would make her question Luthor's 
motives. But instead of listening to him, she had only taken 
his words of warning as signs of his jealousy. Yes, he was 
jealous, but he also was being honest with her. How could she 
have been so blind to what was staring her directly in her 
face? She didn't have to love him, but she could have trusted 
him to tell her the truth. 

So, who was right here? He wanted to believe that he was, but 
he wasn't sure. 

"Whatcha working on, Clark?" Lois asked as she came up to his 
desk. This time it was Lois who was holding two mugs of coffee 
in her hands. 

"Just writing up the fire on Bayside Avenue." 

"I hear it was a pretty bad one." 

"Yeah, it was. Luckily, no one got hurt." He took the coffee 
that she handed him and sipped it. It was perfect-just the 
right amount of cream and sugar. Exactly what he needed at that 
moment. 

"What started it?" she asked. 

"Neglect. Mismanagement. The place was really a mess. People 
lived there, but the management company ignored basic safety 
features." 

"What do you mean?" 

"For example, they had fire alarms in the hall, but the 
batteries were dead." 

"Do you think the management company did it for the insurance?" 

"That's what I'm looking into it." 

"Who owned the building?" 

"So far all I have is that it was run by Abbott Management, 
located in an office building a few blocks from the apartment." 

"Any other information on this Abbott Management." 

"Not yet," Clark said. "I've got Jimmy digging deeper." 

"What else have you got?" 

"I've written up the story with quotes from the fire chief and 
Superman. Right now, it looks like a straight news story, but I 
`d like to do more with it. How can faceless companies manage 
these buildings while ignoring and neglecting the safety of the 
people living there? One hundred and forty-eight people lived 
in that building. Any one of them could have been killed 
because the fire escape was broken. Railings were loose on the 
balconies." Clark got up and began pacing around his desk. "I 
don't get it. What is this Abbott Management getting paid for? 
Don't they have any sense of responsibility?" 

"You're really passionate about this one, aren't you?" 

Clark just shrugged, running his hands through his hair. "When 
I got to the site, after the fire was put out, I watched the 
people who lived in that building. One teen-aged girl was 
sitting on the sidewalk across from the apartment. She was 
stroking her dog and crying. I heard her ask her mother, `Where 
do we go now?' That same scene repeated itself over and over 
again." Clark stopped talking, remembering what he saw at the 
fire. Finally, he turned to Lois and said, "I think I could do 
something about this, maybe help make some changes." 

"So, go into Perry and ask him if you can run a series about 
this. I'll back you up." 

"Thanks," he said, appreciating her ability to understand what 
was important to him. 

Before they were able to go into speak to Perry, Clark fielded 
a phone call. He jotted down notes as he listened. Lois stared 
at him, her curiosity piqued. 

"That was my contact at the fire department," he said in answer 
to Lois's gaze. "Apparently his men found two bodies in what 
they assume is the basement of the apartment. The coroner's got 
the bodies now. I'm going over as soon as I send this article 
to Perry. Wanna come?" He surprised himself when he asked Lois 
that question considering that he was wary about the argument 
she had with Superman the previous night, but it seemed so 
natural to ask. 

"Sure." 

In Lois's Jeep, an hour and a half later, Clark sat recapping 
what they had learned. 

"There are no people who were living in the apartment building 
unaccounted for. So who do those two bodies belong to? 

"Vagrants? Squatters?" Lois offered. 

"Criminals?" 

"Don't be silly, Clark. Vagrants or squatters make more sense 
to me." 

"They were two men with bullets in them. The coroner hasn't 
done a complete autopsy yet, but she felt that they `d been 
shot before the fire. So why couldn't it be some gangland 
killing?" 

"Because, Clark, you can't go looking for answers in illogical 
places." 

"You're just saying that because a criminal connection is my 
idea, not yours." 

"But there is no evidence." 

"So, let's go find some." 

"Where?" she challenged him. 

"I don't know yet." Clark sat back in the car ."But we'll find 
something, I'm sure." 

 

They drove the next few blocks in what was, for Clark, an 
uncomfortable silence. Instead of focussing on their 
investigation, he was more curious to know what was on Lois's 
mind. Looking over at her, he saw that she was preoccupied with 
more than her driving. Normally, he would ask her what she was 
thinking about, and normally she would let him know. This time, 
he had a suspicion that she was thinking about Superman. He 
didn't want to deal with the discussion. 

"Superman came over last night after the Charity Ball," Lois 
said as she kept her eyes on the road ahead of her. "He's a 
jerk." 

Clark sat up. He had known she wanted to talk about last night, 
but he wasn't ready to deal with his other personality, 
especially when he knew that he was in the wrong, wasn't he? 

"Aren't you going to ask why?" 

"Why?" he asked flatly. 

"I'm glad you asked. I wanted to know why he didn't warn me 
before I accepted Lex's proposal. Did you know that Superman 
didn't trust him because Lex had tested Superman soon after he 
got to Metropolis?" 

"Yes. So?" 

"Why didn't he tell me?" 

"Who?" 

"Superman. Why hadn't he warned me about the kind of monster 
Lex was? He made me go through the engagement, the wedding, 
Lex's awful death, and all the personal issues afterwards. I 
thought Superman was my friend." 

"I told you," Clark said in a hushed voice, "You didn't believe 
me." 

"That was you, Clark. You didn't tell me that Lex was a 
criminal. You just told me to watch out for him; he wasn't what 
he seemed to be." 

"And you didn't believe me." 

"You didn't offer me any evidence." 

"So why would you believe Superman?" 

"Because Superman didn't have a vested interest." 

"And I did?" 

"Yes, you did. You said that you loved me, remember, that day 
in the park...I...I thought you were jealous." 

"I didn't want you to get hurt. And I warned you before that 
day in the park." 

"That's not the point. Superman didn't think it was important 
enough to tell me." 

"He was helping us dig up the dirt on Luthor," Clark said, 
knowing that it wasn't exactly the truth. 

"I don't think I can ever forgive him for this, Clark." 

Clark watched Lois lift her hand from the steering wheel to 
wipe away a single tear running down her cheek. He'd done it 
again; he'd hurt Lois. How did he manage to trip over himself 
so often? So now Superman was in the doghouse, and Clark was 
Lois's friend. But that wasn't right either. 

In a sense, he was glad that Superman had fallen a notch or two 
in Lois's estimation. He was no longer a perfect man. In most 
cases, there were no consequences in his having a dual 
identity. He was fairly safe helping people, working with 
Henderson, even dealing with Jimmy and Perry. His only 
stumbling block was Lois. And that block was there because she 
didn't know the truth. But now wasn't the right time to tell 
her. As she said, she could never forgive Superman. How did he 
manage to get himself into these binds? 

Lois and Clark remained lost in their own thoughts the rest of 
the way back to the Planet. When they walked into the newsroom, 
Jimmy, who was grinning from ear to ear, accosted them with the 
information that they had asked for. 

"Okay, CK, this is what I found out. Abbott Management is a 
company run by two brothers, Stanley and Alvin Rossi. They've 
had a number of businesses over the years that they've 
basically run into the ground. At this time, they are managing 
quite a number of properties owned by Bennett Realty Limited 
which has land and buildings all over the city parceled out to 
various management companies. They don't have any hands-on 
connections to the buildings at all. Interestingly, over the 
last six months, four of Abbott's buildings have burned down 
or, in one case, a wall actually collapsed." 

"I remember that one," Clark muttered. Jimmy and Lois looked at 
him questioningly. "I passed it when I was out one day." 

"Okay? Anyway, all the properties are managed by Abbott. And 
just in case you're wondering if Abbott is mismanaging all its 
holdings, they're not. They have several expensive, well-cared 
for condo buildings in the city. They're managing some new ones 
in your neck of the woods, CK." 

"Strange," mused Lois. "Why would they take care of some 
buildings and let others deteriorate and be destroyed?" 

"Where are the four buildings that have been destroyed located, 
Jimmy?" Clark asked. 

Jimmy called up a map of the city on his computer and pointed 
out the areas. "I've looked here already, CK, but I can't see 
any connection to the sites." 

"Neither can I," Clark said, staring at the computer screen in 
front of him. 

"Where do you want me to look now?" Jimmy asked. 

"Keep looking at what else you can find about Abbott and 
Bennett, Jimmy," Lois said, giving him an encouraging pat on 
the shoulders. "You've really got a knack for digging up 
information on the computer." 

Jimmy grinned like a child who had been given a gold star by 
his favourite teacher. "Thanks, Lois," he beamed. 

Clark moved over to his desk and sifted through the paperwork 
he'd accumulated on this story so far. "I thought computers 
would cut down on the amount of paper that we use, but it 
hasn't. I think we create even more," he said to no one in 
particular. 

"Probably." Lois walked over to her desk ready to turn her mind 
to another task when an idea struck her. 

"Clark," she said, "I'm going over to the building and check it 
out. Whaddya say? Do you wanna come along, partner?" 

"Lois, it's dangerous going through a burnt building. You don't 
know what's stable and what's not." 

"Well, I'm going. You can come along or not." 

"Like that?" asked Clark looking down at Lois's crisp burgundy 
business suit and her high-heeled pumps. Lois followed Clark's 
gaze and understood his question. 

"No, I've got some grubby clothes in my locker. I'm going to 
change and then I'll go." She looked Clark up and down before 
she added, "I don't think that suit will survive this outing, 
either." 

It didn't take the reporters long. Dressed in more appropriate 
clothing, they drove to the site of the fire. 

Police tape, cautioning residents of the danger, surrounded the 
structure. Lois ignored the tape and pushed her way to the 
entrance of the building. The front door was off its hinges and 
much of the shattered glass lay surrounding the entrance. Lois, 
without checking what was in front of her, quickly moved 
through the opening and went towards what used to be the 
stairwell. 

"Be careful, Lois. That could be dangerous." 

"I know that Clark, but I want to go down to the basement and 
look around, and the elevator isn't working." 

"Lane!" yelled Fire Inspector Jeremy Lyons. "Where do you think 
you're going?" 

"To the basement, of course." 

"You can't go down there. This is an investigation and I can't 
have you tampering with the evidence." 

"Give me a break, Jeremy. When have I ever tampered with the 
evidence? As a matter of fact..." She bulldozed through any 
answer that Lyons could give her. "...how many times has my so-
called tampering led to information for you to work with." And 
once again before Lyons could interject she plowed on, "And I 
share with you, but do you always share with me?" 

Lyons looked helplessly at Clark. "Help me out here, Kent." 

"You know she's right. Let her look around. I'll keep an eye on 
her." 

"What do you mean by that, Kent?" Lois asked, not happy with 
what her partner was implying. 

"I mean that if you seem to be in some kind of danger, I'll 
call Jeremy for help. That's all." 

"All right. I can accept that." 

"The stairs are fairly safe," said Lyons, once again giving up 
the battle with Lois. If he were twenty-five years younger and 
single, he would definitely go after Lane. She was quite a 
woman. "Here, you'll need a powerful flashlight." 

Clark took the flashlight from Lyons and followed Lois, who had 
already made a head start, down the stairs. It was dark. The 
stairs and the walls were covered with wet, slimy soot. Lois's 
running-shoe-clad foot lightly slipped, but Clark caught her 
elbow and prevented any fall. 

"Careful, Lois," he whispered. 

"Why are you whispering?" she asked, "Jeremy knows we're here." 

Clark kept his hand on Lois's elbow as they continued down the 
stairs. At the foot of the stairs, they were facing the laundry 
room with the charcoaled washers and dryers. In the centre of 
the floor, police tape marked where the first of the two bodies 
was found. Clark shone the light on the floor outlining the 
path that they should follow, avoiding pot holes and places 
where plaster and wood had fallen in. 

"The body was buried under the rubble. Looks like a lot of 
stuff fell through the ceiling," Clark remarked when he shone 
the light up above their heads. "But the coroner said that most 
likely the men were dead before the smoke could asphyxiate 
them." 

As Clark spoke, Lois kept walking around looking closely at the 
floor beneath her feet. 

"Clark, shine the flashlight over here for a minute." 

Clark did as he was told, shining the light back at the 
entranceway. Lois crouched and began to scrape away some of the 
debris. She picked up a round, shiny object. 

"Look at this." 

"What?" 

"This. It looks like a coin...no...it's a button that looks 
like a coin...like a quarter. See here's the post on the back." 

"And?" 

"It could be a clue." 

"A button in a laundry room? I don't think so." 

"Don't be in such a hurry, Clark. Think about it. This is an 
expensive button that would be on a coat or a suit. Most coats 
and suits are not washed; they're dry cleaned, so..." 

"Whoever lost the button was wearing the coat or suit could 
have lost it while either putting in or taking clothes out of 
the washing machine." 

"I don't do laundry in good clothes, do you?" 

"Sometimes, if I'm in a hurry." 

"That's not the point and you know it. This is probably a clue, 
Clark. We can't ignore it," Lois said as she slipped the button 
into her pocket. 

"Lois." 

"What now?" 

"You can't put that button in your pocket." 

"Why not?" 

"Because if you're right, then it's evidence, and you know that 
you have to give it to Jeremy." 

"It's just a button, Clark." 

"Lo-is," he emphasized each syllable as a parent would to a 
child who knows she's misbehaved. "Give me your notebook." 

Lois, with a big smile plastered on her face, rifled through 
her purse until she pulled out her notebook and a pen. She 
handed them to Clark, who opened the book to a clean page and 
sketched the button on it and then put the button under the 
page to make a tracing of it. 

Lois looked over his shoulder, impressed by the accuracy with 
which he had captured the button. "Okay, I'll give it to 
Jeremy, but only because you admitted that I'm right and that 
it is probably a clue," she said smugly. 

They kept walking around the room looking at the ground for any 
other clues that they could find. Clark pointed the flashlight 
out into the hallway. Together they followed the light. They 
maneuvered around the debris that was in their path, coming to 
the tenants' storage space where the second body was found. 
Their eyes swept the area looking for more clues, but there was 
nothing that stood out. Clark swung the flashlight up to the 
ceiling and peered into another level. 

"I'm going up to the second floor above the laundry room," said 
Lois. 

"Lo-is!" 

"Cla-ark," she mimicked, "What?" 

"It's dangerous up there." 

"So?" 

"You could get hurt. I don't want you taking any unnecessary 
risks." 

"Don't get macho on me, Kent. You know what Perry says. You 
can't get to know Elvis without getting to know the Colonel, 
and I'm not going to get this next story without taking any 
risks." 

"Wait for me," he answered, without enthusiasm, and followed 
her. 

With so very little natural light getting into the building, it 
was harder to see on the second floor. Clark kept close behind 
Lois to make sure she didn't slip or fall on the sloppy soot 
that was underfoot. He was surprised that Jeremy Lyons had 
allowed them to wander freely through the burnt-out building. 
It was dangerous. On the other hand, it was difficult to stop 
Lois if she had her mind set on exploring the premises. And, 
she was right; she did manage to find evidence that others 
couldn't find. She had an unexplainable sixth sense for these 
kinds of things. She could have been a detective instead of a 
journalist. 

Clark followed her into an apartment that appeared to be 
directly on top of the laundry room. 

"Careful, Lois. Part of the floor has already fallen in." 

"I know. I'm careful." She walked away from Clark toward the 
edge of the hole in the floor and kneeled, peering into the 
laundry room below. "I just want to look at what `s below 
this..." 

Within a fraction of a second, a piece of floor had broken off 
and Lois, who had been peering over the hole, was falling. 
Without stopping to think, Clark rushed over, grabbing her by 
the wrists. Her body pulled back as if she had come to the end 
of a bungee rope. Her scream pounded in his ears. 

"I've got you, Lois. Don't squirm." 

His next problem was to lift her up, back onto the second 
floor, without her body scraping the ragged edges of the floor. 
She was facing away from him, but he worried that she might 
realize that he had abilities beyond that of a normal man. And 
then, within a fraction of a second, he knew that he would do 
anything to ensure that Lois did not get hurt, even if it meant 
risking his secret. 

He levitated, and as he moved higher, Lois's body began to rise 
up above the floor line. Slowly, he moved his hands down her 
arms until he grasped her under her arms. He lowered himself 
and stepped back from the edge to haul her towards him, finally 
able to set her on her feet, but just as he did that, her legs 
gave way beneath her. Clark caught her in his arms and held 
onto her. 

Lois began to shiver. In her mind, she was still falling face 
first into the debris below. Her heart was thumping in her 
chest, but she was trying to tell herself that she was safe 
now, being held in Clark's strong arms. She hadn't realized how 
much power he had in his arms. Lifting her up could not have 
been easy. Yet he did it, so easily, as if she was nothing more 
than a feather. Thank goodness for his quick reflexes. She 
could have been lying two floors below in the mucky soot. 
Instead, she was here in Clark's arms. 

"Clark," she muttered over and over. 

"It's okay, Lois. You're okay." He wrapped his arms around her, 
stroking her back and neck. 

They stood there for several minutes, each clutching onto the 
other. 

"What's going on here?" Jeremy Lyon's voice boomed. 

Lois jumped at the intrusion. She didn't want to leave the 
safety of Clark's arms just yet. 

"Nothing. I had a...fright...yes, a fright...it's dark," Lois 
explained. "Come on, Clark." Lois stepped back from the comfort 
of his arms. "Let's get out of here." 

Lois took Clark's hand and led him back to the stairs where 
Lyons, who was worried about Lois, was climbing the stairs to 
meet them. He guided them back to the main floor, out of the 
building. When Clark urged Lois with his eyes, she reluctantly 
handed Lyons the button, explaining her theory about the 
relevance of the button. Lyons took it from her and placed it 
in an evidence bag. There was nothing left for the reporters to 
do but go back to the newsroom to write up the story. 

***************** 

The following day, Lois, Clark and Jimmy sat in the lunch room, 
coffee and sandwiches in front of them, discussing the phone 
call they had received from Jeremy Lyons earlier that day. 

"The two men shot in the basement were Stanley and Alvin Rossi, 
the managers of the building," Lois said. "Why would someone 
want to kill them?" She stared at Clark. 

"I don't have the answer," he replied. "All we can do is make 
some guesses and see where they lead us." 

Lois looked over at Clark's lunch. "Do you want that pickle?" 
she asked. 

"No, take it." He took a bite of his turkey sandwich. "We could 
guess that the tenants would have liked to see them dead since 
they did such a lousy job managing the building..." 

"But they wouldn't do it at the expense of their own homes," 
Lois said as she nibbled on the dill pickle. 

"Unless the fire was unrelated." 

"But it wasn't, according to the fire investigator," added 
Jimmy. 

"I never did understand how they could figure out where a fire 
starts," Lois remarked. 

"Well..." Clark began. 

"Don't bother," she said as she reached for his coleslaw. "Do 
you mind?" 

"Go ahead." He slid the container of coleslaw across the table 
to her. 

"It could have been a drug deal gone bad," Jimmy suggested 
munching on his apple. 

"Or they knew something that someone else didn't want known." 
Lois placed a forkful of coleslaw in her mouth. "Mmm, Moe's 
makes the best coleslaw." 

"I don't get it, Clark," said Jimmy. 

"Get what?" 

"Why you order a pickle and coleslaw when Lois always takes it 
before you can eat it?" 

Clark looked at Lois enjoying the coleslaw. "It comes with the 
sandwich." 

"No, it doesn't," Jimmy corrected. 

"Oh!" he said, watching Lois finish the remains of the 
coleslaw. He just shrugged his shoulders and continued with the 
earlier discussion. "What would the Rossis have known to get 
them killed?" 

"I think that's what we need to learn," said Lois. "I think we 
need to dig into their business dealings. I'm sure we'll find 
something shady there." 

"We also need to talk to some of the tenants. They may have 
heard or seen something," Clark suggested. 

"Looks like we have our afternoon cut out for us, partner." 

As Lois and Clark got up to leave the lunch room, Jimmy glanced 
at the sports section of the newspaper. 

"That's really cool that you managed to snag tickets to 
tonight's football game." 

"Um-I didn't get them. Someone else got them and invited me," 
said Clark watching Lois hovering at the lunch room door. He 
wished that she would move toward her desk. 

"Yeah? Boy, I'd like to have a friend like that. Who is he?" 

"She...uh...Mayson Drake." 

"Wow! It's a date. That's really cool, CK." 

Clark watched as Lois moved to her desk with greater purpose. 
Was she being huffy, he wondered. 

"Come on, Jimmy. We've got work to do." 

Clark went to his own work station, wishing that Jimmy would 
stop muttering about how lucky he was going to the game. He 
could see Lois's lips form into two thin as toothpicks lines. 
He sat down at his desk and decided that business was the 
easiest way to distract her from his evening with Mayson. He 
suggested that they spend the next part of the afternoon on the 
phone trying to contact the tenants of the burnt building while 
Jimmy did some more in-depth research on Abbott Management and 
the Rossi brothers. 

Lois kept her thoughts to herself except for work related 
issues. Hearing that Clark was going out with Mayson bothered 
her more than she expected, but then she thought that there was 
no reason for him not to date the pushy assistant district 
attorney. As far as she knew, Clark hadn't signed up for the 
priesthood, and it was more than obvious that Mayson had very 
strong feelings for him. She, on the other hand, knew that 
Clark was her friend and that was all she expected from him. 

She thought about the day in Centennial Park when he told her 
that he loved her, and then the day of her almost wedding to 
Lex when she could only think of Clark. She was confused at 
that time, and probably wasn't ready to marry Lex. That was why 
she had thought about Clark. But when he retracted his 
admission of love, she too realized that his friendship was 
what she valued. That was all. So why was she so upset over a 
stupid football game? She didn't even understand the game. 

She managed to get hold of the Juarez family who, unlike other 
residents of the building, left the make-shift shelter at the 
local church and moved in with Mrs. Juarez's sister. Lois took 
Clark along with her when she went to the apartment building 
six blocks from the Juarez former home. Lois and Clark sat down 
in the overcrowded living room with Carlos and Inez Juarez 
while their two younger children played with their three 
cousins. Their fourteen year old daughter sat in the kitchen 
listening to her CD player, doing her homework. 

Lois had hoped for more than a touchy-feely story about a hard-
working family who were now homeless and possessionless, but 
that seemed like what she was hearing. She'd let Clark write up 
the initial draft. 

Inez and Carlos explained that they had called Stan or Al about 
the condition of the building and their specific apartment many 
times over the last two years, after the brothers had taken 
over the management of the building. Neither man was 
sympathetic to the needs of the tenants, or the building, and 
both tried to slough the callers off. Only when they were 
threatened with phone calls to city authorities did they adjust 
the heat or the water, everyday necessities, but when it came 
time to making repairs, they fabricated excuses such as they 
had called a company to look after the fire escapes, but they 
wouldn't be available for a few weeks which turned into months 
and the months turned into years. Once, the residents had 
gotten together collecting money for the repairs themselves. 
When they tried to get the money back from the Rossis, the 
tenants were stalled. Although they never got their money back, 
they felt better having the building safer. It didn't take long 
for the families who were financially able to start moving out 
and a more transient type of occupant began moving in. The 
Juarez's themselves had placed a deposit for a new apartment 
that wouldn't be available for another two months. 

According to Inez, Al was a nasty piece of work. He was a 
stocky man, about five feet eight inches. His long, dark, 
bedraggled hair and his straggly goatee, which was surrounded 
by stubble, made him appear as if he had just walked out of the 
jungle. Whenever he came to collect the rent, he stood at the 
door demanding the money especially when a tenant would try to 
ask for some work to be done. He'd repeat, waving his greasy 
hand in the direction of the speaker, "Just give me the money. 
The money. Money. Money. I've got work to do." Rather than deal 
with him, most of the tenants ignored him, walking in the other 
direction when he approached, hoping his brother would come and 
collect the rent. 

His brother, Stan, was not as obnoxious. He was the same height 
as Al, but he was thinner and dressed fairly well. He politely 
told the tenants that he'd look into the problem and then he'd 
ignore their requests. At least he wasn't rude or repulsive. 

Inez had seen Al a few weeks prior to the fire when he had come 
to collect the rent, but she hadn't seen either of the brothers 
the night of the fire. She didn't think that they would have 
been responsible for setting the fire because, since they 
weren't the owners, they probably didn't have insurance. And 
given the fact that they did very little work for their money, 
she doubted they would have gained anything by burning down the 
building. She didn't know anything about any insurance 
policies, but she guessed that the owners of the building, 
Bennett Realty, would have held some kind of policy, but most 
of the other tenants had their own personal home insurance. 
Carlos bemoaned the fact that their policy would not come close 
to covering what they lost. Inez agreed, telling the reporters 
about the family pictures and some family mementos that didn't 
mean anything to anyone else but them. She had kept her 
mother's wedding dress, which she had worn at her own wedding, 
for her daughter, Carla. It was at that point that Inez broke 
down crying. 

Before they left, Lois asked the children if they had seen 
anything suspicious or different on the day of the fire. The 
younger two boys shook their heads, each having been at a 
friend's house. Fourteen-year-old Carla unplugged from her CD 
player for a moment, looked up at the two reporters and said 
that she hadn't seen anything. 

As Lois and Clark left the apartment building, Lois felt that 
at least they had a sense of who Stan and Al Rossi were, even 
though, she realized that they still had a long way to go with 
the investigation. On the street, Clark, looking at his watch, 
informed her that he had to get ready for the game or he'd miss 
the opening kick off. She offered to drive him home, but he 
chose to walk. 

She opened the door of her Cherokee, ready to get in, when she 
saw Carla hovering around the entrance of the building. Sensing 
that the girl wanted to talk to her, Lois stepped out of the 
SUV and walked toward Carla. 

"Hi again," Lois said. 

"Hi," Carla answered, looking around. "That's a nice car you've 
got." 

"Thanks." 

Carla walked across the street to the Cherokee and walked 
around the vehicle. "Nice colour." 

"Thanks." Lois waited. 

"What's it like being a reporter?" 

"Interesting. I meet different people, solve mysteries, write 
about what's happening in the city." 

"Do a lot of people tell you things but ask you not to write 
about them?" Carla asked avoiding Lois's intense stare. 
Instead, she fidgeted with the earphones of her CD player. 

"Yes," Lois said, more interested now that she realized that 
this girl had something to tell her. She didn't want to scare 
her off. "It's called `off-the-record' which means that I can 
use it to help me solve the problem or give me background 
information, but I can't write about it directly or about who 
told me." 

"Have you ever told someone that their talk is off-the-record 
and then printed it?" 

"No. Never. If I did, and it got out, no one would trust me 
enough to tell me anything. For me to be successful, people 
have to trust me." 

"Are you successful?" 

"Yes." Lois smiled, ready to rhyme off her investigative 
triumphs. "I think I'm very successful. I've won a few awards 
for my stories." She paused to look at the girl who had stopped 
squirming. "You saw something yesterday, didn't you?" 

"Yeah, but my dad would kill me and banish me to my room 
forever if he found out." 

"Why?" Lois began walking the girl down the street where there 
were some tables in front of a donut shop. 

"You've got to promise on your life not to tell anyone about 
this." 

"I promise." Lois just hoped that the girl would believe her. 

Before Carla could begin telling Lois what she knew, a waitress 
came out and took their orders for a cup of coffee, a juice and 
two donuts. While they were waiting, Lois found out that Carla 
was a ninth grader at the local high school, and an A student. 
When the waitress left after serving them their snack, Lois 
began her questioning. 

"Why are you worried about anyone knowing what happened two 
days ago?" 

"I was across the road from the apartment in the alleyway 
leading to the back of the building. I was meeting 
my...boyfriend...please, Miss Lane, you can't tell my parents 
about him. They'd kill him and me." 

"Why?" 

"He's nineteen. He's not in school anymore. I was supposed to 
be with my brothers, but I told them I was just going out to 
get some notes from a friend from school...but I was really 
meeting Kevin. They don't think I should be dating and they 
would kill me." 

"So you've said. He is a little too old for you..." 

"But he loves me and I love him, and you're not my mother." 

"You're right, I'm not your mother, but I have a feeling that 
sometimes mothers can be on the right track." 

Carla grimaced. Lois realized that a lecture on her part would 
not get her the information she needed. Surprised at this new 
nurturing tendency, she let Carla continue. 

"Kevin and I were standing in the alley across the road...in 
the dark where no one could see us. We were talking 
and...stuff...when I heard someone speaking loudly. We moved 
further into the shadows and then looked out to see who was 
there. We wanted to make sure that it was no one who would tell 
my parents. In front of my apartment building, I saw Stan and 
Al Rossi, I knew them because sometimes I had to give them the 
rent money. They were with two men I'd never seen before. One 
was really big; the other was tall and really skinny. They kept 
pushing Stan and Al around. 

"I heard one of them say something like you've f...um, you know 
the `f'' word, up one too many times. Then Stan said that they 
wouldn't make the same mistake again and that they hadn't told 
anyone." 

"What?" Lois asked, hoping to hear what they hadn't told 
anyone. 

"What? Oh! I don't know. No one ever said because then these 
guys pushed Stan and Al into the entrance of the building and 
that was the last I saw of them." 

"Then what did you do?" 

"Well...uh...Kevin and me, we went back to the driveway where 
his car was parked and well...we...uh...you know." 

Lois was tempted to advise Carla on male/female relationships 
when she thought better of it. Who was she to dole out advice? 
And why should Carla listen to her. She decided to continue 
with her own questions. "Carla, let's get back to the men. What 
did they look like?" 

"One of the men was tall and heavy. A white guy. Taller than 
Stan. He was bald." 

"What was he wearing?" 

"He was wearing a short jacket; it looked like it was leather 
or something." 

"What about the other guy?" Lois asked. 

"He was a tall, skinny guy wearing a trenchcoat. It was a light 
colour, like tan or beige. A little darker than beige." Carla 
was silent for a moment, sipping at her juice. "You know what?" 

"No. What?" 

"Both of them were wearing gloves." 

"No fingerprints. Doesn't surprise me," Lois mumbled. "You're 
doing a fantastic job remembering what happened. Can you think 
of anything else?" 

"No." 

"Replay what you saw one more time concentrating on the 
details. Maybe something will turn up." 

Carla did as she was told, but she repeated the same story to 
Lois. At the end of the retelling, Lois and Carla headed back 
to the Cherokee. Lois thanked Carla, promising her that she 
would not name her as her source. She also gave the girl her 
card and told her to call her or Clark Kent if she remembered 
anything else. 

Lois looked at her watch. Since it was getting late, she 
decided she would go directly home and write up her notes. In 
the Jeep, she pulled out her cell phone to tell Clark what she 
had learned. Remembering that he had a date with Mayson, she 
decided to wash her windows instead. 

********** 

"I'm surprised that you're so interested in football," Clark 
said to Mayson in the stands at Metropolis stadium. 

"Not really surprising," Mayson said, taking a sip of the hot 
chocolate Clark had bought for her. "I dated a tight end when I 
was in college so I spent a lot of time on the football field 
waiting for him to finish practice or watching him play. I 
learned about football, and I actually got to like the game." 

"I used to play football in school. I wasn't bad." 

"Football scholarship?" 

"No. Academic scholarship. I gave up football in college 
because I had to keep my grades up and work part-time." That 
was the excuse he told people. He really didn't have to work 
too hard to keep up his grades, but he felt that his natural 
abilities made playing competitive football unfair. Having to 
work part-time was true because he didn't want to burden his 
parents financially. 

"I had an academic scholarship, too." 

"No sports?" 

"I played basketball and softball, but once I got into college, 
other than for fun, I didn't play. I knew I had to work hard if 
I wanted to be a lawyer. I believed that I could make a 
difference. I believed in justice." She thought about what she 
had said. "Humpf. I wasn't as cynical back then as I am now." 

"Something happens to our ideals when they confront real life. 
I guess the important thing is to look at life realistically, 
but maintain our own personal ideals, making sure that we, as 
individuals at least, live up to them. We can't control other 
people, only ourselves. So we have to lead our lives as if we 
were setting an example for others." 

"Easier for you to say, working at a newspaper. In the DA's 
office, I deal with the scum of the earth who have the money to 
be represented by smart lawyers who can get them off. For me, 
everyday is an uphill battle." 

"So why do you do it?" 

"Because." She took another sip of the hot drink mulling over 
Clark's question. "In the end, I still believe in justice, and 
I believe that our legal system, even with its problems, 
basically works. If one person is treated justly, then I know 
that I've done a good job, whether I've won or lost the court 
battle." She paused looking out at the field and groaned. "I 
don't know why Kelly calls that play. Every time he does, the 
ball slips through Anderson's fingers as if he's greased his 
hands." 

Clark laughed. She loved to hear his laugh; it was so 
wholesome. "What?" 

"You really do know this game," he said, suddenly realizing how 
attractive he found this woman. Not only was she beautiful, but 
she cared about justice the way he did. And then, like the 
cherry on the sundae, she enjoyed football! 

"Of course I do," she responded. 

They watched the players on the field line up at the thirty-
yard line. "You know," Mayson continued as if she hadn't 
interrupted the conversation, "I don't think that I would like 
to do anything else for a living. I enjoy most aspects of 
criminal law much more than civil and corporate law." 

He saw her shiver. On impulse, and without exactly thinking it 
through, Clark put his arm around her, bringing her closer to 
him. "You are passionate about your career," he said looking 
into her eyes. 

"Yes, I am." She drew her face nearer to his. "Very 
passionate," she whispered. 

"I find that very attractive," Clark responded, leaning closer. 

Mayson gasped as he placed his lips on hers. They were so soft 
and he was so sweet tasting. The roaring of the crowd ended the 
moment. She grudgingly turned away from Clark who was now 
looking at the field and cheering on the Tigers. Milohvic had 
intercepted the ball at the Tiger ten yard line. They watched 
as Milohvic ran until Bloomsbury tackled him at the forty-yard 
line. 

*********** 

Lois stared at the windows. Managing to stand on the ledge and 
using a long-handled squeegee, she had cleaned the summer grime 
off her windows. The world looked clearer to her now. As she 
had worked, she felt the air get colder. Winter was approaching 
much faster than she expected. 

Once the windows were clean, she went inside to shower. The 
warm water felt good against her skin. Afterwards, smelling of 
her favourite peach bodywash, she put on her flannel nighty, 
made herself a cup of hot chocolate and went to check out the 
news. Satisfied that nothing momentous had occurred in the 
world in the last few hours, she began flipping channels. `When 
Harry Met Sally' was on but just going to a commercial. There 
was another re-run of `The Brady Bunch' and then she caught the 
tail-end of Rick Rogers, sports commentator for LNN, saying 
that on a night like this Metropolis really needed a domed 
stadium. His colleague, Jim Halston, agreed as the camera 
zoomed in on the fans sitting in the stands cuddled up in warm 
blankets. 

Lois gasped. There, in the stands, huddled under a blanket 
were...Clark and Mayson. She'd recognize Clark anywhere. Mayson 
was leaning in to kiss him, that pushy hussy. 

"I don't know, Rick. It looks like some guys know how to take 
advantage of the cold weather," Halston commented. 

Snapping off the TV, Lois stomped to her laptop and got back to 
work. 

********** 

After the game, even though the weather had turned colder, 
Mayson suggested that they take a walk to a cafe near her 
apartment. They spent a long time sitting at a quiet table at 
the back drinking coffee, replaying the highlights of the game, 
and just talking. Once they had warmed up, they felt prepared 
to walk to Mayson's apartment. They continued talking about 
their jobs, about the way the media shaped the public's 
opinion, how the justice system helped make the world a better 
place. It was at that time, while Clark held her hand, that he 
offered that Superman also tried to make the world a better 
place. 

"Superman flew in and he offered us hope," she said calmly, 
"that he would save the day whether it was a natural disaster 
or a man-made one. Then, all of a sudden, he was gone, and when 
he left, the hope that he represented left with him. He said 
that he had come to help, to fight for truth and justice, but 
once he came back, we realized that we couldn't depend on him. 
He promised things that were beyond his capabilities." 

"But Superman is only one man. He can only be in one place at a 
time, and as a result, there will always be people who won't be 
helped." 

"You're missing the point, Clark. Once we know that Superman 
isn't dependable, then he can't be the tower of virtue that he 
pretends to be. We have to be realistic and take him down from 
the pedestal on which we've placed him." Mayson had put her 
cold hands into Clark's, who rubbed them with his own. It 
didn't surprise him that he wasn't tempted to use his heat 
vision to warm them up. 

"Let's not talk about Superman," Mayson suggested. "He's not my 
favourite topic of conversation while I'm out on a date." 

Clark felt comfortable with that because he found that, on this 
one topic, Mayson was myopic. And if she felt so much antipathy 
toward his other self, he wasn't sure that he could or even 
wanted to change her mind. She had left the logic that she 
normally showed behind, using emotion instead to govern her 
ideas. 

"I read the newspaper clippings about your family," he said 
instead. "I hope you don't mind." 

"No." Mayson said. "There isn't too much in the paper because 
it was an open and shut case." 

"Were you close to your parents?" he asked. 

"Yes, as close as parents and kids get. When I was a little 
girl, I doted on my father. I thought he was the most wonderful 
person. He used to take me to work and show off his bright-eyed 
daughter to his associates at LexComm where he worked as a 
computer engineer. He'd make up all these programs for me to 
play with, and his co-workers used to try to trick me with 
computerized chess and scrabble games. When I got older, a 
teenager, I thought that my father wasn't as perfect as I 
thought. He had faults, made some bad decisions. You know the 
regular things. Sometimes I felt that he wouldn't let me live 
my own life. But, I loved him a lot." 

Clark looked over at Mayson. She talked freely about her 
parents as if she had been longing to do so for quite a while 
but didn't have anyone to listen. 

"Tell me about your mother." 

"She was great. I loved my mom a lot, especially when I got 
past those difficult teen years. She worked as an accountant 
for a large law firm. I resented that when I was younger 
because I was a latch-key kid, but I later realized that being 
at home with only Tom made me more independent, made me the 
person I am now. Before I hadn't been assertive enough, I had 
let them make decisions. When I went away to college, I 
realized that my father and mother were okay. The problem was 
mine. I had been a strong-willed, rebellious teenager making 
their lives more difficult. After I came home, we found a 
comfortable middle road to live on." 

"They must have been proud of you." 

"Yes, they were." She smiled. "It was nice that they had told 
me many times before they were killed that they were proud of 
me and Tom." Mayson walked in silence for a few minutes. The 
traffic rushed past them; the occasional horn broke the 
tranquility. "I miss them," she whispered more to herself than 
to Clark. 

The wind picked up, blowing some leaves and some paper in the 
air. Clark put his arm around Mayson and drew her closer to 
him. "It's getting colder. Let me take you home." 

At her door, Mayson invited Clark for coffee. He apologized 
that it was getting late and he had an early start the next 
morning. 

"I guess I spent the whole evening jabbering at you." 

"I enjoyed tonight, Mayson. The Tigers won the football game, 
the company was witty and interesting, and beautiful, and you 
weren't jabbering." He watched Mayson smile and blush. She had 
a beautiful smile. She moved nearer, put her hands on his 
shoulders and leaned in for a kiss. 

"Are you sure you don't want to come in?" she asked 
breathlessly when they had broken the kiss. 

"Not tonight, Mayson. I really have to go." He squeezed her 
hand and slowly walked away from her apartment door. "Good-
night, Mayson." 

At home, getting ready for bed, Clark wanted to kick himself. 
Why was he leading Mayson on? What was the point? But when he 
had kissed her, twice, he was surprised that he had liked it. 
Although, he admitted to himself, it was not like kissing Lois. 
It wasn't even like holding Lois. He remembered holding after 
she had fallen in the Bayside apartment. He could still feel 
her arms clutching him, her hair under his chin, her heart beat 
slowing down as she became calmer. But Lois had made it very 
clear to him, over and over again, that she was happy being his 
best friend. She was not the only woman in the world. At least, 
Mayson wanted to be with him romantically. He didn't feel as if 
he were foisting himself on her or waiting on the sidelines 
like a panting puppy. Yes, going out with Mayson had been very 
pleasant...as long as she didn't know that he was Superman. 

He had been surprised to learn that her father worked for 
LexComm. That organization, now with Franklin Stern at the helm 
and renamed Metrotek, was in charge of the computer technology 
that linked business and banking interests in Metropolis and 
other parts of the eastern United States. It also pioneered a 
lot of the wide area network systems that held big corporations 
and institutions together. Even the Daily Planet's computer 
system had been developed by LexComm. 

On hearing that Paul Drake had worked for Luthor, Clark's 
internal suspicion meter went soaring. He remembered that at 
the time of Drake's death, Luthor was building Space Station 
Luthor to replace the Prometheus Station. LexComm computers 
were ubiquitous in all aspects of industry and business in the 
city. If Clark was correct and Luthor had been responsible for 
tampering with the coolant devices on the Messenger, then 
perhaps, his computer engineers at LexComm might have had a 
hand in sabotaging the Messenger. Perhaps Drake knew about that 
giving Luthor a reason to murder him. 

Clark shook his head. That suspicion meter, he decided, was out 
of control. Mayson had said that the murderers were found, 
dead, with the stolen goods in their burnt out car. Would it 
make a difference? Luthor couldn't be tried for it and the case 
would open wounds for both Mayson and Lois. Proving that Luthor 
was responsible for four more deaths was overkill. The case was 
closed. Why was he looking for another nail to hammer into 
Luthor's coffin? Like the thugs who had killed the Drakes, 
Luthor's case and his coffin were closed. 

And even if he was right about Luthor being involved in the 
Drake deaths, that was irrelevant as far as Lois being angry 
with him, well Superman, for not sharing with her what he knew 
about Luthor, for not telling her the whole truth. He had told 
her several times, as himself, to be wary of Lex Luthor. She 
had chosen to ignore him. 

He hadn't seen Lois in his Superman guise since the night of 
the charity ball, but he wasn't looking forward to the moment 
when he would. It was probably better to be invisible than to 
have Lois openly mad at him. But, if he wanted to have any kind 
of relationship with Lois, then she would have to forgive 
Superman for his error of omission, his big error of omission. 
And why was he thinking about a relationship with Lois if he 
was dating Mayson? 

Clark decided that he did want to look into LexComm and Paul 
Drake's role in it. Perhaps Perry would consider a story about 
the legal transition of Luthor`s companies after his death. 
Clark would suggest starting with Metrotek. That would give him 
time to look into the Drake murders. 

***************** 

Lois stomped off the elevator the next morning. It had 
definitely not started well. After finally falling asleep in 
the early hours of the morning, she woke up late for work, and 
then, while putting water into the coffee pot, she accidentally 
knocked it against the faucet and cracked it. She then spent 
her precious time picking up the broken glass from the sink. As 
if that wasn't enough, she was delayed because of an unusual 
build up of traffic en route to work. Apparently, an older man 
had a seizure and his car went out of control. Sitting in the 
resultant back up, she saw Superman fly in and take control of 
the situation. For the first time in her career, she remained 
in her Jeep and avoided the superhero, in the end, losing out 
on an interview with him. His save would go unheeded by the 
Daily Planet. 

The problem was that she knew exactly why she hadn't approached 
Superman to get an interview. She was mad at him, and she 
wasn't sure that she wanted to speak to him. Once more she 
thought about his attitude toward her. The same argument went 
through her head: he suspected that Lex was not what he 
appeared to be, and even though Superman knew that Lois was 
going to marry him, and that she would be upset to learn that 
he was a criminal, Superman failed to tell her. He was wrong 
not to tell her. Saying that Clark had told her shouldn't let 
him off the hook. She might admit that she was wrong in not 
trusting Clark's motives for telling her, but Superman left her 
in the position where she made a bad decision about marrying 
Lex because she didn't know all the background. She wouldn't 
have accepted Lex's proposal if she had known that he was a 
crook... Lois gasped. Did that mean that Superman thought so 
little of her that he thought that she would marry Lex even if 
she knew about his criminal activities? No. That wasn't 
important: that Superman had hurt her was. She was definitely 
mad at the superhero. And she knew that she did mad well. 
Nonetheless, she realized that she had to look at her 
relationship with the Man of Steel realistically. She couldn't 
let good stories fly by her just because of her personal 
resentment. She would act like a professional next time she saw 
him in a newsworthy situation. 

And then there was Clark... 

Lois sat at her desk reviewing her notes from the evening 
before. She had to find the identity of the men who were 
pushing Stan and Al around, and she had to find the kind of 
business in which they were involved. That would take time 
and... 

"Lois?" 

"Whaaat?" she asked, throwing her arms in the air and knocking 
the coffee out of Clark's hands. Hot coffee trickled down her 
arm, running under the sleeves of her blouse. She pulled wads 
of tissue from the box on her desk and began wiping her arm. 
"What the heck do you think you're doing?" she asked. "That 
stuff is hot! And my blouse..."She turned around to look at a 
wide-eyed Clark who was standing behind her, holding a coffee 
mug in each hand, his jacket, tie and shirt covered in the 
remainder of the coffee. 

"Sorry," she said, grabbing another fistful of tissues and 
dabbing at his wet clothing. But her mood suddenly changed and 
she turned on her partner. "Kent, why are you sneaking up 
behind me?" 

"Sneaking? I usually bring you coffee in the morning." 

"You're supposed to announce your arrival, not scare me half to 
death." She stood up and faced him. "What were you thinking?" 
But before he could say anything, Lois plowed on. "Oh! 
Thinking. No. You haven't been thinking with your head lately, 
have you? Nope. Didn't look like it last night when you 
couldn't keep your hands off Mayson Drake on national 
television. Nope. Your mind must be totally elsewhere, that's 
for sure..." 

"Lois, what are you talking about?" Clark asked, lowering 
Lois's flailing arms to her side. 

"Last night. On television. For the whole world to see. Get a 
grip, Kent. The world doesn't have to know about your private 
life." 

Clark, still trying to figure out what she was talking about, 
watched Lois. She pushed her finger at his damp jacket and 
explained. "I was flipping channels after the news and watched 
you kissing Mayson at the football game." 

"Oh," Clark said thoughtfully, "And that was something bad?" 

"Yes...No. It just wasn't appropriate. You're not horny little 
teenagers." 

"You're jealous." 

"No, I'm not. Get a life, Kent." 

"I've got a life, Lois. I'm the one who was out on a date last 
night. You're the one who was flipping channels." 

"Right. If you call going out with Mayson Drake a life." 
Turning around, she sat back at her desk. "We have work to do, 
and I have to tell you what I learned after you left 
yesterday." 

Clark glared at Lois. Whatever else was going on, it was 
obvious to him that Lois was upset about his date with Mayson 
and the fact that she had seen them kissing on television. She 
wouldn't admit it, but she was jealous. Clark decided that he 
liked that. Maybe Lois saw him as more than just the friend she 
claimed he was. He'd think about that later; now they had a 
mystery to solve. 

After Lois shared what Carla had told her the previous evening, 
the two reporters realized that they now needed to find out 
what Stan and Al Rossi knew that had gotten them killed and who 
the two men were who probably killed them. Clark thought that 
discussion lacked their usual comfortable volleying of ideas 
and he was relieved when Jimmy approached them grinning. 

"Do you guys want to know what I found out? 

"Of course," answered Lois, having no patience for Jimmy's 
guessing game. "Spill." 

"Well, Abbott was the management company that Stan and Al Rossi 
owned." 

"We knew that, Jimmy." 

"Okay. Did you know that Bennett Realty owned the properties 
that the Rossis managed." 

"Yes, we knew that yesterday. Get to the point." 

"Bennett was selling a lot of property to Campbell-Thompson 
Development which is a construction company building mega-
stores and mega-malls as well as office complexes all over the 
city. I did a land-title search for some of their properties 
and many of the properties were managed by Abbott before 
Campbell-Thompson bought them." 

"Were they owned by Bennett first?" asked Clark. 

"No. There're a variety of owners. But somehow the Rossi 
brothers have managed about fifty per cent of the properties." 

"So?" 

"Don't you get it, Lois?" Clark asked. "There must be some 
connection between the Rossi brothers and Campbell-Thompson." 

"So?" 

"Were all the properties in poor condition?" 

"Hard to tell on a land-title search. There were some 
properties with liens on them, but the prices were low compared 
to other properties in the area sold at the same time." 

"Are you saying that the Rossis neglected the properties to 
drive down the value for Campbell-Thompson to buy at bargain 
basement prices?" asked Lois. 

"That's what it seems like to me," said Jimmy. 

"Our next step..." Clark stated. 

"...is to visit Abbott Management's office and look at their 
files. We can do that today, and then tonight we can check out 
Campbell-Thompson." 

"We can't do that, Lois." 

"Why not?" 

"Because it's breaking and entering." 

"We won't break anything. Come on, Clark. We have work to do." 

************* 

Clark reluctantly followed Lois to Abbott Management where they 
found a young woman who looked like a recent high school 
graduate on the phone, filing her nails. 

"No, Mom, I don't know what I'm supposed to do...I finished up 
my regular work, and now I haven't heard from anyone...I guess 
I'll stay here until five and then I'll lock up and go home... 
Mom, I gotta go. Some people just came in...See ya." 

Lois nudged Clark, whispering, "Play along." 

"Hi," she said, raising her voice as if she was expected to say 
the girl's name but couldn't remember it. 

"Jeannie." 

"Right. Jeannie. My partner and I are from Bennett Realty and 
we're supposed to organize the files before they get moved over 
to our head office." Lois pushed Clark's hand away. She knew 
that he wanted to stop her lying to get to the files, but she 
also knew that there was no other way. 

Jeannie looked uncertain. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to 
do. I'm new here. Stan never told me what do if him and Al got 
killed." 

Lois elbowed Clark in the ribs. He leaned forward and smiled as 
he said, "Hi," venting charm toward Jeannie. 

"Don't worry," Lois consoled her. "Where's the person who 
worked here before you." 

"Mrs. Sirkodar?" 

"Yes." 

"She got a better paying job with J.A. Macdonald Associates as 
a section manager. I'm alone here now." 

"That's all right, dear. We know exactly what to do. Since 
Abbott managed Bennett properties, the files belong to the 
company. We're not going to move them, we're only going to 
categorize them. Just show us where." 

Jeannie hadn't removed her eyes from Clark, who kept smiling at 
her. She quickly glanced at Lois, shook her head nervously, 
then returned her gaze to Clark. She smiled back at him. 

"I guess it's all right." She stood. "Follow me. I'll take you 
into Mr. Rossi's office." She led them into a large room which 
contained two desks, some office chairs and a row of filing 
cabinets. 

"Thank you," Clark said, as he put his hand on Jeannie's back 
and led her toward the door they had just entered. "We'll take 
care of everything from this end." 

Jeannie beamed as she looked up at his face. "No problem. If 
you need anything else, just shout." She kept staring as he 
gently closed the door between them. 

"Wow!" she said. 

"I'm not happy with what we just did there, Lois." 

"We're in, aren't we?" Lois saw Clark staring at the door that 
he had closed. "It's not illegal, and we didn't break in. Come 
on. We've got work to do." 

"Semantics," Clark muttered. 

Lois and Clark took their time examining the room. Clark 
started with what he soon learned was Al's desk. The top drawer 
contained racing forms with horses circled in different races. 
Al's desk calendar listed the horses the he had bet on or that 
he planned to bet on. Although Al had accumulated a stack of 
complaint letters, it was obvious from searching his desk that 
Al's first interest wasn't the management business at all. 

Stan's desk was a little more interesting. He had several 
ledger books in his bottom drawer. While Lois's back was to 
him, Clark skimmed through them very quickly. The first few 
showed accounts receivable and payable for the various 
properties that Abbott managed. The fourth ledger that he found 
was more interesting. It contained a listing of addresses, 
dates and cash figures. When he pointed it out to Lois, she 
reached in her satchel and handed him her camera. Clark snapped 
photographs of the pages in the ledger. Back at the Planet, he 
and Lois would find the significance of the amounts and the 
dates. 

Meanwhile, Lois found that many of the files were organized by 
address. She looked up the one for 2047 Bayside Avenue. She 
photographed the file and then found the folder for another 
apartment complex. She photographed that one so that she could 
compare the differences. 

They managed to work for about an hour when Clark heard voices 
other than Jeannie's prattling on the phone with her friends. 
"Lois, shh," he warned, signalling her to put the camera away. 

"What?" she whispered back, instinctively following his non-
verbal instruction. 

"Someone's coming." 

"Who?" 

Before Clark could answer, the door opened and Inspector 
Henderson walked in. He eyed the occupants of the room and 
guffawed. 

"Lane and Kent. Why am I not surprised?" 

"Inspector," said Clark. 

"Henderson," said Lois. "It's about time you got here." 

"Lane, this is a murder investigation. I could have the two of 
you up before a judge for tampering with the evidence and..." 

"Yes, you could Inspector," Clark interrupted, "but you know 
us. We're after the same thing." 

"I know, but I wish you would do your real jobs, so that I 
could do mine." He looked around the room. At least whatever 
they did was done neatly. "Do you have anything to share?" 

Lois stared at Clark, raising her eyebrows. "No nothing. Looks 
like it's all business to me. What do you say, Clark?" 

"Al's heavy into gambling on the horses. No indication if he's 
a loser or a winner. Stan looks like he's the one with the 
business sense. You'll find ledgers in the bottom drawer, but 
you'll probably need an accountant to go over them." 

"Thank you, Clark. That was helpful. Now, I'd like the two of 
you to get out of here, or I'll be talking to the DA." 

"Thanks, Bill. Let us know what you find." 

"And you two let me know what you learn from today's little 
escapade. If that child who calls herself a receptionist hadn't 
let you in, I would call this a B and E." 

***************** 

Not more than an hour later, Perry joined Lois, Clark and Jimmy 
in the conference room where the reporters were looking over 
the pictures that Jimmy had developed. The editor examined the 
copies of the Abbott files, then spread them out on the table. 

"Tell me what you see here," he ordered. 

"It looks like Stan and Al profited personally from the money 
they saved by not attending to the buildings, but there's no 
evidence that the people at Bennett were aware of what was 
going on," explained Lois. 

"What is most interesting is that after we had Jimmy pull 
together his research from land- titles, we figured out that 
Stan and Al were neglecting the buildings so that Bennett had 
to sell them off at a lower price. Repairs and renovations 
would be too costly for them, or for anyone else," Clark added. 
"The most revealing part is that the day after a Bennett 
property was sold, Abbott got a hefty pay cheque." 

"When we compared that to other dates in the ledger, it seemed 
that with each property sold, whether it was owned by Bennett 
or not, Abbott got a pay cheque." 

"Obviously some kind of kickback," said Jimmy. 

"That's what it looks like, son," said Perry. "So do you know 
where the kickbacks are coming from?" 

"We can only guess at this time," said Clark. "Campbell-
Thompson Development bought up the land and has started some 
building projects on them or is waiting for zoning by- laws to 
change in order to build." 

"That's a mighty big company. You think that they're in cahoots 
with the Rossis?" Perry asked. 

"Very likely," Lois answered. "CTD has been putting up a lot of 
Costmarts all over the country, as well as here in Metropolis. 
That's a big expenditure." 

"And," added Clark, "we believe that Costmart is linked to 
Intergang." 

"That's ridiculous. I've known Bill Church for years, and he's 
an honest man." 

"That's what people believed about Lex Luthor, too," Lois 
muttered under her breath. She wasn't surprised when she felt 
Clark's hand lightly touch her shoulder. 

"Okay, boys and girls, what's your next move then?" 

Clark gathered the papers on the desk. "I think an interview 
with Bill Church is in order." 

"Under what pretext?" 

Clark looked at Lois for guidance. She was flipping through 
some pages that he hadn't collected. "Chief, I think that Clark 
and I should be investigating a series on how big business, 
like Costmart, benefits the city." 

"You've got it." 

When Lois returned from making an appointment with Church for 
early the next morning, she pulled Clark aside, whispering to 
him, "I think we should check out Campbell-Thompson's offices 
and see what we can find." 

"Lois?" 

"What?" 

"It won't be as easy getting in there as it was getting past 
Jeannie. We were lucky that she was so young and naive." 

"Clark, how else are we going to find out what's really going 
on? Do you think that Church will tell us?" 

"No." 

"So?" 

"It's dangerous, and it's illegal." 

"Has that ever stopped us?" 

"It should." 

"But it won't. Are you coming with me or do you have a hot date 
tonight?" 

"I'll have to forego any hot date just in case I have to 
protect you from yourself." 

Lois scowled at Clark. He always had a ready comeback for her 
snide remarks. Lois, herself, was relieved that Clark was 
coming with her. Although she was prepared to do some midnight 
research on her own, she was getting used to having her partner 
tag along. 

**************** 

Clark scrutinized his apartment and the streets leading to it 
before he landed on his balcony He had a few minutes before 
Lois was scheduled to pick him up to go to CTD's site. He had 
surveyed the construction area on his routine flight over the 
city. Unlike most corporations, the office was not in a 
permanent building, but in a mobile structure on a construction 
site in the middle of LeVine, a northern suburb of Metropolis. 
The area included subdivisions and a large open area that would 
eventually house box stores, including a Costmart. There was a 
single night watchman on a golf-cart driving through the site. 
Breaking in, once they got the watchman's schedule, would not 
be hard. 

He wondered for a moment what Lois would think if she knew that 
he had reconnoitered the area already. Well, it didn't matter, 
he thought. He pulled out a pair of black jeans and a black 
sweater and spun into them. As usual, Lois was right on time. 
He ran up the three steps, locked his front door and went out 
to meet her. 

She too was dressed in black clothing, her hair tied back in a 
pony-tail. Without make-up, she looked fresh, younger than 
usual. She had a healthy glow. The excitement of the chase, he 
thought. He wished he could make her look that happy. 

He hopped into the car and they drove off to the construction 
site. Without daytime traffic causing snarls and hold-ups, it 
was a relatively fast trip. She parked the car, as they had 
planned, in a housing subdivision a half a mile south of the 
site. They walked, Lois setting the pace. 

Closer to the construction, they hid behind a stack of bricks 
and planned their strategy. Skeletons of residential houses 
spread out behind them on plotted lots. The steel frame of a 
large warehouse-type edifice stood in front of them. The north 
wall of the structure was standing. To their right was one 
large trailer while on the other side of the open, dug up field 
was a second one with a light on. 

"That's probably where a night watchman is," whispered Lois. 

They waited for a few minutes, but saw no movement. Clark 
lowered his glasses and scanned the trailer. Lois was right. 
The night watchman was in the trailer drinking from a mug and 
filling out what looked like a check-list. Clark looked into a 
cabinet where two semi-automatic guns lay. The watchman put 
down the mug, picked up a cell phone, and exited the trailer. 
Clark tapped Lois on the shoulder and pointed to the guard who 
was making his way to the housing development. 

"It'll probably take him at least a half an hour to get back. 
Now's the time to go," he whispered. 

"I'll take the trailer on my right; you go for the night 
watchman's." She indicated the two trailers. 

Knowing where the guns were and having checked the area out 
earlier, Clark nodded his head in agreement. Starting to move 
to his left, he stopped for a moment to make sure that Lois 
wasn't having any problems. She moved deftly toward the office 
trailer. He stepped quickly toward his objective, stopping 
frequently to listen for Lois's even breathing and for any 
danger. On reaching the trailer, Clark could see that Lois was 
almost at hers. He opened the door, using the lock-picking 
tools that Lois had bought for his last birthday, and went in. 
He moved directly to the cupboard where he took out the weapons 
and jammed the pins, just in case someone would try to use 
them. He then began to look around. In front of him, on a coat 
tree, near the night watchmen's desk, was a tan trenchcoat. He 
looked through its pockets only to find a restaurant receipt, a 
gum wrapper, and a pair of hardened gloves. When he put the 
contents back into the pockets he noticed that it had a button 
missing from its cuff. He examined the other buttons carefully. 
They were similar to the one from 2047 Bayside Avenue's laundry 
room. He retrieved the gloves, slipping them in his pocket. 

He forced his excitement down and continued to look around in a 
systematic fashion until he was interrupted by an abrupt 
inhalation of breath and then the rapid beating of a heart- -
Lois's heart. He lowered his glasses and peered into the second 
trailer. Lois was standing inside, her back against the wall, 
very slowly inching her way toward the door. In front of her 
was a snarling Doberman Pinscher about to leap. Knowing that 
Clark Kent couldn't get to her fast enough, he spun and, within 
a second, Superman was in the trailer shielding Lois from her 
attacker. Keeping himself between Lois and the dog, he slowly 
walked her out of the trailer, then flew her back to the Jeep. 

Lois looked at Superman. As thankful as she was to him for 
getting her out of what could have been a very tense situation 
with an unfriendly dog, she couldn't forget that he had 
betrayed her. But she also remembered that she promised herself 
that she would be professional with him. 

"That dog was scary," she said, trying very hard to keep the 
quiver out of her voice. "Thanks." She stepped back from the 
superhero. 

"You're welcome...again." 

"You seem to get me out of a lot of scrapes." 

"Just being of service," he said. "But I wish you wouldn't get 
into these scrapes. You have to be more careful." 

"I'm just doing my job the best way I know." 

"There are other ways, less dangerous." 

"And who are you to tell me how to do my job?" Was the irony 
lost on Superman? He seemed to be around when she was in 
physical danger but missed the emotional danger altogether. 

"I don't want you to get hurt." 

"Right!" Lois said, not even trying to hold back the sarcasm. 

Superman raised his eyebrows. Lois realized that he just didn't 
get it. She forced herself not to allow his confused expression 
to sway her. She was angry, and for a very good reason. Her 
mind skipped back to the snooping she and Clark... 

"Clark!" she said, remembering her partner. 

"What about him?" 

"He's at the other trailer. He'll be looking for me." 

"Don't worry. I'll go back and send him over here," he said 
before taking off in the air. 

No matter how she felt about Superman, no matter how angry, he 
still managed to save her. And yet, when her whole life was 
about to fall off the precipice of reason, he was nowhere to be 
seen. He just assumed that being told by Clark to be wary of 
Lex was enough. But this wasn't just a matter of respecting her 
decision. Superman knew Lex's capabilities and treachery. No, 
she had a right to be angry with him, and yet he was such an 
important part of her life. That dog could have done 
considerable damage and there was no way that Clark could have 
reached her in time. She wondered at times if she'd still be 
alive if it hadn't been for Superman. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when Clark arrived at the Jeep. 
He was both concerned and excited. After Lois told him about 
the attack dog, and that she didn't have time to find anything 
in the trailer other than the computer which she hadn't managed 
to start, he told her that Superman had closed up the trailer, 
leaving the confused dog in it. He, on the other hand, had 
lucked out. He had found the trenchcoat with the missing button 
and a pair of very stiff gloves that he would turn over to 
Henderson. 

They decided that they would pay a daytime visit to the 
construction site, but first Lois allowed Clark to drive her 
home. She was more shaken up than she expected after her 
confrontation with the guard dog. She didn't argue with Clark 
when he escorted her to her apartment. Instead, after he had 
asked her a half a dozen times if she was all right and she 
told him emphatically that she was, he gave her a reassuring 
hug and left. 

At home, getting ready for bed, she admitted to herself that 
she was more shaken than she let Clark know. It wasn't only the 
dog that upset her, it was also Superman. She didn't know how 
she would get over her feelings of betrayal. Why had she put 
this man on a pedestal, this god in tights, when he proved 
himself to be as unfeeling and unthinking as any other man? 
Like other men, he tried to tell her what to do, how to do her 
job, how to lead her life. At least Clark cared enough to warn 
her over and over again about Lex. She, in her most stubborn 
guise, failed to listen to him. It served her right in some 
ways, and she considered herself lucky that it was Clark, or at 
least her memories of him, who came back to her on the day of 
her aborted wedding and saved her from saying the shackling "I 
do". 

Clark had become a very important part of her life. Yes, he was 
her partner and her best friend, but she realized that he was 
more. When she first knew him, he was a hindrance, a country 
yokel trying to make it in the big city. But, she knew almost 
immediately, although she wouldn't admit it to him, that he was 
bright, witty and worldly. He wouldn't get eaten up in the big 
city. Later on, he became her indispensable partner. She didn't 
know exactly when that happened, perhaps in Smallville. 
Watching Trask aim his revolver at Clark scared her. The relief 
she felt when Trask sank into the pond was palpable. From that 
time on, she felt that her relationship with Clark had changed 
until she had brushed off his admission of love for her and 
accepted Lex's proposal. What a mistake! To make matters worse, 
he withdrew his disclosure, before she could tell him that she 
also cared for him, that she loved him. 

What would she do without Clark, whose apartment she ran to 
when she needed someone to talk to, whose strong arms were 
available whenever she needed them, whose voice of reason 
calmly kept many of her off-the-wall impulses down, whose mind 
and imagination kept up with her, and she had to admit, even 
surpassed her at times, and whose heart had drawn hers in. Too 
late, she thought. Just as she finally admitted that she saw 
her partner in a different light, he was involved with another 
woman. Lois could kick herself for being so stupid. 

She lay down in her bed, taking her teddy bear that Clark had 
won at the Smallville Corn Festival. "Good night, Clark," she 
whispered to the small stuffed toy as she hugged it closer to 
her. 

*************** 

After Clark dropped Lois off at home, he flew a patrol around 
the city and, seeing that it was a quiet night, made his way to 
back to his desk at the Daily Planet. He decided to research 
Paul Drake's role at LexComm. After hours of reading reports, 
Clark was disappointed. Mayson's father seemed to be a straight 
arrow. He was a sharp engineer coming up with some very 
innovative ways of expanding telecommunications from which 
LexComm had profited. But Clark couldn't find anything illegal. 
He realized that Luthor was very smart, covering up his 
illegitimate activities with legitimate ones, but he knew that 
if he traced the right threads he could make the necessary 
connections that would show how Drake was Luthor's pawn. On the 
other hand, perhaps Drake was one of the legitimate workers, 
but had uncovered nefarious activities. Clark did a little more 
digging about other projects coming out of LexComm. Nothing 
satisfied his curiosity. The only explanation, then, was that 
Drake had knowledge that was outside the ken of Clark's area of 
expertise. 

Frustrated, Clark left the Planet building by the roof and took 
off into the cool night air. 

Lois was right. Who was he to tell her how to do her job, if he 
wasn't fulfilling his role as a friend. He could have gone to 
Lois, as Superman, and told her his suspicions. She would have 
believed Superman. He could have told her that night when she 
asked him if they had a future. He could have said the same 
"No" while at the same time warning her about Luthor. 

He knew exactly why he hadn't. That night, he had been hurt and 
angry. He could have spoken to Lois as the wedding date drew 
nearer...but Clark had challenged her to investigate. Lois 
hadn't taken up the challenge; instead, she blindly went ahead 
with her wedding plans. That was in the past. Now, he just had 
to figure out what to do next. 

He circled the city one more time before heading for bed. 

**************** Lois was frustrated. Traffic was almost at a 
stand-still. The reporter on the local radio station announced 
that a jack-knifed tractor-trailer on the I-83 necessitated the 
rerouting of traffic through the city's core. "Tell me 
something I don't know," Lois muttered. She sat behind the 
wheel, having given up trying to weave her way ahead, grumbling 
about how futile the day had been so far. Her interview with 
Bill Church had revealed nothing new at all. Church, brazenly 
sitting back in his Brooks Brothers gray suit playing with a 
Cuban cigar between his manicured fingernails, happily 
explained the working of land acquisitions, the treachery of 
making one's way through the labyrinth created by city 
bureaucracy, zoning by-laws and the committee of adjustments, 
and the up and downs of dealing with a variety of tradesmen and 
unions. But, in the end, the man had said nothing new or 
illuminating. She was no further ahead than when she had 
entered his office. 

Meanwhile, Clark hadn't said anything. Instead, he had played 
with his glasses and wandered around the office, gazing at the 
paintings on the wall, peering out the window to the city below 
them, picking up the sculptures on the desk, browsing through 
the well stocked bar in one corner, and glancing through 
magazines on the coffee table in the centre of the office. When 
they had finally left Church's office, Clark had ambled over to 
the secretary who was typing something on her computer, and 
thanked her profusely for giving them access to Mr. Church. He 
had then flashed his prize-winning, full white- tooth smile at 
her. Lois could see the bimbo melt under his gaze. In the 
elevator, she told him that she might as well be working on her 
own, all the help he was during the interview. He just smiled 
that irritating all-knowing smile and shrugged his shoulders. 
When they were back in her Jeep, she asked him why he was 
sucking up to Miss Bimbo. He surprised her by saying that he 
had a chance to look at what she had been typing. A letter 
addressed to William Turner asking him to begin the acquisition 
of land around 2047 Bayside Avenue and to expedite the rezoning 
of the area. 

Reluctantly, Lois admitted that she was impressed with what 
Clark had accomplished. It was more than she had in her 
interview with Church. 

Afterwards, she had dropped Clark off at the courthouse where 
he said that he was meeting the assistant D.A. for lunch. She 
realized that it was not a business meeting that he was 
attending there, and she wondered, not for the first time, 
exactly what Clark's relationship with Mayson Drake was. And 
she realized that she was not happy with his going on a 
luncheon date with her. They had work to do, after all. 

No. That wasn't the reason, and she knew it. She didn't want 
Clark to see Mayson on a social basis, on a dating basis. 
Although she had told Perry that she knew she wouldn't lose 
Clark's friendship, she was worried that if he got involved 
with Mayson, her relationship with her partner would 
drastically change. And she liked their relationship exactly 
the way it was, didn't she? 

But now she had more important work to do. She entered a number 
on her cell phone. When she got a positive reply, she pulled a 
quick right into one of the side streets and threaded her way 
to the Metropolis Central Police Station parking lot. She 
needed to learn what more Henderson had found out about Stan 
and Al. 

*********** 

Watching the next couple in line, the hostess of the Roma Cafe 
knew that, even though the man and woman were dressed in 
business suits, they were not at the restaurant for a 
professional meeting. The attractive woman peered into the 
handsome man's eyes as if she never wanted to let go. The man's 
soft smile answered her unwavering gaze. The hostess led them 
to a table in a secluded corner of the restaurant where they 
could have some privacy. She knew a date when she saw one. 

"I don't have a lot of time for lunch today," Mayson said when 
the hostess left them with the menus. "I have to be back in 
court at two." 

"That's all right. I'll get you there on time," Clark reassured 
her. "Can you handle a glass of wine if you're going into 
court?" 

"Just one." 

They looked at the menu, quickly deciding on what to order. 
When the waiter came around, Clark ordered two glasses of white 
wine for them, a Greek salad for Mayson, and a cajun chicken 
sandwich with fries for himself. 

"Fries," Mayson said. "I'm jealous." 

"I usually order them so Lois can nibble..." Clark let the 
sentence trail off while he examined the pedigree of the 
cutlery. "Uh. I've been looking into LexComm." 

"LexComm? Why? It's been taken over by Metrotek." 

"I know, but I was wondering if your father's death could be 
related somehow to his having worked for Lex Luthor." 

"Are you implying that my father was doing something illegal?" 

"Uh...No. Not at all. But we know that whatever Luthor did, no 
matter if it had a bright, shiny surface, the deeper one would 
dig the darker it would get." 

Glaring at Clark, Mayson leaned back in her chair, crossed her 
arms over her chest and tried to control her breathing. "Why 
are you doing this?" 

"Mayson, after you told me about what happened to your parents, 
I looked up the story and saw the police files. Something in me 
is screaming that this wasn't an accidental shooting, a 
burglary gone bad." 

"The case is closed. The murderers are dead." 

"Mayson," Clark said, keeping his voice steady, "I looked up 
the records of the two men in the car. They were petty 
criminals with a long record of burglaries. They got caught 
fencing merchandise and were in jail several times. They 
weren't too smart." 

"So?" 

"They never used weapons of any kind." 

"They could have started carrying guns. MOs can change, you 
know." 

"But your father worked for Luthor. He might have known 
something." 

"My father, I'll have you know, was a good, honest man. He was 
a talented engineer who helped create some of the high tech 
communication systems that we have in this city today. He 
happened to have worked for the major communication system 
corporation in the state. The only game in town, as it were." 
She sat up straighter taking the glass of wine that the waiter 
had brought while they were talking. "I expected better of 
you," she whispered after she had drained the glass. "My father 
would not have stood for anything illegal going on." 

"Mayson..." Clark pleaded. 

When the waiter approached with their lunches, she ordered 
another glass of white wine. 

They ate in relative silence, commenting only on the food. 
Mayson was merely dabbling with her salad, picking at random 
lettuce leaves, moving them around on her plate before eating 
them. By the time Clark finished his sandwich and fries, Mayson 
had eaten less than half of her salad. 

"Mayson, I'm sorry," Clark said after the waiter had brought 
her a third glass of wine. "I didn't mean to imply that your 
father was crooked. It just doesn't make sense why four people 
would end up killed in what seemed to be a simple robbery. I 
can't seem to get this out of my head. Something doesn't feel 
right." 

Mayson picked up the glass of wine. Clark put his hand on hers 
before she could drink it. "You have to be in court soon," he 
said quietly as he waved the waiter over to bring them coffee. 

"Would you like some chocolate cake?" he asked Mayson while he 
was ordering coffee. 

"No," she said. "I don't like chocolate." 

The hostess watched the couple at the secluded table. The man 
was sitting forward in his seat, slowly sipping his coffee. The 
woman was leaning back in her chair looking at her hands which 
were playing with the coffee cup in front of her. She didn't 
look at the man. After a few minutes, the woman glanced at her 
watch, got up and walked away from the table. The man leaned 
back, motioned to the waiter for his bill, and sighed. This had 
not turned out to be the romantic lunch that the hostess had 
envisioned for these two. 

**************** Lois marched up to Detective Inspector William 
Henderson's desk. When the detective looked up, he smirked and 
announced to his fellow officers, "Batten down the hatches, 
men; Lane is here." 

"Very funny, Henderson." 

"How can I help you?" he asked in his usual non-committal 
monotone. 

Lois, pulling up a chair to his desk, leaned forward and said, 
"I need to know what you've found out about Stan and Al Rossi's 
deaths." 

"Not for public consumption yet." 

"Come on, Henderson, this is me, Lois." 

"Right. Ms prize-winning investigative reporter. That's the 
same as public knowledge." 

"Henderson," Lois whispered conspiratorially, "I'll show you 
mine if you show me yours." 

"And what is that supposed to mean?" 

"I have some information that might help you find the killers." 

"If you don't tell me, Lois, I can have you charged with 
withholding evidence," he whispered, mimicking her tone. 

"If you don't tell me, I can make you the most disliked man in 
Metropolis, where even your family...even your mother won't 
like you." 

"They don't like me already." 

Lois stared at the taciturn detective. Somehow he always seemed 
to win a face-off against her, but she also knew that he could 
be trusted. Well, maybe not completely, but she would get some 
information here. 

"All right. You know the button I found in the laundry room?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Well, Clark found the trenchcoat that was missing the same 
button. It was hanging in the security trailer at a CTD 
construction site." 

"How did he find that?" 

"Well, uh...mmm...we were looking...uh...for the night watchman 
when he saw it hanging in the trailer." 

"Right?" 

It amazed Lois that the man's face remained poker straight even 
though she knew that he knew that she was giving him an edited 
version of the truth. 

"Now, remember that I told you that I spoke to someone who saw 
two men in trenchcoats threatening Stan and Al." 

"Pretty circumstantial and flimsy at that." 

"I know, Henderson, but it does link CTD to the murders and 
fire. It's a beginning." 

"Yes, it is." Henderson pulled out a file from his on-going 
tray and opened it. "I had an officer go through Stan and Al's 
papers. They weren't very organized, but on a rough pad of 
paper, Stan had the draft of a letter. It wasn't addressed to 
anyone in particular, but it did have some interesting 
information. It looks like he was trying to coerce someone." 

Henderson passed the letter over to Lois, who glanced at it. 
"Interesting," she said. "So Stan knew that whoever the letter 
was for was planning to evict all the tenants and then sell off 
the building and that `whoever' was going to change the zoning 
by-laws for commercial structures. He was looking for a larger 
cut. I wonder if he sent the letter?" 

"That's what we're trying to find out, but there's no record of 
it on his computer." 

"Thanks, Henderson." Lois turned to leave. "Oh, by the way, 
Clark found these gloves in the pocket of the trenchcoat with 
the missing button. He suggests that you send them to your lab 
to have them analyzed." She reached into her purse and pulled 
out a baggy with the gloves in it. "Clark was careful when he 
picked them up." She handed him the baggy. 

"Good to see that you weren't planning