JUST ONE BAD DAY AWAY...
By Michael Haney  <hanemg@yahoo.com>
Rated: PG-13 for violence
Submitted: November 2004


*****************************************************************
Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.  Superman and 
all related characters are owned and copyrighted by DC Comics and 
Time-Warner.  This is a work of fan fiction and no profit was 
gained from its creation.
*****************************************************************

~Just One Bad Day Away~

The midday sun shone down brightly upon the Kansas countryside, 
providing the perfect temperature for a perfect summer day.  
Jonathan Kent took a break from his work installing a new section 
of fence along the property line of his farm and sat down on the 
tailgate of his old Ford pickup.  He opened his canteen and took 
a drink of water while he enjoyed the very mild weather and 
looked around the farm.  

Jonathan had grown up on this farm and had inherited ownership of 
it following his father's death several years ago.  A small smile 
graced his face as he sat there looking out over the fields.  He 
never ceased to gain a sense of peace when he was out alone 
somewhere on the farm performing some chore.  It had even become 
a sort of therapy for him over the past couple of years since he 
and Martha had been having difficulty conceiving.  Jonathan just 
wished he could share the peace he felt during these times with 
Martha.  

As he sat there contemplating this Jonathan's reverie was 
interrupted by the arrival of his neighbor, Carl Tackett, on 
horseback.

"Hey, Carl," Jonathan said greeting the man.  "I thought you'd be 
on your barn roof all day."

"Nah, too nice a day to be working.  I decided to take the day 
off and exercise old Tonto here." Carl replied, patting his 
horse.

Jonathan laughed.  "I'd have thought that a nice day would have 
been the best one to do roofing work."

"Not one as nice as this one.  You need to learn to stop and 
smell the roses sometime, Jonathan.  Otherwise, you'll spend all 
your life working and never get to appreciate the things you work 
for."

"You might be right, Carl, you might be right," Jonathan said.  
"Still, sometimes it's best to enjoy things after the work is 
done.  Never can tell, maybe a rainstorm could be coming just 
around the corner."

"Trust me, Jonathan," Carl said, shaking his head, "there's 
nothing bad going on anywhere in the universe on a day like 
today."

**********

Sweat dripped from the end of Jor-El's nose onto the warp core 
casing he was trying to fit into the small spacecraft.  For the 
hundredth time that hour, he wiped a lubricant-stained hand 
across his face to remove the sweat that blurred his vision.  He 
didn't need to check his chronometer to tell that the current 
groundquake had lasted longer than any of the previous ones.  It 
was the seventh one that morning and easily the longest yet. Only 
the engineering of the building made it possible for him to 
continue working despite the upheaval below.  

The ship on which he was now working was supposed to have been 
the test vehicle for his new warp drive, but the increase in 
seismic activity this morning had forced him to change his plans.  
He realized that he needed to abandon any hope of completing the 
larger craft and focus solely on making this smaller ship ready 
for an interstellar voyage.   

His world was ending.  

As Jor-El completed the last connection and closed the access 
panel, his attention was drawn by the cries of a small child.  
Turning around, he saw his wife, Lara, carrying their son toward 
him.  She was attempting to calm him, but was having little luck, 
as she herself was unable to stop crying.  Jor-El stopped for a 
moment and simply stared at his young wife and their child as she 
stopped near him and began to rock and sing softly trying to 
quiet the boy's fears.  

They had had so many dreams, he and Lara, and far too little time 
together though he felt as though he had known and loved her for 
an eternity.  The small child she held he loved still more, if 
that were possible.  He wanted to rant at the heavens for the 
unfairness of it all, but knew he didn't have time for the luxury 
of self-pity.  He was jousting against destiny today and the 
fates be damned he would not lose.  Not this.

He stepped toward his young family and embraced them both for the 
last time.  Looking into each other's eyes, the two spoke without 
the need for words and each drew strength from the other. Jor-El 
took his young son and placed him into the ship strapping the 
crying toddler into the acceleration chair.  He leaned forward 
and placed a kiss on the child's cheek and touched his forehead 
with his own lingering for a moment as he tried to control his 
emotions.  

"Rao be with you, my son," was his simple benediction before 
closing the canopy and joining his wife at the launch control.

An adjoining building suddenly collapsed as a fissure began to 
open on the far side of the street.  Jor-El ignored the 
pandemonium as he stood with one arm around Lara staring at the 
ship for a moment before speaking.

"Live," he said as he brought his fist down like a hammer on the 
launch button.

The ship's engines ignited and it sprang from the rooftop just as 
the fissure reached the bottom of the building, causing it to 
list sideways and begin to collapse in upon itself.


**********

The planet's atmosphere was quickly becoming choked with noxious 
smoke and fumes as more and more eruptions began to occur across 
its surface, opening new fissures and exposing the interior of 
the planet to the light of the sun.  The radiation from the 
unstable core of the planet caused the smoke to take on a 
greenish hue which, lit by the fires that now scoured the surface 
of the planet, caused the planet to glow a sickly green color as 
smoke filled the atmosphere. 

A tiny point of reflected light announced the exit of a tiny 
missile through the clouds.  As it reached breakaway speed, the 
picture was shattered by the sudden detonation of the planet.  
The sound of the detonation itself ripped through what was left 
of the planet's atmosphere, but was quickly rendered impotent as 
it was swallowed by the void of space muffling the death screams 
of billions of individuals into silence.  

The only witness to the incident was the young child, the last 
survivor of a once great civilization, who was the sole passenger 
of the small ship that struggled to outpace the rapidly spreading 
debris field.  The child screamed for his mother in a now dead 
language as the sound of debris hitting the hull of the craft 
echoed through the darkness around him. He continued his futile 
screams until exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep still 
gasping to catch his breath for his next tirade.  The craft's 
experimental warp engine whined as it tore a hole in the fabric 
of space and accelerated through the artificial wormhole toward a 
distant point in the Spiral Arm of the galaxy followed by several 
pieces of the green glowing remnants of a now-dead world. 

**********

The orphan from the stars grew to adolescence on a farm in the 
mid-western section of a continent located on a planet hundreds 
of light-years from the one of his birth.  Under the influence of 
his adopted world's yellow star his biology began to exhibit 
astounding advances.  His physical and mental development 
outstripped any imagined by the people of either his adopted 
world or the one of his birth.  Before he reached puberty, he was 
already more powerful than any being who had ever been born on a 
world whose history boasted the births of numerous powerful 
individuals.

His power, though, was tempered by lessons learned at the knee of 
two extraordinary people.  Jonathan and Martha Kent had wanted a 
child since the moment they had said "I do" to each other.  
Biology, however, had proven to be a barrier that even their love 
could not overcome.  After several years of trying, their doctor 
had been forced to tell them that conception simply was not 
possible.  The news had been crushing to the couple, but they had 
born the burden together and came out the stronger as both 
individuals and as a couple because of it.  After a difficult 
period of acceptance, the couple adjusted to the situation and 
began to continue their lives together.  Then fate stepped in to 
provide them with a child from the heavens and they named him 
Clark.

Because of their situation, or perhaps in spite of it, Jonathan 
and Martha proved to be the perfect parents for a demigod 
toddler.  They provided the perfect balance of patience, 
encouragement, and moral guidance.  The boy's nature provided the 
rest.  On that farm in Kansas, performing the everyday chores of 
the men and women who existed by the whims of nature, Clark 
learned the lessons that taught him to respect all life and its 
diversity.  He also came to the conclusion that a being such as 
himself had some level of responsibility not to waste the gifts 
given to him by the vagaries of fate and perhaps he owed it to 
his adopted world to utilize them for the greater good.   

Shortly before his thirteenth birthday, Clark approached his 
parents with his thoughts on how he could utilize his abilities.  
The three spent several evenings over supper discussing the 
matter and developing, discarding and refining plans.  Finally, 
all were in agreement though each was somewhat nervous in his or 
her own way about the outcome.  However, when Clark stepped out 
of his room for the first time wearing his brand new uniform of 
red, blue, and yellow, everything seemed right.

Clark took immediately to the role of superhero as if he was 
fulfilling the role that destiny had set for him.  Superboy 
rapidly became a defining symbol of altruism and an inspiration 
to the world.  Unfortunately, the more natural the role of 
Superboy grew the more unnatural the role of Clark Kent became.

In order to preserve his secret and maintain some measure of 
privacy and safety, it became necessary to differentiate between 
the two personas where the public was concerned.  To help gain 
the trust of the public, all three of the Kents agreed that 
Superboy should not wear a mask.  Openly showing his face would 
short-circuit many of the conspiracy theorists before they even 
started as it demonstrated that he had nothing to hide and meant 
that people wouldn't necessarily be looking for another identity 
as he was obviously not trying to hide his.  The trouble was 
that, if he didn't wear a mask, then how could they keep him for 
being recognized as Clark Kent of Smallville, Kansas?

To that end, a few months before Superboy made his public debut 
Clark Kent began wearing glasses and behaving a bit more timid 
and introverted.  The latter was not much of a change because, 
due to the nature of his secrets, Clark and the Kents tended to 
keep to themselves anyway.  They were friendly to everyone and 
would go out of their way to lend a hand to a neighbor, but 
didn't invite any "outsiders" into their own lives.  Timid, 
however, was not something in the young Kryptonian's natural 
instincts and was often a difficult character trait to swallow.  

Considering his incredible powers and astounding intellect, it 
was easy to forget that Clark was a teenager with all of the 
trials and tribulations attached.  Indeed, when in the role of 
Superboy the majority of the public treated him like an adult, 
which sometimes made the transition back to plain, ordinary Ol' 
Clark all the more difficult.  For Clark, pretending to be timid 
and having to suppress his natural tendencies and abilities for 
leadership half or more of the time was often a frustrating task.  
This became even more difficult when the thrill of being Superboy 
died down and Clark began to notice girls.  Especially the girl 
next door, Lana Lang.

Clark and Lana's friendship had been steadfast since childhood, 
but their romantic relationship over the years was on and off at 
best.  Often being more off than on.  The necessity of 
disappearing at a moment's notice in order to deal with some 
emergency coupled with usually inconvenient timing and an 
inability to explain that same disappearance more often than not 
led to arguments and vows on Lana's part never to agree to go out 
with Clark again.  Vows that Clark worked extremely hard to 
circumvent with every ounce of the "Kent charm" he could muster.

Lana usually gave into Clark because in truth she was interested 
and truly cared for him, but she tried each time to make it clear 
that she wanted a boyfriend and not just lip service to the idea.  
For his part, Clark wanted to be able to commit to Lana, but 
didn't yet feel comfortable enough to reveal his secrets.  Part 
of him realized that soon he would be faced with the choices of 
adulthood and even more responsibilities with his alter ego.  
None of his options seemed to offer much for a relationship and 
he was hesitant to burden Lana with the responsibilities inherent 
with knowing the full truth while not being able to offer her a 
true future together.  

But youth tends to lend itself to the belief that there will 
always be time to worry about things later, so when Clark screwed 
up yet another date with Lana he spent the next several weeks 
trying to convince her to give him yet *another* chance.  He 
would not, he swore, mess up Homecoming.

The day of the dance, Clark spent a large part of his time 
scanning the news for reports of any incidents that might require 
his attention in the hopes that he could fix things quickly 
should they arise and hopefully leave his night free.  Jonathan, 
seeing that any hopes of getting Clark's attention long enough to 
get any work done was fruitless, shoved him out the door with a 
laugh and told him to go on patrol so at least he would be of use 
to someone.

It seemed, however, like the entire world was at peace and Clark 
had performed only few interventions by the time he returned home 
to start getting ready.  

Martha looked up at her son coming down the stairs in his rented 
tux and remarked, "My word, Clark, what are you dressed up for?  
Are you going someplace?" before continuing to set the table for 
dinner.

As his footsteps faltered and stopped on the staircase Martha 
looked up into his dumbfounded expression and deadpanned, "Oh, 
that's right, the Homecoming dance.  I had completely forgotten 
because you hadn't really talked about it this week."

"Ha, ha," Clark said, realizing he was being ribbed and 
continuing down the stairs.  "I haven't talked about it that 
much."

 "No," Martha said, "I guess you really haven't.  Only the few 
times you've come through the front door or came down the stairs, 
or..."

"I get the picture, Mom," Clark said with a grin.

"I was sure you would, son," Martha replied, unsuccessfully 
masking a grin as she continued about her business in the 
kitchen.

"Where's Dad?" Clark asked.

"Oh, he took the truck to get some feed at the store."

"The truck?! But I'm supposed to..." Clark stopped when he saw 
Martha's shoulders shaking with laughter as she kept her back to 
him.

 "You're having wa-ay too much fun with this," Clark said with a 
sour look on his face.

 "I'm sorry, son," Martha said, "but I haven't seen you this 
excited since you first put on your costume, and maybe not even 
then."

"Uniform," Clark corrected automatically and his expression 
soured even more as Martha's laughter increased to the point that 
she had to sit down at the table.

"I think I'll just go ahead and leave now before I cause you to 
accidentally injure yourself from too much laughter."

The ringing of the kitchen phone interrupted Martha's reply, and 
Clark picked up the receiver from its place on the wall.

"Hello?"

"Clark?"

"Lana," Clark said, smiling involuntarily and then freezing as 
possible reasons for her calling started to come to him.  

"Is something wrong?  Nothing's happened, has it?" he asked.

"No, I just wanted to make sure nothing was going on at your end 
either."

"Lana, I told you nothing was going to interfere this time.  I'm 
going out the door right now, as a matter of fact.  I figure I'm 
a health hazard to my mother at the moment and need to get out of 
here," he said, glancing at his mother, who had started laughing 
again.

"You promise?"

"I've got the keys in my hand and I'll be over in just a couple 
of minutes.  I promise, nothing's going to ruin tonight."

"Ok, I'll see you in a couple of minutes."

"Bye," Clark said and then replaced the receiver on the wall hook 
and gave his mom a quick kiss on the cheek."

"I won't be very late."

"I had no doubts about that.  I just want to be warned if your 
father and I have to tether you to the bed tonight so we don't 
find you on the ceiling in the morning."

"Seriously, Mom.  Letterman's not retiring for a while."

"Ok, Ok, I just wanted to remind you that you have a secret 
identity and floating while you and your date dance isn't the 
best way to keep it."

Clark chuckled and gave his mom a hug. 

"Ok, maybe you can get Carson's job."

"And leave the glamour of Smallville?  Not on your life."

Clark flashed his mom a final smile and headed out the door.  
Once he had started the truck and put it in gear, his hand 
automatically reached for the radio, but he stopped himself.  
Nothing had been happening up till now so he probably shouldn't 
tempt fate.  Besides, he told himself, even a Superboy needed a 
night off every now and then.

**********

Despite their early arrival, the school's gymnasium was already 
quite crowded.

"Clark, Lana!" a voice yelled at them from across the room as 
they entered the gym.

Turning toward the source of the yell, Clark saw his best friend, 
Pete Ross, coming toward them pulling his date, Jessica Drake, in 
his wake. 

"I told Jessica that it wasn't a dumb idea to come early.  Can 
you believe all of the people that are already here?"

"Yeah," replied Clark. "I guess everyone else had the same idea."

"Which makes no sense because nothing's even started," grumbled 
Jessica.

"Hey," Pete said, "it's the mingling portion of the evening.  In 
a little while you won't even be able to hear yourself think, let 
alone talk to someone else."

"Yeah," added Lana, pointing toward one end of the gym. "Looks 
like the sound guy's already getting everything ready for the 
DJ."

The gym's speakers suddenly came to life and music played for 
three seconds before cutting off again to be replaced by a loud 
hiss from the system, which in turn was quickly shut off.

"Looks like it may be a bit before they do get it up and running, 
though," Clark said.  "I think I'll take that moment to get some 
punch.  You guys want anything?"

"No," Lana said and then added, giving Clark a pointed look, 
"just don't stray too far."

"Worry-wort," Clark said with a grin, which prompted a smirk from 
Lana.

Clark set off across the gym toward the table of refreshments 
near the DJ booth.  The sound system came on and then went off 
twice more before he arrived at the table.  A radio was sitting 
to one side tuned to a local radio station and the same song that 
the sound man was attempting to get right on the overhead system 
was coincidentally coming to an end just as Clark began pouring 
himself a 
glass of punch.  Before he could start back toward his friends, 
however, his attention was drawn to the news report that came on 
after the song had ended.

*Repeating the lead news story of the hour, a 727 crashed shortly 
after take off from Chicago's O'Hare Airport a short while ago.  
The plane went down in a residential area and now the 
neighborhood of...*

Not going was never even an option.  A plane crash was always 
serious work and, considering the involvement of a residential 
neighborhood, he shuddered to think how many homes and lives were 
involved.  He looked back toward Lana and the others, but stopped 
himself before he could head back over to them.  He didn't even 
have time to come up with a decent excuse anyway.  Every second 
counted, especially since he was getting the news late.  If only 
he had turned on the truck radio when he'd started to.  If only.  
And he was going to be leaving Lana in the lurch.  Again.

He was in uniform and airborne seconds after hearing the news and 
crossing the Illinois border seconds after that.  His personal 
life would have to take a back seat to more important matters.   
Enough people had already been hurt because of his lack of 
attention.


**********

While Pete focused his conversation on Jessica, Lana took a look 
around the gym.  Where was Clark?  It had been almost ten minutes 
and he still wasn't back.  He wasn't near the punch bowl and she 
couldn't locate him in the crowd anywhere.

"Hey," Jessica suddenly said, "what happened to Clark?"

Lana, caught off guard by the question, the same one that she had 
just been asking herself, was at a loss for words.

"Uh...I'm sure he probably had to go to the bathroom or 
something," Pete stammered.  "Heck, knowing how clumsy Clark is, 
he probably spilled the punch all over himself.  I'm sure he'll 
be right back."

Something in the way Pete said that made Lana look at him 
closely.  He and Clark were often thick as thieves and sometimes 
Lana got the feeling that Pete knew a lot more about Clark's 
sudden disappearances than he let on.  Thinking back, she could 
remember several times when Pete came to the rescue with some 
type of excuse for Clark.  Oftentimes it was also a totally 
different excuse than Clark himself told when he finally showed 
back up again.  Was Pete just being a good friend trying to cover 
up for Clark's behavior, or was there more to it?

Even as she was thinking this, Lana found herself saying, "Yeah, 
I'm sure he'll be back soon.  Clark never disappears for long."

The more she thought about it, the more the wheels of her 
imagination began to turn and an old suspicion began to rise.  It 
couldn't be, could it?  She'd had the thought in the past, but 
had always been proven wrong.  If it was true, though, she had a 
lot of serious thinking to do in terms of this relationship.

"Yeah," Pete agreed. "Clark will probably be back long before 
they even get that darn sound system working."

**********

Jonathan Kent snapped awake at 12:20 AM, but couldn't figure out 
what had awoken him.  Being careful not to wake Martha, he 
slipped out of bed and started downstairs.  Feeling strangely 
awake for such a late hour, he figured he would make a sandwich 
and perhaps drink some milk to help him get back to sleep.  As he 
started past the living room, he became aware of an acrid smell 
and realized he wasn't alone.  

Flipping on the light switch, he found Clark sitting alone in the 
dark wearing his Superboy uniform.  His clothing and face were 
smeared with dirt and what looked like grease.  His face and eyes 
were red and it looked as if he had been crying.

"My God, Clark, what's wrong?" Jonathan said quickly, crossing to 
kneel by his son's side.

"216 people died tonight because I wanted to have a date."

"What?"

"A plane crashed in Chicago tonight.  187 people were on board 
and 29 were on the ground.  103 men, 96 women and 17 children 
ranging from age 2 to 15."

Clark delivered this information in a monotone, as if reciting 
something from a book.  What worried Jonathan the most, though, 
was that his face held almost no expression and he never once 
made eye contact.

"I'm sorry, Clark, but I'm not sure what you mean about it being 
your fault."

"I didn't hear about it until it was too late to do anything 
except contain the fires and recover the bodies."

"Then how is it your fault?"

"I purposely didn't hear about it.  I avoided the radio and the 
news because I thought I deserved a date without interruption."

"Clark, you listened to the news all day.  You went out of your 
way to try to find out information about anything bad happening 
in the world."

"Not when I got in the truck today.  Once I left to pick up Lana, 
I purposely made sure I didn't get interrupted.  All because I 
felt I 'deserved' some time off."

The venom Clark infused into the word "deserved" gave Jonathan 
pause.  He had heard his son angry before, but not quite so 
bitter.

"Clark, son, there's nothing wrong with feeling that you should 
have some time for yourself.  You work incred..."

"Those people deserved to live," Clark said, interrupting his 
father, his voice rising, and turning to meet Jonathan's eyes for 
the first time.  

"Those people deserved to not burn to death.  Those children 
deserved to grow up and have lives.  Those people...DESERVED...to 
not die in pain and fear because their hero was too concerned 
about himself to remember what his responsibilities were."

Jonathan rocked back on his feet, startled at the anger in 
Clark's tone.  He understood Clark's feelings, but he hated 
seeing his son tear himself up like this.

"Son..." Jonathan started calmly, but was interrupted.

"No, Dad," Clark said, holding his hand up and bringing his voice 
back under control.  "Nothing's going to make me feel better 
about this.  I know I'm being hard on myself and I know I can't 
be everywhere at once, but if I hadn't been out tonight the odds 
are that I probably would have heard about it a lot sooner.  The 
simple truth is that the choices I make affect the lives of 
others."

Clark dropped his head back down and took a deep breath before 
continuing.

"And I left Lana again.  I didn't even have time to tell her that 
I had to leave and then once I got there the fire had spread 
throughout a housing development and it was hours before I could 
get away.  The people who died tonight suffered because I chose 
to go to a dance and Lana suffered because I choose to live the 
life I do.  And she doesn't even know why she's suffering."

"Are you going to tell her?" Jonathan asked.

Clark let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head.

"No. As much as I hate her not knowing, tonight made it obvious 
what my choice needs to be where our relationship is concerned 
and I can't burden her with knowledge only to walk away."

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?" 

"No, it's not what I want to do, but it's what I have to do.  How 
many times has she broken up with me only to have me talk her 
into getting back together and then doing the same thing to her 
all over again?"

"Maybe knowing might make a difference in how she handles 
things," Jonathan suggested.

Clark looked up at Jonathan, cocking one eyebrow.

"I know, I know," Jonathan said. "It's not natural for me to 
suggest giving up 'the secret', I'm just saying, 'what if?'"

A bittersweet smile graced Clark's lips for a moment, but then he 
shook his head.

"It doesn't matter how she'd handle things.  I'd still have to go 
and I'd still be leaving her.  It's not right for me to do that 
over and over again to someone and ask them to wait.  She 
deserves a life."

"And what do you 'deserve'?"

Clark's answer came without hesitation.

"To be true to myself.  To be able to look at myself in the 
mirror and not be ashamed of what I see.  There's an old saying 
about staring into the abyss only to see it staring back at you.  
I want to be able to do that and not blink once.  That's what I 
deserve and I won't be able to do it as long as I'm hurting 
everyone around me because of a lie."

Jonathan took a deep breath before continuing.  He realized that 
it was a waste of time to try talking Clark out of this action at 
the current time, so all that was left was to give him the most 
support that he could.

"When are you going to tell her?"

"Tonight if she's still up.  It won't take me but a few seconds 
to shower and change.  Tomorrow if she isn't up and is still 
speaking to me."

"I'll wait up."

"Dad," Clark replied, starting to shake his head again, "you 
don't..."

"I'll wait up," Jonathan said again more firmly.

"Thanks," Clark said after a moment.

He stood and gave Jonathan a quick embrace before heading up the 
stairs.

**********

Lana was sitting on her porch swing when Clark arrived.

"I figured you'd be by tonight so I waited up," she said by way 
of greeting.

"Did you get home alright?" he asked, taking a seat beside her.

"Pete brought me after it became obvious that you weren't coming 
back.  I wasn't in much of a partying mood after that."

"I'm sorry," Clark said, dropping his head and closing his eyes 
for a moment to gather his courage.

"I know," Lana said, surprising him with the empathy she put into 
those words.

"You do?" Clark asked, glancing up at her in surprise.

"Clark," Lana said, "we've known each other for a long time.  
We've been friends and more than friends.  I know I've been angry 
with you in the past for disappearing, but it finally came to me 
tonight that I know you well enough to know that you don't do it 
to hurt me and that you're a good enough person that you don't do 
anything without good reason.  So, when you disappeared tonight, 
I started thinking about what it meant and decided that maybe I 
just need to give you the benefit of the doubt.  The question is, 
do I want to be with you or not, and if I do is it worth all of 
the inconveniences attached?"

Clark looked at her expectantly, too surprised to speak.  Taking 
his silence as consent to continue, she began speaking again.

"I do want to be with you, Clark. I realize that there 
are...certain things in your life that you have to do because 
of...who you are and that because of that there are going to be 
times when you aren't going to be there when I want you to be."

Lana turned toward Clark and took his hand.

"But, Clark, the main thing is that we have one another in each 
other's lives and that's worth whatever pain your absences cause.  
I want us to have a future together no matter the good or the bad 
because I know you'll be there when it really matters."

Clark stared at Lana, unsure of how to proceed and totally off 
balance by the whirlwind of thoughts in his head.  She knew, or 
at least strongly suspected, that much was pretty obvious.  But 
her knowing wasn't that big a surprise considering her past 
suspicions and his constant disappearing act.  The most 
surprising thing was that here she was saying something that a 
week or even a day ago Clark would have turned cartwheels to have 
heard, but now he was the beneficiary of newfound wisdom that 
made her proclamations bittersweet.  

"Lana," he started, at first dropping his gaze, unable to meet 
her eyes, but finally forcing himself to "I appreciate what 
you've just said, more than words.  But the truth of the matter 
is that I won't be there when it matters.  I'll leave you again 
and again and again and I can't live with the pain that I'll 
cause you each time I go.  You deserve a full time 'someone' 
rather than a part-time 'something' and a something is all I can 
ever be because I could never give you a hundred percent of 
myself."

"But, Clark..."

"No, Lana.  I've thought a lot about this and I've been selfish 
to keep dragging you back into a relationship where I hurt you 
over and over again.  I love you, but in this case love might not 
be enough.  Or maybe it is.  Enough to make me see that I'll 
never be what you deserve and I can't bear to be the one you'll 
one day grow to resent because in the end I can't give you the 
thing you deserve most.  Me."

"But, Clark, I understand why you can't always be there.  I know 
you're..."

Clark put his hand to her lips and stopped her from speaking.

"Then you know that part of me will always be elsewhere, Lana.  
You don't deserve that and neither do I.  I've been dividing 
myself and each time I've brought you pain has made it that much 
more difficult to continue on with that other part of me.  And I 
can't neglect that part, Lana."

Lana opened her mouth to speak, but then bit her lower lip and 
dropped her head, tears beginning to flow from her eyes.  Clark 
stared at her for a moment, drinking in her very essence, and 
then finally stood.

"'I'm sorry' doesn't even begin to be adequate, Lana, but I am."

He turned and started down the steps, but stopped at the bottom.  
He opened his mouth to speak, but finally dropped his head and 
continued into the darkness.

**********

Jonathan Kent sat at the kitchen table as promised when Clark 
arrived home, but didn't speak for a moment as Clark sank down in 
the chair opposite him.

"Here, you look like you need this," Jonathan said as he slid a 
glass of chocolate milk toward Clark.

One side of Clark's mouth quirked up at that, but he didn't speak 
as he picked the glass up and took a drink.

"How was it?" Jonathan asked.

"Like tearing my arm off," Clark replied.

"Are you sure it's worth it, then?"

"Looking at those people tonight was like tearing my soul out so, 
yeah, it was the lesser of two evils."

"No chance for middle ground?"

Clark sat there for a moment, pondering how to put into words the 
concepts that had been rocketing through his brain since he sat 
on Lana's porch.

"It's not just dividing my attention between her and my duties, 
it's more than that.  I finally saw that tonight."

Jonathan sat quietly with his chin rested on his hand.  His 
silence urged Clark to continue.

"Lana told me she was willing to accept me for what I am and that 
she wanted a future together."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at that, but still didn't speak.

"She knows, by the way," Clark added nonchalantly.

Both eyebrows went up at that point.

"She admitted as much, but I never out and out confirmed things.  
It didn't seem to matter at that point.  But when she started 
talking about the future it finally hit me.  It wasn't just 
dividing myself between a relationship and Superboy, it was that 
she really didn't know what she was accepting."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Jonathan said.

"People look at the uniform and the flashy powers and all they 
see is the adventurous super-hero.  They don't comprehend the 
full picture.  I may look human, but I'm not.  I'm the last 
surviving specimen of an alien species.  I don't even know if I 
can have children with a human.  Regardless of this crazy life 
I've chosen, I don't even know what my life expectancy is.  The 
moment I sat foot upon this world my entire biology began to 
change and there's never been a test case to let me know what the 
long term effects will be.  I could be killed by Mordru tomorrow 
or I could live to be hundreds if not thousands of years old.   I 
might never age or I might age at a normal rate and eventually 
become a super-powered Alzheimer's patient.  What kind of future 
could I truly offer someone?"

Jonathan sat back in his chair.  Clark had just voiced many of 
the thoughts he had secretly had himself, but was always too 
afraid to speak aloud.

"In the end," Clark continued, "the truth is that I really can't 
offer anyone anything.  My mind will always be on the job and I 
won't be able to offer anything but a partial relationship, and 
the part I can offer is tainted by too many questions with no 
guarantees.  And, to be totally honest, I have to ask myself if I 
would really be strong enough to watch someone I love slowly grow 
old and die all the while thinking that they are resenting me 
because I can't.  Or afraid that they're only staying with me out 
of some misplaced sense of loyalty because I had crushed all of 
their dreams of a normal life and future before we even got 
started.  I can't do that to someone or to myself."

"But you're going to end up alone that way," Jonathan said.

"No I won't, Dad," Clark replied and, at Jonathan's puzzled 
expression, added, "I have you and Mom."

Jonathan's expression softened and he replied "But what happens 
when your mom and I are no longer here?"

"With any luck that's something my mature and wise 70 year old 
brain can ponder on when and if it finally happens," Clark said 
with a small smile.

Jonathan laid his hand on top of his son's, but remained silent, 
providing comfort with just his presence.    Sometimes even the 
best parent was at a loss to help their children solve the big 
problems or answer the tough questions.  He hoped Clark would 
come to his senses and realize that no man was an island, but he 
knew that Clark wasn't in any frame of mind to listen to that 
sort of advice now.  And in truth though he knew Clark was wrong 
he really didn't have a good argument to counter his logic at the 
moment.  The fact of the matter was that Clark's responsibilities 
would be a burden on whoever his partner may be and she'd have to 
be an extraordinary individual to shoulder it.  Hopefully, 
though, Clark was right and he and Martha would be there until he 
met that person.  He hated the thought of his son being alone, 
especially after a day like today when he needed someone to talk 
to. 

But sometimes even adults tend toward the belief that there will 
always be time to worry about things later and unfortunately, 
sometimes there isn't.



***1 year later...***

In stark contrast to an occasion that cried out for rain, the sun 
was bright in the sky and the weather as beautiful and any seen 
in Kansas over the past two decades.  It was the kind of weather 
that might make some swear that nothing bad could be happening 
anywhere.  Unfortunately, as always, such predictions rarely held 
true in real life.

Clark Kent stood at the graveside of his adoptive parents, 
watching silently as they lowered his father into his final 
resting-place beside his wife, who had preceded him in death by 
only three days.  For the second time in his life, the child from 
the stars found himself an orphan.  The mysterious illness that 
had claimed the elder Kents had been as sudden as it was deadly.  
They had returned from a vacation in the Bahamas only a little 
over a month earlier and the first symptoms had appeared soon 
after that.  Clark had consulted with the finest medical minds 
both on and off Earth, but not one of them could identify the 
malady or retard its rapid advance through Martha and Jonathan's 
systems.  In the end, all Clark could do was watch helplessly as 
the two most important people in his life slowly slipped away.

He nodded his head and numbly answered each well-wisher as they 
passed by the grave, paying their last respects and stopping 
briefly to speak with Clark.  He was aware of Martin Lang's 
presence long before he felt the older man's hand rest itself 
upon his shoulder as he approached Clark from behind.  Clark was 
also aware of Martin's daughter, Lana, who had approached along 
with her father and now slid her hand into his.  

"You're still coming to supper with us, aren't you, Clark?"  
Martin Lang asked.

"I'm not sure, Professor," Clark answered. "There's still a lot 
of things that need to be done around the house."

"Nothing that can't wait, Clark.  You just buried your parents. 
Now's not the time to start isolating yourself."

"Yes sir, Professor Lang," Clark replied meekly, giving Lana's 
hand a small answering squeeze and smiling slightly at her.

"Besides," Martin continued, "I'm anxious to hear about your 
college plans.  I understand you've corrupted my daughter into 
looking at journalism rather than a nice solid career in 
academia."

"Dad-dy..." Lana began, rolling her eyes.

"Tut, tut, dear," Professor Lang said, his hand still on Clark's 
shoulder beginning to guide him away from the graveside. "You 
obviously missed my comments on the virtues of tenure and summers 
off."  

Clark smiled politely at their banter, recognizing it for the 
attempt it was to distract him from slipping into a pit of 
despair.  They needn't have worried, he could have told them.  He 
was raised better than that.  He owed all the people who had 
called themselves his parents better than that. Superboy had a 
responsibility to the world and responsibility shouldn't be side 
tracked by self-pity.  His parents, Clark told himself, had 
always reminded him to be mindful of his responsibilities and 
look toward the future and that was exactly what he intended to 
do.  He silently vowed not to surrender to despair and willingly 
allowed himself to be led from the graveside.  

Despite his thoughts to the contrary, though, Clark was 
consciously trying to ignore the feeling that was winding up his 
spine as the sight of the casket being lowered into the grave 
tickled at some long forgotten memory and left him wanting to 
jump out of his own skin.   As he left the graveside, his 
phenomenal hearing picked up the sound of dirt and rock bouncing 
off the coffin and, hidden behind a polite expression, he fought 
the urge to scream.

**********

Graduation Day has historically been a time for celebration.  
This year's graduating class from Metropolis University saw no 
reason to challenge tradition and so, once the final speaker of 
the graduation ceremony ended his oration with his 
congratulations and good luck wishes, the class erupted into a 
collective cheer and made ready for the evening's festivities.  
Everyone, that was, except for one departing senior who, though 
he rose from his seat with the rest of his class, did not join in 
the screaming celebration.  

Clark Kent took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the day and 
to take in the cheering crowd before breaking into a soft smile 
and beginning to walk away from the field heading back to his 
dorm.  His smile faltered somewhat as he began weaving around 
hugging families and shouts of congratulations.  He immediately 
clamped down on his initial feelings of gloom, reminding himself 
that his father had always taught him that there was never a good 
time to feel sorry for yourself, and even though his parents had 
been gone for four years their lessons had never left him.
 
"Grow or die," his father had always told him.  "Creatures who 
fail to learn that lesson don't survive very long, Clark," 
Jonathan Kent had said as he and Clark sat side by side on a 
fence overlooking their farm late one summer afternoon when Clark 
was ten.  "Things change.  It's not a good thing or a bad thing; 
it's just change.  You have to adjust to them because they won't 
adjust to you.  If you spend all of your time wishing for what 
was you miss the opportunities of what could be.  There are 
always possibilities, Clark.  Don't limit your options just 
because you don't like the circumstances.  Grow.  You do that and 
you'll never disappoint your mother or me and more importantly, 
you'll never disappoint yourself."

Jonathan Kent had been a simple farmer all of his life, but Clark 
knew that, no matter what he did in life, he could count himself 
lucky if his wisdom even came close to equaling that of that 
"simple farmer." Clark stopped for a moment to say a silent thank 
you to the couple that he knew were somewhere watching him and 
resolved once again to never let them down.  His smile returned 
even brighter than before and he continued on his way.  He had 
arranged for an apartment in the city some weeks ago and packing 
still needed to be completed so that he could be out of the dorm 
by the end of the day.  Monday morning he had an interview with 
Perry White of the Daily Planet.  Then he would explore those 
possibilities his father had always told him about.

**********

Superman became aware of the apartment building fire while still 
several miles away from Metropolis.  As was always his habit, he 
had tuned his hearing to the nearest radio with an emergency band 
when he entered Metropolis's airspace.  He had just spent the day 
investigating rumors of a vigilante targeting high profile 
criminals operating on the East Coast and most of the evening 
dealing with an earthquake outside Tokyo.  Returning home, he had 
hoped for a quick shower and a little reading to help him relax 
from a long day at both of his jobs.

Four years, a couple of journalistic awards and many adventures 
after graduation, Clark had found himself one of the Planet's 
rising stars.  He prided himself on his writing and enjoyed it 
whenever a story was won through his writing and tenacity in 
going after a story rather than through any use of his powers.  
It also helped to take the sting out of what he still considered 
as cheating to get the job in the first place.  

Perry White had been a wonderful man to deal with during their 
interview, quickly making Clark feel at ease and encouraging him 
to talk about himself and what he felt he could offer the Daily 
Planet.  Clark could easily see why White was considered one of 
the nation's foremost journalists because his easygoing manner 
made Clark feel that he could open up to him about anything.  
Well, almost anything, anyway.  However, at the end of interview, 
Perry had used those same skills to lessen the blow as he told 
Clark that there wasn't a place for him at the Planet.

"Son, the Daily Planet is the best newspaper in the world.  Read 
in every country in the free world and some that aren't.  I like 
your stuff.  You have a great style and show potential, but I 
can't put someone with your limited experience on the city beat 
when there are more experienced reporters out there who would 
kill for a chance to work here."

"Mr. White, I don't expect to jump right into investigative 
reporting.  I know I lack experience and I'll have to work my way 
up, but like you said I have talent.  I know I can do the job and 
I know that I have what it takes to keep doing the job.  And 
where could I get better experience than here?  You could train 
me the way you want me to be trained and not deal with bad habits 
brought on from years working at inferior newspapers."

Perry had actually smiled at that and sat for a moment in 
silence, seeming to consider Clark's argument.  

"I know what you're saying, son.  Hell, I even agree to a point.  
I did exactly that with a girl two years ago and have never had 
the first time to regret my decision.  But I knew her.  She had 
been interning here since high school and all though college and, 
even more importantly, when she came for her interview she came 
with goods already in hand.  A major league story worthy of a 
veteran.  That kind of initiative is what makes the Planet what 
it is.  But I don't have anything to justify taking that chance 
with you."

"What kind of story would convince you?" was Clark's immediate 
response.

White had appeared momentarily stunned by Clark's intense manner, 
but a smile begin to crawl slowly across his face and his eyes 
gained an eagerness as he leaned forward to answer.

"Something big."

"How big?"

Perry settled back in his chair and thought for a moment.  
"You're from Smallville, right?"

"Yes, sir," Clark replied beginning to get a sinking feeling.

"One of your fellow townspeople began making regular appearances 
in our fair city a few years ago."

"Superboy," Clark said, as though stating a fact, not asking a 
question.

"Yes, Superboy.  Now since the time he made his debut he's been 
seen all over the globe taking care of problems, but its always 
been pretty clear that his base of operations was the mid-west 
and probably close to if not Smallville itself.  Now about four 
years ago he's suddenly on hand for every mugging and gang fight 
that takes place within Metropolis' city limits.  The question 
that comes to mind is why?  Why is Metropolis suddenly ground 
zero for Superboy's activities?"

"Maybe he just wanted a change of pace, Mr. White.  Metropolis is 
the world's biggest city.  Surely you have a more interesting 
story in mind than just a celebrity's choice of homes?"

White raised his eyebrows with that.  "Don't make me take back my 
compliments, Kent.  An alien from another planet with the power 
to change the course of rivers and who has taken it upon himself 
to become the defender of truth, justice, and the American way 
has radically changed his pattern of behavior.  That's more than 
just some celebrity changing houses.  That's news, big news.  
When it first became apparent that he was operating primarily 
from Metropolis I put some people on it, but got nothing for my 
trouble.  I even called some people at the Smallville Press 
figuring I could cash in on some hometown nostalgia on Superboy's 
part.  Again, I came up with nothing.  You bring me the story of 
why he made the change and I'll hand you your letter of 
employment.  Deal?"

Clark sat silently for a moment, cursing quietly to himself, but 
finally stood up and took the older man's offered hand.

"Deal."

Clark had returned home that day and one week later, after a lot 
of soul-searching, moralizing and out and out angst-ridden 
conversations with himself, he walked back into Perry White's 
office carrying his "interview" with Superboy.

Clark had taken a lot of time with that interview because he 
wanted to make sure that certain points came across in certain 
ways.  He had researched Metropolis crime statistics for several 
years back so he could claim that it was the increased awareness 
of urban crime which had prompted his relocation.  Additionally, 
he stated his desire to be near the hub of global communication 
as Superboy was becoming more conscious of his standing in the 
world community.  Both of these reasons were true in their own 
way, but left out the vital fact of his dual identity and desire 
for a job in journalism.  Clark had also taken the opportunity to 
inform the world that referring to a twenty-something male as 
"boy" was probably no longer appropriate.  From then on he was 
known as Superman.  

As Superman dropped though the city sky toward the blaze, he 
quickly scanned the area and determined the positions of everyone 
in a two square block radius.  Realizing that several people were 
still trapped in the burning building and in immediate need of 
assistance, he couldn't take the time to stop and speak with the 
fire-chief on the scene.  In a split second, every window and 
door in the building ceased to exist and Superman began to fly 
circles around the building, varying his altitude from ground 
level to the height of the building itself.

Under normal circumstances, opening the building up to more 
oxygen would have been a mistake, as it would have fed the fire.  
Superman, however, was quickly creating a low-pressure system 
outside and the air was immediately sucked out of the building as 
nature tried to equalize the pressure both inside and out, 
causing the fire to die away.

Then came the arduous task of removing the survivors without 
upsetting an already unstable building.  A quick scan told 
Superman the location of those in need of immediate medical 
attention and those he grabbed first and transported to awaiting 
EMS vehicles.  The rest he left to the firemen as he busied 
himself shoring up the building's faltering supports in an effort 
to prevent its collapse under its own weight.

After the last survivor was removed and Superman had assured 
himself that the building wouldn't suddenly collapse once he 
looked the other way, he turned to the most unpleasant duty of 
recovering the bodies of those not lucky enough to escape.  A 
fire this size almost always claimed several lives unless 
Superman was on the scene almost immediately after it started.  
Even after years of functioning in his superhero role, Clark 
still had difficulty reconciling himself as to those things he 
had no control over.  He inevitably wound up playing the "if 
only" game with himself and berating himself for not moving just 
a bit faster, for not being aware of things just a moment sooner.  
He knew it was an exercise in futility because no one, no matter 
who they were, could be in every place at once, but the voice 
that told him this was a small one and was easily drowned out by 
the shouts of his guilt.

Attempting to take his mind off of the gruesome duty, he began 
composing his story in his mind.  He would talk with the chief 
once the bodies were removed and find out if he had any idea what 
had caused the blaze.  If nothing else, he consoled himself that 
perhaps, by writing a story outlining the events leading up to 
the fire, he would be able to make people more aware of potential 
dangers that could be avoided in the future.

What Clark didn't realize was that another Daily Planet reporter 
was on the scene and having the same thoughts.  Under normal 
circumstances Clark made a point of scanning the spectators for 
his fellow reporters so as not to duplicate work or have to 
explain how he got a story without his co-workers being aware of 
his presence.  It was a testament to his physical and mental 
exhaustion that he failed to do so in this case.  Especially 
since it involved a reporter who truly detested being beaten to a 
story in general and by Clark Kent in particular.

**********

Clark's Superman interview had not only won him employment, but 
had also, to his private shame, garnered him that year's 
Merriwether Award for excellence in journalism.  It had also won 
him the enmity of several of his co-workers who had worked on the 
same story to no avail over the past few years.  One of them 
being "the girl" that Perry stated he had taken the chance on two 
years ago, Lois Lane.

Lois was also a graduate of MU, but despite their shared major 
Clark could only recall sharing one class with her and having 
only one fleeting interaction during a classroom discussion, even 
at that.  Classes at MU were so large that sharing a class meant 
about as much as not sharing one at all if the two people 
involved never had any direct interaction.  Most journalism 
majors did some work for the school newspaper at one time or 
other during their time at MU, but Clark's other "duties" had 
kept that to a minimum on his part so he had never encountered 
her directly there either.  When Clark started at the Planet all 
he knew about Lois was through her reputation and through a 
single personal impression gained from brief observations during 
their one shared class.  Clark knew that Lois Lane made him 
nervous.

The problem was that Clark didn't know why she made him nervous.  
He was the single most powerful being on the planet and had dealt 
with intergalactic invaders, heads of state, and power mad 
villains without batting an eye.  The first time he had laid eyes 
on her he felt almost as if his mind had become separated from 
his body and he had difficulty making his muscles obey his mind's 
commands.  For a moment, he was put in mind of the feeling he had 
when Lana Lang surprised him with a kiss after walking her home 
from school when they were 13. He quickly dismissed the idea 
because he had never even spoken to this girl, let alone walked 
her anywhere, and it was darned silly to begin mooning over a 
perfect stranger when he had other responsibilities to attend to.  
He promptly put her out of his mind and actively proceeded to 
ignore future sensations as they occurred when he saw her.

But, several years later, sitting at his brand-new desk adjusting 
to the fact that he was now a paid member of the news media, he 
had reason to recall all of those encounters.  

Clark Kent grew up in a world of constant stimuli.  He could 
watch cells divide or stand spectator to the incredible impacts 
between asteroids near Mars.  He could also hear conversations 
across the room or across the city as he chose.  Clark was 
constantly aware of all things around him and as such was 
immediately aware when a pair of legs drew up short beside his 
desk as he was bent over retrieving a pencil that had rolled off 
onto the floor.  

"How did you do it, Kent?" asked a feminine voice with a marked 
edge to it.

Looking up, Clark's vaunted state of awareness shut down and his 
mouth became decidedly dry as he found himself staring into the 
eyes of Lois Lane herself.  He also found that he was 
experiencing that same long-ago sensation of disassociation of 
mind from body.

"Uh..."

"Golly, with that kind of wit I guess it's obvious how you 
scooped all of the other, more experienced reporters.  We never 
stood a chance."

"Wha..."

"The Superman story, Smallville.  How did you land it?  Good Ol' 
Boy network?  You and he used to drink beer and swap NASCAR 
stories on top of the old windmill?"

"I don't...I mean he doesn't..." Clark began to stammer, feeling 
out of control, but fighting to maintain some semblance of 
intelligence.  He finally steadied himself and decided on a 
neutral statement.  "Superman doesn't drink beer."

Lois dropped her head in exasperation.  "I didn't mean that 
literally, you idiot.  I want to know how a newbie scored an 
interview that the rest of us have tried to get since the Big Red 
"S" hit town.  Was it just because he knew you from back home?"

"Well, sure, I'd met him a couple of times, but..."

"So the rest of us bust our humps trying to practice 'journalism' 
and you strut in here with a story and a new job because you just 
happen to be lucky enough to know the subject."

Clark was slowly starting to come to himself and, despite his 
feelings of guilt about using his alter ego to get a job, he 
found himself becoming annoyed at Lois's accusations.

"However I got the interview, Ms. Lane," Clark said, stressing 
her name, "I had to ask the questions and write the article.  If 
it wasn't journalism, I doubt Mr. White would have printed it on 
the front page of the Planet.  If you have any further problem 
beyond that, I suggest you take it up with him."

Lois's eyes had widened slightly at Clark's biting statement and 
then a slight smile appeared on her lips.

"Well, at least there's a backbone in there somewhere.  It was 
difficult to tell, what with you wearing your father's suit and 
all."

Turning away from his desk, she continued, "Welcome to the 
Planet, Kent.  You get in my way over a story again and I'll 
plant a size seven shoe in the middle of that backbone or parts 
slightly south."  She glanced briefly over her shoulder and shot 
Clark a wink before walking back across the newsroom.

Clark sat in silence and opened and closed his mouth a couple of 
times without being able to form a reply before she disappeared.  
He wasn't sure if he had just been threatened or flirted with and 
also wasn't sure which one made him the most nervous.

**********

No matter how many times Lois saw Superman in action, it never 
failed to leave her utterly amazed.  The MFD had been at work on 
the fire for over an hour before Superman had gotten there and it 
had been extinguished within sixty seconds of his arrival.  
However, in the past few years after she had been able to observe 
him in action several times close up, she had discovered that his 
powers weren't actually the most amazing thing about him.  It was 
his sheer presence.  

Standing behind the police line, Lois was able to observe 
Superman as he interacted with the various emergency workers.  He 
moved among them with an unselfconscious assurance and confidence 
and they in turn seemed to accept him as one of their own without 
question.  Men several years his senior treated him with 
deference and his very presence seemed to inspire a more serious 
atmosphere and a greater attention to decorum.  A living, 
breathing angel walked among them and no one was going to be the 
individual who failed to give 150%.  

Normally one who appreciated the wry, vagaries of life, Lois 
sometimes found it strange that she didn't find it particularly 
amusing that emergency workers seemed to stand a bit straighter 
as he passed.  It was probably because she had caught herself 
doing it as well a few times and understood the awe and 
inspiration this man engendered in all he encountered.  You 
wanted to do your best when he was around, not just because you 
didn't want to disappoint him, but because he made you feel that 
you could do anything.  

Besides awe, it was also obvious that his presence gave people 
comfort.  Not just because he made them feel safe, but because 
the very benevolence of his nature was apparent as the "S" on his 
chest.  It was like Santa Claus, Spring, and chocolate ice cream 
all wrapped into one package, she had thought to herself once in 
a sugar-induced fit of poetic creativity.

Lois spotted Ben Thomas, a fireman and current inspector with the 
MFD whom she had known since childhood, standing off to one side 
watching the Man of Steel and moved though the crowd toward him.

"He's amazing to watch, isn't he?" she said as she reached his 
side.

"LoLo!" Ben exclaimed.  "Long time no see."

Lois rolled her eyes in mock exasperation at Ben's use of her 
childhood nickname.

Ben laughed at his own joke and Lois's reaction before replying 
to her earlier question.

"Yeah, he's something else.  Amazes me how he does it."

Something in the way Ben said that made Lois think he was 
referring to more than just Superman's display of powers.  
Somewhat surprised to hear her private musings voiced aloud by 
another, she chose to play dumb to see if Ben had been thinking 
the same thing she had in regards to the Man of Steel.

"Well," Lois commented, "it probably helps being a walking solar 
battery that can't be harmed by mortal man."

Ben rolled his eyes this time and barked a short laugh.

"That's not what I mean, wisenheimer.  Look," Ben said, pointing 
at a younger fireman standing over by one of the other trucks 
taking a quick break to grab a drink of water. "That's Steve 
Wilson.  He's a rookie to the MFD, been with us six or seven 
months now.  Worked a few fires out in the burbs where he started 
out, but he's new to the high rise environment of Metropolis.  I 
just watched Superman volunteer to clear one of the rooms just so 
Steve wouldn't have to see the dead bodies that were in there."

"Nice of him," Lois said, "but that's the kind of compassion 
we've learned to expect from him over the past few years."

"Yeah, but look at Steve and then look at Superman.  Steve's 
probably got a couple of years on him.  He may be new to the MFD, 
but he's been in the business a few years."

Ben leaned back against the fire truck and took a deep breath, 
seeming to look inward for a second before he continued.

"I once had to cut a ten-year old out of a burnt-up car just so 
his parents would have something to bury.  I still sometimes wake 
up in the middle of the night with that image in my head.  
Superman has been doing this since he was what?  Thirteen?  And 
he still jumps in on a daily basis and takes the time to worry 
about how the sight of a body is going to affect a man who chose 
this as a career.  That's what's amazing.  I've seen fires, car 
wrecks, and industrial accidents.  He's seen that plus war, 
famine, and God only know what, and he still wants to help and he 
still worries about the feelings of others."

Lois felt a lump form in her throat at the large man's open 
frankness, and laid a hand on his arm to convey support to her 
old friend.

"I just wonder what images he has in his head that wake him up in 
a cold sweat in the middle of the night," Ben added, looking into 
the distance.

The comment took Lois by surprise.  She'd never thought about how 
things like that affected Superman.  After all, he was...well, 
Superman.  Lois was thoughtful for a few moments before she 
spoke.

"Yeah, I guess he is pretty amazing.  Makes you realize how 
fortunate we are that he's the one who ended up on this planet."

"Yeah," Ben replied, "have to wonder how he holds it together 
though.  If I didn't have the other guys to blow off steam with 
I'd go nuts."

"What do you mean?" Lois asked.



"Everyday people have no idea what we go though," Ben said.  "I 
don't mean you, LoLo, you've been around, but the average guy on 
the street hasn't a clue.  We all know what the score is and we 
know when things reach a boiling point in the station house.  We 
joke and prank around and after a fire like this or any accident 
with severe injuries or a death the department even has some guys 
come in to do an incident debriefing."

"Incident debriefing?" Lois interrupted to ask.

"Yeah, it's called a critical incident stress debriefing or CISD.  
A team made up of firemen, police, medics, etc. usually with 
someone specializing in mental health.  They come around after an 
incident like this and we talk about what happened.  It's not a 
time to second-guess things or play the 'What if' game, it's just 
a time to talk about what happened and helps you process all of 
the stuff going on in your head.  I could have really used it in 
that situation with the kid back when I was a rookie.  It sure 
works great now. "  

"I just wonder how he," Ben said, nodding toward Superman, 
"handles things like that.  You know he sees terrible stuff all 
of the time.  Heck, considering that he covers the entire world 
in a given day, he may see that kind of stuff every day.  But he 
still keeps a positive attitude and he keeps coming back for 
more.  Like I said, amazing."

"How long do you think one of your guys could function that way?"  
Lois asked.

"Oh, hell, LoLo," Ben said, shaking his head, "it's hard to say.  
We got along for years without the CISD teams.  But any emergency 
service worker, fireman, cop, EMT, or whatnot will tell you that 
we have the highest burnout and suicide rates in any profession.  
I know I handle things a whole lot better now and I was one of 
the ones who made fun of the whole process when the department 
started using them a few years back.  So, long answer short, not 
sure how long one would last, but I bet the rookies we're putting 
on the streets today will last a lot longer because of them."

"But how long can a Superman last?" Lois said, almost to herself.

"I guess that would depend on what he has at home, LoLo," Ben 
said.  "Does he go home to a supportive family or friends?  Does 
he have his own version of a CISD team back at that fortress 
you've written about?  Or maybe he just spends a lot of money on 
therapy."

"Yeah," Lois said, "that is the question.  What does he go home 
to?"

**********

Clark came through the window of his apartment at superspeed and 
slowed as he passed his couch, but remained floating several 
inches off the floor as he headed for the bathroom.  He was 
uniformly covered with soot from head to foot and his mother had 
taught him enough as a child not to track dirt into the house.

Entering the bathroom, he pulled off his uniform and tossed it 
into the hamper before entering the shower.  Under normal 
circumstances, Clark could take a shower in a matter of seconds, 
but tonight he slowed to human speed or perhaps somewhat slower 
and simply allowed the water to wash over him as he stood with 
his head bowed and one arm braced against the wall for balance. 

Twenty minutes later, he stepped out of the shower and toweled 
off.  Putting on his robe, he entered the living room and crossed 
over to a desk with a computer and sat down.  People who visited 
Clark's apartment were few and far between, but the ones who did 
always remarked about how clean and tidy everything was.  Clark 
always thanked them politely, but would remark to himself that 
cleanliness was easy when one was seldom home.  Between his two 
"jobs," he did little including sleep at his apartment.  He 
mainly used it as a place to keep his belongings and to write the 
story of any of his activities that were newsworthy.  Booting up 
his computer, he began to do exactly that.  Writing the story 
about the fire and "quoting" Superman in a few places, as well as 
the few speculations that the firemen had voiced to him and not 
pointed out to be kept confidential.  

When he was finished, he transmitted the story to the Planet's 
server for the night editor to review for the morning edition and 
then went to bed.  It might only be three hours' sleep, but for 
one of the few times in his life Clark felt he needed every 
minute of it.  At least Perry would be happy to get the inside 
scoop on the fire, and maybe the rest of the morning could be 
tranquil as well and allow Clark at least a few hours to focus on 
just one job.

**********

"What the hell is this, Kent?"

Clark's head raised up from where he was pouring coffee and he 
turned around to face the speaker.

"And a good morning to you too, Lois," he said as he extended the 
second cup of coffee in his hands made to her preferences.

He had picked up the sudden elevation of her heart rate a few 
minutes ago and knew that, whatever was going on, the coffee 
would be a necessary step in keeping peace in the newsroom.  He 
tried with varying amounts of success most days to ignore or 
rationally explain why he was attuned to the sound of her 
heartbeat.  He had found that ignoring the issue usually worked 
better than attempting to explain what had become increasingly 
unexplainable over the last couple of years.

Lois drew up short as she took the coffee almost automatically 
and then suddenly shook her head as she started to bring it to 
her mouth for a drink.

"Don't try to change the subject, Smallville.  I thought I warned 
you years ago about stepping on my turf."

"And I have remained suitably fearful and reverent since that 
date, Lois."

"Obviously not fearful or reverent enough.  You stepped all over 
my byline about the fire over on Lincoln."

"Your byline?" Clark asked  "I, uh, didn't see you there last 
night, Lois."

"Yeah, and I didn't see you either, so how did you manage to pull 
this off?" she said gesturing with the morning edition in her 
hand.  "And with quotes?  Don't tell me you played the Good Ol' 
Boy trick again, Smallville, or I may have to deck you."

Clark cursed himself for his carelessness in missing her last 
night, but he'd been in such a hurry to get home he'd forgotten 
to even look around for the press.

"No, I showed up just as Superman got there so I guess my 
attention was more on him than the crowd.  Probably yours, too, 
which is why we missed each other.  You know I would have run in 
the other direction back to bed if I'd known the Planet already 
had someone there."

Clark flashed a brilliant smile at Lois with a look of what he 
hoped to be suitable contriteness and backed by all of the Kent 
charm he could muster hoping to distract her from thinking too 
closely about whether or not she was that distracted by the Man 
of Steel.

"Spare me the wattage, Smallville.  You get a free pass, THIS 
time, but only because Perry thought I had enough for a sidebar 
piece to yours AND if you'll answer a few questions for me."

"Questions, Lois?" Clark asked, not having to fake the 
nervousness in his voice.

Clark and Lois had become friends and even occasionally partners 
over the past few years, but Clark still had not stopped having 
that slightly nervous feeling whenever in her presence.  It 
worsened when her thinking took light speed turns and Clark 
realized he had met one of the few people in the world who could 
possibly stay a few steps ahead of him.  

For her part, Lois tried to ignore the feeling she had whenever 
they worked closely together and came into physical contact.  As 
she grabbed his arm to pull him toward the conference room, she 
was again reminded of how solid he was despite the way he acted 
at times, and the realization was quickly followed by thoughts 
about what he had hidden under those clothes.  Lois, the victim 
of numerous federal disasters, usually tried desperately not to 
consider her sometimes partner in that light and generally 
succeeded, but not always.

The problem, she told herself, was that she knew she made him 
nervous and it gave her a perverse pleasure at times to do things 
that increased that nervousness.  She didn't set out to do it, 
and God knew the thought of being a tease mortified her, but 
there was something about that calm, mild-mannered demeanor that 
cried out to be messed with. 

Mentally shaking herself back into reality, she continued pulling 
him toward the conference room and didn't turn him loose until 
they were inside with the door closed.

"What questions?" Clark asked again suspiciously as he tried to 
sit nonchalantly on the edge of the conference room table.

"Exactly how well do you know Superman, Kent?  And don't try that 
'aw shucks, country boy' routine with me, it lost its 
believability about five seconds after you turned in your first 
big story."

"Well," Clark said, having to swallow a couple of times to 
counteract the dryness in this mouth and throat. "I guess I know 
him about as well as anyone does.  I mean, he tends to keep 
everyone at a distance, so I know him about as well as he allows 
me to."

"I'm the babbler of this partnership, Kent.  Don't forget my rule 
about treading on my turf.  Now, how 'well' does he 'allow' you 
to know him?"

"Hold it, what do you mean, 'partnership'? " Clark said, 
overcoming his mounting anxiety.  "I thought you said the last 
time you and I were partnered that it was 'Ok, but let's not make 
a habit of it'."

"I also said that I'd decide when it happened again and so I am.  
I'm offering to let you in on the ground floor, farm boy.  You 
don't want in, that's fine.  You just answer my questions and go 
on about your business."

"What questions?"

Lois dropped her head in exasperation.  

"You do that just to irritate me, don't you?"

"Sorry," Clark said, sounding apologetic, but trying to hide his 
smile before she looked up. "I wasn't thinking there for a 
moment."

"Then let's take it from the top," Lois said, looking up and 
pinning him with her stare.  "How well do you know Superman?"

"Well, like I said, I know a little about him, enough to speak to 
him and have a conversation, but it's all superficial.  I don't 
know anything you probably don't."

"But you've known him longer."

"Well, yeah, but it's not like we sat down and had any heart to 
hearts.  It's always been pretty much the way it is now."

"So, nothing you've been keeping off the record for an old high 
school friend?"

"High school friend?  Lois, you make it sound like we shared a 
locker and ate fudge rounds in the cafeteria together.  I think a 
kid in tights with a cape would have been noticed at Smallville 
High."

"You know what I mean, Smallville.  Have you been keeping 
anything back from public consumption?"

"Well, Lois, if I was then it probably wouldn't be a good idea to 
share it with Metropolis' number one investigative reporter, now, 
would it?"

He said it so earnestly that Lois felt a smile start to form on 
her lips before she caught herself.  

"You're good, Kent, but flattery won't even get you to first 
base, let alone knock my concentration out of the ballpark."

Lois's inadvertent turn of phrase occurred to her even as she 
said it and she felt her cheeks flush.  Seeing a weakness form in 
his opponent's armor, Clark quickly moved to exploit it.

"Well, first base with Lois Lane might knock anyone's 
concentration out of the park," he said, flashing his most 
charming smile and getting up from the table so as to move closer 
into her personal space, but not appear threatening.  He wanted 
to distract her and make her a bit angry, but not invite sexual 
harassment charges.

Lois stepped back, blushing even more furiously, but caught onto 
Clark's trick immediately.  Clark was not a forward person where 
sex was concerned.  Enough women around the Planet had tried over 
the years, with little success.  Some had even speculated that he 
was gay, but Lois knew different.  Not because of anything he had 
said or done with her, but from every little fidget or clumsy 
maneuver that he exhibited when she was close.  That and well, 
something else, she just wasn't sure how to describe it.  He 
definitely felt an attraction for her, but would never follow 
through on it, for whatever reason.  

No, he was hiding something and, whatever that something was, 
Clark Kent, the original Mr. Lone Wolf, was willing to play this 
kind of game to hide it.  But that was ok.  Lois Lane was her 
father's daughter and so she didn't mind competition and she 
rarely lost at any game.  Pulling herself up short, she met 
Clark's gaze, arched an eyebrow and stepped forward to within 
inches of him.

"If first base could do that then you should see the seventh 
inning stretch," she said.

She almost laughed when she saw the fear flicker in his eyes as 
they widened almost imperceptibly and he took an involuntary step 
backward, bumping into the table and almost losing his balance.

'Now," she continued, "are you through with your little game or 
were you hoping for some early batting practice?"

Lois moved another step closer and continued to hold his gaze.  
That was when she saw it.  Hunger.  The other "something" she had 
considered earlier, but couldn't place a word to.  It was only 
there for an instant, but it was unmistakable.  A deep longing 
that didn't make her feel the least bit threatened, but a bit 
excited.  The look that replaced it disappeared even more 
quickly, but was equally as obvious.  Sadness.  A wall seemed to 
close over Clark's face at that point and the calm, mild-mannered 
look that she now knew to be a facade returned.

Whatever kept Clark from getting close to anyone probably caused 
him as much pain, or more, than actually, what he risked by 
getting close, Lois thought to herself.  But, then again, she 
didn't live in his skin so that was probably easy for her to say.

Their gazes remained locked for several seconds without anyone 
saying a word until Clark broke the connection and moved to put 
distance between the two of them and kept his face averted.

"Seriously, Lois, I doubt I know anything more than you do about 
Superman."

"I'm sorry," she said, surprising herself as well as him with the 
statement.

"What?  No, don't be silly.  We were just kidding around.  I'm 
sorry I joked like that.  It wasn't appropriate.  You just wanted 
to know some information.  But you said it was for a story and 
hinted you might need my help, so why don't you fill me in?"

Lois listened to Clark babble and watched as he composed himself 
and was again able to maintain eye contact. Her apology hadn't 
been for the joking around, but for the pain she had seen in him.  
She knew, however, that now was not the time to bring that up, so 
she smiled and sat down at the table and he sat in a seat across 
from her.

"A friend of mine brought to my attention the amount of 
psychological stress that emergency workers function under.  
Superman's the ultimate emergency worker and the question was 
raised about how he handles it.  I just wanted to see if you had 
any insight."

Clark seemed taken aback for a moment and his brow furrowed in 
confusion.

"I...I guess I never really thought about it.  He deals with it 
because he has to.  Losing it isn't an option for a Superman."

"Come on, Clark.  If it were that simple, then emergency workers 
wouldn't have the problems they do.  I researched it.  Higher 
incidents of suicide, burnout and stress-related health problems.  
Don't tell me that Superman is invulnerable psychologically too."

"Of course not, Lois.  But I don't hardly think he's a candidate 
for therapy either."

"I never said he was, Clark.  Why are you getting defensive?  I 
just want to know how he deals with it."

"This just sounds like a touchy-feely piece, Lois.  Not your 
style at all, so why are you interested?"

Lois fought the urge to raise an eyebrow at the query.  Clark 
wasn't denying his defensiveness and was trying to change the 
subject again, just with different tactics.

"It's not touchy-feely if it affects a million emergency service 
workers and it sure isn't if it involves the mental health of a 
man who can destroy mountain ranges."

"You think there's something wrong with his mental health?!" 
Clark asked incredulously.  

"No, no, Clark.  I really don't.  But I am concerned.  Not just 
because of a story, but personally as well.  How does he handle 
the things that he sees or has to deal with?  It has to take its 
toll."

"It probably isn't as serious as you think, Lois.  I mean, sure, 
he sees some pretty bad things, but he sees a lot of good stuff 
too.  He probably just balances it out somehow in his head.  
Really, I just think you're worrying about something that isn't 
even an issue."

"Maybe," Lois said, backing away from the conversation.  Clark 
was acting strangely, even more than usual, and didn't appear to 
be looking at this matter too objectively.

At that moment, the conference room door opened and Jimmy Olsen 
stuck his head in.  

"Hey, guys, you gotta come see what's on TV.  The police just 
served the warrant on Maxwell at City Hall, but he took his 
secretary hostage and there's now a stand-off."

Robert Maxwell had been Lois and Clark's last big story together.  
Maxwell was the deputy mayor and had been implicated in a 
kickback scandal involving city contracts.  The entire matter had 
blown up in his face when the press box at the new municipal 
stadium had collapsed during a game, severely injuring all of its 
occupants.  Superman had arrived almost immediately, which 
prevented there being any fatalities and he had later reported to 
investigators seeing signs of severe metal fatigue and 
instability in the concrete throughout the stadium.  

His report had been born out by the findings of the investigation 
and Perry had assigned Lois and Clark to work on the story as a 
team to focus on both the contractor and the money trail back to 
City Hall.  The trail had eventually led to Maxwell and their 
investigation had provided the authorities with the evidence 
needed to proceed with an arrest.

Forgetting for the moment her questions regarding Clark's 
behavior, Lois bolted from her chair and ran out into the bullpen 
where the TV was reporting the current hostage situation.

"Clark, tell Perry I'm heading over..." Lois said, turning toward 
her erstwhile partner, only to find him not at her side as 
expected.  

She turned full circle trying to locate him, but was 
unsuccessful.

"Jimmy," she asked her younger colleague. "Where did Clark go?"

"Huh?" Jimmy said, looking at her and then turning to scan the 
room.  "I thought he was right here."

"Damn him," Lois muttered and then turned toward the elevator 
calling over her shoulder, "Jimmy, tell Perry I'm heading over to 
City Hall."

"You'd better hurry, it's almost over," Jimmy said, pointing to 
the TV.

"What?" Lois asked as she stopped in mid stride and turned to 
look up at the TV where Jimmy was pointing.

Superman had arrived on the scene.

**********

The police officer moved the barricade aside and waved through an 
unmarked car followed by the Special Crimes Unit van.  The car 
pulled to a stop at the curb and the van pulled to the side.  As 
the back of the van opened and a squad of armored police officers 
jumped out, a tall woman with short hair and body armor matching 
those of the other officers got out of the car.

Maggie Sawyer was having a bad day.  She had forgotten to take 
her blood pressure medicine this morning, had been late for work 
due to traffic and was a month behind on staff evaluations.  Now, 
on a day she had set aside just for paperwork, some idiot decided 
to stage a crime serious enough to call out the Special Crimes 
Unit.  Correction, not just some idiot, but the deputy mayor 
himself, who was currently holding his secretary hostage.

"What's the matter, Bill?" Sawyer, said approaching a middle-aged 
man in a gray trench coat and matching hat from behind. "Can't 
you even serve an arrest warrant without letting things go to 
hell in a hand-basket?"

"Har-dee-har-har, Sawyer," Inspector Henderson replied, turning 
to the SCU commander.  "Who the hell knew the twerp even had a 
gun, let alone the stones to use it?"

"You mean no one checked to see if he had one registered?" she 
asked, amazed.

"He doesn't show up as ever registering one, so I'm assuming it's 
illegal unless he snagged it from someone else in there.  God 
knows, every idiot in City Hall that qualified for a concealed 
weapons permit got one the day after they were hired.  That's why 
it stuck out that he didn't have one registered."

Sawyer shook her head and looked around the scene.  

"News people got here awfully fast," she commented.

"That one was our fault," Henderson said.  "They arrived to set 
up for some kind of press conference just as we were going in to 
serve the warrant.  Renee Guest from Channel 6 recognized me and 
had her guy start filming before we got in the front door.  We 
think that's what tipped off Maxwell because he had the gun out 
and already had the secretary when he got to his office."

"Wonderful," Maggie grumbled, her gaze zeroing in for a moment on 
the blonde with the Channel 6 microphone talking into a camera.  

"We know who the secretary is?" she asked, looking back at Bill.

"Jennifer Bowers," Henderson said, looking at his notepad. 
"Single, 26 years old, she's worked for Maxwell for the past 
year."

"Hostage negotiator here yet?" Sawyer asked.

"Just got here.  The tech boys are splicing into the office lines 
now so the media can't listen in.  If Maxwell will answer, he 
should be on the phone in just a couple of minutes.  You got a 
fallback plan yet?"

"Simmons is deploying the men now.  Snipers are heading for the 
adjacent roofs, but the rest are just for show.  We dropped 
Turpin and a team a couple of blocks back.  They're heading for 
the sub-basement through the sewer system.  They'll set up inside 
near Maxwell's office and await deployment orders there."

"A squad's going in and you didn't want to join them?"

"I'm the new media darling," Maggie said with a scowl.  "If I 
wasn't in plain view of the cameras, everyone would know 
something is up."

Henderson laughed and turned back to watch the building looking 
for any sign of movement from Maxwell's window.

"Any sign of the big guy yet?" Maggie asked after a moment, 
glancing briefly up at the sky.

"Not yet, but it should be any time now, what with all of the 
media on the scene.  But, hell, he could be somewhere in space 
stopping an asteroid or fighting a flood in China for all I know.  
His beat's a pretty big one."

"Well, we shouldn't get too used to him anyway," Sawyer replied.  
"We don't need to get soft."

"'Soft'," Henderson said, "is not a term I think you ever need 
worry that someone will apply to you."

Maggie barked a laugh as she headed toward the hostage negotiator 
with Bill at her side.

"Now, you're just gonna make me blush," she said.

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

Across the street away from the police cordon, a tall man with a 
patch over one eye stood slightly apart from the crowd looking up 
toward the Deputy Mayor's window.  His face wore a sour scowl and 
he shook his head slightly as he took a cell phone from his 
pocket.  He flipped the phone open and pressed the "send" button 
without even bothering to dial a number.

"Yes?" came a voice from the other end.

"He's barricaded himself in his office and has his secretary 
hostage."

"Damn!" the voice grunted.  "What's the police situation like?"

"They have the place locked down tight and the SCU just arrived.  
Standard deployment, but I'd bet the SCU has another team working 
to get inside for a more direct assault."

"Any sign of 'outside' interference?"

"No sign of him yet," the man replied, knowing exactly to whom 
the other was referring, "but, I doubt that'll be the case for 
much longer."

"Can you neutralize Maxwell?"

"Certainly, but not without attracting a lot of attention while 
I'm doing it.  And if the 'interference' arrives while I'm in the 
middle of it, I might have some trouble getting away even with my 
'insurance'.  It's probably best to let the police solve our 
problem for us."

"And what if they don't take care of it?  We can't afford to have 
him taken alive."

"I have an independent contractor who can take him out after he's 
in custody if it comes to that."

"Independent contractor?" hissed the voice.  "Can't you do it 
yourself?  I thought you were supposed to be the best?"

"Mind your tongue.  You might be paying me money for my services, 
but never make the mistake of thinking that I work for you.  The 
contractor's expendable and doesn't know anything about your 
organization.  I don't fit either of those categories.  But, if 
you don't think I'm the best perhaps I need to provide you with a 
personal demonstration."

"No, no," the voice said quickly. "I didn't mean anything by 
that.  I just don't want anything to go wrong.  You were hired 
because you're the best.  I just want the job done right."

"Then trust that you've spent your money wisely and let me do 
what I was hired to do.  If I need to act directly then I will, 
but until then I have other avenues I can pursue."  After a brief 
pause, the man continued, "Just remember, I don't like to be 
second guessed."

"Yes, of course," the voice on the telephone said.  "As I said, 
you're the best.  I trust you'll take care of matters."

"Exactly," the man said.  

Before he could add anything else though a heightened murmur and 
pointing from the crowd drew his attention skyward.

"Uh oh, gotta go.  'Interference' has just arrived," he said as 
he ended the phone call.

**********

Clark had left the conference room on Lois's heels, but had 
turned toward in the direction of the stairwell rather than the 
TV.  After ascertaining that no one was looking in his direction, 
his pace increased and he became a blur of motion.  His departure 
into the stairwell was so quick that the opening and closing of 
the stairwell door was as a single, brief sound barely 
distinguishable from the normal background noise of the building.

Once in the stairwell, he never touched a step, but became an 
airborne blur, changing clothes as he ascended toward the roof 
door and out into the sky above.

As he approached City Hall Superman replayed the conversation 
with Lois in his mind.  Was he bothered by some of the things he 
encountered on the job?  Sure, it could be pretty gruesome at 
times, but most of his activities involved preventing things from 
getting to that point.  

He shook his head.  Lois was just overreacting.  He'd been doing 
this stuff since he was thirteen.  If it were going to get to him 
it would have done so a long time before now.  He didn't feel any 
different than he always had except possibly just some wiriness 
from the weight of continued experience.  Surely he would notice 
it if he started feeling "stressed."

He laughed to himself as he spotted Bill Henderson and Maggie 
Sawyer and dipped down toward the police command post.  At least, 
that was, if he felt any more "stressed" than was normal for a 
man living two lives, working to meet deadlines, fighting 
criminal AND dealing with Lois Lane.

**********

Robert Maxwell was in a panic.  He had been tipped off several 
days ago that his connection to the whole stadium fiasco was 
being investigated and when he had turned on the TV to watch 
Renee Guest's commentary on the impending news conference about 
the proposed citywide budget cuts he knew the jig was up.  

Maxwell had passed Guest earlier setting up for her newscast just 
outside City Hall.  When he saw her interrupt her cameraman to 
have him follow a couple of policemen and a grim-faced Inspector 
Henderson as they passed behind her, he was startled.  When he 
saw them turn down a particular hallway after entering the 
building he knew they could only have one destination.

Before he had even realized what he was considering, he had 
grabbed his gun from his briefcase and headed toward the outer 
office where his secretary, Jennifer, sat.  He reached it just as 
the door opened and Henderson stepped through.  Maxwell grabbed 
Jennifer and put the gun to her head before Henderson could even 
say a word.  The two officers trailing him quickly pulled theirs 
and within seconds all were engaged in a standoff.

"Maxwell," Henderson had said, holding his hands up palms 
outward, "you don't want to do this.  It'll only make matters 
worse.  Put down the gun.  No one's going to hurt you."

"Damn right! At least not as long as I've got Jennifer here. Now 
back off.  I want you out of the building.  If I don't see you 
out on the front lawn in three minutes I'm going to blow her head 
off!"

"Ok, Ok, we're going.  But you know it isn't going to be that 
easy."

"Whatever, just back the hell off!"

Henderson and the other officers had left and Maxwell pulled 
Jennifer into his office to watch out the window as the situation 
rapidly grew out of his control and the crowd outside had grown.  
He knew his options were becoming limited because this was 
Metropolis and no hostage situation lasted long here and the 
clock was ticking.  With the arrival of the SCU the lump in his 
chest grew and he knew his chances were dimming even more.  

The descent of Superman from the sky a few moments later didn't 
improve his anxiety.

**********

"Keep that freak away from me!" Maxwell screamed out the window, 
pressing the gun even tighter to the head of his hostage.

"Freak?" Maggie said, turning to Henderson.

"Think that would justify constituting it as a hate crime if he 
fires on Supes?" Henderson asked.

"Probably not.  We'd better just go for the usual Reckless 
Endangerment charges if he does that."

"You charge everybody who shoots at me with Reckless 
Endangerment?" Superman asked as he approached the two.

"Hell, yes," Maggie said.  "We charge them with jaywalking if we 
can.  Bastards usually have a hundred different attorneys waiting 
for us by the time we reach the station house.  We hit them with 
enough charges, then something has to stick."

"Besides," Henderson added, "when some idiot starts bouncing 
bullets all over the place he needs to be held accountable for 
the danger he places everybody else in.  We just charge them for 
every crime they commit and let the D.A. decide what'll he'll use 
and what he won't."

"In Maxwell's case," Henderson added with a grin, "in addition to 
what he was originally being charged with he's already added 
Resisting Arrest, Terroristic Threatening, Possession of an 
Illegal Firearm, and False Imprisonment.  He tangles with you and 
we'll at least get Reckless Endangerment and Discharging a 
Firearm Within the City Limits.  All of it in full view of the 
news crews who are capturing it all for posterity if not material 
evidence."

Superman shook his head and offered a slight smile before 
continuing with the business at hand.

"What's the situation?"

"Pretty much what you see." Henderson replied.  "Maxwell has one 
hostage, his secretary, and as far as we know only one handgun.  
He's threatened the hostage and ordered the police out of the 
building, but so far hasn't made any other demands."

"But we'll see in a second," he added, nodding toward the hostage 
negotiator who had apparently made contact with Maxwell as he now 
had a phone to his ear.

"We don't believe he's really thought this through," Maggie said.  
"It seems like the whole thing was more spur of the moment when 
he got surprised with Henderson showing up with a warrant."

"You'd think after living in this town as long as he has he'd 
know better than this," Henderson said, turning his gaze back to 
the window where Maxwell had been a few moments before.

"I'll never understand what makes anyone do something like this," 
Superman said, shaking his head as he too looked up toward the 
window.

"You know what they say, Superman," Henderson said.  "We're all 
just one bad day away from becoming our own worst nightmare."

Superman looked at Henderson briefly, seeming to contemplate the 
statement, but quickly turned his gaze back to the window without 
comment.

"Do you see anything?" Maggie asked.

"Like you said, only one handgun and he has it to the poor girl's 
head.  We'll need to coordinate a plan to make this end as easily 
as possible."

"Can't you just grab the gun at super speed?" Maggie asked.

"No," Superman replied. "Too dangerous.  If I moved too slow it 
would give him an opportunity to shoot and if I moved too fast to 
be seen I would probably rip his arm off grabbing the gun."

Maggie continued to look at Superman without speaking.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm not seeing the downside of the plan yet," she said.

Superman's eyed widened slightly as he realized he couldn't tell 
if she was joking or not, but was interrupted by Henderson's hand 
on his arm before he could ask.  

"Don't mind her, Superman, she skipped Due Process at the Academy 
in favor of extra credit riot control classes.  Come on, it looks 
like the negotiator has him on the phone.  We'll see if talking 
things out is an option."

"Humphhh, it's like people think riots take care of themselves," 
Maggie muttered to herself.

Henderson rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored her as he 
approached the hostage negotiator with Superman at his side.  The 
negotiator was hanging up the phone as they approached.



"What happened?" Henderson asked.

"He's losing it," the negotiator said.  "He won't talk until 
Superman gets out of here."

"He has to know that it doesn't matter whether Superman is here 
or not. He's not walking away from this," Maggie said.

"I don't think it matters at this point," the negotiator said.  
"He's panicked and becoming irrational."

"I agree," Superman said, staring up at the Deputy Mayor's office 
window.  "His pulse and blood pressure are elevated and his voice 
is becoming high-pitched with hysteria.  He could lose control at 
any moment."

"So what do we do?" Henderson asked.

"Maggie," Superman said, still staring up at the widow, "tell 
your men to stand down.  They're about to hear a single gunshot 
and then it should be over."

Maggie stared at Superman for a second and then quickly grabbed 
her radio and then began broadcasting the stand-down order.

For his part, Superman continued to stare intently at Maxwell 
watching his every movement.  His finger was tensing and 
untensing on the trigger of the gun, as was his hand on the grip 
as stiffness began to set in.  When his grip loosened briefly on 
the gun and he straightened his finger, Superman fired a short 
burst of heat vision at the sprinkler head above him.  

As the sprinkler went off, Maxwell moved the gun away from his 
hostage's head as he cast a startled glance at the ceiling and 
Superman then fired a second burst of heat vision at Maxwell's 
trigger finger.  The sudden sting in his finger caused it to 
involuntarily convulse and contract on the trigger and the gun 
discharged into the ceiling.  As the gun's slide moved to eject 
the shell Superman fired a third and more powerful burst of heat 
vision.  This burst flash-welded the slide in the open position 
preventing it from moving back into place and chambering another 
round.

Before the police could react to these developments, Superman 
disappeared from the crowd and reappeared at Maxwell's side and 
grabbed his gun arm, holding it aloft.  The entire sequence of 
events had taken two seconds from the time Superman had told 
Maggie to issue the stand down order till he had Maxwell by the 
arm.

Maxwell stared in shock at the man beside him who held his arm in 
an unbreakable grip.  When he finally found his voice, though, it 
was Superman's turn to be surprised.

"I wasn't in on the stadium thing alone.  I was just following 
orders.  If I can make a deal and you promise to protect me, I'll 
name names.  I'll give you InterGang."

**********

When Lois exited the Daily Planet building, she had already made 
up her mind that City Hall was a dead issue.  Things happened 
with lightning speed in Metropolis and with Superman on the scene 
the matter would be settled and Maxwell on his way to booking 
before she even made it to the building.  Besides she noted 
glumly, Clark Kent already had the jump on her.  But, she 
reminded herself, she was Lois Lane and the Maxwell story had 
originally been half hers.  While Clark might have the jump in 
speed, Lois knew how the system worked and had the jump in 
deviousness.

Henderson would know what a media circus there would be wherever 
booking took place and would take steps to avoid it entirely.  
Traffic would undoubtedly be blocked off when they left City Hall 
with his prisoner so he couldn't be followed and he would avoid 
all of the logical places with high security because that would 
be where the media would be lined up waiting for him.  No, he 
would choose an out-of-the-way precinct not noted for being 
suited to deal with high profile cases, but one where the natural 
architecture and location could work toward limiting access and 
providing security.  He would know that it would soon get out 
where Maxwell was being held, but at least booking could be 
completed with relatively little hassle and perhaps some 
interrogation as well.  Or so he could hope, she thought with a 
grin to herself, because she knew exactly where he could go that 
would meet all of those criteria.

The desk sergeant raised his head when she walked through the 
front doors of the 102nd precinct and broke into a grin.  Lois 
was puzzled until she saw him hold his hand out to another 
officer, who had a glum look on his face as he placed a $20 bill 
in the sergeant's hand.

"Hey, Murphy," Lois called as she approached the sergeant, "don't 
tell me I'm getting predictable." 

"Only for your unpredictability, Laney," Murphy said as he 
pocketed the money.

"They here yet?"

"On their way.  Henderson's not going to be real happy that 
you're here, you know."

"Since when is Henderson ever happy?" Lois said with a grin.

"Actually," Murphy said, "I've seen him happy plenty of times.  
Just none that I can recall when you're around."

"Every Irishman thinks he's a comedian," Lois replied as she 
rolled her eyes. 

"How'd you figure out he was coming here, anyway?" Murphy asked.

"Because you cops *are* predictable," Lois said with a smirk.

"Irishman and girl reporters apparently share the same delusion," 
Murphy said with a grimace.  

"Girl?" Lois said, her eyebrows raised and all trace of humor 
vanishing from her voice.

"Hey, it's a felony to strike an officer of the law," Murphy 
said, holding his hands up and moving back from the desk 
slightly. "I just thought you should know."

"I don't see nothing," the other officer said as he spun around 
to continue sorting through some mail, and Murphy cast a sour 
glance at his back.

"With the number of witnesses apparently dwindling, my criminal 
record might still remain secure should I take exception to the 
phrase 'girl reporter', Murph."

"Point taken, Laney," Murphy said, laughing and returning to his 
paperwork.

Lois dropped down on a bench located beside the entrance to wait.  
A teenager who had been sitting there already turned to her with 
a large smile on his face.  He was dressed in a silk jogging suit 
and had several gold chains around his neck and a large diamond 
pinky ring on his right hand.

"Hey, babe," he said as Lois sat down.

She turned to him and stared.  Her face was blank of expression 
and she never said a word.

The boy's smile faltered somewhat and died completely after 
several seconds of silence before he finally turned away, 
blushing scarlet with embarrassment.

Lois continued staring at him for a couple of seconds before 
turning away and leaning back with her arms crossed and her legs 
stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

At his desk Murphy laughed even harder to himself.

"Hey, babe," he said, echoing the youth and shaking his head as 
he laughed.

The kid turned even redder and sank down further in his chair.  

Lois closed her eyes and settled back to wait patiently for 
Henderson's arrival.

**********

Fifteen minutes after Superman apprehended Robert Maxwell, 
Inspector Bill Henderson escorted him through the doors of the 
102nd precinct.  Henderson was feeling a bit smug with himself at 
the moment as he had bottlenecked the streets around City Hall 
with police vehicles and had executed what he thought to be a 
secretive exit with Maxwell to the 102nd for booking.  Henderson 
was eager to get Maxwell into interrogation as quickly as 
possible to hear what the man had to say and he didn't want to 
have to deal with a lot of reporters' questions before he did so.  
His smugness, however, was shattered by two words.

"Hey, Bill."



Henderson froze in mid stride and closed his eyes briefly, 
uttering a silent curse before turning to find Lois Lane seated 
on the visitor's bench grinning like the proverbial cat that had 
swallowed the canary.

"What the hell are you doing here, Lane?" he asked through 
gritted teeth.

"Exercising my First Amendment rights as a member of the news 
media," she responded with a smile.

"No comment," Henderson deadpanned as he turned around and began 
to direct Maxwell toward a side door, his once cheerful mood now 
decidedly darkened.

"Hold on, Henderson," Lois said as she rushed to jump in front of 
the two men.  "Let me rephrase that.  I'm here to call in a favor 
since it was information gained from *my* investigation that led 
to this arrest."

"If memory serves," Henderson said, "the 'my' you refer to had 
another name attached, or is Kent just a figment of my 
imagination?"

"Well, he did have some small amount of input, but I figured you 
paid him back for that back at City Hall."

"City Hall?"

"A few minutes ago.  The arrest.  Lots of news cameras and police 
cars.  Am I ringing any bells yet?"


"I never laid eyes on Kent back there, Lane, and I really don't 
want to be laying eyes on you right now either, for that matter.  
Now if you'll excuse me..."

"Kent didn't get any info from you before the arrest?" Lois asked 
as she dug in her pocket for her mini-cassette recorder and held 
it out toward the two men.  "Perfect, then you can fill me in on 
all of the details along with any comments Mr. Maxwell wants to 
make now for the record."

"I said 'no comment', Lane," Henderson said, batting the recorder 
away and pulling Maxwell further toward the side door.

"Hold it," Maxwell said, "I'll talk to her."

"What?!" Henderson asked in surprise as he turned to his 
prisoner.

"These are important people we're dealing with, Henderson," 
Maxwell whispered.  "It's not just a matter of someone naming 
names and it becomes a slam dunk for the prosecution.  If you're 
going to get a conviction and I'm going to get out of this 
without having to look over my shoulder the rest of my life, then 
the press in going to have to be involved.  These people are 
going to have to be convicted in the court of public opinion long 
before they go before a judge."

"Yeah, Henderson," Lois said, "you heard the man.  He wants to 
talk to me."

"To us, you mean," said a voice behind them.

Turning toward the voice, Lois, Henderson and Maxwell found a 
frowning Clark Kent standing behind them.

"Lois," Clark said, glaring at his co-worker, "what are you doing 
here?"

"That's what I wanted to know," Henderson said, throwing his 
hands up, "but what the hell, doesn't seem like my secret hiding 
place is all that secret anyway so why not invite the entire 
Metropolis Press Corps?"

Ignoring Henderson's exasperation, Lois answered Clark.

"The Maxwell story is half mine, remember?"

"The stadium story, yes.  The arrest is another matter entirely.  
I got there first."

"Well," Lois said, dragging the word out, "that would appear to 
be slightly in question at the moment, now, wouldn't it?"

Henderson looked back and forth between the two for a moment as 
they locked eyes with each other and didn't speak.  Clark scowled 
and Lois maintained an impish, innocent smile.

"Have you two set a date yet or are you just planning on 
continuing to live in sin together?" Henderson asked finally.

Lois would have laughed out loud at the redness that instantly 
colored Clark's face if it hadn't been for the heat she felt in 
her own cheeks.  Another voice, however, interrupted before 
either had the need to reply to Henderson's remark.

"Mr. Maxwell won't be talking to anyone until myself and his 
representation have had a chance to meet with him and discuss a 
few things first."

Everyone turned to the speaker, who had entered apparently only 
moments after Clark had made his own surprise appearance.

"Hagan." Henderson greeted the man.  "You made good time."  

Forrest Hagan, Metropolis' second-term District Attorney, nodded 
in acknowledgement to Henderson's greeting.

"Your message suggested haste was desirable," he said, looking 
first at Maxwell and then turning a cold stare at the two Daily 
Planet reporters.  "What are these two doing here?"

"At the moment," Henderson replied, "I'm debating on Loitering or 
Interfering in a Police Investigation.  Which one do you think 
will keep them out of my hair the longest?  Especially the 
shorter one."

Lois turned her head slightly toward Henderson and gave the man a 
frosty glare.

"Try it, Henderson, and I'll have the Planet's lawyers land on 
you so hard you'll be reciting the Bill of Rights in your sleep.  
Besides," she said, turning back to the DA with a smile, "I 
believe Mr. Hagan here still has some political aspirations and 
it wouldn't look nice if he were found harassing the media."

"I might decide to chance it in this case, Ms. Lane.  I seem to 
recall several unflattering stories from you over the past couple 
of years so I probably don't have a lot to lose."

"Ok," Clark interrupted, holding up a hand, "before this 
degenerates down to chest pounding and who has the biggest stick, 
let's try to remember that we're all adults."

Looking back and forth between Henderson and Hagan, Clark 
continued, "One, you owe us.  It was our original information 
that got you Maxwell.  Two, Maxwell himself just said he was 
agreeable to speak with us.  And three," Clark said, leaning in 
close to the two men and lowering his voice, "I don't think 
anyone in this room wants mention of Intergang to get out before 
they're ready."

Clark dropped the bomb casually, as if mentioning the color of 
Maxwell's hair, and waited as the shock subsided.  Henderson was 
the first to recover.

"Who the hell told you anything about Intergang, Kent?"

"It was our investigation that originally uncovered this mess.  
You don't think we'd miss all of the connections, do you?  Right, 
partner?" Clark directed the last to Lois, who had been as 
equally shocked into silence as the two men.

"Uh, yeah, right, Henderson." Lois said quickly recovering and 
taking her cue from Clark.  "What do you think we are? Amateurs?"

Henderson wisely chose not to reply to that, but instead turned 
to Hagan and held the other man's gaze for a few moments before 
the DA finally spoke.

"Ok, here's how things are going to work and it's not a matter 
for debate.  Take it or leave it." He glanced back and forth 
between the two reporters to see if there was going to be an 
argument and, when none was forthcoming, he continued.  
"Henderson and I are going to wait for Maxwell's attorney to show 
up and then we're going to hear what he has to say.  If 
everything checks out and it's worth making a deal over, we're 
going to move him to a safe house tonight.  If Maxwell is 
agreeable, you two can interview him there this evening."

After a short pause, he added, "And I get final approval on every 
thing before it's printed.  If I say no it doesn't see the light 
of day until arrests are made or any trials are over with."

"Now wait just a min...!" Lois started, but was interrupted 
before she could continue.

"That would be completely acceptable, Mr. Hagan," Clark said, 
putting a hand on Lois's arm.

"Acceptable?!" Lois said, outraged, turning to confront Clark.  
"What part of that's acceptable?!"

"Every single thing he said," Clark said in a low voice leaning 
in towards Lois and using his height to emphasize his words.

"Now hold on a minute, buster..." Lois began, but Clark 
interrupted her again, pulling her off to one side and whispering 
to her.

"Which would you prefer Lois, nothing or something, because if 
you push it 'nothing' is exactly what we're going to get.  
Intergang in big enough that Hagan couldn't care less what two 
reporters say about him if he has a chance to bust them wide 
open.  Ending that nightmare would ensure whatever political 
aspirations he has.  He doesn't need us, but we do need his 
cooperation if we're going to get this story."

When he saw Lois start to calm somewhat as she processed what he 
was saying, he added the coup de grace. "A story, I might add, 
that no other reporter in Metropolis has a clue about for the 
moment."

Clark almost smiled when he saw Lois's expression at those words.  
The anger drained instantly from her face, and it seemed a light 
dawned as she realized that she was ahead of everyone else on a 
story, before settling back into a grimace.

"Ok, I'll go along with it, but I'm not happy.  I'm only doing it 
for the sake of the story."

"Of course," Clark said, keeping a straight face, "I understand 
completely.  The truth must be heard."

Lois's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as she looked up at 
Clark.

"No one likes a smart ass, Kent."

Clark's only answer was a grin that lit his entire face and 
almost made Lois smile back involuntarily.  Almost.

"Ok, gentlemen," Clark said, turning back to Henderson and Hagan 
and handing them each a business card, "You have a deal.  Give us 
a call when you're ready and we'll be over, whatever the time."

"It may be late," Hagan said.

"We'll adjust," Lois replied.  "Mom eases up on the curfew if 
it's work-related."

"Thanks again," Clark said quickly, taking Lois's arm and pulling 
her toward the door before Hagan could respond.

As they exited the building, Lois pulled her arm out of Clark's 
grasp.

"You don't have to manhandle me.  I wasn't going to say anything 
else." After a pause she added, "Well, not much anyway."

"It's the 'not much' that had me worried," Clark said over his 
shoulder as he hailed a passing cab.

Lois chose not to respond as they entered the cab.

"So," she ventured, keeping her voice low so as not to be heard 
by the driver, "exactly how did 'we' learn about the Intergang 
connection anyway?"

"I was able to speak to Superman apart from Henderson back at 
City Hall," Clark responded.  "He said that Maxwell made some 
claims in that regard after he was apprehended.  I figured that 
making them think we would leak the information was a good way to 
break the stalemate."

"Well, it definitely got their attention," Lois said.   "Now, 
what's our next move?"

"Our?" Clark asked

"You called it 'our' investigation back there," Lois said 
innocently.  

"That was *our* investigation that bagged Maxwell.  This is 
*mine*.  Besides, need I remind you of the rules *you* set on our 
partnerships?"

"Not at all.  I told you I'd let you know the next time we would 
partner up.  So I'm letting you know," Lois said with an 
indulgent smile as she patted his leg.

Clark looked at her sternly for a second and then spoke.

"Lois Lane's first rule of journalism.  The first reporter..."

"Clark," Lois interrupted, "I know my own rules and, if you want 
to get technical about it, I was the one who got Maxwell to agree 
to an interview."

"But I was..."

"The first one at City Hall. I know, but you didn't speak to 
Maxwell. I did and he agreed to talk to me."

"But I..."

"Got the arrest story first, but that's all you would have except 
that I got the agreement for the interview so, really, we're 
already partners."

Clark opened his mouth to speak, but Lois interrupted yet again.

"Clark, let's be honest.  We can argue about this for the next 
hour and in the end you'll agree I'm right or you can just give 
in now and we can get to work."

Clark sat frozen in place with his mouth half open and a dazed 
look on his face.  Finally, he dropped his head and spoke. 

"When we get back to the Planet we need to put together as much 
information on Intergang as we can so we can be ready to talk to 
Maxwell this evening and know what questions to ask."

"You see?  That wasn't so painful, was it?  I know a couple of 
guys who know guys that I can call and get some information."

"Good thinking, partner," Clark said, raising his head with a 
look of resignation on his face before breaking into a wide 
smile.

It was a smile impossible not to return, and Lois felt heat 
radiate through her body as she suddenly found herself in a 
losing fight against the involuntary flow of blood to her cheeks.  
Ignoring the blush she knew must be on her face, Lois returned 
the smile and leaned her head back in the seat with her eyes 
closed and hummed the rest of the way back to the Planet.

**********

Later that afternoon, Lois sat at her desk, deep in thought.  She 
had phoned her "people who knew people" and compiled all of her 
notes and now she found herself contemplating her current partner 
who was hard at work at his computer several desks away.

She kept thinking about their encounter that morning and the new 
impression of him that she had gained.  She had known Clark for a 
few years now, but he was still something of an enigma to her.  
Perry had partnered the two of them on several stories together 
over the past few years and, as much as Lois grumbled about it in 
public, privately she had to admit that their writing styles 
meshed perfectly together.  The two of them had even become 
friends of a sort and at times seemed to be brushing against 
something more, though usually one or the other was quick to pull 
away.

But, as friendly and open as Clark appeared to be on the surface, 
once she began thinking about it she realized how little she knew 
about him.  Thinking back on past conversations, she realized 
that he always seemed to turn the subject onto her or work or 
something neutral so long as it included himself only in the 
periphery.  He was a master at evasiveness.  Doubly so because 
for years he had been able to redirect her, an award-winning 
reporter used to catching people up in their word games. 

And then there was the fact that his smile made her always want 
to smile back.  In the middle of their worst disagreements, all 
he had to do was smile and she would suddenly find it difficult 
to concentrate on what they were arguing about.  This morning 
when she saw that look that she had categorized as hunger in his 
eyes she felt herself moving almost unconsciously toward him.  
Instinctively moving to feed that hunger.

Whether or not Clark knew it, Lois remembered him from MU and 
their one shared class together and he had made an impression 
upon her even then.  The class had been Ethics in Journalism and 
the lesson Lois had learned during their one personal encounter 
had stayed with her ever since.

**********

Professor Gerald was a big fan of tossing out controversial 
topics to his Ethics in Journalism students and then sitting back 
to watch them go at like participants in a dog fight.

The topic he had thrown out on this spring afternoon was right to 
privacy.  The class had gone back and forth for over one half 
hour debating various points on the matter and one of the loudest 
voices belonged to a brash young junior determined to set the 
world of journalism on fire.  Her name was Lois Lane.

"If someone chooses to set themselves in a public position where 
they are responsible in some way for the public welfare then they 
have no right to privacy.  They sacrificed that right when they 
chose to operate in the public eye.  The public has a right to 
know about the people who presume to operate on their behalf and 
we as the media have the responsibility and the right to 
investigate them."

After making this final point, there was a lull in the room as 
Lois looked around as if challenging anyone to debate her 
profound logic.  A small smile had settled over her face as she 
satisfied herself that no one was going to be so foolish when 
suddenly the silence of the room was interrupted by a quiet voice 
from somewhere behind her.

"We may have the right to something, but don't we have to 
consider whether or not it is right to do it?"

Turning around, she saw a young man in glasses several rows back 
near the door, casually dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved 
button-down blue shirt.  He was staring at her with an open and 
earnest expression, obviously awaiting an answer to his comment.

Looking into his eyes, Lois was overcome with the feeling that 
she somehow knew this young man from somewhere, but shook it off 
as just her imagination.  After all, they had shared a class all 
semester, certainly she must have seen him before.  Finding her 
voice, she finally responded.

"The right to do it?  Isn't it right for us to know about the 
people that supposedly are working on our behalf?"

"I guess that would depend on what you wanted to know.  Are you 
concerned about how he spends the taxpayer's money or are you 
concerned about how he spends his free time?"

"Doesn't how a person spends their free time show a lot about 
their character?"

"Certainly," the young man answered, "but are you concerned about 
his character or how he does his job?"

"One usually determines the other," Lois replied, feeling 
somewhat irritated at this point that this stranger couldn't 
grasp the obvious.

"I agree it often does," the young man responded, "but who are we 
to determine what someone's character is?  If you found out that 
a public works commissioner was a convicted felon, would you feel 
compelled to report that to the public?"

"Absolutely."

"What if his crime was committed years ago, he had paid his debt 
to society and was hired with the full knowledge and confidence 
of city officials and had been doing an extraordinary job since 
assuming the position. Would you still feel compelled to report 
it?"

"The public still has a right to know about the people whose 
salaries they pay and to know whether or not they're employing 
criminals."

"But what would you be accomplishing?  He's not a criminal now.  
The 'people' don't really pay his salary, they pay taxes to the 
city to make sure that things run properly.  The individual in 
question is doing his part of that.  Bringing his past up would 
serve no purpose except to possibly embarrass him and endanger 
his job.  And if he were fired, then you would be the one 
responsible for not only his loss of employment and difficulty 
providing for his family, but also slowing down and interfering 
in the same public works on whose behalf you professed to be 
working."

Lois opened her mouth to reply, and then closed it as she 
realized that she wasn't sure how to respond.  Then the young man 
spoke again.

"I'm not saying that certain people don't need to be exposed, but 
it depends on the circumstances.  My father always taught me that 
you have to balance the right to do something against the 
rightness of doing something.  Some people need to be nailed to 
the wall and that's our responsibility, but some people keep 
secrets for a reason and it has little or nothing to do with 
others."

Before Lois could say anything else, Professor Gerald 
interrupted.

"Thank you for that perspective, Mr. Kent.  Your father's a wise 
man.  On that note, class, we'll break.  Please read Chapter 21 
and the Right to Privacy case studies therein.  It might prove 
enlightening."

"Mr. Kent" disappeared quickly from the room as class ended, but 
Lois took the lesson he left behind to heart.  Her first year at 
the Planet, "Father Kent's Wisdom" was an often-used catch phrase 
when she was espousing some nugget of wisdom to a colleague.  She 
also always remembered whenever she wrote a story not only to ask 
the traditional who, what, when, where, why and how, but also 
what was the "rightness" of the story.  Her dedication to this 
ideal had impressed Perry right off and had even contributed to 
his assigning her riskier and more controversial stories because 
he said he could trust her to handle them "right".

********** 

Lois had fallen out of practice using the "Father Kent's Wisdom" 
phrase after a couple of years, and once Clark started to work at 
the Planet she prayed that none of their co-workers would 
remember the phrase and bring it up to him.  Lois knew it was 
only human to be wrong once in a while, but she'd be damned 
before she admitted it.

Still, Lois never forgot the wisdom itself, and to this day 
continued to use it in all of her stories.  After Clark had 
started at the Planet and she had learned that his parents had 
died several years before, she remembered even feeling saddened 
that she would never get to meet the man that she had grown to 
envision "Father Kent" to be.  But, even though she never got to 
meet Jonathan Kent, she felt that she had a good idea of the kind 
of man he was just by looking at his son.  

Lois began to mentally tick off the things she did know about 
Clark.  He was friendly and funny and one of the brightest people 
she knew.  He seemed to know a little bit about everything, but 
was never overbearing about it or gave the impression that he 
knew more than you did in a conversation.  He never ever under 
any circumstances cursed, at least none that she could recall, 
and his manners were like something out of Emily Post.  

He was helpful to everyone and she had seen him make a special 
effort to take the time and explain many of the ins and outs of 
journalism to Jimmy, even when he was in the middle of typing up 
a front page story with the deadline fast approaching.

He was an award-winning journalist with an innate talent for 
seeing the human side of a story.  His prose was instantly 
engaging and he could bring a reader into a story about waste 
distribution and make them care about its effect on the world 
around them.

Despite all of these positive qualities, however, he never seemed 
to be close to anyone.  He was undeniably handsome, but he seemed 
to make a special effort to fade into the background.  He just 
seemed so alone and didn't seem to have anyone in his life who 
was there for him. 

It was while pondering this thought that Lois saw the redhead 
approach Clark's desk.

**********

"Hey, blue eyes.  How are you doing?"

"Lana?" Clark gaped in surprise before quickly standing to hug 
his old friend.  "What are you doing here?"

"Standing here talking to you, silly," Lana replied teasingly 
with a wide grin.

"You know what I mean," said Clark, adopting a dramatic frown, 
which only served to turn Lana's grin into outright laughter.  
"What are you doing in Metropolis?"

"Job interview.  I flew in yesterday and would have called then, 
but it was late and I wanted to get a good night's sleep before 
the interview." 

"Interview?" Clark said retaking his seat and gesturing for her 
to sit down in a chair beside his desk.  "Who with?"

"Galaxy Communications.  They're looking for a fresh face to 
occupy one of the on-air correspondent's positions."



"That's great, Lana.  How did it go?"

"Good, I think.  Galaxy's expanding their scope and wants to 
start taking on LNN in the global news market so they're looking 
for a lot of new talent to pit against LNN's rank and file.  
There's been talk that they're looking into publishing ventures 
as well.  The Daily Planet has even been mentioned as a hot 
property that they might have their eye on."

"Great, Perry needs something else to worry about.  It's been at 
least two whole days since that last meltdown of his over the 
suits upstairs trying to influence what we write.  He gets some 
TV exec butting in next, he may actually pick up a murder 
charge."

"From what I've heard about Perry White, I'm sure he can hold his 
own.  Besides, if Galaxy takes over, they may decide that those 
baby blues could be put to better use in luring the female 
demographic to GBS rather than hiding behind a newspaper column."

"Ha, I'm pretty sure one look at these baby blues would convince 
any Galaxy exec that I'm right in insisting that no picture 
accompany my byline." 

"Sure, Clark.  You're lucky your mirror doesn't crack when you 
shave in the morning," Lana said with a wry grin.  



"Well, I have had to replace it a couple of times over the past 
year.  You don't think..."

"Ha, ha." Lana interrupted him sarcastically.  "Good thing you 
have this day job, Kent, at least I'm reasonably sure you won't 
starve.  Which actually brings me to the real reason I'm here."

"You didn't come just to visit an old friend?  I'm hurt."

"Yeah, yeah, you're killing me, Kent.  I wanted to know what 
you're doing for Christmas.  I'm going to spend it with my 
parents in Smallville and mom said I shouldn't bother to come 
unless I can convince you to join us."

Clark tried admirably to freeze the smile on his face, but a 
Superman is only so powerful so he was sure it faltered slightly.  
Pushing his solar powered synapses back into play, he responded 
before the silence could grow uncomfortable.

"Gee, Lana, I really appreciate the invitation, but I've already 
promised Perry that I'd be available here because of a story I'm 
working on.  I've already made some other arrangements anyway."

"Uh huh, let me guess, spending the holidays with family?"

"Every living relative I have."

"Cla-rk," Lana said with an exasperated sigh.

"La-na," Clark replied with a smile mimicking her exasperation.

Lana closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head.  

"You're a stubborn man, Clark Kent.  You're also absolutely the 
best man I know.  Kind and generous to the point that a lot of 
saints could stand to come to you for pointers.  But, as nice as 
you are to everyone else, I wish you'd treat yourself with the 
same compassion."

"Lana..."

"They wouldn't want you to be alone, Clark."

"I'm not alone, Lana."

"Really?" Lana said, glancing down at his desk and picking up the 
solitary picture-frame present.  "I don't see a lot of evidence 
of other people present in your life."

"I have friends, Lana."

"Friends or acquaintances?"

"Friends," Clark said, adopting a no nonsense tone.

"But no one special.  No one to make you feel a part of 
something," Lana replied, not put off in the least by his tone.

"Lana..." Clark started to say again, his tone softening.

"No, Clark," Lana interrupted.  "You don't need to say a