The Late Great Lois Lane  
CC Aiken <AikFree@aol.com>
Rated: PG-13
Submitted: November 2004


Thank you so much to good friends and BRs LynnM and StopQuitDont 
for tackling this epic and being so helpful in their remarks.  
And to the readers of the L&C Fanfic Mbs, whose comments were so 
smart and thought provoking, they made this a better story. 

I have made quite a few changes from what was originally posted, 
so I owe added thanks to Avia, Jen, Yvonne, Ray, Sherry, Ethnica, 
and TEEJ, whose feedback triggered altered and additional scenes. 
And to Liz for helping me wrestle with the ending. 

I owe the biggest debt of gratitude to LabRat, who, in addition 
to BRing this exhaustively, provided me with the single, most 
valuable suggestion I desperately needed, and the hook on which 
to hang the entire thing. It's not overstating to say I could not 
have written this without her. (More on this in the end note.)

I hope you enjoy. I'm open to criticisms. All feedback most 
welcome. 


The Late Great Lois Lane


"You're late," she stated tonelessly. "Again."

"I know."  He moved towards her, reaching for her hand.  "It was 
crazy out there today, honey.  I'm sorr--"

"Don't." She cut him off, pulling her hand from his and moving 
away.  "Don't bother, ok?"

"Have you eaten yet?" He tried a different tack.  

"No." 

"Let's have dinner," he said.  "We've barely had any time 
together lately. I could cook.   And I won't respond to any calls 
unless-"

The look on her face stopped him cold.  

"I could change," he offered quickly.  "I know the Suit bothers 
you, sweetheart."

Had it been his imagination, or had she actually flinched on the 
'sweetheart?'

"We have an opening to attend tonight," she told him.  The mask 
once more coming over her features, erasing the look he'd seen as 
if by magic.  "You've forgotten."   

"Which is this again?" he asked apologetically, moving to the 
closet to study his shirts and ties.  She was right.  He was 
losing track of things.  The things they did together. The real 
things. "Do I need the tux?"

"Not you, Clark," she replied.  "Superman."

God, why didn't she just cut him in half?  

"I am me," he told her not turning around, daring his voice to 
keep the emotion from it.  "I am Clark Kent," he repeated firmly.  
"I am not two people.  If they asked for Superman, they asked for 
me."  He began sorting through the clothes vigorously, not 
noticing he had torn more than a few buttons from his freshly 
laundered shirts.  "Now, do I need the tux?" he demanded softly.  

"It's the New Center for Women and Children.  It opens tonight, 
thanks to Superman's influence.  They just want to see...the 
Suit.  The cape, the emblem.  You know."

She had moved towards him and was stroking his back soothingly 
now.  An unspoken apology for her earlier comment.  Touching him 
through the spandex.  He couldn't remember the last time she had 
done that, if she ever had. "The kids will love it, Clark."

Nail in the coffin. Argument won. He bowed his head.

"You had to have known," she couldn't resist adding. He knew she 
couldn't.  The thousandth version of 'I told you so.'  "When you 
took this on, you had to have known no one would want...Clark 
Kent again."

"What about you?" he questioned slowly, and dangerously, he knew 
that, too.. His eyes stayed riveted on his collection of ties.  
"Do you still want Clark Kent?"

"I'm not doing this."  She glided away, snapping her purse 
closed, as resolutely as she had snapped the conversation closed.  
"Let's just go.  You're dressed and I'm ready."

He turned towards her then.

"You look beautiful," he offered.  An olive branch.  "Maybe when 
we get home...?"

"Not tonight. I'm already doing my duty as Superman's wife.  I 
don't want...anything else."

He looked over her shoulder, as had become his habit. Through the 
wall just behind her.  Outside. Into the sky.  Where he suddenly 
so desperately wished to be.

 "Lana," he said after a time.  "I know this whole thing takes 
some getting used to.  I know you're frustrated with all of this.  
You have every right to be.  But underneath it all," he gestured 
to the cape, the boots.  "I'm still me.  The boy you grew up 
with."

"The boy I grew up with," she returned, "was the orphaned son of 
farmers whose life's dream, or so I thought, was to escape the 
small town and write stories.  Not...this." She pointed to the 
spare capes hanging next to his work clothes, to the window 
through which he came and went more than the front door. She 
hated that especially, he knew. 

"Not some costumed character who sells magazines," she continued 
quietly.  "Superman.  You know, for a guy who I remember as 
mostly humble, that's quite a nickname you've given yourself.  
How desperate for acceptance do you have to be?  To wear 
...tights! To try to right all the wrongs on the planet!"  She 
was warmed up now, and he'd asked for it. "Do you know, do you 
really know what it's like for me?  The kinds of questions I get 
just trying to go to the grocery store?"

"This is old ground," he told her, suddenly too tired to argue. 
Suddenly very, very sorry he'd even broached the topic.  Hadn't 
just followed her cue and left it alone. "I know it isn't easy, 
Lana, for either of us.  For you. But Superman isn't about 
acceptance-"

"I wasn't enough for you." 

The words were spoken without bitterness, devoid of all anger. 
And they surprised him into speechlessness. Again, and for just 
an instant, her well-worn mask slipped. Underneath, for the first 
time in months, he saw the girl he'd known.  Heard her in Lana's 
voice. 

"I loved you enough to accepted you as you were.  Married you.  
But with the understanding that you'd be careful, so my life 
wouldn't be...a circus."

He felt a twist in his gut...past tense.

She was right.  So right.  Her life, their life, was no life at 
all, really.  Not any more. Not since Superman has been created, 
and then just as quickly exposed as Clark Kent. They had been 
married little more than a year before he'd changed everything...

And for the most part, when it got complicated, he flew away. 
Literally put himself above it. After six months, in the center 
of the world's eye as Superman, he still hadn't worked out all 
the implications for himself. But Lana didn't have the same 
luxury of flight. She had to live on the ground, live with being 
the wife of an alien, a superhero.  Which at its mildest made her 
a simple object of curiosity; at its worst it endangered her.  A 
squadron of federal bodyguards tailed her every step out of the 
house. For her own good. 

She was as famous as he was. More vulnerable than he was. And he 
had done that to her.

 She hadn't signed up for any of this when they'd said their 
vows. No where in "for better or for worse" was the concept 'if 
your husband becomes world famous as a strange visitor from 
another planet.'  He knew that.  She wouldn't have said yes to 
that. 

 Who would?

"Lana," he tried again, though he had absolutely no idea what he 
could possibly say. Just that he needed to keep trying, he 
reminded himself sternly, for both of their sakes.  "I'm sorry." 
These were words he had offered her hundreds of times, but he 
spoke them with a full heart.  "Really, so much.  For all of it.  
If there was any other way-"

"There was another way up until six months ago," she returned. 
"Where is she, Clark?  You have never answered that.  She came, 
turned everything upside down, thrust you into the spotlight, and 
now... where is she? Is she coming back?"

They were back here. To the root of it.  Lois Lane.  Another 
strange visitor from a different universe. The third party in 
this room. The third party in this marriage...

 And the kick he had needed.  The push he hadn't known he'd 
longed for, until Lois had come and given it to him.  The push to 
be who he really was, no more darting around, scared out of his 
mind that someone was going to put two and two together.  Or 
worse, that something horrible was going to happen right in front 
of him, and due to circumstances, due to the fear of being found 
out, he'd be forced to just watch.  

"You're getting that look again," Lana informed him levelly. And 
sadly, too.  He knew her well enough to hear that. He smoothed 
his features, not sure what she'd seen, not wanting to know, 
really.

 Lana knew him too well.  It was so unfair.  To them both.  But 
mostly to her.  He was acutely aware of that.  And he hated 
himself for it.  Lois Lane hadn't just been his motivator.  She 
had been...something else.  It was just as well she hadn't 
stayed.  Her leaving had been a relief.  If she was still 
here...?  

He didn't let his thoughts rest on that possibility for even a 
second.

  Lois hadn't intended for him to be exposed.  She had felt 
horrible about it.  But she had needed to get home, back to her 
own life and...other things.  And despite the fact that he had 
asked her to stay, been ready to, maybe, change things in his 
personal life if she had, the truth was he had really needed for 
her to go. 

So he could learn how to be Superman in his own way, not just as 
an imitation of someone else. And so he could be Lana's faithful 
husband.  Free from any sort of...temptation. Anything less than 
that was not acceptable.  He and Lana had a lifetime together.  
He and Lois had had a weekend.

It had been one hell of a weekend.

"She isn't coming back," he told her again, turning to avoid her 
eyes.  He moved briskly to the window and opened it.  "Can I fly 
you there?"

Suddenly the idea of being surrounded by perfect strangers, 
perfectly adoring strangers, seemed really good.

"My hair," Lana replied in shorthand. Same answer as always. 
"I'll take the car."

He should drive in with her.  It was the least he could do.  They 
could have a few sane moments before the insanity started.  

"I'll meet you," he whispered, ashamed of himself.  He launched 
himself up and out, grateful, so grateful for the welcoming night 
sky.


~ ~ ~

 The night's function had lasted until the early morning hours, 
and even Lana seemed to have enjoyed herself. This was the upside 
to his new life, his new career as Superman. All the money that 
was raised, all the good that was possible, simply because he 
would stand in a room with some people, have his picture taken 
with them, even sign some autographs. Something that was starting 
to feel less excruciatingly embarrassing and more normal.

Not that normal wasn't a purely relative term. But for the first 
morning in too many to count, he had started the day feeling 
hopeful. Hopeful that the newness of his celebrity was wearing 
off. That he would stop being an object of fascination and go 
back to being a person. That the good he was doing might win over 
the doubters, or those who were afraid. That Lana could go to 
more functions like that one, get a chance to see that it didn't 
have to be hell on earth, being Mrs. Superman. That the two of 
them might reach some sort of normal they could both be happy 
with.

He sat at his desk in his remote corner of the bullpen and told 
himself it was all possible. It would just take time. Progress 
was being made on all fronts. He was here at work. He had left 
Lana in a less than foul mood. Given enough time, it could all 
be...fine.

Then the elevator doors slid open and Lois Lane stepped out.

No.

 Lois Lane did not just step off the elevator. That was 
ridiculous. That was just...stupid.

<And not wishful thinking right, Kent?> he growled inwardly.

 Not every woman with dark hair and dark eyes has to be Lois...

<She's left him. The other Clark. Maybe it didn't work out. Maybe 
she's come back to...>

He closed his eyes. Opened them again.

She was still there. But she wasn't Lois.  Whoever she was, she 
just...moved with the same sort of...

He stood up slowly.

 The dark eyes, the dark hair, the take no prisoners 
stride...that face...

She hit the ramp and entered the bullpen.

Lois. 

He put one foot in front of the other carefully, as if he might 
fall, as if the drastic shift, away from that normal he'd just 
been wishing for, might literally throw him off his feet, cause 
the ground to quake beneath him.

He watched for just a half a second more before he swept down on 
her. One thought forming above all the others currently buzzing 
to connect in his brain: he had needed more time. More time to 
gather up the threads of his life. To sew them into something 
good and whole. Something to wrap around him, to protect him 
from...the very sight of her. So he wouldn't be tempted, again, 
to cast it all aside, to beg her to...

 Anyway, more time. More time would have been nice.

"Hey." He placed his hand on her elbow and turned her gently 
towards him. "Are you looking for me? What's happened?" It 
couldn't be good. He knew just enough to know that. If she was 
standing here and not in her own dimension, then something 
somewhere had gone horribly wrong.

She frowned at him. "I...no...." she finally said. "Perry White?"

"Perry's here, meeting with James. Are you sure you don't need 
me?"

"Just...what?" She turned towards him fully now, and he 
immediately released her elbow, acutely aware that touching her 
sometimes led to other things. Or rather, thoughts of other....

Her face was completely blank. Amnesia? Time-travel mental 
something? A trauma of some kind, surely...

"Lois," he spoke to her gently. "It's me. Your friend, Clark."

She raised an eyebrow at this. "No kidding," she said finally, 
but her tone said something else all together. She was humoring 
him.

"Tempus?" he whispered. "Wells? Ring a bell?"

"This is code, isn't it?" she whispered back, not hiding her 
amusement, but looking intrigued. She studied his face, making no 
move to step away from him. "You've got me mixed up with someone 
else."

The words hit him like an anvil from the sky. He had her mixed up 
with someone else. Mixed up...with someone else.

He did. This was not Lois. This was...

"Lois?" he croaked. "Lois Lane of..." Of what? Of this dimension? 
Of this cosmic address? "Of...some time ago?" he finally settled 
on.

Her face lit up in a smile that was...well, it was all right. 
"Yes!" She patted him on the arm, and he resisted the urge to 
leap away, to run for the safety of his desk, for the isolation 
of his Fortress of Solitude, which was still just a blueprint in 
his mind, but one day he'd really build it. Today might be good, 
actually.

"And Perry's in here?" She gestured over her shoulder. "I haven't 
seen him in ages. Haven't seen this building, this city, this 
many people..." She was a fount of happy words. They sprang out, 
bubbled over everywhere.

 Of course the eyes of the work force were on them. It was a 
Monday morning; people needed something to look at. Generally, it 
was him. He was an interesting subject, even when he wasn't doing 
anything more than using the copier. But this woman- her energy- 
was captivating, completely different, and not just to him.

"Let me take you," he offered. "Perry will be surprised-" He 
paused on her laugh. Joyous and excited. "And I don't want him 
to-"

"Keel over? Go to be with Elvis? Turn toes up in Graceland?" she 
filled in, the merry sparkle in her eyes all but sucking the 
breath from him. Maybe when he knew her better, he could ask her 
not to do that. Or to do that all the time, he'd need to give it 
some thought.

She beat him to the door, though it was a close, polite race. She 
threw it open, threw herself into the Mayor's arms, nearly 
knocking the paper's owner, and now self-assigned rookie editor, 
from his feet.

"Sorry." She smiled at James, who, after blinking rapidly a few 
times, smiled back readily.

 "Absolutely no problem," he assured her. "A beautiful woman 
wants to fly in here, I won't complain. However," he teased, "you 
grabbed the wrong guy. He's married."

"So, Alice hasn't come to her senses, yet?" She pulled Perry's 
face down for a fast kiss. "And you look great, just the same. So 
much else has changed, but I knew this wouldn't."

Perry hadn't spoken. He was looking to Clark with a million 
questions on his face. The same ones that had been on his, no 
doubt. Perry knew the whole story. The complete, unbelievable 
epic of how Clark Kent went from truly mild-mannered reporter to 
Superman in a weekend. And how one woman, who they had initially 
mistaken for the woman currently around his neck, had made all 
the difference.

"I thought I knew her," he said to Perry carefully. "Turns out, I 
had her mixed up with someone else."

"I have one of those faces," she proposed. And she certainly did. 
That was some face.

The change in Perry was immediate. His arms, which had been 
hovering uncertainly, closed around her tightly. "Oh, great 
shades," he stammered. "Oh, honey."  

"That's more like it." Lois beamed.

"My turn?" asked James. "For an introduction, I mean."

James didn't remember. 

The night Clark had confessed all to Perry, he had wondered aloud 
what he needed to say to James Olsen to explain away Lois Lane's 
absence. She'd come, been hired, and disappeared in just a couple 
of days. There needed to be a reason, a feasible explanation, and 
he'd rather not open the can with all the time-travel worms in 
it, if it could be avoided. 

"James won't remember," Perry had assured him gruffly. "If you 
asked him, he'd remember she was pretty. He might even remember 
what color her suit was. But I'll lay you odds that if we don't 
mention her, he won't either."

Clark hadn't believed him. And had decided on his own that the 
story was Lois had gone home to attend a wedding, and once there 
had made the decision to stay. It was true, even, which was 
helpful. He'd kept that excuse ready and waiting on the tip of 
tongue. But in the wake of Perry's election, the whole Flying Man 
From Outer Space thing, and James turning his attention to 
running the paper, one woman's short stay in their universe had 
been almost completely forgotten. Almost.

If it weren't for Lana, and her constant reminders, he might well 
have thought he'd imagined her, too. Imagined their amazing time 
together.  Dreamed her. Because he hadn't exactly been happy in 
the box that was the life he had shut himself inside. And Lois 
Lane had pried the lid open and demanded he come out. 

And he had, readily. Maybe too readily. Six months later he was 
still trying to figure out how he could have been so impulsive. 
How he could have changed his life so dramatically, with very 
little thought for what it would mean- to his life, to his 
marriage. For the first time in his very careful thirty years, he 
hadn't really thought at all. He'd just acted.  

The chance to be Superman, to help. That's all he had wanted. It 
had all seemed so simple. Lois had made it seem so simple. And 
now, here she was again, only not...

"Where have you been?" Perry's choked voice broke into his 
thoughts. "We thought you were dead!"

"Dead?" echoed James, and Clark thought he detected a note of 
recognition, of de ja vu.  He watched him closely, waiting for 
the memory to surface, and wondering what the hell they should do 
when it did.

Lois laughed again, another thing he was either going to have to 
ask her to stop all together, or just keep doing from now on. 
Releasing Perry she moved to the sofa and sank into it. "Taking a 
sabbatical from writing for the world's greatest newspaper isn't 
the same as dead, Chief," she replied with a grin. "Though I can 
see how you'd get the two confused."

"Where...have you been, Lois?" Clark spoke for the first time. 

"You knew my name out there." She eyed him speculatively.

"You were a big deal around here," he returned. Again, perfectly 
true. "New hires would know you, or they should."

He could tell that was just the right thing.

"And you are?"

Perry found his voice again, moving to take James's chair, he 
boomed out, "Lois Lane, meet Clark Kent."

"Hello," she said simply.

"Hi," he answered.

"James Olsen," volunteered their forgotten boss. "You worked 
here, I take it?"

"Up until a few years ago. I went to the Congo, chasing  a 
story..." The room shrank a little, or they all moved closer. 
Clark couldn't tell which. "And I...met someone."

"What?" That had come out of his mouth and he immediately 
regretted how it sounded. A bit...judgmental.

Her chin came up, her eyes flashed briefly, before a self-
deprecating smile settled over her lips. "I know," she said 
wryly. "I'll need to get used to that. It's a bit out of 
character, and I'm going to have to get good at explaining."

"Practice on us," James offered smoothly with a wink. Why hadn't 
Clark noticed before how badly his well-oiled young boss grated 
on his nerves? Funny, he would have sworn before today that he 
genuinely liked him.

"His name was Marvin," she began with a dreamy, far away look.  
"He was studying the local flora.  Really amazing stuff, you have 
no idea.  I'll never look at a florist shop the same way again. 
Prison." She shuddered. "Death row for stores of life...Anyway, 
he'd set up a very impressive base camp deep in the jungle.  
Right out of Tarzan...hey...I guess I was Jane!" she finished 
gleefully, not seeming to notice her thunderstruck audience.

"Lois, my ears have turned funny or something," Perry finally 
spoke for the group.  "Are you telling me that all this 
time...you've been living in the...jungle...with a botanist?"

"In a tree house," she confirmed.  "I know it sounds a little 
strange.  Born and raised in the city, never far from the 
concrete or skyscrapers.  And those first few months, well, I 
thought the bugs alone would kill me.  But his passion, his 
dedication..."  The dreamy look was definitely back, Clark noted. 
And this was definitely not the Lois Lane he'd known.

Not the Lois Lane he had known. He felt himself relax a little. 
So, this didn't have to be a problem. This could be...fine.

"We thought you were dead, honey," Perry persisted.  "There's a 
graveyard in this city with your name carved in stone.  I sent 
team after team searching for you.  Wanted to go myself, but the 
danger--"

"It was dangerous," Lois avowed.  "I'm glad you didn't come.  I 
figured it out fairly quickly.  And that our tip was nothing but 
a dodge."

"What..." Clark finally ventured, "did you do all that time...in 
the tree house with...Marvin?"  He regretted his question the 
instant he voiced it, the eyebrow she quirked up at him, the 
glint in her eye.

"I wrote," she answered him in a teasing tone.  "What'd you 
think?  Two novels.  Once the first one was done, the second 
practically fell out. Unpublished, of course, but I'll get to 
that. The quiet, the solitude...it was perfect."

"Now hold on just a gosh darn second, Lois," Perry thundered.  
"Are you telling me that you had time to write two novels, but 
you couldn't even send me an email letting me know you were ok?"

"I didn't have a computer," she answered in surprise.  "I wrote 
longhand.  I told you that, Perry, in my letter, that there would 
probably be no way to contact me, but that I would keep in 
touch...wait...what do you mean there's a graveyard with...what!"

"You were thought dead, Lois," Clark inserted gently. "And not in 
the metaphorical sense, but literally...dead."

The change in her was immediate.  "Oh, good Lord...." Her voice 
trailed away.  "My letters?" She turned pleading eyes to Perry.

"Never made it, hon," he answered her sorrowfully.

"My...parents?" she began again, timidly.

Clark moved towards her unconsciously.  If he'd thought about it 
he never would have done it.  It seemed completely right to sit 
next to her, to hold her hand.  

The force with which she squeezed it seemed to indicate she 
didn't think his actions over the line.  "What have I done?" she 
finally said in voice stripped of all the happiness and spark she 
had brought with her into the room. "How selfish can one person 
be?"  

She seemed to be asking that of him. She had opened her eyes, and 
was studying him closely.  As if he was the one in a position to 
weigh her actions.

"You didn't know," Clark answered firmly.  "You wrote; that's all 
you could do."

"I knew that Lester Lyle the letter carrier was always just a bit 
too cheerful for his own good!" she exclaimed. 

 "Never trust a guy with that much alliteration in his name," 
offered James. "Sorry," he added quickly at the looks that came 
his way.

 "He had a chartered plane. Ran wealthy tourists in and out."

"Some set up for a letter carrier," interrupted Perry.

"He wasn't a real letter carrier," Lois clarified. "He just 
volunteered to take mine for me. He would turn up with a plane 
full of people, to show them how charming and civilized our set –
up was. We didn't mind. I got some news of the rest of world. 
Marvin got some influential backers for his research. I gave 
Lester my letters."

"Which he threw into the sea." Again, James looked contrite. 
"Sorry. I'll just...be quiet now."

"Always telling me the rates had been raised. That postage was 
getting more expensive...Dammit, I was so stupid. If I ever see 
that little weasel again, I'm going to pull every gold tooth out 
of his head, have it melted down, made into a charm...of 
a...weasel!"

She leapt to her feet.  "I have to go, Perry.  I have to...call 
my parents, and I don't know what else...but I have to go."

"Can I come with you?" Clark rose with her.  "I can help, 
maybe...or wait-" He sat just as quickly as he'd stood. "-you'll 
want to have...Marvin with you.  Introduce him."  He stopped 
there, feeling ridiculously, monstrously foolish.

"Thank you, though, Clark," she answered warmly before turning 
towards the door.  "I'll be back, Perry, I'll be in touch...about 
a job."

"Lois, you should know-" Perry began painfully, "-I'm not running 
the show anymore.  It wouldn't be my say."

"It's mine and you're hired, Ms Lane," James filled in smoothly.  
"I want a series of Sunday features on your story. Your years in 
a lush paradise, the escape from the big city.  Leaving it all 
behind for the man of your dreams.  It'll kill," he exclaimed, 
sounding closer to his real age all at once.  "The adventure 
travelers, the romantics, the...botanists.  They'll eat it up."

She flashed a dazzling smile.  "You're on.  I'll be back on...?"

"Monday, week."  James nodded. "And we'll get to work on the 
legal entanglements. Bring you back from the dead."

"Monday," Lois repeated a tad tremulously.  "Thank you.  I'll see 
you all...then." She included Clark in her gaze, patting him 
absently on the shoulder as she went.  

Lois Lane back from the dead.  Back in Metropolis.  Back at the 
Daily Planet.  With Marvin. 

 And that attempt at a fragile normal? All shot to hell.

"Did she seem really familiar to you?" James interrupted his 
thoughts.

"Kind of," he hedged.

"Lois Lane is one of a kind," Perry voiced, his eyes meeting 
Clark's, telling him to keep quiet. "Unmistakable."

"Yeah, but the Congo? Missing all this time...?" James voiced, 
almost to himself.

"She's beautiful, too," Perry offered.

"Oh, yeah...." James smiled, his features smoothed as his 
thoughts obviously slid in a different direction.

"And involved," Clark snapped, maybe a bit too quickly.

"Right. Well. Anything else?" James asked. "What do you have 
going on for today, big guy?"

"If you don't mind," Clark answered heavily. "I might just go 
home. I need to...see my wife."

"Sure," Jimmy dismissed him, moving back towards his desk. 

Perry's eyes followed him out the door. "Tell Lana hello for me," 
he said grimly.

He nodded. He would tell her. He'd just put that on the list of 
things he needed to tell her

~ ~ ~

He flew home slowly.

This didn't have to be bad. It didn't. 

He would just tell Lana, just say, "Lois Lane came to work 
today." And then carefully explain that while there were certain 
physical similarities, she was not the woman Lana had 
been...speaking of...ever since the last Lois. So, there was 
really no problem.

He landed in their back garden. The usual assortments of 
reporters were there. "Nothing happening today," he offered as he 
strolled across the lawn. "How's everyone?" 

They barely looked up from their reading, or card playing, or 
phone conversations. "Good," one of them replied absently. 

He slipped in the backdoor and stood still for a minute. "Lois 
Lane came to work today," he rehearsed under his breath. "Only it 
isn't the same Lois, so..."

"You're home," Lana greeted him, catching him off guard. That 
shouldn't happen. It wasn't as if he couldn't hear her coming.

She looked happier. Relaxed. He'd been right about last night, 
about things settling down and reaching a place that was 
comfortable for both of them. So, that was good. No real reason 
that had to change...

He walked over to her, taking the coffee mug from her hands and 
linking his fingers through hers. "Let's...sit," he started, 
steering her towards the couch, looking to be sure that the 
shades were drawn. They were. They always were. Though he felt he 
and those camped out in the back had reached an understanding 
about not photographing into the house, still it paid to be 
careful. He knew not to give them too much of the benefit of the 
doubt. And for that matter, not to tempt them overly much.

He extended his hearing, just to be sure. Still no bugs. It 
hadn't been beneath the tabloids to try, and try repeatedly, but 
they seemed to be getting the message: that there wasn't any such 
thing as a silent transmitter to him.

Lana was tense beside him. He ran his arm along the back of her 
shoulders, lightly massaging her neck through the flannel of her 
robe.

"Lois Lane-" he said.

"What does she want now?" She shot to her feet immediately, 
throwing his hand off her. "She's back, isn't she?"

"Come here," he said softly. "I want you to listen to this."

"She didn't change things enough last time, did she?" Lana 
continued, forgetting to keep her voice down, forgetting the 
eager audience of listeners just outside the door.

"Let's go upstairs," he offered. He hadn't soundproofed the 
downstairs, not yet. He'd get to that soon. He'd been letting it 
go. They spent so little time together in the den and the 
kitchen; it just hadn't been a priority.

No, in his first week as the newly created, subsequently outed 
Superman, he had sound proofed their entire upstairs, starting 
with their bedroom. A desperate attempt to keep some sort of 
privacy for them. To exert some control over an uncontrollable 
situation. To create a safe place for him and Lana. Away from the 
media storm and curious on-lookers, unethical reporters and 
plotting criminals.

 Their bedroom was as secure as he could make it. And still, they 
didn't really...use it.

 "She's back for what?" Lana persisted, as he led her up the 
stairs. "For you?" She stopped cold on the landing. Her eyes 
meeting his for the first time since her greeting.

"No. No. It isn't like that. She...isn't the Lois Lane we met. 
She doesn't know me, or Superman, or you."

"Once upon a time," she said after a minute, "I understood the 
words that came out of your mouth. I miss those days. Deeply."

"I can't fault you for that. I'm a little nostalgic for them, 
too." He pulled her towards the bedroom, pushed her gently to sit 
on the bed. "Tell me...when you're ready to hear the rest."

"How long do you plan on living?"

"Lana. I want you to hear this- and from me. And to know, this 
doesn't change...anything."

"You mean it doesn't get any weirder? You don't transform 
yourself yet again? Take on another name, a personality. Captain 
Glorious, maybe?"

"I'm still me."

"I've known you for years, and you're not."

"Do you want to hear about Lois, or cover this ground again?"

"Tell me." She looked nervous. Scared. She rarely showed that to 
him. Rarely showed him anything any more. 

Even as kids, Lana had kept her emotions close. One afternoon 
early in their high school years, out of nowhere, she had blurted 
that she was going to marry him someday. She had clearly been as 
shocked as he had by her statement, and had turned and run inside 
her house, slamming the door on any reply he might haven given. 
Leaving him alone, mouth agape, on her front porch.

 It had been a month before she spoke to him again. A month more 
before he worked up the nerve to kiss her- to tell her that he 
liked what she had planned for them.

And he had. Orphaned, strange, alone. In Lana's sudden 
declaration of intent, he had seen a direction for his life. A 
meaning. Lana Lang had anchored him- nothing and no one would 
ever change that fact. Or his gratitude for it.

"She was living in the Congo with...her fiancé, I guess." He 
moved to her, stilling her nervous hands with his steady ones. 
"She met someone and didn't want to come home." He tried to pour 
every bit of reassurance into those words as possible. So she 
would understand - this was different. Entirely different.

"So she's involved, this Lois." The flatness had gone out of her 
tone.

"Very much so. Like I am," he hastened to add, daring to pull her 
close. She didn't resist. Didn't stiffen, or worse, hold still 
for an almost audible count of ten before moving away. "And 
she'll be back at the Planet. James hired her. She is not the 
Lois we have known. She is completely different."

That was true. Lois wasn't anyone he knew. She was in love. She 
was back in town. So, they would cross paths at work, and that 
was it. One Lois Lane for one Clark Kent wasn't the universal 
rule. Clearly it wasn't. If it was, she would have been in 
Metropolis when he moved here, like the other Lois had been for 
the other Clark.  And he wouldn't have gone home to Smallville 
after he'd arrived to get Lana, for company, for comfort. 

He wouldn't be married. And Marvin would be an unknown, unsung 
botanist forever in the Congo. 

The Lois he had known had been sure of her feelings for the Clark 
Kent of her time and place. But this was not that time and place. 
And he was sure of that. Just as he was sure  the right woman of 
his time and his place was the one he was holding.

Lana, as if listening to his thoughts, tilted her face towards 
his. He saw the invitation and didn't hesitate. He didn't think 
of Lois, either. Not the first one and not the current one. He 
undressed his wife with great care, and remembered how alone he 
would be without her. He poured his reassurance and his gratitude 
into her. For them. For their years together. For that long ago 
afternoon in Smallville, when she had claimed him- and in so 
doing, given him a home. The only home he'd known since his 
parents had died.

 That was love
 
~ ~ ~

Work at the Planet was uneventful. He had told Lana it would be. 
And he had been right.

Lois was there, but they rarely crossed paths. She had 
commandeered a desk right in the middle of the bullpen and made 
herself at home. Their methods were pretty opposite. He had 
noticed that right away. She made great use of those sitting 
around her- whether they especially liked it or not. All day her 
voice, the loudest in the room, called for fact checks, for 
another look at those pictures, for a ham and pastrami on rye...

He worked quietly. As close to invisible as possible for him. He 
did all of his own research, not that the subjects were 
difficult. But he didn't impose on anyone. And since James was 
still learning, by mutual agreement, he did most of his own 
editing...

Lois seemed so fully in her element, so completely at home and in 
charge, it was hard to imagine her anywhere else. In the Congo. 
In the jungle. Writing novels.With Marvin.

Clark shook his head to clear it, and drew his eyes off her. It 
was hard not to look- but only because she was so animated, all 
of that barely contained energy on simmer, ready to spill out, 
boil over at any minute. She changed the atmosphere, charged 
it...

James adored her for it, and why shouldn't he? In just a few 
weeks she had managed some interesting headlines, and had brought 
circulation up more than any other reporter. He didn't include 
himself in those numbers. It wasn't fair, and not anything that 
he could help, that some people subscribed to the paper just 
because Superman wrote for it. That would wear off eventually. 
For now, at least, those who were reading for the celebrity 
factor were getting their money's worth with what Lois brought 
in.

James called her into his office often. Through the open blinds 
it was clear that Lois was becoming more than an employee to him. 
Her easy laughter, mingled with his, was audible without 
superhearing. James clearly liked her, and if it hadn't been for 
Marvin, Clark imagined...well, it wasn't for him to imagine. Or 
to pry. Though he had a little.

Initially, he had eavesdropped on their conversations. Finding it 
hard to trust Perry's hypothesis that James wasn't going to 
remember the other Lois Lane. If James did, and if he said, "So, 
where've you been since the last time you returned from the 
dead...?" then things were going to get...complicated.

As things stood now, they weren't complicated; they weren't even 
all that interesting. Lana had stopped asking about work, the 
monotony of his answers apparently giving her the assurance she 
needed that nothing had really changed. She was once again 
lapsing into quiet when he returned home. 

 Some days he didn't do much at all at the paper. Sat at his 
desk, organized his files, wrote up occasional Superman rescues 
and mundane bits and pieces. He still wanted to contribute, but 
not in the capacity of celebrity columnist, as James had first 
suggested. He just wanted...something normal.  Something for 
Clark Kent. A place to go when he wasn't saving someone and when 
he wasn't at home...trying to save what was between him and Lana.

Not that it needed saving, exactly. Just that it 
needed...something. Something he currently had no idea how to go 
about getting...

Listening in on those early meeting had proven there was no 
danger in James remembering. And also, had tipped him off to 
Lois's plan to investigate some mysterious middle of the night 
deliveries at the docks. He had worried a little at that idea. 

He knew those docks well. He made a point of flying over often, 
of being seen, making his presence known. The well-established 
fact that he could x-ray anything seemed to have slowed traffic 
down in some areas of the dock. The police were really 
appreciative. And without violating anyone's rights, even the 
criminals's, that was about all he could do. Sometimes he landed, 
walked around. He was learning the names of those who were paid 
so well to be up at all hours when certain shipments came in.

For the most part, they were good people. Hard working. Just 
trying to get by. But there was someone with money, a lot of 
money, behind the scenes. And not everything was on the up and 
up, that was clear.

Still, Lois's interest in those docks, those deliveries, couldn't 
be good. She was just one person, after all. And she'd been in 
the Congo so long she wouldn't know, but it was an extremely 
dangerous part of town. He was glad to be bulletproof when he was 
visiting, and in fact, one or two times – before he had gotten 
the hang of being the unflappable superhero- he had nearly ducked 
when the shots had started flying, fast and furious. Nearly. He 
hadn't. Thank God. But the very human impulse had been there.

It wasn't any more. That impulse. After six months in the cape, 
it was very clear to him that he was in no way human. He told 
himself that was as it should be. To be an effective Superman, he 
needed to remember that. He was different. Free of the trappings 
of human vulnerability. 

And that was fine, really.

"I need a word with you, Kent." Lois had exited the editor's 
office, and was moving towards him with a glimmer of...something 
not good in her eyes. He stilled and waited. She hadn't singled 
him out before.  They hadn't exchanged so much as 'hello' and 
'nice day' since the morning she had come back to town. 

He had heard just enough office gossip to know that her reentry 
into her life in Metropolis hadn't been without its bumps. She'd 
complained to all listeners over the increased price of rent, the 
difficulty in getting her things out of storage, having herself 
legally recognized as being among the living.

She had been less forthcoming about her family's cool welcome of 
her. Perry had told him that. They hadn't exactly greeted her 
with open arms once they realized she had stayed away for a man. 
Her protests about lost letters were met with heavy skepticism as 
well. Evidently, the Lanes weren't a close group. From what he 
gathered, though, they were a vocal group, if you went by Lois as 
an example.

She arrived at his desk, hands on her hips, face set in a barely 
controlled snarl. "Why are you butting into my business?"

For a minute he just stared at her, completely at a loss. He'd 
been so discreet, listening in only once in a while, talking to 
Perry only when he happened to run into him...How could she 
know...?

"James just warned me off the dock story," she spat.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Not that he'd been doing anything 
wrong- listening and watching. He just had his own interests to 
protect.

"Oh, that. I was only giving James my perspective." He defended 
himself gently.  "You're new here, Lois.  Or, well, new again, so 
you don't know.  But those guys you were talking about?  The 
docks?" He waited until she nodded, since she was drumming her 
fingers over his desk now, pretending she wasn't reading his 
papers upside down.  "It's really dangerous there. Even during 
the day light hours. But especially after dark. Especially if 
something's up. I've been there more than a few times, so I 
know."  

 He had explained himself reasonably, and he felt certain she 
would see his point.  Though she seemed a bit...quiet. 

 But that was good; she must be considering his words.

"I get it. You're...some kind of...big deal. I looked you up. I 
imagine you're used to getting your way..."

"Getting my way?" he echoed, raising his eyebrows, suddenly 
wishing desperately she would lower her voice. He hadn't noticed 
at what point it had gotten loud. "I hardly think commenting to 
James about the risks-"

 "And being a big deal, you're used to being 
treated...differently," she overrode him in a voice just short of 
a shout, waving her hand over him dismissively. The gesture was 
kind of interesting, because he'd seen her do that same thing 
when she'd found the curdled creamer on her coffee break. 

 "Now, I don't know you that well, but..." She leaned in, eyes 
narrowed, palms flat on his desk. That human impulse. The bit 
about ducking when the bullets flew. It came right back to him.

 This was strange, the other Lois, she had been so...sweet.

But this Lois' voice had trailed away, just a bit uncertainly.  
She had noticed their audience, he saw, and he guessed she might 
be reconsidering the direct approach. So he leaned in to meet 
her.

"You don't know me that well, but...?" he prompted, perversely 
enjoying her quick look of temper. She had almost had it under 
control, but that was all it had taken. Interesting.  

The distain was back on her face, and it said so clearly that she 
thought very little of him.  Well, he'd known that Lois Lane for 
Clark Kent rule was different here, but who would have thought it 
was this different?

She didn't like him.

 For some reason that relaxed him immeasurably. She just didn't 
like him. To think he had worried there might be...something 
between them that was...Anyway, she didn't like him. And he 
didn't think it was in that conspiracy theorist "he's come to 
take over the world" way of disliking him, either.

"You haven't known me that long, so...?"  he repeated, hoping she 
wouldn't just lose interest and walk away. 

 Clark Kent's desk was an island, or it might as well have been.  
That's how often he was approached.  Surrounded by a moat, 
snapping crocodiles, respectful silence.  It was all the same.  
The very people who fawned over Superman in public seemed 
horribly uncomfortable with him in a coat and tie.  He didn't 
bother with the glasses anymore.  They were beyond pointless.  
But Lois Lane had traipsed across the divide effortlessly.  
Seeming not to even notice it, or the cold space that was his, so 
close and yet so far from the heart of the bullpen, where the 
non-superheroes lived.

"I don't need you interfering." Her lowered voice indicated she 
had noted the interested stares. "Am I violating some sort of 
protocol here?" she asked quickly.

"Yes," he confirmed.  "Please, keep going."

She seemed a bit flustered, but didn't stay that way for long.  
"This is a job for a reporter, not a...a...."

Again he waited, glad she was still talking, intrigued by what 
she might say next.  After a time, when he saw that her attention 
had landed once again on their audience, he dared prompt again.  
"An alien?" he whispered conspiratorially to her.  He had to 
know. If her distaste was centered on who he was, fundamentally, 
he needed to know straight out.  No layering of euphemisms, no 
slow uncovering of the truth in asides.  He respected her.  And 
he needed to know.

"Don't be stupid," she snapped at him, then seemed to really 
register his words.  "Do people...wait...has anyone...?" She 
floundered, and for a moment he thought he caught something close 
to sympathy in her voice, but he didn't want that there.  He 
liked her rudeness so much better.  

"You don't read the tabloids?" he responded with a note of 
sarcasm.

It worked.

 She shifted gears abruptly.  "What I'm saying is, I don't need 
a...hero.  Some guy with a lot of muscle.  Just...stay out of it, 
are we clear?"

"Very much so," he answered with a smile she couldn't understand. 
Because she couldn't know how utterly refreshing she was.  "So is 
that what I am? Muscle?" He leaned back in his chair feeling a 
ridiculous temptation to flex.

"From the stories I've heard, that's what I gather. You're 
strong," she managed to make the word sound vaguely insulting.  
"And good for you," she amended, obviously having heard it 
herself.  "But this story needs intelligence. Not someone who has 
dolls made in their likeness-"

"Action figures!" he corrected her with false outrage. "Not 
dolls. And I'm too dumb to offer my point of view?" He fought to 
keep the delighted grin from his face.  

"Yes," she said, looking him briefly in the eyes.  "Stop that," 
she admonished with a half-smile.

"Stop what?" he asked in all innocence.  

"You're laughing," she accused, her own smile growing despite her 
obvious effort to control it.

"I never laugh," he managed. "That would mean I get the joke, and 
I'm too dense for that."

"Just...stay out of my way, Clark Kent," she threatened again, 
trying to add the same tone of menace as before, but failing 
miserably. "I know what I'm doing."

"Big dumb ox out of your way," he affirmed.

"Good." She tossed him a satisfied smile and returned to her desk 
in the hub, the middle of everything, where the normal people 
worked and lived.

It was a foreshadowing.  He hadn't realized it then.  But after 
that conversation she could only get into trouble sooner rather 
than later.  Sooner came in the dark hours of the morning.  Of 
all the cries in the city night, hers was the one he heard above 
all others.

~ ~ ~

It was the quality of the scream that grabbed him first.  It 
wasn't pain, it wasn't exactly fear, it wasn't anger.  It was 
surprise and then...something else.  He wasn't sure what, but on 
hearing it, the note in it, he was out of the bed and through the 
window in under a second.  He went straight up and hovered. 
Waiting, hoping to hear it again.  It had been cut-off and that 
was a worry.  It killed him sometimes. Those kinds of screams.  
The next day he might read of some tragedy in the paper, and he'd 
wonder, had that been what he'd heard, the last fragment of some 
poor soul's misery?  

What if he'd been able to pin it down, zero in? 

  Clark forced himself to hold still.  The city, for the more 
part was quiet, making concentrating easier.  He had heard it in 
his sleep- not a restful sleep, but nevertheless he had been 
dozing.  So, the scream's owner couldn't be too far away.  He 
started to circle, small and tight, then longer and loopier.  He 
kept his eyes trained, filtering out normal sights, looking for 
frantic movement or complete stillness, both fairly easy to see 
from his vantage point.

The scream didn't repeat.  Maybe he'd imagined the alarm in it, 
the danger.  Maybe it had just been an argument, or a drunk.  He 
thought about returning to bed.  Lana complained about his 
numerous absences.  Said she was tired of sleeping without him.  
Ironic, when you considered she could hardly stand for him to 
touch her.  He just had to be there, that was part of the deal, 
part of what he owed her.  Yet another way he was failing her...

He didn't go home.  He went lower.  Call it a hunch or an 
instinct, but he knew he was needed, desperately needed, and he 
didn't want to turn on the news or pick up the paper in the 
morning and see the name and face that had called- and not lived 
to call again.

The second cry came at last.  Unmistakably the same voice, only 
this time it was definitely angry and scared.  He could hear 
that, too.  

He dove.  

In a blink he was floating alongside a boat anchored in the 
middle of the harbor.  For just an instant he felt pure 
confusion. This couldn't be right.  How on earth could he have 
heard a call from here?  This far away from his bed?  Maybe if 
he'd been out on patrol...

It was Lois. 

 Recognizing her drained the questions from his mind in a 
heartbeat.  He didn't think any more, didn't think at all.  He 
simply burst through the ceiling and grabbed her, tugging her and 
the chair she was tied to up, up, up. Just ahead of the 
explosion.

  He felt the heat of it on his back and thighs.  His cape went 
up in smoke. The dazzling orange glow made him see spots in the 
night sky.  He wrapped himself around her, forcing her head down 
under his chin not as gently as he could have, but she seemed to 
be trying to get a glimpse of the wreckage, and there was no 
telling what debris might be flying.  Nothing that would put a 
mark on him- but on her...

He brought her to the closest building and landed them on top.  
It took him an extra minute to remember to set her down, to untie 
her.  It took him another moment to realize that he was, 
uncharacteristically, breathing rather heavily.  And in fact, his 
labored breaths were the only sound between them.  For her part, 
Lois was very, very quiet.

"Are you hurt?" he asked her, after he had found his voice. 

"No," she answered shakily, standing from the chair, but keeping 
her grip on his chest, on the red S.  "Give me a minute?"

He stood perfectly still, fighting against a crazy, unwelcome 
urge to hold her close,  to stroke her back and hair and tell her 
it was ok, he'd come in time, thank God.  

"Was there anyone else on the boat?" he whispered, not wanting to 
interrupt her, but suddenly struck with the horrifying thought 
that he hadn't checked.  He hadn't seen anything, really.  Just 
Lois, and at the very last second, the bomb.

She only shook her head no, still holding on to him, eyes firmly 
screwed shut.

He watched in wonder as she pulled herself together.  Eyes closed 
and knuckles white, Lois breathed slow, deliberate breaths in and 
out.  Her trembling stopped.  Her grip loosened. She opened her 
eyes and looked at him, once more the Planet's most intrepid 
reporter.

"Thank you," she stated gravely.  "Thank you so much."

He felt weak in the knees, suddenly.  It had been such a close 
call.  She, by all rights, should be a weeping, screaming wreck.  
But here she was, just moments from absolute disaster, cool and 
composed.  It scared him.  Scared the hell out of him.

"Lois," he began with more passion that he intended.   "You 
almost *died*."

"I know."  She surprised him with her easy agreement.  Her hands 
left his chest and she moved away, closer to the edge of the 
roof, examining the lights of the city.  

He fought a horrible, blistering urge to haul her back to him. To 
take to the skies and show her how the city lights really looked 
from up high. To keep her close...protected. 

He moved away instead, trying to make it look casual, shaken to 
the core. He didn't know her. She was an acquaintance, nothing 
more.

"I'm trying to prove myself," she volunteered conversationally.  
"I'm out of practice, and after...well...after giving it all up 
for romance, I have this fear of being too soft, too...timid.  So 
when I got a tip that a deal was going down tonight, I went 
along.  Walked right into a trap."

  "You should have called someone to back you up," he ground out.  
"And you have nothing to prove.  You are the most respected 
reporter in the building."

She turned towards him with a start.  Looking him over, up and 
down.  "I almost forgot," she blurted. "That it was...you."

"The guy at the desk," he returned, not sure why he felt so hurt 
all of a sudden.
It shouldn't matter. It didn't matter.

"You're...different this way."  She ran her eyes from the tips of 
his boots up to his slicked back hair.  "Not the same person at 
all."

"But I am," he answered.  "I am...the same person."

Their eyes held for one long moment. He watched the expressions 
flicker across her face wishing that he knew what they meant. "I 
hadn't really thought about...how lonely... that could make a 
person...feel," Lois finally said softly, carefully.  Her voice 
trailed away as her study of him sharpened, changed.

He tore his eyes away, returned them back to the sky, to the 
stars, to the quiet nothingness that was out there.  Suddenly he 
felt like crying. He didn't cry.  Never cried.  Hadn't since that 
day in Smallville.

"I have to go," he said abruptly.  "I'll take you down.  Go to 
the police, tell then what happened."  Part of him wanted to 
offer to stay with her until she did, but that wasn't in 
Superman's job description.  He rescued.  He didn't stick around 
for the paperwork.

"You go on," she prompted, gesturing towards the door on the 
roof.  "I'll jog down.  And I'll...see you tomorrow."

He lifted off, somewhat self-conscious in front of her.  Unless 
he was in the costume, he never flew in front of people.  Even 
though everyone in the world knew he could.  It was too weird.  
But now, even here, safe inside the blue spandex, it 
felt...strangely intimate to do so while she was watching. He 
wished she would turn away.  

"That must be nice," she pronounced with envy, not only not 
turning away, but moving closer, as if looking for the wires that 
held him up.  "All the places I would go.  All the things I could 
see.  Hey...could you...fly to Mars?" she finished eagerly.

"No!" His bark of laughter startled him.  "I'm not an astronaut, 
Lois."

"Bummer," she sighed. "I mean, what you can do is great, don't 
get me wrong, I've read every back issue about you...but Mars?  
That would really be something."

"You checked up on me?" he asked with a grin he couldn't hide.

"Sure. You were probably the century's biggest story and I missed 
the whole thing."

Right. He was a story. He knew that. Yet,  just twelve hours 
before at work, she had yelled at him, treated him like...a 
person...well, that wouldn't happen again, would it? She knew 
now.

 "Go on," he ordered her gruffly.  "And when you get home, lock 
your doors. And...call, if you need...help."

"Goodnight, Clark."  With a wave she was gone from his sight.  
Her heels echoing a rapid staccato down the stairwell.  

He hovered long enough to see her exit the building and hail the 
nearest cab.  Then he pulled the blanket of sky around him and 
drifted.


~ ~ ~

The morning came too early. He still felt like an open sore- none 
of his usual coping mechanisms had served him well enough to let 
him sleep, to even let him close his eyes without seeing Lois, 
the bomb, the chair...the ticking clock.

Seconds, mere seconds, maybe not even a full second was how close 
he had come to this day being completely different.  A hushed and 
somber newsroom, an article in the works about the demise of the 
one of their own...

Instead, everything was as it always was. James was cheerful, 
focused, intent.  The Daily Planet was awake and running, grease 
on the wheels, all things in motion. Except for him. He sat in 
James's office, a festering cog in the works. He wasn't up to 
sitting at his desk just yet. He had come in early enough that he 
hadn't had to walk past anyone, wish any 'good mornings,' steel 
himself for the inevitable discomfort his presence brought with 
it. Or the things he might hear. 

You would think that as aware of him as they were, of his 
abilities, that they would be more careful what they said....how 
they said it...

No matter. He was camped out in James's office, easing himself 
into the day. And waiting for her. He hadn't flown past her 
apartment, though he knew where it was now. He had made a point 
of knowing, of looking it up afterwards, just in case she had 
called, had needed him, or rather, his help. He knew that Marvin 
was there, anyway. No doubt had met her at the station, held her 
hand during her interview, taken her home and...

"What?" James asked him.

"What?" he returned blankly.

"The heavy sigh? What's up?" James had been studying the morning 
edition, devoting himself to learning the ins and outs of the 
business with the same intensity that had made him a software 
mogul at a ridiculously early age.

"I didn't know I did that," Clark replied. "Sorry to disturb 
you."

"Something bad last night, I'm guessing." James put the paper 
down. "I've searched the headlines, ours and everyone else's, and 
whatever it was, it isn't here yet. And you are under no 
obligation to report everything that happens to us, especially if 
another paper is right there, but...do you want to talk about 
it?'

"Yes." That's why he was here, wasn't it?  He took a deep breath. 
"But it isn't what you think. It wasn't a...Superman rescue. 
Well, it was, but it was more...um...well, I knew the person and 
I almost didn't-"

"Good morning!" She breezed in, right on cue, showing none of the 
frayed edges that he was so tightly cloaked in this morning. With 
a flourish she presented a mug of coffee to him. It was steaming, 
frothy; he thought he smelled cinnamon, chocolate sprinkles... 

"For last night," she said with a broad wink, thrusting the whole 
concoction at him and collapsing onto the sofa next to him. 
"Drink it while it's hot."

James Olsen's eyes had narrowed perceptively. "Last night...?"

"I...helped Lois out," he fumbled in his hurry to right whatever 
conclusion his boss was drawing.

"You run into some trouble?" The speculation died in James's eyes 
as he immediately turned a concerned frown onto Lois.

"That's what I was trying to tell-" Clark started.

"A flat tire," Lois stated quickly. "And me without a spare." She 
stepped on his foot.

"Lois," he muttered darkly, a protest.

"So, you were in the neighborhood, Clark? Good." James nodded 
curtly, his attention already back on the papers in front of him. 
"Wouldn't want to risk the Planet's best reporter."

The brightness of Lois' answering smile dimmed somewhat under the 
weight of Clark's long, measuring look. "Lois," he repeated. "Why 
don't you-'

"I forgot to ask you!" She stood up in a rush, taking hold of his 
arm and pulling him towards the door. "Just how did you know 
where I had...broken down? You were there so fast."

"Part of my job. Lots of practice," he returned in shorthand, his 
super reflexes working to keep his cup from spilling as they 
walked- no, jogged- into the conference room.

He made a show of watching the sloshing liquid carefully, even as 
she released him and shut the door behind them. He didn't want to 
look up yet.

He didn't want her to know. Didn't want her to guess. That he had 
no idea how he'd found her. That by all rights he shouldn't have. 
He'd never saved someone that way- asleep one minute and pulling 
them out of an explosion the next. She could have died. She 
should have died. He didn't know why she hadn't.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a nervous gesture he hadn't 
lost even after giving up the glasses. She was watching him. The 
very picture of innocence.

"You didn't go to the police, did you?" He was proud of how calm 
his voice sounded. How unperturbed. "You just...went home? Didn't 
tell anyone you were strapped to a bomb and nearly splattered all 
over the harbor?" Ok, so his voice had risen on that last, but no 
one could fault him for that.

"I'm making progress," she answered quietly. Her eyes pleaded 
with him, asking him for what he couldn't give. His blessing to 
her recklessness.

He sank into the nearest chair, closing his eyes. "No," he said.

"Hear me out-"

"Lois, we are going to the police. Today.  Right now. There is no 
way I am letting you-"

"Letting me?"

"Letting you," he pronounced, opening his eyes, meeting her hard 
stare with his own. His had never failed him, even before 
Superman.

Until now.

 "If I'd reported it," she explained patiently, "it would have 
scared them off."

"You really had them scared last night, didn't you, Lois?" 

"Bad timing." She dismissed him, moving past him to pick through 
the stale pastries left over from the previous morning's 
conference. "Bad luck." This with her mouth full.

"Bad luck I found you? Bad luck you didn't get to fulfill your 
obvious death wish?"

It was over the top and over the line, but he didn't care. He 
rose to his feet pacing angrily. "When I left you last night you 
were on your way to the police. You lied to me."

"I never said I was going," she returned matter-of-factly. "You 
said that. And I don't lie, Clark. Ever."

"What does Marvin say?" he exploded in exasperation. "What was 
his reaction when you got home last night? Or did you just trot 
home and get into bed and say, 'Sorry I'm late, honey?'"

Again, way, way over the top, over the line. He should shut up, 
he really should.

"What Marvin might have said is none of your business!" she 
retorted, heat staining her cheeks. "And believe me when I get 
into bed with him, we're not...talking!"

He flinched. Stung. For no good reason. No reason at all. He had 
asked for it.

"I...I...just thought he would be...concerned. Have a right to 
know what...almost happened." 

And what had been haunting him ever since. The reason he couldn't 
bear the quiet, all the 'what ifs' that floated to the surface.

"Marvin is fine." The fight had left her voice, too. Just as it 
had his. "Are you?" she asked gently.

Caught off guard, he sat back down with a thud. "Yeah...it was 
just...really close, Lois. Really, so very close...and I almost 
didn't..." He couldn't finished, couldn't meet her eyes. 
"Almost," he repeated dumbly.

"But you did," she soothed, moving towards him. He heard her 
coming and had just enough time to brace himself for the 
onslaught to his senses he knew her nearness would bring, almost 
like the first Lois, but so much worse... He shook the thought 
off. Didn't want it.  "And I'm fine. And closer than ever to the 
heart of this. And they think I'm dead!" She patted him on the 
back as if this was a great thing. "So that takes care of 
worrying they'll get me."

"Of course," he mocked. "Good plan, Lois."

"You want in?"

"What?"

"One time offer. You helped me out, I'll pay you back. And you 
can...lend a hand with things, how's that?"

That was perfect. That was...more than perfect. 

"Yes," he said immediately despite every cell in his body telling 
him differently. <Not smart. Not smart.> "I want in."

"Stake-out tonight," she called over her shoulder, moving on 
towards her desk, towards the rest of the day.

 He stayed where he was a good long time. His coffee cooled and 
he had to reheat it several times. 

What had he done? No. Scratch that. He knew what he'd done.

 He also knew he didn't care.

~  ~ ~

"Lois Lane is alive and well this morning."

"I don't know where you get your information, but I watched the 
whole thing from the dock, saw the explosion. No way she could 
have gotten out of it."

"You must have missed it, then, because she did."

"The knots she was tied with were impossible. The bay was 
deserted. The timer was short-"

"Did you see Superman?"

"No- nothing. Wait...maybe. I don't know, now that you mention 
it, but I swear everything went off as planned."

"And I'm telling you, she's up and walking around today. That 
wasn't the plan."

"Then...you've seen her."

"That would be my point, yes."

"Uh....won't happen again."

"No. Because we need to back-off for a bit. You go away. I'll lay 
low. She's going to dig now, which isn't good. Have the place 
emptied so she won't find anything."

"I can just start distribution a little earlier, I guess."

"Carefully.  If it was Superman who grabbed her, we might have 
some trouble."

"A distraction might be nice. Give him something to do today. 
Maybe even something she could report. Otherwise, I don't think 
she's the type to get bored and move on, you know?"

"Good point. Do it. No fatalities.  And don't call until I get in 
touch with you."

"You're the boss."

~ ~ ~

"What is it?" she asked him as he stood up from his desk.

"What is what?" He threw her an absent look. 

"What...is...it?" she repeated more slowly, moving towards him, 
the coffee cup she had just refilled titling dangerously.

"I'm hearing sirens," he whispered. No reason to whisper, 
just...he did. "A lot of them. I have to-"

"I'll follow you." She didn't give him a chance to answer. She 
dumped everything, including the coffee onto her desk, and 
returned with her car keys. "Unless you want to fly me?" she said 
when he eyed them. 

"I...usually write up this sort of thing," he stammered, moving 
towards the stairwell now, the pitch of the sirens almost 
unbearable. "That's how I earn my keep." He sped up, hoping to 
shake her off.

"Well, the actual rescue stuff, sure," she agreed easily, heading 
through the door just a step before he did. How had she...? "But 
you can't be everywhere at once, right? I might see something you 
miss."

"Something I miss?" He halted. "I have x-ray 
vision...superhearing...I don't...miss anything." And God help 
him, he often wished he could.

"Hey," she patted him on the arm and fixed him with a bright 
smile. "I'm not criticizing. It's just that you and I 
agreed...we're working together."

"On the docks," he corrected her, jerking the knot loose in his 
tie and jogging up. Maybe she wasn't going to leave, but he had 
to.

Her eyes followed his hands avidly. "Are you- do you- where's the 
Suit?"

He stopped again. She was right on his heels, and he wasn't 
stripping in front of her that was for sure. This was 
his...private stairwell. Maybe no one had told her that, but once 
who he was had been exposed and his repeated trips here noted, 
everyone had stopped using it.

"I think whatever it is, it's happening at Eleventh and 
Huntsford," he offered a bit desperately.

She reversed course immediately, heading down at a speed almost 
matching his. "See you there!" 

Well, he might have been wrong. It was hard to say from inside, 
the acoustics sometimes confused things. He'd learned that the 
hard way.  It was probably closer to Fifty-first and Huntsford. 
He'd just go and check it out.

~ ~ ~

"Interesting, Kent," she sang out as she exited the elevator an 
hour later. "Eleventh and Huntsford was just a bevy of activity. 
You missed it..."

She leaned over his shoulder, eyeing his notes. "Oh, but I see 
you found something to occupy your time, too." She said it 
sweetly, though it was hard to miss that she was breathing down 
his neck.

"I'm still new at this." He shrugged. "I might have been off on 
those street numbers... by a tad."

"Or by miles, but who's counting?"

"Are we...still on for tonight?" he asked softly, holding his 
breath.

When she didn't answer, he stopped typing. She was perched on the 
edge of his desk like she'd always been there...like she belonged 
there. Her face was completely unreadable, though he had the 
uncomfortable feeling she was reading him, a bit too well.

"I'm sorry," she offered, throwing him. 

He swallowed. This Lois, again, not what he expected. "No. I'm 
sorry, Lois. You had a point-"

"I didn't make it well," she interrupted. "And probably made you 
feel...weird."

"I don't do a lot here. So when something comes up, I'm just used 
to...covering it, myself."

"And no one else goes with you? An entire room full of reporters? 
When you get that look on your face?"

"I guess they're just...doing me the professional courtesy," he 
suggested, though he had never though of it that way before. He 
went where the news was, and yet, no one ever asked to go along, 
or even asked him details afterwards. Maybe that was a little..."

"Crazy," Lois muttered under her breath.

"I hear stuff like that," he told her without thinking.

She stiffened, then relaxed. "Of course you do. Man, what I 
wouldn't give..." 

"So..." He cleared his throat, "About the docks...?"

"Yeah. I'll pick you up after work. Don't be late." She stood and 
threw at glare at those around them, many of whom had stopped 
typing, walking, breathing at her entrance, enthralled by the 
show. It worked. The silence, which he hadn't noted, was 
immediately filled with sounds of activity.

"And we should work something out," Lois said. "If you want a 
reporter with you when you're working your...other job. Think 
about it."

He nodded mutely. He'd think about it...later.

Right now, he needed to get home, needed to see Lana. He'd call. 
Maybe she'd like him to bring something special for lunch. They 
could...talk. He would tell her about tonight, the stake-out. It 
was all very professional. Two colleagues watching a warehouse.  
No big deal.

The spot where Lois had been, the corner of his desk, felt 
unusually empty.

But that was ridiculous. A ridiculous thought. He just wasn't 
used to company at work. He was just...lonely. Missing Lana. He 
wouldn't wait until lunch, then. He'd send this to James and go 
home now. 

Maybe for the rest of the day. Soak up as much of his wife as he 
could- until tonight. 


~ ~ ~

"I can't believe how much I used to love this. The cramped 
confines, the never changing scenery. The hours of boredom in 
exchange for fifteen minutes of stark terror. And that's if I was 
lucky." 

 They were parked a respectable distance from the warehouse she 
had received the tip about. It hadn't even been an hour, and he 
could tell she was losing patience.

Over lunch, he had told Lana carefully that he'd be working 
tonight. Her 'What's new about that?' had been so resigned, as if 
she simply lacked the energy to complain about his absences 
anymore...

He shifted in his seat, fiddling with the seatbelt he still wore. 
Years of habits, of human habits, took a while to break.

He had informed Lana this was different. He was working on 
something for the paper. She had immediately known...something. 
He could tell. And despite his earlier resolve, he hadn't offered 
more. Hadn't come right out and said 'Lois.' 

And she hadn't asked.

 Or tried to stop him.

 If she had...?

But she hadn't. And Lois needed back-up. Who was more qualified 
for that than he was? Besides, this was just work. He wanted to 
contribute to the paper that still employed him, despite the 
difficulties that came with that. And Lois had provided him with 
a way to do it. It felt good to be useful. Useful as Clark Kent. 
He'd gone to journalism school. He'd been a writer. He still was. 
Just not like Lois, or anyone else at the Planet for that matter.

He was forgetting. Forgetting Clark Kent and the life he used to 
lead. And that scared him, scared the hell out of him.

 "So...you haven't done this in a while, I take it?" he ventured, 
eager to direct his thoughts away from the direction they had 
taken.

"Not in ages," she sighed. "It feels like a different lifetime 
ago."

"A big change..." he started, then hesitated. Too personal, 
maybe, for work colleagues.

"From sitting in the jungle writing romance novels?" She grinned 
at him. "Are you always so polite, Clark?" She didn't wait for 
his answer. "And I have to ask- we've been sitting here for ages, 
have you...you know?"

He frowned. He'd come along to help, but the investigative side 
of journalism was new to him. He'd had very little time to work 
his way into his job at the Planet before he had found himself 
world famous for another one entirely. Maybe he was supposed to 
be following a procedure? Maybe there was certain way this was 
done?  He felt very green all of a sudden. Very green and very 
off balance.

"I...I don't know...what?" he faltered, reddening beneath her 
gaze, grateful it was dark enough to hide it.

"Taken a peek? Listened in?" She had the grace to blush a bit 
herself.  "I just figured..."

Something cold settled in his gut. A disappointment so weighted 
he had some trouble speaking around it. "You just figured...you'd 
use me...my abilities...?" He stopped, swallowing hard. It was 
stupid to be offended, really stupid. Lois was simply being 
smart. He was a great instrument for spying. Lord knew that had 
been discussed and debated from the inside out when he'd first 
started helping the police. 

"I can't," he continued heavily. "It isn't ethical. Or legal. And 
believe me, many a defense attorney has used that argument to get 
their crooked client off the hook. 'Brought in by Superman, 
unfairly trapped....'"

She moved her hand to cover his, and the rest of what might have 
been a bitter diatribe died on his lips. "Holy hell!" she swore 
hotly. "Really? How dare they? If you caught them in the act...no 
matter how you did it...guilty is guilty!"

"You'd think." He sat very still, staring straight ahead. Trying 
not to feel. "I imagine you're disappointed, that when you 
invited me along...."

"Well, you got me there," she laughed, removing her hand and 
running it through her hair.  She tossed him an apologetic smile. 
"I kind of thought, when you agreed to work with me, that...you 
know..."

"It'd be easy?" 

"Let's just say I didn't set my VCR and there's a really good 
show on tonight," she conceded.

"Figured we'd have this all wrapped up?"  He felt the tension 
leave him, the coldness inside melt. He leaned his head against 
the head rest, a small smile answering hers.

"You'd do the wrapping. I'd tie it up with a shiny bow." 

"Sorry to disappoint you, Lois."

"I didn't say I was disappointed. Just consider me...informed. 
You learn something new everyday. And no wonder you stick to a 
desk job. If you can't be out and reporting without raising 
everyone's suspicions...it's galling, really. They trust you with 
their lives, but if you wanted to write about them...learn about 
them, instead of just..." She flapped her hand in a gesture he 
took to convey his Superman activities. Its very casualness 
intrigued him, and for the first time, he shifted in his seat to 
face her. "I guess the rules are you can save them, just 
don't...notice them. How do you stand that?"

"It will wear off," he told her automatically, the mantra he'd 
been using for half a year now.

She was quiet then. It was all the more noticeable because she 
hadn't stopped talking since she'd picked him up in the Planet's 
parking deck. "I hope so, Clark," she said softly.

He turned and faced the warehouse again. Quickly. Because she had 
looked at him with something in her eyes, and he had wanted 
to...fall into it, whatever it was.

 "So, about that boring part...?"

"Yes?"

"When does that start?"

"You mean you aren't bored yet?" He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"No."

"Me neither."

And he wasn't. And that wasn't good, he knew that much.


~ ~ ~

"I think we're being watched."

"Is everything tied down, then?"

"You don't sound surprised."

"I didn't get where I am by being surprised. Answer the 
question."

"Yes. The place is scrubbed. They can watch all night, but they 
won't find anything."

"They? There's more than one?"

"Two that I can see. Does that surprise you, boss?"

"A little. But...just a little. We might have trouble. When you 
say scrubbed, how well?"

"Really well."

"Superman well?"

"Him again? Look, you're getting paranoid. He flies over, 
sometimes comes down. But he doesn't linger. And the next 
shipment is a week away."

"Is it en route?"

"It leaves tonight."

"Tell it not to, not until I give the go."

"We're going to have a lot of disappointed customers. You really 
think-"

"I do. And you'd do well to remember that. I do the thinking. Not 
you. Time for you to disappear."

"I just got back. The plane has to be serviced, gassed up..."

"Do it and get lost."

"It's done."


~ ~ ~

"And then my mom said, 'Lois, didn't you learn anything from my 
example? Giving up your career for a man! How could you?'"

"But it isn't like you gave it up," he protested, pouring himself 
another cup of  the dreadful coffee Lois had brought along and 
earning himself a brilliant smile in the process. "You just took 
a hiatus. And here you are, back on the job, no harm for having 
been gone."

"My parents certainly don't see it that way," she grumbled, 
accepting a cup from him and averting her face towards her 
window. He watched her reflection, and even in the dark he could 
see the hurt in her eyes. "You would think," she continued 
softly, "that they would have been...overjoyed. Is that 
unrealistic?"

"No," he said firmly. "That's right on target." He waited until 
she looked at him, wanting her to really hear him. "You were gone 
for three years and everyone thought the worst. You coming back, 
healthy and whole, that's a gift to them. To everyone."

She shrugged. "I put them through a lot, you know. Even before I 
went missing. I was a hard kid, a bit...rebellious." 

"No kidding?" He grinned.

"Maybe it's because I wasn't easy to raise, maybe that's why they 
aren't able to...welcome me back gladly." Her voice wavered only 
the smallest amount on that last word. If he hadn't been super, 
he suspected he wouldn't have caught it at all. Or the quick 
catch of the breath that went with it.

If she cried, he didn't know what he would do.

 No. That was stupid. He would do what any person would do. Hold 
out his arms, offer comfort. A warm embrace and some reassurance. 
Part of him wanted to take the liberty, make the friendly 
gesture,  maybe ease some of her pain. But a far larger part of 
him wanted to run. For his life. Not exactly a superhero thought, 
was it? Lois Lane cries and Superman abandons her, in the dark in 
a bad part of town...at superspeed.

He needn't have worried. She was tougher than that. Or at least 
very good at pretending to be. 

"I lost my parents when I was young," he told her, not wanting to 
let the matter drop, despite the risks. "If they turned up now, 
after all this time, and said, 'It was just a misunderstanding. 
We were never dead, just...'" He tilted his head, tried to think 
of an alternative.

"Vacationing in Tibet?" Lois offered. "And we fell in love with 
the place and forgot to write."

"Yes!" he pronounced. "Sorry if you thought you were orphaned, 
son, but Tibet was so great we couldn't pull ourselves away."

"And then what?" Lois asked, her smile warming her face and his 
heart all at once.

"I'd throw myself into their arms. I'd ask for my souvenirs. I'd 
be...the happiest guy on the planet."

"Not bitter? Not mad because they made you suffer needlessly?" 
she pushed.

"That, too," he answered truthfully. "But compared to how glad I 
would be to see them again, that would be a small thing, Lois. An 
afterthought. And you're their kid; they shouldn't put conditions 
on their love."

She sat back and nodded once. "Yeah."

"They should be ashamed if they've done that," he said bluntly.

"Thank you," she whispered. Nobody's ever...I mean, I can't 
believe I just told you all that. I was gone for three years, and 
except for Perry, no one really opened their arms to me."

"Their loss," he told her with an ache in his chest, in his empty 
arms, that he didn't want to examine too closely. "And now you've 
got Marvin."

~  ~ ~ 

"Daily Planet."

"May I speak to Clark Kent, please?"

"He isn't here. I could connect you to his voice mail?"

"No. That's fine...James?"

"Yes. Sorry...is this Lana?"

"It is. I hoped he was there. He said something about working at 
the Planet tonight."

"He did? Oh...well...he might have been here and gotten called 
away. That happens a lot."

"Tell me about it. So, you're not...working with him? He 
mentioned...he was on an assignment...?"

"No. I...um...just haven't figured out how to get out of here 
before two a.m. Still learning, you know. Clark said he was on an 
assignment?"

"I thought he might be working with you. Have you...put him with 
anyone? A partner, maybe?"

"His hours make him a bit too...unpredictable for that. I've 
thought about it, but whoever I put him with would end up with a 
lot in their lap, probably at the very last second. Not that I'd 
blame Clark...no way. Just...he's hard to assign, you know? Are 
you sure you heard him right?"

"I might not have. It seems like I didn't."

"If I see him before you do, I'll tell him you called. Everything 
ok?" he asked belatedly. "I know why I'm up in the middle of the 
night..." He let that trail off.

"It's fine. I just didn't expect him to be gone so long."

"Check the news, Lana," he assured her. "I bet he's detained 
half-way round the world, you know? All in a days work. And you 
guys should get a system, a pager, something. Otherwise I can see 
how you'd lose track of each other all together."

"Right. Well, goodnight James, and sorry to have bothered you."

"No bother, Lana. Nice to have a little company. Sleep well."

James hung up the phone and moved to stand by the window, 
studying the darkened city. From where he stood it was clear that 
most everyone was home, their day long since over...

  Well, he was learning, and wasn't wasting a minute, wasn't 
wasting his time sleeping. Computers, politics, and now the 
running of a major metropolitan paper...

He wouldn't call the Daily Planet the world's greatest. That had 
been Perry's boast, and while he had been at the helm it had 
probably been true... 

 Though he was inexperienced at running a paper, he knew people. 
Knowing people, their needs and their wants, was part of what had 
brought him so far in such short time. 

Lana was worried. Scared, maybe?

James leaned his head against the glass, searching the sky for 
signs of Superman. It sounded like Clark had...lied to his wife. 
There was no assignment. He had no partner. He did whatever he 
could, and James let him. Welcomed him. Having Superman on staff 
was a great asset, despite his limitations as a reporter. After 
Clark had been revealed, and after he had decided to stay on, 
circulation had quadrupled. The trick was keeping all those 
readers now...

So, where was Clark? What was he investigating? And with whom?  
Lana had seemed sure he was working with someone, but what if it 
wasn't work...?

 He had a flash, fleeting, of Lois and Clark together in the 
conference room, sharing coffee and some conversation...

 No. He dismissed that thought, smiling at his own stupidity. It 
was late and his imagination was running wild. There was nobody 
more honest than Superman. And Lois wouldn't...She was with 
Marvin and she'd made it clear that her heart was spoken for.

 Which was just as well. Because there was something about her...

 Something that would definitely...complicate things. He was her 
boss, and you didn't run a successful operation that way, no 
matter how tempting. And he had made sure he could count her as a 
friend, so...

 Lana and Clark had simply gotten their wires crossed. Superman 
was just busy. Superman was always busy.

He sighed, returning to his desk to shut down his computer. He 
would go home. Morning would come too early as it was, and no 
doubt bring with it more problems that he had no idea how to fix.

Perry had made this part look easy.

~ ~ ~

 "He was nothing like my type. But then my type had always been a 
major wash. So, when he expressed an interest in this shy, off-
hand, sort of way, I found myself...listening. Which I have to 
admit I never did a lot of before."

"Oh, come on, Lois. You're a reporter; you interview people for a 
living. You listen-"

"For what I'm looking for," she cut him off with a dismissive 
wave. "For the angle. What's underneath and between the lines. 
But the words themselves? Hardly."

"So, you listened to...Marvin?" 

"With both ears." She smiled fondly, looking into the distance 
and seeing something he couldn't.

"And what did he say that was so convincing?" 

"That he liked me," she answered easily, then laughed at the 
expression he hadn't even tried to hide. "What? You were looking 
for something else?" 

"Well, maybe a bit more...deep," he confessed. "I mean, 'I like 
you.' Doesn't that stop working in the fifth grade?"

"No one ever just liked me before," she returned. She said that 
with no sorrow, no self-pity, just a shrug of her shoulders. "I 
was told I was smart, good at what I did...beautiful," she added 
a bit self-consciously.

He stopped himself from nodding too emphatically. 

"But liked? Just for me?  No. Marvin was my...first. In a lot of 
ways." The dreamy smile was back. He didn't dare go near that 
tantalizing last statement. Thankfully, he didn't have to.

"What about you?" She shifted abruptly, turning towards him in 
the confines of the front seat. 

"What?" he asked too quickly, more than a little disconcerted by 
the frankness of her stare.

"I've been spilling all my secrets. It's your turn now. You're 
married. What about you and...?"

"Lana," he supplied, hating the way the name sounded in the car, 
intruded. Hating himself more for hating it.

"How long have you been married?" She yawned and stretched, 
toeing off her shoes.

"Two years," he stated. No longer conversing with her profile he 
felt...oddly exposed. If she could see through him... Not that 
there was anything to see. He was talking with a colleague on the 
job. After tonight, a friend. 

"Newlyweds, then," she commented lazily. 

"Childhood sweethearts," he made himself say. That's what they 
always said. It was their thing. One hand moved of its own 
volition to the door handle. Before she could respond, he had the 
door open, welcoming the stench of Hobbs Bay.

"How about I get us something?" he stammered. "We haven't eaten 
and it's been..." He glanced at his watch and froze in shock. 
"It's four a.m."

"You're kidding!" She gaped at him. "Good grief, I talked your 
ear off!"

"No wonder I need more coffee," he teased.

He pulled himself out of the car, and the growing space between 
them eased his mind considerably.

"What's your favorite, Lois?" He wanted to know. He wanted to 
know her. Wanted to know everything. "Too early for breakfast?"

He noted the way she ran her fingers through her hair, thinking.

"I'd kill for a big slab of bacon, or maybe a ham and cheese 
omelet," she pronounced. "Marvin's a vegetarian."

"Coming up." He winked. "And we won't tell Marvin."

"You know, we've been here all night and nothing's happened. 
Maybe we should just...call it a day? It's just a few hours until 
sunrise, anyway."

"Is that what you want?" he asked her. "Forget breakfast? You 
probably need the sleep anyway."

"Is that a challenge, Kent?" Her voice had taken on a rather 
dangerous tone.

"You don't have to keep up with me, Lois," he said nicely. "I'm 
here to help, remember?"

"I take my coffee with a splash of non-fat-

"-non-dairy creamer, and an artificial, all chemical, sweetener. 
Absolutely no natural ingredients whatsoever, right?"

"How did you...?"

"I'll be back in two minutes," he overrode her. "Try not to get 
in trouble." He shut the door, muffling her reply.  It 
was...colorful.

He moved away at something faster than average human speed, but 
nowhere close to superspeed. He rounded the building, out of her 
sight, taking the time to get a final look around- just in case.

When he was sure there were no threats in the offing, when he saw 
that she wasn't looking his way, he spun and shot into the sky.

There wasn't any reason he couldn't have done that in front of 
her. But he'd just had his first real conversation with someone 
since his Superman career began. If she saw things might change. 
She might change. And he liked the way things were now.

He liked working with Lois Lane. 

~ ~ ~

Lois worked the shiny new Jeep through a small hole in traffic, 
timing it perfectly. She allowed herself a tight, satisfied smile 
as the opposing driver's horn blared in protest.

She hadn't forgotten how this was done. Three years surrounded by 
nothing but bird calls and tree frog song, all dampened by a 
carpet of moss and lush vegetation that Marvin crooned to each 
morning...and she still knew how to handle herself.

A screech of tires pulled her back to her surroundings. A 
different jungle all together. One she loved.  And as much as 
Marvin just could not understand it, it was the one she 
preferred. She had taken a three year break from the frenetic 
pace and the concrete madness, and she was grateful for every 
minute of it.

But she was home now. And despite her fears that her time away, 
her utter contentment, might have softened her drive, honed the 
edges off her instincts, she was exactly where she wanted to be.

Back at the Planet. Neck deep in an investigation after only a 
month. Partnered with...well...kind of a partner. It was all very 
unofficial. Early stages and all. But working with Clark on 
this...however casually... wasn't all that bad. 

She swerved to avoid a slow moving vehicle. It wasn't her fault 
if other drivers lacked her quick reflexes. She had places to be. 
Things to pursue. She had a job. Deadlines. People at work 
who...were nice to work with. 

And something more. The best thing in the world.

"A hot lead," she sang to the driver who was currently shaking 
his fist at her. He couldn't hear her, so she just waved. 

She was in such a good mood she let all the pedestrians in the 
crosswalk get to safety before taking off again.

Maybe a hot lead was overstating a bit, but the warehouse was 
where it was happening. Every cell in her body told her so. And 
Lois Lane and her...partner were going to get to the bottom of 
it. 

It was big, whatever it was. She just knew it. The same way she 
knew there were seven safe ways to cook fern, but the eighth way 
was deadly. Practice, pure and simple.

She hadn't lost her touch. 

"Page one stuff," she sang again, because there was no one to 
hear, and she couldn't keep the broad grin off her face.

With precision timing and a quick u-turn she beat a smaller sedan 
to a really great parking space. 

She hopped from the Jeep, stopping once to admire it, pretending 
to miss the would-be parker's single fingered salute. Not 
everyone had such a great job to wake up to, so that explained a 
lot of the general crabbiness in the mornings. She'd overlook it.

"Better manners among the primates in the jungle, though" she 
cooed to the silvery paint job, giving it a fond pat. Maybe the 
vanity plate had been a little much. But she'd been unable to 
resist. Marvin would just...faint at the sight of it.

"Because it runs on gasoline and not daisies," she sighed as she 
headed towards the familiar globe in front of the building. 

And she and Clark wouldn't be able to use it for stakeouts. Too 
obvious. They would have to rent something, borrow something...

And they should probably do another one of those soon. Even 
though stakeouts were often tedious and always time consuming, 
they were important. Helpful. Even if nothing seemed to happen. A 
good reporter had to be in position. Had to keep trying. Because 
you never knew when the break would come, and you had to be 
around when it did.

"Maybe he'll bring Chinese," she muttered to herself as she 
darted into the elevator, avoiding a long line of slower moving 
riders.

She beamed at everyone in the tight space, meeting their sour 
faces with a touch of pity. Obviously not everyone had had such a 
smooth commute to work.

When the doors opened on the bullpen, he was there. She wouldn't 
have said that her eyes went to him first thing, exactly. Just 
that he was kind of...hard to miss.

His broad shoulders were turned away from her, and he was pouring 
two mugs of coffee. Since the first morning they had shared 
coffee together, the morning of their first stakeout, he did that 
for her. And he seemed to have an uncanny knack for timing. As if 
he knew exactly when she was arriving.

She could get used to that. The whole partner business, even if 
it was a silent one, wasn't so bad. Really. Who would have 
thought?

She brought her good mood with her, hitting him with a grateful 
smile as she took the cup from him. On impulse she gave him a 
noisy kiss on the cheek. "In love with the world today," she 
apologized as she wiped her lipstick from his face. He held 
really still as she did so.

"Oh, go back to work, people," she scolded in no particular 
direction. "No wonder you're all so easy to scoop, all you do is 
stand around."

"Sorry about that," she muttered to him, dumping her things on 
her desk. His hand moved in a blur to stop her coffee from 
landing at her feet.

"No problem." Clark sounded a little flustered, even breathless. 
But he worked hard, so that stood to reason.

"Got a minute?" she asked him before he could retreat back to his 
private alcove.

"Would it matter?" He stopped and raised an eyebrow.

"No." She lowered her voice. "Because I have this really great 
idea."

"Oh, god." He blanched, nearly spilling his own coffee.

"Can you meet me?" she pressed on, ignoring him. "Late tonight, 
the usual spot. I've got to get a few things ready first."

She watched the struggle on his face and thought she understood 
it.

"Only if Superman's not busy," she assured him. "Otherwise, I'll 
do fine on my own, don't worry."

"Oh...god," he said very faintly. "I'll...be there."

"Great. See you!" She plopped into her chair and pulled up her 
list of dock workers and ship owners. It was slow going, but 
she'd find something.

 It was working out to be that kind of day.

~ ~ ~

"Tell me what I want to hear."

"We got the stuff in place, just like you wanted."

"You're sure. Exactly how I told you?"

"Exactly.  I gotta say it's a pretty shade of green, but I don't 
see how it works."

"It doesn't matter. As long as it's there."

"And it will...do the job?"

"Guaranteed."

"You sure you aren't...overreacting a bit, Boss? Things have been 
so smooth..."

"Better too careful than too sorry."

"Right. Need anything else?"

"Now that you mention it. Head to the warehouse. Pick up the 
lockbox. It's not safe there anymore."

"I'm telling you it's perfectly safe-"

"Just do it. I'll get it from you later."

"Right. Whatever you say."

"And don't ever forget it."

~ ~ ~

Clark was there before Lois was, circling overhead in his 
civilian clothes, so as not to call attention to himself. He was 
tempted to fly further and see where she was, what might be 
keeping her. 

"No telling," he mumbled on his sixth pass.

Just when he'd decided she must have changed her mind, a car 
pulled up. It was different from the one they'd used last time, 
and had definitely seen better days. But there was no mistaking 
its driver.

He dove silently, landing just behind the dumpster she was parked 
next to. He straightened his wind-blown tie somewhat nervously as 
he approached. 

He had barely knocked on the passenger window before she threw 
the door open.

"No one saw you, did they?" she asked as she tossed a paper sack 
into his lap. She didn't give him a chance to answer. "I didn't 
have a lot of time to put these together, but they ought to be 
just the thing. Get us closer."

He was suddenly very afraid to look, and it must have showed. 
"What?" She frowned at him slightly.  "It's just a disguise."

"A disguise?" he asked her doubtfully.  "We're just watching the 
place, right, so I don't see how..."

"Look, it's a lousy part of town. That's why the hideously banged 
up car, that's why the rotting food and beer cans in the back. 
We're blending in. Otherwise, you know what we'll look like?"

"Give me a hint," he prompted.

"Lois Lane and Superman on a stake-out." She had shimmied over 
the backseat and pulled open her own bag. "So, get dressed," she 
ordered, as she started on her buttons.

He faced front quickly, opening the bag she had thrust at him 
with some trepidation. "What did I get?" he asked a bit too 
loudly. "Oh...Lois...good grief." 

"Shut up and get dressed," she answered, her nylons falling 
across his shoulder.

He swallowed. Blew a bit of cooling breath in the car, just 
to...frost up the windows. He'd defrost it later, but the whole 
world didn't have to see...whatever the show was behind him.

He took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, resolutely ignoring 
the rustling in the back seat. The zipper being zipped, the 
whisper of...dammit. <Resolutely ignoring,> he reminded himself.  
When his shirt came off, he thought he detected a low, muttered 
exclamation from behind him. "You ok?" he asked carefully.  
<Zipper stuck? Can I...? Shut up, Clark!> his inner voice 
screamed. <Shut up and get dressed and get this over with....and 
don't...turn....around.>

 <<I am not even thinking of turning around,>>he answered that 
voice indignantly, scowling fiercely.

"Why are you just sitting there?" Lois asked in a somewhat 
strangled voice.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Just...<wrestling my inner demons, 
indulging in some fantasies, beating my libido into a pile of 
mush with a rusty tire iron>...finding my shirt," he finished on 
a sigh.

He pulled it on, along with the shoes she had picked and a pair 
of glasses with the largest frames he'd ever seen. He wouldn't 
ask. It was so much easier if he just didn't.

"A pocket protector?" He wasn't asking, he had just noticed. 
"And...one, two, three...eleven pens? Who am I in this charade?" 
he wondered aloud, again, not asking. He pulled the rear-view 
mirror in his direction for a look at himself, but as its angle 
changed, he caught a searing glance of the backseat, of 
creamy...dewy...nothing. He saw nothing. "I'm...a geek," he 
guessed with resignation.

"Exactly." One long, impossibly long, fish-net stocking covered 
leg was thrown over the seat. "Do me a favor?" Lois asked a bit 
breathlessly. "Look the other way, this skirt is almost against 
the law."

If he had swiveled his head with more force it would have flown 
off his shoulders. He had a brief vision of it sailing through 
the window, shattering the glass, and rolling to a stop in the 
littered parking lot, where it could be used as a kickball by the 
poor kids who lived in this part of town. That, he decided, might 
be better than this.

"Ok," she said demurely, and he braced himself to turn around.

<Leather!> was the first thing his brain said. <Leather, 
something laced up, lacy, a laced-up something lacy,> it shouted 
next. <And legs, good god, legs and legs...> 

Lois had pulled the mirror back towards her, leaning forward to 
make quick work of adding about a hundred layers of make-up to 
her perfect face. No. To her face...not her perfect face, it was 
just a face. And lipstick to her full, glistening, pouty...

These shoes were really comfortable. She'd known his size. And 
you didn't really see this kind outside of bowling alleys or the 
1950s, so that was interesting. Wait...she probably just stole 
them from a bowling alley. Some poor guy with size elevens 
bowling in his socks....He threw a glare at her. <Mistake! Abort 
the glare!> She was...adjusting her...well the lacy thing maybe 
wasn't comfortable, so she was...but these shoes were, and the 
colors, well...they matched the shirt and some of the pens in his 
pocket...so he was nicely put together.

He took a deep breath. Good. It had probably been ten minutes 
since he'd done that at all.

"We blend in," Lois was saying. Actually, she hadn't stopped 
talking the entire time. "If anyone sees us, I am obviously 
your...date....for the evening." She grinned wickedly at him.

"And if anyone needs anything written down or calculated or to go 
bowling," he returned weakly, "I'm their guy."

She looked him over for a minute. He tried not to squirm. "You 
sure don't look like Superman," she said with satisfaction. 
"Now...could you do something about the windows? I can't see out 
and it's freezing in here." She was rubbing her hands on her bare 
arms, the lacy thing obviously not a practical garment.

"Where did you get...that outfit?" he heard himself ask as he 
slowly heated up the car, watching the frost evaporate under his 
careful stare.

"You know...just something I had." She seemed a touch 
embarrassed. 

Marvin. Maybe Marvin liked her dressed this way. Marvin, wherever 
you are, he thought viciously, I hate you. And...you're my hero.

"Halloween," she was saying.

Relief flooded through him immediately. Ok, maybe Marvin didn't 
dress her like a tart. Good.  In a nun's habit, that would be 
nice. Or a huge, fluffy robe with a belt...with a lock on it. 

He lost himself in layering Lois in clothes, mental images of 
covering every inch of her. Mittens, those socks with a niche for 
every toe. He hated those. Earmuffs. Well, she would have to keep 
her apartment pretty cold to be walking around in all of that...

 Marvin, if I ever lay eyes on you, I owe you an enormous 
apology, he thought. Right after I punch your lights out.

"Whatcha thinkin', Pocket Boy?" she teased him.

"That's Pocket Man," he scolded her. 

"Right, Pocket Man." She turned her attention from him, examining 
the building and reaching for her binoculars. "See anything? 
Let's hope this isn't all for nothing."

Oh, it wasn't for nothing. From where he was sitting, the evening 
had already paid for itself.

~ ~

"Answer me this," he said after a time. "Why are we still here, 
Lois? We've stared at this warehouse for weeks and nothing- 
absolute nothing has happened. I fly over every night and it's 
always deserted."

"Precisely." She turned a smug grin on him. "That's weird, don't 
you think? These other warehouses at the very least have dock 
workers standing around outside. We see maintenance crews, 
delivery trucks. But here- nothing. Ever."

"Ah." 

"You aren't convinced. Stick with me, Kent, you'll learn a little 
something about reporting."

The words weren't out of her mouth when a car pulled up.

"Duck," she hissed, pushing him down below the dash as best she 
could.

"Lois," he protested, his eyes level with her chest. He shut them 
tightly, but not before he'd learned the stitch count on the lacy 
thing. "I am perfectly capable of ducking."

She wasn't listening. She was peering over the steering wheel, 
staring intently through a pair of binoculars. 

He rose up slowly, lowering the glasses she had picked for him.

"That shirt is too loud to be sneaking around in," he said. "And 
those sandals...This guy missed a turn somewhere."

"That beard," Lois choked beside him. "That...hair."

"Apparently he hasn't seen a barber or a razor in years...looks 
likes he's been marooned somewhere, or lost in-"

"The jungle," she finished for him. "In the jungle...dammit!" She 
was reaching for the door handle.

"Wait, wait, wait!" He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back 
towards him, still trying to keep them out of sight. "This is 
what we've been waiting for. You can't get out and march over 
there and-

"Kill him with my bare hands?" Her breath was coming fast and 
shallow, her cheeks flushed with anger.

"Who is it?" he asked her, loosening his grip, but not daring to 
let her go. The sound of her hammering heart increasing his own 
sense of anxiety. And again, that urge...to stroke her hair, to 
comfort that look off her face.

"Lester Lyle." Tears of fury welled in her eyes, but were blinked 
away even as he noted them.

For a minute the name meant nothing. He stared down at her trying 
to fathom the reason for her obvious distress. And then it hit 
him. "The...letter carrier? The guy who never delivered-"

"James was right. Never trust a guy with that much alliteration 
in his name," she repeated bitterly.

"He's back," Clark informed her, pushing her lower still as the 
car slid past their dumpster. "He's leaving."

"That was fast." She had one hand on his chest, attempting to 
move him as he watched Lester's car roll slowly down the dock. He 
noted the plate number, make, and model. "We're going in."

"Wait, Lois..." He sat up now, suddenly aware of their position, 
the feeling of her pressed against him. "We're...observing. We 
should get back to the Planet, run him through the computer, find 
out all we can-"

She had the door open. He was talking to her retreating back.

Superman couldn't break and enter. But maybe Lester had left it 
unlocked.?

~ ~ ~

The place was completely empty. That, in and of itself, was odd. 
No dust, no discarded boxes, no dirt. None of the usual forgotten 
things left behind. 

"There's a stairwell in the back," he told her, but she was 
already headed in that direction.

"Can you see in?" she called over her shoulder, not bothering to 
cover the sound, the place was silent as a crypt.

"Lead," he answered.

"What?" She stopped, waiting for him to catch up. He hadn't been 
watching her walk away, though, he'd just been...thinking.

"I can't see through lead," he explained.

"Oh."

He shrugged. "I don't know why," he answered her unspoken 
question.

"You're interesting, you know that? Let's go up."

The doors were locked and he hesitated. 

"You're strong enough to, or wait, can you not push through lead, 
either?"

"No, I can, but..."

"But?"

"This is against the law. Right now we're just 
trespassing...er....looking around. But if I break this lock and 
we go in..."

"Maybe we find out what's going on?"

"I'm Superman. I have an agreement with the city. I made 
promises. I make them nervous, you know, like Big Brother is 
always around watching them, and if he ever decided to become 
judge and jury there really isn't anything they could do to stop 
him. So, I go out of my way to just...stick to the stuff that's 
fairly cut and dried. No shades of gray. In the first few months 
there was a bit of trouble...Well, I've mentioned the 
lawsuits...they never came to much, but..."

He was still talking when she finished picking the lock. The ping 
of the pin coming loose sounded loud in the cavernous room.

"Ok," she said. "That was me, not you. I'll testify to that. Now, 
you want to stay here? Or wait in the car, Superman?"

"I...no." With some effort he shut his gaping mouth, ignored her 
sweetly sarcastic smile, and followed her up. After a bit of a 
climb he moved around her. "Mind if I go first?"

"In case trouble comes around the corner?"

<So I'm not watching your nearly illegal skirt up three more 
flights of stairs.> 

"Yes," he said.

They found a hallway with a series of doors.

"Empty," he said of each room as they walked quickly past.

They rounded the corner and found what had to be the office. The 
hum of machinery coming from under the door. At last a room that 
had been occupied.

"It's locked," he told her.

She fished inside the lacy thing for whatever she had used 
earlier. He sighed, in for a penny, grabbed the knob and turned 
it with a touch of force.

"Why, Superman," she cooed when the door swung open. "What would 
the authorities think?"

"That you've corrupted me completely." He smiled at her in the 
darkness, watching with some amazement as she pulled a tiny 
flashlight and a small camera out of the same place the lock pick 
had been. "That's...an interesting...system you have there," he 
heard himself say.

She grinned. "You have no idea." With an exaggerated sashay of 
her hips, she pushed around him and got to work. "You take the 
filing cabinet, I've got the desk. Let's find out what Lester 
Lyle is doing out of the Congo and in Metropolis."

She had to tell him twice, but he got the idea after that.

~ ~ ~

"Shipping inventories," she said after a time. "You?"

"The same." 

"I don't know what's important, so I'm just photographing all of 
it, we'll sort it out later. You'll remember what you saw, right? 
You can...do that?"

"Pretty much." He didn't look up from the files.

"I could get used to working with you, partner." 

He did turn then, with a smile in his eyes she didn't think she'd 
seen before. Her fingers fumbled with her camera, and she 
felt...warmed by his gaze. 

Or maybe a bit of heat vision went with that smile? Kind of a 
double-whammy. Give a girl that look, then bathe her in...

While she watched, though, the smile dissolved rapidly, to be 
replaced by...

"Someone's coming," he gasped. "Come here."

Before she could move a muscle he had the drawers shut, her 
flashlight off, and she found herself pressed hard against the 
wall....no wait...ceiling. She peered over his shoulder down into 
the inky darkness. "My camera," she spoke into his ear. He 
shuddered, shifted her weight to one side, then dove back down 
and up just as the door swung open.

The lights blazed into the room and she felt as conspicuous as 
one of those giant balloons in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day 
Parade, the ones it took an army of people to hold down. He 
floated them slowly, silently across the ceiling. She screwed her 
eyes shut, hoping to aid him in making them invisible.  In a 
flash they were out in the hall, a whoosh of wind scattering the 
papers on the desk they had been searching, and eliciting a 
started "hey" from the security guard.

"Close one," he said tightly; setting her down once they were 
around the corner.

"Yeah," she gasped. For a few seconds they just stood in the 
darkened corridor regrouping.

"I didn't hear him until the last minute," he offered 
apologetically.

"I didn't hear him at all, don't worry." She gave him a friendly 
shove on the arm. "Let's get out of here, ok?"

"It's just that, I always hear everything," he told her as they 
started a slow jog towards the stairwell.

"Well, you were looking through those files, probably pretty 
focused?" she guessed. "And you heard in time, we're fine."

"I'm supposed to be watching out for you-"

"Hey," she cut him off sharply, skidding to a halt. "*You* are my 
*partner*, not my watchdog! We are working together! No one is 
watching out for anyone. If anything it should be the other way 
around, you're new at this-"

"The other way around? Oh, come on, Lois, how do you figure that? 
You and I had barely gotten acquainted before I found you tied to 
a bomb. If my timing had been off by half a second..."  

"I don't need any favors from you, Superman," she spat. "I cut 
you in to be nice. Don't make me regret it, or I won't make that 
mistake again!"

"You want to keep it down a little?" he scolded her as they 
entered the stairwell. "I mean, did we sneak out only to yell at 
each other and get caught?"

His serious expression forced a smile from her. She stopped two 
steps below him. "Say it," she threatened.

"Lois-"

"Say it, or I'm not moving."

"Like that's a problem." He sighed wearily, rolling his eyes at 
her. "Say what?"

"That we're partners. That you need me as much as I...might, 
well..."

"Yes?" He raised an eyebrow at her, grinning broadly now, "do 
finish that, partner."

"You need me," she repeated, her chin coming up, her eyes daring 
him to laugh. "Say it."

"As much as you need me," he agreed in a low rumble. It sounded 
like so much more when he said it that way. 

"Right." She blew out a breath, suddenly feeling a bit winded. 
She leaned back, in what she hoped was a casual way, against the 
wall. "So, the point is-"

She felt him against her then, all at once. His hands on either 
side of her head, not touching her, but planted into the wall 
just above her ears. He closed in, something glittering in his 
eyes, so fleeting she only had a glimpse.

"Wha...?" she managed.

"Sorry, Lois." His arms came around her waist and he brought his 
lips to hers. That's all it was. It wasn't really, really 
kissing. He was just...apparently...holding her pretty 
closely...pressing her gently into the cinder block wall behind 
her. She shivered...but only because the wall was cold. In that 
second, he pulled her closer, running his hands up and down her 
back...warming her. And his lips...though still on hers...weren't 
really...moving.  It was more like...they were...caressing...? 
No. That was stupid. Too many romance novels. It was more 
like...more like...She gave up. It was like something, though. 
She'd come back to this later and pin the right word on it. 
Otherwise, it would drive her crazy.

She could ask, she thought hazily. As in, "Hey, partner, what are 
you...what are your...are we kissing?" They shouldn't be. She 
knew that much, though the exact reasons they shouldn't had sort 
of escaped her. 

<Undercover. In danger of being caught. Not exactly the time and 
place...>

Yeah. Those were all good reason to stop. 

<And...oh, god...married...>

The doors crashed open, from above their landing and below. All 
at once their quiet stairwell was well lit and very crowded.

Clark jerked his mouth off hers, turning quickly, a blush rising 
on his cheeks. "You told me this building was deserted," he 
wailed to her plaintively. "I want my money back."

"Dream on!" she snapped after just a few seconds pause, getting 
into the swing of things. She tossed her hair back, staring at 
him in contempt. That blush was amazing, how on earth could he do 
that on command? Super-something? "The stairwell was your sick 
fantasy, sport. Whether or not you go through with it, 
a...deal...is...a...deal." She punctuated each word with a jab to 
his chest. He shrank back accordingly.

"Too bad, buddy," one of the massive security guards chuckled. 

"You have no idea," Clark said to him, shaking his head, 
adjusting his glasses nervously. "She is a lot of woman."

"I can see that," another guard volunteered.

"You're just not enough man," she taunted, sauntering past them 
all casually. Funny how all four of them, Clark included, seemed 
to take that extra moment to watch her walk away. Men.

"You coming?" she said to him dismissively. "Or you want your new 
friends to drive you home?"

"Any of you guys...?" Clark asked hopefully.

"Sorry, man." The burliest of the lot was pulling out his walkie-
talkie. "A couple of... trespassers, that's all." He spoke back 
to the questioning squawk. "In the stairwell. Nothing serious."

"I thought this place was empty," Clark said by way of apology. 
"Believe me, if I'd known we might get caught..."

"Keep away," voiced another guard, as if remembering what was in 
his actual job description. "This place is protected. You have no 
idea-"

"Hey!" One of them, apparently smarter than the rest put 
together, cut him off. "Get out now and you won't have any 
trouble." He glowered at them. "Everybody else back to work."

"Thanks, officer," Clark said nicely. "And if you don't mind not 
telling anyone...I mean, it's embarrassing. I wouldn't want Mom 
to know that I even knew her...much less was trying...you 
know..."

He kept up a steady barrage of harmless babble as she linked her 
elbow with his, pulling him down the remaining steps. "Just shut 
up, Pocket Boy," she snarled.

"You know I don't like that," he protested. "It's Pocket Man!"

 "Goodnight, fellas," she called with a smile and a wave.

Dumbly, they all waved back.

 When they rounded the corner out of the men's sight, he had his 
arms around her and their feet off the floor. "Duck," he ordered. 
She did, keeping her head under his chin as he burst through the 
double doors and up into the night sky.

She laughed the entire way.

"You find that funny?" he demanded, fighting a smile of his own. 
"We're caught by a pack of...of...goons, and that's fun for you?"

"Maybe just a little," she admitted with a grin. "It goes with 
the job, anyway. Hey, want to hear something ridiculous?"

He nodded, pulling her a bit closer as they picked up speed.

"For just a second there, I thought you were really 
just...kissing me." She laughed again, vaguely surprised that he 
didn't join in. "I mean...how stupid is that? We're fighting in 
the stairwell, and I just assume you're suddenly overwhelmed with 
passion."

"I shouldn't have."  His eyes, his voice, his face. Everything 
about him turned serious all at once.

"Oh, Clark, look. It's ok-"

 "No. It isn't," he said. "And I'm sorry, Lois. I just...didn't 
know what else-"

"You did the exact right thing," she assured him. "It worked, 
didn't it?"

"Yeah. It did." 

If his reply was somewhat half-hearted, she chalked that up to 
his embarrassment. There was still a lot of the small town left 
in the world famous man.

~ ~ ~

"We had a break-in."

"What? Who? Did you catch them?"

"Oh, we caught them, but they were harmless. One of the dock 
ladies and a customer. We ran them off."

"You're sure."

"Trust me."

"Did you get the lock box? Everything still inside? The piece?"

"It's taken care of. We're in good shape, don't worry. Just 
thought you should know."

"I don't like it. Keep the men available, just in case."

"That might be a little tricky. They're getting a little 
restless. Just sitting across the street staring at nothing, 
eating and drinking a lot on our dime."

"On whose dime?"

"Ok, ok, on your dime. Still, I don't think we need them."

"We need them. Feed them and keep them happy and out of sight, 
ok? And call me if anything...unusual happens."

"Right."

~ ~ ~

 They landed on the roof of the Daily Planet, and all the way 
down the stairwell Lois 'instructed' him on what they were going 
to do next.

"First, we get those pictures developed. I know an all night 
place, so that's no trouble. You type up everything you read in 
those files- no matter how unimportant it seems. And then, maybe, 
you can fly back and get the car? I'll call Bill, ask him to run 
a check-

"Lois, wait-" He stopped her in mid-stride as she moved down the 
ramp.

"What?"

"My coat." He plucked it from the coat rack, grateful to have 
found it where he left it hours ago.  At her puzzled look, he 
faltered, "I thought you might, you know, want to cover up?"

"I'm fine." She shook her head, marching towards her desk. "It's 
not cold in here."

"Um...but-" He gestured to her outfit. 

"Oh." She looked down in dawning comprehension. "Oh. I see what 
you mean. I can just see the geeks at the photo lab now," she 
laughed. "Don't let me forget to put it on before I go, ok?"

"Maybe you should just...put it on now?" He held it up for her, 
trying to will her into it, giving her arms a gentle mental shove 
into the sleeves.

"There's no one to see. I'm ok." She waved him off impatiently.

He guessed he was no one, then.

"James is here," he told her hurriedly. He could see their boss 
in his office, bent over the late edition like always...if he 
came out... He gritted his teeth at the thought. James already 
looked at Lois like she was the whipped topping on a very large 
sundae. It wasn't his place to notice or to mind; and. if it 
didn't bother Lois, then it certainly didn't bother him. Still, 
no sense tempting the poor guy...

"He's here?" She stopped rummaging for her purse and picked up 
her notes instead.

"He's here," he confirmed, and then stepped closer to her, trying 
that mental shove again, this time not so gently.

"Perfect." She beamed, spun on one heel, and stepped around him. 
"You coming? We've got a lot to tell him."

He caught her at the door and as casually as possible, as if he 
dressed nearly naked, strikingly beautiful co-workers everyday, 
he tossed his coat over her shoulders.

She moved her arms into the sleeves at long last. "That is 
better, thanks," she said absently as she threw the door open 
without knocking. 

He sagged against the doorframe and took just a moment to let the 
small victory wash over him. 

~ ~ ~

"So, you've got something." James sat back slowly. "And you've 
been working on this for a while, I take it?"

"Only a few weeks," Lois said. "And I didn't tell you sooner 
because I wasn't completely positive it was anything."

"But now you know that it is," James stated, shoving himself away 
from his desk and giving her his full attention. "What happened?"

"Lester Lyle happened," she said.

"The letter carrier?" 

 She saw Clark's start of surprise and hid a smile. James, for 
all his inexperience and sometimes vague grasp of details, had 
remembered the name before her partner had.
"Yes, he's the one at the warehouse I had the tip on about 
illegal weapons trafficking. The one that flew the plane-"

"-out of the Congo," James finished, the disbelief in his voice 
evident. "He owes you a lot of postage, doesn't he?" he joked 
weakly. And then, "You're sure, Lois? Sure that of all 
people...?"

"Yes," she said.

 And James was smart. He didn't argue. 

What he did was get very quiet. Shift a bit uncomfortably, 
needlessly arrange and rearrange the pens in his coffee mug. She 
looked to Clark in amusement, but her smile died when she 
realized that he was doing it, too. Studying the cracked plaster 
on the walls as if the patterns they formed might be on a test 
later.

"What?" she demanded. "I mean, I know it's a surprise, and kind 
of crazy, but I saw him with my own two eyes and-

"Have you considered...." James began quietly, and she didn't 
miss the look he and Clark were sharing. "I mean... did you think 
that maybe...since this whole thing seems tied to Lester Lyle, 
that...?" 

He didn't finish. But he didn't have to. She felt Clark tense 
beside her, and without looking, she knew that he was wondering 
the same thing.

"Marvin has nothing to do with this." She concentrated on keeping 
her voice firm, civil. "He would never-" She drew a deep breath 
in. "-ever..."

"Ok," Clark said immediately, moving a hand to her shoulder and 
squeezing. She missed it when it just as quickly dropped away.

James wasn't quite as easy. "It's just that it seems like a 
really big coincidence. The guy who loses your letters, who flies 
in and out of your camp, is the same guy at the warehouse? What 
are the odds, Lois?" 

He had asked it gently, but she felt it all the same.

Clark hand returned, but by his continued silence, she knew he 
harbored the very same questions. She turned on him. 

"Marvin-" she repeated, this time not trying to stay friendly, "-
has *nothing* to do with this. He loved me...loves me," she 
corrected herself hastily, though not hastily enough to miss a 
flare of something behind Clark's eyes. "He wouldn't. He 
isn't...involved."

Her eyes stayed locked on his. She couldn't break from his 
sympathetic gaze for anything.

James's pained voice intruded. "It just...bears asking. Thinking 
about. Nobody's accusing..."

"Aren't you?" she railed. Again, at Clark. He hadn't said a word. 
She knew that. There was no reason to be so angry with him. 
"Aren't you both?"

She did move away from him, then. Wrenching herself from the look 
in his eyes. "You don't know him, but I do."

"Ok," Clark said again, this time much more firmly. "Subject 
closed. So, start with Lyle and follow the trail from there."

"Right," James echoed contritely. "Absolutely. And this is all 
yours. Whatever it is. You guys take it and run with it. But  
keep me informed. I want to learn, step by step, how this is 
done."

She nodded curtly, not really up to saying more, and headed for 
the door.

"I can't do this," Clark said, stopping her cold. "I have 
to...leave this to the two of you."

"You think it's Marvin, don't you?" She whirled around, ready to 
fight. A fight would be welcome. "You think I was lured to the 
Congo and seduced by a criminal botanist, don't you!"

"No, Lois." His quiet voice pulled her back from the edge. And 
even though he wasn't touching her, even from the other side the 
room, she felt the support he imparted, the kindness. Whatever 
Kryptonian mind trick he was using, it worked. 

She held still and listened. He couldn't know how few people she 
did that for.

~ ~ ~

Now that he had her attention, he knew he needed to state his 
case quickly.

"Having me on this story is too risky," he said. "Up to now it's 
been fine because we had nothing to go on but a hunch. Now that 
it looks like there's something to this, something that could be 
big, we can't risk using me. I'm a liability."

"I know you can't break and enter, can't seem to be trapping the 
bad guys, no spying, no watching through the walls," Lois said 
dismissively. "You've been playing by the rules."

At his look, she shrugged. "Well...mostly."

"But if anyone gets wind that I'm the other reporter on this, 
whatever we get, Lois, whatever we dig up will be put under the 
microscope. You put our by-line in the paper and some lawyers in 
this town will be begging to represent the accused."

"You sure you need to step back, Kent?" James seemed much more 
comfortable now that they had gotten down to logistics. "Because 
there are ways around this. Mayor White could help us out. Talk 
to a judge, or I could get someone in Legal to-

"No!" he and Lois spoke as one. 

"Nobody knows anything and that's the way we'd like to keep it," 
Lois stated.

"The more people we bring in, the more-" Clark said at the same 
time.

"Leaks. I get it," James sighed, leaned back in his chair. 
"Rookie mistake, guys. Perry wouldn't have done that. I'm 
striking out all over the place tonight."

"Perry has a bit more...life experience than you," Lois offered, 
her gentleness a surprise. As angry as she'd been, she seemed to 
have forgiven James fairly quickly. Clark guessed that 
was...good.

 "But I think your initial point was really excellent, James." 
She turned towards Clark. "There are ways around this."

She said it with such assurance; he felt a moment's panic. 

"A pen name," she continued. "Simple as that. You and I work 
together on this, but you stay behind the scenes. Anything that 
gets written up goes under our shared by-line, Lane and- we'll 
think of something. I'll do any interviews, leg work that gets 
done in public..."

"No one else outside of this room has to know." James picked up 
her train of thought. "That frees you up. Anyone starts asking 
about the new hire- you know- we just...tap dance, a little. Say 
we want our investigative reporters to be faceless."

"A secret identity," Clark said slowly.

"Exactly!" Lois beamed. "So, who are you? What's your dream name? 
Your fantasy name? Your If-I-Were-Famous-name?"

He grinned at her. "You mean, more famous that I currently am, 
Lois? Gee, is that even possible?"

"Come on," she prompted. "You must have considered it, as a kid, 
maybe, looking to live a different life-"

She stopped at once. He hadn't been quick enough to cover the 
pain, then. Or she had just been quicker.

 A different life. After his parents died, he'd thought about it 
all the time...

 Lois's eyes stayed on him, full of silent apology. It rattled 
him a bit. That she would know, that she would see... 

"Reds Fielding," James said dreamily, cutting through the tension 
unaware. "My famous baseball player name. 'Now batting-Reds 
Fielding!'"

"Jonathan," he said softly, his eyes on hers. "Jonathan Hudson." 
His dad's name. His mother's family name. A name he had toyed 
with adopting, after the name Clark Kent had become synonymous 
with Superman. Along with the brief idea of moving to a remote 
country, changing his appearance, reestablishing a private life, 
telling no one... 

But Lana, of course. She'd come too.

It hadn't worked that way. He'd never moved on that. Hadn't even 
tried.  But this...a pen name. The chance to write real stories, 
to be...anonymous. Unknown. Dear God, what could he want more?

 His eyes returned to Lois's dancing ones. She knew. She knew 
what she had just given him. The thin sheen of tears she blinked 
to hide told him so. But if he took this, agreed to this, where 
did it stop? He wasn't really Jonathan Hudson. That would just be 
a name in the paper, most people wouldn't even bother to read it. 

But if he took this, for him, would he want...more?

No. He drew his eyes off hers. No. He had his work as Superman, 
which he wouldn't trade. And he had...his wife. And now this. 
This was better than he'd ever imagined or hoped. And it would be 
enough. It would be...perfect.

"Let's do it," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. 

"I feel like we should break a bottle of champagne over you!" 
Lois cried. "Newly christened reporter Jonathan Hudson..."

"Not on my rug," James declared with a grin. "Instead, why 
doesn't the Planet's newest team get to work, Hudson and Lane-"

"A-hem," Lois coughed loudly. 

"Lane and Hudson," Clark said. "Though technically I've been here 
longer...what? I have!"

"Technically, you've been here all of three seconds. And besides, 
if you count the time before I left-"

"To go live in a tree and write romance novels? Yeah, I'm 
thinking that doesn't count, Lane," he retorted with no heat. He 
just got a kick out of it. The way her face...

"I've changed my mind. I want Ralph," she said flatly, though 
there was a twinkle in her eye. "Is it all right if I just pull 
Ralph in on this, James?"

Their boss answered with an elaborate shrug. "You want Ralph 
instead of Hudson? Sorry, Jonathan." He headed to his door. "Good 
thing we didn't use that champagne. I'll just yell for Ralph, 
then? Tell him his ship has come in."

The three of them took a moment to study the object of their 
conversation through the open blinds of James's office. The day 
had just started and the bullpen was filling with co-workers. 
Ralph sat at his desk; feet propped up, jelly-filled doughnut 
dripping down his own shirt, as he steadfastly tried to look down 
the shirt of the female co-worker unfortunate enough to be 
partnered with him.

"Ah. Um," Lois said.

"I think that's fair," Clark volun