24 Hours by Wendy Richards Submitted: December 2005 Rated: PG-13 Author's Note: First, a warning that this is a WHAMmy story. For anyone who would like some information about the nature of the WHAM and an indication of what happens to the 'toys', go here: http://www.lcficmbs.com/cgi- bin/boards/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=1&t=003596#000002 Now that's out of the way, I have many sincere thanks to record here. First, to all the wonderful readers on the Fanfic Message Boards (www.lcficmbs.com) who posted such fantastic, ego-boosting and encouraging comments while this story was being posted. I can't remember ever getting such amazing feedback before and I am so very humbled and grateful. To all of you - you know who you are - you have my deepest gratitude and appreciation. Huge thanks also to my fellow IRC word-count duellers. Finishing- WIPs Month turned out to be a great success, and I know that I'd have had a lot more trouble finishing this story as quickly as I wanted to had you not been on IRC night after night swapping word-counts with me. Any time I was tempted to go off and play a game, the mere thought that Pam might overtake me on words written kept me going. ;) Pam and Sara are also owed an enormous debt of gratitude for allowing me to paste sections from the latter parts of the story whenever I wanted an instant reaction to be sure that it was at least passable. I couldn't have done without you guys. To my wonderful beta-readers, who were much put-upon when I finally decided to finish this story and I started inundating you with sections at very swift intervals: Kaethel, Yvonne, David, you have been so very helpful, encouraging and invaluable. From errors you caught to ideas you suggested and lines you pointed out as working: I couldn't have done this without you, and I couldn't ask for better BRs. My thanks also to Sherry, my Archive GE, for her consistently friendly and thorough editing, as well as my amazed admiration for how fast she managed to work her way through this monster! And finally, but far from least, I could never have written this story without the help of one person: FoLCdom's very own Dr Klein. Jill, you've been extremely generous with your time and advice, answering idiotic questions from me time and again, reading drafts of the story to tell me whether the medical details were at least partially plausible, and helping me to come up with alternatives where I needed to change things. Thank you so very much indeed. Naturally, all errors and inconsistencies remain mine! All rights to the characters belong to DC Comics and Warner Bros; no infringement of copyright is intended by their use in this work of fiction, from which no profit is or will be obtained. ~ 24 Hours ~ There was someone in her apartment. Lois sat up in bed, her heart thumping. The digital clock by her bedside said 3:15 - far too early for any neighbours to be up and about. Rolling onto her side, she groped in her nightstand drawer for the baseball bat she'd kept there ever since the fake Mr Trezewski had tried to kill her. Gripping it in one hand, she fumbled for the phone with the other. In her haste, she was clumsy and it fell off the top of the nightstand with a clatter. She held her breath. If the intruder had heard... But she didn't hear any footsteps. Had she just imagined that there was someone? Maybe she'd just dreamed it... No. There'd been the distinct sound of a door closing. And then a thud which she was sure was someone knocking against furniture. And had there been something else? A muffled curse, maybe? No, she hadn't imagined it. All of her instincts were telling her that she was right. And then, as if she needed confirmation, she heard a footfall outside her door. There'd been a series of rapes in this part of the city in the last few months. In the dead of night, the rapist had broken into the homes of women living alone and overpowered them. The attacker was vicious - he'd left every one of his victims battered and bleeding, some with broken bones and internal injuries. And, so far, no-one had got a good enough look at him to be able to identify him. "Oh, god. Oh god," she muttered under her breath. "Okay. I can handle this." She climbed out of bed and started to pull on her robe. If the intruder came into her bedroom, she could hide behind the door and catch him unawares. All she needed was to get in one good blow with the bat and he'd be out of commission. Serve him right for thinking he could take on Lois Lane! The door opened. Lois swung the bat over her shoulder, preparing to launch the strike. And then something made her cough. The smell, the vapour, was everywhere. She couldn't get away from it. It was up her nostrils, in her mouth, making her cough, making her choke... She couldn't breathe. Gas. Some sort of poison gas. Lois tried to hold her breath, but the damp mist was too overpowering. She slumped to the floor, eyes blurry, unable to move. Coughs racked her body. Her chest felt as if someone had stamped on it and fire burned her throat. A figure loomed menacingly over her. Terrified, she tried to shrink away. She was going to be raped! She needed... to... ...fight... ...attack... Focus! Her limbs had turned to jelly. She was seeing double - the blurry face morphed and swam into a cartoon image. And then he spoke. His voice came from a long way away, echoing down a tunnel. Slow, distorted. "You've been a menace to society long enough, Lois Lane. No more. You're going to die. But I'm not going to kill you yet." Hands were groping her arm, but she couldn't move, couldn't resist. Her sluggish limbs refused to obey any commands. Was he... going to rape her? A faint pinprick grazed her arm. "No, you're going to spend the next day knowing that you've got only twenty-four hours to live. Better make up your mind quick how you want to spend your last day, reporter bitch - this time tomorrow it'll be too late." A cartoonish laugh sounded. The face, far too fuzzy to see properly, swam before her. And then it was gone. In the distance, a sound echoed... a door slamming? "Wha-? Huh?" Groggy and stiff, Lois tried to roll over but another coughing fit hit her. Her muscles screamed in painful protest, but she forced herself to stop coughing. Think! Had it really happened? Or just a nightmare? But... hard surface below her. On the floor. Aching all over. Throat burning. Someone *was* here! Help. The phone. Had to... get... to the phone. Dragging herself onto elbows and knees, she crawled drunkenly across the room and groped on the floor for the telephone. Instinct rather than deliberation found the number she needed. It rang. " 'lo?" " 'lar... Help... need hel..." "Lois? Is that you?" "-elp me..." The phone slipped from her hand and everything went black. *********** "Lois? *Lois!*" His heart beating at about six times its normal pace, Clark leapt out of bed, dropping the receiver as he reached for his clothes. The brief exchange kept replaying in his head. Her indistinct voice had asked him for help, and then there'd been a muffled thud, followed by silence. Lois was in danger. She needed him. Clark or Superman? The distinction didn't matter tonight. He was going by the fastest route possible. Clark flew to the balcony and up into the night sky. The journey took seconds, yet there was time for dozens of horrifying images to pass through his mind. Was Lois being attacked? Had she just managed to grab for the phone, but been caught by the intruder? Had he hurt her? Killed her? That rapist had never been caught. And hadn't Lois mentioned just the other day that she'd got another threatening letter? How many criminals had she put away who wanted to have her killed? He had to get there in time. Lois couldn't die... Her window was locked. He scanned the apartment, and his heart skipped several beats as he located her lying sprawled on the floor of her bedroom, a baseball bat close to one hand and the telephone receiver clutched in the other. Was she...? No! She couldn't be... He couldn't bear it if... The painful pressure on his chest only began to ease once he focused and heard her breathing. It was shallow and uneven, but she was definitely alive. He breathed again, but it came out as a choke. He took a split second to look quickly around. The front door of her apartment was shut, but some furniture in the living-room looked out of place. Unless she'd been wandering around herself in the night and knocked it over, someone had definitely been in there. He crashed through the glass and in less than a second was crouched on the floor beside his partner. "Lois? Lois, can you hear me?" She moaned and her eyelids flickered, but she didn't answer. He caught at her hand and was about to speak again, but he became aware of an intrusive smell in the room. Straightening, he sniffed. It was a gas of some kind, he was sure of it. Had whoever had been here used it on her? For what purpose? A sick feeling churning in his stomach, he made himself skim his gaze over Lois's body. The nightdress she was wearing was bunched around her hips and her robe lay dishevelled around her shoulders. His gut clenched sickeningly. Had she...? Oh, god - that sick bastard still hadn't been caught... Relief slammed into him as he noticed her underwear still in place. Rape seemed unlikely. But still, what had happened to her? What had the intruder, whoever he was, done? He bent closer to her again, squeezing her hand. She didn't respond. "Lois? It's Clark. Can you wake up and talk to me? What happened?" "...lar..." she mumbled. He sighed again in relief. She wasn't completely unconscious. Whatever the gas was, it had mostly knocked her out, but it wasn't as if she was sinking into a coma or dying or anything. Was it? But then, he wasn't a doctor. He didn't know that! He had to get her to the emergency room. They'd be there in seconds - all he had to do was pick her up and fly straight out of the window. She needed to be examined. Even though he could see that she wasn't badly hurt, her breathing was irregular and he just knew that vapour had to have had harmed her in some way. At the very least, she was doped. At worst, it could be poisoning her... He sniffed again, this time making himself calm down enough to concentrate. After all, he wasn't an idiot when it came to chemistry, and it would help if he could tell the ER doctor what he thought was in the vapour. No, on reflection there didn't seem to be anything poisonous. It smelt vaguely sweet... He'd smelt it before. In a medical environment, maybe... Ether! It was ether, he was sure of it. Ether. It would knock her out, but it had no lasting effects. It wasn't poisonous. Relief hit him once again. In the act of scooping Lois into his arms, he paused. If the vapour wasn't harmful, then getting Lois to hospital wasn't as urgent. And this was a crime scene. A couple of police officers had recently told Superman pointedly that things had to be done properly at crime scenes, otherwise evidence was lost or destroyed. He didn't just want Lois safe and well. He wanted her attacker arrested and convicted. Forcing himself to remain composed despite the cold fear running through him, Clark disentangled the phone from Lois's limp fingers and, resetting the connection, dialled 911. Very soon, he'd been reassured that an ambulance and the police were on their way. All he had to do was wait. Wait. With Lois unconscious, maybe hurt. How was he supposed to do that? That vapour still smelt pretty strong. Obviously, as long as she was in the room with it, she'd stay unconscious. Instinctively, he inhaled deeply, sucking it all into his lungs; at Super-speed, he moved to the broken window and exhaled. There. Gone. It couldn't do her any more harm. And there was still a trace of the odour in the air, so the police would be able to detect it. He'd just tell them that he did as much as he could to ventilate the room because the smell was cloying. And then he dropped down beside Lois to wait for the ambulance. Waiting wasn't something Clark was used to. Not with his abilities - with super-speed and the power of flight. And certainly never when it was someone he cared about who needed help. Someone he *loved*. Someone who was sick and in pain and who whimpered whenever he spoke to her. Waiting was crazy. He could have her at the hospital in seconds. All he had to do was scoop her up... ...and potentially destroy the crime scene, wrecking any chance of having the bastard who'd done this to her caught and proved guilty. It was the act of moments to scan her body for injuries. No broken bones. Not even any sign of trauma to the skin. She was just barely conscious - probably the effect of the gas. Well, at least that was gone now. He stroked her face gently, brushing her hair aside as he caressed her. She moaned once more, and a knife cut through him at the sound. Lois was hurting and all he was doing was sitting beside her. So much for Superman - he was useless! Where was the ambulance? Torn between running down to the street to look for it and staying by Lois, he gazed at her again. She looked so fragile lying there, her face pale, her eyes shut. Still, unmoving, ghostly white... almost as if she were dead. No! She wasn't dead. He couldn't start imagining things like that. She was going to be fine. As soon as the ambulance came and they got her to the hospital, she'd have that nasty stuff washed out of her system and she'd be fine. She'd wake up and tell him what had happened to scare her - who had been in her apartment - and they'd find whoever it was and what he'd wanted. And until then Superman would keep watch over her. Or she could stay with him until they were sure that she was safe. Everything would be all right again. At last! The whine of sirens penetrated his misery. Help was here. Lois would be in good hands very soon. And everything was going to be all right. ********** The minute hand on the wall clock jumped forward another notch. That made 99 since he'd taken up vigil in this hard moulded- plastic chair. It now declared the time to be 5:37. One more minute for the round century. What was going on in there? Lois had been in the ER for over an hour and a half now, and he didn't have a clue how she was or what was happening. No-one had come to talk to him. Maybe they'd even forgotten that he was there. Though twice he'd gone to ask the duty nurse on the desk for news, and he'd been instructed to wait until someone sent for him. He had no idea how Lois was. She could be sick. She could be unconscious. She could be in a coma. She could even be dead, for all he knew. He slid his glasses down his nose again and looked through the wall, trying to find her cubicle. But once more it was useless. There was too much blocking his view, including pieces of lead belonging to X-ray apparatus. She was somewhere in there, but no matter how hard he looked he couldn't make out which cubicle was hers. His super-hearing was no good either. There was just too much going on. He'd tried several times to focus on Lois's name, but he hadn't heard 'Lois' or 'Ms Lane' mentioned once. None of the conversations he'd eavesdropped on sounded like they concerned her, either. All he could do was wait. Again. Wait. Did the staff have even the faintest idea how agonising it was just to be told to wait for news? Did they know what sort of things were going through his mind as he watched the clock ticking away the minutes? Did they know that every tick represented a minute of Lois's life which could be ebbing away even as he sat here, useless? Did they know the images flashing before his eyes, of Lois on a trolley, not breathing, being worked over with a defibrillator? Lois, barely conscious, fighting for her life, calling his name, needing him with her and thinking that he didn't care because he wasn't there? Because he was stuck outside on this *damned* uncomfortable chair, watching a clock slowly count the minutes and the hours while he was just told to *wait*? She'd looked so pitiful. So sick. She'd been unconscious again when the paramedics had got to her, and they'd put a mask over her face, hooking her up to breathing apparatus. In the ambulance, he'd held her hand and talked to her through the fifteen-minute journey to the ER, but she hadn't responded. Hadn't even gripped his hand. She hadn't known he was there. He should have flown her to the hospital himself. Stupid to be so concerned about preserving a crime scene when Lois could be dying! The ambulance had arrived before the police anyway, so she'd been wheeled out before any evidence-taking could be done. Typically, the boys in blue had arrived just as Clark was about to climb into the ambulance. Faced with a choice between staying with Lois and taking the cops up to her apartment, he'd just told them briefly what he'd found and where they should go, and then left them to it. For all the good it had done him. After he'd given her details to the receptionist, he'd been left here to endure this living nightmare alone. And to blame himself for what he hadn't done. ********** "Mr Kent?" Finally! Clark was on his feet instantly and facing the grey- haired, white-coated man heading towards him. "Yes. How is Lois?" His impatient question was ignored. "I'm Dr Sutton. Do you know how to contact Ms Lane's family, Mr Kent?" He had to think about that for a moment. He'd never met Lois's mother, though he had a vague idea that she was a nurse... or maybe she'd been a nurse years ago. He couldn't remember. But he had met Sam Lane, of course. The man wouldn't be working for the same research unit any more, but a sports scientist of his fame couldn't be hard to find. Anyway, Perry would surely know. "I should be able to do that. But..." His heart skipped yet another beat as the probable reason for the question struck him. "Is Lois going to be all right?" He almost shouted the question. "Well, we can't really say that with any certainty right now." No! He stared at the doctor, almost staggering with the shock. This had to be a bad dream. He had to wake up. It wasn't just that the man had suggested Lois might be very sick. It was the calm, collected way in which he'd said it. As if he was telling Clark where the coffee-machine was. "But it would be as well if her close friends could be ready to contact her next-of-kin. It's not the kind of phone call that Ms Lane herself should have to make." The nightmare was getting more horrifying by the second. Feeling as if any ability he had to take control of the situation had slipped way beyond his reach, Clark said, "Dr Sutton, will you *please* tell me what's wrong with Lois?" "Yes, of course." As if he hadn't been keeping Clark on tenterhooks through the entire conversation, the doctor continued. "Ms Lane asked me to tell you for her. She tells us that you're her closest friend, is that right?" Clark nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "When she was brought in, she was very close to unconsciousness. It took some time for her to regain consciousness and to be well enough to talk to us. In the meantime, of course, we did all we could, including taking X-rays and blood samples. I believe that you thought she might have inhaled ether?" "That, or something like it." "Yes, it was. At any rate, it made her woozy initially - which was undoubtedly its purpose - and then, as she remained in the room where it had been, the progressive inhalation of the vapour rendered her unconscious. We initially treated that, and it was some time before Ms Lane was able to tell us exactly what happened." Another nail in his coffin. Clark tried to force back the lump in his throat. It was all his fault. He should have gone with the initial instinct to have Superman fly her here. Of *course* leaving her in the room where the gas was had been bad for her! Though he'd done his best to alleviate that. He'd got rid of it very quickly after arriving. She'd been breathing cleaner air almost as quickly as if he had flown her here himself. The doctor was still speaking; Clark tried to push aside his self-castigation and listen. "When she was able, she told us what had happened. It seems that an intruder got into her apartment and released the vapour, but - as she's now told the police - his purpose was apparently not to steal anything. Once the ether made her too helpless to resist, he injected her with something. As yet we have no idea what it is, but there is no doubt that something has entered her bloodstream. It's entirely possible that it's some sort of poison, as Ms Lane claims." "Wait a minute... *injected* her?" None of this made sense. Why would someone inject Lois with anything? If someone wanted to harm her, why not just kill her? Unless... unless they wanted her to suffer before she died. Clark swallowed as dozens of possibilities swam in his brain. AIDS. Anthrax. Cancerous blood-cells. Smallpox. Any number of incurable, debilitating, painful viruses. Any number of illness which could kill her. "Yes. Apparently the man told her that she was going to die. I've asked for a number of tests to be conducted on samples of Ms Lane's blood, but without having any idea of what was in the hypodermic we haven't a clue what we're looking at. All we have to go on is what Ms Lane told us her attacker said. The timing's highly unlikely to be that accurate if it's true, but according to Ms Lane he told her that she has twenty-four hours to live." ********** After all the bustle around her, the questions and the endless probing and examination, it was a relief to be left alone for a few minutes. Blessed solitude. Cursed solitude. Now that she was alone, it was all sinking in. She was going to die. In fact, she was probably already dying. The doctors had confirmed that there seemed to be something affecting her reactions. Something they couldn't yet identify. Something eating away at her. Killing her. She'd thought it was all a bad dream. When she'd come to, she'd been shocked to find herself in the emergency room, surrounded by machines and people in uniform. Even then, she'd told herself that the intruder, the injection, the cartoon-villainish laugh and the dire threat had all been a nightmare. Not real. Not actually happening to her. Then the doctor had asked her what she remembered. And the looks on the faces of the staff around her bed had revealed the truth even before anyone had said it. The work they'd done while she'd been unconscious had pointed to the presence of something faint, as yet unidentifiable, something which shouldn't be there - and they'd found an injection site. It was inflamed and sore now, painful physical proof, if she needed it, that it was all real. Yet it still felt like a dream, including the fact that she'd called Clark. She must have phoned him; a nurse had told her that the ambulance had been called by a Mr Kent, who was also waiting outside for her. Clark had travelled to the hospital with her in the ambulance; had been visibly distressed by what had happened to her, a paramedic had told the nurse. Clark. Lois choked back a sob. At least she wasn't alone here. Someone was nearby; someone who cared about her. Someone who'd be upset if she died - at least, she thought so. Or would Clark, like everyone else, just get on with his life as if she'd never existed? She didn't want to die! Even though she'd been in more risky situations than she could remember, had so many close shaves that the Planet's insurance company had revised its premium for her life-insurance at least four times in the past year, dying wasn't in her plans for quite some time yet. She had so much to live for - so much she wanted to achieve in her life. And she was only 27! That was far too young to die. There were many more headlines to get, more Kerths to win, a Pulitzer to win. And... and twenty- four hours was far too little time to come to terms with dying. A tear splashed onto the hospital gown she was wearing. Angry, fighting against bitterness, Lois snatched a Kleenex from a nearby box and scrubbed her eyes. She wasn't going to cry. She wouldn't give her unknown assailant the satisfaction. And anyway, she was unlikely to be left alone for much longer, and she didn't want anyone to see Lois Lane in tears. No. She had to get past this pointless wallowing and focus on what needed to be done. She didn't want to die; ergo, she had to find a way to live. Clark would help her. It was fortunate that he was here - that way they could get started immediately. They had lots of resources at their disposal, didn't they? All the records of the Planet, plus she had contacts in the police department. And powerful friends. Even Superman would help. Of course he would. Wouldn't he? They'd beat this. There was no way that she was giving up yet. She wasn't going to concede defeat until the very last second of the twenty-four hours had ticked away. A clock on the wall told her that it was after 6am. Three precious hours of this last day of her life had already gone. Wasted, frittered away; first, while she was unconscious and then later while doctors and the police delayed endlessly over questions and tests. She needed Clark. He should be here any minute. She'd asked the doctor to tell him what was going on. The thought of telling him herself was just too horrible... She couldn't face it. He'd be shocked. He'd be upset for her, and angry, and probably distressed - that was Clark all over. He cared about people, and he thought of her as a friend. As she thought of him, too. She'd been unfair to him, wondering if he'd forget her and get on with his life. Clark *did* care about her. The way he behaved with her on a daily basis showed her that. Protective. Even affectionate, when she let him. He'd saved her life a couple of times, too, and each time he'd seemed upset by what had almost happened. This was going to affect him deeply. Which was why she couldn't tell him herself. She had to remain composed and rational about this whole situation. If she allowed herself to get emotional, then she might as well resign herself to dying here and now. No emotions. No wallowing in the horror of it all - not with anyone. She had to treat this as just another investigation. ********** "She's *what*?" No. He wasn't hearing this. It wasn't happening. This was just a nightmare. Any moment now he'd wake up and he'd laugh at himself for being so scared. Lois wasn't dying. "Mr Kent, I'm sorry to have to give you this bad news. If what her attacker claims is true, Ms Lane could be dying. As I said, she has been injected with some sort of poison or compound which we can already see is having a destructive effect - " "But poisons have antidotes!" Clark thrust out his hand in protest, pain as agonising as if it were physical stabbing through his gut. "You must be able to do something!" What was the guy talking about? Why weren't they working on a cure? What use was centuries of medical science if someone could break into Lois's apartment and give her a poison which took as long as *24 hours* to act, and these doctors didn't have a clue what to do about it? He wanted to see Lois. Needed to be with her. He had to see her, to reassure himself that she was still alive, at least for now. He had to talk to her, to see if they could find some way through this scene from a horror movie. They were a team. They always got through the bad stuff together. He'd find out as much as he could here, and then demand to see her. "To find an antidote, we would need to know exactly what she was injected with. We don't know yet what the agent is, whether it's chemical or biological or a combination of several different things. And without that information it may not be possible to find an antidote. If an antidote actually exists." Not possible? It *had* to be possible! Clark ran his hands through already-rumpled hair, his brain working furiously. There had to be a cure. There had to be a way of finding the composition of the poison. "You said it's already having an effect on her." He heard the ragged, choked sound of his own voice and took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. "Yes. We've been running tests every fifteen minutes or so - vision, hearing, the operation of other motor functions. Sensation. Reaction to stimulation. Already, we're noticing a very faint change." "Change?" Clark jumped on the statement. "What sort of change?" "Nothing that would be noticeable if we hadn't been running repeated tests. A little slowness in response. Ms Lane blinks, as if she has to focus her vision. The neural activity may be experiencing a slight impediment - " "But what does that *mean*? What's happening to her?" "Whatever this agent is, it seems to be affecting her central nervous system. Do you know what the nervous system does, Mr Kent?" He should. Normally, he would. Today, everything seemed to be filtering through some sort of fuzzy cloud. Nothing was clear. He couldn't remember... "Uh... vaguely..." "It controls virtually everything the body does. Sight. Hearing. Balance. Speech. Respiration. The ability to feel things. Other motor functions - use of the limbs, for example. Brain functions. Memory, the processing of information." Clark swallowed. "So if this is affecting her nervous system..." "She could progressively lose the use of these functions. She could become blind, for example. Or paralysed. Or - " Respiration. The word the doctor had used jumped out at him. "She could stop breathing?" "Yes, potentially, depending on what was used. And, if we assume that this person knows what he's doing, that may well be what we're looking at." *Damn!* His fists clenched at his sides. "You have to figure out what this stuff is!" "Believe me, we're trying. I've already ordered a battery of tests and the lab should be working on them as we speak. The problem is, Mr Kent, as I already explained, that without knowing what general class of agent this is we're working in the dark." Incompetents. They were incompetents. They hadn't a clue what they were doing. And Lois's life was in the hands of these people? God. He straightened, fixing Dr Sutton with a hard stare. "Who's the best poisons person in the world?" Sutton hesitated. "I'm not sure..." "But you could find out." "Even if I did, it wouldn't make any difference. He'd need hours to work on this! Unless he was within a couple of hundred miles from here, there wouldn't be enough time, even assuming he'd be able to find a solution anyway." "Distance isn't a problem." Clark spoke abruptly. "I - Lois and I know Superman. He could have the poisons expert here in minutes." The doctor looked taken aback. "Well, I suppose we could... But the problem is, Mr Kent, that there just isn't enough to go on at the moment. We've taken blood samples, of course, but we have to try to isolate the compound and figure out what it is. That takes time. And then we have to run tests to see whether our guess is correct. And the labs are busy as it is... If we could have got a sample from the injection site within the first minute or two after she'd been given the shot, we might have had a better chance because we could have analysed the substance, but as it is..." He shrugged, a fatalistic expression on his face. "It's going to take a lot longer to get a fix on what it is. There's no guarantee we can do it in time, assuming whatever she's been given is indeed fatal. Her best chance is if the police can find whoever did it and get him to tell us what he used." Clark felt as if he'd been turned to stone. It was his fault. Lois was going to die, and he could have saved her. He could have got her to the ER within seconds of finding her. But he'd waited for the ambulance. He'd as good as killed her. "Anyway, Ms Lane wants to see you now." "Huh?" Clark stared at the doctor. "Ms Lane asked to see you. She asked me to tell you what's going on, and then she wanted me to send you in." Sutton sounded as if he were struggling to be patient. He couldn't do it. How could he possibly face Lois knowing that his action - his *in*action - was responsible for killing her? But how could he not? She was dying. She'd asked to see him. She wanted him. Of course he had to go to her, even if the guilt was already eating him up inside, screaming at him, telling him that he didn't deserve to have a friend like Lois. He didn't deserve to get to spend one more minute with her. He pulled himself up short. Guilt wasn't an emotion he could afford to indulge in. Not now. Not when Lois needed him - and not when they had such a limited time to save her life. Because he was *not* going to let her die. Not if it was the last thing he did... Woodenly, like an automaton, he turned towards the door. His feet moved forward, but it seemed as if it were someone else, not he, who was walking into the ER. Someone else was searching the busy room anxiously, looking for Lois. Someone else was being steered towards a cubicle over to the side, pushing back a curtain... And there she was, sitting on a gurney, dressed only in a hospital gown. Her hair was still rumpled and her face was pale, but she was as beautiful as ever. And a lump in Clark's throat almost prevented him from speaking. "Hi, Clark." Her tone was amazingly matter-of-fact for a woman who'd just been given a death sentence. "Lois..." That was someone else's voice, surely? He never sounded that hoarse, as if he were crying... "Clark, for god's sake, pull yourself together!" she snapped. "Don't you know that's the last thing I need right now?" "Sorry." He should have known, of course. The last thing Lois ever wanted was sympathy - there was no reason to expect that, even facing a death sentence, she'd change in any way. "How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do for you?" "You're doing it again!" She gave him an impatient glare. "Fussing. Treating me like an invalid! Look," she added, her tone less irritated, "I'm not dead yet. And I don't intend to be. So the question is: are you going to help me or not?" "Do you have to ask?" He stared at her in disbelief. "Lois, you know I'd do anything to help you. What do you need?" "We treat this like any other story." She slid down from the examination table and stood facing him. "Get the facts, investigate, get the evidence, deduce, find the solution." And write the story, Clark finished automatically, silently; only this time the story was far from being important. Lois was treating her own soon-to-be murder as just another case. The thought made him recoil; and yet, knowing his partner, it made sense. She was trying to detach herself, to remain dispassionate. And she was right: it was the only way to think clearly. Though thinking clearly had never seemed less possible. After all, if they didn't find the antidote he'd be writing the story alone. Without his partner. Without Lois. But that was precisely the sort of thinking that would stop them doing what needed to be done. Lois was right. He needed to stay calm. Stop thinking about the consequences if they didn't find the antidote. Focus on solving the crime and putting things right. That, after all, was what Lois was doing. Yet surely this one time she could leave the detachment and the investigation to others? The police, the doctors, *him* - and Superman? "Lois, I'll do all of that - as much as I can. You know that. But you... you have to stay here, surely?" "Not a chance." She spoke flatly. "I've already spoken to Dr Sutton. Looks to me like there's absolutely nothing they have to do that they need me here for. They've taken all the samples we need. I don't have to be here." "But... the poison, the - whatever it is - it's attacking your central nervous system. It's making you sick and you won't be able to function." Useless to protest, and yet he had to. "Right now I feel fine. And as long as I stay that way *no-one's* going to stop me from doing anything I want to do." She glared at him, but then her expression changed and Clark almost thought he saw a tear forming. She blinked and it was gone. "Clark, this could be the last day of my life! You think I'm not going to go down fighting? Oh, sure, the doctors say they'll *try* to come up with something. But I didn't see an awful lot of assurance on anyone's face. They think I'm a goner. And I don't see anyone else rushing in with a miracle cure. The only person who's going to get me out of this alive is *me*. So, are you going to help me or not?" "Lois, you know you don't have to ask. I'm all yours. Just tell me where you want to start." "Get me out of here. Take me home. Where are my clothes?" "Uh..." As he hesitated, she stared at him. "My clothes, Clark! It's not that hard a question, surely?" "Ah. Well... I don't think you have any here. Other than what you were wearing." "You mean you didn't -? Clark! What am I supposed to wear out of this place?" "Sorry." He hadn't thought about that - hadn't thought of anything except getting Lois into the hands of doctors as soon as he could. Well, not as soon as he could. As soon as an ambulance had arrived. God, why hadn't he just flown her here? "Look, I'll call a cab," he offered. "And -" He stripped off the sweater he'd pulled on so hurriedly earlier. "Put this on." At least it would cover the open-backed hospital gown. "I guess it's better than the alternative," Lois muttered, taking it from him. The curtain was pushed aside suddenly. "Ms Lane! What are you doing?" "Leaving," she announced bluntly. "But we haven't finished... there are tests..." Lois slid to her feet, the belligerent expression on her face one Clark was familiar with. "Is there or is there not anything you can do for me right now that'll save my life?" "Well... no." "And do you have all the blood samples you need?" "For now, yes." The doctor looked distinctly uncomfortable, shuffling his feet and adjusting his black-framed spectacles. "Then you don't need me. For now." Lois looked at her watch. "I have about 21 hours, right? Then I'll come back here in 20 hours' time, unless I've found the antidote sooner." "Found the antidote -? What are you talking about? You're not medically qualified!" "No, but my partner and I are investigative reporters," Lois said, clearly losing her patience. "You do your stuff with the samples. We'll do our job by trying to find out who did this to me and getting them to give us the antidote. And one way or another I'll be back. But the last thing I'm doing is spending what could be the last day of my life twiddling my thumbs in a hospital bed!" The doctor looked even more discomfited than he'd been when he'd been talking to Clark. "I can understand that, Ms Lane. But you should know that you don't necessarily have 21 hours." "I don't?" Lois stared at him. "But you said you thought the bastard who attacked me was right?" "Yes, that whatever he injected you with seems to have a progressive rather than an immediate effect. But, as we explained, this compound - whatever it is - seems to be attacking the central nervous system. You're going to start noticing some more severe symptoms within a few hours - sweatiness, dizzy spells, some loss of motor function..." At Lois's puzzled look, he explained. "If my guess is right, you'll find that your limbs don't do what you ask them to do. You'll try to pick something up and you'll drop it. Your legs might suddenly be unsteady. Your vision will blur. Your memory might start to be erratic. Brain functioning won't be as rapid or accurate as it should be. You could have any combination of these symptoms, depending on what you've been injected with. And they'll get worse over time - as will the pain. And there'll come a point where the damage to your central nervous system will be irreversible, even if we do identify the poison and give you the appropriate antidote. Because all that will do is prevent the damage getting even worse." By the time Sutton had finished his explanation, Lois was pale, shaking. Clark moved to her side, supporting her with an arm around her waist. She leaned into him, clearly needing his presence. He asked the question he suspected that she wanted to. "What sort of irreversible damage?" The doctor shrugged. "Permanent loss of limb function, possibly paralysis, loss of one or more senses, serious brain damage. The later the antidote is administered, the worse the prognosis." "I could end up a vegetable, you mean." Lois's tone was bitter, and Clark couldn't blame her. "I wouldn't use that term..." The doctor was clearly hedging. "But that's what it amounts to." Lois pulled away from Clark, her face still ghostly pale. "Get that taxi. Standing around here isn't going to help." "Wait." The doctor held up his hand. "There are a few more things you need to understand, if you're insisting on leaving here. I will reiterate that the 24-hour timetable is, at best, a guess - the person who put this together couldn't possibly know how it would react with your metabolism, blood flow and so on. Even if he adjusted for your height and weight, these are only two variables among many." "So what are you saying?" Clark asked as renewed panic started to hit him. "That it could be more than 24 hours? Or less? How much less?" "We just don't know. And this is why we would have preferred to have Ms Lane stay with us. That way we could monitor her progress. That could give us further clues as to exactly what this agent is, and therefore what we need to test for. We will also need to take further blood samples for testing, especially if the initial run of tests fail to identify the substance used. And additionally, it's possible that activity on her part could accelerate the rate of absorption and thereby damage." God, could this get any worse? The more the doctor opened his mouth, the more appalling the prognosis got. Lois was *dying*. Dying. And this time there was nothing - *nothing* - he could do about it. Oh, there'd been close shaves by the dozen in the months he'd known her. In all of those cases he'd had seconds to react, but he'd got there in time. Seconds to be aware that her life was in danger - but then he'd rescued her and all had been well. This was different. She was facing a threat completely unlike any he'd dispatched for her, and he had no idea whether, this time, he could snatch her from the jaws of death. For all of his powers, all of the abilities he'd been gifted with, he was helpless in the face of this threat. And it was obvious just by looking at her that he was helpless to prevent her ignoring the doctor's advice. "That's a chance I'll just have to take. If I stay, then I might as well just give up now," Lois spat bitterly. "I'm leaving here so I can save my own life!" "But these symptoms I've mentioned are important," Dr Sutton said, emphasising his words. "They're a sign that the drug is doing what it was designed to do. And some of them are more dangerous - for example, you could stop breathing. If that happens, then it won't be a question of waiting for the time to be up." ********* By the time she slid into the back of the taxi, Lois was shaking. She was grateful when, after a glance at her, Clark gave the driver her address. He didn't look at her but, after a few moments, reached across and took her hand in his. "We'll find the antidote, Lois," he murmured. "You know we will." Did she? In the hospital, especially in front of that over-pessimistic Dr Sutton, it had been easy to be assertive. To insist that she wasn't going to give in to whatever poison she had inside her. That she had every intention of living out the rest of her life to its fullest. Now, though, reality was biting, and it hurt. She'd been murdered. The only difference was that she was still walking around. A living corpse. There probably weren't many corpses who got the chance to investigate their own murders, all the same. If nothing else, *that* was high on the agenda for today. Who could it have been? Everything about that morning was fuzzy. The man's voice wasn't clear in her mind at all. She *thought* it was a man, but even that could be wrong. Had he been tall? Short? Stocky? Thin? Young? Old? All she could remember was a Daffy Duck-like voice and a threat. <...you're going to die...> And the warning - or was it a promise? <... you've got only twenty-four hours to live...> "Twenty-four hours," she echoed. Her throat closed up and her stomach roiled. Clark's fingers tightened around hers. "Don't, Lois." "Less," she added. The doctor had made all the scenarios painfully clear. "If we don't find the antidote soon enough, the poison will be irreversible before my time's up, Clark!" "Lois." He was trying to be calming, but she heard the panic in his own voice. "Lois, I *won't* let that happen. I swear it!" "How are you going to stop it, Clark?" Her voice was growing wilder. She heard it and wanted to calm herself, but felt overpowered by looming dread. "*We*, Lois. *We're* going to stop it. You and me together." She wanted to ask him again, but she was fighting a losing battle with control. Mere hours to find the antidote. Or the exact composition of the poison so that an antidote could be created. If not, she died. If they found the antidote, but not soon enough, she could be permanently paralysed. Or blind. Or deaf. Or a vegetable. Dying would be preferable. Dying. She didn't want to die. Not now. Not yet. She had so much that she wanted to achieve! So many things she'd never experienced. Kerths to win. Pulitzers. World-shattering events to see, to analyse, to write about. Places she wanted to visit - Paris, Tahiti, the Alps, the Great Barrier Reef. Things she wanted to do - go deep-sea diving, learn how to parachute, get better at skiing, fly across the Grand Canyon, drive through Death Valley, see Old Faithful erupt, sip retsina in a real Greek taverna. Kiss a lover in a tropical twilight. A lover. A man who would love her and cherish her and want to be with her. A man she could marry and live the rest of her life with. Someone to belong to. That was never going to happen. Not now. A sob escaped her. And then gentle, strong arms enfolded her, tugged her back against a solid wall of muscle and bone and cradled her. She turned her head, buried her face against Clark's shoulder and clung to him. To the tiny, faint shred of hope that, together, the two of them might yet manage to find a solution. That maybe, just maybe, this might not be the last day of her life. ********* Clark gazed at the woman huddled in his arms, his heart aching for her. Lois never cried. She hardly ever revealed anything even close to fear - in fact, few people who knew her would know that she ever felt it. He knew different. Twice before today, he'd seen her scared. Afraid for her life. In fact, that seemed to be the only time she did show terror. And it was ironic, given the risks she took with her life practically every working day. On his first outing as Superman, he'd found her holding a ticking bomb. In his first week in the role, he'd saved her life at least three times. The difference was, probably, that most of the time her adrenalin level was running too high for her even to be aware of the risk. It was different at a time like this, when the threat was hanging over her like a ticking bomb. Like the time they'd been chained together in the EPRAD warehouse by Antoinette Baines, actually. That time, she'd been so scared that she'd actually confided in him about stuff he'd realised very quickly that she never talked about. Then there'd been the time she'd witnessed a murder and the killer was after her. She'd arrived on his doorstep, out of the blue, visibly upset. He'd known the effort it cost her to ask for his protection, especially after she'd denied time and again that she needed it. Even after he'd already saved her life three times. She'd been on the verge of tears then too. His heart felt as if it was being ripped in two. It was torture, seeing Lois in such pain and knowing that he couldn't take it away for her. He was Superman, and he was helpless. Not completely. He refused to think that way. There were still things they could do. Still ways his powers could be useful. Speed-reading, for one. Plus searching her apartment for clues the police might not find. And super-speed - sorting through documents, getting around, bringing people and things to places they might need to be. And anyway, he had other useful skills. Invaluable skills. He was an investigative reporter. A darned good one, too. Together, he and Lois were pretty damn brilliant. Just a couple of days ago, they'd heard that they'd been nominated in the Meriwether Awards for Journalistic Excellence. If anyone could figure out who was behind this, Lane and Kent could. And, after all, they had an added incentive. Catch the guy who'd done this to Lois, and they'd get the antidote too - or at least find out what was in the hypodermic. Yeah. Lane and Kent would solve this. That was what they were good at. She stirred and pulled away from him. He released her and watched as she stared through the cab windows. It was rush-hour in Metropolis and they'd only covered a couple of miles since leaving the hospital. Her impatience was almost tangible. "What is *taking* so long?" She glared at the driver, who continued to stare straight ahead. Clark touched her arm gently. "Rush-hour, Lois. He'll get us there as soon as he can." It wasn't surprising that she was frustrated. He was, too. Maybe he should have just flown them back. To distract her, he said, "You know, maybe you should call your parents, Lois." Her head whipped around. "I said no, Clark!" He grimaced. "I know, but... well, don't you think it'd be kinder at least to let them know what's going on? I mean, just in case we don't manage - " He hesitated, not wanting to spell out the fact that they could fail. That she could die. "If they only find out at the last minute..." She paled again, then looked away. "Giving up already, Clark? If you're not willing to help me out on this, just say so. I can do it on my own." "Forget that!" He caught her hand again, holding it firmly. "Lois, you don't need me to tell you that I'd do *anything* to fix this. You have my undivided attention for as long as it takes." Not even Superman would take him away from her today. It didn't matter what the problem was; others would just have to handle it without his help. She sighed, and her hand relaxed in his after a moment. "You're right. They do need to know. But... I'm not ready to cope with them yet. You've met my father. I've told you about my mother. She's... high-maintenance, Clark. I just *can't* cope with her right now!" So that was where Lois got it from. He almost smiled at the thought. But he also understood what she was really telling him. Telling her parents was an admission that she could very well die, and she wasn't yet ready to accept that. "Okay." He squeezed her hand lightly. But had she thought...? "Your dad's a doctor, though..." "Sports medicine." Her reply was brief, almost detached. "Mostly orthopaedics. He hasn't done any neurology in years. And I don't think he knows anything about poisons - the only drugs he's interested in are steroids, performance-enhancers and other illegal substances." At his surprised look, she added, "Checking for them. Not prescribing them!" Despite the situation, he couldn't stifle a laugh. The sudden humour seemed to lighten the mood for both of them. Familiar scenery caught his attention then. They'd just turned into Carter Avenue. "We're here." "At last!" He began to fumble in his pocket for his wallet, then stopped. Of course. He'd grabbed whatever was close to hand - jeans and a T- shirt - and flown to the rescue within a second or two of her phone call. His wallet, together with keys, Press ID and the other paraphernalia he usually carried with him, were still on his dresser. There was probably about five bucks in loose change in his pocket. Nowhere enough for the cab fare. He could ask the driver to wait while they went upstairs. Lois would have cash in her purse. No. Better not to bother her with something this trivial. As she climbed out of the cab, he said to the driver, "Charge this to the Daily Planet account, please. Tell them it's Clark Kent, and Perry White authorised it." The Planet had an account with Metro Cabs; he'd sort it out with Perry later. The driver was frowning. Clark dug out the mixture of coins and crumpled bills from his pocket and handed it over. The tip seemed to convince him. "Okay. Kent, you said?" "Yeah." He'd found a small piece of cardboard in his pocket too. His luck was in - it was one of his Planet business cards. "Here. Clark Kent. City desk. Any trouble, you can call me." The driver took it, barely glancing at it before stashing it in his cup-holder, and Clark hurried to exit the cab and join Lois. ********* The police were still in her apartment. God. All she wanted was to take a shower and get dressed and get on with saving her life. Though, of course, if they weren't there she wouldn't have been able to get into her own apartment. She had no keys with her, after all. And, seeing as Clark hadn't even had the sense to take some clothes for her, there was no chance that he'd have thought to grab her keys. Though that wasn't fair. He had come when she'd called him, after all. She'd woken him up - he had to have been tired and not thinking straight. Plus he'd stayed all those hours at the hospital waiting for her. "Ms Lane?" A uniformed officer had noticed her arrival. "Yes." She stepped inside and glanced around the apartment. Everything looked exactly as normal. If it weren't for the grey smears of fingerprint powder on doors and surfaces, she could have once again wondered if she hadn't imagined everything. And then she saw the shattered window, and the shards of glass on the floor. "Yes." The officer obviously saw her looking. "We're pretty sure that's where your intruder got in. And the good news is that we got a few high-quality prints from the frame. If he's got a record, we'll find him." "Ah..." From behind her, Clark was making awkward noises. "Actually, that's how I came in. I broke the window. So if you found prints there, they're probably mine." The officer looked him up and down. "And you are...?" "Clark Kent. I called the police. You must have arrived after we left in the ambulance." "And you broke the window because...?" "Because, when Ms Lane called me and I rushed over here, I couldn't get an answer at the door. So I climbed up the fire- escape and smashed the window." The cop sighed. Turning, he said to his partner, "Forget those prints. They're not our man." Then, returning to Lois, he added, "When you have a chance to look around, let us know if there's anything missing. What doctor treated you at the hospital? We'll need a copy of his report." Lois nodded. "Dr Sutton. Now, if you'll excuse me..." But the cop was already moving away, heading into her bedroom with his partner. Lois gritted her teeth. Didn't they know she needed to get dressed? That she had things to do? Clark brushed past her suddenly, his jaw taut. Then, before she could protest, she heard his voice, cold and angry. "Just where do you guys get off? You think that because she doesn't *look* hurt that he didn't do anything to her? Don't they teach you anything about jumping to conclusions at the police academy?" What had he heard them saying? She'd heard nothing. Clearly, they'd been discussing her. Lois shook her head; it wasn't the first time Clark had heard something from a long way away. He obviously had darned good hearing. It was sweet of him to come to her defence like that. And so typically Clark. What would she have done without him today? Probably decked that patronising doctor and then collapsed in floods of tears. He'd helped to keep her sane - at least, so far. Now, if he'd only get those *morons* out of her apartment! A moment later, the two cops walked past her, on their way to the door. "We're finished for now, Ms Lane," the one she hadn't seen yet said. "Someone from the precinct will be in touch with you later to get a statement from you." Okay. So the police were taking this with the seriousness it deserved, were they? Lois rolled her eyes. She wasn't planning to rely on the Keystone Cops anyway. And she'd already told the police who'd turned up at the ER what had happened. Always assuming that cops actually talked to each other... A hand lightly pressed against her upper back. Clark. "Go on," he said, his tone gentle. "Take a shower. Get dressed. I'll make some calls." Startled that she'd actually needed the reminder that they had things to do, Lois glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Almost eight o'clock. Time was ticking away. Already nearly five hours had passed. Time she couldn't afford to waste. Phone calls. Yes. She nodded. And realised that it didn't even cross her mind to ask Clark who he was calling, or give him instructions. She could trust him to do exactly what needed to be done. Despite what she'd said to him earlier, she had no idea how she would get through the rest of today without Clark. And, if she could have a choice of anyone to have in her corner in this situation, she couldn't think of anyone she'd prefer. ********* Perry was already in his office, of course. He answered the phone on the second ring, sounding distracted. "White." "It's Kent here, Chief. Lois was attacked last night in her apartment..." When he'd managed to interrupt the editor's flow of outraged concern, Clark filled him in on the details, then added, "We need your help, Chief." "Anything. Just name it and consider it done." "Okay. We need a list of any and all threats against Lois since she started at the paper. If someone could prioritise them - seriousness of the threat, why whoever it is has reason to hate her, whether they're in prison or on the street - that'd be even better." "I'll get Jimmy onto that right away. And I can pull some researchers off other projects to help him. Next?" "Ask anyone who has any contacts on the street to get in touch with them. Pull in whatever favours they can. Find out if anyone's heard anything. Anyone boasting about getting rid of a reporter. Or a mysterious drug or poison. Anything even vaguely relevant." "Done. Anything else?" "Not right now. We'll be heading into the Planet soon - Lois will probably have some ideas too." Correction - Lois would *definitely* have ideas of her own. Once she pulled herself together, as she would, she'd be a human dynamo. Explaining that he had more calls to make, Clark ended the conversation, then dialled another number from memory. "Henderson." "It's Clark Kent of the Planet, Inspector. I don't know if you heard that Lois had an intruder in her apartment last night?" "No." He could tell that he had the inspector's full attention. "The rapist? What happened? Is she okay?" Then, before Clark could answer, he continued dryly, "Perhaps I should ask if the perp is okay." "It wasn't the rapist." As succinctly as he could, Clark explained. "And this is credible?" "Yes. The doctor in the ER confirmed that she'd been injected with something, and they were already noticing some effect on her." A low whistle. "God. Twenty-four hours, you said?" "Give or take. And less than that before there's permanent damage." There was a pause. Then, businesslike as ever, the inspector said, "What do you need?" "There were a couple of cops here when we got back. To be honest, Inspector... I don't think they're going to do much. They didn't even ask Lois what had actually happened. They took the name of the ER doctor, but I don't think following it up was a priority." Clark's jaw tightened. What he'd overheard the cops discussing in Lois's bedroom had made him furious. Glory hounds, looking for a good lead on the rapist, and losing interest in the break-in at Lois's place once they decided this wasn't it. "Who were they?" He'd memorised their names. "Halloran and Menendez." A brief pause. "Beat cops. Not even on the vice squad. Someone breaks into a woman's apartment at night and *that's* what Dispatch sends?" There was a sound something like a snort. "Okay, Clark, from what you say I think this counts as attempted homicide. I can pull strings and get assigned the case. Tell Lois I'll be giving her a call at the Planet a little later. She'd better be ready to let me have access to all her current and recent case-notes. Plus I want everything you've got on all threats made against her." "Lois isn't going to like that." Clark felt he had to point that out. "Depends if she likes being dead more." He heard the sound of a pen scratching paper. "Now. Who did she see at the ER?" "Dr Sutton," Clark said. "He'll be able to confirm what I've told you. And she was interviewed by some cops there too, she said." "Right. I'll get someone over there to interview him. And I'll find out who she talked to. I'll get a forensic team over to Lois's apartment as soon as possible, too. *Try* to make sure she doesn't touch anything, okay?" "Well..." Too late for that. She was already using the shower. No - his ears heard movement - she was in the bedroom. "She had to shower and dress." "Well, tell her to touch as little as possible." The tone was resigned; Clark could visualise the inspector rolling his eyes. That was something else he should have thought of. He could have examined the apartment while he was waiting for the ambulance. If there were any clues beyond the obvious signs of disturbance - clues which could help the police identify the jerk who'd done this to Lois - he might have found them. And then the cops could already be working on finding the guy. Seeing Lois lying motionless on the floor seemed to have snuffed every ounce of sense out of him. He really hadn't handled this very well so far. Definitely time to do better - a *lot* better. Henderson was speaking again. "One more thing. What's the chances of an antidote being found to this?" A lead weight was settling on his stomach again. "As of when we left the hospital, not good. Dr Sutton said her best chance was finding the guy who did it and getting the substance, whatever it is, from him." He thought he heard a muffled curse at the other end of the line. But then Henderson's voice came again, as deadpan as ever. "Okay. Well, you better tell Lois she needs to co-operate with us, then." He nodded. Of course, Henderson couldn't see that. "I'll do that." "Later, then." There was a click, and the call was disconnected. Almost automatically, Clark glanced at his watch. 8.20. Already five hours had gone by. Just nineteen until her twenty-four hours ran out. And, realistically, only fifteen or so before any damage was irreversible. It wasn't enough. And yet, for Lois's sake, it had to be. ********** She trembled in the shower. Fumbled with her buttons and fastenings. Her hands shook as she tried to apply her make-up. She was a mess. A quivering wreck. And that wouldn't do. It wasn't going to do. She was going to pull herself together, starting *now*. No-one was going to see Lois Lane scared. Well, no-one other than Clark, and he didn't count. Plus, if that bastard was watching her, which he probably was given the sort of twisted mind he'd need to have to have to come up with this kind of plot - why kill her slowly if he couldn't get pleasure out of watching her suffer - then there was no way on earth that she was going to allow him to see her showing any kind of fear. A tap sounded on her door. "Lois?" "I'm almost ready, Clark!" Involuntarily, she glanced at her watch. Already after twenty past eight. He was right; they needed to hurry. Time was ticking away. "That's not what I came to say. I've just talked to Henderson - he's sending a forensic team over in a while to check this place out. He says touch as little as possible." He'd talked to Henderson? Well, that was sensible. Obviously Clark's opinion of the other two cops had been about as low as hers. But then, she'd heard him castigate them. She ran a brush through her hair once more. "I don't think they'll find anything," she called, walking to the door. "I'm pretty sure the guy was wearing gloves." The instant she opened the door, she saw him. He looked terrible. His hair was dishevelled and he had a day's growth of stubble. The dark T-shirt he wore looked as if he'd slept in it. But then, of course, she'd woken him up in the middle of the night and he'd been waiting for her at the hospital for hours. He hadn't taken the opportunity to go home for a shower and fresh clothes while she'd been in the ER, and his first thought once at her place was to get to work helping *her*. How many other people in her life could she rely on to that extent? "How do you know that?" His question made her blink. How did she know what? She hadn't spoken aloud... "That he was wearing gloves." "Oh." She frowned, trying to remember. "I'm not sure. But I think... He held my arm. I don't think I felt skin. More like... latex, I think. But it's all very vague." And it *shouldn't* be. She should have stayed awake, tried to focus. Paid attention! "Well, it would make sense." Clark gestured for her to precede him to the door. She grabbed her purse and jacket on the way. "The police didn't find any prints. And he must have either got in or left through the front door - maybe both. There was stuff knocked over on a pretty direct path to the door." "So either he had keys, or he picked my locks." Seriously scary, the thought that someone could get into her apartment that easily. "I guess." He waited while she locked the door. Four locks. All deadbolt. With key control so only she could have copies made. Yet someone had got into her apartment through those four locks. She shivered. "If someone really wants to get into someplace, no locks are going to keep him out," Clark said, his voice wryly sympathetic. "You know that, Lois." She did. Didn't make her feel any better. "The Jeep's parked about half a block away. I couldn't get a space out front last night." "Okay." He fell into step beside her. "Want me to drive?" "No." It would give her something to concentrate on. "Fill me in on your phone calls on the way, okay?" Clark nodded and held the entrance door for her. "Can you drop me off at my place on your way to the Planet? I have to shower and change. If you don't want to take the time, I'll walk from here." He grimaced. "I wouldn't waste the time, but I don't even have my Press pass with me. Or my wallet." She raised an eyebrow at him. "I was planning to go to your apartment. I'll just make some calls of my own while you're getting ready." Had he thought she wouldn't care about the state he was in? Okay, there was no time to waste, but he was her partner. And her friend. And she needed him today. *With* her. She didn't want to go to the Planet without him. Even though it was hard not to grudge him the fifteen minutes or so he needed to get ready when the rest of her life was measurable in minutes and hours. ********* Clark was instinctively patting his pockets as he led the way to his front door - then stopped as he remembered. No wallet or Press ID - and no keys. Just as well he'd never let Lois talk him out of the country habit of keeping a spare key under the mat! Inside, he directed Lois to make herself at home before heading for the shower, shedding his clothes on the bedroom floor on the way. Alone with his own thoughts at last, in the solitude of his shower, he leaned against the tiled wall, feeling his body sag, his strength leeching away. For the last hour or more, he'd been struggling to keep up a steady stream of reassurance, through words, gestures, his very presence. Now that Lois wasn't here to need it, the assurance he'd been preaching all that time, that everything would be okay, vanished. As if it had never been there. Lois was *dying*. By this time tomorrow, she could be cold and still, laid out on some mortuary slab. Or on a pathologist's table, being sliced open bit by bit so that medical science could discover what had killed her. Lois was dying. They had less than a day to find out what was killing her. Just a few hours more than a normal working day. And if they failed... The consequences were too bleak to think about. *If he failed, he would lose Lois.* His eyes closed. Hot tears forced their way out past his lids and mingled with the jets of near-scalding water from the shower. And then he took a deep, shuddering breath and forced himself to stand upright. He needed to be strong. *Had* to be strong. Lois was right. What she'd said at the hospital... Giving way to emotion wasn't going to help them do what they needed to do. They needed to focus. They needed every bit of concentration, of thinking-power, logic and reasoning they had at their disposal. Plus help from anyone and everyone they could think of. And even then they needed a hell of a lot of luck. As it was, Lois wasn't going to be at her best. She was the one facing the death sentence - and more. He slumped against the wall again. Symptoms, the doctor had said. His heart skipped a beat. She was already pale, though that could just be down to shock and missing a night's sleep. But was it his imagination, or had she been unsteady on her feet coming down the steps inside his apartment? That little cough just before he'd left her - coincidence, or shortness of breath? For the second time, he gave himself a mental kick. Wallowing and worrying would *not* help. Lois needed practical help and support, not a babysitter. They had work to do. He stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel as he did so, and dried himself at super-speed. No time to waste. He shaved faster than normal, too, collecting a couple of heat-burns as a consequence. And then, pulling a clean suit and shirt from the closet, he paused. If this was going to be his last day with Lois - if they didn't find a cure for the poison that bastard had injected her with - how was he going to make it count? He'd always miss her. Always love her. Always hate that he hadn't been able to save her. The guilt would haunt him for the rest of his life. But what else would haunt him? What other regrets? It was like those truth or dare games he'd played with friends in college. Several of the guys had focused on dare-devil things. Excitement. Thrill-seeking. One or two had mentioned sex. The women had tended to focus on emotions - telling people they cared about that they loved them, resolving old wounds, revealing hidden feelings. Maybe experiencing intimacy for the first time with the person they loved. There was so much that he wanted to tell Lois. How he felt about her. How much she meant to him. How he'd miss her for the rest of his life. All the secrets he'd been keeping from her. But what if she didn't want to hear them? She'd told him once before not to fall for him. Maybe she still felt the same way. Maybe telling her would only embarrass them both - and if they did manage to save her, the repercussions would be difficult to deal with. Humiliating, perhaps. Plus their first priority had to be saving Lois's life. There wasn't time for emotions. On the other hand... would he regret not telling her? He glanced in the mirror and straightened his tie. And made himself a promise. If, by the time Dr Sutton confirmed that it was too late to save Lois, they hadn't found the cure, he'd tell her everything. At least then that would be one regret he wouldn't have. ********** "Make yourself at home," Clark had said before disappearing. "You know where the coffee is." Coffee. As if she could think about coffee at a time like this! She pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat, only to jump to her feet seconds later and start pacing. Moments later, she noticed that she was alternately twisting her hands together and tugging at the neckline of her blouse. Fidgeting. She hated fidgets! And yet she couldn't keep still. There was too much to think about. Too much to do. Who? Who could it be? Kyle Griffin - one person who was just crazy enough to choose this way of getting back at her - was safely in a maximum- security prison. So was that crooked politician she'd exposed early in her career - Bertoli, right? What about Crazy Joe Murphy? She'd put an end to his lucrative weapons-fencing career. Then there was that hitman - what was his name again? She'd be able to check the files at the Planet, of course - once they got there. What was keeping Clark? She glanced at her watch once more, and sighed when it told her that it hadn't been much more than five minutes since they'd got here. She needed to be at the Planet. Checking files, chasing down leads, talking to sources... Sources! Whirling on her heel, Lois reached for Clark's phone and punched in a number from memory. "Bobby? Lois Lane. I need your help." A few minutes later, she hung up, frustrated. Bobby had heard nothing. Whoever this guy was, he wasn't talking. No-one knew of a new death threat against Lois Lane - if there were any rumours at all, Bobby would have heard them. Damn. Something touched her shoulder, and she jumped. "Sorry," Clark said, sounding rueful, and she spun on her heel to find him standing behind her, fully dressed and clearly ready to leave, his hand pulling back from her. "I thought you heard me come out." "No." And it wasn't often that someone could sneak up on Lois Lane. That just showed how distracted she was - and that was not good. Today, she needed every one of her faculties. He gave her a crooked smile. "We should get going." Lois nodded, but then she hesitated. And, in an impulse she didn't understand, she reached for Clark's hand. He curled his fingers around hers and squeezed gently. Well, even if she didn't understand, it seemed he did. "Clark?" "Yeah?" He didn't release her hand, and she didn't pull back either. "Don't leave me alone today?" His expression softened, and she saw deep sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy she'd reject from anyone else - but from Clark, somehow, it was what she wanted. Needed. Just as she'd needed him when Barbara Trevino had tried to kill her. She'd protested then, of course, that she could look after herself... but she'd craved Clark's protection all the same. "Of course I won't, Lois." "No running off? No sudden impulse to pick up a candy bar or talk to some source I know nothing about?" His gaze held hers as securely as his hand did. "I promise." And, walking out to her car, her hand stayed in his. ********** She was quiet during the journey downtown. In unspoken agreement now, Clark was driving, and Lois seemed to be a million miles away. A couple of times, he attempted to begin conversation, only to receive a distracted response, so he left her to it. Once he cut the engine in the parking garage, however, he reached over and touched her shoulder, a gesture of reassurance and solidarity. Her gaze flew to him, and she caught his hand as he was pulling back. "Thanks, Clark. Sorry I was quiet. I was thinking... working out what to do..." Her head dipped. She hadn't been planning what to do. He knew that as well as he knew how scared she was. If she'd been strategising, she'd have done it aloud. They'd have done it together. "Come on." He squeezed her fingers again. "Let's get inside and get started." She nodded, then took a big, gulping breath. "I *have* to pull myself together! I..." She bit her lip. "I wasn't thinking about what to do. I was... I was wallowing." Compassion and anguish warred inside him. On impulse, he leaned towards her. "C'mere." It only took a light tug for her to be pressed against him, despite the gap between their seats. Even though he was careful to keep the hug brief, she was pulling away from him even before he released her. "Thanks. I needed that." Without looking at him, she opened her door and climbed out. The message was clear. No more shows of vulnerability. That, of course, he could well understand. They had a job to do. She needed to focus, and to do that her emotions had to be frozen out. Time was slipping away, far too quickly for his comfort. ********* She resisted the urge to cling to Clark as the elevator ascended. He'd been wonderful so far, but she had to pull herself together now. And, even though she had no idea what anyone in the newsroom had been told, she had no intention of letting *anyone* else see how this was affecting her. It wasn't just that she didn't want to be fussed over. Didn't want lots of pointless sympathy. It was also that, if this was to be the last day of her life, so be it. But no-one was going to be able to say that Lois Lane went out cowering and whimpering like a coward. Ding. The doors opened. And she took a deep breath, pulling her shoulders back and standing up straight and proud before stepping out into the busy, bustling newsroom. Nobody noticed her. People rushed past carrying papers or notepads; others sat at their desks busily typing or talking into telephones. Everything looked completely normal. She tugged at Clark's arm, dragging him in the direction of Perry's office. The door was, unusually, fully closed and the blinds were drawn. Just as she raised her hand to knock, something changed in the newsroom atmosphere. She paused, all senses on alert. And then the change became apparent. It had gone quiet. People were looking at her. And, she'd swear, whispering among themselves. "Ignore them, Lois." Clark was at her shoulder, murmuring quietly. He reached past her and rapped on Perry's door, then opened it immediately in response to the reply. Perry was there, looking greyer than she could ever remember seeing him. He got to his feet and came over to her. "Lois... aw, darlin', I just can't believe this is happening!" A lump had appeared out of nowhere and settled itself in her throat. Again. And her eyes were stinging. Again. She *wasn't* going to cry! If she spoke, she wouldn't be able to control her voice. Instead, she tried a smile, knowing that it was coming out shaky. The concern on Perry's face grew. Then there was a hand on her arm, and Clark was gently pushing her into a chair. "Hi, Chief. We just came in for an update. And I guess you know we won't be working on any of our assigned stories today. Also, I think it'd be best if we worked in one of the conference rooms." Speaking in normal tones, as if this was just any other day when there was a big story to write, Clark somehow managed to bring down the emotional level in the room from its heightened state. Grateful, she smiled at him. "Whatever you kids want, you can have," Perry was saying. "I've already set half a dozen people looking up the information you asked for. And every reporter in the newsroom is chasing down their snitches." "We probably won't get anywhere with that." Her voice sounded completely normal, much to her relief. "I called Bobby Bigmouth - he hasn't heard a thing. Not even a whisper of a rumour that anyone wanted me - or any reporter - dead. And that's really unusual." "It's still worth a try," Clark said. A sharp tap sounded at the door. Perry was just opening his mouth to speak when it opened to reveal Inspector Henderson. "Thought I'd find you two here," he said, his gaze flicking between her and Clark. For probably the first time since she'd met him, no flippant remark came to Lois's lips. There was something about the dour, play-it-by-the-book cop which normally seemed to bring out the worst in her. It wasn't that Bill Henderson was a bad cop. He wasn't lazy or stupid. He was probably the least corrupt cop she knew, too. His clear-up rate was higher than average, though not as high as some of his flashier, attention-grabbing colleagues who were rarely off the evening news bulletins. His problem was that he hated reporters crawling all over his cases, and made it very clear that he begrudged sharing information. Right now, though, there wasn't another cop in the city she'd prefer to have on her side. "I hope you don't object to the intrusion, Perry, but I knew better than to expect Lois to do the sensible thing and come down to the precinct." Henderson's normal dry tone offered no concession to the circumstances, and Lois was grateful. "In case you hadn't noticed, I don't have a lot of spare time today," she said, a sardonic tone creeping into her voice. A hand touched her shoulder, squeezing gently. She didn't need to glance back to know that it was Clark. "I'm aware of that, Lois." Henderson's tone was gentler. "And I don't intend to waste any of it." She shouldn't be taking out her frustration on him. He was here to help. "Okay. Where do we start?" He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. "I need to know exactly what happened this morning - both from you and Clark. If there's somewhere we can talk, in a minute or two?" He looked enquiringly at Perry. Perry waved a hand. "Use one of the conference rooms." "Thanks. Okay - " Henderson began ticking points off on his fingers. "I've got a couple of officers at the hospital talking to Dr Sutton. Half a dozen more are searching computer files at the precinct for possible suspects. Two more are interviewing people in your apartment block and on your street, Lois, and there's a forensic team going over your apartment right now. If we're lucky, the bastard might have let some of the poison leak onto the floor. Or we might get really lucky - he might have dumped the hypodermic somewhere we can find it." Her eyes widened. When Henderson got serious, he really pulled out all the stops! But why hadn't it occurred to her that some of the poison could have spilled? Though, knowing her luck, the chances that they'd be that fortunate were probably pretty slim. Still, it was worth a try. "You've got your own people checking here too, I guess." Henderson looked at Perry. "Yeah, Jimmy Olsen and a bunch of researchers have been going through all Lois's old stories and looking up correspondence in the files." Henderson nodded. "I'll get a couple of officers over here - they'll need access to all of that material." "Now hold on a minute here!" Perry frowned. "These are confidential Planet files..." Henderson rolled his eyes. "Let me put it this way. Either we work together or we just waste time getting in each other's way. This isn't a competition. We all want the same thing here." He leaned against the wall in a deceptively lazy pose. "The police databases are better than anything your people have access to - legitimately or otherwise - and it's going to be quicker for my people to check if any possibles are in jail or on the streets or in another state." "I wouldn't rule out anyone in jail." Clark spoke for the first time since Henderson had arrived. "After all, the guy who broke into Lois's apartment could just be the messenger." "Except no-one's going to have access to a chemistry set in prison," Lois pointed out dryly. "No, but they could have given someone the formula." That was true, and Lois sighed. "Great. Make it even more of a needle in a haystack." "Welcome to police work, Lois." Henderson's tone was back to being dry. Then he straightened and moved away from the wall, turning his attention to Perry again. "I want to put a tap on Lois's phone." Lois was on her feet immediately. "No *way*!" Perry was frowning. "Now, you know I can't agree to that, Inspector." Henderson sighed. "I know, I know. First amendment. Freedom of the press. I've heard it all before - more times than I care to remember. But this is different." "You can't tap my phone." Henderson ignored her. "Perry, you have to see that this is important. I'm trying to prevent a murder here. This isn't just about protecting some low-life snitch or two." "He's got a point, Chief." That was Clark, leaning against the wall on the other side of the room with his arms folded, his brow furrowed. He couldn't possibly be considering... "Clark!" "I know he has." Perry again. "And, believe me, I'd like nothing more than to say yes. But how can I run a newspaper specialising in *investigative* journalism if it ever gets out that I allowed the MPD to tap our phone-lines? This isn't just some whim. We're not being stubborn. Journalists go to prison to protect their sources. Hell, reporters have *died* rather than give up a source." "Lois could die if you don't help me out here." The words, the tone were deliberately brutal, she was sure. Designed to scare them into agreeing. But she couldn't. Of course she didn't want to die. But there were still some lines she refused to cross. "No, Perry." Ignoring Henderson, ignoring Clark, she focused on the person whose decision it would be. "Look, I know the kind of guy we're dealing with here." Henderson raked a hand through his hair, his expression irritated. As if she was wasting his time. Didn't he understand that she was the one whose time was limited? "This guy could have killed you outright, Lois. He got into your apartment. Got you helpless. It would've taken him seconds to break your neck, shoot you, stab you... but instead he injected you with this stuff. He wants you to *know* that you're dying - to go through this entire day with a death sentence hanging over your head. He wants you to suffer." Right. How about telling her something she didn't already know? "So a guy like that isn't content to believe that you're suffering. He wants to *know* it. That means he's probably watching you." True. That much she'd already figured out. She nodded. In her peripheral vision, she noticed Perry and Clark nodding slowly. "And he'll want you to know that he knows. So at some point today he's going to call you. That's the way a guy like this works. And I want to tap your phone so that when he does call we'll have at least a chance of tracing the call and *finding* the bastard." With exaggerated patience, Henderson made his key point. "Chief, I know all the reasons why we shouldn't, but I think Henderson's right." Clark again. "We have to get this guy. It could be Lois's only hope." Now Perry looked torn. And Lois wasn't sure of her own feelings. "I can't do anything that would jeopardise the safety of reporters or their sources. Or the Planet's reputation. I'm sorry, Inspector - " "We can isolate Lois's phone. Have it set up on a totally separate line not part of the Planet's network. The phone company can do it in seconds. Any calls for her - either on her direct number or through the switchboard - will be redirected to this line. It'll be totally undetectable to callers. That way the Planet's network isn't compromised." It was splitting hairs. Lois knew it, and she could see that Perry did too. A reporter's phone would still be tapped. Regardless of whether it was still on the Planet's phone network or not, the police would be able to listen in on any of her calls. And potentially trace and identify anyone who called her. "We're not interested in any calls other than from this guy. I don't want to waste police man-hours listening to lunatics calling Lane up with crack-induced tips. I can give Lois a beeper. If the guy calls, she hits the beeper and we'll have an officer on the line immediately." Henderson turned back to the editor. "Perry, you have my personal guarantee that any tapes will be destroyed once all this is over. And the fact that the tap happened won't get out - I trust my officers. They don't talk." Perry hesitated. Then he nodded. "Okay. Do it." She still didn't like it. But, contrarily, relief washed over her. "Right. If you two are ready, I'd like to talk to you now." Henderson got to his feet and headed for the door. "Lois, the forensic team should be ready to leave your apartment any minute. If they find anything, I'll let you know. I've also had officers interviewing your neighbours to find out if they saw or heard anything. I'm putting as much resources into this as I can." Yes, she'd already noticed that. She met his gaze, the usual hardened, cynical expression softened into something almost close to sympathy. "Thanks, Bill. I appreciate it." "There's just one thing I'm curious about." Now there was a half- smile on his lips. "What's that?" "Why did you call Kent? Why not yell for Superman?" "Oh!" Lois frowned. Why hadn't she? "I don't know," she said slowly. "I guess... Well, I was barely conscious. I think I just acted on instinct." And that said a lot. That she would think of Clark first, not Superman, when she was operating on auto-pilot? ********* By the time Henderson left, Clark could see that Lois was getting antsy. It wasn't surprising; after all, the minutes and hours were ticking away. It was now almost ten. Nearly seven hours of the twenty-four gone already, and they were no further forward. No nearer to finding the antidote. Listening to her explain what had happened to Henderson had been harrowing. He hadn't actually heard the full story from her until that moment, and guilt and anger had torn at him. Why hadn't he been there for her? Why hadn't he known that something was wrong? Why had she had to *call* him to help her? He loved her so much... surely he should have *known* that she needed him? Henderson's earlier question puzzled him, too. Why had she picked up the phone to call Clark? Why hadn't she yelled for Superman? She'd been dopey and confused, drugged by the ether. Surely it would have been far easier to yell? Did it, just possibly, say something about how she felt about him? About *Clark*? But that wasn't important now. Saving Lois's life was what mattered. One good thing had come out of the interview. Lois had remembered something new. She was sure now, she said, that her attacker was left-handed. It was something to do with the way he'd held her down, or the way he'd used the syringe, she thought. Henderson had been sceptical, but had agreed to take it into account. But they were still no further forward. "What next, Lois?" She wanted to call the shots. It made her feel that she was at least in control of *something*. For now, anyway, he was going along with it - it wasn't as if he had any better ideas, anyway. Short of flying around the city searching for some guy in a Donald Duck outfit carrying an empty syringe, he was out of ideas. She inhaled sharply. "We need to start going through the possibles Jimmy and the others are coming up with. But first I need to call the hospital. Find out what they're doing with the lab tests." He nodded. "I'll go and get the files they're finished with." He wanted to stay and hear what was happening with the lab results, but they didn't have time for him to stand around doing nothing. And anyway, a few minutes' breathing space, where he didn't have to pretend an optimism that he didn't feel, would help. Jimmy looked up, an anxious expression on his face, as Clark approached. "How's Lois?" "She's - " Fine, he was about to say. That was what she'd have said, to anyone but himself. But how could he utter the lie? Sighing, he amended his words. "She's not so good. Which is why we need this information." "Yeah." Jimmy's expression was bleak, and he rubbed his forehead. "We're getting through the files as fast as we can - and now Henderson's guys are here too it'll be quicker. Problem is, with so little to go on it's tough to narrow it down." "I know." Clark nodded, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets. "And I don't even think you can confine it to anyone who's not in jail - the way I see it, this could be co-ordinated from prison by anyone with the right contacts." "Yeah, I wondered about that." Jimmy nodded towards one towering stack of manila files. "Here's everything we've pulled out so far. Kostas over there - " He waved his hand in the direction of a stranger, a wiry, thirtysomething guy wearing a crumpled suit. One of Henderson's men, Clark presumed. " - is running the names through the MPD database." "Okay, thanks." Clark picked up the files, remembering just in time to act as if the oversized bundle was heavy. "I'll take these into the conference room." "CK." The tension in Jimmy's voice made him pause, and he glanced back at the younger man. "Yeah?" "Take care of Lois, okay? She... We might not always show it, but she means a lot to us here." "I know." And he had to struggle to keep his voice even. As he turned to go back to the conference room, one of Henderson's men beckoned him over. He changed course, feeling guilty relief that he didn't have to rejoin Lois just yet. ********** "*Yes*, I'm still holding!" Blinking back tears yet again, Lois held the receiver away from her ear as the aggravating elevator music recommenced. Didn't the hospital understand that this was an emergency? A genuine life and death situation? What was wrong with the lab that she had to be kept on hold for almost ten minutes? She'd already been given the runaround. Dr Sutton, she'd been told, was "with a patient." Sure, she had to accept that his other patients were important, but surely he would have left instructions that she was to be put straight through if she called? Apparently not. The best the ER receptionist had been able to offer was to get a message to Sutton "whenever it was possible." Which could be any time in the next few hours. So she'd asked to be put through to the lab. That wasn't possible either, apparently. Infuriated, she'd called again and pretended to be a drug company representative and was now waiting for a human being to pick up the phone. "Lab." At last! "Yes. I'm calling about test results for Lois Lane." "Who is this?" The voice on the other end of the line turned faintly suspicious. "I'm Lois Lane." She almost snapped the words out. "Wait a minute... you're a *patient*?" "Do you have the results yet?" Lois demanded. She heard a sigh. "We do not disclose test results to anyone but the attending physician or a member of nursing staff assigned to the case. I don't know how you got this number, but we don't speak directly to patients." "You don't understand!" Lois exclaimed. "This is an emergency! I... I've been poisoned and time's running out. I need to know if anyone's actually *doing* anything to save my life!" "You should talk to the attending physician, Ms Lane." The professionally calm tone on the other end of the line did nothing to reassure Lois. "You think I didn't try? He's busy with patients." She had to take a deep breath to steady her voice. "Every minute that goes by means I've got less chance of surviving beyond today. I need to know what's happening!" She heard shuffling noises, as if paper was being shifted around. "As I said, we don't deal directly with patients. But I can tell you that the lab's been backed up for a couple of days now. We're still working through the backlog of tests from the water contamination over on the east side - every hospital lab's got the same problem. Plus we've got a couple of our staff off sick - they drank contaminated water. So we're going to be slower than usual getting through blood work." Disbelieving, Lois said, "But Dr Sutton must have marked my test as urgent..." "So has half the medical staff. You really need to speak to Dr Sutton." Thinking quickly, Lois said, "Don't you use private labs for overflow work?" "Sometimes. But - and I really shouldn't be telling you this - the contract's expired and management's in the process of renegotiating it, so we won't be sending anything to an outside lab for the time being." This was unbelievable! Her life depended on the result of this blood test, and the hospital was making it impossible for her blood to be analysed! At the rate this was going, by the time Dr Sutton had her test results she'd be six feet under. She ran a shaky hand through her hair. "What if I pay to have my test done somewhere else?" "I'm afraid you can't do that, Ms Lane. Laboratories don't deal directly with the public. Look," the woman added, as Lois let out a despairing sigh, "here's what I can do. I'll speak to Dr Sutton. If he confirms what you've told me, I'll do my best to make sure that your test gets priority. Okay? Now I really have to get back to work." There was a click, and the call was disconnected. Was that it? Was that really all that could be done? Her life was depending on a backed-up, understaffed lab where no- one seemed to understand the concept of a life-and-death situation. God. Could it get any worse? The door opened, and Clark entered carrying a couple of armfuls of files. "Sorry I took so long. One of Henderson's guys wanted to ask me about Barbara Trevino." Trevino. One of the many people who'd tried to kill her... And Trevino was a scientist. But she shook her head after a moment. "Too tall to be Trevino." Clark shrugged very faintly. "Trevino's still in prison. But that doesn't mean she couldn't be behind it." "I guess." Even to herself, her tone sounded defeated. Clark's brows narrowed. "What is it, Lois? You're not giving up already?" "Clark, you won't believe it! The lab hasn't even started on my blood test yet!" Frustration poured out of her as, near to tears, she told Clark about the phone call. "And I can't even get it done at another lab because they don't..." She trailed off and her eyes widened. Why hadn't she thought of that before? "Lex!" she exclaimed, as Clark stared at her. "Huh?" "Lex Luthor. He owns LexLabs! He could pull strings..." She could tell from Clark's expression that he didn't like it. Clark and his irrational dislike of Lex Luthor! Well, he'd better not even start. Not when this could be the key to saving her life. But he nodded, obviously pushing his own feelings aside. "Yes, that could work. You going to call him?" She already had the phone in her hand. Now, all she had to hope for was that Lex wasn't out of town or unreachable somehow. After giving her name to a series of flunkies at LexCorp, she was transferred to Lex himself. "Lois! What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?" "I need your help, Lex. It's urgent." "Oh?" She could hear the surprise in his voice. "What's the problem?" As briefly as she could, she explained what had happened. "Lois, my dear, that's appalling!" He sounded utterly shocked, which was... nice. Reassuring. Even if she needed action from him rather than sympathy. "How are you feeling? What can I do? Do you need money? Medical treatment in Switzerland? Private detectives to track down the bastard who did this?" "A blood test. You own LexLabs..." "But of course; my facilities are entirely at your disposal." His agreement was immediate. "But isn't the hospital taking care of that?" Again, she explained. "I don't even know whether they'll get around to my test today. Even if they do, it could already be too late." "Consider it done." Lex's calm, decisive tone was immensely reassuring. "I'll contact the hospital to get your sample released, and LexLabs will be on standby. I assume that it's best to go with the original sample?" Lois nodded then, remembering that he couldn't see her, said, "Yes. Dr Sutton took it from the injection site." "You can leave it in my hands. The director of the lab will be in touch with you as soon as the results are available, and they'll be faxed through to your physician as well. And, if I may, I'll find out who's the best poisons expert in the country and I'll have him sent the results too." "Thanks, Lex." Lois closed her eyes briefly. "I knew I could count on you." "Any time, Lois. We *will* find a cure." ********* Lex Luthor. The last person Clark wanted involved in any way. And yet Lois was right. The blood work was essential, and if Luthor could speed the process up it would be crazy not to ask for his help. And Luthor was coming through for Lois. Listening to the conversation, Clark could almost believe that the older man was everything he seemed: genuinely concerned for the well-being of a friend, wanting to do everything he could to help. Yeah. Even Al Capone loved his mother. As Lois replaced the receiver, Clark said, "All taken care of?" "Yeah. He's going to have the sample picked up and taken to LexLabs." She tilted her head from side to side, as if relieving a stiff neck. He stepped towards her and began to massage the muscles gently. "Oh, that's good," she murmured. "Of course, the hospital and LexLabs are on opposite sides of the city," she continued. "It's going to take about an hour to get the sample over there." She turned her head and looked up at Clark. "I wish I knew how to contact Superman. He could have it there in seconds." Superman. He stood, frozen, his hand resting unmoving against Lois's neck. Superman. Why hadn't it occurred to him before? There was so much he could do to help her using his powers. Of course, he already had been, but doing it surreptitiously meant he couldn't do as much as if he were in the costume. Besides... He'd never told her before. Had never seen any reason to. There'd been the small matter of her crush on the Spandex, apart from anything else. But this was different. This really was a matter of life and death. And, even if he couldn't save her life this time, he wanted her to know before... Before. "Lois." His mind made up, he moved to stand in front of her. She looked up at him. "What is it? Can you contact Superman for me?" Hope resonated in her voice. "I can do better than that." He reached for her hand; she wrapped her fingers around his. "Lois, I'm Superman. And I'll do whatever you want me to, starting with taking that sample to LexLabs for you." Her eyes widened, and then she frowned. "What did you say?" Clark hunkered down so that his face was level with hers, and with his free hand he pulled off his glasses. "I'm Superman." ************ It was happening already. Her body - her nervous system - was already giving up on her. It had to be. Otherwise she'd just have heard Clark tell her that he was Superman. And that couldn't be true. Right? Right. It just couldn't. Superman was... well, Superman! And Clark was... Clark. Different guys. Different names. Different... well, just different. Totally different! But those eyes... She'd never seen Clark without his glasses before. He looked so... altered. Without the shield, his eyes seemed warmer, deeper, more intense than before. And it wasn't just his eyes. The whole shape of his face was different. In fact, if it wasn't for the hair, and the light grey suit, she could swear... God, she was going crazy. Now she couldn't even see straight. She was looking at Clark and seeing Superman. There were two faces in front of her. One, good old familiar Clark, a look of deep concern in his gaze. The other, the calm, capable expression of Superman. As she stared, they seemed to merge into one another and then separate again. Moving, blending, shifting, splitting, right before her eyes. Drifting out of focus... She blinked. Nope, everything was still hazy. And she was still seeing double. God. It wasn't just her ears. Now her eyes were giving up on her. It was already happening. "Lois?" She let out a low moan. "Lois? Lois! Are you okay?" She was being shaken, at first gently and then more roughly. An insistent voice - Clark's? Superman's? - was calling her name. Again, she blinked, and suddenly everything was clear again. Focused. Except that Superman still crouched in front of her in Clark's clothes. "Lois." His voice was gentler now, but underlaid with worry. "I... I spaced out for a minute." "I noticed." And she could still hear the worry she knew he was desperately trying to hide. "I'm going crazy." She raked fingers through her hair, realising as she lifted her hand to do it that Clark still held her other hand. "For a moment there... I thought you were Superman." "I am." And now his voice was calm. In control. And full of that *aura* that Superman had about him. The way he seemed to radiate confidence, assurance, *hope*, just by being there. Clark was Superman. Well, at least her ears weren't letting her down after all. Yet. Clark was Superman. "Why didn't you *tell* me?" she exclaimed, wrenching her hand away from his. "I thought I just did." "Don't be cute!" She pushed at his chest. "You know what I mean." He remained exactly where he was, crouched in front of her. "Lois, I didn't tell *anyone*! You're the smartest woman - smartest *person* - I know. You of all people have to be able to figure out why I don't tell people about this." Abruptly, he straightened, moving back from her as he did so. Instantly, she felt the loss of his presence - the loss of his *comfort*. Clark and Superman were the same person. It was way too much to take in. And if she let herself think about all the times... Everything she'd said... and done... with each of them... He'd saved her life countless times. *Clark* had saved her life. She swallowed suddenly. Was Superman going to be able to save her life this time? "Lois." Clark's tone commanded her attention. "Look, I know it's been a shock. I know you're working up to be mad, too. You can yell at me all you like - *later*. Right now we have more important things to do, remember?" Yeah. Like figuring out a way to save her life. "Okay." And she nodded. "Okay. I need you to call Luthor back and tell him to let the hospital lab know that I - that Superman's on his way to pick up the sample. All right?" Nodding again, Lois reached for the phone. Her head was spinning. Her brain was rebelling against the instructions she was trying to give it. Clark was *Superman*! All this time, and he'd never told her. No, she'd never guessed! Not an inkling. It had never even occurred to her that there might be more to the 'hack from Smallville', as she'd unfairly dubbed him, than appeared at face value. How could he possibly be Superman and she have no clue at all? Not even a *suspicion* that there was something different about him? "Lois." She looked up at the note of impatience in Clark's voice, and saw him frowning at her. He was wearing his glasses again and, as he gave her a 'get on with it' wave of his hand, he seemed so familiar again. Her partner. The guy she worked with eight, ten, sometimes twelve hours a day. The person she thought she'd known better than anyone. The man she hadn't known at all. "Okay. Lex." And she dialled. ********** He really should have told her sooner. Okay, he had the best of reasons for keeping his identity a secret, but these were exceptional circumstances. Lois was *dying*. She could be *dead* by the early morning. He didn't want her to die without knowing the truth. No. Thinking like that was a bad idea. She wasn't going to die. He was going to do everything in his power to ensure that didn't happen. Now that she knew the truth, too, it would be easier. Why hadn't that occurred to him sooner? All those files they had to go through - he could search them in seconds. He could have a list of who, what, where, when, how, all written down in less than the time it'd take Lois to read one file. How could he do that if she didn't know? And how could he possibly have sat there next to her, reading files at the snail's pace of human capacity, knowing how important every second was? Stupid. Of course he should have told her. Just like he should have flown her to the hospital. And back from the hospital. Too late for recriminations now. She knew, and that was the important thing. He smiled suddenly, remembering the immediate aftermath of his revelation. Once he'd told her, she'd just stared at him for what seemed like minutes. That was a novelty: he'd actually rendered Lois Lane speechless! The hospital lay below, and he dipped down; seconds later, he was standing in the path lab, being greeted by the chief pathology officer. He cut the pleasantries short; while he didn't want to be rude to the woman, time was of the essence. Back in the air again, and now to LexLabs. He was supposed to ask for a Dr Fabian Leek; he'd waited until after Lois had made her second call to Luthor since there'd been no point in him being at the hospital before Luthor had had a chance to alert them to the fact that it would be Superman collecting the sample. Luthor had told Lois to pass on Leek's name to Superman. LexLabs looked more like a brand-new, expensive financial complex than a laboratory. But then, that had a lot to do with its owner. Nothing belonging to Lex Luthor could possibly look shabby, or even just mundane. Heaven forbid. The security guard at the door saluted, then stood back to let him pass. "Straight down the hall, Superman, and you'll see Dr Leek's door right ahead of you. He's waiting for you." "Thanks." He inclined his head, but didn't pause. Mere seconds later, he was handing over the sterile-wrapped vial to the sandy- haired man in oversized glasses. Leek didn't exactly do much to inspire his confidence, but it was hardly likely that Luthor would employ somebody incompetent to run his trailblazer lab, was it? After all, LexLabs had won several awards and had, only two years ago, come up with a revolutionary drug to ease the pain of arthritis. "I'll get onto this right away, Superman," Leek said, his unctuous tone irritating. Clark did his best to shrug his reaction aside. He wasn't interested in the man for his social skills. "Thank you." Leek hurried to the door, and Clark was about to follow him. But a voice he hadn't expected to hear stopped him. "Superman." He turned, as Lex Luthor stepped through a door on the other side of the room. Clark stiffened. Yet the billionaire looked less urbane, less arrogantly in control of his universe, than usual. He actually looked... concerned. And it wasn't a fake concern. Clark had seen that expression on Luthor's face before; he'd heard the man murmur slick words of practised condolence, or false sympathy for someone's predicament. No, Luthor was really worried. "Yes?" Still, he wasn't about to be friendly. Not with this man - this murdering gangster masquerading as a philanthropist businessman. "How is Lois? You've seen her?" Yes, there was definite anxiety there. Clark schooled his features. "She's coping. As you'd expect from a strong, determined woman like Lois Lane. She's not letting this get her down." "I'm not surprised. Lois is... extraordinary." Luthor sighed. "I want to help, Superman. I'll do anything I can. All my resources - my entire fortune is at her disposal. Please tell her that." The man actually meant it. This was a person who could callously, brutally end the life of a former lover, just because she'd outlived her usefulness to him. Oh, he had no proof that Luthor had killed Antoinette Baines, but he'd bet anything on it. And yet Luthor was willing to use everything he owned to save Lois's life. Clark shook his head. He'd never understand Lex Luthor. "It's not a matter of money. We have to find the antidote to the poison. And there are only two ways of doing that: identify the precise compound that was used in order to devise the appropriate antidote or treatment, or find whoever's behind this and get the formula from them." "I see." Luthor's expression turned thoughtful. "Well, at least I can help there. I will ensure that my staff have the test results available as soon as possible, and I already have Nigel - my assistant - working on contacting the best poisons experts in the country. We can have the test results faxed to them too. I assume the police are involved?" "Yes. Inspector Henderson's in charge of the case." Luthor nodded. "He's one of the best. Still..." He hesitated. Then he met Clark's gaze head-on, his expression direct. "Superman, let us be frank. We don't like each other, you and I, but that's irrelevant here. What matters is saving Lois's life." "That's true," Clark agreed. What was going on here? He stilled for a moment. Was this all part of some elaborate bluff? Was *Luthor* himself behind it? He had the resources, beyond any doubt. It would be a piece of cake for Luthor to get one of his scientists - perhaps even Dr Fabian Leek himself - to come up with a lethal poison to get an interfering journalist out of his way permanently. And no-one would ever suspect him. And yet... Lois had never investigated Luthor. She bought the man's act, hook, line and sinker. She'd been on a couple of dates with him. And Luthor was attracted to Lois. That was obvious, and whenever Clark had caught the other man so much as looking at Lois it'd made his blood boil. True, Luthor hadn't hesitated to kill another woman he'd been romantically involved with. But Lois? What motive could he have had? It would be more plausible had Clark been his target. No. As much as he didn't want to believe it, Luthor was being sincere. For once in his life. "Superman." Luthor had obviously noticed his abstraction; his tone was impatient. "Let's try to focus here." "I have to get back. Time's of the essence." His tone, in response, was sharp. "Exactly. So let's get this said and over with. I have... connections, a fact which won't surprise you. You may wonder why I'm acknowledging it, but if you'll think about it you'll realise that there's nothing you can do with that information. I simply want you to know that I intend to use those connections to see if I can find out anything about who is behind this." Clark pulled his jaw back into place. Luthor admitting to having criminal contacts? Yet, of course, Luthor was right. He hadn't actually admitted anything, really. He had connections? Sure. So did everybody. He hadn't spelt out what sort of connections, even though both of them knew exactly what he meant. Focus on what really mattered. "Lois - and Henderson - have already been working on their contacts on the street. Nobody's talking." "With respect, Superman, the kind of people who might know about this won't talk to the police. Or a reporter. Let's just say that I have... leverage... Lois and Henderson don't." Oh, he'd just bet. "I hope you're successful." And that was honest, even if it was the first time he'd ever wanted Luthor to succeed at something. "Am I to inform Lois of this?" "You'll understand, I'm sure, if I say I'd prefer that you don't." Luthor's smile was cynical. "Superman, believe me when I say that nothing is more important to me than saving Lois's life." At least they were united in that. Though the thought that he and Luthor shared any kind of common aim at all made acid roil in his chest. Yet, much as he hated it, for the moment they were allies of a kind. He inclined his head. "Nor to me. Good luck, then." "Thank you. You know where to find me if there is anything else I can help with." "Yes." Clark swung around on his heel; his cape swished behind him as he did. Not a chance he would be seeking Luthor out for anything else; not if he could help it. Accepting Luthor's help in any form felt like getting into bed with the devil. The worst of it was he couldn't refuse. Anything that had a chance of saving Lois's life was worth doing. Even joining forces with Luthor. ********** After the fifth attempt at reading the file in front of her, Lois gave up, slamming it closed and losing a couple of pages in the process. Her frustration mounting, she shoved back her chair and bent down to grab the missing paper. It crumpled in her hands. She didn't care. Clark was Superman. He'd never told her. She'd never even guessed. And to find out *now*, of all times... Her partner, the guy she'd complained about having foisted on her, the naïve country boy with the irritating sense of humour and the maddening habit of editing her copy, was *Superman*! It was barely believable. Yet it was true. Once she'd looked at him, *really* looked at him, without his glasses she'd known it was true. She couldn't think about this now. There wasn't time. It was already nearly eleven. Almost half of her final day gone already, and she was no closer to saving her life. She had no idea who'd done this to her, her doctor had no ideas whatsoever as to how to treat her and her blood sample hadn't even been analysed. Great. And she'd had a concrete reminder that time really was running out. The episode of hazy double vision hadn't just been a consequence of learning the truth about Clark. All the more reason to get back to work. Reaching across to the towering pile Clark had brought in with him, she grabbed another file. Oh, this was someone she remembered. Marcus Kemp. Serial killer who enjoyed torturing his victims before ending their lives. She'd hunted him down, going undercover to pose as one of his preferred targets, and got enough evidence to enable the DA to get a conviction. She'd won a Kerth for it, too. He'd been spitting fire after the guilty verdict. He'd leaned over the edge of the dock and his gaze had bored right into hers as he'd sworn to make her pay. She'd regret it, he'd promised her. He'd make sure that she lived just long enough to regret what she'd done to him. Kemp. Definitely a possibility. She stared at the passport-sized photo clipped to the front of the file. Close-cropped hair. Thin, weasely face. Too thin to be the face behind the mask? Hard to tell. Besides, wasn't he still in prison? She made a note to have Jimmy, or Henderson's men, check on that. Or she could just ask Clark to fly over the prison. A semi- hysterical giggle escaped her. Clark was Superman. Why hadn't he told her? All the times she'd seen him as Superman, the things he'd said to her... Telling her that she was special. Making her fall in *love* with him! The things she'd said to him as Clark... No wonder he hadn't told her. He'd said she could yell at him later. By rights, he should be the one yelling at her. This was getting her nowhere. Back to Marcus Kemp. She studied the photo again. Of course, the only problem with Kemp was that he'd killed his victims with a butcher's knife. And he'd never even completed high school, much less studied advanced chemistry. Not that that ruled Kemp out, all the same... She made a note to have Jimmy check out his cellmates and known associates in prison. The door opened then and Clark came in. As she looked up, he said, "All done." He'd been gone - she checked her watch - not much more than fifteen minutes. And in that time he'd been all the way across the city and back, and presumably had conversations along the way. Wow. She'd known Superman was fast, but it felt different somehow knowing that it was Clark doing all this stuff. "Thanks." She watched him as he pushed the door shut. He looked just like... Clark. Exactly the same man who'd waited for her at the hospital that morning, who'd held her and comforted her in the taxi, who'd reamed off those cops at her apartment. She'd had Superman with her the whole time, and she'd never known. "How are you getting on with those?" Clark gestured to the files. "Anything?" "Actually, there's one possibility - I was just going to take it out to Jimmy..." Grabbing the Kemp file, Lois pushed back her chair and stood. Immediately, the room spun around her. Her legs felt wobbly and her head woozy. Everything went out of focus. She flung her arms out, but had no idea where to reach for. She could feel herself swaying, losing all sense of balance, falling, the floor rising up to meet her... And then she was safe, lying in strong, reassuring arms with Clark's voice resounding in her head. ********* Oh god. It was happening already. What Dr Sutton had warned about - Lois was really starting to feel the effects of the poison. Her stumble in his apartment might have been coincidence. This, though, was real. At least super-speed had enabled him to catch her before she hurt herself. He cradled her against his chest, feeling her trembling against him, her rapid heartbeat thumping against his body. "Lois? Are you okay?" "Clark?" Her voice was thick. She was still halfway out of it. He buried his head in her shoulder. This couldn't happen! He couldn't lose her! But, unless they started to make some very real progress soon, it was going to happen. She stirred in his arms. "I'm okay, Clark. You can put me down now." He lifted his head and looked at her. Her gaze was clear and she'd stopped shaking. "Okay." He lowered her into the chair she'd vacated. "What just happened? Dizzy spell?" "Yeah." She grimaced. "Dr Sutton did warn me." "Yeah. I didn't think it'd happen so soon." She seemed to hesitate, then said, "Actually, I had an... episode... earlier, too. Blurry double vision." A lead weight seemed to settle in his chest. "We've got to get working. What's that file you want Jimmy to look at?" She explained why she'd chosen Kemp, and Clark nodded. "Makes sense. I'll take it out, and then we can get to work on the rest." He leaned down and scooped the file from the floor, then headed towards the door. The cry made him stop abruptly. Habit had him beginning to formulate an excuse, but then he remembered. Superman was unavoidably absent from duty today. "Clark? What is it?" Lois was watching him, looking puzzled. "Oh." He'd just been standing there, his hand on the door, not moving. "Someone calling for Superman." "You have to go, then, don't you?" She sounded alarmed. He shook his head instantly. "Not today. I promised you I wouldn't leave you, and I meant it." But he could hear the sound of shouts, and frightened protests. Someone was being attacked. "But that was before I knew... Clark, you have to go!" Now there was guilt in her voice. "No." He said it firmly, insistently. "Nothing today is as important as saving your life, Lois!" If there were other calls for help, as there surely would be, he'd have to school his reaction more carefully so that Lois didn't see. Hearing some other sounds then, he relaxed. Sirens. Running feet. The police were on the job and the victim was safe. "It's okay," he told her. "Emergency over." "You can tell *that*?" "I heard sirens and voices," he explained. "Anyway, don't worry about it, Lois. The world will just have to manage without Superman today." He gave a faint shrug. "It's not as if he always gets to everyone who needs him, anyway." "I guess not... but still..." He could tell that she was amazed that he'd do that for her. Didn't she know how much he cared for her? That he'd give his own life if it would cure her? Telling her that would only get both of them emotional, and that was something they couldn't afford. Not with the minutes inexorably ticking by, and no sign of any progress. So he said nothing and simply left the room. This time, he didn't get into conversation with Jimmy. Time was too precious. He took the new bundle of files the researcher had ready for him and returned to Lois. Once back in the conference room, he sat and pulled the files over in front of him and then, making himself ignore Lois, went through them at super-speed. Time slowed to a crawl around him as he flicked through each page of every file, studying each line in detail. When he'd finished, the conference-room clock told him that less than five minutes had elapsed. To his right, about a hundred discarded files were stacked. On his left were two bundles, one containing what he felt were slim possibilities requiring further checking; there were about fifty of those. And the final bundle, with forty files, contained strong possibilities, all criminals who had made threats of some sort against Lois or who had a scientific background of some sort. Now, he needed Lois's help to try to narrow down the suspects - with only a small number of exceptions, including Barbara Trevino, Sebastian Finn and Miranda, the perfumier whose last name he'd never actually discovered, they all related to investigations from before he'd joined the Planet. He looked over to Lois, intending to explain his system to her, and found her staring, wide-eyed and disbelieving, at him. "My god! If I hadn't seen that with my own eyes, I'd never have believed it." He shrugged. "That's super-speed for you. Anyway, let's get to work..." ********* The large clock on the conference-room wall had just ticked past 12:45. Already half the day had gone and they were no further forward. Well, a little further, if she counted the fact that ten minutes earlier a fax had arrived from LexLabs with the results of the blood test. Not that the medical jargon had told her anything much. It had simply listed what she assumed were traces of elements found in her blood. Since they were all listed by some sort of symbol or abbreviation - some were chemical symbols which she just about recognised, others just an illegible scrawl - nothing really made sense to her. Or to Clark, who did actually know something about chemistry. Henderson had sent one of his lackeys in a while ago to update them on the search of her apartment and the neighbourhood. Nothing. The forensic team had found nothing at all, not even the minutest piece of fabric or speck of fluid. And none of her neighbours had seen anything. It was as if the guy had never even been there. And yet she had tangible, painful evidence that he had. Clark was pestering her to eat something, but she really didn't feel hungry. He insisted that she needed to keep her strength up. Her stomach recoiled at the thought of food. Nausea bubbled up inside her, along with an achy feeling in the pit of her abdomen. She'd never felt so useless, either. They were supposed to be working - going through files, looking for clues, ranking possibles in order of likelihood - and she was doing none of it. Of course, she couldn't compete with Clark's ability to speed- read files in less than a second and recall every word of the contents. Nobody could. He was Superman, and he had powers to dwarf any human's abilities. That was... well, it was intimidating. Okay, it was pretty darned useful, too, but it couldn't help but make her feel inadequate. Yet that wasn't why she was feeling useless. Who cared about competition when her life was at stake? The real problem was that she was falling apart. She was Lois Lane - winner of three Kerths, possessor of the sharpest mind in the business. And right now she couldn't even have written a fluff piece on the mayor's new haircut. Her hands shook when she tried to pick up a file. At times, she had to read words several times to take them in - and as for stringing them together to make a sentence, that was hit and miss. Her head was throbbing - and she didn't even dare take a Tylenol in case it reacted badly with whatever poison was inside her. So much for her determination to save her own life. Right now she couldn't even keep herself upright. She *was* useless. And Clark had to think so, too - of course, he was far too kind to say so, but he wasn't stupid. The phone rang, shattering the near-silence in the conference room. Clark answered it, speaking briefly before holding the receiver out to her. He didn't look happy. "Lois Lane." "Lois, my dear! How are you feeling?" "Lex!" She shot a glance at Clark; what was his problem? But then, he'd always seemed disgruntled around Lex, hadn't he? "I guess I'm as well as you'd expect in the circumstances. But thank you for your help with the blood tests." "My pleasure, Lois. But I was calling to tell you that I've spoken to Dr Leek. In case the report he faxed to you was as incomprehensible to you as it was to me, let me tell you that he explained that your sample tested negative for all the agents your physician asked that it be tested for." Oh. So that was what it meant. They really were no further forward. "I see." "We've been consulting with a poisons expert from Johns Hopkins. He's recommended a few more substances which should be tested for, and that's Fabian's next step. I hope that he'll have more to report in an hour or so. Look at it this way, Lois: at least