Northern Lights 
by Gerry Anklewicz <gankle@rogers.com> 
Rated: PG-13 
Submitted: October 2005


The usual disclaimer: This is a fanfic based on the television 
show, Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. No 
copyright infringement is intended. I'm borrowing these 
characters for a little fun and not for any profit.

This fic takes place not long after Lois and Clark get married, 
but the New Krypton arc never happened in this universe.

I'd like to thank my beta-readers, ML Thompson for her keen eye 
for story-telling and pacing, Jude Williams and Carol Malo for 
their nitpicking of all the small details that help make me a 
better writer. My thanks also to a great GE, Sherry.

Algonquin Park, Ontario

Jeremy Hamilton paused for a moment. He wiped his brow and 
removed his jacket. Even though it was very cold out and he could 
see frost starting to settle on the ground, digging had made him 
hot. He took another moment to look over the lake at the moving 
patterns of light that curtained the black sky. He had heard of 
the aurora borealis, but he'd never seen it before this night. He 
promised himself to bring his sons to see nature's spectacular 
light show.

He listened carefully. All he heard were the peaceful night 
sounds of the country: a chirping cricket, a flutter of wings, a 
breath of wind whispering through the trees, the lapping of the 
lake water against the shore.

But he couldn't allow himself to dwell on the magnificence of 
nature. He had to keep digging a little deeper to bury his 
package before he and it were found. Jeremy knew he was being 
followed; he just didn't know who or where the hunter was. He 
kept digging until he heard the clang of metal against solid 
rock. He tried two more shovelfuls, but once again, he hit the 
ungiving Canadian Shield. He bent down, placed the package in the 
ground, shook his head in disgust, got up and began shovelling 
dirt over it. When the hole was filled, he patted down the mound 
of earth and brought the ubiquitous leaves and twigs to 
camouflage his work. He noted and memorized the formation of 
trees and rocks, but he hoped nobody would ever find the package 
again. It was more trouble than it was worth. Damn his brother. 
Why did he always manage to get himself in trouble?

He picked up the shovel, his jacket, his bottle of water and 
walked toward the lake, a hundred and fifty yards away. Once 
again, he looked around and listened. He sensed he was alone. He 
walked out to the end of the dock that no one had removed from 
the lake. They would have to do it soon, before the lake froze 
over, but he decided not to bemoan his good fortune. He stood on 
the end of the dock and with the shovel in his right hand, he 
began to swing it overhead--not quite a shotput, but the training 
was good enough for his purpose tonight. With one loud grunt, he 
heaved the shovel far into the lake. He watched as it sank 
leaving only large concentric circles moving away from the 
centre. When the ripples died down, Jeremy stood a little longer 
and watched the peaceful lake and the dancing lights to the north 
of him. He then picked up his jacket which he had left on the 
sand and jogged the two miles back to his car.

By the time he'd reached the rented vehicle, he was breathing 
hard and sweating more than he had earlier. He leaned against the 
driver's side and waited until his breath subsided to a normal 
rate. He was in good shape, but he had also exerted himself too 
much. It was all right now. He'd go back home and forget about...

The sounds had changed. Slowly, he turned around one hundred and 
eighty degrees until he saw a large shadow coming towards him. He 
stepped away from the car and began running in the opposite 
direction he had come from. He heard the footsteps of the shadow 
growing louder and speeding up. He ran. Not quite sure where he 
was going, Jeremy sensed rather than saw an opening in the brush 
that hugged the road. He turned sharply and ran down the dirt 
path, but the road was uneven and he stumbled several times. Even 
after the road ended he kept running, tripping over underbrush 
but getting up and continuing. He jogged left and then right, 
trying to get away from the shadow before it overtook him. He 
hoped that he would find somewhere to hide. In the morning, he 
would get his bearings, find the car and head home.

He heard the shadow before he felt the blow to his head.

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

Metropolis, New Troy

Clark Kent stood at the kitchen counter chopping carrots for the 
stew he was preparing.

"It's a good thing that you learned how to use one of those slow 
cooker things, Clark," Lois shouted from the living room where 
she was dusting the bookshelves. "It would be a shame if you 
didn't know how to use it considering we got two of them as 
wedding gifts."

"No problem, Lois. All I had to do was read the instruction 
booklet and follow the recipe. And you don't have to shout, I can 
hear you perfectly."

"I forgot," she said, her voice quieter. "When we're this 
domestic I don't think of you as being 'super,' and it's so 
natural to raise my voice when you're in another room. I'll learn 
eventually." Lois had moved from the living room into the doorway 
of the kitchen as she was speaking. She liked to watch her 
husband work in the kitchen of their new home. He seemed so much 
more at ease in that room than she ever would be.

She moved toward his back and put her arms around his waist. "You 
are so good at this cooking stuff. I think that's the real reason 
I married you."

"Oh, I thought it was my country boy charms." He turned around to 
kiss her, but in mid-motion, he stopped.

"What?"

Clark was quiet for a few seconds. Lois recognized what she 
called his listening stance. He kissed her quickly and stepped 
away. "Neighbour's radio. Earthquake in a remote province in 
China. It sounds pretty bad."

"Then you better go." She motioned with her fingers for him to do 
his "spin thing". In less than a second, Superman stood in front 
of her.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Just add the carrots and some 
soup stock and turn the knob on the cooker to low. Put the lid on 
and don't touch it until I come back."

Four hours later, Lois lifted the lid on the slow cooker and 
stirred the ingredients in the pot. The vegetables and the beef 
looked pretty much the same, and then she remembered that she was 
supposed to add some soup stock. She wasn't quite sure where to 
find that. She looked in the fridge, but she didn't see it there. 
On a whim, she looked in the freezer. Martha had filled the 
freezer as a going back to work present for the newlywed couple, 
but there was nothing labelled as stock. That left the pantry. 
Cans of soup? She checked the labels wondering if consomme was 
the same as soup stock. Deciding to be brave, she opened a can 
and filled a measuring cup with the clear liquid, but it looked 
like more than some. She dumped half the stock into the sink and 
the rest into the slow cooker. She mixed the ingredients 
thoroughly, surprised at how little liquid was absorbed into the 
food. She covered the pot, and because she was hungry, she made 
herself a cheese sandwich.

After another four hours, Lois turned off the TV. Superman was 
still busy in China. The earthquake had caused major destruction 
in a fairly large village leaving too many homes demolished with 
their owners buried deep underneath the rubble. LNN was reporting 
that Superman had been zeroing in on areas where he could hear 
survivors and either help dig them out or instruct rescue workers 
where to dig. Reports were coming back about the many lives 
Superman was saving.

Lois went into the kitchen and looked at the stew in the slow 
cooker. Where were the enticing aromas that Clark managed to 
elicit when he was cooking? There was no aroma; there was no 
colour. The stew was still raw. She couldn't understand it. She 
checked the knob which was set at low, exactly as Clark had told 
her. The lid was on. She had put some liquid in the pot and 
stirred. Then she saw her problem. The plug was not in the 
socket. Simple. She plugged the cooker in, poured herself a glass 
of wine and returned to the TV to see what LNN was reporting on 
the earthquake.

When Clark returned, ten hours later, he was tired, dirty and 
excited. Sniffing the air, he wandered into the kitchen. The slow 
cooker was on Low, but when he lifted the lid, the ingredients 
were dried out and burned around the edges. Not enough soup 
stock, he thought with a smile.

He approached Lois who had fallen asleep on the couch watching 
the news. He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Definitely 
didn't fall in love with you for your abilities in the kitchen," 
he whispered.

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

Huntsville, Ontario

Dr. David Morrow sped down the isolated concession road heading 
back towards town and the calm of his apartment. It had been a 
long night sitting up with Alice Kelly until she finally gave 
birth to her fourth child, a strapping nine pound boy. He would 
have preferred taking her to the hospital in town, but she 
refused adamantly, saying that she had given birth to her first 
three boys at home and she would do the same for her fourth. It 
wasn't her fault that Shawna Steeles, the midwife, had decided to 
go to her son's wedding in Toronto.

On his drive home, when David had seen the calm lake and swirling 
lights of the aurora borealis beckoning to him, he decided not to 
drive on, but to pull over. It was three in the morning. He 
didn't have anything more important to do, and he knew he was too 
pumped up to sleep after such an exciting night. Delivering 
babies and drinking lots of coffee did that to him. He parked the 
car. On a whim, he took out a beach towel that he kept in the 
trunk and took it to the flat rock beside the lake. He sat down 
to watch the lights.

He wasn't sure what had originally brought him to this summer 
town in Central Ontario, what kept him here: the lakes, the tall 
pines and the dancing lights...and the beautiful police sergeant. 
He sat down on the rock and watched the water undulate against 
the pebbly shore, and saw the muted greens, reds and purple 
flicker across the night sky. In the distance, other rocks jutted 
over the lake, the background silhouetted by the tall pines whose 
spicy aroma filtered by his nose like freshly perked coffee. 
Except for the occasional bird, the only sounds were the gentle 
wind and the lapping of the water.

Deciding to ignore the brisk fall weather, he gave into the urge 
to strip off his clothes and, with a yelp, he ran into the cold 
lake. Swimming with strong, sure strokes to the buoy, he touched 
it, then turned around and headed back to shore. He waded back to 
the rock where he had left the large beach towel to wrap around 
himself.

"Cold...cold...cold," he muttered and allowed himself to shiver, 
but the towel was doing its job and he huddled inside just 
watching nature at its most quiet. He scanned the peaceful 
panorama. In the distance, on top of one of the outcrops, a very 
large bird was taking flight. But as he strained his eyes, he 
realized that it wasn't a bird, it was a person, a woman who 
stretched her arms out at her sides, leapt up and then began the 
most graceful dive he had ever seen. Mesmerized, he watched the 
swirling lights accentuate her exquisite form as she brought her 
arms over her head and she plunged into the water. He looked for 
her, but he couldn't see her; instead, he only heard a muffled 
sound as if someone was vigorously stroking the water. Within 
seconds, the sound disappeared only to return again. He looked 
into the lake, trying to find some movement so that he could 
ascertain that she was fine. And then he saw the splash of a 
swimmer moving quickly toward the shore, turn around and head 
back to the other side of the lake outside his view. Was that 
her? It couldn't be. Not even an Olympic swimmer could move that 
quickly. But the streaks in the water kept returning, and as if 
transfixed, David could not move his eyes. Finally, the figure 
floated out of the water until it reached the peak of the outcrop 
where she set herself down. Incongruously, David thought, she 
picked up something, floated in the air, shook out her long hair, 
and covered herself.

"Wow," he said out loud. And the figure disappeared.

David sat back and tried to figure out what he saw. Was she an 
apparition? He'd heard the story the children told of Farmer 
Meyerson coming back from the dead to make sure that his wife 
never used his old barn. Maybe she was the stork celebrating the 
safe delivery of Baby Boy Kelly. Or maybe she was an angel trying 
out a human pastime? An angel, that was a nice thought.

"That's right, Morrow, now they'll all know you've completely 
gone 'round the bend," he said.

"Which bend?"

The voice was a whisper, a feathery, silky, erotic whisper.

He turned to look at the owner of the angelic voice.

"Don't turn around," the voice ordered, never changing its pitch.

"I'd like to see you," David said.

"Not possible."

"How did you know I was here?"

"I heard you."

"Oh!" That surprised David. He didn't think he had spoken that 
loudly. "Who are you?"

"A dream."

"Yours or mine?"

"Maybe both."

David sensed her move towards him, stand behind him. He stood up, 
keeping his back to her, afraid that if he turned around, she 
would disappear and leave him with so many questions. She took 
another step closer to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. 
He could feel her heat through the damp towel covering him.

"You're wet," she whispered. A shiver ran up David's spine.

Suddenly, he felt the towel dry and warm up. She had a magic 
touch; she really was an angel.

"I don't understand..." he mumbled.

"There's nothing to understand. When you wake, this will all have 
been a dream. You decide what kind of a dream you want."

"This isn't right," he protested as felt her hand glide over his 
shoulders and her lips place a feather- light kiss on the back of 
his neck.

"I can leave." She pulled back a step.

"No. Don't go." He paused a moment, reaching back to hold her 
hand. David knew he should tell her to leave, but what did he 
think was going to happen here? He wanted her to touch him, to 
continue pressing her lips on the back of his neck. He couldn't 
understand the frissons of heat running through his body. But he 
wanted to know her, understand her, even if she was dream.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Sometimes, it's better not to ask, better not to talk," she 
said. Her sultry voice made him shiver. "Look, the lights are 
fading. The show is over for tonight."

"Don't go." David heard the pleading in his voice. He couldn't 
let her go.

She placed her hand on his face and stepped around to look at 
him. He strained to see her, but her long, damp hair and the 
night's shadows created a veil that hid her from him. She placed 
her other hand on his cheek, gently pulling his face toward her. 
He allowed her to draw nearer, her lips coming closer to his. The 
kiss was tentative at first, two lips meeting for the first time, 
touching, withdrawing and touching again. He felt his heart beat 
faster as he, this time, kissed her demanding more than just a 
gentle encounter. He sought her hungrily, passionately and he 
breathed a sigh of relief when her tongue met his ready to 
explore new territory.

He didn't understand what was happening to them, but he felt a 
craving, a longing for this woman, whether real or not, that he 
had never experienced before. He knew in his heart that the love 
he wanted in a relationship wasn't there, he didn't expect it to 
be. And he, who had never condoned sex without love, felt a 
summons from this corporeal apparition that reached into the 
centre of his being drawing him to her. Even if he had wanted to 
move away from her, he couldn't have. While his mouth and hands 
touched her, his legs felt the same as the immovable Canadian 
Shield beneath him.

And so they stood there, beside the lapping lake under a moonless 
sky, the dancing lights having faded, sharing kisses and touches 
first slowly, then more frantically as they revealed new parts of 
their bodies to each other. He long ago had dropped the towel 
that had warmed him, for he no longer needed the outside warmth. 
She had undone the belt to her long robe which he then removed 
from her shoulders and let fall on the ground. They stood there 
facing each other. He couldn't believe that a woman could be so 
magnificent, that her satiny skin could give off a radiance that 
made him crave just for a touch of her.

She took his hand, leading him to a grassy patch not far from the 
rocky lakefront, and kneeling down on the grass, pulled him to 
her. He obeyed. In the darkness, they joined together, the only 
sounds their husky moans of satisfaction, their cries of 
pleasure, the laughter of delight.

When they were sated, she lay in his arms as he stroked her dry 
hair and planted random kisses on the top of her head. Heedless 
of the hard rock beneath him, he dozed off for a short while and 
when he awoke, she was beginning to rise.

"Where are you going?" he asked, not wanting to let her go.

"It's almost morning. I have to."

"No, please stay. Just a little longer."

"I can't. I'll turn into a pumpkin if I stay any longer." She 
bent over and placed a final kiss on his lips. "Good night, 
Prince Charming," she said and streaked into the sky.

"Who are you?" David whispered as he watched her silhouette 
disappear in the cold predawn air, and he shivered.

He reluctantly got up, dressed in the clothes he had so 
carelessly removed so long ago, picked up his towel and found the 
cloth belt of her robe lying on the ground. "Cinderella's glass 
slipper," he said to the air around him. He brought it to his 
nose; it smelled of her freshness.

He got into the car heading for town, wondering if he would ever 
find his Cinderella and return her belt.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep, he drove into the local 
donut shop for a cup of coffee and a muffin. It wasn't worth 
going home to sleep at 5:30 in the morning.

"Mornin', Doc," said Sheila Johnson. "You're up early, this 
morning."

"No, Sheila, I haven't been to bed yet. Alice Kelly had her 
fourth son early this morning."

"Well then, Doc, the coffee's on me. What else will ya have?"

"A blueberry muffin looks good and filling."

"Sure thing. They're fresh outta the oven."

Sheila poured the coffee and placed a muffin in a bag.

David turned when he heard the door open. "Hey, Anna, how come 
you're in so early this morning?" he asked his part-time boss.

"Hmmpff."

"Sheila, quick, a coffee for Anna before she bites all our heads 
off and gives us all parking tickets."

David was blessed with an infamous Anna scowl. He put his hands 
in front of him, palms outwards showing that he was backing off. 
The last thing he wanted this morning was to face Anna when she 
was in a nasty mood. He didn't want anything to ruin his 
afterglow. Picking up his coffee and muffin, he headed out the 
door toward his clinic.

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

Smallville, Kansas

"Son, tell us again how you found this spaceship," said Jonathan 
Kent as he stood with his wife, son and daughter-in-law in the 
barn staring at a spaceship that was similar in size and shape to 
the one he had found thirty years earlier.

"I was flying in concentric circles outward from the epicentre of 
the earthquake looking and listening for signs of life, for 
anyone who needed help. I often do that during a disaster. 
Sometimes, someone gets trapped further away from where most of 
the damage occurred. I hadn't seen or heard anything for a few 
minutes, so I was thinking about heading back to speak to the 
rescue workers.

"For some reason, probably like when you hear your own name 
spoken by people far away, something caught my attention. The 
greyish, metallic hues seemed incongruous in the brown earth, 
like high tech in the middle of a rocky wilderness. When I flew 
in closer, I recognized the shape and then the etchings which 
were the same as the glyphs I had seen on my own spaceship. At 
first, I tried to figure out what my spaceship was doing in 
central China, but as I got closer, I realized that it wasn't the 
same. It didn't have the S-shield on it. Otherwise, you can see 
for yourselves, it's exactly the same."

Lois brushed her hand over the writing on the ship. "Do you have 
any idea of what it says?"

"No." He put his hand on Lois's and squeezed gently. They turned 
simultaneously and looked each other in the eyes.

"What does it mean?"

Martha's question snapped him back to the object of their 
discussion. "That I wasn't the only one who came here. I might 
not be the only one."

"Maybe there's some clue inside like the globe Clark found on his 
own spaceship," Jonathan suggested.

Clark stood staring at the miniature-sized capsule a few seconds 
longer. Everyone else stood by silently, waiting patiently for 
Clark to unveil some clue that he wasn't alone in this world.

His hands lovingly examined the spaceships surface, searching 
every inch carefully for a latch or a handle that would open the 
hood. He remembered that his proximity to his own capsule had 
opened it. Nothing was budging.

"Mom. Dad. Do either of you remember how my capsule opened?"

"No dear," Martha said. "It was open when we first saw it and 
there you were, so beautiful, wrapped in your blue blanket..."

"Martha! Not now, dear."

Clark ignored his parents, once more running his hand over the 
hood of the capsule. He looked at Lois hopefully; she nodded to 
him. As his fingers felt the smooth surface, it went over a 
small, almost imperceptible gap. He pressed gently around the 
gap, and slowly, he heard a pop of air.

He stepped back and watched as the hood lifted.

"Oh my goodness," Martha gasped as she moved closer.

Lois, grasping Clark's hand, moved closer to her husband.

As Clark stood and stared at the opened space capsule, Martha 
broke the silence. "You'd think we would have known if there was 
someone else like you out there."

"Maybe not," said Clark as he stared inside the ship. "It looks 
like this person didn't make it." He touched the fragile blanket 
that covered the skeletal remains of what must have once been a 
baby.

"He wasn't as lucky as I was."

Martha and Jonathan stepped forward to put their arms around 
their son.

"Instead of becoming a life raft, the ship became a coffin," 
Martha said. "Poor child. Probably never knew what happened."

The family stood around the small ship, each mourning the child 
who never had a chance to live.

Lois was the first to move, searching the ship for some kind of a 
clue to what happened. "Is there something like the globe here?"

Clark used his x-ray vision to scan the inside of the cradle. 
"No. Nothing." His voice was barely a whisper.

Once again the Kent family stood staring at what could have been, 
looking for answers to questions that wouldn't be available to 
them, which had been buried and would have to remain buried.

"What are you going to do with this now?" asked Jonathan. "Do you 
want me to help you bury it?"

"No. Maybe there's still more to learn," Clark said looking at 
Lois.

"Dr. Klein?" asked Lois as if she was reading Clark's mind.

"He'd be able to give us more information about the remains. At 
least he'd be able to tell us if the baby had Kryptonian DNA, 
maybe how the baby died, and how long it's been on Earth."

"Clark, if you take this to Dr. Klein and he finds out that this 
baby arrived here thirty years ago, he may put two and two 
together and realize that you've been on Earth much longer than 
he's suspected," Martha said.

"That's right, Clark. Dr. Klein is a very bright man," his father 
added.

"I know. Dad, Mom. Lois and I have talked about letting Dr. Klein 
know who I am, and it may be something he'll need to know. I..." 
he took Lois's hand, "...we trust him."

"He's a scientist son..."

Clark heard the old fear in his father's voice. 'He'll dissect 
you like a frog.' "Dad, there's nothing to worry about. Dr. Klein 
knows a lot about Superman and only does what I ask him. He's 
never let me down before."

Jonathan nodded his head. "If you trust him, son, then I do, 
too."

Once Clark and Jonathan had put the coverings back on the tiny 
spaceship, Clark cradled it gently and took off into the sky. 
Within a half an hour, he returned.

"I've left it with Doc Klein. He says that it will take time to 
run tests on it. I'll get in touch with him to find the results."

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

Metropolis, New Troy A Week Later

Clark spun out of his Superman suit and entered the Daily Planet. 
Glancing around the bullpen, he spotted Lois in the conference 
room with a woman who was in tears. Lois caught his eye and 
motioned for him to come into the conference room.

"Clark, this is Shelley Hamilton. She's a college friend of 
mine," she explained as soon as Clark closed the door.

"Ms Hamilton." Clark held out his hand, but Shelley was too 
distraught to notice.

"Shelley came to see me because her husband's been missing for a 
week, and she doesn't know what to make of it."

"Did she go to the police?"

"She went to Missing Persons. They took the pertinent 
information, but they keep on hinting that maybe he took off with 
another woman and he doesn't want to be found."

"Why would they think that?"

"Because he packed to go away for the week-end, and he hasn't 
come back."

"Would you mind going over your story for me one more time?" 
Clark asked.

Shelley Hamilton glanced over at Lois and then at Clark. "If it 
will help finding Jeremy, I don't mind. It's just so 
frustrating."

Lois patted her friend's hand and nodded. "Go ahead. I'll take 
notes while you tell us."

"Jeremy packed up a bag with a few overnight items and said that 
he'd be back in a couple of days. He occasionally had to go out 
of town for a few nights on business, but he had more time to 
prepare than he did this time. The other major difference was 
that he only packed pyjamas, underwear and toothbrush, 
toothpaste, things like that. He wore jeans, a plaid flannel 
shirt and a lightweight ski jacket. Usually when he goes on 
business, even overnight, he wears a business suit and takes a 
couple of extra shirts."

"What does Jeremy do for a living?" Clark asked.

"He's an accountant." Shelley waited for a moment to see if Clark 
wanted any additional information related to Jeremy's work, but 
when she saw that he wasn't asking anything, she continued. "He 
told me that he'd be back in a few days, and that he'd call me if 
he could. He never called, and he never came back."

"When did you start to get worried?"

"He left on Thursday night. On Monday, our son, Matthew, had an 
important basketball game and Jeremy promised to be there at the 
game. Jeremy always made it to games and recitals and plays for 
the kids. If he couldn't make it, he usually phoned to let us 
know what was happening. He didn't this time."

"So what did you do?"

"I phoned Denise, his secretary, and asked if she knew how to 
contact him. She said that she didn't. He had let her know on 
Thursday that he wouldn't be at work on Friday and that he'd be 
back on Monday. She didn't have a clue where he went. She thought 
he was having a long week-end at home because he'd put in all 
those extra hours a few weeks back for an important client."

"Who was the client?"

"I don't know. Jeremy didn't talk about the specifics of his job 
with me. He wanted to forget about work when he came home."

"Was anything bothering him? Were you fighting or anything?"

"No. We get along really well." Shelley stilled. Then tears began 
flowing down her cheeks. It was the first time that she had 
broken down in front of the two reporters. "The police," Shelley 
hiccoughed, "also wanted to know if we were fighting or if we had 
a bad marriage." She dug in her purse and pulled out a tissue. 
"You have to believe me. We're happy. We love each other. There 
is nothing wrong with the marriage. Sometimes we disagree with 
the way one of us handles a situation with the children or about 
some financial issue, but we generally don't have major fights."

"Was anything upsetting Jeremy before he disappeared?" Lois 
asked.

"Nothing unusual. His brother was calling more often than he had 
in the past, but he tended to do that when he got one of his 
harebrained ideas into his head." Shelley fiddled with her purse. 
"Jeremy did seem to get annoyed…no, not annoyed…agitated after he 
spoke to Emil."

"Emil? Emil Hamilton?" Lois and Clark both asked at the same 
time.

"Do you know Emil?"

"We came into contact with Emil years ago when he was cloning 
gangsters."

"Not one of his finest hours," said Shelley.

"Not one of mine, either," replied Clark, looking regretfully at 
Lois.

"We dealt with that a long time ago, honey," she said as she 
squeezed his hand. "Who knows what Emil is up to these days? 
Where can we get in touch with him?"

"It won't help. He's in Met General. He had a stroke and right 
now he can't speak or move his left side. The doctors say there's 
a good chance that he'll recover his speech, but it may take 
several months."

"Why do I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that this 
involves Emil?" asked Clark.

"We'll do what we can, Shelley, but we can't promise anything," 
offered Lois.

"Meanwhile keep reminding the police and keep in touch with us. 
If we find anything out, we'll let you know."

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

Algonquin Park, Ontario One Month Later

Loon's Road, a paved two lane road ended and forked in three 
different directions, each dirt road, whose tracks had been 
carved by years of summer vacationers heading toward cabins and 
cottages, led to Loon Lake. In the summer months, the lake, 
surrounded by tall pine trees, was a busy place with children 
splashing and screaming in the water, motor-boats dragging 
athletic water-skiers, wind-surfers skimming the lake and the 
occasional fisherman hoping for a bite in the early morning 
hours. Once the summer season ended, the boats were pulled in and 
the docks were taken apart until the following spring. The lake 
froze over and the paths leading from Loon's Road were abandoned 
to the falling leaves and then the accumulating snow.

Sergeant Anna McLaren of the Ontario Provincial Police drove up 
to the fork in Loon's Road and found the rusty Honda Civic 
sitting exactly where Shawna Steeles had told her it would be. 
Shawna had reported that she had seen the car when she drove out 
to the Bryson place over the course of the month. Nancy Bryson 
was pregnant and due to give birth. When she mentioned the Honda 
to Luke Bryson, he agreed that the car hadn't moved in a month, 
but he didn't think too much of it. Neither Shawna nor Luke had 
any idea who the car belonged to or how long the car had been 
sitting there.

When Anna reached the car, it was covered in browned maple leaves 
that had fallen and then been plastered down by the first 
snowfall. She took out the Polaroid camera from her car and began 
to snap pictures. She then put on a pair of surgical gloves, 
methodically cleared away the debris and opened the driver's 
side. The car wasn't locked. Surprisingly, the key was still in 
the ignition. The gas tank was three-quarters full and there was 
no indication that there was anything wrong with the oil. She 
started up the engine. No problem. The car ran smoothly.

Anna took Polaroids of the interior of the car which had personal 
items--- a toothbrush, toothpaste, a pair of men's pyjamas size 
large, a razor--- scattered on the front seat, but no suitcase, 
backpack or even a plastic grocery bag. As she continued to 
search, she found a few gas receipts and a mixture of Canadian 
and American coins that had fallen between the cushions of the 
seat .

According to Shawna, the car hadn't moved in at least four weeks. 
Anna called Hank Jenkins to tow the car to the OPP's back lot for 
the time being. While she waited for Hank to appear, she bagged 
the contents of the car, then walked around the car to write down 
the license plate number.

However, there were no plates on the car, either on the front or 
the back. She peered closely at the front. No discoloration or 
evidence that a license plate was ever on the front. That meant 
that the car was out of province since Ontario cars carried 
plates on both the front and the back of the car.

The back area of the car had evidence of wear and rust where 
there had once been a license plate. Anna brushed away the snow 
from the bumper and found a bolt. She held the lone bolt in her 
hand, tossing it lightly in the air. If there was one, there must 
be more. She looked around the snow covered ground, then bent 
down sweeping away the accumulated layers of snow. More nuts and 
bolts. She figured the plate had been taken after the car had 
been abandonned.

Well, even if there were no plates, there should be a 
registration number. The glove compartment was empty. Not even 
the ubiquitous owner's manual was there. To her frustration, the 
registration number etched in the car had been filed away. 
Nothing.

Back in her office, Anna decided that, for once, doing the paper 
work might help her figure out what the story behind the 
abandonned Civic was. But first, she told her assistant, Pete 
Byford, to check with the auto theft database if any cars were 
reported missing in the area.

Organizing the facts and evidence as she knew it, along with the 
Polaroids she had taken, was like shovelling snow in a blizzard, 
as soon as one patch was cleared up it was covered in snow again. 
Anna was sure that whoever abandonned the car didn't want its 
owner to be found. No plates, no registration number, no 
ownership papers.

She stared at the bags on her desk. Crest toothpaste, Gillette 
shaving cream, a Bic razor, Head and Shoulders shampoo. The guy 
she was looking for had dandruff...or according to the 
commercials, no longer had dandruff. She smirked at the 
ridiculousness of her observation.

But something drew her to the items...something not right. She 
flattened the bag of coins on her desk and, keeping the money in 
the bag, began to separate the American from the Canadian coins. 
"Damn those pennies," she said aloud.

Anna leaned back, replaiting her single, dark brown braid and 
letting it fall down to the middle of her back. She kept staring 
at the toothpaste. "That's it! There's no French." She stood up 
and went to the door of her office.

"Pete," she called.

"Yes, Sergeant."

"Expand your search for missing vehicles into the States."

"Why ma'am?"

"The driver was American," she said lifting the bag of toothpaste 
in front of his eyes.

"American?"

"No French on the packaging...on anything."

Pete smiled at his superior. "I'll expand that search 
immediately."

Anna returned to her desk, picking up the coins and shaking them 
up. She wondered how much it mattered that the driver may have 
been American. Probably complicated everything more.

"Boss," the familiar voice of David Morrow interrupted her 
thoughts which, she thought weren't going anywhere in particular.

"Dr. Morrow, I'm not your boss. How many times do I have to tell 
you? You're an independent contractor hired by the police 
department."

"And you hired me, Boss."

"No. I didn't. The province of Ontario did."

"Represented by you" Ignoring her sneer, he sat down on the chair 
facing her desk. "And in this envelope I have..." He drummed his 
fingers on the desk, a poor imitation of a drum roll. "...Jesse 
Sherman's death certificate." He placed the envelope on her desk.

"Heart attack, right?"

"I'm wounded. You didn't have to slave over the medical books, 
hours of interning, residency..."

"The whole town knew that Jesse was a walking time-bomb, a heart 
attack waiting to happen."

"And your point is?"

Tired of the silly bantering, Anna waved the envelope at David. 
"You didn't have to bring this over personally. You could have 
sent it over with your receptionist."

"I needed a break, and I was hoping that you'd come out for 
dinner with me. Swiss Chalet is offering a Toblerone chocolate 
bar with a quarter chicken dinner for only $6.95."

Just as Anna was going to remind him that she had told him at 
least a dozen times that she wouldn't go out on a date with him, 
David said, "It's not a date. It's business."

"What kind of business?"

"Maybe I can help you figure out who the Honda Civic belongs to."

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

Huntsville, Ontario

As they sat in a quiet corner of the busy Swiss Chalet 
restaurant, Anna couldn't figure out how David always managed to 
insinuate himself into her life rather than take the hint that 
she didn't want to date him. Hint! There was no hint. She had 
told him directly, more than once, that she wasn't interested in 
dating, so he came up with all different kinds of lame plans, 
ones she couldn't resist, to spend time with her. Talking about 
the Honda Civic was one of them. She'd reminded him of his 
purpose a few times already, but he had been avoiding the issue, 
using the time instead to talk about everything and nothing. Now 
they were ordering coffee, and he still hadn't mentioned the car.

"Morrow, do you know anything about the Civic or is this your 
slimy way of using this meal as a tax write-off?"

"Anna, I'm wounded that you'd even think that way. If I wanted to 
write off this meal, I would've talked to you about all the 
plaque I found in Jesse Sherman's arteries."

"Do you know anything about the Civic? Have you seen it before?"

"No."

"Then what kind of games are you playing?"

"I'm not playing games. I have some ideas that I thought I'd 
share with you."

"Such as..."

"Such as have you thought of checking through Wrecks For Lease."

"Why?"

"No one reported that car missing, right?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Well, then maybe an individual didn't lose his car, but then 
maybe because the body was in such lousy condition, maybe he got 
it from a Wreck For Lease..."

"So that he could dump it?"

"That's where I'm having problems. I can't figure out why he 
dumped it here, in the middle of nowhere..."

"And took off with the plates? So all I need to do is check out 
the Wrecks For Lease places..."

"You know, we do work well together."

Anna rolled her eyes. "You haven't helped me out that much. I've 
got Pete looking into car rental agencies."

"Well then, maybe you should stop using these stupid work excuses 
as a reason to spend time with me. After all, Anna, I wouldn't be 
completely adverse to taking you out on a proper date. You know. 
We dress up, go somewhere nice. I tell you you're handsome, and 
you say I'm beautiful. Things like that."

"What's your point?"

"Go out with me."

"I told you, I don't date."

"That makes no sense at all. You're single, you're 
beautiful...now don't make that face...and you're smart. I'm 
single, a professional and my mother says that I'm good-looking."

"David, I'm not interested." She took out her wallet and threw 
some money on the table. "That should cover my half."

"You know there's something between us," he said to her back. 
Anna stopped for a nanosecond, then stood taller and headed out 
the door.

He leaned back in his seat. There was something between them, he 
knew it and he knew that she knew it. He'd never met such a 
desirable woman before, and it wasn't just because she didn't 
want to have anything to do with him. He'd wear away at her 
slowly and hope that no competition would show up.

As he waited for the credit card receipt, his mind drifted, as it 
often had over the past month, to his Cinderella he'd met so many 
nights ago. It was interesting how time put things in perspective 
and, at the same time thwarted reality. Time had told him what 
he'd only suspected then: he'd been dreaming, well, except for 
the belt that he kept in his night table. The moment he had had 
with Cinderella was just that--a moment, an early morning fantasy 
surrounding him in a heavenly aura. He didn't want her back. He 
wanted Anna. If only...Sighing, he signed the receipt and 
followed her out of the restaurant.

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

Metropolis, New Troy

When Clark returned to their Hyperion Avenue home, Lois was at 
her desk talking on the phone. He was surprised to hear her 
speaking soothingly. She waved him over, and as he perched 
himself at the edge of her desk, he listened as she placated the 
caller. How unlike his Lois, who had no patience for most people 
and who had one of the most abrupt telephone personas he'd ever 
encountered.

It didn't take him long to figure out why her tone was so 
understated. She was talking to Shelley Hamilton, who was doing 
everything to maintain her own calm and keep her family going. He 
glanced at the calendar on his wife's desk. Three months had 
passed since Jeremy Hamilton had gone missing. Lois and Clark had 
turned over every possible stone without finding anything that 
would help. Clark still believed that the answer lay locked 
inside Emil Hamilton who had been moved to a nursing home. The 
doctors said that his speech would probably never return. At this 
point, he was disoriented and only made sounds that didn't seem 
to have any logical meaning.

Lois clasped Clark's hand as she promised for the hundredth time 
that she would let Shelley know if she heard any news. As she 
hung up the phone, Clark signalled her to follow him to the couch 
in the living room. He wrapped his arms around her allowing her 
to snuggle into him as he soothed her.

"It's awful, Clark. How can she carry on?"

"She's got two young children. She has no choice."

"If you disappeared like that I'd shut down completely."

"So would I." He brought her closer to him, placing light kisses 
in her hair. He wasn't so sure that Lois would shut down. Knowing 
his wife, she'd probably move heaven and earth to find out what 
had happened to him. But he knew that this wasn't about Lois and 
him, it was about Lois empathizing with Shelley.

They sat in silence for a short time just feeling better that 
they could be in each other's arms.

"Bernie's finished all the tests," Clark finally said.

"He did? Why didn't you say something sooner?" Lois sat up 
straight, looking her husband in the eye.

"I thought you needed me to hold you for a while...and I think 
that I needed it, too."

"I did. We did. But now I want to hear what he had to say."

"Well, first of all, the remains belonged to an infant girl. 
Kryptonian."

"You weren't the only one who landed on earth!"

"So it seems. He also said that the baby wasn't related to me. 
DNA didn't match."

"What else did he say?"

"The space ship has been on earth for approximately thirty 
years..."

"The same length of time that you've been here..."

"And it's made out of the same material as my space ship." Clark 
got up and began to pace.

"Clark? Maybe you weren't supposed to be alone all those years. 
Maybe she was supposed to be with you?"

Clark stared at Lois. "It would've been nice to have someone like 
me while I was growing up, but I believe that you are my soul 
mate. No one else could take your place."

"But you've lost someone here."

"Maybe a sister. Maybe a friend. I did lose someone I never knew 
I had to lose." He sat beside Lois again, and this time she held 
him in her arms, trying to make up for this impalpable loss. "For 
a moment, I wasn't the only one here, and now, once again, I'm 
the only Kryptonian on earth."

Lois pulled him closer to her, settling light kisses on his head. 
"Which makes you even more special since you've traveled" a long 
way to be with me." She turned his face towards her. Looking 
intently into his eyes, she moved her lips toward his.

Their lips touched tenderly. She brushed her tongue over his lips 
until he opened his mouth. Surrounded by his scent and taste, she 
became enveloped in his kiss, letting him linger for a while.

As they kissed, Lois tried to show her love that she would never 
let him be alone again. And she thought about the baby whose 
parents tried to save her.

"Did you ever think of doing a search for someone who would be 
like you?" Lois asked.

"I tried, but the kind of information that I had wasn't helpful. 
Would he have been adopted or are there other ways a child could 
be hidden in a family? Would he even be the same age as me? I was 
around three months old when my parents found me. What if the 
child was older? I found the space ship in China. It could have 
landed anywhere in the world. A ship could've landed in the ocean 
and sunk. I even looked in newspapers to see if there was a light 
phenomena such as the one in Smallville when my space ship 
crashed to the ground. Nothing."

Lois shrugged her shoulders. "Let's keep looking. Maybe there's 
some chance."

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

Huntsville, Ontario

Anna McLaren stood over the remains, scanning the area around 
her. This looked like the big case she'd always hoped for, but 
the decomposed body in front of her reminded her of the old 
saying: be careful what you wish for.

"Call Doc Morrow," she said to Pete Byford. "Tell him we've got a 
body that needs a post mortem."

She then turned to Luke Bryson. "Tell me again how you found the 
body."

"Like I said, I was comin' over to the summer camp. I do this 
every May. I clean up the outside, rake the leaves, pull weeds, 
you know, and when the weather gets warm enough, I put in the 
docks. I was comin' over behind their dining hall to pick up some 
tools I left in the shed when I tripped over this bump on the 
path. It was all covered in leaves and twigs. I looked down at 
it, and I saw that hand. Then I took this here shovel and scraped 
some of the coverin' off and I saw the head. That's when I called 
your office."

"Do you usually clean up after the camp is shut down?"

"Yup."

"When did you do that?"

"Last October."

"Do you remember the date?"

"Nope. Just that it was right after Thanksgivin' cuz the 
counsellors come up for the week-end and after that I shut down. 
I don' like waitin' long after that cuz the frost can warp the 
dock."

"Anybody been up here between shut down and today?"

"Not that I know of. Maybe a hunter or somethin'. I could see if 
anyone was in any of the buildin's."

"Go ahead and do that, but if you see something different, don't 
touch anything. Call one of us."

Anna watched Luke stride off toward the camp buildings. This was 
a summer camp for kids. Why would there be a body buried under a 
pile of leaves and twigs? Someone didn't have time to dig a grave 
or didn't care to.

"Damn," she said to no one in particular.

Within a half an hour, David Morrow had driven up in the town 
hearse. Working in tandem with the police, he prepared to move 
the body to the morgue. As he worked, he made off-handed 
observations to Anna.

"There's been decay here which means that he was here before the 
cold weather really set in."

"Can you give me a date?"

He smiled impishly at her. "Are you asking me for a change?"

"Come on, Morrow. You know what I mean."

"If you want an approximate date, I'd say before the middle of 
November, but you'd have to check a calendar for the first frost 
and the last warm day. I can't tell from looking how many days he 
was decomposing."

David scraped away the covering of leaves and twigs from the 
body, trying to loosen ones that had stuck to the decomposing 
flesh. "Come here. Look at this," he said to Anna. As she 
crouched down beside him, her foot slipped on a wet leaf, and she 
teetered to the side. He reached out, placing his hand on her 
elbow to brake her fall. As he held onto her, ensuring that she 
was maintaining her balance, he noticed her eyes avoiding his.

"I'm all right," she said shrugging his hand off her elbow.

He stared at her a moment longer and then turned his attention 
back to the body in front of them. "Look," he said. "There's an 
indentation at the back of his skull. He may have been hit with 
something. I'll need to get the body back to the morgue before I 
can let you know more."

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

Metropolis, New Troy

Clark shut down the computer and joined Lois in the living room.

"Anything?" she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "There really isn't too much 
information. Basically, I've been looking for someone in the US 
who was adopted around May 1966." He shrugged again. "And then 
that really isn't enough because the baby, if it even existed, 
could have been older or younger, or not even adopted. Look how 
obscure my papers are."

"So look for unaccounted super saves."

"I'm not sure that will help. My early saves went unreported."

"I'll help."

"Thanks, honey." Clark moved closer to Lois, enfolding her in his 
arms. "I have to admit that I believe that the only other 
spaceship that landed was the one I found in China. I can't 
understand why someone who also has the same, or even some of the 
same powers, wouldn't have contacted Superman once he appeared. 
It's been four years now."

"If it were me, I'd be curious to meet the person who was related 
to me. You're probably right, but I think that you have to turn 
over every stone before you give up."

"You actually want me to obsess about something?"

"Sometimes, my love, obsession pays off."

"Like my obsession for you?"

"Exactly." She reached up and brought his face toward hers, 
luxuriating in the softness of his kiss.

The ringing of the phone separated them. Lois reluctantly got up 
from the couch, heading toward the phone. "It must be Jimmy."

Laughing, Clark reached for his wife's hand as she picked up the 
receiver.

Lois's end of the conversation was a series of single word 
replies and a final, "I'll go with you."

"That was Shelley Hamilton," she explained to Clark. "Missing 
Persons called her, saying that a body of a man who fits Jeremy's 
description was found in Canada. They're not sure if it's him, 
but she wants to go up and see what they have. I told Shelley I'd 
go with her."

"Do you want me to come along? I mean, if it's Jeremy, then 
Shelley might need more help…"

Lois thought for a minute. "No. Don't come up with us. I'll call 
if I need you and you can..." She made a wave motion with her 
hand indicating their signal for flying.

"Are you sure?"

"I think that Shelley needs a friend and not a reporter right 
now. The trip will give us a chance to talk."

"All right. When do you plan to leave?'

'As soon as possible. Shelley's making arrangements for her 
kids."

"I'll let Perry know. You go pack."

******************Huntsville, Ontario

Early the next morning, Lois and Shelley, each carrying an 
overnight bag, walked into the local provincial police station. 
The officer at the front desk escorted them to a small office and 
offered them coffee after telling them that Sergeant McLaren was 
expected back soon.

Lois sat beside Shelley, holding her hand. It had been a while 
since they had spoken. Lois let Shelley sit with her grief, not 
sure if she wanted Jeremy's body to be the one that they found or 
not. She wondered which she would choose: to know definitely that 
her husband was dead, or to live for months with hope that he 
could still be alive somewhere. It wasn't an easy choice.

Lois looked around the room. It resembled many other police 
offices that she had seen. In the center of the small room, there 
was a desk with a computer. One comfortable chair rested behind 
the desk while two other chairs flanked the other side. Along one 
wall was a credenza piled with an assortment of papers and 
folders. Two filing cabinets were on the opposite wall. A 
Canadian flag hung limply in one corner. Several pictures were 
hanging on the wall: a group picture of officers in uniform, some 
newspaper stories framed with pictures of an attractive woman, 
about her age, wearing a police uniform. Lois assumed that was 
McLaren. Another wall held three citations for acts of bravery 
and two university degrees.

Lois leaned over and picked up a photograph from the desk. Unlike 
the ones on the wall, this one was a group shot of a family, the 
middle-aged parents flanked by their adult children. One female 
in the group stood out. Unlike the other members of the group who 
either had light brown or blonde hair, the woman had dark brown, 
almost black, hair that cascaded past her shoulders. Her olive 
complexion contrasted with the fair-skinned family.

Lois looked up and saw the same woman, this time wearing the 
uniform of the Ontario Provincial Police, her hair neatly 
controlled in a single French braid, walk forward, extending her 
hand to Lois.

"Anna McLaren," she said.

"Lois Lane, Daily Planet," Lois said, returning McLaren's no 
nonsense handshake. "This is Shelley Hamilton."

Shelley looked up and reached for McLaren's hand.

"I guess you want to know what we found, Mrs. Hamilton," McLaren 
said, not wasting any time.

McLaren sat down next to Shelley. She ignored Lois, focussing 
completely on the woman beside her. "The body of a man, 
Caucasian, six feet tall, approximately 200 pounds was found near 
the Loon Lake Road last week," she said, in a hushed voice. "The 
man, according to the coroner, has been dead since the middle of 
October of last year. He was hit on the back of the head by what 
appears to be a shovel. This blow to the head killed him. The 
coroner believes that the impact was so hard that death was 
instantaneous. There is no evidence that the body was moved so 
we're assuming that he was killed there. "

While McLaren was speaking, Shelley sat rigidly, a few tears 
flowing from her eyes. The police officer handed her a tissue and 
then got up to pour her a glass of water. She waited a few 
seconds as Shelley sipped the drink.

"We're not sure that this is your husband, Mrs. Hamilton. 
Identification of the body isn't going to be easy." McLaren 
paused looking at Shelley and Lois. "It's been out in the open 
for seven months so it doesn't look like..." McLaren paused when 
Shelley inhaled. "Look, Mrs. Hamilton, I'm sorry but there's no 
easy way to say this." She looked over at Shelley who nodded 
understanding. "It's next to impossible to recognize the body as 
anyone. We're going to have to look at the clothes that he was 
wearing or DNA..."

"Do I have to look at the b...at it?" Shelley asked in a tiny 
voice.

"Not yet. Maybe not at all."

"Can we get to the point here, Sergeant?" Lois interrupted. "Is 
there something that you have to go on or are you just..."

"No, Ms Lane. First of all, even though generally the body fits 
the description sent out by the Metropolis Police, it may not be 
him. So there are also some questions that I have to ask." She 
turned away from Lois. "Why would Mr. Hamilton be up here?"

Shelley looked at McLaren incredulously and shrugged her 
shoulders. "I...I...have no idea."

"Has he ever been in this area before?"

"Yes, a few times. The last time was a few years ago. We came up 
to Loon Lake Lodge for a week. We were talking about sending the 
boys up here to summer camp."

"Did your husband talk to you about visiting this area?"

"We talked about taking another holiday here."

"Why?"

"Because we liked the countryside, the peacefulness. It was so 
unlike the rush in Metropolis. Jeremy felt like he could slow 
down. He even wanted to buy a cottage on a lake here, but I 
didn't want to. It was too far from home, too isolated."

"Did he have a specific cottage in mind?"

"No. He just wanted to be on one of the lakes."

McLaren paused as Shelley Hamilton wiped her tears, then she 
reached into her desk drawer and brought out an evidence bag. She 
placed it in front of Shelley.

"Do you recognize these?" she asked, her voice softer, more 
sympathetic than before.

Shelley gasped. Then the tears flowed unchecked. She attempted to 
get words out, but she only choked out incomprehensible sounds.

Lois, who had been standing at the side, approached Shelley and 
put her arms around her friend. The reality of Jeremy Hamilton's 
murder and Shelley's loss were visible in front of her, in the 
form of the evidence bag containing a man's watch and a wedding 
band.

Lois heard McLaren quietly leave the office. In a way, she wished 
that the police officer hadn't because she wasn't sure how she 
could help her friend. So she just sat there and held her hand as 
Shelley's tears rolled down her cheeks.

Later, when the first onrush of tears had slowed down, Shelley 
whispered hoarsely, "What am I supposed to do now?"

"I'm not sure. Let me go check." She left Shelley's side, heading 
toward the door. "Or do you want me to stay?"

"No. Go find out. Please."

"You'll be all right alone?"

"I guess."

Lois left the office and found Sergeant McLaren talking to 
another officer. When she saw Lois, she came toward her.

"Shelley wants to know what she's supposed to do now."

"We're not going to ask her to identify the body, but we'd like 
to do some DNA tests just to be sure it's him. Either some hair 
follicles from a hair brush or a blood sample from one of the 
children…"

"She brought his hair brush just in case you needed it." Lois 
handed McLaren a baggie with the brush in it.

"We'll also need to keep the body here until we're sure, but Mrs. 
Hamilton can start making arrangements for the remains with our 
local undertaker." She handed Lois a business card. "There is 
also some paperwork that needs to be done."

She called a civilian worker over and quietly instructed the 
woman to make Mrs. Hamilton another cup of coffee and to help her 
fill in the forms.

"Sylvie, put a temporary flag on the file with Jeremy Hamilton's 
name, and take this hair brush to the lab."

Lois turned back towards McLaren's office.

"Ms. Lane," McLaren said, placing her hand on Lois's shoulder, 
"before you go I'd like to talk to you."

"Sure."

"Are you here with Mrs. Hamilton as a friend or a reporter?"

Lois searched McLaren's face to find the right answer to the 
question, but all she met was the police officer's neutral gaze.

"I'm Shelley's friend, but I'm also a reporter. I don't see that 
one excludes the other."

"I'd like to ask you not to report on what has gone here, at 
least not right now."

"Why?"

"There're too many unanswered questions. If information becomes 
public, it may hamper the investigation."

"But Jeremy Hamilton was murdered..."

"Ms. Lane, we're not even sure it is Jeremy Hamilton...not until 
we've done some more testing."

Lois heard the polite veneer in McLaren's voice leave as the 
woman slowed her speech and emphasized her words.

"But there's a story here."

"Probably. But there are too many unanswered questions. If your 
suspicions become public, it may hamper my investigation."

"What I do in Metropolis, where this story probably originates, 
has nothing to do with you here."

"It has everything to do with what we're doing here. I assume 
that you'd like to find out what happened to Hamilton and if 
there has been any wrong doing, the perpetrator found and 
convicted."

"Of course."

Even though McLaren was only a few inches taller than Lois, her 
solid frame made Lois feel as if the police officer loomed over 
her.

"Then once again, Ms. Lane, I'm asking you not to print 
anything."

"Are you going to be releasing the victim's name?"

"The official statement will be that a body was found on Loon 
Lake. There will be an investigation into the death. At this 
point, the story shouldn't be newsworthy in Metropolis."

"And if I write what we know at this time?"

"Then I'll make sure that you aren't privy to any more 
information."

"Shelley could fill me in on the details."

"She could if she knew any, but at this point she knows all that 
she has to. Anything else is a courtesy."

"Sergeant, I have a job to do and that's to report the truth, not 
to cover it up."

"Do you always print everything, or do you keep some of the so-
called truth covered up?"

"My editor and I decide what's newsworthy and what isn't."

"And I'm sure you know things that you don't even tell your 
editor." McLaren's eyes seared through Lois in a way that made 
her heart skip a beat. "This isn't a cover up," McLaren said 
quietly. "This is a police investigation. Don't get in the way, 
or I'll arrest you for obstruction of justice."

"Haven't you heard of the First Amendment? Of freedom of the 
press? You can't shut me out of this story."

"This is Canada. We don't have a First Amendment." McLaren turned 
abruptly and walked toward one of the other officers, dismissing 
Lois as she did.

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

"You're bristling, Lois," Clark said as he shifted the receiver 
to his other ear.

"Bristling? What does that mean? You're in Metropolis. I'm 500 
miles away in Nowheresville. How do you know I'm bristling?"

"Because I know you."

"Do you have a new power like supertelescopic vision?"

"No, honey." He chuckled amazed that her sense of the ridiculous 
was heightened when she came across a situation that set the 
hairs on her beautiful, long neck off in some direction. "I can 
hear it in your voice, the pauses, the way you described your 
talk with the police officer."


"She made me so angry," Lois said, a bit petulantly.

"What she said made sense...well, for a cop it did. Henderson 
would have said the same thing."

"I know that. It's just..." She paused. "It's just that she was 
so condescending. No. that's not right. I just got the feeling 
that she knows something I don't, and she's not going to tell me. 
I don't think I like her."

"About Jeremy's murder? Do you think she knows why he was up 
there?"

"I don't know. There's this air about her that she's laughing at 
me, and that I'll never be let in on the joke. Like when she said 
there's no First Amendment. There has to be. Canada is a 
democracy."

"Technically, Lois, freedom of the press is ensconced in their 
Charter of Rights and Freedoms. There is no First Amendment."

"Why that…She knew exactly what I meant." She lowered her voice. 
"Clark, I miss you."

"I miss you too, honey. The bed's so empty without you."

"Mine, too."

"I can be there in two minutes if you want."

"I want, but don't come. I'm sharing the room with Shelley...and 
as much as I need you, I think she needs me more."

"How's she doing?"

"As well as can be expected. Dealing with the details has given 
her something to focus on rather than her grief. She hasn't told 
the kids yet."

"How long can she keep quiet?"

"We're flying back to Metropolis in the morning. She'll tell them 
when they confirm it's Jeremy's body." She sniffled.

"Lois, honey, are you all right?"

"Yeah. It's just that sometimes I can't stop imagining how I'd 
feel if it were me, and you were missing, or even worse...Clark, 
I couldn't survive without you."

"It's not me. That can't happen. Don't worry about the 
impossible."

"In my head I know you're right. It's my heart." She sniffled 
again and took a deep breath. "I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow 
around noon. I'll come directly to the Planet."

"I love you, Lois."

"I love you, too, Clark."

Each held onto the phone for a moment longer, listening to the 
other breathe. Then, they each hung up.

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

"I miss you," she said. She traced the outline of his face with 
her finger, lingering over his neatly trimmed beard.

"I hear you finishing my sentences. Our plans. Your laughter." 
She touched his lips. "We laughed so well together. Especially 
when our plans fell into place." Her fingers caressed his cheek 
and outlined his brown eyes.

"Soon we'll laugh together. This plan will work. We've had a 
little set back. Soon we'll be back together again."

She raised the picture frame and placed her lips on the cold 
glass.

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

"The trail leads to Metropolis," Anna explained to her superior, 
Inspector Joe DeSantos, who was absently flipping through the 
file she had placed on his desk. "DNA evidence confirms that the 
victim was Jeremy Hamilton, a resident of Metropolis, New Troy."

"So we'll turn the investigation over to the Metropolis police 
and you can get back to your normal duties."

"No sir, I was hoping I could follow up in Metropolis. I have a 
few leads. His brother..."

"Sorry Sergeant, it doesn't work that way." DeSantos stood up and 
handed the file over to Anna.

"But sir, this is a murder investigation, a murder that took 
place in our jurisdiction."

"I know, but it's no longer in our jurisdiction."

"Then let me connect with the MPD, go down there and..."

"Make the connection by phoning down..."

"Inspector, I really want to follow this through. It's important 
to my career that I have a challenging homicide investigation 
under my belt."

"Is that why you want to go?"

"Yes. No. I want to follow through with this. It's personal."

"You're not listening, Sergeant. You can't go to Metropolis." De 
Santos walked around his desk. "If you think that we need someone 
down there, I'll tell Dr. Morrow to contact the MPD."

"Morrow? Why him?"

"He's in Metropolis anyway --for that forensic seminar. He can be 
the liaison."

"But sir, he's a doctor, not a police officer. I don't think 
he'll know what to do."

"According to this file," he said pointing to the file in Anna's 
hands, "he has had input in this case."

"Yes, but that was medical input."

"Look Anna," he said, his voice softening, "We simply can't 
afford to send you. I realize it's an important case for you, and 
I want it solved just as much as you do..."

"But?"

"But there's no money for this."

"Money?"

"The cutbacks have made it impossible for me to subsidize this 
kind of expenditure."

"You sound like a bureaucrat now."

"Whether I like it or not, I am a bureaucrat...and you're 
whining."

Anna hung her head like a child being scolded. She was quiet for 
few seconds, then raised her head defiantly. "I think I'll take 
some of my vacation time and fly down to Metropolis."

"Nice place to visit. And while you're there, you can drop in on 
an old buddy of mine, Bill Henderson."

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

Metropolis, New Troy

Anna heard the sonic boom as she entered the cab at Metropolis 
airport. She shielded her eyes from the sun and watched the caped 
hero fly across the sky.

"Pretty amazing, isn't he?" the cab driver said.

"Yes," she answered following the superhero as he wended his way 
over the city.

"You must be new in town."

Anna grumbled in response.

"I can tell. I get a kick out of newcomers watching Superman. 
They're the ones staring up at the sky open-mouthed." Not hearing 
any response from his passenger, he continued. "We're immune to 
it. We know he's here."

"I don't think that I could ever become immune to that," she said 
as she turned her attention to the cab driver. He was in his mid-
fifties, speaking with what sounded like an eastern European 
accent.

"He saved me once back when he first came to Metropolis," the man 
continued. "I was making a run to Suicide Slum, not a very good 
area, but the fare gave me a big tip, up front, so I took 
it...and him. After I let him out, I drove a few blocks and all 
of a sudden there was these punks in front of me...I had no 
choice. Slammed on my brakes. I rolled up the windows quick, but 
not before one grabbed the door handle...I couldn't drive...Then 
a gun appeared. I thought it was the end of my life. In my mind, 
I started saying good-bye to my wife and my kids...and just then, 
he was there, in front of me...and the punks, they just ran off. 
They knew what he could do to them."

"So, he's a deterrent..."

"No, it's more than that. When I was saying good-bye to my 
family, I swore I would do more for the community, to make 
Metropolis a better place. Sounds corny, no?"

"Not really," Anna said politely.

"Well, I did do something. Now, I volunteer at an inner city 
school. I coach soccer. I give back."

"So, Superman rescuing you made you into a soccer coach?"

"Think about it. He doesn't get paid for what he does. He just 
does it. Whenever someone needs help, he's there."

"Always?"

"Probably not always...but he gives us hope. He shows what can be 
done if you care. He shows one person can make a difference." The 
cabby looked in the mirror. "Look, with all the powers that 
Superman has, he could probably take over the world, get really 
rich, and turn us into his slaves." He turned his attention back 
to the road. "But he doesn't. He doesn't ask for anything."

"But he gets money from endorsements and royalties from action 
figures and t-shirts."

"Sure, the money goes to the Superman Foundation. That money goes 
straight to charity. I don't think he gets any of it." The driver 
pulled the cab over to the curb. "You see, miss, Superman gives 
us much more than we give him. Metropolis and the world are 
better places to live because of him. That's the bottom line." He 
lifted the meter's handle. "This is it, miss. We're here."

"Thank you," Anna said, handing him payment for the ride. "You've 
given me much more than a ride."

Anna pulled her duffel bag out of the cab and headed toward the 
reception desk.

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

David Morrow nursed his scotch on the rocks in the 
hotel bar while watching the comings and goings in the front 
lobby. The forensics course was interesting, but what really 
peaked his interest was his talks with Lois Lane and Clark Kent.

They were beginning to make inroads on the Jeremy Hamilton 
murder. He had spent the previous evening sharing information 
with the reporting team.

Lois Lane had told him about Emil Hamilton and his cloning 
experiments. The scientist was hoping to see if there was a way 
he could genetically change criminal behaviour, to make it more 
socially aware. In order to do this, he used technology to clone 
gangsters and bring them back. But before he was able to start 
his experiments, the clones returned to their natural criminal 
behaviour: robbing banks, stealing cars, attempting to bribe 
officials, and killing people who got in their way.

"In the end," Lois had said, "Superman stopped them."

"With Lois's help," Clark added.

"What happened to Hamilton's experiment?" David had asked.

"Nothing. He destroyed it and that was that," Lois added, taking 
Clark's hand and squeezing it.

David noted that something private passed between the husband and 
wife team, but he didn't feel comfortable pursuing it. Instead, 
he had asked what the connection between Jeremy's murder and Emil 
was.

"That's harder to explain because here we're going on instinct."

"You have to realize, though," Clark had added, "that Lois's 
instincts are 99% right on."

Lois smiled at Clark's comment. "According to Shelley Hamilton, 
Emil had been phoning his brother almost daily a few weeks before 
his stroke. Jeremy was agitated after he spoke to his brother, 
mumbling about his harebrained schemes getting him in more 
trouble than any scientific discovery was worth. Although Emil 
was older, Jeremy seemed to be the pragmatic one, the one who 
kept his older brother grounded, so to speak. After Emil's 
stroke, Jeremy had visited his brother's office. When he got 
there, it had been ransacked. "

"It made sense to us," Clark had continued, "that Emil was the 
link. So we followed up on his clones. When we last saw them, 
they were in prison again for the crimes they committed their 
second time around. They're still there now."

"We checked Hamilton's visitors and phone calls. The lab he works 
for now keeps a record of visitors. The name that kept coming up 
was a Vic Newbury."

David stared at his empty glass. Tomorrow he was meeting with 
Bill Henderson of the MPD who was going to apprise him of what he 
had found out about Vic Newbury. Would they find a connection 
with Emil Hamilton and then with Jeremy? It could be a long shot.

He debated ordering another scotch when he looked out into the 
lobby. Now he knew that his mind was playing tricks on him. If he 
didn't know any better, he'd think that Anna McLaren was standing 
at the reception desk in the lobby.

The woman drove him crazy. He had moved to Huntsville to get away 
from a relationship he felt was getting out of hand. The last 
thing he had wanted was another relationship, especially with a 
strong-willed, opinionated, stubborn woman, but somehow just 
being around her, watching her graceful movements, her 
compassionate handling of people in trouble, her problem solving, 
he felt himself falling uncontrollably under her spell.

To no avail, he thought. She wasn't interested in him, and yet he 
couldn't explain the palpable attraction that suffused his body. 
He knew that she felt it too. As much as she tried to hide her 
interest, he knew that the sarcastic gruffness he heard in her 
voice and the controlled body language were forced, an act she 
put on just for him, to scare him away. Or so he told himself.

He stared at the woman's back. So like her, he thought. The same 
height, the same strong shoulders, the same dark brown braid. And 
then she turned around...

David took a final sip of the melted ice cubes, placed the glass 
on the table and headed into the lobby.

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

"Anna!"

Surprised to hear her name called, she spun around. David. She 
knew he was registered in the Metropolis Grand, but hearing his 
voice calling her name startled her. She straightened her 
shoulders, and cleared the surprise from her face.

"Morrow?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Vacation."

"You? On vacation?" He stared in disbelief. "What are you really 
doing here?"

"Following up on the Hamilton murder."

"I'm doing that."

"Is that why you're in Metropolis?"

"No. I'm here for the forensic conference, but the Inspector 
suggested I check in with MPD."

"Well, you can go back to your conference, now. I'm here and can 
take over."

"Sorry, I'm not giving this up. You wanna work with me, you're 
welcome. If not, go vacation somewhere else."

David glared at Anna daring her to gainsay him. One part of her 
wanted to. Working with David was dangerous, affecting her core, 
an area that she wanted left in peace. The other part of her 
enjoyed the sparring, the interplay, the physical desire she 
worked so hard to keep hidden.

And yet, he might know something that would help her 
investigation. And she had to admit he had been more than helpful 
leading up to his trip to Metropolis. He'd spent more time than 
necessary on the autopsy. He'd helped her focus on the abandonned 
car. She raised her eyes from the room card in her hand. He was 
standing still, his eyes boring adamantly into her.

"I'll meet you in the restaurant for breakfast at 7:30," she 
said. She turned towards the elevator. "And don't smirk, Morrow."

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

Anna lay on the bed, her novel spread open across her chest. She 
had read the same sentence over and over without grasping its 
meaning, but after the second or third word her mind returned to 
David standing in the lobby.

She hadn't expected to see him…Who was she kidding? When she had 
asked Pete Byford to book her in a hotel, he had mentioned that 
he'd booked her in the same hotel as David, muttering something 
about it being nice that at least she'd know someone in the big 
city. She hadn't objected. Let's face it. It made sense…didn't 
it?

He looked good standing there with that look of utter 
surprise...a pleased surprise, she noted...on his face. Her first 
impulse was to rush up and kiss him the way she would an old 
friend or her brother, or her lover. But before she could move or 
say anything, common sense prevailed, thank goodness, and shook 
her back to reality. She'd meet him for breakfast. She'd be 
professional about the whole thing.

Luckily, her brains were working harder than her hormones. She 
couldn't understand why seeing him always set her heart beating 
loudly in her ears. No other man had ever been able to distract 
her from her goals, from the reality she lived with. Somehow, 
David Morrow had crept right in and insinuated himself in her 
mind whether she wanted him to or not.

Not in her mind, she reminded herself, in her hormones. Her 
brains turned to mush whenever he was around. The only part of 
her body that worked was her heart, and maybe, she admitted to 
herself, another part she wasn't willing to name. She also 
conceded that her defence against him was a veil of anger she put 
on whenever he was near. Easier to deal with him that way.

He turned her on. No man had ever done that. She'd been mildly 
attracted to some men in the past, but it was more intellectual. 
He'd be a nice guy or a good-looking one, and she'd go out on a 
date or two with him, but there was no magic, no chemistry. That 
was good. She didn't want either the magic or the chemistry, both 
of which would get her in deeper than she wanted.

But she had gotten in deeper than she had ever expected. And for 
the millionth time, she chastised herself for her stupidity that 
night at Loon Lake. She should just have taken off and ignored 
his voice and his shivering, naked body wrapped in that old 
towel. He would have decided that what he had seen was simply a 
mirage; instead, she had approached him, unashamedly seduced him, 
and made love...no, had sex...with him.

And that had made her angry because if he was so interested in 
her the way he said he was, how could he make l...have sex with a 
woman whom he didn't even think was real. Moreover, if he found 
out who that woman was, he'd be angrier than a grizzly bear.

But now, whenever she saw him, all she could think about was how 
he felt, his lips on hers, his hands touching her body. If she 
closed her eyes, she could feel him thrusting inside her until he 
peaked, and then she shuddered with her desire for him. She had 
hoped that if she had sex once with him, it would be enough to 
quench her curiosity; instead like taking a small sip of water on 
a hot day, she wanted more.

She tried to clear her mind. He had no right invading her 
thoughts this way. She knew she had to stop before she did 
something stupid.

She lifted the book from her chest, snapping it shut, then turned 
off the light. She wasn't going to allow Morrow to turn her to 
mush.

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

Lois saw Anna McLaren when she entered the lobby 
restaurant. Henderson had called the night before and had invited 
her and Clark to join Morrow and him the next morning to share 
information. She hadn't expected to see McLaren as well.

She looked different than she had in Huntsville, softer, more 
relaxed. Instead of the blue police uniform weighted down with a 
utility belt, she wore a light blue silk blouse with a pair of 
black cotton slacks and black sandals. She carried a black blazer 
on her arm. As she walked toward the table her facial expression 
kept changing: first she frowned, then nodded her head with a 
slight smile and finally startled, she stared. Lois followed the 
gaze and realized that she was looking straight at Clark. Lois 
slid her right hand under Clark's left one. In her mind she sent 
the signal to McLaren: Wedding band. He's taken and he's mine.

When McLaren reached the table, the men stood up. Morrow 
introduced her first to Henderson, who shook her hand and 
muttered something like, "Nice to meet you." Then Morrow 
introduced her to Clark. He also shook her hand, but they held on 
just a fraction of a second too long. Clark looked surprised by 
McLaren's intense scrutiny.

Morrow must have seen the connection that passed between Clark 
and McLaren because he abruptly sat down, gulped some coffee and 
started talking. "Yeah. Right. We're here to...uh...put together 
our information about Hamilton."

"Exactly," said Henderson. "Lane, you may be on the right track 
looking at Vic Newbury."

"I've been racking my brains trying to remember why I know that 
name. Give me a minute," Lois said.

"Wasn't he involved with the Churches?" Clark asked.

"Are you thinking of the guy who ran the Church vigilante group?" 
Lois asked.

"That's the one. He turned to petty crime and Superman 
discouraged him."

"Sounds like the right guy," said Henderson. "He spent a short 
time in jail and now he's on parole."

"You're kidding?"

"Have you ever seen me kid, Lois?"

"No. Never."

"It seems to me," McLaren said, "we need to connect Newbury to 
Jeremy Hamilton, or at least to place him in Huntsville at the 
time of the murder. Inspector?"

"I wonder if Newbury visited Hamilton when Jeremy was there?" 
Lois asked.

"Newbury visited Emil Hamilton several times in the hospital. We 
looked at his phone records as well. He had called Hamilton..." 
Henderson flipped open his notebook. "...frequently both at his 
home and in his office.'

"Do you have a picture of him, Inspector? Lois and I could visit 
the nursing home and his former office," Clark said. "Meanwhile, 
Inspector, you could check Newbury's phone records."

******************Lois didn't know exactly how it happened, but she 
and Anna McLaren were walking up the steps to the Renaissance 
Nursing Home. As they sat around the breakfast table earlier in 
the day, they had decided a visit to Emil would be the next move 
on their list. But Henderson had received a message calling him 
away to a more urgent case. Once they had decided to go to the 
nursing home in the morning, Morrow had to beg off, saying the 
day's seminars at the Forensic Conference were too important for 
him to miss. Lois had hoped that McLaren would have some excuse 
not to join her, and when she turned to look at her, she noticed 
McLaren staring off into space. Great, Lois thought, she had to 
deal with an air head.

But Lois's thoughts had been interrupted by Clark, who rose from 
the table saying he just remembered he had an appointment with a 
source, and if he didn't get there soon...And in very typical 
Clark style, he didn't end the sentence but rose from the table 
and headed for the door. Although his back was to her, in her 
mind's eye she could see him tugging at his tie. She smiled, not 
understanding how she hadn't seen through Clark's excuses in the 
past.

Unfortunately, she had realized she was left with McLaren. She 
glanced over at the woman whose eyes were following Clark out the 
door of the restaurant. She had better find some time when the 
two were together to let her know how unavailable Clark was.

Now, standing in front of the information desk at the Renaissance 
Nursing Home, an old Victorian mansion turned into a nursing 
home, Lois asked the receptionist about Emil Hamilton.

"He's on the second floor, east wing," she said. "I'm sure he'll 
be glad to see you since he hasn't had a lot of visitors lately. 
His sister-in-law and nephews haven't been here since his brother 
went missing. I read in the paper that he's dead. It's been hard 
for them."

"Has Professor Hamilton had any other visitors?" Anna asked 
taking advantage of the woman's willingness to prattle.

"He did for a while. There was this woman a few months ago. She 
never said her name or anything, just that she was a friend of 
the professor's.

"What did woman look like?" Lois asked.

The receptionist shrugged her shoulders. "Like a regular woman 
except her hair was awful. It was dyed. I can't understand why 
women want to dye their hair an unnatural colour. It looked 
bright orange to me. I suppose it was supposed to be auburn, but 
it was awful."

"Was it long or short?" Lois asked.

"Short."

"Do you remember her height, weight, age? Anything like that," 
Anna added.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. She was about my height, five-four, 
heavier than me, looked around thirty or forty, but I'm not good 
with age."

"Did she wear a lot of make-up?"

"Yeah, it was plastered on like she was a clown. She had pale 
skin, but the make-up didn't cover the wrinkles or lines. I 
remember thinking that I'd like to take a cloth and wipe off all 
the blush. It was too much."

"You've got a good memory."

"I remember her because she looked so odd to me."

"Do you remember seeing this man?" Lois pulled out a picture of 
Newbury.

"Sure. He came with her a few times. You could tell she was boss. 
Kept giving him orders. He'd follow her up to Emil's room, and 
she'd be talking at him the whole time."

"Thank you for your help. Come, Lois. Let's visit Emil," Anna 
said, leading Lois down the hall.

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

Emil Hamilton sat in a high-backed chair staring at the wall in 
front of him. Lois tried getting his attention, touching his arm, 
waving her hands in front of his face. She even yelled at him, 
but Emil didn't move or blink. He kept staring at the wall.

Lois grumbled in frustration. "I don't know if I should hate this 
man for what he did or be thankful to him for the rest of my 
life."

"I don't understand," said Anna, looking at the small, grey man 
in front of her.

"It's a long story," Lois paused. She didn't like the way McLaren 
looked at Clark. Maybe using her story with Hamilton could let 
McLaren know, without any doubt, how taken Clark was.

Hamilton was still staring straight ahead, oblivious to the two 
women, mumbling incomprehensibly.

Lois, seeing that they weren't going to make sense of what 
Hamilton was saying, began her story. "Two years ago, old 
gangsters began appearing on the streets of Metropolis."

"Had they been released from prison?"

"No. Old, dead, gangsters. Bonnie and Clyde, Al Capone, 
Dillinger...those kinds of gangsters."

"Really!" said Anna, her eyes wide open.

"They began to terrorize the city. Clark and I learned that 
Professor Hamilton here had been experimenting with cloning. He 
wanted to learn if resocializing criminals would change their 
behaviour. Before he could begin his experiments, the clones had 
run amok.

"While uncovering what happened, Clark and I followed them to a 
gambling den. There, Dillinger raised a gun at me, and Clark 
stepped in front of the bullet...which hit him in the chest." 
Lois hiccoughed. "He was dead, and at that moment, I realized 
that my best friend, the man I loved, was gone."

"But he didn't die."

"No. Not exactly." Lois realized that even though she knew the 
truth about what happened to Clark, she was telling the public 
story. "He was dead, but Superman got hold of Hamilton's notes 
and used them to resurrect Clark."

"Convenient," Anna muttered.

"What did you say?" asked Lois.

"Lucky that Superman was able to save him."

"More than lucky. In some ways, he saved my life as well. During 
those long hours when I thought Clark was dead, I thought I had 
nothing to live for. I had made the biggest mistake of my life 
not acknowledging to myself and to him that I loved him. I didn't 
realize the feelings I had for Clark, for my partner and best 
friend, were so strong because I loved him." Lois paused for a 
moment remembering those moments.

"So after he was resurrected you told him you loved him and you 
became a couple."

"Not exactly. Several months before, Clark had told me he loved 
me, but I was blinded by a lot of things, and didn't think I 
reciprocated his feelings."

"He told you first?"

"Yes, of course. Why?"

"Well...I...uh...I got the feeling he was... a... reticent guy, 
shy maybe."

"He's quiet, but he's not afraid of showing his feelings." This 
was Lois's opportunity to let Anna know exactly what the score 
was. "Once we were completely truthful with each other, Clark 
told me he had loved me from the moment we met, that his dream 
was to make a future with me." Lois glared directly at Anna. "We 
are very much in love, and nothing will change that."

"Clark was the one who wanted to get married?"

"Yes." Lois glared at McLaren. "Why would you ask that?"

McLaren paused. Lois thought she was at a loss for words. Did 
McLaren think Lois was unlovable, unmarriageable?

"It was a question coming from...uh...personal experience. 
I...uh...I thought men...uh...didn't want commitment."

"Not all men. I used to think the same until I met Clark. He made 
me believe that there are some men out there who want commitment, 
who want to attach their lives to another person. I'm lucky 
enough to have found one."

Once again, McLaren didn't say anything, as if she was mulling 
over all that Lois had told her.

"And so now it's happily ever after, living the perfect life..."

"It hasn't been smooth sailing if that's what you mean. We have 
our problems, our ups and downs, our disagreements. But we work 
at our relationship and it's good, very good." Lois turned on her 
heels. "There's nothing we can do here. Let's check out 
Hamilton's papers."

******************If there had been any clues in Hamilton's papers, 
they had vanished long ago, Lois and Anna had decided after 
having visited Hamilton's office and apartment. At least, with 
the receptionist's observations, they had more than a tentative 
connection between Newbury and Hamilton.

Anna had called her office and requested customs and immigration 
to find if Newbury had crossed the border around the same time as 
Jeremy Hamilton. If that connection could be made, then obtaining 
a search warrant became a likely possibility. The problem was 
that if the two men had crossed by automobile then only the 
license plates would have been registered, unless the customs 
officials found something suspicious with either of the men or 
cars. One problem was that they didn't have a license plate for 
what they believed was Jeremy's car.

Meanwhile, Anna had time to kill. She and Lois had parted company 
a half hour earlier. Lois had returned to the Daily Planet while 
Anna decided to spend some time exploring one of Metropolis's 
shopping districts. She was standing in front of a hair salon 
looking at a picture of a woman, her hair falling softly on her 
shoulders. What she wouldn't give for a professional hair-cut, 
for layers of hair instead of the monthly blunt zapping the ends 
her hair got. She shrugged her shoulders, feeling the weight of 
her braid running down her back.

On the other hand, she knew she shouldn't complain about her 
hair. In the end, it had given her a cloak to hide behind, a veil 
that David couldn't see through. At least she had had that one 
night with him.

At the time, she had believed it was only one night, that there 
was no future for them, but maybe she was wrong. If Clark could 
find a woman who could accept him, then perhaps David would 
consider her...until he found out.

The conversation with Lois had been strange; they'd spoken at 
cross purposes. Lois had interpreted Anna's interest in Clark as 
a romantic one rather than the more clinical interest in learning 
what made him tick, how he functioned as two different people. 
Instead of her words becoming a warning against moving in on 
Clark, her words gave Anna a glimmer of a hope that a semblance 
of normalcy was a possibility.

Anna was fascinated by Clark Kent because he didn't keep his 
skills and talents hidden, as she had for so many years. She 
remembered clearly the day she learned about Superman. It had 
been four years earlier. She'd been on a training exercise for a 
number of days, having no communication with the rest of the 
world. When she got home, her mother's voice on the answering 
machine told her to get a newspaper, check the news and call her 
back...immediately.

She had done as she was told, and when she opened the newspaper, 
she saw the picture of the good-looking man wearing the red, blue 
and yellow costume. She quickly scanned the Lois Lane article 
that had been picked up by most English language newspapers. What 
struck Anna was that this Superman had all the same talents as 
she had. He called them powers. He had enhanced hearing and 
vision, extraordinary strength, invulnerability and he could 
fly...just like her.

Following her mother's orders, she had called home. Her mother 
was excited. Anna wasn't alone in the world. There was someone 
just like her. She had to contact him. He could answer her 
questions, explain what she didn't know. Anna had promised her 
mother she would find him, but in the end she'd procrastinated.

At first, she had decided to find out more about him, so she kept 
reading the newspapers to get as much information as she could. 
Within a few weeks, she learned that he was from a planet called 
Krypton. She had looked at herself in the mirror. Could an alien 
look and feel as human as she did?

She had always believed that she was human, some kind of human 
experiment gone awry. How or why she wasn't sure. She, along with 
her parents, worried that if someone found out about her, they 
would take her away from the only family she knew. So, together, 
they had decided to keep her developing talents a secret. They 
had decided if she needed to tell someone, one of her brothers 
was always available, but, in the end, she didn't want to burden 
any of them. Being a sister to four brothers was difference 
enough.

As far as Superman was concerned, she had to learn more about him 
before she admitted they were the same. Most first-hand reporting 
about the new superhero, as he was called, came from Metropolis. 
She began reading the Daily Planet on a regular basis and became 
familiar with the names Lois Lane and Clark Kent. Those two 
seemed to get most of the more substantial interviews with 
Superman.

Anna also wondered if this Superman was really like her. She 
didn't walk around in a flashy costume saving people. She always 
used her talents in a natural and unobtrusive way. She was 
satisfied being a tad faster or stronger.

Four years had passed since she'd learned about the existence of 
Superman, and in that time, she'd never tried to contact him. 
She'd figured out, by trial and error, that Superman was a 
disguise for Clark Kent, the reporter at the Daily Planet. On 
reading the Lois Lane and Clark Kent exclusives in the paper, she 
decided to do a background check on the reporting team. The broad 
strokes of Clark Kent's life paralleled her own. Age, adopted, 
athletic, bright. Too coincidental. Then she looked for pictures 
of Clark Kent. There weren't too many available until the Planet 
started advertising the Hottest Team in Town with a large, one-
page spread of Lois Lane and Clark Kent. At the time she thought 
that it was a stupid move on the paper's part, giving faces to 
its top investigating team, but it became possible for her to 
place a picture of Superman beside Clark Kent's. There was no 
doubt in her mind afterwards.

Once she knew who he was, she thought about meeting him, but what 
would she say? Hey! I'm Kryptonian, too. No. She wasn't even sure 
she was Kryptonian. All she knew was she could do what he could, 
and they shared the same talents. And anyway, she was too busy. 
Up until now. She had actually met Clark Kent and they were in 
the same city. Now she had no excuse. Yes, she would tell him who 
she was...as soon as she found the right time.

Meanwhile, she had a case to solve, Jeremy Hamilton's murderer to 
find. The clues, at the moment were circumstantial, but she could 
use the time to follow up on one of the leads. Vic Newbury.

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

After leaving Anna, Lois returned to the Daily Planet where she 
found Clark sitting at his desk typing up his notes. She quickly 
filled him in on her morning with Anna McLaren.

"Is Anna McLaren still getting on your nerves?"

"Yes...no...Sort of...."

"Sort of?" Clark asked, raising his eyebrow.

"I think I let her know that you're off limits, but sometimes, 
there're things she says or looks she gives me that send shivers 
up my spine."

"Shivers? Like she scares you?"

"More like Twilight Zone shivers where she knows something I 
should, but I don't."

"I could talk to her. Maybe I can get a handle on what bugs you."

"Just remember to let her know that you're mine."

Clark put his arm around his wife and planted a soft kiss on her 
lips. "Absolutely and forever yours," he said. "By the way, 
Henderson called. The other phone number calling Emil belongs to 
a Marcy Turcovic. He says she's a personal assistant at TAL Inc."

"Never heard of it."

"Neither have I. Henderson is looking into it and so is Jimmy. 
But we do have an address for TAL Inc."

"I think I'll find this Marcy Turcovic," she said to her husband. 
"I'll follow her, see where she goes, get a sense of who she is."

"Good plan. Do you need any help?"

"I know how to get hold of you if I do," she said taking her cell 
phone out of her purse.

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

With time on her hands and little patience for shopping, Anna 
found Newbury's address in the phone book and, with a map of the 
city in her hand, headed in his direction. Within a short time, 
she stood across the street from a small brick house in an older 
working class neighbourhood. Her eyes swept the house. No one was 
home. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she felt 
confident that when she found it, she'd know.

The interior of the house was sparsely decorated, if decorated 
was the right word. A sofa with a mismatched easy chair, a TV set 
and a boom box, a small kitchen table with three chairs, a bed, a 
dresser and a night table. Not much furniture but every piece 
covered in clothes, papers or half- empty take-out containers. 
She zoomed into each room. The stove was greasy, the fridge empty 
except for some basic condiments, a few bottles of beer and soda. 
Dirty dishes, a frying pan and several pots lay piled on the 
counters. Obviously, the man didn't bother cleaning up. The 
cupboards under the sink were cluttered with bags, garbage and 
cleaners...never used she noticed.

Anna refocussed on the outside. No one seemed to be around, but 
just in case she looked suspicious, she bent down and massaged 
her ankle. If someone came by, they'd assume she was exercising 
and had strained something. In the crouching position, she 
examined the other rooms. Newbury's home was a mess, but unless 
she wanted to sift through the pile of clothes and other of his 
belongings which were strewn all over the bedroom floor, she 
wasn't going to find anything. Anna was disappointed that her 
search, so far, had come up with nothing.

As she got up and stretched her arms and legs, a Jeep drove into 
Newbury's driveway. A good- looking man, about thirty, sandy-
haired, six feet tall, got out of the vehicle. He picked up the 
mail, unlocked the door and went in the house, locking the door 
behind him. After he checked the mail, he aimed it at a table, 
but only a few envelopes made it to their destination. The rest 
fluttered to the floor. He went into the kitchen, took a bottle 
of beer, and headed for the bedroom. Chugging some beer, he 
slipped off his shoes and then placed the bottle on the night 
table. Use a coaster, Anna thought. Then she laughed at herself. 
Too little, too late.

Newbury took off his trousers and began unbuttoning his shirt. 
Standing in his briefs, he walked to the shower, turned it on and 
began to lower his briefs.

"That's more than I want to see," Anna whispered, shaking her 
head. It was time to leave. As she headed away from the house, 
she decided to take one quick look at the Jeep. It was an older 
model, red, rusty in spots, a few dents on the sides. She peered 
into the back where there were two grungy gym bags. Clearly 
sticking out of one bag was a license plate: New Troy 324 AXY. 
She memorized the number. In the same bag as the license plate, 
she saw a shovel. Zooming in on the shovel, she saw traces of 
mud, leaves and grass.

Anna had to find a way to legally get hold of the license plate 
and shovel without tainting the evidence. Not wanting to stand 
out in full view, Anna walked down to the donut shop on the 
corner. After ordering a coffee, she sat beside the window 
keeping an eye on Newbury's house. She might be wrong in her 
assumptions, but if she wasn't then the evidence which could 
further their case was sitting in the back of the vehicle and she 
had to get it.

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

The sun had set by the time Newbury walked out 
of his front door. He jumped into his Jeep and headed past the 
donut shop where Anna had already consumed several cups of 
coffee.

She left her seat and walked out the door as soon as she saw 
Newbury leave his house. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, 
she started walking in the same direction as the car was headed. 
She picked up her pace.

She wasn't quite sure what she hoped to achieve, but she knew 
that following Newbury on foot was not a good idea, even though 
she could travel as fast if not faster than he could. There were 
no cabs around to hail, but she had an idea how to get hold of 
the license plate and shovel legally, and that meant that she had 
to know where Newbury and his vehicle ended up. If only...

What the heck! she thought. This is Metropolis and no one even 
notices. Searching the area, Anna found a mini-park bordered by a 
cluster of trees. She walked to the trees, tucked her hair into 
the collar of the blazer then pulled it tightly around her neck 
so her light-coloured blouse wouldn't show. Then looking around 
making sure no one could see her, she leapt into the air.

Flying above the cloud line, she found the vehicle and followed 
it from above.

She just hoped that no one noticed her, or if they did, they'd 
think Superman was dressed in black rather than in his suit. The 
words of the Metropolis cabby when he had dropped her off at her 
hotel rang in her ears. The people of Metropolis were used to 
Superman in the skies so they wouldn't think to look up. That 
gave her the confidence to take off in the middle of the city.

And she had to admit, as she followed Newbury along the road, she 
liked the freedom to just take off anywhere, using her talents 
more freely.

The Jeep pulled into a parking lot. Newbury left the car and went 
into the building. Anna scanned the area. No one was around. She 
landed quietly, a short distance from the vehicle. Walking 
cautiously among the cars, she approached the Jeep and using her 
laser vision, quickly zapped the back tire enough to create a 
pinhole. She then leaned on the tire, letting enough air out to 
partially deflate it. Her next step was to make the spare 
unusable. She located it on the hatch at the back, zapped a 
larger hole in it and let it deflate completely. She walked away 
from the car and sat, inconspicuously, on a curb in the shadows 
waiting for Newbury to leave.

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

The seats in Sykes Bar and Grill were 
beginning to fill more quickly now, Lois observed, sitting in a 
booth just behind Marcy Turcovic who had consumed two martinis in 
the last hour. Lois had followed the woman earlier to the bar and 
was waiting to see who she was going to meet. She'd left a 
message with Clark telling him to meet her there. Now she also 
sat nursing a drink, keeping her wits about her, as she watched 
the orange-haired woman nervously checking the door and glancing 
at her watch.

Her hunch paid off when a man she recognized as Vic Newbury sat 
down beside Turcovic who was angrily pointing at her watch.

"You're late," Turcovic said. Lois had no trouble hearing her, 
but then Turcovic leaned toward Newbury and the two began to 
whisper. Even though the two were very animated, and no matter 
how much she strained, she couldn't overhear their conversation 
which lasted fifteen minutes. Where was Clark when she needed 
him?

When Newbury finally got up, he looked down at Turcovic and 
sarcastically said, "You're not asking a lot, are you?"

"Just do it," Turcovic said.

Lois debated whether to stay with Marcy Turcovic or follow 
Newbury out the door. She had given him orders to do something, 
so Lois decided following him was her best bet. She put money on 
the table and followed Newbury into the parking lot. As she 
unlocked her car door, watching Newbury approach a red Jeep, she 
was startled by a voice behind her.

"Do you have a cell phone on you?" Anna McLaren asked.

"What are you doing here?" Lois asked.

"Followed Newbury. I was waiting for him to come out." Anna 
hopped into the passenger side of Lois's silver Cherokee.

"Why the cell phone?"

"He's going to have a problem soon. Thought we'd let Bill 
Henderson know."

"You look like the cat who swallowed the canary."

"You think?"

"Well?"

"I checked out where Newbury lives and while I was there, he 
arrived home. I decided to follow him. That's how I got here. I 
looked over his car and he seems to have some tire problems."

Lois opened her eyes. "You know, McLaren, I might get to like 
you." "What were you doing here? Not following Newbury."

"No. Turcovic."

"Interesting."

"Definitely. They had a meeting. Unfortunately, I wasn't in a 
good position to hear what they said."

"Where's Clark?"

"Clark's working on another story." Lois turned her head to see 
her passenger. That McLaren was definitely a strange one. Why 
would she bring up Clark just when Lois mentioned that she 
couldn't hear what Newbury and Turcovic were saying? Didn't she 
think Lois could do the work herself? Giving her the benefit of 
the doubt, Lois decided she had probably meant to change the 
subject...or she wanted to talk about Clark. Hadn't she gotten 
the hint yet?

"Slow down. He's pulling over to the side," Anna said. "Pull over 
and turn off your engine."

The two women watched as Newbury got out of his car and kicked 
the flat tire in frustration. Lois reached for her binoculars to 
get a closer look at Newbury while he opened up the hatch and 
threw out a few bags.

"He's looking for something," Lois said.

"Call Henderson," McLaren said.

"McLaren, you are really bad," Lois said spying the very flat 
spare. "How did you manage to do that?"

"Trade secret. Call Henderson and tell him to drive over here. 
There're some very interesting items on the side of the road." 
Anna pointed to the license plate sticking out of the gym bag.

******************The next day, David Morrow accompanied Inspector 
Henderson on a search of the TAL offices and warehouse, where 
Newbury and Turcovic were employed.

"Now remember," Bill Henderson instructed "you're here to 
observe. That means you, Lois. Don't touch anything. Kent, keep 
an eye on her. And McLaren, you don't have jurisdiction here. 
You're a visitor. You, too, Morrow."

David noticed that Lois was about to protest, probably something 
in the order that it was she who had found and reported the 
disabled vehicle on the road to Henderson. He and his men had 
arrived on the scene a few minutes after Lois placed the call. 
Anna had explained to David that, while a couple of uniform 
officers were helping Newbury get towing assistance, one of 
Henderson's men had spotted a New Troy license plate sitting in 
an open gym bag that Newbury had earlier taken out of the vehicle 
while looking for the jack. Henderson had casually asked Newbury 
if the bag belonged to him. When Newbury answered in the 
affirmative, Henderson went to check the license plate as well as 
the plate on Newbury's jeep. As per procedure, the officer called 
in the loose license plate which they learned belonged to a Paul 
Simmons .

Interestingly, Newbury's New Troy plate was owned by TAL Inc. 
Because they were trying to link Turcovic and Newbury to Jeremy 
Hamilton's murder, Anna had suggested she run the two plate 
numbers by Canada Immigration and Customs. She had found that the 
plates had passed the US- Canada border on October 6. Two days 
later, the New Troy license plate on the red Jeep had crossed the 
border back into the US. It was enough information for the police 
to obtain a search warrant for TAL Inc's warehouse and offices 
where Marcy Turcovic worked.

That was where they were standing now, Bill Henderson holding a 
search warrant in his hand for the office and warehouse. David, 
knowing that reporters and out of town guests didn't often join a 
police team searching the premises in a murder investigation, 
grinned when Henderson reminded Lois she was there to observe. He 
knew he would stay out of trouble, and he knew that Anna was 
professional enough not to contaminate evidence. The four 
observers followed Bill Henderson and some of his officers into 
the front section of the warehouse which housed several offices.

David leaned against the door jamb, leaving the search to the 
police. Henderson and two officers led the inspection team 
through the office, collecting papers and turning artifacts 
upside down. But in the end, all they were looking at was an 
expensively furnished office of a successful import/export 
business with little of any value for the police. David followed 
the officers deeper into the warehouse behind the office and once 
again, the police looked through boxes of expensive pottery, 
household furnishings, and paintings. Nothing that would explain 
a connection to the murder.

Lois and Clark followed the officers. Clark glanced around the 
room, often tipping his glasses. David thought about suggesting 
that Clark go to a competent optometrist to get a new pair of 
glasses.

Anna walked around the warehouse with her hands behind her back. 
She seemed to try to sweep over the room with her eyes, but, like 
the rest of them, didn't find anything helpful.

Lois Lane walked over to a far corner of the warehouse toward an 
elegant bookcase filled with books and more decorative artifacts. 
She asked, "Henderson, what's behind door number three?"

"Door number three? Where?"

"Here," Lois said, as she pulled at a hook on one side of the 
shelf.

To David's surprise, he saw the book shelves begin to move and 
revolve around. "Wow!" he said. "A real secret compartment."

"How did you know?" Henderson asked Lois who was nodding her head 
at Clark.

"A hunch that paid off. My father had the same set-up in his 
office when he worked for Max Mencken a number of years back."

When the book shelves had finally slid open, David followed the 
team into a cavernous room looking like a museum with large 
paintings hanging on the walls and objects d'art placed on 
pedestals around the room. The centre of the room was filled with 
crates and cardboard boxes, many with the word FRAGILE written 
across them. David wondered if the more expensive goods, or the 
illegal goods, were kept here.

While Henderson and his officers began to sift through some of 
the artifacts, Anna put on surgical gloves and headed to a corner 
where David could see leather-bound books. At the same time, 
Clark , walking toward one of the crates in the same area, placed 
his hand in front of Lois, stopping her. She was about to protest 
this restriction of her movements, but then she seemed to see his 
expression and raised an eyebrow questioningly. Almost 
immediately her expression changed to alarm as she stared at her 
husband. Without leaving his side, she began looking frantically 
around the room.

David was entranced by their ability to communicate by touch and 
facial expression.

Suddenly, Clark bent over, seizing his mid-section. He grimaced 
in pain. Lois nodded, put her arm around her husband and helped 
him out of the room. The whole charade took less than thirty 
seconds.

David was about to follow the couple, to see if he could help, 
when he heard a thud. He turned toward the noise: Anna lay on the 
ground, a vase overturned beside her. She clutched her stomach 
and groaned. David rushed over to her. He laid her flat on the 
floor.

"She all right?" Henderson asked, leaning over David who was 
taking Anna's pulse.

"Pulse is racing. She has a fever. Pain, but not localized."

"I'll call an ambulance."

"No," Anna whispered. "No...ambulance."

"I'll take you to emergency, to a hospital. They'll take care of 
you," David said. He used his training to keep his personal 
anxiety out of his voice.

"No," Anna growled. "No hospital." She winced.

"Anna, don't be stupid. You're sick and you've got a fever. 
You're shivering."

She grasped David's hand, leaned closer to him and whispered, 
"Please, David...no hospital." She closed her eyes and took a 
shallow breath, once again wincing at the pain. "No hospital. 
Aspirin. Fluids."

"Has this happened before?"

"No. I'll be fine. Just get me outta here. Please?" she pleaded.

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

Clark accepted Lois' help as she led him out of the hidden 
compartment toward the front of the building.

"Kryptonite?" she whispered in his ear.

He nodded his head. As they walked toward the front door, he 
stood up straighter. "I'm all right now."

"Your powers?"

He levitated off the ground a few inches, felt dizzy and stepped 
back onto the firm floor. He then pushed his glasses down to the 
tip of his nose, glaring over top. "They're just a bit woozy. Out 
of focus a bit, but I'm sure I'll be fine in a few minutes."

"Come outside. We'll walk around the front of the building and 
then go to the Jeep."

"Why do you think Kryptonite was there?"

"I don't know, but we'll have to get rid of it..."

"And find out what it was doing there."

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

Anna lay on the bed in her hotel room. She was thankful that 
David hadn't coerced her into going to a hospital. Instead, she 
lay on the bed in her bathrobe, a wet cloth on her forehead, a 
couple of extra-strength aspirin travelling uselessly through her 
system. She had no strength to argue when David made her swallow 
the two pills or when he undressed her…he was a doctor after all.

Her eyes were closed, but she could sense him sitting across from 
her in the arm chair. She had no idea how she was going to 
explain this to him, or to anyone else. She hoped that the excuse 
of some random bug that caught her off guard would be a 
sufficient answer.

She'd never been sick before, never felt pain or nausea before. 
It was all new to her. She wondered if it was that Kryptonite 
she'd read about in the newspaper. From what she had seen, she 
had never been sure whether Kryptonite really existed or if 
criminals wanted to believe that if they had it they could stop 
Superman. There was never any evidence he'd been affected by it. 
She tried to remember, but thinking was too hard. She just wanted 
to doze.

She shivered. Cold! It was a new sensation. She felt someone pull 
a blanket up around her chin.

"David?"

"I'm here. How're you feeling?"

"Cold."

He sat on the edge of the bed. "Here. Take a drink of tea." She 
lifted herself up while he placed the cup along her lips. "Sip 
slowly. It's hot." She did as she was told. The sweet, hot tea 
felt good as she drank it.

"Thanks."

"How're you feeling?"

"Better. Just tired. A bit achy."

"That's okay. Go back to sleep." David stood up, tucked the 
blankets around her shoulders, and placed a kiss on her forehead. 
"I'm going out for a while. I'll be back soon."

Anna closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift into sleep.

******************David sat in the cab, worried about Anna. First, the 
unexplained episode in the warehouse and then her uncompromising 
stance on going to the hospital scared him, partially because, 
even as a doctor, he didn't know what was wrong with her, and 
therefore didn't know how to help. And then, on top of everything 
else, when he had helped dress her for bed, he had fought to keep 
thinking of Anna as a patient and not as the beautiful woman he 
was in love with.

It rattled him more than he'd like to admit. Putting Anna's robe 
on her reminded him of that one night, it seemed so long ago now, 
where he had let passion override his reason. When he wrapped 
Anna into the robe, he felt guilty having made love to one woman 
while being in love with another. He knew it wasn't logical...but 
what about that night was rational? Even though his heart had 
made a commitment to Anna, he had never shared it with her, and 
she had made no promises to him. Far from it. She would have 
given him her cynical permission to have a meaningless fling with 
whoever flew into view. Nonetheless, he felt as if he had cheated 
on her.

"348 Hyperion Avenue, sir," the cab driver said.

David paid the driver and headed for the door. He was hoping that 
Clark Kent would be able to answer some of his questions.

It was Lois Lane who answered the door and ushered him into the 
living room.

"I know you said you wanted to see Clark when you phoned, but 
something came up and he had to step out for a few minutes. He 
should be back shortly. Did you get anything more at the 
warehouse after we left?"

"No. That's really why I wanted to talk to you...why you left."

Lois's eyes opened wide.

"We just wanted to check the perimeter."

"I don't think so. I saw..."

Just at that moment, Clark walked in carrying a grocery bag.

"Lois, I thought I'd pick up some cookies as well as the 
groceries so we could offer David something with his coffee," 
Clark said as he pulled out a bag of chocolate chip cookies.

"Coffee...right," Lois mumbled.

David watched her follow Clark into the kitchen. Her back was to 
him, but he could see that she was gesticulating, soundlessly, 
communicating with him much the same way as Clark had with her in 
the warehouse.

Clark rolled his eyes and made his way over to the couch. "How 
can I help you, David?" he asked.

"When we went into the secret compartment, just as you and Lois 
were crossing the threshold, you signaled her, grabbed onto your 
abdomen, and she escorted you out. What happened?"

As David was talking, he noticed Lois come up and sit beside 
Clark. Their eyes met for a moment, then turned back to David.

"I don't remember him grabbing his abdomen," Lois said. "We just 
left to check the outside."

"I watched you for a while," David said. "Clark was in pain, but 
it seemed to me that you were familiar with it." He stared at the 
couple intently, then added. "I'm a doctor and I've seen people 
in pain before."

"Whatever it was," Clark said, "I'm fine now. Thank you for your 
concern."

"That's not why I'm here." Once again, David noticed Lois looking 
wide eyed at Clark.

"Why are you here?"

"Anna."

"Anna?"

"Anna McLaren."

"Yes, but I don't understand why?"

"I saw you almost double over in pain and Lois take you out of 
the room. I was going to see if I could help you when I heard 
someone fall. It was Anna."

"She tripped?" Lois asked.

"No. She was doubled over in pain. When I got to her, her 
breathing was erratic and she had a fever. I wanted to take her 
to the hospital, but she wouldn't let me. By the time, I got her 
back to the hotel, she said she was feeling better, the pain was 
gone, but she felt weak and tired. She wouldn't let me take her 
temperature, but I could tell she had a high fever."

Clark slipped his hand into Lois's. She squeezed it lightly, then 
her fingers intertwined with his.

"Do you think it's something catchy," Lois asked guilelessly.

"No. At first I thought it was a gallstone attack, but then I 
remembered Clark. All I could think of was some kind of allergic 
reaction, but the symptoms don't match. I thought that Clark 
might have the answer."

Clark, hearing his name, turned to David. "I don't think I can 
help you out here. You probably need to talk to Anna."

"She didn't know what happened to her, but she wasn't too 
interested in pursuing it either."

"I'm not surprised," Lois whispered.

"What?"

Lois gasped. "Oh...um...well, she's a woman and you're a man and 
I don't think she sees you as a doctor so...um...she doesn't want 
you...you know..."

David sighed. "Unfortunately, Lois, Anna only sees me as a 
doctor."

"Oh!"

"Look, David," Clark said, getting up from his seat. "I'm sorry 
that we can't help you out with this one, but I'm sure Anna will 
take care of herself and get any necessary help."

"Thanks for your time." David got up and followed Clark to the 
door. "I'll check in with Henderson and find out what he found 
after I left with Anna."

Clark walked David to the door and let him out.

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

"Clark, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Lois asked after 
Clark closed the door.

"Yeah," he said heading straight for the computer. "Let's see if 
our theory works."

They both stared at the computer screen watching Google open up. 
Clark quickly typed in Anna McLaren's name and waited.

"Do you think she was affected by the Kryptonite?"

"Symptoms sound similar to the ones I had the first time I was 
exposed."

"Maybe that's why she kept staring at you. She knows."

"How would she?"

"Same way we're going to find out now. Working backwards from the 
information we have on you. Well..." Lois tapped her foot.

"Patience, Lois. This modem doesn't work at superspeed."

Clark scrolled through the listings on Anna McLaren. "There's 
more than one Anna McLaren," he said before finally stopping on 
an article in the Huntsville Standard when she was transferred to 
the town. He quickly read through it.

"She was born in Huntsville, 1966. Parents are Pauline and Brad 
McLaren. He's a police officer with the Toronto force. She's got 
four older brothers. Two are police officers. One's an 
accountant. The other's an architect. She's got a university 
degree...Anthropology...and one in criminology. Spent her summers 
in Huntsville."

"Nothing there except she was born the same year as you, but then 
so were millions of other people. Anything else?"

"No. I'm going back to the search page."

"Open this up." Lois pointed to the computer screen.

Clark followed his wife's direction. "It's a letter to the editor 
she wrote to the Huntsville Standard." He skimmed through it. 
"She's responding to an article on adoption. She believes adopted 
children need to know as much as they can about their birth 
parents. She writes, 'Not knowing eats away at one's sense of 
self and worth.'"

"She's adopted?"

"It's strongly implied."

"Okay. 1966. Adopted."

"We're still talking in the millions."

"Go to that page...'Matt's Wedding'."

"Pictures."

Lois edged closer to the screen. "Nice family shot. She has a 
similar one on her desk."

"Definitely looks different than her brothers."

"Doesn't look like either of her parents." Lois took the mouse 
and scrolled down the page. "Or her Uncle Harry."

"Adopted."

"I'd say so."

"I think it's time for a more in-depth search. We'll need the 
Planet's computer for that. Are you coming?"

*******************Anna lay on the bed. She didn't feel as tired or 
drained as she had a few hours before, but she was reluctant to 
get out of bed, reluctant to try out her talents. She couldn't 
make up her mind if she hoped they would just go away, or if she 
would miss them.

Being like other women would allow her to have a relationship. 
She berated David for his stubborn wooing of her, calling it 
foolish and hopeless, but his persistence made her realize how 
honest his feelings were. And as much as she told him that she 
couldn't have a relationship with him or any man, she very much 
wanted to have one. Except that no man would want her the way she 
was.

Now, if she stayed normal, a relationship with David was a very 
real possibility. And she wouldn't have to tell him about 
herself...or that night...

There was a knock on the door. Pushing away the temptation to try 
and look through the door, Anna ran her fingers through her 
loosened hair, maybe, if she was normal, she could get a stylish 
cut. Wrapping her cozy robe around herself with the mismatched 
belt, she answered the door.

*******************David stared at Anna. Standing in front of him, 
wearing the robe, her loose hair falling down her shoulders, she 
was so sexy. He remembered helping her undress and not finding 
her pyjamas. He wondered what she was wearing under the robe now. 
He found the image of her nude under the robe was exciting him 
more than he'd like to admit.

"Where did you go?" she asked.

"What?" he asked, taking a deep breath, hoping it would bring him 
back to reality. "To the Kents' place. Mind if I sit down?"

"No. Go ahead." She waited for him to sit down. "Did they find 
anything at the warehouse?"

"No. I don't know. I went for another reason."

Anna raised an eyebrow. David had seen her use the technique with 
others. She wasn't going to ask what the other reason was; she'd 
wait for him to tell her on his own. Which he would.

"Kent doubled over about the same time you did. I thought it 
might be a shared allergic reaction." He waited for some 
response. When none was forthcoming, he continued. "He said 
nothing was wrong with him, but, to tell you the truth, I don't 
believe him. He was in some pain, if only for a short time."

"You told him what happened to me?"

"Yes...Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter."

"How are you feeling now?"

"Normal. I was going to shower and go out."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah! I'm fine."

*******************Lois signalled Clark to follow her into the 
conference room.

"Did you get the kryptonite from the warehouse?" Clark asked.

"Yeah. I got rid of it the usual way."

"Good."

"What did you find?" Lois asked her husband.

"Anna's parents filed adoption papers in Huntsville where they 
own a summer cottage."

"Huntsville, not Toronto?"

"Small town, less hassle, fewer questions, I guess, especially 
when they come back to the city for the winter."

"Any record of her birth parents?"

"No. Just legal mumbo-jumbo burying their identities. There's a 
statement of live birth, but I can't find a trace of the doctor 
who signed it."

"Hmm." Lois skimmed the pages Clark had printed up. "I looked at 
the weather and satellite conditions for May 1966. On May 19, 
1966 there was unusual activity in the sky creating a seasonally 
early aurora borealis."

"Northern lights?"

"Yeah. It was preceded by a flash of light streaking across the 
sky. Meteorologists determined that a meteor had passed over the 
area, but they searched the Algonquin Park area and couldn't find 
any evidence of it crashing to earth."

"How did they explain it?"

"It disintegrated before it hit land." Lois placed her hand on 
Clark's cheek. "You realize what this means, don't you?"

Clark nodded.

"You're not alone anymore," she whispered.

Clark took Lois's hand and moved it to his lips. "Lois, honey," 
he said, pausing to kiss her slender fingers, "I haven't been 
alone since I met you."

"Lois. Clark." It was Jimmy. Realizing that he was interrupting a 
private moment, he blushed. "Don't you guys get enough of that at 
home...and where do I get some for myself?"

"You gotta find the right person, Jimmy," Clark said with a smile 
on his face. "What's happening?"

"I got some more information on Anna McLaren for you. Her old 
high school went on line with a big who's who project and there's 
the write up on McLaren. She was a jock in her high school days 
playing mostly on boys' teams. She was a top athlete, having 
played house league as a little kid and then moving on in high 
school."

"She's built like an athlete," Lois said. "Doesn't look like 
there's any fat on her."

"Well, what's interesting is that she quit all sports in her 
senior year. She said she wanted to focus on her academics to get 
a university scholarship, which she ended up getting."

"Interesting, Jimmy," said Clark. "You can stop looking for now."

"Why do you want to investigate a cop? Do you think she's 
crooked?"

"No. Absolutely not," said Clark.

"We just want to know who we're dealing with," said Lois.

"I...uh...think we have enough information now. Thanks, Jimmy."

Once Jimmy had closed he door behind him and moved further into 
the newsroom, Lois turned to her husband. "Wouldn't an academic 
scholarship be harder to get than an athletic one. She's the 
youngest of five kids. I'm sure they could have used the money."

"If she was anything like me, she would have been nervous about 
giving herself away in a game. It's easy to get caught up in the 
excitement and want to win for your team, especially when you 
know you could help them so easily."

"You got an athletic scholarship and played football."

"I did, but I had put a lot of thought...and I must 
admit...practice into it. I used it as a test of my control to 
play not quite as well as the better players but well enough to 
get the scholarship."

"Must've been frustrating at times."

"It was...and to be honest, I was glad when I could afford to 
stop playing football. I loved the game, but the stress wasn't 
worth it."

"You think that McLaren didn't want that stress?"

"Maybe."

Lois took her husband's hand. "Clark, do you think she's 
Kryptonian like you?"

"I think so, honey."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Go and talk to her."

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

Anna stepped out of the hairdresser's tossing her head. She felt 
like a TV commercial for shampoo, and she loved it. The stylist 
had cut her hair just above her shoulders and layered the sides 
so that her thick brown hair fell loosely around her face. She 
ran her fingers through her hair, no hair spray for her. She gave 
it one final toss. How long had it been since she was able to go 
with her mother to the hairdresser for a proper cut? She couldn't 
recall. The only memory she had was the frustration she felt 
before she figured out how to use her vision, like a knife, to 
cut her hair. And even then she had to leave it long so her eyes 
could see where she wanted to cut it. She would bring the braid 
over her head and zap the ends straight across.

As a teen, she so wanted to wear her hair in the latest styles, 
but she was always stuck with the same blunt cut she put into a 
braid and wore almost all the time. She looked at herself in the 
window of the store. There she was. Her hair flowing softly 
around her face. She giggled at her reflection. Then she looked 
beyond her reflection and saw a dress. Black. Spaghetti straps. A 
flowing knee length skirt. Not something a police sergeant would 
wear to a business dinner, but then she really didn't feel like a 
police sergeant today.

She wondered where she could find a piece of this Kryptonite for 
herself.

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

You've been awfully quiet since you've come 
home," Lois said to Clark as he looked absently at the plate of 
pasta salad Lois had prepared for dinner. "It is one of the few 
recipes I can make successfully...and there's very little cooking 
involved."

Oblivious to Lois's comments, Clark separated the pasta from the 
vegetables, making neat little piles of green and red on his 
plate.

"Clark?" Lois asked. She was ready to question whether the 
honeymoon was really over when Clark became aware of her 
presence.

"Sorry, honey. I guess I was preoccupied."

"About?"

"Remember I said