Honeymoon in... Vegas
By Sue S. <sistersuze@gmail.com>
Rated: PG13
Submitted: July 2007

This takes place after "The Phoenix" but before "Top Copy". I
just love that time frame in the series - when they're both
feeling the attraction between them but the revelation hasn't
happened yet. There are so many possibilities that it makes me
giddy.

This story is actually two stories combined into one because I
so liked the idea of weaving the two elements together. One is a
story challenge from DJ and the other is a suggestion from my
mom's best friend. (Never tell anyone you're writing fanfic
unless you want the whole neighborhood to know.) Since this
started out as two stories, DJ has graciously agreed to let me
count it as two in my penance. So that's three down and two to
go. If this doesn't work, it's not DJ or Brenda's fault.

For those familiar with the area, please note that this story is
taking place in 1995, not the present day. Las Vegas and the
surrounding area have changed *a lot* since then. I reference an
actual hotel in this story, but I meant no copyright
infringement. Then again, I'm blatantly writing about characters
that don't belong to me. Rest assured that I meant no copyright
infringement there either. I just wanted to take them for a
little spin and show them a good time. Whether they actually
have a good time is debatable.

<><><>
Friday afternoon
<><><>

"Married?" Martha repeated incredulously. "They're married?"

"That's what the admit forms say." The clerk looked again at the
paperwork in front of her. "You're the next of kin listed for
both of them."

Martha came back to herself and realized she was focusing on the
wrong detail. "And they're in the hospital? What happened?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't have all the details. Is there
someone else, someone in this area, maybe, that I should be
calling?"

"No, no, I'm sorry. Tell them we're on our way. You can tell
them that, can't you?" Suddenly Martha realized just how dire
the situation might be. "Is that why you're calling? Because
they can't?"

"Um, well..." The clerk hesitated and then her tone softened
somewhat. "I'm sorry, I really don't know. I was just asked to
contact someone, a family member or a legal representative, and
ask them to come here to make decisions regarding their care."

<><><>
The previous Monday
<><><>

"He's got a suitcase, Lois. He's leaving Metropolis. What are
you going to do? Follow him onto the plane?"

"If I have to," Lois snapped back at him. "You know we're right,
Clark! That man is slime. He's worse than slime. And we had him,
dead to rights. Perry was insane to make us rewrite the story."

Clark sighed and followed Lois as she doggedly continued to
trail Mickey Raddatz through the airport terminal. It wasn't too
hard to accomplish. Mickey was a large man wearing a neon green,
orange and blue Hawaiian shirt.

"Lois, Perry was right. That story straddled the very fine line
that exists between libel and reporting. Until Mickey does
something that we can prove, we can't print speculation."

"Then we'll just follow him until we see him do something," Lois
said in exasperation. "Bobby said something big was going down
and I believe him."

They followed Mickey through Security and then to gate C3.
Mickey chatted briefly with the ticket agent and then went into
the nearby first class lounge, pocketing his newly acquired
ticket on the way.

Lois stepped up to the gate's desk and glanced up at the marquee
behind the agent. It read 'Flight 563, Las Vegas, 3:05 p.m.'

"I need to get on this flight," she told the agent behind the
podium. Lois leaned heavily against the ticket counter as if she
meant to try and get a look at the woman's computer screen.

"Do you have a reservation?" the agent asked as she adjusted her
screen slightly away from Lois.

"I, uh, no," Lois admitted. "But didn't the man in front of me
just get a ticket for this flight?"

"He had a reservation," the agent told her with what Lois felt
was a trace of mockery.

"He was flying to Las Vegas?" Lois clarified.

The woman ignored her and gave Clark a tight smile. "How many
are flying?" she asked him.

"Two," Clark answered with a smile. He'd been on the receiving
end of far too many of Lois' irritated tirades not to feel some
empathy for the ticket agent. She was only doing her job.

"Well..." The woman tapped on her keyboard for nearly a minute
before looking up at them again. "I can get you both on the
flight but you won't be sitting by each other. Is this
round-trip?"

"Yes," Lois said. "Just give us an open-ended return. How much
will that be?"

"Fifteen hundred," the agent answered.

"Dollars?" Lois was aghast. "Fifteen hundred dollars? Are you
serious?"

"That's to be expected when you purchase a last minute fare,"
the woman said matter-of-factly.

Lois grumbled under her breath as she pulled out her wallet and
contemplated the credit cards inside. Not that card. Or that
one.

"Here, use this." Clark handed the agent his credit card and
inwardly sighed at the injustice of having to waste fifteen
hundred dollars and five hours to do something he could have
accomplished in a minute's time for absolutely nothing. His only
other alternative was to tell Lois his secret but she was
already in a foul mood and he doubted she'd take the news well.
He did allow himself one small dig at her expense. "You'd better
pray that I get reimbursed for this trip or you're going to owe
me seven-fifty."

Their flight was called, but Mickey didn't board with the other
first class passengers. Lois stood up and began to pace in the
small space between the windows and Clark's chair. Clark glanced
over the top of his glasses and into the first class lounge.
Mickey was reading a paper and appeared in no great hurry to
leave.

"Why Las Vegas?" Lois mused out loud. "Isn't that where Big Joe
went after the gangland showdown last year? Do you think
Mickey's going to meet with him? Maybe those rumors about them
working together were true after all."

Clark shrugged. "Or maybe the rumors about Mickey being a
gambling addict are true."

Lois stared out the window at the plane they were about to
board. "Do you think Big Joe is going to try and come back to
Metropolis?"

"If I were going to stage a coup, Mickey Raddatz is the last
felon I'd ask for help." Clark shrugged. "Maybe Mickey is only
the go-between for someone else?"

Lois nervously cracked her knuckles. "Why isn't he boarding the
plane? Do you think he knows that we're following him?"

"Maybe he's one of those people who boards at the last possible
moment?" Clark suggested.

Lois frowned at him and turned to pace another circuit.

"Here's what we do," Clark said. "We board the plane and watch
to see if Mickey does too. If he doesn't, we'll get off the
plane. They're calling your section now, just go. I'll get on
and watch for him since I'm closer to the front."

"Why do you get to sit closest to the front?" she asked
peevishly.

"I need a window seat," he answered. "I get airsick if I can't
see outside."

Her face split in a sudden grin. "You hate to fly," she said
with a touch of gleeful spite. "Don't you?"

"I hate flying in planes," Clark muttered.

"I know," Lois said with a sigh. "I'd rather fly with Superman."
She gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Fine, you can
have the window seat. Just stand up and wave at me if we need to
get off the plane or give me a thumb's up if Mickey gets on."

Ten minutes later Clark stood up and searched for seat 37C. He
caught Lois' eye and gave her a thumb's up.

<><><>

When they landed Clark was able to get off the plane long before
Lois. He followed Mickey, hoping that Lois would understand and
not berate him too much when she finally caught up to him.
Mickey stopped at one of the bookstores and was perusing the
best sellers when Lois came barreling past Clark. He caught her
arm and pulled her into the coffee shop that he was using as a
vantage point.

"He's in there." Clark nodded in Mickey's direction. Then he
tilted his head with interest. Mickey was muttering something
under his breath to the man standing next to him. Clark tried to
listen in but was unable to hear anything distinct between the
crowds of travelers rushing past and Lois' eager questions about
what Mickey had done so far. "I don't know," he said to Lois,
completely distracted and not quite certain if his answer even
fit her question.

Mickey began to walk again and they slipped into the stream of
people behind him. Mickey skipped the baggage carousel and went
directly outside to the taxi stand. Clark overheard him say "the
Palace" as he got into a cab.

<><><>

They were standing in the lobby of the Palace, turning in small
circles as they watched for Mickey in the people milling around
inside. The front desk clerk had offered to leave a message for
Mr. Raddatz but would not give them his room number.

"Maybe we should sit here and wait for him come back through?"
Clark suggested.

"Do you know how many exits there are in this place?" Lois
snapped at him.

Just then Clark spotted Mickey. Unfortunately it was obvious
that Mickey had just seen them as well.

"Uh oh," he muttered under his breath to Lois. "He sees us."

Lois turned around to see Mickey walking towards them with a
deceptively affable smile on his face. He said something to the
four burly men in equally garish tropical shirts trailing him
and they held back as he approached them.

"Lane and Kent? Is that you?"

Out of ideas and feeling like a deer in headlights, Clark nodded
and pretended to be surprised. "Mickey Raddatz. Imagine the
luck, running into you here."

"It's a small world, ain't it? What are you two doin' in
Vegas?"

Lois bit back the impulse to say 'following you, you idiot' and
blurted out the first thing that popped into her head. "Uh,
we're eloping."

Mickey's thick features widened into huge grin. "Love, ah,
love." He put his hands over his heart and feigned a sigh.
"That's beautiful. When are you gettin' hitched?"

"We just got here," Clark said as he awkwardly put his arm
around Lois's shoulders. "We were going to get a room first."

Mickey's eyes took on a lascivious gleam. "You musta come out on
the same flight as me. Only I don't see no luggage. Did ya leave
Metropolis in one hot hurry, kids?"

"Uh..." Lois said. Why hadn't she told him something else? She
could have told him that they were here to do a story on
compulsive gambling or something - *anything* - else.

Mickey let out a leering chuckle. "Could hardly wait to get your
hands on her, huh?" He elbowed Clark knowingly and Clark
blushed.

"No, that wasn't it," Clark protested.

"Sure," Mickey said congenially and winked at him. "I
understand. It's a good thing we bumped into each other. They
got four conventions in town this week, and you're never gonna
get a decent room without some string-pulling. Which, by the by,
I am happy to do for ya. I know you two covered a few, uh,
indiscretions for me last week. I couldn't believe it when that
little run-in we had didn't make the papers. I owe you big
time."

"Oh, no..." Lois started to say but Mickey waved away her
objections.

"I won't take no for an answer. I insist. I know the perfect
wedding chapel. Got married there myself once or twice. No,
maybe it was three times. Anyway, the minister is a friend of
mine. He'll take good care of you. You gotta wedding license
yet?"

"Oh no, really..." Clark tried but Mickey had insinuated himself
between them and was propelling them towards the door.

"We'll get you two hitched, have a celebratory dinner, and then
I'll leave you two love birds on your own."

"No, really, Mickey, it's very nice of you to offer, but it's
not necessary," Lois tried again.

"Ain't you never heard about offers you can't refuse?" Mickey
huffed as he opened the back door of a waiting taxi. "I'm gonna
be insulted if you tell me no, kids. You're here to get married;
I'm here to help. Now get in the car." There was the faintest
trace of impatience in his voice and they both realized that he
wasn't entirely buying their story about eloping.

Lois looked up at Clark. He shrugged and said, "It's your call,
honey."

She glanced at Mickey and then over at the bodyguards who had
trailed him outside and were waiting to get in the next cab.

"Come on then, Clark," she said and tried to appear
enthusiastic. "Let's get married."

<><><>

Mickey apparently knew everyone in Las Vegas. They stopped at
the Bureau of Marriage Licenses on the way to the wedding chapel
and he had them in and out in twenty minutes with their license
in hand. Lois had been desperately trying to think of a graceful
way to back out, but no other options presented themselves. It
didn't help that each of Mickey's friends obviously had a poorly
concealed weapon beneath their brightly colored tropical
shirts.

"Mr. Raddatz! How delightful to see you again!" A tall, thin man
was crossing the lobby of the wedding chapel with his hands
extended to greet them. He had two little puffs of white hair
just behind his ears and the rest of his scalp was bright pink.
"And this must be your charming bride!" He took Lois' hands in
his - they were startlingly cold - and she flinched at his
touch.

"Nah, Reverend Bob, not mine." Mickey slapped Clark on the back.
"This is the lucky man. They're friends of mine. I'm just here
to share their joy."

"Wonderful! What kind of a ceremony did you two want? Religious?
Civil?"

"Just the usual," Lois told him. "Nothing special." Sunscreen,
she thought as she looked at the top of Bob's sunburned head.
How did someone live in Las Vegas and not know about sunscreen?

"Nothing special? My dear, we have nothing but special memories
here." Reverend Bob waved away her words. "Have you written your
own vows?"

"No." Lois wasn't sure if it was nerves or irritation, but she
had the feeling her skin was about to crawl away on its own.
"We'll just do the 'love, honor, cherish' bit, okay?"

"Obey," Mickey corrected her. "It's love, honor and obey."

"Then I guess I have written my vows because I'm not promising
to 'obey' anyone," Lois shot back.

Reverend Bob laughed. "We'll go with something traditional, yet
modern. Any thoughts on music?"

"No music." Lois gestured impatiently. "Can't we just get this
over with?"

"Do you have rings?"

"We don't," Clark answered. "We only decided to get married this
morning."

"I'll buy you the rings," Mickey said jovially. "My treat."

"No, thank you. It's not necessary," Lois replied. "Really.
You've done far too much for us as it is."

Mickey spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. "Suit
yourselves. No rings then."

Reverend Bob tapped a finger against his lips as he considered
the couple before him. "Well, it would appear this is going to
be an intimate affair. We'll just use the little chapel." He
took Lois' arm, startling her yet again with his cold hands, and
guided her in the direction of the chapel. Clark, Mickey, and
the thugs followed dutifully behind.

Reverend Bob shuffled and nudged Clark and Lois so that they
were facing each other and then he went to stand before them.
Mickey and his friends settled themselves on the folding chairs
of the front row.

"Please join hands," Reverend Bob prompted.

Clark took Lois' hands in his. His body seemed to be moving
slower and entirely independent of his control. Her hands
trembled a little in his as she tilted her head back to look up
at him. Their eyes met and he squeezed her fingers in
reassurance.

Nervous - why the hell was she feeling nervous? Lois grinned at
the sheer absurdity of the moment and felt immeasurably better
when Clark grinned back at her.

'Hi,' she mouthed at him, feeling a blush rising in her cheeks
when his lips moved to return the greeting. She rolled her eyes,
embarrassed that she actually felt apprehensive about this. It
wasn't like she was *really* marrying him. They could probably
have this annulled before they even left Vegas. Even so, part of
her wished she had taken the time to check her makeup. After the
long airplane flight she could have used some freshening up.
She'd had no idea when she picked out this suit this morning
that she would be getting married in it. No, not really married,
but still... she would have gone with a lighter color or
something. She had that one cream-colored suit - or even a dress
- instead of this serviceable and boring brown ensemble.

Her mind was jerked back to the present when she realized that
Reverend Bob was starting.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the
marriage of..." Reverend Bob looked down at the index card he
was holding. "Clark and Lois. Clark, will you repeat after me?"

Clark repeated the words slowly, as Lois gazed up at him,
looking just as bemused as he felt. "I, Clark, take you, Lois,
for my lawful wife."

Wife. The word echoed in Clark's mind as Reverend Bob smiled
beatifically at him and recited the next words Clark was
supposed to say. He was marrying Lois. When they were finished
she would be his lawful wife. Suddenly it didn't matter to him
that this was only temporary. Whether they were married or not,
the promises he was about to make were sincere.

Clark savored the weight and meaning of each syllable as he
spoke his vows to Lois. "To have and to hold from this day
forward... forsaking all others... for better or for worse...
for richer or for poorer... in sickness and in health... to
love, honor and cherish until death parts us."

Lois blinked rapidly, feeling her knees weaken as she realized
it was her turn. Clark had done it; she could too. She dazedly
mimicked Bob's words, not entirely sure she was actually
speaking. "I, Lois, take you, Clark, for my lawful husband."

She looked into Clark's eyes and felt the oddest sense of calm
reassurance. They were in this together - there was something
heartening about that fact. Usually when she did something
stupid she was alone in her actions. This time she was only half
at fault. She smiled as she spoke the next words, thinking of
their almost-date and the way just being close to him could
sometimes addle her mind. "To have and to hold from this day
forward..."

Clark returned the smile, setting off an excited little flutter
in the pit of her stomach. Having and holding him wasn't an
unpleasant thought. "Forsaking all others..." She could hardly
wait to get back to Metropolis and watch him explain to Mayson
Drake that they were, albeit temporarily, married. "For better
or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in
health, to love, honor and cherish until death parts us."

Lois was breathless as she finished speaking. Even if she wasn't
actually making this promise, they were still *the* words. She
had never thought she would ever say them to anyone without
meaning them. She comforted herself that she could consider this
just a dress rehearsal.

Reverend Bob beamed at them. "By the authority vested in me by
the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may
kiss the bride."

Mickey and his bodyguards were all clapping heartily as Clark
tipped Lois' chin up to kiss her. Someone let out a whistle and
he decided to make at least one thing about this ceremony
authentic. He took her upper lip between his, tipping her head
back so he could kiss her with feeling. He could taste the faint
flavor of diet cola - she must have drunk one on the plane. He
used the tip of his tongue to tease away the sweetness that had
lingered on her lip.

He ended the kiss and she looked up him with wide, shocked eyes.
For a moment he thought she was going to slap him. Instead, she
took in an unsteady breath and then let out a nervous giggle as
her cheeks turned red. Giddy with the realization that,
regardless of the circumstances, they were actually married,
Clark leaned down to whisper the words he had secretly hoped he
might someday say to her. "Hello, Mrs. Kent."

The burn on her cheeks became hotter and Lois turned away from
him to accept the congratulations of Mickey and his goons.

*<"...Mrs. Kent..."> *

It was a good thing that he had no idea just how thrilling that
name sounded to her. Admit it, she told herself. You've got a
crush on your husband.

<><><>
Friday afternoon
<><><>

"Clark's in the hospital?" Jonathan dusted his hands off on the
seat of his pants. "What do you mean Clark's in the hospital?
What happened?"

"I don't know. They wouldn't tell me. They said they needed
someone to come and make medical decisions for him and Lois."

"Lois is in the hospital?" Jonathan shook his head in
bewilderment. "Why would they ask us to make medical decisions
for Lois?"

"Because they're married," Martha said as if that should have
been blatantly obvious.

"They're... what?" Jonathan wondered if Martha had decided to
tipple the afternoon away. That thought made about as much sense
as Clark being in the hospital or unexpectedly married.

"Go get cleaned up." Martha waved at the house. "I'll call the
airline."

He was about to argue with her, or lean closer to smell her
breath, when the nervous flutter of her hands caught his
attention. Martha wasn't pulling a prank on him. She was in
earnest.

"Twenty minutes," he told her. "I can be ready in twenty
minutes." He took hold of her hands to stop them from shaking.
"There's no sense in worrying until we know what's happened."

"He's in a hospital," Martha said softly, as if the repetition
of the words held the secret to explaining them. She squeezed
her husband's hand, knowing that he understood as well as she
did that Clark being in the hospital was reason enough to worry,
let alone that he couldn't make decisions for himself. Or Lois,
she reminded her herself. If there was one thing she knew with
certainty, it was that Clark would protect Lois to his last
breath. If they were both in a hospital, it meant that Clark
was...

Martha closed her eyes, unable to finish that thought.

<><><>
The previous Monday night
<><><>

"Sorry it ain't the honeymoon suite," Mickey said as they rode
in the elevator. "But you just need a bed and a door that locks,
am I right?" He let out a long laugh at his own lame joke and
one of his bodyguards joined in. The man had a flattened nose
and Lois wondered who had broken it for him and why.

The elevator stopped on the twelfth floor and the doors opened.
Clark and Lois both stepped out, grateful to be away from Mickey
and his crew. Mickey continued to ramble on, "I'll meet you in
the lobby at seven o'clock for dinner. Don't you stand me up or
I'll..." The doors closed, cutting off the rest of his words.

"Twelve-twenty," Lois muttered to herself as she walked down the
hallway in search of their room. She felt desperate to keep
moving, to be doing something. Otherwise she was going to start
thinking and she hated to admit to herself that she had no idea
what to do next. "Twelve-twenty, twelve-twenty." She stopped in
front of their room and tried the key card in the door. The
light flickered red and she let out an exasperated sigh and
tried again. This time the light went green and she pressed down
on the handle and opened the door.

"Don't you want me to carry you over the threshold?" Clark
teased as she moved inside.

She ignored him and tossed her purse onto the king-size bed as
she strode over to the window to look outside. The view of the
fountains in front of the casino did nothing to quell the
claustrophobia she was feeling. She had thought she'd feel
better after she got away from Mickey's leers and dirty jokes,
but she still felt trapped.

She was married. *Married!* To Clark. She was married to Clark.
If she kept repeating the words she was sure they would start to
make sense soon. What on earth had possessed her to agree to
this? Other than a completely rational fear of Mickey and his
gun-toting buddies?  She turned away from the window to see
Clark dialing the phone.

"Who are you calling?" she asked suspiciously.

"Perry," he answered. "I figured we'd better tell him where we
are."

"Are you insane?" Lois rushed over and pushed down on the
receiver to cut off the call. "What are you going to tell him?
That we followed Mickey to Vegas, promptly got caught, and then,
oh, by the way, we had to get married so that Mickey wouldn't
sic his goons on us?"

"I was going to leave out the marriage part."

Lois narrowed her eyes at him. "Let's wait until after dinner to
call Perry. Maybe Mickey will spill his guts after a couple of
bottles of wine."

Clark hung up the phone. "Whatever you say, dear."

"Don't get cute with me," she threatened.

"Or what?" he asked, tilting his head in curiosity. "The
honeymoon is over?"

Heat rushed to her face and she couldn't think of a single
snappy retort for him. "There is no honeymoon," she hissed.
"We're getting this annulled as soon as possible."

"Of course," Clark said, knowing that his tone was just soothing
enough to increase her irritation. "But that doesn't mean we
can't enjoy the free honeymoon while it lasts."

Lois let out an exasperated sigh. "Don't be stupid. If we
consummate this marriage, we can't annul it!"

He grinned at her in delight. "Lois, who said anything about
consummating this marriage?"

For a moment she simply gaped at him, horrified that he had
trapped her so effortlessly in her own words. Where was her
mind? It was so unfair that the teensiest little part of her
wished that the kiss he had given her back in that gaudy wedding
chapel had been the real thing. Even knowing that it was just
for show had not stopped her toes from curling. It had been just
the right mix of soft and demanding and it had brought back
memories of another kiss he had given her under equally false
marital circumstances. Clark's pretend kisses always seemed to
promise so much more - it made her restless to know what a real
kiss from him would be like.

The pleased little smile he was giving her now was the same as
when he had called her 'Mrs. Kent' earlier. It irked her even
more to realize that he was enjoying having a laugh at her
expense. Lois opened and closed her mouth a few times but
couldn't think of an insult to hurl at him. To her immense
relief there was a knock on the door to distract her.

When she opened the door the man with the flat nose held out a
garment bag to her. "Mrs. Kent," he said in a mocking sing-song
voice. "Mickey asked me to deliver this to you. He wanted me to
remind you two not to disappoint him for dinner."

Lois numbly accepted the bag, draping it over her arm as the man
gave her a slow once-over. She slammed the door shut and
impulsively threw both the lock and the security latch for good
measure.

"What is it?" Clark asked from behind her.

"Something Mickey sent over." She hung the bag on the wall hook
near the desk and unzipped it.

"Mickey sent you a dress?" Clark fought to hide a smile. He was
absolutely certain that Lois was going to snap out of her daze
soon and he'd be a dead man for teasing her. But that didn't
mean he couldn't enjoy the cognitive dissonance of being so
unexpectedly married to her while it lasted. She might have
thought the kiss he gave her after they were pronounced man and
wife was for the benefit of Mickey and his entourage - and it
was - but for just a moment he had let himself pretend he was
really hers.

Lois removed the dress from the garment bag. It was red -
Superman red - and she was dismayed to see how plunging the
neckline was. "Does he really think I'll wear this? I'm going to
look like a call girl!"

"A high-priced call girl, if it makes you feel any better,"
Clark teased. She frowned at him and he managed to look vaguely
chagrined. "If you don't want to wear the dress, Lois, don't
wear the dress. Put it back in the bag and return it to him at
dinner."

"I don't know..." Lois held the dress against her experimentally
and looked at her reflection in the mirror above the desk. It
was a halter-top dress, so she'd have to forgo wearing a bra.
"Do *you* think I should wear the dress?"

That had to be a trick question but he answered her with a
mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Are you asking your husband or
your partner on this stakeout?"

Their eyes met in the mirror and she tilted her head in
curiosity. "Does it matter?"

"Sure, it matters. If you wear that dress, we might not need to
ply Mickey with wine to get him to talk." Clark risked her ire
and flashed her a grin.

The risk paid off and she grinned back at him. "So, as my
partner, the answer is 'yes'?"

He nodded.

Lois raised an eyebrow, spotting an opportunity to make him pay
for his comment about consummating the marriage. "And as my
husband? What would you say then?"

Clark looked at the way the dress was draped over her soft
curves and found he had to clear his throat to answer. "I'd say
I was the luckiest man in the world."

Feeling emboldened by the admiration on his face and absolutely
certain she was about to break even on the conversation, Lois
winked at him in the mirror. "Ply me with enough wine and maybe
*you'll* get lucky tonight." The gamble paid off and Clark
hurriedly looked away, but not before she saw him blush. She
brushed past him before he could form a response and felt like
her equilibrium had been restored.

<><><>

Lois scrutinized her reflection in the bathroom mirror. There
wasn't much she could do with her hair. The dress was a little
big on her, which meant that she had to keep her shoulders back
or she was going to give everyone more than cleavage to look at.
Suddenly seized with inspiration, she rifled through her purse
and found a small brooch. She pinned the dress together at her
breasts and felt much better. Not only did it make her look less
slutty, but it also helped soothe her fears of accidental
exposure.

She took one last deep breath, smoothed her hair nervously, and
then opened the door. Clark was standing across the room near
the window. He turned around when she asked, "Well, how do I
look?"

Clark froze, his gaze momentarily stuck below her face. "Uh, you
look... wow. You look amazing."

"Really?" She turned around slowly to give him a view of her
bare back. She had decided to wear the dress simply to see
Clark's reaction and, so far, he wasn't disappointing her. It
was only fair to reward his interest. She walked towards him,
noting with delight the distracted look on his face. Lois
brushed some imaginary lint from his lapel and then smoothed his
tie unnecessarily. "Shall we go?" she asked and took his arm.

They stepped out of the elevator to find Mickey, now dressed in
a suit, waiting for them. Clark looked around but he couldn't
see the bodyguards anywhere nearby.

"Lois!" Mickey let out a wolf whistle. "I shoulda married you
myself. You look so good, I could ravish you five times before
we even got back to the room."

"Hey," Clark said as his arm went around Lois's shoulders
possessively. "You're talking about my wife."

Mickey blinked in surprise at the low threat in Clark's voice.
He took a step back and held up his hands. "Down boy. I meant no
disrespect."

Caught off-guard by his possessive words and touch, Lois glanced
up at her partner. She had never seen Clark look so stern and
imposing before - and yet his expression was so familiar. She
gave Mickey a tight smile. "Let's just go and eat now, shall
we?"

<><><>

After dinner, Mickey told them to order dessert on his tab and
then excused himself. Both Clark and Lois rose to follow as soon
as he disappeared from the restaurant. They trailed him through
the casino and outside to the fountains. Mickey stood near a
fountain, smoking a cigar and repeatedly checking his watch.
Clark and Lois lingered in the colonnade and watched as another
man came up to Mickey and appeared to ask for a light. Clark
tried to eavesdrop but there were too many people around and the
splash of the water in the fountains was distracting. He could
only catch snatches of their conversation.

"You're the lip reader. What are they saying?" Lois asked
impatiently.

"Something about a shipment, Big Joe, and tomorrow, nine o'clock
at Hoover Dam," Clark said.

"Big Joe?  A shipment?  A shipment of what?"

Clark ducked behind a column as Mickey turned and began walking
towards them. Lois pressed up close against him to avoid
detection. Clark gulped as he was treated to a glimpse of the
inner swell of one breast just before it was decisively pushed
against his ribs. He cautioned himself to never again even
glance at anything lower than her shoulders. While he couldn't
forgive Mickey for saying it out loud, he understood perfectly
how looking at Lois in that dress had made the gangster feel. He
hadn't been able to look squarely at her all the way through
dinner.

"Did he see us?" Lois asked quietly, taking hold of his arm for
balance as she peeked over his shoulder. Almost the entire
length of her body was now pressed tightly against his, not to
mention the fact that she was breathing so close to his throat
that he could close his eyes and almost imagine they were
necking.

"I don't think so. Is he gone?" His voice was unsteady but he
was hoping she'd just put it down to him trying to be quiet and
unobtrusive.

Lois nodded but didn't move away from him. Her entire body had
gone on alert the moment it had come into contact with his. She
wished he would put his hand on her back or do something to make
it look like they were having a romantic encounter. Just one
kiss - how could it hurt to sweeten the ruse with a kiss? That
kiss he had given her back at the wedding chapel had been
amazing... and completely for show. Yet again her imagination
ran wild, wondering what it would be like to kiss him for real.

Married, the voice in her head mocked her. You're married to him
now - you should be able to kiss him whenever you want. Try it -
just see if he feels the same way. Except she knew that he
didn't - not really. He might like her, but Clark had scarcely
even looked in her direction all through dinner, and that snub
still stung. Here they were, standing close enough to look like
lovers, and he wasn't even going to try and take advantage of
the opportunity. Disappointment filtered through her - he wasn't
going to do anything. Apparently he was only willing to be
affectionate when he knew that Mickey was watching them. Like
earlier when he had cautioned Mickey that she was his wife. She
had felt the phantom weight of his hand on her bare shoulder
long after he had stopped touching her. The exposed skin on her
back ached for the warmth of a hand she knew wasn't
forthcoming.

"Come on." Clark stepped away from the column and the sweet
temptation of her body pressed against his and headed in the
direction of the swanky shops attached to the hotel. "As much as
I like that dress on you, I don't think you want to wear it to
Hoover Dam tomorrow."

<><><>

"So what did Perry have to say?" Lois asked as she came out of
the bathroom.

Clark was sitting against the headboard of the bed with his
shoes off and the television on. He looked over at her and then
smiled. "Wow, it's every bridegroom's dream. Are those flannel
pajamas?"

"They're not flannel, they're cotton." And they were the least
sexy pajamas that she could find in the shop.

His attention shifted back to the television and he picked up
the remote to change the channel. "You can rest assured that
they don't make me want to ravish you five times."

A little tiny piece of her suddenly wished she had bought the
silk nightie with spaghetti straps. Maybe it was only female
pride, but couldn't he want to ravish her - just a little? Would
it kill him to admit he was attracted to her?

"Perry said we'd better come back with a heck of a story or an
incontrovertible Elvis sighting." Clark stood up and walked
towards the bathroom. "Are you done in there?"

"Yeah, go ahead." Lois picked up the remote from the night stand
and sat where Clark had just been sitting. She reached behind
her to plump the pillow.

"Don't get too comfortable over there. I believe I get the bed
this time," Clark said, "seeing as how you got the bed on our
last honeymoon."

"Take the bed." She shrugged and waved at the cushy armchair
near the window. "I'll sleep in the chair."

Lois waited for him to soften, to tell her that he'd do the
chivalrous thing and take the chair. Or even to suggest that
they could share - it was a big bed after all. Instead, he
picked up the bag containing his newly purchased pajamas and
disappeared into the bathroom.

When Clark came back out, she had gone to stand at the window.
He sat on the other side of the bed, the one furthest from the
window, in the hopes that she really wouldn't sleep in the
chair. The television was still on and he pretended to watch it,
but he could only think about Lois.

Wife. She was his wife. It was both a dream come true and a
waking nightmare. He stared at the television without really
seeing it and wondered what she would say if he told her about
Superman right now. Would she want to stay married to him if she
knew the truth? Clark fought a sigh - he couldn't tell her. It
was the wrong time, wrong place, wrong situation. He glanced
over at her to find that she was watching him curiously.

"Weird, huh?" she asked softly.

"What is?"

"This." She spread her hands to indicate him and the room in
general. "When I pictured my wedding night, this was not how I
imagined it."

"Oh yeah?" Clark sat up a little straighter. "How did you
imagine it?"

Lois rolled her eyes. "Well, for one thing, it wasn't going to
be a shotgun wedding."

Clark grinned. "Lois, where I come from a shotgun wedding means
the bride is pregnant. Do you have something you want to tell
me?"

She blushed and moved away from the window. "Okay, then, what
would you call it when we practically got married at gunpoint?"

"In our case?" He tipped his head back and thought about it for
a few seconds. Then he shrugged and looked over at her. "I guess
I'd call it a shotgun wedding."

Lois smiled at him, pleased that he had conceded the point so
readily. "Do you think he knows? Mickey, I mean. Do you think he
knows that we're just out here to follow him?"

Clark considered her question. "Maybe. It feels like he's
messing with us, doesn’t it?"

Lois moved closer to the bed, trying to work up her courage to
sit on it at the same time as him. "I just hate having to wait
until tomorrow to find out why he's here and what he's up to.
What if we're wrong, Clark? What if we followed him all the way
here, went to all this trouble, and he's just sightseeing?"

Clark smiled at her. "Then you're going to owe me seven hundred
and fifty dollars."

Lois let out a soft laugh. "And an annulment."

"Oh, I don't know." His smile widened, melting what little
resolve she had left. "I sort of like being married to you."

Her knees wobbled and she plopped down on the corner of the bed.
Married, her mind chanted over and over. You're married. To
Clark. You're married to Clark. Just kiss him.

Clark was about to ask her to move since she was now blocking
his view of the television, but the rapid beat of her heart and
the stutter of her breath stopped him. "Are you okay?" he
asked.

Lois shrugged. She didn't quite trust her voice and she was
afraid that if she moved now she might just crawl into bed and
ask him to snuggle with her.

"Come to bed," he said softly.

Lois shivered, unable to hold back a gasp at the promise those
words could have held. She didn't budge from the corner of the
bed, even when she heard him move and felt the mattress shift
slightly. Clark moved in front of her but she kept her gaze
fixed on the floor. Alone, alone, alone. She was all alone with
him in this room and that realization was making her feel
awkward and shy. What if he kissed her? What if *she* kissed
him? Right now? Right here? What would he do?

"You can have the bed," he said quietly. "I'll take the chair."

She finally dared to look up and their eyes met. Her heart
hammered painfully in her chest as she realized that he wasn't
going to kiss her. He was just going to walk away. He was going
to sleep in the chair. She was going to have to lie in bed all
night, just a few feet away from him, and listen to him breathe
and wish that she had been brave enough to kiss him. Her mind
raced to find a reason for him to stay right where he was. He
started to turn away and she stood up and grabbed his arm to
stall him.

"Wait." The word seemed to have escaped without her quite
meaning to say anything.

Clark faced her again and she dropped her hand from his arm.
"What is it?" he asked.

"I know this is backwards," she said, her mouth moving rapidly
to drown out the shrieks of 'No! Don't!' in her mind. "And it's
awkward and weird and yet, I kind of like being married. To you,
I mean. Tonight, when you put Mickey in his place, it was nice.
I can fight my own battles - that's not it. I just like having
someone - you - to back me up."

He smiled and she felt a welling of emotion as he softly assured
her, "I'll always back you up, Lois. Always."

"I know that. I guess it was having you call me your wife that
made it seem so much more... authoritative, you know? I know you
like me, at least a little. After all, you have asked me out,
even if we never actually went on a date. And now we're married
and I've never even kissed you. Not for real, I mean. It's
always been because someone was threatening us in some way. Just
once I'd like to kiss you without worrying about whether we're
going to survive it."

Danger, his mind cautioned him. Danger! They were legally wed
and all alone in a hotel room thousands of miles from home. She
had never looked more beautiful or more vulnerable than she did
right now in modest pajamas as her eyes anxiously searched his.
He glanced away, focusing on the narrow ribbon of light where
the curtains weren't quite closed. There was an entire world out
there - one that he usually couldn't block out. Tonight the only
sounds he could hear were the frantic beat of his own heart and
the nervous resonance of her breathing.

"If you don't want to, that's fine. Forget I said anything."
Lois felt like an idiot. Clark liked her; she was sure of that.
But he had also spent the two weeks since their almost date
running out on her at the oddest times, just like he always had.
The man obviously had some severe commitment issues. Her
negative thoughts were scattered when his hand cupped her
cheek.

"A real kiss?" he asked, just to make sure he understood her.
"Are you sure?"

All the air seemed to have been squeezed out of her lungs.
Before she could lose her nerve, she went on tiptoe and kissed
him - just the slightest, softest brush of her lips against his.
His lips parted as she was about to pull away and she found
herself kissing him again, taking that full lower lip of his
between hers and paying it back for all the distraction it had
caused her since the words, 'You may now kiss the bride.' Her
hands went to his shoulders to brace herself. The realization of
just how wide and solid his shoulders were sent a shiver through
her. Husband! He was her husband! She swayed closer to him,
dizzy with the knowledge that she was *kissing her husband*.

His arms closed around her, one hand tipping her head back to
rest in his palm as his mouth moved against hers again and
again. His kiss was gentle and yet there was an urgency to it,
an intensity that built with each pull of his mouth on hers. His
arms tightened around her, holding her securely against him.
Lois gave in to the tender demands of his kisses and his arms,
feeling as though her entire body was melting into his. She
combed her fingers into his hair and made the softest moan of
pleasure.

It was her moan that was his undoing. Clark couldn't get close
enough, couldn't taste her nearly enough now. He sank to the
edge of the bed and she came with him. Her only response was to
make that sound again as she tipped them sideways onto the bed,
entangled in each other's arms. He coaxed her mouth to open
further so his tongue could taste hers. She let out a throaty
whimper and he rolled them so he was on top. He wanted to know -
just once - how it felt to kiss her without caution or
restraint.

Lois was beyond thinking. The only thing she understood anymore
was sensation. Her body and her mind wanted only one thing and
that was for Clark not to stop. Ever. If he stopped now she was
quite certain she'd die from either desire or embarrassment.
Maybe both. Her hands wandered over the muscular contours of his
back. For two years she had carefully suppressed the sometimes
irresistible urge to touch him. The few glimpses she had been
afforded of his physique had only whet her curiosity for what
really touching him would be like. Tonight it was as if
Christmas had unexpectedly come early and she wasn't about to
squander the opportunity. Her hands slipped beneath the hem of
his t-shirt to explore the tactile pleasures of warm flesh and
firm muscle that had for far too long been off-limits to her.

Clark groaned into her mouth and his kiss turned even hungrier
and more insistent. His entire world consisted of nothing but
the way her body fit beneath his. Her kisses were eager and her
hands were stroking over his skin, deepening his need to have
her. She wanted him. Right now, at this moment, she wanted him.
But what was going to happen after tonight? As much as he wanted
her right now, he wanted this - if it ever *actually* happened -
to be real. And that was never going to happen if he let this go
any further than it already had.

"Lois," he whispered as he broke their kiss. "Oh god, Lois, we
have to stop."

She knew he was right. This was a bad idea. You should never
kiss a co-worker when he's temporarily your husband. Nothing
good could come of it. Lois knew that, and yet she kissed him
again, arching up beneath him so that he rolled obligingly and
she could straddle him. Just one more kiss, she told herself as
her body settled on his. Or one more minute. Yes, that was it.
One more minute and they would stop.

Clark forced his hands above his head in a gesture of surrender.
He had finally found his limits, found the one thing besides
Kryptonite that he was powerless against. His wife. His legal,
lawful, wedded wife. He had thought she felt amazing beneath
him, but that was nothing compared to how she felt astride him,
her body pressing against his in all the right places as her
mouth teased his. Clark turned his head to the side, clenching
his fists to keep from touching her again.

"Please. We have to stop. I can't keep going like this." His
voice was thicker than usual and her inner muscles contracted
when she recognized the raw need in his tone. Lois came back to
reality in a rush and scrambled off of the bed for the safety of
the bathroom.

Once inside, she fought to get her breathing under control as
she berated herself over and over again. She shouldn't have
kissed him. She shouldn't have pushed him back on the bed. Or,
at the very least, she should have stopped the first time he
asked her. What must he think of her now? It was beyond
mortifying to consider.

From nowhere tears appeared on her cheeks, and she swiped
angrily at them as she tried to shake off the haze of desire
that still had her pulse racing. She looked at her dazed
expression in the mirror and shook her head in disgust. Of all
the stupid cliches - she had locked herself, crying, in the
bathroom on her wedding night. Worse still - she wasn't coming
out of there until she was sure he was asleep. After several
calming deep breaths she sat down on the edge of the tub and
examined her cuticles.

It was a good thing her purse was already in here. She was in
dire need of a manicure, she had an emery board handy, and she
finally had plenty of time to give them a thorough working
over.

<><><>
Friday night
<><><>

They were chasing the sunset into the western sky as Jonathan
watched the ground far below them. He had examined each of the
confusing facts that Martha had given him over and over - and
they still made no sense to him.

Clark was married to Lois? His son was in love with his partner
- that wasn't the questionable part. Lois might be impetuous,
but Jonathan still couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that
they had eloped to Las Vegas without breathing a word to anyone.
Clark would have called to tell them.

It was possible that they had been posing as a married couple,
wasn't it? Except Martha was adamant that the hospital said it
was Clark who had told them that Lois was his wife. A chill went
through him as he realized that his son - his seemingly
indestructible son - was unable to make decisions for himself.
As if sensing his thoughts, Martha's head came to rest against
his shoulder. He knew she wasn't tired, only worried. He tipped
his head, letting his cheek rest against the crown of her head.

Jonathan closed his eyes, wishing with all his heart that this
was nothing more than a very bad dream.

<><><>
Early the previous Tuesday
<><><>

Lois woke up in the bathtub. Her head was resting on a rolled-up
towel and she was cocooned in more towels and the complimentary
robe that had been hanging on the back of the door. She blinked
and sat up, wincing at the pain in her back. Had a door just
slammed shut? Where was she?

And then it all came back to her. She was married to Clark. They
were in a room that Mickey Raddatz had paid for, waiting for the
next morning so they could follow Mickey to Hoover Dam.

Her mind returned to the most astonishing of those facts. She
was married to Clark. For real. Well, sort of for real. For real
in the sense that they had applied for the wedding license in
their own names. But what else could they have done when Mickey
and his four well-armed goons were watching?

That, she reminded herself, wasn't even the worst part. No, the
truly horrifying part of all of this was the way she had thrown
herself at Clark. She had practically attacked him on the bed
and then she had fled for the safety of the bathroom.

Suck it up, she told herself. Go out there and demand your half
of the bed. She threw the door open and marched out, full of
righteous indignation that was fueled more by her backache than
any real conviction.

Only Clark wasn't there. The bed was empty, the covers tossed
aside. The television was on. Was Clark the one who had slammed
the door? The clock on the bedside table read 2:49. Where would
he have gone this early in the morning? Had he decided to
gamble? Go for a walk? Had he received a tip that Mickey was on
the move?

She went to the window to see if Clark was going to emerge from
the hotel. Her eye was caught by the flashing lights of
emergency vehicles arriving on the other side of the street.
Lois leaned closer, squinting to try and make out what was
happening. A bus had tipped over on its side, but none of the
arriving emergency personnel looked like they were rushing to
help. They were gesturing for the people standing around to move
back. Her forehead furrowed and she watched in amazement as the
bus appeared to slowly right itself unaided. Then someone
stepped around the front of the bus and, even at this distance,
the red cape was easy to spot. Superman was there - in Las
Vegas.

"Clark," she muttered to herself in disgust. It was now obvious
where he had gone in such a hurry. Well, this was one Superman
exclusive he was going to have to share with her. She grabbed
her new pair of sneakers, not bothering to change out of her
pajamas, and ran barefoot down the hallway to the elevator. She
got both shoes on while she waited for the elevator to arrive,
then tied them as she rode down to the ground floor.

Despite the early hour, hoards of people were standing around,
and Lois had to push through them to get close. She ducked under
the police tape and was immediately yelled at for her trouble.

"I'm with the press," she told the officer now blocking her
way.

"Let's see your credentials."

Lois patted her hips and let out a frustrated growl. "I left my
ID in the hotel room."

The officer took hold of her elbow. "Come on, girlie. Back
behind the line."

"But I know him!" She frantically pointed at Superman. "He'll
vouch for me."

Superman's head turned and their eyes met. He looked as
astonished to see her as she had been to see him. No, her mind
whispered, he looked worried. She shook off that thought. It
made more sense that Superman was simply surprised that she was
in Las Vegas and not Metropolis.

"Tell him I'm with the press." Lois tilted her head to indicate
the pushy officer. "Tell him that you know me."

"I know her. She's with the press," Clark affirmed. Inside he
was panicking. How in the heck was he ever going to explain this
one?

The officer still looked a little dubious but let her go. Lois
walked over to Superman and looked up with a grateful smile.
"Thanks."

"I didn't expect to see you out here," Clark told her. That, he
consoled himself, was the absolute truth. She had been asleep in
the bathtub when he left their room.

"It's a long story," she said. "Actually, I'm looking for Clark.
Have you seen him?"

"Um," Clark looked over at the crowd that Lois had just come
from while he tried to buy himself time to think. "Clark?"

"I know. You're wondering what we're doing in Vegas." Lois
appeared not to notice his discomfort. "We're following a
gangster, Mickey Raddatz - do you remember him? Well, that's why
we're here. Not that we could tell him that earlier today when
he saw us. We actually told him we were eloping." She rolled her
eyes and told herself to just shut up now. "Only we sort of
ended up, well, you can ask Clark about it the next time you see
him. Do you think you'll still be in the neighborhood around
nine this morning?"

"I, uh..." Clark glanced down, amused and distracted when he
realized that she was still wearing her pajamas.

Lois self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest. "I know.
I'm in my pajamas. I kind of left the room in a hurry."

"Oh." Clark looked at the crowd behind her. There wasn't much
more he could do to help and he was itching to get away before
she thought too much about what an amazing coincidence this was.
"I, uh, I really need to go now. Excuse me."

He flew away, landing in the darkened parking garage behind the
Palace where he hurriedly changed. Keeping to the shadows, he
zipped around the side of the hotel and then began to stroll
towards the accident site. He was almost to the street when he
heard his name being shouted.

"Clark!" He looked to his left to see Lois bearing down on him.
"What are you doing out here?" she demanded.

"I, uh, I heard something," he stammered without thinking.

"Heard something? From twelve stories up you heard that crash?"

His gaze skittered away from hers and he shrugged. Lois narrowed
her eyes at him as she took in his appearance. "And so you got
dressed - including your tie - you were in such a hurry, and you
rushed down here?"

Clark winced but doggedly stuck to his story. "Yeah."

He was lying. Lois knew he was lying. He wouldn't look her in
the eye - that couldn't be a good sign.

"Nice, Clark. It's our honeymoon and you're already cheating on
me."

"Cheating on you?" he repeated in disbelief.

"Absolutely! What were you really doing down here? Were you
following Mickey? What happened to partners? What happened to
sharing the story?"

"Mickey?" His eyebrows drew together in bafflement.

He looked utterly confused and Lois wondered if maybe she was
wrong. He wasn't following Mickey. So what was he doing out
here?

"You weren't following Mickey?"

"No." Clark gestured at the bus accident. "I was feeling
restless and I looked out the window and I saw the accident."

"You said you heard it." She gave him a smirk, confident that
she had caught him in a lie.

"I did. I heard it and I saw it." It was the truth, and he was
suddenly weary of all the lies. He should tell her; it would
almost be worth it to see her speechless and surprised.

She arched one eyebrow in annoyance. "And you didn't think you
should wake me up to come with you? Was that because you know
how boring I think breaking news is? Especially if it has
anything to do with Superman?"

"Lois, you had been locked in the bathroom for hours. I didn't
think you were talking to me."

She crossed her arms, watching the fountains dance behind him as
she considered her options. "I'm not," she finally said. "I'm
not talking to you."

She went around him and marched back into the hotel with as much
dignity as a woman in her pajamas could muster.

<><><>

Lois rested her forehead against the door and swore softly. She
had forgotten her key card. She beat the heel of her hand on the
door in frustration. Where was Clark? Had he decided not to come
back to the room? What if he had forgotten his key card too?

"Did he throw you out, sweetheart?"

Startled, Lois whirled around to find Mickey's flat-nosed friend
standing behind her. "No, Clark went down to the casino and I
was going to get some ice."

"I don't see no ice bucket," the man said.

"I was just coming back for it," she lied smoothly.

"Maybe I can help you," the man said and took a step closer to
her.

Her skin prickled with fear as her instincts screamed that she
was in trouble. "No, that's okay. I think I'll go join Clark
now. Thanks anyway."

"Tony." The man stepped sideways to block her way to the
elevators. "Call me Tony."

"Thanks anyway, Tony."

"Don't be so quick to get rid of me. It happens I have a key to
your room." He produced a card from his pocket. "Now whaddaya
think of that?"

Lois was thinking she never should have admitted that Clark
wasn't inside the room. Her panicked mind also wanted to know
what Tony was doing in the hallway in the middle of the night
with a key to their door.

Tony took her silence for acquiescence and moved closer. Lois
tensed, unsure whether fight or flight was her best option. At
the end of the hallway the elevator made a soft 'bing' and Clark
stepped out.

"Clark," she breathed, grateful to see him.

Clark took in the tableau at the end of the hallway. The look of
relief on Lois' face was obvious, as was the annoyance of the
man who was standing much too close to her. When Clark realized
the man was one of Mickey's lackeys, he quickened his pace.

"What's going on?' Clark asked as he approached them.

"You tell me," the man said. "If this were my honeymoon, I
wouldn't be in the casino. And my bride would be wearing nothin'
but a smile." He took the sleeve of Lois' pajama top between his
fingers. Lois jerked away from his grasp.

"Don't touch her," Clark warned.

"Hey, I was just helping her get back inside," Tony said
smoothly.

"He has a key to our room," Lois said tersely.

Clark held his hand out. "Give me the key."

"It's not my key to give out, pal. This one belongs to Mickey."

"Why does Mickey have a key to our room?" Lois shot back

Tony backed up, putting the key card back in his jacket. "The
way I see it, if a man pays for a room, he's entitled to have a
key to it." Tony made a little skipping turn and headed for the
elevator.

"Please," Lois whispered, "tell me you have your key."

Clark pulled his key card from his pocket and held it out to her
as he watched the gangster retreat. She took it from him and
opened the door, stepping inside the room and then holding the
door open for him to join her. Clark lingered in the hallway,
watching as the man entered the elevator. He gave Clark a
mocking half-salute before the doors closed.

"Are you all right?" Clark asked as he came inside.

"Fine." Lois locked the door and put the security latch across
the door. Her hands were shaking and her knees felt rubbery.

Clark gently took hold of her shoulders when he realized she was
starting to tremble. "What did he say to you? Did he threaten
you?"

"No, he didn't threaten me. It was just creepy," she answered,
hating that her teeth had begun to chatter. "What if he had come
in here while we were asleep? What in the heck was he doing in
the hall outside our room in the middle of the night?"

"He wouldn't have been able to get in, even with a key. You had
the dead bolt and the security latch engaged." Clark tried to
sound reassuring but there was something so wrong about the
whole situation, and he couldn't shake his uneasiness. The
realization struck both of them at the same time and their eyes
met and widened.

Lois went on tiptoe and he leaned down as she urgently
whispered, "He knew we weren't in here. The room has been
bugged."

"Then Mickey knows that we're on to him," he whispered back.

"We have to leave."

Clark nodded his agreement. "Get dressed," he said quietly. "We
can't stay here."

<><><>

It wasn't until they were a few steps into the hall and the door
had shut behind them that they saw the two men lounging against
the wall near the elevator. Suddenly Mickey appeared from the
doorway alcove next to theirs. Tony was a few doors past the
fire exit and moving in their direction. The two men by the
elevator started towards them as well.

"This is the damndest honeymoon I've ever seen," Mickey said
with a sad shake of his head. "I'm startin' to think you two are
here to screw around with me and not each other."

"What's it to you?" Lois asked defiantly and tried to move away
from Mickey only to be stopped short when he grabbed her wrist
so tightly that she flinched. Fear made her suddenly lethargic
and she could scarcely move.

"Don't get cute with me," Mickey sneered at her. "Who even knows
you're here, kids? Besides that worthless editor of yours? Let
me tell you right now that he'll print whatever your publisher
tells him to print. And it ain't gonna be about me. You wanna
know what I'm doin' here? Let's go and I'll show you."

Clark reached out to pull Mickey's hand from Lois' wrist. "Take
your hands off her."

"Watch your mouth, Four-Eyes. I let your attitude slide earlier,
but I'm not feeling so generous anymore." Mickey pushed Lois
into Tony, who quickly gripped her arm with one hand while
producing a gun from beneath his jacket with the other hand. "I
don't wanna make a mess in the hotel," Mickey continued
smoothly. "So we're all gonna take a walk now."

"And if we refuse?" Clark asked, seething at the obviously
painful way that Tony was holding Lois' arm and his own
impotence to do anything about it.

"Then Tony is going to take your pretty little wife back in the
room and violate her in ways that you don't really want to think
about."

Tony's lips twitched in a smile and he winked at Lois.

Lois jerked her arm free of Tony's grasp. "That's nothing
compared to what I'm going to do to Tony."

"Fiesty," Tony said with a laugh. "I never liked that in a
woman."

"I've never been all that infatuated with thick-necked idiots,
so I guess we're even," Lois shot back.

"Enough," Mickey growled. "Let's go."

They walked to the stairs, going down the echoing stairwell to
the basement where one of the goons used a key card to let them
into a long half-lit hallway. At the end of the hallway they
exited into an underground garage. One of Mickey's men opened
the back of a refrigeration truck and gestured for Clark and
Lois to enter it.

Lois wrinkled her nose as she climbed up the tailgate. She was
grateful to be out of Tony's clutches but the storage area of
the truck smelled faintly like sour milk. There were stacks of
boxes labeled 'perishable' at the back of the space. The air was
cold and humid. The truck dipped as Clark climbed inside and
then the doors were slammed shut, leaving them in darkness. Lois
swayed, feeling dizzy in the blackness as she heard the bolt
thrown to lock the doors.

The truck rocked again and she heard the muffled slam of a door
before their prison reverberated as the engine started up. The
truck lurched and she stumbled in the darkness, taking three
staggering steps before she fell against something solid.
Clark's hands settled on her waist to steady her. She grabbed
his arm to balance herself.

"Maybe we should sit down?" he suggested.

Lois felt almost drunk in the wheeling darkness as the truck
seemed to be pivoting. It was climbing out of the underground
garage, she realized. Where were they being taken? Dizzy and
numb with fear, she let go of Clark's arm and half-turned to
feel for the boxes at the end of the truck. Clark's hands moved
away from her and she shuffled forward a few steps before her
knee smacked painfully against a wooden crate.

"You okay?" Clark asked when she swore.

"Yes," she bit out. "Never better." She sat down tentatively,
then leaned back, uneasily resting against the crate behind her.
She was grateful when she felt Clark's warmth settle next to
her, making the darkness seem just a little less frightening.
She reached over and found his knee. His hand came to rest on
hers and she quickly laced her fingers with his.

"Where do you think they're taking us?" she asked.

"I don't know." Clark could hear the conversation in the cab of
the truck, but Tony and the goon with him were more interested
in cataloging Lois' charms and what they intended to do to her
later than in saying where they were headed.

Lois shivered next to him and Clark let go of her hand to take
his jacket off and clumsily drape it over her shoulders.

"Thanks." Her hand found his again.

The truck made a sharp, long turn, sending Lois sliding against
him. Her hand clutched at his arm and he could hear the rapid,
frightened beat of her heart. He was deeply grateful that she
couldn't hear Tony's boasts.

"Maybe I could get us out of here," he suggested.

"Really? How? Are you going to kick the doors open?" She didn't
sound at all reassured and he realized that it would be
extremely difficult to explain to anyone how he managed to kick
a bolted door open. Besides, there was an SUV behind them with
Mickey and one of the other men. That left the fourth man
unaccounted for and Clark frowned as he realized he had no idea
where the man had gone.

"It might be worth a shot," he muttered. What if he went really
fast? Would Mickey and the other man see? It would be difficult
to explain to Lois, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about
what she would do with his secret afterwards. Did he? She might
not expose him, but she would almost certainly loathe him.

"And then what? We're picking up speed now, Clark. We're on a
highway, not in town. We'll end up killing ourselves when we
jump out."

"We could wave for help."

Lois let out an exasperated sigh. "It's the middle of the night.
How many people are on the road in the middle of the night? We
should try not to upset them. If they wanted us dead, they would
have killed us already."

Lois was wrong. He had overheard enough to know that Mickey
simply didn't want to leave any trace of their deaths where
someone could link it back to him. Clark wasn't about to tell
Lois that. Certainly not when she hadn't stopped shivering, even
with his jacket on. He put his arm around her, rubbing his hand
along her arm to warm her.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked, her words choppy.

"I'm okay."

She shivered closer to him and her next words were muffled as
she spoke into his shoulder. "It's ironic, isn't it? We're going
to freeze to death in the desert."

"We're in a truck, not the desert."

"Don't ruin it with details, Clark." Her arms slipped around his
waist and she laid her cheek against his chest. "Just keep me
warm."

Clark put his arms around her. There was no good way to get them
out of this; not right now, anyway. It was frustrating, but he
was going to have to wait to do anything. Several long minutes
ticked by. Lois' shivering lessened and he was grateful that she
was warming up. With each glance outside the truck, he could see
nothing but empty desert.

"So." Lois cleared her throat, feeling almost desperate to break
the monotony. "You never did say how you pictured your
honeymoon."

Clark wished she'd go back to talking about freezing to death
instead. He let out a laugh that sounded forced to his ears.
"This isn't how I pictured my honeymoon. I was thinking
something more along the lines of warm sand and clear blue
water."

"Mmm," she said dreamily. "That sounds nice. Hawaii? Or the
Caribbean?"

"Does it matter?"

She giggled against his chest and the vibrations of her laughter
reverberated through his entire body as if he were a tuning fork
that had just found its perfect pitch. "I guess it doesn't," she
whispered. "Like Mickey said, maybe all you really need is a bed
and a door that locks."

Clark swallowed hard at the memory of their kiss earlier that
night on the bed. He'd forego a bed, warm sand, or any creature
comfort imaginable to kiss her like that again.

Lois rolled her eyes, grateful that it was pitch black inside
the truck. Of all the things to say to him, she had to pick
*that*. It was time to change the subject.

"Didn't Big Joe go into the restaurant business out here?" she
asked.

"I don't know," Clark admitted.

"It seems like he did. What if this is one of his trucks? What
if Tony and the others actually work for him and that's why
Mickey is hanging out with them?"

"I guess it's possible."

They lapsed back into silence, each of them caught up in their
own thoughts. Clark weighed the merits of escaping from the
truck against waiting to see where they were going.

Lois, fatigued from her catnap in the tub, was soothed by the
warmth and solid presence of Clark beside her. The initial
adrenaline rush of being kidnapped had dissipated, leaving her
worn out and exhausted. Her eyelids grew heavy. Each time she
snapped back to awareness she would find that nothing had
changed. They were still trapped in cold darkness.

The truck slowed down, stopped briefly, then made a right turn
and slowly built up speed again. The road beneath them was
rougher now and they were jostled in the darkness. Lois clung to
Clark, the only constant left in her world, and wondered what
was going to happen when they got wherever they were going.
Tony's leer flitted through her mind and she shivered. Stay with
me, she thought. Please, Clark, don't let them separate us.
Clark's hand stroked over her arm and she inched closer against
him.

"Are you scared?" she asked quietly.

"No." His hand squeezed her elbow gently. "I have you to protect
me; why would I be scared?"

Lois smiled and let out a soft sigh that was almost a laugh.
"Thanks, Clark."

The truck slowed almost to a stop, then made a turn that sent
them sliding a few inches. When it started lumbering forward
again, their speed was slower and the road was much rougher. It
seemed that only a few seconds would pass before they were
bounced again. Time seemed to stretch out until neither one of
them were quite sure anymore how long they had been traveling.
Clark could see the horizon outside was growing lighter - it was
going to be day soon.

The truck's speed seemed to vary between slow and really slow.
Each bounce made the crates they were sitting on shift and
creak. Lois felt like every joint in her body was being
incrementally teased apart as the truck rattled and vibrated
along an obviously rough road. They weren't in the city - they
probably weren't anywhere near anything - and it was beginning
to frighten her. Mickey had said he didn't want a mess at the
hotel - what was to stop him from making a mess of them
somewhere in the desert?

The brakes gave a high-pitched whine and the world stopped
bouncing. A few seconds later the engine turned off. Lois
tensed, suddenly alert and deeply frightened. She would rather
freeze to death slowly than have to face Tony again. Were they
parked on an incline or did everything just feel off-kilter
because it was so dark? There was the muted sound of doors
slamming. Then the lock on the door rattled, but the doors
didn't open.

The silence stretched on and on. Clark's breathing was quiet and
she realized he was probably trying as desperately as she was to
hear what was going on outside.

"Can you hear anything?" she whispered.

"No," Clark lied. The truth was that they were all arguing over
whether they were far enough into the desert now and the
likelihood of someone finding their bodies later. The man riding
up front with Tony, whose name was apparently Randy, was adamant
that throwing their bodies in a mine shaft was more than
adequate.

They had stopped near a dilapidated wooden building. The roof
was still intact, but it looked like the ancient shingles had
melted under decades of desert heat. The door and window frames
were empty. Behind the small structure rose a large hill dotted
with juniper and sage and a few rock houses without their roofs.
There was a yawning hole halfway up the rise of the hill. Clark
zoomed in on the opening and realized it was an abandoned mine.
They were in a ghost town.

Lois swayed to her feet, feeling too restless to just sit there
and wait to die. The truck was definitely slanted and it was an
uphill shuffle to get to the doors. She couldn't feel a latch
and no matter how much weight or pressure she exerted, the doors
didn't budge. She put her arms into Clark's jacket, pulling it
on properly to try and stay warm.

The silence was ominous. Their dark prison seemed even more
oppressive now that they weren't moving. Where were they? What
was going to happen when the doors opened? The blackness
reverberated around her, chill and cloying.

"What do you think?" she asked Clark. "Have they left us here?"

"No," Clark said softly. "I think they're still out there."

They were - he could see them clearly through the side of the
truck. He slid his glasses back up his nose and tried to adjust
to the dark again. He suddenly felt ashamed of himself. He
should tell Lois the truth. Just tell her, right now, that he
could get them out of this. That there was nothing to worry
about and she was fine. That he would never let anyone hurt her.
That he had meant every word of their wedding vows, and he
wanted nothing more than to love her, hold her, and cherish her
for the rest of her life. But what if the truck was bugged? What
if someone overheard? If so, he couldn't tell her about
Superman. But he could tell her about his feelings. If she felt
the same way - and the way she had kissed him back in the room
said she might - then he could work up to the whole truth.

"Lois," he finally said softly, "I lied to you earlier."

"Really? About what?" Lois leaned one shoulder against the side
of the truck. She wanted to be close enough to the door to jump
out when they opened. Clark's voice sounded strained and she
wondered what compulsion had made him pick now for a deathbed
confession.

"I implied that you weren't attractive in those pajamas."

Lois fell silent. This wasn't the confession she was expecting.
She thought he was going to tell her the truth about why he had
left the hotel in the middle of the night. "You didn't say I was
unattractive. You just said you didn't want to ravish me in
those pajamas."

"That was a lie," he whispered.

"Oh." It was all she could say. As confessions went, that wasn't
too bad. She allowed herself a small, pleased grin. "So what
else have you lied about, Clark?"

She couldn't possibly know the truth. She had to be guessing.
Even so, Clark barely managed to choke out, "What makes you
think that I'm lying about something else?"

Lois sent a wry smile in the direction of his voice. She didn't
have to see him to know he looked guilt-ridden right now. His
voice was beyond contrite. "You sound guilty."

"I sound guilty?"

She gave a small laugh. "Clark, you almost always look guilty
about something. I think you lie to me on a daily basis."

Even though it was dark, Clark closed his eyes. He was unsure
what to say next.

After several seconds of silence she asked, "What? You're not
going to deny it?"

What were the odds that they had bugged the back of the truck?
If he had to guess, that was why only Mickey had come to dinner
with them. The others had been in their room planting bugs. "No
more lies," he told her. "Ask me anything."

Something in his tone sent a shiver unrelated to the cold
through her. Lois suddenly felt like she was standing on the
edge of a giant abyss. There were a lot of questions she could
ask him. Why did he run off all the time? Did he really like
being married to her or had he just said that to tease her? Why
had he agreed to go away for the weekend with Mayson? Had he
kissed Mayson like he had kissed her last night? Was he ever
going to eat that candy bar that had been sitting on his desk
for at least the last three weeks?

She decided to lob him an easy one first. "Okay, why did you
leave the room this morning?"

Clark sighed. "Believe it or not, I told you the truth about
that. I heard the accident." Go on, he chided himself. Tell her
*why* you heard that accident. He shook his head at his own
cowardice. Why couldn't he just tell her straight out? If she
hated him for it, it was nothing less than he deserved.

Lois furrowed her forehead as she thought. It wasn't entirely
out of the realm of possibility that he might have heard the
accident. "What about last Friday when you ducked out of the
staff meeting? Where did you go?"

He cleared his throat softly. "There had been an accident down
the street."

Lois pressed her lips together, remembering that he had
submitted a short article about an out-of-control street
sweeper. She was about to sarcastically ask him if he had heard
that one too when the back door of the truck opened. They each
raised an arm and blinked against the sudden brightness.

"Come on out, kids," Tony instructed, waving his gun to motion
them forward.

Lois froze. All thoughts of fleeing were gone and she wished
there was a way to slam the door shut and barricade themselves
inside the truck. Clark moved next to her, and then his fingers
touched hers. She slipped her hand into his and thought about
how strange it was that death was going to part them before an
annulment could. They jumped together from the back of the truck
to the ground. A small cloud of dust went up and Clark sneezed.

Mickey approached them, his florid features twisted in a scowl.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble you two are causing me?"

"So I guess we're off your list for a holiday card this year?"
Lois retorted.

Clark froze, his mind racing. Every instinct in him was
screaming to pick up Lois and fly away and to hell with the
consequences. No secret of his was worth the risk that she might
get hurt.

"Let's go, buddy boy." Tony pushed Clark's shoulder, causing him
to stumble forward. There was a sharp kick to the back of his
knees and Clark went down hard, reeling more from the shock that
it actually hurt than from the pain itself. Then Tony landed a
kick to his ribs and Clark choked on the dusty air and the pain
that was radiating through him.

Bewildered, Clark tried to stand up only to be kicked again
under his chin. There was a salty, metallic taste in his mouth.
Blood. It was his own blood. His ears were ringing but he could
still hear Lois shrieking, "Stop!"

Lois went to push Tony, to try and help Clark but her arms were
pinned from behind. She kicked back, catching the man in his
shin. He swore and shoved her in Tony's direction. Tony caught
her, his piggy eyes crinkled in amusement. "Why don't you leave
the blushing bride with me? I'll take good care of her."

"Well now, Tony, I think you'd have to ask her husband," Mickey
said. "No, wait, that's right. He ain't really her husband, is
he?"

Clark staggered to his feet, leaning back against the tailgate
of the truck as he tried to catch his breath. "You'll touch her
over my dead body," he managed to wheeze.

"That can be arranged." Tony stepped forward menacingly only to
be stopped by Mickey's hand on his arm.

"Wait," Mickey said. "Let's find out what they know first. Then
you can show Lois how a funeral is cheaper than a divorce."

<><><>
Late Friday night
<><><>

"Excuse me, can you help us?" a female voice asked. The clerk
glanced up to see an anxious-looking middle-aged couple.

"We're looking for our son, Clark Kent, and his, uh, his wife,
Lois Lane. We were told that they were patients in this
hospital."

The clerk tapped on the keyboard in front of her. "Your
daughter-in-law is in room 314 and your son is currently in
surgery."

"Surgery," Martha repeated in disbelief. "Our boy is in surgery,
Jonathan."

Jonathan's hand touched her elbow supportively. "What about
Lois? Can we see her?" he asked.

"I'm sorry. Visiting hours ended at nine o'clock."

"Can you at least tell us what's happened to them?" Martha
asked.

The phone began to ring and the clerk spoke rapidly as she
reached to answer it. "I don't have that information. Let me get
this call, and then we'll see if we can have someone from the
ICU come talk to you."

<><><>
The previous Tuesday morning
<><><>

"I'm not a patient man," Mickey snarled. "And I got places I
need to be. So you're going to tell me what you two are doing
out here in Vegas, and don't you dare say it was to get
married."

"We just followed you to the airport," Lois told him as she
watched Clark shift his jaw experimentally. He looked dazed as
he repeatedly touched his lip where it was bleeding. Tony's
fingers were too tight on her arm and she wondered if he was
cutting off her circulation.

Clark was still reeling from the fact that he was hurt. He
couldn't understand what had happened. The taste of his own
blood was sickening, but there was no sign of the gut-churning,
muscle-spasm-inducing side effects he always experienced with
Kryptonite. Even worse was the realization that he had failed
Lois. They were going to hurt her and it was entirely his
fault.

"Let her go," Clark said. "Just give Lois the keys to the truck
and let her drive out of here and I'll tell you everything."

"You're in no position to be bargaining. How about you tell us
and I'll make it quick for her instead?" Tony countered, jamming
his gun into her ribs so hard that she flinched.

"We don't know anything," Lois said, her voice pitched high with
anxiety. "We just got a tip that you were involved in something
big."

Mickey laughed. "Who told you that?"

"An anonymous source," Lois replied.

"Anonymous, my ass. Tell me who said that." Mickey crossed his
arms, letting them rest on his ample belly.

"I don't remember," Lois answered.

"He thinks you do." Mickey pointed at Clark and addressed his
next comments to him. "You expect me to believe that you two
just followed me to the airport and flew out here on the chance
that I was going to be doing something big?" His arms came free
so that he could finger-quote the word 'big'.

"It's the truth," Clark said. He imagined grabbing Lois and
flying away, but it was only a tantalizing daydream. Not matter
how hard he concentrated his feet remained firmly on the ground.
What in the world had happened?

"You're going to kill us for nothing. We don't know anything."
Lois looked up at the clear blue sky above them. There was no
sign of him. It was foolish to think that somehow Superman would
have known they were in trouble and shown up.

Mickey shrugged. "Get rid of 'em."

Lois felt her stomach flip over in cold terror. This was it.
This was how it ended. On a perfectly beautiful, clear-skied
day, she was going to be worm food.

Tony kept his tight grip on her arm as he pushed her forward.
"Up there, let's go. You, too, lover boy." He motioned to Clark
with the gun before planting it squarely in her back. "Last
chance, honey. You make me happy and I'll let you live."

"I'd rather be dead," Lois answered and began climbing the hill.
Her legs felt heavy and completely independent of her control.

"What if I said I'd let him live?" Tony taunted.

Tears came to her eyes. She wasn't about to dignify that
question with an answer, but in her heart she knew that she
would have done anything to save both herself and Clark. Letting
Tony rape her wasn't the answer. He was going to kill them no
matter what. Their only hope lay in turning the tables on him.
Clark was ahead of her as they moved up the hill, although he
kept half-turning like he was checking on her. Who would Tony
shoot first? Her vision blurred as she realized it would
probably be Clark. There had to be a way to save him, to save
them both. Her mind raced as her feet slowly plodded closer to
their grave.

Clark had tried again and again to take flight but the ability
was gone. It was as if he had never flown at all. There was
nothing there. With each step he took, he weighed the odds. He
had to get between Tony and Lois. Mickey and one of the men were
leaving now, driving away in the SUV. That left only Tony and
Randy - and Randy was waiting down by the truck, smoking a
cigarette and apparently unconcerned that he was about to become
an accessory to murder.

His frantic mind looked for a way out. If he could get between
Lois and Tony, maybe he could overpower the man and take away
his gun. And then what? Randy also had a gun. It would end in a
shootout with them trapped in the mine. If that happened, Randy
would have the advantage over them.

They had reached the mouth of the mine. Lois took a deep breath
- it was now or never. One step inside. She had to do it. Two
steps. Do it now. Three steps. There wasn't any time left. It
had to be now.

She steeled herself to stop shaking and kicked at Clark,
catching him off-guard so that he sprawled forward. Tony had
been forced to stop short behind her and she drove her free
elbow back into his gut. He swore and hit her back. Stars
exploded in her vision as the gun slammed up against her
cheekbone. There was a roar near her right ear, and then
another, leaving her reeling and almost deaf in that ear.

She brought her elbow back again, this time jerking it upwards
to strike Tony beneath his chin. The world went off-kilter as
she was pushed sideways. First her hip, then her shoulder
slammed into solid rock. Before she could scramble away she was
kicked in the ribs. Lois fell to her knees and then onto her
stomach, gasping against the pain. Another kick and then
another, and she let out a choked cry as she realized that she
had completely misjudged Tony. For a few precious seconds she
wasn't sure she'd ever breathe again. Then she heard another
shot and something hot sliced through her left shoulder.

Clark had been surprised when Lois kicked him off his feet and
even more surprised when a bullet had gone through his thigh. It
burned and stung and it took him several seconds to be able to
stand up and throw himself in the direction of Tony. His heart
stopped at the single gunshot and the cry of pain from Lois. He
lunged towards Tony, tackling him down onto the dusty floor of
the mine. They rolled deeper into the mine, both of them
fighting for control of the gun. Tony was larger and had at
least fifty pounds on him, but Clark was driven by anger and
fear.

Lois pushed herself onto her elbows and coughed, tasting blood
in her mouth. Her shoulder ached and it hurt to breathe. She
could hear the grunts and scuffling of Clark and Tony deeper in
the mine, but she couldn't see either of them. The gun roared
again, the sound echoing in the narrow chamber.

"Clark," she whispered, terribly afraid that Tony had finished
him off. But the sounds of struggle continued until there was
another gunshot, then another in quick succession and Tony let
out a loud bellow that fell away with an echoing Doppler effect.
There was a sickening thud and the mine fell silent.

"Clark?" she said, deeply frightened that he wasn't going to
answer.

"Lois?" Clark could barely get her name out. He had been shot
again in the struggle and he could feel this bullet, hot and
deep to the bone at the bottom of his right rib cage. He rolled
once to get away from the edge of the shaft that Tony had fallen
into, groaning as his chest made contact with the hard ground.

There was a long blaring noise outside as the horn on the truck
honked.

"We have to do something," Lois said frantically. "He's going to
come up here and we're just sitting ducks."

"Gun," Clark rasped out. "I have the gun, but I can't... Come
get it. Be careful. There's a drop."

She crawled in the direction of his voice, her knee catching on
the bottom of Clark's jacket that she was still wearing. Her
hand bumped into leg and she felt him wince as he let out a moan
of pain. His hand found her arm and then he pressed the gun into
her shaky hands. Outside she could hear grunting and swearing as
the other man made his way up the hill.

"Tony?" the man called out.

Lois said a silent prayer that he would just turn around. Don't
check. Just go. The entire left side of her body felt like it
was on fire and she was sure the man would hear her breathing
long before he got there. She knew he would kill them, but she
still wasn't sure she could shoot him. Just go away, her mind
chanted. Just go away.

A dark silhouette appeared at the mine's entrance. "Tony?"

Lois swallowed, her finger trembling on the trigger. Go away.
Just go away. Beside her Clark became absolutely silent and
still.

The man took a step inside. "Tony? This ain't funny." He reached
into his jacket and pulled his gun out. Lois shot in his
direction and he swore and raised the gun. She squeezed off
another round, wondering just how many were left in the gun. The
man quickly turned and disappeared. Several seconds later the
truck roared away.

"Clark?" Lois touched his face, unable to make out his features
in the dim light of the mine. His glasses were missing and she
wondered just how blind he was without them.

"He's going to... bring back... the others. You... have to...
get away from here," he wheezed. "Just go."

"Can you stand up?" Her hands moved to his shoulders and for a
moment she remembered kissing him last night, how thrilled she
had been by those shoulders. What if she never got to kiss him
again?

"Lois, please..." She had to get out of here; it wouldn't take
too much time for Randy to catch up to Mickey. They were going
to come back.

"Would you leave me?" Lois was horrified that he would even
suggest she abandon him.

He tried to reason with her, panting against the pain. "Places
reversed... I could... carry you."

"Then I'll carry you." She tugged on his arm, forcing him to a
sitting position.

He groaned in agony. "Too heavy."

"I won't leave you. So quit arguing with me. If you want me out
of here, you're going to have to go with me."

Clark was sweating now and he gulped in air. "You're killing
me."

"I'm trying to save your life." She ducked and looped his arm
over her shoulders to help him stand. "Ah, oh god, ow," she
moaned as her entire body protested the effort it took to get
upright with Clark's weight pressing down on her.

Clark let out his own barely stifled moan. He leaned heavily
against her and Lois bit her lip to keep from crying out. She
took a couple of shallow breaths - it seemed impossible to take
a deep one anymore.

"Ready?" she asked, not entirely certain that she was ready to
move.

Clark grit out a soft, "Yeah," and they slowly shuffled forward
together. He leaned against her and she moved along the wall of
the mine for support. Lois had no clue what she was going to do
when they actually got out of the mine. She braced her knees,
keeping her arms clasped around him and almost laughed at the
thought that they were like carefully stacked cards - each of
them was holding the other up. They stopped at the mouth of the
mine, squinting against the dazzling brightness outside.

"Which way should we go?" she asked, sounding like just talking
was an effort for her as well.

"Back the way we came... Get lost in desert... Go in
direction... we know... we can find a town." He could barely get
the words out.

"What if they come back?"

"Dust... on the road... before... they get here. We can hide."
Clark wasn't really sure that they would be able to hide, but it
was the only shot they had.

Lois moved forward and he went along with her. Stark fear
stabbed through him when he realized that Lois was limping. He
had thought it was the mine wall causing her uneven gait but now
he could see that she was favoring her right leg. Her face was
covered in blood. Her lip had been split and her nose was still
bleeding. Guilt and grief washed through him. He should have
protected her. If only he could get her to leave him here. She
was going to waste valuable time lugging him along.

"You'll never... be able to..." he started but she cut him off.

"I'm not going to argue with you, Clark. Can you sit down? We
can scoot back down the hill on our butts."

He saw the wisdom in her suggestion. The incline was steep and,
in their condition, they were likely to trip and fall. He wasn't
sure he could hurt any more than he already did, but he wasn't
about to test that theory.

It seemed to take forever for them to work their way down the
hill. Clark was almost angry with her as he contemplated how to
get her to leave him there. She was in slightly better shape and
he knew that her efforts to help him were costing her dearly.
Each time he brought the subject up she dismissed it.

At the bottom of the hill, Lois took his jacket off and threw it
aside. For the first time Clark realized that she was hurt worse
than he'd thought. The sleeve and shoulder of her shirt were
soaked in blood. With dismay, he saw that his own shirt was just
as bloody. His suit pants were dark, hiding the blood. They were
both coated with dust. It clung to their clothes, adhered there
by their blood and sweat and their slow slide down the hill.

"Shot you..." he said weakly, pointing at her shoulder.

Lois looked at the crimson stain on his shirt. "He shot you,
too."

"Your face..."

"My face?" she shot back. "You should see your face before you
start making fun of me."

She reached out as if she meant to pull up the hem of his shirt
to check on his wound. Clark jerked away from her.

"Let's go..." He gave up talking and struggled to his knees,
then to his feet.

Lois stood up and put her arm around his waist. They took a few
unsteady steps together before they were able to work out a
system that put the least strain on both of them.

"Remember how you said I could ask you anything?" she asked.

"Yeah," he answered.

"That candy bar? On your desk? When we get home, can I have
it?"

<><><>

They had been trudging slowly along the road for almost an hour.
They would stop every twenty steps or so to catch their breath.
Clark was almost hopeful. It was easier to breathe now even
though he could still feel the bullet inside him and the dull
throb in his leg had not abated. The hot sunshine beating down
on them had him concerned. They were both sweating; they had
both lost blood. Lois' steps were becoming shorter and she was
leaning more heavily against him. It was just a matter of time
before they passed out or Mickey returned. As they passed over a
dry creek bed, Clark got an idea.

"Wait here," he told Lois, stepping away slowly so that he
didn't knock her off-balance. "I just want to check on
something." He half-slid, half-walked down the steep slope at
the side of the road and let out a sigh of relief when he saw
what he had been hoping for. The creek bed passed under the road
through a corrugated steel pipe culvert that was about four feet
in diameter.

"Lois," he called to her. "Lois, come down here. There's
shade."

"Shade?" Lois hobbled to the edge of the road and looked down at
Clark. It seemed like a very long way to go even though the
distance was only about seven feet. "Where?"

"Down here," he gestured in front of him. "Under the road. Here,
I'll help you." He held one hand out and she had to slide a
couple of feet down the slope to catch his hand. He steadied her
as she slid the rest of the way.

Inside the culvert it was much cooler. They both panted with
exhaustion and pain, grateful for the reprieve. Lois weakly
pushed aside the pebbles to clear herself a spot to sit. Beneath
them the dirt still held a tiny bit of moisture. It wasn't
enough to be mud, but it was enough to make her thirst seem even
worse.

"How bad are you hurt?" Clark asked, wincing as he settled
opposite her and tried to stretch out his legs.

Her eyes had begun to adjust to the shade and Lois looked at
him, horrified by just how beat up he looked. "You're worse off
than me. We'll check you first."

Clark shook his head. "Ladies first."

Lois lifted her left shoulder slightly, then cringed at the pain
that caused. "I think the bullet went straight through. It's not
bleeding anymore. At least, I don't think it is."

"Can you check and make sure?"

Lois struggled to pull the top of her shirt clear of her
shoulder and then realized it was impossible. To hell with it,
she thought. He was hardly going to be gawking at her now. She
yanked the hem of her shirt to her midriff and then almost cried
in frustration.

"Help," she panted.

Clark moved to kneel next to her, sucking in a breath at how
much that hurt to do. "Can you raise your arms?"

She was able to lift her right arm and he worked the shirt free
of her arm and head before sliding it carefully away from her
left arm. She was wearing a black bra but his eyes were drawn to
the bullet hole just below her left shoulder. He shifted
forward, bracing one hand against the pipe to look at her back
but he couldn't see an exit wound.

"It came out here," she said with a whimper as she raised her
arm slightly so the he could see where the bullet had left her
body.

She was right, it wasn't bleeding very much. That, at least, was
a good sign. Then Clark caught sight of the bruises and welts on
her ribs. "Oh, Lois," he breathed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Lois self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest as he
leaned closer to look. "I couldn't. You wouldn't have come with
me. I couldn't leave you."

She heard a gasp and saw with surprise that his eyes looked
glassy. "How bad is it?" he whispered.

Lois shook her head. "I don't..." It wasn't worth lying about.
It hurt like hell. "It hurts to breathe," she admitted. "It
hurts to walk. It hurts to do anything."

"Are your ribs broken?"

"I don't think so. I hope not." She didn't dare to tell him that
she couldn't take a full breath. There was nothing he could do
to help anyway.

Clark turned her shirt right side out and held it up for her.
She gingerly slid her arms in and he helped pull the shirt back
over her head and down her torso.

"Your turn," she told him.

"What?" His mind went blank as he realized what she was asking.

"Let me take a look at you."

"No," he rasped, backing away from her and hugging his arms
across his abdomen. "I'm okay."

"Clark, come on. It looks like you're still bleeding." Lois
gingerly worked herself onto her knees and tried to shuffle
closer to him.

"No," he said stubbornly.

Lois was surprised by his refusal. It had to be the heat and the
blood loss that were making him recalcitrant. She reached for
the hem of his shirt but he caught her fingers.

"I'm so sorry." He looked almost desperate as his voice dropped
to an urgent whisper. "Please, Lois, don't be angry."

"Angry?" she asked, thoroughly confused. She tugged her hand
free of his and pulled his shirt up.

Clark let out a groan and dropped his head back. It hit the side
of the culvert with a dull 'thunk'. "I'm sorry, Lois. I should
never have let this happen."

"This isn't your fault..." Lois paused, unable to process what
she was looking at. There was a bright blue fabric beneath his
shirt, and her mind seemed to stutter as she tried to make sense
of it. She blinked and wondered if the heat was making her
delusional. The material was ripped where a bullet had entered
and it was stiff and dark with blood. Even so, the Suit was
still recognizable.

"Please don't hate me," he said softly.

Her mind went into overdrive, remembering the intensity in his
voice and the tension - no, the *power*, in his posture when he
told Mickey to leave her alone last night. She recalled
Superman's expression at the accident scene. He hadn't been
surprised that she was in Vegas. Her first impression had been
right. It was worry - because she had seen him there. That it
was a staggering coincidence only occurred to her now.

Their eyes met and she knew. She knew it as surely as if he had
spoken the words.

Clark was Superman.

<><><>
Early Saturday morning
<><><>

There are few things in life as depressing as a cheap motel room
when you're too tired and worried to sleep. Martha looked around
the threadbare room in disdain and wished they had just stayed
in the hospital waiting room. This room, which was the best they
could do on short notice, was grimy and small and reeked of
decades of stale cigarette smoke.

A resident, Dr. Foran, had talked with them at the hospital. Dr.
Foran had been there when Clark and Lois were brought in. Both
of them had gunshot wounds and were also suffering from
dehydration and sunstroke. Lois had been unconscious and in
shock. Clark hadn't been much better off, he had been barely
conscious and had asked repeatedly about how his wife was doing.
Dr. Foran explained that Clark had been taken back to surgery
since the bullet that had struck him had splintered and it
appeared that not all of it had been retrieved in the first
operation.

Jonathan and Martha had waited at the hospital until Dr. Foran
reappeared to tell them that Clark had come out of surgery and
it was now simply a waiting game.

Martha lay down on the bed, her shoes still on, and closed her
eyes to wait.

<><><>
The previous Tuesday
<><><>

The silence stretched out between them as Lois struggled to
fully comprehend the implications of her discovery. It was
almost frightening how clear everything had just become. All
those things about Clark - and Superman - that had been so
maddeningly vague or mysterious were all perfectly
understandable now. The explanation was so simple - Clark was
Superman.

What wasn't clear was why he was actually hurt. What had
happened? Was it Kryptonite? She had known for several months
that Superman could be made vulnerable. Why was it so much worse
to know that it was Clark who was hurting? It was Clark watching
her with anxious eyes, his face pale and tense. Did he honestly
think that she would hate him?

How did she feel? It wasn't hate. It wasn't even anger. It was
disappointment. He was her friend and partner. He should have
told her. It hurt that he hadn't trusted her.

<"No more lies. Ask me anything.">

His earlier offer for full disclosure had made her so uneasy and
now she wondered about the true source of her apprehension. Was
it because, deep down, she was afraid of the truth? Had her
subconscious figured out his secret ages ago? There were so many
hints she had let slide. So many lame lies that she hadn't
questioned. Was it because it had been so much easier to love
the fantasy than to risk her heart on reality?

How ironic was it then that she had inadvertently married the
superhero she had been chasing for two years? Wasn't this just
her luck? She'd had the chance to sleep with him last night and
she had locked herself in the bathroom instead.

Her mind reeled, remembering every touch, every look, every
smile that Clark had ever given her. She had enjoyed them simply
because they came from Clark - it was odd to think that they
were from Superman. Actually, it was downright strange to
realize that it was Superman she stole fries from at lunch,
Superman's pens that she borrowed and never returned, Superman
whom she had goaded into spending fifteen hundred dollars to fly
to Las Vegas. It was Superman who was slowly bleeding to death
in front of her.

No - she gave herself a mental shake. It was Clark. It was Clark
she was going to lose if she didn't do something to help him. It
was Clark who had kissed her last night. It was Clark she hadn't
been able to leave behind in the mine.

"Say something," Clark pled anxiously. She had been staring at
him, her eyes darting between his face and the Suit, and the
pain of waiting was becoming equal to that of the bullet buried
inside him.

"How could this happen?" she finally asked, nervously pulling
her hand away from the hem of his shirt.

"I don't know. I don't think it was Kryptonite. That always
makes me sick. This was just..." He shrugged helplessly. "One
minute I was fine and the next I wasn't."

"Was it something in the truck?"

"No. I could see outside. I could hear them talking in the cab.
I had my powers until we got out of the truck. And then, all of
a sudden, I couldn't fly or do anything."

Anger flickered through her. She had thought he was just
*wishing* he could break down the door of the truck when he said
he could get them out of there. Now she realized he actually
could have done it. Why ask her? Why not just *do it*?

The expression on his face told her he was thinking the same
thing. Lois looked at the hem of his shirt and saw that it was
slowly turning red. "You're still bleeding." She gestured at his
ribs.

"So are you," he countered.

"Yours is a lot worse. Can you, uh, can you take the Suit off? I
can't really, um, see to help you with it on."

She wouldn't meet his eyes and he flushed, hating that she had
learned the truth this way. "Sure," he said softly and began to
pull his tie free of its knot.

Lois turned away from him, looking at the stark landscape
outside as she tried not to hear the soft grunts and groans that
he made as he struggled. Should she help him? No - what if he
wasn't wearing anything beneath the Suit? Her cheeks grew hotter
as she remembered the countless times she had daydreamed about
what was under the Suit. Last night the answer had been right
there beneath her questing hands.

"Okay," Clark panted, exhausted by the effort it had taken to
get the Suit off. He eased back gingerly against the cool metal
of the culvert, taking shallow breaths to try and lessen the
constant burn of the bullet.

Lois turned to see the Suit lying in a small heap next to him.
The outfit was much smaller than she thought. Then again, it was
skin-tight on him. Clark was shirtless now, his chest smeared
with blood and dirt. She scrubbed her palms furiously on the
knees of her jeans, hoping that she wasn't just making them
dirtier. Then she tentatively put her hand on his chest. He
winced and she pulled her hand away.

What should she do? Take the bullet out? And how was she
supposed to do that? What if it was slowing the flow? Direct
pressure - that was how you stopped bleeding. Lois grabbed his
shirt, folded it over a couple of times and placed it over the
wound. She pressed her hands, one of top of the other, against
his chest and he made a small moan.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"S'okay," he whispered back and closed his eyes against the
pain. His entire body ached. He could feel his pulse pounding
through his veins. He could almost hear it thumping in his ears.
Then he realized that it wasn't his heartbeat - the muted
rhythmic thud was coming closer and closer. He opened his eyes
as fear seemed to turn everything cold. "Helicopter."

Lois had recognized the sound only a second or two before Clark
spoke. "It's not a rescue, is it? They're the only ones who know
we're out here. Did we leave footprints?"

"I don't know."

They crawled deeper into the pipe until they were at its center.
It was cooler and darker there, rendering them both a little
blind temporarily. The noise of the helicopter was becoming
overwhelming. Dust swirled outside and Lois was relieved that
any footprints that might have been around were surely gone now.
Clark told himself that Mickey didn't know where they were. They
were simply flying low and slow along the road in the hopes of
spotting them. The helicopter moved on, in the direction of the
ghost town.

Once the sound of the helicopter had become faint again Lois
softly said, "We should just stay here until we're sure they're
gone."

"It's probably better to wait out the heat of the day in here
and travel at night," Clark added. He shifted uncomfortably, his
foot kicking at a small rock that rolled away and then made a
soft 'plop'. Clark sat up rapidly, hoping against hope that the
sound was what he thought it was. His fingers groped through the
darkness and then found a very small puddle.

"Lois," he whispered. "There's water in here."

Lois moved closer to him. "Where?"

They scooped it in their hands, licking the drops from their
fingers. The water tasted awful and left grit in their mouths.
There wasn't more than a couple of swallows for either of them
and it was almost worse to have been teased with a scant amount
of liquid than to have had none at all.

Over the long, hot day the helicopter passed over them several
more times. Even in the shade, the heat felt oppressive. Their
muscles began to cramp from the tension, the inactivity, and
their bodies need for water. The light outside grew fainter as
the silence around them turned ominous. Was the helicopter
coming back? Had they given up the search?

Lois was absolutely miserable. Her shoulder and ribs ached. She
refused to think about how it was harder to breathe now than it
had been this morning. Her thirst was terrible. She watched
Clark's shadowy figure apprehensively. Was he still bleeding?
How bad off was he? Did they dare to leave their hiding place?
Did she even dare to talk to him? What do you say to your best
friend when you find out their deepest, darkest secret?

Clark had tried for hours to do something super, but there was
nothing there. At this point he would gladly trade his powers
forever if he could have just had them back for another ten
minutes. His mind went over and over the chain of events and he
loathed himself for allowing Lois to get hurt. There were so
many things he could have, should have, would have done
differently. He could have freed them from the back of the
truck. Truthfully, if he had known that Mickey was out in the
hall, he would have just flown her out the window of the hotel
and dealt with the consequences later.

Anything would have been preferable to this, hiding in a culvert
beneath the road as he could almost hear the time they had left
ticking away.

"It's getting dark now," Lois ventured quietly. "What do you
want to do?"

Clark weighed their options. It was safe under the road, but it
wasn't getting them any closer to help. He shouldn't have spent
the day hiding in the shadows. The lack of sunlight had left him
feeling weaker and weaker as the day wore on. He knew that the
continued loss of sunlight might prove to be fatal for him. But
if he stayed in the sun, he could be spotted. And that would
mean endangering Lois. It had been a couple of hours since they
had last heard the helicopter - maybe Mickey was giving up the
search? At least for tonight?

"We should start walking," Clark answered softly. "We'll hike as
far as we can. Maybe we can find another culvert to hide in if
we don't reach a town before daylight."

<><><>
Tuesday night
<><><>

It was harder going than either of them had expected. Not only
were they both in pain and weak, but the night was dark and the
small crescent moon provided very little light. They shuffled
forward slowly, feeling their way carefully. The road turned
steeper, winding back and forth as it climbed a hill. The
incline was costing them both, and the effort to climb it seemed
excruciating. It wasn't until his toes slid forward and found
nothing that Clark realized there was a drop at the side of the
road. It was impossible to tell how far the drop was or how
sheer. Clark let out a frustrated sigh. They were going to do
Mickey a favor and kill themselves before morning ever reached
them.

He put his arm out to stop Lois. "Wait," he cautioned. "I think
there's an edge here. Let's walk on the other side of the
road."

Lois took a several steps to the side, her feet scraping along
the ground as she felt her way. "Now what?" she asked. She
wanted nothing more than to find someplace to sit down or, even
better, lie down. Even sleeping in the bathtub back at the
Palace would have been heaven right about now.

"I don't know," Clark answered. His injured leg was starting to
shake. It had been aching the entire time they were walking and
he wasn't sure how much longer he could stay on it. "What if we
wait out the rest of the night here and move on as soon as it
starts to get light?"

They both thought about the dangers if Mickey and his gang
decided to come back. Neither one of them wanted to speak those
thoughts aloud.

"Okay," Lois agreed and sat down against one of the large
boulders just off the side of the road.

Clark sat down a few feet away and they both shifted uneasily as
they tried to find a comfortable position to get some rest.

<><><>
Early Wednesday morning
<><><>

Sleep was impossible. The air, which had been so hot during the
day, was far too cool now that they weren't moving. The desert
wasn't quiet - the night was filled with insect noise and the
low, distant rumble of thunder. For a while Clark had hoped that
it was going to rain on them but the sound was moving in the
wrong direction. There was another sound, a soft rustle that was
almost like trees, but he then realized it was probably the
breeze through the Joshua trees and sage that were scattered
around them.

"I left your jacket at the mine," Lois said ruefully. It hurt
too much to try and hug herself for warmth and she was exhausted
from the pain.

"I'll just run back and get it for you," he answered.

She left out a soft snort. "Thanks. I'll wait here."

They listened to the breeze for a few minutes and then Lois
said, "Hey, Clark? Those big round cactuses?"

"Cacti," he muttered.

She rolled her eyes and kept talking. "Couldn't we break one
open with a rock and get water?"

"No." He shifted, stretching his injured leg out in front of him
carefully.

"No? Oh, come on. Why not?"

"Lois, those are barrel cactus. It's a myth that they're filled
with water. They actually contain an alkali slime that would
kill us faster. We'd get diarrhea, which would dehydrate us even
more. Plus it would drop our core temperature and then we'd get
hypothermia."

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Don't you ever get tired of
knowing everything?"

"I don't know everything," he said, unsure just how rude she had
meant that to sound. He supposed he should take comfort in the
fact that she was treating him like Clark and not Superman. It
didn't mean that he couldn't miss the hero worship just a
little, though. "I just read a lot and remember pretty much
everything I read."

Lois sighed again and shivered. "Well, at least I was right
about one thing. We're going to freeze to death in the desert."

Clark worked the cape free of his Suit and wished he had thought
of the idea sooner. He draped the cape over her knees. "Take
this."

"What about you?"

"I'm fine," he lied.

"I can hear your teeth chattering. We should share."

"All right." Clark had been hoping she would suggest it. She
might be upset with him, but shared body heat was one way to
ensure that she lived to make his life miserable later. He moved
closer to her and pulled a corner of the cape across his lap.

"This isn't going to work," Lois said in frustration as his
movements pulled the cape away from her. "Can we lie down? Or
would that hurt too much for you?"

"No, that's fine."

It took well over ten minutes, but eventually they were settled
on their backs with Lois on the left so that they didn't
accidentally bump each other's injuries. The ground was hard,
but they were so tired it hardly mattered anymore.

Lois stared at the vast blanket of stars above them and wondered
which was his. It was staggering to realize that Clark wasn't
from here. He had come from out there. Her partner was an alien.
She'd always thought of aliens as little green men. They weren't
supposed to have broad shoulders and a smile that could stop you
in your tracks. Aliens were supposed to have cold, dead eyes and
scaly skin. Clark was the absolute opposite of everything she
had considered "alien".

Then again, so was Superman. She thought back on all the
interviews she had done with Superman. He had told her about
Krypton, about its destruction and she had been sad for him. Sad
that he had been alone his whole life. Only he hadn't really
been alone, had he? He had been raised in Kansas, by two
wonderful people who had the childhood pictures of him to prove
it. So when had he come here?

"Can I ask you a question?" she ventured.

"Yes." Clark cringed and waited. Maybe she had decided to start
early with the accusations on the off-chance that he didn't
survive this?

"How old were you when you came here?"

He blinked in surprise. "About a year old."

"How did it happen? Did your parents on Krypton know who they
were sending you to? Had they worked something out?"

"No, not really. They knew I would land in Kansas, but they were
just relying on luck for the rest of it. My mom and dad, the
Kents, they found me. They couldn't have children of their
own."

"So was that your ship? That one we found in the Bureau 39
warehouse?"

"Yes."

She fell silent and they both contemplated the stars above them.
Then Lois said quietly, "You must hate me."

Clark was shocked at the thought and he turned his head, wishing
he could see her better. "What? Lois, why would I hate you?"

"I was such a brat. Worshipping Superman and snubbing you. Does
it help that I've been nicer lately? I mean, I wanted to date
you. And I've always respected you."

He let out a short laugh even though it hurt to do so. "Liar.
You hated me at first."

"I didn't hate you," she said defensively.

"You disliked me."

"You were so squeaky clean - it made me suspicious. And you were
irritating. You acted so naive and yet you stole my stories and
you were mean to me."

"Mean? I was never mean to you! And what stories did I steal?
You were the one who stole my stories."

"I might have stolen one little story from you. But you took
several of mine. The one about the theater. And the space
shuttle? The Toasters? And what about the time you..."

"Okay," he cut in. "But I was never mean to you."

"The sewage reclamation plant? How about telling the entire
newsroom that I was dancing in a chicken costume? Throwing in me
in that disgusting dumpster? And..."

"You win," he sighed. "I was terrible to you."

Lois was silent for several seconds and then she sighed. "We
both were. We were both awful to each other, just in different
ways."

"Will you forgive me?" he asked.

He sounded so sad. Lois wondered if he still thought she was
upset over finding out he was Superman. For a moment it was
tempting to tease him and tell him that he was going to owe her.
Only she owed him, didn't she? How many times had he saved her
life? Even now, he was being nice about the fact that she had
been so blind and stupid for far too long.

"I guess I'd better," she answered. "Don't they say that you
shouldn't go to bed angry at each other?"

Clark smiled. "Yes, they do."

A few minutes of silence passed as she watched the stars and
then she said, "I'm not angry, Clark. In fact, I kind of have to
admire you for being able to hide it for so long. Please tell me
it wasn't easy to do."

"It wasn't." He shifted uncomfortably, and the movement caused
her to suck in an unsteady breath when he jostled her. "Sorry,"
he whispered. "I never meant to hurt you, not now, and certainly
not when I started this charade. I wanted to help people, but I
wanted a normal life, too."

"Is it so bad, being adored by the whole world?"

"Not everyone adores me."

"I did."

He felt a pang at her use of the past tense. "I know you did."

She heard the longing in his voice and added, "I still do, you
know. Actually, it's somehow more heroic to know that Superman
is a regular guy than this flawless god who flies around in
tights."

"Flawless god?"

She rolled her eyes, hearing the smile in his tone. "Well, he
did have a few flaws, but those were mostly due to his inability
to commit to me."

His hand reached over and found hers. "He was committed to you,
Lois. He just didn't know how to tell you."

Her throat seemed to have suddenly closed off so she squeezed
his fingers as she croaked out, "Thanks."

He stroked his thumb over hers. "For what it's worth, I always
adored you right back."

She made a snuffling noise and moved her head so that it was
just barely touching his shoulder before she closed her eyes.
"G'night, Clark."

"Good night," he answered softly and gave her fingers another
squeeze.

<><><>
Wednesday morning
<><><>

Clark blinked, unable to make sense of the world. He was cold.
His entire body ached and it felt like his lungs were on fire.
He went to push himself up on one elbow but immediately changed
his mind. Just tensing to move hurt and he was afraid of how
actually moving might feel. For the briefest of moments he gave
in to despair - they were never going to make it out of here
alive. They had no water, no food, and they were both growing
weaker by the hour. His gaze searched the bleak landscape around
him and then caught on a patch of green about fifty yards away
on the other side of the road.

Trees? He squinted at the green and realized with a growing
sense of excitement that the green was a small group of about
five or six cottonwood trees. He sat up in a hurry, ignoring his
body's protests and shook Lois' good shoulder gently.

"Lois, wake up." Her eyes blinked open and stared at him in
confusion. He grinned at her and pointed across the road towards
the trees. "Those are cottonwood trees."

Lois pulled the cape tighter around her and closed her eyes
again. "Good idea," she mumbled. Her lips felt cracked and dry
and her voice was hoarse from lack of water. "We can use them
for shade when it gets hot later."

"City girl, you don't get it. Cottonwood trees grow along the
sides of rivers and streams."

"There's water nearby?" Lois tried to sit up, but had to settle
for propping herself on her good arm.

"Most likely. Why don't you stay here and I'll go check it
out?"

Clark rose painfully to his feet and limped across the road. The
edge that had seemed so unknown and terrifying to him last night
was nothing more than a gentle slope that gradually dropped
about four feet into a dry creek bed that ran into and then
parallel with the road. He worked his way along the creek to the
trees. The ground beneath them looked damp. Rocks and pebbles
were strewn about, defining where the water flowed - if there
had been any. His eyes followed the stream bed past the trees to
where it disappeared into a narrow slot canyon.

He glanced behind him and found Lois watching him anxiously. He
pointed towards the canyon and shouted, "I'm going to check in
there." She waved and he moved forward.

The canyon was about six feet wide, but loomed high above him.
At the very least, it would be a good place to wait out the heat
of the day, and it was possible that the eroded curve of the
canyon's walls might block them from view if the helicopter came
back. Clark walked further into the fissure, his footsteps
crunching with a loud echo on the gravel underneath.
Occasionally there was a tiny shimmer of water, but nothing that
was going to sustain them.

He had gone about fifty feet in when he found a seep on the
canyon wall. It was only a small trickle of water about one foot
above the ground. Delicate plants were growing in the crack
above where the water was dripping. A small pool had collected
beneath it. He dropped to his knees and put his lips to the
rock, gratefully taking in several swallows of water.

Then he rose to his feet and walked swiftly, ignoring the pain
in his leg and lungs as he hurried to get Lois.

<><><>

"Drink slow," he cautioned her. "If you drink fast it's going to
make you throw up and you'll be even worse off."

She shot him a look but followed his advice. They took turns
getting a drink until their thirst was slaked, and then they
both leaned against the canyon wall and let out sighs. Lois'
gaze fell on his injured leg.

"You should let me check that for you." She waved at his leg.
"We have water now. We should probably try to clean ourselves up
a little."

"Yeah," he said cautiously.

"You first this time."

Clark wavered for a moment, not entirely sure about why he felt
so shy. Then he slowly stood up and unbuttoned his shirt. Lois
glanced away, watching the reflection of the sky above them in
the tiny pool of water.

Clark stripped down to his boxers and then leaned against the
canyon wall opposite Lois. He flinched at how cold the stone
was. He felt drained from the effort that just getting
undressed. He wasn't getting any stronger - he would have to try
lying in the sun today.

"Clark," Lois said, her voice pitched higher in anxiety. "I had
no idea it was this bad!"

She picked up his shirt from where he had left it and dipped the
corner of it in the pool of water. Then she stood up and dabbed
at the angry-looking wound beneath his ribs. He let out a moan
and tipped his head back against the rock.

"Sorry," she whispered. "But we need to try and clean this. It
looks awful. I think it's getting infected."

He grit his teeth as she gently wiped away the layers of blood
and dirt. "No, don't apologize. It's fine. In fact, I've been
thinking about how this happened and I'm wondering if the dirt
is part of the problem."

"How's that?" She glanced up at his face, puzzled.

"I was fine." Clark was panting between words, his body in agony
as he tried to think and speak. "Inside the truck, I was fine.
It was when we jumped out, it was dusty, and it made me
sneeze."

"Okay," she said to humor him. "It was dusty."

"I rarely sneeze. But there must have been something in the
dust, something I breathed in because it was only a few seconds
later that they kicked me and I was without any powers at all."

"But it wasn't Kryptonite dust?"

"I don't think so. That's always so painful, this was just...
nothing. I sneezed and everything was gone."

"You're still bleeding," she said. "Maybe we should tie your
shirt around your ribs? Or your tie?"

"What could have been in the dust? We were at a mine, what kind
of mine was it?" he mused aloud.

"I don't know. You're the expert who remembers everything he
reads. Are you telling me that you've never studied the mines of
the Southwest?" She picked up his tie and looked at it with a
frown. That just wasn't going to work.

"Are you mocking me for knowing stuff? How are you going to
sleep with me tonight if you're picking fights with me now?"

Lois looked up at him, her mind still swimming with the words
'sleep with me tonight'. "I wasn't picking a fight with you. I
was just..." She shook her head. "Never mind."

"Your turn," he told her.

Lois swallowed in nervousness. She was going to have to take her
shirt off in front of him again. He wasn't going to ogle; she
knew that. Actually, maybe that was part of the problem. Why
couldn't he want to ogle her, just a little? She lifted the hem
of her shirt, letting out a hiss of pain as her left arm refused
to go any higher than a few inches. Lois pulled her right arm
out of the sleeve and then tried to pull it off sideways but it
was impossible to do with just one arm.

"Damn it," she swore softly and averted her eyes, embarrassed.
"Can you help me?"

"Okay." He gently helped her to free her shirt from her left
arm. "I promise I won't look anywhere I shouldn't."

She grimaced. Of course he wouldn't, the big boy scout. Then she
sucked in a breath as he carefully dabbed at her shoulder with
the wet hem of his shirt. His expression turned grim and it sent
a frisson of worry through her.

"How's it look?" she gasped. She looked down but couldn't really
tell what was so worrisome to him.

"It looks like it hurt." Actually it appeared swollen and
streaks of red were extending from the exit wound. Clark frowned
as he realized that meant an infection was setting in. At least
it had scabbed over and was no longer bleeding.

"It's not so bad. It just throbs more than anything," Lois said
anxiously.

"What about your ribs?" Clark quickly looked past her bra to
focus on the bruises that looked even more horrific to him than
they had before. They were a deep, ugly purple color now. He
hated to think about how hard Tony must have struck her. "Does
it still hurt to breathe?"

"Yeah," she admitted.

"Would it help if we put something cold on them? Or wrapped
them?"

"With what? We don't have a compress or a bandage."

"We could use the Suit."

Lois almost laughed. "You're suggesting I should wear the Suit?
Now there's something I hadn't thought of before."

"Not wear it, necessarily. Although I think you'd look amazing
in the cape."

"Just the cape?"

He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling and she knew
that she'd been had.

"Hmm, maybe," she said breezily. "Later on I'm going to wear
nothing but the cape and see if you're right."

Clark flushed and looked away and she fought a smile. Then he
turned and picked up the Suit, turning it over in his hands as
he appeared to look for something. She let out a gasp when he
grasped one of the legs and pulled, tearing it away with a loud
ripping sound.

He dropped the Suit and held the leg out in front of him and
nodded in apparent satisfaction. Then he turned and knelt next
to the small puddle of water, soaking the leg in it. He glanced
over his shoulder to see her watching him, her expression
bewildered. "It was already ruined," he said by way of
explanation and then stood up with the soaking wet leg. "Can you
raise your arms for me?"

Lois did so, wincing as she was barely able to lift her left
arm. Clark reached behind her and she jumped as the cold, wet
fabric touched her back. He pulled it forward, laying it
carefully over her ribs and then pulling it tight. He moved
behind her and tied the leg in place.

"Too tight?" he asked.

Lois shook her head. The firm support of the cloth actually was
better. The cold she could have done without, but she knew he
was trying to decrease the swelling. Deeply exhausted, she took
a step back to lean against the rock. Only Clark was still there
and it threw her off-balance when she bumped into him. She
staggered to the side but he caught her, pulling and turning her
at the same time until she was safe against him. Lois closed her
eyes and sagged gratefully against the warmth of him, forgetting
for a moment that he was shirtless and she was wearing nothing
on top but a lacy black bra and one of Superman's pant legs.

After a few seconds, it occurred to her that she was wearing
only those items and she pushed away from him to pick up her
shirt.

"Sorry," she told him. "I, uh, I guess I should get dressed
now."

Clark's cheeks grew heated. "I wasn't trying to..."

"I know," she cut in. "Neither was I."

Lois pulled her shirt on again, struggling as she tried to get
her left arm through the sleeve. She felt the tug as Clark
helped her and s