Wedding Rearrangement                                           
                 
By Nan Smith <hachiban@earthlink.net>
Rated: PG13
Submitted: July 2007


Disclaimer: The familiar characters and settings in this story
do not belong to me.  They are the property of DC Comics, Warner
Bros., December 3rd Productions and whoever else can legally
claim them, I have written this story solely for its
entertainment value and am making no profit from it whatsoever.
The story, however, is mine.



The sky outside his office window was darkening. William
Henderson glanced out at the rising moon, glowing mistily
through the light haze above the city. It had been nearly a
week, he thought, since his men had discovered the
Kryptonite-coated cage in the basement of Lex Tower. There had
still been no sign of Superman, in spite of the most intense
search. No one had found a body, but the last shreds of hope
were beginning to fade. It was entirely possible that Luthor, or
his minions, had somehow disposed of the body in such a way that
it was extremely unlikely that it would be found.

The thought that Superman might actually be dead produced an
emotion that he hated: real, genuine grief.

Normally, he was able to place the deaths of victims in
perspective. He and his men couldn't save everyone; all they
could do was to be as diligent as possible in bringing the
perpetrator to justice. They had limits, being only human, but
Superman had been able to do things that his people couldn't.
He'd been able to help many people in ways that were outside the
resources of the police. He had accomplished seeming miracles.
If Luthor had been able to destroy the man who had come to them
nearly a year before and given hope to the entire city, there
wasn't anything he and his men could do but damn the
billionaire's soul. He would have quenched that hope forever. He
would have destroyed Henderson's hope that things would be
better. He would have killed Henderson's friend.

The Inspector deliberately pushed the morbid thoughts away.
Nothing was certain yet. Superman might have some reason for
failing to contact anyone, to reassure the public that he was
still alive, but Henderson couldn't imagine what it might be.

The phone rang, jolting him out of his reflections. He snatched
up the receiver in some relief. "Henderson."

"Inspector? This is Superman." 

It might be a hoax, but somehow he knew it wasn't. There was
something very familiar about the soft voice with the Midwestern
accent. For an instant, he wasn't able to identify the emotion
that surged through him. It was sheer joy, followed an instant
later by anger at the unnecessary worry that he had been
enduring for over a week. "Where the devil have you been?"

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to contact you before," the
Kryptonian's voice said, sounding, he thought, genuinely
regretful. 

"What happened?" Henderson asked, more gently. "We found the
cage in the basement of Lex Tower."

"That's why I was calling," Superman's voice said. "I wanted to
ask you if you can dispose of it for me."

"I'll see what I can do," Henderson said. "But --"

"Luthor trapped me in that cage, Bill." Superman's voice was
soft. "He nearly killed me. Until a little while ago, I wasn't
sure I'd be able to come back at all." A hesitation. "I wasn't
able to get in touch with you until now, and I sincerely
apologize for making you think...what you did. If you could let
anyone who needs to know that I'm alive...and will probably be
able to come back in a week or two...I'd appreciate it."

"A week or two?" Henderson said, quickly rearranging his
thoughts. Apparently there had been some reason for him to worry
after all.

"Probably," Superman said. "I'm getting better. I hope in a
couple of weeks everything will be back to normal. Don't pass
that along to anyone, please. I'd rather it wasn't general
knowledge."

Henderson could understand that. "I don't see why anyone else
should be interested," he said, not exactly truthfully. "In any
case, it's nobody's business."

"Thank you," Superman said. "I appreciate it. I'll contact you
when I'm ready to make my reappearance. Goodbye, Bill -- and
thanks again."

"You're welcome," Henderson said.

Superman hung up, and the Inspector put down the phone, amazed
at the sudden lift to his mood. It wasn't surprising, though, he
rationalized. Superman was a great asset to the Metro PD. Ah
hell, why not admit the truth for once? Henderson didn't have
many real friends, and he counted Superman as one of them. He
was genuinely glad that his friend was still alive.

After a moment's thought, he picked up the phone and dialed the
number of the editor of the Daily Planet. If anyone deserved to
hear the news ahead of everyone else, it was Perry White, and he
doubted that Superman would mind. And, after that, he would
return to his task of following the trail of the persons who had
tapped Perry White's phone and arranged the accident that had
nearly killed Luthor's widow. Somebody wanted Lois Lane dead,
and Henderson had every intention of nailing "The Mrs." With a
moniker like that, one of the first places to look was in
Luthor's history. If the man had been married before, it might
shed a lot of light on the mystery.

At the other end of the line, someone picked up the receiver.
"Hello?" Perry White's voice said.

"Hello, Perry," Henderson said, "I have some news..."

**********

"That makes me feel better," Clark said. "After Perry told me
Henderson thought Superman was dead, I couldn't let that go on
any longer."

"Yeah," Lois said. "Henderson can be a pain sometimes, but he's
a good guy. Don't tell him I said that, though."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Clark said. "He was itching to arrest
Luthor, you know -- he just didn't have enough evidence until
Jimmy and Perry took the information we'd collected to him.
Apparently once it was in his hands, he pulled a judge off the
golf course to issue the warrant."

"Why couldn't he just get another judge?" Lois asked.

Clark lifted an eyebrow. "Why do you think? He wanted one he was
sure of -- not some guy who was in Luthor's back pocket."

"Oh," Lois said. "Yeah. It's still a little hard to realize how
far Lex's influence went. It shouldn't be a surprise. I guess a
lot of people are ducking for cover right now."

"Well, Perry told me there's at least three judges, a couple of
assistant DAs and a number of cops under investigation. Another
judge has disappeared. According to his spokesman he's gone on a
health retreat because of on-the-job stress."

"Should I wager anything on the odds that he'll ever come back?"
Lois asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine. The heads of several companies
that had dealings with LexCorp are under suspicion as well, and
--" He broke off with a shrug. "I doubt you want to know the
details. LexCorp is coming down like a house of cards."

"Yeah," she said. "I saw it starting before we left Metropolis.
I only wish I could help, rather than hide from the press this
way."

Clark nodded silently and put his arm around her.
"Unfortunately, if we were in Metropolis, instead of writing the
story, you'd *be* the story," he said. "Perry told me the Star
is already trying to turn you into a gold digger who only
married Luthor for his money. The Planet is defending you, and
once you finish the legal stuff and the Superman Foundation
takes control of the funds, it will make them look like fools."

"I can't say that makes me feel all that bad," Lois said, a
little maliciously.

Clark chuckled softly. "Perry said the same thing. In fact, he
sent Jack out to give them some choice quotes that they'll
probably use as 'an anonymous source', and end up making them
look worse than ever when the real story comes out. He said he
normally wouldn't do something like that, but they were being so
vicious that he decided to teach them a lesson. I guess they
can't conceive of you actually giving away the money, so they
think they can get away with it."

"Good for him," Lois said. "I'm going to enjoy watching them
flounder. Perry told me he'll get hold of the Superman
Foundation's legal representatives tomorrow and start getting
the documents drawn up. He thought it was a great idea. I did
tell him that I wanted everyone who lost his job because of
Lex's bomb to be compensated for lost wages and given a bonus
for all the emotional distress they went through. Maybe that
will help make up for some of what Lex did to them. Money may
not buy happiness, but it can make up for a lot of unhappiness
-- especially mine. I hope Lex is spinning in his grave."

"I think," Clark said, "that Superman will give a very public
speech thanking you for the money, which will be used to repair
the damage that Luthor has done, as much as possible, and thank
the Daily Planet for not jumping to conclusions, unlike 'certain
other publications'. What do you think?"

Lois giggled. "I like it. Just don't lay it on too thick. When I
go back, I'm going to be careful to give personal interviews to
papers that didn't slander me, and snub the ones that did.
There's no better way of getting even with a newspaper."

Martha Kent knocked on the wall before entering the room.
"Lois's bed is all made up. You can have the couch, Clark --
unless...?" She looked hopefully at them. Lois and Clark looked
at each other for a moment and simultaneously burst into
laughter.

"We're not," Lois said between sputters, "unless you count
huddling up to each other to keep warm at night in the
mountains."

Martha laughed. "Oh well, six months isn't so long. You know
where to find the blankets, Clark."

Clark could tell he was scarlet. "Mom, you're incorrigible!"

"Well, a mother can hope," Martha said, sending Lois into
another fit of giggles.

"And I used to think you got your Midwestern values from your
upbringing," she said, after Martha had departed.

"I did," Clark said. "What makes you think we Midwesterners are
saints? Weren't you the one who talked about me giving a girl a
hickey behind the Dairy Freeze?"

"*Did* you ever give a girl a hickey?"

He grinned. "No. It always seemed kind of mean to me -- sort of
like a guy was trying to put his brand on a girl. Besides, Lana
would have killed me, and Rachel would have done worse."

"I've never met Lana, but I can believe it about Rachel. Does
she know we're here, do you know?"

"I have no idea. Probably not. I don't think anyone has had time
to call her."

"We probably should. If any more 'journalists' -- to use the
word loosely -- show up here, we're going to want her to know
what's going on so she can be ready."

"I'll call her in the morning," Clark said. "She's probably
already gone home for the day by now."

"Considering it's nearly ten, I believe it," Lois said. "Why
don't you show me my room, Mr. Kent?"

"Anything you wish, Ms. Lane," Clark said.

**********

Rachel Harris entered the small office that belonged to the
County Sheriff's Department in Smallville just as the phone on
her desk rang. The day was definitely starting early, she
thought. She shook her head and crossed to the desk to answer on
the second ring. "Sheriff's Office."

"Hi, Rachel!" The voice was familiar, and it took her a moment
before she recognized Clark Kent.

"Clark?"

"That's right. I thought I'd better call you first thing, and
let you know I'm in Smallville."

"You're here?"

"I'm at my parents' farm," Clark said. "I heard from Mom and Dad
that there have been some reporters hanging around."

"If you want to call them that," Rachel said.

Clark's voice laughed dryly. "No comment."

Rachel also laughed. "I guess you're hiding out from them for
now, huh?"

"Kind of," Clark agreed.

"What's the real story?" she couldn't help asking. "The rumors
are flying about you and Mrs. Luthor."

"Lois Lane," Clark said, firmly. "She never took Luthor's name.
Look, Rachel, I don't want to be seen in public for now. If
you'd like to drop by when you have time, I can give you the
whole story."

"I might do that," Rachel said. Another thought occurred to her.
"Is Miss...uh...Lane there with you?"

Clark's voice hesitated for a long moment. "Yes," he said,
finally. "You didn't hear that, by the way. Someone with his eye
on Luthor's fortune apparently wants her dead -- and, of course,
every news service in the country is after her. She has to stay
out of sight until a month after Luthor's death, so no one will
profit by managing to dispose of her."

Rachel could feel her eyebrows climbing at the statement.
"You're sure of this?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Clark said. "Our pilot bailed out and left
us to crash. If I didn't know how to land a plane, we'd be
dead."

"Oh," Rachel said. That hadn't been in the news conference.
There had been a report of an attempted assault on Mrs. Luthor,
but it had been fairly vague, with a strong implication by the
media that the so-called incident had been simply an
overreaction by Mrs. Luthor to an overly aggressive reporter.
Evidently there was more to the story. A thought occurred to
her. "And I suppose it's possible that whoever is after Miss
Lane could show up in Smallville."

"Let's say it wouldn't be impossible," Clark's voice said,
sounding a little grim. "They know Lois is hiding somewhere, and
when they decide she isn't in Metropolis, the next place they're
going to look is here."

"All right," Rachel said, after a moment, "I guess we'd better
not do too much talking on the phone. I'll try to make time to
come out there when I can. Um...you'll be there, won't you?"

"We're not going anywhere for now," Clark said.

"All right," Rachel said. "Expect me when you see me."

Clark hung up and Rachel put down the receiver. The conversation
with Clark had given her plenty to think about. The thought of
big-time city crime and corruption coming to Smallville wasn't
something that she liked but if it did it was up to her to root
it out. It looked like a visit to the Kent farm to get the whole
story was on her agenda this morning.

Greg Ross, one of her deputies, who was just pulling into the
little parking lot next to the Sheriff's Office, looked oddly at
her as she headed for her squad car. "Going somewhere,
Sheriff?"

"Yeah. If you need me, call my cell phone," Rachel said. "And if
any more of those vultures show up looking for the Kents, send
them out by way of Potter's Slough, would you?"

Greg snorted. "Actually, I was thinking of Whittaker's Bog," he
said. "That should keep them busy for a few hours. Especially if
they take the long way around the lake and past the power
station."

"Sounds even better," Rachel said, recalling the maze of rutted,
dirt and gravel roads that the unfortunate members of the media
would have to traverse. "Do that. Might let Dan, at the service
station, know if you do, so the truck can be out of service when
they call. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Greg nodded matter-of-factly and proceeded on into the Sheriff's
Office.

**********

The Kent farm looked peaceful and serene in the morning
sunlight. The four milk cows that the Kents maintained were
grazing placidly in a nearby field, and not far away, in a
smaller field adjoining the one with the cows, Espresso, their
new coal-black stud bull was lying in the shade of a tree.
Rachel pulled her squad car into the bare area in front of the
house and cut the engine. A pair of chickens wandered aimlessly
by, pecking at the ground as she got out and slammed the door.
The terrier mix that had been around for the past year ambled
out to greet her and followed her toward the house, sniffing at
the backs of her legs. She noted that Jonathan Kent had finally
surrendered to the inevitable, as the dog now wore a collar and
a brand new license tag.

As she climbed the steps to the big front porch, the door opened
and Clark Kent said, "Come on in, Rachel."

She stepped into the homey living room. A dark-haired woman in a
pair of loose jeans, pulled tightly around her waist by a wide,
leather belt, and a shirt that looked like one of Jonathan
Kent's, was sitting on the sofa, and Rachel recognized Lex
Luthor's widow, Lois Lane.

"I guess you know Lois," Clark said. "Can I get you some
coffee?"

"Sure." Rachel glanced around. "Are your parents here?"

Clark shook his head. "Dad's out working in the barn, I think. I
told him I'd talk to you. Mom went into town to get Lois some
clothes. Have a seat. I'll get the coffee."

Rachel took the rocking chair, regarding the heiress curiously.
Somehow, she had expected the woman to have changed from the
hard-driven reporter that she had met months previously and in
that she had been correct but the changes were not the ones she
might have expected. Gone was the abrasive, almost arrogant
female journalist. In her place was a pale-faced woman in
too-large clothing, with a faintly grim set to her mouth and
chin. She didn't look like a woman who had come suddenly into a
fortune.

"I guess the story the media is telling isn't the whole one,"
Rachel said, after an uncomfortable pause.

Lois Lane shook her head. "Not exactly."

"Want to tell me what happened?" Rachel asked.

"We intend to." Clark re-entered the room, a cup and saucer in
his hands. "You take two sugars, if I remember right."

"That's right." Rachel took the coffee cup, inhaling the aroma.
Martha Kent's coffee was so far above the stuff brewed in her
office that the concoctions might have been two different
beverages entirely.

Clark handed a second cup and saucer to Lois Lane and
disappeared momentarily, reappearing almost at once with a third
cup. He took a seat on the sofa, facing Rachel. "We thought you
should know what happened, in case anybody who shouldn't comes
snooping around. They could."

"So I gathered from what you said on the phone."

"All right, then," Clark said. He glanced at Lois Lane. "Do you
want to tell it, or shall I?"

Lois sipped her coffee. "Go ahead."

"All right." He regarded the woman beside him in a way that made
Rachel faintly uneasy. There was almost an intimacy to the look.
Then, he turned to Rachel. "I'm sure you heard what happened to
Luthor. Perry White, Jimmy Olsen, Jack Brown and I worked
together to prove that he was behind the bombing of the Planet.
When the police showed up to arrest him, he chose to dive out
the window of the Lexor rather than be arrested. Lois hid out at
my place for several days, and then we decided that the best
thing we could do was to get out of town..."

Rachel listened in silence as Clark told the story of the plane
trip, the vanishing pilot, the hike through the mountains, their
encounter with the "search team" from LexCorp, the attempt on
Lois Lane's life at the ranger station, and finally their escape
from the media and their arrival at the Kent farm. When he
finished, she looked at the two reporters for a long moment in
silence.

"Wow," she said at last. "That's quite a story. So now what?"

"We decided," Lois Lane said, "that I should stay out of sight
until a month has passed since Lex's death. After that, by the
laws of the state of New Troy, my death won't help whoever is
after Lex's money. In the meantime, our editor and my lawyers
are preparing for me to donate his fortune to the Superman
Foundation. That will get it out of my life. But, until then,
whoever tried to kill me is going to be hunting for me and one
of the obvious places for them to look is Smallville. They could
easily show up pretending to be another team of reporters."

Rachel had already thought of that. She nodded briskly. "We'll
do our best to keep the mob away," she said, "and I'll alert my
men to keep an eye on them -- without telling them you're here,
of course. The fewer who know it, the better it will be for
everybody, I think. The story will be that there have been some
anonymous threats against the Kents. There are always a few
nutballs who send threats to anyone in the news, you know --
usually people looking for vicarious thrills. We've actually had
a couple about your parents, as a matter of fact."

"You have?" Clark looked alarmed.

"Yeah. One was from a high schooler over at Smallville High. He
apologized to Martha and Jonathan after we caught him. He was
just trying to cause some excitement. He did, too. We charged
him with malicious mischief and Judge Tibbets ordered him to
perform two hundred hours of community service. His dad wasn't
satisfied, though. He's got him cleaning out barns, for free,
all over the county, and I'd say his summer vacation is pretty
much shot. The other one was from a guy in his fifties who makes
a regular habit of it. We recognized the style right away and
he's got a court date next week."

"Oh. Norville Greene," Clark said, obviously relaxing. "I should
have figured."

"How'd you know that?" Rachel asked, in surprise.

"I used to live around here, remember," Clark pointed out,
dryly. "And I *was* the editor of the Smallville Press."

"Yeah, I guess you were," Rachel admitted. "It's just that
you're a big city reporter now. I didn't think you'd remember."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "I'm still from Smallville. I never
forget that."

Rachel smiled, conceding the fact. Clark might be an ace
reporter for the Daily Planet now, but she still remembered the
sweet, awkward boy who had played with her as a child, and later
become the handsome captain of the football team in high school.
He'd dated Lana Lang in their senior year, but he'd ended up
taking Rachel to the prom because of Lana's mysterious case of
poison ivy that appeared two days before the prom.

Rachel had a fairly good idea how that case of poison ivy had
come about although she'd never told Clark, since she didn't
know for sure. Besides, gossiping about Lana wouldn't have
improved Clark's opinion of her. Rachel's cousin, Vern Whipple,
had been flirting with Lana for weeks, and he had coincidentally
turned up with a poison ivy rash at the very same time, one that
covered him from head to toe according to his mother, who had
told Rachel's mother within Rachel's hearing. Tuttle Park,
traditionally a favorite location and Lover's Lane for high
school kids (or the Passion Pit, as her father had referred to
it) was also well known for its poison ivy. Every year there was
an effort to clear it out, and every spring it came back as
thick as ever. But Lana's poison ivy rash had covered her
shoulders and arms, and, Rachel had heard from other female
friends, a number of other places that it ought not to have
contacted at all. Lana had been confined to her house for over a
week, leaving Clark without a date for the prom. And so he'd
asked Rachel, who had been more than willing to take up the
slack.

But now, Lois Lane was Clark's partner at the Daily Planet.
Rachel had seen the way they interacted on their previous visit
to Smallville, when those crazy government agents had been
looking for a rock that they thought would kill Superman, and
their leader had tried to shoot Clark in the back. When she'd
heard that Lois Lane was the intended of Lex Luthor,
Metropolis's most prominent citizen, she'd hoped that maybe
Clark would come back to Smallville for a time. He had come
back, all right -- but with Mrs. Luthor in tow. Still, the
situation wasn't exactly romantic. Maybe she could manage to get
Clark alone while he was here and casually inquire into their
situation.

In any case, she had a job to do. Lois Luthor -- or Lane, she
amended, since Clark had stressed that his partner had never
taken Luthor's name -- was quite probably in danger. Men and
women had been murdered over fifty dollars, much less the ten or
so billion that she had apparently inherited from her husband of
less than an hour. If a quarter of the things that the papers
were feverishly reporting about the world's third richest man
were true, he'd undoubtedly had associates that wouldn't balk
for an instant over the idea of murdering his widow in order to
remove her as his main heir; or was that heiress? Some of the
reporting teams already in Smallville might very well be agents
of whoever it was that wanted Lois Lane dead. Since she and
Clark had successfully evaded the assassin at the ranger
station, as well as the various representatives of the media,
the hunt for her was probably in high gear by now.

She set down her empty coffee cup. "I'd better get back and put
things in motion," she said. "We'll do our best to keep the
wolves away from the farm but do me a big favor and stay out of
sight, both of you. If the word gets out that you're here,
Superman himself couldn't keep the media away."

Clark glanced at Lois Lane and Rachel saw her smile faintly.
"We'll do our best," Clark said, getting to his feet. "Thanks,
Rach. I knew we could count on you."

**********

After the Sheriff had gone, Lois looked after the trail of dust
that her car had made in the driveway. Rachel was a very pretty
girl, in a corn-fed kind of way, and she sure seemed to have an
eye for Clark. "You took her to the prom?"

"Uh huh," Clark said. "Why?"

"Was she a serious girlfriend?"

"Huh?" Clark seemed genuinely surprised. "No, not really. We
dated a few times in high school but in my senior year Lana Lang
was my steady."

"Really? Then why did you take Rachel to the prom?"

Clark's mind seemed to be somewhere else. "Oh, that. Lana came
down with poison ivy at the last minute, Rachel didn't have a
date and I didn't either, so I called her. We went and had a
good time. That was all there was to it."

"Oh," Lois said.

Clark seemed to pull his attention back to her. "Sorry. I was
checking out my telescopic vision. Don't tell me you're worrying
about Rachel?"

"No -- not really," Lois said.

"Good, because you shouldn't. You're the one that I lie awake at
night thinking about; not Rachel."

"Really?" she said, gratified.

"Yep."

"Oh," Lois said. She cleared her throat. "How's your telescopic
vision coming along?"

"It's better. Still not back to where it was before the cage."

"Have any of your other powers come back?"

"Hearing -- some, anyway. I want to go out into the barn and see
if I can lift some of Dad's farm machinery where no passersby
can see me. That should tell me where I am, physically." He
glanced around. "The pickup's gone. Dad said something earlier
about going into town to get a part for the tractor. I guess he
did."

"How about flying?" she asked.

He closed his eyes and she held her breath. He opened his eyes
and shook his head. "Not yet."

"Well, give it a little more time," she said. "It will come
back."

"I think you're probably right," he said. "I sure hope you
are."

"I am. Give it time." She slipped her hand into his. "You keep
telling me to have patience and stay out of the investigation in
Metropolis, and I'm telling you the same thing about your
powers. It's not easy for either of us but it's important.
Superman will be back -- and so will Mad Dog Lane. Eventually."

**********

"Good. As soon as you have the papers drawn up, I'll fax a copy
to Lois so she can look it over and make any corrections.
Right." Perry White put down the phone and picked up the copy of
the Metropolis Star that lay on his desk. A photo of Lois taken
for her wedding announcement with Lex Luthor was prominently
displayed on the front page, along with the caption: "The
Ultimate Gold Digger?" The other paper had obviously given up
all pretense of objectivity. The editor of the Star had a bone
to pick with Lois dating back two years and the man was playing
it for all it was worth. It was going to be eminently satisfying
to watch him try to save face when the headline hit the Planet
announcing the donation of virtually the entire fortune to the
Superman Foundation, minus whatever amount it took to compensate
employees who had been impacted by the destruction of the Daily
Planet. For just a few seconds, Perry allowed himself to dwell
pleasurably on the thought. Scoring a few points over his old
rival wouldn't hurt his feelings either, but mostly he was
looking forward to it because of Lois and on basic principle.
The kind of shenanigans that the Star was engaging in was what
gave honest newspapers a bad name. People got the idea that all
of them had an agenda, instead of simply being in the business
of reporting the news accurately and fairly, so that the readers
could make up their own minds.

It had turned out that Lois's inheritance of Luthor's legitimate
financial assets was larger than they had thought at first. At
least, no one had been able to prove that certain questionable
parts of his immense wealth had not been acquired legally and
the legitimate amount of the man's fortune totaled in the
neighborhood of twenty-seven billion. Although a very large
chunk of his assets were just as unquestionably gained through
illegal means, the thirteen and a half billion that was Lois's
share was no small sum to simply give away. Personally, Perry
wasn't certain that he could do it if it were his instead of
Lois's. On the other hand, he could understand her reasons. Lois
wasn't the kind of person who could comfortably live behind
electric fences and patrolling Dobermans for the rest of her
life.

Jack Brown crossed the Pit and stopped to speak to Jimmy Olsen
by the copy machine. Those two boys were a dreadful duo, he
thought with some amusement, but they were a formidable team.
When he wanted something done a little outside the normal
channels, he hadn't found anybody better, except possibly Lane
and Kent. They'd been very busy during the last day.

There was a knock on his door and he sighed in resignation. It
was that psychiatrist again. The woman had somehow convinced Mr.
Stern that some of the Daily Planet's employees might be
suffering from stress and that having a staff psychiatrist
available might improve the mental health and thereby the
productiveness of the staff. Perry wasn't nearly as sure of it
as Mr. Stern seemed to be, but he hadn't been given a choice.

"Come in," he called.

Arianna Carlin was a very beautiful woman, probably, Perry
judged, in her early-to mid-thirties. Not only was she a doctor
of psychiatry, she was also the author of several books and
wrote a syndicated column for newspapers all across the country.
She stepped through the door, smiling sweetly at him.

"I was wondering," she said. "I know that you can't give any
information out about the location of Lois Luthor and Clark
Kent, but since they're both listed as employees, surely they
have to return to work eventually. I'm very eager to speak with
them -- especially Mrs. Luthor. The trauma that she has endured
can't help but have an effect on her emotional health. Surely
you can give me some information about that?"

She paused, an expectant smile hovering on her lips.

Perry resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. "Lois *Lane*," he
emphasized, "is taking an extended sabbatical. She and Kent will
be returning after some of the media circus has died down. I'm
afraid I can't tell you any more than that."

Dr. Carlin frowned. "Surely she understands her new situation,"
she said. "She's become a very wealthy woman. Frankly, I don't
understand how she can possibly be an effective reporter, given
the circumstances."

Perry shook his head. "Why don't you let Lois and me worry about
it, Doctor," he said. "I'm afraid I can't discuss Lois with
anyone at the present time."

"I'm only concerned over how her new situation will affect her
and the Daily Planet," she said. "Her refusal to use
Lex...Luthor's name only emphasizes the fact that she has failed
to accept the fact that she's his wife. Or widow," she added,
belatedly. "That kind of denial seems to indicate bigger
problems that I'm very anxious to help her explore."

"Regardless of that," Perry said mildly, "I think you'd do
better counseling the people here. After Lois gets back is more
than time to decide what -- if anything -- needs to be done."

"I suppose you're right," the psychiatrist said, "but I take my
responsibilities very seriously."

"I'm sure you do," Perry said. "However, that's for later. Is
there anything else?"

"No," Dr. Carlin said. "Do you have an approximate date for her
return, or a way to contact her?"

"The answer to the first question is I'm afraid not," Perry
said. "As for getting hold of her, I believe she and Kent are on
a cruise ship, but I don't know which one and I'm told they're
registered under pseudonyms to keep the press off their backs.
She's contacted me twice, so far, to have someone feed her fish
and to let me know that she and Kent were all right, after their
adventure in the mountains."

"Oh," Dr. Carlin said. She put a hand on the doorknob. "I'll be
in my office if anyone wishes to speak to me." She smiled
fractionally. "I wish that you would speak to your staff, Perry.
None of them have taken advantage of my availability, so far."

Perry could understand that. "I'll mention it in the morning
briefing," he said.

"Thank you," Arianna said.

Perry looked thoughtfully after Dr. Carlin as the door closed
behind her. He might be mistaken, but he hadn't become editor of
the Daily Planet because he could yodel and if she hadn't been
handing him a load of bullsh...uh, psychobabble, then he was
Elvis's first cousin once removed. Well, the thought of Dr.
Carlin being involved in the attempt on Lois's life wasn't a
pleasant one but she seemed a little too interested in the
whereabouts of Lois and Clark for Perry's peace of mind. After a
long moment spent frowning at the closed door, he got to his
feet. He'd been a pretty decent investigative reporter not all
that long ago. It was time to put a little of his old knowledge
to work. Maybe it was just his overactive imagination, but
considering the apparent attempts on Lois's life, he wasn't
willing to simply let it slide. Better to be sure. If his
instinct was right, Arianna Carlin wouldn't be the first person
to put money ahead of reputation and ethics, after all. If she
had been planted here in the office to try to find out where
Lois was hiding, he -- and Henderson -- needed to know it.
Making up his mind, Perry went to the door and pushed it open.

"Olsen!" he barked. "In my office, now!"

**********

"Somehow I thought of a barn as different," Lois said, wrinkling
her nose slightly. There was a definite aroma of animals in the
big building, in spite of the fact that the door was wide open.
"I expected it to be full of cows and chickens or something."

"The cows are out in the field right now," Clark pointed out.
"They don't stay in the barn 24/7. And neither do the chickens.
Besides, we have a hen house." He made his way past the tractor.
"Dad keeps his tools and stuff back here." He pointed to one of
the three storerooms near the rear of the barn. "There's feed in
that one. Dad said he had to go into town to get a new belt for
the tractor. The old one is worn."

"Do tractors wear belts?" Lois asked. She glanced up at the
faint scrabbling sound of claws in time to see an orange cat
leap gracefully from one wooden beam to another and vanish into
the loft.

"This one is for the fan," Clark said. After a moment's
consideration, Lois dismissed the mental picture of a revolving
fan.

"I guess you don't mean the kind of fan for cooling people off,"
she said. "I don't know a lot about tractors."

"No; this is the kind of fan for cooling the engine off," Clark
said. "Pretty much the same as for a car engine. Last time I was
here, a couple of weeks ago, he was talking about the tractor's
motor overheating." He guided her past stacked bales of hay,
around several bags that probably held feed, and opened one of
the splintery wooden doors. "Watch your step. There's a lot of
stuff in here to trip over."

"What are you looking for?" Lois asked.

"Something heavy but not too heavy," Clark said. "I want to see
if my strength is coming back at all."

"Well, how about that big iron thing," Lois said, pointing.
"That looks pretty heavy."

Clark appeared to examine the big object carefully. "Okay, I
guess it will do for starters." He bent, trying to get a good
grip. "Stay back. If I drop it, I don't want it to land on your
foot."

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

"It's the engine block to Dad's old tractor," Clark said. "It's
been in the barn so long I'd forgotten about it."

Lois watched as he bent at the knees, gripped the thing, and
heaved. The solid chunk of iron came up off the floor, but Lois
could see the muscles bulge in his arms and thighs and sweat
broke out on his face. After a moment, he lowered it to the
floor again and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. "Whew!"

"You did it!" Lois said.

"Yeah, but I had to work," Clark said. "I'm not back yet."

"How much does that thing weigh?" Lois asked, glancing at it. A
big chunk of iron that size had to be pretty heavy.

"Only about five hundred pounds," Clark said, sounding
discouraged.

"*Only* five hundred pounds? Clark, do you know how many normal
men can lift five hundred pounds like that? The only people who
can lift stuff that heavy are professional weight lifters. I'd
say you're doing pretty well!"

"I lifted it when I was fifteen," Clark said. "That's why it's
in here instead of out in the main barn. Dad wanted it out of
the way. It was easier then."

"Okay," Lois said, "but you hadn't been in a Kryptonite cage for
hours and hours, and picked up a case of Kryptonite poisoning
when you were fifteen. The point is, you're a lot stronger than
you were only a couple of days ago. Your powers are coming back.
It's just going to take time." She put a hand on his arm. "Like
you always tell me; you have to have patience. If I can stay
here in Kansas, away from an investigation that I'm itching to
dive into, you can wait a little while to become Superman again,
can't you?"

He looked down at her and she saw the faintly sulky look on his
face relax into a smile. "I guess you've got a point," he
admitted. "I guess I'm acting like a spoiled little kid, aren't
I?"

"Well...maybe just a little," she said. She slipped her arms
around his waist. "Look at it this way. If we can't get involved
in the investigation, we can take a little time off and..." She
hesitated before summoning up the nerve to say it, "just be in
love."

His face softened at her words. "You know, I haven't heard a
better idea for a long time," he said. "And Mom and Dad won't be
back for a while yet."

"Gee, I hadn't thought of that," Lois said ironically.

He grinned. "I'll bet. It's too bad I can't take you over to
Lover's Lane tonight, but it probably wouldn't be too good an
idea. There's too much chance someone would see us. Rachel's
deputies check the place pretty often, for obvious reasons."

"Oh? Where's Lover's Lane around here?"

"Tuttle Park." He put his arms around her as well. "It's over on
the east side of town."

"Well, we could have your dad drive us there and we could go
walking," Lois suggested. "You can show me all the places that
her deputies don't go."

"Nope; not a good idea," he said firmly. "Tuttle Park has a
poison ivy problem. They try to clear it out every winter and it
comes back as thick as ever every spring. I wouldn't want you to
have to spend the next couple of weeks recovering."

"Definitely not," Lois said. An idea occurred to her. "Was that
how Lana got her poison ivy?"

"You mean when I took Rachel to the prom?" He chuckled.
"Probably; but I didn't take her there. Rachel's cousin Vern had
a real bad case at the same time. He missed the prom, too. I
always figured that they'd been out there together."

"Was that why you and Lana broke up?"

He shook his head. "No. You have to know Lana. She and I were
friends but we weren't really suited for each other. Besides, I
had a scholarship at Midwest U and Lana was headed out to
Berkeley. We just kind of drifted apart after high school. We
stayed friends but we never had any serious intentions of
getting married."

"I wonder if she thought so," Lois said.

"Oh, sure," Clark said. "Lana had visions of becoming a business
executive with a penthouse apartment and tons of prestige in the
business world, and a lowly journalist wouldn't have suited her
image."

"I happen to like your image," Lois said. "There are things more
important than prestige and penthouse apartments."

Clark grinned down at her. "Oh? And what would those be?"

"Well, let's see..."

**********

The sound of a vehicle pulling up outside the barn, some five
minutes later, interrupted what was becoming a very interesting
non-conversation. Lois had been just about to suggest that they
move from the barn's storeroom into the house when Clark lifted
his head and Lois became aware of the somewhat uneven sound of
an engine and the crunch of tires on the ground outside. She was
conscious of a definite sense of disappointment at the knowledge
that Martha or Jonathan was back from town and began, rather
resignedly, to move toward the main room of the barn.

Clark's hand on her arm stopped her. "That's not one of our
cars. Stay here out of sight and I'll go see who it is."

She'd almost forgotten, for a few minutes, that she was a hunted
woman, she thought wryly. If some news team had finally managed
to locate the Kent farm, the last thing she wanted was to let
them know that she was here.

The sound of the motor cut off. Clark picked up a shovel, mussed
his hair slightly, pulled the tail of his shirt, that he had
tucked into his waistband, out so that it hung loosely about his
hips, and slouched out of the storeroom, swinging the door
partially closed behind him.

"Hey you!" The voice was male and Lois didn't recognize it,
which wasn't surprising. "Is this the Kent place?"

"Who are you?" Clark's voice asked.

"Ben Maher from the Topeka Intelligencer. I'm looking for
Jonathan Kent. That wouldn't be you, would it?"

"Nope," Clark's voice said. "I'm Jake. I just work here."

"Well, is he around?"

"Nope," Clark said. "Him and Mrs. Kent're over at the Garrison
place. They're butchering hogs this week. If you like, I'll tell
him you were here."

"No; never mind." The man's voice dropped and Lois had to strain
her ears to hear what he said. "I'm actually looking for their
son -- a Clark Kent. You wouldn't know if he's here, would
you?"

"Clark?" Clark said, sounding puzzled. "Far as I know, he ain't
been here for months. He works for that big newspaper in
Metropolis. The one that got blown up a couple of months back."

"I know. You sure you haven't seen him?"

"Yup." Lois could almost hear Clark nod. "Mr. Kent was talking
about going to Metropolis next week to see him. He's gonna be
paying me extra to take care of the place while him and the
missus are gone."

"Well, do you mind if I look around the place a little, just to
get a feel for it?"

Lois could almost hear the slow shake of Clark's head. "'Fraid I
can't do that. Mr. Kent'd fire me on the spot. He's got
pedigreed chickens and cows, and a pedigreed stud bull and he's
worried about rustlers stealing 'em. He don't want no strangers
wandering around his property. If'n he comes back and finds you
where you ain't supposed to be, he'll probably let you have it
with his shotgun. Loads it with rock salt. If you wanta talk to
him, you better come back when he's here." Lois resolutely
clamped her mouth shut. Clark sounded like the hayseed she'd
wanted to believe he was when he'd first come to work at the
Planet. Superman might stand for truth and justice, and have
that straightforward boy-next-door charm, but he was also a
gifted actor.

"Well, do you know when he'll be back?"

"Dunno." There was the effect of a shrug in Clark's voice.
"Butchering hogs usually takes all day. You could go over there,
if you really wanta see him, though."

"Where's this place?"

"It's over at the Garrison farm. They got a little, one-horse
hog operation. You want directions?"

The man sounded skeptical. "It's not over by that big swamp, is
it?"

"Potter's Slough? Naw. You take the Whittaker cutoff..."

Lois listened while Clark gave painstaking directions to the
intrepid newsman and waited as the motor came on again. Gravel
sprayed and she heard the roar of the engine diminishing. When
the sound had died away completely, she emerged from the barn.
"Isn't the owner of that place going to be a little confused
when a newsman shows up there, looking for your father?"

"No," Clark said blandly. "The Garrison Hog Farm went out of
business ten years ago. Besides, I sent him over toward
Whittaker's Bog."

Lois began to laugh. "I thought Superman never lied," she
sputtered.

"Superman didn't lie," Clark said innocently, but she noticed
that the corners of his mouth were trying to turn up. "That was
Jake. But now we'll have to decide where we're going to hide out
tomorrow when the guy shows up again looking for my blood."

"We could bury him in your mom's garden," Lois suggested.

"No, I think I'll give Rachel a call so she'll be ready when Mr.
Maher gets back into town," Clark said. "And we'll have to warn
Dad. Now that Maher's found the place, the others are going to
find it too."

**********

"Jake, huh?" Jonathan Kent grinned and glanced out the window at
the gravel road leading to the highway that passed the Kent farm
at some distance from the house. "Don't worry. If your friend
shows up again, I'll deal with him. But I thought I taught you
better than that, son." He shook his head more in sorrow than in
anger. "Why in heaven's name didn't you send him out to
Porcupine Gulch?"

"It seemed like kind of a long way," Clark explained. "I wasn't
sure he'd go for it. Besides, I didn't want searchers to find
his bleached bones there next summer."

"I suggested we bury him in Martha's garden," Lois offered.

Jonathan snorted. "Not a good idea. We want the garden to keep
producing vegetables. I'm not sure he'd make good fertilizer;
you remember the Intelligencer, don't you, Clark?"

Clark made a face. "It's kind of a local version of the National
Whisper," he explained to Lois. "And almost the same quality."

"Still," Jonathan said, "he may not give directions to the other
reporters. He isn't going to want a bunch of competition."

"He'll probably do it just for the nuisance value," Lois said.
"What are we going to do? "

"Well..." Martha, who had remained silent up until now, spoke
up. "If Maher comes back asking for Jake, you can watch me do my
best imitation of Maw Clampett. By the time I'm through with
him, he'll be over at the hospital, getting his stomach
pumped."

"Mom, you can't poison him!" Clark said. "A joke's a joke, but
--"

"I don't intend to," Martha said, placidly. "I'll just serve him
some of my beef stew that I'm going to make for dinner tomorrow.
It won't be my fault if he thinks it's 'possum tails and skunk
livers.' Or not much, anyway."

Lois managed to limit the guffaw that threatened to break loose
to an odd-sounding choke. She had no doubt that Martha would do
exactly as she said. If any reporters did manage to find the
Kents, she had a strong suspicion that they were going to regret
it. Two days on the Kent farm had definitely changed her opinion
of country folks. She'd be willing to match them up against the
residents of Metropolis -- or any other city -- any day of the
week and bet heavily on Jonathan and Martha.

"And I'll deal with any questions about Jake," Jonathan said.
"Don't worry about that. You, however, need to be somewhere
else," he added firmly. "I'd suggest you take Lois sightseeing
in some of the nearby towns -- or go to the library over in
Pepper. Nobody's going to be looking for you there."

"That's an idea," Lois said. "Do they have computers in the
Pepper library -- and who the heck names a town Pepper,
anyway?"

"I have no idea," Martha said. "If it were me, I'd have named it
Zucchini."

Clark cast her a sharp glance, and it took Lois a moment to
realize, from the innocent expression on her face, that Clark's
mother was joking.

"Actually," Clark said, "they named it Pepper because a big part
of its agriculture production a hundred years ago was different
kinds of peppers. For some reason the climate there is ideal for
growing peppers -- or was -- so that was what they named the
town."

"Oh," Lois said. "How come I never heard about it before?"

"Well," Clark said, "its main crop isn't peppers anymore. The
Dust Bowl conditions kind of wiped out their pepper industry.
They still grow some peppers but not nearly in the quantity they
used to. Their cash crop is mostly wheat."

"Oh," Lois said. Clark, naturally, would know such trivia.
Superman must have the time for a tremendous amount of reading,
considering his super speed and photographic memory. She
wondered what other talents he hadn't thought to mention to her.
Getting to know all there was to know about Clark was going to
be a lifetime job. The thought made her smile. 

"You can look up the history in their library if you want to,"
Martha said, bringing her thoughts back to the current problem.
"I agree with Jonathan -- it would be better for you two not to
be around if Mr. Maher comes back, especially if he lets it be
known that he's found the farm. I think you should pack up your
stuff and head for Pepper, or one of the other towns around
here. Maybe check into a motel or camp out by Callahan's Creek
or maybe even at Domino Lake for two or three days. I know the
idea of camping probably doesn't set too well with you right
now, but if you take along enough supplies, and so forth, it
won't be anything like the walk through the mountains. Just be
sure you have a cell phone with you."

"We don't have any. Perry wanted to get them for us so we could
report from the field," Lois said unhappily. "Unfortunately,
that was about the time Lex started his campaign to bankrupt the
Planet so he could buy it, so we never got them."

"That's all right," Martha said. "You can borrow mine. You can
call us if you need to and we can call you when we're sure the
coast is clear again. We've got plenty of camping gear. We used
to take Clark there on weekend camping trips. There's a camping
area out there for families to camp and swim and hike and so
forth. And you can always camp on the beach, too."

Clark looked doubtfully at Lois. "What do you think?"

"Well --" Lois considered the idea dubiously. "I kind of
overdosed on camping out the last few days, but if we've got all
the supplies we'll need --" The thought of the mob of frenzied
reporters, all trying to claw their way to her at the Ranger
station -- not to mention the assassin who had tried to kill her
-- tipped her decision in favor of the expedition. "I guess we
could manage it for a day or two."

"And, Jonathan pointed out, "Clark will have plenty of time in
the sun. Maybe a few good tanning sessions will be enough to
recharge his powers."

"What does the sun have to do with it?" Lois asked.

"I seem to absorb sunlight," Clark explained. "If I'm using my
super powers a lot at night, I start to feel tired sooner than
if I'm doing the same thing in the daylight. Dr. Klein, at STAR
Labs, thinks Superman's powers come from sunlight. He was going
to run some tests but then I got distracted by the things that
have happened in the last few weeks and we didn't get around to
it."

"Oh," Lois said. "Speaking of your powers, how are you feeling
now? He lifted the engine block for your old tractor," she
added, to Jonathan. "He's definitely stronger than he was
yesterday."

"Yeah," Clark said, "but it was heavy. My powers are coming
back, but awfully slowly. The other time, with Trask, they came
back all at once."

"That time," his father said, "you were exposed to the stuff for
a few minutes at most. You weren't stuck in a cage made of
Kryptonite for hours on end, and you didn't get sick from the
radiation --"

"We don't *know* that's what made me sick," Clark said.

"Don't quibble," Martha said. "Can you think of anything else
that would be likely to make you that sick?"

"Well --"

"Exactly," his mother said, in what Lois had come to recognize
as her "no argument" tone of voice. "You've never been sick a
day in your life except this once. I think we can assume the
Kryptonite caused it."

"Yeah, probably. I'm just worried that my powers won't come back
all the way," Clark said. "I didn't realize how much I missed
being Superman until they were gone."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Martha said
briskly. "Don't be a pessimist, honey. All we know right now is
that you're starting to get some of your powers back. In the
meantime, let's get the camping gear out and pack everything
you'll need in your rental car. I'll fix lunch so you don't have
to stop for food. The less you're seen anywhere around
Smallville the better -- at least for two or three days."

**********

Pepper looked very much like Smallville, Lois thought, except it
was actually smaller. Clark drove slowly down Main Street, past
the greenery of a wide lawn surrounding an incongruously small
City Hall, while Lois took in the tiny, farming town.

A pre-adolescent boy swooped past on a bicycle, cutting in front
of the car so close that Lois inhaled sharply, half-expecting
the thump of the bumper impacting with the bicycle and its
rider. Clark swerved, simultaneously applying the brake. The
tires squealed in protest at such treatment, but the boy escaped
death by inches. The child never glanced back but rode on,
apparently unaware of the incident.

"It's a wonder to me how they ever manage to grow up," Lois
said. "What are the odds that a kid can pull something like that
over and over and somehow never get killed? It's a good thing
you've got fast reflexes."

"I think they're getting better," Clark said after a pause.

"Your reflexes?"

"Yes. They're better than they were, but they're not back to
normal."

"Give it time," Lois said quietly, putting a hand on his where
it rested on the gearshift. "Your mom is a smart lady."

"I know," Clark said. "I guess after my hearing started coming
back yesterday, I just kind of expected to be back to normal by
today."

"Well, just because things don't work out like you expect it
doesn't mean they won't come out okay," Lois told him. "And I'm
not trying to play Pollyanna, either. You don't know any more
about this than I do, really. If you're no stronger or faster
tomorrow than you are today, *then* you can begin to worry, but
I think you've been improving ever since you got over that
fever. Remember when we were walking through the forest, that
night before we found the helicopter? You could see, even though
I couldn't. I think your powers were beginning to come back, and
have been slowly but steadily getting better ever since. It's
just happening gradually."

Clark appeared to think that over and slowly nodded. "You could
be right," he said after a moment of strict attention to his
driving. "I didn't think about it, but maybe...."

"Good," Lois said. "So, where are we going right now?"

"Well," Clark said, "I thought we'd go over to the library. You
said earlier that you wanted to get to a computer."

"I did, didn't I?" Lois said. "I don't know if it'll do me any
good. I know Henderson's looking for 'The Mrs.' I probably don't
stand a chance. I just wanted to see if Lex was married before.
He said I was the only one, but he lied about everything else,
so why not that?"

"Why don't you call Jimmy?" Clark suggested. "If anybody can
ferret out something like that, it's him."

"That's a good idea. Is there a pay phone around anywhere?"

"Sure. There's one at the service station."

**********

Jimmy Olsen was working on the assignment given to him by his
editor when the phone on his desk rang.

A little surprised, he picked up the receiver. "Olsen."

"Jimmy?" Lois Lane's voice said.

"Just a minute." Jimmy lowered his voice instinctively. He knew
that Lois and Clark had gone to Smallville, since he had been
the one to make arrangements for Perry to rent the car for them
in his name, but his boss had stressed that he was to keep the
information to himself. That psychiatrist, Arianna Carlin, had
asked him casually about Lois and Clark, and Jimmy had told her
all kinds of unimportant things about the two of them, but
claimed ignorance of their whereabouts. He glanced cautiously
around, locating the woman. She was in her office -- the
smallest conference room the Planet had, which had been quickly
converted for her use. He could see her typing something --
probably that column of hers that had replaced the jumble puzzle
in the paper.

Cat was no longer here, of course. She had taken a job with the
Star right after the bombing of the Planet, but the new guy,
Ralph What'sisname, was lounging by the water cooler. In Jimmy's
opinion, Perry had made a mistake hiring him to replace Jerry,
who had reported on local politics for the paper. He spent most
of his time gossiping and hitting on the women in the
secretarial pool. Jimmy didn't like him. He'd even tried to
extract some gossip about Lois from Jimmy, and Jimmy had
politely told him to mind his own business. He didn't want Ralph
to find out that Lois had called. It would be all over the
Planet building inside of fifteen minutes.

But the guy was out of earshot as long as he kept his voice
down. Keeping a discreet eye on the traffic near his desk, Jimmy
cupped his hand over his lips and the receiver, although no one
seemed to be paying him any attention. Sometimes it was a good
thing to be nearly the bottom man on the totem pole. "Lois?" he
asked softly, "is that you?"

"Yes, it's me," Lois said. "I was wondering if you could do
something for me."

"Sure," Jimmy said.

"The thing about 'The Mrs.' gave me an idea. Do you think you
could do some research into Lex's background and find out if
he'd ever been married before?"

"Not a problem," Jimmy said. "In fact, I was just starting it
when you called. The Chief had the same idea that you did."

"He did? Good!" Lois's voice paused. "If you need to get hold of
us for the next couple of days, phone Clark's parents. They'll
get the message to us."

"Is something wrong?" Jimmy asked quickly.

"Not exactly. One of the reporters looking for us finally found
the farm, so Clark and I are going camping for a few days. I
have a cell phone and Clark's parents can get hold of us if you
need them to."

"Oh," Jimmy said. "Okay. I'll let Perry know."

"Great," Lois said.

"Uh -- are you and CK all right? You had a pretty rough time of
it."

"We're fine," Lois said. "We'll have something important to tell
you when we get back next month."

"All right," Jimmy said. The speculations that remark conjured
up were definitely something to spark the imagination. He hadn't
missed the fact that CK had had a heavy crush on Lois since the
day he was hired. Jimmy had been upset that Lois and Luthor were
getting married, but CK, he thought, had been just about as
bummed out as a man could get. He was pretty sure that was what
had made Clark so determined to prove that Luthor was the
criminal that all of them suspected he was. Maybe things weren't
as one-sided as he'd thought they were, after all, now that Lois
had come to her senses. "You two have a good time," he added.

"Well, I'm not so sure about this camping thing, but at least
the media hasn't caught up with us yet," Lois said. "Call the
Kents if you find anything, would you?"

"Will do," Jimmy told her.

"Thanks. Bye."

"Bye," he answered. 

**********

"Something important?" Clark said, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Sure." Lois checked the change slot, on the off chance that
there might be loose change in it. To her gratification, she
discovered a quarter, which she dropped triumphantly into her
pocket. "I don't want to tell everybody, but I think Jimmy and
Perry deserve to know that we're getting married, after all
they've done to help us out. I think Perry might have been
rooting for us all along. He's said a few things that made me
think he wasn't that happy about me marrying Lex."

"Well --" Clark grinned sheepishly. "I've kind of wondered about
that, myself."

"You know," Lois added, as they got back into the rental car,
"one of the things that made me decide on this camping trip was
the idea of me getting you all to myself for a couple of days --
without anybody around."

"We had that in the mountains," Clark pointed out.

"Yes, but we weren't engaged then," Lois said, clinching the
argument.

"That's true," Clark agreed. "Maybe it will be a good sort of
experiment, finding out how we do together as an engaged
couple."

"Maybe," Lois said. "Where is this camping spot that you and
your parents used to go to when you were a kid?"

"Over by Domino Lake," Clark said. "It's not that big a lake,
but it's the only real one in the area. Smallville Lake is about
half the size -- sort of like a big pond, and it's got a picnic
area but no camping facilities. Domino Lake Campground is in a
narrow river valley. They made the lake when they dammed up the
river. There's some woods around it with both a camping and
picnic area -- people bring their campers and tents and stuff.
It isn't very big, but it's the only one around for a couple of
hundred miles. There's running water and restrooms, and little
concrete pits where you can build campfires -- and lots of
privacy if you want it. There's swimming, and hiking trails --"

"Sounds pretty civilized, compared to where we were," Lois
commented.

"Yeah," Clark agreed. "There's bound to be a few other people
around, but they'll be in their own campsites, and we don't have
to socialize if we don't want to."

"That's fine with me," Lois said. "The people I've been around
recently haven't made me want to be a social animal again for a
while -- except for your parents," she amended. "At least they
haven't mobbed me or tried to kill me."

Clark laughed. "I'm glad of that," he said. He started the
engine. "Shall we be on our way?"

"Let's." She fastened the seat belt. "There's not any poison ivy
around there, is there?"

"A little," he admitted. "We'll just have to be careful."

"You mean *I'll* have to be careful," she said.

"I'm not so sure of that," he said. "Who knows whether I'll
react to poison ivy now."

"Did you ever break out from it before you got your powers?"

"No, but I was careful to stay away from it."

"Believe me, it's not possible to stay completely away from it
if it's anywhere in the vicinity. All you can do is try your
best, wear stuff that covers you up mostly and wash a lot. If
you're lucky, you don't get it."

"I thought you never went camping."

"I was a Girl Scout."

"Oh." He glanced sideways at her. "Is that why you knew how to
start fires while we were stranded?"

"No. I read about using a magnifying glass to start a fire in
General Science. I had to take it in my freshman year at Metro
High."

"Oh," he said. "I guess I probably did, too -- but I didn't
think about it. I'm too used to using my heat vision."

"Well, it doesn't matter," Lois said. "This time we have matches
and lighter fluid, and a bunch of other stuff. Do you know how
to pitch a tent?"

"Sure," he said. "Didn't they teach you in Girl Scouts?"

Lois shook her head. "No. The tents were already pitched for us
when we got there."

"Oh. Well, I guess I can teach you," Clark said with a grin. The
smile faded as he glanced sideways at her. "Have I mentioned
today that I've been in love with you from the day we met?"

"No." She felt her cheeks warming. "Were you really?"

He turned back to watch the road. "Yes. Everyone knew it, too --
even Luthor. He knew that Clark Kent loved you -- and he knew
that Superman did, too. I guess I'm lucky that he didn't put two
and two together."

"That's for sure." Lois regarded her hands, clasped in her lap.
"I wish I'd seen it before -- I wish I'd *let* myself see it
before. It would have saved us so much trouble if I'd been smart
enough to know how I felt that afternoon in the park. I could
have turned Lex down and saved you all of this."

Clark slipped a hand over her clasped ones. "Stop beating up on
yourself," he said.

"I'm not --"

"Yes, you are," he said. "You've been blaming yourself for what
happened to me, and for all the rest of it, ever since you found
out the truth. None of it was your fault. Luthor was determined
to have you one way or another. Knowing that Superman wanted
you, too, just added spice to the contest. You didn't blow up
the Planet, you didn't cause it to go nearly bankrupt and you
didn't lock me in a Kryptonite cage. Luthor did it -- all of it.
You mustn't hold yourself responsible for his behavior. From
what we've learned since, that was just his standard way of
doing business. Besides, you're the one that's going to repair
as much of it as can be repaired. No one can ask for more than
that."

She looked up from her clasped hands. Clark was staring at the
road and his jaw was set in the way she had seen Superman do
countless times. Clark did it too, although somehow it had
seemed different on him. Still, she should have seen it before;
should have seen that the superhero that she loved was the
quiet, unassuming, amazing man who worked next to her at the
Daily Planet. She'd armored her heart against love for so long
that she'd had to settle on an unattainable super man or a
billionaire instead of the farmboy from Kansas. She should have
known that there was nothing ordinary about the farmboy, either
-- especially when it dawned on her that facing the life of a
socialite without him was going to be unbearable. Why had she
thought that such pale things as liking and respect for the man
that she had believed Lex was could take the place of the love
that she felt for Clark? With or without Superman's powers,
Clark was something more than special, and she could only be
grateful that when she had finally realized it, it was not too
late after all. And she owed that to Clark as well.

It took barely five minutes to travel from the heart of Pepper
to its outskirts. The buildings of the town were left behind and
she saw that they were driving between fields of waving yellow
grain. In the distance she could see a small building that was
much too tiny to be a house, and beyond that, some kind of
machine with big tires and some kind of windmill or something in
front of it crunching through the tall stalks. No doubt if she
asked Clark he could tell her what it was, but she didn't. She
sat back in the seat, trying to imagine an area with a lake and
campground in this wide, flat country where Clark had grown up.


It was less than half an hour before Clark turned off the main
highway onto an uneven gravel road and Lois realized that, for
all the land's apparent flatness, they were going downhill. The
gravel road dropped steadily until Lois could no longer see the
grain fields. A short time later, it crossed a narrow river on a
bridge that made her hold her breath until they safely reached
the other side and then ran along beside the river for as far as
the eye could see.

Which, she realized, wasn't far. The narrow line of trees
growing beside the creek began to widen until the road was
wending its way between trees that grew on either side of the
road. They must be entering the camping area, Lois thought.

A dirt road crossed the gravel one and Clark turned onto it. The
trees were thicker, although they were nothing like the enormous
pines that they had seen during their hike through the mountains
of Colorado. Clark slowed the car down further, and Lois sat up
straighter, looking around. 

Little paths barely wide enough to accommodate the car branched
off the dirt road and at last Clark turned onto one of them.
They went on another ten minutes, jolting and bumping along the
so-called road that would have been better called a footpath,
Lois thought, crossed another, slightly better-maintained
bridge, and finally, it came to an end in a small clearing.
Clark pulled into the clearing, parked the car by one side of it
and cut the engine.

"We're here," he announced.

**********

William Henderson unlocked the door of his car, which was parked
in the Precinct's parking lot, and slid behind the wheel. The
investigation into "The Mrs." was proceeding slowly, as he had
expected. This was the organization built up by Lex Luthor,
after all. The LexCorp Board of Directors was dodging questions
with the expertise of lawyers, which wasn't surprising since
most of them were lawyers, but he had the feeling that he was
onto something. The Board was battling frantically to save
something from the wreck of the company and apparently had
little time to waste with the police. At least that was the
impression they gave. Henderson wasn't so sure. He'd asked to
speak to Luthor's successor, Richard Isakson, and been told that
the new CEO was out of the country at the moment, on company
business, and would be happy to schedule an appointment with him
at a later date. The person speaking to him, however, was unable
to give an exact time for Mr. Isakson's return. Luthor's former
right hand man, a gentleman by the name of Flanagan, seemed less
than happy at the mention of Luthor's successor but unwilling to
talk about it. None of them, apparently, had heard of the
attempts on the lives of Luthor's widow and her writing partner,
Clark Kent, and all of them professed horror and disbelief at
the story. None of them would admit to knowledge of the search
team in the LexCorp helicopter, one member of which had
apparently pulled a gun on Kent. For a bunch of corporate
lawyers, they seemed, at least to him, just a little too pure to
be believed.

Henderson fastened his seat belt and inserted his car key into
the ignition. As the engine kicked over with a sputter and then
began to purr, a familiar voice, with the strong accent
prevalent in Metropolis's Suicide Slum district, said, "The word
is you wanna know about 'The Mrs.', Inspector."

Henderson controlled his start of surprise with an effort and
raised his eyes to look into the rear-view mirror. The narrow
face of a middle-aged man looked smugly back at him. 

"Well, well -- Bobby Bigmouth, as I live and breathe," he said,
after a short pause. "How the devil did you get into my car?"

The individual in the back seat was long and lean, with the
faint impression of hunger about him, like a man who is
constantly on a diet. Henderson had occasionally had contact
with him, although he didn't know him well, but he knew of Bobby
Bigmouth's reputation as a reliable, if somewhat exasperating,
snitch, and he knew that Bobby's appetite was legendary among
Henderson's fellow officers.

"Trade secret," Bobby said. "I hear you're lookin' for
information about 'The Mrs.' I can help you, for the price of a
deli sandwich with all the trimmings. And a promise to keep my
name out of it."

"What are you up to?" Henderson inquired. "I've never known you
to look me up without a good reason."

"Hey," Bobby said. "A square meal is serious business -- but
actually I got another one. Let's just say I owe Lane a favor,
and I don't like bein' in debt -- okay?"

"All right," Henderson said. "One deli sandwich with all the
trimmings -- if the information's good. What have you got for
me?"

"From what I hear, there's a contract out on Lane -- Special
kind of contract. It's gotta look like an accident and only good
until the thirty day anniversary of Luthor's wedding. After
that, it's off. I'm guessing it's got something to do with
Luthor's will."

"We'd figured that," Henderson said.

"Yeah, well, maybe you don't know that The Mrs. has gotten into
the investigation herself. She's running Luthor's syndicate now.
She's even running the legit part of the business. All those
lawyers on the Board of Directors know they better toe the line
if they want to live. You're not gonna get any answers out of
them."

"That's interesting," Henderson said slowly. "What kind of hold
does she have over them?"

"Same as Luthor did -- good old fear. Blackmail material, not to
mention their lives. Nobody crossed Luthor and lived. Same here.
That plastic surgeon that turned up dead in the dumpster this
morning made the mistake of knowin' too much."

"What's he got to do with it? What did he know?"

"Let's say that if Lois Lane turns up in Metropolis
unexpectedly, you might want to compare her fingerprints to the
ones on file."

"How do you know I can?" Henderson inquired dryly.

Bobby just looked at him. "You're tellin' me you don't have
Lois's prints?" he inquired. "After the time you arrested her
for trespassin' on that rich guy's property five years ago?"

How the devil did Bobby know about that? Henderson wondered.
"The owner refused to press charges," he pointed out.

"So? That doesn't mean you tossed her prints," Bobby said.

"All right, supposing that's true," Henderson said, tacitly
conceding the point, "what can you tell me about the Mrs. that I
don't know?"

"Her and Luthor divorced about ten years ago," Bobby said.
"Rumor has it they were married on a cruise ship. She wants Lane
out of the picture for good and the word is she sent one of
Luthor's enforcers to Smallville to try to get Kent's location
out of his parents. I guess she figures that if they can get
their hands on Kent, he'll know where Lane is -- if she's not
with him." The snitch paused, probably for dramatic effect.

"You got a name?" Henderson asked, wondering absently how and
where Bobby came up with this information.

Bobby shook his head regretfully. "They just call her 'The
Mrs.', he said, "and the enforcer don't have a name that anybody
says out loud. He's one of their best, though -- after the way
the last ones screwed up. If I could put a name on either one, I
would."

"For dessert?" Henderson said dryly. "Anything else? The name of
the cruise ship would be handy."

Bobby managed to look wounded at the side comment, but he said,
"Nope. I'll tellya what, though. I'll do some snooping around
and see if I can come up with anything. If I find something else
out, you'll know, but I gotta be careful." He held out a hand.
"That's got to be worth that sandwich."

"Yeah." Henderson fished for his wallet and handed over a
twenty. "There you go. Buy what you want -- but if you find out
anything else, be damn sure you call me before you call anybody
else, got it?"

"You got it, Inspector. Just keep my name out of it." Bobby
opened the rear door and got out. Henderson shook his head
slowly as the nondescript figure of the snitch ambled
inconspicuously away. He'd get the discretionary fund to
reimburse him for Bobby's snitch fee, he thought. It was
interesting how Bobby had gotten into this thing without anyone
asking. Of course, there was the lure of the free meal but,
oddly enough, Henderson didn't think that had been the primary
motive. Lois Lane had the inexplicable ability to inspire plenty
of loyalty in her friends and acquaintances. Those that weren't
plotting to kill her, of course. They even did their best to
protect her from herself. Perry White, Kent and those two kids
had sure worked their butts off to keep her from marrying
Luthor. Superman apparently had been involved, too. It was too
bad they hadn't been a little bit faster. If they had, Lane
wouldn't have assassins after her. He gave a faint snort. She
wouldn't be Lois Lane if she wasn't in *some* sort of trouble,
he thought. He supposed he'd better get in contact with the
Smallville authorities and tell them that they had a
professional assassin heading their way. And he'd better warn
Kent, too. And then maybe Perry White could get the Olsen kid to
dig into Luthor's life, ten years back, and find out the name of
the ex-Mrs. Lex Luthor....

**********

"That wasn't so hard," Lois said, trying not to pant. She stood
back, surveying the tent that she and Clark had spent the last
hour setting up. She glanced at her watch. "It's four-fifteen.
What's next?"

"Now we can put on our swimsuits and go down to the lake," Clark
said. "There's still plenty of daylight left and it's just a
short walk."

"How short?" Lois asked.

"Five minutes tops. This spot used to be our favorite because it
was close to the lake."

"Don't we need to get out the supplies or something?"

Clark shook his head. "They're safe where they are. It'll keep
the squirrels out of the food. Did Mom get you anything to swim
in?"

"No," Lois said. "People might have wondered if your mom had
bought herself a bathing suit."

"Why?" Clark asked. "Mom swims when she comes here. Of course,
she usually uses scuba gear."

That figured. "Well, any scuba gear of your mom's would have
been too small for me. I figured I'd just use a pair of shorts
and a T-shirt. Will that do?"

"Sure," Clark said. "People swim in anything and everything
here. My favorite swimsuit when I was a kid was a pair of
cut-off jeans. Why don't I get the stuff and you can use the
tent to change."

Lois had wondered how they were going to manage that, or, now
that they were engaged, if Clark would expect her to behave
differently. Her farmboy from Krypton seemed to be letting her
decide where things were going to go and how far, and, to tell
the truth, she found that reassuring. Lex had definitely been
irked when she had expressed a desire to wait until their
wedding night, although he'd gone along with her wishes. If
Clark was disappointed, he wasn't letting on in any way.
Unexpectedly, she was a little let down by his behavior, but at
the same time it took off a good deal of the pressure. Clark
hadn't even raised the subject, so maybe he was waiting for her
to do so. She supposed that she should, sooner or later -- maybe
tonight, while they were cooking dinner, she thought. Just to
clarify things, so there wouldn't be any misunderstandings.

Clark had gone to the car and was unlocking the trunk. She'd
packed everything Martha had bought for her in a big plastic bag
in lieu of a suitcase, and so had Clark.

"My stuff's on the left side," she told him.

"Okay." Clark pulled out her bag. "Here you go."

Inside the tent, she made quick work of changing into the
outfit. Her bra could stand lake water, she thought, and she now
had four others as well, so this one could certainly be
sacrificed for swimming. She found the pair of black shorts that
Martha had picked up for her, and the plain blue T-shirt, and
changed her clothing.

Clark was waiting patiently when she emerged from the tent with
the beach towel that Martha had insisted on loaning her. "I'll
be right out," he said, and stepped inside the tent.

True to his word, he came out again only a couple of minutes
later, clad in a pair of tight cutoff jeans and minus his shirt.
Lois had seen him shirtless once before, when he had answered
the door of his hotel room wrapped in a towel, and she recalled
now that she had been very favorably impressed with his build.
She had seen him since, as Superman, in skin-tight blue spandex,
but without that thin barrier he seemed so much -- well, more.
She ran her gaze over the bare expanse of hairless chest and
flat middle, and found herself almost unable to look away. Well,
why not? she rationalized. She was engaged to marry him, after
all. Why shouldn't she look? He was certainly worth looking at.
Especially half dressed and wearing almost too-tight cut-offs.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Um...yes, fine." She forced her gaze higher and looked him in
the eyes. "Just, um...admiring the view."

To her surprise, he looked uncertain and reached for his own
towel. "Maybe I should have borrowed Dad's trunks," he said.
"These jeans seem to have shrunk a bit."

"They're fine," she assured him, resolutely not glancing at the
item of clothing in question. "Besides, if you'd worn your dad's
I might be getting a view of a lot more of you than you
wanted."

"Lo--is!" He sounded almost shocked, and her surprise turned to
amusement at the pink flush spreading up his neck.

She giggled. This was the man who flew around the skies of
Metropolis in a form-fitting, spandex suit? Talk about a split
personality! "Don't worry," she assured him, slipping her arm
through his, "so far I haven't seen anything not to like. Let's
go swimming."

**********

Rachel Harris was studying an FBI bulletin regarding a
kidnapping suspect who was believed to have crossed the
Kansas/Missouri border when the phone rang. Greg answered it.

"Smallville Sheriff's Office. This is Deputy Ross...Who?
Metropolis? What can I do for you, Inspector?" He listened for
several more seconds. "She's right here. Just a moment." He
covered the receiver. "It's an Inspector Henderson from
Metropolis, wanting to speak to you."

"Metropolis?" Rachel picked up her extension. "This is Sheriff
Harris."

Five minutes later, she put down the phone, scowling. Greg
looked at her, his eyebrows lifted. "What's wrong, Sheriff?"

"We may have a problem," Rachel said. "Clark and Mrs. Luthor --
Lois Lane, actually, since she didn't take Luthor's name -- are
at the Kent farm, hiding out from the media. Henderson knew it;
I guess Clark let him know where they were. He's found out that
there's a hit man headed for Smallville, who's after Ms. Lane."

Greg's eyebrows flew up. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Rachel said. "Ms. Lane inherits half of Luthor's estate
-- any part that they can't prove wasn't acquired legally.
Somebody in his organization doesn't want her to get the
money."

Greg frowned over that for a moment. "Yeah," he said. "I get it.
People get killed over twenty dollars. Luthor had billions.
Y'know, I don't think I'd want to be in her place. Wouldn't be
worth it."

"That's for sure," Rachel said. "I better call Martha."

**********

They emerged from the trees onto the flat beach of a lake. The
water looked clear and cool to Lois, who was frankly sweating in
the humid warmth of a typical Kansas summer afternoon. She wiped
perspiration from her upper lip. Clark, she noticed, didn't
appear to be in the least uncomfortable, but she didn't say
anything. If his powers didn't come back all the way, she didn't
want to get his hopes up but she was willing to bet that before
long they would be seeing Superman again.

"We can hang our towels on a tree limb," Clark suggested,
suiting the action to the word. "Too bad we don't have our old
motorboat and water skis. I used to be pretty good when I was a
kid."

"Yeah, Dad and Mother used to have a cabin on the beach in
Northern New Troy," Lois said. She hung her towel beside his and
removed her tennis shoes. "I was pretty good on skis, myself."

"We'll have to go somewhere on our honeymoon where we can ski,"
Clark said. "Have you thought about it?"

"Kind of," Lois admitted. "I'd love to go to Hawaii. I've been
to Oahu once for a journalism conference, but I pretty much
stayed in the hotel -- except for the luau we attended the last
evening."

"I've been there," Clark said. "The islands are beautiful. Maybe
we could go to one of the less-commercialized ones like Kauai or
Molokai. I'd enjoy showing you around."

"I've got some vacation money saved up," Lois said. "Maybe we
could get one of those cabins right on the beach -- you know,
with a ceiling fan and lots of privacy."

"I've saved some, too," Clark admitted. "Together, we should
have enough. If my --" he lowered his voice, "powers come back,
we wouldn't even have to take a plane."

"I guess you saved a lot of money traveling by doing that," Lois
said. "Before you came to work at the Planet?"

"Sometimes," Clark admitted. "One summer I worked my way as a
deck hand on a cargo ship, just to see what it was like. It was
sure different, but it turned out to be lucky for the ship."

"What happened?"

"Oh -- a grease fire broke out in the galley and got out of
control. Fortunately, I was able to put it out without anybody
realizing what happened."

"I guess you did things like that a lot while you were
traveling."

"Well, not a lot," Clark said, "but sometimes. I worked odd jobs
here and there, and freelanced a bit."

"Like with the Borneo Gazette?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "Anyway, after a couple of years, I got
tired of it and decided it was time to get on with my life. I'd
always wanted to work for a newspaper like the Planet, so I
decided to come back to the States and give it a try."

"Did you try any papers before the Planet?"

He shook his head. "No. First I decided to try for the one I
wanted to work for the most, so I came to Metropolis."

"Why the Planet? There's the New York Times and the Washington
Post --"

"Well, I'd seen the writing of this incredible journalist in the
Planet and it really impressed me."

"Who --" She broke off when she saw him smile. "*Me?*"

"Uh huh. And then, during my interview, you charged into Perry's
office like a one-woman tornado, and I was hooked. That's why I
came back with the story about the theater the next day. I
*really* wanted to be hired there after meeting you."

While they had been talking, they strolled down toward the
water. There was a weathered wooden pier jutting out into the
lake, and Clark led her toward that. "Watch out for splinters,"
he cautioned her. "There's a ladder at the end where we can
climb down into the water."

The ladder was still there, or perhaps it had been replaced with
a newer one, for the metal was suspiciously bright. Lois watched
as Clark descended and pushed away from the ladder, treading
water and waiting for her.

"How is it?" she asked.

"Nice," Clark said. "Come on in."

Considering that it was Clark who was telling her that the water
was great, she descended the ladder carefully, dipping a toe
into the lake before she completely took his word, but he was
right after all. The water was cool but not cold and after a
moment of initial adjustment, after the warmth of the air, Lois
pushed away from the ladder. The water felt like silk against
her skin as she glided forward.

"This is wonderful," Lois said. "And it looks like we have the
whole lake to ourselves."

"Pretty much," Clark agreed. "I see a guy in a rowboat over
there," he added, pointing, "but that's all."

"Where?" Lois asked, shading her eyes against the sun. "You mean
that little spot of red, way over near the other shore?"

"Yeah," Clark said after a moment.

"Your eyes are definitely better than mine," Lois said. "I'd
even say, they were super."

"Yeah...maybe," Clark said, and she could hear the hope in his
voice, even though he tried to hide it.

"Your powers are coming back, all right," Lois said. "Can you do
anything else?"

He closed his eyes and Lois held her breath, trying to tread
water quietly.

He opened them again. "I still can't fly," he said, and she
could feel the disappointment in his words.

"Yes, but you can see better than you could yesterday," Lois
said. "Remember what I said -- they seem to be getting better
gradually. Have you tried any of your other powers -- like, oh
-- X-ray vision, maybe?"

"No," Clark said. He looked down at the water and Lois saw him
squint. Another long silence. She was just about to speak when
he blinked several times and looked back at her. "It seems to
work." His voice was shaking slightly. "Maybe you're right."

"Betcha I am," Lois said. On impulse, she hit the lake's surface
with one hand, splashing water into his face and turned to flee
as fast as she could swim. "You're it!" she called.

Clark was after her instantly and she had barely gone ten feet
before he caught up with her and grabbed her by the wet material
of her T-shirt. "All right Ms. Lane, now you pay!"

She squealed, expecting to be ducked and trying to wiggle loose,
but instead he spun her around and she found herself being
thoroughly kissed. She ceased struggling instantly.

He lifted his head after several endless seconds and smiled down
at her. "You're no fun," he said teasingly. "You're supposed to
try to get away."

"Now that would be really stupid of me, wouldn't it," she said
breathlessly. "That's one super power you didn't lose."

"Oh?"

"Every time you've kissed me, you've taken my breath away," she
said.

"Hmm. Maybe I'll have to do it more often," he said.

"Believe me, Farmboy, if you don't, you're going to be in a lot
of trouble!"

"Hmm -- " Clark tilted his head and grinned. "Wouldn't want that
to happen," he remarked. 

The second kiss was longer than the first. When it ended, Clark
drew back a few inches and asked, "How was that?"

"Good," Lois told him, "but you need more practice."

"More?" Clark asked. "Are you by any chance taking advantage of
the situation, Ms. Lane?"

"Of course not," she assured him. "But we want to get it right.
This kind of thing shouldn't be rushed..."

**********

Perhaps an hour later, they walked, wrapped in towels and
dripping at every step, back toward their campsite.

"I'm starved," Lois said. "So, what are we having for dinner
tonight?"

"We'll have to see what Mom packed," Clark said. "Do you want to
make a campfire or use the camp stove?"

"What's a campout without a campfire?" she teased. "But we'd
probably be better cooking on the stove."

"Probably," Clark agreed. "Okay, I'll set up the stove while you
change into something dry."

"Don't you want to change?" she asked.

"After you're done," he said. He pushed aside a scratchy growth
of underbrush and they entered their clearing.

Lois occupied herself changing clothing and drying her hair as
well as she could, and, by the time she emerged from the tent,
Clark not only had a fire going, but the little camp stove was
sitting on the ground beside it and a frying pan perched atop it
was releasing delicious aromas. She was suddenly conscious of
the fact that she was famished.

"What's for dinner?" she asked.

"Well, I figured the frozen chicken breasts Mom put in the ice
chest were probably a good idea," Clark said, "with canned
vegetables. There's a nice bottle of Chablis in the chest, too.
Just the thing to go with chicken. And there's a bag of
marshmallows that we can toast in the fire for dessert."

Lois heard her stomach growl. "Sounds delicious."

"Of course, we'll have to drink the wine out of paper cups,"
Clark said.

"Fine with me," Lois said, thinking that if it were Lex, his
chef would have produced filet mignon with multiple side dishes
and fine wine, served on china and crystal. No doubt there would
have been some decadent dessert that was fairly unlikely to have
been cooked over an open fire, as well. Lex's idea of roughing
it was decidedly different than Clark's. This version of camping
was a lot more to her taste than Lex's, even if she could have
done without the mosquitoes that had made themselves evident in
the last hour.

"There's some citronella candles in the trunk," Clark said,
almost on cue. "Mom and Dad always brought a few when we camped
here, because of the mosquitoes. Here's the keys." 

Lois accepted the keys and went to retrieve the candles. At the
same time, she recalled the cellular phone that Martha had
loaned them. She'd left it in the car, figuring it would be safe
enough with the doors locked. Taking it to the lake hadn't
seemed a good idea. "I think I'll give Martha and Jonathan a
call and see if Maher turned up again," she said, setting the
candles down on the ice chest next to him.

"Good idea," Clark said.

But when she opened the car door to retrieve the cell phone, it
was nowhere to be found. She searched the glove compartment and
under the seats, and at last had to acknowledge defeat. The
phone wasn't there.

"I can't find it," she said, when she returned to the center of
the clearing.

"Maybe it fell off the seat," he said.

"That's what I thought, but I looked," she said. "I looked
everywhere I could think of. It's not there."

"Maybe you left it at the farm," Clark suggested.

"Maybe," Lois said. "I guess I must have, but I could have sworn
it was in the car."

"Did you check your purse?"

"Yes," she told him. "And I left my purse in the trunk before we
went swimming. I know you said there aren't many thieves around
here, but I didn't want to take chances.'

"It was probably a good idea," Clark said, peaceably. "Well, if
we need to call home, we can walk down to the restrooms. There's
a pay phone next to them. If you call, you can ask Mom to look
around and see if you left the phone there."

"I guess so," Lois said. "I was sure I brought it, but maybe
not."

"It would be easy to forget," Clark said. "If you intended to
put it in your purse and got distracted, you might have thought
you did."

"Yeah," Lois said. "Oh well, it's not a big deal. I'll call
after dinner."

"And in the meantime," Clark said, with his best French accent,
"if you'd take a seat on this fine fallen log that I just
happened to drag over here, I'll serve you your dinner."

********** 

Martha Kent raised her head at the sound of the knocker. A
glance out the kitchen window informed her that a sheriff's car
was parked in the area of packed dirt between the house and the
barn and she went into the living room to answer the knock, just
as it sounded again.

Rachel Harris, looking deceptively harmless even in the official
uniform she wore as the Sheriff, stood on the front porch.
Martha remembered Rachel from the time she had been barely more
than a baby, bouncing up and down in the stroller that her
mother pushed ahead of her as she walked down Smallville's Main
Street. The bright, active toddler had turned into a
no-less-enthusiastic schoolgirl, and then a high school
cheerleader with a starry-eyed crush on Clark when he had been
Captain of Smallville High's football team. She had turned that
zest for living into her passion as Smallville's new Sheriff
after her father's retirement and some months ago had proven her
competence in that office to Martha when she had saved Clark's
life from a rogue government agent, who had tried to shoot him
in the back.

"Hi, Rachel," she said. "Come in."

Rachel stepped into the living room of the farmhouse and Martha
closed the door. "What are you doing out here?" she asked. "Is
something wrong?"

"I had some information that Clark should know about," Rachel
said. "Is he here?"

"I'm afraid not," Martha said. "A reporter showed up sometime
around noon when Jonathan and I were out, looking for him and
Lois, so we persuaded them to disappear for a couple of days.
He's got my cell phone, though, if we need to get hold of him.
What's the matter?"

"I got a call from Metropolis," Rachel explained. "From an
Inspector Henderson. He seemed to know that Clark and Lois were
here."

Martha nodded. "Clark's mentioned him," she said. "He was the
one that arrested Lex Luthor at his wedding reception."

"Yeah, well --" Rachel hesitated for an instant. "I guess you
know what's happened since."

"Yes," Martha said. "Someone has an eye on Lois's share of
Luthor's estate."

"That's for sure," Rachel said. "Anyway, Henderson got a tip
that an enforcer for Luthor's criminal organization is headed
out here, to try to find out from you where Clark is."

Martha glanced out the window at the sight of her husband
crossing the cow pasture toward the house. "Jonathan will be
here in a minute. Can I get you some coffee?"

Rachel smiled a little. "Sure."

Martha went back to the kitchen for the promised coffee. When
she returned, Jonathan was just closing the living room door.

Rachel was still standing in the middle of the room. Martha
nodded to a chair. "Why don't you sit down and you can explain."
She handed her the cup and saucer. "Sugar?"

Slowly, Rachel sank into an armchair and set her cup and saucer
on the coffee table. Martha set down the coffee tray, took a
seat on the sofa and poured a cup for Jonathan while Rachel put
a teaspoon of sugar into her coffee and stirred.

"Now," Martha said, "what's this about an 'enforcer', did you
say?"

Jonathan was stirring cream and sugar into his coffee but at
Martha's words, he glanced sharply at her. "Enforcer?"

"Yes," Rachel said. "Inspector William Henderson, from
Metropolis, called my office this morning. He received a tip
from one of his informants that an enforcer for 'The Mrs.', who
appears to have taken over the organization, is on his way out
here to try to get Clark's location from you."

Jonathan looked at Martha. "Clark said anything might happen,"
he said. "I guess he was right."

"And we're not going to tell him," Martha said in her most
no-nonsense voice. "If we do, he's going to come rushing back
here to try to protect us, which isn't a good idea right now."

"Definitely not," Rachel said. "No offense, but Clark is a
reporter. I know he writes about big city crime all the time,
but he's not trained to deal with people like this. I still
shudder when I think how close he came to getting killed by
those crazy government types a few months ago. I don't want him
anywhere near the place."

Neither did Martha. Without his invulnerability, Clark was bound
to get himself hurt or killed trying to protect them. "What do
you think we should do?" she asked.

Rachel had obviously been thinking about that, for she replied
almost at once. "We could put you in hiding, but that's sort of
inconvenient, especially since you have the farm to take care
of, and you'd have to hide until the month is up," she said. "I
was wondering if you would mind if Greg Ross were to come stay
here for a little while -- kind of as a bodyguard."

Jonathan and Martha looked at each other for a long moment and
then Martha nodded. "That's a good idea. If there's a witness
around, he can't do anything violent. They want to kill Lois,
but it has to look like an accident."

"My thought exactly." Rachel finished her coffee. "I'll tell him
as soon as I get back to town. Expect him here this evening."

Martha finished her cup of coffee and set it down. "I'll make up
Clark's room for him," she said. "If Lois or Clark calls you,
you're not to tell them about this."

"I won't," Rachel said. She glanced at her watch and stood up.
"I need to get back. Thanks for the coffee," she added. "I wish
you were making coffee for the boys and me. The stuff at the
station is barely fit to drink."

"It's just coffee," Martha said. "Maybe it's your coffee
maker."

"Maybe." Rachel didn't sound convinced. "You two look out for
yourselves. I'll have Greg over here as soon as he can make it,
but when he shows up, be sure it's him."

"I know Greg," Martha said. "Clark and Pete were best friends,
remember. Greg used to tag after them a lot of the time when
they were kids."

"All right," Rachel said. 

When she had gone, Jonathan stood looking after the cloud of
dust that the Sheriff's squad car had left hanging in the air.
"An enforcer," he said slowly. "Whoever wants that money isn't
giving up, is she?"

"Not for that kind of money," Martha said. "Let's just hope she
doesn't figure out where Clark and Lois are."

"In the meantime," Jonathan said, "I guess we've got a few
preparations to make. We'd better get busy."

**********

The setting sun was hidden behind the trees and the sky overhead
had turned a deep purple when Lois and Clark walked slowly down
a narrow trail toward the campground's convenience station --
restrooms, showers, telephones and other sundry items that Lois
had always regarded as necessities of life before the last few
days in the mountains. Clark carried a flashlight with which he
illuminated the path ahead of them, since the sunlight was
dimming rapidly.

"Watch your step," Clark said, as they descended five wooden
steps, apparently installed on a short, steep section of the
trail for the convenience of the campers. "Looks like one of the
boards is coming loose."

Lois carefully negotiated the loose board. After their trek
through the mountains, such minor inconveniences were nothing.
She and Clark had encountered far worse on that trip, and yet
now she had begun to look on it as the happiest part of her
recent life. How could she ever have believed that she could be
happy with Lex? Even if he had been the pillar of the community
that he had pretended to be, she wouldn't have been happy with
him. Looking back, with the twenty/twenty vision of hindsight,
it was so completely obvious that her future happiness lay with
the man who walked beside her now, one hand clasping hers, that
she couldn't believe how blind she had been. Clark had come to
be her best friend over the last year, and had gradually and
unobtrusively worked his way into her heart, accomplishing it so
quietly that looking back she couldn't pinpoint the time that
she had begun to love him. She had fallen in love with Superman
during their first, short meeting, but with Clark it had taken
time -- time for her to notice him, and much more time for her
to realize that somewhere along the way friendship had turned
into something far deeper.

That time when Miranda had sprayed the newsroom with her
pheromone should have told her how dangerous Clark was, she
thought, but typically, she had rationalized the whole thing
away so she wouldn't have to deal with her growing feelings for
him. How much easier it would have been if she'd just gone with
the flow, as Lucy phrased it. Or maybe not. Her sister went with
the flow all the time and her success with close relationships
was as bad as Lois's had been before Clark. Lucy, like Lois, had
learned that men couldn't be trusted, and as a result, she chose
men who were losers in one way or another. Lois hoped that one
day Lucy would find someone who could show her that not all men
were like their father -- that there were some who didn't walk
away when the going got rough -- although she would never wish
anything like what had happened to her on her sister. Surely
there were easier ways to learn a lesson, but of course she was
Mad Dog Lane. She never did things the easy way.

"Are you all right?" Clark asked.

"Huh? Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You looked a little sad," Clark said. "Is anything wrong?"

"No," Lois said. Impulsively, she raised their clasped hands and
kissed the back of his. "I was just hoping that Lucy is as lucky
someday as I've been."

"Lucy? You mean your sister?"

Lois nodded. "I was just thinking about her. She has this
tendency to pick losers -- just like I did. She just chooses
them from a different social stratum. I agreed to marry Lex and
she takes up with illiterate goons. Same result."

"That's too bad," Clark said. "I saw Lucy once, not long after I
came to the Planet. She's a beautiful, intelligent girl - just
like her sister. She deserves better."

"I think both of us got the feeling that we weren't worth much
in our parents' estimation," Lois said slowly. "Daddy wanted
boys, not girls, and he didn't try very hard to hide it. Nothing
I did was ever quite good enough." She slapped absently at a
mosquito. "Mother spent most of the time after Daddy left drunk
out of her mind. The court ordered her into rehab when I was
fifteen and Lucy and I had to move in with Daddy, but nothing
much changed. Daddy didn't spend his day getting drunk but he
was too busy to pay much attention to us. I basically raised
Lucy. Somebody had to do it, and Mother and Daddy were pretty
much AWOL. That kind of thing doesn't make you feel very good
about yourself -- that your parents didn't think enough of you
to bother with you. And then, when I was a senior in high
school, Daddy and I had a tremendous fight and I moved out."

"What was it about?" Clark asked. He reached out absently to
push a hanging creeper out of her way. Lois hadn't even noticed
it in the gathering gloom but Clark seemed to have little
difficulty seeing.

"He wanted me to go into medical school and I wanted to be a
journalist. He threatened not to help me pay for college if I
didn't go into medicine." She shrugged. "I was eighteen, so I
moved back in with Mother while I applied for scholarships and
funding of one sort or another, and then I moved into the dorm
at New Troy State. Somewhere around my junior year, Daddy must
have realized that I was going to be a journalist no matter what
kind of pressure he brought, and he helped me pay for the rest
of my education, but it wasn't the best part of my life."

"I can't understand why parents would try to force their child
into a career she doesn't want," Clark said. "Dad wanted me to
study agriculture and animal husbandry at Midwestern U so I
could take over the farm someday, but when I told him I wanted
to go into journalism he didn't try to change my mind. He wanted
what was best for me."

"That's about it," Lois said. "Daddy wanted me to do what he
thought was best -- and naturally what *I* wanted wasn't
relevant. Anyway, you can probably understand now why Daddy and
I were so uncomfortable with each other when you met him. I know
you didn't at the time."

"Yeah," Clark said. He squeezed her hand. "It must have been
rough."

"Sort of." She shook her head. "Anyway, I guess that's why I
have trust issues with men. Or at least part of the reason. When
I was a little girl, I kept dreaming about a Prince Charming who
would come along, see something in me that no one else saw and
sweep me off my feet, but after I grew up the couple of times I
thought I'd found him it turned into a disaster. I told you
about Paul, in college, and then Claude --" She stopped,
wondering if it was a good idea to remind Clark of her history.
"Anyway, I think that was probably why I wouldn't let myself
think of you as a romantic interest. I think I chose Superman
because deep down I knew he was out of reach. He was safe to
love because nothing could ever come of it. Then I figured
marrying Lex would be safe, because I didn't love him. It was
only after it was done that it finally hit me what an awful
mistake I'd made." She sighed. "I should have known better. You
offered me everything I'd ever wanted and I was too scared to
see it. I jumped in without checking the water level again --
and if it hadn't been for you and Perry, and the others, I'd
have been trapped."

Clark put an arm around her waist, guiding her through an
overgrown section of the path. "I'm no Prince Charming either,
you know," he said with a trace of apology in his voice. "I wish
I were. Superman is as fallible as anyone else."

"You don't have to be perfect," Lois said. "You're my best
friend. You've seen me at my worst and it didn't scare you away.
I don't have to be on my best behavior for you, and you don't
have to be for me. Best friends don't have to worry about those
things." She hesitated. "We're still best friends, aren't we?
Even though we're engaged?"

"You'll always be my best friend," Clark said. "My mom and dad
are. Best friends, that is. When Dad is upset or worried, the
first person he talks to is Mom, and Mom is the same. It really
surprised me when I realized it wasn't that way with all married
couples."

"I wish I'd had your parents," Lois said, a little wistfully.
"From everything you've said about them -- and from what I've
seen -- they made their marriage look like fun, and raised you
to be the kind of person who could be Superman. My parents
raised me to be a neurotic compulsive overachiever who doesn't
have the courage to admit it when I'm wrong. It gets me in
trouble, sometimes."

"Yeah, I'd noticed," Clark said dryly. "Still, I'd rather it was
me rushing to the rescue than some guy on a white charger. I
stand a better chance of succeeding. Or I did."

"I think you will again," Lois said. "Not that I'm looking
forward to needing to be rescued, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Clark said. He stopped and turned to face her. His
expression was hard to see in the gloom, but she didn't need to
see it. His voice told her everything she needed to know. "I
can't promise never to hurt you or disappoint you. I wish I
could. I'm bound to make mistakes, but I'll never do it on
purpose, I swear." He raised a hand to cup her cheek. "I love
you."

Unexpectedly she felt her eyes stinging with tears. "I know,"
she said. "I just hope you know what you're getting into. I'm
not the easiest person to live with."

"I can take it," he said, and there was a smile in his voice. "I
figure it'll be worth it -- especially since I decided months
ago that it was you or no one."

There didn't seem to be any answer to that, which was fortunate.
His lips descended on hers, and she found herself the recipient
of another of those breathtaking kisses. 

When he finally let her go, she followed him with unaccustomed
docility along the remainder of the path. The woods opened up
suddenly into an illuminated clearing. A wood-frame building
dominated the center of it, and along one side was a row of pay
phones. Arrows directed newcomers to the showers and restrooms
and a rustic sign tacked to the side of the building welcomed
visitors to the campground's Convenience Center.

The sun had completely set but the clearing was illuminated by
several floodlights placed high on rough, wooden poles. Several
people in shorts and T-shirts suitable for the warm, Kansas
summer night were wandering around the area or loitering here
and there, obviously waiting for other members of their party.

Lois made a beeline for the ladies shower and restroom. There
were several women and girls there, and she had to wait for the
opportunity to use one of the four showers. While she waited,
she observed the other campers standing in the short line. Most
were women with children, ranging in age from barely more than
toddlers to girls in their teens. One girl of about seven or
eight seemed to be by herself, several places ahead of Lois. At
least, she didn't appear to belong to the woman in front of her
who was escorting twin girls of about three, or the group behind
her which consisted of a woman who looked as if she were in her
early to mid-forties and three girls that were probably her
daughters, ranging from one of about six or seven to one
obviously in her mid-teens. Lois might have thought that the
girl belonged with them but for the fact that mother and
daughters were alike blond and blue-eyed and the lone child was
very definitely a brunette with brown eyes and a flock of
freckles. She looked nothing like them, and was dressed in a
pair of tattered blue shorts and a stained T-shirt, while the
other girls wore swimming suits.

Normally, Lois would have paid no attention to the child, but
the fact that she was so obviously alone in the crowd seemed
odd. Still, it was probably nothing, she thought. The girl most
likely had parents waiting outside, and she was probably old
enough to be trusted in here by herself, considering how many
other people were around.

Lois couldn't quite dismiss the girl from her thoughts, however.
Something that she couldn't even identify nagged at her. After
about a five-minute wait, the child disappeared through the door
to the dressing rooms, and a moment later the blond mother sent
her oldest daughter in with the admonition to "make it quick".

A few minutes later the unaccompanied girl emerged silently from
her dressing cubicle as Lois was waiting to enter the room. She
didn't glance at Lois as she squeezed past.

Lois had intended to take a long, leisurely shower, but she
found herself hurrying. In what was certainly record time for
her, she shed her clothing, showered quickly and returned to
dress, all in the space of seven minutes by actual count.
Emerging into the main body of the ladies room, she saw that the
girl had vanished and made her way hurriedly to the door, unable
to explain her sense of urgency even to herself.

Clark was leaning casually against the wall just outside the
door when she emerged. He straightened up, smiling at her. "That
was fast." His smile faded as she looked quickly around. "What's
the matter?"

"Did you see a little girl come out alone a few minutes ago --
maybe eight years old, brown curly hair, brown eyes -- wearing
shorts and a T-shirt?"

Clark frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe. Were the shorts blue?"

Lois nodded. "Did you see if anyone was waiting for her?"

"I wasn't paying much attention," Clark said. He continued to
frown, obviously prodding his memory. "Yeah, there was."

"Oh." Lois drew a relieved breath. "I guess it's okay, then. Who
was it?"

"A guy -- I guess it was probably her grandfather."

"Her grandfather?"

"Uh huh. He looked like he was maybe about fifty. Tall guy, some
grey in his hair, thinning a little at the temples. Why?"

That photographic memory again, Lois thought. Clark's incredible
memory definitely gave him an advantage over the average
newsman. "I don't know, really. She was in the ladies room
alone. She looked kind of -- oh, I don't know -- a little
scared, maybe. I wondered if anything was wrong."

"Well, she went with the guy. I thought maybe she was just
tired, but now that you mention it --" He paused.

"What?"

"Well -- she kind of hung back, but she didn't do anything to
attract attention."

Lois bit her lip. "It's probably okay," she ventured.

"Yeah, probably." They looked at each other. "But now that
you've brought it up, neither of us is going to get a wink of
sleep until we know for sure. Right?"

"You took the words right out of my mouth, partner," Lois said.
"Let's go see if we can find out."

**********

Martha was pouring dishwashing detergent into her dishwasher
when there was a brisk knock on the door. A glance out the
kitchen window showed that the battered pickup truck that she
recognized as belonging to the Ross family was now parked in the
open space next to the hen house. Greg Ross, the younger brother
of Clark's best friend during his high school days, had
arrived.

Greg Ross was between three and four years younger than Clark,
and certainly seemed too young to be a deputy sheriff, Martha
thought as she opened the door. He resembled his older brother a
good deal although his hair was more red than light brown and he
displayed considerably more freckles than Pete ever had. He was
dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt and didn't look anything
like an officer of the law. Martha guessed that Rachel had
directed him to blend in, instead of allowing strangers to
realize that there was a sheriff's deputy on the premises.

"Come in, Greg," Martha said, opening the door wider. "I guess
Rachel told you you're on babysitting detail for a few days." 

To her surprise, Greg blushed up to his hairline and shook his
head vigorously. "It's nothing like that," he said quickly. "You
and Mr. Kent could probably handle some city slicker bad guy
without much trouble but Sheriff Harris wants to be sure
somebody's here to help, just in case." He looked around the
living room as he stepped inside. "I guess you got a new rug
since Clark left home," he said. "I remember you had this brown
one that was all different shades."

"That was to disguise the dirt you kids tracked in all the
time," Martha said. "I figure you've probably grown out of that
stage -- finally."

"Kind of," Greg said. "Is Mr. Kent around?"

"Jonathan's outside, finishing the chores," Martha said. She
glanced at Sport, the dog that had adopted them last year. He
had followed Greg into the house and was sniffing at the backs
of his legs. "It's a good thing he catches rats. He's useless as
a watchdog. Out, Sport," she commanded, holding the door open
for the animal.

Sport obeyed, ran down the steps and vanished into the barn.
Martha turned to Greg. "Have you had dinner yet?"

"Huh?" The deputy looked blank for a moment. "Oh, yeah. I picked
up a sandwich at Maisie's, around four."

"Then it's been nearly four hours since you've eaten," Martha
said. "Come on into the kitchen and have some coffee and pie."
She led the way as she spoke. "How's Pete doing these days?" she
asked. "We never hear from him since he got the job at the state
capital."

"He's on Senator Benson's staff," Greg said. "He says that our
local assemblyman's talking about retiring instead of running
for re-election. Pete's thinking about running for the seat."

"Really?" Martha opened the refrigerator to remove the apple
pie. "I guess he's doing pretty well then." She located a pie
plate, sliced off a generous serving of pie and set it before
the deputy, following it a moment later with a cup of coffee.
"Here you go."

"Thanks," Greg said. He inhaled the aroma of the coffee. "Rachel
said your coffee was going to spoil me for the office stuff if
I'm here for a couple of days," he added. "It sure smells
good."

"It sounds like your coffee maker needs to be cleaned," Martha
said. "Or maybe you should adjust your timer settings. I don't
do anything different than most people when they make coffee."

"Mom used to say that making coffee was an art, and that some
people had the knack while others never learned it," Greg said.
"I'll bet that you could even force our cranky old coffee
machine to make decent coffee." He sipped the brew with deep
appreciation.

Martha busied herself with loading the remainder of the dishes
into the dishwasher. As Greg finished the cup of coffee, the
front door opened and closed and a moment later, Jonathan Kent
entered the kitchen. "Are we having more pie? I could use a
slice before bedtime."

"I thought you might," Martha said. She set a second plate of
pie on the table. "You get a smaller piece," she informed her
husband. "I've been counting your calories for the day."

Jonathan glanced at Greg and patted his stomach. "Just my luck.
She cooks like that and then complains when I eat it."

Greg grinned. "Tough luck," he remarked. "So who's the guy that
showed up this afternoon?"

"Clark said he called himself Maher," Jonathan said. "Ben Maher
from the Topeka Intelligencer."

"The Intelligencer, huh?" Greg took a last bite of pie. "That
was terrific pie," he told Martha. "Did you see their interview
with Elvis yesterday?" He grinned. "Rachel -- I mean Sheriff
Harris brought it in for us to read at lunch. They're probably
channeling the ghost of Luthor now and we'll get the story in a
few days. Maybe they want to get Ms. Lane's input."

Martha snorted. "Probably. Or maybe they're getting a viewpoint
from their Martian contacts."

"Or the mole men," Jonathan put in, brightly. "Can't forget
them."

Martha shook her head in amusement. "At least no one from any of
the other papers has found us so far."

"That's good." Greg handed his pie plate and fork to Martha.
"With luck, nobody else will show up and this big time enforcer
will turn out to be a dud, too. If we're all real lucky, some
other big news story will crowd the Luthor story onto the back
page. In the meantime, though, if somebody you don't know *does*
drive up, don't go out there without me. All right?"

Martha and Jonathan nodded.

"Good." Greg pointed at the small TV set that Martha kept in the
corner of her kitchen counter. "There's all kinds of creeps
running around these days. We were put on alert this morning for
that guy."

Martha turned to look at the picture of a man of about fifty
glaring at the camera from a police photo. "I've seen a couple
of reports about him today," she said.

Jonathan looked questioningly at Greg. "Nasty looking customer,"
he remarked. "What did he do?"

Jonathan had been working outside, Martha thought. The radio
they kept in the barn had quit a week ago and she hadn't found
time to replace the batteries, so Jonathan wouldn't have heard
anything about it.

"Guy's a child predator that finished up his sentence a few
weeks ago in Missouri," Greg told him. "There were all kinds of
protests from his hometown about letting him out -- except his
dad, who says he was wrongfully convicted -- but the courts
didn't have a choice. Anyway, they think he snatched a kid off
the street on her way home from school. He might be headed this
way. Kansas law enforcement's watching for him."

Martha shuddered.

**********

Rachel Harris glanced at the little thirteen-inch television set
that sat on a shelf near the rear of the Sheriff's office. The
LNN News-at-Eight Hour was on and she listened to it with half
her attention. The newscaster was reporting on the kidnapping in
Missouri where Bethany Ann Gordon had been snatched two days ago
while walking home from school. The police were searching
frantically for her and for the man believed to have kidnapped
her -- a violent sex offender who had been released from prison
three weeks before. David Waters had been seen in the area at
about the time of Bethany's kidnapping and the description given
by her six-year-old brother matched. There was an interstate
alert for the fugitive and the little girl, and Bethany's mother
had been shown repeating her tearful plea for her daughter's
return. Rachel shook her head. If Waters had really taken the
child, the family's pleas wouldn't make an impression on him.
Rachel knew his type -- a sociopath who couldn't have cared less
about the pain that he was inflicting on others. If anything, he
would probably enjoy it. For perhaps the fiftieth time, she
studied the flyer that had come in this morning about the case.
Various tips now led the police to believe that the pair had
crossed the Kansas state line and the search was spreading
across the area. As if she didn't have enough to handle, this
had to happen just now. Still, she hoped that someone would spot
the guy and call the cops before it was too late. The news
program had found an expert on the subject who had warned that
it was just a matter of time before Waters killed one of his
victims. Rachel very much feared that this might be the time. If
he turned out to be their man, he certainly must know what it
would mean for him if he were convicted again.

Almost on the thought, the phone rang. Rachel's heart jumped at
the suddenness and she made herself draw a deep breath before
picking up the receiver on the second ring. "Sheriff's office.
This is Sheriff Harris," she said, making her voice calm and
steady mostly through force of will.

"Oh, thank heavens!" The feminine voice on the other end of the
line sounded as if its owner were on the edge of hysterics. "I
think he's dead!"

"Hold it," Rachel said. "First tell me who you are."

"This is Maisie Allen, over at Maisie's Diner. I just stepped
out in back to dump the trash and there's a guy lying behind the
dumpster. I don't think he's breathing!"

"Did you call 911?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, but I think he's dead! There's blood all over his shirt
and --"

"I'll be right there," Rachel interrupted. "Don't touch
anything."

**********

Smallville's only paramedic van had arrived almost at the same
time as Rachel. It pulled into the narrow alley right behind her
squad car. Rachel stopped as close to the dumpster as she could
reasonably manage in order to give the paramedics room and set
the brake, leaving the headlights on for visibility.

Maisie was standing in the alley -- or perhaps standing wasn't
exactly the word. She was leaning against the wall and looking
ready to either faint or throw up when Rachel got out of the car
and approached. She looked the older woman over with a critical
eye and made a decision.

"Maisie, go inside and sit down," she directed. "You can't do
anything here. Get yourself some coffee or something. I'll be in
to talk to you in a few minutes."

Maisie gulped and nodded, rolling an eye in the direction of the
body, and obeyed without a word. Rachel turned toward the man on
the ground.

The situation was much as Maisie had described it. The victim
was almost certainly dead. He was lying face up and his shirt
was rent in three places, and covered with dried blood. Stabbed,
Rachel thought, shining her flashlight on his face.

It was no one she knew, she realized with a trace of relief, for
which she mentally chastised herself. It was still most likely a
homicide and probably some time ago -- perhaps several hours.

The paramedics were kneeling by the body and the taller one
glanced up at her, shaking his head. "Guy's been dead for
hours," he said. "Looks like somebody stabbed him." Harry Talbot
was from Rachel's graduating class at Smallville High and, in
the illumination of the headlights from Rachel's car and the
van, his complexion had taken on a greenish tinge. "Guess we'll
be taking this one to the Coroner."

"Any ID?" Rachel asked. She went to her car and removed the
camera that she kept in the trunk for situations like this. This
would be its inaugural use in such a situation.

"Doesn't look like it. Could be one of those reporters that have
been looking for the Kents. Maybe somebody at the motor court
knows who he is."

"I'm sure they're going to love being called in for an
identification," Rachel said dryly, but her mind was working
rapidly. Police Inspector Henderson, from Metropolis, had told
her that an enforcer from the criminal organization formerly run
by Lex Luthor was headed for Smallville. Could it possibly be
connected with this?

Sure it could, she was telling herself ten minutes later as she
watched the paramedics loading the unidentified man into their
van. There hadn't been a murder in Smallville in nearly ten
years. And now, right after Clark showed up with Lois Lane, who
was apparently the target of unnamed criminals from the city, an
out-of-towner was found dead behind Maisie's Diner. It might be
a coincidence but she was inclined to think it wasn't. 

Rachel walked to her car and reached for the radio. Greg was at
the Kent farm but she had three other deputies available who
weren't going to like being called away from their homes at this
hour. Which was too bad, but nobody had ever said this job was
only about catching the occasional sneak thief or issuing
citations to someone who parked in the handicapped zone at
Lang's Emporium. This time they were going to have to earn their
pay. And it looked like it was time to call in the forensics
team from Wichita. Big city crime had definitely come to
Smallville.

**********

"He headed up the same path we came down," Clark said, keeping
his voice low. "There are branches to three other campsites from
it besides ours. How do you want to work this?"

"How is your hearing coming along?" Lois's voice was softer than
his, but he could hear her without difficulty.

"It's better than yesterday but it isn't back to normal," Clark
answered. "The trouble is that I don't seem to have full control
of it. It happened the same way back when I was first getting my
powers."

"What do you mean?"

"It just started this afternoon. We'll be talking and all of a
sudden the super hearing kicks in and it's like I'm in a crowd
with everyone screaming at the top of his lungs," Clark said. "I
can get it under control but it takes a second or two."

"Oh. How about your eyesight?"

"I can see in the dark fine," Clark told her. "And my telescopic
vision is better than it was yesterday. My X-ray vision is
partly back. I could see the bottom of the lake this afternoon
without any trouble." He paused. Should he tell her? Instantly
he made up his mind. No more keeping things from Lois. He'd
promised himself that while they were still lost in the
mountains. "There's one thing, though."

"What?"

He hesitated and then plunged ahead. "A couple of times in the
last couple of hours it's cut in when I wasn't trying, the same
way my hearing does."

"Is it a problem?" she asked quickly.

"Not exactly." He hesitated. "Uh - while I was waiting for you
outside the ladies room was the second time it did it. It was a
little embarrassing."

Lois grinned. "I guess Superman's crack about the lead-lined
robe was a bluff, huh?"

Clark could feel himself blushing. "Yeah. I was kind of upset.
I'm really sorry about what I said. If I'd been a little more
rational about the whole thing, we might have avoided what came
afterwards."

"True," Lois agreed, "but then some of the other things wouldn't
have happened either. You'd probably have your powers, but I
wouldn't know the truth about you and who knows what Lex would
have done when I turned him down. He'd still have the Kryptonite
cage, too, and he'd be more determined than ever to kill
Superman." She stopped in the middle of the path and turned to
face him. "You said we weren't going to rehash all the mistakes
we made, remember? You blew it but so did I, and there's no way
to know how things would have worked out if we'd done things
differently. Given that, I'm glad that we're here, even with
everything that's happened. I've finally figured out who I
really love and you're with me, alive and safe. That's worth
everything we went through -- at least to me."

"It's worth it to me, too," Clark said. "You're right. I'll try
to quit kicking myself if you'll do the same." He smiled at her
in the darkness. "I know how you've been blaming yourself for
what happened. Can we just stop trying to assign blame? We both
made some mistakes but we don't have to keep dwelling on them."

Lois hesitated and then lifted her chin. "You're right."

"I am?" he said. It wasn't like Lois to give in on any
argument.

"Yes, you are. We've got more important things to do than sit
around and blame ourselves for things that can't be changed. The
thing that I'm wondering about is that you say these things --
your powers cutting in unexpectedly -- happened when you were
first getting them, too. I think that means they're really
starting to come back now."

He'd heard that changing the subject was a feminine trait, but
Lois definitely raised the talent to a new high, Clark thought.
He blinked at her for a second. "I never thought of that. I
guess I'll have to be ready for the others to start kicking in
unexpectedly, too."

"Exactly," Lois said. "Now, back to the plan. We're going to
find where the guy and the little girl are camping and you're
going to use your powers to eavesdrop. Then, when we find out
what's going on we'll decide what else we need to do. If
anything."

As a plan, it left a good deal up in the air but Clark had to
agree that it made sense. "Okay. Come on."

**********

It was almost an hour later that they approached the last of the
camping spots connected by the narrow trail. The first campsite
had been occupied by a noisy family of two adults and five
children, all under thirteen, and a large hairy beast that was,
theoretically at least, a dog. It had barked noisily at them and
Clark had apologized profusely, explaining that they must have
taken the wrong branch from the trail.

The second spot had held a small camper and Clark had pulled
Lois away quickly. The two persons inside were newlyweds, he'd
explained briefly, and were busy getting better acquainted. It
had taken Lois a moment to decipher his code and then she had
laughed.

But this campsite held another small camper, a battered one that
had seen better days. The little girl was nowhere to be seen but
a tall man was sitting on a log in front of a campfire, while an
iron skillet that was perched precariously over the flames
sizzled loudly and gave off the scent of frying bacon. As they
watched, he leaned forward to break an egg into the pan.

Lois put her lips against Clark's ear. "Well?" she whispered.
She kept her voice low, trusting that the warm breeze that was
rustling the shrubbery and brushing her face and the sounds of
the night insects would muffle her whisper.

Clark lowered his glasses, squinting at the camper.

"She's in the camper," he said after a moment. "Alone."

"What's she doing?"

"Just sitting on the bench