The Girl Next Door
By Janet Owens (aka TicAndToc) <ticandtoc@earthlink.net>
Rated PG
Submitted June 2008
(Copyright 11/2005)


-----
Many, many, *many* thanks go to LabRat for her extremely fast
beta reading of this story despite a thousand-plus other things
she already had to do. And for her enthusiastic and encouraging
comments. I swear when I started it that I had *no* idea how long
it would turn out to be. Nor, I imagine, did LabRat <g>.

My thanks, also, to Wendy for her encouragement -- and her
insistence that I should be writing fanfic in the first place.
And to the members of the message boards at
http://www.lcficmbs.com for their helpful answers to my
questions, and their enthusiastic, flattering, and
thought-provoking comments -- several of which helped me improve
this story.

My sincere thanks, also, to ML Thompson -- while reading one of
her stories, I was reminded of a certain plot device, which I
promptly borrowed to wrap up a loose end in my own story. The
specifics -- which story and which plot device -- are detailed in
the Author's Notes at the end of this story.

The haircut in this story is dedicated to Tank.

The characters in this story do not belong to me. All rights
belong to DC Comics and Warner Brothers. I don't actually have
permission to borrow them, either. But no copyright infringement
is intended and this story is strictly for entertainment
purposes, not for profit.

Last, but by no means least, my sincere thanks to Tricia for her
quick turn-around time GE'ing this story, and particularly for
her cheerful patience while I took forever (3-plus months, I
think) to get it back to her.



--------------- The Girl Next Door --------------

Lois Lane had a secret.

A whopper of a secret, one she'd spent most of her lifetime
keeping.

It wasn't actually too hard to keep, either, but for that she
probably had Mad Dog Lane to thank.

-----

Lois Lane was good at secrets.

She was the top investigative reporter for the Daily Planet, the
world's largest and most widely read newspaper. She had climbed
to the top of her profession through a mixture of ability, luck,
and sheer gritty determination.

Lots of natural ability. She'd always had a knack for turning
mere words into powerful tools. Powerful weapons, and powerful
forces for change. For making things right.

A small amount of luck. She'd grown up in Metropolis, had
attended Metropolis University and earned a journalism degree,
and had been lucky to land a summer internship at the Daily
Planet. It had given her an advantage when she'd graduated and
applied for a reporting job at the paper.

Lots of determination. Although many people would probably call
it sheer pig-headed stubbornness. Whatever. It had worked.

But she'd also earned a title. Mad Dog Lane. She was actually
kind of proud of it, although she never let on that she was
affected by it when she overheard it.

At twenty-six years old, she was hugely successful, had several
awards for outstanding journalism under her belt, and had been
blessed with above-average looks in addition to her
intelligence.

But she was also alone.

It was her choice. She'd had to fend for herself from an early
age, and it had colored her adult life. She stood alone. She
didn't need anyone. She wasn't interested in a relationship, and
was accomplished at getting that message across to any man who
dared step out of line.

She didn't need friends.

It was that prickly independence, the walls she'd erected around
herself that had created the Mad Dog title. Her coworkers thought
she was cold and unfeeling, standoffish. That was fine with her.
They left her alone to do her job, and that was what she wanted.

It was what was safest.

It guaranteed that her secret stayed that way. Secret.

-----

Lois's earliest memories were bittersweet. She remembered Mama,
but the glorious full colors of that time when she'd been the
happiest had faded into pale watercolor hues. Always beautiful,
but muted with time.

Mama had died when Lois was six. Mama had always been frail and
ill, but it hadn't stopped her from surrounding Lois with love
and laughter and hugs, fairy tales and kisses and short little
outings to their favorite park.

Most of what Lois remembered was in short little snippets, like
little video clips designed to tease viewers into seeing the
whole movie.

-----

"Mama, will you read to me?" Lois asked, climbing carefully into
the chair where Mama was sitting. Mama bruised easily, so Lois
always made sure she snuggled under Mama's arm instead of sitting
in her lap, and she always made sure her shoes were off before
she climbed up into the chair.

"Which story will it be, sweetie?" Mama asked. She smiled her
lovely warm smile, which lit up her pale and thin face,
transforming it into the face Lois imagined her guardian angel
must have.

"The one about Princess Elizabeth, who goes out and fights the
dragon and saves the prince, even though he's a real stinker,"
Lois said. It was her favorite story. Mama had told her the story
for as long as she could remember, and had given her the book
when Lois turned four.

Princess Elizabeth was smart, and tough, and she knew how to do
the right thing. When the prince wouldn't fight the dragon, the
princess did it herself. And she didn't even have dragon-fighting
clothes on.

That was the kind of princess Lois would be, Mama always told
her. She wouldn't sit around waiting for some prince to do the
right thing; she'd do it herself.

-----

Lois was kind of scared. Her eyes were doing funny things
sometimes. Rubbing them didn't help.

"Is it happening again, sweetie?' Mama asked.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, helping Lois color the
pictures in her coloring book. Mama would color a picture, and
Lois would color a picture, and then they would hang them on the
refrigerator. Lois always picked the Snoopy magnet, and Mama
always picked the Woodstock magnet. Mama called the refrigerator
their art gallery, which Lois thought was funny. A refrigerator
was a refrigerator.

Mama would tell Lois that if a refrigerator could also be an art
gallery, a little girl could also be anything she wanted to be,
when she grew up.

Lois had stopped coloring and was pushing at the wood of the
table with her pointing finger. The wood looked mushy, but it
didn't feel mushy. It felt like a table.

"Mama, can a table also be a window?" Lois asked. "Because I can
kind of see the floor through it."

Mama's thin and tired face creased into a frown, but Lois knew
Mama wasn't mad. Mama was trying to figure things out. That was
how Lois looked when she stood in front of the bathroom mirror
and tried to figure things out. It was just a figure-out face,
not a mad face.

"I think it's one of those special things about you, Lois," Mama
said. "It's like Princess Elizabeth. She was smart and beautiful,
and special, too."

"But *she* didn't have see-through eyes, Mama," Lois said.

"But she *was* born special, Lois, just like you," Mama said,
smiling her angel smile. "She was the only one like her, and
you're the only one like you. And she did good things. Just like
you would do, if you were Princess Elizabeth."

She frowned her figure-out frown again.

"But remember, sweetie, you can't tell *anybody* about your
special eyes, okay? Princess Elizabeth had a secret weapon, her
brain. She didn't tell the dragon what she was going to do. You
can't tell any dragons, either. Can you remember that?" Mama
asked. "Some dragons look like people, so don't tell *anyone*.
That way no dragons will find out. Can you do that, sweetie?"

"Yes, Mama," Lois said. "I'll remember. I won't let any dragons
trick me."

-----

"Tell me the story again, Mama? Please?" Lois asked, as Mama
tucked her in.

Mama smiled at her, and brushed Lois's hair back from her face.

"You're my own real live baby angel, sweetie," Mama said. "I
found you, or maybe you found me."

"Tell about the spaceship, Mama," Lois prompted, smiling.

"I was nineteen years old," Mama began. "I was all alone in the
whole world. I never knew my father, and my mother... she wasn't
around either. I never even knew my real name. The state of New
Troy gave me a name because nobody else knew what my name was,
either. I lived in a lot of foster homes, some good ones and
some... with dragons living there."

That was the part of the story that always made Lois feel sad.
Mama was like an angel. It made Lois sad to think of
little-girl-Mama living in a sad place, or a bad place.

"But I was okay, sweetie," Mama continued. She knew how that
part of the story made Lois feel. "I knew the story of Princess
Elizabeth. I knew I could -"

"...Do anything I decided I could do," she and Lois finished
together.

Mama leaned over and kissed Lois on her forehead, then continued
with the story.

"I moved out of the last foster home and found a job, and a
place to live," she said. "I saved my money, and I went to
Centennial Park for fun. Nature is free and it's better than any
other show if you know how to watch," she added.

She had always told Lois that, and Lois knew it was true. Mama
and Lois spent a lot of their free time in the park, walking or
sitting and watching. If you sat still and watched, you could see
birds, and squirrels, and even imagine you could see the flowers
growing.

"One day, when I was leaving the park as it got dark, I saw a
shooting star," Mama said. "I felt special, because the star came
across the sky right where I was looking. Like I might be the
only one who saw that shooting star. I imagined that it was just
mine."

Lois smiled. Mama was coming to her favorite part.

"As I walked toward home, I realized that maybe the shooting
star had actually landed. There was a smoky smell and a sort of
glow in the trees near the lily pond in the park. Over where we
feed the ducks," Mama continued.

"I went over to look. It wasn't a star at all," Mama said. "It
was you, my own angel baby, in your own little spaceship. I
couldn't believe my eyes! I touched the top of the ship, right by
the window where I could see you looking up at me. And the top
opened up, and there you were. A dark-haired little baby angel."

"I didn't know if you were a real angel, but you looked like a
human baby. A baby! And somebody had put you in a rocket ship and
sent you into space all alone." This was the part where Mama
sounded fierce, like she was fighting dragons. "I knew what it
was like to be alone. To have no one who loved you. I looked at
you, and I promised I was going to do what was right. I was going
to take you home with me, and protect you, and love you, and
never let someone send you out all alone in the dark."

Lois sighed. It was the same big, happy sigh that Mama sighed
when they were snuggled together in the big chair.

"Tell the rest, Mama," she begged.

Mama smiled her angel smile, and finished the story. "I picked
you up and took you home with me. When we got there, I got a big
garbage bag, and we went back out to the park. I pushed the ship
into the bag. It wasn't very big, your ship... you were a tiny
little thing. It was kind of hard getting you and the bag back to
my apartment, but I managed it." 

"I kept the ship for a while, waiting to see if somebody would
snoop around at the park," Mama continued. "I wasn't going to
give you up for anything, and I didn't want anybody else to use
your ship to send another baby off all alone." 

She sighed, a tired sigh. Mama got tired easily, even when they
were just sitting and talking.

"I kept the ship until about the time you started to walk," she
said. "By then I had a stroller for you, one of those
old-fashioned ones that look like a buggy. I used it for our
groceries because both the groceries and you fit in it. So one
day, I put the bag with the ship in it into the buggy, and you
and I went for a long, long walk. I left the bag at the city
dump, among about a million other black bags that looked just
like it."

"And that's the end of the story," she said, "and time for you
to go to sleep."

"Tell me about my name, please, Mama?" Lois begged. "And then I
promise I'll go to sleep."

Mama smiled at her. "I went to the library with you, and I
looked through a couple of books of baby names," Mama said. "I
chose your name because 'Lois' means 'good', 'better', 'wanted',
and 'desired.' And you were all those things, beautiful girl. You
*are* all those things. You are good. Want and desire mean the
same thing, and I wanted to keep you. And you have made my life
so much better." 

"And 'Lois' also means 'battle maiden', sweetie," Mama finished.
"You are special, Lois, and strong -- strong enough to do what's
right, to fight dragons. You're my own special angel baby with
special things you can do, and you can make the world a better
place. And now, good night, little angel girl," Mama whispered,
and Lois hugged her carefully.

"I love you, Mama," she said.

"And I love you," Mama said. "Never forget that."

-----

"Concentrate, sweetie," Mama said. She was sitting in one of the
kitchen chairs, across from Lois, and holding her hands. "Focus
on me, Lois. Look into my eyes and listen to me, just to me."

Lois clung to Mama's hands. Her face was streaked with tears,
but she'd managed to stop crying. She looked into Mama's eyes;
her blue-sky eyes that made Lois feel so safe.

"What do you hear now, Lois?' Mama asked. She began to hum, the
song she sang when she was tucking Lois into bed at night.

"I hear you humming, Mama." Lois said. "And I hear your
heartbeat, like when we snuggle to read.

"Good girl," Mama said, smiling her special Mama angel smile.
"That's how you turn it off, sweetie. When the noises get too
loud again, focus on just one noise. Then the other noises will
go away. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Mama," Lois said. "I can do anything I decide I can do." 

Mama's angel smile got brighter when Lois said that. "Or that
needs doing," Mama said. "And don't ever forget," she continued,
"you can't tell anyone. Will you remember that?'

"Yes, Mama," Lois said. "I won't let the dragons know what I can
do. Then if I ever need to use my extra-noisy ears, I can do it
and the dragons won't even know."

-----

"Mama, do you want me to read to you?" Lois asked. Mama was
resting on the couch, and she was getting all fade-y looking. Not
real fade-y, like looking through things, but paler and thinner
and more tired. Like a cloud unraveling in the sky.

"Yes, sweetie," Mama said. Her voice was all fade-y too. "Read
me Princess Elizabeth's story."

Lois carefully scootched the step stool closer to the couch, so
that her head was right by Mama's head. She opened the book and
began to read to Mama, who smiled her angel smile as she
listened.

When the story was over, Lois laid her head on the couch next to
Mama's, and she rested one of her arms carefully over Mama's arm.
Mama turned her hand and squeezed Lois's hand. They stayed that
way a long, long time, until finally Mama moved, turning so she
could look into Lois's eyes.

"You need to remember, sweetie," she said. "Remember that you
are special. Remember that I love you, my beautiful girl, more
than the whole wide world. Remember that you can do whatever you
decide you want to do. Remember to always do what needs to be
done, especially to stop the dragons. And remember to never,
never tell about your special extra things, okay?

"I won't forget, Mama," Lois whispered.

She could feel the tears starting in her eyes. Mama wasn't going
to be able to stay much longer. They were running out of time.

Mama's eyes were starting tears, too. Once again, Lois tucked
her head up close to Mama's, and they stayed that way a long,
long time. Snuggled tight and crying.

Saying goodbye.

-----

Lois stood solemnly at the graveside. Mama wasn't here any more.
She'd turned into a real angel, and Lois knew Mama was watching
her from heaven.


"I won't ever forget, Mama," she whispered as the casket was
lowered into the grave. "I won't ever forget that you love me. I
won't ever forget about the dragons. And doing what's right. I
promise."

"Come now, Lois," Dr. Lane told her. "It's time to go."

Lois looked up at Dr. Lane. Mama had fixed it so that Lois would
live with Dr. Lane and her husband, who was also Dr. Lane.

Dr. Lane -- the lady doctor -- was Mama's doctor. She and Dr. Lane
- the man doctor -- had no children of their own, Mama had told
her. They wanted to adopt Lois to be their own little girl, Mama
had said.

"It will be okay for you to be their little girl too, Lois,"
Mama had said. "That's the nice thing about love. You can keep
giving it, and the people who already have it won't lose it."

Dr. Lane, the lady doctor Lane, was a nice lady. Lois had been
to her house many times. At the end, Mama and Lois both stayed at
Dr. Lane's house. Mama had explained to Lois that the doctors
would adopt her, and that her name would change to Lane. That was
okay, Mama said. The name she had before was only a borrowed one,
anyway.

"But not your first name, Lois," Mama had reminded her. "That's
your very own name to keep forever. I gave it to you, and I chose
the best one I could find. So you'll always remember how special
you are, and how much I love you."

Now the doctors were leading Lois to the car, the big black one
that Mr. Dr. Lane drove. Lois bit her lip and climbed into the
back seat. She was going to be strong, so Mama would be proud of
her. She was going to fight dragons when she grew up.

-----

Life with the Lanes was very different.

While they seemed to understand her need to grieve, she was left
alone far more than she should have been. Sam Lane was a
psychiatrist, but for all that, he didn't relate well to Lois. He
didn't seem to be able to do small talk, at least not with her.
She'd formed the impression within a short time that he'd have
been much more comfortable with a boy.

Ellen Lane showed Lois genuine affection, but not the powerful
love Mama had always shown. Ellen was not physically
demonstrative. She'd always had staff at the medical office to do
all the mundane things throughout the day, and it was the same at
home.

Lois had a nanny, a good woman but one who was always conscious
of the social difference between her and her employers. There
were no more snuggly reading sessions, no more hugs. No more
messy sessions in the kitchen; the Lanes had a cook and a
housekeeper and both were too busy for an introverted and lonely
child.

Lois had tried once or twice to make a connection with one of
the staff members. And she'd come into the kitchen one morning,
very early, and had decided to try to make herself an omelet.
Maybe the cook would appreciate not having to fix her a meal
every morning.

Maybe she would let Lois help fix some of the meals. Maybe they
could even bake cookies.

Mama had always allowed Lois to help on omelet mornings. Lois
would stand on a chair next to Mama at the stove, hair and
sleeves carefully fastened back, and Mama would let her stir the
eggs as they cooked.

It wasn't easy to do it all by herself. She dropped one of the
eggs on the stovetop before she could crack it into the pan, and
the other egg's shell crumbled into the pan along with the egg.
She carefully turned on the burner like Mama used to do, and
tried to stir the eggs.

Unfortunately, she didn't know she should use a nonstick pan.
She didn't know that she should put a pat of butter in the pan so
the egg wouldn't stick. She had the heat too high, and the egg
mixture quickly began to stick to the pan and brown, and then
blacken.

Dismayed, Lois took the pan off the burner and tried to dump the
ruined mess into the trash. She rested the pan on the edge of the
plastic garbage can, forgetting how hot the pan was. The garbage
can's rim and the garbage bag melted on that side.

She was standing there, unsure how to fix everything, when the
cook arrived in the kitchen. Instead of reassuring Lois, the
woman reacted to the mess, and immediately and loudly involved
the Lanes in the situation.

Lois stood there fighting tears while the cook raged about
unattended children, and Sam Lane assured her that it wouldn't
happen again. He sat Lois at the kitchen table across from him
and Ellen, who was irritable because she was going to arrive late
at her office.

"Now, Lois," Sam Lane began pedantically, "you simply *can't*
cause this kind of damage. Cook will overlook it this time, but
from now on you must not attempt this sort of thing again. You
need to leave the cooking to someone who knows how to do it."

"But -- " Lois started, but Sam held up a hand.

"You don't know how to cook, Lois," he said, 'and it would be
better for everyone involved if you just gave up on any further
attempts."

"But I can learn, Sam," Lois protested. He preferred that she
call him Sam.

"It would be much better if you simply leave it to the expert.
You can't cook, and you don't really need to. You should
concentrate on your schoolwork. Good grades are imperative if you
want to get into medical school."

"But I don't want..." Lois hesitated, then continued bravely,
"I... I want to be a reporter when I grow up, Sam."

Sam was shaking his head dismissively before she even finished.
"No, no, it would be much better if you just dropped that idea
now," he said.

Ellen was nodding. "Yes, my dear. The medical field is just the
sort of thing you need. It's prestigious and will earn you a
decent living." She stood and continued briskly, "Well, now that
we've sorted that out, I do need to get on with my day."

"I want to be a journalist," Lois whispered softly, but neither
of the doctors heard her.

Before he left, Sam made Lois promise she would stay out of the
kitchen and out of the cook's way.

-----

Materially, Lois lacked for nothing as she grew. There, at
least, Sam Lane was generous. She came to realize as she got
older that while the Lanes were basically good and decent people,
her presence in their family had been intended partly as an
effort to save their marriage.

They argued all the time. Their childlessness was an issue that
had driven a wedge between them long before Lois joined the
family. They didn't seem to have anything in common outside their
professions. When they did talk to each other, they couldn't
agree on anything, and there were many silent, tense meals in the
Lane house. 

Lois tried not to hear the fights, but she was still learning to
control what she and Mama had called her extra-noisy hearing.
When she couldn't concentrate enough to block the angry voices
out, she would pull the pillow over her head and sing Mama's song
softly to herself. On those nights, she usually woke up with a
tear-streaked face in the morning.

Lois spent a lot of time alone. She stayed in her room, writing
in her journal and planning her future. She became involved in
journalism in school, but steered clear of close friendships. She
read a lot, and every night she opened the Princess Elizabeth
story and read it. It made her feel closer to Mama.

-----

When she was sixteen, she started to change again. It was a
terrifying time for her, and she'd never felt so alone. She
couldn't tell anyone about the scary things that had started
happening.

She'd become used to her special vision and hearing over the
years that she had been living with the Lanes. But one day while
she was studying in her room, working on a particularly
frustrating math assignment, she accidentally set fire to the
paper as she glared at it.

In a panic, she snatched the paper off the desk, crumpling it in
her haste to get to her feet, thinking to take it into the
bathroom and pour water on it. The flames died beneath her
clutching hands, and shaking, she turned her hands over to see
the damage.

There was none.

Her hands were shaking, but there were no marks on them. No
burns, not even any redness.

What if something like this happened at school?

Determined to learn to control the strange new thing she could
do, she began to practice secretly, carefully testing her
fire-starting ability with tiny scraps of paper in her bathroom,
in the tub so that nothing else would accidentally catch on
fire.

That was how she discovered her freezing breath, too.

She blew a little too hard on one flaming scrap of paper,
coating it with ice in a matter of seconds. Flabbergasted, she
jerked backwards, slipped, and landed on her bottom on the
bathroom floor. It seemed like a good idea to just sit there for
a while, trying to wrap her brain around these new abilities.

But two things Lois had in abundance were curiosity and
determination, so before long she was up on her knees by the tub
again, practicing both new abilities.

She learned, also, that she couldn't be hurt.

She knew that she should have been burnt when she'd had her
hands in the flames that day, and her natural curiosity drove her
to find out why she hadn't been injured. She tried to get a paper
cut; the paper wouldn't cooperate. She pricked her finger with a
pin; the pin bent like a misfired staple, and her skin remained
unbroken.

Sitting at her desk after she bent the third pin, she tried to
recall the last time she'd had a cold; it had been at least three
years ago.

Fire vision.

Freezing breath.

Never sick, never hurt.

How far did this… invulnerability extend? There was probably no
way to know for sure; she certainly wasn't going to go as far as
to… jump off a roof, or step out in front of a car or something.
It was a good thing she was done with all the normal childhood
vaccinations, though.

Trying to hide her strange abilities, to cope with them and
control them, further isolated her. No one at school was mean,
really, but she had developed a reputation for being standoffish
and hard to know. 'Socially uncomfortable' was what Sam Lane
would probably call it. She didn't date, didn't have giggling
girls over to stay the night.

She didn't really have time for that anyway, though. She had
dragons to fight, a world to save.

----- 

There was a facet of her invulnerability that she hadn't
considered at all, though -- until she encountered it. Being
invulnerable meant she couldn't trim her nails or her hair with
ordinary scissors.

Lois looked at the broken nail scissors lying in her bathroom
sink. The broken fingernail clipper was already in the trashcan.

Of course, it also meant she wouldn't have to worry about
breaking a nail ever again, but of more importance was the fact
that she couldn't very well just let her nails -- or her hair -
grow.

What to do, then?

Bite them? Invulnerable teeth versus invulnerable nails... but
she'd never had a nail-biting habit and didn't intend to start
one. No matter how good a reason she had in favor of nail
biting.

What was strong enough to trim invulnerable fingernails, to cut
invulnerable hair?

Certainly a metal nail file wouldn't do it. She'd just broken
her scissors *and* her fingernail clipper, both of which were
stainless steel.

"How about one of those heavy-duty industrial files -- don't they
have diamonds on the cutting surface?" she asked her reflection.
"Or a -- what do they call those knife-sharpening things? A
whetstone." She could buy one of those at the kitchen store in
the mall. 

For Lois Lane, to have an idea was often to act on it. Heck,
sometimes she acted on the idea first and then had it. At least,
sometimes it seemed that way.

The kitchen store not only had whetstones, it had them in
various sizes. Including a cute little one with its own little
cloth pouch. Just right to fit in the palm of her hand.

Shut carefully in her bathroom, she ran the stone once across
her index fingernail, experimentally.

Nothing.

Weren't you supposed to get the stone wet?

Okay. She ran the stone under water and started again.

Still nothing.

She began to file fast and furiously.

Still nothing. Unless you counted the deep groove down the
center of the stone.

Okay. What was stronger than diamonds?

Ginsu knife? What did those commercials say, again? Lifetime
guarantee or something... Slices, dices, juliennes… < What the
heck's a julienne, anyway? > ...And, maybe, cuts fingernails?

Maybe. And if not, she'd get her money back. If she could
adequately explain what, exactly, the knife had failed to do.

Or how about titanium? Where would she get titanium, though? Did
anybody actually make titanium-bladed nail scissors? And if they
did, *why*?

Or... how about acid? Hydrochloric acid? But where on earth
would she get something like that? Hydrochloric acid -- wasn't
that what was in your stomach? Ick.

Okay. Acid was out.

A laser?

A focused beam. Like...

Like her fire vision? A tightly focused beam of heat... and
maybe a mirror when she started on her hair.

If she ever wrote an autobiography, she'd have to put that in -
'I did it with mirrors.'

"Okay, Lois, get a grip," she muttered. "You're losing it. Let's
try the fire vision gizmo."

The first few attempts weren't real professional. And she
accidentally scorched the wood along the edge of the sink
counter.

After that, she shifted operations so that she was working over
the sink itself.

"I'm pretty sure porcelain doesn't burn,' she muttered,
directing a short, focused beam at her left index fingernail.

Trimming her nails with heat made the bathroom smell kind of
funny, but hey, so did perm solution.

"The things we go through to look nice..." she muttered, tipping
her hands back and forth as she inspected the final result.

It was the same with her hair -- her first attempts were pretty
ragged. And trying to guide the focused heat using a mirror took
a while to master. She burned the back of her shirt once, and
melted part of the plastic frame on her handheld mirror.

Fortunately her hair was quite long by now, so she had enough
length to refine her technique. By the time she was finished,
though, it was fairly short. Oh, well. Short hair was easier to
take care of, she'd heard.

Lois looked at her reflection. Not bad. The hair looked even on
both sides. And her nails were short and well-shaped.

Okay. She finally let herself think about the other side of this
whole thing: it would work for the... other stuff, too. Legs.
Underarms. As long as she was careful and took her time.

It might be a while before she tried a bikini line, though.

She sighed. "I did it, Mama. I figured it out. But sometimes I
*really* wish you were here." 

-----

Lois was a good student. By the time she was in high school, she
had been on the honor roll consistently since fifth grade.

She was on the staff of the school newspaper, and won the
journalism award in both her junior and senior years.

Ellen Lane seemed proud of Lois's accomplishments, although her
typical comment was a brisk "Good work, my dear." 

But with Sam it was harder to tell.

She remembered the math assignment that had given her so much
trouble -- both the actual assignment and her setting it on fire.
Despite the terrifying incident, she had persevered and turned it
in on time. She'd gotten the highest score in the class,
ninety-eight percent.

When she showed the paper to Sam, at Ellen's prompting, he took
the assignment and looked it over carefully.

"Hmmm... Ninety-eight percent?" he asked in the slightly
ponderous voice he often used when addressing her.

"Yes, Sam," she said proudly, "I got the highest score in the
class."

He glanced at her over his glasses and returned to the paper. "I
see..." he continued. "Hmmm. Calculus. I see you had trouble with
implicit differentiation."

"Yes, but Mr. Sorenson, my math teacher, said everybody did.
He's going to go over it again."

"You are not 'everybody', Lois," Sam said. "You need to be
*better* than everyone else to succeed in life, especially if you
want to get into the right school."

"But I did... I was," Lois said, starting to feel defensive.
"Ninety-eight percent was the highest score."

Sam handed the paper back to Lois. "Ninety-eight percent. That
leaves two percent for improvement, Lois." 

He stood and picked up his briefcase. "I have a meeting in an
hour," he told Ellen, who was also preparing to leave.

Lois watched them go to their separate cars, and then went up to
her room and closed the door. She had half an hour before she had
to leave for school, and suddenly she wasn't hungry.

She sat down on her bed, fighting tears.

No. She wasn't going to cry.

She picked up Mama's picture from the table beside her bed.

"Hi, Mama," she whispered. "Look what I got. A ninety-eight
percent. The highest score in the class. And I did it because of
what you said, Mama. I decided I could do it, and I did, even
with my fire-starting eyes."

Despite her best efforts, a single tear tracked down her cheek.

-----

Having won the High School Journalist of the Year award two
years running, Lois was awarded a two-week junior internship at
the prestigious Daily Planet during the summer after her senior
year.

The program was in partnership with the American Society of
Newspaper Editors Foundation, and the internship was awarded to
an outstanding high school senior who had participated in high
school journalism for at least two years. ASNE funded several
such programs in different regions of the country, awarding
internships at the New York Times, the San Francisco Chronicle,
and the Washington Post, as well as the Daily Planet and many
others.

The too-brief internship reinforced to Lois that journalism was
what she wanted. And not just any sort of journalism. She was
going to be an investigative reporter for the Daily Planet, and
she was going to be the best.

ASNE had also awarded her several grants and a partial
scholarship to Metropolis University's School of Journalism.

When Lois announced that she had won the scholarship to Met U
and intended to earn a journalism degree, both of the Lanes were
openly disappointed that she hadn't chosen to become a doctor.

"A... reporter, Lois?" Ellen asked in dismay. "It's so...
menial. Grubbing around for stories, and ink all over the
place..."

Ellen obviously had no idea what journalism was really like.

"And... Metropolis University? Really, my dear, a public school?
What about Harvard? Princeton? Cornell or Yale?" Ellen asked
her.

"Lois, you must discard this idea," Sam added in his most
pedantic voice. "You put a GPA such as yours to shame squandering
it on this sort of thing. You may choose any of the Ivy League
schools that you want, but I'm afraid I simply can't support your
decision to attend Metropolis University."

"Sam, it's what I want," Lois told him. "I've wanted to be a
newspaper reporter for almost as long as I can remember."

"Then you'll have to do it on your own, Lois," he replied. He
seemed to have no doubt that his ultimatum would change her
mind.

< You need to remember... Remember that you can do whatever you
decide you want to do. >

Mama's words echoed in her mind. She straightened her spine,
crossed her arms, and looked first Ellen and then Sam in the
eye.

"Then I will do it on my own," she stated clearly. "I will
become a journalist and I will be the best investigative reporter
the Daily Planet has ever had."

-----

By the time she graduated from high school, Lois had discovered
that she seemed to have an almost photographic memory -
particularly if the subject matter appealed to her. In her less
favorite subjects, she did have to study, at least a little. But
in general, she seemed to remember, with minimal effort, most of
what she read or saw.

She still spent time studying, though -- she wasn't going to
leave anything to chance when it came to achieving her goal.

She'd also discovered that she seemed to have an aptitude for
languages. She studied French in high school, but also picked up
some Spanish, Chinese, and even Russian by listening to other
students practicing their vocabularies during study hall.

She continued to live with Sam and Ellen Lane throughout most of
her college years. Sam had come around enough to accept that he
wasn't going to be able to change her mind. He didn't like it,
but he had learned that Lois Lane at her most stubborn was
utterly unbudgeable.

Ellen, understanding exactly how stubborn both of them could be,
had recognized that Sam would not support Lois financially while
she attended Metropolis University. She also knew that Lois would
not ask him for help.

In a moment of relative peace in the household, she had
convinced them both that Lois should live at home while attending
college. She simply wore both of them down until they finally
agreed with her, just to stop her talking. To her credit, she was
helping Lois stretch the scholarship and grant money much further
than if Lois had also had to pay rent.

During her second year of college, Lois did consider moving out.
She would have had to find a roommate, but it would have brought
a respite from the increasingly acrimonious battles between Sam
and Ellen.

But that same year, she began to change again.

Gradually, over the end of her first year at Met U and through
the summer following it, she had noticed that she seemed to be
getting stronger. It was subtle at first. She never seemed to
notice the weight of the books she needed to carry from class to
class, although she heard her classmates complaining about it
frequently.

She took several elective courses over the summer, one of which
was a printing technology course. The students were taught how to
operate, among other things, a linotype machine and an old manual
printing press. Neither of the machines was difficult to use, but
both were huge, old, iron antiques.

One day, the last to leave the printing lab, Lois stumbled as
she rounded the printing press, putting out a hand to catch
herself. She didn't fall, but she pushed the machine, twice as
tall as she was and weighing several tons, about a foot out of
its usual resting place.

Flabbergasted, and terrified someone would enter the lab and see
what had happened, she frantically pulled on the press with very
little expectation that it would move, despite what had just
happened. The machine moved easily back into place, and Lois
shakily exited the lab.

"Are you all right, Ms. Lane?" her professor, who had just
finished talking to one of her classmates, asked. "You look very
pale; are you ill?"

Lois was trembling, and she had no doubt that she was, indeed,
pale. It wasn't every day that your average
one-hundred-twenty-pound college student could physically move a
two-ton printing press without any help.

"I'm okay, thanks," she said quickly. "I... didn't eat
breakfast... I woke up late and... I just need to go get some
lunch," she improvised hurriedly.

The professor nodded, still looking concerned. "Well, okay, but
take the time to eat a proper meal, Ms. Lane."

"I will," Lois said, already moving for the exit. She had to get
out of there.

She headed for the park where she and Mama used to spend so many
happy hours. It was still a source of comfort. She sat on one of
the benches near the lily pond, where Mama had found her all
those years ago. Watching nature's free show, the way Mama had
taught her to watch, calmed her considerably.

After she'd sat for a while, she took a deep breath and looked
around. There was no one else in the immediate area. She used her
special vision to look further; the closest people were several
adults and a group of children in the playground area a
considerable distance away.

Looking around again, she noted a boulder near the far end of
the pond. She stood and walked over to it. It was roughly half
the size of a Volkswagen, which meant it had to weigh a
considerable amount.

Scanning again with her special vision, she assured herself that
she was still unobserved. Bending, she tucked one hand partly
under a lower edge and lifted. The boulder came off the ground
easily, and she was able to raise it above her head, still using
only one hand and steadying it with the other.

She set it down carefully and deliberately in the exact spot it
had occupied, brushed her hands off against her jeans, then
returned to the bench just as carefully and deliberately.

"Mama," she whispered, "I really, really wish you were here.
What do I do now?"

She remembered how Mama had helped her practice her special
vision and those extra-noisy ears. Okay, so she would have to
practice until she could control this new strength thingy.

She rose from the bench and headed for home. She'd have to find
some place to practice this new ability. Maybe a gym? She'd have
to be very careful to only practice her version of weight lifting
when she was alone, though.

"I remember the dragons, Mama," she whispered softly. "I'll be
careful, I promise."

----- 

When she told Sam and Ellen that she would like to join a gym,
Ellen expressed concern about the idea.

"I just don't like the idea of you going to a public gym, Lois,"
she said. "They're full of germs -- I'm sure none of the equipment
is cleaned adequately between uses -- and you have no control over
the membership. And you'd be going at night, wouldn't you? Any…
*criminal* could join. You aren't a very large person -- someone
could overpower you so easily."

Lois had been at somewhat of a loss as to how to answer that.
She probably couldn't be overpowered easily -- possibly not at all
- but she couldn't very well tell Ellen or Sam that. She ended up
simply repeating her desire to have a place where she could work
out.

"You need to be safe at the same time, Lois," Ellen insisted.
"Sam, isn't there any sort of private gym we can get her into?"

Sam stroked his chin in thought. "I consider this an excellent
idea, Lois," he began. "Every young person should choose ways to
stay in shape while they are still young. It pays to start good
health habits early..."

"Yes, yes, Sam," Ellen interrupted. "But look at her! She's so
small! She won't be safe at some… unregulated public gym."

Lois knew it was pointless to argue with Ellen about whether she
could protect herself or not. It would be easier to use Sam as an
ally in this particular battle.

"Yes, Sam," she agreed, "I need to start exercising more. I
really need somewhere to work out." 

"What about Mike?" Ellen asked suddenly. "Couldn't he help us
out? You used to go over there, remember, Sam?"

Sam was nodding approvingly even before she finished speaking.
"I can ask him," he said, reaching for the telephone.

Lois exhaled softly and felt the tense muscles across her
shoulders loosen. It looked like maybe she was going to get her
way.

Her Uncle Mike, Sam's brother, was also a doctor. He was the
director of a sports medicine facility associated with Metropolis
University. The facility had a fully equipped gymnasium,
including an Olympic-size pool and an indoor running track.

Mike was quite happy to help out, although he cautioned Lois
that she would have to use the facility outside of its normal
operating hours. Lois agreed readily, since that was exactly what
she wanted, anyway.

The possibility of observers had been one of the big drawbacks
to her plan, but she hadn't been able to think of any other
viable way to practice controlling her strength. They lived in
the middle of the city, and her only access to the outdoors was
Centennial Park, which wasn't very secluded at all.

And there were very few things at home large enough -- or heavy
enough -- for her to practice on. Practice effectively, that was.
She couldn't bench press the grand piano -- well, she probably
could, but it was Ellen's pride and joy. How would Lois explain
it if she accidentally damaged it?

She'd started out lifting her bedroom furniture over her head,
but quickly realized that if she was going to safely control
every movement she made, she needed more diverse activities. She
needed to focus on every muscle group, which meant physical
activity such as weight lifting and running and swimming.

Mike arranged for the security staff to let her into the
building in the evenings, and to escort her to her small car, a
high school graduation present from Sam and Ellen, at the end of
her workouts.

He also gave her keys to the large gym and the pool and locker
room. And expressing concern that she would have no spotter if
she chose to weight-lift, he gave her a key to his athletic
performance lab. It had a full range of weightlifting machines
where she could safely work out without a spotter -- and it had
the added advantage that it was off-limits to anyone else except
Uncle Mike.

For entirely different reasons, both Lois and Ellen were
perfectly happy with these arrangements.

Mike stayed late on Lois's first visit, to make sure she knew
how to use the equipment safely. That was a nerve-racking
experience for Lois. Uncle Mike showed her how to set weights he
considered safe for her size and supposed strength, then had her
try out the machines. Lois had to make it look like she found the
weights heavy, while at the same time trying not to push or pull
hard enough to damage anything.

He had also mentioned the lack of security cameras in any area
of the building, other than in the front lobby where the business
office was located. "Most of the athletes who use these
facilities are recovering from injuries," he'd told her, "and
they value their privacy. So you don't have to worry that someone
is, say, ogling you while you swim, or anything like that."

The possibility of cameras hadn't even occurred to her. "Uncle
Mike, you have no idea how reassuring it is to hear that," she
told him with utter sincerity.

Satisfied that she knew what she was doing, he'd reminded her
that she could call on him if she needed any help with the
machines, and then left her to her workout. Left alone, Lois had
decided that a visit to the pool area -- specifically, the hot tub
-- would be a good first step. She'd needed to sit quietly and
let her adrenaline levels subside a little before she could begin
an actual workout.

-----

By the time the fall semester started, Lois had gained
considerable control over her newfound strength.

There had been a few mishaps, of course, but fortunately, they
were of a much less notable nature than the printing press
incident.

Grabbing for a cup of coffee one morning, in a hurry to leave
for school, she'd exerted too much pressure and crushed the mug
to fragments, spilling hot coffee all over her hand and the
table. Luckily, neither Sam nor Ellen had been there.

Uninjured, she'd hurriedly cleaned up the mess.

She'd accidentally bent a couple of the iron bars at the gym and
had had to bend them back into shape. She'd also inadvertently
broken the lock on one of the locker room doors.

The door was set to lock automatically behind her. She'd
realized, just as it was clicking shut, that she'd accidentally
left her purse, keys, and jacket in the locker room. Reflexively
trying to stop the door closing all the way, she'd grabbed and
twisted the door's handle a little too hard -- and had heard a
crunching noise as the lock gave way.

Chagrined, she had automatically glanced around; no one was in
sight, of course. For probably the hundredth time, she'd thought
how lucky she was that the place didn't have security cameras.
She had quickly grabbed her things and left, trying to look
nonchalant as she joined the security guard at the front desk.
Suppressing a twinge of guilt, she'd told him that the locker
room door's lock seemed to be jammed or something. He'd assured
her he'd let maintenance know, and had escorted her to her car
exactly as usual.

Not too long after that incident, she was sitting in her room
one night after another workout, rather idly cataloging her
current list of abilities, when she'd become aware that she could
probably add 'impervious to temperature extremes' to the list.

She'd started spending much of her sessions trying to fine-tune
her degree of control over her strength and endurance, once she
had tested the limits of those abilities as well as she was able
to with the equipment available at the gym. But she'd realized,
that night in her room, that she never broke a sweat, whether she
was pushing the heaviest weights the gym offered, or running slow
and steady endurance laps.

And Ellen Lane had commented several times that she still had to
remind Lois to take a jacket on cold days, exactly as she had
when Lois was in grade school.

While Lois had originally started frequenting the gym in order
to practice controlling her strength, she'd found that the
regular exercise was almost therapeutic. She probably didn't
*need* to exercise; it followed, considering the temperature
thing and her invulnerability, that she was unlikely to get fat
or out of shape. But she enjoyed the physical activity, and it
seemed to help dispel the stress of hiding her abilities so
strictly under the mantle of ordinary girl-next-door normality.

Sometimes she swam in the indoor pool or ran laps on the
elevated track, and there, in those two activities, she had
discovered two more new abilities.

Swimming laps, she had realized she could hold her breath for an
inordinately long period of time. She'd timed herself by looking
at the wall clock as she went under, then looking again when she
had to come up for air.

Her longest time, so far, was twenty-one minutes.

Running laps, she had discovered her increased speed. Lost in
thought one night, she'd increased her pace until she'd realized
that the world around her was a blur. Slowing down, she'd been
amazed to see that the impact-absorbing surface was... smoking.
She'd hurriedly blown gently, cooling the track, and had resolved
to return the following day with a stopwatch.

Her best time for one mile, so far, was barely measurable --
mere tenths of a second.

Noting how her invulnerability extended from not getting sick or
hurt, to not being affected by temperature extremes, to
effortlessly staying in shape, she'd wondered if her speed might
include more than just a track coach's hyperventilation-inducing,
wildest-dreams running time.

She experimented in her room -- showering, writing, dressing.
She could do all of those things in seconds, and sometimes in
fractions of seconds.

At least learning to control the speed thingy was much easier
than learning to control her enhanced strength had been.

-----

Lois moved into her own apartment at the end of her third year
at Met U. Officially, there were a number of reasons for the
move.

The fights between Sam and Ellen had escalated. Sam was writing
a book and was, from Ellen's point of view, underfoot much more
than he had been before he stopped seeing most of his patients.
This led to more frequent clashes, and Lois found the constant
tension difficult to cope with.

She had taken as many classes as she could during the summers
after her first and second years, determined to earn her degree
and get on with her plans as soon as possible. She managed to win
the highly-coveted summer internship position at the Daily Planet
her third year, and felt the whole experience would seem more
like an actual job if she lived on her own. 

And she was actually able to afford it without having to ask Sam
for help.

Shortly after she turned twenty-one, she was contacted by the
law firm who had handled her mother's will and Lois's formal
adoption by the Lanes. When she called the office, she was told
that there was some final business in regard to her mother's
estate, to be executed now that Lois was of legal age.

Sitting in the waiting area of the office, Lois tried hard to
look composed. She resolutely kept her special hearing focused on
the sounds immediately around her, terrified that she would
overhear something devastating. Did they know about the
spaceship? About how Mama had found her? Why, suddenly, after all
these years was there still something to discuss?

"Miss Lane?" the receptionist interrupted her increasingly
panicky thoughts. "Mr. Stone will see you now."

Mr. Stone had been her mother's lawyer. Lois remembered him,
vaguely -- a stiff and dark-suited presence in the family
courtroom during her adoption proceeding. After a brief but
friendly greeting, he asked her to take a seat.

"Miss Lane," he began, "your mother was able to do something
many people are not able to do. Because she knew she was dying,
she was able to put into place several... safeguards for your
future."

Lois could feel her heart pounding, and strove to appear calm.

"Your mother set up your adoption by the Lanes," Mr. Stone
continued, "and left instructions with this firm as to her wishes
in that regard. She also had, and I imagine this is something you
did not know, a quite generous life insurance policy."

At Lois's start of surprise, he smiled slightly. "Yes, I thought
that would be a surprise. She was, if you'll pardon my saying
this about a woman dying of leukemia, quite lucky. She applied
for a life insurance policy shortly after you were born, I
believe. This was before she became ill, so she was able to
purchase a very good policy. She instructed this firm to invest
the insurance pay-out and to hold it in trust for you until you
turned twenty-one."

Lois had not moved during this time, except to blink.

Mr. Stone continued, "The initial pay-out value was fifty
thousand dollars. That sum has grown to approximately one hundred
and fifty thousand dollars. Your mother was a smart woman, Miss
Lane, and I am honored to carry out her wishes."

"Thank you," Lois whispered.

Mama.

Mama had surrounded her with love all those precious days they'd
had together, and here was a final gift from her.

Mr. Stone seemed to understand Lois's inability to speak, and
after a moment he continued, "Your mother also left instructions
for the yearly rental of a safety deposit box, to be paid by the
trust. I believe there were family heirlooms she wanted to ensure
you would receive... The box is located at one of the downtown
branches of the First Bank of Metropolis, and you merely need to
present your driver's license and another form of ID to gain
access to the box."

In a daze, Lois accepted the paperwork the lawyer had prepared
for her, thanked him, and left the office. Almost of their own
volition, her feet carried her to the park.

---

Sinking onto a bench near the lily pond, Lois let the quiet
sounds of nature enfold her and tried to come to terms with Mr.
Stone's completely unexpected news.

Mama had worked hard, but they'd certainly never had extra money
for anything. Yet somehow, she'd managed to pay the premiums on a
life insurance policy. And Mr. Stone had said she'd left 'family
heirlooms' in a safety deposit box. Mama had had no family. Maybe
she'd saved something from the time she'd found Lois.

Feeling more composed, Lois rose from the bench and made her way
to the First Bank of Metropolis branch where Mama's safety
deposit box was located. The bank was about a half block from the
park's Michigan Street entrance.

Lois presented her Met U student ID card and driver's license at
the bank, and was directed to Mama's safety deposit box. Taking a
deep breath, she fitted the key into its place and opened the
box.

There were two things inside: a shoebox, wrapped in brown paper
with her name written on the outside, and a small envelope. With
shaking hands, Lois opened the envelope.

In Mama's familiar writing was a short note:

<><><><><><><>

Happy twenty-first year, my beautiful girl!

I've saved some things for you, but do not open the box here at
the bank. Take it home and only open it when you are sure you
will be undisturbed.

All my love, forever,
			
Mama

<><><><><><><>

Lois carefully lifted the package out of the box, and then
returned the box to its place. She left the bank and hailed a
taxi. Poor student or not, this was definitely a taxi situation.
She wasn't going to ride the bus with her precious package.

---

When she got home, she went directly to her room. Neither Sam
nor Ellen was home, of course, and the only live-in staff, the
cook, was probably in the kitchen somewhere. Lois locked the door
of her room, and then sat on her bed.

She took a deep breath, then tore the paper off the box, careful
to save the piece that had 'Lois' written on it in Mama's
writing. She lifted the top off and looked inside.

There was another envelope, this time a legal-sized one. Her
name was written on it, again in Mama's writing.

Under the envelope was a folded pale blue cloth of some kind,
silky-looking and very soft. Lois lifted it out and unfolded it.
It was a tiny one-piece baby garment, sort of like a nightgown.
It had a collar edged with something that looked like a cross
between lace and crochet-work, in the same pale, pale blue. There
was a small, strange crest of some kind pinned on the collar. The
crest was mostly a pale yellow, with a symbol that looked like a
stylized S in the center, in pale red.

There was also a baby blanket, loosely woven of threads in those
same three colors. And there were two intertwined chains -- gold?
- about adult-wrist-sized. One had the S-crest incorporated into
it and the other had the same crest shape, but this time with
what looked sort of like a W or a pair of crossed V's in its
center.

The last item in the box was a small photo album, the kind that
held one photo per page. With trembling hands, Lois opened it and
began to turn the pages.

Photos.

Photos, some a little blurry, obviously taken by an amateur.
Photos of a small, dark-haired, smiling baby -- her. Photos of her
as a toddler. Grinning from under a blanket, and sitting in the
old-fashioned buggy. Feeding the ducks. Curled up in Mama's big
chair, asleep.

And there were two photos of Lois and Mama. In one, they were
sitting together in Mama's chair, and in the other, at the old
kitchen table. Lois stroked her finger gently over the photo
Mama's face.

She remembered the one taken at the kitchen table. Their elderly
neighbor, Mrs. Burch, who baby-sat Lois when Mama was at work,
had been visiting. Mama was already ill by then, but was feeling
pretty good that day. Lois had been playing dress-up. The women
had chatted over tea, and Mrs. Burch had offered to take their
picture.

At the back of the album, behind the pages with photos, there
were a few keepsakes tucked into the clear plastic photo
pockets.

A lock of dark hair.

A pressed wildflower.

A folded sheet of paper, that when unfolded revealed a child's
drawing of a pond, and trees, and two smiling stick figures, one
large and one small.

A small, faded, pink construction-paper heart, with 'I LoV YoU
MAMA ' written on it in shaky letters.

And two more folded up papers, an inexpertly drawn Princess
Elizabeth and a building with many windows. There were dragon
faces peering out of each window.

Lois laughed out loud, remembering. She and Mama had colored
those in after Mama had drawn them at Lois's request.

< Mama, will you draw me Princess Elizabeth, and then draw me
her stable? >

< Does Princess Elizabeth have a stable, sweetie? >

< Of course. You remember, Mama -- where she keeps the dragons.
>

< I didn't know Princess Elizabeth keeps dragons in her stable.
>

< Yes, Mama, remember? You told me she doesn't kill them. She
jes' stables them. >

She remembered Mama's sweet laughter, and her loving hug.

< Oh, sweetie, I said Princess Elizabeth *disables* them. That
means she fixes them so they can't hurt anyone or anything. She
makes their fire burn out, remember? >

< Oh. >

Lois remembered her little-girl-disappointment. The idea of a
stable full of dragons was just so appealing.

< But you know what, sweetie? May she *does* stable them. After
all, they do need somewhere to go, don't they? >

And with Lois looking on happily, Mama had drawn the stable with
smiling dragons looking out all the windows.

Those pictures had hung on their refrigerator art gallery the
longest, Lois remembered.

With a huge lump in her throat, Lois turned her attention to the
envelope. Inside was a letter.

<><><><><><><>

My beloved Lois,

In this box are the few things I found with you. You were
wearing the little pastel outfit and the blanket, and the chains
were tied into a corner of the blanket. I don't know what the
symbols mean, but the S was also on the outside of the ship. I
don't know anything more about where you came from or why.

I can't give you a family history, but I can tell you my story.
I grew up in foster care. I don't remember anything about my
parents. I was found on the steps of a church at about
two-years-old. I was too young to tell anybody anything, not even
my name, so the state gave me a name and a birthday.

As soon as I was eighteen I moved out of my foster home. I was
already working at the library. When I wasn't working, I spent a
lot of my free time at the park or the library. It was free
entertainment, and you can never run out of stories to read and
things to learn.

Then I found you. I was scared to tell anyone how I found you,
or even that I had found you at all. What if they took you away?
What if they were looking for you? Were you some kind of
government experiment? I'd been in good and bad foster homes, and
I knew there were people out there who might do something like
sending a baby into space!

Well, I was going to keep you. You were meant to be my little
girl. I knew it the moment I opened your spaceship. You must have
been so scared and hungry and cold, but you smiled at me. I think
I fell in love with you right then. You were so sweet! I swore I
was going to protect you. I went to a free clinic with you about
a month after I found you, and pretended I was sort of dumb, and
said I had you at home. I got you a birth certificate that way; I
got a lecture, too, about proper health care and all that, but
that was a small price to pay to make you legally mine. Nobody
ever suspected any different!

I changed jobs right after I found you. I was lucky; I found a
job as a filing clerk in a law firm. I liked my job at the
library, but while it was okay for people to think I was an unwed
mother -- that was what I wanted them to think so I could keep
you -- everyone at my old job would have known I'd never been
pregnant.

The law office did a lot of estate planning. I thought it all
sounded so interesting, so I did a lot of reading. I learned
about stuff like safety deposit boxes and life insurance. I
wanted to make sure you would never end up like I had, so I got a
life insurance policy. My boss fixed it so that the premiums came
right out of my paycheck. That was actually kind of unusual, I
think, for those days, but it was one of the advantages of
working for a law office.

Then I found out I was dying. The doctors never came out and
said that, but I knew it was true. I was so scared! I had to find
someone who would take care of you. Mrs. Burch loved you, but she
was too old to raise a small child. Dr. Lane -- I knew they wanted
a baby, but she said she would take you, and would even adopt
you. I know they weren't perfect, but they could give you an
education and advantages you otherwise might not get. 

I never, ever told anyone the truth about you. I thought it
would be safer that way. I hope it hasn't been too hard on you.
You always were a strong little thing; I admired that about you
from the beginning.

Remember what I always told you? You can do anything you decide
you want to do. Don't ever be afraid to do what's right, what
needs doing. Don't be afraid to fight dragons. And always, always
remember how much I love you!

All my love, Mama

<><><><><><><>

By now tears were streaming down her face, but Lois read the
letter again, and then a third time.

"Oh, Mama," she whispered around a sob, "I miss you so much! I
wish I could tell you how much I love you. How much I thank you
for those wonderful years and all the things you taught me."

She carefully tucked everything but the photo album back into
the box. She put the box in the bottom -- lockable -- drawer of her
desk, and locked it.

She put the photo album in the bedside table drawer, next to
Princess Elizabeth's story, so that she could look at it last
thing at night whenever she wanted.

-----

Unofficially, there was another very good reason why Lois should
have her own place, although she didn't discover that reason
until she'd been living in her small apartment for about two
weeks.

Working on a midterm assignment for one of her less-popular
classes, she dozed off while sitting on the couch -- a couch that
was much more uncomfortable than she had anticipated when she
picked it out. She'd sat on it in the store, of course, but she
hadn't done more than perch politely on it as the saleswoman
talked.

Furniture stores should let you test their couches the way you'd
really use them.

With your sock feet on the coffee table, watching TV and eating
pizza. 

Sprawled out with one leg hanging over the arm while you talked
on the phone.

Or sound asleep after that all-nighter you'd just pulled,
writing that term paper.

But no, they expected you to sit briefly and then decide to buy
the thing. You couldn't wiggle around and get comfortable, sort
of mash the pillows down and settle in. So you didn't know how
awkward and cramped you'd get when you actually fell asleep on it
until you had it in your own living room.

So, in retrospect, what happened next wasn't too surprising.

And it wasn't at all surprising that she reacted the way she
did.

She woke abruptly with a startled jerk when the telephone rang.
But Lois's startled jerk didn't knock the telephone off the end
table, or her coffee cup off the table in front of the couch.

No, Lois Lane's startled jerk knocked *her* out of the *air*. 

In a frantic tangle of waving arms and legs -- and wits -- she
crashed down apparently from thin air about two feet above the
table, sending her books, papers, pens, *and* the coffee cup
flying. Disoriented and in utter shock, she fumbled automatically
for the phone, mumbling "Hello?" into it in a shaky voice as she
brought her feet around, off the coffee table, and stood up.

"Lois?" Ellen Lane asked, "What's the matter, my dear? Are you
ill? You sound… I don't know, shaky. Out of breath."

"No," Lois said in a stronger voice, pushing her tangled hair
back out of her eyes. What had just happened?!

"Lois?" Ellen's voice came again.

"I'm fine," Lois said quickly. "I was just… um, unlocking the
last of those locks you insisted on, and I heard the phone
ringing, and…" She hoped that sounded believable.

It must have. "Well, I imagine it does take a little extra time,
but what I said made sense, you know, Lois. It's wise to be a
little extra cautious in this day and age."

"Yeah, I know." It was pointless to argue with Ellen about any
sort of safety precautions. The locks were a pain, but Lois could
deal with it. Maybe she'd just lock *some* of them. If somebody
tried to pick her locks, maybe they'd end up locking the ones she
left unlocked.

"Well, anyway," Ellen continued, "I just called to see how you
were settling in."

"Uh, can I call you back?" Lois asked quickly. She needed to
think about what had just happened. She scrambled for a
believable excuse. "I'm… I… um, I've got something I have to do…"
That was actually the truth. She had to figure out what was going
on. Had she just been… *floating* in midair?!

"A date?" Ellen asked.

Lois forced her attention back to the phone. "No…" she said, and
heard Ellen's sigh of disappointment.

"Lois, take some time to… to go out, to meet people. You can't
just focus on school all the time. Why don't you meet me for
lunch, and we can talk about introducing you to some nice young
men…"

Lois had heard all this numerous times before. She didn't want
to hurt Ellen's feelings but a relationship with *anyone* was out
of the question. She had no idea if she could ever have a normal
relationship with any man.

How could she be sure it was safe to tell someone else her
secret? And what if… what if she lost control of one of her
abilities? Could she even *have* a… physical relationship
safely?

And now there was this new thing. Thank goodness this hadn't
happened while she lived at home!

"Ellen," Lois said in increasing desperation, "I have to go,
I'll call you back later, okay?" And on Ellen's goodbye, she hung
up the phone and collapsed onto the couch.

She sat and stared at the mess around her. Coffee had soaked
into the rug between the couch and the coffee table. Papers
littered the carpet and her Press and Politics textbook lay on
its face, pages crumpled, under the table.

It could have been worse, though. At least the table wasn't one
of those glass-topped ones. 

So what *had* really happened? She was almost positive she
hadn't been dreaming. Besides, how did she explain… landing on
the coffee table?

She'd been -- she'd been… floating.
 
And why was this so hard to comprehend? Especially after all the
other things she could do.

She took a deep breath.

Okay.

She sat straighter on the couch and thought 'up.'

Nothing happened.

"Okay," she muttered resolutely. "I will figure this out."

What if this only happened when she was unconscious? When she
was asleep? That could be really awkward. It really, *really* was
a good thing she'd moved out.

Maybe she just had to be relaxed. She certainly wasn't really
very relaxed right now -- actually, she was feeling a bit highly
strung at the moment.

< Highly strung… not the same as floating. >

Lois forced back her increasingly hysterical thoughts.

"All right, Lane, deal with this," she said fiercely. "How can
this be any more freaky than fire-starting eyes, after all?" She
made a conscious effort to relax and clear her mind. Maybe she
would float automatically.

A half hour later, she acknowledged that nothing was happening.
She sighed and stood up. It was time to start cleaning up the
spilled papers and coffee. She still had to finish that
assignment.

She'd have to deal with the rest -- the floating -- later.

---

Her assignment didn't go as smoothly as she'd hoped. It was
difficult to stay focused on her notes, to lay them out in
logical order on paper, when thoughts of her newest… skill
continued to float in the back of her mind.

< *Float*? Cut it out, Lane! >

Lois gave up.

No more schoolwork. She was going to bed. Maybe if she slept on
it, she'd have more answers in the morning.

Lying in bed, she let her mind wander. Random thoughts…

She sat up abruptly. What if it really was involuntary? If she
had no control over the floating, she couldn't go out in public.
She'd be… trapped forever in her apartment...

"Deep breaths," she whispered. "Remember what Mama said?
'Concentrate, Lois, take deep breaths.' Okay. I am. I'm taking
deep breaths." She lay down again, forcing herself to breathe
evenly and deeply. "Think of Mama…" she repeated. She began to
sing Mama's song softly. Gradually, she began to calm down, began
to relax. 

Was that -?

What -? 

She felt herself begin to rise, and immediately tensed up. At
once she sank -- bounced -- back down onto the bed. 

Deliberately, she loosened her tense muscles. She sank
bonelessly into the quilt, and tentatively thought 'up' again. To
her increasing delight, she came steadily up off the bed until
she hovered a foot or so above it. She looked up at her bedroom
ceiling, and in moments had drifted high enough to touch it. She
was *floating*!

"Oh, this could be so much *fun*," she exclaimed, laughing out
loud, feeling more lighthearted than she'd been in a long, long
time.

Placing one palm against the ceiling, she pushed off,
instinctively righting herself, and drifted down until her feet
touched the bed. She sank down into a sitting position, settling
fully onto the quilt, and then began to experiment in earnest.

By 5:00 a.m. she had the rudiments down. She could take off
fairly gracefully from any position -- lying down, sitting, or
standing. She could land okay -- mostly. She did knock over the
bedside lamp a couple of times, and once she misjudged the
distance to the floor and landed on her rear.

And she could do more than just drift up off the floor, the bed
or a chair. She could also move horizontally… like… more like
*flying* than *floating*.

She needed -- wanted -- to keep practicing. But where? She needed
more space than her small apartment provided.

She could go somewhere… a park, maybe? Not Centennial Park,
though -- that was too risky. Too many chances that someone might
see her.

And if she was going out somewhere to practice, she ought to go
at night, and wear dark clothes. She certainly didn't want to be
seen.

She could… take off from her apartment roof? But that was so
much higher than her bedroom ceiling. What if she fell?

The invulnerability… how far did that extend? Was she truly,
completely invulnerable? Utterly? It wasn't like she'd really
tested it… by, oh, being shot at, or… stepping in front of a
train…

She couldn't take time off from school and travel someplace
remote, like the mountains, to practice. It was the middle of the
semester. And summer was coming up, and with it her highly prized
internship at the Daily Planet. There was *no way* she'd give
that up.

"Think, Lois," she grumbled.

What if she were to start small? Like maybe… the roof of the
Lanes' house? It was only two stories tall. Couldn't she start
there? Yes, she could walk over there at night. And maybe… try
floating up until she reached the roof.

"Ugh. How am I supposed to *wait* until tonight?" she groused.
"And I can't blow off class because it's the midterm!" < You have
*never* blown off a class, Lane. > She stomped into the bathroom
to get ready for school.

-----

Lois discovered fairly quickly that she could, indeed, do more
than merely float.

After a couple of practice sessions on the Lanes' roof, she grew
gradually bolder and began to experiment with height and speed.
She could rise into the air from any spot as fast as she could
run -- which was pretty fast. She also practiced landing.

Naturally graceful, Lois found that there were almost no limits
to what she could do. She could swoop and soar and even hover.
She could fly slowly, and so fast that her stopwatch couldn't
time her speed. She could take off abruptly or slowly, and land
so lightly that she disturbed nothing around her.

Even the sky itself was no limit.

She could go wherever she desired -- as long as she was extremely
careful to avoid being seen. She quickly assembled what she
thought of as her 'flying clothes' -- black jeans, black t-shirt,
black socks and shoes.

When she could, she experimented with speed and distance,
finding that she could literally travel across the country in a
matter of minutes.

The only drawback was that she wasn't always able to figure out
where she was. The actual states didn't have those helpful black
lines drawn around their borders the way they were on maps. Or
those handy contrasting pastel colors that so many maps had.

Obvious landmarks made some locations easy to figure out: the
St. Louis Arch; Chicago, situated as it was on the distinct lower
edge of Lake Michigan; Washington, DC, with its well-known
buildings and monuments, and San Francisco with the Golden Gate
Bridge.

But with the smaller towns and cities, she sometimes had to look
for a newspaper stand in order to figure out if she'd correctly
found her intended destination.

She began to research flight, looking for an effective way to
keep her bearings, and soon focused on the ancient sailors'
methods of steering by the stars. She studied star charts and
brushed up on her geometry, and tested herself by choosing and
correctly finding several destinations.

Flying quickly became a way for her to relieve the stress of
daily life complicated by incredible abilities she had to keep
hidden.

-----

Lois spent the summer after her third year -- her last year of
college -- at the Daily Planet.

By dint of taking all of her electives during her summers, she'd
managed to finish both her core classes and the required number
of electives by the end of her junior year. Once she finished the
summer internship program, she would have enough credits to
graduate.

The two-week junior internship at the Planet that she'd won in
high school had been primarily an observational one. She'd been
given a tour of the entire building, and had then spent her days
in the newsroom, shadowing in turn a researcher, a reporter, and
an editor.

This internship was a college course, for credits needed to
graduate. As an intern, she was a very junior member of the staff
- but she was staff nonetheless. She spent time in almost all of
the Planet's departments, learning the entire process from rough
first-draft editing of news items, to collating and printing, to
advertising and revenue.

She even spent some time in delivery. While working in delivery
wasn't very appealing, she did see the humor in coming home with
hands blackened by fresh newsprint -- exactly as Ellen had
feared.

And after a month of rotating through departments, she was given
a desk and assigned some actual stories.

A dog show. A ribbon-cutting ceremony for a new corner
drugstore. A church festival. They certainly weren't the
cutting-edge investigative journalism pieces she longed to do,
but she understood that she had to work her way up to the more
interesting areas.

She didn't like it, but she understood it.

And ever curious, she managed to stumble onto a pretty big
scandal, involving rigged games and kickbacks, at a prestigious
suburban high school while she was covering a junior varsity
basketball game. Her special hearing helped tremendously, but her
developing sense for news and her excellent observation skills
were what clued her in to the story in the first place.

She carefully and meticulously documented everything she
discovered, presenting the information to the Daily Planet's
legendary editor-in-chief, Perry White, when she had ample proof
to back up her story. She'd already learned, in the short time
she'd been there, that he expected his reporters to deliver 'hard
facts, not supposition.'

Mr. White -- he preferred Perry or Chief -- commended her
initiative at the morning staff meeting, and he put her story on
the front page. It was allotted only a small corner, with most of
the article continued inside, but it was still the front page.

Lois was absolutely thrilled to see her byline, 'by Lois Lane,'
on the *front page* of the Daily Planet.

Mr. White began to assign her stories with a little more grit to
them. And Lois thrived on the work. Finally, she was beginning to
achieve her dream -- beginning to fight those dragons.

-----

There was only one thing that was unpleasant about her entire
internship experience.

It began when she unintentionally attracted the attention of a
reporter named Claude Rochert. He was a handsome man in his early
thirties, with a suave and sophisticated, almost courtly manner.
He spoke with a French accent and was somewhat of a flirt. He
seemed quite friendly, had a keen sense of humor, and appeared to
be well liked. Many of the women at the Planet gushed over him. 

Lois wasn't interested in him at all. Not only had she decided
long ago that it was too dangerous for her to have any
relationship, but Claude in particular she found just a little
bit too… oily. There was something about his bantering that
didn't ring completely true, and her natural shyness and the
caution she'd cultivated all her life kept her from responding to
his overtures.

Instead of leaving her alone, however, he began to seek her out,
paying her extravagant compliments and hinting that he was
interested in a relationship with her.

Lois had no experience with this sort of thing. In high school
and college, she'd been very much a loner. She had acquaintances,
and would sometimes study with a loosely knit group of both male
and female fellow students. But she had established a reputation
for being somewhat standoffish early on. The few young men who
had expressed any personal or romantic interest in her were
firmly rebuffed.

Claude, however, didn't seem to take the hint.

Her resolve to avoid him was strengthened when she overheard him
one afternoon. He was speaking to Ralph, a sleazy reporter who
had already been reprimanded several times, so the office gossip
went, for incorrect behavior toward female members of the staff.

Her attention was caught when she heard her name.

"…Lane. You know, that hot little intern?" It was Claude's
voice. He and Ralph were sitting at Ralph's desk at the back of
the bullpen, far enough away that no one could hear them. No one
with normal hearing, anyway.

Unfortunately, Lois's hearing certainly wasn't normal.

Ralph snorted -- a singularly unappealing sound. "Her? Man,
you're not *really* considering -- "

"But of course I am!" Claude interrupted him with a laugh. "Have
you looked at her lately?"

"Buddy, she may be stacked, but she is *cold*," Ralph argued. "I
bet even you can't get her in the sack." Lois, head bent over the
article she was editing, fought a shudder.

"…It is just a matter of time, my friend," Claude replied
expansively.

"What, did you get a date with her?" Ralph asked, his voice
tinged with something that made Lois's skin crawl.

"Not yet, mon ami," Claude said, "but I will. She will not be
able to resist my… shall we say, my charm?" He laughed nastily.
"She has been giving me the cold shoulder, but I believe I shall
be able to… *persuade* her to… see things my way."

"You better watch that if you mean what I think you mean," Ralph
said. "I almost got canned for trying something like that."

"You, my friend, went about it without my flair," Claude replied
with a laugh.

"Yeah, but what if the broad tells?" Ralph asked sourly. "All I
did was… let the kid know I appreciated her… assets. And the
little b- "

"You should not use force. Not in the beginning," Claude
interrupted him. "No," he continued with a laugh, "first you…
seduce them. With words, with charm. With alcohol. Once you get
them softened up, once you are alone with them, you can…
*override*… any objections they might have. Women often say 'no'
when they mean 'yes,' I have found."

Lois was unable to prevent a shudder at his words. Was he saying
-?

"Well, what if they *do* mean it, and they tell?' Ralph
persisted. "I think you're playing with fire, no matter how much
fun it must be."

"Whom would Perry White believe?" Claude asked with an ugly
laugh. "I -- I am beloved of all of the Planet's matrons. I am
polite -- something which might net *you* more positive results,
my friend. Again, I ask you -- whom would he believe? Whom *did*
he believe? The word of an unknown, an immature college girl who
dressed in tight jeans and obviously must have had a crush on his
established reporter? Or the reporter, who has had no breath of
scandal linked to him in all these years? One who sorrowfully
admitted that he had perhaps not been vigilant enough to avert
the girl's misguided interest? A girl who obviously had no
staying power if she could quit in the middle of her
internship…"

Lois felt ill. Whom were they talking about? Had Claude done
this before? To an intern?

"And there are… ways to discourage complaints," Claude
continued. "If this one isn't cooperative… there is the alcohol,
for instance. And threats to a reporting future with the Planet.
Unprofessional conduct, you know," he said as Ralph laughed. "A
few well-chosen words will knock the confidence right out of
her."

"She's the original ice maiden, buddy," Ralph said. "I don't
think it's gonna happen."

"Ah, but this one has an extra… how shall I describe it? A flair
for news. She is only an intern and Perry has already put her on
the front page. This one -- I can… become a mentor, if you will.
Offer advice…"

"Huh. Sleep with her and steal her story, you mean."

"I prefer to think of it as more of a… collaboration. I am the
reporter. I present Perry with a superb story. And I
magnanimously offer to put this intern under my byline, for her
help. Again, whom will he believe?"

"She's already got a front-pager," Ralph argued. "Why wouldn't
she have another one all on her own?"

"A disappointed and distressed assertion that she has… borrowed
my story… should do the trick," Claude said with a laugh.

Lois had to force herself to stay calm. To carefully loosen her
grip on the computer mouse before she crushed it.

It wasn't going to happen. It was *not* going to happen. To her,
or to anyone else, either, if she had anything to do with it.

This creep had *no* idea whom he was dealing with.

He couldn't hurt her -- physically -- and now that she was warned,
he couldn't hurt her emotionally either.

And alcohol didn't affect her. She'd learned that on the very
few occasions she'd joined a crowd of students at one of the
campus haunts. It was another reason young men found her somewhat
intimidating -- she could apparently drink them under the table.
She never deliberately drank large amounts of alcohol on purpose,
but there had been a few times when a group of students would
share several bottles of wine after an exam. Lois never got tipsy
when the others did. Nobody ever questioned it -- they just teased
her about her excellent metabolism.

When Mr. White stepped out of his office and called the first
warning to start wrapping up stories for the day, Claude stood
and began heading back to his own desk. As he passed Lois's desk,
he gave her a wink and what appeared to be a friendly smile.

She looked down quickly to hide the revulsion she wasn't sure
she could conceal. Claude would probably interpret it as shyness
on her part.

That was fine with her, if it meant she didn't have to speak to
him.

The first thing she was going to do tonight when she left the
Daily Planet was buy a miniature tape recorder. The good kind
with the background noise filter, so she could be sure of a high
quality recording even from the depths of a pocket. And the
device was going to reside in *her* pocket at all times.

She'd get the jerk on tape and expose his true nature to Mr.
White.

-----

Over the next few days, Lois contemplated how to bring this
particular dragon down.

She didn't think she could accept any sort of date with Claude.
She wasn't that good an actress. However, given what she'd heard,
she suspected that even if she continued to remain unmoved by his
advances, he would become bolder. Especially if she appeared to
have a story he wanted.

He was already beginning to show an increased interest in the
stories she was working on. And chillingly, he was very
convincing. If she hadn't heard him talking to Ralph, she might
very well have taken his comments and questions as a genuine
desire to help her.

So what should she do?

Patience wasn't really Lois's strong suit; used to fending for
herself, she'd developed a tendency to make decisions quickly.

But when it came to investigative journalism, she was already
learning that thoroughness and patience were her greatest allies.
Other than her special… advantages, of course.

She had worried, when she'd started her internship, that she
would somehow be cheating if she used her abilities to help her
get a story. She was learning quickly, however, that a lot of
investigative journalism involved slogging through large amounts
of information or research, or waiting for something to happen.

Waiting for your quarry to show during a stakeout.

Waiting for your source to confirm or deny something.

Waiting while your editor went over your story.

Any extra advantages she had -- her enhanced senses, her speed,
her strength -- were perfectly acceptable as long as she followed
the rules. As long as she only used her abilities to help her
fight the dragons.

To expose corruption.

To do the right thing.

To report truthfully and fight for justice.

So… she would continue to work on her assigned stories, while
she waited for Claude to act.

If -- when -- that happened, she would be ready for him.

-----

By the end of the week, Lois was ready to scream.

She'd finished researching one of the two stories Mr. White had
assigned her. She had written it, proofread it, and submitted it
for editing.

The other story was giving her some trouble. It was supposed to
be a straightforward story about some innovative amenities and
programs a local nursing home was offering its residents. But she
had encountered some strange undercurrents of… something when
she'd attempted to augment her interview with the director by
talking to some of the nursing staff.

She couldn't ignore her instincts, even though the deadline Mr.
White had given her was looming. What she'd overheard whispered
among some of the staff seemed to indicate that there might be
something illegal going on, although she hadn't figured out what
it was yet. She was planning to go back to the facility again at
least once more. If she couldn't get anyone to talk to her, she
would have to resort to a stakeout with assistance from her
special vision and hearing.

And on top of the increased amount of time the investigation was
taking, she had to deal with Claude, who was practically in her
pocket these last few days. Every time she turned around, it
seemed, he was there watching, or asking if she needed help or
advice.

She had to keep playing dumb about his true nature. She had to
be pleasant in order to catch him, but she was finding it harder
to conceal both her revulsion and her irritation. Was irritation
enough of an excuse to just deck the creep and get it over with?

She sighed. Not if she wanted to bring him down.

Claude leaned against the edge of her desk. "You look
frustrated, cherie," he said, his voice soft with what she knew
was false concern. "A story that is not turning out so well?
Perhaps you can talk it over, hmmm? I would be happy to assist
you, if you wish."

Lois forced herself to loosen her grip on her pen. It wouldn't
do to break it in half in front of him.

Decision time. Politely rebuff him, as she had been doing
regularly? Or offer him bait in the form of a possible story?

"Um…" she said, stalling for time. She shot a quick glance at
him, using her increased speed. He was staring at her chest, and
the expression on his face was purely predatory. As she brought
her head up again at normal speed, he raised his eyes to her face
and smoothed his expression in a manner so practiced that had she
really been the naïve college student he supposed her to be, she
would have missed the moment entirely.

Okay. That did it.

"Well, there's this story Mr. White gave me," she began. She
heard his pulse rate quicken. "It's supposed to be an
informational article on this nursing home, but I think there
might be something going on there. I was going to go back and
talk to the staff again…"

He sat on the edge of her desk and leaned in, reaching for her
notes. "May I?" he asked with smiling charm, "I may be able to
find something you have overlooked." 

She fought the twin urges to lean back well away from him, and
to knock him into next Tuesday.

"Well, I might have to do a stakeout," she continued. "I thought
I might wait for the shift change, you know? And ask a few
questions."

"Would you like me to accompany you?" he asked, all solicitude
and apparent sincerity. "I am concerned for your safety,
cherie."

Lois looked down quickly. She couldn't do this. In a moment, he
was going to realize it wasn't shyness he was dealing with. She
clenched her hand under her desk, and felt the pen she still held
give way. Rats. Now she'd also have to deal with spilled ink.

"Claude!" Mr. White bellowed. To Lois, his gruff voice sounded
better than a chorus of angels. "Take Eduardo and get over to
Tenth Street. There's a bakery on fire. News, people! I want
news!"

Lois exhaled softly in relief as Claude stood smoothly. "Duty
calls, cherie," he said, already moving away. "You must take
extra care tonight, and return safely. Perhaps I shall see you
here tonight, once you have the information you seek? I can
assist you in laying out your facts?"

Sure, apparently, of his impending conquest, he didn't wait to
hear her assent. Which was just as well, since she wasn't sure
she'd have been able to speak just then.

Carefully, she stood and dropped the mangled pen into her
trashcan, then turned toward the ladies' room. She needed a
moment alone, and glancing ruefully at her hand, she noted that
she also needed some soap and water.

-----

It turned out to be a protection racket.

She was lucky enough to find two staff members leaving at the
end of their shifts who were willing to talk to her. Once she
knew what she was looking for, she was able to hover -- literally
- and listen in on the director's activities.

The director had a gambling problem and had borrowed money from
some unsavory sources. Money that he was unable to pay back. Now
he was being threatened, and he had resorted to taking funds from
the nursing home to pay the debt. He'd also begun to steal
medications intended for the patients -- specifically, narcotics -
to sell.

The voice-activated recorder she'd bought came in handy when,
around midnight, the director met with a couple of burly and
threatening-looking men at the side door of the nursing home, an
area sheltered from prying eyes by a dumpster and a row of tall
bushes. Lois silently drifted down far enough to set the recorder
on a windowsill above the men's heads, then sat on the roof and
listened in. After the clandestine meeting, when the thugs had
left and the director had retreated into the building, Lois
retrieved her recorder.

Her luck held. On a hunch, she quietly explored two closed
cardboard boxes near the top of the almost-full dumpster. They
were full of pages entitled 'Medication Administration Record,'
for scores of different patients. The two staff members she'd
spoken to earlier had said that there were falsified records in
some of the charts. These, then, were probably the originals.
Lois didn't know why the director hadn't shredded them, but now
they'd be evidence.

-----

As an intern, Lois was supposed to let Mr. White know where she
was if she was out of the office on Planet business. Normally,
interns didn't do stakeouts, either. Lois, however, wasn't an
ordinary intern.

She had suspected that he would either try to stop her stakeout
plans or send a seasoned reporter with her. However, she didn't
want to share her story with someone else, especially if they
hadn't done an equal share of the work. And of course, going
alone meant she could fly to the nursing home, and hover over it
if necessary while listening and looking.

So when she stopped at her apartment to change clothes before
starting her stakeout, she'd sent him a quick email:

<><><><><><><>

Mr. White,

I've picked up some odd undercurrents in my interviews with some
of the nursing staff while researching the City Life article on
Lifecare Nursing and Rehab. I'm getting the strong impression
that there may be some sort of illegal activity involved. Since
the article is due tomorrow, I'm going over there tonight to sort
of look things over and talk to some of the staff at the shift
change. I'll send you more information as soon as I finish
there.

Lois Lane

<><><><><><><>

He couldn't stop her from going on the stakeout, she had
reasoned, if he didn't know about it until it was too late. She'd
been sure -- pretty sure -- that she wouldn't get into *too* much
trouble with him if she was able to deliver a good story.

-----

After the stakeout, she returned first to her apartment, where
she wrote out, at the fastest speed her computer keyboard could
handle, a rough outline of her story and emailed it to Mr.
White.

She wouldn't normally send the editor an unfinished story, but
the date of transmission of the two emails would prove the story
was hers -- especially since her stakeout had occurred while
Claude was covering the downtown fire.

Then she returned to the Daily Planet to properly finish the
story.

---

It was very late -- or very early, depending on one's point of
view -- when she arrived at the Planet.

The morning edition had gone to print several hours ago, but
there were still a few people in the newsroom. As sometimes
happened, there were a couple of day staff finishing up stories
for the following day. And there was always a night crew, of
course, although they usually didn't stay in the bullpen. There
was a smaller 'command center' adjoining the research room that
worked better for a skeleton crew; it had several computers and a
printer, scanner, and fax machine, as well as a police-band
scanner, all of which were closer at hand than in the main
newsroom.

Lois began by diagramming her story on paper, as she'd been
taught.

Mr. White preferred that his reporters begin their stories with
diagrams or outlines on paper, the way it had been done for
years. He didn't object to the computers for the final drafts --
most stories were submitted to him via computer. If a story
required corrections, he usually printed it out and wrote on it
with his blue pencil -- again, just the way it had been done for
years. He subscribed to the theory that seeing their errors in
color, on paper, made the corrections more likely to stick in his
reporters' minds.

So Lois created a diagram for her story, just as she always did.
But this time, since there wasn't anyone close enough to see, she
did it much faster than humanly possible.

She wanted to have the story written and safely submitted to Mr.
White before Claude showed up.

Next, she retrieved the rough outline of her story, which she'd
copied to her Planet email address when she'd sent it to Mr.
White. After a quick look around to make sure she was still
unobserved, she again used her special speed to swiftly but
thoroughly go over it, crafting it into a readable story. Then
she sent it to the editor's story submission drop box.

Once the story was safely filed, she returned to the story
diagram and rough draft. She needed to appear to be working on
it, just in case...

And sure enough, she'd been sitting there for only a short while
before Claude showed up.

"Hello, cherie," he said, hovering over her like a predatory
bird. "I've been watching for you." Lois repressed a shudder.
"How was your stakeout?" he continued in his best
concerned-mentor voice. "Do you need some help?"

"No, thanks," her mouth said before her brain engaged.

It didn't matter. Claude pulled up a chair and sat beside her -
too close -- and demanded, "Show me what you have so far." 

He leaned in even further and began to read her rough draft over
her shoulder.

It was a good thing she was invulnerable; she bit the inside of
her mouth so hard in an effort to restrain herself that she would
have drawn blood otherwise. She dropped her right hand -- out of
sight since Claude was sitting on her left -- into her jacket
pocket and pressed the power button on the concealed recorder,
happy that she'd spent the extra money for the added features.
The background noise filter meant she'd get a clean recording
even from the depths of her pocket, and the voice activation
thingy would ensure that she wouldn't have long stretches of
silence when she listened to it later.

"This is very good for a first outline," he said, resting his
hand on her shoulder as he leaned forward to pick it up. It had
the same information she'd already sent Mr. White, but Claude
wouldn't know that. "But I can help you polish it. Perhaps we can
go someplace quiet?"

"No, thank you," she managed to say politely, and glanced at him
swiftly, catching the thinned lips and flash of annoyance he
quickly concealed. He was being very pushy, and probably wouldn't
have backed off if they were not at the Planet. Even though there
were very few people around at this time of night to witness
anything.

She was not going *anywhere* with him. Still, she needed to set
her first trap for him -- to give him the opportunity to help
himself to her story. She hadn't really worked out how she would
get the rest of it -- his refusal to accept that 'no' meant 'no' -
yet, anyway.

Deliberately, she moved away from him, closing the folder
containing her story and notes, and then tucked it into her top
desk drawer.

"I think I've got everything I need," she continued, pushing her
chair back far enough to stand up. Claude rose with her as she
said, "I'm tired, Claude -- I'm going to go home. I think I'll
finish the story tomorrow, after the staff meeting, and then give
it to Mr. White."

Claude took her hand and raised it to his lips. She fought
another shudder. "Sleep well, cherie," he said caressingly as he
stepped back. "I would like to see you home, but unfortunately, I
still have some work to do."

< Yeah -- like helping yourself to my story. > She forced herself
to smile at him. She slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and
deactivated the tape recorder. She didn't have anything
incriminating, but their conversation might help establish that
the story belonged to her.

"Well, goodnight…" she said, and moved toward the elevator.
Glancing back at him, she saw he was watching her. She stepped
through the doors and saw him turn away. At top speed, she
pressed the 'close door' button, waited for the door to close at
least halfway, then zipped out of the elevator. Moving too fast
to be seen, she sped into the stairwell, opening the stairway
door just far enough to slip through and immediately pushing it
closed again.

Scanning through the door, she watched him glance around, then
boldly open her desk drawer and remove the folder.

"Gotcha, you creep," she whispered, and sped up the stairwell to
the roof.

-----

Lois arrived at the Planet just before the morning staff
meeting, which was held in the larger of the Planet's two
conference rooms. She dumped her bag in the bottom drawer of her
desk, and then made a quick scan of the newsroom. Claude was
nowhere in sight. She pulled the top drawer of her desk open,
confirming what she already knew -- her story was missing.

The meeting started slightly later than usual -- Mr. White had
been upstairs with the 'suits' -- but otherwise proceeded as
normal. Claude still hadn't arrived. Mr. White said nothing about
Lois's story, although she assumed Claude had turned it in
already -- he would have wanted to do so before she had a chance
to discover it was gone.

Of course, if Claude had turned it in this morning, after
fleshing it out to look like it was his work, Mr. White might not
have read it yet. In the normal course of things, the morning
meeting addressed ongoing and follow-up stories, and Mr. White
spoke individually to reporters after editing anything they
submitted during the day.

"That's it, people!" The editor's voice ending the meeting
brought Lois out of her reverie. "Get out there and get me some
news!" he continued in his usual motivate-the-writers bellow.

There was the customary general rush of pushed-back chairs, a
gathering of papers and coffee cups and half-finished donuts, and
a semi-orderly mass exodus from the conference room, while one or
two Planet employees approached Mr. White for 'a quick word' or a
question. The room cleared rapidly as each employee hurried back
to his or her desk to start the day's assignments.

Lois exited with the others and returned to her desk, sat down,
and booted up her computer. She'd jotted notes in the margins of
the morning assignment handout during the meeting; now would be a
good time to look those over again. But it was hard to
concentrate on anything other than her story.

Now what? Did she go to Mr. White? Wait for him to call her into
his office?

And where was Claude? Had he given Mr. White her story? Lois
didn't like feeling directionless, and she was bursting with the
need to *act*, to wrap up this particular situation. Where *was*
Claude? Out on a story, perhaps?

Was she… had she misjudged him? But no -- she'd *seen* him take
her story. She'd *heard* his comments to Ralph.

She sighed, and tried again to concentrate on the information
listed on her handout.

"Lois!" Mr. White's voice, booming across the newsroom at his
usual volume, actually managed to startle her. "My office,
please!"

Her heart started to pound. Was this it? There was no way of
knowing from the tone of his voice. Everyone in the newsroom was
used to his bellow, to his method of managing his reporters from
the doorway of his office, and his usual manner of addressing
whatever reporter he needed to speak to. There was nothing
unusual about his summons whatsoever.

She rose and headed for his office.

---

Mr. White was seated at his desk when she stepped through the
doorway. She'd already scanned quickly through the office walls,
even though she knew Claude wasn't there.

"Yes, Mr. White?" she asked, stopping near the chairs in front
of his desk. He had papers spread out over almost the entire
surface, and even had a stack of papers balanced on the top of
his computer monitor. There was a Daily Planet coffee cup filled
with blue pencils positioned within easy reach of his right
hand.

"Sit down, please," he said gruffly. As she sank into the chair
closest to her, he rose to his feet, crossed to the office door
and closed it, and returned to his own chair. "And you know you
can call me Chief, don't you?" he continued. "Or Perry. 'Mr.
White' makes me feel like I ought to be looking over my shoulder
for my father." He smiled at her and leaned back in the chair,
giving the impression of laid-back ease.

But she knew he was anything but lazy. Mr. White -- Perry -- was a
sharp old news-hound who missed very little that went on around
him. The slow drawl and easy manner had probably netted him more
information from interviewees -- both willing and unwilling --
over the years than anyone imagined.

Sobering, he looked at her for a moment, then said, "I read your
emails last night. I'm not sure if I should start by explaining -
*again* -- that you are an *intern*. We don't send interns on
stakeouts." He straightened up and fixed her with a stern eye.
"Not to mention the potential liability involved in something
that could potentially be dangerous, there's the whole issue of
the fact that interns are *students*, not seasoned reporters."

He ran his hand through his hair, dislodging the pencil he'd
tucked behind his ear, and smiled at her again. "Aw, hell, never
mind. You're like I was at your age -- you've got a rare talent
and you're *not* just another intern. We both know you're gonna
do things your way. Just -- try to be careful, Lois. And I want to
know what you're planning if -- when -- you sniff out another
story that involves extra-office activity, you hear?" he told her
sternly. He didn't give her time to respond, but continued in a
more serious tone of voice.

"I also read your rough draft story." He looked at her sharply,
but she said nothing, waiting instead to see what else he had to
say. "While I was somewhat surprised to see a rough draft appear
in my correspondence in the middle of the night, I had a few…
suspicions as to why you would suddenly submit an unfinished
story to me." At her start of surprise, he smiled again, but this
time it was more of a grimace than a true smile. "I think you
know what I'm about to say. But you know, I didn't become editor
of the world's best newspaper because I can yodel."

Picking up a sheet of paper in front of him, he looked at her
for a moment, then said, "You know that Claude Rochert presented
me with an extremely well-written story first thing this
morning?"

"Mr. White -- Chief," she started, but Perry continued before she
could say anything more.

"It was a story I recognized, Lois. Written in a style I
recognized. Not only because it said -- almost word for word -
what the story by Lois Lane I found in my submissions drop box
this morning said, but because Claude doesn't… shall we say,
*usually*? -- write in quite that style." Holding up his hand to
forestall her as she opened her mouth, he continued, "I commented
on the different style. Thought I'd give the man a fair chance to
let me know all about how you'd partnered up with him for this
story that I'd assigned to *you*."

"Perry," she began, totally forgetting to call him either Mr.
White or Chief.

"Now, darlin', I *know* that was your story. *Yours*. I know you
didn't team up with Claude, Lois. That's what you were going to
say, wasn't it?" Perry asked her gruffly.

"Yes," she said simply.

Perry leaned back in his chair. "You know, I've had my
suspicions over the past year or two," he mused, swiveling his
chair slightly back and forth as he gazed at her. "But I could
never pin anything on the man. I think he did this to another
intern, you know -- although I don't have any proof. His story -
pretty believable -- was that she'd developed a crush on him, and
that *she* tried to steal *his* story. And she wouldn't talk. She
left the Planet in the middle of her internship, though. Ended up
at the Metropolis Star after she graduated."

He leveled his gaze on her. "Claude Rochert presented your
information, your story, as his own work, Lois. When I confronted
him, he had a lot of unpleasant things to say. Suffice to say I
don't believe any of it, and because you managed to prove beyond
any doubt that you have a prior claim to the work in question, he
has been suspended without pay. However, you will probably have
to face him at an inquiry meeting, which I'm afraid is necessary
in a situation like this. Can you do that?"

She looked him straight in the eye. "Yes, I can," she stated,
and relaxed at his smile.

"Good girl," he said softly, clearly not expecting her to hear
him. Strangely, the comment -- and his earlier use of 'darlin' --
didn't upset her. It was simply Perry's southern upbringing, and
she knew it was unintentional and not intended as any sort of
condescension or harassment. Her mind flashed briefly back to her
childhood years, contrasting Sam's reserved manner with this
man's natural, if blustery, warmth.

---

After a few comments related specifically to her story, Perry
told her he had sent it on to layout. It hadn't made the front
page of the paper, but he was placing it on the front page of the
city section.

"Good work, Lois," he told her, and after a reminder that he
would keep her updated on the progress of the upper management's
inquiry, and a quick explanation of what the inquiry would
involve, he dismissed her back to her desk. An independent team
would now go back through Claude's entire submission file,
looking carefully at writing styles and matching handwriting
samples to any handwritten notes or rough drafts. Anything
questionable would be set aside for further study. Perry had also
mentioned that in accordance with ASNE policy, the situation
would be reported to the Kerth Award committee. The committee
would conduct its own inquiry; if Claude's winning story turned
out to be someone else's work, his Kerth would be revoked.

For her part, Lois intended to try to track down any former
partners Claude had worked with, as well as the intern Perry had
mentioned. If Claude had done this before, his victim -- or
victims -- deserved a chance for justice.

First stop, then -- the personnel department, for the name of
last year's intern. And any partners Claude may have had -
although, on reflection, perhaps the best source for names would
be Perry.

Then she'd take a quick look through some of Claude's work. The
Daily Planet's morgue -- its reference library -- wouldn't help her
there, but the stacks -- located one floor above the newsroom -
should have every article he'd ever written for the Planet. A
little judicious use of her enhanced speed would allow her to get
an overall picture of his writing style -- and any discrepancies -
in a very short period of time.

---

The morgue had outgrown its original space in the Daily Planet
building's basement and had been relocated to the same floor as
the stacks a few years ago. It had been laid out like a small but
conventional library, down a short hallway from the elevators.

The stacks themselves, directly across from the elevators, were
more crowded, although the entire area had been modernized
somewhat. Like the newsroom, there was a second level -- a loft --
along one wall. Shelves of bound issues -- the more current ones
-- were arranged in rows on both levels, with a few desks and
tables, bearing computer terminals, interspersed throughout.
There were also two microfiche machines for viewing the older
issues, and a huge cabinet containing decades of microfiche
archives.

There was an ongoing project to computerize the entire archive,
but with a newspaper of the Daily Planet's caliber, the project
would take several years. The Planet's computer system made it
easy to find articles in past issues, allowing searching by
author, subject, title, and date of publication, which eliminated
the need for attendants in the stacks or the morgue. Once all of
the back issues were added to the database, there would be little
need for the actual paper copies. Many newspapers around the
country were getting away from the physical storage of back
issues.

Lois had climbed the stairs to the loft and was sitting at one
of the desks toward the back, looking through some bound copies
of the paper from the previous April, when she heard the elevator
doors open. She'd found she couldn't look through the shelves
very clearly. It was a problem she'd encountered once or twice
before, and since it had only occurred with the walls of older
buildings, she thought it might have something to do with the
paint. Older paints had often contained lead, and she knew that
conventional x-rays were blocked by lead. It might be the same
with the x-ray-ish part of her special vision.

She could hear just fine, though, so she listened to the
footsteps for a moment; it wouldn't do for someone to see her
doing her version of speed-reading. Whoever it was headed toward
the morgue, though, so she went back to the article in front of
her.

Several other people came and went as she worked her way
backward through increasingly older issues. Beyond listening
briefly to determine each person's direction, she didn't pay much
attention to them. The stacks were rarely used, so she wasn't
*too* concerned that anyone would see her decidedly unusual
abilities. The morgue was a more common destination, especially
for the researchers and students.

By the time she'd moved to the microfiche files, traffic to and
from the morgue had slowed down considerably.

Since it was lunchtime, she probably had the floor to herself.
As she finished re-filing an envelope of microfiche film, having
already selected a new one, she heard someone climbing the stairs
to the loft. Probably someone with a message from Perry. He'd
agreed to make her a list of the reporters he'd partnered with
Claude over the years, and he'd given her the green light to look
through the stacks. But he had warned her that he'd probably have
another story assignment for her in the afternoon. She hadn't
heard the elevator, so it was probably one of the young men from
research or one of the younger reporters whose world outside of
the Planet revolved around physical fitness, sports, or
bodybuilding. Several of them ran stairs during their lunch
breaks.

Funny that whoever it was hadn't called her name in order to
locate her more quickly, though.

She sat down and gathered up the new set of microfiche films
from the table. Time to put them away, too. She'd managed to go
through quite a few of Claude's articles already, anyway -- enough
to note his general style of writing, and to note that sometimes
it seemed to… change. Once she got her afternoon assignment,
she'd ask Perry for his list of names.

As the man -- the tread was too heavy to be a woman -- rounded the
corner of the shelves to where she was sitting, she finished
tucking the films into their envelope and looked up with a
smile.

It was Claude.

And it was obvious that he was extremely angry.

Beyond angry.

She stood and moved back from the table, keeping it between
them. Without really thinking about it, she dropped her hand to
her pocket and hit the switch on the little recorder.

As he advanced on her, he hissed, "You set me up, you little
bi-." He abruptly switched to French, apparently finding it
easier to curse at her in his native language.

"You'd better watch what you say, Claude," she said, hiding her
nervousness behind a belligerent tone of voice. "You're already
on some pretty shaky ground, you know."

She'd been expecting some sort of reaction from Claude after her
meeting with Perry, but this was still completely unexpected.
She'd thought she might get an angry phone call from him, or that
she might encounter him outside the Planet. Or that he might
somehow show up at her apartment or something.

After Perry's announcement of his suspension, she hadn't
expected to see Claude inside the Planet at all. And she hadn't
even considered that he might try anything in the middle of the
day. But he certainly didn't look like he wanted to have a cozy
chat.

He came around the end of the table, and she had to decide
quickly -- stand her ground? *She* was in the right, after all. Or
back up? Her feet took her backwards even as the thought flashed
through her mind.

She wasn't afraid of Claude -- she knew he couldn't hurt her
physically. But she'd never been in a close and heated
confrontation with another person. Never had anyone hissing
invective -- a continuous stream of vile French hate words -- at
her with such venom.

She wasn't afraid of him, but she wasn't feeling very calm. For
the first time in her life, she understood exactly why that surge
of adrenaline was called a 'fight or flight' reaction. 

The Lanes had handled almost everything -- even most of their
fights -- with reserve. Freezing politeness, icy distain, and cold
silences -- those she knew. As she'd grown older, there'd been
more raised voices and insults, but even those had usually been
conducted at a level no more intense than a heated political
debate. This -- she suspected it could get pretty ugly.

He'd stopped at the chair she'd been sitting in, and was
gripping its back so tightly his knuckles were white. She wasn't
completely sure he wouldn't pick it up and throw it at her.

"You took my story." She decided direct confrontation was her
best option. "You're getting what you deserve. You *stole* it
from me, Claude. If anyone, *I* should be the angry one."

He laughed nastily. "I don't know how you found out about it
ahead of time, but you did, and you set me up." He broke off to
curse at her again, stepping forward around the chair, and she
decided she'd had enough.

Moving around the end of the table with the idea of putting it
between them again, she was unprepared for his lunge. He grabbed
her arms just above her elbows, his momentum knocking her
backward against the nearest shelves.

Reflexively she yanked away from him, smacking her head against
the edge of a shelf. If she hadn't been invulnerable, she'd have
been seeing stars and the battle would have been over. As it was,
she yanked again and twisted sideways, breaking his hold. She ran
for the stairs, only her lifelong habit of hiding her unique
abilities keeping her at a human pace.

And this was something she hadn't considered at all -- how could
she fight him off without giving her secret away?

Claude caught her again at the stairs, slamming her into the
railing with the full force of his weight behind him. As she
twisted again, trying to break his grip, he grabbed a handful of
her hair at the base of her neck. Yanking her head back
viciously, he pulled back from the railing and shook her
violently, his other hand wrapped around her upper arm.

"I got suspended because of you, you little -" he snarled,
dropping back into French.

"Claude -" she began, grasping his wrists, but he cut her off.

"I may even lose my job! You are worth nothing, do you hear?" he
raged. "You should be grateful for my help, put***! And always
you ignore me, put me off!"

How hard to pull? How much force to break his grip, without
giving anything away? The brief pause as she tried to temper her
strength was enough for him to undercut her, sweeping her legs
from under her and following her down, one hand, still gripping
her hair, covering her mouth with cruel force and his weight
pinning her to the floor.

"Now I will take what you have -- " he grunted, beginning to paw
at her skirt, which had become twisted around her thighs. "I will
take what I want from you, and we will see how I break your icy
cold attitude -- when I am done with you your reputation will be
nothing, con****!" Lois had no idea what the French word he spit
at her meant, but his tone was filled with hate.

Regardless of her invulnerability, and of her strength and
speed, Lois was beginning to realize that she was quite possibly
in real danger. She had no idea how to defend herself from this
madman without exposing her secret, but she might not have a
choice.

She twisted and almost managed to dislodge him without any use
of her abilities, but he flung himself further across her, then
let go of her hair and grabbed her breast as he pushed her skirt
to her hips with his other hand. The shock of his hand on her
breast, where no one's hand had ever been, shocked her motionless
for a fraction of a second, and he tightened his grip there,
twisting viciously. Simultaneously, she felt his other hand on
her upper thigh, pushing her legs apart enough to settle between
them and ripping at her hose, then fumbling at his own clothing.

Truly frightened, Lois flexed her arms, about to throw him off
her without any further thought to protecting her secret. But
even as she straightened her arms, his weight was suddenly gone
from her.

Bewildered, she looked up to see Perry, looking ready to kill,
and Eduardo, one of the sports reporters. The heavily muscled
young man had plucked Claude off her by the back of his shirt,
and as Claude rounded on him, Eduardo -- a lunchtime stair-runner
and a body builder -- drew his fist back and slugged Claude
squarely in the jaw.

As Claude slumped in Eduardo's grip, Lois finished tugging her
skirt down over her thighs and shakily scrambled to her feet,
assisted by Perry.

"Are you all right, darlin'?" he asked her urgently. "What did
he… Did he hurt you, honey?"

"No, Perry," she assured him, although she was still trembling
in reaction, "but I'm awfully glad you're here." She *was* glad
to see him -- them -- but neither man needed to know that it was
mostly because her secret was still, in fact, a secret.

How ironic that with all her fantastic abilities, it was Perry -
and Eduardo -- who ended up saving her.

"Eduardo, here, was just leavin' the stairwell after his lunch
break," Perry continued, his southern drawl more pronounced than
usual. "Y'know he runs stairs?" And at her nod, "He saw Claude
comin' up, lookin' like thunder. One of the gals in reception's
been talkin', and word of Claude's suspension -- and why -- has
already spread through the bullpen. So Eduardo asked me where you
were, and we hightailed it up here thinkin' you might need us."

Perry paused, frowning. "Come to think of it, exactly *how* did
Claude know you'd be in the stacks?

"Ralph," Eduardo suggested with disgust.

Perry nodded, scowling. "You're probably right. I've had my eye
on that boy for a while now; it's time I had a serious talk with
him. There've been some complaints from a few women about
inappropriate comments, and I've noticed him and Claude havin'
some cozy chats lately. I wouldn't be at all surprised if it was
Ralph who told him where you were."

Lois turned to Eduardo, who had allowed Claude to slump to the
floor. "Thank you, Eduardo," she told him sincerely, if a bit
shakily. "The words seem inadequate -"

"It's okay, Lois." Eduardo's expression relaxed as he looked at
her. "And you're welcome. I have no tolerance for men who don't
respect women. Not many people see it, but Claude -- obviously -
has a temper. I wasn't expecting him to attack you, but I did
suspect he might get a bit too confrontational for comfort. I'm
just glad I could help."

He looked at Perry. "What do we do with him, Chief? I know you
told Glenda to call the police -" Glenda was the newsroom
secretary; her desk was at the edge of the bullpen closest to
Perry's office. "Do we wait for the police or take him downstairs
with us?"

"You called the police?" Lois asked, surprised.

"We'll wait here." Perry turned to Lois. "Bill Henderson's a
captain with the MPD, and a good man. He's a friend of mine -- our
sons were in school together. I've known him a long time and he
knows how to be discreet."

He looked down at Claude with disgust. "When Eduardo told me
he'd seen Claude headin' upstairs, I had a little hunch we might
need some official help. I told Glenda to send Bill up here when
he arrives. He oughta be here soon."

Perry's 'little hunches' were legend in the newsroom; more often
than not, they'd turned out to be true. If he sent a reporter out
to investigate something because he 'had a hunch' about it, the
Planet usually ended up with good story.

"You will press charges, honey, won't you?" Perry added.

""I have to," she said soberly. "Otherwise -"

"He might do it again," Perry finished as Eduardo nodded in
agreement. He turned as a male voice called his name. "Up here,
Bill," he called. "Straight ahead from the elevator, through the
shelves. We're at the top of the stairs.

Captain Bill Henderson, an attractive man in his mid-forties,
was accompanied by a young plainclothes officer. Between them,
they removed a still-groggy Claude from the scene after taking
brief statements from Perry, Lois, and Eduardo. Captain Henderson
warned Perry and Lois that he'd probably need a more thorough
statement from her, and that he would be in touch.

"C'mon, you two -- we'll take the stairs," Perry said as the
policemen shepherded their stumbling charge into the elevator.

Eduardo paused on the landing outside the newsroom. Turning to
Perry and Lois, he assured them, "You don't have to worry about
my saying anything out of turn."

"I know that, son," Perry replied, as Lois nodded. "But I
appreciate your saying it. This doesn't need to turn into a
circus. As it is, the gossips'll have a field day."

"Thanks again, Eduardo," Lois added. "I -" she stopped. "Thanks
to you and Perry -"

"You're welcome, Lois." Eduardo smiled grimly. "Claude tried to
hit on my wife about a year ago -- she's an interior designer and
her firm did the business offices upstairs when they were
remodeled -- and he was hard to discourage despite her telling him
she was married. He eventually got the message, but I've always
wondered if he'd try something with someone else. I'm glad you're
okay."

He pulled the stairway door open and the three of them entered
the newsroom. Eduardo headed toward his desk while Perry directed
Lois to his office.

He gestured toward one of the chairs in front of his desk as he
rounded the edge of it and dropped into his own chair with a
sigh.

As she sat down, he ran his hand through his hair. "I'm glad
you're okay, Lois." 

With another sigh, he continued, "You know, any complaint is one
complaint too many. I told you earlier about a young intern -- a
bit like you, smart, a lot of promise -- a few years ago. Linda
King. There was an issue with a story and it involved Claude. It
was kinda messy -- they had a short relationship, apparently, and
Claude's take on it was that she'd developed a crush on him and
carried it too far. Her story was different. But I was never able
to get any solid proof of what had happened, and before I could
follow up with a formal investigation of her complaint, she
recanted her story. Quit the Planet in the middle of her
internship."

He shook his head ruefully. "I hear she's workin' for the Star
now -- it's a respectable newspaper but not on a par with the
Daily Planet. I've always wondered what really happened there,
but she wouldn't talk. So the most Claude got was a warning be
more careful to avoid any misunderstandings in the future."

He leveled his gaze on her. "I would never say I'm glad this
happened, but I *will* say I'm glad you will pursue legal
punishment for him. This whole thing might be somewhat messy,
Lois. We'll try to keep it low-key here, but it may be kinda
tough for a while. I know you'd rather report the news than *be*
the news, and you've got my support a hundred percent. If anyone
hassles you over this, you let me know, you hear?"

At her nod, he said, "And Ralph… that boy's gonna be taking a
Planet-sponsored intensive course in sensitivity training, and
I'm gonna be keeping a sharp eye on him. Fortunately, he's not
another Claude, just stupid. We can fix that. I hope. If not, his
future with the Planet is likely to be quite short."

"I'll be fine, Perry. It's like fighting dragons, you know -- not
real pleasant but it has to be done. This is no different than
exposing any other wrongdoing. Just -- it's my story, okay?" She
gave him a cheeky grin.

He laughed. "Atta girl, Lois -- but you come to me if anybody
gives you trouble, young lady." And with a cheeky grin of his
own, he continued, "Now… seems to me you never got that afternoon
assignment I had for you…"

-----

The Daily Planet investigation resulted in a total of seven
stories of questionable authorship. Where possible, former
partners, interns, and research notes would be used to determine
the writer. The independent team also re-examined Claude's
Kerth-winning story, with the result that its authorship was
called into question.

Unfortunately, his partner at the time had been killed in a car
accident shortly before the piece was published, so there was no
way to verify ownership of the article with certainty. Claude was
allowed to keep the award, but its status was changed to
'provisional,' with the Daily Planet itself and both reporters
listed as 'award holders.'

Emboldened by Lois's willingness to testify against Claude, two
other young women at the Planet -- one in the billing department
and one in distribution -- came forward with their own
experiences of Claude refusing to take 'no' for an answer. Both
had kept silent out of fear that they wouldn't be believed. Their
tales were similar: too much alcohol and the belief -- promoted,
apparently, by Claude -- that they were to blame by getting into
a compromising situation.

Faced with assault charges in his attack on Lois, and with the
threat, however thin, of possible further charges in relation to
the other two women, Claude accepted a plea bargain that gave him
some jail time with several years' probation.

-----

The story of the set-up, Claude's attack, and the resultant
charges was told and retold around the newsroom for months, with
varying degrees of accuracy. While the bulk of the staff felt
Claude deserved everything he got, someone coined the title 'Mad
Dog Lane' for Lois -- and it stuck.

She heard the comments, of course, even when she tried not to.
The gossip was not necessarily intended to be cruel, but it
isolated her further from the casual gatherings around the coffee
machine.

Already lonely, Lois began to focus almost exclusively on
searching out stories, determined to be the best investigative
reporter the Planet had. By sheer determination, she was at least
partway toward achieving the goal by the time her internship
ended.

Alone in her apartment, Lois thought long and hard about the
other truth her experience with Claude had demonstrated -- that
while she was, of course, invulnerable, she couldn't always rely
on her special abilities to get her out of trouble. Not unless
she revealed them. She needed something more -- a self-defense
course of some kind. Tae Kwon Do, perhaps? Something that would
help if she were ever in a similar situation.

Needing a sounding board, she mentioned it to Perry. He endorsed
the idea whole-heartedly, and pointed her toward a
Planet-sponsored self-defense course that all of his reporters
were encouraged to take.

He also offered her a job before her internship was even over.
Of course, she had to officially apply for the job after she
graduated, but that was a mere formality.

Based on her performance to that point, he started her as a
junior investigative reporter, even though that wasn't the norm
for a new hire. Inevitably, his decision caused some mild
dissension among some of the other staff members, despite the
fact that she had already demonstrated that Perry's faith was not
displaced. 

Lois couldn't shut off her enhanced hearing completely, so she
heard a lot of the comments and resentment put forth by some of
her coworkers. While she also heard those who defended her
abilities and Perry's decision, the knowledge that some of the
staff resented her made her defensive around them. 

Focused fiercely on her job, unused to casual banter and unable
to blithely share confidences with almost-strangers the way many
of her coworkers did, Lois's reputation as the prickly,
unapproachable Mad Dog Lane was cemented. Intent on becoming the
best she could be, and wary of letting anyone get too close, Lois
herself allowed the illusion.

-----

By the end of her first year of full-time employment, Lois was
already a name to be reckoned with. She was consistently bringing
in quality stories and Perry was allowing her the kind of
latitude he normally reserved for his veteran investigative
reporters.

Shortly after she entered her second year with the Daily Planet,
she was nominated for a Kerth. Unheard of this early in a
reporter's career, her subsequent win surprised everyone -- except
Perry. By the end of her third year, she had a second Kerth under
her belt, and had been promoted to senior investigative
reporter.

Sam and Ellen may have disagreed with Lois's choice of careers,
but they both showed grudging pride when she started winning
awards.

They never really understood how much Lois loved it, though. She
was living a Princess Elizabeth life, making a difference,
fighting dragons and exposing corruption. Forcing change for the
better.

Neither of the Doctors Lane ever understood that. They never saw
the parallels to what *they* considered a noble career, the field
of medicine.

Gradually, the three of them drifted farther apart. Lois saw
Ellen once a month or so, for what had increasingly felt like a
duty lunch. Their ideas and goals were so different that it was
hard to find any common ground. Ellen wanted to see her safe and
settled in a good society marriage, while Lois wanted to keep
fighting dragons.

Sam she saw rarely. He and Ellen had finally divorced when Lois
was in her third year at the university, and he'd moved to New
York. He sent her a card and a check at Christmas each year, and
he usually called when he was in town. They would sometimes meet
for lunch, but neither of them was good at small talk, so their
meetings were uncomfortably stiff and formal.

-----

Lois's days were filled with her investigative work, and she
often worked well into the nights as well. It was only in the
deepest, darkest part of the night, as she was dropping off to
sleep, that she ever allowed herself to acknowledge that she was
lonely.

It was usually a thought she stifled at once. She couldn't
afford to get close to anyone. She needed to accept that
loneliness was just another of her… well, 'gifts' wasn't the
right word. But it was just another thing she did -- unlimited
speed and strength, fire vision, enhanced sight and hearing,
flight, and loneliness -- all part of the package.

She had continued on in Tae Kwon Do, finding that the discipline
necessary for advancing through the different levels also helped
her refine her control over many of her enhanced abilities.

She'd progressed frustratingly slowly at first, fear of
inadvertently exposing her secret in some manner making her
uncharacteristically hesitant. Learning the mechanics of the
different techniques of striking, kicking, and blocking had been
relatively easy, as were the forms -- putting the movements into
specific patterns. Those were done individually, so she could
concentrate fully on learning them.

But the sparring drills had been a problem. The program promoted
increased strength, flexibility, and endurance, and the knowledge
that she already had unlimited strength and endurance had kept
her stiff and awkward while attempting to apply the techniques
with a partner. But Lois Lane never gave up. She had doggedly
overcome every other obstacle she'd ever faced, and she had
resolved that this would be no exception.

After several weeks of her struggling grimly and unsuccessfully
through the drills, her instructor had made the observation,
"You're trying to pit your strength directly against your
opponent; that won't work. You are a small woman, and you would
have no hope of outmatching an assailant on strength alone." 

Not without exposing her secret. 

He'd continued, "Do you know how to dance -- ballroom dancing,
the waltz?" And when she had nodded, "Think of this in the same
way. Let your opponent 'lead'- then allow his own impetus to work
in your favor. Remember the laws of motion -- once he is moving,
his tendency is to continue moving in the same direction.
Changing his direction makes him unstable. So as he shifts, you
simply use his own momentum to do the work for you."

That suggestion, simple as it was, had helped immensely. One of
the many things that the Doctors Lane *had* considered that Lois
should learn was ballroom dancing, and she was quite good at it.
Approaching the sparring not as a combative situation, but as if
it were a dance to be performed, had made all the difference.
Moving with her opponent -- rather than pulling away reflexively
-- allowed her to use his own momentum to break his hold, and to
her delight, flip him almost effortlessly over her shoulder.

Once she'd made that breakthrough, her skill and flexibility had
increased rapidly. She was currently taking three classes per
week: two forty-five minute self-defense classes on Tuesdays and
Thursdays, and a fifty-minute light sparring class on Fridays. In
this, the fourth year of her employment with the Planet and her
fifth year since the incident with Claude, she was at the brown
belt level -- it was the highest student rank at her school. From
this level, she would become a black belt candidate, and
eventually, begin to work her way up through the black belt
ranks.

-----

Eduardo was one of the few people, other than Perry, who didn't
seem intimidated by Lois's Mad Dog reputation. Possibly because
of his role in Lois's confrontation with Claude Rochert --
although neither he nor Lois ever spoke of it -- he treated her
with a casual sort of friendliness that she got from very few
people.

He refused to be drawn into any sort of gossip about her, and
greeted her pleasantly whenever their paths happened to cross.
Since he had been promoted to one of the two senior sports editor
positions shortly after Lois won her first Kerth, that wasn't
very often. His attitude, however, had influenced at least a few
of the newer employees, especially those who had had no or very
little interaction with her.

One such employee was an eager, earnest young man by the name of
Jimmy Olsen. He had been hired as a copy boy, a position that
included running errands and other general gofer work. Now
twenty-one, he had started at the Planet at age nineteen. In
those first years, he spent most of his time delivering paperwork
to different departments for Perry, and very little time with any
of the main newsroom staff.

He had, however, shown a high aptitude for all things
computer-related, a talent that had not only Perry but an
always-increasing number of reporters relying on him for
everything from fixing a balky keyboard to ferreting out
information for a story. And while Jimmy's heart seemed set on
making a career as an investigative photojournalist, he willingly
and cheerfully helped whoever needed him.

Lois had picked up on Jimmy's talents relatively early in his
employment, and did not hesitate to make use of them whenever she
needed to. It was something she did so often after his first year
at the Planet that Perry hired another young man to take his
place as copy boy, and promoted Jimmy to Production Assistant -- a
fancy title that included all of the things he was already
doing.

And since Jimmy had a mild case of hero-worship on the Planet's
star reporter, which she knew and ignored, he now tended to be at
her beck and call. He was, perhaps, the closest thing she had to
a friend at the Planet, although he was clearly intimidated by
her in full Mad Dog mode. But even when he was lying low and
staying out of her way, Jimmy, like Eduardo, obviously respected
her.

He had recently completed a two-year technical college course in
photography, and Perry had allowed him to accompany a couple of
reporters, particularly those on the National and City News
Desks, on one or two occasions. At least twice, the photos Jimmy
took on those occasions made their way into the newspaper.

Right now, he was sitting at the unoccupied desk directly across
from Lois, sorting printouts into stacks for her.

She was currently investigating a series of setbacks at EPRAD -
the Extra Planetary Research and Development agency -- in the
final phases of the deployment of the international Space Station
Prometheus, looking for any indication of shoddy workmanship. A
local philanthropist was offering to finance an alternate space
station, claiming that the current station's construction had
been dangerously underbid and was therefore built with inferior
and unsafe materials.

A sudden racket at the railing near the elevators drew her
attention. Someone was calling her name repeatedly in an
increasingly loud and desperate voice. 

As she looked up, a man stumbled down the ramp toward the
bullpen, his progress so erratic that he bounced off the railing
several times on his way down.

"Miss Lane! Miss Lane!" His volume increased as he caught sight
of her. "I must talk to you! I must tell you my story before they
try to stop me!"

He wore a ragged and stained coat and what was either scrubs or
pajama pants. A threadbare slipper on his left foot and a dirty
gray tennis shoe on his right foot appeared to be the reason for
his unsteady gait. His hair was tangled and unkempt. He had a
large, torn, stained paper bag bulging with papers clutched
tightly in his arms

Ignoring the curious looks from other employees, Lois stood and
stepped around her desk as the security guard caught up with the
man.

"Sorry, Ms. Lane, he got past me," he said apologetically as
they reached her.

"Wait," she said, as the unkempt man pulled away from the
guard's grip and held the bag out to her. "Who are you?"

"Be careful, Ms. Lane," the guard told her urgently. "You don't
know what he has in there!" 

"No, no -- I mean no harm," the ragged man exclaimed. "No, I
need your help to tell my story, Miss Lane. My story, and the
story of Space Station Prometheus and the sabotaged shuttle
flights. I've brought you all of my research notes; you are the
best -" He dumped the bag's contents out on her desk; scraps of
paper, fast food napkins, a torn piece of cardboard, receipt tape
from an adding machine, and a shoebox lid, all of which appeared
to be covered with closely spaced writing, cascaded across the
desk's surface.

By now, a second guard had arrived; between the two of them,
they grasped her unkempt visitor's arms and drew him firmly away
from her. "Do you want us to call the police, Mr. White?" one of
the guards asked Perry, who had exited his office when the
commotion caught his attention.

"Just remove him from my newsroom, Hank," Perry said, and
continued more loudly, "Back to work, people!" He glanced at the
mess on Lois's desk, shook his head wryly, and said to Jimmy,
"Get a garbage can, son," then turned and headed back to his
office.

As the guards started up the ramp with her unexpected visitor,
he pulled ineffectually at their hold, protesting, "Look at my
work, Miss Lane! Please! My name is Samuel Platt -- Professor
Samuel Platt. I live in the Bradner Apartments building. Please
come see me -- I need to show you the proof…" His voice grew
fainter as the guards muscled him into the elevator and the doors
closed behind them.

Lois could hear him reassuring the guards, all the way down in
the elevator, that he meant no harm but needed Miss Lane to tell
his story.

She was still staring thoughtfully after the man when Jimmy
spoke, close by and startlingly loud, and she hurriedly shut out
Samuel Platt's fading voice.

"Boy, that guy is a couple cookies short of a dozen, huh,
Lois?"

"Jimmy," she said abruptly, not acknowledging his comment, "see
what you can find me on Dr Platt, and everything out there on the
Space Station Prometheus shuttle flights, too. And find me a box
for his… research."

"Lois, are you *serious*?" Jimmy exclaimed. "The guy's a
nutcase! I mean, look at this -" He held up the stained and torn
paper bag, still partly full, and more scraps of paper, napkins,
and torn pieces of cardboard fluttered onto the floor at their
feet. "He says these are his 'research notes' -- it looks more
like something a wino would use for a pillow in his cardboard box
down in Suicide Slum! I mean, -"

Lois turned and gave him a mild version of her Mad Dog look, but
it was enough to stop him in mid sentence. "Uh, yeah…" he
stuttered awkwardly. "I'll just… go and… just, you know… see what
I can find…" Still talking disjointedly, he made a fast retreat.

Lois didn't watch him go; instead, she sat at her desk and,
after looking at the mess the man had left, shifted Dr Platt's
papers to the side. More of them cascaded off the edge of the
desk, but she left them where they landed for the time being. She
would have to go through them all, but that was a job probably
best left until she was on her own and unobserved. Hopefully, a
little judicious use of her enhanced speed would help her to read
through all of it and get an idea of what Dr Platt was talking
about.

For now, she was already jotting questions and ideas down as
fast as they occurred to her.

-----

Even with her enhanced speed, Lois found it incredibly slow
going putting Dr. Platt's papers in some semblance of order. Some
scraps had mathematical formulae written on them; it was
difficult to place those in any sort of order. She had better
luck where the man had been merely writing -- piecing straight
narrative together into chronological order was much easier.

She'd been working on it for two nights now, the first night at
the Planet at the end of the day. After that first night, she had
simply shoved it all in the box Jimmy'd found for her and flown
back to her apartment with it. By then, she had been more than
half inclined to believe everyone else's opinion that the man was
some kind of crank. But some sort of instinct -- she couldn't
explain it, but it had served her well in the past -- nagged at
her that regardless of the fact that he looked like a street bum,
he should be taken seriously.

And tonight, finally, she was beginning to see a glimmer of what
the man had been talking about. She still needed much more
information, of course; once she'd slogged her way through his
mess of notes, she would have to talk to him again. 

Lois sighed and leaned back, gazing idly around at Dr. Platt's
bits and scraps and pieces spread out over her living room floor.
She already had several lines of pieced-together notes spread out
in front of the coffee table, stretching to where the kitchen
tile started, but the box was still at least two thirds full. She
needed to find time to devote to this. It was looking like she
would have to get out of the feel-good story Perry had assigned
her for the week -- not that she'd mind, of course.

Everyone, including the investigative reporters, had their share
of 'ordinary' assignments -- non-earthshaking, non-breaking-news
stories. Not even Lois could find scandals twenty-four hours a
day. As a matter of policy, Perry expected every reporter to
research, write and turn in a number of other articles assigned
as he saw fit -- human interest stories, AP news bits, press
releases, etc.

Lois had little interest in those types of stories. She wrote
them grudgingly, and got out of writing them at all whenever she
could. She was continually finding creative ways to dump the
assignments on other reporters, or to get Perry to reassign them.
Her various strategies worked a fair amount of the time because
her instincts for situations worthy of investigating were so
extraordinarily high. Perry recognized that, and quite often
allowed himself to be swayed by her arguments -- but not always.
	
With another sigh, she carefully gathered up the first twenty
feet of Dr. Platt's lined-up research notes and placed them in an
empty shoebox she'd retrieved from her closet. These would need
to go back to the Planet with her tomorrow; she had a number of
things she wanted Jimmy to clarify for her.

-----

Nine hours later, she was sitting at her desk in the newsroom,
studying one of Dr. Platt's scraps. It was covered with a
combination of what appeared -- possibly -- to be hieroglyphics,
and disjointed lines of letters -- only some of which were
recognizable words. She was systematically turning it ninety
degrees, studying it, and then turning it another ninety degrees
and studying it again, on the odd chance that the hieroglyphics
parts might make more sense sideways or upside down. The man's
notes were in such a mess, it was entirely possible he'd started
writing down words in one direction, got distracted, and not
noticed that the scrap had got turned around.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Jimmy's arrival at her desk,
bearing a thick sheaf of printouts.

"Lois, I found some interesting stuff on Space Station
Prometheus," he began. "You know, technical specs, and even a
couple of blueprints. I also found a couple of reports on the
shuttles that they're supposed to be using for transport.
Apparently, they've had a lot of problems with 'em."

She tossed the scrap back into the shoebox. "Thanks, Jimmy. What
about Dr. Platt?" 

"I'm still working on that. Apparently, he was highly respected
at one time. Lately there have been some rumors that he's let
personal problems interfere with his job. But then other sources
- former colleagues -- say he's always been a bit odd but that
he's brilliant."

Lois, only half listening, had began to page through the stack
of printouts he'd laid on her desk. "Well, keep at it, okay?" she
asked, reaching for a pencil.

As Jimmy turned to walk away, he commented, "You know, this Dr.
Platt would normally be the kind of guy I admire -- although it's
hard to believe he's a scientist, having met him. It's only
slightly easier to believe the guy's computer-geek rep."

"What?" Lois asked abruptly, her interest caught.

He turned back. "Huh?"

Somewhat impatiently, she asked, "You said Dr. Platt's a
computer expert? I thought he was an aeronautics and aerospace
scientist."

"Well, yeah… But a lot of those guys really know computers, you
know. This guy apparently did some AI work…"

"Well, I guess the computer thing might explain this." Lois
gestured to the scrap of hieroglyphics at the top of the notes in
the shoebox. "I thought it might be computer code, but I can't
read it."

Jimmy picked it up. "Yeah, it's computer code… Oh, cool! It's
Lisp -- that's like, AI's mother tongue, you know," he said
excitedly.

"Lisp? AI? What's that?"

"It's -- Lisp is -- a computer programming language," Jimmy
began, "It's used in AI -- artificial intelligence -- programming,
among other things. It's been around a long time -- since like the
1950s, I think. It's almost as old as Fortran. It's called Lisp
'cause it's a list-processing language -- get it? L-I-S from
'list' and P from 'processing.' It's also popular with hackers.
It's better than C or C++, actually, because it's extremely
versatile…"

"Jimmy -"
 
"See," he continued, warming to his subject, "it handles complex
data structures more easily than other programming languages,
using list processing, recursion, and character string
manipulation…"

"Jimmy -" She tried again.

He dropped the scrap of paper on the desk and started shuffling
through the printouts he'd given her. "You know, I read an
article that said that a lot of the space shuttles' programs are
written entirely in Lisp… I think I printed it for you; it should
be here somewhere. It said that's one of the main reasons that
the shuttles have managed to reach the runway at all. It also
said the Space Station Prometheus expert environmental and energy
management systems will all be implemented in Lisp, too…"

"Jimmy!" she snapped.

He stopped shuffling through the printouts and looked up at her
with the slightly wary look he often wore when faced with Mad Dog
Lane.

She waved the scrap of computer code impatiently at him. "What
exactly does this computer code do?"

"Uh, I don't know, but I can find out," he answered cautiously.
"All I'd have to do is work through it -- maybe try to run it, you
know…"

"Fine. Do that, okay? I want to know what this does. And why
does Dr. Platt have this in his notes? Did he write it? Is it
part of the shuttle programming, or is it malicious? He said the
shuttles had been sabotaged; what about the space station itself?
Oh, and -"

Jimmy was beginning to look alarmed; she waved the scrap of
paper she still held at him again and took pity on him. "Oh, for
heaven's sake, Jimmy -- go find out what this code thingy does.
I'll find out the rest. Go!"

He went.

---

By the late afternoon, Lois had worked her way through most of
Jimmy's printouts and all of the scraps in the shoebox. Perry had
co-opted Jimmy for something just after noon, so she was still
waiting for information on the computer code. With Jimmy and
computers, however, she'd learned to leave him alone and let him
get the job done, so for now she'd have to be patient.

Dr. Platt had said the shuttle flights had been sabotaged; there
did, indeed, seem to be a higher than average number of mishaps
in the launches, all of which had been aborted so far. It could
be coincidence, of course -- computer malfunctions, human error,
and structural issues had all caused problems for the space
program in the past.

Or there could, in fact, be something going on. She needed to
clear her schedule of Perry's routine little story assignments
and focus on Dr. Platt and his allegations.

It was time to get Perry involved. Unfortunately, he'd seen Dr.
Platt, so she might have to do a fair amount of convincing. She
might as well start right now.

Rising, she headed toward Perry's office.

"Perry, I have to talk to you -" she began before she was even
all the way inside his office.

"Uh, Lois -- Haven't you heard of knocking and waiting to be
invited inside?" Perry drawled, one eyebrow raised questioningly.
"As you can see -- now -- I'm in the middle of an interview here."

It took Lois a moment to switch gears. Caught up in what she
needed Perry to understand, she hadn't thought about whether he
would be busy or not.

She glanced quickly at the man who had risen to his feet as she
entered the room. It was intended to be the quick but
all-encompassing look she usually used to assess someone she was
meeting for the first time. Particularly today, since she had a
bone to pick with the chief, it should have been a lightning
glance, and then back to her own agenda with Perry.

But there was something different this time. There was something
about this man that drew her interest, however reluctantly, and
caused her gaze to linger.

On the face of it, there shouldn't be anything particularly
special about him. About her own age, he was a very good-looking
man -- okay, the most attractive man she'd seen in a long time.
But Lois Lane just didn't react to men that way.

With interest.

At all.

She couldn't risk it.

This man was undeniably attractive. At least six feet tall, he
was well built but not excessively so. He wore glasses with
tortoise-shell frames, which broke up the line of his face. But
she could still see the high cheekbones and the almost
imperceptible slant to his eyes, which hinted, perhaps, at an
Asian ancestor or two. His eyes were dark- probably brown, she
guessed -- and his hair was inky back. While it looked slightly
long, as if he was overdue for a haircut, it wasn't an
unattractive style. Cut it just a bit shorter, get some of that
hair off his forehead and the back of his neck, and he would be
even more devastatingly handsome than he was now.

Lois felt her heart race, unaccountably, at that thought.

What was going on?

He wore the standard city attire -- dark gray business suit,
shirt, and tie -- although it was probably a stretch of her
imagination to include his tie in that description. It was a
brightly colored mix of shapes and lines, rather than the muted
patterns most of the men who worked at the Daily Planet wore. On
anyone else, she might consider that he'd chosen it in an effort
to make himself stand out. But surely he knew he was handsome?
That he would stand out anywhere, even in a group of equally
attractive men?

He looked startled, as if she -- or something about her -- was
unexpected.

And that brought her thoughts back to her own unexpected -- and
unwanted -- reaction to him. She forced her gaze away, wondering
if she looked as dazed as she felt, and became aware that Perry
was speaking.

"Lois," he was saying, "This is Clark Kent. Clark, this is Lois
Lane, the Planet's star reporter." 

Thoughts still in turmoil, she barely heard Perry's compliment.
The man -- Clark Kent -- began speaking, drawing her attention back
to him. "I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Lane." He extended his
hand toward her.

She stared at it for a moment. She didn't want to touch him.
This -- reaction, whatever it was -- was alarming. She glanced up
at him again, meeting his eyes briefly before quickly looking
away.

This was unacceptable. She was Mad Dog Lane -- time to act like
it. She made herself look at him as she said baldly, "Hi." She
grasped his hand at the same time, shaking it quickly and letting
go almost immediately.

But it didn't matter -- sensation shot up her arm and for the
first time in her life, Lois felt the pull of a deep and almost
visceral attraction -- like her body recognized him, even if
they'd never met before today.

Wide eyed, she saw his own startled awareness, and she hastily
looked away from him. She didn't have time for this... whatever
it was.

She didn't want this… this attraction, this sudden treacherous
longing for… something < a future > with a man < with this man >.
It was simply too dangerous. She'd acknowledged long ago that she
would never have a close relationship of any kind. She could
never get close to anyone for fear that they would find out about
her special abilities.

< Oh, help! > She had to get out of here.

But that would be running away. Mad Dog Lane didn't retreat -
she took prisoners.

"What did you need, Lois?" Perry asked, and she remembered why
she'd been so anxious to talk to him.

Gratefully seizing the opening, she wrapped her Mad Dog persona
around her like armor, and trying desperately to ignore the
disturbing presence of Clark Kent, launched into her argument.
"Perry, that man, Dr. Platt -- I think there's a story here. I
know he looks like he lives in an alley, and yeah, his
calculations and notes were in disarray… Okay, yeah, he gave me a
paper bag full of notes and diagrams written on napkins,
newspaper margins, old gift wrap, and cardboard -- but he had a
sort of… *conviction*, you know? Like he knew what he was talking
about…" She stopped to draw a breath.

Perry looked at her, one eyebrow raised, and drawled, "Where's
that mood piece I assigned you, Lois?"

"I wasn't in the mood!" she snapped. < Easy, Lane… > She drew a
deep breath, and putting on her most persuasive voice with an
effort, began again. "Look, Perry -" She was interrupted by
Jimmy's quick rap on the office doorframe.

"Sorry, Chief! Lois, phone call! The guy says he's a source;
doesn't want to leave a message."

Seizing the opportunity to escape, she bolted, tossing over her
shoulder, "I'll get back to you about Dr. Platt, Chief! Gotta
take this call!" She didn't hang around to listen to Perry's
reply.

She knew it by heart, anyway. An exasperated "Lois!" followed by
arms flung in the air and the oft-muttered, "Don't mind me, I'm
just the editor of this fine newspaper." She never let it bother
her.

---

Lois's source had had some information for her -- information
he'd only give her in person. The man's preferred form of payment
was lunch or dinner -- complete with dessert and gourmet coffee.
He went by the name Bobby Bigmouth, and it wasn't because he made
his living providing information. He was skinny as a rail but
could put away more food at a single sitting than anyone Lois had
ever known.

The man was phenomenal at ferreting out information she could
use, and she knew how incredibly lucky she was that he'd
apparently assigned himself to her. He was much more altruistic
than he let on, too. Some of the information he'd given her over
the years could have made him a fortune if he'd chosen to sell it
to the highest bidder -- yet he gave it to her for the price of a
meal, knowing she'd use it to expose corruption or crime.

She'd never questioned him as to his reasons, and while she'd
been tempted to use her special abilities to follow him -- see
where he lived, what he did when he wasn't finding out
information for her -- she'd decided to respect the unspoken
limits they both placed on the relationship. She had secrets of
her own she wanted to keep.

Returning from her meeting with Bobby, Lois set a half-empty
Metropolis Coffee Company cup on her desk. As long as she was
getting Bobby coffee, she'd reasoned, she might as well get one
for herself. One advantage she had over the average coffee
drinker was that she never had to settle for cold coffee; a
discreet glance into the cup and it was warm again.

Dumping her purse in the bottom drawer, she signed on to her
computer and picked up the cup. She had just removed the top with
the intention of heating the contents when Jimmy appeared in
front of her desk.

"Chief said to send you in to see him the moment you got back,
Lois," the young man informed her, laying a stack of computer
printouts on her desk. "And here's that information you wanted on
Dr. Platt, and some more stuff on Space Station Prometheus."

Lois grabbed the papers and started flipping through them,
coffee forgotten. "Thanks, Jimmy," she said absently, grabbing
blindly for a pencil from the mug stuffed full of them near her
monitor. She began reading, jotting notes in the margins as she
went.

After several moments she realized that Jimmy hadn't moved.

"What?" she asked impatiently, looking up at him.

"Uh, Lois…" he began hesitantly, "The chief said he wanted you
in his office *right away*."

She waved her hand in a shooing motion. "Okay, yeah, thanks,
Jimmy. I heard you. I'll stop in there in a little while. Now
scram until I decide what else I need you to find for me."

She didn't watch to see if he left.

She skimmed rapidly -- but at human speed -- through the first
printout, looking for anything that stood out that might support
Dr. Platt's allegations. While there was nothing obvious, it did
give her some more ideas on where else to look. Completely
focused, she began one of her investigation lists -- jotting
questions, suggestions, phrases, and words in the order they
occurred to her on the bottom of one of the pages in Jimmy's
stack.

The sound of her name at full bellow startled more than one of
the Planet staff; Lois herself looked up and around at Perry,
standing in his office doorway, in mild irritation. Having caught
her eye, he continued at full volume, "What part of 'now' was
unclear?"

With a heavy, put-upon sigh and a roll of her eyes, Lois flipped
the printout closed and slid the pencil behind one ear. Rising,
she made her way toward him. Stepping back into his office, Perry
muttered in a voice she wasn't expected to hear, "I'll tell you,
son, if that young woman wasn't one of the best reporters I've
ever known…" He trailed off as she stepped through the doorway.

She was instantly aware of the second man in the room, even as
Clark Kent rose to his feet at her entrance. He smiled at her -- a
smile so brilliant and beautiful that she felt herself begin to
leave the floor.

She almost panicked. She *never* lost control of her powers any
more.

*Never*.

Looking away from him, she grabbed quickly for the back of the
chair nearest her, hoping she looked like she was steeling
herself for a possible confrontation with her editor, not trying
desperately to reestablish the bonds of gravity. Kent -- she
couldn't let herself begin to think of him as Clark, it was too…
familiar -- made a motion as if to steady her. She glanced at him,
saw the concern on his face, and remembered what had happened
when she'd shaken his hand. She couldn't let him touch her. She
dredged up her best Mad Dog glare while she edged away from him.
His face reflected his confusion as he allowed his hand to drop
to his side.

Forcing herself not to look at him, she looked instead at Perry,
who had just rounded the corner of his desk and was pulling out
his chair. The whole unsettling incident had flashed past in mere
seconds; it only felt like she'd been standing there for hours.
Maybe she could Mad Dog her way out of here. Letting go of the
back of the chair, she took a step toward the door and began,
"Chief, I'm in the middle of this -"

"Sit," he interrupted her firmly, and she dropped grudgingly
into one of the chairs in front of his desk. She tried not to
react as Clark Kent seated himself in the chair beside her.

Perry sat down as well, leaning back and regarding her with a
benevolent smile. It was a smile she'd learned not to trust.
"Lois," he drawled blandly, "I've yet to go wrong following one
of your hunches. If you say there's something to this whole
Samuel Platt and Space Station Prometheus thing, then I'm giving
you the go-ahead on it -- I'm not done yet," he added sharply as
she began to rise.

"Chief -" was as far as she got before he was speaking again.

"Kent, here, is the Planet's newest investigative reporter. He
comes well recommended by your own Professor Sterling at Met U,
and has quite an impressive portfolio. For the time being, you'll
be working with him on this Prometheus thing."

She gaped at him. "What?"

"Say hello to your new partner, Lois," Perry said with an
expansive smile.

Lois was flabbergasted. A partner?

She didn't need a partner. She hadn't *ever* needed a partner!

Why was Perry deciding, after the past several years and her two
Kerths, to assign her a partner? Especially *this man*? She
couldn't work with him! How could she?

"Perry!" She started again. "I can't -"

Perry raised a solicitous and inquiring eyebrow.

"Oh, I get it," she said. "This is about my blowing off that
mood piece, right? You're taking me down a peg because I got a
little too… Perry," she put on her most beseeching look, "I'm
sorry -- you know me, I just jump in without checking the water
level sometimes. But you have to admit, usually I'm right." She
chuckled a little, inviting him to share the joke.

He was smiling, but it wasn't a share-the-joke smile at all. It
was the sort of smile she used when she knew she was going to get
her own way.

This wasn't looking good.

"Chief," she began again, but he held up his hand before she
could continue.

"Now, Lois." He sounded like a parent with a recalcitrant child.
A noise that sounded suspiciously like a smothered laugh coming
from her left forcibly reminded her of the man she was trying so
hard to ignore. She looked sharply at him, but he gazed back at
her innocently, and meeting her eyes, smiled that… that *smile*
at her again. She snapped back to look at Perry, who was rising
to his feet.

"Lois, you are the best of the best," he said, and his smile
smoothed into a genuine one. "Kent, here, is new to the Planet,
yes. But he is also *very* good. I reckon if I put the two of you
on it, this story will be Kerth material for sure. Because I
agree with you, darlin' -- there's something wrong with that whole
program. Give this idea of mine a chance, Lois," Perry added
persuasively. "I smell a possible Pulitzer in this."

She tried one last time. "Perry, I work best alone. You know
that. I don't do that whole partnership thing very well -"

Perry interrupted her again. "Time you learned, darlin'. Now I
can give this whole assignment to Kent, here, or you can work
*with* him on it. Your choice."

She knew when to fold. Grudgingly, she nodded. "Fine, Chief,"
she muttered. "Now, if you're done with me -- with *us* -" she
added as he cocked that eyebrow at her again, "my *partner* and I
have work to do. C'mon, Kent!" And she stalked out of the office,
trying not to notice if he followed her or not.

He did.

---

Jimmy was waiting for them at Lois's desk, his usual cheerful
smile in place.

"Hi!" he said, extending his hand to Lois's unwanted companion.
"Clark Kent, right? I'm Jimmy Olsen. Pleased to meet you." The
two men shook hands as Lois sat down at her desk, trying not to
pay any attention to either of them. 

"The Chief said to set you up over here, with Lois," Jimmy
continued, earning a glare he didn't see from her. He patted the
top of a computer monitor sitting on the previously empty desk
across from hers. "Here, sit down and try this out -- I've got
your computer set up, and it's connected to the network and ready
to go…"

Watching surreptitiously as Jimmy went over the computer setup
with Kent, she thought about the whole annoying partner thing
Perry had foisted on her. Well, she might have to work with this
man, but she didn't have to like it.

She'd have to find a way to make this tolerable, somehow. She'd
overcome a lot of other things in her life; she'd just have to
ruthlessly crush this… *insane* attraction to Kent. Glowering at
the two men as Jimmy went on and on about the computer, she
admitted it would be a whole lot easier to keep this guy Kent at
arm's length if only he was just a little less friendly. But no,
apparently he was one of those
never-met-a-stranger-everybody-likes-him kind of guys.

Well, most people in the office were intimidated by Mad Dog
Lane. Maybe if she just… *deliberately* gave him the full
treatment, it might keep him from getting too close. She'd just
have to keep the upper hand in this supposed partnership and show
Clark Kent the brashest, most abrasive Mad Dog behavior she had.

Jimmy was still talking. "You just need to sign in for the first
time and set your prefs, and you're all set, okay? And the supply
closet's just over there, near the chief's office." He gestured
in the general direction of Perry's office. "Feel free to get
whatever you need -- paper, pencils and pens, office supplies, and
so on…" 

Lois interrupted him. "Yeah, yeah -- he can do all that later,
Jimmy. Any luck with that code?"

"Well, no -" Nicely distracted from the rest of his
welcome-to-the-Planet chatter, Jimmy shook his head. "I'm still
working on it. It's harder to figure out, you know, 'cause it's
only a fragment. It's like… taking a single paragraph out of a
book and trying to get the whole story from just that one
paragraph. I'm trying to hack into -- er, I mean…" He glanced
around nervously and lowered his voice. "That is, uh -- well, I'm
trying to… *access* the space program's files. If I can get a
look at the Lisp code for the whole program -- you know, the
shuttles' computer programs? I can get a better idea of what,
exactly, this is."

Clark Kent spoke up. "May I see it?"

"Yeah, sure." Jimmy fished the folded scrap out of his pocket,
unfolded it, and handed it over. "It's a fragment of Lisp code;
we're trying to find out what it does."
 
"Dr Platt's?" Kent asked.

"Yeah. Well, I don't know if he wrote it -- you know, authored
it -- but it was in his research notes."

"His research notes -- which he delivered to me in a large paper
bag," Lois couldn't resist adding. "The entire body of research
is written on an assortment of scraps of paper like that one, and
on napkins, pieces of cardboard, a pizza carryout menu, and even
a shoebox lid. And none of the… pages… were in order."

"Ouch. How far have you gotten with them?" Kent asked
sympathetically.

"Not very," she admitted, forgetting her resolve to be Mad Dog
Lane. "I'm about a third of the way through them, and they're
full of stuff like that." She nodded at the scrap he still held.
"That one, in particular, gave me fits." 

"Yeah," Jimmy chimed in. "We know it's computer code, but we
don't know what it's for."

"Couldn't we just ask him what it does?" Kent asked.

Lois shook her head. "I want to know what it does, first," she
said flatly. "According to Jimmy's sources, Dr. Platt's supposed
to be a computer expert, so he could tell us anything. This could
be some sort of malevolent… I don't know, computer virus thingy.
I don't really think the guy's in on any kind of sabotage, and I
suspect he didn't write that code -- I think he found it when he
wasn't supposed to. But I'd like to know what that code does
before I go talk to Platt."

Kent nodded. "That makes sense." He smiled at her across the
desks, and she remembered she was supposed to be Mad Dog Lane.
She forced herself not to react to his smile. After a moment
under her blank stare, his smile faded.

Jimmy glanced at Kent, then at her, and she knew he was
contemplating a quick retreat in the face of Mad Dog Lane. 

"Do you think it's malevolent, Jim?" Kent asked the young man,
handing back the scrap of code.

"Well, not…" Jimmy glanced warily at Lois again. "Not
deliberately malevolent like… like erasing a hard drive or
anything. I haven't tried to run it yet -- not sure I can, since
it's incomplete -- but so far it really just looks like
nonsensical lines of code."

He forgot Mad Dog, relaxing as he warmed to his subject. "But I
don't know Lisp all that well. I mean, I can read it, and I've
written a couple of short… uh, search programs using Lisp, but
there're a couple of variants out there. Besides, it's just a few
lines -- probably taken from a larger body of code. Like I said,
it would be easier to figure it out if I had the whole program."


Lois asked, "But it wouldn't necessarily have to be deliberately
malicious, right? What happens if some 'nonsense code' is written
into a program?"

"Well, usually it would just crash the program."

"Shut it down?" Kent asked. When Jimmy nodded, he continued,
"You said the shuttle programming is in this same language? All
of it?"

"Yeah."

"So…" Kent said slowly. He glanced at Lois. "If this small bit
of code were inserted into one of the shuttle's programs…

"…Like the countdown and ignition sequences…" Lois interjected.

"…It could cause the whole process to abort?" Kent finished.

"Yeah," Jimmy said again.

"And just a line or two of nonsense would be hard to find in a
large amount of code, right?" Lois asked him.

"Yeah -- extremely time-consuming; you'd have to go through every
line."

"I think we need to get through the rest of Dr. Platt's research
notes as soon as possible," Lois said. "And then we need to go
talk to him."

"Do you want to work on it tonight?" Kent asked.

Yes. No.

No. She wasn't ready to have Kent in her apartment. It would
feel way too… intimate. She glanced at him unwillingly, not
meeting his gaze, and said gruffly, "No. The notes are all at my
place. I need to bring them back in so we can go through them…"

"Didn't you say you had a lot of them laid out in order on your
floor?" Jimmy chimed in unhelpfully.

She glared at him. "Don't you have some more research to do?"
she snapped.

He backed up a step, clearly deciding retreat was his best
option. "Yeah… uh, I'd better get to that…" he stammered, already
moving away from them. "See you guys later, huh?"

There was a short silence.

"Lois." Clark -- Kent -- said her name gently, and she reluctantly
met his too-perceptive gaze. "It's okay. You don't know me. I can
understand that it would make you uncomfortable to have a perfect
stranger in your home. We can work here. I'm sorry you'll have to
undo the work you've done so far, but with two of us going
through it again tomorrow, it shouldn't take as long to re-sort
it all." 

She looked away from him, from the soft look in his eyes. The
urge to stay and talk was strong, but instead she began gathering
up her things. Without acknowledging what he had said, she stood
abruptly. "I need to get going. We can start on the rest of Dr.
Platt's notes tomorrow."

She was halfway up the ramp before Kent could say anything.

-----

The following morning, Lois arrived at the Planet just in time
for the morning meeting. She'd slept poorly, and had then
lingered over the lines of Dr. Platt's notes, trying to decide if
she really wanted to gather them all up and start over. In the
end, she'd left them where they were, seizing on the excuse that
she was going to be late. She had refused to let her thoughts
wander past that point.

She slid into the meeting room on Perry's heels, to find that
Kent had left an empty place beside him. The only other places
were at the far side of the room, and she would have to squeeze
past several people to get there.

As she hesitated, Perry pulled out his own chair and asked,
"Lois? Did you forget something?"

With a tiny, soundless sigh, she dropped into the chair beside
Kent. "Well, I could use some coffee, Chief…" She trailed off as
Kent slid a coffee cup toward her.

"When I realized you must be running late, I thought you might
like a cup," he said softly. "I don't know what you like in it,
so I also grabbed some sweetener and creamer."

What she would like was to be in another room -- even another
building -- far away from this sweet man who disturbed her so
much. "Thanks." She said it flatly, not looking at him, and
focused on Perry, who had begun to speak.

But she found it very hard to concentrate on what Perry was
saying, and had to keep forcing herself to block out the sound of
Kent's heartbeat. Glancing covertly at the man beside her, she
watched his hand, lightly tanned with well-kept nails, as he
jotted notes in the margins of the morning handout. She
remembered the jolt of feeling she'd had when they'd shaken hands
that first day.

No. That must have been her imagination. Nobody actually
experienced that kind of reaction to anyone outside of fiction.

She was so aware of the man she was ready to scream. How could
Perry do this to her? She needed to… to… She didn't know what she
needed to do. She could feel her heart pounding, and wondered if
her increasing discomfort was visible to anyone else. She was
going to have to find a way to escape.

No, to *leave* the meeting. Mad Dog Lane never 'escaped' from
*anything*. Mad Dog Lane was intimidated by no one. Mad Dog Lane
did *not* have panic attacks. Mad Dog Lane was -

"That's it, people! Now hustle! Get me news!" Perry's voice
broke into her thoughts, and she took a deep breath, forcing
herself to unclench her hands and slow her heart rate.

In the same moment, Kent leaned slightly toward her and
whispered, "Are you okay, Lois?" 

Perry saved her from having to respond to that. "Lois? Clark?
You two need anything?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"Not yet, Chief." She was pleased to hear her voice sounded
completely normal. As she rose to her feet, Kent pulled out her
chair for her, stepping back to allow her to precede him. She
shot an annoyed look at him as she turned toward the door, and
ignored the surprised look he gave her in return. The dratted
man. Every time she turned around, literally, there he was doing
something *nice* for her.

Once again, she headed for her desk, trying not to notice that
he was right behind her.

---

In the short time it took for them to cross to their desks, she
had gathered her thoughts and her resolve, and was ready to treat
him to the full Mad Dog effect.

"Okay," she announced briskly. "We have work to do. Here's how
it works, Kent. *I'm* the senior reporter here. You may have
experience, but you don't have Daily Planet investigative
experience. *I* call the shots, *I* make the rules. *You* do not
work *with* me, you work *for* me. Keep that in mind at all times
and we'll get along fine. Got it?" She looked at him with the
light of battle in her eyes.

He gazed back at her for a moment, nonplussed, began to say
something, and then obviously changed his mind.

"What?" she snapped.

He looked at her somewhat searchingly, and she gritted her teeth
to keep from reacting to the soft look in his eyes. After a
moment, he smiled slightly and replied, "Got it, Lois. You like
to be…" 

He paused for a moment, and she bristled. If he said something
chauvinistic and condescending, something totally Ralph-ish like
'You like to be on top,' she wasn't going to be responsible for
her actions.

"…a leader," he continued, without any undertone of insincerity.
"A kind of mentor, in a way. That makes sense -- you are, after
all, considered to be the best of the best. It's one of the
reasons I'm proud to work with you. Well, lead away, partner.
What do we do first?"

Realizing she was gaping at him, she hurriedly shut her mouth
and dropped into her chair. "First, we go through the rest of the
information Jimmy found for me. If Dr. Platt is correct, we'll
need to know as much as possible about the people involved in the
program in order to find out who is sabotaging the shuttle
flights, and why." Booting up her computer, she reached for the
stack of printouts and divided them roughly in half, sliding one
stack across to him as he sat down and booted up his own
computer.

He took his stack, flashed a smile at her, and began to read.
She looked down at her own stack, but it took a few moments
before she was able to school her thoughts and concentrate on the
words in front of her. The man's smile ought to be outlawed. It
was too unsettling, and she didn't like the way it made her
feel.

---

They worked their way through the information steadily until
lunchtime. At that point, Lois reluctantly pushed the last of her
printouts to the side of her desk. She'd finished reading it half
an hour previously, but had resolutely not looked over at her new
partner to check on his progress. She was afraid he would catch
her eye and suggest something unappealing < appealing > like
having lunch together. She looked up when he spoke from across
the desk.

"Have you finished reading your printouts?" he asked
pleasantly.

"Yes." She kept her reply short and abrupt.

"Me too." He stood up. "I think it's time for lunch." She braced
herself, ready to throw her best Mad Dog Lane attitude at him
when he continued with the invitation she knew he was about to
issue.

"Lois…" As he stepped around the edge of his desk, she made
herself look up at him. He hesitated, looking away from her
toward the top of the ramp for a moment, and she got the
impression he was rethinking what he had been going to say. "I
have an errand I need to run… So I'll see you here in about an
hour, okay?" With a quick smile, he turned and headed up the
ramp, replying pleasantly to those who spoke to him as he went.

Lois sat watching him, telling herself that it was relief she
was feeling, not surprise. And absolutely not disappointment. The
less she was around him the better.

---

She grabbed a sandwich at her favorite deli and sat in the park
to eat it, as she often did if the weather was nice. She didn't
enjoy it as much as usual, though. If she weren't invulnerable,
she might have wondered if she was coming down with something.
Well, it was probably the… the uncertainty of the investigation
that was getting to her. That it had never been an issue in any
of her other investigations she refused to consider.

Her new partner wasn't in the newsroom when she returned.

"Where's Kent?" she asked Jimmy abruptly as he walked past.

"I don't know; I haven't seen him since -- oh, there you are,
CK," Jimmy smiled at Kent, who was coming toward them from the
direction of Perry's office.

"Hi, Jimmy. Hi, Lois," he said as he reached them. 

About to ask him where he'd been, Lois instead found herself
asking, "CK?"

Kent shrugged and smiled as Jimmy replied, "Yeah -- CK; Clark
Kent…"

"I get it," she informed him snappily, then turned to Kent. "You
don't mind?"

"No, of course not," he replied with a smile. As Jimmy continued
on his way, Kent set one of the two Metropolis Coffee Company
cups he held on her desk. "I stopped to get myself a coffee and
remembered I've seen you drinking them. So I brought you one, too
- it's a Double Mocha Latte. You like chocolate, don't you?"

She loved the stuff. She looked at him warily, but saw only
simple friendliness in his expression. "Thanks," she said
gruffly. Then after a brief silence, more softly, "Thank you…
Clark. I do like chocolate."

He smiled and moved to his own desk. "You're welcome, Lois. Did
you bring Dr. Platt's research notes in? Unless Jim's got more
information for us, I think we're ready to tackle that mess."

She sighed. She'd spent the whole morning *not* thinking about
those notes and the fact that they were still laid out on her
living room floor.

"Lois?" her partner asked.

She sighed again, then squared her shoulders and looked at him
challengingly. "No. I didn't bring them in," she said
belligerently. "I decided that I didn't feel like messing up two
days of work. We can work on them there. If Perry vouches for you
I guess that's good enough for me." Her eyes dared him to
comment.

All he said was, "If that's what you prefer, Lois, that's fine
with me. Do we work on them now, or this evening?"

"Now." She stood up, Mad Dog Lane from head to toe. "The sooner
we get through it all, the better." She grabbed her coffee and
headed up the ramp without looking back. After a moment, she
heard him follow her.

-----

The walk to her apartment was made in silence, but to Lois's
surprise, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. By the time they
arrived, she was actually feeling quite calm. She could do this.
It wouldn't be any different from having, say, Jimmy stop by to
help her.

Once they were actually standing inside her apartment, she
started to have second thoughts again. What was she supposed to
say? She hadn't ever had visitors, other than Sam and Ellen, and
even that had been rare. Jimmy had stopped by several times to
deliver information she'd requested, but he'd never stayed.

As she stood there trying to hang onto Mad Dog Lane, Kent solved
her problem. Instead of standing there like a guest, he had moved
into the living room area and was inspecting the neat rows of Dr.
Platt's scraps. 

"Wow, you *have* done a lot of work, haven't you?" he asked.
Looking into the box still partly full of scraps, he continued,
"And is this the rest of them? You weren't kidding when you said
they were a mess, were you?" He lifted the box off the coffee
table and set it in the middle of an empty area of floor, near
where her previously laid lines of scraps ended. "It looks like
we're all set," he continued cheerfully, glancing at her with a
quick smile and then returning his attention to the box. "We've
got coffee; we've got plenty of work. How about if we start at
opposite ends of this open space, and both of us sort? Think
that'll work?"

To her surprise, Lois found herself agreeing without argument,
and settling onto the floor at one end of the open area with her
coffee and a stack of Dr. Platt's notes. Kent settled at the
other end with his own coffee and stack of notes.

They very quickly worked out a process where each of them sorted
what they could into order, laying it out in rows parallel to
each other, with the scraps that were illegible or out of order
tossed into a narrow sort of no man's land between the two areas.
If one or the other of them came to a gap in the bits and scraps,
he or she could sort through the discards; more often than not,
the gaps were filled in.

The reading and sorting, and the occasional comment about a
scrap from one or the other of them, soothed Lois with its
normality. While she was still very aware of Kent, she found that
they worked very well together, and she was feeling calm enough
and secure enough to admit it to herself. She'd been right, down
there on the pavement -- it wasn't any different than working with
Jimmy.

Recalling something Perry had said, she asked, "Where did you go
to school?"

"Midwestern University." He grinned at her. "You know I'm from
Kansas?" And at her nod, "Midwest was close enough to go home on
weekends, and its School of Journalism is in the top ten."

"How do you… That well-recommended thing -- you know, that Perry
said… How does Professor Sterling know you, if you went to
Midwest? He's been at Met U for at least a decade." 

"He and the dean of Midwest's School of Journalism set up a sort
of trial exchange course between the two schools," Clark
explained. "I was chosen for the program my senior year. I spent
three weeks at Met U that spring, and one of Dr. Sterling's
students spent three weeks at Midwest."

"Oh." She pretended to be engrossed in the scrap she'd just
picked up. He had been there, on campus, at the same time as she
had. Spring of his senior year -- he was about two years older
than she was, so that would have been her second year. The year
she'd been perfecting her control over her strength and speed at
Uncle Mike's gym.

He'd been there only a very short time, and as an upperclassman,
wouldn't have been in the same classes. But still… He had been
that close; somehow she should have sensed it. She knew how
ridiculous that sounded -- one man in a student population of
close to thirty-five thousand -- but it still felt like she ought
to have known. Ought to have somehow sensed he was there.

She was getting tense again. For a brief while, she'd allowed
herself to ignore her reaction to this man, but it was back in
full force now. She also realized that Mad Dog Lane had been
nowhere in sight. Granted, they'd spoken very little, but she
couldn't afford to appear friendly. It was too dangerous. It made
her want things she couldn't have.

How to get him out of here, though? They still had a long way to
go, and suggesting that they stop for dinner might give him the
impression that she wanted to have a meal with him. Which she
didn't.

She *didn't*. She… couldn't.

She'd have to unleash the full force of Mad Dog Lane on him, and
she didn't want to. Not because she wanted him to stay, or to
like her. No. Of course not. But she *did* have her pride; she
didn't want him to… think she was unstable. Yes. Even *she*
couldn't pull off quite that mercurial a mood change without
causing some concern.

Once again, the man solved her dilemma for her. Glancing at his
watch, he rose to his feet. "Lois, I'm afraid I have to call it
quits for the night. I'm sure you have plans for the evening, and
we seem to have accomplished quite a lot. I'll see you tomorrow
morning at the Planet, okay?" 

And before she had time to say anything more than "Oh. Okay," he
was wishing her a quiet goodnight and had left her apartment.

Lois looked at her living room floor. They had, indeed, gotten a
lot accomplished. At this rate, they might empty the box
tomorrow. Then the reading could begin in earnest.

He'd left rather abruptly. Maybe her strategy was working.

She picked up the two empty coffee cups and went into her
kitchen. She didn't *want* Kent to be interested in her. So why
was his unexpected exit bothering her so much?

Why had he left so quickly? She hadn't said anything to him…
Maybe that was why. She hadn't made much effort to talk to him.
Or maybe he had a date or something. He was a strikingly
attractive man. And she hadn't missed the way the Planet's
resident female version of Casanova, gossip columnist Cat Grant,
had brazenly introduced herself earlier today.

Grumpily, she dumped the cups into the trash and opened the
refrigerator. Dinner. And sleep. She could have a nice quiet
dinner and then use this time to catch up on her sleep.

-----

It was raining rather heavily when she arrived at the Planet the
following morning, another bunch of Dr. Platt's sorted notes,
this time in a plastic bag, tucked under one arm. She shook out
her umbrella in the foyer, wishing she could have just flown over
from her place. She could fly fast enough -- and high enough -
that she wouldn't have gotten wet. But years of caution kept her
from flying during daylight hours.

When she entered the newsroom, she saw Kent sitting at his desk,
turned sideways, brushing rather ineffectively at a large patch
of mud marring one pant leg near his knee.

"What happened to you?" she asked him, dropping the wet umbrella
on the floor near her chair, and setting the bag of Dr. Platt's
scraps on her desk.

"I…" he began, but was interrupted by Jimmy's cheerful voice.

"Same thing that happened to me, it looks like," he said,
gesturing to his own slacks; the bottom six inches or so of both
pant legs were soaking wet and dirty. "I was the victim of a
drive-by splashing."

She looked back at Kent. "You're going to have to get that
cleaned." Turning to Jimmy, she demanded, "Didn't you show him
where the cafeteria and locker rooms were?"

"Not yet, Lois -- I haven't had a chance to," Jimmy said hastily.
"It is kind of a neat setup, CK," he added. "There's the
cafeteria, of course, and there are showers and lockers and
stuff, too. It's a bit unusual, but since the Planet owns the
whole building…"

"Jimmy! Just show him where they are already!" she snapped.
Honestly. Kent could've been down there and back by now. "You'll
have to see if you can borrow something," she told Kent crisply.
"Or make do with whatever repairs you can -- at least until after
the morning meeting. You ought to do what most of us do -- keep a
spare set of clothes here."

Jimmy hurried away, taking Kent with him. She stared after them
for a moment, shaking her head. It wasted valuable investigation
time when things like this happened, although it was inevitable
in a big city. She'd learned that early on. After she'd had to
spend the whole day in clothes she'd worn for a stakeout, she'd
made sure have a change of clothes on hand at all times. Being
able to shower and change on the premises had saved a lot of that
valuable time.

Usually, she made use of the Planet's amenities after a stakeout
spent in some elaborate or heavy disguise. But once, she'd been
at lunch when she'd come upon a cluster of workers and onlookers
at the entrance of a manhole. Hearing alarmed shouts from below,
she'd paused. She'd heard one of the men say in a panicky voice,
"I can't reach him. But if we don't get him out of there soon…"

A low, pain-filled moan had decided her. Looking around
carefully with her enhanced vision, she'd seen a second manhole
cover partway down a narrow alley. As the bystanders focused on
the man just inside the hole, she'd slipped down the alley,
lifted the cover, and dropping quickly down to hover above the
dirty concrete floor of the conduit. Apparently, there'd been
some sort of cave-in, and one of the workers was pinned under the
debris. She'd come up behind and below the injured man, lifting
both him and his coworker toward the surface.

The surprised coworker had found himself on the street with the
injured man beside him, and no adequate explanation for it. As he
had gabbled that an angel had helped him rescue their coworker,
she could hear the others wondering if he'd hit his head coming
up. She'd retreated, fast, the way she'd come, and in less than
thirty seconds she'd replaced the cover, exited the alley, and
made her way halfway down the block. She'd arrived at the Planet
aware that her blouse was dusty, with smears of dirt on the
sleeves, and had had to concoct a quick story of being knocked
against a dumpster by an over-exuberant jogger who hadn't been
watching where he was going.

She sat down and booted up her computer, checked her email, and
then carefully pulled Dr. Platt's research notes out of the bag.

She looked up as Jimmy and Kent returned, talking about some
ballgame or other. Looking them over, she noted that Jimmy had
changed clothes, while Kent had been more effective than she'd
thought at getting the mud cleaned up.

"Hmmm, nice job, Kent. You can hardly tell it's there."

"Oh, thanks, Lois." He gave her one of those unsettling smiles
of his, and she remembered Mad Dog Lane.

"Yeah, whatever. C'mon, let's get to work on this," she said
flatly, handing him half the stack of notes.

With a small shrug, he took them from her without comment, and
they spent the next half hour reading carefully through the
scraps of paper, jotting down notes and questions as they went.

---

The morning meeting proceeded much the same as the previous one
had. Kent was already in the conference room when she entered,
having been delayed with a phone call from Bobby Bigmouth. Once
again, Kent had left a seat for her. This time she dropped into
it without hesitation. He was her partner, after all; it would
look strange, even for Mad Dog Lane, if she appeared to be
avoiding him. Mad Dog did not retreat, after all.

And besides, if she left the seat open she had no doubt Cat
would be hanging all over him, annoying Lois and getting in the
way. Of their investigation.

He slid a cup of coffee over in front of her with a smile, and
she saw that this time, the coffee already had additions. "I
remembered what you used yesterday," he said quietly, "and I
figured I'd go ahead and fix it for you today. Saves time and
mess."

"Thank you," she said shortly, but her tone was much softer than
it had been the day before. Honestly, how on earth was she
supposed to keep Mad Dog Lane firmly in place when he kept
disarming her at almost every turn?

Perry's voice, calling for everyone's attention and ending any
necessity for her to make conversation with her disturbing
partner, was a welcome intrusion into her thoughts. And to her
relief, the intense awareness of Kent was muted to a point where
by concentrating fiercely on what Perry was saying, she was able
to push it to the back of her mind.

After the meeting, they spent a little time updating Perry on
the progress of their investigation, before commandeering Jimmy
to help them find some specific data on the space program.
Reading through the information he found and the rest of the most
recent batch of Dr. Platt's notes kept them both busy until
lunchtime.

---

Once again, they spent the afternoon sorting through Dr. Platt's
research notes at Lois's apartment. Kent had provided the coffee
again, and they'd started in where they'd left off the night
before without incident. By four o'clock, they'd finished sorting
out every piece of paper, napkin, cardboard, and other strange
detritus that made up the professor's work. The oddest things
he'd used were a one-dollar bill and one of those heavy-duty blue
paper towels of the kind offered at gas stations to clean
windshields.

Now all they had to do was read it. Lois knew she could probably
speed through much of it very quickly, and if she'd been
investigating alone, she would have. How would she explain
something like that to the partner Perry had foisted upon her,
though? With a sigh, she looked around at the scraps of paper in
neat rows across her floor. They'd even had to extend some of the
rows into the kitchen.

"We ought to gather some of these rows up into stacks and secure
them somehow," Kent commented. "Maybe with rubber bands? You're
not going to be able to get across the floor from one room to
another tonight without disturbing some of these rows."

She honestly hadn't thought of that. She'd spent the last few
nights simply hovering over the mess whenever she needed to. She
couldn't very well tell Kent that, of course. With another sigh,
she conceded that if she couldn't fly, his suggestion would
probably have already occurred to her.

"Fine," she said somewhat shortly, more out of annoyance that
she'd let down her guard around him to the point that she wasn't
carefully watching everything she said or did. She couldn't
afford to have him start wondering how she might have
accomplished this thing or that thing. She had to admit, however
reluctantly, that the man was sharp.

Standing up, she picked her way carefully to the kitchen and dug
around in one of the drawers for rubber bands. Returning to the
living room, she found him carefully gathering up Dr. Platt's
notes, starting at the empty area from which she'd taken the
first two sets of research notes she'd brought back to the
newsroom. 

When he'd gathered about three inches of notes in a relatively
neat stack, he held it firmly while she wrapped a rubber band
around it, then turned it ninety degrees so she could wrap a
second rubber band around it. Once it was secured, he picked up a
Sharpie marker off her coffee table and wrote a small numeral 3
in an empty space on the top page of the stack. "Because we've
already got two stacks at the Planet, right?" he commented.

"Yeah. Good idea," she said grudgingly.

They worked their way together through about half the living
room, creating stacks four, five, six, and seven. She was careful
not to touch him any more than necessary, and almost managed to
convince herself that she didn't feel *something* every time one
of their hands brushed against the other's.

Kent put each of the stacks carefully into the big box Jimmy had
found her for the loose notes, and looked around the room in
satisfaction. "There. Now you can actually walk around in here
without worrying about whether you'll accidentally kick some of
the pages out of order."

She smiled slightly; her mind had seized on another dilemma. It
was now six o'clock; would he expect her to feed him? Or… would
he try to invite her out for a meal? She didn't have anything she
could feed him, and anyway, having a meal with him would be so…
intimate. She didn't *do* all that… close interpersonal stuff.
Mad Dog Lane just didn't have time for it.

But then he was collecting the empty coffee containers, walking
into her kitchen and placing them into the trash, and as she
followed him slowly, he glanced at his watch. "Well, I guess I'd
better get going," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" And
once again, he was leaving with a quiet "Good night, Lois," while
she stood there trying not to wonder where he was going.

-----

Lois didn't get to work until nearly one o'clock the next
afternoon, and when she did arrive, her mood was so volatile that
it made mere Mad Dog Lane seem mild enough to soothe a baby to
sleep. She stormed in like a small fury, and the day went
downhill from there.

Jimmy, approaching with a stack of printouts Clark had asked him
for, stopped abruptly half the newsroom away from her, and
avoiding her eye, flashed a rather sickly, apologetic smile at
Clark and fled down the hall toward the research rooms. Planet
employees in the immediate vicinity kept their heads down,
focusing intently on their work. More people than usual donned
headphones; there was little talk between desks as most of them
suddenly discovered the joys of music.

She stopped at her desk, dumped the two bundles of Dr. Platt's
notes she had brought in with her into the center of her work
area, and sat down. She stared down at her copy of the morning
edition for a moment, unmoving, then bent and stuffed her purse
into the bottom drawer.

"Are you all right, Lois?" Kent foolishly chose to ask her.

She straightened up and glared at him, but said nothing.

Most people would have stopped there, but he tried again. "Where
were you this morning? Did something happen?"

"What are you, my keeper?" she snapped at him, ignoring his
surprise.

After a few moments, he asked cautiously, "Should we get started
on Dr. Platt's notes?"

"Get this straight," she snarled at him. "There is no *we*.
There is *you* and there is *me*, but *there* *is* *no* *we*. You
think I'm going to carry you in my back pocket through this
investigation? Think again, buddy!"

Rising to her feet, she grabbed the two bundles of Dr. Platt's
notes, the morning edition, a notebook and a handful of pencils,
and charged across the newsroom to the closer of the two
conference rooms. Entering on a tide of anger, she tossed
everything onto the table, slammed the door, and sat down at one
end of the table, her back to the newsroom.

As the afternoon wore on, her cantankerous mood deteriorated to
one of deep gloom. She deliberately shut down her hearing,
blocking out by sheer determination the whispered mutters and
comments she knew were making their way around the newsroom. As
the day wound down, she made less and less effort to read Dr.
Platt's notes, and finally she just sat and stared at the table.

Three months ago, she'd written a series of hard-hitting
investigative reports on one of the city's most notorious
slumlords. She'd researched her information thoroughly and had
exposed many of his dirty dealings and the deplorable conditions
of the buildings he owned.

Her work had helped get him a day in court, and she'd hoped the
resultant charges would force him to clean up his buildings and
bring them up to code. Unfortunately, he'd gotten off with a few
fines and a slap on the wrist, and had gone back to managing the
various properties -- with only a few cosmetic changes.

She'd been working on a follow-up article when the Space Station
Prometheus investigation had begun to heat up, and the slumlord's
activities -- or lack of -- had been pushed aside for later.

This morning, getting ready for work, she'd gotten a call from
Bobby Bigmouth about a fire in one of the shabby apartment
buildings on the edge of Suicide Slum. It was a building that was
particularly unsafe. It had only one stairwell, the elevators
were almost always inoperable, and there were no fire escapes.

By the time she got there, the fire was mostly under control.
The firefighters had managed to contain it fairly quickly, but
not fast enough for the few tenants remaining in the building.
They had been trapped on an upper floor, and while the flames had
not reached them, they had succumbed to the thick, poisonous
smoke before the firemen could get to them.

Lois had learned over the years to block out a lot of the sounds
she heard, concentrating only on her immediate surroundings. But
sometimes she couldn't help but hear people in need of help. On
several occasions, she'd been able to help unobtrusively, but
more often than not, she couldn't help without exposing her
secret.

She'd heard the final, gasping cry of one of the fire victims as
she'd arrived, and it wasn't something she was likely to forget
any time soon. Based on what the firefighters said about the
fire, she'd probably have been unable to help any of the victims
even if she'd been able to use her powers openly. But that didn't
matter. What did matter was that six people had died and she
hadn't saved any of them.

Now she opened the morning edition and paged through it until
she found the small article about the fire. It listed the victims
- six people who might have lived if she'd heard about the fire
earlier. If she'd been there soon enough to find a way to get
them out of the building, or extinguish the fire, or clear the
smoke. If she'd gone after that slumlord harder. 

The door opening behind her brought her attention back to the
present. The newsroom outside the conference room windows was
dark; it was past quitting time for the day staff and the lights
had gone to night-shift settings. Her partner entered the room,
and pulling out the chair at a right angle to hers, sat down and
setting a covered foam cup in front of her. "Hot chocolate," he
said softly. "I thought you could use it."

She took the cup, not looking at him, and sipped.

"Are you okay?" he asked her just as softly.

Her anger had mostly burned itself out. She sat for a moment,
staring at the article, then slapped her hand down on it and
looked up at him. "Look at this," she burst out. "This fire -- it
shouldn't have happened! I shouldn't have *let* it happen! I
could have stopped it, Clark!"

He couldn't know that her words had more than one meaning. There
was the obvious meaning -- she should have done more to expose the
slumlord, the unsafe building. But there was also the meaning
only she knew: she should have found a way to get in there and
help those people.

But her fear of exposure was so strong. All her life, she'd had
to keep her special abilities hidden. Usually she could deal with
that; she'd found that being an investigative reporter was the
best non-special-abilities way to fight dragons. But this sort of
thing was the worst -- when things like this happened, where she
*could* have helped but didn't.

"Lois, you did try to stop it. I read that series of articles -
they were compelling and they launched a full-scale police
investigation into the man's activities."

"You don't understand," she whispered miserably, fighting tears.
"I *could* have helped those people…"

He reached over and placed his long fingers gently against her
chin, turning her face so that she was looking at him. "Lois, I
covered that fire this morning. I spoke to the fire chief." With
one finger, he brushed away the single tear that spilled over, so
tenderly that she almost lost control over the rest of them.

He took his hand away and handed her a clean, neatly folded
handkerchief. Trying not to miss his touch, she mopped at her
eyes. "The poor quality of the construction produced massive
quantities of poisonous smoke," he continued, "and those poor
people were unlucky enough to be trapped in a pocket of it. The
fire chief said that even if his men had been on the same floor
in full fire gear at the start of the fire, they would have been
unable to save them all. It wasn't the smoke itself, but the
toxins in it. There was nothing anyone could have done to help."

"But I should have found a way…" she insisted.

"Lois." He waited until she looked at him again. "Sometimes you
just… can't. You can't protect everyone, no matter who you are -
policeman, fireman, rescue personnel, doctor -- or investigative
reporter. What you *can* do is not let their deaths be in vain.
You can expose this guy further, Lois. Now, in addition to poorly
maintained buildings, shortcuts in construction, and code
violations, he has the deaths of six people to explain. You can
fix it so that he pays for those shortcuts, and that those
buildings are emptied and either fixed or condemned."

"What about…"


"Dr. Platt and Space Station Prometheus?" At her nod, he said
diffidently, "We can put Dr. Platt's notes aside for one evening
and concentrate on this. I can help you, if you'd like. We could
quite possibly get the legal ball rolling on this guy as soon as
tomorrow, or at least the end of the week."

She drank some more hot chocolate and thought about what he'd
said. It would definitely ease her mind to jump on this guy,
figuratively, and maybe get some closure on the whole thing. And
Clark was right -- Dr. Platt's notes could wait until tomorrow.
She looked up at him, to find him watching her with an expression
she couldn't interpret. He smiled encouragingly at her, the
expression gone, and she nodded slowly.

"Yes. Let's do that. We may even be able to get it into
tomorrow's morning edition.

"How about a quick follow-up reiterating what the fire chief
told me?" Clark suggested. "From there, we can work on properly
exposing this guy. If we work on it tonight, we can make
tomorrow's evening edition with both stories. How about that?"

It took them several hours to craft a story they were both happy
with. It was close to midnight when they finished, and if she'd
been alone, Lois would have simply flown home.

Clark, however, had suggested that he see her home safely, and
after a brief consideration, she had agreed. It seemed easier
than the machinations she would have had to go through to avoid
going down to the lobby with him, or to stop him hailing her a
cab.

Even Mad Dog Lane wouldn't have worked. She was learning that
Clark Kent was chivalrous to a fault; he would have accompanied
her down to the lobby and seen her safely on her way regardless
of how ill-tempered she was. In the end, they shared a cab, since
her apartment was apparently on his way home.

He had offered to stop by in the morning and help her carry the
box of Dr. Platt's notes, and again, it was easier to agree than
to find a believable excuse to refuse his help.

-----

As soon as they arrived at the Planet the next morning, Lois
commandeered one of the conference rooms. There was no morning
meeting today; Perry was closeted with the 'suits' for the
monthly business meeting. After setting down the box of Dr.
Platt's research notes, Clark excused himself without further
explanation, saying only that he would be back shortly.

After the amicable cab ride this morning, Lois wasn't sure what
to make of that. Well, she wasn't his keeper. Deliberately
pushing it to the back of her mind, she emptied the box and set
it on the floor, then sat down and pulled the first bundle of
notes toward her. She looked up as the door opened, to see Clark
coming into the room with a smile and two Metropolis Coffee
cups.

"Surprise," he said, still grinning, and set one of the cups in
front of her. "Your usual; ready to get to work?"

"If you're done gallivanting around, Kent," she replied
snootily, then spoiled it by smiling back and taking a long,
appreciative sip.

They read steadily, doggedly through the morning, occasionally
calling Jimmy when they needed more information. Finally, Lois
sighed and leaned back, and Clark glanced over at her with a
sympathetic smile. "It sure would be easier to read this stuff if
it was in more of a… conventional format, wouldn't it?" he
asked.

"Or even if the man's handwriting didn't look like a spider
dipped in ink had crawled across the page…" Lois said, recalling
the phrase from an essay she'd read in college. She'd found it
particularly evocative, but even the mental picture she'd formed
at the time didn't come close to the reality of Dr. Platt's
notes.

She stretched. "I need a break from this."

Flying would be perfect -- except that she couldn't do that in
the middle of the day. She'd have to wait for the cover of night.
She sighed again. Fine. In the meantime, though -

Jimmy rapped on the door and stuck his head in. "Hey, guys.
Lunchtime. The Chief sent me out for Chinese -- c'mon and grab
some before it's all gone."

As they rose and prepared to follow him, Lois asked, "Have you
made any progress on that code?"

He paused in the doorway. "No -- but…" he looked around and
lowered his voice. "I finally… uh… *found* the program for the
countdown launch. I was going to work through that today -- see
if Dr. Platt's code is in there. I'll need to go through it line
by line -- that'll take a while, you know."

"Well, get started on it right after lunch," she said.

"Uh, well… I have some other stuff to do, too. A couple of the
City News Desk reporters have some -"

"This is more important," Lois cut in decisively. "Grab what you
need and get in here, Jimmy. Bring your lunch." She gestured to
the conference room's computer. "Clark and I don't need that
computer right now, so you can get started on it right there."

"But what about the City News -" Jimmy started.

"If you're in here, they'll leave you alone," she answered
matter-of-factly.

Jimmy glanced at Clark, who shrugged and said with a laugh, "You
heard her, Jim. I'm certainly not going to argue with her."

"There, see? Even Clark agrees."

Ignoring her partner's laughing, "Actually, it's more that I
don't dare *disagree*, Lois," she wheedled, "C'mon, Jimmy. You
know that's what you'd rather do."

"Well... I was going to get the drudge research out of the way
first, then work on this computer code. But… Yeah, okay. It's
kinda like getting to eat my dessert before dinner, you know?"
Jimmy happily led the way to where lunch was laid out in the
break area.

They filled plates and headed back to the conference room, where
Jimmy immediately settled in at the computer, donned the
headphones of his music player, and was instantly oblivious to
everything except the lines of code on the screen in front of
him.

Despite his presence, though, the room seemed more private than
it had in the morning. Maybe it was the intimacy of eating
together, or maybe she was just getting too comfortable with
Clark. Lois realized suddenly that she'd forgotten to be Mad Dog
Lane with him.

Abruptly, she pushed her plate away. She *had* to remember to
keep him at arm's length!

"Would you like anything else?" the man in question asked. She
looked up and caught his eye; he was leaning back in his chair
and watching her, and she could see clearly the admiration in his
eyes.

She almost panicked. Caught in his gaze, for a moment she
couldn't look away, and the room seemed to narrow down to just
the two of them. Heart pounding, she looked down, shuffling Dr.
Platt's notes around and no doubt disarranging the carefully
ordered pages. But right now, she didn't care about that.

"Lois?" 

"No!" she cried. To her disgust, she even sounded panicky. With
an effort, she dredged up a little bit of Mad Dog Lane. "I'm
fine. Let's get back to work," she said flatly.

Clark -- no, *Kent* -- looked at her, one eyebrow raised in
inquiry.

She looked challengingly back at him. Her grasp on Mad Dog Lane
felt much firmer. "Look, we've got a lot to go through," she said
crisply. "We need to get on it right away."

She turned away from him deliberately, and went back to reading
Dr. Platt's notes. After a moment, she heard the rustle of
movement that indicated that he, too, had gone back to reading.

Okay. Mad Dog was back. Things ought to go much more smoothly
now.

---

Around four o'clock, Jimmy let out a sudden whoop, startling
both reporters.
"Woo-hoo! Guys, I've got it! We were right! See, here -" He
tapped the monitor as they rose and came over to him. "These
lines -" He pointed to a spot halfway down a screen filled with
lines of closely spaced gibberish that meant nothing to them.
"Someone inserted this -- this is all nonsense. It's not a loop
or a command -- it's basically just a break in the code. It
doesn't mean anything and it doesn't tell the system to *do*
anything…"

"And that would cause the whole system to…?" Lois broke in.

"Yes! Exactly! The launch would just shut down. This is so… so
*devious* -- the shut-down would seem inexplicable -- there'd be
no obvious reason for it."

"Wouldn't they think to look for it?" Kent asked.

"Well, no. Not right away, probably. 'Cause, you know, for this
to work, the sabotage code was inserted *after* the whole program
was certified and test-run. Why would they even consider it was a
programming issue? First they'd assume it was an external system
fault like… you know, a faulty component -- electronics, or
wiring, or… conduits or something. That kind of thing. They'd go
over the whole shuttle, practically with a magnifying glass,
before they went back to the code."

"It would have to be someone who works for the program," Kent
said thoughtfully. 

"Oh, yeah -- the only way to insert these lines is to have access
to the whole code. And believe me, guys, the only way to have
access is to work there. I mean, it took me a couple of days to
crack their security codes enough to get a copy of this…" Jimmy
was practically bouncing in the chair.

"Not just *anyone* who works there…" Lois said. "Someone -"

"Do you think Dr. Platt *did* do this?" Jimmy interrupted her.

She rolled her eyes. "Get real, Jimmy. Why would he call our
attention to it if he was the culprit?"

"Well… you know, if he was sorry for doing it, or something…"
Jimmy trailed off as she shook her head.

She thought she heard the tiniest, smothered snort of laughter
from Kent, but she ignored it. "Jimmy, you are *so* naïve. If
that were the case, he'd have just told us about it -- not left
us to figure it out from his notes. As a matter of fact, he
doesn't know who it is, either. I bet he suspects someone,
though. That's why he told me -- us -- about this. He wants us to
figure out who it is and stop them."

"Jim," Kent broke in. "Can you print that out and mark the lines
for us?

"Sure -- but it'll take a lot of paper. This is probably… Oh, I
don't know… Maybe a couple hundred pages? Around there… Why can't
I just put it on a floppy?"

"We're going to need it on paper so we can highlight the
nonsense lines," Lois explained." And then take it to the
authorities. It'll be harder to find if we just transfer the
entire body of code to a floppy."

"Oh. Uh… You know, I didn't exactly obtain that program
*legally*," Jimmy pointed out worriedly.

"Don't worry -- we won't name you, Jim," Kent assured him. "Right
now, let's just say you're one of our 'confidential sources.'"

"A confidential… Oh, hey, CK -- I like that! A 'confidential
source'... Wow!" He sat straighter in the chair, making Lois
wonder briefly if he was confusing 'confidential' with
'confident.' "Okay, guys, gimme, like… twenty minutes, okay? I'll
have it printed and highlighted and ready to go."

"Go to it, Jimmy," Lois said.

"Good job, Jim. Thank you," Kent added.

And Lois was willing to admit, albeit grudgingly, that he had a
point. Jimmy *had* done a good job. Without him, they'd probably
still be struggling over those few lines of code.

Catching the young man's eye, she flashed him a genuine smile.
"Yes, thanks, Jimmy. You've done an excellent job. And wasn't it
more fun than doing… whatever… for the City Desk guys?" Her smile
widened as all traces of the confident young man vanished and he
blushed and stammered a semi-coherent agreement.

She glanced at Kent, who grinned and shook his head at her
mock-reprovingly, and she found herself fighting a smile.
Honestly, the man just wasn't intimidated by Mad Dog Lane at all.
She couldn't decide if that made him very foolish or very brave.

Well, she'd worry about that later.

"I think it's time we went and talked to Dr. Platt," she said
briskly. "We've gone through most of his research notes, and we
know that code was inserted into the shuttle's program -- "

He nodded. "And if we can find out whom he suspects… Here, I'll
get his research refastened into bundles and stash the box…
Where? Under one of our desks for now?" At her nod, he began
gathering the stacks of notes. "…While you collect whatever we
need to interview Dr. Platt -"

"Our notes. Notepads for both of us… Pens, of course… Oh, my
tape recorder…" she began to itemize what they would need.

"…And hopefully, by the time we're ready, Jimmy will have that
code printed." He hefted the box easily and left the conference
room.

By five o'clock, armed with the paraphernalia of reporting, they
hailed a cab and headed for the place Samuel Platt had told Lois
he was staying.

-----

The Bradner Apartments building looked like it might be slated
for demolition soon, if it wasn't already. There were several
boarded windows, one of which also sported a grimy 'NO
TRESPASSING' sign, partly obscured by graffiti. There was another
sign near the door that read, 'Bradner Apartments -- FOR RENT'
with 'Weekly rates' in smaller letters underneath.

"Well, this explains why he looks like a street person," Lois
commented as they picked their way over the broken, weed-choked
sidewalk and several bags of trash toward the main entrance. "He
might as well be. Do you think he's hiding out?" 

"No… The building's still in use." Kent replied. "Remember, he
was fired. He has no job; this is obviously a cheap place to
live."

The front door, grimy glass on the top half and graffiti-covered
plywood on the lower half, opened into a dingy lobby. A
bored-looking attendant of uncertain gender sat behind the desk,
a cigarette hanging from his -- or her -- mouth and a cell phone
to his or her ear. As they entered, he -- or she -- scowled at
them and moved the phone away slightly with a grumbled "Hang on a
sec, babe."

"We got one-room apartments and a loft available," he or she -
there were no clues in the voice, either -- began as they
approached. "Rates by the week -"

"We aren't here to rent; we're looking for Samuel Platt," Lois
said shortly.

"Whatever," came the reply. "He's got one of the suites. Fourth
floor, 403." The attendant jerked a thumb toward the elevator and
refocused his or her attention on the cell phone. 

"The stairs, I think," Kent suggested as they crossed the
stained and buckled linoleum. "It's… marginally safer, I
suspect."

Lois didn't bother to agree; she merely turned with him toward
the stairs.

The stairwell obviously did double duty as a storage area. Or a
junkyard. There was a battered, rusty bicycle chained to the
bottom stair post. They passed a shoe, a broken light bulb,
several Styrofoam cups -- no Metropolis Coffee Company products
here -- and a tangle of plastic hangers, stepped over a few empty
boxes, moved around a broken chair and several bags of trash, and
began climbing. 

The fourth floor hallway, as dingy as the lobby, was empty.
Suite 403 was halfway down the hall on their left. As they
approached, they could see that the door was not secure. It stood
just slightly ajar, and when Lois reached for the handle, the
door opened easily.

Lois and Clark glanced at each other before he cautiously pushed
the door wider.

She tried to look through the walls into the apartment, but
found she couldn't. The best she could achieve was a fairly murky
view of the room -- a bathroom, which was empty -- beyond the
outer wall.

The paint in these old tenements was often lead-based; city
zoning prohibited such paint for newer buildings, but made no
provision for removing it from the older buildings. She'd found
from experience at Met U, some of whose buildings were quite old,
that there was often enough lead in the paint to block most of
her special vision. She could usually see through the thickness
of one wall, somewhat blurrily, but more than one wall's
thickness was beyond her abilities. It was like trying to see the
bottom of a muddy pond.

Very softly, Clark asked, "Should we call the police?"

She hesitated, and then answered, "Not… yet. Clark, he… he
looked like a street bum. Several of the man's contemporaries
implied he was more than just a little odd. And… he had one shoe
and one slipper… Maybe he just… lives this way." 

Clark -- *Kent* -- nodded, then rapped on the open door. "Dr.
Platt?" he called. There was no answer.

Lois extended her hearing. There was a heartbeat -- rather fast,
but steady -- and a television show, both coming from the room
ahead of them. The suite -- surely a misnomer -- was laid out like
a hotel room, with the bathroom and a miniscule kitchen on their
left as they entered. The room widened toward the left at the end
of the short hallway, which was strewn with boxes, books, scraps
of paper, and a few crumpled items of clothing.

They picked their way through the mess just inside the door, and
Kent called again, "Dr. Platt?"

Lois tried again to use her special vision to look through the
wall, but because she was looking at an angle from the hallway,
she found herself looking into the bathroom again. But the
heartbeat remained steady, if fast, in her ears, and the TV
droned on. Maybe the man was sleeping. Moving slightly ahead of
Kent, Lois turned the corner, saying briskly, "Dr. Platt? You
must not have heard us…" 

A gray cat perched on the bed closest to the door, and she
realized instantly that it was the cat's heartbeat she was
hearing. At the same moment, she heard Kent behind her say
urgently, "Wait, Lois -" as she stepped past the end of the bed.

Only to freeze in her tracks. Dr. Platt -- what was left of the
man -- was sprawled on the floor between the beds, obviously dead.
Maybe he hadn't been a poor housekeeper. The place looked like it
had been ransacked, and whoever had ransacked it must not have
found what they were looking for. Or maybe they had, but had
killed him anyway. She'd seen bodies before, but never someone
she knew… And… Oh, God, it looked like he might have fought back,
and his killer -- or killers -- had shown no mercy. And after…
His cat had come to sit beside him at some point, because there
were small bloody paw prints around him and on the bedspread -- 

With a small sound of distress, she turned away -- to find Clark
right behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand
curving up over the back of her head, pressing her protectively
to him. She could hear his heartbeat without any special use of
her senses, strong and steady as she clung to him; it drowned out
the sound of the cat's. His arms were comforting, secure -- it
felt like coming home.

"I won't let the dragons win," she whispered, not realizing
she'd said it loud enough for him to hear until Clark pulled back
slightly and repeated, "Dragons, Lois?"

She drew a shuddering breath. She needed to be strong, but she
wanted to stay where she was just a little longer, drawing
strength from him. "Dragons, Clark." She said it urgently,
looking up at him, hoping he'd understand. "We can't let the
dragons win. We have to stop them -- whoever did this."

His arms tightened around her, and he drew her head back to his
chest. His voice, deep and steady, said just above her head,
"Don't worry, Lois. We'll both fight the dragons. And Lois --
they won't stand a chance."

After a moment, she took a deep breath. Clark's arms loosened as
she stepped back slightly, but he didn't let go of her until he'd
drawn her back into the hallway, away from Dr. Platt's body. She
looked up into his dark, sympathetic eyes, and said softly,
"Thanks." 

"You're welcome," he replied equally softly. "C'mon, let's go
out into the hallway. We need to call the police." 

-----

It was several hours before they were back at the Planet,
sitting at their desks. Treated at first with some suspicion,
which was understandable under the circumstances, they'd gone
from possible suspects to welcome sources of background
information when Inspector Bill Henderson showed up.

They were almost the only two in the newsroom; the normal
workday had ended well before they had returned. Lois looked over
at her partner, who was concentrating on his computer screen as
he wrote up his part of their notes. She knew what had happened
to Dr. Platt bothered him as least as much as it bothered her -
not only had he said as much in the taxi on their way back to the
Planet, but he had chastised a young patrolman who'd made an
inappropriate joke about the situation.

Watching him, she admitted that it was impossible to dislike
him. Before she could think better of it, she said, "Clark?"

He looked up, his gaze softening as his eyes met hers. "Yes,
Lois?"

"Thanks for…" she began awkwardly, "…you know… Thanks for
earlier…"

He gave her a sweet smile. "It's all right, Lois. You already
thanked me."

"I know I'm… probably difficult to work with," she continued.
"And I'm not very nice to you. It's not like you weren't probably
warned before you even started working with me, but I'm… I'm the
poster child for 'doesn't play well with others'…"

"Lois," he insisted, "it's okay, really -"
 
"I'm not sure I can change that about me, Clark." She kept
talking, needing him to understand.

"Lois." He stood and came over to her side of the two desks, and
squatted down beside her chair so that his eyes were almost level
with hers. "I don't want you to change. I… think we're becoming
friends?" He smiled at her, and she nodded tentatively.

"I like you just the way you are." He looked intently at her,
unsmiling. "I like everything about you." She stared back at him
for a moment, and suddenly it was too much. She felt her heart
racing, and her tension level rose.

He seemed to understand that things were getting a little too
personal for her. Standing up, he moved back. Tucking his hands
into his pockets, he leaned casually against the side of her desk
where it met his, putting at least three feet of space between
them. Smiling teasingly, he continued, "I even like you when
you're cranky."

His comment lightened the mood instantly.

"Watch it, Kent," she mock-growled at him.

With a laugh, he returned to his chair, and both went back their
notes.

After a few moments, though, she stopped again. With a sigh, she
said, "Who -- why would they… Clark, he was harmless! I was the
only one who believed him, anyway. Everyone else thought he was
some down-and-out has-been, a nutcase. All you had to do was look
at him -- the crazy clothes, all his 'research' in a paper bag…
Whoever did this could have just written him off as a mental
case! Why… *torture* him and kill him?"

"But you did believe him, Lois." Clark said it gently. "What if
someone knew he'd come to you? An investigative reporter with an
excellent reputation as the absolute *best* in the business. What
if that someone had millions of dollars tied up in an illegal
scheme? Would they take the chance you'd write him off as a
nutcase?" 

"I -"

"And have you considered that you may be in danger, Lois?" he
continued. "I… can't force you to, but you need to be careful
when you're out on your own." 

She shook her head dismissively. She was at less risk for danger
than he would ever know, but she couldn't tell him that. "I don't
think anyone knew -" 

"Lois, the *whole newsroom* saw him here!" Clark exclaimed.

"Are you suggesting one of my -- our -- coworkers had something to
do with this?" she demanded. 

"No, of course not! He could have been followed -- someone could
have been in the lobby, or even on the street outside. All they
had to do was watch the man enter -- it's no mystery as to what
sort of business is housed in this building!"

About to snap back at him, she paused. "Okay…" she grudgingly
conceded. "Maybe…"

He didn't say anything else, just sat looking at her. After a
moment, she said, "Okay, okay! Assuming you're right, we need to
work even harder to figure out what's going on and who's behind
it. And with only Dr. Platt's research notes, it's going to be
hard."

"But we're going to keep at it until we figure it out and stop
them," Clark said. "We're going to fight your dragons, and we're
going to win."

She stared at him. Princess Elizabeth's prince had been a total
loss, but it was beginning to look like Lois might have one that
was a champion.

-----

"You know, just before Dr. Platt showed up, I was looking into a
local philanthropist's allegations of inferior materials and
shoddy construction on Space Station Prometheus," Lois said.

She and Clark were sitting on her living room floor, finishing a
pizza. They had spent several hours painstakingly rereading Dr.
Platt's notes, and when he'd offered to get them a pizza she'd
endorsed the idea wholeheartedly.

"This guy's made this generous offer -- more than once -- to fund
a space station. Not to fund *this* space station -- to fund a new
one. To start over entirely. New design, new name, and so on."
She looked over at Clark.

"Kind of over the top, I'd say." He placed another slice of
pizza on each of their plates. "Is he on the up-and-up?"

"Well, this guy, Lex Luthor , is… He's been voted Man of the
Year three times in a row, Clark. He's squeaky clean." 

"But…?" Clark asked encouragingly.

"But in my opinion, he's *too* clean." She shook her head. "I
mean, just for kicks, I had Jimmy look for stuff -- anything -- on
the guy. There's a ton of stuff on him -- press releases,
charitable contributions, the people he employs, the companies he
owns… But there's no history, Clark. I mean, *nothing*. Jimmy
couldn't find *anything* on the man before he came to Metropolis.
He had to have grown up somewhere! But there's nothing. Just his
press release bio, a polished rags-to-riches story without any
details. The whole thing is just too… pretty."

"You think he has something to do with the problems this project
is experiencing." It wasn't a question.

She shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. I put it all on the back
burner of stuff to investigate, you know, because it did seem
like some of the space station's problems stemmed from faulty
parts or poor construction. But based on what we've found in Dr.
Platt's notes -- you know, the deliberate sabotage in the shuttle
code, and with… what happened to Dr. Platt, I wonder…"

"If we should be investigating Lex Luthor more thoroughly?"

"Yes… It's just…" She gave voice to her thoughts. "There's no
sign of his involvement at all -- absolutely nothing that we can
tie to him. But -- his offer… I mean, a whole *different* space
station… And there's something about him… The one time I met him
in person, all my… investigative reporter senses just *screamed*
at me." She looked at Clark. "I can't explain it…"

"You don't have to -- I've had that feeling before. Can we go
through what you *do* have on the man again? Let's see what we
can find if we both look through it. Tomorrow?" 

"It's a date," she said without thinking. "Oh! I mean, not a…
*date* date. I… What I meant was… You know, just… a confirmation
that we'll go over that information Jimmy found me. Tomorrow, at
the Planet…" Good lord, she was babbling. She *never* babbled.
Hardly ever, anyway.

"Lois." He briefly rested his hand on hers, and the sensation as
well as the action stopped her words. She looked up at him. "I
know what you meant. I'll see you tomorrow at the Planet, and
we'll start on whatever you have so far. Okay?" 

So saying, he rose to his feet, curling his hand around hers
long enough to tug her to her own feet, and then he was offering
his quiet "Good night," as he opened her apartment door.

The sensation of his hand on hers lingered for what seemed like
an awfully long time.

-----

They didn't actually get started on their research plans until
the afternoon.

After the morning meeting, Perry kept them behind for an update
on their investigation, including Dr. Platt's death. When he'd
heard all of it, and they'd showed him Jimmy's printout with the
sabotage lines highlighted, he said, "I think we should print
what we have so far."

"But… Perry, we weren't able to confirm anything with Dr.
Platt," Lois said. "All we really have are suspicions."

"I'm talking about your discovery that one of the space
shuttles' main systems programming codes contains a small amount
of possibly deliberate errors that render the program
un-executable," Perry said blandly.

Lois and Clark looked at each other. "Have you been talking to
Jimmy?" Lois demanded.

Perry chuckled. "Now, darlin', I didn't get to be the editor of
this fine paper because -"

"Yeah, yeah, because you can yodel," she finished impatiently.
"What I meant was… *Can* you yodel, Perry?" she asked,
momentarily diverted by a sudden mental image of the editor on a
mountainside like in those TV commercials for the sore-throat
thingies. No, wait, those guys used horns…

Clark's laugh brought her back to the present. "Not that I want
you to," she said hastily, as both men laughed harder.

She glared at them both. "What I *meant* was, that was a pretty
technical way to avoid saying 'deliberate sabotage,' Perry."

"Well, you have no proof it was actually sabotage. You can't
confirm it with Dr. Platt, nor does he directly address who might
be responsible for it. What you *do* have is proof that the code
is flawed. Making the code's errors public knowledge will force
EPRAD to take you seriously when you present them with the
highlighted printout given to you by your unnamed source."

"What if delivering that printout to EPRAD headquarters plays
into the wrong person's hands?" Clark asked.

"We publish the story first. Then even if you deliver it
unintentionally directly to the author of those lines, they'll
have to fix it -- or answer to the inevitable Committee on Science
investigation."

"So…" Lois ticked off each point. "We write the first part of
the story -- that a former employee brought to our attention his
suspicions of sabotage. And that he provided us with the code -
well, the errors he'd found -- which we have in turn presented to
EPRAD after further investigation backs up the man's claims…"

"Yes -" Perry held up a cautionary hand. "But only the man's
claims that there are errors. The sabotage is still only alleged.
From there, go into the problems the whole program has been
experiencing, and Dr. Platt's death. Hold back your suspicions
that it's part of a bigger plot, and who might be behind it." He
stood up. "That's a story for another day."

He handed the printout to Lois. "That's it, kids. Get writin'.
I've gotta go light a fire under a couple of people. I want that
story by noon, you hear?"

"We're on it, Chief," Lois said briskly as Clark added, "Yes,
sir." 

Tucking the printout into a folder, she exchanged a grin with
Clark as their editor waved a hand dismissively at them with a
grumbled, "And don't call me 'sir'!" 

They spent the next hour writing and then fine-tuning the story,
then sent it to Perry. Then they delivered a copy of the flawed
code to EPRAD with a request for comments. Not unpredictably,
there were none, outside of an assurance that their information
would be forwarded to the appropriate department.

Glancing back at the building as their taxi pulled away, Lois
said with a grin, "I bet he just throws that printout in some
non-urgent in-box. I wonder how he'll explain that when our
article appears in the evening edition of the Daily Planet?"

Clark's laughter, warm and rich, made her feel the way she did
when she drank hot chocolate.

-----

Once again, late afternoon found them sitting in the conference
room, this time looking through the information on Lex Luthor
that Jimmy had given Lois. There was so much of it that, like Dr.
Platt's research, they needed more space than their desks
offered.

With a heavy sigh, Lois pushed the papers in front of her away
in frustration. "Nothing!"

"Maybe we're going about it wrong…" Clark mused, pushing his own
stack of papers aside. "Instead of scouring all these sources for
something that may not exist…" 

"Clark, it *has* to be out there somewhere!" she protested.

"But it could have been deliberately removed -- you suggested
that last night," he countered.

"So, you're saying…?"

"What if we keep going over everything that *is* out there… but
instead of hunting for a background that isn't there, or anything
obvious, we look for… I don't know -- subtle discrepancies?
Coincidences. Lucky breaks in his business dealings. Things like
that."
 
She nodded. "Okay… So we really need more information about the
companies he owns, the companies he's acquired… Stuff like that,
instead of stuff about the man himself."

"Exactly."

There was a quick rap on the open conference room door as Jimmy
entered.

"Jimmy!" Lois began, "Just the guy we need -"

"Hey, you gotta see this, guys!" Jimmy interrupted excitedly.
"EPRAD's just announced that the next shuttle launch will take
place as planned, a week from today." He held up a copy of the
evening edition with their story, under the headline 'Possible
Sabotage Discovered in Space Shuttle Launch Program,' featured
prominently on the front page. "The news anchor referred to your
story -- kind of, anyway… He said an investigative news team had
called EPRAD's attention to what appeared to be deliberate
sabotage."

"Huh. Faster than I expected," Lois whispered to Clark, who
chuckled as they followed the still-chattering Jimmy out into the
newsroom.

"…I think they're gonna let your Dr. Platt take the fall, though
- they said a 'disgruntled former employee' was suspected, blah,
blah, blah… And -"

By now the three of them had joined the crowd around the
newsroom's TV monitors, and Jimmy was shushed by several people.
The anchor was saying, "…EPRAD has stated that their experts have
rechecked every systems program, and have verified that only the
launch sequence was affected. The code is being corrected, and an
internal investigation is ongoing. And now, in other news…"

"All right, people, show's over! Get those stories finished up;
it's almost quittin' time!" Perry called loudly, and the crowd
began to disperse, discussing the news as they went.

"…A lot of people were surprised that the Congress of Nations
didn't take Mr. Luthor up on that offer…" one of the City Desk
reporters commented, heading toward his department. "I know I
was…" 

"Man, that guy's got his hand in a lot of pots," came the reply.
"…'Course, he's rolling in dough -- sounds like he's just what the
space program needs…"

Rolling her eyes, Lois moved back toward the conference room.
"C'mon -- we've still got a lot to do. Jimmy, I need you to --
*we* need you to find us everything you can on a bunch of
companies… Here, Clark's got a list in here…"

As the two men followed her through the door, Jimmy asked, "Have
you seen the model of Space Station Luthor, CK? It's on display
in the lobby of the LNN building. We -- Perry, Lois, me, and a
bunch of other Daily Planet people, saw it the night he unveiled
it, at his big Orchid Ball -"

"Perry, Lois, *and I* saw the model, Jimmy," Lois stated
sharply. "Now look, we have barely a *week* to figure this out!
We've got to get some kind of proof… *Someone* wants to stop that
program, and I for one don't think they'll just go away. If the
code is fixed, they'll try something else." 

Clark nodded grimly. "Yes -- I think so, too. Jimmy," he
continued, turning to the young man, "we need you to dig up some
more information on a bunch of companies Luthor Industries has
acquired over the last several years. Whatever you can find, and
we're not really interested in the glossy press release sort of
stuff, okay?"

Jimmy took the list Clark proffered, skimmed down it and
whistled softly. "Holy smoke! He's gotten all these in the last
*couple* of years? Man, you don't want much, do you?" He flashed
them both a grin. "I suppose you want it yesterday, right,
Lois?"

She snorted, flashing a mildly exasperated look at Clark as he
chuckled. "I *suppose* you can start on it in the morning," she
said with a heavy, put-upon sigh. "Clark and I will just have to
do what we can with what we have…"

Jimmy nodded seriously. Lois Lane in a teasing mood was a pretty
new phenomenon, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it. "Well,
you know, I can probably get you at least some of this in… Oh, I
don't know -- gimme at least a couple hours, okay? I'm gonna have
to do a little cracking, but you'd be surprised at how many
companies have only a basic security setup… You can break in
pretty easily if you use something like L0phtcrack -" He stopped
abruptly. "Uh… well, never mind. Anyway, I'll… uh, get onto your
research right away, okay?" He turned and started for the door,
then stopped. "Um, Lois? CK? I'm still gonna be an unnamed
source, right?" 

Lois lost the battle to suppress her smile. "Yeah, Jimmy -- don't
worry. We'll protect you just like we do all our sources." 

Her partner's rich, hot chocolate laugh flowed around her as the
young man exited.

They didn't work past six o'clock; Lois had skipped her last two
regular Tae Kwon Do sessions, what with the late night spent
writing the story to expose -- again -- the slumlord, and then last
night, rereading Dr. Platt's notes over pizza with Clark. She
really needed to do the sparring tonight; she hadn't realized how
much she still used the exercises to help distract her from an
intense investigation before heading into the enforced slower
pace of the weekend. News didn't take the weekend off, but access
to a lot of information did. Government officials, city offices,
and many other sources were usually unavailable on weekends.

And Clark apparently had somewhere to go, too, although she
refused to ask outright, preferring that he volunteer any
information.

He didn't.

It *had* to be a girlfriend, she thought glumly, and then pulled
herself up sharply. It was nothing to do with her. They were
*friends*. He'd said that -- "I think we're becoming friends,
Lois?" And she'd agreed. It was… nice to have a friend. She
didn't need anything more.

-----

Monday found them back in the newsroom, poring through the first
set of documents Jimmy had ready for them.

Tuesday and Wednesday also found them looking through still more
information Jimmy had dredged up from who knew where. It was
slow, tedious work because there were an astoundingly large
number of companies which were in some way associated with Luthor
Industries. And they had to go through the financial documents
page by page.

The pile of discarded documents grew steadily, but they also had
a second stack, growing much more slowly, of documents detailing
unexpected declines in the fortunes of some of the companies.
Sudden inexplicable stock downturns, or withdrawal of financial
backing. Large business loans suddenly coming due. And in two
cases, the unexpected death of someone of importance. And each
company, shortly after its reversal of fortune, had been snapped
up by Luthor Industries.

Thursday morning, they took a break from the research when Perry
sent them both out to a press conference at EPRAD. There, they
listened as the director of the entire space program, the
director of the Space Station Prometheus project, and the
director of the shuttle program assured the members of the press
that the programs were safe, secure, and on track. The assurances
themselves took quite a while, leaving very little time for
questions.

On the way back to the newsroom, Lois and Clark agreed that the
reduced time for questions had quite possibly been deliberate. "I
don't think they want Lane and Kent asking uncomfortable
questions," she'd said with a grin.

Clark had agreed laughingly, and they'd made their way up to the
newsroom amicably discussing the statements they'd heard.

They were currently sitting in one of the conference rooms
again, side by side, as they worked their way through the pages
and pages -- and pages -- of financial documents. With a huge
sigh, Lois tossed the one she'd been reading in the general
direction of their discard pile, and propping her elbows on the
table, dropped her head into her hands.

"I am so *tired* of reading about this guy I could scream!"

Beside her, Clark chuckled sympathetically. Lifting her head,
she glanced over at him. Tossing his own document on the discard
stack, he smiled at her and teased, "Tired enough that you're
ready to work on one of Perry's little extra story assignments?"

She tossed her head at him, and with a straight face, said
haughtily, "A true investigative reporter *never* gets that
tired. Expecting me to write some of those drabble stories is
like… like asking a leopard to eat oatmeal." The snooty effect
was ruined by the giggle she was unable to completely suppress.

He laughed as he picked up another document and tossed it
lightly in front of her. "Here you go, tiger -- sink your teeth
into that one, then." As she reached for it with a groan, he
grabbed a second document for himself and began to read through
it.

She'd barely gotten halfway down the first page when Clark
suddenly straightened up in his chair. "Lois -- look at this!" 

She leaned toward him and he tipped the document so she could
read it more easily. "You know this list of companies Luthor's
taken over recently? Well, look at the way Jimmy's got some of
them listed."

"He's got them all linked together, instead of listed
separately," she said. "Why?"

"Well, I wonder… There was something I read in one of the news
articles on Luthor's 'empire.' It's here somewhere…" Clark
flipped through a stack of documents they'd read earlier in the
day. "It says he's made use of shell corporations to… Let's see…
Here: '…Been called a corporate raider by some disgruntled
rivals…' No, that's not it. 'Savvy businessman…' Here. Here it
is: '…Has grouped several failing businesses under shell
corporations to more easily obtain financing for them, thereby
preserving the businesses and eventually bringing them back from
the brink of financial failure…' So -- could they all be shell
corporations?"

"Shell companies have been used for tax evasion, haven't they?"
Lois asked. "Or for tax *avoidance*, anyway… And for money
laundering."

"Well, seeing the way these companies are all linked together
made me think of that article. Maybe these're all companies that
have shells. The same article, by the way, said he's got a knack
for finding companies in trouble and basically absorbing them
into his empire."

"Huh. *Finding* companies in trouble, or creating trouble for
companies and then acquiring them?" Lois muttered.

"That's what I'm hoping we'll find," Clark reminded her. "Some
sort of trouble in a previously prosperous company that made it
susceptible to a takeover."

"Well, first let's find out if Jimmy listed these companies like
this on purpose." She sighed and stood up. "Then it's back to the
documents. If Luthor *has* sabotaged companies so he can scavenge
them, he's certainly hidden his tracks well." 

She stuck her head out the conference room door, and seeing
Jimmy across the newsroom, stuck two fingers in her mouth and
whistled. Although it was pretty ear piercing, no one except
Jimmy reacted to it. When he looked her way, she beckoned him
with a smile. He rose from the computer he'd been either
dismantling or repairing, dumped an armload of stuff on the
corner of the desk and trotted toward the conference room.

Returning to the table, she encountered Clark's slightly
incredulous expression. "What?"

"Uh… No one else in the newsroom even looked up when you did
that," he said wonderingly.

"Nah, they're used to it," Jimmy answered for her as he entered
the room. "It started as a joke -- Perry did it once when I was
digging around in some computer files and didn't hear him call me
-"

Clark's eyebrow shot up again. "Uh, Jim… Perry's got a pretty…
commanding voice," he commented mildly.

As Lois laughed, Jimmy said with a grin, "Yeah, well, I get
kinda… carried away doing computer stuff sometimes, you know? So
anyway, he whistled, and I looked up, and now sometimes one of
the reporters'll do that if they see me messing around with a
computer." Turning to Lois, he continued, "Whatcha need, Lois?" 

She handed him the printout. "Jimmy, those companies you
researched for us -- it looks like some of them are shell
corporations. But you've got all of these names linked together.
Was that intentional?"

He took the document and skimmed over it. "Oh -- yeah. Yes, I
linked 'em like that on purpose. When I started to dig around, it
was like… those rows of dominoes where you knock the first one
down and then all the others fall in a line. Or -- like those
wooden nesting dolls, you know? You open one up, and there's
another one inside it -- and then another one inside that. All
these companies -- I'd start with one, but the deeper I looked,
the more there were. Each one led to another." 

"Like here -- this one…" He tapped the first name in one of the
linked groups; Clark stood and joined them as Jimmy continued,
"…This company, Upco, turns out to be just a name. So someone is
using it to do some sort of business, but it isn't actually a
company itself. Like you said, a shell corporation. So I go
looking for information on Upco, thinking I'll be able to tell
you what it does or who's on the board of directors… And I find
another company called BRC. So I dig into BRC, and it turns out
*it's* a shell corporation, too… I don't know why, guys, but
quite a few of these companies are shell corporations several
layers deep." 

"Wait a minute…" Lois exclaimed. She took the printout from
Jimmy and pointed to a name at the end of one of the strings.
"Clark, this company -- NovaCo -- wasn't it in Dr Platt's notes?"


Without waiting for his answer, she whirled toward the
conference room door. "Here -- we need his notes…"

"I'll get 'em," Jimmy volunteered. "Is that box is still under
your desk, CK?"

"Yes -- thanks, Jim."

Within a couple of minutes he was back with the box, which he
set on the table.

"Thanks, Jimmy," Lois said, already taking the neatly
rubber-banded stacks out of the box. "It's gonna take me a while
to find it… Why on earth the man couldn't write on ordinary paper
like everyone else..."

"Did you need anything else?" Jimmy asked, as Clark began to
help Lois remove stacks.

"What, Jimmy? …We'll have to page through each one," she told
Clark. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't the first two stacks… No,
Jimmy, that's all for the moment. Thanks," she added.

She dropped back into her chair. "This is going to take more
than just 'a while,' Clark." She sighed. Now would be an
excellent time to make use of her enhanced speed, but
unfortunately, she couldn't.

"Here." Clark set down his stack. "How about if I go get us some
coffee? The gourmet kind, with chocolate? I think we might need
it." 

"Good idea." Maybe she could do a little… speed-reading while he
was gone.

--- 

By the time Clark came back, she'd zipped -- sort of -- through
two stacks. Well, perhaps 'zipped' wasn't exactly the right
description. The quality of Dr. Platt's writing precluded the use
of much of her speed, after all, and she'd been forced to go much
more slowly than she'd intended.

As he set the familiar Metropolis Coffee cup in front of her,
she finished refastening the rubber bands around a stack and
pushed it aside. He sat down beside her and picked up a stack of
notes.

"Do you remember that list of subcontractors for the space
station?" she asked him. "He listed every company that had
provided components for the shuttles, as well. I thought it was
at the end of his notes, but I can't find it. I'm working
backward from the last few stacks. The problem is, neither one of
us read every single… page… of his notes. But I *know* I saw a
list -"

"He listed them more than once, I think." Clark replied. "Let's
keep working backward -- eventually we'll come across it."

Thirty minutes -- and all of her coffee -- later, Clark found what
they were looking for.

"Here, Lois -" He smoothed the list -- written on a torn and
crumpled piece of a brown paper bag -- out on the table between
them. As he held it flat, Lois leaned nearer and read it aloud.

"INX Global. Agilius Systems. Cohe Incorporated. Acor PLC… NAL.
AdentED… Searec Technologies… Symacker USA… Here! NovaCo!" She
turned her head, smiling triumphantly, forgetting how close she
and Clark were as they both leaned over the list.

And promptly forgot all about the list. He was so close. Close
enough to… If she just leaned forward a little… She could feel
her heart start to pound as she stared at him. She felt… as if
the air was too thick to breathe. Was this what it was like to be
short of breath? His gaze dropped to her lips, and as she
suddenly found herself moistening them, his eyes darkened behind
his glasses.

"Lois," he began softly, moving even closer. She held her
breath, and unconsciously reached for something -- anything -- to
hold onto. As her hand brushed over his, he turned it palm up,
and she found herself gripping it tightly. Sensation shot through
her, and she gasped.

His other hand came up and cupped her cheek -- and there was a
quick rap on the conference room door as Jimmy came in, his
attention focused on the document he held. Lois and Clark sprang
apart.

"Hey, guys! I went ahead and found you everything I could on
NovaCo…" Jimmy looked up. "Uh -- what's up? Guys?"

"Nothing." Lois said shortly. She jumped up, peripherally aware
that Clark was also getting to his feet. That had been… She
wasn't going to think about it right now. "What've you got,
Jimmy?"

He looked back and forth between them dubiously, but at her
impatient, "Jimmy!" he handed her another computer printout.

"Well, uh… Like I said, I went and dug up what I could on this
NovaCo -- I figured that'd be what you wanted next, you know?

As Lois focused on the printout, trying to ignore how… *aware*
of her partner she was, Clark asked, "Was this already one of
Luthor's companies?"

Lois found her voice. Time to scrape up some Mad Dog Lane. "Yes
-- Jimmy, how deep does this go? And which came first, the
contract or the purchase?"

"Huh?"
 
"Did NovaCo get the contract with EPRAD after Luthor acquired
it, or was it already contracted?" Clark elaborated.

"Yes -" Lois grabbed the first printout and tapped one of the
lines of linked company names for emphasis. "Like the chicken and
the egg, Jimmy. Which came first? Did NovaCo get a contract with
EPRAD first? And then got acquired by Lex Luthor, who concealed
his ownership by hiding it inside a shell corporation called
Vize, who does business as Indetics? Who in turn does business as
Dynaron? Which is doing business as -"

"Whoa -- I got it, Lois." Jimmy held both hands up in a stopping
gesture. "I don't know which came first, but I'll go find out."
He left the conference room almost at a jog.

Without looking at Clark, Lois flipped through the information
Jimmy had gathered on NovaCo.

"Lois?" Clark asked softly, but she interrupted him quickly.

"Well, that was enterprising of Jimmy, wasn't it?" She sat down
again, still talking, and waved the printout in the direction of
his chair, hoping he'd sit, too. "We're one step closer to
solving this. And if he can find out whether NovaCo got the
contract before, or *after* Luthor Industries acquired it, we may
be able to link Lex Luthor with the sabotage. Now, let's see…" 

Her enhanced hearing picked up a small sigh as her partner sat
down, but he didn't say anything. Just in case, though, she
rushed on. "…We should probably also have Jimmy look at the rest
of the names -- you know, of the subcontractors -- on Dr. Platt's
list. But anyway, let's see what he comes up with before we get
excited, huh? In the meantime -- while we're waiting for whatever
he can find…" She was glancing rapidly over the document as she
spoke, and now tapped a list of names midway down the page.
Without pausing for breath, she charged on. "Oh! Hey, look what
he's found so far -- here's a whole list of names. What do you
think -- NovaCo's board of directors, maybe? Or their scientists?
Or… maybe their board of directors is all scientists? We've got
to…" She actually ran out of breath.

Clark shifted in his chair, and she tensed slightly as he leaned
in closer to read the section she'd indicated. "I think they're
probably just scientists -- most of them are Ph.D.'s." He spoke
mildly, and she relaxed. Good. He wasn't going to mention what
had happened -- what had *almost* happened -- earlier. That was
good. She wasn't going to dwell on it either -

"Lois, look!" 

Clark's voice, so close by, startled her. She'd gotten
distracted. Well, this *was* tiring work, though. Anyway, while
she'd been thinking of… something else, he'd continued to read
the document she still held, and now he was leaning closer,
indicating one of the names on the list. Her eyes catalogued the
contrast of his crisp white shirt cuff against his dark suit coat
sleeve, the silver watchband on his lightly tanned wrist, those
elegant fingers. He wasn't an excessively hairy man -- that was
another appealing thing about him… She forced her eyes from his
hand to where he was pointing.

"Lois, this name -- Antoinette Baines. Her name's in Dr. Platt's
notes, too. Here, I remember roughly where I saw it…" He
half-stood, bracing one hand on the table, and began looking
among the stacks of Dr. Platt's notes that were still in the
box.

It should be easier to concentrate now that he wasn't sitting so
close to her. Except that… She watched him for a moment. His suit
jacket pulled taut across his shoulders as he leaned forward. Her
eyes followed the line of his back, down to where… 

Good heavens, she was… *ogling* the man. Not that it wasn't a…
pleasant sight, but… She could feel her heart pounding.

She forced herself to look away from him; forced her eyes back
to the list that had prompted him to stand up in the first place.
What had they been talking about? Oh, yes -- "Do you think
there's an association there?" 

He was thumbing through the corners of one of the stacks. How he
could read much of anything that way, she didn't know. Although
really, some of Dr. Platt's notes were memorable simply because
of what they were written on -- and so the content tended to stick
in one's mind. Maybe the name had been written on one of the more
unusual… media.

"It would be awfully coincidental if it's not…" he said
absently. Then, "Ah! Here we go." He unfastened the stack and
removed the page he'd been seeking, tucked one of the bright
orange three-by-five index cards they used as markers into its
place in the stack, and refastened the bundle. Despite herself,
Lois was impressed at the speed with which he'd found what he'd
been seeking.

"Huh. How lucky is that?" she asked, leaning forward to look as
he laid the page in question on the table. It was actually very
easy to read for a change. Dr. Platt had written, in blue crayon
on the inside of a torn piece of a Pop Tart box, 'A. Baines,'
followed by an exclamation point and a question mark. And under
that he'd written 'Lisp' and underlined it twice.

"I'll go find Jimmy. We need to find out more about Dr. Baines
as fast as possible," Clark said, rising to his feet.

"And I'll work my way through the stuff on NovaCo." She forced
herself not to watch as he left the room.

---

An hour later they were sitting at the table again, as Jimmy
laid out the latest information he'd found. 

"Well, it was easy to find out a lot of the stuff on this Dr.
Baines," he said. "It's pretty impressive. She's young -- and
attractive," he added, indicating a glossy photo attached to the
short bio he'd printed. "She's in charge of the actual
implementation of the shuttle flights. A… supervisor, I guess
you'd say. She was an assistant -- then after Dr. Platt was fired,
she was promoted."

"Kinda… suspicious…" Lois commented. The photo showed a young,
blue-eyed blond woman. Her eyes looked kind of shifty. And she
probably dyed her hair that color; it couldn't be natural. Did…
Clark think this woman was attractive? Lois glanced at him, but
he wasn't looking at the photo.

"Well, you know, she was actually a logical choice, according to
this." He indicated one of the printouts. "She's the youngest
scientist ever to receive the Geminox Award. She worked for EPRAD
itself for… let's see… five years, and only took a job in the
private sector a year ago."

"Yeah, and all that was really pretty easy to find," Jimmy told
them. "I also found you some trivia, but I really had to dig
around for that."

"Trivia?" Lois and Clark spoke together.

"Yep. I hacked into her alma mater's computer files, and then
into EPRAD's personnel files -" He stopped abruptly, glancing
nervously around the room. "Uh… How often do you think Perry has
the place swept for bugs, do you think?"

"Jimmy, it's just us," Lois said impatiently. "The room isn't
bugged. You're not being recorded. You're safe." She grinned
mischievously at him and added, "We already know you find us most
of our information by hacking into various… secure and
impenetrable systems. We won't reveal our sources." She glanced
at Clark, and then added, "…At least, not until the December
issue of 'All Our Sources' comes out." She sat back and smiled
Perry's deceptively benign smile at Jimmy. 

Jimmy looked even more alarmed and began to rise to his feet.
Then as Clark began laughing helplessly, he sat back down with a
thump.

"You're joking, aren't you?" he began, and then as Lois also
started laughing, he finally relaxed fully and chuckled along
with them. "Okay, okay -- so maybe I'm just a little bit
paranoid…"

They laughed harder.

"Okay, a lot paranoid." He shook his head, and muttered, "Lois
'Mad Dog' Lane is actually *teasing* me. Of course I'm not gonna
get that right away."

Clark laughed again as Lois mock-glared at the young man. "I
heard that."

He turned red and squirmed for a moment, smiling sheepishly.
"Uh. Yeah… So, didja want to know this trivia I found?"

"Okay, yes. Time to get back to the serious stuff," Lois said,
once again all business. "Whatcha got?"

"Well, guess what? She's been married -- although there isn't an
easily-retrievable record of that."
 
"To Luthor?!" Again, Lois and Clark spoke together.
 
"No, no -- gosh, wouldn't that be weird? If all this time the
richest guy in the country was secretly married? Nope, dude's
single, as far as I can tell -- and that's pretty far," Jimmy
added. "No, she's a widow. She got married real young -- like,
just out of high school. To some rich old guy who died when she
was in college, I guess. But get this -- guess what her *maiden*
name is?"
 
"Don't tell us it's -" Lois began incredulously, as Clark asked,
"You're kidding; it's -?"

"Yep. Luthor." Jimmy beamed at them.

One of the reasons Lois used Jimmy exclusively for her research
needs was that the kid was *good*. He got her what she wanted,
and then some. He knew valuable information when he saw it, and
he also knew how to keep his mouth shut.

She and Clark looked at each other. "She's too old to be his
daughter… His sister, maybe?" Lois mused. "Or a cousin?"

Clark shrugged. "I have no idea. I honestly wasn't expecting
that at all."

"I'll try and find out the exact relationship," Jimmy
interjected.

"…And NovaCo?" she asked him, suspecting she already knew the
answer.

"…Got the contract. First. And then got acquired, barely eight
months later," Jimmy said with a grin. "By a company called Vize,
who does business as Indetics. Which is a shell corporation for a
company called Dynaron. Which turns out to be another shell
corporation -- for a company called ING Investments. Which is yet
*another* shell corporation, for a company called Invicro. Who is
doing business as IntEDD. Which led me to a company called T-Cor.
Which in turn led to an outfit called BRC, which led to Upco -
which is owned by Luthor Industries." He stopped to draw a
breath.

Lois looked at Clark. "Bingo."

He nodded. "You think it's him?"

"Yes." She was sure of it.

"There he is, Lois -- your dragon." He spoke softly. "Now let's
get him."

"If he's behind it…" Lois said equally softly, "I think… he may
stop at nothing to prevent that station from going forward."

Clark nodded. "Or almost nothing. Thanks, Jim." 

Lois smiled at the young man, a genuine non-Mad Dog smile.
"Thank you, Jimmy."

He blushed bright red and muttered a quick "You're welcome."
Rising, he gestured vaguely at the newsroom. "I'll… If you need
anything, you know…" He left the room.

Clark chuckled.

Lois ignored it. Time to get busy again. "Okay," she said
briskly. "Let's see what we can put together. We need to find out
if NovaCo was in trouble and headed for a takeover…"

"…*Before* they got that contract," Clark finished.

They divvied up the information on NovaCo and began to read.

---

"I've got to get onto that shuttle." 

"Mmmmm. I don't think that'll happen, though." Clark, still
reading through the rest of Jimmy's information, spoke absently.

"Well, probably not *officially*, anyway," she conceded. "But
that won't stop me, you know. I'll stow away if I have to."

That earned her his full attention. "Lois, you *can't*!"

"Sure I can," she said confidently. "One of us needs to check
out that flight."

"Lois, it's likely to be heavily guarded. You're not going to be
able to even get close to the thing, much less get on board it!"

"Clark, I'll find a way." She couldn't tell him, of course, but
with her abilities, it would probably be pretty easy to get onto
that shuttle.

"And anyway," he continued, "what could you possibly hope to
find? You don't know enough about it -- about how the shuttle
works, or what's normal and what's not… How would you know what
to look for?"

"Clark, it won't be subtle!" she argued. "Not only is this guy
out of time, but he's obviously gotten so arrogant that he's
just… just bulldozing his way to what he wants! You saw that with
some of those companies!"

"Lois, it won't be as obvious as a… a panel out of place, or an
obvious cut line, or something!" Both of them were on their feet
- Clark apparently felt the need to pace, and Lois didn't like
the height advantage he had if she stayed seated. She ignored the
fact that she only came to his shoulder when they were both
standing.

For the first time in her life, she found herself *wanting* to
tell someone -- Clark -- what she could do. She wanted to explain
it to him -- that she was pretty sure she *could* see something
out of place -- if she looked carefully enough with her enhanced
vision. 

"Lois, the best thing for us to do is just stay off that flight
and figure out what he's up to from this side of things," Clark
added, apparently thinking he was making headway with her.

He hadn't learned yet how stubborn she could be. "*You* stay and
figure out things from this side," she snapped. "And *I'll* go
and observe things from the shuttle side."

"Lois -" 

She kept talking. "Besides, I don't think he *will* sabotage the
shuttle flight, Clark. We found the code problems and EPRAD has
fixed them… Don't you think it would be just a little bit *too*
coincidental if there was another problem with the shuttle? I
think that flight will make it to the station this time -- and
there'll be some sort of malfunction there… What'd Jimmy call it?
Essential systems issues of some kind that require the whole
program to be aborted."

"Lois, we can have Jimmy start looking at the space station's
programs, just the way we did with the shuttle's. He can start
with those 'essential systems' and -"

"Yeah, fine -- you have him do that. And I'll keep in touch with
both of you by cell phone,' she said.

"Lois! Look, do you really think Perry would okay your going on
that flight?" Clark demanded.

She could see this argument going on and on and on. Normally,
she'd just keep arguing until she won, which was usually pretty
quickly. Very few people argued with Mad Dog Lane. For long,
anyway. But this was Clark, and he just didn't seem affected much
by Mad Dog.

Besides, she didn't really feel like arguing with him.

He was… he'd somehow gotten around her defenses enough to become
a friend, and if she was honest, she kind of… liked it, having a
friend. What if… what if he finally got fed up with her? She was
getting used to having him around.

She sighed and sat back down at the table. What was happening to
her? Mad Dog Lane didn't just… just wimp out. But still…

"Lois?" She glanced up to see that he'd sat down next to her
again. Well, there was nothing wrong in allowing him to think
he'd convinced her. She wasn't really backing down. She was
simply… preserving the peace.

"Fine, Clark. We'll do it your way," she said flatly. She
*would* do it his way -- for a little while, anyway. She'd work
with him on this just as they had been doing, but on launch day,
she would simply do what she had intended to do all along.

-----

Accordingly, Lois didn't go in to the newsroom the next morning.
Instead, she went to EPRAD, to the shuttle launch site. With a
little judicious use of her special vision and hearing to avoid
the guards, and a… teensy little bit of -- completely justifiable
- breaking and entering, she located the shuttle's small galley,
which she knew wouldn't be in use until the shuttle was well on
its way. It would make a good hiding place -- she could avoid
detection there, at least until after lift-off.

While the shuttle was still empty of passengers, she decided to
seize the opportunity to explore. Watching -- and listening -
carefully for crewmembers, she scanned through the walls into the
interior spaces, where the various electronic, hydraulic, and
electrical systems were housed. The scanning made her a bit
uncomfortable, since it reminded her of a few long-ago incidents
where she'd seen much more than she'd wanted -- or intended -- to
see. This search was necessary -- but she hoped she wouldn't
stumble visually across an unexpected restroom or something like
that.

Everything looked normal. As far as she could tell, that was;
there weren't any obvious cut lines or panels out of place. Just
as Clark had said. He didn't need to know that, of course.

A rumble beneath her feet and a swell of noise alerted her to
the fact that the settlers were beginning to board, and that the
auxiliary power units were being started. Quickly, she retreated
to the galley, where she was able to watch the crew as they began
their preflight preparations. There was no suspicious activity,
as far as she could tell. Everything looked normal; everyone
seemed to be acting normal. It looked like she'd been right. Any
sabotage would likely be on the space station instead.

"See, Clark?" she murmured as she moved to the jump seat against
the wall of the small galley and sat down. Watching through the
outer wall, she noted that the last of the settlers had boarded,
and the launch crew was closing the shuttle's main doors. The
rumble around her increased; she could feel the power as the main
engines geared up. This was it! This was history in the making,
and Lois Lane was a part of it -
 
A small, sharp click caught her attention. It wasn't repeated,
but after a short pause she heard a steady… ticking, like a
clock. Wow, she could even hear the countdown clock! No, wait -
wasn't the countdown done digitally for accuracy? And this was a
lot closer to her than mission command; it sounded like it was…
in the same room? She quickly scanned the small area, and
pinpointed the source of the noise almost immediately. High on
the wall, tucked up against a bulkhead, was… not a clock. 

Not a clock at all. It was… Oh god, it was a bomb. It had to be.
So tiny… But -- the small box, the tangle of wires, the little
dial like a timer, clicking down toward zero… 

A bomb! It wouldn't hurt her -- probably. She'd never actually
tested that out. Did 'invulnerable' really include things like
bombs? She'd been in some… mildly dangerous situations during her
time with the Planet, but she'd never encountered a bomb before.
How did she stop it? 

Could she… crush it? Right there on the wall? Or remove it and
throw it… where? The shuttle's windows didn't open, did they?
There were no windows in here, anyway. She doubted she could pull
it off the wall and make it to a window before the thing
detonated. Even assuming the windows on a shuttle actually
opened. 

Why hadn't she studied bombs? Well, it was too late to worry
about that now. How much time did she -- they -- have? Enough time
to call the police? Or would that take too long? Somehow, she had
to raise the alarm…

The alarm… The fire alarm! A fire alarm was universal -- and a
fire alarm would evacuate everyone, no questions asked. Now,
where would one be located? There had to be one in a galley,
right? After all, a galley was a kitchen, with a stove and stuff…


Yes, there! She pulled the lever.

A claxon wail sounded immediately, followed by a voice alert
over the speakers: *Fire alert, please evacuate all personnel…
Fire alert, please evacuate all personnel… Fire alert, please
evacuate all personnel...* The siren sounded again, then the
voice alert again, then the siren… 

Extending her hearing past the alarm was difficult; it was hard
to selectively tune out something so loud and so close. But she
could make out the subdued roar of hundreds of voices raised in
confusion, in panic. People must be trying to exit. She
concentrated, trying to hear whether they were evacuating
successfully. Over all of it, in the distance, she could hear
more sirens as emergency personnel responded to the alarm. Well,
that was good, but staring back at the bomb timer, she figured it
would be too late. She'd have to get out herself, but was
everyone else out yet? 

Suddenly, the emergency door to her right was wrenched open with
enough force to almost tear it from its hinges. In the opening
was possibly the most incredible sight she'd ever seen -- a man,
*hovering*, apparently unsupported, outside the craft. A man…
dressed in a brilliant blue, form-fitting suit that faithfully
showed every facet of his superb physique. He also wore a red
cape. And red boots. And red… Her eyes flashed back up to his
face. His arms were crossed almost regally across his chest. Her
gaze lingered there before traveling then back to his… attire.

She noted in a detached way that he was devastatingly
good-looking -- that made two gorgeous men within the last month
-- but what absolutely flabbergasted her was the fact that he
even existed. He was… The costume he was wearing -- it had to be a
costume, right? It was certainly distracting, but… He could… He
was hovering in midair, and he'd practically torn the emergency
door off its hinges. But how could there be someone *else* who
could do the things she could do?

And the colors he wore -- they were brilliant, vibrant hues, yes,
but… they were *her* colors… She backed away from him as he
stepped into the ship and moved toward her. And… without his arms
across his chest, she could see that he was… He was wearing the
'S'… *Her* 'S.' The 'S' Mama had saved with the things from her
ship.
 
Was this some kind of… elaborate hoax? Oh, God -- had someone
found out about her? Was her secret exposed?

Only seconds had passed since the door had been wrenched open,
but it seemed like time had come to a complete halt as she stared
at the man who was even now nodding rather formally and
murmuring, "Excuse me, please."

His voice stirred something in her. He seemed… somehow familiar.
But how…? Why? Because he could do the same things she could do?
Who was he?
 
While she'd been standing there staring, he'd stepped into the
shuttle -- from thin air -- and now strode confidently right past
her to the bomb. And pulled it off the wall!

She found her voice. However fantastic -- unbelievable -- this
whole situation had become, he was still messing with a *bomb*.
"Watch it! I don't know how to disarm it -- if you joggle it, it
might go off -"

She watched in amazement as he glanced around, then… *swallowed*
it. As she stood there gaping, once again rendered absolutely
speechless, there was a muffled explosion.

And then he burped.

"Excuse me," he said softly.

He.

Had.

*Swallowed* the bomb.
 
It would never… *had* never… *ever* occurred to her that she
could… stomach a bomb.

Of course, she'd never been faced with this sort of urgency. It
was her first experience with a bomb. She had not been quite sure
what to do…

The man in red and yellow and blue did, though. Did he…
regularly swallow bombs? As a kind of extra-hearty breakfast?

She forced down the rising hysteria. Maybe she was dreaming? He
looked real… But… She'd never, ever imagined -- never even dared
*dream* that there could be another one like her…

Was this some new ability -- to imagine things so vividly that
they seemed real?

She tentatively reached out and touched his arm. And felt the
familiar electric sensation.

And the pieces fell into place.

Still, she couldn't stop staring at him -- he looked so…
*different*. Her voice was a mere whisper. "Clark?"

The formal demeanor faltered, and he stared at her the way she
imagined a deer in headlights probably looked. Then swiftly, he
turned -- and she knew, just *knew* that he was going to run -- fly
-- *leave*. 

"Clark, wait!" she said it urgently but still softly.

"Lois, please -" he began pleadingly.

"I won't give you away -- I promise. Clark, I *promise* I won't!
But I *must* talk to you."

With a tilt of his head, he gestured to the ship in general.
"Lois, I have to go… if you recognized me…"

"No! You won't be," she said quickly. She, too, could hear
people -- probably firemen -- beginning to enter the shuttle. "I
*didn't* recognize you, Clark! I swear -- not until I… touched
you, and…" She faltered.

There were men in the hallway outside the galley. < Mad Dog, I
need you now. > "Trust me, Clark -- no one will be looking at your
face!"

"Lois!" Interesting. This super man could blush.

The door handle began to turn. This was it, then -- show time.
She squared her shoulders and hissed, "Follow my lead!"

A swarm of law enforcement officials, firemen, and shuttle
personnel surged into the small galley, crowding into the already
small space.

Time to seize the moment. She said quickly, "This is…" Her eyes
fell on the 'S' on his suit. "S…" < C'mon, Lois, *think*! >
"…Superman!" she blurted.
 
'Superman' raised an eyebrow, but once again crossed his arms
across his chest, looking impassively back at the gaping men.

"Superman has saved the lives of over one hundred people by
disarming a bomb…" she continued.

"Is this some kind of publicity stunt?" demanded a
skeptical-looking official.

"There was a bomb! I found it when I was…" Perhaps it was better
not to explain *why* she was there, and just focus on the end
results. "I found it and pulled the fire alarm."

"What bomb? I don't see a bomb," said one of the men.

"Who are you?" barked another, looking back and forth between
Lois and Superman.

"He… he swallowed the bomb," she began, realizing how
unbelievable it sounded. She hadn't thought of that -- but he'd
also swallowed the evidence. She glanced helplessly at him.

Superman rose about a foot off the floor and moved past her,
back to the emergency exit. He moved through it, once again
hovering in midair in the doorway. Inclining his head at the
silenced, gaping men, he said authoritatively, "This young woman
is correct. Upon entering this compartment, I saw an explosive
device fastened to that wall." The gaping stares traveled to the
wall he was indicating, then back to him as he continued. "You
can still see the wires and fastenings. In the interests of
preventing what was an imminent explosion, I did, indeed, ingest
the device. As I am invulnerable to all weapons, it did not harm
me." 

Lois was gaping as well. Even though she *knew* this was her
partner, Clark, he was so… different. Not just in the way he was
dressed, or in his abilities, but in his manner. In the way he
carried himself, and in the way he spoke. There was no sign of
the gentle, soft-voiced, laid-back reporter. 

Reporter! Recovering quickly, she played the reporter to the
hilt. "Lois Lane, Daily Planet. Would you consent to an
interview, …Superman?" 

He inclined his head formally. "Certainly. First, however, may I
offer a lift to the settlers?"

One of the officials cleared his throat. "Uh… Superman. I… I
understand they lost their launch window…?

"That isn't a problem," he replied in his deep voice.

A babble of voices arose. In it, she heard several questions
raised. How could he offer them a lift? The engines had been
fired and then shut down; how could he fire them up again without
refueling?

She was Lois Lane. She didn't wonder, she asked. "How?" 

The hubbub died as he smiled and replied, "I'll give them a
boost."

It was obvious that no one had any idea how he was going to do
that, and equally obvious that no one was going to challenge him
further about it.

"Ms… Lane?" The same official turned to her. "You'll have to
disembark. Only the settlers and flight crew will be on this
flight. We'll also need a detailed statement from you; you said
you are the one who found this bomb?"

She glanced at Cl- Superman, and then nodded. She should
probably wait for him here, instead of going back to the
newsroom. It would be easier to coordinate their stories before
they returned to the Planet. Besides, he was bound to return to
EPRAD before he returned to the newsroom -- the EPRAD people
would expect him to confirm the delivery of the settlers to the
space station. It shouldn't be too hard to stay attached to the
group of officials, even if they banned the rest of the press.
All she'd have to do was claim Superman expected her to be there.
And in just a moment, he would.

Turning to follow the others, who were slowly leaving the
galley, she murmured too softly for anyone but him to hear, "Go.
I'll play reporter here; when you're done, meet me… on the…" She
glanced around. "Meet me on the roof of the main building here -
where the observation deck is." Glancing back as she stepped
through the doorway into the shuttle's main passageway, she saw
him nod slightly.

So she stood with the police and the space program bigwigs on
the observation deck, and watched. Watched as Superman fitted the
emergency door back into place and welded it closed with… heat
vision. Watched in amazement as he proceeded to lift the shuttle
into the sky -- and kept going.

Could… *she* do that? She knew she was strong -- very, very
strong. But she'd never tested her limits beyond the weights her
uncle's gym had offered. There was the boulder at the park that
day, of course… And every now and then, undercover of the night,
she would lift a pickup truck, or a dumpster -- just to see if
she *could*. So… Why not a shuttle, then?

But… how did he *know*? 

She sat down on the edge of the low wall surrounding the
stairway entrance to the observation deck. The various officials
milled around, alternately exclaiming over the events of the past
several hours, and looking up into the sky. She ignored them.

Maybe he was actually stronger than her. It was possible. After
all, what about the classic physical differences in strength
between men and women? And there might be some things she was
better at than him. Or… were there no differences at all in their
abilities?

Of course, there were certain things -- such as sight or hearing
- that weren't gender linked. That would mean he could… see like
her. Hear like her…

His voice echoed in her mind. < Lois, I covered that fire this
morning. > 

How had he been there to cover that fire? Had he heard the
sirens? Gone, like her, to see if he could help?

< There was nothing *anyone* could have done to help. > Not even
her -- or him.

< Sometimes you just… can't. You can't protect everyone, no
matter who you are. > Even if you were extra strong and fast and
could hear and see better than anyone else.

< What you *can* do is not let their deaths be in vain. > Was
that why he was an investigative reporter? For the times he
couldn't help someone? To right wrongs he couldn't fix by sheer
strength or speed?

Her partner -- Clark -- was the same as her.

She felt a lightness she normally only got from flying. At last,
she could let herself… She could admit to herself how…
*attracted* to him she was. 

If he was the same… he obviously understood the need for
secrecy. If he was the same… she wouldn't have to worry about
whether or not she could actually… have a relationship with him.
A… *real* relationship… 

She deliberately pushed those thoughts out of her head. First,
she and her partner had a pretty huge story to write.

Then she had an interview with Superman. And she needed to tell
him her own big little secret.

---

She looked up as the noise level on the observation deck
swelled, and saw that Clark -- Superman -- had returned. He was
surrounded -- but at a respectable distance -- almost immediately
by the various officials still present.

She glanced at her watch. Still plenty of time to get back to
the Planet and write up the events of this amazing morning. She'd
placed a quick call to Perry shortly after she'd disembarked from
the shuttle, knowing he'd be watching LNN's coverage and tearing
his hair out. She'd assured him she had inside information on
both the latest attempt at sabotage and on the incredible
appearance of Superman. Perry had told her he was holding the
entire front page for her. She'd ended the call as he'd rambled
on about special editions and second print runs.

She'd given the EPRAD officials -- and law enforcement -- her
statement, openly stating that Superman could corroborate her
story. Mad Dog Lane to the teeth, she'd boldly asserted that he
expected her to be waiting on the observation deck when he
returned, as they'd arranged an interview. No one had argued with
her; when the members of the press had been dismissed, she'd been
allowed to stay.

Apparently finished debriefing the various officials, the caped
figure approached to stand in front of her. He nodded a reserved
greeting as she stood up, brushing her hands nervously down her
skirt, conscious of the stares of the remaining officials.

"Shall we do that interview now, Ms. Lane?" he asked in the same
deep, measured tones he'd used earlier. A small smile broke the
sternness of his expression as he added politely, "May I offer
you a lift to the Daily Planet?"

Flustered, she replied, "Uh, sure… I mean… Thank you, yes,
Superman." Was he serious? How would he… He would have to carry
her, wouldn't he?

He confirmed her thought. "I'll need to carry you, Ms. Lane.
Please don't worry -- I won't drop you. I have transported people
like this before."

He had? Who? How on earth had he maintained his secret, if he
went around carrying people from place to place?

His voice interrupted her thoughts. "Ms. Lane? I'm going to pick
you up, okay? If you would place your arm around my shoulders?"

She allowed him to gather her into his arms, and sensation shot
through her. Reflexively, she tightened her grip on him, and he
glanced at her reassuringly as he straightened up.

"Ready?" he asked, and was rising into the air even as she
nodded. The buildings below them dropped away quickly.

He didn't say anything as they flew toward the Daily Planet
building. She didn't know what to say, either. This man in the
blue and red outfit who was flying her back to the newsroom was
her *partner*. She looked down at the city. *Her* partner.
Somehow, the one man she'd ever allowed to get close had turned
out to be… What were the odds that they would have found each
other?

Within a few minutes, Superman landed on the Planet's roof, and
carefully set her down.

"Uh, shall we do that interview now?" he asked, and she heard
Clark in his voice as he dropped the formal manner.

"Oh. Um, no." Her voice sounded a little husky, and she cleared
her throat before repeating it. "No, Clark. Not right now;
Perry's probably having a cow. We'll do it a little later, okay?
Maybe tonight…?" 

He smiled tentatively at her, and it was strange seeing Clark's
special smile coming from the costume-clad superhero. "Okay,
partner," he said softly, then stepped back and began to spin in
place. When he came to a stop, he was dressed as Clark.

"Wow!" was all she could say.

He smiled briefly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. Worried,
she began, "Clark?"

He sighed and looked seriously at her. "Lois, are you… okay with
this? Are you mad at me for… not telling you about all this?

She blinked. Mad? Pretty much the opposite, actually. Over the
moon that this special man was just like her. "No, I'm not mad,"
she managed to say.

"Are we still okay, then?" he persisted. "Are you… You aren't
scared of me or anything, are you? I would never hurt you -"

She interrupted him hastily, putting a hand on his arm in her
desire to convince him. "No! Clark, it's okay -- we're fine. I'm
not -- I don't think I could ever be afraid of you. I…" She drew a
deep breath and looked him in the eye. "I think… I think we're
friends, aren't we, Clark?" she asked softly, deliberately using
his words.

His eyes darkened behind the glasses, and she felt him relax. He
covered her hand with his own. "Yes. Yes, we are." He said it
like a vow.

She wanted to… She didn't know what she wanted to do. She had no
experience with this sort of thing -- this… charged emotion they
were both generating. "So… Um…" She gently tugged her hand out
from under his, letting go of his arm. "I guess we should…" She
gestured toward the stairwell.

He cleared his throat and nodded, following her lead. "Yeah.
Let's get in there before Perry has that cow."

She laughed, and he laughed, and then things were back to
normal.

As they approached the roof door, she said, "That was a pretty
cool trick, there, by the way. You know, that spinny thing?" She
twirled a down-pointed finger around in imitation of his earlier
spin change.

"I had to practice that a few times," he said with a grin, but
then stopped at the door and looked at her soberly. "Lois, there
are a lot of things I just… can't tell you about Superman. I just
don't know a lot about my origins."

He didn't? So he didn't know anything more than she did about
their respective… what had he said, origins? She'd have to find
out what he *did* know -- compare notes, in a way. "Okay, well…
we'll have to be careful what we say in the interview, then -
we'll have to keep it kind of vague. And we need to decide what
spin to put on your 'arrival.' But in the meantime, we have
another story to write. Oh -" She snapped her fingers. "And has
Clark been at EPRAD with me for this story?"

"Perry knew I was headed over there -- once you didn't show up
this morning, I knew where you'd gone. And don't think we aren't
going to talk about that little stunt, Ms. Lane," he added in a
very Superman-like voice. When she laughed, he shook his head at
her. "So, yes, I think Clark was with you, at least at the end."

He sobered, and his hands came up to gently cup her upper arms,
and once again, she felt his touch to her toes. "Lois -- when I
saw you in the same room as that bomb, I… I don't think I've
*ever* moved that fast -- and I can move pretty darn fast."

"I… I was scared, Clark," she admitted softly, her own hands
coming up to rest on his chest. "I didn't know how to disarm it,
and I couldn't think of anything else to do except sound the
alarm. And I knew there wasn't enough time for everyone to get
out. I… " Her hands fisted in his shirt. "We have to stop him,
Clark! He's getting bolder and bolder!"

He drew her gently into his arms in a loose hug, and she went
willingly, tentatively slipping her arms around his waist. "We
*are* going to get him, Lois." His breath ruffled her hair. "We
will find a way to stop this dragon."

She rested her head against his chest for a moment, listening to
his steady heartbeat, and then sighed and stepped back. He let
her go immediately, and at once she felt the loss and wanted to
be back in his arms.

But they had work to do. He was already holding the stairway
door open for her. As she passed through it, he asked, "By the
way, how'd you come up with 'Superman'?"

She laughed. "I was on the spot, okay? I looked at you and just
drew a blank -- and then the 'S' caught my eye and the name just
popped into my mind." 

He laughed, too, and they went down the stairs together. On the
landing outside the newsroom, she paused and looked up at him.
"Are you ready to face the mania in the newsroom?"

"As I'll ever be," he told her wryly, reaching out to open the
door.

---

As they descended the ramp, he glanced at her. "And don't think
you'll get away with fooling me again. That's the last time I
believe you when you meekly give in during an argument." 

She gave him her best innocent look. "Why, Clark, I don't know
what you mean."

He laughed. "*You* are high maintenance, Lois."

She shot a cheeky grin at him. "But I'm worth it."

Both of them were laughing when they reached the bottom of the
ramp, where Perry pounced on them. The editor was so excited that
he was practically floating himself.

They were the objects of most of the newsroom staff's interest,
in fact. Within minutes they were practically surrounded, and
questions were thick in the air.

"It's all a publicity stunt -- it *has* to be, right?" 
"Did this guy *really* fly?" 
"Did you see him? Talk to him?" 
"Who is this guy? Where's he from?" 
"I saw LNN's coverage of the launch -- it's a hoax, right? It has
to be!" 
"Jase Jenner got photos of the guy -- it sure looked real, didn't
it?"
"Lois, were you really inside the shuttle? Did you talk to him?"

"What *really* happened, you guys?" 
"LNN said there was a bomb. Did this guy really disarm it?" 
"What's his name?" 
"Is he single?"

That last question came from Cat Grant. Lois glared at her as
Perry held up his hand.

"People! This isn't a circus sideshow! I know we all want to
know exactly who this fellow is, and what he's doing here, and
how he can do all those amazing things we saw on LNN. Lois,
Clark, what've you got?"

"We have the exclusive of the century for you," Lois said
briskly. "Not only do I have the inside story -- literally -- on
the events at EPRAD this morning, but Superman has guaranteed me
- us -- an exclusive interview in a day or two."

The clamor arose again, and Perry shouted for silence. "I sent
Edmunds and Jenner over there as soon as we heard what was going
on, and Peters was already there, covering the launch for the
City Desk. Jenner got a couple photos with a small camera he
carries, although they're all distance shots, and Peters had
Olsen with him. The kid got several shots of this Superman
lifting the shuttle off the platform, and he managed to get a
close-up of the man when the shuttle passed over where they were
standing. He's in the darkroom right now, enlarging them for me.
Now -- back to work, people! Lois, Clark -- get writing! We've got
a front page to fill! We've got a special edition to get out,
people! Now, hustle!"

Clapping his hands for emphasis, Perry whirled away toward the
City Desk, where Edmunds, Jenner, and Peters sat hunched over
their keyboards, pounding out their stories.

The newsroom staff began dispersing toward their various desks,
although the noise level didn't go down much as they all
continued to discuss the day's amazing events. Lois and Clark
made their way to their desks, and Clark dropped into Lois's
visitor's chair with a sigh.

Running his hand through his hair, he said softly, "Lois, I'm
kind of worried about those photos. What if -"

Also keeping her voice low, she murmured, "Clark, I don't think
you'll have to worry. I think people will be focusing on what y-
…uh, *he* can do, rather than who he is. And the one close-up we
have is apparently taken from the ground as y- *Superman* flew
overhead. His face is going to be in shadow." She smiled
suddenly, remembering what she'd said to him in the shuttle. "And
that outfit -- I don't think anyone's going to spend much time
looking at his face!"

To her amazement, he blushed again, squirming slightly in the
chair. "Lois! I can't believe you said that -" He broke off as
Cat Grant approached them.

"So, Lois," she drawled, leaning against the edge of the desk
closest to Clark. "Are you always the investigative reporter?
Don't tell me even a god in a cape doesn't interest you? Make
sure you find out if he's single, will you? And get me his
telephone number -- if he has one."

Lois rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure, Cat… Now go away. Some of us
have work to do." She glanced at Clark as the woman straightened
with a laugh and walked away.

With a wicked grin, he leaned in close to her and whispered,
"You *are* going to protect Superman from her, aren't you?"

She laughed. "C'mon, partner -- we have a lot of work to do, and
Perry won't be distracted by Edmunds, Jenner, or Peters forever.
She shifted her chair over slightly as he hitched his closer to
the desk, and they began to outline their stories.

---

Lois had never been so glad to see the end of a day. Finally --
*finally*, the last of the day staff had trickled out, and she
and Clark were the only ones left in the newsroom.

Now she looked across at him, watching as he shut down his
computer and began gathering his things. She took a deep breath.
"Clark?"

He looked over at her and smiled, and she felt the familiar tug
of attraction. "I…" She stood up, and he immediately rose to his
own feet. She could feel her heart start to pound. This was
ridiculous! It was just Clark, her partner! Her friend.

But just maybe… Maybe something more?

"Lois? What is it? He was looking at her with warm concern, and
she took courage from his expression.

"Clark, can you… Will you come over to my place tonight? I need
to talk to you."

"About the interview." He spoke softly.

She hadn't been thinking of the Superman interview at all. "Oh,
well… Yes, I guess we need to hash that out too, don't we? But I
also need to… to tell you something -" 

He nodded rather abruptly. "I'll be by in about an hour, okay?"


This time it was she who stood at the bottom of the ramp
watching him go.

-----

She was so nervous by the time he was due to show up that she'd
considered -- twice -- calling him and inventing some sort of
excuse to stop him coming over.

Why had he left the newsroom so abruptly? When she'd mentioned
that she needed to tell him something, his manner had changed.
Was he… regretting their friendship? Maybe he thought she was
going to turn into a… a Superman groupie or something.

He couldn't still believe she might give away his secret, could
he? He'd acted so… normal with her this entire afternoon.

She paced agitatedly into the kitchen. Maybe a… cup of tea would
be relaxing. Or even hot chocolate. Did she have any hot
chocolate? The hot chocolate Clark had brought her that night at
the Planet had been so good -- she had to remember to ask where
he'd bought it. Maybe they could stop wherever it was some
evening and… and get some hot chocolate and just… hang out
together.

What if -- she caught her breath -- what if he didn't *want* to
hang out with someone who had his same abilities? What would she
do if he… pushed her away? She suddenly realized that she'd been
absentmindedly twining the spoon she'd forgotten she was holding
around her fingers, into a sort of free-form spiral.

A knock sounded at her door. Guiltily, she opened the nearest
cupboard door and tossed the spoon inside. She didn't want to
have to explain, until she was absolutely ready < if at all >,
how it had become modern art.

Brushing her hands nervously down her sides as if to smooth the
jeans she wore, she went to the door and opened it.

"Hi," Clark said softly, and she stood aside mutely to allow him
to enter.

Then burst into speech. "Um -- make yourself at home, okay?
There's -- have a seat… Can I get you something to drink? I've got
- let's see… Um, I didn't have time to stop and get anything, so
I can only offer you water, or… I can make coffee. Would you like
coffee? Are you… Are you hungry? Only, I didn't get a chance to
do any shopping, so the cupboards are kind of bare…"

His quietly spoken "Lois." hushed her. She stared up at him as
he moved to stand in front of her. His expression was sober -
almost grim -- and she was suddenly afraid of what he was going to
say.

"You said you needed to talk to me," he began. "I got the
impression that it was something pretty serious."

"Uh… Yeah… But…" she wasn't making much progress here -- and he'd
given her a such nice big opening to jump into.

"Lois, does all this… You know…" He made a sort of flying motion
with his hand; she assumed he meant the whole Superman thing.
"Does it… change anything? Can you still… Are you all right with
this? With me?"

He'd asked her that once already today. "Clark…" she began, and
then stopped. How to say this, to tell him it was so much more
than just all right? Why was it so hard to find the right words?
He was the same as her -- there was no risk. Well, hardly any
risk. She was risking her heart, but she was pretty sure -- hoped
-- that he felt the same way.

So why couldn't she just… *say* it? Tell him both her secrets?
Because there were two of them, after all. There were her special
abilities, and there was… her attraction to Clark.

Only she'd never, ever told anyone before. Not only her secret
-- she'd never entrusted her heart to someone else, and that was
almost scarier than talking about her special abilities.

She could feel her heart pounding.

"Lois, is it that hard?" he asked. There was an undercurrent in
his voice that she couldn't identify. He… couldn't know already,
could he?

"I…"

"Lois." He turned and paced away from her, stopping near the
living room window. Looking out, his back to her, he continued,
"You've been kind of… distracted this afternoon. Kind of… jumpy,
almost…"

He seemed really upset. *Did* he already know? And didn't like
it? She moved toward him. "Clark…"

He turned and looked at her. "And I can hear you -" He tapped
his ear. "You know, your heartbeat. It's been… Well, you seem to
get nervous every time I'm near you. I can hear it now, too. Is
that because… Lois, is this because I'm an… alien? 

An alien?

"What?" Astounded, she stared at him. That had never occurred to
her.

It should have, but it hadn't. "An alien? Like, from outer
space?" She'd been found in a spaceship, for heavens sake -- yet
she'd never considered that there might be an… extraterrestrial
explanation for it. "I honestly never even thought about that,
Clark. How do you know that for sure? Is it because of the
writing -- the letters, or symbols, or whatever they are, on the
spaceship? They're not a foreign language? From somewhere on
earth, I mean? So it wasn't -- we weren't some government
experiment, then? Do you have it? Your spaceship?" 

He stared back at her, bewildered. "What? My ship -- uh, yeah…
Mom and Dad kept it. But… Wait, how do you know about the ship? I
never mentioned it." He frowned. "What's going on, Lois?"

Suddenly, she knew how she could tell him her secret. "It's
okay, Clark -- it's nothing bad. How I know, I mean. I… Well, wait
here a minute, okay?" She hurried into her bedroom and took
Mama's box out of the bedside table drawer. Setting it on the
bed, she opened it and carefully lifted out the pale blue baby
outfit and the blanket.

He'd moved while she'd been out of the room, and was now
standing near the couch. She crossed to where he stood and held
the items out to him. "These are mine, Clark." He took them from
her, clearly not understanding, and glanced down at them before
returning his gaze to her. She touched one of his hands lightly.
"Take a closer look." 

She watched as he carefully unfolded the outfit, and she knew
the instant he spotted the small crest on the collar. He went
still, then looked up at her.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped back slightly and said, "I
know about the spaceship because… my mother found a spaceship,
Clark. Twenty six years ago -- a spaceship with a baby inside." So
saying, she rose gracefully into the air, and tried not to smile
at the stupefied look on his face.

He stared at her for a long, long moment, and it seemed like the
whole world was holding its breath. Then he exhaled, and sat down
abruptly on the edge of her couch. "Oh, boy. This really
complicates things," he muttered, and stared at the floor without
saying anything else. Her heart sank. This wasn't the reaction
she'd expected. After a moment, he looked up at her, and she
slowly drifted down until she was standing on the floor again.

"Clark?" she whispered.

He sighed and ran one hand through his hair. Gesturing to the
empty space beside him, he said almost grimly, "Lois… we really
need to talk."

Oh, God. She'd blown it. Somehow, she'd blown the whole thing.
Maybe… Despite what she'd thought, maybe he just wasn't attracted
to her after all. Heaven knew she wasn't exactly easy to like.
She knew that, had even fostered that in the past by deliberately
keeping her distance from most people. But that was before.

Before Clark. 

"You… don't seem very happy about…" she ventured, sitting down
gingerly about two feet away from him. "I mean, I guess you
aren't… You don't feel the same way… Her throat felt tight and
she swallowed back tears. She was *not* going to cry." 

"Lois…" 

"I mean…" Maybe if she kept talking, she could keep the tears at
bay. "You don't like me -" 

"What!?" He sounded utterly shocked.

"I mean, you like me," she amended hurriedly. "But you don't…
*like* like me. I -"

"Lois -"

"It's okay, Clark." She looked away for a moment, forcing the
tears back again, then continued before he could speak. "I guess
I already knew… I mean… I guess you already have a girlfriend,
right?"

"A girlfriend? Lois," he tried again. "Look, I don't -"

She met his eyes apprehensively. She couldn't bear it if she saw
pity in his gaze. She saw only confusion, and hastened to
explain. "It's okay, Clark, really. I figured out that's where
you go, you know. After you leave... After you left here, those
nights we were working on Dr. Platt's research. And then last
Friday night…"

"Lois, that's not -"

She just had to get this over with. Reassure him and send him on
his way. So she could be alone. "You… obviously had somewhere you
had to be -- you looked at your watch, a-and then left. I didn't
talk to you that whole weekend." Oh God, that sounded like an
accusation. She was getting upset and making things worse. She
tried again. "I mean, there wasn't any reason you had to call me
or anything, of course… You should be able to do what you want on
your weekends off -" 

He stood abruptly, pulling her to her feet with him. Oh, God.
She was driving him away.

"*Lois* -"

"A-and anyway, it's such a relief; just to know..." She looked
at him through a blur of tears. She couldn't -- wouldn't -- cry.
That would make this whole thing even more uncomfortable for him.
"I thought I was the only one like me. Like us. I never had
anyone to talk to about it…" She broke off as he stepped closer
to her, his hands coming up to cup her shoulders. He was so close
that she had to tip her head back to look up at him.

The look in his eyes made her heart start to pound again, slow
and heavy, and she caught her breath and unknowingly held it.
 
"You think I'm not attracted to you?" he growled, his voice low
and incredibly sexy, "Lois, I am *very* attracted to you." Each
word was said with deliberation as he raised his hands to gently
stroke his thumbs across her cheeks, then slid his arms around
her, drawing her so close that she could feel the heat -- and the
electricity -- between them. 

For a long breathless moment they hung there, staring at each
other. Her breath whooshed out in relief as she moved closer to
him, drawn by the look in his eyes. She rested her head against
his chest and clung to him, and his arms tightened around her. "I
don't have a girlfriend." His breath ruffled her hair. "I don't
*want* a girlfriend -- unless she's *you*." He pulled back
slightly and she raised her head to look up at him again. "Lois,
I am so *very*, *very*, attracted to you." His voice was a mere
whisper, his mouth only inches from hers.

Instead of the kiss she expected, however, he rested his
forehead against hers for a moment, then raised his head to look
deeply into her eyes again. For a moment she saw her whole future
in them, but then he sighed and closed his eyes. And stepped
back, releasing her.

The feeling of loss was profound. "But, then, why…" Her voice
was a mere thread of sound. "Is it… because of my abilities?

His eyes snapped open. "What? No! Of course not. Oh, Lois…" He
made as if to draw her into his arms again, but her heart
stuttered from anticipation to disappointment as he checked
himself. "No. It's not about that at all -- at least, not in the
way you meant it."

He fiddled with his tie for a moment, then stuffed his hands
into his pockets. "I *am* attracted to you, Lois. Very attracted
to you. Completely and utterly -- and I have been since the
moment we met. And I've hoped that you would come to feel the
same. I don't think I could change how I feel about you --
regardless of your abilities or mine." He shifted both hands to
his back pockets. "And I'm having a hard time keeping my hands
off you right now."

Bewildered, she stared at him, ignoring the odd little leap her
heart gave at his words. He was telling her what she had wanted
to hear. Sort of. But at the same time, it was somehow not what
she wanted to hear. There was something wrong. "Then why…"

He gestured to her couch. "Here, let's sit."

She sank down, and he sat beside her, taking her hands in his.
"I always thought I was the only one, Lois." He smiled faintly.
"On the one hand, to find out that you have the same… gifts…
Well, I won't deny it's very exciting." He looked down at their
clasped hands, and she felt his tighten around hers for a moment.
"But there's something else to consider…"

What, Clark?" It was barely a whisper.

He looked directly at her. "What if… Lois, what if we're
somehow… related?"
 
Well, that was something else that had not occurred to her. Not
once. It should have, but it hadn't.

He hurried on as if she would interrupt, but at the moment she
couldn't have said anything to save her life.

"There are the obvious similarities… We both have dark hair,
dark eyes. We both have these abilities. And there's the manner
of our arrival on earth. But most of all -" He gestured to the
baby garment and the blanket, now resting on her coffee table.
"How do you explain the crest? And the colors?"

"I never even…" She finally found her voice. "Clark, it never
even occurred to me. Even when I saw your outfit the first
time…"

"I know. And I guess we could be cousins. That wouldn't be *so*
bad, I guess. I mean -- at least I wouldn't feel so… guilty for
being so attracted to you. But what if…" His hands tightened on
hers to the point that if she hadn't been invulnerable it would
have hurt. He was clearly reluctant to say it. "Lois, what if
you're my… sister?" The last word was an anguished whisper.

No. *No*. They couldn't be. Not after she'd finally found him.

"We can't be, Clark," she tried. "What about this… attraction?
If we are related, then how…"

"It could happen, Lois. Two adult siblings, having never met
before? Who didn't grow up in the same household, didn't have an
entire childhood of… *knowing* they were related?" He shook their
still-clasped hands gently. "We just don't know for sure. We
can't act on this attraction unless… until we know for sure. And
I don't know of any way to find out."

She couldn't look at him. Couldn't think. Couldn't… Despite her
best efforts, a tear dropped onto her shirt, leaving a small,
dark spot on the fabric.

"Oh, Lois," he said softly, and drew her into his arms. She went
unresistingly, and rested her head against him and cried. She
cried for what she was losing -- and what she'd already lost. She
cried for sad and lonely little-girl-Lois, and poor, beloved,
tired Mama, who had died and gone away. She cried for the love
she barely remembered, and all the times she'd had to struggle
over some looming obstacle all alone. And finally, she cried for
what she'd found. If he was her brother, she'd finally -- finally
-- found a family. But at way, way, *way* too high a cost.

-----

A very long time later, the two of them were sitting --
carefully not touching -- on her couch. Lois had finally managed
to slow the torrent of tears that had been building up steadily
behind the dam she'd put in place when she'd climbed into the big
black car with the Doctors Lane that long-ago day.

Any trace of self-consciousness she might have felt at losing
such complete control over her emotions was instantly stilled
when she pulled away from him, looking up almost apprehensively
into his face, and realized that he, too, had tears tracing down
his cheeks. He'd brushed one hand, cupped, down the side of her
face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and gently cradled
her cheek for a brief moment, then smiled fleetingly before
wiping his face with no sign of embarrassment.

"How about if I make us some tea?" he had asked quietly. "My mom
always says that while it might not solve any problems, it gives
comfort. I think we could both use a little comfort right now."

When she'd shyly nodded, he'd risen to his feet, again taking
her hand and bringing her with him. He'd matter-of-factly asked
if she wanted to take the opportunity to wash her face, adding
that he would do the same at her kitchen sink if she didn't mind.
His calm treatment of the situation had further allayed her
lingering uneasiness at so completely breaking down, and she had
agreed with his suggestion.

She'd brought Mama's box with her when she'd returned, joining
him as he placed two mugs of milky tea on her coffee table. She'd
started telling him about Mama and how she'd found a baby in a
spaceship, and about Sam and Ellen, and about Princess Elizabeth
and fighting dragons.

And she'd showed him the chains, asking, "What do you think they
mean?" as he fingered them gently.

"I don't know," he'd answered. "They sort of look like letters."
He'd glanced at her and said softly, "I'd like to think they're
like those friendship bracelets -- you know, 'best' on one half
and 'friends' on the other. But…" He'd trailed off, then added,
"But I think… they're probably letters. Initials."

They'd both fallen silent, remembering that they shared the
'S.'

After a moment, she'd offered him Mama's letter. He'd read it
slowly, then without speaking, he'd read it a second time while
she'd sat as patiently as she could beside him, waiting for his
reaction.

He'd surprised her when, instead of commenting on the letter,
he'd asked if he could read the story of Princess Elizabeth,
clearly not doubting for a moment that she still had it. She'd
brought it to him from its place in the bedside table drawer,
then sat watching his face as he read the gently-used little book
to its end.

Now he looked up at her and said soberly, "I wish I could have
met her, Lois. It's obvious that she was an intelligent and
courageous young woman, and she had such a tremendous influence
in helping make you who you are. She taught you to fight the
dragons, didn't she?"

"Yes." She whispered it, fighting tears again.
 
"You never really lost her completely, you know," he said
gently. "Because she's always been in your heart. And she passed
her loving heart on to you, Lois. Her strength and courage -- and
love -- live on in you. I know she would be proud of what you've
accomplished."

"I… Clark, I'm not… Thank you, but I'm not what you think. I
don't think I know how to love. I'm… I'm Mad Dog Lane, you
know."

He smiled at her, his beautiful smile that still made her want
to grab hold of something to make sure she didn't start floating.
"I know what I see, Lois. You wear Mad Dog Lane like armor, and
you fight dragons. But underneath all that, I see a beautiful and
courageous young woman who's fought dragons in the form of
corruption and dishonesty, greed and evil, so well that she is at
the top of her profession. And I see -- although you keep it well
hidden -- how much you care. You may not think you have a soft
heart; you may not think you know how to love, or that you're
worthy of love. But you do, and you are."

Except for the part about being at the top of her profession, he
was describing Mama. She had to swallow hard around the lump in
her throat. He saw all that in her? She had to… she wasn't going
to cry again. She'd done enough of that. It was time to be
strong. Time to finish this investigation, expose Luthor, and
then… 

Then fight with everything she had at her disposal to keep this
incredible man in her life. If she had to accept him as a
brother, she'd -- she'd find a way. Letting him go wasn't an
option. But until she had proof, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that
they were related, she wasn't going to give up hope.

She straightened up and looked directly into his eyes. In a
voice firm with resolve, she said, "Clark, this -- you and me --
is just another kind of fight. Just a different kind of dragon.
We just have to fight this the same way we'd fight a dragon. To
find out for sure, somehow…"

"Lois, how do we fight something so intangible?" He took her
hands in his again, squeezing them gently, and then released her.
"I want to know for sure, too -- just as much as you. But I'm
scared, too. Right now, I can wonder. I can dream. I can hope.
But if what we suspect is confirmed, my hopes are gone… You
know?"

"Yeah." She knew. It was why she was so determined to disprove
it.

Neither of them said anything else for a while. Finally, Lois
leaned forward and set her empty mug on the table. "Clark, I need
to know for sure. If we *are* related… I -- we -- have to find a
way to… resist this attraction. If we find out we're… related…
for sure, do you think this… thing… between you and me will just
go away?" 

"I don't know. I don't think I could just… turn it off, Lois.
Maybe… maybe I'd have to move on again."

Sheer panic coursed through her and she reached blindly for him.
"No! No -- Clark, I can't lose you! < I can't lose you, too. >" If
he *was* her brother… that was better than not having him at all,
wasn't it?

She didn't realize she was clinging to him until he gently freed
one hand and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Lois, I'd
still come and see you, you know… Or you could come and see me.
But if we *are*… Well, I think it would be easier if I… didn't
get to see you all the time. It would be just too hard."

"There *must* be some way to find out! There has to be
something, somewhere," she cried. "Maybe… If only we could do
genetic testing…"

"Yeah…" He ran a hand through his hair again. "Of course, even
if they could get a needle in -- who knows how similar or
different our DNA would look from everyone else's?"

"But would they really know what they were seeing, Clark?" She
felt the first faint stirring of excitement. "Nobody knows about
us. Even if there are some differences between our blood and
everyone else's, I'd think it would be subtle, wouldn't it? I
don't know much about genetic testing, but they'd only compare us
with each other, right? Not with… the entire human DNA thing.
Besides, other than our special abilities, we *look* like
everyone else. We don't really know for sure that we're from…"
She waved a hand vaguely toward the ceiling. "…outer space. Maybe
we really were both… I don't know, some kind of experiment…" She
trailed off because he was shaking his head.

"Lois. I think we can pretty much guarantee the 'outer space'
part. The ships aren't the only proof of that. But more
importantly -- you're forgetting the invulnerability thing. How
would they get a sample of blood in the first place?"

"Oh." Caught up in the idea, she'd forgotten that huge little
detail. "Yeah."

After another small silence, she ventured, "What if… Do you
think -- since we have the same powers, would we be able to do it?
Draw blood, I mean? Not really *hurt* each other, but…"

He was on his feet in an instant. "No!" 

It was loud and emphatic, and she was startled. It must have
shown on her face, because he drew in a deep breath, and as she
also rose to her feet, he said in a much quieter voice, "No,
Lois. Absolutely not. Not even for this. Don't ask me to hurt
you, to somehow draw your blood. I just… can't." The last was
said in a whisper, and as if he couldn't help himself, he pulled
her into his arms, one hand curving up over the back of her head
as he pressed her to him. "Please don't ask me to do that," he
whispered into her hair. "Because even if we do have the same
powers, I don't think it would be just a little pinprick."

"I'm sorry, Clark." She wanted to stay where she was, listening
- without any special effort -- to his heart beating just under
her ear. But after a moment, she pulled away slightly. He let her
go, but when she looked up into his face, he still looked
troubled.

"I *am* sorry, Clark," she repeated. "I'm just… grasping at
straws, I guess. I wasn't thinking. It wouldn't be just a
pinprick, would it? And you're right -- I couldn't hurt you in any
way, either."

His expression softened. "I know. And I understand. I just wish
there was an easy way to figure this out." 

"What about… can't they test other things, Clark?" she asked
hesitantly. "What about… Don't they test hair sometimes? It
doesn't *have* to be blood, does it?"

He frowned. "I remember reading something about the latest
developments in forensics… It's all very new technology, but
yeah, I think they can use hair as well as blood. Certain skin
cells, too. But we're back to the potential differences between
us and everyone else. Can we risk it? Assuming we can find
somebody who'd do it, and assuming it even works for siblings.
There's less shared DNA between siblings than between, say,
parent and child. That I do remember."

"Shoot. Yeah, I remember that from college." She sighed. "I
think it's worth researching, Clark. Maybe if we know more about
what it entails, we can decide whether it's worth pursuing."

He nodded. "Okay. We'll see what we can find. Maybe… maybe we'll
get lucky." He gently stroked one finger along her jaw. "Okay?"
he asked softly.

She gave him a slightly tremulous smile. "Yeah. Maybe we will
get lucky."

He picked up the empty mugs from her coffee table and turned
toward the kitchen. She followed as he went to the sink and
washed them with a minimum of fuss.

"Where do these go?" he asked. "They were already out on the
counter when I made the tea."

"Yeah, I figured we'd have coffee or something," she replied.
He'd found the tea easily enough, but since Ellen had bought -
and stocked for her -- a set of jars labeled 'coffee', 'tea',
'sugar', and 'flour' when Lois had moved in, it wasn't exactly a
difficult task. "The upper cabinet closest to the sink."

He opened the door, paused for a moment, and then reached in and
pulled out a silvery metal spiral. "Uh, Lois… is this supposed to
be in there?" he asked her with a crooked grin.

It was the spoon she'd been twisting absently around her fingers
while she waited for him to arrive. She could feel herself
blushing, which was a definite first. "No. And I'm not discussing
it, either," she said with a touch of Mad Dog in her voice.

He chuckled, then laughed outright as she continued, "Just put
the mugs away, Kent." Complying, he shut the cabinet door and
turned to her, still laughing. And then stilled suddenly, looking
at her intently as she laughed back at him.

Her smiled faded. "What?"

"You," he said simply. "You are beautiful, Lois." 

They stared at each other, across what felt like a rapidly
narrowing space. Lois could hear both of their hearts, racing,
and she held her breath in anticipation of… He moved closer,
reaching out to again gently cup her cheek, his long fingers
tucking under her hair.

"Lois…" It was a whisper.

He was so close they were almost, but not quite, touching. His
gaze moved to her mouth, and became intent as she
self-consciously moistened her lips. His eyes darkened at the
action, and she shivered with anticipation at the look in his
eyes.

Six inches. Six tiny little inches was all that separated her
mouth from his. All she had to do was rise onto her tiptoes, and
she could know what it was like. To learn what all the fuss was
about kissing. To kiss him. Clark. Her… brother?

She backed away quickly, even as he seemed to remember at the
same moment. He turned away from her, running one hand through
his hair, breathing hard. She closed her eyes and drew deep,
steady breaths until she felt like she was in control again, then
opened them to see that he'd moved around to the other side of
the kitchen's island.

"Um, maybe I should go…" he started, and she rushed into speech.
She wasn't ready for him to go yet.

"No! No, Clark. Please stay -- just a little longer? Let's go sit
down again -- we can… can talk some more and maybe figure
something out…" Grasping at any excuse to make him stay, she
remembered what he'd said earlier. "You said the ships aren't the
only proof that we're from… Well, not from earth."

"Yeah." He hesitated. "I don't know if I can just… sit with you
and talk, Lois." But seeing the dismay she didn't bother to hide,
he added gently, "Yes, I'll stay awhile longer. C'mon. Maybe we
can brainstorm a little more? And I'll tell you what else
supports the whole 'outer space' thing."

---

They sat down again, taking care to leave space between them.
After an awkward moment of silence, Clark said, "From the letter
and your box of… things, it sounds like your mother kept
everything that was in your ship. I wonder, though, if yours had
a globe?

"A globe?"

"It was in my ship; we think it was part of the navigation
system."
 
Curiously, she asked, "You said earlier… You still have your
ship? Where is it?

He nodded. "Yeah -- Dad hid it at the farm."

"So what does it look like? What was in it besides the globe
thing?"

"Well, I've only seen it a couple of times." Slowly, he
continued, "There are symbols -- maybe letters -- on the outside.
The ship is very small… Mom says they estimated I was about
eighteen months to two years old when they found me. I was
wearing a one piece suit, like a sleeper, and there was a blanket
tucked around me."

"Like mine?"

"No -- yours is sort of… loosely woven. Mine -- Mom showed it to
me when she made the suit; that's where the 'S' came from, the
blanket. It's more of a *blanket* sort of blanket, you know?
Thicker, solid. Like a typical blanket on your bed." 

"It's blue, though? And yours had the 'S' emblem on it?

"Yes, but -- Superman's blue. Bright, primary blue the same color
as the suit. And yes, the actual emblem Mom sewed to the chest of
the suit was originally on the blanket -- you can see where it
was fastened on."
 
"So what is the globe, do you think?" she asked curiously. "You
said maybe the navigational system?"

"Yeah. I think it might be a guidance system. Mom and Dad kept
it with the other stuff. I saw it once when I was about ten years
old -- I was asking questions about these powers I was developing,
so Dad and Mom told me the story of how they'd found me. Dad took
me out to the barn and showed me the ship, and then Mom showed me
the stuff -- the blanket and globe and things -- that they'd stored
in a box inside the house. I didn't see any of that stuff again
until I asked Mom to make me the suit. She brought the box out to
show me the 'S' emblem, and we started talking about the whole
thing again. Mom gave me the globe, and I was holding it -- you
know, looking at it -- when it started to glow."

"It did? All by itself?" 

"Yeah. I didn't turn it on or anything. It showed earth, then a
red planet. And the word 'Krypton' came into my mind." 

"Like… telepathy or something?" she asked.

"More like… I don't know… Like when you're trying to remember a
song. You can't quite remember the tune, but then you see the
lyrics, and the tune comes back to you."

"Krypton. You think that's your -- our… home planet?"

"I don't know. Yes." He sighed. "I think so. The thing is,
that's all the globe did. It showed earth, then this red planet;
I… remembered Krypton, and the display went back and forth
between earth and Krypton a few times, then shut off."

"Where is it? Can I see it?" It had probably been packed away
again at his parents' farm, but maybe they could go see it some
time.

"It's at my place -- I brought it back with me from Smallville. I
can go get it, or we can go over to my apartment, if you
prefer."

"Where do you live?" It was something she'd been wondering.

"It's not too far from here, actually. About four blocks away -
on Clinton. It's a loft apartment, on the roof; it's in a
semi-industrial area, so I don't have to worry… you know, about a
lot of neighbors as I'm coming and going. I moved in right after
I got the job at the Planet. The place was in poor shape, but the
landlord agreed that I could fix it up a bit."

"That's one of the drawbacks here," Lois commented. "I've never
felt comfortable flying except at night. I'm afraid someone will
see me. Is your apartment a penthouse?"

Clark laughed. "No -- not by any stretch of the imagination. But
it is on top of the building. I'm not sure what it was before it
was an apartment, but the building is a converted warehouse. So
maybe it was -- I don't know, maintenance or something. Anyway, I
like it. It has a balcony, and there are no other residential
buildings immediately on either side…"

"So no curious neighbors, huh?"

"Right," he replied with a grin. "I was lucky to find it. The
buildings on both sides are businesses, and they each share a
common wall with mine. Both neighboring buildings are a story
shorter than mine if you count my place, so there are no windows
facing my apartment."

"I'd like to see it. And the globe, of course."

"Anytime," he said warmly. Then more soberly, "It probably won't
tell us much, though. I mean -- I guess if it's a navigation
system, it might have the coordinates for the planet -- Krypton.
But anyway, you should at least see that. I wonder if it'll
remind you of anything, though. You would have been so much
younger when you arrived."
 
She nodded. "Around three months old or so, I think, based on
when Mama decided my birthday must be. You said you were around
eighteen months to two years old? When your parents found you?"

"Yes. We probably arrived at about the same time. So -- probably
-- we left this planet, Krypton, at about the same time, too."

"And maybe…" she sat up straight. "Clark, you said you haven't
seen the ship since you were about ten years old? Maybe we should
- I don't know, look it over again, too. Maybe there's some
information still inside it."

"I doubt it. I think Mom and Dad removed everything that might
give us any kind of clue to my origins. But sure, we can go look
-- when I was ten, I was more interested in the fact that it was
a spaceship than anything else."

"Could we go out there and take a quick look -- maybe tomorrow
night? Would you need to call your mom and dad and let them know
you're -- we're -- coming?"

"I do usually call them if I know ahead of time that I'm going
to stop by," Clark answered. "But not always. I'm going out there
tomorrow night for dinner -- Mom and Dad want to hear all about my
debut as Superman. Why don't you come with me?"

"Oh…" Meet his parents? Somehow, she'd thought they'd just stop
by, check out the ship, and then leave. But -- actually have
dinner with his mom and dad? She wouldn't know how to act. Or
what to say. And what if they hated her on sight? She hesitated,
then said, "Well… but won't they be expecting just you? For
dinner, I mean? I… I'm not very good at meeting people, Clark.
And what if they don't… Well, I'm not very easy to like..."

He turned to face her, raised his hands, and gently cradled her
face so that she was forced to look directly into his eyes. His
palms were warm against her cheeks and his fingers tunneled under
her hair against her neck, causing a long delicious shiver to run
through her. "Lois." He leaned forward, and for a breathless
moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, holding her
gaze with his, he said softly but emphatically, "You are
infinitely likeable. I know you don't think so, but all you have
to do is look at how the people you *do* allow past your barriers
treat you. Perry treats you like a daughter; Jimmy will drop
whatever he's doing if you need help. Please come with me
tomorrow. My parents know how I feel about you, and they really
do want to meet you."

His eyes were beautiful, dark and liquid, like coffee and
cinnamon and the finest chocolate, shot through with golden
flecks. She would do anything he wanted, follow him anywhere,
when he looked at her like that. "Okay." It was a whisper, but he
would hear it.

He did. "Tomorrow night, okay?" he asked softly. His thumbs
stroked lightly along her cheekbones and then he was letting her
go. "We can fly, if you like? It should be dark enough. If not,"
he flashed a quick grin at her, lightening the mood considerably,
"Superman could always carry you. He does that sometimes, you
know."

She laughed a little, as he had intended, and he rose to his
feet and pulled her to hers. "It's not very late; would you like
to see the globe? I can bring it here, or we could go over to my
place. I suspect we won't have much free time tomorrow, what with
Superman's appearance and everything, and then going out to
Smallville tomorrow night."

"Yes -- I'd like to see the globe tonight, if that's okay," she
told him. "We can go to your place -- I'd like to see it, too."

Sweeping his arm toward her window, he asked with a smile, "Fly
with me?"

Within seconds they were airborne.

It was the strangest, most exciting and exhilarating feeling,
flying with Clark. Flying *with* him, beside him -- although there
was something to be said in favor of flying held in his arms -
with nothing but the night air around them. She'd always loved
flying, but now it would never be the same again. No -- forever
more, it would be better -- beyond good. Even if she didn't ever
fly with him again, the memory of sharing it with him would last
forever.

-----

Clark's apartment door opened onto a landing, from which a short
stair led down into the main room. She looked around at the
gleaming wood floors, the brick archways through which she could
see there was a bedroom. The kitchen ran along one wall; it had
an island like hers did. His apartment had a vastly different
look and feel to it -- hers was much more modern and almost…
utilitarian -- but she liked his place. It had a homey feeling to
it that she hadn't felt for a long time -- not since those early
years with Mama in their cramped little apartment.

"Wow."

"Feel free to look around," he said with a smile, moving down
the steps.

She followed. "You said… it was in poor repair? It sure doesn't
look like it…"

"Yeah, it was. The floor was trashed; the cupboards had no
doors, and the handrail there at the stairs was broken off at the
floor. I fixed it up -" He paused to flash a teasing grin at her.
"…I can do it pretty quick, you know. I had to replace the sink;
I went ahead and replaced the refrigerator and stove while I was
at it. About the only thing in good condition -- grimy, but sound
- was the brickwork and those windows in the bedroom." He
gestured toward the archway.

She looked past him, through the archway; there were windows
extending from a window seat to the ceiling, and she could see
the balcony he'd mentioned. She didn't enter the room -- somehow,
it felt a little too intimate.

She gestured toward a black cast-iron spiral staircase near the
archway. "What's up there?" 

"It's a small loft; I use it for storage right now."

She moved away from the archway, back into the main room. "Oh.
Well, it all looks really nice, Clark. I don't think I could… I
mean, I'm fast, too, but… I don't know how to… replace sinks or
fix floors, or…"

He followed her, and gestured to the couch. "Have a seat. Well,
I grew up on a farm. There were always lots of opportunities to
do carpentry, plumbing, mechanical work -- stuff like that. I
also traveled a lot -- all over the world, after college -- and in
a lot of places, if I didn't fix whatever it was that needed
fixing, I had to do without."

She sat down on the couch, which was about a thousand times more
comfortable than hers. "You said something before about moving
on…" She trailed off as they both remembered the circumstances in
which he'd said it. After an awkward moment, she rushed on. "So,
you traveled a lot? You said -- all over the world?" 

He sat down too, carefully leaving several feet of space between
them. Leaning back into the corner of the couch, he rested one
arm along the back and said, "Yeah, you know -- it's easy to move
around -" He made a hand motion that she took to mean flying.

He looked so comfortable. She mimicked his position, settling
into her own corner of the couch and stretching her legs out,
feet on the coffee table. *This* was the kind of couch she'd
*intended* to buy. Of course, then maybe she'd never have
discovered her ability to fly… "But… how did you handle… I mean…
if you left Kansas at night, wouldn't it be daylight in some of
the places you went?" How did he fly in the daylight before he
had his Superman suit? Hadn't he worried about being seen? 

He looked puzzled. "Well, yeah… Why?"

She was amazed that he didn't get what she was asking. "What if
you were seen?" she elaborated.

"Oh." He shrugged, and she marveled at how unconcerned he
appeared about the whole thing. "I was always real careful; in
the more developed countries, I just picked uncrowded places and
scanned from above the clouds for potential witnesses before I
landed."

"But what about your passport? I mean, I guess you carried one,
but what about -- I don't know, don't they stamp your passport in
most places if you enter or leave a country?"

"Yes, although in many countries, once you're there, you don't
have to keep showing your passport. I could walk around in
France, or Italy, or wherever, just like anyone else. I guess it
could have been a problem if I was crossing borders in a more
conventional manner -- you know, by car or rail… But I'd usually
just take off, you know, and fly to my next destination."

It had never occurred to her to leave the USA. "…And here I
thought I was doing some cutting edge exploring when I finally
went across the country," she said ruefully.

He smiled at her. "Lois -- I had an advantage. I had two parents
who knew all about my abilities, who encouraged me and helped me
explore them. From what you've told me, you had only yourself.
Without a mentor or really, any guidance, it's far more
impressive what you've done so far with your life." 

She didn't know what to say. 'Thank you' somehow seemed
inadequate. She just wasn't completely sure how to handle his
praise. She had been complimented on her abilities as a
journalist for so long that she was used to it, but she was not
used to compliments on a personal level at all.

"So… Where is it -- the globe?"

His mouth quirked in a lopsided grin, but he allowed her to
change the subject without comment. "Right where you'd expect a
globe to be -- on the bookshelf," he said with a laugh.

She looked at him in astonishment. "On the…?" 

His grin widened. "Yep. See?" He tilted his head toward the
shelves set into the brick behind them.

She looked. A small, featureless, burnished silver globe -- like
something from a modern art gallery -- sat on a small metal globe
stand among the books and display objects. She began to laugh.
"Clark -"

He laughed with her. "Hey -- if I store it in plain sight,
everyone sees what they expect to see: a silver modern art globe
on a stand. Mom found the stand at a flea market in Smallville;
that's what gave me the idea."

She stood and went nearer, aware that he was rising to follow
her. 

"May I?"

In answer, he reached out and picked up the globe, then turned
and placed it in her hands.

It wasn't as heavy as she'd expected, and it felt -- almost warm.
She held it cupped in her hands, turning it slightly as she
inspected it, and then almost dropped it when it suddenly began
to glow.

Clark, slightly behind and to her right, reached out and placed
one hand under hers, adding his support. His other hand settled
on her shoulder; neither of them noticed. "Earth," he said softly
as the blue and green planet appeared, almost as if it was
floating in the depths of the globe. "…And …Krypton," he
continued, as the blue and green faded, to be replaced by a
glowing red planet. Lighter bands, almost orange, swirled across
its face. After a moment, the red planet faded into the familiar
blue and green of earth.

As the blue and green faded into red again, he asked softly, "Do
you… hear it? Or I guess I should say… think it? Krypton?"

As the red planet faded and the globe once more became a smooth
and featureless orb, she said equally softly, "No. There's…
nothing."

She looked up at him. "I didn't feel it, Clark. Maybe I *was*
too young when we… left there." She handed the globe back to him,
trying to stifle her disappointment. Turning back toward the
couch, she asked over her shoulder, "Have you tried to open it?"


"I don't think it opens." Still holding the globe, he returned
to the couch. As they both resumed their seats, he continued, "I
did try, actually, but I don't want to damage it, or crush it."

He shook it gently. They both heard a soft sort of hum, but
nothing else.

Lois slumped back into her corner. "Rats." She hadn't realized
until now how much she'd pinned her hopes on learning something
from the globe.

"Yeah." Clark looked like he felt the same way. He turned the
globe idly, holding it in both hands, then set it on the back of
the couch between them when he stretched his arm out along the
top again.

For several minutes, both of them sat quietly -- not brooding,
exactly, but each immersed in their own thoughts.

---

Finally, Lois stirred in her corner of the couch. "Clark?"

He looked up at her; he looked like his thoughts had been far
away. "Hmmm?'

"How did you know about the bomb?"

"I heard the alarm." 

"No -- no, I mean, how did you know you could… swallow it?" she
asked. "I mean, it was a *bomb*, Clark. How did you know it
wouldn't hurt you? Had you ever done that before?"

He frowned. "No, but… Lois, you're invulnerable too. Why would
you think it could hurt you?"

"Clark, how would I know that?! That it couldn't, I mean. I told
you about Uncle Mike's gym -- it's all I had. I mean, most of us
know better than to… to stand on the tracks as a train is coming,
or… or eat a bomb! Super-powered or not, those sorts of tests
just didn't occur to me." She sat up straighter, throwing her
hands up and out in frustration as she tried to make her point.
"…Just like it never occurred to me to… fly to China, or…" She
slumped back against the corner of the couch. "I guess living my
life from an enforced… *normal* human point of view, I just never
even thought about… venturing out of the earth's atmosphere or
anything like that. I mean, I flew, but always at night…" She
trailed off unhappily.

"Lois," Clark said very gently, and she looked up at him.
"You're… upset about something specific. Can you tell me what it
is?"

She hesitated, and then burst out, "It's just -- I'm supposed to
be this great, fearless reporter -- best ever, Mad Dog Lane -- and
I've just been living this safe little life here in Metropolis!
As if I were just some ordinary… I don't know -- like your basic
girl next door! No adventure! You've been all over the world! And
here I am. Never even flown during the daytime! Well, except with
you -- with Superman -- but you know what I mean. Some fearless
reporter!"

Clark swung his legs off the coffee table and shifted closer to
her. Reaching for her hands, he tugged her gently out of the
corner of the couch, then turned so that they were both facing
forward. He draped his arm loosely around her shoulders and
tugged her lightly against his side, leaning back against the
cushions again. She sat stiffly for a moment before relaxing
against the cushion beside him.

"Is this okay? It's kind of like a hug, but nice and low-key."
When she nodded, he reached back with his free hand and moved the
globe from where it rested behind them, handing it to her rather
absently. As she turned it slowly, looking at it without really
seeing it, he tucked her a little closer to his side and spoke.

"You know I traveled a lot," he said slowly. "Mostly, that was
because I wanted to be able to help people -- but eventually I'd
find myself in a situation where people were beginning to wonder
about me, and so I had to move on. I ended up living in a lot of
different places during that time."

He dropped his head back against the couch, then rolled it to
the side to glance at her before looking forward again.

"In some of those places," he continued, "life isn't like living
in the US at all. There's strife -- real strife -- fighting, bombs,
attacks -- right there in the middle of people's lives. They live
their lives surrounded by that stuff, and they learn to… work
around it, I guess. Like we live with what are really mere
inconveniences -- power outages, bad weather, rush hour traffic. I
couldn't help but be exposed to that violence sometimes. And once
I realized that 'invulnerable' really, truly meant…
*invulnerable*, it was easy for me to extrapolate that to other
new situations."

He glanced at her again with a faint smile. "So -- faced with a
small bomb and not enough time left on the timer to get it
outside and safely away from the ship even at super speed, I had
to come up with an alternative solution. The only thing I could
think of that was, essentially, a bomb-proof containment system,
was me."

He ran his free hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly.
"And I guess… I lived more of an explorer's life, I think. I
mean, growing up on the farm -- I got used to exploring, finding
new things -- like, could I climb that tree? And how high could I
go? Could I hit that target on the hay bale? And from how far
away? I grew up in a wide open area where it was much easier for
me to experiment with some of my powers."

He straightened up, withdrawing his arm and turning to look at
her fully. Without a hint of a smile, he said softly and
deliberately, "Lois, you are the best and most fearless person I
know. So much more than me, because you faced all of this
completely on your own. I had my mom and dad to fall back on -- to
discuss things, to run to when I accidentally set a section of
the pasture fence on fire, to talk me through all the startling -
and scary -- things I could do. I had complete and utter
acceptance from them. Why would you even think of… of leaving the
atmosphere, or flying across the ocean -- when you had such huge
frontiers to conquer, all alone, right here in the city?"

She gazed back at him, the globe forgotten in her lap, wanting
to believe him. "But…"

"Lois, while I was wandering around, trying to figure out where
I wanted to be and how I could help, you were here -- fighting
dragons. And like Princess Elizabeth, you weren't automatically
handed a suit of armor, and a sword, and a fearless steed. Like
her, you had to make do with what you had -- just yourself. That
is the greater accomplishment."

She looked away from him for a moment, unable to speak. When he
spoke to her like that, looked at her like that -- it was like
flying and hot chocolate and Mama's arms all at once. Around the
lump in her throat, she whispered, "Thank you, Clark."

He leaned back against the couch, draping his arm across her
shoulders again and tugging her lightly against his side once
more. "You're welcome, Lois. But I'm simply telling the truth."

---

They sat for a while longer before she moved away from him
reluctantly. "I guess I should go." She handed him the globe.
"It's going to be crazy at the Planet tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Clark stood up with her. As he moved over to the shelves
and replaced the globe on its stand, she suddenly thought of
something.

"Clark -- we never talked about the Superman interview. I think
we ought to get it into tomorrow's evening edition, don't you?
Right now, nobody really knows anything about Superman. But if
you're going to start openly helping people, it would be good if
people know you're really just here to help -- before you show
up. Before anyone starts speculating and gets it wrong."

He smiled at her. "You're right; there haven't been any
emergencies I've needed to deal with yet, but that's bound to
change." He frowned thoughtfully. "We'll have to find a way to
cover my absences, though."

"Oh, that's easy," she said, waving a hand airily. "You're a
reporter. You've got sources to meet." She flashed him an impish
grin. "Or I'll suddenly decide you need to go get us some
Metropolis Coffee. I'm Mad Dog Lane; nobody'll think twice about
it."

He laughed. "Here, let's sit at the table and hash out the
basics. Speaking of coffee, do you want any?" He stopped, an
arrested look on his face.

"What?" She had followed him into the kitchen area and dropped
into the chair he pulled out for her. He picked up a notepad and
pen from the island and handed them to her.

"I just thought of it -- everyone at the Planet knows you
function better with your morning coffee… but if you're like me,
caffeine doesn't affect you."

She laughed. "Haven't you ever heard of the placebo effect? Just
because it doesn't *actually* affect me doesn't mean I don't rely
on the whole 'gotta have my morning coffee' routine to start my
day. Besides, I like the taste. And yes, thanks, I'll have a
cup."

Chuckling, he set up the coffee maker quickly, then pulled out
the chair opposite her and sat down.

"So… what do we say?" he asked.

"Well, people are going to want to know where you came from.
Let's see… what sort of spin can we put on that, without actually
lying?"

"If we say I'm an alien, you know that's going to freak some
people out," he commented. "All the doomsday, aliens-are-coming
folks'll be crawling out of the woodwork."

"Good point." She chewed idly on the end of the pen while she
thought. "Okay -- how about this? You've been here as long as you
can remember; you don't know how or why, but you were born this
way. Technically, that's all true. We can keep it vague."

He nodded. "I guess that'll work. What else?"

"Well, people will want to know who you are -" She raised a hand
to stop him speaking as he opened his mouth. "I know, I know -
the whole point of the suit is to protect Clark Kent. But they
*will* ask, Clark."

He slumped in his seat. "Maybe I shouldn't have done this."

She smiled sympathetically at him. "No, I think you needed to do
this, Clark. I fight the dragons my way, and you fight them with
me -- but you also have a deep-seated *need* to… help. It's just
part of your personality."

"So how do we avoid that question?" He still looked worried.

"We don't. We simply say you're Superman. And if -- when -- they
ask who you were *before* you were Superman, you simply say
you've always been this way, but have only recently been able to
help. People'll think it's about one of your powers -- you know,
that you've only recently begun to… I don't know. Hear cries for
help. Fly. Something like that."

"Okay… What else?"

"Well, the usual. Where do you live, what do you do when you're
not saving people, do you have a family and are they all like
you, *how* do you do the things you do, how strong are you, how
fast are you, are there others like you, are you an alien who's
going to take over the world, *why* are you doing this, why the
suit…" she trailed off, noting his deer-in-the-headlights look.

He dropped his head into his hands. "I'm beginning to think this
was a really, really bad idea." His voice was muffled.

"Clark, as Superman, you can *choose* not to answer questions,
you know. And it's okay to say you don't know. The 'where do you
live/what do you do' questions -- you can simply say that you
prefer not to answer questions of a personal nature."

He raised his head and looked at her hopefully. "And the rest?"

She grinned at him. "Let's see -- the 'how strong are you/how
fast are you' questions? You just answer those truthfully." She
gazed at the ceiling a moment, thinking back over the questions
she'd listed. "And… Oh, yeah -- the family stuff -- you say again
that you prefer not to answer questions of a personal nature. The
answer to the 'are you an alien/take over the world' question is
a firm and emphatic no. With a reassurance that you're merely
here to help. The 'are there any others like you' question -- the
answer's no." She stopped, waiting for the objection she knew was
coming.

He didn't disappoint her. "But, Lois, that's not true. What
about you?"

"It's all in which word you focus on, Clark. I'm not like you -
not exactly. For one thing, I'm a girl. You're not. Nit-picky, I
know, but hey, whatever works. And don't forget, *I* don't fly
around in a brightly colored and highly distracting form-fitting
suit." She laughed as he blushed again.

"Okay…" he said doubtfully. "It's a stretch, but… I'll accept
it. Maybe I could just say no, not as far as I know…"

"So all that's left is the 'why' questions… 'Why are you doing
this?' and 'Why the suit?' …Let's see…" She chewed on the pen
again as she thought.

"Well," he ventured, "the first 'why' is that I help because I
can. I have these incredible powers -- why not use them for
good?"

"That's incredibly naïve and simple, Clark, but since it's true,
we'll let it stand. We can always say you stand for truth and
justice; it's what we do at the paper, too, so it's doubly true.
Okay?" At his nod, she continued briskly, writing it in the
notebook as she spoke, "So -- truth and justice… Hmmm… and… Oh, I
don't know… how about 'The American Way'?"

"Well… But I'll help anyone who needs help, Lois. Not just in
the USA. I would want people to know that…"

"Okay. Actually, it does sound a little hokey. So truth and
justice it is,' she said, scribbling out part of what she'd
written. Then, looking up, she smiled impishly at him again.
"Now… about the suit. What was it that Cat called you? A 'god in
a cape'?"

He actually squirmed.

She burst out laughing. "Okay, okay -- I'll stop teasing you."
Over his ironic "Thank you" she said, "How about a nice,
technical answer? We can say it cuts wind resistance when you
fly, and the colors instantly identify you in cases where scared,
anxious, or panicky people may need help quickly. Like red or
yellow for firemen. What do you think?"

He smiled his brilliant, float-inducing smile at her, and she
actually left the seat of the chair slightly. "I think I'd be
totally lost without you, Lois." His smile faded. "I just wish…"
He trailed off.

"I know," she said softly. "Just… we *will* find out, Clark. We
*have* to. And now, I think we have enough here." She tapped the
notebook on the table. "I guess I ought to go."

He stood. "C'mon, I'll fly you home." As she rose to her feet,
he laughed. "Boy, now that's not something I ever imagined myself
saying!"

They were both laughing as they stepped out onto his front step
and lifted into the air together.

-----

The level of excitement at the Planet the next morning was
almost as high as it had been the day before. LNN was constantly
replaying Superman lifting the shuttle into space, and the
newspaper staff kept drifting to the television monitors to
watch. Apparently, no one tired of seeing it.

A television news team returning from filming some scheduled
interview, according to LNN, had managed to briefly catch
Superman flying over the city just after dawn; LNN alternated the
EPRAD segment with the newer segment, which was barely a minute
in length. 

Lois had arrived early, to see Clark exit the stairwell shortly
after she'd sat down at her desk. He was adjusting his tie; he
must have changed out of Superman's suit on the roof.

"Good morning, partner," she greeted him with a smile. "What's
up?"

He pulled her visitor's chair out and sat down, leaning toward
her as he said quietly, "There was an accident on the Queensland
Park Bridge; Superman helped extract a trapped motorist." He
smiled at her. "I've got the story; it ought to make Perry
happy."

She laughed. "Definitely. Ready to start on the Superman
interview?"

He nodded.

"Was that where y-" She glanced around; there was no one within
earshot. Even so, they might as well get in the habit now of
speaking about Superman as if he were a separate person. "…Was
that where *Superman* was going when the news crew filmed that?"
She tilted her head toward the news monitors, where the shorter
segment was beginning again.

Clark either had the same thought or more likely, picked up on
her unspoken hint. Glancing at the monitors, he shook his head.
"No -- nobody got the rescue on film. Superman was just doing a
fly-over -- you know, checking for anything obvious…."

"Ah. We should put that in the interview. That Superman does
regular patrols over the city. I imagine that information alone
may deter at least *some* of the criminal element."

He laughed softly. "Nice. You are obviously a master at this
sort of thing."

She smirked at him. "And don't you forget it, Kent!"

They began to work the Superman interview into a readable
story.

---

By early afternoon, they were again working on what they both
had begun to call the Luthor story. At least between the two of
them; when in earshot of anyone else, both they and Perry
referred to it as the space program story.

They were in the conference room again, re-reading through some
of the information on the newest additions to the Luthor
Industries empire. What they had so far wasn't enough proof to
break the story, but they were getting closer to that point.

They both looked up when Jimmy knocked on the doorframe and
entered. They needed him to start looking for anything else he
could find on the strings of shell corporations; for this, they
would need his less advertised computer hacking abilities. Lois
instructed bluntly as he entered the room, "Jimmy, hack your way
into any place you can think of that will give us information; if
you could just sneak in to Luthor Industries' own system, that'd
be great, too!"

Poor Jimmy gulped, glanced around the conference room somewhat
desperately, as if he didn't quite believe that the room wasn't
bugged, and hissed, "Lois! Don't *say* stuff like that! What if
someone *hears* you?"

She only just managed to suppress both her laughter and her
smile by turning her back on Clark, who'd suddenly developed a
cough. Facing Jimmy squarely, she nodded seriously and patted him
on the shoulder. "Okay. No problem, Jimmy. I understand. Give me
a code word, though, okay?"

He took her seriously. "Uh… You could… Uh…"

"How about…" Clark began helpfully, but Lois quickly cut him
off. It was hard enough to keep a straight face *without* his
help.

"We'll stick with 'in-depth background information,' okay,
Jimmy?" she asked briskly. When the young man agreed, clearly
relieved, she shooed him rapidly out of the room, relying on Mad
Dog Lane to motivate him.

Then she turned toward Clark, who had begun to laugh the moment
the door closed behind Jimmy.

She swatted at his arm. "And some help *you* were, *partner*,"
she said in exasperation. "I mean, *honestly* -- 'unscheduled
file maintenance on a non-client system'? What did you do, haunt
one of the hacker's forums for that one?"

He stopped laughing abruptly. "Lois -"

She sat down, shaking her head and smiling. "Poor Jimmy. I could
barely keep a straight face, and there you were…"

Clark sat in the chair next to her and grabbed her hands.
Startled, she stopped speaking and looked at him.

Looking at her intently, he said, "Lois, I didn't say anything.
At all. How did you know? That I was going to say that? All I did
was think it."

She stared back at him. "Clark, what are you suggesting?"

"I think somehow…" He hesitated. "I think somehow, you… read my
mind, Lois. Or… somehow *heard* me thinking."

Without changing expression, she asked him, "What am I thinking
now, Clark?" 

He gazed at her intently for a long moment, a slight frown on
his face. Finally, he shook his head. "I have no idea, Lois." He
let go of her hands, sitting back and running one hand through
his hair, as he often did when he was trying to work something
out.

She'd been deliberately thinking of her two Kerth awards and the
cabinet she kept them in. She hadn't *really* expected him to
pick up on that, but found she was at least a little disappointed
that he hadn't.

"So…" she began.

He sighed. "I don't know how you did it. *Somehow*, though, you
picked up on it. It can't possibly have been sheer coincidence.
Did you even know that phrase before you said it?"

"No," she admitted. "I didn't."

---

As the workday drew to a close, Lois began to feel more and more
nervous.

They would be going to Smallville this evening. To see the ship
- but also to have dinner with Clark's folks. What if… What if
his mom and dad took an instant dislike to her? She didn't really
know how to make a good first impression… 

It was different with work, of course. She didn't worry about
what sort of impression she was making at all when she was
interviewing someone. They knew it was business; she knew it was
business. She wasn't… *trying* to be nice.

And she hadn't been very nice to Clark at all, at first. What if
his mom and dad knew that? His relationship with his parents
seemed so different from her experience with the Lanes, from
things he'd said. So he might have told them all about her.
Everything. Even the… not-so-nice stuff.

Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Maybe Clark could go and just…
take some photographs of the ship, maybe. Of course, then they'd
have to worry about developing the film, and keeping control of
the photos and negatives…

She sighed.

Clark looked up and smiled at her across the desks. Despite her
worry, she found herself smiling back.

"Are you about ready to go?" he asked.

Her smile faltered. "Um… Well, are you *sure* your Mom and Dad
won't mind…?"

His smile became softer. "Lois, they're looking forward to
meeting you. Try not to worry, okay? I know it's easy for me to
say, but it'll be all right."

She couldn't resist teasing him. "You're right, of course…" And
as his smile widened, she added, "It *is* easy for you to say."

His hot chocolate laugh actually did relieve some of her
tension, though.

-----

Smallville wasn't exactly what she'd expected.

Actually, she wasn't sure what she had expected. She'd had a
vague idea of a few buildings in a vast open space -- she'd
pictured the town sitting in the middle of a flat and featureless
prairie.

Instead, it could have been one of the smaller towns outside of
Metropolis. There was a town square with a courthouse -
"Smallville is the county seat," Clark told her -- and a lighted
fountain. There were trees everywhere -- in the small park,
lining the main street, and in the small, neat neighborhoods
surrounding the town's center. There were lots of businesses, and
a fair amount of traffic. But it was early evening, so people
were probably doing their usual after-work chores and activities,
such as buying groceries, or stopping for pizza or a video. "Some
of the stores -- the drug store, the grocery store, and the pizza
and video stores -- are open until 9 pm," Clark told her. 

The Kents' farm was several miles from the town. It looked a lot
like she'd imagined it might. There was a farmhouse -- two
stories, wood and stone -- painted white, with a wrap-around
porch that looked like it would be a cool and inviting place to
sit on a summer evening. There were security lights at the end of
the drive and in the yard, apparently motion-activated because
they blinked on as she and Clark flew over. The barn was big and
solid and old, but again, it looked freshly painted.

They stopped and hovered for a few minutes -- "So you can look
around," Clark said. "That's the barn, of course -- Dad uses it
mostly for farm equipment now. It has stalls -- this used to be a
cattle farm. We have just a couple head now; Dad grows corn and
wheat."

There were a few other buildings -- one looked like a smaller
barn; one was apparently a storage shed, and one, she didn't know
what it was for. Unlike the other buildings, it looked like it
was made out of cement blocks, which had also been painted white.
There was a small concrete pad at one end, with a rusted round
iron cover in the center. A big bell was suspended from a post
set at the edge of the concrete pad.

"What's that?" she asked. 

"That's the milk house," he replied. "And access to the water
pump -- that iron cover opens down into the pump area. They used
to store the milk cans inside the milk house -- it kept them cool
until the truck came and collected them. It's mostly used for
storage, now. Mom uses part of it for her art and sculpting
supplies, as well as the gardening stuff." His mouth quirked into
a grin. "Dad used to ring that bell when it was dinner time --
I'd be out exploring or fishing or climbing trees with my
friends; it was my signal to come home."

As in the town, there were trees. Lots of them. There were quite
a few around the house itself, and a row along the fence dividing
the yard from the road that ran along the property. And there
were dense strips of trees along the edges of some of the fields.
Clark pointed toward a fairly large area of trees in the
distance. "There's a creek over there, and a small pond. I used
to fish in it… And in that tree line -" He pointed in a different
direction. "…Dad and I built my tree house."

"It's all… so different from what I was imagining," Lois told
him. "There are a lot more trees, for one thing…"

Clark laughed. "Most of the state is agricultural," he said.
"…Crops, cattle, and buffalo. And we have our share -- well, I
suppose more than our share if you compare it to New Troy -- of
buttes, mesas, limestone formations, and hills. And of course,
there's the prairie -- there are no trees there, although it's
certainly not flat. It's all rolling hills. Oh -- and of course,
Cawker City, Kansas, is home to the world's largest ball of
twine," he added dryly.

Lois laughed. She was still laughing as they landed on the walk
in front of the porch. Within moments, a small blond woman and a
slightly older man had exited the house and were greeting Clark
with hugs. Then they were turning to her.

"I'm Martha, and this is Jonathan. Hello, Lois -- we're so happy
to meet you!" Clark's mom told her with a smile. "Clark's told us
all about you."
 
Involuntarily, Lois shot an alarmed look at Clark.

He threw his hands out innocently. "It was all good, Lois -- I
swear!" he said, laughing.

Martha laughed, too. She had the same warm laugh as her son.
"Oh, Lois, honey, of *course* all of it was good. Now, you're
probably anxious to see the ship, I imagine, so let's do that
before dinner, shall we?"

Within a few minutes, Lois found herself walking with Clark's
mom as they followed the men out to the barn. "I'm so happy he
has you to talk to now, Lois," Martha said with a smile. "He's
never had anyone he can share any of this with besides us. And
I'm looking forward to being able to talk to you, too. We'll need
to get together again soon for a proper visit. We'd love to have
you come and stay, and of course, you're welcome to spend your
holidays with us. You could come out with Clark…"

Lois wasn't really sure what to say, so she just nodded.

Martha didn't seem to need an answer, anyway. She continued
happily, "After all, from now on, honey, you're part of the
family."

Lois looked a little wildly at Clark, who had reached the open
door of the barn and was waiting with his dad for her and Martha
to catch up. It wasn't that she didn't *like* his parents; on the
contrary, she liked them very, very much. But she was practically
a stranger! She wasn't used to being able to talk so openly about
all of this, and it was a little overwhelming.

He smiled at her reassuringly. "Mom, we don't really know for
sure -" he began.
 
"Oh, Clark, I know that. I wasn't suggesting you marry her
tomorrow, you know…"

Lois resolutely looked at the ground, resisting the urge to
fling herself into the air and fly home. He'd never even *hinted*
that he was thinking of anything… that permanent. And his mom
*did* know that they might actually be… related, didn't she?

"Mom!" Clark didn't sound upset, just mildly exasperated.

"I'm sorry, honey -- I'm embarrassing you, aren't I?" Martha
asked her cheerfully. Lois risked a glance at her as she
continued, "I just meant that whatever happens, you have people
here you can come to if you need to. Both of you. It might take
quite a while to discover the truth, but there isn't a deadline
you have to meet. And in the meantime, it's nice for both of you
to have each other as a friend. A friend who understands you in a
way that no one else really can."

As the four of them entered the barn, Lois said softly, "He…
might be my brother, Mrs. Kent."

"Martha, honey. And yes, Clark told us that. If that's the case,
then we'll welcome you with open arms as our daughter." She
stopped and looked Lois in the eye. "And if it turns out that you
*aren't* related, we'll be just as pleased to welcome you to this
family. In whatever capacity you are comfortable with, even if
it's just as Clark's friend."

This dynamic little blond woman was totally different in manner,
lifestyle, and background from Mama. But they had the same warm
heart, and standing here with Clark's mom, Lois felt closer to
Mama than she had in a long, long time.

She wasn't going to cry again. She'd been doing altogether too
much of that lately. "Um… where is the ship?" she asked. Looking
up at the loft, she continued, "Do you keep it up there?"

"Oh, no, Lois." Martha gestured toward the back of the barn,
down a wide passage between two rows of empty stalls that led
back under the loft. "At haying time, there are people all over
that loft. We keep it down in the cold room."

"The… cold room?" Lois asked curiously. "Is that like a… root
cellar or something?"

"More like -- oh… a basement." That was from Jonathan, who was
waiting for them at the end of the passage.

"Barns have basements?" Lois asked. She'd never pictured that.

Clark laughed. "It sounds funny, doesn't it?" he asked
cheerfully. "But no, not a basement. It's in the lower area of
the barn -" he gestured through the door at the end of the
passageway, and as Lois stepped through, she could see that there
were several steps down into an area that was noticeably cooler
than the main part of the barn. There were smaller stalls, or
pens, in this area, and another door at the end.

"This was where the smaller animals -- sheep and goats, mostly -
were kept, years ago," Jonathan said. "When my grandparents owned
the farm. Before the milk house was built, the milk from the
sheep and goats was kept down here, in the cold room. They didn't
have refrigeration, so they relied on the natural cooling from
under ground.

"Now, of course, we use it for storage," Martha added. "We keep
potatoes, apples, and much of our canned produce down here."

The cold room was actually quite a lot like a basement. There
was a light bulb, nice and bright, in the center of the ceiling,
and there were shelves along one wall. There were what Lois
assumed were canning supplies -- two huge metal pots, a multitude
of empty glass jars and lids, and a whole section of canning
jars, all neatly labeled. Extending her vision slightly, she read
some of the labels with interest. Stewed tomatoes, dilled
carrots, dilled green beans, chutney, salsa, peaches, plums,
apple butter, sweet pickles, pears, winter compote… She didn't
know what all of those were, but she was impressed with the sheer
variety of foods.

There were also boxes labeled 'Seasonal' and 'Christmas
Ornaments.' She didn't see the ship, though. She'd thought that
maybe, like Mama, they would have it wrapped in black plastic
garbage bags, but there was nothing like that at all. "Where…?"
she began. Would they mind if she just started… scanning through
things? 

With a grin, Clark lifted a large box from one of the lower
shelves and set it on the floor. According to the preprinted
cardboard, it had once held a computer monitor -- one of the old
ones, judging from the size of the box. 'Party Supplies' had been
scrawled on it in marker. "In there?" she asked, and looked
through the cardboard to see that the ship was, indeed, inside.
"It's… so small." 

"Well, honey, he wasn't real big," Martha reminded her. "We
estimated he was about eighteen months old when we found him. And
he was small for his age, according to his pediatrician."
 
Lois glanced at Clark.

He grinned at her. "Obviously, I grew."

She moved nearer as Clark folded back the box flaps, lifted the
ship out, and set it on the floor. "May I -?" she asked him.

"Of course." He brushed his hand over the top of the ship, and
the lid opened smoothly.
 
She dropped to her knees beside the little ship and peered
inside. The interior was only just large enough for a baby or a
very young child, with very little room to move around. Toward
the front of the compartment, there was a small recessed area
about the size of Clark's globe. "Is that where…?"

"Yes."

She looked more closely at the ship's interior, using her
special vision. She was aware that Clark, who had knelt down
beside her, was doing the same thing.

Finally, she sat back on her heels. There was nothing else
inside the ship. No compartments, no clues of any kind. She
looked at Clark.

"Nothing." They said it simultaneously.

"And there are these…" Clark indicated the symbols etched along
the edge of the opening. She recognized the 'S,' but nothing
else.

"I wonder what it says?' she mused. The flowing, fluid-looking
symbols went all the way around the ship's opening. A few of them
looked vaguely familiar; there was a sort of 'K' with an extra
hook at the bottom, a very stylized 'Z' whose lower edge curled
back on itself, and a slanted sort of 'F' that extended far above
and below the other symbols -- but everything else was
unrecognizable. "I don't suppose any of this means anything to
you?" she asked Clark without much hope. He'd been awfully
young…

"No." He sighed. "I was pretty sure there wasn't anything here,"
he told her, "but I couldn't help hoping maybe I'd missed
something…"

She'd been hoping the same thing.

But she wasn't ready to admit defeat. "We aren't giving up,
Clark," she said almost fiercely. "We *can't*. There *must* be
something, somewhere…"

"Maybe you should take the inscription with you…" suggested
Martha. And as they both looked at her in inquiry, she continued,
"If you were to treat it like a code, maybe…" 

"…How?" Clark asked.

"Take a rubbing of the letters," she answered. "Clark -- Lois -
one of you must know someone who is good at languages, or
codes…"

Jonathan spoke up. "Martha, do we really want to bring someone
else into this?"

Lois had already noticed that he let the others do most of the
talking, but that when he did speak, everyone listened. He
reminded her, in a way, of one of her college professors -- a man
who had been a genuine mentor to many of his students, and who
had had a wealth of commonsense, practical solutions to the
various questions or problems some of them had had.

"Well, no -- maybe not," Martha conceded. Turning to Clark, she
asked, "What about your friend, Jim -- would he have access to a…
computer decryption program, maybe, or something like that?"

Clark answered doubtfully, "I… don't know, Mom. I'd have to
think about that… I mean, it's not a *code* -- at least, I don't
*think* it is -- it's a language. And how would we explain it…?"

Lois added, "Even if we told someone -- Jimmy, or some language
expert -- that Superman asked us to help him with it, what if it
says something… well, revealing? About Clark, I mean?"

"Good point." For a moment Martha didn't say anything else. Then
with a sigh, she said, "Well, let's at least do the rubbing,
though… maybe you two can quietly work it out on your own. Maybe
your friend could just supply the software, but not be involved
in its actual use…"

Lois glanced at Clark. It was a good idea; then they wouldn't
have to keep pulling the ship out of storage each time they
wanted a look at the inscription, or whatever it was. She
suppressed a giggle. Maybe it said something along the lines of
'to open ship, press here.'

"That's a good idea, Mom. Then we'll have it if we need it, and
we won't have to keep taking the ship out of storage each time we
want to look at the inscription -- if that's what it is. Maybe
it's just… instructions of some kind…"

Lois started and stared at Clark. Was that just coincidence, or
had he…

"I still have some of Clark's crayons." Martha's voice
distracted her from the thought.
 
"Mom!"

Martha laughed. "I'll go get them, honey."

---

Dinner was so far from the ordeal she'd been expecting that Lois
wondered why she'd been so nervous about it.

Martha was a good cook but not a pretentious one. The table was
set, neatly but not overwhelmingly fussily, with green- and
blue-patterned stoneware. The silverware and glasses were simple
and understated.

The conversation was warm and friendly, and Clark's parents were
knowledgeable about a wide variety of subjects and current
affairs. They lingered over coffee, still talking, and Lois found
herself comparing this meal with the meals of her childhood. No
wonder Clark had grown up to be the kind of man he was, with this
couple loving, guiding, and mentoring him.

After a quick consultation with Clark as they had prepared to
leave Metropolis earlier in the evening, Lois had brought Mama's
box of keepsakes with her. At the last moment, she'd retrieved
the little photo album from her bedside table and added that to
the box.

Once the table was cleared, she showed the items to Martha and
Jonathan, at Clark's prompting. Martha exclaimed over the baby
outfit as only a mother would: "Oh, Lois, what a darling outfit,
honey! You couldn't have been more than three months old or so,
from the look of this. Look how tiny you were! And your mother
found you just like we found Clark? Do you have any photos?"

And when Lois showed her the photos in the album, Martha reached
out and placed her hand over Lois's. "Oh, honey… You were just
precious, weren't you?" 

Lois wasn't sure how to respond to that, so instead, she said,
"There are only a few pictures, but Mama saved some other things,
too…" No one else had ever seen the little album until she met
Clark. Now not only had she shared it with Clark, but she was
showing it to this small, energetic woman whom she hardly knew -
and yet, it felt like she'd known Martha and Jonathan for a long,
long time.

"Is this your mother?" Martha softly asked her now, indicating
the picture taken at the kitchen table so long ago.

Around an unexpected lump in her throat, Lois replied equally
softly, "Yes."

Clark reached out and took her hand, squeezed gently, and then
kept hold. She curled her fingers around his. Whether or not he
was… Well, whatever he turned out to be, it was… good to have his
support.

"I wish we could have met her," Martha said. "She looks… well,
you can see where your loving heart came from, Lois."

Lois stared at her in surprise. How could this woman, who'd only
met her tonight, see something like that? Clark had said it, of
course, but he was… Well, Clark was… her friend. He'd been
hanging around her for a while now, long enough to maybe see some
of her more redeeming qualities. But…

She glanced at Clark, who smiled at her and said softly on a
laugh, "I told you the same thing. Do you believe me now?"

She looked back at Martha. "How do you…?" She trailed off. She
didn't even know how to ask what she wanted to know.

"Lois, it's obvious to those who love you," Martha said gently.
"Maybe to someone who doesn't look past your job, it's not so
obvious. But we -- Jonathan and I, and Clark, of course -- we see
the whole 'you.' And honey, it just *shines* out of you."

She held up her hand, guessing -- correctly -- what Lois was
going to ask next. "And yes, we love you already. We felt like we
knew you from listening to Clark talk about you, you know. And
it's obvious how he feels about you, and you about him. How could
we not love you?"

Lois felt Clark's hand tighten on hers. "Mom…"

"I know, Clark. According to what we know so far, you may well
be sister and brother." Lois was impressed by how
matter-of-factly Martha was able to talk about it. "But we don't
know for sure, honey. And I don't know… maybe it's just wishful
thinking, but I don't see a lot of family resemblance… Do you,
Jonathan?"

"Martha, there's no way to really answer that. How many times
have we heard, from more than one person, how much Clark looks
like your mother, or my younger brother, or Aunt Anna? It's often
a matter of perception. Lois and Clark are both dark-haired,
dark-eyed. But their faces have different bone structures. But
then again, they both arrived in space ships, from the same
place. And they have the same... I don't know what you'd call it
-- family crest?" He sighed, and glanced around at each of them.
"I know that's not what you want to hear…" 

"We thought about some kind of… genetic testing," Clark said.
"But we wouldn't be able to provide blood samples…"

"…Clark said he heard somewhere that they can test other things
than blood now, though," Lois added.

"Yes," Martha confirmed. "There are an increasing number of
laboratories that are starting to use other things for DNA
testing now." When they all looked at her in surprise, she
shrugged and said, "When Clark told us about… Well, I found an
article in a recent issue of Scientific American at the library.
It said they're starting to use hair -- you have to have the root
attached -- and skin swabs from inside a person's cheek. The
article said it was as accurate as blood samples for forensics,
paternity testing, and carrier screening -- you know, before a
couple has children, if one of them has some sort of risk for a
disease. It's very new and very expensive technology, much more
expensive than blood testing. But the article also said that
unless you have samples from one or both parents, siblingship
testing isn't very accurate. So even if we can find a lab that
can do it…"

"And yet, if that's what we have to do… " Jonathan sighed.
"Bottom line -- we just don't know whether or not you two are
related. We need to keep looking for clues, because living in a
kind of limbo, not knowing, is no way to live for either of you.
That means exploring different options. And if that means trying
this DNA testing, or trying to translate whatever it says on your
ship, son, then that's what you'll have to do."

There wasn't really anything any of them needed to say in reply.
Clark's dad was right. The reality was that they simply didn't
know for sure. Yet. It was important to remember that. They
didn't know *yet*. But they would. They would keep searching for
an answer until they found one. They *had* to. Lois refused to
spend the rest of her life wondering, and maybe missing out on…
Well, they just had to keep looking.

They took their leave of Clark's parents shortly thereafter.
Martha and Jonathan both hugged Clark, then hugged Lois as well.
"Come back any time, honey," Martha told her. "You're always
welcome. If you need anything; if you need to talk -- you don't
even have to call. Remember that, okay? You aren't alone
anymore."

Lois wasn't able to answer. Whether she would ever take
advantage of the offer or not, the fact that it had been made so
sincerely rendered her incapable of speaking. So she simply
nodded, and then on impulse, hugged Martha. The older woman
hugged her back fiercely, and for a moment it felt like Mama's
arms.

Then Lois and Clark were lifting into the air, and after a last
wave, they turned toward Metropolis.

---

As they approached the city, Clark said rather diffidently,
"It's still fairly early… Would you like to stop by my place for
a while? We could watch a movie, or just talk…"

Lois wasn't really ready for their evening to end, so she
welcomed the suggestion. "Sure. "

They landed on Clark's balcony and within a few minutes, Clark
was making coffee while Lois sorted through his collection of
videos.

They watched one of the more recent action films, each of them
sprawled comfortably at opposite ends of his big, cushy couch.
When it ended, Clark said lazily, "I'm too relaxed to move. How
about you?"

From her corner of the couch, she laughed softly. "Yup, me
too."

He smiled across at her. "Rock, paper, scissors to see who has
to get up and put in a different movie?"

She laughed again. Shifting to face him more directly, she
opened her mouth to answer. And then sat up straight and stared.

"Clark, look!" On the shelf behind them, the globe was glowing
brightly.

Clark was in front of the shelf within seconds, followed almost
at once by Lois. He picked up the globe, cupping it in his hands
as Lois had the first time she'd seen it. This time, however, it
didn't display the two worlds. Instead, it began to hum softly,
although both of them could hear it without the use of any
special senses. 

There was a click, and then a sudden beam of light burst forth
from no discernible opening on the globe's surface. It played
over the wall between the bookshelves before coalescing into the
ghostly figure of a man. For a long moment it hung in space as
they stared at it in amazement.

"A… hologram, do you think? Or some sort of… projection?" Clark
whispered.
 
As if the figure had heard him, it -- he -- turned toward Clark.
The man was dressed in pants and a long tunic with elaborate
embroidery along the sleeves and hem. He wore a gold circlet
around his forehead. He appeared to be looking directly at Clark;
they could almost believe the figure could actually see them.

The man raised his right hand, palm upward, then brought it up
to touch his chest over his heart. "Greetings, my son." Clark
almost dropped the globe, and the image flickered wildly for a
moment. The recording, interrupted, resumed. "… you from the
doomed planet Krypton."

With a small, formal bow, the man turned toward Lois, and again,
he appeared to be looking directly at her. With the same gesture
of upraised hand to heart, he said, "Greetings, my daughter."

Lois groped for the chair behind her and sat abruptly as her
hopes crashed down around her. She could feel Clark's anguish as
if it were her own. 

Dimly, through her distress she was aware that the figure
flickered again, then stabilized. The man spread his hands,
appearing to look at each of them in turn, and continued, "If you
are seeing this message, it means you have found one another -"

One of them -- Lois wasn't sure which -- made a low noise of
distress.

Abruptly, the globe died. 

She looked up, tears running down her face, in time to see Clark
set the now dark and silent globe on the nearest flat surface.
Without looking at her, he walked into his bedroom. From where
she sat, she watched him move to the window, where he stood and
stared out into the night, shoulders slumped in despair.

She had to go. But… where? She had nowhere to run to. Clark had
become her haven, but she couldn't go to him now -- couldn't run
to him, couldn't seek comfort in his arms.

He couldn't be her haven. Not anymore. The treacherous
attraction between them made it impossible. She couldn't be
expected to conquer it, to eradicate it, instantly upon learning
the truth, and it wasn't fair to Clark to expect him to do so,
either.
 
With one last glance at the man standing, head now bowed against
the glass in defeat, in the darkened bedroom, she turned toward
the door. Maybe if she flew, and flew, and flew, she could find a
way to change her mental picture of Clark from what her heart
desired… to that of her brother.

Within minutes, she was airborne.

Hours and hours later, as the sky was starting to lighten, she
glanced at the stars to orientate herself, then turned toward
home. On automatic pilot, she got ready for bed, crawled in, and
pulled the covers over her head. She'd thought she was cried out,
but once again, tears coursed down her cheeks.

She made no effort to suppress them.

-----

Lois arrived late at the Daily Planet on Monday morning, to find
that Clark had apparently just arrived, too. He'd obviously only
just sat down at his desk and turned on his computer; she heard
the familiar chime as it booted up. They greeted each other
quietly, but made no further effort to talk.

There was a gulf between them that hadn't been there before, and
neither of them knew how to cross it. They worked independently
on the Luthor story, each at their own desks. There was none of
the familiar bantering give-and-take, no comfortable side-by-side
tussle over proper grammar and spelling -- and any discussion
between them was subdued.

Around noon, Jimmy, passing them with an armload of computer
equipment, paused to ask, "What's up, guys?"

"Nothing." Clark said it without looking up from where he was
sitting.

"Nothing," Lois echoed, unable to keep her gaze from straying to
the down-bent head of her partner. Her… brother.

Jimmy was looking back and forth between them. "No, really. What
happened? Didja have a fight?"

"No." Again, Clark's answer was short and abrupt.

Lois just looked down at her desk.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not Clark's fault, is it,
handsome?" Unnoticed, Cat had approached them and was leaning on
the low wall that ran along one side of the two desks. "We all
know how difficult Lois is to get along with, don't we?"

Lois couldn't summon the energy to respond to the dig; it just
didn't seem to matter. So she was startled when Clark rose
abruptly to his feet.

"I'll thank you not to make unkind comments about my partner,"
he said brusquely. "Whether they are made *in* my hearing or out
of it," he added pointedly as all three of them stared at him -
Cat with shock, Jimmy with surprise, and Lois with wonder. He
continued in a stern voice totally at odds with his usual
easygoing manner, "Whatever you are choosing to assume, Lois is
without blame. I count myself fortunate to be able to work with
her, and I consider her a friend. Leave. Her. Alone." The last
was said with a quiet, almost deadly emphasis, and Jimmy actually
stepped back a pace.

Those closest to the little group had given up any pretense at
working.

In any other circumstances, the look on Cat's face would have
been amusing; as it was, Lois barely glanced at her. Cat looked
from Lois to Clark and then back at Lois again, and her murmured
apology actually sounded sincere. Lois nodded absently, her gaze
fixed on her partner.

He caught Lois's eye, and his expression softened considerably.
His voice was also soft. "I -- need to go out for a while. I'll be
back later, okay?"

Mutely, she nodded. She watched him all the way up the ramp and
through the stairway door, as those in his immediate path quickly
and self-consciously refocused on their work. She was still
gazing through the door as he gave up any pretense at normal
speed and zipped up the stairs.

She didn't notice when Cat, with a muttered excuse, turned and
headed toward her own desk.

"Uh, Lois… I…" Jimmy hesitated, and when she finally turned to
look at him, he shrugged helplessly and said, "…If you need
anything…" When she nodded absently, he turned and walked away.

-----

Clark didn't return before the end of the day.

By concentrating fiercely on the Luthor story, Lois was able to
block the events of the evening at Clark's place from her
thoughts -- mostly, anyway. She didn't get much written, but she
got through the day.

At one point, Perry asked her where Clark was.

"I don't know for sure, Chief," she answered. It was true,
mostly. She suspected that Clark might be flying aimlessly -- he
was more comfortable flying in the daytime than she was, for one
thing. And of course, he could fly as Superman.

And if Superman were needed, Clark would have a story when he
did get back. She might as well lay the groundwork for that. "I
think he was meeting a source… There might be a Superman story in
it," she added.

That was enough for Perry. "Good. Good," he boomed, and moved on
to motivate someone else.

As the afternoon wound down toward evening and people began to
leave for the day, Lois finally managed to write several coherent
paragraphs, and even jotted down a few ideas on finalizing the
story. She'd discuss them with Clark when she saw him.

When she saw him.

When she saw him, she'd just have to… to focus on the fact that
he was her partner and her friend -- and could never be anything
more. She just needed to be happy with what they had. And really,
he was exactly the sort of big brother she'd have wished for, if
it had occurred to her to wish for a brother while she was
growing up.

Her mouth quirked into a half smile. He'd defended her today
just the way she would have wished, if she'd ever needed a knight
in shining armor. She could almost imagine him defending her on
the playground in grade school. Or defending her from one of the
more vindictive groups of girls in high school. There had been a
small group of girls in her high school who had been less than
kind to some of their classmates, although Lois herself, focused
almost single-mindedly on journalism and not any sort of threat
to their popularity, hadn't come under their immediate fire. But
if she had…

Anyway, she'd just have to put that Mad Dog Lane stubbornness to
work and force herself to ignore any attraction she felt. It
probably wasn't really attraction, anyway. She was probably
confusing the heady feeling of true friendship, and a… familial
kinship with attraction in the first place. Hadn't she decided,
years ago, that she'd never be able to have a... relationship
with anyone? It was just one of those things. She'd just…
forgotten that for a while.

And Clark had gotten a little… confused, too.

They'd be all right. They had to be. The alternative, to lose
him entirely, wasn't acceptable. She wasn't going to give that
any consideration whatsoever.

---

As the daylight faded, the newsroom grew darker. There were
low-level emergency lights at intervals on the walls, and the
overhead lights were never actually turned off, just dimmed
automatically to their night settings each evening. Lois's desk
lamp cast a pool of light around her desk, but much of the rest
of the room was in shadow.

Normally, she found the solitude of the newsroom after hours
conducive to writing, but tonight, she found herself focusing
less on the story -- and more on her partner -- than she liked.
As she wondered for perhaps the hundredth time where, exactly,
Clark might be, she heard the elevator as one of the cars began
to climb toward the newsroom level.

She didn't need to look through the doors; somehow, she just
knew it was Clark. She watched as he stepped out, and without
pausing, made his way down the ramp.

"Hi." He spoke softly.

"Hi," she replied, meeting his eyes.

"I thought you might still be here," he continued.

"Yeah… I've been trying to work some more on this story." She
needed -- *they* needed -- to get past this awkwardness and focus
on this story. So she added, "Clark, I think we should go out to
EPRAD tonight."

"Uh…"

"…It's not so dangerous, really," she continued, pleased at how
brisk and… professional she sounded. "We wouldn't even have to
break and enter, you know."

He seemed to be taking his cues from her. Good. In no time,
they'd be back to the way they'd been… before… Her thoughts
faltered for a moment, but fortunately, he spoke.

"We should also… stop by Luthor Towers -- maybe Superman should
do that -- and check on him…"

"Have you been doing that?" she asked.

"Yeah -- when I leave work, sometimes. It's dark, and no one
will see me. I've been… looking and listening. I haven't heard
much, but maybe we could set up a recorder…"

Really, they thought so much alike that it was almost uncanny.
With a more genuine smile, she told him, "I'm ahead of you,
there, partner. I put a recorder up there Thursday night --
before the launch." As he quirked an eyebrow at her, she
continued slightly defensively, "Well, I couldn't *tell* you
that, you know, because neither of us knew about… each other
then, did we?"

He laughed. It was a small laugh, but it was genuine.

She felt some of the tension leave her. They'd be all right; it
would just take a while.

-----

It didn't take much arm-twisting to convince Clark they should
stop by EPRAD to… see what they could see. He'd probably have
been harder to convince if she didn't share both his abilities
and his secret. As it was, he'd agreed that they might not even
have to go inside.

"Should we swing past Luthor's place first?" he asked as they
went up to the Daily Planet's roof.

"Well, if he's there, we'll have a recording of anything he's
said…" She paused for a moment, thinking. "I'd say let's go see
if Antoinette Baines -- nee Luthor -- is working late at EPRAD
tonight, first. Then go listen in on him."

"How good is your recorder, though?" Clark asked her. They'd
reached the roof, and without conscious thought, both rose into
the air and angled toward EPRAD.

She smiled. "It's a small, powerful voice-activated recorder.
With a transmitter. I… exploited a small design flaw in Luthor
Towers' construction, to position the transmitter in a location
that'll guarantee we get every word the man speaks."

He laughed. "Exploited a small design flaw, huh? So you located
the man's inner sanctum…"

"Yep." Lois laughed, too. "There's a new, inconspicuous little
hole in his office windowsill, and I've got a powerful
listen-through-the-wall microphone tucked in there. It's
voice-activated, so I'm recording only what he -- or anyone else
in the room -- says. And since his office is on the top floor of
Luthor Towers, the likelihood of someone actually *noticing* the
little hole, which is on the *outside*…"

"Where did you find something like that? No, wait -- don't tell
me. You had Jimmy find it for you, didn't you?"

"Yes -- I used it for one of my stories last year. I was just
wishing out loud one night, and a few days later he brought it to
me. Got it from some surveillance guy he knows, who has a shop
somewhere downtown. I remembered how well the transmitter worked,
and decided to try it on Luthor. I only put it up there Thursday
night, so I haven't checked yet to see what I -- we -- have."

By now, they were approaching the EPRAD complex.

They hovered above the main facility, scanning and listening.
There was very little activity -- a few white-coated individuals
worked at desks in one or two small labs, and what appeared to be
a skeleton crew sat in front of computer monitors in the main
command center. A lone janitor was collecting trash from rooms
along the main level.

They moved on to the shuttle hangar.

They scanned the building thoroughly; the offices were dark and
empty. The hangars were dimly lit, much the way the Daily Planet
building was lit at night. The only person in the building was a
night watchman making his rounds.

"Nothing. Well… Let's go see what my recorder has so far," Lois
suggested.

Clark agreed readily, and within minutes they were settling onto
the roof of Luthor Towers.

"Is it a tape recorder -- you know, with a removable cassette?"
Clark asked her as she retrieved it from where she'd secured it
under the low retaining wall that ran around the edge of the
roof. The device was wrapped in two large Ziploc bags to protect
it from the elements.

"No, it's digital," she answered somewhat absently, as she
checked the display. It showed that they had about four hours'
worth of data. "It's voice activated, and it has a time-stamp
function so we can follow a time line; Jimmy got it for me at the
same time he got the transmitter microphone."

"So we need to either listen to it here, or take a chance that
we won't miss anything…" Clark was scanning through the roof as
he spoke. "There's no activity down there; just a couple of
people sleeping -- different floors... Probably Luthor and his
staff." 

"Let's go ahead and listen to it at your place, if that's okay,"
Lois suggested. "Your apartment is more comfortable, and… Well, I
haven't bought groceries lately…"

Clark laughed. "That's okay -- I can make us coffee, and I've got
some of Mom's cookies…"

"Ooh! Yum! …Race ya!" Lois exclaimed, springing into the air.
She made it to Clark's balcony barely a second before he did, and
they entered the apartment together, laughing.

---

With cups of coffee and a plate of cookies on the coffee table
in front of them, they settled in to listen to the recording.

Lois pressed 'play.' An electronic voice announced the time of
recording.

<< Monday, 7:09 pm. >>

She pressed 'stop.' At Clark's look of inquiry, she said, "I put
it up there Thursday. But there's nothing recorded until
tonight?"

"Maybe he was out of town. We'll have to have Jimmy check on
Luthor's whereabouts over the weekend -- including Friday."

"Yeah. Hmmm… Think he was out of town to establish an alibi? I
was kinda hoping we'd hear his reaction to the shuttle's
successful… flight." She grinned at Clark. "Oh -- and to your
appearance." She smirked at him. "Wanna bet he wasn't too
happy?"

Clark laughed. "I imagine you're right."

Laughing, she pressed 'play.'

There was the sound of a door opening, followed immediately by
an impatient-sounding male voice. << …And get Antoinette over
here. Tonight. >> 

<< Yes, sir. >> The second voice was also male, slightly
accented.

The door opened again, then closed. There was the clink of
glassware, and then after a pause, a sudden swell of classical
music.

They listened for several minutes. When there was no other sound
besides the music, Lois glanced at Clark, eyebrow raised.
"Fast-forward a bit?"

He nodded.

She pressed the appropriate button, held it for a count of five,
and released it. The recording resumed with a woman and man
singing. She looked at Clark.

"La traviata." And at her look of inquiry, he elaborated, "He's
listening to La traviata -- you know, the opera? Italian -- by
Giuseppe Verdi?"

"Uh… I've heard of it, although I'm not familiar with the actual
story," she said. "Do you know it? Roughly how long is it?"

"Yes, I've heard it before. I don't know -- maybe three hours for
a live performance… I imagine a recording would be shorter."

"So if he's listening to the whole thing…" Lois mused. She
pressed the 'fast forward' button for a count of ten. The
recording resumed with a group of men singing. She looked at
Clark expectantly.

"Uh…" He listened for a moment. "I can't place it, exactly -
they're singing about bullfighters… I think act three. Anyway,
it's toward the middle of the story -- maybe the far side of
halfway through."

"Okay." She fast-forwarded the recording again. It resumed with
several people singing, then just the woman -- a slower, more
deliberate-sounding piece.

"This is the last part," Clark said, after listening for a few
moments.

Lois fast-forwarded the recording again, this time in short
bursts by pressing and immediately releasing the button, until
the music ceased. Then they both waited. After a short silence,
they heard a door open and close again.

"Think that's the end of that?" Lois asked.

The machine's electronic voice announced the time. << Monday,
10:40 pm. >>

"Yes," Clark said with a straight face.

She laughed and held one finger to her lips. "Hush, Kent -- and
listen."

They heard the sound of the door opening again.

<< …Lex, it's not my fault you couldn't get those idiots to see
it your way, so don't blame me. >> The speaker was a woman.
 
<< And what about that code? >> The speaker -- Lex, apparently --
spoke icily.

In contrast, the woman's reply was light. << Those reporters got
lucky; that bit of code should never have been found. >>

Lex's voice was terse. << You told me no one would find it, and
yet what do I find on the very morning I had reason to believe
the Congress of Nations was going to see it my way? The discovery
of an error in the shuttle code, splashed across the front page
of my morning paper! >>

<< They never would have discovered it if Platt hadn't set them
to sniffing around. >> The woman laughed. << I still can't
believe they even listened to him. >>

<< I don't see the humor in this, Antoinette. >> If possible,
Lex's voice was even colder.

<< Lex, loosen up. >> The woman -- Antoinette -- sounded
exasperated. << We win some, we lose some. >>

<< I had the anticipation of a very large sum of money to be
made with Space Station Luthor, my dear. A very, *very* large
sum. >>

<< So what, Lex? You already have more money than almost anyone
else in the world. >>

<< But with that money would come an even larger amount of
power, Antoinette. >>

<< And we all know how much you like power, brother dear. Well,
you'll think of another scheme; you always do. >> Antoinette
laughed lightly. << Too bad my little bomb didn't work, though… I
must say, however, that the appearance of this… Superman is
almost worth the disappointment. >> There was another laugh. <<
He's certainly… eye catching… >> Her voice dropped suggestively
as she spoke.

<< Ah, yes… >> Lex's voice was almost a drawl. << The appearance
of that flying freak was certainly unexpected. It's going to be a
challenge to find a way to neutralize it. >>

<< *Him*, Lex… And quite a him he is, too… >> This time, the
laugh was low and lingering.

<< He is not important at the moment, Antoinette. >> Lex sounded
angry. << The failure of my plan, however, is foremost in my
mind. You know I don't like failure in the people who work for
me, my dear. >>

Antoinette's voice turned deadly serious. << Don't you threaten
me, Lex -- I don't work for you. I work *with* you, and don't you
forget that. …Oh, the tales I could tell… >> 

Unexpectedly, Lex laughed.

<< I'm going back to EPRAD, >> Antoinette sounded calmer. <<
I've got an image to maintain, you know… Head of the program,
gravely concerned about the targeting of the space program by…
Hmmm, shall I suggest terrorists? >> There was another light
laugh. << Goodnight, brother dear. >>

A door closed; there was a short silence, and then a different
voice spoke. << Will there be anything more, sir? >> The speaker
was the man with the slight accent.

<< Ah, Asabi. Yes, as a matter of fact. You know how I feel
about failure, don't you? My darling sister seems to be… less
concerned about this latest setback than I'd like. I believe it
is time to… do something about that. >> In contrast to the words,
Lex's voice was quite light.
 
<< Shall I arrange an accident, sir? >>

<< Yes, Asabi. >> Lex's laugh was soft. << It's such a waste;
she showed such promise at the beginning of all this. I think…
something related to the space program; something quite dramatic
-- you understand? >>

<< Indeed, sir. Another failed sabotage? >>

There was another laugh. << Exactly. This time… the helicopter.
>>

"Clark!" Lois leaped to her feet even as Clark was rising to
his. "C'mon -- this was recorded -- what? A couple of hours ago? We
have to warn her!"

Clark spun into Superman as she finished speaking, and headed
through the bedroom at a jog, with her on his heels. As they both
rose off the balcony, he asked grimly, "Can you call the police?
Ask for Bill Henderson; tell him what we heard!"

Hanging in the air with him, she pulled her cell phone from her
jacket pocket. "Go! I'll call them and meet you there!"

As she spoke, they both saw a flash of light, followed by the
sound of an explosion, from the general direction of EPRAD.

"Oh, God. Go, Clark!" Even as she finished speaking, he was
gone.

She made the call, which took only seconds but felt like hours,
and then headed at full speed for EPRAD.

She knew as she got close that they were too late. The wreckage
of a helicopter -- the blades were mangled but still recognizable
- was engulfed in flames. It had come down on one of EPRAD's
mobile refueling trucks, and the resultant spill kept reigniting
almost as soon as Superman, who was hovering above the wreck,
would put it out. Two EPRAD emergency vehicles were parked
nearby, and a few small figures plied water hoses. As she
watched, Superman directed a stream of frozen air at the flaming
fuel. The flames died, but then flared up again almost
immediately.

She could hear sirens without the use of any special ability;
fire fighters and the police would arrive momentarily.

She moved back from the edge of the building on which she'd
landed, then turned and descended along the far wall. She could
claim she'd been alerted by one of her sources, but she'd better
be down on the ground as if she'd approached by cab.

If the tape were to be believed, Luthor had killed his own
sister. Maybe not by his own hand, but certainly by his order.
This particular dragon was getting bolder -- or more desperate.
And it was up to her and Clark to stop him.

-----

Several hours later, Lois and Clark sat in Bill Henderson's
office at police headquarters. Superman had talked to him at the
scene, and had then referred him to Lois and Clark.

In the presence of the two men, Lois had faked a call to Clark
on her cell phone. Speaking to Clark's answering machine, she'd
asked 'Clark' if he'd had any luck finding out anything from
their sources. Then, after a suitable pause where she 'listened'
to his reply -- keeping her back turned to Superman in case he had
trouble keeping a straight face -- she'd instructed Clark to meet
her at Henderson's office.

Turning back to the men, she'd pocketed her cell phone and
stated briskly that she was ready to go. Superman had taken his
leave with a small, formal nod to her and Henderson, and had
lifted into the air.

"Good thing he's on our side," Henderson had commented gruffly.
"Restores my faith in human nature -- at least a little."
Considering what Bill Henderson saw in the normal course of his
job, that had been a pretty powerful endorsement.

Lois had accepted his offer of a lift to the police station, and
they'd met Clark in the front lobby.

Now they sat listening to the end of the recording.

<< Shall I arrange an accident, sir? >>

<< Yes, Asabi. It's such a waste; she showed such promise at the
beginning of all this. I think… something related to the space
program; something quite dramatic -- you understand? >>

<< Indeed, sir. Another failed sabotage? >>

<< Exactly. This time… the helicopter. >>

Lois pressed the 'stop' button.

Henderson stirred in his chair. "Is that everything?"

"There's a bit more… We haven't listened to it yet. When we
heard… what he said about the helicopter… Well, Superman was
listening to the recording with us, and he instantly headed
toward EPRAD to warn Ms. Baines…" She pressed the 'play' button.

The electronic voice gave the time. << Monday, 11:45 pm. >>

"We were listening to this just after midnight," Clark
commented.

Henderson nodded, holding up his hand to stop them saying
anything else.

Lex spoke matter-of-factly. << What have you to report, Asabi?
>> 

<< As you instructed, sir. The helicopter Mrs. Baines travels in
will shortly experience an unfortunate and catastrophic engine
failure. >>

<< Excellent. I shall be distraught, of course. >>

<< Will there be anything else, Mr. Luthor? >>

<< No, thank you, Asabi. That will be all for the moment. >>

<< Goodnight, sir. >>

Over the faint sound of a door closing, there was a soft,
satisfied laugh.

They listened, but there was nothing else. After a moment, the
recording shut off automatically.

Henderson sighed, running his hand through his hair. "None of
this is admissible, of course."

"But -"

"Look, Lane -- you know it's him. I know it's him. We've had our
suspicions about the guy for a while now, but nothing sticks to
him. This is an illegal recording. You already know all this,
Lois. Even if it saw the light of day, a good lawyer could easily
suppress it." He held up his hand again as she started to speak.
"No judge will issue a search warrant based on this. You need to
find me proof."

"Superman said it was clearly sabotage," she said stubbornly.
"He told you he saw evidence of engine tampering…"

"And I believe him. I believed him even *before* I heard this
tape," Henderson replied. "But we're still stuck." 

He looked at each of them in turn. "Kent. Lane. Find me proof.
Get your sources talking; get me a name. But be careful. This guy
Luthor is slippery -- and he's dangerous. He's just killed his own
sister -- had her killed, anyway. If you can find out who
sabotaged that helicopter… If it was some gun-for-hire, whoever
it is'll likely talk. Maybe it was this Asabi guy. Chances are
good he'll talk if it's his neck. But we need some kind of proof.
A reason to haul the guy in for questioning. Get me whoever this
was and we've probably got Luthor. Unless he's also disposed of
whoever it was that tampered with that helicopter."

"What about the other information we have?" Clark asked.

"It's a good start -- but I want this guy nailed to the wall so
tightly he'll never get loose. We're looking, too, you know. I've
got a couple of my most trusted guys on this, and they're talking
to no one but me." Henderson flipped through the documents Clark
had brought with him. "This is great stuff, but I want to hold
off on any search warrants on these companies until we see if we
can get the guy who did the sabotage. I don't want to tip our
hand until we can nail Luthor on this entire thing -- the
sabotage, the money involved, and this murder. Probably more than
one; your Dr. Platt was almost certainly another of Luthor's
victims."

Clark rose to his feet, and offered Henderson his hand. "Thanks,
Bill. We'll keep working on this."

Lois had also risen to her feet. "We'll get him, Bill."

"If anyone can find the dirt on this guy, it's you two,"
Henderson replied. "And you've apparently got Superman helping
you. He's a pretty powerful asset, I'd say."

"Yeah. He's been invaluable so far," Lois said with a smile.
"C'mon, Clark -- we've got a lot to do." 

They left Henderson's office together, and, conscious of
possible witnesses, hailed a cab instead of flying back to the
Daily Planet.

-----

They spent part of the next morning contacting sources and
asking questions -- getting names of possible for-hire criminals
who might take on a contract hit. And from the discouragingly
long list, they had to verify who was incarcerated and who was
free; who was known to be in the Metropolis area and who was
documented to be elsewhere. Even with Jimmy's help, it would be a
slow process with no guarantee of success.

Midway through the morning, they heard a bulletin from the
police radio in the command center, reporting that there was a
robbery in progress at one of the downtown First Bank of
Metropolis branches. 

Lois and Clark were sitting side by side at his desk, working on
their list of suspects. Lois dropped her pencil on the desk,
stretched slightly, and glanced at Clark as he pushed back his
chair, ready to stand up. "I need some good coffee, Clark," she
commented around a pretty realistic yawn. "Would you get me a
Metropolis Coffee -- Double Mocha Latte? From our usual place?
They know how I like it there." 

The Metropolis Coffee Company shop in question was conveniently
located close to the bank branch currently in need of Superman's
help, so if her partner got a story out of it, no one would think
twice about it.

With a grin, he agreed cheerfully and headed up the ramp. Lois
picked up her pencil and returned to her work, waiting -- and
within a few minutes she heard him from the roof. "Nice touch,
partner -- if it takes a while to get back with your coffee, it'll
be because I just happened to be on the spot for a Superman
story." She had to stifle a grin; it was a good thing she had her
head down, ostensibly concentrating on the papers in front of
her.

Within moments of Clark's comment, Perry bellowed from his
office doorway, "Edmunds! Jenner! Get over to the Hayes Street
branch of the First Bank of Metropolis; there's a robbery in
progress! Hustle!"

As Edmunds and Jenner hurried for the elevator, Lois casually
leaned back and gazed at the ceiling, tapping her pencil against
her lip as if in thought, and looked through the floors above the
newsroom. As she had thought, Clark was gone. He probably hadn't
heard Perry's shout; he would have been concentrating on the
unfolding events at the bank.

With Superman involved, Edmunds and Jenner were likely to arrive
as the drama ended; standoffs ended pretty quickly when he was
around to help. So… should Clark worry about not being seen at
the bank branch as himself? If he were to return with a Superman
story, but Edmunds and Jenner didn't see him at the bank… Or was
she being too cautious?

How to warn him? She couldn't very well call him on his cell
phone. Maybe… She looked back down at the desk and focused on a
mental picture of Clark's face. < Clark? > She waited.

Nothing. She shut her eyes and blanked her mind further,
blocking out as much of the newsroom noise as she could, and
thought of Clark. No -- better make it Superman.

Still nothing. Well, maybe she was only transmitting, not
receiving. With her eyes still closed, she concentrated on
sending him a message. < Clark, Edmunds and Jenner will be there.
Be careful. Let them see Clark if you can. >

"Lois?"

She yelped and almost fell out of her chair as Jimmy's voice
sounded practically in her ear.

"Jimmy! Give me a heart attack, why don't you?!" she snapped,
more Mad Dog Lane than she'd been in quite a while. Her heart was
actually pounding; not a particularly pleasant sensation.

He stepped back, hands raised placatingly. "Sorry, Lois. Really
- I spoke to you once and you didn't hear me; I wasn't sure if
you were okay or not. *Are* you all right?"

"Uh, yeah. I…" She heard Clark's heartbeat just before he
stepped through the stairwell door, coffees in hand. "I just need
my coffee," she said with relief. Saved by Superman! Or more
precisely, Clark -- which was even better. She smiled at him as he
approached, and he winked at her as he handed over her coffee.

"Here you are, partner! Knock some of that back and wake up;
we've got a lot of work to do," he said teasingly. < Better than
Superman? >

The question flashed through her mind as he sat down beside her,
and she had to work hard not to react. Had he just…?

It was a good thing he kept talking; it took her a minute to
regain her equilibrium. "Guess what happened while I was getting
coffee?" he asked cheerfully. "A bank robbery at that branch near
'our' Metropolis Coffee shop. Superman stopped it, and I got a
quick interview."

"Cool! The Chief sent Edmunds and Jenner over there when it came
over on the scanner." Jimmy glanced at his watch. "But I'll bet
they're not even there yet. Man, that is so cool -- so you got to
meet Superman, huh? We're -- Metropolis is -- pretty lucky, right,
guys? If he wasn't around, that bank robbery might still be going
on. But that dude just zips in and saves the day." He shook his
head admiringly. "And it's all over already if you got to talk to
him, right? That was like, what? Maybe twenty minutes, tops?"

As Clark laughed, Lois suppressed her smirk with a small amount
of difficulty. Really, she had to get a handle on her tendency to
react that way when people praised Superman to, well… Superman.
Grinning like an idiot every time the man was mentioned would
make her look like a brainless groupie with a crush the size of…
Kansas. She fought an increasing urge to laugh.

< Kansas, huh? > The thought rolled through her mind on a tide
of laughter.

She almost dropped the coffee cup.

"Whoa, there, partner -" Clark reached over and steadied her
hand. "You must be more tired than you thought, huh?"

< Nice save. > He didn't react to the thought -- no smile, no nod
or wink. So… she wasn't transmitting? This was so confusing, and
-

"Oh! Guys!" Jimmy snapped his fingers and almost dropped a
document he had tucked under his arm. "I got distracted… Sorry
about that! I came over to tell you -- you won't believe what I
found!" He stopped and glanced around. "Uh… that is, I've got
some information…" As Lois and Clark looked at him inquiringly,
he said much more quietly, "Um. It's pretty… sensitive…"

Clark rose to his feet. "C'mon, Jim -- let's go talk in one of
the conference rooms." He pulled Lois's chair back for her as she
rose, and she flashed him a quick smile. 

They had barely closed the conference room door behind them when
Jimmy burst into speech. He waved the papers in the air. "You
won't believe this, guys! I went back to the EPRAD website… I was
going to see if I could find any more code, you know? Well, I
didn't find any good stuff to explore -- well, nothing interesting
in the way of computer code, anyway… Except… So then while I was
wandering around in their computers, I got into a pretty secure
area, and…" He stopped and glanced out into the newsroom. No one
was paying them any attention; the conference rooms were used
regularly by many of the Planet's reporters, and frequently by
Lois and Clark. There was nothing unusual about their presence
there. "Um, do you think we should pull the blinds? In case, you
know…"

Lois huffed impatiently as Clark smothered a laugh beside her.
Elbowing him, she said briskly, "Jimmy, no one is looking this
way. No one out there reads lips. No one out there has bugged
this room. Now, give!"

"Well…" He set the papers on the table, then rushed into speech.
"I found Antoinette Baines' files. Her *personal* files. Not
like… financial stuff or taxes or anything like that… It's all
stuff she put in there. Like a… like a diary, kinda. A 'just in
case something happens to me' sort of thing. There're files
outlining the whole sabotage program… Can I call it a program?
Anyway, I couldn't believe it! She has loads of information -
it's all in encrypted files, of course, but still! Right there in
EPRAD's main system… Where anybody could get at it! Well, anybody
with a good decryption program. I've got a couple I use pretty
regularly… One of 'em is just ace, man. She was using a pretty
good level of encryption, but I cracked it anyway…" He ran out of
breath.

"Jimmy, slow down!" Lois exclaimed, waving him to a chair. "Now,
say it again-"

"Are you saying you've got solid proof of the sabotage?" Clark
asked at nearly the same moment.

Jimmy dropped into the chair Lois had indicated, but he was so
excited he was bouncing in it like a child waiting to be excused
at the end of a meal. "Well, almost! Here, look -" He slid the
papers toward them. "She says here that she's got a safety
deposit box at a First Bank of Metropolis branch -- someplace in
the suburbs; she says which branch it is -- where she's got all
kinds of proof of sabotage, including what, and who, and when,
and all that. She's got it all listed here, kinda in time order.
She names -" He glanced around the room again and lowered his
voice. "…She names Lex Luthor as the mastermind, and she's got
dates and times -- and recordings -- of their meetings. And she
lists a guy called John Black who she says Lex Luthor hired to
kill Dr. Platt…" He ran out of breath again.

"John Black? He's on our list, Clark!" Lois told him urgently.

"We need to get this to Bill Henderson." Clark was reading the
document over her shoulder. "I think -- hope -- this is what he's
looking for. He can probably get a search warrant for the safety
deposit box, and it sounds like we'll find our proof inside it."

"Do you think there's any way of us getting a look at it first?"
Lois asked without much hope. "I mean… This is the story of the
century, Clark! Well, almost, anyway. Do you think we can get in
there somehow?"

"Not legally, Lois."

"How about…" She hesitated. It wouldn't be a good idea to refer
to Superman's -- or anyone else's -- special abilities in Jimmy's
presence.

Clark understood what she wanted to ask. "I don't think so,
Lois. I think we need to do this as… legally as possible. We
don't want to give Luthor any possible way to wiggle out of any
of this."

She sighed. "What a pain. Okay, fine -- but Bill better give us
the absolute exclusive, Clark."

Jimmy had been looking back and forth between them expectantly;
now she turned to him and said, "Jimmy, that was excellent -- no,
*outstanding* work! You are a hacker of the first order!"

She watched interestedly as the young man blushed and gulped
nervously at the same time, then took pity on him as Clark
chuckled next to her.

"Seriously, Jimmy… That was great work. And don't worry --
you'll be completely anonymous and protected, as we protect all
of our confidential sources. But would you like to be listed as a
special contributor for this article? Share the byline? It's
gonna be a killer article," she added without a hint of conceit.

Clark's chuckle turned into outright laughter as Jimmy gaped at
her. Lois 'Mad Dog' Lane offering to share a byline was akin to a
complete solar eclipse -- so rare that most people hadn't -- and
likely wouldn't -- ever see it.

"Uh. Uh… Yeah. Gosh, thanks! You really mean it?" Jimmy
stammered.

Now Lois laughed, too. "Yes, Jimmy. I really mean it. We'll get
Henderson onto this stuff, extract his promise that it's our
exclusive, and finish the story. Stay within reach by cell or
email, okay? When we get the 'go' on this, we'll have you help us
write it."

After stammering his thanks multiple times, then making it as
far as the door, only to turn back and thank her -- them -- once
again, Jimmy finally left the room. He still looked dazed; Lois
glanced up at Clark, who'd casually and unconsciously draped an
arm across her shoulders as they sat there watching Jimmy leave.

He smiled at her; at the same moment they both remembered their…
other problem. Clark moved away from her, slumping back in his
chair with a sigh. "I hate this… having to watch how I treat
you," he muttered. "If only…"

"Yeah." The lightness of the moment was completely gone.

With a determined effort, he straightened up and smiled at her.
"Lois, you did good. That was very generous, to offer to share
our byline with Jimmy."

"He deserves it, Clark," she said seriously, forcing herself to
think only of their work. "Let's get this stuff to Henderson
right away, okay?"

He stood and pulled out her chair for her. "Let's fly," he said
with a straight face, and they exited the room laughing.

-----

They delivered the document to Henderson, who lifted an eyebrow
in enquiry after he'd glanced over it briefly. "And how do we
explain where this came from?" he asked.

As Lois and Clark looked at each other, Henderson sighed. "I
don't mean I don't appreciate this, people. This is dynamite, and
I've got a judge standing by who'll issue a search warrant for
this safety deposit box so fast it'll make your head spin. *But*
-- and that's a big one -- our girl didn't leave this lying
around, I'm sure."

He leaned back in his chair. "I'm open to suggestions."

"Um. I don't suppose 'we found it' is good enough?" Lois asked.

Henderson actually smiled. Lois blinked. Usually the man kept
the straightest face she'd ever seen, even when he was joking.

She glanced at Clark. "Any ideas, Clark?"

"Well…" he said slowly, "She left this document in EPRAD's main
system, according to our source. Not in her private computer…
So…"

The man was a genius. "Yes, Bill! Sure, it was encrypted, but it
was out there in the public forum, if you will…" She ignored the
raised eyebrow and hurried on. "No, really! She died on EPRAD's
property, and that document was in their main computer system.
Companies have access to their employees' email and stuff like
that; surely they have legal access to anything she put in their
system in the line of her work? And since her death was
suspicious, it's not like they're not gonna search through
everything she left behind for clues, right? And she obviously
wanted someone to find this and read it; why else put it there?
She -"

Henderson held up both hands. "All right, all right, Lane.
You've got me convinced." He shook his head, and his mouth
quirked in another half smile. "Gimme…" He looked at the clock on
his desk. "…about an hour and I'll have a search warrant. I
imagine you want to be present when we crack the box?"

"Yes!" They said it in unison, and Lois experienced another
first when Henderson laughed out loud.

"Okay. Meet me back here at 5 pm." Henderson was already
reaching for the phone. As Clark held the office door for her,
they heard Henderson say, "Harry? Bill Henderson. How fast can
you get me a search warrant…?"

---

Outside the police station, Lois had to concentrate to keep from
floating off the ground. Laughing, she turned to Clark.

"Yeah -- me, too," he said, smiling.

His words wiped the smile from her face, and she stared at him.
"Clark, I didn't even say anything yet. But you answered me
anyway."

He stared back at her, his own smile fading. "Yes…"

"Clark, did you hear me earlier, while you were at the bank?"
she demanded.

He frowned. "Hear you? What do you mean? Like… just now?"

She grabbed his hand and tugged him across the street to one of
the benches in the small shady park just down the block from the
police station. It wasn't a patch on Centennial Park, but it was
a pleasant little place all the same. "Clark, I was… *thinking*
at you while you were at the bank -- while Superman was at the
bank."

He shook his head. "Maybe I was too busy, Lois. I didn't hear
anything. Or should I say, I didn't 'receive' anything from
you."

"But… what about the sleepy-here's-your-coffee thing?" she
asked. "And the 'better than Superman' thing? And the Kansas
thing?" She flung her hands out, exasperated. "I *know* you
thought those at me. I got 'em, Clark. But…" She slumped on the
bench. "Maybe I can't send you anything. Just receive. I don't
think you… 'heard' my 'nice save' comment either, did you?"

Bemused, he ticked the items off on his fingers. "Well, let's
see… I did pick up your relief to see me and your 'tired' thing
with Jimmy when I came through the door. I heard your thought
about Clark being better than Superman -- thank you for that, by
the way, Lois," he added warmly. "And I got your Kansas-sized
crush comment, too. That was pretty funny. Lois Lane, groupie? I
can't see it."

"But -"

"You have to be sending me stuff, Lois. Otherwise, how could I
reply to your 'I'm tired' thought -- or your 'Clark is better'
thought -- unless I picked up what you were thinking?"

She shook her head. "I don't understand how this works. It seems
to happen randomly."

"I don't know. Maybe we have to be together for it to work."

For some time they sat quietly, each immersed in their own
thoughts, idly watching the city around them.

After a while, Clark said, "I also picked up your
inscription-or-instructions thing, in Kansas, with the ship." He
grinned at her. "That was pretty funny, too. It'd be just our
luck if the inscription *was* just ship-opening instructions, or
something like… 'please change this baby's diaper,' or…"

She began laughing helplessly. "Clark!"

He laughed with her. And then stopped abruptly.

Her own laughter died as he grabbed her hands and leaned in
close. "That's it, Lois! Every time I've picked up something from
you, or sent some thought to you, we've been happy. Laughing or
smiling. That's it! That's the key! I'm almost sure of it!"

She stared at him in wonder, and he laughed again. "That's it,
Lois! < And I think we can learn to control it. Like everything
else we can do. >

"So…" she breathed, beginning to smile. < Another super power?
>

And when he nodded, she whispered, "We can really… Wow!"

"Yeah." He smiled at her, and she *felt* the waves of affection
rolling over her. It was at once the most wonderful and the most
terrible thing she'd ever felt. They just *couldn't* feel this
way about each other!

She shut her eyes tightly. "Clark…"

She felt his hands gripping hers hard -- hard enough to hurt if
she weren't invulnerable. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I -"

She opened her eyes, squared her shoulders, and stood up. He
released her hands. "C'mon, Kent. We've got work to do. Henderson
ought to have that warrant by now, don't you think?"

He was also on his feet. "Yeah." He sounded… relieved. And
disappointed. A curious mixture, but she knew exactly how it
felt.

"Let's go, then," she said briskly, and together they started
back toward police headquarters.

-----

The actual safety deposit box cracking was almost anticlimactic.
While Lois and Clark waited with the bank's tellers, the police
and the bank's security man supervised the bank manager as he
opened the locked box.

The contents were removed to a lockable attaché case and borne
away to Henderson's car. Lois and Clark rode back to the station
with him, which was a pretty weird experience since the back seat
was equipped with a cage. 

Once they'd settled in his office, Henderson paged quickly
through the documents while Lois and Clark waited more or less
patiently. The 'more' was on Clark's part and the 'less' was on
Lois's part; at one point, Clark quietly reached for her hand and
held it, which shouldn't have helped stop her fidgeting, but did.


Finally, Henderson spread the papers out on the desk, and the
three of them began to read. It was somewhat unusual for members
of the press to be allowed to examine potential evidence, but
Lois and Clark weren't exactly typical reporters, nor was Bill
Henderson a typical policeman.

"You helped break this story," he'd told them upon entering his
office. "Without some of the information you provided, we'd
surely still be spinning our wheels over this. And I want this
guy bad."

Antoinette Baines had indeed stockpiled ample proof of both her
and Lex Luthor's involvement in the space program sabotage. She
had listed who was in on it, who had masterminded the plan -- Lex
Luthor -- and what her own role had been.

"Here's something -- she describes how she got Dr. Platt
discredited. It was part of a plan to make him either step down
or get him fired, so she could take over." Lois handed the
document to Henderson.

Clark exclaimed a minute later, "Here's a handwritten message --
it's signed 'L' -- that instructs her to destroy all
correspondence related to… Here, I'll read it: 'Destroy all
correspondence related to our plan to sabotage the space program,
immediately. I wouldn't have thought I would have to remind you
of such precautions, Antoinette.' And -" He passed the document
to Henderson. "Could a handwriting expert analyze that? I'd be
willing to bet money that the author is Luthor."

"There are also several tapes -- apparently from surveillance
cameras. Let's see what they show." Henderson put the first of
the tapes into his office VCR, and they watched the grainy images
with interest.

After watching all three of the tapes Antoinette Baines had left
behind in the safety deposit box, Henderson allowed himself
another of those rare smiles. "She kept it all. And these tapes
will be admissible evidence, since they're from an overt, legal
surveillance system. I'd be willing to lay odds myself that she
was supposed to dispose of those tapes and instead chose to keep
them; Luthor obviously didn't suspect that."

The phone rang. Henderson picked it up, uttering a terse,
"Henderson." He listened for a moment, and then said, "Excellent.
Put him in interrogation room one and get George in there; I'll
be along shortly. Make sure you do everything by the book. We
don't want any procedural errors on this one."

He hit a button, ending the call, and then pressed another
button. "Harris, get Johansen for me, will you? Thanks." He
replaced the receiver and looked across at Lois and Clark. "My
men just picked up a guy called John Black."

"He's on Antoinette Baines' list," Clark said.
 
"He's got an extensive record; the word is that he's a hit man
who'll take just about any contract," Henderson replied.

The phone beeped and a tinny voice announced, << Bill,
Johansen's on line three. >> 

Henderson picked up the phone, glancing at his watch. "Johansen?
Where are you? …Good. Okay, it's a go. Yes. And Rod? By the book
at every step. Take only experienced men with you. Pick up the
manservant, too."

He hung up the phone again, leaned back in his chair, and
allowed himself still another smile. It was just as surprising as
the first one. "Now, we wait," he said. "I need to go talk to
this fellow, Black; can I offer you one of the conference rooms
while I'm doing that? Or do you want to wait here?" He didn't
mention the fact that he was trusting them to respect his office
privacy, nor anything about their promise not to break the story
until he gave the word. He'd worked with Lois long enough to know
that she was trustworthy, and that she would respect his request
as long as he respected her right to be the first on the story
once they did break it.

They opted to wait in Henderson's office. "I want to look at
those surveillance tapes again, Bill," Lois told him. "I'm sure
you'd rather we watched those in here."

"Help yourselves to coffee -- if you can stand police-issue
brew," Henderson merely said, and then stood and left the office,
closing the door behind him.

"Can't be any worse than the newsroom version at the end of the
day," Lois said.

---

Henderson returned about an hour later. Lois and Clark had made
use of the time by taking extensive notes on the contents of
Antoinette Baines' documents and the surveillance tapes for use
in their story; if all the pieces really did fall into place as
they hoped, they could well be writing at least the first part of
the story for the paper's morning edition.

They both looked up expectantly when he entered the office.

"Anything?" Lois asked hopefully.

"Well, John Black is *not* talking. We've dealt with him before,
and he's a regular clam. But… shortly after he was picked up, a
young man showed up here at headquarters with quite a tale. He's
- get this -- Black's kid brother. He's an airline mechanic -- and
the kid's singing like crazy. He has detailed information -
inside -- on how the helicopter sabotage was done, and he has the
name of the guy who hired his brother."

He sat down. "Apparently, Black brought him along on the meet
and introduced him to Luthor's man -- Asabi -- as a 'technical
consultant.' The kid didn't do the sabotage, but he provided a
working diagram of a helicopter engine and described some of the
ways such an engine could be tampered with. He says Black told
him this Asabi was a scriptwriter under contract to some foreign
movie studio. When the kid saw the news coverage of Baines'
crash, he panicked. Says he didn't know anyone was going to
actually use the information to sabotage a helicopter."

He shook his head wryly. "I think he's telling the truth. And
we've actually got the meet on surveillance camera -- from a gas
station across the street from the diner where they met. It
picked them up entering, then leaving, although the tape
quality's pretty poor at such a distance. But after the kid
brother scrammed, the other two came across the street, directly
into the camera's field of view, so we've got a nice, clear,
pretty little shot of this Asabi and Black together." 

"Black was taking quite a chance involving him, unless the
brother has a criminal record, too," Lois commented.

"No; he's clean. And yes, it was pretty sloppy of Black to have
a witness like that -- he must've thought that since the kid's his
brother he wouldn't tell. Black knows when to clam up, but he's
not real bright. I am surprised, however, that this Asabi fellow
didn't consider the kid a loose end."

"Maybe he *does*, but hasn't gotten around to doing anything
about it yet," Lois said darkly.

"Or perhaps Asabi takes his cues from Lex Luthor," Clark said.
"It seems like Luthor's getting more… careless."

"Well, we'll do what we can to keep the kid safe until this is
all over. Anyway, things have been moving fast since Black was
brought in… As well they should," Henderson added dryly. "I've
got my entire department working on various aspects of this
case."

"And Luthor?" Lois asked.

"Lex Luthor is under arrest. My guys picked him up without
incident at his residence. And because the man is so high
profile, we got an unprecedented rush on the preliminary
legalities -- we processed him through night court. Because of
the magnitude of his resources and the flight risk, as well as
the sheer number of charges, the judge is denying bail." 

Lois looked at Clark. They'd done it. "We've got him, Clark!"

He smiled at her. " 'Who's come to slay the dragon -- come to
watch him fall? Making arrows out of pointed words…' "

She smiled, recognizing the lines he was quoting.

"Dragon?" Henderson repeated, quirking an eyebrow. "An apt
description."

He leaned back in his chair. "My men also picked up the
manservant, Asabi. He's talking, too. I'm guessing he'll get some
sort of plea deal if he cooperates -- and he knows it. He's
giving us dates, and times, and names. More than we ever
suspected, as a matter of fact -- stuff entirely unrelated to the
space program. It turns out Luthor is probably the biggest crime
boss in the city. This guy Asabi's list includes corporate
espionage, insider trading, and other illegal forced takeover
tactics, and also money laundering, arms trafficking, and a
couple of unsolved homicides." He shook his head. "If even half
the stuff is true… Well, even in my wildest dreams I didn't
suspect quite this level of criminality."

He stood up, offering Lois his hand across the desk. As she
stood and shook it, he said, "Thanks, Lane. Good job." His mouth
quirking into a half smile, he added, "I'll look forward to a
series of articles, shall I? And possibly still another
journalism award, too?" 

She laughed as he turned toward Clark, who had also risen to his
feet. As the two men shook hands, Henderson said, "And thank you,
too, Kent. This guy's somebody we've been after for a long time."


"Our pleasure, Bill," Clark replied, smiling. "We're just as
happy about this as you are."

"Thanks for including us in the Baines thing, Henderson," Lois
said with a grin. "And who knows? Maybe we'll see you at the
Kerth awards this year."

"Get outta here, Lane. Go write your story. I've still got a lot
of work to do." 

She gave him a mock salute as she and Clark left the office. She
glanced back through the door in time to see Henderson shake his
head with a smile. "Lois Lane, dragon slayer. I like that," she
heard him murmur.

With a soft chuckle, Clark leaned toward her and whispered,
"Dragon Slayer Lane… think it'll catch on at the office?"

She laughed, tucking her hand into his bent arm and bumping
against him affectionately. "Well, the mental picture sure beats
that of Mad Dog's."

"C'mon, then, Dragon Slayer." He patted her hand with his free
one, and gestured toward the door. "Ready to write?"

"Lead on," she told him cheerfully.

It wasn't until they were settled in the cab, careening through
the streets of Metropolis in true downtown-cabbie-style that she
realized neither she nor Clark had felt uncomfortable with those
few minutes of physical closeness as they'd exited the police
station.	

They must be getting the hang of this whole sibling thing.

-----

They returned to the Daily Planet first.

When Lois called Perry at home to tell him about Luthor's
arrest, he assured her that he'd be back at the Planet, ready and
waiting, when they finished the story.

Lois also called Jimmy and asked him to meet them there, and the
three of them spent some time going over the information Lois and
Clark planned to put into the first article. Jimmy would also do
a sidebar about the space program and the shuttle, in addition to
having his name on the main story as a 'special contributor.' 

So it was almost midnight when Lois and Clark finally returned
to Clark's place. They'd decided to finish the story there, as
they both agreed his place was more comfortable.

They'd left Jimmy writing busily. He would turn his work in
directly to Perry, who was standing by now, holding one of the
presses. Lois knew he would spend at least the next hour or two
shuffling stories around to make room for theirs on the front
page. It didn't happen often, but he'd done it before in order to
break a big story in the Daily Planet's morning edition.

By the time they had the story written to their satisfaction,
another hour had passed.

Finally, Lois stood and stretched, yawning widely. She'd just
sent the story to Perry; now she closed down Clark's email
program and turned off his computer.

She was happy that this story was over -- Luthor deserved
whatever he got, and Henderson had assured them that they had
enough charges that he wouldn't be able to escape punishment.

Perry had already told them to take the morning off; considering
the lateness of the hour, it was nice to know she didn't have to
hurry home so she could get at least a couple hours of sleep.

She glanced at Clark, puttering around his kitchen. Did she look
as tired as he did? With the story finished, there wasn't the
distraction of work anymore. For a few hours, she'd even
forgotten about… that… for a while.

But she didn't want to leave yet. Maybe they could talk for a
while.

"Clark?" He was putting the finishing touches on two cups of hot
chocolate.

He glanced her way with a small smile. "What?"

"Where did you go -- you know, the nights we were working on Dr.
Platt's notes? And on that Friday night?"

He brought the two mugs into the living room, handed one to her,
and sat down a respectable distance away from her, at the other
end of the couch. "I heard things -- people who needed help. That
first night, it was a mugging. It was close by your place. I...
Well, it was an elderly woman; I needed to go help. I was lucky,
though -- I didn't need to think up some flimsy excuse. You were
nervous having me there, although you hid it well…"

She didn't argue the point; after all, he was perfectly correct.
She *had* been nervous, and she'd suspected, when she'd thought
back on that night, that he had known it. Curiously, she asked,
"Weren't you afraid you'd be exposed?"

He shrugged. "It's always been a tightrope for me, everywhere
I've been. In this case, I landed in an alley just behind them,
and moved up on them as if I'd been out walking -- basically, I
looked like any old Good Samaritan."

She laughed a little, and he smiled back before continuing.

"It was the same sort of thing with the next night we were
working together. A car accident; that was a bit trickier. I
couldn't do much -- I sort of… *helped* a mashed-in door fall off
its hinges, and I helped get the children out. Fortunately, there
were only minor injuries -- but I always worry about… you know,
fire… an exploding gas tank… something that will require me to do
something… obvious." 

"It's different now that you've got the suit, though…" Lois
observed. "You're more comfortable with Superman's role now,
aren't you? Now that you know the disguise works okay?"

"Yeah… I'm still getting used to it. It's getting easier to
remember to hold myself straighter, and to speak more formally
and in a deeper voice… I'm finally not worrying every single
moment that someone's going to recognize me. Instead…"

He paused, and she glanced over at him enquiringly. "Instead…?"

He flashed his brilliant smile at her. "Instead, I only worry
every *other* moment that someone will recognize me."

She laughed, as he'd obviously intended her to do.

---

For a while, they both sat and sipped hot chocolate. Clark had
turned on the TV to LNN, with the volume turned low. Neither of
them was really watching it; instead, both were immersed in their
own thoughts.

Gradually, though, Lois began to feel restless. She didn't want
to leave, but she was very… aware of Clark. No matter what she
tried to tell herself, it was… hard to force herself to ignore
how… *attractive* he was. When she was relaxed like this,
thinking her own thoughts as he lolled at the other end of the
couch, thinking his, she found it harder to tune out his
heartbeat, his breathing. And she was afraid she'd accidentally
stray into that mental off-limits area concerning him.

Edgily, she rose to her feet and wandered aimlessly around while
Clark, who had also risen to his feet, took their empty mugs into
the kitchen. Focusing on his movements as he washed the mugs and
put them away, she found herself in front of the globe.

She studied it. It was just a plain, featureless little silver
globe. Nothing striking about it. Nothing to indicate that this
little globe had sent all their hopes crashing down around them
only a few days ago.

She picked it up, moving slowly back toward the couch with it
cradled in her hands. It wasn't really very heavy, either. So
small, and so light -- yet it had managed to destroy her whole
world.

The globe began to glow.

She started to turn, intending to put it back, but more quickly
than last time, the ghostly man appeared. 

She couldn't remember if he'd started to speak immediately upon
appearing last time, but this time, he seemed to be waiting -
like before, almost as if he could see them. He turned to face
Clark, who was just now slowly leaving the kitchen and moving
toward her.

She looked away from the image, up into Clark's face, as he
joined her. His expression was grim, and he said softly, "I don't
know if I want to hear this again…"

She nodded, but before she could say anything, the man turned
fully toward Clark. Raising his right hand, palm upward, he
brought it up to touch his chest over his heart. "Greetings, my
son." 

The globe wobbled in Lois's grip and she sat down abruptly on
the edge of the couch. Clark instantly sat down next to her and
placed his hand under hers, helping her to hold it. With the
globe held steady, the image appeared to be standing in front of
them, in the middle of Clark's living room. It -- the man --
continued, "I speak to you from the doomed planet Krypton."

With a small, formal bow, the man turned toward Lois; again, he
seemed to be looking directly at her. Repeating the
upraised-hand-to-heart gesture, he said, "Greetings, my
daughter."

She didn't even realize that she'd leaned against Clark,
although she was dimly aware that his free arm had come around
her shoulders as if to steady her in the same manner his hand
helped steady the globe. All she was really aware of was that he
was a solid presence, a rock she might have to cling to when this
man -- this now-flickering image -- once again had his say.

The figure stabilized. The man spread his hands, appearing to
look at each of them in turn, and continued, "If you are seeing
this message, it means you have found one another -"

He bowed low, then turned and beckoned at a spot beyond them,
off to their left into a distance only he could see. As they
watched, a young woman, clothed in a long, exquisitely
embroidered gown, moved into view beside the man. Like him, she
wore a metallic circlet around her forehead.

She smiled at each of them in turn, and finished the man's
sentence. "…And are ready to fulfill your destiny." 

Clark glanced at Lois, and the pressure of his hand under hers
lessened slightly. The globe clicked, and the images flickered.
Clark again brought his hand up firmly under Lois's, and the
images brightened again.

Lois spared Clark a quick glance. "Do you think it needs both of
us?" she whispered. Before he could answer, the man spoke again.

Once again, he turned to face Clark fully, as if the recording
really was somehow attuned to him. "I am Jor-El, of the House of
El," the man said, and his voice acquired a more formal tone.
"You, my son, are Kal-El, son of Jor-El, prince of the House of
El."

As Lois and Clark gazed at the figures, the man's formal
demeanor seemed to falter slightly. "You, Kal-El, are the
culmination of a long and illustrious line of a most noble family
-- reaching back to the great Val-El, who set our glorious
civilization in motion. Your mother and I -" He drew the woman
beside him closer for a moment, and then continued -- "…have sent
you forth to the distant planet, third from Sul-El's golden star,
El diSol; the planet called Earth -- so like Krypton but for its
yellow sun -- in order to save your life. Our world, once-sound
and once-enduring Krypton, is disintegrating around us. Our
cities are in ruins; our citizens are dying. Within hours, our
once-great planet will implode. Your mother, Lara, and I have
determined that you will live, and one day accomplish great
things." 

He turned toward Lois, who was trembling in Clark's half-embrace
and struggling to hold the globe steady. Only Clark's hand, firm
under hers, felt real. This man… was Clark's father. And hers.
And the woman was…

The man's voice continued, breaking her train of thought. "You,
my daughter, are Zara Than-Ar, daughter of Than-Ar and princess
of the House of Ar. For years, our two houses, both of which have
produced great leaders of our civilization for generation upon
generation, dreamed of a match between them. A match to unite the
Houses of El and Ar. You, my daughter, were given in betrothal to
Kal-El upon your birth. Accordingly, you became my daughter, and
the right to wear the crest and the colors of the House of El
were bestowed upon you. The great sculptor Jhan-Ar himself,
brother to your father, gifted you with marriage bracelets of
unparalleled craftsmanship; incorporating the seal of the House
of El and the seal of the House of Ar within the Unending
Circle."

As Lois and Clark gaped at the man -- Jor-El -- he continued. His
formal manner had crumbled, and his voice suddenly seemed to
falter. "Even the mighty House of El is useless now. My children,
you were sent away from Krypton in the planet's very dying day.
We shall not be able to save ourselves; the task is too great and
the time is too short. We have modified two small exploratory
ships to carry you both to safety. We pray that our God, Rao,
will protect you." His voice strengthened again, and was filled
with resolve once more. He drew the woman -- Lara -- now softly
weeping, firmly against his side. "Rokyn dau amzeto orutoo Laraa
Bythgar El," he said softly, and embraced her. Then he turned to
them and continued, "Your mother inscribed a blessing on your
ship, Kal-El, and on that of your betrothed: Rokyn dau flezur
amzeto orutoo Kal-El. Rokyn dau flyzar amzeto orutoo Zara El. May
you live long, children of Rao."

The images faded, and once more the globe was dark.

For a breathless moment, it felt like the whole world stopped. 

Then Lois drew in a breath she hadn't realized she was holding,
and shifted to look up into his face. "Oh! Clark -- did you hear?
We're… he said we're *not*… You're *not* my brother! We're… It's
-"

Whatever she'd intended to say was cut off when he rose
abruptly, took the globe from her and dropped it on the couch,
and pulled her to her feet. "I heard." His voice was low and
rough, sending shivers over her scalp and down her spine. "And I
don't want to talk right now." He drew her into his arms as he
spoke, tunneling the fingers of one hand gently into her hair,
and tipped her face up to his as his other arm tugged her close.
She felt his breath feather over her lips. "I just want to..." 

His lips came down on hers, and sensation tumbled through her.
It was like riding an arrested avalanche as the urgent pressure
of his lips slowed, becoming a series of tender, soft caresses,
and it felt like he was… discovering her. Shiver after delicious
shiver cascaded over her as his lips moved over hers. It was
unlike anything she'd ever felt before. She gasped, pressing
closer to him, and as her lips parted he gently deepened the
kiss, arms tightening around her.

Everything she'd ever read or heard about kissing paled in
comparison to the real thing. She'd never been kissed at all,
much less like this, but it felt… Oh! Like… hot chocolate, and…
and *Clark*, and… flying, and Mama's laughter, and… every single
moment of happiness she'd ever, ever experienced, but all
happening at once. 

She responded without reserve, giving him full access to her
mouth -- and her soul. "Oh, Lois!" he whispered, lifting his mouth
from hers for an eternity as he swept her up in his arms and sat
down, cradling her in his lap. "I… need you closer." He kissed
her eyelids, her cheeks, her jaw, and then returned with a groan
to her mouth.

Without conscious thought, her hands were exploring his
shoulders and arms, fingers tunneling into his hair. She was
trembling in his arms, awash in delight. She thought dimly that
they might be floating, but maybe it just felt that way. 

He raised his mouth from hers again, resting his forehead
against hers as they both fought to catch their breaths. When his
hands came up to gently cup her face, she opened her eyes and
gazed straight into his soul. "I love you, Lois," he said softly,
solemnly. "With all my heart. I think I fell in love with you the
first time I saw you."

"And I love you," she whispered, recognizing it at last. She
loved him -- had loved him before she had known who he was.
Somehow, they'd managed to find each other, as Jor-El had said.
Somehow, they'd found their way, reached that state of grace.

She kissed him, and he kissed her back with love. And knowing he
loved her, what she'd felt before was a pale shadow of what she
felt now. 

---

A long, long time later, Lois lifted her head from his chest to
look up at him. "Clark?"

He kissed her gently. "Hmmm?" he murmured, and began placing
small kisses along her jaw.

"You never did tell me about that Friday, you know…" She
shivered. It was hard to think when he did that. "Where… mmmm…
did you go?' 

He chuckled, and she felt it rumble through his body where she
lay against him.

"Do you remember the morning both Jimmy and I came in wet and
muddy during that rainstorm?" he asked with a smile. 

"Um… Are you telling me you *weren't* the victim of a drive-by
splashing?"

This time he laughed outright. "Nope. It was another rescue. I
kind of messed up my suit; I could have kissed you -" He paused.
"I'll do it now," he whispered, and then did it so well that she
whimpered when he stopped. "Where was I?" he asked dazedly.

"Uh. You kissed me…" she managed to say fairly coherently.

"Oh, yeah. I could have kissed you when you gave me that out by
badgering Jimmy…"

She began to sit up, but his arms tightened around her. She had
to make do with propping herself up on his chest. "Badgering?! I
was *not* badgering! I was merely… offering sound advice," she
said primly.

"I'll stick with badgering," he teased her, and as she opened
her mouth to argue he swooped in and kissed her again.

It was quite some time before they resumed the conversation.

"So… about the rainstorm? And where you went that Friday?" she
finally reminded him.

"Ah, yes… Well, we went down to the lockers. I was lucky -- one
application of freezing breath, and I was able to remove most of
the mud. But your comment about a change of clothes stuck with
me. I thought and thought about it…"

He shifted, settling them more comfortably into the cushions,
and continued. "The one thing that kept me moving, during those
years after college, was my fear of discovery. When I met you, I
knew I was done traveling. I also knew, however, that it would be
hard to conceal my abilities if someone was in need, and it would
be impossible to ignore a cry for help. It was a frustrating
dilemma." 

He smiled at her. "But what you'd said -- a change of clothes -
started me thinking about adopting some kind of disguise. So I
talked to my mom; I was originally thinking of a mask, you know.
But she made a comment about unmasking -- she said it might be
better if people thought I had nothing to hide. If I left my face
bare -- no mask, no glasses -- and changed my hair, stuff like
that… But I wondered…"

"…If it would it be enough to keep Clark Kent secret?" she asked
as he trailed off. When he nodded, she continued, "It does,
though -- because people can't imagine that the brightly dressed
flying man could be some regular guy with a job and bills and
stuff. You're hiding in plain sight."

He laughed. "Yep."

"So that Friday…" she prompted.

He obligingly continued. "…So that Friday, I went home for
dinner -- and a costume fitting. It took a while, but we finally
came up with the… with Superman's suit. It kind of all came
together when Mom brought out the stuff she'd saved. She said
the… I guess we need to call them the family colors, huh? Anyway,
she said the bright colors, the cape, and my actual abilities
would distract people enough that they might not focus a lot on
my face…"

"Oh, definitely," Lois said, not bothering to suppress her grin.
"I suspect that *very* few women looked at your face for very
long at all…"

Even after the fairly intense activities of the past several
hours, he still blushed and squirmed, which threatened to
dislodge her from her position. Laughing, she levitated slightly
and then resettled against him as he tugged her back down.

"And -" Her voice caught as he threaded his fingers into her
hair again, tipping her face up to his. "…the final touch was…"
He began to kiss her gently, and she moaned softly. "…when she
added the 'S' to the chest?" It was hard to concentrate, but she
managed to finish the question.

"Hmmmm?" he murmured. In the same moment, he shifted so that she
was partly under him, and began to kiss her in earnest.

She forgot her question, forgot the whole conversation, forgot
everything except Clark and the feel of his lips on hers, and the
sensations he was invoking in her.

-----

By the end of the following day, Superman had put in several
appearances across the city, helping out at various emergencies.
There were two fairly serious car accidents, and, early in the
day, an explosion and fire relatively close to the downtown
area.

Lois heard the explosion at the same time Clark did. As he began
to rise, tugging at his tie, she suddenly and helpfully
remembered a source he was late in meeting. "Clark! It's -" She
glanced at super speed at the clock across the newsroom. "…twenty
after ten! What about that source!? Hustle, partner! I'll meet
you for lunch and we can compare notes. Now go!"

He went.

Tipping her head back and staring at the ceiling, she faked a
stretch and watched through the floors as he spun into the suit -
a sight she'd probably never get tired of watching -- and launched
himself into the air. He hovered briefly, scanning the city, and
then said, "Looks like maybe a gas explosion -- I can smell it.
Near eastside. Fire engines on the way already. Make another one
of those brilliant excuses and meet me there; I'll give you a
Superman exclusive." She was barely able to suppress her smile as
he added that last bit.

She glanced around. Perry stood in his office doorway, giving
some kind of instructions to Jimmy.

Okay… better make this look believable. If she was going to say
a source called her, she'd better get a phone call first. Picking
up her phone, she dialed the ringback number and hung up; within
seconds her phone rang. She picked it up and said briskly to the
dial tone, "Lois Lane. …What? Where? Okay, thanks." 

She hung up, stood, and headed for Perry. As soon as she was
within earshot, she began, "Perry! One of my sources called -- big
fire, near eastside -- possible arson… I need Jimmy and a good
camera."

The Daily Planet had two of the big, new Nikon cameras equipped
with Kodak's Digital Camera System. She'd heard each camera
carried a five-digit price tag. But with one of those cameras -
if she took Jimmy with her -- she could walk back into the Planet
with, essentially, a completed and ready-to-print story, pictures
and all. Perry would be ecstatic. Dramatic fire scenes, Superman
in action, a well-written story… And just in case he'd noticed
Clark's longer-than-usual absence today, this would nicely
redirect his attention.

"Where's Clark?" Perry asked, while Jimmy began fidgeting in
excitement like a puppy promised a walk.

She waved her hand airily. "Meeting the same source who called
me. I already left a message for Clark -- he'll meet us there.
C'mon, Perry! We're wasting time! Your City Desk guys are out on
assignments; give me Jimmy and one of those digital cameras, and
I'll have a story -- and pictures -- for you for the evening
edition!" 

She was already turning away as she said it. Perry wouldn't turn
down a potential story. "Grab that Nikon camera -- the Kodak
Digital one -- and let's go, Jimmy!" she snapped, over Perry's
"You can't argue with that woman -"

"Not when I'm right," she called over her shoulder with a cheeky
grin. She strode toward the elevator as Perry laughed. She heard
him tell Jimmy, "You better hustle, son, or she'll leave you
behind." 

She was almost at the elevator before Jimmy caught up with her,
jogging up the ramp with the Kodak DCS slung over his shoulder,
almost incoherent with excitement at being allowed to use the
big, expensive camera.

Thanks to a cab driver who took her seriously when she told him
to "Step on it!" she arrived at the scene of the fire, with Jimmy
in tow, in good time for him to snap pictures of the flames, with
the firemen plying their hoses, and Superman hovering over the
building, using blasts of his freezing breath.

It was obvious that with Superman's help, the fire was being
quickly brought under control. Like Bill Henderson, she knew the
fire chief fairly well. John Gregory was a big man with a round,
weathered face and brown hair going gray at the temples. He was
cheerful and easy to talk to, although he took his job
seriously.

"Hi, Lois. Been here awhile?" he asked, taking off his helmet
long enough to swipe one hand across his forehead before
resettling it on his head.

"Hi, John; no, we just got here maybe fifteen minutes ago. Looks
like it's under control; what've you got?"

"Not sure yet if it's accidental or deliberate. We're leaning
toward accidental; we think a utilities crew nicked a gas line.
Thanks to Superman's help, we got this baby contained in record
time. He's gonna do a preliminary sweep for me while my guys
finish up here."

"Any injuries?" she asked. Most of the buildings in this
neighborhood were businesses, although there were a few
residential buildings mixed in. It was hard to tell what this one
had been.

"Nothing serious. This was a small factory of some kind -- empty
-- that was being remodeled into residential units. That's why we
think it was probably accidental -- there were a couple of
utilities crews here, working on the individual apartments."

They both watched as Superman stopped blowing freezing breath
over the building and swooped down low over it. Every few feet,
he stopped, hovered, and scanned over the rubble, then moved on.


"This -- Superman's help -- has speeded up containment times?"
she asked John, already knowing that the answer was yes.

"Yeah, but you know what's really great about Superman?" John
glanced at her, then back at the smoldering shell. Superman had
worked his way around to the far side of the building. "And you
can quote me on this, Lois. The best thing about Superman is that
there are fewer injuries -- and fewer fatalities. For both fire
victims and firefighters. *That's* what's great about him. Sure,
he helps us do our job faster and better -- and he's better than
an arson dog at sniffing out accelerants. Of course, stuff like
that's really our job, you know. He shouldn't be expected to do
it. But with the fires themselves -- there's a statistically
significant decrease in fire-related serious injuries and
fatalities in the city -- and that's why most of us do this job.
To save lives. With his help, we're doing that more often than
not nowadays." He took off his helmet again and ran his hand
through his hair. "That's what matters the most."

She'd wondered if she would be able to interview Superman with a
straight face, but it wasn't going to be a problem at all. This
was what they did, she and Clark -- they helped people. And it was
what countless other dedicated people -- firemen, policemen,
medical personnel -- did as well, on a daily basis. Sometimes with
little reward. It was good, and right, and moral -- but not
funny.

As John's crew began to overhaul the structure, exposing pockets
of smoldering rubble and extinguishing them so that the fire
wouldn't reignite, Superman landed lightly on the sidewalk
several yards away and approached them. Jimmy drifted over, still
snapping pictures.

"Good morning, Ms. Lane," Superman said formally. He
acknowledged Jimmy with a reserved smile and then turned to John.
"Well, I can go over it again if you'd like, John, but it does
look accidental. No trace of any accelerants, and no clean cut in
any lines. There's a nail in the gas line where several different
conduits -- the gas line, two water pipes and several electrical
cables -- share a narrow space. That's the only breach I saw."

John nodded. "Thank you, Superman. This doesn't have the… 'feel'
of an artificial fire. I'll have my investigators go over it, but
I suspect you're right. We've got statements from the men on the
utilities crews, and we'll check with the city-zoning inspector.
See if the proximity of those lines was approved and see who laid
what in the wrong place."

There was a shout from one of the firemen as small flames
erupted from a section they'd been overhauling; John, Superman,
and Lois turned to watch. Jimmy moved toward the action, snapping
pictures.

"They've got it under control," Superman stated.

John nodded, and offered his hand. "Thank you, Superman. Again.
My men and I appreciate your help."

Superman inclined his head with a smile as he shook the fire
chief's hand. "You're welcome, John. If there's nothing else?" He
began to turn away.

"Superman -- a few quick questions?" Lois said quickly.

He turned back with another formal smile and nod. "Certainly."

"You said it looks accidental. Were the crews in the building
when you arrived?"

"Yes. Both crews were on the floor above the breach and were
trapped by the smoke. They went up to the roof. As you can
probably still tell, this building was only four stories tall, so
the ladder truck was already beginning to rescue them when I
arrived. I flew some of them down, then checked the building.
There were no other people inside." His smile widened slightly.
"I did find a cat and three kittens, however; mother and children
are safe and unharmed."

John chuckled. "And some of my guys are like big kids. They'll
probably want me to let 'em take mother and babies to the
firehouse. We don't really need a firehouse cat -- or cats,
though… Want a kitten, Lois?"

She laughed.

Smiling, John glanced at Superman. "I don't suppose you'd be
interested…?"

"Thank you; no," he replied in his formal, deep voice. It
probably wasn't noticeable to anyone else, but Lois could hear
the laughter underlying his words. "I wouldn't have a place to
keep a cat. But…" < Think Clark Kent would like a cat? >

Lois interjected quickly, "I'll ask around the newsroom, John,
and let you know." < Cut it out, you bum. If you make me laugh…
>

If she burst out laughing for no apparent reason, John would
probably think she was nuts. < And a certain superhero *could*
get into trouble with another certain super-powered person. > 

< Sorry… > She could still hear… feel? …his amusement.

"Thanks, Lois." John's voice broke into her thoughts. With a
resigned smile, he added, "I suspect I might end up taking a
kitten home to my kids." He laughed, shaking his head. "It won't
be the first time. My wife has started referring to our house as
the Gregory Animal Sanctuary…"

Lois chuckled. "So that's one down…" She slanted a quick grin at
Superman. "Good thing it was a small litter." 

John laughed again. "Yeah. And I suspect we're going to end up
with a firehouse cat -- that'll take care of the mother cat."

Superman had smiled at her comment, and she felt a warm wave of
gentle amusement wash over her. < An exclusive Superman
interview, and a sidebar on the cats? >

< Definitely. Guess we better wrap this up, huh? > 

Turning back to Superman, she said, "John says there weren't any
serious injuries to the men. But there were some minor ones?"

He nodded. "There were a couple of cases of smoke inhalation,
but no other injuries."

"The area of the breach -- does it look like a code violation?"

"Well, I'm no expert, but I don't think so. The units are
somewhat unconventionally shaped; this was an old factory and
there are some structures remaining that have to be worked
around. So some areas where bathrooms and kitchens were planned
have limited space in which to place the utility lines. I think
it was an error on the utilities crew's part -- there's a bracket
holding some electrical cables, and one of the nails hit the gas
line."

"The crew in question has two apprentices; one of them may have
installed that line," John interjected. "We've got detailed
statements from the men on those crews; it looks like simple
human error."

"So you're confirming it was accidental?" Lois asked Superman.

"Well, that's really up to John's inspectors; they'll look over
what I found, do their own investigation… They're the experts,
and it's certainly possible that I've missed something."

She looked back at the fire chief, an eyebrow raised in inquiry.
"John?"

"Superman is right; my guys will still go over every inch of the
building. But Superman frequently does an initial once-over for
us, and it saves time and resources if we know where to focus our
attention. But to answer your question: Pending final word from
my fire inspectors, yes -- it probably is accidental."

"In other words, a definite maybe," Lois couldn't resist adding,
and watched Superman's smile broaden while John laughed
outright.

"Exactly," John answered, still chuckling. He settled his helmet
more firmly on his head, then nodded to both Superman and Lois.
"My thanks again, Superman. Lois, give me a call; I should have
an official answer for you late tomorrow, or the day after." 

"Will do, John -- thanks." With a brief salute, the man headed
toward his crew. Lois turned back to the brightly clad man beside
her.

"If there's nothing else…?" Superman asked.

She smiled at him. "No, that's it. Thanks, Superman."

He lifted off and was gone.

Lois glanced around for Jimmy. He'd stopped taking pictures and
was apparently scrolling back through the ones he'd taken. She'd
heard all about that feature in the cab on the way over -- about
how exciting it was to be able to see what he had instantly,
instead of waiting to develop the film, and so on.

"Clark?" She said it softly. Did he have time to put in an
appearance? She'd said he'd meet them at the fire.

Yes -- there he was, coming around the corner, smiling at her.

"If anybody asks, I've been talking to the owner of the
building," he said when he reached her.

"Nice. And have you been, really?" she asked him playfully.

"Well… briefly," he said with a laugh. "I…" He moved even nearer
and lowered his voice to a whisper, knowing she'd still be able
to hear him. "I did a quick rinse in the ocean to get rid of the
smoke smell -"

"How?" she asked curiously.

He glanced around; Jimmy was turning toward them. "If I spin
fast enough, the water heats up enough to do the job without
soap," he said rapidly. "Then I spun dry, headed back this way
and changed out of the suit in an alley -- left it too fast to be
seen, then slowed down as I came around the corner."

He resumed his normal speaking voice as Jimmy approached them.
"The owner was speaking to John, so I got a quick statement from
him." As Jimmy reached them, he finished, "The guy plans to
rebuild… I assume you spoke to both John Gregory and Superman?"

She nodded, smiling.

"Hey, CK -- Lois said you'd meet us here," Jimmy said.

Clark grinned. "And here I am. Lois tells me she's got
information from both the fire chief and Superman. So we're good
to go?"

"Yeah -"

Lois heard it at the same time Clark did. < Help, Superman! >

"Well, I'll call this in and Jimmy and I will go back to the
Planet and finish it up," she said briskly, glancing at her
watch. "Think you can make that meeting with our source? And meet
me later at the Planet?"

"I can if I hurry," he said, grin broadening.

"So, go!" She waved him away. Clark turned and headed away at a
jog. As he turned the corner, she heard him say softly, "Thanks,
Lois!"

She called the story in, and then hailed a cab to take her and
Jimmy back to the Planet to fine-tune it for Perry.

Her companion was only slightly less exuberant than he'd been on
the way to the fire. She learned more about the future of
photography during the short ride than she'd ever need to know.
She endured the conversation, though, because in his enthusiasm
Jimmy had dumped the camera in her lap. Perforce, she'd found
herself scrolling through the pictures he'd taken, and she'd had
to admit that yes, it was a pretty cool feature.

When they arrived at the Planet, Jimmy disappeared into one of
the resource rooms to download the photos he'd taken.

She was working on editing the fire story when she heard Clark
call her name from the roof. She looked up, affecting a sort of
thoughtful staring-into-space-because-I'm-thinking expression as
she gazed up at him through the floors. He had apparently already
spun out of the suit before he heard whatever it was he'd heard;
she watched now as he spun back into it. Nope, she'd never get
tired of watching him do that.

"There's a multi-car accident on the beltway; I need to go help.
I'll see you as soon as I can; thank you ahead of time for
whatever brilliant excuse you think of this time," he said
rapidly, and took off again.

It was a good thing they were in the newspaper business. She
could probably use the 'meeting a source' excuse ad infinitum
without getting either of them in trouble. Good thing they hadn't
chosen to be lawyers or surgeons or something. She could only
imagine how awkward -- how impossible, really -- it would be for
him to make an excuse during some big trial, or mid- open-heart
surgery, or something.

She smiled at the thought and returned to work. He'd be back
eventually.

---

And now here he was.

She looked up when she heard his heartbeat. Clark was striding
down the ramp, straightening his tie.

"Ah, partner, there you are. Got what we needed from that last
source?" She barely suppressed a grin.
 
He dropped into the chair next to her, leaned forward, and said
very softly, "Sorry it took so long; *two* car accidents. …What
have I been up to?"

She barely restrained herself from kissing him. If he insisted
on being so close, she couldn't *really* be expected to resist
temptation, could she? "Well, let's see… We saw the first
accident on LNN -" She tossed a thumb over her shoulder at the
row of television monitors across the newsroom. "…So I guess we
don't have a story on that one. I can't think of a good way to
place you on the scene for a Superman interview or a write-up of
the accident itself." She heaved a theatrical sigh that made him
smile. "Where was the second one?" she added.

"On Michigan; not too far away from here." Smugly, he added, "I
got some exclusive Superman quotes from that one."

"Gee, that was lucky," she said with a straight face. "Too bad
you didn't have a camera."

He laughed. "I'll admit that would be a little harder to pull
off. But at least we have the story."

"I might have to think about that camera thing…" she mused. "But
yes, we do have the story. And in that case, you were meeting our
source -- the one whose meeting was delayed because of the fire.
On the way back you got the Superman story when you saw him
helping at a car accident. And you ought to hurry and write that
up, partner." She grinned at him.

"Okay," he said cheerfully. < Thanks. > He rose and moved to his
own desk.

< You can pay me later. I'm thinking… chocolate. Or kisses. No,
wait -- both. >

Any doubts that he'd received her reply were quelled when she
heard his muffled snort of laughter.

< You're on. >

"Time, everyone!" Perry yelled from his office doorway.

Every now and then, someone -- usually Ralph -- would holler back,
"Two beers!" or "Another round, bartender!" or something similar
in response. It would usually get a few laughs, but most of his
coworkers had heard it before. Perry would either ignore it or
threaten him with the dregs of story assignments.

Most of the newsroom staff were convinced that Perry held onto
such stories precisely because they *were* such duds, and worked
so well as deterrents. Lois had been threatened with covering a
dog show on a few occasions, although Perry had never followed
through with any such assignment. Ralph, on the other hand, was
the unofficial record-holder for Perry's leftover stories.

Today, no one said anything. It had been a busy day, news-wise,
so most of the staff had their heads down, busily finishing up
whatever they were working on prior to submitting it. They had
roughly fifteen minutes before Perry cut off any more submissions
for the day.

Lois had sent Perry the fire story earlier, and everything else
she had was still pending -- needing research or quotes, or
something similar. So she just sat and watched Clark as he sped
discreetly through writing up the car accident.

She hadn't heard either of those accidents, but he seemed to
have a better ear for emergencies.

They'd discussed that a little this morning. He'd shown up at
her apartment after his early Superman patrol and since Perry had
said they didn't have to come in early, they had had a leisurely
breakfast together at a place near her apartment, and had then
driven in together.

"I think you hear people in need better than me," she had told
him.

"Don't you hear them too?" he'd asked, somewhat surprised.
 
"Well, yes, sometimes…" She'd thought about it for a moment,
then continued slowly, "But… It's usually not real strong; I have
to really concentrate. I just… don't hear cries for help like you
do." She had hesitated, glancing at him rather anxiously. "It's
not that I don't care about people, but…"

Clark had nodded sympathetically. "Well, you never really had a
chance to truly live with your abilities, though; you also never
had a chance to talk to anyone about them. It was more that you
lived your life… *despite* them. Or… *around* them."

"And I think maybe I can… tune it out better than you can,"
she'd added. "Not intentionally, I mean…."

"No, it's more of an instinctual thing, I think," he had agreed.
"Except in rare situations when you're… right on top of a
situation, you know? If it's happening in your immediate
vicinity, you don't tune it out."

He'd been right. She'd learned very early to suppress that sort
of thing, until it was second nature. "Sometimes, I just… I
*couldn't* listen -- because I couldn't help. But… you did say
that before Superman, there were lots of times when *you*
couldn't help, either… "

"But unlike you," he'd replied seriously, "I had my mom and dad
to talk it over with. You didn't have anyone, Lois. I think…
maybe you couldn't let yourself hear cries for help, or even
think about it, or it would have destroyed you."

"I don't really know… *how* to help, anyway, Clark." As she had
pulled into the Daily Planet parking garage, she'd added,
"Except… you know, by other… non-super ways. I mean, I can, and
do, use my powers to help me do my job as a reporter; there've
been times when it's been a huge advantage. And as a reporter, I
can fight and expose corruption, evil, and exploitation -- and
hopefully, I can make things change for the better. That's really
the only way I know how to help."

He'd hugged her against his side briefly as they walked toward
the elevators. "But that's a perfectly good way to fight those
dragons, Lois. And you do seem to have a real knack for it," he'd
added, smiling.

They'd had to put the conversation on hold at that point, since
there were other Planet employees arriving for work.

She was roused from her musing when Clark stood up, saying
cheerfully, "All done, partner. Written, proofread, and
submitted. Ready to go?"

"That depends," she said haughtily, but the effect was ruined by
the smile she couldn't hide. "Where are we going?"

His grin widened into a full-fledged, brilliant, float-inducing
smile. It was a good thing she was still sitting down; she
grabbed the edge of her chair's seat just in case her control
failed.

"I thought we'd go to my place; I'll cook you a nice meal and we
can just… hang out. Watch a movie, or something…" He winked at
her.

< Or something? > She rose to her feet as he held the chair for
her. "Sounds good to me." Her voice sounded normal, even though
her insides felt all tingly.

< Mmm hmmm. Talk, maybe. Fly… > She felt the wave of love and
desire roll over her. < …Kiss. > "Let's go, partner." His voice
sounded normal, too -- if slightly deeper to her sensitive ears.

She wasn't sure she'd be able to walk; her brain was almost
fully occupied with the anticipation of a… delightful evening. <
Um. Having a little trouble concentrating, partner. >

With a low chuckle, he offered her his arm. They made it to the
elevators arm in arm, with Clark talking idly of the somewhat
nebulous story ideas they'd been discussing earlier in the day.
And after a minute or two, she was able to hold up her end of the
conversation.

They separated, waiting for the elevator, still chatting idly.
There were only the two of them; other staff members were still
packing away various items preparatory to leaving. When the
elevator arrived, Clark gestured her in, then followed and
pressed one of the buttons on the control panel.

The doors closed.

Instantly, Clark's arms were holding her securely against him.
"I love you," he whispered just before his lips came down on
hers. She responded with enthusiasm, and the world around her
faded. She felt their feet leave the floor as she was overwhelmed
with sensation, and then there was only him.

They were interrupted when the elevator stopped with a small
jolt and their heads gently bumped the ceiling. They both
returned to the floor as the doors opened onto the basement
parking garage. Dazedly, she looked out into the garage, then
looked up at Clark. He still held her against him, which was good
- she probably couldn't stand on her own -- and he looked equally
dazed. He was leaning back against the elevator wall; apparently,
they were holding each other up.

He reached out and pressed the 'door open' button and held it.
"Um." He shook his head slightly as if to clear it, and his other
arm loosened around her. "Did we mean to come down here? Or was I
supposed to push the 'up' button?"

She straightened up. "Wow, flyboy. That was…" She drew a deep
breath. He expected her to be able to think after that kiss? "Uh…
I think we drove in, didn't we?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we did."

She was still feeling a bit dazed. "You're very good at that,
you know?"

He leaned down and kissed her again, gently. "You inspire me."
It was a brief kiss, and as if he couldn't help himself, he
followed it with a second, more lingering one.

Then he straightened, hugging her against his side briefly, and
let her go. Releasing the 'door open' button, he stopped the
doors as they began to close and gestured for her to precede
him.

As they exited the elevator, he took her hand. She curled her
fingers around his, and they walked in comfortable silence to her
car. Within a few minutes, they were driving through the city
toward his apartment.

-----

When Clark had said he would cook her a nice meal, Lois had
assumed he meant 'cook' in the sense of throwing a frozen pizza
in the oven, or making sandwiches. Instead, she found herself in
his kitchen, sitting at his table while he set water to boil for
pasta, and began to gather ingredients for the sauce.

She watched as he added canned tomatoes, tomato paste, several
different seasonings, and a generous amount of white wine to the
bowl of a machine sitting next to his coffee maker, and pressed a
button. "This is my mom's recipe," he commented. "White wine
marinara -- I think you'll like it." After a few moments, he
lifted the bowl off the machine -- a food processor? -- and set the
now-blended mixture aside, and began to chop an onion.

"I don't know how to cook anything that doesn't come in its own
pan, frozen, with directions on how long to leave it in the
oven," she confessed. "Or the microwave. I… never learned how."
What if he minded about that? What if it really mattered, and -

"That's all right." He said it over his shoulder, then turned
back to his preparations. "I can teach you, if you really want to
know how. But it's not necessary, if you'd rather not. Don't feel
like you have to learn how to cook for me." 

He dumped the onions into a smaller pan, added a small amount of
olive oil, then turned on the heat under it and began to gently
stir the contents. "Mom has always felt that both girls *and*
boys should learn basic housework -- cooking, cleaning, and
laundry -- because these days, very few women stay home full
time," he continued. He poured the blended mixture from the
machine's bowl into the pan and stirred it again. "It's only fair
that if a husband and wife both work outside the home, they
should share the household tasks. I'm perfectly happy being the
cook in this rela-" He stopped abruptly. "That is -- well…" He
stopped again.

Lois watched him, unconsciously holding her breath. Did he
mean…?

He turned the heat down under the small pan and covered it. Then
he turned to face her fully. He looked -- not worried, exactly,
but… He must not have meant what it sounded like. And he was
trying to find a gentle way to make sure she didn't get the wrong
idea… 

She exhaled. Time to let him off the hook.

"Clark… it's okay," she began awkwardly. "I didn't think you
meant -- you know, anything specific about you and me, or… I mean,
I know you didn't mean you wanted to mar-" She stopped, trying to
swallow around the lump in her throat. She *wasn't* going to get
upset. Doggedly, she plowed on. "Well, you know -- I didn't take
it seriously when your mom said -"

She stopped when he squatted down next to her chair, taking her
hands in his. "Lois." His eyes level with hers, he gazed at her
seriously and said softly, "I *did* mean it. I *do* mean it. I
want us to be together like that. I love you. I want…" He took a
deep breath. "I want to marry you, Lois. I want us to be husband
and wife. It feels like I've wanted that forever. But…" His mouth
quirked into the beginning of a smile. "I didn't intend to
propose to you in between stirring the pasta sauce. I meant to
wait for a nice, romantic moment. So…"

He sobered again. Letting go of her hands long enough to cup her
face gently in his larger hands, he leaned forward to kiss her
softly, sweetly -- and way too briefly. When he pulled back, she
saw everything he felt for her shining from his eyes. Taking her
hands again, he continued, "Can you consider this a… pre-proposal
statement of intent? And then -" He smiled. "…Could you be
surprised, when I ask you for real?" 

He stopped rather abruptly again, the smile fading. "That is… If
you even want to… Well, I guess I'm just assuming you'd say -"

She felt the joy welling up inside her. Would she float off the
chair if he weren't holding her hands? When he looked at her like
that… When he was… pre-proposing? She felt lighter than the air
around her. So if she wasn't actually floating, she ought to be.

"I will, Clark."

"You'll…?"

"I will. I *will* consider what you just said to be a
pre-proposal. I *will* be surprised when you ask me for real. And
I think -" She smiled her own smile at him, letting him see
everything she felt for him. "…that I *will* say… 'I will,' …if
you're sure -"

His laugh was joyful. "I'm sure, Lois." To her delighted
amusement, he floated up off the floor. "I was sure almost from
the moment I met you." 

She found herself floating, too -- up off the seat of her chair
when he didn't let go of her hands. And as he straightened, he
shifted his hands to her waist, and lifted her and twirled her
around. After a startled moment, she began to laugh, and he
laughed with her, joyfully. And then they were both returning to
stand on the floor, and she was in his arms. And he was kissing
her, and nothing else mattered.

The only thing that saved the pasta sauce was the oven timer,
beeping to announce that the preheat cycle had ended.

---

Lois ended up helping to prepare the meal. Clark had provided
her with a large bowl, a cutting board, and a knife, and had then
set several salad ingredients in front of her. "Can you cut these
up and make a salad?" he'd asked.

"I guess so," she'd answered, slightly dubiously. She knew how
the various ingredients should look in the final product, anyway.
"Do they require any special sort of cutting?"

"No -- just in bite-size pieces," he'd said. "You can cut the
lettuce in half, then separate the layers and tear them up into
smaller pieces." Indicating the small tomatoes, he'd continued,
"These are cherry tomatoes. Some people leave them whole, but if
you could cut them into quarters, that'll be fine."

So she'd torn up lettuce, cut tomatoes, and then, at his
direction, sliced carrots and cucumbers. She'd also mixed up the
dressing, again following his directions.

And so it was with a real sense of accomplishment that she'd
joined him when everything was ready, and it seemed like
everything tasted better than their equivalent versions in her
favorite Italian restaurant. But maybe that was just because she
was with Clark. Lots of things in her life seemed better since
she'd met him.

"You were right, Clark," she told him as they ate. "I think this
is the best tomato sauce I've ever tasted."

He smiled at her. "Mom calls it 'The Best Marinara Sauce Yet.'
She won a ribbon with it several years ago at the Corn Festival.
I think the wine is what makes the difference. And it's
relatively easy -- and quick -- to make."

"Well, it's very good." She hesitated, then asked, "Have you
talked to them? You know, since…"

"Since Jor-El spoke to us?" He nodded. "Yes. I called them this
morning, before I came by your place." His smile widened. "It's a
good thing I have super powers; Mom squealed so loudly when I
told her, I'd have gone deaf if I wasn't invulnerable. She
shouted for Dad to come to the phone, and then she had me tell
them both all over again. They're absolutely thrilled for us, and
they want to know when we'll come out there again."

"I'd like to see them again; I liked your parents," she said
shyly.

"And you know they like you. Mom suggested this coming weekend;
we could go out there Friday night for supper, then come back on
Saturday night or Sunday morning. What do you think?"

"I'd like that, except…" She hesitated. There was only one spare
bedroom at his parents' house. Where would they each sleep? She
and Clark hadn't really discussed intimacy at all; …things…
hadn't progressed beyond holding each other and kissing. Yet. She
didn't even know how much experience he had in that area. He was
certainly a good kisser… She glanced up at him.

He was waiting patiently while she worked through her thoughts.
With a gentle smile, he said encouragingly, "…Except…?"

"Well…" She hesitated again.

This was silly. She was Mad Dog Lane, for heaven's sake! "Um…"
She squared her shoulders. "Where would we stay, Clark? Your
parents only have one extra bedroom. It's not that I don't want…"
She floundered. This was easier to think about than it was to
talk about, and that wasn't saying much. "Well, I'm just not sure
I'm ready… That *we're* ready…" She glanced rather desperately at
the front door. Would it look silly if she made a dive for it?

But her prince was nodding calmly, and reaching out to place his
hand over her agitated one. She'd been pushing the last few bites
of pasta around on her plate; his touch stilled her fidgety
movements. She looked up into his concerned and sympathetic
eyes.

"It's all right, Lois." He said it softly. "I understand. And I
agree." He rose and came around to her side, squatting down again
so that their eyes were nearly level. One side of his mouth
quirking into a half grin, he said, still softly, "I seem to be
making a habit of kneeling at your feet, my love."

She gave a choked laugh. "Clark -"

He took her hands in his, sobering. "Lois, I love you. That
means I want… well, what you want. I want your happiness. And I
think you want mine." When she nodded, he continued, "We want
what's best for each other -- it's why the idea of being related
was so hard. Neither of us wanted the other to be unhappy, but
the situation was not under our control. Now that we know the
truth -- well, we have all the time in the world. For intimacy.
I'm perfectly happy taking it slow."

She released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Oh,
Clark." It was nearly a whisper. Unable to resist, she freed her
hands from his, slipping them up his chest to rest on his
shoulders as she leaned forward and kissed him softly. He
returned her kiss sweetly, and it was several moments before she
remembered that there was something else she needed to tell him.
She pulled back and tipped her forehead against his. This was
easier to say if she wasn't looking directly at him. "I'm… Well,
I have no experience. At all. In… you know…"

He stroked one hand along her cheek and into her hair before he
pulled back slightly and gently tipped her chin up so that he
could look into her eyes. "Neither do I," he whispered with a
soft smile. "At all. So we'll learn together, okay? But not right
now. Later, when we both feel it's the right time. And maybe…" He
framed her face with both hands and kissed her as gently as she
had kissed him. It felt like a promise. "…Maybe that will be on
our wedding night. There's no pressure, Lois. Okay?"

She nodded solemnly.

He kissed her again, just as gently. "And don't worry -- at Mom
and Dad's house, you'll get my old room. I'll sleep on the couch.
They won't assume anything different, Lois. We won't have to
explain anything to them." Taking her hands again, he asked,
"Does that help?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Clark." She looked at him for a moment. He was so
good-looking, and so self-confident, and he was such a good
kisser. How had he managed to not…

"Lois? What is it?" He was still holding her hands; he squeezed
them slightly as he added, "There's something else, isn't
there?"

She took one hand from his and gently touched his forehead,
running her fingers along his hairline to his temple. "How did
you…? Well, you're so…" She stopped, but he smiled encouragingly
at her. She began again. "I thought all guys… You're so
good-looking, Clark. You must have dated, in high school or
college. But you've never…?"

"No, I haven't," he replied seriously. "There was just no one I
ever felt I could share that with. Yes, I did date. In high
school, it was more a group of us that hung around together,
although a few of the gang were considered to be couples. But it
wasn't anything intense. At least, not for me. And in college, it
was still pretty casual. I had a couple of girlfriends, but being
that intimate… Well, I never felt I could share something that
close without sharing my secret first. And I never felt close
enough to anyone to even consider it, until I met you."

He paused, then continued with a slight smile, "That works both
ways, anyway, Lois. You're a strikingly beautiful young woman,
but you've never been intimate with anyone, either. I know you
grew up differently, and held yourself apart from your peers more
than I did. But still, we all have a need for closeness with
another person. There *must* have been men who showed an
interest, but you never reciprocated, no matter how... lonely you
might have been."

"You're right," she replied slowly. "There were a few guys that…
asked me out, especially in college. But even if I was lonely, it
was never worth the risk of getting close to someone. It was easy
to say no to them." She smiled at him. "I never even thought
about sharing my secret with anyone but you."

She leaned forward and kissed him. "Thanks, Clark."

"You're welcome." He raised her hands and kissed the backs of
her fingers, then let them go to cup her face for another kiss.
"So… What do you think? Would you like to visit Mom and Dad this
weekend?"

"Yes, I would."

"Okay. I'll call them and let them know." He rose to his feet.
"Now -- I have a surprise for you," he said with a small grin. "A
dessert I picked up earlier." 

He had set up the coffee maker earlier in the evening; now he
pressed the switch to start the coffee brewing. As the machine
began its cycle, he moved to the refrigerator, opened it, and
removed a cardboard pastry box.

Intrigued, she focused on it and -- 

"No peeking," he said sternly.

She harrumphed at him. "Fine." She gave an exaggerated sigh and
sat back, arms folded, and gave him an imperial look. "So?
Surprise me, already." She lost the fight to suppress her smile
when he winked at her and performed an elaborate bow.

"Yes, milady," he intoned seriously, and then they were both
laughing.

Returning to the table, he took his seat opposite her again,
then opened the box with a flourish to reveal a tiny and
elaborate chocolate creation -- a cake? -- just right for two
people.

"Oh! What is it?" she asked.

"It's a chocolate hazelnut truffle cake. There's a little place
in San Francisco that sells them." He carefully lifted the cake
out -- it was presented on a small, pale yellow ceramic plate --
and set it between them, then handed her a fork.

She hesitated. "It's almost too pretty to eat, Clark." Then, as
he grinned at her, she smiled back and they said simultaneously,
"Nah…"

Laughing, she tried a bite.

"Oh." She closed her eyes and savored the taste. Opening her
eyes again, she met his amused look. "Marry me."

He threw his head back and laughed heartily.

They shared the cake between them. Clark got up long enough to
pour them each a cup of coffee.

As they were finishing, she remembered the conversation that had
been put on hold when they arrived at work.

"This morning, we were talking about your hearing cries for help
better than me," she reminded him. "Yesterday, I never heard
either of those car accidents."

"Well, I heard the first one just after I landed on the Planet's
roof," he said. "It was probably easier for me to hear it,
though, because I was up there in the open -- you were inside the
building, so sounds would be more muted, you know."

She nodded. "What was Superman needed for just after the fire,
by the way? You made it back to the Planet -- as far as the roof,
anyway -- only about a half hour after Jimmy and I left the
fire."

"An attempted car-jacking. The carjacker must have thought I
couldn't chase him down. While the victim stood on the curb -
with a few witnesses -- and called the police from his cell phone,
I grabbed the car and returned it to the scene of the crime. I
held it up in the air until the police arrived, then brought it
down and let them take over." He grinned. "The carjacker seemed a
little shaken."

She laughed. "I'll bet. Nice job, flyboy."

"Thanks. I thought it had a certain flair." He winked at her.
"Too bad there weren't any reporters around." As she laughed, he
continued with a grin, "Anyway, after that, I headed back. Just
after I spun out of the suit, I heard the first of the cars hit
the next one, and by the time I got there, it was a sort of
domino effect. Five cars in all. They hit pretty hard -- there
were some fairly serious injuries, and Superman helped free two
trapped people. He also took a couple of the less injured victims
to the hospital."

"Yeah, LNN showed it. They had a helicopter there -- the
cameraman got some nice, clear shots of Superman peeling open
that one car to get to the driver. It was pretty impressive."

He smiled at her. "And the pilot had the good sense to stay out
of my -- out of Superman's -- way. So Superman could do his job and
help the rescue personnel free those people."

"Okay…" She shook her head at him. "It's just weird to talk
about you in the third person when we're alone, Clark." 

He laughed. "Mom says the same thing. It's just habit. We can
save the third person for when we're in public, if you like." He
stood up and reached for her empty plate, stacking it with his.

"I do like. I don't think either of us will slip up when we're
at the Planet or at some emergency or something, Clark." She got
up, too, and began to help him clear the meal. "We've both had to
hide our abilities all of our lives, after all. It'd be
different, I think, if only one of us -- you, for instance, were…"
She frowned. "What do we call it, anyway? Different? A…
Kryptonite? Or would that be Kryptonian? A strange visitor from
another Planet?" She ignored his snort of laughter. "…Super?"

"Kryptonian, maybe… 'Kryptonite; sounds more like someone who
actually lives there. We're just of… Kryptonian descent." He
opened one of the cupboard doors and removing several food
storage containers. "And 'super' still seems a little…
pretentious. Although with the Superman name, 'super' *has* sort
of caught on with the media."

She grinned at him. "Hey, I had to come up with some sort of
name for you in less than a minute -- and I'll bet that was
something you didn't think about at *all*, flyboy -- what to tell
people to call you." She gathered the salad plates, stacking them
with the larger plates. "The name had to go with that 'S' on your
chest. At least I didn't say something like… 'Splendiferous Man'
or… 'Supreme Guy…' Or 'Sensational Man,' or… or Sean, or
something." 

He threw back his head and laughed heartily. "And I want you to
know how much I appreciate it that you *didn't* say Splendiferous
Man. Or Supreme Guy -- that makes me sound like the pizza delivery
boy."

She was laughing, too. "Help, Supreme Guy! I don't know what to
cook for dinner!"

That cracked them both up. He had to set down the food
containers, and it took several minutes for him to stop laughing
enough to speak. "And… *Sean*?"

She had been leaning against the counter, laughing; she
straightened, grinning, and waved a hand airily. "All I knew was
that it had to be something grand and it had to start with an
'S.' So under that kind of pressure, of *course* all I could
think of at first were ordinary male 'S' names. Sam… Steve…
Stanley… Stuart… Sean…" 

He was still chuckling. "Well, you're right -- I never thought at
all about what to call myself. I never even realized I hadn't
thought about it until just now, as a matter of fact." He sobered
slightly as he looked at her. "Thank you, Lois. I was still in
the planning stages, you know. I was at Mom and Dad's; I'd gone
out there quick to get the suit -- I don't even know why, but I'm
glad I did -- before hustling over to try to stop your little
adventure at the launch." He ignored her snort. "Mom and Dad were
watching the launch on TV when that alarm went off, and I just
reacted. I never thought about the media, or a name, or anything.
And then when I got there, and I looked into the shuttle and saw
you…" He moved closer.

She smiled up at him. "I was awfully glad -- and awfully startled
-- to see you, Clark. And then -- to realize that the man with the
same abilities as me, the one saving the shuttle from a bomb, was
*you*…" She reached up and gently stroked his cheek and jaw. "I
had been fighting my attraction to you so hard. It was such a
relief to realize that I could tell you this hidden thing about
me, and that you would understand…" Softly, she finished, "That
was when I began to think that maybe I *could* have a future with
you."

He captured her hand against his cheek, then turned his head and
kissed her palm. Looking back at her, he said, "I thought about
telling you, you know, but I was afraid…

"That I might see your abilities and not the real you?"

He frowned. "You mean like a… groupie or something? No -- not
really. I've never thought you were a shallow person, Lois. And
really, the abilities are a part of me -"

"That I might print it, then?"

"No! No, Lois -- never that -- even though it would have been the
story of the century. No. I never thought that you'd print it. I
already knew you would never do something like that to a friend -
to me."

"Clark, I was so mean to you!" She looked down, biting her lip.
She hadn't been very friendly even at the best of times, and
especially that awful day when those people had been killed in
that tenement fire.

"No you weren't, Lois." He gently touched her jaw, urging her
chin up until she looked him in the eye. "You're thinking about
that fire, aren't you? I knew you didn't really mean the things
you said. It was obvious -- to me, anyway -- that something
horrible had happened. And I knew if I gave you a little time,
you'd be able to talk about it."

She hugged him fiercely. "Thanks, Clark." Her voice was muffled
against his chest, and his arms were tight around her as he
hugged her back. "For not giving up on me."

He chuckled, and she felt it rumble through her. Resting his
chin lightly on top of her head, he said softly, "You're
welcome."

After a few moments, she pulled away slightly. "What were you
afraid of, then, Clark?"

He smiled crookedly at her. "I thought you might recognize me
and… I don't know… hate me. For having this secret. For not
telling you -- not trusting you with it. Or worse, be afraid of
me. And I didn't want to lose you -- lose your friendship."

She told him earnestly, "I didn't hate you. I was just so
relieved. That it was you, I mean. If there was going to be
somebody else like me…" She paused. "I'm saying it awkwardly, but
what I mean is, if… Well, there's no one else I'd have wanted it
to be. Does that make sense?"

His arms tightened again for a moment before letting her go.
"Yes."

"…All I knew was that I had to reassure you that your secret was
safe," she continued. "And then -- I had to tell you about me."

"And you did. And after overcoming a few obstacles, here we
are." He glanced around, and then gestured at the table.
"Cleaning up my kitchen."

She giggled. "I think 'a few obstacles' is rather an
understatement, Kent."

He laughed and began putting the leftover food into storage
containers.

She gathered the silverware. "So, anyway -- on your way back
from that big multi-car accident, there was the other one -- the
one on Michigan…"

"Yeah… That one wasn't too bad, although one car was flipped
over. But no one was injured seriously -- just bumps and bruises."
He was spooning the leftover salad into one of the larger
containers.

Lois stacked their plates on the counter. "Leave those -- I'll do
them," Clark told her as she began to run water into the sink.

"Tell you what -- you put away the leftover food, and I'll do
the dishes," she suggested. She winked at him, turned back to the
sink, and tossed over her shoulder, "Race ya!" 

"Lois -!" she heard him laughingly exclaim, as she poured on the
speed.

Seconds later, finishing, she dried the last plate, hung up the
towel, then slowed and turned back to him, laughing. "Ha!"

He was still a blur, but as she turned fully toward him, he
slowed, and she saw him shut the refrigerator. He, too, was
laughing. Throwing his hands up in defeat, he said, "You win!" He
moved toward her, gathering her into a hug. "…You goof," he
murmured. As she laughed up at him, snuggling closer, he dropped
a quick kiss onto her lips. Then sobering, he slid one hand up to
cup the back of her head and kissed her again, more deeply.

It was several minutes before they separated slightly, Lois
laying her head against his chest just over his heart. He kissed
her hair, then laid his cheek against the top of her head, and
they just stood that way for a while, there in his kitchen,
enjoying the freedom to hold each other like this.

Finally, he stirred, arms loosening from around her. "Let me
make some more coffee and then let's go sit down," he suggested.
"We can watch a movie, or just talk." He kissed her lightly. "And
I can hold you."

---

They sat together on his comfortable couch, more or less
watching the featured movie on one of the cable channels. After a
while, though, Lois resumed the conversation they'd started
earlier.

Hitching around a bit from where she sat tucked up against him,
under his arm, she turned so she could look at him. "I do think
you hear cries for help more easily, Clark."

"Well, we talked about that earlier," he said. "Remember, I had
the kind of support you never had."

"Yes, and I agree -- I do think I've probably… I guess you could
say 'trained' myself not to hear many of them -" She scootched
around a bit more, sitting with her legs crossed Indian style so
that she could face him.

He straightened up, too, from where he was sprawled down into
the corner of the couch. "Unless they're close, or it's something
really big," he reminded her. "You hear those. You heard the
fire, for instance."

"Yeah… Actually," she mused, "Maybe that's because I've been
hanging around with you so much." And as he cocked an eyebrow at
her in inquiry, she continued seriously, "Really, Clark. I think
I've actually started to hear more of it -- people in need --
since you've been Superman. Maybe I've become more… sort of in
tune with your ability, or how you think."

He laughed softly and leaned forward to drop a quick kiss on her
mouth. "How I think, huh?"

She frowned at him, an effect that was spoiled when she giggled.
"Quit distracting me, Kent."

"But it's so much fun." He smiled at her. "Seriously, I wonder
if it's because we've got this sort of ability to… not exactly
read each other's minds, since it doesn't happen all the time,
but to have a better-than-normal ability to know what the other
is thinking."

"Yeah… I don't know what that is, but you're right. But I also
think that you hear more of those cries because you're more…
altruistic, Clark. More empathetic."

Taking her hands in his, all traces of teasing gone, he said
earnestly, "Lois, you have a lot of empathy for others." And as
she shook her head, "You do. Or you wouldn't be as good at your
job as you are. You can't tell me you don't care, because it's
obvious that you do."
 
"Well, okay… But you're the more… uninhibitedly empathetic."
When he laughed, she insisted, "Really. It's part of your natural
makeup, Clark. You're always willing to lend a hand."

"Like a boy scout?" He grinned at her. "A big, brightly-colored
one? That flies?"

She swatted at him. "Well, if the boots and cape fit, flyboy…"
She continued seriously, "I mean it, Clark. You *are* more
altruistic -"

"But remember, I grew up that way," he reminded her gently. "Mom
and Dad actively encouraged me to help others in need. Of
course," he added reflectively, "that was back when we thought it
meant carrying someone's groceries, or mowing an elderly
neighbor's lawn…"

She smiled, but shook her head. "I think that's why you hear
more cries for help, Clark. I'm more… more driven -"

"You do have a sort of bulldog tenacity," he said teasingly.

"Yeah… Mad Dog Lane, that's me," she said ruefully.

He stood up, bringing her with him, and tugged her gently
against him. She went willingly into his arms, tipping her face
up toward his. "Ah…" he said, barely above a whisper, and kissed
her lightly. "But you're *my* Mad Dog Lane -" He kissed her
again, a fleeting and gentle brush of his lips. "And you're -"
Another feather-light kiss. "…Perfect just the way you are…"
Again, he lifted his lips from hers, and this time, his mouth
remained poised just a hair's breadth away from hers, waiting...

With a moan, she closed the distance between them, and kissed
him, letting everything she felt for him flow into the kiss. He
groaned and began kissing her back in earnest.

---

It was quite some time before she became aware of their
surroundings again to find that they were floating about six
inches above the couch. She dimly remembered sinking back down
onto it at some point during that incredible kiss, Clark pulling
her down to rest against him. After that, she'd lost all contact
with the world around them, and apparently with the bonds of
gravity, too. Lifting her head to look down at him, she saw that
he looked as dazed as she felt.

She laid her head on his chest, listening to the fast but steady
beat of his heart, and felt him bring them both down onto the
couch cushions again. He shifted slightly to the side, so that
she was lying partly beside him and partly on him, and she felt
his arms tighten around her.

"Mmmm…" he murmured, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of
her head. It was a sweetly protective gesture, probably
unconscious on his part, but it made her feel cherished.

She closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the sound of his
heartbeat, until it was all that she heard. She had no desire to
move. Vaguely, she wondered what time it was. She should look, or
ask Clark. In a minute o