This continues the story started in Dawning and continued in Dawning
II, 3, 4 and 5. If you missed any of those (and all this really should
be read in order), ask me, visit ftp://ftp.swcp.com/pub/users/dstark,
or ask the fanfic index for them. All recognizable characters mentioned
below are the property of their respective owners, but the ideas are
mine, *all mine!* debby@swcp.com., July 9, 1995

Dawning 6  or Chances Are...

    Tuesday morning, Clark Kent almost missed his second budget meeting
in a row, but Lois Lane saw him rush in from the elevator with seconds
to spare and head for his desk, glance over it and grab up a pen and
note pad. When he turned toward the conference room and saw her
standing there outside the door, he smiled as if she were the best
thing he'd seen in ages.
    That made her tingle a little; he really did have good taste--but
she beat-down that too-smug thought. Then she felt doubly glad that she
had hesitated to enter and claim a good seat.
    Her first reason for lingering had been Raul Velasquez. She had
decided to let him get a chair and, as had become his habit, reserve
one next to him for her. Then she would enter and fail to see or hear
him, or remember he was also a resident of this time continuum. She
would find a chair on the opposite side of the table, maybe one near
Perry, who still frightened a lot of the staff, or preferably sitting
next to Clark, who had not yet turned up as she had formulated this
plan.
    I'm a coward, she thought, I should just *tell* Raul...
    Well, she'd tried.
    Tell him more forcefully then, so he'll believe you. *Chica linda*
my foot...
    But there was something holding her back from whacking a hefty dose
of sense into that fellow reporter, and she wasn't quite sure what it was.
    "I'm sorry I'm late," Clark said quietly as he approached and
glanced into the meeting room. It was half full of muttering,
leaderless staffers. He sighed but he sounded relieved, too, as though
life was changing for the better. He said, "It's been just one thing
after another."
    "That's all right, I understand."
    And she did. More than anyone else, she thought, she knew that the
last 36 hours had been hectic for him.
    She had stayed with him at police headquarters after the attempted
firebombing of his home. They had given their story to several
varieties of police officials, chatted with three of Clark's neighbors
who had come to see that the accused stayed in jail, and tried numerous
times to interview the malcontents. By 6 p.m. Lois and Clark had
gathered enough information to take in to the Daily Planet to write a
story about it. She had composed it because he said he felt too close
to the whole thing even though he agreed that his expose that had
probably triggered the attempt. She wondered if he felt guilty, if he
worried that the neighborhood might have burned down if he hadn't been
home.
    Well, she thought, he better not be worrying about might-have-
beens, he simply couldn't be everywhere at once, though it was obvious
now how often he tried to be, even when it meant leaving in
midsentence.
    So to help him out of his slump she had insisted he edit her work.
He had looked appropriately surprised but hadn't made any cracks about
the request. He fixed the spell-checker-fooling typos she had planted,
suggested one paragraph was a bit harsh and said a second didn't have
any backing, but overall he gave his approval to what there was to
write about the story. The accused duo hadn't said a word to anyone but
their lawyer, a woman neither Lois nor Clark had recognized, and none
of the three had wanted to talk to any representatives of the press.
The police were having trouble confirming their real identities, and
bail had been denied.
    They took our warning about Intergang to heart, Lois thought. She
also thought that maybe Black and Jaxon were their real names, and she
had every intention of tracking down them and their lawyer. She had
told Clark as much and he hadn't argued like she expected, but shrugged
and said, "Okay, be careful."
    "Of course! I'll talk to Bobby Bigmouth tomorrow."
    "Ah, do you want me to chip in for some... chocolate eclairs for
him?"
    "No, I'll make the Planet pay for them."
    Clark had smiled at that but said no more.
    That's when it had occurred to her that he might have been in
shock. Not big shock, no, he looked alert enough, but a tired, I-don't-
care-at-the-moment shock. Not, say, like her own screaming-somebody-
will-pay-for-this angry shock at seeing that tentacle draped over her
apartment building, not Clark. She wondered if he was thinking of
leaving the investigation up to the police, figuring they'd identify
the two soon enough. Maybe he thought the well publicized failure to
"punish" him and then Superman being his guardian angel would
discourage more tries. But could he remain blase about finding out who
was behind the criminal action?
    No, his apathy would likely disappear after some peace and quiet,
she had told herself. He probably just wanted to go home and assure
himself everything was okay.
    Then she felt bad about having pushed him. There must have been
only a few things he felt secure about in life, he'd almost been bombed
out of one of them, and here she was, insisting he look for her typos.
    So she laid aside making any suggestion that the night was still
early. His idea of adjourning until Wednesday evening and including
dinner was just fine. This mess would all be a memory by then.
    It had been nearly 7 when Mrs. O'Shea had accepted their story and
Lois could take Clark home. Too bad he doesn't drink, Lois had thought
while they had headed back to his quiet, unassuming apartment building.
He could have used a brandy to help him sleep, if such things effected
him at all. He claimed not to be hungry, though he made an attempt to
offer her whatever she'd like if she wanted to come in to a place that
probably smelled like a filling station. She had let him off the hook
as gently as she could and then had insisted that he call her if he
wanted to talk about anything, for just any reason. He'd smiled, said
sure, and he seemed to appreciate the hug she gave him. It was times
like these, she told herself, that people needed a lot of hugging. No
one but his parents had been able to do it and they hadn't been there
for him every time...
    Well, I'll fix *that,* she had reminded herself. Soon, very soon...
    The next day she had wondered if he had gotten any sleep, because
even Superman could use a breather. She had no doubt that Clark had
been visited by neighbors to see if he was all right. Then a radio
report the next morning had him busy from around 11 p.m. until well
after midnight rescuing three of five miners from a cave-in in West
Virginia. Two had been discovered dead, how depressing.
    Had he found the time to call his folks Sunday evening before they
read about the arson attempt and got all worried? *I* should have
called them, she thought, disgusted with herself. But then they knew
they could call her if they couldn't reach him. When no call came, that
was all right, too. They had survived Clark giving them bigger worries,
like the time the asteroid threatened the earth and no one knew where
Superman had gone after he breaking it into more manageable pieces,
when he was right there all along, hurt and as confused as everybody
else. No wonder they had rushed into town.
    She had forgotten about that one. There were so many incidents in
her relationship with Clark that made *sense* now...
    Too bad he hadn't felt like sharing any of them with her, but she
could just almost understand the pressure he was under... and see how
carefully she'd have to work on him to accept her as a confidant.
    And try not to think of him as a jerk for not already realizing her
trustworthiness and coming clean with her.
    This time she didn't chastise herself for that thought. If she
couldn't find some humor in this, she'd likely try strangling him the
next time he gave her one of those astonished little looks that said
"Gosh, Lois, you noticed me!" as though it hadn't yet occurred to him
that she might even like him...
    And when he wasn't a jerk, he was just so infuriating sometimes...
and then endearingly guileless, trying to save the world on the one
hand and be an essentially regular guy with plenty of regular guy
faults to overcome on the other.
    Except she couldn't imagine herself falling for just a regular guy
and he had to be shown that, too...
    Monday morning she had hardly seen him except for his rushing in
and out of the office several times to confer with Perry and check his
pile of messages. She had been tempted more than once to stick out her
foot and trip him, and finally got his attention around 1:30 by
throwing a paper clip at him.
    When he had looked up from his Rolodex, surprised, she had asked,
"What are you doing for lunch?"
    "Lunch?"
    "You know, the midday repast? It's late but I'm sure we can find
food somewhere in this city."
    "Oh, that. I'm... working through it, I guess."
    "Can I help?"
    "Help?" his expression had seemed to say, like the idea of asking
for some was new in the world. Who could he have picked that up from?
He sat down to think about it, catch his breath maybe, and then he
jotted down a list of names of companies. He asked her to find out what
she could about them, a computer database search and outlines would be
fine. He could do any city records searches ("I know you hate doing
those") if she found anything that might require that. Naturally, they
were all building contractors based in and around Metropolis--and
totally boring when she would rather have been probing an Intergang
connection, or maybe even Lex Luthor's interest. His most recent
resurfacing had been in that attempt to steal the Etruscan gold exhibit
from the Metropolis History Museum. She'd ruined a perfectly good dress
hanging on to the back of the runaway security van though someone had
rescued her on the fly-by as her grip was about to fail.
    But when Raul had mosied by later that afternoon with one of those
too-friendly looks on his admittedly sweet face, she could claim a
genuine excuse for having absolutely no time to talk to him in the
foreseeable future, maybe not even for the next several lifetimes. She
was planning on getting lost in Records at the Court House, she said,
though she didn't put it quite that way for fear of his gallantly
offering to accompany, protect and gently guide her along...
    Talk about jerks! Clark, Raul makes you look like... well, she had
shaken her head at herself, you *are* him, but still...
    She had made copious notes about the companies, left them on
Clark's desk, and saw they were gone the next morning. On her own desk
she had found a long-stemmed daisy with a note saying "Thanks!" and a
scrupulously drawn smiley face. The remainder of Monday had been
Clarkless, and he didn't call that night, not to bring her up to date
or even to chat. She did receive several calls from her neighbors, who
were gung-ho about forming a vertical neighborhood watch, but she
didn't want to deal with that. She didn't feel endangered, and the
antimanagement conversations they tried to draw her into didn't attract
her. If it had been some other building and some other person's
problem, then maybe she would have felt her justice-seeking
investigative juices stir.
    She had to admit that she simply didn't care very much about her
neighbors. It was a live-and-let-live sort of thing: don't play your
stereo too loudly and I won't put superglue in your door lock. Besides,
the disputes some of the more vociferous tenants were having with
management seemed to be simmering on the back burner and didn't involve
her directly anyhow. There were more important things going on in life.
She had curled up in one of her comfortable designer chairs with a pad
of paper on which to make notes for her novel because it was calling
for revisions. But she wound up gazing at plump Maxine swimming
sedately around her large, otherwise unoccupied tank (if one didn't
count the five red snails and Lois didn't).
    She had watched the news before going to bed and saw that Superman
was helping out at a railroad tanker car derailment in Ohio. When do
you find any time to *sleep,* Clark, let alone call me?
    So she understood why he looked a little tired when, despite all
that, he asked almost hopefully, "Were you waiting for me?"
    "Yes," she smiled, but there simply was no time for a pleasant chat
to reinforce the idea that she was indeed waiting for him, in more ways
than one, but that she could be incredibly patient when called upon to
display that virtue. Patience, she would have argued, was one of her
strong points. "Come on, I think we can still get two chairs together."
    As she had hoped, two were free on the far side of the table, and
since she entered first, Clark wound up sitting between Raul and her,
possibly forestalling any approach by the smitten young man. Not that
she wanted Clark to do anything, but if Raul thought he might, being as
large as Clark was and Raul not knowing him well...
    Moments later, Laura Sidbury snagged the seat Raul had saved, but
he didn't notice the move, his soulful eyes filled with the woman with
whom he claimed to be falling in love. Laura said "Hi," distracting
him, and he smiled at her, pleasantly distant.
    Lois tried to listen to the room's general chatter and catch
gossipy tidbits, but that wound down quickly as Perry entered, worked
his way through and commandeered his usual chair. He straightened the
papers he had brought along in a come-on, let's-get-moving manner as
more staffers rushed in and found places to sit. There were chairs left
over though today, no one had to stand. Perry was pulling reporters,
assistants and photographers off the various Slime Monster-related
stories and returning them to more regular news, so they didn't
necessarily have to be here. She intended herself to be among those,
starting this morning.
    She was thinking about how to help Perry believe that reassigning
her would be his own idea, only half listening to his review of the
news highlights for the day, when she heard the word "Superman." She
glanced secretly in Clark's direction as Perry said his sources had
finally confirmed Dick's claim that Superman had helped the UN deliver
food to the starving capital of West Bougainvillea on Sunday; the
reporter could now go with the story.
Hmm, Lois thought, that could explain the Spiderman t-shirt Clark
had worn Sunday afternoon: he had been too tired to think of how it
would appear. Still, he had looked cheerful and wide awake. Maybe he
did simply like the shirt.
    As she knew he rarely deal with international news for the paper,
Clark didn't need any particular visible reaction to the UN story. What
did you expect? she asked herself, that he'd claim "Yeah, I did it, it
was nothing" and offer to sign autographs? Like Martha had practically
come right out and said, and Lois had figured out for herself on one of
her sit-and-thinks at Kent's Hole: down deep inside, Clark was who he
was and wanted to be; Superman just happened to be how he used his
special abilities to help people, and he was doing that a lot lately--
to the point of exhaustion again?
    If you fall asleep right here, Clark, Lois thought, how am I going
to hold you down? She considered grasping his hand, but not only would
that startle him, it would look decidedly odd. She didn't care about
the rumor mill (indeed, she'd started some rumors just to observe their
evolution), but she wondered now how conscious Clark was about such
things--if he realized them at all. He probably didn't want to draw
attention to himself unless he was prepared for it. So she didn't touch
him, but she considered discretely prodding him if it looked like he
was about to nod off.
    Perry started around the table, asking for updates and progress
reports, giving encouraging smiles or stop-messing-around tilts of the
eyebrow, and handing out new assignments. When he got to Raul, he
complemented the reporter's wrap up of the neighborhood saga in
Monday's edition.
    "I couldn't have done so well without the wonderful assistance of
Ms. Lois Lane," he claimed--no, Lois thought, cooed. How silly...
    She noticed that two staffers hid smiles behind their hands; most,
including Clark, were smart enough to keep straight faces.
    "That's all well and good--"
    "What is the next assignment you have for us?"
    Nearly everyone at the table perked up at the "us" part of Raul's
gallant question. Most of them glanced quickly at Lois (but not Clark,
who was concentrating on his notepad and something that looked like
Chinese). She set a mild-mannered expression on her face. Thanks,
Clark, for teaching me that; I guess I need you, too.
    Perry didn't nibble at the bait. "Laura's heard that the Bank of
Metropolis is trying another take over round. Smaller banks this time,
community banks."
    Laura leaned forward. She was a pretty young woman who had an MBA
and enjoyed reading the Wall Street Journal almost as much as she did
busting criminal business activities. She nodded at Perry and looked at
Raul. "The BoM has its eyes on the People's Bank of Rinconcito, which
has done a good job providing for its community, and I need to know
what the locals think about the possibility that the biggest bank in
town might try to swallow it up."
    "But I know nothing about banking," Raul said, casting eye cries
for help at Lois, who hoped he realized she was ignoring him utterly
and he should grab instead for the life preserver Laura was offering.
    "That's all right," Laura said. "I know the banks and you know the
people. That's what I need."
    "So you'll be working together on this," Perry said in a "that's
final" tone, but a tone that didn't indicate to Lois that he was about
to launch into an Elvis metaphor, Raul hadn't pushed him that far.
Perry turned to the next staff member. "Now, Duane, about this weasel
story--"
    "But Lois and I were..."
    Perry silenced Raul with a stern paternal look. Close, Lois
thought, but still no Elvis.
    Lois would never argue that Raul didn't learn some things fast. The
young man cleared his throat and said in a small voice, "I will be
pleased to work with the intelligent Ms. Sidbury..."
    Laura smiled. Lois doubted she had any designs on Raul, but one
never knew. Laura was single and rumor had it that she was a tiger in
her private life, but a discrete, picky tiger who probably wanted Raul
for nothing more than his considerable knowledge of El Rinconcito. Lois
wished them both well, glad to have Raul off her hands at last because
he'd probably fall for Laura next.
    Then she noticed that Clark was looking at her secretly--and that
he looked away, all innocence, but she'd caught that twinkle in his
eye. He was feeling all right, she thought; and he probably wouldn't
fall asleep, which made her feel more secure. She was sure he still
needed her copious help in many ways, but not at the moment to keep big
secrets under wraps.
    Perry continued around the table and confirmed what Lois had
suspected, the news biz was returning to its normal level of turmoil.
He even made only one reference to Elvis, and that was of the mild
"Great shades..." variety when Victor McCoy mentioned the rumor that
some of Lex Luthor's associates had been seen in the elegantly restored
Green Meadows subdivision south of Metropolis. Perry reminded Vic that
while the rumor was interesting, more than just rumors were needed for
a publishable story. Get pictures, he said, or witnesses so that
Falcone could sketch out what they had seen.
    When he reached Clark, Perry smiled and said, "What did I tell
you?"
    "They're swarming out of the woodwork, just like you said."
    Contractors of dubious repute, Lois thought.
    Perry nodded. "It looks like you're going to need some help."
    "Lois helped me yesterday and..." He looked at her, eyebrows
raised.
    Ah! He's been thinking about this, too! She snagged the ball and
raced down the field with it. "...and Clark will need another hand with
a stick in it to beat the story into shape. I still want to see if
Singher got his bombers from Intergang." She had mentioned this at
yesterday's budget meeting, too, but Perry had eased her off of it in
favor of awaiting Clark's input. Lois hadn't pressed because Jaxon and
Black were still not talking; her computer search on them had turned up
a big, fat zero; and their lawyer had no associations to be suspicious
of. So there was nowhere to go on it yet, not that she could admit to
Perry, anyhow. Gad, she thought, what if they were run-of-the-mill
hoods Singher had picked up off the street? Where was the story in
that?
    "That really was something," Perry shook his head and then smiled.
"Pulling a poorly thought out stunt like that. Intergang--*if* they're
involved," and he shook his finger gently at no one in particular who
happened to look like Lois "*if*--why, they must be dredging the bottom
of the barrel for leadership. But it figures, considering how many of
their management team we've put in jail..."
    Appreciative laughter filled the room. Many of the reporters around
the table had helped reveal the inner workings of the once-mysterious
crime syndicate.
    "The DA thinks he may be on to them again, too," Clark said. "I
found out late yesterday afternoon that he wants me and several of my
neighbors in his office first thing tomorrow morning. I don't see
getting away all day."
    Tomorrow? Lois thought. Wednesday? His day off? The day before the
evening dinner and cookie baking and who knew what?
    Lois was almost certain she had figured out the "what." She had
thought it odd that he had pointed out two things: that they could talk
that evening and that the next day was her day off and she could relax.
Why would he worry about her relaxing--other than it was something a
friend would think about--he'd never worried about it out loud before
if only because she couldn't be forced to relax and he knew that. But
now he had mentioned it. Why would he think of that, unless he thought
she'd be tense, upset, and what could make her tense and upset about a
simple chat at dinner?
    Unless, of course, he didn't plan it to be simple, that he thought
that something about the time was right--moreover that *she was
ready*--and he was going to tell her the truth about himself, tell her
all, and he believed she'd need her day off to think about it...
    If she hadn't been in a big hot bath full of slippery bubbles when
the idea had occurred to her Sunday evening, she would have jumped up
and shouted hallelujah!
    Perry said, "Dawis wants a coup so bad he can taste it."
    "He didn't put it that way. He sounded *quite* concerned and wants
to be *extremely* thorough."
    "Well, of course he'd say all that in front of an audience and
particularly in front of a good reporter. God, I love election year! It
looks like we can pull Dan in on this, too."
    Dan Gibbons perked up. "Well, you know, he announced last month
that he's going to crack down hard on terrorism. Remember Mr. Stern's
editorial? 'Dawis Dumps on Crime'? And how Dawis called terrorism 'the
scourge of today's major American cities'?"
    Lois noticed that she wasn't the only one at the table to smile at
this. The presence of their own Superman pretty much precluded run-of-
the-mill terrorism any more.
    "That's another point," Perry nodded. "Mr. Stern likes Dawis."
    "True, and he's an okay DA," Dan continued, "Except, of course,
he's forgotten that Metropolis hasn't been scourged for quite a while.
The Slime Monster was terrible, yes, but it wasn't a terrorist; I
didn't get that feeling from it, anyhow. It *was* way too big for Dawis
to tackle, bring down or even explain. And I haven't been able to come
up with any more than Lois has about anyone in city government trying
to find out who... imported the thing in here, either, if anyone did."
    "Actually," Lois cut in, "Betty Reed--she's a detective with
Metropolice--she called me yesterday morning, after the budget meeting.
She read my Sunday sidebar and she's interested in finding Councilman
Smith now. I gave her what I didn't put in print, and I know she'll
keep in touch."
    "That's good," Perry said. "If *she* decides there was an outer
space connection, *we* can mention that angle." He looked pleased but
then he could, Lois thought, he'd boxed up her options. Betty was
highly unlikely to think "outer space" even though Lois had dropped
hints (like star maps and the space station's position) right and left.
But until she, Lois, got real proof of the supposition, she'd have to
sit on it. Perry continued, "So we have several fronts to report this
story on. It's a sad thing you had to be the only victim of terrorism
that the DA could find in the last month, Clark, but it looks like you
have an in and I want you to stay with it."
    "I'll take a lot of notes."
    "Good. With Lois's help, you and she can probably wrap up the
contractors story by tomorrow as well." Then he turned to the next
reporter and the meeting ended within ten minutes.
    Back at their desks, Lois and Clark made quick plans to get on the
road. Lois said she would drive since she was part of his story now.
    Clark protested. "But the bus is so *exciting*--"
    "Take the bus wearing these heels?" She pointed. "You've got to be
kidding."
    He looked down at her fashionable feet. "Those are nice, but I like
those walking shoes you have, too."
    "They're in the car," she whispered. "I'll put them on if we go to
any construction sites."
    "We probably will. I took two complete tours yesterday but had to
beg off a third one because the thrill was just too much for me."
    And, according to what Lois had heard, he'd had to be Superman for
some typical emergency. "I thought you loved that stuff."
    "About as much as you do. It was all right when I was on to
something fresh, but all these contractors who are calling us are
trying to prove how honest they are and, frankly, it's boring now
because by and large the *are* honest."
    "Well, we can get bored together, and cover twice the ground in
half the time. I can catch up with you today and wrap it up tomorrow
while you're busy with the DA, okay?"
    "I think that's the only way to approach it."
    She liked it when he agreed with her. He was much better at being
agreeable than she was, she admitted, though it wasn't *that* much of a
strain for her to try to be. If she could just get the nuances
straight...
    She retrieved her purse and matched his step walking toward the
elevator. "Where first?"
    "Hey, I usually ask that..." but he smiled. As they awaited the
elevator, he pulled out a neat sheaf of papers from his jacket pocket.
She recognized that the top sheets were her notes with his own small,
neat annotations.
    "I think we can just see a sampling of them. Elizabeth Parker at
Parker's Construction down on South Elm was eager to talk and she had a
good sales pitch. We can drop in on her first."
    "I remember her, she started up and runs the company herself. I
thought that was nice. I hope she isn't a criminal."
    "The angle that she's a woman running the company is one we can
write about if we decide to."
    "Then it's a good thing I'm going with you: she may prefer to talk
to another woman about the business," and, she thought, to Clark about,
say, dinner, but she knew he wouldn't let such advances get far. He'd
act polite, make no commitments, promise nothing, maybe even pretend
(if he was pretending) that he didn't understand any subtle flirting.
Of course, it would be nice if he turned such proposals down flat,
saying his girlfriend would get upset. Without that excuse to fall back
on, Clark had proven to be wishy-washy in the past. Maybe now, though,
the wishy would wash right out and she'd get to witness it.
    The elevator door opened, the elevator was empty. Oh, good, she
thought as she entered first and turned and smiled at Clark, who
returned it as though he also thought that their next few moments alone
could be long, meaningful ones.
    But then she saw Jimmy rushing toward them, waving. Clark caught
the door before it could close again. Jimmy slid in.
    Clark asked. "Got a big assignment?"
    "Sure do! Perry wants me to go with you. It was that or take
pictures of bank buildings and people talking about them. One building
looks just like the next one to me, but maybe the buildings you two
will look at will be more interesting. Maybe they'll be in the middle
of knocking one down or blowing one up or..."
    Jimmy babbled on, displaying a finite architectural acumen. Lois
thought it a not-too-clever cover for spying on them and maybe Perry's
aiding and abetting him in the assignment. She looked at Clark. He was
looking at her. They sighed in unison, which, she reflected, proved he
really had been thinking what she was.
    In Lois's Jeep, Jimmy sprawled out on the back seat and then sat up
and changed his topic to trying to interest Clark in the many pockets
in his new photographer's vest.
    Better you than me on this one, pal, Lois thought as she made it
clear she preferred to concentrate on driving. She noticed via her
rearview mirror that Jimmy kept glancing down between the front seats
to see if either of them were reaching for the other's hand to hold.
Surely Clark saw that, too. With all the attention, she doubted that he
would make that move. He'd bravely confront the Slime Monster or Lex
Luthor, or both on the same bill, but showing such a more-than-friendly
gesture before a big-eyed, bigger-mouthed audience was a bit much even
for the gentleman of steel. Which, when she thought about it, was
endearing.
    As they headed south toward's Parker's Construction, though, he
made it clear that his mind had been working over time. "Lois, does
Jimmy sound a little hoarse to you?"
    "Ah? Yes, he does..."
    "Hoarse?" Jimmy asked, his voice clear and strong. "Like... a farm
horse?"
    "No, like a coming-down-with-a-cold-and-straining-your-throat
hoarse."
    Lois nodded. "He could use something to drink."
    "And eat, too, to keep up his strength."
    "Oh, yeah!" Jimmy brightened. He hawked and cleared his throat
dramatically. "*That* kind of hoarse! I've been feeling a little weak
lately, ohhhh..."
    Clark went through his pockets, gathered together some money, and
handed it over to Jimmy, who had collapsed back and was straining to
look pale. Lois pulled into a convenience store in the next block. She
and Clark both assured the young man that he should take his time.
Jimmy rushed away into the store.
    Lois shook her head at him, then looked at Clark. "Clever."
    Clark turned to her. "Thanks. I just need a minute or two to talk
to you."
    "About tomorrow."
    "Exactly. Dan and Perry were probably right about the DA wanting to
crack down on terrorism and me being the only terroree he can find, so
to speak. I have no idea when I'll be able to escape that meeting, and
then there's a regular neighborhood association meeting that night,
too. I'd forgotten about it, and I really should attend if I can
because of what happened."
    "I understand." She looked down, saw his right hand and that he
raised it to meet hers half way. That felt good. "You have great
neighbors. I didn't realize you were so involved with them. I used to
think your life was more like mine, mostly taken up with the Planet--
and of course your parents..."
"Yeah, well..." he said, humble but probably not realizing it.
    What else could he say, she asked herself. Even if one didn't count
the tight blue suit and what he did in it, Clark had a full, complex
life. He's *much* more interesting than Superman--No, that wasn't the
way to put it. It was more that his Superman side was beginning to...
dim in comparison with the real person.
    And now, too, he was noticing that she was noticing, which
explained why sometimes he looked surprised--and confused maybe, since
he must have become accustomed to her practically ignoring him.
    You're being too hard on yourself, girl, she told herself; I bet he
wouldn't agree with any of that. Unless cornered, threatened and
ordered to tell the truth and not be so polite...
    Yet, despite all this, he was still romantically inclined toward
her... Which was so sweet that somebody here in this car, she thought,
needed a good wise-up smack.
    "I guess I wouldn't want to miss that meeting either."
    "You can come if you want, but you've probably had your fill of
that kind of thing..."
    "Oh, I don't know. This one I can just sit back and watch. I won't
have to be a reporter unless we decide there's something newsworthy. I
know you don't need another friend there, you have plenty, but--"
    "But you're a special friend--who doesn't *have* to come..."
    He was so concerned that she'd be bored to tears, but the word
"special" was what sat up and waved. "Okay, I won't *promise* I'll
come, but just in case, where is it being held?"
    In the Merkle Avenue Unitarian Church community room at seven, and
he added that the North Metropolis Tibetan Buddhist Society would meet
there the next night if she'd like to attend that, too.
    "Oh? You think I'm interested in Buddhism?"
    "Considering your martial arts practice and your... your sense of
serenity lately..."
    He'd noticed "Serenity?" she said, whatever that was, and not all
the blatant faux pas?
    "Or equanimity--and this is *not* a complaint."
    "I'm not taking it that way." No, it was a confirmation that she
was heading in the right direction after all and could relax just as
she had been demanding of herself that she do. That natural flow she'd
assured Martha that she would work with, the subtlety and grace... as
nonsensical as all that had seemed of late when things backfired...
    But he had seen something in the way she was and labeled it
serenity--and, she told herself, a serene person notices more! He
thinks that's why I'm acting this way, he'll get used to me noticing
him and he won't be surprised anymore... Serenity rules! Work on it!
    "Actually," she said quietly, making sure the smile she added
looked natural. It felt natural... "I'm flattered that you've noticed.
Lucy wrote to me about a self-discovery class she took at Molly's place
and gave me all the lurid details," which was mostly true, though her
sister had mentioned it in part of a long e-mail message and not in
depth. Lois had also thought it a yawn at the time. "I've been trying
to practice some of the principles."
    "It's made a difference, little things don't seem set you off any
more. Big things..."
    "Like Slime Monster tentacles smothering my condo...."
    "But that was understandable and you were tired, and even then you
got over it quickly. And before that, like... when that fellow
commandeered the tank, escaped from prison and kidnapped you after
shooting up your engine," and he motioned toward the front of her jeep.
"You were incredibly calm throughout all that."
    The admiration in his voice was impossible to miss even though, as
she recalled, he had witnessed most of the event as well as rescued her
while being Superman, and Clark shouldn't have known how she had
reacted through that. No doubt sometimes he got confused with what he
was and was not supposed to have seen. She herself had shrugged off the
adventure, all in a day's work, when reporting on it to her friends and
the world. In private she had been plenty mad, particularly when her
insurance company had balked at paying for the engine work. She had
needed a few hugs herself then.
    It also occurred to her that the kidnapping had happened in June.
He thinks I've been serene since then? Or maybe even *before* that?
Have I? What did he say... there in the kitchen when he was looking for
the wok... something about keeping my promises since the first of the
year, getting better at that... He thinks... Oh my gosh, she thought.
After that prison escapee mess had calmed down, he had invited her to
dinner at his place the following Saturday night but she had declined
the offer--politely!--because of having already committed to spending
the weekend with Lucy.
    Has he been trying to tell me the truth about himself for some time
now and things just keep getting in the way?
    She realized her mind was wandering. She let the light of
recognition come to her eyes, as though the memory of the kidnapping
had escaped her temporarily. "Oh, yes, I remember that. You looked for
me everywhere."
    "When you were practically right under our noses."
    In the basement of a deli down the street from the Daily Planet
building. At least she hadn't starved during her day-long captivity.
"It's amazing the things one suddenly realizes that have been right
there all along. Self discovery is a wonderful thing, Clark," as were
certain other forms of discovery--like slap-a-girl-in-the-face-with-
the-truth forms of discovery--which he didn't have to know about at the
moment.
    "It's made it easier to talk to you, too--not that we've had much
*chance*..." He nodded toward the convenience store and Jimmy bursting
through the door and rushing toward them.
    "Umm," Lois said. "Well, I'll pay for the next snack stop."
    Jimmy held a large, capped and strawed cup of soda in one hand and
a brown paper bag in the other. He put the bag on the roof, opened the
driver's side back door, grabbed the bag, tossed it inside, followed it
himself, closed the door, and said "Whew! I got some Double Fudge
*Mint* Crunch bars, Lois! Want one?"
    "Mint? Are you sure?" she asked as she started up the Jeep again
and began to pull out of the parking lot.
    He confirmed it and handed the left-over change and two candy bars
to Clark, who pocketed the former and put the latter in the storage
container between the front bucket seats. "They're mint, all right," he
said.
    "That's a good omen, they're hard to find. Maybe we can come back
here..." to ditch Jimmy again. But work beckoned. "Clark. What are we
getting into at this Parker place?"
    He outlined it briefly: "We'll identify ourselves, they'll be glad
to meet us and happy at our expose of Singher, who everyone else in the
industry thought was a criminal--though oddly no one thought to throw
him out of their business association. They, on the other hand, give a
fair day's work for a fair day's pay and would we like to see some of
it."
    "Sounds like *real* fun..." Jimmy groaned and made a funny noise
with his straw.
    While Clark tried to calm him, asking what the pockets in the left-
hand side of his vest held, Lois tuned them out, watched the road, and
let her mind wander a bit. So, Wednesday night was out. She'd have to
suggest changing it to Saturday night and remind him that they both had
Sunday off, though he might think of it himself. Saturday was such a
long time away... but it was beginning to look like he had an agenda of
some kind so it might be a good idea to play along, to give him a
chance to prove he wasn't really a jerk, just a victim of poor timing.
    The visit to Parker's Construction went precisely as he had
predicted. Also, Parker was pleased to talk to Lois, a sister in the
world of big business. Clark stood aside as Lois collected details in
the company's business office, and during the obligatory visit to the
construction site he pointed out things for Jimmy to take pictures of.
He acted, she thought, like he had tagged along for the learning
experience, when in reality he had stopped doing that only a few months
after he'd become her partner. Lois, who under torture might have
admitted to knowing little about the construction business, noted the
questions he quietly slipped in and his follow ups, and was sure she
would use variations on them the next day when she was on her own.
Parker eyed Clark appreciatively during his talkative periods, but, if
the site she escorted them through in hard hats was any indication, she
was a far too busy woman to pursue the interest.
    They were on the road again by 11, heading toward the next
business, Suki's Samarai Reconstructors and Kung Fu Dojo. "I can't
believe that name," Lois said, "but they checked out okay with the
Better Business Bureau."
    "More local color."
    "This is *so exciting...*" Jimmy yawned. "And it's wearing me out
and it's nearly noon and--"
    Lois pulled into the first supermarket they spotted and gave him a
twenty. "Don't spend it all in one place."
    "I won't!"
    "And don't fill up, we can have lunch after seeing this next
place."
    "Great!"
    Seconds later they were alone. "You'd think he could do more than
take pictures and eat..."
    "He's just young," Clark said, then he asked, "Are you busy again
Saturday night?"
    Bingo! "No, unless I'm busy with you." Did that sound encouraging
enough? If not, she told herself, add this: "I love it when you take
the initiative sometimes, Clark."
    He blinked. "You do?"
    "Yes, it's hard to have to think of everything all the time. I
mean, I may *look* like I enjoy being in charge--well, actually, I do,
but sometimes it's nice to relax... So, we can have our Wednesday
dinner Saturday night then?"
    "I won't have much time to prepare anything, but I'd like to try
it. 7 o'clock?"
    "That's fine. Then we can both relax on Sunday and maybe have a
picnic, hmm?"
    "There's an idea. We'll see how things go Saturday."
    He thinks I'll be in shock, probably thinks I'll run away,
screaming into the night. I certainly might have before. "I'm sure
things will go just fine. What are you thinking of making so I can
bring wine."
    "Hmm, cookies and wine..." but he smiled.
    "*Dinner* and wine. We can make cookies some other time."
    "Okay. How about pasta? I can put it together in the morning and
then heat it up when I get home."
    Yes, with that heat vision. No, he'd prefer the challenge of the
old-fashioned oven. "That sounds good. Can I come early and make the
salad? You know I'm good at that."
    "Sure. You can set the table, too."
    "Umm. So pasta. A white or light red wine I think..."
    "Fine with me, I don't know anything about wines."
    "You, Charlie the bartender versus the Toasters?"
    "Oh, that. I memorized The Bartender's Guide for that job."
    "Sure, and traveling all over the world was no help at all..."
    "It wasn't, vineyards weren't high on my itinerary. In fact, they
weren't on any of my itineraries. The only vineyard I know anything
about is the one Mr. Dobson is nursing along back in Smallville, but I
hear it's doing all right."
    "Wine in Kansas?"
    "Yeah, I know, weird... but exciting. More exciting than me in some
ways."
    "Oh?" to tickle him out a little more. "I don't believe it."
    "I should warn you. I can be quite a boring guy, Lois, when I'm..."
carefully "not on the job..."
    The Superman job? she wondered. Probably, and an unpaid one at
that. No doubt there were times he wished life were more safe and
boring. "I have noticed you're a lot more domestic than I realized--but
like it or not Perry and I have turned you into an investigative
reporter and that's not boring--"
    "No, it's 90 percent research--"
    "And 10 percent terror, sometimes more, and you're stuck with it,
even though you'd rather be writing, oh, fuzzy, heart-warming, human-
interest stories like that theater one you surprised us with."
    "There are certainly times I'd like to avoid the terror. You get
into enough trouble for both of us."
    "Not lately."
    "True, but it makes me wonder sometimes why I don't put you to
sleep because I don't get drunk or zonked out on drugs,"
    You can't, she thought.
    "no fast cars, no fast... well, you're the fastest woman I know--
next to Cat, but..."
    "Yes?" I'm *not* helping you on this one...
    He didn't need it, he hardly missed a beat. He said simply: "I'm
glad you're not like her."
    "And I'm glad you put it that way. I wish it were Saturday evening
already."
    "Me, too... but I can use a few calm, pedestrian days in between.
After this morning, things couldn't get much rougher..."
    There was a lead in if she ever heard one. He was, she told
herself, opening up, sharing with her. Insisting on Friday night that
he do more of that had been a brilliant move--but *careful,* girl...
"Did something happen? Is it why you were a little late this morning?"
    "Well, my landlord knocked on my door at seven sharp--I didn't even
know he got up that early--and politely informed me that I had until
the end of the month to vacate."
    That made her sit up. "WHAT!?!?"
    "Yep." He looked so calm, no doubt just as he had looked upon
getting the news. Calmly thunderstruck, probably. Had it been me, she
thought, she'd have been screaming, she just knew it. He said, "I did
consider giving you a call so you could come over and give him what
for..."
    "You should have! How dare he!? You're probably the best tenant
he's ever had!" and she growled in what she hoped was the direction of
his landlord's no doubt slimy pit of a home.
    "Yes, well, maybe. Mrs. Wallace is probably a better tenant, seeing
as she's never been broken into. After I got over the shock, I invited
him in and showed him where the gasoline had spilled and how I'd
cleaned up, there's no more smell or anything. Then I reminded him I
signed a new year-long lease in July and according to it, I'm supposed
to give him 60 business days' notice in writing by registered mail, and
he's supposed to do the same, or all kinds of penalties come into
play."
    "Don't tell me you memorized your lease..."
    "No, but I've read it. Haven't you read yours?"
    "I'm not even sure where mine is... No, it's in my file cabinet--
that doesn't matter. Did he back down?"
    "After I added that I still had the registered letters he sent me
and Mrs. Wallace last spring telling us how he was going to fix up the
place. He raised the rent on the basis of that, but the only replaced
the rain gutter on the south side of the building. *I've* done more
repairs this year alone than he has in the three years I've lived
there."
"And one of the repairs he was going to do was..."
    They said in unison "Put screens on the windows."
    He continued: "It was right there in writing, I offered to show him
in case he'd forgotten. Then I pointed out that I'd have to report that
he was evicting me to the neighborhood association--which is when I
remembered about that meeting--and he's frightened of us because last
year we made him clean up another building he owns in the area. He
should have done it himself, he's making money on it now."
    Who needed Superman when they had all those neighbors? "So that's
when he backed down."
    "Faster than a speeding bullet. We're great friends again, but his,
ah, visit still made me late."
    "And it had to be a strain, no wonder you looked tired."
    That made him pause and give her one of those "you noticed?" looks,
but she didn't feel like strangling him because he recovered quickly
and smiled a little. It wouldn't do to strangle him after that. "Maybe
I'll get some sleep tomorrow while the DA is droning on and on..."
    "I don't think I want to go with you to that one."
    "I should hope not, there's at least two more contractors to be
visited."
    "Great."
    "Well, it is, it's very important. Our readers are demanding to
know all this..."
    "I think they turn to the funny pages first, I do..."
    "Me, too, most times..."
    Jimmy returned with more junk food to share and they headed west
this time. Suki's Samarai Reconstructors and Kung Fu Dojo was a
storefront with windows painted off-white, a stylized circle of dragon
and tiger on both windows and on the door, and evidence behind the
long, one-story building, of construction supplies in a fenced-off
yard.
    Lois said, "It doesn't look very busy. Maybe they have classes in
the evening."
    "I'd like to learn kung fu," Jimmy said and he demonstrated a few
fancy moves Lois thought he had probably seen on TV. "It would really
impress Angela, and I could protect her if we went out on dangerous
assignments together!"
    "I'm sure they'll be glad to sign you right up," Clark said and he
patted Jimmy's shoulder, obviously in hopes of calming the young man so
they wouldn't make a poor impression when they entered the dojo.
    As they approached the front door, they heard the sudden sounds of
a fire engine careening in their direction. Lois had noticed it moments
earlier but, like any long-time city resident, she had ignored it since
she wasn't in her car and didn't have to wonder if she should pull
over. She had another assignment anyway, and it was probably just a
false alarm. They turned to watch the large white vehicle careen off of
Baker Ave and pass them heading west, followed seconds later by two
ambulances and the sounds of yet another fire engine.
    "Smoke..." Clark said.
    "What smoke?"
    "Oh, there, I see it now," Lois pointed, for Jimmy's sake. There
was a small, dark, billowing shape just showing over the western
treetops.
    "Well, West Metro High School is in that direction," Jimmy said. "I
wonder if the students are ransacking the library again? Ha! It could
be the food, too, we heard rumors about that when I was at Central
Metro--"
    "Jimmy!" Lois growled.
    "Oh, sorry..." he cringed. "You don't want to hear about the rats,
either, do you..."
    This was, Lois thought, no time for levity. Clark would probably
want to check this out in person. Indeed, he was trying to draw her
attention. He was turned toward her, his mouth open, an excuse to
disappear being formulated. "Lois--"
    "Clark! This Suki's place, it's a natural for me to take, I'll know
if they're a *real* dojo or not and if they know a claw hammer from...
from Claude Raines. I can keep them busy while you call in to see if
Perry has anyone covering that fire or if it's a false alarm or what."
    He looked surprised and then as though he realized he shouldn't,
that it was a perfectly reasonable suggestion. He closed his mouth then
opened it again. "Ah, okay, that's a good idea."
    "And I think I saw a phone booth right around the corner," she
pointed, indicating the direction from which they had come.
    "But don't you have a cell phone?" Jimmy asked.
    "It's broken!" she snapped, then sighed at herself and touched
Jimmy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I keep forgetting to recharge the battery
and I'm mad at *myself*--*okay?*" and it *better* be...
    "Oh, yeah, sure!" and Jimmy nodded quickly.
    "I don't recall seeing a phone booth back that way." Clark motioned
vaguely. "But I'll... go check."
    "Take your time. I know it's hard to get through to Perry, he might
even be at lunch already..." which was why Perry had Laurie, Mrs.
O'Shea or any number of others to make decisions or pass information
along, but that didn't matter now.
    "Ah, right..." and he gave her such a look, which she interpreted
as him wondering why she hadn't instead insisted that they abandon
questioning these silly contractors, all pile back into the jeep and
chase after the fire trucks.
    But it was only a brief look before he trotted off to find out that
she had actually seen a dumpster and a stack of wooden pallets down
that alley. Those would probably give him enough cover to change
clothes.
    He stopped at the corner, looked back at them and pointed into the
alley. "There's no--"
    "Well, just look for one!" Do I have to do the thinking for us
*both*?
    Hmm, maybe...
    "Okay..." said as though he had decided that if his finding a
telephone would keep her on the current investigation it was worth the
search. Bright boy. If he had pretended that, yes, there was a
telephone booth there and she had called him on it... now he could say
he had looked high and low and regretted wasting the time, and they
would return to the Planet and find, what luck, that Superman had saved
the day.
    "Lois, can't we go see if there's a fire?"
    "No." She turned and grabbed the handle of the office door.
    "But it's a *fire*, Lois! With really great pictures to take, I'm
*sure* of it!"
    "Jimmy, if you've seen one fire you've seen'em all--"
    "But *Superman* could turn up!"
    Seen one superhero, seen... "Jimmy, if Perry tells Clark we should
cover it, I'll get us over there so fast Superman will wish he'd
hitched a ride with us, okay?"
    Jimmy's shoulders slumped. "Okay..."
    "Don't be disappointed, this could be fun."
    "Yeah, I *bet*..." Then he whispered as she opened the door, "I've
heard of them, they have this act. They were supposed to show it live
on TV a couple of months ago, but they got rained out, and then there
was something wrong about the fang or wang or kang something of the
building, so they brought in a wrecking ball instead. Boooring..."
    "Maybe it was the feng shui. It's sort of a combination of, oh,
astrology and building position. But if TV didn't get it, *you'll* get
the great pictures everyone else missed, see?"
    "Oh..." He brightened. "Hey, yeah!"
    "And you're a good photographer, so relax and let *me* do all the
talking."
    Suki's front office was spartan. There were spindly palm plants on
either side of the entry, an uncomfortable-looking bench and a small
coffee table. On one wall was a Japanese painting of reeds and on the
opposite wall were framed black-and-white photographs of masters and
students, all in white gis, black belts and hardhats, standing in front
of the remains of a brick building. Jimmy wandered over to look at
them.
    Before her, sitting at a nondescript metal desk, was an elderly
Asian man wearing glasses and a well-worn white gi. He was consulting
slips of paper and entering figures into a ledger. He also appeared to
be totally unaware that he had customers despite the windchime that had
rung merrily upon their entry. Lois stepped up to the desk. He failed
to notice this except that he did adjust his glasses. She cleared her
throat and said, "Sir?"
    In one move he looked up, his eyes popped, he jumped back almost
out of the chair, and turned to his left and screamed something that
sounded like Japanese in the direction of a door in the wall behind
him. It reminded her of the shouting she heard in busy Asian take-out
food kitchens except it had an agitated edge.
    By now Jimmy had rushed to her defense, which he seemed to
interpret as standing somewhat behind her in case of attack from the
rear. She told the man, "Sir, I didn't mean to startle you..."
    He regarded her with suspicion.
    Fortunately, within seconds a much younger man also dressed in a gi
appeared through that door behind the desk. He said something in
Japanese to the old man, who didn't seem at all appeased, then he
smiled at Lois and Jimmy. "May we help you, ma'am, sir?" he asked in
perhaps slightly New Jersey-accented English.
    "I'm Lois Lane, I'm a reporter with the Daily Planet, and this is
Jimmy Olsen, my photographer." She noted that the young man nodded but
did not approach. She continued, "We're colleagues of Clark Kent, and
he received word that you wished to talk about your company..."
    "Ah, yes! I am glad that he could send you! I am Suki." He stepped
right up and they shook hands. "I own Suki's Samarai Reconstructors and
Kung Fu Dojo. This is my Uncle Tan..."
    Uncle Tan said, "Pleased to meet you," in a voice deeper than his
shout had indicated possible. He didn't look particularly pleased and
he didn't move to shake hands, which Lois didn't regret.
    "Yes..." she said, happy to concentrate on this Suki person
instead. "So you do contracting *and* run a dojo?"
    "Yes, we diversified last year. When times are slow in one we can
concentrate on the other. We used to average one contracting job a
month, usually publicity stunts for the builders, but they paid well
just the same. Of course in the last two weeks that portion of our
business has been very busy, but not too busy to show you around," he
smiled, "and to show you that not all contractors are criminals."
    "Oh, we never intended the public to think that, but they should be
informed when there are fraudulent business people preying on their
wallets and not caring about safety."
    "Imminently reasonable."
    "I think so. You have an interesting angle on the business. I'd
like to see your dojo."
    "Certainly! I have to be on a job site at noon, but there's plenty
of time to show you around here--and you might like to go to the site,
too. Mr. Olsen, you may be interested to know that our hard style team
will be there."
    "Hard style? What's that mean? Like bricks, breaking bricks? And is
there an easy style, like throwing bowls of... batter pudding?"
    "Jimmy!"
    "But Ms. Lane," Suki chuckled, "humor is the essence of martial
arts."
    "Yeah, Lois!" Jimmy said smugly and then looked at the businessman.
"And *she's* the martial artist, not me..."
    Suki considered Lois with the interest of one artist for another,
and she admitted that she had studied a little Tai Kwan Do and Tai Chi.
Before Jimmy could proudly correct that to "a lot!" she dug her
fingernails into his arm while apparently in the process of simply
gathering his full attention. "Get out your flash in case Mr. Suki
allows us to take pictures."
    Suki shrugged and said there wasn't that much to see, all of
today's students were out at the site, but he showed them around the
dojo anyhow. Lois asked some questions about it, but it looked like a
typical dojo, with mats and sparring equipment hung away on the walls
between the mirrors, a well polished wooden floor, and a high ceiling
that allowed for stick practice. Outside in the back, he showed them
the fenced-in area where construction equipment was stored under cover.
She took a peek here and there for appearance's sake and Jimmy snapped
off a few pictures. This looked like nothing more or less than a small
business doing well. Probably Clark would have thought of some good
questions, but she could easily say, "About this site you keep
mentioning..."
    The man checked his watch. "Yes, we can go there now. Do you care
to walk..." He noticed her shoes.
    She suggested they go in her Jeep and talk on the way. Suki was
agreeable. As they left, she tore a sheet from her notepad, wrote out
the address of the site for Clark, and left it with Uncle Tan, who
looked relieved that they would stop disturbing him.
    "That's a good idea," Suki said after the office door had closed
behind them. "Uncle Tan might pretend not to know any English and give
Mr. Kent the run around. It wouldn't make a very good impression of our
business, I'm afraid."
    Lois wondered how many Asian languages Clark knew to try out on the
fellow, but since he didn't need to deal with anyone else like his
landlord today, the note would relieve him of that. "I expect your
Uncle is a good bookkeeper though."
    "No, he's average, but he *is* a good astrologer."
    "Wow, I'm a Leo!" Jimmy said.
    "Fascinating," Suki smiled. Lois gave Jimmy a "watch it!" look.
    Lois and Suki talked on the drive to the site. The contractor
admitted that so far all their construction business had been tear
downs. He had two teams: the advance students studying the softer
styles, like Aikido and Tai Chi, practiced their skills by probing out
buildings, finding weak spots and meditating on further weakening them
or projecting Chi into them. The second team was made up of those
interested in the hard martial arts. "Younger people mostly. They enjoy
kicking and shouting," Suki explained. "We make sure they're up to it
and won't hurt themselves."
    "I can appreciate that. And the Feng Shui aspect?"
    "Ah, yes! Uncle's specialty." Uncle Tan examined each building they
were contacted to tear down and advised about the day and time to do
it. He also assisted architects in building construction so the
resulting structures would sit in the most favorable manner.
    "Jimmy," Lois said as they pulled up to the site, "Mr. Stern
brought in a Feng Shui expert from Hong Kong before he rebuilt the
Planet Building, you remember..."
"Yeah, I remember that little guy. What does it do, bring good
luck? It must work, we haven't been blown up or taken hostage or gassed
or drugged or anything else in there since then."
    "That's it precisely, Mr. Olsen. Now let me show you the part of
the building we're going to tear down today and introduce you to my
students."
    Suki found hard hats for them and escorted them through the gate in
the fence around what had once been the Metropolis Orphanage and
Foundling Home. It had been severely damaged when its roof had caved in
during one of the Slime Monster's numerous touchdowns around the city,
but fortunately Superman and the Fire Department had evacuated everyone
in time. Suki said they had been contracted to knock down one wing as
part of a fund-raising effort.
    There were three masters and 16 students in attendance, as well as
the building's owners (a bevy of nuns) and, outside the fence, several
of the Home's former employees, a large group of children waving flags
and tooting on little horns, a number of dignitaries on their lunch
breaks, and the regular passersby drawn by the excitement. Lois thought
this was becoming a better assignment all the time since it looked like
they were the only reporters in attendance, but with its obvious human-
interest angle, it was more Clark's kind of story. Perhaps he'd get a
chance to see some of it unfold. She began interviewing people and
Jimmy started taking pictures.
    At high noon the process began. Letting out blood-curdling screams,
the students attacked the building at predetermined points using a
variety of hard styles and the occasional hand-held weapon. Jimmy let
out a whoop and ran through the dust and noise taking pictures. Lois
noted that either masters or nuns had to grab him out of the way
several times, but that it didn't daunt the young man, who was at last
in his element. Every time she saw him tackling a job in such a manner,
she felt there was hope for him and she determined to try to be nicer
to him.
    Several pages of notes, one wall down and a call for a break for
green tea and meditative peace later, Lois noticed Clark standing
outside the fence by the gate talking with the Home's volunteer
coordinator. Too bad, Lois thought, she had already interviewed the
woman. Lois went over to him, looking for a spare hard hat on the way
but finding none, so he'd have to stay in the peanut gallery. When the
woman went away, Lois walked up and said mock wistfully, "Looks like
there's always something between us," and then she smiled through the
chainlink fence.
    "Yeah... and again you got the better part of the assignment."
    "It has turned out to be more interesting than I thought it would
be, no wonder you didn't want to share the big story."
    "Ha. None of the other contractors are doing anything as wild as
this--if Singher had been, he might have thrown karate choppers at my
apartment instead. Then you could have fought them off between batches
of cookies. *That* would have been fun to sit back and watch."
    "Oh, Superman would have rescued me if I had... broken a
fingernail, I just know it." (His expression, she noted, said "Oh,
yeah?") "Of course," she added, "we would have had to share the
cookies."
    "No way, we'd tell him he... he needs to go on a diet," and Clark
nodded as though that would do the trick.
    "Right--about as much as *you* do."
    She wondered how many other such ironic statements she had made
over the last three years or so. It was definitely more fun to slip
them in on purpose and see him react--with a moment of raised eyebrows
in this case--as though he thought that after all this time she'd
*never* figure it out. She didn't count her own follow up on Diana
Stride's claims or that tacky hologram because she, Lois, hadn't been a
particularly nice person during that investigation and Clark had--
understandably now--worked hard to keep his secret.
    But that was old news that, she hoped, he didn't seem to take
personally anymore. "Oh... Did you find a phone?"
    "Um, finally. There was a fire, and Jimmy was right, it was at West
Metro High, in the kitchen."
    "Looks like he's psychic."
    "I guess so. Perry said Kay was there on another assignment so she
could cover it."
    On this information alone, Lois couldn't determine if Clark had
been told all this or had actually gone to the fire and seen Kay there.
"I wonder if they got the fire out..."
    "He said they did, that it was just scary. The students were
evacuated and the ambulances stood by in case there was anything toxic.
But it was put out quickly--apparently, I mean, that's the implication,
Perry wasn't worried."
    He'd gone. His explanation was too babbly. But she knew that under
other circumstances she would have accepted it, and, besides, she
wasn't going to ask Perry or anyone else about it if only because she
and Jimmy had indeed kept the more interesting assignment. She wondered
if, at close range, she would smell smoke in Clark's clothing.
    At that point Suki arrived, Lois introduced Clark, and Suki found a
hard hat for him. He asked if Clark had had any trouble with his Uncle
Tan, but Clark said that he and the old man had chatted amicably once
Clark had commented on the feng shui-correct layout and friendly but
business-like furnishings of the office.
    "He didn't want to talk to me and Jimmy at all," Lois grumbled
despite herself; what was it about Clark that made people open up to
him? She'd seen it time and again and no awe-inspiring blue suit had
been involved.
    "Well, since you were the lady dressed in the potato sack--"
    "What?!"
    "He said he thought brown wasn't your color--*I* said," he touched
his own chest, "I think you looked nice. You look nice in everything."
He said it with such sincerity. What's more, she noticed that Suki
nodding enthusiastically as well. Oh, brother. Clark added, as though
it would help, "If *you* wore potato sacks, soon everyone would be
wearing them."
    "I'm not mollified, but then he's not Calvin Klein, either."
    "Ah, no..."
    Suki repeated the tour for Clark and showed Lois how the wall had
fallen precisely as their plan had predicted. The two reporters watched
the remainder of the demolition, continued getting interviews, and
Jimmy took more pictures. At three the Daily Planet's representatives
gathered outside the fence and decided to head back to the office via
the first fast-food restaurant they saw. Lois and Clark sent Jimmy in
for the standard fair and then talked quickly but, to Lois's regret,
nothing memorable was said between them. He wondered vaguely about
getting together after work, but it seemed an obligatory comment.
    Maybe, she thought, he needed an excuse to get out of it. She
reminded him that her martial arts class was tonight and that she
wanted to go, she was feeling revved up after watching Suki's students
destroy the building bare handed. Clark could come along and watch her
practice if he wanted, but he recalled the last time he had attended
one of her classes: the master had invited him to participate and
thrown him several times. He said he had had enough of little old
ladies doing that, thank you.
    Lois thought she recalled reading something in one of his
unexpurgated journals that might explain his qualms about confronting
small older women, and added that to her list of things to pry out of
him eventually. For now, she figured that he had something else
planned, probably as Superman, or else he simply wanted to rest up
before being sequestered with the DA.
    Back in the office she and Jimmy planned a layout on Suki's Samarai
Reconstructors to present to Perry, who in turn sent Clark out to
investigate an attempted bank robbery in Green Meadows. Lois didn't see
him again for more than 24 hours.

                                  ***

    Wednesday was an irritating day for Lois. She woke to the
realization that her period had snuck up on her because she had
forgotten to keep track of it again. She swallowed a ton of vitamins
and a hefty dose of ibuprofen to see herself through the coming hours.
At least, she thought, for a change she could blame some of her
emotional turmoil and what she saw as dull-wittedness on something
physical. She dressed as light and freshly as possible and determined
not to let her body's quirks slow her down.
    As she drove in to work, she reflected on an idea she had
entertained off and on over the years, that women should put their PMS
and time-of-month frustrations to good use, to, say, fighting crime.
After all, even Clark didn't let his Kryptonian physiology slow him
down but instead used it to help when he could. Women could do the
same. That's why men are frightened of us, darn them, she thought. Let
*us* at the woes of the world for a few months and "human civilization"
wouldn't be such an oxymoron...
    She was humming "...in numbers too big to ignore..." and chuckling
as she pulled into the parking structure.
    At the Planet she was interested to hear that the kung fu layout
was gaining praise for Jimmy and that her copy was cheered for
complimenting Clark's work. That's a first, she thought; the little
woman, supporting her men... then she reminded herself that actually it
wasn't a first but it was rare, and that it was perfectly all right to
be the junior partner on this one story. So it didn't irritate her; no,
she told herself she'd get to work and compliment it some more today.
*That's* the attitude, she thought; then she wondered just how long she
could tolerate herself if she kept up this "Ms. Cheerful" act.
    In her in box she found a printout of the draft of Clark's story on
the attempted robbery of the Commerce Bank of Green Meadows. The
version she had read in the morning Planet varied little from this one.
The big difference was that in the top margin on the first page Clark
had tidily written "L. Luthor?" Lois reread the article and shook her
head. Clark, you have one possible, unconfirmed sighting of henchmen,
Lex himself not having been seen for two months in a row (less even
than Elvis), and a failed daylight bank robbery. This adds up to *him*
being involved in this? I have ten times more evidence than this for
the Slime Monster being from outer space, and you laugh your silly head
off...
    Well, no, he hasn't, he doesn't do that, but still...
    But still something did tingle, some little something...
    Maybe he felt that, too, maybe he'd finally picked up that ability
from her.
    He'd need more than this though to take the first step toward
Perry's door to propose an in-depth investigation. Sorry, buddy, but
that's my professional opinion. She stuck the report in her "Possibles"
file and got back to work on the more certain yet more deadly boring
contractors story.
    As the morning wore on, the sight of Clark's neat-as-a-pin desk--
the computer covered, the papers in the horizontal file straight and
color coded, the gilt frame on the new picture of his folks in
Disneyland with some poor kid in a rodent costume--made her miss him
even though she knew he deserved a day off. Not that he was getting
one. A wire story had him, or rather Superman--no, *him* in Africa from
midnight until around possibly six Metropolis time, helping the UN
again with a second airlift of food and supplies for the now less-
beleaguered people of some faraway place the name of which she couldn't
pronounce today. She found no reports of his having been seen any time
between 6 and 9 locally, so he'd probably gone to bed and then made it
to the DA's office in the nick of time. She considered visiting him and
waving and making faces through some glass window ("I'm out here and
you're stuck in there, ha-ha!"), but in the budget meeting Perry
assigned Dan to the courthouse, and Dan wasn't one to make faces. That
left Lois with two more contractors to interview, but the idea of being
stuck doing that wasn't irritating, either.
    Raul was irritating. Minutes before she planned to leave to talk to
Steve at Gallacci's Construction Company, Raul escaped from Laura and
glided up to ask how "Lois, my love" was doing.
    "Lois-your-love is not your love, Raul," she said, not looking at
him, instead trying to concentrating on the contents of some file or
another. "Get that *out* of your mind once and for all."
    He leaned weakly against her desk and tossed kisses at her with his
eyes, she could feel it. "I will *never* throw you out of my mind..."
    She pulled her notebook out from under his hand; no doubt he hadn't
noticed it or anything else important she was doing it. She looked up
at him. "Raul, you're a fine reporter, but do me a favor: get lost."
    "I am already lost..."
    This was one of the reasons she liked Clark so much: while he
wasn't demonstrative enough at times--though he was working on it
valiantly--she couldn't see him going off the deep end like this. She
slammed the notepad down, catching Raul's left-hand knuckles in the
process as well as, she hoped, his attention. She was glad she was on
pain-killing drugs or she could see that she might not have given him
even that much warning. She kept her voice quiet and steady: "Listen to
me: unless we're assigned to work together again--which I doubt--I
don't want hear a *peep* out of you," as calmly as she could, "ever...
again."
    But apparently that wasn't quite the right way to put it because
his pained expression turned dreamy again. "Such a fiery woman you are,
Lois Lane! You can rest the flames of your passion in my--"
    Laura tapped him on the back. "Time to go."
He turned, straightened gallantly and said in considerate tones,
"Yes, of course. Soon we will be finished with this wonderful banking
assignment and then..." he tried to gaze upon Lois again.
    But Laura stepped between them and said, "Wait for me by the
elevator, okay?" and she smiled like a tiger who wasn't real hungry yet
and he was lucky because she'd spit him out after a few chews.
    He acquiesced and went away, probably satisfying himself with
thoughts of being able to wrangle another assignment with Lois, who
sighed and collapsed back into her chair.
    Laura leaned forward and said secretively, "I know you don't need
advice from *me*, of all people..."
    Lois agreed but she didn't say that because she felt exhausted and
Laura was a thoughtful person.
    "...but if you were to ask me, I'd say that as much as he likes
strong women--"
    "But *you're* strong."
    "But you're more... mature than me."
    "Uh-huh."
    "And I respect you a lot..."
    "Yeah..."
    "Lois, I think he's only going to listen to someone about twice as
big as you are and of his own gender, if you know what and who I
mean..."
    "You're right, I don't need your advice..." that sounded awful,
Lois realized, even though Laura looked as though she expected the
retort. Lois tried to smile, "But thanks for it anyway. It's one of
those *ragged* days, if you know what *I* mean..."
    Laura nodded; she had such days each month, too.
    "If Raul says anything," Lois continued, "tell him I've been known
to... to get brutally physical."
    "No, he'd love hearing that. Of course, mace might do the trick..."
    "No... He's not horrible, he's just..."
    "Irritating sweet, I know."
    "I'll think of something--and I'm not going to drag my friends into
this," even if her best friend had inadvertently set it up.
    "Okay," Laura winked, waved and was off.
    Lois left soon, too, to visit the two remaining contractors. She
gathered plenty of quotes and walking around the building sites was
good exercise. By the time she returned to the office at three, she was
feeling better physically but also tired, like she'd run a marathon and
won it as well. She wrote what she considered a good, unbiased wrap up,
LANed it to Perry, grabbed her purse and abandoned the office without a
second thought about rewrites. She had lots of sick time saved up and
she was taking some of it for the rest of the day. She went home,
pulled off her dusty clothes, threw herself into her bed, and slept.
    Until something in an unremembered dream woke her and she bleared
at her clock. 6:55. Oh.
    6:55?!
    She stumbled out of bed and into the shower, which woke her totally
because the water was only luke warm again. She blew dry and combed her
hair into place--it looked all right, she was relieved to see--and
searched her clothes closet for something appropriate to wear to
Clark's meeting. She pulled out a quiet-pattered blouse, slacks, a bead
necklace and matching earrings. She transferred what she'd need to a
small purse, grabbed a can of soda to drink on the way, and was out of
her apartment by 7:20.
    Fifteen minutes later, having zipped down streets glistening with a
rain now passed, she found the Unitarian Church only two blocks from
Clark's apartment house, but there was no place to park. She wound up
parking in front of his apartment and sprinting back to the church. She
opened the main door quietly, heard meeting-type noises, sneaked down a
hall toward a double door, one door of which was open to a well lighted
area, and she looked in. She saw maybe one hundred people sitting on
generic folding chairs in a large room. Their backs were to the door,
their attention on someone she didn't recognize who was talking up
front.
    She also saw that Clark was off to her right, sitting in the back
row with that Farber woman on his right, and that he was looking at
her, Lois, as though he had kept the faith and been listening for her
to arrive and would have done so patiently for another several hours.
Oh, Clark, she thought, what am I going to do with you?
    He smiled. She returned it.
    I'm going to do a *lot*.
    There was an empty seat to his left, though it might once have been
occupied by Vanessa, who was sitting in Clark's lap. As Lois crept up
to take the seat, she saw that the little girl was deep asleep and
ragdoll-like in his arms. Lois could sympathize. "I'm sorry I'm late,"
she whispered, or rather mouthed it out, sure he could hear.
    He whispered in return, more audibly: "I knew you'd come."
    She could have hugged him for that simple statement. "Did I miss
anything? Did I miss *you*?"
    He shrugged and nodded. "But I have some new business, too."
    "Oh, good." She leaned toward him, touching his shoulder, as though
it were a mere byproduct of wanting to get a better look at Vanessa.
The child was just darling. She was dressed in a long t-shirt, pale
pink tights and no sign of shoes. Her head was back in the crook of his
arm, her body relaxed with trust and careless like string.
    Lois looked up and saw Jonesy was watching her. They exchanged
smiles. Cody sat on Jonesy's right. He was sleepy but still awake
enough to give Lois a calculating look. The boy was wearing a white
T-shirt with a red and yellow S on it and further decorated with
peel-off stickers depicting heroic-looking cartoon characters Lois
didn't recognize. In a few moments she apparently passed some
inspection, Cody looked away, curled up on his chair, his head on his
mother's lap, and fell asleep.
    Clark was wearing blue jeans and a pale blue T-shirt with a small,
faded Planet logo up off-center left. Lois felt like she blended right
in, which was a pleasant change. Next their hands found each other's.
That made Lois feel warm and relaxed now as well, and glad she had
nearly broken her neck to get here. She settled in, remained leaning
against him (he didn't protest), and tried to catch the thread of the
topic the man up front was guiding the group through.
    But it didn't take long for her to realize it was totally
uninteresting because she had heard it all before. Something about
street repair on Sinibaldi a subcommittee had been pushing, and how,
due to the Slime Monster attack, funds for normal city infrastructure
work had been diverted and there was no telling now when they'd be
available. Another subcommittee chair reported on the activities of the
local elementary, middle and high schools, and yet one more chairperson
talked about plans to get some public flower beds ready for the winter.
Clark managed to look fascinated throughout, but whether he was
employing a well cultivated reporter's "tell me more" expression or he
was truly interested Lois couldn't tell. Sitting here doing this,
though, had to be more fun than risking his life fighting crime.
    She comforted herself with the happy thought that she had missed
the reading of the minutes and the budget reports, and all this
subcommittee business took only another 15 minutes anyhow. Then the
chairwoman, a Mrs. Whitney, asked if there were any more reports. Some
of the audience wiggled in their seats, looking around; Lois realized
she wasn't the only one to feel relieved when the chair said "No? All
right, and it looks like we have only one piece of really new business,
and again, Clark?"
    Clark looked a surprised, like he hadn't expected to be first. He
began to stand then remembered he had Vanessa in his arms. He looked at
Jonesy, whose lap was already occupied, then at Lois, but only briefly.
    "I'll take her," Lois found herself saying.
    "No, it's all right, I'll..."
    Stand up there and try to look serious while holding a lightly
snoring slip of a child? Really? "Clark..." she said in her best "come
on, trust me" tone of voice.
    Clark handed over her rival. Vanessa cuddled up immediately,
stopped making the funny little noises her previous position had
inspired, and, if anything, fell deeper asleep. Wow, Lois thought, this
is easy.
    Clark announced that he had learned just that afternoon that his
employer, Mr. Franklin Stern, had been looking for ways to promote
peace and brotherhood in Metropolis and had apparently seen it in
action in their very own neighborhood Sunday afternoon. Some research
had shown that neighbors pouring out to stop crime wasn't an isolated
thing here, so he had decided to show his appreciation by sponsoring
and paying entirely for a big block party.
    Everyone in the room began talking at once. Clark looked down at
Lois and said, "I really did just find out this afternoon, after the DA
let me go. I would have told you, but you weren't in, so..."
    The chatter died down quickly at Mrs. Whitney's insistence, and
Clark continued, explaining that he'd only had time to contact
Mr. Reed, the chair of the neighborhood events committee. An elderly
man across the room stood up and said in a loud, clear voice, "I've
already talked to someone from that Mr. Stern's office and as soon as
we give the okay, it's all on, they'll work with my committee to get it
going for Friday night."
    There was some buzz about this being too soon, and Lois thought
about the Metro Stars and Garters rained-out game having been reset for
that night and how their tickets were still good. A block party could
be more fun though and of course Clark would want to go. He would have
to, actually, since his near tragedy had set the whole thing in motion.
    "There's one thing about this that we want to consider," Clark
edged in with. "I think there's going to be a political slant. I'm sure
the District Attorney's going to turn up and shake hands and kiss
babies and all that."
    This caused some to laugh knowingly. The DA's in trouble, Lois
thought.
    This seemed to be the extent of Clark's knowledge of the proposal,
and he sat down again and looked at her. "If they approve of it, you
can come and be my guest, but I don't know if I'll be able to make it
myself..."
    "Oh, you've got something planned for Friday already?" which was a
natural question.
    "Yeah... something..."
    Something Supermanish. It was becoming increasingly clear that he
really wanted to tell her who he was masquerading as and stop having to
make up credulity-straining stories. Come on, Saturday night! "I had
something I've been putting off that I want to do," she said, "so I
might not be able to attend, either. My mother tried to call me last
Friday night and she said she'll try again this Friday night so I
should... be there, you know..."
    "Well, that's nice," he smiled. "Where is she nowadays?"
    "Ah," pick a country, any country, "Belgium, I think, or maybe
Switzerland. It's... that time of year..."
    "Oh, I see," like that made incredible sense. "Do you want me to
take her?"
    Lois looked at the child. She had found herself rocking the girl a
little and actually enjoying the experience. Jonesy had given her
several approving looks already. "No, we're doing just fine."
    Clark nodded and said sincerely, "You look like you are. You'll
probably make a great mother--I mean, if you ever want to..."
    Oh, he expected her to make some crack like "Well, *believe me,*
not any time *soon,* I have a *career,* Clark!" Why get all starry eyed
about it, though, when it was probably genetically impossible to have
them with the one man--him--she'd even contemplate giving up part of
her life for. But considering that he liked children (by default if
nothing else; they certainly liked him, in his suit or out) and that he
surely meant it as a compliment, Lois simply smiled and looked down at
Vanessa again. All in all, though, she thought, I think I'd rather be
an aunt: all the fun of spoiling the child and none of the woe of
diapers and PTA meetings and loaning out the car.
    The party idea was kicked around, several resolutions were made,
passed or voted down, and eventually it was decided that the offer
would be accepted, but the neighborhood events committee would take
charge and the party would be moved to Sunday afternoon, which would
give some lead time for planning and allow more children to attend.
They'd hold it in the park across the street from the church so it
could be moved inside if the weather turned unfavorable. If that
Mr. Stern didn't like all this, too bad, they'd have it anyway, it was
time for another party.
    Lois was impressed that they had no second thoughts about standing
up to one of the richest men in America and telling him what they would
do with his money. "Well?" she whispered to Clark. "Do you have
anything planned for Sunday?"
    "Nope. Wanna go?"
    "I wouldn't miss it, particularly after our dinner on Saturday."
    "Oh, that, yeah... You can see how you feel."
    "Clark, I *don't* expect to... to get food poisoning..."
    He tried to smile. That wasn't what he meant, she knew it and that
he couldn't explain, and knowing this was such fun. "No, of course
not..." was all he could come up with, poor guy.
The meeting broke up soon after that and Clark was taken away by
several of his neighbors to be questioned about his near bombing and no
doubt asked for his input on other topics of neighborhood interest.
Jonesy lured Lois into a conversation, which was simple considering
that Lois was still holding the snoozing Vanessa. It quickly became
clear that the woman wanted to know more about her. Then, apparently
satisfied with what she learned, she began to talk Clark up and hint
that Lois should notice the wonderful things about that tall, broad-
shouldered fellow over there giving his undivided attention to the
talkative Mr. Reed.
    Lois played along. The only uncomfortable thought she had during
the chat was that she could think of no one but Perry and Lucy who
might talk her up to Clark, while Clark had lots of relatives,
neighbors and friends who wanted to see him happy and secure, who
jumped at the chance to pry into his love life, and who were more than
willing to drag her into their plans for him.
    Soon Clark was able to free himself and return to Lois and Jonesy.
At the same time, an elderly woman in a flower-print dress and
depending on a walker to get around tottered up. Lois remembered her
from Sunday, though Clark introduced her now.
    "Oh, yes!" the woman smiled grandly. "You're that pretty young girl
Clark's seeing, aren't you?"
    "I hope so," with raised eyebrows at Clark.
    "She's the one, Mrs. Wallace. We all walk home together, Lois."
    For safety, she thought, though there wasn't much to endanger
anyone in this neighborhood. Still, being escorted by a big guy like
Clark must have made the two women and the children feel secure. "Then
maybe we can get started, it must be past the kids' bed time all
ready."
    "Well past," Jonesy agreed as she roused Cody, who nearly fell off
his chair. Clark bent down quickly, caught him and tickled him for a
moment. Clark then took Vanessa, who allowed herself to be transferred
without bothering to wake up. Other people, most of them Mrs. Wallace's
peers, came along and on the sidewalk outside the church, Lois counted
at least ten who also headed in the same direction.
    They chatted amicably, mostly about the Sunday party and how their
last one in June had gone. They asked Lois about Stern and his motives,
and she said he'd be surprised at their initiative. She didn't add that
she also thought that he would agree to what they wanted; let them find
that out on their own, it would give them a feeling of more power. They
all laughed at the DA possibly trying to turn it into a political
event. He would be in for a surprise if he tried any campaigning,
though at least half of those walking along rather liked the fellow.
Lois wondered if Mr. Stern would eventually regret having dreamed up
the idea.
    They went a few blocks out of the way, dropping off people one by
one, and eventually Lois and Clark wound up alone in front of his
apartment. "Do you want to come in? I have... Well, I can make some tea
or something..."
    She wondered if he'd offer her a stronger refreshment if she
weren't driving. As for the "or something," she didn't feel like
getting into a complicated conversation or easing out of anything
physical he might think he had to propose. Some other time of month
maybe. She leaned back against her Jeep. "No, I was either in the
office or breathing dust all day, but it's nice and cool out here. And
I know you didn't have time to grocery shop."
    "Oh, but I did. I got out just after two and called in what
happened--not much. It looks like Dawis now believes Jaxon and Black
are just small-time hoods. I don't think he's found any solid Intergang
connections, but he's just about got them linked to Singher, who may
have threatened to turn them over to Intergang if they talked, which
could explain their silence. There's no proof that Singher's connected
to Intergang either, though, anybody can make a threat like that. I
called it all in and Perry told me what Mr. Stern wants to do, and I
asked about you, but you were out."
    "On a construction site, probably. Except for Suki's yesterday,
boring doesn't begin to describe them, you were right about that. They
were even more boring to interview than the Miss Metropolis contestants
last year..." All those women, all those brains, with many of them
having degrees in math, physics, business administration, and holding
down solid jobs...
    "Yeah, too bad I had to go, ah..."
    Rescue someone or stop something. "Pick up your dry-cleaning, wasn't
it?"
    "Probably. I don't remember. Did I ever apologize for leaving you
and Jimmy there surrounded by all that..."
    "Naked flesh?" They had arrived in time for the swimsuit rehearsal.
Jimmy had nearly had a heart attack, but he'd recovered quickly and
matured incredibly for the duration of the shoot.
    "Yeah, that."
    "No, I don't think so."
    "Well, I'm sorry."
    "I bet you are," but she smiled and shook her head.
    He turned and leaned back against the Jeep, too. "Well, with
whatever you wrote today, that should be it on the evil contractors
story..."
    "Ummm. It was a good one. I think Perry will submit it for a
Kerth."
    "Gosh, I hope so."
    "Though our Slime Monster coverage was good."
    "Yeah, it was, but everyone was doing that, so..."
    They leaned for a while, looking at the front of Clark's apartment
building. She noticed that he had left no lights on but he really
didn't need them. They listened to the lived-in noises of the
neighborhood, and felt the cool, moist breeze that indicated Fall was
trying to slip into the city.
    "We need another story to work on."
    "There's that Lex-almost-robbed-the-bank one you tried to foist off
on me."
    "Yeah, well... Green Meadows is so well guarded, maybe he'd take
that as a challenge."
    "Not good enough, he's more careful than that even if he is a
little crazy now."
    "I know. It was just a feeling I had about it."
    "But that's good. I..." oh, admit it, "I got a feeling, too, when I
read what you wrote this morning."
    "You did? A little tingle?"
    "Yes."
    "Ah-ha. Wow..."
    He hadn't had tingles before? Surely... Maybe not. Just because he
could fly like a bird didn't mean he could tingle like a seasoned
reporter yet. Well, one more thing to help him out on. "But we need a
lot more than a tingle."
    "Something will come up, on that or something else."
    "Or we'll dig it out."
    "Yep."
    "Pull it kicking and screaming into the cleansing light of day."
    "Or that.
    "Truth, justice and freedom of the press will be our bywords."
    "Bylines."
    "No editing me without permission."
    "Ah... Are you doing anything on your day off?"
    "Sleeping in probably. I took a nap this afternoon, that's why I
was late." Whoops, she thought; she was going to blame it on traffic.
    "A nap? Do you feel all right?"
    "Now I do, I just needed... a nap. We all do now and then, don't
you?"
    "Sure, I took one Sunday."
    "Well, there, you see? And what do you do on your days off--
assuming you get to take them. Do you, oh, catch a flight down to the
Amazon to count birds?" Sit on Mt. Everest and encourage the climbers?
Hold your breath and explore the Mariana Trench?
    "No, though that does sound interesting. Last week I went to the
Zoo."
    The Zoo, of course. It had become clear to everyone that during the
Slime Monster attack he had made a special effort to keep the thing
away from there. "That's a good idea. Maybe I'll do that."
    "I like to visit the gorillas. The elephants are great to watch,
too."
    "Big and strong..." Taking the unintended hint, she edged over,
touched his elbow and did some hinting of her own.
    He put his arm around her shoulders. "Cold?"
    "Not now." He really could radiate heat, couldn't he?
    "Oh..." and he smiled, which won him her arm around his waist and a
half hug. "Ah..." he continued, as though he thought he had to stay on
the same track, while she wondered if he was supersensitive and thus
really ticklish and if this was the right time to find out. "They're
strong, but they're intelligent, too, and they like to watch us as long
as they have plenty of room and a private place to go, and they feel
protected."
    "You know this for a fact..." Does he talk to the animals, too?
    "Well, I just... feel it--*you* could feel it, too, anybody could
if they tried, I'm sure," he insisted, as though he feared placing
himself apart from everyone in regular life, too.
    "Uh-huh..." But he might be right, maybe anybody could talk to the
animals, anybody nutty... like anybody who talked to her pregnant fish.
    "They have a great new bird house," he said, "with lots of tropical
flowers and the birds are free to fly around in it so you have to watch
out, and there's a rose garden near the duck pond. There's a bigger one
in Lefkowitz Park, and Mr. Stern endowed a park full of them south of
his property in Green Meadows. It has some rare British varieties."
    "So you're suggesting I stop and smell the roses?"
    "You like roses..."
    "And I should get out and enjoy nature more, too, hmmm?"
    "No, not if you don't want to. You might feel better sleeping all
day, I don't know..." and he let it trail.
    Oops, he's backing off, he probably thinks he's been too forward.
Next thing we know he'll remember he has to tie his shoe and do it in
Bangladesh. No way, buddy. She tightened her grip on his waist. "Well,
maybe I *should* get out and smell the roses. I can go to the Zoo and
soak up some sun, work on my tan. I loved the fresh air and the peace
and quiet around Smallville. It will be a little noisier at the Zoo,
but maybe I'll find out that elephants... sound like cows."
    "They do sometimes. Big cows. Big smart cows. Sort of. But
different."
    "I bet it's because they pack their own trunks."
    He smiled, "Yeah, there's that..."
    He could always be counted upon to appreciate even her stupid
jokes. "Okay, so tomorrow the Zoo maybe. Friday we find a new story.
Saturday, dinner. Sunday, the block party. If Mr. Stern pays for
everything, what will you be doing? I bet you usually take... homemade
potato salad."
    "Sometimes, but usually I'm in one of the border guard teams."
    "Border guards? Here?"
    "That's what someone called them. We don't really have borders and
we don't really guard them, we just mingle and make sure there's no
trouble. In all the block parties we've had, we've only ever had three
homeless tumble in, and we wound up feeding them. We had a few gang
members show up once last fall, but Mrs. Whitney had just taken another
mediator course and she found out they were simply kids looking for
adult supervision--that's what she *said.* She put them to work in
trade for snacks and praise, and, oddly enough, it worked. We've had
some lost kids and one sprained ankle, that kind of thing."
    "So, no job for the police or even Superman."
    "No, neither of those. The only police we have are off duty ones
who actually live here, and one of them likes to man--ah, woman a
barbecue and the other one brings paint and tattoos children's faces."
    She just looked at him.
    "It's all true."
    "You live in a weird neighborhood, Clark."
    "But it works for us."
    "I know... I can't imagine it happening where I live. The
management puts on big parties and advertises them with flyers, even at
Christmas, and they always add that there were will be plenty of booze,
which makes them worse. At least most of the people who attend only
have to find the elevator to go home and they're in the party room on
two so I don't have to hear them. I don't go to those parties very
often, I don't feel..." comfortable with those people, she thought. She
felt herself hug him again.
    "Well, you can come to ours, the strongest drink they'll have is
beer, the neighborhood events committee won't allow anything stronger
than that."
    "And will you guard my border?"
    "If you'll guard mine."
    "It's a deal."
    "Seal it with a...?"
    "You betcha."
    He stepped down into the impeccably clean gutter so that they were
eye to eye, and they enjoyed sealing up certain promises until one of
them noticed it had started to sprinkle, which signaled an end to the
evening.

                                  ***

    Lois slept in late Thursday morning. She got up only long enough to
snatch the paper from where it leaned against her front door, grab
something to eat and then rush back to bed as though she were a child
and monsters might get her if she didn't keep the covers warm as long
as possible.
    After perusing the comics, she turned to the front page and started
reading bits and pieces of serious news. She found a story that
announced that Superman had flown off to West Bougainvillea again,
having left Metropolis, she figured, shortly after they had parted the
night before. He hadn't been in any hurry to go though, had he? If it
hadn't been for the rain, who knows, they might still be there leaning
back against the Jeep or, better. rating each other's kisses, no easy
task since she was having to make a whole new scale for him. Did he
have a long history of kissing women against whom he judged her? Nah,
not Clark, not in the suit or out, and even when he did indulge, he
often wound up kissing evil lips.
    It seemed though, in reflection, that lately he had been chaste
(suited and otherwise) and saving himself for her. Good boy.
    Superman had helped the relief troops enter the capital under cover
of darkness and made life miserable again for the combatants in the
crazy civil war going on over there. Peace talks had finally been
agreed to by the warring sides. Lois shook her head: they must have
been running out of ammunition, what with it being taken away from them
at an alarming rate. Good for Clark.
Then, below that article she found the explanation for his
hesitating to do anything with her on Friday evening: there was a small
notice that mentioned Superman was expected at a UN function during
which he would receive a medal for his on-going assistance in the
African crisis. It didn't sound like a big thing, which she thought
Clark probably preferred. As far as she knew, he didn't attend many
such affairs though there easily could have been at least one a night,
as much as he managed to do. No, he wanted a normal life: a simple
thanks and smiles on children's faces and all that charming kiss-the-
horse-and-ride-off-into-the-sunset stuff was enough for him. People
need to celebrate sometimes, Clark, she thought. People like me.
*We'll* celebrate...
    She decided then that she didn't want to lie around all day but get
out and explore some of the city that she hadn't seen lately, like the
Metropolis Hills Golf Course. Sorry, Zoo, some other time. She dressed
appropriately, relaxed yet stunning, pulled out her custom-made clubs
and leaned them beside the front door and then went to her den to
search through her desk for her membership card. She found it and in
the search remembered that she had to make a reservation. Well, there'd
be no trouble in that. It was still practically the middle of the week,
the course would probably be deserted, and as soon as they heard her
name, they'd bow down in welcome.
    Over the phone she heard: "You have reached the Metropolis Hills
Golf Course."
    "Good."
    "We are closed until the damages sustained"
    "No!"
    "during the August 14th activities of the so-called Slime Monster
can be assessed. You may be interested to know that one of the
Monster's byproducts is proving to enhance the course's landscape and
greens in a safe and organic manner. We will reopen with new and
improved facilities. All members will be alerted by mail--"
    Lois hung up firmly, not slamming the phone down because it would
make no difference to the answering machine. Monster poop, great, Clark
would be thrilled. If she hadn't been all dressed up with no place to
go she might have laughed.
    Except, of course, she could go to the Zoo. It wasn't a *bad*
destination, she told herself, it was just that she had worked herself
up for a morning of golf and now this, something boring that Clark
would find deep interest in.
    What do we see in each other, Clark?
    Who knows--but I'm *trying*...
    She sighed, put away her clubs, changed into less expensive
relaxing-in clothing, put on her Smallville cap, grabbed up a book and
her novel notepad, threw them all in the designer backpack she found in
the back of the top shelf of her closet, retrieved her Jeep, and headed
for the Zoo. Well, if this turned out to be as sleep-inducing as
watching ice cream melt, at least if he asked she could honestly say
yes, she'd visited, it's a nice zoo and she'd go again some time. Like,
in a decade or two.
    Ice cream... She spotted a deli on the way, realized that a hand
full of Fritos, an almost too-ripe pear, and a bit of toothpaste
weren't a nourishing breakfast, and she pulled in. She left with a
yummy big stuffed croissant, a container of delicious-smelling potato
salad, a bottle of spring water, and double-sized fudge brownie. Hmm,
she thought: she wouldn't have done anything like this had she gotten
reservations at the golf course. No, it would have been cocktails,
water cress sandwiches and polite chat while she waited her turn to tee
up.
    When she arrived at the Zoo, she pulled out the food, backpack, and
the emergency blanket she kept in the Jeep and took all this with her.
The ticket seller didn't give her a second glance. People must do this
all the time, even Clark probably. Maybe he had brought a picnic lunch
with him last Wednesday. Maybe that's something we can do together. If,
on the other hand, she proposed a round of golf, assuming the course
was open, he'd probably hear a runaway train in somewhere like Belgium.
    She was given a map and she consulted it to locate the Gorillas.
They weren't hard to find, being a premier attraction. She sat on one
of the shaded benches in front of the grassy, natural-looking enclosure
and saw the animals lazing about in the hazy late-morning sun. She ate
her potato salad and drank some of the water. This wasn't much fun,
watching them watch her back. Maybe Clark could talk to them, but she
couldn't think of anything to say other than "Sorry you can't be back
in the Congo or wherever you came from, but it's safer here," and she
didn't say it aloud for fear of looking like a nut case.
    The big male Silverback might have agreed. He rolled over now and
continued to merely regard her, upside down, with sleepy brown eyes.
Clark's eyes were brown like that, she thought, but more lively. Maybe
if she got closer to the fence, which she didn't want to do, she'd see
some match of intelligence as well. Or maybe she'd see it in the eyes
of the two baby Gorillas who were crawling all over the male, who
tolerated them with infinite patience. That was like Clark.
    Of course, if intelligence had anything to do with it, what was so
smart about scraping out a living instead of passing the time laying
around poking through the grass... eating...--what was that? Yech,
*bugs?* Eating *bugs* in the grass! Eeuew, yech! And then another ape
came out of the cave door in the plaster-and-stone structure that
formed the back-drop to the "cage." It shambled over a jungle gym,
climbed up on it, and, without the least indication of contrition,
stuck its rear end out into space and urinated right there for God,
taxpayers and children to see and take pictures of.
    Okay, Clark, you can have the Gorillas, they're all yours, thank
you and good night.
    The elephants were dusty and simply standing about contemplating
who knew what (quantum physics, probably, she sighed). She gave up on
them after a few minutes and headed for the rose garden. There she
paused and smelled several specimens. The day's warmth brought out the
fragrance, nice. If I ever get my dream house, she thought, I'm going
to find out how to grow roses. Okay, okay, Clark probably knows how to
do that, too, but I won't let him near them. There are things I have to
be better at, or get better at, he can't be good at everything... He's
not, she reminded herself, but still...
    Next, the famous duck pond, and she could hear quacking and honking
long before she saw it. Part of the pond formed a moat in front of a
band shell, and to give an audience someplace to sit on warm evenings,
there was an expanse of placid, well kept grass. All this was
surrounded by tall-trunked trees which provided plenty of shade. To top
that, there was no one else here but the ducks, geese, some sparrows,
pigeons and squirrels.
    This was the place. She spread out her blanket in the dappling
shade near the pond, broke out the croissant and her book, and enjoyed
lunch to the sounds of ducks and geese enjoying whatever they found to
enjoy in the dark waters on the north side of the band shell. Some
braved feathered souls approached to freeload off her and she tossed
them a few crumbs, thinking next time she'd have to bring bread for
them, if it was allowed. She put the brownie aside for a mid-afternoon
snack and after reading a few chapters, decided to stretch out on her
back. Reading that way didn't work very well, but that was the point,
she realized, laughing at herself. She let the book fall across her
stomach and watched the trees sway in the breeze and, far above them,
the puffy clouds coasting by. There were few people and they passed
through steadily, on their ways to the elephants or the lions. There
was only the occasional shout of a child or the call of a parent--and
absolutely no one showed any indication of wanting to bother her. She
heard many animal sounds--tigers grunting, baby elephants squealing,
seals barking--and somehow she felt they were telling each other it was
time for their usual afternoon let's-bore-the-spectators nap. Far from
boring, it was a terrific idea...

                                  ***

    Lois breezed into the newsroom the next morning right on time and
feeling like challenging the world to just try not giving her the best
story it had--as long as it wasn't about who Clark was dressing up as
in his spare time; that story didn't have to be told. Any other
terrific story, though, watch out!
    She noticed that he was at his desk, reading wire copy, the look on
his face one of interest but not indicating that he was learning
horrible news from somewhere. So he wouldn't mind his thoughts being
interrupted as she beat him to the punch with a cheery "Good morning!"
    That got his attention. "Good morning to you. My gosh, look at
you..."
    "Stunning, hey?" and she turned to show him the same two-toned gray
suit she liked to wear when she was feeling lucky. More things had
happened to them when she wore this skirt and jacket than any other
clothing, it seemed, and since they needed a new story...
    "I'll say. Buy a lucky lottery ticket?"
    "No, I only play games I can *win,*" and little did he know what
kind of game *he* was involved in, ha-ha-ha! "I'm going to have a great
day today--like the one I had yesterday. No one tried to kidnap me,
almost everything in my apartment worked fine most of the time, and I
saw Sleepless in Seattle again and had a good cry."
    He tossed his copy aside, leaned back, and endeavored to look
envious. "The ingredients of a perfect day off."
    "No, really!" She tossed her purse into her drawer and went over to
lean against his desk, though she didn't feel like she wanted to stand
still for that long. "I went to the Zoo after all and had a nice picnic
there with the ducks, *and* I took a nap!"
    "Exciting."
    "You don't know the half of it. I woke up thinking someone was
watching me, standing right there with his beady eyes crawling all over
my body..." *That* wiped the superior look off Clark's face fast. I bet
he's wondering where he was at the time, she thought, and why the heck
he wasn't there to protect me. She continued in a conspiratorial tone:
"I rolled over as though I were still asleep and grabbed for my
backpack and I had every intention of pulling out my mace, when... I
saw these cute little grass-stained bare feet and I realized it was
just a child, a little boy, and that's who was watching me."
    "So you didn't mace him?"
    "Clark, I should mace *you* for that crack... He and I talked for a
little while. He was looking for some clown act that was supposed to be
there, he said, I think, he was a little hard to understand. Some
children just mumble, don't they? But we figured the clown was probably
at the children's petting zoo, so when his mother found him--his name
was Paul, I think--anyway, I went with them. The little animals were
the *cutest* things... You probably know all about them, I mean, you
grew up with goats and chickens and donkeys out the kazoo, but those
kids had a ball. Speaking of farm animals, when I decided I wanted to
see the movie, I tried to call you."
    "I got your message, but I was... out."
    "Ah, well..." it was just one of those things. "Was it busy around
here? Did you miss me?"
    "Not very busy, but we always miss you--I do, anyway."
    "Oh, points for *you*, Mr. Kent."
    "Points? But, no, I do miss you."
    "More points."
    "I'm not asking for points..."
    "Then I'll stop handing them out."
    "You don't *have* to, if it makes you happy..."
    "Yeah..." and she beat him to the grin. "Where was I? Oh, and Jimmy
got another picture spread. Two in one week!" The headline in this
morning's "Life in Metropolis" section had read "'Superman Helps
Fund-raiser for Orphanage'..."
    "Yeah, he's walking on air--Jimmy, I mean. He wrote the copy, too,
and he says Mrs. O'Shea didn't edit it much."
    There had only been a few paragraphs, but it was good experience.
"I wonder how he found out about it. On Wednesday I didn't hear
anything about that being planned, and I usually hear *every*thing when
it comes to you know who," explain *that*.
    "Well, on Tuesday, while we were at the Orphanage, do you remember
that woman I was talking to outside the fence? Before I got in? She
said they were trying to find a big act for a fund-raiser."
    "And you said you could get Superman, like he'd... tap dance or
pull rabbits from a hat or something?" She'd like to see that...
    "No, he'd just appear and thrill the kids and anybody standing
around who happened to have money and needed leaning on. She said you
suggested several of the movie stars who are in town--"
    "I told her she could use my name."
    "I'm sure that would have helped, but she told me they had already
called those people and they all had prior commitments or wanted too
much security and certain photographers and bottled water and too many
other conditions to meet. And for some reason they wanted it to be a
quiet affair, so..."
    "So no reporters like you?"
    He shrugged. "Right, or you. I didn't say they had a good handle on
how to get publicity, they're basically just a group of nuns after
all..."
    "But they allowed Jimmy to take the pictures."
    "I suggested him, pointed him out, they thought he was cute and
said okay, he found the church where it was held, and the rest is
history."
    "He got some good pictures," because you let those kids crawl all
over you having the time of their lives. "It looked like a lot of
fun... More fun than attending that Star Labs press conference, I bet."
    "I just distilled the scientific mumbo-jumbo into English."
    Three paragraphs of nothing that hadn't been guessed already. "They
didn't happen to mention that the thing was from Alpha Centuri, did
they?"
    "No, though Marie Rose did ask--"
    "Ask what? What were that... that *woman's* exact words?"
    "Ah, she said 'There's a rumor that the--'"
    "'Rumor'?!"
    "'--monster was a visitor from outer space. What are the political
ramifications of that?'"
    "Huh?"
    "That was exactly expression on the two scientists' faces. They
huddled and finally said they had no comment."
    "Oh... Well. Maybe that means they've been thinking it's from outer
space, too."
    "Maybe."
    "And maybe she really doesn't have anything."
    "Maybe."
    "Probably."
    "Okay, probably. She probably got everything she has from reading
you."
    "Right, but since I don't have much, and since they didn't say
anything new..."
    "I would have called you if they had."
    "I know." She sighed. "Well, no use dwelling on that. What do we
have for the budget meeting?"
    "Nothing. Perry said we didn't have to attend, though he did
suggest we might check out today's City Council meeting on accepting
more bids for city repair work..."
    "You didn't take him up on it, did you? Please say no..."
    "Jeff volunteered to cover it. I said we might follow up on the
near-robbery of the Commerce Bank."
"That's more interesting... just."
    "We've been invited to have cocktails while we tour their building
and marvel at their security system next Thursday."
    "Thrilling--and a long time from now."
    "I agree." He stood up. "And, of course, you don't have to go, you
can find your own story. Personally, I want to figure out why Lex sent
obviously expendable henchmen on a daring frontal assault on a new
high-security bank in plain daylight in a community with high taxes to
pay good policemen when he had to know it would fail miserably."
    "Maybe he expected the outcome because he hired them from Thugs-R-
Us, where Singher got *his* henchmen."
    "Could be..." but he smiled. "But until I figure out the answer or
you drag up a good story, we walk the streets, looking for news."
    "I'm sure we'll find something better than this flight of fancy
you're entertaining about Lex."
    Clark sighed dramatically. "So much for *that* tingle."
    "It looks like your tingle is a lot stronger than mine about it--
although I think that my tingle about your new idea is stronger than
yours ever was about my Smith-Slime Monster connection."
    "Ah... right, I got no tingle at all about that. I don't even want
to think about the Monster any more. Coming?"
    He was raring to go. She wondered if he was thinking up some clever
way to approach the bank/Lex story to convince her to go along with it,
but she thought it unlikely. Clark seemed to act so rarely on whims
that she doubted sometimes he ever had them. No, surely he did, look at
the contractors story. Then again, look at his Superman suit... But she
couldn't work with anyone who didn't have *some* imagination...
    As the weather promised to be nice again today, and because they
sometimes did attract interesting stories by simply walking the
streets, going out was a fine idea.
    Except for one little roadblock that appeared when the elevator
doors open.
    "Lois! What good fortune! Seeing you makes my whole day brighter
than the sun!" Raul glided out of the elevator toward her, intent, no
doubt, on clutching her hand and kissing it passionately. No, she
reminded herself, he had hardly touched her except while escorting her
across the street, and through doors and the like, touching her back
then, as though she needed physical guidance and might faint at the
prospect of challenging traffic.
    Today she didn't feel like screaming "Get a life, clown!" No, she
said, "Good morning," breezed right by him into the elevator, turned,
produced a pleasant but totally uninviting smile for him, and then
raised her eyebrows at Clark. "We'll take my Mercedes out to Shawler's
Reservoir. We can probably rent some diving gear there, too, or along
the way."
    Clark stood there watching her lie like a pro--and Raul swallow it
whole like a hungry dog--as though trying to figure out how he should
be reacting. Well, he darn well better follow her whim on this if he
knew what was good for him. The last thing she wanted was Raul chasing
after them, though if he did, he'd chase the wrong car.
    "Ah, yeah, that's right," Clark nodded. "And we don't want to
forget the..." He snapped his fingers." The..."
    "The radar tracking device."
    "Yeah, that. We can get one..."
    "On the way, in Midvale."
    "And can we take fishing poles?"
    "We're going to be *working*, Clark, we'll have no time to relax."
    Raul pounced: "You will need help!" and he was so happy to be able
to offer his assistance.
    "No! This is a *two-person* operation, I already have my second
person, and we don't have room for more than that."
    "I'm sure we can cover this just fine, Raul, thanks," Clark said
equitably. Then, to Lois, "But we shouldn't forget your... ah..." his
hand motions said "help me with this..."
    You have no imagination, Clark! "My pilot's license, of course, in
case we need a helicopter--but I already have it in my purse," and she
patted it. "Let's go."
    "We're going to fly? But I get air sick! We'll have to stop first
and get some..."
    "Ginger ale, isn't that it? Or maybe Pepto? We'll get you some."
Come *on,* Clark!
    "Actually ginger powder in pills would be better--and I should call
my parents, to tell them where I keep my will and about the insurance
and--and the cat, someone will have to take care of my cat--" He looked
at Raul.
    No way! "Then, let's," she reached out and grabbed Clark's sleeve
and pulled hard, "get going! The James Gang could be escaping with the
treasure while you stand there vacillating because you're afraid of
heights!"
    He allowed himself to be pulled, good for him. When he was standing
next to her in the elevator a moment later, he looked back out and
said, "Buenos dias, Raul."
    "Clark, I know you told me you have no claim on Lois Lane, but my
heart yearns for her! Be careful with the gentle flower that she is!
She pretends to be as tough as a nail but I have learned that--"
    The elevator door closed.
    Lois rolled her eyes and then noticed Clark was looking at her. He
smiled a quick caught-me smile and then looked away and down to see if
his shoes were still tied.
    "Air sick..." she muttered.
    "Yeah, well..."
    "And no claim..."
    "That's not what I told him."
    "So you think you have one?"
    "I didn't tell him that, either."
    Oh? "Well, that doesn't matter." It did, but darned if she was
going to pursue it right here and now. "I'm taking care of this," she
said as calmly as she could muster.
    "I didn't say anything, but--"
    "Good."
    "But I could, I mean--"
    "Don't."
    "I mean, boyfriends are good for that."
    "In some cases, yes, I suppose, but not this case. When I need your
help, I'll say 'sic'em, Clark!' and you can do whatever it is that
boyfriends think they have to do."
    "Such as?"
    "You don't know?"
    "Ah," caught, "no, actually, I never had to... Well, I was thinking
of talking to him, reasoning with him, except he has such flowery
language, I don't know if I can compete... without laughing first."
    "Laughing because he thinks I'm a gentle flower?--Oh, it wouldn't
work anyway, save your breath."
    "He hasn't hurt you..."
    "He's hardly touched me."
    "Or showered you with gifts..."
    "Other than the wine that night, and he took the bottle when he
left, he's given me one solitary red rose."
    Clark whistled appreciatively. "Well, I'm out, that beats a full
hand of daisies."
    "But I *liked* your daisy."
    "Oh. Okay. So, ah, it looks like your standard 'don't fall for me,
farm boy'--ah, barrio boy, I guess, that line didn't work on him..."
    She looked at him hard.
    And he finished it smoothly: "...either."
    "I knew you'd fallen for me, right then, I *knew* it!" and she
rolled her eyes again, though inside she felt vindicated.
    "Sorry... No, I'm not sorry. It's life, there it is, I couldn't
help it, I'm just a weakling."
    "A pushover."
    "Yeah." But then he frowned and looked at her. "Where..."
    "Your mother."
    "She shouldn't say things like that."
    "But that's what mothers are for, Clark."
    "You and Mom did talk about me..."
    "A little. It's a farm, Clark, and I don't know anything about
farms and they don't know any of my other friends, so what else did we
have in common that could we talk about?"
    "You make it sound like it was boring."
    "I do?"
    "Oh..." Like he wasn't sure what he was complaining about and there
was nothing he could do about it anyhow. He tried to regain their
original subject. "Well, I refuse to hit Raul or anything like that. If
he had hurt you, that would be different, *very* different."
    She could imagine, she told herself. But then she realized that she
couldn't imagine it. She could only think of him demonstrating physical
anger when he had the Superman suit on, and then she was unable to
remember any specific examples. No, wait, during the Trask incident,
she had arrived at the end of what had obviously been a knock-down,
drag-out fight between Clark, and that nutcase. Clark had looked angry,
yes, but more disgusted--and unaware that Trask was going to shoot him
in the back. The madman had just about murdered his parents, too, quite
enough justification for anger.
    The problem Raul presented though... "You'll think of something--
*when* and *if* I tell you I need your help." Then again, he might take
it on himself to speak to the love-smitten fellow; that would be
interesting....
    "I know: we could drop him in Shawler's Reservoir."
    "Clark..."
    "From the helicopter."
    "No."
    "What am I saying, 'we'? *You'll* have to do it. I get queasy at
certain altitudes, you know, I start to get dizzy and black out..."
    I've created a monster. "I'm not going to comment on this any
more."
    "Okay... if there's any other way I can't help you, you'll be sure
to let me know, won't you?"
    "You'll know."
    The elevator door opened to the Daily Planet building's lobby and
the two star reporters went out to find a story.

                                  ***

    Three hours later Lois was glad they had stopped at the parking
garage for her comfortable shoes because they had walked all the way to
her Uncle Mike's restaurant without seeing hide nor hair of anything
resembling a good story. One minor traffic accident with repentant
drivers, one purse snatching by an idiot with a bum knee, and one
possible pick-pocketing of an undercover police officer. What was this
stupid villain kick the city was on all of a sudden? Was there no news
to be had? "What do they expect us to start printing, anyway? The
*Weekly* Planet?"
    "As long as there's comics..."
    "Shut up, Clark, or I'll tell the DA you recognized six Intergang
members lounging around your neighborhood and you're withholding
evidence."
    He looked stricken. "You wouldn't..."
    "Try me."
    "I can see it now, 'Reporters Kill Each Other for a Story...'"
    "No, no, no, 'Story Eludes Star Reporters"--no, "*Serene* Star
Reporters; Ends Tragically When They Retire and Become Shepherds.'"
    "'Ends Ambiguously.'"
    "Don't argue with me--you don't realize how important it is to your
well-being that I'm happy."
    "Oh, Ms. Shepherd?"
    "Believe it, Fred."
    "But, Ethel, you'd hate being a shepherd, sheep can be really dumb
animals."
    "Then we'll get some smart sheep dogs."
    He'd shrugged, "Sure, that's an option. They cost a lot but--"
    "Stop worrying about money, *I'll* support you--"
    "I like the sound of that. I can stay home and watch soap operas
and paint my toenails."
    "You can have the babies, too.
    "No, that's too much stress."
    "How about if I stress this: let's *eat*."
    They ate lunch at Mike's place and, when he could stop long enough
to chat, they tried to pump him for information on underground
happenings, but things had been going swimmingly for him and his
neighborhood as well. Construction workers from nearby repair sites had
discovered his restaurant and business was flourishing.
    They took a cab back up town and spent the rest of the afternoon
doing nominal rewrites and other run-of-the-mill newspaper work, as
well as looking over their shoulders for Perry to emerge from his
office and give them a "I've got something for you two" look. But it
didn't happen.
    Lois decided to take off an hour early, but Clark said he'd stick
around. He wanted to ask Laura what she knew about the Commerce Bank of
Green Meadows. "Well, you just keep working on that," Lois told him,
"but if it turns out they're hiding Lex *and* aliens from outer space
in their vault, don't come running to *me* begging for help..."
    Surprisingly, Friday night Lois's mother did call and they had what
Lois would tell Lucy was a "nice chat." Ellen Lane was making business
contacts in Tokyo and expected to be in Hong Kong next. She left three
numbers where she could be reached and then asked how Lois was doing.
Lois didn't feel like talking about her growing relationship with
Clark, realizing it was not a good sign that she felt uncomfortable
talking to her own mother. It made her feel somewhat better that she
couldn't say anything about the big secret, she couldn't tell anyone
ever. It's a good thing I have Martha to talk to, she sighed. I'd have
gone nuts trying to play this game all by myself...
    Lois caught the ten o'clock news specifically to see if there was
any coverage of the UN ceremony. She had to sit through a 60-second
report on the peace talks that had gotten started with an argument
about the size of the table. History repeats itself, she thought. Then
they played a 15-second blurb of Superman graciously accepting a small,
silvery medallion. Was that all? Cheapskates. Must have been the same
slackards who had taken three months and four votes to decide to give
him honorary Earth citizenship and that so-called universal passport.
Compared to Friday, Saturday morning turned out to be exciting,
perhaps promising a good remainder of the day as well. Perry burst out
of his office, pointed at Lois, and told her to grab Jimmy and get down
to the Rosenberg Hills Mall Metro Stop pronto and check out a report of
an electrical fire. Clark rose to join her, but Perry told him to stay
put: a breaking national story was expected any moment now and it would
need his research talents, Lois could take care of the metro. The
breaking story, as it turned out, never broke, to which Clark may have
tingled because he was grumbling as Lois rushed away.
    As she expected, though, he found some excuse to absent himself
from the newsroom because Superman turned up just before she arrived on
the scene. He helped remove endangered passengers, put out the small
fire, clear the air of toxic fumes, and generally make it safe for
Metro personnel to figure out what 10-cent part had failed this time.
While Jimmy darted about taking pictures, Lois caught the guy in blue
looking at her from a distance and she waved an obligatory "I'd like to
interview you." But he was distracted by a Metro engineer, gave the
uniformed woman his full attention, and then he jumped down into the
emergency Metro entrance again to, Lois learned later, check on the
possibility of another fire. There wasn't one, though, and eventually
he flew away without following up with her.
    He hadn't looked like he wanted to talk anyhow. Actually, he hadn't
looked like he wanted to get near her. Wonder why... she smiled to
herself as she and Jimmy drove back to the Planet. Of course, she
admitted, she wasn't sure if she could have kept a straight face, which
wouldn't have done considering all the onlookers and the seriousness of
the situation. Still, things were working out just fine. She could see
herself working up to being able to face right and question him like
old times and he would be any the w