Fear of Discovery
by Yvonne Connell <Yvonne@yconnell.fsnet.co.uk>
Rated PG13
Submitted May 1999

***********
I felt like I was almost taking on more than I could cope
with as I wrote this story. The subject matter was so vast,
there were times when I thought I could never cover all the
aspects of the story that I wanted to. Even now, I'm sure
that I didn't - but I wanted to finish it before the next
millenium, so I sacrificed total rigour in favour of
concentrating on the bits I enjoyed writing most. If you
find yourself thinking 'but what about...' as you read this,
I can only apologise and hope it doesn't stop you enjoying
the story. As with all my stories so far, this one is set
sometime after Lois and Clark are married.

A huge thanks to my editors, Becky, Wendy and Dee. This is
the first time I've had the help of editors whilst writing a
story, and it was great! I would urge anyone who is writing
to find themselves an editor, as they can help you in so
many ways. They see things you don't because you're too
close to the story, they keep your grammar and punctuation
on the straight and narrow, and best of all, they cheer you
on when you're flagging. Thanks, guys!

Comments, either good, bad or ugly, are most welcome (and
you can do it publicly or privately, I don't mind which).

*********************************** Fear of Discovery by
Yvonne Connell <Yvonne@yconnell.fsnet.co.uk>

***********************************
	The elevator doors opened and Clark stepped out into the
Daily Planet's newsroom. As he walked down the ramp to his
desk, Jimmy bounced up to him with a broad grin on his face.
	"Hi, CK! Or should that be, Super-CK?"
	Clark stared at him in shock, momentarily lost for words.
	"S-sorry?" he stammered eventually.
	"So what does Metropolis look like from up there in the
clouds?"
	"I-I-"
	But Jimmy had sailed away before he could respond to the
young man's startling question. He made his way to his desk
in a daze, wondering if Jimmy really had figured out his
secret. Before he had time to dwell too much on that
worrying thought, Perry appeared round the corner of his
desk.
	"Superman! You and Lois. In my office. Five minutes. With
everything you've got on the mayor's story. OK?"
	"Perry?" Clark was dumbfounded. What on earth was going on?
	"You got a problem with that, son?"
	"Noooo." Just the fact that you're calling me Superman.
	"Fine. Don't be late."
	Perry stalked off in the direction of his office. Clark got
up and walked over to the coffee machine, where Ralph was
practising his clumsy chat-up lines on a couple of
secretaries from Circulation. When Clark reached them, one
of the women broke off the conversation to wave her mug in
front of him.
	"Heat this up for me, would you, Superman?"
	Clark was so confused, he obligingly took the mug from her
and warmed it up with his heat vision. When he looked up
again, it seemed as if the whole newsroom staff were crowded
around him.
	"Why are you all calling me Superman?" he asked the
assembled throng.
	"That's your name, isn't it?" replied Ralph with a laugh.
	"Come on, Clark, you didn't really think we didn't know
about Superman, did you?" added Jimmy.
	"Yeah, it was getting embarrassing, trying to keep up the
charade for you and Lois. Jimmy was best - he had the
puzzled look down pat, didn't you, Jimmy?"
	"I guess so, although Perry's deadpan faces had me in
stitches sometimes."
	They were all laughing now, as Clark looked from person to
person, desperately trying to understand what had gone so
wrong...

	"Clark! Clark!"
	Lois shook his shoulder as hard as she could to try and
rouse him from his dream. He'd been muttering in his sleep
for ages now, and it was finally beginning to drive her
crazy, as well as making her just a little concerned for
him. Waking up a Superman was like trying to wake the dead
on Valium, she thought as she pummelled his shoulder and arm
in a largely futile attempt to make an impression on his
subconscious.
	"But I'm not Superman," he suddenly said very clearly in
the midst of his incomprehensible ramblings.
	"Clark?" She shook him a little more tentatively, and his
eyes opened to look at her fuzzily.
	"I'm not Superman," he repeated, still caught up in the
false reality of his dream.
	"I think if you look in the closet downstairs you'll find
that you are, honey. Bad dream?" She started to play fondly
with his hair. "You were tossing and turning for ages before
you woke up."
	"I was? I'm sorry if I kept you awake."
	"Well, I have to say, it was a little like trying to sleep
next to a mini-tornado. A talking one at that. But I forgive
you. What was it about?"
	"The dream? It was really weird. Everyone knew I was
Superman, except you and I didn't know that they knew. It
was like they'd always known, and they were just playing
along with us." He stopped and frowned at the memory. "I
hope this isn't like the last bad dream I had."
	"You mean the one where you were being buried alive?"
	"No, the one where I lost you through a time portal. That
one came true."
	Lois propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at her
husband's anxious face. She could see that the effects of
the dream were still swirling around his mind, clouding his
judgement and making him see danger where none existed.
	"Clark, believe me, no-one who shouldn't knows you're
Superman, and there's no big conspiracy to make fools of you
and me. If there was, I'd know about it - it's my job."
	"Even if the joke was on you?"
	"Even then. Trust me, all this will seem crazy in the
morning." She snuggled up close to him. "Let's get some
sleep."

	The elevator doors opened and Clark stepped out into the
Daily Planet's newsroom. As he walked down the ramp to his
desk...everything was completely normal. No-one rushed up to
him and asked him to heat their coffee, or called him
anything other than his given name. Sighing in relief, he
settled down at his computer to check his email. While he
was waiting for it to boot up, he allowed himself a chuckle
at his own expense - Lois was right, last night's dream was
blatantly ridiculous when you examined it in the cold light
of day. Ralph interrupted his thoughts with a sharp rap on
his desk.
	"Scuttlebutt says you and Lois are nominated for best
reporter in the Kerths again. How does it feel to be going
up against the little wife, Clark?"
	I don't know, how does it feel to be the world's most
socially inept journalist, Clark wanted to say. Instead, he
said, "I wouldn't let Lois hear you describe her like that,
if I were you."
	"Like what?"
	Clark sighed. The guy really had no idea of his own
failings. "Never mind."
	He started to busy himself with his email in an attempt to
shake the man off.
	"So what do you think?" repeated Ralph, oblivious of
Clark's subtlety.
	"May the best man, or woman, win." He looked over at
Perry's office. "Sorry, Ralph, I think Perry wants me."
	He got up and walked away before Ralph could object.
Striding confidently towards his editor's office, he racked
his brains for something sensible to say to Perry when he
got there.
	"Uh, Perry?"
	Perry looked up in surprise at the interruption.
	"Clark! How did you know I wanted to talk to you?"
	"Ah, well, I..." He gestured vaguely outside in Ralph's
direction.
	"Ha! Running away again, were we? The boy's got a lot to
learn, but my gut tells me there's a good reporter in there
somewhere. He's already pulled in some good stuff."
	"I guess so, Chief," agreed Clark reluctantly.
	"So. I meant to wait until you were both together, but,
well heck, I just couldn't keep it to myself any longer. You
and Lois have a joint nomination for best reporter in the
Kerths."
	"Joint? You mean both of us, together?"
	"Yes. It's pretty unprecedented, to have a joint
nomination, especially in this category, but I guess the
selection panel finally saw sense and realised that even
though you are a team, you work and write as one.
Congratulations." He offered his hand out to Clark, who took
it hesitantly at first, and then with more confidence as the
news sunk in.
	"Thanks, Perry! I can't wait to tell Lois."
	Perry withdrew his hand with a wince.
	"Careful with that grip of yours, son."
	Clark grimaced his apology.
	"When will Lois get back from the dentist?"
	"Soon, I hope. It was just a check-up," replied Clark.
	"Dentists always say that, and then they drill half your
teeth away."
	"Not if you're Lois, they don't."
	Perry laughed. "I guess not!"

	Lois was elaborately nonchalant about the news, which meant
she was secretly thrilled, as Clark knew she would be. Next
came the dress debate - was she prepared to extend the
nonchalant attitude towards her attire, and wear a dress she
already owned, or was it her duty as a representative of the
Daily Planet to make sure she looked her very best and buy a
new one? In the end, they embarked on a shopping trip to
find Clark a new tie (one that wouldn't cause epileptic
fits, said Lois) which just happened to take them past some
of the more desirable dress shops.
	While Clark was waiting for Lois to emerge from the
changing rooms for the tenth time, he noticed a couple of
ladies affording him more attention than the clothes around
about them. First one would gaze at him until he caught her
eye, and then when he turned away again, the other would
stare at him through slightly narrowed eyes, as if trying to
see him in a different light. He wrestled with his
conscience for a while then gave in and tuned in to their
conversation.
	"It's definitely him, I tell you! You can tell by the
nose."
	"Are you going to ask him?"
	"No. I don't have to, I know I'm right."
	"Well, I am."
	Clark studied the carpet while fiddling with the coat Lois
had left with him, turning in what he hoped was a suitably
surprised manner when a strident female voice enquired,
"Excuse me, are you Clark Kent?"
	"Oh! Yes, I am."
	"And are you...are you...do you always wear those glasses?"
	Slightly bemused, Clark answered, "Blind as a bat without
them, I'm afraid."
	"Right. Fine. Thank you."
	The woman strode back to her friend, where he heard her
say, "You were right. It's him."
	"And is he-"
	"I didn't ask him."
	"Oh, big, bold Bertha, asks the question we already knew
the answer to, and misses out the really big one."
	"Can we just drop it?"
	They disappeared out of the shop still arguing with each
other. Meanwhile, Lois had emerged in another outfit for his
consideration, although as far as he was concerned, she
would look good in a trash bag.
	"That's the one," he said.
	"You just like it because it's burgundy," protested Lois.
	"I like it because it goes in and out in all the right
places. And it's burgundy."
	"But is it really me?" She looked down at herself.
	"Lois, it is completely you. In fact, it was made for you.
I'm surprised they didn't drag you off the street and insist
you wear it right away, it's so you. Let's buy it."
	"You're getting bored, aren't you?"
	"No, in fact, it's quite entertaining out here."
	"What do you mean?"
	"I'll tell you later. Are we buying this dress or what?"
	"You like it?"
	"I like it so much, I'll wear it if you don't."
	"Careful, I might hold you to that."
	"Just buy the dress, Lois."

	When Clark told Lois about the strange encounter in the
dress shop, she laughed and told him it was the price of
fame. Clark said the last thing he wanted was for his image
to be famous - the more well-known his face became, the more
likely it was that someone would spot similarities between
him and Superman. Lois told him he had picked the wrong
profession if he wanted anonymity, and he had to agree with
her. The trouble was, although he didn't admit this to Lois,
he had begun to feel as though quite a few other people were
looking a little too closely at him lately. He was trying to
tell himself he was suffering from a touch of paranoia
following his dream, but he was still uneasy.
	The following day, Clark was at his desk again, checking
his email. A lot of it was good-luck messages for the Kerth
Award ceremony to be held in two weeks' time, and he spent
some time answering the well-wishers. However, one message
entitled 'You don't know me' caught his eye, and with his
curiosity piqued, he skipped over the more familiar names to
open it. Immediately his heart lurched when the word
'superman' jumped off the screen at him, and it started
thumping when he read the full text of the message:
	'Hi, Clark. You don't know me, but I work down in Marketing
- you know, the ones who dream up all those free offers?
Anyway, I got this letter today, and you'll probably think
I'm crazy, but I just had to check it out. Are you really
Superman? Because that's what this letter says, and my
friend Jenny says the pictures are really good. So we
thought we'd ask you, I hope you don't mind. All the best,
Molly Smith.  PS I'm not really crazy.'
	Clark stared at the screen, his mind racing as he processed
all the implications of the message. Someone walked behind
him, and he hastily thumbed the off-button on his monitor,
knocking over a cup of coffee in his panic. Coffee splashed,
dripped and oozed everywhere, threatening to flood the pile
of papers on his desk. Glancing quickly around to make sure
no-one was looking, he froze the puddles and drips with his
breath and then brushed the whole lot into the trash.
	Now what? He needed to get hold of the letter and find out
what else Molly knew, but he didn't relish the idea of
confronting her himself. Lois would have to do it. He
shuddered when he thought of how many people Molly might
have told.
	"Someone walk over your grave?" Lois dumped a fresh coffee
on his desk.
	"Sorry?"
	"That's what they say, isn't it, when you shiver like that?
Someone walked over your grave. Although what they mean by
that, I have no idea. I mean, how could someone walk over
your grave when you're still alive? And why you should
shiver because someone walked over it, even if they could,
beats me also. Of course, I guess it would be pretty scary
if you did have a grave when you thought you were still
alive, so maybe you would shiver. But can a dead person
shiver? What do you think?"
	She took a sip of her own coffee while eyeing him over the
brim of the cup. Clark had drifted back to the problem in
hand half-way through her monologue, and was only aware that
she had stopped, not of what she had said. He looked up at
her expectant face, and could only manage another, "Sorry?"
	"Clark, you didn't listen to a word I said, did you?"
	"Sorry."
	"And you seem to be stuck on that one word. What's the
matter?"
	He looked around again to make sure no-one was nearby.
	"This." He turned his monitor on again, and Lois pulled a
chair up to sit down and read the message. He re-read it
with her, but it didn't get any better the second time
around.
	"Oh, my god."
	"Yes."
	"We have to get that letter and talk to this Molly. And you
better delete that message - and delete it from her PC
somehow. I just hope the message doesn't stay lurking in the
system somewhere for someone else to find."
	"I could ask Jimmy. Do you think you could go and find
Molly? I don't think I should meet her myself."
	"Yes, I think you're right. But we've got to find a way of
hushing her up, so she doesn't gossip to any more of her
friends."
	They fell silent while they pondered the problem.
	"Murder!"
	They both jumped at Jimmy's sudden pronouncement. Clark
dived across to switch the monitor off again, narrowly
missing the second coffee cup, while Lois looked up guiltily
at their young colleague.
	"The traffic riding in today was murder, don't you think?"
	"Jimmy, don't creep up on us like that! We could have been
working on very sensitive material," said Lois in
exasperation.
	"Sorry, I thought I was being my usual boisterous but
likeable self."
	"Well, you weren't."
	"Boisterous or likeable?"
	"Work it out yourself. Jimmy, Clark and I are actually
working on something confidential, so if you wouldn't mind?"
	"Discretion is my middle name."
	They waited until Jimmy was out of earshot before
continuing.
	"How about if I say I was playing a joke on you?" suggested
Lois.
	"What do you mean?"
	"I sent the letter to her to wind you up. Because...because
you're always denying that you're anything like Superman?
No, no, forget it, that's too near the truth."
	"I don't think we should tell her anything. We'll just end
up getting in deeper and deeper. Why don't we just tell the
truth and say we haven't a clue where the letter came from
or why someone would send it?"
	"Because she'll go blabbing to all her friends about it.
You know how fast rumours spread around here...I know! We'll
say that you're very embarrassed about it and you'd really
appreciate it if she kept it to herself."
	"I guess that's kind of the truth."
	"Yes, and if we're very lucky, she'll have a crush on you
so she'll take pity on you. Maybe you wouldn't want Superman
to hear about it either..."
	"Mmmm...I think that's the best we're going to come up
with. I'll talk to Jimmy about the email while you go and
tackle Molly."
	They reconvened an hour later. Clark confirmed that the
email was gone forever, especially since Lois had
'accidentally' deleted Molly's original by leaning on her
keyboard. Lois had found that Molly was a junior secretary
in Marketing, even younger than Jimmy, and had only been
with the Planet for a few months. The girl had been quite
embarrassed when Clark's wife had appeared in front of her,
which told Lois that she did indeed have a small crush on
him. Lois had adopted a 'big sister' approach, and persuaded
the girl that Clark would be mortified, and possibly a
little angry, if the comparison with Superman became common
knowledge.
	"Lois! I don't want her to think I'm an ogre," Clark
protested.
	"What would you prefer? One girl slightly in awe of you, or
the whole world knowing you're..." She made the 'flying'
signal with her hand.
	Clark had to concede that point. Lois had also found
Molly's friend - another junior secretary - and repeated the
story to her. Finally, she had managed to get the letter
itself away from Molly by explaining that she wanted to show
it to Clark.
	"She wrote something on it, I think," said Lois, handing
the sheet to Clark.
	Clark opened it up and immediately spotted the hand-written
message in the top left-hand corner. It said, 'I'm really
sorry if I upset you in any way. Yours forever, Molly."
	There was a little heart drawn into the loop at the bottom
of the 'y' of 'Molly'. Clark winced and showed it to Lois,
who smiled.
	"I think your secret's safe with her," she said.
	"Yes, but not with whoever did this," he countered.
	His heart sank when he looked at the rest of the letter. At
the top, there was a picture of Clark next to one of
Superman. The pictures had been quite carefully chosen so
that both showed a similar profile, and Clark's glasses had
been air-brushed away, which left only hair-style and attire
to distinguish the two images. The text said simply that
Clark Kent was Superman, pointed out that the two had never
been seen in public together, and said that positive proof
of the claim would be provided in the near future. Clark was
pondering the accuracy of the assertion that they had never
been seen together, when he was brought up short by his
editor.
	"I hope that's the final draft of your piece on the mayor's
re-election campaign, because if it's not, the front page is
going to look mighty bleak. 'Lane and Kent Quit After Brief
But Stunning Career.'" Perry outlined the headline in
mid-air with his hands.
	Clark screwed up the letter in his hand and threw it in the
trash with a breezy lack of caution.
	"Almost there, Chief! Just a couple more changes, don't you
think, Lois?"
	He turned to his partner, who had followed the letter's
path into the trashcan and was now staring intently at it.
When she didn't respond immediately, Clark re-prompted,
"Lois?"
	She looked up with wide eyes at Clark.
	"Uh, yes, it's compete rubbish. Not true at all," she said
with conviction.
	"Ah honey, I don't think we thought it was that bad. There
was just that bit at the end - the bit about the mayor's
daughter?" Clark glared at her, willing her to pick up his
lead.
	"That's what I meant. The daughter bit. No good at all.
We'll have to change that."
	"Well, people, you've got 10 minutes. And that's 10
Perry-minutes, not 10 Perry-but-we-need-more-time-minutes,
OK?"
	"OK, Chief," replied Clark.
	Lois waited until Perry was out of sight, and then
scrambled frantically in the trashcan to retrieve the
letter. She couldn't find it.
	"Got it?" asked Clark.
	"No!" she hissed. "Why did you have to throw it in here?"
	"I knew exactly where it was until you started rummaging
around in there."
	"Well, be my guest!"
	Clark bent over to conduct a super-search, while Lois stood
nonchalantly in front of him to hide the blur of his
movements.
	"OK," he said, and straightened up. Lois went back to her
own desk.
	For the rest of the day, they carefully skirted the subject
uppermost in their minds, and it wasn't until after dinner
that Clark reached around to the back pocket of his pants to
pull out the letter. He spread it out on the table and
stared at it.
	"Photocopied, I'd say. Standard paper you can buy at any
office supply store, and the fonts are as common as the
paper."
	"And those pictures could have come from anywhere - the
Planet, any number of glossy magazines, the Internet...any
super-clues?" suggested Lois.
	Clark pushed his glasses down his nose and scanned both
sides of the sheet.
	"None that this superman can detect," he reported,
replacing the glasses.
	"OK, so that leaves us with motive."
	"And who knows about me?" added Clark.
	"No-one who would do this."
	"So maybe someone's just guessing."
	"Pretty accurate guessing - I wish they could guess the
lottery numbers for me," remarked Lois.
	"Yeah. But I don't see what else it could be."
	"Well, let's say they are guessing. Why?"
	"For the hell of it? Because they don't like me? Because
they're nuts? All of the above?" Clark burst out of his
chair and started pacing up and down as he spoke. "Lois,
this is scary. Someone knows, or thinks they know I'm
Superman, and we have no idea who they are, how many people
they might have told, and why they're even doing this. I
don't have any idea how to even start dealing with this."
	Lois watched him pacing, his pent-up frustration and
anxiety expressing itself in the way his arms flailed around
as he talked.
	"You start by not over-reacting - Clark, what's got into
you? I'm usually the one who goes off the deep end, not
you."
	"You're not the one whose life is about to be torn apart,"
he retorted.
	"Sorry?" said Lois icily.
	"I said, you're not the one-" He stopped pacing as he
realised what he had just said. "Oh god, Lois, what am I
saying? Of course your life would be affected just as badly
as mine." He crouched down beside her chair and put his arm
around her shoulders. "That was unforgivable. I'm sorry."
	"Yes, well, don't let it happen again," she replied.
"Clark, it's only one letter. Let's not get ourselves wound
up over it before we know if we even need to bother."
	He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "You're right. I guess
what with the dream and then that thing in the shop, I'm a
little over-anxious. Let's think about something else."
	"Like what?"
	He leaned in for a more leisurely kiss. "Oh, I don't know.
Got any ideas?"
	She returned the favour. "One."
	"Oh?"
	"Come upstairs and I'll show you."

	The following day, they barely made it through the elevator
doors before Jimmy was bounding up to them.
	"Perry wants to see you in his office right away. And by
the look on his face, I'd say it's not to tell you that
you've been nominated for another Kerth."
	They glanced at each other in puzzlement, neither aware of
any serious transgressions which would incur Perry's wrath.
With clear consciences, they strode into their editor's
office.
	"Shut the door," said Perry abruptly, his head still bowed
over the page he was reading. After a moment, he stood up
and went around the office closing the blinds, while Lois
and Clark sank uneasily down onto a couple of chairs,
waiting to hear the bad news. He came back to his desk,
reached inside a drawer, pulled out a sheet of paper and
placed it in front of them.
	"I received it in the mail this morning."
	For a second, the world stood still for Clark. His mind
went blank, all sound ceased, and there was just him and the
anonymous letter Molly had received on the desk. Then
everything came rushing back, and he was aware of his heart
thudding in his chest, the silence in Perry's office, the
background noise from the newsroom, Lois' own heart thumping
almost as loud as his own, the vague rumble from the presses
below. He looked up at Perry, positive that the blind panic
he was feeling was written all over his face, despite his
efforts to project only mild surprise.
	"Before you say anything, let me tell you that I know
you're not Superman." Perry gazed at him steadily, his
expression unreadable.
	Clark could only nod slightly.
	"But while I know that, plenty of other people won't be so
sure. So you'd better have some watertight proof ready,
because I'm not the only one who's received one of these
letters today."
	"Who else-"
	"Chief, it's not that easy-"
	They began together, but Perry silenced both of them with a
hand.
	"I'm going to give you half-an-hour's peace and quiet in
this office to figure things out, but I doubt I'll be able
to hold the outside world off for longer than that. You have
my total support on this, but it won't be long before I get
pressure from the top brass to make a statement. I've
assigned Edwards to the story-"
	"Perry! This is our-" started Lois.
	"-because the Planet is not a forum for individuals to
write their own defences in. We have to maintain some kind
of impartiality in this thing - we'll have an opinion, don't
get me wrong, but it will be the Planet's, not yours or
Clark's. So Edwards will write the story, and you'll do the
research. We'll supply proof that Clark and Superman are two
different people, but the main part of our coverage will be
on why someone would spread these rumours about Clark. OK?"
	"I still say we should write the story," said Lois.
"Edwards is a good writer, but he'll never be able to get
inside the story like we can."
	"And it will just slow things down if we have to keep
explaining things to him before they get written," added
Clark.
	The last thing either of them wanted was a stranger getting
involved in their story, especially when they were going to
have to massage a few facts to present things the way they
needed them to be.
	"People, as long as I'm this side of the desk, Edwards is
writing the story. No arguments. So get thinking about what
you want him to say, because I want something in the late
edition. And to answer your earlier question, at least five
other people at the Planet got letters, my next-door
neighbour got one and so did the shoe-shine guy outside."
	As he got up to leave, he added, "One more thing. The press
are going to be all over you very soon, so you might want to
consider working at home for a few days. Jimmy has a couple
of laptops waiting for you if you do."
	He walked out and closed the door. Clark looked at Lois.
	"He knows," he said.
	"You think so? I wasn't so sure."
	"Lois, he knows. Did you see the way he looked at me when
he said he knew I wasn't Superman? I'm telling you, he
knows."
	"Maybe. Anyway, it doesn't really matter, does it? He's on
our side, whatever he knows."
	"Yes, thank goodness. We're lucky to have him."
	"And each other." Lois reached over for Clark's hand, and
he pulled her into his lap to hug her close.
	"This is going to be tough," he said into her hair.
	"Yes."
	"We're going to be OK, though, aren't we?"
	"Sure. We can handle this. We have two ace reporters,
brains, good looks and Superman on our team. How can we
fail?"
	"That's what I thought."
	Clark was quiet for a second, and then ventured, "Who's the
brains and who's the good looks?"
	"I'm the brains, of course."
	"Well, thank you. I think."

	They held each other for a long time, both clinging to a
last few minutes of tranquillity before the media storm
erupted. Finally, they pulled apart and began to discuss
their immediate plans. They decided to take up Perry's offer
of working from home, even if it meant that their house
ended up turning into a mini-fortress. It somehow seemed
easier to limit the number of places where they were likely
to be pursued by the media, and it also might give the rest
of the Planet's staff the chance of some peace and quiet to
get on with their jobs. Clark rang his parents to warn them
of the impending upheaval, whereupon Jonathan immediately
offered to come to Metropolis to lend support. Clark thought
it was better if they all kept things as normal as possible,
rather than give the press anything extra to write about, so
eventually they all agreed that the older Kents would stay
in Smallville at least for the next few days.
	Emerging from Perry's office was the first in a series of
difficult encounters for the couple. Clark felt as though
every eye in the newsroom was centred on them as they
hurried across to the elevators. The elevator took forever
to arrive, and then when it did, it decanted Ralph, who
grinned and said, "Hey, Kent, where's the cape?"
	Clark pushed past him, 'accidentally' knocking the man's
shoulder as he passed. Lois watched him reel and stumble
down the ramp as the elevator doors closed, then turned to
Clark.
	"That wasn't so clever. Now he'll be talking all day about
how strong you were when you knocked into him."
	"I know. The guy just has this knack of bringing out the
worst in me. I'm sorry."
	"Yes, well, it raises an important point. You've got to be
extra careful from now on - no sneaky super-powers when you
think no-one's looking, for instance. You'll just have to
drink cold coffee like the rest of us."
	"Oh, joy."

	By the time they reached their house, a small crowd of
reporters had already gathered in the street. They had
agreed in the car not to say anything until they had worked
out some basic tactics, but it was harder than they had
expected to remain silent when faced with a barrage of
probing, accusatory questions. Lois' patience snapped and
she whirled at the top of the stairs to confront the pack,
but Clark yanked her inside and slammed the door shut. The
phone was already ringing, so he strode over to it, said
"We're not home," to whoever was on the other end, replaced
the receiver and pulled the cord out from the wall.
	"Clark! What if someone genuine needs to contact us?"
	"I borrowed Jimmy's cell-phone."
	"Oh, boy, this should be interesting."
	"I know. We'll have to arrange some sort of code with the
people we want to talk to...maybe use a different name when
we answer the phone so that Jimmy's friends don't find out
we've got his phone."
	"I hope his social life doesn't take too much of a beating
because of this."
	"The rest will do him good."

	Clark rang first his parents and then Perry to set up a
system which they could all use to establish safe
communications while Lois made a big pot of coffee and
brought in a plate of double fudge crunch bars and
Ding-Dongs. When Clark raised his eyebrows at the pile of
chocolate-laden junk food, Lois explained succinctly,
"Comfort food."
	They settled down in front of the provisions to discuss the
Planet's initial response to the accusations. Clark
suggested they make a list of proof for and against, which
took them all of 10 seconds.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
	Proof that he is
	-------------------
	They look similar
	They are hardly ever seen together
	Superman appeared in Metropolis at roughly the same time
that Clark arrived

	Proof that he's not
	-----------------------
	They've been seen together at two press conferences
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
	Lois sighed deeply.
	"Is that really all we can come up with for the 'not'?"
	"It's a pretty good 'not'. I'd say that one 'not' is worth
all those others put together," countered Clark.
	"Maybe. I just hope Edwards can make something more out of
it."
	They turned their attention again to the question of who
might want to expose Clark as Superman. Lists were made of
Clark's old adversaries and hypotheses drawn up to explain
motive, but nothing seemed convincing enough to pursue
further. Half-heartedly, Clark began researching who was
still in jail and who was out, but the task felt pointless,
and after a couple of phone calls, he tossed his pencil and
pad on the table in disgust and got up to pace around.
	He was starting to realise just how difficult the situation
was. Not only did they have to contend with the media
circus, but he was also worried about how it was going to
affect his Superman activities. Now that they were stuck in
the house, how was he going to answer a call for help
without his departure being seen? The last thing he wanted
was for Superman to be noticed leaving their home. And then
there was that last line in the letter. Positive proof of
the fact that he was Superman would be provided in the near
future, it had said. What form was the proof going to take,
and when was it going to happen? Would Lois be in danger?
Would his parents? It seemed as if everything was spiralling
out of his control.
	He walked over to the front door and took a look through to
the outside to see what the press were up to. Hanging around
interviewing each other, by the look of it. Funny how a few
of them were looking up at the top of the house...his
hearing suddenly picked up a noise from upstairs and he ran
up to their bedroom just in time to find someone climbing in
through the window. He grabbed the intruder by the arm and
pulled him the rest of the way into the room.
	"Can I help you?" he asked in a deliberately calm voice.
	"I was just-" the man started.
	"-Just breaking and entering? Don't you know that's
illegal?"
	"Oh, come on, Kent. Don't tell me you've never done
anything like that?"
	"What have you got there, Clark?" Lois had arrived upstairs
and was leaning up against the doorjamb.
	"Someone who thinks he's in a James Bond movie, I think.
Perhaps you'd like to leave, now? The way you came in?"
Clark pushed the man back towards the window.
	"Uh, no, the front door's fine. Maybe you could show me
where you keep the Superman suits on the way downstairs."
	Clark ignored the suggestion and steered the reporter down
the stairs towards the door. As he opened the door to eject
the unwelcome visitor, the man turned and said, "Just answer
me this. Are you Superman?"
	Clark pushed him out and closed the door.
	"How many more like that are we going to get?" he asked as
he came back inside and slumped down on the sofa.
	"More than we'd like, I expect. But Clark, you have a
question to answer."
	"What do you mean?"
	"Are you Superman?"
	He looked at her and pulled a face.
	"Well, are you?"
	"Lois, you know the answer to that question."
	"Sure, I do. But do you? Clark, people are going to start
asking you that all the time, and you have to be ready with
an answer. So what are you going to say?"
	"Nothing." He picked up a cushion and started playing with
the tassels.
	"You saw before how difficult it was to keep quiet. You'll
have to say something sooner or later."
	He fiddled some more with the cushion, pushing it into
different shapes and then tossing it up so that it spun
around in mid-air.
	"Repeat after me," began Lois. "No, I'm not Super-"
	"I can't!" he exploded, giving the cushion a final punch
before hugging it to his chest. "Lois, I can't lie to
people. It's against everything I stand for, you know that."
	"You've been lying to them almost all your adult life,
Clark. Why stop now?"
	"I never lied. I just didn't tell them certain things."
	"Like you didn't tell me certain things."
	Clark's head shot around to look at her in alarm. Surely
she'd got over that by now, he thought.
	"It's OK, I forgave you for that a long time ago. What I
meant was, we're talking semantics here. Whether you mislead
people, or tell them something directly, it amounts to the
same thing. You're leading them to believe something other
than the truth."
	"Maybe, but I still don't think it's the same as an
outright denial."
	"Clark, are you listening to me? All right, what about all
those excuses you make when you have to leave in a hurry -
you don't seem to have a problem lying then."
	"I always make sure I actually do what I say I'm going to
do as well as make the save."
	"Oh yes? Like the Cheese of the Month delivery?"
	He wrapped his arms even tighter around the cushion in a
defensive gesture.
	"Well, mostly. But anyway, I don't think it matters whether
I deny being Superman or not - people will read what they
want into whatever I say. So I'm not going to say anything."
	"Fine! Do you mind if I issue the odd denial, or do your
complicated morals extend to me as well?"
	Clark shrugged his shoulders in exasperation. "Deny all you
like. Just don't be surprised if they twist your words."
	"Clark, I'm in the business - I think I can cope. And in
case you're worried that I'll tarnish my halo, not that I
think I qualify for one, I'll say that my husband isn't
Superman, which strictly speaking is true, because I married
Clark Kent, not Superman."
	"Now who's talking semantics?"
	"Oh, shut up and go make us some lunch." Lois picked up a
cushion and threw it at him, whereupon he grabbed his own
cushion and lobbed it back at her. She managed to intercept
it before it hit her and batted it over to him, but the
unfortunate article had taken all the beating it could
stand, and stuffing flew everywhere as it burst open.
	"That's what I love about you, Lois. The way you bring out
the mature adult in me."
	"You gather stuffing, I'll get lunch."

	The next few days were miserable for the embattled couple.
Although they had managed to make their home a relative
haven of peace, whenever they left the house to go shopping
for food or any other domestic errand, they had to negotiate
the media pack camped out in the street. They had given a
couple of interviews to the more reputable newspapers and TV
stations, but mostly they were trying to avoid comment of
any kind. Jonathan and Martha had received their share of
attention, and even Perry and Jimmy had been stopped at the
entrance to the Planet to give their versions of the story.
	Despite their early misgivings, Edwards was doing a pretty
good job of balancing the increasing tide of public
speculation with solid, factual articles plugging their side
of the story. He was even managing to do it without sounding
too biased, although his trump cards - the two press
conferences - had been weakened by rumours that the
conferences had been rigged using doubles and hologram
trickery.
	"I can't believe they're saying we cheated at those press
conferences!" complained Lois when she first heard this
news.
	"Well, we did, actually," countered Clark.
	"Not the second time around, we didn't. You were real, not
a double like they're claiming."
	Clark sucked in air through his teeth.
	"I may have been real, but Superman was from another
universe. Face it, Lois, they're right. We cheated."
	"OK, but not like they mean."
	"Semantics again?"
	"We are *not* going there again!"
	"OK. So we agree to differ?"
	"You agree, I'll differ."
	"Lois!"

	Meanwhile, Clark was having to come up with increasingly
inventive ways of exiting their house to attend to people in
trouble. He had even rummaged down in their cellar to see if
he could find some way of escaping into the sewers, but
unfortunately (or fortunately from Lois' point of view) he
would have had to drill rather a long tunnel to the nearest
sewer, and he hadn't been sure what the effect on their
house and the surrounding area might have been. His spirits
finally plummeted to an all-time low when on one occasion he
nearly didn't reach a little girl who was drowning in a fish
pond, all because he had to delay his departure to escape
notice. He returned to Lois with the firmly-held opinion
that he should move out to a hotel for a few days, so that
he could do his job properly. Lois talked him out of the
plan, but only after a long session that started with Lois
offering sympathy and Oolong tea and ended with them
shouting at each other.
	By the end of the week, they were both exhausted from
endless discussions and arguments with each other and the
press. The only information they had managed to gather about
the letters was that whoever was sending them out was
gradually working through the population of Metropolis -
each day a new set of people received the letter through the
post, so that more and more people were talking about it.
Perry came round with a takeout meal from their favourite
Chinese restaurant to try to cheer them up, but he ended up
being infected with their low mood and left just as
depressed as they were. Things seemed as if they couldn't
get any worse, and then Lois remembered something.
	"The Kerths!"
	"What, honey?" asked Clark absently. He was flicking
through the TV channels, trying to find something to
distract himself from his own misery. Sports would do fine,
he thought. Any sport. Even mud-wrestling.
	"I know when and where this so-called 'proof' is going to
happen."
	"Mmmm?"
	Lois grabbed the remote from him and switched the TV off.
	"Listen to me! If you wanted to prove to the world that
Clark Kent was Superman, and reach the most people you could
at once, you'd choose a big media event, wouldn't you?"
	"I guess."
	"So this person is going for the Kerths. There'll be plenty
of press coverage - nothing but press, in fact - and we're
up for an award, so they know we'll be there. If we win the
award, it'll be even better for him or her."
	Clark stared at Lois in dawning comprehension.
	"Maybe we better not go," he said.
	"No, I think we should. It'll be the best chance we've got
to smoke this person out. Besides, I've already bought the
dress."
	"Lois, don't you think that's a bit dangerous? He/she
exposes me, then the whole world knows I'm Superman. What
then?"
	"Then we find out who it is and expose them."
	"That's great, but in the meantime what do I do? Retire?"
	"No, then we prove that you're not Superman."
	"How?"
	"We'll think of something."
	"What?"
	"Well, maybe this person's so-called proof won't be that
good. So we expose them, disprove their theory, and live
happily ever after."
	Clark rolled his eyes at her.
	"OK, so maybe I'm taking a risk. But what else do you
suggest we do - just lie down and let them trample all over
us? I'm tired of defending all the time, Clark. I want to go
on the attack."
	"Sounds like I'm the one who's going to get attacked."
	"Don't worry, I'll save you."
	"Aren't I the one who's supposed to say that?"

	Clark continued to have reservations, but he had to
sympathise with Lois' desire to take action. He was weary of
staying cooped up in their house, and whatever happened, at
least the Kerths would provide a welcome night out. The one
precaution they decided to take was for Clark to leave the
Superman suit behind for the night, just in case someone
tried to jump him and rip his shirt open.
	The days leading up to the awards were just as frustrating
and fruitless as the previous week, although they were
becoming more adept at dealing with the media attention they
received wherever they went. Clark somehow managed to
maintain a non-committal silence when asked directly about
whether he was Superman or not, and Lois got better at
controlling her temper when she felt that the reporters were
intruding too vigorously into their private lives. All this
made the barrage of press outside the award ceremony itself
a little easier to cope with, and it was with high spirits
that they finally made it inside to greet Perry and Jimmy.
	"Lois! You look so se...stunning!" Jimmy decided just in
time that his first choice of adjective might not be wholly
appropriate.
	"Why, thank you, Jimmy. You don't look so bad yourself."
	"This? Oh, yeah, well, my dad said it was time I started to
smarten up my image."
	"Well, you made a good start," said Clark.
	"How's it going, Clark? You looked like old media star pros
out there," asked Perry.
	"Practice makes perfect, Chief," replied Clark with a touch
of irony.
	"I guess so."
	"Ah, Chief," Clark was fiddling with the knot in his tie,
"I just remembered I didn't lock the car. Excuse me." He
dashed off towards the door.
	Lois saw him go, and broke off her conversation with Jimmy
to run after him. She caught up with him as he was pushing
back through the throng of people outside.
	"Clark!"
	He half turned to look at her, his eyes revealing a mind
already focused on the crisis he had been called to.
	"Where are you going?" she asked him.
	"The car." The last word was spoken through gritted teeth.
	Lois pulled up very close to him and said softly in his
ear, "Leave it to the authorities. You can't go now, you're
not dressed for it."
	He made to pull away from her, but she held on to him. He
leaned forward to whisper fiercely, "I can't just ignore
this! People could get hurt."
	"Clark, no. You made a choice, now stick to it."
	His face was a mass of agonised indecision, and for a
moment she thought she was going to lose the battle, but at
last he relented and followed her back into the building.
His contribution to the ensuing conversation was minimal
though, as he continued to be preoccupied by the unwelcome
decision he had been forced to take. He was straining to
track the progress of the crisis, a fire downtown, using his
superhearing, so that the voices around him became only a
background murmur. He was just beginning to tune in
sufficiently to work out that the fire department had
arrived, when he was abruptly brought back to his current
surroundings by a heavy hand on his shoulder.
	"Clark, are you still with us?" asked Perry.
	"Chief!" He shook himself mentally. "Sorry, I was miles
away."
	"Look, son, I know you're worried about what's going to
happen tonight, but try to put that to one side and let
yourself have a good time."
	"I'll certainly try, Perry."
	"Good! Come on, let's find our seats."

	"And now we come to the award which in many ways is at the
heart of our business - the Kerth Award for Best Reporter.
Here to read the nominations and present the award is
five-time winner and now best-selling author, Mike Newman!"
	"Yes, but how many people have actually read the book?"
whispered Lois to Clark, a little too loud for his liking.
He hushed her with a glare as he joined in the clapping with
the rest of the audience.
	"The nominations for Best Reporter are: Bill Redford, for
his series on the homeless of Metropolis, Catherine James,
for her work on the London affair, and finally, the
reporting team of Lois Lane and Clark Kent, for their expose
of Senator Booth. And the winner is..." He fumbled with the
envelope in what Lois considered a clumsy attempt to draw
out the excitement, then took his time reading the card
before continuing, "This reads longer than one of my
novels!"
	A half-hearted laugh spread around the impatient audience.
	"Seriously, folks, the winners are Lois Lane and Clark
Kent. Congratulations, guys!"
	Lois and Clark leapt up and hurried up to the stage to
accept the award. As they switched places with Mike Newman
behind the podium, Lois said out of the corner of her mouth
to Clark, "Only one trophy? I thought we'd get one each!"
	Clark nearly burst into a fit of giggles as Lois moved
smoothly into their acceptance speech.
	"Thanks, Mike. You really had us on the edge of our seats
for a second there!"
	"Pity my books don't have the same effect," replied the
journalist-turned-author on a mike off-stage. There was
another titter from the audience before Clark took over.
	"Writing a story is a team effort, not-," he faltered for a
split second before continuing,"-not just involving Lois and
me, but for-" He gasped and put a hand on the podium to
steady himself.
	Lois snaked an arm around his waist to lend him support,
whispering, "What is it?"
	He made another attempt to continue. "But for everyone at
the Daily Planet. So we...we'd like...we..." He stopped and
put his other hand on the podium to hold himself upright,
whilst drops of sweat gathered on his forehead and his
breathing became laboured. He was vaguely aware of Lois
gripping him tightly around the waist, and the audience
murmuring in the background, but mostly he was aware of a
familiar agony creeping through his body.
	There was a loud whistle from the house PA system, and then
a new voice cut in.
	"As Mr Kent appears to be having some difficulty
continuing, permit me to take over and introduce you to the
attractive young lady who has just walked on stage."
	All eyes turned to gaze at the tall, dark-haired woman who
had appeared on the other side of the stage. Her hair was
piled up into a bun with a large but stylish black pin the
size of a knitting needle apparently holding the whole lot
in place. She was wearing very high strappy black sandals,
and her dress was a figure-hugging sheath made of what
appeared to be fine white fur with black spots.
	The voice continued, "You will notice that she is holding a
beautiful green rock - show the ladies and gentlemen the
kryptonite, Cruella."
	Cruella walked to the front of the stage, displaying the
large chunk of kryptonite on the palm of her hand, while
Lois thought to herself, Cruella?
	"Yes, I'm afraid her name really is Cruella," said the
disembodied voice. "Now, please note that as Cruella brings
the kryptonite closer to Mr Kent, he becomes even more
distressed."
	And sure enough, as the woman walked towards Lois and
Clark, he loosened his grip on the podium and crumpled to
the floor. Lois rushed at Cruella, all the time wondering
where on earth security had got to. Her collision with the
woman told her that she was no match for Cruella, and she
was left sprawling on the floor while Cruella reached Clark
and manhandled him into a sitting position against the
podium like a rag doll.
	"Why does Mr Kent faint in the presence of kryptonite, I
hear you ask? Why, because he is Superman, of course. And
Cruella will now provide the final proof before your very
eyes."
	Cruella yanked Clark's glasses off and ripped open his
shirt.
	"And there you have it, the famous blue suit, worn under Mr
Kent's street clothes in case...Oh. I see Mr Kent is one
step ahead of me, and has decided not to wear the suit
today. No matter, I think my point is made with the
kryptonite.  Clark Kent, ace reporter and doting husband, is
in fact Superman, your friendly neighbourhood alien. Puts a
whole new slant on the word honesty, don't you think? I
leave you with that thought while I make my escape."
	Lois made another attempt to pull Cruella away from Clark,
but only succeeded in getting a handful of black and white
fur.
	"Somebody do something!" she shouted desperately.
	Somehow, her cry for help galvanised everyone into action,
and soon the stage was crowded with people. Cruella was
dragged away by several burly stage-hands, while Lois and
Clark were surrounded by members of the audience, Kerth
Award staff, the stage manager and photographers who seemed
to have materialised out of thin air. Amongst the melee,
Lois did her best to care for Clark, who was obviously still
in great pain although barely conscious. She pulled her
jacket off, fashioned it into a pillow and eased it behind
his head, all the while scanning frantically around the
forest of legs and feet to locate the kryptonite.
	She was about to ask for help to move him away from the
scene when Jimmy hunkered down on the floor beside her and
asked, "What can I do to help, Lois?"
	"I need to get him away from all this and back home."
	"He looks awful sick. Shouldn't he be in the hospital?"
	"He-he just forgot to take his medication," she explained,
inventing wildly.  "He'll be fine once I get him home."
	"Lois! Clark never mentioned he was sick."
	"He's not - I mean he is - I mean it's nothing serious,
it's just something that flares up very occasionally. Jimmy,
can you help me carry him out of here?"
	Jimmy looked doubtful. "Hold on, I think I saw the Chief a
second ago - I'll ask him to help us." He stood up and
scanned around for Perry.
	While Jimmy was locating Perry, Lois searched inside
Clark's jacket for the spare pair of glasses he usually kept
there. She popped them on him just before Jimmy and Perry
reappeared at her level and began to lift Clark up.
	"The stage manager says we can use his office," said Perry.
	The three of them managed to beat a path through the
growing crowd to the office at the back, where Jimmy and
Perry eased Clark down onto a chair while Lois forced the
door shut against the pressing tide of onlookers.
	"Thank god!" she exclaimed into the sudden quiet of the
room. She rushed over to Clark, who was stirring a little
from his faint.
	"It's OK, Clark honey, I'm here."
	She glanced around for another chair, and both Jimmy and
Perry nearly collided as they grabbed for the nearest one in
their haste to help her out. Smiling faintly, she said,
"Thanks, guys," before sitting down and leaning over to take
Clark's hand in hers. His eyes fluttered and opened at her
touch, and he turned slowly to look fuzzily at her. She gave
him her warmest smile.
	"Welcome back."
	"What-what happened?"
	"You fainted on the stage, honey. You must have forgotten
your medication," Lois explained, hoping he would catch on.
	"My medication?" he frowned in confusion.
	"You know, for that thing you sometimes get."
	"Oh. Yes, that thing," he agreed, clearly still puzzled by
her explanation.
	"He's still a bit out of it," Lois told Perry and Jimmy,
who were watching the exchange curiously. She rummaged in
her purse and pulled out her car keys. Holding them out to
Jimmy, she asked, "Could you get the car out of the parking
lot and bring it round to the stage door, please?"
	"Sure, Lois."
	"Don't wreck it," she added with a smile to show she didn't
mean what she said.
	"Me, Lois? I'm the best driver in Metropolis," he protested
as he opened the door, forgetting about the crowd on the
other side. As they tried to push inside, Perry leapt
forward and grabbed the nearest one by the collar.
	"Now look here, you miserable crowd of vultures! There's
nothing to see here, just a sick man and his wife trying to
care for him, so y'all go away and find someone else to
hound. There'll be plenty of time later to answer your
questions. And let the boy through, he's just trying to
help."
	The crowd pulled back a little at his words, and Jimmy took
the opportunity to squeeze through them, keeping his eyes
resolutely forwards on the door he was aiming for.
	Perry continued, "The next time I open this door, I don't
want to see any of you there. Some of you should know
better, like you, Jefferson." Perry pointed an accusatory
finger at a man in the middle of the crowd. "Wasn't it you
who wrote that article about media harassment?"
	"That was dif-," started the man, but Perry ignored him,
pushed his captive back into the crowd and slammed the door
shut, barely missing the nose of a tall lady near the front.
	"Thanks, Perry," said Lois.
	"They won't all go, but maybe some of the hangers-on and
the ones with consciences will."
	Clark spotted a water cooler in a corner of the room and
stood up to help himself to some, but promptly crashed back
down into his chair as a wave of dizziness and nausea
overtook him. Perry put a hand on his shoulder.
	"I'll get it, son."
	He fetched the water and handed it to Clark, who took it
gratefully and began to sip cautiously. Perry leaned over
and studied his reporter.
	"You sure gave us all a fright there, son. Are you positive
you shouldn't go to the hospital? You don't look all that
great to me."
	"I just need to rest some, Perry. But thanks for asking."
	The truth was, he really felt pretty horrible. He wasn't
sure if it was the tension leading up to the awards, or the
suddenness of the attack, but he felt a whole lot worse than
he usually did. Maybe it was the size of the piece of
kryptonite - it had to be one of the biggest he had seen
since that first encounter in his father's workshop.
Whatever it was, he just wished he could magic himself and
Lois back home, into bed and away from this nightmare. Kind
and well-meaning though Perry and Jimmy were, he was aware
of the unspoken questions in their minds, and he didn't feel
up to coping with the pressure of that, as well as keeping
up the Clark-only persona. He just wanted to be himself.
	"We'll be home soon, honey, don't worry," said Lois.
	He smiled wanly. "How do you always know what I'm
thinking?"
	"They teach you it at school. They say, 'Girls, a good wife
always knows what her husband is thinking, so you must learn
to be psychic.' So we did."
	"So that's what you were doing while we were making shelves
in woodshop."
	"That, and a whole lot more. Here." She pulled her chair up
close to his, put her arm around his shoulders and drew him
to her so that he was using her shoulder as a pillow.
"Better?"
	"I'm glad you went to a good school, Lois," he answered as
he closed his eyes and tried to relax into her soft embrace.
Lois felt his forehead with her other hand, noting that it
felt hotter than usual. Where was Jimmy?
	"I wonder what happened to the ceremony," remarked Lois to
Perry.
	"I think they abandoned it. I reckon by the time the fuss
had died down on stage, they would have been running too
late to carry on."
	"I hope someone rescued our trophy."
	"I'm sure one of the award staff will have picked it up."
	They fell silent for a time, both having lost interest in
small-talk. At last, Jimmy returned from his mission.
	"It's parked just outside the door, so all you have to do
is walk out and get in," he said, handing the keys back to
Lois.
	"Thanks, Jimmy."
	"Do you want a blanket to hide Clark's head?" he offered.
	"Jimmy, he's sick, not a criminal!" exploded Perry.
	"I just thought it might help," muttered Jimmy, subdued by
Perry's scathing words.
	"Jimmy, it was a kind thought, but we'll manage fine as we
are," placated Lois. "Clark, honey?"
	"Mmmm?" He opened his eyes and straightened up in his
chair.
	"You up to a short walk?"
	"Guess so."
	"What's it like out there, Jimmy?" asked Perry.
	"Not too bad. I think most people got bored waiting and
went home."
	"Let's get this show on the road, then."
	Clark stood up carefully, and Jimmy and Perry stood on
either side of him for support and to repel any over-zealous
reporters. Lois went ahead of them to clear a path, and in
this fashion, they made it to the Jeep without serious
incident. A couple of die-hards shot questions at Clark and
Lois, but gave in when it was clear that no answers would be
forthcoming. Both Jimmy and Perry offered to ride home with
them, but Lois declined the offer, thinking on the whole
that it would be more restful for Clark if they were alone
for a time.
	"You know, we could go to a hotel for the night if you'd
like. It might be quieter," suggested Lois as they drove
home.
	"The thought had crossed my mind too, but I want to go
home. I want to be in our house, in our bed, drinking our
Oolong tea."
	"I'm glad you do, because I do too. I just hope the press
pack hasn't grown too much since tonight's episode."
	They were in luck. As Lois drew up outside their house,
there were only a couple more reporters than usual loitering
in the street. Clark sighed.
	"I never thought I'd regret buying a house with a staircase
outside."
	Lois looked over at him. He looked completely miserable.
	"Poor honey, you're feeling really rough, aren't you?"
	He nodded slightly, closing his eyes as he did so.
	"Well, let's see what I can do about that rabble, at
least." She unbuckled her seatbelt, got out of the car and
marched up to the journalists.
	"As you probably all know by now, my husband isn't very
well. He could do with some support walking up these stairs,
so which one of you big strong guys is going to help him?"
She waited while they shuffled their feet awkwardly and did
nothing. "Or are you all too scared to be different, to show
you might actually care about something?" When they still
didn't move, she grabbed the arm of the nearest one. "Come
on, Ed, you'll do."
	It was a gamble, but it paid off. The reporter came
willingly around to Clark's side of the Jeep, and dutifully
helped him up the staircase. The rest of the pack kept a
respectful distance, and thus Lois and Clark made it into
their house without being asked another unwelcome question.
	Once safely inside with the door closed, Clark nearly
fainted again with relief at finally escaping the public
eye. Lois caught him just in time, saying, "Whoa, Clark!
Just one more staircase to go, and then you can let go."
	So Clark reached inside himself to find the inner reserves
necessary to conquer the final challenge of this eventful
day, and made it into their bedroom more or less under his
own steam. But that was it. He had nothing left to give. He
lay down on their bed, and let Lois undress him, pull the
bedclothes over him, bathe his hot forehead, and feed him
sips of Oolong tea until he lay back and fell into a deep,
dreamless sleep.


	"Don't worry, Martha, he'll bounce back. I'll keep him at
home today, then tomorrow I can always take him to see Dr
Klein if he's still not right. But I'm sure he'll be fine,
it was just the shock and the amount of kryptonite he was
exposed to...yes, I'll tell him. You and Jonathan take care
now...bye."
	Clark opened his eyes to see Lois sitting cross-legged on
the bed, fully clothed and just shutting up the cell-phone
following the end of her conversation with his mother.
	"Morning," she said when she saw he was awake.
	"Morning."
	"How are you feeling?"
	"Not too sure...ask me again when I've woken up properly.
What did my mom say?"
	"Don't over-exert yourself."
	He smiled ruefully. "That's my mom."
	"Want some breakfast?"
	He hesitated. Breakfast sounded good, but Lois' breakfast?
He wasn't sure that in his present fragile state he could
withstand the challenge. She saw his hesitation and punched
him playfully on the arm.
	"Don't worry, I ordered in."
	"I didn't mean-"
	"Yes, you did. Don't you remember, I'm psychic? Now, stay
there and I'll bring it to you."
	She hopped off the bed and disappeared downstairs before he
could protest. Now that he was more fully awake, he was
aware of a certain need. He didn't want to spoil her treat
for him, so he leapt out of bed as quickly as he could
manage, dashed to the bathroom, and was just pulling the
bedclothes up around himself again when Lois reappeared
carrying a tray laden down with breakfast goodies. Laying
the tray on his lap, she leaned over and put her face close
to his.
	"You cheated," she accused sternly.
	"What?" Clark was all innocence.
	"You got up. That's not allowed." She leaned in closer
still and kissed him. After a moment, Clark pulled away.
	"Not even for emergencies?" He kissed her back, and this
time it was Lois' turn to pull away.
	"As long as they're not super-emergencies, I guess."
	"Then I definitely didn't break the rules. Supermen never
do, you know. It's in the handbook."
	"There's a handbook?"
	"Oh, yes. But it's not finished yet, I'm still writing it."
	"When will it be finished?"
	"Well, it's a lifetime's work." He kissed her again. "And
I'm still learning lots."
	"But you're definitely-" They kissed again. "-improving."
	"I have a good teacher."
	"And right now, teacher says eat your breakfast."
	Lois reached up abruptly to lay her hand on his forehead.
It still felt a little warm to her, and she said so.
	"That's just my naturally radiant character," explained
Clark.
	"Yeah. And I'm Peter Pan."
	She decided to let him off the hook for the time being
though, instead commanding him again to eat. She resumed her
cross-legged position on top of the bed beside him, but
within striking distance of the breakfast tray.
	"So. I have a theory about last night's mystery voice," she
began, munching on a croissant.
	"So have I."
	"I think it was Tempus."
	"So do-"
	"I know it didn't sound much like him, b-...you do?"
	"Yes, I think he was disguising his voice. But the
inflection was his, and the whole style of the thing was
his."
	"But what's his motive?"
	"Exactly. Why would he suddenly decide to expose me now,
when he's known all along who I am?"
	"Maybe we should be asking why he hasn't done it before,
rather than why he's doing it now."
	"I guess he's tried killing me. He's tried losing me in a
time vortex, and then there was that time you told me about
where he exposed my alternate self in the other universe.
That kind of back-fired on him, but maybe he thinks it'll be
different this time...in a different universe."
	"I don't see why."
	"Because we're not armed to the hilt like they were in that
other universe? Because Superman already exists in this
universe? Because I'm married to you? I don't know, Lois,
none of this makes any sense to me. I really can't see what
he's up to this time at all."
	Neither could Lois, but they continued to bat ideas around
for a while, until Lois looked down at the breakfast tray
and noticed that Clark hadn't eaten very much. She put a
hand on his arm and looked into his eyes.
	"How are you, really?" she asked.
	He sighed.
	"Just tired. Tired, and I guess a little achy. You'd think
I might get used to it, but I don't - every time it's just
as bad as the last. And just as painful." He lifted the tray
from his lap. "Time to get up."
	"You don't have to, you know. You can laze around in bed
just as long as you like, and I can attend to your every
need."
	"Now there's an offer," he said, waggling his eyebrows
suggestively. "Every need?"
	"Uh-huh."
	"Hmmm, very tempting. But actually I think I'll feel better
if I get dressed and get up properly - kind of shake
everything around a little."
	"OK, but don't forget, most offers have an expiration
date."
	"Don't worry, I'm sure I'll be taking it up long before it
expires."

	When Clark came downstairs, he decided he might as well
find out how bad things had got in the media, so he worked
his way through the TV news channels. Most stations were
carrying the story of his 'exposure' as their top story, and
all of them were taking the evidence presented as final
proof of what everyone had been talking about for days.
There were interviews with eye-witnesses, experts of all
descriptions, graphics and tables showing Superman's
activities around the city, and lots of items where media
personalities were interviewing each other, which Clark
found slightly ridiculous. His heart lifted a little when he
found a couple of interviews with eye-witnesses who took a
sympathetic attitude to his collapse at the awards,
expressing concern for his health and well-being. At least
some people were more interested in the man behind the
scandal than the scandal itself. His thoughts were
interrupted by Jimmy's cell-phone ringing.
	"Clark! Glad to hear your voice. How are you, son?"
	It was Perry, calling to check on his health. Clark assured
him that he was much better, and that he and Lois were
already back on the story. Perry had more bad news about the
media, however, saying that the phones hadn't stopped
ringing at the Daily Planet since he arrived.
	"They're demanding a statement from you, Clark."
	"Chief, I haven't got anything to say! Except, I-I'm who I
say I am."
	"I'll hold them off just as long as I can, but you're going
to have to come up with something better than that soon."
	"I'm not sure that I can."
	"Well, keep on it. I'll talk to you later."
	"Bye."
	He leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes, turning
over ideas in his mind. There were a couple that he was
toying with, but he wasn't sure what Lois would think of
them, or even how workable they were. He'd have to give them
an airing and see how they stood up to scrutiny.
	Lois came in from the kitchen carrying a bowl full of his
favourite nibbles, and laid them on the coffee table in
front of him. He opened one eye, saw what she had done and
smiled wryly.
	"Still trying to fatten me up, are we?" he asked.
	"Just making sure you keep your strength up for later. Who
was that on the phone?"
	He closed both eyes again and sank a little lower in his
seat.
	"Perry. He wants me to come up with a statement for the
media."
	"Oh, really? Well, he and everyone else are just going to
have to wait until we're good and ready. We're not going to
issue some knee-jerk reaction just for the gutter press to
twist and mangle into whatever it is they actually want to
print."
	"Agreed, but we can't keep them hanging on forever." He
paused, marshalling his thoughts. "Actions speak louder than
words, wouldn't you agree?"
	"Well, yes...I'm not going to like this, am I?"
	He opened his eyes to look at her. She was wearing one of
her wary, 'what's he going to come up with now' expressions.
	"Maybe, maybe not. What if I went out in the suit today?
People will be thinking I'm still sick from the kryptonite
so they won't be expecting to see Superman today." Now that
he'd said it out loud, it didn't sound like such a good idea
after all - he could hear her objections even before she
said anything.
	"And just what are you going to do today dressed as
Superman? Leap tall buildings, bend steel with your bare
hands? You should see yourself, Clark - I never saw someone
who looked less super right now."
	"I could probably manage a little laser vision..."
	"And give yourself a headache on top of everything else. If
people are thinking the way you expect, then you can bet
your bottom dollar that someone will be just waiting to
force a more difficult test of your abilities than that."
	He held up his hands in defence. "OK, OK, so it was a
little weak."
	"Weak? I've heard Ralph come up with better ideas!"
	The phone rang again, and Clark leaned over to answer it.
	"Hello?"
	Lois watched while his expression changed from mild enquiry
to thunderstruck.
	"How did you-," he began angrily, and then was silent while
he listened to the caller. After a couple of minutes, he
slammed the phone down on the table and shot out of his seat
to begin pacing up and down like a caged animal.
	"Clark? Who was it?" asked Lois anxiously.
	"I don't know. Probably Tempus."
	"What did he say?"
	Instead of answering, he strode up to their secret
compartment and opened it to gaze at his Superman suits.
Reaching up, he grabbed one off the rail.
	"Honey, what are you doing?" She rushed over to him and put
her hands over his. "We just agreed you can't go out."
	"That was before Tempus set up a head-on collision between
two trains."
	"Oh, no! We should phone someone-"
	"Not enough time."
	He broke away from her and made as if to take off into
flight. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts, he gave up
and stood dejected in the middle of the room, shoulders
slumped in defeat with the useless suit dangling from one
hand. Meanwhile, Lois had hurried back over to the phone and
picked it up to dial.
	"There's no point, Lois," he stated flatly.
	"We have to try!"
	"What are you going to tell them? That two trains are going
to crash, somewhere in Metropolis?"
	She looked at him, confused by what he was saying.
	"He didn't tell me where it's going to happen." He paused
and stared at her as his words sank in. "If I could fly, I'd
find them right away. As it is..." He screwed the suit up
into a ball and threw it at the wall. Lois was taken aback
by his rare display of temper and stared back at him in
shock.
	"Hello, Metropolis Transit Authority. How may we help you?"
Lois jumped as the phone squawked at her.
	"Oh! Hello. I have to tell you about a crash-"
	"If you're calling about the collision over in Gable
Heights, we already know about it. The emergency vehicles
are already on the scene. If you have relatives or friends
you need to check up on-"
	"No...are there many hurt?"
	"It's too early to say, I'm afraid. We think there are
quite a few trapped in the wreckage, but no fatalities so
far. Now, miss, our phones are very busy right now-"
	"Oh, yes, I'm sorry. Bye."
	There was sudden quiet in the room as the realisation of
what had just happened hit both of them. Lois watched Clark
as he walked over to the scrumpled-up suit on the floor,
picked it up and gazed at the 'S' logo on the front. He
muttered something inaudible and abruptly bolted upstairs.
	"Clark-," she called after him, but he was oblivious to
her.
	She slumped down on the sofa, still holding the phone. She
couldn't believe that Tempus had deliberately arranged the
crash, put innocent people in danger, just to pursue his own
warped plans. She had come across some cold-hearted
criminals in her career as a journalist, but this man was
truly amoral. Lex was ruthless and cruel, but at least he
could display love, even if it was only a twisted, misguided
love. Tempus didn't care about anyone but himself, had no
passion, no interests other than the destruction of Utopia.
His only weakness was his arrogance and the sometimes
over-elaborate nature of his plans. They would get him, she
thought, they would stop him this time, but then would he
reappear again...and again? Always there in the background,
ready to attack their way of living.
	And now she had to put Clark back together again. She would
always do her best for him, but she was running short of
energy herself. The constant battle with the media, the
strain of maintaining an outward shell of tough capability,
having to come up with more and more imaginative ways of
keeping their secret, were all taking their toll on her, and
she wasn't sure how much longer she could carry on like
this. Something had to give, something had to go their way.
	The phone in her hand rang, and she answered furiously.
	"Tempus, you sick bastard! If you're ringing to gloat-"
	"Lois? Is that you?" Jonathan's calm, measured tones,
interrupted her.
	"Jonathan! I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else."
	"Obviously. Lois, we saw the news reports-"
	"It's on the news?"
	"I'm afraid so. Are you all right?"
	"We will be...Clark's a little upset right now..."
Suddenly, her emotions got the better of her and she
couldn't continue.
	"Lois?"
	"I-I..." She was sobbing now, she couldn't stop herself.
She heard Jonathan say, "Martha, she's crying."
	Then Martha was on the phone.
	"Lois, honey, don't cry. You'll see, everything will work
out. We'll find a way to beat this evil person, and everyone
will go back to thinking that Clark and Superman are two
separate people."
	"I know, Martha," she squeaked through her tears. "It's
just all so much...and now this...I try to be strong, I *am*
strong, but..."
	"I know, dear, I know," said Martha soothingly. "Would you
like us to come to Metropolis? We can fight this together,
you, me, Jonathan and Clark."
	"I'm not sure..."
	"Four against one, *and* Superman on our team? How can we
lose?"
	Lois smiled a little despite her tears. "That's what I
said."
	"Good! We'll be there just as soon as we can. You keep
being strong, now."
	"OK."
	"Is Clark there?"
	"He's upstairs. He-he ran away from me."
	"Can I talk to him - maybe you could take the phone up to
him?"
	Lois walked upstairs to find Clark lying face down on their
bed.
	"It's your mom."
	He rolled over to face her with sad, red-rimmed eyes and
reached out for the phone. Lois sat down on the edge of the
bed near him.
	"Hi, Mom."
	"Clark, this wasn't your fault."
	"I know that, Mom."
	"So stop blaming yourself for it."
	"But-"
	"No buts. The man responsible for this is a despicable,
sick person who should be locked up forever, and you are
just an excuse for him to do these things. If it wasn't you,
he would find some other cause to hang his evil ways on. So
no self-recrimination, Clark."
	"Those people..." Thinking about the people hurt in the
crash brought fresh tears to his eyes. Lois lay down beside
him and rubbed her hand up and down his arm, smoothing away
the hurt.
	"Remember what your father and I always tell you: you can't
be everywhere at once and you can't save everybody. A train
crash like this could have happened while you were off
dealing with another disaster, and you wouldn't have been
able to rescue everyone. In a way, this is no different. You
weren't able to go to their rescue because you weren't
available, isn't that true?"
	"I guess so."
	"So, I want you to tell me it wasn't your fault."
	"Mom, that's silly."
	"I'm not putting this phone down until you say it."
	"Mom!"
	"Clark, I mean this! Tell me."
	"It wasn't my fault," he muttered into the phone.
	"Once more with conviction."
	"It wasn't my fault," he said a little louder.
	"And one more time for those of us with normal hearing?"
	"It wasn't my fault," he said in a normal voice.
	"Thank you. Now, you look after Lois, because she needs
your support right now."
	"Yes, Mom."
	"Your father and I will be there just as soon as-"
	"Mom, you don't have to come rushing over for this. We'll
manage."
	"Clark, we're your parents. Helping our son and his wife is
what we do - we want to come...what Jonathan?" There was a
pause whilst she listened to her husband. "Your father says
he's looking forward to some of your chocolate mousse.
Although don't make it too rich, honey, you know how it
gives me -"
	"Yes, Mom, I know." Clark didn't need graphic detail. "One
light chocolate mousse will be waiting for you on arrival."
	"Can I have a last word with Lois?"
	Lois took the phone back and smiled wryly at Martha's
parting words.
	"I promise I won't. Bye."
	"What did she say?" asked Clark.
	"'Don't eat all the chocolate mousse before we get there.'
As if I would!"

	Tempus turned off the TV in his hotel room and sighed
deeply with satisfaction. They made such wonderfully violent
movies in this time period that at times he felt he could
stay here forever. The only thing missing was the comfort of
his own time - here he was, living in the most luxurious
hotel in Metropolis, and he still had to fiddle with
mechanical devices to adapt the living space to his own
requirements. This morning, he had stood shivering under the
shower for five minutes until he remembered he had to switch
the taps on, adjust the device so that the water was coming
out of the showerhead, and then find the correct
temperature. And when he was finished, there was no way to
deal with the excess water on the floor other than mopping
it up manually with a towel, and he was damned if he would
stoop to that. The whole business was really extremely
distasteful.
	On the other hand, Tempus was very pleased with the way
things were going with his plan. When he had first hatched
the idea of exposing Clark Kent as Superman, the simple
elegance of the idea had amused him greatly. Tell the world
about Superman, and stand back to watch as the superhero's
private life crumbled around him until he was an emotional
wreck. Tempus didn't really understand emotional support
systems, but he'd had the help of a sophisticated computer
program which could predict future behaviour based on
current circumstances and events. The program had been
intended as a game, but Tempus had 'persuaded' its
programmer to adapt it to his own ends.
	The program had predicted that if Clark Kent were to lose
his private life, then he would also lose his ability to
lead a normal, human existence. He would become alienated
(literally, Tempus had chuckled when he first read the
results), and at the same time, Lois would find the strain
of constantly being in the limelight as Superman's wife too
exacting, and their marriage would begin to crumble. The
program suggested two possible outcomes from that point:
either the marriage would break up and Clark would be so
distressed that he would give up his activities as Superman,
or Clark would give up being Superman in order to regain his
marriage to Lois. Either way, Superman would cease to exist,
and Utopia would be destroyed.
	Best of all, the plan was legal. Well, mostly. All he was
doing was telling the truth, with the help of a simple mass
mailing campaign, a few hints to the press, and a large
chunk of kryptonite. His eyes strayed subconsciously to the
lead-lined case in the corner which contained the wondrous
substance, as he thought about how he had obtained it. Even
that was near perfect. The organisation he had stolen it
from (OK, so that wasn't quite legal) hadn't wanted anyone
to know that it possessed kryptonite, so there wasn't going
to be a police investigation into the crime. What's more,
since he stole it ten years ahead of this time period, it
wasn't even missing yet. And that idiotic Cruella woman had
never met him, so he was safe there as well. He really had
quite a talent for this, he thought, as a self-satisfied
smile played over his face.
	The train crash had been an added bonus. He had been
looking for a way to stage the disaster, when he had spotted
a weakness in the signalling system. Half an hour spent
studying timetables, a small tweak on a computer, and
everything was set. Then afterwards, a few anonymous calls
to the media, suggesting that Superman hadn't appeared
because he was still weak from the kryptonite poisoning of
the previous night, and suddenly another nail in the private
life of Superman was driven home.
	What next? Well, he still had the kryptonite...

	"Clark, that was wonderful!" Martha exclaimed.
	"Not too rich?" Clark asked.
	"Just right. Now, you and Lois take it easy while we clear
up and take care of the dishes."
	"Martha, we couldn't - you must be tired after all that
travelling," protested Lois.
	"Nonsense. Come on, Jonathan."
	Martha grabbed her husband's hand to pull him up from his
chair, rousing him from his fantasy of second helpings of
the delicious dessert. Clark read his father's mind.
	"Sorry, Dad, I only made enough for single helpings - it's
the only way to stop Lois eating it all day long." His eyes
twinkled at Lois to take the sting out of his words.
	"Are you saying I have no self-restraint?" said Lois
indignantly.
	"Depends."
	"Depends? What does that mean?"
	"Depends."
	"Clark!"
	Martha and Jonathan slipped out into the kitchen while the
younger couple continued their mock battle.
	"What do you think?" Jonathan asked Martha once they were
out of hearing range.
	"I think they both need an early night, is what I think.
Clark is exhausted, and Lois isn't far behind."
	"Yes, did you notice how they both kept dropping and
knocking things over?"
	"I was seriously concerned for the carpet when the
chocolate mousse came out."
	Jonathan chuckled. "So was I, Martha, so was I."
	By the time they returned to the living room, Lois and
Clark were slumped together on one of the sofas with their
eyes closed. Martha leaned over them and put a hand on each
of their knees.
	"Hey, you two!"
	Lois blinked her eyes open woozily. "Oh, Martha, I'm sorry.
Would you like coffee, or tea perhaps? Jonathan, what about
you?"
	"Lois, don't worry. Why don't you and Clark go on up to bed
- we can take care of ourselves."
	"Are you sure?" Bed sounded very tempting.
	"Yes, go on."
	Lois put her arm around the still-dozing Clark and squeezed
gently.
	"Hey, spaceman. Time for bed."
	"Mmmm."
	She stood up and, clasping his hands in hers, pulled him up
slowly from the sofa.
	"Is it time for bed?" he asked in a sleep-filled voice.
	"Yes."
	"Goodnight, Clark," said Martha.
	"'Night, Mom," he said as Lois led him upstairs.

	The next day they held a council of war, or so Jonathan
described it. Now that they knew who was behind the attacks,
they had to find demonstrable proof that Tempus was
responsible for everything, and also prove that he had a
motive for accusing Clark. Lois thought the motive was easy:
both Clark and Superman had been instrumental in Tempus'
downfall when he had tried to seize control of the
presidency. Clark was more sceptical - surely they had to
explain why Tempus would pick this particular method to get
back at them both. That was the point, argued Lois: his
claims had an adverse effect on both men at the same time.
Martha and Jonathan agreed, and Clark was eventually won
over by their arguments.

	Clark drifted away from the conversation as the other three
discussed ways of tracing Tempus. All this talk of proof was
all very well, but there was another kind of proof that was
still more urgent to him. He was getting heartily sick of
the almost naked feeling he had while the world thought he
was Superman. He had hidden away behind the Clark Kent
persona for so long that the thought of having to face the
world as his true self, his superpowers as obvious as his
human weaknesses, filled him with a kind of dread. It was
ironic, he thought, that he had spent his whole life wanting
to be a normal person, and when the reality of it stared him
in the face, he was afraid of it. There had been times when
he had lost himself in his dual personalities, and if it
hadn't been for his parents and Lois being there to pull him
back, he wasn't sure if he would always have been able to
sort out who he truly was. Which persona would he present to
the world if this mess was never resolved? Maybe he would
have to invent another mask to hide behind.
	And then, as he stood back from everything, it suddenly
struck him how he had managed to affect the lives of so many
with his artifice. Here were three people gathered together
with the sole purpose of maintaining his deception; outside
there were crowds of reporters hanging on his every word and
action; at the Planet his friends and colleagues were
beleaguered by the press storm he had caused; and then there
were countless thousands waiting to find out if their hero
was a liar. All this because he had decided to create a myth
to serve his own ends.
	He heard his name, and jerked his eyes up to find all three
looking at him expectantly.
	"Sorry?" he asked.
	"What do you think?" repeated Jonathan.
	"I-I'm sorry, I was miles away. Think about what?"
	He really looked as though the weight of the world was upon
his shoulders, Martha thought as Jonathan repeated their
latest idea. Sometimes she wished his sense of
responsibility could take second place to his sense of
self-preservation. No matter how many times he was told that
things were not always his fault, that he couldn't protect
the whole world, she knew that he could never completely
come to terms with this. The only time he came near to
putting himself first was in his protection of Lois. For the
safety and happiness of his wife, he would do anything, and
while he might not recognise this as self-preservation,
Martha knew that in a way it was. He needed Lois: it was
that simple.
	"I had an idea last night about proving myself," announced
Clark into a brief lull in the conversation.
	"Clark, we're talking about catching Tempus here, not
proving you're two people," said Lois a little tetchily.
	"I know, but just hear me out. What if I could show that I
was vulnerable like everyone else - I mean, *not* like
Superman?"
	"I don't like where this is going..." Lois pushed back from
the table and crossed her arms in front of her.
	"See, I could expose myself to kryptonite, and then we
could somehow stage a little accident - maybe I could cut my
finger on something-"
	"No! Don't be crazy, Clark. Everyone already knows that
kryptonite weakens you-"
	"But they don't know it makes me vulnerable to injury."
	"I think you'll find that they would make that leap of
logic fairly quickly. Let's concentrate on fighting Tempus,
shall we? Now, Jonathan, I think you're right about
Cruella...sorry, Clark, are we boring you?"
	Clark had left the table to sit with his back to them on
one of the sofas. Martha laid her hand over Lois', saying,
"I'll talk to him, sweetie."
	She got up to join Clark on the sofa, while Lois threw her
hands up in the air in despair.
	"Does anyone here want to stop Tempus? Here we all are,
doing our best to stop the guy ruining Clark's life, but is
he interested? Apparently not!"
	"Lois, why don't you and I go into the kitchen and make
some fresh coffee?" suggested Jonathan.
	"I don't need coffee, I need ideas to stop Tempus!"
	"You're right, of course, but maybe we all need a short
break. Come on, I'll show you why Martha never lets me make
the coffee at home."
	"Oh, I get it. This is the heart-to-heart chat. One takes
Clark, the other takes Lois, and we all patch things up
together."
	"If you say so, Lois. I just want to make coffee."
	"OK, OK, I'll play along. For now. Show me your
coffee-making prowess."
	They both rose and walked into the kitchen, Jonathan
casting a backward long-suffering glance in Martha's
direction as they went. She smiled faintly, and turned her
attention back to the magazine she had picked up and was
pretending to read.
	After a couple of minutes, Clark broke the silence with a
sigh. "All right, you can say it."
	"Say what, sweetie?" asked Martha, still with her head in
the magazine.
	"I'm not being fair to Lois."
	"I wasn't going to say that, honey."
	"It's just, I know it's important to stop Tempus, but I
think it's even more important to prove that I'm not
Superman. I can't move, I can't make saves properly, I can't
do anything while the whole world thinks I'm him. It's like
I'm paralysed."
	"Clark, who are you?"
	"Mom! Don't go all metaphysical on me now. Lois already
tried that."
	"She probably had good reason to. What I mean is, I think
this whole business is forcing you to answer some difficult
questions about yourself, even though you might not realise
it. You've gone your whole life hiding yourself away, and
most of your adult life acting the part of two people, and
now you're wondering what's going to happen if you can't
keep on doing that."
	She had his attention now.
	"It's scary, isn't it?" she continued.
	He nodded his reply.
	"It's like I'm being exposed... not as in, Clark Kent is
Superman, but-but *really* exposed. Like someone peeled away
the layers and found the real me inside."
	"Clark, what you have to realise is, a lot of people show
different aspects of their personality to different people.
They don't go through life being exactly the same person to
everyone they meet - they moderate their behaviour according
to circumstances. Of course, they're the same person deep
down, and that's what's important."
	"Are you saying we all go around wearing masks, pretending
we're different people than we really are?"
	"No, it's much more subtle than that. We're the same
person, it's just that different parts of that person leak
out at different times. Of course, some people take it to
extremes...we call those people politicians."
	Clark laughed. He seldom heard his mom make a satirical
joke like that.
	"That's better. I haven't heard that laugh for days," said
Martha.
	"I guess things have been getting pretty serious around
here," agreed Clark.
	"And that's why we're here. To share the load, and help you
both solve this problem."
	"Maybe what we need to do is split into two teams. One team
fights Tempus, the other finds ways to stop people thinking
I'm Superman."
	"Well...let's find those coffee makers and see what they
think."

	Lois followed Jonathan into the kitchen and leaned up
against a counter while he went through his coffee-making
ritual.
	"The important thing, you see, is to warm the pot first -
just the same as if you were making tea. And you want to
make sure the water is just shy of boiling point, otherwise
you burn the coffee."
	"So why, if you've got all this expertise, doesn't Martha
let you make the coffee?" asked Lois.
	"She says I take too long."
	"I can see why she might say that."
	"You do?"
	"You're measuring that coffee out as if it were grains of
gold."
	"I just like to do things right," said Jonathan
defensively.
	"That's what Clark says when I tell him he's being too
nit-picky."
	"Well, I guess he learned that from me."
	"I'm sure he didn't pick up his stubbornness from you,
though. That's all his own invention."
	"I'm not so sure...you'd have to speak to Martha on that
one."
	"It's just, he's so fixated on proving he's not Superman,
he's losing sight of the bigger picture."
	"And that would be?"
	"We should be concentrating on discrediting Tempus. That
way, all our problems get solved at once."
	"You think so?"
	"Of course! If everyone can see that Tempus is evil and
determined to hurt Clark and Superman, then they'll stop
believing his stories."
	Jonathan was silent while he tended to his coffee-making.
	"OK, so I'm simplifying things a little," said Lois, "but
in principle I'm right. We have to go after Tempus. He must
be stopped. I hate the way he's getting away with it all
right now."
	"Just like Clark hates everyone thinking he's Superman?"
	Lois groaned.
	"How do you do it? I come in here to watch you make coffee,
and I end up baring my soul and seeing things from Clark's
point of view."
	"I'm just making coffee here, Lois. Just making coffee."
	"Huh! I guess what we need to do is split into two teams -
the 'chase Tempus' team, and the 'Clark isn't Superman'
team."
	"Sounds good. We should-"
	Martha and Clark walked in, interrupting the conversation.
Clark walked over to Lois and hugged her close. Words were
not necessary. Martha began taking out cups and milk for the
coffee, immediately speeding up Jonathan's laborious
process.
	"We had an idea," said Clark, pulling back slightly from
Lois.
	"So did we," replied Lois.
	"We thought we should split-"
	"-into two teams-"
	"-one goes after Tempus-"
	"-and the other proves you're not Superman."
	They smiled at each other.
	"Gee, that was hard. I thought for a minute there that I
was never going to persuade you," joked Clark.
	"Yeah, well remember this, farmboy." Lois put a warning
hand on his chest. "I won't always be such a pushover, so
make the most of it."
	"Oh, I will, I will," said Clark, leaning in to kiss her
again.

	After some discussion, they agreed that Clark and Jonathan
would concentrate on ways to re-establish the split between
Superman and Clark, whilst Lois and Martha would work on
chasing Tempus. Lois was secretly a little worried about the
hare-brained schemes the two men might dream up, but at the
same time, she was pleased to have Martha on her team. The
older woman was as sharp as a pin, and definitely had that
little bit of iron in her soul necessary to fight a tough
criminal like Tempus.
	Having put the 'prove I'm not invulnerable' idea on hold,
Clark's next idea was to make use of his mother's hologram
machine again. Jonathan thought this was an excellent plan,
so after a chorus of 'be careful' from everyone, Clark made
a quick flight to Smallville to collect the device. The two
of them fiddled with it for a while until they were happy
working it, and then they started brainstorming schemes to
exploit its potential. They quickly realised that its use
was in fact fairly limited, as the hologram couldn't
interact with anyone, and finally settled on a variation of
the press conference idea Clark had used first time around.
	Meanwhile, Martha and Lois had come up with several avenues
of investigation to pursue. They could find out what Cruella
knew about Tempus, they could investigate the train crash,
and they could try to find out where Tempus might have
obtained his large sample of kryptonite. After a few phone
calls, and calling in the odd favour, Lois had managed to
arrange to visit Cruella in police custody. Leaving the men
to prepare for their hologram performance, the two women
travelled downtown to interview the only living lead to
Tempus they had.
	Lois tried to warn Martha about what conditions would be
like in the police cells, but as usual, Martha's life
experiences were broader than she would have ever expected
of a farmer's wife, and it turned out that Martha had spent
time in police custody herself, during the peace
demonstrations she had taken part in during her youth. Even
more surprisingly, Martha held her own during the interview,
asking just as many questions as Lois did, without letting
the foul language emanating from their interviewee put her
off her stride at all.
	The interview yielded only one small snippet of
information. Cruella had never met the man who promised to
pay her handsomely for her stunt at the Kerth Awards - the
initial contact had been by phone, and she had picked up an
advance payment and the kryptonite from a trashcan in the
dockyard area.
	The next obvious step in their investigation was to visit
the trashcan to see if they could find any clues, but Lois
was less than enthusiastic about taking Martha to such a
rough part of the city. She would have been far happier with
Clark, or with no-one at all, but Martha refused point-blank
to be dropped off back at the townhouse.
	"Lois, I'm not made of porcelain. And I would never forgive
myself if I let you go alone and something happened to you.
So let's just go there and get this over with as quickly as
we can."
	Nevertheless, she clung to Lois as they made their way on
foot around the dark and dingy streets near the docks. Every
so often they would pass a huddled-up form sitting or lying
in a shop doorway, and a couple of times they had to cross
the street to avoid the weaving figure of a drunk
threatening to collide with them. They even came across a
colonnade in front of an old dilapidated building which had
been turned into a kind of cardboard tent-like structure.
There were pieces of cardboard tied between the columns to
create walls, and rags strewn over the top for the roof. A
scrawny dog barked at them from behind the cardboard, making
them hurry past even faster.
	As they got nearer to the corner where the trashcan was
supposed to be situated, the street became more crowded with
sad, rag-clad figures, some of them carrying plastic cups of
steaming liquid. They rounded the corner, to find a van
parked near the trashcan, with a couple of better-dressed
men dispensing drinks and cookies from the back. Lois walked
up to one of the men.
	"Do you come here often?" she asked.
	"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" asked the man, amused.
	"What she meant was, are you often in this neighbourhood
handing out hot drinks?" said Martha.
	"Yes, this is pretty much our area. We try to come here two
or three times a week."
	"You know the people here quite well, then?"
	"We have our regulars, yes. Do you mind telling me what
you're asking all this for?"
	"We're investigative journalists-" began Lois.
	"-and we think someone might have used that trashcan as a
drop-off point," finished Martha.
	"Are you for real? I thought people only did that stuff in
the movies."
	"I know, it sounds a little off-the-wall, but believe me,
this kind of thing really does go on," assured Lois.
	"So we were wondering, have you seen anyone around lately
who didn't fit in?" asked Martha.
	"You mean, apart from you two ladies?"
	Lois smiled without humour.
	"It would have been last week, probably," prompted Martha.
	"Well, let me see now...there was that Russian guy looking
for his spy satellite, and then there was that Arab with the
Kalashnikov, but the really odd one out was the little green
man with the big bulging eyes-"
	"OK, you made your point," said Lois impatiently.
	"This is a forgotten world, around here. No-one comes here
by choice, only those who have nowhere else to go. Want some
coffee?" He offered up a polystyrene cup to them.
	"No, thanks. We'll just take a look around the trashcan and
then we'll be out of your hair."
	As they walked up to the trashcan, Martha leaned even
closer to Lois.
	"Bad choice of words, Lois, the man was bald."
	"I know." Lois looked at her mischievously.
	"Lois!"
	Lois stalked her way around the trashcan, then stopped and
sighed deeply.
	"OK, do you want to do the honours or shall I?"
	"What do you mean?"
	She took a deep breath, held it and leaned into the can.
After rummaging around for a couple of minutes, she let out
a grunt of disgust and stood up.
	"Boy, how I love this part of my job," she said, holding
her hands well away from her body. Martha wrinkled her nose
in distaste.
	"Was that really necessary?"
	"Well, the trouble is, you don't know the answer to that
question until you've tried. In this case, unfortunately,
no."
	"Here, let me try."
	Much to Lois' amusement, Martha dived in straightaway with
enthusiasm.
	"Hey, you! Get out of my trashcan!"
	Lois turned in the direction of the new voice, while Martha
popped back up from her digging. A surprisingly young man,
with long ratty hair and wearing an ankle-length greatcoat
which had seen better days, was approaching them with an
angry, possessive expression on his thin face.
	"That's mine, that is. Everyone knows that trash is mine.
Give me what you found," he demanded, holding out his hand.
	The two women backed away slightly, but managed to hold on
to their courage enough not to turn and run.
	"Oh, we're so sorry, we didn't know," said Martha
placatingly. "We don't want to steal your trash."
	"Although I'm sure it's very nice trash," added Lois.
Martha gave her an incredulous glance, but nodded in
agreement.
	"We didn't take anything. See." Both women held their empty
hands out for the young man to observe.
	"Humph! People are always trying to take my trash," he
mumbled, more calm now that it was obvious they hadn't
invaded his personal lucky dip.
	"Oh?" Lois' investigative antennae were suddenly twitching.
"Anyone else recently?"
	"There was this funny guy, talked all fancy - even more
than you. He was in my trash, but he gave me money so I let
him go."
	He looked at them expectantly, but Lois wasn't ready to
give in easily. She fished around in her purse and pulled
out a newspaper cutting showing Tempus' picture from when he
was trying to take over the presidency.
	"Did he look like that?"
	"Maybe."
	Lois rolled her eyes and produced a dollar bill. The young
man made to grab it, but she held it away from him and
looked at him with raised eyebrows.
	"OK, yes, he looked like that." Lois let him take the
dollar.
	"Would you be prepared to say that again, maybe in a court
of law?"
	"You're kidding me, lady. Why would I want to do that?"
	"Because of your strong sense of moral justice?"
	"Come again?"
	"Because this guy is a scumbag who tried to take over our
country and is now trying to destroy Superman."
	"For Superman, maybe. He's OK, that guy."
	"Well, good. What's your name?"
	"Mickey Mouse."
	Lois started to walk away, Martha following in tow.
	"Fred Price!" he called after them. Lois turned around.
	"And how do we find you again, Mr Fred Price?"
	"Come by my office anytime," he gestured broadly around the
surroundings.

	Jonathan and Clark were struggling to figure out just the
right kind of staging for their hologram stunt. They had got
as far as deciding that Clark would go outside to talk to
the reporters still hanging around there, and Superman would
make some sort of appearance at the same time. Jonathan had
suggested jokingly that Clark could go out with a tray of
coffee, tea and cookies to offer them, and Clark thought
that might not be such a bad idea. Unfortunately, there
weren't actually very many reporters outside now, and what
they really needed was someone from a respected newspaper
like the Planet to witness their little play. Clark was
toying with the idea of contacting Jimmy, but he was having
difficulty squaring this with his conscience. He didn't like
to feel that he was manipulating people, especially his
friends, to report the news as he wanted it reported.
	The other problem to sort out was just what sort of role
Superman would play in all this. Without Martha's expertise,
they weren't sure that they could make him talk at all, so
eventually they settled on a simple 'fly-by' with a wave at
Clark in passing. They practised this for a while then Clark
took a deep breath and picked up the phone to call Jimmy. He
asked his young friend to come by on the pretext of picking
up some research material for Edwards, explaining that their
email seemed to have developed a temporary glitch.
	"What temporary glitch?" asked Jonathan as Clark put the
phone down.
	"This," replied Clark, and deleted the program from his
laptop.
	"Clark, are you sure you're not getting too good at this
deception business?" Jonathan commented.
	Clark winced. "Dad, you know I don't like doing this. I'd
give anything to be out chasing down the real news, or
saving people's lives, but the fact is, I can't do any of
those things until this mess is resolved. So I've had to
learn to be a little ruthless, a little single-minded. Don't
worry, it won't last."
	Jonathan knew that some of it would stay with his son,
however. He had watched him grow up from an innocent,
wide-eyed child into a fine, caring young man who struggled
to maintain his ideals in a cynical world. Some of that
cynicism had inevitably worn off on Clark, especially since
he had assumed his Superman persona and come into close
contact with so much tragedy and cruelty. Perhaps it made
him a stronger person, but it also made him a less carefree,
light-hearted person.
	Jimmy duly arrived and Clark handed him a couple of
diskettes. The young photographer then offered to fix the
errant email program, and after a few furious clicks of the
mouse, declared, "Clark, you deleted it!"
	"I did?" Clark was all innocence.
	"Yes. You should know better than to delete program files."
	"I guess my mouse slipped."
	"Lucky for you I brought the install disks with me. This
time I'll make it read-only so you can't do it again."
	"Oh...thanks, Jimmy." That's a shame, he thought, I might
have wanted to try that again.
	Jimmy restored the program, and spent a well-meaning but
irritating few minutes showing Clark where all the program
files were kept so that he couldn't make any similar
mistakes in the future.
	"So, Jimmy! Do you have your camera with you?" asked
Jonathan.
	"Always. Why?"
	"Why?" Jonathan panicked. "Because..."
	"-because Dad was wondering what sort of camera
professional photojournalists used, weren't you, Dad?"
	"Yes, that's right. Can I see it?"
	Jimmy, glowing with pride at being called a professional
photojournalist, pulled out his camera and began to show it
to Jonathan. Clark slipped away into the kitchen, and came
back a few seconds later carrying a tray laden with mugs of
coffee and cookies.
	"I was just about to feed our permanent welcoming party,"
he gestured at the door with his elbow. "Care to join me?"
	Jimmy was amused. "You always do this?"
	"No, we're trying something new - 'Love thy press pack.'"
	He opened the front door, glancing back at Jimmy to invite
him outside with him, noting as he did so that Jimmy still
had his camera open.
	"Gentlemen!" As they moved around to look at him, he
realised something. "And lady." He smiled apologetically at
the single woman. "I feel we know each other so well now,
we're almost like family. So, since it's chilly out here, I
thought you might appreciate some hot coffee."
	The small group looked bemused as he walked down the steps
and proffered the tray to them. When he reached the woman,
she picked up a mug.
	"Thanks, Kent. It's freezing out here."
	"You could, of course, go home." He held up his free hand
quickly in defence. "Sorry, that wasn't fair - you're only
doing your job. Any more takers?"
	Come on, Dad, now would be good, he was thinking as he
handed out more coffees. I can't keep this going for much
longer.
	"How about cookies? My mom made these - they're very good."
	He picked one up himself and started munching.
	"Mmmm." Now, Dad, now!
	"Hey, what's that?" piped up Jimmy.
	All eyes turned to the red dot streaking towards them. At
last, thought Clark. As 'Superman' started to fly down the
street, Clark waved.
	"Hi, Superman!" he called.
	'Superman' turned and waved back, hovered for a
second...Clark heard Jimmy's camera click...and then he shot
away again. The woman regarded Clark cynically.
	"That was mighty convenient, Kent."
	Clark smiled and shrugged. "Just doing my job." He turned
and walked back into the house.

	The family gathered together later in the day to compare
notes. They met in the kitchen, where Martha and Clark were
preparing dinner, while Jonathan and Lois hovered from one
leaning spot to another, trying to stay out of the way.
After being shooed away for the umpteenth time, Jonathan
gave in and moved over to sit at the table. Lois adopted her
favourite loitering spot beside the fridge, and continued
her narrative. Once they had found their possible
eye-witness, Martha and Lois had paid Dr Klein a visit to
see if they could dig up anything about where Tempus might
have obtained his kryptonite. Dr Klein was emphatic that
none had gone missing from STAR Labs, and as far as he knew,
there were no other repositories - legitimate ones, anyway -
anywhere else. They borrowed one of his computers to conduct
a search around the Internet for any clues, but drew a blank
there also. At that point, they had given up, although Lois
had plans to track down Bobby Bigmouth and find out if there
were any illegitimate sources around.
	Clark reported on the ruse with the hologram machine, and
was fairly confident that there would be some reportage the
following day on the Superman sighting.
	"They were all pretty cynical about the timing, so I guess
they won't be too kind to us, but they also won't be able to
deny the evidence. Maybe it will be enough to make a few
people think. Hand me that big knife, would you, Mom?"
	"What do you think Perry will do?" asked Martha, passing
over the implement.
	"He'll tell Jimmy off for not getting a better picture, and
then he'll assign Edwards to write the story anyway. Clark,
aren't you going to cut all that fat off?" said Lois.
	"You need some for flavour. Edwards will write a story
biased in our favour-"
	"-and then Perry will edit it into something more balanced.
I swear I've put on pounds since being married to you Clark
- your cooking will be the death of me."
	"I could say something now, but I won't." He ducked as she
threw an oven mitt at him. "Hey!"
	"Just trim that fat, buster."
	He put his knife down and advanced on her with an onion.
	"OK, no backseat cooks here." He put the onion on the
counter beside her and pointed at it. "Chop."
	"Rings or chunks?"
	"You can make a scale model of the Washington Monument, for
all I care. Just chop."
	"OK, OK."
	Lois chopped her onion and then went into the dining room
to set the table. Something caught the corner of Lois' eye
as she was working, but when she glanced up, there was
nothing to see. She turned back to the cutlery on the table,
but again, something moved at the periphery of her eyesight
and she had to look to see what it was. This time, she could
just make out a faint shimmering effect over by the front
door. As she watched, the effect intensified, until it was
as if she was looking at an upright sheet of wavy glass
hovering in mid-air. She sidled into the kitchen, keeping
her eye on the effect all the while, and announced, "Uh,
guys. You might want to come out here. Something...unusual
is happening."
	Puzzled, the other three followed her out into the living
room, where the wavy effect appeared to have gained a dark,
indistinct shape in its centre. As they watched, a hand
pushed out of the effect, followed by the rest of a
shortish, dapper man dressed in a sober business suit. Once
he had emerged, the peculiar effect behind him dissipated
and the room was restored to its usual appearance. For a
moment, everyone was frozen in place as they absorbed the
enormity of what had just happened. The man moved towards
them hesitantly.
	"I'm sorry to intrude in such a dramatic manner. I hope I
didn't startle you too much?"
	Clark recovered first.
	"You're..."
	"...Andrus," Lois finished for him.
	"You remembered. That's good, it saves having to explain
everything again."
	Jonathan stepped forward, still staring in amazement at the
living, breathing person who had appeared from nowhere into
his son's living room.
	"Ah, we-my wife and I," he gestured at Martha, "could do
with an explanation."
	"Oh, yes, of course. I apologise. My name is Andrus, and
I'm from the future."
	"I see," said Jonathan, clearly not seeing at all.
	"I believe you may have met an acquaintance of mine, Mr
Wells?"
	"I thought he was from our past," Martha objected, finding
her voice for the first time.
	"Yes, but now also from your future. We travel through
time, you see, so that the concepts of past and future
become a little, well, complicated."
	"I can see how they would. Mr Andrus, forgive me, but what
are you doing in my son's living room?" asked Martha,
adjusting more rapidly than her husband to the bizarre
situation.
	"Plain 'Andrus' will do fine. We abandoned titles a long
time ago, when the distinctions between gender became too
blurred to be worth acknowledging."
	Clark and Lois exchanged wide-eyed glances.
	"To answer your question, though, I am here to apprehend a
particularly vicious criminal of our times-"
	"Tempus," interrupted Lois.
	"Correct. I regret that I haven't been able to arrive
sooner than this, but he sabotaged my timepiece, making it
impossible to reach your time before now. You must tell me
what he has done so far, and then we can make plans to
reverse any damage he has caused."
	"Any damage!" Clark repeated derisively. "He's only gone
and told the whole world that I'm Superman!"
	"Clark!" exclaimed Jonathan and Martha together, horrified
that he would so forget himself that he would tell a
complete stranger his secret. Clark shot a look at them,
suddenly realising that they didn't know as much as he and
Lois.
	"It's all right, Mom and Dad. He knows. They all know in
the future."
	While they absorbed this information, Lois decided to
defuse some of the tension in the room by making everyone
sit down and offering drinks. When she reached Andrus, he
declined, explaining that he preferred to remain as
'uncontaminated' as possible.
	"He's heard about your cooking, Lois," remarked Clark
softly.
	"Oh, no! I didn't mean-" began Andrus.
	"That's OK, Andrus." Lois glared at Clark. "That was just
my husband's not particularly subtle attempt at humour. I
knew what you meant."
	While Lois prepared drinks, Clark related events up to the
present day.
	"What we really need is another Superman," he summed up
glumly.
	"Yes, you do, don't you." Andrus looked away for a second,
and then back, as if coming to a decision. "I may be able to
help you there."
	"Don't tell me - everyone is a Superman in the future?"
Jonathan went for the most outlandish suggestion that sprang
to mind - after all, things were taking a pretty weird
direction already.
	"No, that would be ridiculous!" exclaimed Andrus. Jonathan
pulled an 'excuse me for being stupid' face for Martha's
eyes only. Martha elbowed him in the ribs.
	"Let me see," Andrus continued, "are you familiar with the
theory of parallel universes?"
	"Well, yes, as a matter of fact, we are. Except it's not
just theory with us." Jonathan was smug now, safe in the
knowledge that this was a topic he knew more about than
Andrus.
	"Oh, you've been there?"
	"Not personally, no..."
	"Are you saying you can travel to parallel universes as
well as travel through time?" Lois wanted to cut straight to
the point, now she knew where Andrus was headed.
	"Precisely. I can fetch the parallel Superman and bring him
back here. Although I have to tell you, it's not something I
enjoy doing - parallel universe travel always makes me
somewhat queasy. I believe it has to do with the atoms in
each universe being slightly out of alignment with each
other, although why time travel doesn't affect me the same
way is frankly quite baffling."
	"What about your chase after Tempus - shouldn't you be
concentrating on that?" asked Clark.
	"Probably. But I think that catching Tempus will be a lot
easier if I have an extra Superman who doesn't have to
protect his identity to help me. Wouldn't you agree?"
	"I'm a little biased..."
	"How soon can you get started?" asked Lois.
	"Lois, he only just got here!" Clark was embarrassed by his
wife's typically direct manner.
	"No, she's right. The sooner the better, especially since
visits to parallel universes are a little unpredictable -
sometimes the time elapsed in this universe is very short
indeed, but sometimes the visit happens in real time." He
stood up, reached a hand inside his jacket and produced a
small flat rectangle of white plastic. After fiddling with
some black buttons on one side, he looked up and smiled
reassuringly at the worried faces regarding him.
	"Don't worry, I'm sure that as soon as I find him, the
other Superman will want to come to your aid right away."
	Lois thought about commenting on the 'as soon as I find
him' part of his statement, but decided, somewhat
uncharacteristically, that it wouldn't be fair to criticise
when he was obviously doing everything within his power to
help them.
	He patted his pockets, brought out a packet of Lifesavers
and popped one in his mouth.
	"It helps to settle me during transition," he explained.
	Clark stood up and held out his hand.
	"Thank you, once again, for coming to our rescue. I hope
your journey isn't too unpleasant."
	They shook hands, and then the other three stood and
offered their best wishes for a safe journey and a speedy
return. Andrus pressed a final button on his device, and
this time, there was no wavy effect. He merely vanished.
	All four stood blinking at the spot where Andrus had been
standing.
	"Um, there *was* a man from the future in our living room,
wasn't there?" asked Lois. "Tell me I'm not going crazy."
	"Not unless I am too," replied Clark.
	"And we are as well," added Martha.
	"Oh, good. More tea, anyone?"


	The following day, Andrus still hadn't returned, so rather
than hang around doing nothing, Martha and Lois elected to
go out in search of Bobby Bigmouth, leaving Clark and
Jonathan at home once again. Clark was similarly
unenthusiastic about remaining idle, especially as he was
beginning to feel very trapped inside the house, and so
after the women had left, abruptly announced that he was
embarking on a food-shopping expedition. Jonathan declined
to accompany him, preferring to stay and experiment some
more with the hologram machine. Besides, he pointed out,
someone should stay behind in case Andrus turned up with the
other Superman.
	Clark trundled up and down the aisles of the supermarket
with his trolley, glad to be doing something undemanding and
pleasantly normal for a change. He spent a wonderfully
mindless ten minutes dithering over the cookie section -
should he go safe and buy Lois' favourites, or should he try
those new ones which looked like they had really big chunks
of gooey chocolate in them? What the heck, let's live a
little, he thought eventually, and took both. Next were the
herbal teas. Whilst he enjoyed creating his own blends, it
was also fun to try some of the wackier ready-made ones, so
he picked up a couple more of these and hoped they would be
able to squeeze the additional packs into their already
bulging cupboards.
	As he happily carried the bags out and over to the Jeep,
his path was suddenly blocked by a white van, and he was hit
with the familiar symptoms of kryptonite poisoning. The bags
slipped from his hands as all his strength flooded out of
him, and then he was being pushed roughly inside the van,
the door slammed and locked behind him.
	The pain was intense but just about manageable as he
fumbled around in the dark, trying to organise his limbs
into a more comfortable position while the vehicle bumped
and bounced him around as it moved. His hand settled on a
sharp lump of something, and he shouted out at the burning
sensation the kryptonite made on his bare flesh. Snatching
his hand away in shock, he scrabbled as quickly as he could
to the other end of the van, and huddled there in the
corner, breathing heavily and wrapping his arms around
himself against the pain.
	At last, he felt the van come to a halt and the engine
noise stopped. The door opened, and he squinted out into the
light at his captor.
	"Mr Kent! How nice of you to come."
	"There didn't seem to be much choice, Tempus," gasped
Clark.
	"Oh, there are always choices. Especially in Utopia, where
there are so many choices you always end up picking the same
thing just because it's easier that way. Now, if you would
just step out of the van, we'll move onto the next stage in
my amusing little game." He made a sweeping, inviting motion
with his hand and bowed slightly.
	"I can't."
	"Can't or won't?"
	"Take your pick."
	"Well, then let me help you." Tempus reached in, grabbed
the arm that Clark was leaning on so that he lost his
balance, and yanked him forward until he was toppling out
the back of the van. He just managed to avoid hurting
himself as he fell, but still ended up in an ungainly heap
on the ground. Tempus stepped quickly into the van to
retrieve the small lump of kryptonite Clark had encountered
previously.
	"Waste not, want not," he remarked as he put it in his
inside pocket. Reaching down, he tried to manhandle Clark
upright and propel him towards the back of a pickup truck
parked very close by, but Clark was too heavy for him.
Dropping his prisoner, he sighed and moved a few feet away.
	"You're just too darn heavy, Mr Man of Steel. You'll have
to do it yourself."
	Now that the kryptonite was further away from him, Clark
was able to sit upright and stare at Tempus defiantly.
	"I don't think so."
	"But I do," replied Tempus, producing a gun from inside his
jacket and pointing it at Clark.
	Clark shook his head. "You'll just have to shoot me,
Tempus."
	"OK," shrugged Tempus and squeezed the trigger.
	Clark screamed as the bullet tore through his hand and he
fell to the ground clutching the injured limb in agony.
Through his pain and shock, he was truly frightened now. The
man was clearly insane and would do anything on the
slightest whim, even if it meant destroying his own plans.
	"My god, I shot somebody, I actually shot somebody! You
know, it's so easy, once you try it. But then, I always knew
I had a latent talent for violence - I just needed the right
opportunity to let it blossom." Tempus allowed himself a
self-satisifed smirk before regarding his victim
dispassionately.
	"You see, Clark, it really doesn't matter if I kill you
now, or I go ahead with my original plan. The end result is
the same: Superman ceases to exist and Utopia is destroyed.
It's just so much more fun following my plan. Although, I
have to admit I brought you here because things were running
a little too slowly for me. You really have a collection of
dumb souls here in Metropolis - they take such a painfully
long time to cotton on to an idea, even when it's staring
them in the face. How we ever advanced beyond this stage
beats me."
	Clark couldn't retaliate, he was still in too much pain.
Instead, he tried to calm himself down, taking in breaths as
deep as he could manage in order to control the agony
emanating from his damaged hand.
	"So what will it be, Clark? Shall I kill you now - and I
think I probably could now, having cut my teeth, so to
speak, on your hand - or would you rather take a chance on
life?"
	Clark reflected that crazy though he was, Tempus had made a
good point. While he co-operated with Tempus, he was alive
and there was the hope of escape or rescue, whereas if he
resisted, it looked as if he was in grave danger of swiftly
losing his life. Standing up and walking over to the truck
was not an option in his current state, so, ignoring the
indignity and humiliation of the situation, he crawled. It
wasn't easy, with one useless, pain-filled hand, and the
rest of his body weak and shaky from the continued exposure
to kryptonite, but he did it. He did it for Lois, for his
parents, for Jimmy and Perry.
	When he reached the back of the truck, he managed to pull
himself up so that he was leaning forward against the
tailgate, but could do no more until Tempus jumped into the
truck and pulled him up first by his arm and then his belt.
He almost blacked out as he lay face down, gasping for
breath and feeling as though his hand would explode with
pain, but then Tempus prodded him in the ribs with a toe to
remind him that the ordeal wasn't over yet.
	"Oh, come on, Clark, you can't be finished yet, you're
Superman! And I've prepared this nice, comfortable chair for
you to sit in. Here, let me help you."
	Tempus put a hand under Clark's uninjured arm and pulled
him up towards the wooden upright chair which was bolted to
the bottom of the truck. Somehow, Clark ended up sitting in
the chair, and then Tempus proceeded to tie him to it,
around his chest so that he couldn't fall forward, around
his ankles, and finally his arms were yanked behind his back
and tied together. The pain which this manoeuvre induced was
finally too much for Clark, and he fainted.

	"He should be back by now."
	Lois stalked restlessly around their living room, while
Jonathan and Martha sat on the sofa anxiously holding hands
and following her movements with their eyes.
	Jonathan tried a new explanation. "Perhaps he got caught up
in a difficult rescue." He turned on the TV and started
flicking through the channels to find some news.
	Lois looked out the front window for the umpteenth time.
	"Something's wrong."
	"We don't know that for sure," said Martha.
	Lois crossed back to where she could see the TV.
	"The reporters have disappeared from outside. Something's
happening. Here, let me do it."
	She more or less snatched the TV remote from Jonathan and
swiftly found the news. All three were immediately
transfixed by the scene portrayed on the screen. Martha
clutched at Jonathan, while Lois felt tears prick her eyes.
	"Is-is that near the Planet?" quavered Martha.
	Lois' voice was unnaturally calm. "Yes, it's just a couple
of blocks away." She dashed the heel of her hand over her
eyes. "I think if we head for the Planet, we'll get there at
the same time as the truck. It's moving quite slowly."
	She picked up her purse and hurried to the door.
	"Lois, wait!"
	Martha's cry stopped her, and she waited while the other
two grabbed coats, turned off the TV and made sure they had
house and car keys. The three ran down to the Jeep, piled
inside and then Lois drove at breakneck speed towards the
Daily Planet. As they drew closer, it was clear that the
spectacle moving through the streets of Metropolis was
pulling quite a crowd, so that eventually they had to park
the Jeep and push as fast as they could through the throng.
Lois was correct, and as they reached the Planet, the truck
was just coming around the corner.
	There were signs plastered all around the outside of the
truck saying: "Non-super attempts to rescue Mr Kent will
detonate the bomb."
	In the middle of the truck, Clark was tied to a chair with
a small black box attached to the back of it. The black box
had a digital clock counting down minutes and seconds, and
Tempus was shouting over a loudspeaker, "Clark Kent is in
danger, but his close friend Superman isn't here to rescue
him. Why? Because Clark Kent *is* Superman. Try shouting
Help Superman, and he won't come, because he's already
here!"
	A few onlookers were half-heartedly doing as Tempus
suggested, but more were simply staring at the outrageous
sight in front of them. Lois' temper flared as she watched
Clark try valiantly to sit upright in the chair and hide the
distress he was so obviously in. She elbowed her way to the
front of the crowd and stood a little way in front of the
truck. The crowd gasped at the obvious danger she had put
herself in, but the vehicle stopped before it hit her, and
she looked up into the cab.
	"Tempus! Let him go. What has he ever done to hurt you?"
	"Well, what do we have here? Ah yes, Mrs Superman, Lois
Lane, meddlesome reporter and right-hand girl to our
superhero. What has he done to hurt me? Let me see
now...ruined my life? Spoiled my fun? Made my life hell?!"
	"All he's done is expose you for what you are - an evil,
amoral criminal with no respect for your fellow human
being."
	"Amoral. Now that's an interesting choice of word for
someone living a lie. Why do you keep denying that Clark
Kent is Superman, when he so obviously is? These people
think they've seen two men, when all they saw was a double
and a simple hologram. Listen, Metropolis: try asking to
shake hands with both of them next time they try that trick
on you and see how far you get."
	"All right...if Clark is Superman, why hasn't he escaped?"
	"Why, you moron, because I have a large piece of kryptonite
nearby."
	"Don't you think that might be why Superman isn't here -
because he can sense the kryptonite and can't come close
enough?"
	"Nice try, Lois, but if Clark isn't Superman, why would I
need kryptonite to stop him from escaping?"
	Lois kicked herself mentally. She had argued herself into a
corner and worse still, done it in full view of the public.
She tried a different tack.
	"Because you're crazy. Anyone who was sane wouldn't be
pulling this stunt at all. You belong in a hospital for the
criminally insane, which is where you'll be when Superman
catches up with you."
	"Oh, a hollow threat, I think, dear Lois. Now, if you'll
step away, I'll be on my way."
	He revved the engine, and began to move forward so that
Lois was forced to move to the side. She had to watch as the
truck drove off, then making her face as emotionless as she
could, she tore through the crowds into the relative peace
of the Daily Planet building. Jonathan and Martha hurried
inside after her.
	"I have to..." She blundered past them into the ladies
restrooms, desperate to find a private space to herself. She
walked into the first cubicle she came to, locked the door,
sat down and put her face in her hands. Finally, she let
herself succumb to silent sobs of hurt, anger, frustration
and fear. The confrontation with Tempus had been terrible,
and she hadn't done the slightest bit of good for Clark,
she'd probably made things worse. She heard someone enter
the restrooms...probably Martha, come to be nice to her. She
didn't need nice, if she got nice she would dissolve into
floods of tears, and that wouldn't help Clark any. Come on,
Lois, pull yourself together, she told herself, where's the
famous spunk? Somewhere back where she and Clark were
fighting this thing together, she answered herself.
Somewhere in a puddle on the sidewalk. She sat quietly for a
minute, then stood up...OK, you can do this, Lois.
	Sure enough, Martha was waiting outside for her. One look
told Martha that Lois couldn't handle sympathy, so she tried
a neutral, "OK?" ...which elicited a nod and a shaky smile,
and linki