Recognition (Justice)
By Ccmalo@aol.com
Rated PG13
Submitted July 1998



Note: This is my second fanfic and a sequel to "Recognition:Truth" which
was set following the second season episode, "Top Copy". The usual
disclaimers about the characters apply. And I would welcome feedback. I
would  also like to thank Jeanne P. for her extensive  time and work in
editing this, not an easy task. Ccmalo@aol.com* * *

RECOGNITION: JUSTICE ( by Cc Malo )

It had been the best week in Clark Kent's life. Lois Lane was in love with
*him*, not some fantasy guy in a cape or some wealthy egomaniacal Lucifer
wannabe. Clark grinned with joy at this thought as he dashed energetically
through the grey morning of a drizzly Metropolis spring, inadvertently
inhaling the noxious exhaust of a Metro Transit Commission bus as it aimed
for the dark puddle nearest him. Executing a quick swerve to the right that
would have made a quarterback proud, he missed the greasy wave tossed up by
the bus's wheels and touched down, splash free, on the curb. Clark Kent
one; MTC zero. Life was good!

And it was about to get better, he thought, as he entered the lobby of the
Daily Planet. Outside, the rain's intensity increased and thunder cracked
above the discordant cacophony of Saturday morning traffic. Clark didn't
hear it. He was thinking about his plan, the plan that was going into
effect tonight, starting at seven o'clock. He and Lois had worked steadily
since returning from Legatteville on Tuesday, leaving them little time to
be alone. In fact, the longest time they had spent together had been during
the train trip back; and, although he had enjoyed it, there had been little
privacy to talk to her about what was really on his mind. So they had
discussed the events in Legatteville, played scrabble (Lois cheated
blatantly and he had happily let her get away with it), read those
newspaper items aloud that they thought the other had overlooked, and
chatted with a restless, precocious five year old. Occasionally, they had
forgotten everything and just held hands, smiling blissfully at each other.


Now that she was sure of feelings for him (he had always been sure how he
felt about her), it was time to be honest with her about things, about the
*thing*. Tonight he was going to do that. He'd thought about it carefully,
about what he would do and say. Briefly, he'd considered consulting his mom
for advice and then thought with disgust that a man his age ought to be
able to handle his own affairs. Not that he'd had any affairs, not that he
was planning on having one, well not right away. First, he had to tell her.
She had the right to know his secret before he asked her to marry him. He
hadn't quite worked out the sequence of events here. Part of him wanted to
ask her to marry him before telling her about his alter ego, needing to
know that it was him she wanted to marry, not the powers. The other part of
him knew that asking her for a commitment before she knew everything was
dishonest. Living with him, the implications of what he was, and what he
did not yet know about himself was a staggering thing to ask. To ask her to
join him in his isolation, and in his quest for truth and justice was not
much of an offer he thought. But he did not want to live without her. She
was all that he had ever wanted and he had known that from the first day
that they had met at the Daily Planet.

So he'd thought about the details of tonight since their return early on 
Tuesday evening. When they'd got off the train, he'd asked her to dinner but 
instead of the small intimately dark Italian bistro he'd suggested, she opted
for a brightly lit, family oriented pizza place much favored by hockey
tournament winners. It was close to her apartment, she'd said, and she
wanted to get to bed early. He'd mentally added the word "alone" after
she'd finished speaking. So, like the Kansas gentleman that he was, he
escorted his lady home, and, not too passionately, kissed her goodnight.
She'd responded with a "You can do better than that, Kent!" given him a
quick, decisive, toe curling kiss, and disappeared inside her apartment ---
alone.

That's when he had started planning for tonight; last Tuesday evening as he
had walked home through the darkness. It would be perfect. Romantic. He
would have roses for her, her favorite music on his CD player, her favorite
pasta dinner and red wine, and, just to be safe, lots of Belgian chocolate.
Then he would tell her. He wasn't quite sure how this part would go. He'd
gone over it in his mind, but it had always sounded like a cross between
bad science fiction and even worse soap opera. Somehow the scene had always
ended with her blowing up at him, angry at his deceit. Maybe he should
propose first, then she would accept (she had to accept; he didn't know
what he would do if she didn't), and after that he would tell her, maybe
after they made love and were in bed. The naked truth, so to speak. Yeah,
that was the way he should do it.

So Clark was in high spirits that rainy Saturday morning as he headed
toward the concession stand in the centre of the slick marble lobby of the
new Planet building. He chatted with Ed, who ran the stand, about last
night's hockey game as he selected a single crimson rose from a shiny,
galvanized bucket near the cash register, and then headed over to the
elevator which would take him up to the newsroom floor. Just as the doors
were about to slide shut, a sodden Jimmy Olson sprinted towards the doors.
Clark pressed the stop button as his friend slid between the doors.

Clark grinned at his friend. "Morning, Jimmy. Beautiful day."

"Huh?" Jimmy looked with sorrow at his soggy leather jacket and then at
Clark clutching a rose in his large hand. Swallowing his laughter, he
raised his eyebrows. "One rose isn't going to do it, C.K. Women go for the
big gesture. You know, show'em you're prepared to spend serious bucks just
for them. It's guaranteed to work."

"Ah. . . Well, maybe, I'll work up to that. Last time I gave her roses, she
trashed them. This," he held up the rose for inspection, "is just a hint of
things to come."

"Subtle." Jimmy did not sound convinced. "Well, maybe it'll work with Lois
but you gotta remember she's used to strictly first class after Luthor. And
you still got Superman to contend with. I've seen the way he looks at her."

"What?" Clark was startled. He'd always tried to act remote in the suit,
emotionless, his arms crossed as a barrier between him and closer contact
with the people around him. He particularly didn't want anyone thinking
that there was any kind of personal relationship between Superman and Lois
Lane, not after the rumors that Lois was "Superman's girl." He didn't want
her to be a target.

"Yeah, the only time I've ever seen him act human is when he's around kids
or when Lois is around. Not that you couldn't give him a run for his
money," he added loyally.

"I appreciate that, Jimmy." But Clark made a mental note to himself that
the next time Superman encountered Lois Lane he would not look at her, not
speak to her, go nowhere near her.

"Look, maybe you should start working out, do weights. The trainer at my
gym is pretty good. I know you're in good shape, but face it, Superman has
more bulk than you and that's what women go for."

The elevator doors opened, and armed with Jimmy's astonishing advice, Clark
headed toward Lois's empty desk where he placed the rose in front of her
computer and wrote a quick note, "Tonight, Clark."

"Anyway, good luck," Jimmy called out as he headed to the stack of morning
newspapers and the coffee that was perpetually available in the newsroom.

Over the next half hour, the newsroom gradually filled with more members of
the day staff. This time was warm up: casual, fragmented talk about Friday
night and anticipated Saturday experiences, spiced with a bit of gossip.
Then the next stage: ideas about today's leads, interviews, stories, and
layouts. The headline writer was hoping to get in his best puns for the
Sunday edition and was dropping them casually now so that the writers would
come up with articles that would justify his word play.

The signal to disperse and enter warp drive came when the heavy elevator
doors slowly slid apart and Perry White, Editor-in-Chief of the Daily
Planet emerged to stand on the bridge leading down to the newsroom. His
eyes swept the room, and then he bellowed, "Conference room in five,
people." As he walked past Clark's desk, he added, "And bring your partner,
if she decides to put in an appearance this morning."

Clark nodded. "She'll be here, Chief."

Perry looked pointedly at the rose on Lois's desk and said innocently,
"Keeping her up too late, son?"

"Not last night." I wish, Clark thought, as Perry continued across the
floor to his office.

* * * *
Lois Lane was running late. The morning was not off to a smooth start, she
thought. She had awakened late, torn from disturbing dreams and jarred into
consciousness by a sharp sonic crack of thunder. After a brief disoriented
moment, she snapped awake and hit the floor running. A quick shower, one
minute too little with her hair blower, and then a blind throwing on of the
first clothes she pulled from her closet. If not co-ordinated, she was at
least clean and all in just over ten minutes. A record! Quickly grabbing a
muffin from her mostly empty fridge, she grabbed her all purpose leather
bag and then rushed out the door.

Things got worse when she got to the street and noticed the flat tire on
her new silver Cherokee. As she was unlocking its door, her eyes glanced
down and there it was, an underinflated left front tire. Kicking it did not
fix it. Scowling, she jogged down the street to the busy corner, stood in
the cold, driving rain for five minutes, and finally succeeded in hailing a
taxi. Sighing, she settled back into the cab's grey utilitarian interior.


Sitting back against the stiff upholstery, she stared out the cab's rain
streaked window. This past week had been the most confusing week of her
life. Her time away from Metropolis had been both wonderful and
bewildering. What she had been so sure of had vanished, metamorphosing into
something else. She had finally summoned the courage to confront and accept
her feelings for her partner and to let Superman recede into a hazy mist of
memory when all of a sudden he had appeared again. But he had not
reappeared as the guarded superhero who was always so careful with her,
avoiding closeness. He had reappeared as the guy who brought her coffee in
the morning, competed with her for top stories, and watched trash videos
with her when she was running scared. And who, she now realized, had wanted
to be very close to her from the day they had met. Superman was vulnerable
and Clark was the Man of Steel, a farmer's son from outer space. Where did
she fit in all of this? Could she fit?

She had been avoiding being alone with him since they had left
Legatteville. She needed time to get to know him for who he really was and
she knew if she was alone with him she could be easily distracted. She
smiled at that thought, following it for a moment until it stopped in front
of Clark's bed. She frowned at the thought and pushed it back into his
living room. She was taking a chance tonight, agreeing to have dinner at
his place, but she couldn't continue this approach - avoidance behavior
without his beginning to wonder what was going on. More than anything she
needed him to tell her about Superman. Needed to know that he trusted her.
Then they could move on in their relationship.

Still, she was looking forward to tonight. After all, she was in love with
him, and if he was not exactly what she had thought him to be, she would
enjoy discovering who he really was. Treat it like a first date, which it
very nearly was. A "getting to know more about you"  date. That was what
she wanted.

Five minutes later, she walked into the newsroom with as much dignity as
she could muster after having glimpsed herself in the mirror wall that
flanked the elevator doors in the main lobby. She wondered what architect
from hell had dreamed up that bright idea as she observed that her dark
hair had turned curly in the rain, she had not put on any make-up, and her
clothes were eclectically mismatched. She didn't even know she owned
anything plaid. Looking around her, she noticed that the newsroom was
partly empty, a sign that the Saturday morning conference was underway.
Great --she was late for that too.

"Nice of you to join us, darlin'. Hope we're not puttin' you out." After
pausing for a second while Lois quickly slid into the empty chair next to
Jimmy, Perry continued with his meeting.

Potential front page stories were debated, discarded, decided on. The
Sunday edition was the most serious edition of the week but also its most
trivial. It had both analyses of major issues, solid reviews of the arts,
and penetrating insights into the most frivolous aspects of interior
decoration and fashion. Ordinarily, Lois thrived on these bull pit
meetings, enjoying the opportunity that Perry seemed to throw out to his
staff to help shape the paper. However, today she felt off balance, not at
her best. Probably the humiliation of wearing plaid slacks and a nearly
florescent lime green sweatshirt, she thought. This had to be Lucy's stuff,
and she wondered what was missing from her wardrobe. Probably the new black
sheath. She raised her eyes and met Clark's across the wide expanse of the
heavy oak table. He smiled at her, a touch of affectionate laughter
lighting the darkness of his eyes. Her eyes flashed in response and then
she flung herself into the fray, claiming for herself an in-depth
background piece on the presidential aspirations of Senator Tony Gates.

She had been researching this story on her own time since she had got back
from Legatteville. Forty years ago, Gates had got away with killing a young
Native girl who was pregnant with his child. And she suspected he had also
got away with the death last week of the man to whom that girl had been
briefly engaged. Lois was not going to let that go. Consequently, she had
spent the last three nights digging for facts, looking for anything that
might prove a different past than the one which the Senator presented for
public consumption. She wanted to do a three part story, profiling Gates'
record, his support, his background. Perry balked at the three parter. Too
much space on one candidate when there were several at this early stage of
the game. But she had got the Sunday edition which pleased her. She could
build from that.

Perry adjourned the meeting and his staff scattered, focused and energetic,
to various corners of the Planet to start work on the Sunday edition. The
new cartoonist, Nick Augustino, stopped at the door to let her go ahead.
"Looking cool, Lois." Looking at him, she realized he genuinely meant this
as a compliment and she smiled. God, he had weird taste. She had thought
that from the moment Perry had hired him two months ago. But he was a
brilliant cartoonist.

She slowed down to wait for Clark and they walked together to their desks.
"Hi," her voice was a light whisper, meant only for him.

"Hi," he touched the unruly curls of her dark hair briefly and smiled. "I
like this, kinda cute." God, Clark had weird taste too, she thought,
although maybe it was good that he was easily impressed with how she
looked. She spotted the rose by her computer and leaned over to inhale its
sweet spiciness. Turning, she looked at him and read his message.

"Tonight."

For a moment, they gazed at each other, smiling, their eyes sparkling,
saying nothing. Then Perry broke the spell.

"I need a favor from you two. Alice just called. She has a major bout of
the flu. We were hoping that she could shake this in time to go to that
charity gala tonight, but her temperature's worse. I want the Planet to be
represented. Give you two a chance to mingle with Metropolis' richest and
most powerful." He pulled the invitation from his suit pocket and handed it
to Clark. "You'll need a tux, son. Better head across and get it now." Then
he turned and headed back to his office.

Lois and Clark looked at each other in dismay. Then Clark hurried after
Perry. "Look Chief, it's not that we don't appreciate the opportunity, but.
. . maybe Ralph or Steve could go or. . ."

Perry interrupted. "No, I want the Planet's best there. Look at it this
way, Clark, this gives you a chance to shift into higher gear with Lois.
Women find it hard to resist a man in a tux. I remember last year, after we
left the Gala, Alice couldn't. . ." He stopped, patted Clark on the
shoulder, and winked. "Well, you'll see what I mean, son." He stalked back
to his office, leaving a disgruntled Clark with an invitation in his hand.

Lois watched all this from her desk, although she couldn't hear everything
the two men said. Clark's back was to her, as he stood for a moment
watching the bulky form of his boss walk away. When he turned around, she
was surprised and pleased by how downcast he looked. She smiled ruefully
when he came and sat on the corner of her desk. "Maybe *not* tonight, huh?"

"I guess not. Looks like it's going to be me, you, and an intimate
gathering of one thousand others." He stood up. "Guess I'd better get that
tux."

They saw little of each other for the rest of the day as they both worked
on separate stories for the Sunday edition. For Clark, that task got
squeezed in between picking up the tux, three small jobs for Superman, and
an unavoidable philosophical discussion with Perry on how Elvis' life might
have been saved if he'd taken up trout fishing after he got out of the
army. Clark had planned to meet Lois for lunch at noon in the Planet
cafeteria, but was detained by the first small emergency of the day. A
small van had slid on the slick pavement into the cold, dark water of Hobbs
Bay. Superman fished it out.

When he'd got back to the Cafe Daily Planet, he'd arrived just in time to
join Lois as she finished her coffee. She was sitting with Nick Augustino
and Chantal Tessier, the new style and gossip writer who had replaced Cat
Grant. They greeted him, and he glanced at Lois, looking for signs of
annoyance with his lateness but saw none. All she said was hi, smiled
slightly, and told him his tie was crooked. As he was straightening it,
they were joined by Perry White and Frank Bishop, a thin, ominous looking
accountant who was the Planet's General Manager of Finance. Clark was
disappointed when Lois took her leave a few minutes later, followed by
Nick. That left him caught in a longer lunch than he really had time for,
chatting about Elvis, trout, and the layman's inaccurate use of statistics.
Chantal, a ruthlessly elegant former fashion model, provided charming
support and encouragement for the two more influential men at the table.
This prolonged the lunch.

When he was finally able to get away, Clark took to the rain slicked
pavement of Metropolis again, hoping to get to the derelict streets of
Suicide Slum where he wanted to interview the manager of a hostel for
homeless street kids. He did get there, but as Superman, just in time to
break up a serious street fight outside Marco's Bar. And so the afternoon
continued, winding down at six o'clock as he finished his article with
which he was not completely satisfied. He grimaced at it and sighed. This
one would not win a Kerth, but he had at least met his deadline. Maybe
things would go more smoothly tonight.

It looked like they would. He arrived, on time, at the door of Lois's
apartment with the bouquet of red roses that he had planned to give her in
much different circumstances. He smiled as he listened to her unlock,
unbolt, and unchain her "security system" and then froze as she opened her
door. He thought she had never looked so beautiful. She was wearing the
same black gown she had worn when she had been his "date" at the Kerths
last fall. Only tonight there was something different, a radiance that took
his breath away. Her dress reminded him of that night when he had been so
happy that she was his date, even if the date had not been quite real, a
product of her friendship and respect for him rather than love. But they'd
had fun that night; she'd had little time for anyone else, and once he'd
looked across to find her gazing at him with a look of admiration that he
had almost thought was love. They'd had a great time, so great that he had
not wanted the night to end and  he had been unable to resist dropping in
to see her later, as Superman, rationalizing that he needed to thank her
for her help. Then, as he'd turned to leave her, she'd pulled a single
white rose from the bouquet he had brought her earlier before the awards
dinner. As she had given him the rose he was reminded that it was Superman,
not Clark, that she loved , and at that moment he'd been lost; the joy of
the evening overwhelmed by the poignancy of knowing that she was not his
after all, that he was alone. Speechless, he'd flown from her window.

Things were different now, and he felt elated. He followed her into her
small, dark kitchen and watched in comfortable silence as she cut the ends
of the thorny stems of the roses and then arranged each flower carefully in
a tall glass vase. After she finished, she smiled happily at him. "They're
beautiful!" Reaching up, she kissed his cheek softly. "Thank you, Clark."

"You're welcome." Slowly sliding his hands down her bare arms, he took her
hands in his and kissed her lightly. "But I thought I'd be giving them to
you at my place, as the beginning of a different type of evening."

"Had big plans, did you, Mr. Kent?" she teased him.

"Yes, and you, Ms. Lane, would have been impressed. Very impressed."

"Ah, that must mean that you were planning on showing me your old Borneo
Gazette clippings."

"Yeah," he said as he helped her on with her long black coat, "and that was
going to be only the beginning."

They walked out of her apartment and into the hall where Clark leaned back
against the pale green wall, his hands in his pockets, while Lois
methodically re-engaged her security system.

"Saw a new type of lock at Home Mart yesterday," Clark said. "Variation on
a combination lock and made from a titanium alloy developed in the space
program. You could install it just above the door handle. There's still
room."

Her eyes narrowed. "Ha ha."

"I could pick it up for you tomorrow."

"Clark."

*****
Two hours later, they were sitting at Mr. Stern's table in the large
ballroom of the Lexor Hotel, chatting casually, and finishing their dessert
after what had been an unexpectedly good dinner. Chantal Tessier, for whom
this was a working event, was the only other Planet employee at their
table. Her date was an Australian, a wealthy businessman who was interested
in expanding his media investments in North America. Although Chantal had
only worked at the Planet for six months, Lois was impressed by what she
had seen. The woman seemed to have more contacts than any one else on the
paper, could slice through the chaos of the newsroom like an Arctic
icebreaker, and held the current record for most generous expense account
allowance. The latter was, of course, not common knowledge. Jimmy had found
this out from Mimi in accounting and, in strictest confidence, had told
Lois. On reflection, Lois thought, maybe it was common knowledge.
Amazingly, Chantal could also write.

At that moment, Chantal rose gracefully and murmured. "Time to work the
room for a bit before the after dinner speech." She turned and smiled at
her companion, Murdoch Conrad, and said lightly, "Have to earn my keep." He
was clearly dazzled, Lois thought, as she noticed the admiration in his
eyes as he watched the tall, slim body of the very beautiful reporter as
she walked towards a table in the middle of the room. Lois smiled in
appreciation as Chantal unobtrusively zeroed in on the Mayor of Metropolis.

Conrad turned to his table companions and said to Stern, "The Planet was
very fortunate to get Chantal. With her looks, she could do quite well in
television. Could make more money there too."

"Money's not everything, Mr. Conrad." Lois had to say it.

Conrad looked at her shrewdly for a moment and Lois felt like he was taking
inventory. "Isn't it? What's your motivation, Ms. Lane? The Kerths?
Or is it money too? Lex Luthor was one of the richest men in the world. Or
was he the love of your life?" He leaned back in his chair as he finished
speaking, the look on his face and his slight tone of sarcasm suggesting
that he doubted the latter.

There was a momentary silence around the table, quiet shock at Conrad's
lack of manners. Stern's cheeks puffed slightly, his wife looked
compassionately at Lois, Lois paled, and Clark looked thunderous. In fact,
Clark was shocked at the anger he felt at that moment. As he was about to
speak, Stern cut him off. Ignoring Conrad's comment altogether, Stern said,
"Clark, I'd like you and Lois to meet Rev. Douglas. He's sitting at the
table with Mrs. Gates." Rising, he turned to his wife, and by way of
apology, said, "We'll be back in a few minutes, honey." As the three were
walking away, they could hear the diplomatic voice of Mrs. Stern asking
Conrad about the weather in Australia at this time of year.

"I think you'll like Rev. Douglas. He's one of the most selfless
individuals I've ever known," Stern said to the two reporters as they
approached the head table where Rev. Edward Douglas was talking with a
quietly attractive woman. Stern greeted the reverend and then introduced
Lois and Clark to him as well as to the woman beside him: Victoria Gates,
wife of the senior senator for New Troy.

Both Lois and Clark recognized her but had never met her. Clark spoke
first. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Gates." Then he looked at Rev.
Douglas. "And you too, sir. You've made quite a difference in the lives of
many people in this town."

"Not me, Mr. Kent. I don't have the resources to be more than a middleman
between the poor and the rich. Think of me as the bagman of the unlucky."
He shifted his gaze to Mrs. Gates. "Victoria's the one who makes things
happen. I ask and she somehow finds the money. There are times when I
suspect she must know where all the bodies are buried."

Lois's eyes widened at that comment as she remembered the events that they
had uncovered (or partially uncovered) in Legatteville. Not all the bodies,
she thought. Recovering, she shook Mrs. Gates' outstretched hand and
commented, "Metropolis has been very fortunate to have your help, Mrs.
Gates, and the reverend's."

At that moment, a well tailored young man interrupted them to remind them
that it was time to start the next part of the evening's program. They
turned to head back to their table just as Senator Gates strode with brisk
confidence to his wife's side and kissed her cheek. "Told you I'd make it
in time for your speech, honey." Then he shook Stern's hand. "Good to see
you again, Roger." Nodding at Lois and Clark, he added, "Lois. Clark. Back
on your home turf, I see. Tonight, you're in luck. You're going to hear the
real talent in the family." Then he sat down at the head table, beside his
wife.

Lois watched him and was appalled. The dutiful and appreciative husband,
the respected Senator, the killer. Was it possible to get away with murder?
Maybe, if you had enough money. She met Clark's eyes and knew he was
thinking much the same thing. She froze for a moment and then was aware of
Clark's hand on the small of her back as all three of them quickly headed
back to their table, taking their seats just before the mayor introduced
Victoria Gates.  Lois had never been very aware of Victoria Gates before,
her mind having relegated her to "the wife of the great man" role. Tonight,
Lois listened carefully, curious about the character of the woman who had
married a man who had been so careless with human life. Uncomfortably, she
remembered that she had been blind to the actions of a man whose crimes had
been even greater and that she had angrily blocked out the warnings of her
best friend. Why had she done that?

As she listened to Victoria speak, Lois became more and more aware of the
woman's sensitivity, her perceptive intelligence, and her quiet sense of
humor. So did the whole room, judging by the applause following her speech.

Clark leaned toward her and said quietly, "Impressive. I know how much Rev.
Douglas has badgered the city into helping the homeless, but I'm inclined
to believe him when he describes Victoria as the driving force."

Lois nodded. "Behind every great man, Clark.  .  ." She didn't get the
chance to finish the cliche when she noticed a distracted look cross
Clark's face, as though he were listening to something somewhere else.
She'd seen that look before, just before Clark disappeared on some urgently
trivial mission. Only this time she understood what was happening.
Fascinated, she watched him as he touched his tie, a gesture she had always
thought of as a nervous habit.

"Ah. . . I have to go, Lois. I think. . . I just remembered. . . I, ah. . .
left my door unlocked. I'll be back." As he was leaving the room, Lois
decided she was going to keep a record of his excuses and rank them
according to originality.

Clark walked out of the room as quickly as he could, trying to figure out
just how upset Lois was over his disappearance this time. Last time, she
had ignored him for nearly a whole day. He blocked that from his mind as he
spun into the suit and shot up into the night sky, a red flame flying west
in the moonlight towards suburban Metropolis where he could see the
unnatural orange glow of a fire lighting the inky darkness of the night. It
was Metro Paint Corp. A quick X-ray scan of the burning wing of the
building revealed a collapsed beam blocking three people >from getting out
of the danger zone. Immediately, he was there, effortlessly moving the beam
while they ran from the flames.

One of them yelled loudly, "Roy is still back there. He couldn't get out."

Clark's body became a blur as he raced into the back room where he saw a
man lying still beneath a toppled filing cabinet, blood pooling on his left
side. Hearing a faint heartbeat, Clark let some of his tension go and
quickly picked up the metal cabinet to free the unconscious man from his
trap. Using his breath, Clark extinguished the flames in the immediate area
around them, and then, carefully supporting the man's back, he lifted him
and flew him to the ambulances at the front of the building. He watched for
a moment as the paramedics methodically worked on the man's wound, stopping
the flow of blood, but he had still not regained consciousness. Clark felt
his tension return as he waited. "Will he recover?" he asked.

"He's got a good chance. You've made a difference, Superman," the young
paramedic said as he climbed in the back of the ambulance after the gurney
and then closed the doors. The ambulance raced off, high pitched sirens
wailing a warning in the night.

It took another hour before the fire department, with Superman's help, had
extinguished the fire and made sure that no one was in the building and
that all workers were accounted for. Clark flew over the smouldering
wreckage towards the area where he figured the blaze must have started,
looking for anything unusual that might indicate the cause of the fire.
Then he noticed what looked like schrapnel scattered around the site, the
jagged pieces radiating from what must have been the docking bay. He was
curious about what they had been unloading at that time of night.

Clark touched nothing and went in search of the Fire Chief who had arrived
as soon as it became evident that this fire was not a routine one. He
spotted the chief standing close to the still smoking edge of the building,
talking with one of his men. There was now the problem of noxious paint
fumes, of clean up, and of the extent of the risk to the immediate
neighborhood. They stopped speaking as Superman approached.

"Looks like it was started by an explosion in the trucking bay. I'd like to
know the results of your investigations into the cause of the fire." The
tone of Clark's voice left no doubt but that he expected that he would be
given this information.

"You've got it. It'll probably take a day to gather all the evidence and
then another to analyze it. Drop by late Monday afternoon. We should have
it by then," Chief Calhoun said calmly.

"Thanks, Chief. I'll do that. If I can't make it, I'll ask Clark Kent to
pick it up for me."

With that comment, Clark lept into the air and headed to Metropolis General
Hospital to check on the condition of the man he had just rescued. Getting
past hospital admission desks, especially close to midnight, is not a easy
for the ordinary citizen. It is, however, a sure thing for any man in
spandex who can fly. The night nurse informed him that the man, whose name
was Roy McAndrew, was in surgery, and that there was not much news at this
point. Clark spoke to the man's distraught wife for a few minutes, trying
to comfort her, give her hope, knowing that he could not do that. Promising
to return tomorrow morning, he left, striding down the corridor beside the
energetic night nurse. He wondered if praying worked.

A few minutes later, he was back at the gala, glasses in place, tuxedo
immaculate, and bow tie only slightly askew. For a moment he stood back, on
the fringe of the crowd, feeling remote from the elegantly gowned and
sleekly suited elite of Metropolis, whose lives at this moment were so
different from the rescue workers he had just left. Couples danced in the
centre of the ballroom while small clusters of people gathered at tables
chatting, making contacts, and hustling deals. He searched for Lois and
easily found her, picking out her heartbeat from all those in the room. He
had been doing this for a long time now, and it always pleased him, like
coming home.

He smiled as he noticed where she was. His very enterprising partner was
with Senator and Mrs. Gates and Clark had no doubt about her motive. He
walked toward their table, coming up behind Lois, and lightly put his hand
on her shoulder without speaking.

Gates stopped what he was saying to the two women. "Ah, Mr. Kent. Glad to
see you could make it back. Lois said that an emergency had come up at your
apartment building. I hope it didn't turn out to be too serious."

Clark hoped his face did not show his surprise at Lois's embellishment of
his excuse. Maybe she wasn't going to be mad at him after all. He was
unusually tired and he just wanted to be alone with her for at least a few
minutes before the evening ended.

"It wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed," Clark said.

Lois smiled at him, touching his arm lightly. "You owe me a dance,
partner." Taking his hand, she led him onto the dance floor, and they began
to sway slowly to the rhythm of an old Gershwin standard.

Clark bent his head to search her face for some clue as to what was on her
mind. "Sorry I took so long."

" 'S okay. You're here now," she murmured as she slid her arm around his
neck. It *was* okay, she thought, although she was curious to know what he
had been doing. Whatever it was had left him dispirited and she just wanted
to comfort him. As the sweet mellowness of the music continued, she felt
the tension ease from his shoulders. She moved her body away from him, just
enough to look into his dark eyes and was rewarded by the slow smile she
saw beginning there.

"And I always will be, Lois." His words were a promise and he bent his head
to kiss the side of her neck, wrapping his arms around her as he did so. He
stopped dancing.

Lois giggled. "Clark, we're supposed to keep moving here. You know, you
lead and I follow."

She felt his grin against her neck. "*Never* thought I'd hear you say that,
Ms. Lane. Would you say it again?"

"No."

"Ah, well. I guess once in a lifetime will have to do." He tightened his
arm around her waist and twirled her around dramatically as the music
continued. She gasped a little in delight and really did follow his lead as
the beat of the music increased.

When the set finished he said, "Look, why don't we leave. This is going to
wind down soon, and I think we've done our duty. At least you have," he
amended as she fixed him with a withering glance. Noticing Murdoch Conrad
and Chantal Tessier approaching them on the dance floor, he added a
persuasive argument. "Unless you'd rather stay and spend some time with
Chantal and the off shore media mogul."

"Leaving sounds good. It has been a long day." They made their excuses to
Chantal and her companion and then headed across to the checkroom to get
Lois's coat. "I did not want to spend any more time with that man than
necessary, Clark. I hope he's not here because he's planning on adding the
Daily Planet to his collection."

"I don't think so. The rumor is that he's interested in the National Whisper."

"Well, that's more his style. But, if that's the case, I wonder why he's
with Chantal."

"Maybe it's just a date. She is a beautiful woman, Lois." Lois's raised
eyebrow told him that was the wrong thing to say to the woman you're hoping
to convince to spend the rest of her life with you. "Nearly in your
league," he added quickly.

Lois laughed and slipped her arm through his. "Nice save."

"It's the truth." Clark's face took on the pious look of the last honest
man as he spoke.

"Even better."

They went out through the revolving door into the cool night.

*****
It was nearly midnight by the time they got back to Lois's apartment. After
she had unlocked her door, Lois turned and leaned back against it for a
moment. Casually, she fingered the black silk of his tuxedo lapel. "Do you
want to come in for a bit, Clark. I'll make some coffee."

"I'd like that."

He followed her through the door into the quiet darkness of her apartment
and helped her off with her coat. With a sigh of relief, Lois kicked off
her stiletto heels and headed toward the kitchen to begin the simple ritual
of setting up the coffee machine. As she did, she softly hummed a few bars
of the last song to which they had danced while Clark sat on a bar stool
beside the island counter and watched her, lulled by her voice.

"You're quiet, Clark. Is everything okay?"

"I guess. I'm just a bit tired."

Lois looked at him sympathetically, wondering again what he had been doing
in the time that he had been gone from the gala. She'd find out in the
morning; someone would have the news by then. She stood beside him
and touched his cheek. "Maybe you should go home."

Clark placed his hands around her waist. "Only one problem with that."

"Oh? What's that?"

His eyes lit up as he flashed her a grin. "You're not there."

Lois bent her head to brush a whisper of a kiss across his lips. "Then
you'll have to stay."

She turned around and lifted two dark blue coffee mugs from hooks beneath
the cabinet by the sink, retrieved the milk from the fridge, and then,
remembering his sugar dependency, stretched to reach the small bowl of
sugar that she kept on the top shelf of the small cupboard next to the
fridge. Somehow, even though she had her back to Clark, she was aware that
he was watching her intently. He could touch her without even placing a
finger on her, she thought. She shook her head, as though erasing his
influence, and concentrated on the mundane task of serving coffee. She set
the sugar bowl on the counter as Clark stood up and crossed the few steps
that separated them. He stood close to her, just looking at her, his eyes
dark. Briefly, she wondered if he could read her mind as he pushed a strand
of her dark hair back from her forehead and smiled at her.

Caressing her hair, he said, "You know, this is the first time we've been
alone since we got off the train. I've missed you." His voice was low,
soft, seductive. Lois forgot about the coffee, forgot about everything else
but him as his strong arms went around her, pulling her close. He buried
his face in her dark silky hair. "I've waited for you for so long, Lois."
His voice was husky, intense.

And then somehow it happened, there in Lois's small kitchen, close to
midnight, on a rainy Saturday in April. Both Lois and Clark forgot about
their agendas, about their carefully constructed plans for moving their
relationship forward. All they were aware of was that they were in love and
that touching each other was just about the most blissful experience either
had ever known. They couldn't seem to stop kissing each other, their
passion rapidly escalating.

Lois broke away reluctantly and took a deep breath. "I guess you should be
going home."

"I guess so," his voice was a whisper, lacking conviction, and he continued
kissing her.

As she felt his lips brush hers, her arms slid around him and she increased
the intensity of their kiss, losing herself in her desire for him. He
whispered her name against her lips and then pulled her hard against his
body, kissing her hungrily. Lois could feel her desire rising, a sweet
flame softening her, melting her resolve, searing away her common sense.
She wanted him and at that moment that was all she could think of. She
didn't want him to leave; she never wanted him to leave. Pressing more
closely against him, she whispered, "Don't go Clark, please don't ever go."

"I won't, Lois. I won't." He swept her up into his arms then and carried
her into her bedroom. They made love for the first time that night, without
finesse, without prolonged skillful foreplay, but with passion and
intensity, instinct driving them towards each other, towards the union they
had been seeking in their souls since the day they had met. For each of
them, it was something new, unexpected; for each of them it was a
recognition of the truth that would bind them forever. Finally, as their
passion subsided, Clark touched her forehead with his. "I love you, Lois. I
have loved you from the beginning."

Lois was overwhelmed. Nothing had ever been like this before. Every part of
her body had melted, submitting itself to his. And she didn't care; she
didn't care about anything except the man who was holding her, touching her
face with his hand. She leaned back into the soft pillows of her bed and
smiled, a soft satisfied sigh languorously escaping her lips. She touched
his dark hair. "You are so wonderful, Clark Kent."

He smiled. "So are you, Lois Lane, so are you." He shifted onto his back,
holding her against him, and moments later, they were both asleep.

*****
Sunday morning, Clark awoke, floating about a foot above the bed and
momentarily uncertain about where he was, but with a tremendous sense of
well being flooding his consciousness. He felt like he could do anything.
As he drifted downward, a slight movement on his right caught his attention
and then he remembered why he felt so good. He grinned. Shifting onto his
side, he gazed at the sleeping face of his partner, her dark hair tousled
and spread across the white cotton of her pillowcase. He didn't want to
awaken her, so he just watched her, thinking how innocent she looked in her
sleep. And then he smiled again. Not after last night, he thought.

It had not happened the way he had dreamed or the way he had planned.
Instead, it had just happened, without either of them thinking at all. He
had fantasized about being her perfect lover, giving her what she'd never
had before, but it hadn't been like that. He'd been quick, losing control
as he abandoned himself in her, and then he had just responded to her,
driving into her as she rocked beneath him. God, it had felt wonderful. And
then she had cried out his name, arching up against him, clinging tightly
to him, and he had come to her a second time. Afterwards, as he had
withdrawn from her, he had been overwhelmed by her eyes, softly luminous in
the neon tinged moonlight that poured through the open curtains of the
large window opposite her bed. She had never looked at him like that before
and he knew that he would never be the same again.

As he looked at Lois now, he felt a surge of protectiveness. They belonged
together, nothing could change that now. He would tell her everything and
they would move forward.

He watched her as a small smile flitted across her face in her sleep. He
wondered what she was dreaming about. She opened her eyes slowly. "Clark,"
her voice was soft, thick with sleep. Then it wasn't; it was surprised,
startled, as her eyes opened wide. "Clark!" And then it was a slow
satisfied sigh, and the smile returned. "Clark." This was definitely the
way to wake up in the morning, he thought.

Lois reached her hand up to touch the side of his chin, now darkened with
morning stubble. "You look different with a beard."

He pulled her into his arms and nuzzled her cheek, stiff bristle scratching
soft skin. "You like?"

"Ouch! No." She giggled contentedly and rolled over, turning her back to
him and snuggling in against him so that she was still in his arms.

"Then it goes, Ms. Lane. Anything you want."

"Oh, easy promise, Kent!"

"But I will deliver." He pulled her more tightly to him, enjoying the
sensation of her bottom rubbing against him, an erotic caress. He growled
softly as he kissed the side of her neck.

It was at that very inopportune moment that someone knocked at Lois's
apartment door. "Damn!" Lois quickly got out of bed and stood for a moment,
distracted by the trail of evening clothes that led like a trail of bread
crumbs from her bed to the kitchen. She looked over to Clark who was
sitting up in bed, his arms stretched behind his head, looking at her, his
grin reflected in his eyes.

"What?" she said.

"You look pretty good first thing in the morning."

The knocking stopped and Lois froze as she heard the high pitch of her
sister Lucy's voice. "Lois, are you home?" Lois's eyes took on the
appearance of a deer's trapped in the headlights.

"Clark, you have to go." It was an order flung out as she marched toward
her closet and grabbed her generic pink chenille dressing gown. Her eyes
narrowed as she heard Clark chuckle. "It's not funny, Clark."

Then it got worse. "Mom's with me." That got Clark's attention and he shot
out of bed like a racer going for gold. He started dressing as Lois quickly
grabbed one of the pillows from the bed, pulled a blanket from the tiny
linen closet, flung both on her couch, took a deep breath, fixed a bright
smile on her face, and opened the front door.

Before she got a chance to speak, Ellen Lane started. "Lois, have you
forgotten Lucy's moving today? You were supposed to be at her place half an
hour ago." Noticing Clark in the kitchen, she continued without pausing,
"Oh good, Clark's here too. We can use his help. Why's he wearing a
tuxedo?" She stopped then and looked around, catching sight of the couch,
her eyes narrowed. "Is he hung over, Lois?"

"Mother! No! But, uh. . . we did think it might be better. . ."

"if I stayed the night." Clark's voice was smooth, calm. "Have some coffee,
Mrs. Lane?" He raised a mug in her direction. "What would you like in it?"

Lucy, who was both five years younger and five years more experienced than
her sister, tried not to laugh. She had used the "blanket on the couch"
stratagem herself. She walked over to the kitchen counter to help herself
to coffee. "Must've been uncomfortable on that short couch, Clark."

Lois followed her, took the glass of orange juice which Clark, one eyebrow
raised, silently held out to her, and proceeded into her bedroom. She hated
not being in control.

*****
Lois spent the rest of Sunday morning helping her mother and Lucy clean her
new apartment. It was tiny but bright, facing south and was in a more
central part of town than where Lucy was living at the moment. It was not a
good time, from Lucy's point of view to be moving, given that she was in
the midst of studying for the final exams that would lead to her degree.
However, this apartment had become available unexpectedly when a friend had
received a job offer on the west coast. Lucy had gone for the apartment
immediately.

Surprisingly, Lois had fun that morning. Housework had always been her idea
of gulag hell, but the three women seemed to coexist cheerfully as they
went about their task. Some bonding even occurred, although that may have
had more to do with the fact that they had wisely decided each to work in a
different area of the apartment. Lois even hummed at one point, but that
was probably because she was remembering the previous evening.

They finished shortly after noon and decided to walk around the corner to a
small pizza place for a quick lunch and also their first opportunity to try
out the local conveniences. A good pizza joint is an essential part of
success in finding a great apartment, so this was an important event. The
place passed the test, and the women relaxed.

As they ate, they talked about the superficial things that were uppermost
in their lives at the moment. Lucy was focused on her upcoming exams,
although she was not particularly worried about them. She had enjoyed her
courses, had worked hard, and done well. She'd been at loose ends for a
couple of years and tried several things, experimenting with her life. Then
she had admitted to herself, that as much as she had wanted to see herself
as a creative free spirit, she was born to be a financial analyst. The
flakiness remained in her personal life, however, as she cheerfully
admitted to her basic need to "relax" and thus moved from one gorgeous guy
to another, sometimes indulging in a bit of overlap if time and opportunity
permitted. Unlike her very guarded older sister.

So Clark's presence at Lois's place this morning struck Lucy as being only
just less momentous than permanent peace in the Middle East. She fixed her
older sister with a deceptively casual smile, wishing she had a cigarette
she could exhale, as she said, "So, did you and Clark have a good time last
night, Lois?"

Lois choked, but quickly recovered. She stirred her coffee and responded,
"Not bad. We went to the Metropolis Charity Gala. Business. Alice White has
the flu so Perry sent us as the paper's representatives."

"Well, I'm not surprised he has a drinking problem," Ellen said.

Both Lucy and Lois looked at their mother in surprise. "Oh, why is that?"
Lois asked.

"It's obvious, Lois. His background. He's from the country, so he's not
used to life in a big city. And he's a newspaperman, so that gives him lots
of opportunity to drink." Then came the clinching argument. "Remember, I
know this. My AA group is filled with men who've experienced stress because
of lifestyle changes. Be careful of that young man, Lois. He's not what he
seems. He's interested in you. That was obvious from the way he took care
of you after your wedding collapsed. You can do better than him."

"Mother, Clark does not have a drinking problem."

Never one to miss an opportunity, Lucy threw in "Of course not, there's
probably some other reason why he slept over last night, isn't there,
Lois?" Her virtual cigarette smoke formed a ring, drifting in Lois's
direction.

Lois narrowed her eyes and out it came. "Food poisoning. The shellfish.
Lucky I didn't have any."

*****
While the Lane women were working at Lucy's that morning, Clark had been
busy too. As soon as he had left Lois's place, he had flown to Metropolis
General Hospital to check on Roy McAndrew's condition. With relief, he
heard that the man was in stable condition, although the doctors were not
yet completely certain if he would be able to walk again. He was also
suffering from first degree burns which would take some time to heal.
Nevertheless, they were optimistic. Clark spoke with him for a few minutes,
although McAndrew was too medicated to focus clearly. Clark also talked to
McAndrew's anxious teenage son and to his worried wife who was seated at
his bedside, holding his hand. Clark hoped the man would recover and
decided to return the next morning to check on his progress.

After that, he flew to the fire department to see if they had determined
the cause of the blaze. They hadn't; although the forensic team was at that
moment on site collecting data. Clark headed out there and swooped down
next to the city department van to talk to one of the agents who was
labelling samples which she then placed in a metal case which she closed as
he landed beside her. For a moment he was aware of a sense of  painful
weariness. Worry over McAndrew was getting to him, he thought.

"Superman. I'm was hoping we would get to talk to you. I'd like to know
what you saw last night when you rescued the men in annex 3."

"Nothing unusual at first. But when I pulled McAndrew out, I noticed an
acrid smell and the fire seemed to burn almost turquoise. I flew over the
site when the fire was out and spotted what looked like fragments of
schrapnel, as if there'd been an explosion."

"Yeah, that's what we're thinking is the cause." She lightly tapped the top
of her metal case. " But we found some mineral particles that we can't
identify. They don't seem to be typical paint chemicals. I'm taking them
back to the lab where can run some special tests on them."

"I'd like to know the results."

"Sure. Can't see why not. We should have them tomorrow."

Nothing more could be accomplished there so Clark did a quick patrol of the
city and then flew off to Kansas in time to join his parents for their mid
morning coffee break and to submit to his mother's gentle probes about his
relationship with Lois. Although he was quite happy to talk about what had
happened in Legatteville, he was not prepared to talk about the wonder of
last night. Thus, he came away without revealing the whole truth and was
quite pleased with himself.

As he flew back to Metropolis, his thoughts returned to last night and he
did a few loops of pure joy as he thought about life with Lois Lane. Last
night had been incredible. Maybe it was best things had happened the way
they did, without "the plan." Making love last night had been natural,
meant to be, confirming that they belonged together. She was his haven, his
refuge and he loved her more than he had ever thought possible. Today, he
would take the next step.

And so it was that he arrived in an alley close to Lucy's new apartment,
spun into his jeans and sweatshirt, walked around the corner, and leaned
back, hands in his pockets, against the silver Cherokee to wait for the
arrival of the most beautiful woman in the world and her nearest and
dearest. With luck, he thought, they could be finished by five and then he
and Lois would have the rest of the weekend alone. He grinned.

"Hi Clark! Hope you haven't been waiting too long," Lucy called out
cheerfully as they came around the corner.

Lois just smiled at him demurely and said hi while Ellen's greeting was a
brisk "How's your stomach?"

"Pardon?" Startled, Clark looked at Lois, a question on his face.

"I'm sure it's fine. Food poisoning usually clears up the next day." Lois
tossed the ball to Clark who had become adept at receiving after nearly two
years of practice.

"Yeah. Thanks for asking, Mrs. Lane. Nothing too serious. I'll probably be
able to risk some dinner." Clark looked at Lois, hope in his eyes.

"Oh good. You can join the three of us, then. We'll have dinner at Lois's,
nothing special. I'll be staying with her for the next couple of days
before I go to Las Vegas. And call me Ellen, Clark."

Clark sighed.

*****
As soon as possible Monday morning, Clark flew to Metropolis General to
check again on Roy McAndrew's progress. This time, the man was fully alert
and willing to talk about what had happened on Saturday night. He worked as
a shipping clerk at Metro Paint and that night they had been unloading a
special order for an upscale brownstone renovation. The wealthy owners
wanted the color to match those used in 1880 when the townhouse had been
built, but before that could be done, Metro Paint had to get pigments from
out of town. There was a rush on to finish the job, and therefore the order
had been shipped as soon as possible. This was not unusual; Metro Paint's
main plant was located about sixty miles out of town. They'd had a few of
these special orders over the last year or so. At any rate, McAndrew had
left the order outside on the shipping platform that extended from annex 3
so that it could be transferred to the small truck that would take it into
Metropolis. It was after that truck had left and while he was recording the
delivery on his computer terminal that he heard the explosion. Almost
immediately, the room in which he was working had been engulfed in flame.

Clark checked carefully with McAndrew on this last point. Paint related
fires were usually a result of spontaneous combustion, not explosions. He
wondered if the fire had started first, causing the explosion. McAndrew
couldn't be positive, but he was sure that he had neither smelled smoke nor
seen flames prior to the explosion. Besides, the warehouse was well
equipped with smoke detectors.

At that point, McAndrew's doctor entered and spoke with McAndrew and his
family. His voice was smooth, professionally confident, as he informed them
that the surgery appeared successful, that the damage to McAndrew's back
had been less severe than expected, and there was no question that McAndrew
would walk again after careful and lengthy rehabilitation.

Clark could feel some of the tension in the room lift and for the first
time McAndrew's teenage son seemed to realize that he was in the same room
as Superman. His stream of questions was interrupted by his mother, who
smiled with affection at her son and reminded him that Superman was a busy
man. Nevertheless, Clark did his best to answer the boy's questions.

Clark was not a busy man that Monday morning, although he would like to
have been. For a change, both Metropolis and the world seemed to be devoid
of any major crisis, at least one that was fixable by his skills. He should
have been busy with Lois Lane, he thought, talking about Saturday night,
getting their future sorted out, and just generally fooling around in the
spring sunshine. But this morning ( and for the next two days), his partner
was sharing space with her mother which meant that coffee on Tuesday was as
close as he and Lois were going to get. So, in an admirable attempt to keep
his mind away from Lois Lane's body, mind, and soul, he set himself a list
of chores that would keep him busy until the Fire Department's report would
be ready that afternoon: return the tux, send flowers to Lois
(forget-me-nots), visit the Metropolis Detention Centre, phone Lois, fly to
Kansas to help his dad with the new barn, drop by the Metropolis Zoo
Expansion Project, and phone Lois.

By the time he had completed all these, it was 3 o'clock. Streaking back to
the centre of the city, he landed firmly on the cracked sidewalk in front
of the Metropolis Fire Department, his red cape billowing out from his
shoulders. Once inside, he was handed a copy of the fire report, although
not, as he had expected, by Chief Calhoun himself. Clark smiled inwardly to
himself as he realized he was becoming accustomed to having access to the
top brass when he wanted to, something that Clark Kent did not
automatically have. He acknowledged to himself that that was why he had
come in the suit this morning. He opened the folder and quickly read the
contents. The report was short, stating that the cause of the fire was
accidental: spontaneous combustion that had started in the receiving dock
of the warehouse, probably employee negligence.

Clark was surprised. He noticed Calhoun's signature on the report and also
that of the investigative team's head, Gwen Reed, the agent to whom he'd
been talking Sunday morning. No mention of the unidentified mineral that
she had found. He looked up from the report. "I'd like to talk to Ms. Reed."

"No problem," the young assistant said. "I'll walk over with you to the
labs. I have something there I need to check on anyway."

When they got to the labs, Gwen Reed was not there. She'd been called away
shortly after lunch to lend her expertise to another case out of state. The
technician to whom they were talking was vague. He couldn't remember where
she had gone, and they had left no number where she could be reached.

"They?" Superman asked.

"Yeah, it must've been a real emergency. The guy who came for her was real
serious. No small talk."

"Try reaching her on her cell phone. I'd like to talk to her about the fire
at Metro Paint."

"Sure." The technician picked up the phone on the desk beside him and
quickly punched in a series of numbers that were clearly familiar to him.
"No answer," he said after a moment. "Maybe she doesn't have it with her."
He shrugged his shoulders. "When she gets back, I'll tell her you want to
talk to her." Then he looked perplexed. "Uh, how can she get in touch with
you?"

Clark smiled. "Ask her to call Clark Kent at the Daily Planet."

*****
As Clark flew over the city he thought about the implications of the report
he had just read. Had Reed been wrong in her initial assessment of the
cause of the fire? But she had held the tightly capped vial of particles up
for a second as she had talked to him. Then she had put it in the metal
case which contained all the evidence which she and her colleagues had
collected at the site. The report should have referred to it even if she
had been unable to identify it. No reference to the schrapnel either. Why
not? And the bit about employee negligence alarmed Clark. That meant Roy
McAndrew. He felt his anger rise at the thought that McAndrew, especially
in his current state, was about to become the fall guy.

That thought led him automatically back to Metro General to check with
McAndrew again. He stopped briefly at the admissions desk in the main foyer
of the hospital but was waved through without question by the nurse on
duty. At first he had felt ridiculous in the costume in situations like
this, but when it soon became apparent that the suit was a quick way around
red tape, he found it easy to accept the fact that his mother's design
skills had clearly been honed while reading comic books in the 1940's.

When he arrived at the Intensive Care Unit, he strode down the hall towards
McAndrew's room. The door was open and he stepped in to find the room
vacant, freshly made up, and ready for a new arrival. Clark was taken aback
for a moment, and then he quickly retraced his steps to the central desk.
The duty nurse smiled at him as he approached.

"Superman, I suppose you've come to see Roy McAndrew. Good news. His
company has taken responsibility for his care. They arrived at noon to take
him to a private clinic outside of the city."

"Do you have the name of the clinic?"

"Um," she reached under a stack of loose forms to her right. "Had it here a
minute ago. Yeah," she looked at one of the forms closely. "The Hilfegger
Clinic. Upstate New Troy. Just outside Ashton."

"Did his family go with him?"

"I'm not sure. I think they were going home first to pack some things for
overnight and then go up on their own."

"Thanks." Clark took off, flying north towards Ashton, circling around the
dark wooded perimeter of the small town until he spotted a large complex
that might possibly be the clinic, although it looked pretty deserted.
Swooping down, he landed at the front of the building. A weather-beaten
sign identified it as the Hilfegger Clinic, but its derelict condition
didn't seem too promising. He was about to enter the main wing when he was
approached by a man in late middle age who looked at him suspiciously.

"Didn't think you were for real. Figured you were a publicity stunt they
made up to sell newspapers. Is it true then?"

"Is what true?"

"You can fly?"

"Yeah." Clark hovered a few feet in the air to prove his point.

"Ah. . ." The man's eyes lit up. "Well, I'm glad I got to see that." Then
he became more business like and stretched out his hand to shake Clark's.
"I'm John Smithson, custodian and general manager of this place." He waved
his hand toward the rundown three story building that once must have been
quite impressive.

"You mean the clinic no longer takes patients?"

"It hasn't for about five years. Went bankrupt when Dr. Hilfegger was
convicted of insurance fraud but it's just started up again. About six
months ago. There's a few patients but they're still doing a lot of work on
the place. I tried to keep the place in as much repair as I could manage on
my own."

"Who owns it now?"

"The Meridian Management Corporation. At least, they're the ones that sign
the checks. That's all I know."

Clark walked in to the large front foyer which was mostly empty except for
a receptionist's area at the far side. "Superman!" The woman at the desk
looked up as he approached. Clark askedif he could see McAndrew but was
told that no patient of that name was currently at the clinic. In fact,
they had few patients at the moment. Before leaving the area, Clark did a
quick air tour of the building, checking it with his x-ray vision. No sign
of Roy McAndrew.

*****
Shortly before seven o'clock that evening, Clark knocked on the door of
apartment 501 and waited patiently while the resident tenant unlocked it.

"Clark!" Lois was surprised. She hadn't expected to see Clark at all today.

"I need to talk to you." Yes, she thought, he's going to tell me. Those
phone calls; he's had something on his mind all day.

"I'll get my jacket and we can go for a walk," she was turning towards her
closet when his voice stopped her.

"I don't think that's a good idea. It's started to rain pretty heavily." He
closed the door behind him as he entered the room. He came up behind her,
and placed his hands on her shoulders just as Ellen Lane called out.

"Is that Lucy, Lois? I thought she was studying tonight."

Clark walked into the kitchen. "Hi, Ellen. I hope you don't mind, but I
wanted to talk to Lois about a story I've run into problems with." He
picked up the dish towel that Lois had discarded and began to dry the few
dishes stacked in the rack by the sink.

Ellen let the water out of the sink and smiled at the tall young man beside
her. "No, of course not. But we're planning on going to the new Jane Austen
movie at 8:30. Would you like to come with us?"

Watching this brief exchange, Lois sighed. He's not going to tell me.
That's not why he came. Then what were all those phone calls about today?
She poured coffee and they sat down on the elegant white bench, which Lois
called a sofa, in her living room.

"Clark, I don't know how you managed to sleep on that thing," Ellen said
grimacing in the direction of the sofa. "I tried napping on it this
afternoon, and it's barely long enough. Not to mention, it's hard as a
rock."

"I slept quite well." Clark's face was devoid of expression and then his
eyes met Lois's briefly. "Never better."

"That's polite of you to say, Clark, but Lois does need to get help from a
professional decorator." Her hand waved over the expanse of the whole room.
"Even though it's small, this place does have some potential. I keep
telling Lois I have a friend who works at Neiman's who would be only too
willing. . ." Ellen sighed as she caught her daughter in mid eye-roll.
"Well, I should let you get on with your problem, Clark. Maybe, I can help."

Lois turned to look at her mother, her eyes wide. "Mother, maybe we should
find out what the problem is first." Her mother sighed and left the room
and Lois realized she had hurt her feelings. Lois turned to Clark and
waited for him to start, thinking to herself that nothing was going the way
it was supposed to. She wondered if he thought that too.

"Superman has run into a bit of a dilemma and he would like our help."

Oh, really, Lois thought. And perhaps he'll share a little information with
me in return. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him, and crossed her
arms in front of her. If Clark was surprised by her body language, he did
not show it.

He proceeded then to tell her about the fire and the events that had
followed, expressing his concern about Roy McAndrew's whereabouts as well
as the falsifying of the fire report.

"I don't understand, Clark. What can we do that Superman can't? Surely he's
searched as much of the area as possible to find McAndrew."

"He has, Lois. Nothing."

Lois was interested in spite of herself. She smelled a story here, and if,
at this moment, she didn't also want to remind him that she had her own
agenda too, she would have jumped in ahead of him. Instead, she leaned back
against her couch. "So what does he want us to do?"

"Some digging. I wrote that brief account of the fire in this morning's
paper. About four paragraphs on page five. You probably missed it," he
grimaced.

"I never miss *anything* you do, Kent." Lois's voice was soft and yet meant
as a reminder to him, a declaration perhaps.

Clark turned his head to look at her, not speaking for a moment. "Then
we'll start on this tomorrow morning?"

"Clark, I know you think this story is important, but it's not the only one
I'm interested in right now. I've set up an interview with Victoria Gates
for eleven o'clock tomorrow morning."

"What? Put that on hold, Lois, for a while. She won't go away."

Lois was offended. "Clark, I haven't admitted defeat on Gates yet. This
interview could give me some kind of lead that I can follow up. I do not
intend to back away; Gates is not going to get away with murder." Then,
surprising even herself, her voice determined, "And Superman is not going
to decide what I do."

Clark looked startled. "Lois, it's not like that. Superman does not want to
control you. . . us," he quickly added.

"Then what does he want, Clark?"

They were both standing by now, staring in surprise at each other. "He
wants to find out the truth, and he wants to protect Roy McAndrew," he
said. "And he can't do it alone."

Lois searched his dark eyes, seeing there an earnest plea and she was torn
between her desire to help him and her commitment to her own story.
Finally, she said, "Okay, Clark, I'll help, but my interview is still on."
Her voice was firm.

He grinned and she thought he was about to hug her when her mother
re-entered the room. "Okay people, let's go. We've got fifteen minutes to
get to the theatre and there's probably a line-up." She handed Lois her
jacket and headed toward the door.

Lois touched Clark's arm. "Look, Clark, you don't have to come with us. I
know this movie isn't on the top ten guy-movie list."

"True," a boyish grin flashed across his face, "but there's a bonus."

"Oh? And that would be?"

"I get to sit next to you, and, if I'm lucky, I get to hold your hand."

He did, and he was, although, he had to leave for a half an hour in the
middle of the film to deal with a prison riot in California.

*****
Of course, Lois and Clark had forgotten during their Monday evening talk
that the real master of their universe was Perry White. When they presented
their plans to him Tuesday morning, he was silent for a moment, rubbing his
hand across his chin. That meant that he wanted them on something else, but
because he respected them both he was making a show of thinking about it.
For a moment. Then he spoke.

"Put the fire on hold, Clark. LNN covered it briefly on Sunday and you have
no evidence that shoots down the report. I like the interview, Lois. It
ties in with Clark's Sunday piece and links to the presidential race. So
that gives you both two hours to cover the Mayor's press conference on the
city's reaction to the state budget."

Clark didn't give up. Gesturing with one hand, he tried again. "Look,
Chief, I know there doesn't seem to be much there, but Superman seemed
pretty sure that this was not a regular fire. McAndrew seemed to think
there was an explosion. The report leaves too much out. Besides, Ralph is
better suited for the budget story. He's the numbers guy."

Perry looked at him steadily for a moment. "Exactly. Kiss of death for the
story. I want that budget meeting covered by someone who can find the human
interest angle." He relented for a moment. "Once you've got that report in,
follow your hunch. But I want to know something new tomorrow morning. The
Planet can't afford to have its best reporters running off playing Sam
Spade when there are real stories out there. What would have happened to
Elvis if the Colonel had let him run his own career?"

"No white cape Elvis?" Lois said, tucking her hair behind one ear and
leaning back into her chair.

Perry fixed one eye on her. "You plannin' on getting comfortable there for
the morning?" he drawled.

Lois grinned and grabbed Clark's sleeve. "On our way, Chief."

In the elevator, a tense Clark looked at Lois. "This is a waste of time,
Lois. I can predict right now what the Mayor's going to say."

Lois looked at him sympathetically as the elevator stopped at the next
floor to admit two people from accounting. They all smiled politely and
rode the rest of the way in silence. When they wereoutside on the pavement,
Clark stopped and looked at Lois. "Look, I just need a few minutes to check
up on something. I'll meet you at city hall."

Lois was surprised. "Clark. . ." Her voice was a warning. "Don't you get
distracted by this."

"I'll be there, I promise." With that he turned and quickly walked off, one
hand tugging at his tie.

She stood for a moment, watching him as he disappeared around the corner.
Maybe you could let me in on what you're doing, she thought wistfully but
also with some degree of annoyance. Maybe he thought he could
compartmentalize his life. Lois and Clark, but Superman always alone. Was
that what Saturday night had been about? She felt empty inside as she
turned to hail a cab.

Clark, at that moment, was flying across town to a suburban development
built in the late 1950's, its neat streets a grid, dotted with small brick
bungalows comfortably separated by large old trees. In seconds, he was
standing on Roy McAndrew's front porch, not attracting much attention in an
area where kids were either at school or day care and most parents worked.
Connie McAndrew opened the front door to him, slightly flustered at his
presence.

"I wondered how your husband was doing, Mrs. McAndrew. I understand he's
been moved to a private clinic, the Hilfegger Clinic."

"Yes, yes. It's such a nice place. He'll get better personal care there."

"You've visited him there already?"

"Yesterday afternoon." Clark detected an acceleration in her heart rate as
she spoke, whether because she was lying or she was afraid, he wasn't sure.
"Thank you for asking, Superman. You saved my husband's life." She paused
for a moment as though unsure what to say next. "Look, I'm running a bit
late this morning. I was just leaving for work when you arrived."

"I won't keep you. Tell him, I was asking for him and if he wants to talk
to me, he can call Clark Kent at the Daily PLanet."

Clark's next stop was the Fire Department's forensic labs to check with
Gwen Reed, who was, as it turned out, still out of town. No one was sure
exactly when she was expected back. The technician to whom he'd been
speaking yesterday said she'd gone to San Francisco to help analyze data
collected at the site of the extensive harbor fire last week. She hadn't
been in touch with the labs since she'd left but that was not unusual. The
technician would ask her to contact Clark Kent as soon as she returned.

Following those two dead ends, Clark thought one more inspection of the
fire site might be a good idea. Soaring upward into the bright morning sky,
he veered toward Metro Paint Corp. and then swung low over the site of the
fire. There was nothing to inspect; the area had been cleaned of all debris
and a work crew was rebuilding that part of the shipping bay destroyed by
the fire. Nothing. Clark let out a breath in frustration and then flew back
to downtown Metropolis.

He arrived about a half an hour late at city hall and quickly took the
empty seat next to his partner who looked at him coolly. He shrugged his
shoulders and answered her with a helpless "forces beyond my control" look
and took his note pad out of the inner pocket of his suit. As he was doing
so, he was distracted for a moment by Lois's right knee, crossed elegantly
over her left thigh. The neat hem of her red wool skirt framed the contours
of her knee, highlighting the intricate structure where it joined her
thigh, leading his eyes elsewhere, beckoning his mind elsewhere.

A malfunction in the microphone shifted his attention, its high pitched
distortion of the mayor's voice grating on his ears. He exhaled, and paid
attention, quickly looking over the mayor's handout that Lois had picked up
for him, and then skimming her notes on the meeting. She really did make
his unaccountable absences easier. Catching the thread of the press
conference, he joined in on the questioning, following his personal
interest in the rehabilitation of the Hobbs Bay area and Suicide Slum while
Lois followed her interest in the funding of the recent T.V. ad campaigns
selling the merits of the mayor's policies.

Shortly before eleven o'clock, Lois leaned close to him and whispered,
"Gotta go for my interview now. Here're my notes." She touched his knee for
a moment, taking pleasure in the solid reality of his muscle and bone. She
met his eyes for a moment. "I'll see you back at the Planet."

Clark placed his hand over the slender one on his knee. "Do you think
there'll be time for just the two of us today?"

Rising, she smiled, her eyes lighting up. "Maybe five minutes."

****
Lois was greeted at the door of one of the luxury apartments in the Lexor
Towers by a trim Victoria Gates, dressed in navy blue. Her smile was
genuine as she led Lois into the large, comfortable room to a sitting area
looking out over the skyline of Metropolis. Lois sat down and took out a
small tape recorder. "Do you mind?" she asked. "It helps keep my quotes
accurate."

"Then by all means." Victoria agreed. "But it does make me feel like I'd
better say something worth quoting. By the way," she added as a maid
appeared at the entrance to the room, "I've asked Mary to prepare some
coffee and muffins. If your day starts as early as mine, you're probably
ready for a recharge."

Lois was. She sat back comfortably in the armchair and watched as the young
woman rolled a wooden trolley into the sitting area and poured each of them
a cup of coffee  before leaving them alone. Lois felt more like she was
having a conversation with an old friend as Victoria talked about her two
children and the work that she did for various charities.

As they chatted, Lois noticed that Victoria rarely mentioned her husband
and Lois wondered again how much the woman knew about her husband's past
and about the extent of her involvement in his current activities. She
squirmed slightly as she remembered how little she had known about Lex's
business, about how little she had even tried to find out. How could she
have done that, turned a blind eye to what must have been at least
occasionally apparent in his behavior? How could she have subverted a
significant part of her character to play the part of the supportive
fiancee? Why had she been so easily misled by his flattery? Was it his
power that had seduced her, the knowledge that, as his wife, she would be
able to go behind all those closed doors that had always tantalized her?
Had Victoria been bought like that too?

"You haven't talked much about your marriage. How did you and the Senator
meet?"

Victoria bent her head as she poured more coffee, the fall of her sleek
brown hair partially obscuring her face. "We met about twenty-five years
ago at a reception for the Ambassador from Argentina. I had gone with my
older brother who had known Tony from University. He introduced us."

"Love at first sight?"

"Infatuation maybe. He was awfully good -looking."

"My partner and I briefly interviewed your husband two weeks ago at your
place in Minnesota. We were helping my aunt on a local story at the time.
It certainly is beautiful there. You must enjoy it very much."

"Yes, it is beautiful there. But since the children have got older, I don't
go there much. It's mostly Tony and his fishing and poker buddies. By the
way, I read your article on the murder in the Planet. I must say I thought
it was quite good. I don't suppose the authorities will ever find who was
responsible for that poor girl's death now."

"No, probably not."

"It's a shame though. It would be nice for her family to have a full sense
of closure."

She hoped that somehow this woman would not have to know and yet Lois
was determined to bring the full story to light. She was about to ask
Victoria about her husband's presidential aspirations when there was a
knock on the apartment door. Victoria rose and walked across the white rug
to the small entrance foyer to open the door. From where she was sitting,
Lois could see the visitor and was surprised. It was one of the Pentagon's
five star generals, Gen. Thomas Jackson.

Victoria introduced him to Lois. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, ladies. I
dropped by on the chance that the Senator was here but I see he's not. I
won't keep you from your conversation."

Victoria smiled politely and offered him a cup of coffee before he left.
The general thanked her and sat down in the armchair across from Lois while
Victoria poured coffee in that graceful way that somehow few women ever
attained. Lois noticed that the general watched Victoria's movements,
admiration and respect clearly evident in his blunt features.

"What brings you to Metropolis, General?" Lois asked.

"I'm on a brief leave. I have some old friends here and it seemed like a
good time to catch up with them. By the way, I remember your editor, Perry
white, from years ago in Viet Nam. Give him my regards, will you?"

"I'd be pleased to. I'd love to have known him in those days," Lois said,
"covering the story of a lifetime."

"Each lifetime has its own story, Ms. Lane, its own war."

Lois was interested. "What would you say our story is now, General, our war?"

"Terrorists, power vacuums in the developing world, dictators experimenting
with unauthorized weaponry. I could go on, unfortunately."

"Those are hard wars to fight. What about here at home?" Lois asked.

"Here? Our wars are different here."

"But nevertheless, threats to our security?"

"Oh, yes, Ms. Lane."

"In your opinion, what is the biggest threat facing us now?"

The general looked at her steadily for a moment and then put down his empty
coffee cup. "Sometimes the threat is where we least expect it to be."
Rising from his chair, he turned to Victoria Gates, thanked her, and then
left the room.

Lois tried to keep the surprise out of her voice as she spoke. "That was
odd. What could he have meant by that?"

Victoria laughed. "I think he means Superman. We had dinner with him the
other night, and he was talking a bit about how he thinks we ought to be
more suspicious of Superman's long term plans."

"Oh. Just what does he think those are?"

"Well, he says Superman is an unknown quantity. He appears out of nowhere
and he has enough power to do a lot of damage. He believes we have to be
careful and be able to defend our country against him if necessary."

"That seems a bit paranoid."

"I know. I've seen too much evidence of the good Superman has done in this
city to believe that."

Lois was concerned. "Have you known the general for a long time?"

"No, Tony seems to have only met him about a year or so ago. I suppose he's
part of a military lobby group. Tony heads the Senate subcommittee on
Appropriations."

Lois knew. "That must make him a popular man."

Victoria laughed. "It does. Occasionally even I get lobbied."

Lois smiled but didn't pursue the point, not wanting to put Victoria on the
spot. It had been quite clear earlier that she was not involved in his
business interests. Lois would follow it up later. She remembered that the
Gates' family business had been manufacturing munitions at some point,
although she did not think that it still did. Given his current government
position, he would have had to divest himself of direct business
involvement anyway. Otherwise, it would be a conflict of interest. They
chatted for awhile longer and then Lois, aware that the amount of time that
Victoria had originally said she had free had disappeared, brought the
interview to an end.

When Lois got back to the Planet, she was hoping to kidnap Clark and take
him across to the park for a half hour of sunshine, hotdogs, and her. The
weather had turned beautiful, its clear freshness hinting at the summer to
come. The emerging leaves on the tall maples were almost fluorescent,
blazing bright green against the crisp blue of the spring sky. She and
Clark could talk and put everything else aside for awhile. It would be
wonderful, their own small oasis. And they did need to talk.

He was at his desk, frowning at his computer terminal. She smiled
indulgently; charmed by the wayward dark swatch of hair dangling on his
forehead, his lean strong hand touching his chin as he concentrated on the
screen, his. . . Get a grip, Lane, she told herself severely. You're
thinking like an adolescent, and a particularly drippy one at that. Your
real adolescentself would have scoffed sarcastically. Yeah, well, my
adolescent self didn't know Clark Kent, she mentally defended herself.

She was startled out of this debate by Jimmy Olsen. "Lois! Great! You're
back. We're going across to the park for lunch. Grab some dogs from Joe and
catch the rays." Lois must have looked disappointed because some of Jimmy's
enthusiasm disappeared. "You haven't already had lunch, have you?"

"No, no. Lunch in the park sounds wonderful."

By this time, Clark had swiveled around in his chair and was watching the
two of them, thinking how great Lois looked in that red suit. My scarlet
woman, he thought. He stood up, walked over to them, slid his hand across
her shoulder, and smiled at her. "Hi," his voice was soft, "How'd your
interview go."

"Good. I like her Clark; I wish I didn't. I'll tell you about it later,"
she added as they were joined by Penny and Nick. They all headed toward the
elevator.

****
By mid afternoon, Clark and Lois had wrapped up their coverage of the
budget meeting and sent it across to a pleased Perry. That meant Clark was
free to turn his attention to the fire again and Lois to write up her
interview with Victoria Gates. Then she would work with Clark on his story.

First, Clark called the Fire Dept., hoping to find Gwen Reed returned, but
had no luck. Then, he left the Planet for Metro Paint Corp. in hopes of
talking to the three men Superman had helped the night of the fire. When he
got to the warehouse, it took some persistence to track them down but he
finally found two of them checking inventory in the annex off the main
plant. The two men were happy to tell him about Superman's rescue; they
were convinced he had saved their lives that night and were quite prepared
to give Clark all the details: how close they were to death, the intensity
of the blaze, the amazing strength of the superhero as he held the fallen
beam. They got into a bit of a disagreement on their memory of what
Superman had looked like ( something Clark had not asked ) but decided that
he was about six and a half feet tall and had eyes that blazed red. Clark
was amazed. But they had no clear memory of the moment when the fire had
started.

Both had been driving forklifts inside the warehouse, ferrying cartons of
paint from one of the three trucks that had arrived that night when the
blaze started. They'd cleared out as soon as possible, only to find
themselves trapped by the fallen beam. They were not aware of anything that
might have been an explosion at the beginning, although the sound of the
fire and the collapse of one warehouse wall was nearly deafening. They had
mentioned all this to the investigators from the fire department. Clark
wondered about the late delivery but that apparently had become common in
the last two years with the boom in the economy. Great for them too,
because they got time and a half for Saturday night.

Clark asked them about Roy McAndrew, if they knew how he was doing. The two
were not as forthcoming about this. They'd heard he was doing fine, but
they hadn't been to visit him. They'd intended to, but they'd been told he
didn't want any visitors yet, just family. They hadn't known about the
HIlfegger Clinic, but it was good to know that the company took such good
care of its employees. They were only moderately disappointed when Clark
did not want their pictures for the paper, but Clark did make a point of
making sure that he had spelled their names correctly.

In other words, not much useful information. Clark decided to wander over
to where the work crew was rebuilding annex three and, sliding his glasses
down his nose a fraction, took a quick look around. Nothing. Then he
noticed a small bit of jagged dull plastic in the gravel not far from the
chain link fence that enclosed the unloading zone. He walked over, stooped
quickly, and slid it into his pocket, just as a powerfully built security
guard jogged over to him. Clark flashed his press card, did his best
mild-mannered routine, and asked the guard about the construction underway.
The guard defused but had littleto say. In response to Clark's next
enquiry, he pointed him in the direction of Personnel.

The young woman in Personnel was new on the job and eager to be helpful.
She had been in touch with Mrs. McAndrew immediately after the fire and
assured her that the company would do its best to see that her husband was
well cared for. She was surprised to hear that he had been removed from the
hospital, however. She hadn't known that the company had access to a
private clinic. It must be part of the deal that the Company had just
completed with a new insurance company. It wasn't in the health benefits
brochure yet. She beamed at Clark; the Company really did take good care of
its employees.

****
Clark got back to the Planet just before six o'clock. As Superman, he had
stopped by Star Labs to leave the plastic fragment for examination. It was
probably nothing, he speculated, given how successfully the rest of his
enquiries at Metro Paint had gone. Still, he didn't want to overlook this.
Now, he just wanted to catch Lois before she left for the day, to spend a
bit of time with her if he could.

He knew that this was Ellen Lane's last night in town before flying to Las
Vegas tomorrow morning. Lois was going to have dinner with her sister and
mother which meant that Clark would not get to see her unless he caught her
before she left the paper. He hoped he had not missed her.

He hadn't. As the elevator door slid apart, he saw her busy at her computer
terminal, intently focused on what she was writing. The interview with
Victoria Gates, he supposed, hoping that she was right about this bringing
them one step closer into Gates' world, one step closer to bringing the man
to account for what had happened so long ago. He walked over to her desk to
sit on its edge, waiting until she finished her current entry. She flashed
him a quick smile and continued typing rapidly for a moment, hit the save
key, and logged off.

"Enough for today. I'll finish tomorrow. How'd things go at Metro Paint?"

"Not great. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm imagining the whole thing."

"No, you're not wondering that at all," she stood and touched his arm
briefly, before reaching for her bag. "It's just not going the way you want
it to."

He grinned at her. "Not much sympathy from you, Ms. Lane."

"Not true. I'm very sympathetic. I've just got more important things on my
mind."

"Oh, and they would be?"

"Dinner with my mother and my sister, both of whom want to tell me how to
live my life."

"Ah. Something you would never dream of doing to them," he said with mock
seriousness.

Lois grinned again. "That's right." She pulled her leather bag over her
shoulder and started toward the elevator. "Any chance you might walk me
home?"

"Every chance."

After leaving the Planet, they cut across the street to the huge park which
provided a short cut through the towering business section of Metropolis to
the old apartment blocks in which Lois lived. As they turned onto one of
the narrow paths that twisted through the park, Clark took Lois's hand and
began to relax. They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments,
letting the events of the day retreat for awhile as they wandered in this
more secluded section of the park, through the shrubs whose swollen buds
were breaking into fresh yellow and pink blooms along arching branches. It
was Clark who spoke first.

"About Saturday night Lois,"

"Um," her voice was a contented purr as she pulled his hand up to her shoulder.

"It wasn't what I intended to happen."

"Oh? Lost control, did you, Kent?" she teased.

"Kind of." He smiled blissfully at the memory and stopped walking, turning
her so that they were facing each other. He bent his head so that his lips
met hers in a sweet brief caress.

"So what did you intend?" Lois moved into his arms and deepened their kiss,
her arms sliding around his neck as she moved her mouth against his.

He spoke in a husky whisper, his mouth against her cheek. He was losing
control again. "I intended to ask you to marry me first." Pulling back for
a moment, he looked at her seriously. Then, his fingers twined gently
through her dark hair. "Marry me, Lois. Marry me now, as soon as possible.
. ." His voice was intense, low.

Lois pulled away from him, startled. Who's asking, she wondered, Clark or
Superman? But she knew the answer. Clark was asking; Superman was not a
part of him that he was planning on sharing with her. How could she marry
him as long as he was not prepared to be completely honest with her, to
trust her. Her dark eyes pooled with unshed tears as she met his eyes. "I
can't."

She watched as the light died in his eyes and his face tightened. He
dropped his hands from her shoulders and exhaled sharply. "I see." A pause
and then, his voice bitter, "So just what was Saturday night about then?"

"Clark, that's not fair." Her voice was defiant.

"Isn't it? I thought you loved me."

"Don't you do that to me, Clark Kent. Don't you make me feel guilty for
what I feel."

"Oh, I get it. It's all right for you to have feelings, but I'm just
supposed to be there, waiting for you to make up your mind. . ."

"Clark. . ."

"Superman, Luthor, me. Who's next, Lois?" She'd never heard that tone of
angry bitterness in his voice before.

She turned abruptly and walked as fast as she could away from him. He did
not follow.

****
Clark watched her until she had disappeared. Then, without thinking,
without spinning into the suit, he shot directly up into the air, propelled
by a pain that he had not felt since the night he had watched her accept
Luther's proposal. He shot across the horizon until he came to a part of
the world that was in darkness and he let himself drift numbly in space
unaware of the stars above him. How could he have been so mistaken?
Whatever emotion it was that had led her to let him into her bed on
Saturday night was clearly not strong enough to make her want to stay with
him. Gradually, he calmed down. He had managed to survive before when she'd
got engaged to Luthor. He could manage again.

****
Deliberately, Clark went to work early the next morning after a sleepless
night, hoping to get started on any story that would take him out of the
building before Lois came in. Perry was in early too, and this time Clark
was able to convince his boss to let him follow his investigation of the
fire.

"One day, son, that's what you've got. Work with Lois on it. If she can't
dig up anything, there's nothin' there."

"Thanks, Chief, but Lois is still working on her article on Victoria Gates.
I'll work alone on this one."

Perry raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He was disappointed though.
He'd had the impression that things had been going as smoothly as an Elvis
ballad between his two star reporters. As he and Clark continued talking,
there was a light knock on his door and Lois entered.

She stopped abruptly when she saw Clark and said, "Oh. . . I didn't realize
you were busy. I can come back later."

Perry turned to Clark, "Care to explain, son?"

"It's complicated, chief."

Perry knew that meant that Clark was out of his depth in whatever had
happened between him and Lois Lane. Silently, he wished Clark luck but
figured he'd need a lot of help.

Back at their respective desks, Lois and Clark were ostentatiously busy,
desperately avoiding eye contact. Willing himself not to think about her,
Clark logged on to his computer, noting with interest an e-mail from Gwen
Reed. He read it quickly.

       *Mr. Kent: The official report on Saturday's fire omits the evidence
found by Superman and any reference to the mineral particles which I found
on site. I haven't been able to identify those particles, but I don't think
they're a synthetic base for paint. They don't appear harmful, however, and
I don't think they could have been the cause. Nevertheless, there was an
insistence that any reference to them be removed from the report. Can you
let Superman know that I think he was right about the cause of the fire?*

Clark got up and quickly left, walking past Lois's desk as he went to the
elevator. Lois did not raise her eyes until he had passed her desk. Then
she sat still for a moment, before turning back to her computer, hitting
the keys quickly and aggressively.

She had not slept last night, going over in her mind what had happened
between them in the park. He didn't understand; or maybe, she had
misunderstood him. Maybe he had never intended to share his whole life with
her, maybe never even thought about it. Maybe getting married was what
Kansas guys still did, and then once married, put "the wife" in a separate
compartment in their lives while they got on with all the other guy things.
Maybe guys from outer space were no different. Maybe that was why, as
Superman, he had become increasingly remote. She had been gradually merging
the two men in her mind but she had been wrong. He didn't trust her.
Superman works alone. She bit her lower lip and frowned at her computer
screen. Why had she thought Clark was different from the others? Because
they had been so close, she thought, because they had really become
partners. And then Saturday night. . . she was embarrassingly close to
crying when Chantal Tessier walked by her desk, a cup of coffee in her
slender hand.

Perching on the edge of Lois's desk, Chantal recognized the classic signs
of a woman in distress and raised one finely arched eyebrow. "That's the
first time I've seen Clark Kent pass your desk without stopping since I've
been here, " she commented. "Must've been some fight."

Lois sighed, "Yeah, it was."

"Well, time to move on, Lois. Clark's sweet, and definitely gorgeous, but
he's never going to be more than a reporter. He's kinda like my first
husband."

Lois looked surprised. "He is?"

"Yeah. A policeman. Still is. My high school sweetheart. Idealistic, easy
on the eyes, and poor. Not much good in Paris."

Lois turned her chair to face Chantal. "How long were you married?"

"Four years by the time the divorce came through."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not. That's my point, Lois. Powerful men are more interesting and more
useful." She laughed lightly, her eyes lighting up. Gesturing with her
right hand, she glanced at Lois's screen. "Good example, right there."

"Victoria Gates?"

"No, her husband. He can open doors for you. And he knows how to spend his
money." Chantal sighed, "He has such good taste."

Lois's interest was captured now. "I didn't know you knew him that well."

"I don't now, but while I worked in Paris, we saw a lot of each other."

"What about Victoria?"

"She was rarely with him when he was in Paris. He leads quite a separate
life from hers, in spite of those charming 'wife and family' magazine
spreads you see every once in a while."

"Why was he in Paris so often, do you remember?"

Chantal's eyes sparkled with good humor, "Well, I'd like to think it was
me, but it wasn't always. A few times we had dinner with business contacts
from Europe and the Middle East."

"Do you remember any names?"

Chantal mentioned a couple of names which were unfamiliar to Lois, but then
she mentioned the name of an old European family important in the
production of weapons in the second world war. Like Gates' family business
at that time too, she recalled. Nothing unusual with that given the times,
and besides, it was another generation who ran the business in those days.
Then Lois thought of the general who had called yesterday morning at the
Gates' suite in the Lexor Hotel and wondered.

"Know anything about his business interests, Chantal?"

"No. I wasn't that kind of confidante. I was interested in how he spent his
money, not how he got it. I presume he's divested himself of much of it,
now that he's so involved in politics." Chantal slid gracefully off Lois's
desk. "Time to get started. Have to write a column on the arrangements for
Murdoch's upcoming party."

"You lead a rough life, Chantal."

Chantal shrugged her shoulders delicately, gave a mock sigh, and sauntered
away.

Yes! Lois thought, as she turned to finish her article, follow the money.

****
Just before dawn that morning, Gwen Reed's old Ford had veered off a back
road not far from the main highway that would have taken her back to
Metropolis. She had died instantly. Clark learned this when he asked to
talk to talk to her at M.F.D. Labs but found himself talking to Fred
Kowalski, the head of the labs, instead. It had always been her habit to
stay overnight when consulting out of town and then to leave very early the
next morning, claiming that this routine gave her a chance at a mini
holiday with the added benefit of no traffic to fight on her trip back.
Kowalski said that the police figured she must have dozed off at the wheel,
but there were no witnesses. Not much traffic at that time of time of day.

Clark felt sick. He thought of the energetic woman with whom he had talked
just a few days before, wondering, as he often did, what would have
happened if he had done a tour outside the expanse of Metropolis and its
suburbs last night. Last night, in his sleeplessness, he had flown over
just about every inch of the city lending his assistance in minor
accidents, robberies, and street fights that he would ordinarily have left
for the authorities. He had helped three clearly delusional homeless men
find shelter for the night, dissuaded two drunks from driving, and rescued
one underage prostitute from the violent attention of a brutal man twice
her age. The girl had sworn at Superman, angry at losing money.

Towards dawn, he had made one last tour but he had not left the city. Now,
he felt like he had not done enough. He asked her boss a few questions
before he left, but Kowalski had few answers. He did not know the name of
the man with whom Gwen had gone; he had been away from the labs at that
time. It wasn't unusual, however, for her to be called out of town on a
quick consultation. She had quite a solid reputation in her field of work.

"Did she submit her report on Metro Paint Corp. to you before she left?"
Clark asked as he sat down across from Fred Kowalski at his work station.

"Yes, but I didn't get a chance to read it until much later.  It was pretty
straight forward, so I read it quickly and let the Chief know that I
approved it before he released it officially."

"The fire was accidental?" Clark watched Kolwalski's face as he answered.

"You've seen the report then. Yeah, it appears to have been."

"Did Ms. Reed talk to you at all before she wrote it?"

"Not much. I was busy on something else, and I didn't get a chance to read
her report until after she left. It's odd you know. I was talking to her
briefly on the phone yesterday, and she asked me about the report. When I
said it looked routine she asked me to send her a copy, which I did."

"Did she say why she wanted the copy?"

"No. She did sound upset and so I wondered."

"Would you have seen the report before it was sent to anyone else?"

"That used to be the way it was done. But now a copy also goes to the Chief
at the same time I get mine. It's more efficient."

"Ms. Reed mentioned to Superman that she had found traces of a mineral she
couldn't identify at the site of the fire. Did she mention that to you at
all?"

"Funny you should ask. There was no mention of it in her report, but she'd
left a note asking me to take a look at the sample before she left on
assignment, but I didn't get to it. She asked about it again yesterday.
That's the first thing I planned to do this morning, but when I looked for
the container at her work station, it wasn't there. I have no idea where it
is. And now of course, it doesn't seem to matter much," he said sadly.

"I'm sorry," Clark said. There was nothing else he could say.


*****
Clark shoved his hands deep into his pockets and walked slowly back towards
the Planet, trying to figure out what to do next. Everything seemed to have
come to a dead end. He needed to talk this over with Lois. God, he needed
to talk about more than this with Lois. Everything had been so great. It
had seemed like everything that he had ever wanted was going to happen, and
now none of it was. What had happened? How could he have been so wrong
about her feelings for him? She had made it clear in Legatteville that she
loved him and then on Saturday night he would have sworn that there was a
union between them that transcended the physical,although the physical had
been phenomenal.

In his mind, he went over his proposal to her in the park yesterday. He
hadn't intended to propose; he had just blurted it out. What a fool he'd
been. He saw her face again as she had refused him. Was she almost crying?
Why? "I can't." Her words dug into his soul. Not "No." Why couldn't she? He
needed to know that. He couldn't get past that, couldn't concentrate on
this problem before him. A man was missing, a woman was dead, and he
couldn't think his way out of the darkness that gripped him. What had he
said to her? "Who's next, Lois?" His pain had escaped in the bitterness of
those words and, as soon as he said it, he knew he had hurt her. He'd been
numb as he watched her walk away.

He was still numb. Superman was no help. He had searched for Roy McAndrew
and failed. He'd missed Gwen Reed's car speeding off the road. He couldn't
fix things between him and Lois either. It was a good thing he hadn't told
her, he thought. The news would have made things even worse. Maybe Superman
*was* the answer. Maybe he should just swoop down, grab her, and carry her
off to some remote mountain top until they had sorted everything out. Then
they could get back to normal. Where did that thought come from? Some
atavistic throw back to a genetic past he knew nothing about? His thoughts
were erratic, jumping back and forth between the cover up of the fire's
causes and Lois Lane.

Clark shook his head, trying to clear his mind, and decided to head over to
Star Labs to see if the bit of plastic he had left was of any significance.
When he got there he found that it just might be. It had been analyzed by a
Dr. Klein, whom Clark had never met before. There had been a time when he'd
been distrustful of Star Labs, suspicious of its connection with Lex
Luthor. As far as Clark knew, Klein was new, and Clark listened with
interest as the scientist circuitously explained what he'd found. He was
clearly fascinated with the small bit of dark colored plastic and he let
Clark know all the details.

"Mr. Kent, this is the most amazing material." His blue eyes excited, he
held the plastic bag containing the fragment up and waved it in front of
Clark. "I've never seen anything like it. Where exactly did you get it?"
Not pausing for an answer, he rushed on. "Do you know, it's practically
fireproof, that it's resistant to high doses of radioactivity? No of course
you don't. How would you? There're no references in the journals to
anything like it, so it must be top secret, something the government's
working on."

"What do you think it might be used for, Dr. Klein?"

"Good question. It would make a good casing for some types of weaponry. My
first thought was mines, but this product would retard their explosive
capability. The curve of this fragment suggests a gun barrel."

Clark smiled at the scientist. "I'll hang on to it, Dr. Klein, if you don't
mind." Then, remembering Gwen Reed, he added, "Can you do me a favor and
keep this analysis quiet for a few days. I'm not sure where this has come
from but I'd like a chance to find out."

After he left the labs, Clark stopped by Metropolis General to contact an
old college friend who was doing a residency there. He felt his spirits
lifting as he watched his friend walk down the hall, his hospital greens
ill fitting and wrinkled on his tall, gangly body.

"Clark! Great to see you! Haven't got much time, but how can I help you?"

"Can you find some information for me, Pete? I'm trying to find out about a
Hilfegger Clinic. I think it's been out of business for about five years
until just recently. Hilfegger was apparently involved in some kind of
fraud. I've tried tracking it down myself, but nothing. I thought maybe the
grapevine around here might help."

"Sure, I'll try. Listen, you guys still shooting hoops Thursdays?"

"Yeah. Like to join us?"

"Yeah. I need the work out. Can't be sure I'll always make it, but if you
can put up with that, I'd appreciate it."

"None of us makes it all the time. But we always manage a game, just change
the rules to fit the numbers." Clark grinned at his friend. "It'll be good
to have you there, Pete."

"You've forgotten that I'm a better shot than you." Pete laughed as he
turned to walk back down the corridor.

*****
Lois spent the rest of the morning searching the Internet and the Planet's
morgue for a financial history of Tony Gates. Some of this she'd read
before in her exhaustive data search on the Senator after she'd returned
from Legatteville. Chantal had been right; he had divested himself of all
equity investments at the time when he had first run for public office. Not
even an arms length trust fund existed. Nor did Victoria Gates have any
sizable equity holdings. According to the manifest which the family had
made public, their wealth was invested in several private homes and bonds.
The family business was still a private company, small by current
standards, and now controlled by a cousin.

Every once in awhile she looked over at Clark's empty desk, half hoping and
half afraid he would show up. She wasn't sure what she would say to him if
he did, but they could not continue with this morning's elaborate avoidance
ritual. She didn't get the chance to find out, however, because she and
Jimmy had to go across town to cover a reception at the Lexor for the G7
Foreign Affairs Ministers who were holding major talks on the environment
tomorrow. Superman was to be there to add publicity to the importance of
the cause. Lois had forgotten about this reception; she had been slated to
cover it earlier, but it had slipped her mind because she had regarded it
as routine. Now, she tried to get out of it.

"Perry, I think this would be a good opportunity for one of the new guys to
get experience on a big story. Maybe Anisha."

Surprised, Perry turned from his computer screen to looked at her. This
would be front page copy and Lois Lane never gave up the front page. "You
feelin' okay darlin'?"

"I'm fine, Chief. But I'm busy on something else and this'll be a staged,
routine event. The pictures will be more important."

"That's why you're going to cover it. It needs good copy."

"Then Chantal would be good. She's the one to write the human interest,
gossip stuff that I'm lousy at." Lois was pleased with this suggestion
because it was the truth.

"No. Everyone reads her stuff and knows she's our society reporter.
Chantal's good, but I don't want it to look like the Planet thinks so
little of this meeting that it sends its gossip columnist to cover it."

Lois's next suggestion was perverse. "What about Clark? He has all that
international experience."

Perry's response was a drawl of light sarcasm. "Darlin', in case y'all
haven't noticed, Clark is not here." Then, with a tone of exaggerated
patience that let Lois know that he meant business, he rose from his chair
and said, "Now. You and Jimmy at the Lexor. And tell the kid to bring me a
great shot of Superman with the VIP's."

Lois abandoned all hope, opened the door to Perry's office a bit too
aggressively, and marched to her desk. Ha, she thought, a great shot of
Superman! Why not just have him write the story? It would be so much more
efficient.

They got there just as the dignitaries were entering the reception area.
Jimmy snapped several quick shots of the diplomats, carefully dressed in
casual green sweatshirts with the conference's logo, as they entered the
large green carpeted room. Large potted palms gave the room a tropical
feeling, in keeping with the purpose of the conference. Slipping
unobtrusively to the front of the media crew, Lois flashed her pass and
took up a position by a large pillar toward the back of the room, watching.
She noticed that among the invited V.I.P.'s were the leading politicians of
Metropolis and New Troy, including Senator Gates and two of his aides. The
environment was obviously *the* trendy issue of the day. Jimmy circulated
energetically, getting as many candid shots as possible. Then he stilled as
the chairperson of the conference approached the mike to call on Superman
to address the crowd.

This was the first time that Lois had seen Clark in the suit since 
discovering his secret. She watched him intently as he spoke, looking for 
some sign that this was Clark. It was hard to see. Superman spoke briefly 
and sincerely, clearly concerned with the environmental issues to be 
discussed over the next week in Metropolis, but his speech lacked the humor 
that Clark would have added and therefore, the passion. It dawned on her 
that if Clark was always controlling his extraordinary physical powers, 
Superman was hiding the compassion and joy that was Clark. I keep going 
in circles, she thought as she watched him. Maybe the truth was that, 
whoever he was, he was more than the sum of his parts. She lowered her 
head for a moment as if trying to put the pieces together and then raised 
her eyes again, surprised to meet his, gazing at her from across the 
distance of the room. 

Clark had been searching the room as he spoke, knowing that Lois was there.
Ordinarily, she would have been in the front row, waiting for her first
opportunity to ask a question. It was with surprise that he spotted her, a
dark haired slender beacon, at the back of the room, as though she were
uninvolved in the proceedings around her. Why, he wondered. He saw her
lower her head for a moment as he finished his short speech, and he kept
his eyes on her, not really aware of the Chair's thank you speech. She
lifted her eyes and, for a moment, they connected, and then she turned
away, walking to an empty chair not too far from where she had been
standing.

Superman's speech was followed by a brief comment from the American
delegate, as host, welcoming his fellow statesmen. Then the formal part of
the reception ended and the delegates mingled with the media, foreplay in a
symbiotic relationship. Lois got a couple of quick comments from both the
Canadian and the Japanese delegates and then decided to leave. Looking
around the room for Jimmy, she spotted Steven Patel, one of the Senator's
aides and a former reporter for LNN. He was cutting through the crowd
toward Superman, Senator Gates not far behind. She walked toward them,
realizing that they were trying to set up a photo op involving both the
Senator and Superman, implying the superhero's support for the Senator.
Engaged in a conversation with a few members of the youth delegation to the
conference, Superman had not noticed this manoeuvre. There was no way Patel
was going to do that, Lois thought. Walking more rapidly, she interposed
herself between the Senator and Superman.

"Senator Gates! How good to see you again." She reached out her hand to
shake his, and then proceeded to gush, moving a little closer, forcing him
to step farther back as he instinctively reacted to restore "normal" space
between the two of them. "I must tell you how well my interview with your
wife went. She certainly is an extraordinary woman." Patel glared at Lois
and then tried to get Superman's attention, but he was too late; Superman
was striding rapidly across the room toward the balcony doors. Lois smiled.

****
Early that evening, Lois called her sister. "Lucy, I need your help with
something I'm working on." Quickly, she described her futile search into
Gates' financial background.

"Maybe there's nothing there, Lois. Gates is a pretty great guy. After all,
I thought you voted for him."

"I did. But I think now there's something that he's covering up. He appears
to have divested himself properly, but I'm wondering. Is there any way he
could still hang onto his investments and not have it show as a matter of
record?"

"Sure. Swiss bank accounts, off shore companies, holding companies,
arms-length trusts. Lots of ways. But you have to give me some idea where
to start."

Lois filled her in on what she knew and what she half suspected, given his
European contacts. "There's no rush on this, Luce. I know you're still in
exams. The Senator's not going away."

"That's okay. I've got one exam left, and then I'll get on it. You seeing
Clark tonight?"

"No." Lois was terse.

"Had a fight, did you? I thought you were awfully strange at dinner last
night. Lois, you know that guy's the right one for you."

"I can't believe you're saying that, Lucy. I thought you didn't believe in
the Mr. Right thing. What happened to the guy of the month approach?"

Lucy laughed. "Nothing. But what's right for me isn't right for you."

"So all of a sudden, you're giving me advice, little sister?"

"Scary, isn't it."

After they'd finished talking, Lois tried to settle down to work on her
novel, but she couldn't concentrate. Maybe, Lucy's approach with men was
right. Forget Clark. Roaming restlessly around her apartment, looking for
something to interest her, she spotted a book which held her interest for
about ten minutes. What was Clark thinking about proposing like that? She
picked up the remote control. God, there was nothing on T.V. Where did he
get off sulking like that? He was the one who was not being completely
honest. Maybe she should reorganize her tax records. Rising from the sofa
once again, she walked across the room to the dark mahogany desk which was
placed against the wall by the door. This time, her attention was
distracted by a picture of Clark and her, taken in the newsroom. She picked
up the picture, looking at it unhappily.

Clark wasn't doing much better. His apartment seemed empty and sterile,
holding nothing of interest for him. He flung himself on his sofa and gave
in to a few moments of self pity, feeling abandoned, rejected by the only
woman he would ever love. Snap out of it, Kent. Do something. In a blur, he
was out the front door, leaping into the cool night air, flying across the
dark Metropolis night, searching, and then swooping like a hawk down to
street level whenever he saw someone who needed his help. Usually this made
him feel good; tonight he felt like it was a hollow substitute for a real
life. He couldn't get Lois out of his mind; the wrenching pain stayed.
Somehow, without thinking about it, he found himself landing in an
unlighted, litter strewn alley behind Lois's apartment building. Okay, he
thought, I have to talk to her. Leaving the alley, he walked toward her
building just as she was coming down its steps.

"Clark!"

"We have to talk." They both spoke at once, and then stopped, looking at
each other in wary expectation.

Lois let out a deep breath. "Let's walk for awhile." She shrugged her
shoulders, "I can't seem to sit still tonight."

"Me, neither."

They walked along the half empty street in silence, not touching. Finally,
Clark spoke. "Lois, I'm sorry for what I said in the park last night about
Superman, and Luthor. It was wrong." He paused, waiting for a response.
When there was none, he continued. "I guess things have been happening too
fast between us. It's just that I have been in love with you since the day
we met, and I guess, once you told me that you loved me, I. . ." He didn't
finish but shifted his thought. "Anyway, I wanted to say that I know I've
kinda rushed things." Clark stopped speaking, turning to look at her.

Lois slipped her arm through his, touching her head against his shoulder
for just a second and then raised her eyes to meet his. "I do love you,
Clark. But marriage. It's such a big step. There has to be so much trust
between two people and there has to be honesty; no commitment can last
without those two things. I haven't seen very many successful marriages.
Look at my parents. It seems to me, marriage starts with promises and ends
with lies."

"Lois, that's way too cynical. Think about my parents' marriage."

"Clark, that's Kansas. It's not the same thing."

"Sure it is. And remember, I'm my parents' son." He said this as though he
had just produced the Ace of Spades.

"So no lies then, farmboy?" Her voice was light.

His voice turned serious. "No lies, Lois. No lies." They had turned a
corner, onto a quiet side street, dominated by an old brick church set in a
small patch of green and flanked by a few large maple trees. He gestured
towards it. "Let's stop here for a moment." He unlatched the wrought iron
gate and led her along a narrow slate path past the open doors of the
church to a secluded stone bench leaning against its south wall. They could
hear the faint chant of nine o'clock mass coming from inside the church as
they sat and faced each other.

Clark took a deep breath and touched her cheek. "Lois, look at me. Look at
me carefully." He stopped for a moment, his dark eyes holding hers in a
silent plea for understanding as he continued, his voice softly deliberate.
"You told me once that you would love me if I were an ordinary man, with an
ordinary job. I wanted so desperately to believe you that night, but I
couldn't."

With a sigh of relief, Lois put her hand against his cheek, and then
touched his glasses. Her smile made him catch his breath. "But you believe
it now," she whispered softly.

"You know." His voice betrayed his astonishment.

Lois looked at him, her smile now a smaller one of triumph. "Of course I
know, Clark Kent."

"How long? When?" His voice was tight, upset.

"How long have I known? Not long. Since Legatteville. The night of the
accident. When you stopped Matt's car."

Clark shook his head, relief in his voice. "So you didn't know on Saturday
night, then, when we were at the hotel."

"No, I didn't," she sounded puzzled. "Why does that matter, Clark?"

"Lois, I need to know that you love me, not Superman. That Saturday night,
you made it pretty clear how you felt." He stopped speaking and took her
hand in his. "I needed to know that, Lois. Superman doesn't exist, he's
just one thing I do." He smiled, "You know, a guy in a flashy uniform who
does tricks."

A brief startled gurgle of laughter rose in Lois's throat. "I think he's a
bit more than that, Clark," she defended her hero.

"I thought you'd be mad when you found out."

"I was, at first. At you, at me for being so incredibly blind that I
couldn't see what had been in front of me for two years. The clues I
missed! But mostly, I was hurt." Now she was serious, reflective.

"And that's gotta be worse than mad." The soft huskiness of his voice
betrayed his concern.

Lois straightened her shoulders and withdrew her hand from his. "I trusted
you, Clark, more that I've ever trusted anyone in my life. There was
nothing I didn't trust you with. I trusted you with my friendship and my
love and I trusted Superman with my loyalty. And then, I realized that you
didn't trust me. And it hurt." Her voice was rising and he knew that some
of that hurt was still there.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew?"

Lois's brief smile was ironic and she shrugged her shoulders as she looked
at him. "I needed for *you* to tell me. I needed to know that there would
be no secrets between us."

"Kal El," he said quietly, "My name is Kal El, and I come from the planet
Krypton. I didn't know that until last year when we found the small ship in
that government warehouse. I took a globe, which I still have, from the
ship." He told her everything that the globe had transmitted while she
listened in astonishment.

"There's one more thing," he added. "I'm in love with Lois Lane." His hand
moved to the side of her face, his thumb caressing the smoothness of her
skin.

Lois covered his hand with hers, and brought it to her lap, toying
absentmindedly with his fingers. "You must have felt so alone, Clark,
always being so careful."

"A lot of the time, but I always had my parents, Lois, and I had you."

Lois's shoulders relaxed as she leaned back against the dark brick wall of
the church again and looked up at the starry sky. "Which one was Krypton,
do you think?"

"I'm not sure. I've tried to figure it out based on what the globe said."
He raised his right arm and pointed towards Saturn. "In a galaxy beyond
there, I think. At least, it would have been."

"Kal El," she repeated his name softly.

"Clark, Lois. I know who I am. I am Martha and Jonathan Kent's son. What's
in my soul is what they gave to me, and now, what you've given to me."

She lowered her head so that it was resting against his shoulder. "I love
you, Clark Kent."

"So does that mean you'll marry me?"

"No."

"What?"

"Clark, marriage is a scary thing, not something you rush into. I need to
really know *you*. You, Kal El. Not Clark, not Superman. I know what you
just said, but there are so many things that have happened with us that 
I realize now were not what I thought, so many things about you, both of 
*you*." She traced an "S" on his chest as she finished.

"Lois, it's not that complicated. You know me better than anyone ever has.
And I know you. We love each other. We're great together. We belong
together."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I am." There was no doubt in his voice.

Lois stood up and pulled him to his feet. She placed her hand on his chest
and gently kissed his check. "I need to be that sure too, Clark."

"Okay," his voice was low, husky. "I'll wait for you, Lois. I'll wait for
you as long as you need."

Her arms slid around his neck and she kissed him, moving closer into the
strength of his body as he moved his lips over hers, taking possession of
her. After a long moment, she pulled back and said, her voice breathless,
"And now I think, maybe, you could walk me home."

Clark's lips drifted to the side of her cheek, "Okay, I can do that."

"Our feet have to touch the ground first, Clark."

"Oh. . . Oh. Sorry." He lowered them down the foot that they had drifted
into the air.

As they walked out of the church grounds, Lois asked casually, "Does that
happen often?"

"No, hardly ever. Sometimes, I think it's emotional, you know." His tone
was conversational, as though the experience were ordinary.

"Ah," Lois said as she latched the heavy gate behind her, and they walked
out into the dark street. She slid her arm through his as they strolled
back to her apartment. "Clark, I guess I understand why you didn't tell me
before, but why didn't you tell once you knew how I felt?"

Clark's laugh was self deprecatory and he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't
know. Sometimes, I think I've made every mistake possible courting you, Ms.
Lane."

Lois giggled. "Courting! Is that what you've been doing?"

"See. What'd I tell you."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"I've nearly told you several times, but something always seemed to
interrupt me. Then as we got closer, it got more difficult somehow. After
that I started to worry about how you'd react."

"You know, Clark, you can get pretty obsessive sometimes."

He turned to look at her, his eyes wide with surprise. "Me?"

Lois rolled her eyes. "But why not tell me in Legatteville?"

Clark slid his arm over her shoulder. "I figured we needed to be alone when
I told you. I thought it would be awkward with your aunt and uncle around."

"When I blew up, you mean?"

He turned to look at her, the sudden flash of his grin lighting his eyes.
"That's right. And then when we got back to town there didn't seem to be
any time. I was going to tell you Saturday night. I had it all planned.
Every detail. Roses, chocolate, and then the truth," he finished his
comment with a flourish.

"Chocolate?"

"I still have it. Want to come back to my place? I can get us there real
quick."

"Clark, be serious."

"I am," he pulled her closer beside him as they walked. "Very serious."

Lois's tone sobered. "I know you are, Clark. But I don't think it would be
a good idea if we went back to either of our places right now."

"Isn't making love part of getting to know each other better too? Sunday
morning, there were so many things we should have talked about."

Lois lowered her head slightly, raising her hand to touch the one he had on
her shoulder. "I know. But Clark, I wasn't thinking straight when we made
love. I don't want that clouding the issue."

"It's part of the issue, Lois." His voice was low, intense as he spoke.
"This isn't all about logic, it's about emotion too, how we feel about each
other. Saturday night, what happened between us, was incredible. For me, it
was the final truth and everything I felt for you intensified."

Lois stopped walking for a moment and turned to look at him, at the passion
in his dark eyes. "Clark, don't you see, I am so much in love with you that
I'm in danger of losing myself in you. I'm afraid of that."

He bent his head so that he could kiss her lightly. "Don't be afraid, Lois.
I lost myself to you a longtime ago, sometimes I think before we even met.
All I know is that you are the only woman I will ever love. If I lose you,
I lose everything." His voice was shaky as he finished.

Lois looked at him in wonder for a moment, then bent her head to touch his
shoulder before starting to walk again. "But I do need time, Clark."

"I know, and I will wait for you, Lois."

"But could you bring the chocolate to work tomorrow?"

*****
Early Thursday morn