"FULL CIRCLE: A NEW DAY" (TUFS #24)

By Jeff Brogdan, Craig Byrne, Genevieve Clemens, Matt Combes, 
   Beth Freeman, Sheila Harper, Pam Jernigan, Julie Mack, Pat 
   Peabody, Kat Picson, Matt Schiller, and Beth Washington.

Edited by Genevieve Clemens
-----------------------------------------------------------------

     The first day of summer came to Metropolis with a heat 
wave.  It had been a cool and wet spring, but yesterday, a mass 
of warm, humid air had blown in from the south, and the evidence 
that summer had begun was incontrovertible.  Children, only 
recently released from the tyranny of school, frolicked in the 
city streets, cheering as they succeeded in popping a plug off a 
fire hydrant.  As the cool water gushed out, their faces lit up, 
as they rushed into the spray, splashing and laughing.
     In the small parks scattered around Metropolis, birds sang 
in the trees and the pigeons were everywhere, begging for crumbs.  
The daffodils and tulips had come and gone; now rose bushes were 
blooming in the gardens and along the fences, their sweet scent 
filling the air.  As noon approached, office workers were 
emerging like ants from the tall city buildings, carrying their 
lunches into the parks.  They sat on the grass under the large 
shade trees, their sports coats lying on the ground beside them, 
eating and relaxing for an hour before returning to their 
sterile, air-conditioned, controlled environments to work the 
afternoon away.
     As the sidewalks of Metropolis bustled in the noontime 
rush, a family stood off to one side, trying to stay out of the 
way of the bustling city-folk.  They were obviously tourists and 
they were obviously lost.  The mother and father were consulting 
a guidebook and a map, while the children stood gazing hopefully 
into the sky.  Metropolis had many museums, historical sites, and 
stores to draw tourists, but each visitor always hoped to catch a 
glimpse of Metropolis' most famous citizen.  He had no fixed 
address, and no one ever knew where or when he'd appear, but 
everyone wanted to see the flying man in the red cape.
     A man stopped next to the family, smiling.  "Do you folks 
need any help?" he asked in a friendly fashion.  The parents 
looked up.  They'd been rather put off by the self-centeredness 
of most Metropolis natives, but this man seemed downright 
neighborly.  He was tall, with dark hair and glasses.  He was 
wearing a suit, which clearly marked him as a city-dweller and, 
in spite of the noontime heat, appeared as cool as a cucumber.
     "We're looking for the Metropolis Museum of Art," the woman 
responded.  She was not looking cool right now, but rather hot, 
sweaty, and tired.  "We seem to have gotten turned around 
somehow."
     "Good choice -- it's air-conditioned and only a few blocks 
away."  The man pointed down the street and gave directions.  
When he finished, he asked, conversationally, "Where are you guys 
from?"
     "Iowa," the father answered.  "A small farming town.  We 
wanted to take the kids to the city this summer."
     "I'm from Kansas myself," the city man answered, "although 
I've lived in Metropolis the last five years."
     "Please, sir," the little boy, who appeared to be around 
eight, finally found the courage to speak.  "Have you ever seen 
*Superman*?"
     "A few times," the man answered with a broad smile.
     "He is the greatest!" the boy's sister exclaimed.  She was 
older, probably around ten.  "Absolutely the greatest.  I'd give 
anything to see him!  And I'd just *die* if he actually looked at 
me!"
     "Well, just keep looking up," the man answered.  "You'll 
probably see him sooner or later.  Metropolis is his home."  He 
nodded farewell, and they watched him cross the street, entering 
a building that was world famous.  The large globe over the 
doorway was unmistakable; it was the building that housed the 
offices of one of the greatest newspapers in the world: the Daily 
Planet.

* * * * * * * * * *

     Clark Kent stepped off the elevator into the busy newsroom 
of the Daily Planet.  In all the years he'd been coming into this 
office, he always looked for one thing first.  His eyes had 
always been drawn, irresistibly, toward the desk of Lois Lane.  
The first few years he'd been able to observe her unnoticed as he 
had walked down the ramp, as she would be engrossed in her work, 
typing furiously away, or speaking vivaciously on the telephone, 
hardly noticing the people around her.  The last few years, 
however, his quick glance toward her desk had been greeted with a 
more joyful sight.  She seemed to have a sixth sense that knew 
when he was coming, and now, as he glanced toward her desk, he 
was greeted by a welcoming smile from this woman -- his wife, 
Lois Lane.
     Smiling back, he made his way to her desk through the maze 
of messengers, reporters, and mail carriers.  Her chair was 
pushed back slightly; now that she was nine months pregnant her 
lap no longer fit under her desk.  She was wearing the same dress 
she'd worn two days ago; most of the maternity clothes she'd 
bought five months ago were too small now, and of the three that 
still fit, one had been declared "too hot."  She had been 
updating her Rolodex, but she looked up when he approached.
     "Hi," she said in greeting.  "I'm almost done here, and 
then I'm going to go home.  I wanted to make sure all these 
contacts were up-to-date, in case you need them while I'm on 
leave."
     Clark nodded.  "When you get home, try to get some sleep," 
he suggested.  "I know you didn't sleep well last night."
     "It was *so* hot," Lois complained.  "But I can't sleep 
this afternoon, Clark.  I have to get the guestroom ready for 
your parents.  Are we picking them up at the airport tonight?"
     Clark shook his head.  "Mom was adamant about that, honey.  
I think she feels bad enough that we bought the plane tickets; 
she insisted that they'd take a taxi.  I'm glad they agreed to 
come, though.  We'll need the help, and without a crop in the 
ground this summer, Dad's feeling pretty useless on the farm."  A 
thought struck him, and he asked.  "Do they know the real due 
date?"
     Lois nodded.  From the beginning she'd been vague about the 
due date, telling people the baby would come "sometime in the 
summer."  As the weeks had gone by, Lois had had less and less 
patience with the complete strangers who asked her when the baby 
was due or, worse yet, the belly-patters.  She had answered 
politely enough, saying that the "due date wasn't for weeks yet."  
She'd found that that effectively cut off the conversation, and 
only Lois, Clark, and the doctors knew it was an out-and-out lie.  
The fact that the actual "due date" had come and gone four days 
ago was the Kent family's second biggest secret.
     In spite of Lois's desire for privacy, however, it seemed 
that nothing stopped people from speculating about a pregnant 
woman.  The office baby pool was a secret, and if her colleagues 
were wise, Lois would probably never find out about it.  Not all 
her co-workers were that clever, however.  Yesterday morning, 
Ralph Claremont, a fellow reporter, had come up to her and 
casually remarked that she "looked ready to pop."  What followed 
was vintage Lois Lane, as Lois lost her temper and made comments 
about Ralph's upbringing, a person's right to privacy, and ended 
her tirade by suggesting that commenting on a woman's pregnancy 
should be covered by the sexual harassment laws.  When she was 
finished, Ralph had slunk back to his desk, new reporters who had 
never seen the classic Lois Lane were staring in amazement, and 
Clark was smiling proudly at his irascible wife.

     Perry White looked out of his office window at Clark and 
Lois.  They made such a heart-warming couple; it was enough to 
make him long for the family and love he'd lost when his wife had 
left him two years ago.  He and Alice were in counseling these 
days, trying to see if there was any way they could work things 
out.  
     Perry left his office and approached Lois's desk.  "Clark, 
you're back.  How was the press conference?"
     "Boring," Clark answered.  "Nothing we haven't heard a 
thousand times before.  MaxCorp's new plant will solve all of 
Metropolis's problems from unemployment to the poor school 
system."
     "Oh, well, that's fine," Perry answered.  "And I'm, uh, I'm 
sure a great reporter like you will have no trouble writing it up 
so that it's a fascinating, riveting, must-read article for the 
Daily Planet."  
     "Sure, Chief, no problem."
     "And I'm sure you'll have it on my desk by two this 
afternoon."
     "Absolutely," Clark said confidently.
     Perry turned to Lois.  "And you -- are you done updating 
your files before you go on leave?"
     "Almost done, Perry."  Lois sounded quite cheerful.
     "Well, do you think you could get it finished before you 
leave in, what?"  He glanced at the clock.  "About twenty 
minutes?"  He gave the two of them a stern glance.  "C'mon you 
two.  This is a newspaper, not a coffee house."  He grinned at 
them and walked away.  He knew Lois and Clark would deliver -- 
they always did.  But he had a reputation to uphold, and not all 
the reporters at the Planet were as trustworthy and hard working 
as they were.
     Lois glowered at Perry's back as he walked away.  "Hasn't 
he ever heard of lunch?" she muttered.
     Clark grinned.  "Want a cup of coffee?" he asked.  "I'm 
going to get one."
     "Thanks,"  Lois answered.  "Decaf."  
     Clark walked away in the direction of the coffeepot.  Lois 
barely had a chance to sit down at her desk when a familiar face 
burst from the elevator.  With her black curls racing around her 
head in a reflection of the energy contained within, Star hurried 
down the ramp, her feet clicking quickly with each step.  Lois 
smiled, hoping that Star would never change.
     "Oh, Lois, you're here," Star blurted as she rounded the 
corner of Lois' desk.  "I'm so glad your here.  I hate it when 
you go somewhere to see someone and they're not there, like the 
time I told my sister I was flying into Boston and when I got to 
the airport, she wasn't there, and I had to take a taxi to her 
house, and when I got there, she wasn't.  Can you believe the 
..."
     "Star!  It's good to see you too," interrupted Lois.
     Clark walked up with two cups of coffee.  "Hi, Star," he 
greeted with a smile.  He handed one of the cups to Lois.
     "Oh good, you're both here.  I had a feeling you would both 
be here, but then I had a feeling that you," she directed her 
comments toward Lois, "wouldn't be here in the near future, and 
that I should bring you this."  She handed Lois a gift bag.
     Lois took the gift bag and turned it around, looking at 
both sides.  One side had a baby laughing on it, and the other 
had it crying.
     "Open it," Star urged.
     Lois looked at Clark, and she could tell he was just as 
curious as she was.  She opened the bag and pulled out a small 
baby sleeper, and a receiving blanket.  Both items were blue, 
with little farm animals quietly sleeping pictured all over them 
both.
     "Star, how did you know?  The last time we saw you, you 
were still recovering from ... you know."  Clark inquired, 
reaching for the sleeper to feel its softness.
     "I know, I know, don't reminder me," Star shook her head.  
"I still get this slimy feeling when I think about that ... man 
... using my body to kill people.  But that's not why I came.  
I've been seeing this master psychic to help me out with my 
abilities.  She's been teaching me on how to focus on what I see 
so I can get a better picture.  I can even get a clear picture 
from someone who's brain is broadcasting like a television full 
of static --"
     Lois eyes took on a look of worry.
     "like yours, Lois.  Anyway, the other day I got this 
feeling that you were really getting fat, and I couldn't believe 
it since I know my good friend, Lois Lane, would never let her 
figure get out of control like that, being a high class reporter 
and all, not to mention she's married to Mr. G.Q.   So I 
concentrated and felt that you weren't fat in the conventional 
sense, but in the pregnant sense, and that you didn't have long 
to go, so I rushed over."  Star stopped and looked at the two 
reporters.  Both looked stunned.
     "Well, " she started rather sheepishly, "I did say I was 
going to get this thing fixed," She gently knocked on her head 
with a loose fist.  "And it looks like it's working."
     Lois patted her abdomen and agreed, "I guess it is."
     Clark added, "But why did you buy a little boy's outfit?  
We don't even know if it's a boy or a girl yet."
     Star shrugged.  "Just a feeling, but I also like blue, and 
I don't think that you would be conventional parents and dress 
your child according to the norm.  I mean, I figured you would 
dress a little girl in both pink and blue, or a little boy in 
either as well."  She glanced up at Clark.  "I mean, Clark looks 
good in pink, why wouldn't any son of his?  We're all brought up 
thinking that boys wear blue, girls wear pink, but well, I didn't 
think you two were going to follow the norm.  I mean, I get this 
feeling that they're..."
     "Star," Clark interrupted this time.
     "Sorry," Star said, stopping her diatribe instantly.  
"Well, I don't have time to hang around.  I hope you like it, and 
that you'll let me come by and see the baby sometime."
     "We love the gift, Star, and you are more than welcome to 
stop by our place to see the baby after it ... after *he* is 
born," Lois answered, rubbing the soft, blue, flannel blanket 
against her cheek.
     "Thank you, Star," added Clark.  "I'm sure the baby will 
sleep soundly with these."
     "You're welcome."  Star was beaming.  "Well, I gotta run.  
I have an appointment with the master psychic, and she doesn't 
like it when I'm late.  She always knows when I'm going to be 
late, which gives her a lot time to stew over it before I get 
there.  She's tough."  She started to walk away, up the ramp, 
back towards the elevators.
     "Bye Star, and thanks again!" yelled Lois after her.
     Both reporters could see her waving vigorously as the door 
to the elevator closed.
     Lois put the blanket back in the gift bag.  "She never 
changes, does she?  It's exhausting just listening to her 
sometimes."
     "It sure is," Clark agreed.  "We'd better get to work," he 
added.  "Right after a quick trip down the ..." he gestured down 
the hall.
     "Men's room?" Lois suggested.
     "Men's room," Clark agreed.  Leaning closer to her, and 
dropping his voice, he whispered, "and a quick fly-by the 
Metropolis Museum of Art."
     "Why, what's happening at the museum?"
     "Absolutely nothing," he answered as he disappeared down 
the hall.
     Lois shook her head, looking after him.  "You are so weird 
sometimes, Clark.  Works for you though," she murmured, baffled.  
She shook her head in puzzlement before returning to her work.

* * * * * * * * * *

     Much later that afternoon, as her eyelids grew heavy, Lois 
settled back into the sofa.  She rubbed her back at a mild twinge 
and chastised herself for overdoing it once again, but she had 
been determined to have the guestroom ready for Martha and 
Jonathan.  She was so glad they were coming to stay and help with 
the baby for the first few weeks.
     At the combined insistence of Clark, Perry, and her 
doctors, Lois had finally begun cutting back on her hours at the 
Planet, working in the morning and coming home around one or two 
o'clock to relax and rest.  She hadn't wanted to cut back her 
hours; the thought of just staying at home waiting for the baby 
to make its appearance in this world just sounded so ... not her.  
But, Lois also realized she'd needed more rest than she got in 
her typical ten-hour workday.  So, here she was, at three o'clock 
in the afternoon, lying on the sofa and reading "The Baby Book" 
by William and Martha Sears, taking special note of the chapters 
on how to recognize the beginning signs of labor.
     Her due date had been four days ago, and the perfectionist 
in Lois was just a bit perturbed that a deadline had been missed.  
Lois chuckled to herself as she remembered the conversation that 
she had held with her unborn child the other day.  Actually, 
"conversation" wasn't the correct word -- "lecture" was probably 
more accurate.
     As she remembered her words of advice on the evils of 
tardiness and missed deadlines, Lois couldn't help but remember 
back to when she and Clark had first been partnered up.  Lois was 
"senior partner," making all the rules, giving all the 
unsolicited advice, and basically doing everything she could to 
prove that she didn't need anyone's help to get the story.  Not 
even Clark's.
     She shook her head as she thought of some of the things she 
had done in that first year of their professional partnership: 
stealing the story from him, sneaking out of the Lexor Hotel so 
she wouldn't be scooped, deliberately not passing on information.  
Lois sighed.  Anyone else would have gone to Perry and asked for 
another assignment.
     But not Clark.  He had hung in there, even when she had 
been so galactically stupid.  Clark had been her partner, her 
confidante, and her best friend.  He still was all of that, but 
now he was -- more.  Clark was her husband, her lover, and the 
father of her child.  It had taken them a long time to get to 
where they were, but they had made it.  She wouldn't have changed 
a single thing they had been through, but she was certainly glad 
that she wouldn't have to go through any of it again.
     Lois checked her watch.  She had time for a short nap 
before getting dinner ready.  She closed her eyes and was quickly 
asleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

     Across the country, in California, Jimmy Olsen lounged on 
another sofa, his feet on the coffee table.  At the other end of 
the sofa, curled up like a ball, was his friend, Sarah Goodwin.  
The coffee table bore, besides Jimmy's feet, remnants of their 
breakfast and lunch.  A blanket and a pillow had been thrown onto 
the floor next to the sofa.  Ever since Jimmy had awakened that 
morning (none too early, since they had stayed up late the night 
before talking), he and Sarah had sat in Sarah's living room 
watching episodes of their favorite show, "Sally McNeill."
     "And just think -- last week, we were there," Sarah said, 
pointing to the TV.  "On the set.  Part of the show."
     "It's a good thing the police and Superman put a stop to 
the things Church was doing," Jimmy said.  "If he and that Sesrat 
woman had had their way, this show might have had an early 
cancellation."  Jimmy was quiet for a moment, remembering.  "I 
hate it when shows end without a proper ending.  They did it to 
'Alf.'"
     Somehow, Sarah wasn't surprised that Jimmy had watched 
"Alf" when he was younger.  It fit his psychological profile.  
"Didn't that show end with a cliffhanger?"
     "Yeah.  And, Sarah, it was awful!  The network just 
cancelled the show; they didn't even bother to finish the 
cliffhanger.  I still get mad every time I think about it."
     Sarah wondered for a moment if it would be unethical to use 
Jimmy as a subject for a paper she had to write for one of her 
classes.  "Perhaps some of your anger stems from the fact that 
with it being a final episode, you wouldn't see these characters 
every week anymore."
     "Yeah, you might be right -- but I like shows to at least 
have an ending.  Leaving a story with aliens coming down and 
taking something away, or leaving something behind -- it's 
unsettling," Jimmy said.
     "Everybody likes closure, Jimmy.  But maybe the people 
involved didn't want to do the show anymore.  Would you have 
wanted to wear that suit?  Unfortunately TV's like real life; it 
doesn't always leave room for the concluding happy ending where 
the characters say their farewells, goodbye forevers, amens, and 
all that."
     "I know," Jimmy agreed.  "But it's like these characters 
that we have come to know and care for are taken out of our 
lives, never to be seen again."
     "Jimmy," Sarah said patiently.  "They're not real.  They're 
figments of the imagination."
     Jimmy didn't want Sarah thinking he was *too* crazy.  
"Well, anyway, we saved 'Sally McNeill.'  We'll get to see it 
again in September."
     "Yeah," Sarah said.  "Of course, if it weren't for Superman 
saving our lives, we wouldn't be watching *anything* in the 
fall."
     "And now, with Intergang gone, Superman should be able to 
breathe more easily.  Although, you do have to admit, that Mindy 
Church was quite a look-- " Jimmy started to say, before noticing 
Sarah's evil stare.  "Um, quite a sneaky woman.  That's it."
     Sarah shook her head and rolled her eyes.  "Classic male 
fantasy case.  Put on a blond wig and inflatable boobs, and they 
go crazy."
     The episode ended.  As Sarah got up to take some dirty 
dishes to the kitchen, Jimmy searched for the remote.  Finding it 
under the empty pizza box on the coffee table, he began flipping 
through channels.  He flipped past game shows, talk shows, and 
sports events.  Finally he saw a familiar show and stopped.
     One of the first shows Jimmy could ever remember watching 
was "The Brady Bunch," and he remembered this episode from years 
ago.  The entire Brady family, including Alice, went to Aspen on 
a ski trip.  Greg did a wipeout going down Schlumpf Slope and the 
family didn't know where to find him in the snow.  Jimmy was 
surprised that he found the show hilarious; he remembered being 
concerned for Greg years ago, when he'd been a kid.
     Watching the Brady family on the slopes reminded Jimmy of 
the last time he'd been skiing.  The Daily Planet employees had 
gone to a ski resort in northern New Troy many years ago.  Sarah 
came back from the kitchen to see him laughing.
     "What's so funny?" she asked, handing him a cup of coffee, 
before walking toward the VCR to eject the tape and insert a new 
one.
     "Oh, I just remembered one time when a bunch of us from the 
Planet went on a skiing trip, and Lois -- "
     "Lois is really special to you, isn't she, Jimmy?" Sarah 
interrupted as she sat down next to him and pulled the remote 
control out of Jimmy's hand.
     "Yeah, she is.  She's changed a lot in the last few years," 
Jimmy said.  "She's still independent, but in the old days -- 
man, was she a pistol!  But everyone loved her just the same.  
Lois, Clark, and the Chief especially have been my role models.  
I wouldn't trade them for the world.  But let me tell you about 
that ski trip!"
     "Don't let me stop you," Sarah kidded.  She pressed the 
mute button on the TV, silencing the Brady Bunch, and turned 
slightly toward Jimmy, ready for the story.
     Jimmy looked toward the ceiling as he remembered the 
occasion.  "About twenty of us from the Planet went; the lodge 
split us up into four smaller groups.  Perry and his wife Alice 
had promised my mom they would look after me.  It was my first 
year at the Planet, and I was still in high school.  Also in our 
group were Lois, this guy Claude, and Cat.  Claude was really 
hitting on Lois, and she was trying to impress him, but that's 
another story.
     "Anyway, there were four slopes: Beginner, Intermediate, 
Difficult, and Advanced," Jimmy continued.  "Of the six of us, 
only Perry and Cat had actually had any experience skiing.  Lois 
had *never* skied before, but, being Lois, she insisted on going 
up the Difficult slope.  'It'll be a piece of cake,' she said.
     "Lois stood there on her skis at the top of the slope, and 
a ski instructor tried to talk her out of going down, but of 
course she snapped at him and refused help.  He made her sign 
another release form, though.  Everyone tried to convince her not 
to go down but of course, stubborn Lois has never been one to go 
the easy way."
     "So what happened?" Sarah asked, intrigued.
     "She started down the slope," Jimmy said.
     "Something tells me there's more to this story," Sarah 
said, fearing what Jimmy had to say next.
     "Actually, yeah.  Lois took a tumble -- man, she was 
cartwheeling like the 'agony of defeat' guy on the old sports 
show.  She fractured her ankle.  They had to go down and get her 
and bring her back to the lodge.  The whole rest of the week Lois 
had to walk around in the cast, and if anyone made any comments 
about it, she gave them that look -- the famous Lane Look that 
makes Superman's heat vision look like a birthday candle.  We 
used to call her 'Mad Dog Lane.'  She was ferocious."
     They laughed.  "And of course, you're not ferocious at all, 
hmmm?" Sarah said, scooting closer to him on the couch.
     "Only when I've got this programmed-killer thing going on 
and I knock DEA agents down the stairs," Jimmy joked.
     "That reminds me Jimmy.  I've got this itch -- " Sarah 
said, lifting her arm.
     Jimmy gave her a fearful look.
     "*Just kidding*!"  Sarah began to laugh.
     "That wasn't funny, Sarah," Jimmy said, but he was smiling.  
"You're gonna pay for that!"  Jimmy leaned forward until he could 
reach her, and began to tickle her.  Sarah's laughter changed in 
tone as he tickled her, and she gasped for breath and struggled 
to get away.  As she struggled, she fell back onto the couch, and 
Jimmy pinned her down, tickling her for all he was worth.
     Suddenly, Sarah gave a twist, and the next thing Jimmy knew 
he was lying on the floor next to the sofa, with Sarah on top of 
him.  She was tickling him, now, and he was laughing too, trying 
to find her ticklish spots from his vulnerable position.  
Suddenly, they each stopped, looking at each other seriously.  
Jimmy took a deep breath, but then Sarah blinked and looked away.
     "Let's ... let's watch another tape," she said, climbing 
back on to the couch and picking up the remote again.
     Jimmy slowly got up off the floor, not sure whether he was 
relieved or disappointed.  He picked up his coffee cup, and sat 
back down on the couch, trying to focus all his attention on the 
old episode of "Sally McNeill" now showing on the television set.

* * * * * * * * * *

     At five o'clock, Clark unlocked the door and paused as he 
entered the brownstone.  He tuned in briefly before smiling as he 
gently closed the door.  Softly walking into the living room, he 
stood behind the sofa, a tender smile playing on his lips as he 
gazed down at his sleeping wife.
     "The Baby Book" lay across Lois's chest, rising and falling 
with each breath.  Leaning down, he reached out and pulled the 
book away, careful not to awaken her, marking the page Lois had 
been reading before closing it.  His other hand gently brushed a 
stray lock of hair away from her face before lingering a moment 
against her cheek in a gesture that brought him both comfort and 
contentment.
     Clark was glad to see that Lois was resting.  Finally.  
With the "nesting instinct" kicking in at last, she had been in a 
frenzy of activity at home lately, and even Clark had been hard-
pressed to keep up with her pace.
     Lois stirred and shifted her position, a slight frown 
crossing her brow, and Clark heard her soft grunt of discomfort.  
His hand left her face and settled along one side of her swollen 
abdomen.  He felt the tightening of her muscles and assumed that 
she was having one of those "false" contractions -- what was it 
the book had called them?  Braxton-Hicks contractions.  He 
silently sighed, knowing that Lois wished that the real 
contractions had already come and gone.
     "Settle down, kiddo.  You'll be out here in the real world 
soon enough," Clark whispered to his unborn child.  His hand 
lightly caressed Lois, and he felt the baby stirring underneath 
his hand in response to his gesture.  He felt Lois moving also 
and turned back to see her watching him, a bemused expression on 
her face.
     Lois stretched her arms above her head.  "Mmm....  Home 
already?"
     He leaned down to capture her lips in a soft kiss.  "Yeah.  
Some of us don't have the luxury of leaving early."
     Lois reached out and pulled him down for another kiss.  
"Some of us don't have an extra thirty-five pounds to carry 
around.  How're things?"
     "Same as they were when you left this afternoon.  Jimmy's 
still on vacation in California.  Mom and Dad are still flying in 
tonight."  He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips 
briefly.  "And before you ask me, no, the Pulitzers haven't been 
announced yet."
     She looked into his eyes and smiled before checking her 
watch.  Her smile faded slightly.  "Oh, Clark!  I'm sorry.  I was 
going to have dinner ready for you when you got home."
     Clark came around the couch and kissed her forehead.  
"That's OK, honey.  I'll fix us something super-quick."  He 
headed toward the kitchen.  "Besides, didn't your doctors say to 
eat something nutritious?"  He winked and grinned before ducking 
the pillow that Lois threw at him.  He blew her a kiss as he went 
through the kitchen door.
     Just as Lois finished swinging her legs over the edge of 
the sofa and using her arms as leverage to push herself to a 
sitting position, Clark came back through the kitchen door 
carrying ... 
     "A banana split?  You call *that* nutritious?"  Lois 
couldn't help but eye the three-scoop concoction suspiciously.
     Clark just grinned.  "Hey!  There's fruit in this -- and 
dairy products."
     Lois just smirked at her husband and raised an eyebrow.
     Clark ignored her look and continued.  "Besides, bananas 
are high in potassium.  Doesn't that help with getting labor 
started?"
     "Mmm hmm.  That's what my doctors say."  She swiped a 
dollop of whipped cream with her finger and placed it in her 
mouth.  "But, I like the other method they told me about to start 
labor ..."  Her voice trailed off and she chuckled as she saw the 
pink blush of embarrassment beginning on Clark's face.
     "Um ... yeah ... well ..."
     "I really enjoyed last night, Clark.  And the fact that you 
kept us levitated just made it so much more -- exciting."
     "You're sure they said that making love toward the end of a 
pregnancy is supposed to speed up labor?"
     Lois swallowed a spoonful of banana and chocolate ice 
cream, nodding all the while.  "Yeah.  Something about the 
release of certain hormones or something like that."
     She put the spoon down.  "Sweetheart, I really appreciate 
this dinner surprise, but I'm just not in the mood for something 
this sweet and caloric."
     Clark smiled his easy smile -- the one that always sent a 
warm and fuzzy feeling through Lois, just like right now.
     "OK."  He reached for the bowl.  "No sense letting this go 
to waste."  With those words, he quickly inhaled the entire 
banana split.
     "Show off," Lois muttered.
     "What can I say?  I look like Mr. Hardbody and eat like an 
eight-year-old -- or so someone once told me long ago."
     Lois just smiled, inwardly groaning.  "You remember that?"
     Clark nodded.  "I remember everything you said to me, 
honey."
     That comment took her aback.  "Everything?"
     Clark's grin widened.  "Yeah.  Even 'Don't fall for me, 
Farmboy.  I don't have time for it.'"
     Lois grimaced.  "You *would* remember that."
     Clark held the bowl in one hand and helped Lois rise from 
the couch.  "Your warning was too late, honey.  I'd already 
fallen.  Hard."
     Lois followed Clark into the kitchen, her hand pressing 
against the small of her back.  "Hard?"
     "Uh huh.  Hard.  Completely, totally, unconditionally, and 
irreversibly head-over-heels in love with you."
     "Really?"
     "Yeah.  But, I didn't really know it.  Not until the White 
Orchid Ball.  When I saw you there, ready to take on the world, I 
was swept off my feet.  Literally."
     "So was I."  Lois smiled tenderly at Clark.  "Of course, it 
helped that you were flying me through the windows of the Planet 
at the time ..."  Lois remembered that first flight.

~~~~~EPRAD SPACE CENTER, 1992~~~~~

     Lois watched as the blue and red-clad figure underneath the 
space shuttle's engine exhaust disappeared into the upper 
atmosphere along with the space shuttle.  He was going to "give 
it a push" he had said.  After she'd been escorted off the 
colonists' transport and changed out of the flight suit she had 
"borrowed," she watched along with everyone else in the viewing 
stand and still didn't believe it.  She couldn't believe it.  She 
*wouldn't* believe it.  She was already mentally writing the 
opening paragraph of her article when something stopped her in 
mid-thought.
     Maybe he could push the shuttle into space.  After all, he 
had stopped the bomb from destroying the space shuttle.  By 
*eating* it.  She couldn't *not* believe that; she had seen it 
with her own eyes.  He had popped the bomb into his mouth the 
same way she would have put a Double Fudge Crunch Bar into hers -
- like it was candy.  The bomb had still exploded of course, but 
the only reaction had been a slight burp and a polite "Excuse 
me."
     "A push," she said aloud to no one in particular.  She 
looked toward the launch pad.  Where only minutes ago the space 
shuttle had stood, now there were only the scorch marks from when 
the rockets had burned the pad before the aborted takeoff.
     "A push," she repeated.  She shook her head, once again 
looking through the notes she had taken on the crowd's reaction.  
Closing her notepad and putting it back in her briefcase, she 
sighed.  Shielding her eyes, she looked upward, knowing full well 
that by now -- if this ... this ... person ... was true to his 
word -- the space shuttle was on its way to the space station.
     She turned in search of a telephone to call Perry when a 
collective gasp from the crowd caused her to turn in the 
direction of the pointed fingers.  Her eyes widened and her jaw 
dropped.  It was *him*.  Floating in the air.  She still couldn't 
believe that she was really seeing a *man* flying.  Maybe he's 
not a man, she thought.  STAR Labs and Luthor Technology were 
always working on some sort of robotics.  That's it, she 
determined.  It's not a man.  It's not even a little green alien.  
It's a robot.  A very sophisticated one, but a robot nonetheless.
     Still, there was something ... 
     She stepped to the side of the building and began waving 
her arms to catch his ... its ... attention.  Her actions were 
successful when the costumed figure softly landed near her.  She 
studied him as he walked toward her.  Nice body, she thought 
quickly before she looked at his face.
     "There's a lot of people that are looking for you ..." her 
voice trailed off as a slow, easy smile began on his face.  Wow, 
she thought, maybe he's a more sophisticated robot than I 
thought.
     "Thank you," he said.  "I'm not used to crowds."  He turned 
to look behind him.  He and Lois saw several scientists in white 
lab coats hurrying toward them along with several security 
personnel.
     "We'd better get out of here."  She looked into his eyes as 
he turned back toward her.
     He nodded.  "Hang on."
     "Wha ... ?"  She couldn't finish her question.  Her breath 
was being taken away as the stranger scooped her into his arms 
and rose from the ground.  Her arms went reflexively around his 
neck and she pressed herself a little closer to him ... to it.
     No, it was definitely a *him*.  Under her hands she felt 
the warmth of his skin and the steady beating of his pulse along 
his neck.  She softly gasped at the realization that this was no 
robot.  This was a living, breathing person.  An *alien* person, 
maybe, but definitely flesh and blood, not steel and motor oil.
     "Don't worry.  I've got you."  He subtly adjusted her in 
his arms and smiled confidently at her.  "Just enjoy the ride."  
He then looked straight ahead as they left the launch site, 
heading back towards Metropolis.
     Lois relaxed a bit and took the time to study his face.  He 
had such an exotic look about him, that she couldn't quite figure 
out where he was from.  Asia?  The Australian Outback?  Mars?  
Jupiter?  His thick black hair glistened in the sunlight, and 
Lois had to resist the urge to run her fingers through it.
     "Snap out of it, Lois," she told herself.  "You've been 
around men before."
     That was certainly true.  But, she doubted that anyone had 
been around a man like this one.  One who could eat bombs.  One 
who could push a space shuttle into space.  One who could fly.
     "Oh my God!" she realized.  "I'm flying!  I'm really 
flying!"  The pragmatic, sensible journalistic side of her tried 
to rationalize the entire situation, but was quickly shoved aside 
by her other side -- the one that told her to just enjoy the 
feeling and sensations.  The one that told her to admit to 
herself that she was attracted to this stranger in a way that 
went beyond just a purely physical attraction.
     She sighed silently to herself.  Ever since Claude had 
betrayed her, stealing her story and taking all the credit, she 
had been wary of any emotional entanglements, burying herself in 
her work, proving to Perry White and all the other journalists 
that even at her young age, she was a top-notch reporter.  She 
had done just that.  The three Kerth Awards she had won proved 
that.
     But, as much as she hated to admit it to herself, her Kerth 
Awards made lousy companions on the quiet nights when she was all 
alone in her apartment with a half gallon tub of Baskin Robbin's 
jamoca almond fudge ice cream.  She could feel herself responding 
to this stranger whose flying seemed as natural to him as reading 
"by Lois Lane" under the Planet's headline was to her.  It wasn't 
just physical, she realized.  She could feel an emotional 
connection with him.  As if he were her best friend in the entire 
world.  As if he were the one person she had been looking for all 
her life.  If she believed in it, Lois would have sworn that she 
had fallen in love with him at first sight.
     She shook herself from her reveries as he headed toward the 
closed windows of the Daily Planet.  She watched as he opened 
them with a short gust of breath and then glided smoothly through 
them.  She briefly looked around her, hearing Perry's astonished 
"Great shades of Elvis!" before focusing intently on the side of 
his face, memorizing his features, and mentally recording the 
feeling of utter freedom that flying with him gave her.
     She heard the oohs and aahs from the newsroom and the 
whirring of the automatic setting on a camera, probably Jimmy's.  
She even heard bits of conversation.
     "I see it, but I don't believe it!"  Cat Grant just stood 
there and watched as the flying stranger gently set Lois on her 
feet by her desk.
     "What?  A man who flies?" another Planet employee asked 
Cat.
     Lois kept her hands on his shoulders, continuing to stare 
into his eyes.  A silent message passed between them and a soft 
smile played on both their lips.
     "Lois Lane -- finally -- literally swept off her feet."  
Cat smirked.  "Too bad he's an alien."
     Lois broke off her glance and swallowed convulsively before 
finding her voice.  "I ... I think considering that I saw you 
first, you owe me an exclusive ..."
     His smile widened and his eyes twinkled with -- mischief?  
"Is that the rule?"
     Lois was surprised by his comment, but quickly regained her 
composure.  "No ... but I'd appreciate it very much ..."
     He smiled and turned away from her without answering.  The 
crowd that had gathered around them stepped back as he lifted off 
and headed toward the open window.
     Lois shifted into semi-panic mode and hurried up the stairs 
to the landing.  "Wait!  How do I find you?"
     He glided toward the window, glancing back over his 
shoulder at her.  "I'll be around."  With those words, he floated 
through the window and was soon out of sight.
     "Smooth," Jimmy commented, admiration evident in his voice.
     Cat came up the stairs behind Lois.  "Did you find out what 
the 'S' stands for?"
     Lois continued to look out the window.  Almost to herself, 
she breathlessly whispered, "Super ..."  She blinked once and 
came out of her self-induced state of amazement.  Stepping back 
down the stair, she whispered loud enough for Cat to hear.
     "Superman ..."  Lois turned toward her desk.

~~~~~METROPOLIS, 1998~~~~~

     Lois leaned against the kitchen island, shaking her head in 
disbelief and rubbing her lower back.  "Even way back then I was 
in love in you, Clark.  All that wasted time ..."
     Clark finished rinsing the ice cream bowl out and came 
around to stand beside her.  Placing his hands on her shoulders, 
he turned her to face him, all the while looking intently into 
her dark brown eyes.  He reached out to caress her face in a 
familiar and loving gesture.
     "Not wasted time, honey.  Invested time.  Time well spent.  
*I* knew that you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of my 
life with.  So did you.  You just had to figure it out for 
yourself."
     Lois reached up to press his hand against her cheek.  "You 
were that sure?"
     Clark's thumb stroked her cheek.  "That sure."  He paused 
for a moment, gathering his thoughts together.  "Remember what I 
said on that island?  This thing between us -- "
     "Being with you is stronger than me alone?  I remember."
     "It's truer now more than ever.  After all we've been 
through -- all the psycho psychiatrists, all the wedding 
destroyers, all the other obstacles -- being with you is the most 
important thing to me.  Lois, without you in my life, I'm just a 
super-hero in tights."
     A tear escaped from Lois's eye.  "Oh, Clark ..."
     Clark brushed the tear away with the back of his hand.  
"Lois Lane, you're the only woman I'll ever love.  The only woman 
I want to live my life with.  The only woman I want to *have* a 
life with."  His gaze fell to her abdomen.  "To have a family 
with."
     Lois sniffled.  "You really are the most romantic alien 
I've ever met."  The ache in her back gone for the moment, she 
inclined her head toward him.  As they hugged side-by-side, she 
placed her hand on his chest, feeling his strong, steady 
heartbeat.
     "Y'know, even back when I was 'top banana,'" Clark's 
laughter rumbled in his chest and against her hand, "I always had 
a feeling that you'd be an important part of my life.  Little did 
I guess."
     They held each other as closely as they could, enjoying the 
feeling of completeness that washed over them, the companionable 
silence broken only by their mutual sighs of contentment.
     "I love you, Lois."
     "I love you, too, Clark."
     Lois raised her head to meet Clark's lips as he leaned down 
to kiss her.  The kiss was soft and gentle with a sense of 
wonderment and reaffirmation of their commitment to each other.  
Lois sighed into the kiss a moment longer before breaking it off.  
She smiled and held Clark's hand against her stomach.  The baby 
stirred.  Clark smiled back at Lois.
     "Soon," they said in unison.

* * * * * * * * * *

     Jonathan Kent looked out of the small, round window at the 
infinite white clouds that surrounded the airplane.  He slowly 
sipped his coffee and leaned back contemplatively in his seat.
     A short time later, the flight attendant picked up 
Jonathan's plastic tray and the plastic cup and continued down 
the aisle.  With a sigh of relief, Jonathan put the tray up and 
stretched his legs out.  There never seemed to be enough room in 
an airplane, especially for someone with his girth.  Next to him, 
Martha was placidly knitting another pair of booties for the new 
baby.  
     "Martha," he said, "that baby'll have a pair of booties for 
each day of the week."
     "They lose them," Martha replied.  "Their little feet kick 
all the time, and the booties come off."
     Jonathan nodded.  "I can't believe we are going to 
Metropolis to help out with a new baby.  In all the times we've 
gone to the city to help Clark, I never dared dream of this."
     Martha remembered all the times they had flown to 
Metropolis to help Clark out.  "Do you remember the time we 
brought my hologram laser equipment when he was afraid everyone 
would find out he was Superman?
     "And then the time we had to go to Metropolis, because Lois 
*did* figure it out.  And then when Clark was bone-headed enough 
to break up with her ..."
     "I remember you sitting in the barn, talking to the cow," 
Martha said with a laugh.
     Jonathan looked out the window, remembering ... 

~~~~~ Smallville, 1995~~~~~

     Jonathan lifted the bucket and stool from their usual 
storage place, and made his way to Gwendoline's stall.  "Hey, 
girl.  Ready to give ol' Jon some milk?"  He slapped her on the 
side, a signal for her to move over so he could get into proper 
position.  Being in a cooperative mood, Gwendoline shifted to 
allow him access.  "Oh?  Going to be nice today, huh?" he laughed 
as he settled down to the chore at hand.
     As he worked, he found his mind troubled by his son's 
actions over the past few days.  "I just don't understand that 
boy, Gwen.  I mean, he loves Lois.  Why in the world did he think 
he needed to break up with her?  Can't say I blame Lois for being 
gun-shy."  He sighed heavily as he fell into a steady rhythm, 
extracting the milk in long steady strokes.  The barn cat, 
smelling fresh milk, came out of hiding and began begging him for 
a free handout.  "Want a little taste, eh Tiger?"  Jonathan 
angled the jet of milk over the edge of the bucket, striking the 
cat in the face.  Quickly recovering from the attack, Tiger 
eagerly slurped up all the milk she could get.  "Tastes pretty 
good?"  He sighed heavily again.
     "Must be rough to be a barn cat.  Your only worries are 
where the next mouse is going to come from and if you can bum 
some milk off of ol' Jon ..."  He returned to milking Gwendoline, 
his thoughts again returning to Clark.
     "What makes that boy tick?  Why would he think he could 
solve a problem by doing what he did -- separating himself from 
the very woman he wanted to be with?"  Jonathan leaned into the 
task of milking Gwendoline for several quiet minutes, letting his 
mind work on the problem without consciously thinking about it.
     Gwendoline, sensing his quiet moment, went back to chewing 
some of the tasty hay Jonathan had put in front of her before he 
had started milking her.  The hay was nice and sweet; the crop 
had been good this year, despite the large rainfall.  Gwendoline 
looked back at Jonathan; she could tell he was troubled.
     "I think there are four things that Clark has set as goals 
for himself," Jonathan said just as Gwendoline was about to 
switch her tail at him to lighten his mood.  "One, he wants a 
home.  Two, he wants a job.  Three, he wants a wife, and four, he 
wants to be a decent human being whose name is respected.
     "He has the home -- Metropolis.  He left here and traveled 
the world looking for that one place he felt ... wanted.  
Metropolis was it.  He has a good, solid job.  Working for the 
Daily Planet is a dream come true for him.  He *is* a decent 
human being."  Gwendoline looked back at Jonathan and gave a 
small grunt.  "OK, OK ... he's a decent Kryptonian, who was 
raised as a human being ... happy?"  Gwendoline flipped her tail 
and turned back to her munching.
     "All those goals....  Clark achieved them by working hard, 
reaching out and grabbing the problem with his own two hands and 
figuring out the solution.  He was in control; he could make the 
decisions that determined the outcome.  He could do what was 
necessary to achieve the desired results.
     "He traveled a long time before he found Metropolis.  He 
just kept going, moving from place to place, until he was happy.  
He had to pull out all the stops to get that job at the Planet.  
Other men would have taken Perry's rejection and moved on.  Not 
Clark -- he knew what he wanted.  He wanted the job at the Daily 
Planet.  And he worked hard and got it, too.
     "Martha and I have worked his whole life to instill in him 
what it means to be a good, decent, respectable person.  And 
Clark has done a wonderful job of it.  Clark Kent, investigative 
reporter for the Daily Planet.  That Kerth award is proof of 
that.  A respected name.  Superman.  The boy has certainly worked 
overtime on that one.
     "So, what do these things all have in common?"  Jonathan 
paused and sat up.  Gwendoline looked back at him, and blinked.  
"What they have in common is that Clark is always able to control 
the situation.  He was always the one to make the decisions, 
always the one who acted."  He leaned over and started milking 
again.
     "Now, he wants a wife.  Suddenly, with four little words, 
Clark is relinquishing control of everything.  He's giving 
himself over to Lois, putting himself in her hands.  He can't 
make the decision; he can't reach out and grab it with his hands 
and wrestle anything out of it.  He can't use his mind to think 
his way through it.  He's out of control.  It's up to Lois."
     Jonathan leaned back and looked up into the hayloft.  "So 
he says, 'Will you marry me?'"  He looked over at Tiger, who was 
still cleaning herself after her treat.  "Sounds like a simple 
enough phrase, right?  Let me tell you, nothing could be further 
from the truth."  He thought back to his own proposal -- 
proposals, actually, for he had had to ask Martha more than once.
     "He's lost.  He doesn't know what to do; he's so used to 
doing things on his own.  When Lois didn't give him the answer he 
thought she would, he started a downward spiral that could only 
lead to a crash of some sorts.  He tried to wrestle control back 
by telling her that they couldn't be together.  'For her own 
good.'  What a *crock*!"
     Gwendoline gave her opinion of the matter with a stamp of 
the hoof and a loud bellowing moo.  "Darn tootin'.  Crazy, mixed 
up, love-sick moron.  Now, of course he sees that he was a fool 
and made a mistake."  Jonathan slapped the dust off of his legs 
and stood up.  He started rubbing Gwendoline's back.  "Poor Lois.  
First he says 'we're off'; then he says 'we're on.'  Can't blame 
her for sending him packing."  Tiger, seeing that Gwendoline was 
getting more attention than she was, made her way over to where 
Jonathan was standing and started making figure eights between 
his feet, trying to get his attention.  Without thinking, 
Jonathan reached down and scooped her up, scratching her ears 
just the way she liked.  "Maybe I can talk some sense into that 
boy ..."
     "Maybe *we* can talk some sense into our boy," Martha 
interrupted from the open barn door.
     "How long you been there?"
     "Long enough."
     "So, we're headed to Metropolis again?"
     "I just finished packing several homemade goodies."
     Jonathan dropped Tiger and picked up the bucket of fresh 
milk.  "Maybe we can convince him to crawl back to her on his 
hands and knees, begging for forgiveness."
     "Flying back would be faster."

~~~~~1998~~~~~

     That was almost three years ago.  It had taken a miracle to 
get Lois and Clark married, but it had happened, and they had a 
strong, fulfilling marriage.  "And soon they'll have a baby -- 
another miracle," Jonathan thought, looking over at Martha, who 
had finished one bootie and had started on the second.  There 
were big changes in store for his son and daughter-in-law.

* * * * * * * * * *

     The "Sally McNeill" theme song filled the small apartment 
as another videotape came to an end.  Sarah was in the kitchen 
making them a snack as Jimmy continued to sit on her couch and 
stare at the television.  Sarah thought that she didn't remember 
Jimmy leaving her couch since they finished the "Sally McNeill" 
assignment with Cat Grant.  She guessed he didn't have much time 
to just relax in Metropolis; he'd told her this was the first 
vacation he'd had since he was promoted, and she knew he worked 
long hours at the paper.  She put the nacho dip in the microwave.
     "So, Sarah, can we see the episode where Sally kicks the 
fat gnome again?  Please?" Jimmy begged.
     "Hold on a sec," Sarah called from the kitchen.  "The nacho 
dip is almost ready."
     Jimmy leaned his head back on the couch and closed his 
eyes.  He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so relaxed.  
He was tired; he didn't know if it was because he and Sarah had 
stayed up so late last night, or if the unaccustomed "couch 
potato" lifestyle was more hypnotic than his usual frenzied 
activity.  Oh, well.  He could sleep tomorrow on the flight back 
to Metropolis.  His eyes flew open as he heard a rumbling noise 
that seemed to be coming from under the sofa.  "Uh-oh ..." Jimmy 
said, but then shrugged it off.  "Maybe Superman sneezed or 
something," he said, keeping his humor.  He glanced out the 
window.  It sounded like an airplane was about to land in the 
living room.
     The rumbling became louder and more intense, and was 
suddenly accompanied by a deep vibration.  Pictures dropped from 
the wall; items fell off of Sarah's shelves.  Confused, Jimmy 
figured it was another super-villain attack.  Jimmy, the boy from 
Metropolis, remembered the Kryptonian invasion, bombs going off 
in the Daily Planet, green goo falling from the sky, and tidal 
waves.  All he could think of as the shaking continued was that 
some super-villain was attacking L.A.
     "Sarah, I may have to use that signal pager thingy to call 
Superman again!" Jimmy called.  "Sounds like some bad guy's 
causing some tremors outside!"  Without thinking, he grabbed his 
camera.  "This will make a *great* article and pictorial!"
     "Wait, Jimmy!" Sarah called back.  She stayed in the 
doorway, leaning against the frame.  "This is *California*!  It's 
an earthquake!  A *natural* disaster, not some maniacal super-
villain trying to get revenge on Superman and Lois Lane.  You're 
supposed to stay *inside*.  Get under something, or stand in the 
doorway.  There could be more tremors!"
     It was too late.  Jimmy, camera and notepad in hand, was 
already out front to see just what was going on.
     "Oh, what the hell!"  Sarah grabbed her purse and ran 
outside after Jimmy.  Behind her the light over the dining room 
table swung slowly back and forth in the deserted apartment.

* * * * * * * * * *

     The summer evening was still warm, so Lois and Clark were 
eating dinner out on the patio.  Clark had made a quick run for 
Chinese food, getting enough so that there would be leftovers for 
his parents when they arrived.
     "How's that backache?"  Clark asked.  He popped another egg 
roll in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
     "Gone.  That shower helped."  Lois picked up a piece of 
broccoli with her chopsticks.  "This food is delicious."
     Clark smiled.  "Just a little hole in the wall -- "
     Lois returned his smile, nibbling at the broccoli.  
"Y'know, when you said that the first time, little did I know you 
meant the *Great Wall* of China."  She sighed and placed her 
chopsticks down on the side of her plate.  "That's it, I'm 
stuffed."
     Clark frowned.  "You hardly ate a thing."
     Lois rubbed the sides of her belly.  "Can you blame me?  
All my innards are squished together by the baby.  It's amazing 
that I was able to eat at all."
     She pushed herself up from the table, grunting softly.  
"I'm going to go lie down on the sofa ... well, *try* to lie 
down."
     Clark chuckled and kissed her forehead as she slowly walked 
by him.  "I'll clean this up."
     Lois waved her hand at him as she walked into the living 
room.  She picked up the remote control and clicked on LNN.  The 
reporter's announcement made her stop and listen intently.  Clark 
came into the room carrying the dirty plates.
     "...  injured in the earthquake that struck southern 
California just moments ago.  Seismologists have not yet 
determined the magnitude of the quake, but apparently more than 
one fault is involved ..."
     Lois turned to Clark.  "Go."
     Clark hesitated.  "Lois ..."
     "I'm fine.  Those people need you right now more than I do.  
Jimmy's in California.  Go."
     Clark looked intently into her eyes before handing her the 
plates.  Stepping back, he spun into the familiar blue and red 
suit.  He leaned over and kissed her not so gently on the lips.  
"Love you."
     "Be careful."
     Clark nodded.  With a whoosh, he was out the window, 
speeding to California.
     Lois whispered a soft "love you" and rubbed her belly.  
"Get used to this, kiddo.  Daddy does it a lot."

* * * * * * * * * *

     It was the first time Jimmy had ever been in an earthquake.  
He couldn't help but feel overwhelmed and slightly in awe when he 
looked around.  He was used to seeing Superman leap tall 
buildings and change the course of rivers, but this was a force 
of nature that had the power to crack water mains like 
toothpicks, topple trees, and shift the foundations of homes.  
Looking at the houses tilting crazily to one side made him feel 
slightly dizzy.
     Many people were outside surveying the mess as Jimmy and 
Sarah roamed the streets.  They were able to help a few injured 
people, shift some of the debris that had fallen in roads and 
driveways, and push cars that had stalled out where the streets 
were flooded because of the broken water mains.  Everywhere he 
went, Jimmy's eyes were open.  All he could think of was the 
story he would write for the newspaper.
     A young girl, about five, was crying on a street corner.  
Jimmy and Sarah went to see what was wrong.  "Mama!  Mama!  
Quiero mi mama!" [I want my Mommy!] she said between sobs.  
Jimmy, who didn't speak Spanish, looked at Sarah helplessly. 
     "Todo va estar bien.  Adonde estabas la ultima ves que tu 
viste a tu mama?"  [Everything is going to be good.  When was the 
last time that you saw your mother?] Sarah asked.  The girl 
pointed toward an apartment building.  Taking her hand, Sarah and 
Jimmy led her toward the building.  A frantic woman, carrying an 
infant in one arm and holding a toddler by the hand, was calling 
"Teresa" over and over.  When she saw Sarah and Jimmy with the 
girl, she ran over, fairly dragging the toddler.  She knelt down 
and began speaking to the girl in a torrent of Spanish.  After a 
moment, she looked up at Sarah and Jimmy.
     "Gracias a Dios.  Gracias.  Muchas gracias.  Estaba 
judgando en la calle cuando empeso un temblor.  Muchas gracias 
por ayudarla.  Gracias por cuidar a mija despues del temblor."
     Jimmy, understanding the "gracias," smiled.  Sarah murmured 
"de nada," and they left the apartment complex, continuing down 
the street.  They could hear sirens in the distance, so they knew 
that there must be more damage, more people hurt somewhere, but 
in this residential area everything seemed more or less normal.  
As they continued following the sounds of sirens, Jimmy became 
quieter and quieter.
     "Jimmy, are you all right?" Sarah asked him.  
     Jimmy stopped and looked around for a moment before 
answering  "Yeah.  I -- I just haven't seen anything like this 
before.  I know things like this happen -- earthquakes, 
tornadoes, floods -- but this sort of thing just doesn't happen 
in Metropolis.  We have weird problems caused by villains, but 
Superman flies in and saves the day and that's it."
     Sarah surprised him to speechlessness by kissing him on the 
cheek.  "It'll be OK.  After a disaster like this, everybody 
helps everybody else.  You'll see."
     The two of them heard a siren wind down and stop; it seemed 
to be coming from a few blocks east.  Jimmy and Sarah went toward 
the noise and saw that four ambulances were trying to get down 
Simkins Avenue but a fallen light post was in the way.  As Sarah 
had predicted, a group of about twelve people were working 
together to move the post so the ambulances could get by.  "The 
human quality is still here," Jimmy thought, realizing this would 
be a perfect angle for his article.  Joining the group trying to 
shift the post, Jimmy couldn't help but think how easily Superman 
would be able to move it.  But Superman was in Metropolis, and 
besides, he wasn't needed.  A cheer went up as the light post was 
moved to the side of the street and the ambulances went down the 
street.  Jimmy cheered with the rest of them, proud of their 
accomplishment.  This was a case where the "regular people" could 
handle it.

* * * * * * * * * *

     Superman tore through the sky, the time zones melting away 
behind him.  High above the clouds, the sky was blue and the sun 
dazzling, while ahead of him, the sunlight glinted off the Los 
Angeles smog as if it were a brown sea, the tops of the Hollywood 
Hills poking up like islands.  His super-vision cut through the 
murk to the buildings and roadways below, seeking earthquake 
damage while he monitored the emergency channels to direct him to 
where he was most needed.
     Despite the many calls for assistance on the emergency 
bands, he had no trouble recognizing the situation that most 
required his help.  An officer was reporting a collapsed 
overpass, but the frayed edge of desperation in the man's voice 
as he requested more emergency vehicles made Superman's heart 
sink.  He waited long enough to find out where the overpass was 
located; then he shot across the city in a streak of red and 
blue.
     From a distance, he could see that part of one of LA's 
famous stacks had collapsed.  Six levels of high-speed roadways 
crisscrossing in one spot: the potential for disaster was 
enormous.  Super-vision detected the lingering cloud of concrete 
dust, much of which had settled onto the unmoving cars on the 
approaches to the disaster area.  Two police officers were at the 
scene, their cars parked sideways across the lanes of traffic, 
emergency lights flashing, acting as hasty barricades to traffic 
as the officers tried to reach people who had been caught under 
the collapsing overpass.
     As Superman soared over the stack, he saw that only one of 
the levels -- the topmost one -- had actually fallen, but it had 
taken out a five hundred foot span that had apparently been 
crowded with cars.  Vehicles, concrete, asphalt, and steel 
reinforcements had plummeted onto the two levels that crossed 
below.  Both lower levels still stood, a testimony to the 
earthquake-conscious engineering that had gone into them.  But 
those roadways had been as crowded as the top one, he realized 
sickly.
     He lighted beside one of the officers.  "Sir?"
     The weary, bedraggled man kept his head down as he shoved 
at a table-sized chunk of concrete.  "Go back to your car and 
wait," he said automatically.
     "Here -- " Superman pushed the concrete boulder out of the 
way.  "I can help."
     The officer stared in disbelief at the blue Spandex-clad 
arm that made nothing of the impossible weight; then he raised 
his eyes to the hero's face.  "Superman.  Thank God!"
     "Let me do this while you get the traffic cleared away.  
The ambulances'll need to have room to get through, and I'll need 
some space."
 
* * * * * * * * * *

     Metropolis International Airport was one of the largest and 
busiest in the world, but Martha and Jonathan Kent knew their way 
around it as well as they knew their own farm.  Although they 
frequently flew "Superman Express" to Metropolis, they arrived by 
more conventional means just as often.
     As they headed away from the gate, Jonathan paused and 
looked longingly at one of the lounges that lined the concourse.  
It was almost seven o'clock and he was hungry.  The peanuts on 
the plane hadn't filled him up in the least.  The food in the 
airports was *so* expensive, though, and he had to agree with 
Martha that the quality of airport food just wasn't worth it.  
He'd just have to wait until they arrived at Clark's.  He was 
about to catch up with Martha, when the television screen in the 
eating area caught his eye.  A familiar figure in red and blue 
was lifting pieces of concrete off cars.
     "Martha," he called, gesturing to the television, and she 
turned back and joined him.  They stood for a moment and watched 
the live pictures of the devastation in Los Angeles, the crowds 
of people outside, clearing the streets, the damaged buildings, 
and then again, the terrible tragedy at the highway.
     Martha shared a look with Jonathan, full of sympathy and 
concern for the victims of the earthquake, and of pride in their 
son.  Silently they turned and headed back down the concourse, 
toward the baggage claim area.
     Jonathan found a large cart, and he and Martha began to 
pile their luggage on it.  They were planning on staying in 
Metropolis for six weeks, and Martha had packed most of her art 
supplies, as well as necessities like clothes and freshly baked 
pies.  He maneuvered the cart out the automatic doors, while 
Martha went to find a cab.
     An unsuspecting taxi-driver pulled up.  He hopped out of 
the cab to help Martha but his eyes widened in disbelief when 
Jonathan pushed the cart up to the curb.
     Ten minutes later, Martha announced, "There, that's the 
last of the suitcases!  Now we just need to load these large 
boxes."  She studied the dimensions of the boxes, and the size of 
the cab doors, and came to a decision.  "Jonathan and I can keep 
the picnic hampers in the back seat with us, and it looks like 
you'll have room in the front seat for the smaller boxes," she 
energetically instructed the cab driver.  "Why, thank you," she 
added, smiling, as the slightly dazed driver held the door of the 
cab open for her.
     Jonathan looked a little uncomfortable as he settled into 
the back seat, careful to avoid both of the large baskets that 
Martha had set on the floor of the cab.  "You know, Martha, it 
might not have been a bad idea to let Lois pick us up in the 
Jeep.  Clark said that she's been bored and a little restless 
since she started her maternity leave.  She might have liked the 
opportunity to get out of the house for an hour or two."
     Martha shook her head.  "She probably would have, honey.  
That's why I didn't ask her.  You know how stubborn Lois can be; 
she'd have insisted on helping us with the luggage."  Here, 
Martha was interrupted by a sarcastic mumble from the front seat 
that sounded suspiciously like, "and that would be a *bad* thing 
because?"
     Martha cleared her throat and raised her voice slightly, 
choosing to ignore her critic.  "And she'd be entertaining us, 
and probably stopping for a late dinner on the way back to the 
brownstone ..."  At the mention of dinner, Jonathan looked as if 
he might be tempted to side with their driver, so Martha hastily 
made her point, "...  and that baby is *already* four days late.  
Why, Lois could go into labor at any moment, and this poor man -- 
" Martha paused to indicate their intrigued but slightly wary 
driver, "would be driving us to the hospital, rather than to Lois 
and Clark's.  Your first grandchild might be born in the back 
seat of a taxi!"
     Jonathan chuckled as he glimpsed the driver's horrified 
expression in the rearview mirror.  Probably best not to mention 
that he or Martha were both perfectly capable of driving Lois to 
the hospital, or that Lois would most likely insist on driving 
herself.  The driver was definitely convinced that he'd gotten 
the better of two possible scenarios, which was undoubtedly just 
what Martha had planned.  Grateful for his good luck in having to 
deliver only boxes, baskets, and suitcases, rather than a baby, 
the driver's mood rapidly changed.  For the rest of the drive, he 
graciously indicated what he felt might be points of interest to 
his passengers, as well as inquiring, quite courteously, about 
the Kents' impressions of Metropolis, the smoothness of their 
flight, and the condition of crops in Kansas.
     Pulling up in front of the townhouse, the driver parked the 
car, jumped out to help the Kents alight, and rushed to open the 
trunk.  By the time Lois had reached the front door in response 
to the ringing doorbell, the driver had neatly piled the parcels, 
suitcases, and picnic hampers on the stoop of the brownstone.  He 
was pocketing the bills Jonathan had just handed him when Lois 
opened the door.  Martha and Jonathan practically ran up the 
outside stairs to hug her.
     "Jonathan!  Martha!"  Lois hugged each of the Kents as well 
as her bulging midsection would allow.  "I'm so glad you're here, 
but you should have called.  I would have been happy to pick you 
up at the airport."  Lois took a short pause to catch her breath, 
then slipped into full babble mode, "although in a way, this is 
even better, because I've found a million things that need to be 
done before the baby arrives."
     The cab driver's eyes widened as he got a look at the 
Kents' very pregnant daughter-in-law, and he quickly moved the 
luggage from the front porch to the hallway.  Task completed, he 
wished the Kents a nice day, ignored Jonathan's attempt to hand 
him an additional tip, and moved rapidly down the brownstone's 
stairs.  Lois watched, puzzled, as the driver sped off, taking 
the corner on two wheels, and rapidly disappeared from sight.  
She turned toward Jonathan and Martha and sighed apologetically, 
"I swear, Metropolis cab drivers get stranger by the day."  Then, 
as Lois closed the front door, and ushered her guests into the 
living room, she asked in a slightly aggrieved tone, "What *are* 
you two laughing about?"

* * * * * * * * * *

     If the Kents had thought that Lois would slow down once 
they were all settled in the living room, they were badly 
mistaken.  Lois had laughed when Martha told her why she and 
Jonathan found the cab driver's hasty retreat so funny, repeated 
that picking them up at the airport would have been no problem, 
and then launched into a description of all the things that she 
needed to do before the baby arrived.
     "Up until this morning, I just couldn't wait for this baby 
to get here -- he's four days overdue you know," Lois informed 
the Kents for the third time, "but today I realized that nothing 
is ready for him -- I don't know how I'm going to get everything 
together in time.  Of course, we really can't be certain when 
he's due, either, because Kryptonian babies might be on a 
completely different time table."
     "Lois, why don't we go up to the nursery?"  Martha 
interrupted, as Lois paused once again to take a breath.  
"Jonathan and I can help you with whatever you need to do.  
That's why we're here!  We've brought a few small things for the 
baby, but let's leave those until we've organized everything 
that's already in the baby's room.  Then we'll make a list of 
what you still need, and send Jonathan or Clark out to pick them 
up while you and I relax, and fuss over baby clothes," Martha 
added, giving Lois a sly wink.
     Lois accepted the suggestion eagerly.  As the Kents 
followed her upstairs to the newly decorated nursery, Martha and 
Jonathan exchanged an excited glance.  While Martha had never 
experienced a pregnancy firsthand, both she and Jonathan 
recognized Lois's frenetic activity as the rush of energy that 
often immediately preceded labor.

* * * * * * * * * *
LOS ANGELES:  5:30 p.m. (8:30 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time (EDT))

     Jimmy Olsen found himself filled with adrenaline as he 
watched the ambulance make its way down the street.  The crowd of 
people that had helped clear the street stood milling around.  
Jimmy interviewed a dozen people and took their pictures; then he 
headed down the street, following the ambulance.  It was heading 
toward a low-income housing unit at the end of Simkins Avenue.  
Part of the poorly built structure had collapsed during the 
earthquake, injuring a few people and leaving many homeless.  
Jimmy stood still for a moment, surveying the damage, before 
approaching a paramedic.
     "Jimmy Olsen, Daily Planet," Jimmy identified himself.  
"How many people are injured, Mr. --"  He looked at the 
paramedic's nametag.  "Russo?"
     "The others were just taken out by other ambulances," the 
paramedic answered as he bandaged a boy's knee.  "I've got one 
here, which makes it eight in all, I think.  These people are 
lucky to be alive.  We didn't have any fatalities here, thank 
God."
     "Have there been fatalities other places?" Jimmy asked.
     "Yeah, a real disaster over on the Ross-Leming Memorial 
Highway, close to the Minear Avenue overpass.  Superman's been 
over there, helping out, but a lot of people have been hurt or 
killed."  The paramedic finished bandaging the knee, and let the 
little boy go with his mother.
     Jimmy smiled at the mention of Superman's name.  Russo 
looked up at him for the first time.  "You look familiar.  Hey, 
you didn't ever date my sister, did you?" he asked with a frown.
     "No.  I'm a Metropolis boy ... err, man," Jimmy said, 
before taking a breath of contentment.  It was good to know there 
were some things, some *people* you could depend on, even across 
the country.  He also knew that he and Sarah had some walking to 
do to reach Minear Avenue.  Perhaps there they could catch up 
with Superman and get some quotes from him.

* * * * * * * * * *

     Superman rose into the air above the devastation of the 
three roadways, pinpointing the signs of life he heard and 
scanning the mountain of steel and concrete around them, looking 
for the safest way to reach them, calculating what megaliths of 
concrete and steel had to be moved first.  Practice -- knowing 
what to look for, knowing what effect moving this or that 
supporting slab would have -- had made this a faster process than 
the first time he had performed such a rescue.  Even so, it took 
time that he was achingly aware some of the survivors might not 
have.
     The first car was easy to reach.  It was wedged nose-down 
between two large chunks of broken roadway, its frame twisted, 
its glass shattered.  Rather than move it and risk the concrete 
on either side shifting and falling elsewhere, Superman peeled 
the car roof back like a flip-top can.  A woman in her late 
twenties was crumpled over the steering wheel, her dark hair 
straggling over her face and sprinkled with broken glass, her 
breathing short and shallow with pain.  He scanned her, 
identifying a broken wrist and leg and cracked ribs.  
Involuntarily, he glanced back at the torn-off end of the 
overpass above him.  She had been lucky.
     Superman eased her upright and broke off the steering wheel 
and column so he could gently lift her out of the car without 
hurting her more.  A short flight to the area the officers had 
cleared for the injured, and he was setting her down on a blanket 
one of the officers had spread on the roadway.  One down.  Dozens 
to go.

* * * * * * * * * *
348 HYPERION STREET, METROPOLIS:  9:00 P.M.

     For the better part of an hour, Martha and Jonathan had 
helped Lois unpack shower gifts, sort baby clothing by size, and 
stack cartons of diapers neatly on the closet shelves.  "Lois, 
honey," Martha inquired, glancing surreptitiously at her watch, 
"don't you think it might be a good idea to take a little break?"
     Lois momentarily stopped tucking in the sheets on the crib 
and looked up at her mother and father-in-law.  Her jaw had taken 
on the stubborn set that all three Kents had learned to heed as 
one early warning sign of a potential explosion.  "I can't, 
Martha; I have too much to do and too little time to do it in.  
This baby," Lois pointed to her swollen mid-section, "could be 
here in a few hours, and I haven't made her ... uhmm ... his bed, 
or organized the supplies for the changing table, or separated 
the bed toys from the bath toys or ..."
     Seeing that Lois's agitation was growing along with her to-
do list, Martha smoothly interrupted, "Well, we're here to help 
you now!  Jonathan and I have a lot of experience -- especially," 
and here Martha's eyes twinkled, "with getting a nursery together 
on *very* short notice."
     "Why don't you two go downstairs," Jonathan chimed in, 
intercepting the "help-me-out-here" look that Martha had flung in 
his general direction, "and let me take over here.  I'll have the 
last of these gifts out of their boxes and the boxes broken down 
in another fifteen or twenty minutes.  Maybe," he suggested 
hopefully, "you two could check the picnic hampers.  I thought I 
saw Martha put a pie in one of them."
     The idea of pie seemed to catch, but not engage, Lois's 
attention.  "I am a *tiny* bit hungry, now that I think about 
it," Lois admitted.  Her eyes widened in the sudden realization 
that she'd forgotten to offer her guests anything to eat or 
drink.  "Oh!  You two must be starving after that long flight.  
I'm so sorry!  What could I have been thinking of?"
     "Our grandchild, most likely," Martha replied with a wide 
grin.  Looking more serious, she inquired "Lois, have you been 
having contractions?"
     "Why would you say that?" Lois asked suspiciously, her eyes 
narrowing.
     "You've stopped talking or working a few times to take deep 
breaths, and it seems to be occurring at fairly regular 
intervals," Martha replied.  "You haven't been snacking at all, 
and you have even more energy than usual, which is almost scary," 
she added with a smile.
     "I *might* have had one or two contractions," Lois 
admitted, not quite looking Martha in the eye.
     Upon hearing this latest news, Jonathan paused momentarily.  
Surprised that Lois's labor was already underway, he looked up 
from the instructions of the EZ Assemble Tiny Tot Umbrella 
Stroller long enough to give Martha a smile of pleased 
anticipation.  He was about to reiterate that Lois should take a 
break and let him finish up here, but didn't get the opportunity.  
Martha was asking Lois another question.
     "About a half hour apart?" Martha persisted.
     "About twenty minutes," Lois answered with a "now the cat's 
out of the bag" kind of resignation.  "Can we go look for that 
pie now?  Because I know that once I get to the hospital, they 
won't let me eat or drink much, and I'd really like some tea, and 
maybe a cookie, before we go."
     Martha slipped her arm around Lois's shoulders, and gave 
her a little hug.  "I don't know how Superman keeps up with you," 
Martha said with a chuckle, as the two women headed off to the 
first floor.

* * * * * * * * * *
LOS ANGELES:  6:30 p.m. (9:30 p.m. EDT)

     A siren blared as an ambulance sped down Minear Avenue, 
heading toward the disaster site.  Pulling in next to a police 
car with blue lights flashing, the ambulance driver hopped out of 
the emergency vehicle.  "Who else is here?" she asked the police 
officer who had directed them through.
     "You're the first EMTs," he answered and gestured to the 
line of earthquake victims near the end of the roadway.
     The driver's eyes bulged.  "My God!  How long have you guys 
been at it?"
     The officer smiled.  "Not long.  We've had ... help," he 
added, turning at the grating sound of concrete against concrete 
to see a semi-trailer-sized chunk of broken roadway rise into the 
air, a small, blue-and-red figure beneath it guiding it to a 
swift landing on a pile of similar debris on the open easement 
surrounding the freeway.
     Superman returned to the scene of the disaster in a blur of 
red and blue, and when he emerged a moment later, he was carrying 
the passenger compartment of a smashed car.  He gently set it 
down in a cleared area near the other victims and, using his 
laser-like heat vision and strong, steel-hard fingers, began to 
extract the people trapped inside the crushed vehicle.
     The ambulance driver watched with mouth agape.  "Oh, wow!  
I've never seen him in action before."
     By that time, Superman had reached the injured driver and 
was lifting him out.  The ambulance driver suddenly remembered 
why she was there, and she hurried back to the ambulance to get 
her equipment and join her fellow EMTs in setting up a triage 
unit.
     The officer watched a moment longer, until a call from the 
dispatcher sent him hurrying to Superman, who was setting a young 
child on the ground beside his injured parents.  "Superman!"
     The superhero looked up, his face drawn and grim, his hands 
and suit covered with blood and dirt.  "Yes?"
     "A couple of ambulances can't get through the traffic jam.  
Can you bring them over here?"
     "Where are they?"
     As Superman rocketed into the air, the officer shaded his 
eyes to watch him.  Younger than he'd expected and not as 
hardened to death and disaster, but ..."wow" didn't begin to 
cover it.

* * * * * * * * * *
348 HYPERION STREET, METROPOLIS:  9:30 P.M.

     Back in Metropolis, the pie had been found, cut, and 
served, with a generous amount left behind for Clark, whenever he 
returned home.  Lois had eaten little, but had enjoyed the Kents' 
company as the three of them sat around the kitchen table.  
Jonathan and Martha had realized that with Clark still in 
California, Lois didn't want to think about how her labor was 
progressing, or discuss leaving for the hospital.  They'd kept 
her entertained with stories about life in Kansas and Clark's 
childhood there, but after about twenty minutes, Jonathan had 
sensed her restlessness.  He suspected that there were some 
things that she wanted to discuss with Martha alone.
     "Martha," Jonathan suggested, as he prepared to leave the 
kitchen, "This might be a good time for you and Lois to look at 
those baby things you mentioned earlier.  The nursery is almost 
finished; I just need to clean up the last of the packing 
material and double check the fittings on that stroller.  And," 
he added playfully, "I've already seen those hand-painted denim 
overalls and that spotted cow sleeper that you made for the baby, 
at least six times."
     "Jonathan!  Now you've ruined the surprise!"  Martha 
replied in mock indignation, as she, too, left the kitchen.  
Lois, looking intrigued and a little apprehensive, remembering 
Martha's penchant for the abstract, followed her to the pile of 
luggage and packages in the living room.

* * * * * * * * * *
DAILY PLANET BUILDING, METROPOLIS:  10:00 p.m.

     The blaring noise and commotion from the newsroom could be 
heard in Perry White's office.  All the television sets were on, 
following the latest events in California, and a large handful of 
reporters and researchers collected information on the damage and 
rescue attempts, rushing to finish their stories before deadline.  
Amid the hussle, there was a knock on Perry's door.
     "Mr. White?"
     Perry looked up and found one of the Planet's beat 
reporters, Sherri, leaning halfway in the door, a short stack of 
white papers in her hand.
     "Come in," Perry said gruffly as he went back to work at 
his desk.
     Sherri walked over to his desk and promptly plopped the 
papers down in front of him.
     "Sorry to bother you, Mr. White, but I've got the latest 
stats from the earthquake.  Another couple dozen people found 
dead where the bridges collapsed.  Superman's there digging the 
bodies out.  A few other casualities scattered around the city.  
All the hospitals are overwhelmed.  Et cetera, et cetera.  It's 
all there."
     As Perry let out a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair, 
a pencil rolled off his desk.  He had seen too many calamities 
like this, where the counts of the dead and the wounded mounted 
inexorably.  He was tired of the torrential work the day had 
brought.  The calls were never-ending, and all the new 
information and damage reports that came in made him change the 
size of the front-page stories in the next paper's layout that he 
was working on.
     "A sane man," he thought, "would go home to his wife and 
forget about all this.  But Alice isn't waiting for me at home 
anymore."  He glanced at the Elvis bust clock on the wall, which 
read 10:03 p.m.  Turning back to the piles on his desk, he 
cracked his knuckles and sighed again.
     Sherri had started to leave, but paused at the door after 
hearing Perry's sigh.
     "Are you okay, Mr. White?"  Her eyes showed signs of 
concern.
     "Fine, Sherri.  Really.  Thanks for the reports.  You're 
doing a great job."
     Sherri smiled and left, closing the office door behind her.  
Standing up and walking over to the office window, Perry pulled 
the blinds open and gazed out into the newsroom, which was full 
of people bustling here and there, answering phones, typing on 
computers, or, in Ralph's case, lounging in a chair in front of 
the television set eating a piece of cold pizza.
     As Perry scanned the area where he had spent more nights 
than his actual home, he found his eyes resting on a spot that 
wasn't so busy; in fact, nothing was happening there at all.  
Jimmy had attained cub reporter status a while back, and he had 
finally acquired a desk of his own.  It was an old and scarred, 
crammed into the corner next to the fax-machine, but Jimmy 
proudly called it home.
     But Jimmy wasn't calling it home right now.  As a matter of 
fact, Jimmy was in California right now, in the very midst of the 
earthquake itself.  And if Perry knew Jimmy, he knew that the boy 
would be out in the middle of everything, taking pictures and 
writing a first-person perspective.  He'd better be -- the Daily 
Planet needed a good front-page story.  But, Perry knew, like 
Lois and Clark, Jimmy would probably be ignoring his own personal 
safety to get the story.  And Perry couldn't help worrying.
     Standing there, looking at the desk, Perry recognized 
Jimmy's youthful vibrance and eagerness ... traits that he 
himself had held when he was Jimmy's age.  Actually, Perry had 
been around Jimmy's age when he had first started in the 
journalism business.  He could remember his very first story ... 

~~~~~  DAILY PLANET, 1962 ~~~~~

     "Aw, c'mon, Chief, the car carnival?  What's so newsworthy 
about a bunch of souped-up cars?  Couldn't I have something a 
little more ... I dunno ... exciting?  What about that Klan 
firebombing downtown?" whined a skinny teenager obnoxiously.
     "Rosenthal and Grant are already on that.  Listen to me, 
White.  You don't become a journalist by hitting all the hard 
stories right off the bat.  You gotta take a couple practice 
swings and even a few strikes before you'll really hit one out of 
the park, you catch my drift?"
     "Yeah, sure thing, Chief," Perry said as he turned to walk 
away, a little downtrodden.
     "Oh, and White ..." the editor in chief called back to him.  
The young Perry turned around expectantly.
     "Yes, sir?"
     "Don't call me 'Chief.'"
     "Yes, sir."

~~~~~ DAILY PLANET, 1998~~~~~

     Perry smiled nostalgically, remembering his old boss -- 
John Q. Umphres, the longest-serving editor in chief at the 
Planet, and one huge baseball fanatic.  He never gave Perry any 
breaks, but made him work for everything he wanted.  And even 
though he hadn't wanted to cover that car carnival, had resented 
every minute he spent talking to those egotistical race-car 
owners, and had felt he was wasting his time as he wrote the 
article, Perry could still remember how great it felt to see his 
first story in print with his own byline under it.
      Perry had realized from that point on that even the most 
prominent investigative reporters had to start out small, just 
like he had.  And look where he was now -- editor in chief of one 
of the largest and most respected daily newspapers in the world, 
with an award-winning staff and a young man, much like himself, 
trying so hard to get to the top.  Perry hoped that when the time 
came for him to finally step down and retire, he would hand over 
his job and all the responsibilities that came with it to a man 
who had every bit as much journalistic integrity as he had.  And 
it would be no surprise if that man's name was -- 
     "Jerry Seinfeld!  No way!"
     Ralph's sudden outburst interrupted Perry's thoughts.  
Ralph dropped his pizza slice back into the box and wiped his 
hands on his pants as he walked closer to the newsroom's 
television sets.
     "Ralph, what in the name of Graceland are you yelling about 
over there?" Perry growled, walking out into the newsroom.
     "Haven't you been listening, Chief?  They just discovered 
that Jerry Seinfeld's been trapped under some rubble caused by 
the earthquake!  They're trying to dig him out now!  Isn't that 
something?"  Perry attempted to restrain himself and rubbed the 
bridge of his nose.
     "For Pete's sake, Ralph, we don't pay you to sit on your 
tush and eat pizza.  Get to work!"
     "Right, Chief.  Sorry.  I'm goin'.  Really ... I just gotta 
..."  Ralph picked up his half-eaten pizza slice and shoved the 
rest of it in his mouth.  "I juss gohha finis up dis pissah wheel 
quick."  He swallowed.  "See?  On my way."  He started to make a 
grab for another slice.
     "Ralph!"
     "Okay, Chief.  Gotcha.  Goin' now."  Ralph started to run 
off.
     "Oh, and Ralph ..."  Perry called out to him.
     Ralph turned around.
     "Don't call me Chief."

* * * * * * * * * *
LOS ANGELES:  7:00 p.m. (10:00 p.m. EDT)

     Superman studied the slope of rubble a second time and once 
again listened for the faint, erratic heartbeats of the people 
trapped under that pile of broken concrete.  If he burrowed into 
the pile, he would dislodge the boulders balanced precariously 
over the vehicle at the bottom of the pile, and they were big 
enough to crush the fragile car.  And if he came in from the top, 
he could grab the first boulder, but he was afraid the second one 
would slip down and smash the car like a pop can.  But if he 
waited much longer....  The creaking and groaning of shifting 
concrete was a roar to his sharpened senses.
     All right.  Try it anyway.  He bore into the pile from the 
side, spinning like a drill, the friction of his passage melting 
the concrete and steel into a tunnel that would hold, he hoped, 
until he got the victims free.  The tunnel was dark, barely 
enough light sifting in from the entrance to allow even his 
enhanced vision to locate the car and its passengers.  He cleared 
a space alongside the driver's side door, listening to the 
ominous rumbling above him, removing the door as swiftly and 
delicately as he could.
     But not delicately enough.
     Something above him growled and scraped as it moved.  In 
the instant before the kiloton boulder lost the support that had 
braced it above the car, Superman threw himself on his back 
between the car roof and the huge slab and *shoved.*  The 
downward motion slowed, but the car roof under him was buckling.  
He couldn't afford to retreat before this, and he reached inside 
himself for more strength.  His muscles tightened and bulged 
under the strain, and his breath hissed out sharply as he threw 
every bit of his will into resisting the pull of gravity on the 
pile above him.
     Slowly, slowly, the megalith gave way before him, and he 
raised it far enough to get his knees, then his feet under him.  
Watching with his x-ray vision, he lifted carefully, using one 
slab to push the other.  Beneath him, rubble slid into the open 
space, and he prayed desperately that the car roof would 
withstand the new assault, but he couldn't do anything about it 
while he held the boulders.  Moving as quickly as he could, 
Superman balanced the enormous slabs one above the other until he 
had a clear drop to the easement.  He gave one last shove, 
sending the huge chunks of roadway tumbling onto the open ground, 
even as he spun back and dug through the newly settled rubble to 
reach the car and its helpless occupants.
     The roof had given way, but when Superman peeled it back, 
he saw that the seat backs and dash kept the load of rubble off 
the unconscious woman.  Her companion hadn't been so lucky, and 
at the sight of that battered head, he closed his eyes for a 
second, helplessly wishing that he were faster or stronger or 
somehow able to perform the impossible.
     Gritting his teeth against a sick feeling of futility, he 
lifted the woman out of her metal prison, only then noticing that 
she was heavily pregnant.  A vision of Lois, smiling, telling him 
to go, her hand resting on her baby-swollen belly, flashed into 
his mind.  She believed that he didn't have to be able to do 
*everything* in order to make a difference, that whatever he 
*could* do was enough, and he took strength from the memory.  He 
soared out of the heap of debris and handed the unconscious woman 
over to the EMTs before he returned to the car and, almost 
tenderly, lifted the dead man from the wreckage.

* * * * * * * * * *
348 HYPERION STREET, METROPOLIS.  9:45 P.M.

     Martha and Lois sat at the patio table, enjoying the light 
evening breeze and the scent of the mid-summer roses blooming 
nearby.  The sun had set about an hour ago, but sufficient light 
shone through the glass door to light the area to their 
satisfaction.  Fireflies darted back and forth between the garden 
and the terrace, illuminating the darker areas of the back yard 
with their soft glow.
     Lois had carried the tiny overalls and sleeper out to the 
terrace with her, and was examining them yet again.  She'd been 
genuinely pleased and touched by this latest gift of Martha's.  
The hand-painted baby animals were both realistic and charming, 
and happily lacked the outre' look of some of Martha's more avant 
garde artwork.  Lois was playing with the minuscule buckles on 
the overalls, practicing opening and closing them.
     Martha smiled at the look of intense concentration on 
Lois's face.  "They're pretty small, aren't they?" Martha asked, 
guessing that Lois was thinking about more than labor and the 
impending birth.
     "The overalls or the buckles or the baby?" Lois asked, 
looking both confused and a little worried.
     "Yes," Martha replied, "all three of them."  Seeing Lois's 
look of concern deepen, she added, "And you'll do fine with all 
of them, Lois!  Once that baby is in your arms, you'll be amazed 
at how instinct just takes over.  Why, the day that we found 
Clark ..."
     "That's not really what I was worried about, Martha." Lois 
interjected suddenly.  "Oh, I mean I was worried about that part, 
at least a little bit, but I think I'll be fine with it."  Martha 
waited patiently as Lois worked her way through a verbal maze of 
her own making.  When Lois approached her point via a circuitous 
route like this one, it could only mean that the issue involved 
was one that she'd been ruminating over seriously, and probably 
for a long time.
     "The baby will be so tiny and helpless and dependent," Lois 
continued, "and I'm afraid -- "  Martha leaned forward as Lois's 
voice became softer.  "I'm afraid that I might start to resent 
giving up my career ... and ... I want this baby so badly, every 
bit as badly as Clark does, but what if afterward I start to feel 
that I sacrificed one for the other?"  Lois surreptitiously 
swiped at her cheek with the sleeper, brushing away what looked 
suspiciously like a tear.
     "Lois!  I didn't know that you planned to give up 
reporting!  Is that what you and Clark decided?" Martha asked 
aghast, trying her best not to show her astonishment.
     "Nnnoo ... ," Lois said, with a quiet little sniff, "I plan 
to go back to work in three months, when my maternity leave is 
over.  But I don't know how it can ever be the same.  I won't be 
able to run out at any hour to meet a source -- what if I left 
the baby with Clark, and there was an emergency, like the 
earthquake today?  Clark would have to choose between leaving the 
baby alone, or letting hundreds or thousands of people die 
because Superman wouldn't be there to help.  I can't do that to 
him!"
     "Have you talked to Clark about this?"  Martha asked softy.
     "Not really," Lois replied, looking down at the tabletop,  
"I felt so selfish for thinking that way, that I just kept 
putting it off, and now the baby's here, and it's too late."
     "Too late?" Martha asked.  "Too late for what?  I suppose 
it *is* too late to decide you don't want to have children, but I 
don't think that it's too late for anything else."
     Lois looked up at Martha, and answered, "I can't 
shortchange my baby, and I can't deprive the world of Superman, 
so I guess it's my career that has to be sacrificed."
     "That's just silly, Lois!" Martha replied, with some force.  
"Being a good mother takes some sacrifices, but it doesn't mean 
being a martyr for your child.  That wouldn't be good for you or 
for the baby!  Raising a child to feel that he or she is the 
center of the universe isn't healthy.  Not for the child and not 
for the universe!  Not even," Martha smiled at Lois, "if he *is* 
my grandchild."
     Lois looked at Martha, a little wide-eyed at what she was 
hearing.  Martha continued.  "This isn't the first time you've 
had to overcome your fears about a relationship, Lois.  After you 
found out that Clark was Superman, you had some doubts that 
things would work out.  And you weren't sure that marriage was in 
the cards for the two of you either, were you?"
     Lois shook her head, "No," she replied quietly, "I wasn't."
     "But you discovered that you and Clark together," Martha 
began, "were ..."
     "...  were stronger than either of us alone."  Lois 
finished for her, with the hint of a smile returning to her face.
     "You and Clark looked at some of these issues even before 
you married," Martha continued.  "You were the one who comforted 
Superman when he first realized that he couldn't save everyone.  
You kept him from giving up when you told him that whatever he 
*could* do was enough.  You're a strong person, Lois, and you've 
always managed to meet or exceed any goals that you set for 
yourself.  Maybe you need to give Lois Lane that same 
encouragement, and that same permission to fail occasionally."
     "I don't like to fail," Lois said with a small pout.  "I 
still want to win that Pulitzer."
     "There's nothing wrong with wanting to have it all," Martha 
replied, "as long as you realize that it doesn't mean having it 
all at the *same* time.  Do you remember that evening you and 
Clark and Jonathan and I were talking about books we'd especially 
enjoyed?"
     Lois nodded, "Yes.  We were amazed at the similarities and 
differences in each other's choices.  It didn't surprise me that 
Jonathan liked Zane Grey, but I never would have guessed that as 
a child he enjoyed reading Nancy Drew."
     Martha chuckled, "Jonathan has surprised me any number of 
times with the range of his interests.  But do you remember that 
everyone mentioned 'Gone With the Wind' as a favorite?"
     Lois nodded again, not certain where the discussion was 
leading.  "That novel won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1937.  
The book's author, Margaret Mitchell was a newspaper reporter, 
too, in the 1920s, but you probably already know that."
     More confused than ever, Lois mumbled an affirmative and 
Martha continued, "Mitchell spent more than ten years writing her 
novel.  She worked in bits and spurts, writing for a few days or 
a few months, then not working on it for weeks or months at a 
time.  She felt that she had responsibilities to her husband, her 
family, her friends, civic responsibilities, and responsibilities 
to herself.  All of those things were important parts of her 
life.  In a way, I suppose you could say she 'had it all.'  She 
just had it all at different points in her life, but I don't 
think that diminishes her achievement in any way, do you?"
     Lois grinned, now understanding Martha's point.  "And they 
accuse *me* of babbling!" she said to herself.  "Thank you, 
Martha," Lois said confidently, looking more relaxed despite the 
increasing frequency of her contractions.  "I don't know what 
we'd do without you and Jonathan."
     "That's what we're here for, Lois" Martha replied, 
"Jonathan and I are always happy to help our children."

* * * * * * * * * *
LOS ANGELES:  7:30 p.m. (10:30 p.m. EDT)

     The biggest chunks of shattered roadway had been cleared 
from the two levels of the stack, and Superman had brought out 
the last vehicle, an open-topped Jeep, whose roll bar had never 
been designed to withstand a collapsing overpass.  He was 
carrying the last victim to the ambulance that was functioning as 
a temporary morgue when the head of the emergency team, a gray-
haired man in his late forties, fell in step beside him.  
"Superman, I want to thank you for your help this afternoon."
     Numbly, Superman nodded and continued plodding to the 
ambulance, only relinquishing his grisly burden when the EMTs 
directed him to lay the smashed body on a stretcher.  He had 
delayed long enough to recover the dead as well as the living, 
knowing that the emergency workers would have risked their lives 
searching through the collapsed roadway if he hadn't done so.  
But the long exposure to sudden, violent death left him shaking 
inside, consumed with the need to hold his wife and feel her 
living flesh against his, to feel his child moving within her.  
He needed to draw strength from her vitality, to remember why he 
kept trying, to rekindle that hope for the future that their 
child represented for him.
     Yet he wasn't the only husband and father who longed to be 
home with his family, and he swallowed back his desperate desire 
to fly away and said, "I haven't heard what else has been 
happening.  Is there some other emergency like this?"
     The older man looked at the superhero's face for a long 
moment.  Maybe he saw something in the younger man's expression; 
maybe he just knew how it felt to bring out fifty-seven dead 
bodies, children among them.  For whatever reason, he said, "This 
was the worst of it.  We've got everything else pretty much under 
control."
     He smiled faintly and continued, "Not that we wouldn't 
welcome some more super-help if you want to stick around ..."
     Superman was already shaking his head.  "I'm needed 
elsewhere."
     The emergency coordinator stuck out his hand.  "Then, thank 
you, Superman.  You made a difference for a lot of people today."
     "Thanks," Superman managed, gripping the older man's hand.  
He stepped away and lifted effortlessly into the air.  "I 
couldn't have done it without all of your help.  Thank everyone 
for me, please."
     The other man nodded and watched in awe as Superman took 
off at such speed that he seemed to vanish.  Thank God for an 
angel in blue and red he thought and turned back to the ambulance 
where the rest of his team waited.  In the distance, he heard the 
faint wail of a fire siren, and a gust of wind stirred up the 
concrete dust as he climbed into the ambulance.
     "Let's get out of here," he said.

* * * * * * * * * *

     Jimmy and Sarah arrived at Minear Avenue and saw the 
collapsed highway in the distance.  "Look, there's Superman!"  
Sarah pointed to a caped figure, who stood talking to one of the 
rescue workers.  Jimmy began running to try to greet the super-
hero but before he got close enough, Superman rose into the air, 
and disappeared into the sky.
     "Oh," Jimmy said, disappointed.
     Seconds later Jimmy heard a cry for help.  "Help me!  
Somebody!"   The noise came from a two-story apartment building 
that appeared to look all right from the outside.
     "Hold this," Jimmy said, passing his notepad and camera to 
Sarah.  "I'm going in."
     "Why don't you just call the rescue crew?" Sarah asked, but 
by the time she said it, Jimmy was gone.  She shook her head.
     Inside, the building still looked fine.  Jimmy ran up the 
stairs to the second floor, where the cries originated.  As Jimmy 
ascended, he could hear a woman crying, as well as the cries of 
children.  He moved down the hallway until he found the apartment 
where the cries were coming from.
     "Hey, what's the problem?" he yelled.
     "We can't get out!  The doorway is blocked," the woman 
called from inside the apartment.
     Jimmy tried the door, but it was locked.  "Can you push 
your key under the door?" he asked?  "Get a yardstick or 
something if you need to."
     It seemed like forever, but eventually he saw a bit of 
silver sliding under the door.  He reached down and picked up the 
key.  He then immediately unlocked the door and pulled it open.
     As the door opened, he jumped back when books crashed down 
on his head.  Two heavy bookcases had fallen over, blocking the 
doorway.  When the door was opened, the books fell to the ground.  
Jimmy picked up the books, and then was able to push the shelves 
back up.
     He was glad he had stopped to help when he saw that the 
woman in the apartment was pregnant -- at least as pregnant as 
Lois.  She also had two small children in her arms.  She thanked 
Jimmy profusely, explaining that she and her children had been 
watching Superman's rescue efforts, expecting he'd come rescue 
them when he was done at the highway.  When they saw him fly off 
suddenly, they knew they needed to cry for help.
     "Never fear, Jimmy Olsen is here," Jimmy chanted happily.  
Jimmy held a child in one arm and escorted the grateful woman 
with his other arm.  Once they were outside, Sarah returned his 
notes and camera to him amid the woman's words of thanks.  The 
two of them took off again, heading toward the city's business 
section.

* * * * * * * * * *
348 HYPERION STREET, METROPOLIS.  10:30 pm

     Clark wasted no time returning to Metropolis.  He flew in 
the bedroom window, quickly spinning out of his dirty suit and 
into an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt.  He rubbed his eyes as 
he headed for the stairs.  The hours spent helping with the 
earthquake had been both physically and emotionally draining, but 
as much as his body craved a hot shower and a nap, his heart 
needed his wife more.
     "Lois?" he called down the stairs.  It was not, however, 
his wife's voice that answered back.
     "Clark, we're down here," he heard Martha say as he reached 
the bottom of the stairs.
     In the living room, Lois was pacing slowly around the 
couch, her breathing slow and deep.  After a few seconds, she 
stopped and looked up, smiling at Clark.  It took him only a 
second to realize what had just happened.
     "You're in labor?" he asked, his eyes wide with panic and 
concern.
     At the look on his face, both Lois and Martha began 
laughing.  Lois walked up to him and gave him a soft kiss on the 
lips.  "Honey, I'm *fine*!"  When she saw he wasn't convinced, 
she continued.  "Clark, I am really OK.  My contractions are 
twenty minutes apart, and except for the half minute they last, I 
feel fine."  Her smile widened.  "Clark, we're going to have our 
baby!"
     Clark smiled softly at her excitement, his hand reaching up 
to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear before falling to rub 
her stomach gently.  Lois could see that something was troubling 
him, and a quick glance at Martha told her that her mother-in-law 
was thinking the same.  "Um, Clark," Martha said, walking over to 
the couple.  "Why don't you and Lois go into the kitchen and get 
a snack?  You'll both need your strength later."
     "That's a good idea, Martha," Lois said, smiling gratefully 
at the older woman.  She led Clark into the kitchen and headed 
for the table.
     Clark walked over to the cabinet.  "You want some of that 
raspberry tea, honey?"
     Lois settled into a chair, then looked at him.  "Clark, 
spill it."
     Clark stopped rummaging through the cabinets long enough to 
say, "Spill what?"
     "Tell me what's wrong.  Why do you look so sad?  We're 
finally having our baby, Clark. You should be excited."
     Clark sighed and turned to face her, leaning against the 
counter.  "I know, Lois, and I am.  It's just ..."
     "Clark, what is it?" Lois asked in a slightly exasperated 
tone.
     Clark looked down at the floor before answering in a low 
voice.  "I wasn't here."  When he looked up at her, Lois could 
see tears forming in his eyes.  "I missed part of it."
     The sadness in Clark's eyes wrenched Lois's heart, and she 
had to struggle to keep her own tears in check.  Reaching out a 
hand to him, she said, "Come here."  He crossed the room and took 
her hand, kneeling in front of her.  "You're here now.  That's 
what's important."
     Clark absently rubbed her knee with his hand before raising 
slightly to sit in the chair next to her.  "In my head, I know 
that.  I know that I had to go and help those people.  But Lois, 
all my life, I've felt like I've been missing out on things.  
That because I was running off saving other people's lives, I was 
missing my own."
     He paused for a moment and sighed, collecting his thoughts.  
"When I was in high school, I dreamed of going to Metropolis U.  
It was the best journalism school in the country, and I was sure 
I could get in.  The only way my parents could afford to send me 
somewhere out of state was for me to get a scholarship, but I was 
positive I could get it.  When the morning of the SATs came, I 
was a few minutes early, so I was sitting outside the building.  
That's when I heard the people in a car down the street.  Their 
brakes had gone out and they were heading right for an 
intersection where several cars were.  I didn't even think.  I 
just took off running toward the car.   I managed to stop it 
right before it reached the intersection and get out of there 
before anyone saw me.  Afterward, I hid behind a tree for a 
minute and watched the couple in the car.  They were young, and 
had a baby with them, and I knew that I had just saved their 
lives.  It felt so good.  It was the first time that I had really 
been able to use my powers to help people.  But by the time I got 
back to the building, the test had already started and the 
proctor wouldn't let me in.  I couldn't take it again for several 
months, and by then, it was past the deadline for the big 
scholarship."
     Lois touched his hand and broke him from his reverie.  He 
looked up at her.  "It was that day that I realized what these 
powers really meant.  What I was giving up.  I mean, I know it 
all worked out great, but at that moment, all I could think of 
was that I had just missed one of the most important events of my 
life, and that I was never going to get that back."
     Lois brought his hand up to her lips, placing a kiss in his 
palm.  "Clark, I know that sometimes, it must seem like you miss 
a lot by being Superman.  But you are always here for the 
important stuff."  She smiled at him, laughing a little.  "You 
were here for all three of our weddings."  He grinned at her, 
stroking her hand lightly with his thumb.  "And you were here for 
our honeymoon," she added with a gleam in her eye.  Her gaze then 
turned serious, and she reached up to touch his face.  "Clark, 
sometimes the world is going to need you.  We may not like it, 
but that's how it is.  But you are always here when it really 
counts."
     She reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek, then 
returned her hand to Clark's face.  "Remember what you told me 
once?  That you always come back?"
     Clark smiled at the memory.  "I always will," he said.
     Lois reached down and laid one hand on her stomach.  "And 
we'll always be here waiting."  Leaning forward slightly, she 
kissed him softly on the lips, then sat back with a mischievous 
grin on her face.  "Now, where is that raspberry tea you were 
going to make me?"  Clark laughed, then got up to fix them a 
snack.

* * * * * * * * * *
LOS ANGELES:  7:50 p.m. (10:50 p.m. EDT)

     Jimmy Olsen was starting to feel hungry.  It seemed like 
forever since he'd run out of Sarah's apartment, although it had 
really only been five hours ago.  But five hours without eating 
seemed like a long time to him, and it was way past dinner time.  
The sky was darkening, and a few stars were visible.  He could 
still hear sirens moving throughout the city, but now, instead of 
looking for a story, he began looking for a restaurant.
     Suddenly there was a large bang. Jimmy jumped and looked 
behind him.  A huge cloud of black smoke was rising into the air, 
and the acrid smell burned his nostrils.  As Jimmy and Sarah 
looked up into the sky behind them, and despite the time of day, 
it looked like the entire area a few blocks away was completely 
illuminated.
     "I didn't know there was a fire!" Jimmy exclaimed.  "This 
is hot!  No pun intended."
     "Wait ..." Sarah said.  "Do you think Superman knows about 
this?  I mean, we did see him flying off ..."
     "Good call," Jimmy said.  "I think this calls for use of my 
special pager."  Jimmy pulled it out and hit the button.  He gave 
the pager a closer look, frowning.  "Oh, *no*!" Jimmy complained.
     "What?  What's wrong?" Sarah asked.
     "I accidentally picked up *your* pager -- your *regular* 
pager!  I can't summon Superman with this.  Mine must be back at 
your apartment.  And we'd have a ways to go to get back there," 
Jimmy said.
     "Maybe we could just call for help?  You know -- 'Help, 
Superman' and all that?" Sarah asked.
     "No," Jimmy answered.  "If he's still in town, I don't want 
to distract him so he thinks *we're* in danger."  Jimmy again 
looked up at the sky, which was turning a bright crimson.  "This 
is getting scary."
     Despite his fear, Jimmy did what he had been doing a lot 
lately -- he went right to the problem.  Jimmy ran to a bicycle 
shop that was just down the street.  The large display window was 
broken.  The glass on the ground crunched under his feet.  
Without a second thought, he lifted two bicycles from the display 
and set them in the street.   
     "Come on," Jimmy said.  "We're riding downtown."

* * * * * * * * * *
348 HYPERION STREET, METROPOLIS.  11:00 p.m.

     Clark watched Lois as she walked off another contraction.  
It was the second one she'd had since he had returned home.  His 
mind was reeling with all the techniques he'd learned in their 
childbirth classes to help Lois relax and get through the 
contractions, but it was obvious that at this point she didn't 
need any help.  He smiled.  Part of him was terrified at the 
thought of the upcoming ordeal; the other part couldn't wait to 
finish the pregnancy and finally have a baby.
     The phone rang a few minutes later, and Lois answered it.  
"Hello? ... Oh, hi, Mother ... No, we're still up, probably won't 
be going to bed for a while.  Why? ... Sure, come over tonight 
... No, it won't be a problem ... See you.  Bye."
     When Lois hung up the phone, she looked at the three Kents.  
"My mother was shopping over at Zabel's, the big discount 
warehouse store.  Anyway, they had a huge sale on frozen entrees, 
and she bought us some, seeing as how we won't have time to cook 
once the baby comes.  She wants to drop them off tonight, so we 
can put them right in our freezer."
     "Well, it doesn't look like anyone will be getting much 
sleep tonight, so I guess that's OK," Martha said.  
     Suddenly Clark stood up, a familiar look upon his face.
     "What now?"  Lois wasn't sure she wanted to know the 
answer.
     "The television news" he answered, and all four of them 
hurried into the living room, where the television had been left 
on.  Their eyes widened as they looked at the scene.  Los Angeles 
was burning.  It took Lois only a second to make up her mind.
     "Go!" she told him.
     Clark turned to her, indecision evident in his face.  "But, 
Lois --" he began.
     "I'll be fine.  This is early labor; we both know it can 
last for hours.  Twelve or sixteen.  There could be people dying 
there!  Go!"
     Clark hesitated another moment, then he reached out and 
touched her cheek.  "I'll be back," he promised.  "I'll be back 
as soon as I can."
     Lois nodded.  She had no doubt of that.  A second later he 
was gone.

* * * * * * * * * *
LOS ANGELES:  8:05 p.m. (11:05 p.m. EDT)

     Evening had arrived in LA while Superman was in Metropolis, 
and the orange glare of flames was visible through the murky 
cloud of smog.  At least this time he didn't have to wait for an 
emergency call to tell him where the trouble spots were.  He saw 
several fires burning in one small area, and he swooped toward 
it.  The water mains had broken in the earthquake, and without 
water, the fire department wasn't able to fight multiple fires.
     A quick glance down the street showed him that most of the 
fires were burning in a small business district where the shops 
had closed several hours before.  He felt a pang of sympathy for 
the business owners, knowing how devastating a fire could be to a 
small, marginal business, but when he looked the other direction, 
he forgot all about property damage.  He hurtled through the 
darkening sky to the old-fashioned wooden building where flames 
were sticking their fiery heads out the roof and he could hear 
panicky cries.
     The staff of the assisted living center was trying to move 
residents out of the building, but too many of the occupants 
couldn't get around without help.  In the hot, gusting wind, the 
fire was progressing faster than the evacuation was.  Superman 
dropped down beside a frantic nurse aide who was trying to get 
her confused, struggling patient to let go of her and sit down so 
she could return to the center for another resident.  "Oh, 
Superman, thank God!" she exclaimed in a typical greeting.
     He didn't waste time on pleasantries but gently removed the 
old man's clinging hands from the aide's plump, muscular arms.  
"Are there any residents on the top floor?"
     "Yes," she gasped, hurrying back to the front door against 
the wind.  "And, thanks."  But he was already gone in a hurricane 
rush of wind, aiming for an open window on the third floor.
     Superman landed inside and scanned the rooms on the floor.  
Smoke hung in a dense curtain from the ceiling, and heat and 
sparks blasted at the invulnerable skin of his face and hands.  
Above his head, the fire roared, crackling sharply as it devoured 
the roof supports, but the rooms were empty -- 
      -- except one.
     Whipping into the apparently empty bathroom, Superman 
stopped and pulled back the shower curtain to reveal a young 
woman crouching fully clothed in the corner.  The tumult of the 
flames had grown louder in the moment since he entered the 
building, and when he stepped toward the bathtub, the terrified 
woman cowered away from him, afraid of a stranger invading her 
hiding place, afraid of the fire.
     Her eyes were confused, and she coughed as the smoke flowed 
in through the open door.  He extended his hand slowly, as to a 
frightened animal.  "I'm a friend," he said calmly.  "Will you 
come with me?"
     He didn't dare take his eyes off her to follow the progress 
of the fire or let his friendly, reassuring expression show any 
tension or uncertainty.  "Come with me," he said, continuing to 
hold out his hand.
     He saw the indecision in her face; then she set her hand in 
his, and he closed his fingers around hers.  "Come with me," he 
repeated, and she shuffled out of the bathtub.
     Once she stood beside him, he risked a quick scan of the 
ceiling.  There was no time left.  The roof joists were burning 
through above them and flame licked across the ceiling.  "Hold 
on," he told her and, scooping her into his arms, shot out of the 
bathroom and down the hall to the window.
     Outside, the wind was hurling dirt and grit at the milling, 
bewildered residents.  Superman gently loosened his passenger's 
death grip around his neck and set her on the grass.  Around him, 
staff members were assisting residents in wheelchairs from the 
first floor.  He took a moment to scan the second floor, then 
rocketed through the nearest window, pulverizing the glass as he 
passed through it.
     For the next few minutes, he carried out people who had 
gone to their rooms after dinner.  Most of them recognized him 
and were relieved and eager for him to fly them out of the 
building, and he was able to evacuate the second floor very 
quickly.
     By the time he brought out the last old man and set him 
down on his frail, trembling legs, the center's staff had cleared 
the main floor.  A staff member hurried over to help the old man, 
and Superman turned to scan the entire building once more.  
Everyone was safely outside, but the fire continued to devour the 
second floor, and by the sound, the fire trucks were still 
several minutes away.
     Reluctantly, he pushed the thought of returning home to 
Lois to the back of his mind and soared over the building where 
he could get a clear view of the fire.  The increasingly fierce 
winds were whipping the flames higher, and they had nearly eaten 
through the roof.  Starting at one end, Superman tackled the 
blaze, drawing energy from the heated air and breathing out 
bitter cold to drop the flames below combustion temperature.  
Over and over, he blew enormous lung-fulls of super-cooled air 
onto the fire, and gradually, the flames retreated before him.
     In the meantime, a pumper truck and hook-and-ladder truck 
arrived, and the firemen scurried around, setting up their hoses.  
Between the gusting winds and the uneven pressure from the pumper 
truck, their aim was erratic at first, but after a few minutes, a 
stream of water was spurting onto the opposite end of the roof.  
Superman would have smiled in relief if he hadn't been so busy 
putting out the fire.  The sooner this blaze was out, the sooner 
he could go home and be with Lois.
     Once he was sure that the fire department had the 
conflagration under control, Superman landed beside the fire 
chief, who held out his hand in greeting.  "Superman, I'm glad to 
finally meet you."
     That was a change from the more usual, "Superman, thank 
God," which was a good indication that he was no longer needed 
here.  The superhero shook the chief's hand.  "I'll check on the 
fires down the block," he said, when the howl of a hurricane-
force wind and a coughing boom cut him off.
     "Supe -- " the fire chief began, jerking around to look at 
the sound behind him, but Superman was already gone.

* * * * * * * * * *
348 HYPERION STREET, METROPOLIS.  11:20 p.m.

     About twenty minutes after Clark left, the Lanes arrived.  
Ellen set two large paper bags down on the floor and went over to 
hug Martha.  Sam entered more slowly, carrying two more bags.  
Lois wondered briefly how all of this would fit in her freezer.  
She started to pick up one of the bags, when she felt another 
contraction beginning.  She tried to stand still and be 
inconspicuous, but her body didn't want to stand still, and she 
began pacing in the small entryway.
     At first Ellen continued talking to Martha and Jonathan 
without taking any notice, but she soon noticed Lois's strange 
behavior.  After a few more seconds, Lois stopped pacing and 
smiled, placing her hands on her bulge and rubbing gently.  Ellen 
blinked.
     "Lois," she demanded.  "What's going on?  Was that a 
contraction?"
     Lois's smile broadened.  "Yes, it was.  I've been having 
these contractions about every twenty minutes for four hours now.  
Isn't it wonderful?"
     Ellen's eyes opened wide in surprise, and she stared at 
Lois in horror.  "Lois!  Shouldn't we be on the way to the 
hospital?  Have you called your doctor?"
     Lois looked at her mother.  "Yes, mother, I've called the 
doctors.  They said to make sure it wasn't false labor and to 
call them back when the contractions were lasting at least one 
minute and were four minutes apart and it had been that way for 
at least an hour.  Right now they're lasting about thirty seconds 
and are twenty minutes apart.  So we have a while to wait."
     Ellen wasn't mollified.  "Things can happen fast; I 
remember.  Are you ready?  Do you have everything you need?"
     Lois sighed.  Her mother would never change.  "Mother, 
Clark and I have been preparing for this baby for nine months 
now.  The suitcase is packed; the labor bag is ready.  I've been 
drinking raspberry tea until I never want to see another 
raspberry.  I've been doing my Kegel exercises, my relaxation 
exercises, and everything else, and all there is to do now is 
wait."
     "What about your breathing?" Ellen demanded.  "I still 
remember how.  Hoo, Hoo, Hah!"  She proceeded to demonstrate.  
"C'mon Lois, breathe with me.  Hoo, Hoo, Hah!"
     "Mother," Lois began but Ellen continued panting.  
"Mother!"  she repeated in another attempt to get her attention.  
Ellen stopped and looked at her.  "Mother," Lois said calmly.  
"Breathing is Lamaze; Clark and I are using the Bradley Method."
     "Bradley?  What's Bradley?  I never heard of it."
     Lois gave up.  "Childbirth classes, Mother.  Like Lamaze, 
only different.  Bradley doesn't do patterned breathing; we're 
taught to relax and yield to our instincts."
     "It also teaches women to argue more with their doctors," 
Sam muttered under his breath.
     Ellen started at her husband for a second.  "Well, I'm sure 
Lois didn't need any help with *that,*" she replied tartly.  
Martha hid a smile in her coffee cup.  She had been thinking the 
same thing.
     "Now, Lois," Ellen continued.  "Where's your suitcase?  
I'll put it in the car."   Ellen paused as Lois sat down with an 
audible sigh.  "Don't roll your eyes at me like that, young lady.  
I've had two babies; things can happen fast, and *you* don't know 
how confused you'll be shortly, or how much pain you'll be in.  
Didn't you find it that way, Martha?"
     There was a sudden silence as everyone looked at Martha.  
Lois tried desperately to remember if anyone had ever mentioned 
to her parents that Clark was adopted.  Obviously not.  It wasn't 
a secret, exactly, but it wasn't anything they tended to talk 
about either.
     Martha sat up a little straighter and gave Lois a 
reassuring smile.  Then she looked at Ellen.  "One thing I've 
learned is that childbirth is different for every woman, and that 
every birth is a wondrous creation."
     Lois smiled slightly.  "I hope it will be wonderful.  Clark 
and I did all the Bradley classes -- twelve weeks worth -- and I 
have talked things out with my doctors.  I wrote a birth plan, 
telling them how I want things to go.  I included every possible 
complication -- even the incredibly rare complications.  I've 
done everything I can think of to prepare for having this baby.  
All there is to do now is wait."
     Ellen spoke up.  "Lois, having a baby isn't something you 
can control.  It controls you.  The only thing you can control is 
the environment, and that's why you should get to the hospital as 
soon as possible."
     "That's why I should stay here," Lois responded.  "I'm in 
control here; I won't be in the hospital.  Besides, Clark isn't 
home yet."  Lois stood up and picked up the bags her mother had 
brought.  "Are these the frozen casseroles you bought?  I'll go 
put them in the freezer."  As she headed toward the kitchen, she 
turned and looked back.  "Are you leaving soon, or would you like 
a cup of coffee?"
     Ellen looked at her in disbelief.  "There is *no way* I am 
leaving here when you are in labor," she announced.  Sam gave a 
slight sigh and sat down on the sofa.
     "I'll go make another pot," said Lois, as she walked into 
the kitchen.
     Sam Lane stared up at the ceiling.  He knew Lois was a 
grown woman, married, but she was still his little girl and it 
was hard to believe that the adorable child he remembered was 
going to become a mother soon.  He knew from his medical training 
how difficult childbirth could be, and he hated to think of her 
in pain.  Lois was stubborn, and he knew from previous 
conversations with her that she was determined to have the baby 
naturally, without medication.  He also knew, perhaps better than 
Lois did herself, how frightened she was.  There were very few 
moments when Lois showed her vulnerable side to her father, and 
he felt lucky she had been able to confide in him.
     "Daddy, are you OK?" Lois asked.
     Sam suddenly snapped back to reality, and saw Lois had come 
back into the room and was looking at him, concerned.  "I'm all 
right, pumpkin.  I was just remembering your childhood.  And all 
the times I saw that determined look on your face."
     "Sam, you were hardly there for Lois when she was a child," 
Ellen pointed out with a roll of her eyes, a gesture that was 
reminiscent of her eldest daughter's.  "You worked all hours of 
the day, and you moved out when she was barely a teenager."
     "Mother," Lois admonished quietly.  She wasn't in the mood 
for another argument between her parents -- not tonight.
     "Actually, I was thinking of the time when Lois came to 
live with me," Sam said.  "It was her senior year.  And I 
remember why she came to live with me.  You, Ellen, moved to a 
different part of town, and Lois wanted to stay at Metropolis 
High School."
     "That's right," Lois said, remembering with a smile.  "I 
had just been appointed editor of the paper, and there was no way 
I was going to transfer schools."
     "Anyway," Sam continued, "I was adamant about Lois being a 
doctor.  I used to bring her to the gyms with me, and instead of 
watching me work, she would watch the fights."
     "It was no place for a seventeen-year-old girl," Ellen 
mumbled.  But neither Lois nor Sam heard her.
     "Oh, and the guys got me into tae-kwon-do," Lois said.  She 
almost felt the excitement of the gym atmosphere in her bones.  
"That's when I started to take martial arts lessons," she told 
Martha and Jonathan.
     "I thought she was interested in all the wrong things," Sam 
said.  "She was quite the journalist, even in those days.  She 
told me she wanted to attend Metropolis University -- one of the 
best colleges for journalism, even now."
     "But I was stubborn.  I wanted her to be a doctor.  In 
fact, I had decided not to pay her tuition unless she majored in 
medicine."
     "And Lois never would have taken up medicine," Ellen said.  
"She just wasn't interested."