Lois and Clark Getting to Know You

Getting To Know You  
By Nan Smith hachiban@earthlink.net  
Rated: PG  
Submitted: March 2002  
  
Disclaimer: The familiar characters and settings in this   
story are not mine. They belong to DC Comics, Warner   
Bros., December 3rd Productions and whomever else can   
legally lay claim to them, nor am I profiting by their use.   
Certain scenes and dialogue from the Lois and Clark episode   
"Top Copy" are included in this story and are hereby   
credited to the writers of the show. Anything else is   
mine.   
  
Thanks to those who commented on this story when it was   
being posted on the Message Boards and my special thanks to   
Pam Jernigan, who allowed me to use her idea about Rolf and   
the car. It definitely added to the story. g.   
  
**********  
  
From the ending of "Mystery":  
  
Clark's head came up suddenly. "Oh, oh."  
  
Lois quirked an eyebrow at him "This would be one of those   
times you had to return a video, right?"  
  
"There's a fire at the Metropolitan Building Penthouse. I   
better go." He got to his feet. "I'll be back as soon as   
I can."  
  
"Go," she said. "I'll be here."  
  
He was gone in a gust of air. She leaned back in her chair   
to wait, absently contemplating her move, but her thoughts   
were more on her amazing partner. She'd thought, until the   
events of this weekend, that these sudden departures to   
return a video or library book were his way of avoiding   
personal issues. The real reason was so different from any   
she had imagined that it was breathtaking.   
  
Now she knew that, no matter how often he had to run away,   
he would always come back to her as long as she wanted him   
to. There were still things they had to work out, although   
they had had several long talks over the past three days,   
but she was already sure that she always would want him to   
come back. She had her doubts about whether she could be   
an equal partner to Superman, but he seemed to think that   
she already was. Maybe he was right. Time would tell.  
  
"Hey, Lane! Where's Kent? He off returning a library book   
again?" That was Ralph, on his way toward the elevators.   
He'd remarked on Clark's faulty memory several times in the   
weeks since he'd been hired, but he'd also expressed envy   
at the ability of Lane and Kent to always be in the right   
place at the right time to land the big scoops. She   
laughed to herself.   
  
If he only knew.  
  
**********  
  
It was nearly half an hour before Clark returned.   
  
Lois was glancing at her watch for the third time when she   
heard the door to the stairs open. One of the wall   
monitors was on, showing the Metropolitan Building   
Penthouse and the firefighters swarming around the towering   
structure. The flames had been extinguished a good ten   
minutes before, so where was Clark?  
  
As she thought that, the sound of the door opening made her   
raise her head to see him entering the newsroom, absently   
rubbing his neck. Lois relaxed. This was a new part to   
their relationship to which she was going to have to adjust   
but at least now, she knew where he was running off to. It   
had been an almost unreal feeling to watch the scenes on   
the monitor and realize that it had been her quiet,   
unassuming partner who had caught the tiny, plummeting   
figure that had been barely visible on the screen.  
  
"How did it go?" she asked.  
  
"Fine. Superman saved the day again. Give me a minute and   
I'll write up the interview for the morning edition." He   
dropped into his desk chair and an instant later, his   
fingers were flying over the keyboard.  
  
Lois glanced around to be sure that no one on the night   
staff had noticed but, of course, they hadn't. Ben Jacobs   
was pouring himself a cup of coffee and Harry Williams was   
sitting at his desk, his back to them, absently shooting   
rubber bands at his wastebasket. Nobody else was even   
visible.   
  
It only took a few minutes. He finished and transmitted   
the item to the editor's computer and then shut his own   
machine down. "Are you ready to go?"  
  
She nodded. "What happened at the--you know?"  
  
He rubbed his neck again. "I put out the fire, but it was   
kind of a weird situation."  
  
"Weird? How?"  
  
He removed her coat from the rack and held it for her.   
"Well..."  
  
She slipped her arms into the garment and reached for her   
crutches, but he had already retrieved them for her. As   
she positioned them under her arms, he rubbed his neck   
again. "When I got there, there was a woman falling--I   
guess she'd jumped. She turned out to be Diana Stride--the   
host of Top Copy."  
  
"You're kidding!"  
  
"Nope. She and her cameraman--I think his name is Rolf--  
were up there when the fire started."  
  
Lois worked her way slowly up the ramp with Clark walking   
beside her. "What on Earth were *they* doing there?"  
  
"They said they'd gone up to get pictures of the city for a   
piece Top Copy is doing on urban renewal. I guess they   
could have been. It just seemed kind of strange." He   
shrugged. "Do you still want to head over to my place for   
dinner? It's only about eight."  
  
"I guess--if it isn't any trouble for you."  
  
Clark rang for the elevator. "Remember who you're talking   
to, Lois. I was thinking about getting some Chinese   
takeout. There's this little place I know in Shanghai that   
has some of the best Chinese food you've ever tasted.   
Literally."  
  
"Literally?" She frowned slightly, trying to figure that   
one out. "Wait a minute! Not the Chinese food you brought   
me, not long after you first came to work at the Planet?"  
  
He nodded, looking innocent. She laughed suddenly. "I   
have the feeling I'm going to be finding out about things   
you've done that I didn't know about at the time, for   
months to come."  
  
"Well, it was your idea for me to give you clues and see if   
you can guess which incident I'm talking about. So far,   
you've been right on the ball."  
  
The elevator doors opened and he held them carefully while   
she maneuvered her way inside. "I'll be awfully glad when   
Dr. Killian lets me switch to an athletic cast."  
  
"Don't blame you," he said. He punched the indicator for   
the first floor. "Don't rush it, though. You don't want   
to have trouble with that ankle for the rest of your life."  
  
"Yeah." She glanced at his hands, where the only traces   
left of their ordeal in the mine were the fingernails that   
he had torn during his Herculean efforts to get them out.   
"It's not fair, you know. You heal in seconds, and it   
takes me weeks. Which reminds me, how on Earth do you ever   
give yourself a manicure? Wouldn't a file break if you   
tried to file your nails?"  
  
"Well, maybe not break but I'd wear out the file before it   
made a dent in the nail," he agreed. "I trim my nails the   
same way I cut my hair and shave--with my heat vision. As   
soon as they grow out, I'll trim them and they'll be fine."   
  
"Someday I'd like to watch you cut your hair," she said.   
"It's funny, you know. I knew Superman was invulnerable,   
but it never occurred to me before to wonder how he   
shaved."  
  
"Well, now you know." He rubbed his neck again. "So, will   
Chinese food be okay?"  
  
"Sure--I guess you're not going to phone the order in,   
though."  
  
"No, I think that would be a bit much. I'll just fly over   
as soon as I get you to my place. If you'd like to make   
the tea, I should be back by the time it's done."  
  
"That sounds fair," she agreed. "I guess they know you   
there, huh?"  
  
"Well, they know Clark Kent there. I found the place   
during the time I was in China, not long after I graduated   
from college. I've gone there for really good Chinese   
food, ever since."  
  
The elevator came to a stop with a soft sigh of air and   
they exited. The security guard hurried over to open the   
side door for Lois so she wouldn't have to negotiate the   
revolving doors with her crutches. She smiled at him.   
"Thanks, Bob."  
  
"You're welcome, Ms. Lane." The man smiled back and she   
saw him give Clark an envious look, which her partner   
missed. They went slowly on down the sidewalk to the spot   
where Clark had parked her Cherokee this morning.  
  
"I'll also be glad when I can drive my car again," Lois   
said, continuing the earlier conversation. "I'm not   
supposed to while I'm still taking Dr. Bryant's   
painkiller."  
  
"Does it still hurt, much?" he asked, helping her into the   
passenger seat.  
  
"Some," she admitted. "It swells if I can't elevate it,   
and then it starts to hurt. They said it would get better   
in a few days, though."  
  
"I hope so," Clark said. "Look, when we get to my place,   
just sit down and put your foot up on the ottoman. I'll   
start the tea."  
  
"Clark, I think I can manage for a few minutes. Really,   
I'm not as fragile as you think I am."  
  
Clark didn't look convinced, but he refrained from   
answering as he started the engine and backed out of the   
parking space. Lois leaned back in the seat, just watching   
him.   
  
Looking at him with her new knowledge, she could begin to   
understand how he had been able to fool the entire world   
ever since Superman had first made his debut. It wasn't   
just the glasses or the lack of them, or even the flashy   
costume. It was his whole attitude. Clark was relaxed;   
Superman was always stiff and rather formal. His hairstyle   
was different (what kind of hair gel must he use that could   
stand up to all the things he had to do, she wondered,   
irrelevantly) his posture, his behavior--everything! And,   
although she occasionally saw one of Clark's mannerisms   
emerge in Superman, even then it seemed different from   
Clark's because of all the other factors. But, what was   
really amazing were the few times since his confession in   
the mine that they had been alone in one or the other of   
their apartments and he relaxed completely. That was when   
the real transformation took place and she saw her partner   
as he must be in reality--a blend of his two identities,   
her unassuming, relaxed and sometimes comical partner,   
using his incredible abilities as casually as if it were   
something he did every day--which he probably did, she   
amended. This was the man as he really was, the man only   
his mother and father, up until now, had seen. Just the   
thought of getting to know this new Clark Kent sent a small   
stab of excitement through her, the kind she had felt when   
waking up on Christmas morning in the days when her family   
had still been a real family.   
  
Which brought up another subject. He'd told her that   
Martha and Jonathan had found him and raised him as their   
own son, but she hadn't heard the whole story, yet. It was   
one of the many things he'd promised to tell her when they   
had the time.  
  
It was beginning to snow, very lightly--tiny, glittering   
flakes that melted when they hit the windshield. The   
temperature was probably just about freezing. Clark   
maneuvered through the fairly heavy evening traffic without   
difficulty, and she gave a small laugh as she thought of   
the fact that Superman had found it necessary to learn to   
drive an ordinary car, and earn himself a driver's license.   
  
He glanced at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise.   
"What's so funny?"  
  
She giggled again. "Nothing, really. It just occurred to   
me that Superman is driving my Jeep. You don't even need a   
car!"  
  
He smiled. "No, not now. But I didn't fly until I was   
eighteen. Besides, I had to drive Dad's pickup on the   
farm, not to mention the farm machinery. I wanted to look   
like an ordinary teenager, not a freak; so, I did what   
every other teenager in Smallville did. I took Driver's   
Training in high school and got my license."  
  
"Clark, you're not a freak!"  
  
His smile had faded. "I suppose not, but I didn't know   
that, then. We didn't have any idea where I was from or   
why I was developing all these strange abilities. I was   
desperate to fit in so I had to hide what I could do."  
  
That was appalling. This incredible man had felt like   
*that* while he was growing up? She had always envisioned   
Clark's childhood as the perfect, Norman Rockwell legend:   
loving parents, complete security, nothing like her own   
fractured family. Jonathan and Martha were everything her   
parents weren't. Still, she could see how the appearance   
of Clark's strange abilities could have caused them to   
worry and make him long to be like everyone else, but at   
least, his parents had supported him instead of withdrawing   
when the inexplicable things began to happen. If such a   
thing had happened to her, she wasn't so sure her parents   
would have done the same.   
  
Her thoughts braked to a stop. They hadn't *known*?   
  
"What do you mean, you didn't know where you were from?"  
  
"We didn't," he affirmed. "Mom and Dad found me in the   
ship but they didn't have a clue where I was from. They   
thought I was a Russian experiment or something. None of   
us knew anything until you and I found the Bureau 39   
warehouse and their collection of UFOs. My ship was there,   
and so was the globe. You remember the globe that Jack   
stole from my apartment, don't you?"  
  
Numbly, she nodded.  
  
"It was my ship's navigational system. My real father and   
mother left me a message to tell me where I came from and   
why I was sent to Earth. That was why I was so desperate   
to get it back. It gave me the first--and only--  
information I've ever had about where I came from and why.   
I'd never heard of Krypton before that, or even my original   
name."  
  
This was astounding, Lois thought. "What *is* your name?"  
  
He grinned. "Clark Kent. But my Kryptonian name was Kal-  
El."  
  
"Kal-El." She regarded him for a long moment. "I guess   
you could be a Cal, but you look more like a Clark to me.   
Why were you sent to Earth?"  
  
"To save my life. Krypton blew up. The globe showed me   
the whole thing. I even saw the planet explode. My   
father, Jor-El, and my mother, Lara, built the ship by   
themselves, found Earth and sent me here to where I could   
fit in with the native inhabitants. I doubt they knew   
about the super powers, though. At least, they didn't   
mention anything about them in the message."  
  
Lois stared at him, stunned. She'd come *that* close to   
never knowing Clark and the Earth had come *that* close to   
never having Superman. Two unknown people on another world   
had been desperate to save their son, and from that had   
come the super hero who had appeared just under two years   
before. In fact, they had saved Earth, too, because if   
Clark hadn't been here, the Nightfall asteroid would have   
destroyed them all.  
  
"Wow," she said. This was going to take a while to think   
through. There was so much that she hadn't known about   
Clark--and Superman--and there was probably much more to   
learn.   
  
"Yeah," Clark said, seeming to read her thoughts. "It was   
a lot for me to absorb, too."  
  
He pulled the Jeep to the curb and Lois realized that they   
had arrived at his apartment. She hadn't even noticed.  
  
"Well," she said, "I'm not happy your home world exploded,   
Clark--don't get me wrong. But, if it had to happen, I'm   
glad they sent you here--and not just because of Superman."  
  
"I know." He cut the engine and gave her the key. "But,   
there's one thing you don't understand yet, Lois. I may   
have come from another planet, but I don't remember it. I   
was three months old when Mom and Dad found me. I was   
raised on Earth, and as far as I'm concerned, Earth is my   
home world."   
  
**********  
  
Fortunately, getting into Clark's apartment wasn't   
difficult, even for someone on crutches. Once inside,   
Clark again suggested that she sit down and put her foot up   
while he made the tea, but she pointed out that the faster   
he got to Shanghai, the faster he would be back, and that   
she was starving. He reluctantly gave in and took off to   
get the food.  
  
In the kitchen, Lois filled the teapot with water and set   
it on to boil. Clark had a fairly wide selection of tea   
leaves, and after a moment of consideration, she chose the   
oolong tea.   
  
"Doesn't anyone just drink orange pekoe anymore?" she   
muttered to herself, examining his collection with   
curiosity. Her partner was an interesting set of   
contradictions, a fact that she hadn't noticed until   
recently.   
  
In the beginning, she had thought him to be nothing more   
than a country bumpkin, a hick from the sticks with no   
gloss of city sophistication. She hadn't been interested   
enough to look past the surface, back then. After they had   
become friends, she had begun to see that under the naive,   
country boy was a man who was intelligent, educated, well-  
traveled, and sophisticated in a way that still allowed him   
to somehow keep the values and to a degree, the innocence   
his Kansas upbringing had given him. It was those values   
and the genuine concern for others that she had so admired   
in Superman, yet deprecated in Clark--yet another example,   
as if she needed it, of the way he had managed to   
distinguish one identity from the other, and convince   
everyone else that they were different people.  
  
The whistle of the teakettle brought her out of her   
abstraction and she dropped in the tea leaves, hoping that   
she'd gotten the strength right. Clark, of course,   
couldn't possibly use teabags like everyone else, she   
thought, with amusement.  
  
A characteristic whoosh told her that Clark was back. She   
turned in time to see him emerge from a miniature cyclone,   
dressed in jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt, but without his   
glasses, and stride forward to set a mass of bamboo   
containers on the kitchen table. She could see the steam   
and smell the heavenly aromas that rose from them, and her   
stomach growled reflexively.  
  
Clark grinned. "I see you're ready for the food," he   
remarked, rubbing the side of his neck absently. "How's   
the tea coming?"  
  
"I think it should be ready in a few minutes," she said.   
"That smells wonderful."  
  
"In that case, why don't you sit down on the sofa and put   
your foot up," he said. "I'll set everything out on the   
coffee table and we can eat in there."  
  
She was ready to go along with the suggestion, this time.   
Her ankle was aching, although she had no intention of   
admitting it to him. Within seconds, he had spread the   
feast out on the coffee table and was back in the kitchen,   
checking the tea. "Oolong?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah. I hope I picked the right tea to go with Chinese   
food," she said.  
  
"It's fine," he said. "I think it's about ready, too." He   
appeared in the doorway, teapot and cups in hand. He set   
them out on the table amid the bamboo containers and pulled   
up an armchair.  
  
"There's enough here to feed a small army," Lois remarked,   
starting to spoon the contents onto her plate. "Not that   
I'm objecting."  
  
"That means there'll be plenty of leftovers," Clark said.   
"So, do you have any more questions, or do you want to   
think over the last ones for awhile?"  
  
She bit into a pork roll and closed her eyes, chewing.   
"This is fantastic! Now I know how you're always able to   
find these little family restaurants when no one else can."  
  
He shrugged. "I told the truth," he said. "I just didn't   
mention what country the restaurant was in."  
  
"Like those croissants from the 'little French bakery' that   
time?" she asked.  
  
He grinned. "So, they came from France. I was checking   
out the handprints on that airliner the clone rescued and   
decided to pick up breakfast."  
  
Lois gave a laugh and began to work her way through the   
sweet and sour pork. "You're creating a monster, you   
know," she said, in between bites.   
  
Clark smiled. "I'm not complaining." He rubbed his neck   
again.   
  
Lois swallowed a mouthful of chow mein. "Is something   
wrong, Clark?"  
  
He looked surprised. "Wrong?"  
  
"You keep rubbing your neck. Is it bothering you?"  
  
He opened his mouth and closed it again, frowning. "I...I   
don't know. It's kind of tingling a little. I didn't   
really notice until you mentioned it."  
  
She put down her fork. "Come over here under the light and   
let me see."  
  
He hesitated, then obeyed, coming to sit on the edge of the   
sofa, next to her. Lois pulled the T-shirt back from his   
neck. "Show me where it's tingling."  
  
He ran a finger over the skin. "Here."  
  
Lois examined the spot in the light of the table lamp. "I   
don't see anything, but that doesn't mean much. Have you   
ever felt anything like this before?"  
  
He shook his head. "No, never."  
  
"And this doesn't worry you?" she demanded.  
  
He shrugged. "It'll probably go away," he said. "Nothing   
much can hurt me."  
  
"That's the point! Nothing *should* be able to hurt you,   
so why is your neck tingling? You were rubbing your neck   
when you got back from the fire!" She squinted at the skin   
of his neck again, but it looked the same as it always did.   
Still, something wasn't right. He was *Superman* for   
heaven's sake! "Could something have happened there that   
might have caused it to tingle?"  
  
He moved back to his seat, reaching for an egg roll, but   
she could see he was thinking over her question. "It's   
funny that you should ask that," he said, slowly. "When I   
caught Diana Stride and carried her back to the roof of the   
penthouse--she kept running her fingers over my neck. I   
thought she was just--" He broke off, looking embarrassed.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well, I'm Superman, and--well--women tend to--you know--  
get kind of--well--"  
  
He was actually blushing! Lois carefully hid the grin that   
tried to make it to the surface. "Never mind. I think I   
get it. Do you think she could have done anything to cause   
this? Maybe put some kind of chemical on your skin, or   
something?"  
  
"There doesn't seem to be anything there, now," he said,   
doubtfully.  
  
"No, but we don't know that there wasn't something there,"   
Lois said. "I think we should have someone check it out.   
Do you think Professor Hamilton would still be in his lab?"  
  
"He usually is," Clark said. "I'm not sure we should   
disturb him for a thing like this, though. We don't really   
know anything."  
  
"Well, I think we should. I want to know what's the   
matter. If it isn't anything, then we can relax and forget   
it, but if it *is* something dangerous, we might be able to   
do something about it." She shoved another pork roll into   
her mouth, for emphasis and chewed vigorously. "Give me   
the phone. I'll call him, right now."  
  
**********   
  
"You say it's tingling, Superman?" Emil Hamilton asked. He   
prodded the patch of skin that Clark had indicated, peering   
at it through a pair of magnifying glasses that made his   
eyes seem grotesquely huge.  
  
"That's the closest I can come to describing it." Clark   
resisted the urge to rub the spot again. "Kind of a funny   
prickly feeling that makes me want to scratch it."  
  
"You mean it's itching," Hamilton said. He switched on a   
hand light, illuminating the area brightly and examined the   
skin minutely.   
  
"I guess. It's not quite that strong, but it isn't   
comfortable."  
  
Hamilton removed the magnifying glasses. "There's nothing   
I can see, even under magnification, but I'd like to try   
something else, if you don't mind."  
  
"What?" Lois asked.  
  
"With your permission, Superman, I'm going to shine an   
ultraviolet light on it. Often, foreign substances will   
fluoresce under UV."  
  
"Okay." Clark glanced at Lois, feeling unaccountably   
nervous. She gave him a little smile that was somehow   
reassuring.  
  
Professor Hamilton had gone to a cupboard and now returned   
with the ultraviolet light. After a moment of fumbling to   
plug it in, he flipped the on switch. A deep, purple light   
bathed Clark's shoulder and the side of his face.  
  
"Hmm..." The scientist bent closer, examining the spot.   
"There's definitely something here, Superman. It looks as   
if someone drew on you with finger paint."  
  
He twisted his head, trying unsuccessfully to see. Lois   
moved closer, attempting to peer past Hamilton's shoulder.   
"What is it?" she asked.  
  
"I can't be sure. I'd like to try to scrape some of this   
off for analysis."  
  
That was easier said than done, and they ended with Clark   
scraping off the surface cells with his fingernail.   
  
Hamilton spread the sample carefully on a slide. "I'll get   
right on it, Superman," he assured Clark. "As soon as I   
have some answers, I'll call you--if you have a phone?" he   
added as an afterthought.  
  
Lois removed a card from her wallet. "This is my number at   
the Daily Planet," she said. "Call me. My partner knows   
how to get hold of Superman."  
  
"Excellent, excellent." Hamilton had already turned away   
with the slide held gently between his thumb and   
forefinger, absently tucking the card into the pocket of   
his lab coat with the other hand. "This should be   
fascinating--"  
  
"We'll let ourselves out," Lois said.   
  
If the scientist heard her, he gave no indication of it.   
They carefully closed the door after them and Lois glanced   
back at the lab's lighted windows, shaking her head.  
  
"I think I'll give him a call in the morning," she said.   
"He probably won't even remember I gave him my card.   
Scientists!" She glanced at her watch. "It's about ten.   
I guess you should take me home."  
  
"Did you have enough to eat?" Clark asked. "It seems as if   
we haven't had an undisturbed dinner since Friday night."  
  
"Well," Lois said, a little wistfully, "I wouldn't mind a   
little more of that wonderful food."  
  
He smiled. "I'll tell you what. Let me drop you off at   
your apartment and then bring the food there so we can   
finish eating. Then you won't have to go anywhere when   
you're done."  
  
"That sounds like a plan," she agreed. "Besides, I want to   
hear more about this globe and what it told you."  
  
"Okay." He lifted her in his arms. "Although, you know   
most of it, now."  
  
"I still don't know as much about you as I want to," she   
said.   
  
"Well, you don't have to hear it all at once, you know. We   
have time."  
  
"Oh, I know. But I want to know so much! I keep   
remembering things that make so much more sense, now." She   
drew in her breath, suddenly. "No wonder you stood Mayson   
up that weekend that she asked you to go away with her--not   
that I think you'd have gone with her anyway--"  
  
"I was going to tell her no, but Perry interrupted."  
  
"But, you were in *my* apartment all weekend! No wonder   
you couldn't explain!"  
  
Clark nodded. "It wasn't fun, but I was glad I was with   
you, Lois."  
  
"You know," she said, "if you'd told me, I could have   
helped you a lot more."  
  
"I know. I was afraid; that's the only excuse I can give   
you. But, for what it's worth, I'd already decided that if   
I wasn't able to get my sight back, I was going to tell you   
the truth."  
  
"I guess that's something." She rested a hand on the side   
of his face. "You could have trusted me, you know."  
  
"That's the strange thing," he said, slowly. "I do trust   
you, and I trusted you, then. It was something else that   
kept me from telling you the truth--I guess, I'd hidden the   
secret for so long that I didn't really consider it. I   
mean, Superman was blind and helpless--at least, that's how   
I felt. Dr. Leit already knew--what if someone like Trask   
had discovered it? At least as Clark, I had some   
camouflage--but you're right, it would have been much   
smarter to tell you. It's hard to explain why I didn't."  
  
She didn't answer right away, but finally, she nodded. "I   
think I understand," she said. "I guess I can forgive you.   
At least you told me when it really mattered. But, the   
next time you get in trouble, I don't want to find out   
you've hidden anything from me, got it?"  
  
"Got it, ma'am," Clark said. Lois whacked him with her   
handbag.  
  
**********  
  
Lois was booting up her computer at the Planet, early the   
next morning and had just taken a bite of doughnut, when   
her telephone rang. She snatched up the receiver,   
swallowed convulsively and said, "Lois Lane."  
  
"Ms. Lane?" The voice at the other end sounded slightly   
agitated. "This is Emil Hamilton."  
  
"Oh, Professor Hamilton! I was going to call you in a few   
minutes."  
  
"I wanted to tell you," the scientist's voice said, "I have   
some preliminary results for you. The substance on   
Superman's neck was radioactive."  
  
"Radioactive!"  
  
The scientist cleared his throat. "Yes. There isn't   
enough of it to be dangerous to ordinary humans, but it's   
bound itself to the outer layer of skin cells to make it   
difficult to remove with just a shower or two. If I were   
to hazard a guess, I'd say that someone tagged Superman   
with a radioactive marker."  
  
"Tagged him!" Lois said, appalled. "*Why*?"  
  
"Possibly to track him," Hamilton's voice said. "I can't   
really think of any other reason."  
  
"Would that be possible?" Lois asked. A cold chill seemed   
to be crawling across her scalp.  
  
"With the right equipment, certainly."  
  
Lois gulped. She had to warn Clark. "Thank you,   
Professor," she managed. "You've been a lot of help."   
  
"I hope so. Goodbye, Ms. Lane."  
  
"Wait! One last question, Professor."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How can he get it off?"  
  
"It should wear off in a day or so," the Professor said.   
"I should think a thorough scrubbing, perhaps with a brush,   
to remove the top layer of skin cells would also take most   
of it off."  
  
"Thanks," Lois said, again. "I'll let Superman know, right   
away."  
  
"You're welcome, Ms. Lane. If I can help any further,   
please let me know." The scientist hung up.  
  
Lois put down the receiver and looked around for Clark. He   
was across the room at the coffee machine, and she was   
about to hail him when Perry's voice reverberated across   
the newsroom.  
  
"Lois! Clark! Jimmy! Conference room, now!"   
  
Lois hoisted herself to her feet, reaching for her crutches   
and grimacing in frustration. They didn't really know   
much, yet--but if Diana Stride had radioactively "tagged"   
Superman, then he needed to know it--and as fast as   
possible. Maybe she could slip him a note during the   
conference.   
  
**********   
  
When they were all inside, Perry closed the conference room   
door and turned the door lock. Clark pulled out a chair   
for Lois and helped her into it, then sat down beside her.   
Jimmy parked himself across from them and regarded their   
editor with his full attention. Lois guessed she could   
understand that. Jimmy might be a copy boy and part time   
photographer, but his goal was to someday become a full-  
fledged journalist and to be called into a meeting like   
this with the Planet's editor and star reporting team   
probably impressed him as few things could.  
  
"What's going on, Chief?" Clark asked.  
  
"I just got a call from--well, someone I know at the DA's   
office," Perry began. "He wanted to let me know what's   
happening. This could be the story of the century."  
  
Lois and Clark looked at each other for an instant and   
Clark's eyebrows went up.   
  
"A key member of Intergang's been arrested," Perry   
continued. "He's made a deal. He's going to testify."  
  
"Who is it?" Jimmy asked, quickly.  
  
"We don't know," their editor replied. "The DA's calling   
him Mr. X. The word is, Intergang's been killing these   
world leaders for decades, making it look like accidents.   
This Mr. X is going to finger their key assassin." He   
fixed his subordinates with his most intimidating stare.   
"Now, I want the full story on this guy--so by the time he   
takes the stand, the Planet has the headlines--who he is,   
where he comes from, what he's gonna say. Got it?"  
  
Clark nodded. "Got it."  
  
"Okay, good. Go get 'em." Apparently satisfied that he'd   
impressed the three of them with the importance of the   
assignment, their editor opened the door and exited.  
  
Instantly, the atmosphere in the conference room seemed to   
relax. Jimmy glanced at Clark with a grin. "Are those new   
specs, CK?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah," Clark said.  
  
"Can I try 'em on?" Jimmy reached for the glasses, but   
Clark quickly held up a restraining hand.   
  
"No!"  
  
Jimmy looked startled. Lois stepped into the silence. "He   
wouldn't let me try them either, Jimmy."  
  
"I have a really strong prescription," Clark said, quickly.   
"I wouldn't want to hurt your eyes."  
  
Jimmy shrugged and grinned. "All right," he said. "I'll   
see you later."  
  
He exited the room and Lois waited until the door closed.   
"Professor Hamilton called."  
  
Instantly, Clark was alert. "What did he say?"  
  
Lois quickly recounted the conversation and at the   
conclusion, Clark frowned. "Diana Stride 'tagged' me," he   
repeated, slowly. "But, why?"  
  
"Clark, she's an investigative journalist," Lois said.   
"What if she's guessed that Superman could have another   
identity and is trying to find out who he is? She could be   
planning to expose him on Top Copy! You should fly back to   
your place and really scrub your neck with a scrub brush.   
Professor Hamilton said that might take it off."  
  
"You're talking about Superman in the third person, again,"   
Clark pointed out, mildly.  
  
"So are you," she retorted. "I'm not kidding, Clark!"  
  
"You're right," he said. "Look, let's decide what we're   
going to do about Mr. X, then I'll go home for a quick   
shower."  
  
"Well," Lois pointed out, "you're friends with Mayson   
Drake. You might be able to get her to tell us about him.   
She's an assistant DA. She's bound to know who he is."  
  
Clark hesitated. "I really don't like to--"  
  
"Clark, she's got a crush on you. She's more likely to   
talk to you than anyone else."  
  
"That's exactly why I don't want to take advantage of the   
situation. Besides, how do you *know* she's got a crush on   
me?"  
  
"Take it from me, Clark, she does. She's been after you   
since she met you. Look, it can't hurt to ask her, can   
it?"  
  
He hesitated, and for a moment, Lois experienced a wave of   
sheer jealousy. Then, she got hold of herself. She didn't   
have any real reason to be jealous. Clark had already made   
it clear where his interest lay. He was simply an   
honorable man who didn't like to take advantage of a friend   
for his own personal gain. Knowing that Mayson Drake had a   
crush on him, it would certainly go against the grain to   
use that crush to get information from her. It was one of   
the things that made him the person he was. She bit her   
lip. It might be a good idea to cut her partner a little   
slack at this point, even if every reporter's instinct she   
had told her that it was the obvious next step.  
  
"If you really think you shouldn't, I won't push you," she   
said. "It just seems like the only way we might get a   
lead."  
  
"Yeah." He looked worried. "Well--I guess we could ask.   
I just don't want to give her any reason to--well, expect   
anything. It wouldn't be fair to her."  
  
"All right," she said. "That's reasonable. Do you want to   
call her, or should we just go down to City Hall?"  
  
"I guess we should just go..."  
  
They exited the conference room and Lois headed slowly for   
her desk to pick up her bag, silently cussing the   
clumsiness of the crutches.   
  
Clark's head jerked up and she saw an expression of alarm   
cross his features. "What's the matter?" she asked.  
  
"Diana Stride. She and that cameraman of hers are on their   
way up here. They've got some kind of tracking device--"  
  
"Clark, they're tracing you!" she whispered. "Do   
something!"  
  
He glanced quickly around and then a gust of air swept the   
room. Lois brushed the hair from her eyes and looked   
quickly around. Clark had vanished.  
  
At the same instant, the elevator doors opened and a tall,   
stylish woman, followed by a dark-haired man toting a   
videocamera on his shoulder, exited. In her hand, the   
woman held something that Lois couldn't see clearly, but   
she carried it before her, obviously concentrating on   
whatever information it was giving her. She made some   
brief remark to her companion and the two of them hurried   
down the steps to the newsroom floor.  
  
"Is that who I think it is?" Perry's voice murmured in her   
ear.  
  
Lois didn't answer. Diana Stride and her cameraman headed   
directly across the newsroom toward the door of the   
conference room where she and Clark had just been.  
  
And suddenly, the two intruders came to a halt. Standing   
in front of them in all his colorful glory, his arms folded   
across his chest, was Superman.  
  
Lois breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Clark didn't look in   
the least uncomfortable. In fact, he had a slightly amused   
expression on his face. There was a murmur of conversation   
between them, and then Diana Stride turned and addressed   
the newsroom.  
  
"Everybody, I'm Diana Stride, and Top Copy is doing a   
tribute to Superman." She gave her polished, familiar   
smile. "We know he has a lot of great friends at the   
Planet, and I'd like to interview all of you. I had hoped   
that it would be a surprise for him but, well, there's no   
keeping secrets from the Man of Steel." She beckoned to   
him and Clark took a step or two forward, his arms still   
folded and his expression still slightly amused and wary.   
Diana Stride continued, "Well, let's get started. Who'd   
like to talk about Superman?"  
  
A chorus of voices from the Planet staff answered her. She   
continued smoothly, "And Superman, I can count on an   
interview from you, soon?"  
  
"Careful," Clark said. "Whatever that thing is in your   
hand, there--" The item in question sizzled suddenly and a   
cloud of smoke arose from it. "--It's shorted out." He   
removed it from her grasp. "Maybe I'd better take it,   
before you get burned."  
  
Lois had to hide a grin at the expression on the woman's   
face, but underneath the grin was worry. They now had   
their proof that Diana Stride was the person who had tagged   
Superman. The problem was, she was unlikely to cease her   
attempts to uncover his identity simply because he was   
aware of her scheme. The next try would simply be more   
subtle and that was scary.  
  
**********   
  
Lois fidgeted. She was already regretting having done it,   
but it was too late to undo. Mayson Drake had hurried off   
to a meeting, and Lois and Clark were on their way back to   
the Daily Planet.   
  
The Assistant DA hadn't been able to give them much   
information, so in a moment of weakness, while the woman's   
attention was distracted, Lois had stolen her pager.  
  
Well, it wasn't the end of the world, she told herself.   
This wasn't the first time she'd skirted the law--but now,   
knowing what she knew about Clark, and the fact that he   
wasn't really interested in a closer relationship with   
Mayson Drake, she was experiencing completely unfamiliar   
qualms of conscience. If she had a real reason to dislike   
the woman, it would be a different matter, but the source   
of her dislike--yes, she conceded very privately, her   
jealousy--was gone. Mayson Drake disliked and distrusted   
Superman. Clark was Superman, and as such, could not   
pursue a closer relationship with her, even if he were of   
the mind to do so--which he wasn't. He had made it quite   
clear that he was in love with Lois, not Mayson, and wanted   
to pursue a relationship only with her.   
  
But, what would he think of her after this stunt?  
  
She had to admit that the thought bothered her, but she   
told herself that if Clark wanted her, he would have to   
take her as she was. She couldn't change to suit him and   
to be fair, he hadn't asked her to. And it wasn't as if   
he'd never done something of the sort, himself. There were   
the times he'd taken that bottle of Miranda's pheromone-  
laced perfume from her boutique and that sample of   
Mentamide 5 from the office of Dr. Carlton, the   
neuropsychologist at the Beckworth School.  
  
Still, he might regard this as a little different. Mayson   
had a crush on him and he didn't want to take advantage of   
the fact. On the other hand, he hadn't taken the pager.   
Lois had.  
  
She was aware that she was rationalizing and splitting   
hairs but after all, they were reporters and had a job to   
do. In any case, before she said anything, she would have   
Jimmy trace the numbers in the little device's memory and   
see if any of them were promising. If none of them were,   
she didn't have to tell him. But, if something did turn   
up, she was going to have to. She couldn't do much   
sneaking around with this thing on her ankle.   
  
"You're awfully quiet," Clark said, startling her. "Is   
something wrong?"  
  
For a moment, she was irritated. Couldn't the man mind his   
own business? The she caught herself. Clark wasn't   
prying, at all; it was her own sense of guilt that was the   
problem. She shook her head.  
  
"I was thinking. All we know is that the assassin is   
famous. Maybe we should check out which celebrity was in   
contact with each of the assassinated leaders shortly   
before they died. We might find a link."  
  
"That's a pretty good idea," he said. "Jimmy should be   
able to do it without too much trouble." He pulled the   
Cherokee into the Planet's underground parking lot. "Wow,   
it's pretty crowded in here, today."  
  
"It's supposed to snow later," Lois said. "People don't   
want to walk through it when they get off work."  
  
She saw him lower his glasses and turn his head, looking   
around. Then he turned the Jeep left down the aisle   
farthest from the elevator and a moment later had located a   
parking space at the very end of the row.  
  
"Why do you lower your glasses like that?" she asked, as he   
pulled the Cherokee into the space.  
  
He cut the engine. "I can use my special vision better   
without the glass in the way," he explained. "Sorry we're   
so far from the elevator. This was the last space in the   
lot."  
  
"That's all right." She reached for the crutches, but he   
had already retrieved them and now walked around to her   
door to assist her to the ground. She positioned the   
crutches, leaving Clark to lock the Jeep, and started   
toward the elevator. He joined her almost at once,   
adjusting his steps to accommodate her slow progress on the   
crutches. Again, she felt a twinge of guilt.   
  
As they reached the elevator, he raised his head. "Great."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm hearing a bunch of sirens. I think Superman should   
check it out. Will you be all right on your own?"  
  
"Clark, I'm fine. This isn't the first time I've been on   
crutches. Go on. Just don't forget to get the story,   
too."  
  
"Okay." He paused, then leaned forward to give her a light   
kiss on the lips. "I'll be back as soon as I can."  
  
Bemused, Lois stood still, staring after him for several   
minutes until the chime of the arriving elevator broke her   
out of her trance. She boarded, still somewhat stunned,   
and punched the indicator for the newsroom floor. Wow!   
How could such a quick, almost casual gesture have such an   
effect on her? She'd been kissed by a number of men, some   
of them pretty thoroughly, but none of them could compare   
to that.  
  
She'd been kissed by Clark before and she knew he--well,   
that he knew what he was doing. There had been the kiss on   
the plane, before Trask threw her out of it, and the one in   
the hotel room--but those had both been deceptions. Then,   
of course, there had been the goodbye kiss in the Planet,   
when he'd left--at the time Superman had believed he was   
causing the winter heat wave. That one had been real, but   
it had been for a different purpose. This one was pure   
affection, and it was--well, wow. In capital letters. Her   
heart was still beating a little fast.  
  
The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened. She   
exited slowly and almost absently into the busy swirl of   
the newsroom.  
  
"Lois! Where's Clark?" Perry's voice startled her into   
full awareness of the activity around her.  
  
"Uh--he heard a bunch of sirens and went to see if there   
was a story. He'll be back as soon as he can."  
  
"Oh--okay. Any progress on that other thing?"  
  
"Maybe, Chief." She glanced around. "Jimmy, I need you   
to help me."  
  
Jimmy, crossing the room with a stack of folders, nodded   
distractedly. "Be right there."   
  
She worked her way down the steps. The ramp was a little   
much, considering her crutches. At her desk, she sank into   
her chair and opened her purse. Mayson's pager lay on top   
of the other contents, and she bit her lip. Should she use   
it? The temptation was strong, but--  
  
She closed the purse. Maybe she wouldn't need to. Maybe   
they could go at this another way.  
  
"Yeah, Lois?" Jimmy had arrived at her desk.  
  
"Oh--uh, yeah. Jimmy, I need you to do some research for   
me. You know that list of political leaders you put   
together--the ones we think Intergang assassinated? I want   
you to get a list of the people who contacted them in the   
last day or so before they were killed. Anyone famous--not   
their wife or valet or anything. See if the same person   
shows up more than a few times. Got it?"  
  
"Sure." Jimmy paused, looking more closely at her. "Are   
you okay, Lois?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, sure. Clark and I were discussing this on the   
way back. Try to hurry, would you? If we're right, this   
may tell us who the assassin is."  
  
**********  
  
Half an hour later, Clark stepped out of the elevator to   
find Lois and Jimmy both peering at her computer screen   
with an air of suppressed excitement. He hurried down into   
the Pit and across to Lois's desk.  
  
"Hi, what's up?"  
  
They glanced around at him, and Lois waved at her screen.   
"Jimmy came up with the answer, Clark. Take a look."  
  
He leaned over the back of her chair. "What's this?"  
  
"The list of the leaders probably assassinated by   
Intergang's top assassin," Jimmy said. "Look who   
interviewed each one of them within a day of their deaths.   
I can't believe it, but it does make sense--at least I   
guess it does. It's just hard to believe *she* would be   
involved with Intergang."  
  
Clark read the list and felt his eyebrows climbing toward   
his hairline. "Diana Stride?"  
  
"Yeah," Lois said. "I might not believe it, if that other-  
-thing hadn't happened."  
  
"What other thing?" Jimmy asked.  
  
"Last night Diana Stride apparently tagged Superman with a   
radioactive marker," Clark said, absently.   
  
"How do you know?" Jimmy asked.  
  
"Professor Hamilton identified it," Lois said. "Then, she   
showed up this morning with that tracking device, looking   
for him."  
  
"Why would she do a thing like that?" Jimmy asked, clearly   
puzzled.  
  
"We don't know for certain," Lois said. "Evidently, she   
wants to be able to track him down, for some reason.   
Superman's worried, and so are we. If she's Intergang's   
assassin, it would make sense. They've made no secret that   
they'd like to get rid of him."  
  
"That's for sure," Jimmy said. "If Mr. X can identify her,   
she's going to try to kill him."  
  
"I'd say that's a given," Lois said.  
  
"Do you think we should notify the police?" Jimmy asked.  
  
Clark shook his head. "We don't have any proof, really;   
just a working theory. They're not likely to believe us.   
Besides, they already know Intergang's going to be after   
him--we wouldn't be telling them anything they don't know."  
  
"Yeah," Jimmy agreed. "So, now what?"  
  
"That's what we're going to decide," Lois said. "I wonder   
if we could get Superman to help. Protecting a witness   
ought to be right up his alley."  
  
"Hey, that's an idea!" Jimmy said. He glanced at the   
clock. "Oops, gotta go, guys. I'm supposed to pick up the   
Chief's lunch at the deli in a few minutes."  
  
"I don't think Mayson would go for that," Clark said after   
Jimmy had gone. "She doesn't trust Superman."  
  
"I know. I can't figure out what her problem is," Lois   
said, irritably. "Superman's the biggest asset that law   
enforcement has ever had and she doesn't trust him. He's   
never hurt anyone, never interfered with the police; he's   
done nothing but good--"  
  
"Lois, I think it's more basic than that," Clark said, very   
quietly. "Superman isn't human; he's an alien. He's   
powerful and she can't control him if he decides he doesn't   
want to be controlled. I think that underneath, she's   
afraid of him."  
  
"Then, she's a bigot," Lois said, flatly. "*And* a fool."  
  
"Lois--"  
  
"I'm sorry, Clark; I know she's your friend but I call them   
as I see them. She's letting her professional objectivity   
be influenced by her emotions. She's as biased as any   
racist on the planet."  
  
"Not exactly. She isn't a racist--she just doesn't trust   
Superman."  
  
"Then, she's a speciesist and that's just as bad! Superman   
is a good, trustworthy man, human or not. If she can't see   
that--"  
  
Lois was genuinely angry, Clark thought, although he   
shouldn't have been surprised. He saw Ralph give them an   
odd look, and decided it might be a good idea to change the   
subject. He reached out and covered her hand with his.   
"It doesn't matter what Mayson thinks of Superman, Lois,"   
he said, so softly that only she could hear him. "The   
only thing that matters to him is what *you* think of him."   
He removed his hand and raised his voice to a normal level.   
"Anyway, regardless of that, we better decide what to do   
about Diana Stride."  
  
"Kent!" Perry's voice rose over the ever-present noise in   
the busy room. "Did you get that story you were after?"  
  
He sighed. "Yeah, Chief. I'll write it up and have it to   
you in a few minutes."  
  
Lois gave a soft laugh. "Go write," she said. "We'll   
figure it out later."  
  
**********  
  
Lois watched her partner head for his desk and begin to   
type. Her head was still reeling from the way his quiet   
statement had brought her up short and stopped her anger in   
its tracks. He'd said it in so many words; it was her   
opinion that mattered to him, not Mayson's. He, Clark   
Kent, aka Superman, was in love with her, Lois Lane. Out   
of the corner of her eye, she glanced at her bag where it   
lay on the floor under her desk. How could she possibly   
admit that she'd taken the pager, now? She couldn't. He'd   
certainly be disappointed in her. She'd just mail it back   
to Mayson Drake, anonymously and if the woman asked her   
about it, she would simply deny all knowledge of it. That   
would be the end of the matter.   
  
Clark was leaning forward, reading what he had written.   
She saw him make a correction and got to her feet to stroll   
over to his desk. He glanced up at her as she leaned over   
his shoulder.  
  
"What do you think of it?"  
  
"Not bad. Good quote from Superman."  
  
"I thought so." He LANned it to Perry and swiveled his   
chair around. "Maybe we should adjourn to the conference--  
" He broke off. "Oh, no."  
  
"Another emergency?"  
  
"Pileup on the parkway. It's sleeting out there, and--"  
  
"Say no more. Go."  
  
**********  
  
When Clark returned, there was no sign of Lois in the   
newsroom. He listened with his super-hearing, but her   
heartbeat wasn't anywhere in the building. On the off   
chance that she could have left him a note, he checked his   
desk but there was, of course, nothing. It wasn't really a   
surprise.   
  
The fact that she had a cast on one ankle made it unlikely   
she'd be trying to follow Diana Stride, but on the other   
hand, this was Lois Lane. He wouldn't put anything past   
his partner when she was on the trail of a hot story--  
especially now, when she had the added incentive of trying   
to protect him from a possible Intergang assassin. He   
glanced around. "Hey, Eduardo! Have you seen Lois?"  
  
The man frowned. "I think she left about two hours ago,   
Clark. She took Olsen with her. Didn't say where she was   
going, though."  
  
Clark glanced at his watch. It was past six. Where were   
they?  
  
For an instant, he considered calling her and asking where   
she was but rejected the impulse at once. Not only could   
it interrupt her at a possibly hazardous time, but the last   
thing Lois needed was for him to start smothering her with   
protectiveness. He knew very well that one of the most   
important things in her life was her independence. He had   
to remind himself, fairly frequently, that he shouldn't try   
to make decisions for her. The habit was a difficult one   
to resist, though. As Superman, he had to constantly make   
choices like that for other people--choices like who lived   
and who died. He hated such decisions, but there were the   
inevitable times when he had to employ them. He couldn't   
be everywhere or do everything. Sometimes there were no   
good choices, but they still had to be made. It was times   
like that when he would replay in his head the thing that   
Lois had told him, not long after he became Superman:   
"What he can't do...it doesn't matter. It's the idea of   
Superman. Someone to believe in. Someone to build a few   
hopes around. Whatever he *can* do: it's enough."   
  
Maybe it was, but making such decisions wasn't fun. He   
didn't need to extend the necessity to his personal life--  
especially with the woman he loved and wanted to marry.   
There were plenty of times when he thought she was making   
the wrong choice but in his more rational moments, he was   
well aware that if he tried to make those choices for her,   
he would be making a potentially fatal error in regards to   
their relationship. It was when danger threatened her that   
the impulse was incredibly hard to withstand. So far, he'd   
managed to resist it.  
  
Well, what should he do? Reluctantly, he recognized that,   
short of calling her on her cellular phone, the only things   
he could do was to wait, or possibly go looking for her.   
She could hardly complain that he was being overprotective   
if he did that.   
  
At that instant, his super-hearing clicked in with a   
vengeance and he lifted his head abruptly at the heavy   
echoes of an explosion that reverberated in his ears,   
followed almost instantly by a shout of warning from a very   
familiar voice. Ignoring Eduardo's surprised look, he   
turned on his heel and made a beeline for the stairs. He   
didn't hear Perry's voice calling his name from the door of   
his office, or even Ralph's quip to the sports editor about   
Kent having forgotten to return another library book. As   
he darted through the door, he heard a sound from the same   
area as the explosion that raised the hair on the back of   
his neck: four shots from a silenced handgun. The door   
hadn't even completely closed when a sonic boom shook the   
air above the Daily Planet. Superman had had a sudden   
harrowing premonition. If Lois wasn't in the middle of   
trouble, he was the Easter Bunny.  
  
**********  
  
Driving the Cherokee with a cast on her foot was harder   
than she'd thought. Lois maneuvered slowly down the   
narrow, dirt road that Jimmy had indicated Diana Stride had   
taken, working to be certain she didn't put too much   
pressure on the accelerator with the clumsy thing. Roaring   
her motor wasn't a good idea at the moment. Diana Stride   
would be certain to notice. Of course, driving with only   
her parking lights on was a bit dangerous, but it was worth   
the risk if the woman led her to Mr. X's safe house.  
  
Where was Jimmy? He'd followed Diana Stride from her   
penthouse, some forty-five minutes ago, to this God-  
forsaken place in the country. The kid must be practically   
riding in her back pocket. She hoped he was careful. If   
they were right about Diana Stride, then the woman was a   
killer. If she thought Jimmy had any idea about what she   
was up to, she'd dispose of him without compunction.  
  
If she had been thinking, she'd have left a note for Clark.   
Having Superman for backup would have been reassuring, but   
he'd been very much occupied trying to clear up that mess   
on the parkway. He was probably still busy and this   
wouldn't wait.   
  
Back at the Planet, she had discussed the problem with   
Jimmy, since Perry had included him in the investigation   
because of his computer skills. It had actually been   
Jimmy's idea that he should stake out the woman's Ferrari,   
and follow her on his motorcycle if she went anywhere.   
He'd promised to phone Lois at once, if Diana Stride looked   
like she was going somewhere important. Lois had been   
doubtful, but she'd gone along with it. After all, they   
had to find their proof, somehow. She'd taken the time to   
drop by the post office and mail the pager back to Mayson   
Drake, glad to have the temptation out of her hands. Now,   
however, she was wishing for that super backup that her   
partner could have provided.  
  
This was silly! She had been an investigative reporter for   
several years before she met Clark and had managed to deal   
with dangerous situations before. Having Superman to pull   
her out of them if they went wrong was convenient but not   
really necessary.   
  
Except, that small and highly irritating voice in the back   
of her mind pointed out, that since the advent of Superman   
and the acquisition of a partner, she sometimes wasn't as   
careful to plan ahead as she used to be. That was   
something she needed to work on. She couldn't always count   
on Superman being available to bail her out if the need   
arose. What if he was in Lower Mongolia, dealing with an   
earthquake or something, when she needed help?  
  
The precipitation had slowed to a light mist, accompanied   
by the occasional snowflake, thank goodness, she observed   
as the Cherokee crept along the narrow road. The sun had   
almost set and here, driving between the trees, it was   
getting pretty dark. Overhead, no stars were visible,   
however, because of the thick cloud cover. Parking lights   
really weren't adequate to handle it, and anyway, she   
needed to turn them off. Up ahead, there was a hint of   
light between the trees--a house, she thought, with a   
thrill of combined excitement and apprehension.  
  
At the thought, there was the faint glint of her parking   
lights reflecting off wet metal just ahead and to the right   
of her, and she braked to a stop, at the same instant   
dousing her lights.   
  
She sat still for a long moment, letting her eyes adjust to   
the lower level of illumination. The object ahead was a   
car, she realized, a low-slung sports model that had been   
parked far off the road. With care, Lois put her vehicle   
in reverse and backed up a good twenty feet. Then, with   
equal caution, she pulled far onto the other side of the   
road, wincing as she heard the scrape of wet branches   
against the sides of her beloved Jeep. Still, she didn't   
want anyone returning to the other car to notice her.   
Fortunately, the underbrush here was fairly thick, and she   
maneuvered the Cherokee tightly in behind a mass of thorny   
bushes before cutting the engine.  
  
Slowly, leaving her bag behind, she opened the passenger   
door and slid out, pulling the crutches with her. Trying   
to walk on crutches in this stuff was asking for trouble,   
but she wanted a look at the other car. Moving with great   
caution, she worked her way out from behind the brush,   
stopping several times to disentangle hair and clothing   
from the grasping thorns, and made her way across the   
rutted, dirt road to the sports car.  
  
It was a Ferrari, she saw. The license plate had been   
obscured with smears of mud, but Lois was ready for that.   
The lace handkerchief her mother had sent her from Paris   
last year as a so-called birthday present (even though it   
had arrived four months late) made a convenient rag to wipe   
away the soil so she could see the number. The faint glow   
of the moon behind the blanket of cloud cover, gave her   
enough light to copy it down on the back of an envelope   
that she'd tucked in her jacket pocket, intending to mail.   
It was a New Troy plate, she noted, without surprise, and   
shoved the envelope back into the pocket. She could have   
Jimmy check the number later, but she was willing to bet   
that this was Diana Stride's car.  
  
Slowly, she turned back toward the Jeep. It went against   
the grain not to be exploring ahead, trying to see what she   
could see, but on crutches she would be slow and clumsy,   
unable to run if she was discovered. This one time, she   
was going to have to rely on Jimmy.  
  
Glancing over her shoulder at the lights of the house, she   
hesitated. Would it hurt just to go openly down the road   
toward the place? If she seemed to be an innocent   
passerby, perhaps with engine trouble, shouldn't that be   
all right?  
  
Slowly, but far less reluctantly, she turned and started   
down the road toward the glow of light.   
  
The road was only dimly visible and she didn't dare take   
out her penlight, even if both her hands hadn't been   
occupied. The chilly mist drifted down, and she soon   
discovered that trying to maneuver with a pair of crutches   
on the rutted surface was harder than it had at first   
seemed--especially considering that it had been sleeting a   
short time before and the ground was semi-liquid in spots.   
The crutches had a tendency to slide, and more than once   
she put down her good foot, only to discover that the   
surface squished or splashed beneath it. In no time at   
all, her leg was coated in icy mud halfway to the knee, her   
shoe was thick with the stuff, and she was seriously re-  
evaluating the wisdom of this particular move.  
  
Darn it! Why couldn't the weather cooperate, just once,   
she grumbled to herself as she slipped and slid her awkward   
way down the muddy road. It was supposed to be early   
spring, for heaven's sake! Last weekend had been bright   
and sunny, and the trees had been putting out new leaves   
for weeks, but the latest cold snap had brought snow and   
sleet with it, which was naturally keeping Superman busy,   
and she could sure use him right now. Her foot came down   
in another puddle, and she gasped as the icy mud made its   
way over the top of her shoe--again--and oozed down inside.   
She was probably going to have to throw the pair away after   
this, she reflected, grimly, but if she got the story on   
Mr. X, it would be worth it.  
  
She rounded a turn in the road, and before her was an open   
space. To her right, a swampy body of water filled what   
would otherwise have been the front yard of a modest house.   
A curtained window glowed with muted lighting, and she   
could see the dim form of a man in camouflage gear as he   
crossed in front of it, walking a slow path around the   
perimeter of the building. She paused in the shadow of the   
shrubbery to catch her breath and make up her mind what to   
do next. Tendrils of mist curled in the air, cold and   
clammy on her skin.   
  
From the branches of the tree above her, there was the   
sudden fluttering of wings, and water showered onto her   
head. Caught off guard, she gasped and flinched away from   
the small torrent of icy liquid, lost her balance and   
pitched sideways into the wet, thorny growth that edged the   
road. At the same instant, from somewhere ahead and to her   
left, there were the muted sounds of a short, violent   
scuffle.  
  
She struggled and tore her way free of the thorns, unsure   
of what she had just heard. One of her crutches lay in the   
muddy road; the other had disappeared in the darkness. On   
hands and knees in the mud, she distinctly heard the clink   
of metal, a faint, high squeal and an odd popping noise.   
Then, she ducked involuntarily at the burst of sound and   
the flash of light that crossed the space directly ahead of   
her. The front window exploded in flames.  
  
Breathless and paralyzed, she saw the front door of the   
house fly open and three men rush out. From somewhere she   
heard a voice--Jimmy's, she realized belatedly--yelling a   
warning. For an instant, she saw him, thirty feet ahead, a   
black silhouette against the pale lighting. Then there was   
the sound of four shots from a silenced handgun. Jimmy   
went down, and she saw the men by the house crouched on the   
ground. Then, there was a characteristic whoosh that   
marked the arrival of Superman.  
  
Somewhere, she heard the sound of someone retreating   
through the shrubbery. Superman took off again, carrying   
the form of one of the men, and she crawled forward to the   
spot where Jimmy lay on the ground.  
  
He wasn't moving, she saw, and for a terrible moment, she   
thought he was dead. Then she realized he was breathing.   
  
"Jimmy?" she whispered.   
  
He didn't answer. Desperate, she dragged the penlight from   
her jacket pocket and flashed it over him.   
  
He was bleeding, she saw, and a patch of blood was soaking   
the back of his jacket. "Jimmy?" Lois pushed herself to a   
sitting position and shouted at the top of her voice.   
"Help! Somebody help!"  
  
**********  
  
"How is he?"  
  
Lois looked up as Perry White entered the waiting room.   
Clark put a hand on hers and squeezed it lightly. "He's in   
surgery, Chief. The doctors say he's got a fighting   
chance."  
  
Perry dropped onto the sofa next to Lois, not even blinking   
at her muddy clothes. "What happened? You said on the   
phone that he was trailing Diana Stride?"  
  
Lois nodded. "We both were. I was following behind him in   
the Cherokee. We were at the government safe house and saw   
the attempt to kill the government witness. I guess he   
tried to warn the police."  
  
"Lois, that was a hell of a crazy risk!" Perry exploded.   
"You both could have been killed!"  
  
"I know." Lois clenched her hands in her lap, fighting   
back tears. "I didn't know he was going to do that. I   
told him when we started not to take any chances."  
  
She saw Perry and Clark exchange a glance, but neither   
commented. Her boss cleared his throat. "Tell me what   
happened."  
  
Slowly, her voice almost a monotone, she recounted the   
events of the past couple of hours. When she had finished,   
her boss cleared his throat, again. "So, you're sure it   
was Diana Stride?"  
  
"I'm sure, Chief. I didn't see her, but she's the one   
Jimmy was trailing."  
  
"So, Jimmy could identify her."  
  
"Well--yes. Probably." She saw Perry and Clark exchange   
another glance. "What?"  
  
"The government witness is in a coma," Clark said.   
"There's a bullet lodged next to his heart, and the doctors   
can't operate until he stabilizes. He won't be able to   
testify for weeks--but Jimmy might be able to, if he   
survives."  
  
"In other words, he can identify the assassin," Lois   
whispered.  
  
"Exactly." Mayson Drake's voice spoke from the doorway.   
The assistant DA crossed the room and took a seat across   
from the three journalists. "I want to know how you found   
my witness."  
  
Normally, Lois would have bristled, but after the events of   
the evening, she was in no mood to fight. "We had reasons   
to be suspicious of Diana Stride," she said. "Jimmy   
discovered that every head of state who was assassinated   
had been interviewed by her within 24 hours of his death.   
We staked out her car and Jimmy followed her on his   
motorcycle."  
  
"How did you get there?" Mayson asked, glancing at the cast   
on Lois's ankle.  
  
"He let me know where he was going by cell phone," Lois   
said. "I followed his directions. Here." She pulled the   
now-muddy envelope from her pocket. "I copied this license   
number from a car that was parked on the road that led to   
the house. Odds are, it's hers."  
  
Mayson took the envelope. "I'll have it checked," she   
said. "You never actually saw Diana Stride, though."  
  
"No," Lois said. "Only Jimmy saw her. At least, I think   
he did."  
  
"That makes him a witness," Perry said. "If he can   
identify the shooter--"  
  
The woman nodded curtly. "I'm putting him under guard,   
along with Mr. X."  
  
"You think he's in danger?" Lois asked.  
  
Mayson didn't smile. "What do you think, Lois? Of course   
he is." She added, "If it hadn't been for his warning, we   
might have lost our government witness. You can bet   
Intergang knows who he is by now. And you, too."   
  
Lois shrugged, irritably. "I didn't see anything the   
others didn't see," she said, "and I've told you everything   
I know. I'm no danger to them."  
  
"Maybe not." Mayson spread the envelope out and began to   
copy the scribbled number. "They may not be so sure of   
that, however. Here." She handed Lois the crumpled and   
dirty envelope. "You'll want your electric bill back."   
She glanced at Clark. "Where were you in all this?"  
  
"I was covering the chain-reaction accident on the   
parkway."  
  
Mayson got to her feet, saying something under her breath   
about at least one of them having some sense. "I'll talk   
to you tomorrow. I assume you'll be staying here until   
Olsen is out of surgery?"  
  
Clark nodded. "Of course."  
  
"Then, I'd better warn you about the reporters. They've   
somehow gotten word of what happened. There's a mob of   
them outside waiting for you. Superman already spoke to   
them, but they're still hanging around."  
  
"Don't worry about that," Perry said, a glint of anger in   
his eyes. "I'll handle them."  
  
Mayson nodded, then seemed to think of something. "By the   
way, when we spoke earlier today, did either of you happen   
to see my pager?"  
  
"No," Clark said.  
  
Lois simply shook her head, biting her lip. "Did the   
doctors say anything to you about Jimmy?" she asked.  
  
"Not much." Mayson was watching her closely. "They think   
he'll make it. I certainly hope he does, for more than one   
reason." She glanced at Clark. "In the meantime, I'm   
asking you both as a personal favor to me to stay away from   
Diana Stride. If she *is* the one we're after, I don't   
want her to possibly be tipped off in any way. Is that   
clear?"  
  
"Yes," Clark said.  
  
"Good." Mayson turned and walked briskly away.   
  
**********  
  
It was past two when Clark took Lois home.  
  
Jimmy was out of surgery, and the doctors had assured his   
three waiting friends that he was out of danger, more or   
less awake and resting as comfortably as possible. Perry   
had been allowed a visit that lasted for all of thirty   
seconds, just to reassure them all, and to let a very   
drowsy Jimmy know that his friends were rooting for him,   
and then the staff had shooed him out.  
  
By the time they left the waiting room, there were only   
five or six reporters left in the hall outside and Perry's   
annoyed bark made them instinctively back off. Even the   
guy from the National Whisper seemed to be unwilling to   
approach the Planet's editor-in-chief.   
  
"Nice work, Chief," Clark observed as they exited from the   
lobby, walking slowly to accommodate Lois's crutches. She   
glanced back over her shoulder to assure herself that they   
weren't being followed. They weren't.  
  
Perry smiled, grimly. "Comes from practice." He looked   
Lois over with concern. "Are you all right, honey?"  
  
"Sure, Perry." It had been an exhausting evening and Lois   
could barely keep her eyes open, but she wasn't going to   
admit that. "I'm just glad Jimmy's going to make it."  
  
"Yeah." Perry glanced around the hospital's parking lot.   
"Where's your Jeep?"  
  
"Still out on the dirt road, I guess, along with Jimmy's   
motorcycle. Superman flew both of us here."  
  
"Superman said he took it to your place when he went back   
for your crutches, Lois," Clark interjected. "I think he   
got Jimmy's motorcycle, too."  
  
"That was considerate of him," Perry said. "In that case,   
let me give you both a ride home. There's a blanket in the   
back to cover the seat with, if you want. Most of the   
mud's probably dried by now, anyway."  
  
"Oh, Chief, I don't want to mess up your car..."  
  
"If I was worried about my car, I wouldn't offer you the   
ride." He led the way across the lot. "Come on, honey.   
Where are you going to get a taxi at this hour?"  
  
Lois was too tired to argue. Perry unlocked the latch on   
the passenger side and started to open the door. Clark   
caught his hand.  
  
"Let me check something, sir."  
  
Perry frowned, but stepped back. Clark went around to open   
the hood of the car and lean over the engine. An instant   
later he straightened up. "Chief, you better call the   
cops. There's something in here that looks like a bomb."  
  
"*What*?" Their boss sounded more outraged than afraid,   
but he didn't argue. A short time later, the Metropolis   
bomb squad was swarming around the editor's car. The man   
in charge, a Captain Weems, stood back while his experts   
disarmed and removed the device. Lois fanned at the smoke   
from his cigar, but didn't complain.   
  
"Yep, it's a bomb, all right," the man said clinically,   
knocking ashes onto the pavement. "Looks like a pretty   
standard car bomb. You done something to tick off anyone,   
recently, Mr. White?"  
  
"I'm a newspaper editor," Perry said. "What do you think?"  
  
"Huh. Well, I'd say somebody doesn't like you, much." The   
man turned to give directions to a young woman who stood   
nearby with a briefcase in her hands. She nodded and went   
over to join the crowd of men around the hood of the car.   
He turned back to the trio of reporters. "Jackie's going   
to dust for prints. Chances are, whoever he was, he didn't   
leave any, but you never know. We'll be done in about   
fifteen minutes and you can have your car."   
  
It was closer to twenty minutes later that the bomb squad   
departed and the three of them were able to get into the   
car. Clark spread the blanket over the passenger seat,   
helped Lois into it and climbed into the back. Perry   
hesitated a moment, then started the engine. It came to   
life with a purr, and he let out his breath. "Looks like   
there aren't any more surprises," he commented, starting to   
back out of the parking space. "Thanks for bein' on your   
toes, Clark."  
  
"No problem," Clark said. "I thought it would be a good   
idea to check, just in case. Intergang might have figured   
Lois would hitch a ride home with you."  
  
"Yeah." Perry concentrated on getting them out of the lot.   
"Lois, I want you to be careful. If Clark's right, they've   
decided they can do without you. Maybe you should come   
stay in my guest room tonight."  
  
Clark spoke up. "Why don't you just drop us at my place,   
Chief? She can stay there, until we're sure it's safe."  
  
Lois started to protest, but Clark added, quickly, "It's up   
to you, of course, Lois, but I'd feel better if you weren't   
at your apartment tonight. You never know what they'll   
try."   
  
She hesitated.  
  
"You stayed there when Kyle Griffin was after you," Clark   
pointed out, "and this is more of a threat than he was."  
  
"I guess." She yawned widely, covering it with the back of   
her hand. "You're right, Clark."  
  
"Good," Perry said. "Better check your place, too,"   
Clark."  
  
"I will," Clark assured him. "It looks to me like   
Intergang is pretty worried."  
  
"Or their assassin is," Perry said. "If it *is* Diana   
Stride, there's no telling what she'll do next."  
  
**********  
  
When Perry pulled up in front of Clark's apartment, he   
turned to Lois and paused. "I thought she'd gotten awfully   
quiet," he observed. Clark chuckled softly. He'd been   
aware for the past fifteen minutes that his partner was   
sound asleep.  
  
"Think I ought to wake her up or just carry her?" he   
whispered.  
  
Perry grinned. "Your call." The grin faded. "I'm glad   
she's staying with you tonight, Clark, but you watch   
yourself, too. If they're after her, you could wind up in   
the crossfire."  
  
"Don't worry, Chief. I can take care of myself--and her,"   
Clark assured him. "You just be careful getting home--  
although you're probably a lot safer without Mad Dog Lane   
in your car."  
  
Perry stifled a laugh. "You're probably right. You two   
take the morning off tomorrow. It's been a busy night.   
I'm going to give the hospital a call in the morning to see   
how Jimmy's doing."  
  
"They may not tell you anything if Mayson puts him under   
guard," Clark pointed out. "Lois and I will probably drop   
over there tomorrow morning before we come in to work."  
  
"Okay. Be careful, though. Until Intergang is sure Lois   
doesn't know anything, she's going to be a target."  
  
"I know. Trust me, Chief."  
  
"I do," Perry said. "And I don't say that about many   
people. 'Night, Clark."  
  
**********  
  
It was the indirect glow of sunlight coming through the   
window that woke Lois. She turned over and buried her face   
in the pillow. The alarm hadn't gone off, yet, so that   
meant she could go back to sleep for a few minutes before   
she had to get up.  
  
She had almost drifted off to sleep again, when her sense   
of smell picked up the scent of freshly brewed coffee and   
frying bacon. She opened her eyes.  
  
She was in Clark's bedroom, in his bed. After a moment of   
shock, she took in the fact that the other side of the bed   
hadn't had an occupant. Pushing back the covers, she   
discovered that she was wearing oversized sweats, and   
further investigation revealed that her underclothes were   
firmly in place. She blushed at the thought of Clark   
having put her into her night clothing, but he would hardly   
have wanted her to sleep in his bed with that much mud   
caked onto her other things.  
  
Come to think of it, where were they?--not that she wanted   
to wear them.   
  
She sat up, yawning and looking around. Her clothes of   
yesterday were nowhere to be seen, but one of her other   
outfits was lying neatly on a chair. Clark must have   
raided her apartment, she thought, and giggled to herself   
at the thought. If she knew her partner, rummaging in her   
lingerie drawer had probably caused him acute   
embarrassment.  
  
But, no. A paper bag, stapled shut, sat innocuously on the   
floor beside the chair, and the printing on the bag   
identified it as having come from Teresa's Clothing   
Emporium in Smallville. Emporium? Smallville didn't have   
anything large enough to be called an emporium, if she   
recalled correctly. Still, Clark almost certainly had   
asked his mother to purchase the more intimate items of   
ladies' apparel for him. Which raised another matter.   
What on Earth must Martha have thought?  
  
Deciding to table the subject before it became a full   
fledged mental babble, she slid her feet over the edge of   
the bed, noting as she did so that her cast had been   
cleaned, and so had the crutches that leaned against the   
wall next to the bed. Clark was nothing if not thorough,   
she reflected, reaching for them.  
  
There was a soft knock on the partition that divided the   
bedroom from the living space. Clark's voice said, "Lois?   
Are you decent?"  
  
"More or less." She glanced around as Clark appeared, a   
cup of coffee in his hand.  
  
"How did you sleep?" he asked.  
  
"Not bad," she said. "What happened to my clothes?"  
  
"They're in Smallville," he said. "Mom promised to take   
care of them for you."  
  
"Clark, you didn't! What will your Mom think?"  
  
"I explained it to her over the phone," he said. "I   
dropped them off this morning when I picked up the--um--  
things she bought for you."  
  
"This morning? What time is it?"  
  
"A few minutes to twelve." He nodded at the small clock on   
the nightstand. "Perry told me to let you sleep in." He   
added, "In case you're worried, I put the sweats on you   
before I pulled off the muddy things. I--"  
  
Naturally, she thought, although that must have taken some   
gymnastics on his part. She chuckled. "Boy scout. You've   
seen me in a bikini at the company picnic."  
  
"Well, yeah, but it's not the same." He was definitely   
blushing. "Anyway, I brought you coffee, and breakfast   
will be ready when you are."  
  
"Okay--wait a minute! How did you know my size?"  
  
This time, he raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty good at   
guessing--and as you pointed out, I *was* at the company   
picnic."  
  
"Oh. I didn't think you noticed."  
  
He set the coffee cup down on the little table. "I always   
noticed you, Lois--from the day we met. I couldn't help   
it. Remember when you told me not to fall for you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You were too late. As a matter of fact, you would have   
been too late about two seconds after you barged in on my   
interview. It was right then that I knew I had to stay in   
Metropolis."  
  
"Oh." There wasn't much she could say to that.  
  
He started for the living room. "There's a toothbrush in   
the bag, too. And a hairbrush and comb, and so forth.   
Take your time."   
  
**********  
  
Getting clean took more time than she anticipated. Clark   
didn't have a tub, but he'd put a large, plastic bag on the   
towel rack, along with a roll of adhesive tape, which   
allowed her to cover the cast long enough to take a thorough   
shower and wash her hair. When she finally emerged into   
the kitchen, clean and dressed, she saw that Clark had been   
as good as his word. A hot breakfast awaited her on the   
table and Clark was pouring her a second cup of coffee as   
she made her appearance. He looked up with a smile.   
"Nonfat creamer and Sweet n' Lo, just like at the office.   
Right?"  
  
She nodded and slipped into the chair he held for her. He   
must have kept track of her with his super-hearing, she   
thought, to have such superb timing. There were definitely   
advantages to having Superman for a partner.  
  
He set a bowl of chopped fruit on the table, and a plate of   
already buttered toast. "Would you like anything else?" he   
inquired.  
  
"No, this is fine." As a matter of fact, it was about   
twice as much as she usually ate, but she didn't say so.   
"Did you check out my apartment for bombs?" she asked.  
  
He nodded. "There wasn't anything--yet, anyway," he said.   
"Still, we need to do something to convince the assassin   
that you didn't see anything--although I'm not sure what.   
Otherwise you're going to be in danger until Jimmy or Mr. X   
testifies."  
  
Lois swallowed a mouthful of scrambled eggs. Clark was   
definitely some cook, all right. Her scrambled eggs always   
wound up dry, tasteless and sometimes scorched. "This is   
delicious, Clark." She took a sip of coffee, fixed just as   
she liked it, except that the coffee was of a far better   
quality than the kind in the coffee machine at work. "I   
really don't see how we can convince her, though," she   
said, reverting to the other subject. "I mean, even if I   
advertise to the whole world that I didn't see anything,   
she probably won't believe it. I mean, Sebastian Finn   
didn't believe I hadn't seen him murder Dr. Winninger. Or,   
at least, he wasn't willing to take the risk." She   
stopped. "You *did* save my life that night in front of my   
apartment, didn't you?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"When you said someone had shot at me and I didn't believe   
you, remember? I asked you what you had in your hands."  
  
"Oh, that. Yeah."  
  
"And I thought you were just being a nuisance. I should   
have known better. Have you checked on Jimmy, this   
morning?"  
  
"They wouldn't give me any information by phone, but   
Superman dropped by and made sure he was doing all right.   
He's awake, but they have him doped up on a lot of   
painkillers. I told him you and I would be by later."  
  
"But they're sure he's going to make it, aren't they?"  
  
"Barring any unforeseen complications, yes."  
  
"Or assassins," Lois said. "We need to trap her, Clark."  
  
"I know, but we're going to have to be careful. Remember,   
Mayson asked us to stay away from her."  
  
"If she'll let us. She's after Superman, too, remember?"  
  
"How could I forget?" He scowled into his cup of coffee.   
"This is getting more complicated all the time."  
  
"Well, she tagged you when you rescued her, before. One   
thing Superman shouldn't do is be alone with her. I don't   
trust her an inch."  
  
"Neither do I, but I'll be on my guard the next time."  
  
"Clark, I don't want you anywhere near her!"  
  
He regarded her with a smile. "I thought I was supposed to   
be protecting you."  
  
Lois glared at him. "We're protecting each other, and   
don't you forget it!"  
  
"Okay," he said, mildly. "You're right, of course. But I   
want you to promise you won't go after her by yourself,   
either."  
  
She scowled at him. "Just so long as we're both clear on   
the subject."  
  
**********  
  
"Hey, guys, thanks for the flowers." Jimmy smiled drowsily   
at Lois and Clark. "I'm sorry I caused all that trouble."  
  
"It's okay, Jimmy," Lois assured him. "Next time, though,   
remember you're not Superman."  
  
"Yeah, no kidding," Jimmy said. He blinked vaguely at   
them. "How long do I have to stay here, anyway?"  
  
"Until you're recovered enough from the surgery," Clark   
said. "You should probably enjoy the vacation while you   
have the chance. At least, the Planet is paying all your   
bills."  
  
"I'll bet Perry's mad," Jimmy said. "Was he here? I sort   
of remember..."  
  
"Yes, he was," Lois said. "But, he's not mad. Jimmy, did   
you see the shooter?"  
  
Jimmy yawned, his eyes beginning to close. "Yeah," he   
said. "I saw her."  
  
"*Her*?" Lois repeated. "Who was it?"  
  
Jimmy didn't answer. He started to snore, softly.  
  
"I don't think you're going to get any more information   
from him, right now" Clark said.  
  
"I guess not," Lois said. "We know who he's talking about,   
anyway. We need to find some way to catch her, Clark."  
  
"We'll think of something," Clark said. "Maybe we can talk   
to Jimmy this evening. He'll be more awake by then."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
He tapped an ear. "I heard the doctor talking about   
putting him on a milder painkiller."  
  
"Oh," Lois said. "Intergang probably knows that, too."  
  
"They might. They've got eyes everywhere. And ears."  
  
"She's going to be after him, as well as Mr. X."  
  
"I know." He glanced at Jimmy, now slumbering peacefully.   
"Let's go talk about this somewhere else, shall we?"  
  
"Probably a good idea," Lois said. "We have to get to work   
sometime today."  
  
They exited the hospital room in silence. The police guard   
at the door looked them over, expressionlessly.   
  
"You know," Lois said, suddenly, "I'd like to take a look   
at her place while she's at work."  
  
"Lo-is..."  
  
She ignored his tone. "Clark, we know what she's up to.   
If she's after Jimmy and Mr. X--and Superman, too--there   
might be some kind of evidence, or preparations, or--"  
  
He rang for the elevator. "I suppose if I won't go along   
with it, you'll go on your own, cast or no cast, right?"  
  
"I didn't get to be the Planet's top investigative reporter   
by letting a little thing like a broken ankle slow me   
down."  
  
Clark heaved a deep, resigned sigh. "Okay. When?"  
  
"Now is as good a time as ever."  
  
"Fine. Let's get this over with."  
  
**********  
  
The penthouse where Diana Stride lived was a high-security   
dwelling, with guards and security cameras galore. Clark   
and Lois avoided the pitfalls by the simple expedient of   
landing on the balcony outside the newswoman's living room.   
Lois inserted a credit card between the French windows to   
undo the latch.  
  
"There!" she announced as they drifted inside and her   
partner set her down on the thick, immaculate carpet.   
"When I think of all the places we could have gotten into   
if I'd known about your powers months ago..."  
  
"We *did* get into places because of my powers," Clark   
said. "How do you think I got us into Bureau 39's   
warehouse, back when we first met Trask?"  
  
Lois cocked her head thoughtfully at him. "I hadn't   
thought about that, but it figures. Okay, let's look this   
place over."  
  
Diana Stride's penthouse apartment was both beautiful and   
elegantly understated. A small alcove to one side of the   
living area held a graceful desk of cherry wood. Lois   
nodded at it. "That looks like the first place to check   
out."  
  
Clark strode across the rug to the desk and began opening   
drawers, checking the contents and replacing them precisely   
as they had been. Lois moved more slowly to the desk and   
stood by, watching her partner moving at about twice normal   
speed as he worked. She shook her head slightly.  
  
The bottom drawer yielded a small, cardboard box and as he   
reached for it, she saw him pause and then pull his hand   
back, frowning.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I...I don't know. My hand feels like it's burning."  
  
Her mental alarm bells were sounding. "Get back," she   
said, reaching for it. Clark hesitated and then obeyed.   
Lois opened the box.  
  
For a moment, she was puzzled. The object looked like a   
tube of lipstick. Slowly, she removed the cap, and the   
mystery was solved. The "lipstick" was green, impregnated   
with tiny, almost invisible specks of a sparkling, green,   
crystalline substance.  
  
"Is this what I think it is?" she asked.  
  
He moved closer, then backed away. "Kryptonite."  
  
Lois looked at the thing in her hand and then closed it   
quickly. "Clark, can you go get me a tube of green makeup   
of the same size?"  
  
"What are you going to do?"  
  
"I want to replace this stuff with something a little less   
dangerous. Then, let's see what Diana does with it."  
  
"Good idea. I'll be right back." He was gone in a flash.   
  
She hoped he wouldn't take long. If Diana Stride came   
back, she didn't want to be caught here. Slowly, she moved   
over to one of the chairs, sat down and began to examine   
what she held.  
  
From the outside, it looked like an ordinary lipstick, with   
a monogrammed gold case. Lois tugged at it experimentally.   
The case came off easily enough, and she wrapped the tube   
containing the Kryptonite-laced lipstick in a discarded   
tissue before tucking it into her purse. It didn't seem to   
have had as severe an effect on Clark as the piece they had   
encountered last week, courtesy of Nigel St. John, but   
perhaps that was because it was blended with the waxy   
paste. Why on Earth would Diana Stride want a tube of   
Kryptonite lipstick?   
  
She didn't like where that question led. If they were   
correct in their assumption that the woman was an assassin   
for Intergang, then the reason was pretty clear, even if   
the exact method might be in doubt. Superman had been a   
thorn in Intergang's side for a long time. Eliminating him   
was undoubtedly a very much-desired goal. Whether it was   
by way of exposing his other identity, or simply killing   
him, Diana Stride appeared to be out to do just that.  
  
A gust of air announced the return of her partner. Clark   
emerged from a small whirlwind and crossed the rug to her,   
a tube of green-colored lipstick in his hand. Lois raised   
an eyebrow at it, but took the proffered item. She'd seen   
people wearing this stuff, and always thought it looked a   
little strange, but it was just what she needed. Quickly,   
she pulled off the plastic case and thrust the tube down   
into the gold one. "How's that?"  
  
"Pretty good," was Clark's judgement. "It looks just like   
the other one."  
  
It did seem to be. She twisted the tube to extend the   
lipstick. "How did you make it sparkle like that?"  
  
"I used my heat vision to blend in some micro-crystalline   
quartz," he explained, looking smug.  
  
"Good thinking." She handed the tube back to him. "Here,   
put this back, and we can--" She broke off as she saw him   
lift his head. "What?"  
  
There was the rattle of a key in the door lock.  
  
Clark moved in a blur. In an instant, they were in the   
bedroom, and the tube of lipstick had vanished.  
  
"Where is it?" she whispered.  
  
"Where it belongs. Shh!"  
  
Lois could hear the sounds of the outer door opening and   
then closing again. Clark, standing beside her, had his   
glasses pushed down his nose and was apparently staring   
intently at the bedroom door. Even in the tension of the   
moment, she recalled the incident a few months previously   
when she had pretended to be a maintenance tech, sent to   
repair a copy machine at Viologic. Clark had accompanied   
her, and she recalled him staring at a blank wall in   
exactly that manner--undoubtedly watching someone on the   
other side, and listening to a conversation she hadn't been   
able to hear.  
  
And yet, for all his incredible abilities--abilities that   
would have let him run rings around her when it came to   
bringing in scoops on his own, had he chosen to do so--he'd   
never used the fact that he was Superman to beat her out of   
a story.  
  
Except once. The thought intruded suddenly, and she felt   
her face growing heated with shame.  
  
It had not been long after Clark joined the staff at the   
Planet. She'd still thought of him as a hick, a dull-  
witted hayseed who couldn't land a decent story to save his   
life. She'd been single-mindedly after the scoop on   
Superman, and had traded on his trust to steal his story   
about the double rescue that Superman performed that day.   
  
Lois felt her face growing warmer, and knew that if she   
were to look in the mirror, her cheeks would be scarlet.   
Her behavior had been abominable; she'd known that at the   
time but admitting it to Clark hadn't been an option back   
then. A few days later, however, she found out the hard   
way that her estimation of Clark Kent had been in error--to   
say the least. He had gotten the Superman interview, of   
course--all he had to do was to interview himself. She   
could hardly blame him now for having been unwilling to   
give it to her, and she would never, to the end of her   
days, forget those hours at the sewage reclamation   
facility--or the Godzilla doll. He'd punished her for her   
breach of journalistic etiquette, and he'd done it with   
style. Country boy he might be, but he was neither stupid   
nor afraid to stand up for himself. She respected him from   
that day on and after her sense of pique had subsided, had   
actually begun to like him. He'd never mentioned the   
incident again.  
  
He moved suddenly, startling her out of her recollections.   
She felt herself scooped up in his arms, and an instant   
later, they were floating outside the bedroom window of the   
penthouse. Clark gently closed the glass, and then headed   
straight up, the crutches dangling awkwardly from the hand   
under her knees.  
  
Lois caught her breath. "Wow!"  
  
"Sorry. She was on her way toward the bedroom. I figured   
I'd better get us out of there."  
  
"You figured right. What was going on in there?"  
  
He gave her a faint grin. "The first thing she did was go   
get the lipstick." He looked at her face and one eyebrow   
went up. "Is something wrong, Lois? You're blushing."  
  
"No," she lied. "Nothing. You were saying?"  
  
"Well, after she got the lipstick, she turned on her   
television set--only it was more like a videophone, or   
something. She was talking to the guy on the screen. From   
the conversation, I'd say he's some kind of middle   
management with Intergang."  
  
"What did he look like?"  
  
He shrugged. "Just a guy. But she apparently sent them a   
'device' to be worked on. It's supposed to be ready by   
tomorrow."  
  
"That thing you zapped yesterday?"  
  
"Could be. Let's get back to the Planet. I'd like to get   
rid of that thing you put in your purse. It stings."  
  
Lois held the purse a few inches farther away from him. "I   
think we should take it to Professor Hamilton."  
  
"You're thinking clearer than I am. You're right.   
Professor Hamilton it is."  
  
**********   
  
"Hmm..." Emil Hamilton examined the small tube of green   
lipstick with its tiny Kryptonite granules. "This is quite   
an unusual item. At a guess, I'd say it wasn't   
manufactured by a legitimate cosmetics company. At least   
not as part of their regular production line. You say you   
believe that the ingredients include Kryptonite?"  
  
"Take it from me, Professor," Clark said, "it's there. We   
want to know what else is in it and if possible who might   
have manufactured it."  
  
The little man shook his head. "All right, I'll do my   
best, Superman. But, what use would someone have for   
Kryptonite lipstick?"  
  
Lois shrugged. "Not a good one," she said. "Someone   
tagged Superman with a radioactive marker the other night,   
if you remember. We think it was the same person who had   
this."  
  
Hamilton fiddled with his glasses. "Would it be   
presumptuous if I were to say that this whole episode makes   
me very nervous? I can't think of any benevolent reason   
for someone to have this--or to have marked you   
radioactively, Superman."  
  
"Neither can I," Clark said. "When you have anything,   
please call Lois, right away."  
  
Professor Hamilton nodded, looking slightly agitated.   
"Certainly, Superman."  
  
**********   
  
Entering the newsroom sometime later, Clark glanced down at   
Lois who had begun to maneuver her way down the steps into   
the Pit. She made a face as she made it safely once more   
to level ground. "I'd forgotten how sore your arms get the   
first few days on crutches."  
  
"Well," he returned, "you haven't exactly been taking it   
easy, either."  
  
"Since when do I have time to take it easy?" she inquired.   
"And it's just as well for you that I don't."  
  
Clark might have argued, but, judging by the scowl on   
Lois's face, she wasn't in the mood for it. "Well, you can   
at least sit still and relax a little for a while, now."   
He pulled out her desk chair for her and held it while she   
lowered herself into it. "Better?"  
  
"A little. I can't help wonder what Diana Stride is going   
to do next, though."  
  
"Well, whatever it is, we want her to do it. She's not   
going to get very far without her lipstick."  
  
"If I didn't know better, that would sound pretty male   
chauvinist," Lois said, giving him a faint smile. "What   
are you going to do?"  
  
"That all depends on her," Clark said. "Whatever it is, I   
plan on cooperating with her--up to a point. That was a   
good idea of yours, Lois, so let's see where it goes. But,   
will you do me a favor in the meantime?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Be *really* careful. You're a target, too, and I can't be   
with you every minute. I don't know what I'd do if   
something happened to you."  
  
She looked up at him, seeming to be a little startled. "I   
can take care of myself, Clark."  
  
"Yes--usually." He reached out to rest his fingers on   
hers. "But, these are special circumstances. Promise me?"  
  
She made a little face. "You don't play fair, did you know   
that, Kent? All right, I promise to be careful."  
  
Well, that was a little reassurance, but, as Clark was well   
aware, Lois's idea of "careful" didn't always jibe with his   
own. Oh well, it was better than nothing...  
  
The elevator doors opened again at that moment and Perry,   
accompanied by Diana Stride, exited, laughing, followed by   
Rolf Landrieu, the cameraman. Perry looked around and   
Clark could have sworn he saw a relieved expression flit   
across his boss's face.  
  
"Ah, here they are!" Perry announced. "I wanted you to   
meet these two, Diana." He led the way over to Lois's   
desk, and Clark had to force himself to stay relaxed as   
their editor introduced the anchorwoman to them. "Clark   
Kent and Lois Lane--Diana Stride. Clark and Lois are   
friends of Superman's, so they can probably tell you more   
about him then anyone else here."  
  
Diana Stride was holding out a hand to Lois. "Lois Lane!   
I've always wanted to meet you! What happened to your   
foot?"  
  
"I broke it in a mine, last weekend," Lois said.  
  
"Oh, yes, I remember reading the article! The old Billy   
Moran heist!" Diana smiled her trademark smile, made   
famous by Top Copy. "How exciting that must have been!"  
  
"Well, that wasn't exactly what I'd have called it," Lois   
said, drily. "This is my partner, Clark Kent."  
  
Clark nodded to her. "Ms. Stride."  
  
"Diana," Diana Stride said. "I want to make time to   
interview both of you. You did hear that Top Copy is doing   
a tribute to Superman, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes, the news gets around," Clark said.  
  
"Oh, good! Then, I'll arrange to meet you for an   
interview, a little later. Will that be all right?"  
  
Apparently assuming that he would automatically agree with   
her request, she turned to Rolf. "Who's next on our   
schedule?"  
  
The cameraman consulted a slip of paper in his hand. "I   
believe, Deborah Kensington is next."  
  
"Oh, yes." Diana Stride turned away to seek out the   
slightly older woman who was crossing the Pit toward them.  
  
As the three moved away, talking, Clark looked at his boss,   
who was standing beside Lois's chair, his hands in his   
pockets. "You're awfully friendly with her, all of a   
sudden."  
  
"Yeah, well I've always believed that old adage--'Keep your   
friends close and your enemies closer'."  
  
"Makes sense," Lois said, softly. "I guess the next move   
is hers, now."  
  
"What do you mean?" Perry asked. "I take it you two have   
been busy this morning?"  
  
"Well, this afternoon," Lois amended.  
  
"Come into my office," Perry said. "Normally, I wouldn't   
be too involved in your business, but in this case, I think   
I'd like an update."  
  
Lois and Clark exchanged glances. Perry raised his   
eyebrows. "Am I the boss, or not?"  
  
Clark shrugged and gave Lois a hand to her feet. "I guess   
we should tell him what's going on."  
  
Lois reached for her crutches, but Perry retrieved them.   
"Here you go." He glanced casually at Diana Stride and   
grinned, cheerfully. The anchorwoman smiled briefly in   
return and resumed her conversation with Deborah. The   
cameraman was watching them, as well, and to Clark's   
discomfort the man met his eyes, then deliberately looked   
him up and down from head to foot. Suppressing the slight   
feeling of something crawling on the back of his neck, he   
followed Lois and Perry toward the editor's office.  
  
When the door closed behind them, Perry deliberately turned   
the locking lever and walked slowly around to settle into   
his desk chair. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on   
the desk and his chin on his fists. "Have a seat," he   
said. "I want to know what you two have been up to."  
  
His two top investigative reporters looked at each other.   
"All of it?" Clark asked.  
  
Perry nodded. "I think this whole thing has gotten to the   
stage where I need to know details."  
  
Lois and Clark looked at each other again, and Clark   
nodded, a little reluctantly. "Why don't you tell him,   
Lois?" He took the crutches she handed him and gave her a   
hand while she lowered herself into the nearest chair. His   
partner met his eyes as he did so and he hoped she   
understood the message he was trying to convey. Superman   
didn't lie, and he was almost as uncomfortable telling   
half-truths. He'd done it for years, but that didn't mean   
he wanted to. Lois, on the other hand, had no such   
difficulties. She smiled faintly and began speaking   
without hesitation.  
  
"I guess it started night before last, Chief. Superman   
dropped by my place to ask Clark and me for some help..."  
  
Perry's expression didn't change. "Go on."  
  
Quickly, she explained about the radioactive substance with   
which Diana Stride had tagged Superman. "That was why we   
suspected something wasn't kosher when she showed up   
yesterday morning, and when our source at City Hall told us   
that the assassin was famous, we were both a little   
suspicious. Then, of course, her name popped up when Jimmy   
ran that search on the assassinated leaders, so Jimmy and I   
trailed her--and you know what happened, then," Lois   
continued. "So, Clark and I decided to do a search of her   
penthouse, this afternoon--"  
  
"How did you--no," Perry interrupted himself, "I don't want   
to know anything about how you managed to get into a high   
security building without getting caught. So, I take it   
you found something?"  
  
"Yeah," Lois said. "Kryptonite lipstick."  
  
"What?"  
  
"She had a tube of green lipstick that Superman said had   
Kryptonite in it."  
  
Perry frowned. "He was sure?"  
  
Clark nodded. "He was positive, Chief."  
  
"That doesn't sound good," Perry said, stating the obvious.   
"What did you do with it?"  
  
"Who said we did anything with it?" Lois asked.  
  
Her editor merely lifted an eyebrow. Lois grinned   
guiltily. "We substituted a fake, with Superman's help.   
Professor Hamilton has the real one. Now, we want to see   
what happens."  
  
"Not a bad idea," Perry said, slowly.   
  
"We thought so," Lois said.  
  
Perry sat up. "Good work. If she's the assassin--and I'd   
bet my pension that she is--then we've got a pretty good   
idea what she's up to. Superman's just the latest in a   
long line of important people on her interview list and we   
all know what happened to them. Still, you might want some   
kind of proof that she's up to no good."  
  
"And that would be...?"  
  
Their editor frowned thoughtfully. "Let me get back to you   
on that. And, Clark, do you think you could get hold of   
Superman for me?"  
  
"Sure, Chief. When?"  
  
"Say in about half an hour." He looked pensive. "If she's   
planning on using Kryptonite lipstick to kill Superman,   
there's only one way I can think of that she could manage   
it. Talk about the kiss of death..."   
  
**********  
  
The light on the telephone answering machine was blinking   
when Lois and Clark arrived at his apartment, that   
afternoon and when Clark answered it, it was no surprise to   
hear Diana Stride's voice issuing from the speaker.   
  
"Well, there it is," Lois said. "Please be careful,   
Clark."  
  
He nodded, reassuringly. "Don't worry. We got rid of the   
dangerous stuff, remember."  
  
"I don't trust her, Clark. She didn't get to be   
Intergang's top assassin by being stupid. Don't let your   
guard down for an instant, understand?"  
  
"I do, and I won't." He stepped back and began to spin.   
The grey of Clark's suit became a blur of red and blue, and   
when he stopped, Superman stood there. Lois released her   
breath.   
  
"Wow. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to that." She   
stepped forward and rested a hand on his chest. "You know,   
it's funny--I know I'm talking to Clark, but sometimes it's   
hard to see him behind Superman."  
  
"I'm always Clark, Lois."  
  
"I know." She hesitated and then continued, trying to put   
into words some of the things that she had been thinking   
about since his revelation in the mine. "When I thought   
you were two people, I admired Superman tremendously. He   
had all the qualities I looked for in a man--but when   
Johnny Corbin attacked Superman, and I was explaining to   
you why I cared about him--it suddenly occurred to me that   
you had them all, too. You were what Superman might be   
like, if he had no powers."  
  
"I remember." He was smiling at her--Clark's smile, she   
thought. How had she ever missed that? "That was when I   
really started to hope that maybe you were beginning to see   
me as something more than a partner."  
  
"I was. The thing I didn't say--maybe because I wasn't   
really ready to admit it--was that I suddenly realized that   
Clark mattered to me as much as Superman. It upset me that   
Johnny Corbin had hurt Superman, but it upset me just as   
much that he hurt Clark, when he kidnapped you. I didn't   
know which one was the most important to me. I thought I   
knew which man I loved--up until then. Do you have any   
idea how confusing it was? And you both ran away from me   
whenever I tried to get close to one or the other of you.   
I came within inches of murdering you both! That should   
have told me the truth right there, you know--that both of   
you made me want to wring your necks!"  
  
"Do you still want to?" he asked.  
  
"It wouldn't matter if I did. Besides, I've got the rest   
of my life to pay you back for it." She poked him in the   
chest. "So, you make sure you're careful, Superman! I   
haven't said nearly as much as I intend to."  
  
Clark's smile had broadened as she spoke. "I like that   
'rest of your life' thing. I promise I'll be careful,   
Lois--if only to give you the satisfaction of yelling at   
me, later."  
  
"Just be sure you are!" She glared at him to hide the   
worry she felt, knowing he would see right through it as he   
always did. He leaned forward slightly, brushing her cheek   
with the tips of his fingers. Almost by instinct, she   
lifted her face as he did so, and felt his lips touch hers   
with an almost electric jolt. The caress--intended to be   
reassuring, she was sure--grew longer and more intense,   
until she was in danger of running out of air. Clark   
straightened up, and Lois gave a little gasp. "And," she   
said, when she had caught her breath, "that's another   
reason to come back here as soon as you can!"  
  
**********  
  
Rolf was waiting for him when he landed. A table had been   
set with china and crystal, and the cameraman was pouring   
wine, but he turned as Clark stepped inside, and looked him   
up and down. Clark experienced the same crawling feeling   
on the back of his neck as he had this afternoon.   
  
"Diana will be here in just a minute," he said. "In the   
meantime, can I get you some wine? It's not a bad Merlot."  
  
Clark folded his arms. "No, thank you, Rolf."  
  
The man grunted and put down the decanter. Without   
hesitation, he drained the wineglass and set it on the   
table. He seemed to hesitate, then apparently made up his   
mind and moved closer to Clark. "You know," he said, in a   
lower voice, "as long as I have you here, there is   
something I have always wanted to ask you." He smiled, and   
Clark fought the urge to squirm. "When I wear my very   
tightest ski pants, I always get--well--chafed. Do you   
find that this happens to you?"  
  
Clark moved away as casually as he could manage. "No," he   
said, "but it helps to be invulnerable."  
  
"Hmm." Rolf's voice was punctuated by the sound of the   
double doors behind him opening, and Clark couldn't help   
his eyes widening slightly as Diana Stride made her   
entrance. The wall behind her was emblazoned with the   
words "Top Copy", and she posed for a split second in front   
of it before she came forward, moving with the ease of a   
stalking cat. She was dressed in a long, low cut dress   
that revealed her figure to the best advantage, and he had   
to admit that physically, she was a very beautiful woman.   
If she hadn't been what she was, he could have admired what   
he saw. As it was, he regarded her warily.  
  
She didn't seem to notice. Instead, she smiled gently and   
spoke to her cameraman. "Rolf, I'd like to be alone with   
Superman."  
  
Rolf gave Clark another head to toe look and spoke a phrase   
in French. "What girl wouldn't?"  
  
Clark, who's French was as flawless as his English, ignored   
the other man and focussed his attention on the real enemy,   
as the cameraman sauntered from the room. Diana rolled her   
eyes as he passed, but said nothing more until the double   
doors closed behind him. Then, she moved gracefully toward   
Clark.  
  
"Ms. Stride," he said.  
  
"Diana." She smiled seductively.  
  
Clark reminded himself that he was supposed to be here for   
an interview regarding Top Copy's supposed tribute to   
Superman. "I know your story isn't a tribute. It's an   
attempt to expose me."  
  
"Expose you?" She laughed softly. "Do you have something   
to hide?"  
  
"We all have something to hide, Ms. Stride--some of us for   
the good of others and some of us for their own gain." He   
paused. "I'm here to tell you, Ms. Stride, drop the   
story."  
  
Diana's lips drooped and she lowered her eyes. "Superman   
I--I can't." She turned away, the picture of dejection.   
If he hadn't been watching, he wouldn't have noticed the   
small, gold lipstick case in her hand. "You see, if I drop   
this story, I'm going to lose my show, and that's all I   
have." She removed the cap from the lipstick, holding it   
casually while she continued her act. "When you want so   
much from life and then you get so much more than you   
expected--the thought of having it all taken away--" Diana   
lifted the tube to her lips and applied the lipstick. "--  
Can make you do things--things you never even thought you   
were capable of." She gave a little sob and dropped her   
face into her hand. It was chilling to Clark to realize   
how coldly she was going about this attempt to kill him--  
all the while pretending to be a vulnerable, helpless   
woman. If it hadn't been for Lois's discovery of the   
radioactive tag that she had placed on him, he would have   
no idea of what she had planned. There was a reason, he   
reminded himself, for his partner's unrivalled status as   
the top investigative reporter at the Daily Planet--or any   
other newspaper in Metropolis--and a reason for the respect   
in which he held her.   
  
Diana lifted her head, muffling another sob. Clark had to   
admire her acting ability. If he hadn't known she was up   
to no good, he would have been completely fooled. Still,   
the sight of a woman crying went against the grain, and, he   
reminded himself again, he wasn't supposed to know about   
her other job.  
  
"Please, don't cry," he said, awkwardly.  
  
She turned. "That's why I did this--or maybe it's because   
I'm no damn good."  
  
"There's good in everyone," Clark said.  
  
She moved quickly, pressing her lips against his and in   
that instant, he felt it--the sting of Kryptonite. He   
jerked away in near panic, belatedly realizing what she had   
done as weakness swept over him and he stumbled back and   
went to his knees. Somehow, she must have detected the   
substitution and replaced the harmless lipstick with   
another.   
  
Diana Stride was speaking, but he wasn't listening. He   
staggered to his feet and lurched desperately toward the   
railing of the balcony outside the studio window, hearing   
Diana's soft, mocking laughter behind him. He half-fell   
over the railing and plummeted like a stone for a hundred   
feet before he regained some measure of equilibrium and   
managed to brake his fall to the pavement, thirty stories   
below. Fighting desperately to maintain his altitude and   
barely able to keep to a level flight, he wavered toward   
his apartment with only one thought in his mind. He had to   
make it to Lois. She was the only one who might be able to   
help him, now.   
  
**********   
  
Lois lowered herself onto the couch in Clark's living area,   
elevated her broken ankle on the ottoman and glanced at her   
wristwatch for the third time in five minutes. The   
television muttered in the background, but she wasn't   
paying attention to the state of the world economy or even   
the local news. Clark hadn't been gone long, but she knew   
she wouldn't be able to relax until he got back.  
  
The teapot sat on the coffee table along with a teacup and   
saucer, where Clark had put them before he left. She   
picked it up and poured herself a cup. She probably   
shouldn't drink it, she thought, stirring a teaspoon of   
artificial sweetener into the liquid. She was nervous   
enough already, but she gulped it down anyway and poured   
another cup. Although Clark hadn't been enthusiastic about   
the idea, they had decided to play out the game with Diana   
Stride. The fact that she had chosen lipstick as her   
weapon of choice had, as Perry pointed out, pretty much   
given away her avenue of attack. The thought of allowing   
the woman to kiss him gave Clark cold chills, but he'd   
agreed that it might be a way to make her betray herself.   
It would be safe enough, Lois told herself for the fiftieth   
time. They had pulled the assassin's fangs when they had   
taken her Kryptonite lipstick away. But, if she thought   
she had managed to poison Superman, she might say something   
that would interest the district attorney. All Clark had   
to do was to leave behind the bug that Perry had supplied   
him with, earlier that afternoon. It might be enough to   
have her taken out of circulation long enough for Jimmy to   
give his sworn statement and make the value of killing him   
a moot point.   
  
The smash of glass and a heavy thud from Clark's sleeping   
area made her jerk around in shock, dropping the teacup to   
the rug. She didn't even notice as she struggled to her   
feet and around the partition.  
  
Clark, clad in the Superman suit, was on his hands and   
knees on the floor. She nearly fell over a footstool that   
had somehow gotten in her way as she tried to hurry to his   
side. "Ohmigod, Clark, what happened?"  
  
He hauled himself painfully to a chair and sank into it,   
and she could see that the healthy color had drained from   
his face. He was breathing heavily. Lois rested the back   
of her hand on his cheek. "You're burning up! What did   
she do?"  
  
He leaned his head back against the wall. "Somehow she   
found out that we switched lipsticks. She had another--"  
  
"Ohmigod--"  
  
"Lois--the Kryptonite--it's inside me."  
  
Lois stared at him, aghast. Then, in typical Mad Dog Lane   
style, she sprang into action. "Come on."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"We're going to the hospital. We have to get that stuff   
out of you before it gets into your system."  
  
"Lois, I can't go to the hospital--besides, what would they   
do?"  
  
"The same thing they did to Lucy the time she ate a bottle   
of baby aspirin! They pumped her stomach. Come on,   
there's not much time!"  
  
"I can't--"  
  
"Yes, you can," Lois said. "Clark can't go to the   
hospital, but there's no reason *Superman* can't. They   
*know* he's an alien, and there's no way I'll let anybody   
dissect you! Now, let's go!"  
  
**********  
  
The trip to the hospital was a nightmare that Lois would   
never forget. Traffic was heavy at this time of the   
evening and it seemed as if every stoplight was against   
them. Finally, just as she was about to cross the double   
line to get around a row of stopped cars, she spotted a   
motorcycle cop and decided that this time, she could use   
the police force to help.  
  
"Officer!" She raised her voice to be heard over the blare   
of horns and the other noises of Metropolis's rush hour.   
Waving and flashing her lights, she frantically signaled   
the man, and just when she thought that she had failed to   
attract his attention, he wheeled his cycle around and   
rolled up to her window. "Yeah, lady?"  
  
"Officer, I'm Lois Lane from the Daily Planet. I've got an   
emergency."  
  
The man looked past her and his eyes widened slightly. "Is   
that--?"  
  
Clark was leaning back in the seat, his eyes closed. Lois   
nodded, vigorously. "It's Superman, officer. He's been   
poisoned. I have to get him to the emergency room fast!   
Please help me!"  
  
The man looked doubtful. "I didn't think anything could   
hurt Superman."  
  
Clark opened his eyes slightly. "Kryptonite--" he   
whispered.  
  
"Do you remember the stuff I wrote about--Kryptonite?" Lois   
asked, quickly. "It's real, and it's going to kill him, if   
I don't get him to a doctor!"  
  
The motorcycle officer hesitated for an instant, then   
seemed to make up his mind and nodded. "Follow me." His   
siren and lights came to life and the motorcycle rolled   
forward, cars pulling to the sides of the street to let him   
through. Lois followed.  
  
Later, Lois would recall what followed only as a set of   
confused memories. Somehow, they made it to the hospital   
and Superman was rushed away on a gurney with a doctor   
issuing terse orders to white-coated personnel. Lois found   
herself ushered gently to a hard, plastic chair by the   
motorcycle cop, whom she now realized couldn't be much   
older than her--he was probably younger, actually, judging   
by his unlined, almost boyish face.  
  
"Are you all right, Ms. Lane?" he asked.  
  
She nodded, feeling a little numb.  
  
"Do you care to tell me what happened?" he asked.  
  
"I don't know, exactly," Lois said. "Superman came to me   
for help. He said he'd been poisoned with Kryptonite.   
You'll have to get the story from him, I guess."  
  
The man nodded. "All right. I'll have to make a report."  
  
She nodded without answering. To her annoyance, she could   
feel herself starting to shake. The young cop apparently   
noticed, for he rose to his feet and went to the water   
cooler. A moment later, he handed her a paper cup of   
lukewarm liquid. "Here, drink this. Superman's in good   
hands, Ms. Lane."  
  
Again she nodded and drank the water. "Thanks. And thanks   
for helping me."  
  
"Hey, no problem. Superman's done a lot for us guys on the   
force. I'm glad I could help."  
  
**********  
  
"Ms. Lane?"  
  
Lois looked up from the magazine she had been thumbing   
absently through. A middle-aged woman was standing in the   
doorway through which Superman had disappeared, nearly an   
hour ago. "Yes?"  
  
"Dr. Patinkin would like to speak to you."  
  
"Oh--okay." Lois hoisted herself to her feet. Maybe the   
doctor would have some news about Clark, she thought as she   
maneuvered her way toward the door. The wall clock told   
her that she had been waiting for fifty-three minutes, but   
it seemed much longer. The woman held the door for her and   
as she went by, Lois glanced at her name tag, which   
identified her as Norma Yale, LVN.   
  
"How's Superman?" she asked, the instant the panel closed.  
  
"Dr. Patinkin will answer your questions," the other woman   
replied, without changing her expression. "You're that   
reporter from the Daily Planet, aren't you?"   
  
"Yes, but that's not why I'm here," Lois said. "Superman's   
a friend of mine."  
  
Nurse Yale appeared to consider. "I guess I've heard that.   
All right, I'm not supposed to say anything, but he's doing   
all right, so far."  
  
"Thanks," Lois said, relaxing slightly.   
  
"Sure. Come this way, please."  
  
Dr. Patinkin was a short, slightly chubby woman with an air   
of competence that Lois found reassuring. She was sitting   
behind a cluttered desk, reading a chart when the nurse   
escorted Lois into her office, but put it down at once when   
Lois maneuvered her awkward way into the room. "Ms. Lane?"  
  
Lois nodded. "Yes. How's Superman?"  
  
The doctor frowned slightly. "Have a seat, Ms. Lane. I   
need to ask a few things. Superman appears quite uneasy   
and reluctant to answer questions. He's resting at the   
moment, and after we've spoken, I'll have someone take you   
to his cubicle."  
  
"Resting?"  
  
The doctor nodded. "Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't   
be telling you this, but since he hasn't anyone else to   
notify in case of emergency, and since he's listed you, and   
a Mr. Perry White, as the closest thing he has to a 'next   
of kin', I believe I can make a limited exception. I   
believe we managed to clear the poisonous substance from   
his stomach before much of it could get into his   
bloodstream. What can you tell me about this   
'Kryptonite'?"  
  
"Not a lot," Lois said. "I know it's part of his home   
planet. Apparently, it's the only thing that can hurt   
him."  
  
"He told me that," Dr. Patinkin said. "How dangerous is it   
to humans?"  
  
"As far as I know, it isn't," Lois said.   
  
She nodded, thoughtfully. "Tell me--Superman wasn't very   
forthcoming. How did this happen?"  
  
Lois hesitated. "I don't know the details. Apparently,   
someone tried to kill him."  
  
"You're certain of that?"  
  
"Positive. Why?"  
  
The doctor smiled, drily. "I needed it for my report.   
It's a state law--I have to report suspicious cases of   
poisoning."  
  
"Well, I think Superman's going to report it when he can.   
Is he going to be all right?" Lois held her breath.  
  
"I believe so." Dr. Patinkin tapped her pen against the   
chart. "I can't be absolutely certain there won't be any   
after effects, of course. I want to keep him under   
observation overnight for other possible complications, at   
least until morning, but he appears very reluctant to stay.   
If this weren't Superman, I'd think he was apprehensive of   
the suggestion. Can you think of any reason why?"  
  
"Um--I'm not sure."  
  
The doctor regarded her for a moment. "If you have any   
idea, I'd like to hear it. It would be safer for him to be   
here, if complications arise. If there's anything we can   
do to make him more comfortable--"  
  
"Maybe I could talk to him," Lois said.  
  
"I was going to suggest that. I realize Superman is   
reluctant to tell strangers much about himself--" The   
doctor smiled. "Still, if we're to do our best for him,   
there are certain things we need to know."  
  
"I don't think it has anything to do with what happened,"   
Lois said. "Superman--has his reasons. I can't really   
talk about it. He wouldn't like it."  
  
"All right." Dr. Patinkin got to her feet. "You should   
also know," she added, "that someone apparently alerted the   
media to Superman's presence here. There's a mob of   
reporters outside."  
  
Lois hoisted herself to her crutches once more. "I should   
have expected that. I'm sorry."  
  
The doctor smiled, grimly. "That's all right. Security   
can handle them."  
  
**********  
  
Clark was still lying on the narrow emergency room bed,   
looking pale and drawn when Lois entered his cubicle. He   
opened his eyes when he saw her.   
  
"Hi," she said. "How do you feel?"  
  
He swallowed. "Okay." His voice sounded hoarse.   
  
Lois glanced around, making sure the curtains behind her   
were completely closed and moved closer to his bed. "You   
don't sound okay." She spoke in a low voice. "I've never   
heard you with a hoarse throat before."  
  
He made a face. "I'll explain when we get out of here."  
  
"Superman," she began, mindful of listening ears, "Dr.   
Patinkin wants you to stay overnight for observation. I   
think you should."  
  
"Lois, I don't want to," he said, his voice lowered to a   
bare thread of sound. "My powers are gone again. Some of   
the Kryptonite must have gotten into my system."  
  
Lois checked the curtains once more to be sure they were   
closed. "Superman, that's all the more reason you should   
stay." She bit her lip. "The doctor wants to be sure   
there aren't any complications. *I* want to be sure there   
aren't."  
  
For a moment, he looked rebellious but finally, he sighed.   
"I know. I guess I should, but you know how I feel about--  
"  
  
She released the handle of one of the crutches and clasped   
his hand. "No one is going to 'dissect you like a frog'.   
No one could do anything like that to you, even if they   
were the kind to try, and I don't believe they are. The   
doctor I spoke with wants to help. Please let her."  
  
He hesitated a long moment. "You're right, of course. I   
know it's irrational."  
  
"Then, you'll stay?"  
  
"I guess so." He cleared his throat. "I actually don't   
feel too bad. You had a good idea, Lois--even if it wasn't   
comfortable. What would I do without you?"  
  
"Just remember that, the next time you think one of my   
ideas is too out there," Lois said.  
  
"I'll try to," Clark said. "One thing's for sure--I'm   
really learning to appreciate being invulnerable, now that   
I'm not."  
  
Someone twitched the curtains. Dr. Patinkin said, "May I   
come in?"  
  
"Sure," Clark said.  
  
The doctor pushed aside the curtains. "I hope Ms. Lane has   
convinced you to stay overnight, Superman?"  
  
"I guess." Clark's assent clearly lacked enthusiasm. The   
doctor smiled sympathetically.  
  
"I know you probably aren't happy at the idea, Superman,   
but it's important. We don't know anything about what the   
effects of your ingesting this substance can be.   
Metropolis needs Superman in good health."  
  
He sighed. "I suppose so. All right, I'll stay for   
tonight, but if nothing has turned up by morning--"  
  
"That seems reasonable," Dr. Patinkin said. "I'll have   
someone take you to a room for the night. Since the media   
knows you're here, I'm going to admit you under another   
name--just in case any of them manage to slip past   
Security."   
  
"In the meantime," Lois said, "maybe I should bring you   
some pajamas. I don't think you want to wear one of those   
drafty hospital gowns." The expression on his face said it   
all. "Right. I'll ask Clark if you can borrow some of his   
sweats. He's about your size."  
  
"Thanks," Clark said. "And Lois--be careful. Remember,   
you're still a target."  
  
"I haven't forgotten," Lois said. "I'll be careful."  
  
**********  
  
That thought stayed with her as she left the hospital   
through a side door to avoid the press. The vivid memory   
of the bomb under the hood of Perry's car made her summon a   
cab to take her to Clark's apartment and return her to the   
hospital forty-five minutes later. Clark was gratifyingly   
relieved to receive the clothing but, although she would   
have willingly stayed, visiting hours had ended and she was   
forced to leave. Again, she summoned a cab to take her to   
her apartment. As the taxi pulled up in front of her place   
on Carter Avenue, another thought made her pause.  
  
She was a target. Clark had reminded her of the fact, and   
she was learning not to underestimate Diana Stride.  
  
"Here we are, lady," the cabby said. "That'll be thirty-  
two-eighty."  
  
"I've changed my mind," she said, after a moment. "Take me   
to 344 Clinton."  
  
The cabby grunted. "Okay; it's your money."  
  
Five minutes later, the cab stopped in front of Clark's   
apartment. "Here you go, lady."  
  
Lois paid the fare, added a modest tip and got out. The   
street was dark, and quiet. She turned to the driver.   
"Would you wait until I get inside?"  
  
He shrugged. "Sure. No problem."  
  
She was beginning to be able to work the crutches more   
efficiently and it took only a couple of minutes to make   
her way to the door of Clark's place. With his spare key,   
she unlocked the door and went in, closing it behind her.  
  
The apartment was chilly, and she remembered that Clark's   
window had been broken. Hopefully, it wasn't visible to   
anyone passing by outside. As a precaution, she turned on   
lights and made a complete tour of the apartment, after   
which she concluded that she was the only person who had   
been here since she and Clark had left, almost four hours   
earlier.  
  
The broken window, however, didn't make her feel any safer.   
A call to Clark's landlord, and some mendacious talk of   
vandals, brought that gentleman, complaining loudly at the   
lateness of the hour, to Clark's place to make temporary   
repairs with a sheet of cardboard and duct tape. It wasn't   
perfect, Lois thought, but it would keep the cold out until   
tomorrow, when she could call a repairman.  
  
After the man had left, she spent some time arranging a   
crude alarm in front of the window and, leaving the living   
room light burning, pulled on one of Clark's sweatshirts   
and a pair of sweat pants, heedless of the fact that she   
might as well be wearing a tent, and crawled into his bed.   
If Diana Stride was looking for her, she might think to   
look at Clark's apartment, but she was less likely to try   
to come in here, because she had no reason to believe that   
Clark wasn't here. Still, Lois spent a long time straining   
her ears for any sounds that might indicate someone was   
trying to get in, before fatigue finally claimed her and   
she slept uneasily, until morning.   
  
**********   
  
The first rays of sunlight illuminating the apartment  
brought her groggily awake. It had not been the most   
restful night of her life, but a cold shower opened   
her eyes and after a cup of coffee, she began to feel   
almost human.  
  
The kitchen clock said it was barely six-thirty, but there   
would be people at the Daily Planet, even this early. She   
glanced down at the rumpled clothing that she had worn   
yesterday and shook her head. Sooner or later, she was   
going to have to go back to her place but she would rather   
wait until Clark had his powers back and was able to check   
it for bombs and other booby traps. She had a change of   
clothing at work, so that was where she would go. First,   
though, she gathered up some nondescript clothing for Clark   
to change into at the hospital and stuffed it into a paper   
bag to carry with her.  
  
Fortunately, since she was in no shape to walk the distance   
to the Daily Planet, she spotted a cab within minutes of   
stepping out onto the sidewalk. She gave the driver the   
address and sat back, trying to decide what her next move   
should be.  
  
If she was any judge, Clark wasn't going to want to stay in   
the hospital any longer than he absolutely had to. Not   
only was he uncomfortable with just the concept, but there   
was always the chance that Diana Stride would follow him   
there to finish the job. It wasn't likely that the   
pseudonym that Dr. Patinkin had used to admit him would   
fool the assassin for long. She hadn't been as successful   
as she was by letting that sort of thing stymie her.  
  
Of course, she was after Mr. X and probably Jimmy, as well.   
And, Lois reminded herself, she was also a target.  
  
The cab pulled up in front of the Daily Planet before she   
had come to any real decisions. She paid the driver and   
got out, glancing irritably at the clouded sky. A cold   
drizzle, accompanied by the occasional tiny, hard grain   
that might be ice wasn't making the day any more pleasant.   
Slowly, and carefully, she crossed the sidewalk toward the   
main door of the Daily Planet.  
  
The sidewalk was wet and slippery, and she was relieved   
when she was finally inside. The smooth, tiled floor of   
the Planet's lobby wasn't any better, though. The passage   
of the newspaper's employees had tracked dirty water across   
surface, making the going as hazardous for a woman on   
crutches as it had been outside. A custodian with a mop   
and bucket was in the process of attempting to clean up the   
mess, and she could hear him muttering under his breath as   
people tracked their way through his efforts on the way to   
the elevator.  
  
She made her way to the lockers, ignoring the curious   
glances of fellow employees. Her locker contained a   
complete change of clothing, and a short time later,   
attired in a fresh outfit that was suitable for the office,   
she was headed to the newsroom floor. Since her partner   
was in the hospital in his other identity, she needed to   
make a plausible excuse for him to Perry.  
  
Her editor was in fine form this morning. As she emerged   
from the elevator, she heard his voice berating Eduardo for   
his inability to manage to write two different articles   
simultaneously, and the sports editor for some error of   
commission or omission.  
  
"Hey, Lane, where's Kent?" Ralph inquired, smirking. "He   
forget to return a video or something, again?"  
  
Lois turned to survey the man the same way she would a   
cockroach that had somehow gotten into the newsroom. "He's   
working. Which is more than I can say for you." Not   
bothering to wait for a reply, she descended the steps   
carefully and crossed the floor to where her boss was now   
chewing out the business editor. Leaning on her crutches,   
she broke into the monologue when he paused to take a   
breath. "Perry, can I talk to you for a minute?"  
  
Perry cut short his tirade, to Bob Freeman's obvious   
relief. "I hope it's important. Speaking of which, do you   
and Clark have anything more on that business we discussed,   
yesterday?"  
  
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. In private."   
Lois turned and started for his office. She had already   
decided on her story. She would follow Clark's example--  
the truth, but not all of it. Her partner was definitely   
having a bad influence on her, she reflected, with a flash   
of humor.  
  
Perry closed the door behind them. "What's goin' on, Lois?   
I'm hearin' rumors that Superman was admitted to Metro   
General last night, but the hospital spokesman's denyin' it   
and nobody's seen him since. And where's Clark?"  
  
Lois took her time sitting down in one of the hard, wooden   
chairs, rather than an armchair. The wooden ones, she had   
discovered, were a lot easier to get out of. She took a   
deep breath and launched into her story.  
  
"Superman's in the hospital, Perry. I drove him there last   
night. Diana Stride apparently discovered our substitution   
of the lipstick. When I left, he was doing all right, but   
they were going to keep him for the night. I have to get   
over there in a few minutes. Clark will probably be in   
later. He was at the hospital all night--trying to avoid   
being noticed."  
  
"Judas Priest! What happened? Is Superman going to be all   
right?"  
  
Lois leaned back in the chair. "I hope so. He seemed to   
be recovering when I left, but his powers were gone. He   
thinks they'll come back--but he doesn't know when. As far   
as I know, he's planning on checking out this morning.   
That's why I'm going over there; I'm going to take him some   
clothes so he can avoid the press."  
  
Perry stared at her for a minute. "You're taking this all   
pretty calmly."  
  
She gave a humorless laugh. "I think I pretty much   
overloaded my panic circuits, last night."  
  
"I suppose." Her boss scratched his chin, thoughtfully.   
"Not to seem insensitive, but, do you happen to know if   
Superman managed to plant our bug on the lady?"  
  
"I don't know. I'll find out when I see him. Clark will   
probably know."  
  
"It seems to me that the DA has enough evidence at this   
point to hold Diana Stride for suspicion of attempted   
murder," Perry said. "If Superman wants to testify, that   
is."  
  
"I don't think there's much hope of his trying to keep   
Kryptonite a secret any longer," Lois said. "The criminals   
seem to know it exists, anyway. Maybe he'll report it--if   
he can get Mayson Drake to listen."  
  
"Well, she may not like him, but that's a far cry from   
wanting him dead," Perry pointed out.   
  
"I guess," Lois said. "Anyway, I'd better get over to the   
hospital. I've got some of Clark's jeans and a T-shirt   
with me. With luck, Superman will be able to get out of   
there without the press mobbing him."  
  
"Good idea. See if he'll give you an interview," Perry   
said. "By the way, what's the story on Mr. X--and Jimmy?"  
  
"They're still under guard as far as I know," Lois said.   
"The last I heard, Jimmy's supposed to talk to the DA   
sometime this afternoon."  
  
**********  
  
The drizzle had grown a little heavier when Lois left the   
Daily Planet and flagged down a taxi. Even wearing a cast   
on her leg she hadn't lost her touch, she thought as a   
vehicle screeched to a stop in front of her in response to   
her whistle. She opened the rear door and crawled clumsily   
into the seat, glad to be under cover again. The driver   
glanced over his shoulder at her.  
  
"Where to, lady?"  
  
"Metro General," Lois said, closing the door on the wet   
weather.  
  
The cab started up with a squeal of tires as the driver   
peeled away from the curb. Belatedly, Lois pulled the seat   
belt across her lap and hung on, grimly. She hoped the man   
had *some* sense when it came to driving on slippery   
pavement but being that he was a Metro cab driver, she   
didn't have much hope of it. The steadily falling drizzle   
coated the windshield and occasionally something softer   
splatted on the glass: a snowflake, or maybe just half-  
frozen slush, she thought. The windshield wipers swished   
aside the water, and Lois could see where a faint crusting   
of slushy ice had collected at the edges. The temperature   
must be just about freezing, she thought, looking through   
the clouded side window at the depressingly grey, drippy   
world outside. People slogged by, wrapped in weatherproof   
coats and carrying umbrellas against the precipitation.   
  
The driver eventually dropped her off in front of Metro   
General, and Lois alighted, thankfully. A car driving past   
the taxi showered her with muddy water and she muttered an   
imprecation under her breath.   
  
For once, though, Lois was grateful for the cast on her   
ankle. The press had staked out the lobby but none of them   
gave her more than a cursory glance as she went slowly past   
them on her crutches. For a moment, she was almost certain   
that she had seen the face of Diana Stride's cameraman   
among the crowd, but if he was present, he vanished at   
once, and she suspected her imagination was working   
overtime.  
  
The door to Clark's room was closed and she hesitated, then   
knocked lightly. Clark's voice answered her at once. "Who   
is it?"  
  
"Me," she replied.  
  
The door opened almost instantly. Her partner, clad in the   
grey sweats and with his hair standing on end, stood there.   
"Finally! What took you so long?"  
  
She couldn't help laughing at his appearance. "You look   
like you stuck your finger in a light socket! It's a good   
thing I brought you a comb!"  
  
He pulled her inside and closed the door behind her. "Very   
funny. Did you bring me some clothes?"  
  
"Jeans and a T-shirt," she replied, holding up the paper   
bag containing the items in question. "Along with some   
underwear. Are your powers back, yet?"  
  
"No." His answer erased the smile from her face. "But Dr.   
Patinkin thinks it's just a matter of time. She says a   
little of the Kryptonite must have gotten into my system.   
She thinks it's acting like a metabolic poison does in a   
human, but that there isn't enough to do too much harm and   
my body will eventually get rid of it. I'm supposed to   
drink a lot of water to help the process along. With luck,   
my powers will be back by tonight or tomorrow at the   
latest."  
  
"I hope so," Lois said.  
  
"So do I. I've gotten used to being Superman. The longest   
it's ever taken was about two days, and that was a much   
heavier exposure than this was." He ran his hand through   
his dark hair in a way that told her instantly why it   
looked the way it did. "Are *you* all right? I've been   
worrying about you all night, and when you didn't answer   
your phone--"  
  
"Oh." She gave him a slightly shamefaced grin. "I spent   
the night at Clark's apartment, just in case."  
  
His eyebrows flew up. "Is this the Lois Lane *I* know?"  
  
"Hey, I'm always careful!" she protested. At his skeptical   
look she added, "Well, sometimes, anyway. You should give   
me a little credit. I've been taking cabs everywhere since   
last night."  
  
"Good." The force with which he spoke told her how worried   
he had been.  
  
"Anyway," she said, changing the subject, "Here's the stuff   
I got from Clark's place. The press has the lobby staked   
out in force."  
  
He took the clothing she handed him. "You think this will   
fool them?"  
  
"People see what they expect to see," she said. "Even the   
smart ones. You showed me that. None of those guys have   
ever seen Superman in jeans and a T-shirt."  
  
"I suppose not. Before we leave, though, I want to check   
on Jimmy."  
  
"So do I. Unless they've changed the schedule, he's   
supposed to talk to the DA this afternoon--which means   
Diana will try to silence him before then," Lois said.  
  
"I know." Clark looked very worried. "I don't remember if   
I told you--I left the bug there at the Top Copy studio.   
If she said anything after I left, we might be able to   
convince the DA to pick her up on suspicion."  
  
"You don't mind telling him about Kryptonite?" Lois asked.  
  
Clark shook out the clothing. "I figure there isn't much   
to be gained by trying to hide it any longer. The bad guys   
sure know about it."  
  
"Well, that's what I thought, but I figured you were the   
one to decide," Lois said.  
  
"Give me a minute to change and we can go," Clark said,   
retreating toward the bathroom. Lois nodded without   
speaking, but watched him as he walked away, silently   
admiring the way the sweat pants clung to his hips and   
legs. How on Earth had she managed to miss noticing the   
body her partner had been hiding under those GQ suits that   
he'd taken to wearing in the last few months? The sweats   
might be baggy, but they did little to hide his build.   
Giving in to the little devil that prodded her, she gave a   
low wolf whistle.  
  
Clark looked back over his shoulder. "Lo-is!"  
  
She grinned, unrepentant. "Sorry."  
  
"Yeah, right!" She could see him trying to suppress a grin   
as he disappeared into the patient's bathroom, and allowed   
herself a soft giggle.  
  
A short time later, they were on their way to the critical   
care ward where Jimmy and Mr. X were housed, still under   
heavy guard.   
  
The Police had set up their impromptu guard post at the end   
of the hospital corridor nearest the elevator, barely out   
of the way of hospital personnel who hurried past, Lois   
observed as she and Superman exited the elevator. Oxygen   
tanks mounted on carts were parked here and there in case   
of emergency and machines, the purpose of which she didn't   
even want to guess at, had been shoved to one side, away   
from the area of activity.   
  
Avoiding an empty gurney that half-blocked her way, Lois   
knocked on the wall to announce their presence. Mayson   
Drake was seated at a small card table that had been set up   
to one side, a stack of folders, a second one of loose   
papers and a clipboard, lying in front of her. A police   
officer, carrying a cup of coffee, brushed past them as   
they approached. Her footsteps echoed briskly behind them   
as she retreated down the hallway.  
  
"Oh, Lois." Mayson glanced up at her in a businesslike   
way. "I take it you're here to see Olsen? Who's this?"   
She glanced briefly at Clark. "If he's not on the list, I   
can't let him through."  
  
"I'm on the list, Ms. Drake," Clark said. Lois noted that   
his voice had dropped half an octave. The woman's gaze   
snapped back to him at the remark.  
  
"This is Superman," Lois hastened to say. "He's here   
incognito, as you can see. Diana Stride tried to kill him,   
too."  
  
Mayson's eyebrows rose fractionally. "She tried to kill   
*you*? I didn't think that was possible."  
  
"Oh, it's possible, all right," Clark said.  
  
"All right, let's hear it." The assistant DA sounded   
slightly incredulous.   
  
Briefly, Lois and Clark described the events of the   
previous day. Mayson listened in silence until they had   
finished.  
  
"I wish you'd reported this last night," she said.   
  
"I'm afraid I had other things on my mind," Clark said.   
"Besides, didn't the hospital report it?"  
  
"Probably, but it wouldn't have gotten to me," Mayson said.   
"I think we have enough to take Ms. Stride into custody,   
pending further investigation. Next time, don't wait so   
long. We could have picked her up last night."  
  
"Sorry," Lois said. "None of us were thinking very clearly   
at the time."  
  
Mayson regarded her thoughtfully. "I suppose not. Clark   
should have thought of it, though. I--"  
  
It was at that moment that a cloud of white mist began to   
pour from the ventilator almost directly above Mayson's   
chair. The assistant DA looked up, gasped and slumped   
slowly forward out of her chair. Lois, a few feet away,   
caught her breath and held it. Vents all along the hall   
were dispensing the mist, flooding the hallway. Medical   
personnel and police officers both were slumping in their   
tracks, littering the floor with unconscious bodies. Clark   
had gotten a face full of it, but it didn't seem to affect   
him. He strode to the wall where one of the oxygen tanks   
stood, seized the tank and mask and dragged it quickly to   
Lois.  
  
"Put this on," he commanded.  
  
Lois clapped the mask over her nose and mouth. Clark   
twisted a valve on the tank, and Lois felt the rush of   
oxygen on her face. She inhaled several times and held out   
the mask to her partner, pointing at Mayson. Clark didn't   
hesitate. He pulled it over Mayson's face and turned back   
to Lois, hustling her away from the vent to the other side   
of the hallway where a row of windows, closed against the   
wet, chilly weather outside, lined the wall.  
  
The whole area was full of the gas. Clark let her go and   
strode to the nearest window. With a single motion, he   
thrust it wide open, letting in a blast of the cold, fresh   
outside air. Lois looked frantically around. "It's got to   
be Diana!" she whispered. The acrid smell of the gas   
caught in the back of her throat and she coughed.   
  
"Stay here," Clark said and left her, racing down the hall   
toward the rooms of the two witnesses.  
  
**********   
  
He was just in time to see the white clad form of a nurse   
vanishing into the room of Mr. X. The guard lay slumped on   
the floor beside his chair; obviously, he'd caught a full   
dose of the gas. Then, why was the nurse still on her   
feet? Something else about the figure he'd glimpsed struck   
him as wrong, too. As he thought of it, he realized what   
it was. The woman had been wearing white, high-heeled   
shoes. No nurse in her right mind wore anything but flat   
shoes with rubber soles. Superman had brought enough   
persons to hospitals over the course of the last couple of   
years to know that for sure.  
  
Instantly, he yanked the door open. Diana Stride, a   
hypodermic in one hand, was bending over the unconscious   
form of Mr. X, apparently just about to insert the needle   
into the intravenous tubing.   
  
There was no time for anything but direct action. In   
another second, their federal witness would be dead. He   
struck the hand with the hypodermic, sending the thing   
clattering across the room. Diana Stride spun instantly   
around. For a split second, her eyes widened. "Superman!"  
  
"In the flesh, Ms. Stride." He folded his arms. "I think   
you'd better come with me."  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "I don't think so." Quicker than the   
eye could follow, she struck at him with one of the karate   
punches he had seen Lois use upon occasion. Her fist took   
him in the stomach and he stumbled back, gasping for air.  
  
"You don't have your powers, do you?" she said, and her   
smile became malicious. With one hand, she whipped a knife   
from her garter. "Good bye, Superman."  
  
**********  
  
Lois watched Superman sprint down the hallway toward the   
rooms where Mr. X and Jimmy presently resided. The air was   
filled with the white mist and she leaned close to the   
window, breathing deeply. Her head felt a little muzzy as   
if she wasn't thinking quite clearly; she must have gotten   
some of the gas, in spite of the open window.  
  
The cold, damp air hit her in the face, helping to clear   
her head. Down the hallway, in the direction which   
Superman had vanished, she could see the figure of the   
guard slumped in front of the doorway to Mr. X's room, and   
for the first time the thought occurred to her: what was   
Clark going to do if he ran into Diana Stride? Superman   
didn't have his powers! And, the chances were very good   
that he *would* run into her! No one else would have done   
anything like this.  
  
On the thought, Lois took several deep breaths of clean   
air, held the last one and swiveled on her crutches, trying   
to move as quickly down the hallway as she could. Exactly   
what she intended to do, she wasn't sure, but she couldn't   
leave her partner to deal with a killer on his own. Clark   
didn't even have the skills she had so patiently learned   
over the last several years in her Tai Kwon Do class,   
although she wasn't in any shape to employ them right now.  
  
The vents had ceased pouring out the mist but she barely   
noticed as she neared the room of Mr. X. Her lungs were   
burning, but if she took a breath of the gas-laden air, she   
would be of no use to Clark. Which room had he gone into?  
  
At the thought, there was a crash, followed by a mocking   
laugh from the room on her right. Lois pushed the door   
open just in time to see Superman skip backward to dodge a   
slash from the long-bladed knife in Diana Stride's hand.   
His foot caught on the trashcan that sat innocuously on the   
floor by Mr. X's bed, and he fell backwards.  
  
Diana Stride's back was to her, and the assassin was   
obviously concentrating too hard on her attempt to kill   
Clark to even notice Lois's arrival. She moved forward   
like a big cat, the knife held loosely between thumb and   
forefinger.   
  
Lois took a much-needed breath of air and dropped one of   
the crutches. Balancing on her good foot and the cast, she   
hefted the remaining one. The thing was made of aluminum   
and not very heavy, but it would make a decent weapon, and   
it was all she had. She would have one shot, and one only.   
She swung the crutch as hard as she could.  
  
It connected with Diana Stride's head and right shoulder   
and the assassin went to her knees with a scream. The   
knife skidded across the carpet and disappeared under the   
bed. Lois swung again, but Diana deflected the blow with   
her forearm and scrambled to her feet.   
  
"I'd love to stay and discuss this," she said, "but this   
room is getting a *little* crowded." She rolled across Mr.   
X's bed and made for the window, faster than Lois could   
move to stop her. She had barely vanished through the   
opening when the door behind Lois swung open again and   
three police officers wearing gas masks burst in. Lois   
lost her balance and went to her knees on the carpet.  
  
**********  
  
"Are you *sure* you're all right?" Clark asked her for the   
third time.  
  
"Superman, I'm fine," she assured him. "I should be asking   
*you* that! Diana could have killed you! What on Earth   
possessed you, trying to take on a professional assassin   
without your powers?"  
  
He gave her an incredulous look. "I didn't have a choice.   
You know that. If I hadn't, she'd have killed the   
witness."  
  
Mayson Drake glanced at him, and Lois read uncertainty in   
her face. Then the assistant DA turned to her. "Thanks,   
Lois--I owe you an awful lot. Um--and thank   
you...Superman." This last was spoken almost grudgingly.   
"You saved my witness. I appreciate it." She cleared her   
throat. "We have an APB out on Diana, but so far she seems   
to have disappeared. I suppose you can't--um--search for   
her at the moment."  
  
"I'm afraid not," Clark said, somewhat regretfully. "As   
soon as my powers come back, I'll be glad to, of course."  
  
"Of course." Mayson turned thankfully back to Lois again.   
"Look, Lois, from everything I've seen, it looks to me as   
if she's targeting you, too. I'm tempted to put you in   
protective custody unless you agree to take some measures   
to protect yourself."  
  
"Such as?" Lois asked, resisting the strong urge to bristle   
at the mere suggestion.  
  
"I don't want you to go near your apartment, and I want you   
to take special care not to be seen. And *don't* drive   
your usual vehicle around town until Diana is under wraps."  
  
"I've been taking cabs everywhere," Lois said, trying not   
to sound defensive. "I told you that."  
  
"That's just as well. I had the bomb squad check out your   
Jeep after this last incident. If you'd started the motor,   
Metro General would have lost half of its visitors' parking   
lot. Diana doesn't kid around."  
  
"But surely, she knows the jig is up, now," Clark   
suggested. "Lois saw her, I saw her, Jimmy saw her--"  
  
"True. But our witness still hasn't identified her as   
Intergang's assassin," Mayson said. "She might be able to   
fight the other charges successfully. Until she's caught,   
you're all in danger. If all the witnesses were to   
coincidentally die, it might look bad, but Intergang   
employs excellent lawyers. And you can bet she'd have an   
airtight alibi."  
  
"I suppose she would," Lois said, reluctantly. "I'll watch   
my step."  
  
Mayson turned back to Clark. "I'm including you in this,   
Superman. Without your powers, you're as easily killed as   
Lois--and since you're a witness now, you're my   
responsibility." It was plain that she didn't relish said   
responsibility. "I don't want to be the one blamed for   
Superman's death."  
  
Lois saw his eyebrow slide up a fraction of an inch, but he   
nodded soberly. "I'll be careful, Ms. Drake."   
  
**********  
  
A candy striper let them out a side entrance at Mayson   
Drake's request and they stepped into the cab that a   
helpful nurse's aide had called. The driver made no   
comment at the directions to drive them to the local Shady   
Inn, which had the reputation as a no-tell motel, and a   
short time later, they stood beside the seedy-looking   
little establishment. Lois looked doubtfully at Clark.   
"What do you think?"  
  
"I think no one is going to find us here. It's just for   
tonight, Lois. We've stayed in worse places. We'll make   
better arrangements for tomorrow."  
  
"We're going to have to," Lois grumbled. "I'm running out   
of clothes."  
  
"Well, I'm not exactly dressed in high fashion," Clark   
pointed out, indicating his jeans, T-shirt and the bundle   
of sweats that Lois had stuffed into the paper bag in which   
she had brought his change of clothing. "I don't even have   
a jacket."  
  
"I forgot," Lois admitted. "Sorry. You know, you have a   
change of clothes at work. That's where I got my outfit.   
Although," she added, "your apartment is probably safe."  
  
"Maybe and maybe not," Clark said. "Diana knows I'm your   
partner. I wouldn't put it past her to stake out my place-  
-or just rig it with a booby trap. I'm sure killing one   
more reporter wouldn't bother her at the moment. She's   
trying to save her skin. Intergang probably wouldn't take   
it too well if the DA was actually able to pin something on   
her. In fact, I wouldn't care to bet on her life   
expectancy if she ever ends up behind bars."  
  
"But don't you think she's more likely to go after Mr. X   
again?" Lois objected. "He's the one who can name her as   
an assassin. And Mayson can't move him yet."  
  
Clark shrugged uneasily. "Let's hope the Metropolis Police   
Department doesn't underestimate her again," he said.   
  
"You mean, we should just sit back and do *nothing*?" Lois   
demanded, outraged.  
  
"We...ll--not exactly," Clark said. "But let's talk about   
it once we're inside, okay?"  
  
The clerk behind the check-in counter didn't look up when   
they entered, continuing to peruse a dog-eared copy of   
"CatHouse". From what Lois could see, the picture on the   
front cover was not that of a cat. He turned a page and   
the rattlesnake tattoo on his right biceps rippled, seeming   
to coil and uncoil. Fascinated, she tried not to stare at   
his heavily muscled arms, tattooed solidly from shoulder to   
wrist. He chomped on the butt of a thick cigar, his jaws   
moving slowly and rhythmically, sort of like a cow chewing   
its cud, she thought. There was at least a day's growth of   
stubble coating his jaw and she could smell the   
unmistakable scent of beer, even from six feet away. He   
turned another page and the snake twitched again.   
  
"Yeah, folks, what'll it be?" he asked.  
  
"We'd like a room," Clark said. "Mr. and Mrs. Jones."   
  
"How long?" the man asked, removing the cigar from between   
his teeth, his eyes never straying from the pages of his   
magazine. "We charge ten bucks an hour. Twenty if you   
want new sheets."  
  
"We want a room for the night," Clark elaborated. "How   
much?"  
  
Now the clerk did raise his eyes to survey them with a   
faint air of surprise. "You kidding?"  
  
"No," Clark said, firmly. "We want a room for the night--  
preferably with twin beds. And we *definitely* want clean   
sheets."  
  
"Sure, buddy, whatever you say." The clerk laid the   
magazine down and pulled open a small drawer. "Now where   
did I put that thing--here it is." He removed a tattered   
sheet of paper. "Rates," he explained. "Let's see--one   
full night. That'll be fifty-five bucks. But there aren't   
any twin beds--just doubles. The rooms are clean though,"   
he hastened to add. "And we fumigate regular."  
  
Lois produced the money but didn't comment, allowing Clark   
to handle the negotiations. A short time later, Clark was   
letting them into a small, shabby room, the main feature of   
which seemed to be a double bed. A single chair took up   
one corner and a coat rack stood behind the door. A small,   
battered nightstand beside the bed actually boasted a   
telephone, and the drawer yielded a telephone book,   
although the drawer tended to stick. There was also a   
bathroom with a shower the size of a postage stamp.  
  
"I wonder if there's any hot water," Lois remarked.  
  
"Why don't you check." Clark pulled back the bedspread,   
assuring himself of the cleanliness of the sheets. "Looks   
like Harry out there was telling the truth."  
  
"Harry?" Lois checked the bathroom faucet. Much to her   
surprise, hot water gushed from the tap. "Well, at least   
we can get a hot shower." She sniffed. "He must have been   
telling the truth, all right. I smell insecticide."  
  
"Yeah. The guy's name is Harry Rose. Didn't you see his   
name tag?"  
  
"I didn't notice. I was looking at his rattlesnake." Lois   
returned slowly to the tiny bedroom and glanced uncertainly   
at Clark. He had remade the bed and now he glanced at her   
with equal uncertainty.   
  
"If you like, I can take the floor. Or the chair."  
  
Lois shook her head. "Not *this* floor, and you'll need a   
chiropractor if you try to sleep in that chair. Besides,   
if I can't trust Superman, I can't trust anybody. In the   
meantime, though, what did you mean?"  
  
For a moment, he looked puzzled. "Oh, you mean about us   
not sitting back and doing nothing. I figure Diana's   
getting desperate. Her time's running out. She's bound to   
make another attempt as soon as she can set one up."  
  
"Surely, the police know that."  
  
"Well, sure. But she isn't going to make a direct assault,   
that's for sure. She tried that, and it didn't work.   
She'll try something else."  
  
Lois nodded slowly. "You're right. There's probably not   
much we can do--" She regarded the cast on her leg sourly.   
"Especially with this thing on my leg. But I'd like to be   
there when they catch her."  
  
"I know what you mean," Clark said. "I'm not much good   
right now, either."  
  
Lois looked sharply at him. "What do you mean by that?   
Just because you've lost your powers for a while doesn't   
mean you're useless, you know. If not for you, Mayson's   
witness would be dead right now!"  
  
"And if not for you, so would I," he pointed out. "You   
saved my life back there."  
  
"Well, that's what partners are for. One steps in when the   
other one needs help," she said. "You may not have your   
powers, but you still have the most important thing left."  
  
"And that is?"  
  
"Your brain, silly! That's all I've ever had in the way of   
super powers, and it's served me pretty well, at least so   
far!"  
  
He didn't answer for several seconds. Finally, he nodded   
and gave a slight smile. "You know, you're right. Just   
because I don't have my powers doesn't mean I'm helpless.   
I'm just normal, like everybody else. But I have to admit,   
you're hard to keep up with, even when I *do* have them.   
So, what do you think we should do, next?"  
  
"Well--" Lois scowled, thinking. "Diana's not going to go   
back to her apartment--the police probably already have it   
staked out. Where do you think she might hide? She   
doesn't strike me as the two-bit motel type."  
  
"That's for sure," Clark said.   
  
"Well, where does that slimy cameraman of hers live?"  
  
"I'd think Mayson would have checked him out, too--don't   
you?"  
  
"Maybe. I think the two of them have something going,   
though--when he's not ogling you."  
  
Clark's cheeks turned a dull red. "Let's just not talk   
about that," he muttered.  
  
"Fine with me--although I have to admit, you're worth   
looking at."  
  
"Lois!"  
  
She grinned. "You mean, you'd rather *I* didn't like   
looking at you?"  
  
"Well--"  
  
"Anyway," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken, "I think I   
might have seen him hanging around the lobby of Metro   
General when I came in this morning. At the time, I   
thought it was my imagination but now I don't know."  
  
"You think he was waiting for Diana?"  
  
"Maybe he had a getaway car for her."  
  
"If he's in this at all," Clark said. "Somehow, I can't   
see Diana telling him all the secrets of her past, and I   
don't think he's smart enough for Intergang to have him   
helping out their top assassin."  
  
"Maybe not," Lois said. "Still, he must know something.   
He was there when Diana showed up in the Planet with her   
tracker, looking for you."  
  
"True." Clark got to his feet and began to pace. "Well,   
assuming that she was going to try to expose Superman's   
secret identity, maybe he was in on that and not the rest."  
  
"Maybe," Lois agreed. "In any case, the police are   
probably watching him--if they can find him."  
  
"Well--" Clark ran a hand through his hair. "Let's try   
another angle. She's an assassin for Intergang. What do   
we know about Intergang?"  
  
"We know Bill Church runs it--at least, we're pretty sure   
he does," Lois amended, quickly. "Although Perry doesn't   
agree."  
  
"It's hard to think a friend of yours might be a big time   
crook," Clark said. "He's in the hospital, though--heart   
transplant surgery, I heard."  
  
"So, who's running Intergang while he's out of commission?"   
Lois asked. "That guy you saw talking to Diana?"  
  
"I doubt it. Doesn't Bill Church have a son?"  
  
"Sure, Bill Church Jr. He's the Chairman of the Board of   
Cost Mart."  
  
There was almost an audible click. Lois said, "Cost Mart!   
Give me the phone!"  
  
Clark obeyed. "Who are you calling?"  
  
"Research. I want names and pictures of the Cost Mart   
board of directors and their chain of command. If Cost   
Mart is really Intergang, the guy you saw might be one of   
the mid-level executives or something."  
  
Clark was silent while she issued her orders to the hapless   
individual on the other end of the line. When she hung up,   
he asked, "How long?"  
  
"Probably about half an hour," Lois said. "Just enough   
time for Clark Kent to get over there and pick them up.   
You can get a change of clothes from your locker at the   
same time."  
  
He looked reluctant. "I don't like to leave you here by   
yourself."  
  
"Clark, I'll be fine. I'll lock the door and check through   
the peep hole if anybody knocks."  
  
**********  
  
Clark didn't find that promise reassuring. If there was   
one thing he had learned about his beautiful partner in the   
nearly two years since they had met, it was that Lois   
didn't have to actively look for trouble. Given the   
slightest opening, trouble would find her on its own.   
Still, what she had said made sense and her idea was a good   
one. If they were right, and Cost Mart was really the   
front they believed it to be for Intergang, its list of   
corporate officers was as good a place as any to start   
looking for the Intergang boss who had given Diana Stride   
her orders.  
  
He pulled on the sweatshirt he had worn the night before   
against the chill of the cold, drizzly day outside and left   
the motel room, restraining the urge to caution Lois about   
opening the door one last time. As luck would have it, no   
taxis were anywhere to be seen, until he was halfway to the   
Planet on foot. When he arrived, he paid the man from the   
dwindling hoard of cash, reminding himself to reimburse   
Lois for half the amount expended on their behalf, and   
hurried into the Planet.  
  
When he arrived in the locker room to retrieve his spare   
set of clothing, no one was present except the custodian,   
who greeted him cheerfully. Clark hastened to change his   
wardrobe and retrieved the spare cash he kept in his locker   
before he headed for the newsroom.  
  
As he emerged from the elevator, he was greeted by Ralph's   
voice.  
  
"Hey, Kent, where you been? Your girlfriend from the DA's   
office was looking for you!"  
  
Clark consciously controlled his expression, giving Ralph a   
blank stare. "Who?"  
  
"Your girlfriend--the luscious blond dish."  
  
"Are you referring to Ms. Drake?" Clark inquired, coolly.  
  
"Who else?" Ralph tried to elbow him in the ribs but Clark   
stepped quickly out of the way. He fixed the other   
journalist--in the loosest of senses, he reflected--with a   
frosty look.   
  
"Ms. Drake is not my 'girlfriend' as you put it, Ralph. Do   
you happen to know what she wanted?"   
  
"Nope. The Chief wants to see you, though."  
  
"What a coincidence," Clark replied. He headed down the   
ramp. The promised information from Research was sitting   
prominently on his desk and he scooped it up on the way to   
his boss's office.  
  
Perry was busily editing copy when Clark knocked on the   
doorframe of his office. He looked up, seeming to be   
mildly irritated until he saw who it was.   
  
"Come in, Clark. Shut the door."  
  
Clark obeyed. "Ralph said you wanted to see me, Chief?"  
  
"Ms. Drake was here looking for you," Perry said, without   
preliminary. "Since you're Lois's partner, she wanted to   
warn you that Lois is a target and that makes you one,   
too."  
  
"I already know about it, Chief. I came by to update you   
on what's happened and I didn't want to use the phone.   
Diana made an attempt on Mr. X this morning, and when   
Superman tried to stop her, she tried to kill him, too.   
Lois saved them both."  
  
During this matter-of-fact recital, Perry's eyebrows had   
slowly climbed until they were nearly at the level where   
his hairline once must have been. Clark continued,   
"Superman's disappeared to wherever he goes and Lois has--  
um--gone to cover, so to speak. We're working on another   
angle of this whole thing that involves trying to identify   
who Diana's boss is--the one who gave her the orders. We   
think it's a shot, anyway."  
  
Perry glanced at the sheaf of papers. "I see. Okay, keep   
me updated--and for the love of Memphis, be careful!"  
  
"Careful," Clark said seriously, "is my middle name."  
  
"Yeah, well it isn't Lois's. You watch out for her, too.   
Is that understood?"  
  
"There was never any question of that, Chief," Clark said.   
He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of which, I need to get   
back. I don't want her to get any ideas."  
  
Perry gave a bark of laughter. "Go," he said. "I'll see   
you tomorrow. Just get me that story."  
  
"We're doing our best," Clark assured him.  
  
**********  
  
By the time he arrived back at the motel, it was just after   
four PM. He knocked on the door of their unit. "Lois?"  
  
There was silence beyond the door. Alarm clutched at him   
and he quickly produced the key to their room. For an   
instant, the lock seemed to stick but then it clicked back   
and the door opened.  
  
Lois was curled up on the double bed, sound asleep. He   
shut the door quietly behind him and locked it, glancing   
sideways at his partner. Even sleeping, she looked tired.   
He was tempted not to disturb her, but if he didn't she   
would probably kill him. Still, she couldn't help him to   
identify the Intergang boss who had given Diana Stride her   
orders. He could at least let her sleep until he'd had a   
chance to check over the photos.  
Quietly, he set the telephone on the rug, pulled the   
nightstand across the floor to the room's single chair and   
settled down to do some serious research.  
  
The aromas from the bag containing the fast food that he   
had bought on the way back caught his attention, however.   
Clark wasn't often really hungry since most of his energy   
came from sunlight but without his powers, he suddenly   
realized he was ravenous. Breakfast at the hospital hadn't   
been all that heavy, and a lot of things had happened   
since. He opened the bag and set out his meal: four   
burgers, fries, onion rings and a strawberry shake. He   
wasn't sure it would be enough but he could get something   
else from the fast food place across the street if he was   
still hungry. He carefully wrapped Lois's meal in the bag   
to keep it warm and took a bite of burger.  
  
He'd rarely eaten a burger that tasted as good. Since the   
place he'd bought it had been a very ordinary fast food   
place, he had to think it was because he was so hungry.   
Jonathan Kent had often said, "There's no sauce like   
appetite", and now he understood what his father had meant   
as he squeezed ketchup onto the second burger.  
  
While he ate, he studied the printouts that Research had   
gotten for him. The first sheet showed pictures of Bill   
Church Sr. and Jr. as well as five men and one woman whose   
appearance led him to wonder why anyone trusted them to   
turn in an honest balance sheet, much less manage the   
company. Two of the men reminded him of Manny Sleek, who   
ran a used car lot four blocks from the Planet. The next   
page showed the next tier of company management. None of   
the faces were familiar. In some disappointment, he turned   
to the third page. The managers of the Cost Marts in   
various cities were listed, each with his or her own   
thumbnail photo.  
  
Clark took a long slurp of milkshake. There were several   
Cost Marts in Metropolis. The fact was no real surprise,   
considering the size of the city, itself. It was a   
nuisance to have to examine each face minutely with the   
help of a magnifying glass that he had borrowed from Lois's   
desk before he left, but he persevered, all the while   
working his way through the third burger and the bag of   
fries.  
  
"Do I smell food?" Lois's voice asked. Clark almost   
spilled his shake. His partner, still looking sleepy, was   
sliding her feet over the edge of the bed and reaching for   
her crutches.  
  
"Uh--yeah. Here." Clark got to his feet and brought her   
the food he'd purchased for her. "I got you a chicken   
sandwich and a salad. They were the healthiest things on   
the menu. I hope you like vinaigrette dressing. It seemed   
like the lowest in fat."  
  
Lois yawned, reaching for the bag. "Sure. Did you get   
anything to drink?"  
  
"A chocolate milkshake. It was that or a soda."  
  
Lois took the proffered items. "That's okay. I'm hungry   
enough to eat just about anything at this point. I guess I   
didn't sleep very well, last night, and all I had for   
breakfast this morning was coffee. What time is it?"  
  
Clark glanced at his watch. "Uh--about 4:30. I was just   
looking at the information Research gave me."  
  
"Find anything?"  
  
Clark shook his head. "Not so far--but I'm not finished   
yet."  
  
"Well, get back to work, Kent!" She poked him in the ribs.   
"We might not have much time."  
  
Clark grinned. "Okay. I've got a couple more pages to   
go." He went back to the makeshift desk to resume his   
work.   
  
A shadow passed in front of the shaded window and they both   
froze. The shadow grew clearer as whatever had caused it   
came closer, resolving itself into the general silhouette   
of a man. The soft crunch of footsteps on gravel confirmed   
the presence of someone just outside the room's single   
window. Whoever it was, was obviously pressing up against   
the window, trying to hear or see. Clark put his finger to   
his lips, got quickly to his feet and crossed the room to   
the door. As silently as he could, he opened the panel and   
slipped out, closing it softly behind him before Lois could   
voice a protest. If someone was trying to spy on them, he   
wanted to know who it was.  
  
Quickly and quietly, he rounded the corner and approached   
the back of the shabby little cabin. He could hear someone   
breathing heavily--not Diana Stride, he thought. The   
Intergang assassin was far more skilled than to allow her   
quarry to hear her breathing. Pausing at the corner, he   
took a breath and peeked around it.  
  
Standing next to the window of their unit, his back to   
Clark and one ear pressed tightly to the glass, was Ralph.  
  
The reporter apparently hadn't heard him. Clark stepped up   
behind him and tapped him firmly on the shoulder. "Looking   
for something, Ralph?"  
  
The other man jumped so violently he nearly fell over. If   
Clark hadn't been thoroughly annoyed, the expression on his   
colleague's face would have been funny but as it was, he   
fixed Ralph with his most intimidating stare. "I'm   
waiting."  
  
Ralph gaped at him, apparently incapable of speech. At   
last, he seemed to gather his wits. "You're a fine one to   
talk! You and Lane have hardly been in all day and you're   
holed up in this fleabag together--I should have figured--"  
  
"You should have figured what?" Clark asked, ominously.   
"Have you ever heard the term 'assignment'?" He reached   
out and grasped Ralph by his arm. "Come on."  
  
Ralph tried to pull away, but even without his powers,   
Clark was strong--in a normal, human way, of course. After   
an instant, the man gave up. "Where are we going?"  
  
"To see Lois, naturally. I'll let you ask *her* what   
we're doing here."  
  
The other journalist paled visibly. "Uhh--that's not--I   
mean--"  
  
"You wanted to find out what we were doing so badly that   
you trailed me from the Planet. It's only right that you   
see the scandal you've uncovered," Clark said. "This way."   
He propelled Ralph ahead of him toward the door of their   
unit. "In here."  
  
Ralph put up another instant of feeble resistance but Clark   
had no intention of letting him off the hook. He was   
fairly new to the Planet, but he'd already developed a   
reputation for spreading innuendo and rumors. Given the   
chance, he wouldn't be able to resist the urge to gossip   
about Lane and Kent. Considering Lois's last experience   
with a gossipy co-worker, and his own, involving Cat Grant,   
Clark was going to nip this one in the bud. Besides, the   
last thing he and Lois needed was someone snooping on their   
private business at some other time in the future. He   
pushed Ralph ahead of him into the motel room.  
  
Lois was seated on the foot of the bed, her sandwich and   
salad lying on the coverlet beside her. For an instant she   
looked startled, then the expression of thunderous wrath   
that began to gather on her face would have intimidated   
even Clark, if it had been trained on him.  
  
"What the *devil* are you doing here?" she demanded.  
  
"He seemed to think," Clark said, "that he was on the trail   
of something scandalous involving you and me."  
  
"*What*?" The sheer volume of her voice made Clark wince,   
and Ralph seemed to shrivel. "You *idiot*! We're in the   
middle of an investigation of Intergang--assigned by Perry-  
-and you're sniffing after us looking for a *scandal*?"   
She grasped one of her crutches and hoisted herself to her   
feet. Ralph still stood several inches taller than she,   
but he cringed before her fury. "If you've screwed this up   
for us, I'm going to send you back to Perry in *pieces*!   
In case you're interested, we've got an assassin gunning   
for us, you moron! If you've got any sense at all, you'll   
go back to the Planet and forget you were ever here--or   
that we were! Is that clear?"  
  
Ralph nodded vigorously and took a step back, but ran into   
Clark's solid form, directly behind him. Lois was silent,   
regarding him in a way that made Clark profoundly thankful   
that Mad Dog Lane's attention was on Ralph and not himself.   
When the silence had gone on long enough to begin to make   
even him nervous, she nodded. "You can let him go, Clark.   
And if I ever find out you've been spying on me again,   
Ralph, I'll make you sorry you were ever born. Is that   
clear?"  
  
Ralph swallowed convulsively and nodded again. Clark   
stepped out of the way, but met his eyes with a grim   
expression. "And when she's finished tearing you limb from   
limb, it's my turn," he said, with only a trace of humor.   
"Assuming, that is, that she's left anything for me. The   
last thing an investigative reporting team needs is another   
reporter from their own office interfering with their   
investigation." He opened the door. "Don't do it again.   
Now, get out of here."  
  
Ralph departed in a manner strongly reminiscent of a rabbit   
fleeing from a hound and if it hadn't been impossible,   
Clark would have sworn that he left a vapor trail. He shut   
the door behind Ralph, locked it and turned to Lois. She   
had sunk down on the bed again and now she looked up to   
meet his eyes. Her lips twitched. The two reporters   
stared at each other for a long moment, and Clark had to   
struggle to control his expression. Then Lois started to   
giggle. Her giggle set Clark off and the motel room echoed   
with the gales of their laughter.  
  
"You think we convinced him?" she spluttered finally,   
between snickers.  
  
"I hope so," Clark said. "Yeah, I think we did. You were   
convincing, that's for sure."  
  
"So were you. He was shaking in his shoes." She giggled   
again. "One more problem disposed of. You better get back   
to your research, though, before your food gets cold."  
  
"It wouldn't matter, if I had my powers," he said, losing   
the urge to laugh. "I could just heat it up again with my   
heat vision."  
  
"They'll be back in a day or so," Lois said, confidently.   
"Let's just see if we can track Diana down before she kills   
somebody. Remember what I said. You've still got your   
brain and that's the best super power of all. Let's use   
it, okay?"  
  
"Okay." He stepped toward her, bent and pressed a light   
kiss onto her lips. "Thanks, Lois."  
  
She looked a little startled, but pleased. "What's that   
for?"  
  
"For keeping things in perspective, even when I don't." He   
cupped her cheek gently with one hand. "It's one of a   
million reasons why I fell in love with you and why I   
couldn't do without you, even if I wanted to."  
  
She put her hand over his. "We have a lot more talking to   
do when we have time, Clark--but I love you, too--and not   
for your powers."  
  
"I've known that for a long time," Clark said. "I wish I'd   
told you the whole story months ago. I guess I've got one   
reason to be grateful to Nigel St. John--even if I never   
tell him so."  
  
"Neither will I," Lois said. "Still, if he hadn't done   
what he did, I'd have probably figured it out sooner or   
later."   
  
**********  
  
He found what he was looking for on the fourth page. The   
face of the man who had spoken to Diana Stride on her   
videoscreen belonged to a Theodore M. Hurst, the manager of   
the Cost Mart located on Avocado Street on the south side   
of the city.  
  
"Bingo," Lois said, quietly. She glanced at her watch.   
"He's probably off work by now. Did Research get his   
address?"  
  
"Yes." He held out the paper. "You think Lane and Kent   
should pay him a visit?"  
  
"I think Lane and Kent should check out his apartment.   
Maybe he's got a way to contact Diana."  
  
"I was afraid you meant that," Clark said. "You realize,   
breaking and entering isn't something Superman should be   
doing."  
  
"Superman fights for truth and justice," Lois replied.   
"Sometimes that requires a little breaking and entering."   
She reached for her jacket. "Do you want to call the   
taxi?"  
  
"Sure," Clark said. He glanced at his watch. "It's past   
5:30. Do taxis come into this part of town at night?"  
  
Lois shrugged. "I wouldn't blame them if they didn't," she   
admitted. "We've got a little while before sunset, but not   
much. Oh well, if they won't we can walk to a better   
section and call one."  
  
Clark raised an eyebrow. "Right. Walk around in this area   
after dark. Do you know how many muggings I stop around   
here every night?"  
  
Lois shook her head. "No, but I bet you're going to tell   
me."  
  
"I average around six to ten."  
  
"In that case, hurry up and call. We want a cab here   
before sunset."   
  
"You know," Clark said, "I've been thinking about Ralph."  
  
"What about him?" Lois was adjusting her crutches. "These   
darn things are making my arms hurt."  
  
"If he followed me, just about anyone could have. Ralph   
isn't exactly Mr. Smooth."  
  
"More like Captain Klutz," Lois said. "How the heck did he   
manage to follow you, anyway? Weren't you watching?"  
  
"Yeah, I was. I took two different taxis and walked the   
last couple of blocks. I didn't see anyone following, but   
I'm used to using my super powers and I don't have them   
right now. It's possible someone could have followed me   
without me knowing it, I guess--besides Ralph, that is."  
  
"Ralph's a snake," Lois said. "Sneaky is his style."  
  
"Yeah, but sneaky is Diana Stride's style, too," Clark   
pointed out. "And, she's a trained assassin. If Ralph   
followed me, she could have."  
  
"Or that slimy cameraman of hers," Lois said. "We're going   
to have to give you a few more lessons in avoiding tails, I   
think. And maybe some elementary self defense."  
  
"Yeah, well that's for later," Clark said. "We better be   
careful. It's possible Diana knows we're here." He   
reached out to extinguish the room's light and then strode   
to the window to peek out between the slats.  
  
"See anything?" Lois asked.  
  
"No, but that doesn't mean anything." Clark bit his lip.   
  
"Well, if it were me, I'd be watching the door," Lois said.  
  
"I guess that means we go out the window again."  
  
"No, we're going out the door and over to the office. If   
anyone is watching, they'll expect us to come out the front   
door again."  
  
"And, of course, we don't."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
**********  
  
Slowly, allowing for Lois's speed on crutches, they left   
their motel room, and started toward the office of the   
Shady Inn.   
  
In actuality, they moved more slowly than was necessary,   
allowing Lois to scan the surrounding area while pretending   
to have difficulty making her way across the asphalt toward   
the office.  
  
"Clark, do you see that silver car across the street and   
halfway down the block?" she asked, suddenly. "Is that a   
Ferrari?"  
  
He glanced casually in the direction she indicated. "Yeah,   
it is."  
  
"Can you tell who's sitting behind the wheel?"  
  
Clark squinted. Even without his powers, his vision was   
very good. "I think it's a guy with long, dark hair."  
  
"Rolf," Lois said. "You were right. That's Diana's car.   
Come on, let's get to the office."  
  
**********  
  
"What did I say about walking around in this part of town   
after dark?" Clark said. It was now noticeably getting   
toward dusk. The shadows were beginning to creep over the   
streets and between the buildings. The sun would be down   
in fifteen minutes and he genuinely didn't like the thought   
of wandering around this place at night.  
  
It was twenty minutes later. They had exited their room   
without fuss, gone past the indifferent man at the office   
counter (whose nose was buried in his magazine) and exited   
via the back door. An alley opened up between two   
buildings and they ducked down it, pausing at the end while   
Lois caught her breath.  
  
"What now?" she asked, ignoring his previous comment.  
  
"I think we need to find a place where we can hide out for   
half an hour or so," Clark said, "just until Rolf decides   
we've gotten away. You're not going to be able to keep   
ahead of him on those things, if he decides to try to   
follow us."  
  
"No kidding," Lois said. Her eyes narrowed. "But, there   
might be another way."  
  
Clark looked at her, thoughtfully. She had that look in   
her eye that he had discovered months ago led to normally   
dangerous, usually outrageous behavior on their part.   
"What are you thinking?"  
  
"I was thinking that we need transportation. And out there   
is a car, just waiting for us, with a guy in it who doesn't   
have anything good for us in mind."  
  
"Lo--is..."  
  
"Well, does he?"  
  
"No...but you're talking about stealing Diana Stride's   
car."  
  
"Not stealing it," Lois said. "Just borrowing it for a   
little while. Besides, what do you think would happen if   
she was stupid enough to report it stolen to the police?"  
  
"They'd arrest her," Clark said. "But--"  
  
"Exactly. Now, here's what we'll do..."  
  
**********  
  
"He's still there," Lois said. "I think he's starting to   
get worried, though."  
  
Clark squinted through the falling mist and the dusk that   
had begun to fall. Rolf was looking through a pair of   
binoculars in the direction of the Shady Inn. As they   
watched, he got out of the car and craned his neck,   
obviously trying to improve his view of the establishment's   
grounds.  
  
"I don't see any sign of Diana," Lois said. "Do you?"  
  
"No. I think he's alone."  
  
"Okay, then, you know what to do."  
  
Clark hesitated. Lois nudged him. "Go on," she urged.   
"The quicker you get it over with, the better."  
  
"Yeah," Clark grumbled. "This is embarrassing." He drew a   
deep breath. "The things I do for a byline. Okay, here   
goes." He started toward the Ferrari. Rolf's back was   
toward him, and he was getting back into the driver's seat   
as Clark approached. Clark reached out to catch the door   
and moved up closer to the cameraman.  
  
Rolf looked up, startled. Clark leaned down, smiling a   
little. "Hi there, Rolf. I've been waiting for you."  
  
The man's eyes widened slightly. "Is something wrong, Mr.   
Kent?"  
  
"Why don't you call me Clark," Clark said, quelling the   
urge to run. "All my friends do. At least, I hoped you   
were here to look for me. I'd noticed you were following   
me. You and I need to talk." He rested a hand   
suggestively on the other man's arm. The passenger door   
was locked, he noticed, but that could be taken care of, if   
he managed to get into the car.   
  
Rolf smirked. "I didn't think you were..."  
  
"Interested?" Clark suggested. "I have an image to   
maintain, after all. Why don't we go somewhere and...talk   
this over?"  
  
The man's smile widened. "What about your companion--Ms.   
Lane?"  
  
"Oh, I sent her back to the office," Clark explained,   
offhandedly. "I didn't think we needed a chaperone."  
  
Rolf reached over to unlock the passenger door. "That was   
an excellent idea," he agreed. "Get in."  
  
Clark hadn't seen Lois approaching, and apparently neither   
had Rolf, but very suddenly the door opened and she slid   
into the passenger seat. In one, quick move, she removed   
the keys from the ignition. Clark smiled more widely.   
"Why don't you move over, Rolf? I think I'd like to   
drive."  
  
The cameraman's smirk broadened. "Am I in trouble?" he   
asked, coyly. "Are you going to...punish me?"  
  
"Maybe," Lois said. "You better do what he says, Rolf."  
  
Rolf looked dubiously at Lois, sitting in the other seat.   
She scooted herself against the door and patted the leather   
invitingly. Obediently, if slowly, Rolf clambered over the   
shift and made himself small in the bucket seat. "Where   
are we going?"  
  
"You'll find out when we get there," Clark said. He took   
the keys Lois handed him. "You really ought to be more   
careful, Rolf, or you might get punished more than you'd   
like." He waited until Lois had managed to fit her   
crutches into the vehicle and started the engine. "Any   
suggestions, Lois?"  
  
"Yeah." She glanced at the shift. "Do you know how to   
handle one of these?"  
  
"Sure," Clark said. "I used to drive my dad's tractor all   
the time. How different can it be?" He ignored the faint,   
pained whimper from Rolf. "Is this thing a five-shift?"  
  
**********  
  
William Henderson, Inspector in the Metropolis Police   
Department, had come to help himself to a cup of java. The   
electric coffeepot in his office was on the fritz for the   
fourth time this month. He suspected some well-meaning   
rookie might have cleaned it again, which inevitably ruined   
the taste of its coffee for at least a week. The brew   
produced by the machine on the table behind the desk   
sergeant was guaranteed to remove the varnish from   
furniture, but it was *coffee*, not one of those fancy   
lattes favored by the new guy that ran the snack cart.   
  
The outer door opened and he glanced automatically around   
to see who it might be. It was the evening shift and most   
of the civilian traffic for the day had ended. As his eyes   
rested on the newcomers, he heaved a resigned sigh. It   
looked as if the evening was not starting off on a   
promising note. Lois Lane, a plaster cast encasing one   
leg, was holding the door for her partner, Clark Kent, who   
was escorting a dark, slender man with a shock of black,   
shoulder-length hair, before him. If "escorting" was the   
right term. The reporter appeared to be holding the man in   
an arm lock. That was something new. He moved forward to   
stand beside the desk sergeant as Kent pushed his captive   
up to the counter. "Who's this?"  
  
"Mayson Drake has an APB out for this guy," Lois said,   
without preliminary. "He's a cameraman for 'Top Copy',   
named Rolf Landrieu."  
  
"Dipping into police work now, Lois?" Henderson inquired,   
drily. He moved out from behind the counter and gestured   
to a couple of uniformed officers, who were loitering near   
the water cooler, to take custody of the cameraman.  
  
"No, but since his boss is apparently trying to kill Lois,   
it seemed like a good idea," Clark said.   
  
"Right. Why didn't I figure that out?" Henderson surveyed   
the slender, dark man curiously. Rolf smirked and ran his   
gaze deliberately up and down Henderson's body. Henderson   
regarded him stolidly. "Pearson, put Mr. Landrieu   
somewhere safe and get hold of Assistant DA Drake." He   
turned back to the two reporters as Rolf was led away.   
"Now, what the devil is going on?"  
  
"Well--that's a little hard to explain," Clark said.   
"Basically, Lois stopped Diana Stride from killing the   
government's witness against Intergang, this morning, and   
now she's on Diana's hit list--probably somewhere after Mr.   
X. Rolf followed me back to where Lois was hiding out and   
we decided to--"  
  
"Never mind, I get the picture and I don't think I want to   
hear any more," Henderson said. He shook his head. "I'd   
ask how Lois happened to be in a position to save the   
witness, but that would require an explanation for why the   
police guards weren't there, and I don't really want to   
know."  
  
"Good, because I don't have the time to explain," Lois   
said. "Mayson can tell you all about it, if you ask her.   
Do you need us for anything else?"  
  
Henderson regarded her cynically. "You seem to be in a   
hurry to get out of here."  
  
"I have a story to write," Lois said. "Can we go?"  
  
Pearson re-entered the room, a pensive expression on his   
face. "Landrieu complained that Mr. Kent made advances to   
him and stole his employer's car," he reported, glancing   
thoughtfully at Clark. "He also wanted to know if we were   
going to punish him." Henderson felt both eyebrows rise.   
He looked at Clark Kent. The reporter rolled his eyes and   
Lois snickered.  
  
"Clark?" she said. "Don't be ridiculous. And no one stole   
the car. It's parked right out in front." She produced a   
car key and laid it on the counter. "Here's the key."  
  
Henderson waved them away. "I'm not even going to ask," he   
said. "Get out of here, both of you, before I lock you up   
just on principle." He managed to keep his expression   
deadpan until the two turned away, but after the door   
closed behind them, his co-workers were surprised to see   
their normally poker-faced superior turn to retrace his   
steps into his office with a broad grin on his features.   
  
**********  
  
"Well, that was easier than I thought it would be," Clark   
said. "Now what?"  
  
"Now," Lois said, "I think we should get over to the   
hospital. I have a bad feeling about Diana. She sent Rolf   
to find me, which means she's got more important things to   
do."  
  
"Yeah. I was thinking along the same lines," Clark said.   
"I guess we better call a taxi."  
  
"Well, we can't use Diana's car," Lois said, "and I sure   
don't want to walk. It's a good twenty blocks."  
  
"Twenty-two," Clark said. He laid a hand on her arm.   
"Thanks, Lois."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Just, 'thanks'." He glanced over his shoulder at the   
station and then back at her. "How are you holding up?" he   
asked. "You look tired."  
  
"I am," Lois admitted. "It's all right, though. I'll   
sleep when this is over. There's a phone on the corner.   
Why don't you call the taxi?"  
  
The taxi, when it arrived several minutes later, was from   
one of the minor taxicab companies that inhabited   
Metropolis; Clark had deliberately selected a smaller, less   
widely used company to make it more difficult for Diana to   
spring a plant on them. The driver, a slender Asian man,   
took them to Metro General in record time without the usual   
hair-raising chances that made Lois normally unwilling to   
take a Metro cab anywhere she didn't need to. She waited   
while Clark paid the man and added a modest tip to the   
total. As they moved toward the main steps of the   
hospital, she remarked, "I think I'll use Carnation Cabs   
from now on, if that's how they drive. We didn't have one   
close call in twenty-two blocks."  
  
"My friend, Chen Chow, suggested them," Clark said. "A   
friend of his in Chinatown owns the company."  
  
"Naturally," Lois said. "That explains the name." She   
worked her way up the wide steps of the hospital, noting   
how Clark waited patiently for her, matching his pace to   
hers. She had learned so much about this man in the last   
few days: things she had never imagined about her perfect   
superhero before, or about her partner--and things, she   
suspected, that he hadn't realized she had learned. For   
one thing, she had realized almost at once that he wasn't   
perfect--not by a long shot--and yet, that somehow made the   
idea of being Superman's partner much less scary. He   
depended on her, that much was plain. It wasn't just an   
act to make her feel more adequate, nor did he resent it   
when she held him back. Somehow, she seemed to make up for   
his lacks, just as he made up for hers--as she and Clark   
had always done, even before she had found out about the   
other side of his personality. She brought something to   
Superman that would have been lacking without her; he knew   
it and valued her for it. Somehow, it made him more   
amazing to her than he had seemed when he was the   
invincible alien.  
  
And that was something else. Superman might have seemed   
alien, but Clark didn't. He was, perhaps, the most human   
man she had ever met. So much for ultra-logical aliens   
with pointy ears, she thought, whimsically. *Her* alien   
was something special, and if she wanted him, he was all   
hers. And she did want him. As soon as this mess was over   
and Diana Stride was under wraps, she was going to tell him   
so.   
  
"What's so funny?" Clark asked.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You're smiling."  
  
"Oh. Nothing, really--well, yes, something. I just made   
up my mind about something, that's all. I'll tell you   
later."  
  
"Okay." He opened the big, glass door for her. "Making it   
all right?"  
  
"Yeah." She entered the hospital lobby, glad to be out of   
the falling mist. The bright lights in the room made her   
eyes tear up and she blinked the water away.  
  
There were still three or four journalists still doggedly   
staking the place out. She recognized Jenkins from the   
Star and another man whose name she couldn't recall, from   
the Intelligencer. And there was the creep from the Dirt   
Digger. She glanced at her watch, keeping her face turned   
from the men. All she needed was for them to spot her.  
  
"It's still visiting hours for another thirty minutes," she   
said. "We could go up to Jimmy's room and see how he's   
doing."  
  
"Good idea," Clark said. He was carefully keeping his head   
turned away from the reporters as well, she noticed.   
"Mayson said they're still keeping him on the ICU floor to   
make it easier for them to guard him. We can see how Mr. X   
is doing while we're there."  
  
Without fuss, the two reporters traversed the main corridor   
toward the bank of elevators. Metro General was one of the   
largest hospitals on the Atlantic coast and, as such, there   
were plenty of people here at all hours. As they moved   
down the hallway a nurse passed them, wheeling along a   
woman who appeared to be in labor. Lois glanced at her in   
sympathy and then gave her a second, harder look. Could it   
be possible?  
  
If she hadn't been hyper-alert and suspicious of everyone   
she would hardly have noticed the patient at all. She   
looked disheveled, her hair hung in her eyes and she wore   
no makeup. Hunched over in the wheelchair, she clutched   
her rounded belly as if she were in pain. For a moment   
Lois hesitated, unsure. If she was wrong, she would   
undoubtedly upset the woman, annoy the nurse and thoroughly   
tick off the police whose job it was to guard Jimmy and Mr.   
X.  
  
The wheelchair had gone past and was disappearing around   
the corner by the time she made up her mind. "Clark!" she   
whispered, "I think that was Diana Stride!"  
  
"Who was?" Clark asked.  
  
"That woman in the wheelchair!"  
  
"Are you sure?" Clark asked, dubiously.  
  
"No, but I *think* it was! Hurry!"  
  
They rounded the corner. Ahead of them, the nurse was just   
wheeling her patient into the elevator. The doors closed   
as they approached and the light indicating the location of   
the elevator began to flash.  
  
"We're too late!" Lois said, the frustration in her voice   
making it louder than she had intended. "Now what?"  
  
**********   
  
"Watch the indicator," Clark said. "Let's see where she   
goes."  
  
"Which floor is Maternity?" Lois asked.   
  
"Fourth," Clark said. He counted out loud.   
"Second...Third...Fourth...it's not stopping. Fifth." As   
he spoke, the indicator ceased moving. "It's stopping on   
Fifth. That's Pediatrics. ICU and Critical Care are on   
Sixth. Call the elevator. I'll meet you on Fifth."  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"Up the stairs. Something's wrong."  
  
"Go. Be careful."  
  
"I will." He flashed her a grin and opened the door to the   
stairs.  
  
Lois rang for a car and waited, impatiently tapping her   
good foot. The indicator they had been watching still   
hadn't moved, which was very odd.  
  
A moment later there was the traditional "ding" announcing   
the arrival of another elevator and a pair of doors popped   
open. Four people exited and the last man out held the   
doors while Lois worked her slow way inside. That might   
have been unusual courtesy in Metropolis, but he was   
wearing a white uniform and his nametag identified him as   
an LVN.   
  
"Thanks," she said.  
  
"Don't mention it. Need any help?"  
  
"No, I'm fine." Lois smiled and punched the button for the   
fifth floor.  
  
The doors closed and the elevator moved smoothly upward.  
  
As might have been expected, the elevator slowed to a stop   
on the second floor and the door opened to admit two   
passengers: an elderly man in a wheelchair and a candy-  
striper who was pushing the chair. She pushed the button   
for Third and the doors slowly closed again. The elevator   
moved upward once more and braked to a stop on Third: Med-  
Surg, Lois noted, suppressing the desire to demand that the   
two hurry. The volunteer maneuvered her charge carefully   
out of the elevator, and then held the door courteously for   
two uniformed employees who boarded with a leisurely air.   
One of the white-coated women held the door open while she   
exchanged conversation with a technician waiting in the   
hall.  
  
Lois had had enough. "Do you mind?" she inquired, acidly.   
"I'd like to get to Fifth sometime tonight."  
  
The woman glanced at her in annoyance and Lois glared   
unapologetically back. Slowly, the other woman released   
the door and stepped back into the elevator. The doors   
slid shut and the conveyance started upward, only to come   
to a stop on Fourth. The talkative passenger exited, with   
an irritated look at Lois, who ignored it. Again, the   
elevator moved upward and finally slid to a long-delayed   
stop on Fifth.   
  
She exited to a scene of excitement. Two Security men,   
several persons in the clothing of hospital personnel, and   
Clark were standing around the elevator that the woman they   
had believed to be Diana Stride had entered. A woman lay   
on the floor of the elevator, unconscious, dressed only in   
her underthings. A doctor was dabbing at a bleeding cut on   
the back of her head. As Lois exited the elevator, someone   
appeared with a blanket to cover the victim. Lois glanced   
at the scene for an appalled instant, then turned to Clark.   
"What happened?"  
  
"When I got here, a couple of people were already here," he   
told her in a low voice. "It looks like Diana held up the   
nurse and took her clothes. There's the wheelchair." He   
pointed to the opposite side of the hallway. "Diana is   
gone."  
  
"And probably wearing a nurse's uniform," Lois said. "Why   
would she come to Pediatrics? Even if she goes up the   
stairs, she'll be stopped when she comes out onto the   
floor."  
  
"She may not need to. What if she plans to do something   
from here?"  
  
Lois stared at him, horrified at the suggestion. "This is   
Pediatrics! It's full of kids!"  
  
"Do you think that would stop Diana?" Clark asked, quietly.  
  
Lois bit her lip. "Probably not. Where do you suppose she   
is?"  
  
Clark was looking around. "She could be anywhere. Lois,   
you find a phone. Get hold of the cops at the station   
upstairs. I'm going to go look for her."  
  
Lois glanced at the scene of confusion. One of the   
Security men was speaking rapidly into a radio. "I think   
they're already finding out," she said. "I'm not letting   
you go anywhere alone with that woman here, somewhere."  
  
Clark didn't argue. He pointed to the left. "I'm going to   
try down here, first."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"If we go halfway down, we'll be right under the rooms   
where Jimmy and Mr. X are," he said.   
  
Without another word, Lois followed him. In the open   
corridor, she could swing herself along on the crutches   
almost as fast as he could move. Personnel brushed past   
them, hurrying toward the scene of the assault, but no one   
tried to stop them.  
  
"I think this is the spot." Clark paused, turning his head   
right and left. To their right was a patient's room, the   
door closed, and to the left, a supply closet. Clark   
pushed the door to the patient's room open and peered   
within. Lois craned her neck to see past him.  
  
There were two occupied beds in the room, and the   
television was on. The two little boys in the beds were   
engrossed in some kind of two-player video game. They   
never even looked around when the reporters stuck their   
heads through the door.  
  
There was a soft thumping sound behind them. Lois glanced   
over her shoulder but there was no one to be seen. There   
was only one place the sound could have come from.  
  
Without a second thought, she swiveled on her crutches and   
crossed the hall to the supply closet. If she startled a   
custodian or a nursing assistant, it would be worth the   
chance. Not letting herself stop to think, she jerked open   
the door.  
  
Diana Stride was kneeling on the floor, assembling some   
kind of mechanism. As Lois's brain registered the fact,   
the woman saw her and her hand flashed to the handgun lying   
beside her.  
  
"Lois!" Clark shouted. As the gun came level with her,   
Clark's hands shoved her to the floor. The silenced gun   
spat four times. The noise was loud in the confined space   
but some distance away, anyone who heard it probably   
wouldn't know what it was. The bullets whined over her   
head, and she saw Clark jerk as one of them struck him.   
She screamed.  
  
Clark went over Lois in a rush, tackling the assassin   
before she could fire again or rise from her kneeling   
position on the linoleum. Lois rolled to her knees in time   
to see Clark wrenching at the weapon. Diana Stride twisted   
like a cat, pulled her hand free and struck at the side of   
Clark's head with the gun. He managed to half-block her,   
but the blow connected anyway. Lois grabbed for the   
nearest heavy object within her reach and scrambled toward   
the struggling bodies. Blood smeared the two of them and   
the floor liberally, and she couldn't tell which of them   
was bleeding. If it was Clark, he couldn't be too badly   
hurt, she told herself, hopefully, but he was definitely   
getting the worst of the battle. She hesitated for an   
instant, waiting for her chance. The assassin struck a   
second time and Clark half fell across her. She pushed him   
aside, starting to turn toward Lois.  
  
Lois swung the bedpan as hard as she could.  
  
There was a tremendous clang and Diana gasped, seeming to   
pause, then her hand relaxed, allowing the weapon to drop   
and she slid bonelessly to the floor.  
  
"Clark!" Lois pushed the woman out of her way and reached   
Clark where he lay face down on the floor. With a   
tremendous effort, she turned him over.  
There was a bullet hole in the front of his shirt, she saw,   
but only a few streaks of blood stained the cloth.   
Hastily, she pulled it open.  
  
On his chest, directly over his heart, was a tiny cut and a   
huge black and blue bruise where the bullet must have   
struck. She closed her eyes as the world swam for a   
moment, at the realization of what had happened.   
  
Clark stirred under her hands and she opened her eyes at   
once. He began to push himself slowly to a sitting   
position. Lois helped him, not at all surprised to   
discover that her hands were shaking. He rubbed his face,   
looking dazed, then his gaze went past her to where Diana   
was sprawled on the floor. "What happened?"  
  
"I hit her with a bedpan," Lois said. Her voice was   
shaking as hard as her hands. "Clark, she nearly killed   
you!"  
  
"I know." He looked down at the spreading bruise on his   
chest and then pulled his shirt together, beginning to do   
up the buttons. "Where did all the blood come from?"  
  
Lois was checking Diana Stride over, since Clark didn't   
seem to be bleeding heavily enough to account for it.   
Almost at once, she discovered a tiny cut on the woman's   
scalp, which explained the apparent gallons of blood   
smearing the floor. "I guess she hit her head when you   
tackled her." She pointed to a shelf where various rolls   
of gauze and adhesive tape had been neatly stacked. "Hand   
me one of those. And you better call Mayson Drake's   
people." She looked distastefully at the half-assembled   
device that Diana had been working on. "I could be wrong,   
but I think this might be a bomb."  
  
Clark got slowly to his feet and picked up a roll of gauze.   
"Will you be all right until I get back?"  
  
"Yeah." She took it from him and began to tie Diana's   
wrists together. "Just don't take too long, okay? I think   
I've had enough for one day."  
  
"You and me both," Clark said. He fingered the hole in his   
shirt where the bullet had struck. "Now, all I have to do   
is explain this."  
  
Lois gave a shaky smile. "You were wearing a bulletproof   
vest."  
  
"Yeah," Clark said. "I guess I was."  
  
**********  
  
"Are any of your other powers back?" Lois asked. They were   
standing just inside the main doors of the hospital,   
waiting for a taxi. Outside, the mist had turned into a   
very cold rain, spattering the sidewalk with big globs of   
water and running down the gutters like small rivers.   
Overhead, thunder growled, occasionally.  
  
"I think my hearing is starting to improve," Clark said,   
uncertainly. "Hopefully, I'll be mostly back to normal in   
a day or so."  
  
"I'm just glad you've started to get your invulnerability   
back," Lois said. The thought of that bruise on his chest   
still made her shudder slightly. "Clark, you could have   
been killed!"  
  
He put an arm around her. "I couldn't let her hurt you,"   
he said, quietly. Lois gulped, recalling the incident   
weeks ago when Clyde Barrow--or his clone, not that it made   
any difference--had shot Clark. This time, it could have   
been real. She had known for a long time that her partner   
would willingly die for her, but the incident tonight drove   
that knowledge home in a way nothing else could.  
  
"We can't go back to either of our apartments, or use my   
car until your powers are working again," she said,   
changing the subject, abruptly. If she thought about it   
too much, she was going to break down in public and that   
was something Lois Lane didn't do. "You've got to check   
them over before I'll trust any of them."  
  
"Where do you want to go, then?" he asked. "We have to   
sleep somewhere, tonight."  
  
"Well, we still have a room at the Shady Inn," she pointed   
out. "At least it's safe."  
  
"Lois, there's only one bed," he objected.  
  
"All the better," she said. "If there's anything I'm sure   
of about you, Clark, it's that I can trust you. I want to   
hold on to you tonight. Otherwise, I'm going to have   
nightmares; I guarantee it."  
  
His arm tightened around her shoulders a little. "All   
right."  
  
A taxi from Carnation Cabs pulled up outside and Clark   
opened the lobby door for her. She looked doubtfully at   
the water pelting the front steps and then gasped as her   
partner matter-of-factly picked her up in his arms and   
carried her down the stairs. Inside the cab a moment   
later, she brushed at the water on her clothing while Clark   
gave the driver the address.  
  
"I guess," she said, "that we'll have to take the day off   
tomorrow. This was my last, good outfit."  
  
"Mine, too," Clark said. "I suppose we can phone the story   
in to the Planet."  
  
They fell silent as the cab driver took them through the   
downpour to the shabby, little motel. He pulled up as   
close to the cabin as possible and Clark paid him before he   
and Lois stepped out. Again, he carried his partner the   
few steps to the cabin, the crutches dangling awkwardly   
from her hand, and set her down inside.  
  
Lois shook the water from her eyes and wiped her face as   
Clark closed the door. "Brr. It's cold in here."  
  
"I'll turn up the thermostat," Clark said, suiting the   
action to the word. Lois made her way slowly toward the   
bed and sank down on the foot of it. She could hear the   
hum of the heater as it kicked in and within moments, a   
warm draft began to blow into the room.  
  
"That's better," she said. She removed her jacket. Clark   
took it at once, shook it to remove as much water as   
possible and hung it on the rack that stood behind the   
door. "Did you bring back the stuff you were wearing this   
morning?"  
  
"Yeah. Why?"  
  
"I figured I could wear the sweat shirt tonight and you can   
wear the sweat pants," she said. "I'm tired."  
  
"So am I," he admitted. "It's been a long day. Do you   
want the bathroom first?"  
  
"You go ahead. It's going to take me longer than you with   
this thing on my ankle," she said.  
  
He nodded. "Okay. This won't take long."  
  
He was right. Ten minutes later, he emerged from the   
bathroom wearing the sweat pants. The sight of the huge   
black and blue mark on his chest made her shudder again but   
she said nothing. In the tiny bathroom, she washed her   
face, brushed her teeth with her finger and completed her   
bedtime routine as quickly as she could. When she slipped   
into the sweatshirt, she discovered that it came to mid-  
thigh, and she had to roll the sleeves back a couple of   
times. When she left the bathroom again, Clark was already   
lying in the bed. He smiled at her, seeming a little   
nervous. "If you like, I can sleep on top of the covers."  
  
"I couldn't hold you, if you did that. I hope I don't kick   
you with this thing."  
  
"I don't care if you do." He held out his free arm,   
looking almost shy. "To tell you the truth, I want to hold   
you, too. Diana might have nearly killed me, but she was   
aiming at you."   
  
Lois sank down on the edge of the bed, laid her crutches on   
the floor and slid under the covers. Clark put his arm   
around her and she turned to face him. With one hand, she   
lightly touched the bruise. "Does it hurt?"  
  
"A little. I'm glad I have it, though, because you're   
alive."  
  
"Because of you. You pushed me out of the way. Clark, if   
your invulnerability hadn't been coming back, that bullet   
would have killed you!"  
  
"I didn't have time to think," he confessed, "I just   
reacted."  
  
She shivered slightly. The nearness of disaster had left   
her feeling shaken. "I nearly lost you, and I hadn't even   
had a chance to tell you what I'd decided."  
  
"And that was...?"  
  
"I made up my mind--remember, I said so before all this   
started? If you want me--"  
  
"*If* I want you?" he said, sounding startled. "Of course   
I do! I want you for the rest of my life."  
  
"I know," she said, "even if I don't understand why. You   
know what I told you about my parents--I've never had much   
faith in this 'forever' thing, but you do and I know I   
don't want to be without you, so if you're willing to take   
the risk, then I am, too."  
  
He rested his chin on top of her head. "I'm willing, all   
right. I don't ever want to be without you, Lois. You're   
the reason I stayed in Metropolis; you're the reason I   
created Superman; and you're the woman I've been waiting   
for all my life."  
  
"You're *sure*?"  
  
She felt him nod. "I'm sure." He pressed a kiss on the   
top of her head, since it probably was the only place he   
could reach at the moment, she thought. Slowly, she ran   
her fingers over the bruise on his chest again. If she'd   
ever needed the proof of how Clark felt about her, it was   
there.  
  
She slid her free arm over his ribcage and snuggled down   
against him. "We need to discuss a lot of things--  
tomorrow," she added. A yawn interrupted her. She heard   
Clark chuckle softly. Then, he yawned as well.  
  
"Go to sleep," she said. "You know, I don't think I'll be   
having any nightmares tonight, after all..."  
  
**********  
  
Epilogue  
  
"Nice job, both of you." Perry indicated the headline that   
would be hitting the streets in a little less than an hour.   
The indictment of Diana Stride, former host of Top Copy, on   
multiple counts of murder and attempted murder, was big   
news. About the only drawback that Lois could see offhand,   
was that it had given the failing tabloid news program a   
second lease on life, which showed serious signs of   
disturbing the relative peace that had reigned over her   
life and Clark's for the past couple of weeks.  
  
Clark rested a hand on her shoulder. "Well, trust Lois   
Lane to bring in not only the story but the criminal as   
well," he remarked. "Although, hitting her with a bedpan   
was kind of an unusual way of subduing an assassin."  
  
Perry gave a bark of laughter. "Whatever it takes." He   
glanced at Lois. "You two can take off. I hear you're   
gettin' that thing off your ankle today, Lois. A bit   
early, isn't it? It's only been two weeks."  
  
"They're just taking off the plaster cast," she explained,   
getting to her feet. "My doctor said he thinks I can   
manage with an athletic one from now on--you know, the kind   
held on with Velcro straps. I can hardly wait."  
  
Perry grinned. "I understand that. I had a cast on my   
wrist for six weeks when I was in my teens. The part I   
remember the most clearly was how the durned thing itched,   
the whole time."  
  
"Don't remind me," she said, making a face.   
  
"Here you go." Clark was holding her coat for her, and she   
slipped her arms into it. When she had fastened the   
buttons, he had the crutches ready to hand her. "We'll see   
you on Monday, Chief."  
  
Perry slapped him on the shoulder. "If any of those   
tabloid bottom feeders bother you, Clark, you tell 'em   
where to go, you hear me?"  
  
Clark's mouth twisted slightly. "Diana was just trying to   
distract people from her problems, Chief. Nobody took her   
seriously."  
  
"Of course not," his boss said. "That's why the Planet   
didn't even bother to mention it and neither did the Star.   
But you know tabloids. Anything to sell their rags."  
  
A few minutes later, however, when they emerged from the   
Planet, Clark winced involuntarily as two men emerged from   
behind the corner of the building.  
  
"Clark!" the grey-haired one said. "Any comment on Diana   
Stride's assertion that you're Superman?"  
  
"Hello, Nunk," Clark said, not in his most welcoming voice.   
"I don't think you need a comment. She's an assassin for   
Intergang and Lois and I caught her. Mostly, Lois caught   
her because I was unconscious on the floor. What do you   
think?"  
  
Lois took his elbow. "Come on, Clark. Anyone who would   
believe you're Superman would believe in little green men   
from Mars." She gave Nunk a withering look. "Oh yes, I   
forgot who I'm talking to. This is the guy who thinks   
Benjamin Franklin lives in some woman's electric blender.   
We're going to be late for my appointment. I don't want to   
keep this cast on my ankle a minute longer than I have to."  
  
Nevertheless, when they were safely in the Cherokee, Lois   
said, "First Top Copy and now the National Whisper. This   
is getting to be a real pain. We're going to have to think   
of some way to convince people that Diana was making it   
up."  
  
Clark signaled and turned left at the stoplight. "I don't   
think she was, Lois. She saw Superman in jeans--and then   
she saw me take that bullet. I think she knew."  
  
"So do I." Lois bit her lip. "Fortunately, she doesn't   
have any proof but we have to do something, or it could   
start to seriously interfere when you need to go save the   
day."  
  
"I've been thinking of that," Clark said. "I can't afford   
to have people watching me all the time. Maybe we can talk   
it over with Mom and Dad when we see them this evening."  
  
Lois hesitated. "Are you sure I won't be in the way,   
Clark? I know Easter is sort of a family holiday..."  
  
"Of course you won't be in the way," he said. "Did I tell   
you how thrilled Mom and Dad were when I told them you knew   
the truth? Dad said he thought I'd put it off way too long   
as it was." He reached out to take her hand. "Remember   
that 'rest of my life' thing?"  
  
She nodded without speaking.  
  
"I meant it. Mom's been dropping hints ever since I told   
her about us. She warned me I'd better not let you back   
out of this weekend. She's dying to tell you about all the   
embarrassing things I did while I was growing up."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"You better believe it." He squeezed her hand. "Of   
course, she guessed months ago that I was head over heels   
in love with you, no matter how hard I tried to hide it."  
  
"Your mother and father are pretty smart people," Lois   
said. "In some ways, I think they're a lot smarter than   
mine. At least they knew what was important in life while   
my parents were busy screwing up their own lives and their   
kids' lives, too. You were lucky to have them."  
  
"Yeah, I was," Clark said, slowly. "When we get to   
Smallville, I'll show you Shuster's Field where they found   
me. They couldn't have kids of their own, but they made   
the best possible parents for a foundling from a dead   
world. I was lucky in another way too, though. I not only   
had them, but I have you. I thought for a while that I was   
never going to find the right woman for me--until I saw   
you. In a split second, everything changed and I knew you   
were the one I'd been looking for all my life."  
  
"Oh, Clark..."  
  
"So," he concluded, "don't even think about trying to get   
out of this. You're just going to have to put up with a   
quiet Easter in Smallville with my parents and me."  
  
Lois determinedly swallowed the large lump in her throat.   
"That's a lot better than spending a quiet Easter alone in   
my apartment."  
  
"I hope so." He pulled into the parking lot of Metro   
General. "Let's go get that thing off your ankle, shall   
we?"  
  
"That sounds good to me," she said. "I think there's a   
parking spot in the middle of the second row."  
  
"I see it." He maneuvered through the crowded lot, past   
persons apparently oblivious to the presence of the   
Cherokee and pulled into the space. Lois reached for the   
door handle, but Clark put a hand on her wrist. She turned   
and found herself irresistibly tugged into Clark's arms and   
thoroughly kissed.  
  
When he let her go, she gasped a little for air. "What was   
*that* for?"  
  
He was smiling. "For being the woman I love. For being   
you."  
  
She laughed softly. "You have a very convincing argument,   
mister."  
  
"You looked like you needed a little convincing," he said.   
"Next time you start to doubt whether my parents and I want   
you along, just remember that."  
  
"Okay." She rested a hand against his cheek. "I'll tell   
you what. When I start getting doubtful, I'll let you know   
and you can convince me again."  
  
"It's a deal," he said, "Now, let's go get that cast off."  
  
**********  
  
The Kansas farmhouse looked like something out of a Norman   
Rockwell painting, Lois thought a couple of hours later and   
wondered how she could ever have thought that the Kents   
might not want her here. The cozy living room was much as   
she remembered it from a year ago. It was funny how a   
year--and an altered viewpoint--could make all the   
difference. A crackling fire burned in the fireplace and   
outside, the westering sun cast a pinkish light on the   
little scudding clouds that dotted the sky.  
  
She heard footsteps and Martha Kent entered the room, a   
photo album held carefully in her hands. "Here it is.   
I've been wanting to show these to you for months."  
  
"Clark was afraid you'd show me all kinds of embarrassing   
pictures of him," Lois said, "but I want to see what he was   
like when he was little."  
  
Martha sat down on the sofa, next to her. "He'd probably   
think these were embarrassing," she admitted. "They're   
just pictures of him doing all the things normal little   
boys do, though. He wasn't super powered when he was a   
child, you know. He didn't start getting his powers until   
he was around ten or eleven, and we weren't really sure   
there was anything unusual until he was nearly twelve."   
She opened the cover. "Here he is, playing with his little   
boats in the bath tub..."  
  
There was a resemblance between the happy, smiling toddler   
in the tub and the man she knew now, Lois thought. Had he   
always had that brilliant smile? "He looks like he's   
having a good time," she said.   
  
"He used to love baths," Martha said. "That is, until he   
was about seven. Then it was all I could do to get him   
near soap and water. This next picture was at the town   
Halloween party..."  
  
**********  
  
In the barn, Clark finished helping his father with the   
chores. He glanced back in the direction of the house and   
groaned aloud.  
  
"What?" Jonathan asked.  
  
"Mom's showing Lois those pictures of me at Lana's fourth   
birthday party," he explained, morosely. "You remember the   
one where Pete Ross smeared icing in my hair?"  
  
"How could I forget?" His father chuckled at the memory.   
"Women don't look at these things the way we men do, son.   
She probably thinks you were cute."  
  
"I hope so," Clark said.   
  
"She will. Your mother wants her to feel more like one of   
the family. Have you asked her, yet?"  
  
"Not yet," Clark said. "Lois is kind of skittish about it.   
I'm letting her get used to the idea, first."  
  
"I know the feeling," Jonathan said. "I was so anxious to   
get married that I jumped the gun. Your mom turned me down   
the first three times I asked her but eventually she came   
around. Lois will, too."  
  
"I know. I just don't want to pressure her."  
  
"You're a lot more patient than I was," his father said.   
"Grab a pail, son. The cows aren't going to milk   
themselves and they don't take well to super speed   
milking."  
  
"I found that out years ago," Clark said. "Let's get this   
done. I want to get in there before Mom completely   
destroys any respect Lois may still have for me..."  
  
**********  
  
Martha's cooking was just as delicious as Lois remembered   
and for a moment, she was assailed by doubts again. If his   
mom was this good a cook, what did Clark think of her own   
pathetic kitchen skills? She glanced up to see him   
grinning at her.  
  
"It's a good thing Mom taught me most of what she knows,"   
he observed, seeming to read her mind. "Don't worry, Lois.   
I can cook for both of us."  
  
"It's just as well," she retorted. "I only know how to   
make four things and the main ingredient in three of those   
is chocolate."  
  
Martha laughed. "I don't know why the woman is always   
expected to be the cook," she said. "She might have more   
important things to take up her time."  
  
"Exactly," Clark said. "When did I ever say I expected you   
to cook, Lois?"  
  
"Never," Lois admitted.  
  
"I raised a smart son," Martha said. She rose from the   
table. "Now, Clark is going to do the dishes for us. If   
we really hurry, I may be able to show you where you're   
going to sleep tonight before he finishes. Unless," she   
added hopefully, "you two are--"  
  
Clark broke into embarrassed laughter. "Mom, you're   
incorrigible!"  
  
Jonathan cleared his throat. "Martha, I'm sure Clark and   
Lois know what's best for them."  
  
Martha glanced at her red-faced son and laughed. "Clark,   
you're just too easy," she said. "It's not even a   
challenge! Come on, Lois. You remember where Clark's room   
is, don't you?"  
  
**********  
  
It was some hours later. The fire had died down to glowing   
embers and a single lamp burned at the foot of the stairs.   
Lois sat quietly on the sofa looking around at the cozy   
room. Everything about this place said home. This was why   
Clark was the way he was and this was why he believed in   
forever. The security he had known in this house had   
become a part of him.  
  
It was the kind of home Lois had thought she had, while she   
was small--before her father had begun having affair after   
sordid affair and before her mother had started drinking.   
She wasn't sure she wanted to be tied to one place, but it   
did have a certain attraction. She had always maintained   
her feeling of independence with a kind of defiance--if she   
depended on no one, it wouldn't matter if someone let her   
down.   
  
But now, that was all changed. She had Clark, and she   
found that she depended on him. It wasn't all one way,   
though, because he depended on her, too. Things were   
changing so fast it took her breath away, but she found   
that it wasn't unpleasant. Confusing, yes, but that might   
not be such a bad thing. Being alone and depending on no   
one might be safe, but it was lonely. She might have to   
give up some of that fierce independence, but what she   
gained in its place could be infinitely more valuable.  
  
"I wondered where you were." Clark's voice spoke softly   
from behind her. "Is anything wrong, Lois?"  
  
She shook her head. "No."  
  
He came around the sofa and settled down beside her. "Are   
you tired?"  
  
She leaned against him, feeling a comfortable sense of   
fatigue. "A little. I was just thinking that this house   
would have been a wonderful place to grow up. It feels   
like--well, like home."  
  
He put an arm around her. "It was, I guess. It wasn't the   
place, though, so much as the people. If I'd grown up in a   
two room apartment in the city, it would still have been   
home."  
  
Lois was silent for a long moment, digesting that. "I   
think I understand," she said. "You're right, of course.   
I was wondering if something like this was what I wanted.   
I'm really not sure."  
  
"That's okay," Clark said. "Where I live, or in what--it   
doesn't matter, as long as I'm with you. To me, that's   
home enough."  
  
She turned to look at him in the darkness. He wasn't   
wearing his glasses, and Superman's profile was distinctive   
against the reddish glow of the embers in the fireplace.   
"Do you mean that?"  
  
He turned to face her. "Of course. The 'where' isn't   
important. It's the person I'm with that matters."  
  
She rested her head against his shoulder. "That makes me   
feel better."  
  
"Good," he said.   
  
"I'm glad I came," Lois said. She exhaled, feeling tension   
that she hadn't even been aware of draining from her mind   
and body. "Your parents are so--not insane. Your mom   
showed me your pictures, you know. You were a cute little   
boy, but you make an even cuter big one."  
  
"Unless I have frosting in my hair," he muttered, under his   
breath.  
  
Lois giggled. "You'll have to tell me the story behind   
that," she said.   
  
Clark laughed, softly. "Tomorrow," he said.   
  
"Okay." She relaxed against him, enjoying the sensation of   
closeness. Clark was very comfortable to lean against.  
  
He rested his head on top of hers, and both were silent,   
watching the flicker of the fire. The old farmhouse was   
quiet except for the creak of a board and the soft sound of   
the wind blowing against the sides of the building. Somewhere,   
a cricket was chirping rhythmically. Lois laid her head   
against his shoulder and closed her eyes, and when she opened   
them again, the rosy light of early morning was shining   
through the window.  
  
The End (until the final story, that is). 


End file.

Lois and Clark, Adventure, Romance