Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Fanfic Related 'opening lines' Fanfic Quote game

The sound of the ringing phone woke Clark from a deep sleep. He
rolled over and glanced at the clock. Three AM. Who would be
calling him at three AM?

"Hello, Clark?"

Oh. Of course. "Lois? Are you okay?"

"No! I'm not okay! I was tired but I couldn't fall asleep so I
started watching Ivory Tower and... Oh no! I just told you I
watch Ivory Tower! I can't believe I told you I watch a soap
opera!"

"One hundred and seventeen buttons," the Wedding Coordinator had pronounced with no small satisfaction, as she closed the last one. Between the bride's mom and herself, the "buttoning in" of Lois had taken a mere half an hour. During which the bride had stood quietly, mind racing, as each button further sealed her fate- locking her away from her former life, her former self, and her former...ummm...partner.

The attorney softly touched Clark's elbow. "Mr. Kent? I think we're all here now. Please come into the conference room."

Clark looked up at the older man's sympathetic eyes and slowly nodded. His knees were kitten-weak and nearly didn't support him as he stood.

He couldn’t take his eyes off them. The cartoon and the black and white man, the sullen teenager, the young man with the wooden facial expressions and the tall one. Each of them claimed to be Clark Kent, and yet not one of them looked at all like him.

Are we rolling?

We are? Oh! Ahem.

Good evening, this is Lance Sharper, coming to you live from the home of Metropolis' own Clark Kent, AKA Superman.

His voice was smoky, husky, filled with the pain of a lifetime of regrets, and as he began to sing, the darkened room fell silent. All eyes focused on a single dark figure perched on a stool at the end of the room, and his eyes seemed to be focused out into infinity.

The large double bed could just be seen through the door to
the bedroom, but for some reason Lois' eyes gravitated to
it. She swallowed hard. She'd been in the honeymoon suite
at the Lexor previously. She'd even slept in that bed
before. But this time was different.

She heard the man behind her paying the bellboy and closing
the door. Somehow when she had accepted his proposal, she
hadn't considered what would happen on their wedding night.
She shook her head slightly. It was crazy. Obviously, he
would expect to consummate their marriage. Still, she
wondered if he was as nervous as she was.

She could feel him come up behind her, wrapping his arms
around her waist. She tried to force herself to relax. She
had been in his arms before.

"It's going to be okay, Lois," he whispered.

Whistling, Clark Kent stepped off the elevator into the newsroom of The Metropolis Star--and shied back as a newspaper was shoved into his face.

"Hey, Clark, Mike led with your story! Congrats!"

Clark's dazzling smile flashed, and he pushed the paper to one side to reveal Paul Banning's gapped-toothed grin. "Thanks, Paul." He had already seen the morning paper, but it was nice to have his co-workers recognize his achievement.

"Kent! In my office!" the editor, Mike Nichols, called.

Paul clapped him on the shoulder as he turned away. "Good going, kid."

Clark nodded and continued across the newsroom. At 28, he'd been in the newspaper business for half a dozen years; he'd had front page stories in papers all over the world, but here he was a newcomer, and maybe from Paul's vantage point of twenty years, he *was* just a kid. He shrugged, his tweed sports jacket sliding loosely over his coarse cotton shirt. Okay, so maybe the other papers weren't great metropolitan newspapers, but The Star was no Daily Planet, either.

Even at breakfast, Lex Luthor looked like he'd stepped off the cover of GQ. As he wiped his mouth on the linen napkin and stood up, he appeared ready to chair a board meeting, which, in fact, he was scheduled to do in an hour. "Chef Andre surpassed himself this morning," he noted. "Mrs. Cox, remind me to increase his salary."

The beautiful black woman dipped her head in a gesture that seemed more regal than dutiful. "Yes, Lex."

He turned to the woman who sat on his other side. "Are you going to work today, my dear?"

Lois took a sip of rich, full-flavored coffee and felt a sudden nostalgia for the strong, black brew that they had consumed by the gallon at The Planet. "No," she said at last. "My assistant can handle anything that comes up." Somehow, after her wedding to Lex, she had been promoted to some kind of producer, and she no longer wrote or researched stories. She didn't even assign stories to other reporters or head up story meetings like Perry used to. People occasionally dropped by to ask her opinion about one story or another, but that was it. She had never felt so useless.

After the destruction of The Daily Planet three months ago, her world had collapsed. Lex had been there to pick up the pieces, but in the debacle, Lois Lane, world-class investigative reporter, had vanished and never come back.

She swirled her coffee, staring into the tiny vortex as if it could tell her where Lois Lane had gone, and shook her head. "I won't be going to work," she repeated.

Lex studied her through narrowed eyes, then said briskly, "Very well. Mrs. Cox and I have some reports to go over before the board meeting. I'll see you this evening at dinner."

Without looking up, Lois raised her hand in a half-hearted wave. "Bye, Lex." The door closed behind them, and she picked up the paper, glancing down at the lurid headline: "I am a fugitive from a sex slave ring." Her mouth twisted. Perry never would have let a headline like that go out on his paper, but The Star had always been more sensational than The Planet.

Three paragraphs into the story, she had changed her mind, and she looked back at the by-line. Clark Kent. She didn't recognize the name, but whoever he was, he was no tabloid hack. Returning to the story, she lost herself in the narrative, following the terrifying ordeal of Melissa Taylor, a college coed who was kidnapped on her way to a night class and found herself drugged and forced into prostitution as a sex slave. Without sensationalizing his subject, this Clark Kent brought the girl to life, and by drawing his readers into her story, he made a stronger statement against the horrors of forced prostitution than a dozen editorials or sermons could have done.

Lois dropped Clark off at his apartment with the hard copies of the
Luthor file not long after Perry and Jimmy departed. She sat down to
an evening of Chinese take out and research on her laptop as she
poured over the documents carefully, looking for any clues. She
removed her reading glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. A
knock at the door startled her. She quickly closed up all of the
files and turned off the laptop. She walked to the front door and
looked the through the peephole. She felt her stomach clench and her
heart slammed against her rib cage. Slowly, she exhaled and opened
the door.

Perry White was worried.

He stood at the window of his office, looking out at the
newsroom where his star team of investigative reporters was
currently working on a follow-up to the capture of Diana
Stride, and the testimony of Michael DiSanto, the Mr. X who
had been her partner when she worked as an assassin for
Intergang.

The unsupported allegation she had made at her arraignment,
that Clark Kent was in actuality, Superman, had been
virtually ignored by the responsible media and pounced on
by the tabloids in order to sell their rags. And that was
what worried Perry. With the others, he had laughed
publicly at the statement, but he, alone--at least he hoped
he was the only one--had realized that she was speaking the
absolute truth.

"It's them!"

The lone announcement erupted into a cheer as Lois Lane and Clark Kent stepped into the frenzied newsroom. A makeshift banner, proclaiming "Congratulations Lois and Clark!" was flung haphazardly across the back wall, food cluttered
every free space, and someone had decided it was all right to pull out a bottle of champagne at nine in the morning. But Lois and Clark only caught a glimpse of this before the riot closed in, smothering them with their congratulations.

The arm Lois felt Clark wrap lightly around her to keep her from being smashed by the crowd all together was greeted by delighted whistles.

"Way to go, CK!" a voice called out.

"Think you kept us in the dark long enough?"

"Ha! I knew what was going on all the time. I just can't believe they took so long to admit to it."

"Oh, you did not! You were still planning to seduce him last week."

"You've got great taste, Lois. I'll give you that."

"Why," Lois murmured in Clark's direction, "am I getting the distinct impression I'm not going to like whatever we did?"

As if in answer, a guy from accounting plunked a party hat on Lois's head and asked, "Mind if I kiss the-"

"Excuse me, I'm WHAT?!" Lois stared at the city clerk on the other side of the window in utter disbelief.

"According to my records, you're already married," the clerk repeated, more slowly this time.

"I am *not*," Lois insisted adamantly. "I would *know* if I was married! You think a woman forgets something like that? Maybe *you* would," she spat out, causing the clerk to stiffen defensively, "but I certainly wouldn't! I am not married!"

"Yes, you are. It says right here that you are, as of last December."

"Who does it say I'm married *to*?"

"Umm..." the clerk mumbled as she studied the records on more time. "A Mr. Clark Kent."

She had never been so frustrated. Never. In all her years as an investigative reporter, never had someone been so bold as to tell Lois Lane that she'd lost her edge.

Today it had happened.

This morning Ralph had walked casually past her desk, the day's edition of the Daily Planet in hand. He paused long enough to make sure she noticed him, then proceeded to say with a smirk, "Hmm, once again, another day goes by and the famous Lane byline hasn't even graced the front page." He saw her features flinch at his words, though she did her best to hide it, and it only served to encourage him. "Whatever is the world coming to?" he asked, his voice filled with mock exaggeration.

Her initial urge had been to stand up and slap that haughty expression right off his pudgy little face, but thankfully, she'd found enough control not to respond. Instead, she'd given him a searing glance and gone back to her phone conversation, pretending she hadn't been affected by his careless remark.

But inside, she had been hurt; the truth in the barb had wounded her more deeply than she cared to admit. Other than the occasional slump that every professional went through from time to time, she had always been the Planet's star reporter. Why had everything suddenly changed?

She hadn't written a decent story in a month and a half. Longer, probably, if she actually sat down with a calendar and counted the days, but there was no need for that. She was depressed enough already.

Her current investigation was a bust. Earlier in the morning, Lois had found out that the tip she had been given by one of her sources had turned out to be nothing more than a misunderstanding; he had overheard the wrong parts of a conversation and, consequently, come to the wrong conclusions. That particular situation, added to Ralph's comment, was responsible for her less-than-amiable demeanor and had, unfortunately, set the tone for the entire day.

The slump would bearable if Clark were here, she thought sullenly. Her partner always had the right words to reassure her and calm her down.

But Clark wasn't here anymore. It was funny, the way things had worked out, she mused. If Perry had told her five years ago that the day would come when she would loathe working alone, she would've told him he was crazy.

But then Clark had arrived on the scene and changed all that. Their names had been intertwined ever since, on byline after byline, award-winning story after story. After being his partner for four years, it was tough to acclimate herself to being "single" again. But that was the reality now; she was alone in her reporting.

And she just wasn't cutting it anymore.

Lois stood on the front porch of the farmhouse, blowing a stream of air upwards as she unsuccessfully tried to dislodge a wayward strand of hair that was stuck to her forehead. She finally gave up and roughly brushed it away with her hand. "The first time we come to Smallville as a couple and we have to choose the hottest week of the year," she muttered.

Clark put a tentative hand on her back and rubbed gently. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I can't control the weather ... I had no idea it would be this hot when we picked this week to come out."

"It's not your fault," she answered back on a sigh.

Clark straightened a little, feeling encouraged for the first time all day. Lois wasn't leaning into his touch the way she usually did, but neither was she shrugging him off. "I guess if we had to pick a week for me to help with the chores, though," he offered, a little more animated, "this is it. I'd rather it be me doing any heavy work outside than Dad."

The first thing she noticed was the noise.

It seemed to come from somewhere far away, and yet it cut through
her skull with the force of an axe. Voices. People shouting.
Screaming. A loud, continuous bell, like an alarm. Sirens wailing.
And one voice, somehow familiar, weeping and repeating one word
over and over. "No. No, no, no, no. No!"

Then she became aware of the light. Harsh, over-bright, it hurt
her eyes. She blinked, trying to adjust, and gradually she became
accustomed to it and found that she could see more clearly. Yet,
as with the sound, it felt as if she were looking through a haze.
A smoky mirror, or a greasy lens too rarely cleaned.

Prescott was too far from Metropolis to travel by taxi and too close to fly - at least by commercial airline. Clark could have flown there as Superman in a heartbeat. But he'd have had to explain to Perry and the accounting department at the Daily Planet why he didn't rent a car; and with everything else going on in his life right now, he just wasn't up to the trouble. So here he was, driving on a dark stretch of rural highway, a full moon illuminating the sky, and nothing but the radio to keep him company. And it wasn't doing a very good job since the mountains had interfered with reception and the best station he could receive was a scratchy, static-ridden one broadcasting a high school ball game.

"Back off, Linda. He's taken."

Clark Kent stared at his partner, dumbfounded. Had someone kidnapped Lois Lane and replaced her with Cat Grant while his attention was distracted?

If there was one thing he'd depended on where Lois was concerned, it was that she would never lay claim to him openly like that. That was the whole point. Sure, she hated that Linda was flirting with him, making obvious her availability and willingness. But Lois was supposed to react the way she'd done time and again over the past couple of days: a façade of rolling-eyed irritation about the fact that another woman was coming on to him, together with insistent denial that she was feeling anything even remotely close to jealousy. Yet at the same time she would find excuses to snipe at him. Open hostility towards Linda, both to the other woman's face and to him, was also to be expected, together with an undercurrent of possessiveness - but not, of course, because Lois was jealous.

"We have to let Lex kill Clark. I don't see any other way," said Lois
without preamble as Superman set her down on a mountainside high above
Metropolis.

When he was six years, two months, and nine days old, Clark Kent had an epiphany.

As epiphanies go it wasn't especially earth-shattering or even particularly stunning. It was small. It was quiet. It was inconsequential to anyone but Clark alone. But to him, at that
particular moment in his life, it was everything.

It had made what had begun as an ugly day suddenly good. And everything that had been wrong in his small corner of the world all at once right again.

APRIL 16TH, 1976
SMALLVILLE, KANSAS
[ALTWORLD 2]

The roads were icier than he'd expected for this time of year, but the little car wasn't having too much trouble navigating the rain-slicked streets. He turned the wheel carefully, knowing that the ditches in this part of the countryside were deep and that in this weather it would be all too easy to lose control.

Martha made a small sound as she shifted in the passenger seat, her head resting against the window as she slept. Jonathan smiled at her and peeked over his shoulder to check the backseat. Their ten-year-old son was also asleep, his little body stretched out full length. Jonathan chuckled a little at the sight, then turned his attention back to his driving.

It was certainly no fault of Jonathan's that the driver of the van couldn't slow down fast enough. It wasn't his fault that the roads were wet and slick, that the other driver had indulged in one too many drinks before he left his party. But the slightly inebriated man in the other vehicle hadn't counted on the condition of the pavement beneath him, hadn't thought to allow for the spring rains and the unusual chill in the air that made them dangerous. He missed the stop sign entirely, tires skidding, and shot into the intersection just as the Kents entered it.

She sat, knees neatly together, back straight, hands clasped tidily in her lap. Her hair was brushed, her make-up done, and she was wearing her nicest jeans and favourite sweater.

He was late. He was never late.

Her gaze darted to the clinic’s swivel doors as they began to turn and another figure, darkened against the sunlight streaming in from outside, came through.

Not him.

She looked away quickly so as not to be caught staring, snatched a glance up at the clock behind the reception desk. Nine minutes. He was nine minutes late.

The woman receptionist smiled across at her. “Not like Clark to be late,” she remarked.

She shook her head in agreement.

“I expect he’s stuck in traffic,” the woman suggested pleasantly. Doris, wasn’t it? Doris worked the early morning shift until eleven, then Anne did the afternoons. Steve took over in the evening and worked the late shift.

After two months of living in the clinic, she knew all the staff. Even the cleaners.

But Doris was wrong. Clark didn’t drive; he flew. Or walked. Doris knew that, really - she was just trying to reassure. Even the ancillary staff played their part in caring for the clinic’s patients.

“Nice sweater,” said Doris. “Is it new?”

She nodded. Clark had bought it for her. She’d mentioned in passing that she didn’t have any warm clothes, and the very next day, he’d brought her the sweater. She’d felt guilty, hadn’t meant to hint that she wanted anything from him, but he’d brushed her worries aside with a smile and told her to try it on. It had fit beautifully, and instantly, it had become a firm favourite.

Lois Lane wandered over to her husband's desk with a pensive look
on her face. Clark Kent, looking up and seeing Lois deep in worried
thought, seized her and pulled her into his lap. Before she could
do more than yelp, he planted a warm, reassuring kiss on her lips,
to which she readily responded.

At one time, this action might have elicited some wolf-whistles and
cat-calls from their co-workers, but by now they were all used to
Lane and Kent acting like a couple of teenagers at a drive-in.

As they broke, Clark gave Lois one of his smiles. "There, does that
make whatever it is that is troubling you better?"

She giggled briefly. "Well, it certainly doesn't hurt, but...." Her
voice took on a more serious tone. "I'm worried about Jimmy."

Clark awoke from sleep with a start. Images were flashing through his brain. An attractive, young woman with short, dark hair; she was in trouble. He wasn't really sure who she was and yet he seemed to know her at the same time, like you knew an old friend. Her mouth formed the words, "Help me, Superman." Then there were more images; flashes of a house that he'd never been in, and yet it seemed so familiar to him, like he'd lived there before. Again, more images of the woman. Her smile, her eyes, they looked so loving, so warm and inviting. And then the vision was gone.

Geez! What a day! First it was car trouble, then her
source had decided he hadn't exactly seen what he thought he'd
seen, then Perry had refused to run her story (even though she
was sure she could get corroboration by press time), the
photos she'd been counting on for another story had mostly
turned out blurry, and on, and on, and on. Why am I a
reporter anyway? I must be out of my mind! Nothing but
aggravation ...

H. G. Wells stepped out of his Time Machine and looked down at his black
suit covered in dust. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and began
to wipe himself free of the brownish red dirt. He walked through the
solarium which housed his Time Machine and into the main house. He was
very excited about documenting his latest time travel to the past. A smile
lingered on his lips as he moved into the library and walked over to his
desk. He was always eager to capture on paper the events at his journey's
end and now was no exception. He sat in his chair and unlocked the middle
drawer. Taking out a black journal, he lovingly thumbed through the pages
and mumbled words of approval to himself until he came to a blank page.
Picking up his pencil he began...

Clark rolled over, still half asleep and put his arm around his wife. He loved snuggling with her while still in the netherworld somewhere between awake and asleep. He heard a small groan as she nestled back against his chest. Her hair was suddenly in the way, getting in his mouth as he yawned. It had never done that before.

He opened his eyes and looked at the woman lying next to him. Sure enough, her hair was longer than he remembered Lois' being, but she had mentioned a couple of weeks ago that she was growing it out again. Maybe it had gotten longer than he realized.

It took a second, but it was beginning to dawn on him that something just wasn't *right*. He looked around and didn't recognize any of the furniture in the room.

The door opened and suddenly there was a small child running towards the bed.

"DADDY! MOMMY! Time to get up! Today's my birthday!" The little boy jumped on the bed. "Get up! Get up!"

Clark sat up trying to comprehend what was happening to him.

The dark headed child jumped into his arms. "It's my birthday, Daddy!"

"Um, I heard. How old are you now?"

"I'm five! And next week I start kindergarten!"

"Wow." Clark didn't understand what was happening - as badly as he wanted children, he certainly didn't have any yet, much less a five-year-old - but he decided that he better play along until he found out more about what was going on.

"Mommy! Mommy! Wake up!"

"I'm up. I'm up." The woman next to him rolled over. "Come here and give your mom a hug, CJ."

Clark looked at the woman next to him, unable to believe what his eyes and ears were telling him. The woman next to him wasn't Lois.

It was Lucy.

"Oh! Oh! Hold that...door...open."

Lois didn't actually expect anyone on the elevator to grant her request. It was all the way across the food court she was standing in, and unless someone on there happened to be a lip reader or was fluent in the language of Lois-Lane-arm-waving, there was no way anyone would know she was even making one. So she was surprised to see the doors slide back open when they'd been just inches from sealing shut.

Lois snatched her Chinese take-out off the counter before she rushed across the mall's food court to eye the elevator's sole passenger suspiciously. He was staring at her, looking a little stunned, but holding on to that Doors Open button like it was the most important task of his life. That alone was enough to make her nervous. Why in the world would this guy wait for her to walk all the way across the food court unless he *really* wanted to be alone in that tiny space with her?

"I hate it when I get kidnapped," Lois announced to
her cell-mates. This was actually not true; after spending a
sedate year on the campaign trail, she was enjoying the
excitement. Clark was right there with her, after all, even if he
did have to be careful. Their Secret Service agent, Keith
Jackson, had been grabbed along with them, and his presence
slowed things down somewhat.
"You do not," Clark contradicted her amiably. He
wasn't particularly thrilled to be in this situation, but the mild
tonic of danger was making Lois sparkle, and he did so love it
when she sparkled.
She grinned, earning and ignoring a quizzical look
from Keith. "Well, it doesn't matter; Superman will get us out
pretty soon." Just as soon as one of them figured out how to
do it without rousing Keith's suspicions, that is...
Keith had had the worst of the short fight when they'd
been kidnapped. He could feel a bruise starting to spread on
his cheek, but with his dark coloring, he suspected the others
hadn't noticed it yet. He fully expected to lose his job over this
fiasco, but the most important thing was to get the civilians out
of here, and he intended to do his best. "We need to try to
escape on our own, and not count on Superman. I mean,
where was he an hour ago, when we were grabbed?"
Nettled, Clark stood. "Well, I guess he thought he
could relax, since the Secret Service was on the case."

Lois perched on the edge of her sofa, staring blankly at the video cassette sitting in the dead center of her coffee table. It looked harmless enough, yet she was terrified to touch it. Just gathering the strength to remove it from the box that Perry had thrust into her reluctant hands nearly two weeks ago had drained her. Now, feeling as leaden inside as the gray sweatshirt she'd not bothered to change in three days, she sighed. Making the decision to collect it from the box was one thing. Actually going through with viewing it was another.

The tape called to her, beckoning with the promise of a reprieve from reality. Like a cocaine addict licking the microscopic residue from an empty plastic bag, she had willed herself from her bed and stumbled through her darkened apartment searching for a fix, the need to see his face so
powerful that it ripped through the haze clouding her mind. Perhaps for a few minutes, she could forget that he was gone and never again would she see his eyes or smile save the few snapshots she possessed, none of which came close to doing him justice. Like images of the Grand Canyon, a brilliant sunset, or the sparkling turquoise Caribbean, Kodak was incapable of capturing the very essence of the man she had known. She needed to see him move, to see him breathe and speak.

He shifted on the hard wooden chair, looked around the sparsely furnished room and quietly rattled off the names of the items.

"Chair... table... mirror..."

The swell of frustration caused the knot in his stomach to coil tighter and his hands to clench on the grimy tabletop. He *knew* what a chair was...

He knew so much, but at the same time... he didn't. He just didn't know. He couldn't remember the important things, and it frustrated him. He glared at the chair on the other side of the small table and ran an agitated hand through his hair.

Why didn't he know who he was?

He *should* know who he was. After all, that wasn't something you were supposed to forget. It wasn't like he'd misplaced his keys or forgotten to turn the oven off...

His eyes darted around the room, the oppressive grey walls looming over him. The chair scraped backwards as he stood quickly and strode over to the mirror on the opposite wall. Five full strides. Just like the time before, and the time before that. The walls weren't closing in on him. He wondered again if he might be claustrophobic...

He sucked in a deep breath. He was fine. Really.

He was just locked in a crumbling interrogation room at the Metropolis Police Department and he had no idea who he was.

Yeah, he was fine.

"Darn it, Clark!" Lois ran a hand through her hair. "It's like the dratted thing is hiding from me!"

"It's not alive," Clark pointed out. "It can't do anything by itself. You've just laid it down somewhere and don't remember where."

"No way," Lois said. "I remember crossing the room and laying it down somewhere perfectly obvious. I didn't put it under something, or stick it in a drawer, or anything, but now it's gone! The darned thing is deliberately hiding from me."

"*Urr-rr-rr-rp!*"

"Good girl!" Clark Kent said to his baby daughter after she came
out with a monumental burp. The little girl looked rather startled
for a moment, as though she wasn't quite sure *where* that noise
could have come from, but forgot about it and gurgled delightedly
at her father as he lifted her into the air over his head.

Clark, for his part, was feeling quietly satisfied -- as well as
being equally delighted just to be playing with his very special
girl. Burping Laura sounded like something that ought to be very
easy, but there was a knack to it, and Clark thought he had it
-- and Laura agreed, if that massive belch was any indication.

The smile which seemed to be a semi-permanent fixture on his face
these days -- or at least whenever he was able to spend some time
with his family -- broadened as he remembered how he'd been
introduced to the fine art of baby-burping. His mother had once
said that he'd been a remarkably healthy baby -- no problems with
colic or anything like that -- and he'd gathered from passing
remarks by Ellen Lane that Lois had been much the same, but that
was no reason to be complacent.

The view by the lake was beautiful. Completely unspoilt, with
nothing but pine-trees and water so far as the eye could see. The
sun beating down and causing ripples of light to dance on top of
the water. A couple of Canada geese playing close to the water's
edge. To the right, a white-tipped rocky waterfall where the
river emptied into the lake. If Paradise existed, it would be
here, Lois was sure: on this stretch of the north-eastern shore
of Lake Superior.

And yet she was restless. Dissatisfied.

Unhappy.

Yet she was the last person in the world who had a right to be
dissatisfied with her life. She had it all. Married to the third-
richest man in the world. Three mansions, four penthouse
apartments and two beach-houses, including this one, at her
disposal. Servants at her beck and call. Any number of platinum
credit cards. A bank balance amounting to so many digits she
couldn't possibly keep track of it. A private plane or helicopter
to take her anywhere she wanted to go. A top-of-the-range
Mercedes SLK convertible for summer, and an equally top-of-the-
range Mercedes SUV for winter.

Nothing was too good for Mrs Lex Luthor.

She was going to die. She knew that, and it made her angry.

She stumbled, nearly losing her balance, as the men on either
side dragged her along the long, narrow corridor. The leather
hood over her head was suffocatingly hot, and the smell of it
nearly made her retch. She was certain that other unfortunate
individuals who'd been forced to wear this hood before her had
done just that.

She'd committed the cardinal sin of all reporters. She'd become
part of the story. She'd allowed her own disgust and indignation
over the situation here to color her articles. Her reports had
contained more than just the facts. In an effort to more vividly
convey the horror she had witnessed, she had allowed herself to
editorialize.

The old woman stepped out of the hazy shadows of Metropolis Park, walking as briskly as her ninety year old body would permit toward the traffic lights at the intersection on the southeast corner. The slowness of age had led her to a new appreciation of the order and safety provided by the stoplights which, in her youth, she had mostly ignored. Jaywalking was a sport for those more adept at dodging oncoming traffic than she now was. And there was such a lot of traffic, even at this early time of day, just before sunrise. More traffic than she remembered, she thought, as she glowered at a passing taxi which ran the light just as she stepped into the crosswalk. Muttering to herself, she retreated a few paces to avoid being hit. She had forgotten that crossing the road was a survival skill in Metropolis.

Lois Lane stared out of the window of the 727 winging its way
across the United States: destination Metropolis. In the
distance, the cotton candy clouds appeared to hang in the sky by
strings, it wasn't evident that the plane was moving by their
standards; but by judging the speed against the feathery
confections that were brushing the plane wings, time was not
standing still in the sky. She took a deep breath and tried to
relax but her misgivings increased by the mile in anticipation
of the plane finally landing.

The decision to return to the large city had not been easy, the
prospect of starting over unsettled her, but Metropolis was in
her blood. Even more so than the action packed city, journalism
was in her soul; working briefly at a small paper on the West
Coast didn't compare to the way she felt while working at the
Metropolis Star. She tried to separate the two, but it took her
four long months to finally sort out that it wasn't journalism
unless she was working in Metropolis.

Now she was heading to her heart's home. She didn't know who her
friends were anymore, or where she'd work or live, but she
couldn't let him win, not again. It was time to find her niche
again in the newspaper business, this time fighting twice as
hard as before.

"Will the defendant please rise?"

Lois trembled as she forced herself to her feet.

"Lois Lane, the people of Metropolis have found you... guilty of
murder in the first degree."

The entire room became a whirl of colors as she fought to remain
standing. Through the fog in which she was engulfed, Lois could
hear startled gasps of disbelief. Then the noise of the courtroom
was lost in the pounding behind her own eyes.

"Bailiff, take the defendant into custody. This court is
adjourned."

She was barely aware of hands grasping her from behind, placing
handcuffs on and forcing her from the room. It couldn't be. This
was a dream - a nightmare. Any moment she was going to wake up.
The judge hadn't really pronounced her guilty. And yet
everyone... even Perry... even Perry had turned on her in the
end.

She glanced over her shoulder as she was escorted none-too-gently
through the doors at the side of the room, looking back into the
courtroom for a friendly face but found none. No one was there
for her. When it really mattered... Not even her mother and
father had bothered to come.

Doors slammed closed behind her as the light began to fade. It
was over. Everything was over before it really had a chance to
begin.

Perry stared absently at the television screen, lost in thought
as he watched District Attorney Clemmons give a press conference
on the screen in front of him.

"...the tragic fact that Ms. Lane was one of our leading citizens
is only further proof that in Metropolis, no one is above the
law. I believe the sentence of death is wholly fitting. The crime
itself, caught on video tape, the motive, established by the
shocking testimony of Perry White, Editor of the..."

"Turn that noise off!" Perry shot back, sending one staffer
scrambling to turn the television off while the rest headed back
to their assigned desks.

Still, Perry stood, staring blankly at the dark television
screen. He hadn't testified. He really hadn't. And he'd called in
every favor he could, trying to persuade someone, anyone to get
involved. He'd gone all the way up to the governor of New Troy.
But no one was willing to help. No one. 'It would be political
suicide' Perry had been informed more than once.

Making his way back into his office, he sank into the chair
behind his desk, lost in a feeling of hopelessness. Lois Lane...
his Lois Lane... the woman who was like a daughter to him, whom
he had known since she was a journalism student hustling her
first summer job to the remarkable reporter he knew today, had
been sentenced to death. And he, it seemed, was powerless to stop
it.

No. He was not going to think like that. He would find someone
who would listen. He would make someone understand and intervene.

Lois lifted the lid of the machine. The light on the front was
glowing a steady green. She raised the eye-dropper and carefully
dripped three drops of liquid onto the pad on the top of the
machine. They vanished at once. Lois put the dropper back into
the beaker and closed the lid.

The light flickered and winked to amber.

Lois's heart gave a sideways leap, then settled into a new,
faster rhythm. She stared at the light blankly for a few
moments, then an odd, strained smile crept onto her face.

She turned away and began to dress.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clark was having difficulty concentrating. He was supposed to be
finishing his account of the Trevino trial for the Saturday
morning edition, but as he studied his computer screen he could
see Lois out of the corner of his eye.

And Lois had been behaving oddly all day.

She'd been brusque almost to the point of rudeness when she'd
arrived at work this morning, which wasn't unusual - Lois's
temper was becoming a byword in the newsroom, and sometimes there
were lines of strain on her face that made Clark wonder if she
was ill, but nobody dared ask after her health these days. Clark
had resigned himself to this being one of the more difficult
days, and continued reading his email... and then, five minutes
later, she'd brought him a cup of coffee and a doughnut, which
was almost unheard of. He could almost swear she'd been blushing
when he'd looked up in surprise to thank her. She'd leant
against his desk for a few minutes and asked him about his plans
for the day, which had simply consisted of attending the trial
and then coming back to the Planet to write it up; then she'd
bustled back to her desk and ignored him till he'd left.

Now she was sitting in front of her computer screen, pretending
to work but in reality fiddling with all the various objects on
her desk in turn and shooting him surreptitious glances every few
minutes. He had no idea what could be on her mind. He'd
developed the habit of walking her home in the evenings after
work lately, even though the threat to her life had ended with
Barbara Trevino's arrest; but it was only a quarter to five, and
Lois never left work before six at the very earliest.

Still, five was his deadline for this piece, and he needed to
forget about Lois long enough to finish it up. Pretending to be
bothered by the glare on his screen, Clark shifted his monitor
and chair until Lois was no longer in his field of vision, and
set to work.

He knew that he should be doing anything else but the thing that he was doing. He should be anywhere else on earth but where he was, which was outside of Lois Lane's apartment window, watching her silently and trying to work up the courage to make his presence known. Surely someone somewhere needed him worse than she did - needed him in that life-or-death way that was both the blessing and the curse of his entire existence. Often - so often that he was sure it must be a statistical impossibility - she *did* need him like that, needed him to save her from whatever feat of brilliant-stupid-reckless-daring she was attempting in pursuit of the almighty story. How many times had she put her life on the line for a few columns of ink that had long since been tossed in the trash? He'd lost count now. And he knew there was more to it than that, for he, too, was a journalist through and through, but no story had ever been worth the life of Lois Lane. No story ever could be. Since he couldn't seem to convince her of that, however, he had simply stayed close and listened for her call, and when she called, he had always come, in one guise or another.

It was a simple enough arrangement, and until recently it had formed the foundation of his life in Metropolis. Now, however, the foundation was eroding, his whole life crumbling more quickly than he would have believed possible, even knowing the power of Lex Luthor was behind it. There was no longer a Daily Planet, no longer a Lane and Kent. Perry was heading for Florida, of all places, to work on his tan; and Jack was in jail for a crime Clark was sure he hadn't committed.

And Lois...Lois didn't love him.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise to him, let alone made him feel as though he'd been punched in the gut and didn't know where to find his next breath. She'd made herself perfectly clear on the subject from the very beginning; it was only his own foolish, hopeful heart that had allowed him to believe that maybe, just maybe, his love for her wasn't a wasted emotion. She'd put paid to that, however, kindly but decisively, and then she'd undone all the attempts at kindness by asking for Superman. He'd known her to be thoughtless before, but he'd never suspected her capable of such cruelty.

He should just leave...really he should. He should be anywhere, answering anyone else's call. It never worked that way, though. It never had. The whole world could be shouting for him, and he would somehow hear Lois Lane's slightest whisper and rush to her side, even if it were just to offer himself up for another round of her special brand of torture. So here he was, staring into her window like a voyeur as he tried desperately to gird himself for the coming conversation.

She was in her living room, wearing a satiny blue nightgown that hugged her slim form and dipped low enough to make his heart pound and his groin tighten. She would probably be shocked to know that he was capable of such a typically male response. To Lois, Superman was far too noble for such base reactions, and Clark was the safe friend, practically asexual in his comfortable dependability. How he wished just then that either was true. But no, he was neither noble nor asexual, and he'd long since faced the fact that Lois Lane draped in burlap would have the power to stir him; Lois Lane in satin lingerie left him incapable of higher brain function.

Still, the thing for which his body was clamoring was quite clearly not on the night's agenda, so he somehow mustered the willpower it took to drift away from her window and up above the clouds, where he gained control of his more traitorous parts and gave himself a stern reminder of all the reasons she'd given him to be angry with her lately. It seemed to work, too, and when he swooped back to her window, all he would let himself think of was her breaking his heart in one breath and then asking for Superman in the next.

She heard him this time, as he'd meant her to. She jumped up from where she'd been reading, sounding a bit startled as she said his name.

"I heard you wanted to see me," he said, taking care to keep his face blank and his voice neutral.

"Yes," she said, smiling nervously at him. "Please come in. I'll just...put on a robe."

He let his eyes sweep over her blatantly, indulging the impulse just once. "Unless it's lined with lead, Lois, it's a waste of time."

He felt a twinge of guilt when he saw her startled by his crass remark. But then his hurt from earlier in the day made its way back to the fore, and he shook off the guilt and wrapped himself in the pain he was feeling. What a farce this was! Whatever she had to say, he was going to hear it and then get away from her once and for all.

"I guess so," she stammered. "Anyway, I'm just trying to figure out...well, there've been a lot of changes going on in my life and I'm trying to make the right decisions, but I can't until I know...how you feel."

She walked up to him and put her hand lightly on his chest, and he felt like she'd stolen his breath. He shook his head, fighting the urge to step away. "Lois, I do...care for you. But there are things about me you don't know. Things you may never know. Reasons why you and I aren't a good idea."

"It doesn't matter. I know you. And I don't mean you the 'celebrity' or you the 'superhero'. If you had no powers - if you were just an ordinary man leading an ordinary life, I'd love you just the same. Can't you believe that?"

He had to force himself to answer calmly, still desperately wishing for some distance from her. "I wish I could, Lois. But under the circumstances, I don't see how I can."

He saw the tears in her eyes and hardened his heart to them. "I don't understand," she said. "What circumstances? Why won't you believe me?"

Bitterness had lodged itself in his heart like a shard of glass, and suddenly he wanted to return some of the pain and embarrassment she'd dealt him that day. "You're not in love with *me*, Lois," he spat, stepping backwards, moving away from her soft touch, her sweet scent. "You're in love with a role I play when I'm dressed up in a spandex suit my mother made for me. And without the flashy suit, you wouldn't give me a second look."

"That's not true!" she cried. "It's not!"

Without stopping to think about it, he spun into a whirl of color before her astonished eyes, and when he stopped, he stood before her as Clark Kent. "Tell me again that it's not true, Lois," he said softly. He felt a thrill of victory when she backed slowly away from him, her face pale...shocked. He stepped forward, deliberately crowding her. "Tell me you didn't hand me back my heart this afternoon and give me the let's-just-be-good-friends speech."

If you had asked me a couple of weeks ago to tell you who I am, I
could have answered you in a hundred words or less. And that's if
I include my likes and dislikes, else I can do it in half that
amount. Seriously. I'd have told you I'm your typical, run of
the mill, regular teenager. At least, that's who I thought I
was.

As it turns out, a hundred words... would be several tomes short
of the full story. I'm so much more than who I thought I was,
it's almost unimaginable.

You might as well sit down, because this is a long and
complicated tale to tell. Not to mention your knees may go weak
at some point. Once I'm done, I expect you'll want to check my
temperature to see if I'm not feverish and delirious. That's in
the best of cases because it's also quite possible you'll start
screaming and run away as if I had the plague. I'm kind of hoping
you won't do that, but I know better than to have you promise you
won't. Just please believe me when I tell you I haven't gone
completely off my rocker. I still have all my marbles, if you
know what I mean!

There I was, sitting in a chemistry lab at school, waiting in
line to heat the contents of my test tube for an experiment. I
found myself staring at the liquid inside the tube and wishing it
would just start boiling on its own. And that's the odd thing...
it did. It started boiling. Just like that!

That day, I learned that I could turn my vision into a sort of
laser beam. I can literally burn through objects just by staring
at them and concentrating a little bit. To say I was blown away
would be quite an understatement. How many teenagers do you know
of that can do *that*?!

I spent the next couple of days absolutely convinced that I was a
mutant. You have no idea what that's like! I thought my parents
would hate me and that my life was over. I was desperate to find
someone I could talk to who might understand and offer some sort
of guidance. But who can you talk to about being a *mutant*? Not
Mom and Dad for sure, this was going to break their hearts; their
eldest child was a freak! There's no one at school I would ever
consider telling a secret like this, either. So who? Superman
seemed to be the only logical choice. After all, he wouldn't be
afraid of someone like me and I figured on some level he would
probably understand what I was going through, what with him
having super powers and all that. Being different.

Suicide Slum at three in the morning wasn't the place for a
stroll, Clark Kent reflected, grimly. He eyed the open space
before him with acute suspicion. The sight of a man in halfway
decent clothing around here was an open invitation to a
mugging, but what else was he supposed to do? There really
wasn't much choice. He had to find somewhere that he could get
help.

He zipped up his leather jacket against the chilly mist that
rose off the bay and permeated the air, still searching the
darkness. Nothing appeared to be moving except for the shadowy
form of an alley cat that streaked across the broken sidewalk
and vanished between two buildings.

Okay, I know what you're going to say...this is all *my* fault.

Because it couldn't be Clark's fault ... no-oo, certainly not; Clark's Mr. Right ... Mr. *Always* Right!

So it has to be Lois's fault. Quick-tempered, impulsive Lois, who never thinks before she acts and who's always pulling poor, innocent, guileless Clark into her scrapes.

Innocent and guileless! ha! So innocent and guileless that for years he managed to hide from me -- me, his partner, best friend, and *girlfriend* -- the fact that under his business suit is hidden the biggest secret in this world ... maybe even this universe!

So don't talk to me about Clark's innocence!

"Hold the elevator!!"

The grey-suited man who was just stepping aboard turned to see who
was yelling; his alarmed expression on seeing the single-minded woman
rushing towards him appeared to suggest that he would be happier to
pretend he hadn't heard. But this was Lois Lane; one did not pretend
that one had not heard Mad Dog Lane. One just hoped that one did not
become the latest target for her fury... and failing to hold the
elevator for her would be sufficient to unleash her annoyance.

Lois was late for work, not an occurrence she would be overly
troubled about under normal circumstances. But today she had a very
important story to get back to; her source had promised to send her
some highly sensitive documents overnight, and she was keen to ensure
that she - well, okay, the Planet - scooped all the competition.
Again.

She just hoped Kent hadn't intercepted the package. Okay, they were
partners, but this was *her* scoop. Just because Perry had officially
teamed them up as formal partners a little under two months ago
didn't mean that Kent had to be in on every story she wrote. She was
the more experienced reporter, after all. She was the one with the
three Kerth awards. He was the... the hack from nowheresville, the
inexperienced greenhorn with a taste for sappy prose who had somehow
managed to persuade Perry that he was employable.

<That's not fair, Lois> the irritating voice of her conscience
pointed out. It probably wasn't really. Clark might have been
inexperienced, but he was a quick learner. He was good on the sort of
detail she tended to overlook. And he was able to turn on the charm,
which did help when they were interviewing or under cover. For some
reason, some women just seemed to fall for that faux-naive look of
his, that country-boy shy smile. She couldn't quite see the appeal
herself....

<Liar!> her conscience objected; Lois scowled, which caused the other
occupant of the elevator to look even more alarmed. She *wasn't*
lying. Clark was simply not her type. Okay, when she'd been affected
by that horrible pheromone a couple of weeks earlier she'd for some
*completely incomprehensible* reason focused her attention on Clark -
but that had to have been a fluke. A flaw in the formula, perhaps -
after all, hadn't Perry fallen for Rajalia, the cleaner? What could
be more ludicrous than that?

No, Clark Kent was not her type. Her type was... well, someone a
little more ambitious. More outgoing. More... metropolitan in
outlook...

<Like Lex Luthor?>

But she rejected that instantly. Yes, Lex was all of those things,
but she barely knew him and her only real interest in him was that
exclusive interview he kept half-promising but never delivering. Oh,
she was well aware of his interest in her, but she suspected that he
saw her as something of a trophy or a conquest; she had no interest
in being just another notch on the bedpost of the third richest man
in the world. Even if he was suave, charming and sophisticated, as
well as good-looking.

No; her ideal man was... Superman. There was just no question about
it at all; he was handsome, perfectly muscled, intelligent, with
beautiful eyes and a gorgeous smile, and he was a sublime kisser. And
best of all, he could really sweep a girl off her feet - literally.
Oh, what she wouldn't give for a date with Superman...!

And yet, instead, she thought as she exited the elevator on the
newsroom floor, what she was getting was a weekend trip away in the
company of her mother. Oh, and Lucy, and possibly her father as well,
assuming he could drag himself away from his 'clients.' This was
*not* Lois's idea of a fun weekend! But Ellen Lane had insisted, when
she'd called just as Lois was on her way out the door; it would be
her fiftieth birthday in a few days, and she had decided that this
was how she wanted to celebrate it. A family weekend, just the way
things used to be.

<Wake up, Mother!> Lois had wanted to scream down the phone line.
<Things were *never* like that! Even before Dad started having
affairs and you started drinking, we were never a normal family> But
she had restrained herself, knowing that if she said the things she
really wanted to say it would lead to a lengthy argument, and tears
and recriminations from her mother, and she would be even later
getting to work.

So in a few days' time she would be trapped in a cottage up in the
mountains, playing happy families with the most dysfunctional family
in Metropolis. Just great!

"Hmmm... it's a sunny day... a perfect Sunday..."

Clark, standing at the bedroom window, turned his head and glanced at Lois, who sat on her side of their bed, putting on socks. She was freshly showered and dressed in a light cotton shirt and casual slacks - and looking absolutely adorable, Clark thought with a smile.

"Honey, how about a quick visit to Smallville today? It's been a while since we've seen my parents."

Lois looked up, frowning slightly. Now, where were those comfortable loafers? And Clark just said something about...

"Go to Smallville? I don't have time to do that, Clark, I'll be too busy. But you can go." Lois grabbed her shoes and headed determinedly for the bedroom door.

"What do you mean you'll be busy?" With a 'whoosh' Clark intercepted her. "We don't have any work to do. Honey, we agreed this was going to be a nice, relaxing day for both of us, remember?"

"I changed my mind - I'm going to do some cleaning," Lois answered, brushing past him.

Clark followed her down the stairs, a bemused expression on his face. "Honey, are you feeling all right? You never do any cleaning, I do the cleaning around here. Lois, look around you, this kitchen is spotless!" Clark waved his arms about. "The whole house is spotless!"

Lois dropped her shoes on the floor and stepped into them. "Clark, calm down, I know you do an excellent job around the house. I just feel it's time I pulled my weight too, so to speak. Anyway, take these cupboards," she pointed to the cupboards situated above the counter. "I don't even know what's in there! I'm going to take everything out and see for myself!"

Lois stood on tiptoe and reached out one hand to open the cupboard door. "I know there's probably only cereal in there and peanut butter and - "

"Lois?" Clark sat down abruptly and stared at his wife, open-mouthed, while Lois babbled on.

" - I know you keep everything in tip top shape but I do feel guilty sometimes, Clark, I never ever do any housework, let alone cooking, well, that's best left to you, I'll admit, but it's time I - "

"Lois! Shut up!" Clark interrupted her babbling rather forcefully.

Lois, surprised, turned around to look at him - no, down at him? Huh?! Ohmigosh!!!

She'd have crashed down on the floor if Clark hadn't moved swiftly, catching her and gently lowering her to a chair. He then sank down on another chair, facing her.

For what seemed like an eternity they stared at each other, speechless.

Lois was the first to speak. "Clark, what was that?"

"Lois, you... sort of... floated!"

Lois glared at him. "I know! But... how? What did you do? Why did you scare me like that?"

"Honey, I didn't do anything, I swear! I'm just as stunned as you are, believe me." Clark jumped up and started to pace around the kitchen. "Lois, this is - this is - "

" - UltraWoman all over again." Lois chimed in. "But I can't remember us being hit by lightning or a red Kryptonite beam or anything like that!"

"Neither can I. The weather's been fine, I haven't been called away on many emergencies lately and we haven't chased any criminals either. In fact, work has been pretty dull these last couple of weeks. There must be another explanation!"

Clark stopped pacing and sat down again. "My powers haven't been transferred to you, honey, I can still move fast and - " he stared briefly through the wall, " - my vision is perfect. My hearing - " he cocked his head and smiled. " - still very much there. Okay, Lois, stand up, let's see you do it again."

"Just give me one more minute," Lois said, taking a deep breath," my legs are still a bit wobbly."

"Okay, take your time, honey."

But Clark could hardly contain his excitement. He didn't know how it was possible but Lois had levitated. And not only that, she seemed to have developed another personality almost overnight. Clean up the house, indeed! The floating he didn't mind - but a changed personality?

"Okay, I'm ready," Lois's voice cut through his musing. "What do we test first - the floating again, or maybe other superpowers?"

Clark stared at her. Other? She could have other powers too? He jumped up, pulling Lois with him and positioning her in front of the counter. "Try the floating first," he told her, "Just to make sure."

"Okay," Lois tentatively stretched out her right arm and strained to reach the cupboard door. Her feet slowly left the floor as she floated up in the air. She tried to reach the ceiling, but she remained suspended halfway up in the room.

"That's odd... this is as far as I can go!"

Lois looked down at her husband, who was watching her like a hawk, ready to catch her if she lost her balance again. But this time Lois - vividly remembering her shortlived career as UltraWoman - instinctively knew how to conduct herself and began to float gracefully around the kitchen, laughing delightedly.

Now that she knew that Clark hadn't lost his powers to her, Lois began to enjoy herself. "Wheeee!" she giggled, trying a somersault and almost succeeding in knocking down the lamp hanging above the dining table.

"So, Lois, now that you're out of circulation, so to
speak, what's going to happen with Superman?"
Lois stared at her friend Elizabeth in surprise. "What
do you mean?"
"Well, you and Superman used to hang out, you told
me -- uh, something about romantic dinners and flights over
Metropolis--" Lizi gestured airily, "-- and now you've started
dating Clark. So where does that leave Superman?"
"OK, for starters, you've got *one* thing right: I've
just *started* dating Clark, which doesn't mean I'm necessarily
out of circulation. Yet. And as far as Superman goes, well,
we haven't really talked about it, but I think he knows about
Clark and me, and he has a lot of respect for Clark -- he hasn't
been hanging around trying to steal me back."
"Unlike that Scardetto person, who wouldn't take no
for an answer."
"His name was Scardino, Dan Scardino, and he was
very sweet..."
"Uh-huh, and he almost screwed things up for you
and Clark."
Lois smiled a little grimly -- she really didn't want to
talk about Dan Scardino. "You were talking about
Superman..?"
"Yes. I was. Um.. So, um, well.. Is he.. um.. you
know.."
"Is he..? What, Lizi? Spit it out -- I can't read your
mind!"
"Is he.. seeing.. somebody.. anybody.. these days?"
Lois' eyes had a dangerous twinkle as she swiveled
her head to look at her friend. "Why? Are you interested?
"Hel-lo? This is me, remember? Lizi 'Crazy-About-
Men' Lyons? Of course I'm interested! Why don't you fix me
up with him? Isn't that what married friends are for, to fix up
their single friends?"
"I'm *not* married -- I just started dating the guy,
remember?"
"Still, you got a man -- and what a man, if you don't
mind my saying so --"
Lois grinned, partially appeased.
" -- so get off your duff and help *me* get one, too!"
"And you want Superman."
"Hey, aim for the stars, right?"
Lois took a long sip of her Coke, considering. She
had always hated having her married friends trying to fix her
up, but maybe that was because the men they fixed her up with
were all such losers. /Well, obviously Superman is not a loser,
and neither is Lizi, and if she *wants* me to fix her up with
him.../

He was doing it again.


For at least the sixth time since the meeting started Clark was chewing on the end of his pencil and it was driving her crazy. Actually there were a lot of things about Clark that drove her crazy. He was a singularly annoying person. He was like Dudley Do-Right without the horse, constantly clouding any angle on a story with his over-simplified views of right and wrong. Maybe he was smarter than Dudley, but not by much. Clark was one of those athletic guys with great shoulders and a small mind. She definitely knew the type.


All right, fine. So he didn't actually have a small mind. He was just bordering on unimaginative - never a good quality in a reporter. He was definitely nothing like Superman. And she didn't mean the superpowers. She meant charisma and force of personality. Like practically every man she knew, Clark Kent didn't seem to have either of those qualities going for him. When was the last time Clark had swept a woman off her feet?

Lois Lane exited the bathroom, hanging her bathrobe on the doorhook and turning triumphantly to her husband. Clark Kent was already in bed for the night, albeit with his laptop computer perched on his crossed legs. He looked up from his typing as she emerged.

"This is it!" she announced, holding up a colorful box in her hand.

"This is what?"

"According to the test I took this morning, I am about to ovulate."

Clark shut off the laptop and put it aside. "Uh, congratulations, honey, but we still don't know if I ..."

Lois climbed on the bed next to him, putting her finger over his mouth. "Shh, we agreed not to think -- just to do, remember?" she whispered seductively.

Clark smiled as he slipped the thin strap of her lacy negligee down her shoulder and feathered a butterfly kiss against her exposed skin. "I remember ... I definitely remember."

Lois peeked at the turkey through the oven door. So far
everything seemed okay. You never could tell, though.
Sometimes the things she cooked *looked* edible, but turned
out to be anything but. Not that it really mattered,
because she was the only one who would taste it.

She had invited a whole slew of people over for Christmas
Eve dinner, and not one of them had been able to make it.
Perry was reuniting with Alice, Jimmy had romantic plans
with Angela, Superman was off being super, and
Clark...Clark was home visiting his folks in Smallville.
At least Clark had sounded like he wished he could be
there. Her family hadn't even bothered to pretend to care.

She took a sip of her wine and wandered into the living
room, smoothing her free hand over her gown. She felt a
little silly all dressed up with no one to see her, but she
had bought a new dress, and there was no sense in letting
it go to waste.

Christmas carols wafted quietly from the speakers of her
stereo, and for a moment she felt very wistful. Everyone
else had someone to spend Christmas with. Why was she
alone?

"No matter what happens, I will never lose Clark."

Perry White was less certain about that than when he had first said it to Lois a few days earlier. It had been pretty obvious to him, right from the beginning that Clark Kent had fallen harder than a fighter with a glass jaw for Lois Lane; but, tonight, that sure looked like yesterday's news. As he spotted his number two reporter across the crowded dance floor of the pavilion which had just been set up in Centennial Park for the joint CostMart-Daily Planet charity ball, the editor of the Daily Planet thought it was mighty hard to tell where Clark Kent began and Mayson Drake ended.

Lois stepped out into the darkness of the hallway and
winced as the bedroom door clicked to a close at her back,
seeming overly loud in the calm silence of the slumbering
farmhouse.

She stood for a moment, breathing heavily as though in the
midst of some clandestine burglary, waiting to be
discovered. But nothing stirred, the silence was unbroken,
the darkness continued to press against her.

She peered over the banister and down into the living room,
trying to adjust to the blackness taking shape around her.
She had never realized until now just how dark it was in
the heart of the country. Here, there were no streetlights
to illuminate the room through its large windows on her
right. No buildings across the way to shed a faint ray of
light to guide her steps. It had been a warm, muggy night,
so there'd been no need to light the fire in the mock
Georgian fireplace. There were only the blackness and the
shadows. Deep and somnambulant and somber. Weighted and
old. Like everything it seemed, in this alien territory
that scared the hell out of her.
Why had she let herself be persuaded to come down here
anyway?

She knew why. Because Perry had snow-blinded her.
Although...she mused reluctantly as she gingerly made her
way to the foot of the staircase, wincing at the
inadvertent creak of a loose step halfway down, and paused
again to take new bearings...it did seem that her partner
*could* have been right and there was a story here after
all. Maybe.

It's tough finding a good place to hide -- especially one from where
you can watch, plan, wait for an opportunity to strike. To make
things right... to get even. Justice and revenge.

It's even harder when you don't have any resources, any contacts,
money, a home. When you're not sure if you're being watched as you
scramble in the chaos to escape a city ripped apart by corruption and
civil war. The only contacts she'd had were also her partner's, and
she wasn't sure if she could trust him not to betray her once again.
Finally, long after he'd made his own comfortable departure, she too
had got out.

Then the earth had exploded in front of the van in which she'd fled,
and she and the boy were alone. Was there any hope of rescue?
Wouldn't her disappearance be big news? At least for a few days,
until the next big scandal or crisis?

As she had twisted out from the jagged wreckage of the van, willing
all her reserve strength to drive her body through sharp, twisted
metal and the shattered shards of the rear passenger window, she
hadn't thought of any of that. She'd just wanted to survive. A
quick glance at the van's interior, at the blood and the gaping
flesh, told her that her companions had not been as lucky. Except
the boy. Reaching in, she struggled to pull him to safety, smelling
the fumes as she did, aware of the danger of the gas tank blowing.
Instinctively they'd both started to run, racing against the
brilliant flash of fire which engulfed the wreckage as the van blew
up. Horrified and gasping for air, they stood silently watching the
flame, hypnotized by its ferocity.