Apologies for the long lag between posts, y'all. I had some kinks I wanted to work out of this post before I put it up, and real life has been such that I am just now finding the time to do that. Part one can be found here .

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Jimmy was waiting to meet Lois at the airport. He put her suitcase in the trunk of Perry's car, specially loaned for this errand, and was reaching for her laptop when she was jostled roughly from behind. "Hey, watch it, you cretin!" she shouted at the retreating figure of the man who had bumped her -- and almost caused her to drop her precious computer! "Honestly, some people are so rude!" She put the computer safely into the trunk.

"You're one talk, miss. You’re the woman who insisted on taking the last standby seat, even though somebody else needed it to attend a family funeral."

Lois spun around to find herself face to face with one of the women who had been on her flight. "I don't see that it's any of your business. Come on, Jimmy."

They drove in silence for a few minutes before Jimmy ventured, "Did you really refuse to give the seat to a man who needed to get to a funeral?"

"Oh, please, Jimmy. I can spot a sob-story when I see one. He just wanted to get on the flight."

"But what if he really--"

"Then he could take another flight! It's not like there weren't others! I beat him to the counter by five whole minutes!"

There was another pause, during which Lois could feel the younger man's disapproval. She steeled herself. What did she care what the office junior thought of her? You do care. No, she didn't. She was on track for a Pulitzer, and she didn't have time to care what people thought while she went after it. Yes, you do. No, she didn't!

"The Chief's really worked up about this story of yours, Lois. He won't tell anybody what it's about."

"Good for him," she replied curtly.

"Um, yeah,..." he paused again. "So how's Clark doing?"

"He's fine."

"Well, um, how did you like Smallville?"

"It was fine."

"Oh. Well, that's good."

They didn't say anything else for the rest of the ride back to her apartment. Jimmy didn't stay long once they'd gotten there. He merely carried her suitcase to her front door and said that he'd let Perry know she was here. Then he was gone, his apathetic goodbye doing little to hide his eagerness to return to the office. She unlocked her door and told herself again that she didn't care what Jimmy, or anyone else, for that matter, thought. Especially not now, when she had some serious breaking and entering to do!

***************

The local diner was almost empty, partly because of the hour, and partly because most people would be eating at the corn festival this week. Clark had his pick of tables, so he chose one by the window that would afford him both sunlight and a chance to watch the crowd go by. There was such a simple pleasure to life in Smallville... the little things he didn't find in the daily hubbub of Metropolis. Sometimes he really missed being here every day.

He pulled his legal pad out of his messenger bag and started flipping through his notes. He'd spent four hours in City Hall that morning, and he'd discovered that in twenty years, there had been no permits or citations on the Irig farm. Nothing that would attract the attention of the federal government. As he turned the page, he accidentally sliced his index finger open on the sharp edge of the paper. He stared in surprise as blood began to ooze from the thin laceration. A paper cut. He'd never had one of those before. He thought back to what his friends had done whenever they'd gotten paper cuts; hadn't they just sucked on it until it stopped bleeding?

A voice interrupted his deliberations. "Well, Clark Kent! Your mom said you were here for the Daily Planet. Where's your lovely partner?"

"Hello, Maisie," he said, smiling as he stood up to greet her. She put a glass of ice water on his table before turning to hug him fiercely. "How's your granddaughter doing?"

"Growin' like a weed and gettin' more beautiful every day. I've got some pictures in my wallet - you'll just need to give me a second to grab them, right after I get the Pattersons their apple cobbler -- but you really should drop by the house while you're here. Sally's visitin' for the festival, so you can see for yourself!"

Clark grinned. "I sure will, Maisie. I don't think I've seen Sally since I left for college."

She swatted him gently on the shoulder. "Maybe if you weren't so busy runnin' 'round the world..."

"I promise I'll come by, Maisie," he said, understanding such a promise was all she wanted to hear. And he would, just as soon as he had gotten to the problem of the green rock mystery.

"Wonderful. Now what can I get you, honey?"

He ordered quickly, settled back into his seat, and was re-engrossed in his notes within moments... and within moments his cell phone rang, breaking into the sense he was trying to make of all the facts before him. So unexpected was the sound that Clark knocked his glass onto his lap as he fumbled for the phone, which he almost dropped from shock when the icy water hit him.

"Hello, this is Clark Kent."

"Clark?"

"Wayne? Where are you?" Clark asked in surprise.

"I think I'm just outside Salt Lake City."

"Salt Lake City?!"

There was a short pause. "I just got in my Winnebago and decided to go visit my sister. Been on the road so long, hardly know where I am."

The older man's voice sounded haggard, and Clark did not need Lois's trademark cynicism to immediately suspect something was not right. "Wayne, can you give me a number where I can call you back?"

Again, there was a pause. "Can't see one here. I'm at a truck stop."

"What did the EPA guys tell you about the work they're doing on your property?" Clark asked.

"Just that they needed to do some digging."

Clark's superpowers might have disappeared, but his reporter's instinct was screaming. "Wayne, is everything okay?"

"There's no problem," Irig said hastily. "Looks like somebody else needs this phone now. Goodbye, Clark."

"Wayne, wait!" Clark cried, but the other man had already hung up. He checked the caller ID on his cell phone, but the last incoming number showed up as out of range, which was to be expected for a pay phone at a truck stop. On the other hand, it would also be on par for a government phone. And just why had Wayne Irig decided to call him, Clark Kent, on his way to sister's? How did he even know Clark was in Smallville?

All signs were pointing towards Wayne's still being in Smallville somewhere. Not a hotel, though. Every room would have been booked for the corn festival, and from what his parents said, Wayne hadn't expected the government's arrival.

Perhaps it was time for him to call in the cavalry. If there was anything to be known in Smallville, Maisie and her bridge club would not only know it, they would be tripping over themselves to share if he asked nicely. So when Maisie came to refill his iced tea, he casually asked her if she had visited Wayne Irig recently.

"Oh, honey, I haven't seen hide nor hair of that man since the government folks stormed in on his property. Goodness knows what he's doing. You know how shy he is; he hates crowds. He's probably holed up in the spare room, eating canned food, waiting for everyone to leave."

"I really wanted to see him while I was here."

"I'd expect your parents would know better than anyone, honey. Your father's his best friend, and they've been neighbors for years."

Clark nodded. He would have to be careful about this. "I know, Maisie, but they've both been so busy with the farm, and it's a little hard to get on the Irig property these days. I tried myself this morning."

He'd said too much. He could see Maisie's eyes brighten eagerly. "Well now, and that's why you want to know about Wayne, isn't it? They wouldn't let you in?"

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, he supposed. "No, they wouldn't," he admitted sheepishly. "I just want to make sure Wayne's all right."

"I'm sure he's fine, honey. You know Wayne. He always could take care of himself." Maisie patted his hand fondly and refilled his coffee cup. "It's sweet of you to think about him."

"Thanks, Maisie," Clark replied. "You'll let me know if you hear anything?"

Of course she would. Now could she interest him in some dessert? She’d made a lovely raspberry-apple pie that morning.

***************

Within half an hour, Lois was inside Superman's apartment. There had been no breaking and entering about it -- just entering, since he'd left the spare key under the mat as usual. Obviously, Superman didn't need to care about security as much as the average person. She walked around the apartment, seeing it differently this time. Superman lived here. Superman, the greatest hero in the world, lived here, drank coffee here, watched TV here. The idea of Superman watching TV threw her off-balance a little.

Get a grip, Lois! she commanded herself sternly. You're here to do a job! Squaring her shoulders, she went into Superman's bedroom to get some solid evidence for Perry.

Hours later, she still hadn't found anything, and she was beginning to get annoyed. Superman must at least have some spare costumes -- she'd seen his cape get singed several times, but whenever he showed up again, it looked brand new. Frustrated, she reopened his closet and rifled through his clothes for the umpteenth time that evening. They just had to be here somewhere. She smacked the offending closet. How dare it protect Superman's secrets from her!

Perhaps the blow did the trick because just then a back panel slid open and she found herself staring at several Superman suits. "Yes!" she crowed in delight, taking pictures rapidly. When she'd gotten a dozen shots, she took a mental step backwards to reappraise the situation. Perry would say the pictures weren't enough. He'd want something more solid.... like a picture of Clark doing super-stuff. Why hadn't she had the foresight to take pictures in Smallville? She could wait until he came back and take a picture of him... except that he might not come back tonight. He was, after all, with his parents in Smallville. But surely he wouldn't leave Metropolis unprotected? There was no harm in waiting for a little bit, she decided, and moved to take a seat on the comfortable sofa. No, not there... he'd see her, and then he wouldn't do "Clark" where she could take a few pictures. Wouldn't he be able to find her anywhere she hid? He was Superman, after all. She plopped down on the sofa, exasperated with the problem. If she didn't want to risk him catching her, what else could she use as evidence?

She scanned the room around her. It was tastefully decorated and aggravatingly perfect. Nothing was out of place. She forced herself to think about her problem from Superman's perspective. He didn't want anyone to know he was Superman, so would he even leave evidence lying around? If he did have something along those lines, it definitely wouldn't be obvious. She walked over to his desk and flipped through his files again. She rummaged through the drawers of his desk, and even tried to access his computer, which unfortunately had a password she couldn't break. "Now he gets cryptic," she thought sarcastically, remembering that he used "Smallville" as his password at work.

As she moved to turn off the computer, her hand brushed up against Superman's day planner. Now there was an interesting idea. She hadn't looked through that yet. She opened it to the week before and read over the entries. Metropolois Children's Hospital, 7:00 p.m. on Wednesday. Brookview Orphanage, 10 a.m. Saturday. What would Clark be doing at those places? And this entry -- Veterans' Charity Ball -- Superman had been there, and "Clark" hadn't! She'd covered it for the Planet! Perry had wanted Clark too, but he'd begged off, saying he had a prior obligation for that night. It was the one time Perry had let him go without comment.

She looked up from the planner suddenly. Did Perry...? Could he possibly have already...? No, that was preposterous. Perry wouldn't have sat on a story like this! Dismissing the idea from her head with a laugh, she went back to her perusal of Superman's day planner. Dinner with Mom and Dad, Wednesday, 8 p.m. She grinned. "Clark" just happened to have Superman's daily schedule, and he regularly went to his parents' house -- in Smallville! -- for dinner. Oh, perhaps he could say Superman gave him a lift to Smallville, but that still didn't explain why he had Superman's schedule in his day planner. Not to mention that he was the only person around who knew how to contact Superman, he was considered Superman's best friend, and yet, nobody had ever seen the two of them together. That, with the suits hidden in his apartments, should really be enough.

She slipped the day planner into her handbag. Perry would want a high-powered camera to take photos of it for the morning edition. Superman didn't have anything written down for the next couple of days, probably because he expected to be in Smallville with her, so she felt pretty safe taking it out of his apartment. She gathered up her things, locked the door behind her, and slipped the key back under the mat. With any luck, Superman would never know she was there until the story was already in print. Now to go home and update her story!

***************

Clark could smell the chicken frying as he and his father came back into the house after doing the evening chores. To him, there were few things as aromatic as his mother’s buttermilk fried chicken. It smelled of warmth, comfort, and safety; after the day he’d had, he was grateful to be coming home to all three.

He’d exhausted every available lead regarding Wayne’s whereabouts and what the EPA might possibly be doing on the Irig farm. Nobody in town was able to tell him anything, which in itself was highly unusual. To top it off, not only had he not made any progress on his green rock investigation either, he also didn’t have any of his powers back.

And he missed Lois.

That was probably the source of his blue mood. He’d hit roadblocks with stories before, but this was the first time in a while that he’d done that without Lois around to help him figure it all out. Plus, he just missed her -– the essence of her.

Well. If he couldn’t have Lois help him with this story, he might as well start thinking like her. After all, the Clark Kent approach to investigative journalism wasn’t taking him anywhere at the moment.

***************

"Lois!" Perry's roar could be heard across the entire newsroom within moments of her stepping out of the elevator. "My office! Now!"

She waved a floppy disk and a camera at him and grinned. She could feel the curious stares and glances of her co-workers as she made her way into Perry's office, but she was far too excited to care. She paused before going inside to call loudly for Jimmy.

"Lois, where in tarnation have you been?" Perry asked, moments before Jimmy appeared in the doorway to his office.

Lois ignored her editor, choosing instead to hand Jimmy the roll of film she'd had in her camera. "Jimmy, take this film and develop it immediately. By yourself. I don't want to risk anyone letting the details of my story slip out. Bring the pictures back to me as soon as they've been developed, and keep them in a sealed envelope. Don't even think about telling anyone what you're doing or what's in those pictures."

The photographer's terse "I'll get right on that for you, Lois," convinced her that he hadn't forgotten their conversation from earlier.

"Look, Jimmy," she began, but he had gone. Rather than let that faze her, she turned to her boss. "Sorry to be so late getting in, Chief, but I wanted to take a run by Superman's apartment to see if I could find your solid proof. And I did!" Reaching into her shoulder bag, she pulled out Superman's planner. "Look at this!" She flipped through the pages quickly, pointing out the intertwined schedules of Clark Kent and Superman.

Perry was silent for a long moment after she finished talking. "Lois, honey, sit down."

She started to protest, but thought better of it at the look he gave her. She sat.

"Lois," he said slowly, crossing his arms in a stance that oozed authority, "I think we'd better talk about whether we should publish this story."

"Perry, it's news!"

"Yes, it's news, but is it really news that benefits the public? It's not responsible journalism. Who's gonna win if we run with this story? Clark -- er, Superman -- certainly won't."

ClarkSuperman. That fink. That liar. She wasn't about to let his non-benefit stand in the way of her story. She crossed her own arms.

Perry sighed. "Look, honey, I just don't think it's a good idea to expose Superman's identity. It would--"

This had gone far enough. "Perry, if you don't run the story, I'll take it to another paper that will."

He raised his eyebrows at her, and for a moment she wondered if she'd gone too far. Nobody told Perry White how to run his newspaper. But he was trying to squash her story, and for no reason other than he didn't think it would be nice to run it! She raised her chin and looked him squarely in the eyes. Nobody told Lois Lane how to report the news either. And nobody, nobody stood in the way of Lois Lane and the Pulitzer prize.

"Well, honey," he drawled, "you do what you have to do."

"That's it?!? You're not running my story?"

"That's it." He sat back down at his desk, picked up his grease pencil, and stared hard at the draft layout in front of him. "Since you're back in town," he added nonchalantly, as though their conversation had been about the weather, "take the gang violence story off Marcia's hands. I don't think she's got the edge to do it properly, but I didn't have anyone else to give it to."

Lois found herself shaking uncontrollably. He couldn't do this to her. He wouldn't do this to her. Not Perry. "Chief..."

"She can debrief you on what she's got, but I don't think it's all that much right now. Should be right up your alley."

Gang violence? Gang violence happened every day. Gang violence didn't win Pulitzers. She wasn't going to give up on this story.

"Look, Chief--"

But he didn't let her finish. "That's all, Lois."

"Fine, then!" she replied angrily. "I qu--" She stopped mid-word, glared at Perry, and stomped out of his office, slamming the door as hard as she could as she went.

It wasn't until she was back at her desk that she was able to think with any clarity at all. She stared at the plant on her desk, her hands still trembling violently. How could Perry -- Perry! -- do this to her? This was an amazing story, the exclusive to beat all exclusives. They would be writing her name on the Pulitzer certificate for investigative journalism when this story hit the streets. There wouldn't even be a contest. She would make history... and Perry wanted to stop it all before it even started.

Perry, if you don't run the story, I'll take it to another paper that will. She felt detached, like she were an unnoticed bystander watching the scene play out again. She could see herself and her boss, staking out their territories, circling their wagons. He hadn't blinked an eye when she said she'd go to another newspaper. He probably didn't think she'd do it. He probably thought she loved the Planet too much. Well, she did love the Planet, but that didn't mean she was going to throw away a Pulitzer Prize when it was handed to her on a silver platter. That would be galactically stupid.

She nodded slowly. She would do what she had to do. She took a disk from the collection on her desk and saved all her active stories. They were her stories, after all. While they files were being transferred, she grabbed a small box so she could collect her personal belongings... only to realize the only personal items on her desk were a small photograph of herself and Lucy and her nameplate. Resolutely, she put them in the box.

"Lois, I've got the prints you wanted." Jimmy put a sealed envelope on her desk. "Let me know if you need anything else." He turned and walked away. She could tell he was curious about the pictures, but he didn't want to ask about them. Didn't want to ask her, anyway.

Her files had been saved. She popped the disk out and put that in the box as well, and then she quickly typed up a letter of resignation. It was short and to the point. She LAN'ed it to Perry, picked up her box, and left.