A/N: I'm very, very sorry for the lateness *and* shortness of this post. I've eaten through my buffer, and had to grapple with a bit of writer's block besides. Every time I think I know how this chapter is going to end, the story goes "Nope!" and runs away, laughing. So, again, sorry for the delay. If you need a refresher on what's come before, Here's the TOC.
Hope you enjoy. 
Part Eight----------
“—and the best part is that Keith is *already* playing Clark, so there's no need to find someone else!” Lois beamed at her audience, waiting for their response.
Les and Mr. Byrne stared blankly at her. After several moments, she began to feel uncomfortable. Not for the first time, she wondered if this wouldn't turn out to be a horrible, horrible mistake.
“Interesting,” Les said at last. He turned to Mr. Byrne. “What do you think?”
Mr. Byrne shrugged. “It's a little far-fetched, if you ask me,” he replied.
Lois gaped at them. “What?!”
“Well, let's be serious here,” Mr. Byrne continued. “You expect us to believe that *Superman*”—he emphasized the name—“was really just an 'ordinary, Kansas farm boy' who just *happened* to also be the most powerful man on the planet? I mean, it's an unexpected plot-twist, I'll give you that; but it's also pretty ridiculous, and I say this with the experience of someone who once had to fix a screenplay where the monster was made of sentient shoe-laces!”
Lois narrowed her eyes at him. “It's not ridiculous; it's the truth.”
Mr. Byrne snorted. “Look, Miss Graham,” he said condescendingly, “I don't know where you get your so-called 'expertise', but I've gone through plenty of footage of the first Superman while working on the script, and there was nothing ordinary about him. He was aloof. He was noble. He was *not* the kind of man who'd work a regular job, drink coffee, and—and *farm* things!” Mr. Byrne waved a hand in the air. “I mean, just think of how much of an actor he'd have to be to pull all that off, if he was!”
“He'd win an Oscar,” Les agreed.
“But it *is* an act!” Lois fumed, glaring daggers at both men.
“In that case,” asked Les, “why didn't he ever go to Hollywood?”
Lois huffed.
“Miss Graham,” said Mr. Byrne, “If all this 'family head' wants is for us to show Superman's loyalty to Earth, fine. I can work with that. But I *won't* write a bunch of unbelievable rubbish just because of some aliens' political agendas.”
“They. Are. Not. Aliens,” Lois grit out through her teeth. “Haven't you been listening?”
There was a soft knock at the door.
“What if we went with something a little bit more believable?” Les offered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We could imply that he was that rich guy—what was his name—Bruce Wayne! That would at least be a little plausible...”
“Unbelievable,” Lois muttered. Louder, she said, “I'm giving you the exclusive of the millennium, and you don't even care?”
Someone knocked again.
“Look,” growled Les, “this is the movies. We're not interested in exclusive or ground-breaking, we're interested in proven and sell-able! Some half-baked yarn about Clark Kent and Superman being the same person isn't going to—” He was interrupted by another knock. “Whoever that is, you'd better be bringing my aspirin or I will rip off that door and beat you with it!” he shouted.
“It's me,” came Charlotte's voice from the other side of the door.
Lois' eyes widened in panic. “Uh, Charlotte, we're a little busy right now,” she said.
“I know what you're up to, Grams,” said Charlotte. “I came back while you were telling them about great-grandpa Clark going through the New Kryptonians' tests.”
Les' forehead crinkled, while Mr. Byrne's expression went completely blank.
Lois chuckled nervously. “Um, I really have *no* idea—” she began.
“Come in,” Les interrupted.
Charlotte entered the room and gently closed the door behind her.
“I said I wanted her kept out of this,” Lois hissed to Les.
“And I said you could stuff it,” Les hissed back. He turned to Charlotte and spoke up. “What's going on, Charlotte?”
“Just give me one minute, Les.” Charlotte took a seat at the table and turned to Lois. “I talked to the guys,” she said. “I know what you're doing, Grams. When Jordan told me about the argument and your sudden change of heart, I started to smell fish. What I don't get is why you're trying to keep me out of it.”
Lois sighed. “I'm just trying to protect you,” she admitted.
Charlotte grinned. “Wow, you must have already spent too much time with Gramps,” she teased. “Protect me from what? Worrying? I admit the idea of going public is scary, but—”
Lois shook her head. “It's not that. I just don't want you taking any blame for this decision.” She looked Charlotte in the eye. “If something goes wrong and you all need each-other, you should be able to run to your family without them pointing fingers and saying 'you were the cause of all this.' I won't have it! Whatever happens, you can all weather it as long as you all stick together. So, it needs to all fall on me.”
Charlotte's jaw dropped. “Grams, do you really think we'd just turn on each other like that, especially in a real crisis?!”
Lois shrugged. “Well, yes.” At Charlotte's continued gaping, she added, “Look, your uncle Arnold already threatened to disown Jordan just for mentioning it!”
“Well, yeah,” said Charlotte, “I can see him saying that—I mean, he does have a temper, and he's always been protective of Wesley; but, Grams, we're *family*. When times get really hard, we stick together; that's what families do!”
“Not all of them,” Lois pointed out with a grimace.
Charlotte gave her a sympathetic look. “I know,” she said, “but ours always has.”
Lois frowned, still unconvinced.
Charlotte gave a frustrated sigh. “Okay, so you don't believe me. But Grams, this my job and my family that we're discussing. What would you do in my place?”
Lois momentarily flushed. “Fine,” she conceded. “You've made your point; I guess I have been taking lessons from your great-grandfather.”
Charlotte beamed triumphantly.
“So, what do you want to do, now?” Lois asked her.
“My job,” Charlotte replied. She turned to the two men sitting slack-jawed on the other side of the table. “Gentlemen, shall we make a movie?”
To Be Continued
