You owe this revision to Sheila Harper, who suggested I make a few changes for the sake of improving the story. Comments welcome.
Nan
Wedding Consequences: Revised Ending
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"Chief!" Jimmy Olsen burst into his editor's office, but contrary to the annoyance his boss might have expressed at his precipitous entrance, Perry White sat up straight. Jimmy's face told the whole story.
"They found them?"
"They're alive!" Jimmy panted out the words, almost breathless. "We just got a call from the Colorado Forest Service. They were just picked up, along with some guy with a LexCorp search team that pulled a gun on Clark. Lois talked to me for a minute, just long enough to tell us she'll be sending in a story to the rewrite desk as soon as she can get to a regular phone. They're both okay."
"Thank god," Perry said, aware of a lessening of the knot in his gut for the first time since Henderson had called him in the middle of the night with the news that Barry Jones had been assaulted, and that Lois and Clark were missing. "Did she say what happened?"
"I asked her, but she said she couldn't tie up the radio. They were relaying the call from the rescue copter. She wanted us to call Clark's parents and let them know."
"I'll take care of that right now," Perry said. "I guess we'll have to wait for the whole story, but at least we know they're all right."
"Yeah," Jimmy said. "I wonder what happened?"
"Well," Perry said, "Henderson said that his guys found a bug on my phone, so I guess somebody in Luthor's will wanted more of his money. It's not over, but Henderson's playing it pretty close to his chest."
"I hope he gets whoever the so-and-so is," Jimmy said, with unaccustomed venom. "It figures that some of Luthor's heirs would be just as dirty as he was."
"Whoever it is, he made a big mistake," Perry said. "If Henderson doesn't get him, you can bet Lois and Clark will. Anyway, I feel a lot better. Now if Superman would just turn up, it would be perfect. I don't suppose that's too likely, though."
"Henderson hasn't found a body," Jimmy said, his enthusiasm slightly dampened.
"Yeah. That's what I think everyone's holdin' onto," Perry said. "I know I am." He reached for the phone. "Better get back to work, kid. I need to call Clark's parents."
**********
And now, the revised ending:
"Please let them through." The Forest Service officer plowed ahead through the mob of media, cutting a path through the crush of bodies that literally fought with each other to reach Lois. "Please stand back. These people have had a very difficult time. Please move aside ..."
Clark clamped an arm around her, his jaw set as he pushed away a photographer who thrust his camera practically into Lois's face. Lois buried her face in his shoulder, her eyes squeezed shut. The man staggered back, going to one knee. Several more members of the Forest Service hurried forward to surround the two of them and help force the way through the mob of reporters hemming them in.
"Please stand back." The officer in the lead stood his ground as a man with a microphone tried to push past him, nearly screaming a question as he shoved the instrument under Lois's nose and jabbing Clark in the chest. Clark shoved the thing back into the face of the man who held it. Another uniformed figure stepped in front of them. "Move aside. Let these people by." A jumble of shouted questions followed them as one of their escorts pulled the door open to let them through and shut it in the faces of the frantic representatives of the media.
Lois half-collapsed against Clark. One of their rescuers muttered a four-letter word under his breath and turned to them. "Are you all right, Mrs. Luthor?"
"Lane," Lois said. Clark saw her visibly take a deep breath and then another before she straightened up and faced the man. "It's Lois Lane. I never legally changed my name."
The officer's lips twitched before he resumed his officially solemn expression. "'Lane'," he repeated. "If you and Mr. Kent would come this way, Ms. Lane, we have a paramedic here to check you over. Don't worry about them." He jerked his head at the door. "They won't be allowed in."
"Thanks." Lois took another deep breath. Clark could feel the hand that clasped his tighten for an instant. "Come on, Clark. Let's get this over with."
**********
The trip back in the Forest Service's rescue helicopter had been mostly occupied by the quick call to the Daily Planet, in between stuffing down the emergency rations presented to them by their rescuers. They had been followed closely by two newscopters. When they arrived at the station, the crush of bodies all trying to reach her for a photo or a quote hadn't been a surprise, but Lois had been astounded by the panicky sensation of sheer claustrophobia that swept over her as the members of the Fourth Estate surrounded them, refusing to let them past. She had been part of mobs like this, she knew, and it had never occurred to her before to empathize with the hapless target of her questions. In the past, it had always been about the story, not the distress of the unfortunate human being before her, in her drive to be first with the all-important interview. Such people, if she had thought about them at all, were supposed to be adults. They should be able to take it, and if they couldn't, well, that was unfortunate, but not her problem.
Only instead, she had felt nothing but the urge to crawl into Clark's arms and hide. Suddenly she could more than empathize with the individuals that she and others of her profession had cornered with questions that they had no desire to answer, persons in the midst of their own personal crises whose privacy was being ruthlessly violated by obnoxious and uncaring strangers.
She had always stood righteously by her convictions that the public had the right to know, but did the public really have the right to know *everything*? Did she and her colleagues legitimately have the right to intrude so callously into innocent people's lives and rip a human being's dignity to shreds in the course of their jobs, all for the sake of a story?
It was a sobering thought.
Stepping out of the bathroom amid a cloud of steam, forty minutes later, she saw Clark, a telephone receiver jammed in the space between his shoulder and his left ear, glance around and give her a thumbs up gesture.
"Thanks, Perry," he said. "We'll give you a call when we get there." He listened for another minute. "Yeah, she's okay. She just came in. I will. Bye." He hung up.
"That was Perry?" Lois asked.
"Yeah. He asked if you were really okay, and to tell you that your desk is waiting for you at the Planet when you get back." He looked her up and down. "You look like you feel a lot better."
"I do," Lois said. She raised a hand to steady the towel wound around her hair in a kind of turban effect. The plain, utilitarian robe that they had given her in place of the extremely dirty clothing that she had been wearing for the past few days was at least two sizes too big, but it was clean. She padded across the room to sit down beside him on the cot. "I never realized before how wonderful a hot shower could feel."
He nodded agreement, rubbing a hand across his clean-shaven jaw. "I know exactly what you mean. Even a couple of razor nicks was worth it, just to get rid of the beard. It itched."
On their arrival at the station, the paramedic had checked them over and pronounced them amazingly fit after their adventure. Only Lois had noticed Clark's sigh of relief when it was over, and they had politely but firmly refused the offer to have a doctor do a more complete examination later.
"So, what did Perry want?" she asked.
"He's making arrangements for us to catch a plane to Kansas -- for a few days at the least. He said to stay away at least that long, or we'll be sorry." Clark made a face. "The press is howling on his doorstep, and he had another tabloid guy arrested for trespassing, too." He shook his head.
"Clark, what are we going to do?" Lois asked. Just the thought of facing that mob downstairs again made her throat clog up. "How are we going to get out of here without them following us?"
"Jim Thompson -- one of the guys from the rescue copter -- and I were talking while you were in the shower," Clark said. "We kind of worked something out. I'm going to give a statement to the press as your spokesperson, and then we're going to get out of here."
"They'll follow us," Lois said.
"Not the way that we've worked it out," Clark said. "There's a van making a delivery that's due here in about three hours. When it leaves, two people dressed like us are going to be seen getting into the back. Just after it pulls out, an official car is going to follow it, with two men in the front and no one in the back. Jim thinks he can keep them after him long enough for the car to get out of sight and drop us off. A friend of his is going to pick us up in his private car a few minutes later, and take us to the airport."
Lois thought that over. "It should work," she said. "Do you really think we should go on to your parents' farm or should we just head back to Metropolis? I want to get on this thing as fast as we can."
"I talked to Henderson and told him the whole story," Clark said. "He didn't say much, but I got the feeling that he's putting a lot of effort into tracking down whoever was behind what happened. If we go back now, though, *you're* going to be the story. Every tabloid in the city is still fixated on you." He hesitated. "They also think Superman's dead. I wish I knew what to do about that."
Lois seated herself on the cot next to him. "I think the only thing we can do is wait and see what happens. After we get back to Metropolis, you should probably go see that researcher at STAR Labs, too. Then, when we know one way or another -- at least as much as we can -- Superman can either reappear or get in touch with Henderson and give him the scoop. Either way, we don't want him connected with you." She took his hand. "And when we do get back, the first thing I'm going to do is arrange for my lawyer to talk to the Superman Foundation for me. Maybe that will get the tabloids off my neck."
"Are you sure that's what you want to do?"
She nodded vigorously. "It's the only chance I have of getting my life back. I'll still want to have some say in how it's used, and be sure I have an income, just in case, but the sooner the Superman Foundation takes control of it the better. Once that's done, the paparazzi -- and the tabloids -- should eventually lose interest in me. I can't be an effective investigative reporter as long as those parasites are following me around." She shuddered. "Or even the regular press. Being the story isn't nearly as much fun as chasing it."
"I think you're right," Clark said. "It should frustrate the heck out of whoever tried to kill you, too. I have to say, I like that angle a lot."
"The thought," Lois said, "doesn't exactly upset me, either."
"If you like, we can give Perry a call from my parents' place, tell him what you want to do and have him contact your lawyer and the Superman Foundation," Clark said. "Then maybe most of the paperwork could be settled by the time we get back to Metropolis."
"That's an even better idea," Lois said. "Let's do it that way." She removed the towel from her head and began to rub her hair vigorously. "I can hardly wait."
**********
Lois paced anxiously back and forth in the small room that she and Clark had been given temporarily during their short stay at the Forest Service station.
This had to work, she told herself. Clark was going to be her spokesman, and if Superman didn't know how to handle the Press by now, no one did.
But she knew how persistent the Press could be, having been one of their most aggressive members for several years. Not much stopped her, and while she was -- or had been -- one of the best, there certainly had to be others with an equal amount of determination out there. Whether any of the slavering mob outside ranked in that category she didn't know, but it was possible. Surely, some of them might suspect some kind of ruse to get her out of this place, away from their clutches. If they figured out how, they were going to try to stop her, and besides, one or two of them were entirely likely to try to sneak in to get that award-winning interview in spite of all the guards around her.
She glanced down at herself, clad in her newly laundered clothing. She didn't look much like the frazzled, filthy woman who had been escorted into this place a couple of hours ago.
She turned to go into the bathroom. There was a pitcher of cold water on the counter in there, and she could use a drink of it. Her mouth felt unusually dry. She had read somewhere about men about to go into battle spitting to show that they weren't nervous. She would certainly fail that test right now.
Behind her, someone knocked on the door. A voice said, "Mrs. Luthor?"
She grimaced. She had told them that she was Lois *Lane*, but apparently the word hadn't circulated to everyone in the place. Still, she couldn't be very irritated with them. The men and women here had been more than helpful to both Clark and her.
"Yes?" she called.
"Mr. Kent asked me to give you a message. May I come in?"
"Just a minute," she said.
The door opened and one of the uniformed men entered. She frowned at him in irritation.
"You know, I might not have been dressed," she said, a little coolly.
"Sorry," he said. "We're in a bit of a hurry. Your ride is here. You need to get into it while Kent is still talking to the reporters."
She hesitated. "Let me get my bag."
He nodded, and she went to pick up the leather case that held the few remaining items that she and Clark had brought from Metropolis. He checked the hallway outside the little room and gestured her ahead of him toward the stairs.
The stairway was deserted, and their footsteps echoed on the wooden steps as they descended. When they reached the bottom, he pointed toward the rear, where a door opened into the shed that served the station as a small garage.
Why she hesitated, her hand on the knob, she couldn't say. Some instinct that she didn't even recognize, perhaps, made her pause.
"Go on," the man said. "We don't have much time."
"Is the van here?" she asked. "Clark said it wouldn't be here for another hour and a half."
"It's ahead of schedule," he said. "Kent will be here just as soon as he finishes talking to the media."
Something was wrong here, she thought. This wasn't how the plan was supposed to go. She hesitated again, glancing up at her escort. He was considerably larger than her, taller even than Clark. "I'll wait for Clark."
"He wanted you to go first," the man said. "Hurry, before someone sees you."
"No one's going to see me in here," she said, her earlier speculations coming suddenly to mind. "Which paper are you from?"
He moved suddenly, and she found her arm twisted up behind her. His hand covered her mouth. "Open the door," he said softly.
He hadn't changed in appearance, she saw as he pushed her toward the door, holding her in a painful grip from which she couldn't hope to simply jerk free. Contrary to the various novels, he didn't *look* like a killer. He looked just like anybody else, with a pleasant, bland face, blue eyes and dark, waving hair. He could have been anybody she passed on the street. He didn't smirk in triumph, or chortle maniacally. "Open the door, Mrs. Luthor," he said again.
She made a sound that she hoped meant refusal. He twisted her arm cruelly and she couldn't restrain a muffled yelp.
"Open it," he said, quietly. "I really don't enjoy hurting you."
She gritted her teeth. If he got her out there, she would certainly be found dead of an accident while trying to escape the members of the media.
Another twist to her arm. It felt as if he was ripping the muscles from their attachments. "Now," he said.
This couldn't go on. He was a lot bigger than she was and if she refused to cooperate, he could physically wrestle her through the door if necessary. She made what she hoped was a sound of assent and reached for the doorknob.
"Good girl," he said.
She would have once chance, and that was it. They had taught an escape from this kind of hold in her Tae Kwon Do class. If it didn't work, she was dead.
She lifted one foot and raked it down her captor's shin with everything she had, almost simultaneously pivoting left to partially release the tension on her trapped arm, and struck with her free hand at his groin.
The move was more effective than she had dreamed. His grip on her arm loosened, and she was able to rotate her wrist, breaking free of the arm lock. She deflected his instinctive grab with the other hand and struck at the bridge of his nose with the heel of the newly freed one.
The blow connected and blood spurted. He screamed, grabbing blindly for her, but she ducked easily under his flailing arm and drove her elbow into his solar plexus with all her remaining strength. He doubled forward with a strangled grunt, the breath knocked completely out of him.
"Help!" she shouted, belatedly. "Somebody, help!"
**********
"God, Lois! When I heard you yell ..." Clark seemed unable to remove his arm from around her shoulders. Their escape plan had been put on hold for the moment, and the county sheriff had finally finished taking her statement. He had escorted Lois's somewhat battered attacker from the room only moments before, bound for his squad car.
"I'm okay," she reassured him for probably the fiftieth time. "I didn't take Tae Kwon Do just for fun, you know."
"No, and thank god you didn't." Her partner's face was still unnaturally pale under its normal olive tone. "They're still trying. The sooner we get you somewhere they can't find you, the better."
She nodded. "You're right."
"I am?"
"Sure." She nodded vigorously. "I don't want to have to be looking over my shoulder for hired assassins who are trying to arrange accidents for me all the time. But once the thing with the money is fixed, we're going back, media or not."
His eyes widened and then a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "What brought this on?"
"I did," she said confidently. "I guess the real Lois Lane has been in hiding for a while, but I was just reminded a little while ago that I *can* take care of myself. It isn't going to be fun, but it's time all the people trying to push me around get a taste of what it's like with the shoe on the other foot."
The smile on his lips widened into a genuine grin. "I guess the real Lois Lane is back," he said. "Metropolis better watch out."
"And 'The Mrs.', too," Lois said. "I'm tired of her games."
Jim Thompson stuck his head into the room. "Our media friends are trying to get the story from the Sheriff," he said. "Come on. We had the van wait, so now's your chance."
**********
The last time Lois Lane had seen the old Kent farmhouse had been under circumstances that she would rather not think about. It had been only one day after she had seen a madman try to shoot her partner in the back. That experience wasn't something she liked to remember. One second's delay would have meant a far different outcome and her best friend would have been dead, no matter what had happened to Trask afterwards.
Now she knew that much more had been going on than she had known. Clark's father had been hiding a chunk of Kryptonite in the barn, Superman's powers were in abeyance because of it, Jason Trask had nearly succeeded in killing Superman, as he had intended from the first, and because she had told Rachel Harris to get to the Kents' place, the sheriff had been in time to save his life. Every now and then, however, that scene would replay in her dreams and she would awaken in a cold sweat.
As Clark pulled the rented car to a stop and cut the engine, her gaze flitted to the pond with its little bridge where she had seen Trask die, but she resolutely turned her attention to something else. Those things were in the past. Now she and Clark had a much-needed period of peace and quiet ahead of them to rest and recuperate from the traumatic events of the past several days -- before they returned to Metropolis to face the tabloids and the furor.
She opened the door of the car and got out, looking around at Clark's home. Both the house and the barn had a new coat of paint, she saw. The small bridge over the pond where the rail had been damaged during Clark's fight with Trask had been repaired. There was no trace left of the events that had taken place during that first trip to Smallville.
Clark opened the driver's door and stepped out as well. He glanced around, and Lois saw a smile on his face. This was where Clark Kent's roots were, she thought, the place that had made him the person that he was, and that had given the world the man who would become Superman. And the world would doubtless laugh derisively if it knew.
She had laughed at him, sneered at Clark Kent's Midwestern values, at the same time respecting those identical values in Superman. It was sobering to realize what a difference that an image could make to a person's perception. The last few days had been a lesson in more ways than one, she thought. It was something she wouldn't soon forget.
When she had needed Clark, after Lex's death, he had been there for her. Could she do less for him? If Superman was indeed gone for good, which was something that she wasn't willing to accept yet, Clark might need her more than ever. And besides, she needed him.
Clark rounded the car to open the trunk and remove the little bag that had accompanied them on their journey from the field high in the Colorado Rockies to the farmhouse in Kansas. It had a very few of her possessions in it. She would have to buy more if they were going to remain here for two weeks or more, she thought. They had talked to Perry White by phone after reaching Wichita Field, and the decision had been to wait until the thirty days were up after Luthor's death, to make certain that Lois's death would benefit no one in his will.
He closed the trunk and extended a hand. "Looks like Mom and Dad aren't home. Let's go in and get a snack. I may never stop feeling hungry again." He looked briefly at the sun, now sinking toward the west. "It's been a busy day."
"That's for sure," Lois said. She reached out to take the case, but instead he caught her hand in his free one.
"I'm glad we're out of that mess," he said suddenly and unexpectedly, "but I'm going to miss part of it."
"Oh ..." To her vast surprise, she felt her cheeks growing warm. "So am I."
He was silent, looking into her eyes for what seemed ages. At last she broke their locked gaze, dropping her focus to his collarbone, aware that she was certainly blushing deeper than ever. "Clark ..."
"I'm sorry," he said, obviously misinterpreting her flush. "I didn't mean to ..."
"No." She raised her fingers to his lips stopping the words mid-sentence. "You know, if not for you, I'd be on my honeymoon right now. Do you have any idea how glad I am that I'm not?"
He moved closer, not releasing her hand. "I couldn't just let it happen," he said. "Not when I knew what he was ... what he'd do to you. I had to try. I'm only sorry that I didn't manage to stop things in time to keep all the rest of this from happening."
Her hand was trapped between them. She wiggled it free, but only in order to slip her arms around his waist. "Clark, I don't remember if I ever apologized for the terrible things I said to you, for the things I accused you of ... but I'd like to do it now. To tell you just once how sorry I am, and how grateful."
"No --"
"Yes," she said, overriding his instinctive protest. "I'm more grateful than I can ever say. You saved me from myself, and we both know what a tough opponent I am." His lips twitched in a slight smile at her feeble joke, but she hurried on before he could speak. "But mostly, I want to tell you again that I love you -- and not as a brother, either. That's something that I kept hiding behind the whole time, pretending it wasn't so. I guess when I'm determined to do something stupid, all the evidence to the contrary doesn't matter. I'll have to remember that, if I ever want to be an investigative reporter again." She drew a deep breath. "I have to say this now, though, before I lose my nerve. I'll never know why, but you say you still love me."
"I do. I always will."
"Will you marry me, Clark?"
His eyes widened. "*Now*?"
She shook her head. "Oh, not now. That wouldn't look very good, and the tabloids would never leave us alone. But maybe in six months, when all this mess has died down, and the paparazzi have forgotten about us."
"Are you sure, Lois?" His hand came up to cup her cheek. "Are you sure that's what you really want?"
She nodded. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
He didn't hesitate. "In that case, yes."
The overnight case landed on the ground as she flung herself into his arms, but neither of them noticed.
Lex had never kissed her this way. She had never even wanted him to kiss her this way. No matter what happened in the future, she thought dizzily, as Clark's arms tightened around her and his lips covered hers, today had to rank as the most wonderful day of her life.
**********
Clark was in the process of making thick sandwiches for both of them when he heard the rumble of the Kent pickup truck's engine. A glance out the window told him that the ancient vehicle had just turned onto the narrow track leading from the highway that ran past the Kent property. It sounded as if his dad needed to get the muffler fixed again.
"Mom and Dad will be here in a few minutes," he said. "That's their truck." He sliced Lois's sandwich in half, added a thick dill pickle to the plate and presented it to her with a flourish. "Here you go, my lady."
"What's their truck?" Lois asked. She picked up half the sandwich and took a large bite. "This is great," she added, with her mouth full.
"That motor," he replied, as he sliced his own sandwich and set the plate on the table across from her. "Mom and Dad just turned off the road."
She swallowed and raised the sandwich for another bite. "I don't hear ... Oh, yeah, now I do," she interrupted herself. "Your ears must be better than mine."
"You didn't hear that?" Clark sat up straight, and at the same instant Lois's eyes widened.
"Clark! Your hearing! You don't suppose ..."
"I ... I don't ..." Quite suddenly, his voice had begun to shake.
"Can you test it?"
He nodded, training his attention on the truck as it approached. The murmur of his parents' voices was indistinct, but ...
"I can hear their voices," he said, aware that his own voice was shaking harder. "I can't tell what they're saying."
"Yet," Lois added. "Clark, I think your powers might be coming back."
He nodded, blinking at the sudden stinging of his eyes. He had told himself not to hope and tried not to think about it, but now he realized just how much he had missed the part of him that was Superman.
Lois's hand was suddenly covering his. "Superman's not gone," she said. "I'm so happy for you."
He squeezed her hand, swallowing the lump that seemed to have formed in his throat, and took a bite of his sandwich. Suddenly, the food tasted wonderful.
The truck pulled up in the driveway and the engine went quiet. A moment later, the kitchen door swung open and Martha Kent came in, carrying a large bag of groceries. Jonathan followed, another bag in his hands.
"Clark! Lois!" Martha set the bag down on the counter. "I wanted to be back before you got here! Are you two all right?"
Clark got to his feet to take the bag from his father. "Pretty much," he said. "Is there anything more to bring in?"
"Just one bag. I'll get it. You sit down and finish your sandwich." Jonathan turned and went out again.
Clark set the bag on the counter. His mother pointed to the sandwich. "You heard your father, Clark. Sit. Eat. I imagine the two of you haven't had much food for the last few days."
"Well," Clark hedged, "there were blackberries. We didn't starve." At his mother's stern look, he resumed his seat. "As you can see, Lois, my mom runs the whole show around here. Dad and I do what she says, if we know what's good for us."
Lois smiled. "Then you're used to it," she said. "I'm glad I won't have to retrain you."
Martha's eyebrows flew up. "Is there something I should know, here?"
"When we got here, Lois asked me to marry her," Clark said, offhandedly. "I said yes."
Martha's face broke into a delighted grin. "I always said you were a smart boy. Congratulations, both of you."
Jonathan stepped through the door, bearing the last bag. "Am I missing something?"
"Lois and Clark are engaged," Martha told him. She hurried to Lois and bent to hug her. "I always wanted a daughter. Now it looks like I'll have one."
Jonathan turned to look at Clark. "That was fast. When's the big event?"
"In six months or so," Lois said. Clark could see that her cheeks were faintly pink. "First we have to take care of some things. At least this time, I know I've made the right choice."
"There's something else, too," Clark said. "My powers are starting to come back. They're not a hundred percent yet, but it's happening."
Jonathan glanced at Lois, and nodded. "That's a relief. We were a little worried."
"Finish your snacks, and then we want to hear about what happened," Martha said. "Dinner will be in about two hours. Do you think you'll be able to eat again by then?" she added, looking at Lois.
She swallowed another large bite of sandwich. "I've got several days to make up for," she said. "I don't think there'll be any problem."
**********
Lois helped herself to the chicken casserole and let Clark shovel more mashed potatoes and chicken gravy onto her plate. The food was delicious, especially after four days of being hungry in the middle of nowhere. She made a mental note to ask Martha Kent for a few cooking lessons. Since she and Clark were going to be married, it would be nice if she could make something besides macaroni salad for dinner occasionally, and Martha looked like a very good prospect to teach her. After Clark's powers fully returned, it wouldn't be too difficult to visit Kansas frequently enough to gain a little skill in the kitchen, she thought.
"You know," Clark said, "I was afraid the media might have staked out the farm. I was wondering what to do if they had. Did you have any trouble with them?"
"The first day we did get a few calls, trying to get our reaction to what had happened," Martha said. "After some slimy character from the Tattler called, looking for any kind of scandal between you and Lois, we turned off the phone. We never saw any of them, though. Later Rachel told us that people had been directing the few that showed up in town all over Kingdom Come when they asked how to get here. It was kind of a game about who could send them to the worst spots, or get them going in circles."
Clark grinned. "That I'd like to have seen."
Jonathan chuckled. "After the pair from the Whisper had to have their car towed out of Potter's Slough, she said they kind of lost their enthusiasm. Fortunately, most of the papers were much more interested in Lois than you, Clark. Our local paper printed the story, and Carrie Johnson interviewed your mother and me, but that's been pretty much all of it, at least so far. A couple of tabloids called this afternoon, but your mother told them that although we'd talked to you by phone, that we wouldn't be flying out to Metropolis to see you until next week because we were going to be butchering hogs and would be too busy until then."
"I didn't see any hogs," Lois said.
"We don't have any," Martha said. "They don't know that, though. I gave them both a graphic description of the process -- until the guy at the other end hung up."
Lois had to work not to laugh with a mouthful of potatoes. Clark grinned approvingly. "Well, with the rental car in the shed, if any of them come snooping around, there'll be nothing to tell them that we're here," he said. "I guess we'll just have to lay low. Maybe you could go into town and get Lois a change of clothes," he added. "I won't be able to go get what we left behind at the plane until my powers come back fully, and that might be a while."
"How about your family, Lois?" Jonathan asked. "Did you get to talk to them?"
"I called my mother after we got to civilization, just to let her know I was okay," Lois said. "She's been on tranquilizers since the wedding, anyway though. The press has been camped out in front of her apartment ever since, too, so nothing has really changed. Besides, I think she kind of likes the drama."
Martha shook her head. "Don't these people realize that the last thing a family needs during a crisis is to have reporters crawling all over them?"
"They realize it," Clark said. "A lot of them just don't care about the feelings of the people involved, if there's a story to be had."
"I'll never forget it again, after this," Lois said, quietly. "I got a close look at just how it feels from the other side. I think it can only improve how I do my job in the future. Clark and I have been discussing how I can become a non-story as soon as possible. If it's all right, I'd like to call Perry tomorrow morning, and ask him to do some things for me. By the time Clark and I get married, we don't want a bunch of media attention. It might make it hard for him to do his job. His other job," she clarified. She turned her head to look at Clark and smiled. He smiled back and his hand slipped over to clasp hers under the edge of the table.
It was funny, she thought, how everything had changed in the days after her wedding to Lex. The things that she had thought important a couple of weeks ago didn't seem to matter anymore. The unreachable hero who had haunted her dreams had been replaced by her best friend, and all the glitz, power and luxury that Lex had waved in front of her to impress her had become a stone around her neck: a barrier to the important things that she wanted to do with her life.
Well, they would return to Metropolis when the thirty days were up and ride out the storm of their fifteen minutes of fame. She would rid herself of the burden of Lex's money, and then she and Clark and Superman would go to work as a team to find out who had tried to kill them. The "Mrs.", whoever she was, was going to find out the hard way that she had tangled with the wrong people.
And then, when everything was back to normal, she and Clark would be married quietly. Their partnership at work would become a partnership in life.
That was going to be the most thrilling adventure of all.
The End
