It was very late when he arrived home. He tossed his keys on his coffee table, and removed his jacket, loosening his tie, as he hung the jacket up. It was a good thing he wasn’t married anymore, the constant late nights had put an irreparable strain on his first marriage and he wasn’t about to put someone else through that. However, it did mean there was no one to come home to after a challenging case, or a rough day, and today he wished there was someone.

He laughed to himself. Bill Henderson pining for love? He poured himself a glass of scotch and took a sip, settling down in his favourite reading chair, a soft leather chair, that seemed to help him relax a little more. Picking up the book he had started yesterday, he found the place he had left off, and began to read, trying to let the days events in his mind, settle.

But he couldn’t. He wanted to go back to the precinct and keep fitting all the pieces of the Luthor puzzle together. The countless anonymous and unsolved crimes, that were now being solved thanks to Luthor’s meticulous records, and to Mrs. Cox, who after hearing of Luthor’s death, had begun to sing loudly, knowing no one could protect her.

There was another thing nagging at his mind, the disappearances of Kent and Superman. Both had claimed suspicions into Luthor’s criminal activities, Superman’s suspicions dating back months. Superman stated Luthor had lured him into the cage, but how? Had he captured Kent first and used him as the bait? His intuition screamed that Lois had been the bait, though unaware, as she hadn’t known anything about Kent’s, or Superman’s, disappearance, and wouldn't have done anything willingly to hurt either man.

For Superman to be unavailable wasn’t something out of the ordinary, as he couldn’t be everywhere at once, and there had been no serious crimes last night to warrant his appearance, so he hadn’t been noticed as missing. Luthor’s suicide and the lack of a superhero to rescue him shouldn’t raise too many eyebrows, he assumed, especially once the newspapers exposed Luthor for what he really was. There would, of course, be those that claimed Superman purposely wasn’t available to save Luthor, just as there would be those who would proclaim Luthor was pushed from his penthouse, and the inevitable conspiracy theorists would crawl out of the woodwork, and try to do their damage. The truth would be recorded, reported on, and some would choose to ignore it, instead willing to believe the wild theories that would emerge.

He poured himself another drink, musing on the demise of the Daily Planet. A shame that a fine, upstanding, source of news was no longer, and the many reporters that had worked there were now scattered. The Star had snapped up Hays, the crime beat reporter, and Bill thought that would be a good fit. Hays was a good guy, had worked at the Planet for over a decade, and had a great working relationship with many of the guys in his precinct. It would be good to have a familiar, trustworthy, reporter at the Star. A few other of the reporters had taken jobs in Metropolis, thought it was unlikely he’d interact with them any more than he had before. Other than Hays, a few of the junior reporters, the only people he saw plenty of, were Lois and Clark.

He’d miss the team of Lane and Kent, despite their habit of ending up in the story. They both had great instincts, were trustworthy, and fantastic writers, easily the best investigative reporters he’d ever worked with. What would happen to them now? Would Kent stick around, or move on? Would Lois continue to work at LNN?

He gently swirled the amber liquid in his glass as he pondered. How had Lois missed Luthor’s true character with those razor sharp instincts of hers? Had she really been blindly in love? In the interview, she stated she’d stopped the wedding, right before the police had entered, explaining that she realized she couldn’t go through with it. He hadn’t questioned that further when it became obvious she wasn’t aware of Luthor’s criminal activities. Then, later that evening, she’d been a sobbing mess at Kent’s place. He’d guessed a while ago that Kent carried a flame for Lois, one she either ignored, or was oblivious to. Perhaps she wasn’t so oblivious anymore. It would explain why had she been so insistent to see Kent that night, and why she had stopped the wedding?

After he and Officer Kostiuk had finished the interview with Kent, Kostiuk informed him Lois had seen Kent’s injuries, assumed Luthor had something to do with it, and had been pretty shaken, demanding to know what had happened. As Officer Kostiuk hadn’t known anything about Kent being in Luthor’s clutches, he had instead talked to her, asking her why she thought Luthor was involved. She had no proof, just suspicions, so Kostiuk had small talked with her until Perry arrived.

Taking a sip, he mulled over the interview with Kent, and remembered the haunted look in Kent’s eyes at the mention of the cage. It was startlingly similar to Superman’s. In a flash, he remembered the way both men had reacted to his questions, their hands rising in a gesture of defense, exposing burn marks on their palms.

Identical burn marks.

The metal bars of the cage had been cold once he’d turned that eerie green glowing off. Whatever that substance was, was harmful to Superman, but was it harmful to humans? If both Kent and Superman had been inside that cage when it was on, and touched the bars, would they have identical burns?

As much as Superman had tried to hide it, Bill had been able to see the wounds through the scorched holes in the Suit, and there had been several. Clark bore an identical mark on his neck, he’d seen it when Clark had woken up, and then revealed when the hood of his sweater had slipped. As for the other wounds on the arms and shoulders, he didn’t know if Kent had similar injuries.

Bill set his glass down on the coffee table and leaned forward in his chair, thinking furiously. Lois was almost a permanent fixture around Superman, but had he ever seen Clark with the superhero? They’d been at the same place, but never at the exact same time.

The fear of the cage, the expression in their eyes, their identical reactions.

Bill rubbed his eyes and stood up. It was late, he was clearly exhausted and imagining things. He walked over to the kitchen sink and poured the remainder of his drink down the drain, as his mind refused to let go of the Clark and Superman train of thought.

Nightfall, he remembered with a start. Clark had been found with no memory of recent events, at the same time, Superman had gone missing. When Clark had regained his memory, Superman had returned in the nick of time to save the Earth.

Could it be? Was the answer to Clark’s mysterious disappearance last night, that simple?

Superman never lied. If he had an alter ego, it would make sense that the alter ego would have the same standards and morals, and Clark certainly had high morals. By not revealing where he was the previous night, Clark was keeping the other identity secret, without lying.

He remembered watching the press conference before Superman left to attempt to destroy Nightfall, the adoration in Superman’s eyes, directed at Lois, as Superman prepared to leave. He remembered it because it had surprised him that the superhero had shown affection for someone so openly. There had been other times when Superman showed his affection to Lois, but they were brief, and masked quickly. It was no secret that Lois Lane had been infatuated with the Man of Steel when he first arrived, and over time, a friendship had formed. But that same adoring glance was often directed Lois’ direction from Clark. Had one man, in two guises, that cared for Lois, been trapped by Luthor, and Lois had been unaware? It would answer the question of what lured Superman and Kent to the cage in the first place! Had Luthor been aware of Kent’s true identity?

He needed to sleep on this, wake with fresh eyes and rested mind, otherwise he was going to start making crazier connections than he already was.

****

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