Who-whoo! So I decided to format this chapter on the bus while I rode home from school today, so with that already done it's surprising how much less time the actual posting takes. So here you are, a couple hours before I told you it would be here.

Thank you everyone so much for your reviews. They really help me with each new chapter, I promise you that. If you want more response to your reviews, look back at the last FDK.

Please remember to review (you Lurkers especially! laugh )! I hope you all enjoy,

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Chapter 35: Flash Back

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Clark sped to a stop in the alleyway next to his apartment and stayed still for a moment, the world almost spinning around him as he adjusted to normal speed again. He had hardly slowed the whole night, but darted here and there, taking care of gang fights, muggers, and even a couple break-ins and a fire, which he sped by and put out before the fire department even got there. He leaned against the wall, breathing hard—feeling exhausted, but exhilarated.

After a moment he walked out of the alleyway, looking up at the still-clouded morning sky with a tinge of regret. His body ached for the sunlight, and it looked like it might be another long day without it. Bringing his gaze down to earth again, he headed up the stairs.

It was too early for his neighbors to be up, and he was glad that it was so as he allowed himself to favor his right leg slightly. It was sore and stiff from the long, dark night, but Clark didn’t let it slow him down.

He opened his apartment and looked at the clock. His wristwatch had been neatly shattered during the events of the night (he had forgotten how it was to wear normal clothes to a rescue), and he had come home only with the lightening of the grey sky.

6:23.

Clark felt a yawn cracking at his jaw, and again glanced towards the dim light filtering through his windows. It was funny. A few weeks ago he didn’t even know where his powers came from, but now he craved sunlight, especially right now.

He limped into the bathroom and turned on the light, then stopped stand-still as he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

His hair was slicked back, as it often did from the high speeds when he flew around as Superman. But a few tufts stuck out at odd angles, and Superman’s trademark curl was standing up so he looked like some odd sort of angry bird.

His work suit was ruined. He had lost the coat sometime during the night—he wasn’t exactly sure when.. His suit vest hung open—two of the buttons were missing—and underneath his shirt was filthy from soot, rain, and mud. He had lost his glasses somewhere, and his tie was literally hanging by a thread around his neck.

He broke that last string and inspected the twisted, tattered piece of once-colorful material.

“And it was one of my favorite ones, too,” Clark said to his mud-splattered and smudged image, then chuckled at himself.

He set the pitiful remains of the tie aside, then in a blur had disposed of the rest of his outfit and leaped into the shower.

It took only thirty seconds for Clark to be in, out, and standing before the mirror again—this time dressed in comfortable sweats and a t-shirt. He slicked his hair back purposefully, and pulled the curl down over his forehead. He stood up straight and folded his arms over his white t-shirt. He gave his reflection a stern look.

Hello, Superman.

He still looked a bit thin, and right now especially he looked rather pale and tired, but that was to be expected.

Satisfied, he reached up and mussed up his hair again, pulling it from its slicked position to hide his cowlick. It took some rummaging to find another old pair of glasses, but after another minute Clark Kent stood before the mirror, again looking at himself carefully.

He smiled.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. But even as he spoke another yawn cracked at his jaw and he felt his exhaustion creeping over him like a blanket of warm fuzz and settling his mind into a sleepy satisfaction. He covered the yawn with a hand and glanced at the clock.

6:26.

He didn’t have to be to work until eight. He could sleep for an hour, at least…

He limped over to his bed, running his hand through his hair, and then jumped back lightly onto his sheets before turning over to look at the ceiling. For kicks, he took a breath and tried to fly.

No good. But even that wasn’t enough to bring down Clark’s flying spirits.

There was only one thing that could.

Lois…

His tired mind immediately snapped to, and he sat up. Was she okay? Had anything happened with Luthor last night?

His light spirit paused, drifting over his shoulders as if debating whether to leave or stay. Clark’s eyes went over to the phone and he noticed the message button flashing. Rising, he went over and pressed it.

“Hi, Clark. This is Lois. I just…I—I know you were worried about me going with Lex. Well, I’m back, and I’m fine. So no more need to worry, okay?” There was a pause, and Clark heard a sigh on the other end. “Good night, Smallville.”

Clark blinked at the unexpected message. Lois had called him? Clark Kent? Just to say she was fine?

His eyes darkened slightly. Was she okay? She sounded tired. The message had been left quite late at night, but…it wasn’t like her. Why would Lois Lane call Clark Kent? She didn’t really sound afraid, so Clark didn’t think Lex had actually done anything, but her voice sounded stressed. And why in the world would she call him? But she did. That was a good thing, right? Unless Lex had forced her to do it. But Lois didn’t sound like she was being forced. No, she just sounded a little hesitant and maybe even a little embarrassed, though her voice had seemed a little down, if anything . . .

Clark took a deep breath and tried to slow his spinning thoughts, which had jumped into superspeed without warning.

Okay. She had said she was all right, and caller ID matched up and said she’d called from home. Clark listened to the message again, carefully listening for any other voice or the breathing of someone else that may have been in the room with her.

Nothing.

Except Lois’s voice . . .

That sigh was slightly unsteady, and shook at the end in an almost unnoticeable way…

Had she been crying?

Clark swallowed, resisting the urge to dart over to her house right away. The message had come quite late, so no doubt Lois was still asleep. Besides, if she had been crying, it had been hours before.

What had Luthor done?

But she had said she was fine.

Clark stopped there before he was caught up in the endless cycle of his thoughts again. He took a deep breath.

Fact: Lois had called, and said she was fine. So Lois was fine.

Lois had called him. Him, in the middle of the night.

Clark felt a moment of regret that he hadn’t been there. But then, he couldn’t have known that Lois would call, and even if he did…around that time he was probably in the middle of catching bullets from a police/gang shootout anyway.

But still…

Was Lois letting him in?

With the thought, Clark felt like he could fly right then, though his concern didn’t completely disappear.

He let out his breath and forced himself away from the phone. He was tired. It was a feeling he wasn’t used to, and he didn’t know how well he could function on this so little sleep. So he would rest, now, and see Lois in a little bit. She was just fine, after all. That’s why she had called.

He went back to his bed and lay back down, remembering the relief, the joy, the return of hope as he had swept by some unfortunate victim and saved them from a terrible fate. He remembered Lois’s voice telling him good night.

It was great to be back.

He yawned for the third time in as many minutes and turned onto his side. He curled up slightly, then closed his eyes, content as he drifted off to sleep.

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The nap didn’t do much good. A few minutes before eight Clark came into work— exhausted, favoring his right leg slightly, but still grinning. He waved to his coworkers as he passed, then plopped down at his desk and picked up the morning edition of The Daily Planet. His eyebrows lifted at the massive headline.

“FLASH BACK! Superhero Hits Metropolitan Streets.”

The article went on to tell how Flash, the superhero from Central City—who hadn’t been seen in Metropolis for about three years now—had apparently gone on a rescue spree during the night. Those saved had seen hardly a blur before the gust of wind had made him vanish again. No one had yet been able to contact the hero to find out the reason for his visit, and by the sound of things the Flash had already sped back to Central City and was carrying on with his business as usual there.

Clark set down the paper, wondering if there might be some time to track down the speedster and explain some of the situation to him so he might accept the credit. That is, if the other superhero could be trusted. Clark didn’t want anyone else knowing that Superman had been without his powers, especially for so long.

He glanced at the clock, seeing that Lois was due any minute now, and figured he’d go get coffee for her and himself at the same time. He turned in his seat, whistling a senseless tune to himself as he picked up the hardcopy of their latest article of Bureau 39’s complete fall from his desk, and some preliminary notes on the Primaries. He looked down and was beginning to scan the words as he stood to get Lois’s coffee, but bumped right into someone passing by his desk.

He almost dropped some of the papers he had been flipping through, but managed to keep the pile whole, if a bit ruffled. He blinked up at none other than Lex Luthor, his grin dropping off his face and splashing into the floor with hardly a ripple.

“Excuse me, Mr. Kent,” Luthor said with a thin-lipped smile, clearly perturbed to have been bumped into so clumsily. He was holding a bouquet of roses, which were now slightly rumpled by Clark’s gracelessness.

“E-excuse me,” Clark stuttered, taking a step back and bumping into his desk. He had been about to set the papers down, but as he looked into the cold eyes before him his grip tightened over them as he held them close, almost protectively.

“Can I…help you with something, Mr. Luthor?” he asked, his voice intentionally mild rather than the defensive tone that he longed to shout out. What was the man doing here?

Lois had called him. What had happened the night before? Clark’s spirit quivered with protectiveness at the thought of Luthor hurting Lois in even the slightest bit—even the smallest, tiniest little insult . . .

He had already hurt both of them too much.

“No. I’m just waiting for Miss Lane,” Luthor said dismissively, somehow looking down his nose at Clark even while Clark stood a good three inches above him even without standing completely straight.

Right on cue, Lois swept out of the elevator. Two sets of dark eyes watched her as she strode forward—one set glittering, the other almost reverent.

Lois seemed oblivious at first. She was likewise busy flipping through some papers as she walked. She stepped down the stairs, somehow using her sixth sense to dodge a cart laden with papers and no less than three coworkers without even faltering in her step or looking up.

She glanced up at the bottom of the stairs, however, and for a moment her expression froze as she caught sight of the two of them.

Fear? Anger? Annoyance? Or just pure Lois Lane determination? The emotions darted so quickly that even Clark barely caught a glimpse of each before it was gone, and he was left not exactly sure what he had seen.

It was only a moment, though, before all emotion vanished into a blank expression and was quickly replaced by slight annoyance. Lois stepped forward again, tucking the papers under her arm as she went.

She brushed past the both of them—mild reporter and rich billionaire the same—and set her purse on her desk before turning towards Luthor. She looked at him for a moment, then gave a smile which was not exactly unfriendly, but certainly looked tired. Clark frowned, wondering what that meant.

“Hi, Lex. Thanks again for dinner last night, but I really am busy today.”

“A woman with your drive would rarely be otherwise,” Luthor said smoothly. He flourished the roses with a twist of his hand. “My apologies again for last night, Lois. In truth, I was hoping we could reschedule, and do something more adventurous, perhaps, as is fitting for yourself. Dinner in Paris, perhaps?”

Clark’s eyebrows lifted, and he felt his heart clench as he stopped himself from stepping forward and neatly putting Lex Luthor through the nearest window. Lois didn’t know. She just didn’t understand what sort of man Luthor was, or how dangerous he was.

He wouldn’t let him hurt Lois again.

But what had happened last night?

Lois frowned slightly. “I—I don’t know, Lex,” she said, turning on her computer. She sat down and looked up at the man. He looked even worse than the night before. “Are you feeling all right?”

Clark hadn’t noticed it in his distraction, but Lois was right. Luthor had shadows under his eyes, and his eyes seemed almost feverish. His skin was almost stark white, as if his natural color had been leached right out of him. In fact, he looked a bit green.

“I am quite well,” Luthor said, waving his hand as if to banish an irritating insect, though he certainly looked quite unwell. Clark was sure the man thought even that slightest weakness an abomination in himself, and felt slightly smug despite himself.

Served the man right.

The thought quickly turned dark. Lex Luthor deserved so much more…

No. Clark wouldn’t let his thoughts go there. It was in the past. Luthor would be revealed for his crimes, and thrown in jail, but Clark had to let it go. The memories could only drag him down.

Lois . . .

Except for the thoughts of Lois. Lois, sitting beside him and holding his hand. Little mother hen Lois, bristling at the thought of anyone coming close to her pet superhero. Little jokes. Hope in the darkness. Even the smallest bit of hope had seemed so brilliantly colorful and yet so comfortingly soft in that sharp white sphere of despair and nothingness . . .

Clark brought his eyes to the present and looked at Lois as she looked up at Luthor. Angel and demon, standing in a face off. She was still so brilliant—his personal beam of sunlight on a cloudy day.

Lois. His guardian angel. If only she knew how much she meant to him.

You have to tell her.

Clark swallowed, catching hold of the voice in his head. He knew he had to tell her. Lois said they were going to lunch today so they could talk. Clark would suggest takeout, and take her to a nice little corner in Central Park where they shouldn’t be disturbed. Then, he’d . . . tell her . . .

The thought made his mouth go dry, and his palms grew damp, but he repeated the thought firmly.

He’d tell her.

Lois, I’m Superman.

Lois. There’s something I’ve been wanting . . . needing to tell you. I’m Superman.

Lois, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

She might be angry. She could very well never speak to him again, and that made him quiver.

But no. He trusted her. He trusted her more than he trusted himself. She had shown her faithfulness and loyalty a thousand times over. He would trust her, even with his own soul. And then when she called for him at night, he could come. He wouldn’t have to hide any more.

And maybe . . .

Maybe she’d just look at him, and take his hand and draw him close and murmur his name. Clark.

And he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

Clark took a shaking breath at the thought. He loved her so much.

But how could she trust him? How could she forgive him? He may not have lied, but after everything that went between them . . . he hadn’t told her the whole truth.

Lois, I’m a coward.

Lois, I need you. I need your help.

Lois, I want to be here for you. I love you.

He prayed she wouldn’t turn him away, even for a moment in anger. He didn’t know if his spirit could take it.

Lois, I’m Superman.

Lois . . .

Clark was brought out of his thoughts when Lois suddenly looked at him with narrowed eyes, and he realized he’d been staring at her, though his mind had completely missed the last bit of the conversation. His stomach felt a little uneasy, and his heart was pounding with dread—but it was oddly overlaid with a tender pain as he looked at Lois. He was willing to trust her.

“Do you mind, Kent? Or in small towns do they not have a word for ‘private conversations’?”

Clark flushed and adjusted his glasses. “I’m . . . s-sorry, Lois.”

The apology just made Lois’s eyes narrow further. She was practically shooting daggers at him.

“Go get me some coffee. No cream, one sugar,” Lois ordered.

Clark nodded and left obediently, though he was inwardly reluctant to distance himself from Lois’s side or to leave his train of thought. Conflicting and tortuous as they may be to himself, it was a wonderful sort of pain to think of Lois, even if the thought of her was accompanied with fear, doubt, and terrible memories.

Besides, he didn’t want to leave her and Lex alone.

He dismissed the automatic answer of eavesdropping with a slightly guilty hesitation. He was Superman. He couldn’t take advantage of them like that. Lois could tell him later.

Part of him was certainly glad to go, though. Being around Luthor made him feel physically ill. His hands were shaking slightly as he walked towards the coffeemakers, and his brow was slightly damp from sweat., and he didn’t think it was entirely from his thoughts of telling Lois.

Really…he wasn’t that nervous because of the man. But his churning stomach told him otherwise.

Lois waited until Clark had left before turning to Lex. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she said.

“I had a particularly…rough treatment this morning, but I am well. The results are optimistic, at this point.” He shook his head, offering the flowers again. “But that is not why I came, Lois.”

Lois took the roses, though was careful not to touch his fingers with her own. The very thought made her shudder. She looked down at the bouquet. She wasn’t sure where she was going to put them, seeing as she had the large bouquet at home and her desk was as cluttered as ever . . .

She glanced back at her desk and stopped in mid-thought. She hadn’t noticed it right off, but her desk was clean. Pristine, but for a tall, but straight stack of nicely organized papers safely off to the side.

Clark Kent strikes again.

Lois blinked at it, but then remembered that she was talking with Lex. She yanked her thoughts back on track. “Thanks, Lex, but you really didn’t have to.”

“Tomorrow, Lois,” Lex said. “Tomorrow afternoon, I can have a limousine pick you up. Dinner in Paris, my dear.”

Lois hesitated a moment. “Lex…I don’t want to lead you on. I’m…really not ready for a serious relationship right now.”

Lex stopped cold at that. “What?”

Lois rushed to explain, feeling hot and cold at the same time. “I just don’t have the time. Things are just so crazy, and…going to Paris…I’d be lucky if I could go to Paris on my honeymoon—”

“It could all be arranged, Lois,” Lex said softly.

Lois stared, taken aback by his forwardness, and feeling a little nauseous at the same time. She opened her mouth and closed it before finding her voice again. “Lex,” she said, firmly. “We may have had dinner a couple times, but…we hardly know each other.”

Lex took a step forward, and Lois felt her heart quicken and she backed up against the desk behind her. What was taking Clark so long? Lois couldn’t keep this conversation friendly much longer, and he would be the perfect excuse to cut it short.

“Have you ever,” Lex began, his voice soft, “felt as if you were watching a person from afar? Felt as if you knew their soul, even if you didn't know all of the facts of their lives? I know you, Lois. I know you better than you can imagine.”

Lois’s mouth was dry and she felt as if the blood had drained right from her face. Recovery. She had to recover her balance. She couldn’t let him throw her off. He couldn’t know.

“Maybe in a couple weeks, Lex. I really need to work on this series.” There. Her voice was calm and firm—perfect Lois Lane.

Lex frowned, but stepped back and reached over to Clark’s desk and lifted a folded copy of the morning paper. Lois had the odd impulse to stand and grab the paper from his hand. It was Clark’s paper, and Luthor didn’t have a right to touch it. Of course, that was an odd thought. Even considering if he was a crime lord, it was just a paper, and it didn’t matter if it was Clark’s or not, for goodness sakes!

“I can’t tell you how disappointed I am to hear that,” Luthor said, and sounded honestly regretful. It made Lois shiver unpleasantly as she jerked out of her tangent thoughts. He made a show of scanning over the paper. “It is nice, however, that we have a spare superhero to drop in while our own is missing.”

Lois sat up straight at that. “What?”

Lex glanced at her from over the paper. “My dear, haven’t you read?” He folded the paper so the top of the fold shouted the headline boldly and handed it to her. “The Flash apparently graced our streets last night. Strange, certainly, but who are we to question such beings?” He handed the paper to her and Lois set down the roses to take it. She stared at the headline. “Well, my dear, I really must be going. You will hear from me.” He glanced at her, but Lois’s eyes were locked on the paper.

Superhero Hits Metropolitan Streets.

“Goodbye, my dear.”

Lois’s eyes didn’t leave the paper. “Bye, Lex,” she replied perfunctorily. Lex watched her for a moment, then smiled slightly to himself before turning away towards the elevator.

The Flash? But why would the Flash be in Metropolis?

Lois scanned the article, then set her notes and the paper down and turned to her computer to do a quick Internet search. After sorting through a number of miscellaneous news articles, she found a small piece of a rescue in Central City by the Flash around two o’clock Metropolitan time last night—who had stayed around for an extra moment to talk to the police and almost-victim after the rescue, as was his custom.

The hero doing the saving in Metropolis around the same time last night hadn’t stayed around. No one had gotten a clear view of him. He had just come and gone, like that.

Certainly not like the Flash. It just wasn’t . . . flashy enough.

Two men were reported with injuries, however. One man who had attacked a woman in an alley had a concussion and a broken hand—apparently from the earliest rescue of the night—and the second was a single broken finger a gunman who had been attempting a robbery at a gas station.

Whoever had been doing the saving hadn’t slowed even to be careful not to hurt whoever he was disarming.

Whoever it had been hadn’t wanted to be seen, not by human eye, and especially not by a camera. The shot from the surveillance camera in the gas station had given nothing more than a light grey blur.

Superman?

Could it have been him? But then why was he hiding?

Lois’s heart ached for the reasons that immediately popped into her head. He was scared. He was alone, after all. It was miraculous that he didn’t fly off right now and find himself a new planet where its inhabitants would be more grateful for his presence.

Oh, Kal-El…

She was there for him. She needed him, stubborn fool!

Hurt. Worry. Pain. Anger. Tears.

“You all right, Lois?”

Lois started as Clark set her coffee down at her elbow. She frowned at it, then at him. “Where have you been?” With her talk with Luthor and her search, Clark had to have been gone for at least ten minutes.

Clark shrugged and shifted awkwardly. “Just…you know.”

“Hm,” Lois grunted, not satisfied, but her mind already taking off on more important things. She hesitated, though. “Are you okay, Clark? You don’t look so well yourself.”

Clark didn’t feel so good. He had heard a call for help as he had been getting his and Lois’s coffee, and hadn’t wasted time darting down the stairway to the streets below and blurring towards the robbery, but whether it was because of the long night, the cloudy day, or the lack of sleep, his speed had seemed considerably slower, and his arm and leg throbbed unpleasantly. He had been forced to catch the bullets of robbers to save one of the cops, and the contact of the bullet had actually hurt.

He needed sunlight, but the clouds hadn’t parted since his return to Metropolis. His best hope was that it was supposed to clear up that afternoon. He would just have to hold on until then.

“I’m fine, Lois,” he said, curling his sore fingers around a bruised palm gingerly. For a moment there he had been afraid that the bullets might actually break right through his hand. As it was, they had left a sharp red and purple mark which was rapidly darkening to a painful blue-black hue.

Lois frowned up at him for a moment, leaning back in her chair. “Jealously does not suit you, Clark,” she said, taking a small sip from her steaming coffee.

Clark was brought out of his thoughts and he blinked at her. He gave a sheepish grin. “It’s not that, Lois,” he said. “It’s just…you know. Luthor.” He shivered. “I—you know how I feel about him. He…he’s dangerous, Lois.”

Clark took a deep breath. The churning of his stomach had passed, but he certainly had felt uneasy around Luthor when he had been here. After all, Clark still had very strong suspicions that Lex Luthor was the Boss behind Bureau 39. The man certainly had the money and means, and from what Clark knew about his long reach, it probably wouldn’t have been too hard for him to slip those men in jail a little poison.

Erasing all of his tracks.

He knew he was heartless enough. He knew he had the means. He knew he had the motives, too.

Lex Luthor had always hated Superman.

Lois frowned a bit thoughtfully. “I know,” she said. She leaned back, looking out the window or beyond. “Clark, what would you think if I were to say that I think that Lex Luthor was our big boss we’ve been looking for?”

Clark was in the middle of a yawn—he was really tired!—and he stopped and started at her. In his current state of mind he could have misheard her, or something.

“What?”

“You know, what if Lex Luthor was the Boss behind Bureau 39? The man certainly has the money and means, and money in the underground means power. It probably wouldn’t have been too hard for him to slip those men in jail a little poison. And if you were right about him and all the other criminal activities you think he’s been up to, then he certainly has motive to support a group against Superman.”

Clark stared at her. It was a complete turnaround from her usual angle. He half-expected her to suddenly burst out and rant at him for daring to still believe such a thing after everything. But no. She was just watching him, as if actually waiting for a response.

A response to a statement that had run parallel to Clark’s thoughts only a second before.

The woman was a walking miracle.

Can you read my mind? he wondered. Lois seemed too caught up in her thoughts, and didn’t even glance at him.

“Well, uh, Lois,” Clark said. “He has enough money, but…”

“But? But what?” Lois snapped, suddenly irritated. “You aren’t going to start defending him, are you? I mean, you were the one that was so big on him having the double identity in the first place.”

Clark flinched. “Of course not, Lois.”

Lois relaxed at that. “Good,” she said, and turned to grab the papers she had brought in with her. “I’ve been up since five looking all of this stuff up. Here.” She pulled out a dog-eared, tattered, and heavily-marked packet of paper. “There’s your little list of hunches on Luthor. Now I’ve looked up some of the stuff and found some decent information, but you’re going to have to tell me where you got the ideas for some of this.”

Clark felt as if Lois were the one with moving at superspeed. His mind was struggling to catch up.

“W-what?”

Lois shoved his list of Luthor’s finances into his hands. “Your notes,” she said. “I need to know what you have on him. You got your hunches from somewhere, didn’t you? You’re not psychic.” She frowned. “And get your chair over here. I’m going to get a sore neck looking up at you.”

Clark opened his mouth, but was still trying to process what was going on. How could Lois turn around so quickly? What had happened last night?

He retrieved his chair obediently and sat down by Lois, watching her.

“Lois,” Clark asked, hesitantly. “Did…did something happen between, you know—you and Luth—uh, Lex?”

Lois glared at him. “It’s not like we were seriously dating, Clark. During dinner last night he mentioned something about Metro Physics being incorporated into LexLabs, and I remembered reading something about that from your list.”

There was no need to tell him the truth—that she had had a near panic-attack, if not a full-blown panic-attack—at the mere thought that the things that Clark had said about Lex were true, and she had jumped to conclusions from there. Of course, she had woken up early that morning with a much clearer head, but in typical Lois Lane fashion had dived in and soon found enough evidence that maybe Clark Kent wasn’t as crazy as she had thought. “From there…well, I guess it was just the key that switched my reporter’s instinct back on, and since then I found a bunch of stuff that pointed in the same direction.”

Clark closed his eyes, remembering the screams that had brought him to find the co-owner, Dr. Anderson, convulsing on the ground, his secretary helpless at his side. There had been nothing Clark could do, and there hadn’t been anything found wrong with the body. It was just a heart attack.

But Clark had known Dr. Anderson, and if it wasn’t all that well, it was still enough. The doctor had been as healthy as a thirty-year old, despite being in his sixties, and then he had just fallen over and died.

With some research, Clark had found that one of Anderson’s new lab assistants had been an old employee to LexCorp, but had been fired after being suspected on some drug runs by the dock. Clark hadn’t been able to find any hard proof, but he had known Luthor had an eye on Metro Physics, and when he had confronted Luthor about it the man had just…smirked.

Not evidence enough for court, certainly but enough for Clark to put another very black mark against Luthor’s name.

“Look,” Lois said, taking hold of her large stack of papers. “New Zealand. A branch of LexCorps owns a strip of land off the north coast—just out of the estimated danger zone for tsunamis. It took me forever to track it down. If Superman hadn’t stopped that tsunami, then the whole coast would have been wiped out, and Lexville would have been able to sweep in and buy up much of the ruined land for a pittance of food, shelter, or whatever. He could buy up miles of his own beachfront property for almost nothing.”

Clark made a face. “Lexville?”

Lois rolled her eyes in frustration. “So I made it up, but no doubt he has the ego to do such a thing.” She leaned forward, her eyes suddenly intent on him. “The point is, Clark, is how did you know?”

Clark blinked at her. “P-pardon?”

“Right there, on your paper.” She turned a couple pages and found it quickly.

Failed tsunami warning. Tampered?

Clark swallowed. He had never meant for anyone to see this paper but himself. He was just glad he hadn’t written anything more incriminating.

“How did you find out about that?”

He had flown to the buoys, of course. It looked like a simple malfunction on one, or maybe some boat accident or a blown wire in another…but all of them had been that way. That sort of coincidence just didn’t happen on its own. Intergang and Luthor had been at the top of his list, but once he discovered Luthor’s land ownership in the area, he had become top suspect.

But he couldn’t tell Lois that. Not here.

His mouth felt suddenly dry.

Lois had been watching him through narrowed eyes. “I should have known,” she said, her voice suddenly very calm. It set off warning bells in Clark’s mind.

“S-sorry?”

Lois leaned forward, and her voice lowered. Her eyes shone. “Superman helped you with this, didn’t he? I knew you couldn’t have come up with all of this on your own.”

Clark swallowed. “A-actually, Lois, I—” Lois waited. “R-remember how we were going to have lunch today? You know—so we could talk?”

Lois sat up stiffly. “Don’t change the subject, Kent!” she snapped. “So. It was Superman. He’s been feeding you information. That’s it, isn’t it? It was Superman’s idea all along that Lex Luthor was some sort of twisted crime lord.”

Lois sounded so smug, and Clark protested. “A-actually, Lois, it was my idea.”

Lois, I am Superman.

“Right,” Lois said, flipping through her papers. “I knew you couldn’t have figured something out that I didn’t if we were on a level playing field. I mean, you had to have more information than I did, right? And you might have good instincts, but you just don’t have as much experience as I do. I wouldn’t miss something this big that was right under my nose. He was too well hidden. It took Superman to figure him out!”

Clark didn’t know what to say. Lois just wasn’t listening, but what she was saying wasn’t exactly untrue either. If she had the information he had, Clark certainly agreed that she would have figured Luthor out by now.

“So he’s been working with you all along?”

Clark shrugged uncomfortably. “Lois. Can we talk about this later?”

Lois’s eyes widened suddenly and she glanced quickly left and right. Her face grew more somber. “Right. I get it. I know it’s . . . not safe,” she said, her voice suddenly a whisper. She glanced down at the papers and paused, frowning. “Why didn’t he tell me, if he knew? I would have believed him. ”

Clark winced, feeling almost physical pain at that. Lois didn’t seem to notice the effect of her words, but was now looking out the window, but her eyes were far away.

Clark cleared his throat and started awkwardly, fingering the tender bruise on the palm of his hand. “I guess he figured that, well, since we were partners and all, I’d be the one to tell you. Since you didn’t believe me…”

Lois was frowning. “But he’s Superman,” she emphasized. “Of course I would have believed him. He doesn’t lie.”

Clark looked away. He didn’t lie either, he wanted to defend himself. Not any more than Superman, anyway. He looked back at Lois with half of a smile. “Well, maybe I should have given you my scout’s honor,” he tried to joke.

Lois looked at him and softened the slightest bit. She actually reached forward and put a hand over his, and he went still, then turned his palm slightly so she couldn’t see the sore bruise. Her hand was soft and warm, and he wanted nothing more than to take her hand in his and never let go.

“Listen, Clark. I guess I owe you an apology. You’re…you’re a nice guy and all, too, but…you know? You’re human. You get jealous. You’re irrational at times. It just happens, all right? I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, but you just aren’t Superman, and there’s no way you could have known these things, and there’s no way I could have known you knew these things.”

Clark couldn’t help it. “Superman’s not perfect either, Lois,” he said softly.

Lois immediately pulled back her hand, and her eyes took on a steely glint. “I don’t want to hear it, Smallville.” She put the papers in her desk drawer and stood. “Come on. We’ll go over the missing details that Superman gave you when we get back.”

She grabbed her purse and started forward.

“W-what?” Clark asked, standing and pushing his chair back to his desk. “Where are we going?”

“To talk to Bobby Bigmouth,” Lois said. “I was planning on talking to him anyway, but…something else has come up. Come on.”

Clark stood and followed after her. Lois glanced back at him.

“Are you limping?”

Clark stiffened slightly, and the limp that had been becoming more pronounced vanished. He flushed. “Uh…well…It’s really okay, Lois.”

“What did you do?”

Clark swallowed. “I went running last night. I guess I…took it a little too hard.”

Lois gave him an odd look. “Running, Kent? Somehow I just can’t picture that.”

Clark shrugged, and they stepped into the elevator and headed to the ground floor.

TBC…

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