This story started out as a 'guess the author' challenge fic, but I got involved with NaNo and put it aside. In the midst of family stuff, computer viruses and getting a late start, I've put NaNo off and decided to finish this one.

Many thanks goes to Carol Moncado for her brainstorming and cheerleading! This is my own personal 'NaNo' and I will have it finished by the end of the week!


Sex, Lies, and Clark


Lois stared daggers at her partner's empty desk.

This time he hadn't even bothered to give her one of his less than lame excuses for running off. Only a simple wave of his hand, and he was tugging at his tie and bolting towards who-knows-where. Another dentist appointment? A video that needed returning? A spider that he'd forgotten to remove from his apartment?

What would he come up with this time after hours, or perhaps, even days of being missing in action?

Plus, she was tired of all the whispers and sympathetic glances from her co-workers when Clark very publicly left her standing with her mouth open like a fish out of water. Maybe it was time to do something about this passive humiliation from her *supposedly* best friend and partner. Sure, when he was around, he was very attentive to her every need; he was the only partner she could ever stand to work with; and he made her laugh like no one had ever done before... Or made her mad!

She plied her crumbling defensive walls with reinforced steel concrete, and grunted loudly. Nope! 'Mister SneakIntoTheBackdoorWhileYourDefensesWereDownClarkChameleonKent' wasn't going to get to her this time. No way! No how! Not if she had any say in the matter. And what did he say to her long ago - 'You're an investigative reporter, Lois. Investigate!' Well, let his words come back to bite him in the butt, because that was exactly what she was going to do.

Jimmy flew past her desk, but wasn't quite successful when Lois grabbed the strap of his camera, halting him abruptly, and sending the files he was toting everywhere. Jimmy tugged his neck in an attempt to breathe. "Geez, Lois!" he wheezed, "If you wanted something..."

"Jimmy!" Lois cut him off. "I need you do some research, but you can't let Perry know what you're doing until I know exactly what we're looking for. We'll know it when we see it, comprende?"

"Um, Lois?"

"Now, don't interrupt. Can you hack into the personnel files here at the Planet? Of course, you can. Now I want you to get into the health claims and find any claim that Kent has filed. That includes dentist, eye doctor, chiropractor, even sports medicine. God knows how he keeps his body...." Lois broke off and frowned at that renegade thought.

"Lois, I don't think..."

"No, you don't think. I do." Lois gave him one of her winning smiles. "Please, Jimmy. I'll explain later. This is important."

He shifted nervously on his feet, and sighed in defeat. He knew when he was beat before he'd even begun to argue. This was Lois Lane. You didn't argue; you obeyed, down to the last letter, 'i's dotted and 't's crossed. "Okay, Lois, but if I get fired..."

"I'll hire you as my personal assistant."

"You mean personal slave..."

"Jimmy..." Lois growled.

"I'm on it."

After Jimmy had picked up his dropped files and left, Lois casually strolled over to Clark's desk. Surely, he would leave behind some kind of paper trail. As she casually rummaged through his desk drawer, she found a paper trail all right! Junk food wrappers, a hefty supply of Twinkies and Ding Dongs, and a partially-eaten donut stuck to a napkin. Another drawer was opened up, and Lois screwed up her face in disgust. Two shiny foil wrappers stuck out at her like love handles on Superman. Seeing a small scribbled note beneath the traitorous objects, she pushed them aside with a chewed pencil and read: ‘Way to go, CK! Have *fun* on your weekend with the DA. Jimmy

Men! She felt more than a prick of jealousy at the thought of Clark having those in his possession. Especially since they were intended for *that* weekend – a weekend that he had stood up Mayson. But still there were these *things* in Clark’s desk drawer, and Jimmy had to get the idea somewhere that Mayson and Clark were at bit more than casually dating. Women didn’t invite men overnight places without having a clue about their feelings. Sure, Clark was a mild-mannered gentleman, but certainly he wouldn’t be stringing both of them along at the same time. There had to be more between Clark and Mayson than he was letting on. Perhaps *she* was the reason that Clark kept running out on her!

Oh god! She’s was losing him! To a long-legged python with blond hair!

If Mayson Drake dropped off the earth five minutes ago, it would have been too soon for her! Maybe it was time she took the bull by the horns – or the reporter by the tie - and asked *him* out… No! Not before she found out why he kept running out on her. Her determination renewed, she continued her search.

Then she found something that was better than a paper trail. After examining it a bit closer, a smile formed on her lips. Bingo! She had him!

******

Lois closed the door to her apartment and sagged against it. Even though she'd had a very successful afternoon of tracking down witnesses in support of her theory, she was becoming more confused than ever. Just where was Clark when he ran off on her?

It wasn't that she didn't trust him - she'd trusted him with her life on many occasions and relied on his unwavering presence in her life. Every time it counted, Clark had been there for her - supporting her, comforting her, and giving her strength to get through life's rollercoaster ride. It was hard to imagine her life without him. They shared practically everything together. Shared everything - except what he did when he ran out on her.

Those excuses were just that - plain, old fabricated lies. To. Her.

She pulled the object out of her coat pocket and with played with it. Even these were a big, fat lie. She'd have to procure another pair just to make certain, but evidence was plain and simple. Another lie.

Placing the glasses on her face, Lois saw as plainly as she did without them. They slid down her nose and she pushed them up thoughtfully - just like he did, she mused.

But why? Why would he wear glasses without a prescription? What would possess a handsome; no, devastatingly gorgeous man like Clark to wear glasses? As a matter of fact, she'd never seen him without them on. Even during one of their late night movie fests when they'd happen to doze off cuddled on the sofa, he'd never bothered to remove them. Just what was he hiding behind those glasses, and did it have anything to do with his full-of-holes excuses?

Well, anyway, her witnesses were lined up and ready to proceed with her plan to nail Clark to the bullpen's wall.

The phone ringing jarred her from her thoughts. "Lois. It's Jimmy," he murmured glumly. "I still don't like this - investigating CK - but I did find out a few things."

"What did you find?" Lois answered.

"Well, I'm working from home. I thought it'd be safer this way. Anyway, CK hasn't filed any health claims with the Planet's insurance policies. Nothing! Nada!" Jimmy laughed quietly. "Guess the guy's as healthy as a horse."

"Guess Ding Dongs and Ho Ho's are the secret to the universe," Lois mused, thinking of that perfect physique underneath obnoxious ties and business suits.

"Huh? Ding Dongs?" Jimmy asked confused.

"Oh, never mind."

"But get this!” he continued eagerly. “In the last couple of months, CK's taken out a couple of huge life insurance policies, *and* he's made a living will. One of the policies will be paid out to his parents, and..."

“And what?” Lois asked impatiently.

“I’m not sure I should be saying this. It really is up to CK to tell you,” he waffled.

“Spill it, Jimmy!”

"And the other one is for you."

Lois could barely hear her co-worker prattle on as the proverbial ball dropped. Clark had named her as a benefactor upon his death? Of course, his parents were the logical choice to receive any benefits; Clark was that type of guy to want to make certain that his folks were provided for. Being an investigative reporter was a semi-dangerous line of work, but why would he do this for her?

She knew that Clark cared for her. Their relationship was so… undefined. More than partners, more than best friends, but neither of them had made any steps to take it one step further. Not too many months ago, he’d told her in the park that he loved her… was in love with her. She had been so blind to turn him away then – only telling him she did love him, but like a brother.

Then he had retracted his declaration of love outside the Daily Planet, right before she was going to suggest that maybe she had been too hasty in turning him down. She was so high maintenance with her emotions, no wonder he was so gun shy! Keeping Lois Lane happy meant not rocking the boat! Keep all oars in the water and tread very carefully! Maybe this policy he’d taken out for her meant that he still cared deeply for her, but was the only way he could show it, even if he never told her about it.

Her mind did some quick math. A couple of months ago. That was right after Clark had been shot in Georgie Hairdo's gambling den. Her eyes pricked with tears as she remembered the heart shattering emptiness she'd felt when she thought she'd lost him forever. After he'd come back to her - alive - she'd almost admitted to Clark - and herself - how much she'd miss him... how much she lo...

"Lois?" An annoying voice chirped in her ear. Jimmy? She'd forgotten Jimmy!

"Sorry, Jimmy," she answered as casually as she could manage. "I've got to go. Thanks for the info."

"But what are you going to do about CK and the insurance policy? You’re not going to tell him I dug this up about him. Why..."

She cut him off abruptly. "I'll explain later, but you've got to promise - not a word to Clark about this." Softening her voice, she pleaded, "Please Jimmy. Trust me."

Lois heard him sigh on the other end of the phone line. "Please..." she added, disliking the fact she had to placate her younger co-worker.

"Okay, Lois. I'll trust you."

"Thanks Jimmy."

She hung up the phone and sank down on the floor as a tumble of confused thoughts and feeling assailed her. What had started out as a plan to confront Clark about all his lame excuses had now turned into something much more disturbing and way more complicated than what she had bargained.

No health claims? Nothing to support all his on-the-fly explanations of why he had to suddenly drop everything and leave her at once? Why didn’t he get checked out by a doctor after being shot dead?

Unless…

It was another reason to lie to her.

But how could he have *not* been killed? She’d been no more than three feet away and *saw* him shot point blank, and hauled away by those terrible gangsters. But they had never found his body, and magically, by some scientific miracle, he reappears full of life like he’d never been through something so horrific.

So assuming the impossible, Lois made a checklist in her head.

Clark hadn't died that day.

Clark didn't need to wear glasses.

Clark made excuses like bunnies made more bunnies... and with more rabbit holes than a whole forest!

There was one source that she could get to confirm this theory. Lois picked up the phone and asked for information. Once she received the number she needed, she held her breath and dialed.

"Dr. Hamilton?" Lois spoke with more confidence than she felt. "This is Lois Lane from the Daily Planet."

"Ah, yes, Ms. Lane! You're well, I presume?" His nervousness could be detected by the tremor in his voice.

"Doctor, I'm sure you remember our little run in with your criminal experiment."

"How could I forget? Terrible! Terrible!" he wailed. "Never should have played with Mother Nature."

"Calm down, Doctor. I just have a couple of questions to ask you and it has nothing to do with any investigation, or story, or petty revenge." Lois paused for a moment. "Just hear me out and answer me honestly."

"Okay, Ms Lane. I'll see what I can do."

Taking a deep breath, she continued, "That night after Superman rescued us from the cement, my partner, Clark Kent came back. Alive. He'd been shot point blank in front of me and died right there on the floor of the club. Do you remember that?"

"Uh, yes I do."

"Clark told us that night that Superman used the notes from your research to reconstruct the healing process to bring him back to life. You even agreed that freezing Clark with his super breath would have preserved his tissues. Now, here's the most important question: Do you still stand by that theory?"

"Oh, my my! No, I'm afraid that was impossible, because the notes in my laboratory were a fake. I had the real ones stuffed under my shirt because I wanted to destroy them before we were found hiding in my lab. Now they are suitably encrusted in cement sitting as a paper weight on my desk. It’s a grim reminder not to stick my research where it doesn't belong.” After slowing down his rapid answer, the doctor heaved a sigh of regret. “I suppose being almost encased in concert gave me leave of my senses. It simply wouldn’t work."

"So how did Clark return from the dead?" she asked almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Simple. It was either a miracle, or he never died at all. I believe you're going to have to ask your partner that question," Hamilton stated matter of factly. "Pardon me, but my beaker is bubbling."

"Thank you, Doctor."

So Clark never died.... he lied... again! And it seemed that he and Superman were as thick as thieves!

******