Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Accused (2/15)

From Part 1

Clark felt the claw of concern close around his throat, strangling him. He had never told Lana he loved her. He hadn't loved her then, and he certainly didn't love now. Could it be possible she really thought they had an agreement? Or was this an act, solely for Mayson's benefit? "Lana, we didn't -"

"You always pretend to be so pure and principled, Clark," Lana screamed. "But you're just like the rest. A woman with passably OK legs and a face that isn't completely cringe-worthy slinks into your life and twitches her tight little butt at you, and you -"

Clark grasped Lana's shoulders and tried to meet her wildly thrashing eyes. "Calm down, Lana," he said, trying to sound firm despite keeping his volume low. "This isn't helping."

Her anger turned to tears - loud, howling sobs. "You don't understand, Clark," she shrilled. "I love you. I need you."

"Lana. We -"

"How could you, Clark?" she said, her question punctuated with loud sobs. "How could you break my heart?"

"Perhaps I should leave," Mayson said.

In a split second, Lana shed all the trappings of hysteria and gave Clark a frosty look that smeared foreboding through his body. "This isn't how I had planned to make this announcement, Clark," she said, "but you've left me with no choice."

She couldn't know his secret. Could she? They'd been together for a little under a year - a year when he'd still been adapting to his strange powers. "Lana -"

"I'm pregnant, Clark," Lana said. "With your baby."


Part 2

Lois Lane entered her apartment, dumped her suitcase on the floor, and collapsed onto her sofa, expelling a gush of relief that she was home.

It had been the most draining week of her life.

It had been like being forced to watch a movie - a movie that opened with the main character in a mire of trouble, moved on to give excruciating detail of all the previous events that had led to her current predicament, and then finished without the slightest attempt to offer a resolution or even a breath of hope for recovery.

Lois had spent the days caught in the web of her mother's alcohol-soaked animosity and despair.

She'd spent the nights snagged between disturbing dreams and awakened memories of years passed.

But the scariest thing of all had been the chilling insight that, in so many ways, Lois was travelling the exact same path that had delivered Ellen Lane into rehabilitation, isolated, angry, and utterly dispirited.

Lois had perfected the art of building walls to keep the rest of the world at bay. She knew they called her 'Mad Dog' behind her back, just as surely as she knew she would prefer they believe her to be cold and ruthless rather than risk anyone seeing the loneliness that seeped through her soul.

After bidding her mother goodbye - a quick kiss to a stony cheek and a tentative, unacknowledged smile - Lois had left the rehab centre feeling as if she were escaping from a prison.

As she had begun the long drive home, she had made her decision.

She was going to change.

She was.

She was going to stop building the walls. She was even going to try to allow a few cracks to appear in the ones that were already there. She was going to try to be open and honest with the people she cared about.

She was not going to let pride and fear fester to rancid bitterness and condemn her to a life lived alone.

Even if ...

Lois gulped down a sob.

Even if her epiphany had come too late to save her from her biggest mistake.

__|~|__

Clark's eyes dropped from Lana's face to sweep over her body as his lower jaw hung like a snapped twig. "But," he spluttered. "We didn't -"

"I know we didn't plan it, Clark, darling," Lana said with a saccharine smile. "But these things happen. And now, you're going to be a daddy."

"But -"

Lana cut across his protest and turned to Mayson, opening wide the fronts of Clark's jacket to reveal a slight protrusion under her dress. "So you see, Ms Drake, there can be no future to your little dalliance with Clark. He has responsibilities now. Responsibilities that don't include you."

Mayson's gaze - full of shock and condemnation - fell on Clark. "Is it true?" she asked.

"No, it's not -"

As the words of denial left his mouth, Lana's temper erupted. She thumped his arm. "No!" she screamed. "No! I won't let you do this to me. You're a hateful, unscrupulous, cheating lowlife, Clark Kent, and I wish I'd never met you."

"Clark?" Mayson said in clear expectation of an answer.

Deciding another denial was only going to exacerbate Lana's anger, Clark opted instead to try to telegraph his concern regarding her behaviour. "Mayson, would you mind?" he asked desperately. "I think Lana and I need to talk this out in private."

Mayson nodded tautly, her heels tapping a curt rhythm as she moved to the door. Once there, she turned. "I hope you're happy together," she said, although it seemed to Clark that her good wishes crackled with scorn.

"Of course we'll be happy together," Lana said, suddenly calm again. "Clark and I will be getting married and giving our baby a proper family."

Mayson pinned Clark with her eyes, waiting for him to speak, but his tongue felt cleaved to the roof of his mouth.

After what had seemed like a long time, Mayson nodded brusquely and strode through the door, slamming it behind her.

"Mayson," Clark called after her. He broke away from Lana and opened the still-vibrating door. "Mayson!"

She continued hurrying away from him, but his superhearing picked up the muffled sound of her sobs.

He sprinted to her. "Mayson!" He passed her and cautiously put out his hand, making sure he didn't contact her. "Mayson," he said, looking into her tear-stained cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she cried.

"I didn't know Lana was coming tonight."

"At least I understand why you could never be honest with me," Mayson said. She laughed, a harsh and angry sound. "Why you kept stringing me along without ever explicitly stating how you felt. You must have been secretly ridiculing me the whole time. Did you joke about me to your -"

"No," Clark said quickly. "I wasn't laughing at you. I -"

"Then why didn't you tell me there was someone else?"

Why hadn't he? Why hadn't he come right out and said he was in love with Lois? "This ..." He gestured feebly towards the door of his apartment. "This is not what it looks like."

Mayson dragged in a shuddery breath. "It looks like a man basking in one woman's attention while trying to wriggle out of his responsibilities to another woman."

"It's not true," Clark stated. "If Lana is pregnant, the baby isn't mine."

Mayson's eyes narrowed with scorn. "Why would she lie about it?"

"I don't know," Clark said. "Her behaviour is ... She's worrying me."

"Have you been dating her?"

"I haven't seen her since I moved to Metropolis over a year ago," Clark said, keeping his voice low and calm. "I don't know why she came here. I don't understand why she's saying those things about us."

"Then why didn't you tell her that?"

"I tried to," Clark said in his own defence. "And I'll continue to try to make her see reason. But I thought it might be easier if we were alone."

"*We* were alone, Clark," Mayson said bitterly. "We've been alone on quite a few occasions this past week, but you never got around the telling me the truth."

"It's *not* my child," Clark declared.

"I don't mean that," Mayson snapped. "I mean the fact that you will never be in love with me."

On that point, he deserved her resentment. "I didn't know how to tell you," he admitted.

"You had your chance to deny her claims. But you just stood there and hoped everything would magically fix itself. Just like you did with me."

He *had* denied Lana's claims. "Mayson," Clark said. "You saw her. She's not thinking straight. She's unstable."

"I thought you were a better man than to stoop to questioning a woman's mental state," Mayson said. "I thought you'd face your responsibilities."

Mayson didn't believe him. Clark didn't know what to say.

"Don't worry, I understand," Mayson said. "I *finally* understand. I won't bother you again." A tear escaped from her left eye and skittered down her cheek. Clark reached for her arm. She swung at his hand and swiped him away. "Don't touch me," she cried. "Don't ever come near me again."

She spun around and darted away. Clark watched her go as regret scorched his conscience.

He should have told her before now. In trying to avoid hurting her, he had compounded her humiliation.

But he couldn't have predicted that Lana would suddenly re-appear in his life.

And he certainly couldn't have predicted her allegation that he was the father of her child.

Clark turned and trudged back to his apartment.

He had to be direct with Lana.

He had to firm but gentle.

He didn't love her. He never would.

And he was *not* the child's father.

Clark stepped through the door to his apartment and closed it. Lana was sitting on the sofa, thumbing through his TV guide. He went over to her and crouched beside her. "Lana?" he said. "Are you all right?"

She looked up and gave him a glittering smile. "Now we have the whole evening together," she said brightly.

"I didn't make any promises to you," Clark said. "We broke up, we went to different colleges, we travelled separately, I moved to Metropolis; we both knew our relationship was over."

She shook her head as if he were a small child who had made a silly mistake. "We are meant to be together, Clark. We have a bond - a bond that can never be broken. We share secrets - things no one else knows about us."

Secrets? Clark searched her face as icy fingers of fear slithered through his stomach. What was Lana trying to tell him?

She gripped his arm, under his jacket, just above his wrist. He balled his hand into a fist to stop himself from drawing away. "It's OK, Clark," she said. "I won't tell your parents about you sowing some wild oats with that blonde hussy."

"We didn't -"

Her fingernails dug into his arm. "Don't lie to me, Clark," Lana said in a cold voice. "I may be able to overlook past indiscretions, but I will not tolerate being treated like a fool. You are never to see her again."

Clark figured that would suit Mayson just fine. "What do you want, Lana?" he said. "Why are you here?"

"I've already told you what I want. And I'm here to take what is mine."

He had to make a stand. "Lana, I don't love you."

"But you'll learn to love me again," she said. "You'll see that it's right for all three of us." She draped her other hand around his neck. "So? The restaurant? Or a quiet night in? You choose, darling."

"Lana, you know the baby isn't mine. I haven't seen you for over a year."

"It's yours now," she chirped.

"Lana, that's not how it works. You need help. And support. Have you told your parents? What about the father? Does he know you're pregnant?"

"I've chosen you to be the baby's father," Lana said with a smile. "I thought you would be honoured, Clark."

"I ... I am honoured that you think I would be a good father to your child," Clark said. "But it's not what I want."

She held his eyes for a long moment. "You've always wanted a family, Clark."

"Yes, but -"

"This is your only chance. You're a smart boy. Take it."

He had to be direct. Brutal, even. "I'm in love with someone else."

"The dim-witted blonde?"

Clark shook his head. "No. Someone else."

"Well, clearly she isn't in love with you or she would have stopped that scrawny woman from hanging around you like a cat in heat." Lana hooked her hand further around his neck. "But *I* want you, Clark. The baby and me - we want you. We are going to give you the family you've always dreamed about."

Clark clasped her forearm and removed her hand from his neck as he straightened to a standing position. "I'll call you a cab, Lana," he said, looking around for her suitcase. "You can go back to your hotel, and we'll talk about this tomorrow -"

"But Clark, I'm staying here," Lana said with lilted surprise. "Why would I book into a hotel when you have room here?"

"You are *not* -"

Lana leapt from the sofa, her hand gripped his jaw like a vice, and her eyes drilled into his as her face flooded his vision. "You forget who I am," she said. "You forget that I knew you before you became a high-flying city reporter."

Clark tried to smother his gasp. "Wh...what do you mean?" he asked as evenly as he could.

Her hand slipped away, but the unspoken threat hovered like smog. "I want you to accept my child as yours. I want you to marry me and help me raise the baby. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get what I want."

Alarm coursed through Clark. Had she guessed the connection between the at-times-inexplicable young man she had known in Smallville and Metropolis's superhero? "What are you talking about Lana?" he asked.

Her smile curdled. "We both know what I'm talking about, Clark. You're not the man you pretend to me ... and I imagine you *really* don't want that - quite sensitive - information made public."

While he was still dredging through his mind for a suitable response, *it* came.

The sound that - in so many ways - governed his life.

A cry for help. Someone needed Superman.

"Lana," he said, snatching at the first thought that entered his head. "I have to go out. My editor, Mr White, gave me a story today, and he wants me to have the research done by tomorrow."

Lana stared at him for a long moment, as if carefully measuring his words. "OK," she said.

"OK?" he gasped.

"Of course, it's OK. I expect there are things you need to see to - that other woman, for instance. You need to tell her that it's over between you. You need to inform your editor that you're moving back to Smallville. And I'm sure you're very eager to announce to your friends that you're going to be a father and invite them over to meet your fiancée."

The cry for help - the shrill voice of a frightened young child - came again, audible only to him. "I ... I have to go," he said.

Lana reached up to kiss his cheek. "Don't hurry," she said. "I have some unpacking to do. I didn't bring any extra clothes, because I'm sure there are hundreds of fashion stores in Metropolis and I know you'll want to provide for your wife. I had to bring this beautiful dress, of course. It's my favourite. And I brought all my skin care products from France, too. I simply couldn't be seen by anyone if I didn't have them."

Clark took her elbow and led her into his bedroom. "The bathroom is through there," he said. "Make yourself at home."

She smiled sweetly. "Of course, I will, darling. I *am* at home."

Clark scuttled away. Once back in the living room, he looked through the wall and saw Lana heading into the bathroom. He spun into the Suit and flew out of the balcony door and into the Metropolis night sky.

It took less than ten minutes for Superman to extricate the child from the depths of the disused drain. He handed the wet, cold, and shaken youngster to his mother, acknowledged her sobbed thanks, quickly answered a few questions from the gathered journalists, and flew away.

He floated above his apartment and looked down into it.

Lana had emptied his bathroom cabinet and was arranging an army of perfume bottles and makeup tubes on the shelves.

She was still wearing his leather jacket - a small detail that irritated him far more than was warranted. Somehow, it seemed ominously representative of her attempt to take over his life.

What was he going to do now?

There seemed little to be gained from confronting Lana again. She'd always been domineering and prone to emotionally charged outbursts when she didn't get her own way, but he'd sensed something different in her tonight.

Something ... irrational. Erratic. Unsettling.

And that was particularly disconcerting if her thinly veiled threat to expose him referred to Superman's secret identity.

Could she possibly know?

Clark thought back ... back to the year when he'd started a relationship with the bright hope that it could lead to the fulfilment of his dreams. The first few months had been good. He'd been so happy to have a girlfriend that he had been compliant putty in Lana's hands - in everything except the physical side of their relationship. He'd long before decided that he wasn't going to be intimate with a woman unless he trusted her enough to be completely honest with her.

And, even then, he'd been a long way from feeling right about trusting Lana with the truth.

But could she have figured it out? Could she have wondered about his occasional slips? His lame excuses? The unexplainable - a hay bale catching fire - that always seemed to happen in his presence?

When Superman had appeared in the skies of Metropolis, had she recognised him as being the clumsy teenager she had dated?

As Clark watched her, Lana positioned and then re-positioned her possessions in his cabinet. What did she know? What had she guessed? And how would she use it?

If only his superpowers included the ability to read minds.

She turned around and left the bathroom, standing at the foot of his bed and gazing around the room.

Before Clark could stop himself, he x-rayed her abdomen and saw it. *Him*. A tiny baby boy floating inside his mother's womb, oblivious to the turmoil happening around him.

Clark switched off his extra vision and shook his head, trying to delete the stolen image from his mind.

What was he going to do?

Lois.

His longing for her welled up, absorbing his confusion, his anxiety, and his sense of being buried under an overwhelming mountain of difficulties.

He needed her.

But there was a small detail he needed to deal with first.

Clark waited a couple of minutes until Lana walked into his kitchen and began inspecting the contents of the cupboards. Then, he swished through his bedroom, clearing the Suits from the hidden compartment in his closet and depositing them in a never-used boiler room in the basement of the building.

Moments later, he was outside Lois’s window. Her light was on.

She was home!

The longing to see her rose within him.

She would never know, but he needed her to be his harbour in the midst of the storm.

He gently tapped on the glass.

The curtain was swept back, and she was there. With a smile that stopped his breath, she opened the window, and he stepped into her apartment.

"Superman," she said.

Clark folded his arms across his chest and hoped he could command his voice to the deep, slightly aloof superhero tone. "I'm just making sure you got home safely," he said, realising his scant explanation was an insult to the vast array of his feelings for Lois Lane.

How glad he was to be with her again.

How, with one smile, she could make everything else fade to obscurity.

"I did," she said.

"How was your time away?" he asked.

She shrugged, and he detected a tinge of despondency in her gesture, making him yearn to enclose her in his arms and hold her until the shadows had dissolved.

He took a step closer and risked a fleeting touch to her shoulder. "You look tired," he said. Wanting to lighten the moment, he added, "It must have been *some* vacation."

She didn't reply immediately, and Clark wondered if she were debating whether to reveal her reasons for needing to leave Metropolis so suddenly. "It wasn't a vacation," she said.

"Oh," he said, allowing his concern to push through the Superman veneer. "Is everything all right?"

"Mom's in rehab," she said. "It was ... difficult."

Clark tensed his arms to keep them from reaching for her. "Aw, Lois," he said. "I'm so sorry."

"I think she has given up," Lois said bleakly. "I don't think she can see any reason to put in the effort to get well again."

"She has you."

Lois's smile wasn't strong enough to dissolve her gloomy mood.

Clark's longing to hold her intensified. He tried to touch her with words. "Maybe your mom didn’t say so, but I’m sure you being there would have meant a lot."

Lois picked up a sweater from the back of her sofa, folded it, and replaced it in exactly the same place. "Have you seen Clark?" she asked, her eyes not meeting his.

"He got the story from yesterday’s attempted robbery at the art gallery," Superman said.

"I read it," she said. "It was good."

"Not as good as when he works with you."

Her smile made another appearance, stronger this time. Its warmth permeated his heart. "I won’t tell him you said that," she said.

He smiled – as much as he ever allowed Superman to smile. "You don’t need to tell him," he said. "Clark knows how fortunate he is to be your partner."

She smiled again, and Clark desperately wanted to ask if she had missed anything about Metropolis. If she had missed Clark at all. Had she thought about him? Had she considered telling him about her concern for her mom? Was she looking forward to seeing him again tomorrow?

There was no way to ask any of those questions without risk of arousing the famous Lois Lane inquisitiveness, so Clark turned towards her window. "I should be going," he said. "I’m glad you’re home safely."

"Thanks for dropping by," she said.

"If I can do anything to help ... with your mom ..."

Her smile was a mix of appreciation and gentle humour. "Thank you, Superman," she said. "But I didn't realise your powers included fixing a broken spirit."

He was willing to try. For Lois, he was willing to try anything. "I wish they did," he said.

"You should go," she said with a fleeting touch to his elbow. "I'm tired, and there's an entire city out there needing its hero."

He stepped onto the ledge. "See you around," he said, meaning, See you tomorrow morning.

As Clark flew out of the window, the oasis of Lois's presence deserted him, and gloom settled like a concrete shroud around his shoulders. What would happen if Lois found out about Lana's claims? What would she think of him then? Would he get the opportunity to tell his side? And if he did, would she believe him?

Or would Lois think he had been seeing Lana in secret? Had fathered a child with her? And was now trying to worm out of his obligations?

Mayson hadn't believed him.

He would hate it if Lois doubted him.

He wished he could go back to her apartment - as Clark. He wished he could confide in her.

Everything.

I never stopped loving you. I'm Superman. I'm in trouble. I need you. Would you stand by me and help me through this? I know I'll be OK ... if you believe in me.

But he couldn't. They'd made an agreement. They were friends. Friends and reporting partners. Nothing more.

He couldn't go back to Lois, and he certainly didn't want to be with Lana right now.

So, after a quick patrol of the streets, Clark turned west and flew to Smallville.

__|~|__

Lois picked up her phone but paused before dialling.

Clark.

Thoughts of him had been her constant companion during her time away from Metropolis.

She had missed him. Missed all those little facets of his personality that were so natural, it was easy to take them for granted - his friendship, his unwavering loyalty, his steadfast support, his good-natured teasing.

His smile.

She had even missed his flashy ties.

Lois quickly punched in the familiar number and waited, trying to calm her quivery eagerness to hear his voice.

His line was busy.

She replaced the phone as disappointment swept over her.

Perhaps he was calling his parents.

If she waited a few minutes ...

Lois glanced to her watch. Ten fifty-seven. No, she decided. If she waited a few minutes, it would be after eleven o'clock, and that was too late for a hi-how-are-you call.

With a sigh, she checked the locks, and turned out the lights, still thinking about Clark.

Had he had a good week? Had he thought about her?

If he had missed her, had he missed his partner? Or his friend?

Perhaps it would be possible to have breakfast with him. She could call tomorrow morning and ask him to help her get up to speed with current stories. Encouraged by her idea, Lois set her alarm forty minutes earlier than was strictly necessary and went into the bathroom for a shower.

__|~|__

Clark landed quietly on the back doorstep of his parents' farmhouse, spun into his regular clothes, and let himself into their kitchen. They were both at the table, drinking late-night cups of tea.

His mom looked up with a smile. "Clark," she greeted. "Come and join us." Her smile collapsed as he sat at the table. "What's wrong, honey? Is it Lois?"

"Have you seen Lana Lang recently?"

"Yes," his mom said with surprise. "She came by a few days ago."

"Did she ask about me?"

"She said she was going to Metropolis for a few days and she would like to contact you."

"Contact me?" Clark said. That was one way to describe her attempt to ravage his world.

"Did she?" his mom asked. "Contact you?"

He nodded. "When I got home tonight, she was already there. She'd let herself into my apartment."

"Did she seem all right?" his dad said.

"She was ..." Clark searched for words that wouldn't sound insulting. " ... *more*."

"More?" Jonathan echoed.

"More single-minded. More headstrong. More intractable. More incapable of accepting anything that ran contrary to her plans."

"What did she want, son?" his dad asked.

Even though he knew his parents would believe him, Clark felt a strange reluctance to answer that question. "Did she tell you she's pregnant?"

Hesitant smiles pushed through his parents' expressions of shock. "Pregnant?" Martha said.

Clark nodded grimly.

"Was there any particular reason she wanted to see you?" his dad asked.

Something about his father's tone made Clark think his reply wouldn't be a complete surprise to his parents. "Yes," he said. "She announced to a friend of mine that I am the father of her baby."

"Oh no, Clark," his mom breathed.

"I'm not the father," Clark said quickly, his eyes darting between his parents as he tried to read their reaction to his statement. "Until tonight, I hadn't seen her since I left Smallville."

"That's what we thought," his dad said.

"Did she say anything to you?" Clark asked, suddenly horrified that Lana might have broadcast her announcement to the Smallville locals.

"Nothing specific," his mom replied. "She said she expected to be seeing a lot more of us. She said she had been very confused when she went to Europe but was much clearer now about what she wanted. She kept smiling and winking as if she were trying to convey something she wasn't prepared to say outright."

"She has our future planned," Clark said dismally. "She says we are getting married, and I am going be the child's father."

"But surely - once your friend had gone - Lana couldn't have kept on insisting you are the father," Jonathan said. "She must know that you aren't."

"That's the bit that has me really worried," Clark said. "When I said I wasn't going to marry her, she threatened to go public with what she called 'sensitive information' about me."

The colour drained from his mom's cheeks. "Aw, Clark," she said.

"Do you think she could know?" he asked.

His parents glanced at each other, but neither spoke for a long moment. "She could, I guess," his dad finally said.

"Superman has been around for over a year now," Clark said. "Why has she waited this long to say something?"

Even as he asked the question, the answer became obvious. Now, she was pregnant. Alone. Feeling vulnerable. She needed someone.

"Have you decided what you are going to do?" his dad asked.

"I don't love her," Clark said forlornly. "I won't ever love her."

"Then you have to tell her that," his mom said.

"I did."

"What did she say?"

"That I will learn to love her again."

"You need to be honest, son," his dad said. "You can't marry a woman you don't love. You can't accept a child that isn't yours. You can't allow yourself to be blackmailed."

"The baby is a boy," Clark admitted, feeling ashamed now of his impetuosity. "I looked."

"And that boy has a father," Martha said, patting his arm. "His parents need to work out what is best for him."

"I've always wanted a family," Clark said.

"But not this way," his mother said firmly. "No marriage can work when one person has been coerced into it."

"I know," Clark said, thinking how different he would feel if it were Lois who was pregnant and it was his child. He would be rejoicing.

But she didn't love him. She had wanted to marry Luthor.

Seeing the worry lining his parents' faces, Clark dragged himself from his thoughts of Lois. "I'll find a way to talk to Lana," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "She can't really believe that she can choose a man and demand he be a father to her child."

"Suggest she comes back to Smallville and talks to her parents," his mom said. "I know Ray and Millie will want to help her."

"I should get back," Clark said as he stood. "I don't think she should be alone for too long."

His mom tried to rally him with a hopeful smile. "Perhaps Lana will be seeing things more rationally after some time to think," she said.

His parents hugged him, murmuring words of support. Clark left the warmth of their kitchen, spun into the Suit, and flew back to Metropolis, facing the prospect of spending the night on his sofa and knowing that, unpalatable as that was, it was preferable to sharing his bed with a woman he didn't love.

He flew over the city, checking the usual trouble spots. He saw two young men, circling each other in what looked like the prelude to a fight. He landed between them. They froze, and then both began shouting accusations at the other.

When their cries had died down, Superman told them to stop acting like spoiled children and to go home before someone did something stupid.

To his surprise, one, and then the other, turned and walked away.

Clark waited until they were out of sight and then zoomed back into the air.

Everything seemed quiet. Satisfied, he turned for home.

He landed on the balcony and stopped abruptly.

There were three men in his apartment.

One was Bill Henderson. One was Detective Wolfe of the homicide squad. The third was in a police uniform, someone Clark didn’t know personally, who was stationed at the door.

Clark slipped into the room. All three of them looked up at him.

"Superman," Henderson said, moving aside. "You heard."

"Heard what?" Clark's gaze was drawn to where a body was crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. He recognised her instantly. It was Mayson Drake, her blonde hair streaked with rivers of red. "Mayson?" he said, taking a hesitant step forward. "Ms Drake?"

"Stop!"

Superman froze at Wolfe's cry.

"We have cleared this walkway," Wolfe said, indicating a path from the front door to where he and Henderson stood like sentinels over Mayson's unmoving form. "Don't contaminate the evidence."

Superman rose a foot from the ground and floated over to the men, being careful to land in the designated area.

He crouched beside Mayson, already knowing there was nothing anyone could do to help her.

A pungent blend of shock and sorrow flooded through him. After taking a moment to recapture his Superman composure, Clark stood and faced the three men. "Was she dead when you arrived?"

Henderson nodded, but Wolfe fired a question. "Do you know the whereabouts of Clark Kent?" he said.

"No. I’ve been -" Clark stopped as sharp realisation pummelled him. "Clark?" he said.

"We’re not jumping to any conclusions," Henderson said quickly.

Wolfe shot his colleague a meaningful glance. "We want to question Kent," he said. "If you know where he is, you should strongly advise him to give himself up."

"Give himself up?" Clark gasped. "You think *Clark* did this?"

Wolfe nodded grimly. "As I see it, he’s about three questions away from being charged with murder."