This story is not set in either *our* Metropolis, or the Metropolis of 'Tempus, Anyone?' - who says there is only one 'Alternate' universe? Therefore I have taken some liberties with events and characters; for instance, like Jeff Brogden, I find it hard to believe that Jonathan Kent would not have kept the globe (incidentally, Jeff, I assure you that I wrote that part of this story before I read your TUFS episodes!). Things are not precisely as they were in either dimension.

Particular thanks to Yvonne Connell, who read an unfinished version of the story at a time when I was having difficulty with it; her encouragement, reassurance, helpful comments and suggestions are much appreciated, and I *definitely* could not have finished this without her input.

Wendy Richards
w.m.richards@hrm.keele.ac.uk

~ Location: An Alternate Alternate Metropolis ~

Adjusting his tie, Clark Kent slid back into his chair, hoping that his co-workers at the Daily Planet would assume that his brief absence (to prevent a runaway bus crashing into a neighbouring building) had simply involved a visit to the men's room. He smiled softly to himself as he turned his attention back to the story on his computer screen; someone else could write up this latest Superman feat.

Clark's attention wandered from the words on his screen, an article on the mayor's chances of re-election in a year when public confidence in the city's administration had apparently sunk to an all-time low. Instead, he reflected on the dramatic way in which his life had changed in the past eighteen months. He still found it impossible to believe that in that short space of time he had found a way to use his powers to help people without jeopardising his personal privacy, had seen his creation, Superman, become Metropolis's most popular citizen, and he had broken up with Lana. That had been hard, in the beginning, Clark mused; after all, he and Lana had known each other since they were small children, and regardless of how their relationship had deteriorated, it had been difficult to accept that such a long friendship was over.

But Clark didn't regret a single thing about the decisions he'd made a year and a half ago. The day he'd met that funny little man, dressed in English Victorian clothes and wearing a bowler hat, was etched as clearly on Clark's mind as if it had happened yesterday. The man had not identified himself, yet appeared to know who Clark was. Not just his identity as Clark Kent, but as the only surviving citizen of Krypton.

Clark had known of his origins for most of his life. His adoptive parents, Jonathan and Martha Kent, had explained to him when he was very young about finding him in some kind of spaceship. Jonathan had later buried that spaceship - Clark had tried many times, but had been unable to locate it - but they had kept the small globe which had been with it. Clark well remembered the day, nearly six years ago, when the globe had 'spoken' to him for the first time, and his excitement, tinged with sadness, upon learning more about his true origins. His enthusiasm had been dampened, however, by Lana's reaction. She had always been anxious that Clark should never appear to be anything other than what she termed as 'normal'. Not only had she not wanted to know anything about Jor-El's words to Clark, but she had actually wanted him to destroy the globe.

<I should have realised then that our relationship had no future> Clark reflected.

The coming of that strange man to Clark's apartment that day eighteen months ago had changed his life irrevocably, however. Clark had at that time been almost at his wits' end. As he saw it, he had a vast number of special abilities, which he wanted to use in order to help people. Yet there seemed to be no way of doing this without giving himself away; a number of times when he had managed to 'help' he had come close to being discovered. The consequences of its becoming public knowledge that Clark Kent was really an alien from outer space was not something Clark had really wanted to face. And there was Lana, continually urging him not to use his powers, to be 'normal'. And as Lana had been the only person who knew about him, what he really was, he had listened to her; she had been the one constant in his life, and even if occasionally he had wondered if her behaviour wasn't... well, a little too *controlling,* he had ignored it, because he had needed someone who understood him. He had simply tried to ignore the nagging voice inside which kept telling him that Lana hadn't the first clue about what he really wanted, nor did she really care.

His visitor that evening had changed all that.

After informing Clark that he was aware of his true origins, the man had handed him a blue and red suit, and suggested that a secret identity might solve all his problems. (Except the problem of a fiancee who hated everything about Clark which was not 'normal', but that was a different matter altogether). Clark hadn't been sure what to think at first. The suit, made of Spandex and with a stylised 'S' on the front, had seemed so unlike anything he would normally wear that he simply could not imagine himself in it. The man had refused to explain how he had acquired the suit, and this had made Clark somewhat suspicious, especially as he recognised the 'S' design on the front as something which related to his Kryptonian heritage. When the Kents had found Clark as a baby in the spaceship, he had been wrapped in a blue blanket which had the same yellow design; and when the globe had 'spoken' to him, his birth parents, Jor-El and Lara, had both worn outfits with a similar-shaped 'S'.

But his visitor had persuaded him to try it on. After Clark's initial embarrassment - the suit was just so... *clinging* - he had realised that he did indeed look very different, especially without his glasses and with his hair slicked back. He began to believe that it could work.

Lana, of course, had been furious, and Clark had at last admitted to himself that their relationship was over. Lana had left Metropolis the day Clark had carried out his first rescue in the Suit, and they had not been in contact since. Clark had been saddened by this, but was realistic enough to recognise that it was for the best. He had been free to help people, as he had always wanted to do, and had tried discreetly to do in the past; now he could do so openly, without having his identity as Clark Kent open to scrutiny.

Since then, he had not looked for any romantic involvement, and in any case, what with combining his work at the Daily Planet with his Superman activities, he had little time for anything or anyone else in his life. Strangely enough, his life had not seemed as empty as he had feared it might be since breaking up with Lana; somehow, becoming the Man of Steel had helped him, as Clark, to be more self-confident and less hesitant in public and with friends. He seemed to have discovered a side of his personality which he had never known existed, and the shy, unsure Clark Kent of his adolescence and young adulthood was rarely seen these days. At twenty-nine, Clark now felt confident enough to accept himself exactly as he was and to be proud of his origins; even though, when dressed as Clark, he could never reveal those origins, the knowledge that when he was being Superman he was somehow representing Krypton gave him a secret sense of satisfaction. His colleagues at work had also noticed the difference in Clark and appeared to have a greater respect for him, seeking him out to ask his advice on anything from writing a story or approaching Perry White for a favour, to dealing with relationships. Ironic, thought Clark, when his own relationship had failed.

Superman... occasionally Clark still felt a little embarrassed at the name. He certainly wouldn't have chosen it for himself. But just before the little man had left... disappeared, Clark remembered with the same sense of bafflement he had felt at the time: one minute he had been watching, with his X-ray vision, as the man walked into an alley behind Clark's apartment, and the next he had vanished. Disappeared into thin air. Just before he had done so, however, Clark had distinctly heard him chuckle to himself and say, "Super! Another Super Man!" That had puzzled Clark, although he had thought no more of it until the story of his first rescue appeared in the Press. The Planet reporter had referred to him in her story as 'Superman'. Pretending mere idle curiosity, Clark had asked the reporter why she had given that name to the man in the red and blue suit. Alison had shrugged, looking a little unsure herself.

"It just seemed to fit. I don't know... there was someone in the crowd watching him rescue that little girl and as everyone was cheering, he - that man - shouted 'Well done, Superman!' I've no idea who he was... when I turned to look for him, to ask if he knew the guy, there was no sign of him."

Very strange, Clark had thought. He had wondered for a while if the man in the crowd had been the same man who had visited him with the suit, but as there seemed to be no way of finding out, Alison having barely seen him, Clark had just put it out of his mind.

Emerging from his reflections, Clark tried to re-focus on his article, but found himself unable to concentrate; for once, inspiration wasn't flowing. He glanced around the newsroom, and noticed that a number of his colleagues were trying *not* to look at the editor's office. Turning his head in that direction, Clark observed that the blinds were closed and the door was shut. That was odd. Perry White normally maintained an open-door policy, and rarely demanded privacy.

Surreptitiously, Clark lowered his glasses and focused on the office. He could see the Planet's editor-in-chief seated behind his desk, apparently deep in conversation. His visitor was a young woman Clark had never seen before. She was slim, attractive, with longish dark brown hair; about his own age, Clark thought. He looked away, adjusting his glasses. He didn't know Perry's visitor, and it was nothing to do with him.

Clark began to speed-read through his notes on the re-election story, hoping to find that vital fact or comment which would provide him with the missing 'angle' for his story. After a few moments, his journalistic instincts took over, and he began to type furiously, an appropriate line of analysis having become clearer to him.

*************

"Uh, attention everyone!"

Perry White's voice burst in on Clark's concentration, and he swung around in his chair to see the editor standing outside the office with his arm around the young woman's shoulders. She was looking around the newsroom with an expression of curiosity, but also, Clark thought, a strange air of possession which he did not understand.

His colleagues were also staring, as Perry began to speak. "I've got some great news for y'all. Some of you might recognise this young..."

The editor's voice continued to rise above the babble in the newsroom, but Clark had already heard Ralph, who occupied a desk several feet from his own, mutter, "My God! It's Lois Lane! Where the *hell* did she spring from?!

Lois Lane! Clark was very familiar with that name, and the reputation which went with it. Ever since he'd joined the Planet nearly three years ago, Lois Lane had been cited as the epitome of all that was best in investigative reporting. Clark had read her work, of course, and he could see for himself just how good she had been. She certainly had seemed to merit Perry White's accolade of 'the best damned investigative reporter I ever worked with.'

But Lois Lane had been missing, presumed dead, for four years. About a year before Clark had arrived at the Planet, she and a photographer had gone to the Congo to investigate a gun-running story. The Planet had lost contact with them after a few days, and about a week later the badly-decomposed body of the photographer had been discovered by local police. Lois herself had not been seen again. No-one knew where she was, or remembered seeing her after her first couple of days in the area. Perry had sent people out to search for her, to no avail. The local police had pointed out that with the heat and the wild animals, it was perfectly possible that a body might never be found. But Perry, Clark had been told by some of his colleagues, had never quite accepted that Lois Lane was dead. Not surprising, in a way; it was clear that Perry White had considered Lois Lane to be the daughter he never had.

And it looked like Perry had been right, Clark mused as he watched the events unfolding. Perry had made a short welcome-back speech, explaining that somehow, against all the odds, Lois was alive and that the full story would be told at a later date, preferably in the pages of the Planet. Lois would be returning to work immediately, and Perry hoped that those who had joined the newsroom in Lois's absence would soon get to know her.

Clark took all of this in, together with the stunned reactions of his colleagues, but he could barely take his eyes off the young woman standing next to Perry. She was even more beautiful than he had at first thought. She was of medium height, with dark brown eyes to match her glossy brown hair; her skin was softly tanned and her clothes were... just right, Clark thought. Businesslike without being too formal. A dark above-the-knee skirt, a pale blouse and a long navy jacket. Striking, he thought. Her facial expression certainly showed pleasure at being back, Clark mused as he noticed her making eye contact with a number of her former colleagues and smiling at them. But the pleasure didn't entirely reach her eyes, it seemed; Clark wondered why.

Although Clark wasn't looking for romance, he had not been short of opportunity; a number of women whom he had met, both at the Planet and elsewhere while carrying out his professional duties had made their interest in him clear. Clark had liked some of the women who had shown an interest in him, although he hadn't been tempted to become involved with any of them - even Mayson Drake, the very attractive former Assistant DA, who had eventually married an out-of-town DEA agent, Daniel Scardino. Linda King, a reporter for a rival paper, had also actively pursued Clark for a time, although he had always been unsure whether her interest in him was purely personal, or based on a desire to use his 'friendship' with Superman in order to get a story. In any event, Clark had accepted that women seemed to find him attractive, and had learned, over time, how to deflect advances without making the woman concerned feel embarrassed or spurned. He was certainly far more confident now in his personal dealings with members of the opposite sex than he had been while engaged to Lana. However, he had not seriously considered the prospect of becoming romantically involved again.

Lack of time for a relationship, he knew, was an obvious difficulty, what with his Super activities; but in addition, his experience with Lana had made him wary of letting anyone get close enough to know about his powers and his Kryptonian origins. Thankfully, Lana's aversion to that side of Clark no doubt ensured that she would never reveal his secret to anyone; but could he trust anyone else with that knowledge? He had decided, not without a sense of sadness, that he would need to spend his life alone. It would be safer that way. There were times when he had longed to have someone with whom he could share his hopes and fears; the exultation of the times when he had rescued someone from great danger; the sadness and despondency when he had arrived too late to help. But he had resigned himself to solitude, and never having a special person in whom he could confide. And he sometimes felt very lonely as a result; although he had a number of friends and could have as active a social life as he wanted, he sometimes longed for that one special woman with whom he could share his secret and his life.

But as he watched Lois Lane across the newsroom, Clark Kent had the strangest sense that he was looking at the woman he was destined to spend his life with. <How can I know that?> he thought in amazement. <I don't even know her! I've never spoken to her - I don't know the first thing about her!>

<It makes no difference> a voice from somewhere within him responded. <She's the one - what more do you need to know?>

*************

Lois yawned and stretched as she closed down another recent back issue of the Planet electronically retrieved on her computer. It was tiring, catching up on lost years, she reflected. Oh, it was certainly necessary, and she was learning a lot. But now, after six hours spent simply reading newspapers and watching videotapes of news programmes and documentaries, she wished that someone could invent a computer chip to reprogram the brain. The information she needed could simply be placed on the chip and fed into her brain.

She had been back in Metropolis less than a week and, apart from a few changes which were harder to get used to, in some ways it felt as if she had never been away. And yet she had been away. The four years of her absence would take a long time to be erased from her memory. Four wasted years. In that time she could have earned another couple of Kerth awards or even been nominated for a Pulitzer. She could have been indisputably the best reporter in Metropolis.

Instead of which, she had been lost in a tiny village in the middle of the Congo. Oh, she bore no grudge against the people of that village; they had had no idea who she was when she had been found unconscious in the nearby jungle. She had been brought back to the village and nursed back to health. However, at first she'd had no memory of who she was, or why she was there at all. Because she spoke English, and because of her skin colour, the villagers had of course known that she was foreign, and they had offered, once she had recovered, to take her to the capital city, several days' journey away. But for some reason she had been unwilling to go, had been afraid.

So she had remained in the village, earning her keep by teaching the children to read and write; in English at first, then, as she'd learned the local dialect, she had also taught them to write their own language. Occasionally the village elders had suggested to her that she ought to think about returning to 'her own people', but she had always responded that, as she did not know who 'her own people' were, what was the point?

Until the day some medical missionaries had arrived in the village - about two months ago now, Lois recalled. They had looked at her strangely, and had questioned her, in a mixture of local dialect and French, about her origins. She had been able to tell them little. However, they had returned some weeks later bearing a three-year-old copy of the Daily Planet. The front page bore the headline 'Planet journalist still missing', and carried a photograph of a younger woman with shorter hair than Lois had. The story concerned a woman who had been missing, possibly dead, in the Congo for a year.

It had been a long time since Lois had seen her reflection in anything other than a river or stream, so she did not instantly recognise the photograph of herself. But something about the description of the young woman struck a chord within her. It took a few hours, but she eventually remembered everything. How she and her colleague had been followed from the moment they'd set foot in the country. How they had been surrounded by the terrorists and mercenaries involved in the gun-running late one night, and Pete, her colleague, had created a diversion.

She remembered his scream, "Run, Lois!" then his cry of pain as the bullet had hit him. She had dared not run back. She had crashed through the undergrowth in fear for her life. The sounds behind her had made her aware that she was being followed, but she had carried on running. Voices calling. Footsteps. Shouts. Gunshots. Then the noises had seemed to be further away, but still she had kept going. Then she had met an immovable object, and lapsed into unconsciousness.

The doctors who had examined her since her return to civilisation had all suggested that her memory loss while in the village had been traumatic. After all, nearly getting killed was enough to traumatise anyone. Lois herself was aware that it wasn't just the fear for her life. Pete had been killed. She had simply run away. Lois felt that she was a coward. She had barely been able to face Pete's widow, who had come to see her shortly after she'd arrived back in Metropolis. The woman, Claire, had been so pleased that Lois was safe, so anxious to hear about her husband's last days, that Lois had felt like a hypocrite.

<How happy would you be to see me if you knew that Pete might be alive if it wasn't for me?> Lois had screamed silently.

Shaking her head now to clear her mind of the uncomfortable memories, Lois left the conference room to fetch a coffee from the machine. Walking across the newsroom, remodelled in her absence, she caught sight of the reporter from Kansas. <What was his name again?> she puzzled... <Kent. Clark Kent>. Another, more recent, memory...

"Lois, this is Clark Kent," Perry had introduced them.

Lois had noticed the tall, dark-haired man earlier, sitting towards the back of the room watching her closely. She now took his hand, noticing his firm grip. His smile was quite nice as well, she had thought, and his eyes... he looked like the kind of person someone could confide in. She heard his polite greeting to her, and some mischief, or an urge to demonstrate her superiority, had made her reply,

"You're from out of state, are you?"

He had smiled again, clearly paying tribute to her powers of observation. "From Smallville. That's in Kansas."

"Oh, right, Kansas," she had replied, dismissively.

But Kent had not turned out to be the 'hack from Nowheresville' that Lois had imagined him to be. Far from it; in fact, from the back-issues of the Planet that she had been reading, it was clear to Lois that Kent seemed to be the most able journalist on the Planet's staff. <Apart from me, that is> she reminded herself sharply. Clark Kent's work was sharp, intuitive and sensitive. He appeared to have gained the confidence of most of the important people in Metropolis, judging by his apparent ease of access to people in high places. His writing wasn't quite hard-edged enough for Lois, but then, that was one of her strongest points.

Kent appeared to work mostly alone, but occasionally co-wrote pieces with one or two other staff writers, mainly Ralph and Alison, Lois had noted. After returning to the conference room with her coffee, she found a couple of Kent's co-authored articles and re-read them. She noted, much to her amusement, that she could actually tell who had written which parts. And Kent's were far better written.

Perry had told Lois that until she had found her feet she would need to work with one of the other staffers in the newsroom. She hadn't particularly liked that idea, but had recognised that after four years away she was bound to need some breaking in again. She wondered whether Perry would go along with the idea if she suggested working with Kent. <At least with him I'm not likely to feel I'm doing all the work for someone else to take most of the credit, and he won't need me to speak in words of two syllables> she reasoned to herself.

Then she hesitated. It was strange... four years ago she would have been more likely to see someone like Clark Kent as a rival, rather than a potential collaborator and partner. Perhaps her years away had changed her more than she was willing to acknowledge.

************

Clark had unobtrusively watched Lois as she crossed the newsroom to get her coffee. This was her third day back at the Planet, and he had yet to speak to her properly. All the Planet employees were under strict instructions to leave Lois Lane alone; not to approach her; only to speak to her if she spoke first. It was understandable, he knew. She had only been back in the USA a few weeks, and much of that time had been spent in hospital. Perry had told the newsroom the story of Lois's four years' absence, and Clark was aware that it must have been extremely traumatic for her. He admired the young reporter's courage, in surviving her ordeal at all, and in returning to work in the profession which almost got her killed.

He felt, somehow, that he and Lois might well strike sparks off each other if they got a chance to get to know one another. When they had been introduced, she had made a smart comment about his being from out of state, and he had known full well that she had been subtly suggesting that he was a country hick. He had played into her hands by telling her he was from Smallville; true enough, except that he had omitted to mention that it was Smallville by way of South America, Australia, Paris, London and a number of other places. But then, Clark always preferred to let people make up their own minds about him, rather than shaping their expectations by giving them too much information. He supposed that perhaps he was rather too used to having to keep much of his life secret.

*************

Sipping her coffee, Lois attempted to refocus on her task. The sooner she could prove to Perry that she had familiarised herself with events over the past four years, and with events and personalities in modern Metropolis, the sooner she would be back on the beat.

But it wasn't just external events Lois was finding she had to get used to. Everything had changed. Her old apartment had long ago been rented to someone else and her belongings stored in a Planet basement thanks to Perry, and so she was spending much of her spare time looking for somewhere to live; she couldn't stay with Perry and Alice indefinitely. At work, the rebuilding of the Planet after a fire meant that she barely recognised the interior any more. There were new colleagues to get used to, and old colleagues with changed responsibilities. The previous day, Lois had spotted Jimmy and asked him to organise her a phone and a computer in the conference room which had become her temporary workspace until a desk was made available for her; Jimmy had grinned at her, clearly enjoying the situation.

"Sorry, Lois, but I'm a bit higher up the food chain these days. I'll send Jack to take care of it."

Jack? Yet another new employee, and apparently a protegee of Clark's, from what Lois could ascertain. It wasn't entirely clear from what little she had managed to find out, but it seemed as if Jack had been a small-time thief before joining the Planet. She had resolved to be on her guard around that particular individual.

And then there was the fact that everyone, in the Daily Planet and, it appeared, Metropolis in general, was practically swooning over some exhibitionist in blue tights and a red cape. This... creature, who went by the name of 'Superman' and claimed to be from outer space, seemed to think he was some sort of guardian angel. Lois had read as much as possible about this newcomer, both from the Planet and from sources available on the Internet. But she had been surprised at how little in fact appeared to be known about the man... the extra-terrestrial, whatever he was. The articles she had read varied between factual descriptions of his feats, occasionally including very brief interviews with the hero himself, and op-ed pieces commenting on how lucky Metropolis was to have him. Lois had noticed that a very large proportion of the Planet pieces were written by Clark Kent; this she identified as a black mark against the other reporter. Someone with his apparent intelligence and abilities should be more critical and questioning, Lois firmly believed.

None of the pieces had considered exactly who this man was, where he came from, why he was in Metropolis, what his agenda was and what he did when he wasn't flying around doing the job of the emergency services. Even the government appeared satisfied simply to accept him as he appeared to be.

<Why?> Lois puzzled. <Has he brainwashed everyone? What's going on?> She determined that as soon as she could, she would get to the bottom of this Superman mystery.

***************

The following morning the Planet's reporting staff filed into the conference room for the daily news conference. This morning Lois was joining them; for the past two days she had not, as she had been viewing apartments. She realised that she was being eyed with curiosity by most of her colleagues, which made her self-conscious and angry.

She felt another set of eyes on her, and swung around prepared to give the owner a piece of her mind for staring. Instead, she met the amused face and sympathetic brown eyes of Clark Kent. He was holding a mug, and he mouthed the word 'coffee?' at her. She nodded. Clark approached her a moment later, handing her another mug. It was the way Lois liked it: with a little low-fat milk. He handed her a sachet of artificial sweetener. Lois raised an eyebrow at this.

Clark grinned, not pretending to misunderstand. "My desk's not that far from the coffee machine, and you've paid it a few visits while I've been in the office over the past couple of days. It wasn't that difficult to figure out how you liked your coffee."

<Sounds plausible> Lois thought, <but why would you bother?> Especially, she considered, since he didn't appear to spend an enormous amount of time in the office. Lois had noticed him making quick exits on several occasions over the past couple of days. She surveyed her new colleague assessingly. Certainly, her initial impression of him as a country bumpkin had altered dramatically, and considering the way he was dressed today she wondered how she had ever thought that. He wore a suit straight out of the pages of GQ, in charcoal, with a crisp white shirt - and *cufflinks?* - and his tie was pure silk, although its strange geometric pattern and bright colours were certainly a shock to the system this early in the morning. His hair was carefully brushed back from his face with a styling product, and his glasses had clearly been chosen with regard for his overall appearance. And yet, Lois thought, Clark Kent did not seem like a man who was vain about his appearance. He took the trouble to look good, she surmised, because he believed that appearance, like politeness and punctuality, was an important part of doing a good job.

And it was not just with the assistance of artificial aids such as clothes and hairstyle that Clark Kent was physically attractive. Lois thought, watching him take his seat next to her at the large table, that he was one of the most good-looking men she had ever met. Despite the ease with which he wore his business suit, she had the impression of a taut, well-honed muscular body. His facial features would not have looked out of place on a catwalk, and there was just something about those brown eyes... Lois wondered what it would be like to have them gaze into her own in a moment of passion. <Stop it!> she warned herself. <You're here to work, not lust over the available talent!>

In an attempt to distract herself, she smiled at Clark and said, "So - Perry tells me you're covering the Mayor's re-election campaign?"

"Yeah, among other things," Clark replied, returning Lois's smile. <He has a *beautiful* smile> her hormones prompted her. Dismissing such thoughts from her mind, she answered him, "So, how's the campaign going? What do you think of her chances?"

Clark, to Lois's surprise, looked a little unsure. "It's difficult to say. I'm following the campaign and reporting on it every day, and Perry also wants me to do a longer op-ed piece for the beginning of the final week. But I'm having a couple of problems putting my finger on precisely what's going on. With all the problems in the city over the last year, Maxwell - the opposition candidate - ought to be a shoo-in, for sure. But it's not really looking like that on the ground, despite what the polls have been saying."

Lois was interested. This was precisely the kind of story she would have been right in the middle of, four years before. "Maybe I could take a look at your notes, talk with you about your impressions?" she volunteered hopefully.

"Sure!" Clark accepted, sounding as if he was genuinely keen on the idea. "I'd like that, Lois, as long as Perry doesn't have other plans for you."

<Tactful, Kent> Lois thought. <At least you didn't say, as long as I'm up to it, or am I sure I understand the issues after being away for so long>.

Perry called the meeting to order at that moment, and their discussion had to end.

Clark watched Lois Lane surreptitiously during the meeting. He had already formed the impression from her writing, some of which he had re-read over the last couple of days, that she was a highly intelligent and intuitive woman. He had wondered how the experience of four years living in a tiny village in an African jungle might have affected her abilities, but he recognised during the meeting that she was clearly as sharp as ever. She did not contribute as frequently as the other journalists, but when she did, it was with a comment worth listening to.

<Clever as well as beautiful... what a combination> he mused to himself. Clark was aware that Perry White intended Lois to work with another journalist for a week or so, until he felt that she was ready to resume her previous level of responsibility. It occurred to Clark, and not for the first time, that he would very much like to work with Lois himself, and he considered requesting Perry to team them up. But then he hesitated: he was dealing with a very intelligent woman here. Working alone, it was usually a fairly simple matter for Clark to slip off when he needed to be Superman. Even when he had been assigned to work with Ralph or Alison, it had not been too difficult to come up with an excuse to disappear. But Lois Lane was no fool. All the same... the idea was very tempting.

Clark's attention was dragged back to the meeting as he heard the name of his *alter ego* mentioned - and by the subject of his musings, Lois. He focused on what she was saying, and got quite a shock.

Lois, for her part, had waited until the main business of the meeting had been conducted, and Perry had asked whether there were any other points people wanted to raise. Signalling then that she wanted to speak, Lois cleared her throat.

"I've spent the last couple of days reading, and listening, and catching up on the issues which the Planet has been covering in the last few years," Lois began, warming to her theme. "And I found myself wondering just where the Planet's sense of perspective and independence has gone."

Most of the assembled reporters and researchers looked at her blankly. Perry interrupted brusquely, "Now Lois, you know I got nothing but respect for your instincts as a reporter. But the Planet has always been and will always be independent, pursuing nothing but the highest standards of journalism. If you've got a particular complaint, let's hear it. If not, then let's all get to work."

"I do have a particular complaint, Perry," Lois insisted. "It's about the Planet's coverage of this... super-hero, Superman." Again, all eyes were on Lois, most of her colleagues recognising the note of criticism in her voice and wondering at it. It was suddenly looking as if this morning's conference might be rather more interesting than most.

"What I saw in our coverage so far is nothing less than sycophancy," Lois stated bluntly. "All right, the guy seems to have done a lot of good so far, but that's no excuse for letting him off the hook. *Why* is he doing what he's doing? Why is he interfering in areas which should be the business of the police and the emergency services? Where does he come from? And most of all, what sort of exhibitionist is he - that outfit, the primary colours, the cape... and calling himself *Super*man, of all things? He's been around for nearly two years - and the Planet has made no attempt to find out the answers to any of those questions."

"What are you saying, Lois? That you think Superman might be some sort of... of alien conspiracy?" Perry interjected.

Lois's expression was sardonic. "Oh, please! This isn't the X-Files! I don't know what I think - but that's the whole point. Why has no-one at the Planet written a proper expose of this man? Why haven't we at least *questioned* what he's doing, and whether he should be doing it?"

"Well, hell, Lois," Perry replied slowly, attempting to give her words due consideration without letting his star reporter see how he really felt about what she had said, "I guess because we know that Superman is a decent, genuine person who does his best to... help, and to do good."

"To fight for Truth and Justice, you mean," Lois objected sarcastically, quoting from an early article by Clark Kent on the super-hero.

Clark recognised his own words, and flushed slightly; realising it, he hoped that anyone who had seen would simply assume that he was embarrassed that Lois had chosen to quote his article. He had thought that the exclusive 'interview' with himself which he had written for the Planet would help to answer the public's questions and allay any fear about just who this red-and-blue apparition was and what his intentions were. But, quoted out of context like this, his words sounded trite.

One or two other reporters entered the discussion at this point, ridiculing Lois's argument and urging Perry to take no notice. Clark glanced at Lois in the seat beside him. She was chewing her pen-top, and there was a determined expression on her face; but he thought he saw hurt in her eyes.

Clark held up his hand, indicating that he wanted to speak. "Chief, I think Lois has a point. There are... unanswered questions. And maybe there ought to be a debate about what Superman's doing. This is the 1990s - people should be able to cope with open, honest questioning of the things we believe in .And if there's going to be a debate, the Planet, the best newspaper in Metropolis, should lead it. I think Lois should write a piece for the op-ed page."

Taken by surprise, Lois caught her breath and stared at Clark. He was one of the last people she had expected to support her on this; after all, she had read his Superman articles and he had never raised any questions about the man's motivation, or the wisdom of an entire city relying on one mysterious man for its well-being and security.

The editor was speaking. "Well, now, Clark, if you think it's a good idea we could consider it. But Clark, you know Superman. I wouldn't want him to think the Planet was turning against him, you know."

Clark shook his head. "He wouldn't think that, Chief. Superman's well aware that debate is a healthy part of democracy. I'm sure he wouldn't let it worry him."

Lois was taken aback by this exchange. Clark *knew* the man? How? Then she reminded herself that Clark appeared to be one of the very few journalists ever to have interviewed Superman; no doubt the super-hero trusted him and regarded him as a useful contact in the media. But did this mean that Superman had been shaping his media image by using reporters like Clark?

<I wouldn't let myself be used like that!> she thought fiercely. <Although I *do* want to interview him. I just have to figure out how to get close enough to arrange it... if Kent is close to this Superman, I'm not sure I want to do it through him.>

*************

Clark returned to his desk in a pensive mood. So Lois Lane was suspicious of Superman's motives? He mused on this unexpected turn of events; it occurred to him that perhaps this was only to be expected given the reputation Lois had previously enjoyed as an investigative reporter. From what he could gather, one of her specialities had been exposes; not of the salacious kind, but exposing hypocrisy and criminal dealings among people in positions of power.

<So Superman's next on the Lane hit-list, is he?> Clark thought, smiling to himself. That possibility did not particularly worry him; after all, he had nothing to hide. No slush-funds, no back-handers, no secret relationships with foreign or alien powers. The only thing he did need to protect was his identity - and he resolved to be especially careful around the tenacious Ms Lane. He thought, not without some regret, that perhaps he should forget his idea of asking Perry whether he and Lois could team up together temporarily; it looked like a somewhat dangerous proposition in the circumstances.

But all the same, the situation saddened him. It was cruelly ironic, he considered. His relationship with Lana hadn't worked out mainly because of her attitude towards his special powers. Now he had met someone else to whom he felt attracted - and she too was hostile, or at the very least distrustful, of what he could do.

<Will I ever have someone in my life I can really talk to, and be *me* with?> he wondered sadly, not for the first time.

He sighed heavily, and tried to banish the depressing thoughts from his mind so he could get down to work.

************

"So tell me about Kent, Perry."

"What do you want to know, Lois?" the Planet's editor replied. Lois had accompanied him straight into his office following the staff meeting, and Perry had known by the look on her face that this was a discussion he might not like.

"Everything. Who he is, where he came from, what he eats for breakfast... I've been looking at some of his stuff, Perry, and apart from the Superman stories his work is pretty good," Lois replied, flinging herself into a chair.

"Lois, sit down, make yourself comfortable," Perry responded with an ironic lifting of one eyebrow. Lois simply grinned. "So what's the problem? Worried about the competition?" Perry added.

Lois shook her head. "No, I'm not. Isn't that strange? Before I... went away, I probably would have been. Oh, don't worry, Perry, I still want to be the best, and I will be. I still intend to win that Pulitzer, and there's been too many Kerth awards I haven't been in the running for." Her expression was determined, a look Perry knew of old. "But Kent... no, I don't see him as competition in that sense."

Unsure exactly where this was leading, Perry leaned back in his chair and began the story of Clark's appointment to the Planet.

"Well, he'd made an appointment to see me - one of his college professors is an old friend of mine, you know how it is, and that's why I'd agreed to see Kent. Anyway, I was busy, and he arrived with this eager but nervous expression and a collection of stories he'd written for different papers around the world -"

"Around the world?" Lois interrupted.

"Yeah - he's travelled a lot. He's worked in South America, Asia, Europe... all over. Boy, I sure remember one of the articles he showed me, from the Borneo Gazette: 'Mating Habits of the Knob-Tailed Gecko.' I mean, Lois, what kind of *news* paper would print a story like that?" Perry laughed aloud.

"I didn't realise," Lois mused aloud, her forehead creasing. "I thought he was just a farmboy, straight from Kansas - probably worked on the local paper."

"He did, Lois, but that was a long time ago," Perry explained.

"But if his work was as - weird - as that, why'd you hire him?" Lois asked, still puzzled.

"Oh, I didn't!" Perry laughed. "I told him that with that kind of resume he couldn't just walk in here and expect to get a job. He was disappointed, of course, but what was I supposed to do? Anyway, I thought he'd left. I was trying to get someone over to Forty-Third to cover the razing of an old theatre - Ralph said he didn't have time, and Chris didn't want to do it - he's like you, Lois, says he doesn't like mood pieces. I guess Clark must have heard me talking to them." Perry shook his head, as if, three years later, he still had difficulty believing the sequence of events.

"The next day, Kent came in again," the editor recommenced the story. "I nearly didn't see him - after all, I figured I'd said all I had to say the previous day. But he stuck a piece of paper under my nose and practically begged me to read it. He said he wasn't asking for a job again; if I liked what I read I could pay him for it as a freelance. Well, I read it, and - well, you've seen how it is, Lois. That boy can write. With those few hundred words, he painted a picture as vivid as anything hanging on the walls of the Metropolis Art Gallery."

Perry got to his feet and went to examine one of the many Elvis portraits on the wall. "Y'see, Lois, Kent there was a bit like Elvis when the Colonel discovered him. A bit rough around the edges, a lot to learn about the business - but lots of raw talent and potential. All Kent needed was the right training and opportunities. He's had that at the Planet, and he's done even better than I expected. You know he won a Kerth last year?"

Lois hadn't heard that bit of news... how had she missed it, she wondered in surprise.

"So, Lois, what's your interest in Kent?" Perry challenged.

Lois shrugged. "Chief, you said you wanted me to work with someone else for a week or so. Personally, I don't think it's necessary, but if you insist, then I'd rather it was Kent than anyone else. You know I can't stand Ralph, and if you put me with any of the juniors I'll probably be at screaming point within a couple of days. But I think Kent'd be good to work with. He tells me he's working on the election story - I'd like to be in on that."

"I wouldn't imagine you'd know much about Mayor Leeson, Lois," Perry replied slowly, a little puzzled. "She kind of came from nowhere to win the election last time out, three years ago."

"Yeah, I saw that from the coverage so far of this election," Lois explained. "It's not the candidates as such, Perry. You know I like doing political stories, especially if there's something to get my teeth into."

"I'm not sure there is on this one," Perry replied. "Although from what Clark's been saying, the campaigning's suggesting the polls might be a bit out."

"Yeah, he told me that too," Lois commented, getting to her feet. "I don't know, I just think there might be more to this one. I don't know why I think that - call it gut instinct. There's something in all the stuff I've read I can't quite put my finger on. And I'd like to have a go at finding out."

Perry shrugged. "If Clark doesn't object, it's fine by me."

***********

"You're working with me?" Clark's voice was incredulous, although Lois knew that Perry had already explained the situation to him. "I don't need a partner - I work alone."

"Not on this one you don't," Lois retorted, glaring at her reluctant colleague. This was *not* turning out the way she'd envisaged. Kent should be *grateful* for her help, and jumping at the chance of working with her. This reluctance was not what she'd expected after his friendly behaviour that morning.

Clark sighed. Despite his earlier resolve to avoid too much close contact with Lois Lane, he didn't seem to be getting much choice. "Well, if I have to have a partner, just remember one thing. I'm in charge, I ask the questions," Clark stated firmly.

"Oh really?" Lois demanded. "And who died and made you Superman?"

Clark grinned despite his determination to remain distant. There was something about a patented Lois Lane glare... colleagues at the Planet had warned him that she had the capacity to make grown men quiver with a single glance. But, strangely, the only effect it had on Clark was to make him respect Lois even more... and find her even more attractive. <Hell, what am I doing? She's... I *want* to get to know her better. And I can take care of the Superman problem>. Capitulating, he extended his hand to touch Lois's arm lightly. "Lois, I'm kidding," he assured her in a softer tone.

"What?!" she exclaimed abruptly.

"Really, Lois, I was just teasing," he said apologetically. "After this morning I was thinking of asking Perry myself whether you could work with me on the election story. I've read a lot of your work, and I'd really love to work with you. I also think we'd work well together."

"So you tried your best to make me go back to Perry and tell him I'd never work with you if you were my last chance at a Pulitzer?" Lois replied incredulously. What on earth was this man playing at?

"Sorry - blame my weird sense of humour," Clark apologised. <Why did I ever think I didn't want to work with her? Stupid!> he cursed himself. <If I want to impress her, that's *sure* the right way to go about it!>

Lois shook her head. "Forget it. When can we get started?"

Clark was about to suggest they adjourn to the conference room. But suddenly his super-hearing kicked in; an airline pilot was sending a distress signal. Agitatedly, he ran his hand through his hair. "Not right now, Lois, I... I have a source I need to meet - for another story," he explained, using an excuse he hoped Lois would accept. "Maybe later this afternoon? I should be gone less than an hour."

He started to hurry towards the newsroom exit, then hesitated. Returning to his desk, he handed Lois a bulging folder. "Here's my notes so far. Have a look; see what you think. I'll talk to you later." With that, he was gone so fast that Lois noticed pages rustling on a number of desks in his wake.

Shaking her head in bemusement at Kent's apparently scatty behaviour, she took his file to the conference room. His action in giving it to her had surprised her; she certainly wouldn't have handed over details of her investigations so easily, even to someone she was working with. Either he trusted her, or he was just very naïve, Lois considered.

***********

Three hours, and several cups of coffee, later - and no sign of Kent, Lois thought with annoyance - she was still no closer to working out exactly what it was about the election which was nagging her. She had been through Kent's notes and all his published stories about the campaign five times over, and had also read the coverage in a number of competitor papers. As Perry had said to her earlier, Mayor Leeson was new on the political scene since Lois's disappearance, so it couldn't be that Lois knew something about the outgoing mayor... could it?

Unable to figure out just why she was so sure there was more to the story than met the eye, and irritated that Kent had not bothered to come back, Lois collected her coat to leave for the day. It was still a little early, but she had decided to pick up a couple of evening papers to see if there was anywhere decent to rent. Her search for accommodation had not been particularly fruitful so far: the rental agents she had spoken to had made it clear that demand for the kind of apartment Lois wanted far exceeded supply at present, and they were certainly not putting sufficient effort into finding her a suitable place, as far as Lois was concerned.

Lois decided to walk, as it was a fine day, and a few blocks from the Planet she stopped by a street vendor to buy the papers she wanted. As she was paying for them, she suddenly felt her arm roughly knocked by a passer-by. Her purse fell, and as she bent to pick it up, she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head. She emitted a cry of distress as everything went black, and she fell to the ground.

***********

Rescuing the plane in distress had taken longer than Clark had anticipated, since the pilot had actually suffered a heart attack and the co-pilot, who was relatively inexperienced, had simply panicked. Clark had been forced to land the plane himself, gripping the fuselage from underneath and guiding it down, and then had needed to rip open the main door since the co-pilot had been unable, for whatever reason, to release the main locking mechanism. He had then flown the pilot to hospital and left the airport ground staff to see to the passengers and crew.

Then, on his way back to the Planet, he had spotted a train derailment just on the outskirts of the city, and had felt obliged to stop and help. Now, as he was eventually making his way back to the office, he wondered how Lois would react to his prolonged absence. That was certainly a drawback to having a partner, he reflected, however temporary the arrangement might be.

Within sight of the Planet's globe, his attention was suddenly distracted by another cry. He focused; a woman had just been mugged, by the look of it. He sighed; another couple of minutes couldn't hurt. Clark swooped down and caught the mugger by the collar just as he was trying to run off with the woman's purse.

Holding on to the mugger with one hand, Clark turned to the victim of the attack, who was slumped on the ground. "Ma'am?" he called, trying to attract her attention. The woman moved slightly, then groaned. Clark stilled with shock as he realised the identity of the mugger's victim.

"Lois?" he muttered incredulously.

The mugger, feeling the Man of Steel's grip on his collar loosen, took advantage of the situation to make a run for it. Clark, noticing his erstwhile captive's escape, began to chase him, but hesitated, looking anxiously at Lois. Somewhere in his subconscious, he also became aware that plenty of passers-by had stopped to stare at *him*, but no-one was making any attempt at all to assist the obviously injured woman.

Superman crouched down beside Lois. "Are you all right? Let me get you to a hospital." He began to slide his arms under her still-prone body.

Lois, gradually regaining her senses, became aware of two things. First, she had an appalling headache. Second, someone... a man dressed in bright blue and red... was trying to lift her up. Ignoring the headache, she sat up of her own accord.

"I'm fine, Mr... Superman," she stated bluntly and with complete disregard for the truth.

"Just 'Superman' will do," Clark replied, trying his best to smother a smile. Fixing his normal 'super-hero' expression firmly on his face, he added, "You were knocked unconscious, from what I saw. You need to be seen by a doctor."

"I said I'm *fine*," Lois insisted again. She noticed that her rescuer was holding her purse, and she snatched it away from him. "Look, thank you for your help. But you can fly off now - I'm sure there are plenty of other people who'd welcome your help."

Because you don't, Clark thought to himself wryly. He was determined not to respond to Lois's blatant hints, however. Telling himself that it was because he was genuinely concerned about her, and not because he wanted to show her exactly what Superman was capable of, he speedily gathered her into his arms and lifted them both into the air.

"What are you... Put me down!" Lois demanded angrily. "I told you I don't want your help!"

Superman ignored her.

"I'll sue you for abduction!" Lois yelled.

He simply smiled at her. "Try serving me with the writ."

"Easy," Lois retorted. "I'll just stand on a window-ledge and yell 'Help, Superman!' From what I've read about you, that ought to get your attention."

"Not very original," Superman replied with an amused grin. "I'd expect better from you, Ms Lane."

Lois stared at him. How did this... exhibitionist vigilante know her name?

Seeing her surprise, Clark quickly covered for himself. "Your journalistic reputation precedes you, Ms Lane. I'd heard you were back in Metropolis. And... thanks to a friend of mine who tells me you might want to talk to me, I know that you're not exactly my biggest fan."

<Kent!> Lois mentally screamed. <Can't keep his big mouth shut, can he?> She glanced up at her captor, seeing only a bland expression and brown eyes intent on scanning the skies and the city landscape below. "Does it bother you, then, that someone might not fall at your feet in admiration?"

Her response was an amazed laugh, which to Lois's surprise sounded far too genuine to be faked. "No, of course, not! It really doesn't bother me what people think of me. I just do what I do regardless." He gestured towards the ground. "The hospital's just over there - I'll take you to the accident and emergency department."

"No!" Lois protested angrily. "Look, I didn't ask for your help, and I told you I didn't want to go to hospital." She hit out at his chest, realising too late that his body was far too strong for her efforts to hurt him "I've had more than enough of hospitals lately," she muttered to herself.

Clark heard her, but decided not to comment. "If you're positive you don't want to go to hospital, then I can't really make you - although you know you could be suffering from concussion, so you should see a doctor. Where can I take you?"

"You don't need to take me anywhere!" Lois retorted. "Put me down - I can get a cab."

"No way," her captor replied. "Either I take you home, or I take you right into the accident and emergency department and hand you over to a doctor."

Lois glanced downwards; they were still a good fifty feet from the ground, so attempting to jump wouldn't get her very far. She wanted to get away from the Superhero; although it might appear as if she had the perfect opportunity to find out more about him, she wanted to interview him in a context where she felt at less of a disadvantage. Not held close to his chest, several yards off the ground, and with a splitting headache. On the other hand, the thought of being poked and prodded by yet more doctors was even less appealing.

Resigned, she turned her head to look at Superman, regretting it immediately as another stab of pain hit her in the temple. Clark noticed Lois's instinctive wince, but tactfully decided not to comment. Closing her eyes briefly, Lois muttered, "OK, OK, you win. You can take me to Perry White's house. It's - "

"I know where it is," Clark interrupted, and took off again, flying more slowly than he normally would in an attempt to avoid causing Lois further pain. The editor of the Daily Planet lived with his wife Alice in a suburban house a couple of miles from the centre of the city, and Clark knew the layout reasonably well from his visits to the house. He was aware that the rear of the house was actually not overlooked, and so he headed in that direction. As he approached, he noticed a partially open sash window in a downstairs room - the living room, he remembered - and he used his super-breath to nudge the window fully open.

He deposited Lois in the centre of the room, taking light hold of her shoulders once he had set her on her feet; he persuaded himself that he was concerned for her physical well-being. That cut still needed attention: blood was trickling down her face, and he was concerned that she might be concussed. Clark focused, and stared into her eyes; he had helped at enough medical emergencies to have learned some basic first aid. Her pupils looked healthy enough...

Lois pushed sharply at Superman's shoulders, to little avail as, she discovered, the man, or whatever he was, was as solid as Mount Rushmore. "Let go of me!" she protested. "You've brought me back here like you insisted, so you can go now."

"Just a minute, Ms Lane," Clark insisted. "I'm still concerned about your injury."

"I told you I'd be fine," Lois insisted firmly. "I'm sure somewhere there's someone who'll be grateful for your help."

The Super-hero favoured her with an ironic lift of an eyebrow as he observed, "Strange as you may think it, I don't actually look for gratitude. I don't know where you got this odd idea that I'm some sort of narcissist, always seeking admiration."

Lois didn't bother replying. She was finding that Superman's presence affected her in some strange way she couldn't quite identify. Oh, he was good-looking, that was undeniable, and his... muscular structure, clearly visible through the tight spandex, was very impressive. If you like that sort of thing, she told herself dismissively. Her thought processes were interrupted by the touch of fingers on her forehead, brushing back her hair. She jerked her head upwards, and launched her arm in a karate motion towards Superman's forearm. He was too quick for her, however, and she found her wrist captured and held in a light but inescapable grip. With his free hand, Superman continued to touch her forehead.

Eyes flashing angrily, Lois glared at him and prepared to launch a stinging verbal attack. She was pre-empted by a soft but insistent command. "Relax. This might hurt a little, but I'll be as gentle as I can."

She stared at him, not understanding what he meant. What she saw gave her no clues. He was focusing his eyes on her forehead. As he did so, she felt a hot, stinging sensation in the region of the cut; she flinched as the pain registered, but he released her wrist and gripped her shoulder, holding her steady.

"Sorry. I knew that would hurt, but the bleeding had to be stopped," he said after a few moments, stepping back from her. "I X-rayed the site first - there were no foreign objects or dirt in there, so it should heal fine. I don't think you have any concussion either, though to be on the safe side you should take things easy and avoid alcohol for a day or so."

He had been *sealing* the cut... Lois was amazed. Just what else could this man from another planet do? She swallowed, and turned her head away from him. "I... er... I... guess I should thank you for doing that," she muttered, reluctance competing with guilt - Lois wasn't usually *this* belligerent when confronted with someone who had genuinely helped her. "And... for getting my purse back," she added, in a voice which even to her own ears sounded too much like a child ordered to apologise unwillingly.

She glanced back in time to see Superman smile - was he being smug because he had succeeded in gaining her gratitude, she wondered? So, despite his earlier claim, he did enjoy the thanks and adulation of his fans. Well, there was a good start for her article, she thought. Anger flared again, and raising her chin, she taunted, "So you got my thanks after all, Superman. Make you feel good, did it?"

He smiled again, and took a step towards her, his head tilted slightly to one side. "Not particularly, Ms Lane, especially as I got the impression you didn't exactly mean it. I think that perhaps you might want to express your gratitude in a different way...?"

Lois stared at him. "What do you mean?"

He stretched out his hand to grip her chin lightly, tilting her face up to his, and bent his own head. Before Lois had time to guess his intention, he had brushed his lips across hers and was taking a step backwards.

"How - how *dare* you!" she demanded furiously. "I did *not* invite you to... to assault me in that manner! That's sexual harassment... assault!"

"Au revoir, Ms Lane," Superman murmured with another infuriating smile as he leapt with ease onto the windowsill. "Until we meet again."

"Not if I can help it!" Lois said through gritted teeth as he drifted upwards.

"Lois? Lois, who are you talking to?" Alice White's voice warned Lois of her host's imminent arrival on the scene. Not wanting to have to explain what had just happened, she tried to compose herself, and quickly finger-brushed her fringe down to cover the cut on her forehead. She managed to enter into conversation with Alice in as normal a voice as she could manage, but inwardly she was seething. *How* could this - Superman - have behaved like that - and how could she have let him?

**************

Annoyed with himself, Clark flew swiftly back to the Planet. It had been a very stupid thing to do - his behaviour during the whole encounter had been idiotic. When he had seen that Lois was injured, he should simply have asked someone to call an ambulance. <But no. You had to show off, try to impress her with your strength and your ability to fly> he mocked himself. <You thought you could win her over with a smile and a five-minute flight over the city.> Even when Lois had refused to be treated at the hospital, Clark told himself, he should simply have insisted - or let her call a cab. Damn it, if he was really so concerned he could have followed the taxi back to Perry White's house, and even told Perry, as Clark, that Superman had mentioned Lois's mugging.

<But you had to show off. And to Lois Lane, of all people... what if she had recognised you?>

<No-one has yet> he reminded himself. But a small voice pointed out that this was no guarantee that no-one would in the future. It also reminded him that only that morning he had identified in Lois Lane a woman of particular tenacity and brilliant investigative skills. Add to that her suspicion of Superman's motives, and she could be very dangerous to him.

<And so you had to kiss her! Very clever!>

Clark sighed. He had no idea why he had succumbed to that particular impulse; or perhaps he did, he acknowledged. Lois's taunting about his apparent desire for gratitude had annoyed him, and although he disliked acutely being seen as a sex object in the Superman persona and being lusted after by other women, contrarily Lois's complete indifference to Superman had piqued him. Lois Lane was an extremely attractive woman, both in looks and in personality. She was also very prickly; they would strike sparks off each other, he was sure - maybe in more ways than one. The feelings he was already experiencing towards his new colleague made what he had once felt for Lana pale into insignificance.

But, as with his engagement to Lana, Clark realised that the greatest barrier to a meaningful relationship with Lois Lane would be his _alter ego_. Not for the same reasons; Lois didn't want Superman to hide, to pretend not to exist. She wanted to expose him. And it was highly unlikely that a discovery that Clark Kent was Superman's real identity would endear Clark to Lois in any way; yet he would have to reveal himself to her at some stage if they became involved in a serious way.

Clark sighed as it occurred to him that perhaps the odd little man who had provided him with his secret identity had not done him such a great favour after all. Twice now that Suit, and the Super-hero, had come between Clark and the possibility of a meaningful, lasting relationship with a special woman. But even as he mused upon this possibility, he dismissed the idea. It wasn't the Suit, or his Super persona, which had caused the difficulty in his relationship with Lana. It was the powers which he possessed; Lana simply wanted him to be *normal*, something which Clark had always known he was not, a state of affairs about which he had been deeply unhappy - until he had, with the mysterious stranger's help, found an outlet for these amazing powers of his. No, he could not regret becoming Superman. And while his assertion to Lois that he did not look for gratitude and adulation was quite correct, he did obtain a lot of pleasure and satisfaction from knowing that hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people were still alive today thanks to his intervention. The awards and public recognition meant little to Clark; what really counted was the expression of joy and relief on a mother's face when her child was returned safe after a dangerous or distressing experience, or the knowledge that he had been able to make a difference when, after an explosion or a collapse somewhere, he was able quickly to find people buried alive, and get them out safely, when the emergency services might have taken considerably longer and not have got there in time.

That was what Superman meant to Clark: to use his powers for the good of humanity, whether in large ways or small ways; *to make a difference*. That, he supposed, was what he should have said in that first 'interview' he had written up for the Planet: Lois's quoting of his 'truth and justice' comment that morning in the interview room had revealed just how naive he had really sounded.

Still, if Lois was determined to write her big article on Superman, she would probably want to interview him. He had no particular objection to the idea; he now knew that she was unlikely to penetrate his disguise (that was one positive outcome from this evening's debacle, he supposed), and he felt sufficiently confident in his own journalistic abilities not to be overly concerned about dealing with any particularly probing questions. And if he was able to make any positive impression on her at all, he might be able to set the record straight, to explain why he really did what he did.

In fact, he realised, he would enjoy the opportunity to set out what he believed his responsibilities as Superman to be. When he had first adopted the role, although outwardly he had attempted to project an air of confidence and assertiveness - with that rather attention-grabbing suit, he felt he had needed to - he had in fact felt very uneasy about his public appearances, especially when there was any contact with the media. Time, and experience, had shown him that he was unlikely to be recognised as Clark Kent, and necessity had taught him how to handle even the most difficult of situations, be it a tricky rescue, some over-eager fans or a tenacious journalist intent on discovering 'the man beneath the Suit'. So Lois Lane shouldn't be too much of a challenge, he considered.

"I just wish I hadn't kissed her... that'll really improve her opinion of Superman!" Clark muttered angrily, startling a few passing swallows. He gritted his teeth, and set himself on a downward path towards the alley behind the Planet. Landing there less than a minute later, he ducked into a doorway, spun into his Clark clothes, and ran around the corner and into the Planet building.

****************

The three figures in the darkened warehouse made an incongruous grouping. One was short, wiry and dressed in untidy denim. The second was Asian in appearance, though his clothing was Western and businesslike; the third, standing in shadows away from the other two, wore a very expensive-looking bespoke suit, over which was a Burberry overcoat, left unbuttoned. His face was in shadow, and he played no part in the discussion, but any observer - had there been one - could have seen that he followed the conversation closely.

The Asian spoke impatiently in an accented voice, "You assured us that the Lane woman was out of the way permanently. Now it appears that you lied... and we do not tolerate liars!"

His companion protested, in a nasal whine, "I thought she was dead! My men were firing at her and they saw her fall to the ground!"

The other man brushed this aside with a gesture. "That is not good enough! They did not check?"

"They were anxious to get out of the area in case anyone else was around!"

"They were careless!"

"All right, all right... but from what I've heard the Lane woman has no idea the ambush was anything other than bad luck. Surely it's not a problem - not now, four years later?!"

The Asian again made an impatient gesture. "You do not tell us what is and what is not important! You failed in your task - and we do not employ failures!"

"What? Oh, come on - she's back working at the Planet, it'll be no problem to booby-trap her car or something. Give me twenty-four hours - two days at the most, and I promise you she'll be no further danger to anyone." The wiry man appeared to realise that he himself was in danger in this situation, and his voice grew more high-pitched and urgent.

"Failures do not get a second chance."

The first man, realising his fate, turned and made a frantic, hopeless attempt to flee. He had only taken three running strides when his body jerked, contorted, and fell to the ground, dust flying upwards as he landed. His arms were outflung and his eyes, sightless, faced the roof as his assassin strolled to his side. Blood was pooling around the dead man's head as his killer carefully placed the small revolver, silencer still attached, by his side. Only then were the gloves the Asian had worn throughout visible in the ray of dull light from a street-lamp which penetrated through a small, very dirty window high up in the wall of the warehouse.

"Time to leave, Asabi," the previously silent witness commented, in a smooth cultured voice. An observer might have thought that he was simply suggesting a trip to the theatre.

Together, the pair exited the warehouse through a side door, and approached an anonymous-looking dark saloon car which was parked in the alley outside. As he climbed into the car, the third man's features became visible for the first time in the light from the car's interior. He appeared to be about forty, clean-shaven, with dark, well-cut curly hair, and an urbane expression.

As the car slid silently down the alley, the man called Asabi spoke again. "Shall I arrange for another professional to dispose of Ms Lane, sir?"

His companion, who was perusing a copy of the Planet's afternoon edition, shook his head in a leisurely, careless gesture. "No, nothing as crude as that. It seems so... untidy, somehow. On the other hand, if our intrepid reporter were to suffer an unfortunate accident, let's say the result of brake failure, or was the victim of a distressing and fatal mishap with some falling masonry, that would be... well, it would be tragic. Deeply regrettable, of course. Remind me to send flowers to the funeral, Asabi."

************

When Clark arrived at the Planet the following morning he found Lois already at her desk. She glanced around at his approach, and cut across his greeting with a faintly sarcastic, "Do you normally get in this late?"

Checking his watch, Clark protested mildly, "But it's only 8.15, Lois."

"And another thing. Just where did you get to yesterday? You rush off, telling me you'll only be an hour or so... We're supposed to be working together, Kent!"

Clark inhaled deeply, then replied, "I apologise, Lois. But if you've had a look at this morning's edition..." he reached for a copy of the paper, and opened it at the second page to reveal his account of the near-disaster at the airport; Clark had decided to leave the derailment story to a colleague as part of his aim not to be too closely associated with Superman.

Lois barely glanced at the page, observing dismissively, "Oh. Superman." She then sat upright in her chair, favouring Clark with a glare. "That reminds me, Kent, just where do you get off trying to sabotage my plans for a Superman expose?"

"What?" Clark was incredulous.

"Don't try to deny it. I... ran into the blue-and-red personage himself yesterday evening, and he let slip that you had told him I wasn't one of his greatest fans. Now he's going to be on his guard and I'll have no chance of interviewing him. Great. Nice work, Kent!"

<Oh darn... get out of this one!> Clark thought quickly, then replied. "Lois, it's not what you think. You know I support your idea for a in-depth analysis of what Superman stands for. Remember, I backed you in front of Perry!"

Lois calmed fractionally. "Yeah, I... guess. So?"

"Well, I told Superman you wanted to interview him, and that it was going to be nothing like the kind of fluff pieces most journalists have tried to do, and he was interested. He... well, he suggested that he knows there are people who question his motives, and I think he'd be happy for the opportunity to answer some more searching questions." Clark avoided Lois's eyes as he spoke; he was used to talking about his *alter ego* in the third person, but he somehow felt less comfortable dissembling in front of Lois Lane.

Listening to Clark's explanation, Lois conceded that perhaps she had been a bit hasty in judging her temporary partner. It did appear as if he had been trying to help her; though she reassured herself that it was the kind of mistake *anyone* could have made - after all, how many people in this cut-throat world of journalism actually went out of their way to help other reporters, even if they worked for the same paper? Everyone was a competitor, after all.

"OK, well, I guess you were just trying to do me a favour," she said, in a softer tone. As she raised her eyes to Clark again, he returned his gaze to hers. For a moment, Lois felt as if they were the only two in the newsroom; the usually-raucous background chatter and noise faded to nothing, and an unusual tenseness appeared to grip the two of them. Lois's eyes fell to Clark's mouth, taking in its shape, and the whiteness of his teeth; unconsciously she wondered what his lips would feel like covering hers, how his strong hands would feel gripping her waist.

Clark was also transfixed, caught in the same feeling of suspended animation. He noticed Lois staring at his mouth, and began to lift his hand towards her chin, almost without conscious intent.

Whether they would in fact have kissed was not to be revealed; the mood was suddenly shattered by an office junior loudly shouting, "Donut, anyone?" Clark, suddenly recalled to reality, took a step backwards and gave his raised hand a puzzled stare, as if unable to recall exactly what he had been doing with it. Lois gasped faintly, and quickly closed her mouth, which had opened slightly in anticipation of what might have happened.

What *had* just happened? Lois looked away from Clark and tried to gather her thoughts. Had she really been on the point of being kissed by a man who was little more than a stranger - and welcoming the possibility? What was it about this Clark Kent, anyway? All right, the man was quite attractive... *very* attractive, she admitted, but was she out of her mind? Lois had vowed never again to get involved with anyone from work after the incident with Claud, a colleague when she had first started working at the Planet.

Clark, equally stunned by the brief interlude, broke the silence between the pair. "Uh, Lois, I've got... uh, some things I need to do."

Gratefully, Lois seized the opportunity. "Yeah, Clark, that's good - I have some work I need to get on with too. Uh... why don't we get together on this mayoral story this afternoon?"

"Sure," Clark agreed, hurrying off to his own desk.

Lois was glad of his departure, not only because of her embarrassment at what had occurred, but also because there was some research she wanted to do for her Superman story, and given that Clark appeared to be such a good friend of the... man, alien, whatever he was, Lois didn't think that Clark was likely to approve.

Some time later, having searched the Planet archives for the sort of Superman rescue stories in which she was interested, Lois decided that it was time to talk to one of the reporters who had written some of the stories. Many of them had been written by Clark, but he was not an appropriate source for the line of enquiry Lois had in mind. She got to her feet and went to find Alison. Having explained to the younger woman that Lois wanted to discuss her perceptions of Superman, they collected cups of coffee and sat by Alison's desk.

"So, what do you want to know, Lois?"

"I'm just curious about what Superman's like when he rescues people," Lois explained, careful not to give too much away. "You've seen some rescues, and you've talked to people afterwards? Does he talk to them?"

"Yeah, sure! Well, from what they say, it seems he usually asks them if they're all right, or hurt anywhere, and then either puts them down somewhere safe or hands them over to paramedics. That's about it."

"Nothing more?" Lois asked cautiously. "What about his attitude towards... women? Young women?"

Alison looked puzzled. "Sorry, Lois, I'm not sure what you mean."

Lois grimaced slightly; she was going to have to be more explicit than she had intended. "Well, has he ever... I mean, has anyone ever said that he made... unwelcome advances?"

Alison stared at Lois, stunned. "Superman? You are joking, Lois! I mean... the guy's whiter than white!"

"So - no-one?" Lois asked, disappointed.

"My God - you *are* serious! Lois, really, the guy seems to act as if he's some sort of monk - no-one's ever seen him with a girlfriend or anything, and you can be sure he's had plenty of invitations!" Alison paused for breath, then continued, "And I can tell you that there's not a single woman in Metropolis, of whatever age, would turn him down if he ever did show the slightest interest in... making advances, as you put it. Why do you ask, anyway?"

"Oh... just wondering," Lois said vaguely, trying now to minimise the significance of her enquiry, since it appeared that her theory was completely wrong.

Alison considered the older woman thoughtfully, then said slowly, "Your idea for some sort of expose of Superman - you were going to suggest that he uses his position to take advantage of people, weren't you? Portray him as some sort of sexual predator?"

Getting rapidly to her feet, Lois stammered quickly, "N-no, nothing like that, of course I wouldn't, it's a crazy idea, why would you think I'd want to do that, I... I was just exploring some thoughts... I've got to get back to work."

Returning quickly to her own desk, Lois sat unmoving for several minutes, trying to make sense of what she had just learnt. <If he really is like Alison said with everyone else, then why on earth did he kiss me?>

****************

Clark Kent was puzzling over the same question while ostensibly putting the finishing touches to an item on spending and taxation priorities for the city's new administration, whoever ended up running it. What had possessed him to kiss Lois Lane in his guise as Superman... and why had he almost repeated the gesture earlier in the newsroom? The questions Superman's behaviour had caused Lois to ask were now common knowledge in the newsroom, although apart from Lois Clark was the only person who knew what had prompted her belief that Superman was some sort of sex fiend.

<Stupid - stupid - stupid!> Clark cursed himself, while resolving to behave with acute propriety the next time - if there was a next time - he encountered Lois as Superman. He also decided to keep out of her way as himself as much as possible, barring their work together on the election story. However, at the morning news conference, which this morning took place later than usual due to Perry's having had a breakfast meeting with the paper's owner, Clark noticed that Lois was the recipient of some strange glances and several sniggers. His colleagues were making fun of her, he realised with some shock. One even asked her, as the journalists filed out of the conference room afterwards, whether she was sure that she shouldn't have taken more time to recuperate before coming back to work, that perhaps the stress was too much for her. Lois's reply was sharp and to the point, but Clark saw the flush which rose high on her cheekbones, and realised that she was upset at having become a laughing-stock among her colleagues.

He sighed; he couldn't stand by and watch that continue. Quite apart from his instinctive dislike of seeing people get hurt, Lois Lane was also a brilliant journalist and did not deserve this kind of ridicule. He crossed to her desk, and asked, in a voice loud enough to be heard by a number of their colleagues, whether she had time to have lunch with him. "I could really do with your input on a couple of things, if you have the time, Lois. I'd really appreciate having the benefit of your insight."

Surprised, Lois stared up at Clark Kent, wondering what he was up to. Was he trying to make a move on her, after the near-kiss that morning? But his expression held nothing personal, no hint of anything other than the persuasion of a work colleague. She hesitated, then decided that anything was better than remaining at her desk to be the cynosure of all eyes. "Sure, Clark, I'd be happy to."

***************

In the nearby coffee shop, Clark watched Lois order a chocolate milkshake and double chocolate chip ice-cream - classic comfort food, he mused. After he had ordered his own sandwich, he caught her eye. "Lois, is something bothering you?"

She hesitated, then confessed. "I... made a real fool of myself this morning, Clark. I had a hunch, an... idea... and it didn't pan out. But now I just look stupid."

Clark smiled sympathetically. "Hey, it happens to us all, Lois. Look at me - a month ago I wrote a front-page article about this election saying the challenger, Marshall, should win by a landslide. A couple of weeks later, the polls started to shift, public opinion changed - hey, even some of the guys in the newsroom started talking about how Leeson should stay on as Mayor. Now it's beginning to look as if Leeson might romp home again... how, I don't know, but I'll look stupid in front of the entire city!"

Grateful that Clark hadn't tried to pretend he didn't know what Lois was referring to, she took his lead. "I've looked through your notes and all the other sources I can get my hands on, and I think you're right, there is something odd going on here. I can't work out what it is, though - but all the indications suggest that Leeson should be out on her ear, and yet Maxwell seems to be the one who's in trouble. I just wish I could figure out exactly what it is that's... bugging me about this." She watched Clark carefully, hoping that he wouldn't think she was crazy for suggesting that she might have any idea about what was going on.

"Yeah, me too," Clark replied with a wry grimace. "Look, Leeson is holding a press conference this afternoon - I'm going over there right after this. Want to come?"

Pleased, Lois began to accept, then remembered why she couldn't. "Oh, Clark, I really would have liked that, but I have an appointment to view an apartment in an hour. It's the first place I've heard about that sounds even half-suitable, and if I miss that appointment the apartment will be gone."

Clark gave an understanding smile. "Yeah, I remember what it was like when I first came to Metropolis - it was hard enough then finding anything at all, let alone anything I could afford. I ended up taking this filthy, run-down loft for what I thought was an exorbitant rent, because it was all I could find or afford."

"So where do you live now?" Lois asked.

"Same place - 344 Clinton."

"But I thought you said it was awful!" Lois replied, puzzled.

"It was - then. I cleaned it up a little, did some repairs, brought in a lot of furniture and stuff... I really like it now. And the neighbourhood's cleaned up a lot, I have some nice neighbours... I'm happy there." Clark smiled to himself as he remembered fixing up the apartment at Super-speed, and the role played by Superman of ridding the neighbourhood of certain undesirable elements such as drug-pushers.

"Sounds nice," Lois said wistfully. "I used to have a nice apartment too... but there's no chance of getting anything in that building now. Even if there was anything available, which there isn't, the rent's more than doubled since I lived there. It's all stock market traders and plastic surgeons now."

"You'll find something," Clark assured her cheerfully. "And when you do, if you want any help moving your stuff from storage, let me know."

"Thanks, I'd appreciate that," Lois replied, smiling gratefully at Clark. She hadn't expected that; sure, he seemed to be interested in her if his behaviour that morning was anything to go by, but she was sure that someone with his looks would have lots of women... friends. And she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to be simply another notch on the belt of a good-looking, self-assured male. On the other hand, men who were only after a good time didn't normally offer their help in something as practical as moving apartments. Clark Kent seemed to be even more difficult to figure out than Lois had initially thought....

Part 2