Clark, back at his desk, looked up as Lois crossed the newsroom. "How did you get on, Lois?"

"Fine - I took it," she replied, coming to stand by Clark's desk.

"Yeah? That's great! When do you move in?"

"Assuming the cheque clears, tomorrow." Lois grinned; although she was very fond of both Perry and Alice, she was really looking forward to having her own space again. Somewhere, apart from anything else, where she would not listen to Elvis records for two hours every evening, followed by videos of Elvis concerts...

"Well, I should be free tomorrow evening, if you'd like my help," Clark offered. "I'm pretty good at unpacking - and if there's any little jobs you need doing, anything needing fixing up, I'm not bad at that either."

"Hey, Kent, you're not one of those guys who thinks no woman can change a plug, are you?" Lois challenged.

"Not at all - I'm perfectly happy to watch you do that, if you like," Clark grinned. "Just offering my services... where is this place, anyway?"

Lois told him the address, then saw Clark do a double-take. "Hey, that's just a few blocks from my place! Well, I guess I won't have far to go if I ever need help... changing a plug." He raised an eyebrow at Lois, and she noticed the gleam in his brown eyes and the flash of his perfect white teeth as he grinned at her.

He's flirting. Ignore him, she instructed herself. Changing the subject, she enquired, "How was the press conference?"

Clark's expression altered, became serious. "Very strange. No-one was given any idea in advance why she was calling it. Turns out that Lex Luthor is donating twenty million dollars to the regeneration fund, specifically towards clearing the slums in Hobbs Bay and building decent low-cost housing."

"Luthor?" Lois exclaimed. "Wonder what's in it for him?"

Clark was taken by surprise by Lois's cynical response. "You know Luthor?"

"Yeah," Lois replied slowly. "Before I... left... even then he was one of the wealthiest men in America, and he was setting himself up as some sort of philanthropist. I never quite bought it, though... Before the gun-running story came up, I'd been trying to get the first exclusive Lex Luthor interview, but he never returned my calls."

"He's still just as media-shy, let me assure you," Clark replied in a tone laced with irony. "I've tried - and believe me, I can be persistent - but I never even got close. I don't trust him, either, but I thought I was the only one to feel that way. I'm convinced that underneath his public persona, he's a fraud."

"Oh, I could never prove anything..." Lois brushed away her suspicions. "But why is he helping Leeson, if she's - or she was - a no-hoper for re-election?"

Clark studied his pen for a few moments, then looked up at Lois. "It *could* just be coincidence... he needs to make the donation now for tax reasons..."

Lois shook her head. "Do you really buy that, Clark?"

"Nope. Why allow Leeson to turn it into a publicity stunt for her re-election?" Clark ran his hands busily through his hair. "Luthor's involvement in this is... something I didn't expect. But why?"

"Yeah... why would the - what is he now? Fourth richest man in the world?"

"Third," Clark supplied.

"OK, so why would the third richest man in the world bother with the re-election of a city mayor? All right, so Luthor lives in Metropolis..." Lois trailed off, looking at Clark for inspiration.

Clark had got to his feet, and he pulled a chair over, positioning it beside his desk. He gestured for Lois to sit before seating himself and responding. "Well, since he *does* live in Metropolis, a lot of his business interests are here. He has a construction company..."

"But the profits from a low-cost housing development in Hobbs Bay would be peanuts to him!" Lois objected.

"Yeah. But that might not be it at all," Clark added slowly. "Help the mayor get re-elected against all odds, and Luthor will have her gratitude... maybe there are things he wants to get past City Hall in the next couple of years..."

"Possibly," Lois agreed. "Well, we can check some of that out... who does research around here now?"

"Depends what you want," Clark replied. "The research department's pretty good - but if it's anything which requires less... *kosher*... methods, I use Jack."

Jack. The boy Clark had taken under his wing. Lois had met him a few days before when he had arranged her desk and equipment for him. She had thought he appeared capable but sulky; as if he resented being given orders. Her feelings must have been visible from her expression, for Clark commented that Jack was much more intelligent than he tended to let people guess, and that it took a while to earn his loyalty. "He's basically a good kid, Lois - it's not his fault he was abandoned by his parents and left to bring himself and his kid brother up in a condemned warehouse."

Lois felt guilty; she hadn't heard this version of Jack's background. "All right, Clark, why don't you get him to find out as much as he can about any plans any of Luthor's companies might have for the next few years? It might be a red herring, but it's a start."

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

Clark arrived at Perry's house early the following evening driving a van; Lois laughed in surprise when she brought her bags to the door.

"Where did you get that from - did you rent it?"

Clark grinned. "Jack borrowed it from a friend of his. I'm not asking any more questions - it's ours for the evening as long as I get it back by midnight."

"Jack?" Again, Lois wondered about the young Planet trainee. As she had suspected, he did appear to have some dubious connections.

But Clark, coming forward to carry Lois's bags to the van, shook his head. "Jack's OK, Lois. All right, if I hadn't vouched for him, he'd have been in juvenile detention, but he hasn't put a foot wrong since. He may have a few contacts I'd prefer not to know about, but on the other hand, most investigative reporters are on pretty good terms with a few criminals - we'd never get our stories if we weren't." He turned, having slammed the van's rear door. "Give the kid a chance, Lois."

"All right then." With a faintly impatient sigh - Lois felt that she remained to be convinced - she turned to thank Perry and Alice once more for their hospitality. Perry asked Clark yet again whether he needed any help with moving Lois's belongings, but Clark assured the older man that they could manage, adding that Jimmy and Jack were meeting Lois and himself at the Planet to pack Lois's furniture and other possessions into the van. Again Lois was surprised: she had no idea that Jimmy had offered to help, and as for Jack - why should this kid, who barely knew Lois but must be aware that she was not very well disposed towards him, be interested in helping her?

Clark, taking his attention from the road for the split second it took to glance across at Lois, noted the surprise in her expression. "I asked Jack and Jimmy whether they were busy tonight - they both offered to help as soon as they knew why I'd asked, and Jack offered to get the van, " he volunteered smoothly. <See? Jack deserves better than you believe of him> was the unspoken message, Lois thought.

At the Planet, furniture, packing cases and other items were carefully loaded into the van. Clark, of course, could have carried out the operation much more quickly and expertly alone, but he was aware that he would have found great difficulty in explaining this feat to Lois. So he pretended to have no more than the strength and stamina of a slightly above-average fit and healthy male, sharing with Jack the task of carrying Lois's stylish sofas. For Lois, the operation was somewhat disturbing. This was the first time she had seen her possessions in four years; it was, she felt, a bizarre and vaguely unsettling experience. While she had been staying at Perry's house, she had refused to look at any of her belongings, telling herself that there was no point until she had found a new apartment; her sister Lucy, who had come to Metropolis when Lois had first returned, had gone to the storage basement and collected a suitcase full of clothes for her older sister.

At the new apartment, Lois gave instructions for the positioning of the furniture, and remained to begin opening some of the packing cases while the men returned to the Planet for more items; there wasn't room in the van for four passengers, and Jimmy had taken Jack to the apartment on his motorbike. Without Lois, the three men had managed to fit in the cab.

The first couple of cases contained kitchen equipment, bed-linen, towels and other mundane household items; the third case took Lois completely by surprise. It contained her private notes on the gun-running investigation.

She sat down heavily on the sofa as she was suddenly transported back four years in time. She had been so confident about this investigation, sure that she had been going to *nail* one of Metropolis's most respected businessmen in connection with gangland activities and illegal weapons importing. Her hand moved to lift the cover on the first file, then stilled. No... she couldn't face looking at this material yet. What had started out as an investigation which she had been sure was going to win another Kerth - possibly an even bigger prize - had ended in tragedy. Lois closed her eyes briefly as she realised just how foolhardy she had been. *Too* confident, sure of success; convinced that the object of her investigation had no idea that she was pursuing him. But of course he had known. Lois, once she had recovered her memory, had realised that the ambush had been no accident. Among the voices which had come out of the darkness the night Pete had been shot and she had run for her life had been American accents, and yet, as far as Lois had been able to find out, the men running the operation on the ground in the Congo were locals. The men who had found Lois and her colleague that night had been sent to kill them.

Vaguely, Lois was aware that this was an aspect of the affair that she had yet to tell the police; why she had failed to do so, she was not sure. It couldn't be simple reluctance to spend time in police interviews; she had done plenty of that over the past couple of months. Was she afraid? Wondering whether, on her return to civilisation so many years later, her life was still at risk? Her fists clenched; she had never been a coward in the past, and she had no intention of starting now. Flinging the file aside, she forced herself to get to her feet and continue the laborious task of unpacking, ignoring the hot tears which involuntarily pooled in her eyes.

Just in time, she thought, as footsteps became audible out in the hall; the door opened and Clark came in carrying a coffee-table, followed by Jack and Jimmy with her chest of drawers.

Clark, in the act of setting down the table, glanced across at Lois. Her greeting on this occasion had been, he thought, over-bright, a little forced. He waited until the younger men had left the apartment again, then strolled over to close over the front door. Facing Lois, he said softly, "Is all this turning out to be a bit much for you? We can leave the rest for now, if you like."

"Oh!" Lois was taken aback; she thought she had managed to hide her change of mood quite successfully. Clark must be even more observant than she had given him credit for, she mused. He had offered her an excuse, she thought: an opportunity simply to claim that it was seeing all her belongings again which had upset her.

But somehow, she found that she couldn't bring herself to dissemble with this big, strong, gentle man. She shook her head slightly, then glanced down at the file on the floor. Clark crossed to pick it up; he took in its significance immediately. Returning it to the case containing Lois's other personal paperwork, he observed quietly, "I can't imagine what it must have been like for you. It's just amazing that you've managed to survive with your sanity intact."

Grateful that he had understood so easily, she commented, in a voice close to breaking, "I didn't feel particularly like I'd survived intact a couple of minutes ago."

On the point of taking Lois into his arms for what he hoped would not be an unwelcome comforting hug, Clark's super-hearing alerted him to footsteps and voices entering the hall. He raised an eyebrow at Lois enquiringly. "How about I get rid of the other two?"

The offer was tempting, but Lois felt that she couldn't accept. "They've been really helpful - I was going to order pizza..."

"Leave it to me," Clark replied smoothly. "Unless - as an independent career woman, you resent a mere male taking control?"

Unable to resist the humour in his voice, Lois smiled. "Usually, yes - but I think you're right. Thank you." As the apartment door swung open again, she moved swiftly into the bedroom, suddenly feeling unwilling to face the lively chatter of the two younger Planet employees. She heard the murmur of voices, then silence; then a tap on her bedroom door.

Clark's head appeared around the door-frame in response to her reply. "That was the last van-load anyway - I'll just get the rest of the stuff, then get out of your way if you'd like."

Lois scrambled off the bed, where she had been sitting cross-legged, as she realised that Clark was now on his own with whatever heavy items needed lifting. "Oh - do you need help?"

"Nope - I'm much better on my own than trying to co-ordinate movements with someone else," Clark replied smoothly, hoping that this excuse was sufficient. He intended to finish the job quickly using his super-powers - provided that Lois stayed in her bedroom. He was taken aback when Lois suddenly giggled.

"What did I say?" he demanded.

Lois dipped her head, allowing her dark hair to obscure her face. "Well, if you need an explanation... let's just say I hope you never say that to your wife!"

"I'm not married!" Clark replied, surprised. He suddenly realised the alternative construction which Lois had put on his words, and decided upon a strategic retreat.

A few trips and several minutes later, during which Lois had stayed in her bedroom unpacking clothes, Clark came in on his already-advertised last trip from the van to her apartment. This time, Lois was in the kitchen, opening a bottle of wine.

"That's it - all done," Clark commented, preparing to take his leave. But Lois stopped him, holding aloft the bottle and two wine-glasses which she must have unearthed from one of the boxes, he assumed. He hesitated. "I thought you'd prefer to be on your own," he offered after a few moments.

"No," Lois confessed in a small voice. "I didn't really want to face Jimmy - or Jack. But... you're different, somehow."

<If only you knew *how* different...> Clark mused. "Sure, a drink would be nice - thank you."

"I thought we could still order that takeout?" Lois suggested tentatively, unsure whether Clark would prefer simply to have a quick glass with her and then leave. He had told her he wasn't married; that didn't mean that there wasn't a woman in his life with whom he would prefer to spend the evening. But he agreed quickly, and good-humouredly suggested a few of the better local delivery services.

While they waited for their food, they sat together on the sofa and Lois enquired what Clark had said to Jack and Jimmy; she had assumed that he had simply told them that she was a little upset at being reunited with her belongings. His grimace in response was a little self-conscious, she thought: she fixed him with a mock glare and demanded, "Out with it, Kent!"

Clark bit his lip, and confessed that Lois might not like his reply. "I didn't want to tell them that you were upset - and if I'd said that anyway, Jimmy might have thought that he should be the one to stay, since he knew you from before. I only met you a few days ago."

"So?"

"I told them..." he hesitated, "I said that I... fancied you, and gave them a twenty as a bribe to leave me alone with you."

Lois stared at him, and was amused to see a red flush creep up her new colleague's cheeks. <He can blush!> she thought in amazement. <Is he really so innocent - or maybe he does... like me?>

"Lois - "

"Clark - "

They spoke together; then Clark held up his hand for permission to speak. His voice was low but assured. "Look, Lois, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. And after what - almost happened yesterday morning at work... well, I'll be honest. I do find you attractive. But you needn't worry. I have no intention of taking advantage of you in any way by being here this evening."

Intrigued by his honesty, Lois found her voice. "That's... very sweet of you, Clark. And - well, I find you attractive too. But - "

"But you've been through a nightmare experience, you're not over it yet, and you're not interested in getting involved with anyone," Clark finished for her.

Lois was hesitant. "Maybe - I don't know."

"That's OK," Clark assured her. "I won't pressure you at all - but if and when you feel like dating again, I'm available. In the meantime, I'd really like to be your friend, if you'd like that."

Lois's emotions were in turmoil. First, the shock of coming across the unwelcome reminder of how stupidly cocky her younger self had been, then this - a man to whom she was *very* attracted letting her know that he felt the same way, and was willing to give her what time she needed until she was ready to return his attentions. How had he understood so easily, without need for her to say anything, her hesitance at becoming involved with anyone - her fear, she admitted, of feeling close to another human being?

Tears pricking her eyes again, she leaned towards Clark and kissed his cheek briefly. "Thanks for understanding - you're pretty smart, Farmboy."

Clark returned her salute with a brief, one-armed hug, before getting to his feet. "And you're beautiful as well as intelligent, city girl," he murmured with a wink as he busied himself preparing plates for their food, in order to give Lois an opportunity to compose herself.

Over dinner, Clark deliberately sat on the other sofa and maintained an uncomplicated conversation about university and first jobs. Later, over coffee, he ventured a question which had been on his mind since he had seen her file. "I know the Planet's written up the story of your survival and so on - but are you ever going to go back to the original investigation?"

Lois froze momentarily; this was a question which she had been avoiding ever since her return. "I... don't know," she admitted eventually. "I'm not sure there was a story there any more - it was four years ago."

Clark studied Lois's expression thoughtfully; he had a very strong feeling that there was more to this.

Lois caught Clark watching her, and realised that she was going to get away with very little. She contemplated simply ignoring him, and perhaps suggesting that she was tired and would like to go to bed; but something inside her told her that perhaps it was time she discussed this. But with Clark Kent - a man she barely knew? Yet... the idea did not seem so preposterous. Clark was like no man she had ever met before. Lois somehow knew instinctively that he would not only be willing to listen, but would understand. And she also knew that anything she told him here would not get repeated back at the Planet.

Dragging her hands thorough her hair, she swivelled to face Clark. "I don't know what it is about you, but something tells me I can trust you," she said abruptly.

His expression serious, Clark replied softly, "Hey, anyone at the Planet will tell you, I'm the original Boy Scout."

<They had> Lois reflected. <A perfect gentleman, great sense of humour, good team player, great writer, compassionate... but also a loner. Now why is that?>

"OK, I trust you," she replied baldly. "There may be more to this story, but..." She trailed off, staring at her fingers for a long moment, then continued in a faint, hesitant voice. "The truth is, I'm not sure I can do it." She was silent for a long moment, then stared at Clark again. "I couldn't tell Perry that - why was I able to tell you?"

Clark had been taken aback at Lois's admission, but tried not to show it. In response to her question, however, he said as if thinking aloud, "I'm not sure - maybe you don't feel you have as much to prove to me? After all, you're as experienced a reporter as I am, and I'm well aware of your reputation - and in awe of it. Perry is the editor, after all, and if everything I've heard is true, he's been your mentor in journalism."

Lois was thoughtful for a moment. "Yeah, I guess that's true. But - I've *always* felt as if I needed to prove myself to everyone. I never would have admitted to any sort of weakness before..."

"That may be true," Clark acknowledged, "but the kind of experience you went through would change anyone. I know a lot of people were amazed you came back to the Planet."

"Maybe I shouldn't have," Lois whispered.

"*What*??" Clark demanded. "Are you joking? That would be... a real waste of talent."

Lois stared at him - how had he heard her? He was sitting several feet away on the other sofa, and she had barely whispered her words. But she was immediately struck by his expression: it was obvious from the sheer incredulity on his face that he genuinely believed what he had said to be true. She realised that she had to pull herself together, and fought for composure.

When she finally recommenced speaking, her voice was matter-of-fact, almost without inflection; Clark felt that she might have been speaking of anyone but herself. "Four years ago I was on the track of what I thought was a great story. A leading Metropolis businessman was in fact involved in some very dirty gangland activities, and was supplying the criminal underworld with arms smuggled in from an African state."

"The Congo," Clark supplied.

With a brief nod, Lois continued. "I'd got the tip-off from a very reliable source, and I spent weeks checking it out - all the notes and evidence I had at the time are in that box over there. When I thought I had enough to prove that there was something suspicious - including a tape recording - I went to Perry and said I had to go to the Congo to check out that side of things, and maybe get absolute confirmation that - *he* - the businessman I mentioned - was the man involved. Perry sent Pete with me.

"The problem was, I was too sure of myself. I made an *elementary* mistake - I didn't cover my tracks. I just assumed that I'd been careful and that no-one was on to the investigation. That ambush where Pete was killed?" She paused, and Clark, listening intently, merely nodded. "That wasn't just the horrible accident I told everyone. It was deliberate - they were lying in wait for us, they knew who we were, and they had instructions to kill us."

Whatever Clark had been expecting to hear, this was not it. He had suspected that almost getting killed and losing four years of her life was making Lois wonder if she had lost her nerve; but he was shocked to discover that since returning to Metropolis she had been concealing the fact of a deliberate attempt on her life four years earlier.

"You're sure about this?" he asked quickly.

Lois nodded. "Some of the men spoke English - with New Troy accents. I heard our names mentioned. The only explanation had to be that the man I was after knew we'd gone out there and had sent people to kill us."

"You *have* told the police, Lois?" Clark demanded, fixing her with a hard stare which, Lois realised, altered his features considerably. But again she shook her head. "Why not, for heaven's sake?" Clark retorted, on the verge of shouting in frustration. He was now leaning forward on the sofa, his eyes burning into Lois's with, she thought abstractedly, almost the power of lasers.

"I... can't. Didn't want to," she whispered, her eyes dropping to her hands, which rested on her lap, tightly clenched.

Clark recognised the note in her voice, and his own tone was gentler. "You're afraid that this man... whoever he is... will come after you again?" An almost imperceptible nod. "But Lois, if you tell the police you can have protection - which you probably need. After all, if he knows you're back he could already be after you!"

Lois looked up and gave a wry smile. "I know. I suppose I've been trying to put it out of my mind - but finding that file this evening just brought it all back to me. I think..." She hesitated, then got to her feet and paced to the far side of the room and back again. "You know, I guess I'm just ashamed to admit that I'm scared of something. You didn't know me in the old days, Clark... They called me Mad Dog Lane at the Planet - there was almost nothing I wouldn't do to get a story. And I've been in life-threatening situations before without it bothering me too much. This time... for some reason, it's different. And I just... don't like... to let people see I'm... scared." Despite struggling to remain calm, her voice broke on the final word and she turned away from Clark.

Clark inhaled deeply before speaking; he too rose to his feet and went to stand behind Lois, resting his hands comfortingly on her shoulders. "Everyone gets scared sometimes, you know," he remarked softly. "And it really doesn't mean you're a coward. It just means that you don't actually want to die for the sake of a story. And you know, I think that's a pretty sensible approach."

Lois listened to Clark's words; somehow the reassuring timbre of his voice and the feel of his body close to hers lent her strength and comfort. She turned, and giving him another wry smile she commented, " I guess you're right. I've been bottling this up for too long. I need to finish this investigation."

"I think you do too," Clark agreed. "Look, Lois, I know it's your story, but if you want any help...?"

Lois hesitated; her first instinct had been simply to insist that it was *her* story and she didn't want anyone else working on it. But common sense reminded her that Clark had the advantage of more recent knowledge of the Metropolis crime scene - quite impressive knowledge, judging by his Planet articles - and that it was possible that she was too close to the story, in which case a more detached assistant could be helpful. Nodding thoughtfully, she replied eventually, "Yes, I guess that could be useful."

"OK then - when you're ready, maybe we could go through your notes and decide where to start," Clark proposed. "One thing though... you mentioned a businessman - who?"

"I didn't say?" Lois was surprised to realise that she had not told Clark the name of the man she believed wanted her dead. "William Brentford - the owner of..."

"BrentCo, I know," Clark finished. His eyes had widened in surprise at the name. "Lois, he's dead!"

"What!" Lois stared at Clark in shock. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah - it happened not long after I started at the Planet... I'd guess a little under three years ago. He was on a sailing holiday somewhere - Bermuda, I think... he fell overboard and drowned. I remember because I was involved in writing one of the follow-ups."

Lois sat down slowly. "So... my life isn't in danger after all."

Resuming his seat opposite her, Clark replied, "Looks like it - as long as Brentford's criminal activities were wound up at the same time as his legit ones. But what I can't understand is that if he was involved in anything criminal, why it didn't come out after his death."

"I'm not surprised," Lois commented, gradually recovering from her shock. "Brentford is... was a very dangerous man, and he covered his tracks very carefully. I didn't tell you that the snitch who gave me the tip-off was found dead a few days later - I guess that should have warned me that I might have been sussed. I should think that too many people stood to lose if Brentford's activities became public knowledge."

"Yeah?" Clark was suddenly thoughtful. "In that case... I wonder whether his death really was an accident?"

"We need to check it out." Lois was suddenly in businesslike mood. "Tomorrow - you get Jack to call up the files on the drowning, and anything else he can find about where Brentford was, who was with him and so on."

"Will do," Clark agreed. He glanced at his watch, jumping to his feet almost instantly. "I'd better go - it's late, and apart from anything else I have to take the van back." He picked up his leather jacket and Lois accompanied her to the door of her apartment. As he was about to open the door, she touched his arm lightly to stop him.

"Clark, I want to... thank you for being so understanding," she said sincerely. "I was getting myself into kind of a mess over what happened, and you really helped me to make sense of it."

He smiled in return, a genuine, friendly, heart-warming smile. "Hey, no problem, Lois - and you don't have to worry, no-one at the Planet will hear anything about any of this. Oh, and I'll tell Jimmy and Jack that you knocked me back, too, so you needn't worry about any other gossip in the newsroom."

Lois shook her head, a disbelieving smile on her lips. "You really are a boy scout, Kent." She touched his arm. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," he told her. "Oh, and another thing - I think you're one hell of a journalist, and I'm looking forward to seeing your byline back in the Planet. Which reminds me - do you want me to ask Superman if he's willing to be interviewed by you?"

"You don't mind? I know he's a friend of yours - I thought maybe you wouldn't want me talking to him."

"Why?" Clark's face revealed complete lack of guile. "I know you want to ask some hard questions, but I also know that Superman doesn't have anything to hide. So I'm not worried about what a Lane interrogation would produce," he finished with a grin. "Let me see what I can do."

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

"Here's the information you wanted, CK," Jack said briefly as he dropped a stack of papers on Clark's desk. Lois quickly came over and began to search through the documents and print-offs with Clark. However, nothing appeared to either of them to suggest that there might be anything remotely suspicious about Brentford's death.

"Hey, the yacht he was on is registered to Lex Luthor," Clark commented in surprise after a while.

Lois looked up from her perusal of Brentford's itinerary. "So...? He and Brentford probably did business together. Luther has interests in just about every area of commerce there is: LexCorp, LexComm, Luthor Industries, LNN, LexLabs and so on. It was probably a sweetener for some deal or other."

"Yeah," Clark agreed. "It just seems a little strange that we're already looking at Luthor's connections with Mayor Leeson. But I guess it's just a coincidence.

"Hmm - I guess it must be," Lois replied, already dismissing the question. "Why do you think he was in Bermuda anyway?"

Back at her own desk later, Lois was assembling some of her notes for the Superman article when her phone rang. A voice at the other end was recognisable as one of her old contacts, a petty criminal who occasionally passed on information to journalists for small cash rewards. "Lois? I heard you were back in town - and that you're still interested in the gun-running thing."

He had successfully got Lois's attention. "Yes?"

Clark's ears pricked up at the tone of Lois's voice; he glanced up and saw her listening intently to the telephone. With a faint twinge of guilt, he activated his super-hearing, in time to hear Lois arrange a rendezvous at an address a few miles from the Planet. Clark was aware that it could be completely legitimate, and that Lois was not only capable of looking after herself, but also was highly likely to resent his interference. Still... He grabbed his suit jacket and exited the building a discreet distance behind Lois.

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

"It's arranged?"

"Yes, sir. Apparently she took the bait with great ease. He didn't have to use any degree of persuasion."

"Excellent, Nigel." The speaker took a puff of his fat cigar and leaned back in his chair, exhaling a large blue smoke ring which drifted upwards and floated past the top of his head. A broad smile lit up his features as he met his assistant's eye. "And our go-between?"

Lex Luthor's assistant, a tall, balding man sporting a goatee beard, with aristocratic features and an educated English accent to match, allowed himself a thin smile. "Already dealt with."

"Excellent. Time for lunch, I think."

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

Lois paced up and down the temporary walkway beside the condemned building where Mitch, her informant, had assured her that he would meet her, bringing some crucial information. He should have been there five minutes ago, but there was still no sign. For about the thirtieth time she consulted her watch, before deciding that she would give him another two minutes before leaving. If only she hadn't sent away her taxi... The building was in a seedy area of town, and there was no-one in sight.

>From his position in a doorway just around the corner, Clark checked the area with his X-ray vision once again. It was beginning to look as if this had been a complete waste of time - no-one had shown up to meet Lois, and she certainly didn't appear to be in any danger. Other than in danger of losing her temper, he mused with a grin as his super-hearing caught yet more irate mutterings about time-wasters.

Suddenly, his super-hearing picked up something else. It sounded like... the scraping of stonework moving, Clark realised in shock, and he immediately propelled himself around the corner. As he did, he saw a large piece of masonry falling from the top of the condemned building, headed directly for where Lois was now standing, glaring at her watch once again.

There was no time to change into Superman, or to warn her; she wouldn't be able to move fast enough, he calculated grimly. But he could; running at near super-speed, he reached Lois, grabbing her and pulling her off the temporary walkway and onto the road just before the lump of stonework crashed through the walkway and down into the channel below.

Breathing heavily, her eyes wide with shock, Lois stared at Clark. "What... happened?"

"You were nearly killed," he replied soberly, his arms still holding her tightly. She struggled a little, and he released her; she approached the remains of the now-shattered walkway and looked down to see the large stone lying in the shallow water.

Turning to Clark, Lois said shakily, "That would have made kind of a large dent in my skull."

He nodded, hands thrust into his pockets.

Lois suddenly realised that she had left Clark behind at the Planet. "What were you doing here?"

Thinking quickly, Clark replied, "I noticed your expression when you were on the phone, and I thought you said something about Brentford - I can lip-read a bit," he ad-libbed, seeing her expression of surprise. "I know it was none of my business unless you chose to make it, but I just had a kind of uncomfortable feeling about it, so I followed you."

"I didn't see you!"

"Remember those old detective movies? 'Follow that cab, but stay out of sight'? I figured that if nothing happened, you'd be none the wiser." Clark was aware that Lois might well resent his interference, and was trying his best not to alienate her.

But Lois was still thinking about what might have happened had Clark not been there. "It's just as well you did - I didn't even see that thing, and by the time I had it would've been too late."

A sober expression on his face, Clark studied the top of the building; he could clearly see the gap around the edge of the roof area where the slab had come from. He turned to Lois. "Are you going to be OK getting back to the Planet?"

"Aren't you coming?"

"No - there's something I want to do here first. Go on - and try to find out what it was your snitch wanted to tell you. I'll see you in a while."

As Lois walked back towards the nearest main road to flag down a cab, Clark lowered his glasses and began to examine the roof more closely.

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

Clark returned to the newsroom just as Lois replaced her telephone receiver; as he headed for her desk, she called to him in frustration, "I can't get hold of that damned Mitch anywhere!"

His face grim, Clark perched on the edge of Lois's desk. "That stone falling wasn't an accident, Lois. Superman took a look up on the roof and he said there are definitely marks which indicate that someone worked it loose and pushed it off the edge."

Lois's jaw dropped. Closing it quickly, she ejaculated, "But - Brentford's dead, so who...?"

"That's what we need to find out," Clark replied. "But first, you need to call the police."

Just as Lois was reaching for the telephone, Jack hurried over. "Lois? You were looking for a guy called Mitch, right? I heard on the police scanner that someone answering his description was just found near the Hobbs River area - sounded like he'd been hit by a truck."

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

Down at the precinct, Lois had completed her statement and was talking to a detective Clark appeared to know quite well.

"Look, Ms Lane, I hear what you're saying to me about this weapons smuggling investigation, but that was four years ago, and the man you thought was behind it is dead. If someone is trying to kill you, I really don't see how it could have anything to do with that." The detective's voice was growing impatient as he reached the end of his mini-lecture.

Clark came forward, his arm thrust out emphatically. "Henderson, we've told you that the informant who called Lois used her gun-running investigation as bait to get her there. So that would suggest there is a link, don't you think?"

Henderson shrugged. "Who knows? The guy certainly can't tell us himself, not now he's on a mortuary slab."

"Henderson, the man who lured Lois there is dead! Doesn't that suggest to you that someone is after her?" Clark was now very angry; Lois, watching him, was surprised at the change in her mild-mannered reporter colleague.

"The guy got run over - the most we have there is a hit-and-run," Henderson replied in a bored tone. "And I would deduce that getting run over is what prevented him from meeting you, Ms Lane."

"Oh yeah? So the Hobbs River area is on the way from the south side to Milton Street?" Lois demanded.

"And do you know that he was over on the south side when he called you, Ms Lane? Did he give you his address?" Henderson's tone was sarcastic.

"Well, no, but... He always hung around a bar over there!"

"Sure - four years ago!" Henderson appeared to think that he had landed a winning blow. "Look, we have a couple of witnesses who saw him around the River area earlier this morning. End of story. We're looking for a hit-and-run driver, possibly a truck driver given the nature of the injuries. That's it. And as for your near-accident, there are warning notices by that building for a good reason. You just found out why."

Clark was by now furious. "Henderson, I told you Superman thinks that stone was deliberately worked loose and pushed."

"And he can prove it?" The detective was sceptical.

"He said that anyone looking closely at the surrounding stonework could see scrape-marks. And the rest of the edge is secure - it's odd that only one piece would be so loose that it would come down of its own accord, wouldn't you say?"

Henderson paused, his mouth turning down at the corners. "Hmm - maybe. But I can't authorise any of my people to go up on that roof - I'm not putting their lives at risk like that."

"How about I get Superman to take someone up - or take some photographs?" Clark suggested.

"Maybe," Henderson agreed. "But for now... Ms Lane, I'm not dismissing your allegation altogether, but I can't spare anyone for something as speculative as this... incident. Let me know if anything else happens - and don't go visiting any more condemned buildings."

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

"I can't *believe* Henderson was so unconcerned!" Clark exclaimed as he flagged down a cab to take them back to the Planet.

Lois shrugged. "Maybe it was an accident after all."

Clark swung around to face her. "Do you really believe that? It had to be a set-up - particularly with your snitch winding up dead. That was highly convenient, wouldn't you say? Anyway, Superman says the stone was pushed."

"Yeah, you said. So, is he a forensics expert too?"

Clark sighed. "Is that your defence against taking anything seriously, Lois - sarcasm?"

Hands on her hips, Lois faced him. "What's it to you, anyway, Clark Kent?"

"I'm only the guy who saved your life this morning!" he retorted.

"So what do you want - lifetime slavery to your every command?" Anyone who had known Lois Lane for more than a few weeks would have known to be very wary at that particularly scathing tone of voice.

Clark laughed in genuine amusement, his annoyance disappearing. "That'd be good for a start."

Lois glared at him, then almost against her will joined in his laughter. "Clark, don't think I'm not grateful for what you did this morning. I just wonder whether... whether we're not making too much of a big deal of this," she added as soon as the laughter had died away.

"I don't think we are, Lois," Clark replied quietly. "I think someone wants to kill you."

Raising an eyebrow at him, Lois responded in a sardonic tone, "Then since the police won't protect me, I'll just have to rely on you, won't I?"

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

"What do you mean, it didn't work?" The speaker, a tall, thin man, took advantage of the shadow cast by the LexHarbour sign to avoid revealing his identity to his companion.

"I dunno what happened! She was underneath, and I pushed the stone straight off - it should have hit her! She would have had no time to get out of the way, even if she'd seen it coming."

"Didn't you watch to see what happened?" The English accent was clipped, impatient.

"Course not! Couldn't take the risk that anyone might see me - I got outta there as soon as it was falling!"

"And you failed." The tone was hard, cold.

"OK, it didn't work this time, but I can try again." The hired killer's voice took on a whining quality.

"And you really think that the woman will fall for that trick a second time? She's certain to know by now that her informant is dead."

"But... Hey! What's going on!"

The sunlight reflected brightly off the nozzle of a black revolver which was suddenly directed at the would-be killer's chest. His cries of protest were lost in the muffled sound of the gun firing; he spun backwards and fell, face down, in the flagged area just in front of the harbour edge. Checking first to ensure that the area was still deserted - LexHarbour was not yet open for commercial activity - Nigel St John stepped forward out of the shadows and kicked the still-dying man into the river. He sank quickly underneath the deep waters, and the gun was allowed to fall from St John's gloved fingers to follow its victim to the river bed.

Driving away from the scene a few minutes later, St John selected a scrambled line from his car-phone and dialled. The call was answered on the second ring; the voice simply enquiring, "Executed?"

"Yes, sir," St John drawled smoothly, his accent and demeanour suggesting someone who would not be out of place in any of the famous gentlemen's clubs in Pall Mall, London. "The evidence is also disposed of."

"And the... other potential evidence, Nigel?"

"I will be paying Ms Lane's apartment a visit later this evening, sir."

"Excellent." Lex Luthor replaced the receiver, and turned in his swivel chair to face the floor-length window of his penthouse office. "Excellent," he repeated softly to himself, reaching for a cigar.

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

Back at the Planet later that afternoon, Clark approached Lois at her desk. "Leeson and Maxwell are both addressing a Chamber of Commerce meeting at five o'clock. I'm covering it - want to come?"

Lois threw Clark a suspicious glance: was this simply a means of ensuring that he would be able to keep an eye on her? He had ignored her obvious sarcasm earlier and taken her remark about protecting her at face value. She supposed that if it wasn't so patronising she might almost be flattered at having this not bad-looking - OK, *very* not bad-looking! - male taking such pains over her safety. But on the other hand, she was supposed to be working with him on the election story, and this would provide a good opportunity to see the candidates in action.

They took a taxi to the Chamber of Commerce building, and on showing their press passes were admitted with the other journalists covering the event. The candidates were making a final pre-election appeal to the business community of Metropolis; ostensibly for votes and endorsement, but the usual sub-text to these events was fund-raising, Clark had explained in the taxi. Lois, who had not covered a mayoral election before but considered herself not exactly inexperienced in coverage of political events, had simply nodded.

While Clark took notes during the speeches and questions from business leaders, Lois occupied herself in gaining an impression of the candidates and their entourage. She finally admitted to herself that she had never seen Leeson before; this disappointed her, as she had wondered whether the nagging impression she had experienced about the campaign had its roots in something she perhaps knew about the outgoing Mayor. Neither had she ever come across the challenger, Philip Maxwell, but she found herself impressed by his quiet competence and his refusal to get drawn into the usual political mudslinging.

According to what they knew of her, Mayor Leeson was in her late forties, although her immaculate make-up and expensive hairstyle contributed to the appearance of a woman at least six years younger. The absence of lines around the eyes and mouth were not necessarily any indication of youth, given the availability of cosmetic surgery. This was a woman who was well acquainted with an image consultant, Lois guessed. Her hair, make-up and clothes were well co-ordinated to suggest competence, experience and warmth; Lois made a sarcastic note to herself to check Leeson's bank account for a standing order made payable to Color Me Beautiful. Her perfectly-coiffed auburn hair toned well with her leaf-green designer suit, and her make-up used shades of rust and bronze which highlighted her hazel eyes.

The mayor had probably also received substantial training in elocution and delivery, judging by the perfectly-timed pauses, her warm smiles, and the eye contact which she made at numerous intervals with different members of her audience. It was like watching a consummate professional at work, Lois thought; and while this wasn't unusual in a politician, this woman was a city mayor. Not a Senator or a State governor...unless, of course, Lois reflected, Leeson had ambitions in that direction. That wasn't impossible. But this was also a woman with no history of political involvement or activity of any sort before she had announced her candidacy for the previous election campaign, three years before. Lois knew - or had known before she had gone to the Congo, she reminded herself - many career politicians who were nowhere near as audience-aware and as competent at delivering a speech for the maximum effect as this woman.

As the candidates left at the end of the meeting, Lois, on a sudden impulse, hurried out of the conference room in their wake. Taken by surprise, Clark attempted to follow her but found his way blocked by senior Chamber of Commerce members and the candidates' accompanying security personnel, all bent on getting to the private drinks reception in the upstairs suite. When he finally managed to escape the conference room, he glanced around anxiously for Lois without success; just as he was reaching for his glasses to slide them down his nose and use his X-ray vision, a hand tugged at his arm.

Looking around, he saw Lois. "Where did you - ?" he began.

Interrupting, Lois demanded, "Look - over there! Who's that talking to Leeson?"

Clark followed the direction of her gaze, and saw Mayor Leeson standing huddled in a corner, partly hidden by some foliage, and talking to a tall, well-dressed man. The man's grey, thinning hair suggested that he was in his late fifties, if not older. Clark frowned; the mayor appeared to be attempting to hide from view. Pulling his glasses down discreetly, Clark took a closer look. He was puzzled by what he saw: the mayor appeared to be pleading with her companion, who seemed to be in control of the discussion. He was about to activate his super-hearing to get some idea of what was going on when Lois spoke again.

"Well? Who is he?"

Clark adjusted his glasses and turned to face Lois. "I *have* seen him before - he's been with her on the campaign trail once or twice and in the background at some press conferences - I never paid him much attention because I just assumed he was an aide or researcher of some sort. I don't know his name, but I'm sure we can find out."

"Why would she be trying to hide if she's just talking to one of her campaign staff?" Lois demanded.

Clark shrugged. "I have no idea - and I'll tell you something else, that was no ordinary conversation. Judging by their body language, they were arguing - and *she* was the one on the losing end."

"How could you tell that?! I have twenty-twenty vision and I couldn't see - you wear glasses!" Lois was sceptical.

"Uh - strong prescription," Clark said quickly, adding in an attempt to deflect Lois's interest, "Let's get back to the Planet - if he's been on Leeson's campaign team he'll probably show up in some photos and we can identify him.

Back in the newsroom, Clark asked the paper's photographers to provide him with every photo they could find which had been taken as part of their coverage of Leeson's campaign. Jimmy hurried up to Clark's desk a short time afterwards, bearing sheets of proofs and a number of fully-developed photographs.

"What are you trying to find?" the young photographer enquired, wondering whether he could help; although he enjoyed his photographic work, he still harboured dreams of becoming an investigative journalist like his senior colleagues.

"Hmm?" Clark was already busy scanning the prints. "Oh - someone who might be working with the Mayor. Lois!" he added urgently. "That's him, isn't it?"

"Huh?" Lois, who had been lost in thought, sat upright and then looked carefully at the photograph Clark was holding out to her. "Yeah - that's him all right," she agreed.

"You all right?" Clark was concerned; he thought that Lois had been very quiet since they had left the Chamber of Commerce building.

Shaking herself out of her introspection, Lois nodded. "Sure - I was just thinking... I'm *positive* I've seen him before, but I can't remember where."

"Well, let's identify him for now," Clark suggested. "Jimmy? You still know how to use that ID program on the computer?"

"Sure, CK - who do you want me to find?"

After some searching, they had a name for their mystery man. "Nigel St John," Lois mused aloud. "Nope - means nothing to me."

"So who is he - and why should the Mayor be intimidated by him?" Clark wondered.

Jimmy was still using the computer. "His employment record states that he works for Lex Luthor."

"Luthor Industries? Or LexCorp?" Clark enquired, interested.

"No, Luthor directly," Jimmy replied. "Least, that's what it looks like. "His job title is just 'personal assistant'."

"So what is Luthor's personal assistant doing working on the Mayor's re-election campaign team?" Lois demanded, her eyes shining as she thought that they were onto something interesting.

"Looks like we were right to investigate Luthor's dealings with the City Council," Clark agreed. "Jimmy, can you find anything else? What did this St John do before working for Luthor?"

"There's nothing on this database, CK," Jimmy said regretfully. "All I can see is that he's a British national who holds a work permit requested by Luthor Industries. There's no employment record up to about eight years ago when he started working for Luthor."

Clark looked thoughtful. "Can you access any British databanks? I'd like to know something about this guy's background."

Jimmy pressed a few more keys. "I'll try, but I know the British don't have such comprehensive databases - something to do with civil liberties apparently. And their government information systems aren't as advanced as ours."

"Well, keep at it, Jimmy," Clark requested, moving away from the younger man's desk. "Let us know if you find anything."

"What now?" Lois asked as they crossed the newsroom.

Clark's expression was thoughtful. "I'm not sure - what I still can't figure out is why an employee of Lex Luthor's is apparently working with the Mayor. I'd also love to know what they were arguing about... I just wish I could have heard what they were saying," he muttered to himself.

"Yeah, me too, but we were too far away," Lois brushed aside his comment. "But what's bugging me is I *know* I've seen this St John before. I just wish I could remember..." She dropped into Clark's chair; he raised an eyebrow in amusement at her presumption, but suggested coffee. Lois nodded, the direction of her gaze turning to the coffee machine. As Clark grabbed two mugs and proceeded to pour coffee into them, Lois jumped to her feet.

"That's it!"

Several heads turned to stare at her. "What is?" chorused several voices

"Is something wrong, Lois?" Clark asked, concerned, as she reached him. He hastily replaced the mugs on the table and turned to face Lois as she gripped his upper arms.

"Clark, I've remembered! It was the coffee - it reminded me... Espresso... the Expressway... I followed Brentford to a diner by the Expressway turnoff at 34th Street. He was meeting with a couple of guys - they gave him money, and I was hiding, watching through binoculars and I had a camera - I took pictures, but there was one guy who was sort of in the background and I couldn't identify him. I think it was St John!"

"Hey, slow down, Lois!" Clark cautioned, trying to suppress a smile; Jimmy had told him about what he called Lois's 'babble mode', but this was the first time Clark had experienced it. He had managed to follow the tale, however, and he took Lois's arm and led her away from the curious glances of her colleagues. Fixing Lois with an intent stare, he spoke slowly and distinctly. "Lois, are you telling me that an employee of Lex Luthor - the guy's personal assistant - was involved in illegal activities four years ago?"

The intensity of Clark's gaze, and the serious tone of his voice, took Lois by surprise, but she answered with equal seriousness. "As far as I know, yes. I'm almost positive that was him."

"Do you still have the photos you took?" Clark asked, a tiny muscle twitching in his jaw.

"Yes - they're all in my files, at my apartment," she confirmed. "Hey, Clark, I know that this seems to be turning into one hell of a story, but do you always get so worked up about your investigations?"

Clark sighed, and told himself to relax. "No - not always," he admitted. "This... is different. Look," he added in a different tone, "why don't we go to your apartment and collect your files, then go through them at my place? I'll make us something to eat - it's getting late, and I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."

Lois considered; quite apart from the fact that this investigation was suddenly becoming extremely exciting with the discovery of a possible link between Clark's election story and her gun-running investigation, which was an excellent reason to continue working on it tonight, there was the prospect of spending more time with Clark Kent outside the Planet and away from their professional responsibilities. She hadn't forgotten the previous evening; it had surprised her that she had confided so much in Kent... but somehow, she didn't regret having told him so much about herself, and she knew, without needing his assurances, that he would not betray her. Added to that was the fact that he had told her, without any prompting but with some obvious embarrassment, that he found her attractive. That was... very flattering, whether or not she had any interest in reciprocating that attraction. She eyed Clark surreptitiously, letting her gaze travel up and down his body, from that gloriously thick dark hair which she suddenly wished she could run her fingers through, down to his deep brown eyes and full, sensuous lips... how would it feel to have those on her own, she wondered, remembering those few moments a couple of days ago when he had so nearly kissed her. And that chest, and the muscles in those arms... down to his narrow hips... great backside... and... well, she would have to leave the rest to her imagination.

Forcing herself to return to reality, she faced Clark and said brightly, "Why not? We could stay at my place, I guess, and order another takeout - I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook..." She laughed in an attempt to hide her sudden nervousness.

Clark, who had not missed Lois's survey of his body, smiled to himself. <Looks like maybe she does find me attractive...> He allowed himself to speculate on the possibility of kissing Lois again... for the first time as Clark, he reminded himself; Lois had no idea about the man underneath the Superman costume. <Perhaps a goodnight kiss after I walk her home> he considered.

Keeping his voice steady and neutral, he suggested, "No, you haven't seen my apartment yet - and I enjoy cooking, it'd be nice to cook for someone else for a change." He waited for Lois to collect her belongings, then, offering her his arm, he grabbed his jacket and led the way to the elevator.

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

As they walked together up the steps towards Lois's apartment, Clark explained about his elation over discovering the tenuous link between Brentford and Luthor. "You see, Lois, I've been trying to get something on Luthor for more than two years. I told you the other day that I suspected that his public image was just a front, a facade, and that there was something unsavoury going on. What I didn't say is that Superman thinks that too, though there's never been any evidence he was able to produce to back it up. He told me about his suspicions, though."

"Superman did?" Lois was taken aback. "He - tells you things like that? Just how close are you two?"

"Oh... ah... fairly close, I guess," Clark replied with forced casualness, reminding himself that he really had to be very careful around Lois Lane. "But you see now why I was so pleased to find that we might actually have something on Luthor at last."

Lois tossed back her glossy hair and raised her eyebrows archly at Clark before unlocking her apartment door. "*We* have something on Luthor? The gun-running story is mine, remember."

Was this his first glimpse of the ruthless Lois Lane, Clark wondered? He had heard stories of her relentless determination in obtaining stories before, her passionate struggle never to be scooped. One of Clark's colleagues had once related a tale in which he had been stupid enough to remind Lois that what they were doing was journalism, not war. Lois had replied, "Your problem is you think there's a difference."

Smiling now as he remembered this anecdote, Clark spread his hands. "Yep. Sure. The gun-running story is yours - and the Mayoral one is mine. See, in your investigation all you've got is Luthor's assistant linked to Brentford; in mine, we have something, however tentative, to tie Luthor directly to Leeson."

Lois swung around to face Clark again, wagging her index finger at him. "We. You said *we*. I'm with you on the political story, remember."

"Sure you are," Clark agreed. "And I wouldn't want it any other way."

Lois, warring with her competitive instincts, finally acknowledged, "Neither would I. I wouldn't even have had the nerve to pick up my story again without you."

"You didn't have any choice in the end, Lois - it came to you," Clark reminded her. "And in case you think I've forgotten, I still want to make sure that whoever wants you dead doesn't succeed." His manner had again grown serious during the latter part of his short speech, and he reached out and touched Lois's face very lightly with his index finger, drawing it down her cheek towards her jawline.

Frozen into immobility, Lois could only stare at him. <Why doesn't he just kiss me and get it over with?> she asked herself in incredulity. There was a tension in the air again, and as she met Clark's soft brown eyes Lois felt that there was nothing she would like better than to be swept off her feet into his strong arms. <Why am I behaving like some dreamy-eyed heroine from a romantic novel?> she asked herself, amazed. But Clark stepped backwards, breaking the atmosphere. "Come on - you want to get those files, and we can get on over to my place?"

"Oh..." Lois struggled to bring herself back to reality. Playing for time, she said, "Mind if I have a quick shower and get changed first? It's been kind of a long day... I'll be fifteen minutes, just make yourself at home." As Clark settled himself on her sofa with a magazine he'd found on the coffee-table, Lois escaped into the bedroom and tried to calm her unruly thoughts.

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

Lois had been very pleasantly surprised at Clark's cooking; expecting a fairly basic steak and salad, which would have represented about the culinary limit of any other male she knew, she had expressed amazement when, after showering and changing in what she considered to be record time, he had swiftly prepared a Chinese stirfry with noodles. Over dinner, they had swapped more college anecdotes, Lois doing her best to find out more about what made her temporary partner tick. Afterwards, Clark had suggested they save the remainder of the wine for later - if Lois wanted it - and had made fresh coffee for them to drink while going through her files.

She had also been surprised at his apartment. Thinking about it, she admitted to herself that she had been expecting some sort of playboy bachelor pad, given this man's obvious good looks; instead, Clark had made the most of the natural features of his loft, such as the exposed natural brick, and added a number of homely touches such as throw rugs, posters, family photographs and books. His chairs and sofa also appeared to be provided with comfort rather than seduction in mind, and he hadn't once suggested showing her his bedroom; he had merely gestured with his hand in the general direction of the bathroom before dinner, in case she needed to freshen up at some stage.

Clark Kent outside the office appeared to be as much the thoughtful gentleman as inside it, Lois mused. Same sense of humour, too, but a little more muted here, on his home territory. And the perfect host... no matter that the reason for her visit was work, he was treating her like an invited guest, with every courtesy. He looked good in casual clothes as well, she reflected. Sure, she had seen him in jeans and a shirt the previous evening, but with all the fuss of moving and the trauma of finding her investigation files, it hadn't really registered. His jeans were faded and shrunk, and clung to his hips like a second skin; it was clear that he carried no excess weight, but if he ever put on even another pound or two, the jeans would be positively indecent. On his top half, he wore a plain black cotton shirt with the initials 'cK' on the breast pocket; Calvin Klein, Lois had recognised, but she had teased him about it all the same. "Not my fault if he has the same initials as me," he had replied, with a grin and no hint of embarrassment. The top couple of buttons on his shirt were open, and Lois had on a few occasions had to remind herself *not* to stare.

Recalled to the present by Clark's amused cough, she began to open up her files, explaining her system of recording to Clark. "How do you want to do this?" she asked. "I mean, I'm pretty familiar with these, even if I haven't seen them for a few years. Want me to go through them with you and explain them?"

"Uh... it's OK," Clark said quickly. "I can speed-read - I find it pretty useful as a journalist - if you just let me start with this one..." he picked up the file containing the
earliest material "...and I'll work through them myself."

They worked in silence for the best part of an hour, though neither was giving their full attention to the work. Lois found herself trying to sneak surreptitious glances at Clark, wondering yet again what it would be like to kiss him - and perhaps even do more with him. Clark was reading the files and marvelling at how this slight young woman had managed to gather so much evidence in what had clearly been very dangerous situations. Clark had never considered himself a chauvinist, believing firmly in a woman's right to succeed in whatever career area she wanted, but he found his protective instincts firmly aroused where Lois was concerned. <It's just because I know I'm invulnerable and she's not> he told himself, though he was aware that that was only part of the truth.

Lois interrupted his introspection suddenly by yelling in triumph, "Yes!! I knew it was him - here he is!"

Clark, sitting across the table from her, got up and came to stand behind her chair. He examined the photograph: although the run-down diner was poorly lit, the man in question was in shadows in the background and the picture was obviously taken from some distance away, he believed that Lois was right. Ensuring that she was looking at the photograph and not himself, he slid his glasses down and focused for a closer look. It was Nigel St John, and...

"What's that under his jacket?" Clark asked, pointing.

"Where? I don't see anything!" Lois was sceptical.

However, Clark knew what he had seen. "Let's get that picture blown up by the labs tomorrow - I think that strap could be a shoulder-holster."

"I don't know how you could see that!" Lois protested indignantly.

"But if it is..." Clark prompted.

"If it is, then it proves he's up to no good. Why would Lex Luthor's assistant be carrying a gun if his meeting with Brentford was completely legal and above board?" Lois concluded, immediately seeing Clark's point.

"We're getting closer," Clark agreed. "But we still have a long way to go, and if we're going to expose Luthor before the election, we don't have a lot of time left."

"OK, so what now?" Lois prompted. "We could go back to the Planet - "

"What, tonight?" Clark interrupted. "Lois, I'm as keen on solving this as you are, but we deserve a little off-duty time, and you certainly need it after this morning."

<Here it comes - the seduction attempt> Lois thought, unsure whether she would resist. Did she want to? "So what do you suggest, Clark?"

Clark closed Lois's files and stacked them on the table. Looking up, he answered casually, "Well, there's still half a bottle of wine left, and it's not that late, so how 'bout we make ourselves comfortable and talk?" He gestured towards his sofa.

Expecting to be coaxed into his arms as soon as they sat, Lois was again taken by surprise when Clark seated himself at the opposite end of the large, squishy couch. He smiled at her in what was certainly not a seductive manner, and commented, "It's actually quite nice to have some company for a change and *not* talk about work."

Taken aback, Lois blurted out, "But you must bring girlfriends here - or do you go back to their place?"

Trying not to show his pleasure at her question - it seemed to suggest that she might be interested in him - Clark shook his head. "No girlfriends - not for about a year and a half."

Lois frowned: this was certainly not what she had expected. "But that would mean... your last girlfriend was your - " She broke off abruptly, realising that she was about to be indiscreet.

However, Clark simply raised an eyebrow and finished for her. "My fiancee, you mean? I take it the newsroom grapevine filled you in on that." Acknowledging Lois's nod, he smiled and added, "Don't worry, the grapevine told me a few things about you too, though I'm sure some of it's exaggerated."

Her mouth dropping open, Lois recovered her wits and protested, "Well, a lot of it is - has to be - most of it's probably complete nonsense."

Grinning now, Clark agreed. "Sure - I mean, I knew better than to believe that you actually knocked out a Secret Service agent in your rush to ask the President a question."

"What? Who said that? I never..." Lois trailed off as the expression on Clark's face told her that she had been well and truly wound up. "You... grrrrr," she growled, grabbing a cushion and flinging it at him. He fielded it and threw it back to her.

"So... if you don't mind talking about it, why did you break up with Lana?" Lois asked, unable to contain her curiosity. How could any woman let this gorgeous man go?

"No, I don't mind - it's all water under the bridge now," Clark shrugged. "We were childhood sweethearts - went through high school and then college together, and got engaged after we graduated, but decided not to get married until we'd both got our careers well established. Then we just realised we'd grown apart and wanted different things out of life - for instance, Lana wanted to move back to Kansas, but I'd only been in Metropolis a year or so and wanted to stay. And... she wanted me to change certain - aspects - of my life, which I didn't really want to change."

"She can't have really loved you," Lois said slowly. "Otherwise she'd have wanted you the way you are."

"Yeah, but I couldn't have loved her either," Clark replied. "Otherwise I would have been more willing to do what she wanted." He took a sip of his wine, and, replacing his glass on the coffee-table, ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it. "I sometimes think, now, that getting engaged to Lana was really just about me searching for a family, someone to belong to." Seeing Lois's puzzled look, he explained, "My parents were killed in a car accident when I was ten. I was shuffled around a succession of foster-homes until I was eighteen - I never got to stay anywhere longer than about a year, so I never really felt I *belonged*. Lana was one of the few constants in my life as I grew up."

Lois's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, I'm so *sorry*, Clark - I had no idea! It must have been awful for you."

<Much more than you could ever realise> Clark mused. It hadn't just been the loss of his Earth parents, but also the knowledge that Martha and Jonathan Kent were the only other people who knew his secret, that he was really from another planet. Before they had been killed, his powers had been beginning to make themselves manifest, so the Kent family already knew that Clark was going to be *different*. How different, they had not known at that stage, and Clark had really missed his parents' calm acceptance and loving reassurance as he discovered new abilities throughout his teens. <All other boys have to cope with is discovering their sexuality - I had to deal with X-ray vision and realising I could fly!> he thought wryly. At least if he'd had his parents, he would have had someone to talk to about his powers, and someone to share the bad times when he just couldn't help... Suddenly finding himself tempted to explain to Lois just what he had gone through, he stopped himself abruptly, excusing himself on the pretext of visiting the bathroom.

<What were you thinking of, Kent!> he asked himself incredulously, as he splashed his face with cold water. <Telling someone you've only known a week or so that you're from another planet?!>

<But I feel as if I've known her for ever> his inner self pleaded. <She's not just any woman... she's *nothing* like Lana!>

<But you know she doesn't trust Superman. And you'd put your secret - and your safety - in her hands? Are you crazy?> Suppressing the inexplicable urge to confide in Lois, Clark re-entered the living room and suggested that, as it was late, he should see her home.

Outside, the dark night sky was clear, the stars shining brightly in their constellations and the full moon casting shadows over the buildings along their way. Lois couldn't help feeling that it presented a very romantic backdrop, but she was mystified by her companion's behaviour. Was Clark interested in her or not? He had told her that he was, and yet he'd had several opportunities this evening to make a move on her, but had not taken them. Even now, they were walking together in comfortable companionship, Lois having slipped her hand through Clark's arm, but he had not attempted to hold her any closer.

Although in so many other ways a thoroughly modern and independent woman, Lois was aware that in a few respects she was actually quite traditional; when it came to relationships with men, while she had always been determined to be at least an equal partner during the relationship, she had always left it up to the man to make the first move to turn a friendship, or a mutual attraction, into something more. She had never been the one to initiate a first kiss, or ask a man out for the first time. Just why this was so she was not entirely sure, but she suspected that a psychologist might tell her that it was all a deep-rooted insecurity stemming from an unhappy childhood in which she had never been fully confident of her parents' love. Whether or not this was true - and Lois had little time for psychology, at least with herself as the subject - she found the idea that she should perhaps be the one to make the first move with Clark intimidating.

They reached her apartment building; Lois paused and turned to face Clark. With a shy but warm smile, she thanked him for walking her home. "I enjoyed tonight - not just the work, but... I like your place."

"Come over whenever you want, Lois," Clark invited, liking the idea that she might become a regular visitor. "Whenever you get tired of takeout, or eating alone..."

"Yeah... I'd like that," she murmured, her eyes searching his face for a sign that his invitation meant more than was implied by the words.

Reading Lois's expression as a suggestion that she might not be indifferent to him, Clark tentatively brought his free hand up to slide along her jaw and into her hair. When she didn't pull away, he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers in the briefest of caresses. Drawing back, he caught the expression of surprise - and delight - in her eyes, and, unable to resist, he slid his other arm around Lois's waist to bring her closer to him. He dipped his head again and claimed her lips in a longer, explorative kiss. He heard Lois murmur something indistinguishable against his lips, and she kissed him back with obvious pleasure, opening her mouth under his searching lips.

Nothing Clark had ever experienced before had prepared him for the intensity of his reaction to that kiss. The embraces he had shared with Lana paled into insignificance; her kisses had never affected him beyond a mild sensation of enjoyment at feeling close to a warm, affectionate human being. The occasion when he had kissed Lois as Superman had been too fleeting to allow for much sensation. Now, as every essence that was Lois seemed to flood within and around him, to his amazement he felt his head spin and his limbs gave the impression of dissolving into unsteadiness. Her indefinable scent, the sensation of her slim but shapely body pressed against his, the way their bodies seemed to... *fit* together... Clark wanted to scoop this woman into his arms and fly with her somewhere far away, where nothing could intrude upon their exploration of each other.

But real life intruded; a couple emerging from Lois's building brushed against Lois and Clark as they stood entangled by the steps leading to the door. Recovering his own balance and steadying Lois, Clark reluctantly released her. Her lips still slightly parted, she stared at him in wide-eyed silence. Unsure what to make of her silence, Clark asked hesitantly, "Are you OK, Lois?"

She swallowed and nodded; Lois had also been shocked by the intensity of her reaction to Clark's kiss. It was a long time since she had been kissed, or wanted to kiss a man; she didn't count that brief, unwanted salute from Superman the previous week. But even previous boyfriends had never made her feel quite so... bowled over, as if - she winced mentally at the cliche - the earth had actually moved beneath her feet. Even when he had released her, she had been unable to form any coherent words. She blinked now and attempted to answer him; where were they going from here? Would he now expect to be invited in?

"Uh... yeah... that was quite a kiss, Clark," she managed at last, wondering why he was no longer touching her. Hesitantly, she stretched out a hand and touched his arm. The anxious expression on Clark's face disappeared, and he covered her hand with his own.

"Sorry - I guess I forgot what I said last night about giving you time," Clark murmured apologetically.

"Don't apologise for kissing me!" Lois answered in breathless surprise. "I... it was pretty fantastic - I never expected... I... guess I just need time to decide what I want, though... and we do work together, so that might be a problem..." She trailed off, unsure quite how to tell Clark that she was definitely interested in pursuing this attraction between them, but was reluctant to become too involved just yet.

He smiled, understanding her confusion - he felt pretty shaken up himself. "Hey, I'm not asking you to move in with me or anything! And I promise I'll behave myself at work. Let's just... take things slowly and see what happens, OK?" He traced a finger gently down her cheek, then added, "I'd better get off home, I guess - I'll see you tomorrow." With that, he stepped backwards and watched her enter her building, giving a little wave as she closed the door behind her.

His mind filled with thoughts of Lois and images of her in his arms, Clark ducked into an alley a couple of blocks down the road and spun into his Super-suit. He floated upwards and took a short flight across the city in an attempt to clear his head; he needed no distractions if he was going to do his nightly patrol before going to bed. But it was difficult; all he could think about was Lois, how her body had felt pressed close to his, how sweet her lips had tasted, how their kiss had made his head spin...

Passing near his apartment a few minutes later, he heard his phone ring. He was tempted to ignore it and let the answering machine take the call, but an impulse made him land on his balcony and, with a burst of super-speed, pick up the receiver.

An anxious voice said, "Clark! Oh, you're home - I called four times..."

"Lois? What's happened?" he demanded urgently.

"Someone's been in my apartment," she replied tautly, gripping the phone tightly. Although she was still shaken, somehow the sound of Clark's voice was reassuring.

"You've been burgled?" His voice was tight, controlled.

"I'm not sure - I don't think anything's actually missing, but my things have been disturbed." Looking around her apartment yet again as she spoke, Lois took in the opened drawers and cupboards, her briefcase with the now-broken lock and the computer disk box standing open. How many floppies had been in there before she had gone out?

"Have you called the police, Lois?" Clark asked quickly.

"Yeah - they said they'd send someone over, but it wouldn't be anytime soon," Lois growled in a resigned tone. It had angered her that the police had not seemed to take her call particularly seriously once they had established that the intruder was no longer on the premises and that nothing seemed to be missing.

"Let me make a call, and then I'll be right over," Clark promised. "Just try not to touch anything in the meantime."

"Yeah, sure," Lois grumbled aloud to herself after she had replaced the receiver. "What am I supposed to do - stand outside in the hall? I've already touched the door, the light-switch, the telephone..."

Clark arrived so quickly that Lois was amazed; even taking into account the closeness of their respective apartments, he would have had to run at Olympic speed, she thought. However, he deflected her question on the subject by asking her to show him exactly what she had found when she'd entered her apartment. Shortly afterwards, another knock on the door surprised Lois; she was even more taken aback to find Henderson, the detective from earlier that day, on the other side. Clark, however, greeted the man, making it apparent that he was here at Clark's request. It was equally apparent to Lois that Henderson had only come as a favour to Clark; he appeared to find a simple burglary something of a waste of his time.

"So - nothing's actually been taken?" Henderson asked in a faintly impatient voice.

"Not as far as I can see..." Lois trailed off as Clark interrupted her, speaking in a clipped voice.

"Take a look, Henderson - whoever was here was looking for something. And my guess is that they didn't find it."

Both Lois and the detective stared at him. In a voice revealing only mild sarcasm, Henderson drawled, "And I suppose you're going to tell me what that thing was?"

Clark raised an eyebrow at Lois. "Some computer disks are missing, you said...?"

Inhaling sharply, Lois realised what Clark was getting at. "My files on the gun-running investigation!"

"Which were with you at my place," Clark finished, tacitly agreeing with her. And are still there, Lois realised; she had forgotten to take them with her when they had left to walk her home. <I must have been out of my mind, leaving my files on an investigation at someone else's apartment> Lois thought incredulously, but acknowledged to herself that she could trust Clark, and that in the light of this break-in it was probably safer that the files were not at her place.

Henderson, still obviously sceptical, observed, "Nice guessing Clark, but I need a bit more proof than one of your hunches."

"And how often are my hunches right?" Clark challenged, conveniently letting himself ignore the fact that many of his 'hunches' were based on discreet use of his super-powers. Lois watched this by-play between her colleague and the detective in surprise as she realised that Clark appeared to be held in some high esteem by Henderson.

"OK, OK," Henderson agreed. "But I need convincing here."

"Fair enough," Clark agreed. "Did you get Superman's statement and the photos of the roof where that slab was pushed from?" Henderson nodded. "I hope they convinced you that this morning wasn't an accident - someone made an attempt on Lois's life."

"I only looked at the pictures a short while before you called me, Clark, but they certainly look convincing," Henderson agreed. "Problem is, the source who called Lois is dead, and so is the person you believe was in charge of the arms-trafficking four years ago," he added, turning to face Lois.

Clark nodded. "Although my suspicion would be that Mitch was killed to stop him talking."

"There's no evidence for that!" Henderson snapped.

"Not yet," Clark agreed quietly but with emphasis. "Anyway, we know this morning's incident was linked to Lois's investigation. My guess is that someone is not at all happy that she made it back from the Congo alive, and that that person wants two things. Lois dead, and any notes or records of her investigation destroyed. That's what I think whoever came here was after."

"It's plausible, Clark, but it's just a guess," Henderson objected. "They could have been petty thieves after money."

"No," Lois disagreed, finally taking part in the conversation. She gestured to her display cabinet, with its doors and drawers standing open. "There are things in there which could be sold easily - jewellery and so on - and there's some cash I keep there to pay delivery people. It's all still there."

"Yeah, and the only things that have been taken, as far as we can see, are some computer disks," Clark added.

"Computer disks." Henderson was deep in thought now.

"Yes. What was on those disks, Lois?" Clark asked.

Lois hesitated, her competitive streak asserting itself and making her reluctant to reveal to her colleague details of her work. She caught the expression on Clark's face, however, and shrugged. "Most of them were blank - it was a new box. But one of them had copies of the notes I was making for my investigation into Superman."

Clark inwardly flinched at the thought of anything Lois might have found out about him falling into criminal hands, but was relieved that nothing relating either to the gun-running story or the election coverage had been stolen. He turned to Henderson. "My guess is that they were looking for Lois's evidence - but she, and it, were at my place this evening."

Henderson shrugged. "You could be right, Clark, but there's not a whole lot anyone can do about it now. I'll get someone over to dust for prints in the morning, but if this was a professional job, my bet is we won't find any."

Turning away from his companions, Clark slipped his glasses down discreetly and focused on Lois's display cabinet; he frowned as he realised that Henderson was right and that no prints were visible. Another thought occurring to him suddenly, he moved into the kitchen and prowled about restlessly.

"What's up, Clark?" Lois demanded, following him. "Look, maybe I should make some coffee - "

"Don't touch anything!" Clark rapped out, moving swiftly to take her by the shoulders and steer her back towards the sitting-room. Both Lois and Henderson stared at him.

"Can I sit down?" Lois demanded sarcastically, angry at Clark's behaviour. Clark surreptitiously X-rayed Lois's sofa before nodding.

"What's all this about?" Henderson demanded, a fraction of a second before Lois.

"My guess is this," Clark began to explain. "This morning's attempt on Lois's life was meant to look like an accident. I don't think that whoever's behind this wants it to look like murder. So if they tried again, it would be some other kind of 'accident' - like a runaway truck - " here, he glanced at Henderson, intending to remind the man of the death of Lois's source " - or maybe faulty wiring in a domestic appliance." He turned to Lois. "I don't think you should use anything here until it's all been checked out."

When he had gone into the kitchen, Clark had initially thought of using his super-powers to check the various appliances for safety, but he had quickly rejected that idea for a number of reasons. There were too many items which could have been booby-trapped, including equipment in Lois's bathroom or bedroom; he couldn't check them all quickly enough without causing suspicion. Secondly, while a severe electric shock or explosion would have no effect on him, he could think of no simple means of explaining away his immunity. And probably most important was the fact that Clark wanted to prove to Henderson that Lois's life was in danger.

"I don't know why I'm going along with this, Clark, but OK. I'll get a team in tomorrow to check the place over," Henderson agreed. "In the meantime, Lois, do you have somewhere you can stay tonight?"

Clark answered for her. "She'll be at my place." Henderson nodded, and left after promising to be in touch.

Lois glared at Clark. "How dare you just take over and make decisions for me like that!"</