Ambivalence

By Elizabeth Frerichs

Summary: Ambivalence—noun 1: simultaneous and contradictory attitudes or feelings (as attraction and repulsion) toward an object, person, or action; 2: continual fluctuation (as between one thing and its opposite). What if Clark escaped from Luthor’s Kryptonite cage just a few seconds earlier, and it forced both Lois and Clark to face up to how broken the events of “Barbarians at the Planet” and “House of Luthor” left them?

Rating: PG-13

Story Size: 76,590 words

Disclaimer: Obviously, the Lois and Clark TV show characters, etc. do not belong to me.

Part Four

Fortunately, Lois was still there by the time Clark got back with dinner. He’d been a little leary of leaving her all alone, but really, he’d needed a breather. Be friends with Lois again? He shook his head. He had no idea what to even think about that.

“Thanks, Clark. You always get the best Chinese, ever since our first assignment.” She gave a small chuckle. “Someday you’ll have to tell me where you get it. I’ve tried quite a few Chinese places, but none of them ever seem as good as the ones you find.”

Clark held in a sigh. Telling Lois the fact that he got Chinese food from China was trouble waiting to happen. It meant telling her that he was Superman. Would she be able to see him after that? See the man who was both Clark and Superman? Maybe this whole trying a friendship thing was a bad idea. He’d spent most of the last year tied up in knots because of this exact thorny issue. The definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, right? So where did that leave him? His hand clenched into a fist. Insane. He’d just agreed to try a friendship with Lois. To put himself in the same patterns all over again.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself back to the present. They were stuck in this car for now. Professional. He could do professional. “Thanks. Guess I’m just good at finding things,” he said lightly.

Lois smiled. “Yeah, you do seem to have a knack for that.”

Ten minutes after they’d started eating dinner, Dr. Kelly walked out of the office building. Without saying a word, they packed their food up, and Lois discreetly pulled the silver Jeep out to follow the doctor’s car.

“Any bets on where she’s headed?” Lois asked Clark.

“Not really. There’re too many options depending on how deeply she was involved with Luthor’s criminal activities. We also have no idea how much Luthor trusted her. She may be carrying on with his plans, or she may be coming up with something entirely different.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

They drove on in silence until Dr. Kelly pulled into the Perpetual Pines Cemetery and stopped.

“Huh. Not where I would have expected,” Lois commented. She grabbed a flashlight out of her bag and eased herself out of the Jeep, taking care to close the door quietly.

Clark followed.

Dr. Kelly wended her way through the various gravestones and monuments until she reached a mausoleum and went inside.

“What do you think?” Lois whispered.

“I think we should wait and see what happens,” Clark replied, pulling his glasses down and x-raying the building. Dr. Kelly rotated a candelabra lit with light bulbs, and a casket slid to the side showing a set of stairs. She walked down them, and the casket returned to its previous location. Unfortunately at least part of the belowground area was lead-lined. Clark could see part of the stairs, but a wall intervened, and Dr. Kelly was lost to sight. He pushed his glasses back up. He was pretty sure he’d hear when the casket moved again.

“I guess,” Lois said dubiously. “If she’s not back out in a few minutes, I vote we at least go look in the mausoleum. Maybe it’ll give us a clue.”

Clark made a noncommittal noise.

“So, have you ever been in a cemetery at night?” Lois asked quietly.

“Yes,” Clark replied.

Lois nudged him. “C’mon. More details. I once followed this crazy guy who was digging up bodies and using them to commit insurance fraud.”

Clark gave her an incredulous look.

“Long story.” She waved a hand. “Your turn!”

Clark thought furiously. He’d actually been in several cemeteries at night. He’d always found them peaceful places, plus they made for a quiet, usually uninhabited, place to take off and land, both before and after he’d become Superman. He’d also chased various criminals through them. For some reason superstitious people thought they’d be able to evade an apparently supernatural figure by detouring through a cemetery, as though he’d be trapped inside. However, none of those instances were anything he wanted to share with Lois. That first time he’d been in one though …. “When I was a kid, a friend dared me to spend the night in a cemetery.” He shrugged. “I did it.” And, as the cemetery had been an old abandoned one a couple miles from town, it had been blissfully quiet, blissfully still, and fascinating to walk through, reading the crumbling headstones. It was part of why he’d begun using cemeteries later in life to hide his super activities.

“Well, yeah. Everyone does that. I guess I keep forgetting you grew up in Kansas. Not much to do around there for excitement, other than the corn festival,” she teased.

“If you say so,” Clark said.

The silence hung between them until a few minutes later when Clark heard the casket shifting once more. Apparently whatever Dr. Kelly was doing didn’t take long.

Dr. Kelly came out of the mausoleum, and they furtively followed her back to her car.

“What do you want to do now?” Clark asked after they’d gotten back into Lois’s Jeep.

Lois thought for a second. “Let’s follow her for now. My gut says this is probably the jackpot, but maybe there’s more.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Do you think Lex’s body is in that mausoleum?” Lois asked, pulling out to follow Dr. Kelly. “But why would a dead man need a doctor?” she added.

Clark grimaced. “Who knows? Clone? Cryogenics? Luthor always had some crazy scheme, and it wouldn’t surprise me to find out that his associates are the same way.”

Dr. Kelly turned to enter a residential area, and, before long, pulled up in front of a luxurious townhouse. They watched her get out of her car and go into the townhouse. Clark looked at the number. “This is the address Jimmy has for her.”

“Clark, let’s go back to the mausoleum. She’s probably here for the night. What do you think?”

“Sure, Lois.”

***

Clark scanned the inside of the mausoleum. No hidden cameras. Apparently no security at all, other than the hidden entrance. Something about that set him on edge.

Lois moved around the room, feeling the walls for something out of place. As she did so she dislodged the candelabra and it swung sideways. “Ah ha!” she said, turning it as far as it could go. The casket once more slid to the side. “Well, I guess we know where she went,” Lois whispered.

Clark nodded.

Cautiously, they made their way down the stairs, Clark holding Lois back so he could take the lead. At the bottom, they halted to survey the room. It was little more than a concrete box, much like the old bomb shelters. The glass casket Bobby Bigmouth had mentioned was in one corner. Various machines beeped from nearby—as though they had entered Dracula’s ICU.

“Clark!” Lois squeaked, walking towards the casket.

“I know,” he agreed quietly. The body inside was almost certainly Lex Luthor’s, and the idea that he was alive and on life support in this very bunker left a sick feeling in the pit of Clark’s stomach.

“Well, well, well—Lois Lane. I’ve been wanting to run into you for quite some time,” said a female voice from behind them.

They turned as one to see Dr. Kelly standing at the top of the stairs, a gun in hand and a large man standing just behind her.

“Why?” Lois asked defiantly.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you following me?” she asked with a smirk.

Neither of them replied.

The woman remained focused on Lois. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she cooed, then added in a hard voice, “You ruined the only real man in Metropolis.”

“If you’re referring to Lex Luthor, I don’t know why you think I ruined his life,” Lois shot back. “I had nothing to do with the initial investigation.”

“Oh, but it was the Daily Planet bombing that started the whole thing.” She took several steps towards them, halting just out of reach. The man followed, also wielding a gun. “I think we can all agree that you were the catalyst for that.” She held up a hand to forestall any response from Lois. “Now, I’d say turnabout is fair play: You put Lex in a coffin. This is a cemetery. I’m sure we can find someone who’s willing to share their coffin with you. No one will ever find you, either of you,” she said silkily.

Clark glanced around the room. There was neither time nor space to change into his Suit without anyone noticing. He’d have to do whatever he did as Clark.

“Any last words?” Dr. Kelly purred.

Lois nudged Clark and subtly glanced at the man standing beside Dr. Kelly. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Yes! What is it with Lex and psychopathic women?” Lois demanded, throwing herself at Dr. Kelly. The gun went off as it flew out of Dr. Kelly’s hand, but the bullet missed everyone.

Fortunately, after being powerless for so long, Clark had a very good idea of how hard a regular person would punch. So, he carefully tackled the man and punched him just hard enough to render him unconscious.

Dr. Kelly went flying backwards from Lois’s tackle. They grappled, each trying to reach the gun. Eventually, Lois was able to get in a good kick—one that sent Dr. Kelly stumbling directly into the coffin. The machines immediately began beeping rapidly as the heartbeat skipped and eventually flatlined. Dr. Kelly ran over to where the long beep issued from the machines and frantically pushed buttons, her eyes skittering between the coffin and the machines. “Lex! No! No!” she screamed, running over and putting her hands on the coffin.

Clark turned to help Lois. Together they managed to subdue Dr. Kelly. Lois found some extra cords in a cabinet and used them to tie up Dr. Kelly, who continued to struggle and wail. They also tied up her associate, and Clark took the precaution of emptying both guns.

“I’ll go call the police,” Clark said.

Lois nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll keep an eye on them. I wanna go through these cabinets anyway.”

“All right.”

Clark maintained normal human speed until he was able to get under cover, then changed into the Suit and returned to Lois.

“Lois,” he called as he came down the stairs.

“Superman!” she responded, taking a half-step towards him before she remembered their last conversation. Distance, she reminded herself. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard a gunshot, but it looks like you have things under control. Need some help taking out the trash?”

Lois turned back to the file cabinet. “I don’t think so,” she said, forcing her voice to sound uninterested. “Clark went to call Henderson. I imagine he’ll be back any minute. I want to make sure Henderson sees all this anyway.”

“Very well.”

“Thanks for the offer though,” she added, looking up at him.

Superman nodded, then went outside, changed back into his Clark clothes and called Henderson, all the while feeling a little baffled. Lois had seemed so upset at the idea of distancing herself from him. Yet here she was, acting as though he were no one special. He hadn’t expected it to be so easy for her. Perhaps she hadn’t really loved Superman after all. It should have thrilled him; instead he was left with an ache in his chest and a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. If Lois truly got over Superman, what was he left with? He already knew that she didn’t love Clark—would never want more than a friendship with him.

Mentally he shook himself as he headed back down the stairs into the bunker. Now was not the time to dwell on Lois.

Lois looked up from the file cabinet and smiled. “Clark! Look what’s in here! It’s too bad there’s not a copier.”

Clark walked over. “What’d you find?”

“Nothing much.” She smirked. “Just a whole other section of Lex’s empire—one that we hadn’t connected with him yet. And check it out: Sasho Corp records. There’s definitely something there.”

“Great! These two give you any trouble?”

“Nope. Dr. Kelly went off on another rant about Lex and how I’d killed him twice now, but I’ve been ignoring her.”

“Good.” Clark laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Luthor made his own choices and so did Dr. Kelly. You didn’t kill him—either time.”

She smiled up at him. “Thanks, Clark.”

Clark gave her a small smile, then began to read through the folders at super speed, flipping through each of them as though he were skimming.

***

It had been four days since they’d discovered Dr. Kelly with Lex’s body. The time had passed in a flurry of investigation. The files in the bunker had resulted in a second wave of Luthor-related arrests, and Dr. Kelly was being held without bail, charged with attempted murder. Luthor’s body had been returned to the coroner.

Lois hadn’t even touched her personal investigation. Just maintaining her equilibrium in the face of finding Lex alive and then watching him die a second time—not to mention the emotional effort of pursuing Clark—had been all that she could handle. But now that things were starting to settle down a bit, she’d decided to call Lucy. It was the first time she could remember ever going to her sister for advice, but she was feeling stuck, and Lucy had actually seen a therapist about the same childhood that Lois had lived through. It was possible that Dr. Friskin had given her some good advice.

After work, Lois changed into comfy clothes and ensconced herself on the bed with ice cream, her lists, and the telephone.

*Ring* *Ring* *Ring*

Lucy answered almost at once. “Hello?”

“Hey Luce. It’s me,” Lois said.

“Hey Lois! How’re you?”

Lois suppressed a sigh. “Um, okay? It’s been kind of a long week.”

“What’s up?”

“Not much—just found Lex Luthor’s body. Basically, he’d hired Dr. Frankenstein, and she was in the process of bringing him back to life,” she said quickly, then added, “Y’know, the usual.”

“Ugh! Really?”

“Yeah. Really.” Lois shuddered. Lex had been alive when they’d found him. Alive. If Dr. Kelly’s procedure had worked, he could have come back and come after her. Maybe before that might not have bothered her so much, but now, having spent the past four days yet again plumbing the depths of his depravity and re-realizing that Lex never gave up—she forced herself back to the present. “But that wasn’t actually why I was calling,” she said.

“Oh?”

“Um, I wanted to, uh—you said that you went to see Dr. Friskin—”

“Did you go see her?” Lucy interrupted.

“No, not yet. I had a psychiatrist try to kill me last week, so I’m kinda not ready to see another one, at least not right now.”

Lucy chuckled. “I don’t know how you survive your life. I would hate your job.”

Lois frowned. “It’s not all like that.”

“Uh, Lois—” Lucy began.

“Anyway, I didn’t call about my job,” Lois said forcefully. She hesitated, then took the plunge. “I was wondering if we could talk about what Dr. Friskin told you.”

Silence reigned for a long moment, and then Lucy spoke. “See, this is why I didn’t tell you about Dr. Friskin before. You were supposed to go see her yourself, not pick my brain.”

“Please, Lucy.”

Lucy huffed. “Only if you don’t make fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you? When have I ever made fun of you?” Lois demanded.

“Or tell me what to do,” Lucy said severely. “I’m doing this my own way right now. I don’t want your advice. If we have this conversation, it’s sister to sister, not little sister to big sister. Got it?”

“Okay. I’ll—I’ll do my best,” Lois promised.

“What do you want to know?”

Lois swallowed hard. “After everything happened with Lex, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I’ve been trying to figure out why Lex, why I couldn’t see that he was evil, why I was attracted to someone like that in the first place, why I let him make all of ‘our’ decisions. I realized that part of it was because he made me feel valued. I mean, he could have had any woman in the world, and yet, he wanted to marry me. When we were kids I overheard Dad telling Mom it’d be a miracle if we ever found anyone worthwhile who wanted us, and I realized that ever since then I’ve been trying to prove him wrong.”

“Ouch! Sounds like something Sam would say,” Lucy said in a hard voice that Lois couldn’t remember ever hearing.

“Yeah,” Lois said quietly, then added, “I just wondered if you think our childhood has affected your love life, and, if it has, how. Did Dr. Friskin say anything about all that?”

“Yes, it’s affected my love life—obviously,” Lucy said, and Lois could practically hear her eye-roll. “Do you think I really want to date losers? Or to break up with any nice guys that slip through the cracks?”

“Um—”

“Don’t answer that! It was rhetorical.”

Lois gave a forced chuckle. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good. I don’t know what to tell you, Lois.” Lucy paused, then continued, “Dr. Friskin helped me realize that I date jerks because I don’t think I deserve someone nice—part of that whole unloved child thing—and because I don’t want to be Ellen.”

Lois’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean you don’t want to be Mom? Mom was married to a jerk.”

“Ellen was married to a jerk, and her father was a jerk, but she let Sam destroy her. She didn’t become an alcoholic until after Sam started having affairs. She loved Sam, and it destroyed her,” Lucy said quietly.

Lois shook her head. “I’m confused.”

“Lois, it’s much easier not to love someone who’s a jerk. You can like them. You can even feel affectionate towards them. But the relationship just doesn’t go deep enough for love. I like to date. I like to have fun with guys. Dr. Friskin actually thinks that’s just me trying to get the attention I didn’t get as a child. She had just suggested that I take a break from dating right before I left Metropolis. But I’m not ready to make that big of a change right now—maybe when things are more stable.”

Lois almost bit her tongue to keep herself from pointing out that a big part of the instability in Lucy’s life was caused by the parade of men she went through. She’d agreed to keep her mouth shut—she just hadn’t realized how hard that would be. “Okay. So you specifically pick jerks to date so you won’t end up like Mom?”

Lucy was quiet for a moment. “Well, it’s not really a conscious choice. I only date guys I’m attracted to, and that bad boy image is attractive to me. So more often than not, I end up with jerks.”

“So Dr. Friskin’s advice was to stop dating altogether?”

“Well, that was the first part of her advice. She told me that my past is like a weighted vest—y’know, like that one I got for working out right before I moved here?”

“Um, yeah. What about it?”

“Dr. Friskin said that I can’t keep my childhood from affecting my love life—it’s impossible to throw away your past—all I can do is choose how it affects me. So, she said that I can pretend I’m not wearing it—I can avoid doing things because my past makes them difficult, or I can wallow in it—spend all my energy trying to get rid of something that can’t be gotten rid of, or I can use it to become stronger—I can acknowledge it’s there, but do hard things anyway.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, that’s about what I said. Sorry I don’t have a better answer. I wish I could tell you that it’s easy to just move on. Obviously, I haven’t done it yet. But I figure I’m at least semi-aware of what I’m doing in my love life now, which is a step in the right direction, right? Can’t fix a problem you don’t know you have.”

“Yeah.”

“So, speaking of guys, how are things going with Clark?” Lucy asked.

Lois gave a small smile. “Better, I think.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s agreed to give our friendship a chance. That’s progress. And, uh, I realized that I wasn’t a good friend to him before. I didn’t listen to him. I didn’t really trust him. I didn’t value him the way I should have. So I’m trying to change.”

“Well, as Dr. Friskin would say, ‘that sounds like excellent progress,’” Lucy said with a smile. “I really am proud of you, Lois. It’s not easy to admit that you made a mistake.”

“Especially after having our father,” Lois said wryly.

Lucy gave a bitter laugh. “Lois, that was only you. He criticized everything you did, but at least you got some attention. He didn’t even care enough about me to remember that I was there most of the time, and when he did remember, he brushed off any ‘failures’ because he said that I was just too air-headed to do any better.”

Lois searched for something to say. She’d never realized that their father had been so cruel to Lucy. “I’m sorry, Luce. I guess I was just so focused on my own problems that I never realized how awful he was to you.”

“It’s okay, Lois. I really appreciate all the stuff you did do for me when we were younger.”

“I love you, Luce,” Lois said, her throat clogged with tears. “I’ll always be around to help.”

“Thanks. I love you too, Lois.”

They were silent for a moment, before Lucy continued, “Well, I guess I should get going, otherwise I’m going to be late for work.”

“Okay. Call me back sometime when you can tell me how you’re doing. Thanks for talking, Luce. It helped.”

“You’re welcome, Lois. Bye!”

“Bye,” Lois said and hung up the phone. She opened her ice cream and took a bite. Talking to Lucy had actually been helpful. She hadn’t looked through her list of guys from a safety standpoint. It explained a lot—like why she’d rejected Clark. She hadn’t been able to figure that out the last time she’d looked at her lists, but she was pretty sure it was for the same reason Lucy dated jerks.

She’d been guarding her heart even more zealously after Claude had broken it. Love had been her ideal, but it was just too hard to be that vulnerable. Superman was the exception, but that was only because, silly her, she’d thought he’d never break her heart. He was safe, whether her subconscious figured he would never be in a relationship with her or that he would never hurt her. After all, Superman was pure good—or at least she’d thought he was pure good before he’d rejected her. Now … she was starting to see him as just another man—a powerful, honest, good man, but still a man.

Lex had made her feel wanted, but she’d never loved him. She’d known that even on the day he’d proposed. But that was part of what had made him safe enough to marry.

Clark though, he had potential. Even from that first moment when she’d seen admiration in his eyes and had told him to keep it to himself, she’d felt it. She could fall for Clark. She’d admitted it on her wedding day: Lois Lane-Kent. None of the other guys she’d been involved with were forever types, but Clark was. And that was why she’d run as fast as she could from a romantic relationship with him. Loving him meant that her heart was incredibly vulnerable. It was no wonder she’d been so desperate to regain his friendship. She needed Clark—because she loved him.

Which left her where? What was it Lucy said Dr. Friskin told her? She couldn’t get rid of her past, but she could choose how to handle it. She could choose if she was going to continue rejecting love, rejecting Clark.

She sighed and collected her ice cream to put it away. It was no wonder people complained counseling was exhausting. It was 8 p.m., and she was ready for bed.

***

The weather was practically perfect—clear blue skies, plenty of sunshine—and they were walking to work together for the third day in a row. Lois had asked, and, in keeping with his agreement to work on their friendship, Clark had acquiesced. Even though conversation still kept to work for the most part, Clark felt almost hopeful; it felt like they were on the right path. Lois’s apparent character adjustments had held for the past week. She still snapped at him occasionally, but she was making a concerted effort to listen to him, and he appreciated it. Maybe it was time to try talking about things of a more personal nature.

He glanced sideways at her, then said with a smile, “Well, you must be excited.”

She returned his glance. “Oh, I don’t know Clark, we’ve walked to work the past three days.” She smirked. “Walking to work with you isn’t really the thrill it used to be.”

He chuckled. “No, no, no. The Kerth awards. They announce the nominees today.”

“Oh, is that today?” she said innocently.

Clark refrained from rolling his eyes. “C’mon, Lois, you get nominated every year.”

“Oh, not every year.” Lois grinned. “Just every year since I’ve been eligible.”

“I bet you’ll win it for the Bolivian drug cartel series.”

She shrugged. “Well, the dinner’s always fun. It’ll be a nice way for me to break in that new black dress I bought.” She had a sudden thought. It was rather soon, but she was allowed to bring a date to the Kerths. She could ask Clark. Even if he said no, asking would be an opportunity to be intentional about her past. And if he said yes, it’d be a chance for them to move things forward. Her heart sped up. She took a deep breath, pasted on a teasing smile, and turned towards him. “Did you get your tux yet?” she asked.

Clark stared at her. “The dinner’s just for nominees, Lois.”

She steadied herself. “And their dates. You want to go?”

Clark slowed. Go? Was Lois asking him as a friend or was this a date date? They had yet to address his ill-fated declaration of love. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about with her, at least not yet. She’d apologized. She was working on changing. But some part of him was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Trust was something that took time to rebuild. He’d agreed to work on their friendship though, which meant spending time together outside of work. “Sure,” he said shortly.

Lois forced a smile. “Great! Why don’t you run in and get a tux,” she suggested, gesturing at the nearby tux shop. “I’m going to go to the bank. I’ll meet you back here in five.”

“All right.”

Clark walked into the tux shop and ordered a tux. This was something he wanted, he reminded himself as the saleswoman took down his measurements. Lois was almost certain to get the award, and this way they could ease into hanging out together again. In fact, this might be better than doing a movie night or something along those lines. There’d be lots of other people around and not much opportunity for private conversation. Plus, the night had an agenda. They wouldn’t be sitting around awkwardly. The thought made the weight in his chest lighten. He could do this. They could do this.

Lois wasn’t waiting for him when he got back outside, so he headed over to the bank. Looking in through the front window, he could see that the bank was full of people apparently collapsed where they’d been standing, as though the building had been gassed. Lois was laying on the floor in the middle of what had been the queue. He rushed in and crouched down by her. Thankfully, she seemed to be asleep, rather than injured. He shook her gently. “Lois! Lois!”

She stirred, then slowly sat up. “Clark?”

“You okay?”

She looked at him dazedly. “The last thing I remember I was standing here, and I felt really tired.”

“Well, apparently you weren’t the only one,” he said, giving her a hand up.

“What could have knocked us all out so fast?” she asked, noticing that everyone around her was still asleep, though starting to stir.

“I don’t know,” Clark said. As he turned to look with her, he saw the open bank vault. “But somebody made a big withdrawal,” he said, pointing to the vault.

A voice issued from speakers inside the vault: “Hello, Metropolis. I’m here to teach you a lesson: don’t get too attached to material things because you won’t have them for long—but you will catch up on your rest, and you’re gonna need it,” the voice said, finishing with a maniacal laugh.

Lois snorted. “What is it with psychopaths and their attempts at ‘witty repartee’?”

Clark shrugged. “Who knows?” He turned and began helping people up, making sure they were uninjured.

Lois followed suit.

***

Lois had been on hold with the police for over forty-five minutes and transferred back and forth several times. She’d been on the phone for so long that Clark had finally left to go talk to the bank manager to find out if anything new had turned up while the police were investigating. She was reaching the end of her limited supply of patience. In the bank, she’d been able to be sanguine about the robbery—the bank had insurance after all—and she was more focused on figuring out who exactly had committed the robbery and how they’d done it. Waiting around on hold had given her time to realize that it was her bank that had been robbed. Her account. Her money. Her ability to pay her bills that was in jeopardy. She’d been in the bank to make a withdrawal so that she could go get groceries. She knew that these things could stretch out, and she was starting to get stressed about her finances in the interim.

Finally the police captain she’d been on hold for came on the line. “Ms. Lane, you have to understand—”

“Look, I’ve talked to your sergeant, your detectives, and your lieutenant. Now, Captain, how can the police have no leads?” she demanded.

“Ms. Lane, that’s not true—” the man began.

“Oh, I see. You have leads. You’re just not willing to share.” She gritted her teeth. “Didn’t your mother teach you it’s rude not to share?”

The only response was the sound of a dial tone.

“Hello? Hello?” she said. Please don’t have hung up. Please don’t have hung up, she begged internally. She did not want to go through the rigmarole of trying to get a live human being on the phone again! Not today.

No one answered.

She slammed the phone handset onto the receiver. Today was not turning out to be her day. She grabbed a pen and her notepad and began trying to write down the names of everyone she’d talked to at the police station so far. There had to be someone she could persuade to share their information. Unfortunately, the pen was being less than cooperative.

Jimmy walked up, chuckling “‘Didn’t your mother teach you it’s rude not to share?’ Good one!”

“Didn’t your mother teach you it’s rude to eavesdrop?” she shot back, drawing circles on the pad and shaking the recalcitrant pen. “What is with this pen?”

“It’s not a pen,” Jimmy said, leaning on her desk.

She turned the force of her displeasure on him. “Jimmy, if this is some zen parable about pens not being pens and desks not being desks, I’m not in the mood.”

Jimmy stood up. “Hey, trust me. This’ll cheer you right up. It’s a bug. I stuck it on your desk.” He pulled a mini headset out of one ear and handed it to her. “Look, you listen on this. Cool, huh? I got it at Spies R US.”

She flipped the “pen” and headset over, reading the label. “Super-hearing for sale.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Well, it’s not super, super. It’s only got a range of about 500 feet, but here’s the cool thing: see this switch?” He took the headset back and manipulated a tiny red switch. “AM/FM radio.”

Just then Clark came striding towards them, holding a VHS aloft, his expression triumphant. “I got it!” he proclaimed, walking past them towards the media center.

Lois’s gaze followed him. “What?” she asked.

“Video from the bank’s security cameras.” Clark moved to put the VHS in a VCR. “Now maybe we’ll find out why the police have such a tight lid on this thing.”

Lois and Jimmy both hurried to join him.

Clark smirked. “The bank manager was a fan—plus he appreciated us sticking around until the police got there this morning. Pays to help out, eh?” He pressed play.

As the video showed the bank’s door opening and everyone in the bank collapsing, Clark heard a buzzing hum come from the speakers. He pointed at the television and turned to look at Lois and Jimmy. They were both staring at the screen, heavy-eyed and swaying where they stood.

Clark paused the video. “It’s the sound,” he said.

Jimmy’s eyes opened. “Sound?”

“What sound?” Lois asked, shifting to wake herself up.

“The sound in the bank, here.” He gestured to the TV. “The one that made you guys just—made us all just—get drowsy, just now.”

Jimmy peered at the TV screen. The tape was frozen on several men in black leather jackets and motorcycle helmets entering the bank. “Look! Check it out!”

Clark immediately turned to stare at the TV, trying to figure out what had sparked Jimmy’s interest. “What?”

Jimmy jabbed a finger at one of the men in the foreground. “That jacket! I wonder where he got it.”

Lois frowned. “Will you pay attention?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Can’t a guy appreciate a good jacket?”

Clark turned to stare at him, eyebrows raised. “A biker jacket?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about getting a biker jacket,” Jimmy said. He smirked.”It’d probably be a good look on you, CK.” Returning his attention to the TV, he shook his head. “Wow, the first sound that could put a whole room to sleep.”

“No, I think Yanni did it first,” Lois said, turning to walk back to her desk.

Clark ejected the tape, then followed. He briefly considered returning to his own desk, but they did need to decide where they were going to go from here, so he sat down in the chair next to Lois’s desk.

Just then Perry strode out of his office. “All right, everybody, let’s gather ‘round and listen up,” he yelled. “Nominations for the Kerth Investigative Journalism Prize are in, and I’m happy to announce that one of our very own has gotten the nod—”

Lois hugged herself internally. Finally! Something about this day was going well. Perry said the same thing every year, and it never failed to embarrass her. But she loved being the best investigative journalist in Metropolis, and she loved that everyone knew it. God knew she needed it this year. After everything with Lex, it was good to be reminded that she was still number one. She tuned back in to Perry.

“so let’s have a big round of applause for—” Perry continued.

Lois stood, a huge smile on her face.

“—Mr. Clark Kent,” Perry finished, waving a hand towards Clark.

Lois sat down with a thump.

Everyone else clapped.

Clark stayed seated, not quite sure that he’d heard correctly.

Perry walked over to where Clark sat. “Well, c’mon, Clark, don’t be shy. Stand up!”

Clark stood, and Perry shook his hand.

“Y’know, I think you stand a real good chance of winnin’ this,” Perry said. “That retirement home scandal—”

Lois turned abruptly, looking up at Perry. “Wait! He got nominated for the retirement home piece?” she demanded.

Perry nodded. “He certainly did. It was first-class journalism. Emotional wallop.”

Lois turned back to her desk, cradling her head in her hands. Her lungs ached, as though no matter how deeply she breathed, she just couldn’t get enough air. So much for being the best in the business. How could they have nominated Clark? Especially considering that he’d been nominated for his story on a retirement home scandal. The Bolivian drug cartel series Clark had mentioned that morning had had a global impact—laws had been re-written, crooked politicians ousted, and lives changed. Far more impact than the ten old people Clark’s story had affected.

Jimmy walked up to them just then. “Good pictures too,” he added, “if I say so myself.” He looked at Perry. “They didn’t happen to mention?”

Perry frowned. “Olsen, that was your first photo assignment. Even Secretariat didn’t win the purse the first time out.”

“Who?”Jimmy asked.

Perry gave Jimmy a disgusted look. “Boy, I’m glad you’re not in sports.” He turned to Lois. “Now Lois, don’t you, uh, have anything to say to Clark?”

She grimaced. “Uh, right.” She swallowed hard and stood, pasting on a smile. “Clark, I, uh—I’m very, uh—”

Clark raised his eyebrows. “Surprised?”

“Stunned, shocked, in need of oxygen,” she replied breathlessly, her voice going up as she sank down into her chair.

Perry leaned down. “Lois, you’ve been nominated every year. You won three times. Don’t go gettin’ petty. The Planet is a team. One person’s success is everybody’s. You got it?”

She nodded. “Gotten,” she gasped, swallowing down tears.

“Good.” Perry turned back to the newsroom at large. “All right, everybody, let’s get back to work.”

“Congratulations, CK,” Jimmy said, slapping Clark on the back and walking away.

Clark smiled at him, then sat back down in Lois’s extra chair. “Look, Lois—”

Lois grabbed a notebook, and interrupted him. This was not a conversation she could pull off today. “Here’s what I think: I think we should do a ‘who’ and a ‘what.’ Who has the capability of making these sounds? And what would make them?”

Clark sighed. “Sure, Lois. Do you want the ‘who’ or the ‘what’?”

“I’ll take the who,” she said.

“Okay, let’s get started,” he said, standing up to return to his own desk.

***

Clark skimmed through several articles. He found himself alternating between reading at super-speed and getting lost in thought. Lois had been flabbergasted that he’d been nominated. He knew it was because she’d been expecting it to be her, but it still stung. She’d never appreciated his writing, not from day one. Puff pieces. That’s what she called the sort of features he excelled at. He liked the fact that their strengths were so complementary. He did the emotional angles, and she was good at cold, hard facts. Together their writing became something more than what either of them could manage alone.

He glanced over at her. Her shoulders were slumped as she scrolled rapidly through information. She was the picture of frantic misery. He stared down at his desk once more. In a way, he felt guilty, as though it was his fault the committee had picked his article over hers. He knew her confidence had been severely shaken from the whole Luthor fiasco, and she hadn’t rebuilt enough to be able to handle a blow like this, at least not well. It was no wonder that she’d been so touchy earlier.

“Did you find anything?” Lois asked.

Clark looked up. “Every object has its own natural frequency. Now the theory among physicists is: find the precise frequency—it’s like a code—and you can make anybody or anything do whatever you want: fall asleep, blow up, disappear ….” He walked over to sit by Lois. “That is the what. Now the who—”

“There are four cutting edge experts in the field,” Lois said. She gestured to her computer. “One of them died of a coronary four weeks ago. Another has been on a research trip in the Antarctic for the last six months, and then the third is a rock musician, Lenny Stoke,” Lois said, pulling up Stoke’s bio on her computer.

“Sounds familiar,” Clark said, looking over her shoulder at the photo of Stoke.

Lois shrugged. “Put out a couple of albums. Great reviews. No sales. Heavy into sonic R&D. Had some bad luck financially—patents stolen, accountants ripping him off, that sort of thing. And then”—she clicked a key to advance to the next screen—”there’s Derek Camden. He cracked up because he tested a new kind of thought-altering sound on himself. He got shipped off to some state mental ward. Released six weeks ago. Current whereabouts unknown, but get this”—she shifted to look up at him—”Stoke and Camden—they worked together once.”

“Sounds like we’re onto two very likely suspects,” Clark replied.

“Yep.”

“So who do you want to go after first? Camden or Stoke?” Clark asked.

“Why don’t we collect any possible leads, and then we can go check in with our sources and follow up on anything else we find?”

“Sounds good to me.”

***

Less than an hour later they were walking out the front doors of the Daily Planet. Lois took a deep breath. The day couldn’t get any worse, right?

“So who do we go after first? Camden or Stoke?” she asked Clark.

Clark hesitated. Thinking about the Kerths had made him realize that he’d have to ask Lois to the dinner if they were to go together. He’d committed to working on their friendship, and that’s what he was going to do, even if it was uncomfortable. “Actually there’s something I want to ask you first,” he said slowly.

“Shoot.”

“Since we already went ahead and made plans, I was wondering if you’d like to go to the Kerth awards.”

Lois stopped in her tracks. “You mean as your date?” she asked incredulously.

“I was gonna go as yours,” Clark pointed out.

Lois glared at him. She couldn’t believe that Clark was jumping on the “Lois is incompetent” bandwagon. Just because she hadn’t been nominated for the Kerth didn’t mean that she’d descended to mere arm candy. It was how every other arrogant male reporter Perry had tried to partner her with had treated her: the helpless damsel, useless at real investigating, good only for adding photogenicity to the team and seducing information from suspects.”So you want me to hang on your arm and smile and tell people how proud I am of my great big reporter man?” she cooed.

Clark huffed. “You know that’s not what I was trying to say. You asked me. You were the one who wanted to work on our friendship. I just thought we’d have fun and since you already bought that dress—”

Lois started walking down the street once more. “I did not buy that dress for the awards! I bought that dress … around the same time as the awards,” she spluttered, waving her arms. “It was a coincidence, and, to tell you the truth, I don’t even like the stupid thing, and I’m returning it!”

“Lois, I know you’re upset because I got nominated—”

She whirled to face him. “That is ridiculous! We both did great stories. Mine destroyed an international drug network, and yours told the really searing truth about old people—and—and”—she stamped her foot—”I can’t believe that! I mean there’s got to be some mistake! Doesn’t there? They lost my story, or their brains were taken over by aliens, or something—because—” She gasped, trying to hold back the tears. Because the Kerth Committee can’t think I’ve lost my edge, she finished mentally. She couldn’t already be a has-been. She refused to believe her career was on the downhill slide. She looked up at Clark. Hurt spread over his face for a second before sliding into his now customary polite blankness.

And now she’d hurt Clark.

She gave a forced watery chuckle. “Oh God, look at me, this is really pathetic, isn’t it?” She reached out a hand to touch his arm, but then thought better of it. “I’m sorry, Clark. I didn’t know I could be this small. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Clark tried to look sympathetic. “It’s okay.” He took a deep breath. “I know you were expecting to be nominated. Everyone was expecting it—”

“Not everyone,” Lois muttered, thinking of all the articles on her failed wedding that had portrayed her as someone with more luck and guts than integrity and smarts.

“No one’s universally popular,” he said with a shrug. “So do you want to come with me or not?”

Lois frowned. “Oh, Clark, can we talk about this later?”

He nodded. “Okay, so who do we go after first? Stoke or Camden?”

“Let’s go for Stoke,” she said, resuming their walk. “My gut is that he’s the driving force even if there is a partnership.”

“Yeah, but Camden, he—” Just then Clark’s super-hearing cut in with a strange sound. He’d have to put this on hold. “Look, um, maybe the smart thing for us to do is to split up, so we can cover more ground. Two likely suspects. Two of us—” he said, trying to make it sound eminently logical.

Lois frowned. “Split up? What are you? Oh, oh, I get it.” She took a step towards him, putting her hands on her hips. “You’ve got a lead that you want to take care of on your own.”

Clark started walking backwards. Superman really needed to check out that noise, but he hated to leave Lois this way. “Look, no, that’s not it.”

Lois followed him. “No, really, Clark, it’s fine! It’s fine!” she said, the tone of her voice screaming the exact opposite of her words.

“You go after Stoke. I’ll find Camden, and we’ll meet back at the Planet, okay?” Clark said quickly, then turned a corner and rushed out of sight before she could follow.

“Right! And then you’ll have your next award all sewn up. Notice how I’m not getting mad about this?” she yelled after him. “You know why? Because I’m a lot bigger than that!” she finished, kicking a nearby trashcan. She strode down the street, barely even paying attention to where she was going. Never, ever think the day can’t get worse, Lois, she told herself.

How could he? That one tiny taste of fame had obviously gone to Clark’s head, and now—she slowed—now she was losing him again, or she’d never had him. After all, he was right: she was the one who’d asked him to be friends again, and he’d only reluctantly agreed to try—not even to be friends, just to try.

She held back a sob. She’d thought she was moving on, getting past the mess Lex had made, but here she was: no Clark and lined up to be ridiculed by her peers. She just couldn’t hear it all again. Once it got out that she hadn’t been nominated, journalists throughout the city would be all over her, and the furor had just begun to die down. The first month after her almost wedding she’d been inundated with sneers and snide comments from competing journalists. Perry had managed to intimidate most of her co-workers into keeping their mouths shut, giving several lectures on gossipping. But she’d seen the papers; she knew her reputation was in tatters. It was part of why she’d handled the situation with Dr. Carlin the way she had. After listening to the thirtieth comment about how her career was all talk, how she must have been taking credit for someone else’s work, or that her almost-marriage to Lex Luthor had exposed her as a gold-digger without morality, or hearing all the debate about how many cover-ups she’d participated in—well, she’d just lost it.

Her jaw clenched. She’d tried letting Clark back in, which had obviously not been the best idea. She’d tried adding more to her life than her career—again, not the best idea. It was time to push all that aside and claw her way back to the top of the pile. Preferably ASAP before the suits decided she was the expendable one in the “hottest team in town,” and she ended up jobless while still waiting for her bank to collect their insurance.

***

Clark found a deserted alley and changed into his Suit. Flying in the direction of the sound he’d heard, he spotted one of the thieves from the bank standing outside an antiques store, obviously keeping watch. Everyone nearby was asleep or unconscious. He landed behind the black-helmeted man.

“This ends here,” Superman told him, advancing.

The man turned and raised a strange looking gun at Superman. He fired, and the sound Clark had heard earlier was repeated, but it had no effect on him. “How right you are,” the man murmured, turning a dial on the sound gun and shooting once more.

Pain shot through Clark’s skull, and he could no longer tell which direction was up. He wasn’t even sure if his feet were on the ground anymore as he collapsed in a heap on the street. The sound continued on and on, driving its way through his body. Clark shook his head, trying to clear his wavering vision so that he could do something about the thief, but it didn’t help. He groaned as his stomach lurched.

“Superman, this sound is for you,” the thief said as he kept the sound gun firing on Clark. “Now I’m sure you never thought your super-hearing would make you super-vulnerable. Underneath that steel skin, you’re just a sensitive guy, aren’t you?” the man mocked.

Clark forced himself off the pavement and stumbled backwards.

“Your equilibrium’s shot,” the man continued, closing the distance between them. “In a minute, you won’t even walk again, let alone fly,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Police sirens filled the air, and the man whipped around to face the two incoming police cars.

“Drop your weapon, and put your hands in the air,” the police instructed as they got out of their cars, guns trained on the thief.

The thief turned the dial on the sound gun and fired at the police. One by one they were thrown backwards.

Clark gritted his teeth and dragged himself upright. He could barely see through the pain and dizziness, and there was no way he could do anything to help the police right now. He had to get out of here. With a supreme effort, he managed to take off.

It was a miracle that he made it back to his apartment. His head ached. His vision swam, and he barely managed to make it to his bathroom before vomiting up what little he’d eaten that day. He crawled back into the bedroom and pulled off his Suit. Maybe, if he just lay in bed in the sunshine for a while, things would stop spinning, and he could try to get some actual work done.

***

Booting up her computer, Lois collected her coffee cup and defiantly made her own coffee. She’d slipped back into thinking that she needed Clark when she should have been focusing on fixing her career. She hadn’t even touched her personal notes last night. Clark hadn’t made it in yet. Probably still chasing down leads, she thought sourly. She had spent the rest of yesterday touching base with her various sources and doing some more digging into Stoke’s career. No one knew anything about the sound man, but everything she’d learned about Stoke had only confirmed her initial gut reaction.

Perry moved to stand by her desk as Jimmy walked by and dropped a copy of today’s paper in front of her, saying, “Never thought I’d see it—Superman having to run.”

Lois picked it up and looked it over. “Well, knowing Superman, you won’t have to see it again. He’ll think of something,” she said, hoping it was true. She’d known him for almost a year, seen how invulnerable he was, and this was the second time in less than a month that she’d seen him injured. She hoped that if he was badly injured and needed help, he’d come to her.

“Yup, he sure will,” Perry agreed. “But until that time, this paper’s number one priority is findin’ out who that lunatic is.”

Lois nodded. “I’m on it, Chief.”

“That-a-girl!” Perry said, turning to walk back to his office. Just then Clark walked by on the way to his desk. Perry stopped him with a loud, “Oh, Clark!”

Clark grabbed his ear and exclaimed as Perry’s yell reverberated through his head. He’d ended up spending the rest of yesterday in bed and still wasn’t sure how functional he’d be today—it was as though he was hearing nearby sounds with his super-hearing, and the pain was radiating throughout his head and down his neck. He couldn’t exactly call in though. There was no way he could explain why he was such a mess today. “Yes, Chief?” he managed.

“What’d you find out about that sound man?” Perry asked.

“Um, well, uh—” Clark hedged.

“He’s probably got plenty. He’s been out chasing leads,” Lois said.

Thank God for somewhat accurate alibis. He had been chasing a lead—maybe not a journalism lead, but a Superman lead. “Yes,” he agreed.

“Without me,” Lois added.

Clark scowled. “No,” he said, rubbing his aching neck.

Jimmy walked up, looking concerned. “CK, you feeling okay?”

“I just have a little headache.”

“It’s fine, Clark,” Lois said, bringing the conversation back to where she’d been steering it. “You’ve decided it’s best to work on your own.” She kept her face impassive. “I’ve decided you’re right. No argument.”

Perry held up his hands. “Uh—just a minute. Now is there somethin’ goin’ on between you two I don’t know about?”

Just then a voice sounded throughout the city. “Hello, Metropolis. For those of you who haven’t read the papers, I’m the one who brought Superman to his knees. In celebration of that momentous event, I’m creating a new tax: the sound tax. The rate: fifty percent of all money in Metropolis banks. The money will be bagged and waiting outside each branch by 9 a.m. tomorrow. Oh, and one final message to Superman: try and stop me, please.”

Clark forced his face to remain blank. He still had no clue how to handle Metropolis’ latest troublemaker.

Jimmy turned and loped towards the elevators.

Perry, who was still standing by Clark, yelled after him, “Olsen! Where’re you goin’?”

Clark grabbed his ear again. He swallowed hard against the bile rising in his throat.

“I’m going to get you some page-one, prize-winning pictures, Chief,” Jimmy yelled back.

Perry shook his head. Kids. He turned back to Lois and Clark. “All right, what do we got?”

Lois pulled out an enlarged version of one of Lenny Stoke’s album covers, and Perry and Clark moved to stand by her.

She held up the cover so they could see it. “That’s our man, Lenny Stoke.”

“Clark, what’s your read on this?” Perry asked, frowning.

“Well, Stoke knows a lot about sound, but among experts he’s considered hit-and-miss. He doesn’t have the technical know-how to pull something like this off.” He opened the file folder he’d brought with him from his desk and grabbed a full-page photo. “On the other hand, Derek Camden does,” he said, holding up the photo of Camden.

Lois shook her head. “It’s Stoke, Chief. I know it. The theatricality of it all. The ‘look at me, see how great I am.’ It’s pure rock and roll!” she argued.

Perry put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the desk, trying to decide how best to handle the situation. Things had been tense between Lois and Clark for months, and he’d been thrilled to see them making progress the past few days. Now they were back on the verge of open warfare. “Well, it sounds to me like you all are headed for a”—he brought his hands together in front of him—”fork in the road,” he said, his hands moving in opposite directions.

“He forked first,” Lois said petulantly.

“All right. Now if you want to go your separate ways on this, be my guest. Just bag me a headline,” Perry finished as a copy boy came up with proofs that needed his approval. He turned to deal with the proofs.

Clark leaned down on Lois’s desk. Split up? Things had—sort of—been going so well the past few days. They were trying. He hadn’t even realized how much he’d gotten on board with the whole trying thing until he was faced with returning to their previous distance. If only Lois hadn’t jumped to him trying to steal her story. Even after a year of them working together, she still defaulted to thinking he was just like Claude. “Lois, this is stupid.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry I ran off. I’m not trying to steal a story from you. It was a—personal thing. Now, come on, let’s work together.”

Lois glared at him and leaned in. “No. Way.” She stood up and walked away.

Clark stood, his gaze following her.

Perry returned to Lois’s desk. “Son, I’ve seen her like this before. The doors are locked, the alarms are on, and you ain’t gettin’ in.”

Clark grimaced. “Well, I guess time apart isn’t such a bad idea.”

At least he knew now: Lois had chosen her career over her friendship with him. It didn’t shock him by any means, but it still hurt. He guessed the progress they’d made hadn’t really been all that solid.

***

When Lois returned to her desk, both Clark and Perry had left. Since she hadn’t been able to get any good leads the day before, she’d decided to take the bull by the horns. Lenny Stoke owned Stoke Club and apparently kept up with his rock-and-roll career by playing there. She pulled up a file on Stoke and flipped through the photos they had of him. Each showed him with a different woman, or two. “Hmm. Likes trashy brunettes,” Lois said thoughtfully.

***

Clark had managed to get a meeting with Derek Camden’s doctor. They’d agreed to meet at a coffee shop. Dr. Briggs was right on time. They got their coffee and settled at one of the sidewalk tables.

“Thanks for seeing me, Dr. Briggs,” Clark began.

The doctor nodded. “You wanted to talk about Derek Camden?”

“Yes. As I said on the phone, I’m investigating the sound man. Camden has the expertise to design the sounds we’ve found, but I wanted your opinion about whether or not he would be capable of it in his—state, as well as any information on his whereabouts.”

“You do understand that our hospital files are normally confidential, Mr. Kent, but under the circumstances—no one wants a psychopath who can best Superman on the loose. I’m not sure that Derek would be capable of masterminding something like this given his current mental state, but he was released into the care of a friend.”

“Let me guess: Lenny Stoke,” Clark said wryly.

Dr. Briggs nodded. “I spoke to Derek not long after his release. He said that he and Stoke had a new business venture in the works. The last address I have for him was”—he opened Derek’s file and consulted his paperwork—”the Stoke Club.”

“Thanks. You’ve been a lot of help,” Clark said.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Kent. I hope the police are able to stop the sound man soon.”

***

That evening Clark walked into Stoke Club. It was loud, dark, and crowded—basically like most other rock clubs he’d been in. He found a waiter bussing a table and asked if the man knew if Derek Camden stayed here.

“Yeah, Camden was living in a back room over there,” the waiter replied, looking towards a back hallway. “Weird little guy. Kinda jumpy.”

“Thanks,” Clark replied.

“Sure,” the waiter replied as he finished with the table and moved to start on another.

Clark headed towards the back room, weaving his way through the crowd. Surreptitiously scanning the area to make sure no one was paying him any particular attention, he ducked into the room. Hopefully, if someone noticed, they’d think he was trying to find a bathroom. The room was obviously unoccupied. A corkboard with notes hung above a desk in one corner. Scanning it, a card scratched out with permanent marker caught his attention. He x-rayed it and discovered a phone number, which he committed to memory.

Before he could do anything else, the door opened. Clark whipped around as two muscular blondes in black wearing headbands that identified them as security entered.

“Hey, what are you doing in here?” the guard in front demanded.

“I’m, uh, looking for a bathroom?” he replied.

The woman gave him a disbelieving smile, then snapped her fingers at the other security guard.

The second guard came forward, grabbed Clark’s arm, twisted it behind his back, and manhandled him out the door. None too gently she shoved him back out into the mass of people.

Clark staggered, then regained his balance and turned to look at the two women.

“The bathrooms are that way,” the first woman said, pointing across the room.

Clark smiled and gave a little wave. “Thanks,” he said, walking away.

Since the room was crowded with people and full of small tables, he walked along the bar, trying to keep an eye out for Camden. Unfortunately, he tripped over a man sitting at the bar and fell right into the woman seated next to him. “I’m sorry! Sorry!” he said awkwardly. As he stood up and looked the woman in the face, he realized it was Lois sitting there, dressed in a black leather biker vest and black leather pants, heavily made-up, with her hair teased. He stared at her blankly for a moment, then asked, “Lois? What—why are you dressed like this?”

“You’re too much competition for me, Clark, so I’m chucking my career and becoming a groupie,” Lois drawled.

Clark grimaced. “Look, I’ve got a lead on Camden. He was staying here in the club in a back room.”

Just then, a voice came over the club speakers, announcing Lenny Stoke. Lois turned to watch the stage as Stoke came out and began to play.

She turned back to Clark. “That’s great, Clark. I’m happy for you. But, um, you know what? I have my own leads,” she said, an edge to her voice. “So what else is there to say, but see you at the finish line,” she said walking away without waiting for a reply.

Clark stared after her. Things were worse that he’d realized. It was like Lois had put him back at square one, and he didn’t have the energy or the will to regain the ground they’d lost. His heart sank. He couldn’t work with Lois if she was going to treat him the same way she had in the beginning. He remembered thinking just a couple of weeks ago that he’d send out resumes if things got much worse. This was worse. He hated the idea of leaving Metropolis. He was past the lovesick puppy stage though. Kick a dog often enough and it stopped coming around.

The noise level increased, and his ears protested. He covered them, and after giving Lois one last look, he left.

***

Lois pushed her way to the front of the crowd around the stage and started dancing. Unfortunately, there were several other women trying to get Stoke’s attention and they bunched up, forcing her back. Security saw the scuffle and dragged her out of the crowd. She scanned the place thoughtfully. There were several burly men drinking at the bar. She pulled cash out of her biker vest and waved it at them. They appeared interested, so she explained what she wanted. They boxed her in and made their way up to the front. Now with plenty of clear space to dance, she did her best to attract Stoke’s attention. It worked like a charm. As he played, he kept his eyes on her to the exclusion of the rest of the crowd. Once he’d finished the song, he handed her his guitar pick.

Five minutes later they were seated at a table with their drinks.

“You see, I think it gets to a point in a relationship—you know one that’s got this kind of immediate connection,” Stoke said, gesturing with his hands.

Lois pasted a look of rapt attention on her face and leaned forward.

“But it’s not about me, Lenny, and you—” He stared at her for a long moment, then asked, “What was your name again, darling?”

“Linda,” Lois cooed.

“Right, Linda, of course,” he agreed with a chuckle. “But my point is, Linda, that it’s not about names, or identities, or the five or ten minutes we’ve known each other, my darling. Time is irrelevant. Something else is taking over.”

Lois opened her eyes wider. “Wow! What?” she breathed.

“This,” Stoke said, leaning in to kiss her.

Lois leaned forward as though to reciprocate, drink in hand. As she leaned, she poured half her drink on Stoke’s shirt and leather vest.

Stoke jumped back.

“Oops! Oh! I’m so sorry!” Lois said.

“Not to worry, darling,” Stoke said, brushing his shirt and vest off.

Lois surreptitiously slid Jimmy’s spy pen into Stoke’s vest pocket.

Stoke looked down. “What’s this?” he asked.

Lois froze.

“You’ve gotten some on the old vest here, my darling,” he continued, taking the vest off.

“Oh … ,” she said, smiling.

Stoke chuckled. “Don’t worry about it.” He sat back down. “Now where were we?”

“Hey Lenny!” the head security guard called.

He looked over at her. “Yes?”

“There’s a message for you,” the guard replied.

“Right. Thank you.” He turned back to Lois and stared at her blankly for a few seconds.

“Linda,” Lois prompted.

“Linda, I won’t be a moment,” Stoke said, standing up and starting to walk away.

“Lenny!” Lois called after him.

He turned back. “Yeah?”

“Uh—” She smiled and grabbed the vest off the back of his chair, holding it out for him to put on.

Stoke put the vest on, saying, “How kind of you, my darling. Thank you.”

Lois leaned forward, her hands on Stoke’s shoulders. “Don’t forget me,” she purred into his ear.

Stoke nodded. “Not to worry.”

Lois simpered as he walked away. Thank God that he’d left and that she’d managed to keep from kissing him. She stayed at the table, pushing the mini headset farther into her ear, trying to hear the feed over the noise of the club. Unfortunately, all she could hear was static interspersed with faint music.

A few minutes later the security guard returned. “C’mon you guys, party’s over,” she announced. “Everybody out! Out! Out! Out! Come on, out. You guys out!” she yelled, shooing people out of the club.” She tapped Lois on the arm. “Hey, you too, honey. Come on, let’s go.”

“Lenny asked me to wait,” Lois said, staying seated.

“And I’m sure he meant it at the time,” the guard said, then grabbed Lois’s upper arm and hauled her towards the door. “Come on, sweetface, let’s go. Let’s go!”

***

After leaving Stoke Club, Clark had returned to the Daily Planet and called the number he’d found. Naomi Valdez didn’t speak English too well, but fortunately Clark was fluent in Spanish. She’d been a friend of Camden’s in the hospital. She didn’t know where he was, but she did mention that Camden liked to go to Echo Canyon.

Resting his arms on his desk, Clark held his head in his hands. He had a lead to follow up on Camden, although at this point, it’d be better to check it first thing tomorrow morning. It didn’t feel like a success though. Lois hadn’t wanted to partner with him—yes, he knew he’d precipitated her decision by leaving her to go be Superman. But that was just it: Superman would always be there. He’d been down the road of giving up that part of himself, suppressing and hiding who he was; it wasn’t a road he was willing to ever go down again—Lois herself had helped convince him of that. The reality was that their partnership had been harder than pulling teeth the past few months, and there seemed to be no way to change the factors that made it so—when did something become too difficult? When did he cut his losses and move on? He’d already stayed in Metropolis longer than anywhere else, other than Kansas. He still wasn’t sure he could go through with leaving Lois—not unless he just did it. He glanced up at Perry’s office. His light was still on despite the late hour. Looking over at Lois’s empty desk, he made up his mind. Lois had said there was no way she was going to work with him, and it was time that he accepted that.

With a heavy heart he made his way up to Perry’s office. Perry was just coming out, but stopped when he saw Clark.

Clark took a deep breath. “Perry, can I talk to you?”

Perry paused. “Sure, Clark. What is it?”

“Privately?”

“Yeah, c’mon,” Perry said, turning to head back into his office.

Clark closed the door behind him. “I need to know if I can count on you for a reference,” he said bluntly.

Perry stared at him for a moment, then shook himself. “Now, son, you know that Lois just needs time to cool down.”

“I know that. I’ve actually been thinking about sending out resumes for a while now. I just ….” Clark shrugged.

“Clark, you’re like a son to me,” Perry said, putting a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I know it’s been rough ever since Luthor—well, it just takes time to heal. Give yourself some time.”

Clark shook his head. “Chief, time isn’t going to change my feelings.”

Perry held up a hand. “How ‘bout this? Wait a month, and if you still feel this way, you can ask for a transfer to another Planet office, or you can stay here and partner someone else. We have bureaus all over the world. I’d hate to see you go work for a rival paper.”

“What about ‘the suits’?”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout them. They won’t want to see you at a rival paper either.”

“I’ll think about it.” Clark opened the door. “Thanks, Perry,” he said as he walked out.

***

Clark looked up at the sky from outside the Planet. He wasn’t really in the mood to go home to his empty apartment, nor to do a patrol.

Suddenly the sound man’s voice rang throughout the city: “Listen up, Metropolis.”

A vibrating hum filled the city, and Clark heard what sounded like buildings rumbling. He sighed, then found a deeper patch of darkness and spun into the Suit. Some days he just couldn’t catch a break. As he got closer to where the rumbling was located, he could hear a muffled “Help! Help!” He sped up, following the cries to their source. He was horrified to see Jimmy tied to a metal support in one of the disintegrating buildings, another support about to crash onto him. Even moving at super-speed, he only just managed to catch the support before it hit Jimmy. He lowered it to the ground, released Jimmy, and flew both of them out of the collapsing building. Setting Jimmy on the ground, he instructed him to run, then, using his heat vision, he began destroying the small speakers that dotted the nearby buildings.

He blew out those he could see before the sound man responded.

“Well, well, look who’s back for more. This is super!” came the sound man’s voice.

Clark lifted off and flew in the direction the voice had come from. Suddenly, the hum changed to a torturous whine that pierced his brain. He shook his head, trying to focus. He managed to burn out another speaker before the pain in his head and dizziness overcame him, and he fell out of the air onto a car, crashing through the roof.

“Like my new sound? This doesn’t just attack the eardrums, Superman. This is a frequency of 500 million megahertz tearing through you, melting that metallically dense nervous system of yours.”

Clark lay on the destroyed roof of the car, trying in vain to get his wavering vision clear enough to see the speakers.

“To put it a little bit more simply: this is your brain, and this is your brain on sound. Any questions?” the sound man continued.

Clark finally gave up on using heat vision to destroy the speakers. Instead, he ripped the steering wheel out of the car and flung it at the nearby speakers, ricocheting it off the building walls to hit them one by one.

The sound stopped abruptly. “Well, well, well, you must be quite a pool player. I believe that makes it your shot,” the sound man commented through his remaining speakers.

Clark looked around, trying to see if the man might be nearby. “You can’t hide forever,” he said.

“Believe me, I don’t intend to.”

Quiet filled the air, and Clark shakily lifted off. Now he definitely didn’t feel capable of a patrol. He hated to disturb them this late, but he knew his parents would always welcome him, and a piece of his mother’s pie with a side of parental support sounded just about perfect right now.

***

Lois huffed as she entered the Daily Planet bullpen. She hadn’t bothered to go home and get out of her skimpy undercover outfit, but she had covered it up with an overcoat. Various pains and huge hair was all she had to show for her time at Stoke Club. She ached from shoving her way through the adoring fans, her head pounded from the noise level, and she was exhausted. But she refused to quit. Just because she hadn’t been nominated for this year’s Kerth didn’t mean she couldn’t start working towards next year’s. She’d prove that she was the best if it was the last thing she did.

Jimmy was sitting at her desk, typing on her computer. She walked over and glowered at him.

After a few seconds he turned and looked up. “Uh, hey Lois, I was just borrowing your computer. I hope you don’t mind,” he said.

Lois continued to scowl and impatiently tapped her fingers on the shelf by her desk.

“Uh, you see, Superman saved me from this building the sound guy blew up. Even though I’m not a reporter, I thought I’d write down a few paragraphs for the chief, but, uh, I can finish it someplace else,” he continued.

Lois intensified her glare.

“Uh, yeah, let me get out of your way,” Jimmy said, rushing to vacate her chair and collect his papers off her desk.

Lois sat down and pulled the mini headset out of her ear.

With a grin, Jimmy gestured to it. “Hey, you’re wearing the receiver for my spy pen. How’d it work?”

Without a word, she threw it in the trash can. Ignoring Jimmy, she rifled through her drawer and got aspirin. She didn’t think she’d be able to refrain from killing someone if her headache didn’t get better, let alone be able to think straight.

“Uh-huh,” Jimmy replied. Carefully keeping his distance, he reached down and removed the mini headset from her trash can. “I can see you’re not really into the talking thing right now, so I’m just gonna give you some space.”

Lois opened her aspirin bottle and removed a couple pills. She closed the bottle, then returned it to her drawer and slammed the drawer shut.

“Like a couple of blocks,” Jimmy added, hurrying away.

Lois stood up with a groan. She needed water to take the pills, but walking over to the water cooler was far from her idea of a good time. She was just drinking down the pills and water when Perry walked by, carrying his briefcase, clearly on his way home.

He stopped when he saw her, internally shaking his head. Lois dressed in the wildest getups in the pursuit of a story. “Got a minute?” he asked.

Lois wearily readjusted her coat. “Sure, Chief. What’s up?”

“Why don’t you step into my office,” Perry replied.

In silence they made their way into Perry’s office. Perry turned the light back on and gestured for Lois to take a seat. He closed the door, then sat on the edge of his desk. “You doin’ all right? I know you were upset earlier about the Kerth.”

“Yeah, Chief.” She sighed.

“You know that the Kerth committee has nothin’ to do with whether you’re a good writer or not, don’t ya? You’re one of the best, no matter who they decide to award the Kerth to.”

“I am?”

“Of course! You don’t need them to tell you that. It’s not like you to let someone else have a say in your life anyway,” he added.

Lois sat in silence, digesting that thought. Was she letting the Kerth committee have a say in her life? She had gotten upset with their nomination and spent the past couple of days frantically trying to prove that they were wrong … She was, wasn’t she?

“Now, you wanna tell me what’s goin’ on with you and Clark?” Perry asked.

“Huh?”

“What was all that forkin’ earlier?”

Lois huffed. “Chief, I told you: he forked first.”

“Uh-huh. And you had nothin’ to do with things stayin’ that way.”

Lois looked at the floor. “Well ….”

“That’s what I thought.” He paused for a moment. He hadn’t planned on talking to Lois tonight, but with Clark out of the office, this seemed like a golden opportunity. He didn’t want to lose either of his best reporters. “Clark was in here tonight,” he said.

Lois looked up at him.

“Seemed to think the split was permanent.”

“He’s the one who was trying to get the story without me!” Lois protested. “He forked first,” she reiterated.

“Lois, you’re one of the best in the business, but you’re better with Clark than without him—professionally and personally. Now I’ve tried to stay out of whatever’s goin’ on with the two of you, but when one of my reporters tells me he’s gonna start sendin’ out resumes, I can’t just let things go.”

Lois stared at him blankly. “Sending out resumes?” she squeaked.

“Sendin’ out resumes,” Perry repeated. “Now, if you two can’t work together, I need to know. Clark agreed to wait a month. I want you to take some time and think about it.” He stood up. “And if you need to talk, I’m here for ya, darlin’.”

Lois nodded dumbly.

“You gonna be okay?”

Lois nodded again and stood up.

“All right. Just let me know what you decide.”

She nodded once more and walked out the door.

In a daze she made her way back to her desk. Clark? Sending out resumes? She remembered how he’d tried to convince her to work together again. She stared, unseeing, at her empty computer screen.

“Hey, Lois,” Jimmy called, returning to her desk. He handed her the mini headset. “Here! It’ll pick up the bug now.”

Lois stared at the headset for a long moment, then swallowed. “What was wrong with it?” she croaked out.

“Nothing. You just had it set to AM Radio,” Jimmy said and walked away.

She almost wept looking at the tiny button. Maybe she deserved to be a has-been if she was going to make such rookie mistakes. Her job wasn’t at stake anymore, but that didn’t keep her life from collapsing around her ears for the second time in less than six months. Suddenly the bullpen felt far too small.

***

Lois wasn’t even quite sure how she made it home. She remembered sitting at her desk, and then the next thing she knew, she was sitting on her bed.

Wasn’t this what she’d just decided she wanted? To let go of Clark and focus on her career? Clark leaving would facilitate that. But now that she was truly facing that reality—the reality of him being gone, body and soul, instead of just emotionally distant—she found that it wasn’t what she wanted at all. Clark. Leaving. She couldn’t make her brain accept those two words together.

She wasn’t even sure why it was such a blow.

No, that was a lie, and she’d spent the past few weeks trying to stop lying to herself. The truth was that she loved Clark. The thought of him permanently gone stole her breath in a way that nothing ever had. It had been hard when he’d quit during the heatwave, but not hard like this. Not hard like losing a part of herself.

He’d wanted another chance, and she’d turned him down. Why?

She’d never expected him to leave for starters.

She thought back to when he’d run off. She’d been in the middle of a meltdown over the Kerth award, and realizing that Clark had been about to steal their story had been the last straw. But even as he’d been walking away, he’d denied trying to cut her out. And later he’d said that it was personal, not story-related. Would getting nominated for the Kerths really have gone to Clark’s head?

No, that wasn’t who Clark was. If there was anything she’d learned about him, it was that his life was made up of much more than work. He still spent inordinate amounts of time working, the way she did, but he cared about more than work. It was that example that had inspired her to try doing things for others the past couple of weeks.

And Clark had never stolen a story from her—well, except for that one time when he’d scooped her while she was occupied at the Metropolis Sewage Reclamation facility, chasing down the fake lead he’d sent her. But that had been payback for stealing his story and didn’t really qualify as stealing. It had actually been part of what had made her respect him. In fact, far from stealing stories, Clark had shared leads with her even before they’d been partnered.

No, Clark wasn’t the issue. It was the prospect of professional ridicule and losing her standing as a reporter. It was the thought of the Kerth committee agreeing with the myriad of people who thought she’d lost her edge (or had never had one) as evidenced by the fiasco with Lex. It was the thought that maybe they were right.

Lois hugged herself as that filtered through her consciousness. Were they right? Despite months of asking herself that question, she was no closer to an answer.

Perry didn’t seem to think so. Even tonight he’d told her she was “one of the best.” And he’d chided her for her response to Clark’s nomination. He’d flat out said that the Kerths didn’t have any bearing on whether her writing was good or not.

Why couldn’t she have that kind of certainty? Why couldn’t she separate herself from all the negative opinions of her?

She stared at her bedside table where her personal notes were. All these secrets were interconnected, twined to the point she almost couldn’t untangle them enough to examine.

She was attracted to successful men because she was trying to prove her father wrong. Maybe she was attracted to success for a similar reason. Her father had never approved of her becoming a journalist, not that he’d ever approved of anything she’d done. It was difficult to approve of something someone did when you didn’t approve of who they were. She remembered winning her first Kerth and thinking maybe it would prove to her father that she hadn’t made a mistake choosing to go into journalism. She remembered hoping that he’d finally be proud of her, finally want her. Such naïveté.

Such absurdity to want his approval in the first place. Her father was a successful doctor, and that was the only thing he was successful at. He had failed at life. So why bother trying to gain his approval? It was something that baffled and frustrated her to no end.

Maybe this was another area Dr. Friskin would advocate that choice Lucy had talked about. She couldn’t get rid of her past, but she could choose what to do about it. And in some ways, she had. She had moved out early. Before the cyborg boxers, she hadn’t spoken to her father in years. She’d refused to listen to his criticisms. She’d invited him to her wedding, but he’d been too busy to attend and it was a good thing too or she’d have heard all the exact same things her colleagues were saying, but from her father.

Wait a minute. If it was something her father would say, was it something worth listening to?

Probably not.

After all, in his book, her lack of success made her unlovable, which, come to think of it, didn’t make any sense at all. If you had to be perfect to be loved, no one would ever be loved.

Plus his definition of success was so narrow, so unfulfilling. Yes, she wanted to be good at her job, but she’d discovered that she wanted so much more than that. She wanted to love her job and be good at it. She wanted to change the world. She loved the thrill of the pursuit, of discovering someone’s secrets, and of preventing crimes. She cared about justice—it was part of what attracted her to Superman. And she loved writing. Investigative reporting was everything she was passionate about all wrapped up in one package. And by that definition, the Bolivian drug cartel story had been a success, regardless of what the Kerth committee had thought of it. Maybe they’d just wanted to give someone else a chance. She’d taken it personally, but maybe it hadn’t been personal. After all, like Perry had said, Clark’s retirement home scandal story had emotional wallop—it wasn’t her cup of tea, but some people went for that kind of thing. In fact, it fit Clark perfectly. He cared about the disenfranchised. And he’d made a difference in those elderly people’s lives.

And even if the Bolivian drug cartel story had been nominated, it was only one of her stories. Like Perry said, she couldn’t let the Kerth committee run her life. It was hard work, but she loved her job, and she would do it no matter what anyone said.

She stood up and began changing out of her groupie disguise. For the first time since Perry had told her that Clark was considering leaving, she felt like she could breathe. There was a way to fix this. She just had to find it.

She’d fallen back into her old ways, but she didn’t have to stay there. In fact, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to live her life only caring about her job. She thought back over the past few weeks. All those little things she’d been doing—opening doors, saying “good morning,” refilling items in the breakroom, pursuing Clark … Putting herself out there was hard, but the reality was that being more open actually added depth and dimension to her life; maybe it was love in some cosmic fashion bigger than romantic love. Just because she had trust issues didn’t mean she should never trust. That would be the same as making sure she never did anything where she noticed that she was wearing the “weighted vest.” No, the thing to do was to work at trusting.

And the person to start with was Clark.

She decided to go to his apartment and apologize, explain what had been going on with her, tell him that she wanted to go to the Kerths with him. Maybe then they could get back to the story. Clark didn’t know about the bug, and she definitely wanted to go back to Stoke Club and see what they could uncover. After changing into her favorite breaking and entering outfit, she collected everything else she’d need for a stakeout, put it in the Jeep and headed to Clark’s.

When she got there, the lights were off. She knocked on the door repeatedly, but no one answered. Either Clark was sound asleep or he was out chasing another lead—or he was ignoring her. She would wait on the steps for a bit in case he was out.

After waiting for over half an hour, Lois decided to leave Clark a message, and then go to Stoke Club. She considered breaking into his apartment and writing him a note—and if this had happened six months ago, she probably would have, because Clark wouldn’t have cared—but she was pretty sure that it’d be a bad idea right now. She didn’t need to put any more strain on their already disintegrating relationship by invading Clark’s privacy.

So, she used a payphone to leave a message on his machine, telling him that she wanted to talk and that he was welcome to join her in staking out Stoke Club.

Once she got to the Club, she put the earpiece in her ear. This time there was no weird static or bits of music, but there wasn’t anything else either, just silence. Lenny must have discovered the pen, or he’d taken the jacket off, or he might be sleeping. Even if he was the sound man, the deadline wasn’t until 9 a.m.

She pulled out a thermos of coffee and her personal investigation notes. It had been a while since she’d done an overnight stakeout by herself, but she still knew that keeping busy was the way to stay awake.

She wrote up her latest realizations—that she herself was pursuing success because she’d subscribed to her father’s absurd view of success, and she’d been trying to win his approval.

So what had happened with Lex?

The answer came to mind at once: the same thing that had happened with the Kerth—she’d attached her worth to her father’s definition of success, and, when the Planet had been bombed, she’d been desperate to prove that she was lovable. Lex had manipulated her, had kept her off-balance and in a whirl.

For the first time since she’d found out about Lex’s true nature, she knew it wasn’t entirely her fault that she hadn’t seen it; the deck had been stacked against her.

***

Clark landed in front of the Kansas farmhouse. Despite the late hour, the lights were still on. He spun into his Clark clothes and knocked on the door.

He heard his mother’s footsteps almost immediately. Martha opened the door. “Clark! What are you doing here?” she asked with a smile, still in her day clothes.

“Hey, Mom,” he said, stepping in and catching her in a long hug.

“Is that our son?” Jonathan called from the top of the stairs.

“Yes,” Martha called back. She looked up at Clark. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“I can’t just come by for a piece of pie,” he said, trying to sound teasing, but unable to get the flat tone out of his voice.

“You’re always welcome, son. You know that,” Jonathan said as he came down the stairs, genuine welcome and concern in his bearing, despite the fact that he was already in pajamas and a robe.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I do have pie,” Martha commented. “You look like you’ve lost a little weight. How much have you been eating lately?” she demanded.

“Um … you know I don’t have to eat—”

“Yes, but your body is used to it,” she said severely.

“Been a bit busy,” he began.

“We heard about that incident with the—what are they calling him? The sound man? We assumed you’d tell us if you were really hurt, but—you are all right, aren’t you?” Martha asked anxiously.

Clark winced internally. He’d been in knots, even more than usual, over this split with Lois—so much so that he’d forgotten to update his parents. “Um, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was rough, but I’m okay now. We still haven’t caught him yet.”

“How’s Lois?” Martha asked, walking into the kitchen.

“Lois is—Lois is—I don’t know.” Clark sat down at the table and put his head in his hands. “I asked Perry for a reference tonight.”

He wasn’t looking at her, but he could feel his mother’s stare as she put the pie on the table and dropped into the chair next to him, taking one of his hands in hers. “Clark, honey, what happened? You’ve been so happy in Metropolis.”

“I got nominated for the Kerth Investigative Journalism Prize.”

“That’s great, son!” Jonathan said.

“And Lois didn’t, even though she’d been nominated every year since she’s been eligible,” Clark said flatly.

“So she was upset?” Martha asked.

Clark snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

“How does that fit with leaving Metropolis?” Jonathan asked, sitting down at the table.

“About a week ago we talked, and Lois apologized for being a bad friend and for not listening to me about Luthor. She said she wanted to be friends again.”

“That sounds promising,” Martha said.

“Yeah, sort of. I still don’t know how I feel about everything, but things were good for the past week or so. Lois has even been working on changing how she treats people. It was quite refreshing … and then the Kerth nominations came in and … I just can’t do it anymore. She wants to dissolve our partnership. She thinks I’m trying to steal her story, steal her award … It’s just too hard,” he mumbled.

“Clark, you said you’ve been journaling. What did you find out?” Martha asked.

Clark hesitated.

“Talking it out might help,” Jonathan added.

Clark sighed. “Lots of things. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Did you figure out where Lois was coming from?” Martha asked.

“Sort of.” He grimaced. “Luthor was a smarmy scoundrel, but almost no one could see that side of him. He was so practiced at misdirection and manipulation that it was like watching a magician. Anyway, I’m pretty sure Lois actually believed his image; when I wrote that version I could see why she’d fall for him—a rich, powerful philanthropist. I can’t see Lois wanting to be treated like a queen, but, evidently, she liked it.”

Lois had seemed so impressed when she’d told him that Luthor had taken her out for Italian food in Italy. He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. It wasn’t the same thing at all, but he’d so wanted to be the one to introduce Lois to the joys of flying halfway ‘round the world for dinner.

“So she had good reasons for being attracted to Luthor?” Martha prodded.

“Yeah.” Clark sighed again. “And once she’d told me that I was wrong—that Luthor was who he presented himself as—then she couldn’t let herself see anything else.”

“‘Let herself’?” Jonathan asked.

“Yeah. Lois can’t admit mistakes, or at least she couldn’t. As I said, she did apologize last week. But in general—well, I probably shouldn’t go into the reasons; suffice it to say that Lois’s history makes it almost impossible for her to admit when she’s wrong.”

“Then did she have a choice?” Martha asked.

“Of course she had a choice,” Clark shot back.

“I thought you just finished telling us that with her history she couldn’t let herself see that Luthor was anything other than what she’d believed in the first place,” Martha said gently.

Clark raked a hand through his hair. “I—that—she—I don’t know!”

“Honey, you said that Luthor was able to read people and manipulate them extremely well. Given Lois’s history and the situation that Lex Luthor put her in: could she have done anything differently?”

“Mom, everyone has a choice. You can’t say that people make bad decisions because they don’t have the option to make good ones.”

“That’s not what I’m arguing. I’m just trying to help you see Lois’s perspective.”

Clark deflated. “I know, and I think I have. I wrote her perspective, at least the parts of it I could figure out.” He exhaled heavily. “You’re right. She was in an untenable position. And I—I made it worse,” he mumbled. “When I told her that I loved her, I took away my support as Clark, and then I rejected her as Superman because I was hurt, but she couldn’t have loved me. Without knowing who I really am, it’s impossible for her to truly love me.” He paused, then continued. “And I didn’t want to tell her that Luthor was evil as Superman. At the time I was confused, and I thought that I was protecting her, but, through this whole process, I realized it was just spite and the fact that I couldn’t handle having her believe Superman over Clark.”

Jonathan put a hand on his shoulder. “Son, you know it wasn’t a contest.”

“Yeah, I just—she’s always compared me to myself, and it hurts, y’know? Hearing how great Superman is and how not-great Clark is. She’s done it from day one. I thought I’d been able to just brush it off. I knew she wasn’t trying to hurt me as badly as she did. It’s just—” He turned away from his parents, his head bowed. “Am I really that bad? Am I always going to be alone? I mean, the one woman I’ve ever loved, and she loves half of me and can’t stand the other half.”

Martha exchanged a worried glance with Jonathan.

“Oh, honey, no. You’re wonderful, and we love you. You’re such a gift to us, and if Lois can’t see how wonderful you are, then she doesn’t deserve you,” Martha said stoutly, then added, “But if Lois asked for your friendship back, I doubt she ‘can’t stand’ you. And, Clark honey, you just said that you’d made it impossible for her to love you.”

Clark nodded slowly.

“Then, sweetheart, you can’t blame her for not loving you until after you give her that chance,” Martha said.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. I just—I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Do what, son?” Jonathan asked.

“Put myself out there again. Let myself love someone who didn’t trust me and who even just yesterday freaked out and refused to work with me, despite the fact that I apologized. She chose her career over our friendship.”

“Well, why wouldn’t she choose her career?” Martha asked.

Clark frowned.

“Clark, it’s a huge part of who she is—it’s part of what you love about her: that she’s passionate about her life and passionate about justice—and you’re her friend, not her boyfriend, not her husband, not anyone who should be put above her career. I know it hurts because you want to be more—”

Clark made a noise of disagreement.

“Don’t argue. I’m your mother. I can tell what you want underneath all that confusion, and correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure all this is what attracted you to her in the first place.”

Clark’s eyebrows went up.

Martha smiled. “Lois is a mix of determination and vulnerability. Right now it sounds like her insecurities are getting the best of her, but you love that she’s both a strong-willed woman and one who has a soft heart. You wouldn’t want to be with her if she didn’t have that heart, and she wouldn’t be your match if she wasn’t such a strong woman.”

Just then they heard a newscaster announcing a serious fire in Chicago. Clark grimaced. Fires were the worst. “I’m sorry, guys,” he said, standing up. “I should ….”

“It’s all right, son. Go,” Jonathan said, standing up to give him a hug.

“Come back if you need to talk some more,” Martha said, also hugging him. She hesitated, then added, “And bring Lois for dinner if you do end up telling her.”