Okay, guys, this is the last part for a little while. Thank you all for being understanding while I'm dealing with some personal things. It really kills me to put this story on hold. 
But thanks for hanging with me.
I know this seems like a bad place to leave off, but trust me, it's the best place of the few measely parts I've got left. 
~~~~Part 12~~~~
Fine. Clark had left.
Ashamed, embarrassed, whatever. Let him sulk. She had better things to be doing with her time. If he didn't want to talk to her, fine. He didn't owe her anything. Not even his help. And she didn't owe him...
She did.
The money. Her gratitude. But Lois had the sinking feeling that Clark didn't care about that. If he ever came back, he wouldn't care about the money. He didn't really need money, did he? Or a place to live.
He didn't need to help her.
He didn't have to come back. Nothing tied him here to Metropolis. Nothing.
Least of all her.
She sniffled and held her head high. It didn't matter. She could do this on her own. She was Lois Lane. And, like she'd said, she had better things to be doing with her time than wait around and wonder if Clark would care to stop sulking and return.
Like get her life back. Catch the bad guys. And get a...
Front page story?
Her shoulders sagged. Could she even consider herself a reporter anymore?
Lois Lane, top investigative journalist for the Daily Planet, had been dead for three years. She hadn't written anything since she'd left the States. Was she even any good anymore?
She bit her lip and sucked in a breath.
It didn't matter.
She only had to get the bad guys. Put them away for a long time. And by herself if need be. She hadn't depended on anyone for a long time; she shouldn't start now. And certainly not with someone as unstable as Clark Kent.
Lois squared her shoulders and stiffened her resolve. She had the lead still. She had evidence... Nothing concrete yet, but she'd get it.
Somehow.
She wished longingly for the days she could just bellow for a research assistant and have the hard, laborious part of clue-gathering done for her. But those days were long gone. She was on her own now.
The library would be her first destination, she decided. She needed internet access to find out more about St. John Enterprises. Who they were, what they did, who was in charge.
Taking care not to even glance at the spot she'd last seen Clark, she headed out the door, letting it slam shut behind her.
***
Clark returned to Metropolis when the sun was hanging low in the sky, threatening to sink into the horizon. He found himself hovering above the Apollo Motel with trepidation once again.
He'd left her.
He'd been rude to her and left her.
She'd hate him.
What had he been thinking? He needed her help. Needed *her*. And he'd quite possibly ruined any chance he *might* have had.
But she still needed him.
He hoped.
With a trembling breath, he headed down to the alleyway and changed swiftly. The door to the hotel room mocked him. Taunted him. He noted, ashamedly, the lock was still destroyed from when he'd broken in. He should fix that. It'd be the least he could do.
But he was stalling now. He dreaded what he'd find on the other side of the door. An angry Lois? Hurt? Sad? All of the above?
He had *no* clue what he was in for.
He edged the door open slowly, almost afraid she'd attack as soon as he entered. But no knives came flying at him. Not that they'd hurt, but...
Wait a minute.
She wasn't here. He gave a quick glance to the bathroom.
Empty.
She *wasn't* here.
Gone.
But how? She'd left? Stormed out? Or...
Her backpack was still here, lying on the ground where she'd left it. She would have taken it if she'd left permanently.
So maybe she just went for a walk... to cool off or something. Exercise? He'd bet it'd been the former; she'd have been mad. Probably was still mad.
Clark sat down on the bed and glanced at the clock. Three after six. He wished he knew when she'd left so he'd have some idea of when she'd return. Because she *would* return. She had to.
Every minute the clock ticked off grated on his nerves. He got up and looked in the fridge, not really hungry but needing something to do. He shut the door and looked back at the clock. Nine after, now.
Should he look for her? If she was mad, would she resent him for it?
But what if...
Oh, God.
What if she'd been taken?
Hadn't she just relayed that very concern to him last night? That they were still after her? That they could find her at any moment?
The lock on the door was already broken. No force necessary. They could have just waltzed right in and grabbed her, taken her by surprise. And left.
Oh, God. What if they'd kidnapped her?
He'd lost her.
Again.
This wasn't the same as finding out she was dead before he'd ever met her...
This time he *had* met her. She'd asked for his help.
And he'd failed her.
He'd left her vulnerable because he was too stupid, too ashamed... Because he was a pathetic excuse for a superhero and couldn't face up to his fears.
Oh, God.
This had been his chance to redeem himself and he'd screwed it up. Big time. Lois was gone. They'd taken her. And for all he knew, they'd kill her before he could get to her.
Clark spun into the Suit again and rocketed out into the city, the door slamming shut in his wake.
He hovered above the streets, panicking because he had no idea where to even look. St. John Enterprises was the only lead he had, and it was a flimsy one at that. This had been, still probably was, a large-scale operation. The Stateside part of the outfit wouldn't necessarily have anything to do with the security measures. Anyone could have taken her. To anywhere.
Clark tried to calm himself, taking a few deep breaths. Think logically, Kent. Now is not the time to panic.
God, this was *exactly* the time to panic. Lois was gone and in the hands of extremely dangerous men. Men who wanted her dead.
Breathe. He had to breathe. And think.
Clark had no choice but to follow up on the only lead he had. Which meant...
He'd have to go to the Planet to research.
He swallowed hard.
Something else he wasn't ready for. But if Lois's life was in his hands... he *had* to do it. He didn't have a choice.
***
Lois sighed, mentally exhausted from her search. She'd sat at one of the computer terminals in the back of the library, hoping no one would pay any matter to her, and thankful for the later hour which afforded her a bit more privacy. It'd taken her the better part of an hour to track down only minimal information on St. John Enterprises, but at least now she had an address to hunt down. That'd be her next step.
As soon as she had the energy to get up...
She was worn out from all that had happened in the last few days... Well, the last few years, to be more accurate. But last night had been especially taxing, recounting the horrors she'd endured. She bit her lip and shifted uncomfortably in the desk chair.
Clark had been so caring, so kind, so... protective. She'd felt truly safe for the first time in years. She'd slept deeply for the first time in ages. Safe. Comfortable. Because of Clark.
Then earlier this afternoon, everything had changed in an instant. Something had happened to Clark. Something to do with Superman. Something pretty significant was bothering him. And he wouldn't tell her what it was.
She sighed as a headache began to form. People were supposed to be quiet in libraries. Why did it feel like each whisper was a lance through her skull? She’d been staring at this stupid monitor for far too long, that’s what. She leaned back in the rickety chair and forced herself to relax.
She shouldn't be insulted by his reluctance to share everything with her. Just because he'd cried on her shoulder the night before. Just because she'd poured her heart out to him last night. It didn't mean that he owed her anything in return. But she couldn't pretend that she wasn't hurt by what he'd said or by his abrupt departure.
She wondered if he'd even come back. Had he decided not to bother with the nosy Lois Lane? Had she stuck her nose in his business too far?
That inexplicable need to know more about him crept through her again. Maybe if she knew just a little more about him, she could dispel any irrational feelings that remained. If she found out what that something in his eyes had been, she wouldn't have to feel so bereft if she never saw him again.
Lois eyed the computer in front of her. St. John Enterprises wasn't going anywhere. She had time.
She opened a new search page and typed in "Superman biography" with trembling fingers.
At least 100,000 hits.
Wow.
He'd become quite an icon in the year since he'd started as Superman.
Holding her breath, she clicked on the first of the links.
***
Clark stood outside the Daily Planet building in his jeans and t-shirt. His heart was thudding loudly in his chest. The sound of rush hour traffic whizzing by behind him made him even more edgy. Somebody honked and he jumped. Not at him. They weren't honking at him.
Nobody had noticed him yet. But they would. And then they'd attack him like a pack of hungry wolves. He was less safe here out on the street. Too exposed. Too many people.
But inside would be worse.
They knew him. Worked with him... Or at least they had. He was the story of the hour, and he'd been hiding from them. They'd think he was there to make his public statement, give the exclusive to his own paper.
He wasn't. He didn't *want* to be back. He still wasn't ready, and after last night, he wasn't sure he'd ever be.
Stepping inside would seal his fate. There would be no turning back after that. The Planet wouldn't let him hide any longer. It was now or never.
And he desperately wished he could pick never.
But he couldn't.
Lois. He needed to find Lois.
And the Planet was the quickest way to hunt down the information he needed.
Taking a trembling breath, Clark made his way into the fire through the revolving doors.
The lobby. He'd made it to the lobby.
He eyed the elevators... No, they took too long. Too long in a confined space, trapped with people surrounding him.
The stairs would be far better.
Clark rushed over to the door to the stairwell, opened it and hurried inside. He took the stairs at superspeed, but when he got to door to the newsroom floor, he wished he'd gone slower. But maybe quicker was better. Get it over with. At least it was nearing the end of the day, right? Less people?
Quick, Clark. Quit stalling.
He jerked the door open.
And just stood there.
An unnatural silence fell over the newsroom, but for a few surprised gasps, as the whispers about his presence spread like wildfire and everyone turned to look. To stare. At him. A few shrill rings of scattered phones pierced the silence.
The seconds ticked by slower than they had right to, stretching into minutes. He stared, trying not to lose his breath from the shock of seeing *his* newsroom after all this time.
It was the same. Almost. Just like the other universe. Conference rooms along the back wall. Desks arranged in an unknown pattern. His desk was still there. It appeared he still had his job, at least.
He heard the groan of steel against steel and realized he was still holding tightly to the door handle. He loosened his grip.
"Kent!"
He jumped at the harsh bark that carried across the newsroom.
"Didn't think you worked here anymore, Kent."
He stared at Mr. Olsen. There was a half-smile on his face, and he couldn't be sure if it was sarcasm or anger he'd heard in the editor's voice.
Clark resented the fact that a man six years his junior could put him on edge. But then again, everything put him on edge lately.
Mr. Olsen's features softened some as he gestured towards his office. "Why don't you come on in, Kent? Tell me about your vacation?"
The fear that weighted him to the spot lifted. Well, at least enough to allow him to move. One foot in front of the other. Slow, careful footsteps - fifty-three of them - and he was safely inside Mr. Olsen's office with the door closed.
He still felt far from safe, though. Mr. Olsen may be acting amicable now, but Clark knew he had a lot to answer for.
Questions he didn't have the answers for.
He couldn't exactly say he'd been hiding out with Lois La...
Lois!
A whole different panic filled him. She was still out there. The clock was ticking.
Clark shifted his stance uneasily. "Uh... Mr. Olsen?"
"Go ahead, take a seat, Clark."
Clark watched, his whole body tense, as Mr. Olsen strolled around his desk and to his chair, sitting down with an ease about him that only made Clark more edgy. The younger man leaned forward, propping his elbows up on the desk and resting his chin on clasped hands.
"Tell me all about this little vacation of yours."
"Mr. Olsen..."
"Yes, Clark?"
Clark's eyes darted about the room, searching for an excuse to leave in a hurry. He wasn't any good at lying, let alone coming up with a plausible excuse for rushing back out the door when he'd just gotten there.
"Mr. Olsen, I need to go."
His editor's brow furrowed. "But you just got here..."
"I know. I'm sorry, I... I have to track something down and I needed to use the Internet connection here for research. Faster that way."
"A story, Kent?"
Clark couldn't miss the tone of warning in Mr. Olsen's voice, however slight, and was suddenly glad he didn't normally sweat. "Y-yeah. For a story." Confidence, Clark. Sound confident. Be firm. "Look, I'm really sorry, Mr. Olsen, I promise I'll explain later, but this is rather urgent."
He watched his editor's face move from annoyance to curiosity and a little something else he couldn't discern. "All right, Kent, I'll trust you on this. But just make sure you bring back a front page story for me."
Clark nodded hastily, not wanting to press his luck. "Yes, sir."
"Go ahead and use a computer in one of the conference rooms. That way you won't be bothered."
"Thank you, sir."
Clark turned to leave, his hand finding the doorknob.
"And, Clark?"
Clark did his best to bite back an irritated sigh, and looked back over his shoulder. "Yes, Mr. Olsen?"
"Call me James, will ya?"
A touch of a smile crept over Clark's lips. "Sure thing, James."
Seconds later, Clark was in a conference room sitting in front of the computer. His hands flew over the keyboard, amassing all the information he could find on St. John Enterprises.
TBC...
