LAST TIME, ON EMII:

Instinctively she glanced down, towards her feet. She took in the way they were flailing about in the air, the way the trees and tarmac below were rushing past in a grey and green blur. For a moment she was too stunned to think, let alone to do or say anything. However, her paralysis was fleeting and soon thoughts were tumbling through her head. She was in the arms of someone who could fly! Who was it? Why was he doing it? How had he known to grab her at that critical moment? [i]How was he doing it?

Lois tried to twist in her rescuer's grip, wanting to see his face. However, the way she was being held, her back to his chest, prevented that. All she could make out was the sleeve and trouser legs of a charcoal grey suit and a pair of polished black shoes, and she was not really in any state of mind to take in the details of either of those.

Her rescuer deposited her on the flat roof of a nearby high-rise. Then, after saying, "Don't move. I'll be right back," he took off again. He moved in a blur, but not quite so fast that she didn't get a general impression of dark hair and olive skin.

"Stay here?" Lois muttered to herself. "I don't think so!"


NOW READ ON...[/i]


CHAPTER TWO

CJ punched the air with his fist and arrowed upwards in an unwitting copy of one of Clark's favourite flying poses – right arm extended above his head, in line with his body, left arm down by his side. When he was about a hundred feet above the buildings, he paused to look down at the square. Nobody had noticed him. The sensible members of the crowd was too busy scurrying for cover in case the shooter decided to renew his attack. The remainder of the crowd was rubber-necking, alternately staring at the building from where the shots had come and at the empty space where, seconds earlier, Lois had been standing.

CJ pulled down his glasses and concentrated, willing himself to peel back the layers of brick and concrete so that he could see into the room where the gunman had lain in wait. He wanted to crow with success as he found himself looking into an almost empty living room, which evidently was in the process of being refurbished. However, when he took in the two workmen – electricians, he guessed – and their paraphernalia, he realised he'd got the wrong place. He muttered darkly and forced himself to try again.

When he looked into the next floor down, he realised he'd got things right this time. The gunman was struggling to take his weapon apart, trying, and failing in his haste, to fit the various pieces into the correct slots inside the gun's case. Odd, thought CJ. He'd always assumed that assassins were more efficient than that. However, he didn't have the luxury of time to dwell on the thought. Instead, he needed to figure out how he was going to catch the man without leaving too many clues as to his identity. Another thought flitted across the edge of his consciousness: why hadn't he thought this through before, back in the other world when he'd had the luxury of time to do so? Maybe it wouldn't have been such a bad idea to have brought back one of the Superman suits with him, after all.

Whatever, it was too late to worry about it now: the gunman had finally managed to ram the last components home and was snapping the case's catches shut. CJ frowned. If it weren't so completely ridiculous, he would have sworn that the man's hands were shaking.

CJ had to think of something quickly. Then, in the manner of an Olympic swimmer executing a turn at the end of the pool, he spun in mid-air and sped through the open window into the apartment above the gunman's.

Faster than any human eye could follow, CJ snatched a length of electrical cable off the floor and exited the same way as he had entered.

Then he dived through the window into the gunman's apartment and caught the fleeing man just as he was about to open the door. CJ yanked him backwards with more force than he'd intended. The gunman sailed through the air and landed on his backside in the centre of the room. CJ hoped fervently that his victim's cry was one of surprise rather than one of pain. Still moving faster than the eye could follow, CJ flew around in circles, binding the gunman tightly with the stolen cable.

Satisfied that the gunman wasn't going to be able to escape, CJ fled, leaving the other man for Metropolis's finest to discover in due course.

Lois, he thought. He had to get back to Lois. He sped through the air and returned to the rooftop upon which he'd left her.

She was gone.

"Now what?" he muttered, frustrated. He looked out over the square. There was no sign of Lois, but he was pleased to see that some police officers had already arrived and, guns held at the ready, were preparing to enter the building where he'd left the gunman.

He looked around again and spotted something else he needed to deal with. H G Wells was standing on the steps of the courthouse where, for appearances sake, CJ needed to be. He'd have to hurry down before anyone noticed that he'd been missing for... was it really less than a minute? It felt so much longer than that! He'd been back in his world for less than a minute, but already it felt as though hours had passed.

CJ flew down into an alley next to the courthouse, landed and then quietly walked up behind Wells. "Well," said CJ softly, "I saved her."

Wells gave no sign of surprise at CJ's sudden appearance. He turned to face CJ, smiled and said, "Yes, my boy, you did. Congratulations. It was a splendid effort. Now, while I remember, here is your brief—" He broke off abruptly, his attention caught by something happening on the other side of the square. "Oh dear! CJ, you might want to do something about that, before she gets a chance to talk to anyone else."

"What?"

Wells pointed surreptitiously. "Lois Lane has just emerged from that alley over there. Look. Next to the café."

CJ turned his gaze in the direction Wells indicated. There, indeed, was Lois, venturing onto the square, heedless of any possible danger. How was she to know that the gunman had been dealt with? Reckless, he thought. That was what she was. CJ rolled his eyes. "I told her to wait for me on the roof!"

"One thing you should learn right now, CJ, is that there isn't a Lois Lane on any world who likes to be told what to do."

How many Lois Lanes had Wells met? CJ wondered.

"Now, while you waylay Ms Lane, I think it is time for me to disappear. I have no desire to be around when the police decide to interview witnesses."

"But—" CJ's protestations were to no avail because Wells had already opened a time window and was stepping through it.

CJ sighed; he could understand why the other world's Lois found Wells to be so infuriating.

He couldn't blame Wells for his disappearing act, though. After all, he wasn't sure what he was going to say to the police, either, assuming, of course, that they would see the need to ask him anything. He rather hoped that they would not. And Wells was right about one thing; he did need to get to Lois before she had an opportunity to blurt out his secret to someone else. At least nobody else seemed to have noticed her yet.

*****

"Lois! I thought I told you to stay on the roof!"

She began to protest as she spun around, anger instinctively rising in her throat in response to the imperious comment. "Now, just you wait a minute! Just because you saved—" Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped with shock as she saw who had spoken to her. Then her eyes narrowed dangerously. She pointed a long elegant finger at him and said incredulously, "That was you?"

"Well, yeah," CJ replied nonplussed. "Didn't you realise?"

"Of course I didn't realise you... you..." She floundered as she searched for an appropriate epithet. Finally she settled on "... great lunkhead!"

"Lunkhead?" CJ raised his eyebrows. His lips quirked into a lopsided grin.

Well, glory be, Lois thought. The guy can smile. She wasn't sure whether she found the smile or the flying more amazing; both were completely at odds with all her preconceived ideas about him. She couldn't help but notice that the expression looked really good on him, though. Discomfited by the direction her thoughts were taking her, she glanced at the ground, shuffled her feet and forced herself to remember that, even if he had just saved her life, she didn't like CJ very much.

"Lois?" he asked, sounding rather worried. "Are you all right? You look..."

Lois nodded – unwisely as it turned out. Her head swam with delayed reaction even as she muttered, her voice replete with irritation, "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine... except that I think I want to faint!"

"Here. Let me help you." He gently grasped her elbow with his right hand and guided her towards one of the café's pavement tables. He settled her into a dark, shady corner and gave her a couple of minutes to catch her breath. Then he asked again, "Are you all right?"

This time, when she answered, she did so with more honesty and more anger than before. "No, I'm not all right! And it's all your fault, Kent!"

"My fault? What did I do?"

That was a good question, Lois decided. What had he done? Why was she so mad at him? It wasn't as though he'd done anything wrong. In fact, he'd saved her life, for goodness sake! That was about as far from wrong as a person could get! Of course, the way he'd done it was pretty incredible. Actually, now that she thought about it, it was downright unbelievable. CJ Kent could fly? How come? Since when? Had Elyse known about this? Lois put a palm to her swimming head and forced herself to take a couple of deep breaths on the off chance that they might help.

Just then an eagle-eyed waitress came out to grab their custom before they could change their minds and move away. Lois let CJ order for them both while she continued to try to sort through her thoughts. She supposed she was mad at him because that was how she reacted to anything she didn't understand or felt uncomfortable about. She was aware that it wasn't one of her more appealing personality traits, but no matter how hard she tried to get over it, she couldn't. Still... As the waitress disappeared back inside the café, Lois tentatively said, "So... You saved my life."

"Yes," he said. "I did." He sounded shyly satisfied about that and almost surprised.

Somewhat grudgingly, she said, "I suppose I ought to thank you, Kent."

"You're welcome." She noticed that he was smiling at her again. "And... my name is CJ."

Lois's head jerked up and her eyes met his. She'd known that, of course. But his encouraging her to use his nickname... That was new, and she wasn't sure what it meant.

She reached across the table and fiddled around with the menu card and a dish crammed full to bursting with pepper, salt and sugar sachets, allowing time for her scattered wits to begin to reassemble. When, a few seconds later, she tried to ask him some important questions, she was pleased to discover that she sounded vaguely – but only vaguely – coherent. "You... I honestly had no idea that it was you... How did you...? I mean..."

CJ shrugged and smiled faintly. Self-deprecatingly, he said, "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

"Don't you tell me what I would or wouldn't believe!" Lois felt her anger rising again, and she did her best to tamp it down. Suddenly disconcerted, she said, "I... I mean..."

"It's okay," CJ said gently. "I know what you mean. And, believe it or not, I also know how you feel."

Lois looked at him, a slight frown marring her forehead. Something about him was different from the way it had been just a few minutes ago. She tried to figure out what it was. Her frown deepened as she stared at him. If it weren't impossible, she would have said that he had suddenly acquired a tan. More than that, though, he had lost the angry, haunted look he'd left the courtroom with. He looked far more relaxed for some reason. Not so wound up. Then it crossed her mind that CJ wasn't objecting to her close scrutiny. He wasn't ignoring her, or arguing with her, or walking away, or doing any of the other things he usually did when they ran into each other. Instead he was looking at her with an almost gentle expression in his eyes. It was most peculiar.

Again, her thoughts were interrupted as the waitress returned. Lois glanced at the drink that was placed in front of her and she asked, "What is this?"

"Tea with plenty of milk and sugar," said CJ with a shrug. "I've always been told that it's what you should give people suffering from shock. I thought it might do you some good."

She nodded, picked up the mug and took a sip. She grimaced and said, "It tastes disgusting so I guess it must be good for me, right?" Where, she wondered, had that comment come from? What was she thinking? She was joking with him?! It had to be nerves, she thought. She ducked her head, devoted her attention to the mug and began toying with its handle.

"Lois..." he said a few moments later, sounding rather tentative. She glanced at him; she could see him summoning up the courage to say something else. He tried again. "Lois..." She was slightly alarmed to realise that she felt a pleasant tingle at the way he said her name. "I was wondering... I know that we don't have a happy track record, and I've no right to ask it of you... And I know what I said before, about not wanting to talk to you, but... Could we, well, talk?"

"Now you want to talk to me?"

"Sounds crazy, doesn't it?"

She raised her eyebrows at his reply. "You realise, don't you, that after your little stunt just now yours is going to be the hottest story in town. You could take it to anyone you liked. Given our past history, I have to admit to being surprised that you'd choose to come to me."

"Lois, I don't want to talk to you about that... about me. At least, not on the record."

"You're asking me to spike the article before it's even written?"

"I guess so, yes."

She opened her mouth to object, but before she managed to say anything, CJ raised his hand, forestalling her, and said, "Please... Lois... Just hear me out, okay?"

There was something compelling about the intensity with which he spoke. "All right," said Lois guardedly. "I'll play along for now. So, what do you want to talk about?"

Clark sighed. "A couple of things, I guess. But mostly I want to talk about Luthor."

Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't that. "Luthor?" she asked, nonplussed.

"Yeah. I've got some leads that might take me to him, but I'm going to need the help of someone I can trust to follow them up, and that more or less rules out anyone in my department. But you... I do at least trust your honesty."

That sounded suspiciously like a compliment to Lois, backhanded though it was. Moreover, the thought of getting closer to Luthor... That was a bait she couldn't refuse. Plus, she was fascinated by this incarnation of CJ Kent; she wanted to know more. However, she decided it wouldn't hurt to test his resolve for just a little longer. She leant back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest and said, "And why should I go along with you? Why should I ignore the story in front of me for something that might – only might – turn out to be printable somewhere down the line?"

"Because... Because you hate Luthor more than you hate me. Because I'm going to be a seven day wonder – no more – whereas bringing down Luthor will be the story of the century, always assuming we can pull it off. Kerth material, for sure. Maybe even worth a Pulitzer."

Lois chewed on her lower lip for a moment as she mulled over what he had said. She had to admire the way he knew which of her buttons to push. Actually, she thought, what he'd said was rather amazing on a couple of counts; first, it was unusual for someone not in the business to have heard of the Kerths and, second, when had he come to understand her so well, anyway?

There was something he hadn't mentioned in his sales pitch, though. Just as CJ couldn't rely on people in his department to help him, she could never count on her Daily Planet colleagues to give her support in her campaign against Luthor. Perry's actions just that morning were evidence enough of that. But what if she – if they – could put enough material together so that she could go to Perry with a fait accompli? Not only would it be a great story, it would also remove Luthor's stranglehold on the paper. It just might prove to be the paper's salvation. That was something worth fighting for, wasn't it?

Bringing Luthor down... She nodded thoughtfully. CJ had baited his hook well, and she knew that he was already reeling her in.

CJ's head whipped around, as though his attention had been caught by something only he could hear. That impression was reinforced when he said, in suddenly hushed tones, "The police are coming over. But before they get here... Tell me... You won't write anything about me, will you?"

To Lois, he sounded anxious. She, unaccountably eager to allay his concerns, found herself shaking her head even as she cast around, looking for the police presence CJ had predicted. "No, I won't write anything, at least not until I've heard you out, anyway. That's the best promise I can make."

CJ nodded. "That's fair enough, I suppose."

She belatedly spotted one officer and one plain clothes detective talking to each other some two hundred feet away. How, she wondered, had CJ, who had his back to the square, known that they were there? It wasn't humanly possible that he could have heard them. Then again, flying wasn't possible, and he'd done that, too. She pushed the thoughts aside and said in a hurried whisper, "If you're free, come over to my place tonight. Eight o'clock."

He nodded again, already rising to his feet, preparing to make his escape. "Okay. Eight o'clock. I'll see you then. And... thanks for promising to keep quiet."

To her surprise, she found herself smiling at his retreating back. Then, under her breath, she muttered, "Who would I tell about you, anyway? It's not as though anyone would actually believe me!"

*****

CJ made a strategic retreat as the police bore down on Lois. It wasn't that he thought they would have any reason to suspect him of having played any part in the afternoon's activities so much as he didn't want to have to dissemble in front of them. Since he was a lousy liar, he reckoned it was far better, if at all possible, to completely avoid situations where it might be necessary to do so. He hoped Lois would understand his need to fade into the shadows and that she wouldn't feel as though he had abandoned her.

He headed back to his office, driven as much by habit as need. It was, of course, what he would be expected to do; it was part of his routine. Even if conditions were about as far from normal as they could get, he ought to try to at least appear as normal as he could.

As he walked along a corridor, Mayson, a colleague who seemed to have inveigled her way into the DA's favour and was, therefore, automatically suspect, poked her head around her office door and asked, "Okay, so what happened?"

CJ stopped and, stalling, asked warily, "How do you mean?" Could she really have heard about Lois already? Of course, media coverage was inevitable; he had not, however, given any thought as to how, if at all, he would deal with any casual questions that were pointed his way.

Mayson's next words, however, showed that Lois was nowhere in her thoughts. "What happened in the courtroom? I've just had Rosemary on the phone asking what you thought you were playing at!"

Another mark against Mayson, CJ thought. She was on social terms with the "enemy" and made no secret of the fact that they went to the same gym and occasionally even to movies together.

Mayson was continuing. "She said you were quite useless. Ineffectual. She said you were pitiful."

The caustic criticism stung CJ into remembering what had happened prior to his departure to the other world. When he'd left, he hadn't been in any frame of mind to care about his behaviour in court. Now, though, it ate at him because he hadn't been very professional and he knew that all the criticisms were justified. Still, there was no way he was prepared to admit as much to Mayson – he had his pride – so he simply shook his head and shrugged uncomfortably before proceeding onwards to his own office.

Five minutes later, CJ had still not made it back to his desk. Instead, he was standing at his office window, watching the rush hour traffic beginning to pile up on the street below. He sighed.

In all the excitement of the last ten days, he'd almost forgotten about the Allen case, yet it was an issue he needed to address, and soon. If he was going to prosecute, he would need to be more convincing than he had been thus far, if only so that he could escape with his career and reputation intact. And yet... Was there really any point in going on with the trial when he knew that the result was already a foregone conclusion?

Although CJ trusted Diggs' integrity – she was one of the few judges he did trust – and she would probably be more receptive than most to the idea of corruption in her court, CJ knew that he couldn't go to her without evidence. The problem was that he didn't have any. In the short term, he decided, he'd just have to do his best. He'd have to prosecute the case to the best of his ability and hope that, in amongst all the other extra-curricula activities he had planned for the next few days, he'd find a solution to this particular dilemma.

And thinking about his plans... Now that the adrenaline rush of saving Lois was wearing off, the burden he'd taken on suddenly weighed heavily on his shoulders. Reaction, he thought, was setting in.

CJ picked up his briefcase, opened it, and peeked inside. All the files and disks he'd brought back from the other world were safely tucked away. He flicked through them and stumbled across a photograph he couldn't remember having seen before.

It was a picture of Superman – not Clark, but Superman – and Lois together. One of them, he guessed, must have slipped it into the case when he wasn't looking.

He wondered why they had chosen to give him such a picture, especially since they didn't let other people see any. Maybe, though, that was the question's own answer. They'd given him the photograph because they could. They'd shared their secret with him, and the photograph was tacit recognition of that fact.

Suddenly he felt very alone. He wished that they were there so that he could have asked them about it. And maybe, at the same time, he could have asked what he should do about the Allen trial... and Luthor... CJ felt a bittersweet ache well up in his chest. He missed his new friends with an intensity that shocked him. He missed their support. He missed their encouragement and advice. Most of all, though, he missed them.

CJ turned the photograph over and recognised Lois's handwriting. "Dear CJ," she'd written. "It was a pleasure to meet you. Have faith in yourself and do your best; no-one can ask more of you than that. Good luck." She'd signed off for both of them with the words, "You'll always be in our hearts. Love from us both, Lois and Clark."

He read the message again, and it was as though he could hear her across the dimensional divide, the words on the picture complementing the ones Clark had said to him in Kamchatka: "Whatever you can do, that's enough."

"All right, Lois," he whispered softly, making a solemn vow, "I will have faith. I'll make you proud of me. I'll make both of you proud."

How odd, he thought; he was talking to the memory of a woman he would almost certainly never see again and yet that realisation made him feel neither lonely or foolish. Instead, it made him feel good, perhaps because he had taken them, along with the many things they'd taught him, to his heart. There they offered, and would continue to offer, him strength whenever he needed it. He had needed some of that strength just now, he thought.

He smiled as he slid the photograph into a side pocket of the briefcase. Then he went over to his filing cabinet, unlocked it and dug around under the suspension files, looking for the folder he'd secreted there, away from casual view. This was his Luthor file. It was thinner than Lois and Clark's, but then he only added scraps of information and speculation to it when they came his way, on a case-by-case basis. Still, it might be useful to have it with him when he went to visit Lois. It might help to cross-check some of Lois and Clark's information, but, more importantly, it might complement any information his Lois had to offer.

Feeling more optimistic than he had just minutes before, CJ decided it was time to head home.


TBC