I'm sorry. It's now Tuesday in some countries of the world. I did try very hard to post in time.

Previously in My Wife The Boss ...

“So what do we do?” Sara asked, not quite willing to let the subject drop.

“Well, it's hard not to worry about the people we love the most, but we can't put Daddy in a glass cage and we certainly can't let him know that we're all acting like scaredy cats,” Lois said, glancing between her daughters. “He'll think we have no faith in him.”

“He did great at the school today,” Vicky announced, after a few minutes of silence. “Everyone else was running around scared, but he knew exactly what to do ... getting us all out of the way. He asked if anyone had first aid training and Miss Smith had, so he told her to look after Angela. Then he got the fire extinguisher and he'd already put out some of the fires by the time Matt arrived. Daddy was super!”

Lois pulled Vicky into a one-armed hug. “Of course he is. That's what I'm telling you. He's very capable without the powers, and I should listen to myself more often too. So how about we make a pact to stop fretting and to keep this to ourselves. If any of us need reassurance at anytime, then we talk about it together.”

The three Kent females exchanged smiles, then Vicky stood up in amazement.

“Awesome! I'm really Superman's kid! How long before I get powers?”

*****

continued ...

Chapter Four
A Down-payment on Revenge

“Clark, how are you coming along on that game-rigging story?” Lois' voice could be heard, calling stridently above the general chatter of the bullpen. “We'll never get this paper out by deadline if my staff doesn't submit their stories on time!”

The reporters sank a little lower into their chairs and concentrated more pointedly on their computer screens, or on the files strewn across their desks. The few who were gathered round the coffee-break area slunk covertly back to their posts, or anywhere else that would offer them cover from their irate boss. Some brave souls stared back defiantly at the Chief. After all, they weren't the one being targeted at the moment, though they'd hate to be in Kent's shoes. On the rare occasion that Mad Dog Lane made a reappearance, it was best to make yourself as invisible a possible.

James Olsen, however, had no fear ... or not quite so much as the others. Besides, Lois' treatment of CK probably had something to do with the warning he'd given her a week or so ago. He'd advised her not to act so protectively, but he hadn't expected her to go off with all guns blazing in the opposite direction. She'd been riding CK pretty hard these last few days. And, OK, Clark had been taking it pretty well, but the rest of the newsroom was starting to talk, wondering if things might not be going quite so well at home since the husband had returned to the marital bed. Maybe Mrs. Kent had become used to being 'king of the hill' and didn't relish sharing her domain ... or so the talk went on the Scuttlebutt.

Only this time, CK didn't seem to be reacting quite so mildly. His brow furrowed and he pushed back from his desk with calculated force, heading for Lois' office. Oh boy, Jimmy thought. This was going to be interesting. He just hoped they had the sense to close the blinds and keep their voices down, otherwise the gossip brigade were in for a treat. Jimmy laughed. It was just like the old days!

“Can I talk to you for a moment, Chief?” Clark asked loudly, as he disappeared into Lois' office. Jimmy thought the 'chief' was for appearances sake.

Meanwhile, inside the editor's lair the couple stared each other down, both with arms folded over their chests. Finally, it was Lois who got herself under control first.

“You had something particular you wanted to say to me, Clark?”

Taking a couple of deep breaths and uncrossing his arms, Clark tried to relax. “Yes! What is with you these days ... honey?” He decided to throw the last word in for good measure.

“What's with me is that I have a paper to put out, and not just two editions these days. Oh, and don't try to score brownie points. In here, I'm Lois ... or the Chief!” Now why on Earth had she said that? Clark was right! What was her problem? She'd made up her mind to stop fussing over him, but that didn't give her the right to act like the Wicked Witch of the West. Not that she was acting like a witch. She was the editor and she had every right to ask how a story was coming along, particularly since she'd assigned it to him ... She gave a quick look at the clock on the wall. Hmm ... just a few hours ago.

Clark didn't look happy. “I'm not trying to score points. And I know you have deadlines to meet ... and you'll get your story, but you have to give me time to investigate. I'm checking sources, which isn't easy when you've been away for a long time. I'm having to re-establish old contacts.” He dug his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor. “Not everyone is as happy to see me back as Bobby Bigmouth. And, you know, if you didn't think I was up to the job, why didn't you give the story to someone in the sports section?”

Lois, too, seemed to deflate. No matter which way she played it she was undermining his confidence. “I gave the story to you because I thought you were the best person for the job. The sports department writes game stories ... or about who's signing with what team for a disgustingly high salary ... or who's all set to win a suitcase of gold medals at the next Olympics. This is a criminal investigation, so I gave it to my best investigative reporter.”

A self-disparaging laugh burst from Clark. “Make that a 'used to be' investigative reporter. Right now I don't seem to be doing so well. Most of my sources have stonewalled me on this story and I'm getting absolutely nowhere on the letter-bombings ...”

“No one is getting anywhere on that story.” Lois crossed to the couch and sat, patting the cushion beside her in an invitation to Clark. “Jim tells me the police are stumped.”

Clark shot her a look of surprise, but he did come and sit next to her. “You never used that excuse. In fact, if I remember correctly, you used to make it a point to beat the police to solving a crime.”

“True,” Lois said after a second's consideration, leaning closer to Clark. “But good stories take time to build, and some are more difficult than others. It's been over a week without more explosions, so maybe the guy has got his revenge and quit.”

“Or woman.” Clark put in with a tiny grin.

“Exactly. I'm all for an equal-opportunity bombmaker.” Lois grinned back, feeling much more comfortable, and deciding to do a little probing. After all, she was the editor. “So can you tell me what you have got on that story?”

“Sure. Though there's not much to tell. I've interviewed the teachers and admin staff and none of them know of anyone who is angry enough to want to blow them up. Mind you, I'm still working through former staff members and that isn't quite so easy.”

Clark was staring at his hands, playing with his fingers and Lois reached out to still his nervous twitching.

“What about old pupils?” she asked.

“I've been checking them out too, but so far no one jumps out as being an irate bomber, or even a petty criminal. Not that the records go back very far. This is a pretty exemplary elementary school in a good area. Not the type of school that turns out thugs and villains.”

Lois took his hands in hers and squeezed gently. “Well, keep at it. I'm sure if anyone can dig up something, it's you.”

“Or you,” he said with a wistful twist of his lips. “I miss my partner.”

“You don't like Jim as a partner?” Her eyes opened wider.

“He's not my permanent partner, honey, and he kinda believes the bomb story is a dead end ... and since no one was seriously injured, I'm not sure the police are giving it too much time either.”

“They could be right.” Lois turned to watch Clark's eyes. “But you don't think so?”

He shook his head. “Truthfully?”

“Of course. We always tell each other the truth. In this office or out of it!” Lois felt herself blushing and hoped that Clark didn't notice, because she had kept her fears about his return to work hidden from him. Thankfully, Clark was back to studying his hands, or their hands, since they were still holding fast to each other.

“I think this person -- male or female -- is just getting started. Don't ask me why I think that. Just a gut feeling.”

“Like I told you before, there's nothing wrong with reporters' instincts. In fact, it's what separates the good from the great, and we were great, honey.”

Clark looked up, his eyes twinkling. “The Hottest Team in Town!” Then the gleam faded. “Only we're not a team anymore.”

“Yes we are!” Lois said forcefully. “We may not work together these days, but we'll always be a team, and if you need to brainstorm, I haven't forgotten what it's like out on the street ... and I hope I haven't forgotten my reporting skills.”

“OK, speaking of teams, don't we have a parent-teacher meeting at Vicky's school tonight?”

“As a matter of fact we do.” Lois stood up. She'd love continue with Clark, especially now that they'd both calmed down, but she had her job to do. “Are you thinking of doing some snooping while you're there?”

“I wouldn't call it snooping,” Clark remonstrated. “But I don't think there's any harm in talking to the other parents about what happened. Don't you think the bombing is bound to be high on the agenda of topics of conversation?”

“I'm pretty certain it will.” Lois moved toward the door to open it for Clark, letting him know it was time to get back to work. “But we're also there for Vicky and she won't appreciate us turning the night into a series of interviews.”

Clark rose too, as did his brows in surprise. “Are you kidding, Lois? Vicky will want to be in on the job.” He stuck his hands back in his pockets as he took Lois' hint to leave. “Oh, and don't worry about the sports story. I'm not neglecting it.”

“I know.” Lois quickly kissed Clark's lips as he passed. Why not give the gossipers something to talk about? “But, though I didn't give this story to the sports writers, you could try talking to them. Chris is a pretty good guy and he might put a good word in for you with his contacts. It's worth a try.”

“Thanks for the advice.” Clark meant that sincerely. He had been wondering whether to approach Chris or his team. He'd known Chris from before, though most of the others were new staff. “And, Lois, please try not to get caught up in work tonight. We have to get to the school on time.”

“Clark Kent, I'll have you know that the new-and-improved Lois has her priorities straight!” she declared, but with a teasing smile, before closing the door and leaving him stranded back in the bullpen.

He stood there for a second or two, the centre of attraction. Unease threatened to overwhelm him as he considered the opinions of the rest of the staff. Did they think he got special allowances from the boss? That was not a happy train of thought, and it was one which he'd believed he'd put behind him. Only, every now and then, especially when leads on a story appeared to dry up ... or, in the case of the games-rigging story, leads never opened up at all, Clark's insecurities rose up to haunt him. Was he totally useless as a reporter without Lois? She seemed not to think so, or was she just humoring him?

But one thing he had learned about himself; he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

Clark straightened his shoulders and went to find Chris.

*****

Much to Clark's pleasure, Chris Chapman had been very helpful and had appreciated Clark's suggestion that they share a byline on any articles that ran on the scandal. After an enlightening conversation, Clark had the distinct impression that maybe there was an investigative reporter lurking under the sports writer just dying to get out. With Chris's help, the people Clark needed to speak with began to open up and, the next lunchtime, he and Chris were on their way to meet with a couple of ballplayers belonging to one of the suspected teams.

Not wanting to alert the bosses that they were talking to the press about the allegations, the meeting was set up in Casey's Irish Bar in Bakerline, well away from the stadium. He and Chris parked a few blocks away and started on a hectic stroll along the busy street packed with lunchtime crowds.

This was the Metropolis that Clark had once known and loved, though, on occasion, it now intimidated him slightly. However, today he had someplace to be, a purpose to fight his way through the throng and a colleague whose company he enjoyed. His professional life was beginning to look up as much as his private one.

On the corner, the two men passed a bank which Clark recognized as The New Troy Bank; the one Superman had saved from an armed robber ... repeatedly. Had there really been an imp from the Fifth Dimension who had threatened to remove hope from the world by taking away tomorrow? He'd have to ask Lois if that was fact or just a trick of his overactive imagination. But, as his memories returned, he'd discovered that his life with Lois had been strewn with the unexpected and the unbelievable. One thing had become clear: it had never been dull.

The interview with the two players had been informative, though they divulged nothing concrete. No one knew who was behind the scam, so the athletes were understandably wary and wished to remain anonymous for the time being. However, they'd met Chris a number of times and felt he was a fair sports writer. They trusted him enough to admit they'd been approached, singly, by the same stranger who expected them to throw particular games when requested in return for a substantial fee.

The two were adamant they had refused the offer, but they did give out the names of some others who they suspected had succumbed to temptation. And just before the interview wrapped, under Clark's friendly and disarming questioning, the ballplayers revealed the name and a description of the guy who'd tried to bribe them. They also promised to testify if Clark and Chris uncovered the perpetrators. After all, they didn't want to see their sport dragged through the dirt.

With a few leads to follow, Chris and Clark left their business cards with the young men and left the bar to head back to The Planet to do some more digging. The winter sun was bright and the air crisp when they stepped from the dimly lit bar, so both men took a second to adjust to the brightness.

They walked the teeming street in accord, dodging the crush of bodies and discussing the threat to a game they both followed, but as they came abreast of the bank, Chris halted.

“Clark, could you wait a second? I need to get some cash from the ATM. It's my fifth wedding anniversary, so I'm taking my wife out tonight, and I'm a bit of an old-fashioned guy. I like to have cash in my pocket.”

Clark nodded, smiling, instinctively trying to remember the date of his wedding and how many years he and Lois had been married. It was the sort of information most people took for granted. He supposed he once had done the same. Maybe he would buy Lois a bunch of roses anyway ... just in case today was the day, or just because ...

“Go ahead.” His hand waved in the general direction of the line waiting at the cash machine. “I'm kinda' like that myself, or maybe I just haven't got back into the swing of things. There weren't many banks, let alone ATMs where I was in Jilin. Lois keeps on at me to renew my account and my cards, but I've been putting it off, which is totally stupid.”

“Maybe, but I can understand. It must be a bit of a culture shock coming back to Metropolis, especially when you've had amnesia.” Chris dug around in his pocket for his wallet. “I have no idea what that must feel like, but I suspect it isn't very comfortable, not knowing, I mean.”

Chris stood in the line, but both his voice and his expression were full of concern. He hadn't worked at The Planet for long when Clark disappeared, but he'd liked and admired the veteran reporter. He'd hoped one day to emulate Clark's success and he was still pinching himself to make sure his working in tandem with the famous Clark Kent was true.

“That was ... bad,” Clark admitted, a dull flush shading his cheeks. “But the trouble is that most people believe my memory returned in one fell swoop; that I woke up one day knowing everything, when actually it was more of a trickle. Even now, I'm still putting things back together in my head. I get these images, but I'm not exactly sure what order they're supposed to be in, so I'm burying my head in the sand in some ways.”

Clark laughed self-consciously, having no idea why he was unburdening himself to a man he didn't know very well. But Lois seemed to value her top sports writer, or perhaps it was the fact that Chris wasn't a close friend. At least, not yet. He would be more detached about Clark's revelations. “For instance, dragging my heels with the bank thing. But I've got to get that sorted or I won't have an account for my paycheck to be deposited into.”

“You don't bank online?” Chris asked.

“Lois doesn't believe in it,” he replied shaking his head with a wry smile. “Since she knows how easily Jimmy can hack into highly protected computer systems, she doesn't trust online banking. If you ask me, Lois is against anything online purely on principle. She spends a lot of her time and energy fighting against publishing The Daily Planet only on the Internet, and I agree with her. Metropolis will be a sadder place when we eventually lose the paper and ink version of The Planet.”

“I'm with both of you there.” Chris moved forward in line. “Hey, Clark, have you any particular preferences for a bank? 'Cause you could always go in here to open an account and surprise Lois. We have time.”

Looking up at the bank's logo, Clark wondered if it still had the same head of security. What was his name ... Mr. Weston? But, more importantly, had he turned his back on a life of crime? Clark couldn't remember Superman ever checking up on the guy in the intervening years. Maybe he should go inside. He moved to the door and pushed it open. The bank's interior was an efficient yet calm oasis from the busy thoroughfare, a small branch of a larger chain. He took a few steps forward, allowing the comparative silence to smooth away his nervousness.

What was so difficult about opening a bank account? He only had to fill out a form ... but that meant details, and what if they asked him something he couldn't remember? They'd think he was some kind of con artist.

This was crazy! He remembered most things now. He was a grown man and he shouldn't be anxious, though, by rights, he and Lois were husband and wife and they should have a joint account. He was wrong to have kept putting off Lois' offer to go together, feeling as if she were treating him like a child. And who could blame her? He wasn't exactly acting like an adult here.

Yes, being here was wrong. It was very unlikely he'd know anyone who worked at this bank now, and if he had he'd known them as Superman not Clark Kent. He started to leave, promising himself he'd arrange a time with Lois to organize his finances. Yet as he did so, a soft sizzling sound penetrated his brain, while his nose twitched at a strange noxious smell. He swung back and in one fluid motion was moving as fast as he possibly could, shouting a warning, but his voice was strangled by an earsplitting boom.

*****

TBC ...