I dithered about breaking this post into two parts, but decided against it so I could stay on the 18-part track. Anyway - I hope you enjoy it.

TOC is here .

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~
From part 10:

Clark nudges me with his elbow. “For the reward money he’s offering, I might just turn you in myself.”

I smile at Clark’s joke and swat at his shoulder. His presence and attitude comforts me in a way that I never would have believed possible. I send a silent prayer of thanks skyward that he’s here to help me.

“If my plan works,” I say, crossing my fingers, “Lex will be so distracted with a search in San Francisco that he won’t think to look for me closer to home.” I settle back on the floor, tossing the blanket aside to reveal the files underneath. “Let’s get started.”


~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~
Master of Disguise - Part 11
~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~


“So your ingenious plan for getting into Luthor’s office is to fake a ransom demand and a meeting with the non-existent kidnappers?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll use yourself as bait?”

“Why do you sound so skeptical, Clark? If ‘the kidnappers’ request an obscene amount of money and we leave enough clues for Lex to find me, it’ll make him think he’s outsmarted them. If there’s one thing I can count on, it’s Lex’s ego. I guarantee he’ll handle it personally.”

He shakes his head and takes a few steps away, reaching up to rub the back of his neck before rounding on me again. “What if Luthor catches on to you? Do you realize how much danger you’d be in?”

I rake my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath. We’ve been at this all night. Jimmy, having delivered the information from City Hall, skipped out on us hours ago to go home. I admit it is nice working with Clark, but it’s also more work. When it was just me and Jimmy, we both knew who called the shots. With Clark, I have to work to be top banana. Even so, everything is running smoothly until Clark attempts to coddle me.

“Of *course* it’s dangerous,” I admit. “It’s a brilliant plan.” Clark still looks dubious, but I’m sure I can convince him. “It’ll draw Lex’s attention away and give you the perfect opportunity to search his office unobserved. One well-timed attack on his inner sanctum and I bet we can bust the investigation wide open.”

“And how do you propose getting away again without tipping your hand? Wouldn’t it be better to search his office together, without letting Luthor know you’re here?”

“I *tried* that, but I couldn’t get close enough; security is too tight.”

Clark mulls over my words and I sense victory. Not necessarily in the ‘I’m right and your wrong’ way, but in that we’re getting close to finalizing our plan of attack. Clark has caused me to reevaluate several points in my plan – just like I knew he would – but I know I’m right about this. We’ve got to get Lex and his cronies out of the penthouse. There’s no other way to guarantee enough time to get the evidence and access codes that we need.

Still silent, Clark shifts the papers on the table, pulling a copy of the city plans out from under the penthouse blueprints. He pushes the paper toward me and points to the building to the eastern face of the penthouse, opposite the balcony.

“What if we stake out from this rooftop here? We could watch for a couple of days and fly in quick when the opportunity presents itself.”

“And if we don’t have enough time?”

“We fly back out and wait until there’s another gap in security to finish.”

I open my mouth to reject his plan, but stop myself. Why not? If there is a way to get the evidence without seeing Lex again, why not jump at the chance? “Okay, we’ll give it a try. But if there’s nothing after several days, we’ll scrap it and go with the kidnapper meeting.”

He reluctantly nods his agreement and we turn our attention back to the documents Jimmy brought. I pull the blueprint toward me again. Seeing the drawing confirms one thing for me – there are plenty of places in Lex Towers to hide things. My limited poking around in the penthouse had unearthed a secret elevator, and I figure that if one room doesn’t show up on the plans, there might be others. I grab a pencil and sketch the hidden elevator shaft on the penthouse plans. I nudge Clark’s arm and point at the result.

“If we shift this wall here to accommodate the rear elevator, it leaves a strangely-shaped gap between Lex’s office and the ballroom.”

“So there might be several secret rooms,” he agrees. “It bears looking into, don’t you think.”

“Definitely, but even if I knew what was in there, I wouldn’t know how to get in,” I complain.

“Why don’t I fly over and take a look? It’ll only take a few minutes.”

Clark looks at the sketch I drew on the penthouse plans one more time before slipping out the door. Within minutes he’s back, redrawing the floor plan to include the elevator shaft, another security room, a conference room and a second storage room he says is stocked with munitions.

“Other than a short row of filing cabinets,” Clark explains, “this conference room is pretty bare. The entrance is here through the security office connected to Luthor’s office. I didn’t see the mechanism, but it looks like the door is hidden behind the alarm cabinet across from the bank of monitors.”

“So we’ll hit the files in the conference room, Lex’s desk and the safe in his office. If we have the chance, we should probably check the outer office desk and Nigel’s office, too.” I point to each room as I list them. “Am I missing anything?”

“Not that I can see. When do you want to go?”

I check my wristwatch. “Anytime, I think.”

“Okay. Why don’t we …” He stops speaking mid-sentence and I know he’s listening to some distant trouble.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Tenement fire about a half mile that way,” he says, pointing in the direction of Suicide Slum.

“Go. We’ll pick this up when you get back.”

He spins into the suit and vanishes out the window.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

My bladder is calling rather urgently when I wake up. Disoriented, I blink the sleep from my eyes until I figure out I’d fallen asleep on Clark’s bed. I’d moved my belongings into the adjoining room, but had left the research papers about LexCorp, Lex Labs and Luthor Technologies strewn about on his mattress half covered in bedclothes. Exhausted by my near-sleepless night the night before, I’d obviously fallen asleep waiting for Clark’s return.

I push the mess aside and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, pausing to get my bearings. From the lack of light coming through the window and the cobwebs in my head, it must be the wee hours of the morning. My tongue takes an exploratory and distasteful lick along my upper gums; I also forgot to brush my teeth.


I’m about to stand when I hear a soft sound from the shadowed corner of the room and I freeze. From the corner of my eye, I can just make out a large shadowed lump. At first, I wonder if it is Clark’s duffle bag, but then the shadow sniffles and a bright red toe nudges a sliver of moonlight. The shadow is Clark, still in his Superman suit, and it sounds like he is crying.

A shiver of fear slices through my heart. What would make the Man of Steel cry?

Some perceptive inner voice provides me with the answer as I stand. Superman may have unbelievable and astonishing powers, but under the flamboyant costume is Clark, an ordinary farm boy from Kansas. No, not ordinary. Even without the super powers, Clark couldn’t possibly be considered ordinary. He’s hardworking, insightful, honest (to a fault) and extremely compassionate. In the few days that I’ve known him, I’ve discovered an extraordinary man with a quiet strength that has nothing to do with his biology – and this most human of men is hurting.

I move around the bed to crouch down in front of him. His head is buried in the crook of his arms, which are locked tightly around his bent knees. Wrapped in his cape and huddled in on himself, he looks like a scared little boy hiding his head to keep the monsters away. My heart breaks for him and I reach out to place my hands on his arm.

“Clark?”

He doesn’t raise his head to look at me, but there’s another soft sniffle. “What?” he asks.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

I frown at his wobbly answer, but it doesn’t particularly surprise me. He probably isn’t used to sharing his feelings. Clark doesn’t have anyone to confide in, except maybe his parents and they’re not here right now. In that way, he’s a lot like me.

The burden of taking care of a younger sister and a drunken mother might be different from saving strangers from disasters, but one thing is probably the same; I had to be the best, had to keep my doubts and worries to myself and always, *always* had to be strong. No one ever offered me a hand to hold or a shoulder to cry on when things got tough. No one, that is, until Clark.

That night we’d met was the first time in years I’d allowed myself to really let go and cry over anything deeper than an Ivory Tower episode. Since my parent’s divorce, I’d had no one in my life to rely on, no one who could make me feel safe enough. But Clark, he’d given me permission to let go and held me safe until I could stand on my own again.

When I’d sought him out, I was naively certain that *I* was the senior partner, the one with the experience and skills to lead the investigation of Lex. Clark was only supposed to provide an outsiders viewpoint and to be my hands and feet. I silently chuckle at how wrong I had been about him. He is so strong and talented and intelligent. He could have taken down Lex all by himself. What help does Superman need from anyone?

Plenty, if my experience is anything to go on. Clark needed me that night Trask came to his apartment. When I called the police and distracted Trask, I had unknowingly protected Clark’s secret. I also kept an overly trusting Superman from confronting Trask at my hotel and I helped him break into the warehouse to find his ship.

It surprises me just how easy it’d been to fall into a true partnership with him. Although he’s had those amazing powers for most of his life, I realize that using them as Superman is still relatively new. Could Clark need a partner to give him help, advice and comfort, just as I had? My intuition tells me yes.

I skeptically eye the space next to him and then squat down, sliding toward the wall on my bottom. I attempt to wedge into the tiny space between the bed frame and his body, but it’s too small a fit. I try to squirm into it anyway.

“Scoot over, will you?” I ask.

He shifts into the corner and my hips finally slip into the gap. I settle against the wall and sigh, placing an arm around Clark’s back. Hesitantly, I hug him toward me and then rest my head above his shoulder alongside his head, which is still bent in sorrow. I clamp my jaw shut against the urge to fill the silence between us and hope that he can feel the respect and friendship I have for him in my presence. He gives so freely to others and I can only hope he’ll accept my meager offering when he needs someone to be stronger.

A long moment later, he whispers, “I couldn’t save them.”

“At the fire?” I ask.

“The blaze was out of control by the time I got there and nothing I did seemed to make things better. I tried to get them all out before the building collapsed, but I couldn’t see the last ones struggling through the smoke, couldn’t hear them choking through the noise…”

His voice catches and I pull him closer, stroking a soothing hand through his hair. “Everything is going to be okay, Clark. You did your best.”

“What good is my best if I still let people die?” he pleads, lifting his head to look at me. “Two people died tonight because my best wasn’t good enough.”

“This late at night, a tenement in the Slum would be full of a hundred sleeping people. Think about how many people you *did* save.”

He shrugs and turns to stare into the darkness. The despondency in his voice battles for dominance against the self-loathing in his eyes. How can he not see the good he does, even if he can’t be everywhere and do everything?

“Focus on the good you did by being there,” I assert. “You said the fire was out of control by the time you arrived. How many tomorrows will the survivors have because you were there? How many of those firefighters went home uninjured because of your help?”

He shakes his head and looks away again. “And two families are grieving because I wasn’t fast enough or smart enough to save everyone.”

Exasperated now, I shove away from the wall to resume my position sqatting in front of him. I take his face between my hands and force him to look at me. The sorrow I see there breaks my heart. “Listen very carefully, Clark. You cannot be everywhere. You cannot save everyone. You do what you can and that is enough.”

“What I can do it isn’t enough,” he whispers. “Superman should be more.”

“Superman isn’t a god, Clark. The fact that you exist at all is a miracle, but you’re just a man. Admittedly, a most amazing man, even without the powers…”

He shakes his head. “That’s just it. I have these miraculous powers that no one else has; I should be able to save them. If I can’t, then what good are they?”

“Oh, Clark, you’ve got it all wrong. The important thing is that you care about people – people you will never know – without expecting anything in return. They may never truly know you, but people understand that anything Superman does to help is a gift. That message of courage, selflessness and hope resonates within all of us and inspires us to be better. That you do whatever you can to help, that’s the miracle of Superman.”

I can see him mulling over my words and I silently demand that he believe me. In answer, his face clears and he smiles a little. “Thank you, Lois.”

“Anytime,” I answer. I breathe a sigh of relief and mentally pat myself on the back. I saved a super hero tonight. It’s not the Pulitzer Prize, but it’s not bad for a night’s work. Better than that, though, is the knowledge that I helped Clark when he needed a friend. Still, it won’t do to let his ego inflate.

“Are you finished obsessing now?” I ask in mock irritation.

He smiles shyly and nods.

“Good, then help me up,” I respond. “’Cause my feet have gone to sleep and I need to pee.”

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Two days later, I find myself marking time at the Apollo while Clark is gone on super business. An aggravated sigh escapes my lips as I slap down another useless document into the still too-large ‘unknown’ pile and run my fingers through my hair. The pressure I feel to come up with solid evidence of Lex’s wrong-doings increases as each hour passes. His expertise at hiding his darker side is just so *frustrating* and I’m running out of time.

I know that for the kidnapping ruse to last, we need to give Lex *something* to keep him occupied. The note from my ‘kidnappers’ that Clark had flown into my San Francisco hotel room has worked so far, but to really hold Lex’s attention, or better yet, take him physically away from Metropolis and our investigation, I need to submit a ransom demand – soon.

Clark’s plan to break into Lex’s office together is a good one, but if we can’t find the opportunity to get in tonight, I think it’ll be time to move to plan B. Decision made, I turn my attention back to the papers in front of me when I hear the surveillance equipment click on. I reach over to turn up the volume and hear Lex’s side of a phone conversation.

“…don’t want to hear about your incompetence, Inspector. I want results...No. You will work with my team of investigators or I’ll have your badge. … I want every available man out on the streets looking for my wife. Is that understood? ... Find her, now!”

I smile slightly as Lex slams the phone down and heave a sigh of relief that he’s still focused on my kidnapping. My original note indicated that demands would be made ‘shortly’ after removing me to a remote and secure location. Although I gave no definite timeframe, we only have a few days to make it believable.

Discovering Lex’s true nature had destroyed my esteem for him and frankly, I don’t think I could stand to be around him anymore. I was never ‘in-love’ with Lex, but I did care for him and his apparent concern for me makes me feel almost…gratified.

Publicly, Lex is full of grief and righteous indignation about my disappearance, sending his staff of private investigators across the country looking for clues to my disappearance. I know he’s the worst kind of criminal, but it’s nice to know that somewhere buried deep inside my husband might be a teensy-weensy, microscopic amount of compassion left. The sound of Nigel’s arrival draws my attention back to the equipment.

“How goes the search for Mrs. Luthor, sir?”

“Not well, Nigel. The flat-foots are as incompetent as always and no one on our payroll has any information. I want those responsible found and made an example of quickly – no one takes anything from me and gets away with it.”

“I’ll handle it personally, sir.”

“Thank you, Nigel. I can always count on your expertise. While you’re there, we need to educate our new west-coast management team regarding the Boss’s expectations, with an emphasis placed on the consequences of failure. We still haven’t identified that leak.”

“Do you think moving so soon after Domo’s capture is wise?”

“The sooner – the better. The local police will be occupied looking for my erstwhile wife. What better time to reinforce our dominance over the less … reputable endeavors? You know me, Nigel. I’m never one to squander an opportunity. When life hands me lemons…”

“You make champagne,” Nigel answers admiringly.

My mouth twists in distaste at the smug tone in Lex’s voice. I can almost see his self-satisfied smile. Okay, so I was wrong; there’s not a scrap of humanity left in him.

I turn my thoughts back to our investigation with renewed vigor when I hear the telltale ‘whoosh’ that heralds Clark’s return. I look up from my papers as Clark slips through the window. His apologetic grin goes a long way to soothing the frustration I feel at having to sandwich our investigation of Lex between his Superman rescues.

Clark has tried to limit his rescues in Metropolis over the past couple of days – he doesn’t want anyone to connect his presence to me – so he’s also been doing scattered patrols in other major US cities, too. Even with his restraint, there’s a lot of need for someone like Superman in Metropolis and Clark can’t help himself when he hears a call for help.

How can I be upset that he’s out helping, especially when half the time he leaves, it’s to stop one of Lex’s thugs? That, in and of itself, makes the delay worth it. I’m not idle while Clark’s gone, either. There’s plenty of work to do researching Lex’s corporate holdings and piecing together the elaborate lattice of shell corporations under which he hides his darker business dealings.

Our penthouse surveillance last night had gone well and had given me confidence that a search of Lex’s office will yield the information we’re looking for – if we can just get the chance. I blow a strand of hair from my eyes as I look at the stacks of paper in front of me. We’re still missing so much, information that will bring the whole indecipherable mess into focus. Hopefully, we’ll find that information tonight.

Clark sits down on the bed next to me and I pick up where we’d left off discussing Lex’s staff. I hand him a photograph. “This is Asabi. We’ll need to know where he is before we go in.”

“Who is he?”

“He’s sort of a man-servant and eastern mystic rolled up in one. Sometimes he acts as Lex’s chauffer, or butler, but he’s mostly a spiritual advisor. On occasion, he sets up weird little tests for Lex.”

“Kind of like Cato in the Pink Panther movies.”

I laugh at the image. “Yeah, something like that.” I hand him another photo. “This is Nigel St. John, Lex’s second in command. He’s a scary man. I had Jimmy do some research and as far as we can tell, he’s only existed for about six years. My contact in the NIA was able to give me one alias based on his picture – a Nicholas Sturgeon. They list him as a member of Her Majesties Secret Service gone bad. He has arrest warrants in at least three countries still outstanding.”

Clark whistles through his teeth and I hand him the third photo. “This is Mrs. Cox, Lex’s personal assistant and one of his enforcers. She handles the lower level dirty work. My bet is that she’ll be the one to provide us with the evidence linking Lex to his criminal activities.”

“Why do you think she’ll be the weak link?”

I clear my throat and silently berate myself for my testy tone. ‘Too much information, Lois. Clark doesn’t need to know about all that other stuff.’ I shrug, feigning nonchalance.

“She’s the one going face to face with the Boss’s hired thugs. He doesn’t deal directly – probably to keep his hands clean and to always have an alibi. Instead, he instructs Nigel or Mrs. Cox on what to do.”

I color under Clark’s scrutiny and I glance at my watch as a diversion. I stuff the floor plan and photos in to the main pocket of my backpack and shoulder it as I stand up. “Come on. We ought to get going.”

I open the window and peer into the dark alley before climbing onto the fire escape. Clark follows close behind me and closes the window. He looks so different in dark clothes and without glasses. He’s not wearing the goatee, but he still looks a little dangerous and sexier, if that’s possible. He looks around and then nods the all clear before sliding his arms around me to effortlessly hold me in his arms.

All that power and yet he holds me so gently. I tuck my head under his chin and can’t help the small sigh that escapes me. He tightens his grip and I feel him swallow. I have to repress the urge to kiss his throat.

“Are you okay, Lois?”

Damn. My heart is beating double time, but I hope he thinks it’s because I’m nervous about breaking into Lex’s office, not because being held by him turns me on. I don’t want him to know how it excites me to be this close to him; I know he’d pull away from me. His morals would never allow him to do anything unseemly with a married woman, regardless how big a scumbag the husband is.

“I’m just a little nervous,” I answer. Thank god he doesn’t know the real reason why.

He lifts off and I’m distracted from my thoughts by the incredible feeling of flying. Like being weightless in a pool of water, only there’s force and freedom of movement, like Clark is now the center of gravity; he’s drawn me into his orbit and has me completely under his control.

“I hope you realize that now you’ve taken me flying,” I whisper, “you’re never going to get rid of me.”

His only response is to hold me tighter. Before I can stop myself, I snuggle in close, nuzzling his neck with my nose. I feel myself falling, not physically, but emotionally and I stiffen at the thought. I knew I never loved Lex, but before tonight, I couldn’t have said what being in love felt like.

Clark feels me tense and whispers reassurances. “We’re almost there.”

Am I imagining that his voice is tender and huskier than usual? Oh, god. I’m moony-eyed and breathless over a man and I’m so far gone that I don’t really care how pathetic it is. I must be in love.

Seconds later, we land on the rooftop opposite the penthouse and I slide out of his arms. I don’t meet his eyes – Clark is perceptive enough that he’s sure to pick up on my unspoken thoughts. Instead, I clear my head by focusing on work. It’s what I’ve done my whole life to avoid uncomfortable emotions. I trust that it won’t fail me now.

I crouch down near the edge of the roof and shrug off my pack. I reach inside for a light and the floor plan as Clark hunkers down beside me. I flatten the paper out and shine my pen light on the far-east corner.

“These are Nigel’s quarters, Asabi’s are across the hall and down from the office here.” I point to several boxes on the paper in succession, labeling them as I go. “This is the master bedroom, the library, Lex’s office. Security and surveillance are here and here and Mrs. Cox stays in this room just off Lex’s outer office here.”

I look at my watch again. “If the pattern holds, the security detail will change in two minutes, then after a brief round of the upper penthouse floor, they’ll head down a level to check the executive offices. We’ll have twenty minutes before they come back.”

“Why don’t I start with the filing cabinets,” he suggests, “and move on to the safe last. That way if we need to get out quickly, we can take off from the balcony.”

I nod and open another sheet, which shows the more detailed schematic for Lex’s office. “The safe is on this wall behind a large painting. I’ll go through Lex’s desk for evidence while you open the safe using your hearing and vision gizmos.”

“Gizmos?”

“Well, yeah. Can’t you listen or watch for the tumblers? I couldn’t crack the safe in the office, but even *I* was able to get the one in the bedroom open.”

“Oh, well. If *you* could do it...” he teases. I bump his shoulder with mine and he laughs. “What about surveillance cameras?” he asks.

“There’s one camera here focused on the outer door and the safe, but no cameras on the filing cabinets or Lex’s desk that I’ve seen.”

He nods “If we go through those first, I can take out the visual surveillance on the safe at the last minute.”

“Okay. We’ll have to be silent. Clearing out the bugs would be time consuming and would probably alert someone that something is up.” I pick up the papers and slip them back into my pack before standing. “Ready?”

He gives me a strange look and raises an eyebrow. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

I slap his arm and give him one of my patented Lane glares, but he smiles back. “Just tell me where everyone is, Kent.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

I smother a grin as he stares intently at the building. “I see Asabi in his quarters. He’s doing a seated meditation. No one is in Nigel’s quarters…wait. He’s getting into the elevator, heading down to the lobby.”

“That’s one less to worry about – he should be gone a while based on the conversation I overheard. What about Lex?”

Clark shifts his gaze to the other end of the penthouse and his eyebrows draw down. “No one is in the office or in the master bedroom. The library is empty except for a security guard and the guest rooms are empt…”

His voice trails off and he looks away from the building. He reaches up to fidget with his glasses before he remembers that he’s not wearing them.

“Clark?” I prompt. “What about the other rooms? Do you see Lex or Mrs. Cox in there?”

He doesn’t answer and even in the darkness I can tell he’s blushing. He opens his mouth twice without saying anything and I can tell he’s trying to word his answer carefully.

Oh…crap.

The most likely explanation for Clark embarrassment is that Lex is in bed with another woman. My cheeks flush scarlet at my shame. I didn’t want Clark to discover this dirty tidbit from my life, but I swallow my pride and decide to use it to our advantage. “Is he with Mrs. Cox, a woman with short blonde hair or someone else?”

Clark clears his throat and won’t meet my eyes. “Mrs. Cox.”

I nod briskly and step away from him, giving myself some physical distance as I ruthlessly stamp down my emotions. “Just getting started or almost finished?”

His face is practically glowing red, but he answers. “We uh…should have plenty of time to search the office.”

“Good. That accounts for both of them so we can search without fear of discovery. Are you ready?”

“Lois …”

I hold up my hand. “Don’t, Clark. Let’s just go get the evidence. We can talk later.”

He nods curtly and puts on his gloves and balaclava while I’m putting on mine. When ready, he picks me up again and I almost lose it when I realize he’s holding me stiffly, like he can’t stand to be near me anymore. I knew it. I knew he would despise me if he knew how pathetic I am; I not only married a crime lord, but the sleazebag cheats on me, too.

I can feel my face burning with rage and shame as we land on the penthouse balcony. I can’t look at Clark for fear of seeing the disappointment in his eyes. I open the French doors and we move simultaneously, silently making our way through the darkened office. I step directly to Lex’s desk and place my hands on the mahogany surface, leaning over my arms to hold me up. I stay that way until my knees stop shaking and Clark shifts into super speed. I finally manage to suck in a ragged breath.

“Dammit.”

I utter the curse softly under my breath, but it still causes Clark to solidify next to me holding several file folders in his hands. I refuse to look at him and after a brief hesitation he sets the files down and disappears again. Damn the super hearing, anyway. He wasn’t supposed to hear me. I turn my attention back to my own tasks, but my hands are trembling so much that it takes me three tries before I get the locks on Lex’s desk to give.

Once open, I force my mind back on task and soon lose myself in the objects before me. I heave out what appears to be a set of ledgers. I open them and within seconds, realize these are separate from LexCorp’s books. I pull out a hand-held scanner from my bag and start copying.

Clark works his way through the filing cabinets in no time and is soon standing a few feet away, fanning through the stack of files and taking pictures as he goes. He notices my impressed expression and smiles sheepishly before continuing. I shake my head and return to my scanning.

A portion of my thoughts linger on Clark, though. I’m grateful of his help in spite of the shame of my exposure. Of course, seeing him use his special gifts is always thrilling, but having his emotional support and friendship is a comfort to my bruised soul. I knew instinctively that Clark was the one person with the skills and integrity to help me bring Lex to justice – I just didn’t realize how much I would need *him*.

Clark and I finish our copying about the same time and as I slip the books back into the desk drawer, he returns the files to the cabinets. He moves quickly to disable the security camera and then steps up to the large Van Gogh painting on the west wall. I raise my hand in warning and he moves his hands away from the frame. He stares intently at the painting before leaning to the side, a small stream of smoke rising as he deftly shorts out the wires connecting it to the alarm. I smile in satisfaction as he lifts it down from the wall to reveal the safe. He interlaces his fingers and cracks them, waggling his eyebrows comically. I smile and shake my head, amused at his antics.

Seconds later, the safe is open and Clark turns to look at me, his eyes filled with amazement. I lean in, wanting to see what has captured his attention and stacks of money greet me. I roll my eyes, gesturing for Clark to get on with it. Grinning, he shifts the piles of cash to the side and pulls out a small diary-style book. He flips through it and whistles softly at its contents. I peer over his shoulder and see that the pages are filled with bank account numbers, addresses and codes. Everything is labeled with acronyms, so it’s impossible to tell what they’re for, but my eyes bug out a bit at the amount of money in each one. I see seven to ten countries listed and flipping to the back, blueprints for some kind of fortress labeled in German.

As Clark starts snapping pictures of the book’s contents, I pull another stack of files from Lex’s safe, flipping through them as quickly and quietly as I can. I find names and situations that are familiar to me, links to many of the front page stories I’d written the two years prior, but have no idea why Lex would be keeping track of them. I flip through them and note the dates and names in my notebook. When I flip to the next document, my blood runs cold.

“Oh my God,” I whisper softly.

Clark looks up sharply at my break in silence, but his frown softens immediately at the stricken look on my face. He steps to my side and looks at me questioningly, but I just shake my head and start scanning with shaky hands. This time Clark looks over my shoulder and I feel his body tense when he realizes that I’ve found the Daily Planet’s insurance payout forms. I hand him the rest of the file while I copy them. He sorts through the papers and I steal a few glances as he photographs a handwritten note about someone named John Black, payments for C-4 and something that looks like a step-by-step outline for the bombing.

Clark flips through the folder and his eyebrows draw down in anger as he pulls out another document. He hands it to me and my blood boils when I realize what it is – a second insurance policy through Lexel Investments for the Daily Planet, a policy written for enough to rebuild twice over.

My eyes blur and I blink furiously to hold the tears at bay. I already knew that Lex had been behind the bombing, knew that his reasons for not rebuilding had nothing to do with money, but seeing the evidence of our suspicions overwhelms me. Clark places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. The monstrous reality of losing the Daily Planet and Perry to Lex’s careful orchestration is almost more than I can endure. For a moment, Clark’s gentle support is all that keeps me on my feet.

Quick on the heels of pain comes the searing heat of fury. The unmitigated gall of Lex’s actions and his belief that he not only would get away with it, but that he’s entitled to do anything he wants, causes a deep yearning for vengeance. I make a silent and solemn vow to bring him down and make him pay for his crimes and God help anyone who stands in my way.

Clark squeezes my shoulder again and I take in a deep breath, nodding to him that I’m all right. He looks unconvinced so I pointedly look at the watch on my wrist. Clark understands the message; although I appreciate the comforting gesture, our time in the penthouse is running out.

A moment later, Clark’s head snaps up and he looks intensely at the door behind me. I interpret his actions to mean he hears someone coming and my suspicions are confirmed when he immediately starts putting everything back in a blur. I just have time to get my scanner back into my bag before a gentle rush of wind flows around me and I find myself back in our room at the Apollo Hotel.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

tbc...