By Wednesday evening, Clark’s new house was starting to look like a home. Most of the furniture had been delivered, the kitchen cupboards were stocked with dishes, pots, and pans. The pantry and refrigerator were full. The built-in shelves which concealed the secret compartment in the living room were stacked with books and photographs. The only clue that he was still in the moving-in process was the large collection of art objects in one corner. He still hadn’t decided on wall coverings, so he couldn’t hang them up yet.
Clark spread half a dozen color sample cards across his new coffee table. “What do you think, Mom?”
“I think that after that rug is delivered tomorrow I’d better stop eating cold pizza in the living room,” Martha said with her mouth half full. “I can’t believe you flew this in from Honduras.”
“I wasn’t talking about your midnight snack; I was talking about the paint color for this room. Taupe? Dove grey? China blue?”
“How did you ever find this place? I mean, if I could fly I might look for pizza in New York or Chicago, but never Tegucigalpa.”
“Bruce told me about it. Maybe I should go for wallpaper. I sort of like the yellow pinstripe.”
“Bruce Davenport? The editor I met at that party in Greenwich?” Martha took a sip of cherry cola and squinted at the wallpaper swatches.
“Yeah. He loves to sail. One summer he took his two kids with him on a trip down the east coast and around the Gulf of Mexico to Central America. By the time they got to Honduras his son, Scott, was pretty homesick, so when they spotted this ‘New York Style’ pizzeria they were desperate enough to try it. When he heard I was heading down that way to work on ‘Northern Passage,’ he gave me the tip.”
“Well, thank you, Bruce.”
“Yeah, Mom, the pizza’s great, but I still don’t know what I’m doing with these walls. You’re supposed to be helping me decide.”
“I’m sorry, honey. It’s way past my bed time. I’m afraid my brain just isn’t firing on all cylinders. Let’s take a fresh look in the morning.”
“Okay. I think that’s about the last thing to be done. It’s going a lot faster than I’d hoped.”
“Super speed and ready cash are both big time savers.”
“Would you like to go back home tomorrow afternoon? Once I’ve got this wall decision made there isn’t much left for you to do here. I know Dad misses you.”
“And I miss him. Tomorrow would be great.” A small frown crossed Martha’s face. “I worry about you, though.”
“Me? Why? I’ve done enough painting around the house in Smallville. With super speed I’ll have the whole house painted in half an hour.”
“Not that, silly. I wonder what you’ll do with yourself after the house is finished.”
Clark shrugged. “Get a job, I suppose. Superman doesn’t keep me busy full time.”
“But what kind of job can you get without a Social Security card and a valid I.D.? You aren’t going to get false papers for Caleb Knight, are you? You know that would be illegal.”
“No. That won’t be necessary. There are plenty of people who are happy to hire a strong guy for cash wages without asking too many questions. As long as I pay the income taxes at the end of the year, it’s their problem, not mine.”
His mom was giving him an appraising look now. “What?” Clark asked.
“You’re going to go digging around Lex Luthor’s territory, aren’t you?”
“All of Metropolis is Lex Luthor’s territory, Mom. That can’t be helped.” He leaned across the coffee table and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful, but someone’s got to bring this guy down. Lois will do what she can from her end, but she can’t drop all her other projects to focus on Luthor full time. I can.”
“When you’re not busy being Superman.”
“Exactly. Now get some sleep. You’ve still got to help me pick my wall color in the morning, and then you’ve got to pack for home.”
Martha was carrying the remains of her pizza into the kitchen when Caleb’s cell phone rang. Not Clark’s; Caleb’s. As far as she knew there was only one person who had that number. As tempted as she was to listen in, Martha went through to the kitchen, making sure the door swung closed behind her.
She’d just wiped the last crumbs from the counter when Clark poked his head in. “Mom? I’m heading over to Lois’s. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”
“Take your time, honey. I’ll say goodnight now, though. I’m off to bed.”
Clark came all the way into the kitchen and hugged his mom goodnight. On his way out he turned back to add, “I may be bringing a houseguest home, so don’t wander around without your robe tonight.”
“Clark, don’t feel that you need to stay here for my sake. If you’d rather stay at Lois’s…”
“Mom! I wasn’t talking about Lois! I wouldn’t…never mind.” He took a breath and tried again. “Lois called because a strange man showed up at her apartment. He claims he’s the invisible man. I’m going over there to help her check him out. If I think he’s trustworthy, I may bring him here for the night.”
“Well, if Lois is alone in her apartment with a strange man, what are you still doing here? I’ll see you in the morning.”
***
When Martha emerged from the guest room the next morning, her son quickly stepped out of his room, fully dressed. “Mom,” he whispered, “there’s a man named Alan Morris asleep in the living room. Let me come down with you.”
“Sure, honey. We’ll sneak through to the kitchen and get some coffee going. Maybe you can duck out for pastries so I don’t wake him up cooking breakfast.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone with him. I didn’t even go out on patrol last night. Don’t worry, though. Lois should be here with bagels any minute now. She wanted to check in on him on her way to work.”
The coffee had just finished brewing when Lois arrived. Her entrance woke Mr. Morris, who looked around for a groggy moment before getting his bearings. “Thanks again for letting me stay here, Mr. Knight.”
“Caleb, please.” Clark corrected. “And, like I told you last night, any friend of Lois is always welcome here.”
“What’s this?” Lois asked, looking over the paint samples and wallpaper swatches which still littered the coffee table. Martha took the bag of bagels from her and headed into the kitchen.
“I’ve got everything set up except for the walls. I just can’t decide—wallpaper or paint? What pattern or color? I was trying to make up my mind when you called last night.”
Lois scanned the choices quickly and pulled one of the swatches out of the pile. Handing the square of material to Clark with a decisive nod, she said, “This one. I smell coffee.” Before he could answer, she disappeared into the kitchen. Clark pocketed the swatch and, bringing Alan along with him, headed after the women.
***
“So you were the original invisible man, but you’re not the one who’s been pulling all these robberies?” Martha clarified, pouring Alan his second cup of coffee.
“That’s right, Mrs. Knight…I mean Martha. My lab was broken into and several of my suits were stolen. I explained it all to Ms…to Lois and Caleb last night.”
“So somewhere in Metropolis is an invisible thief. That must be very frustrating for the police,” Martha said.
“And for Superman,” mumbled Caleb. Just then he cocked his head at an odd angle. After a moment he asked Martha, “Could you turn that radio on, please? I haven’t heard the weather report yet.” Martha gave him a quizzical look, but she reached for the radio nonetheless.
The announcer’s voice caught everyone’s attention “Repeating our top story, the city is gripped with fear this morning after last night's break-out at the Metropolis Penitentiary. The Invisible Man freed an entire cell block holding some of the nation's most vicious criminals. The Police Commissioner urges the people of Metropolis to remain calm, but has ordered a ten p.m. curfew for tonight. He asks all citizens to make sure that all windows and doors to their homes are securely locked.”
“Never mind, Mom.” Caleb sounded defeated. “I don’t need to hear the weather after all.”
“See?” Alan put in. “You know that couldn’t have been me. I was here all night.” He looked at Caleb for verification. “And so were you.”
“Yes, Alan, I was,” he confirmed gloomily.
Lois set her coffee cup down and stood up. “Well, I’d better get in to the office and see what I can do. I’ve got stacks of robbery reports to sort through. Are you going to be okay here, Alan?”
“I’ll be fine. If there’s anything I can do to help, please…”
“I’ll call if I think of anything.”
“Well, I’d better go take another look at those paint samples if I want to get home today.” Martha said, standing to see Lois off.
“No need, Mom. Lois chose for me.” Caleb showed the fabric sample to his mother.
She looked at Lois, than back at Caleb, and smiled. “I’d better get packing, then.” Looking from Alan to Caleb, she asked her son, “Will you still be able to take me to…the airport?”
“Will you be okay here for a little while?” Caleb asked Alan.
“Don't worry about me. If anything happens, I'll just... fade into the background.”
*****
At six o’clock that evening, Lois was still buried in piles of police reports. She’d moved her screening operation into the conference room, and she still had every available surface covered with files. She looked up at the sound of a soft knock. Caleb stood in the open doorframe, a paper bag in one hand and a six-pack of cream soda in the other.
“What are you doing here?” Lois smiled in greeting.
“I brought you dinner. I called a little while ago, and Jimmy said you hadn’t eaten yet. I hope you like Pad Thai.”
“I love it. Pull up a chair and clear off a space if you can.” She began consolidating piles to make room for their meal. “Why did you talk to Jimmy and not me?”
“He picked up your desk phone, said you told him to hold any calls that weren’t about the invisible man or Superman.” He leaned closer and said quietly, “It’s nice to know at least one of me still makes the cut.” As he pulled paper boxes of steaming noodles and shrimp from the bag he said, “Jimmy and I are getting to be quite friendly. We have a nice little chat just about every time I call.”
“In other words, he’s been grilling you mercilessly.”
“I don’t mind,” Caleb smiled. “It’s nice to know you have a friend at work who looks out for your interests.” He handed Lois a pair of chopsticks and a can of soda.
“He’s a little protective of me ever since…” She stopped suddenly.
“Ever since…” he prodded.
She gave her head a little shake. “I’ll tell you about it another time, I promise. Just not here.” She shot a significant look at the surrounding newsroom. Ah. A workplace romance gone bad. No wonder Jimmy was so keen on checking out the new guy.
“So,” Caleb looked around at the piles of file folders and notepads, “what’s all this?”
Lois sighed. “Every armed robbery in the last ten years. Even after eliminating all the armed robbers still in jail or accounted for somewhere else, I've still got hundreds of suspects.”
“Okay, so what have you got to go on?” Caleb slurped a long noodle into his mouth and dug a paper napkin out of the bag to wipe his chin.
“Not much. First he robs a jewelry store, then a rare coin shop.”
“Jewels? Collectors items?”
“Precious metals?”
“All precious metals? Or just some?” Caleb asked.
Lois looked at him, then grabbed a sheet of notes from under the soda cans. “A gold ring with emerald stones, gold chains, gold brooch, gold coins.” She trailed off, grinning widely at Caleb.
“Gold,” they said in unison.
“He steels gold,” Lois confirmed. “Jimmy!”
***
Jimmy spread a section of old newspaper on top of Lois’s files. “'Golden Boy' Barnes and his gang all went down for the last job they pulled,” he explained. “Several of them were in the cell block that broke out the other day.”
Lois and Caleb grinned at each other in triumph. “We've got him!” she crowed.
“But how can we find him?” Caleb asked.
“He's bound to strike again,” Jimmy offered.
“But where?” Caleb wondered.
“I know exactly where.” Lois said.
Jimmy and Caleb stared at her, eyebrows climbing. She was leaning over the newspaper article that Jimmy had been reading. Without a word, she pointed to the headline. It read: "Robbery at the Metropolis Gold Repository Foiled.” Beneath that, the sub-head was, "Golden Boy Barnes and His Gang to Serve Time."
*****
The taxi pulled away from Hyperion Avenue. Lois watched it go, then turned to tuck her hand into the proffered crook of Caleb’s arm. “Maybe I should buy a car,” she mused as they started up the steps. “I’ve never bothered with one before—they’re such a hassle in the city—but I’m going to get tired of never being able to talk openly with you when we’re riding somewhere.”
“You’re not upset that I wouldn’t…?” his voice trailed off and he made a hand motion which Lois knew indicated flying.
“No, you’re right; that shouldn’t be your everyday mode of transportation. There’s always the chance of getting caught, and the neighbors should see you coming and going like everyone else.”
She was about to mention the silver Jeep that had always been her ‘maybe someday’ car when Caleb laid his finger over his lips in a shushing motion. At her questioning glance, he gave a sideways nod toward his front door. “Alan’s asleep on my living room sofa,” he said softly.
“Poor guy; he hasn’t gotten much rest this week. Let’s let him sleep a little longer. He’ll be able to give us better answers if he’s rested, anyway.”
Taking her hand and pulling her gently down the steps, Caleb said, “Let’s sneak around to the back door. I’ll make us some tea while we wait.”
***
Lois followed Caleb through his back door into the warmth of his kitchen. He filled a teapot with water, stared at it for a moment, added the tea to steep, and reached two mugs down from a cupboard.
“I’m impressed,” Lois said. “Not an unpacked box in sight.”
Clark realized with a start that when she’d said she was impressed she’d been talking about the house and not his heat vision. For some reason he couldn’t articulate, that pleased him.
“Super speed,” he grinned cheekily. “It’s not just for rescues anymore.”
She leaned both elbows on the island counter and matched him grin for grin. “You don’t have any siblings, do you?”
He had a feeling she was going somewhere with this line of questioning, but he couldn’t imagine where. “No. Mom and Dad couldn’t have kids and they didn’t meet the criteria for adoption in the sixties, so there’s just me.”
“Just as well. You would have had an impossibly unfair advantage in sibling rivalry. You’d have had your Saturday morning chores done and been out the door to the movies before your brother had his bed made.”
“I don’t know about that.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I bet my hypothetical brother wouldn’t have set the barn on fire”—he pointed significantly at his eyes—“twice.”
Lois laughed. “Did you at least blow the fire out with your freezing breath?”
“Ha!” he scoffed. “You think any sixteen-year-old kid has that kind of presence of mind?”
“Sixteen? I thought you didn’t get your powers until you were eighteen.”
“I didn’t fly until then, but that was the last power to emerge. They came on gradually. At first it was so subtle we didn’t notice.” He leaned back against the countertop next to the sink and crossed his legs at the ankle. “The last time I remember being sick was my fourth birthday. I had the chickenpox for a week, then nothing else—not even a head cold. Then when I was ten I broke a knife tip while my mom was teaching me to slice onions. That’s when we found out I was invulnerable. Luckily I’d already had all my shots for school. The really weird stuff didn’t happen until adolescence.”
He poured the tea and reached over the island to hand one of the mugs to Lois. “Was it scary?” she asked with tenderness that none of her newsroom colleagues would have recognized.
“Sometimes. It took me a while to learn to control my hearing and my vision. Thank goodness we lived in the country. There are enough things a growing boy doesn’t need to hear on a farm. I can’t imagine going through that in a city like Metropolis.” He opened the back door and held one arm out in a silent invitation for Lois to join him on the patio.
As she followed him through into the sheltered back yard, she teased, “Farm boy, huh? You do realize that you have just narrowed your true identity down to 2% of the population, don’t you?”
He came to stand beside her, draping his free arm easily across her shoulders. “First off, I would be delighted if you thought of me as a simple farm boy. I haven’t felt like one in a long time.”
Lois hadn’t missed the wistfulness in Caleb’s voice. Clark Kent desperately needed to get a life that he could be happy in. Well, she was working on it, wasn’t she? She was pretty sure it wouldn’t involve farm animals, though.
“And second?” she prodded.
“And second, my true identity is who I am with you. Whether I’m dressed as Caleb Knight or Superman or anyone else doesn’t matter.” He gave her a one-armed hug and dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. She leaned her head against his chest for a moment, too touched to find the words for any verbal acknowledgement.
She took a moment to savor the weight of Caleb’s arm around her shoulders. It was both exhilarating and frightening to be the object of such confidence. For an instant Lois was accosted with the terrifying thought that she was responsible for the emotional well-being of the most powerful man in the world. What if she blew it? What if she broke Caleb’s heart and ruined Superman for everyone?
The thought receded as quickly as it came. Caleb was a man. He had the same needs as any other man—emotional as well as physical, she reminded herself quickly. And even if he did have relationship problems--which he wouldn't necessarily, despite her past record--that wouldn't mean that he couldn't function as Superman. If he couldn’t risk his heart for fear losing his self-control then he might as well join a monastery. And if he was going to risk his heart with anyone, she was bound and determined that it would be with her.
Needing a distraction from such heavy pondering, she straightened up and took an experimental sip of tea. It was surprisingly different from any she’d had before. It wasn’t what she’d expected, but she liked it.
“Nice,” was her remarkably articulate assessment.
“Lapsang Suchang,” he explained. “My mother used to make me tea and raisin scones when I was feeling bad. Years later I had them for tea at the London Savoy, but it never tasted as good.”
Still holding her mug in her left hand, Lois leaned her head on Caleb’s shoulder and looked up at the waning moon. “When we were little, Lucy and I'd play a game—we’d ask each other, 'What would you rather be able to do—fly, or be invisible?'”
“And you chose...”
“Invisible. I wished I could walk through all those closed doors. I guess I still do.”
“And what do you think you'll find there, behind those closed doors?”
“I don't know. Something different, wonderful... something I don't have, or can't have.” She paused thoughtfully. “Or thought I couldn’t.” She set her tea down on the patio table and turned herself to snuggle further into his one-armed embrace. “You *are* pretty wonderful, Mr. Knight,” she said, her cheek firmly pressed against his chest.
He put his tea down next to hers and used both arms to encircle her. “I’m different, anyway, that’s for sure,” his warm voice rumbled in her ear.
*****
The next afternoon, Clark flew through the clear October sky, his arms laden with bags of phosphorus. The scene which met him at the Metropolis Gold Repository was pretty much what he’d expected. Squad cars formed a barricade behind which crouched a dozen or more SWAT officers with automatic weapons. Confusion reigned as men shouted to each other, warning their colleagues about the presence of hostages and venting their frustration at the impossibility of taking a shot at invisible criminals. Using his hearing to estimate the location of the unseen robbers, Clark sprinkled the coarse white powder down on the scene below. Like a bad science fiction special effect, the members of Barnes’ gang appeared, brushing ineffectually at the grainy material which covered them from head to toe.
Clark landed and helped the police round up the thieves. He looked to the crowd of reporters gathered behind the police tape. That was odd. He was certain that Lois had said she’d meet him here. Quickly, he scanned the surrounding area. She must be getting a jump on the competition, maybe already talking to Inspector Henderson. In less than a minute, he was certain that Lois was nowhere in the vicinity. Unless…she wouldn’t have, would she? Oh, yes, she might have. Activating his x-ray vision, he hurriedly scanned the inside of the massive building. What he saw made his blood run cold. There was no time to waste.
***
Lois could feel the first signs of waning consciousness. Her head felt light. There was a rushing sound in her ears. Her vision was going black around the edges. If Caleb didn’t get here soon, there wouldn’t be…There he was now, crashing through the wall. Thank goodness! She gulped the fresh air which followed in his wake with grateful gasps. Ignoring the two guards and Alan Morrison, Superman caught Lois in his arms, barely stopping himself from kissing her in relief.
Scooping her up like a child, Caleb headed for the front door. Once in the sunshine she revived quickly. As he lowered her feet to the ground, she went into reporter mode. “How did you know how to make the thieves visible again?” she asked.
His only answer was a wordless scowl. Without so much as a ‘by your leave,’ he placed one hand on either side of her waist and flew straight up.
Lois was opening her mouth to protest when he shocked her into silence. “What the hell did you think you were doing?!” he shouted.
The shock and its accompanying silence were short lived. With a pointed glare at his hands on her waist, she matched him glare for glare. “I was about to ask you the same question. Since when does Superman kidnap innocent civilians in broad daylight?”
“Since he needs to have a shouting match with his irresponsibly reckless girlfriend, that’s when! Would you rather we have this out in front of the entire press corps?”
Lois crossed her arms and lifted her chin. He might have her captive in mid-air, but, as long as his hands were occupied with holding her up, she at least had the advantage on the gesturing front. “I don’t see what there is to ‘have out’ in the first place. I was just doing my job.”
“No, the twenty other reporters who were waiting where the police told them to were just doing their jobs; *you* were risking your life. There’s a difference.”
“Those twenty other reporters don’t have the inside story on Golden Boy Barnes and his gang, or on Alan Morris and his invisibility suit. And they don’t have a single Kerth award among them. Taking calculated risks *is* how I do my job. Get used to it!”
“How can I get used to seeing the woman I love in mortal danger, Lois?! Another minute later and you could have been dead! Do you have any idea how that terrifies me?”
Lois opened her mouth to issue a scathing rebuttal, then closed it again as his words registered in her brain. For the first time since their argument began, she looked carefully at Caleb’s face. What she saw there made her uncross her arms and bring her hands up to softly stroke his forehead and cheeks. His look of consternation at her sudden change of attitude made her smile. “Really?” she murmured.
“Yes, really,” he answered, without anger, but with undiminished intensity. ”I was scared to death. If anything happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“No, not that,” she said softly. “I meant…” Finding herself suddenly shy, she forced out, “You really love me?
For a moment he froze. Obviously he hadn’t realized that he’d voiced the thought aloud. But, seeing that she made no objection, he drew her into a tight embrace. She could hear his heart pounding in her ear, feel his chest rise and fall with every breath. After a delicious eternity of wordless tenderness, he pulled back enough to look her directly in the eye. “Yes.” His voice was strong and sure with no hint of doubt or reservation. “I love you—with everything I am and everything I ever hope to be.”
“I love you t…” she began. That was as far as she got. After that her mouth—and his, too, for that matter—was occupied with more important things than words.
