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Lois tied the mask across her eyes and over her gelled hair.

She looked ... different.

In fact, she bore no resemblance to Lois Lane, the not-particularly-feminine football reporter of the Herald Sun, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia who invariably hid her curves under jeans and a jumper.

She left Clark's room and descended the stairs, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of the cape flapping against her calves as she walked.

At the bottom of the stairs, she attempted a deep breath and then walked through the door.

Clark stood as she entered. He stared at her - not moving, not speaking.

"Clark?" Lois said hesitantly.

He didn't respond.

"Clark?"

Martha chuckled. "I don't think he's looking at your face, honey," she said.


Part 30

Clark followed Lois into her unit. She sank heavily onto the couch and made a rather dismal attempt to use one foot to remove the shoe from the other.

"I'll get them." Clark knelt onto the floor, undid the laces from both shoes, and tugged them from her feet.

Lois reclined into the couch and wriggled her newly freed toes. "Thanks," she said.

He stood. "Would you like a cup of tea? Coffee? Anything?"

"A cup of tea would be lovely," Lois said. "Thanks, big guy."

Clark moved across to the kitchen and filled two cups with water. He zapped them and reached for the teabag container. He had just come from his first Hawthorn game with Lois. Their team had been ahead at half time, but the ladder leaders - the top ranked team, North Melbourne - had surged during the third quarter, and the Hawks had fallen away.

While watching the game, Clark had found his attention constantly being drawn back to Lois. Something was wrong. He'd expected her disappointment at the loss, but it was more than that.

They'd arrived at the MCG as the gates had opened two hours prior to the game and between them had tried to talk to as many Hawthorn fans as possible.

They had taken contact numbers, given out the flyer Lois had designed and printed that day, pleaded with supporters to think about what they wanted for their club, and asked questions aimed at gauging the feeling of the fans.

Lois had been business-like, purposeful ... detached even. It would have easy to believe she was a paid researcher with no emotional connection to the subject of discussion.

When the game began, Lois's passion and excitement had seemed restrained. She'd been more upbeat during the first half certainly, but when North had come with their run in the third quarter, she'd seemed more resigned than devastated.

"Is there a problem?" Lois asked from the couch.

Clark quickly got the milk from the fridge. "Just letting it brew," he said.

He brought over their drinks and offered her one. "How are you feeling?" he asked as he sat beside her.

"Tired."

Tired? Or something else? "Buoyant or dejected?" Clark probed. "Hopeful or despondent?"

"Not buoyant," she said dispiritedly. "As they say in an election, it's too early to call. The merger group have made good use of their prior knowledge and are definitely ahead right now. The key is still how much the Hawthorn supporters want to keep Hawthorn and what they are willing to do to save their club."

"You've made a good start."

"*We've* made a good start." She put her hand on his knee. "Thanks, Clark."

Silence fell again as Lois sipped her tea and stared ahead.

"Lois?" Clark said.

"Uhm?"

"You seemed ... disconnected from the game. It wasn't what I expected."

Lois stretched out her legs and settled them on the corner of the coffee table. "It's hard to get emotionally involved in a game where, realistically, it doesn't matter whether we win or lose," she said. "There've been other games, of course - games late in a season when we've known that we aren't going to make finals - but there was always reason to look ahead. You can watch the kids; you can see who looks like he might make it; you can try to glimpse the future and hope for better times."

"But now, there might not be a future?"

"Exactly."

"Have you thought about that?"

"Yes ... No. I'm trying to concentrate on what needs to be done rather than what happens if ... if we lose this fight."

Her last words trailed away to a heavy silence.

Clark waited, giving her time.

Lois lifted her cup but then lowered it without drinking. "What happens to Hawthorn people?" she said plaintively. "What happens to the old people who have followed Hawthorn for a lifetime? What happens to the kids who are dreaming about playing for Hawthorn? What happens to our history? What happens to the pieces in our museum that mean nothing to everyone else, but to us represent living memories? What happens to Crimmo's jumper? It won't mean anything to Melbourne. What happens to all the little idiosyncrasies that make Hawthorn Hawthorn? What happens to our sausage sizzles? What happens to our oh-so-corny theme song? What happens to that feeling ... that *belonging* that sets us apart from everyone else?"

Much of it would fade into the stagnant pages of the past. And Lois knew it.

"Lois," Clark said, "When Seb was here, you said that if the merger goes ahead, you won't watch football again."

She stared ahead.

"Did you mean that?"

Lois looked at him, her eyes clouded. "Clark, one part of my life is so secure right now - how I feel about you - but everything else is so uncertain. And it's all interwoven. What happens to Hawthorn will affect us."

"Lois, you know I want to be with you," Clark said. "But I don't want you to give up everything else in your life."

Some of the turmoil lifted from her expression. "Thank you."

Clark hesitated. "Lois, I don't want to interfere, but have you thought about Browny's suggestion?"

Lois reached far enough to hook her fingers around his chin and turn him more directly towards her. "Clark, it would be impossible for you to interfere. We're together now - that means I value your opinion." Her face brightened, although she didn't quite manage a smile. "Even if I won't always agree."

He smiled in return. "Have you thought about what Browny said?"

Lois sipped her tea. "I wasn't expecting him to react like that."

"It didn't surprise me," Clark said.

"He didn't even *look* at my resignation," Lois said with still-fresh wonder. "He chucked it onto his desk and told me that if I gave him two games a weekend, he'd give me the rest of the week to work for Hawthorn."

Clark had been with Lois in Browny's office. She'd told the editor that the smart decision would be to replace her.

And Browny had told her - quite forcefully - that he didn't want to replace her.

Lois had muttered that she would think about it and hurried out of the editor's office. When Clark had caught up to her, she'd been wiping her eyes.

"Have you made a decision?" Clark asked now.

Lois smiled from above her cup. "I rang Browny this afternoon," she said. "I thanked him for his very generous offer and told him I would cover two games a week and take the other four days as annual leave. He's given me Carlton-Fremantle tomorrow and Fitzroy-Footscray on Sunday."

"I have Geelong-Adelaide tomorrow," Clark said. "But I have Fitzroy-Footscray on Sunday."

"Really?" Lois said, showing a welcome spark of interest. "Wanna come with me?"

"I would go *anywhere* with you."

She smiled at his response but it died quickly. "Clark," she said solemnly. "Do you trust me? Now?"

Her question hit him like an unexpected blow from behind. "Of course, I trust you, Lois. I trust you totally."

She held her hand towards him. "Then stop worrying that I'll change my mind about you."

Clark took her hand and smiled. "You always seem to know what I'm thinking," he said.

She smiled, too. "So, stop worrying. The way ahead may be hazy - there's a chance we won't be able to be together in public unless we both look like we should be at a fancy dress party - but we *will* be together."

Clark chuckled.

"What?" Lois asked.

"I was thinking about our river walk the night before I went to Brisbane ... and imagining us in the future - walking together, capes fluttering and spandex squeaking."

"Will you kiss me?" Lois asked. "When Superman is out with his girl?"

"I will want to," Clark said with certainty.

"You *wanted* to when we were by the river," she reminded him with a teasing smile. "But you didn't."

"I won't make that mistake again," Clark vowed.

"I was really annoyed with you," Lois said.

"You were?"

She nodded. "I so, *so* wanted you to kiss me. I was devastated when you didn't. I wanted to push you into the river."

Clark smiled. "I wanted to kiss you, too - I wanted to so much."

"I understand now why you didn't - the secret and all that - but at the time, I was totally exasperated with you."

"Sorry," he said with a rueful smile.

Lois put her cup on the lamp stand. "You know something?" she said. "I'm too far away."

He concurred totally.

She rotated, shuffled back, lay across his lap, and rested in the curve of his far arm. "That's better," she said.

"Much," he agreed. He casually rested his other arm across her stomach.

"We don't know what's going to happen with Hawthorn," Lois said. "But I think it's important that we plan how we're going to manage living on different sides of the world."

"You still think you should come to the interview?"

She nodded. "Have you heard from the papers about setting a time?"

"The morning editions will be out by now - there'll probably be something in them."

"Do you still have concerns that the interview will throw up something we aren't expecting?"

Clark paused. "I recognise that it's a good idea for Superman to be a more accessible - but I don't trust either Mayson or Linda. I'm uneasy about what they will ask."

"We'll both be there," Lois said. "We can help each other." She laid her arm along his forearm and threaded her fingers through his. "Are you still OK with me being there?"

"I hate the thought of putting you in any possible danger."

"But?"

"But whatever happens regarding the merger, introducing you at the interview will give us a way to be together. Lois Lane has a public profile - the guy we rescued in the Otways recognised you. Being reporters, it's like publishing a record of our whereabouts. Lois Lane and Clark Kent can't be seen together if you've just filed a story on a footy game in Melbourne and I've just filed a story on a crime in Metropolis."

"I think the interview will be easier than you imagine," Lois said.

Clark hoped so. "Have you thought about how we should approach it?"

"I don't think you should volunteer anything," she said. "Put the onus squarely on them. If they want to know something, make them ask. I think we should arrive, sit down, and wait for their questions as if there's nothing remarkable about my presence. Don't introduce me - let them ask."

"They'll be falling over themselves to get the first question," Clark said. "And it will be about you."

Lois nodded, and her grin made a brief appearance. "So, my presence immediately shifts the focus away from your past, and how you got to Earth, and what the green rock does to you."

"Are you willing to answer questions?" Clark asked. "Or would you prefer that I shielded you? I can tell them to direct questions only to me."

"I think this interview is about you, and you should do most of the talking. But if they ask a question where it's easier for me to answer than you, I will."

"What question would be easier for you?" Clark asked, not quite able to squeeze all the apprehension from his tone.

Lois smiled up at him reassuringly. "We need to remember that this is a team effort," she said. "Like footy, it doesn't matter who kicks the goals so long as the team wins."

"And we're the team?"

Lois smiled. "You bet. Team Superman. But we do need to decide on our roles."

"Roles?"

"Who's going to defend, and who's going to attack."

"Mayson and Linda are going to attack," Clark predicted grimly.

Lois smiled. "I think you should play the straight guy. Still be Superman - a little bit distant, a little bit impassive, a little bit mysterious. Answer the questions verbally, but don't let them see too much."

"And you'll be?"

"The not-so-straight guy. I can be more flexible."

"You'll have to be careful, Lois," Clark warned. "You can't say or do anything that is indicative of Lois Lane. We can't allow them to recognise me as Clark Kent, but it's just as important that they don't recognise you."

"I know," Lois said. "But they've never met me. That's in our favour."

"This is Mayson Drake and Linda King," Clark said forebodingly.

"What are they like?" Lois asked. "Do you think they will work together?"

"I doubt it," Clark said. "Mayson rarely works *with* anyone. Linda will probably appear to be the more affable of the two, but I don't trust her either. Mayson won't bother trying to hide her dislike and suspicions."

"The more I hear about Mayson, the more convinced I am about being there," Lois said. "Which means I need a name. Do you have any suggestions?"

Clark grinned. "I have a *lot* of suggestions."

Lois looked at him in surprise. "Really? Such as?"

"Amazing Woman. Incredible Woman. Gorgeous Girl."

"I know this is being ultra cautious, but perhaps we should stay away from words beginning with 'A'. We don't want anyone to connect me with Australia."

"OK," Clark said. "How about Unbelievably Sensational Awesome Woman?"

She grinned. "Don't you think that's a bit of a mouthful?"

"Unique Superbly Alluring Woman?"

Lois chuckled. "Less is more, Clark."

"Ultra Sexy Woman?"

Clark had expected her to dismiss that idea instantly, but she considered it. "Ultra Woman?" she said thoughtfully. "Do you think that works?"

"Ultra Woman," Clark said. "That sounds good."

"OK," Lois said. "Ultra Woman it is."

Clark nuzzled into her neck. "You're my *ultra* woman."

Lois put her hands on his shoulders and hauled herself further onto his lap. "You still owe me the kiss from the river walk," she said quietly.

Clark lightly rested his hands on her ribcage, closed his eyes, and waited for the wondrous touch of her mouth on his.

When it came, he kissed her as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist ...

Because for him, it had.

||_||

With regret, Lois eased away from the lure of Clark's mouth. She swept her thumb over his lower lip - still shaped to their kiss. She gazed into the melting brown eyes that left no doubt as to how much he enjoyed their closeness.

"It's late," he murmured. "Do you want me to leave now?"

No. She didn't. She wanted him to warm her bed with his incredible eyes and then snuggle in beside her and hold her while she succumbed to her exhaustion.

Except ... exhausted though she was, Lois was fairly certain that if the first part of that image played out, the second wouldn't be possible.

"It is late," she agreed with a sigh. Leaving him - even for the few hours overnight - had quickly become the nadir of her day.

"And tomorrow we have games to cover," he said, as if trying to convince both of them that she should rise from his lap and he should walk out of her door.

"Do you think this will ever get any easier?" she said.

"Never."

Lois paused - torn between the choice to stand and the choice to settle comfortably against his chest. She knew that if she did, his arms would close around her again.

The phone shrilled through her indecision, and she groaned. "It's late for a phone call."

"Maybe it's someone we talked to at the football tonight."

Grudgingly, Lois rose from Clark's lap and picked up the phone. "Lois Lane."

There was a slight hesitation, and then a familiar voice spoke. "Lois. It's Dan."

"Dan," she said, knowing her voice betrayed her surprise. "Ah ... how are you?"

"OK," he said, though she knew him too well not to be able to pick up the despondency in his tone. "Actually, I'm ringing to ask how you are. I ... ah ... I heard about the proposed merger with Melbourne."

"Oh, Dan," she said, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you for calling."

"So ... how are you? I've been thinking about you. I know this would've hit you pretty hard."

"Yeah, it did."

"I heard the members are going to vote."

"In September."

"I guess you're campaigning against it."

"Yeah."

"Good luck, Lois," Dan said sincerely. "I really hope you find a way out of this. I know what it feels like."

Yes, he did. He'd already lost his club. "Dan," Lois said, feeling a wave of regret at what had happened between them. She'd missed him. "I really appreciate you calling."

"Lois." He paused. "Lois, there's something else I want to say. I know we didn't part on the greatest of terms, and I want to say how sorry I am for the way things turned out. It was my fault - I never should've put you in that position, and I know you took the rap for it with the blokes at the paper - and I'm really sorry."

"It's OK, Dan," she said. "I understood."

"And I also wanted to say that ... I really appreciate your honesty, Lois. You were always straightforward - you never played games, never tried to mislead me, never tried to make out you felt things you didn't."

"We're friends, Dan," Lois said. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"I miss you, Lois," he said. "I miss Melbourne, and I miss the footy, and I miss all the good times we had together."

"We had some really good times, didn't we?" Lois said wistfully.

"Yeah," Dan said. "Maybe ... maybe when I get home, we can have a drink together? Like the old days? Just two friends hanging out together?"

Lois felt her heart sink. "I don't know, Dan. Perhaps it would be best if we didn't ..."

"You've found someone else, haven't you?"

"Dan."

"Haven't you?"

"I ... Dan ... I ... yes, I have."

Dan was silent for a long moment. "I hope he's knows he's a lucky mongrel," he said. "Do I know him?"

"No."

She heard a rough, completely unconvincing laugh. "So, it's not Bluey?"

"No."

He waited - probably to give her the chance to expound if she wanted to.

"Dan," Lois said. "I do appreciate you ringing."

"Good luck with Hawthorn, Lois."

"Thanks."

The line went dead. Lois slowly replaced the phone. Clark had left the couch and was staring at the door, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He turned to her, his face impassive. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't know if you'd want me to leave ... but I didn't want to go without saying goodnight."

She crossed to him and put her hands on his shoulders. "Clark Kent," she said. "I thought we'd established that we don't have any secrets from each other."

"Yes, but ... I wasn't sure you'd want me listening in to your private conversation."

Lois smiled. "Even if you'd walked out, you could still hear."

"Yeah - but I wouldn't."

"That was Dan," Lois said. "He rang to tell me he'd heard about Hawthorn and to wish us luck in trying to save our club."

"It sounded like he asked something you didn't want to answer."

"Yeah, he did. He asked if I'd found someone else."

Clark's expression looked forcibly deadpan. "And you didn't want to tell him?"

"I thought it best not to give him too many details." Lois slipped her arms around his neck. "If I tell Dan that Clark Kent has a new girlfriend, he might mention it to Mayson. Then, Mayson has the biggest interview of her life and ... guess what ... Superman has a girlfriend. If she's as good as everyone says, there's a chance she'll make a connection. Or at least wonder."

Clark's concern cleared. "That's a stretch," he said.

"Yes," she admitted. "But we can't take any risks."

"Does that mean we're going to have to keep our relationship secret?"

"Not a secret exactly," Lois said. "But at this point, Lois and Clark don't have too much of a future beyond September. And I'm not sure that Lois and Clark should flaunt their love at exactly the time that Superman reveals his girlfriend."

Clark slid his hand through her hair. "I'm sorry you had to be evasive with Dan."

"Clark," Lois said earnestly, "I know I'll have to hide things. I'll have to keep secrets and dodge the truth. And, if there's no other way, I will lie outright. But if the alternative threatens our secret, I'm willing to do that."

Clark smiled. "*Our* secret," he said.

She nodded. "Our secret. We're in this together."

Clark tightened his arms around her and kissed her. He abandoned his usual restraint as he thoroughly investigated her lips. Lois opened her mouth, inviting him in. The tip of his tongue touched her upper lip, and they both trembled at the contact.

He pulled away and leant his head on hers. She waited for him - to ease them back or take them forward. He stepped back and gestured to the door. "I should go," he said. "It's late."

Lois nodded as disappointment and respect twisted through her.

"Did Dan say anything about Mayson?" Clark asked.

"No. Nothing. Why?"

"When I was there as Superman, it looked like there could be something between Mayson and Dan."

"Mayson and Dan?" Lois said with surprise. "From all you've told me about Mayson, I wouldn't have thought that would work at all."

"I was surprised, too," Clark said. "I saw them together after the bomb scare, and they seemed ... close."

"Dan didn't say anything ... maybe something happened. He sounded a bit down - I thought it was because he understood about Hawthorn - having lost Fitzroy."

Clark gathered her close again. She allowed his nearness to fill her so she could get through the hours without him. Finally, he released her.

"Good night, big guy," Lois said. "Meet you at the office after the game tomorrow?"

He nodded. "I hate leaving you."

"Yeah." She stretched up and kissed him - deliberately keeping it short so their parting might be as painless as possible.

He kissed the very end of her nose. "I love you, Lois," he said.

"I love you, Clark."

He left, and Lois closed the door behind him. Refusing to wallow in her lonesomeness, she turned on the television and rewound the video tape of tonight's game.

She sighed as the game began. She would only watch the first quarter. Hawthorn had won that quarter, and, for a time, she had hoped for an unlikely victory. They were out of the Eight now, and their chances of playing finals were slim. There were four games left in the season.

Four more games.

Maybe ... four games ... forever.

The television screen blurred as hot tears stung her eyes. Four games and then ... maybe ... no more.

Ever.

||_||

Note - The AFL season is 22 rounds, followed by 4 weeks of finals. The teams 'in the Eight' at the conclusion of Round 22 play in the finals.