The men with the gurney disappeared into Luthor’s office. There was an initial burst of murmurs from the crowd of reporters, but it soon died down as they all strained to hear what was happening behind that mahogany-paneled door. Lois knew there had to be some mistake. Clark was invulnerable.
In a matter of minutes the gurney re-emerged and Lois gasped in horror. Clark—beautiful, invulnerable, indestructible Clark—lay unconscious and pale, that perfect chest bare and wrapped in bandages, an IV bag held aloft by one of the EMTs.
Pete came running out after the techs, yelling at them to stop. They pointedly ignored him. “You have no right,” Pete insisted. “I told you, I have standing orders from Mr. Kent: no hospitals. Let me take him home and I promise his private physician will treat him.”
The EMTs didn’t break stride as the senior one explained—obviously not for the first time in this argument—that it didn’t matter what Mr. Kent’s security officer said—only Mr. Kent himself or his next of kin had the right to make medical decisions for him. And since Mr. Kent was in no position to give his opinion, they had no choice but to get him to the nearest trauma center.
Pete looked around in near panic, apparently searching for someone—anyone—who would take his side and help him stop the EMTs. His eyes landed on Lois and he looked relieved. It took her a moment to clear her head enough to make the connection. She had no idea what had happened in that office, but it was clear that not only Clark but his secret as well were in serious danger. She wouldn’t risk his life to save his secret, but she could at least buy enough time to figure out what was happening and exactly how much danger he was in.
She lifted the yellow tape and started to duck under it. Perry put a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Hold on there, Lois…”
Before Perry could finish his sentence, Cat interrupted him. “No, Chief. Let her go.”
As she straightened up on the other side of the police tape, Lois threw a quick, grateful glance back at Cat. Then she strode briskly toward the gurney. “Stop!” she shouted. By this time the EMTs were almost to the elevator, but Lois’s unexpected outburst caused them to stop long enough to ascertain who was shouting at them.
She was almost at Clark’s side when Bill Henderson stopped her with a firm grip on her arm. “Lois, you know better. This is no time for games—a man’s life is at stake. Now get out of the way and let these people do their job.”
Lois pulled her arm out of Henderson’s grasp and looked him straight in the eye. Her voice came out low and deadly calm. “No, Bill, you get out of my way, because I’m not playing, and no one is going anywhere with that gurney until I say so. Now back off and let me get to my husband.”
Lois didn’t notice the questioning looks that the techs threw at Bill, nor the detective’s look of shock that morphed into a confused shrug. She had eyes only for Clark as she leaned over him and brushed a tender hand over his forehead. He felt warm, maybe even feverish, but also sweaty. Was that a good sign that his body was trying to bring the fever down or a bad one? She couldn’t remember ever seeing Clark sweat before.
She looked up at Pete who leaned over her shoulder, his face as drawn and anxious as her own. He gave a miniscule shrug—he didn’t know what to do any more than she did. “How bad is it?” she asked the chief technician.
Once again, the man looked to the detective for guidance, and once again got very little direction. Lois was losing patience. Lifting Clark’s left hand in her right and holding her own left hand next to his, she practically waved them under the man’s nose. “Look: matching rings. Are you satisfied? I’m Mrs. Kent, and I want answers. How bad are my husband’s injuries?”
Whether the man was satisfied or intimidated, Lois neither knew nor cared. In either case, he answered her. “I can’t tell much from here, ma’am. The bullet entered near his left collar bone and exited just under his shoulder blade. The fact that it went all the way through is good. There’s no obvious bone fragments near either of his wounds. But that area has a lot of important parts—nerves, blood vessels, lung—which could have been damaged. He’s breathing okay for now, but there could be all sorts of internal injuries. He hasn’t regained consciousness since he was shot, and that’s not a good sign. We really need to get him to a trauma center.”
Again Lois looked to Pete, and to Lana who had now arrived as well. It was obvious that they were just as torn as Lois herself. Did they dare risk Clark’s health in order to protect his secret? She knew what Clark himself would say—he was always willing to sacrifice his own welfare in order to protect his loved ones. But Clark wasn’t the one making this decision, and he’d certainly never anticipated any physical danger to himself. She was his wife, and it was her job to decide what was in his best interest. She wouldn’t let him die—that was never even a question. But how much danger was he really in? How could she know? Did he really have a private physician who was in on his secret, or had Pete made that up? Why would Clark have ever thought he’d even need a doctor? He was invulnerable, after all—only now he wasn’t. Would the hospital staff even be able to detect any difference now that something—who knew what—had made him vulnerable? Did he look any different from any other injured man? But looks could be deceiving. He could look and act entirely human, but what about blood tests? Did Kryptonians have the same blood types as humans? Would something in Clark’s physiology stand out as alien in a hospital laboratory?
“Oh, Clark,” she said softly, her forehead almost touching his, “what am I going to do?” She still held his hand in hers, and she was surprised to feel a squeeze as if in answer to her question. He didn’t open his eyes, but it seemed he knew that she was there. She didn’t know whether he could understand what she said or was just vaguely aware of her presence, but she leaned even closer and murmured, “You’re hurt, Clark; you’ve been shot. They want to take you to the hospital.” She was sure she saw him frown in response. “Pete wants to take you home instead,” she offered. Another squeeze in response. She guessed that meant yes. “I’m worried. You could be in real danger,” she told him.
This time his eyes did open briefly and he tugged on her hand. He seemed to be beckoning her closer, which was almost physically impossible. Then she realized what he wanted. She put her ear next to his mouth and heard a faint whisper, “Very…weak…but…getting better…fast. Don’t…let them…find out.”
That settled it. Lois placed a kiss on Clark’s forehead. He felt cooler than he had only a few minutes ago. She didn’t know how, but he did seem to be recovering much more quickly than a normal human would. His secret was definitely in danger, and his health apparently less so. She’d check him over thoroughly as soon as she could, of course, but it looked like Pete’s first instinct had been right; the hospital was to be avoided if at all possible. She told herself that if necessary she would track down her father. He was a surgeon, and he owed her and Clark a lot for saving him from Lex during that boxing scandal. If push came to shove, she would risk trusting him with their secret. But for now she needed to get Clark home away from prying eyes.
Her decision made, she turned her mind to the thorny problem of actually implementing it. Her first step was to gather her allies. She turned to Pete and Lana. Her voice came out low but urgent. “We have to get him home. Now!”
Pete nodded his agreement. “I’ve got a car waiting by the back door.” At Lois’s surprised look he added, “It’s standard procedure for celebrities. You never know when you’re going to have to make a quick exit.”
“Okay.” She turned next to the senior medical tech. “Can we use your gurney to get him to the car? We can take him from there.”
The man was clearly reluctant. “Like I told you, ma’am, he really needs to get to a hospital. I can’t be responsible for what might happen if you take him home now.”
“No, but I can, and I am.” She tried softening her tone. “Look, I know you’re trying to help, but I’m his wife, and I have to do what I think is best for him. I know he doesn’t want to go to the hospital, and he’ll be under the care of an excellent physician. Now, are you going to help me get him to his car or not?”
The man looked helplessly from Lois to Clark to Bill. “You’re really his wife?” Bill asked Lois.
“I really am. The Rosses can vouch for me.”
At Pete and Lana’s confirming nods, the detective gave a resigned shrug. “She’s in charge, then,” he told the tech. Then to Lois, “If that private doc can’t handle him, you call 911. Whatever your husband has against hospitals, it isn’t worth his life.”
“I will.” Turning back to the tech, she asked, “Can we go now?”
*****
The tech advised them to leave the IV running until it was empty, just to make sure Clark was hydrated. But moments after they pulled away from the LexTower’s back door Clark began scratching at the site where the needle entered his arm. Pete was driving, Lana sitting in the passenger seat next to him. Lois sat in the back with Clark’s head in her lap, his body lying across the back seat. She tried to stop him from scratching at the IV needle, but, half-awake, he insisted, “It itches.”
“Clark, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” She spoke firmly to him on the theory that he wasn’t really aware of what he was doing.
He didn’t stop. Instead, he opened his eyes and, in one swift motion, pulled the needle out and ripped the tape off his arm, thus freeing himself from the annoyance. “That’s better,” he said drowsily and drifted back to sleep. Lana, who had turned around at the sound of Clark’s struggles, pulled a small first aid kit from the glove compartment and fished out a Band-Aid, but when Lois tried to apply it to the IV site, she couldn’t find the wound. Clark’s arm was whole and unmarked, as if the IV had never been there.
“I think we got him out of there just in time,” Lois remarked. She was sorely tempted to peek under Clark’s bandages, but she didn’t have anything to replace them with if her hopes proved premature. She turned on the dome light and looked him over as well as she could in the limited space available. He’d been pale when he’d first emerged from Luthor’s office, but now his color looked healthy. He was no longer sweating, and his temperature felt normal. She could feel a strong, steady pulse at his wrist. It was slightly slower than a normal man’s, but she knew from nights of falling asleep with her head on Clark’s chest that his heartbeat was always slow. They had both chalked it up to his super strength.
“How’s he doing?” Pete asked.
“Better than anyone who’s just been shot should be doing. I don’t know about his blood pressure, but all his vital signs that I can check seem normal. He’s asleep, but he seems comfortable.” Lois was no doctor, but she’d learned enough from her parents to feel relatively confident in her assessment.
“Okay. Let me know if he seems to be getting worse. If he’s okay, I’m going to take the long way home. And hold on tight, because there may be some sudden turns. We’ve got about four cars of reporters to lose.”
As it turned out, it only took Pete about fifteen minutes to lose their tails. Twenty minutes after that, they pulled into the alley that ran behind the brownstones on Hyperion Avenue. Lois got out and let herself into the house through the back door, then down the basement steps to open the garage door. Pete pulled the car into the garage. It took all three of them—Lois, Pete, and Lana, to lift Clark up the stairs, but after some huffing and puffing they managed to make it up the two flights to the bedroom. Lana pulled the covers back before they laid him down on the bed.
Lois retrieved the plastic bin full of first aid supplies from the cabinet under the master bathroom sink. She’d teased Clark when she’d first seen it there. Why in the world would an invulnerable man keep a stash of medical supplies? But he’d just said that his folks always kept one around—accidents were pretty common on a farm—and he never knew when a visitor might need some first aid. Neither of them had ever imagined that she’d be using it on him. She pulled out a box of gauze pads, a roll of bandages, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and some adhesive tape. Pete helped her get Clark’s jacket and shirt off, and Lana appeared with a bath towel to lay under Clark’s head and shoulders. “Easier than changing the sheet,” she explained.
Lois was encouraged when Clark stirred enough to at least try to cooperate as they undressed him. “How do you feel?” she asked on the off chance that he was awake enough to reply.
“Tired,” he mumbled as they laid him down on the towel.
Deciding that it would be easiest to cut the bandages off rather than try to keep Clark upright while unwrapping them, Lois sent Lana to the kitchen for a pair of scissors. While they waited, she asked Pete, “Does he really have a personal physician?”
“No, I was bluffing,” he answered. “I’ve been thinking that if we needed to we could call Dr. Gibson. He’s the Kents’ family doctor. He helped them forge Clark’s birth certificate years ago, but I don’t think he’s retired yet. It would take him hours to get here, though, and he’s a general practitioner, not a surgeon. I don’t know any doctors in Metropolis; I wouldn’t know who to trust.”
“I do,” Lois reassured him. “My dad’s a surgeon. We could trust him if we had to.”
Lana returned with the scissors and Lois very carefully eased one blade between the cloth and Clark’s skin and cut the bandages away. Her first job was to clean the dried blood away from his shoulder. “Sorry, honey, this might sting,” she warned her sleeping husband. Pouring a little hydrogen peroxide onto a gauze pad she went to work.
All three of them stared in astonishment as the last of the old blood was wiped away. Other than a small round patch of new, pink skin, there was no sign of injury whatsoever. “Help me roll him over so I can check the exit wound,” Lois told Pete.
“I can do it,” Clark mumbled, suiting actions to words. Lois surmised that he must be awake enough to hear what they said, if too tired to respond much. After cleaning the second wound—or rather, what had been the second wound—she was satisfied. Clark was healing at super-human speed. She was a little concerned that he hadn’t completely regained consciousness yet, but she figured that most of his energy was going to repair his body. Still, she couldn’t quite relax until she’d asked him some questions.
“Clark, can you wake up for just a minute?” she prodded.
“I am awake,” he answered, eyes still closed.
“All the way, honey. Can you sit up and talk to me for just a little while?”
With a visible effort, Clark roused himself enough to open his eyes and sit with his back against the headboard.
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I know you’re tired. I just need to make sure you’re okay. Talk to me—how does everything feel? Does it hurt anywhere?”
“No. It did earlier, but not anymore.”
“Can you breathe easily?”
Clark took a couple of experimental deep breaths before answering, “I can breathe fine.”
“Let me see you move your arm.”
Slowly at first, then with growing confidence, Clark raised his arm to the front, side, and over his head. He shrugged his shoulder up and down and rolled it in a circle. “It feels pretty good,” he told her with obvious surprise.
“No pain at all?”
“Not really. A little tender maybe.”
“No headache? Vision problems?” She wasn’t sure that was even relevant, but she thought it had something to do with blood pressure.
“No headache. And I can see fine…” his voice seemed to trail off for a moment and he frowned.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I can see normally, just not…super.”
“You mean no x-ray vision, no telescopic sight…”
“Exactly.” He cocked his head to one side in the motion that Lois recognized as his super-hearing pose. “No super-hearing, either.” Reaching for the paperback novel on his nightstand, he tried to tear it in two. “Not too strong, either, just…normal.” Lois couldn’t tell whether he thought that was a good thing or a bad one. Perhaps he wasn’t sure himself.
“You’re exhausted, Clark. I wouldn’t worry about that tonight. What you need is a good night’s sleep, and I bet you’ll be back to your old self in no time.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced.
Lois leaned in to place a tender kiss on his mouth. As she pulled back she told him, “You know I love you, powers or no powers. We all do. It’s the man under the suit that we love.” Pete and Lana murmured their agreement.
Clark started to lie down again, but then he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Where do you think you’re going, mister? You need to rest.” Lois tried to push him back down.
“I need to go,” Clark insisted.
“Go where?” He wasn’t delirious, was he? He’d seemed so lucid just moments before.
“Lois,” he countered, “I have to go.” The light bulb went on.
“Oh. I’m sorry. Do you need help?”
“No. I can manage.” Lois wasn’t sure which of the four people in the room was the most embarrassed.
As Clark made his way into the master bathroom, Pete and Lana started backing toward the bedroom door. “It looks like you’ve got things under control here,” Lana offered.
“If it’s okay with you, we’ll crash in the guest room,” Pete suggested.
“Of course. Let me show you…” Lois began.
“No need,” Lana reassured her. “I’m the one who bought this house for Clark—we can find our way around. You stay with him. And just holler if you need help.”
“Thank you.” It was all Lois could think of to say, but Lana’s answering smile told her it was enough.
“Well, you two get a good night’s sleep,” Lana said in parting. She checked her watch. “I doubt Martha and Jonathan have heard the news tonight. They would have called if they had. I’ll call them in the morning, unless you want to.”
“I didn’t even think of that,” Lois admitted.
“Of course not,” Lana replied with a sympathetic tone. “You had other things on your mind. Besides, they won’t worry, even if they do hear that Clark’s been shot. They’ll assume there’s been some mistake. And, at the rate he’s healing, we’ll have good news for them in the morning.”
“Thanks.” Lois looked from Lana to Pete and back again. “You two are good friends, to both of us.”
“Any time,” Pete said, stepping forward to give Lois a chaste kiss on the cheek. “That’s what friends are for.”
“Goodnight,” Lana said as she closed the door behind them.
Clark came out of the bathroom clad in only his briefs. Lois stepped toward him to offer him her support as he made his way back to the bed. Instead, he turned her body to face his and enveloped her in a bear hug, his head resting on the top of hers. She wrapped her arms around him and breathed in his scent. As she let the breath out again, she could feel some of the tension leaving her body.
“Oh, Clark!” That was all she could manage to say before her voice broke. She nuzzled her face against his bare chest, desperate for some tangible confirmation that he was still there, safe and sound.
He lifted one hand to stroke her hair. “Shhh, it’s okay,” he said, his voice soft and low. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
She squeezed him tightly. “I’m never letting go,” she announced in a fierce, almost challenging tone.
“I wouldn’t let you if you tried,” he agreed, “but do you think we could do this lying down?” She could hear the smile in his voice, and it soothed her jangled nerves.
Somehow, she managed to climb into bed with him without once entirely losing contact. Her only concession to undressing was to kick off her shoes. The lights were still on, but she wasn’t going to let go of him long enough to turn them off. Besides, they were both too tired to care. She made sure he was comfortably settled. Then she snuggled into her favorite spot, her head on his chest, and let sleep claim her.
*****
Jimmy stepped off the elevator onto the bullpen landing. He didn’t know what had caused the Chief to call him in on a Friday night, but he hoped it was something good, especially since he’d left a very cooperative young co-ed sitting in his apartment—or rather, walking quickly out of his apartment. Oh, well. The news business was a 24/7 deal, and Jimmy wanted to show Perry White that he was serious about making it as a reporter.
Scanning the bullpen floor, he spotted Perry in the last place he’d expected—leaning over Cat Grant’s shoulder, both of them peering at her computer screen. The Chief was wearing a tuxedo—or rather what was left of one. The jacket was missing, the bow tie hung loose, the top button of the starched white shirt was undone, and the sleeves were rolled half-way up to Perry’s elbows. Meanwhile, Cat was wearing a relatively conservative—for Cat, anyway—evening gown. The two had obviously come straight from some black-tie event. Jimmy remembered vaguely that there were a couple of those coming up this weekend—one with Lex Luthor and one with Clark Kent?
Before he could figure it out, the Chief caught sight of him and waved him over with an impatient gesture. “Olsen! What took you so long?” Jimmy trotted over to Cat’s desk and opened his mouth to answer, but his boss cut him off. “Never mind. Just get on the Infonet database and find me Clark Kent’s marriage license.”
“Clark Kent is married?!” Jimmy was pretty sure he would have heard if the king of the playboys had tied the knot.
With exaggerated patience, Perry explained, “That’s what we’re trying to find out. Now get going. Check every state registry for the last 30 days. If that doesn’t work, look under Caleb Knight or Lois Lane. Now!”
“Lois?!” The look the Chief gave him silenced any further inquiry. With a resigned shake of his head, Jimmy headed for his desk.
An hour later, he was forced to admit defeat, at least on the marriage license front. He hoped the Chief would be pleased with the other stuff he’d come up with. It was always good to show initiative, right? He started back to Cat’s desk, where Perry had taken the guest chair. The editor held Cat’s phone to one ear, so Jimmy hung back, waiting for him to finish.
“You’re certain of that? There’s no possibility of his getting out on bail?” Perry asked into the phone. There was a brief pause, and then, “What about St. John? Somebody in his inner circle must have cut a deal.” A longer pause. “No kidding.” Perry smiled. “I’ll bet Luthor didn’t know that. That’s a good detail to put in—increases her human interest.” One more brief pause, and then Perry said, “No. I know Bill Henderson, and if he insists he’s not saying anything more tonight, then it’s best not to badger him. He’ll be more talkative tomorrow if we let him get some sleep tonight. You go on home and do the same, but meet us here first thing in the morning. Seven’s fine; I’ll send Jimmy for donuts.”
Perry hung up and turned first to Cat. “Here’s what we’ve got on the police front: They’ve charged Luthor with first degree murder, attempted murder, false imprisonment, assault with a deadly weapon, and resisting arrest. They’re holding him without bail. There’s no sign of his major-domo, Nigel St. John. Eduardo saw a woman at the station who fits the description of Luthor’s personal assistant, Mrs. Cox. I’d bet dollars to donuts that she’s looking to make a deal. The original ‘kidnapper’ turned out to be a hired thug, but he’d dead. Clark Kent is incommunicado. As you know, Lois took off with Kent, his security man, and his assistant, so nobody has talked to any of them. Lois said she was taking him home, but nobody knows where home is. There’s no answer at Lois’s apartment. That leaves Anita Eskin as the only eyewitness.” At this point an amused half-smile crossed Perry’s lips. “Here’s a funny coincidence that I’ll bet Luthor didn’t know when he told his man to nab her: She put herself through college on the GI bill--spent four years in the Military Police.”
Cat smiled in response. “I’ll bet she handled herself a lot better than Luthor expected. He thought he was grabbing another innocent hostage to bring Superman running, but he ended up with a cop in the room. It’s almost ironic.”
Jimmy was having a hard time following this conversation. Lex Luthor, Metropolis’s biggest benefactor, was under arrest for murder? Lois had taken Clark Kent home? And who the heck was Anita Eskin? Well, at least he had an inkling of what was going on between Lois and Clark Kent. Perry had given him the clues when he asked him to search for marriage licenses for Lois and Caleb as well as Clark Kent. He wondered now whether the information—or lack thereof—that he’d dug up on Caleb would be news to Perry or not.
“Well, Olsen? What have you got?”
Jimmy brought his thoughts back to the task at hand. “There’s no record of any marriage licenses for Clark Kent, Lois Lane, or Caleb Knight for the last six months. I checked every state, plus Canada. If any of them got married recently, they didn’t do it in this country.”
“Hmmm…so we have Lois’s word for it, plus confirmation from Kent’s staff, but no hard evidence.” The editor started to turn back to Cat, but Jimmy wasn’t finished yet.
“Also, I did some digging on Caleb Knight.” Perry turned back to Jimmy. Was he pleased, or just surprised? It was hard to tell. Jimmy hurried to fill the Chief in. “There are a few Caleb Knights in the infonet, but they’re all too young or too old to match Lois’s Caleb. There’s no record of any tax return, driver’s license, phone listing, property records, anything for a Caleb Knight that could remotely match our guy. As far as the infonet is concerned, our Caleb Knight doesn’t exist.”
“Thank you, Jimmy. I can’t say I’m surprised, but it’s good to have that confirmed. Good work.”
“So,” Cat put in, “What can we print for the morning edition? That Clark Kent has been in Metropolis for weeks disguised as a free-lance writer? That he’s married to Lois Lane, even though nobody can find any record of it? All we’ve got so far is unsubstantiated rumors.”
Perry checked his watch and frowned thoughtfully. “No. We say what everyone who was at the Lexor already knows: That Lois Lane claimed to be married to Clark Kent, and that she was convincing enough that the police let her prevent the EMTs from taking him to the hospital.”
“Wait. Clark Kent was injured? By Luthor?” Jimmy shut up when he caught sight of Perry’s impatient scowl.
Ignoring Jimmy’s questions, the Chief continued, “Right now we don’t have any proof that Caleb Knight is really Clark Kent, and most people wouldn’t care if we did. Caleb Knight is not newsworthy.”
“But Clark Kent being married is,” Cat countered.
“Yes, it is. And we’ve already got Lois’s claim to that effect. But we’ve got to stay focused on the main story here—Lex Luthor. What have we got that no other paper has?”
Cat smiled knowingly and answered, “Lois’s beeper number.”
Perry smiled back approvingly. “That’s right. We’ll let her see to her husband’s injuries tonight, but I want an eye-witness account from Clark Kent in tomorrow’s evening edition. And Lois Lane is going to get us to Clark Kent.”
*****
Clark woke up slowly. The sky outside was beginning to get light. Lois was snuggled up against him, her head nestled between his shoulder and his neck. As he moved to kiss her, he felt the rough texture of her jeans against his bare legs. It was a strange juxtaposition—Clark in only his underwear and his wife fully dressed under the covers. She stirred but didn’t wake, and he savored the feel of her presence. He was alive, and Lois was here with him.
He remembered his near-panic of the night before—his desperation to protect his secret, to shield the ones he loved from Superman’s public exposure. He’d been sure that the truth would come out when Clark Kent collapsed from the influence of Luthor’s glowing rock. He’d known he couldn’t keep himself from showing its effects. His only other option had been to find an alternative explanation so that no one would connect his illness to the rock, and therefore to Superman. And, irony of ironies, Luthor had given him just the cover he needed. In a split-second decision, Clark had managed to get himself between Luthor and Ms. Eskin just in time to take the bullet meant for her. If he’d been thinking more clearly at the time, he might have wondered whether he was still physically invulnerable despite how miserably sick he felt, but the thought had never entered his head. And, as it turned out, he hadn’t been. He remembered the awful sting of lead ripping through flesh, his fall to the floor, the sound of a struggle very close to him, then nothing else until he half-woke to hear Lois talking to him.
Lois…beautiful, brave, brilliant Lois. She’d saved him. Not physically, but she’d kept him out of the hospital and protected his privacy, their privacy. Without her, his secret surely would have been exposed. Overcome by a wave of sheer gratitude, he squeezed her tight and whispered fiercely, “God, woman, I love you!”
This time she woke up enough to squeeze him back. “Oh, Clark! I was so frightened! If I’d lost you…”
“Shhh. It’s okay. I’m okay, thanks to you.”
“More like thanks to some super healing abilities we didn’t know about,” she said, still holding him as if she were afraid to let go.
He smiled and pulled back enough to see her face. “Okay,” he agreed, dropping a kiss onto her forehead, “but it’s thanks to you that I’m home in my own bed and not answering a lot of very awkward questions in a hospital.”
She smiled back. She still seemed a little fragile, but Clark had no doubt she would regain her usual confidence quickly. “Well, to be honest,” she said, “it was Pete’s idea to bring you home, but I’ll take credit for convincing them to let us do it. Those EMTs really wanted to get you to a trauma center.” Her eyes dropped to the spot under his collarbone where the bullet had struck. Even the little circle of pink skin was gone. Tenderly she ran a hand over the spot. “I still can’t quite believe it,” she said. Looking up at him again, she asked, “How do you feel?”
“I feel perfectly healthy.” He paused for a moment, concentrating. “Still no super senses,” he reported. “But mostly what I feel is…hungry, which is kind of strange because I usually don’t really need food.”
“Well, your body must have used a lot of energy making all those repairs. Let’s get you something to eat.” Lois got quickly to her feet and started pulling him along after her.
“Okay, but I seem to remember that Pete and Lana are still here. Don’t you think I should get dressed first?” Clark teased.
“All right, if you insist,” Lois said with a mock pout.
Clark resisted the urge to accost Lois while she showered. They were supposed to be honeymooners, but he really was very hungry, and they had houseguests. For the umpteenth time in the last week, he thought how happy he would be to get away for a real honeymoon. He smiled when he remembered that today was Saturday—they’d be leaving tomorrow.
When both of them were clean and dressed, Lois made the bed while Clark opened the window shades. It was a routine he’d learned from his mother. She called it ‘opening the house.’ As he pulled up the shade on the south-facing window, a stream of sunlight flooded the room. The winter sun was low in the sky, and its rays fell directly on his face. It felt wonderful. He was still standing there with his eyes closed, just soaking it in, when Lois prodded him to come down to breakfast.
***
As Lois and Clark stepped into the kitchen, Lana looked up from the morning paper. “Good morning,” she greeted them cheerfully. “I made coffee. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Lois reassured her.
“Still feeling okay?” Lana asked Clark.
“Perfectly healthy, just not super,” he answered.
Lois still couldn’t tell how he felt about the loss of his powers. She hoped that they would come back as his body continued to heal, but she couldn’t be sure. She didn’t prod him to discuss it. There would be time for that later when they didn’t have company.
Meanwhile, Clark got busy making breakfast. Even without his superpowers, he moved about the kitchen quickly. Lois made herself useful setting the table and pouring orange juice. Pete appeared just in time, and the four friends sat down to a heaping platter of eggs and bacon with toast and jam on the side.
“I talked to your folks earlier,” Lana told Clark as they ate. Lois was surprised, given that the time was an hour earlier in Smallville, but she quickly remembered that Martha and Jonathan were farmers, and therefore early risers. “I told them that you were healthy, which of course they already assumed, and that you were home safe and sound. I didn’t go into any detail about the shooting—I wasn’t sure how much you wanted them to know. I didn’t want to worry them about that rock without talking to you first.”
“Especially since, by the time Ms. Eskin told the police about the rock, it had disappeared,” put in Pete.
“What rock?” Lois asked.
“Here.” Lana handed Lois the front page section of the Planet. “You can read it for yourself.”
Lois skimmed the article, slowing down for the parts she didn’t already know about. Someone at the Planet had talked to Anita Eskin, and she’d been a good source. Lois had been so focused on Clark’s health that she hadn’t given much thought to the other events of the night before. Now, for the first time, she found out why Luthor had orchestrated the kidnapping, what had caused Clark to lose his powers, and how exactly he had been shot.
“Clark!” She looked at him in horror. “Is this really true? Could that rock have killed you?”
He gave her a rueful shrug. “I don’t know. Luthor seemed pretty confident that it could, but I don’t know how he could be certain. I sure felt pretty awful. I guess if it had been bigger or closer, or if I’d been exposed long enough, it might have killed me. That’s why I needed to get shot.”
“You what?! You did that on purpose?! What kind of a lunkheaded move was that?”
“It was all I could think of,” he defended himself. “I couldn’t let Luthor or anyone else see that the rock was making me sick. This way, they all think it’s the bullet that did it. Besides, it turned out well; Ms. Eskin got the gun away from Luthor and let the police in.”
“Lucky for us, but you couldn’t have known that it would work out that way. You could have been killed!”
For a moment, Clark looked as if he were about to argue the merits of his decision, but his face quickly softened and he scooted closer to Lois and pulled her into a sideways hug. “I know, honey,” he soothed, “I know. But I wasn’t. I’m right here, I’m healthy, and I’m not going anywhere.” Only the awareness of Pete and Lana sitting across the table from them kept Lois from collapsing in an emotional heap as the protective barrier of her crisis mode eroded.
Lois and Clark hugged quietly for at least a minute while the Rosses ate in silence, pretending great interest in the sports section. Finally, Lois drew back and took a deep breath. “I’m okay,” she reassured everyone. She was searching for something to say in order to move past the awkward moment, but Clark saved her the necessity.
“Lois?” He had his head cocked in his listening pose. He turned around to look through the open door into the living room. “I think your purse is beeping.”
Lois couldn’t hear anything. She did have her beeper in her purse, which she’d left on her desk in the living room. “You can hear my beeper from here?” she asked Clark.
“It’s faint, but yeah.” Then, “It stopped.” A hopeful look passed between the four friends. No one wanted to be the first to say it out loud, but it looked as if Clark’s powers might return after all.
Shaking her head to bring her thoughts back to the present, Lois excused herself and went to check the beeper. Sure enough, the City Room phone number was blinking in the display window. Resuming her place at the table, Lois confirmed, “You were right; it was my beeper. Perry’s trying to get a hold of me. What am I going to tell him?”
Lana opened her mouth to speak, but Clark started first. “*We* are going to tell him the truth,” he said. Then, before anyone could make an objection, he clarified, “The truth about Caleb Knight and Clark Kent, that is. After all, Superman wasn’t even around last night.”
“Are you sure you’re up to an interview?” Lois asked.
“Sure. Why not? I feel perfectly fine. And, now that you mention it, I had an appointment for an interview with Cat Grant today. Besides, I still plan on showing up at the Book Awards tonight.” Lois had completely forgotten about that.
“Clark,” Lana put in, “You were shot last night. How are you going to explain your remarkable recovery?”
“With the truth—the bullet went through, miraculously missing any vital organs, and, thanks to the great care I got, I’m feeling much better now.”
At first it looked as if Lana would object, but she caught sight of Clark’s determined look and settled for, “Will you at least keep up the fiction of the personal physician?”
“All right,” Clark conceded. “That and a bandage peeking out from under my shirt collar should keep anyone from questioning any further.” With a cheeky grin, he added, “I’ll even move a little stiffly if that will make you feel better.”
“It will,” she agreed.
“Well?” Clark turned to Lois. “Do you need to call Mr. White back?”
A smile slowly blossomed and Lois replied, “No need. Let’s go down to the newsroom and surprise him.”
*****
Perry hung up his phone and headed for Cat’s desk. “I just talked to Eduardo,” he told her. “Mrs. Cox just showed up at the police station with a man who looks an awful lot like a lawyer. I’d say she’s cut herself a deal.” He checked his watch and frowned. “Still no answer from Lois. I paged her half an hour ago.”
“Well, I just hung up with Lana Ross, Mr. Kent’s assistant and PR rep,” Cat reported.
“How did you find her?” Perry interrupted. “Did you manage to track down Kent as well?”
She shook her head. “No such luck. I called Kent Enterprises in Smallville, Kansas, and left a message on their answering machine. She must have called in for her messages, because she just called me back. She wouldn’t comment on the marriage question, but she did say that Mr. Kent’s injuries are not as serious as we all thought, and that he is planning to attend the American Book Award ceremonies tonight. Apparently his personal physician has given him the go-ahead.”
Just then Perry noticed that the room, which had been humming with the normal Saturday morning activity, grew suddenly quiet. He looked up to see Lois making her way down the ramp from the elevator, arm in arm with Clark Kent. Or Caleb Knight. Or a strange hybrid of the two men. His clothes and posture were Caleb’s--khaki pants and a blue-and white striped oxford, with an easy lope. The glasses were Kent’s, as was the hair cut that Kent had been newly sporting at Luthor’s dinner. As the man got closer, Perry could see the edge of a bandage peeking out from the loose collar of his shirt. Now that he knew, the similarities were obvious. He could hardly believe that he hadn’t seen it before.
Ignoring the openly curious stares of her colleagues, Lois walked straight to Perry and said cheerfully, “You rang?”
Before answering her, Perry gave a well-practiced growl to the newsroom in general. “What are you all staring at? Haven’t you ever seen a pair of newlyweds before?” The hum of conversation returned to its normal volume and Perry turned back to Lois and Caleb…Kent…whatever his name was. “I’m glad to see you…both,” he added with a significant look at Lois’s young husband. “How are you feeling, son?”
The young man gave him a sheepish smile. “A lot better than I did last night. It sure felt like I was dying at the time, but apparently there’s no lasting damage. I’ve still got some healing to do, but I expect to make a full recovery.”
“And to be at the Book Awards tonight, according to Ms. Ross,” Cat put in. “Can I assume that Lois will be with you this time?”
“Absolutely.” He draped his good arm around his bride’s shoulder with a proud smile. “This time and every other time from now on.” Then, turning back to Perry, he said in a more serious tone, “I’m guessing you’ve got a few questions for me. And I do owe Ms. Grant an interview.”
Perry smiled. “You’re right on both counts, Mr. Kent. Let’s all step into the small conference room.”
“Clark,” the younger man corrected, holding out his right hand.
“Clark it is. It’s good to know you,” Perry answered, shaking the proffered hand warmly.
Soon the four of them were seated around the small table. Cat started a pot of coffee on the conference room’s sideboard. Jimmy poked his head in with the excuse of bringing them the last of the donuts. Perry kept the donuts but shooed Jimmy out. When they were finally settled, Perry began. “Well, you two are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He smiled affectionately at Lois.
“Yeah, well, he kind of surprised me, too, Chief,” she answered with a teasing look at her husband.
This caught Cat’s attention. “You mean that you didn’t know he was Clark Kent when you met? You met him undercover?” This would make a juicy story.
“Well, kind of. I did meet him as Clark first. Remember, Chief? You were after me to get an interview from Clark Kent when we were both at Luthor’s White Orchid Ball.”
“I remember. I also remember that, even though you spent an entire evening with the elusive Mr. Kent, you insisted that you weren’t able to get a publishable story out of it.”
“Ooh,” purred Cat. “Does that mean that something unpublishable went on between you two that night?” Her eyebrows wiggled suggestively.
“No.” Lois’s tone suggested that Cat should drag her mind out of the gutter. “Actually, I didn’t see Clark Kent after that night—well, except for the time he ditched me at a book signing, but I’m getting ahead of the story…”
“That was after she knew me as Caleb Knight and I didn’t want her to recognize me yet,” Clark explained.
“Hey, I just remembered,” Perry put in, “you told us you two met at a Clark Kent book signing.”
“Sorry.” Clark was blushing furiously. “I didn’t know you very well then, and I needed a cover story.”
“Anyway,” Lois continued, “Clark was in Metropolis on his book tour, but he was also working undercover as Caleb Knight. We actually met when we were both covering the same story and we kind of bumped into each other.”
“So Clark Kent left town after his book tour, but Caleb Knight stayed to pursue that story that you wouldn’t tell me about,” Perry summed up.
“Actually…” Clark began, but Cat spoke at the same time and he let her go first.
“Let me get this straight. Lois met Caleb Knight and didn’t recognize him as Clark Kent?”
“So did both of you,” Lois pointed out.
“Well, I suppose he is famous for his talents of disguise,” Cat conceded. “But it’s still pretty funny.”
“You print that and I’ll wring your neck,” Lois started.
“Calm down, Lois. Your secret’s safe with me.” Cat was still smiling.
“In her defense, Lois did figure out who I was pretty quickly,” Clark informed her.
“Figured it out? You didn’t tell her?” Cat was clearly intrigued.
“She beat me to it.” Clark shrugged. “What can I say? My wife is a lot smarter than I am.” Perry wasn’t sure that was true, but it was probably a good thing that Clark thought so—just as long as Lois didn’t really think so, too.
“So,” Cat went on, apparently taking the opportunity to get the interview she’d been promised. “I’m assuming that your marriage is the ‘delicate announcement’ that Ms. Ross told me about.”
“Yes. I’m sorry the events of last night got ahead of us. We really wanted to give you the exclusive, but I’m afraid it’s common knowledge by now.”
Cat shrugged. “Yes and no. Everyone knows by now that Lois claimed to be your wife and that Henderson let her override the EMTs and take you home, but I’ll still be the only one with confirmation from you. By the way, we couldn’t find a marriage license in the national database. Where and when did you two get married?”
As if in answer, Lois reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “This is a copy,” she said, handing the paper to Cat. “We thought you might like to see it.”
Perry watched Cat’s eyebrows rise as she read the marriage certificate. “Honduras?” she said with that same amused smile.
“I have a pastor friend there,” Clark explained. “I met him when I was researching one of my books. So when Lois said ‘yes,’ it just seemed natural to fly down there.” And Clark Kent could afford to fly anywhere in the world on a moment’s notice, Perry realized. He might even have a private plane for all Perry knew.
“So, Lois,” Cat asked, “Where else has your wealthy husband flown you to? I imagine you’ve had some very romantic dates.”
Perry watched Lois for her reaction. Would she bristle at what she must consider a puff-piece question? It looked to him like Lois was having her own internal debate about how to answer.
After a moment, Lois said, in a too-sweet voice, “Now, Ms. Grant, you can’t expect me to divulge all our little secrets. Let’s just say that I’ll never look at Florence in quite the same way again.” Then, in her normal tone, she said, “Seriously, though, Cat. I didn’t fall in love with Clark Kent the famous writer. I fell in love with Caleb Knight, the man. The fact that he had another name…”
“…and a fortune,” Cat added.
“…and a fortune,” Lois conceded, “is not what attracted me to him. You don’t know him like I do.” She gave her husband a tender look. “Clark is something special, and it has nothing to do with his money, or his fame. That’s all on the outside, like a suit of clothes. It has to do with who he is underneath all of that. I was very lucky that I got to know the real man first.”
Cat directed her next question to Clark. “And what about you, Mr. Kent? You usually have a new woman on your arm at every appearance. What made you suddenly want to settle down?”
“Lois, of course.” His smile and his amused tone said that the answer should be obvious.
“Of course.” Cat gave him a smile in return. They were two pros at the celebrity interview game, and Cat clearly enjoyed the repartee. “But could you elaborate? Just to humor me?”
Clark gave a little shrug. “You know how the game works. There’s an event coming up, you’re expected to have a date, so you ask someone—someone you know or someone you’d like to know. You know and she knows that it’s just a casual thing, someone to spend the evening with, nothing more. You have fun, you say goodnight, and that’s that. No expectations, no commitments, it’s all on the surface. You both know the ground rules, so there’s no hurt feelings. No big deal.” He paused and looked at his wife, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Now Lois, on the other hand…well, there’s no such thing as ‘no big deal’ when Lois Lane is involved. She had no idea who I really was, so she didn’t know those ground rules. She pushed, she prodded, she asked questions…in other words, she treated me like a person, not like a celebrity. It was a little scary at first, but I was fascinated. By the time I knew she’d figured out my real name, it was too late. We were way past the surface, and the rest is history.”
It looked like Cat had her story, so now it was Perry’s turn. “So you stayed in Metropolis on an undercover story, and you ended up helping Lois out on some of her investigations. I guess I understand now why you wouldn’t let me make out a paycheck to Caleb Knight. But maybe Clark Kent wouldn’t mind an occasional byline? You two really do make a terrific writing team.”
“I’ll give it some serious thought. I certainly enjoy working with Lois. I’d never seriously considered reporting full time. Fiction is my strong suit, and I think I’ve got a few novels left in me yet, but somehow I think Lois is going to keep sucking me into her investigations. I guess I might as well get some credit for it.” His teasing smile told them all that he didn’t really mind getting sucked in to Lois’s work life.
“Lane and Kent…” Lois mused aloud, “I guess it does have a certain ring to it.”
“I thought you were already doing some reporting of your own,” Perry said. “Or was that all part of your cover story?”
“Yes and no,” Clark answered. “I didn’t really stay here because of a story.” He smiled again. “Truth be told, I stayed because I met Lois. But we really have been working together to try to get proof of Lex Luthor’s underworld dealings.”
Perry could feel his own eyebrows shoot up at this news. “That was the undercover story that you wouldn’t tell me about? I mean, you told me early on that you suspected him of being involved in the Menken case, but I didn’t think that made him a major criminal. Why didn’t you say something?”
“Would you have believed me if I had? A no-name free-lance reporter claiming that Metropolis’s favorite son was really a criminal mastermind? I had no proof. So I just kept digging around and hoped that he’d slip up.”
“Which he did big time last night,” Lois said with a very satisfied tone.
“Yes.” Clark sobered. “I’m just sorry that it cost another life before he finally gave himself away.”
“Another? You mean that there have been others? What exactly are you accusing Luthor of?”
Clark reached for Lois’s bag again and pulled out a thick folder. “Actually, I was hoping that you could tell us who we should give these to. Do you have a reliable police contact? I wouldn’t put it past Luthor to have bribed half the MPD.”
Perry took the file and began leafing through it. “Gunrunning? Drug dealing? Prostitution? This sounds like a regular crime syndicate.” Then, after another couple of pages, “The Messenger explosion? The riverfront fires?” Perry looked up at Lois and Clark. “Is there anything this man doesn’t have a hand in?”
“Not much that we can figure out, but we can’t prove any of it,” Lois said. “We’re hoping that, now that he’s been arrested, people will start talking. I saw Bill Henderson at the scene last night. If he’s heading the investigation, this stuff might help him know what questions to ask. Someone in Luthor’s inner circle might be willing to make a deal. Maybe Nigel St. John.”
Perry shook his head. “St. John’s disappeared. But it looks like Mrs. Cox, Luthor’s assistant, is talking. She’s been seen at the police station last night and this morning.”
Lois nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to Henderson today.” She glanced at her watch. “If he cooperates, we’ll have time to get at least one story out under the Lane and Kent byline before we go.”
“It will have to be Lane, Friaz, and Kent this time, Lois. Eduardo’s been covering this since last night. He’s down at the precinct right now.”
Lois stuffed the papers back into her bag and stood up. “Well? What are we waiting for? Let’s get down there.” She pulled Clark after her, and he followed willingly, if slightly bemused.
Perry watched them go. Then he turned to Cat with a smile. “That boy has no idea what he’s got himself into, does he?”
“Don’t worry, Chief,” she answered. “If anyone can hold his own with Lois Lane, it’s Caleb Knight.”
“You mean Clark Kent,” Perry corrected her.
She gave a jaunty shrug of an almost-bare shoulder. “Yeah, him too.”
*****
Lois sat cross-legged on the living room sofa, peering at her laptop screen. She wore a comfortable terry-cloth robe, which looked a little funny considering that her hair and makeup were already done for the awards dinner. Clark supposed that this must be a normal thing for women—after all, they must not wear their evening gowns to the hair salon—but he felt somehow privileged to see her this way.
She looked up as he set a fresh cup of coffee on the table. “Thanks.” She checked her watch. “I’m almost done. Come see what you think.”
He leaned over the back of the sofa and put one hand on her shoulder as he read. “Murder, conspiracy, wire fraud, RICO. Nice. That alone tells me that they’ve got Luthor for more than just what he did last night.”
“Yep. Henderson won’t give out too many details because he doesn’t want to give Luthor’s defense team any warning as to what’s coming, but if they’re charging him under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations act, then they’ve got to have some evidence of organized crime. It looks like Mrs. Cox came through.” She looked up with a proud grin. “And Henderson’s promised us first dibs on the details once they go to trial.”
“C-K,” he told her.
“What?”
He pointed to the screen. “Racketeer. It’s spelled with a C-K, not a Q-U.”
“That’s what editors are for, Clark.” She slapped his arm to make him move it away from the computer screen.
“Hey, you asked me to check it.” He came around to sit next to her.
“For content, not for spelling,” she corrected.
“Okay, next time I’ll know better.” He smiled, completely unrepentant.
She rolled her eyes at him. “Anyway, all I need now is a quote from Superman.”
“Superman? Why? He wasn’t even there last night.”
“Exactly. Luthor set this whole kidnapping plot up in order to lure Superman to his death, and Superman never showed. What does that imply? That he knew about the green rock and decided to stay away for his own safety? That would confirm Luthor’s poisonous rock theory as well as making Superman look like a coward. We need to come up with another explanation for his absence.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right.” Clark was quiet for a couple of minutes, then he said, “How about this?” He sat up straight and let his voice drop into Superman’s lower register. “I deeply regret not being able to help in this situation. I realized some time ago that I can't be there every time someone needs my help. That is my burden. Some of the things I do or help with do not get publicized. This was an instance where I was otherwise occupied and unable to respond."
Lois played along, stepping into reporter mode herself. “Does this mean that you don’t believe Luthor’s theory about that rock being able to hurt you? You weren’t just staying away to save yourself?”
“Ms. Lane,” Superman responded, “Until the incidents of last night, I had never even heard of such a rock. So you can understand that I could have had no reason to assume that it could hurt me. I’ve certainly never encountered anything else that could. Now, I’m not saying that it is impossible, but if I were you, I would consider the source. Regrettably, Mr. Luthor has shown himself to be unscrupulous, and I wouldn’t consider him a reliable witness.” Clark dropped the Superman persona and asked, “What do you think? Will that work?”
“I think it’s a good as we’re going to get without an outright lie.”
“Don’t let that stop you, Lois. I will lie if I have to, to protect you.”
“No. I don’t think that’s necessary. This will do.” She glanced at her watch again. “Give me ten minutes to add the Superman quotes and get this off to Perry, then I’d better get dressed.” She smiled warmly at him. “You’ve got a big night ahead, you know.”
He leaned in and kissed her. “I’m so glad you’ll be there with me. I hated going without you last night.”
“Well, you’ll never have to go anywhere without me again.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Somehow I think your work may occasionally interfere with my publicity rounds, but at least I’ll be able to be honest about why I’m out alone when I have to be.” He smiled in eager anticipation. “I can’t wait to show you off tonight.”
She rolled her eyes again. “Yes, I’ll be sure to hang on your arm decoratively and fade into the background like the perfect date.”
“You’d better not. I want you front and center, right where you belong. From now on, anyone who thinks of Clark Kent better have ‘and Lois Lane’ in the same thought.”
She gave him a genuine smile. “I’m sure they will, once we win our first joint Kerth Award. But seriously, this is your night, and you’ve earned it.”
“Well, in any case, it’s a night I want to share with my beautiful wife.”
“And so you shall, Mr. Kent, but not if you don’t go away and let me finish this article so I can get dressed.” She gave him a playful shove and he left her in peace.
***
Thirty minutes later Clark, dressed in a new tuxedo—the old one having been shredded by Luthor’s bullet and the EMTs—finished zipping Lois’s burgundy dress up the back and gazed at their joint reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You are so beautiful,” he told her softly. Then, giving her reflection a critical once-over, he said, “Something’s missing, though.” He bent down to kiss the juncture of her shoulder and neck. “Don’t move.”
He ducked into the bedroom, and Lois heard the sound of his nightstand drawer opening and closing. In less than a minute he was back, a long black velvet box in one hand. She turned to face him, and he handed it to her. She opened the case to find a glimmering necklace, brilliant diamonds interspersed with deep blue sapphires. There was a matching pair of earrings.
“Clark! You didn’t have to…”
“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. I like buying you gifts. Besides, they match your ring.” He looked a little uncertain. “You don’t have to wear them if you don’t like them. Maybe you had something else planned.”
She hastened to reassure him. “They’re beautiful, Clark. I’d love to wear them.”
“Well, you know I think you’re beautiful in blue jeans and a t-shirt, but I thought these might be fun, since you’re dressing up anyway.” He reached for the box. “May I?”
She nodded and turned around again so he could fasten the necklace behind her neck. Then he handed the box back to her and she put the earrings in. Once more their eyes met in the mirror. “I am the luckiest man in the world,” he told her.
***
Snow was falling as the town car pulled up in front of the Mayflower Hotel. “You ready?” he asked, giving Lois’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, giving him a brave smile.
Clark waited for the driver to open the door for him, and then he stepped out onto the red carpet and reached back to help Lois out. She took his hand and gracefully stood to join him. The lightening storm of flashbulbs was immediate, as was the shower of shouted questions. Ignoring them all, Clark put a supportive arm around Lois’s waist. He smiled down at her, and was glad to see her smiling up at him in response. She really was something, but then he’d known that all along. When they were almost at the front door, they shocked the assembled press by turning around to face them. The cacophony of voices grew even louder until Clark held one hand up to call for silence. When he had all of their attention, he spoke clearly.
“Good evening. I’m not going to take any questions tonight, but I will make a brief statement.” He waited for the clicking of cameras to die down before he went on. “First, I will confirm, as you have no doubt read by now, that Lex Luthor was indeed the instigator of my brief kidnapping last night, and that it was he who killed his co-conspirator, and who fired the shot that wounded me. I owe my life to the brave actions of my fellow hostage, Ms. Anita Eskin, who disarmed Mr. Luthor, thus rescuing us both.” There was a wave of murmured comments and Clark waited for silence to return. “Second, I am happy to report that my injuries were not as serious as they first appeared, and I expect to make a full recovery.” He held his hand up for silence again. “Finally, I believe that most of you know this beautiful woman at my side, and I am delighted to say that Lois and I were married earlier this week.”
Clark having finished his statement, he turned to lead Lois into the hotel. The shouted questions grew even louder, most of them now directed at Lois. Just as the door opened fully to admit them to the hotel, she turned around and faced her colleagues. Silence descended once more as they all looked hopefully at her.
“You heard the man,” she told them saucily. “If you want to know anything more, you’ll have to pick up tomorrow’s paper. You can read all about it in the Daily Planet.” And with that parting remark, she walked proudly into the lobby, her husband chuckling at her side.
