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Nightfall Honeymoon TOC

From Part 7...

Lois didn’t want to think about how it felt when Clark’s hands caressed her body. Or how he cupped her chin in his palm when he gazed at her or wanted to kiss her. Or how he had set his hand at the curve of her back whenever they walked into or out of a room. Any room. Any time. She had always been assured to feel that gentle touch. Her eyes slowly blinked. Or how muscular his body had been, but how he had never hurt her physically. How firm and steady and graceful he had been… well, unless she had done something to surprise him. Or how Clark’s lips had curved up just so when he smiled at her, unsure, almost sheepishly, when he had said or done something he knew he shouldn’t have.

Or how he had brushed her lips with his thumb when he wanted to kiss her, but also hadn’t wanted to stop looking at her. Or how it had felt when she finally had kissed him, like her toes curled and she was floating on air. Or how when he…

The jingling of the telephone knocked her out of her reverie. Her head turned and stared at the phone.

Answer it, Lois! What if it’s Clark?

Two seconds later, the phone was gripped in her hand, “Clark?”

Part 8

Thursday – Mid-Morning

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. “Sorry, Ms. Lane, Detective Henderson here.”

Lois’s heart slammed back onto the ground. “What do you want?” she snapped.

Wow! Testy much? Maybe he has news on Clark.

Lois snarled at her inner voice. She wasn’t interested in niceties.

“Do you know the name Charlie King?” he asked.

“No,” Lois said tersely. “Look, Henderson, this is really a bad…”

“Where’s Clark?” he asked, cutting her off.

Lois choked back a sob. “Missing. We got separated when he went to go searching for Superman yesterday morning and…”

“And you haven’t heard from Superman? Today?”

“Not since Clark went to…”

“And you don’t know a Charlie King?” he asked again.

“No! Should I?” her angry voice shook like thunder.

“A man who called himself Charlie King phoned me this morning because he couldn’t reach you,” Henderson explained.

“Probably another sicko fan,” Lois shook her head.

“He told me to tell you…” the policeman paused.

“What?!”

“That Superman is fine,” he answered softly.

Lois gasped as a chill drizzled down her entire body before she stiffened. “No, he’s not.”

“No?”

“If he was ‘fine,’ he would have tried to contact me or Clark…” her voice trailed off. “He’s Clark’s best…” She had no more energy to lie.

“If I see Clark, I’ll let him know you’re worried,” Henderson told her.

Lois sighed. “No offense, Detective, but if you see Clark before I do, it will be because you found his body.”

***

Her phone rang again. Lois didn’t want to answer it, but her inner voice told her again, ‘it might be Clark.’

“Hi, Darlin’. Want to tell me why you aren’t at your desk? Are you working on a hot lead from home?” Perry’s voice asked in the phone.

Oh, God. Your boss. You don’t want to talk to him.

“Clark’s still missing,” she finally squeaked out.

“What?! He hasn’t made it home yet?” Perry seemed surprised. But, then again, the Chief had known about Clark’s invulnerability longer than she had.

“No.” Lois lacked the energy to say more.

“You want me to send Jimmy over there? You two could search for him together. It isn’t like Clark to disappear like that,” Perry told her, but he seemed distracted. She could hear another voice in the background.

“Perry, you and I both know, there isn’t anything to find.” She sighed.

“What’s this?” Her boss was obviously talking to that other person in his office. “Jimmy thinks I’m your assistant and has given me your messages.”

Lois groaned. She didn’t want her messages. She wanted to go back to thinking about Clark.

“Nunk… Jimmy, you don’t have to take messages from snake oil salesmen…” Lois could hear Perry crinkling up that message. “Charlie King? No number… Henderson. Hey, Lois, that’s the detective from the Lex Luthor case, isn’t it? You should definitely call him back. See if there’s a follow-up…”

“My. Husband. Is. Missing. And. Probably. Dead!” Lois growled. “You and the Daily Planet can just wait until I process that.”

“Clark’s not dead, honey,” her boss reassured her. “You’ve got to have some faith in him. Lots of people went missing during the Nightfall confusion. Hell, LexComm isn’t one hundred percent yet. It’s still a mess out there, which is why I need all hands on deck. If I know Clark, and I do, he’s working his way back to you. Give him some time and…”

“He was exploded by a nuclear bomb!” she screamed. “The man I love is dead! He’s not coming back! He’s not working his way back to me! Let me grieve!”

Lois slammed the phone back in its base and slunk down to the floor in a pool of tears.

***

Thursday – Mid-Morning

Superman set down the latest issue of Earth News with him on the cover. This one showed four very frozen looking men with flamethrowers. Frosty End to The Toasters: Superman Cleans up Crime in Metropolis. He had been worried at first that he had killed those men, but the article claimed they got nothing worse than a mild case of frostbite.

His eyes gravitated back to the photos gracing the cover of Dirt Digger Weekly. Half the frame showed him flying with Lois in his arms, her head resting against his chest. A very tender photo. The other half of the cover showed her in a baseball hat and ridiculously huge sunglasses. Her hand was raised to block the photographer from taking her photo, her other hand gripping the arm of a brown-haired man in the dark suit and glasses. The headline above both photos read: The Two Lives of Lois Lane.

Seeing that cover seemed to squash the little hope he had. Lois Lane obviously was with that other man now. Photos did not lie. Since arriving at this newsstand he had seen photo after photo of himself with Lois Lane. She was beautiful. Stunning, really. He had actually been excited about meeting her.

And then the newsstand owner had unpacked a couple of bundles of new tabloids. There was this one and then the National Inquisitor screamed: Lois Dumped Superman for Him? And it showed a photo of Superman side by side another photo of that other man. Neither photo had been very good. Clark Kent, Superman soon discovered, was the man’s name. Her writing partner.

Superman’s heart actually hurt at the thought of this woman’s love slipping through his fingers. Maybe it hadn’t been the asteroid that had taken away his memories. Maybe it had been Lois’s betrayal. He looked at her picture and at once he felt like flying to the heavens while also hurtling himself off the nearest building. Like that would do any good, he scoffed. Sometimes it sucked being unbreakable.

He loved Lois Lane. He knew he did. His heart did a tap dance when he first saw her picture. How thrilled he had been that this woman – with doe eyes and a haunting smile – had chosen him instead of a man from her home planet. How naïve!

A tall, thin man with salt and pepper hair, wearing an ill-fitting blue business suit, approached the newsstand. “Hi, Mike.”

“Hi, Bill,” replied the man who worked the booth.

“Did you save me a Daily Planet?” Bill asked.

“Good thing, I did. They’ve been flying off the shelf with Lois Lane’s article that Superman’s still around. People are excited about that,” Mike replied, handing the paper to Bill.

Superman scoffed out loud. Back. Ha!

Both men glanced over at him, but then returned to their conversation.

“I see they’ve realized the error of their ways and promoted you again,” said Mike.

“Thanks, Mike, for always believing they would,” Bill replied, tapping him lightly with the folded newspaper. Then he nodded towards Superman, who had opened another magazine. And Bill lowered his voice – as if that would stop Superman from overhearing them. “He giving you any trouble?”

“Nah. I think he’s waiting for someone. He’s been reading anything and everything to do with Superman,” Mike told him.

“How long has he been here?” Bill asked.

“Over an hour. But he keeps to himself. Doesn’t bother the other customers. And they…” Mike sighed. “A few of them tried speaking with him, but he just nods a greeting and returns his attention to whatever he’s reading.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He seems upset about something, so the other customers have mostly been giving him a wide berth.”

Gee, discovering that the love of his life dumped him for some bespectacled newsman upset him? Imagine that. Superman shook his head in disgust.

“Thanks again for the paper, Mike,” Bill replied and started to walk away.

Superman was happy that Bill had decided to leave. He would rather wallow alone.

“Hi, Superman,” Bill said casually, suddenly by his side.

Great. Another one. Why wouldn’t they just leave him alone? Superman acknowledged him with a nod and returned to the magazine in his hand, ignoring the man.

There wasn’t really anything new in that one. As he put back on the rack, his eyes drifted back to the Dirty Digger Weekly tabloid he had propped up in front of him. He closed his eyes to block the pain that overwhelmed him whenever he looked at that photo of Lois with that other man.

“You know you can’t always believe what you read, don’t you, Superman?” Bill said gently, still by his side. “Tabloids are notorious for their lies.”

A glimmer of hope sparked in Superman’s chest but then died again. “Photos don’t lie.”

Oh, God! Had he said that out loud? He stepped away from the man… from Bill and from that photo of Clark Kent.

“She didn’t dump you, Superman,” Bill said quietly.

What?! Superman turned to face the man next to him, his heart making up for all the beats it lost since he saw that photo. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a lie, because Lois Lane never dated Superman,” Bill explained. “She’s been dating Clark since before you showed up.”

“She has?” he sputtered. Then why the photos? Why did he feel this way about her?

“And you’d never try to steal your best friend’s girl? Now, would you, Superman?” Bill prodded.

Superman stared at Bill. Clark Kent was his best friend? He had fallen in love with his best friend’s girlfriend? And this man knew about it? “I… I have no idea what you’re talking about…” he stammered. No, of course he wouldn’t try to steal away Clark Kent’s girl. No matter how tempting the idea was.

The man – Bill – reached inside his jacket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open. Only it wasn’t a wallet; it was an ID badge. “Detective Henderson,” Bill said, introducing himself. “Are you Charlie?”

***

Thursday – Early Afternoon

The phone rang. Lois didn’t know how long it had been since she had hung up on Perry. It could have been five minutes. It could have been two hours. Or a day. Her body felt numb.

Come on, honey. Third time’s a charm, coaxed her inner voice, who strangely enough still had hope left for Clark.

Lois herself could not move. “He’s dead,” she whispered. What was the point of answering the phone? More torture? More torment from good-natured friends? No thank you.

She felt that floating sensation through her body again, tingling down her arms and legs. Suddenly the phone was in her hand; she didn’t recall picking it up. “Hello?” Lois said, although she didn’t think she had actually spoken.

“Hey, Lane, Detective Henderson again…”

“I’m sorry, Lois Lane is comatose right now, please leave a message and I’ll try to pound it through her thick skull until she hears it. Beep.”

Lois knew she hadn’t said those words. It sounded like her voice, but it didn’t sound like her. She was deep inside her mind lingering, listening to this dream, wondering why she was saying these strange things.

Henderson didn’t reply right away. “Okay.”

“Do you have any news on Clark?” she heard herself ask the Detective. Detective? When had Henderson been promoted from street cop?

“No… No…” Henderson answered slowly. “But I found Charlie King.”

“Big deal. Another sicko behind bars, just to be released to torment me another day,” the person with her voice replied.

Henderson ignored her statement as he continued, “Charlie wants to help you find Clark…”

“Unless he can fly…” her voice interrupted.

“Funny that you should say that, Lane. Charlie’s dressed as Superman.”

Lois gasped like a drowning victim after getting mouth-to-mouth. A little bile came up from her stomach as the air reached her lungs. She coughed a couple of times as she continued to gasp for air. And then she spoke; this time she knew she was in control, though her voice was hoarse, “You have Superman down at your office?”

“Looking right at him. Just needs verification of his identity to be released,” Henderson explained.

“Do. Not. Let. Him. Leave! I’ll be right there.” Lois dropped the phone and grabbed her purse and car keys, running out the door.

***

Superman sat in an interrogation room. He knew it was an interrogation room, but he wasn’t quite sure how he knew. He recognized the window that acted like a mirror. He could see others standing on the other side of it, even though he wasn’t supposed to. There was that psychiatrist who had just interviewed him. Must be one of his powers – super x-ray sight – even though he didn’t remember it mentioned in any of the articles.

First, Henderson had taken him to visit a friend of his at a place called S.T.A.R. Labs. The scientist’s name had been Bernard Klein, PhD. A strange man. Odd. Nice. Of course, everything and everyone seemed odd today. Perhaps he himself had been the oddest of the group. Dr. Klein had checked out Superman’s radioactivity levels and had found them slightly higher than norm, but not any more dangerous than if he had given dose of radiotherapy once or twice. Been human and had had a dose of radiotherapy, that was.

Next, the detective had returned with him to the police station and had asked that Superman speak with Dr. Terri McCorkle, the department’s police psychiatrist, about his missing memories. Per Henderson’s request on their drive back to Precinct Twelve – or was it Twelfth Precinct? – Superman didn’t demonstrate any of his super powers to anyone at the police station. They both thought it wiser if nobody realized that he was the real McCoy.

Superman watched as Henderson, that psychiatrist, and some other blonde lady discussed him.

“Henderson, I heard from a source that you brought Superman in…” said the blonde woman, who now that she had turned toward the window to ogle him, Superman recognized her. Linda King. That woman from the Metropolis Star. “What’s he doing here?”

“He doesn’t know. We picked him up at the Fifth Street Mission,” Henderson said to her, obviously lying. Why would Henderson tell her that?

“Superman!” she called to him as she knocked on the window.

“He can’t see you. It’s a one-way,” Henderson explained.

Only Superman could see and hear her – all of them – just fine.

“It doesn’t matter anyway; he can’t remember a thing,” the detective continued. “Where he works, who he is, me, you. Doc? Dr. Terri McCorkle, this is Linda King. Dr. McCorkle is our department shrink.”

“What could have caused this?” Linda asked, turning her attention to the psychiatrist.

“Several possibilities. I guess anxiety caused by this asteroid could be a factor. On the other hand…” stared the doctor.

“Hold on a minute. Superman, anxious? I don’t think so. What other theories do you have?” Linda said.

What? He couldn’t be anxious? Why not? Actually, he felt pretty darn worried at this exact minute, because he felt like Detective Henderson was throwing him under a bus to the press.

“These cases are often triggered by some kind of physical trauma,” continued the doctor.

“Well,” Linda rolled her eyes. “There are rumors that he crashed into Nightfall, blowing it up, yesterday… pure speculation and drivel, mind you,” stated the reporter, clearly not a fan of Lois Lane’s work. “But he did push Nightfall off course… maybe colliding with the asteroid. Perhaps when he lost his microphone, it was because he banged his head… but that was on Sunday.”

“Or maybe he was hit by a car,” suggested Henderson. “And knocked into some garbage.”

What was Henderson up to? Car? Garbage? Neither of those things would bang Superman up or give him amnesia.

“It could be delayed reaction,” Dr. McCorkle agreed, nodding her head.

Linda rolled her eyes at the detective and then ignored his interjection. “Will he be okay?” she asked, staring at Superman again.

Superman didn’t want to catch the reporter’s eye or she would know he could see her.

“Physically, he’s fine,” replied the psychiatrist.

“Well, duh?! He’s Superman,” Linda scoffed.

Superman stood up and walked toward the mirror. He had just realized that he was starting to develop a bit of visible stubble along his jaw. He wondered if his beard was invulnerable, too. Great! Just what he needed. How did one shave invulnerable stubble?

“Whether or not he’ll regain his memory immediately, I don’t know. Based on the battery of questions we asked him, it seems like he’s suffering from what we call the Superman complex,” said Dr. McCorkle.

“Of course he does.” Linda chuckled. “Don’t we all?”

Superman looked at his teeth in the mirror. His mouth felt like it was as dry as three-day-old bread. He could use a shower and a bed. He wanted to go home, wherever that was. He rubbed his teeth with his finger, hoping the fuzzy feeling that was developing would be relieved.

“What I mean is that he’s a chronic do-gooder, who thinks he can handle anything. This kind of setback can be very frustrating.”

Really? It took a trained psychiatrist to realize that he felt frustrated? Please! He could have told her that. He did tell her that.

“Tell me what I should do,” Linda asked.

Her? Superman didn’t want Linda to do anything. Thank you very much. He wanted Lois Lane to take charge of his mental health. Actually, he wanted Lois Lane to be in charge of more than his mental health, but he would settle for that. Maybe between her and Clark Kent, he would be able to recover some of his missing memories. Hadn’t he heard Henderson telephone the Daily Planet reporter?

“Charlie needs to be surrounded by familiar people, do familiar things. It will come back to him in time. Just be patient with him,” said the doctor.

“Charlie?” Linda inquired, confused. “Who’s Charlie?”

“He is,” said Henderson, nodding towards Superman on the other side of the window, not able to hide his smile any longer. “That’s Charlie King. He’s a professional Superman impersonator. Witnesses reported someone dressed as Superman getting hit by car yesterday during the celebrations and knocked into some garbage cans. His family called him in missing last night. They’re on their way now.”

“Wait? You aren’t Charlie King’s wife?” exclaimed Dr. McCorkle, glancing between Linda King and Detective Henderson. “With the same last name, I just assumed…”

Superman shook his head as he walked over to another window and played with the blinds. Charlie King was really his name? He thought he had made it up. If he was just a Superman impersonator, how could he fly?

Linda sneered at Henderson. “Very funny. Very funny.” Then she turned her almost leering gaze back to Superman. “King? Huh? Are you sure he’s not my long lost husband?”

“Positive. He’s got a wife, Lola, and a kid on the way,” Henderson told her.

Superman gulped. He was married and going to be a father? His heart ached as he looked down at the floor. He honestly felt chagrined for lusting after Lois Lane. Why hadn’t Henderson told him about his wife? Or was Henderson lying to Linda King again?

A few minutes later, Henderson led Superman out to the chair next to his desk. Superman sat down, completely confused. Was he Superman? Or was he just a Superman impersonator, like the detective told Linda King? No, an impersonator wouldn’t be able to fly, even for the five seconds he had. An impersonator would have been able to hear them talking about him or seen them through the one-way mirror. No, Henderson wouldn’t have called Lois Lane if he had been an impersonator married to a woman named Lola, especially if Clark Kent was his best friend.

Of course, Henderson may only have wanted to play a joke on Lois like he had with Linda King. And Henderson was the one who told Superman that Clark Kent was his best friend…

The din in the police station was louder out here in the pits than in the interrogation room, where everything had been blissfully muted. Superman had only heard what he had wanted to hear – what he had concentrated on hearing. Out here he could hear every little noise as it slammed into his head. It wasn’t a painful experience, and he probably wouldn’t end up with a headache, but it was sure annoying.

Through the sea of sounds, Superman heard a gasp and a feminine voice whisper, “Is that really him?”

What differentiated this gasp and those words from all the other ones he had heard today, he wasn’t sure. Superman suspected it had to do with the elevated heartbeat he also heard. He looked around the room, wondering if he could find the source of that voice.

“You tell me, Lane. You’re the expert,” he heard Henderson reply.

Lane! Lois Lane was here? Superman didn’t want to appear too excited but he was. Someone who knew him. Who could fill in the missing details of his life. Who could take him home. To his wife? Did he even have a wife? Or was that part of the practical joke on Ms. King?

“He’s alive?” Ms. Lane choked out.

She had thought he had died? Invulnerable, little ol’ Superman? Dead? No, Henderson wouldn’t play such a practical joke on Lois Lane, like he had with Linda King. That would be just cruel.

Superman had convinced himself that he was head-over-heels in love with Lois Lane. He didn’t know how it had happened, it just had. But there was something in Lois’s tone of voice that said his death had affected her deeply. His heart skipped a beat. Was there a part of her that actually loved Superman?

No matter how many times he argued with himself about loving her, Superman still couldn’t change his own mind. But if there was a part of her that loved him, would he fight for her love? Encourage it to grow? Or would finally meeting her in person, seeing her face-to-face, slap him back to reality on how one-sided his love was? Of how much she loved her boyfriend Clark? He continued to look around for Lois. He stood up and gazed squarely in to the eyes of Linda King.

“Honey, it’s me. Linda!” At his dazed expression, she continued, “How could you not remember what we meant to each other?” There was a slight pout to these words.

“Linda King, right?” Superman asked, his brow furrowing. “I guess you’ve interviewed me once or twice.”

“We do a lot more than that,” Linda said, a slight smile brushing her lips

“We do?” Superman replied skeptically. Personally, he couldn’t believe he would ever be attracted to Linda, not with Lois Lane in the world.

“We’ve kept it a secret. You’re so worried about what people think.” Linda glanced over her shoulder at a glowering brunette. “Especially her.”

Superman leaned over and took a look at the brunette to whom Linda was referring. She seemed a bit familiar, but he couldn’t place her face.

He shook his head as Linda continued speaking. “You don’t even remember us?” Then she started weeping into her hands.

“Um…” Superman wasn’t quite sure what do. Had they had a relationship? If they had, he really felt bad about not remembering. He patted her shoulders kindly, uncomfortably.

Linda took that as a cue to pull him into a tight embrace. “Does this refresh your memory?”

Superman could tell that Linda was really enjoying the hug as she rubbed her body against his. From over Linda’s shoulder he realized at second glance that the brunette was actually Lois Lane. She stood in the doorway to the squad room and at stared at him. Them. And there was fire in her eyes. He shrugged apologetically. What else could he do? He didn’t want to be in Linda’s embrace any more than Lois wanted him to be there.

Gently, he pushed the blonde woman out of his arms. “I’m sorry… Miss King. I truly don’t remember you. You are making me feel uncomfortable.”

Linda seemed perturbed by this development and glared at him. “Kiss me!” she demanded. “I know how Superman kisses and I’ll be able to tell the difference between an imposter and the real thing.”

Superman took another step back, almost in horror. Disbelief streaked across his face. “Excuse me?” He had kissed this woman? Why? Had he been rebounding from Lois’s rejection? Or was Linda lying? Either way, he was certainly not going to kiss her.

Linda grabbed his head and pulled his face towards hers, planting a kiss on his lips. Superman took several steps away from her, tripped over a chair, and landed on his butt. He fixed his eyes on the Metropolis Star reporter in shock. She pressed her lips together and looked down at him with sneering disdain. “You aren’t Superman,” she told him flippantly and stormed out of the squad room amongst a flurry of titters and guffaws. “He’s all yours, Tiny Town,” scoffed Linda as she passed Lois Lane and Detective Henderson.

Superman felt completely humiliated as his eyes connected with those of the dark-haired beauty across the room again. Maybe Linda King was right. Maybe he wasn’t who he had thought he was. Right now, he felt anything but super under the scrutiny of those dark brown eyes that penetrated deep inside him.

Lois broke eye contact and, as she turned to leave, mumbled, “I can’t do this…”

Henderson took hold of her arm and spoke softly. Superman doubted anyone but the three of them could hear. “He’s a blank slate.”

She froze. Her back, which still faced Superman, stiffened. “Wh… what?” she stammered.

“He’s lost his memory. He doesn’t remember himself, let alone Clark or…”

“Me?” Lois squeaked, looking at the detective. “He doesn’t remember Clark?” She gulped. She turned and faced Superman for a moment, fear in her eyes. “But… But… Superman… was the last person to see Clark before he disappeared…” She was almost pleading with Henderson to tell her he was joking.

Clark Kent was missing? Superman was the last person Clark spoke to before disappearing? Had he done something to Clark Kent? Had he threatened or… Superman swallowed as he pulled himself to his feet… killed that mild-mannered reporter out of jealousy? Was that why he had amnesia? Oh, God! He hoped not. He had to help that woman find her boyfriend, no matter the end results.

“He needs your help,” coaxed the detective.

Lois held up her hands. “No… No… No… We just started to clean up that mess. You know what Clark and I went through with all the rumors between us.” She flung her hand out towards Superman.

These words – despite being spoken in a hushed whisper – still punctured him. It was his fault? Had it been his attentions towards Lois that had ruined her reputation in the eyes of the tabloids? Of course it did! What had he done to this woman? She would never help him now. Not that he deserved it.

Superman could hear her heart beating a mile a minute. Her hands were shaking as she gestured to Henderson. “I can’t… What can I…? Where can I… ? No! Not without Clark. I can’t help him without Clark.” Her body was positively shaking now. Tears started pooling in those doe eyes as she turned and stared at Superman. What was the emotion that he saw in them? Pity? Sadness? Fear? A combination of all of the above. “I need Clark.”

“Ms. Lane? Lo-is,” Henderson said sternly. “He needs you.”

Lois was shaking her head. “I know. Don’t you think I want to help him?” she hissed. Superman watched as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “If Kal gets his memory back in two hours… I’ll have ruined everything by… No. Clark will kill me. Especially after…”

Who was Kal? Was he Kal? Superman wondered. Lois Lane did know him. He started walking across the squad room.

She grabbed Henderson’s lapels. “We’re married!” she pleaded. “I can’t!”

Superman stopped in his tracks. Lois Lane married Clark Kent? Had they gotten married to stop the rumors about Superman and Lois? Suddenly, it felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He wanted nothing more than to hold Lois in his arms and comfort her. But if she was married… to another man… and with all the rumors in the tabloids still swirling around the two of them. She was right. He needed to find Clark Kent… her husband.

Those words caused a sharp pain in his gut. They needed Clark’s buffer between them. He couldn’t be seen alone with Ms. Lane or it would be ruinous to more than her reputation. No one would want an adulterous hero. He nodded in determination. It was the least he could do after all he had done to this woman. He continued walking towards Lois and Henderson.

Lois stared at him with panic in her eyes, taking a step back. “I’m so sorry… Ka… Su… Superman. I’m so… sorry… I…”

Superman held out his hand. “Ms. Lane?”

She nodded vigorously. “Forgive me,” she whispered, before she hesitantly allowed him to take her hand.

The electricity that jolted through his body at her touch told him that his love for her was no delusion. Superman would do anything for this woman. Anything. Even it meant he would never be with her. Her happiness meant more to him than his own. “We’ll find your partner and bring him back to you,” he stated matter-of-factly, hating every word. “I promise.”

Lois pulled her eyes away from his and to their joined hands, then her eyes rolled back in her head and she sunk to the floor. Superman scooped her up into his arms. “She’s distraught about Clark,” he told Henderson as they walked through the squad room to the interrogation rooms.

Henderson sighed and mumbled under his breath. “You have no idea.”

*** End of Part 8 ***

Part 9

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