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Chapter 7

348 Hyperion Avenue

In their bedroom, the atmosphere was relaxed, but the anticipation of the upcoming infiltration lingered in the air. Lois, standing in front of the mirror, tried on several outfits before finally settling on an elegant burgundy dress that flattered her figure while reflecting the confidence of a woman ready to step into a world of high-stakes gambling. The rich, intense color was her favorite—and, more importantly, it was the one that never failed to melt Clark’s resolve.

Meanwhile, Clark sat on the bed, practicing shuffling and dealing cards with an almost supernatural precision. His movements were quick, nearly imperceptible to the human eye. Yet his focus continually drifted toward Lois, who was admiring herself in the mirror. He had removed his glasses—a private gesture he reserved for moments when he was simply Clark, unburdened by the weight of being Superman.

He watched her, captivated, letting the cards slide effortlessly between his fingers, though his mind was no longer on the task. His eyes lingered on the curve of her back, the way the light caught her hair, and the grace with which she adjusted the necklace resting on her collarbone.

Sensing his gaze, Lois turned slightly toward him, an amused smile playing on her lips.

“Clark, you’re supposed to be practicing your dealing skills, not playing the admiring husband.”

Clark smiled softly, the cards slipping from his hands onto the bed without him even noticing.
“How am I supposed to focus when you’re standing there, looking like that?” His voice was low, tinged with passion.

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, before walking toward him, her heels clicking softly on the wooden floor.
“Oh, is Mr. Kent having trouble staying focused?”

Clark gently took her hand as she reached him, pulling her toward him. She perched on his lap, her dress pooling elegantly around them.
“I assure you, I’m focused... just not on what Perry asked us to do.”

He pressed a tender kiss to her bare shoulder, his hands gliding over her hips. Lois closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the intimacy.
“You really should get back to practicing, Clark. We need to be ready for tonight.”

Clark sighed, his mischievous smile betraying his lack of interest in the cards.
“Fine... but you’re so much more captivating than any deck of cards, Lois.”

They lingered in the moment, stealing a brief reprieve from their hectic lives, before Lois rose, her lips curling into a playful smirk.
“Alright, dealer, back to work.”

Clark sighed, retrieving the cards, though his gaze never left his wife, stunning in that burgundy dress.

Black Star Circle

Clark, disguised with a neatly trimmed beard and round glasses, wore a sharp ensemble: a fitted white shirt, a black vest, and a bow tie. He was wrapping up a game of blackjack with a professional smile.
“I’ll now reveal my hand. The dealer has 20—you lose,” he announced, gathering the chips from the disappointed players, who stood and walked away from the table.

A man approached, raising his hand as if to stop them.
“Don’t leave just yet—Carl’s coming. You’re about to see real skill!” Humility, it seemed, was not Carl Bowers’ strong suit.

The games continued, and Carl, as promised, played with remarkable skill. Players came and went. A man seated next to Carl leaned in and murmured something in his ear. Clark’s super hearing caught every word.
“Nice fireworks this morning. The boss couldn’t stop raving about you.”

Carl was about to respond when murmurs swept through the room. He turned to see Lois entering on Perry’s arm.
“Check out the doll,” he muttered under his breath.

Lois and Perry’s entrance had been carefully choreographed to draw just the right amount of attention while maintaining credibility. Draped in her satin burgundy dress, perfectly tailored to her figure, Lois exuded understated elegance. Long silk gloves adorned her arms, and a delicate necklace graced her neck, signaling a woman of wealth and privilege. Her hair was styled in a sophisticated updo, giving her the air of a composed businesswoman. She scanned the room with a confident, slightly detached expression.

At her side, Perry, clad in an impeccable black suit, adopted a more reserved demeanor. He leaned in to murmur something to Lois, perhaps offering advice or encouragement. Their camaraderie felt natural, well-rehearsed.

They approached the main gaming table, where Carl Bowers—their target—sat.
“This is where the real fun happens,” Perry announced with a confident grin, straightening slightly to draw the attention of nearby players. “Miss Thornton has a particular fondness for risk.”

Lois offered a poised smile, taking a seat and casually eyeing the stack of chips in front of Carl.
“Risk... it’s what makes things interesting, isn’t it?” she said, her tone cool and calculating as she focused on the dealer’s cards.

From his position behind the table, Clark immediately recognized her but kept his expression neutral. He briefly glanced at Perry before returning his attention to the cards.

Carl, grinning, turned his attention to Lois, flashing a charming smile.
“That’s a rare quality in newcomers. I hope you’re up to the challenge.”

“Oh, I never play unless I’m certain I’ll win,” Lois replied with icy confidence.

As Perry observed the other players, blending seamlessly into the background, Clark continued to deal the cards, using his super hearing to pick up on the whispers surrounding Carl. Key information was beginning to surface.

One player leaned toward Carl, nodding toward Lois.
“We should keep an eye on her. She seems to know what she’s doing.”

Carl, amused, chuckled.
“I hope so. It might make the night more interesting.”

Lois, staying perfectly in character, turned her head slightly and flashed Carl a mysterious smile before placing a significant bet on the table.

The game was just beginning, but already, Carl and his men’s attention were fully fixed on her. Perry exchanged a brief glance with Clark, knowing that the next moments were crucial.

As the tension grew with each dealt hand, Carl’s smug grin remained firmly in place as he racked up another win.
“Seems like luck’s on my side tonight,” he declared theatrically, stacking his chips. “Maybe this game is too subtle for some.”

Lois clenched her jaw but kept her face composed. She hated losing, especially to someone so insufferably smug.
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” she said coolly. “You’re playing with overconfidence. And overconfidence often leads to a fall.”

Carl laughed, clearly entertained by her remark.
“You sound like someone who loses often, my dear. Maybe you should bow out while you still have a few chips left.”

Lois leaned forward slightly, her gaze piercing.
“Or maybe you should worry about what happens when your ‘luck’ runs out. Because I have no intention of folding.”

Perry, watching the scene unfold, played his role perfectly, maintaining an air of experienced authority. Clark continued to deal the cards, his expression unreadable but his senses keenly tuned to the room’s dynamics.

“Place your bets,” he said calmly, waiting for the tension between Lois and Carl to spill onto the gaming table.

Carl cast a disdainful look at Lois as he placed his chips back on the table.

"Very well, let’s see what you’ve got. Hopefully, your boldness is well-founded."

He laid down his cards, revealing a hand that was clearly a win. Lois muttered under her breath, her fingers brushing against her remaining chips.

"You’re lucky again, but luck, as you know, can turn quickly."

Carl raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"You seem quite confident for someone who’s losing. Perhaps you’ve got another trick up your sleeve?"

Lois offered a faint smile, her eyes glinting with defiance.
"Perhaps. But you should know that overconfidence can be a trap. And it seems you’re a perfect example."

Carl straightened, amused, and gave the table a light tap.
"You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But sometimes, guts aren’t enough to beat skill."

Lois stood from her chair, leaning slightly forward to meet Carl at eye level.
"And sometimes, arrogance and conceit aren’t enough to maintain a facade. I wonder how long you’ll keep your mask from slipping."

Carl rose as well, their faces inches apart, the tension palpable.
"What are you implying? Do you think you can intimidate me with threats?"

Lois met his gaze head-on.
"I don’t make threats, Carl. I state facts. And believe me, the night is far from over."

Sensing the rising tension, Perry intervened, placing a calm hand on Lois’ shoulder.
"Why don’t we leave it at that for now? We could all use a little breather after this round. Louise, why don’t you grab a drink? Carl, I’m sure you could use a break too."

Carl chuckled mockingly.
"Very well, let’s take a moment to relax. But I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve got up your sleeve, Louise."

Lois turned slightly, joining Perry as he escorted her toward the bar.
"Don’t get your hopes up, Carl. I’m not ready to fold just yet."

She paused to murmur to Perry,
"He’s far too sure of himself. We need to find something to bring him down."

Perry nodded in understanding, while Clark, lingering in the background, watched the exchanges closely, searching for opportunities to gather additional intel.

Carl strolled toward the bar with a self-satisfied grin. Lois and Perry followed, their exchanged glances filled with strategy. At the bar, Perry ordered drinks while engaging in casual conversation to blend into the environment.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked.

Perry turned to Lois, offering her an encouraging smile.
"A glass of champagne for Miss Thornton, please. And for me, an aged cognac."

Lois kept her sharp gaze on Carl, observing his every move across the bar. Taking a sip of champagne, her expression remained unreadable.
"So, Perry, what do you think of the situation?" she murmured.

Perry replied in a low voice, his eyes scanning the room.
"Carl Bowers is clever and incredibly self-assured. He clearly trusts his abilities. But that might be where we can get him. He’s overconfident. We need to use that against him."

Lois nodded in agreement, her focus never wavering from Carl as he chatted with a group of players.

"I’ll have to be even bolder to unsettle him. And Clark—he needs to stay sharp. Every detail matters when trying to understand Bowers’ true motives."

Perry agreed.
"Clark’s doing great. He’s already picking up key intel. We need to keep playing the part and stay discreet."

Lois turned to Perry, her resolve evident.
"I’m going back to the table and raising the stakes. I want Carl to feel threatened. If we can push him to make a mistake, we might unearth something incriminating."

Perry nodded, appreciating Lois’ determination.
"Alright, let’s do it. I’ll stay here and keep an eye out for anything useful. Be careful, Lois. And make sure to keep the upper hand."

Lois adjusted her deep burgundy dress with grace and confidence before heading back to the blackjack table. Her movements were deliberate, her demeanor unshaken.

Carl greeted her with a smug smile, perceiving her boldness as a challenge he was eager to meet.
"Ready for another round?" he asked, his tone teasing.

Clark, in his role as the dealer, dealt the cards with precise and practiced movements. At the blackjack table, the tension was palpable. The players were focused, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement.

Carl, in high spirits, stacked his chips with a disconcerting ease, a smirk playing on his lips. He seemed to savor every moment, his eyes fixed on Lois.
"Looks like luck is on my side tonight," he said, theatrically rolling his chips across the table.

Lois, gritting her teeth, slid a stack of chips to the center of the table.
"You know, Carl, luck is often a matter of perspective. And sometimes, those who seem the most confident have the most to lose."

Carl, amused, gave her a disdainful look.
"You’ve got guts, Louise. But don’t forget, the game is about strategy. Let’s see if your bravery matches your words."

Clark dealt the cards swiftly and efficiently, closely observing the players’ reactions. The game intensified with every hand. Carl kept winning, but Lois refused to back down, increasing her bets with growing determination.

"You know, Carl, I’m starting to wonder if your victories aren’t just a little too… consistent," she said, her tone challenging.

Carl shrugged, still smiling.
"Maybe. Or maybe you just haven’t figured out your cards’ true potential yet. The game’s complicated, Miss Thornton. You have to know when to bet big."

Lois leaned in, her eyes locked on Carl.
"Alright then, let’s show this room what betting big really looks like."

She placed a significant bet on the table. The air was thick with anticipation. Carl, still confident, matched her bet with ease.

"Let’s see what you’ve got up your sleeve," he said, his smirk unwavering.

Clark revealed the cards. Carl’s hand was another resounding win. Lois, visibly frustrated but unwavering, kept her composure.

"You’re lucky, Carl. But luck can change. And believe me, I don’t intend to let you win that easily."

Carl, savoring his victory, leaned toward Lois with a provocative smile.
"You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that. But spirit doesn’t always beat skill. Maybe you should bow out before the night costs you more than you bargained for."

Lois clenched her fists, glaring at him.
"I have no intention of leaving until I’ve proven you’re far from invincible."

Carl chuckled and addressed the other players.
"We’ve got a real competitor here. May the best hand win."

The game resumed, and the tension was at its peak. Bets increased, and each card revealed seemed to amplify the intensity of the confrontation.

Lois responded by sitting at the table with calm confidence.
"Ready. Let’s see if Carl Bowers’ luck can still shine in this game."

Carl made a grand gesture, sweeping the cards in front of him.
"All right, ladies and gentlemen, place your bets. May the best one win."

Lois, focused, straightened in her chair, a determined glint in her eyes. She adjusted her bet, the largest of the evening.
"Very well, Carl," she said, her voice full of defiance, "let's show the spectators what true skill can achieve."

Carl, amused, looked at his hand and then at Lois with a smug smile. He nonchalantly raised his bet.
"You’re bold, Miss Thornton. But boldness is not always rewarded."

Clark dealt the cards, the room thick with anticipation. The tension was palpable as the cards were revealed one by one.

The cards were turned over slowly, and Carl observed with confidence. But as Lois revealed her final hand, a satisfied expression lit up her face.
"Let’s see if your confidence is well-placed, Carl."

She unveiled her hand: a perfect combination, a blackjack. The players around the table murmured in astonishment. Carl, visibly surprised, stared at his own cards in disbelief.

"Blackjack," Clark announced, his voice calm yet tinged with surprise.

Lois sat up straight, a triumphant smile on her lips. Carl’s chips slid across the table toward her, and she stacked them with assurance.

Carl, stunned, watched the chips being transferred, his facade of confidence shattering. The circle around the table fell silent, the impact of Lois’ victory resonating in the room.

"It seems luck has turned, Carl," Lois said, her expression proud yet composed.

Carl, forcing a smile, tried to regain his composure.
"You’ve done it, Miss Thornton. You really do have a talent for the game."

Lois, still smiling, slowly rose, her movements full of grace and satisfaction.
"Perhaps you underestimated my skills, Carl. But I’m far from done with what I’ve started."

Perry, observing closely, stepped beside Lois with an approving smile.
"Well done, Louise. You made quite the impression."

All eyes followed as Lois and Perry moved toward the bar, leaving Carl and the other players stunned. The energy in the room was palpable, murmurs and speculations growing louder.

Carl, lost in thought, turned to his associates.
"I’m going to need to reevaluate this evening," he muttered, his arrogance replaced by humiliation.

Clark, still in the background, observed Carl and his companions intently. Lois’ victory might just be the key to uncovering crucial information. The game had shifted, and with it, the rules of the investigation.

Lois added,
"Excuse me, gentlemen, this game has been fun, but I need to powder my nose."

She rose elegantly and headed toward the back of the room. On the way, she cast discreet glances, noting details around her. Once in the restroom, she paused briefly to ensure no one was following her, then slipped into a less-traveled side hallway.

She reached an inconspicuous door marked simply “Staff Only.” After a quick glance to confirm she wasn’t being watched, she pushed it open and entered. Inside was a small, sparsely decorated office with a dark wooden desk, a shelf filled with files, and a safe embedded in the wall.

Lois got to work immediately, sifting through the files on the desk. She quickly flipped through the documents, discarding irrelevant ones. Her eyes landed on a folder marked "Confidential." She opened it carefully and found detailed plans for explosive devices.

Her heart racing, she took photos of the plans with her phone, ensuring she captured every critical detail. She also noted the key to the safe lying on the desk.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway startled Lois. She quickly closed the safe and looked for a place to hide. She slipped into a closet, closing the door just as Carl entered with one of his men.

Inside the closet, Lois listened closely to their muffled conversation.

"That Louise is something else! She’s clearly fearless."
"And she’s so classy too!"
"Don’t let her distract you. Now, any updates on my transfer? Mrs. Church promised it within 12 hours of the explosion. I hope she kept her word."

Lois listened intently, trying to grasp the context. Carl seemed impatient, and Mrs. Church’s name came up again. This confirmed Mindy Church’s crucial role in Bowers’ organization.

Carl’s associate replied in a low voice,
"I checked earlier, and everything seems in order. The transfer was made as planned. But you know how Mrs. Church operates; she likes her plans to be airtight and always keeps control."

Carl grunted.
"Good. Let’s just make sure everything stays on track. We’ve got more tasks to handle before the next meeting."

After a few moments, the footsteps grew fainter as Carl and his man walked away. Lois waited a few extra seconds before stepping out of the closet, careful not to make any noise.

She quickly returned to the gaming room, where Perry was waiting anxiously.
"We’ve got something, Perry," she said in a low voice. "Carl Bowers and his associates are working with Mrs. Church on something far bigger than what we’ve seen tonight. It looks like there’s a carefully orchestrated plan underway."

Perry nodded, his expression serious.
"All right, we need to act fast. Let’s gather all the evidence we can and get in touch with the authorities. We can’t let these people carry out their plans."

Lois and Perry headed for the exit, determined to put an end to Carl Bowers’ and Mindy Church’s activities before it was too late.

His Story

Her Story


Happy holidays, everyone! I hope yall enjoy.

Previously...

Meanwhile...

----------

Her Story: Part Two

At least Dr. Mulligan had been eager to help when they returned to the institute. She and Bruce had a lot of new information by the time they stepped back out into the morning sun: John Doe was reportedly obsessed with science fiction, particularly time travel and the works of H.G. Wells. His fixation was so intense that the psychiatrists had never been able to get the truth of his past from him, only an elaborate fantasy about living in the distant future and traveling in Wells' fictional machine. Doe was also obsessed with Superman and the reporters Clark Kent and Lois Lane.

They paused on the freshly-salted walkway outside the gates, and Claire turned to Bruce. “So, I guess Lois is our next lead?”

“Unless you want to hold a séance so we can talk to a dead 19th century author.” Bruce ran his eyes over her, then shook his head. “Then again, my sense of what's impossible has been changing, recently; I probably shouldn't be surprised if he *does* turn up.”

**********

They landed in the backyard of a two-story brownstone, boots crunching on the snow . This was allegedly the house where Clark Kent, a man with an incredibly big secret, lived with his wife Lois Lane, the reporter who thrived on exposing big secrets. The high privacy fence surrounding them lent more credence to the idea, but it still went against everything Claire remembered of the woman.

Inside, Lois's voice was speaking animatedly to someone. She passed in front of a large window, clutching a phone to her ear. “—but there hasn't been anything on the news, so I don't...” Lois stilled and stared out the window, straight at them. “Martha, he just came back! I'll have him call you.”

Claire's eyebrows rose.

The back door flew open, and Lois ran out into the snow. She stopped just in front of them, every muscle tense, and a hand that had been reaching towards Claire now flexed awkwardly and dropped to her side. “Superman! What's—uh—what's going on?” Her eyes flicked to Bruce.

Bruce stepped forward. “We need information about John Doe. I understand you and your husband have encountered him before?”

“You *both* need information?” Lois furrowed her brow, looking at Claire again.

Claire cleared her throat. “Um, yes. Do you know much about his obsession with time travel and...uh...alternate universes?”

Lois stared at them for a while, then closed her eyes and groaned. “Oh, great! Not again!”

Bruce and Claire exchanged a look.

Lois sighed. “Come on; we can talk about this inside.”

**********

The three sat around the table in a bright, cozy kitchen. Lois leaned back in her chair, one hand curled around a cup of hot cocoa while the other rubbed her forehead. “Okay, where to start... John Doe's real name is Tempus. He likes violence and mayhem, and he desperately wants to prevent Superman's descendants from bringing about a peaceful future called 'Utopia'. Clark and I first met him two years before we got married.”

Claire lowered her own cocoa and blinked in surprise. “So you *are* married, then!” At Lois's confused expression, Claire's cheeks began to feel warm. “I just...wondered. Based on what I thought I knew about the Lois Lane of my world, it didn't seem possible.”

Lois brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled sheepishly into her cup. “Well, it was a long, rocky road to get to that point, I'll admit. After our first real date, I slammed the door in his face.”

“Date went poorly?” Claire sipped her drink.

Lois shook her head. “No, date went too well. I realize that probably doesn't make any sense...”

“It does.” Bruce shifted in his chair, apparently studying the far wall.

Claire sighed. “I must have a type.”

Lois met Claire's eyes again, her cup half raised to her lips. “Do you mind if I ask what things are like in your universe?”

Claire smiled ruefully. “Well, I know I don't look like it right now, but back in my universe, I'm a woman. My husband and I have been married for just over a year. When I found myself...well...” She waved a hand down her torso. “...like this, I thought I was still in my own world, so I went to him for help—or at least, the man I thought was him.”

Lois's eyes widened and flicked to Bruce. “You.”

He gave a non-committal grunt.

Lois smiled down into her cocoa. “That's a lot like what I did back when Tempus tried to strand me in another universe. I found that world's Clark Kent, and we ended up helping each other.” She took a sip and then paused, a frown creasing her forehead. Her gaze snapped back to Bruce. “She told you everything, didn't she?”

Bruce gave another non-committal grunt.

Claire's cheeks felt warm again. “Sorry. If anything, I thought it was *you* who couldn't know the truth about Superwo—ah, Superman.”

Lois stared at her with an unreadable expression. “So you trust Batman?”

“With my life.” Claire met her gaze, unflinching.

Her eyes trailed over Bruce, narrowing as they lingered on the mask.

He met her scrutiny with a cool and even stare. “How did you get back from the other world?”

Lois blew out a breath, suddenly fascinated with her cocoa. “Well, what's one more stop on the way to Crazytown? I got help from H.G. Wells.”

Bruce was silent for a moment. “You mean...his books?”

She shook her head. “No. I mean the real, live man with a real, working time machine. He's kind of a self-appointed guardian of that future Clark and I are supposed to create.”

“Of course.” Bruce's face became expressionless beneath the cowl.

“He usually shows up whenever there's a problem in the time-line that needs fixing.” Lois frowned. “Actually, I'm surprised he hasn't been in touch, yet.”

Claire thought for a moment. “Is there a way we can contact him?”

Lois's fingers tapped against the side of her cup. “Well, he's a time-traveller; if we leave a message somewhere he could find it, he should be able to show up at any time no matter when he leaves from.” She paused, closed her eyes, and rubbed her head again. “...I hate time travel.”

“Let's do that, then.” Bruce studied the table for a moment, his chin resting on a gloved fist. “There's a time-capsule getting buried in Gotham Square Park on New Year's Eve. Anything in it is likely to get noticed by people interested in history.”

Lois nodded. “I'll write the note, then.” She fetched a notepad and pen from a nearby drawer and began writing. After several moments of scribbling, she looked up. “How will we get it into the capsule?”

“I'll take care of that.” Bruce held out his hand.

As soon as Lois placed the folded paper in his glove, the air began to tingle. There was a soft rap at the kitchen door. Lois bolted to her feet and answered it, revealing a small, Elderly gentleman in a waistcoat and bowler hat. Behind him, some kind of sleigh was now parked in the snow-covered yard, right across the trail of footprints they had left.

Lois smiled and held the door wider, stepping out of the way. “Mr. Wells! For once, I'm really glad to see you!”

The little man smiled and tipped his had to her as he entered. “Best of the season to you, Mrs. Kent.” He nodded at Claire. “Superman.” When he turned to Bruce, his eyebrows rose. “The Batman? My goodness, I hadn't expected your path to cross with theirs for years, yet!”

“We have a situation, Mr. Wells.” Lois pulled a chair out for him at the table.

As Wells sat down, he held up a yellowed version of the note Lois had just written. “So I infer. Tempus, again?”

She nodded. “Again. Though I should probably start by explaining that this isn't Superman.” She motioned to Claire.

Wells stared at Claire curiously.

Claire returned to her seat, brushing her cape aside and crossing her boots at the ankles. “In my universe, I'm Super*woman*.”

Wells' eyebrows raced to the brim of his hat. “Good heavens! That does quite explain a few things...” He turned to Lois and grimaced. “My apologies for not detecting this latest upset. The truth is, I did notice a few changes to Utopia's history, but the effect was so negligible and the cause so obscured that I took it to be a mere instance of what some call a 'quantum wobble'.”

“A wobble?” Lois dropped back into her chair and glared across the table at Wells. “You're telling me that having Superman completely disappear only caused history to *wobble*?!”

He held up a finger. “Ah, but Superman has not disappeared; merely been replaced.” He turned to Claire. “Tell us, Madam: could you sit by and do nothing if the good citizens of this world were in danger, even though this universe is not your own?”

Claire shook her head. “Of course not!”

His smile was knowing. “Quite right. And how would you respond to the knowledge that a child would soon be born whose closest match to a father is you?”

Lois flushed, and her voice lowered. “Clark doesn't know yet.”

Wells kept his eyes on Claire.

Claire took a deep breath, thinking it over. “Well, I guess...we'd have to work something out. I know the kid wouldn't be able to understand the truth for a long time, but...I don't want to live a lie. I'm sorry.” She shook her head. “There's no way I could pretend to be someone's dad. Other than that, though, I'd still want to help in any way I can.”

Wells turned back to Lois with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “And there you have it. Superman remains in the sky, his child is raised as well as can be expected, and Utopia eventually comes to pass.”

Lois threw her hands up in the air. “So then, Tempus swapped them for nothing!”

“From his perspective, yes,” said Wells. “You see, my dear, Utopia is founded on the ideals of selflessness and always trying one's best to do good; ideals that Tempus cannot internalize.” He pulled out a pocket-watch and studied it with a grim expression. “Unfortunately, while his latest gambit has failed in the grander scheme, it may have succeeded on a more personal level. There are infinite timelines, and we have no way of knowing which one holds Mr. Kent.”

Claire sat straighter in her chair and folded her arms. “No, Tempus did not win. Some way or another, either my husband will find me or I will find my way back to him. That's just how things are with us.”

Lois crossed her own arms also and stared at Wells. “It's the same with me and Clark. Neither of us will give up until we've come back to each other! So if there's two on that world trying to find this one, and two here working to find the other—”

“Three.” Bruce stepped forward from the corner he'd been lurking in and rested a hand on Lois's shoulder. She looked up at him with a little start, and he met her eyes. “I have...resources. I'll do whatever I can to bring your husband back to his family.” He shifted his gaze to Claire. “And I will do whatever it takes to send you home to yours.”

Claire blinked back the forming tears. “Thank you!”

Lois grinned at Wells. “So, I'd say the universe doesn't stand a chance!”

A soft beeping from Wells's pocket interrupted the moment. He drew out a small device, stared at it, and his eyebrows suddenly rose to meet his hat. “Good heavens! Is that...?”

“Is that what?” Lois's grin gave way to a look of impatience.

He gaped at her. “The tracking beacon Utopia's peace keepers placed on Tempus at his last incarceration! Quite naturally, it stopped transmitting shortly after his escape; doubtless found and destroyed. But somehow, it's now transmitting again!”

A thrill rushed along Claire's spine. “So we can find him, then!”

Bruce held up a hand. “Not so fast: it could be a trap. Why else would a man who made a clean get-away suddenly give up his position?”

Lois rose to her feet. “Well, there's one obvious way to find out. Mr. Wells, let's go!” She darted to the kitchen door, flung it open, and headed straight for the time machine.

Beneath the cowl, Bruce's eye twitched.

Claire shrugged apologetically and pushed her chair back from the table. “It's how she works. It used to drive me nuts back when I worked at the Planet, but I've got to say, it always got results.”

“This explains so much,” Bruce muttered as he followed her out the door with Wells close behind.

**********

The world dissolved in a swirl of color as the machine lurched in a direction that didn't exist. Claire's hand automatically found Bruce's. He tensed a moment, then reached over and patted it. The light surrounding them slowly coalesced again into shapes and figures, and finally, they found themselves inside a very familiar barn.

The steady beeping from the tracking beacon Wells carried suddenly developed an echo somewhere in the room. At the far end, the man from the storage closet was barely recognizable beneath his bruises and had been thoroughly tied up with rope. A short distance away, at the source of the echo, three people stood staring in their direction: Lois, Bruce, and a woman whose features Claire recognized. “You!”

“You!” They spoke at the same and raced towards each other, meeting halfway. “You're in—”

“—My body!” They turned to the elderly gentleman dismounting the machine. “Mr. Wells—”

“—change us back!”

Wells held up a placating hand; the other gripped another strange-looking device. “Quite right, quite right. Now, do hold still; this won't take but a moment...” He fiddled with a few dials. “Let's see now...there.”

Space bent and shifted around Claire. When it stopped, she was a bit shorter and standing next to a dark-haired man. She looked down at herself, feeling to make sure she was really back in her own skin, and was dimly aware of the man doing the same. Claire shut her eyes a moment, listening: when she heard the faint flutter in her womb, she breathed a sigh of relief. “It worked! I'm—”

“—me again! Lois!”

“Bruce!” At the speed of thought, she was in her husband's tight embrace, his arms holding her fast against his chest and his mouth crushing down on hers. A long time later, she pulled her lips a breath away from his. “I missed you so much.”

He dropped a kiss onto her hair. “I missed you, too.” His eyes conveyed so much more than his words could ever manage. They would make time for all the things that remained unsaid, but this moment in a crowded barn was not the right one. So, in an unspoken agreement, each slipped an arm around the other and they headed over to the other couple.

Claire reached her free-hand out to shake the man's hand. “Um, hi. I'm Claire Wayne.”

“Clark Kent.” He returned the shake while keeping an arm around the alternate Lois. “It's nice to finally meet you. Your husband is...full of surprises.”

Claire smiled at the woman. “And so is your wife.” She turned towards her own world's Lois Lane, standing alone in a corner of the barn. “I...owe you an apology, Lois. And probably a few explanations. Is it all right if we talk, later?”

Her old partner shrugged. “Well, I suppose I can spare a few minutes for the jobless trophy wife.” A smile told Claire that the barb had only been meant as a joke. “Sure, we can talk.”

“Thanks.” Claire scanned the room for the other Bruce and found the big goof trying to blend into a patch of shadows in the corner. “As for you...” She sped to him and pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you for everything!”

He awkwardly returned the hug. “Um, you're welcome.”

Her husband's steady heartbeat grew louder as he approached from behind her. “Hello.”

“Hello.” The other Bruce looked hers over.

Her Bruce slipped an arm around her again and put a hand forward. “Thank you.”

The other Bruce nodded once and accepted the shake.

Before releasing his hand, her husband leaned closer to his counterpart and lowered his voice. “Take risks.”

His counterpart stared at him.

“I can only infer what your life is like...” He swept his gaze over the famous costume. “But in case you're like me: don't try to go it alone. Gamble on friendships, partnerships.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “And if you ever get an opportunity to have Martha Kent in your life, take it!”

**********

As the old song lyric proclaimed: for the holidays, you can't beat home-sweet-home. Claire sighed contentedly as she curled up on the couch, her head on Bruce's shoulder and her hands cradling a cup of eggnog. A jar of her mom's homemade sweet pickles rested on the coffee table; it wasn't quite the traditional Christmas snack, but something about the smell of gingerbread put her off anymore. She reached for a pickle, dunked it in the eggnog, and savored a creamy, crunchy bite.

In the easy-chair across from them, Lois looked up from her own eggnog and visibly gagged. “How can you eat those together?!”

She grinned and dunked it again. “Happily, now that I don't have to worry about hiding clues from a detective anymore!”

Bruce chuckled and took a sip from his brand new mug.

Just then, her dad poked his head into the room. “You kids might not believe this, but there's a sleigh outside!”

Lois smirked. “Are reindeer pulling it?”

“No.” Her dad frowned. “In fact, nothing seems to be pulling it at all, so I'm not sure how it got here. There's a man inside who looks like some kind of historical re-enactor.”

Pickles forgotten, Claire leapt to her feet and followed her dad out onto the porch with Bruce and Lois tagging close behind. Her mom already stood at the railing, watching an approaching figure. Sure enough, it was an elderly man in a bowler hat. Claire lit up. “Mr. Wells!”

H.G. Wells tipped his hat. “Season's greetings to you all! I do hope I'm not intruding?”

Her mom pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and reached out to shake his hand. “Not at all, Mister...Wells, was it?”

He nodded. “Yes, Madam: H.G. Wells.”

A confused frown knitted her mom's forehead. “Wait—H.G. Wells? The writer?”

“Quite.” The corner of his mouth twitched.

Her dad stared at the newcomer. “The *dead* writer?”

“Sometimes.” He gave a slight shrug, then turned to address Claire. “I took the liberty of storing this world's coordinates in my machine so as to check on its future, and I thought, in the spirit of Christmas, that some 'good tidings' might be in order.”

Claire relaxed against Bruce's side as his arm came up around her. “Back in the other world, you said that Tempus didn't ruin its future. Is that true for here, too?”

The time-traveler's eyes sparkled. “Even better, Madam: the repairs to the damage have left both universes in a better state than before!” He dipped his head at Lois. “Ms. Lane, your renewed friendship with Mrs. Wayne here is an asset to both of you, the importance of which I cannot overstate.” He turned to Bruce. “And of course, in my own universe, years of mistrust between Superman and the Batman have now been completely elided. Their alliance not only accelerated the creation of Utopia, but made it remarkably stronger.” Wells grinned. “I cannot fully express my delight upon showing Tempus the future he helped bring about. I daresay, seeing what his own hand has wrought may do more to rehabilitate him than all the efforts of purer souls!”

A deep laugh rumbled in Bruce's chest. “Well, I won't hold my breath on that, but it serves him right.”

“Indeed.” Wells smiled. “I may look in on this world from time to time, if that suits you all. In the meantime, a merry Christmas to all of you!”




_And A Happy New Year_

Previously...

Meanwhile...

----------

His Story: Part 2

The old farmhouse was just like the one Clark had grown up in. Hopefully, the people inside were also the same. He landed behind a wood-pile and set Lois on her feet. Even though she wasn't *his* Lois, he still kept hold of her hand as they made their way through the ankle-high snow to the kitchen door. If she thought it was weird of him, she didn't comment.

The door swung open just as they reached the back step. “Claire!” His mother came outside in her slippers and pulled him into a tight hug. Despite the difference in universes, the comfort of her touch was the same.

Clark allowed himself to relax and return the hug. “Hi, Mom.”

She pulled back and studied his face, cradling it in her hands. “Honey, what happened? Bruce called last night asking if you were here, and this morning he said you never came home!”

“He thought I came here last night?” Clark's eyebrows rose. “So, he knows I can fly?”

His mom frowned in confusion. “What?! Why wouldn't he—” Her gaze moved behind him to land on Lois, and her eyes widened. She looked back to Clark. “Claire? What's going on?”

Clark grimaced. “It's really complicated. Could we come in and I'll try to explain?”

Her mouth pressed into a firm line. “Please do.”

**********

The door closed behind them, shutting out the cold. Clark went to the table and pulled a chair out for Lois, taking the one beside it for himself. His mother stood by the stove, watching them, her arms crossed and her expression wary. Clark looked her in the eyes. “I know a lot of this is going to sound completely crazy, and some of it might even be a little hard to follow. But please hear me out, and—” His gaze fell on the large jars lining the counter beside her. “—Are those your famous sweet pickles?”

His mom nodded, the corner of her mouth twitching.

Clark swallowed down the building saliva. How long had it been since he'd tasted any of his mom's homemade pickles? Months? Years? For some reason, he'd failed to take advantage of the opportunities he'd had back in his own world. Her recipe was incomparable, from the perfect crunch of the cucumber to the salty and flavorful brine...

A jar appeared on the table in front of him, and his mom wordlessly unscrewed the lid.

“Thank you!” He reached for one of the plump, green delicacies and bit into it with gusto. It was even more heavenly than he remembered! He opened his eyes to find Lois giving him an odd look. “Um, sorry. What were we talking about, again?”

His mom's amused expression quickly sobered. “About why you left your husband wondering where you are, and why you flew a reporter to our house.” She looked up at Lois. “No offense, dear.”

Lois waved the comment away. “It's okay, I understand. And don't worry: none of this is going to print.” She watched Clark's enthusiastic chewing for a while, scrutinized the jar of pickles, and reached in to try one.

Clark swallowed another bite. “Lois can keep a secret, Mom. I trust her with my life.”

His mom looked between the two of them, a frown creasing her forehead. “And...why do you trust her that deeply?”

He sighed, polished off the remains of his snack, and reached back into the jar for a fresh one. “Well, like I said, it sounds completely crazy...”

**********

By the time Clark reached the end of his narrative, his mother had sunk into the chair across from them. Now, she sat watching Clark with wide eyes and a slightly befuddled expression. “So, this Tempus character...sent you to another universe...to change the future?”

Clark nodded. “That's right.” He took another bite of pickle.

She frowned. “A future created by H.G. Wells?”

“No, by Superman.” He paused, chewing thoughtfully. “Actually, H.G. Wells said it was the descendants of Superman and—” He hesitated. “—and my wife.”

His mom rested her chin on her hands and gave him a sharp look. “Your world's Lois, you mean.”

Lois turned to him with wide eyes.

Clark squirmed a little. “...Yeah.” He straightened and met Lois's gaze. “I'm sorry for not telling you. I guess I just figured it wasn't relevant.”

“Right. Of course not.” Lois huffed. “Secrets are just a *thing* with you and Claire, aren't they?”

His mom chuckled. “They are, Dear. I know Jonathan and I are at least partly to blame.” She looked at Clark again. “So, is your wife expecting?”

Clark shook his head, staring down at the small stub of pickle remaining in his hand. “We actually can't have children.” He popped the stub into his mouth, letting it's comforting flavor lessen the hurt. “I'm not sure what H.G. Wells meant when he referred to our descendants; he was probably being metaphorical. Either that, or maybe someday we'll get cleared for adoption. But when we looked into the possibility of having kids the natural way, the test results showed that it was genetically impossible.”

His hand felt around the bottom of the jar, but he realized with a start that nothing was left in the brine. He looked up at his mother, chagrined. “Oh! Mom, I'm so sorry; I didn't realize how many I'd been eating!”

She smiled softly. “It's all right, dear.”

He stared at the depleted jar in disbelief. “I don't know if Claire's taste-buds are different from mine or if pickles just taste better in this universe, but they seem to really hit the spot. It almost feels like I *need* them!” He licked a drop of brine from his fingers.

Lois stilled. “You mean, like a...craving?”

Clark shrugged. “I hadn't thought about it, but I guess that's—” He froze.

His mother nodded.

His pulse pounded in his ears. Clark closed his eyes and tried to tune it out, listening for any other sounds within his body. When he heard the tiny flutter in his mid-section, he opened his eyes with a gasp.

His mom was watching him silently. He met her gaze, almost afraid to ask the question. “She's...? *I'm*...?”

“Just a couple months along, we figure. Bruce doesn't know yet.” His mom seemed to think for a minute. “Honey...” She reached across the table to put a hand over his. “Clark. If we don't find Tempus, or anyone who knows how to send you back...what's going to happen if you have to stay?”

Clark stared at her. It was a possibility he'd been afraid to contemplate when the only thing at stake was returning to his wife and parents. But, this... “No.” He shook his head. “No. I'm sorry. I can't...”

His mother looked crushed.

“Maybe we can be friends when he—or she—is old enough to understand the situation, but I can't pretend to be this kid's mom.” He slumped in his chair. “That's just a bridge too far, even for me!”

Lois shared a surprised look with his mother. “But...you'd still go through with...having it?”

He stared at her in confusion. “Well, of course. This isn't my body, so it's not really my choice, is it? I have no doubt that this kid is wanted.”

His mom nodded. “Very.”

“So who am I to destroy someone else's happiness for my own convenience?” He gingerly rested a hand on his belly. Claire's belly. If they did manage to switch back, she would come home to the life she wanted.

His mother sighed with relief.

“Of course, I have no idea what to tell her husband.” Clark raked a hand through his hair and was caught by surprise as his fingers continued to drag through the strands for far longer than he was used to. He shook his hand free.

“Just tell him the truth, Dear, the same way you told Lois and me.” His mom caught up his other hand and patted it. “He won't like the situation, but he'll be able to understand and deal with it.”

Clark looked at her warily. “You seem sure of that.”

She nodded. “I am. In fact, rely on him to help us get you home and my daughter back.”

“What kind of person is he, exactly?” Clark pulled his hand back and tilted his head in confusion. “Back home, I only knew Bruce Wayne to be a playboy and an idiot, but after what happened at the Planet, I'm not sure what to think!”

His mom studied Lois for a moment before turning back to him. “He's the man my daughter chose to share her life with. Her whole life: all of it. You want me to trust you about Lois; trust us about Bruce Wayne.”

“Fine. I'll go see if I can find him.” Clark pushed his chair back and stood.

She held up a hand. “You won't need to; he's coming here.” At his shocked expression, she smiled. “You're not the only one who comes to us when there's a crisis. He'll be needing his parents, and as of last year, that's Jonathan and me.”

**********

His father's pickup truck rumbled up the driveway. Clark thought he heard two people inside, but when the kitchen door opened, only his dad entered the house. He paused in the doorway, staring at Clark, then immediately rushed forward and pulled him into a bear hug. “There's my little pumpkin! Honey, you've had everyone so worried!”

“Uh, hi Dad.” Clark awkwardly returned the hug.

His mother turned away from the sink, wiping her hands on a dish-towel. “Jonathan, we've got a strange situation going on.”

“How strange?” He loosened his grip on Clark, lightly resting his hands on Clark's arms and studying him with a worried expression.

“Child-in-a-cornfield strange.” She nodded towards Lois, who was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.

His father's eyebrows climbed. “Lois Lane? What brings you here?”

She grimaced, setting her cup down on the table. “It's a long story, Mr. Kent. It's better if I let Clark explain.” One hand motioned towards Clark.

“Who?” His dad followed the motion, only to look down at Clark with a confused frown.

His mother shook her head and rested a hand on his dad's shoulder. “Never mind, it's complicated. For now, let's just say that Lois is in on the family secret.”

“WHAT?!” His head snapped up to gape at Lois.

Clark took hold of the other shoulder. “It's okay, Dad. We can trust her.”

He stared at Clark. “Pumpkin, what's going on?” The worried frown began to deepen.

Clark winced. “It really is complicated. I'll tell you everything, but I think I should talk to Mr. Wayne first. Was he the one in the truck with you, just now?”

His dad's eyebrows flew into his hairline. “*Mr. Wayne*? Claire?!”

“Is he here?” Clark pressed.

“Uh, yeah.” His dad pointed in the direction of the old barn. “He was really worked up, so he went straight to the barn to tackle that old tractor.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Clark went to the door and took a deep, steadying breath before heading out to find the man who'd married his counterpart.

The door closed behind him just as his mother spoke. “It might even be weirder than the cornfield, Dear.”

**********

Footprints in the snow led from the pickup truck to the barn, just as his dad had said. Their course took him past the woodpile, where his and Lois's own steps were still plainly visible, and it seemed Mr. Wayne had taken a few steps towards that trail before turning and moving on. Hopefully, his mom was right about Mr. Wayne being able to understand this latest craziness.

The footsteps ended just at the barn door. It hung slightly ajar, creaking in protest when Clark pushed it further open and let a shaft of daylight bisect the shadows. The tractor was propped up on cinder-blocks beneath a hanging work-light, though the light itself wasn't on. His dad's toolbox lay in the middle of the floor. “Hello?” Clark stepped inside. “Is anyone here?”

A faint “pop” went off in his ears, and Clark's limbs suddenly felt stiff. A startled yelp escaped him just as his entire body went rigid. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't move; his muscles wouldn't even respond.

Shadows moved at the edge of his sight, and a figure stepped into his peripheral vision. Clark tried in vain to turn his head. Eventually, the figure circled around between him and the tractor, and Clark could see plainly who it was. Tempus grinned. “Hey, Clark, how's it hanging?”

Clark couldn't force his jaw to work.

Tempus strolled up to Clark and leaned against him as though he were a pillar. “You know, I really had such high hopes for this plan: change history in two worlds with one little swap. It was brilliant! And at first, it even seemed to work: imagine how excited I was when I skipped ahead a few centuries and found out there was war in the future, instead of that insipid Peace Council!”

He held up a strange metal tube, tossed it in the air, and caught it in his hand again. “Tragically, it turns out that what those morons call 'war' is really just a glorified game of freeze-tag!” He scowled at the tube, tucked it into his pocket, and turned his glare onto Clark.

“This is getting very tiresome, Kent. It seems that no matter what I do, your goody-goodiness keeps infecting the rest of the world! Trying to kill you as a baby didn't work. Kidnapping your wife didn't work. Trapping you in a time pocket didn't work.” Tempus stepped back and reached into the inner pocket of his vest. “But then, I remembered the words of the greatest philosopher of the twentieth century:” His mouth curled into a sadistic grin as he pulled out a revolver and leveled it straight at Clark's head. “'Why don't ya just shoot him?'”

A wooden pole slammed down onto Tempus' wrist, sending a flash of green just past Clark's head with a thunderous blast. The revolver dropped to the floor as the time-traveler clutched his hand. Bruce Wayne stepped into the light, turning the pole so that the long, metal tines at the other end were now right under Tempus' nose. “This is a pitchfork.”

He swung the handle of the pitchfork into Tempus's leg, eliciting a fresh howl of pain. “Years ago, my father-in-law gave me a very detailed lecture about its uses.” The fork's handle now swept into the man's stomach, and Tempus, already having to balance on one leg, fell backwards onto the floor of the barn. “Specifically: how it can be used on anyone foolish enough to hurt his little girl.”

Bruce stood over Tempus and speared the massive tines into the floor, barely missing the man's inner thigh. “Let's see how well I was listening.”

**********

When the brutality was over, Mr. Wayne fetched a coil of rope down from the wall and began expertly tying Tempus with it. Given that the man was now unconscious, it was probably an unnecessary precaution. Clark tried to call out to the billionaire, but without a functioning tongue, the pitiful sound that escaped his throat bore no resemblance to words.

“One moment.” Mr. Wayne fastened the last knot and gave a satisfied grunt. Afterwards, he stood in front of Clark, looking him over. “Let me see something, here...” He took Clark's arm in both hands and very carefully flexed it at the elbow. “One for yes, two for no: did that hurt?”

“Uh-uh,” Clark managed.

“Do you feel anything?”

“Uh.”

“Good.” He released Clark's arm and resumed his study. “He said war became a game of freeze-tag. That must mean they use non-lethal weaponry. Paralyzing someone permanently wouldn't be much different from killing them, and bullets would be cheaper. So, either there's a way to undo the effect, or...”

Clark managed to work his jaw.

“...it eventually wears off.” He folded his arms and met Clark's gaze. “Mr. Clark Kent, I presume?”

“Uh, yeah.” His limbs were still rigid, but at least now his mouth could move, and the arm Mr. Wayne had manipulated was slightly less stiff than the other.

His eyes narrowed. “That explains a lot.”

Clark lowered his head, but the effort for a full nod was a bit too much. “I'm sorry for causing you trouble. All this must have driven you up a wall.”

Mr. Wayne stared at him for a moment, blinking, and then a laugh burst out of him. “Now *that* is more like how my wife would behave.” He sobered quickly and met Clark's eyes again. “How do we get her back?”

Clark turned his head towards Tempus. “He's the one who swapped us, so unless my friend Wells can find me, he's the best bet for putting us back.” His eyes slid back to the supposed playboy. “You, uh, really did a number on him, Mr. Wayne.”

“Bruce, please.” He sighed, and his hands clenched and unclenched. “It's been...a long time since I watched a stranger pull a gun on someone I care about. I admit it's not something I can handle very well.” He looked at Tempus. “Of course, now it seems we're going to have to wake him up somehow, so we can have a little chat.”

Lois's voice reached them from the door of the barn. “Any way I can help?”

**********

Bruce threw a bucket of cold water onto Tempus's face. The man sputtered, groaned, and slowly opened his eyes. “Auntie Em, is that you?” His gaze darted over the three people in the barn, and he groaned again. “Great. Just great. I've got Brainless, the Man of Rust, and a psycho who needs to ask the wizard for a therapist.”

Lois stepped forward, crossing her arms. “Tempus, right? You seem to have upset a very dangerous man. Now, Clark over there tells me that you love violence, but I bet there's still an exception for violence directed against you. If I'm wrong, though, then Clark and I can simply leave.”

Tempus's eyes widened and flicked up to Bruce. His voice became a squeak. “What do you want?”

“I think you know.” Bruce leaned against the pitchfork and loomed over the bound time-traveler. “He wants to go home—” He pointed to Clark. “—and I want my wife back. Now, either you're the man who can make that happen, or you're just a man who made me very, very angry.” His eyes narrowed. “Which is it?”

“The first one! The first one!” Tempus swallowed. “There's a beacon... It's more like a homing device, really. I disabled it when I escaped...”

Bruce shifted his grip on the pitchfork.

He spoke faster. “But I can fix it again and then Wells or somebody will come and I-can-swap-them-back-I-swear!”

Clark met the inquiring looks of the other two. One shoulder was finally loose enough to sort of shrug. “He seems to be telling the truth. It would be easier to tell if his heart wasn't racing from panic.”

“Hrm.” Bruce glared down at Tempus again. “It could be a trick.”

“No tricks!” Tempus wriggled a bit in the rope, but it didn't give. “If you don't trust me to swap them, Wells can do it himself when he gets here. We shop from the same catalogs. All I need to do is fix the beacon.”

Bruce's glare deepened. “Right. So we untie you, and the so-called 'beacon' turns out to be a weapon or a method of escape.”

Lois stepped forward. “Maybe I could fix it. Get the device off of him and have him tell me what to do.”

“Lois, no!” Clark forced one arm to move slightly towards her. “If something goes wrong, you could get hurt, or lost in time, or even killed!”

“Don't worry about it.” She nodded towards Bruce. “I've got some pretty good insurance, right here.”

Bruce turned to Tempus, his grip on the pitchfork visibly tightening. “Well?”

Tempus whimpered. “I'll tell her what to do. It'll be fine.”

“Fine then.” Bruce looked back at Clark.

Clark sighed. “Fine.”

Tempus closed his eyes. “Utopia's Re-Harmonizing Center had better not be showing Green Acres in the rec room again.”

**********

After an interminably long time, Clark was finally able to move from the spot he'd been standing in while the others worked on Tempus's device. He stretched, took a few aimless steps, and sighed with relief. “That was unpleasant.”

The work-light shone brightly down on the tractor. Lois sat in its seat, staring down at the pieces in her lap as she tried to fit them together the way Tempus had described. Clark walked up to her and rested a hand on the tractor's frame. “Do you want me to take over, in case it's dangerous?”

Bruce's voice cut in before Lois could reply. “No.”

Lois glanced at Clark. “I can get it.”

“But I'm invulnerable,” Clark pointed out. “You're not.”

Lois looked up from the device again and met his eyes. “Tell you what: how about we bet one of your mom's homemade pickles that I can do this?”

Her meaning was clear: it wouldn't be just his own life he'd be risking for hers. Clark slowly nodded and backed away from the tractor.

Some time later, they all stood in the glow of the work-light, staring down at the device in Lois's hands. She took a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing...”

Bruce pulled Clark further back as Lois clicked the last component into place. Nothing seemed to happen: nothing glowed, or beeped, or hummed. Lois frowned. “Did I do it right?”

The hairs on the back of Clark's neck began to tingle, and he whipped around. The space in front of the barn door shimmered slightly. All at once, the light began to bend in all directions. A glowing blob coalesced into the shape of a sleigh, and the time machine appeared.

Clark's attention snapped to Wells' passengers, particularly the familiar-looking man in spandex seated behind Lois. “You!”

“You!” They spoke at the same time and raced towards each other, meeting half-way. “You're in—”

“—my body!” They turned to the elderly gentleman dismounting from the machine. “Mr. Wells—”

“—change us back!”

Wells held up a placating hand; the other gripped a somewhat-familiar device. “Quite right, quite right. Now, do hold still; this won't take but a moment...” He fiddled with a few dials. “Let's see now...there.”

Space bent and shifted around Clark. When it stopped, he was taller and standing next to a dark-haired woman. He looked down at himself, patting his body with his hands to ensure it was real. In the corner of his mind, he was aware of the woman doing the same. “It worked! I'm—”

“—me again! Bruce!”

He grinned up at his wife and sped towards her. “Lois!” He gathered her into his arms and kissed her, savoring every second of it.

When the kiss finally broke, he set her back down on her feet, his hands still resting lightly on her hips even as hers still cradled his jaw. She ran her thumb along his cheekbone and looked into his eyes. “There's something you should know: someone else knows the secret, now.”

Clark looked towards the back of the barn, where the real Claire was still indulging in her own reunion with Bruce. “Let me guess: playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne?”

“Batman, actually.” She jerked her thumb towards a corner by the door, where a dark figure in a cape and cowl stood shuffling awkwardly next to her counterpart. Lois shifted her gaze to the couple behind Clark and frowned. “Wait, Bruce Wayne?”

Clark raised his eyebrows at Lois. “Batman?” He thought for a moment. “That...explains a lot, actually.”

The other couple finally drifted towards them, each with an arm around the other, and Claire reached her free-hand out towards Clark. “Um, hi. I'm Claire Wayne.”

“Clark Kent.” He shook her hand, keeping his other arm wrapped around Lois. “It's nice to finally meet you. Your husband is...full of surprises.”

She smiled at Lois. “And so is your wife.” Claire turned towards the other Lois, who was now standing alone. “Lois, I owe you an apology. And probably a few explanations. Is it all right if we talk, later?”

The other woman shrugged. “Well, I suppose I can spare a few minutes for the jobless trophy wife.” A smile took the sting out of her words. “Sure, we can talk.”

“Thanks. As for you...” Claire sped to a patch of shadow and wrapped her arms around the figure hiding there. “Thank you for everything!”

While Bruce Wayne strolled off to have a word with the man his wife was hugging, Clark turned to his wife's counterpart and pulled her into a quick hug as well. “Thank *you* for everything.”

“Don't mention it.” She gave a sheepish smile.

“If there's anything I can do to repay you,” Clark began.

The other Lois shook her head. “You already gave me back my best friend. I'd say we're even.”

Lois slipped her arm back around Clark's waist and smiled at the other woman. “Thank you for helping mine.”

**********

The old song lyric was true: there was no place like home for the holidays. In the townhouse on Hyperion avenue, the morning sun danced over the ornaments on the tree, making them sparkle. The scent of his mother's gingerbread wafted from the kitchen, and both she and his father were on the sofa laughing heartily at the argument unfolding on the living room floor.

“In what universe does Lois Lane *not* want to go first?” Clark drew himself up into a kneeling position and held the box out towards Lois again, giving it a slight shake so that it rattled enticingly.

Lois leaned away from him, nearly bumping into the lower branches of the tree, but kept her grip on the smaller, foil-wrapped box. Her eyes glittered with mischief. “Oh, I do want to go first. I'm *giving* you your gift first, see?”

“Aha!” Clark laughed. “The truth comes out. All right, I'll open it...”

“HA!” Lois grinned triumphantly and thrust her box in his direction.

Clark smirked. “...after you open yours.”

Their battle was interrupted by the phone ringing. After exchanging a look with his wife, Clark stood and went to answer it. “Hello?”

“Kent?” The gravelly voice on the other end was familiar.

Clark's eyebrows rose. “Bruce?!” Lois and his parents looked up at him in curiosity.

“Yes. I won't keep you long. I just...” There was a pause. “Given the recent situation, it seemed appropriate to call and make sure that you were having a good holiday.”

At once, his mother was on her feet. “Is that the man you and Lois told us about?” She crossed the living room even as Clark nodded, and she put her hand out for the phone. “Let me speak to him.” As soon as Clark relinquished the phone, she brought it to her ear. “Hello, this is Martha Kent.”

“Ah, hello, Mrs. Kent.” Bruce sounded surprised.

His mom smiled. “Martha, please. Listen—Bruce, right?”

“Yes?”

She glanced at the others in the room. Lois and his father nodded. Clark, sensing the idea, added his agreement as well. His mom turned her attention back to the phone. “Bruce, I don't know what your plans are for today, but if you have time, we were hoping you might be able to join us for Christmas dinner.”

“Well, Mrs...um...Martha.... That is quite an honor, but I...” There was another long pause. “...I suppose, if it wouldn't be intruding...”

She waved a hand even though he couldn't possibly see it. “Oh, Honey, after everything you did to help bring my son home, you're more than welcome here! Now, we were thinking of serving around one o'clock; would that work out for you if Clark gives you a lift?”

“Um...yes?”

“Great!” She grinned. “We'll see you later, then. In the meantime, have a merry Christmas, Bruce!”

“Ah, and you as well.”

She thrust the phone back into Clark's hands and smiled at him before returning to the couch.

Clark brought the phone back to his ear. “See you soon, Bruce. Merry Christmas!”

“...Merry Christmas.” The phone clicked, and the dial-tone began to hum.

Clark set the phone down on the end table and resettled himself on the floor by the tree, putting an arm around Lois. “Well, that was a nice surprise.”

“Very.” Lois snuggled against his side and raised the box so that its ribbon brushed against his nose. “And speaking of surprises, open your present!”

He tilted his head back and laughed. “All right, I give!”

“No, *I* give. You get!” Lois grinned impishly at him.

“Fine!” Still chuckling, Clark took the box from her hands. Lois watched him intently as he tugged the ribbon away and pulled apart the lead foil. The plain cardboard box gave no indication of its contents. He lifted the lid, finally exposing a coffee mug.

“A...coffee mug?” It was a perplexing choice for a Christmas present, but any gift from Lois was still a treasure to be cherished. He pressed a kiss against her temple. “Thank you, Honey. I'll be sure to use it every morning!”

She chuckled. “Look at it and tell me what you think.”

“All right, let's see here...” He lifted it out of the box and read the slogan on its side. “World's Greatest Da—” He broke off.

Lois slipped her arms around him. “Merry Christmas, Clark.”




_And A Happy New Year_

Earth

It was on a sunny Monday morning that a well-rested Lois exited the elevator and, with her customary energy, moved rapidly down the ramp into the newsroom. She was wearing a charcoal pinstripe pantsuit with a lavender silk blouse. The outfit’s excellent cut and tailoring announced to the world that she was ready to take on anything the week had to offer.

“Any word from Henderson?” she called out to Perry as he exited his office.

“Great shades of Elvis! Slow down, Lois! Where’s the fire?’ Perry said, with not a bit of anger. He loved how determined a certain reporter sounded tearing through the newsroom.

Over by the new coffee station that Franklin Stern had just purchased for the bullpen, Talmadge offered, “Henderson contacted me on Sunday evening. Simcoe was not at his apartment when they sent over those uniforms Friday night. Detectives Javier and Beckett, as well as that writer fella was with them.”

Lois put down her briefcase and said in disbelief, “Beckett was with them, and they failed to catch him?”

Jimmy said from the coffee station, “Wow! Kate Beckett is one of the best detectives on the force. She must be annoyed at missing a chance to bag Simcoe!”

Talmadge walked over to her desk while stirring a cup of coffee, the smell of his fresh hazelnut brew threading around her. “There is another alternative. One that none of us are going to like.”

“Simcoe is dead?” Perry said flatly.

Lois muttered softly about people grandstanding while drinking flavored coffee as she booted up her computer. The monitor sprang to life with the Daily Planet’s colorful logo appearing on the screen.

Talmadge took a long sip from his cup and said, “Yeah, something like that. Bill Church, Jr. is not as ‘understanding’ as his father. If he suspects that Simcoe was going to be a problem, he might have decided to make that ‘problem’ disappear.”

“Wait a second! Why did Henderson contact you and not me?” Lois said suddenly, more than a little peeved.

Perry, who had started walking towards Cat’s desk, turned back to them, and said, “What’s this Lois? Bill Henderson didn’t get in contact with you. What’s going on? He’s your best ally on the MetroPD.”

Talmadge leaned over Lois and said softly, “He tried to, both on Friday night and most of Saturday, but you never picked up the phone. I knew you were with your family because that’s my assignment. Care to let your, um… our boss in on the secret?”

Lois groaned. After leaving Clark’s apartment Saturday morning, she went to her parent’s home for a visit. Lucy was there as well, and when one thing led to another, she ended up spending the day with them. Being with them was a great way to put the worrisome message from New Krypton out of her mind, at least temporarily. She knew that Perry was only asking because he cared. It could not hurt to let the chief know her whereabouts.

“Perry, as you know, with Clark … away, family time is important to me, so I was with them for most of the weekend. But that still doesn’t explain why Henderson didn’t leave a voice mail on my machine! There must be some kind of boy’s club connection going on!” She grumbled.

Perry shoved his hands in his pockets and said to the hapless duo. “Listen, it doesn’t matter who Inspector Henderson didn’t call, but it matters why he did call. Find out what happened to Simcoe, otherwise the connection to Intergang is broken and your follow-up story is as dead as Elvis.”

At that moment, Lois’ phone rang shrilly on her desk. She snatched it up quickly, listened briefly and then said, “Detective Reed? Great to hear from you, especially since Bill seems to have lost my phone number.” She was silent for a moment and then breathed excitedly, “No kidding? Simcoe’s in MetroGen under police protection? Guarded condition? Can I see him? What room?” Lois pulled out a pencil and a pad of paper and wrote hastily.

Only seconds after Lois started talking to Detective Reed, Talmadge’s phone also started ringing. He took the call and with his usual quiet manner, talked to the person on the other end of the line, wrote down notes, and then hung up almost around the same time as Lois.

“Who called you? Henderson?” she asked sharply.

“No. My section chief, Harold Zhao. Apparently, Mr. Simcoe was attacked by a low-level Intergang thug on Sunday morning just as he was going to the supermarket. He was under protective custody by the Metropolis police, but the FBI has taken over that detail as of ten minutes ago. Detective Reed and Inspector Henderson are probably being informed even as we speak.”

Lois glared at Talmadge. She was about to yell at him, but thought better of it and said, “That is a little high-handed, don’t you think? If it were not for courageous Dr. Siebert, his patients and my story, the Bureau wouldn’t have a clue about Intergang. Now they are telling MPD to simply hand the case over to them?”

Talmadge shrugged and said, “In my world, that’s the way things go. Still, if we hurry, we can get a statement from Simcoe, which will dovetail neatly into the article. Despite having sustained two gunshot wounds, he’s ready to turn state’s witness for a shorter prison sentence. He’s even willing to do it without an attorney present! Considering all the help you have given; Agent Zhao has given permission for you to come along and listen in while he asks questions.”

In answer, Lois shut down the computer, stuffed her notes in the briefcase, threw on the heavy orange jacket she had just discarded, and raced up the ramp, only steps behind Talmadge.

***

MetroGen’s large, airy central lobby was a flurry of activity as the two reporters walked up to the main reception area. Several people sat on long, dark couches, thickly upholstered in
heavy-duty industrial gray fabric, as they waited for their turn to visit ailing loved ones and friends. As Lois and Talmadge approached the reception area, an orderly pushed a young Asian woman holding a tiny sleeping newborn in a wheelchair. They were followed by a small entourage of family led by a smiling young man who had to be the father. Lois watched as the group exited the lobby to the outdoors, eager to face this new chapter of their lives. Lois wondered if she and Clark would ever have such a privilege.

The reporters presented their press badges to a silver-haired volunteer who spoke in a genteel Virginia accent, “I am sorry, but a press badge does not permit access to the Intensive Care Unit right now. The police department has closed it to everyone except emergency patients.”

Before Lois could speak, a familiar voice reached her ears, “Good to see you Lois, even if it’s for work. Why do I have a feeling you have something to do with the ruckus taking place in the ICU?”

Lois turned around and saw Clark’s oldest friend from Smallville, Dr. Pete Ross standing by the desk. The powerfully built man, wearing surgical greens and a stethoscope hanging around his neck, came over, gave her a hug, and smiled down at her with warmth and affection.

“Are you just leaving a surgery or preparing for one?” she asked with a tiny smile.

“Neither. I’m getting started with my rounds. Wearing this outfit rather than a shirt and tie only makes me look more official.”

“Hopefully, those patients appreciate that they are in the care of the best Neurosurgeon in Metropolis!”

Pete was about to reply when he took note of Talmadge standing close to Lois, as if he were protecting her from some perceived threat. The doctor’s normally affable blue eyes turned suspicious, and he said to her, “Who’s your friend?”

“Uh, this is my temporary partner, Paul Talmadge.”

She introduced the two men and watched as they sized each other up like a couple of prizefighters. Pete, she knew was doing it in defense of his friend, but why in the world was Talmadge acting so protective? Surely he did not think someone from Intergang would attempt to harm her in MetroGen? Besides, at this point, they should be more concerned about Simcoe’s safety than hers.

Pete nodded slightly, comprehending a great deal with those few words. He looked at the receptionist who was respectfully watching the exchange and said, “Mrs. Harness, Miss Lane is a friend of mine, she and her associate can go upstairs. I suspect Detective Reed and Agent Zhao are expecting them.”

The older woman looked concerned, “Ah… are you certain Dr. Ross? I was given strict instructions by Dr. Yanos. The Director of Administration told me not to let anyone except the police or FBI agents into ICU.”

Pete rolled his eyes. He and Yanos had a long history together. The man was a glorified general practitioner and a general pain in the butt. Not someone he had any intention of fearing.

"Oh yeah… Dr. Yanos. I’m certain, if we don’t let them go upstairs there will be more trouble … but not from administration. Guess what? I have a patient to see up there, so I’ll accompany them to ICU.”

“Yes, doctor.” With those reassuring words, the receptionist produced special passes with a red-edged border for Lois and Talmadge. “Please wear these at all times while in the ICU. The patient’s location is written on the pass. A police officer will meet you at the elevator.”

The walk down to the bank of elevators was conducted in silence as was the ride to the twelfth floor.

When the heavy metallic doors flew open, they were stopped by a burly, uniformed police officer with a beefy red face and a no-nonsense attitude. He held up his hand and barked in a rough voice, “Only authorized personnel from the MPD and the FBI at this point. Get back downstairs!”

Talmadge growled, “My name is Paul Talmadge. We have passes, permitting us to be up here.” He didn’t want to reveal his association with the Bureau of Investigation.

Pete said, “I’m Dr. Ross. I have a patient on this floor suffering from Trigeminal neuralgia. These people were …”

The officer cut Pete off, refused to listen, and then said, “That fancy medical lingo doesn’t interest me. Repeat. Go back downstairs!

Before another word could be spoken in protest, a woman’s voice cut through the air and echoed around the corridors, which had both MPD uniforms and federal agents standing by stairways, supply closets, and elevator banks. “Let them through Kevin, if you don’t want to see your name and poor conduct mentioned in Lois Lane’s story tomorrow.” Jerking her thumb in Paul’s direction she said, “This is Agent Talmadge, who works for Agent Zhao.” Detective Reed said harshly in her Texas accent that brooked no nonsense.

The cop, his face flushed with embarrassment, wisely stepped aside, but not before he gave the trio a suspicious look.

“Detective Reed! Thanks for getting us past the over-zealous traffic cop.” Lois said as the group walked down the corridor.

“No problem, Lane, just remember this the next time it’s necessary for me to talk to you off the record,” the detective said with a smirk.

Pete tapped Lois on the shoulder and said, “This is where I leave. Time to attend to my patient; thankfully, it was a simple procedure and he’s recovering. At least the poor guy doesn’t actually have trigeminal neuralgia. I only said that to get us past the policeman.”

Detective Reed shuddered and said, “That sounds painful.”

“Yeah, it’s a severe facial pain—perhaps one of the most excruciating pains encountered in medicine. Trigeminal neuralgia is a chronic condition that causes sudden, extreme burning or jolting facial pain that lasts for up to two minutes. The intensity of the pain can be frightening and physically incapacitating. Sadly, I have gotten a few cases with this condition and the patient just wants relief.”

“That’s terrible! What is the cure?” Lois asked.

“MetroGen is among a few hospitals in New Troy to provide the level of care required for the treatment options for this debilitating condition. We are also the only hospital in the region that offers the Gamma Knife radiosurgery technology for treating this condition.”

Talmadge said sourly, “That cop by the elevator seems to have the same condition, except the pain is not in his facial nerves, but much lower!”

The group took a moment to realize that Talmadge had cracked a joke. Their laughter was heard down the hallway, and no doubt reached the pompous man’s ears.

Lois, understanding that Pete’s time was short, turned to the others and said, “Can you both wait just a minute? It’s important for me to speak with Dr. Ross.” They walked down the hallway as Reed and Talmadge watched.

As soon as they were out of earshot she said in a whisper, “I heard from Clark last night.”

Surprised, the big man looked around and said. “What? How?”

She bowed her head and bit a trembling lip, “A device… like a courier, brings holographic messages to me from his home planet.”

Pete’s eyes grew wide. But kept the volume of his voice down, “My God, that is amazing! Is he all right? When does he expect to come home?”

“If only we had some idea! He’s fighting an insane civil war, so nothing is certain. He’s so far from everyone he loves...” Abruptly, Lois’ brown eyes became awash with tears that she fiercely wiped away. “I’m sorry for keeping this from you Pete. He’s your oldest friend and you have a right to know. For a while there I was drowning in self-pity. His… ‘abduction’ has been difficult for everyone.”

Pete gently laid a hand on her shoulder. “This has been harder on you than all of us. Remember, you can always contact me… please don’t be a stranger.” He glanced down the corridor at the two people anxiously waiting for her. “Now you better get back to your partner and the detective. It looks to me like they are getting a tad impatient.”

Lois glanced back at them. “They can wait a moment longer. Perry saddled me with Talmadge because of this investigation I’m involved in. He’s also a genuine reporter from Washington, which makes his cover that much more believable.”

Pete chuckled. “Yeah, I was wondering what that tense guy was doing with you. Listen, if he gives you any trouble, page me.”

A grateful smile spread across her lips. “Yes, big brother!”

The expression on Pete’s face grew serious. “Clark is like the brother I never had. You are his fiancé, which kinda sorta makes you my sister. Make certain Agent Talmadge is aware of that fact. Better he tangle with me now, rather than with Clark later.”

The unspoken words between them were: If there is a later.

She nodded. “I will. It was great talking with you again. Time for me to get back to my interview.”

Pete shook his head, and then sighed. “What would Lois Lane be like if she was not tracking down a major story? Call me later. I want to know what Clark’s up to. Take care of yourself...sis. I’m going to talk to Mom and Dad Kent tonight. Now go on. Talmadge looks like he’s about to have a stroke; take my word for that as a doctor.”

With that he gave her arm a squeeze, turned, and walked down the hallway.

Lois rejoined the duo. Detective Reed said, “The big blonde guy looks familiar. Who is he?”

“Dr. Peter Ross, ER neurologist and Clark’s best friend. He was asking how I am doing.”

Reed’s face flushed, embarrassed and then quickly, “Oh, I remember him! He helped save Detective Carter last year. He’s a great surgeon! I thought he was one of the attending physicians in this case. I heard Joss Carter is finally going to marry her boyfriend John Reese. Sorry, didn’t mean to pry into your personal business, but we need to get this interview done before we put Simcoe under serious lockdown.”

Lois looked around at the number of uniforms and agents in the hallway and waving her arm at them. “What do you call this? Minimum security?”

“It’s the best we can do under the circumstances, Miss Lane. My team has been here since Simcoe arrived on Sunday,” a deep masculine voice said. “Everyone involved in this case, says that there would not be a case without your help. That’s the only reason, we are granting this interview with Mr. Simcoe. I am only sorry your fiancé, Mr. Kent, is not here as well.”

Talmadge turned and said, “Lois, this is my Section Chief, Agent Zhao.”

Before them stood an Asian man of medium build, his suit slightly rumpled, as if he had taken a catnap in it. His eyes were red from lack of sleep, yet he stood ramrod straight and greeted the reporters cordially. Lois took the man’s hand, shook it, and then said, “Thank you, Agent Zhao. Well, it looks like everyone’s here. Detective Reed, care to lead the way?”

“Yeah, time we got something started before Director Yanos falls down on us like a hammer for disrupting the patients and their routine.” With those words, she stalked down the corridor and turned left.

They came to a hallway that was full of uniforms and serious looking men and women wearing special listening devices that coiled from their earpiece down to their collars. Lois was impressed. No one was playing anymore with Intergang; if Simcoe would point his finger in the right direction, they had every intention of keeping him alive long enough to reach the witness stand.

Room E-287D had two armed uniforms standing on either side of the heavy wooden door. Upon seeing Agent Zhao, they opened the door, allowing the entire group to enter. A thin tan blanket and a white sheet covered the patient, while numerous tubes and sensors were either inserted or attached to his supine form. Simcoe, a tall man with dark curly hair, lay with his head, neck and shoulders, propped up on pillows, to make breathing more comfortable. A plastic IV cannula snaked from the bag of fluid near the bed into a vein in his arm, slender but strong fingers held in place by a pulse oximeter. He stared up at the ceiling as if there was something of particular interest to him as they surrounded the bed.

Lois couldn’t help but sense that despite being in this safe, albeit sterile, environment the man reminded her of a menacing cobra; poised and ready to strike.

Agent Zhao said, “Mr. Simcoe, we have visitors here to witness the interrogation, FBI Agent Paul Talmadge and Lois Lane and of the Daily Planet, who as you are aware has written extensively about this investigation.”

The voice which emerged from the body was surprisingly smooth, yet almost as ominous as a snake moving over its victim’s paralyzed body. “Very well. My loyalties have shifted considerably since my former employers decided to give my body… ah, personal… ventilation.”

Zhao’s face became impassive, “Mr. Simcoe, immunity is only being granted because of your cooperation. Otherwise, once released from the hospital’s care you would have been placed in the general population of New Troy Prison.”

A bitter snarl erupted from his throat. “And lose your star witness against Intergang? Don’t make me laugh!”

“You got immunity, Simcoe, quit stalling.’ Reed snapped as she pointed a red lacquered nail in the prisoner’s face.

With a barely imperceptible shrug of muscular shoulders as if to give up something of little consequence, Simcoe replied with a tight smile, speaking as if to soothe an angry child. “Temper, temper Detective Reed. One would think you had a personal stake in bringing down the Churches. Are you upset with them because they raised the price of those false fingernails? What’s the color’s name? Blood red?”

Rather than let Reed answer, Agent Zhao laid a calmative hand on her shoulder. The sharp woman fairly bristled at his touch but stepped back from Simcoe’s bedside to compose herself.
Simcoe again gave that irritating little smile, knowing he had gotten the better of the policewoman and relishing the tiny victory. “Very well, let me begin. RoxxTen was purchased by Mr. Church Sr. six years ago, before CostMart’s operations moved into the state of New Troy. Apparently, he is a prudent man and wanted all the chess pieces on the board before the illegal segment of his operations began.”

“For the purpose of laundering the profits from their illegal operations?” Zhao asked.

“Yes, that would be correct,” Simcoe answered blandly.

Lois chimed in, “But why all the neglected payments to health care providers? Dozens of patients were stuck with bills that ran into the thousands of dollars which RoxxTen was supposed to cover in their health insurance policies.”

Reed mumbled under her breath, “What happened? Somebody get greedy. Sounds like garbage insurance to me.”

Talmadge who had been sitting back listening said tersely, “Using a legitimate business for money laundering makes sense from the criminal’s viewpoint. Still, if there is no clear evidence that Bill Church himself set this whole operation in motion, everything – Dr. Siebert’s assault, Elden Kraft’s possible death and anything else they might have a hand in – will be for nothing. The Churches walk.”

With a quick turn of his head, the prisoner said, “Elden’s dead?”

Talmadge shook his head and said, “Possibly. We thought you might point us in his direction.”

Simcoe said with a touch of concern for Elden. “He’s the key to the entire money laundering operation. Charles Belfield assigned him the job as the chief accountant who oversaw the entire process. But all that money pouring in… it was too much to resist. He started embezzling funds using his considerable computer skills. Unfortunately, according to him, there was a slight error made while coding the program. Instead of removing small amounts of money from the accounts that Intergang was funneling in, somehow patients bills were not paid.”
Christine Reed looked up, “Charles Belfield? The CEO of RoxxTen? He said he had no knowledge of any problems within the company.”

Lois quickly dived into her briefcase and pulled out her RoxxTen story file. Upon finding the right page regarding her conversation with No-Knees Nolan, she said, “According to one of my sources, Belfield used to work for CostMart as one of Church’s executives. He must be an Intergang higher-up.”

Simcoe nodded. “Correct, Miss Lane. Kraft and I took our cues from Belfield, but Bill Church was the one pulling his strings. Still, if Kraft had been a little more diligent in his programming duties, all the payments would have been covered and Intergang’s little shell game of monies would have remained hidden. To all concerned, RoxxTen continues to be an ‘outstanding’ insurance company, caring for its clients and their providers.”

Looking up from the file notes Lois said, “Are you serious? All these patients and their families suffered because some guy had his hand in the cookie jar …and couldn’t get it out?”
Simcoe nodded his head slowly, “Essentially, yes.”

“Some glitch!” Detective Reed snorted. “But that doesn’t explain why you went after Dr. Siebert. After all, company service reps don’t go around threatening doctors. Did the twisted computer program tell you to do that?”

With a smirk he said, “Computers are not my field. Just as hair care is not yours, Detective Reed.”

Christine Reed’s face flushed and she took in a deep breath, the harsh sound bouncing around the hospital room. The detective was angry and about ready to verbally slice into the prisoner. Thankfully, Zhao spoke before she could.

“Computer program errors can be tracked down, although it seems far-fetched to me that it happened quite the way you say it did. Still, the Bureau has qualified experts who can verify that part of your story.”

Lois had her own computer expert, Eugene Ladermer. When they got back to the Daily Planet, she intended to give him a call.

“Agent Zhao, you are welcome to try,” Simcoe said, casually pulling a loose blanket thread. “But despite Elden’s mistake, he covered his tracks within the program very well.”

“Terrific. How are we supposed to believe this fairy tale? Elden is probably dead and with him any evidence of the numerous crimes Intergang has committed,” Zhao grumbled.

“Why not find him and ask? I spoke with him that night at Capparelli’s.” Simcoe said in a flat, deadly tone.

“Yeah?” Reed asked her interest piqued, “He’s alive? Do you know where he’s hiding?”

“No.”

Rubbing her chin, Lois said thoughtfully. “Agent Talmadge and I were outside Capparelli’s on Friday night. We saw you talking to several persons of rather dubious character which automatically breaks your probation. Maybe we can ask Bill Church, Jr.? You two were pretty chummy outside the pool hall. Did Elden have a chat with him inside? Oh yeah, why did Junior take your pool stick case? What happened? Lost it in a bet?”

Simcoe, with a nasty gleam in his eyes, rebuked her by saying. “Lois Lane on a stakeout with someone other than Clark Kent? My, my, what would your dear absent fiancé think?”

Talmadge, who up to that point had been silent, in a rare show of emotion, slapped his palm on the cheap nightstand’s white Formica top, his voice raised in volume. “Stop avoiding the questions! Lois Lane and Detective Reed are professionals in their respective fields. The former and her fiancé brought down Lex Luthor, the Boss of Metropolis and the latter put away the cunning genius who created the Ides of March computer virus program that nearly crippled the country. If you keep needling them and everyone else in this room, I am sure between us and them we can find a way to put Bill Church and his son away without your testimony. Do I make my meaning clear?”

For the first time, a touch of worry shaded Simcoe’s voice, “Crystal.”

There was a brief silence in the room before Agent Zhao cleared his throat and said, “Mr. Simcoe, as Agent Talmadge said, answer the questions. No doubt, Ms. Lane, Detective Reed, and the rest of us have more important matters to attend to than dancing to your tune.”

“Yeah, now, once again. Why did you attack Dr. Siebert?” Detective Reed said.

“I… I was under orders from someone within Intergang to make an … example of Dr. Siebert. It was felt that if one prominent physician were ‘persuaded’ to rejoin RoxxTen then the others would fall in line, not wanting to suffer the same fate.”

Lois’ eyes grew wide, and she gasped out, “You weren’t going to kill him were you?”

Simcoe remained silent.

“Will you swear to that in a court of law?” Reed asked.

He glared at her and said succinctly, “I never said anything about killing the good doctor. Why would I give away my bargaining chip? Oh, Ms. Lane, regarding my cue stick? I did lose a bet. Bill Church Jr. will have it from now on.”

Detective Reed muttered a curse under her breath and said nothing. The man once again avoided a direct question and was arrogant in the extreme. But if it were up to her, once the trial was over, Simcoe could be left to rot in the bottom of some cold, dark pit.

Before another word could be spoken, Agent Zhao said, “I think it’s time we leave, Mr. Simcoe.”

Without a word of farewell or backward glance to the man laying down in the hospital bed, they departed the room and walked down the hallway to the elevator.

“That team of federal lawyers I saw earlier downstairs wants to depose him?” Detective Reed said briskly.

Agent Zhao rubbed his eyes. The man was exhausted. The past twenty-four hours had been long and wearisome. “Yes, to find out what else Simcoe knows and to preserve his testimony. Just in case Intergang gets to him before he reaches the witness stand. The intent is to allow the parties to learn all of the facts before the trial, so that no one is surprised once he is in court. Contrary to what countless movies and TV shows would have the public believe, springing a surprise witness at the eleventh hour of a trial is regarded as unfair, even if the defendants are a criminal organization. By the time a trial begins, the parties should know who all of the witnesses will be and what they'll say during testimony.”

“We can still write up the story, can’t we?” Lois asked.

“Not yet. But you have my word that the Daily Planet will get the exclusive. As Paul has mentioned to me on numerous occasions, this investigation would have stalled without your involvement, Ms. Lane,” Agent Zhao said respectfully.

Mollified, Lane bit back a retort, and instead graciously said, “Thank you for that, Agent Zhao.” Turning to the detective she said, “Christine, we’ll talk later. Tell Henderson I’ve got a bone to pick with him.” With that, Lois and Talmadge entered the elevator and shortly thereafter, departed the hospital.

In the parking lot Talmadge said, “Let’s head back to the Daily Planet with what we’ve got; so Perry won’t kill the story.”

Lois shook her head as she opened the driver's side of the Jeep. “No, Talmadge, not just yet.”

Puzzled, by this turn of events asked, “Why not?”

“Because we have to see a man about breaking into a computer.”

Her partner looked at her and gave a small groan of concern. “My assignment is to protect you, not get involved in breaking and entering!”

“Yeah well, this is not what we learned in college or at our respective newspapers. This is all part of getting the story and putting away the bad guys. Come on, it’s time we went down memory lane…”

A sharp spike of apprehension went down Talmadge’s back. He didn’t like the tone of Lois’ voice.

Chapter 5



Chapter 6

Mountain Road

At the accident scene by the roadside, Lois and Clark observed the remains of the crashed vehicle. Clark regularly lowered his glasses to search for clues.

“Don’t you find it strange, Clark? There are no skid marks—or at least, none visible to human eyes,” Lois finished with a knowing wink.

“Rest assured, Kryptonian eyes don’t see any either. I’d like to take a closer look at the platform below where the car fell. Want to come?”

Lois glanced at her heels and tailored suit, then replied, “I don’t think I’m dressed for the occasion…”

“And since when does that stop you?” her husband teased. “Lois, I’ve seen you climb a building bare-handed in high heels. Besides, I was planning to offer you a lift. But if you’d rather stay here…”

Clark looked around, ensuring they were alone. He placed his glasses in his jacket pocket, unbuttoned his shirt with a quick, dramatic motion, and spun into his brightly colored suit. Hovering a few inches off the ground, he pretended to leave.

“Wait, wait! If it’s a first-class flight, I might be interested.”

He scooped Lois into his arms and carried her 30 meters down to the platform. The ground was scorched, a grim testament to the tragedy that had unfolded earlier that morning.


---

“This platform below is oddly convenient—like it’s waiting for crashed vehicles.”

“You’re not far off, Lois!”

“You saw something?”

“No, but I smell something unusual. It’s… ammonia.”

“And let me guess: a burning car doesn’t usually smell like ammonia?”

“Exactly. Generally, ammonia is associated with ammonium nitrate explosions. I smelled the same odor at a factory accident I attended a year or two ago.”

“Ammonium nitrate—that’s a fertilizer, right? It reminds me of an article I wrote about chemicals ending up in our food.”

“Exactly. It’s a readily available compound found on farms across the country. But if mixed with fuel, it becomes an explosive—with just the addition of a detonator…”

Clark continued scanning the area with his enhanced vision, stopping suddenly.

“…and I think I’ve found something. See that filament behind that rock? Can you think of any reason why molybdenum—a rare metal used in high-tech applications or detonators—would be here?”

“I don’t see any high-tech factories nearby.”

“Neither do I. I think we’ve found our first clue…”

“And proof that Superman isn’t responsible for this family’s tragic fate.”

Clark grimaced. “I can’t shake the feeling this was a trap for me. If I weren’t considered a threat to criminals, this family might still be alive…”

“Or not, Clark. Maybe you’ve already saved their lives ten times before by stopping other criminals. Most importantly, you can’t blame yourself for others’ actions. You didn’t press the detonator. Everyone is responsible for their own choices.”

As Lois spoke, she moved closer and wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck.

“I’m getting déjà vu,” Clark murmured softly.

“Yes, and I’ll remind you as many times as it takes.”

“I love your persistence.” He placed a kiss on her lips, and they reluctantly separated—it wasn’t the right time for Superman to be caught kissing Lois.


---

Daily Planet

Lois and Clark sat at their respective desks, each lost in thought about the case. Jimmy approached, carrying a thick file and wearing a satisfied smile.

“I’ve compiled a list of everyone who’s ever made bombs using the compounds you described,” he said, handing the document to Clark.

Clark flipped through the file, impressed by the extensive information: names of potential suspects, similar cases, and diagrams of explosives involving ammonium nitrate.

“Thanks, Jimmy. You’re a lifesaver,” Lois said with a genuine smile.

“Just doing my job,” Jimmy replied, clearly flattered, as he returned to his desk.

Leaning toward Clark, Lois asked, “So, do you think our culprit is in there?”

Clark nodded, deep in thought. “It’s very likely. If any of the names in this file have ties to Intergang, we’ve got our suspect.”

As he read, Clark’s expression hardened. Lois noticed his intense concentration.

“What is it?” she asked.

Clark frowned. “There’s a name here I recognize… Carl Bowers. He was arrested two years ago for possessing explosive materials. The charges were dropped due to lack of evidence.”

Lois nodded. “Do you think he’s connected to Intergang?”

“It’s very possible, especially if Mindy Church is behind this. She has the resources and connections to free someone like him and use him for her schemes.”

Lois sat up, her eyes sharp. “Then we’ve found our next target. Let’s track down Bowers.”

Clark nodded, though a shadow crossed his face. “We’ll need to be cautious. If Mindy’s willing to use explosives, she won’t hesitate to go even further.”

Lois gave him a confident smile. “We’ve faced worse before, haven’t we?”

Clark smiled back, but his expression remained worried.

“So, what do we know about him?” Lois asked.

“He’s a blackjack fan—spends most of his nights in illegal gambling dens,” Clark replied.

“Feel like playing poker?”

“No, Lois. You remember how that ended last time…”

Before Clark could finish, Perry called them into his office. He closed the door behind them.

“Kids, where are we on this?”

“We found materials at this morning’s crash site that led us to a man named Carl Bowers. Tonight, we’re going to his favorite gambling den to see what we can learn,” Lois explained.

“Lois, you know how dangerous that is!”

“Clark, if we want to take down Intergang, we have to take risks…”

“Lois, last time—”

Perry interrupted. “Did I ever tell you about how Elvis worried over Priscilla when she was still very young?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “He was doing military service in Germany and had to leave her behind in America. He was so worried he convinced her parents to let her come to Graceland. His overprotectiveness almost cost them their relationship.”

Perry turned to Clark. “Trust Lois. She has great instincts, and I know you can protect her. And Lois, while it’s tough dealing with your husband’s alter ego, be careful not to expose your connection to Superman, like you almost did today at noon.”

Lois and Clark were stunned into silence. Lois stammered, “Perry, no, I… I don’t have an affair with Superman! You know us better than that.”

Perry smiled. “Of course I do, Lois. That’s why I know you don’t have an affair with Superman… because you’re married to him.”

Clark ran a hand through his hair and sighed, realizing there was no longer a need to pretend.
“Lois… I think there’s no point denying it anymore. Perry’s figured it all out.” He turned toward Perry with a resigned expression. “What gave us away?”

Perry, leaning against his desk, crossed his arms, a glint of pride in his eyes.
“Clark, I didn’t become editor-in-chief of the Daily Planet for my singing talent, you know. I’ve been observing you two for years. But the real confirmation was your departure to New Krypton. Lois wasn’t just letting a friend leave… she was saying goodbye to the love of her life.” He smiled faintly. “I connected the dots, piece by piece. A real investigative job.”

Lois, arms crossed, gave a nervous smile.
“So all this time… you knew?”

Perry nodded.
“I had my suspicions. You’ve always had this ambiguous relationship with Superman, despite your engagement to Clark. And every time Clark disappeared mysteriously, you were the one making excuses. But mostly, it’s the way you look at him, Lois. That’s not the look of a woman having an affair—it’s the look of a married woman.”

He then turned to Clark.
“But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Clark nodded, grateful but still slightly unsettled.
“Thank you, Perry. It’s a relief not to have to hide it anymore… even if it’s a bit unnerving knowing you’ve known for so long.”

Perry smirked.
“Unnerving for you? Try imagining what it was like for me! Pretending not to know while you flew off to save the world… and I had to act like nothing was happening.”

Lois and Clark exchanged a knowing glance. The weight of the secret seemed to have lifted, replaced by newfound trust and understanding.

Perry let a few seconds pass before continuing:
“Alright, back to work! I need you two to figure out what we’re printing about all this Superman business. We’re not stooping to tabloid levels, but the suits upstairs are getting impatient. Our competitors are selling trash off Superman’s back, and we need to reassure our advertisers. Also, we need to focus on your infiltration at the gambling den. I have an idea for this little operation.”

Lois, surprised, straightened in her chair.
“Our operation? You mean you’re coming with us?”

Perry nodded with a mischievous smile.
“You heard me. If you want to get into an exclusive club without raising suspicion, you need someone respectable and… a little more experienced. We can’t just waltz in unprepared.”

Lois and Clark exchanged curious looks. Perry never embarked on risky missions without a solid strategy.

“We can’t go in as journalists,” Perry explained. “The members of this illegal gambling ring distrust the press more than anything. We need a strong cover.”

He stood, walked over to a map of Metropolis on the wall, and began laying out his plan.

“Clark, you could pose as a dealer. In a gambling den, no one pays much attention to the staff—especially not the dealers. They’re everywhere, hear everything, and nobody suspects them. You’d be in the perfect position to pick up on conversations.”

Clark frowned.
“A dealer? I’ve never thought of that. But, you know, it could be the ideal spot to listen to the players without drawing attention.”

Lois, perched on the edge of the desk, smiled.
“And what about me? I’m not just going to sit and watch you deal cards all night.”

Perry chuckled.
“No, Lois, you’ll be the wealthy client. You’ll pose as a newcomer—someone with money to spend and connections to make. With your talent for slipping into any role, you’ll be able to draw Bowers and his associates’ attention.”

Lois nodded, pleased with the idea.
“I like this plan. And you, Perry? Are you going to play the big shot or stay in the background?”

Perry grinned mischievously.
“I’ll be your mentor. I’ll pose as an old regular showing you the ropes. I’ve got my own contacts in these circles, and it’ll let me blend in without attracting too much attention.”

Clark, still a bit skeptical, added,
“But we’ll need to be very careful. If anyone recognizes us or discovers our true identities, the whole thing could fall apart.”

Perry nodded gravely.
“That’s why you both need to prepare. Clark, you’d better practice a little before you find yourself behind a blackjack table. And Lois, you’ll need to perfect your role as an ambitious businesswoman. You’re our best shot at uncovering Bowers and his network.”

Clark took a deep breath.
“Alright, I’ll figure out how to get some quick training. And I assume we’ll also need solid fake identities.”

Perry nodded.
“I’ll handle that. I’ve got some contacts who can get us fake IDs without raising suspicion. This is a dangerous mission, but if we want to put an end to this charade, it’s our best shot.”

Lois looked at Clark with a sly smile.
“So, ready to don a new disguise… or rather, to deal some cards this time?”

Clark smiled back.
“Let’s see if I’m as good a dealer as Superman. Guess we’ll find out.”

With the details ironed out, they left Perry’s office. The night ahead promised to be full of surprises, but they knew that together, they had a chance to pull off this daring infiltration.

Marriage of State
By AmandaK

Chapter 2

Lois didn’t move as the doors slid shut, leaving her alone with her new husband. She couldn’t take her eyes off the large bed in the center of the room.

This couldn’t be right. They were supposed to have a reception, weren’t they? She was sure her father had mentioned a reception following the ceremony and the signing of the treaty. They should be eating hors d'oeuvres and sipping champagne right now, bumping elbows with foreign dignitaries, posing for photos, smashing cake into each other’s faces – okay, so that one probably wouldn’t happen, but all the rest… they should be there. Not here.

Anywhere but here.

Because she was definitely not ready for this.

She could feel her heart pounding so hard that she wouldn’t be surprised if Kal-El could hear it. That was one of their weird powers after all, wasn’t it? Super-hearing?

She tried to recall if anyone had mentioned the “honeymoon” beginning right after the ceremony. She had never finished reading that list of rules. It was probably on there – likely just before the one at the end which had first caught her attention. But she hadn’t read that part. And now here she was, in the Bridal Chamber, expected to submit and consummate.

Not ready at all.

Kal-El moved next to her, swiftly unwrapping the golden rope from around their arms, and stepping away. He carried the large cup of wine to a small table off to the side of the room and set it down. Then he stood, staring out into space through the room’s lone window. His shoulders were tense and he took several deep breaths.

He’s nervous too. Lois reminded herself. It made her feel minutely better. Then she mentally scoffed at her own thoughts. What did he have to be nervous about? This was his culture, his ceremony, his world. She was the stranger here. She was the one expected to submit herself to his every whim – not the other way around. And yet, here he was – ignoring her, dragging this out when they both knew what was expected of them.

Well, Lois wasn’t going to stand for that. She didn’t want this to take any longer than strictly necessary. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

Of course, she couldn’t exactly tell him that. She supposed she would have to learn to speak Kryptonian soon enough but right now, the language barrier was seriously hampering things. Maybe that’s why he was ignoring her. Maybe he didn’t know what to say to get things started.

Not that this needs words, she thought. She’d seen enough movies and read enough romance novels to know that talking was not strictly necessary for what they were supposed to be doing here. One of them just needed to make the first move.

After another minute of standing in complete silence, Lois realized it was going to have to be her. Her husband hadn’t moved save to taking a few more deep breaths. Come to think of it, she hadn’t moved at all either. She was still standing where he had left her, in front of the door.

She willed herself to move.

She took a few steps toward him and his head turned, looking back at her over his shoulder. Lois froze and gulped. He was staring at her now, his gaze deep and intense, his lips parted slightly as though he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what to say.

Lois took another deep breath and nodded to herself. They’d be stuck in this staring contest for hours if she didn’t do something. As much as she would like to put this off indefinitely, she knew she was only delaying the inevitable. Eventually he would initiate and might become frustrated after waiting for so long.

Maybe if I just show him that I’m not going to put up a fight, he’ll take charge and get this over with. Even as she told herself that, another part of her rebelled at the thought of not fighting this. But she had agreed to the marriage and consummation was part of that. Maybe after today she could rebuff his advances, but if she didn’t do this now it might affect the treaty and all of this would be for nothing.

Don’t think about it, she coached herself. Just get it over with. But those thoughts didn’t stop her hands from shaking as she started to work the clasps keeping the front of her robes closed.

She looked down at her robes, grateful for the excuse to break eye-contact with her Kal-El. This was it. She was about to give herself to a man for the first time. At least she could say she waited until marriage… it was little consolation when she wasn’t in love with the man she had married. She didn’t even know him, had never spoken to him. Their very first interaction was going to take place on their marriage bed. If only she could get this darn clasp undone…

Suddenly, his hand was on her wrist. She froze, terrified. Had she done something wrong? Maybe he wanted to be the one to undress her. She felt a tear track down her cheek (when had her eyes filled with tears?) but didn’t dare try to brush it away. Slowly, she lifted her face, expecting to see anger in his eyes.

She couldn’t help the gasp which escaped her lips when their eyes met. He wasn’t angry. He was… concerned? Confused? His brow was pinched together in the middle and his lips pursed in a slight frown. He shook his head slowly and gently pulled her hand away from the front of her robes.

“No,” he said.

“What?” Lois breathed out the word, barely able to get it past the lump in her throat, and yet unable to not voice her confusion.

Kal-El shook his head again. “No. You don’t have to… I mean, I don’t expect… We don’t have to do anything.”

Lois blinked and allowed herself to feel a modicum of relief but kept her guard up. Was he really saying what she thought he was saying? They didn’t have to… consummate? But she was pretty sure that was required for all of this. “Aren’t we supposed to…?” she started to voice the question but trailed off as he stepped away and released her wrist.

He shrugged. “Technically, yes. But you and I are the only ones in here. No one else needs to know what does or doesn’t happen.”

“So… what happens in the Bridal Chamber stays in the Bridal Chamber? That kind of thing?”

“More or less.” Kal-El smirked as though he understood her vague reference to Las Vegas and that’s when her brain finally caught up to her.

“Wait a second – you speak English?!” Lois asked, pointing an accusing finger at her husband.

Kal-El looked taken aback for a moment. “Well… um, yes?” He offered her a sheepish grin as though he hadn’t realized that she didn’t know he spoke English.

For some reason, that small smile seemed to break the tension which had built between them the moment they’d stepped into the room. Lois threw her hands in the air and began walking around the room (what little space wasn’t occupied by the bed). “Well, that’s good to know. Here I was thinking that we would have to spend our first year of marriage miming to each other. Might have been nice if someone had mentioned to me that my future husband actually spoke English.”

She finished her speech and turned back to him. He was still smiling, but his mouth had parted ever so slightly and his eyes were wide, giving him a look of wonder which somehow made his handsome face even more charming. Lois shook her head. This wasn’t the time to ogle at her husband’s face.

“What you were saying before,” she jumped back in as though she had never stopped talking. “You mean we really don’t have to…” she trailed off, waving a hand in the general direction of the bed.

Kal-El shook his head. “No, we don’t.”

“No one is going to be looking for… I dunno… blood on the sheets or something like that?” she pressed the issue.

“I certainly hope not,” he replied, grimacing. “Although we might want to toss some pillows around and throw back the bed spread at least… just to keep up appearances for the cleaning crew.”

Lois stopped pacing and considered her new husband for a moment. He wasn’t anything like she expected. For one thing, he had an excellent grasp of English with something like a midwestern lilt to his accent. None of the other Kryptonians spoke English so well. Even Jor-El was more stilted and formal in his speech. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Kal-El was human.

And then there was the whole not consummating the marriage thing. She had thought she was supposed to submit herself to him. She’d been prepared to do it… sort of… okay, so prepared was a strong word. But now he was saying all that mental anguish she put herself through wasn’t necessary?
“Why?” she asked, without elaborating.

Kal-El raised an eyebrow. “Why what?”

“Why don’t you want to…” she waved her hand at the bed again.

Both of his eyebrows shot up this time. “Do you?!”

“No!” Lois insisted. “I’m just surprised that you don’t.”

“I’m not really comfortable with the idea of being intimate with a complete stranger,” he admitted, looking away.

“Really?”

“Yes.” His eyes shot back to hers. “Why is that surprising?”

Lois shrugged. “Isn’t this what you Kryptonians do? Arranged marriages and all that? Being intimate with a complete stranger is kind of how that goes.”

Kal-El shook his head and wandered back to the window. “That’s not how it usually works. Most of the time marriages are arranged at birth. The bride and groom grow up together and are often good friends before the bonding ceremony. And not all Kryptonians have arranged marriages anyway. Mostly just the upper class and even among them, there are exceptions.” He paused as though contemplating his next words. “I never wanted one for myself.”

Lois scoffed. “Really? Then why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Why marry me?” She lifted her arms, gesturing to the room and their entire situation. “Why go through all of this if you never wanted an arranged marriage?”

Kal-El turned slowly, considering her for a moment before replying. “I should think for the same reason that you married me. For peace.”

Lois’ eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed skeptically. “I didn’t think Kryptonians cared about peace.” She paused barely a moment and didn’t give him a chance to respond before she barreled into another tirade. “I mean, you appeared out of nowhere and without so much as a ‘live long and prosper’ or ‘take us to your leader’ you start attacking our cities and towns, killing our people, claiming our world for your own. If my father hadn’t weaponized Kryptonite when he did, we’d all be kitty litter. And you only stopped attacking because, what? Your dynasty changed? If Kryptonians really cared about peace you ought to have risen up against Nor years ago instead of letting so many people die. And now you’re finally agreeing to leave us alone but only if we get married?! What kind of backwards, misogynistic society is this anyway? ”

Lois took a deep breath to calm herself down. She hadn’t meant to unleash all of her pent-up frustrations on Kal-El. He’d actually been very kind and friendly towards her and probably didn’t deserve the full force of her anger against his people. She was fairly certain that he hadn’t had a direct role in the war and, given his young age, probably didn’t have any political sway either.

But he was still Kryptonian. He was one of them.

Lois would never say that she hated their entire race for what they had done. That wouldn’t be fair. But it was very difficult to not be angry with every last one of them. And to be finally able to vent her anger and tell one of them what she really thought – well, it felt pretty good.

Kal-El, for his part, took her rant in stride. His eyebrows were drawn together and his mouth was turned down. He closed his eyes briefly, when she seemed to be finished, and took a slow breath. “I can see why you feel that way. You’ve seen the suffering on Earth, just as I have. And you’re right. The Kryptonians had no right to try to take Earth the way they did.” He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Jor-El, my father, was furious when he learned what Nor was doing. He tried to rally the council against Nor and there were many who might have been willing. But we are fairly certain that Nor threatened their families – not directly of course. He didn’t do anything which might be traced back to him. But the threats were real enough. Several assassins were sent against our family as well, though they were all captured or killed.”

He glanced up at her, as though to gauge her reaction. Lois simply crossed her arms in front of her chest and frowned. It sounded to her like most of the council were a bunch of cowards. Surely if they had all stood together against Nor…

“You see, Kryptonians are scared.” Kal-El continued almost as if he’d been reading her thoughts – though she was fairly certain mind reading wasn’t one of their powers. “Less than one percent of the population was able to escape when Krypton exploded. They are terrified that any fighting amongst themselves will lead to the complete collapse of Kryptonian society and they will become scattered – homeless travelers through space with no people to call their own. The council believed that, so long as Nor was in power, any dissension would lead to just such a collapse. It was only as his reign was coming to an end that they felt secure enough to stand against him.”

Kal-El shook his head before Lois could speak again. “It’s not an excuse. They never should have attacked Earth. I’m just saying – Kryptonians aren’t usually a warlike people. They value peace and fellowship. Unfortunately, fear can make people go against everything they stand for.”

Lois dropped her arms and let her immediate anger roll away. Staying angry wouldn’t do either of them any good. He was right about fear – human history was also full of occasions where fear drove people to do horrendous things. It was never an excuse but maybe it could at least bring… understanding? Closure? She wasn’t sure there was a right word for it.

Tilting her head to the side, Lois took in the form of her husband. He sat on the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. His gaze was fixed upon some spot on the carpet and his mouth drawn in a thin line. He looked sad and maybe… maybe a bit angry as well, as though his speech had been as much for himself as it was for her.

She thought back to his words and suddenly realized that he seemed to distance himself from the Kryptonians in the way he spoke about them. It was subtle but… “You speak as though you aren’t one of them.”

Kal-El looked up, surprised, and then smirked self-depreciatingly. “Sometimes, I wish I weren’t.”

Lois took a deep breath and crossed the room to the window Kal-El had been looking out of before. There was nothing to see but empty space but it gave her a moment to rearrange her thoughts. Here she was, talking to a relative stranger who was now her husband – though not fully, thank goodness – and berating him for a war he’d had no part in. None of this was his fault. She was sure they’d talk about this subject more in the future, but for now they still had the rest of their wedding to attend to.

Turning about to face him once more, she offered a small, hesitant smile. “So, since we’re not going to… you know,” she began, gesturing to the bed once more. “Should we go to the reception?”

Kal-El stood and shrugged with a smile of his own. “We should probably wait a bit longer… for appearances sake.”

“Right… and we should mess up the bed too, you said,” Lois reminded him.

“I can take care of that,” he replied. Then, in a blur, the throw pillows were tossed to the floor, the bedspread crumpled at the foot of the bed, and the sheets sufficiently mussed. A moment later, he stood before her again, as casually as if he had never moved.

Lois blinked. She’d seen Kryptonians use super speed before but never for anything so… domestic. “Wow… that’s useful.” Kal-El just shrugged in reply. “So, what should we do now?”

“I figured we could get to know each other a bit,” he answered.

“Being married to a stranger is a little odd,” Lois agreed. “So, I guess we could start with… well, what do I call you anyway? Milord Kal-El?” She mock curtsied causing her husband to wince and grin at the same time. “Or perhaps Your Grace? Your Highness? Your Majesty?”

At this point he laughed but his face looked pained. “Please stop.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not a prince.”

Lois shrugged but grinned. She decided right then that she really liked his laugh and his smile. Those were two things she could definitely get used to. “You might as well be. Your father is the First Lord. You live in a space palace and wear fancy clothes. All you need is a horse and you’d be just right for a Disney movie.”

“I don’t think a horse would do well out here.”

“You’re probably right.”

“As for what you can call me – Kal is fine or…” he paused a moment, then shook his head. “No. Kal works.”

“Okay…” Lois said slowly, confused by the weird pause, but she shook it off. “And I’m Lois.”

“I know.” Kal grinned. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

***

Kal couldn’t stop looking at his wife. He’d thought she was beautiful the moment he saw her. In another universe, he might have approached her and introduced himself, perhaps invited her for coffee and taken the time to get to know her. But their first meeting had been hindered by immediate matrimony and duties to state. He had forced himself not to stare at her, to at least appear focused on the ceremony while his thoughts vacillated between how worried he was about his impending marriage and how utterly breathtaking his bride was.

When they’d first entered the bridal chamber, he hadn’t known what to say. He’d busied himself with the rope and the cup and staring out the window just to give himself time to gather his thoughts. They hadn’t gathered very well. And then he’d heard her move and looked back at her. She was gorgeous. His mind had gone blank again.

It wasn’t until her pounding heartbeat broke through his sensitive hearing that he had realized how frightened she was – she did a fairly decent job of hiding it. But her hands had been shaking ever so slightly as she tried to open her robes. That was when his brain finally registered what she was doing and why she was so afraid.

After those first awkward moments of conversation – her uncertainty about what he expected and confusion over his speaking English – she had suddenly bloomed into a vibrant force to be reconned with. Even her rant against all things Kryptonian had been something to behold. She was so full of life and passionate about what she believed in.

And once she had moved past her anger and begun teasing him about his title… Kal couldn’t help the dopey smile he was sure was plastered over his face. She was fun. She was smart. She was a breath of fresh air.

The Kryptonian women he knew, outside of his immediate family, were all the same – quiet, polite, always in control of their emotions. But Lois… Lois was something else.

“So, what do you do?” she asked, continuing the task of getting to know each other. “Besides being ‘not a prince,’ I mean. Do you have a job?”

Kal shook off his distracted thoughts and focused on what she was saying. “Uh, no. I’m actually still completing my studies back on New Krypton. What about you?”

“Just finished my freshman year at Metropolis University.”

“What do you study?”

“Well, mostly core classes this past year but I’m majoring in journalism.”

“You want to be a reporter?”

Lois nodded and smiled confidently. “I’m going to be an investigative reporter for the Daily Planet.”

“That’s a great newspaper.” Kal replied.

“You’ve read it?” Lois looked surprised and with that surprise seemed to come a reminder of where she was and why. She wilted. “Well, that’s what I was going to do anyway… I don’t suppose they have newspapers on New Krypton.”

Kal sighed and shook his head, already missing her smile. “No. They have regular reports put out by the government but nothing like the newspapers on Earth.” He wished he could say otherwise, if only to make her smile again. “I’m sorry. You’re giving up so much. It isn’t fair.”

Lois shrugged and seemed to close herself off. “It’s what I have to do. For peace, right?” The smile she offered then didn’t quite reach her eyes and the confident light in them had gone out.

Kal felt an ache in his chest as she put on that brave face and he wished there was something he could do to make this right. But before he could come up with anything else to say on the subject, Lois plowed on.

“What about you? What are you studying?” she asked, sitting down on the edge of the messed-up bed.

Kal hesitated a moment before sitting down beside her with a fair amount of space between them. “Oh. Uh, political science, with a focus in foreign affairs.”

Her head tilted slightly and Kal had to force himself not to smile at the cute mannerism. She seemed to want to know more about his choice, so he continued. “It’s my intention to become the next ambassador between New Krypton and Earth.”

Lois blinked rapidly as she processed his words. “Wait, really?”

Kal nodded.

“So, what does that mean?”

“It means that when I finish my studies in three years, I will apply to become an aid to the current ambassador and then, a few years later, I will take over his position.”

“You’ll come back to Earth?”

Kal nodded. “Only the ambassador and his aids are allowed to stay – per the treaty. Becoming the ambassador, myself, will allow me to return and, since you are not Kryptonian, there is no reason why you wouldn’t be able to come with me.”

He watched as hope seemed to kindle itself behind her eyes and he longed to give it another push and see her fiery spirit reignite. “There’s also no reason why you couldn’t resume your own studies when we return. You don’t have to give up your dreams forever.” He reached out to touch her hand, reassuringly.

As soon as their hands touched, a spark seemed to jump between them. Lois lifted her gaze to meet his and he was sure she had felt it too. He smiled and, after a moment, she did the same.

“Three years,” she said finally. “I guess I can put my studies on hold for three years – like an extended gap-year.”

Her confidence was back.

Kal was glad. He still didn’t know how being married to Lois was going to work out, but he was certain that he wanted to try to keep her smiling. At the very least, he was quite certain that they would become very good friends.

Hey, FoLCs!

Hold onto your hats (and capes) because we’re heading into the 27th Annual Kerth Awards!

Authors: Be sure to get those *completed* stories posted by December 31st, 11:59pm (boards time) for them to be considered eligible for the 2025 Kerth Awards!

Last year’s trusty Kerth Committee is ready and raring to go again this season! As a friendly reminder, your Kerth Committee is:

Kerth Coordinator — Sara/KSaraSara
Technical Coordinator — Darth Michael
Volunteer Coordinator — JadedEvie
Activities Coordinator — lovetvfan
Technical Advisor — Annette
Advisor/Consultant — KathyB

We're very excited for this team to be at the helm again, and we’re especially grateful to our advising team. Annette, with her decades of experience in running our sites, is always available when we need her brilliant advice, while Darth Michael oils the machine that is our Kerth infrastructure. Lovetvfan coordinates the Kerth adjacent activities leading up to the Awards, and JadedEvie organizes the volunteer efforts, like the award presenters at the ceremony. That brings us to our fearless leader and ceremony host, KSaraSara, and her dedication to keeping the spirit of the Kerth Awards alive in this decade. And finally, KathyB offers unparalleled expertise, as she was part of the original K-Com.

But there’s more Kerth love to share before the ceremony itself! We need the help of lots of FoLCs to work with the K-Com to organize and present the ceremony. We’ll be posting some specific needs over the next few weeks, but start thinking about how you’d like to join in the fun this year. We’ll need big- and small-time commitments — everything from creating banners to presenting awards at the ceremony.

And this starts with category selection! The K-Com reviews the categories list every year to ensure it best fits the body of work that our authors have submitted in a given year. For instance, a larger than average batch of Super-Short Stories gave us the Micro-Short Story category, to ensure a better proportion of awards to fit the influx of stories that were that length/size. But your feedback is important, too! Is there a great new category out there just waiting for an award? Is there a category in use that should be renamed, rethemed or just put out to pasture (at the Kent’s farm, of course!)? Give us your suggestions, thoughts and hopes for categories down below in this thread (and get those comments in by Dec 31 for consideration!).

Last year’s 2024 Category List was as follows:
Best Micro-Short Story (1-5kb)
Best Super-Short Story (6-10kb)
Best Short Story (11-50kb)
Best Mid-Length Story (51-200kb)
Best Long Story (201+kb)
Best Comedy Story
Best Dramatic Story
Best Waffy Story
Best Revelation
Best Episode Adaptation (rewrite/fix-it/in-betweenie)
Best Elseworlds/AU Story
Best Kiss
Best Original Character/Supporting Character
Best Challenge Response
Best Nfic
Best New Author
Best Overall Story
Best Commenter/Feedback Giver
Best Original Fanart

Keep an eye out for another post coming around New Years in which we'll share the Kerth Season timeline! The timeline will include opening dates for activities, like last year’s writing challenges and quizzes, with chances for everyone to participate in the award season!

We're so excited to get rolling on this next Kerth Award season!

Have a question? Ask it here! Or you can PM any of the K-Com members or reach out on Discord too! You can also send an email to us here: Kcom@kerthawards.com

The Kerth Committee
(Sara, Michael, lovetvfan and Evie)

Nor's Lair


Taz-Al, one of the men who participated in the raid at Ur Collective, positioned himself outside the door to Nor’s office. For all the fellow’s bulk and strength he was uneasy about entering the room. Notwithstanding the fact that the raid secured a little more than half of the supplies needed, Taz-Al was still certain his leader would be happy with his news of their captive. He said cautiously, “My Lord Nor?”

The rebel leader stood brooding at an expansive holograph of New Krypton’s red sun beating down upon a dessert area bordered on two sides by a ridgeline of red stone, a sharp boulder strewn incline, which would be nearly impossible to climb. Abruptly, sensing the other man’s presence, Nor snapped off the hologram turned to Taz-Al and growled. “Report! How many of the Viper ships did we lose?”

“Only one. The ship shot down by Mar-Ur’s son.”

Nor said in an grudgingly respectful undertone, “How ironic that Mar-Ur’s son is the one to destroy a much needed resource. This younger generation is going to be the death of me. What else?”

“Oya-Ti, the pilot using anti-grav chair, ejected from the ship. He landed close to where Dar-Ur’s ship came down, he saw a man dragging himself away from the wreckage. He was badly burned and had a broken leg. It only took a moment for Oya-Ti to signal one of the departing freighters to swing back and retrieve them.”

Nor’s eyebrow went up. “It is good Oya-Ti did not end his life. I have a very definite use for Mar-Ur’s offspring.”
“Oya-Ti thought we should bring him in for questioning.” Taz-Al swallowed nervously. He wondered if Oya-Ti might be punished for crashing the ship and returning with the man who shot him down.

A leaden quiet, like the ancient banners that decorated the room, hung between the two men. Nor’s hands were bunched into tight fists, he walked to where Taz-Al stood and studied the younger man’s features, a sheen of sweat broke out over his face, yet he did not back down.

Nor thought, one thing could be said of Taz-Al, he had backbone. In a soft tone, more menacing than his usual rumbling voice he asked, “Taz …what do the men say about this raid? Be honest.”

Taz-Al looked at his leader and put a firm tone in his voice and straightened his posture, his days as a former guardian apparent. “Victory didn’t take place at the Ur Collective. In the past we have had better results. We draw closer to the capital and soon our forces will destroy it!”

Nor touched the scar on his face and said flatly, “Yes we draw closer. But how soon is soon? Destruction of Kandor is not our main goal. Have we not spent moon rounds re-shaping this metal barren planet? I want to rule, return our people to their rightful traditions, but not over the remnants of a devastated city. This conflict has lasted long enough. I shall end it with one decisive blow. There will be no question as to whose bloodline will rule.” Abruptly he changed the subject and asked, “Where is Dar?”

“The infirmary, my lord.”

“Good. I am impressed he has survived this long. His strength will serve me well. Have his healer prepare him for travel. Inform him that he shall also accompany us in case of ‘medical complications’.”

“Travel?” Taz-Al said, failing to conceal the surprise in his voice.

“Yes. Have him ready. Prepare one of the Viper ships. Make sure Oya-Ti is the pilot. This time, he best be careful not to get shot down.”

With a quick bow, a relieved Tay-Al departed from the room.

Nor activated his communication pip and contacted Jen-Mai, the obsequious member of the Convoca had best answer, he needed to know where the current First Lord was.

***

It was early evening, the gentle illumination of the twin moons radiated down upon the hovercraft as it moved silently past the gates leading to Abondar-El. In the past seeing the beautifully designed gates of crystal and black stone meant home, comfort … family, now Kal-El only felt dread. Alura’s message had been urgent. After they had spoken with Kara to comfort her regarding Dar-Ur’s disappearance, Zor-El collapsed. Cla-Le was there now trying to stabilize his condition. But from the tone in Alura’s voice, the end could happen at any time.
The hovercraft stopped in the main courtyard, Kal-El exited the vehicle and mounted the wide steps to the double doors. Old Vaylor stood at the entrance and bowed, he said, “Good Evening my Lord. Lady Kara awaits you in the garden. Her mother and Healer Cla-Le are upstairs with your uncle.”

“Thank you, Vaylor. Please continue with your duties.”

With another bow, Vaylor disappeared into the house while Kal-El walked through the living area and into the garden, there he found his cousin. Standing, looking out over the dark landscape. The last time he had been here was a family dinner, Dar-Ur, and some of his friends from the Ur Collective were in this very garden. Kara stood with her parents also talking with confidence about their plans once Nor was caught, the war end and they could go back to their lives as cultivators. The energy and joy of that day reminded him so much of Terra, his own friends and most of all of Lois.

It was bright and cheerful with red sunlight pouring its heat and rays over the foliage that reminded him so much of the Tuscan landscape. Several of the iconic plants of Terra such as rosemary, lavender, and Italian cypress matched some of the Kryptonian variety. The natural stone, terracotta planters and low walls reflected the Mediterranean colors beautifully in the warm sunshine. It was a place to eat, gather and let time slow down for the inhabitants to reflect on the joy of one another’s company. Now the place seemed drab, the ebullient laughter silenced, and Kara was alone.

He felt awkward approaching her, wondering what words to say. No reports had reached him regardless of a diligent search, informing him as to whether Dar-Ur was found … either dead or alive.

She turned and looked at him and even with the low light from the house, he could see dark smudges under her eyes, she had not been sleeping of late. But when Kara spoke her voice was firm. “Thank you for coming Kal-El.”

“I …I am sorry about Dar-Ur. We will find him. You too are close …”

She bowed her head and said, “At one time he was more of a brother than a friend. As children we roamed around the grounds of our homes discovering different plants and animals. He and my brother, Narn-El would often pretend to play sword fight or aerial combat games. I guess that’s why he developed a love for those occupations."

“Wasn’t he interested in working the land of Ur Collective?” Kal-El asked.

A beaming smile spread over her lips, “Oh yes! He loved the land and studying better, and more efficient methods of increasing crop yield was something he could talk about for hours. The three of us were always testing the soil samples of Ur Collective and Abondar-El. Narn-El had plans to help him build an experimental separate vineyard for the famous Ur ice wines. Dar’s father would never allow him to touch the main vineyard. Sadly, my brother died before all their plans could become a reality.” Her voice became soft as her mind filled with unvoiced memories.

“I wish I could have met him.” Kal-El said.

“Yes. I think the two of you would have been close friends. After my brother’s death Dar and I were inseparable, over time our friendship matured into something richer and deeper. We decided to talk with my parents first; inform them of our feelings for one another.”

She touched the delicate gold chain at her throat and pulled out a crystal pendant bearing the symbol of Ur house. Its colors were celadon and lavender.

Recognizing it as the Kryptonian version of an engagement ring he couldn’t hide his pleasure. “Bonded?” Kal-El said softly. He felt his cousin’s pain anew and wished it could be removed.
“Yes. Sadly, that hardly matters now …” She looked upwards towards the window leading to her parents’ sleeping chambers.

Kal-El gave Kara a gentle look and said consolingly, “It does matter. Dar-Ur was to be your husband, that …that fact must be acknowledged.”

“Acknowledged? Cousin, so many have been injured or perished in this madness. What good will acknowledgement do? It could not bring my beloved back.?” The words were bitter as they departed from her lips.

Kal-El sighed deeply, Kara was in pain, grieving for the possible loss of Dar-Ur and now her father’s health had taken a terrible downturn.

Before he could answer, his aunt entered the garden and spoke. “Zor-El is calling for you nephew. This situation with the attack on Ur Collective and Dar-Ur’s disappearance weighs heavily on him.”

Kara took a few steps towards her mother and said, “Father mustn’t strain himself! Surely cousin Kal-El and I can handle the situation with assistance from Grandmother Lo. He has given so much to our people …” The younger woman’s words trailed off as her voice broke.

Placing a consoling arm around her daughter’s shoulders she said, “Your place Kara …is here with your father and I. Please Kal-El, go to him. Cla-Le is upstairs as well, once you leave, he will give Zor-El a mild sedative so he can sleep.”

The odd inflection of Alura’s voice spoke volumes. Vaylor stood nearby ready to Kal-El to his uncle’s sleeping chambers. As he made his way out of the garden and into the house, an insistent humming noise teased at the edge of his hearing, but he ignored it.

He stepped into a simply decorated room in the center of which was a large bed, its occupant, the former First Lord lay quietly, his body surrounded by medical instruments. They had not known each other long, but the younger man had come to love and respect his uncle, the last living link to Jor-El. Kal-El fought hard to hold back tears.

“Come closer, nephew. I heard about the attack on Ur Collective and my daughter’s fiancée’s brave defense of his family’s home. The young man shows much promise. Optimistically, he will be found whole and safe.”

“Uncle, don’t worry about that. Save your strength. All of us need you.”

A rasping sound escaped Zor-El’s lips, but his voice was surprisingly strong and firm. “Kal-El, as much as I wish that were possible …as you can see my days of assisting yourself, the Convoca as well as my dear family are coming to an end.”

Kal-El reached out to the older man, taking his dry, withered hand in his strong one in an effort to provide comfort. He wanted time to speak, but the words evaporated on his lips. Instead Kal-El, once known as Earth’s Man of Steel, wept.

“So much …like your father are you Kal-El.” Zor-El said haltingly. “He tried to conceal his emotion, sadly it was a task which yielded little success for him. Our father knew that Jor-El’s future role as First Lord would depend on controlling them.” A faint smile played across Zor-El’s lips. It is one of the reasons Lady Lo and her husband, the late Talc-Ve were not in favor of bonding their daughter to him. “But your mother would have no other. Considering her mother, the stubbornness comes naturally to her.”

Kal-El, grateful to his uncle for changing the conversation and allowing him to get his emotions under control, asked, “What other reason could there have been? Surely, bonding my mother to a man who would someday be First Lord was incentive enough.”

“Jor-El was more scientifically inclined than politically.”

Kal-El chuckled, “Being emotional and scientific rather than political. Now those are certainly good reasons to halt a marriage.” He thought about some of the differences between himself and Lois. They worked to overcome and sometimes even rejoiced in their differences.

“Your maternal grandparents came from a different era and with both having military backgrounds your father, despite his future prospects, did not impress.

“As you are well aware, marriage alliances among the elite are motivated not only politically, but genetically as well. It is why Zara was chosen as your future wife while still in your cradles.”

Considering how much grief his marriage bond had brought to him and Lois, Kal-El said bitterly, “My parents should not have done that. I could have remained on Terra …Earth and lived peacefully with Lois.”

Zor-El shook his head and said, “At that time it was the prudent thing for Lara and Jor-El to do.”

A contemplative quiet fall over the room. Kal-El was pleased to hear this bit of family history about his parents rocky road to a successful marriage. After all he and Lois had endured just as much to have their first date, it was probably an El family characteristic. Another time it might have been humorous, but with Zor-El’s life ebbing away he wanted to have a serious discussion about New Krypton’s future. Nor’s actions were that of a desperate, cornered man and such people were inherently dangerous.

As these thoughts moved through his mind, Zor-El said, “The raid against Ur Collective was an act of desperation. It speaks volumes about Nor’s supplies, they may not be dwindling but they are getting low. He wishes to both bolster his troops and frighten the general populace by attacking so close to the capitol.”

“I saw the reports, the ships guarding the freighters were of the new Viper class. Sixteen of those ships were manufactured from Ordnance division. Oddly, only twelve are still in our possession. Young Dar-Ur destroyed one, so Nor have stolen the remaining three in his control.”

“Dar-Ur did that? My daughter has chosen her future bondmate well. I pray he returns to her.” Zor-El said with admiration.

A tiny smile came to Kal-El’s lips, “He flies with the same recklessness as his swordplay.”

“Doubtless he learned that and more from Tre-Vil. As a younger man, on Krypton, the Master Guardian had a fierce temper. During duel of honor, Tre-Vil’s sword sliced through the skin and shattered Nor’s cheekbone.”

Kal-El gave a low whistle. He knew the Master Guardian as a man who held himself in tight control and could not imagine him wielding a sword with wild abandon. “What set him off like that?”

“It is never wise to speak ill of a man’s late bondmate. Belena was a devoted and loving wife. In a fit of temper, Nor was foolish enough to say something that put that loyalty into question. Tre-Vil challenged him to a duel and nearly killed him for the insult. If Dever had not intervened, the Master of the Sapphire Guardians would have done so.”

Again, Kal-El was surprised. “My valet, Dever?”

“One and the same. He was not always an old man. Regeneration techniques in those days were not as good as they are now. From what I understand, the healers had to concentrate on repairing the cheekbone. By the time they were able to repair damage to the skin, the scar had had time to set and stretch, he will take that mark to his grave.” Zor-El said thoughtfully.

Kal-El, although fascinated by this information, needed to get back on the subject. “Where did Nor get those ships from? It must have been recently. Jen-Mai swore in the Convoca to look into the matter and provide answers. Although what I have seen of the man does not fill me with trust.”

Zor-El made a face and said, “Jen-Mai? His …loyalty has always been questionable to me. Have someone trustworthy follow behind his ‘investigation’.”

The younger man quirked his eyebrow up and said, “What are your reasons for being suspicious?”

Jen-Mai has never fully supported myself or Polara during our tenures as First Lord and First Lady. I understand that your arrival at Kandor was not as it should have been. Jen-Mai failed to make your entrance into Kandor II the welcome home event befitting the son of Krypton’s First House. Cla-Le and others have kept me informed of his …myriad activities. Clark’s journalistic instincts came into play, he could almost feel the pen and notepad in his hands, ready to write up the story. How he wanted Lois by his side!

“Wait, why didn’t these people come to me?” He asked.

“Your focus was on more important matters such as running the government and overseeing putting down numerous raids. There are many who grumbled about Polara, yourself, and me, should all such ones be reported on? What might that have done to your confidence? No Kal-El, concentrate on helping the people through the aftermath of this latest attack. Delegate the task to someone who can slip into the Ordnance department and get to the bottom of the matter.”

“Ken-Ja?”

Nodding in agreement, Zor-El said, “Ken-Ja is positioned perfectly to find out how four of our most technologically advanced ships suddenly found themselves in Nor’s hands. Contact him before you leave here. He can quietly lead the investigation as no one else can.”

“All right, I will Uncle. Now please rest. Alura and Kara are very worried about you.”

Zor-El fingers sporadically clutched at his tunic to keep them from trembling, he said, “One last point before you go. Ken-Ja, Tre-Vil, even crusty Akak-Ar are of the old generation, they shall give their lives for our new home if asked. I do not say this lightly, use them and their talents well my nephew. It may be the difference between our civilization’s complete destruction or eminent survival.”

Kal-El nodded thoughtfully, in the time he had lived on NK, these men and others showed steadfast loyalty and courage. Once they had realized Kal-El’s determination to learn the ways of his father’s people while encouraging a gradual shift from traditions which on this world were ineffective.

“Kal-El!”

Zor-El’s eyes flashed with fear, he said, “That was Alura’s voice!”

Faster than he thought possible without his powers, Kal-El jumped up and in two strides was out the door and in the corridor. He saw Cla-Le coming up the stairs as quickly as his legs could carry him.

The healer ran to him and said, “There’s a disturbance in the courtyard. I came to get you.”

Kal-El nodded and said, “Keep an eye on my uncle. I need to see what’s happening to Aunt Alura.”

Kal-El was quickly downstairs and in the entry hall wondering where were the guards. He kept running towards the direction of his aunt’s voice in the front courtyard of the villa. Some of the servants, seeing his rushing form and grim expression, followed behind. One of their number, the family’s old cook, Melia, was brandishing a heavy metal staff and shouted, “No rebels are planting their muddy boots in my clean kitchen!”

If the circumstances were not so dire, Kal-El knew he would laugh.

They all ran through the open front double doors; the sound of their heavy boots filled the courtyard as they moved down the wide brick steps into the night. The sight that greeted them in the bright illumination of the courtyard stopped them dead in their tracks.

Light spilled over several figures, some clad in black armor, wearing the symbol of the deposed house of Il. Others wore the red and black of the house of El. Both groups of men were armed and ready to fight.

One of whom Kal-El was shocked to see. Even though they had never met, their eyes caught one another’s across the expanse of Abondar-El’s courtyard. Those dark eyes contained no mercy and stared at the inhabitants of the El estate with utmost disdain.

Nor.

He had a full head of thick, long black hair, a sharped beard flecked with gray and sharp, almost hawk like features. Behind him Kal-El saw Kara bent over an anti-grav stretcher bearing a body. By her side stood Alura, glaring calmly at Nor, her breathing under control, Kal-El was fairly certain she was, like himself fearful about why the traitorous lord was here.

For the boundless space of two heartbeats the two men stared at each other and studied the vast differences: to Kal-El, Nor embodied all that was wrong with New Krypton and he as the newcomer, was the symbol of its hope and progress.

Kal-El spoke, his words true and clear. “Why are you here?”

Nor turned and waved an arm back towards Kara, the stretcher and then at the staff he held with its white flag. “For the moment I come in peace. As a token of my goodwill, behold Mar-Ur’s son, Dar. He is unharmed by me. The burns and injuries come from the aerial battle.”

Alura spoke up, “We must let Cla-Le tend to his wounds until he reaches a regeneration chamber!”

“I did not give leave for your words, woman.” Nor snarled. “I am here to discuss matters of import with your nephew. Now, be silent or this staff’s symbolic meaning will be invalid.”
By the older man’s blunt words and aggressive behavior, Kal-El suddenly understood what his grandmother and the Convoca had had to deal with. Pushing down his anger and using a diplomatic voice he said, “Abondar is Lady Alura’s home and her family’s land, Nor. Due to the truce, she has every right to speak. What do you wish to say to me?”

Nor turned and gave Alura a cold stare, which she returned with equal coldness. Ignoring her, he looked back to Kal-El and spoke words that surprised them all. “Nor, of the house of Il, presents the challenge of Single Combat to Kal of the house of El before these witnesses, to decide who shall rule New Krypton, once and for all.”

The tension in the courtyard was beyond anything Kal-El had ever experienced. The guards from both sides dared not touch their weapons in order not to start a fight. There were innocent lives at stake, his aunt, cousin, and the servants, he dared not put their lives at risk. Nor had just challenged him to a duel …to the death. He was surprised. Everything this man had done since breaking with the Convoca was about slicing away at the government and the people of New Krypton. Now he suddenly wanted to fight with him, to end the guerilla warfare.
His lips parted and he was about to speak when Nor, cut him off.

“Boy, where were you when this planet was being colonized? What land did you till? What buildings did you assist in erecting? My family’s blood is here! Where is the house of El? Jor-El’s brother is nothing more than a shell of a man. His only surviving heir a mere female.”

“It is whispered that you love a Terran woman, that your betrothal to the Lady Zara is a sham. That if it were possible, you would bring that outworlder here to rule by your side.” He turned around and gesturing dramatically with an outflung arm said, “Shall this alien’s halflings rule this world …”

Laying his hand over his chest, Kal-El spoke, “That’s enough of your bullying insults Nor! Kal, of the house of El accepts your challenge. We fight to the death!”

Alura closed her eyes and silently began to weep. The El house steward, Vaylor, old when Krypton was destroyed, stood as straight as his ancient spine allowed. He remembered the days of Kal-El’s grandfather and knew his late master would be filled with fierce pride for his grandson.

A cool smile appeared on Nor’s lips, and he said, “The challenge is accepted. Tell your Grandmother, when it is over, my family shall finally rule New Krypton!”

“Monster” Kara whispered as she took Dar-Ur’s cold hand in hers.

Shocked silence held within the courtyard. Nor’s guards stood in rapt attention, waiting to see what would happened next between the noblemen.

A sound, small with its execution, yet thunderous in breaking the tableau. A voice strong and commanding filled the air. “My Lord Nor-Il, what you have done since breaking with the Convoca down to this very moment has been inexcusable, but this challenge shall forever place your house in shame.”

All turned to see Zor-El, with Cla-Le standing beside him. The former First Lord’s ruined body was straight and proud. He spoke using righteous indignation to propel his words. Kal-El wanted to go to him but saw Cla-Le give a tiny shake of his head, as if to say, ‘Let the man speak.’

Zor-El’ exoskeleton propelled him with greater speed than typical towards Nor, the unpleasant sounds from the exoskeleton’s gears mesh were uncomfortable to the ears and filled the courtyard as he walked down the stairs and then up to Nor until the two men were only a meter apart. Again, the contrast could not have been greater; Nor, the warrior wearing heavy black armor and bristling with health, demanding rights and privileges which were never his. Jor-El in soft gray tunic and pants, his body supported by a mechanical device, nonetheless held himself by all the dignity of his house. In that brief slice of time, none present thought him weaker than Nor, when he spoke, even the most insolent of the rebels listened closely.

“This madness you have brought down upon us is not about returning New Krypton to the old traditions. It is about your family’s ancient bitterness against mine. Instead of accepting the first Council’s decision, the men of your family with each generation nurtured resentment, allowing it to fester and grow until nothing remained but a determination to destroy not only the house of El, but everything good and decent upon Krypton.”

Nor’s eyes narrowed, and he said, “Like my ancestor, the warrior Ven-Il, before me, I refuse to accept second place.

Zor-El matched Nor’s glare, his strength of purpose like a brilliant flame intensified, rather than diminished. “Second place? The house of Il was prominent among the elite of Old Krypton. Most, if not all of your family and servants were able to escape the catastrophic event that annihilated our home world.”

Kal-El thought, how could Nor’s family survive and yet my parents died? He put the thought aside and listened as his uncle continued to reprove Nor.

“On this new world, your resolve and diligence created a thriving collective that help solve many of the agricultural challenges we all faced. The results of which paved the way to turn this once inhospitable planet into our new home.”

Alura spoke, "I remember how your dear wife was such a help to many. Her example inspired many women of the noble houses to stand up and take positive actions. Helping with the cultivation of the land and construction of homes."

“Ha! Don’t forget the atmospheric sickness that took so many. Including my wife. Her 'positive actions' did not save her. Nor said with a sneer. His words had little weight; all knew there was scant affection between the couple.

Zor-El shook his head sadly and continued, “Remarriage to a noblewoman, raising a family to carry on the house of Il and becoming a leading voice in the restructuring of Kryptonian culture after that plague were always options. Yet you squandered precious time, no doubt using it to create this ‘army’ of vandals and malcontents.” He said this while looking out contemptuously over the men wearing the Il symbol.

Some of those same men had the grace to look down at the ground, not wishing to face the elder statesman’s anger. One man, Nor’s distant kinsman, did not. Arc-Tal paid no attention to Zor-El’s words, he kept watching the First Lord, Kal-El. He wanted the outworlder dead, but there was no way while he stood in the back of other guards that he could get a shot off.

“Now you come to Abondar-El and challenge my nephew to single combat? One has to wonder why the challenge had not been issued before my illness manifested itself or my son’s death. Were you perhaps a little afraid?”

With an incredulous expression Nor barked, “Afraid of a pampered First Lord? Never!”

“Well now, we’ll never know, shall we?” Gears creaked as Zor-El leaned forward and said with a sneer, “Remember, he and I trained with Tre-Vil and have no doubt the battle between us would have been glorious. Perhaps before I killed you I would make certain that the scar on your face was not alone.” He looked at his wife and daughter standing beside the stretcher. “I thank you for bringing home my daughter’s betrothed." with a wave of his hand he snarled, "Now get off my land and take that rabble with you!”

For the briefest of moments Nor paled, regained his composure, turned, and walked away. Ignoring everyone in the courtyard. Most of his guards closed ranks around their leader and followed him to the ship. All those present watched until Nor’s party entered the craft and then flew away.

Alura ran to her husband and wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his chest. Kal-El could hear her whisper, “Bravely done my love.”

A weak smile of pleasure touched Zor-El’s lips as he looked into his wife’s loving eyes and with his last bit of strength, caressed her tear stained cheek, and then he said, “The flame shines brightest at the last ...” Than, without another word, he collapsed. Zor-El, former First Lord of New Krypton breathed his last.

Chapter 4


Chapter 5
Metropolis Bridge

When Lois parked the Jeep, a sense of unease washed over her. She stepped out of the vehicle, staring in growing disbelief at the scene unfolding before her.

The bridge, usually a serene passageway, had become the stage for an absurd spectacle. Superman, a figure of authority and control, seemed trapped in the most bewildering of situations. A swarm of women surrounded him, each playing out dramatic roles in what appeared to be a desperate performance.

Some collapsed theatrically at his feet, feigning exaggerated fainting spells with outstretched arms, hoping to capture his attention. Others clung to the edge of the bridge, shouting threats that they’d jump unless Superman immediately came to their aid.

Superman, visibly distressed, tried to maintain his composure as he managed the situation. Every time he approached one of them to stop her from falling, she would turn on him, throwing herself around his neck with an almost hysterical adoration. Some whispered words of love in his ear; others promised undying devotion. Their gestures were wild, bordering on obsession, as though they were enchanted.

Superman seemed trapped, not by his physical strength but by a situation that was completely out of his control. His movements, usually confident, were hesitant, and his attempts to calm the chaos were failing. The absurdity of the scene, where heroism turned into farce, weighed heavily in the air.

Standing a few meters away, Lois took in the magnitude of the manipulation with growing horror. This wasn’t a simple rescue; it was an orchestrated setup, a social trap designed to exploit Superman's vulnerabilities and tarnish his image.

Lois took a deep breath, determined to pull Superman out of this mess. She stepped into the growing crowd—a mix of curious onlookers, scandal-hungry journalists, and overwhelmed police officers trying to maintain order. The women continued their charade, crying, screaming for help, or threatening to leap off the bridge unless Superman gave them his undivided attention.

Clark did his best to prevent anyone from getting hurt without yielding to their advances, but every move he made seemed to make things worse. The women clung to him with desperate fervor. One had just theatrically fainted in his arms, while another edged dangerously close to the side of the bridge, screaming that she’d jump if Superman didn’t save her.

Recognizing the crude manipulation at play, Lois clenched her fists. She knew these women were mere pawns in a larger scheme, likely orchestrated by someone behind the scenes to destroy Superman’s reputation.

Pushing her way through the crowd, Lois advanced, her voice ringing with authority.

“Enough!” she shouted at the women, her voice cutting through the chaos. “I don’t know what you think you’ll achieve with this behavior, but it’s not going to work.”

The women paused momentarily, some shrinking back at the sight of Lois Lane, the fearless journalist.

“Superman is not your toy,” Lois continued, stepping forward and positioning herself directly in front of Clark, as if to shield him. “He’s not here to cater to your whims or participate in your ridiculous melodrama.”

As Lois dismantled their farce, a voice rang out from the crowd, piercing the relative calm she had imposed.

“Here’s the truth! Superman’s trapped, and it’s his mistress coming to the rescue!” shouted a male voice.

All eyes turned to Ronnie Westfield, the tabloid journalist they’d encountered earlier that morning, who smirked as he stared at Lois.

“Superman, the greatest hero, can’t even manage his mistresses without calling in the Daily Planet’s star reporter for backup!”

A murmur spread through the crowd. Cameras flashed around Lois and Superman, feeding the rumor mill. Ronnie reveled in the attention.

“So, Lois? How does it feel to defend a man who can’t help himself around other women? Is it jealousy driving you here? Or just a need to keep up appearances?” he taunted maliciously.

Lois felt a wave of anger rise within her. Her gaze darkened as she responded, her voice cold and unyielding.

“What I feel is contempt for people like you, Ronnie, who thrive on lies and sleaze to sell rumors. Superman doesn’t need me to defend him, and certainly not from the likes of you. But I have enough integrity not to stay silent when a friend is attacked unfairly.”

Ronnie hesitated, momentarily thrown off by Lois’s piercing glare, but he attempted one last jab.

“Pictures don’t lie, Lois... everyone’s seen them. Superman isn’t as virtuous as you claim, and you know it. How can you—”

Lois closed the distance between them in a firm, deliberate step.

“What I know,” she cut him off, “is that pictures can be staged, doctored, and that people like you make a living off slander. I have no doubt about the truth. Superman is a hero, and neither you nor your sordid stories will bring him down.”

The murmurs in the crowd began to subside. Some nodded in agreement; others remained skeptical. Ronnie shifted uncomfortably under Lois’s unrelenting gaze. Superman, who had remained silent until then, nodded in gratitude, his face filled with appreciation.

Taking advantage of the moment, the police began dispersing the remaining women. Order was gradually restored. Superman turned to Lois, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

“Saved by my wife, as always. Thank you,” he murmured, throwing her a grateful look.

“You’ll never need to thank me for that, Flyboy,” Lois replied with a small smirk. “But next time, try not to end up surrounded by a harem in distress, okay?”

Clark burst out laughing—a sound he hadn’t made since falling into this trap.

Daily Planet

Returning to the Daily Planet after a lunch to recover from the morning’s ordeal, Lois and Clark felt confident they could expose the staged spectacle for what it was. The footage from the bridge would undoubtedly reveal the grotesque theater of lies.

But as they approached the iconic globe of the Planet building, they were met with an unpleasant surprise. A crowd of about forty people had gathered, waving anti-Superman signs.

Switching to journalist mode, Lois and Clark began questioning the protesters.

“Superman has to leave Metropolis!” one shouted.
“He’s lost it; he’s no longer worthy of this city,” added another.
“He preaches morals, but what do we tell our kids when he indulges in debauchery?” another man chimed in.
“And while he’s having his fun, people are dying!” a woman spat angrily.

Clark felt that last remark hit like a slap. Never would he lower himself to such behavior, especially not while lives were at stake. Struggling to maintain his composure, he asked,

“What do you mean? To my knowledge, Superman always prioritizes saving lives.”

The woman replied bitterly, “I know he’s your friend, Mr. Kent, but you should try reasoning with him. He’s completely derailed. This morning, while he was ‘having fun’ at Metropolis Bridge, a family died on Mountain Road. Their car went off the road, and by the time firefighters arrived, they all burned alive.”

The revelation struck Clark like a thunderbolt. A family, dead, while he had been tied up with those women and the press at the bridge... It was as if the woman’s words stabbed directly into his heart. Lois saw the immediate guilt in his eyes and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. She could see how deeply this affected him, even though they both knew it was all part of a larger plot against him.

“That’s not true,” Lois interjected firmly, determined to defend her husband and defuse the situation. “What happened this morning was nothing more than a grotesque setup to tarnish Superman’s reputation. He wasn’t there for ‘fun.’ He was trying to help women who pretended to be in distress.”

The crowd grumbled, some nodding, others unconvinced. Clark, despite everything, felt deeply troubled. The idea that lives had been lost because he wasn’t there tore at his conscience.

“Then where was he?” a man shouted from the crowd. “Superman has responsibilities! If he can’t protect us, he should leave!”

Resentment boiled over, and Lois knew it was useless to argue any further. She grabbed Clark’s arm and whispered,

“Come on, we’re not getting anywhere with these people right now. First, we need to investigate what really happened at Mountain Road.”

Still shaken, Clark nodded slowly. They walked away from the crowd amidst furious glares and scornful shouts.


---

In the Daily Planet’s elevator, Clark seemed distant, struggling with his guilt.

“Clark, this isn’t your fault,” Lois murmured, taking his hand. “It was a trap. They wanted to distract you, and it worked.”

“But if I’d been there... maybe that family would still be alive. I can’t help but feel like I let them down,” he replied, his voice heavy.

Lois sighed, searching for the right words.

"You're doing everything you can. You can't be everywhere at once, even if you're Superman. There are people behind all this, and they're the ones responsible. Not you."

Clark turned his head toward her, acknowledging her attempt to comfort him, yet unable to shake the overwhelming feeling of guilt.

"We'll find out who's behind this campaign, and we'll stop them," she said with determination. "But first, we need to uncover the truth about this accident."

They stepped out of the elevator, resolute in their mission to uncover the truth, but a heavy weight still bore down on Clark. The path to restoring his reputation and easing his conscience felt more complicated than ever.



TOC

Author's note: There is a prologue before this. Check the TOC if you missed it.

Chapter 1

Kal-El stared at himself in the mirror and tried not to fidget as the tailor made final adjustments to his elegant, red wedding robe. The material was stiff and heavy and not at all what he had once pictured himself getting married in.

“Looking good, Brother,” a voice called out in Kryptonian from the doorway. Kal turned to see his brother Ching, dressed in his own fine robes accented in the traditional blue of the House of El.

Kal grimaced as he turned back to the mirror, eyeing the gaudy embroidery on the top half of his robes. “I feel ridiculous. I would rather be wearing a tuxedo.”

Ching chuckled as he walked up behind Kal. He waved his hand to dismiss the tailor, who bowed and left the room, and then clapped his brother on the shoulder. “You would rather look like one of those funny Earth birds who live near the southern pole?”

Kal rolled his eyes and shrugged off Ching’s hand. “They are called penguins. And a tux does not look funny – it is sharp, stylish.” He tugged on the padded shoulder of his robe, hoping to get it to sit better. After a moment he gave up. It was no use.

“Stylish on Earth, perhaps. I do not see the appeal. Besides, you look…” Ching appraised him for a moment and then scoffed. “Well, with that sour look on your face, I cannot speak highly of your looks at the moment. Come now, Kal. The robes are not that bad. They are traditional after all.”

“Something tells me my bride will not be too pleased to wear traditional Kryptonian wedding robes.” Kal sighed and walked away from the mirror, pacing the small room. “I do not know if I can do this, Ching.”

Ching leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you wish to call off the wedding?”

“Yes…” Kal froze. “No! Peace between New Krypton and Earth hinges upon this marriage. I cannot back out. I will not.” He turned and walked toward the small round window, staring out into the vastness of space.

Far below them, the planet Earth spun slowly – a bright, blue and green marble against an inky, black abyss. North America was just coming into view. It was beautiful. It was no wonder that so many of the Kryptonians wanted it for themselves, never mind the powers bestowed by Earth’s yellow sun. Who wouldn’t want to live on a world with forests and mountains and rivers and oceans and such diverse life all around? Compared to the relative wasteland of New Krypton, Earth was a paradise.

But Earth was not theirs to take. It never had been.

This treaty was only the first step in making things right after Lord Nor caused so much destruction and loss of human life. And, although it seemed ridiculous for the council to insist upon any conditions, this marriage of state was apparently their one sticking point. To fight it would be to delay the treaty and they couldn’t risk the cold war dragging on any longer. It was only a matter of time before someone slipped on either side and fighting began anew. Agreeing to the wedding was the fastest way to ensure that the war ended completely and Earth was left in peace.

“Try to relax, Kal.” Ching said, approaching him from behind again. “Arranged marriages are not so bad. I have been quite happy with mine.”

Kal shook his head. “That is different, Ching. You have known Zara since you were children. I am about to marry a woman I have never even met. I have no idea what to expect. What do I say to her?”

“Hello, my name is Kal? It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance? Something like that is usually a good start.” Ching replied with a touch of sarcasm.

“You know what I mean.” Kal turned to resume pacing. “This is not a first date. It is the first day of the rest of our lives… together!” With a frustrated groan, he sank into a plush chair and leaned forward, cradling his face in his hands. “Not even a week ago, I was not even thinking about marriage. Father promised that I would be allowed to choose my own wife, in my own time. I had intended to finish my education and begin working before I even thought about seeking a bride. But now…”

Ching frowned. “Is Father forcing you…?”

“No, no.” Kal waved off the suggestion. “He made it clear that this was my choice. I could refuse. But I know the consequences if I do. We cannot let this senseless war continue. If my getting married is what it takes, then so be it.”

“You sound like you have made up your mind,” Ching observed.

“I have,” Kal replied firmly.

“Are you ready to go then?” Ching pointed to the doorway, past which a number of dignitaries and council members were now moving to the Great Hall.

Kal sighed and stood up, smoothing his robes. “Ready? Not at all. But I am out of time.” With a deep breath, he set his shoulders back and lifted his chin. He was the son of the First Lord of New Krypton. He would play the part, even if on the inside he was trembling. “Here goes nothing.”

***

Lois Lane eyed her reflection dubiously as the Kryptonian seamstress worked quickly on the hem of her wine-colored robes. “So much for ‘here comes the bride, all dressed in white’,” she quipped to herself, knowing the other woman couldn’t understand her.

This was not at all how she had imagined herself getting married. To begin with, she hadn’t planned on getting married at all until she finished her degree and got her dream job at the Daily Planet, won a few Kerth awards, maybe even a Pulitzer. Then, maybe then, she would have been ready to think about marriage. And that’s only if she was able to find a really super guy. He’d have to be super to keep up with her.

But all of her plans went out the window when her father had approached her last week to discuss the treaty with the Kryptonians and this so-called ‘Marriage of State’ they were pushing for. At first, she’d laughed. He couldn’t possibly think she would go along with something so… so archaic. But he hadn’t tried to force her into it. He’d simply explained the position he was in and that this would be the fastest way to end the war. In the end though, it was her choice.

Not that there was any real choice to make. Her future versus the lives of countless others should the war continue? How could she refuse – even at the cost of all of her dreams and aspirations?

Now, here she was, all alone on a giant space palace, about to marry some pampered Kryptonian prince. Okay, so she technically wasn’t completely alone. Her father was here… somewhere – probably preparing to sign the treaty as soon as the wedding ceremony was complete. Leaders and dignitaries from a number of other countries were also in attendance on the palace. But civilians had been kept to a minimum out of abundance of caution. That meant her own mother and sister were going to have to watch her wedding televised back at the White House.

At the moment, with no one about but a Kryptonian seamstress and a Kryptonian bodyguard by the door, Lois felt completely alone. Neither of the women spoke any English so far as she could tell and Lois wished she had someone to talk to, if only to ease her nerves.

The bodyguard had given her a sheet of paper containing some poorly translated instructions regarding the wedding ceremony. Lois glanced at it and sighed heavily. There was no way she could memorize all of these rules in time. She wondered if they would let her hold onto the paper as a cheat sheet.

“The bride shall maintain distance two paces in behind groom approaching alter of union,” she read, rolling her eyes. “Should I bow to him as well?” Scanning ahead, she scoffed. “Oh, look. Bowing. How did I know?”

The seamstress stood and began adjusting something on the shoulder of her robe but, otherwise, ignored her. Lois figured she might as well continue her monologue. Talking felt good. “You’d think that a civilization with such advanced technology would have come a bit farther socially. This whole thing is so Middle Ages. I mean, what gives? Haven’t you people ever heard of woman’s rights?” Her question was met with silence. “Right. Well, lets see what other archaic rules they have for me. Binding rope? Okay… ceremonial cup… blah, blah, blah.”

Lois sighed and looked up at the mirror. Any moment now, she would be summoned to the Marriage Hall and she would go from being an independent, aspiring young journalism student to a married woman with no career prospects. Okay, so she’d be practically royalty but at what cost? She was losing everything she’d ever known. She would have to leave her family and her home to journey to a distant, desolate planet with a husband she knew nothing about.

She skipped down to the end of the list, to the last line which had caught her attention when she’d first scanned the document.

Within the Bridal Chamber, the bride will fully submit to husband and wedding be consummated.

Lois took another heavy breath and let it out slowly. She was not ready for that part at all. How could she be… with someone she’d never met? And she’d heard about Kryptonian men – how they treated their wives as property and used them for their own pleasure while keeping concubines on the side. She’d be lucky if he wasn’t abusive.

She shook her head to dispel the thoughts. Her father had spoken highly of Jor-El. Surely his son would be a semi-decent man, at the very least. In any case, she wasn’t about to put up with any abuse. She may have only just started Tae-kwon-do but she’d picked up a few tricks and the Kryptonians would only have their super strength until they left the solar system. After that, she was pretty sure she could take him down if she took him by surprise.

“You’ve got this, Lois,” she coached herself. “In any case, you’ve still got to get through the ceremony and the reception before you get to… that. And then I’ll just… get it over with quickly. It won’t be so bad.” She drew in another shuddery breath. “Oh, who am I kidding? I am so not ready for this.”

She looked back down at her paper, knowing she should read the parts she had skipped over before the ceremony began. Before she could resume studying the rules, however, a chime sounded from the hallway and her bodyguard stepped back into the room. From that point on there was a lot of shuffling about as she was escorted through the hall while the seamstress tried to make some finishing touch on her robe. Another woman appeared and began fusing with her hair. At some point the list was removed from her hands. Lois hoped she had read the most important parts and that she could just follow along with whatever she had missed.

They turned down another hallway and stopped in front of a door, at which point the seamstress, the hairdresser, and her bodyguard all stepped back. Lois looked at the door and then back at her bodyguard.

“Am I supposed to go in?” she asked. The other woman’s face was impassive. She did not respond. “Yes? No? Maybe?” Lois prompted further to no avail. “Okay… I’m gonna go in now. Alright?” She slowly reached for the panel which would open the automated pocket-door. When no one stopped her, she completed the action.

The door slid open with a soft woosh and Lois stepped through the opening, still glancing back at her bodyguard in case she was doing something wrong. The door slid shut behind her, cutting off further contact and forcing Lois to turn her attention to the room she had just entered.

Looking in front of her, she suddenly wished she was back behind the door.

She found herself in what she assumed was the Great Hall. The room was enormous. She’d been in some pretty big ballrooms back on Earth and this dwarfed them all. But it wasn’t the size of the room, which made her mouth go dry and her throat close up – it was the people.

She’d been to many events with her father since he’d become president. She’d stood in front of crowds and smiled and posed for pictures. But that was different. Her father had been the center of attention.

But here, in this moment, every eye in the gigantic hall seemed to be trained on her. And she hadn’t the slightest idea what she was supposed to do next. Fortunately, before she could decide how to react, the door across from her opened and a Kryptonian man stepped through, drawing all the eyes away from Lois and onto himself.

Lois also looked at the young man and her eyes widened. He had dark hair and dark eyes, a strong jaw, and a solid build. But what caught Lois’ attention was the fact that he was wearing wine-colored robes reminiscent of her own. No one else in the room was dressed this way. The humans in attendance were dressed in typical formal-wear and most of the Kryptonians wore body suits or robes in shades of black, brown, and grey. But this man wore red – like her – which could only mean…

This must be her soon-to-be husband – Kal-El.

Upon realizing this, Lois allowed her eyes to study him farther. The robe was unflattering, but the bodysuit he wore underneath revealed the shape of his arms. She had no doubt that, even without the powers of Earth’s sun, he was strong.

Her gaze drifted to his face as she tried to glean what kind of a man she was about to marry. Their eyes met for a moment and she got the feeling that he was studying her in much the same way she was studying him. Suddenly self-conscious, she looked away. She took a breath to steady herself, determined that she would not show weakness, and looked back at her husband-to-be only to find him staring at his feet.

Just then, a fanfare sounded and Kal-El lifted his head, but did not look at her. He set his shoulders back and stepped into the aisle, then waited. After a moment, Lois realized that he was probably waiting for her. She stepped up next to him and he nodded without looking at her. Then he took a deep breath and began to walk forward sedately.

Lois began to walk with him, but then she remembered one of the few rules she’d actually managed to read and fell back two paces. Kal-El faltered for a half a second and glanced back at her quickly before resuming his gait.

He seemed… nervous. Lois almost breathed a sigh of relief. He was nervous too. That was good. Or well… she supposed he didn’t like being nervous anymore than she did. But so often the Kryptonians came across as emotionless. To see Kal-El display even this small amount of trepidation, reassured Lois that she wasn’t marrying someone incapable of feeling.

As she followed him slowly down the long aisle, she considered him from behind. He was handsome at least – it was small compensation for marrying a complete stranger but she would take what she could get. Given that she didn’t speak Kryptonian and he likely didn’t know a lick of English, looks may be all they had to go on. Their marriage was off to a rocky start before it even began.

Why did I agree to this again? Lois asked herself. Right. Peace. I’m doing this for peace.

They arrived at what she supposed was the Alter of Union and knelt before some older Kryptonians in grey robes. Lois glanced at Kal-El but he kept his eyes firmly ahead, his jaw set, and his expression unreadable.

What followed was basically meaningless to Lois. A lot of words were said – none of which she understood. There was incense and a large cup of what looked like wine. At one point, her arm was tied to Kal-El’s with a gold-colored rope. His arm was warm next to hers. She looked at him again but he didn’t seem to notice.

Then they were being led away from the alter, side by side this time which was good since their arms were still bound. They stopped in front of an ornate double door. The elder said some more words in Kryptonian and handed them the cup of wine. Then he bowed and stepped aside as the doors slid open with a woosh.

Lois stepped inside with her new husband and, for the second time that day, felt her throat close up. She froze, unable to move as she stared at the room’s principal feature – a large bed.

Hi FoLCs!

Here is the update of new fic (gathered typically through the end of the month). Links at http://www.lcficdirectory.com/pgindex

New Stories:
Good Night, Lois – Fairy Dust by bakasi
Good Night, Lois - The Lost Boy by bakasi
Good Night, Lois – The Lost Girl by bakasi
Good Night, Lois – Neverland by bakasi
Good Night, Lois – A Thimble For A Kiss by bakasi
Manipulation and Destruction by Aurore
Marriage of State by AmandaK
A True Friend by Kathryn84
True Hates Kiss by 90stvfangirl

New Parts:
The Courier by Morgana
Found by SuperBek
Lois Lane's Travels by Queen of the Capes

Completed Stories:
Good Night, Lois – Fairy Dust by bakasi
Good Night, Lois - The Lost Boy by bakasi
Good Night, Lois – The Lost Girl by bakasi
Good Night, Lois – Neverland by bakasi
Good Night, Lois – A Thimble For A Kiss by bakasi
A True Friend by Kathryn84
True Hates Kiss by 90stvfangirl

New TOCs:
Good Night, Lois – Fairy Dust by bakasi
Good Night, Lois - The Lost Boy by bakasi
Good Night, Lois – The Lost Girl by bakasi
Good Night, Lois – Neverland by bakasi
Good Night, Lois – A Thimble For A Kiss by bakasi
Manipulation and Destruction by Aurore
Marriage of State by AmandaK
A True Friend by Kathryn84
True Hates Kiss by 90stvfangirl

Added to the Archive:
110 Kisses: I Need You by Sara Kraft
110 Kisses: You're Family by Sara Kraft
Behind the Trapdoor by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Better with Clark by Sara Kraft
Circus Magic by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Disappearing Tsunami by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Disillusioned by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Down The Yellow Brick Road by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Emotions Unveiled by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
End of All Illusions by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Federal Disaster by lovetvfan
Hidden Magic by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Hokiss Pokiss by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Houdini Unleashed by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
How to Escape a Straightjacket by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
It's A Kind of Magic by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Limits of Magic by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Love Potion by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Magic and Miracles by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Magic Moves by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Magic of Dogs by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Magic of Hugs by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Magic of Words by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Magical Assignment by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Magical Distractions by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Magical Encounter by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Magical Hiccups by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Magical Interview by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Magician in Distress by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
MagiKal Dilemma by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Moments of Magic by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Neither Wand nor Broomstick by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Of Crystals And Spells by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Once and Future Interviews by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Origins of Magic by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Prestige and Distractions by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Pull a Rabbit From a Hat by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Rules of Magic by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Shattered Illusions by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Smoke and Mirrors by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
That Honeymoon Magic by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
There Is No Such Thing as Magic by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
There's Magic After All by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Truths and Illusions by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Two Hearts Sawed in Half by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
What Magic Truly Is by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
What Spells the End by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)
Winter Magic by bakasi (posted under Tale of MagiKal)


Enjoy!
Dawn & the Index Crew

Meanwhile...

----------

“And I do mean a *dress* code!”

Someone was laughing. Claire's head swam as she tried to get her bearings. One minute, she'd been tracking down the waiter with the veggie platter; the next, things had gone strangely blurry and everyone had disappeared!

In fact...the entire ballroom itself had disappeared. She now stood in a small, dingy room that looked to be some kind of storage closet. Something about it felt familiar, but she couldn't think why. A man in a silvery jumpsuit grinned at her before suddenly vanishing into the ether. Claire blinked. Was she losing her mind?!

There were voices behind the room's only door, though it didn't sound like the party she'd just left behind. These voices all shouted to and over each other against a cacophony of ringing phones and humming machinery, and some of them even sounded familiar. Cautiously, she opened the door and peeked outside, blinking against the bright, fluorescent light.

Well, at least now the sense of familiarity was explained: she was at the Daily Planet, though *how* was anyone's guess. Despite the weirdness of it all, she didn't fight the smile as her eyes found Perry talking with Jimmy, apparently regaling him with a holiday-themed Elvis story while the chaos of a busy newspaper flowed around them. Lois Lane was at her desk, of course, though her hair was shorter and she seemed much more relaxed than Claire had ever seen her.

Lois looked over her shoulder in Claire's direction. At once, the woman grinned and rose to her feet. “Clark! There you are!”

Who...? Claire looked around for whoever Lois might be talking to, but Lois soon parked herself in front of her and slipped her arms around Claire's waist. “Got another Superman exclusive?”

“Super*man*? Lois, what—” Claire froze. The voice that had just come out of her mouth was much deeper than usual. She cleared her throat, bringing a massive hand up to her face as she did so. Something was very, very wrong...

Perry came up and clapped her on the back. “You alright, Son?”

“Uh....” said the deep voice inside of Claire's throat.

“Hey guys, check it out!” Jimmy grinned and pointed up at one of the television monitors on the wall. “LNN is using that photo I took of Superman bringing a Christmas tree to the Coates Orphanage!”

The news anchors prattled on about the orphanage while an image in the corner of the screen showed a dark-haired man in a costume very similar to hers. The tree he carried was identical to the one she had brought to Coates earlier in the day, and she recognized the children in the photo: little Denise was even carrying the same doll. Every detail of the scene was the same as she remembered, save for one thing: she hadn't been a guy at the time!

“...Excuse me.” Claire disentangled herself from Lois and ducked back into the storage room, closing the door behind her. Something very weird was happening. Whoever had turned her into a man obviously wanted to make it look like she had always been that way, but why? And why was everyone at the Planet going along with it?

She spun into her costume—or at least, a version of her costume—and flew out the window. There was exactly one person who could help her figure this out. If she could find him, everything would be okay.

**********

The Vreelands' estate in Gotham was still filled with music and gentle chatter, with no signs that anything was amiss. Apparently, Claire's sudden disappearance had not disturbed the evening. She closed her eyes, listening for Bruce's heartbeat; the strong, steady rhythm was some distance away from the crowd, and she soon found herself hovering over one of the snow-covered gardens just outside the house.

The naked trees still lent the area a sense of seclusion. Colored lights had been strung throughout their branches, and a burning fire pit encouraged anyone braving the cold to sit for a while on one of the benches. It would be an excellent place to land unobserved, and if necessary, it would be an excellent place for a private conversation before rejoining the party. As such, Bruce's presence here made perfect sense.

What did *not* make sense was his current conversation partner. Some curvy bottle-blonde with an undersized dress that exposed far too much to the elements was currently fawning all over him, giggling and twirling a strand of bleached hair around her fingers. Bruce actually smiled at the woman as though he were enjoying himself; he brought an arm around her, letting his hand slip down to—

“Bruce Thomas Wayne! What are you doing?!”

The man had the nerve to look perplexed! “Hello, Superman. Let me guess: crime is too low, so you've resorted to being the Fun Police?”

The hussy with him giggled.

Claire dropped to the ground, gaping. Had the bad guys gotten to him as well? Nothing in his eyes suggested that he was being coerced or even playing some elaborate practical joke on her; if anything, he looked at her as if she was a stranger. “Bruce, please, I really need to talk to you. I don't know what's going on right now, but something very weird is happening and I need your help!”

The bimbo cooed. “Brucie, you never told me you were friends with Superman!”

“Do you mind?!” Claire leveled a glare at the unnecessary third party.

The tramp raked her eyes over Claire's body with obvious appreciation. “Not at all!”

Claire folded her arms over her chest. “Well I do!”

Blondie finally took the hint and went back inside, leaving her alone with Bruce.

Claire scowled at him. “Honestly, what are you even doing with her? She's not even your type! Or does she have a doctoral thesis hidden in her cleavage? Maybe the cheap dye-job is to disguise her secret identity as Worth-Your-Time Woman!”

Bruce gave a deep sigh and stood up from the bench. “Superman, is there something I can do for you, or are you just here to ruin my date?”

“Bruce, it's me!” Claire stepped towards him and looked into his eyes, willing him to recognize her. “I'm trapped in a man's body! I need your help!”

He gave her an odd look. “I...really don't think I can help you with that.”

“Of course you can!” She lowered her voice. “Come on, you're the world's greatest detective! If there's anyone who can solve this mess, it's Batman.”

“Wait...You think I'm Batman?!” He chuckled. “Look, Superman, maybe you've been working too hard.”

“Will you stop calling me that?!” Claire's frustration was building by the second. “It's me! Claire! Your wife!”

The odd look returned. “I'm not married.”

The words hit her like a slap. She stared at him, struggling not to let herself cry. “Please, don't do this to me. I need you! Something very crazy is going on!”

“Clearly,” he agreed, mildly.

“Do you honestly not remember?!” She gulped. “Luthor's White Orchid Ball? Us? Our wedding? The cruise we were supposed to take but ended up missing completely?”

He hummed noncommittally, one hand tucking itself inside his coat. His fingers brushed against something metallic. A cigarette case began to slide from his inner pocket.

Her forehead scrunched in confusion. “Since when do you smoke?!”

Bruce froze, still gripping the cigarette case halfway in his pocket. His heart began to beat faster. He looked her over as though assessing.

She couldn't see inside the case. Clair watched him with confusion that slowly began to morph into a sense of foreboding. She lifted slightly from the ground, her own heart beginning to race. “...Bruce?”

He let the case fall back into the pocket and brought his empty hands up in front of him. “Tell you what, how about if we make a deal?”

Claire dropped back onto her feet. “What kind of deal?”

“One that should be simple for you. If you can tell me something that only my wife would know, then I'll hear you out. But—” He held up a forefinger. “If you can't, then you'll have a talk with some doctors I know. Agreed?”

She let out a breath. “Fine.”

“You have one chance.” He folded his arms, watching her through narrowed eyes. “So make it good.”

Claire nodded. Something only she would know... Briefly, she considered holding two fingers a certain distance apart, but that wouldn't cut it.

At last, she smiled: she knew exactly what to tell him. “You hate being alone.”

For a moment, he simply stared at her. The corners of his mouth began to twitch. Finally, a deep laugh erupted from him. “I'm sorry,” he managed between guffaws, “but you missed the mark on that one.”

“Oh, no I didn't.” She smiled serenely at him. “You asked for something only your wife would know, remember? So here it is: something you never even figured out about yourself. You, Bruce 'Batman' Wayne, hate to be alone. That's why you've always surrounded yourself with people like Dick, Alfred, Commissioner Gordon, and me. But because you were so afraid of losing someone else the way you lost your parents, you spent years keeping everyone at arm's length. You lied to yourself, telling yourself that you didn't need anyone and that you preferred to be alone, all while living in self-imposed torment.”

He stared at her, silent. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the color seemed to have left his face.

“Meet me at the cave,” he muttered, turning to leave. “I trust you know where it is.”

**********

“I looked up those names you gave me.” Bruce addressed her without turning as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs that connected their house to the sprawling cave beneath. Alfred was still away on vacation, so she'd popped into the kitchen for drinks.

She set the service table down by Bruce's chair, turning the tray so that the coffee was near him. He reached for the cup, eyes still on the screen of the massive computer that stretched along this section of the Batcave. “Jonathan and Martha Kent of Smallville, Kansas. Farmers. According to official government records, they have only one child: an adopted son named Clark. No mention of 'Claire Kent' anywhere.” He sipped the coffee, then blinked at it in surprise

Claire took the cup of chamomile for herself and stretched forward to look over his shoulder. A myriad of documents and photos were splayed across the screen. Their sources ranged from scans of The Smallville Post to national census and tax records, but all had been altered in the same way. “So, whoever's behind this was able to tamper with government files.”

“That's...one explanation.” He took another sip of the coffee and tapped a few keys, pulling a different set of images to the fore. “Clark Kent was reportedly found as a baby, presumed abandoned...”

She nodded. “Mom said I couldn't have been even a year old when they found my spaceship.”

He was quiet for a moment before moving on. “Enrolled in the 4H club, Future Farmers of America, Boy Scouts...”

“Girl Scouts,” she corrected.

“Was a quarterback at Smallville High and attended Midwestern University on a football scholarship...”

“Aha!” Claire pointed accusingly at the doctored photo on the screen. “That's not right: I was a cheer-leader! Whoever faked this made a mistake!”

He swiveled his chair around to look at her. “Guys generally don't become cheer-leaders.”

“Oh. Right.” Claire sighed and took another sip of her tea.

Bruce turned back to the screen. “Degree in journalism, worked as a free-lance reporter before getting hired at the Daily Planet...”

Claire hummed her agreement.

“Currently married to fellow reporter, Lois Lane...”

The tea spluttered, some of it going down the wrong tube. When the coughing-fit finally abated, she stared at Bruce in shock. “I'm sorry, *LOIS LANE*?!”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Unlikely?”

“Try impossible!” Claire shook her head. “Whoever set this up clearly doesn't know Lois if they think she'd ever get married, for one thing! She's the poster-girl for independent women who 'don't need no man'! And as for being married to me, of all people...” She laughed. “Look, don't get me wrong; Lois was a good friend and a great reporter, but she would sell out her own grandmother if it meant getting a scoop. The fact that you haven't read about my secret identity in the Planet *proves* this whole thing is fake!”

“Hmm.” Her husband leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, staring once more at the screen. “Well, this is all certainly enlightening.”

She perked up at his words. “Oh? Are you seeing a definite clue for who's behind it? Are any of your own memories coming back?”

He shook his head. “I just mean that this explains why an alien from another planet would have such a strong interest in Earth. Nothing about Superman added up before, and I don't like when things don't add up.” He stared at the screen again, fingers drumming on the arm of the chair. “You said you saw a man disappear as soon as you found yourself in the Daily Planet?

Claire nodded. “Yes. I thought I must have been going crazy!”

The drumming stilled. Bruce cleared his throat. “Can you describe the person you saw?”

“Even better: I'll sketch him for you.” Claire sped to the main study on the ground floor of the house and returned with paper and a pencil. In under six seconds, she had completed a reasonably accurate drawing of the face she remembered.

Bruce's expression was unreadable as she handed him the paper. When he looked at it, his eyes widened. “This is very good. A skill like this could be useful.”

“Sometimes when we're investigating together, I draw whatever it is I'm using my x-ray vision to look at.” She picked up the remains of her tea from the table and downed it.

Bruce stared at her. After a few moments, he returned his attention to the paper. “This looks like John Doe.”

“Who?” Claire frowned at the unfamiliar name.

“John Doe,” Bruce repeated. “A former politician and a Darn Nice Guy.” He blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Anyway, no one knows where he came from, but he gained massive popularity and political power virtually overnight. He wound up being committed to a mental hospital; they dragged him away while he was screaming that Clark Kent and Superman were the same person.” A frown puckered his forehead. “Kent and Superman were seen together.”

Claire's eyebrows rose. “What?”

His hands flew over the keyboard for a moment or two. A video popped up on the screen, showing what looked like news footage of a man being loaded into a padded wagon. Lois was present, as was the male version of herself that Claire had seen in the news clip back at the Planet. Another man arrived also: one with glasses and a very charming tie. The man in the orderlies' custody flew into a conniption at the sight of him, screaming and raving just as Bruce had described. “That's not Clark Kent! That's a *different* Clark Kent—he's from another universe!”

Bruce paused the video and leaned back in the chair, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Another universe...”

She stared at him. “Do you think there's something there?”

“I think things are finally starting to add up.” Bruce met her gaze. “Right now, I can see three possibilities.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Option one, you're Claire Wayne. Someone turned you into a man, faked a lot of evidence that you were always a man, and somehow gave everyone on the planet false memories to match the new narrative. Anyone who could do that would already have more power than they could ever hope to gain, so what would be the point?”

Claire shrugged. For some reason, the thought of magical imps popped into her head, but now was not the time for such silliness.

“Option two,” Bruce continued, “you're Clark Kent. You've had a tragic break with reality. Somehow, despite the demands of being both Superman and a full-time reporter, you've found the time to thoroughly stalk me. You not only know your way around my house, but you've also done incredible feats of detective work to find out my deepest personal fears, my true taste in women, and how I like my coffee.” He punctuated this last statement with a sip of the one she'd brought him.

“So, that leaves option three: You're Claire Wayne. You live in another universe, but someone found a way to transpose you into the body of your counterpart in this one.”

“So...this isn't my world?” Claire felt the sting of tears as the terrible implications clicked into place. “Then...you're not really my Bruce...” She scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I...I thought that...if I could just get you to remember...if we could just find the loose thread in all this and pull it...th-that things would go back to normal! But, you don't...you're not...” She set down the empty teacup and buried her face in her hands, not even fighting the sobs that came.

After a long moment, she felt Bruce's hand patting her on the shoulder. “Um, hey. It's, uh...” He sighed. “Look: the good news is that option three means there's a way to get you home.”

**********

The Metropolis Institute for Mental Health was nothing like the facilities in Gotham: it was brighter, more modern, and had much more staff on hand. Even at this hour of the night, the two costumed heroes couldn't turn down a single hallway that didn't have either security guards or medical personnel making their rounds. At least one of them must have alerted the charge nurse, because she was already watching for them by the time they reached her desk. “Superman! Batman! This is quite a surprise. What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Claire frowned but managed not to comment.

Bruce loomed over the desk. “We're here about the patient named John Doe.”

“Oh yes, Mr. Doe. A darn nice guy.” The charge nurse blinked in surprise, then grimaced. “Well, I'm sorry to say that he escaped two days ago.”

Bruce's eyes narrowed under the cowl. “Escaped?”

“Yes.” The Charge nurse sighed. “We've gone through the camera footage and questioned all security personnel, but we still can't figure out how.”

Claire leaned towards Bruce and lowered her voice. “I guess that makes sense if he was the same man in the storage closet.”

Bruce gave a slight nod but kept his attention on the nurse. “Where is the doctor who was treating him?”

“I think that would be Dr. Mulligan...” She typed at her computer a little and stared at the screen. “Yes. Dr. Mulligan is already gone for the day; he should be back in at six in the morning.”

Bruce leaned forward. “Where does he live?”

The nurse's eyebrows rose. “I—I don't know, but he might not even be home. Before he left, he said something about visiting a girlfriend.”

The poor woman found herself under the full glare of Batman.

Claire put a hand on his shoulder. “Honey, we might as well just go home and come back in a few hours.”

The charge nurse stared at them in surprise, and Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. Before Claire could ask what was wrong, Bruce returned to his usual spooky demeanor. “Fine. We will come back to speak with Dr. Mulligan, and I expect his full cooperation.”

The nurse nodded. As soon as they left, Claire's sharp hearing caught the soft mutter under her breath: “They're always either that or married...”

**********

“I'm sorry.” Claire hovered by the bat-computer, twisting one corner of her cape. “It's just...so easy to forget that you're not really...him.”

Bruce sighed and leaned back in his chair. The screen in front of him showed everything from Dr. Mulligan's alma mater to the hospital in which he was born; unsurprisingly, the name and address of his girlfriend were not among the records. “I get it. Don't worry about it.”

“We're supposed to go to Smallville, tomorrow.” Claire let go of the end of her cape and lost altitude until she was once again standing on the cave floor. “We made plans to spend Christmas with my parents. The tree is already up, and we were all going to decorate it together. There was going to be eggnog and homemade cookies.”

He was quiet for a moment. “That sounds really nice.”

Claire nodded. “I was looking forward to it.” She swallowed, swiping at her eyes again. “Especially giving him his present. Mom helped me pick it out, and we hid it in her art studio.” She stared out across the chasm that ran through the cave. A family of bats flew together in the dark. They became blurrier and blurrier until they finally disappeared.

Bruce said nothing. He'd never been a man for empty platitudes, nor could anyone justly call him an optimist. It was why he often left the task of comforting people to her. As for the times when she needed comfort herself—well, one didn't need the world's greatest detective to conclude none of that would be happening this time.

Eventually, his voice interrupted her maudlin thoughts. “What did you get him?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“I was just wondering.” Bruce gave a casual shrug. “If there's one upside to being stuck here, it's that you don't have to worry about spoiling the surprise if you tell me. So, tell me: what's he getting for Christmas?”

The utter seriousness in his tone and the thinly-veiled curiosity in his expression sent her into a peal of laughter despite herself. She wiped the last tears away, and her breathing slowly steadied. “If you really want to know: I got him a coffee mug.”

“A...coffee mug?” His brows knitted together.

Claire nodded.

He scratched his head. “Is that some kind of Kent family tradition?”

She shrugged. “Not really.”

After a moment, the confusion cleared from his expression. “I guess it's difficult to shop for someone who already owns a lot of things.”

“No, that wasn't it.” Claire looked out over the chasm again. Several of the bats had roosted. Mothers nursed their young. “I got it for him on purpose.”

“...Did you have a fight?”

Claire's jaw fell open as she whirled to face him. “What? No!”

He tilted his head at her. “Then why—?”

“It says 'World's Greatest Dad' on it.” Claire stared down at the floor.

Bruce was silent for a long time. “Oh.”

She sniffled again. “We hadn't even thought it was possible, what with my being a Kryptonian and him being from Earth. We'd made our peace with that, but then...well.” She gave him a shaky smile that soon faded. “I know how much family means to y—to *him*. I really want to see the look on his face when he realizes.” Claire gulped and stared down at her hands. They weren't her hands at all: they were too large, too hairy, and the nails were too short. An unobtrusive gold band encircled one finger on the left. She frowned, peering at it in surprise.

“Where would you like to sleep?”

She brought her eyes back up to his and snorted. “I know where I'd *like* to sleep, but until we fix that problem, I guess I could just take the second upstairs guest room.”

He nodded. “Alfred won't be back until after Boxing Day, but it should already be made up. I hope you don't mind a few days' worth of dust.”

“It's fine.” She trudged to the stairs, paused with one hand on the railing, and turned to look at him. “Bruce? ...Thank you.”

He glanced up at her, nodded again, and returned his attention to the computer. “Good night.”

She climbed the stairs at a human pace. Perhaps things would look better in the morning. It wouldn't do to give up hope, especially while they still had a lead to follow. Hopefully, she'd be back in her own world and her own body before Christmas day.

Claire looked down at herself and grimaced. Even more hopefully, she'd be back in her own body before she really needed to pee.

**********



Continued...

The drama continues. While Clark spends his honeymoon night with a clone, the real Lois is with Lex. When she tries to escape, she hits her head, and loses her memory. Meanwhile, the clone discovers Clark's secret identity...

-Favourite scene?
-Favourite quote?
-Fanfic recommendations?
-Plot bunnies to release.

Sorry for the super long break. Life hit a little hard and will be busy for the next few weeks. Next update will be January 4/5th 2025.

Meanwhile...

----------

In the darkened storage room of the Daily Planet, not a creature was stirring. Clark Kent slipped in through the window, smiling to himself as he spun back into his normal clothes. Hiding Lois's present hadn't been easy. In fact, it probably would have been impossible if he'd been restricted to normal means. His wife was brilliant and relentless, whether she was investigating a story or snooping for her presents. It made her a daunting opponent and a wonderful ally, and he was a lucky man to have her as the latter most of the time.

“Ho, ho, ho!”

Clark froze. A figure stood in the shadows, the edges of a metallic jumpsuit shimmering in the city lights from the window. Clark closed his eyes and groaned. “No, no, no! Tempus, not today!”

“Oh, don't be like that, Kent!” Tempus stepped toward him, his features twisted into a maniacal grin. “Don't you know that Christmas is a time for truces? Have some comfort and joy: I'm here to invite you to a party!”

“A...party.” Clark's eyes narrowed.

The grin on Tempus' face expanded. “Of course! I know it's unlikely, but believe it: I was just sitting in my cell in Utopia, and I thought, you know what? It's a shame that the old boy-scout has to work so hard during the holidays. So in the spirit of the season, I figured I'd invite you somewhere festive, with live music and tiny food on toothpicks! Of course, there is a dress code...”

“Tempus!” Clark gritted his teeth and seized Tempus' shiny collar. “Whatever you're really plotting—”

A sensation much like a bolt of lighting struck Clark before he even noticed the device in the other man's hand. The world seemed to swim around him, bending and stretching in all directions. When it finally stilled, the storage room had disappeared.

Clark blinked against the brighter light. He seemed to be standing in a massive ballroom, surrounded by people in fine suits and elegant dresses. They all chatted softly while a string quartet at the far end of the room played 'Deck the Halls', and waiters with large platters of refreshments unobtrusively wove through the crowd. Tempus was gone, and instead of the man's collar, Clark's small and delicate hand now held a tiny gherkin on a toothpick...

...Wait...

He looked down at himself: apparently, he was no longer...well, himself. His free hand froze half-way to the strange new curves on his torso; the plunging neckline of a long, black gown showed him that the source of these shapes was...organic. Clark swallowed. Those were... He had... A dress! He was wearing a dress!

His stomach roiled and his heart began to pound. Clark forced down the growing panic and looked around again. Tempus was nowhere to be seen, and none of the party-goers seemed to be aware that anything unusual had happened. In fact, none of them were even looking his way, save for one dark-haired man in a suit that probably cost more than Clark's annual salary.

The eye-contact was apparently enough of an invitation for the man to come over, and he grinned roguishly at Clark while idly swirling the remnants of a drink. “You alright, Beautiful?”

Bruce Wayne. Clark recognized him, now. He'd only met the playboy billionaire once, but it was certainly enough to leave a lasting impression. The last fundraising gala Perry had sent them to cover was one that Mr. Wayne had invested very heavily in, though he'd also proceeded to get very heavily drunk. He then spent an absurd portion of the evening hitting on Lois, despite her protestations that she was happily married, and asking them questions about Superman which ranged from ridiculous to alarming. When Lois's rejections finally passed through the alcoholic haze and several thick layers of skull, a butler came along and gently shepherded Mr. Wayne away on the pretext of needing to take a phone call. The man would never know how close he'd come to being put straight through a wall, and that would have been *before* Clark got to him.

“I'm fine.” Clark winced at the higher pitch of his voice.

An arm suddenly came up around Clark's shoulders, pulling him close, and the playboy's breath was hot against his ear. “Want to get out of here?”

Despite the dramatic difference in Clark's physique, he apparently still had his Kryptonian speed. He paused at the edge of a sprawling, manicured lawn, a sonic boom rolling in his wake. The sounds of the party reached him from the mansion, perfectly uninterrupted. With any luck, Mr. Wayne would be too drunk to realize just how literally Clark had disappeared.

He scanned the unfamiliar skyline in the distance and frowned. Tempus had certainly put him in a pickle... The thought called to mind the tiny gherkin he'd found himself holding when he arrived, and which he had absently brought along with him. It was surprisingly tasty. Incinerating the toothpick prevented littering and confirmed that he also had heat-vision. He was also able to levitate, and while he had no idea about the Superman costume, at least the black dress he now wore would help camouflage him in the dark.

Clark shot up into the sky. There was exactly one person who could help him untangle this mess. If he could find her, everything would be all right.

**********

Metropolis still looked the same, though Clark knew better than to assume it was the city he knew. His wife had once found herself in another universe thanks to Tempus, and she'd told Clark how uncanny the resemblance to their own world had been. Sure enough, when he hovered over their townhouse on Hyperion, there were signs that another family was living there.

The next stop was the Daily Planet. Looking inside showed the same bullpen he remembered, and all the people there were familiar. However, Lois wasn't among them. He found her desk, but the photo they'd taken for their first anniversary wasn't on it.

There was one more place to try before going back to the drawing board: her old apartment on Carter avenue. As soon as he neared the building, the strong, steady beating of her heart reached his ears from inside. Clark made his way to her door and knocked. The familiar sound of locks turning brought a smile to his face, though it vanished when Lois opened the door and scowled at him. “What are *YOU* doing here?!”

Clark took a step back in surprise but managed to recompose himself. “I need your help.”

Lois crossed her arms, blocking the doorway with her body, and her scowl deepened. “What's the matter? Prince Charming turned back into a frog?”

He took a deep breath. “This might be complicated. Could I come in?”

She stared at him for a long time. Finally, curiosity apparently won out over whatever animosity she harbored. “Fine.” She stepped back from the door and Clark hurried into the room. “But make this quick.”

He turned to face her. “I should probably start out by explaining that I'm not who you think I am.”

“Oh, I figured that out a long time ago!” Lois slid the chain back into its position and marched towards him. “You know, you really had me fooled with the whole 'sweet farm girl' act! All that stuff about wanting to make the world a better place really sounded sincere! But I guess tipping the staff at a five-star resort is a good enough way to make a difference, isn't it?!” Her voice may as well have dripped acid.

Clark sighed. “Look, can I just try to explain?”

“Sure. Fine. Explain.” Lois stomped to the sofa and dropped heavily onto it. “But I don't know what you could possibly say that would make up for abandoning journalism to marry Gotham's biggest airhead!”

**********

A long time later, Lois sat unmoving on the couch, staring into the middle distance with a stunned expression. “So, you—or rather, Claire—is Superwoman?!”

Clark shrugged and landed gently on the carpet again. “I don't know that name or much about Claire. But I am Superman back in my universe, and I still have my powers in this body. So, it sounds likely.” He retrieved the pair of glasses from her coffee table and slipped them back on.

She gave a slight shake of her head. “Sorry, this is just a lot to take in.”

“I know.” After a moment's hesitation, Clark seated himself on the other end of the couch. “If it is true, then I hope you won't let whatever grudges you have against her cloud your judgment. It's a very dangerous secret, and once something like that gets out—”

Lois held up a hand. “Don't worry about that. Actually, it's a relief.” A smile broke out on her face. “If she's Superwoman, that means she's still fighting the good fight. She's still working to uphold all those ideals she talked about, rather than sitting on a beach somewhere sipping cocktails while the rest of the world falls apart.” Lois leaned back against the couch and sighed. “It means the best friend I ever had wasn't just another fake.”

After a long reverie, her gaze shifted back to Clark. “Hey, if you're an alternate version of Claire, can you give me any insight on why she didn't just tell me herself?”

Clark shrugged. “It's a pretty big secret. If her parents are anything like mine, they would have drilled into her never to tell anyone about it.”

“You told me yours, though.” Lois tilted her head. “Does the Lois on your world know? Or...Louis, I guess?”

“Lois.” He smiled. “Yes, she knows.” After a moment, his smile dissipated. “I probably owe her an apology when I get back, though.”

“Why?” She shifted on the couch and looked at him curiously.

Clark let out a breath and stared up at the ceiling. “She had dated Lex Luthor, and I used to wonder how she could have been so dazzled as to nearly marry the man. Even if he weren't a criminal, they still didn't have much in common. He wasn't someone she could exchange personal secrets with, and they wanted different things out of life. Pretty much the only thing he had to offer her was his looks and money! But...I guess those things go a little farther than I realized.” His face felt warm. “At least Luthor had more intelligence than a brick.”

Lois tilted her head back and laughed. “Well, I guess it's easier to judge things from the outside. And hey, I bet that Bruce Wayne's constant obliviousness makes it easy for Claire to keep her secret from him.”

His eyebrows rose. “You think she didn't tell her own husband?”

“I wouldn't.” Lois snorted. “I'll grant you that he seems to be much better behaved since marrying Claire, but I can still picture him getting tipsy and yapping to everyone about his superhero wife. That man probably couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it!”

**********

The next morning found him and Lois riding up the elevator together as usual, save for a few major differences. Clark tugged at the hem of the sweatshirt Lois had lent him, trying to conceal that last sliver of stomach that it stubbornly wouldn't reach. This was the first time he'd ever had to borrow any of her clothing, though there had certainly been many occasions where Lois had borrowed his. It was also the first time he'd ever slept on her couch, and—well, mercifully, he could float.

The noise of the newsroom hushed at their arrival, and everyone's eyes were fixed on them as they made their way down the ramp to the bullpen. They had just reached Lois's desk when Perry approached them, staring perplexedly at Clark. “Claire?”

“Uh, hi, Chief!” Clark smiled and tried to look like everything was normal.

Perry looked back and forth between him and Lois, who had just taken off her coat and was now booting up her computer. “Darlin', is everything all right?”

Clark waited for Lois's reply, only to realize that Perry had been addressing him. “Uh, yeah. Everything's just fine.”

A frown creased Perry's forehead. “I heard from an old friend that there's a rumor going around that you and your husband arrived at a party together but left separately. Heck, they're saying that you eighty-sixed the place before cocktails were even served!”

Clark winced. He hadn't known at the time how his departure would reflect on his counterpart, but he should clearly try to be more careful in the future.

“Honey, if there's anything you need to talk about, you know Alice and I are here for you.” Perry rested a hand on Clark's shoulder. “Anything at all.”

“Thanks, Perry, but everything's fine. Really.” Clark offered a tiny smile. “I just...uh...”

“She got a really hot lead and needed to share it with me.” Lois leaned back from her computer and looked Perry in the eye. “We'll let you know if it pans out.”

Perry gave them both a long, assessing look, then nodded. “All right. Tell me if I've got a new front page.”

Lois flashed a grin up at him. “We will, Chief!”

He turned to Clark again. “But if you do need to talk, my door is still open.” He went back to his office, leaving the door ajar just as he said.

Not long after Perry's departure, Jimmy came bounding up to them. “CK! Or, uh, I guess CW now?” He gave an awkward chuckle. “Long time no see, huh? How, uh, how have you been?” He wrung his hands together while watching Clark with a strange expression.

“Uh, good, thanks.” Clark gave what he hoped was an easy-going smile. “And you?”

“Oh, good. Keeping busy, you know.” Jimmy sniffed and drew himself up to his full height. “Got to help Perry keep this place running, you know? Can't let things get out of hand for a second, so it's busy, busy, busy.”

“I see.” Clark glanced at Lois. She had bitten down on her lip and was staring fixedly at her computer screen.

“So, do you need anything?” Jimmy scratched the back of his neck. “Coffee? Research? I overheard the chief saying something about you needing to talk, so...if you need a shoulder to cry on...”

Lois pushed her chair back a little from the desk. “Actually, Jimmy, we need a list of any scientists or laboratories that might be researching parallel universes.”

Jimmy's forehead scrunched. “Parallel universes? Um, sure! I'm on it.” He turned back to Clark with a toothy grin. “Time to work my magic! So, um, welcome back!” With a wave, he dashed off.

Clark leaned towards Lois and lowered his voice. “Is Jimmy okay?”

“He has a crush on you,” she whispered back.

His eyebrows rose. “Oh!”

Lois turned back to her computer and opened a web-search program. “I think we should start by looking for anyone else who might know about this stuff. From what you told me about that Tempus guy, he isn't the type to stay hidden; so if he were around, we'd hear something.”

A sound from the floor below them made Clark's back stiffen.

“—brings you to the Planet, Mr. Wayne?”

“Oh, just dropping in on an old acquaintance.”

With his x-ray vision, Clark found the elevator as it came up the shaft. Bruce Wayne was riding inside with a few of their coworkers. Clark made it to the storage room just as the elevator chimed.

He kept watch on Mr. Wayne as the man sauntered down the ramp, smiling in every direction and waving at everyone. Here indeed was a man who didn't have a thought in his head or a care in the world. Clark started to roll his eyes but then paused: why would a man whose wife had vanished be smiling and care-free? But on the other hand, if Bruce Wayne really didn't have any concerns about it, then why was he at her former place of work? Clark frowned, looking through the wall again.

Lois was still staring at the spot where Clark had been when Mr. Wayne reached her desk and leaned against it. “Lois! Long time, no see! How's tracks?”

Her confused expression was quickly replaced with a polite smile. “I think you mean 'how's tricks'. Work's been good. How are you?”

Mr. Wayne shrugged. “Oh, about what you'd expect. Say, has Claire gotten in touch with you, recently?”

“No. Was she supposed to?” Lois managed to sound perfectly innocent.

Another shrug, and he idly picked up a stack of papers from her desk. “I thought she'd mentioned it, but maybe she was talking about something else. Who can say?” He seemed to suddenly notice the papers he was now holding and began flipping through the pages. “Say, what are you working on?” The top few pages found their way to the back of the stack, and he fished out a page from the middle to scrutinize.

Lois's eye twitched as she leaped up to take the papers from his hands. “Nothing you need to worry about! If it pans out, you can read about it in the Planet!”

While she attempted to return the papers to their proper order, Mr. Wayne slipped a hand into his pocket and leaned over to look at her monitor. A frown crossed his face, but it was gone by the time she looked up. “Aw, no sneak previews of tomorrow's front-lines?”

Lois closed her eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. That fast, Mr. Wayne's hand left his pocket and darted under her desk. “They're *head* lines, and they go on the front *page*.”

Something electronic began to whine at the range above normal hearing. Clark's jaw fell open.

“Right, right. Something like that.” Mr. Wayne nodded agreeably. “Well, look: this has been fun, but I've really got to get going. We should get together for lunch, sometime! Let me give you the new number...” He fumbled for a card in his wallet, then looked up at her with a confused frown. “Or did Claire already give you the number when you talked to her?”

“I haven't talked to her,” Lois sweetly reminded him.

“Right. Right. Ah, here it is!” He handed her the card, beaming like a little boy who'd successfully tied his own shoes. “Just give a call when you're not busy scooping your bylines!”

“That's not—!” Lois sighed again and took the card with a tight smile. “I will. Thank you.”

The billionaire made his way back to the elevator without any further incidents. Once it began to descend, Clark headed back to Lois's desk. The device underneath it continued to whine.

Lois leaned back in her chair, rubbing her forehead, and looked up just as he approached. “Oh, there you are! I guess you noticed that Bruce Wayne was here. You know, I hope for Claire's sake that idiot is at least good in—”

Clark held a finger to his lips.

Her mouth snapped shut, though she frowned at him in confusion.

He took a notepad and pen from her desk and scribbled the words “Say nothing and come with me”.

She nodded and grabbed her coat. Without a word, they headed for the stairwell.

**********

The roof of the Daily Planet was covered in a thin layer of snow, and more flakes drifted down from the clouds overhead. Clark went to the railing and scanned the city below for any signs of Bruce Wayne. Finally, he turned back to face Lois. “Okay, I think we can talk here.”

She pulled her coat tighter around herself and looked at him with a worried expression. “What's wrong?”

After a moment's consideration, Clark decided to just come right out and say it: “He bugged your desk.”

“Wait, what? Who?” Lois looked confused.

“Bruce Wayne bugged your desk.”

She stared at him. “You're... kidding. Bruce Wayne? The man who needs a butler to remind him how to put on pants?”

Clark nodded. “I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but he did. He distracted you, planted a listening device, and I'm pretty sure he tried to trick you into admitting you'd been in contact with Claire. It was...more subtle than I ever would have thought him capable of being.”

Lois gaped at him. “Incredible...” She stared into the distance for a moment, then brought her eyes back to his. “Do you think maybe he was swapped out too? I mean, maybe there's another universe out there where Bruce Wayne is smart?”

Clark thought it over. “I guess it's possible, but then why all the subterfuge in looking for my counterpart?”

“Well, maybe in his world, Claire is some kind of super-villain or something, and...and...” Her breath puffed out in front of her. “I have no idea. Still, if we're going to keep a low profile while working on this, we'll probably need to do something about that bug. Can you destroy it?”

He grimaced. “I could, but it would probably just tip him off that we found it, and that might raise questions.”

“We'll have to work somewhere else, then.” She blew on her hands and shoved them in her pockets. “We could try to go back to my apartment, unless you can think of somewhere safer.”

Clark stared out over the horizon. “How do you feel about a flight to Kansas?”


Continued...

Welcome to the December 2024 Scavenger Hunt! I post a thing, you find a fic that has the thing somewhere in it, post FDK, report back, collect points. It's as easy as mince-meat pie!

Here are the official rules:

And for scoring/the theme, you get one point for each instance of the following items:

1. A Drummer
2. Someone playing a woodwind instrument
3. An upper-class man jumping
4. A woman dancing
5. An unmarried woman attempting (successfully or not) to get milk from an animal
6. A swan
7. A goose
8. A gold ring
9. A bird making any kind of vocalized noise (chirps, squawks, etc)
10. A hen (for the purposes of this challenge, no specific nationality is required)
11. A turtledove (will also accept: regular doves, pidgeons)
12. A partridge
13. A pear tree
14. A True declaration of Love

Alright, there you are, and happy hunting!

Complete Story and Comments

Complete Ficlet

Prologue
Comments

Chapter 1
Comments

Chapter 2
Comments

Author’s Note: For the purposes of this story, I have chosen to deviate from Lois and Clark in regards to Sam Lane. Rather than any sort of doctor or bionic specialist, I have cast him in the more common role of a military general as in SV, MAWS, and S&L. As you will soon learn, this career path led him to a much more prestigious role in this story. However, Sam Lane does not play a major part in this story beyond setting the stage for our favorite couple.

Prologue

Sam Lane had never intended to go into politics. In all honesty, he hardly considered himself to be a man of politics now, despite the title which would suggest otherwise. He was a general first and foremost – never mind that he’d been promoted to Commander in Chief of the United States of America.

He hadn’t asked for it. Nor had he sought it out. But when faced with a years long war against an enemy far more powerful than the most advanced human weaponry, the country – no, the world – had turned to the one man who had discovered that enemy’s weakness and given humanity a fighting chance. He was elected in an unprecedented landside victory as a write-in candidate. Begrudgingly, he had accepted the will of the people.

He had since used his position to shore up defenses in the United States and abroad. With a new, common enemy to fight, countries of the world had put aside their differences and worked together to push back against the invading force.

One year ago, the fighting had come to a stand-still and an uneasy cold war had begun, their enemy looming in space – ready to strike at the first sign of weakness.

It was then that President Lane first received a message from Lord Jor-El.

He was wary of the Kryptonian noble at first. He’d long come to believe that the only good Kryptonian was a dead Kryptonian. Wherever they had appeared on Earth, they had caused untold destruction and death. They were too powerful, too terrifying, and they took and demanded whatever they pleased without regard for human life. Had it not been for his discovery of kryptonite, they would have overrun the planet and either killed or enslaved all of humanity.

But Sam Lane knew something had to be done to bring this war to an end and so he had, with much suspicion, opened communications with Jor-El.

He learned much about Kryptonian culture and government in their first few messages. Krypton, or rather New Krypton as their first planet had been destroyed, was led by a ruling council at the head of which reigned the First Lord – a hereditary position strictly regulated into hundred-year dynasties, preventing a single noble family from ruling for too long.

The First Lord who had begun the war with Earth was Lord Nor-Zod, forth in the Zod dynasty – a foolish, young man who had begun his reign just after the destruction of Krypton, which had also resulted in the death of his father. Lord Nor was power-hungry and many of the council members feared him. When he set his sights on Earth and the power it’s yellow sun would grant him, no one dared oppose him. But as the humans fought back and the war dragged on, the council began to grumble against Lord Nor, noting the loss of Kryptonian life – in a population already stricken by the loss of their planet.

Jor-El had long been speaking out against the war – demanding that Earth be left to the humans and reparations be made for the destruction they had caused. But his voiced had held little sway. So long as Nor was First Lord, he held ultimate power over the council.

But the hundred-year dynasty of Zod was coming to an end. This was the reason for the cease-fire. The Kryptonians were preparing for a major change in their government. Despite Lord Nor’s demands for a final push against Earth, the council finally stood united against him and determined that the matter of Earth would be settled after the transition was complete.

Jor-El soon revealed to President Lane that the House of El – Jor-El himself – was next in line to reign as First Lord. As such, he wanted to set things in place to enact a treaty with Earth as soon as his reign began.

They communicated back and forth for months – ironing out details of the treaty, involving the leaders of other nations to ensure that proper reparations would be made.

Finally, the day came for Jor-El to take his place as First Lord. As promised, his first act was to propose to the council a treaty with Earth, bringing the war to an end.

Sam stared at the papers on his desk, reviewing the conditions and concessions the Kryptonian council had made. Mostly, they seemed to have accepted the treaty as it had been presented to them. But there were a few small changes.

He looked up at the holographic image of First Lord Jor-El, which stood before him. He’d long since gotten used to the advanced Kryptonian communication technology.

“So Nor-Zod will be tried as a war criminal?” Sam enquired. At Jor-El’s nod, he continued, “It’d be better if he were tried on Earth. How do we know he won’t get off with a slap on the wrist?”

“I can assure you, that will not happen.” Jor-El stated. “Nor will be punished to the fullest extent possible according to Kryptonian law. The council will not be swayed on this, however. He will return to New Krypton to face charges. And, given that your yellow sun imbues him with invulnerability, it is probably for the best.”

Sam frowned but grudgingly accepted the last point. He scanned another part of the document. “And no other members of the council will be charged?”

“As I have explained before, our government would not survive a complete upheaval of the ruling council. Although certain key players in the war against Earth have already been removed or demoted, we cannot endure much beyond this. Our system is hereditary and many of the council members do not have heirs of age to step into their fathers’ positions.”

Sam grumbled some more under his breath and Jor-El sighed. “President Lane, please. I understand your position. Earth has suffered incalculable loss at the hands of my people. We offer what reparations we can in the form of technology and other resources to help you rebuild and recover. The council has agreed that all Kryptonians should leave Earth’s solar system apart from a small embassy which, I hope, will allow our peoples to continue communications and one day establish trade agreements. We cannot undo what Lord Nor has done. I can only hope that we find a way to move forward.”

“Of course, Lord Jor-El,” Sam nodded. It wasn’t easy for him to not demand more, after all they had endured and lost. But he knew Jor-El was trying his best to make this work for both of their peoples. If he could not get the backing of the council, the treaty would never go through.

But there was one new condition on the treaty which confused Sam. He jabbed a finger at the problematic portion of the document. “What’s this oov-re-ah-she-al er-vish? I’ve gotta be pronouncing that wrong.”

Jor-El offered a slight smile at his attempt but he looked uncomfortable. “Ah, the uvrreoshial urvish. Forgive me, President Lane. I tried to reason with the council about this but they were undeterred. It is an old Kryptonian tradition and not something currently practiced in most of Earth’s nations as far as I am aware. But the council argued that it is not unprecedented in Earth culture and...”

“But what is it?” Sam interrupted, apprehensive about what this could be after such a buildup.

Jor-El heaved a heavy sigh before answering. “I believe it is what you would call a Marriage of State.”

Sam blinked. He looked back at the papers, noting mentions of a union and other such language which confirmed what Jor-El was saying. He returned his gaze to the hologram and shook his head. “An arranged marriage? We don’t do that here.”

“It is not unheard of in Earth’s culture,” Jor-El argued. “European monarchies frequently set political unions. And arranged marriages are still practiced in India and…”

“This isn’t India and it isn’t ancient Europe. This is the United States of America,” Sam stated firmly.

Jor-El remained calm. “Our treaty is with Earth, not only the United States. But I do understand your point. You are the figure-head for Earth regarding this war and your country does not practice arranged marriages. As I stated, I tried to argue against this proposal by the council. They would not be swayed. They consider it a matter of both tradition and insurance. They are convinced that this union will prevent any future retaliation from Earth against New Krypton.”

Sam was flabbergasted. “Us against New Krypton?! We’ve can’t even get to Mars. How would we ever attack New Krypton?”

Jor-El shook his head in seeming agreement with the sentiment. “They foresee that Earth will one day advance in space travel. I suppose they like to plan ahead.” He sighed again. “Nevertheless, I was unable to dissuade them from pursuing this condition. Without the uvrreoshial urvish, they will not ratify the treaty. My son has already agreed to enter into the union for the cause of peace between our peoples.”

“That’s all well and good for your son. He’s practically a prince. But who do you propose we put up as his bride?” Sam asked. He had a bad feeling he already knew where this was going. “We don’t exactly have princesses around here.”

Jor-El looked uncomfortable again. “Traditionally, a daughter or niece of the opposing Lord would take part. As you stand as the figure-head for Earth, the council feels it is appropriate for the bride to come from your family. You… that is… you do have two daughters. Do you not?”

Sam scowled. “No. I won’t ask that of them. Lucy is far too young. And Lois… no. Even if I were okay with this, she would never accept it. I could never ask her to.”

The Kryptonian sighed but nodded. “I suspected as much. I can take this back to the council. Try again to persuade them… though I doubt it will do any good. Perhaps there is someone else we might propose – the daughter of another of Earth’s leaders – though it may take some time to convince the council to allow this. In their minds, you are the leader of Earth as I am the leader of New Krypton. To propose the daughter of a lesser family… many will consider it to be an insult. I had hoped to bring a swift end to this war. But I assure you, I will continue to work towards that goal. It simply may take longer than we intended.”

Sam heaved a sigh of his own. If this cold war lingered any longer, it was only a matter of time before someone screwed up and insighted another battle. Earth could not endure more loss. Neither, he thought, could New Krypton. Jor-El was clearly trying his best but he had admitted many times that the council was a hardened group of men, set in their ways.

An arranged marriage… he couldn’t fathom that Lois would ever agree to it. She was too headstrong, too driven. She’d just completed her first year of college. She had plans for a career as a journalist. How could he ask her to do this?

But what choice did he have?

For the good of the Earth, he had to at least ask her. He could explain that it was the fastest way to end the war and send the Kryptonians home. She’d probably still say no – and he wouldn’t force her if that was her choice. But on the slight chance that she might say yes… he had to ask.

Looking up at Jor-El, he nodded firmly. “Give me a day to consult with my daughter. I’ll give you her answer tomorrow.”

“Very well, President Lane. Tomorrow.” Jor-El lifted his hand in a gesture of farewell and then his image disappeared.

Sam rested his head in his hands and groaned. Lois was not going to like this.

Clark's Apartment

It was Friday evening on the eighth of the month when Lois decided to visit Clark’s apartment after work. She liked to do that at times just to feel close to him. So it was a surprise to discover the courier was on the balcony… a week ahead of schedule. This was unusual. Why was the courier early?

Immediately, Lois planned to listen to the Courier’s message and then contact Jonathan and Martha, to inform them about its contents. As usual, the machine silently made its way inside the apartment. Lois was about to activate it, but paused as the phone rang. “Who on Earth would call here?” She spoke out loud.

Rather than pick up the phone, Lois let the call go to the answering machine and listened, assuming it was probably some telemarketing scheme. So it was definitely a surprise when she heard Dr. Bernard Klein’s voice.

Lois when you hear this message, please call either me or Abrihet its …

Picking up the receiver, her heart beating with excitement, she said, “Bernie! Why are you calling me here?”

Over the phone she heard a quick breath escape his lips as Bernie said, Can we meet somewhere tonight?

Puzzled, Lois said, “Sure. Java Perk is still open. It’s not too far from your townhouse. Is everything all right?”

Yes. At least I hope so. See you there in a few minutes. I’ll be sitting in the back booth. Goodbye.

Shrugging on her red wool jacket, Lois pondered what could possibly pull Bernie away from Abrihet on a Friday night. The gentle scientist and his beautiful Nigerian wife, Clark’s former ballroom dancing teacher, had been married for nearly a year, but in some ways it seemed like they were still on their Honeymoon. Normally, the couple had such hectic schedules they unplugged the phone, turned off the television and spent time cooking and ‘catching up’ with each other on Friday nights.

As she started up the Jeep, Lois hoped that she and Clark would have such a close and warm relationship. If only he would come home.

***

Ten minutes later, Lois entered Java Perk. The normally bustling coffee shop only had a few customers at this late evening hour. So it was easy to spot Bernie sitting in the back booth, wearing a trench coat, a Metros baseball cap pulled over his head so low it nearly covered his face. It looked as if he was trying to avoid anyone recognizing him. She walked briskly over and sat down across from him and said. “Hi Bernie! What’s going on?”

“Oh thanks goodness! Please Lois, make yourself comfortable. I only have a few minutes.” He said quickly while clutching a cup of what smelled like Earl Grey tea.

She relaxed a bit. This sounded like ‘academic’ Bernie, the personality she most identified with before his marriage. Something ‘scientific’ must be going on that had her old friend in a tizzy …which meant nothing dangerous.

Bernie took a long drink of tea, looked up at her and said in conspiratorial tones, “Did an extraterrestrial ‘visitor’ arrive at Clark’s apartment tonight?”
Taken aback, Lois said, “What do you mean?”

“For the past few months, uh …actually every month since Superman disappeared, EPRAD has noticed a tiny metallic device entering into Earth’s atmosphere. It hovers for a time over the mid-Atlantic and then its trajectory indicates the East Coast, but before they can get a fix on the object it vanishes. The strange thing is that it only happens on the fifteenth of each month. So …has anything arrived from Clark?”

With a tiny bit of her upper lip, Lois whispered, “Maybe.”

“Oh, dear. Good thing it appeared today rather than the fifteenth. At first it was considered a flute, but the consistency of this …blip rose concerns among many astronomers, including Professor Stephen Daitch.”

Lois groaned, “Oh no! Not him! Please don’t tell me, besides General Zeitlin, Special-Advisor-to-the-President John Cosgrove are also concerned?”

Bernie lowered his head and said. “Neither General Zeitlin nor Mr. Cosgrove has contacted me as yet. Both men wield considerable influence over the President, and they might reach out on his behalf since I am Superman’s physician. In any case, after checking with astronomers from other countries, they are concerned about the reason for this monthly astronomical aberration. Professor Daitch has mentioned to me this might be in regard to Superman. He suspects that since New Kryptonian technology is far greater than ours, it would be easy to send a ship to our planet. The question would be, why.”

Lois contemplated telling Bernie about the courier. Yes, he and Abrihet knew about Clark’s secret identity, but now that the government was asking questions and she didn’t want to put her friends into an untenable position.

Taking a quick breath she asked very softly, “Bernie, what does Professor Daitch plan on doing if this uh … device is from New Krypton?”

“John is a good man who appreciates all that Superman did to protect Earth from that horrible Nightfall asteroid. He doesn’t want to do anything about it. But that doesn’t mean others, like Zeitlin and Cosgrove, might not want to track it, especially if it could possibly lead them to Superman’s home on Earth.”

Lois’ expressive brown eyes grew wide, and she asked with a tremor in her voice, “Why?”

Bernie swallowed another gulp of Earl Gray tea and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as the liquid went down his throat. Lois thought that under other circumstances this might be funny. But she couldn’t ignore Bernie’s concerns that the pursuit of Superman’s home, might be found and then Clark’s private life – and hers – would be over.

“Truthfully Lois, I don’t want to jump to conclusions. Nonetheless, if you are aware of what this thing is, please either redirect it elsewhere or have it continue to arrive come on a less unpredictable schedule.”

Lois shook her head and in conspiratorial tones said, “That …that might be difficult to do Bernie. The drone, I call it a courier, is a monthly communication link between Clark and myself.”

The scientist straightened up and peered at her over his glasses with an intensely curious expression. In his mind, he thought that it had not been long ago that he and Abrihet communicated via letters and email. Before marrying him, she resided in Paris. He remembered how frustrated he had been awaiting her transcontinental replies. How difficult would it be keeping a relationship alive between planets?

Still, Bernie, although romantic, was a scientist and at once immensely curious about this form of communication. He could barely contain his excitement and fought hard to keep his voice lowered. “A fascinating piece of Kryptonian technology! Abrihet would be desperate to study its metallurgic composition. What a treasure trove of knowledge! It might take several months to comprehend its molecular structure!”

Lois let him mutter to himself for a minute or two about optical emission spectrometers and measuring devices and if there was some way to sneak the drone into his laboratory at S.T.A.R. Labs.

But at last she had to bring him back to Earth. “Dr. Klein, we can’t do that. The courier only remains on Earth for twenty-four hours, before the courier has to return to New Krypton.”

His long face fell with disappointment. “What? Why? Lois, this is the opportunity of a lifetime! I can hold Daitch and the others off and come up with some kind of explanation.” In spite of his protest, he began searching for another excuse, to mumbling, “Space junk is not going to work. The drone has been on the same trajectory … disappears over the Atlantic … Still, there has to be something …”

Bernie continued speaking softly to himself, it seemed as if he was completely ignoring the problems the drone could cause for Lois and the Kents. “Bernie!” Lois hissed to get his attention. “The drone lands. It transmits a holographic message from Clark. Then I record a message back to him. It stays in the sun for 10 hours and then it returns home. The device is pre-programmed. I can’t stop it from leaving!”

Dr. Klein blinked, stopped speaking, looked at the concerned expression on his friend’s face and realized what he was saying. “Oh my. This device …ah what did you call it? The Courier? It is like an intergalactic Pony Express! A way for you and your fiancée to communicate. No way are any of those people going to get their hands on your personal correspondence!” He drew himself up straighter and continued, I will do whatever it takes to protect you and the Kents’ privacy. I can’t imagine how Abrihet would feel if our courtship letters fell into the wrong hands.”

Lois smiled to herself. Abrihet did say that Bernie was rather 'romantic' in his letters to her.

“Did you say holographic? I ...that is to say, Abrihet and I would love to at least see pictures of this machine.”

She placed a hand over his and said, “Perhaps when Clark gets back he can arrange some kind of intelligence exchange between yourself and the scientists of New Krypton. He did mention a doctor named, Cla-Le.”

“Medical person?”

Lois nodded. “His official Kryptonian title translates into Neurological healer. Apparently, Clark’s uncle is seriously ill, and Cla-Le is the lead doctor taking care of him.”

“To have a conversation with such a man would be life altering! If it is at all possible to arrange such an interchange, please do so!” Bernie’s eyes glittered with excitement.

“The Courier is in a safe place and will be leaving soon. Maybe I can take it somewhere far from Metropolis so that if EPRAD does attempt tracking the device won’t obviously lead back to Clark.”

Bernie took a final swallow of the remaining tea, and said, “At least forty to fifty miles from here might be a good idea. Make certain that next month it lands somewhere else far away from here! I will help as much as I can.”

Taking his hand again and giving it a squeeze she said, “You’ve helped more than enough. Thank you… from both of us.”

A faint blush of red crossed his face. “Friendship is the perfect equation. Have a good weekend. I …I’m sorry to rush, but Abrihet is expecting me back home.”

They stood together, said their farewells, and exited Java Perk, walking in separate directions on the busy street. It was late, but despite the hour, Metropolis never slept. Lois knew that Bernie had given her an important heads up. What to do about the courier? When Trey and the others had come up with the plan, no one considered taking Earth’s space agencies and their tracking abilities into account. Perhaps early tomorrow morning might be a good time for her to take a drive out to Palmetto beach and let the drone depart from there. Right now she needed to get back to Clark’s place and listen to the message he sent.

***

Lois sat on the couch and watched Clark’s handsome image, as always wearing a black jumpsuit with the El symbol on his chest, appeared before her. She was no longer in his apartment, but watching as he talked from the now familiar space of his study.

To the casual observer, he looked well, but by the tiny lines on his face, she knew he was not getting enough sleep. Was he eating enough? In the past, he could always count on his unique molecular structure to keep him healthy. But now with a beleaguered world to rule what kind of toll was the stress taking on him?

Hello Lois. It’s been a long thirty days and so much has happened. First, let me tell you about my visit to one of Kandor’s healing facilities. As always, Ching was with me, so I decided to leave the guardians behind, despite Master Tre-Vil’s insistence they come along. Tre-Vil and I had a fierce argument on the matter. My reasoning was simple; what possible harm could come to me at a healing facility? So we compromised and they rode in another vehicle as a rearguard. Honey, I am tired of not going anywhere without an escort.

Ching and I were there, in the burn unit, speaking to some of the healers and a few soldiers who had been injured. They were explaining how the BioRegen chambers heal the burn victims. The restorative factors are fantastic … bordering on miraculous! Pete and his ER team would have a field day here! They use silicone bandages on wounds to promote recovery and minimize scarring. Here on New Krypton regeneration allows the victim’s damaged skin to heal down to the molecular level. No fibrous scar tissue is seen. Lois, I plan on speaking to Lady Lo about sharing some of their healing techniques. We could help burn victims, many of them innocent children, regain their lives!

Lois paused the hologram and shook her head in wonderment. Despite everything negative he was facing, Clark was thinking about positive outcomes for his return home from his time at New Krypton. How she loved that man! Bernie Klein was right. An exchange of technology and medicine between the two worlds could prove invaluable to so many people. She planned on mentioning Bernie’s concerns as well as some kind of cultural exchange when recording his message. With that thought in mind, she continued the hologram.

Sadly, Clark’s message ended shortly after that comment about trading medical techniques. Apparently he needed to attend yet another meeting. She felt cheated, as if he had only given her slivers of time. She intended to tell him about that with her next message.

***

Lois knew she needed to ask the Kents an unusual favor. She picked up the phone, dialed and listened as it rang. Even with the time difference, it was getting pretty late, and she hoped this call wouldn’t wake them.

Hello? Jonathan answered. His gentle voice was soothing to her ears.

"Hi. Its Lois. Hope I’m not calling too late."

A quiet chuckle came over the line. Never too late to hear from our daughter. Hold on I’ll get your mother. He covered the receiver and Lois heard a muffled, Martha, pick up the extension. It’s Lois!

A lump formed in Lois’ throat. To anyone outside of their tight knit little family, it might seem odd that Jonathan called her that, yet hearing those words made her feel closer to the Kents. They were truly another set of parents.

As any family should, they depended on each other while Clark was on New Krypton. Lois dearly wished she could be on the farm to help with whatever chores needed doing. Thankfully, Maisie’s son, Ethan, was home from agricultural college for a semester. So far, he had been a great help to Jonathan and Martha and was proving to be something of a genius fixing Jonathan ancient tractor. It was a juggernaut from the late sixties, requiring constant maintenance. She knew that one of Clark’s greatest wishes before he departed for New Krypton had been to save enough money to purchase a new tractor for his father.

Lois? Martha’s voice broke in her thoughts as the older woman picked up the extension. Oh, honey, how are you doing? Is that big investigation still going on? How are Abrihet and Molly? Spending a little time with those two was just what you needed.

“Hi Martha. Yeah, I’m still working on it. There’s still a ways to go before we can finally nail the bad guys, but I’m confident it’s going to happen. Speaking of friends, someone dropped by my place unexpectedly.”

Oh? The Kents said together. It was unusual for the courier to arrive so early.

“Yes. Clark is okay. He told me about visiting a hospital.”

A hospital? That must have been different! I wish we could see those holograms for ourselves. It’s been way too long since we’ve seen our boy, Jonathan said wistfully.

Nothing would make us happier. Maybe you could ask Clark to send a message to us? Martha asked.

Lois’ heart sank, providing another reason why this conversation was so important. The Kents had been extremely patient regarding this entire situation. They deserved to receive a ‘letter’ from Clark just as much as she did, like those sailors from centuries past, that sent letters to wives, sweethearts, and parents. She wanted to provide that and in light of what Bernie said earlier this evening, perhaps it was time.

“Yeah …about that. I had a conversation with Bernie earlier this evening in regard to that particular thought. Trey had told me in the beginning sending a courier to me was a curtesy, as it was a drain on resources. Apparently the planet has bountiful soil for crops but is poor in metals. The majority of the ships that brought them to New Krypton have been dismantled and used for other purposes. New Krypton thrives in many ways, but this conflict takes their attention away from discovering new sources of metal.”

That must have been disappointing for them, Martha said.

“Yes, it is. Otherwise I’m certain Clark would send a courier to you, too, if one could have been spared. On the other hand, according to Bernie, astronomers have started to notice an object entering Earth’s atmosphere … monthly.”

The courier? Martha asked.

Oh no! The government is going to start tracking the drone to our boy’s apartment. Jonathan groaned.

Lois said. “No. Apparently whatever substance the drone is made of can confuse or deflect the satellite tracking systems EPRAD and NASA have in orbit…for now. I have to let Clark know the courier’s trajectory needs to change, make it seem erratic. I’m going to ask him to have it fly over midwestern United States, vanish, and then appear near Metropolis, and then, alter the flight pattern every time it returns to New Krypton.”

That should throw whoever’s watching off the scent. Lois, please tell Bernie ‘thank you’ for us, Jonathan said in his quiet way.


Lois said, “Bernie risked a great deal telling me this. Between that and Abrihet working to cheer me up, it proves they are real friends.”

As their friends, we cannot ask them to help with more information that might get them into trouble with S.T.A.R. Labs and the government… ‘cause that won’t be a nickel popper! Jonathan replied.

In the meantime, we should look for a new place for the courier to land. Martha said.

Hon, maybe we can receive the device at Hawthorn Hill? Clark knows about that huge pile of rocks.

Jonathan you are a genius! It’s perfect! Now that the shale is played out and the mining company is gone, no one goes up there. When does the courier usually arrive at Clark’s apartment Lois?

The conversation went on for a little while longer until Martha heard Lois tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. The older woman said. It’s been a long week. All of us need to get some rest. Get back to us with updates on Clark as soon as you can. Good night dear.

“Good night, Jonathan. Good night, Martha. I’ll call you soon.” With that the three ended their conversation.

She decided to record her response to the courier. She made certain her fiancé knew about Bernie’s information and the need for the courier to arrive in Kansas rather than Metropolis. After that, she spoken in an animated fashion about the apple cake made during last Friday night’s baking class as well as watching The Fugitive with Abrihet and Molly.

Link to Chapter 6

Reminder of content warning:




Clark wasn’t sure what to do. His stomach still felt full from the incredible pancake and strawberries he’d had for breakfast. Yet Martha had him sitting down at the table again while she sliced up an apple for him to have as a snack.

He took a careful sip from the cup she’d given him—more orange juice, since he’d liked it so much that morning. And just as he set the cup back down, he heard Jonathan’s footsteps behind him. He turned to look at the older man, who had stopped in the entryway to the kitchen. Jonathan glanced briefly at Clark, and Clark immediately blinked and lowered his eyes…

Nothing bad happened. In fact, nothing bad had happened at all since he’d come here, despite all the rules he’d broken. Still, Clark figured it was just a matter of time. Either he’d mess up, or they’d realize they hadn’t been punishing him for all of his mistakes. And he’d made a lot of them.

Fear coursed through him. It was a familiar feeling, but one that made him slightly dizzy, and he closed his eyes and held his breath as he straightened in his chair again.

From behind him, he heard Jonathan clear his throat, and he tried his best not to flinch as Jonathan spoke.

“I’ll be heading out to the grocery store and to grab those few things you wanted from Sadie’s, Martha,” Jonathan said. And his voice sounded…well, Clark wasn’t quite sure what, but it certainly didn’t sound angry. It had never sounded angry. Only ever…nice?

“Thank you,” Martha said. “Oh! I think I forgot to add chocolate chips to the list. If you remember while you’re out?”

Her voice was nice too. Always so nice and soft. And she was…really, really nice to him.

He opened his eyes and glanced up at Martha, who had turned to address Jonathan. Her eyes met Clark’s briefly, and she smiled. He quickly dropped his eyes again to where his hands were still wrapped around his cup.

“Chocolate chip cookies are Jonathan’s favorite, right Jonathan?”

“Very much so.”

“Would you like to help me make them later, Clark?”

His fingers tightened around the cup as he felt a sharp pain in his chest. “I—I don’t…know how.”

There was a short silence, and Clark heard Martha’s footsteps—soft and even—approach the table, but he didn’t look up.

“Well, I’d love to teach you,” Martha murmured as she set down a plate of apple slices in front of him.

He kept his eyes on his cup and willed his hands to stop their shaking. “I’m…” He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. He didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want to say it.

There was another of those short silences, and then Clark flinched as her hand settled softly on his back. He shook his head again.

“I’ll be back, maybe an hour?” Jonathan said quietly, and Clark heard Martha’s equally quiet reply, followed by the front door opening and closing a moment later.

“Clark…it’s…”

He felt a tear slip out down his cheek, and he quickly reached up and wiped it away, his hand still trembling. Martha’s hand rubbed his back gently.

“You know these cookies, they’re my grandma’s recipe. And she taught me how to make them when I was about your age,” Martha said. “I’d really love to show you, but it doesn’t have to be today, either.”

More tears fell, and he didn’t even know why he was crying. He brought both of his hands up to his face and scrubbed at his cheeks. He should probably tell her, so she didn’t get mad later when she found out.

But the words were really hard for him to say.

“I’m…not t-too…smart. Pa says—P-Pa said I…don’t know enough, and…” And he didn’t want to mess up, especially if chocolate chip cookies were Jonathan’s favorite. He really didn’t want to mess them up. But no more words would come, and he wiped more tears off his cheeks and then clasped his hands together in his lap, waiting.

Surely, she’d be upset. Ma had always been upset. Ma and Pa both.

But Martha didn’t respond right away. Her hand stopped moving on his back, and he heard her sniffle. He didn’t want to look up at her, see the disappointment in her eyes, so he just stared at his hands while more stupid tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Stupid boy, can’t get anything right.”

“Don’t you ever learn! Git the hell outta here before I get real mad.”

He closed his eyes again. “I-I’m…I’m sorry. I’m real sorry.”

“Oh, no, sweetie. There’s no need to apologize. And I’m…” Clark heard her sniffle again, and his lower lip began to tremble. “I bet you’ll make the best helper. Do you want me to show you the recipe?”

He wouldn’t be the best helper. He did know anything about cooking or baking or anything, and he couldn’t even read, and his hands were shaky, which probably wouldn’t make anything easier. Certainly there would be much, much better helpers than him. So why did she want his help?

He’d just disappoint her.

But as she rubbed his back again softly, he found himself nodding. He was curious about the recipe. He still didn’t think he could help, but maybe…

“Wonderful, sweetie. Let me just grab it, and we can read it together. Okay?”

He nodded again, and she stood and headed over toward the cupboards, returning just a moment later with a really thick red and white book.

“Here we go,” she said, sitting next to him. “These”—she set her hand on the cover of the book—“are alllll of my grandma’s recipes. She wrote them all down for me and gave me this book when Jonathan and I got married almost…oh, almost fifteen years ago now.”

Clark risked a quick glance up at her and saw her soft, kind smile. Then he blinked and looked back at the book. There were letters on the front cover, and he knew most of them, but he didn’t know the words they made. He swallowed hard and screwed his eyes shut.

“So, she put the cookies as the very first recipe here, because that’s what she was most known for. Everyone in the family loved her cookies. And this recipe is really special to me too. You know why?”

“Why?” he asked, and he opened his eyes again and looked up at her. She gazed back down at him, still smiling so…kindly. Her eyes were so gentle, and he didn’t immediately look away this time.

“Because this is also the very first thing I ever made for Jonathan.” Her smile brightened, and she shifted her gaze to the book as she flipped open the cover to the first page. “Here we go. Brown butter chocolate chip cookies.”

Clark sat up a little straighter so he could look at the page. It was a full page of handwritten words and some numbers. He swallowed hard again as he looked at the top. “B-brown butter?”

“Yep, so the trick is that instead of using regular butter, we cook the butter in a pan first to brown it. And that changes the flavor and makes the cookies sooooo much better.”

“Butter is yellow,” he said quietly, and he looked up at Martha, who was nodding with a big smile. “B-but if you…”

“If you cook it on high heat in a pan on the stove, it will turn brown,” she explained.

Blinking, Clark looked back at the page, but all the letters seemed to run together. He frowned and shook his head as he sat back in his chair. He felt his heart start to race.

“Dumb, useless child. Can’t even read. Go sit in the corner. I don’t wanna hear a peep from ye.”

“Here, sweetie, look at this.” Martha’s hand settled on his back again. “This says here that we can also add walnuts if we want. What do you think? Do you think we should add walnuts?”

She was pointing to one of the lines at the bottom of the page, marked with a little star. He stared at the words, wishing again that he could read them.

“D-does…does Jonathan l-like…them?” he asked slowly.

“Oh, that’s a great question, Clark. Actually, Jonathan prefers his cookies without nuts.”

“S-so we shouldn’t—we shouldn’t—we shouldn’t—” He scrunched his eyes shut and hit his forehead with one hand in frustration. The words stuck over and over and over. Sometimes they did that, and he couldn’t seem to keep going. He hated that. Pa hated that even more.

He hit himself again, wanting—needing—to reset his brain. But before he could do it again, Martha’s arms wrapped around him, and he felt himself pulled against her, out of his chair and into her arms. And it felt so warm and safe—as it had every time she’d held him. He curled up against her, shaking, and she rocked him gently and murmured quiet words of comfort, her voice muffled in his hair.

“Shh, sweetie, shh. It’s okay.”

When he finally stopped shaking several minutes later, she still held him tightly, rubbing his arm and rocking back and forth slowly.

“There we go, sweetie. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. P-please…please don’t be m-mad. P-please,” he stuttered, his heart still pounding. He was glad she was holding him, because he felt dizzy again, and he didn’t feel like he would be able to hold himself up.

“Oh, sweetie, no. I’m not mad. Why would…” She trailed off, and Clark buried his head into her shoulder as he started shaking again. There were a lot of reasons she should be mad.

But he didn’t say anything, and after a minute, she pushed back her chair a bit.

“Clark, sweetie, can you look at me?”

He shook his head and then choked back a sob. He was in so much trouble again.

“Okay, that’s…that’s fine. But listen, okay?” She paused for only a second before continuing. And when she did, her voice was quiet and soft, yet brimming with emotion. He thought maybe she was crying, but he didn’t look up. “Clark, I’m…not going to get mad at you or angry with you. I’m not upset, sweetie. And I won’t be. You are allowed to say what you want, what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking… Jonathan and I want to hear everything you have to say.”

Clark felt her arms tighten around him a bit, and she let out a long, shaky breath of her own.

“Maybe things were different with Ma and Pa,” she said quietly. “But…here in our house, you’re allowed all of that. Okay, sweetie?”

His jaw trembled, but he nodded.

“Good, and…it’s really very thoughtful of you to ask what Jonathan wants. But I also want to know what you want. Do you want to try nuts in your cookies? We could make half with and half without.”

“I…get to…have one?”

“If you want to, yes.”

“I…never…”

He pulled back just a little and looked up at her. She still had that kind smile, the same gentle blue eyes.

“You’ll get to today,” she said, and a wave of some strong emotion hit him as he lowered his head back against her shoulder. He felt her kiss the top of his head, and he closed his eyes. “Here, sweetie, let’s get started. We can get everything ready up until we add the chocolate chips. Then, when Jonathan gets back…”

She stood and carefully lowered him to the ground, supporting him until he got his bearings. Then, he followed as she picked up the cookbook and walked over to the counter.

“So, we’re going to need butter and eggs and…”



Clark carefully poured the mixture of flour and sugar and something else he couldn’t remember into the mixer, watching as the white fluffy powder churned, combining with the eggs and butter. Slowly, she’d said. Pour it in little by little, not all at once. And so he did just that.

Turned out he wasn’t half bad as a helper, or at least that’s what Martha kept telling him. She stood right next to him, one hand on his back, probably to make sure he didn’t accidently fall off the chair he was standing on.

And she reminded him as he poured the mixture. “That’s it, nice and slow… Give it a chance to mix before you add more… Yep, there, exactly.”

And when the bowl was empty, she took it from him and set it in the sink with the other dishes they’d already dirtied, and then helped him down off the chair.

“There we go. Great job, Clark! You did a wonderful job! I’m so glad to have you as my helper!”

Something about her words—the way she said them—made him look up at her. She leaned over the mixer to peer in at the cookie dough, one hand still on his shoulder, and he saw her smile. And it was bright and warm.

“I—” Martha straightened up and looked at him as he started to talk. Their eyes met, and he saw…he wasn’t quite sure what. Some emotion—whatever that emotion had been in her voice, maybe—he could see it in her eyes now. His chest filled with…pride? Maybe. He didn’t really know, but it felt good, and he somehow managed a small smile.

And that was worth everything so far. Because it made her smile brighten even more. And that felt amazing.

He tried his words again, closing his eyes and speaking very slowly so he didn’t stutter. “I liked to help you.”

When he opened his eyes again, Martha was still watching him, still smiling so brightly at him. He tried for another smile, since that had made her happier somehow.

“I’m so glad, sweetie,” she said, and she crouched down next to him and opened up her arms in invitation.

He barely hesitated before he wrapped his arms around her neck and let her hug him.

And that also felt amazing.



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Chapter 3



**Chapter 4**

The next morning, Lois and Clark stopped for coffee on a bustling street in Metropolis. While waiting for their order, their eyes were drawn to the sensational headlines displayed on a nearby newsstand:

**"Steamy Nights in Superman’s Fortress! Secrets from His Hidden Conquests"**
**"What’s Superman Hiding Beneath His Tight Suit?"**

Lois was the first to react, her face hardening instantly:
— It was bound to happen. These tabloids thrive on sleaze. Destroying the reputation of the man who has probably saved their lives a thousand times doesn’t seem to bother them.

Clark nodded, a resigned expression on his face:
— You know how it is. Anything that sells papers…

— I know, — Lois admitted, her anger rising — but these women giving testimonials, what exactly are they hoping for?

— Fifteen minutes of fame, probably. You’ve been a journalist for almost eight years. Does this really surprise you? — Clark replied, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

Lois turned toward him, her fury transforming into fierce loyalty. She placed her hands on his chest and locked eyes with him:
— Yes, but you… you don’t deserve this. You’re the most upright, honest, virtuous, and… innocent man I know.

Clark gave her a mischievous smile and whispered in her ear, his voice suddenly softer:
— My thoughts about you aren’t so innocent…

Lois couldn’t help but smile in return just as their lips met in a tender kiss.

The barista handed them their coffees, and they paid before heading back toward the *Daily Planet*.

— I have to admit, I’m not looking forward to heading out for a rescue. I’m worried about the kind of reception I’ll get, — Clark said.

Lois was about to respond when a journalist accompanied by a photographer approached them:

— Well, look who we have here! Superman’s girlfriend. Lois, how are you coping with your lover’s infidelities? — he taunted.

— Ronnie Westfield, the crème de la crème of fiction writers posing as journalists. I think you should open a dictionary and look up the definition of your profession, — Lois shot back acidly. — Oh, wait, I forgot. You can’t read anything that’s not a lie.

— Good one, Lois. Did Superman whisper that in your ear during pillow talk? — he replied with a smug grin.

Clark clenched his teeth, furious but knowing he had to remain calm. Lois, sensing her husband’s irritation, stood taller, ready to defend their honor.

— That’s enough, Ronnie, — Lois said firmly. — Even for you, this is low.

Ronnie smirked, unfazed.
— Take it easy, sweetheart. It’s not my fault your “super friend” can’t keep himself to just one woman…

Clark balled his fists but stayed still, careful not to make any move that might reveal his true nature.

— Always so classy, — Lois murmured sarcastically.

— If you spent as much time verifying your facts as you do tarnishing reputations, you might be a respectable journalist. But then again, that would require more talent than you have, — Clark concluded with a cold smile.

Ronnie, pleased with his little stunt, adjusted his jacket with a sly grin.
— Nice defense, Kent. But admit it, it must be hard knowing that your “buddy” Superman has… let’s say, peculiar tastes.

Clark, though stung by the comment, restrained himself. He knew any sudden or violent reaction could endanger his secret.

— Ronnie, if you spent as much time seeking the truth as you do insulting others, you might be taken seriously one day, — Clark retorted calmly, without raising his voice.

Ronnie smiled wider, thinking he had won the exchange.
— We’ll see, Kent. Truths always come out, and your “friend” Superman might not come out unscathed, — he said as he walked away with his photographer.

Lois, seeing her husband’s irritation, gently squeezed his hand.
— They can say whatever they want. Superman is bigger than these rumors. And so are you.

Clark nodded, grateful for Lois’s support, and they continued on to the *Daily Planet*, keeping their composure amid the media storm.

---

**Intergang Headquarters**

Mindy was savoring the scene in front of her television. The entire media, print and broadcast, had picked up on the scandal she had orchestrated. However, one thorn remained: the *Daily Planet*. Not a single word about the affair. The paper, known for its unwavering support of Superman, remained silent.

— Fine! If the *Daily Planet* doesn’t want to play along, we’ll have to hit even harder. Bob, darling, I’ll need you to… — she murmured into the ear of the man beside her, her words barely audible.

Bob chuckled in response.
— Excellent idea, Mrs. Church! I’ll take care of it right away, Mrs. Church.

---

**Daily Planet**

It was time for the morning editorial meeting. Lois and Clark sat side by side as usual. Perry had just announced the previous week’s numbers.

— I think these excellent results are largely thanks to our star reporting duo! Well done, Lois and Clark! Now, what’s on deck to keep the momentum this week? — he asked his team.

Ralph tried to speak up:
— I’ve got a story from a call girl claiming she’s spent countless nights with Superm—

— I don’t want to hear a single word about that, nor waste a drop of ink on this nonsense! — Perry thundered. — No sane person can believe these absurdities!

— But the photos… — Ralph attempted again.

— Slander, a setup, doctored images! Superman would never stoop so low.

— If I had Superman’s powers and women at my feet, I wouldn’t mind stooping that low, — a sports journalist muttered to his neighbor.

Perry shot him a withering glare.

— Clark, when you see Superman, make sure he knows we’re on his side!

— He knows, Perry, but I’ll pass along the message, — Clark replied calmly.

— So, what are you two working on?

— We’re still trying to track down who orchestrated last week’s events and uncover the source of this campaign against Superman.

— Good, good, — Perry said, turning to another journalist. — Mark, how’s the mayor’s press conference on consolidating firehouses coming along?

Clark didn’t hear the rest, his super-hearing picking up a cry for help. Lois stepped in to cover for him:

— Perry, sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got a meeting with a source about the deaths of the brothers…

— Fine, go on. I’m done with you two anyway.

They slipped out together. Lois whispered to her husband as soon as they were out of earshot:

— What do you hear?

— A woman threatening to jump off the Metropolis Bridge!

— Go, I’ll meet you there, — she said, planting a quick kiss on his lips before they parted in the stairwell. Clark bounded up the steps, transforming in a whirl of colors.

Chapter 5

TOC

Uh-oh. This is not good.

Yes. And Mindy Church is going to spin it against him.

Unfortunately I'm sure that story will be splashed on the front page of the tabloids.

Andreia

Perry always knows more than he's willing to admit.

It's a trap, Clark!

Andreia