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Um...yeah.

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Summary: Lois and Clark have hit a roadblock in an investigation they’ve been working on for weeks. When Perry offers up an unconventional lead that might allow them to crack the case, Clark reluctantly agrees.

Author’s note: I…don’t know. Read at your own risk. This came from somewhere. I think it was a challenge issued by KSaraSara on Discord, which arose in the general chaos that happened after KateSO posted some generated images of Superman pole dancing… So, um, enjoy?


Nope
By Bek


“Nope! Nuh-uh. Perry, you can’t be serious?!”

“Now, Lois, take it easy. I’m sure Clark’s a total professional, and he can handle it. Right, Clark?”

“As his wife, I’m vetoing this idea. It’s just not okay!”

“Need I remind you, Lois, of the time you went undercover and ended up in a skin-tight chicken costume with bright yellow feathers?”

“Butt out, Jimmy, no one was asking you!”

“Lois, I think we should let Clark speak for himself on this one.”

The whole room turns to me. Lois has that look—the one that says if I don’t agree with her, she’s never going to speak to me again. Jimmy’s just…grinning. And Perry, well, he looks like he’s confident I’m going to agree.

I don’t think I’ve ever liked an idea less than this one. But we’ve been chasing this story for weeks now, and this is the first real lead we’ve had.

“I, uh…”

Lois’s eyes narrow. If she had heat vision, I’d be a pile of ashes right now.

“Don’t say it, Clark.”

I grimace and back up a step. And she shakes her head, because she knows what I’m thinking.

“Ah, I—”

“Clark!”

“Lois, it’s the only lead we’ve got. It’ll be fine, I promise. Trust me?”

She’s so mad, she can’t even respond. She throws her hands up in the air and storms out, and I flinch as the door slams shut behind her.

Then I let out a long breath and look up at Perry. “When do I start?”




The Body Shop.

God, what have I gotten myself into?

The back door is unlocked, and I let myself in. I’m immediately met by a young woman, who takes my “name”—Charlie King—and with a wink that somehow travels my whole body, she turns and leads me to a tiny dressing room.

I’m a little surprised that there are really no…auditions or anything. But Perry said he knew someone who knew someone, and somehow, I guess I was just…put on their “roster.”

“You’re third up tonight. Costume’s on the rack.”

“Got it,” I say. And it’s not until I shut the door and turn around that I truly understand how bad this idea really, really is.




Yeah, it’s about as bad as I thought.

The same woman who brought me into the dressing room knocks on my door not five minutes later and yells, “You’re up!”

And I…try. Nerves of steel? Nope.

She knocks again, yells something else that contains a few expletives, and then pushes the door open. Her eyes widen with a hungry look as she sees me.

“Ohhhhhh, yeah, that’ll do,” she says with another wink. “Almost better than the real thing. Come on.”

I’m going to die of embarrassment.

Or something like that.

Over the din of the music—god, they’re really playing “I’m Too Sexy”—I can somehow hear a very familiar heartbeat, and I nearly blow my cover right there, even as this woman is grabbing my arm to push me past other half-naked men and staff members.

What is she doing here?

I look through the walls, out to the main room, ignoring the nausea as I see the packed room, everyone’s eyes glued to the stage where I suppose I’ll be “dancing” any minute now. And there she is. Sitting right in the front row. Wearing some terrible blonde wig that looks about as fake as the costume I’m wearing right now.

She’s got a martini and a bunch of dollar bills.

God. She’s gonna kill me. I mean, if I were vulnerable.

“What’s the matter, got stage fright? You’re on, big boy!” The woman pushes open the door just as a new song starts—“Pour Some Sugar on Me”… God, nope, I’m not living this down, ever—and then she shoves me out there.




It’s worse than I thought.

I should have listened to my wife. And she knows it. Whenever my eyes catch hers, I can’t tell if she’s laughing at me or if she’s still angry. She’s definitely…possessive. Security almost threatens to remove her the first time she shoves another woman out of the way when I get a little too close to the edge of the stage. And I’m trying to tune out everything and just, uh, “dance” while I scan the room, but all the catcalls and cheering and…leering make it all really, really difficult.

Just as the last verse begins, I finally see who I’m looking for, and I dance toward Lois, moving as best I can with the music. God, this spandex is itchy, which is saying a lot since my skin is invulnerable. And the cape isn’t nearly long enough to cover…me.

When I reach just in front of Lois, she’s looking at me differently. A look I definitely recognize. And I have to shake myself to remember where we’re at.

I do some move that’s supposed to look sexy or something, and she’s cheering along with the rest of the crowd as she reaches up and stuffs a few dollar bills in the “belt” of my costume. Good cover, I suppose. I lean over closer.

“Back table, closest to the bar.”

She nods, and before I can straighten up, she stuffs another couple of dollars in my belt. And the music ends.




“Here’s to Lane and Kent! Hottest team in town! Another front-page scoop, and another criminal behind bars!”

With a huge grin on his face, Perry holds up the morning’s edition, and the newsroom erupts in cheers. That should be the end of it.

But I’m not that lucky.

I get plenty of shoulder pats and a few handshakes from my colleagues. Then Ralph walks up, the sneer on his face at least a mile wide.

“Congrats, you two!” he says, raising both eyebrows in tandem as he looks from me to Lois. He steps a little closer to me and prods me with his elbow. “Heard there was a ‘super’ performance!”

“Shut up, Ralph,” Lois says, and she grabs my arm and starts dragging me toward her desk. “Come on, Clark. We’ve got work to do.”

Ralph is unfazed as he follows behind us. “Wish I’d been there to see it,” he continues. “You know, to, uh, learn from the best of the best.”

I groan, but my cheeks are hot, and I can feel Lois about to explode. “Ralph…” I warn. But he keeps going.

“I’ve always wanted to see how you top investigative reporters work, you know, to…uncover the bare truth.”

He laughs at his own joke, and Lois snaps. She spins around and starts laying into him with words I didn’t even know were in her vocabulary.

And I just stand back and watch.

I should probably stop her. I should probably step in, make sure no one gets hurt. Or, uh, make sure Ralph doesn’t get hurt.

But I don’t.

Nope.



Comments

Chapter 9

Please put any comments here. Thank you!

In case you are just joining us: TOC

Chapter 9

The hospital corridors were quieter in the morning, the usual rustle of overnight charts and murmured updates giving way to the soft shuffle of nurses beginning rounds. Kal stepped out of the elevator, tapping his cane lightly against the
linoleum. He didn’t need a guide. He remembered the route to her room with practiced clarity.

Room 428. Third door on the left past the nurses' station. But as he neared it, he slowed. Her voice floated into the hallway—low, clipped, unmistakably irritated.

“I’m fine, I can walk.”

Kal knocked lightly against the doorframe. “You always say that when you’re about to fall over.”

Inside, Lois looked up from where she stood, one hand braced against the edge of the bed, the other clutching her discharge papers. “You’re early.”

“You’re upright.”

“Barely,” added a nurse, who was gathering the last of Lois’s vitals from the machines. “She’s been pacing since they cleared her to leave.”

Lois rolled her eyes, but Kal could hear the smile behind it. “Since you’re here,” she said, reaching for her phone, “let me call Perry and tell him he doesn’t need to come get me.”

Kal crossed the room, his cane angled carefully to avoid the IV stand. “You sure you’re up for this?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t bother trying.”

She dialed quickly, holding the phone between shoulder and ear while she eased herself down onto the edge of the bed.

“I’ll get her home,” Kal said quietly, more to himself than to the nurse still making notes on a chart.

The nurse gave him a once-over, then nodded. “Just make sure she actually rests. And keeps the ice pack on.”

Lois ended the call and dropped the phone into her bag. “Perry says to tell you you’re braver than he is,” she muttered, reaching for her coat. “They’re making me ride out like I’ve broken both legs.”

“It’s standard procedure,” the nurse said patiently, jotting something onto a clipboard.

In the lobby, Kal moved to her side as she stood, careful not to rush her. When her hand brushed against his arm for balance, she didn’t pull away—and neither did he. They exited the hospital together, Lois leaning slightly but not heavily.

The sun had just started climbing over the Metropolis skyline, casting soft gold through the city streets, when the taxi pulled up outside Lois’s apartment building. Kal stayed close as they made their way to her apartment, quiet during the ride, quieter still while helping her settle in.

Lois winced as she shifted on the couch, adjusting the ice pack nestled against her ribs. “I’m not made of glass, you know.”

“You sure?” Kal asked, not looking up from where he stood by the kitchen counter, carefully pouring hot water into two mismatched mugs. “Because the way you just hissed at that movement tells a different story.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was exhaling.”

“You were wincing.”

“I can do both.”

Kal didn’t answer. He picked up the mugs—one in each hand—his grip precise, practiced. He moved slowly across the room, navigating around the coffee table and stopping in front of her with the same ease he’d used the night before in the hospital. She took the tea with a muttered “thanks,” holding it between both hands like a peace offering.

They didn’t say much after that—just sipped quietly, letting the silence settle.

As Kal knocked on her door the next morning, he prepared himself for the fact that Lois was going to want to get back in the action today. Lois didn’t sit idle and it had taken every bit of his coercing to keep her at the apartment. Today, he knew all of his efforts to get her to rest would be unsuccessful.

He hadn’t hovered, exactly, but he hadn’t been far either. She didn’t mind. Not really.

But she wasn’t used to stillness.

“This is killing me,” she muttered.

Kal raised an eyebrow. “The pain?”

“The waiting.”

She leaned forward—too fast—and winced again, biting back a curse. Kal didn’t say anything. Just waited, letting her gather herself.

“I need to get back to work,” she said after a beat. “I need to do something.”

“You need to heal.”

“I’m healing.”

“You’re pretending.”

Lois glared at him over the rim of her mug. “What happened to not hovering?”

“I’m not hovering,” Kal said calmly. “I’m sitting. While you argue with yourself.”

That earned him a narrow-eyed look, but not a retort. Outside the window, the early morning light stretched across the street. The city felt muffled, somehow—like everything had slowed to match her pace. She hated it.

“I’ve already fallen behind,” she said. “Whatever Intergang is doing—we both know they’re not going to wait around while I ice my ribs.”

Kal’s fingers tapped the edge of his cup, thoughtful. “Then we go slow. We work smart. You rest between leads.”

“You’re not going to try to stop me?”

He shook his head. “I know that’s not possible.”

That pulled a smile from her—small, but genuine.

“Besides,” he added, “you’d find a way around me.”

“You’re damn right I would.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight between them easing slightly.

Then Lois leaned forward again, slower this time. “We need to start with zoning records. The shell companies. Something isn’t right there. It’s too clean. Too deliberate.”

Kal nodded, setting his tea aside. “I’ll make the calls.”

“And I’ll pull the archived tax filings. There’s a storage facility near City Hall that’s been used by the old redevelopment committee. It’s a mess, but—”

“You’ll need a ride,” Kal said, already standing.

Lois opened her mouth to argue, then caught herself.

“I’ll need a ride,” she repeated, grudgingly.

Kal reached for his coat. “Then let’s get to work.”

They left the apartment without much more discussion—Lois clutching a folder of scribbled notes, Kal moving with quiet focus as he guided her to the car. Neither of them said it out loud, but something had shifted. They weren’t picking up where they left off—they were figuring out how to move forward, together.

Working together again felt strangely familiar—and yet, undeniably different. Kal remained tense, alert, trying to keep from easing back into the natural way he worked together with Lois as Clark. It was like walking a minefield, and he felt like he was one wrong step away from the explosion that was Mad Dog Lane.

Following a step behind Lois, they made their way through a long-forgotten municipal archive. The low hum of overhead fluorescents buzzed against the dusty silence of the records room. Lois narrated aloud as she flipped through files, reading summaries, clucking disapprovingly at redactions.

Kal listened closely, occasionally chiming in with questions, analysis, or follow-ups she hadn’t considered yet. They had slipped into a rhythm quickly—not the same as before, but close enough to unsettle them both.

“I missed this,” Lois said once, almost under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

Kal tilted his head toward her. “Digging through tax records in a moldy basement?”

A small huff of a laugh. “Working with someone who keeps up.”

He didn’t answer, just nodded slightly, letting the compliment hang between them.

They uncovered a pattern—properties in the Southside changing hands too quickly, tied to fake companies, eventually linking back to shell corporations. One name surfaced again and again: CostMart. It was subtle. Intentional. Clean on the surface, but too tidy. A front for something bigger.

The connections weren’t definitive—not yet—but they were enough. Enough to point to Intergang’s expansion into Oklahoma, specifically Norman.

That night, Kal couldn’t sleep.

He lay in his hotel bed, listening to the muted sounds of the city, Lois’s earlier words echoing in his mind. I missed this. He had too. The back-and-forth, the energy of chasing a lead, of fitting pieces together until the truth took shape.

But it came with something else. A pressure he hadn’t felt since before the accident. Not just the weight of the story, but the feeling that he should be doing more.

That pressure came to a head the next afternoon.

They had split up temporarily—Lois checking a source downtown, Kal reviewing a city council archive on zoning disputes. As he waited outside the building for his ride, he heard it. A voice. A scream. Somewhere nearby, someone was in trouble.

He stiffened.

It wasn’t a cry for help—yet. But it was the beginning of one.

Kal’s grip tightened on his cane. His hearing focused, filtering background noise until he found the source. Alleyway. South by southeast. Half a block.

He started toward it.

Then froze.
He didn’t know the layout. Didn’t know what he would walk into. If he moved wrong—if he acted on instinct and was wrong—someone could get hurt. He could hurt someone.

And he couldn’t risk that.

His heart pounded in his ears. He stood there, torn between instinct and paralysis, until the tension finally broke with sirens in the distance. Someone else had called for help. Someone else would handle it.

But the damage was done.

He returned to the hotel shaken, quieter than usual.

Lois noticed immediately. “You okay?”

Kal nodded. “Just tired.”

She didn’t press. He didn’t elaborate.

The next morning, Kal packed his things.

Lois stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “You’re leaving.”

“I need to follow the Oklahoma lead,” he said simply. “It’s where the trail leads next.”

She stared at him, unconvinced. “You sure that’s the only reason?”

Kal hesitated, then shook his head slightly. “No.”

Lois waited.

“There was a moment yesterday,” he admitted. “Someone was in trouble. I heard it. I wanted to help.” He looked down at his hands. “But I froze. I didn’t trust myself to move.”

The silence stretched.

“I’m not ready,” he said softly. “I want to be. I’m trying to be. But I’m not there yet.”

Lois didn’t say anything for a long time. Then, finally, she nodded. “Then go figure it out.”

Kal gave her a faint, grateful smile.

“I’ll call when I have something,” he added.

“You better,” she replied. “Because if you don’t, I will come to Oklahoma and chew you out in front of the entire newsroom.”

Link to Chapter 8

Thank you all for your patience, again. Life.... Yeah. It's been great but stressful.

Hope you love this chapter!
-Bek

*hides*

Sorry, y'all. Life is life-ing. Here's chapter 8!

And if you need it:
Link to TOC
Link to Chapter 7





By early Saturday afternoon, the storm finally subsided, and the clouds cleared up outside, the sun bringing with it a pleasant warmth.

Martha took the opportunity to coax Clark out onto the front porch, and the three of them sat outside and had a late lunch of sandwiches, strawberries, and fresh-out-of-the-oven brown butter chocolate chip cookies. Jonathan spoke quietly while they ate, telling Clark a little bit about the farm. He explained that the farm had been in Jonathan’s family for four generations and that their main crops were corn, wheat, and apples. He told Clark about the pond, how he’d love to take Clark there and show him how to fish sometime. And he explained how he’d helped his dad rebuild the barn after a fire had destroyed the original structure when he was just about Clark’s age.

Martha watched silently as Clark picked at his food, not with disinterest but with…discomfort, maybe? He kept eyeing the cookie on his plate and then attempting to take another bite of his sandwich, but he seemed…

Her eyes widened with realization, and she sighed, a little too loudly. Jonathan cut off mid-sentence, and Clark glanced up at her briefly, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

“Martha?”

“Sorry, Jonathan,” she said, forcing the smile back on her face. She looked at Clark again, who was now staring at his plate, his jaw clenched tightly. “Sweetie, hey, are you…still full from breakfast and your snack a couple hours ago? You don’t have to eat your whole sandwich before you have your cookie.”

And Clark did what he usually did when he was unsure. He closed his eyes tightly and didn’t say anything, his little body tensing up as though he was preparing to…what? Get in trouble?

She frowned as she glanced up at Jonathan, who watched Clark with a soft expression.

“Hey, buddy, how about this…” Jonathan started, and he paused until Clark opened his eyes just a little and shot a careful glance Jonathan’s way. Then Jonathan smiled brightly at him. “You take…one more bite of your sandwich—it’s really yummy, isn’t it?”

Clark nodded quickly.

“Yeah, Martha makes the best sandwiches. Anyways, you take one more good bite, and then you can have your cookie. How does that sound? Do you think you can do that?”

“Y-yes, I—I think so.”

“Great! Martha, what do you think?”

The child turned to look at her, and she saw the tiniest bit of hope in his beautiful dark eyes. She really didn’t want to put any stipulation on him getting to eat his cookie, but she understood why Jonathan had made the suggestion, and that broke her heart even more. So she just smiled brightly and nodded.

“I think that’s a great idea. One more good bite should be plenty.”

Part of it was that Clark really needed to eat. Doc McMillan had told them he was indeed severely underweight, small for his age in a way that Doc suspected had nothing to do with Clark just being a small boy.

Also—and she understood this, but again didn’t really like it one bit—Clark seemed to need to have a “rule” or…something. He obviously was not used to being given options, to being given…anything. And she could easily see the uncertainty, the unease he felt whenever he was given a choice or asked some opened-ended question. She definitely didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

She also didn’t want him to feel obligated to make himself uncomfortable—to make himself eat more than his body could currently handle—just to get the “reward” of being allowed to have his cookie.

And Jonathan seemed to understand her concern, even without her saying anything out loud. He gave her a tight smile and nod as though to reassure her, and her discomfort faded just a bit. She took the final bite of her own sandwich as she watched Clark pick up his sandwich with trembling hands. He took a big bite, as though he felt that was required of him, and then ate the last strawberry on his plate, for good measure.

Then, after he swallowed, he reached for the cookie, some eagerness in his eyes and a small smile on his lips. He paused just before his fingers touched the cookie, and his face fell as he looked at Jonathan.

“Can I…?”

“Of course, buddy,” Jonathan answered, sounding stoic and confident. But Martha heard the hitch in his breath as they both saw Clark’s expression light up—just a little.

“Th-thank you,” Clark said, and he glanced at Martha briefly before picking up the cookie and taking the tiniest of bites.

He didn’t say anything, but his face told it all—his eyes closed lightly as he chewed, and his lips curled up at the corners.

“It’s good, right?” Jonathan said, smiling at Clark.

Clark nodded and opened his eyes, and they flickered with a brightness, an eagerness that made Martha’s heart soar.

She blinked back tears and turned her attention back to her now-empty plate in her lap. Jonathan had to go do the afternoon chores—feed the animals, milk the cows, get started on just a little bit of the cleanup he had to do after the storm. And she had some cleaning and a few other things she needed to get done. Clark was still supposed to be resting as much as possible—orders from Doc—but she was reluctant to suggest he go take a nap or to leave him on his own for any amount of time.

And she really wasn’t quite sure why the reluctance. He was a ten-year-old boy. Certainly he would be used to… She closed her eyes tightly and tried to steady herself as her heart stuttered.

He wasn’t a normal ten-year-old boy. He hadn’t had any sort of normal childhood. She knew that, just from how he acted and what Jonathan had told her about that house he’d lived in. As far as they knew, he hadn’t had any formal schooling, and she was fairly sure he didn’t know how to read or write, add or subtract… She recalled too how awkward he’d looked trying to color in the dinosaur coloring book that morning—like his fingers weren’t even sure how to hold the crayon. Once she’d shown him, he figured it out pretty quickly, but…

“I’ve gotta get out to the barn,” Jonathan said, pulling Martha out of her introspection. She looked up at him and nodded. “And I spoke with Wayne this morning. The storm really tore through overnight, knocked down several trees and part of the fence line at the back of his property, where it meets up with old Schuster’s field. He asked if I might help him out to fix that up this afternoon too. Actually…” Jonathan paused, and his eyes darted briefly to his watch and then Clark. “I maybe should go do that first. But if you need me to stay close by…?”

She heard all the words he didn’t say, of course. And she smiled and shook her head. “Go on over to help Wayne. Clark and I will be fine hanging out here, won’t we, sweetie?”

Clark had just stuffed the last of his cookie in his mouth—having foregone his tiny bites for much larger ones, and his mouth was completely full. He stopped chewing and looked at her almost nervously, but nodded.

Jonathan grinned. “Good then. I’ll be back before dark.” He stood and picked up all of their plates. “Lemme take these inside for you, and then I’ll head out.”

“Thank you, Jonathan.”

A few minutes later, she waved goodbye as Jonathan climbed into the pickup and then started it up and drove off down the driveway toward the main road. A light breeze set the wind chimes jingling, and she took a deep breath and then stood up herself, turning to Clark with a smile.

“I’ve got some chores of my own to do, but first…” She hesitated as she watched him bite his lower lip and drop his eyes. What was going on in that little mind of his, and how could she…make him feel better? She took another deep breath, and he looked back up at her.

God, his eyes… They were so full of so many things, and she felt a fierce protectiveness come over her like nothing she’d ever felt before. She reached out her hand. “Come on, sweetie, let’s head inside and… Say, do you like Legos? Jonathan picked up a really neat rocket ship Lego set from Sadie’s while he was out this morning.”

Clark took her hand slowly, but his face showed confusion as he stood with her help. “I—I don’t know wh-what Legos are,” he said quietly. And before she could respond, he asked, “C-can you…show me?”

The question was both heartbreaking and hopeful, and fresh tears threatened as she nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! Oh my, you’re in for a big treat! Legos are so fun!”

And he held onto her hand tightly as she led them back inside.



“Here, now, turn the page, and let’s see how it ends…”

Clark eagerly reached up and turned the final page, keeping a steady hold on the book as he leaned back against Martha’s chest. She looked over his shoulder, smiling at the familiar words. She had read this book to the first-grade class from Smallville Elementary when they had gone on a field trip to the library several weeks ago, and they’d all loved it just as much as Clark seemed to.

She tightened her arm around him in a small hug, and he pointed to the first word in the sentence, which was written in all capital letters.

“What does it say?”

“It says, ‘“SO, catch!” calls the Once-ler. He lets something fall. “It’s a Truffula Seed. It’s the last one of all. You’re in charge of the last of the Truffula Seeds. And Truffula Trees are what everyone needs. Plant a new Truffula. Treat it with care. Give it clean water. And feed it fresh air. Grow a forest. Protect it from axes that hack. Then the Lorax and all of his friends may come back.”’ The end!”

“Oh, wow,” Clark said, his voice low. He looked up at her in awe, the biggest smile she’d seen from him yet plastered on his face. His eyes almost sparkled. “The Once-ler was…not a good person, but he…changed.”

Martha nodded. “Took him a little while to figure it out. He didn’t care at first how his actions affected others, right?”

Clark nodded and looked back down at the book, his tiny little fingers reaching out to trace under the first few words on the last page.

“But then,” she continued, “he realized how he was hurting all the animals and plants, and how damaging it was.”

She watched quietly as Clark seemed to process this, and he frowned.

“But…but one little boy…isn’t enough to—to ch-change…” His voice was small, and he seemed to shrink into her a bit, closing the book.

“Oh, sweetie, no. One person, little or not, certainly can change the world. Even if that just means changing the world for one person, making one person’s life better.”

Clark touched the front cover of the book and then smiled a little, and Martha’s breath caught. The expression—the little hint of a smile on his lips—seemed to be getting easier for him, and each time, it seemed to last a little longer.

She hugged him tighter again, her heart feeling so happy and full when he didn’t tense up this time. She wanted to tell him how much he’d already changed her world—how much he’d already made her small part of the world so much better. But she held back, watching him as he traced the letters on the front of the book with one finger, his smile slowly fading.

“What are you thinking, sweet boy?” she asked quietly, and his hand stilled.

He shook his head but then mumbled, “Um, I…” and tapped his finger on the first word, “The,” at the top—a red word set in the yellow tufts of a Truffula Tree.

“Do you…know all the letters?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head again, and this time she did feel his body tense up. “N-no. I…I’m not…not smart, and… Pa said—”

“Do you want me to teach you, sweetie?” She hated interrupting him, but a strong wave of anger had flowed through her when he mentioned not being smart, and even though she probably needed to learn all she could about how Clark had been raised, she really had no desire to hear what Jacob Peterson had told Clark about himself. Or to have Clark have to repeat whatever those untruths had been now.

“Y-yes, p-please,” he answered, unsteadily, but with a little hope in his voice. “I know…this is—is a T.” He pointed to the first letter in “The” and then looked up at her, uncertainty in his eyes.

“That’s absolutely right. It’s the letter T. And the way it’s written there is called ‘capitalized.’ Every letter has two forms—uppercase or capitalized and lowercase.”

Clark bit his lip and lowered his eyes back to the page, moving his finger to point to the next letter. “Wh-what is this one?”

“That’s an H, but it’s lowercase, and the next letter—”

“Is an E?”

“Yes! Very good. And the letters T-H-E together spell the word ‘The,’ as in The Lorax.”

“T…H…E… ‘The.’” He pointed at each of the letters as he said them and then looked up at her, the hint of hope in his expression again.

With a huge smile and another nod, she brought both arms around him and hugged him gently. “Yes, sweetie, that’s so great! That’s just right.”

He let her hug him, and then quickly, as though he were worried she would soon tire of this, he pointed to the next word. “This says, ‘L-Lorax’?”

“Exactly. The letters are…”




Link to Comments

Part 1 and comments

Series TOC

Hello again!

Since Stuck in the Dark is finished, I thought I would tackle a rewrite of my first complete fanfic Zoe Meta. Unlike SitD which morphed into a completely different story, I have tried my best to keep this one as close to the same story line as the original Zoe Meta. It may take a small detour when we get close to the end because I didn't really like my original ending when I wrote it and now, too many years to count later, I still don't like it. That part hasn't been (re)written yet, but I just wanted to give a heads up for those who read the original that this one may take a slightly different turn toward the end. In my efforts to keep the story line similar, there are some things that don't make too much sense irl. Instead of trying to 'fix' them, I decided to employ the device that sometimes happens in fiction and pretend like it wouldn't be an issue. What you will find in the future chapters is (hopefully) an improvement on the original but not perfect. Changing too much would have made it a completely different story and that wasn't the goal. Enough rambling... on with Zoe Meta v2

Zoe Meta v2

Disclaimer: Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman is the property of Warner Bros. and DC Comics, to which all rights to the characters belong. Some of the dialogue from the show may have been used in the writing of this piece. No copyright infringement is intended in this fictional piece. No profit has been, is, or will be obtained.

Prologue

May 12, 1996 – Big Girls Don't Fly original airdate

"It's over, everything's over…" Lois cried as she felt her world falling down around her. "I shouldn't have let him go…"

Four years later...

The hum of the hotel heater was the only sound accompanying Lois Lane as she sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the unopened laptop across the room. The assignment had been a dead end. Perry had sent her to Tulsa to investigate a supposed scandal involving the Williams Company, and she had turned over every stone, asked every question, followed every lead—and found nothing. Not a single thread worth pulling.

She’d emailed Perry hours ago. He hadn’t replied. He probably wouldn’t. Not tonight.

The hotel room felt like every other hotel room she’d stayed in lately—dim, temporary, impersonal. A vague smell of detergent lingered in the air, trying and failing to mask the scent of mildew seeping in from the hallway. A lamp flickered slightly in the corner. She didn’t bother fixing it.

She reached for the remote and flipped through the local channels. It was all background noise. Static behind the buzz in her head. Even when she landed in Oklahoma, she'd known this one felt wrong—like chasing shadows. The Williams Company had as much to do with corporate fraud as the Easter Bunny did with tax season.

Her eyes fell on the folded newspaper sitting on the nightstand: The Daily Oklahoman. She picked it up absentmindedly, flipping pages without focus, until one headline caught her eye:

TINKER AIR FORCE BASE IN JEOPARDY AGAIN

The byline read: By Boone Voss.

Lois froze. She read the article again. And then again.

The phrasing. The cadence. The crisp yet compassionate voice. It wasn't just good reporting—it was familiar. Her chest tightened. It reminded her of someone she hadn’t let herself think about in a long time.

Clark.

She set the paper down, but her hands trembled. Her thoughts spiraled.

No. It’s been four years. He’s gone.

But that writing—it was him. It had to be.

She stood and began pacing the room. Her fingers combed through her hair, tugging lightly at the ends as she walked back and forth across the worn carpet. She could feel the tear in her composure widening. For years, she had trained herself not to fall into this space—this haunted place where hope tried to crawl out from under grief.

He was gone. Superman was gone. Clark was gone. Her partner, her best friend, her not-quite-husband, the man who never got to meet his son—he had left and never come back.

And yet.

The way that article was written. The attention to detail. The nuance. The soft threads of moral weight woven through every sentence. It was the kind of story Clark would write. Not out of ambition or competition or even to impress Perry. He wrote to make people understand, to feel something, to care.

Her hands clenched into fists. She was angry now—angry at herself for hoping. Angry that four years later, an anonymous article could undo all her careful scar tissue. Angry that she’d seen a ghost on a newsprint page.

Tears welled up, uninvited. She swiped at them furiously. “Get a grip,” she whispered. “You’re not eighteen.”

The truth was, she had stopped feeling like herself the day he left. Since then, she had gone through the motions—chasing leads, filing reports, raising her son, loving him fiercely and alone. But her words no longer lit up the page the way they used to. Her instincts were dulled. Her victories rang hollow.

They all said it would get easier. They were wrong. She had learned to walk again after her world was shattered, but she still carried the limp. Metaphorically. Maybe physically, too.

She crossed the room and slammed the lid of the laptop shut.

There was no story here. Nothing but shadows. She was wasting time, wasting Perry’s time.

The only thing worth doing now was heading to Smallville. She’d already told Martha she might visit while she was in Oklahoma. Originally, it was going to be a weekend trip. But now—now she needed solid ground.

Martha had always known how to steady her.

She grabbed her phone and dialed.

“Lois! Oh, I’m glad you called. I was just thinking about you,” came Martha’s warm voice.

Lois exhaled. “Hey, Martha. Would it be okay if I came by tonight instead of waiting until the weekend?”

“Of course, honey. We’d love that. Drive safe, alright?”

Lois hung up the phone, a little steadier than she’d been minutes ago.

She didn’t have a story. But maybe, just maybe, she’d find something better.

She packed in under an hour. The hotel key clicked behind her like punctuation on a sentence she wasn’t sure she’d finished writing. The drive from Tulsa to Smallville was a straight shot through darkness and memory. She let the highway stretch out before her like a question she was finally ready to ask.

And maybe, for the first time in years, she wasn’t afraid of the answer.

Chapter 1

The farmhouse lights were still on when Lois Lane pulled into the gravel driveway just before ten. Her headlights washed across the familiar porch, casting long shadows behind the wooden posts. The Kent house hadn’t changed. Not really. Not in the ways that mattered. The porch swing still creaked in the breeze. The light above the door still flickered slightly, as if uncertain whether to fully commit to being helpful.

She sat behind the wheel for a moment after cutting the engine, her hands still on the steering wheel. The drive from Tulsa had been uneventful, but her mind had been anything but. It was one thing to leave Metropolis, to walk away from the city, the byline, the building that echoed with too many memories. But it was something else entirely to return here, where the silence felt heavier because of what it used to hold.

Lois had rehearsed this visit in her head for days. What she’d say. How she’d say it. The mask she’d wear. But none of it had survived the drive. Now that she was here, parked at the edge of her former life, all she could do was breathe.

The screen door creaked open. Martha Kent stepped out onto the porch with her arms folded against the early spring chill. Her smile was small but real.

“Hi, honey.”

Lois stepped out of the car and closed the door softly behind her. “Thanks for letting me come early. I was about to climb the walls in that hotel.”

“Anytime.” Martha walked down the steps and met her halfway, wrapping her in a hug that smelled of flour and something green and growing. “It’s good to see you.”

They walked together toward the house, Lois carrying her overnight bag. The air was thick with the scent of turned soil and wind-carried pollen. Somewhere in the fields beyond, a night bird called.

“How was the drive?” Martha asked.

“Uneventful.”

“And Tulsa?”

Lois hesitated. “Still Tulsa.”

Inside, the warmth of the kitchen hit her like a memory. The familiar smell of old wood and cinnamon. A teapot steamed on the stove. A half-done crossword sat beside a pencil. Nothing ever changed in this house—and that was the most comforting part.

Martha set two mugs of tea on the table and took a seat. “I’m guessing the story didn’t pan out?”

Lois shook her head. “Fourth one in a row. The Williams Company scandal turned out to be someone’s disgruntled ex-employee stirring up drama online. Not exactly front-page material.”

“You’ve hit slumps before.”

“Not like this. Perry keeps acting like everything’s fine, but I know he’s frustrated. I’m frustrated.”

Martha gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. That’s hard.”

Lois nodded, but didn’t answer. She stared into her tea for a moment before blurting, “I think I’m done.”

“With the story?”

“With the Planet.”

Martha blinked. “Oh.”

“I can’t breathe there anymore. Every hallway feels haunted. Every deadline feels heavier than the last. It’s like... part of me stayed behind. And I’m just going through the motions.”

Martha’s face softened. “You’re not alone in feeling that way. It was never just a job for you.”

“No. It was a life. Our life.”

They were quiet for a moment. Then Lois said it.

“I’m moving to Tulsa.”

Martha sat back slightly, absorbing the weight of that. “To work at the World?”

Lois nodded. “I’ve already interviewed under a new name. They offered me a junior staff position. I said yes.”

“You’re leaving Metropolis completely?”

“I have to. For Jerome. For me.”

Martha tilted her head. “What name did you use?”

Lois hesitated, then said quietly, “Elaine Kent.”

Martha’s lips parted slightly, but she said nothing at first. Then she nodded. “It suits you.”

“I didn’t want to be Lois Lane anymore,” she admitted. “Lois Lane was brave. Bold. Unbreakable. And I’m none of those things anymore.”

“Don’t say that,” Martha said gently. “You’re more than what you’ve lost.”

Lois hesitated before continuing, her voice quieter now. “Sometimes I wonder if I waited too long to move on. Like I missed whatever window there was for healing, and now I’m just learning how to live with the bruise.”

Martha’s eyes didn’t leave her. “You’re not late, Lois. You’re surviving. That’s not a failure—it’s strength.”

Lois gave a soft laugh. “It doesn’t feel like strength. It feels like dragging myself through molasses most days. Getting up, going to work, picking up Jerome from school, trying not to cry when he asks why his daddy can’t come to Grandparents’ Day.”

Martha reached across the table and placed her hand over Lois’s. “What do you tell him?”

“I tell him Clark is somewhere out there. That he loved him very much. That he was brave.” Her voice caught. “And then I go into the next room and fall apart.”

Martha’s thumb traced a gentle circle over the back of Lois’s hand. “He is somewhere out there. And you’ve kept that boy wrapped in love and wonder, even in your own grief. You didn’t fall apart—you just kept going.”

Lois pulled her hand back and stood, pacing to the window again. “He looks more like Clark every day. Same eyes. Same smile. Sometimes I think I hear Clark when Jerome laughs.” She swallowed. “And that’s beautiful. And it’s unbearable.”

Martha joined her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not supposed to do this alone. That’s not what Clark wanted for you.”

“I know,” Lois whispered. “But he’s not here. And I’m tired of pretending I’m waiting for a miracle.”

She turned, wiping at her eyes. “I’m not doing this to erase him. I’ll never erase him. I just… I need to breathe again. I want Jerome to grow up in a place where every building doesn’t whisper ‘you used to be more.’ I want to be his mother, not a monument to something that broke.”

Martha hugged her again, tighter this time. “You’re not a monument. You’re a mother. A writer. A survivor. And you’re allowed to choose peace.”

Lois closed her eyes against Martha’s shoulder and breathed deep. “Then I guess it’s time I start living like I believe that. Metropolis reminds me every day of who I used to be. Who I used to have. I want Jerome to grow up somewhere quieter. Somewhere that doesn’t make my chest ache every time I walk out the door.”

“And the name?”

“I wanted him to have something of Clark. And if I can’t give him his father, I can at least give him his name.”

Martha stood, walked over, and wrapped her in another hug.

“I think he’d be proud of you,” she whispered.

“I hope so.”

They stood there in the quiet for a while, looking out into the darkened fields.

Jonathan arrived home not long after, his boots scraping across the porch. He entered the kitchen with a warm smile and tired eyes. “Lois. I was hoping you’d make it tonight.”

“Hi, Jonathan.” She accepted a brief but firm hug.

He gave her a once-over. “You look... like you’ve had a long drive.”

“I’ve had a long four years,” she said quietly.

Jonathan nodded with understanding and didn’t press.

They spent the next hour catching up. Lois told them about Jerome’s first steps, his obsession with dinosaurs, the time he glued cereal to the dog. Martha laughed until she cried. Jonathan’s chest puffed with pride at every mention of their grandson.

Later, in Clark’s old bedroom—now Jerome’s favorite room when they visited—Lois unpacked slowly. Her movements were deliberate, like each fold of fabric into a drawer was a promise she hadn’t yet decided how to keep.

She opened the closet and saw Clark’s old flannel shirt still tucked away in the corner. The sight of it brought her to her knees.

She cried with her whole body.

Not the sharp, clean tears of the early days. These were quieter. Older. Worn soft by time but no less full of sorrow. They soaked into the fabric of that shirt as she clung to it, rocking gently on the floor.

Eventually, she crawled into bed, the shirt held against her chest. Her breathing slowed. Her muscles eased.

And when the morning came, she felt just a little less like she was drowning.

A little more like she was becoming someone new.


If you feel inclined, please review. Thanks!

Previously on Stuck in the Dark

Chapter 8

Kal didn't answer right away. Instead, he tightened his grip around his cane, the smooth metal grounding him while he considered his next words. It bought him a few seconds—just enough time to steer the truth in a direction that wouldn't unravel everything.

"Lois and I crossed paths a couple years ago," he said finally. "At a journalism conference. We kept in touch here and there." It wasn't a lie. Just the safest version of the truth.

"We bumped into each other again at the Kerths a few months back," he continued. "Didn't expect it, but…" He shrugged. "Lois makes an impression. Hard to ignore." A faint smile touched his lips, fleeting but real. "She's sharp. Fearless. Still has that edge that makes people underestimate her—right up until it's too late."

He let the words hang there, content to leave them unchallenged. He didn't need to say anything more. Perry would draw his own conclusions, and Kal was betting that the less he filled in, the less likely he was to give something away. But even as he played the part, a truth pressed in from the edges. He could deflect questions, offer just enough honesty to keep suspicion at bay—but the cracks were already there. Sooner or later, someone—maybe Perry—would see through them.

Perry gave a slow nod, his arms still crossed. "She doesn't let people in easy," he said, more to himself than to Kal. "Never has." There was a pause—thoughtful, weighty. "So when she does," Perry added, voice quieter now, "I pay attention."

He shifted in his seat, the chair giving a quiet creak beneath him. Without looking at Kal, he spoke again— keeping his eyes on the hallway ahead. "Lois ever tell you about the Winninger case?"

Kal's expression didn't change. He gave a small shake of his head. "Doesn't sound familiar."

"Didn't think she would." Perry's voice carried the weight of memory, a little rough around the edges. "Scientist working on something classified. Shot right in front of her. Cops wanted her under protection, but she wouldn't hear it. Said the story mattered more than her safety." He let out a dry breath. "Sound familiar?"

Kal didn't answer, other than a faint smirk.

"Thing is," Perry continued, "she was right. Story did matter. It exposed a mess that needed airing out. But it came with a cost. That case nearly broke her—and she never let on. She pushed through it like she always does." He paused, finally glancing over at Kal. "And here we are again. Another big story. Another warning she's already brushed off." Perry leaned back, arms crossed. "She acts like she's bulletproof, but she's not. I've seen her come out the other side, sure—but not without scars. Doesn't matter how strong she is. Eventually, something gives."

“Henderson’s heading this way.” Perry gave a grunt as he stood, his voice neutral. "Be right back."

Kal rose as well, his hand tightening around the grip of his cane. "I'll go check on Lois."

Henderson hesitated. "You sure you can get back there without help?"

Kal's jaw tightened slightly. "Found it once," he said evenly. "Room 428. Third door on the left past the nurses' station." He angled the cane forward with practiced ease. "I'll be fine."

Perry opened his mouth—maybe to offer something—but thought better of it.

Henderson gave a short nod. "Alright."

Kal could feel both men watching him as he moved down the hall toward Lois's room. He kept his stride relaxed, his posture casual, refusing to let the tension show. No matter how much time passed, he still bristled when people questioned his ability to be independent. He drew in a slow, steadying breath as he reached for the door, doing his best to keep his tone even—anything to keep her from sensing that something had gotten to him.

"Hey," he said quietly, crossing the room to the chair beside her bed.

Lois didn't hesitate. "Took you long enough." Her voice was steady—familiar—but there was an edge to it, one he couldn't quite place. Not irritation, exactly. More like… unease.

Kal offered a faint smile. "Got held up. Didn’t realize it had been that long."

"Perry and Henderson double-teaming you?" she asked, dry as ever.

"Something like that."

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, then added, "Do you want me to go? I can give you some time to rest."

Lois was quiet for a beat. "Like I got hit by a building," she said dryly. "Which, technically, I kind of did."

Kal let out a quiet breath—half laugh, half exhale. "That'll do it."

"But no," she added, softer now. "You don't have to go."

Her voice didn't quite carry a thank you, but it didn't need to. It was in the pause, the way she hadn't let the silence stretch too long. Kal settled into the chair, listening to the quiet rhythm of her breathing. "Okay," he said softly.

After a moment, Kal broke the silence again. "I, uh…" he started hesitantly, "I don't actually know what your injuries are. The report I heard didn't say anything specific."

Lois shifted against the pillows. "Concussion, two cracked ribs, lots of bruises."

Kal nodded slowly, processing the information. "You were lucky."

"I know."

"What's Henderson's take on it? Any news?"

He heard a soft rustle— probably Lois shaking her head. "Nothing yet. He's checking sources, but so far no sign that Intergang knew I was there. We're almost certain I'm in the clear."

Kal's fingers brushed the smooth notch worn into his cane. "It's the almost that worries me."

"I'm not helpless, Kal."

"I never said you were," he answered as he lifted his head toward her. "But this time… you didn't walk away, you were carried." He paused, turning the cane slowly in his hands before continuing. "And I can't protect you the way I used to."

It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't self-pity. Just a quiet truth he hadn't said out loud before. The silence told him his comment had landed.

"It's not your job to protect me."

"I know," he said, his voice low. "But that doesn't keep me from worrying about you. Going to the Southside alone, knowing there wouldn't be any super back-up…" He exhaled, steady but low, "that scares me." He took another breath, slower this time "It scares me more than I can say."

Lois hand curled around his. "I understand that, but you also know me well enough to know that I'm not going to back away from this." Her fingers tightened just slightly. "It's how I have gotten to where I am. Whatever Intergang is up to— it needs to be stopped. And if I can help make that happen… I will."

Kal felt Lois's hand fall away just as he heard footsteps enter the room. "Lois," Perry's voice cut in, brisk as ever. "I just talked to Henderson, and I need to get back to the newsroom before Jimmy does something crazy."

Without waiting for a response, he continued. "You are not to try sneaking out of here, you understand me? The doctor said you need to stay at least overnight for observation."

His tone left no room for argument. "There's nothing we can do about this right now anyway—at least not until we find out more about what else they are planning."

Perry turned to Kal. "You sticking around for a bit?"

Kal gave a short nod.

"Good, don't let her talk you into anything stupid." Without waiting for a reply, he left her room.

Kal felt his body relax as Perry made his exit. Perry figuring out his secret was one less thing to worry about, if only the situation with Lois would be as simple.

Lois adjusted the blanket over her legs, wincing slightly as she settled back into the hospital bed. “Are you heading out?”

“Eventually,” he said, glancing in her direction though his eyes didn’t quite meet hers. “I booked a room nearby when I left Oklahoma. Figured I should be close in case—well, in case things were worse.”

She studied him for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “You could stay with Perry. I bet he would be okay with it.”

Kal shook his head, a quiet exhale slipping through his nose. “I don’t know Perry that well. And hotel rooms… they have a more predictable layout. Easier to learn. I know where everything is, and if I bump into something, it’s because I put it there.”

“Oh.” The word came soft, a little startled—like it hadn’t occurred to her that predictability mattered that much now. That even small things—furniture, doorframes, nightstands—could become obstacles.

He didn’t press the point. Just gave a small shrug, the motion subtle. “It helps.”

A quiet beat passed between them. Lois shifted again, slower this time, and Kal could hear the faint creak of the bed frame beneath her. She wasn’t trying to fill the silence for once, and he didn’t rush to fill it either. It was the kind of stillness that had weight—not uncomfortable, just full of things unsaid.

“How far is the hotel?” she asked eventually.

“Four blocks,” Kal replied. “You should rest,” Kal added gently. “Perry’s probably already reading Jimmy the riot act, and knowing him, he’ll be back before you have time to pretend you were asleep.”

That got a faint smile out of her—just the edge of it, tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You know me too well.”

Kal returned the smile, faint but genuine. “That’s the problem.”

Lois’s expression softened, and she looked like she wanted to say something more—something that might undo the tension still resting just under the surface between them—but the words never came. She just pulled the blanket up a little higher, settling into the pillows.

Kal hesitated for a second longer, then stepped toward the door. As he passed the chair, his hand found the strap of the small backpack resting against its leg—the same one he’d carried off the plane. He slung it over his shoulder in a practiced motion, not bothering to adjust the weight.

“I’ll check in tomorrow,” he said as he straightened then slipped into the hallway, the soft tap of his cane and the gentle shift of his backpack the only sounds as he made his way down the corridor.

🏆 The Super-Ceremony is Set! 🏆

WHEN: Saturday, April 26th, 16:30 UTC - 20:00 UTC
You can check out our handy list of local times here:
Ceremony around the globe

We've learned from last year's hoopla and adjusted the duration based on average presentation and acceptance speech times. It's probably going to run a few minutes shorter than the full 3 1/2 hours, though.

WHERE: Discord!

This will be our second Kerth ceremony on Discord, and we’re looking forward to celebrating 2024’s authors and creators with you there! 🥳

We recommend getting onto the Discord server and taking a look around before the ceremony if you’ve never been before. Give yourself a bit of time to get oriented — everyone in there is super friendly, and they’ll be happy to help out! If time allows this week, we may have a test channel where you can view the way the thread/stage works!

• If you haven’t signed up, it’s very easy - just click here!.
• The #kerth-ceremony channel itself (the main area where you chat) will be our “AUDIENCE” section, where EVERYONE can chat! There aren’t really any rules for this chat other than what exists here on the MBs (no politics, no gossip, be kind, keep things PG-13ish).
• Inside the #kerth-ceremonychannel will be a threaded conversation called “THE STAGE.” On a browser, as well as the Discord desktop app, you can open this up to a split-view window so that you can see both the main channel and the thread. (It’s possible to do this on mobile via a browser window in landscape view, but it’s very tiny for obvious reasons!) The thread will be our STAGE, where we’ll have presenters present the awards! Nominees, have your speeches prepped to “come up to the stage/podium” and give an acceptance speech!
• Keep in mind that the Kerth Awards Ceremony is a LIVE show! Just like any live awards ceremony—and especially since this is our first year using Discord—please keep in mind that anything can and will happen with tech! We’ve tested things, but give us a little grace when we inevitably iron out some kinks!

If there’s anything else you have questions or concerns about, please don’t hesitate to let us know on this post, in a MB message, by e-mail or in Discord!

And in the meantime, Kerth activities are still happening this week:

• We’re still looking for volunteers to help guide FoLCs to the official #kerth-ceremony channel, and to turn permissions on and off between the thread and the main channel, to keep the ‘stage’ clear. Just message anyone on the K-Com on the boards or Discord to join in the fun!
• And Kerth Challenges are still out there for your imagination to take them up, up, and away to next year's Kerths!

Less than one week until we celebrate all of this year’s artists during a night in with your FoLC pocket friends on Discord! 🥰

🏆 See you at the Kerths! 🏆
________________________________________________

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

In order to help you find all things Kerth for this year, we’ve created a TOC for all the 🏆TOC Kerth Award Posts🏆.

The Kerth Committee
(KSaraSara, Darth Michael, lovetvfan, and JadedEvie)