Disclaimer: Superman and all its subsidiary characters are the property of DC Comics, Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel. Superman Returns is by Mike Dougherty, Dan Harris and Bryan Singer. I claim no rights, only borrowing for the purpose of entertainment.

Author Note: This takes place after the Superman Returns movie. Like everybody else, I think there is more to be done, and they left the ending so deliciously open for further interpretation. To try to set this story apart a bit, I'm going to pick up with fact that Lois knows she and Superman obviously had a relationship – one she can't remember. And she's NOT a happy camper about it. She must decide what place Superman has in her life, (if any…beyond being 'hero'), where her heart lies, and how to get over betrayal. Superman must find a way to tell her what happened, WITHOUT revealing his secret identity to her. (I'll work on that bit about IDs later in the story). Added into the mix is a new baddie, one with bizarre goals in mind. (What villain for a superhero story wouldn't be bizarre?) Special thanks to Barbara (htbthomas) for reading over the chapter for me!

Please let me know how I'm doing, this is my first foray into writing for superheroes! Push that little review button and feed the need! Enjoy!

Veritas

Chapter 1: "Scratch"

Metropolis summers had never been exactly something wonderful to write home about. At least, no more than the ubiquitous weather reports about the temperature and humidity climbing to uncomfortable heights – and why there always seemed to be a timely shortage of window AC units in the city. Lois Lane had never given the Metropolis weather much thought, except to worry that her small son, Jason, might get overheated while playing in the yard of their riverfront house.

Living on the riverfront, away from the melee of traffic and city noise, did have its advantages. The sound of the water gently lapping against the boards of the deck, the slight chirping of the first birds of the morning – were all things Lois had become acutely aware of since she'd moved out here with Richard. Had she been in another frame of mind, Lois might have simply dismissed these sound experiences away as the result of being 'out in the sticks' – or the closest thing to it. But now, after spending the entire night standing out on the deck of her fiancé's house, having watched the form of a certain 'man in blue' fly out of sight – all the sounds of early morning nature strangely comforted the reporter.

A warm summer breezed wafted across the water. Lois stared down at her hands, turning the smooth form of the cigarette lighter over and over in them. When had her life - which at one time, had been successful and relatively ordered – been thrown into the blender with the purée button jammed?

"How did this happen?" Lois muttered under her breath, staring down at the water. A tiny niggling fear in her brain hoped the resident hero wasn't using his super-hearing at that moment.

But talking out some of the raging emotions cluttering and stalling her usually razor sharp brain, felt good. She'd spent the entire night thinking about everything, about all her choices and feelings – and frankly, it was getting too crowded inside her head. Which, ironically, was starting to throb with a vengeance.

Running a hand through her hair and massaging her temple for a moment, Lois noticed that the sky was lightening to an orange hue. It was beautiful, and though she knew, the despite the night's events, her workday was about to begin, Lois smiled faintly at the dawn. The tops of the clouds remained a brilliant blue, as the sun's rays had not yet dowsed them – and Lois' smile faded.

The same blue as in his eyes.

She crossed her arms over her chest, setting her jaw. Why can't I remember anything about us? Obviously, something happened…

She chewed her nail at the thought that she and Superman…had…well…been intimate. That was certainly something she would remember!

Wouldn't it?

Then why can't I? Why can't I remember one of the most important nights of my life… with a man I lo-… She cut her thought off there.

She'd denied to Richard that she had been in love with him five years ago. She'd denied it to herself even, as she received the Pulitzer Prize nomination for a story she'd written when loving Superman was the last thing on her mind. How could she love a man who'd abandoned her…and the world? Selfish though it may have been, it stung more to think that he'd abandoned her, more than the masses.

Richard's sea plane was tethered off the dock, the hull groaning slightly as the waves passed under it. Lois glanced over at it, the pontoons battered and marred from their adventure to the kryptonite continent to save Superman. He'd literally flown back into her life, and she silently damned herself for allowing all those emotions to wash over her so easily.

Like some stupid schoolgirl, you went goo-goo eyed for him after one flight, one time in those arms. After you told yourself he was out of the picture. After Richard came into your life…raised your son with you…

As if on cue, the kitchen lights flicked on. Richard was busying himself with coffee for him and Lois, and breakfast for the munchkin. It was such a normal, everyday routine. But Lois' hand flew over her mouth, as she fought back sudden tears. No one would think anything of such a normal family, doing normal things like fixing breakfast – only there was nothing normal about this family.

He's not Richard's. He loves that child as his own…always has, and now you find out that it's been a lie. How can you ever tell him? Do you tell him? How do you explain something when… Lois lowered her head, the palm of her hand pressed angrily against her forehead.

"How can I explain something when I don't even know how the hell it happened?" Her voice was a harsh whisper.

Inside, she heard Richard calling to Jason upstairs – his Wheaties were going to get mushy soon if he didn't hurry. Swallowing thickly, Lois forced her feet to start walking back to the house. She'd always prided herself on being on top of everything, having a dozen different ideas for every situation ready and waiting.

She'd never been so confused – or frustrated, in her life, as she was that moment heading back into her house.

Richard opened the back porch door, two cups of coffee in his hands. "Hey. I must have been sleeping the sleep of the dead for you to beat me up this early."

"We've all had a long couple of days," she replied tiredly, accepting one of the cups.

Richard gave her a half-smile, guiding her back into the house, "No kidding. Earthquakes, flying continents, superhero saving. Its no wonder I slept so hard." He looked down at Lois, watching her nurse the coffee in her pale hands. "You should call in, take the day off to rest, you know."

Lois gave him a look that said, oh yeah, right. Are pigs flying now too?

"Okay, okay. Stupid suggestion. You never take a day off. Especially with Superman's recovery and all," he chuckled.

Lois hid the unbidden bristle the mention of Superman's name wrought. An image of the Man of Steel, hovering over the water in front of her house a few hours before, came back to her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but he didn't seem all that surprised at finding out he'd fathered a son.

It sure shocked the hell out of me, she thought. Even though he'd obviously heard her bedside confession that she suspected Jason was his, she would have thought he'd have been a little more perplexed by the discovery.

If something happened to both of us, and neither one of us remembered the relationship…shouldn't he be as screwed up about this as I am? Superhero or not?

"Yo – Lois! Earth to Lois!" Richard sounded like he'd been talking to her for a few minutes, only getting a thousand-mile stare in response.

"Hm? Oh, geez…sorry, Richard. The caffeine hasn't kicked in I guess."

Richard smile gently back at her, as if he figured she was much more physically wasted than he'd thought. "I was saying that I'll take the munchkin in to school for you, if you want."

Lois looked over at her son, who was munching his cereal and doodling on a scrap of paper. He looked up at his mother and beamed a milk-mustache smile.

"That's fine. I have to get into the Planet early anyway," She said as she ruffled her son's hair and planted a kiss on the crown of his head. She glanced down at the drawing next to his bowl. It looked like their house, a bit lopsided, but the resemblance was there. It showed a tiny stick figure of a boy, leaning out his second floor window and waving at another figure floating in the air. A rather conspicuous figure, complete with cape, boots and 'S' emblazoned on his chest.

Jason grinned at his mother, as if he was sure she'd recognize the scene. What he didn't expect was the look of pain on his mother's face – as if the picture had reached up and scratched her across the face.

"Mommy?" Jason asked, confused.

Lois blinked. She was reliving the scene all over again, still trying to read the emotions in Superman's face. Her son was enamored of him, no doubt – and why shouldn't he be, being his blood…and all that! – but she couldn't deny the fact that the Man of Steel's face held nothing of the shock and confusion she felt sure he should be feeling with this discovery. So what was the deal? A small spark of indignation lit in the back of the astute reporter's mind.

He's hiding something.

At the feeling of a small hand tugging on her robe, Lois refocused on her son. His blue eyes were luminous, a little worried.

"That's a great picture sweetie. We'll put it up in your room later, but now you'd better scoot. Daddy's…" her mouth went cotton dry suddenly, referring to Richard as 'daddy'. She recovered lightning fast, "Daddy's bringing you to school."

She mentally kicked herself, as she began her monotonous morning routine of getting ready for work. Why should she suddenly feel odd using daddy to refer to Richard? For all intents and purposes, he is Jason's father. If not biologically…

The more she thought about Superman, the more frustrated Lois became. Driving to the Daily Planet, signs and billboards proclaiming the hero's miraculous recovery were splashed on every bus and walkway. Every picture fed Lois' vexation.

If he wasn't surprised that they had conceived a child, then that must mean he had known about it from the beginning. Lois whipped her sleeve back, a little harder than needed – checking the time, as the cab she was in was stalled in morning commuter traffic.

He knew! Whatever it was keeping her from remembering didn't seem to affect him! She reminded herself not to grind her teeth, as she considered bailing out of the cab and walking the rest of the way. Finally she gave in, threw some money at the cabbie and hauled her briefcase and herself out of the cab. It was still a good six blocks to the Planet, but maybe the walk would do her good.

The confusion that had been milling in the pit of her stomach was blooming into anger, stinging and burning like a fresh cut. She was an 'Ace' reporter after all…and this was one conundrum she intended to attack with force.

Face to face.

-------------------------

Across town, the morning rays of sunlight filled the ornate office in amber-gold hues. It was a spacious room, most would be happy if their entire apartment held the square footage of the twenty-fifth floor office. The floor was rich red maple, lacquered to a gleaming finish – on the jade-green walls hung paintings that the Metropolis Museum of Art would envy. One wall was nothing but book cases, filled with manuscripts, ancient and new. A desk roughly the size of a small boat filled one side of the room, backlit by floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything screamed wealth and sophistication – the air was only heightened by the young man standing at the window, in a three-thousand dollar suit, coffee in hand.

"I have those quarterly figures, Mr. Darius." A middle-aged man, with a high forehead, light brown, wispy hair and thin wire glasses entered the office. He too, was dressed in Wall Street's finest attire, though he didn't carry it with the easeof the younger man. He glanced at the portfolio before he placed it on the behemoth desk. "Looks like the Sheik of al Qasim has granted the drilling rights to us for the land near his little village none too soon. It could become a 500,000 barrel a day operation. If the political stability holds out."

The younger man turned, the sun lighting his blond hair like a halo. His eyes, the color of faded dollar bills, flickered genially, as he smiled at his assistant. "C'mon now, Marcus. Since when are you the pessimist?" Darius strode over to his desk, placing his cup down to continue perusing the front page of the Daily Planet, in his other hand. "I think it's a minor miracle, what with all the upheaval in the Middle East right now, that we were even able to get this contract signed. With our unending need for oil over here, even the smaller operations in the less important towns and villages have to be tapped."

Hamill shrugged, "You contracting to build a new regional hospital there, to serve the surrounding communities didn't hurt matters much."

His boss, Lucius Darius, bestowed a blindingly white smile upon his assistant. He'd always thought of his personal assistant, Marcus Hamill, as a rather undemonstrative older brother – always reminding him of the 'what-ifs' and consequences of actions. Darius had climbed the cooperate ladder, both with the help of family – and his own charm and brilliance (something not seen much in these days of cooperate sharks). At twenty nine, Darius was the youngest CEO of a Fortune 500 company in the U.S. The Daedalus Corp. was the leader in import/export of natural resources on the East coast, and worked with hundreds of government, military and private organizations. He was also very active in numerous charities, as Darius always believed that you had to give a little to get a little.

His extravagant ways, success and good looks often earned him the nickname "Playboy CEO" – his golden locks, green eyes, strong square chin and model-build body…didn't hurt this image either. He used their assumption that all he was looks, to his advantage – especially in the board room. Darius had been somewhat of a prodigy in finance and business, as well as history and science.

"Those people needed a hospital, and we needed their oil. I see it as a win-win situation, Marcus," Darius said.

"Well I can't disagree with that," Hamill admitted, "I still think you could have contracted for lower export duties without the cost of the hospital."

Darius' smile faded. "You sound like Aunt Margaret. She's always harping on me to focus on more profit, and screw the underdog." He looked back down at his paper. Darius had been raised by his Aunt Margaret DeGalle, after his parents, the wealthy Darius Senior and his wife, were killed in an auto accident when he was seven. Most of his inheritance came from them, as well as the combined finances of the DeGalle fortunes. Margaret DeGalle was a force to be reckoned with, Lucius had learned early on.

He'd learned to work with her, or around her, but not to go against her. Margaret might have been older, but the woman's claws were in her influence and power in the community. Many had been scratched getting on her bad side. She was the only parent figure in his life, however, and that was a fact he held onto like a vice.

Hamill decided discretion was the better part of valor, and left the subject of the Grand Dame herself alone. "Have you checked the stock reports yet? LexCorp was down 5 points yesterday, I was wondering what the cause was."

Darius' gaze was fixed on the continued story from the front page, and answered absently, "If I had to guess, I'd say Lex Luthor simply doesn't have the power he used to. Prison time tends to effect stock prices. Even if he did manage to beat the indictment."

"Wheedling rich old heiresses out of their money can buy just about anything…even judges," Hamill said, arranging some files on Darius' desk.

Darius cut his eyes up toward his assistant reprovingly.

"I didn't say I admired him for it, Lucius." Hamill demurred.

"Good," Darius said, looking back down at the paper, "Luthor had some pretty twisted ideas of power structures and legalities within business deals. Unless he was sovereign lord. I'm glad our contact with LexCorp is as distant as possible."

"Much to your aunt's dismay," Hamill smiled ironically. Darius frowned back at him again, and Hamill held a hand up in defeat. "You're right, Lucius. Lex Luthor is no one to get into bed with." He sidled up to his boss, looking over the younger man's shoulder. "What's the Daily Planet got in it that has you so captivated?"

Darius turned to his assistant, and showed him the section he was reading eagerly. Marcus was astonished how Darius had the ability to be all business and formality one moment, and look as if the years had been "washed way" by youthful exuberance the next.

"Superman recovered!" The excitement in the young CEO's face almost made him look like a teenager, still wondrous about the unknown. And Superman was still, in essence, an unknown. "It has pictures of him lifting a continent-size land mass out of the ocean, saying he hurtled it out into space." Darius jabbed a finger at the pictures for emphasis, as Hamill smiled at him. "A freaking continent, Marcus! Then he fell from the mesosphere, hit the ground, and is right back out there, saving the world! Seriously, what can't he do?"

"I see the Man of Steel has captivated the scientist in you," Hamill said.

Darius smirked, "More like the comic book superhero-lover in me. He's the stuff the Saturday morning cartoon heroes I used to watch as a kid are made of." His smile took on a wistful air. "My mom and I would watch cartoons together, and she'd always say, 'There should be more superheroes in the world, to save the day'. Maybe then, people wouldn't have to learn the hard way that life turns around and kicks you in the teeth, when you least expect it."

Darius tried not to think back to his Aunt Margaret coming to tell him that his parents were dead. He'd vowed to become successful in everything he did, so that he could put some kind of buffer between himself and the tribulations of real life. It made him a bit idealistic, maybe a trifle arrogant – but whatever kept him at the top of his game, the better.

Hamill turned on the huge, LCD flatscreen TV adjacent to Darius' desk – the world news blazed across the screen.

"A militant group of Muslim jihadists have taken a Jewish temple hostage. Bombs were heard going off inside, and it is estimated that over two hundred are hurt or dead…" the reporter droned on and on about more bombings in Palestine.

"Well," Hamill said dourly, watching the footage of blood-soaked streets, men and women wailing in terror, and utter destruction, "Apparently, there are some things even Superman can't prevent."

TBC…

A/N: So, what do you think? Good? Bad? Ugly? Please let me know! Clark/Superman to enter in Chap 2, more angst, loads of confusion and... more angst. I like angst. Can ya tell? C'mon now, it's your turn to let the author know how she did! Feed the need!