This is an Elseworlds. The initial A-plot is from the L&C episode "I've Got a Crush On You" which I do not own. The familiar characters are a little different, though, so I'll take credit for the alterations. I'm also adding a few new faces to the mix, and the main plot is mine. The story itself is complete, but won't all be posted unless there's interest.

Hearts Divided

Lois Lane marched into the small family-style restaurant and surveyed the room. The lunch hour had not yet arrived, and the place was nearly deserted. Which made it easier for her to spot her target. The manager took one look at her crisp uniform and faded into the kitchen. She strode across the room to confront the rail-thin man eagerly devouring a plate-full of food. "Bobby Bigmouth?"

He glanced up, his fork suspended in midair. "Who wants to know?"

"I am Lieutenant L.J. Lane, US Army Intelligence," she announced, wondering which of two predictable come-backs this would elicit. Usually they either snorted at the perceived oxymoron, or-

"Lane, huh?" he replied, arching a speculative eyebrow. "First initial L? It's not Lois is it, like in the Superman comics?"

He had been quick to pick up on that; good, that meant he was somewhat intelligent. "I'm afraid I don't read comics," she replied dampeningly. "I'm here today to ask you what you know about a local fire hazard called the Toasters."

West River had erupted into flames in the past few days; several properties had burned down, injuring several people, including one off-duty corporal. The fire chief wasn't commenting, but rumor had it that the arson was gang-related. The brass at Fort Truman had no desire for the fires to spread to nearby army property, or to affect any more personnel. Or at least, that was the official story. Unofficially, her colonel had hinted to her that the origin of the Toaster's technology was troubling; it bore some resemblance to military designs currently in production at LexCorp. If this technology had been leaked, they wanted to know how and by whom. Hence, a military investigation, but very low-key. Lois had no real jurisdiction, but she had no intention of letting the informant know that.

Bobby's face took on a cunning expression as he dipped his fork again for another bite and proceeded to talk around it. "I see my reputation precedes me - so you gotta know, I don't give this stuff away for free." He looked around, rapid calculation in his eyes. "I mean, this place is okay, but what I could really go for is-"

Lois was in no mood to make concessions. Leaning forward, she grabbed his plate and spun it towards the other end of the table. Grabbing his lapels next, she pulled him forward. "I want to know what you know. And if you don't tell me, let's just say you'll spend the next month eating through a straw." She projected as much menace as she could muster, feigning an anger she didn't feel. She needed this information, and all indications were that this lowlife had the answers; threats seemed the most direct method of obtaining them.

His eyes widened as he stared at her. For a long moment he hesitated, and she wondered if he was thinking of calling her bluff. Then he sagged, and raised his hands in a universal gesture of surrender. "Okay, already, I give." Abruptly, she released him, letting him fall back into his seat.

He fussed with his clothing, trying to regain whatever dignity he could muster, and she waited patiently. He glanced up, a spark of resentment in his eyes, and commented, "You know, I love my country, but that was a bit much."

"Yeah, well, I'd feel guilty about it if I thought you ever paid your taxes."

Bobby put on a deeply wounded look and opened his mouth, but Lois spoke first. "Never mind, never mind. That was insensitive of me." She smiled briefly and insincerely. "Now, what do you know about the fires?"

"We're entering the target solar system, m'Lord Ching," Sev reported. "We should make planet-fall in approximately twelve more hours."

"Very good," Lieutenant Ching replied, tired of correcting Sev's inaccurate use of the honorific. New Krypton was such a class-conscious society, especially in the lower orders, that some of the enlisted men tended to call all of their commanding officers Lords. As soon as a real Lord took command of the ship, they could transfer their blind worship to him. Ching would not miss it; being mistaken for higher rank only served to remind him of what he could not have.

Zak, the young tactical officer, looked up from his console. "What's Earth like, sir?"

"I've only been there once, Zak," Ching replied, not unkindly. "Haven't you read the reports?"

Zak blushed. "Um, I've been - well, no, sir, I haven't."

"Well, there's a little time left," Ching allowed. "Look, this is a peaceful system - you're relieved of bridge duty; go back to your quarters and study up before we get there." He supposed the boy had been busy with the universal pastime of young men everywhere ... day dreaming about women. Ching could hardly blame him; it had been a long time since they'd left home, and although their previous mission was nearly over, new orders had just arrived, to make this pick-up and deliver a sealed message. There was no telling when they would return to New Krypton.

"I've read the reports," Sev mentioned, glancing slyly at his crewmate. "It's a nice, ripe little world, Earth is. All sorts of amenities. They're kryptonoid there, so we'll blend right in with the natives."

"Sev!" Ching spoke sharply, wanting to nip this thought pattern in the bud. "This will not be shore leave. We are going to make one short stop, to retrieve our local agent. At that point, he will be in command, and since he's been marooned there for three years, I expect he'll be in a hurry to leave." Depending on the contents of the message, of course, but the packet had been marked urgent, so haste was likely whether their destination turned out to be New Krypton or elsewhere. "Besides, the people of this planet have no idea there are other occupied worlds in the universe; until the Lords of New Krypton decide to reveal themselves, we *will* keep our existence a secret. Is that understood?" Ching fixed Sev with a severe glare until the helmsman's smile wilted.

"Yes, sir," he mumbled, then reluctantly added, "M'Lord."

"Good. I will take the helm for the next duty cycle. You are both relieved until the next cycle." The two younger Kryptonians saluted smartly and filed off the bridge, leaving Ching to the solitude of the stars. He leaned back in the captain's chair, taking a deep breath. He had known this part of the mission would be unpleasant, but duty was duty. He would need the next few hours to gather his composure; he would need all his control to once again face the man who would one day marry the woman Ching loved.

First Lieutenant L.J. Lane entered the bar with an appearance of bravado she did not entirely feel. She touched the neckline of her skimpy dress, feeling naked not only at the change from her usual uniform, but also because she had left her pistol behind. She hated feeling vulnerable, but she would be outnumbered and outgunned regardless, so subterfuge was her best chance. She forced herself to relax. Bobby's information had pointed her to the Metro Club, but a change of tactics had seemed appropriate. She knew she looked good in the outfit; if she could sing and dance to the manager's satisfaction as well, she would be in.

She looked around the dimly lit bar and spotted a lone bartender polishing glasses. Attempting a sultry walk, she approached him. "Hey, there."

He looked up, briefly glancing at her face before his gaze drifted lower. "What can I help you with?"

She took a deep breath to calm herself, then immediately regretted it as the movement only called attention to her cleavage. 'Work with it, Lane,' she ordered herself. She smiled. "I was wondering if the club had any openings for a singer?"

The bartender looked up again. "Maybe. Talk to Johnny over there."

"Thanks. See you around."

Slowly, deliberately, she swung around on one heel and walked towards the man the bartender had indicated, who was sitting near the side of the stage. "Hello," she called out as she spotted the manager. "My name is Lola, Lola Dane, and I'm here to be your new singer."

He lifted his head to meet her gaze, then let his eyes wander freely. Lois waited, feigning boredom. Johnny Taylor - owner of the Metro Club, and quite likely, the head of the Metro Gang - smiled. "We've already got a singer, hot cakes, but we could use legs like yours in the chorus."

Lois shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. She was in.

Kal Lewis slouched back in his chair, contemplating his sterile apartment. It was small, and its West River location couldn't be called good, but it had served his purposes for the past three years. He vaguely regretted, now, that he'd never fixed it up - with the powers this world's yellow sun had bestowed upon him, it would not have been difficult - but in the end it made no difference.

He had thought he would want to spend tonight at a party, making the most of his last night on Earth. Now that the moment was upon him, he was suffused with melancholy instead. Only a football game on television kept him company. It wasn't as if he had any true friends, he admitted, not here. There were various friendly acquaintances, of both genders, but he'd never allowed himself to be close to any of them. None of them knew of his alien origin. So none of them would understand that he was going back home.

He had no strong desire to return to New Krypton, but there was no reason to stay. He'd served his three-year tour, living unobtrusively among the humans, learning their cultures, and now it was time to report back. After the isolation of old Krypton, the new colony had a much more proactive approach to interstellar relations - they wanted to know their neighbors, whether openly or through stealthy observation. The physical similarities between Kryptonians and humans had made this one of the easier posts available - some observers were stuck on a small satellite for years at a time, watching a pre-spaceflight world. Kal had been able to blend in. That similarity was the reason he'd given in requesting this assignment. He didn't think the Council would understand the way he'd felt drawn to it from his first glimpse.

Adjusting to Earth's culture had been a shock at first, but once he'd gotten used to it, he'd decided that he liked this world. It was chaotic and over-emotional, true, but the abundant natural resources had granted humans luxuries that New Kryptonians professed not to want. And in the constant din and clatter of Metropolis, the restlessness that had gnawed at Kal ever since he could remember had been easier to bear ... though it had not vanished. Perhaps it was just as well that he would be going home. It was time to grow up and stop longing for something he didn't have, and couldn't even name. He had responsibilities to his world, and it was time to stop running away from them.

The transport ship would arrive tonight or tomorrow morning, and his officers would contact him telepathically. He'd already made all the preparations necessary for their landing. The journey home would be short and uneventful, and Zara would be waiting for him. Their wedding would probably follow in short order, assuming she hadn't found a better candidate in his absence. He held out little hope of that; the selection of eligible nobles was, like everything else on New Krypton, limited.

His musings were interrupted by a special bulletin interrupting the game. He frowned as the reporter told of yet another fire, this time only a block away, at the West River Garment Company. A worker was trapped in the burning building, and the local fire fighters lacked the equipment to safely retrieve him.

Kal usually let humans deal with their own problems - the Council had been very strict about him not revealing his presence in any way - but this was happening right in his own neighborhood. He couldn't ignore this. There had to be something he could do.

Moving quickly through back streets, he arrived at the scene of the fire in less than a minute. Using his enhanced vision, he scanned the area. It had been quite startling to him when these abilities had begun manifesting themselves shortly after his arrival on Earth. Nothing in his mission briefing had prepared him for this, but his military training had given him the tools necessary to painstakingly discover the various fantastic things he could now do. Many hours of surreptitious practice had let him master his new skills. And he might need a few of them today, he realized. The trapped man was on the uppermost floor, and the nearest stairwell was blocked by both flames and debris. Kal could probably lead him safely to the roof, but he wasn't sure that would help anything - the fire department still didn't have long enough ladders, and the building was beginning to collapse internally as walls and floors burned. The worker was going to have to jump - with a little invisible help.

Kal slipped around the corner, past an unmanned barricade, searching for an unobserved entrance. He found an emergency exit door propped open, and with a last cautious glance around he slipped into the building.

The air was thick with smoke, and Kal could feel the heat. He worried, for a moment, that his clothing would catch fire, but his T-shirt and jeans both fit rather snugly, so they might be protected. Using all his senses to navigate, he plunged into the gloom, locating a back stairwell that seemed clear, apart from smoke - too bad he wouldn't be able to bring the worker back this way, but the fumes would probably kill him. As he reached the top floor, he wondered why the local firemen hadn't tried this route - until he opened the stairwell door.

A wall of flames roared towards him, bringing heat, light, and crashing noise. He ducked, for a moment overcome by the memory of a childhood accident, feeling once more the sting and the throb of that long-ago burn. He shook himself out of it. In this time and place, he was invulnerable, and someone needed him. Determined, he moved forward again, unharmed. This level was burning merrily, producing a deafening cacophony of roars and hisses. As he crossed the first room, a half-heard groaning sounded, and before he could pinpoint the source, the floor beneath him collapsed. He fell halfway to the next level before his addled brain remembered that he could fly. Careful to avoid dislodging any more of the structure, he floated up again on his own power.

Half walking, half flying, he passed through the worst of the blaze to reach the relatively cool front of the building. The worker was sitting slumped by an open window, his breathing noisy - he had passed out from smoke inhalation, most likely. Kal felt almost guilty with relief; this rescue would be easier if he didn't need worry about being seen or recognized. There was no time to waste.

After a quick scan to verify that there were no broken bones, Kal scooped the man up and headed for the nearby stairs - the stairwell was acting as a chimney to draw smoke upwards, but Kal moved so quickly his passenger had no time for more than a breath or two before they emerged onto the roof with its relatively clear air. A quick glance verified his bearings, and Kal carried his burden to the edge of the roof and walked along it until he was above the deserted alley he'd found earlier. Gripping his passenger securely, Kal stepped off the building. They descended as rapidly as he dared, slowing only at the last moment. The worker began to cough as Kal laid him down across from the partly-open door. Then he walked, at fast but human speed, around to the front of the building. "Help! Some guy just staggered out of the building and collapsed!"

Several firefighters followed him and began attending to the worker, who was coughing more by now. Kal faded into the crowd, hiding a satisfied smirk. It had felt surprisingly good to be able to help - he ought to do it more often.

His elation faded as he remembered that he wouldn't have the chance.

"When you're not on stage, you'll be serving drinks," Tanya informed Lois. "If you hold your tray like this," she demonstrated, bracing one edge against her black-clad hip, "you'll always have a free hand for defense." At Lois's inquiring look, she grimaced. "Eyes aren't the only thing that wander around here." Tanya illustrated her 'defense' move with an alarming amount of enthusiasm.

Lois faked a smile. Lovely. Not only was she wearing a skimpy black body-suit, accessorized with a choker-like bow-tie, but she would be fending off groping hands all night. Well, at least she would blend in. Across the room, she noticed several men heading through an interior door.

Tanya followed her gaze and exclaimed, "Oh, my - I'd better get in there with something to wet their whistles, or I'll be back at the truck stop, slinging hash!"

Lois made a grab for the tray. "Oh, let me. I could use the practice."

Tanya smiled tightly, refusing to let go. "They tip big."

It was on the tip of Lois's tongue to offer a twenty for the opportunity, but reluctantly, she released the tray instead, letting Tanya go about her business. Lois wanted in on that meeting, but not badly enough to risk raising suspicions. Still, there was more than one way to skin a cat.

A little skulking around in the back-stage warrens led her to a storage closet. Shelves full of spare dishes lined the wall that she hoped backed onto the meeting room. Lois got her ear as close to the wall as she could, and concentrated on listening.

The voices were indistinct at first, but then became louder as they were raised in anger. Johnny Taylor claimed that he would take care of the fires. Lois's eyebrows shot up at this - maybe the Metro Gang wasn't behind this wave of arson, after all. A woman's voice cut in at that point, demanding to know *how* Johnny planned to take care of the fires. He angrily told her not to talk in meetings, and Lois wondered who this woman was, and why she was there in the first place. "Pop would be the first one to tell you to get married and have babies," Johnny sneered, answering that question - this must be his sister Toni. Lois felt a moment of sisterly solidarity with her. It wasn't easy for a woman to make a mark on a man's world; and she supposed that organized crime was about as male a world as any, even more so than the military.

A sudden commotion in the next room caught her attention, and then a bullet whizzed over her head. Startled, she dropped flat on the floor as two more shots exploded. Through faintly ringing ears, she heard Toni sneer, "Just what we need. A cool head in charge."

That seemed to bring the meeting to an abrupt end. After a few moments, Lois cautiously picked herself up and inspected the wall. The bullet holes were perfectly placed for a view into the adjoining room. Looking around the room, she found some large metal bowls, which she stacked neatly in front of the newly created peepholes. No sense advertising their presence.

She wasn't entirely happy with her progress - so far, all she'd gathered was negative data: The Metros were *not* coordinating the fires. But considering their status in West River, and the protection racket they ran, they would undoubtedly be putting a lot of effort into discovering the arsonist. And there was also the possibility that someone was using these fires as a form of pressure against Johnny, for whatever reason - the culprit could even be one of Johnny's staff, anxious for a promotion. So this was still a good place to be.

Well, if she wanted to remain here, she'd better get back to work. She checked for dirt smears from her dive to the floor and wiped off a few patches of dust. Satisfied that she was presentable, she quietly slipped out of the storage room.

Kal let himself back into his apartment and realized that he reeked of smoke. He stripped on his way to the bathroom and took a long hot shower, pondering his options for the evening. The football game was nearly over, and while he might be able to find another one, he was too restless to stay in tonight. He'd already packed the few things that he would be taking with him; all that was left was the waiting. He supposed he'd better get himself a good dinner somewhere, and then find some entertainment. He felt more at loose ends than usual, and it reminded him of how lost he'd felt when he'd first arrived.

He had chosen this apartment more or less at random, taking advantage of the area's lower rents. The Council had supplied him with a handful of Kryptonian crystals which closely resembled Earth gems; once he had figured out how best to exchange them for cash he'd not needed to save money on rent anymore. By then, however, he had discovered that the neighborhood suited him. People had learned not to ask too many questions here - they minded their own business and expected him to mind his. He'd kept his head down, made some useful acquaintances and settled down to the serious business of attempting to understand an entire culture in three short years. Kal smiled, thinking of some of the more pleasant lessons he'd learned. Very well then, he could end his tenure where he'd begun it - at the Metro Club.

"A chicken outfit. I can't believe it." Lois stared at the getup in dismay, but business was business and orders were orders, so, grumbling, she began changing. The evening had finally arrived, and at least the bright yellow body suit, amply supplied with feathers, was a change from the waitress get-up.

"Honey, it could be worse," one of the other chorus girls replied in good humor. "At least it's a job in show business. Hi, I'm Brenda."

Lois smiled, offering the black woman a handshake. "Hi Brenda, I'm Lola. And don't get me wrong, I'm happy to have the job ... but it's a pretty far cry from a hit musical."

Brenda snorted. "You ain't kidding. But it's a step, see. You get experience here, it can lead you to other things-"

"Don't believe it," an older, blonde woman interrupted while skillfully applying make-up to conceal the lines of age and disappointment on her face. "Brenda's been saying that for months, but she's still here."

The younger woman frowned. "Hey, Francine, at least I have a plan. And it doesn't involve sleeping my way to the top."

Francine snorted. "That must be why you're still on the bottom."

Brenda rolled her eyes and turned back towards Lois. "Like she's got a career we should envy. Never mind. My main point is, it's not so bad working here. And it could lead to better things - you never know." On that incontrovertible point, she cast a smug look at Francine and walked out of the shared dressing room, her head held high.

Lois watched her go, then turned her attention to the other dancer. "So, um ... hello, Francine."

"Hello, Lola," Francine replied, still concentrating on her make-up. "Welcome to show business. Did you audition?"

"Actually, Johnny just said he liked my legs," Lois admitted, somewhat uncomfortably. "Does he always do that?"

"You mean hire dancers without knowing whether they can dance?" Francine sighed. "Yeah, that's Johnny all over. It'd ruin him, but he does have a good eye. So, do you dance?"

"I've done some dancing, yeah." Okay, so it was mainly in her high school musical and in base skits, but she knew she was in good shape; she was dedicated to keeping up her martial arts training. "I was kind of hoping to get a gig singing, though," she admitted. "I'm better at that."

"Well, we'll whip you into shape this afternoon - in between making us wait tables they do give us a little time to rehearse. Assuming Melanie ever gets here, that is."

"Melanie?"

"Our fourth dancer," Francine explained, putting the finishing touches on her costume. "She just started two weeks ago, and she's always late. If Johnny weren't trying to get in her pants, she'd have been fired a week ago. He'll fire her pretty soon anyway, whether he sleeps with her or not."

"But that's sexual harassment," Lois protested.

Francine snorted. "Nope, that's life. At least in this part of town." She stood and moved towards the door. "If you'll excuse me, I've got to check something." Without waiting for a reply, she left.

Alone, Lois blinked at the unexpected undercurrents. Not that any of this back-stage wrangling was likely to be connected to the fires. Making her way in the Army had been difficult, but nothing like this. Never mind, she told herself. This wasn't getting her anywhere. She firmly directed her attention back to figuring out the chicken costume. This case was important to the base commander, and if she was able to crack the case for the local police, it would certainly help her career. There were a number of things she would refuse to do for her job, but singing and dancing in a chicken costume, while undignified, was not one of them.

Kal entered the Metro Club with a faint smile. He'd spent quite a few evenings in this plushly-decorated club, and realized that he would miss the company here. He spotted Toni Taylor across the room, and saw her notice him. With a wide smile, she crossed the room to greet him.

"Toni, how are you?" They exchanged cheek kisses.

"I've had better days, Kal," she admitted with a wry smile. "Do you want your usual table?"

"If it's available, thanks."

Smiling, she led him across the lightly crowded room. Their relationship had briefly been intimate three years ago, but the illusion of closeness had only served to emphasize Kal's loneliness. He'd admired Toni for her drive and directness, and it had been a novelty to begin a relationship with a social equal, but she hadn't touched his soul. With considerable trepidation, then, he'd broken things off. On New Krypton, rejection often had a devastating effect on a concubine. Earth women, though, seemed made of stronger stuff. After some awkwardness, his relationship with Toni had settled into a warm, if superficial, friendship.

He seated himself and gestured for Toni to join him, which she did with a smile. "Bad day, you said? Let me guess, you argued with Johnny again," Kal commented casually. He was fairly certain that Johnny Taylor was the head of the Metros, and that Toni was also connected with the gang, but he had never brought it up; he didn't think it was any of his business. As gangs went, the Metros were fairly tame, running numbers and a protection racket, so it wasn't difficult to obey the Council's prohibition on interference.

Toni's smile tightened. "He's just so stuck in his ways. But I'll get what I want in the end." The determined glint in her eyes left him in no doubt of that.

"I'm sure you will," he replied, tempted to confide in her, at least partly. "Um, Toni ... don't spread it around, but this is my last night here - I'm going home."

She just looked at him for a long moment, and Kal thought he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. Then she forced a smile and reached out to touch his hand. "I'll miss you, Kal. I won't ask where home is, either - you haven't told me in three years, so why should you tell me now. You, ah, need a lift to the airport?"

Kal smiled at her, remembering how helpful she'd been to him back when he'd been so confused about local transportation. "No, thanks. I've got some friends giving me a ride. They'll be here later tonight."

"Well, bring them in when they get here, Kal - any friends of yours are welcome here," Toni assured him.

"Ah, thank you, Toni," he replied, mentally discounting the idea. The ship would put down in the early morning dimness, he would board, and they would leave; there would be no time for such frivolities. Besides, if his fellow Kryptonians spent any amount of time on Earth, they would also develop powers; Kal would have to reveal something of that sort to the Council, but he did not want it to become common knowledge, for Earth's protection.

Toni eyed him shrewdly. "I'll leave it up to you, Kal, but they're welcome if you want to bring them. I'll even let them slide on the dress code," she teased, "if they behave themselves."

"No need to worry," he promised ambiguously. "Thanks, Toni."

"Not a problem." With visible reluctance, she stood. "Sorry, Kal, but I'm working; I've got to keep moving."

He nodded, well used to her dedication. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Sure - and you'd better see me again before you leave - no sneaking out on me, you hear?" She caressed his arm lightly as she left.

"Yes, ma'am." Kal smiled as she left, then let his gaze drift to the rest of the club. It was still early, and the room was only half full. Other acquaintances would probably come in a bit later, but he wouldn't miss them if they didn't. He had no unfinished business, and no future here. He'd end his term as he began, an outsider and observer.

The stage lights dimmed, signaling an imminent live performance, tempting Kal out of his melancholy. Perhaps he should try to appreciate the show - it was valuable if only because of its rarity; there was nothing like *this* on New Krypton. Women there were either cherished daughters, dignified wives, or private concubines ... they certainly didn't dance around publicly in skimpy costumes.

That was one of the things that Kal intended to try to change when he returned home. New Krypton couldn't afford to throw resources away on entertainment, of course, but it had occurred to him that they were probably squandering one of the resources they *did* have. Zara, for instance, possessed great managerial talents, which were mostly wasted. There had to be a way to remedy that situation.

The band's flourish announced the new performance, and Kal looked up, determined to enjoy himself. He usually enjoyed Tanya's singing, and although the dance lineup changed frequently, Johnny did have a good eye for talent.

Tanya pranced out on stage first, dressed in a red-and-white checked low-cut blouse, with short blue shorts; from his reading, Kal recognized it as a parody of a farmer's wardrobe. The song was new to him, something about the tension between economic/agricultural necessity and self-indulgent pleasure seeking. It hardly seemed like a dilemma to him; nobles did their duty and commoners followed orders. But Tanya shimmied appealingly, so he set aside his internal critique and resolved to be more shallow.

As if to reward him, the dancers came out to join Tanya on stage. The costumes were new, he noted, and so was one of the dancers.

She was slim and dark, with legs that went from here to there. Her dance moves were somewhat awkward, and out of step with the others, but she was obviously putting all her concentration into the effort, and the end result was strangely charming. She had an appealing face, as well ... he couldn't quite pinpoint the attraction, but there was something...

A commotion in the back of the room startled him, and he, along with most of the patrons, turned to see four men in silvery costumes. One of them stepped forward, yelling dramatically, "Johnny! You're dead!"

Kal assessed the situation in a blink; Johnny Taylor was seated near the entrance with several of his cronies, gaping in shock at the intruders. The silver-clad men pulled out some sort of weapons, aiming them at the hapless club owner. Moving before he thought to restrain himself, Kal launched himself across the room, dragging Johnny down to the floor behind a nearby table. A jet of fire streamed overhead, dissipating almost instantly, leaving only a fleeting impression of intense heat. Around him, Johnny's pals were setting the tables on end, using them as cover. Pulling out no-doubt-illegal hand guns, they sprayed the fire-bugs with a different, equally deadly form of fire. The intruders quickly turned and fled.

Johnny stirred beneath him, and Kal quickly moved aside, beginning to regret his actions. None of this was his concern ... even if he was fond of the man's sister. If their positions had been reversed, Johnny would certainly not have thought to worry about him. He scooted into a sitting position, surveying the room. For the first time, he was grateful for his imminent departure; this slip would come to nothing.

Johnny looked up. "Kal? Thanks, man! Lemme tell ya, anything you want, it's yours..." He was practically shaking with relief at the close call, and Kal hid a derisive smile. He'd seen Johnny promise people the world before; his generosity generally faded within a few hours.

"Just consider it payback for all the free drinks I've gotten over the years," he replied dryly.

Johnny's brow clouded a little at that, but Kal was distracted by the sudden realization that the room was on fire. He stood in one fluid motion, roughly pulling Johnny to his feet as well. "Get out of here," he ordered, giving the man a helpful push towards the main entrance.

Across the room, he saw Toni also ushering her guests out as quickly as possible without a panic. There were really only a few small fires, and one smoldering wall. If all these people would leave, he could take care of this himself, he realized. He debated the prospect for a moment. The Council was already going to have his head for interfering and endangering his cover as much as he had. So what was one more infraction? He grinned. After all, he owed these people a debt, and he was leaving. They'd accepted him with no questions asked, and taught him quite a lot that he hadn't found in reference books. Very well then.

Toni was just shooing the last of the patrons out and starting across the room for him. "Get out of here, Toni!" he called across the floor. "I'm fine - you go call 911." With one long last look, she turned and scurried out.

Kal turned back toward the stage, breathing in and thinking cold thoughts. Then he saw her.

Her hat had gone missing, but the bright yellow feathers attached to the form-fitting bodysuit made it impossible not to recognize her; she was one of the dancers. And from somewhere, she'd found a fire extinguisher and was coolly putting out a fire that had started licking at the base of the drapes near the stage. In a few strides, he crossed the room to her. Grabbing her shoulder, he pulled her around to face him. "Are you crazy?"

She looked up at him defiantly, a dark soot smear across one cheek. "This whole neighborhood is going up in smoke - you think the fire department is gonna get here in time? We've got to stop this, now."

Kal stared at her, suddenly unable to speak as something deep inside him came alive. When he'd first seen her, he'd thought her moderately attractive ... but now, even in her disheveled state, he knew her to be the most beautiful woman on two planets. He gradually became aware that she was scowling at him.

"Don't just stand there! Grab a fire extinguisher, or get out." She turned back to the drapes and gave them one last smothering blast of gas.

The noise broke his strange trance and he regained control of himself. "You get out," he insisted, grabbing her and pushing her towards the door. "I'll handle it."

She resisted, which shouldn't have surprised him, but did. "Don't give me that macho crap; I can do this."

Kal thought frantically. "Not in this get-up you can't," he finally offered, reaching out to flick at the wildly bobbing feathers. "These things could catch fire pretty easily, and then you'd be in trouble." She frowned at him, which he took as a good sign. "One spark and you're a roast chicken."

Her eyes narrowed. "Listen, you-"

He held up his hands, hoping to pacify her. "Look, I'm sure you're capable, but you can't risk yourself. Give me the fire extinguisher. I can handle this, but not if I'm arguing with you!" They were nearly nose to nose, exchanging heated glares, but then she glanced around the room and sighed.

"Okay, fine. You win. Whoever you are. Here." She thrust the metal canister at him, then turned and darted towards the front entrance.

Kal kept a wary eye on her, and this time, he was not surprised when she turned. Her eyes widened as she stared at a back wall, and he followed her gaze. On the wall, in large letters, was the word, "Toasters."

When he turned back towards the entrance, she was gone. Quickly, he scanned the whole building with his special vision and was relieved to see that no one was left inside. He inhaled and then gently blew super-cold air across the room. It wasn't quite as effective as the chemical mixture the dancer had been using, but it served the purpose, and one by one the fires went dead.

He surveyed the room in mingled dismay and satisfaction. The building wouldn't burn, but the room was a horrendous mess. No more shows tonight, and the thought of not seeing the dancer again brought a distinct pang of disappointment.

**My Lord Kal-El.**

Automatically, Kal stiffened to rigid attention, closing his eyes and lifting his face slightly, devoting all his concentration to the telepathic link. **I am here.** Lack of practice made the communication something of a strain.

**Your ship awaits. I am Lieutenant Ching. I am here to retrieve you, and to deliver a message.**

**Very good. I have prepared a landing zone with homing beacon.** Earlier in the day, he'd placed the beacon in the empty parking lot of a warehouse. He didn't own the structure, but he knew it would be undisturbed for the time being. **Wait six hours before landing. Air traffic will be at its lightest.**

There was a tinge of doubt in Ching's reply. **Earth detection systems are primitive.**

**They probably won't detect you,** Kal agreed, **but they might run into you. Wait six hours.**

**It will be as my Lord commands.**

**Very well. I await your coming.**

Kal terminated the connection.

A/N: Is this chapter too long? The full story has over 80,000 words altogether. I wasn't sure what a good length would be.

I'm not going to bother posting the rest of this unless there's interest, so if you want more, please let me know! Thanks.