They just keep coming to me. If I'm flooding you guys with too many stories, let me know and I'll take some time off. Hope you enjoy.

--

"I don't care how much fun it was, we don't have the spare room for you to have your own office Whitney, no. You and Lana will have to figure out some other way to get your perverted, old married couple jollies." Clark took a sip of coffee, adding a little more syrup to his pancakes.

Whitney huffed, sounding like a four year old not getting a new toy at the store. "Real fair bossman. Just wait 'til you and Lois are actually married someday when you figure out how to pop the question, and you'll feel the need to liven things up now and then."

Clark raised his brow. "Do you forget what happened in my office the first week I knew her Whitney?"

Whitney held his hands out. "See? That's exactly why I could use my own office. And a nice comfy couch like yours, that'd really come in handy."

"Who said we used the couch Whitney?"

He stared up at Clark across the table at the diner, his fork pushing his eggs around slowly, before it finally clicked. "Wait… you… the desk? Oh dammit Clark…" Whitney looked around the room, lowering his voice. "I at a sandwich off that desk last month. Ugggh."

Clark just grinned and went back to his breakfast. The past few weeks had been thankfully quiet. He and Lois had finally been honest with each other. Life was looking good. His hand rubbed over the box in his shirt pocket. He hadn't found the right moment just yet, but he knew he would soon.

After leaving money for the bill and listening to even more of Whitney's grumbling, they made their way out of the diner. "Whitney, you know I'd help you out if I could, but we just don't have the room and we don't have the budget to do any renovations. I'm sorry."

Whitney grunted. "Ah, I know bossman. Not your fault. I get it. But uh, you think now and then me and Lana…?"

"There aren't enough ways for me to say no to that question. The only way I can think to really emphasize it involves my gun." Clark stared over at his deputy.

Whitney held his hands up. "Fine, fine. Be that way. Save a man's life and can't even use his office… even if that man did something bad in my house. Involving a loofah."

"Would you just stop talking about that loofah? I bought you a new one, let it go Whit…" Clark was cut off when someone slammed into him. Reaching out he grabbed their arms. "Whoa whoa whoa, what's the rush?"

He looked down and saw a scared looking kid, couldn't be out of his teens even. Dirty blonde hair, scrawny, dressed in jeans, tennis shoes and a red hoody. "That guy… he's chasing me, you gotta stop him!" He looked back, pointing at the street.

Clark looked up and saw someone running at them. "It's fine, we're gonna talk about this and find out what's going on… hold on! Come back here!"

The kid broke out of Clark's grip and was already running hard down the sidewalk. Turning back, Clark managed to grab out at the man who was chasing the teen. "Hey, what's going on here?"

"I'm driving through to Metropolis, and that punk came up at the gas station and asked if I could spare some cash for a meal. Next thing he grabs my wallet and he's running! Why'd you let him go?"

Clark closed his eyes, realizing he'd been had. "I'm sorry sir. The impression I was given was that you were trying to hurt him. Let's go to the station, you can give a statement and we'll do what we can to get you on your way. You have full use of our office to contact anyone you need to." Clark gestured to Whitney and he started leading the irate man back down the sidewalk toward the station.

Turning to look back down the sidewalk, Clark sighed. He'd let that kid go so easily. Running a hand over his face, he started back down the sidewalk when a thought hit him. Patting his pockets down, he searched his jacket, his jeans and his shirt. The box was gone. "Oh that little… Damn!" Clark cussed to himself the whole way back, unable to believe his luck.

--

That afternoon all the paperwork had been filed and the man was back on the road. Clark sat in his office, fuming. Whitney walked in to give him the final paperwork and noticed something was strange. Clark was cleaning his gun. "Bossman, something going on I need to know about?"

"Nope. Just preparing for the future. You never know when you might need to protect yourself. Or shoot some thieving little punk." Clark finished scrubbing out the barrel and replaced the slide. "Why do you ask?"

Whitney raised his eyebrow. Tossing the file on the desk, he sat down on the corner… before hopping off the desk, suddenly remembering what he learned that morning in the diner. "You're taking this pretty hard. You couldn't have known he was a crook that quick boss, he had us both convinced he was just scared."

Clark didn't say anything, slamming the clip back into his pistol and pulling back on the slide, looking into the breach to make sure a round chambered. Finally satisfied, he put the pistol back in the holster on his belt.

Whitney kept staring at him, before something clicked into place. "The kid lifted something off of you didn't he?"

Clark glared up at him, but didn't answer.

Whitney chuckled. "What'd he get? Your wallet? You got a lot of bad luck with guys liftin' that off you."

Clark sat back, still not answering.

"Look, it's no big deal Clark. We don't have to put it on the report, we'll just get it back without bringing it up."

"Just drop it Whitney. I'm going back out there, maybe this kid hasn't let town yet." Grabbing his jacket, Clark made his way back out of the office. Stepping out, he felt the chill of the air biting at him. It was still pretty cold, the dregs of winter hanging on here at the end of February. Getting in the Charger, Clark made his way down main street, keeping his eye on the stores, looking for any flash of that red hoody.

Half an hour later he was no closer to finding the kid, and he was getting more pissed off.

Pulling to a stop by the curb, Clark rubbed a hand over his face. The buzz in his pocket took his mind off the problem for a moment and he had to smile when he looked at the screen of his cell phone. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"I'll have you know I just turned in tomorrow's headline mister, so don't get smart with me."

He laughed. "How's your day been going Lois?"

"It's good. We finished the story on the bank fraud and the managers were trying to hit us with libel suits. But that's not going anywhere."

Clark smiled. "You're loving this too much, you know that Lois?"

"Hey, when I stop loving my job I need to get a new one."

"Good point. So uh… when do you think I'll get to see you again?"

"Well if someone didn't have to sneak out for an early shift they could have seen me this morning."

He grinned. "We both know that if I woke you up, I'd have been late to work and you'd have been late getting back to Metropolis."

"Says you. I still think it would have been worth investigating."

Leaning his head back, he finally felt the tension from the day drain out of him. "Thank you Lois, you just made my day all better."

"Better? Did something happen?"

"Just this pickpocket, slipped right out from under me. Looks like an innocent kid and goes right under the radar."

"Don't worry, you'll get him eventually Smallville. Just try not to rough him up too badly because of your bruised ego."

He sighed. "My ego isn't bruised Lois. Besides, if it was I could just get you to kiss it all better now couldn't I?"

There was silence on the line for a minute and Clark knew he caught her off guard with that one.

"You're evil, you know that Smallville?"

"It's why you love me Lois."

"Maybe, maybe not. Don't push it."

He laughed loudly. "Well, on the record, I love you."

"Love you too Sheriff. Lunch tomorrow?"

"Yea. I'll meet you at your office. Don't work too hard sweety."

"Don't push it buddy."

"Goodbye Lois."

"Bye Sheriff Kent."

Ending the call, he smiled. She always loved messing with him, trying to keep him on his toes. But it was nice to know he could catch her now and then too.

Climbing out of the Charger, he started making his way down Main Street, talking to some of the store owners at the places he figured someone new in town might need to go. The diner, grocery store, drug store… all of them had seen someone matching the description but they didn't know where he was.

About ready to give it up for the day, he suddenly thought about something. Kicking himself for not thinking about it earlier, Clark walked over to the hotel. Pulling the door open for an older couple who were walking out, he stepped inside, wiping the slush off his boots. "Hey Charlie."

The old man behind the counter smiled. "Sheriff Kent, what brings you around this afternoon?"

"Come on Charlie, it's just Clark. I've told you that a hundred times."

"Well excuse me, the badge and the shirt had me confused for a minute." He smiled. "What can I do for you Sheriff?"

Clark rolled his eyes. "I'm looking for someone, might be renting a room here. Looks to be a teenager, about 5'7'', 5'8''. Scrawny, dirty blonde hair. Last I saw him he was wearing a red hoody."

Old Charlie rubbed his chin. "That sounds familiar. Top floor, room 7D. It was really important the room was near the stairwell."

Clark nodded. "Makes sense. Thanks Charlie." Clark started toward the stairs, making his way up the long walk to the seventh floor. "Would have to pick the penthouse, wouldn't he?"

Walking slowly the closer he got, Clark opened the door to the stairwell just in time to see the kid in question opening the door to his room, ready to leave apparently. He looked up and saw the sheriff, and his eyes bugged. "Crap."

Clark smirked slightly, already on the move. "C'mere kid, we need to talk."

Standing still for a moment, the perp moved quickly, rushing back into the room and flinging the door shut.

Clark blocked the slamming door with his foot, pushing it back open. "Nowhere to go buddy, just relax and…" His eyes went wide when he saw the kid standing in the open window. Giving Clark a wave he jumped out onto the fire escape, carrying his backpack.

Clark ran across the room and leaned out. There was no sign of the kid moving on the fire escape. Hearing rattling above him, Clark looked up and saw feet disappearing onto the roof. "You gotta be kidding me." Stepping through the window, he started running up the stairs to the roof.

Climbing up over the ledge, he looked around for the perp. He saw nothing but an old satellite dish, the access door from the stairwell and part of an old greenhouse someone had started up here who knows how long ago. "That's just weird." He walked around, work boots crunching on the pebbled roof. "Now there's really nowhere to run kid. Just give it up."

The perp stepped out from behind greenhouse, grinning. "Guess you got me, bro. Good job. I'm usually quicker than most people, but there's something about you."

Clark shook his head. "Just come with me, we're heading to the station."

The kid shrugged, and then twisted, taking off running full speed. Clark rushed behind him, trying to get to him before he hit the edge of the roof.

The kid hit the edge and jumped. Clark skidded to a stop on the rocks, pin wheeling his arms to keep from falling over himself. He saw the perp fall into a roll on the next rooftop nearly 20 feet away, springing up to his feet. Looking down, Clark felt a flash of queasiness. Getting control he looked up to see the kid heading for the stairs on the opposite roof. "See you later big guy! Thanks for the workout!"

Grunting, Clark walked along the edge and dropped to the fire escape, running down the metal stairs. Jumping over the bottom rail he dropped to the dumpster, then the ground. Running out of the alley he turned the corner to see the kid popping out of the front door of the building. "Hey! Get over here!"

The kid looked up, shocked. But he was immediately on the move again.

Growling in frustration, Clark started after him again. Running a few blocks the kid ducked into another alley and Clark was on his tail. Up ahead a stack of trash and a dumpster were pushed up against a ten foot fence.

The perp slowed to a stop, in front of the dumpster. Clark stopped further back, taking deep breaths. "Look… there's really nowhere to go now. Just give it up."

The kid took a breath himself, looking around. "Maybe you're right. But maybe not." He took a step, jumping up onto one of the crates, then running across the top of the dumpster, jumping and posting his feet on the wall of the building before pushing off, gripping the top of the fence and spinning over it, climbing down the other side. It all took less than five seconds.

Clark stared at the kid. "What the hell…?"

The kid shrugged. "See you on the flipside big guy." Saluting, he ran off down the alley.

Clark bent over, his hands on his knees. Yelling out in frustration he looked around… and grinned. Walking off down the alley, he chuckled.

The perp pulled his iPod out of his pack, keying up a pulsing song as he ran along the alley, laughing about the look on the sheriff's face. Pulling the hood up he saw the main street and picked up the speed, wanting to get to his hotel room and get the last of his gear before the cops put two and two together.

He didn't hear the screeching tires, and he didn't see the car whipping around into the alley before it was too late. Unable to stop he ran into the front of the car and rolled across the hood, landing on the concrete on his back with a groan.

Clark stepped out of the Charger and walked over to the kid, kneeling down. "Hey buddy, you ok? You really need to watch out, you ran right into my car there." Picking him up by his shirt, Clark pulled the backpack off of him and pulled his arms back. "You're under arrest for robbery and evading an officer. You have the right to remain silent…"

--

Clark stepped into the interrogation room. "Enjoying the accommodations?"

The kid glared up at him, holding his hands up and showing the cuffs chaining him to the table. "Is this necessary?"

Clark sat down across from him. "Well… yes. You've already run three times."

"What? It was only once!"

Clark shook his head. "I'm counting the first time on the street, the hotel room, and the roof. I don't like heights, and you made me go up really high."

The kid smirked. "Sorry, I just wasn't really thrilled about the idea of going to jail. And hey, I'm pretty sure the defense will get me off when they bring up the fact you hit me with your car man."

Clark looked at him questioningly. "Hit you? No, I was parking my car and you weren't paying attention, ran right into it. You need to be careful wearing those headphones while you jog."

Pulling on the cuffs, he sighed. "Fine, how'd you know where I was heading?"

"That's the alley that runs behind the south side of downtown. There's construction down at the end near the courthouse, I figured you had to come out near the water tower onto Mill Road. And my car was right near the alley where you 'lost' me."

The smirk twisted slightly into a sneer. "So fine, what's next? Slap on the wrist and a night in jail?"

"It's not that simple." Clark opened the file. "A search of your hotel room, the backpack, and the beat up Hyundai we found the keys for in your room brought up a lot of interesting stuff. Items from over two dozen reported robberies and thefts from here to Granville in the past week. You've been busy. So let's start off with your name, age, the basics."

The kid shook his head, not saying anything.

"Well, we ran the registration and plates, but I have a hard time believing that you're Wilmer Rosenberg, especially considering that he reported the car stolen a month ago. So what's the deal? Why all the stealing?"

The kid laughed. "Is this where we have the heart to heart and you tell me it's not my fault? It's my upbringing, or my childhood, or the fact my mommy didn't hug me?"

Clark sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. "No, that's a load of bull. It is your fault. You made the choices, and I don't really care if your mom hugged you, tucked you in or breast fed you too long, it doesn't make what you've done alright. So… why all the stealing?"

The kid sat back, huffing. "I don't know man, it's just a feeling that comes to me. An impulse or something."

Clark nodded. "Alright, that's a little better. Now how about your age and name?"

The kid stared back at him, not saying a word.

Clark sighed. "Alright then, we'll just keep you here. If we can't make an ID the case can't go to court and you're stuck in that cell for who knows how long." Clark stood up, grabbing the file and making his way to the door.

"18."

He turned around at the door. "Alright, so now we know that you're a big boy. Name?"

The kid rolled his eyes and sighed. Looking back to Clark, he grinned just barely. "Bart. Bart Allen. Happy now?"

Clark smiled. "Ecstatic. I'm gonna go get some coffee, but I'll be back. And then Bart, you and me are gonna become best friends." He winked as he opened the door and stepped out. "Back in a flash."