Clark landed on Lois' terrace wearily. Most nights coming here was a relief but tonight it didn't feel like a port in storm. It felt like he was standing in the eye of a tornado, and in a few moments, the wind would change direction and the full terrible force would sweep him up.

She was waiting in the wicker chair, her feet curled under her. She had changed into sweats and a Daily Planet T-shirt. Though she wasn't going to face up to it for a while, Maurie's death was already hitting her hard. Normally she avoided meeting him in anything less than her work clothes and she rarely sat down when they spoke. Usually him disturbing her in a relaxed moment like this would have flustered her. Tonight she didn't seem worried about being on an equal footing.

She lifted her head and smiled.

"Hey Superman, I didn't expect to see you tonight." The weariness and tears were easy enough to detect but he couldn't reach out and stroke her hair, or rest her head on his shoulder, no matter how his hands ached to do that. Superman couldn't rub a woman's feet, he wouldn't even have a prosaic impulse like that. So though he suspected the idea would appeal to Lois, she was the reason he could never do that.

Some days, he really hated that first article she had written. It was some of her finest work; that was true. But it was also about a person he didn't even recognise. This alien who descended from the skies one night and awed a young reporter with his incredible power. Lois Lane had never been awed by Clark Kent. But she was bedazzled by Superman. Maybe it was uncharitable for him to think that way but on nights when he desperately wanted to be with her it was hard not to resent the person that came between him. The last son of Krypton.

As Chloe was fond of pointing out, he was definitely going to be the last if he couldn't find some way out of the hole he had dug himself into.

"Lois, I'm sorry about your friend. I read the obituary." Lois nodded, ducking her head a little. "He sounded like a great reporter."

"He was the best," she sighed and finally stood up. She wandered over to her fading collection of pot plants and half-heartedly watered them. "I think I know why you're here."

"You do?"

"Now Maurie's dead, I'm the best," she laughed bitterly. "Maybe joint," she amended. Clark smiled slightly, she could be pretty charitable to his feelings when she didn't realise he was around. Assuming that she was ranking him alongside her. Assuming anything with Lois was a risky business. "There's been another murder, hasn't there?" She asked gravely and he assented. "What happened?"

"With your permission, I'd like to show you something." He held out his hand and she took it without hesitation. Chloe had asked him how it was possible for a person to be jealous of themselves and here was the answer. The way she trusted him with no questions when he was wearing this costume, and yet entertained doubts about him when he was wearing anything else. It didn't matter that he was to blame for all that, it didn't matter that he was both Superman and Clark Kent. All that implied his response had rationality at its heart. But there wasn't anything logical about how she made him feel when she looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes, and said to him,

"Let's go flying." He nodded and began to lift her into his arms before she stopped him. "Shoes, Superman? A reporter needs to look after her feet." He smiled at her as she ran back into her apartment for a pair of sneakers and hopped back out, trying to tie her laces as she moved. Was it strange that he liked this side of her almost the best?

Ten minutes later, he was still holding her in his arms. They were hovering above the edge of the building overlooking the employee parking lot of a supermarket. He told her he didn't want to disturb any possible evidence on the roof but part of him just wanted to keep her close by him for a few illicit moments. Flying with Lois could be an entirely innocent event, since she took such pure joy in the experience it was hard not to feel that too. But often, feeling her fingers curled around his arm and her body moulded against his, it felt like something quite different. It was one of the only ways he still had left that he could touch her and he wasn't about to give it up for the sake of decorum.

"So….some of us don't have super-eyes? What am I supposed to be seeing?" Lois was peering down at the lot, watching the cops scour every inch of the ground, interview staff, take photos of the body.

"He was chloroformed to subdue him and then he was stabbed in the heart. His name is George Philips. This is where he buys his snacks when he's working late."

"Okay, still not getting it."

"They covered the message before we arrived. It was sprayed beside him on the tarmac. It said 'He is the only son'."

"Suggestive but not conclusive."

"Lois, I know what was written at the other scenes. The first said, 'He will deliver us'. The second said 'He was sent to us'. The third said 'He is watching over us'. Now this."

"Superman, all due respect, but your ego has to be pretty big to assume they're talking about you. It's obviously religious."

"The victim at the second scene was wearing an inverted 'S' shield t-shirt." Lois shrugged.

"So what? Some kids like wearing them, it's just empty posturing. Clark hasn't found anything solid yet and he knows how to dig around."

"I knew the first victim Lois," he said softly. She studied his face and he tried to maintain an inscrutable expression. It drove her nuts, which sometimes gave him a kick. Tonight, wasn't one of those nights."And you know George Philips." Lois craned her neck as if a few inches would give her a clear view of the man's face, already obscured by crime technicians.

"Drawing a huge blank."

"He writes a blog you've reported on before. 'How to kill Superman'?" Lois drew in her breath sharply.

"That bastard?" Lois wasn't about to pull her punches because the man was dead. He had rarely seen her as angry as when she locked horns in print with the anonymous blogger. Philips was behind posts that speculated on how Superman could be murdered. All harmless hypothesising and the author was in no way suggesting anyone should break the law. But it didn't take long to find links to other, less coy sites, that suggested Superman was variously the first wave of an alien invasion, a tool of the federal government, or a threat to free market economics, and was therefore public enemy number one, no matter how many old ladies he saved from being hit by buses. Lois had often railed against the D.A. for refusing to prosecute the writer but Clark was aware any move against the man would be interpreted as an act against free speech. Chloe had promised to keep an eye on the site in case any of the posts looked like they might hit on an effective method but as yet, the wider public was unaware of Kryptonite. He hoped to keep it that way. Now Philips represented an entirely different threat.

"He wasn't my favourite person either Lois but he didn't deserve to be murdered like this. Whoever is behind these killings has an agenda, and it seems to be tied into me, or the person they think I am. These messages have disturbingly messianic overtones and that worries me a great deal." He sighed and moved them away from the crime-scene to a roof further away. He reluctantly set her down and crossed his arms over his chest. Discussing his problems with Lois, whether he was doing it in a coded way as her work colleague, or more directly as Superman, also helped him clarify his thoughts. She cut through the bullshit better than anyone he knew, and few people were prepared to when speaking to his costumed self. "I've always had people fixating on what they assume are my dangerous intentions. I'm never going to be able to persuade some people that I mean no harm to this planet. But people believing I'm some…some…"

"God?" He looked at her sharply. "Come on, did you really think this was so unlikely?" Her tone was disbelieving. "You don't seem to have any limits. You save lives. You save cities! And you were sent to Earth by your father to save us all? It's not much of a reach."

"I never encouraged this," he said uneasily. Hearing Lois say those things unnerved him. Of all people, she should be able to see how absurd this was. But then she wasn't looking at Smallville, she was looking at Superman. "You know that, don't you?" He felt desperate suddenly. Maybe she would never see the man he really was when he wore this shield but he couldn't bear it if she saw some second coming instead.

"Of course I know that."

"Good," he sighed. "That's good." They were both silent for a moment, studying each other in the dim glow coming from the street lights below. The curve of her jaw was a mere shadow in this darkness so the urge to explore it was even stronger. The feeling threatened to overwhelm him so he tuned into his hearing, letting his attention be diffused by the sounds all around him. Once his self-control was firmly back in place, he could go back to being Superman. He had learned a long time ago that people demanded an aura of complete control and confidence to go with his abilities. After all, if he didn't seem like he knew what to do with his strength, then how they could trust him to use it wisely. He could afford few shows of weakness, although around her it was tempting to drop the performance. He needed to get out of here before his unsteady reactions tripped him up.

Watching Lois suffering was always difficult but in the last few weeks she had seemed to be sliding further and further away from herself. When Cat had made one of customary jokes about Superman stories earlier that day, he had actually seen her hands jerk into involuntary fists. Drinking with her at Maurie's favourite bar had seemed to take some of the edge off her rage but he knew it wasn't going away quickly. She was angry with everyone for Maurie dying. The world, herself, even Maurie. Not many people knew how much time she had spent at his bedside in the hospital and then the hospice. Lois let few people see her vulnerable side, or the depths of her loyalty. Only a handful of people would be aware that her mentor had died of the same disease that had taken the life of her mother.

He needed to get this over and done with so he could stop being Superman and be a man who could offer her some meagre comfort.

"You're going to want to ignore me Miss Lane but I'm asking you let your colleague investigate these killings. Until I know more about the motivations behind this, I have to assume that people who are connected to my name in some way are at risk, however remote."

"I'm not a critic though," Lois said, affronted. "I'm your biggest cheerleader!" She blushed a little and looked at the skyline. "Print-wise. It's good for my career."

"Exactly, you're publicly aligned with me. But this person thinks they're in my corner. They may not feel there's room for both of you."

"I got there first," she muttered. "And I'm not going to avoid reporting on one of the biggest stories in this city just because there might be some armed fanatic running around." He almost groaned out loud. He knew that appealing to her instinct for self-preservation was foolhardy.

"Lois, this is far more serious than one fixated individual. This person knows a lot more than a simple fan with press clippings. They were able to discover that Philips was behind the blog; not an easy thing to do. And it's possible they knew who the first victim was, and how he was connected to me."

"Yeah, are you going to elaborate on that?" He stared at her. "Guess that's a no. Are you telling me I shouldn't look at that? Because even if I wasn't going to be the one to chase it down, I would tell Clark. I'm a reporter, not your priest."

"I can't forbid you from doing anything Lois, I know you better than that. I can only ask. But what you find might be not something I'd want to see in print."

"Are you asking me not to look at the first victim?" Clark looked at her. If he said yes, she would anyway and would be angry with him, even if she decided she shouldn't publish it. But if he said no, then he would be signalling that he wasn't reluctant to have her delving into his life and that he trusted her with his secrets. Was he really comfortable with her discovering a connection between him and Belle Reeve? Even if she found something, would she accept what she found? What were the limits of the shield?

But he had already made the decision when he had first admitted he knew the dead man. If he was generous to himself, it was because she might be the best chance he had of discovering who was behind these murders. But deep down, hadn't he told her because he wanted her to know? He wanted her to find out. He wanted her to know everything.

He walked closer to her and studied her face. Was he really that desperate? Had the loneliness finally sapped him of his sense? Giving Lois any further clues would bring her closer to the truth but it would also bring her closer to the killer. It was an utterly selfish decision.

"Forgive me."

"What for?" She said quietly.

"I told myself I was bringing you here to warn you. But I wasn't. I know how you work Miss Lane. I know this is all going to make you want to chase this story even harder. And I want you to find out who's behind this, because you are the best. But the truth puts you at risk. Your safety should come first." As he spoke, he saw her mood rapidly shift from subdued to furious. As he finished, she jabbed a finger at his chest and retorted,

"You really think that without your tip-offs I wouldn't be able to find out anything by myself? Take responsibility for the lives of every Metropolis citizen if you want, but don't take responsibility for my ability to do my job!" Now he had absolutely incensed her and he could see her point. It wasn't that he thought she wouldn't be able to find out about Belle Reeve herself, it was that he had steered her in that direction for self-serving reasons. "You think I'm some naïf, wandering through our meetings with too many stars in my eyes to notice you're using me?"

"Using you?" He said with shock.

"Of course you are! 'My night with Superman', 'Why the world needs Superman', Superman, Superman, Superman! And it's helped me make my name far earlier than I might have done without you. But you think I don't see what this is?"

"What 'this' are you talking about?"

"Visiting me on my balcony at night. Flying me around town in your arms. Talking about your belief in truth, justice, the American way! I'm your biggest cheerleader," she said bitterly, "and you're the star quarterback. I'm practically your press agent! I make you look good. I always have, right from when you were blurring around town rescuing kittens out of trees." She laughed wildly. "All this time, I told myself that you picked me because I was the best. But I'm not! I make it into the pages of history because I was easily manipulated!"

"Lois, that's not…that's not…" He stared at her with horror. Is that what she really thought? That he came to her because he could exploit her romantic feelings towards him for the right kind of media coverage? "Do you really believe that?"

"What else can I think Superman," she sighed, turning her body away from him, her anger deflating rapidly. "When you turned up tonight, I was thinking…I was hoping…" There was a hitch in her breath and he realised she was crying. "I buried a man I looked up to today. When you landed on the roof I almost hoped that you'd come to talk to me about him. About a friend who I loved. Did you know he died just like my mother? Do you know I had a mother? Do you even know her name?"

He wanted to say her name, it was almost on his lips. But he held back.

"But it was just business you'd come for, and that was fine. I know the score there. Then you pretend to be horrified that you're using me to help you. And you insult my abilities. You patronise me. This is never going to anything other than this, is it? Meeting on rooftops to talk about a dead body." She turned her face and wiped away her tears brusquely.

"No," he said firmly. "You're wrong." This was all wrong, all of it. He had said all the wrong things. He hadn't known she felt like this. He thought she was okay with the terms of their relationship. But this was all too familiar. He had been here before, the night she had broken up with him. Then he had believed that he could give her only the bare minimum and that she would be content. The arrogance of it astounded him. He might be able to live with these scraps of something real but she still had dreams of something better. Love with a whole man, not one split down the middle. "You're wrong," he added desperately.

But he had tried before to hold on to her, even as she slipped out of his reach. The night he had come to see her in the hospital, thanking his lucky stars that she had survived her ordeal in one whole piece. It had been the first time he had to risk her safety for the sake of the city and so many times he had almost left Metropolis to its fate so he could go to her side.

He had consoled himself that this time, at least, he had managed to get away with it.

But he hadn't known then what he knew now. That night he hadn't got away with it. He had gambled with her life but he had also staked her heart without realising.

And he had lost it.