-Chapter Three-

The Apple Orchard was no longer an apple orchard, but the old barn had been converted back in the sixties and was available to hire for events. It was popular in town because it was big and, with a gambrel roof and open rafters, authentically rustic. In the end room, where the presses used to be, there was now a large and well-furnished kitchen.

Lois and her family had spent most of the day there, preparing for the party. While her sister's kids ran around and early-arrivers milled in and out, helping her uncle and brother-in-law arrange the main room, the women busily put the finishing touches to platters of food, giggling and backchatting over each other as they worked.

Wearing a pair of huge quilted mitts, Lois rose from the oven to slide a large baking dish onto the countertop, "She's just bitter because I have always had the greater mastery over the ways of the flan." Her mitts did a showroom 'voila' gesture over the flan to emphasize her point.

Along the counter, Lucy snorted while she added vinegar dressing to a bowl of salad. "This from the girl who tried to serve me charbroiled lasagna. Charbroiled lasagna."

Lois looked wounded as her aunt and cousin snickered. "An honest mix up with your counter-intuitive oven settings, sis." She placed a mitt over her heart- "And below the apron strings."

The kitchen door opened and a small, silver-haired woman entered the room backwards carrying two cake boxes, one on top of the other. "Hey there, everyone. Did someone order pie?"

Moira directed the woman to a space on the kitchen table and put down a pair of tongs to clasp her hands, "Martha, you're a marvel."

Setting down the boxes and lifting open a lid, Martha revealed the first pie to the group. Its golden-brown crust was finished with an intricate lattice pattern and, in the middle, four delicate pastry apple leaves.

Her flan-bragging brought into its proper perspective, Lois was genuinely awed. "I think that's the most impressive thing I've ever seen."

Then Martha opened the other box and a pie a size bigger was inside. Everyone around the table cooed.

"Okay. That's the most impressive thing I've ever seen," Lois corrected.

The lady allowed herself a modest chuckle as Moira gently patted Lois on the small of the back, "Martha, you remember Lois- my brother's eldest? Lois, this is Martha Kent. Clark's mom."

The lady's face lit up, "Lois! Of course." Seeing Lucy and Lois standing together, she mused, "Goodness. Look at you two girls, all grown up." Lucy, the youngest, Martha knew from more recent visits. She was the same build as Lois, svelte and slim, and with the same dark looks. They were both wearing jeans, Lucy with a sleeveless, black top, and Lois in a fitted plaid button up. Lucy's hair was straight and cut in a bob whereas Lois's hair tumbled over her shoulders in waves. But that they were sisters was obvious. "So pretty, just like your mother." Martha leaned in a little to twinkle at Lois, "You know, the last time I saw you, you ate too much ice cream and threw up all over my husband's shoulder."

Lois's eyes flicked to the side and back. "If this doesn't turn out to be an embarrassing baby story, I can only apologize unreservedly and assure you I no longer drink tequila."

Martha closed one eye, "I guess you were about three years old at the time."

Lois clicked and cocked her fingers, "Clark's fifth birthday party."

They smiled widely at each other before Martha's expression turned puckish. "You know, you made quite an impression on my son, last night."

Unsuccessfully staving off the rising heat on her cheeks, Lois opened her mouth.

From behind her, her cousin chipped in, "Feeling's mutual, Mrs K- you should have heard her this morning. She asked if she-"

"Thank you, Chloe!" Lois gritted through a fixed grin to her cousin's unrepentant glee. Lois went back to addressing Martha. "Your son was my knight-in-shining-armor last night, ma'am." She gave a simple shrug, "I don't know what I would've done without him. He's a credit to you."

The middle of Martha's forehead knotted. "Thank you."

A knock on the door interrupted them and Clark leaned in, "Mom. Gabe says three's plenty, so I've left the other keg in the-" he trailed off, unnerved by the way everyone was looking at him. "...truck."

Everyone in her family except Lois drawled out a giggly, "Hi Clark!"

"Ladies." He saw her then, and sort of shuffled, recognizing they had been cast together into the glare of the spotlight, "Lois."

A band had tightened across Lois's chest. In jeans and a dark shirt, and now clean shaven, she knew, she knew that she had never met a man she found so physically attractive. She smiled back and tried to psychically transmit an apology on her family's behalf.

"Well, if you're looking for something to do." Moira ducked under the table and reappeared with a large cardboard box, "Lois was just about to go out back and hang the lights." She smiled sweetly at them both, "Maybe you could help her?"

...

They stole a chair from under Gabe's stewardship and set up in one corner of the porch that ran the length of the side of the barn facing the orchard. The early evening sunshine cast long shadows amongst the old apple trees.

With the box between them, they began to untangle the first knotted balls of string lights.

Lois sneaked a sidelong look at Clark. "Have we just been set up?"

He shared her embarrassed grin. "Smallville-style."

Rolling her lips, she nodded. "There's a certain lack of subtlety to the way things work around here. I forget."

"I guess it takes a little tuning in to."

Carefully she unwound where two bulbs had caught together, "No, I like it. It's refreshing."

"You're turning native on me, Miss Lane."

Off her look of inquiry, he said, "You look good in plaid."

Surprised, Lois pulled at one of the buttons on her shirt, "This? This is my sister's wardrobe coming to the rescue. I hand washed it, like, three times, but you have no idea how hard it is to get the smell of smoked tire out of layered chiffon."

She giggled when he replied with a straight face, "Actually, I do. But I made a vow with myself never to speak of it again." He added, simply, "It suits you."

"When in Rome."

"Almost as much as my sweater."

Lois stopped what she was doing. "I knew I'd forgotten something."

He smiled that he was teasing her. "How's your head, today?"

She nodded slowly, in appreciation. "Okay. You did a good job."

"I'll be your cutman any time."

They lapsed into silence. She gave him another sidelong glance. "You're a good guy, you know that?"

He regarded her, a wry expression on his face. "It's been said."

"Just talking to people," Lois continued, without looking at him. Her fingers were working at undoing where two separate stands of wire had become twisted into a braid. "People around here think a lot of you."

Flippant, he offered, "I'm a good guy."

They had freed up the first section of lights. Clark positioned the chair and stepped up onto it. While Lois fed him the lights and he attached them, she stared at him. "There's more to it than that."

She heard him sigh before he stepped down off the chair. "I went off to cover a war. I'm sure that's part of it." He wiped some dust off his hands on the back of his jeans. "I got shot, I got a medal." He met her eyes, "A smalltown boy being a big hero."

"So how did that happen?"

His eyes sparkled with mischief. "I should've listened when someone yelled 'duck'."

She looked away, chuckling. "That's not what I meant."

Grinning, softly, he told her he knew. They moved the box and chair along and Clark hopped back on. "I wanted to travel the world. So I did. Everything else fell into place after that."

Lois handed over the next length of lights. "You make it sound very simple."

"Growing up on a farm, usually you have two pretty clear career choices."

"Stay or go."

He nodded. "I had it in my head I was going to have the best of both worlds- go off and get my law degree. Come back and open a small practice." He threw her a look, "Real Atticus Finch stuff, you know?"

If he was scared of sounding corny, she showed no sign that she thought so. Instead, she looked intrigued, "Law degree?"

He shrugged, hopping down again. "I figured that way I'd still be around- helping my parents, and doing what I wanted to do."

"And what was that?"

"Making a difference to the world, in some, small way? Making things better, easier." There was a slight lift of his shoulders, "Helping people?" Again, he looked almost embarrassed to be telling her, but the way she was looking at him, so clear-eyed and sincere, encouraged him. He sighed, "My father died that summer before college, and I thought, well, that's it. No way I can leave now."

Gently, Lois said, "But you did."

"My mom." They moved the chair on and he climbed up. "I think she saw the world suddenly reduce in size for me, and she hated it. And so the opposite happened." He smiled wryly, "I didn't just leave town, I left the country. It was like," he stopped for a moment, "being a widow, and alone, and muddling on without me was somehow the better option." He shook his head, as if still in wonder about it, "She was pretty adamant."

Lois didn't disguise her respect. "Your mom sounds like an amazing woman."

Clark stepped to the floor and nudged the chair on. He stepped back up and she fed him the next section. "I deferred enrollment, took out all my savings, and off I went. To see the world."

Her eyes shone. "Where'd you go?"

"Oh. Everywhere. Mexico first, then down through South America and over to Europe. My savings ran out before the year did but my hostel owner in Riga part-owned the local paper. For beer money I submitted a few articles that he could translate." Clark hopped down and wiped his hands on his jeans again, "They were sketches, really. Little travelogues about my misadventures. Where I'd already been, and the stuff I'd seen."

"An innocent abroad?"

They grinned at each other. "Basically." Clark raised an eyebrow, looking away. "But he liked them, and I liked writing them, and I found it came easy." He picked up the chair and they moved along to hang the last set of lights. "I deferred another year and freelanced my way all over Africa, then Asia, the subcontinent." He stepped up onto the chair and she unwound more flex as he needed it. "When I came home, I knew what I wanted to do. Gotham U granted me a transfer to the journalism program. I graduated, ended up shipping out to Sierra Leone on my first assignment."

"For AFP, right?"

He turned his head to look at her.

"I would turn up the odd article by you." She coughed, "occasionally. How'd you wind up writing for the Gazette?"

"I met Bruce Wayne on a basecamp in the Urubamba basin that first year and we've been friends ever since. When the paper needed a special correspondent in Kabul, I got a phone call from the editor's office."

"Is that why you went to the Gazette? Because of the Waynes?"

Finished with the lights, Clark stepped down to her. "Yes and no. I'd already spent a couple of internships there. But Thomas was brave enough to give me my break. I wanted that job, so it-"

"Hey, stranger."

Lois and Clark turned to see a pretty, redheaded woman appear on the porch.

With surprised delight, Clark said, "Lana!"

"I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"You found me."

In a rush the woman strode along the porch and straight into Clark's arms, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. It seemed a private moment and Lois automatically took a step back.

"How's it going?"

"Pretty good."

Lana leaned away from him, frowning, "You got shot, Clark."

"Yeah."

"Don't do that again."

He grinned at her, "It wasn't exactly intentional the first time."

"That's his story."

For the first time the other woman's attention moved off Clark. Lois exchanged an expectant, knowing look with him.

"You must be Lois." Lana said brightly. They shook hands. "I was just catching up with your sister and cousin."

With a small, warm smile, Lois patted herself on the side of the leg, "I'll leave you guys to do the same." She tilted her head at the door, "See you in there."

...

When the lights dimmed, and despite protests, Lucy and Lois were dragged onto the dancefloor by Lucy's children and from that point on were unable to engineer a successful escape. As the out-of-towners at the party, they seemed to attract a lot of attention from a long line of local admirers. Eventually, Lucy's husband David took pity and stepped in. The unmarried sister, Lois was taking a double hit of having neither a husband to intervene, or act as an effective repellent in the first place. There was a DJ and the music was loud, so she could hear only in snatches, but by the end of the first hour of the party, Lois was pretty sure every guy that had cut in to dance with her had taken the opportunity to hit on her.

She had not spoken to Clark since she'd left him on the porch. Every so often she would glimpse him through the crowd, off to the side, either standing alone or chatting to someone, but she was never able to catch his eye.

Insisting on grabbing something to eat, Lois was finally able to break away from the dancefloor halfway through 'Love Shack' and find respite in a darkened corner by the dessert table. It was a short-lived, pyrrhic, victory, because even before the song had finished the same guy she'd left on the dancefloor came looking for her and, without time to react, he had her trapped in conversation.

She discovered that the man's name was Andy and, having once been of Smallville, he was now a citizen of Metropolis. On that basis, and without ever actually saying the words, he seemed to intimate, several times, that he and Lois should hook up. Lois held nothing against Andy. He seemed a decent enough man and although he was not what Lois would immediately describe as handsome, she thought he had a pleasant face. But she could also detect a desperation in his eyes that she had seen before and that she always found off-putting. Lois was not sure how many times one could, without ever actually saying the words, politely and graciously shoot someone down, but it was evidently a lot. With the conversation going round in ever-decreasing circles, figuring she had nothing to lose, she made a tactical decision.

Lois led Andy back on to the floor. She had already assumed her arm's-length-away position opposite when the disco lights softened and the music changed, and she realized her plan had backfired spectacularly. As a romantic violin intro started, and Sarah Vaughan began to sing, with the expression of a man for whom Christmas, birthdays and the lottery jackpot had come all at once, Andy carefully reached for her hands to pull her in for his dance. A slow dance.

Lois beamed at him, and swallowed and quietly wondered why there was never a lightning strike when you really needed it.

Behind her, a deep voice said, "Mind if I cut in?"

Several inches shorter, Andy's gaze had to lift upwards to meet the eye-line of Clark Kent, who was now standing between himself and Lois.

Clark was smiling at Andy, so earnest and polite, Andy hesitated. Lois could feel the Kent charm working its unholy magic.

"Uhh-"

"No!" Lois jumped in before Andy had a chance to say anything else. "No, we don't mind at all." She tilted her head at him, "I've monopolized way too much of your time already."

Andy looked confused, "Well, no I-"

Lois was already manoeuvring herself into the safety zone of Clark's personal space. She raised a shoulder at the other man. "If I'm lucky I'll run into you back home, maybe?" she said, managing to sound both positive and tremendously noncommittal as the swaying movement of other couples around them forced Lois and Clark to back away from Andy and into a pocket of open floor.

As soon as they were alone, Lois sighed with relief and leaned her weight into Clark for support. "Thank God. What took you so long?"

Clark's right hand went to rest on the curve of her waist while his left hand found her right, holding it close to his chest. They began moving gently in time to the music.

"You've had a pretty full card so far tonight."

She leaned away so she could look at him. Her expression was pained. "Tell me honestly. Have I danced with every unattached guy that's currently in this room?"

Clark glanced around as if to perform a check for her. "Even some of the attached ones."

She rested her forehead against his shoulder and made a noise that was weary.

They swayed side to side. "...And I think two or three you're actually related to."

She came to a stop to stare at him. "What?"

"Only by marriage," he deadpanned.

"Gross."

He began moving her again and she let herself relax. "I've totally danced myself out."

"Are you tired?"

"A little."

"Do you want to go sit down?"

There was a brief pause. "No."

For a while they were quiet, just enjoying the feeling of being in each other's arms, and the experience of being back in each other's company.

"I can't blame them."

Again, Lois leaned back to give him a puzzled look.

"The guys in this room. I didn't think I was ever going to get my chance."

Her head tilted slightly to one side as she continued to study him. "Did you know that you do this thing?"

An eyebrow twitched. "Thing?"

She answered with an affirmative hum.

"What thing?"

"Where you say something that sounds like you're unsure, when actually you're being really cocky."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Yep."

He seemed thoughtful. "In what way?"

"This down-home, butter-wouldn't-melt deal you've got going on." She narrowed her eyes, "It covers the fact you have a will made of steel."

Clark looked surprised. "I never realized." After a couple of beats, he said, "Why do you think that is?"

"Why you never realized, or why you do it in the first place?"

"Both."

"I think you do realize," she told him. "Although, I think it's not necessarily a conscious thing- I think it's more ingrained."

His eyebrows raised in mitigated offence, "You think I'm insidious?"

Lois shook her head, "No. I think you like being underestimated. It means you can fly under the radar and then; boom." She shrugged, "Before you know it, you've been Smallvilled."

His eyes were shining at her. "Oh, you mean it's like a defense mechanism?"

Her eyes were shining too, but her face crinkled, unhappy with his interpretation, "No, it's not negative." She bit her lip. "It's more like an offense mechanism," she decided, "it's-" she stumbled, beginning again, "Well, it's-"

He looked intrigued. "It's what?"

Her eyelids flickered. She backpedaled to re-choose her words. "I find it interesting."

A smug, knowing smile appeared on his lips. There was a calculated pause before he said, "So your cousin tells me you've been checking out my old yearbooks."

Lois sighed at him. Her tongue ran over the front of her teeth. "This is exactly to what I'm referring."

"What were you hoping to find in there?"

Swaying to the music, they stared each other out. "I was just curious."

He said nothing.

In an even tone, she said, "What?"

His mouth turned down at the corners, "Nothing. I'm curious that you're curious." The grin returned, "What were you curious about?"

"I told you. The kind of guy who comes from a place like this and ends up writing award-winning articles from a war zone."

A couple more beats passed. "Well?"

There was a hollow laugh, "Well, what?"

"Was your curiosity satisfied?"

Now it was Lois's chance to turn mischievous. She narrowed her eyes, breathed deeply through her nose. "Let's just say I found your earlier work particularly instructive."

Off his expression, she explained seriously, "I'm indebted, truly, to Moira and Chloe for introducing me to the treasure trove of creativity that was tenth grade."

He had the grace to look chastened once he had caught up with her.

She dropped her voice and leaned closer to tell him, "I think it takes a real man to write poetry, Clark." Her eyes flashed, "And, you know, publish it."

"You don't want to go down this road," he warned her, already sensing it was useless.

"Oh," she assured him, "but I do." She squinted as her head ticked to one side, "Points against for the pseudonym, though."

There was a clenched grimace while Lois enjoyed herself. "Shall I name some favorites? Now let me see," she drawled thoughtfully. "There was 'Waning Moon', and 'Echoes of Gravity', and 'Color Conundrum'- that was a real gem."

His shoulders rippled, "You memorized the entire page?"

"It was a double-page spread," she reminded him. "'The Tractor and the Plough'- that was a good one." She scrunched her nose to confide, "Very romantic. Very Byronesque."

"Let me know when you're done. I'll be right here."

Her eyes flicked upwards as if she was having to think hard about it, "But I think it was for 'Sunset Beams and Railroad Dreams' that you took first prize in that year's prestigious Smallville High 'Poetry Corner' competition."

"'Cause if you want to talk about prestigious first prizes," he hunched his shoulders to his neck, "we can talk about prestigious first prizes."

She 'tsked', looking beatific. "I was wondering when we were going to get round to this."

"I thought I held out pretty well."

She nodded in agreement, "I'm not going to lie to you, I have to give you credit."

"If it's any consolation, I liked your piece best."

Flatly, Lois said, "Really."

"Yes."

"Did you even read it?"

"Yes. Did you read mine?"

"Yes."

"What did you think?"

"It was okay."

They said nothing, just allowed a series of charged looks to travel back-and-forth between them. Clark glanced away and cleared his throat, "Judges seemed to think so, too."

"Boom," Lois said. "Smallvilled."

Both failing to suppress amused grins, they fell into silence.

Lois broke it. "Lana. From before. She was in the yearbooks." She found his eyes, "You two were sweethearts?"

Clark nodded, "In high school. We dated."

"Was it serious?"

A half-smile, "As serious as teenagers get."

"Young love," Lois said. Her eyes traveled over his face.

He watched her watching him. "What?"

She shook her head, nothing. "I was checking for any signs of lingering feelings." She didn't elaborate.

"And?"

A line appeared between her eyebrows, "I don't think so."

"You seem surprised."

Sagely, Lois said, "You seem like you might be the type to mope."

It was clear Clark didn't agree. "I don't mope."

"I said you seem like you might be the type."

"What kind of type is that?"

"You know," Lois said, as if it were obvious. "You're a writer. You're predisposed to be more inward-looking, more internalized, more sensitive to the human condition than your average joe."

In the face of her clichés, Clark's expression remained unconvinced. She went on, "You just strike me as the kind of guy that could sit in the dark, in some foreign corner of the globe, and nurse a dying flame."

He frowned into the middle-distance, "I know there was a compliment struggling to get out, in there, somewhere..."

Lois shrugged apologetically, "From your work, I can tell that you're a pretty intense, passionate guy."

He found her eyes and held her gaze to tell her, "I have my moments."

Her eyes twinkled at him in response, "Just no mopey ones as yet."

They continued to stare at each other until Clark suddenly looked away. "Well. There was that one time. In Paris."

"Paris?"

"Paris," he nodded, solemnly. "Oh. Years ago, now. La Gare du Nord. She was Belgian, not French," Clark recalled. "It was late September. I remember an autumn mist was hanging, delicately, in the air."

Playing along, with the appropriate intensity on her face, Lois took up the narrative; "She left you, on the station platform, alone and bereft and broken-hearted."

His eyes glazed over, "She hurt me. She hurt me bad. I cried non-stop for about a week."

"What happened?" Lois whispered.

"Ticket inspector," he said. All pretensions of melodrama fell from Clark's face. "She wouldn't validate my travel card or accept my visa. I had to pay a five hundred franc penalty and hitchhike to Brussels."

A deep chuckle rocked Lois's shoulders. When they settled themselves, she sighed. "Okay, no old flames, then." Lois's throat tightened, and she hoped Clark couldn't tell. "What about in Afghanistan?"

"Afghanistan?"

As neutrally as possible, she asked, "Have you met anyone special?"

There was a careful pause, "The job- it's not exactly conducive to a committed relationship."

"So," she said, "you're not seeing anyone?"

"No." His eyes flicked to hers, "Are you?"

"No. Not right now, no."

There was a series of small polite nods at each other.

"I'm hoping that will change, though," Clark said. "Now that I'm nearly done over there."

"You're coming back to the States?"

"I've got five months left of a three year contract to run."

"Then what?"

"I was in meetings yesterday about it. Most of the last decade, I've spent away. It'll be nice to come home."

"Are you planning on sticking around for a while?"

Softly, he said, "I think I'd like that."

"Back in Gotham?"

"Maybe," Clark swayed his head a little. "Maybe not."

"Here?"

He looked amused by the suggestion. "I don't think so."

"You should come to Metropolis," Lois told him.

He cracked a crooked grin at her, "Slum it at the Daily Planet?"

"Journalism at the sharp end." The light in hers eyes danced, "No kindly billionaire dynasty bankrolling my city."

"Just an evil one."

"Luthor's a crook," Lois said, neither in disagreement or agreement, just as a statement of fact.

"Don't you get sent to a gulag for saying stuff like that."

"Luthor doesn't scare me. He's a bully." With confidence, and a certain set to her jaw, she shrugged, "He'll get his."

"He hasn't so far."

"He'll slip up. Sooner or later. Men like that always do."

"I met Lex Luthor once," Clark mused. "A benefit at Wayne Manor. What an asshole."

"See?" Lois beamed. "You'd fit right in." Her smile became more teasing. "I could show you the sights; Metro Square, Liberty, the top of the Emperor Building." She lifted an eyebrow, "You, me, and Andy."

Clark looked over to where they had met on the dancefloor. "Andy?"

"You know him?"

"He was in my Chem class."

Lois nodded. "He's in Metropolis now. He mentioned that several times." Her eyes crinkled at the edges, "I think he was angling for a date."

Wearing an expression of concern, Clark moved in an inch closer, "Well. I wouldn't want to step on any toes."

She moved in too. "To be completely honest with you," she frowned, "he's not really what I'm looking for in a man."

"No?"

"No."

"What are you looking for?"

The way he was looking at her, her heart was racing. "Smart, funny, and sexy- same as everybody else."

He seemed about to reply to that when he looked down in surprise, "Oh." Clark removed his hand from her waist, "I think you're vibrating."

It took Lois a moment to understand he was being literal, "My phone! Sorry." Out of her jeans pocket she pulled out her cell and read the I.D. "I better take this."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "I'll be here."

...

Lois threaded through the dancefloor in the direction of the back porch. Spying her, Lucy headed her off before she left the room. Her sister was carrying a tray loaded with little serving bowls of home-made ice cream, and she wanted to know if Lois had seen the kids.

"Not since they cut and ran and left me hand-jiving to myself," Lois called over her shoulder, showing Lucy her flashing cell to demonstrate she couldn't stop to chat.

Outside, where it was quiet, she put the phone to her ear, "Hey, Jimmy, what's up?"

"Chief thought you might like to know- you weren't the only big name no-show tonight." The excitement in Jimmy's voice was unmistakable. "Get this, Clark Kent's not here, either."

"I know. He's here." Lois touched her lips together, "With me."

His drum-roll moment hijacked, Jimmy audibly deflated. "What?"

"He's here with me, in Kansas," Lois explained. "At my aunt's birthday party. Our families are friends, it turns out."

There was a pause. "You're kidding."

"No."

"You and Clark Kent are in Kansas? Together? At a party?"

Lois smiled, "Seems that way."

"Clark Kent- from the Gazette?"

"The one and the same."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

There was another, shorter pause. And then a worried, "Are you okay?"

Frowning, Lois stretched the word over two syllables, "Ye-ah?"

"Have you talked to him?"

"Clark? Yeah."

Jimmy clarified, "No, I mean like in a one-on-one situation?"

Wondering what he was getting at, she assured him, "Yes."

"Does he know who you are?"

Her frown deepened, her voice was more impatient, "Yes."

"And you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Jimmy."

"I mean you haven't punched him across the face or anything?"

She rolled her eyes. "So far, I've managed to keep things civil."

Jimmy's concern quickly dissolved into hero worship, "That's so cool! What's he like?"

"He's..." Lois's toe rubbed into the floorboards beneath her, "He's an impressive man."

"Is he wearing his medal?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"His medal for gallantry- from Afghanistan."

Lois stopped what she was doing. "Yes, Jimmy, pinned right there on his lapel. He wears it all the time. Along with a button that says 'I heart GC', and his twenty yard swim badge from 1985."

Another pause. "Miss Lane?"

"Yes, Jimmy?"

"You're being sarcastic."

She nodded and confirmed, "Yes, Jimmy."

"I can't wait to tell the Chief! This is gonna crack him up."

Lois swallowed. "Hey, Jim? Do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Back when the shortlist was announced, and that Clark had won," Lois turned to make sure she was still alone, "Perry mentioned something that I was dismissive about and," she chewed on her bottom lip, "just tell him I've been thinking about it, and I was wrong, and I think his instincts were correct, okay?"

"Okay." Jimmy said simply.

"And tell him not to get a big head about that."

"Okay."

"Thanks."

"Oops, gotta go. They're calling us through. Hope you and Mr Kent enjoy the rest of the night!"

"I'm sure we will." She smiled warmly, "You too. I'll see you Monday."

She ended the call and inhaled a deep, calming breath. The air carried the sweet scent of apple blossom and cut grass. It was getting late and the light was fading against a clear summer sky. Above her, the eaves of the porch looked pretty, the white glow of the tiny lightbulbs starting to become more distinct. Clark must have switched them on. Beyond, a vermilion red circle of sun inched towards the line of trees.

She turned to go and get Clark, but stopped when she thought she heard something. She concentrated on listening.

The evening was still. Above the sound of the bassline inside and the chirp of crickets out, there was a discernible, "Pss!"

Her head cocked in the direction of the noise- somewhere in front, in the orchard.

"Pssss!" This time longer and louder and recognizably the voice of a young child.

From behind a thicket of blackberry bush, a small, shadowy figure stepped into view. Lois squinted, "Zach?"

Her nine year old nephew was beckoning for her to follow. She skipped off the porch. As soon as she had reached the cover of the first row of trees, he grabbed her hand. "What's going on?"

Zach pulled her deeper into the orchard where the grass was longer and thicker, stopping in front of a tree trunk that was twice the width of the others. His twin, Elizabeth, was waiting for them. Instinctively, Lois didn't like the expression on her niece's face.

Elizabeth said, "Hi aunt Lois."

Before Lois could respond, a voice above them piped, "Hi aunt Lois."

Lois's eyes tracked upwards, getting wider with the full comprehension of the situation. Perched between the crux of a Y-shaped bough, at least twenty feet up, just visible amongst the uppermost branches of the tree, her youngest niece, the seven year old, gave her a careful wave.

"Phoebe! How in the world did you get up there?"

Forlornly, honestly, Phoebe replied, "I climbed."

Lois pointed to the floor, "Well, you're going to have to climb back down. Right now." Her hands went to her hips, "Your mother's looking for you."

"I tried, aunt Lois. It was easier going up."

The twins were stood side-by-side looking upset and contrite. Lois eyed them, "You're going to have to go and help her."

"We can't reach." Zach pointed out a specific branch. It was some way below Phoebe and Lois could see that the branch directly above it- a stub in the direction of Phoebe- had snapped clean off. Elizabeth held up the broken end.

Lois rolled her eyes. "I'll go get your dad."

"No!"

The twins grabbed her wrists, one on each arm. Desperately Zach implored, "You can't tell anyone. We're not supposed to be out here. Not after what happened last year."

An eyebrow arched slowly. "What happened last year?"

Elizabeth rubbed at her left elbow. She mumbled, "I fell out."

They were treated to their aunt's silent head tilt of disappointment.

A dismembered voice said, "Aunt Lois?"

They all looked up. Lois said, "Yes?"

"I'm scared."

"Sweetie, everything's going to be okay." Lois rubbed her nose with a knuckle and finally declared, "We just need a ladder, or a rope, or something." Her eyes scanned the area, "This is an old orchard, right? There's bound to be a ladder somewhere."

To her consternation, in unison, the twins shook their heads. Elizabeth said, "There's this." With her shoe she prodded an old crate that was placed longways as close up against the base of the trunk as possible. It was about two feet high at best.

Lois's hands went back to her hips as she bowed her head. She glanced back in the direction of the party. From here the barn was within shouting distance. It was obscured by the trees and the foliage a little, but it was only about fifty yards away and you could just make out the lights.

She looked up, "Alright. Hang in there, Phoebs. I'll come get you."

With undisguised surprise, Zach said, "You?"

"Yes." Lois removed her phone from her pocket, pulled off one heeled sandal and then the other. "I've climbed trees before, Zach."

The twins watched her. She told them, "When your grandfather was based in Germany, your mom and I spent summers on the outskirts of the Black Forest. It's practically in our blood. Besides," she twisted her hair back into a ponytail, "it's one of those life skills you learn as a kid that you never forget; double dutch jump rope, handstands against the wall. Making a C90 mixtape," the confidence in Lois's tone faded as she sized up the trunk before her, "...riding a bike with no hands." She blew out a little breath, hitched the knees of her jeans and reached for the first branch.

Finding a toehold, she levered herself up off the ground with ease, and not only was the spectacle of an adult shinning up the bark of a tree a delightful novelty to Zach and Elizabeth, it was also impressive.

Lois managed to make it about ten feet and a third of the way up the tree before suitable points of purchase on the trunk ran out and she had to stop and sight-judge a new route up.

In conference with the twins below, it became clear she would have to edge out onto a bough that was level enough, but then split, with the one branch angling up to just beneath Phoebe, and try again from there.

Lois heaved herself onto the bough and in a sitting-up position with her legs either side, she hauled herself along an inch at a time, trying to ignore it when branches caught and scuffed at her hair and clothes.

Making sure she was balanced first, Lois reached where the bough diverted into two and gingerly rose off her feet, ballerina-style. There were thinner branches to hold onto for support and at her full height Lois brought her feet together to turn side on and come face to face with Phoebe.

To strangled whoops from below, they grinned at each other. "Hey kiddo."

In carefully choreographed fashion Phoebe moved herself off her bough and had attached herself tightly onto Lois's back when there was a high-pitched creaking noise beneath them. Lois stayed still, "That doesn't sound good."

"Aunt Lois, watch out!"

The bough she was standing on began to bend, warping downwards. As quickly as possible, Lois soft-shoe shuffled her feet sidewards against the tilt, "Wo-ah."

With a crack the bough started to splinter and give way. A critical point was reached and gravity wrenched it off the trunk. Grabbing what she could to remain upright, Lois was able to get her tiptoes onto the thin rimmed ledge of bough that remained. It meant she ended up suspended at an angle, both arms out, as if poised at any moment to use the branches above like a trapeze, and fling herself and Phoebe out into the orchard.

She breathed, "Don't move!"

On the ground, Zach and Elizabeth edged forward to regard the fallen branch, torn and split, with its unripened apples pockmarking the grass, hardly daring to look up again.

Phoebe whimpered, burying her face between Lois's shoulder blades.

"Everything's going to be fine, just as long as we don't move."

Phoebe was done with being brave, "We're stuck!"

"We're not stuck!" Lois insisted. "We just... momentarily have to stay in one place."

Below, she could see Elizabeth and Zach's worried faces. Lois weighed up their options. "Maybe I could hang and drop," she mused quietly. "Can't be that far to the ground, right? Make sure I keep my weight forward, broken ankle- max."

At her ear there was a trembly, "W-what?"

Caught, Lois blinked, "Nothing, I'm just thinking out loud."

"We'll be trapped forever."

It took about half a second for Lois to make her decision.

"Kids, listen to me. You need to go back inside, and this is what you have to do."

...

From his vantage point at one corner of the dessert table, Clark checked his watch again and tried to not stare at the door. His heart jumped when it finally opened, but it wasn't her, it was her sister's kids coming back in. He settled back against the wall and re-picked up a bottle of beer just so he had something to do with his hands. When he looked back up, two of Lucy's children, the twins, were stood to his side.

"Hi Clark."

"Hey kids. Your mom's looking for you."

The children appeared to take a simultaneous gulp.

The boy, Zach, had an intense expression on his face. "My aunt needs you."

...

It could only have been a couple of minutes, but Zach and Elizabeth seemed to have been gone an age. The physical effort of holding both herself and Phoebe up and not moving was starting to become painful when Phoebe exclaimed, "They're coming!"

Lois dangled her head in relief. Because of the angle she was stuck at, she couldn't see, but Phoebe was able to greet their approach, "Hi Clark!"

In his familiar warm voice, Lois heard him say, "Hi Phoebe."

She scrunched her eyes. "Hi Clark."

Below, he positioned himself so they had a clear view of each other. "Hey."

She smiled weakly.

"You're up a tree, there, Lois."

"Yes. My rescue operation went a little awry."

"You know," he told her, "that breaks the number one rule of emergency assistance."

"Gee, Clark. I'll remember to remind you of that the next time you decide to jump in front of a sniper's bullet."

He cocked his head at her.

"We're stuck!"

Clark nodded at Phoebe. Calmly, he turned away, "I'll go get your-"

He was stopped mid-stride by a chorused, "No!"

Elizabeth pleaded, "You can't tell anyone."

Lois's expression was apologetic, "That's why I ended up here."

The adults shared a look. Then Clark glanced around and everyone understood, now he was complicit too. "This is an orchard. There must be a ladder somewhere."

Above him, Lois chimed, "A reasonable, yet erroneous, assumption."

The twins were shaking their heads no.

Clark gave himself a moment. Before running off, he called up, "I've got an idea. Just hang on, okay. Two more minutes."

Lois rolled her lips. To herself she muttered, "'Hang on', he says. No problem."

The next thing they heard was the distinctive chugging sound of a diesel engine coming round the side of the barn. An ancient Chevrolet pickup picked a route through the trees until Clark had lined up the cab of the truck exactly beneath Lois.

Lois's grin of relief got wider and wider as he turned off the engine and made short work of using a steel keg to step up from the bed of the truck to the roof of the cab. At this height, he was waist-level with Lois. If he stood on his toes, at full-stretch, her hips were almost within touching distance.

They exchanged pleasantries before organizing how best to pass down Phoebe. On a count of three Phoebe released her grip from Lois's back and slid round sideways. Clark took the little girl easily in his outstretched arms, "There we go."

He clambered down with her on his back and delivered her to her brother and sister.

Above them, the tree shook and they took cover against blossom petals and several small, green apples, as more branches around Lois snapped. With difficulty, Lois managed to bite back the swear words and maintain balance by hanging one foot in the air as she braced her body into a new, more awkward position. The tree settled again.

"You alright?"

"Yes. Just, you know," she breathed. "Please hurry."

Clark climbed back up to the roof of the cab. "I'm going to reach up and support you by the waist, okay?"

Lois looked uncertain. "Are you sure you can handle my weight?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"Because I'm sturdier than I look," she warned.

Although his expression could not have been more serious, she would remember later that she had seen amusement creep into his eyes, and that for some reason this had made her feel better.

"I'm pretty sturdy, myself." His hands reached out to her. "Ready?"

She nodded. "Clark?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't drop me."

"Lois?"

"Yes?"

"Just trust me."

"I do," her eyes closed. "I do."

She took a deep breath and stepped off from the trunk, letting her legs fall away into nothingness. Clark caught her at her waist and brought her tightly into his body.

"Oh." She released her grip from the tree and fell fully into him. He grabbed her and they ended up pressed against each other, Clark trying not to overbalance backwards and allow momentum to take them both off the roof of the cab.

When they were steady and safe and she had regained her breath, she came away from him enough to find his eyes.

He was smiling softly at her, arms wrapped around her middle, "I've got you."

He went first, helping her off the roof, then down to the ground where the kids were waiting to pull them into a group hug.

Phoebe was exclaiming, "My legs are tingly!"

Lois touched the little girl's head, "Mine too, sweetheart."

"Come on. I'm starving." Without ceremony, Zach handed over Lois her shoes and phone and started to lead the way back to the barn.

"We've probably missed the food," Lois heard Elizabeth scowl, but the girls followed anyway.

In order, three voices called out, "Thanks, Clark!"

"Thanks, Clark!"

"Thanks, Clark!"

Lois and Clark watched them scamper inside. She shook out her hair and turned to face him, "Thanks, Clark."

In the twilight of the orchard, they grinned at each other. She watched his expression change with interest.

"What?"

"You seem to have an unerring habit of getting yourself into some pretty sticky situations, Miss Lane." As if the band-aid on her face wasn't enough, with his finger tips he brushed away a fragment of leaf from the lock of hair behind her ear.

She could feel her heartbeat accelerating but she kept her eyes on his as she told him, "You seem to have an unerring habit of rescuing me."

The atmosphere thickened. His eyes weren't blue anymore, they were dark, and clouded, and focusing on her lips. "Good job I'm around."

"Good job," Lois agreed, barely above a whisper.

Eyes half-lidded, he was leaning in and she was too. She could feel his breath on her skin, they were so close. "I think, in the future, I should probably be around you more."

She managed a nod, "I think. I think that's a good idea."

And then their lips met and she had flung her shoes away to run her hands through his hair. He lifted her off the ground and up against the truck, their hips grinding into each other, desperately seeking relief from the exquisite pressure building there.