Alrighty, chapter three—three updates in a week, woohoo! That's probably the only time this is going to happen. I'm going home for the weekend and it's going to be insanely busy, no writing will get done.

Cali—Sorry! I didn't mean for my last A/N to sound so mean! I was just trying to nip it in the bud so far as 'is Superman really a complete and total blockhead?' goes, because that was the big complaint when that first chapter was chapter four of LAtF, and it's definitely a legitimate point. Sorry!!!

Clark ordered two tall, black coffees at The Coffee Shoppe, getting a warm reception from the owners. Apparently they hadn't seen Lois since Clark's departure. He was led back to the table he and Lois always sat at; it was a spindly-legged table with a flowery tablecloth bearing stains from many of Lois and Clark's breakfasts in past years.

He was waiting only a few minutes when Lois marched in, hailed in the same exuberant voices as he had been. She looked like she might explode at whoever approached her next, merely glaring at the owners when they shouted out their greeting. They looked pityingly over her shoulders as she walked towards Clark, smiling knowingly when Clark held up her coffee without giving so much as a greeting until she'd downed half the cup.

"Morning, Lois," he said cheerfully, browsing the menu while she glowered. "How've the last twenty minutes treated you?"

She groaned in response, finishing off her coffee and scrubbing a hand over her face—keeping her hands over her eyes and leaning her elbows against the table. Clark braced the wobbly legs with his foot as she did this, sipping his own coffee and nodding over at their waitress to bring her another coffee.

"Thank you," Lois managed when the second cup arrived. She took a moderate sip and stared directly at Clark. "You know what; I don't even want to talk about it. I just don't want to talk about it," she sighed, tugging at her hair until it was behind her ears and then crossing her arms on the table in front of her and glancing through the menu.

"Another fight with Richard?" He asked patiently, sounding for all the world like the male best friend ready to step up and listen to the outpouring of complicated emotions usually reserved for a woman.

"Yes," Lois sighed. "And, you know, it's completely ridiculous! It started when I poured him a cup of coffee. A cup of coffee, Clark! So I poured him coffee, but no, he, without a word, a 'no thanks, Lois, I'm not up for coffee today,' or anything like that, just goes to the fridge and pours himself a glass of milk instead. I mean, we were talking just before that and I said I wanted to talk to you about Superman and, just like that, he's giving me the cold shoulder. Not even taking coffee just because it's from me!" She shook her head, taking another sip of coffee as though it were the most precious liquid in the world.

"Do you think he was mad because you wanted to talk about Superman… or because you wanted to talk about Superman with me?"

"With you?"

"Instead of him."

"Y'know, I hadn't even thought of that," she said, settling back into her chair. Clark removed his foot from the spot on the floor where it had been bracing the table and leaned back comfortably in his own chair. They ordered after a moment and then sat in silence while Lois went over her most recent argument in her head again, Clark trying not to remember that either way he looked at it, he was the cause of the fight. "We're going to have to talk, just sit down and get it all out," Lois sighed after a few minutes of silence, Clark finishing his first coffee. "I can't stand this random outburst thing, and Jason… he's not faring so well for it either."

"It's best you figure this out for everybody involved," he raised an eyebrow and Lois looked up to contemplate him for a moment.

"Clark, how much do you know about Superman?"

"What?"

"Well, there are some things we talked about last night and he said you knew, well, things I hadn't even thought to ask," she shrugged, Clark waited for her to continue. "Have you really met his mother?"

"Yes," he replied, his voice as low as hers despite the lack of people anywhere near them to overhear.

"How? I mean, I'm supposed to be his press contact. Not that I really care, but…"

"Everybody needs somebody to talk to, Lois; I'm a set of ears that can provide a limited amount of feedback, you're his press contact and…" he trailed off, not sure what would be appropriate to label Lois's part in his life as Superman. She wasn't his girlfriend anymore as she was engaged to Richard, he would still call her a friend but he doubted she'd call him a friend, and 'baby-momma' was certainly not something she would appreciate.

"How much do you know about him, Clark?"

"A fair amount."

"How, er, how much do I know in comparison to what you know?" It sounded like the question pained her to ask. Clark only shrugged.

"You know things about him I don't," he lied. "I should tell you—um—I – uh—he told me about Jason," he said in a rush. He didn't want her to not talk about her feelings about having a half Kryptonian son to him, didn't want her to have to try to cover for whatever little slips Jason may have in his presence. He had enough practice coming up with them that he'd be able to cover for his son, too, if need be.

"You… you know about Jason?"

"Yes, he told me just after he got out of the hospital, right after he told his mother, I think," he shrugged. That part, at least, was partially true in a weird sort of way; he'd stood in front of his bathroom mirror repeating 'Jason Lane is my son' over and over, trying to get it to really sink in that he was a father. After a tense moment, Lois's eyes wide with panic, her thoughts spinning through scenario after scenario, she relaxed and nodded once.

"I'm glad."

"You're glad?" He'd thought she'd be furious.

"I'm glad he told you, it's a big secret to keep all by myself."

"By yourself? Doesn't Richard know?"

"Yes, and that's part of the problem," she leaned forward again, covering her eyes and leaning her elbows on the table. Clark shifted so that he could brace the table again. They sat in silence when the waitress brought their orders, Lois getting the Coffee Shoppe's famous fruit salad and wheat toast made from bread baked in the Shoppe itself, while Clark had ordered the biggest apple fritter available in all Metropolis.

"So why is Richard knowing a problem?" Clark prompted after they'd both had a few bites.

"Because," Lois groaned, then lowered her voice again. "He and I both thought that Jason was his. I didn't know for sure until he threw a piano across the room on that yacht!" She lowered her voice even further, "Clark, I can't remember ever, you know… I don't remember being in a situation with Superman where I'd wind up having his child."

Clark frowned thoughtfully, it was the first time Lois had ever spoken of this to him in either guise. She looked both terrified and sad at the same time; if he had been standing before her as Superman, though, he was sure he'd see only anger flashing in her eyes. Not for the first time, he was glad that he was her best friend outside of the primary colored suit. "He told me a bit about that," Clark said as softly as he could with Lois still hearing him. She leaned forward, eager to have an explanation. "I remember a bit of that time too, it was right before I left…" he cleared his throat. "You were miserable, Lois, when he told you all of his secrets. They're big secrets to keep—not to say the truth about Jason isn't a big secret to keep, but… You were together in those days that Zod, Ursa, and Non attempted and almost succeeded to take over the world. I'm not really sure what happened, exactly. You and I were on assignment in Niagara Falls, then you and Superman disappeared for almost a week; you showed up at the Planet a wreck, looking up at the sky every few seconds as though you expected it to fall on you. You were constantly shaking, you barely spoke. Then Superman appeared again and you got even worse, hanging out of windows to try to see if he was alright… I swear you must've chewed off every eraser on every pencil I owned in the hours that he fought Zod. Then you disappeared north again. When you came back you weren't as worried, you weren't physically shaking or anything like that. You just weren't the same. You'd sit and stare into space for long bits of time—not the positive, 'I'm in love,' staring into space but the completely distracted and possibly in danger type of distracted. Your writing suffered for it too. I know Superman was worried about you; he wanted you to be happy again, to stop worrying about him. The stress of the secrets was eating away at you," he sighed. Lois was hanging onto his every word. "You went up on the roof one afternoon just less than a month after the rogue Kryptonians were defeated. You hadn't come down after about three hours so I went to check on you and I found you sitting in that spot at the base of the wall with a dazed look on your face. You didn't remember anything about whatever happened between you and Superman, but you were back to the way you've always been," Clark's hands were shoved deep in his pockets now, hands clenched tightly. He wasn't outright lying to her, but he was twisting the truth enough so that he felt horribly guilty. "He regretted taking your memories from you almost as soon as he had done it, but you were happy again. He never said it, but I think that might've been why he left," he paused a moment. He'd never really thought about just why he had left, though he'd regretted leaving many times in the past five years. The change in his and Lois's relationship had played a part, certainly; he'd felt more alone than ever after what could be thought of as his and Lois's break-up—the discovery of the supposed remains of Krypton had only intensified that feeling and he'd gone in the hope that maybe, just maybe, there might be someone like him out there. Of course, he'd come back to find just that, but that was a whole different conversation.

"And why did you leave?" Lois asked quietly after he'd been silent for a moment. Clark looked up at her and shrugged.

"So much had happened. Superman was gone and you couldn't remember any of his secrets, leaving me alone with all of that in my head," he paused. "I know you know they're big secrets to keep. It's not something I trusted myself with in a bullpen full of curious reporters and no sign of Superman on the horizon."

"I was alone when you left," Lois said after another few minutes. It was now nearing seven o'clock, both finished with their breakfasts and working on the refills of their coffees. Clark froze, listening to her as attentively as she'd listened to him a moment ago; he'd never heard her speak of her time without him in any sort of detail. "Richard started at the Planet about a week after you left. He started asking me out that first week, but…" she shrugged. "Superman disappeared that Sunday, you know—the world was in uproar. I don't think I slept all week. Perry stuck Richard on me as a travel buddy—I was half expecting to run into you at an airport or something we went to so many places," she sighed. "I started getting morning sickness after we got back, but I just thought I'd been stressed out and traveling too much on too little sleep… Richard proposed after I told him I was pregnant, we thought it was his. I didn't accept his proposal," she cleared her throat, tucking her hair behind her ears and continuing to fidget before reminding herself that she was just talking to Clark. "He kept proposing, though, until I gave in," she smiled as at a fond memory. "I moved in with him when I was about seven months along and then, just barely a month later, Jason was born," again she was smiling. Clark fought to keep a straight face; he wasn't sure if he should be glad Lois had had support during this time, glad she had resisted said support, or even worse for leaving her than he usually did. "Y'know, I keep forgetting that you weren't around either," she sighed in frustration. "I should get you some baby pictures. Jimmy went nuts with his camera; well, more nuts than usual. Richard was in Austria on a story when I went into labor, so it was Perry and Jimmy who brought me to the hospital—"

"You were at work when it happened, weren't you?" Clark asked, resisting the urge to laugh outright at her. She glared but confirmed it.

"Yes, I was. I'd been working on the Henderson murders piece, the one we worked on right before you left, remember?" Clark nodded. "Well, the court took its time getting everything through, so I was just finishing on it, but anyway—Jimmy and Perry took me to Metropolis General, I've never seen the Chief so panicked, kept barking at me to keep breathing as he drove. Jimmy, though, oh God," she rolled her eyes, laughing. "He alternated between taking pictures every three seconds and freaking out more than I was. I'm pretty sure I destroyed half of his film, as a good amount of them were taken of me all red faced in the back seat of Perry's car, followed by me sweating in a hospital bed, followed by a few that I kept out of the flames for Jason's baby books," she grinned. "You should ask Jimmy, though, if he has any photos I don't know about, steal them, and burn them for me," Clark grinned back at her, shaking his head. "Richard didn't make it back to the States until Jason was a week old. He was premature, you know, so they were just letting us out of the hospital; Richard came right from the airport to pick us up and take us home… Jimmy and Perry were waiting for us when we got there, Jimmy taking picture after picture; Perry cried."

"You're joking."

"No, I'm dead serious… he tried to hide it, but…" she trailed off in a sigh punctuated by giggles.

"I can't believe I missed it," he sighed, his voice tainted with much more regret than should've been there. Lois didn't hear it, though, still trying to qualm her giggles.

- - -

Half an hour later, the pair of them were in the elevator on the way up to the top floor of the Daily Planet building. "Lane, Kent, where the hell have you been?" Perry asked, marching toward them from the vicinity of Lois's desk.

"Er, breakfast," Lois said, unable to keep out a slight chuckle, still thinking of his reaction to Jason's birth.

"Breakfast? Breakfast?" Perry said incredulously, sounding as though the mere idea of eating a morning meal was ludicrous. "What the hell are you doing eating when the next big story is breaking around our ears?!"

"What's the story, Chief?" Lois asked, switching into reporter mode in an instant

"A child, a boy named Harry Ricks, disappeared from his home this morning. Whoever took him was good; no alarms, didn't even catch Superman's attention, the parents are a whole other story. Divorcing, that whole thing. I want the inside scoop. Now, get outta my bullpen!" He threw a notecard with the address on it at Clark, who was sure to fumble with it before catching it.

Lois and Clark were already headed back to the elevator, briefcases both tossed on Lois's desk. Lois's heels clacked loudly at her rushed step, Clark moving silently behind her and managing not to trip on a thing while keeping up with her, not that anybody noticed.

- - -

The Ricks' lived in a nice suburban neighborhood in a large house with a large lawn. There was a minivan parked in the open garage, toys were strewn about haphazardly, the beginnings of a treehouse and the supplies to continue building were draped all over the tall maple tree in the corner of the yard. There was a garden with more plants than Lois or Clark could name and it looked as though it was usually well-tended.

The neighborhood was flooded with press and police, forcing the taxi Lois and Clark were in to drop them off almost a block from the actual house. They paid the driver, who pulled into the nearest driveway to turn around and booked it out of the neighborhood, and walked the rest of the way to the house, squeezing between media vans and police cars.

"… the second child to be abducted from his home in the past week; Mr. and Mrs. Ricks have no official comment; very little information is making it's way to us at this moment. Word has it, however, that investigators are seeking Superman, hoping his unique ability to hear over long distances will be of some use in finding little Harry Ricks," the anchorwoman gave her camera a very serious look until the cameraman gave her a wave as they stopped the live feed.

"I don't think Superman will be of much help on this," Clark sighed for Lois's ears only. She turned, raising a curious eyebrow at him, he shrugged. "I'm pretty sure he has to know what the person sounds like to be able to hone in on them."

"What they sound like?"

"Yeah, you know, like…" he tried to find the words to describe what she sounded like without sounding like he knew exactly what he was talking about. "How their breathing and heart beat and all that sound all together."

"Couldn't he just listen for voices, somebody saying the kid's name—maybe a terrified seven year old muttering, hoping that Superman would come and save him?"

"What does this particular boy sound like, though?" Clark pointed out. He wished he could explain it to her. He couldn't tell her that he would recognize her sounds anywhere, that he had, once upon a time, listened to her sleeping just to get himself to fall asleep. The strong sound of her heart beat, the steady in and out of her breath only barely touched by her smoking habit, the unique buzzing that was the electric current of the synapses in her brain generating her thoughts—a sound that was all but inaudible even to his ears—and the rustle of her clothes and hair that was exclusive to her and the way she moved. It had taken months to learn the sound of Lois, to be able to hear it anywhere, to subconsciously pick up on any subtle changes whether he would have to react to those changes or not. He could also identify his mother this way, Jimmy and Perry to a lesser extent. He had started learning Jason's sound before he'd even known he was his son; even if he was just Lois's son he wanted to be able to hear him. A few of Jason's sounds, such as the relaxed heart rate and the rapid fire of the synapses, made more sense once Clark had learned that Jason was half Kryptonian, and it only made him want to learn his son's sound more.

Yes, he could just open up his hearing to all of Metropolis and listen for the distressed whisper of a child, but there were so many noises in Metropolis to sort through. It would be almost impossible to pick out one little boy's voice, a little boy he'd never met before, from among thousands.

"We could find a home video of him or something," Lois suggested with a shrug. Clark smiled; she was trying to help. No doubt she was putting herself in Mrs. Ricks's position, imagining that Jason was the little boy missing.

"That might help," Clark admitted, though he didn't want her to get the wrong idea. A home video didn't come complete with a heart beat; the microphones on affordable cameras weren't nearly good enough to pick that sort of thing up.

The pair of them approached the house, getting stopped at the door like all the other reporters when they tried to get inside to talk to the Ricks'. "Sorry, Miss Lane, Mister Kent," the officer said, reading their names off of the Daily Planet press passes they flashed at him, "no press allowed inside the house. This is an official investigation, after all."

Lois was glaring hard at the young man, not used to being turned away. Clark put a placating hand on her shoulder and guided her toward the base of the tree in which the tree house was lodged. She didn't protest, but continued to glare at the door and the officer guarding it. Her eyes widened slightly when a tall, blonde woman with tear-streaked cheeks still in her pajamas and bathrobe pushed past the officer, looking around her yard frantically.

"Miss Lane? Was that Lois Lane?" She called, stepping out onto the front walk and looking around at the reporters and police gathered in her yard. Her husband, a tall black man also still in his pajamas, stood in the doorway next to the officer guarding the door, watching his wife with a look somewhere between pity and hope. A pair of detectives stood just behind him, only pity in their eyes. "Miss Lane!" Mrs. Ricks said, spotting Lois and hurrying in their direction. Lois took a few steps toward the hurrying blond, Clark following slightly behind.

"Yes, I'm Lois Lane," she said gently.

"Miss Lane, you have to call Superman! He has to help! My son! My son is gone," Mrs. Ricks was just barely restraining herself from taking Lois by the lapels to emphasize her point. Lois met the other woman's eyes sincerely, frowning slightly.

"Mrs. Ricks, I'm sorry, but Superman doesn't come when I call," Lois said quietly; Mrs. Ricks' face fell.

"But he has to come…"

"I'm sure he's heard what's going on, Mrs. Ricks," Clark said, trying to sound reassuring without dropping into his Superman voice.

"So why isn't he here?" Mr. Ricks asked, coming up behind his wife. He looked like he'd like to put a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder for a brief moment, but he didn't.

"You never know, with Superman," Lois said sadly. Clark was hit by a flash of guilt, but drove it away.

"Can you talk to him for us? The next time you see him, for your next interview," Mrs. Ricks pressed on hopefully. The two missing persons detectives had come out of the house and were standing behind the couple, obviously wanting to get back to their questions for their investigation, but not wanting to give up a direct link to Superman.

"Yes, of course," Lois assured them.

"Thank you," Mrs. Ricks said; Mr. Ricks looked like he agreed, but couldn't find his voice. Lois nodded earnestly.

"Do you have a video tape of him? Something with his voice on it?" She asked; both the parents and the detectives raised their eyebrows. "So Superman knows what his voice sounds like," Lois clarified. Mr. Ricks immediately spun around and rushed back into the house. Clark watched him move through the walls, going to the TV stand and opening the bottom drawer, a drawer filled with tape after tape, each labeled and dated in thick permanent marker on a white label.

"This is him reading a book report at school a few months ago," Mr. Ricks said, his voice was deep and would've been soothing if he weren't so tense. "Will it work?"

"I'll tell him where to find you if it doesn't," Lois said, taking the tape and putting it in her purse.

- - -

The kidnapping of Harry Ricks was the first kidnapping of many in the supposedly safe suburban neighborhood.

Clark watched and listened to the school tape of Harry Ricks reading his report on a science project his class had done in previous weeks. He had dark skin, intelligent brown eyes, and very short black hair; he was in khaki shorts and a blue t-shirt, shifting from foot to foot as he read his from his paper, mispronouncing a few words and skipping over the 'r's more often than not. Clark had watched the tape every night before his evening fly-over of Metropolis, learning the speech pattern, knowing he'd recognize the boy even in a crowd. He'd been watching the video every night for two weeks, but nothing had come of it; there was no sign of Harry Ricks anywhere in or around Metropolis. He'd even scanned the harbor.

Harry Ricks was six years old, would be seven in another month, just after school got out for the summer. Lois and Clark had eventually gotten their interview with the Ricks' a few days after Harry had been kidnapped; Clark suspected they were only granted the interview because Superman had visited and told the worried parents he was doing everything he could and suggested using the power of the media to get their son back. The next afternoon Lois and Clark had sat down with the Ricks' in their living room for the interview. The Ricks' were pleasant people, though they fought constantly; almost as much as Lois and Clark, though what had probably once been teasing banter had turned nasty. The pair of them had filed for divorce, only continuing to live together for their son's sake; Mr. Ricks was planning on moving into an apartment at the heart of Metropolis at the first opportunity, but he wanted his son back first.

Lois and Clark's article made the front page, below the fold, and Lois had taken the second half of the day off to be with Jason.

Three days after the interview was published, another kid, this one a ten year old girl named Leslie Parker, was kidnapped. Leslie lived with her lawyer father, Zack, three houses down from the Ricks'—her mother had died five years ago. Just as with Harry Ricks, Leslie had been taken from her bed early in the morning without her father or the neighbors noticing—no alarms went off, there were no signs of forced entry. Superman was given a video of Leslie via Lois. Leslie was in the second grade, had brown eyes and freckles, and was wearing the school uniform for Metropolis Private, the private school Jason attended. In the video she was also explaining a science project, though she wasn't reading a report, instead she was telling her audience what she was doing as she added vinegar to baking soda inside a volcano science project. The volcano fizzed admirably, the 'lava' was even reddish-orange, and Leslie smiled widely.

The third kidnapping was from a house four blocks from the Ricks and Parker homes.

Clark hadn't been able to sleep, tossing and turning with a growing sense of unease he was unable to account for. After flying over 312 Riverside Drive to assure himself Lois and Jason, and Richard as well, were alright, he'd flown to the 'Napper Neighborhood,' as it was coming to be called. Mr. and Mrs. Ricks were sleeping, Mr. Ricks on the couch (as Richard had been at the Lane-White residence), and Mr. Parker was sitting in his daughter's room on her bed, staring at the wall. Clark had had to fight the urge to fly back to Riverside Drive and see Jason again after seeing the father's distress. He had only known he was a father for a few months, but he knew if anything ever happened to Jason, whether it was his fault or not, he'd never be able to forgive himself.

His thoughts had been interrupted by a shout from a few blocks away—four to be precise.

He'd been over the Van Buren home in a second, scanning the house and those nearby for anything out of the ordinary. It was two stories, bedrooms on the top floor, general quarters on the ground floor, a huge swing set in the privacy fence surrounded back yard. The only thing out of the ordinary he saw was a boy lying on the floor in one of the bedrooms instead of in one of the beds. Another boy, younger, was the one yelling.

The parents arrived in the room a moment later, flicking the lights on; Clark noticed the window was open, the curtains blowing in the wind.

"Petey—what's wrong?" Mr. Van Buren asked tiredly, crossing the room to his sons. "Why is Greg on the floor?"

"I dunno," Petey answered, distressed. Mr. Van Buren was immediately on edge.

"Petey, where's Charlie?" Mrs. Van Buren asked.

"I dunno," Petey moaned.

Clark scanned the neighborhood, looking for Charlie, but he didn't know what the boy even looked like. There were no signs of a struggling child. He must be drugged or something, Clark decided, heaving a frustrated sigh before turning back to the Van Buren house. Mrs. Van Buren was in a right state by the time he arrived at the window ledge, Petey upset because his mother was upset, and Mr. Van Buren just seemed to be trying to calm everyone down—there were three other kids trying to get in from the other room.

"Superman!" Petey said, excited and scared at the same time. Everybody else in the room fell silent.

"There's no sign of him in the neighborhood, not a child out of place in a five mile radius," he reported solemnly, staying outside but peering in carefully at Greg, the older boy who was still unconscious on the floor. A few ribs were cracked, and his forearms and knuckles were bleeding; whatever had happened, he had tried to defend himself. "I should take him to the hospital."

"What's the matter with him? Is he going to be okay?" Mr. Van Buren asked, his voice on the edge of panic despite his collected look. Mrs. Van Buren was shaking silently.

"He should be alright—I see a few cracked ribs," Mrs. Van Buren let loose a few sobs and Clark wanted to kick himself; she certainly didn't need to hear what had happened just yet. "I'll get him to Met. General, they'll take good care of him. They took good care of me," he added the last bit with the shadow of a smile on his face, but only the youngest boy, Petey, smiled.

The Van Burens watched in silence as he bent nearly double to fit through the window, lifted Greg easily, bracing his small body against his large chest, and walked through the house and out the front door in order to avoid aggravating Greg's injuries. "You should call the police," he said quietly to Mr. Van Buren just before taking off.

- - -

"You alright?" He asked Lois a few days after the Van Buren kidnapping. They had been assigned to the story, as it was turning into a serial kidnapping story worthy of investigative reporting rivaling police work. He was sure that Lois would never have had a problem with the story if they'd been working on it before he left. As it was, neither of them could look at the pictures of the missing children without thinking of Jason and remembering that Luthor was still loose on the world. Clark had to hide his fears, even as Superman. Lois refused to talk to Superman about it. Actually, she refused to talk to Superman about anything other than the very basic interview questions and a stiff greeting when she had delivered the tapes. Clark, though, had somehow found his way back into Lois's inner circle. The inner circle that was actually made up of just him. When he'd arrived back at the Planet, he'd been disappointed upon seeing Richard not only because it meant there was no way for things to go back to the way they were, but because it meant that she probably wouldn't even need him as a friend and confidante anymore. A few weeks later, though, they were Lois & Clark again, an unstoppable reporting force to be reckoned with—he could almost forget he'd ever left some of the time, and Lois did most of the time.

"Not really," Lois sighed, leaning back against the elevator wall, closing her eyes and staying still for a moment. For the first time since his return Clark didn't even hesitate to reach out and touch her, putting a gentle, consoling hand on her shoulder. She smiled, her eyes still closed. They stood like that until the doors dinged; Lois gave his hand a pat before replacing her 'Mad-Dog' Lane mask and striding into the bullpen, leaving Clark in the elevator to chuckle before following her out.

"You alright, Lois?" Richard asked when she reached her desk. He'd been sitting on it, waiting for the Lane-Kent team to arrive back, hoping to have the talk with her they'd both been avoiding for weeks.

"I'm fine," she said, looking startled to even be asked that question. Clark was hit by just how much it meant for him to be trusted with her moment of weakness in the elevator. "How're you?"

"I've been better," Richard said, shrugging, but maintaining eye contact with her. She paused, noting what Clark had a moment before and realizing how many walls she still kept up around Richard—the man she was engaged to had never truly experienced 'Mad-Dog' Lane, but he had never truly experienced the real Lois either; he had seen happy Lois just after Jason was born, worried Lois in the months that followed Jason's birth, busy / concentrating Lois while she worked on her stories, and what qualified as mildly pissed Lois when a source didn't return her calls. He had not, however, seen the real Lois, like Clark had seen just a moment ago in the elevator, he had not seen the woman beyond the façade—he couldn't; she wouldn't let him. "We need to talk," he said and she dropped her eyes to her desk, realizing that he knew what he was missing out on.

"Well, I can't talk now," Lois sighed, half exasperated, "Clark and I just got back from interviewing the Van Buren's, we've got to type up story notes, I have to get this tape to Superman…"

"Let Clark do it, I'll take you out to lunch."

"We had lunch on our way in, while we wrote the outline," Lois said, just stating a fact, but the sad look Richard gave her made her feel guilty anyways.

"Fine, just… fine," he said, holding up his hands in defeat and turning away. He walked down the center hall of the bullpen and slammed his door. A few of the people along the way looked back down the hall until they way Lois, her lips were pursed and she was glaring at the man in the office through the glass walls, and promptly pretended not to have noticed anything in the first place.

"You're going to have to talk to him eventually," Clark said, pulling his chair over from his desk after hanging up his coat. He nearly missed the swivel chair when he sat down, catching himself haphazardly on the edge of her desk. Lois chuckled, which was what he had been aiming for. He righted himself in the chair and fixed his notes in front of him before turning to look up at her again, the look in his eyes sobered her immediately.

"I know," she sighed, hanging up her own jacket and taking a seat. "I'd just rather not do it in the middle of the bullpen, you know?"

"He suggested lunch, I believe—which neither of us has had," he pointed out, frowning mostly because it meant he wouldn't be able to slip away to get something to eat, as the assistant editor thought he'd already eaten.

"We'll get some food, don't worry, Smallville," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "What is it with men and always thinking with their stomachs?"

"I don't know, Lois," he said, shrugging. The sentence seemed cut off and hung a bit awkwardly in the air between them as they started looking over their outline and notes—Clark had been going to comment on the fact that men were most renowned for thinking with an organ slightly lower on their bodies than the stomach, but had decided that it was far too out of character.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each rereading notes and marking their combined outline in the shorthand that they had developed together before he had left—a shorthand even Jimmy had never been able to master.

"Lois," Clark said after a moment, looking down at their outline and the note she had just made.

"Hm?" She replied distractedly, adding another couple of thoughts to the outline.

"The Van Burens are the ones with all the kids, the Ricks are the ones getting a divorce—Mr. Ricks just leased the apartment at Bentley Place, remember?" He said, taking his pen and crossing out the sentence she had just finished, as it was no longer relevant. She narrowed her eyebrows at him and sighed, putting down her pen and leaning back in her chair.

"Sorry, I'm just… distracted, you know?"

"I know," he replied a little sadly, she gave him the 'don't you dare feel bad for me' look and he could only shrug in response. She took off her glasses and scrubbed a tired hand over her eyes; while she wasn't looking, Clark let himself pity her just for a moment, knowing all her pain was his fault. She caught the look; it wasn't a usual one for happy-go-lucky Clark Kent to wear- the one that made him look like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. A few months ago, when he'd first gotten back, Lois would never have guessed the reason for this look, but now she knew.

She threw him a look that she assumed was commiseration, which only really made him feel worse, before putting her glasses back on the bridge of her nose, using a single finger to push them up into their proper place, getting a tired smile from her partner, and concentrating back on her work. Clark sighed and refocused his attention as well. It was odd to see Lois using his own tactics on him—the dorky moves, like pushing his glasses up his nose, to get a smile; the moments of truth slipped between the figurative stone and mortar of the tallest, thickest defensive walls two people had ever built around themselves.

Twenty minutes later, Lois's stomach rumbled just as they were putting the finishing touches on their latest installment of kidnapping they'd been assigned so many weeks ago. "What do you say we go get that last interview?" She asked, glancing at Richard's office, where they could both clearly see him arguing with his uncle about his section's layout.

"I think now is a perfect time for that last interview," he agreed.

A half an hour later, the pair of them were at Tracy's again, a place Richard wasn't allowed and therefore wouldn't be able to spot them, as they were sitting in their usual booth, far in the back near the bar, where they could catch bits of the gossip and greet the officers when they placed their orders.

Just as they were finishing lunch, Lois's cell phone rang. Not an unusual thing. However, her reaction wasn't the standard 'you interrupted my lunch, prepare to face the consequences.' In fact, she listened intently to the person on the other end, whom Clark could not hear despite his abilities because of the cell phone's volume settings, threw enough cash to cover both their meals, grabbed Clark by the wrist, and ran out of the diner while still listening to the distressed person on the other end.

"Lois, where're we going?" Clark asked, waving apologetically at Tracy as he was dragged out of the diner and only getting an understanding chuckle and a shake of the head. "Lois?"

Lois didn't hear him, her ear pressed to her phone, her hand that wasn't holding his waving around in front of her, trying to hail a cab. After a moment, Clark rolled his eyes and let off a high-pitched whistle that earned him an appreciative look when the cab about to pass them screeched to a halt.

"Where to?" The cabbie asked, looking at Clark, but Clark could only shrug.

"Metropolis Private," Lois said distractedly, letting go of Clark's wrist to shove her finger in her ear to better hear the person on the phone.

"That school on the east side?" The cabbie asked, this time shifting his eyes back to Clark only after Lois was unresponsive.

"Yes, that's the one," Clark said, though his mind was miles away at Jason's school, his ears tuned in that direction. There was an enormously distracting amount of noise between the street outside Tracy's Diner, and the upper-end east side of Metropolis where Metropolis Private, Jason's school, was located.

Lois was on the phone with the headmistress of the school, who was calling on Jason's teacher's behalf. Jason had run in from recess in great distress, but he wouldn't speak a word. He had gone straight to the book shelf and crawled behind it, where his teacher, Mrs. Patrick, couldn't reach him. He'd been crying so hard that he'd nearly had an asthma attack, which had frightened Mrs. Patrick enough to call the headmistress. The headmistress had immediately called Lois, hence the rush out of the diner.

Clark focused on his son, cowering behind the bookcase, his knees pulled up to his chest with his forehead resting on his knees. His breathing was quick, just barely under control, his muscles taught; Clark knew that if the boy wanted, at that moment, he could've easily lifted the full bookcase he was hiding under in a spurt of super-strength that had become characteristic of his developing Kryptonian side since the incident on Luthor's yacht. Jason seemed to be aware of it too, and was unnerved. "Daddy, I need you," he was whispering over and over again, so low that it was clear just which daddy he was referring to. Clark thanked his lucky stars he and Lois had been out when she got the call—if they'd been in the bullpen she either would've taken Richard with her, or nobody at all.

They pulled into the drive what seemed like an eternity later. Jason was still under the bookcase, not any calmer. Lois overpaid the driver and let Clark help her out of the cab and towards the school. Lois kept his hand in hers as she booked it up the stairs and into the school, her purse swinging from her elbow.

"Okay, I'm here, I just walked in the front door—I'm headed to his classroom now," she said, snapping her phone shut. She exchanged a nervous look with Clark, adjust her grip on his so that she held his hand instead of dragging him along by his wrist. It would've made Clark uncomfortable if he hadn't been more worried about Jason.

"Mrs. Patrick?" Lois asked when she walked into the classroom, dropping Clark's hand as she headed toward the bookcase under which Jason had sought sanctuary.

"Miss Lane, hi," Mrs. Patrick sighed. She had all the other kids in the class coloring at the tables across the classroom, away from Jason's hiding spot. The teacher raised an eyebrow at Clark, who just shrugged.

"This is my friend, Clark," Lois said as dismissively as she usually did, crouching down near the bookcase and calling for her son.

"Clark? Clark Kent?" Mrs. Patrick asked, making Clark shift uncomfortably as he nodded in response. "It's so good to meet you, Mr. Kent," she said, giving him a smile usually reserved for when a person first encountered their caped hero. "I'm so glad you're back, my husband and I missed your work at the Planet while you were away—you and Miss Lane make a good team," she beamed.

"Er, thank you, Mrs. Patrick," he said a little awkwardly, but couldn't help but smile.

"Jason, can you come out now, please?" Lois asked, her voice soft, her head tilted down at an odd angle so that she could see into Jason's hiding spot.

"No!" Jason cried. Clark's heart went out to his son, wondering what had put him in such a state.

"Jason, c'mon now," Lois sighed.

"He's been like that for almost a half an hour," Mrs. Patrick said aside to Clark, who just nodded.

"Jason," Lois looked pleadingly up at Clark, begging him to try something. He looked cluelessly at her and shrugged. She stood up to prod him toward the bookcase. "C'mon, if you taught him how to tie his shoes over the phone, you can get him out from under the bookcase," she pointed out. Clark ran a hand through his hair and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the case while Lois chewed on her thumb nail behind him.

"Hey, uh, Jason," he said, x-raying through the bookcase to find that his son was looking directly at him despite the wood and books between them. He blinked, Jason blinked too. "You okay, buddy?"

"No," the reply was small, his voice quavering, but certain in his words.

"What happened? Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, quietly enough so that Jason would feel like he was the only one that could hear.

"No," Jason said again, but he was shifting around, trying to get out from under the bookcase; Clark could see that his muscles were still tense, ready to react to whatever had given him such a fright.

"Are you sure?"

"No."

Clark shifted a few toys away from the base of the bookcase so Jason could climb out easier. To his surprise, the boy climbed right onto his lap, wrapped his arms around his neck, and buried his face in his lapel. Clark instinctively wrapped his arms around his son in return, turning to raise an eyebrow at Lois, who just looked relieved that he was out from under the bookcase.

"Will you tell me what happened?" Clark asked, this time quietly enough that Jason was the only one to hear it.

"No," Jason repeated.

"I can't help you if you won't talk about it," Clark told him.

"It was the bad man from the boat, the bald one," Jason whispered in his ear. "He was just on the other side of the fence, I saw him—he smiled at me."

"Its okay, Jason, you're safe now," Clark whispered back. Lois hadn't heard, but the dark, concerned look on her partner's face was enough to make her worry. Mrs. Patrick was looking at the three of them as though she were looking into the lives of her most favorite celebrities. Clark found it completely disarming, as he wasn't used to being noticed for being the man in Lois Lane's shadow.

"I called for you and you didn't come," Jason admitted, still tucked down in Clark's chest, arms wrapped around him holding tight.

"I'm here now, Jason."

"Why do my arms feel funny?" Jason asked after another moment, his arms flexing slightly where they were—his hands didn't meet on the other side of Clark's wide shoulders, but he still had a good grip on him.

"You get stronger when you get scared, I think."

"I feel too strong," Jason whimpered, his voice was even softer now than it had been when he'd first crawled into Clark's lap.

"Just hold onto me as tightly as you need too—you can't hurt me," Clark said, a smirk in his voice, though his face was still shadowed with unpleasant thoughts, his ears searching for the sound of Lex Luthor but not finding anything. He was reminded of his failures in the past weeks to find any trace of the sound of the missing children and his frown deepened.

Jason squeezed his arms around his father. He was hugging him so hard that an average man's ribs would crack and his internal organs squish into little lumpy mounds of tissue, but it only wrinkled Clark's jacket a little more than normal. Lois raised an eyebrow, wondering why her son was gripping her friend so hard and worrying about the strength behind the hug. Finally, Jason sat back.

"Better?" Clark asked. Jason just nodded, still not willing to get off his father's lap.

"Are you okay, munchkin? What happened?" Lois asked, crouching next to them.

"I'm okay," Jason said, offering a weak smile.

"What happened, honey?" Lois reiterated and Jason ducked his head back into Clark's chest with an audible thunk.

"I don't want to talk about it," Jason informed them, his voice muffled by Clark's coat.

"Okay, that's okay," Clark said, shifting so that he could hold onto Jason as he stood up. Jason wrapped his arms around Clark's back again, still hiding his face. Lois continued to look worried; Clark wasn't looking forward to her reaction when she found out who had scared their son so badly.

"Can we take him home?" Lois asked, rubbing her son's back, looking pleadingly at Mrs. Patrick.

"Yes, of course," Mrs. Patrick said, nodding. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay, Jason?"

"No!" Jason said without lifting his head. Mrs. Patrick didn't frown, but she looked more concerned than she already was. Lois frowned, and Clark resumed rubbing Jason's back comfortingly.

"Enjoy the rest of the school day, Mrs. Patrick," Clark said awkwardly, shifting Jason so that his legs wouldn't bang around his own as he walked; he was practiced at carrying wounded victims, children, but he usually carried them across his chest, not parallel to himself. Well, he flew with Lois parallel to himself, but she was taller than Jason, could stand on his feet.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Lois said to the teacher before hurrying after her partner. Mrs. Patrick looked like she was going to say something, but was then distracted by the rest of her class as they mobbed around her, telling her that, according to the learning-friendly clock by the play-doh, it was time for snack.

"No, I want Uncle Clark," Jason insisted when Lois tried to persuade him out of Clark's arms to go down the steps.

"Its fine, Lois," Clark said, getting a look from his partner. He gave a shrug and a bewildered look, getting one in return.

It took several hours and a bowl of frozen yogurt to get Jason to calm down and talk to his mother. By the time she'd had the whole story, she was set on going back to the school yard and turning over every stone looking for Lex Luthor. Clark just shook his head.

"I'm sure Superman's on it Lois, I mean," he shrugged in Jason's direction.

"I guess," Lois said, obviously not willing to leave her son, but wanting to check in with the Man of Steel as soon as possible. As it was, Clark had scanned the area as they left the school, not finding anything that would point to Luthor's presence.

"It could've just been a bald man Jason saw," Clark admitted an hour later, Jason having gone into his room to lie down for a bit, which was code for take a nap in the language stubborn six year olds spoke.

"I don't think so, Clark. Jason would know who Luthor is, he'd recognize him. And he'd know better than to say that he saw him if he hadn't."

"I'm sure he saw Luthor, or at least thought he did," Clark sighed, guiding her out to the living room she shared with Richard and sitting her down on the couch. "I don't doubt that."

"Damn right."

"I'm just saying it's possible it wasn't really Luthor, just a guy who looks like him."

"It was the bad bald man from the boat," Jason insisted from the doorway, glaring at his dad from across the room.

"I believe you, baby," Lois said, sending a glare of her own across at Clark. "You didn't see anybody else, did you? He was alone?"

"Yes," Jason swallowed, glancing at Clark. The look made Clark's heart turn to mush, the boy wanted so badly for his father and hero to believe him. "He was wearing a long coat like last time..."