Note From the Writer: Hey guys, thank you so much to everyone for reviewing! I've tried to take on board some of the feedback, especially about adding in some more description about Jamie's environment. I guess I was probably lacking in it a bit, because that's the part that as a reader I usually skim over. BUT, having said that, you guys are the ones reading this, and not me. So I hope that you continue to enjoy the story as much as I enjoy reading your comments. I fangirl over them, not gonna lie. I also know that some of the things that Jamie and Superman need to talk about, actually didn't happen in this chapter. I was originally going to have them really hash things out, like why she was almost kidnapped etc, but as I was writing, I realized that it just didn't feel quite right. Plus, it give away some elements of the plot that I don't want to divulge just yet.

I woke up with a start, my memory and my dreams blurring into an unpleasant muddle of explosions, bloodied hands, falling, and spandex. I groaned, and attempted to stretch. My whole body ached. I felt how I imagined a dog's chew toy would, worn out, weak and limp in all the wrong places, like I'd been tossed around one too many times. Which, when my mind began to clear, I realized I pretty much had. My head throbbed from where it had hit the metal grating, my skin stung from the blisters, and my arms ached from carrying a body twice my size, and probably three times my weight. I was lucky I hadn't sustained a concussion last night, it had probably been dangerous of me just to go to bed without getting it seen to first.

I sat up then with a start, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and looking around the room. I pushed some of my messy hair out of my face, and stared down bleakley at the clothes I was still wearing. My trenchcoat had that funny chemical smell from the drug labs still on it, and my leotard had twisted uncomfortably as I slept. Sniffing again, I realized the lounge smelt pleasantly of coffee and something sweet.

Gritting my teeth, I pulled myself stiffly off the sofa-bed, wondering what Harry had cooked for breakfast. I sighed, I had no idea how I was going to tell Belinda about Superman. Or if I'd be better of not mentioning the fact that he'd stayed in our apartment overnight at all. I was gunning for the last option, the more I thought about it all.

I trudged into the kitchen, and gave a 'I-can't-believe-last-night-really-happened' smile to Harry. His eyes bulged a little when he saw the state I was still in: morning hair and bad breath to top of my homeless look from last night. His jaw working tenfold the speed it normally would, so that he could comment on my appearance, and finish his mouthful of pancakes he was eating. Harry had this rule that he never talked with his mouthful, it was something to do with etiquette apparently, but being honest, I never really listened to his lengthy speeches about the "do and don't" of polite society.

I picked up one of the plates that was neatly set out on the table, thinking that I'd go and get myself some of the delicious looking, golden coloured pancakes from the stack newly cooked in the kitchen. I rounded the corner from our dining room into our kitchen, and was greeted with a cheery, amused "Good-morning." by Superman.

He stood, still in his superhero bodysuit, wearing Harry's plain white apron over the top, holding a spatula in one hand and a plate of stacked, wonderful smelling pancakes in the other. Three seconds passed as I weighed up my options, and decided that there was no point backing out of the kitchen now, no one could unsee the horror of what I looked like in the mornings.

I drifted forwards, holding eye contact, and said "Good-morning." I stretched out my hand, and smoothly took two pancakes off the pile and deposited them onto my plate. Superman beamed, as if pleased by my actions.

Conversationally he said, "I thought you might be hungry, I'll just finish up the last of the batter and join you in the dining room. I haven't had any myself yet." Unlike me, he was obviously too well mannered to help himself to the food while he was still cooking.

I hummed an acknowledgment, and walked out of the kitchen, still a little stunned. I sat down at the table, and asked Harry, "Could you pass the maple syrup please?" as I began to butter my breakfast. Harry looked up as he passed me the delicious liquid sugar, and I said placidly, "You could have warned me, about you know who." Referring to Superman in our kitchen.

Harry shrugged, and made an apologetic face, explaining, "My mouth was full."

I blinked twice at him in disbelief, and then slowly shook my head, dismissing the subject, and cut a generous bite size. Harry finished the last of his drink, and stood up slowly, as if mentally preparing himself to go back into the kitchen, and see Superman cooking us breakfast. I overheard a few pleasantries exchanged between Superman and my cousin, and then Harry came back with a glass of water and the last of the painkillers I'd been taking for my ribs.

Adjusting the placemats at the table, he said "You should probably go to the doctors today to get your ribs and whatever other injuries you've got checked out. The last thing you want right now is to have done more damage to yourself, just when you were healing."

I nodded and smiled gratefully. Harry could really be sweet sometimes. He'd married young, and after his first wife died of cancer, I think he liked living with us, because it meant he still had someone to look after.

"Anyways, I'm going to be late to work if I don't get going." He acknowledged, checking his watch, and moving over to pick up his briefcase. He glanced back over to me, and nervously said, "I'll see you later. Give my farewell to Superman." His eyes lingering on the kitchen, his thoughts no doubt on the Superhero cooking in there. With that he moved briskly out of the apartment, relieved at last to be able to get back uninterrupted into his daily routine.

I finished eating the first pancake, and began the second when Superman finished cooking, holding the completed stack of food and a jug of brewed coffee. I looked up and smiled, clearing a space on the table for him to put them down. He stood still next to the table for a second, our gazes meeting, and I offered, "Would you like a seat?" Nudging one out with my foot.

Superman cleared his throat, and said thanks. "I hope you don't mind me helping myself to your pantry supplies."

I shook my head, "No not at all. These are delicious. Thank you." There was a moment of awkward silence, and Superman leant forward and took a pancake and drizzled it with syrup. "I didn't know you could cook." I stated, as some kind of ice-breaker.

He looked up and beamed, "My mother taught me. I quite enjoy cooking actually."

I took a moment to surreptitiously look Superman over. I'd been half-worried that whatever the Kryptonite had done to him last night, it might have a permanent effect. His bloodied hands and pale face had featured heavily in my nightmares, so I was relieved to see that he at least looked like his normal self. And by that I meant, he was back to like his 'blue-eyed, women-wooing' self.

I nodded, poured myself a mug of coffee, and laughed, "I'm really not the best cook. My idea of cooking is usually a salad sandwich, or tinned soup."

Superman smiled at me goodnaturedly. "Harry was telling me." He said simply.

My eyebrows shot up, and intrigued I challenged, "Oh, was he?"

Hiding a laugh, and eating incredibly fast, he moved onto his third pancake and said, "Yes, he did mention something about not being used to sharing the kitchen with anyone. I take it he's a little overprotective, after the stove fire happened."

I laughed and winced, "Yeah, but in my defense, it's hard to tell when black-beans are burning, because they're already black."

Superman chuckled, and shook his head in amazement. I looked down at my cup of coffee, and smiled appreciating the warm, gravelly tones of his voice. Thoughtfully, I commented, "You make a nice cup of coffee. I don't usually like hot drinks other people make for me, I'm really picky."

I took another sip of the brew, dark, with a touch of caramel flavouring, not too sweet, but just enough to taste the flavour.

"I uh, lucky guess." He said, shrugging, his cheeks dimpling from a secret smile. He cleared his throat, and began, "Considering everything that's happened, I think that there is some important things we need to get cleared up. Do you remember when I said that…."

I cut him off, and promptly said, with an understanding expression, "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Superman blinked in surprise, and tilted his head. "I won't tell anyone that you're allergic to Kryptonite." I offered reassuringly.

Superman looked a little confused for a second, and said "Oh, well that is a relief, and I can't say I've ever had anyone describe it that way, but I was going to say..."

I rushed to finish his sentence, wanting to make it as easy for him as possible. "It's okay. I completely understand, I won't tell any of the reporters that you stayed here last night. After the whole cardigan fiasco, and the tram ride thing, or the hospital situation, I'm getting pretty good at telling the reporters something, without telling them anything at all. If you get what I mean." Which was true, I'd had to put up with annoying reporters sticking microphones into my face after each incident, and I'd quickly learnt how to evade their ridiculous questions.

Superman still looked confused, and said, "Well thank you. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. But I don't know that you do understand. I was going to clarify what I said a few months ago at the hospital."

I frowned, thinking back to that night, and said seriously, "You mean when you told me you wanted to eat baboons, and that you were going to fly back to Carrotland? Because up until now, I thought I'd made up all that stuff in my head. That you hadn't said anything to me at all, and it was just the medication."

Superman looked dumbfounded. "No, no you didn't imagine our conversation. I was really there."

I stared at him in amazement, "Oh." Shaking my head in disbelief. "You probably should clarify what you said then, because I didn't understand a word of it, and I really don't see what milkshakes have to do with anything, well, anything I can think of."

Superman leant back in his chair, and laughed. It was deep, and a little infectious in its mirth. Trying to frown through my smile, I asked, "What? What did I say?" Honestly wondering what had made him laugh.

Fixing his gaze on me, he was able to compose himself enough to say, "Somehow you always manage to make me laugh Jamie." Something about the way he said it, reminded me of the way that old friends talked to each other. Maybe it was in the way he said it between fits of laughter, the way one of his arms rested against the back of the wooden chair casually, or his tone of voice, somehow both surprised and holding fondness at the same time.

I glanced down shyly, moving the last piece of my pancake around in my maple syrup covered plate. Having lost track of my thoughts, my mind replaying the sound of his laugh, I cleared my throat and asked, "So, uhm, what did you need to clarify?"

Superman tilted his head thoughtfully to the side, his steady gaze resting on my face, seeming to be weighing up his options. He leaned forward, his forearms coming to rest on the table top, as he began, "This morning when I woke up in your room, I couldn't help but notice that you seem to have a lot of interest in ancient civilisations." A clear change of conversation topic.

I pushed my plate away from me, and pulled my feet up onto the chair, so that I was hugging my knees to my chest; curious how he knew that about me.

"I took the liberty of reading some of the sticky notes and maps up on your wall," Superman added, as an afterthought. "I couldn't quite understand all of them, but from what I could gather, you think you've found a lost civizilation. I was wondering if you could explain to me where exactly you think they might be." His tone of voice somehow reminding me of a detective, or news reporter.

I blinked in surprised. Unable to hide my delight, I nodded eagerly, "Yeah, yeah of course. Although it's a city, not a civilization. Which you know, is actually a pretty big difference. As exciting as it would be to find a new civilization, or in this case re-discover an old civilization, but that isn't going to happen, only because the city was sunk into the ocean. Or at least that's what I think happened." I babbled, probably not making all that much sense.

I bit my lip, then offered, "It might be easier if I showed you, rather than tried to explain it all." Trying not to show how excited I was that someone was taking interest in my work.

Superman nodded, "I'd like that." He said simply.

I stood up, trying to think where to start my explanation. "Uhm, follow me."

As Superman stood up from his chair, there was a loud high pitched squeaking noise, and my eyes widened in surprise. Superman's head snapped up, and he was quick to say "That was my suite. On the chair. Not, not, a bodily function." I giggled, unable to help myself from finding the noise his suite had made as it moved across the polished wooden chair as funny, especially considering it was Superman. Yeah I know, I laugh at fart-jokes, not exactly mature of me.

I graciously nodded, accepting his explanation, and moved out of the kitchen, through the lounge and into my room. The mid morning light filtered in through my window, illuminating my cream coloured carpet littered by untidy stacks of books and papers, the light blue curtains, my matching wooden bedframe, desk and drawers. I noted wistfully that the drawers still had a dent, but pushed the thought out of my mind, excitedly going to the main wall opposite my bed; an artful mottled gold colour. Not that there was much left of the wall to see. It was covered from ceiling to floor with a mind-map design of red string attaching large maps of Italy, the surround sea and countryside. Brightly coloured sticky notes, photocopied pages from various old texts I'd found were stuck on the maps, or hanging from the string with small wooden clips.

At the very centre of the complex web of string and paper, was an enlarged photo of a cracked stone tablet. A carved inscription covering it's surface, which I knew from experience, had taken me over six months to decipher. "It all started with this tablet. When I was working at the Metropolis Museum, my supervising professor received a shipment of findings from a recent archaeological dig near Cape Sounion, not far from the famous temple of the Greek god Poseidon. Among the artifacts was this." I said, gesturing towards the photo.

"The tablet had an inscription on it that no one had so far been able to completely figure out. You see, even though the bulk of the text is written in Greek, there are a few symbols dispersed at odd intervals that everyone had previously assumed were for decoration, or punctuation." I touched a few with my finger, the first, a small picture of a what could have been a temple, another a very small but unmistakable trident, a few others like a man's arm, the sun, the moon and the stars.

I continued, "Even though it makes sense that these symbols are just decorative, what doesn't quite seem to fit, is that this tablet was found to date back as being older than Poseidon's temple. Now, that might not seem strange to the average historian, considering that belief in the god of the sea does pre-date the building of the temple itself. But what doesn't make sense is that the text clearly makes reference to Poseidon's domain, or his temple, or …" I said, drawing out the word, "It could even be translated as his home city."

I studied Superman's face carefully, as his eyes roved over my wall curiously. "Which at first, doesn't make all that much sense. Unless, even before the building of the temple, there was another temple, or as I think is really the case, a small city."

Superman frowned, stepping closer to one of my hand-scribbled notes on the Trident symbol, his lips moving as he read. I took another nervous breath in, unsure if Superman's lack of questions was a good or bad sign. Most people I had told about my theory had either stopped me by this point in my explanation to pepper me with questions, or laughed off my idea as a ridiculous leap of my imagination.

I moved over to the middle of my room, and tilted my head back, so that I was staring at the ceiling, which was covered in hundreds of tiny, glow-in the dark stickers, grouped by constellations. It was something I had done from childhood, the difference between now and then was that now they were positioned in their correct astronomical bearings, albeit on a miniature scale. "I couldn't get to sleep one night, and this" I waved my hand toward the ceiling, and Superman followed my line of sight to my roof, "gave me an idea."

I looked back at the wall, pointing out the moon and stars symbols. "In the greek and roman culture, there are many minor goddesses who are associated with the moon and stars, but the most repeated meaning, or vague idea behind all of them, is to do with time. The tricky thing with symbols is that they can represent any number of things, all at once, or only one aspect of their imagery." I swallowed, unable to read the expression on Superman's face.

Taking no interruption from him as a good sign, I persisted, "Time is associated with change, or, and this part has something more to do with the luna cycle, creation and destruction. I believe, considering the context of the inscription, that the change and destruction aspects of the moon's symbolism is the intended interpretation of the image."

Superman asked, "Would you mind maybe telling me how all of this has to do with the ancient city, I'm a little lost in all of the details."

Somewhat disappointed by his question, a clear request to skim over the details, I fiddled with my fingers, and nodded. "In a nutshell, I think that the symbols indicate that there was infact a small city located along the coast of the Aegean Sea. Some great force, indicated by the man's arm, was responsible for the destruction of this city, and it was lost to Poseidon's kingdom, which is of course, the sea. I think that the reason it hasn't been found, and the reason it should still be there, is primarily because whatever this great 'force' was, presumably an earthquake which caused the coast shore to fall into the sea, has hidden the city under silt, rock and debris. Effectively creating a false seabed, underneath which is the remains of a city. Much like how Pompeii was buried and preserved under ash, silt, and eventually dirt."

I wrung my hands, shifting from foot to foot nervously. Now that I had explained everything, I was worried that he might think I was some fanatic, or had hit my head a bit too hard when I'd landed on his arms after falling from the Bank. I pushed my messy hair behind my ears, and said, "You probably think I'm a bit of a weirdo, that is, if you didn't already, but…"

Superman cut me off, "No, no I don't. I think it actually makes a lot of sense." He took a step closer to me, as he did his foot knocking over a pile of books, and he glanced down, a sheepish smile dimpling his cheeks. "Sorry, I didn't me to do..."

I interjected, holding up my hand in a dismissive manner, "Don't worry about it. I do that all the time." Which was certainly the truth, I was prone to knocking or crashing into things around the house.

Superman nodded, continuing what he'd been saying a few seconds ago, "The reason it makes sense, is because you're right. That night back in the hospital, when you kept talking about Lamas trying to eat you,"

I pulled the trenchcoat I was wearing closer around me, pulling a face and mumbling, "I said that?"

Superman's smile was oddly reassuring, as if he was used to people rambling about Lamas, as he said, "Yeah you did. I tried to warn you that you needed to be careful. Because, in my line of work, it's inevitable that you develop enemies, and I had strong reason to suspect that some of them might come after you, because of everything you know. When those two thugs tried to kidnap you…"

Superman trailed off, his eyebrows coming together in confusion. Staring at my face, which had gone a strange shade of grey. I stumbled back, my hand coming out to point at his foot, as I yelled in warning, "Spider, SPIDER, ICKY SPIDER!" Throwing myself up and to the side to land on my bed, and scramble up on my desk.

Superman looked down in amazement at his foot, where the nastiest, most horrifyingly large spider I had ever seen, sat waving it's pincers; it's numerous gleaming eyes staring at me. Evidently having been disturbed from it's hiding spot when Superman had kicked over the stack of books.

My voice sounding alarmingly like Gollum's from the Lord of the Rings, as I screeched "Kill the nasty!" Bending down to pick up a stapler, and hurl the item at the Spider. The stapler spun through the air, and bounced of Superman's leg, making the kind of noise that metal makes hitting metal, and the spider jumped forward, unharmed to my absolute terror, running forwards towards the desk I was perched on. "NONONONONONONONONONONO!" I wailed, fleeing back to the safety of my bed, as the spider scuttled underneath the desk. My hands scrambling for the nearest item to hold out as a weapon, which happened to be my lampstand from my drawer top and a hairbrush. I breathed heavily, trying to figure out what my next strategic move was. I was debating risking running past the spider to leg it out of my bedroom door, or climbing to a point even higher off the ground then my bed.

Superman's strong clear voice interrupted my panicked thoughts, "Do you want me to take care of that?" he offered.

My mouth fell open, as I realized I probably looked like an absolute whimp, fleeing from a spider. That, and I had just piffed a stapler at his foot.

Relaxing my grip on my hairbrush and lampstand, but not letting go, I tried to say nonchalantly, "Yeah, I mean, that'd be cool. That is, if you wouldn't mind. I'd appreciate it." Somehow I don't think he was fooled by my I'm-not-bothered-by-the-huge-spider-hiding-underneath-my drawers act.

Smiling, which seemed to be his default setting when he was around me, Superman walked over to my drawers, and picked up a spare sheet of paper and mug. He shuffled the items into one hand, and with the other gripped my desk, and lifted it high off the floor, like it was a paper weight. The disgustingly enormous spider scuttled forward, and ran between Superman's legs, dodging the hairbrush I threw at it with a warrior like battle cry.

Superman moved with inhuman speed, gently placing my desk back down, and swiftly covering the spider with the mug. Or at least, that's what I thought he did, because he actually moved too fast for me to see him do all that. He stood now, the spider trapped between the mug and paper, holding it out to me as if it were a trophy to be proud of. I flattened myself back against the wall, hissing "I don't want it. Get rid of it!"

Superman tilted his head to the side, and stated, "Someone's pulling key's out of their bag to open your front door."

"What?" I asked dumbly, confused how he knew that and caught off guard by the sudden change of topic.

"Now they're opening the door." He narrated, as sure enough, now even I could hear the door burst open, as Belinda kicked it wide with her foot, and it bounced back against the door stopper, as she no doubt balanced an armful of shopping bags, having finished work and evidently gone shopping.

I leapt down from my bed, the spider in his hands momentarily forgotten, "You can't be here. She dosen't know about you. I forgot to tell her!" I blurted out, and then in a rush asked, "Hey, are you feeling better. I can't believe I didn't think to ask before. But have you recovered from the green stuff enough to fly?"

Superman glanced towards my bedroom door, and then back at me, as I lead him towards my bedroom window, "Yes." He answered suspiciously.

"Great." I said, "Then you've got to go." And pushed my curtain aside, opening up my window so that a fresh breeze ruffled my hair.

I heard Belinda's distinct voice from the kitchen then, as she hollard, "I'm home. You around Jamie?"

Whispering I said, "I'm sorry about this, but you've got to go. It won't be good for either of us if she sees you in here. And uhm, you can take that with you." I gestured nervously to the spider hidden underneath the mug.

Goodnaturedly, Superman moved himself over to my window, and pulled himself up, so that half his body was hanging out the window, and his head and shoulders were still inside. "I'll see you round Jamie."

I stood back, and gave him the thumbs up, as he ducked his head out the window, and disappeared outside. I rushed forwards, sticking my head outside the window to watch him fly away, Harry's apron flapping in the wind, and my mug and the spider held tightly in front of him.

I let out a breath of relief, and then sucked it back in, as Belinda, standing in my room asked, "What are you doing Jamie?" I sprung away from the window, wondering how long she'd been there.

"Watching a spider fly. I mean, watching outside, thinking how glad I am that spiders can't fly." I tried to joke, putting my hands on my hips casually.

Belinda nodded, and hummed, moving over to my window to look outside at the clear blue sky, apparently seeing no sign of content that I was just being my usual, abnormal self, she said, "Well you're probably right. I imagine that if spiders could fly you'd never leave the house for fear of them."

"I would too leave the house." I said defensively, adding, "I'm not that scared of them."

Belinda straightened, and gave me a 'get-real' look, snorting in disbelief. Changing the subject, "C'mon, while I cook us something to eat, you and I can talk about last night. Because we are going to talk about it, Jamie." She said firmly, knowing me well enough to predict that I would have prefered to leave the subject entirely alone.

She patted my shoulder, and left my room to head into the kitchen. I sighed, gave one last forlorn look out my window. Wishing I'd asked Superman to take me with him, and closed my window, pulling the curtains shut.