A/N: Hi everyone. Just to give you the long view of where we're up to now- I've structured out the remaining plot points of this story and by my reckoning there will be another longish chapter (...probably), and then a mittel-length chapter (...possibly), and then a couple of short set-piecey things- more like chapterettes ...Although don't hold me to this. And then we'll be done! Hooray!

As for this latest installment, as ever, I hope you enjoy.


Six months later

"So the Pope goes back to the Vatican, and he says to the Cardinals; 'Well guys, there's good news and bad news.'" The engineer paused on a rung so he could take a breath and finish the joke. A narrow V of yellow light from his hard hat picked out the harness rope as it disappeared into the abyss above. "The good news is that we are to receive one hundred million dollars. The bad news is that we've lost the ReadiBread account.'"

He resumed his progress down the ladder. Over his two-way, there was low, throaty, laughter. Mac repeated, "ReadiBread."

Smiling, the engineer shrugged. "It was in an email."

The metallic clang-clang of his boots reverberated around the shaft until he reached the end of the ladder and stepped carefully onto the roof of an elevator car. He tugged the harness. "Okay, I'm here."

Over the radio Mac failed to stifle a yawn. "See anything?"

From a side pocket he took another flashlight and directed it at the center structure of the elevator. "Yeah. Something's caught up in the sheave, alright."

"Man, I hate it when you say that."

Squinting, the engineer knelt closer to get a better look at whatever it was and poked it around to test its resistance.

"No," he said. "It's a piece of rag or cloth or something."

--

Other than the Audi, the street was deserted. They were parked in their customary spot, down an alleyway away from the lights of the sidewalk, but with an unobscured view of the LexCorp building. There was no moon, and it was too cold to snow. Inside the car, Lois sat at the steering wheel looking out. A knitted hat was pulled tight over her head so that ringlets of hair spilled out and bunched around her shoulders, a scarf covered her chin and mouth. Worn in combination they created a small rectangle of face comprising her eyes, her cheeks and the tip of her nose. It was the only area of her body currently exposed to the air. The same thing could not be said of Jimmy. He was kneeling facing the wrong way in the passenger seat, reaching to retrieve a dropped keychain from the back of the car. Directly level with Lois's eyeline was a widening width of pale skin between the bottom hem of Jimmy's puffer jacket and the top elastic banding of his underpants- which, Lois couldn't help but note at such close proximity, were Calvin Kleins.

She untucked her chin from the scarf and without glancing that way addressed the back pockets of his jeans. "Can you see it?"

There was the sound of straining- the telltale grunting and noises of effort produced when your head is unnaturally lower than the rest of your body. Jimmy's muffled voice came back, "No. I think it must've fallen directly underneath the seat. Damn."

Beside Lois's face, Jimmy's butt wiggled around a bit more. "Wait a second."

"Got it?"

There was more ass wriggling. "No-" Jimmy flipped back into the seat, flushed but grinning. He sang, "But look what I found." Like a stage magician he flourished a very thin, tabloid-sized cardboard box. It was the advent calendar.

"Ooo!" Lois clapped her mittens together with the kind of unironic and disproportional joy easily mustered at times of prolonged sensory deprivation. "Where was it?"

"Underneath a pizza box."

"How many?"

Jimmy angled the calendar in order to catch some light and perform a quick inventory. "Four days."

They removed their gloves. Jimmy picked open two perforated doorways and popped out the little slabs of chocolate into Lois's cupped hands. She inspected them.

"A holly sprig and a snowman." There was a deep cracking sound. "Mmmm; chocoliciously satisfying."

Jimmy pressed out another two days to bring the calendar back up to date. Around a mouthful of candy, Lois asked Jimmy what he got. Balancing them in the middle of his palm, Jimmy read the tiny relief images like runes, "Um, a stocking. Aaand..." He squinted, "I'm not sure." He tilted his palm, "It looks like... some kind of weird, pointy, triangle... with a hat?" With a finger he rotated the second candy 180 degrees. "Oh, no; it's a Christmas tree." He popped it into his mouth.

Lois ran her tongue along the outside of her teeth and pulled her gloves back on. "Okay. Where were we?"

Jimmy leant forward to pick up the notepad and pen from his footwell. "Richard Attenborough, Tom Hanks."

"Hmmm." Lois's eyes thinned to slits as her fingers drummed against the wheel. Suddenly she held up her hands and there was a mitten-muffled click of her fingers. "Richard Attenborough was in Jurassic Park with Jeff Goldblum. Jeff Goldblum was in Independence Day with Bill Pullman. Bill Pullman starred with Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle, AND," both fingers pointed upwards like she was awarding herself a field goal, "A League of Their Own."

Jimmy had to give her her props. "Not bad."

With a slight upturn of her mouth and a little head-tweak, Lois returned a modest 'eyethankyoo' of appreciation.

Jimmy notched the score. "Your turn. Give it to me."

"Okay. Ummm. Tom Hanks to..." Lois's mind cast around. "Tim Allen." Without looking at Jimmy, she added, "Santa Claus, 'The Santa Claus'."

Without hesitation Jimmy replied, "Toy Story."

Lois chucked her cheek in disappointment with herself. "Walked into that one."

Jimmy marked their scores level again. "Okay," he tapped the pen against his chin in thought, "Let's see if we can't make this interesting. Separate the men from the boyz."

One of Lois's eyebrows raised in amusement.

"Tim Allen to... Jim Varney."

"Jim Varney?"

Jimmy's eyes twinkled, "Ernest P Worrell in such seminal motion pictures as 'Ernest Goes to Camp', 'Ernest Goes to Splash Mountain', and;" Jimmy held up a finger looking very smug, "Ernest Saves Christmas."

"Oh Jimmy." Lois slowly shook her head. "Jimmy Jim, Jim, Jim, Jimmy." She looked over at him sadly. "Jimmy."

Jimmy was magnanimous. "There's no shame in admitting defeat at this point."

"Admitting defeat?" The tone of her voice let Jimmy know he was possibly in trouble. "This? Right here?" Lois moved a stubby mitten finger around in the air between them, "Is what is known as the hunter becoming the hunted."

Jimmy's eyes narrowed.

Lois went on, "I think you'll find that not only does Toy Story boast the considerable vocal talents of one Mr Tom Hanks and one Mr Tim Allen, but it also stars none other, than Mr Jim. Varney," she finished with a dramatic flourish.

"No way."

Lois nodded once. "Voicing the Slinky Dog."

Jimmy marked the notepad- "Damn."

She pressed her hands to her chest, "I babysit young children. I know my animated feature films. It's like I always told Clark;"

She stopped short and Jimmy looked down to doodle swirls on the notepad when it became clear she was not going to finish the sentence.

When she spoke again her voice was lighter. "Do you know what we should do?"

Jimmy looked up to find her staring out the windshield. "What?"

"We should hold a Slinky race from the top floor of the Planet."

Her expression was perfectly serious. Jimmy smiled at her. "Should we?"

"Yeah, it'd be fun, don't you think?"

Jimmy thought about it. The smile on his face faded. "How would the Slinkies make it round each stairwell?"

"Oh yeah." Momentarily stumped, Lois's forehead joined Jimmy's in a crease while she considered the practicalities. "Unless..." Her eyes cleared and her forehead unwrinkled; "We made each set of stairs a stage. You know, like a time trial? And then we totted up the stage wins to find an overall champion."

"Like the Tour de France!"

Lois nodded. "Exactly."

"We could organize teams?"

Lois raised her eyebrows but nodded again- pleased that Jimmy was running with it. "We could."

"We could have, like, a yellow jersey!"

Lois's face scrunched.

"Too far?"

She looked over. "Little bit."

Jimmy nodded out towards the skyscraper opposite them. "How many flights of stairs do you think are in there, Miss Lane?"

Lois blew out a breath as her eyes tracked the height of the building. It was tall, one of the tallest buildings in Metropolis. Taller than the Planet, and she said so. "I don't know. Eighty," she shrugged, "ninety maybe?"

There were no office lights on, it was a glass and steel block of darkness and had been for the last two weeks, ever since they had started watching it. Together they stared at it. Whatever else you could say about it, it was impressive.

"Do you think anyone's in there right now?"

Lois took her time answering. Slowly, she said, "It pains me to say this? But I think there's about as much chance of someone being in there right now as there is of Jim Varney backflipping out the doors in a Santa's Little Helper costume- with little bells on the toes of his pixie boots- and leading Tom Hanks, Tim Allen, Sir Richard Attenborough, the entire cast of Toy Story and a troupe of Christmas Elves in a rendition of 'Happy Birthday To You'."

Jimmy smiled. "So, are you excited for tomorrow?"

"I'm so excited, I'm numb." Lois gave a little nod to herself; "Either that, or the hypothermia is finally starting to take hold."

"I can't feel my toes."

"Me neither."

"Shall we call it a night?"

Lois turned on the ignition. "Let's get out of here."

--

She dropped Jimmy off at home before heading back downtown, back towards the Planet. She hadn't been in since Friday and she wanted to check her messages and leave an update on the surveillance for Perry. Riding up the elevator she stretched her neck to one side to ease the stiffness and began to enjoy the sensation of warmth returning to her extremities. Loosening the scarf, she pulled off her gloves and her hat, and ran her fingers through her hair, using her reflection to rectify the most heinous excesses of hat head. Her reflection looked back. It looked tired. She wasn't really sleeping properly and there was the evidence- in the dulled blankness of her eyes.

If she was going to avoid another pep talk from Lucy it was clear that she was going to need to put in some effort. In her head, she made a note to book a hair appointment for first thing Saturday. She scratched her chin. What was the name of the guy she saw last time? It was an odd name; Nico-J, or Georgie-Nic, or JayJay-George or something. She'd have to check her planner- she was sure she had his card somewhere. Whatever his name was, it was definitely short, and it definitely involved a hyphen, and Lois definitely questioned whether it was the name he used on his tax returns. The doors dinged open as her mind worked. She strode out of the elevator; straight into the arms of someone coming the opposite way. The collision knocked the stack of boxes out of the other person's hands and sent his papers and files tumbling.

Richard said, "Whoa, hey, whoops! Sorry!"

They both bent down to their knees. Lois tucked the curtain of hair that fell across her face back behind her ear as she apologized, "No, no, it was my fault." They scrabbled around on the floor picking up loose leaves of paper. "Here, let me get this."

"No. It's okay, I got it."

"I wasn't looking where I was going."

"I was miles away."

Together they began replacing the files back into their correct boxes. As their hands worked Richard glanced up quickly and then away again. "I wasn't expecting to see you, tonight."

"No, we finished early." Lois shooshed together the paperwork she had gathered and handed over a tidy pile. Richard placed the pile in the last open box, refitted the lid and re-stacked the boxes to pick them up again. They both got to their feet.

"Early." Richard was smiling at her with raised eyebrows. "Right."

Lois bobbed her head and conceded, "Early-er." Her shoulder lifted, "You know."

"Well, it's good to see you anyway."

Lois smiled politely.

Richard rotated from the hip to nod back into the empty newsroom. "I left you a card." ...and a present.

"Oh. You shouldn't have, really," Lois said, sincerely. "Thankyou."

"You have quite a little pile, there."

Lois looked past him into the office and located her desk. On it she could make out a stack of white envelopes, along with one or two of those string-handle gift bags people put presents and bottles of wine in. "Yeah."

"So. Anything special planned?"

"For tomorrow?" She nodded seriously, "I think Jimmy's going to make me wear a button." She smiled, adding, "And I'm taking along a hip flask for the late-shift coffee run."

Richard smiled back and then looked at his shoes. "I can't tempt you into a birthday drink then?"

Lois lifted her shoulders in apology.

"You're going to spend the entire day on a stakeout?"

She rubbed her finger just underneath one eye. "It's not a stakeout, exactly."

Richard stared at her. "You're not going to celebrate at all?"

Lois's eyes darted sideways. "I already said about the hip flask, right?"

Richard's eyes rolled. Lois qualified, "My sister's coming over Saturday. I'm being treated to lunch."

His head nodded slowly. "What about Saturday night?"

The note of interest in Richard's voice was unmistakable. Lois was simultaneously wary and intrigued. "What about it?"

Richard hitched the files in his hands to get a better grip. "Well. It's just that, if you're free in the evening, the Royal Philharmonic is in town, and I've got these seats for the evening performance. They're doing Messiah..."

Comprehension settled delicately over Lois. "You know, Richard," she began. "It's just a really busy weekend."

Her eyes met his and Richard felt a moment slip away.

"I understand."

Immediately she felt bad. "And it's not that... Because, obviously, Messiah. Sounds amazing... it's just, more that-"

Richard dipped his head. "Lois. You don't need to explain yourself. I-"

"Lois." Perry sounded surprised. He was outside his office, one arm inside the doorway flicking off his lightswitch, the other was holding his trenchcoat and briefcase. He called across the room. "What are you doing here?"

Lois waved. "Hey, Chief. We knocked off early."

"Anything?"

She shook her head. "I think it's all a lie. I don't think anyone's bought that building. I think someone just enjoys the spectacle of two schlumps sat outside freezing their asses off every day."

Perry considered this. "Going back tomorrow?"

"Oh yeah," she chimed without hesitation. She lifted her chin, "What are you doing here?"

Perry did not answer immediately but instead glanced back into the darkness of his office with pursed lips. And then he looked at Lois again. "Have you got a minute?"

"Sure."

Lois turned to Richard and was treated to a warm smile. He said, "Another time."

--

Perry closed the door behind her. She flopped unceremoniously into one chair, while he shuffled round his desk to sit down."That kid thinks he's going to marry you, you know."

Alarmed, Lois straightened in the chair. Her eyebrows knotted. "Why, what's he said?"

"He hasn't said anything. I can just tell."

She relaxed again. "It's nothing. It's a stupid crush."

Perry muttered to himself, "I've heard that from you before."

Lois's expression soured. "That. Was different."

Perry acknowledged this with a vague waving of a palm. "Just don't break his heart all at once."

Lois was not in the mood. She bristled, offended both by Perry's flippancy and such an offhanded slight of her professionalism. "I don't want anything to do with him or his heart."

Perry motioned with both hands this time. "I know."

She stabbed a finger in the direction of the newsroom. "He's the one shoving drinks in my face."

Perry took a moment to separate the literal from the figurative. "I know."

Lois was scowling. Perry was wishing he had not brought this up.

"Is this why you wanted to see me?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"Because if it is, and if it's all the same, can we have this conversation tomorrow? Would that be okay?"

Perry looked up. "No, it's not why I wanted to see you," he sighed.

"It's just that it's kind of late to fully appreciate you being this unfairly condescending. I'll come in early, especially. You can have fun making me feel this tall, then."

Perry remained patient and implacable. He looked at his hands and then at her. "Are you done?"

Lois held herself in position for a moment and then allowed the tension to leave her body. Her eyes softened and she shook her head quickly as if annoyed with herself. "It's been a long day." Her legs re-crossed in front of her and she pressed her hands into her lap, signalling her intention to start over- take this from the top; "You wanted to see me?"

Now that she was no longer in attack-mode, Perry was able to read Lois more clearly and he realized that it had been a long time since he had seen her looking so weary. Her face was pale and her eyes were dark. He hesitated. Maybe he should wait until tomorrow afterall? No, he thought. It was better to do this now. His fingers laced together in front of him. "I just got off the phone with a friend of mine. He's a big shot on the Hill."

Lois's right eyebrow raised. "Oh, yeah?"

"He just wanted to give me a heads up."

Her hands were splayed on her scarf, straightening it out and smoothing the creases. "Sounds ominous."

Perry's lips pursed again. "The office of the Attorney General will announce tomorrow morning that Lex Luthor is going to stand trial, in Washington."

Lois's fingers stopped what they were doing. "Good."

"There's no word on start dates," Perry's thumbs lifted from the desk, "but he's all lawyered up. We're talking months." He hunched his shoulders. "Sometime next year, maybe."

"Okay."

Keeping his eyes on her, Perry said, "It's likely that Superman will be called as a witness."

"That makes sense."

He watched her. "A big story."

She met his gaze. "Huge."

Perry rocked back in his chair. "In an ideal world, I'd like my best reporter to cover it."

Lois swallowed. Well, somehow she'd avoided it this long. This scenario was bound to come up eventually. In preparation she had worked up a little speech which covered the pertinent facts; it'll be tricky to get Superman's side on this, Chief- seeing as how we're not really on speaking terms anymore, and to be honest the plan is we never will be again. The speech omitted the part where there was no way of knowing what she would do the next time she was face to face with Clark- and that it was in fact this that scared her the most.

She blew out between a small gap in her lips before taking a deep breath: "Perry,"

"-But I'm not going to ask you to."

The wind now gone from her sails, Lois wilted, and found herself slightly disappointed. "Oh."

Perry leaned forward again. "For two reasons." He stuck out a thumb, "One; you're my city beat reporter. I want you in the city." He stuck out his finger, "And two," this time he was the one who paused to take a moment, "it's likely that you'll be called as a witness, also."

"Oh."

His shoulders hitched. "As much as these things can be, you know. Worked out in advance."

"Yeah."

"It's unlikely that you'll bump into each other. You and he. Superman."

Lois was really not sure what to say or how best to respond to that information, but she could feel herself blushing. "Right."

"Anyway, like I said, it won't be for a while yet," Perry said softly. "I just wanted to let you know."

"Yes. No. Thankyou." She uncrossed her legs and got up to leave. She just wanted to go home now. "Was there anything else?"

Perry was looking at his desk. "Yes."

"Oh." Gently, Lois sat back down, perching herself on the edge of the chair.

"You know we've had maintenance crews in all week?"

Lois shook her head. A little bit more wary of this conversation second time round, she said, "I guess I'll take your word for it."

"A couple of guys came to see me this morning. They were running inspections on the elevators last night. Something's been gumming up the cables on car number three."

"Okay."

"Turns out it was a shirt. A man's white shirt. Quite a big guy as well, judging from the collar. What was left of it."

Perry was looking at her and again Lois found herself at a loss, not sure what was expected of her. She remained pokerfaced. "Oh?"

"They checked out the whole shaft, cleaned out the bottom level. Found some more items of clothing." Perry opened his desk drawer. "No name anywhere. But they found this."

He slid across a laminated card with a clip. It simply said PRESS and was a pretty standard access pass for press calls, media junkets, photo ops- that kind of thing. Any number of planet staffers were issued with them every day. "They figured he was one of mine, and so they brought this to me." Now Perry bent down to pick something off the floor beside him. Lois watched him set down a white plastic garbage bag on the desk in front of her.

"What is it?" Her mouth was dry.

"A matching button-down vest and trousers, a red and black striped tie, and a black lace-up leather shoe. Size fourteen."

Lois laughed huskily. "The things that people will misplace, huh?"

"Yes." Perry agreed delicately. "They um, also found these." This time he fished something out of his inside pocket. He reached over, placed it alongside the press pass. It was a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

At first she only looked at them. Then she picked them up. The pads of her thumbs brushed gently along the shape of the frame. She gestured with the glasses towards the pile of clothes. "Must have fallen out of his gym bag."

They both knew that Clark had never ever carried a gym bag. "That's what I thought too."

Perry watched her with the glasses and felt like a jerk. Perhaps he had misjudged this? "I thought you might- I thought I'd give them to you. But. I can take care of them if you like?"

She seemed to snap out of it. "No, no. I'll take them. I'll take care of it. Thankyou." She pocketed the glasses and reached for the bag. "Was there anything else?"

"No. Just keep me up to date with everything."

Lois nodded briskly. "Can I go?"

"Yeah, of course."

She managed a small smile. "Goodnight."

Perry's heart ached for her. "Goodnight."

She left. Perry watched her through the glass. He glanced to his right, to the set of clocks on the opposite wall. On the clock labelled 'Metropolis' the minute hand had just nudged past the twelve numeral.

"Happy Birthday."

--

It was gorgeous outside. High nineties and low humidity the weatherman said, and he was right. The ceiling fan was running, and the window was open on its hinge. If there was one thing Frank had learned since being here, it was that the holiday season in Bali was not often of the greetings-card-scene variety. His daughter had never seen snow and the closest she was going to get to a white Christmas this year would once again be the palm-fringed beaches of the eastern side of the island. Outside, one wouldn't necessarily even know it was the week before Christmas except souvenir stands now included little wooden nativity figurines in their range, and you were sometimes served your drinks order by bar staff wearing Santa hats.

The Donahues themselves liked to celebrate Christmas in their own uniquely acclimatized way. The greetings cards they sent out wished people a happy holiday but were written in Balinese, and the office decorations combined holly wreaths and tinsel with the fairy lights and candleplaces left over from Diwali. And in the corner of the newsroom there was a Christmas tree.

To compliment the prevailing Indo/Anglo theme Frank was sat at his desk eating out of a tupperware carton containing rice and duck- with a side of cranberry. His wife was peering through the small gap in the blinds she had created with her fingers.

She was frowning. "Would you look at them? Work, work, work. It's not healthy."

The staff were on their lunchbreak, the office was empty. Except for the usual suspects. Howard was in his dark room- Sandy could see that the red light was on. Clark was hunched over his keyboard typing furiously. It was an image everyone was used to- the smartly dressed young man bent to his task and oblivious of any distraction. Even the weather didn't slow him down. As usual he looked crisp and sharp in a shirt and tie, the collar buttoned right to the top. The only concession he ever made to the temperature were his roster of light-colored suits.

Through a forkful of rice Frank said, "It's healthy for business."

Sandy fixed him with an unimpressed face.

Frank waited until his mouth was clear. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, he said, "What do you want me to do?"

"Have you invited them for dinner?"

"Yes."

"Both of them?"

"Yes."

Sandy waited. "And?"

With the fork still in one hand Frank shrugged, "Howard said he's not sure."

Sandy returned to gaze out of the window. "What about Clark?"

"He said he's going back home for Christmas."

Sandy tsked to herself.

Frank watched her watching Clark. "You know, sometimes people are just hard workers. Clark's what my father would have called 'a grafter'."

"You know, sometimes there's more to it than that." They looked at each other. "Clark's what my father would have called 'a loner'."

"And maybe it's none of our business."

Sandy went back to looking out and hummed. That was certainly true. There was just something about Clark. He went about his work in such a quiet and unfussy way, she had never heard him raise his voice, and he had the best manners of anyone she had ever met outside her own family. But there was something else. A quality about him. Was it loneliness? Homesickness, maybe? Whatever it was, it pulled at her maternal instinct. "Did you mention my pumpkin pie?"

Frank rolled his eyes and in the hope of peace, relented. "I'll ask him again."

Satisfied, Sandy allowed the blinds to snap closed. "I better go." She thumbed the door. "You want me to send him in?"

Frank wiped his hands with a napkin and made exaggerated jaw movements in an effort to dislodge little pieces of rice. "Please."

She pulled open the door and stuck her head out. "Hey Clark. Have you got a second?"

Clark glanced up smiling. "For you? Absolutely. What's up?"

Sandy nudged her head sideways. "Frank." She turned to face back inside the office. "Need anything while I'm out?"

Frank scratched the top of his head. "We're getting low on toner if you're passing that way."

Sandy nodded as Clark came past. "What about you, Sweetcheeks?"

"What's that?"

"I'm going to pick up Becky- do you need anything from town?"

Clark said no thankyou.

"How about some lunch?"

Sandy ignored the glare from Frank's direction while Clark blinked. "I'm sorry?"

With a sweet-natured smile, she still managed to sound slightly accusatory, "You've not stopped all morning?"

"Oh. No, I'm fine thankyou." Clark pressed both hands to his stomach. "I had a big breakfast."

"Well, I'm sure you did, but breakfast was exactly one mealtime ago."

Underneath the cheery façade there was an edge to his wife's tone that was as unmistakable to Frank as it was familiar. It was her 'don't mess with me. I'm a mom and I know best' voice.

"Why don't I just-"

"-Thankyou. Darling."

Clark bounced lightly on his feet, and found an interesting spot on the ceiling, trying his best to pretend to not notice the silent exchange of extremely heated eye-arguing. Eventually, from behind him, Sandy piped, "I'll bring you a sandwich."

"Bye, honey." Frank said sweetly but sternly.

Sandy backed off. "I'll see you guys later." On her way out she turned to mouth 'Pie!' over Clark's shoulder.

Frank rolled his eyes and waited for her to leave. "Sorry about that. Take a seat." He smiled at Clark. "You look nervous."

Clark was looking at the stack of files Frank had piled on one corner of his desk. They were labelled 'Kent, C J'. "I guess it's review time for me, too?"

Frank removed the tupperware box and slid the files over in its place. He took out and daintily put on a pair of half-moon spectacles. "End of the year's a good time to take stock, I think."

Clark nodded as Frank opened the top folder. "I'll be straight with you, Clark. After the polling piece, I wasn't sure where this style of writing fitted into our paper." Frank's hands opened while he read it. "It's just a little hard-hitting, you know? Our popularity's been built on events coverage; visitor information; selling the island. Not political corruption and scandal."

Clark shifted uncomfortably as Frank removed and refolded the glasses. "But I've got to tell you. Readership since you've been here has doubled. I thought I knew our demographic." Frank's eyes shone. "I've never been so happy to be proven wrong." The smile faded a little while Frank closed the file. "I don't know if I can, but I'd really like to keep you here. What do you say?"

An expression of delight took its place on Clark's face. "Sir, it would be an honor." They shook hands.

Frank beamed. "Good. And that goes for whether Sam... makes it back or not."

Clark looked down. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. About the Review."

"Now that's more like it!" Frank rooted through the most recent document to find the relevant pages of copy- "I thought the drafts were great."

Clark still felt uneasy about it. "I wasn't sure that I was finding the right tone. He had a very distinctive style."

"It's different." Frank agreed. "It's good."

Clark smiled tightly. "Big shoes."

Frank looked over at him steadily. "You're doing a really good job with this."

Clark nodded. "The other thing is." He held and then blew out a breath. "Howard really needs to go through it."

"I'll talk to him. Have him put something on your desk."

"Thankyou."

Clark got to his feet. Frank rose with him. "Oh, hey. Before you go."

Clark hesitated with one hand on the door handle.

"You sure you can't make it next week?" Frank squinted hopefully, "We'll have plenty?"

"Oh. No. Thankyou." Clark raised a hand graciously, "I'm going home."

"I'm under instruction to mention my wife's pumpkin pie?"

Clark's face set in a grin. "It's an incredibly generous offer. Maybe next year?"

"She thinks you work too hard." Frank nodded towards the newsroom. "You are allowed breaks you know, for food, and water and things."

He watched the young man's cheeks redden. "Well, actually sir, now that you mention it, my plan was to work right through and finish early today."

"Oh." Frank sounded taken aback.

"It's my friend's birthday," Clark explained.

"Oh, okay."

Clark frowned. "I mean... if that's alright?"

"Yes, no, that's fine!" Frank bobbed his head in exaggerated fashion. "No. Yes. That's great." He wiggled the fingers of one hand out in front of him. "You get going, as soon as you're done. As soon as you want."

Relieved, Clark took a breath. "Thankyou."

"To tell you the truth, Sandy'll be mighty pleased. She's been worrying about you. She's a strong believer in the importance of a work/life balance."

A work/life balance. Clark smiled weakly. "Yes."

Frank shrugged, "So, where's the party? Is it local?"

Avoiding eye contact, Clark fidgeted with his glasses. "It's um... just the other side of ...town."

--

The car radio was on, Lois had Christmas songs for company. She hummed along until someone requested 'Wonderful Christmastime' and she was forced to find another station. She was a fan of the Beatles, she didn't mind Wings, she appreciated Paul McCartney as much as the next reasonable person- but she just couldn't stand that song. There was something about the electric keyboard intro that she found intensely irritating. Her thumb pressed the dial on the console.

She scanned through some advertisements before catching the end of a news report. A volcano had just erupted somewhere in South America. She listened until the announcer mentioned Superman, and then she remembered that her new thing was that she didn't care about him or anything he did anymore and so she turned the radio off. And then she felt like an idiot.

Huffing into the silence, Lois twisted in the seat to get a better view but there was still no sign of Chinese food, or, for that matter, Jimmy. In the middle of the road a loose centerfold of newspaper flapped in the breeze. Across the street LexCorp Tower remained deserted. As far as one could tell, anyway. Its black shape loomed overhead. She leaned forward and angled her temple against the cool glass of the side window, craning her neck to see if she could make it past the foreshortening of the building and see to the very top edge of the roof from down here at street level. She found that she could. And beyond it, was a brilliant night sky.

Despite yesterday's miserable forecast, today- her birthday, had turned out to be cloudless and unseasonably warm; the brightest day of the winter so far. And it had given way to the clearest night. Lois gazed upwards, thralled by the view. She mused quietly, "We're all in the gutter. But some of us are looking at the stars."

Her cell phone vibrating on the dashboard startled her. She smiled at the caller ID before she pressed to answer. Down the phoneline the Lane-Feldmans chorused, "HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAY!"

Lois chuckled. "Hello everyone."

For a moment Lois heard nothing except the sounds of a struggle. Then some kind of negotiation talks seemed to be underway. Above other voices she could hear her sister. "No, listen, just let Mommy talk to her first. It's important. ...Huh?"

Then Lucy's voice was louder. Apparently, the negotiation had been conducted successfully. She was insisting, "No, I'm not going to say anything, I promise."

"Hey. What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing," Lucy said, "just Elizabeth. So how was your day, birthday girl?"

Lois weighed up an answer. "Pretty good, thanks."

"We uh, heard on the news; about Lex Luthor. Do you really think he'll go to jail?"

"They'll throw away the key if I have anything to do with it."

"Will you have to testify?"

"It's early days, Luce. I don't know."

"We just tried you at home. You're not still at the Planet are you?"

Wearily rather than defensively, Lois replied, "No, I'm not still at the Planet."

"Are you sure?"

"Lucy, please. Give me some credit."

Lucy's voice carried an undertone of rank suspicion. "Where are you?"

Alone in her car, Lois knocked her knees together. "I'm ...out. Getting some dinner."

"By yourself?"

Lois sighed. "No."

There was an agitated little gasp. Lois could imagine the expression of delight on her sister's face. "We're not interrupting anything are we?"

Lois deadpanned, "You mean apart from the hot date I'm in the middle of?"

"Seriously?" Lucy squeaked.

"No."

A scowl was followed by more strangled mumblings. "Yes, in a minute. No, I'm not going to tell her!"

Lois listened harder, trying to make out words. "What's going on over there?"

"Elizabeth's got some news. She wants to tell you herself."

Lois smiled. "If she can wait a couple of days, she can tell me in person?"

A heavy silence fell. A damning silence. Lois squinted, "You guys are still coming over Saturday, right?"

"Oh, honey. We really want to, but something's come up."

Lucy sounded pained and so Lois tried to keep the crushing disappointment out of her voice. "You can't make it?"

"It's David's mother. She's taken a turn for the worse. I'm so sorry, Lo. I know you were looking forward to it. We were too."

Lois brushed it off. "No, Lucy, Come on. I understand."

"We're staying over but we were thinking we could stop by first thing Sunday- on the way back home?"

Lois raised an eyebrow. "And what's that? A five hundred-mile round trip, in twenty-four hours? The weekend before Christmas?"

"We'd do it, no problem?"

"I think you should focus on David. He must be going through it right now."

"He worries about his dad," Lucy admitted.

"There you go. Let him worry about his mom and his dad. You don't need to worry about me."

There was a beat. Lucy was uncertain. "Are you sure?"

Lois ran her palm along her jeans. "I'm absolutely the last thing you need to worry about. Seriously."

"I know, it's just- I hate to think of you rattling around all al-"

"Hey." Lois interrupted brightly, "I'll see you in a week anyway, right?"

"I guess."

"Besides." Lois sniffed. "Actually, I'm really busy this weekend." She swallowed, "...Last minute ...Christmas... whatnot, and ...seasonal ...whatever."

"Okay." Lois could tell Lucy was chewing a thumbnail. "If you're sure?"

Out the window, Jimmy had just turned into sight. He was carrying a cardboard box out in front of him like a theater attendant with a tray. The cardboard box was steaming.

"Listen, Luce. Dinner's arriving. I've gotta run."

"Oh, okay. Bye, then! See you at Christmas, alright?"

Lois smiled. "First thing."

"Don't forget you're picking up Dad."

Her eyes rolled. "I won't."

"His flight gets in quite early."

"I know."

"You can check the times on the Internet. Would you like me to email you the details?"

"Lucy," Lois said sharply. "I can handle it."

"Okay. Love you!"

"Love you too." Lois lowered the phone to end the call.

A small, tinny Lucy cried into the dark, "Oh! Wait!" Lois hastily moved the handset back to her ear, "What?"

"Elizabeth!"

"What?"

"She's been chosen to read something out at the Christmas concert! She wrote it herself."

"Really?" Lois fairly beamed with pride. "That's great! Tell her congratulations from me."

"It was about her Superman party."

A breath caught in Lois's throat. "That's great."

"I was thinking you could just pass that on and tell him thanks again."

Lois faltered. "I...I..."

Down the line, in the background, Lois made out a small, unhappy voice. "M-o-m! Did you tell her?"

"Of course not, honey!" Lucy sounded faraway again. There was some mumbling. And then, "No, she can't talk right now. She's busy."

Lucy's voice was louder as she came back on the line; "Lo, I better go. Happy Birthday, hon!" And then the line went dead.

For a moment Lois didn't move, didn't even end the call. She simply remained still, holding the phone and the dial tone to her head. Outside the passenger door, Jimmy waited patiently, hopping from one foot to the other to keep warm. Flipping the cell shut, Lois leaned across to flick up the lock. She held up the phone. "Sorry."

Jimmy settled into his seat balancing the box of takeout on his knees. "Who was that?"

"No one. My sister."

Jimmy whipped off his gloves and methodically began to lift out cartons of food, setting them down in the spaces between his feet. "Okay, we got soup, rice, chicken chow mein-" he pointed at Lois; "with extra mushrooms. And, mu shu pork with pancakes. And Mr Wan sent you this; on the house." Lastly, Jimmy carefully lifted out a greasy paper plate on which an egg roll was lolling around. There was a birthday candle inelegantly wedged into the top.

Lois said nothing. Jimmy reached for a foam cup of soup and licked the tip of his thumb where there had been a little overspill underneath the lid. He glanced over at Lois. "You okay?"

"Yeah." From some other place, her focus seemed to pull back in. "Yum. Egg rolls." She offered Jimmy an unconvincing smile. "My favorite."

--

By the time he got home fingers of red streaked the sky and there was no point in going back to bed. Clark grabbed a quick shower and a slice of toast and headed into work. The office was not far from his building, just a five-minute walk. The only other people out on the streets in the early morning gloom were market traders and street sellers.

There was a newspaper stand where Clark stopped every day. Its shutters were up and Clark nodded good morning at the owner and bought a copy of the Planet. It was tucked under his arm as he punched in the keycode, and let himself in to the offices of the Gazette.

At the top of the stairs Clark opened the doors to the newsroom but hesitated at the threshold. The main lights were already on but the room was empty. Moving quietly Clark went over to his desk.

Before leaving yesterday afternoon he had left his workspace clear and free of clutter- as usual. Now there was a single sheet of letter paper and a shoeboxed sized storage container. The paper had been layered with evenly spaced yellow sticky notes covered in handwriting, the box was not labelled. Clark set down the copy of the Planet from his arm and carefully worked off the lid.

The box was full of photographs, all 8" x 10" in size. Some were in color, some were black and white. Clark began to finger through them. The prints were loosely piled in, and they were not categorized in any way he could tell except that they seemed to be in chronological order. The pictures were of people- all kinds of people, everyone, of the island through the year. Clark worked back in time. Groups shots and candids, all mixed in together. Some of the pictures were formal- weddings and presentations and classes of school children, ramrod straight with a stern-looking teacher stood to one side- but most were not. There were pictures of street festivals and beach parties, people dancing and people laughing. Normal people. The collection reminded Clark of his school newspaper days. It was like a yearbook. It was wonderful.

Towards the bottom of the pile Clark found a picture and slid it out to get a better look. It had been taken here, in the newsroom, over in front of Frank's office. Clark flipped it over. In pencil, it was marked 'Jan. Eek's B'day'. And there was the birthday boy himself, Eko, in the middle of the group with his arms slung around Frank and Sandy on either side. Clark smiled. Eko looked a little worse for wear. Next to Sandy there was Henry who was balancing a party cup on the top of Rebecca's head. On the opposite side, laughing with Frank, there was a man Clark didn't recognize. He realized it must be Sam. Clark lingered on the image. Sam was fair haired, about his age and about his height but skinnier, Clark thought.

A door creaked; Clark glanced around. Howard was at the doorway of the darkroom with his camera in his hand. Although it was silly, Clark felt a hot rush of guilt, like he had been caught prying. He carefully replaced the photograph back into the pack. "These are great. Thanks."

Howard looked at the set of yellow post-its on the desk. "I made some notes. The trick with the Review is to use crowd pictures wherever you can." He lifted the camera a little, "Readers like to try and find themselves."

Clark nodded slowly. "I'll do that."

For a moment silence descended and neither man moved. It was not the first time they had been alone in the office- but usually they were engrossed in work. It was awkward. Then Howard said, "You forgot to write about the tsunami."

They shared a look. "I didn't forget."

"Bali was affected too."

"I wasn't sure that... people would want to-"

"It happened," Howard simply shrugged. He gestured to the box, "The same as Temple celebrations, or Halloween, or Diwali, or Christmas. It happened." He smiled sadly. "It's pointless pretending it didn't."

They heard someone coming up the steps from downstairs. Frank arrived. He looked the both of them up and down before crossing the floor.

"Not you two, again. What the heck kind of time do you get up in the morning?" He fiddled through a large bunch of keys at his office door. "Or is it that you don't go home?"

"-Couldn't sleep."

"-Couldn't sleep."

With a raised eyebrow Frank looked over his shoulder at Howard and Clark looking at each other. Then Frank frowned and sniffed. "Can anyone else smell ash?"

Must invest in a stronger shampoo, Clark mentally instructed himself as Frank turned to Howard. "Have you been burning incense sticks in here again?"

--

Lois slung the scrubbing pad into the plastic bucket and got up off all fours. She peeled away the rubber gloves and dropped them into the bucket too. She found a pen and pulled off the cap with her teeth while a socked foot swung the oven door closed. With the pen she faced the refrigerator and deliberately scored a line through the last item on the piece of notepaper in front of her; 'Clean oven'.

"Done."

And there you had it. She clicked the lid back onto the pen. The List had been completed. It was no more. The oven had been cleaned. And before that the freezer had been defrosted. And before that the bathroom tiles had been de-scaled. Her spice rack was now arranged in alphabetical order and she had finally got round to removing that unsightly wine stain off the coffee table. She looked at The List, toying with the idea of framing it or at least maybe laminating it. This was an historic moment and she felt that it deserved to be preserved or commemorated in some way.

Then she sighed, reached out, pulled The List away off the fridge, screwed it up and aimed it into her trashcan. The time on the microwave read 19:02. Seven o'clock on a Saturday night and she was stood in the middle of her spotless kitchen, hands on hips, in flannel bottoms and no make-up, marking time and at a complete loose end. There was simply nothing left to do.

She had finished all her Christmas shopping early this year. The presents yet to be distributed- the ones for her family, were already packed away in bags, waiting in the hall. She had sent all of her cards weeks ago, including one for the Walkers in which she had slipped a copy of the Pretenders Greatest Hits for the kids.

She had spent the morning sat in front of LexCorp Tower, and then the afternoon cleaning, and right now as she saw it, it was a toss up between going next door to hang out with Misty and old Mrs Eckler, digging around on her hard drive to work on one of many long-since abandoned romance novellas, or heading back for an evening stint on stakeout duty. She could always take a book?

A sound from outside her apartment caught her attention. She tuned her ears to it. It was a distinctive sound- the sound of singing. Of children singing. She recognized the tune. It was coming from down the hall. Lois clasped her hands together. Christmas Carolers; coming this way! In an enthusiastic frenzy of movement she checked her purse for some loose change. Finding a measly couple of pennies and a subway ticket she opened and closed cupboards searching for something suitable to give the children. The singing was getting closer. The best she could come up with was a packet of stale water crackers and a tub of mixed olives. She sighed ruefully; it had been a while since her homelife had justified a grocery shop.

In desperation Lois rifled through her bag of wrapped gifts trying to locate the only thing she could think of that was in anyway Christmassy; she found the octagonal-shaped box with the tag addressed to her father and ripped off the wrapping. The lid came with it and liquor-filled chocolate bottles spilled everywhere. Scooping a handful off the floor Lois went to her door and yanked it open. The singing was now coming from the opposite direction. She turned to see the stragglers of the group rounding the corner at the end of her corridor, the bobble on the end of one little boy's woolly hat disappearing out of sight, the strains of 'O Come All Ye Faithful' getting fainter and fainter.

They were gone. They had passed her by. She had been snubbed by Carol singers.

She checked her neighbors' doors. Mrs Eckler had hung a wreath. Further down, the frame of next-door-but-one was edged with tinsel. In comparison she had to admit her own door looked kind of bare and uninviting. Certainly not very festive. She gazed back into her apartment. There were no decorations and no tree. It was true she hadn't been around the place much lately but it was still a dispiriting sight.

She looked at the liquors in her hand and went to grab her purse.

--

Think festively, Lois instructed herself as she scuffed along the aisles with a hand basket dangling in one hand and a blueberry slushie in the other.

It was only a short walk to the nearest 7-Eleven and so she hadn't bothered to change. She'd simply shrugged on her heaviest coat, pulled on a pair of furry moonboots and headed out. She moved up and down the walkways slowly, lacking her usual purpose, sucking on her straw, dragging the soles of her feet. Over the radio system 'Wonderful Christmastime' came on and inwardly Lois cringed. She couldn't stand that song.

In the basket she had placed the only items the store still had in stock by way of seasonal decoration; a packet of straggley red tinsel, a plastic angel for the top of her non-existent tree and one of those crappy battery-operated doorbuzzers that played 'Jingle Bells' when you pressed it. She figured she could tie a length of string to the halo of the angel and turn it into a hanging ornament of some kind. The electronic doorbuzzer on the other hand wasn't really her style, but sometimes one had to make the best of a bad situation.

She paused over some novelty keychains in the middle of the homeware aisle. There were some pocket flashlights designed to look like Rudolf- the bulb lighted red when you held the button. She dropped one into the basket as a replacement for the keychain Jimmy had lost in her car.

After picking over some half-price cookies in the bargain bin Lois gravitated over towards the liquor section where a man and a woman were browsing the wine selection. Lois helped herself to a bottle of Creme de Cacao and then a large bottle of Captain Black's Jamaican Rum thinking she could fix herself some Frosty Noggins and really enter into the spirit of things. The bottles clonked together in her basket and she was treated to a disapproving look from the couple. She shrugged, "I'm thinking festively."

She joined the end of the checkout line, prodding the handbasket along with her feet when the line moved, jangling the keys in her pocket, sucking up the dregs of the slushie. It was only when she had nearly reached the cash register that she saw who was serving. The lip stud, the blue hair, the nametag pinned to his faded tour tee shirt. Bradley. She thought he only worked the early morning shift. Lois quickly glanced over her shoulder. There were other customers milling around- maybe he wouldn't strike up conversation? And she was wearing a big camel hair coat and furry boots. Maybe it was possible he wouldn't recognize her without looking normal? She hedged her bets and made to avoid eye contact regardless.

"Oh, hey, Miss Blodgett!" Bradley exclaimed loudly and delightedly, as if they had just bumped into each other on the street.

"Hello Bradley." Lois replied, low and even. It was a calculated ploy to set the tone and try and instill decorum into the conversation from the get-go.

Unhindered, Bradley beeped her items through. "Don't usually see you in here on a Saturday night!"

"No." Lois agreed quickly.

"Well. I'm glad you came in." Bradley leaned across to whisper- an affectation rendered redundant because he was speaking at such a high volume anyway. "I've got an early Christmas present for you."

"Oh? Really?" Sweet as it was, there was something about Bradley's over-enthusiasm that always made Lois slightly nervous. She suspected the young man harbored something of a crush and she hoped there was not a conflict of interests.

Finished with bagging everything the teenager ducked down beneath the counter and came back up with a medium-sized package wrapped in brown paper labelled to a Ms S. Blodgett. "This month's shipment was early. Just came in this morning. Shall I add it your bill?"

Lois's eyes darted left and right. "Uh, that would be great, thanks."

Bradley slapped the top of the package. "I'll go find you something to carry this in." He rang up the register and disappeared to find a waste disposal bag or something equally hardy. Lois's fingertips drummed the counter while she waited. A familiar voice close to her ear said, "Hey."

She whipped around to find herself at eye-level with a white bow tie.

"Richard!"

The bow tie was augmented by the rest of a very formal-looking outfit. Wearing a dinner jacket and long winter coat, with a crimson colored scarf hanging around his neck, Richard looked very smart. His eyes danced as he grinned at her. Actually, he looked more than smart. He looked very handsome. The thought took her by surprise. Rather charmingly, the effect was spoiled somewhat by the jumbo packets of yellow M&Ms and beef jerky he was holding in his hands.

With a raised eyebrow he nodded towards her own purchases where a shiny packet of hazelnut cookies and the distinctive neck of a bottle of rum were poking out the top of the bag in an incriminatingly visible fashion. "Big plans, huh?"

Lois ran a wisp of hair behind her ear. "I, uh... stuff got cancelled." She moved herself to block his view of the grocery bag. This served to remind her that in the face of his dashing appearance, she was wearing her pajamas. Pulling her coat tighter, she frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"On the way to the performance." He lifted the jerky and the M&Ms. "Just stopping for supplies."

Lois glanced at one of the packets. "I thought you didn't eat meat?"

"Oh, these aren't for me." Richard looked past Lois, to the entrance way, "They're for her."

Lois turned to see a painfully glamorous woman waiting at the door. Long earrings and an expensive looking necklace shimmered in the strip lighting of the store. She called over, "Richie, I think I forgot to mention-"

Before she could finish Richard held up the M&Ms. The woman broke into a grin and then made an exaggerated pointing gesture with both her hands- "I'll be in the car."

Lois turned back to Richard to find him gazing at her.

"So. How's the stakeout going?"

"Well, technically, it's not really a-"

Patiently, Richard corrected, "-How's the pseudo stakeout going?"

"Oh, you know." Lois nodded slowly, "It's pretty much been up there with learning the moves to the Macarena and attending the deputy Mayor's press briefings, as a total and complete waste of my time."

Richard smiled. "So can we expect you back in on Monday? Staff party?" He put a hopeful rising inflection on the last two words.

"I think we're going to give it the old college try one last time before the holiday."

He nodded in acceptance. "Well. We miss you in the office."

"I miss you, too." There was just the briefest telltale glottal stop before Lois added, "The office, I mean. The whole thing. And Jimmy. We both do."

Richard regarded her carefully. Was it possible that she was a little flustered? The idea brought a slow-burning smile to his lips.

Under his scrutiny Lois jerked her head. "I better get going. I hope you have a nice night." She placed a fifty dollar bill on the counter and balanced the paper bag on top of the package before edging it towards the side and heaving the whole thing off. "Tell him to keep the change."

--

Henry was nearing the payoff of a longwinded set-up. Clark could tell this because of the way Henry was struggling to keep a straight face and it was a well-known trait of his joke-telling that Henry cracked himself up.

"So he calls a special meeting to let the Cardinals know about the situation. He says; 'Okay, I have some good news and some bad news for you guys. The good news is that we're getting a hundred million dollars from The Tasty Turkey Company." There was a well-practiced comedic delay. "The bad news is that we've lost the ReadiBread account.'"

The punchline was met with some good-natured chuckling. Howard said, "Very good."

Henry sipped from his bottle and wiped his mouth. "It was in an email."

Everyone was gathered around Clark's desk. It was the end of the day, there was an easy school's-nearly-out atmosphere. They were relaxing, drinking and trading bad jokes, waiting for Frank to put the paper to bed and give them the official all clear.

"I've got one."

Everyone looked at Eko.

"What does Rudolf always say before telling a joke?"

Without missing a beat, Rebecca finished, "This one'll sleigh you."

This time there were groans. Eko scowled at Rebecca's unashamed gazumping. The little girl only sipped on her bottle of Cherry cola and continued clicking her sandals together. She smiled beatifically at him.

Sandy checked her watch again. "At this rate, we're going to need a flying reindeer and a sleigh. Honestly- you would think this would be the one day he could cut us some slack?"

"C'mon Sandy. Deadlines are deadlines. Can you imagine the letters page if we didn't get the Christmas edition out on time?" Howard smiled crookedly. "No Review? There'd be a revolt."

Of course Sandy knew he was right, but still. She rearranged the bed sheet her daughter was wearing. "But 8 o'clock? On Christmas Eve?"

"I know- bunch of slackers or what?"

Sandy shot Henry a warning glance, "Don't." She sighed, looking at Rebecca. "You can hardly have a Nativity play without Mary."

Behind them, Frank put down the phone and stepped out of his office.

He held up his hands. "And- we're done."

After a round of ironic cheers and high-fiving Sandy produced a sprig of plastic mistletoe. Dangling it above her head, she rewarded all of her guys with a quick kiss and a Merry Christmas. Henry picked up Rebecca for her turn and to unconvincing protests, she got a kiss from everyone too. She hoped dearly that Mister Kent didn't see her blush.

In uncompromising fashion, Sandy thumbed the door. "Let's go."

"I've just got to set the alarm."

"Honey, we're cutting it a little close. Mrs Griffith will be going ballistic; do you know how long she spent on those angel costumes? She used real sequins!"

"I know, I know." Frank was patting himself down. "Shoot. Where are my keys?"

"Bossman, just get going would you? We'll lock up."

Frank threw Howard a grateful look, "Are you sure? I know it's been a long day."

Howard assured him it was no problem. "Anyway. Eeks brought beer." Howard gazed down at the bottle in his hand- the labelling was of an unknown brand and in Indonesian. "Such as it is." He waited for Eko's delayed reaction, smiling broadly when he received the inevitable shove to the shoulder.

"In that case, let's get this show on the road."

Rebecca hopped lightly off the desk. Frank shouldered his leather satchel. "See you fellas tomorrow."

Henry tipped a salute. Eko said, "Do we need to bring anything?"

"Just a hearty appetite!" Sandy's eyes danced. "I'm trying out a new nut roast recipe for you guys this year!"

Prompted by a hard look from Rebecca, Henry and Eko responded with an overcompensatory, "Mmmm!"

More Merry Christmas's were exchanged in English and Balinese as Frank ushered his family towards the door. Henry called, "Break a bone, Becca!"

"Leg." Howard corrected.

"I will!"

"Oh, and hey." Clark held up the opened gift in his hand. "Thanks for the socks."

Sandy called back, "You're more than welcome, sweetie."

"And the candleholder." Clark gave Rebecca a warm smile.

Without making eye contact, Rebecca breathed, "You're welcome."

Frank pointed at Clark. "Travel safe, you hear?"

"I do. I will. See you in the New Year."

They listened as the Donahues rattled down the wooden staircase and out of the building.

Howard clapped his hands at the other three. "Before everyone disappears; anyone for a drop of the good stuff?" He went over to open his desk drawer and came back with an unopened bottle of whiskey.

Clark stirred to make a move. "I can't really, I should get going too."

"Oh come on, Clark." Howard set out four paper cups and into each poured a single measure. "It's Christmas." Clark stayed put.

"Gentlemen." They followed Howard's lead and all raised their drinks. "A toast. To absent friends."

Howard knocked his back in one. Clark did too before gently replacing the cup to the desk. "That's really it for me. I'll leave you guys to it." He gathered his things and walked to the door. "Happy Holidays."

Howard sat down in Clark's vacated chair. He stared into his empty cup. "You know. Sam hated it."

"Whiskey?"

"Noo," Howard chuckled at Eko. "Christmas. The whole thing." He fluttered a hand in the air. "Forced joviality; when the rest of the whole year, the world's so hateful." His eyebrows raised as he smiled wistfully. "Why he loved it here, I guess."

The smile broke. Howard disregarded the cup to drop his head and run his hands through his hair. He whimpered, "Oh God, look at me. I'm such a cliché."

Henry looked into his drink. "He would've been really proud of you, man."

"No, he wouldn't. He would've kicked me up the backside and told me to get on with it."

Henry's lips downturned in consideration. "Yeah, he would."

"My first Christmas without him." Howard sighed to catch a breath. He looked up, "What the hell am I going to do?"

Eko slapped him between the shoulder blades. "Well. Tomorrow? You're going to come have dinner with us."

"I can't. I'd be terrible company."

"It's okay, How. We're used to it."

That forced a milky laugh. "And then what?"

"And then, hell, we don't care." Eko regarded him unapologetically. "Nut roast. The least you can do is be there with us."

Henry was nodding. "Moral support."

"After that?" Eko continued, "We'll take you back home. You can be as alone and bitter as you want."

Howard smiled a small, grateful smile. "It's just... I'm finding it hard. To keep going. Ticking off all these ...things. Without him."

"It'll get easier."

Howard looked back at Eko steadily. "It's been months and it hasn't so far. What if it never gets easier?"

Henry suddenly looked very serious. As if reciting a mantra, he said, "Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway."

Howard's face cleared. Feeling a little better, he nodded. "What is that? Some kind of ancient Hindi proverb?"

Sheepishly Henry gazed at the toes of his cowboy boots. "S'John Wayne, actually."

"You'll get over this, How. I promise you. And then?" Eko lifted his arms, "There is no one that knows."

"What are you telling me? That I'll move on. Find somebody else?" Howard shook his head. "It doesn't work that way," he said softly.

"Of course it does. You think there's only one person out there for you? One true love? And that's it? All over? Apa-apa?"

"You don't?"

Eko made a phffing noise and flapped a hand.

"Don't you believe in soulmates?"

"Radha and Krishna is a nice story. But the chances, the odds, the mathematics;" Eko was unmoved by the look on Howard's face, "it's simply not feasible."

"Feasible?" Howard was nearly smiling. "Eko. Mate. It's not about mathematics, or statistics, or being feasible." Howard's dark eyes shone. "It's about... meeting someone- someone who charges the air around them. And discovering that there's a connection between you that's so strong, you feel completed in a way that you didn't know even existed." Howard's expression changed, darkened. His voice dropped. He rasped, "And then they're gone. And you realize. That a part of you has gone too."

"But it's just that part, Howard. Just one part. You're still here. You have to live. Grieve, yes. But then you have to go on."

For a moment Howard seemed on the verge of tears. Then he smiled again. "No, guys, you don't understand. It's not just grieving. It's more than that. Losing him..." Howard swallowed. "It changes you, who you are. It's like you're someone different now. Like you've been altered. Physically." He looked up into his friends worried faces and tried to explain. "It's like you're trying to slip back into a life, a way of living, but you've changed shape and nothing quite fits anymore. It's like there's this blank space. A nothingness." In the struggle for the words, Howard sighed and threw up a hand, "It's like-"

"It's like there's an ache, a longing, a dull hopeless yearning for something that you know you'll never get back."

Howard, Eko and Henry all turned, surprised to find Clark was still standing at the door. Clark was looking back in their direction but not really at them. His voice was lower and flatter than usual. He seemed faraway as he continued to speak. "You can feel it inside of you, here, an emptiness where that person used to be, and you carry it with you, all the time. A missing piece, a loss, an absence so unforgiving that it keeps you awake at night." One of his eyebrows raised. "It's like you saw the rest of your life unfolding in that person's face, and you can barely imagine going through life without them. And now, all that's left is the reality of the world you wake up in, and the certainty that somehow, life's not as bright as it was before. And it never will be again."

The room was silent. They watched Clark blink and his eyes clear, almost as if he'd been knocked unconscious and he was just coming to. In a more stable, colorful voice he said, "I mean, you know. Probably." He coughed. "So I've heard."

Howard was speechless. They were all speechless.

Clark touched his glasses before throwing them a cheerful smile. "Anyway. Have a great Christmas everyone!" In place of a drink, he raised the candleholder Rebecca had given him. "Cheers."

Automatically, Henry and Eko lifted their cups to Clark's disappearing back. Their hands lowered again. They turned back to Howard who still looked stunned.

He lifted his thumb. "Yeah." Howard offered, absently. "It's a little bit- it's a little bit like what he said."

--

In Metropolis, the morning air was chill. Lois had wrapped up warm against it. She nodded ahead. "I've got a good feeling about today."

Jimmy was slumped in his seat with his hands under his armpits. His voice was toneless and muffled by his scarf. "I don't even know what day it is, anymore."

"I think it's Christmas Eve."

Jimmy looked sideways at her. "How can you be sure?"

Lois's wrist moved to hold up the advent calendar. "One chocolate left."

--

Clark packed the gifts for his mother and Ben last, laying them carefully on top of everything else. As he zipped the hold-all closed there was a knock on the door. He checked his wristwatch. It was just after nine. He x-rayed the door as he went to answer it and was surprised.

He pulled the door open. "Howard."

Dispensing with small talk, Howard said, "So who was she?"

"She?"

Howard made a face.

Clark sighed. "She-" He smiled lopsidedly, and then shook his head. "It's over now. It doesn't matter."

"Yeah, that's just what it sounded like." Howard's eyes checked to see if they could find any tell tale mark on Clark's ring finger. "Divorced?"

Clark let out a hollow laugh. "No."

Clark watched the thought cross Howard's mind, etch itself in the worry lines between his eyebrows. "She's not... dead?"

"No. She's not dead. Nothing like that." Clark found himself embarrassed to have hijacked Howard's grief. "Really, I shouldn't have said anything." He tried to apologize, "I-I don't know why I-"

"No. No, I'm glad that you did." Howard scuffed a foot before looking up. "What you said. All that stuff. It was true. It was nice."

Howard's expression changed again. Softened. Clark could swear- it was practically a smile. "You should come tomorrow. Sandy bakes a mean pumpkin pie."

Clark smiled back. "So I've heard."

"So you should come."

"I can't." Clark gestured behind him, back into the room, at the sports bag on his table. "I'm going home."

Howard nodded and then held out his hand. "Have a good Christmas."

Clark took it. "You too."

Howard placed his hands into his pockets and rolled on his feet. "Sure I can't change your mind?"

Clark cracked a half-smile. "My mom bakes a mean pumpkin pie of her own. She'd be devastated if I cheated on it with someone else's."

"Well, we'll miss you. Especially Becky."

At Clark's clueless expression, Howard explained, "Well no-one else got a candleholder!"

Clark chuckled embarrassedly. "Ah."

Howard went to leave but then hesitated. "I don't know if I said? The End of Year Review." He looked up from the floor as a smile played on his lips. "It was really good."

--

Inside the car, nothing much had changed since the morning. Lois and Jimmy were still sat in position- Jimmy hugging himself listlessly, and Lois resting her head to one side. Their expressions were glazed over. They couldn't see much now- outside it was dark and what had started off as a gentle flurry of snow had worsened into a blizzard. Jimmy imagined his as an experience once shared by Scott of the Antarctic.

They had the radio on. They were playing requests again. Over the end of White Christmas, the DJ said, 'And this next one goes out to Marjorie over in Hackensack. From your loving husband Alan. Take it away, Paul.'

A familiar intro played. Then the singing started.

'The mood is right. The spirit's up. We're here tonight. And that's enough. Sim-ply hav-in' a wonderful christmastime! Sim-ply hav-in' a wonderful christmastime!'

Lois felt the skin just underneath the corner of her right eye twitch.

--

"And don't forget to feed the goat."

Martha breezed past with the bathroom scales under her arm. Clark picked up the small bowl of nibbles he was working his way through and got up off the armchair to follow her into the dining room. A small, neatly packed suitcase was lying wide open on the dining room table. Either side were piles of clothes and, here and there, a roll of film or pack of batteries. A Christmas aroma of cinnamon and mulled wine wafted in from the kitchen. It reminded Clark of all the other delights he was evidently going to miss this year. He leaned against the doorjamb, idly munching on a mixture of peanuts and raisins.

"I can't believe you're leaving me on my own."

Martha set the scales on the floor. "Stand on these, would you?"

Clark put down the bowl and stepped onto the scales. Martha read out, "Two twenty-four point four."

Frowning, she selected a cardigan from one of the piles, pressed it into the suitcase and zipped it up. "Are you losing weight? I hope you're looking after yourself over there?"

He watched her. "You're abandoning me. On Christmas Eve."

"I'm not abandoning you." She heaved the suitcase off the table for him to hold and took another reading. "Two seventy-nine point seven." Her eyes looked upward while her brain performed the mental arithmetic, "Umm."

"Fifty-five point three. Yes, you are." He hopped off the scales and gently laid the case back down on the table for her. "What's your limit?"

"Fifty pounds."

He went back to leaning in the door. "Your only son."

"I'm not abandoning you." Martha repeated in a tone that said, quit with the melodrama.

"What would you call it?"

"I'm taking a short holiday trip at the very last minute. Besides, you're not on your own." Martha pointed past him to the kitchen, to the dog basket. "You've got Shelby."

Shelby's ears pricked up. He and Clark looked at each other. If he had been human, Shelby would have shrugged.

Clark folded his arms. "I thought you guys were going away for Easter?"

"Hmm? Oh, we are." The knuckle of her index finger tapped against her top lip. "The question is; will I need a second pair of evening shoes?"

"You're going away for Christmas, AND you're going away for Easter? Again?"

Ignoring the attitude, Martha added, "Yes, and we're maybe going away for Valentine's Day, and we're definitely not here for July Fourth, either." She looked up and did a double-take. "Is there a problem with that?"

Clark was managing to look both taken aback and hurt. "What about the farm?"

Martha continued with repacking different combinations. "Yes, five hundred acres of corn that a pensioner with bad knees single-handedly takes care of on a year-round basis. I'm asking you to hold down the fort for a few days and walk a dog; I just don't know how in the world you'll ever cope." Remembering something, Martha stopped to point at him, "And don't forget to feed the goat."

With a black expression Clark rolled his shoulders. He chuntered away to himself, "Easter in Aruba, Christmas in Miami. Where are you going for July Fourth? Venice? Paris? Saint-Tropez?"

Martha fixed him with a warning glare. For a bit she carried on packing. Then she sniffed, and lightly said, "Metropolis, actually."

She could feel his eyes on her. "Metropolis."

"A weekend break."

Clark blinked. "In Metropolis?"

Martha explained defensively, "His daughter keeps throwing these discount deals at us, we don't get a lot of say in the whys and wherefores."

Clark huffed.

"Oh Clark. Will you grow up?"

"I just don't see why you couldn't have turned down Metropolis, of all places. And you know, if you want to see the world, you don't need travel agent freebies."

Martha put down the spare glasses case in her hand and turned to him. "Yes, I'm picturing the conversation now; 'Well, that's real thoughtful of her, Ben, but tell Chrissy; "No, thanks". See, we don't need those airline tickets. Not when my son is Superman and can fly us out there himself;'" she made jazz hands which Clark thought was a little unnecessary, "'Surprise!'"

They glared at each other with a matching pair of moody expressions. Without breaking eye contact, Clark softened first. "I'm thinking you're going to have to tell him eventually." He watched his mother sigh.

"Eventually, yes, I suppose I will have to tell him."

"I mean, all these vacations..." Clark looked down at the floor. "You guys seem pretty serious about each other."

Martha looked at Clark. "He's a good man. He's been good to me. You know that right?"

"Yeah, I know." Clark said lightly, shrugging it off, "That's why I'm saying."

She waited until he looked up again. "No-one will ever replace your father, Clark. No-one."

"Mom, I know." He smiled genuinely, and then couldn't help but wince, "But, Metropolis?"

Martha smiled back at him, practically beaming. "We're going to go right to the top of the Emperor Building; eat hotdogs; see a show!" Gently, she prodded, "You always said I should visit?"

He chuckled sadly. "I meant visit me."

"I didn't ask you to up sticks and move to Bali."

Wearily, he nodded 'yeah, yeah.'

"Anyway, why don't you come along?" Martha suggested brightly, "Be our tour guide for a day?"

"Chaperone you and Ben Hubbard on your romantic mini-break?" Clark reached for the bowl of nibbles again. "No offence, mom, but no thanks."

As innocently as she dared, Martha's voice tinkled, "Well, there's nothing to stop you from making it a romantic mini-break of your own?"

The handful of peanuts stopped midway to his mouth. He treated her to a growled "M-o-m" of warning.

Martha simply ignored him. "In fact, scratch that. Forget the mini-break part of it. Move back home permanently, drop down to your knees, beg forgiveness and get that girl proposed to and married before she comes to her senses completely and finds someone else."

Clark crunched away the nibbles and looked at his watch. "Five hours, thirty-six minutes, and twelve seconds until the Lois Lecture." He looked back up. "I believe that's a new record; congratulations."

Martha gave him an unrepentant shrug; worth a shot. With finality she flipped the suitcase shut, zipped it and buckled it. "Ben's going to be here any minute."

"What time's your flight?"

"Six thirty. Last one out."

"Need a ride to the airport?"

Martha glanced over. Clark mimed a steering wheel as if to clarify the non-super part of the offer.

"He's in a cab."

Clark nodded, scooping another handful from the bowl.

"You remember my second cousin Eleanor?"

Clark frowned. A memory of wearing his Sunday clothes and being shown around a dairy factory but not being able to have any ice cream floated up. And then, later, having afternoon tea in a big house that carried the whiff of mothballs and Miss Havisham. And still not being able to have any ice cream. "Vaguely."

"She was a martyr to her cause too. 'I don't need anyone' she used to say. 'Not when I've got my cows.'"

Clark watched his mother with a neutral expression.

"Now look at her. Old and sick and rich and alone."

"Know what this is?" Clark's knees bent and he stooped under the influence of an imaginary pressure. "Me; being crushed under the weight of that analogy of our uncannily similar parallel lives."

Martha lifted the suitcase off the table and set it down on the floor. She was quiet for a moment. "She sent me a card, you know."

Clark threw a raisin high into the air and caught it in his mouth. "Aunt Eleanor?"

A beat. "Lois."

Clark stopped what he was doing to look at his mother. "She sent a card?"

Martha nodded.

"Lois did?"

"It arrived a couple of days ago. With a pair of your glasses and a bundle of clothes they found at the bottom of an elevator shaft;" she tutted at his carelessness, "I mean really, Clark."

"She sent a card. Here?"

Martha sighed. "I know you two have your... own way of doing things. But. I hope you sent her something."

"Actually," Clark admitted, "I did." He rubbed at his elbow. "She should be getting it today."

--

Jimmy hesitated, taking his time to take it all in. He was a little overwhelmed. The Conference room had been cleared- the long table had been pushed to the side and was laden with food and drink. The space created had been turned into a dancefloor. There was a DJ and disco lights. There were people, lots of people. People dancing. And loud music. And people. It had been so long since he had seen this many people- all at once. Who were not Lois.

He headed straight for the food. He had just helped himself to a plate and napkin when someone slapped him on the back. "Hey, look who's here? Jimmay! You made it!" Richard shouted into his ear.

"Oh my God. Is that real Roquefort?"

Richard felt that Jimmy was eyeing the cheese board of leftovers with more desire than perhaps it deserved. But he had seen this kind of haunted expression before. He patted Jimmy's shoulder sympathetically, "Nice to break the stakeout take-out cycle of junk food, huh?"

"Mmm." Jimmy said, on the lookout for crackers and a knife, not really listening.

Richard faced back into the room. "Is, uh, Lois around?"

Jimmy jerked his head back vaguely towards the vending machines. "She went to try and get some feeling back into her hands."

Richard left Jimmy in peace at the buffet table. On his way out of the Conference room, he caught sight of her. She was in the corner, over by the screen projector, leaning against the wall. Her hands were wrapped around a large cup, but she wasn't drinking it- she was kind of snuggling it, watching the room. Richard saw that she still had tiny flakes of snow caught up in her hair. The thought came to him that he had never seen anyone looking so achingly beautiful and so sad.

Lois didn't see Richard until he was about ten feet away and emerging, mirage-like, out of a crowd of bodies. At first she didn't recognize him. Her eyes travelled to the top of his head- what with the antlers, he was quite a sight. And rather than walking towards her in a normal manner, he was swaying towards her, lip synching, in time with the music;

'Last Christmas, I gave you my heart but the very next day, you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears I'll give it to someone special.'

Lois chuckled, shaking her head at him. Such a spectacle could only be attributed, surely, to a healthy dose of the old Dutch courage; the man was clearly drunk.

And yet, the George Michael hip swinging kept time to the music pretty well. He wasn't half-bad.

When he was close enough to speak to her, he told her, "You're not dancing."

"No," she agreed.

"Come and dance with me."

Lois grinned delightedly, "Oh! Is that what you're doing?" She wiggled a finger at him, "I thought you might've been having some kind of fit."

Richard placed a hand to his heart and tried to look genuinely wounded. "A low blow." He offered his hand. "Come on."

Lois didn't move to take it. "Oh, I don't think so."

He held up a finger. "One dance- you owe me."

Her right eyebrow lifted. "I don't owe you anything."

"You lied to me."

"I didn't lie. About what?"

"Saturday night. You told me you were busy."

Lois clucked sadly, looking at the antlers, "You know. It's so hard to take a man's grievances seriously when he's wearing flashing reindeer lights on his head."

Richard carefully removed the hot drink from her hands and set it down. "C'mon."

Despite loud protestations Lois allowed herself to be pulled on to the dancefloor. And then she allowed Richard to take one of her hands in his and place his other hand at her waist. They danced. And the thing was, it was nice.

Richard bent closer. She could smell his aftershave and feel his breath on her ear. "It's okay, anyway. I forgive you."

Lois scowled but humored him anyway. "Forgive me for what?"

"Lying to me."

"I didn't lie to you. I was," she hesitated, "letting you down gently." She felt Richard chuckle. "Anyway, you didn't seem too broken up about it in the store."

"That's because I'm a gentleman and a master at disguising my bruised feelings."

"I see."

"Just call me Mr Sensitive."

"Right. Mr Sensitive, yeah. But I'm sure your date helped."

Richard leaned back to look at her. "Excuse me?"

"Mending the damage inflicted on your delicate sensibilities." Lois squinted at him, "All those bruised feelings."

They continued to move with the music. "My date?"

For a second, Lois was unsure of herself. "Yeah. The uh... woman."

Richard was regarding her with a strange expression on his face and for the first time in the conversation Lois felt uncomfortable. "That you were with. 'Richie'?"

Richard's expression cleared, a grin lighting his face. "Oooh, you mean my sister."

Lois stopped. Flatly, she said, "Your sister?"

Richard was intrigued. "I had a spare ticket. Felicity drew the short straw."

They started moving again. "Your sister." Lois looked peeved. "You might've made mention."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were so busy jumping to your erroneous little conclusions."

A little too fast Lois shot back, "I wasn't jumping to anything. I couldn't care less."

For a while they didn't say anything else. Richard let the air between them settle. "So, who's Miss Blodgett, anyway?"

There was no reaction. Lois said, "No-one. A friend of mine."

"She wears nice pajamas."

To her annoyance, Lois felt herself blush. Oh, this was definitely the Dutch courage. "She's got a pretty good right jab too, so I'd watch your step, Mr Sensitive."

"Although I have to admit. I had you down more as a negligée kind of girl."

Negligée! Lois was too shocked to laugh. She leaned back to stare at him. "Richard White. What on earth has gotten into you?"

"You."

All of a sudden, in the middle of the dancefloor, the easy, tingly, flirty part of the evening was gone. She felt the smile fade from her face. Richard was no longer smiling either. His eyes were dark. Lois said the first thing that came into her head. "We're right underneath some mistletoe."

Richard was watching her lips. "How about that?"

It was hard to tell, but she was almost certain he was about to lean in and kiss her. Before she could decide how she felt about that they broke apart because someone was calling her name.

"Lois!" Perry's face was intermittently visible between people's heads. Through the throng, he yelled, "My office!" He stepped away and returned again. "You too, Jimmy!"

Behind Lois and Richard, Jimmy drooped and let his plate of food lower, forlornly, back to the table.

--

They sat next to each other, side-by-side. It was a familiar experience. This time though they were not in Lois's car. They were in the open, empty space of an expensively furnished lobby. The lobby of the LexCorp Tower.

"Define irony."

"'Irony'," Lois said. "Something that's not quite steely, and not quite brassy. You know;" she bobbled her head, "kind of goldy."

Jimmy was looking around. "I can't believe we're in here."

"I know."

They lapsed into silence again. The same thing was on their minds but it was Jimmy who said the words.

"Do you think it's Luthor?"

They looked at each other. The honest answer was that Lois could not discount the possibility, however unlikely. So Luthor was awaiting trial- so what? Men like Luthor had minions. They always had minions. It was possible he was back in business. Maybe all the rumors were true; the mystery take-over wasn't a take-over at all. And yet... "I don't know," she replied honestly. "Calling up Perry? Requesting me specifically? The cloak-and-dagger stuff's got his fingerprints all over it but..." She nodded over to the entrance doors where a white-haired gentleman in a pressed suit had greeted their arrival and then disappeared, "A butler?"

Jimmy's eyes roamed the room. "Whoever they are, they must be rich."

"No kidding. I think that's a genuine Rothko."

Jimmy followed her gaze. She was looking at a very large painting that was mounted behind the empty reception desk opposite. The canvas was blue. On the canvas were three rectangles of slightly different tones. Which were also blue: that was the painting. As Jimmy squinted and turned his head to one side, Lois fidgeted with her fingers on her lips, thinking outloud. "The question is; why now? And on Christmas Eve?" She raised an eyebrow, "Whoever they are, you've got to admire their confidence."

Jimmy nodded. He checked the time on his phone again. "My mom is going to be so pissed."

Lois squeezed his forearm. "You should get going. You've gone above and beyond these last couple of weeks."

He looked back at her seriously. "I'm not leaving you."

Footsteps across the marble flooring heralded the reappearance of the man who had let them in. Out of the side of her mouth Lois whispered, "Uh-oh. Here comes Jeeves again."

Jeeves came to a halt before them and bowed slightly. "So sorry for the delay. My employer is almost ready to see you now."

Lois was unimpressed. An audience with the new proprietor of the LexCorp building; this was the scoop every last hack in the business would've killed for. But she'd been at this particular waiting game too long. They were being yanked around and it was starting to get very tiresome. "What do you mean 'almost ready'?"

"He's a very busy man, Miss Lane." The butler held his hand out in the direction he had just come. "Please."

Lois didn't move. "Our editor was told we were to be here as a matter of urgency."

The butler placed his hands behind his back. "Yes."

"We've been sat here twiddling our thumbs over an hour."

"Yes."

Enough was enough, exclusive or no. Lois rose to her feet to leave. "Come on, Jimmy."

Disarmingly swiftly, the butler moved slightly to his right, blocking Lois's path.

"Would you step out of the way please?"

"I'm afraid I can't."

Lois moved in closer. "Hey; Grandpops." One white eyebrow arched. Lois spoke very softly, "it's real easy. You get out of my way. Or I'll make you get out of my way."

Entirely unperturbed the butler allowed himself a pained smile. "Oh dear. I'm afraid I've not made myself very clear. I can assure you, my employer will be here imminently."

"Who's your employer?"

"If you would just come this way." Again, he held his hand out.

Lois narrowed her eyes. She made a decision to trust her instinct. She backed off, and the butler gave another small nod. When both Lois and Jimmy moved to follow his lead, the butler stopped.

"I'm sorry. Just Miss Lane."

Pulling himself up to his full 5' 7 Jimmy shook his head. "I don't think so."

Lois's mind was working. "Jimmy, it's okay."

"Lois-"

"I'll be alright."

They exchanged glances. Quietly, Jimmy said, "Are you sure?"

She flashed him a smile. "Get home." She rooted around in her purse for her car keys. When she pressed them into his hand she held him there. "I'll call you when I'm done. Promise."

"I'll be waiting back at the Planet. I'll come get you."

From the corridor in front of them, from the shadows, there was a deep voice. Jimmy recognized it from the television.

"That won't be necessary Mr Olsen. I'll make sure Miss Lane gets back safely. Personally."

The man stepped into the light. Jimmy gasped. "Whoa my gosh."

The owner of LexCorp Tower was stood hands in pockets, staring at Lois. "Hello, again."

Lois stared back. "Hello Bruce."

--

Bruce watched her while she applied the finishing touches to her note-taking. He noticed that she had a habit of chewing her lip when she concentrated. He peered over to see what she was writing.

"There's a 'U' in 'Entrepreneurial'."

"Thanks." Lois corrected the word and carried on scribbling.

"Before the 'R'."

She stopped, went back, corrected her spelling again. "Thanks."

"The other 'R.'"

She tweaked her head, deliberately drew a line across her aborted attempts and rewrote the word in full. She said thanks. This time with more edge and less gratitude.

"The other 'R.'"

Lois flipped the pad closed. "You know what? I'm going to finish these notes later." She went through the business of packing her things away. They were riding in the back of his limousine. They pulled up in some traffic. Christmas lights from the street outside shimmered, their soft glow playing on her face, reflecting fairy dust into the hazel of her eyes.

He must be crazy, Bruce thought.

She clicked off her dictaphone. "And now for my first question."

Bruce looked at the dictaphone in surprise. "I thought we just finished?"

"Those were the answers to the questions from the version of this meeting that my editor's actually going to be able to print."

"Ah."

"And now I want the truth."

Bruce nodded. "I see."

Lois smiled sweetly. "What are you doing here?"

Bruce's eyes shifted left and right. He looked at himself. "Right now?"

"In the city."

"Oh." He raised a hand. "It's a beautiful town."

Lois fixed him with a steady glare. "You hate Metropolis."

Bruce frowned, "Who told you that?"

"Clark."

He bobbed his head. "I don't 'hate' it." He picked his words, "It's just very... clean ...and ...shiny and," a tiny smile played on his lips and he looked at her, "...boring."

She asked again, "So what are you doing here?"

Bruce stretched his arms out in front of himself before re-lacing his fingers in his lap. He lifted his thumbs. "Well, it's like I explained in the interview Miss Lane. With the demise of the LexCorp business empire, I, and my associates at Wayne Enterprises, felt there was an opportunity for us to expand our reach into new areas. To utilize new markets. We're very pleased to announce the opening of our newest branch of the company, here, in your wonderful city."

Lois eyed him. "Is there, like, a special finishing school for superheroes? Or does the cagey evasiveness and prevarication just come naturally?"

He laughed. She waited pokerfaced and patient.

Bruce sucked in a breath. "Clark asked me to keep an eye on you."

Lois slapped a palm flat onto the armrest and stared out of the window. "I knew it."

"He worries about you."

"Yeah well. I guess we all have our crosses to bear." She moved her bottom jaw in annoyance before turning back to him. "All that time it was you. That takeover's been the talk of the town." She jutted a finger to gesture outside. "I just spent the last three weeks of my life staking out that stupid building. Do you have any idea how much time in a car that is? I've got three words for you; deep-veined thrombosis."

"That's actually one word and a hyphena-"

"Me and Jimmy were so bored we held themed games of Six Degrees of Separation! Themed! That's how bored we were."

Bruce looked sympathetic. "Yes. Just bad timing, I'm afraid. This is the first chance we've had to get up here since the sale went through. Time of the year, I guess." Lois looked unmoved. "But hey!" He flashed her a winning grin, "Jim Varney in Toy Story; not bad."

Lois almost said thanks. Then she blinked a couple times. "You bugged my car?"

"Please," Bruce scoffed. "It's just a simple microphone array. Rigged to cover a half-mile radius. It's standard for all Wayne Enterprise holdings." He leaned in to reassure her. "I'm a very busy man."

Lois was nearly speechless. "You bugged my car."

Bruce shrugged. "I was monitoring the situation."

"You bugged my car. Is that even legal?"

"You were spying on me."

"You were spying on me!"

"Yes," Bruce agreed with equanimity, "and I think there's a moral lesson in there for all of us. And anyway." He coughed. "You started it."

Lois shook her head. "How?"

"By sitting there on the world's least effective surveillance operation."

Lois gasped indignantly. "YOU started it by buying the building in the first place and being all secretive and mysterious. You want to know how I'm doing? How I'm getting along without him? Pick up a phone." She slumped back, arms folded. "I can't believe you bugged my car." After letting it all sink in a look of worry suddenly passed over her face. Slowly, she sat back up. "Wait. What else did you hear?"

Bruce held his palms out to her. "I know what you're thinking; Saturday morning, all by yourself, one thing led to another- Perry Como. But don't worry- these lips are sealed." He paused, clearly enjoying himself, and leaned in, "Although, as a point of interest, I might add that you have a lovely singing voice."

Darkly, Lois insisted, "There's nothing wrong with Perry Como. Winter Wonderland is a classic," even as her cheeks burned and she fervently hoped her a capella sing-along had been deleted from the digital record. By the look on Bruce's face she strongly suspected this was not the case. Jimmy wanted to talk about irony- she had been staking herself out!

Exasperated, outloud she wondered, "You bought an entire building? For me?"

By way of explanation, as if it was the kind of thing friends did for each other all the time, Bruce simply repeated, "Clark asked me to keep an eye on you."

On one level, Lois felt that she should be flattered. But somehow the idea of Clark exerting any kind of sphere of influence over her, indirectly or otherwise, all whilst maintaining this comfortable, polite, no-strings distance, was incredibly frustrating. Actually, it annoyed the hell out of her.

She sighed deeply. "What are you going to tell him?"

"What do you mean?"

"After this little meeting." She crossed her legs. "I assume you're going to be getting in touch? Reporting back?"

"We'll probably catch up sooner rather than later."

Lois gazed out the window. "When did you last see him?"

"Last Wednesday." Bruce watched her. "He dropped by the mansion on his way back from Metropolis."

Her head snapped back to face him. "He. He was here? On my birthday?"

Bruce cocked his head at her. "Do you remember what the weather was like last Wednesday?"

A line formed between her eyebrows as she thought about it. "Sunny."

"Do you know what it was like everywhere else?"

She shook her head that she didn't.

"It was miserable. In Gotham they issued a weather warning."

Lois was not really sure what he was getting at.

"Don't you think that was weird? A storm front right across the Eastern seaboard? Everywhere. Apart from right here in Metropolis?"

Lois's eyes clouded. "Clark did that?" Her head bowed while she fiddled with a button on her coat. "I didn't see him. I wasn't sure that he remembered."

Bruce rolled his eyes. Remembered? The man was a walking repository of Lois Lane information. He remembered everything. Every conversation, every argument, every habit and every quirk; every second he had ever spent with her. And he was able to recall it. In masochistically minute detail.

Lois forced a business tone back into her voice. "I guess he heard about the trial then?"

"Luthor?" Bruce nodded lightly. "He mentioned it." He picked something off his knee. "He was really more interested in how you are."

"And what did you say?"

"I told him I wanted to talk to you first."

"Well," she smiled, "here we are." Her eyebrows lifted. "Talking."

"Yes."

They had come full-circle. "So what are you going to tell him?"

Bruce studied her. "What would you like me to tell him?"

She turned back to the window. "That I've been asked out by, like, twenty different guys since he's been gone, and they've all been really good-looking."

"Okay."

"And that if he really wants to know how I am, he can come and ask me himself, instead of sending someone else to do his dirty work."

"Okay." Bruce ran his thumbnail along the line of his chin. "The part about the twenty guys. Is that true?"

One of Lois's shoulders lifted. "My next door neighbor invited me over for coffee last month."

Bruce nodded. "And is he good-looking?"

"He's eighty-seven years old." There was a pause. "And he's a she."

"Oh."

"Mrs Eckler. I looked after Misty while she visited her son."

"I see," said Bruce. "Misty?"

"Her cat."

"I see."

Lois nodded, still staring out the window. "She baked me a tub of cupcakes that spelled out 'Thankyou' when you lined them up."

"Oh, that's nice."

Lois shifted her body round to face him. "When you're relaying this conversation back to Clark, could you... edit this part out?"

Bruce solemnly inclined his head, closing his eyes. "Consider it done."

Lois went back to playing with the buttons on her coat. She chewed on a lip in preparation for asking the question she had wanted to ask ever since the lobby. "So," she said, giving in. "How is he?"

"He's..." Lois looked up expectantly. Bruce could only sigh, lift a hand- answer honestly, "Clark."

She nodded, her face falling a little. Beyond that she remained unreadable.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Softly, Bruce said, "Sure."

"Do you ...ever see yourself..." Lois hunched her shoulders and then let them drop, "settling down?"

"Settling down?"

"You know. Marriage. Kids. PTA meetings. The whole thing."

"Sure I do," Bruce answered confidently. "In my worst nightmares."

She gave him a withering look. Under it Bruce relented, "I suppose, I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it. Sometimes."

"I mean, it must be an issue for you, too."

"What must?"

Lois opened one hand, "This. Leading a normal life, wanting what other people have." She was quiet. "And then, having to deal with-"

"The other job?" They looked at each other. "I think, there's a balance to be struck."

She nodded but didn't say anything.

Bruce squinted. "It's different for him, you know."

Something passed across her face. "Is it?"

The car rolled to a stop. Bruce looked past her, and nodded. "We're here."

Together they stared out of the window. Snow was falling again. It fell lightly and unevenly now, wisps of white, taken by the breeze, catching the streetlight. Up the steps, across the plaza, the distinctive art deco edifice of the city's favorite newspaper disappeared up into the night.

"So. This is the world famous Daily Planet."

"Yup."

"You must be proud to work there."

Lois nodded. "Comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable since 1793."

"Wow, you look good for your age." Behind her, Bruce grinned.

She tsked but was grinning too. "I do. I am. It's a privilege."

"It's a magnificent building."

Lois turned her head to raise an eyebrow at him. "High praise from the man who now owns the city's most expensive piece of real estate."

Bruce pointed. "Did you know that the dimension of each window was determined by the size that could be most easily opened by a single office worker?"

Lois regarded him, smiling. "I didn't."

"The globe on the roof is a scale model of the Earth at a ratio of one to one million." Bruce took his eyes off the building to tell her, "Real glass." He continued, "It was designed by the architects to revolve on an axial tilt of twenty-three point five degrees, just like the Earth. It was only when the architects invited Howell up for the first official presentation that anyone noticed it was turning the wrong way. What?"

"Nothing." He saw something in her eyes flicker. "You just sound like Clark."

He grinned widely. "How do you think I know all this stuff?"

Bruce ducked his head to get a better view, straining his eyes upwards towards the top of the building. "And that's where you guys met, huh?"

Lois nodded. "Yeah." She smiled shyly. "Twice."

Bruce kept his eyes on her. "A site of historic importance."

She chuckled. "You're giving us waay too much credit- we report the news, we don't actually make it." Lois considered her words. "Well. Except for that time Jimmy tripped down the stairs on the Tonight Show. Did you see that? All over the internet. Apparently you can watch a version with lightsabers now."

"I meant that's where Clark first introduced Superman to the world- by saving you."

She gazed out the window. He heard her say, "I never thought about it like that."

Bruce licked his lips. "I know how much he enjoyed working there."

"Just not enough to stick around, I guess?"

For a few moments they were quiet. Then suddenly she stirred. She took a breath, and seemed to gather herself up. "Look, Bruce. When you see him. When you see him; just tell him... Could you just tell him..." Unable to continue, she stopped and only shook her head at herself instead. "Oh, nevermind." With her eyes cast down she sniffed and brushed her hand off her leg. "I don't know. Just make sure he's eating his vegetables."

"Oh, you reminded me!" Bruce remembered part of the reason he was here in the first place. Clark would've gone nuts. "There's a couple of things." His face took on a school teacherly expression. "I'm supposed to check that you're still not smoking?"

She dutifully produced her emergency pack of nicotine gum for him to see.

"Good. And," he turned behind himself to pick something off the seat, "he asked me to give you this. Merry Christmas."

He handed over a gift-wrapped box tied with an extravagant bow.

She rested it in her lap. "What is it?"

Bruce frowned at her. "It's a Christmas present."

Lois clucked, fingering the bow. "I feel like I've been ambushed. I didn't get him anything."

"He said if you said that, to say 'Happy Birthday! It's a late birthday present.'"

She paused. "I thought the blowing the clouds away thing was my birthday present?"

"Oh, I wasn't supposed to mention that."

"Do you know what it is?"

"Aren't you going to open it?"

She read her watch. "It's not Christmas yet."

Bruce threw her a sympathetic glance of understanding. "Oh, you're one of those people."

"I'm not one of those people- it's just not Christmas yet."

"Will you open it already? I'm the guest of honor at a Chamber of Commerce thing an hour ago."

Lois grumbled, but only as a matter of consistency. She peeled away the paper to reveal a new orange juice squeezer.

Watching her face, Bruce spoke softly. "He mentioned something about making sure you keep up your daily intake without him."

Lois was unable to keep the wobble out of her voice, "He's such a dork."

"You know, you two really are something."

She looked at him.

"'Is he eating his vegetables? She needs to drink more orange juice,'" Bruce smiled brightly, "you're so dweebily in synch with each other, it's adorable."

Lois was more sceptical. She picked at the edges of the wrapping. "We're compensating a passionate love affair by checking up on each other's dietary habits." She looked perturbed. "Have you ever known anything any more pathetic?"

Bruce shrugged. "I guess it's a fine line you both tread."

She smiled and collected everything together before putting her hand on the door handle. "Can I expect this little... drop-in to become a regular occurrence?"

He flashed that movie star grin again, "Missing me already?"

She waited for him to be serious.

Aware of sounding just this side of acceptably patronizing, he said, "I'll be visiting, from time to time. Just making sure you're okay. You lead a..." Bruce searched for a term that would adequately replace 'kind of accident-prone', "...above averagely busy... lifestyle."

"I guess I'll see you, then."

His eyes glinted. "Oh, I didn't say that."

She rolled her eyes as she stepped out onto the pavement; superheroes. Never a straight answer when something wry and dry could be enigmatically quipped instead. Maybe there was a finishing school?

She had not quite reached the first step before she heard Bruce shout her name. She turned to find him standing by the open car door. He called, "If you think he's coping any better than you; you're wrong."

The wind tugged at her coat and pulled at loose strands of her hair. A small smile appeared on her lips. She was grateful for what he was trying to do, but she failed to see the difference it made. "Bye, Bruce. And thanks." She lifted the box in her arms, "Merry Christmas."

Bruce watched her carefully mount the plaza steps. Alfred joined him.

"Grand-pops." Alfred pronounced the word carefully, his cutglass accent emphasizing his diction.

"I know. She's really something, right?"

Alfred's expression remained unchanged. "I trust Mister Kent knows what he's doing?"

Bruce stuck his hands in his pockets. "You know Clark."

"Yes," Alfred sighed with just the slightest tinge of regret. "That's what I thought."