A/N: Look mommy! No hands! Or rather… no beta. The lovely LostSchizophrenic is off on vacation, and I didn't want to leave you hanging. Let me know if you find anything amiss with the sppelign ;), or anything else, for that matter. And thanks to htbthomas for the help.

Oh, and check out my profile. I put up two delicious links for your pleasure.

Chapter 10: Forced Allies

Superman had felt like this twice before in his life. The bullet in his chest was made out of kryptonite. There was no doubt about it.

The last time it had happened, a small splinter had been stuck in his side. Charged with solar energy, Superman had been able to ignore it for the few minutes it had taken him to lift Luthor's kryptonite-seeded landmass out of Earth's orbit. After that, the radiation even from that tiny fragment had been enough to overtake him. Then, he had been content with the knowledge that the world had been saved, and he had been willing to accept death. He had come back only after learning that he had a son.

The time before had been when Luthor had stabbed him. A large piece of the kryptonite dagger had still been inside him when he had dropped into the water. On that occasion, Luthor had been about to win, and the fate of billions of people had been doomed. Superman had fought against death with everything he had had. But it hadn't been enough. He would have died if it hadn't been for Lois coming back for him.

This time, no-one was coming. Lois and Jason had been taken away. And Lois was injured. Superman had scanned her before she had been snatched out of his arms. She suffered no arterial damage. She would survive this injury. But Superman had no doubt that she was in a great deal of pain. And she was definitely in danger. The same was true for Jason.

This time, Superman would have to find a way to survive. He had to live in order to save them.

Superman's eyelids were heavy. Heavier than any asteroid he'd pushed out of Earth's orbit. But he couldn't let them drop. He knew for certain that if he would allow his eyes to close, he would never open them again.

Superman tried to take a deep breath to collect himself, but it only made things worse. A sharp pain pierced through him, and he coughed up blood. He took another breath, gingerly, and listened to the hiss of air. His left lung was punctured. At least it wasn't his heart. Superman could hold his breath for over an hour. It had only been a few minutes since he had been shot and Lois and Jason had been taken, even though it seemed like an eternity.

The thing that worried Superman the most was the regenerative ability of his body. The kryptonite was slowing it down, but eventually the wound would close, and if it did, the bullet would be trapped in his lung with no plausible way of getting it out. It had to come out now.

Grinding his teeth, Superman pushed himself up. He stood on all fours, and then on his knees, and eventually managed to stand up on unsteady legs. He staggered towards the bathroom, tore the mirror off the wall, and unceremoniously collapsed to the bathmat.

Superman tried to stabilise himself again, but it was pointless. He had to fight just to remain conscious. The kryptonite was draining all his energy from within, and the pain was unbearable. Superman was not used to feeling pain, and didn't have to deal with it on a daily basis. This experience, while not entirely new to him, was something he hadn't had much training for.

In lack of any other alternative, Superman leaned the mirror against the wall and rolled on his side to review the damage. The hole in his suit was too tiny to allow him to see anything, and his X-Ray vision passed straight through the mirror, reflecting nothing. Using what was left of his heat vision, Superman tore a bigger hole in the suit. He could see the reflection of the entry wound now, but the bullet was too deep to detect. Then again, he didn't need to see it. He could feel the green poison pulsating with every beat of his heart.

Superman looked around for something long and sharp to help him extract the bullet. The only thing in his reach was Lois's toothbrush. He knew Lois was very strict about her toothbrush, but she would have to forgive him this time. If they survived this, he would buy her a new one.

Tightening his jaw, Superman pushed the handle of the toothbrush into the wound. He couldn't help the pained cry that escaped his lips, but he also didn't stop. He could feel the plastic scraping against the solid bullet stuck in his flesh. He tried to push it forwards with the plastic edge, just by feeling it. The mirror was useless at this stage, which was good, because he could no longer support himself on his side. He dropped to his back, his head tilted backwards, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

The bullet kept slipping away from the smooth edge of the brush. Superman's hand was getting numb, and he was beginning to lose feeling in it. Soon, he wouldn't be able to tell if he was touching the bullet at all.

There was only one thing left to do. Superman held the brush straight, making sure it was aligned with the edge of the bullet. This time he allowed his eyes to shut. With a mighty thrust, giving it every bit of power that was left in him, Superman pushed the bullet into the healthy part of his lung, through his back, and out of his body.

Superman heard a rib crack and knew he had been successful in extracting the bullet. He could feel the kryptonite burning the skin on his back. He knew he only needed to shake it out of his shirt and move a few feet away, but his muscles rebelled against his attempt to make them move. Complete silence fell over him like a thick blanket, and his eyes remained closed as his numb hand fell to his side, still holding Lois's toothbrush.

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Richard was worried. He had tried calling Lois to tell her that he would need to switch days with her, keeping Jason. Perry was sending him out of town for three days. But Lois hadn't answered her phone, even long after Jason's bed-time. She was always so adamant about putting Jason to bed on time. It wasn't like her not to be home, or at least have a sitter staying with Jason. She wasn't answering her mobile either. Given Lois's record, Richard was worried.

Even though half the city was blocked with emergency crews, and despite the unforeseen storm that was raging over Metropolis, Richard decided to stop by Lois's house on his way home from his night shift at the Planet. It was a half hour drive out of his way, but Richard had a bad feeling that this would be the least of his worries. For all he knew, Lois and Jason could be trapped in any one of the twelve explosions that had taken over the city.

And where was Superman when they needed him? He was good at pushing things out of orbit, especially people, like Lois, but when it came to little things… no, he had to admit Superman was good at handling smaller scaled crisis situations as well. Then it hit him. Superman had left after the first explosion, and Lois was missing… Something terrible must has happened. Richard pushed the accelerator paddle down.

The door to the house was open. That couldn't have been a good sign. Carefully, Richard moved into the house. It was empty, and there were definite signs of struggle in the living-room. The table was turned over, a new one, Richard noticed, and so were two of the chairs. There were shreds of rope on the floor and next to them, to his horror, was a puddle of blood.

A trail of blood led from the living-room to the bathroom. Richard followed it, forgetting about caution. He pushed open the bathroom door and rushed inside. The man he saw lying sprawled on the floor was not who he had expected to see.

"Superman!" Richard darted towards him. Superman was lying on his back in a pool of blood. His cape was burned up to his shoulder-blades, and his shirt was torn over the chest. Through the hole Richard could see a partially-healed wound. There were blood stains on the sink and on the mirror, which lay beside him. In his hand was a bloodied toothbrush.

Richard wondered if Superman had somehow been stabbed with the toothbrush, but immediately dismissed the thought. The only thing that could hurt Superman was kryptonite. And if Superman was still unconscious on the floor, it meant that the kryptonite was still around. Richard didn't even dare think that Superman was anything but unconscious.

Richard began looking frantically for any sign of green on Superman, but he couldn't find any. It was probably hidden somewhere he couldn't see through the clothes. He lifted Superman's shoulders up from the floor and tried to tug at his shirt. He had done this with Jason a thousand times before, but Superman was much heavier, and he was forced to stick his thigh under the massive back to allow the shirt to come off.

As Richard pulled the tight cloth away from Superman's back, a small green cylinder fell to the bathmat. Richard picked it up and dropped Superman back to the floor. The green cylinder was definitely kryptonite. He stepped out into the living-room and flung it out the window, deep into the river. The strange storm was finally over, and a red hue was hung low over the horizon. There was still a strong smell of smoke in the air.

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Superman opened his eyes and heaved himself up onto his elbows. He still felt extremely week, and there was a dull pain in his chest, but the searing pain in his back was gone. The kryptonite was gone. He looked around, struggling to focus his eyes, and saw Richard.

"Did you remove the kryptonite?" Superman asked.

"Yes," Richard said. There was no sympathy in his voice.

"Thank you," Superman said. He used the bathtub to pull himself up to a sitting position.

"Where're Jason and Lois?" Richard asked.

"Kidnapped," Superman said curtly. "Luthor." His speech was slightly slurred. Every syllable was a struggle. There wasn't enough air in his lungs to utter the words. He pulled himself further up to his feet, his vision slowly returning. Through the bathroom wall he could see the sun rising, and was glad he wouldn't have to fly far to reach its healing rays.

"And you let him?" Richard spat at him.

Superman hung his head. "I'll get them back."

"How?" Richard asked. "By getting shot again? Luthor's got kryptonite bullets." His voice lowered a notch. "I should come with you."

"You too can be shot," Superman said, slightly shaking his head.

"At least I don't faint just from seeing the bullets," Richard retorted.

Superman paused for a moment and then said: "You're right." He walked through the bathroom door and towards the window, leaning against the wall for support. If he was going to carry someone with him, he first needed to get his strength back.

"What's wrong with you?" Richard shouted. "I just took a swing at you and all you can say is I'm right? Don't you ever hit back?"

"You're just upset," Superman said.

"Don't patronise me!" Richard said. "Or… do you feel sorry for me, because after five years, all it took you were three days to take Lois away?"

"I didn't take her from you," Superman said. "She is old enough to make her own choices."

"And she just happened to chose you?" Richard asked rhetorically. "You had nothing to do with it." He moved towards Superman, as if ready to punch him. "You're not together?"

"We're not."

Richard was taken aback. "Then… what? Why?" he asked.

"Look at the danger she's in just because Luthor thinks I have feelings for her," Superman said. "Imagine what would happen if we actually were involved."

"So you're not with her because you want to protect her? By not being there for her?"

The way Richard said it made it sound stupid. But then, there was also the fact he could not be with a mortal. Of course, he couldn't tell that to Richard. All he could say, while it was tearing him from inside was: "I'd rather see her with you."

"So would I," Richard said.

Superman took the last few steps towards the window. He pushed away the curtains and then stopped short.

"What is it?" Richard asked. His voice was sober again.

"A message from Luthor," Superman said. "Written in ultraviolet ink. It reads: Superman, if you're still alive, you'll find –" He paused. The message said "Your family", but Superman thought it would be too cruel to read these words to Richard. He went on, altering the wording a little. "Lois and Jason at the same place we last met. It's signed, you know who."

"Let's go," Richard said. He took Superman's hand in his, ready to be carried into the sky.

"I can't," Superman said, gently removing his hand from Richard's grip. "I need to heal first, and I think we'll need help from someone else as well."

"Who?" Richard said. "Why?"

Superman breathed deeply, feeling the cold morning air burn his wounded lung. He knew Richard was not going to take this well. "Lois was shot, too," he said. "And Jason has a… an allergic reaction. I want his doctor to join us, to treat them as soon as we reach them."

"Shot!" Richard shouted. He raised his right hand, his fingers closed to a tight fist, and then dropped it. "Go," he said. "Go get Crispin. I'll meet you back at my house. I think I have a plan."

Without another word Superman flew out the window. Richard went out the door and into his car. He slammed his fists several times into the stirring wheel before finally starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway.

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Finding Dr Crispin was not a problem. Within fifteen minutes of leaving Lois's house Superman managed to recharge himself to full strength, fly by his apartment to change his burnt, torn and bloodied suit, and find Dr Crispin sleeping comfortably in a hotel in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, his hand wrapped around the waist of a young blonde, and several minibar bottles of liquor scattered on the floor and on the bed around them. Convincing Dr Crispin to help him was a whole other matter.

Superman didn't think there was time for explanations and awkward goodbyes. In the case of that blonde, he assumed it would also be a reintroduction. Flying in through the open window he grabbed the sleeping figure of Dr Crispin and soared back into the pale early morning sky.

Superman hoped that Dr Crispin was drunk enough to sleep through the entire way back to Metropolis, where he would explain everything in the calm of Richard's house, but he had no such luck. Dr Crispin began to stir when they were over Richmond, and immediately started screaming.

All of Superman's attempts to calm him down while they were still in the air proved futile. Eventually Superman took them both down to a landing by a lake in upstate Pennsylvania. "Please, calm down," he said.

Finally the screams stopped and were replaced with shouts. "You kidnapped me!" Dr Crispin yelled. "You can't kidnap people! You're supposed to be one of the good guys!"

"I am," Superman tried to say, but his deep voice was drowned down by Dr Crispin's outburst.

"Take me back! No! Don't take me back! I don't want to fly! Are you out of your mind! Why did you take me away? I had such a good hideout with er… with…"

Trying to remember the name of the blonde with whom he'd spent the night allowed Superman to say something at long last. "I need your help, and you won't have to hide anymore after that."

"Why not?" Dr Crispin asked. "If I help you, you'll tell Luthor you're not me? Fat lot of good that'll do."

"Better," Superman said. "He'll see us together."

Dr Crispin considered it for a moment and then turned completely hysterical. "You want to take me to Luthor! You are out of your mind!" He turned his back to Superman and began to march away.

"It's over a hundred miles to the nearest city," Superman said. His deep baritone carried over the morning breeze. "Let me give you a lift."

Dr Crispin paused. "You are not going to use this to take me to Luthor against my will," he said.

"You can't help me unless you want to," Superman said. "If I just wanted to take you to Luthor, you really think you could have stopped me?"

"Good point," Dr Crispin said. He walked back to Superman. "All right, take me to the nearest hotel. But make it a nice one. At least four stars. No, wait. Make it five. I had a rough morning."

Superman stifled a snicker. He still hoped to convince Dr Crispin to join him, but to do that he needed some leverage, and he couldn't appear to be laughing at him. He grabbed the shivering, agitated man by the armpits and soared into the sky. A few light clouds drifted beneath them as they glided north. After a minute of flying, Superman spotted the leverage he'd been looking for. He landed in the middle of a sorority after-party and took a few steps away from Dr Crispin, as if only now approaching him.

"Dr Crispin, please, I need your help," Superman said, his rich baritone carrying over the heads of the sorority girls. While his words were imploring, Superman kept a proud posture and a grave, deep tone of voice.

A few of the girls around them squealed and jumped on both men. The others were alerted by the commotion and joined the growing circle of young girls. mostly clad in bikini swim-suits.

"Superman needs you?" One of the girls asked Dr Crispin. Her friends immediately followed suit. "How do you know Superman?" "Do you help him a lot?" "Are you married" "You're so brave!"

Dr Crispin raised his hands to stop the flow of questions, while not doing a thing to move away from the young bodies around him. "Yes," he said. "Superman and I go a long way back. Sometimes I help him with things he can't do on his own. After all, he's only human, aren't you, buddy?"

"Kryptonian," Superman said, but he couldn't wipe the amused smile off his face. "Does that mean you'll help me – this time?"

"Of course I will," Dr Crispin said. "After all, we can't allow all these lovely ladies to die a horrible death. Got to save the world." He sighed. "Again."

Superman raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He agilely evaded the girls who were trying to grip him, swept Dr Crispin into the air and resumed course towards Metropolis at high speed.

"You'll take me back to them once we're done, right?" Dr Crispin asked while they were high over the clouds.

"Of course I will," Superman said, echoing Dr Crispin's words from just a moment before.

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A/N 2: I feel I should explain why I made Richard behave the way he did. When faced with a life-and-death situation, there are three stereotypical reactions – the three 'F's: Fight, Flight, or Fright (Freeze). These have nothing to do with what a person may think is right. It's only a matter of how the person's body and mind react to a sudden surge of adrenalin. The thinking part comes much later. You can never know which of the three you are, until faced with a life-and-death situation (hopefully, none of you ever will find that out). Richard has proven to be the 'Fight' kind of guy, which is why I believe any thought, any hostility he may harbour, will be overshadowed in case of an emergency, and will only surface later. Hope this explains things.

A/N 3: Ok, I researched this topic long and hard on the net, and came up short (you should appreciate it, because the chapter was delayed three days because of it). The piece of kryptonite they removed from Superman's body at the hospital: did it come from the growing crystals of the continent, or was it a residual part of Luthor's kryptonite dagger? I finally went with the continent-borne approach, because it seems unbelievable to me that Superman would make such a quick recovery and then go on to tackle a mini-continent with a piece of kryptonite still in his body. I hope this doesn't jar those of you who go for the 'residual piece' approach. But, hey, hit that 'review' button and let me know what you think.

A/N 4: Again, you guys rock! I apologise for giving you such a mind blowing ending to the previous chapter. To my defence, I kept my promise to update quickly. And yes, every review gave me a little more incentive to write into the wee hours of the morning (Don't worry, I enjoyed myself). So, thanks!