East Side Slums, April 19, 1984. Rose had gotten called in by the temp agency that morning to do some secretarial work in a downtown office building and was now picking up some overtime, leaving Aaron and Leroy to fend for themselves for dinner. The Russell Insurance Company didn't last long after the February 9th repair shop fire that the arsonist set, and Aaron had to close the business' doors for good. The little office hadn't even been shut a day, and already the older man was working on the docks, moving crates in and out of one of the warehouses dotting the water's edge and keeping things organized for the owners there. The pay was sub-par but the work was steady, and with his wife's intermittent income they were able to get by.

Leroy came up behind his father just then, breaking the older man out of his private thoughts as he pushed some scrambled eggs onto the plate alongside a piece of buttered wheat bread toast. Aaron held up a hand to stop him once his plate was full, and Leroy maneuvered over to fill his own dish before putting the empty frying pan into the sink to wash when the meal was through. He sat back down and was about to dig in when he saw his father's aged hand move across the table.

He was pushing a ten dollar bill in his direction.

"Happy Birthday," Aaron said when Leroy finally looked up at him. He left the bill in front of his son, who made no move to take it. After what felt like half an hour Leroy reached a hand out to the money and pushed it back over to his father.

"I can't take that, Dad, it's just selfish. I can't and I won't take that money."

The older man tried to push it back in his son's direction but the boy remained firm. "Son, you're being unreasonable; now this is from your mother and me. We weren't sure what you wanted or needed for your birthday this year, so we thought we'd let you be the judge of that. Now go on, take it, take the money." He pushed the crumpled bill into Leroy's hand forcefully.

The boy looked at the green paper bill wadded up in his semi-clenched fist, then got up from the table and moved over to the mail sitting on a low stool beside the door. He picked up the envelope with the electricity company logo on it, then plunked that and the 10 next to his father before sitting back down in his seat.

"I need electricity to read, so use the money for that. And before you ask, yes that is what I want for my birthday." He shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth to halt any further argument.

Aaron stared at the money with watery eyes for several minutes, not trusting himself to speak. When he found his voice again he said, "You're a good man, Son…you're a good man."

Leroy looked over at his father and flashed him one of his genuine smiles before shaking his head. "Oh no, not yet Old Timer—you can tell me that next year, but not yet. I'm only seventeen, remember? Legally I'm still a kid, and even you can't get rid of this kid that easily," he replied, pointing to himself and winking.

Aaron laughed, the first free and easy laugh he'd uttered in months, and his son joined him. "Alright, fair enough, I'll hold onto the compliment for next year." He stared straight into his son's hazel eyes, marveling at him. "Seventeen already, I can't believe it…"

They resumed eating their meal silently, letting the love between them hang in the air but go unsaid.

Metropolis, May 8, 2009. "I'm sorry—could you say that again? I thought I heard you say…"

"I love you," Chloe finished for him.

"That's what I thought you said." Suddenly wide awake again, Jim blinked rapidly and stared at her, watching the small satisfied smile spread across her beautiful face.

She waited several long moments, hoping for his affection in return, but settled for watching the gears churn behind his expressive eyes as he processed her words. "What are you thinking?"

He regarded her carefully. "This isn't because I asked you to move in with me, is it? I mean—I don't want you to feel as though you're under some sort of obligation to say it, because I would really…"

"No, Jim." She snaked a slender arm around his waist, drawing herself even closer to him.

The young man just looked at her, dumbfounded. "Then why? I mean, why now? Chloe…I've loved you since our first date." he brought a broad hand up to gently stroke her cheek.

"Really?" she asked—the surprise in her voice genuine.

"Of course! Who couldn't know you and help but fall in love with you? I just didn't want to say it again and risk having it all come undone like it did after Haley was born. But why now? What prompted you to tell me this now?"

She grasped the hand he had cupped under her chin and kissed the palm. "A million little things that I was too afraid to look at closely before: how we can talk for hours and never seem to run out of things to say and how we enjoy the silences too; how you looked out for me when I had too much to drink without lording it over me; how you handled the news about my mother—holding me close instead of pushing me away; the way you would reach over and take my hand when we'd go walking as if it were the most natural thing in the world…"

"It is the most natural thing in the world…" he interjected.

She blushed prettily. "The way you always seem to know it's me on the telephone, even before I have a chance to say hello; how you trust me, even when I act craz—abnormally," she said, correcting herself. "How you cleared out two drawers in your bathroom cabinet without having been asked to do it."

His hand traveled down to Chloe's waist and he pulled her petite form flush against him. "So that's it then? You're telling me you love me because of some empty space in a medicine cabinet? If I had known that was all it took, I would've done it a long time ago," he replied huskily, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Oh you…" Jim leaned in and kissed her long and hard, denying her the chance to admonish him further. They stayed like that for quite some time before coming up for air.

"That was some kiss, Mr. Olsen," she gasped when they finally parted.

His face flushed with pride. "Why thank yo…whoa!" She pushed him flat on his back and climbed on top of him, kissing him anew before he could finish his sentence.

Metropolis, May 9, 2009, 10:45 AM. The telephone in the kitchen rang and Lois kept a close eye on the baby while she answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hi Lois. It's Chloe." The petite blonde sat up in bed, legs curled up in front of her and the thin blue sheet pulled up to cover her exposed collarbone.

"Oh hey! Listen, Clark's not here right now…he's taking care of that small tsunami that hit Japan, so I don't think he'll be able to make it back in time for brunch…" Jason zipped over to play peek-a-boo with Haley then, momentarily distracting Lois.

"Great!" Chloe exclaimed.

"I'm sorry? Did you just say 'great'?" she asked her friend incredulously.

"Um, yeah…sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. It's just that Jim and I…hey, stop that!" she hissed, trying to cover the mouthpiece of the phone while swatting her boyfriend away as he playfully nibbled on her shoulder.

"Stop what?" Lois asked obliviously.

"Sorry," Chloe fixed him with a mock-glare as she returned her attention to her friend. "I didn't mean you—I meant Jim." Both women paused as Lois slowly realized what was going on.

"OH! Oh my God, ok, um…don't worry about it! You know, we can always have brunch another time now that you're in Metropolis…" the normally unflappable reporter squeaked, torn between happiness for her friends and her own undying curiosity.

Jim now had his hands around her waist and was lightly planting kisses along her exposed spine. "Ok, yeah, great, another time…bye!" Chloe hurriedly hung up the phone and turned to her boyfriend. "Way to make that awkward, Jim!" she said, glaring at him while grinning at the same time.

"Me? What did I do?" he asked innocently while making doe-eyes at his girlfriend.

"You know what you did…"

"Hmm, well I guess you'll just have to teach me a lesson, now won't you?" he asked, his mouth hungrily colliding with hers before she could even reply.

Lois' face was flush with embarrassment as she hung up the phone. "Are you ok, Mom?" Jason asked, breaking her out of her reverie.

"What makes you say that, Honey?"

"Because you're making the face like Haley does before she makes a stinky diaper," he answered her seriously.

The young mother fairly shook with laughter at her son's keen observation. "I'm fine, Honey. Tell you what—how about you and I get your sister ready and we'll have an early lunch before heading to the park to play some more? Hopefully your Dad will be back by then…"

Soft brown hair flopped around his ears as the little boy nodded his head happily and obediently followed his mother and baby sister out of the room.

Daily Planet, May 11, 2009, 9:03 AM. "Hey Clark! Did you have a nice weekend?" Jimmy called out as he strode through the bullpen, positively beaming.

Clark sat back in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. I had a weekend? Book-ending the tsunami were a seemingly unending parade of robberies, car accidents and other natural disasters that kept him moving constantly around the globe. He was able to stop at home late Saturday night to catch up with Lois, and he remembered spending part of Sunday afternoon playing with Jason and Haley; however, the rest of that time was just a big red, blue and yellow blur.

"Um, yeah, it was a-alright. Too short. How w-was yours?"

"Oh, you know…same old, same old," he replied, smirking. Clark noted the alarming jump in his friend's heart rate, but, after hearing about his wife's strange phone call, he knew well enough to leave it alone.

"Olsen! Kent! My office, now!" Perry bellowed.

"And yet another work week begins," Clark muttered under his breath, sighing as he hefted his large frame out of the chair and fell into step behind Jimmy.

"We've got another body in the Ladykiller case," the Chief barked before they'd even had a chance to take their seats. "There's no time to sit—they just found it in an alley off Glendale Avenue and Morrow Road, and rumor has it they've got a witness." At this news, Clark and Jimmy just stared at one another; this was the break in the case they'd been waiting for. "Well, what are you two doing standing around here?! Get going!!" Both men scrambled out of the office to collect their things.

Clark wracked his brain for an excuse to get away from Jimmy and allow his alter ego to arrive at the crime scene earlier. He caught sight of the corner his briefcase poking out from under the desk and promptly kicked it out of sight. "Uh, Jimmy? I forgot my briefcase at the apartment…you go on ahead, I'm going to swing by there and grab it. I'll meet you there."

"You sure? 'Cause I don't mind running over there with you and waiting…"

"No! I mean—no, it's alright, I'll catch up with you at the scene."

"Ok, if you say so," and with that the young photographer reluctantly left the bullpen, a multitude of camera implements in tow.

Clark waited until his friend was out of sight, then collected his case and dashed toward the stairwell, super-speeding up to the roof unobserved.

Superman touched down gently behind a group of Metropolis Police officers at the site before Jimmy even left the Planet building. "I understand there's been another victim in the Ladykiller case, Lt. Henrickson," his deep, baritone voice startled the older policeman.

Al spun on his heel, his hand reflexively covering his barrel chest as he tried to bring his heart rate under control. "We really need to put a bell on you…" he muttered under his breath, before loudly adding, "Yes, and it's fresh. The M.E. said that, based on the liver temperature and lack of rigor mortis that the victim has been dead only three to four hours." The Lieutenant and the Man of Steel both strode over to examine the crumpled form propped against the wall.

"Has the victim been identified yet?"

"No—the wallet was missing, and he doesn't match any of the current missing persons reports on file. Of course, we don't normally take those until the person has been gone for twenty-four hours or more. If the perp's M.O. is the same, then this guy hasn't even been gone for twelve yet. We'll probably have an ID later today."

Superman nodded his head solemnly, his thick eyebrows nearly furrowed together in thought; he then looked around at the apartment windows overlooking the alley. "Where's the witness?"

"Can't put anything past you, can we? It's Hank O'Rourke, up in 4E. He used to be one of us actually; retired about two years ago from the Force. Anyways, said he heard a noise in the alley from his open window there," the Lieutenant pointed toward an open window a few stories up and the superhero heard voices coming from within. "He thought it might have been an animal poking around for food. When the noise didn't stop, he finally stuck his head out the window to chase the thing away; only, instead of a cat, he saw legs sticking out between the dumpsters and a light gray van speeding off onto the main road. He called us pronto and we've been here about thirty or forty minutes. In our estimates, the killer was here about an hour, hour and a half ago."

He nodded before drifting up toward the open window. Brushing the blue gingham curtains away from the sill and found Hank O'Rourke sitting in a well worn kitchen chair. The wiry, old man had a mass of white hair and a pair of coke-bottle glasses balanced precariously on his nose. A young officer sat with him, asking him several questions.

The Man of Steel cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Mr. O'Rourke, but did you happen to notice any distinguishing marks on the van? Anything that might help readily identify it?"

The old man turned in his chair and his bushy eyebrows disappeared into his shaggy hairline at the sight of the Man of Steel hovering outside his fourth story window. Ever the professional, however, he quickly regained his composure. "No, Son—I didn't…but as you can probably tell, I can't see very well without my glasses and I didn't have them on earlier. I think the last letter on the license plate might have been an 'H', but I'm not sure—I'm sorry it's not more."

"It's better then nothing, Sir. Thank you for your help."

Superman set his strong jaw in determination and took off into the blue skies above Metropolis. He hovered just below the clouds, scanning the main thoroughfares of the City for every available gray van; he knew he wouldn't have much luck since the killer easily had an hour or more head-start. Twenty minutes later he returned to the scene, catching sight of Jimmy behind his camera lens, snapping away alongside other local reporters at the edge of the police barricade.

"Any luck?" Al called out as his friend floated back down to Earth.

"No. Whoever it was is long gone, but at least we know that they're in the City somewhere."

"Oh yeah? How do you figure that?"

"Well, with rush hour traffic, it would've been extremely difficult for this individual to get in and out of Metropolis as quickly as he did without us catching him; that is if he were coming from one of the outlying suburbs. Therefore, the perp must still be within the city limits, possibly hiding out in an underground parking garage; a lot of those still use lead-based paints, so the killer would have known that I wouldn't be able to find them."

Al nodded again, his creased face grim at the sight of another young man cut down in his prime, an 'X' scratched prominently over his heart. "Right, well I'll put an APB out on the van; we'll see if one of the uniforms can't pick it up."

"Sounds good," Clark leaned in, practically whispering into Al's ear. "I'm going to go get changed, but I'll be right back…do you think you might be able to give me some quotes?" His friend responded with a cocked eyebrow and a rascally smirk; Superman leapt into the sky, but not before posing such that Jimmy could capture several shots of a pensive-looking Man of Steel for Perry.

A few seconds later, Clark Kent darted around the corner, briefcase clutched in one hand as he struggled to find his steno pad with the other. "Hey Jimmy, what'd I miss?" he asked casually, finally pulling the notebook free and grabbing a pen from his breast pocket.

"Well, Superman was just here. It looked to me like he'd been here earlier before going off somewhere. Then he came back and was talking to that guy over there," Jimmy pointed at a smug-looking Lt. Henrickson, "so maybe he can give you some answers for the article. I'm going to go see if I can't take a few more photos—I got some great ones of Superman, but I want to cover all my bases for the Chief."

"Sounds good." Clark watched the photographer deftly weave his way through the ever-growing press contingent. "Lieutenant! Lieutenant!" he called out in his high-pitched voice, waving his pen in the air. Al looked over and caught his eye, another mischievous smirk crossing his face as he strode toward the tall reporter.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Kent?" he asked.

Clark launched into a quick question and answer session with Al before collecting Jimmy for the return trip to the Planet. "I think we have enough for now; the police still don't know the identity of the victim, but I'll follow up on that this afternoon."

"Whatever you say, CK," Jimmy replied, meticulously placing his camera back in its case before stepping over to the curb. "Taxi!!"

The rest of the work day dragged by; Clark got a phone call that afternoon from Al, stating that the latest victim was Francis McGowan and that he had his own up-and-coming publishing company. Jimmy printed up his photos, receiving a back-handed compliment from the Chief for his snapshots of Superman. In the late afternoon, Jimmy followed Clark to the nearby bars to see if anyone recalled seeing the victim the previous evening. When they met with little success, each man agreed to call it a day and head home.

Clark stumbled through his front door completely exhausted and utterly frustrated. The killer already had five notches on his belt and neither Superman nor the authorities were any closer to uncovering him then when they'd started; not only that, but Clark surmised that the world was now making up for the relative lull in criminal activity that had occurred shortly after Haley's birth, as his alter-ego was now constantly on the go.

"Hey Honey," Lois greeted him, the baby cradled against her chest; she leaned into him expectantly, waiting for her kiss.

"Hi." He gave her a quick peck before shuffling over to the armchair, dumping his briefcase on the floor as he collapsed into the seat's soft folds.

"Long day?"

"Long three days," he muttered, pushing his glasses up into his hair and rubbing his tired eyes with one hand.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "I know, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Jason zipped into the room and right into his father's lap. "Dad, you're home!" the little boy exclaimed, throwing his arms around Clark's neck. "I missed you!"

He wrapped his arms around his son. "I missed you too, Bud." Turning to Lois, he added, "Thanks, Sweetheart, but I think this is just what I needed right now." She gave him a small smile, kissing the top of his head, while his lips grazed Haley's soft baby hair in return.

The first thing Jim did when he returned to his apartment was put a pot of coffee on for Chloe; once the coffee was percolating he pulled his laptop from its bag and booted it up, re-examining the crime scene photos he'd taken earlier in the day and searching for any possible clues. He pulled up the print the Chief had decided to use with Clark's article the following day; in the foreground was the blurry, yellow police tape—in the background several grim-looking officers stood in a circle talking, next to the body that had yet to be bagged and taken away. All that could be seen of the victim were his black, pant-clad legs, which protruded ominously from behind a few garbage bags. Jim blew it up so it engulfed the whole computer screen; he felt that there was something there, something vital to the case, and yet he couldn't quite place his finger on it. The coffee settled in the pot; he closed the open folder on his laptop, getting up to pour a cup for himself and his girlfriend.

A key turned in the front door and it swung open to reveal a tired looking Chloe. She immediately dropped her briefcase the minute she set foot in the apartment and made a beeline for the steaming mug placed on the end of the table closest to her.

"Thank God, coffee!" she inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma, without a word of greeting to her boyfriend.

"You're welcome," he replied, sitting down at the table and waiting for her to do the same. She joined him only after downing half the cup. "Long day?"

"The longest. I mean, I like hitting the ground running and all, but even I was overwhelmed. I met with so many new people, then I had to set up my desk, and before I was even halfway done, I was handed my first assignment; they want me to interview Isabelle Nonte about her East Side Slum revitalization project. The meeting is set up for Thursday, so I had to start doing all this research on her, and…"

"Isn't she that heiress…?

"Don't call her an heiress, Jim; it sounds like you're lumping her in with the likes of that air-head, Milan Milton; from what I've been able to gather about her, it sounds like Miss Nonte actually uses her brain. Good thing too—it's nice to see her putting her Ivy League education to good use."

He nodded in agreement. "I remember Clark and Lois talking about her a few months back…it sounded like she'd been lobbying the City councilmen to improve the area in and around the Slums—Lois said she said she claimed to want to 'give the people a hand up, not a hand out, and help Metropolis grow'. Wasn't it something like 10 million dollars that she was willing to donate to the project if the City agreed to match it?"

Chloe nodded. "And therein lies the problem; from what I've been able to find out so far, the councilmen don't want to allocate those kinds of funds for a section of town that they feel is so impoverished that they believe it to be beyond repair—obviously they're not saying that outright, but it's written all over their faces whenever the situation is brought up at council meetings. Isabelle Nonte obviously feels otherwise, and seeing as how she's the sole heir to her family's fortune, it'd be a great use for the money."

"It also sounds like a great first assignment for you."

She took another sip of her coffee then put it down. "It is…I only hope I don't screw it up."

Jimmy smiled at her and reached out a hand, placing it lovingly over hers. "I know you, you won't…but still, is there anything I can do to help?"

She smiled gratefully at him before holding her nearly empty mug aloft. "This helps," she sighed; she gently pulled her hand from beneath his and lovingly traced slow circles on the back of his hand, "And this…this helps too."