Most people lie Lois said. That didn't make them bad, it just made them human. Full disclosure just wasn't possible in day to day life. So people told little lies, to protect themselves, to protect others, to make things easier. She told him this a week after his arrival at the Planet because he was having trouble in his interviews. Facts didn't seem to tie up and he didn't understand why. So Lois had sat him down and given him another of her journalistic gems. At first he suspected she was just being glib but when he'd seen she wasn't, he was disturbed.

He tried to believe people were basically truthful. He had raised this objection and she had shaken her head saying,

"Being truly honest is terrifying Smallville, so everyone lies. Even you." And she had given him this look, a knowing, wary look that said she had him all sussed out. That was when he had realised that she had never really been fooled by all the bad excuses and ridiculous stories he had always come up with to explain himself. But then she did something unexpectedly generous. She turned her chair round and put her feet up on her desk, giving him a lop-sided smile. "But you can't hold it against them, everyone has their reasons."

That was part of what made what followed inevitable perhaps. Their relationship had seemed to accelerate so fast that he wasn't aware of how he had got to where they ended up. But being in the Fortress had allowed him some time to reflect on the last year with Lois. Her forgiveness of his lies was what had made it all possible. Other people had always pushed against them, wanting to know what he was keeping back. He could hardly blame them, sometimes his stuttering explanations made him despair at how pathetic he sounded.

Lois didn't ask. Or she didn't ask much. She was apparently content to let his bizarre behaviour be.

She let him be.

Tonight wasn't going to be one of those nights. After she had returned from the kitchen with his water, she had tried to convince him to eat something. He had demurred, and asked rather that she help him walk to the bathroom. After some struggles he had managed to make it inside, making sure Lois didn't get any funny ideas about helping him relief himself. That, and the return to the sofa, pretty much wiped out his energy so now he leant against a carefully constructed pile of cushions and watched Lois make frustrated notes on her legal pad about the poisoning story.

Finally she felt satisfied she had let him recover from his exertions long enough and chucked the notes to one side.

"So Smallville." She tucked her legs under her in the chair and flexed her fingers, linking them so she could stretch her arms above her head languorously. Clark tried to study the ceiling as she settled back in her seat. He was disgusted that he was able to react to her at all given he'd been irradiated by an entire city of Kryptonite but then, well, she was Lois. Could he really be blamed? "Now we have some quality time together we can have that talk."

"What talk?"

"The talk about the last few months," she said sharply.

"Right." Good offense he thought, use some of those Lane-isms she's so fond of. "So where were you really?"

"What?"

"I checked that hospital you were apparently in Lois. You weren't there."

"What, you checked every hospital bed in the state?" She said sarcastically.

"Yes," he said firmly, holding her eye for once and pleased to see she was appropriately flustered.

"As if."

"I was unemployed, I had a lot of time on my hands."

"You missed one then. Anyway, I thought you were finding yourself in Asia?" She shot back. Clark could have kicked himself, how was he going to maintain that paper-thin explanation? Then another alternative presented itself.

"I'll admit I wasn't in Asia if you admit you weren't in a coma." She opened her mouth and then thought it over.

"Fine. I admit it."

"And so do I. So, where were you?" Lois fidgeted, twisting her fingers round the sleeve of his sweater. She had borrowed it from his room without asking of course. But since she looked so adorable swamped by its size, he could hardly complain. Lois was quite tall but thankfully he was still bigger than her. On a few occasions he'd had to use that extra size to block her path when she was about to waltz into a crack den to track down a bail-jumper or tear a strip off the city editor because he'd had the front to decide her story wasn't lead news.

She accused him of patronising her and being overbearingly paternalistic, reminding him she'd been trained by special forces on how to handle herself as soon as she'd hit dating age. He'd tried to explain to her that he had a lot of respect for her ability to handle herself but all the kung fu in the world wouldn't do much good if her perp was packing a gun or if the editor decided to sack her. He stood firm, and she would wait and try to sneak round him anyway.

So far he hadn't been forced to find out what happened when an irresistable force met an immovable object but recently he'd felt that day wasn't far off.

Lois' mouth was pinched as she deliberated over his question. "I can't Clark. I just can't." He knew then for certain that she had been in the future. After he had combed Metropolis' hospitals and morgues for Lois, he had begun to track her movements back that night. It was only during his third visit to the bullpen that he had seen the ring. It had been lying right under their desks, and as Clark had re-examined their things, he had become convinced they had been disturbed. Had someone searched through their stuff? Had Lois disturbed them in the process? But then there was the ring. If Lois had found it somehow, then her disappearance made sense. But not her non-reappearance.

Rokk had told him that the ring had been programmed to send the Beast to the Legion's time, and since they didn't want him to use the ring to escape, they had set it up so the ring wouldn't go with him. But if Lois had accidentally transported herself to the future, which didn't shock him, she was truly capable of getting herself into any kind of trouble going, why hadn't they sent her back?

Either the Legion couldn't. Or she hadn't ended up with the Legion.

The realisation of what consequences his carelessness could have had were devastating. The thought of her trapped in some future reality, cut off from everything that she cared about and understood was a debilitating idea. Spending long days in the Artic had made him come to realise how debilitating Lois really was. She was a weakness he couldn't afford. If she ever came back, he would be overjoyed. He would want to see her, speak to her, hold her but he couldn't. He had to stay away from her, just like he had to stay away from everyone else.

She had come back and he had been unable to stay away. Lois hadn't told Chloe where she had been and it seemed she was holding something huge back. Was she choosing not to disclose anything because of the possible ramifications? What had she learnt? She couldn't have learnt his secret. He had seen what that did to her and he egotistically concluded that she wouldn't be able to conceal a reaction like that from him.

But she knew something. Something that was weighing her down, and had been there all the time, underlying her grief over Jimmy and Chloe, and her anger over Kate Roberts. Whatever decision she had made, she felt it was a burden she couldn't share. He had to accept that, even though he desperately wanted to help her.

"Okay. I understand." She smiled gratefully at him. "But I'm not telling you what I was doing either." The smile disappeared before being replaced by a frown.

"Hey, you look a little pale. Try and get some sleep for a bit." He was about to protest but knew it would do no good. He was feeling tired after all, his head still ached and his muscles were like jelly. He closed his eyes and heard Lois approach his side. He felt her lean in towards him and press cool, soft lips to his forehead. "I'll be right here."

-----------------------------------

As Clark watched Lois sleep he pondered why someone had put Kryptonite in the water supply. As a way to kill him, it was inefficient and heavy-handed. Styson also had the ability to kill him, he was convinced of that, and the team he was working with would hardly try and finish him off in such baroque style when they had access to someone who could get the job done with relative ease. In fact, the agonising consequences of encountering Styson were what had concealed the presence of the meteor rock in the water around him. Looking back now, he was certain yesterday was the third day the substance had been in the water, increasing in strength each day. A slow, lingering way to try and kill him.

No, this was about something else. But trying to work out what was happening was the kind of speculation that felt beyond him right now. Every inch of him ached, and although he hadn't thrown up in a while, his throat still burned. The air no longer felt toxic but he had absorbed enough in Metropolis to do him damage. The sight of his blood in his hands as he had violently hacked up on arriving home had terrified him. He had no idea how bad the damage was. Thankfully Bart had seemed to have shed much of his Kryptonite load, no doubt due to his impossibly fast metabolism, so his removal of Clark from Metropolis hadn't caused him too much extra harm.

It wasn't only the water in the pipes and sewers that was affecting him of course, it was the water the city's inhabitants had been ingesting for several days. Their bodies hummed with radioactivity, pouring out of them in the moisture in their breath and the sweat on their skin. Lois was probably one of the view people in the city whose continual presence wouldn't be fatal, although he had long told her she would be the death of him. The clothes she had been wearing at work had been dry-cleaned, so were free of the meteor rock. Her shower had of course doused her in the stuff but very little residue remained. She had showered after arriving at his place again, so now if he broke out into a cold sweat around her, it was because she was putting the screws on him, not killing him in tiny increments.

Clark watched her breathing change as Lois woke up and as she opened her eyes she saw him. Rubbing her face quickly he laughed despite himself.

"Don't worry, no drool."

"Ungrateful maggot," she snapped back, rearranging her hair. "And I never drool when I sleep."

"Really? How about that time you fell asleep on your notes and woke up with a pool of blue ink under your chin?" She snarled at him and got out of her chair. Her revenge was effected when he had to once again avert his eyes from her long stretches. She walked over to him, assessing his condition. "How you doing anyway? You must be better if you can risk pissing me off."

"No vomiting," Clark said, holding up his hand in a solemn vow. She smiled happily at her obedient patient and strolled into the kitchen, calling after him to see if he could handle any food yet. Once he had declined he listened to her pottering around, rummaging through his meagre stores for something edible. Eventually she decided on beans, and begun to heat them up in a pan.

Clark turned his head to take in the view of the field outside, the trees draped in gold light as the sun rose. He had forgotten how beautiful it was here. No matter what happened, the sun would come up over the farm every morning and the land would drink up its rays. Some things didn't change. But other things were in a constant state of flux. He would like to pretend that it was his Mom and Dad preparing breakfast a few metres away but those times were gone. His Dad was gone, Lana was gone, Lex was gone, Pete was gone.

Instead Lois was fixing a meal, and her presence in his life was just as fragile as those other lost friends and loved ones had been. That was what Jimmy's death and Lois' disappearance had demonstrated to him again. If he wasn't careful, he could lose her for good. And she was too important. Too special.

"Contemplating the homestead?" Lois asked, a spoon sticking out of the pocket of her jeans as she reappeared with her food.

"Something like that," he sighed. She walked over to the window, a soft smile on her face as she took in the view.

"Click your heels three times," she murmured. Clark studied her face as she stood there. How many times had he seen her stand in this front room of this house and look out of the window? Seen her hair tangled and her eye make-up smudged from a late night, seen her wearing his misappropriated clothes, and her toes neatly painted dark red. But had she always been beautiful and he hadn't quite seen? Had she got lovelier as she got older or had he just got a clue?

She didn't let him be self-indulgent very often and this time was no different. She turned round and started to devour her breakfast, asking him between gulps, "Chloe tell you what was in the sealed records on Styson?" Sometimes her rapid changes of subject left him spinning.

"Uh…yes. Yesterday. Or the day before I guess."

"I was thinking about it earlier. I don't know that it changes how I feel about him. Knowing how bad he had it as a kid. I feel like I should be able to have compassion but he scares me Clark. He enjoys hurting people, it gives him pleasure. How can I understand a person like that? Some days I believe in evil but some days…some days I don't think it matters."

"How could it not matter?"

"Because we talk about it so much!" She sat on the arm of the sofa, next to his feet. "How society is rotten and how we're all hurtling towards a hell on earth. It's trash."

"It is?"

"Of course. I'm not saying we're not capable of some truly awful things. And sometimes it seems like we've raised it an art-form. But what about goodness? We talk about evil all the time but never talk about decency. What is it, how do we cultivate it, how do we achieve it? Take the red-blue blur." She waved her spoon as she began to get into her subject. "You cracked my password because you know what he means to me."

"I'm not sure I do," Clark said uneasily. He wasn't sure he wanted to have this conversation with her, it made him feel guilty.

"Of course you do because people in this city feel the same way."

"Which is?"

"He's a hero Clark!" She exclaimed, her eyes shining with fervour. "Sure, he doesn't get everything right but he's something extraordinary. He carries this burden for the city, for people who don't even know his name and he never asks for anything."

"I thought you were this guy's super-fan, what does he do wrong?"

"Well, I'm hoping eventually he'll realise that he needs to let us see his face."

"Whoa, Lois, secret identity remember? Why would he out himself? Do you have any idea how dangerous that could be?"

"There are risks, of course there are. But think about it Smallville, why don't people trust the Green Arrow, or that bat-nut in Gotham?" He shrugged. "Because they operate in the dark! People aren't that complicated, they want to see the person behind all these amazing acts. They need a face, a name, to hang all these feelings to." Clark was taken aback. He hadn't heard the rationale behind exposing himself put like this before. "It doesn't matter what the Green Arrow does, people will also suspect him. It's not fair but it's how it is. They see he has something to hide and they want honesty, they want him to stand in the clear light of day and tell them they have nothing to fear. He has a relationship with the whole city and if you truly want to make a relationship work, at some point you have to drop the pretence, strip off, and expose yourself." Clark was alarmed at the images that presented, so decided to seize on an earlier sentence.

"Why do you say fear?"

"Clark, the guy is incredibly powerful. Who knows what he's capable of? That's going to scare a lot of people."

"But not you," he said with amazement. She snorted.

"Please, that guy doesn't have a scary bone in his body. I mean, sure, it's kind of a head-trip but once you get past that…I don't know. Does it sound weird? I trust him. Like I trust you." She looked at him and he found any words stuck in his throat. She shrugged. "Maybe it's crazy."

"You're usually a good judge of character." It was difficult to find a bland enough response to her comments. He didn't want to suggest she should have reservations about his other identity but then again, telling her this blur guy sounded like a decent proposition was creepy. He decided to go for a weak-sounding third option.

"Except when it comes to men of course," she said, throwing him an arch look as she went to wash her crockery. He was of course desperate to continue the conversation and also incredibly relieved. Lois keeping quiet about their late-night phone calls had prevented this scenario from happening before, and it was even more uncomfortable than he'd imagined it would be. She had some interesting ideas about what he was doing though and if there was a way to subtly draw out some more thoughts on the blur then he was going to attempt it.

He let himself slip again into a light doze again as Lois started whistling tunelessly. Only a few moments seem to have passed when he opened his eyes again. Light was pouring steadily through the windows now, and Lois was tucking the blanket around him, her hand resting lightly on his forehead. He took hold of her hand, and said in a sleepy voice,

"…lois?"

"Go back to sleep. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." And he sank back into sleep. But when he woke several hours later, he realised she had been lying. She was nowhere in the house and a quick look through the door told him her car was gone. Everyone lied she had told him and they usually had a good reason. It didn't take him long to find the note, pinned to the coffee table by a bottle of Advil.

'Dear patient,

Styson spotted by the city cops

Looks like it's going to break today

Sorry to leave you

Call you soon.

Dr Lois. M.D.'

He reached for his cell phone and called her immediately but the call rang and rang with no answer. A sick feeling of dread filled him. He had stopped lying to himself and pretending he wanted to keep his distance from her, and now he wasn't going to be able to get within ten kilometres of her.