Bruce made his way from shadow to shadow, eyes always moving behind the cowl. He was outside the restaurant that had once been Carmine Falcone's base of operations. It was all but closed down now—only the meager legitimate front remaining since the downfall of the crime lord so many years ago. Members of the present day crime syndicate ate there occasionally for old time's sake, which was why Bruce was lurking outside of it, in the shadows.
Lex Luthor had always had that flamboyantly romantic, or perhaps nostalgic, streak and was stupid enough to show his face at a place like Falcone's old 'hideout.' Clark had once expressed surprise that Luthor hadn't made Chicago his base for its rich crime-lord history.
Fourty-five minutes later, though, and no sign of the bald madman. Maybe not so stupid after all.
Bill Ganelon, though, was, to his knowledge, new to the 'wanted man' thing.
Bruce checked the picture Clark had dropped off again, even though he knew the lines of the man's face well enough by now.
Bill Ganelon was hardly three years older than Clark, but he'd spent the majority of his adult life in the sun on a tractor, leaving him well-tanned and more wrinkled around the eyes than a city-slicker his age. Cold brown eyes, a long nose, thin lips, and thinning brown hair that was graying at the temples and beginning to recede into baldness. Not particularly attractive, nor particularly grotesque. An average-looking man who had led an average life until he'd moved to Metropolis.
The bat-man's patience was just beginning to wane when a man of average height and build in jeans and cowboy boots stepped out of the restaurant. There was absolutely nothing interesting about him except for the fact that he was the one Bruce had been waiting for. His first impulse was to snatch him up, sedate him, and keep him in the Bat Cave until Clark arrived to bring him to Metropolis; however, Ganelon was more valuable loose, at the moment. With any luck, he could be followed to a base of operations where Luthor was hiding out or—or with any luck and—the missing children were being held.
- - -
Jimmy sat in the second conference room, the smaller one that he had taken over to go through the old photos Perry wanted to be put into photo albums for the Anniversary Gala—the fiftieth anniversary of the Planet being housed in the landmark building. The paper was older than dirt, the landmark status, the globe and whatnot, was only half a century old. They were celebrating at the traditional Christmas party. They rented out a huge ballroom space downtown, put on ridiculously expensive clothes, ate and drank champagne and tiny appetizers, and generally had a good time.
It was June, though, and the party wasn't until December. Yet Jimmy sat in his conference room, every inch of table covered in old photos, both black-and-white and color. He'd pulled some of them out of the morgue, from back before anybody currently in the Planet's employ would possibly remember, but most of them were from his personal archives—he wasn't the photo editor, nor was he the most senior photographer, but he had the most photos from around the bullpen, as he was the one that stuck around, which was mostly because he was not only a photographer, but the go-fer.
"Are you sure I can't get at least a couple of interns?" he asked Perry, again, but the editor merely grinned at him and shut the door, again.
Jimmy looked down at his work again. The chairs were stacked with empty photo albums; there was a pile of sticker-numbers for labeling completed albums with the appropriate years on one corner of the table. For the most part, he'd been able to sort the photos by year, but most of it was guess-work. He sat in the one chair that was clear of empty albums and began.
-
Perry smirked to himself looking into the spare conference room—it was too small for proper staff meetings and was usually only used for the section editor gatherings, but the section editors could make due with a larger space so that Jimmy could properly organize all those damn photos. Jimmy had been working on the albums for the better part of the week, organizing and labeling photos, sticking them in albums by year and stacking the completed albums off to the side. He would've been worried about losing one of his best photographers to such an intern-worthy task, but Jimmy knew almost everybody in the photos by face and didn't constantly bother the rest of the office with questions after this or that person, which made it worth it. Besides, Jimmy was best at capturing Superman on film, and Superman had made himself scarce lately.
That disappearance concerned the editor-in-chief, but he was determined not to think about it. He had enough to worry about without concerning himself with an extraterrestrial being that could take care of himself.
Worries such as the upcoming return of Lois and Clark to the bullpen. They were due to check in that evening, late, after most of the staff had gone home. They wouldn't be returning publicly until their latest breakthrough was published in a few days—which meant the editor-in-chief had a countdown going in his head to stress over. Lois, he was sure, was running out of patience. It was like the Henderson case all over again—long and drawn out, involving less-than-savory characters that would willingly take out a reporter or two for breaking the case wide-open. Perry was a bit offended Lane and Kent hadn't at least been nominated for the Pulitzer for that bit of investigative brilliance, but they'd won something for it, he couldn't remember what. It had satisfied them, though, and then their personal lives had blown up. He'd sent them on that Niagara Falls bit as a well-deserved vacation and it had ended up breaking up the team. The criminal Kryptonians had tried to take over the world, Lane and Kent had disappeared for a weekend, Lane had reappeared completely different, Superman had driven the Kryptonians away, Lois had done another 180, Kent had been gone a few weeks later. Lois had gotten together with Richard, she'd turned up pregnant…
Perry sighed. He didn't like thinking about that segment of time. At all. It seemed all the troubles in Lois' life in particular stemmed from that trip to Niagara Falls, and he'd been the one to send her on the trip.
Another sigh. He realized he was staring at Lois' desk and blinked. It was odd to see her desk empty—it hadn't been empty since her maternity leave, and even then she'd been popping into the bullpen every few days as though she didn't believe it would still be there when she got back.
- - -
Clark was pacing and it was driving Lois nuts.
"Why don't you just call him?" she asked for the fiftieth time at least. He didn't even pause in his pacing, as though he hadn't even heard her, but she knew he had. She scowled at him. "Earth to Clark? Hello?"
"He'll call when he knows for sure, Lois," he snapped back, finally answering her. She sighed and flopped back on the bed.
She was going stir-crazy sitting in their hotel room without a break since they'd arrived. The action was in Gotham and that's where she wanted to go, but Clark wouldn't hear of it. He said they were due in the bullpen that evening to make a report to Perry, they couldn't possibly leave town. He said it was too dangerous. He said he had Bruce Wayne pulling the appropriate strings anyways.
Lois didn't care if they went to Gotham just to sit in Bruce's over-the-top manor; at least she'd be closer to the action while she sat around and waited impatiently.
Clark's cell phone finally rang, vibrated rather, skittering noisily on the little table.
- - -
"Dad," Richard said, feeling a bit of the tension that had been cramping the muscles between his shoulder blades for the past few weeks ebb away.
"Richard," the tone in his father's voice was entirely tense, nothing like Martha Kent's despite her awareness of the situation. "How was your flight?"
"Fine," Richard shrugged with his good arm and tried to smile reassuringly. It came out as more of a grimace.
"Dad," Jason whined, tugging at the hem of his shirt until Richard looked down at him. The little boy was carrying his big backpack on his back with everything he'd taken to Kansas shoved inside. Richard had his own pull-behind suitcase with his things in it. "What's going on?"
"It's okay, Jason. Let's just go to Grandpa's house, alright?"
"Mom and Uncle Clark said to stay at the farm with Mrs. Martha."
Richard closed his eyes and counted to ten quickly in his head. Jason had been pushing that point since he'd booked their flight to Gotham. At first it had been because he hadn't wanted to leave the goat or the dog, but then, when it became apparent they were really leaving, it was because Mrs. Martha would be lonely without them or he'd miss the dog, then it had progressed to 'Mom and Uncle Clark said' and Richard had reached new levels of annoyance.
He had booked the first flight to Gotham the morning after Lois and Clark had left for Metropolis. Mrs. Kent hadn't protested, but he was sure it was because she felt it wasn't her place. Jason had given her a pleading look and her only half enthusiastic comforts had served to increase his whining.
"I'm parked right in the first lot," Richard's father, Thomas White, said, thumbing back over his shoulder and taking Richard's bag. "It's not far."
As far as grandfathers went, Thomas White wasn't the greatest. His wife had died when Richard was young, leaving him to raise their boy alone. He'd spent most of Richard's childhood wishing his wife was there for various landmarks events, and was spending Jason's childhood the same way. It was rather depressing, really. Richard had gotten over the lackluster childhood years ago and vowed to make his son's better—of course, that had become more difficult when he'd discovered Jason wasn't his, though he still loved him just as well.
He told himself he just needed time.
- - -
Lois felt that it was odd to be pulling into the driveway of 312 Riverside Drive. After so long away, the house was somehow different. It was empty, to be sure, but it just seemed strange in itself. Like it was part of somebody else's life.
She unlocked the front door and stepped into the entryway. Boots and jackets were just as they'd been left, if slightly disturbed—Metropolis P.D. had been through everything before she'd been allowed to return home. For her own safety, of course.
The fridge was empty, but she'd expected that.
Every room was empty, and though she'd expected that it was the strangest thing of all.
It was in the kitchen that she finally broke down.
Bill Ganelon was dangling in front of them like the proverbial carrot on a string to be chased, Richard had taken Jason and flown to Gotham without a word to her, and she hadn't been able to have a proper conversation with Clark since they'd checked in at the bullpen after Batman himself had called his cell phone to inform them Ganelon had disappeared into a tunnel system he hadn't been aware of in the Narrows.
She'd even had a conversation with Superman after he'd parlayed with Batman in Gotham—he'd been more frustrated than she'd ever seen him. The tunnels were lead-lined and neither superhero was dumb enough to venture down and explore the tunnels. The warrant had to be granted through Gotham P.D., so it would take awhile at best.
After ten minutes sitting with her forehead on the kitchen table, she called Lucy's house, still with her forehead on the table. She was miserable and she needed to talk to her sister.
"Troupe household, Lola speaking," Lola trilled. Lois had to blink a few times before she was able to speak—the twins were thirteen, teenagers; she hadn't seen them in far too long.
"Lola, hi; it's Aunt Lois," Lois said. Lola said nothing, Lois politely assumed the girl was nodding or some other form of silent acknowledgement. "Is your mom there?"
"Yeah… MOM, PHONE!"
Lois held the phone away from her ear and wondered if Superman felt the same way when somebody whispered in his ear.
"Hello?"
"Luce."
"What's the matter?"
"How do you know something's the matter?"
"Because I'm your sister," Lucy replied. Lois could hear her younger sister ushering children away with orders not to disturb her and the sound of the den door sliding shut. "Now what's going on?"
"I have no idea," Lois sighed, opening her eyes to stair at the grain of the table as she proceeded to spill her heart to Lucy. Everything big and small came out—the Coffee Shoppe had been out of hazelnut creamers when she'd desperately needed them when she'd popped in for a cup to go, the tension between her and Clark, Richard disappearing off to Gotham with Jason even though he knew it was nearly as dangerous as being in Metropolis (what stung even more was that she had been notified via Clark when his mother had called to let him know, not Richard letting her know he was taking Jason to Gotham), Perry's inability to select interns that understood the most basic instructions…
In true Lane fashion, Lucy pulled out all the stops. She put Ron in charge of the kids the moment he arrived home, bought a bottle of something cheap and a lot of ice cream, and sat Lois down on the couch.
"Now," she said—by this time it was nearly seven o'clock and Lois had managed to work herself into a bit of a depression that had her sister thoroughly concerned. "Start at the beginning. Don't leave anything out. I'm here to help."
For a moment, Lois considered telling Lucy that Jason was Superman's son, but decided against it. Instead, she started with a brief history of her partnership with Clark Kent that escalated into a rant about men in general and ended in lamentations about the complicated state of her life and relationships.
- - -
Superman flew back to Metropolis from Gotham after a long conversation with Bruce about the mysterious tunnels Ganelon had betrayed. They needed a way in, preferably before the warrant went through to head off those inside who would be escaping when someone inside the judge's office gave them an early warning.
They hadn't come up with anything. It was another thing to be frustrated about.
He sank back below the cloud cover as he came upon Metropolis—one of his favorite views even when it was so dreadfully overcast, big gray clouds heavy with condensation barring the cityscape.
For the second time in recent history, Perry White was standing on the roof of the Daily Planet in Lois's usual spot. Or what had been her usual spot before he'd gone to Krypton.
Perry looked up at Superman flew overhead, looking both a little surprised and a little relieved. It was an odd look to see on his boss's face.
"Evening, Chief," Clark said as he soared past, slowing down just enough so that if Perry were to say anything, he'd be able to pause for a moment of conversation. Perry just sort of nodded belatedly, and Clark flew on.