Lois here, flying on her own this weekend as Anissa is in Georgia for Mysa's wedding. As you'll see once you begin reading, events are beginning to speed up as we begin to reach top of our story arc here. All bets will very shortly be off and anything can happen. Those of you that know us know that we love a twisty tale. We are now at the pitch in Heirs in Act Four where we were in Little Secrets in the same portion of the story. And we all remember the events there, don't we?

No matter what comes next, continue to trust us. We know where this ends. And the finale will be worth it.

(It also won't take us another fifty chapters to get there this time! ;) YES, I MEAN IT!)

Maggie Sawyer watched through the one-way mirror, her keen gaze missing nothing, but her quarry wasn't some jumpy street kid to telegraph her state of mind through fidgeting. Giselle sat perfectly composed in the hard wooden chair, the one that Dan had sanded an eighth of an inch off one leg so it would never sit level. She didn't even look much worse for wear after having spent two nights and a day in jail. The intended strategy was to let Giselle get a good long look at what prison life could be like, and hope that she'd be rattled enough to say anything that might get her out from behind bars sooner. It often worked with young offenders, the kinds of kids that were all aggressive façade.

But with Giselle, it seemed to have backfired. She certainly wasn't the girl Maggie had met before, the doe-eyed sweetheart from the New Year's Eve party nothing more than a memory. This young woman was cool, self-possessed, her green-eyed gaze faintly mocking whenever she glanced at the mirror. Maggie didn't like it.

It was just one thing on a very long list of things she disliked. Fortunately, she knew how to keep her anger and dismay in check while interrogating a suspect. Taking a deep breath, Maggie walked around to the door and went into the room.

Giselle met her gaze steadily, and Maggie thought, Chameleon. She'll change into whatever she needs to be to survive. "Good morning," the policewoman said casually.

"Are you going to be the good cop or the bad cop?" Giselle asked, her tone light, but biting sarcasm lurked beneath it. "Because I watched NYPD Blue too, you know. None of those tricks work on me."

Maggie turned the room's other chair around and sat down in it, folding her arms along the back. "I don't doubt it, but not from watching TV. You've been in a few other police stations, haven't you, Giselle? Mostly fraud charges – the tax return checks thing was pretty clever."

The girl shrugged but said nothing. She was too wise to admit to anything. Maggie continued, "Must've been boring, going back to school and all that. Why'd you do it? Why take on such an intense cover for so long?"

"I won't answer anything without a lawyer, so you can quit trying." The girl sounded almost bored, and Maggie felt her anger beginning to rise to the surface.

She leaned forward, letting her gaze become cold and scathing as the Arctic wind. "Go ahead. Call your lawyer. But here's the deal, little girl. If you decide to play ball with us, I have to go along with whatever the D.A. says we can offer as a plea bargain. If you lawyer up, we'll prosecute you for everything we can think of. And trust me, I can think of a lot, starting with the attempted murder of my friend's son."

Her voice had become a growl at the end of that. Maggie remembered Lois' return to Metropolis, the twins just three years old, wide-eyed and wondering. She remembered how Cat had charmed Jason into letting her pick him up, and she'd done the same with Kala, the scent of the toddler's hair reminding her painfully of Jamie. She knew both kids well enough to love them fiercely, enough that only her deep commitment to her personal ethics kept her from knocking this arrogant little bitch right out of her chair. If Jason had been hurt … if Kala didn't return safely from wherever Luthor had her … then it would be wise for Giselle to steer very clear of Maggie Sawyer. Assuming, of course, that Lois didn't get to her first.

Not even her stare intimidated Giselle. The girl only leaned forward as well, her green eyes intense. "Listen up, cop," she said, and this was the bitter truth beneath her pretty face and sweet demeanor. "Lex Luthor is much scarier than you are. The worst you'll ever do to me is send me to prison. He'd kill me."

Maggie allowed herself to laugh. "You idiot. You think he won't kill you if you don't talk? Get real. He's going to assume you talked, and he'll kill you as soon as he can get his hands on you. That's why you're still in my jail, where I can keep an eye on you myself. If I let you go into a correctional facility, you wouldn't last the night."

For the first time, she saw real fear in Giselle's eyes. She smiled, and let Giselle see just how angry she was. "Right now I'm the only person protecting your worthless hide, and I really don't like you. So start talking; my patience is very limited."

…

Elise had thought that sharing a room with Mrs. Lane-Kent might be awkward, but the reporter had been too exhausted. After apologizing to Lana for not being there to patch up her popped stitch as promised – and re-bandaging the wound on her hand, which Elise was glad to not have to deal with – Lois hadn't even made a feeble attempt at small talk. She'd just gotten changed and fallen into bed, asleep before Elise finished brushing her teeth.

That had been weird, to say the least. Elise was old enough to know that adults didn't have all the answers, but she was used to them at least acting like they had the world running more or less according to plan. Part of that was the way they tended to hover over kids, even older teenagers who could look after themselves. To be almost completely ignored, Mrs. Lane-Kent clearly assuming that Elise was smart enough to take care of herself, was a new experience.

And it just got stranger in the morning. Elise woke to her shoulder being gently shaken, and then she was left alone to get ready while Mrs. Lane-Kent went over to the Whites' room across the hall to discuss the plans for the day.

Elise took a shower using the complimentary bath stuff the hotel left out, but she hadn't been able to bring any spare clothes. Fortunately, someone was thinking of her; a white blouse and dark gray skirt were hanging on the outside of the bathroom doorknob. She got dressed gratefully, not quite able to put her finger on what was so off about the day so far.

At a loss for what else to do, Elise went over to the Whites' room. Mr. White saw her and grinned. "Think fast," he said, tossing something at her. When she caught it, it turned out to be a blueberry muffin. "I raided the breakfast buffet. Eat up, kiddo. We've got coffee to drink, and a pitcher of milk, too."

"Also liberated from the buffet," Mrs. Lane-Kent pointed out, and Mr. White just shrugged. Mrs. White rolled her eyes at him, but gave Elise an encouraging smile.

Mr. Kent barely glanced at Elise before returning his attention to what she now saw was a map spread out on the table. "Superman said he'd gotten out to Artesia Lake yesterday, and he followed the highway to Walker Lake at Hawthorne this morning. There's nothing close to the road, and the town itself should be safe."

"So let's take our traveling roadshow to Hawthorne," Mr. White said. "We can sniff for clues while Superman's flying a search pattern."

Mr. Kent sighed, but apparently he'd given up on sending everyone home. "And we can leave the kids safely in a major hotel. Speaking of which, Elise, would you go wake Jason? We need to get ready if we're going to make decent time today."

"Sure," she said, and he handed her the key. As she walked out of the room, she finally realized what was so odd, and it froze her in the hallway for a moment.

They were all treating her like another grownup – not hovering, and not assuming she was useless. They were looking out for her, making sure she had clean clothes and breakfast, but only because she hadn't had the time or ability to take care of those things herself. Come to think of it, even last night Mrs. Lane-Kent hadn't looked over her quick-fix on Mrs. White's stitches. She'd assumed that Elise was competent to take care of it.

Elise blinked. And then they'd sent her off to wake Jason, expecting her to continue to be useful. A little voice in her mind asked, Isn't this exactly what you wanted? Well, yes, but she hadn't been quite ready for the weight of responsibility now settling on her shoulders. She decided to focus on the present, which at the moment was wolfing down the last of her muffin before she went into the room.

Before she started dating Jason, Elise had occasionally spent the night at the Lane-Kent penthouse, sitting up late with Kala and having cold pizza for breakfast the next morning. She'd learned then that Jason was a late riser, and given how broken his sleep had been the night before last, he'd probably be twice as difficult to wake up today. The girl shook her head ruefully as she went in to confront her ex.

Jason was asleep in the bed furthest from the door, curled up in the covers with only his nose showing. Elise couldn't help grinning slightly; he really was an adorable goof, if you only looked at the surface. The trouble with Jason was that he wasn't just an adorable goof. Beneath the charmingly wacky exterior was a really deep, intense young man. Getting to know him had been a little like jumping into a kiddie wading pool expecting to get wet to the ankles, only to discover it was just the plastic edge of such a pool positioned perfectly around a bottomless sinkhole. Elise had quickly begun to feel like she was in way over her head, and when he'd popped out the whole family-pictures-on-the-mantle thing she'd done what seemed sensible at the time, and run away. She wasn't exactly proud of that, now.

Elise walked over to him with a sigh, shoving all of her thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand, which would not be easy. "Hey, Jason," she said loudly, and shook the comforter-wrapped lump that was probably his shoulder.

He grumbled incoherently and rolled over, turning his back to her. Elise shoved his shoulders again, rocking him back and forth, but he wasn't moving. "Come on, Jason, you have to get up," she insisted, giving another push. This time the grumbling sounded more intelligible, but it still didn't make any sense. She frowned, and decided to escalate. Elise grabbed the comforter up by Jason's head and yanked it, hard.

When he yelped and sat bolt upright, she realized she'd gotten a few strands of hair along with the heavy blanket. "Ow!" Jason yelled, rubbing his head.

"Well, wake up, and I won't have to scalp you," she retorted, feeling guilty.

Jason's eyes finally focused on her, and his expression became one of stark horror as he grabbed the comforter back and clutched it to his chest. "Elise! What are you doing in here?"

"Your parents sent me to wake you up," she replied, and realizing what was wrong with him. "Oh my God, Jason, breathe. It's not like I haven't seen you without a shirt on before."

"I'm just not cool with you ripping the sheets off me when I'm only wearing boxers," he informed her, sounding as prissy as a twelve-year-old girl.

She snorted. "Coulda been worse. You could've been wearing your Snoopy pajama pants. Besides, dork, I've seen you in swim trunks."

"That's different," Jason insisted. "Anyway, I'm awake. Will you please leave so I can get dressed?"

Somehow Elise had never realized he was quite this squeamish. It made for a nice diversion from everything else. "Nope, I think I'll stay and watch the show," she teased.

Jason scowled and tossed a pillow at her. "Get out, perv." Laughing, she did, only pausing to tell him that breakfast awaited in the Whites' room.

…

General Zod faced the five men warily. He had learned to read human body language very easily. The more primitive species was more expressive than Kryptonians, their gestures more exaggerated, and that made them easy to understand.

It also meant that he couldn't deceive himself about the group's intentions. They meant to harm him if they could. Luthor had always been a little lax in policing his security staff, but now that Kala Kal-El was proving more effective with the AI, Luthor was clearly less concerned about Zod's safety.

They hadn't outright attacked, but they were blocking his way with an air of anticipation. Perhaps these men simply needed a sterner warning than Luthor had given them. Zod told them calmly, "This is futile. You know you cannot defeat me."

"Oh, can't we?" He had picked out the leader of the little group, the one whose hand had been blistered by his heat vision on the police baton. That was the man who now took a step forward, a predatory smile on his face. "You've outlived your usefulness, old man. I think we can do anything we damn well please."

"Then you are a fool," Zod told him silkily. He didn't allow his own body to betray his tension, standing at parade rest while he watched them dispassionately.

The man just grinned and held out his hand. In his palm was a small box, which he opened to reveal a shard of kryptonite. Zod felt the all-too-familiar wave of nausea and weakness sweep through him. "You aliens have a problem with this stuff, don't ya? All your powers just fade away around a stupid piece of rock."

That wasn't precisely true, but Zod held his tongue. If the men thought that kryptonite rendered him powerless, they would be unprepared for an attack. But before he could move, a new voice spoke from behind the men. "Unfortunately for you, I am not as affected by kryptonite as he is," Kala said, stalking up to them. The men whirled, and the smile she gave them made their leader's fierce grin seem juvenile. She met the leader's gaze and stared until he looked down. "Put the crystal away, gentlemen, and go find something useful with which to occupy yourselves."

Cowed, they turned away, and Zod held his ground, forcing them to file past him on either side. He met Kala's eyes with a slight smile. She paced to his side, a flash of fire in her eyes. "Your intervention was most timely," Zod murmured.

"Your gratitude is accepted," Kala replied, and they both turned to go get breakfast. They walked leisurely, knowing that no one in the compound dared mess with both of them.

She was definitely on his side now. It was well worth the trouble he'd gone to, lurking in the halls to confront that specific group of men and thus create the opportunity for Kala to rescue him. Zod's master plan proceeded efficiently.

…

By the time the kids got back to the Whites' room, the plans for the day had been established. Those few moments without Elise had been enough for them to talk openly, Clark finally agreeing to drive to the hotel. It would only take a couple of hours, and then he could head out to fly over the surrounding area while secure in the knowledge that the kids were safely ensconced in the hotel. Lana had called ahead and sweet-talked the desk clerk into letting them check in early.

Leaving was just as hurried as the rest of the morning had been so far. Clark pushed them all, wanting to get moving now, but everyone kept their tempers in check. The idea was that Lois would drive, Clark would rest, and Richard and Lana would follow. Jason wasn't fast enough to get in the first car, so he and Elise got left to the Whites.

Richard eyed the departing rental car and shook his head. "I give it half an hour," he said.

"Until we catch up with them?" Jason asked, tilting his head to the side.

Richard didn't reply, tousling his son's hair. "Load up, kids, let's put some miles on this thing. And best of all, we won't have to look at it once we're inside it."

That got a tired laugh. The car rental places had been nearly sold out, and Lois had gotten the halfway respectable dark blue coupe. Richard had to make do with a sedan that happened to be a particularly eye-watering shade of metallic burnt orange. At least it had a decent engine, something that could keep up with Lois' lead foot.

Elise sat in the backseat, keeping quiet, occasionally looking at her cell phone and wondering how she'd explain all this to her parents – which she would eventually have to do. Not even a naïve fifteen-year-old could expect to stow away on a plane headed halfway across the country and not have her parents find out.

Jason would have liked to go back to sleep, but his stomach didn't want to settle down. Maybe it was the cinnamon bun he'd wolfed down … or maybe something was going on with Kala. Jason had always resisted any attempt to proclaim he had a 'psychic connection' to his twin, but still, he generally knew what she was up to, with a few disastrous exceptions like New Year's Eve. He shut his eyes, firmly telling himself that it had to be the cinnamon bun. He knew better than to eat something so sugary first thing in the morning.

Lana had just taken the first pills for the day: antibiotics to ward off infection, and a pain pill. The latter had just begun to kick in, creating a comforting, if false, sense of distance from everything. She resented the drugs at the same time as she understood how people could get addicted to them.

Richard just focused on driving, on getting to Hawthorne. They knew Luthor was somewhere along the southern border between Nevada and California, and Clark had covered about a third of it so far. The hope was that he and Lana could do the research, trying to narrow his search, while he covered the skies and Lois checked up on a few leads on the ground.

Except for the shush of tires on pavement, the car was silent as they drove, none of them feeling much like conversation. At least, until Jason's sharp eyes spotted a car stopped by the roadside, and a figure walking toward them. The distance masked both until they got closer.

"Twenty-five minutes," Richard sighed, glancing at the clock. "I called it."

Only then did Jason realize that was Mom stalking toward them. Now he could make out Dad standing beside the other car as well, and his stomach plummeted. Were they already fighting?

Richard pulled over next to Lois and rolled down the window. "Hey baby, wanna ride?" he called.

"Not now, Richard," Lois snarled back as she stormed up to his door. "Here. Take the keys and go ride with Mr. Passive-Aggressive so I don't rip him a new one."

"I'll go," Lana said before Richard could reply. "If you don't mind, Lois."

The reporter sighed and stalked around to the passenger side. "Can you even drive after taking those pills?"

"No, but Clark can," Lana said as she got out of the car. When Lois went to give her the keys, Lana caught her hand and held on. "Lois. Take a moment and just take a deep breath. Please?"

Lois sighed in annoyance, but did it, and some of the tension went out of her shoulders when she took that deep breath. Lana smiled. "That's better. Don't worry – we will find her, Lois. Now hop in; I'll walk to the other car."

"Thanks," the reporter muttered as she sat down.

Jason and Elise in the back seat just stared, wide-eyed. Lana waved Richard on, and he pulled back out onto the highway. "Lois…" he began, but she cut him off.

"If you're going to lecture me, I don't have time." Her voice was brittle, her gaze fixed on the windshield.

"Oh, we have two hours, Lois," Richard said, keeping his tone gentle. "I could fit in two, maybe three lectures, plus some generalized complaining."

She looked over at him, and her expression was equal parts hurt and mistrustful. "You talked to Clark last night."

"Yeah, I did, but now I'm talking to you." Richard reached over and put his hand on her knee, giving it a familiar squeeze. "And we were together long enough for me to know you won't take my marching orders anyway, so I'm not even going to bother trying to tell you what to do." With that, he turned to conversation toward the future, asking Lois about her researching plans for the day and the other information she'd gleaned so far.

…

"We're downloading the new data now," Stanford said nervously. Luthor and Mercy were both watching over his shoulder, their gazes fixed on the monitor. At the moment it displayed a satellite map of southern Nevada. If everything went well, a series of red dots would soon appear on that map, plotting Superman's approximate path of travel and current location. It could only be approximate; alpha wave signal strength might vary among Kryptonian-human hybrids, and their equations necessarily used Kala's data to extrapolate values for Jason. If his signal were stronger or weaker than hers, it could skew the results.

On the other hand, if the boy was here, he was likely close to his father, so the direction should still be accurate. Stanford tried not to think too closely about what this meant – all he'd wanted was a chance to study those fascinating crystals, and he'd done that. He now knew more about Kryptonian crystals than any other human being, and he felt obscurely proud of the knowledge. The price, however, was knowing that his employer intended to kill every remaining Kryptonian. That didn't sit well with Stanford, but then, what other choice did he have? He'd made his decision to fall in with Luthor a decade ago, and nothing could take that back now.

The screen flickered, and the pattern of dots appeared. Stanford couldn't help gasping; Superman was close, no more than three hours away by car. That was only minutes for him, though.

"They're both staying relatively still, and close to the highway," Mercy pointed out. "Maybe they're traveling by car, for some reason? Saving their strength?"

"It could be," Luthor murmured. "It will take him a while to find this place. Regardless, he's much closer than I'd like him to be. Stanford, it's time to initiate the fallback plan."

The geologist startled a bit. He hadn't heard the fallback plan mentioned in several years. "Sir?" he asked.

"Take the best of the scientists – the top thirty percent or so – from each division with you to the secondary facility in Australia," Luthor said. "Tell them they're to get everything up and running so we can bring it online to run backup to this facility. One way or another, I should be joining you there shortly."

Now he remembered. The lab in Australia was similar to this one, but it held only a skeleton crew in charge of backing up the data from Nevada. It could completely take over operations in case anything happened in Nevada, and if Luthor felt this facility was threatened, he had planned to send his best and brightest to Australia. That way if something catastrophic occurred, they would lose only the security staff and the under-performers.

Stanford supposed he ought to be glad he was going to be far from the coming fight, but he was also saddled with choosing which of his team would get to join him in safety. As he rose to leave, Luthor added something casually that chilled him to the core. "Make sure you stop by the cryolab and take representative samples with you."

"How many, sir?" Stanford asked, trying not to show his trepidation. He hated the sterile room with its nitrogen-cooled containers.

"Three samples of each of the cell lines," Luthor told him. Stanford grew even more worried; last time he'd checked, there had been only one cell line. What exactly were Luthor's biologists growing down there? And how much sleep would he lose over the answer, when he found it?

"In the meantime," Mercy was saying, still looking at the map, "we should do our best to see to it that the fallback plan never has to become primary. Perhaps it's time we set a few roadblocks in the path of their search."

Luthor nodded. "We know roughly where they are, it shouldn't be too hard to intercept them – and we have assets in Hawthorne."

"And since our other efforts have been … less than successful, I think I'll handle this myself." Mercy grinned, and Stanford turned to go. The blonde was utterly ruthless, and proved it with the statement that followed him out the door. "I'll need the handheld alpha wave tracker, Lex. I don't want the alien swooping in at the wrong moment while I'm dealing with his family."

…

Clark watched Lois storm away, aggravated. All he'd tried to do was make up, at least a little, for last night. After everything Richard had told him, he knew he needed to start trying to bridge the widening gap between himself and Lois.

In the gentlest tones he could manage, he'd said he didn't want a divorce. Her reply had been to coldly state that he was the one who brought it up first. Clark had sighed, thinking he couldn't even try to apologize without getting a slap in the face for his pains, and then Lois had yanked the car over to the shoulder and stormed out of it so fast he'd thought at first that she'd seen something important as they drove.

But then he'd heard the door slam, seen the furious set of her shoulders, and known she was angry at him. He got out of the car, wanting to keep her in sight even though he decided not to approach her. Richard's car wasn't far behind them, and soon Lois was trying to get Richard to switch with her. Clark winced slightly. He didn't particularly want to tell the younger man how his attempt to patch things up had failed so spectacularly.

It was Lana who got out and started walking toward his car, and Clark's heart fell even lower. She knew him very well, and she had high expectations of him. Clark hadn't really had a long, serious conversation with Lana since she'd dressed him down in front of the entire family and friends for losing his temper with Lois. Now he wasn't looking forward to another session of that.

Once Lois and Richard had passed him, he got the spare key from the glove box and backed the car up to spare Lana the walk. She slid into the passenger seat, saying, "I hope you don't mind driving. I already took a pain pill."

Clark just nodded. He'd planned to rest on this trip, but it seemed that fate was laughing at his plans lately. "It's fine," he said shortly, waiting for the lecture to begin.

But Lana didn't say anything to him, just leaned her head back and watched the road ahead of them through half-closed eyes. Her silence made Clark more and more anxious, until he finally got irritated enough to break the silence himself. "Look, I know you're upset with me," he said, and the rest of the words came pouring out as if that were a cork. "You expect better of me, you always have, and I've always tried to live up to that higher standard. I'm a hero, after all, I'm supposed to be better than anyone else, I'm supposed to be above all this. Well, darn it, I'm sorry I can't just bounce back and forgive Lois right away. She cut a deal with Luthor, and of all the psychopaths who've tried to kill me, he's the only one I'm actually afraid of. My God, I still have nightmares sometimes! So excuse me if I find it a little difficult to accept the fact that Lois bargained with him and kept it a secret from me for our entire marriage!"

He hadn't been able to look at her, keeping his gaze on the road, and when Lana spoke at first he couldn't understand what she said, it was so far from what he'd expected. "What?"

In the same gentle tone, Lana repeated, "Clark, you're mistaken. I am the last person who expects you to be more than human. You're just as fallible and human as any of us, and I'd be very worried if you could take this calmly."

Somehow that made him tighten his grip on the steering wheel. "I'm not human," Clark all but growled.

"Yes, you are," Lana told him, laying her wounded hand on his arm. "I know you, Clark – I've known you longer than anyone but Martha. We ate paste together in kindergarten, remember?"

That was long, long ago, but when the memory surfaced it made Clark chuckle in spite of his tension. "It was Pete's idea. He told us both it tasted like lemonade."

"And we believed him, more fools us," she replied fondly. "Clark, trust me. You are human in all the ways that count. You were raised by us, not Kryptonians, and from talking to Lois and the twins I know you have some fairly significant deviations from normal Kryptonian psychology. Like that fact you haven't run screaming from the car at being touched." She squeezed his bicep gently.

Clark wasn't mollified. "But I'm a superhero. I should be better than this – I shouldn't be this furious at my own wife."

"You're not furious, you're hurt – and you're taking a page out of Lois' book by turning that pain and the fear of Luthor into anger." Lana rubbed his arm, soothing some of the tension. "Clark, your powers don't make you who you are. Not all of the Justice League has superpowers, but they all have the drive to try and make this world a better place. I can't say you'd be out there in a cape if you'd been born human, but I know you would be helping somehow. You're a hero, and that comes from the heart – from your very human heart. The powers you have just make some things easier."

She was right, he realized. Bruce Wayne's only superpowers were his insatiable desire for justice and his apparently unlimited bank account, yet he was a founding member of the JLA and widely respected, even feared, by other heroes.

Lana continued, "Everything you're going through right now is perfectly understandable. Though I'm sure Richard reminded you that Lois would do anything – anything – if she thought it would protect you and the twins, that doesn't make it much easier for you to handle."

"No, it doesn't," Clark agreed. "Not even when I know that I have to put this behind me. If Lois and I are at odds, it's a perfect opportunity for Luthor to drive us further apart. And I don't want to lose her. No matter what she's done, she's still my wife, and I love her."

"She loves you, too. And she made this deal and kept it a secret precisely because she doesn't want to lose you, either."

"So why is it so darn hard to find our way back to each other? Just now I was trying to apologize to her, to make up for being snappish last night, and she completely took it the wrong way." Clark glanced at the speedometer and realized he'd been pressing down a little too hard on the accelerator in his frustration.

"You have to keep trying," Lana told him. "That's ultimately what will save you both. If you truly love each other, you'll keep trying no matter how many times you fail. When Richard and I were having problems, the one thing we never let go of was the fact that we wanted to be together no matter what. As many times as I ripped into him for no reason, as many times as he did something thoughtless, we forgave each other and tried again."

She paused, and he felt the weight of her gaze as she studied him. "Clark, this isn't something you can do once and it will be over so you can live happily ever after again. Life is not a fairytale, no matter how much your love story with Lois has been the stuff of legends. You have to work at a marriage, every day – it might look like you have a perfect relationship to the outside observer, but there will always be little mistakes and miscommunications, things that frustrate you. But you have to stop pushing all that aside to deal with it later. It just builds up until you're so aggravated that you can't handle any of it. Talk to Lois, make time just to be with her."

Proving once again how well she knew him, Lana added, "And if you start to feel selfish, making yourself set aside time for your wife when however many disasters are happening at any given moment, remember that you need her too. Taking that time makes you a better hero, because you can do your job with your mind and conscience clear. You've always needed Lois, just as much as she's always needed you."

Clark sighed. He was normally a very cautious driver, but he took his eyes off the road long enough to meet Lana's gaze and thank her.

…

By the time they arrived at the hotel in Hawthorne, Mr. White had just about gotten Mrs. Lane-Kent completely out of her foul mood. The thought crossed Elise's mind that his relentless encouragement and optimism made him their cheerleader, but the mental image of Mr. White with pom-poms cracked her up too much.

Even better, Mr. Kent seemed to have benefited from Mrs. White's presence during the trip. He was much less short-tempered and snappish when they unloaded the cars, even sparing his wife an apologetic look.

Once at the hotel, they took stock of their lot. They had netted three rooms together, each adjoining, and everyone stashed their luggage haphazardly. "Okay, kids, listen up," Mrs. Lane-Kent said, and Elise turned toward her attentively.

"This is the deal. You are staying here, where hotel security can keep half an eye on you. Hopefully Luthor doesn't know we're in the area, but if he does, he likely won't come after you here in a public place. Basic safety precautions: don't go out on the balcony where you're a sniper target. Don't open the door for anyone, especially not if you hear one of us outside. We've all got our room keys, so there's no reason we'd ask you to let us in."

She looked at the other three adults, then said thoughtfully, "In fact, if we are coming in, we'll call out the password to you so you know it's us and we're alone. The password will be … Bagel's full name. Got that?"

Elise nodded; she'd been around the family long enough to know that the sweet-tempered little beagle had been a nippy puppy, and was sometimes still affectionately called Bagel Bites after the snack food. But Luthor couldn't be expected to guess that.

"We're going to leave the adjoining doors open, so if someone does try to get in, hustle your butts to the last room and get out by the stairwell. You should be safe surrounded by people in the lobby." With the safety lecture concluded, Mrs. Lane-Kent hugged and kissed her son. "I love you, Jason. I wish you were safe in Smallville instead of here, but you're too much my son for me to be surprised."

"I love you, too, Mom," he replied, hugging her back tightly.

Everyone seemed to be preoccupied with leave-taking again, but Mrs. White decided she had a few final words to offer. "I know both of you came out here with honorable intentions," she told them. "But we'll be happier knowing you're as safe as you can be while we're all in the same state with Luthor. In the meantime, it hasn't escaped my notice that we're leaving two teenagers alone in a hotel room."

Elise felt her cheeks heat up with her blush as Jason's jaw dropped. But the designer wasn't finished. "You want to be treated like adults? Here's a chance to prove you're worthy of it. This is not a good time to resolve your differences and take advantage of the lack of supervision."

Jason was turning an incredible shade of red. "We know that," he stammered. "Geez, Lana, that's the furthest thing from my mind! And we're not even dating!"

"Good boy," she told him, and gave him a peck on the cheek before heading into the other room.

He turned to Elise with a look of such utter mortification that she couldn't help snickering a little in spite of her own embarrassment.