A/n: Please read, review and enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own what is mine.

Chapter Two

Metropolis

Lois sighed as she finished the last paragraph of her report on the new Senate nominee. As far as reports go, this one was pretty bland and even she could admit that it lacked a certain...spark. Her usual wit was failing her and she only could thank God that the article wasn't needed for another two days, it would give her time to scratch and polish.

Scratch and polish.

She snorted quietly to herself and shook her head.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been ahead on her articles, had time to do more than a quick polish before handing it over to an associate editor for a good scratching and polishing. Addie was probably going to die of shock when she noticed how error-free all of her work had become... Or maybe not.

The overly pregnant editor had been taking on lighter loads of work as she moved closer to her maternity leave and had bullied almost every reporter in the building into proofreading their own work three times before submitting it to lessen her stress. Lois had been one of the last to conform to Addie's authoritarian rule – not because she didn't want to lighten the woman's load, but because she usually didn't have the time to be that editorial thorough. Perry was good at keeping her busy, knowing that she could handle more than one assignment if she didn't have a big story brewing. She would have been amazed that she had the time now, but she had noticed he had been handing her less and less.

Her stomach twisted sourly at the thought.

Louis had to fight to not look in the direction of Perry's office or toward the desk of a certain tall undercover superhero. Not that it mattered... he wouldn't be there. She hadn't missed the concerned glances from the staff and the undercurrent of worry that touched Perry's tone whenever they talked lately. The office knew something was up with her and Clark... they just weren't sure what.

A good portion of the office had been at his funeral and they had seen firsthand how close she was to the Kent family. To say that everyone had been shocked by Clark's return from the dead was something of an understatement. It had been an open casket funeral after all. Surprisingly, it had been Perry that had weaved the lie that allowed Clark to come back after Lois had revealed who Clark really was to him. His star reporter had fallen afoul of the criminal element while investigating another award-winning story. The destruction from Doomsday had created a golden opportunity for the Feds to fake Clark's death until those responsible for the threat against him were apprehended.

Somehow, Clark had produced a story from that packet of bullshit and that seemed to quiet most of the reporters at the Planet. The rest still asking questions were the ones that dealt with the typical page six news. They wanted the gossip.

How long had she and Clark been an item?

Had she been aware that he had faked his death?

She had been so distraught at the funeral, surely, she hadn't known – she must be furious.

Is that why they barely seemed to be talking? The tension could be cut with a knife.

If anything, those particular encounters had solidified Lois's empathy for people who had a distaste for reporters. She had told Victoria to mind her own damn business and to go chase after Bruce Wayne more times than she could count at this point. Still, she would rather have the gossip columnist's attention on her than on Clark.

Clark.

Again, she had to fight from glancing towards his empty desk. She had to fight the sharp pang that filled her chest at the thought of him. She wasn't sure if it was better or worse that he was away on assignment.

It had taken Lois months to admit that the man she had fallen in love with was gone... and she didn't mean dead. The relief, the joy that had overwhelmed her when the Justice League had brought Clark back had made her blind to the pain that encompassed him. She should have realized that coming back to life would be a traumatic experience, that there would be repercussions... She had just been so happy to have his gentle gaze and shy smile again... and he was Superman. She didn't think that he would be affected by everything so drastically. It was a stupid assumption. Clark wasn't impervious to the world, to emotion, if anything he felt it more than any ten people combined.

It took her two months to notice the nightmares. He stopped sleeping all together after she confronted him about it. She wished she hadn't said anything, because she was rather sure that the lack of sleep was what spurned the flashes of temper he had become prone to.

Nothing big.

Nothing violent.

At least not overtly.

It was little things, like his cell phone needed to be replaced on an almost constant basis. She had found it crushed to bits on more than one occasion. It was reports of restrained criminals packaged nicely for the police having to be carted to the hospital because their binds had been tethered a little too tight. There was a car thief that had limited use of the fingers in his right hand from a lack of blood circulation.

And she couldn't get him to talk about it. Whatever he was thinking, whatever he was feeling – she was sure it had to do with whatever he had experienced while he had been dead. But he had shut her out. Clark refused to talk to her. At first, he had smiled and reassured her that everything was fine that he was still sorting himself out. Lois couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she stopped believing that smile, but she had watched it become more brittle the more she pushed. He withdrew from her. And their relationship became something she couldn't recognize as a relationship.

She felt like a lighthouse on a dark foggy night, but the ship she was guiding was heading for the rocks anyway.

It took her ten months before she gave up and returned her engagement ring.

Eleven before he finished moving out of her apartment.

They were now on the official one-year anniversary of his return and he wasn't even here.

Lois swallowed against the sudden constriction of her throat. She wished Clark was here if only to reassure herself that he was at the very least physically okay, even if he wasn't mentally – emotionally. She missed him and it hurt.

It had hurt for a while now.

She sighed and sent her article to Addie. She would be taking the rest of the day off.

Russia

It was ridiculously cold.

Rebecca clenched and unclenched her fists in her pocket in an unconscious attempt to keep her fingers from going numb. Even while sporting a fur-lined coat and gloves that would put a clown's to shame the icy chill of Moscow's winter still penetrated enough to lick at her skin. She usually didn't mind the cold, her body ran a little warmer than most peoples, but today that chill seemed to have a bite. She wondered distantly if she was getting sick... She hadn't thought she could anymore.

"You were just supposed to get pictures."

The reprimand was clear, the Slavic intonation making its owner's annoyance all the more apparent. Rebecca didn't move her eyes from the group of children receiving medical care not one-hundred feet from her, "Anatoli, tell me what would have happened if I had just taken pictures?"

Chocolate eyes softened as they studied the young woman before him. She had tucked her dark hair into a loose braid, her grey scarf musing the strands lose. She should be wearing a hat, he thought gruffly, but didn't say as such – she looked tired. He tried to remember if he had ever seen her smile, "You would not be leaving Moscow."

"And those children?"

Anatoli sighed, "Would be someplace else."

Her eyes blue, almost violet in color flashed as she looked balefully at him, "Starved, scared, orphaned. How much would they fetch to the right buyers, Anatoli? Someplace else... you don't need to sugar coat things with me. I know what that someplace else would be for these children. Still could be."

"They will be safe, my friend. I will find them good homes, I promise." He briefly spared the small group a glance, "You were reckless."

"No one saw." Rebecca whispered and pulled her gaze away when a small boy began to watch her curiously.

Anatoli snorted, "There was lightening. It was so bright and it made the truck stop. The mean man wouldn't move after it flashed... Don't tell me no one saw. I have ten little somethings that saw and in today's world such accounts would not be taken as a child's imagination."

Rebecca sighed, not wanting to admit he was right. She used to long for the day where people who were different, special, could be acknowledged, and with the appearance and resurrection of Superman, the arrival of the Flash, and Aquaman, Batman, Wonder Woman said people seemed to be coming out of the woodwork. In many places, even accepted for their differences, but there were more still where such uniqueness was seen as dangerous or worse valuable.

In the last half-decade, Rebecca wasn't sure how many suspicious labs she had stumbled upon.

Let's see what makes the freaks tick, she thought bitterly. Her fingers flexing as if she was about to discover she was in one such lab.

This time it wasn't a lab she stumbled upon, but it was something dark enough to make her stomach twist in knots. She still wasn't fully certain what had made her detour from the main city to the more industrialized sections. She felt like she had been called – like some sort of invisible tether had pulled her to the warehouse that had held the kids. It didn't take much to recognize the Bratva guard outside...they crawled all over the city. It took even less to deduce the children's purpose once she realized they resided inside. There had been no signs of the usual strangeness that seemed to attract her into these situations. No odd flares of light or smoke, no hum of different in the air. Just a feeling to come.

No. These children were normal, if not traumatized, and she hadn't been about to watch them be sold to whatever sexual sadist that lurked out there.

So yes, she had acted. She didn't regret it.

Except for the pair of icy eyes that watched her from the back of an ambulance. The little towheaded boy that hadn't taken his eyes off of her since being pulled from the truck. Rebecca had noticed he said less than the others – more observant, shy, wary. She was rather sure that little boy was the reason she had found them all. He certainly hadn't been surprised by her sudden appearance.

She pursed her lips as she studied him. There were no indications that he was other like her... nothing obvious anyway. She just had a feeling. A feeling not too dissimilar to what had led her here.

She held in a sigh, "Have the boy go to Marvin."

Anatoli raised a brow and followed her gaze to the ambulance, "He's like us?"

She nodded, despite the fact that she wasn't fully sure, but her gut rarely led her wrong. She cut her violet gaze back to the bear of a man next to her. A small stirring of guilt pulled at her and she smiled sadly, "I didn't mean to make trouble for you, Anatoli."

Moscow was Anatoli's home and he needed anonymity to help people, people who were different, find safe havens. She feared she had just shown a spotlight on his presence.

The older man snorted, an amused twinkle entered his chocolate eyes, "Agh, you come to visit, I know to expect some excitement. You lasted longer than I thought. I owe Marvin money now."

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "You two need a hobby."

"Who has time for hobbies?" Anatoli grunted before nudging her towards his car. He had packed her belongings in the back and made sure to have new travel papers for her. She needed to leave, now, before the Bratva came to inquire about her, "Take the car. Don't call me until your safe."

Reluctantly, she nodded. She hated to leave, she felt like she had left things half done, but she understood the immediacy of her departure. She climbed slowly behind the wheel and found the keys still in the ignition. Anatoli cast her a brief wave and her lips twitched in a subdued smile.

He was in her rearview in moments and her phone was out and on speaker seconds after that. She listened to the dull ringing for a dull moment before the connection came thru, "Hamilton, this you?"

"Hey, Sporty." She intoned quietly, "My trip to Russian's been cut short and it looks like I'll be stateside for a bit... was wondering if you had any work for me?"

There was a brief pause and the clinking of glass trickled over the line. She must have interrupted his lunch, "I don't have anything for you in Gotham. It's actually quiet here for once, but hold on. I'm having lunch with a friend from another paper, let me ask him if he's got anything."

Things went quiet before strains of muffled voices filtered to her. She raised a brow as she realized that Sporty had merely put his hand over the receiver. She wondered if he knew how to work the mute button. Abruptly sound rushed back as a smooth baritone greeted her ears, "Ms. Hamilton?"

"Speaking."

"This is Perry White from the Daily Planet. Sporty tells me that you're a writer – a good one."

Rebecca felt her brow arch higher, "Is there a question in there, Mr. White?"

"Yeah, why haven't I heard of you?"

"I publish under a pseudonym." She replied blandly, "Rachel Wisen."

There was a long silence and she could almost hear the dots connecting in this man's mind, "The travel blogger?"

She snorted and felt shades of her father hover around her. How many times had she heard him say those same words, "Yes, Mr. White... the travel blogger."

"Huh...Look, I don't have any reporting positions open, but one of my associate editors is about to go on maternity leave – I was actually thinking of having my travel editor take over her workload. I could use you to take over his position. It'd be a temporary arrangement."

"Daily Planet is in Metropolis, right?" Rebecca asked after a moment. She didn't know why. She knew exactly where the Planet was and that it was a city, she had no desire to visit. Shades of her father indeed.

"That's right."

Yet, she found herself saying, "Temporary sounds perfect, Mr. White. I can be there at the end of the week."

"Good. I'll get your contact info from Sporty and we can finalize the details when I get back to my office. Have a good day, Ms. Hamilton."

"You too -"

He hung up before she had a chance to finish. Rebecca sighed, remembering vaguely that Sporty was much the same when in business mode. She chalked it up to a newspaper reporter quirk but was thankful for the brevity. It was going to be an interesting few months.