FREEDOM OF THE PRESS

Part Two - A Slight Deviation From The Plan

Today's the day, Clark thought, his throat constricted with nerves as he assessed his reflection in the mirror. His hair was perhaps a little slicker than normal - going for a kind of half way look between the two people Lois would be meeting as one in a few hours. Would she suspect him of being the mystery man about to spring his super-identity on her? Would she be disappointed that instead of some exotic stranger coming in to make a formal introduction, it would be plain old Clark Kent, the small town hack she was more used to treating as an office punch-bag than a lover?

Today's the day, Lois told herself again, still not quite able to believe it would actually happen, that Superman would come to her in a guise of normality and take her into his confidence, and maybe even into his arms, though that would require some privacy… She studied her appearance in the mirror; her outfit was perhaps a little sexier than normal, going for a look which would entice him and at the same time not be too racy as to draw attention from her co-workers. Clark would notice, of course. She was almost sure the farm boy committed every detail of her clothing and behaviour to memory in the first twenty seconds of their day.

Clark arrived for work a full hour early, and was honestly amazed when he strode into the lobby to see the elevator doors just closing, and Lois on the other side of them. She hadn't beaten him to the newsroom in nigh on five months, ever since one very extended lecture on his work ethic had led him to start setting his alarm clock much earlier than he'd like. He understood her eagerness to get in this morning, and he wished he was half as thrilled about the coming day as she was. She only wanted to see her hero in the flesh. He had to lay himself bare.

He set his jaw in determination as the elevator arrived to rush him to that meeting, and the moment he stepped out he saw Lois sit up as though she'd been stung, staring intently at the lift doors, no doubt hoping to see Superman's alter-ego standing there. Well, she does, thought Clark wryly as he watched Lois' expression drop. He smiled and waved as he strode down the ramp, trying for his usual bouncy step despite the lead in his stomach. Lois returned the smile, though it was clearly forced.

At her ever-so-slightly distant but cheery, "Morning Clark," he mentally reviewed his game-plan again. He'd ask her to step into the conference room for a moment, and there divulge his secret. Then he supposed he'd have to stand and take the torrent of abuse which would surely follow.

"Hey CK," Jimmy's bubbly tone was far more genuine as he stepped up to the pair of star reporters. "Did you hear the news?" Both Lois' and Clark's expressions told that they had not. Clark felt a wave of concern - what had Superman missed last night when he was lingering with Lois? If people had been hurt while he indulged his feelings…

Jimmy held out a sheaf of freshly developed photos. "I've been out half the night getting these - it's the same all over the city, twenty cases reported so far!" The picture showed a bedroom in chaos, the sheets torn and pillows stabbed, ornaments strewn all over the floor and furniture overturned.

Lois' eyes widened, "It happened to my place too!"

"Yeah? Aw, I'm really sorry Lois, but nothing was taken, right?"

"I-I'm not sure I didn't really…" she realised that she hadn't even bothered to check if anything was missing from her bedroom - she'd been far more occupied with Superman's visit.

"Well, none of the other places had anything stolen, but all of them were rifled through." Jimmy continued, his eyes ringed with lack of sleep but still excited. "It's like someone was searching for something specific, and tried looking in as many apartments as possible." His voice lowered conspiratorially, "No prints anywhere either… I'm thinking it's a poltergeist!"

Lois actually snorted at this before she caught Jimmy's slightly hurt look and covered up her scorn at the idea. Clark stepped in.

"Well, I don't know if a ghost could bust locks like that, but, well, we'll definitely look into it, right Lois?" He looked over his glasses at her, willing her to take the hint.

"Uh, yeah, sure. So, I guess we'd better go see Perry."

A short debriefing later, and the pair had their assignment. As anxious as he was about getting the major duty of today over with as he had promised, Clark had to admit he was glad of this distraction. They had a list of all the homes which had been broken into last night, and were doing follow-up calls.

"Hello, is that, err, Mr. Warner? This is Clark Kent from the Daily Planet. I wanted to ask a few questions about--"

"Mr. Kent, hello again!"

"Err, do I know you?"

"Sure do, you did a story on my farm a few years ago for the Gazette. It was before I moved to Metropolis. I'm a Kansas man, same as you."

Clark did remember: the Warners' farm had been at the centre of an archaeological dispute when some Native American artefacts had been unearthed on his land. The whole place had burned down under suspicious circumstances, but Clark had been key in getting Mr. Warner's insurance money. And now his city townhouse had been burgled?

As Clark worked on down his half of the list, he realised with a sickly dread that this was all to do with him. Every victim he talked to had had dealings with him before, not with Superman, but with Clark Kent. Some names he recognised straight away and some people recalled their involvement with him during the phone call.

They weren't all to do with the Daily Planet, either. Many cases went back to his early days in Metropolis, before his mother's sewing machine had helped create his colourful alter-ego. His next-door neighbour when he first came to town, who had been followed and threatened by her ex, a traffic warden who would have received a beating were it not for Clark's timely intervention, and a couple whose children got stuck in an elevator in his building had all had their homes violated too. And then there was Lois' apartment, which had clearly been broken into because of her connection with him.

Of course, Lois' calls were not turning up the same conclusions, but Clark took a look at her list and a little research confirmed his theory. What was the point of all this? None of the victims apart from Lois were in any way close to him, and in most cases whatever aid he provided them was not documented, not public knowledge. To link all these folk would take extensive research into his life, and who would put in that kind of effort? What did they hope to find in these bedrooms all around the city…?

Or maybe they weren't trying to take anything…with a shudder of dread Clark wondered if the perpetrators had been placing something in each of these apartments, then making it look like a spate of robberies, knowing that, at some point in the investigation, Clark would visit many, if not all of the sites.

Lois put the phone down and struck another name off her list, huffing restlessly.

"Well that was a gigantic waste of time," she complained, "I just spent a good ten minutes listening to this old man explain how he nearly died once trying to get a sofa down the stairs. Nothing to do with the break-in, he just launched into his life story!"

Clark didn't need the life story, he remembered all too well how he'd caught the sofa in the nick of time, grateful that the man was too exhausted to notice the extraordinary strength of the stranger who had come to his aid.

Lois wandered over and peered at Clark's list. "You got the same run-around, huh? I guess we'll just have to go talk to some of these people, see if we can't find the link--"

"Uh, great idea, Lois," Clark butted in, hoping she wouldn't hear his over-enthusiasm, "Why don't I start the visits, and you hit the public records office?"

Lois smiled her very familiar smile of superiority and patted his shoulder, the old-hand to the rookie, "Public Records? Kent, that's the most well-trawled and consistently useless source available to the journalist of today. But don't worry; it takes years to know this stuff." She strode towards the elevator, plucking her jacket from the back of her chair on the way.

Clark groaned. This wouldn't go well and he knew it. Within the first two or three visits Lois would get the connection and want to start digging into his past… also, he had to find whatever had been left there as a message or a danger to him, and he needed to do it quickly. Clark was honestly sick of trying to conduct a search as only he could whilst still trying to play the earnest but clueless 'Kent'. With a scowl of determination he reaffirmed his decision to get the truth out to his partner today.

He hurried after Lois, but before they made it up the ramp he heard the high-pitched ring of the elevator as it came to a halt. As was his habit, he used his x-ray vision to see the passengers of the lift before the doors opened, and his heart almost skipped a beat as a surge of fear rose within him. A second later Jason Trask was emerging, backed by his armed followers. His eyes fell on Lois, who had been poised to call the lift.

"Were you going somewhere, Miss Lane?" Trask asked in an overly friendly tone, bringing his pistol level with her chest. "I'd really rather you and Mr. Kent stick around for a while." With the gun he waved them back down the ramp into the crowded bull-pen.

"What do you want Trask? More polygraphs? Or just to get yourself arrested. The police are on their way, you know." Lois lied well under pressure, her firm tone giving nothing away.

Trask smiled, "Aw, that's a shame, because if that were the case, I'd have to kill whoever called them as an example to everyone." His eyes bored into hers, "That wouldn't happen to be you, would it?" Lois' flinty expression never faltered as he laughed dismissively and walked onto the balcony. She looked ready to launch herself at the man, or else shout some more inflammatory comments which may well get her killed, so Clark took her shoulders and insistently drew her back into the safety of the crowd.

Everyone in the newsroom was now frozen to the spot in alarm, eyes going from Trask, leaning casually on the rail, to the khaki-clad men who circled the room and took up strategic positions all around. Clark took stock of the threat instantly: eight soldiers with automatic weapons and Trask with his handgun - he could certainly take them all out, but in front of all his colleagues? In front of Lois? He'd have to slip away quickly and change… He felt even more sick with anxiety as he saw one more man exit the lift and set up a tripod and DV camera on the balcony, giving a brief nod to his commander as he began filming.

Trask drew himself up with an air of authority, surveying the newsroom from his elevated position. His eyes lighted on Clark again and a smug smile crossed his ragged features as he anticipated his victory. Clark shot back a look of undisguised hatred which only seemed to please the madman more. Trask cleared his throat and imperiously called the newsroom to order.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Colonel Jason Trask, of Bureau 39..." At this he took out his official-looking government I.D. wallet and displayed it around the room. There were murmurs of recognition from some reporters who knew of the man only since yesterday's article, and some angry mumbles from others, including Jimmy, who had risked his own life in Smallville to try to bring this maniac down.

Clark was tense. He barely dared to breathe as he scanned the room for possibilities of escape. He could sidle off through the crowd, of course, try to make it to the conference room and then jump out of the window, but not only would Lois and the others around him ask questions, but Trask, who was keeping one shrewd eye on him all the time, would almost certainly make something of it. He couldn't afford to make a scene, he knew, so he just stood as still as possible and kept wary eye contact with his would-be accuser.

The crowd parted as Perry White moved through the assembled reporters and news staff, his face set in stone and his eyes brimming with rage. His newsroom was sacred to him, and no one violated it without severe consequences.

"Listen here! This is my territory you're in, and I don't much care what government agency you say you're from. There'll be no guns, no hold-ups and no demands made in my newsroom!" His voice boomed even louder than most of the staff were used to, and they quaked in fear even though he was on their side. Trask, however, stood patiently as Perry's tirade ran its course, his face unconcerned and placid. When the editor fell silent, Trask spoke up again.

"Thank you, Mr. White, for making that clear to me. Now what I'm here to make clear to you, all of you..." he threw a meaningful glance at Clark which no one else seemed to notice, "Is that there is an intruder in your midst right now!"

"Yeah, you!" Jimmy retorted boldly. Trask fixed him briefly with an icy stare before continuing in a more patronizing tone,

"I don't suppose any of you ace reporters has ever managed to discover the true identity of Superman?" The collected journalists' interests were suddenly piqued. "What would you say if I told you he was right here, right now, among you?"

Heads turned this way and that, everyone hoping to spot a red cape nearby, and when they saw none, their glances became suspicious as they realized Trask's implication. It wasn't hard to guess what they were all thinking: It could be anyone.

Lois looked around too, her face drawn with concern. It was a shock to her as much as anyone that Superman was here this very moment, but at least she had been expecting to meet him today in the guise of a normal man.

Trask watched the journalists' expressions progressing from surprise to suspicion and smiled in satisfaction as one by one they turned to him, hungry for an answer, a revelation, and more than that, a story. The few photographers in the room had a firmer grip on their cameras now, and recording devices began to emerge from pockets in readiness. When all faces were finally turned to him and he knew he had them captivated, he raised his voice and his head, clearly addressing someone in the room, but not wishing to give away a location yet. For all that he was a military man, Clark found it hard to believe Trask had never been in show business.

"Superman!" He called, "You know who you are, and I think your fellow reporters would all appreciate you letting them in on your little secret. Or don't you trust your colleagues?" Trask knew that both as Clark and Superman, he had a profound respect for truth and his fellow man, and now played on his guilt at keeping his friends in the dark.

Above all, Clark cursed the awful timing of this showdown. It simply wasn't fair! He'd spent almost a year trying to work up the courage to revel himself to Lois, and last night's tender encounter had made his decision for him. He was going to tell her today! Maybe in the next hour his partner would have heard the truth from his own lips, he would have told her his reasons for deceiving her, asked forgiveness… If she found out this way, would she ever trust him again? Should she? He wondered if he should just whisper the words to her now, just so that she didn't think he had reneged on his promise.

"Why don't you come forward? Stop hiding!" Trask's imperious tone cut into Clark's thoughts, "Give yourself up! There's no escape now, no one's going anywhere till you show your face - your true face!"

Everyone was looking about again, staring intently at each of their colleagues in turn, and muttering fervent denial when someone else studied them in the same fashion.

He's started a witch-hunt, thought Clark, and it has to stop, but there's only one way... He drew himself up to face the event he had dreaded for much of his life. He would denounce himself as the alien in their midst--

"We've gotta take this nutcase down! Think, Clark!" Lois hissed beside him, "Maybe the fire alarm?"

It didn't seem strange to Clark that, with all the suspicious looks flying about the newsroom, Lois did not regard him with suspicion. His two identities were as different as they could possibly be, he'd made sure of that. In fact, none of his colleagues seemed to have considered him 'in the running' for being Superman. He was just that ordinary. Still, he was surprised that Lois wasn't as hungry for the revelation as their colleagues.

Lois was hungry for the truth, in fact at that moment she was desperate to see his face, not because of her job, not because of their relationship, but here, now, she needed to warn him. He had promised her last night to show himself to her, but that was nothing compared to what she suspected was about to happen. Her sharp eyes had picked up something others might not have - the top right pocket of Trask's camo-jacket bulged with an irregular shape. For all the elaborate spectacle he was putting on, Lois knew the man simply wanted Superman dead, and any minute now he would decide to ditch the preamble and just use the rock.

As Lois continued to whisper about possible escape plans, Clark felt a peculiar swelling of pride that Lois could be such a true friend to Superman, that even when it went against her usual reporter's instincts and her personal feelings for him, she would put aside her wish to know his secret and concentrate on ending this fiasco. Unfortunately, it was already too late for that.

"Well, I guess we'll have to give our alien friend a bit of a nudge if you're to get your Pulitzers, won't we?" Trask announced with malicious glee. Lois nearly cried out as he reached into his pocket.

"I was interested to read in this morning's Daily Planet about the rock called Kryptonite. I'm honoured to be credited with its discovery." Trask sounded like he was giving an acceptance speech for a Nobel prize, "But I thought it would be nice if you could see it in action. So let's play an endurance game, shall we? Two minutes of exposure, and we'll see who falls. You up for it, Superman? Or will you give up now and save yourself the embarrassment?"

Anger flared in Lois' eyes and she pushed her way a little further towards the front. Clark followed automatically in his instinct to protect her from Trask, but belatedly realized he was also moving away from his hiding-place in the rear of the crowd.

"Oh, quit the theatrics please! You sound like a bad game-show host." Lois taunted him, with absolutely no idea what good it would do except buy Superman a little time to come up with something… super. "Maybe you should have gone into TV instead of the military, then maybe you'd understand that Superman isn't a dangerous alien for you to take out, he's hope for a city full of depressed people. That's why he's in the papers--"

Trask cocked his gun, shutting up Lois' speech prematurely, "Perhaps you're right, Miss Lane. I should leave the drama to you people and do what I do best." His smile grew wider as he saw the sudden horror in Lois' eyes.

"No!" she cried as he snatched the lump of rock from his pocket, its green glow shining through his fingers.

The wave of pain hit Clark so unexpectedly that he could only barely conceal his reaction. He screwed his eyes up tightly and one hand flew to his stomach, but he remained upright and bore the sudden agony in silent rigidity, his pale face alone belying his condition.

The reporters looked around, their shrew eyes scrutinizing their nearest colleagues for signs of duress.

After a full minute, Clark's fixed mask was beginning to crack, and he lowered his head and swayed forwards involuntarily. Lois, just in front of him with her back turned, prevented him from falling and, wondering why Clark was leaning against her, turned to look into her partner's pained face.

Opening his eyes, he saw with somewhat blurred vision the questioning expression on her face, closely followed by dawning realization. Putting a hand gently on his upper arm to steady him, she cast a quick glance around and then whispered almost inaudibly,

"Clark! Don't tell me, after all this time..." but he wouldn't deny it now, even if he could gather his splintered thoughts enough to form a plausible excuse, there'd be no more lying from now on. Not to her, not to anyone.

Lois' chastisement was cut short as she saw the beads of sweat gathered on his brow and felt his trembling arm tense and spasm against the pain. "God, look at you! You're..." Clark closed his burning eyes again and nodded. Lois braced Clark upright with her hands on his arms, and at the same time tried to make the action as hidden as possible.

"This is impossible, Clark. You're imagining things!" There was desperation in her faint voice as she tried to explain away her partner's condition, but she knew it wasn't true even as she said it.

"Lois... I have to... have to get away from it, please..." Clark's hushed voice was becoming ragged and his breath came in snatched gasps. His eyes implored her, his best friend and so much more than that, to bail him out when even Superman was powerless to fight. Lois' brain, still reeling from the revelation of Clark's identity, dragged itself into coherence to run through the available evasive options, which, she found to her distress, were alarmingly few.

"Well, Miss Lane, we all knew you were close to Superman, but really..." Trask taunted her, drawing all eyes to where she stood supporting the rapidly degrading Clark, just as his weak legs gave way and he collapsed to the floor, accompanied by loud gasps from all over the room.

"Bring him out front." Trask gruffly ordered two of his men, who gave brief salutes to their commander then obediently waded through the gawping journalists to take hold of Clark's arms and drag him up the steps, depositing him unceremoniously on the landing.

"Don't--!" Lois began, pushing her way towards him so that she stood in the front row of the crowd, deterred from reaching him by the pair of armed men flanking his semi-conscious form.

"Don't what? Kill him?" Trask sounded incredulous. "Miss Lane, I'm removing an alien threat from your midst." The paranoid fanaticism Lois had seen him demonstrate back in Smallville was back, the act dropped. He looked from the suffering man at his feet to the crowd, his eyes earnest.

"Can any of you now deny that the person you all know as Clark Kent is not what he appears? He's been masquerading as one of us, hiding, waiting, gaining our trust as the heroic 'Superman', preparing the way for his people to move in on this planet and enslave the human race! Why else would he have a secret identity?"

"To protect himself from whackos like you!" Lois retorted, "Superman told us he's the last surviving one of his kind, and Clark..." Lois argument trailed off as she was again confronted by her own shock at finding out Clark's true identity.

Clark himself, meanwhile, was fading in and out of consciousness, hearing extracts of Trask's accusations but unable to answer the charges. Trask picked up where the irate Lois left off, moving to tower over his helpless captive.

"And Clark... well, let's have a little look-see shall we?" Bending down, he swatted away Clark's weakly defensive arms and snatched off the smart, metal-framed glasses which were the key feature of his disguise. He dropped them to the floor and casually crushed them under his boot. Next he ripped open Clark's white office shirt, tearing the material and sending buttons flying, to reveal the red and yellow 'S' symbol on Superman's uniform.

"This is your 'Super' man!" He announced grandiosely. "And you've all been so blind that you let him work right beside you, completely unaware as he studied you, gathered information and sent it back to his world! Maybe it's all of you that need glasses." He picked up the twisted frames and held them aloft triumphantly. "Now, aren't any of you going to take photos? After all, you've been so patient with me that I think you deserve this scoop."

At least five flashes went off before the yell came from the middle of the room.

"Hey, HEY! Cameras away people! Clark's still one of our own!" Perry's face still bore traces of the shock that had been similarly felt all over the room when Clark was dragged out front, but now he boiled with rage as Trask subjected his best reporter to this humiliation and continued torture with his still-exposed chunk of Kryptonite. He stalked up to the front of the room. "Get the HELL out of my newsroom," he growled menacingly, "And take that rock with you. If you ever come near Clark again, you won't be around to witness any so-called alien invasion, I promise you that."

Lois heard the steel in the editor's voice, but knew it was an empty threat. What could any of them do against a bunch of armed men? Only Superman could have saved them…

The Colonel was only amused by Perry's outburst, and with disgusting satisfaction he moved the Kryptonite closer to the suffering Clark, waving in front of his face like a baby's rattle, then pressing it into his limp hand. Within seconds, Clark's palm began to smoulder and he cried out once, but then quickly tensed and suppressed his forming screams, not willing to give Trask the satisfaction of hearing the Man of Steel beg.

Lois wiped the tears from her cheeks as she witnessed the atrocity. How long before he would lose consciousness, stop breathing? How long before Superman was murdered before her very eyes…?

Unexpectedly, Trask retrieved the glowing rock and deposited it back in his pocket. Clark let out the breath he had been holding against the pain and fainted. "I think that's enough for now," Trask said smugly, "It wouldn't do to destroy the only possible cure for the bio-warfare agent that his people have already inflicted upon our world."

"What?!" Lois' exclamation was the first one out.

"We'll know more once we get this alien into interrogation, but I want you all to take this down for your article: the one you call Superman is poison. I've tried to warn the Pentagon, the Department of Defence, the NSA, but they, like the rest of you idiots, have been seduced by his 'saviour' act! I tell you his very presence is toxic. The agent is slow to take effect, but it will, you'll see!"

The zeal in his eyes was truly frightening to behold. He made a curt gesture and all of the soldiers came from their places to join Trask on the balcony. Four seized Clark's arms and legs, preparing to haul the Man of Steel away.

He nodded at the cameraman, who quickly packed his equipment away.

"This tape will be on the news tomorrow at noon. You should thank me that I'm giving you a head start on the rest of the media. I think the Daily Planet should have the chance to explain how Superman came to be hiding in your ranks. Meanwhile I shall be attempting to save the world from his pollution."

He waved a hand and the four soldiers hefted Superman between them and carried his unconscious form into the elevator. The other men followed, with Trask leaving last. The lift doors closed and the whole newsroom breathed as one, both relieved that the immediate danger was gone and appalled at the fate of the man who was both their friend and hero.

Lois' mind had virtually shut down with the shock of it. The tears ran freely, but she could not blink, could only stare at the doors of the elevator, numb. At the touch of Jimmy's hand on her shoulder she turned and sank against him, sobbing hysterically.

Perry was already on the phone, peering out of the window to try and see the vehicle that was stealing Clark away. He demanded the police, the FBI, a SWAT team, anything they could get to the Planet office inside of five minutes.

The editor's towering fury seemed to reach into Lois' fogged mind and pierce her with resolve. A second later she was running for the fire escape, followed by Jimmy.

I'll get him back, she told herself harshly. Without a plan, a weapon or any super powers to use in his rescue, she had only the breathless affirmation to cling to.

She burst out into the lobby like a missile, sprinting across the marble floor and flowing through the revolving doors like they weren't there.

Right there on the sidewalk was a black van, the kind of van that just screamed 'kidnapper'. She dashed over to it, heedless of the danger, and yanked the back door open.

A weight crashed into her from the side, throwing her to the ground as the van erupted in flames. She felt a wave of heat engulf her as her head struck the concrete.

End of Part Two