He had started kissing her collarbone again, working his way up to her earlobe, nipping it gently, and tweaking it with his tongue. His hands went behind her neck and she felt the top of her halter come loose, the fabric dropping below her breasts. He gently kneaded her breasts, his thumbs running over her nipples. Her nipples were growing hard.

"You are wearing too much," she announced silkily, pulling back just enough for him to pull his sweater off. She ran her hands over his soft skin, tweaking his nipples the same way he had done to her before reaching down to his jeans and undoing the button on his waistband. He quickly shed his boots and jeans. "Clark?"

"Um hum?" He was kissing her hair and untying the back of her halter top.

"Promise me you'll never leave me."

He pulled back, gazing into her eyes. His eyes were so blue, so sincere. "Lois, I swear to you, the only way I will ever leave you is through death. And I don't plan on dying any time soon."

"Good."

He went back to kissing her neck, finally working his way up to capture her mouth. She returned his kiss with a ferocity that surprised even her, capturing his lower lip between her teeth. He was strong, invulnerable, yet his skin was soft and warm, his hands gentle on her flesh. He guided her to the bed, forcing her down on the mattress.

"Now you're the one wearing too much," he observed, pulling off her boots and socks then moving up to the waistband of her jeans. She lifted her hips off the mattress as he unzipped her jeans and slipped them down over her legs, finally dropping them with her halter and boots. He pulled her to the edge of the mattress so that her buttocks were on the edge of the bed. He knelt on the floor between her legs and placed her feet on his shoulders.

"How's this?" he asked.

"Oh, God, where did you learn that?" she asked, letting herself float on the pleasure he was giving her. Her stomach was fluttering inside her, radiating out like heat from a flame.

"I read a lot," he admitted. "Plus much more often than not, when a woman screams, it's not a mugging or a rape. I have to watch sometimes to see which it is."

She raised her head to see his face, supporting her upper body on her elbows. He gave her a shy, almost embarrassed smile as he continued his ministrations. "You keep that up and I won't hold myself responsible for what happens next."

He smiled at her and leaned closer to her. She breathed in deeply, throwing back her head . She felt his warm breath, then the firm moistness of his tongue as he tasted her, his mouth seeking her innermost secrets.

"You taste good, you know that?" he said, taking a moment to look at her face. She knew she was flushed with arousal as she watched his mouth disappear between her legs again.

"Either take me or bring me, but stop teasing me," she said breathlessly. He lowered her feet and stood up. He lifted her easily and she threw her arms around his neck, clasping his hips with her legs as he settled her onto his shaft. She gasped as he entered her, electricity jolting through her body as he kneaded her buttocks. She rode up and down on him, bracing her legs on his pelvis.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers, more of a caress than a kiss. She parted her lips, darting her tongue into his mouth in a sensual dance that merely echoed the passion that was building inside her. She consciously clamped down, her inner muscles pulsing, squeezing in rhythmic contractions. She could feel the tension building, a flood of wants and needs, overwhelming, demanding.

She rode him harder, feeling the urgency of his hands on her ass as he supported her weight. She felt him pulsing inside her, his lips searing a path down her neck. He thrust harder against her, arching his back in a paroxysm of orgasm. She moaned in pleasure, her own body convulsing in an eruption of ecstasy.

Sated, he laid her on the bed, stretching out beside her. He propped his head up on one hand, caressing her face with the back of his free hand. "You are so beautiful. I can't believe how lucky I am," he told her, voice still husky with passion.

"I can't believe how lucky I am," she told him. "I know it sounds heartless and selfish, but I'm glad you were the one who survived. Not just because of the fallout your death would have caused for everyone, but because you are the one I want to wake up next to every morning." She watched the emotions flicker across his face, confusion, concern, wonder, love. "Don't get me wrong. I loved Richard. And I probably would have married him eventually if you hadn't found your way back. But, in his own way, he was consoling a widow, too. He knew I could never give him my whole heart."

"Lois, I know you loved him. You wouldn't have stayed with him if you hadn't," Clark said solemnly. "And I do recognize the risks of consoling a widow. I know there will always be a part of you that belongs to him, and nothing can change that. I don't want anything to change that. I am in love with a woman who cares passionately, whole-heartedly – who demands the very best from herself and everyone around her. A woman who has never been willing to settle for second best. A woman who told off Superman, loudly and publicly."

"Superman never lies," Lois said with a grin, "but I think Clark Kent kissed the Blarney Stone during his travels."

"Maybe," Clark said, lying back in the bed. "You'd like Ireland. Actually I think you'd like most of the islands. I did when I visited there. I even considered settling in London, but I decided I wanted to be closer to home. One time zone away instead of six."

"You'll have to tell me about your travels one of these days," Lois told him. "The real places you've seen, not llama races."

"I'd like to take you to see them," he said. "I've liked most of the places I've been to. But the place I really liked was Shetland. It was so different from Kansas, but the people were so much like the ones I grew up around. There was this one little old lady I used to visit who swore I was a blue-eyed selkie."

"That's a were-seal or something like that?"

"Yeah. They take on human form by shedding their seal skins," he told her. "Her name was Winnie and she lived right on the coast. She found me on her doorstep during one of the worst storms of the year, looking half-drowned. When she asked me how I got there I told her I'd gotten lost. In the storm I hadn't realized I'd landed on an island with only about five families living on it and the boat came with supplies only once a week." He chuckled.

"So she decided you'd swum to her island?"

"Yeah, pretty much." The familiar, far-away look came into his eyes.

"What is it?" she asked.

"A news bulletin," he said, listening. "A mine cave-in in Russia, a hundred miners trapped."

"Go," she ordered. "I'll be right here when you get back."

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, sped into the blue and red Suit and disappeared.

Unbridled capitalism has its faults, Superman was thinking as he surveyed the damaged mine and the causes of the cave-in. But then so does rampant militarization and dictatorship. The mine was an old one and had been producing coal for many years, both under the Soviet banner and now under the control of a private firm. Neither set of management teams had followed even the simplest form of basic maintenance and up keep. The timbers holding up the roof were old, the spikes rusty. And too rapid expansion of the mine into deeper veins had meant that safe engineering had not always been adhered to. It was one of the newer sections that had collapsed. The inadequate support structure simply hadn't been able to take the strain.

Superman had been able to quickly dig a side tunnel to gain access to the men trapped behind the collapsed section. He could tunnel more quickly and more safely than the heavy machinery humans needed to use, although even his tunnel wouldn't last if stressed by the vibration of machinery or an earthquake.

The miners and their families were grateful for his assistance and he had the opportunity to practice his Russian a little. It felt good to watch the joyful faces of reunited families as they hugged one another. Even the families of those miners he hadn't been able to save were grateful that he tried. The mothers and wives patted his back, murmuring their thanks through their tears as he brought out the dead. "Cпасибо," and "Большое спасибо" were phrases he heard over and over again. 'Thank you, thank you so much.' "Не за что," he found himself repeating. 'For nothing.'

The mine owners were unhappy that he hadn't simply cleared the cave-in so they could continue mining that section. He wasn't an engineer. He couldn't guarantee the safety of his own tunnel over the long term. He politely told them "No." They could fix their own problems and hopefully do it right this time.

As he sped back to the U.S. west coast, he considered the best way to get to story out to the public – not the Superman rescue part. If the mine owners and the Russian government had been doing what needed to have been done to keep their workers safe, Superman wouldn't have been needed. No, the part that needed to be told was that neither the government nor the owners were doing anything positive concerning mine safety. And nine men with families - mothers, wives, children – died because of indifference and greed.

Eduardo Valdez was heading up the Daily Planet's International section now. Superman decided to drop Eduardo a note on what he'd observed in Russia. Maybe the power of the press would provoke some changes – if so, then that would save more lives than Superman ever could.

"GNN had a live feed from the mine accident," Lois told him when he came through the window and sped into his regular clothes – sleep shorts and a t-shirt. Lois had put on a satin nightgown and was watching the news from the bed. "It looked bad," she added.

"It wasn't good," he admitted, booting up his computer. "Nine dead, twenty injured. Most of the rest are going to end up with miner's lung if they don't have it already. I'm going to drop Eduardo a note on what Superman observed while he was there. Make a strong suggestion that the Planet do a series on mine safety internationally, maybe suggest that workplace safety is a human rights issue."

"You know he's just going to ask Perry to assign it for you to do," she told him. "Eduardo so wants you in International. I don't think a week goes by that he doesn't ask Perry to transfer you."

"I like City," he told her, typing away on his computer. "But Perry has been dropping hints about moving me to International anyway."

"As much as I'll miss you as my writing partner, I think it'd be a good move for you," Lois said. "A lot more freedom, a lot more time out of the office."

"We've been married a whole twenty-nine hours and you're trying to get rid of me already?"

"Hey, I've got to look out for my husband's best interests, even if he won't look out for himself," Lois told him with a smile. "Besides, Perry told me there was a pretty good raise attached to it. And since you now have a family to support…"

He smiled, tapping the 'enter' key on his keyboard to send off his note to Eduardo using one of his alternate e-mail accounts. It wouldn't do for Clark Kent to be sending Superman's observations to the Daily Planet.

"And here I thought you were going to turn me into a kept man," he told her, a broad grin splitting his face as he turned off his computer.

"Come here, boy toy," she ordered. "It's time to go to bed."

He slipped between the sheets beside her. "Isn't it a little early to go to sleep?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Who said anything about sleeping?" she asked, slipping her hand beneath his shirt and kissing the corner of his jaw.

Morning came too soon. Lois groaned – it was still dark out. She reached over and found the other side of the bed was empty, cold. But there was a welcoming scent of coffee in the air.

"If you want to come along, you'd better get cleaned up," Clark told her. She could only see his outline as he stood in the bathroom door towel drying his hair.

"You don't trust me alone in Napa?" she chided.

"In Metropolis, yes," he said. "I'd pit you against any thug in the city. But here? Not a chance. Besides, I figure you can use the time to do some more digging into Miller's financials. Dee Dee sent along some interesting stuff this morning. So did Bobby."

"Such as?"

"A clerk in Griffin's office allegedly committed suicide last night," Clark told her. "She was found this morning sitting in her car in a locked garage. But according to Bobby, the family's pressing the police to do more digging. They don't buy that she was suicidal and she was too smart for it to be an accident. They think her new boyfriend did it."

"And her new boyfriend?"

"A tall, distinguished fellow with an English accent," Clark said.

"Nigel Smith?"

"I've asked Bobby to take a photo of Smith over to the family to see," Clark told her. "But I'd be willing to bet on it. And Smith? FBI has finally admitted he's really Nigel St. John and he was one of the key men in LexCorp before Luthor lost his mind and lost the company."

"What did you find in the financials?" she asked. She climbed out of the bed and followed her nose to the mug of coffee on the nook table.

"Financials are not my strong suit," he reminded her. "But, as near as I can tell, Miller's research was being funded by a company called ALC Biological. That company is a subsidiary of L&L Agrochem which is the North American division of Baykor which shares many, if not most of its board members with Dayton's, which is now the parent company of Church Industries, current owner of Price House, Costmart, and La Inglesia winery."

"And Price House and Costmart were known fronts for Intergang," Lois reminded him. "At least they were until Bill Church Senior went to prison. So that might be our link between Church and Miller."

"Maybe, but which Church?" Clark asked. "Bill Junior or Mindy? He was still in prison when Miller left STAR Labs. He supposedly lost control of both his business and criminal empires, and Dayton's acquired the Church companies after Bill Senior's death. So the link is there, but it's not exactly a direct one. Then there's the question of why ALC or L&L would support Miller's research without bringing her into one of their labs?"

"Let me get showered and dressed and I'm pretty sure I can find out," Lois told him.

Lois settled in at her desk, ignoring the odd looks she was getting from her co-workers.

"I thought you and Clark were on your honeymoon?" Jimmy finally asked her.

"Clark had a few things to take care of that he couldn't postpone," she told him, loudly enough to be overheard at the desks closest to hers. "I thought I'd put the time to good use." As she spoke she skimmed through the data research had sent her. There still didn't seem to be a strong connection between the companies associated with Church Industries and Miranda Miller, then she spotted it: two press announcements. By themselves they were both innocuous. Together…

The first was an announcement that ALC Biochemical had been awarded a military contract, ostensibly to develop easily administered vaccines against those diseases deemed most likely to be used in bioterrorist attacks. That was a little odd in-and-of-itself since ALC Biochemical had never worked with vaccines before. ALCB also announced plans to move that part of their operation to California.

The second press piece concerned the success of Miranda Miller's cosmetics business and its association with Price House. In selected markets, Price House would be carrying Miranda's exclusive cosmetics and perfumes having been personally selected for inclusion by Mrs. Church. But it was the photograph that clinched it – Miranda Miller was standing next to Amanda Church, both of them beaming at the camera like fast friends.

Lois picked up her phone and called down to Dee Dee in research.

"Dee..? I've got a photo here of Miranda Miller and Amanda Church together. Can you find out when they met, mutual acquaintances, that sort of thing?"

"Already working on it," Dee Dee said. "And I'm sending what I have to you now."

"Can you give me a quick rundown?"

"Miranda Miller worked for LexCorp before moving to STAR Labs, but before she left, she was dating Luthor himself. There was a big stink because he cancelled her research project and broke up with her. She swore to get even with him. Then he went off his nut."

"Coincidence?"

"Who knows?" Dee Dee said. "But here's something else. Before Amanda Church got married she was Amanda Mariel Mosby. Amanda Mosby has a degree in biochemistry from UCLA and she also worked for LexCorp. She was Miller's assistant."

"You're joking," Lois told her. "Wasn't there a Mosby involved in organized crime in Chicago a while back?"

"David Mosby. Killed in 1995 in what was assumed to be a botched robbery but there were suspicions he was murdered in a territorial dispute with Intergang. He had a daughter named Amanda Mariel."

"And then she married the man who ordered her father's death?" Lois asked disbelief.

"That's what it looks like. I've sent copies of everything I found over to you."

"Uh, Dee Dee? Why didn't any of this show up when Clark and I asked for it five months ago?" Lois asked.

"Um, could be because I wasn't the one originally working on it," Dee Dee told her, but her tone indicated she was joking. "Actually, it's taken us nearly that long to get all this put together for you. Somebody really did not want Mindy Church to be found out."

The trial resumed at 9 AM on the dot. Superman was the first one called again.

District Attorney Griffin looked tired and worried as Superman walked down the center aisle towards the witness stand. Judge Page was in slightly better spirits. "Just a reminder again that you're still under oath," she said.

"Yes, your honor," he said. "Hopefully things will go more smoothly today than yesterday."

"I think we're all hoping that, Superman," Page said, motioning for him to take his seat.

He arranged his cape and sat, forcing himself to keep his hands at his waist, hands folded.

"How are you feeling?" Cross, the defense council, asked. Unlike the day before, he seemed worried, eyes darting about as though expecting something to happen.

"Much better, thank you Mister Cross," Superman answered.

"Good… good," Cross said absently. He looked back at his client and Superman followed his gaze over to the defendant's table. William Church Junior looked like he'd aged ten years overnight. He was still as impeccably dressed as he had been all through his trial, but to today he seemed just slightly unkempt, as though he hadn't cared to make sure his tie was perfectly tied or that his suit had been properly brushed. There was a haunted look in his eyes.

He turned his attention back to Cross who had begun pacing in front on the witness stand.

"Kal-El," he began finally. "May I call you that? I mean Superman sounds so…?"

"Pretentious?" Superman suggested with a small smile. "That name was given to me by the press. Kal-El is fine."

"Kal-El," Cross started. "I'm still having a hard time understanding why you, the Daily Planet, as well as the police, began investigating my client in the first place. A judge in good standing heard his appeal on his first conviction and legally overturned it, albeit on a technicality. The D.A.s office chose not to pursue the matter any further. Why were you so intent on pursuing my client?"

"As I testified earlier, Mister Church was seen at the scene of a fatal arson fire. Subsequent investigations proved that he was also either present at, or aware of other arson fires in the same area."

"Did you personally see him at that first fire?"

"He was seen by Clark Kent and Lois Lane of the Daily Planet at the third fire."

"The third fire, but not the first or second? And you trust their observations? You have no reason to believe that they were mistaken or had an ulterior motive for claiming my client was present?"

"I have no reason to disbelieve them," Superman stated calmly. Cross's line of questioning was not unexpected.

"Have you met Amanda Church?"

"I know of her, but I have not met her." Superman hadn't met her, but Clark Kent was embarrassed to admit he may have been taken in by her.

"Are you aware that my client believes that Missus Church is involved in trying to frame him for crimes he didn't commit?"

"I have heard that, yes."

"Have you considered looking into the possibility that William Church is not guilty to the crimes he's being accused of?"

Griffin stood up. "Objection, your honor. Asking Superman his intentions in regard to Mister Church is hardly appropriate at this time."

Judge Page took a deep breath. "Mister Griffin, although you may be technically correct, I admit to being curious about the witness's answer." She nodded to Superman. "Please answer the question."

"Until the events of the past few days, I had seen no evidence that would sustain Mister Church's belief that his step-mother was involved in any criminal activity."

"And what has happened in the past few days that may have changed your mind?"

"The attacks in Napa, California and here," Superman answered. "I have no reason to believe that Mister Church was not one of the intended victims."

"And you now believe Missus Church is involved?" Cross asked.

There was commotion at the back of the courtroom as the doors opened and Lois Lane and William Henderson hurried up the center aisle to the prosecuting attorney's table. Griffin turned to Judge Page. "Your Honor, excuse us a moment."

Page nodded and Lois and Henderson spoke quickly to Griffin, showing him the papers Lois had pulled out of her briefcase. After several minutes of discussion, Griffin stepped over to Cross, handing him several sheets of paper. Cross scanned the documents, looking wide-eyed at Griffin, then Church.

"Your Honor," Cross began, walking toward the judge's bench. "New information has come forward that drastically changes this case."

Page looked over to Griffin. "Mister Griffin, do you wish to discuss this development in chambers?"

"Yes, your honor," Griffin said.

Page turned to Superman. "You're excused for the time being, Kal-El," she said. "This court is recessed for one hour," she announced.

"Uh, Lois, what did you find?" Clark asked, walking into the courtroom to join her and Henderson. He was in his standard three piece suit once again. She gave him a smile, took his arm and led him out into the hallway. Henderson followed them.

"We finally got a bead on Amanda Mariel Mosby Church. Daughter of David Mosby the racketeer – degree in biochemistry and Miranda Miller's assistant at LexCorp," Lois told him.

"And neither Griffin's people nor Cross's found this out?" Clark asked. Lois shrugged eloquently. Henderson just shook his head. "Wait. Wasn't David Mosby supposedly murdered by Intergang?"

"Yeah, but nothing could be proved," Henderson told them.

"And we have a more recent link between Amanda and Miller as well," Lois added. "Amanda personally chose Miller's cosmetics for Price House."

"But, uh, we still can't link Missus Church to Miller's poison research," Clark pointed out. "Or can we?"

"La Inglesia Winery," was Lois's response.

A/N: the story of Winnie and the Selkie comes from the L&CtNAoS fic A Gift From Shetland by Chris Carr.