"To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved."

-George MacDonald

Meet me in the park after work.

That was all Clark's text said. He'd spent most of the day with Steve, familiarizing himself with the office and the inner workings of the bull-pen. For once Lois was thankful for Steve's extroverted personality. It saved her and Clark an awkward situation of being alone together in the Planet building. She wasn't sure what she would've said to him in that case.

As soon as it was time for her to leave, though, she made a beeline for the recently re-opened city park. It was five o'clock and the sun would be nearly gone in about an hour. In any other circumstance, even Lois wouldn't have liked being in the park at that hour, not with the possibility of looters and ne'er-do-wells who still lurked through the recovering city at night.

But I guess you don't have to be afraid of much when you're on your way to meet Superman, she thought.

She entered the park and glanced around. The purplish twilight cast a sleepy, peaceful aura over the area, though the noises of reconstruction still thundered on all around it. A few people cut across the park on their way home from work, but for the most part it was almost empty.

Lois moved slowly, her arms crossed over her chest, looking over her shoulder. Part of her was afraid she wouldn't recognize Clark at a distance, he'd been so different at the office . . .

"Miss Lane?"

The deep, rich voice was unmistakable. Lois looked ahead and saw, a few yards away, Clark Kent sitting at a picnic table. He leaned forward with his hands clasped between his knees under the table. A book lay open before him and he was smiling.

Lois stood dumbfounded. Clark closed the book and moved to stand. The motion roused her and she quickly raised her hand to stop him. She hurried forward and sat down on the opposite side of the table, settling her computer bag on the bench beside her.

"Glad you could make it," he said.

Lois opened her mouth to speak, then lowered her eyes and laughed shakily. She covered her forehead with one hand.

"I'm glad you told me to expect you at some point," she muttered. "Otherwise I probably would've screamed to high heaven when I saw you."

"No, you wouldn't have," Clark said calmly. "You've got your head screwed on tight enough, you would've handled it beautifully."

Lois lowered her hand and leaned forward, keeping her voice at a whisper. "But-the Planet-a stringer? Is that why you were asking me all those questions about journalism a couple of weeks ago?"

He grinned. "Yep."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to surprise you," he said honestly.

"You did!" she laughed. "I love your new look. Who helped you perfect that?"

"Well, it was a joint effort between my mom and Perry-"

Lois almost fell off the bench. "Wait-Perry knows?"

"I didn't see how I could get away without telling him," he whispered. "Besides, I knew my secret was safe with him. He was the one who refused to publish your story because he was concerned it might throw the people of Earth into confusion. It could've been the biggest story the Planet ever ran, but he put principle over profit. That says a lot to me."

Lois smiled. "You're right. If Perry has given you his word of honor, you can bet he'll keep your secret."

Clark gave his dark head one slight, regal nod. Lois drew back with a frown.

"No, no, Clark, don't do that."

He looked startled. "Do what?"

"Don't nod like that." She imitated him. "Kings and princes and Kryptonian noblemen incline their heads like that-not lowly stringers living from paycheck to paycheck."

Clark flashed her a broad grin. "I'll make a note of that, Miss Lane."

"And you're not slouching nearly enough. Come on, slouch like you mean it!"

He lowered his shoulders accordingly, looking more and more amused by the second.

"And don't look at me over the tops of those glasses," Lois said, snapping her fingers at him. "You're a nearsighted bookworm, remember? A nerd. You're a dork, Mr. Kent, and dorks are fastidious about their glasses."

"But not their posture?" Clark asked, teasing.

"Gosh, no," Lois said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Dorks never care about their posture."

With that, she reached over the table and pushed the glasses further up the bridge of his nose. That's when she heard it.

He laughed. Quiet, but warm and mellow and happy. Lois froze, still leaning over the table, and stared at him.

"I made you laugh," she breathed.

"It's not the first time," he said, smiling.

"But it's the first time I've heard it."

"I hope it isn't the last."

She felt hot all over; she sat back, her heart pounding, and tried to change the subject. "So you're going to be a freelancer. Are you staying here in Metropolis?"

"I've rented a flat on Markham Street. I'll go home every other weekend. Now that I'm not a wanderer anymore, Mom wants to have me with her every chance she can get."

Lois tried to conceal her delight and relief. "That seems like a good arrangement. And even if there isn't some major world crisis, you can still help with smaller, simpler things, can't you?"

"I hope so," he whispered, with a cautious sweep of his eyes around the park. "I don't want to interfere much with the rebuilding. I expect people want to do their own work with their own hands. But I could still help out with a major wreck on the highway, or go to the Gulf Coast this summer for hurricane recovery, or even keep an eye and an ear out for terrorist activity. There's plenty for me to do, and now I'm not afraid to do it."

"Well, working at the Planet will give you the chance to catch all the breaking news stories," Lois said. "And I'll be glad to be working with you. Even though we won't really be in the same department, we'll still be colleagues-and I'm not the kind to look down my nose at the stringer pool, believe me."

He shrugged sheepishly. "I'll admit, part of the reason I wanted to work with the Planet was so I could see you more often."

She looked away, embarrassed and delighted.

"If we hadn't been writing these past six months, I probably wouldn't feel this comfortable with you," he added. "You don't want to know how shy I used to be around women."

"Including Chrissy?" Lois asked mischievously.

"Who?"

"The girl in the Vancouver bar where you used to work," Lois said. "I talked to her while I was tracking you down last year."

"I could count on my fingers how many words I said to Chrissy. She talked more to me than I did to her." He raised an eyebrow. "You sure did a lot of snooping, didn't you?"

Lois gave him an arch look. "I did an awful lot of snooping for the sake of my mystery man, believe you me."

Clark shook his head. "I had no idea what I was getting into when I first met you in that ship, did I?"

She laughed. "Ever wish you'd've ignored me?"

"Of course not," he said with such gravity, she wondered if he even realized she'd been teasing. "I didn't have any idea what I was getting into, but I don't want to try to get myself out of it, not now that that I've gotten to know you."

He reached over and clasped her hand before she could reply. "I want to take this slow. Heaven knows who's still watching you or who might give me a second glance if this disguise doesn't take-but you're the only person besides my mother who I know I can trust completely. I want to be your friend, Lois. More than your friend. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Lois braced herself to meet his gaze. "Yes . . . I understand."

"Do you even want to pursue this . . . relationship?" he asked, frowning. "Beyond the emails, I mean?"

Lois squeezed his hand. "Yes-yes, of course I do. You didn't think I'd say 'no,' did you?"

"I wasn't sure," he admitted. "I've made your life a lot more complicated and this'll make it even more so."

Lois rolled her eyes with a laugh. "Well, what's a little more drama in my life after what happened in September? I think I can handle it."

He walked her home that evening and they talked all the way-but not about anything that would require secrecy. It was more the lively, cheerful conversation of two friends who've known each other a long time and felt the freedom to spar and tease and ask the oddest questions.

At her front door she turned and faced him, not sure exactly what to say or do. She'd never been walked home before. Oh, a few fellows had asked to do it, but Lois had always refused them. The level of her graciousness depended on whether or not she liked the guy or not. Clark looked awkward, as well, and slipped his big hands into his pockets.

"Well . . . I'll see you again soon," he said. "Keep up the emails."

And with that he moved as if to leave her front step. Lois reached out and grabbed his arm. It was solid with muscle. Clark flinched, and she suddenly realized it was the first time she'd ever taken the initiative to touch him. She wondered, too, if someone else's touch was something he'd avoided for years.

"Clark," she murmured, "I want to thank you for . . . for wanting to take this slow. I've never, umm, never been in a real relationship. With a guy."

"I'm surprised," he said, gently. "I would've thought-"

"Well, I've put up some pretty high barriers. I didn't want what happened to my parents to happen to me. This is the first time I've ever thought that maybe not every relationship has to end with both hearts broken . . ."

Lois ran a hand through her hair, trying to grapple with the emotions rising up in her chest. Clark took her hand.

"Well, I don't want to break your heart," he said. "You have my word on that one."

She forced a shaky smile in reply. He squeezed her hand, gave her one of his signature nods-she forgot to correct him-and turned away.

That night six months ago, when he'd kissed her goodbye, seemed very faraway. They were in a new phase, and he really was taking it slower.