Couldn't find an appropriate quote for this one. Oh well. Hope y'all enjoy the latest chapter :)

Jenny slammed her hands on the top of Lois' cubicle, her dark eyes wide with something that could only be described as gleeful horror. As for Lois, the suddenness of Jenny's appearance startled her so badly, she dropped the CD she was about to slip into her computer drive.

"Good grief, Jenny!" Lois cried.

"Guess what?" Jenny whispered.

Lois bent to retrieve her CD. "Umm . . . you and Lombard are seeing each other now?"

"No!" Jenny laughed. "What do you think I am, a loony?"

Lois wiped the CD on her sleeve. "Okay . . . Perry is giving you an extra vacation day."

"No," Jenny said, unimpressed by this suggestion. She entered Lois' cubicle and bent down to eye-level with her seated friend. "I saw Madeleine at Starbucks this afternoon-with a date."

Lois rolled her eyes. "I've never been so glad to see an intern get a day off. She drives me up the wall. But what's so important about Madeleine at Starbucks-"

"With a date," Jenny added importantly. "An affectionate date. One who looked and acted like he'd known her a long time."

By this time Lois' patience was wearing thin. "Cut to the chase, Jenny."

"Guess who her boyfriend is?"

"Umm . . ."

"Glen Woodburn!"

If Jenny had said "Lex Luthor," Lois couldn't have been more surprised. She stared at Jenny, unable to speak, while Jenny went on in a hushed but excited voice.

"I was on the other side of the restaurant and Madeleine had her back to me, so don't worry, she didn't see me. But it was obvious they've been steady for a while, just by looking at them. It makes total sense. You told me the other day you thought she was spying on you, so maybe-"

"She's been reporting to Woodburn," Lois finished. Her mouth felt dry. She hadn't caught Madeleine snooping again but she'd had the uncanny feeling several times since then that someone was rummaging around in her cubicle-often. Lois had even combed her desk for recording devices, fearful that the FBI might be monitoring her for information about Clark Kent.

They wouldn't find anything, of course. She wasn't so careless. Any emails, voice mail, even a silly picture she'd taken of the two of them the other day-they never stayed on her laptop or phone very long.

But what had Madeleine seen or heard?

And even if she hadn't seen anything here . . . what if she'd been shadowing Lois, or the quiet young stringer?

"I think you should talk to Perry," Jenny whispered. "If Madeleine is spying for Woodburn, she needs to be ousted."

"I know," Lois whispered back.

"You don't think he's still trying to get information about you and Superman?" Jenny asked, wrinkling her nose. "Isn't that old hat by now?"

"Glen Woodburn doesn't think so." Lois grabbed the phone on her desk and pressed one button. "Perry? Can I have a word with you in your office?"

This time it was Clark who got an urgent text from Lois while he sat in his apartment, writing up his latest piece for Perry White.

Can I stop by your place real quick? she wrote. Need to talk.

He replied with a surprised affirmative and scrambled to tidy up his place. Like any bachelor flat it wasn't exactly in a pristine condition. His luggage from last weekend's visit to Kansas was still lying in a corner of the small hallway, while breakfast dishes lay forgotten in the sink.

By the time Lois knocked on his door, the apartment was halfway decent. She slipped inside, but peered up and down the corridor before letting him close the door behind her.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Not a ghost." She put her hands on her hips. "Glen Woodburn is spying on me. A regular NSA agent, he is!"

Clark narrowed his eyes. "How do you know?"

"His girlfriend is Madeleine Enderman. You know, the little redheaded ditz who's interning at the Planet? Well, I've been worried she was rifling through my cubicle. I caught her at it nearly two months ago, but she said she was looking for my stapler so I let it pass. But I've been having a bad feeling for a while . . . like someone's been rearranging things, trying to put them back where they belonged but doing a poor job of it."

"You don't have anything in there about me, do you?" Clark demanded.

"No, no," Lois said quickly. "And Perry's going to make her go. But if Madeleine is Woodburn's girlfriend, and if she's spying on me for him-then he's still after me, and you by extension."

Clark exhaled. This wouldn't normally bother him-except that Woodburn was clearly trying to use Lois to get to him.

That made him angry.

No, not angry. Furious.

"Do you have Woodburn's home address?" he asked.

Lois looked startled. "No, but it wouldn't be hard to find. Why?"

"I'm going to pay him a visit."

Her eyes widened. "You're not going to beat him up, are you?"

"Don't be silly," he said, smiling. "What do you think he wants most of all?"

Lois raised her eyebrows with a sarcastic look. "Probably for you and I to come out and quote Sonnet 116 to each other. On tape."

Clark frowned. "What does Sonnet 116 say?"

Lois blushed and waved her hand. "Look it up yourself, farm boy. No, in all seriousness, I'd say he wants to meet you. He probably thinks an interview or something would give his 'creeping cancer of falsehoods' some credibility."

Clark nodded. "Well, if Woodburn wants Superman, he'll get Superman-but it might not be what he expects."

Scaring Glen Woodburn late at night was far, far funnier than scaring Perry White. Clark had to fight back an outright laugh when he walked right through the open balcony door and into Woodburn's living room. The reporter was in the connecting kitchen and dropped a cup of coffee with a smash. Woodburn didn't even look at the mess. He just stared at Superman, mouth agape.

"Mr. Woodburn," Clark said. "I understand you've been wanting to see me for a while."

Woodburn stepped forward and slipped in the coffee puddle. He grabbed the kitchen counter and Clark bit the corner of his mouth to hide his amusement.

"I, uh, I don't recall asking for an interview-" Woodburn stammered.

"Not by normal methods, no. But hounding Lois Lane is certainly one way to get my attention."

Woodburn swallowed and adopted what he probably thought was a sauve demeanor. "Well, you know, we journalists do what we must to get a scoop. Even Miss Lane-"

"It's also a very unwise way to get my attention," Clark interrupted sharply.

He took up a notebook lying on the counter near Woodburn. The reporter stiffened, reached for it, then drew his hand back quickly. Clark scanned the lined pages, saw they were full of notes with the names of "Madeleine" and "Lane" sprinkled throughout. There was no mention, however, of a stringer by the name of Clark Kent-not that he could make out, anyway, behind Woodburn's atrocious penmanship.

Clark finally flipped to a blank page and extended the notebook to Woodburn. The journalist took it with a shaky hand.

"The world knows that Lois Lane knows me very well," Clark said quietly. "What the world doesn't know is that I trust her completely. I owe her a debt and I'll defend her and her privacy tooth and nail. You can quote me on that in your paper-and keep a mental note of it yourself."

Woodburn snatched up a pencil and made a note. When he looked up again, Clark glared at him. It was a fearsome look, not one to take lightly.

"Stop spying on Lois Lane," he said, "and you can ask me any questions you want right now, so long as I reserve the right to use my own discretion in answering."

Woodburn lifted his hands. "I'll leave her alone. I get you."

"Good, because if I find out otherwise . . ."

Clark drummed his fingers heavily on the countertop. He really had no intentions of harming Glen Woodburn at all, not even if the man broke his promise-but Woodburn had no way of knowing that. All he knew was that a massively-built alien well over six feet tall was in his house, and judging from the way he treated a certain other alien in the subway station, you didn't want to mess around with him.

"Spy games are over," Woodburn said. "I swear."

Clark stepped back from the counter, satisfied, and even allowed a more friendly look to cross his face. "All right then. I'm at your disposal."

"Uh, could we possibly reschedule for tomorrow so I can prepa-"

"No," Clark said firmly, but not unkindly. He intended to keep the upper, authoritative hand in this situation. "If you want an interview you'll have to take it now. I'm not available at any other time."

A couple of evenings later, Clark's flat echoed with the sound of Lois' laughter. They sat on the secondhand couch in his small living room, Glen Woodburn's article between them. Lois was almost hysterical.

"I can't believe you did that to him," she gasped. "Cruel and unusual punishment, Clark!"

"I told you he was getting a Superman he didn't expect," he said, grinning.

"You weren't kidding me!" She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, still laughing. "He probably thought he was going to get this lighthearted interview about what it's like being in the public eye after almost thirty-four years under the radar. Instead he gets this-this lecture on the consequences of biogenetics on your home planet and how we'd better not go down that road, and how it's all in Plato's Republic if we humans would just take the time to look . . ."

"Well, it's true," Clark said a little defensively. "I read that in school and it fascinated me even then. Now I know why. It shows what happens under a tyrannical government just like the one my real parents suffered under on Krypton."

Lois nodded, trying hard to be serious. "I know, I know. But I highly doubt Woodburn even knew Plato's Republic existed. He certainly wouldn't know what it's about."

"So he got an education," Clark said, shrugging. "And maybe his readers will get one, too."

Lois handed the article back to him with a wry smile. "I haven't had such a good laugh since we watched those YouTube videos last week. You should email the link to your mom."

"I already did-she loved it." He watched her gather her laptop and purse, wanting to keep her here just a little while longer. "Did Perry fire Madeleine?"

"Yep. This was her last day. I looked straight at her and asked if she thought the Spectator's interview with Superman was any good." Lois laughed again. "She turned almost as red as her hair and said she thought Superman was too cerebral for her taste. Imagine that!"

Clark crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, I'm terribly offended."

She simpered at him. "I'm just sorry you had to go through the torture of spending a whole evening with Glen Woodburn, just to get him to leave me alone."

"I hope it makes your life a little easier."

"Well, even if his good behavior doesn't last, at least you made an impression on him." Lois hesitated a moment, then stood on tiptoe and put her lips to his cheek. It startled him; he must've looked his surprise, for she laughed and squeezed his hand.

"Thanks again, farm boy," she said, and smiled affectionately at him as she left his apartment.