It was probably a good thing he hadn't eaten anything that morning or had coffee, for that matter. Because the closer the train got to the Metropolis station, Clark's stomach was turning over with a bad case of nerves.

He'd taken his hat off once he'd found a seat and spent the rest of the trip nervously fingering the brim. He hadn't put the glasses on yet because he wanted to wait until the last minute before donning the uncomfortable frames. They pinched his nose and it was a constant battle to keep from tossing the damn things away.

But it was a necessary part of the ruse to convince people that he was nothing more than a reporter. And if that ruse meant that it was going to keep his family safe, then he would do it for them.

The conductor walked through the car and announced the next stop was going to be Metropolis. And as the train lumbered to a stop, the wheels screeched against the rails making the car shudder before it came to a jerky stop.

Clark put his hat on and picked up the briefcase that he'd set between his feet, to head for the closest door. He'd forgotten how much he disliked the morning crowds as most everyone debarked from the train and disbursed into the station.

His feet had no trouble remembering where to take him, so when he suddenly found himself in front of the Daily Planet Building; he was at a loss as to how he got there or when he'd put on the glasses. With a push on the revolving door, it all came back to him as he walked to one of the open elevator cars.

The elevator operator asked him what floor he wanted and Clark requested five.

When the car was full, the operator pulled the outer door closed and then the inner before he pressed a button on the panel and the car dipped softly before it began its ascent. They stopped at every floor along the way with some murmured complaints about how the first floor people should have taken the stairs.

He resisted the urge to laugh, recalling the same complaints when he had been at the Planet the last time. His hands started to shake as the operator called the fifth floor and Clark had to work his way out.

Some things never change.

There were inquisitive looks from people as he walked toward Mr. White's office, most of whom he didn't know. And he couldn't help but wonder how many had been called up for the draft, or had enlisted.

Perry White was standing in the doorway as Clark approached and the older man was grinning. "Welcome back, Kent. The Daily Planet is happy to have you, even if it is temporary."

"It's nice to be back, Mr. White." He took the hand the editor extended to him and shook.

"How is your lovely bride?" He asked conversationally as he indicated his office.

"She's fine, sir." Clark told him and when he walked inside, Mr. White closed the door behind him. He kept the pleasant look on his face, having to know some of the staff members would be watching, but dropped the casual tone.

"Mr. Kelly told me that she's expecting?" A look of worry passed across his face as he indicated a chair for Clark to sit before he sat down in his own chair.

He felt his face warm and nodded as he sat, setting his briefcase on his knees. "She is."

"Son, at the risk of sounding indelicate; you kids didn't waste any time, did you?" He chuckled and sat back, seeming to enjoy the younger man's embarrassment.

"We hadn't planned on starting our family so soon." Clark shrugged. "But then we hadn't planned on a lot of things, either."

"As my sainted mother used to say, 'Everything happens for a reason.' " He remarked before he sat up. "Well then, let's get down to business. As far as anyone on this floor knows, you're here on a temporary assignment from The Kansas City Star because two of my reporters just enlisted.

"I'll assign you stories that you can work on that won't interfere with your investigation, just like last time. And I'll give you your old desk back, seein' as how it's been unoccupied since you left." He pushed his chair back and stood up. "Did you bring some pictures with you like I suggested?"

Clark nodded and stood up across from him. "They're in my briefcase."

"Good." He nodded as he walked to the door and opened it, again adopting his conversational tone. "I'll get you settled at a desk and when you're ready, head on over to the Regent Hotel. Some three star job from Fort Ryan is going to be holdin' court in the ballroom there for local newspaper and radio reporters at ten o'clock. In fact, I think you might know him; General Sam Lane?"

What were the odds?

"General Lane is my father-in-law."

It hadn't seemed to occur to the older man about their connection and he got a thoughtful look on his face. "So he is. Do you think he would be willing to talk to you one on one? It could be a hell of a scoop for us."

"If he has the time, I don't see why not." The two men stopped at Clark's old desk and he couldn't help but smile.

'Besides, without me here, you would have spelled Tex Beneke's name wrong again.'

'I wouldn't have spelled his name wrong in the first place if you hadn't been trying to distract me.'

'I didn't hear any complaints earlier, buster.'

'You never gave me the chance.'

"Good memories?" The amused query made him laugh softly and he nodded.

"Very good."

"Glad to hear it." He put a hand on Clark's shoulder. "When you're ready to leave, just let me know. I gave the Olsen kid the assignment to take pictures and he'll be there waiting for you."

"Will do." He assured Mr. White before the editor headed back to his office and closed the door.

Clark set his briefcase on his desk, took off his hat and hung it on the nearby coat rack. He couldn't help but feel the sense of déjà vu as he unbuttoned his overcoat and shrugged out of it, hanging it next to his hat. How many mornings had he done that the last time?

He sat down in the chair and opened the briefcase. There wasn't much to speak of inside, but he figured that it wouldn't be the case when he went home that evening. But wrapped carefully in cheesecloth were the pictures that he and Lois had picked out. The idea was to show that he was very much a family man, which he really was, because he didn't want to run into his previous problem of unwanted attention.

This time though, he had the added advantage of his wedding ring.

Clark unwrapped the three pictures he'd brought with him and set them up where he could see them. He'd brought back the picture of him with his parents when he'd graduated from Central Kansas. This time around, he also brought a picture of him and Lois, his parents, her father, sister and nephew taken at the Fort Ryan chapel after their wedding. And the last was a picture his mother had taken of him and Lois on Christmas Day, kissing under the mistletoe.

They'd been doing a lot more than that, not long before then.

He felt his face warm when he thought about how they'd taken advantage of an unexpectedly empty house that morning after his parents had taken Lois's family on a tour of the farm after breakfast.

'Come on, G-man; where's your sense of adventure? You know they're going to be gone for at least a half-hour, seeing as how Dad will want to show Lucy and Michael how much he knows.'

He loved that about her, her sense of playfulness; but it never came at the expense of his parents. Lois loved them almost as much as she loved her own father and she would never do anything to deliberately embarrass them.

If there hadn't been time, she never would have suggested it. But as soon as the door closed he found his hand in hers as she pulled him up the stairs behind her, telling him if they didn't bother with preliminaries they could be back downstairs before their family was any the wiser.

But as the group approached the house forty-five minutes later, Clark was certain they knew how he and Lois had spent their time. It didn't matter that they got back downstairs and had bundled up to sit on the porch swing with her arm tucked through his; Mom just took one look at them and laughed softly. And when they all got to the porch, he and Lois stood up and Mom hugged her.

An amused glance from Lois's father and a smothered grin from his own father and her sister told Clark what they were thinking; 'Newlyweds'.And that was before they'd left for the Regent and subsequently had to turn around and come home.

With that memory swimming around in his head, he checked his desk drawers for paper, notepads, typewriter ribbons, correction erasers and pencils; the desk had been fully stocked. He pulled out a notepad and a freshly sharpened pencil and set them on the desk so he wouldn't forget them.

A check of his wristwatch, Lois's Christmas gift to him, let him know that it was time to hail a cab and hotfoot it over to the Regent, so he pocketed the pad and pencil.

CJK and LJK married 12-24-42; the inscription was as much engraved in his memory as on the watch. And as often as he ran his thumb over the delicate etchings when he took it off at night and before he put it back on in the morning, he was a little surprised that the engraving hadn't actually begun to wear.

He grabbed his hat and coat before letting Mr. White know that he was headed over to the briefing and had to hurry as he saw one of the elevator doors open. "Going down?"

"I'm sorry, sir; going up." The operator apologized and he pulled the doors closed. Clark couldn't help but sigh, but at least it gave him time to put his coat on.

"They always seem to be going in the opposite direction, don't they?" A familiar female voice asked and when he looked to his left, Chloe Sullivan was standing next to him. "Welcome back, Mr. Kent. Mr. White says you're going to be here for awhile."

"Good morning, Miss Sullivan." When Clark put his hand out, she took it and shook. "It's nice to be back."

He could tell that she'd changed; her demeanor toward him open and friendly. He didn't feel the instinctive need to be on his guard with what he said or did as he had the last time, lest she misinterpret anything because he sensed that she wouldn't.

"I understand you were married since you were last here." She mentioned casually with an easy smile as she pressed the call button. "The girl who came here to see you?"

"Lois." Clark smiled back. "It was three months on March 24th."

"Mr. White was tickled pink when he got your wedding invitation." Miss Sullivan remarked with a nod and then laughed. "He kept saying, 'I just don't believe it.' "

"He made an impression on Lois when she met him and she really wanted him there." Clark smiled back. "The truth is, if he hadn't sent me to cover the Glenn Miller show and urged me to invite Lois as my guest; I'm not sure where we'd be now."

"After seeing the two of you together, I think you'd be just where you are." There was a soft 'ding' and the doors to the other elevator car opened."I know Jimmy's at the Regent waiting and I don't want to be responsible for keeping you. It was nice to see you, Mr. Kent."

"It was nice to see you too, Miss Sullivan." Clark stepped on and when he turned back around, she was gone.

What a difference a few months could make.

It hadn't escaped his notice either, that she was smiling when she referred to the young photographer as 'Jimmy'. The last time Clark had seen them, the night of the Glenn Miller show, she wouldn't even give him the time of day.

And he could almost hear Lois's comment; 'Cupid's Arrows hit the unlikeliest of people, G-man. Look at us.'

He got down to the lobby and walked outside toward the taxi stand in front of the building, ready to hail a driver when he saw an Army staff car pull up to the curb. A young officer, who looked to Clark to be about his age, got out and waited. "Clark Kent?"

"Yes."

"You're a reporter here at The Daily Planet?" He asked as Clark approached him. "And you're married to General Sam Lane's daughter?"

"What's this all about?" He asked, his guard quickly going up. One of the first things he learned at the Academy was that agents needed to protect their identities at all times, never knowing when they might be walking into a trap.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kent." He held open a back door. "My orders are to deliver you to General Lane without delay. As to why, I can't tell you because I don't know. And even if I did, I still couldn't tell you because my orders only specify driving you to the Regent Hotel."

"If you'll wait there-" Clark surreptitiously checked his shoulder bars; First Lieutenant. "Lieutenant, I need to go back inside."

"General Lane doesn't like to be kept waiting." A slight frown marred his otherwise implacable features.

"I know the General, and he'll understand." Clark turned to walk back into the building and made a bee line for one of the telephone booths just inside. He tucked himself in to the small space and closed the door before picking up the receiver and dropping a nickel into the coin slot. He dialed the operator and asked her to connect him to the Regent Hotel.

When she'd done that, he looked at his watch and waited while the call connected; 9:20 a.m.

"Good morning, this is the Regent Hotel. How may I help you?"

"Good morning. My name is Clark Kent and I'm a reporter at The Daily Planet. I understand that General Sam Lane is there for a ten o'clock briefing."

"Yes, Mr. Kent; he is." The voice was pleasant and professional.

"Would it be possible to get him to the telephone? It's urgent that I speak with him."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kent. But as I'm sure you realize, there is a war on and the General is a busy man."

"Believe me, I do. If you could just tell him that it's Clark, I'm certain he'll be able to spare a few minutes."

There wasn't any sound for a moment and he started to wonder if the desk clerk had hung up on him. "Please hold for the General."

"Thank you." And the line buzzed in his ear. A few seconds later, it clicked and his father-in-law was on the other end.

"Are they all right?" The General asked without preamble, concern for his daughter and grandchild evident in his voice.

"They're both fine, sir." Clark assured him and took a breath. "The reason I called was to ask if you sent a staff car to the Planet to pick me up."

He heard a soft expletive on the other end and then Lois's father cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, son; I should have called and told you I was going to do that. Lo told me the other day that you were starting at the paper this morning and I wanted to have the chance to talk to you before this damn briefing."

"That's all I needed to know."

"You're in good hands with Chet. He was Bradley's driver in North Africa before he was shipped stateside and he'll get you here in no time."

"Thank you, sir."

"I'm sorry for all the cloak and dagger." He cleared his throat a second time and then instructed. "Come ahead to the ballroom and we'll talk more."

"No need to apologize." He replied and wondered why it was being employed. "I'm used to it."

"I have no doubt." The older man chuckled. "I'll expect you at 0935 hours. And if I know my driver, he'll have you here with two minutes to spare."

"I'm leaving now." Clark again looked at his watch; it was going to be close.

"Affirmative. Lane out." And the line went dead.

He hung up the receiver and opened the door to the phone booth, moving quickly through the lobby. He was in the clear, so he pushed his way out through the revolving door and walked briskly to the staff car. The Lieutenant was still there waiting by the back passenger door. "Did you get everything squared away, Mr. Kent?"

He knew.

Clark nodded. "Like a preflight check."

"Very good." He opened the door and waited for Clark to get in and sit down before firmly closing it. He walked around to the driver's side of the car and got in. "I'll have you there with time to spare."

"The General assured me that you would." He replied and in spite of the subterfuge, an idea for a story came to him. "He also said that you were General Omar Bradley's driver before you were sent stateside."

"I was." He glanced briefly in the rear view mirror. "It was an honor."

"Would you be willing to talk to me about it?" Clark extended the offer. "I think a lot of people would be interested to read about an officer who's worked so closely with someone of his stature."

"You'll need to clear it with General Lane, security and all. And if he gives you the green light, I'd be happy to."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Anything to help morale, Mr. Kent." He glanced in the rear view mirror again. "And just so you know, the General is aces and I'll drive for him as long as he wants me to."

"You don't need to sell me on that, Lieutenant; I know."

"I just didn't want you to think that I take being General Lane's driver as a step down from my last posting." He put his attention back to the road.

"I never thought any such thing."

"I appreciate that." His head bobbed as he nodded. They rode in silence the rest of the way until the car pulled up in front of the Regent Hotel. "My orders are to wait here until you're through. I'll be driving General Lane back to Fort Ryan and he's requested that I take you back to the newspaper office first."

"I appreciate that, but it really isn't necessary." Clark opened his door. "I can get a cab back to the Planet."

"My orders are clear, Mr. Kent."

"I understand." Loud and clear.

"I figured you would." And he did what Dad always did when he was hiding a laugh, he started to cough and Clark closed the door, trying not to laugh himself. Something told him that Lois's father and his driver probably got along well; they seemed to have the same dry sense of humor.

He walked into the lobby of the hotel and memories assailed him from all sides as he took his hat off and looked around. His eyes knew just where to go to find the alcove where he'd kissed Lois for the first time and he felt his face warm at the memory.

It was a gentle joining of warm lips and he had to remind himself that it wasn't supposed to mean anything. He had to remember not to tighten his arms around her waist and hold her the way he shouldn't have wanted to.

Yet he did, badly.

But when she unexpectedly sighed into his kiss, he stopped thinking altogether and was forced to face all of the unspoken and unacknowledged feelings that had developed for her in such a short period of time.

And they scared the hell out of him.

Clark gripped his hat in his hand and gave himself a mental shake as he headed toward the Regent's ballroom. When he approached the open doors, he saw the stage at the other end of the room and could almost hear the Glenn Miller Orchestra playing 'Moonlight Serenade'; the song they were playing as he'd walked Lois to the dance floor after kissing her in the alcove that night.

'I believe that I promised you a dance.' He said to her and she looked unsure as what to do. 'I won't step on your toes, I promise.' He tried to lighten the sudden tension as Lois took the arm he offered and he pressed her hand gently against his side.

'You do and you'll hear about it.' She warned.

'I'm sure I will.' He nodded as they walked to the dance floor to join the other couples. When they got there, he pulled her toward him and leaned in close to her ear. 'You let me know if I'm holding you too close.'

He slipped his arm around her waist and her hand found his shoulder as his free hand took hers and they began to dance. It was a respectable distance, but he could feel the tension as he held her. And that's why he was so surprised, given everything that had already happened when she made an unexpected suggestion. 'It wouldn't be out of the question if you wanted to hold me a little closer.'

When he finally ventured in, Clark glanced up at the high beamed ceiling, with its Plaster of Paris medallions and cut glass light fixtures suspended underneath. He remembered how the refracted light from a mirrored ball that rotated slowly above the floor had bathed the dim, smoky room in hazy warmth that night.

He'd never been a man given to romance, at least not before he'd met Lois. But even he had to admit to himself that under the unusual circumstances, that night ended up being one of the most romantic of his life.

His shoes thumped against the polished hardwood when he stepped onto the dance floor and stopped to take a good look around. Press tables had been set up around the periphery and the floor itself had a movie projector and screen set up, several charts on easels which were currently covered and a table with stacks of papers; no doubt information that the reporters would be taking with them when they left.

"You all right, son?" Clark heard his father-in-law's voice and turned to see him standing on the stage, in his Class A uniform; the same uniform he'd worn when he walked Lois down the aisle. "I'll wager it looks a lot different from the last time you were here."

He nodded and felt his face warm. "That night changed our lives."

The General chuckled as he moved down a set of side stairs and walked toward his son-in-law. "And they're going to change again in about six months."

"It seems so far away."

"Clark, these next few months are going to go by faster than you expect. And when it comes time for Lo to have that baby, you'll wonder where the time went." He indicated one of the tables and then sat down. "Each time Ellen and I went through it, it seemed that no sooner had she found out we were expecting then suddenly, she had a brand new baby in her arms."

Clark sat down and crossed an ankle over one knee, mirroring his father-in-law and hung his hat on the other knee. "Lois says she isn't showing yet, but I can see it."

"That's because you're looking at her as the expectant father that you are." He grinned. "She may not think you're going to notice those things, but it looks to me as though you already are."

"From the night we met, I thought she was pretty." Clark smiled back with a nod. "But in her condition, she's beautiful."

"She might not believe you as time goes on, but you shouldn't hesitate to tell her that." He sat back and offered some husbandly advice. "You know that our Lo isn't a vain girl, but she's always taken pride in her appearance. And I imagine she's probably feeling a little blue right now because things aren't fitting her as well as they once did. And the farther along she gets, she's going to get a little emotional."

"She and Mom have been talking about it." He nodded again. "She says that as much as she likes Dr. Francis and how no-nonsense he is, he's not a woman. And because he's never been through it himself, it's nice to hear about it from someone who already has. She also says that he reminds her of you."

Clark's comment seemed to surprise him because his eyebrows lifted for a moment.

"Well, hell." He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "That's high praise coming from her." He then ran a hand along the back of his neck; a gesture Clark had learned was one of nervousness. "So, how are you doing?"

"Sir?"

"Lois filled me in with what's been happening and why you were sent back to the Planet." He unfolded his leg, sat forward and put his forearms on his knees, lowering his voice. "How much danger is my little girl in?"

"I need to find the fellow that Lana's trying to hire." He glanced nervously at Lois's father. "The one that Lex hired the first time."

"So what's your battle plan?"

"I'm going to use the paper and the contacts I made at the Metropolis Police Department to see if I can find out where he is." He felt his chest tighten with worry. "And if I can get to him before he does anything, I'm hoping that he'll help me put Lana Luthor away for good this time. She's threatened my family, Sam and I'm sure as hell not going to let her get away with it."

The General nodded. "I'll do anything I can to help in that effort, you know that. We're family now, son and we have to stick together."

His comment made Clark smile and the pressure in his chest lessened. "Mom said the same thing this morning."

"Your mother is a smart woman."

"That she is, sir." He nodded his agreement and found himself looking at his watch as the sound of voices from the lobby started to crescendo as the reporters gathered. 9:50. "Well, I'd better let you get ready. Is there any particular reason for this briefing?"

"Nothing urgent." General Lane shook his head and stood up; Clark following suit. "The Army and the Navy decided to do this twice a month and I'm just one of the designated targets for today to take questions about what's been happening overseas."

He walked to the easels and began to pull off the covers. There were maps of the Solomon Islands, North Africa and the Atlantic shipping lanes.

"You see, Fort Ryan and the Olathe Naval Air Station were getting calls from WMET Radio and from Perry White at the Planet, among others, complaining that we were being less than forthcoming about combat operations. So the Commander from the Air Station and I will be briefing all of you to the best of our ability about current Army and Navy campaigns."

"The one thing I've learned since I started at the Planet was that the press doesn't like the phrase 'Classified Information'." Clark remarked with a shrug. "And I think it's why Mr. White gives me assignments like this, because it's a phrase he knows I understand."

"I don't like having to tell a reporter that information is classified." The General frowned and shoved the covers under the table. "Families around here want to know what's happening because they've got husbands, sons or even brothers serving somewhere and they just want to know what they're in for.

"But if we're not careful, information that's vital to the safety of our soldiers and sailors can end up in the wrong hands and our goose is cooked." He sighed and ran a hand through his short cropped hair. "And if I have to put up with a reporter getting his nose out of joint to save the lives of our boys overseas, I'll do it."

"General Lane?" Clark looked toward the stage and saw a navy officer in his dress blues walking toward them, cap tucked under his arm. "I'm Commander Mark Ellison and I apologize for being late. I was needed at the station."

"No apologies necessary, Commander." The General stuck out his hand and the officers shook before he indicated Clark. "This is Clark Kent, a reporter at The Daily Planet who also happens to be my son-in-law."

"Mr. Kent."

"Commander Ellison." Clark took the hand that was proffered and shook before he looked back to the General. "I'll let you finish getting set up."

"Tell Lo that dinner is still a go for tomorrow." He seemed a little uncomfortable talking about personal business. "And if that changes, I'll be sure to call."

"I'll tell her." He assured the other man before giving a nod to the navy officer. "Commander."

"Mr. Kent." He gave a return nod before Clark turned and headed out of the ballroom to join the other reporters and look for Jimmy Olsen. He'd been so preoccupied with the past when he'd come in, that he hadn't thought to look for the Planet's photographer.

But Jimmy Olsen found him.

"Mr. Kent." He grinned, his camera hanging around his neck; his bowtie askew.

Just at a glance the young, slightly rumpled cub photographer didn't look like someone who had recently won an award for one of the photographs he took that accompanied Clark's story about the opening of the B-17 plant the previous year.

Mr. White had told Clark at the wedding reception that he'd been so impressed with the attention to detail, that after he'd submitted a particularly fine photograph to the Tri-Counties Newspaper Association for consideration, he'd given him a one page photo spread in the Regional Section of the Sunday Planet to showcase more of the pictures he'd taken.

He'd also relented and given Chloe Sullivan the task of writing up a brief story about the photographs and composing captions for them. She initially balked at having to write what she'd described as 'fluff', but was told she had to start somewhere if she was serious about being a reporter.

And from there, he'd chuckled; nature finally took its course with Olsen and Sullivan.

"Mr. White told us you were coming back." His grin was infectious and Clark smiled back.

"It's only temporary."

"So what was the pow-wow with the big Chief all about?" He glanced toward the ballroom, where the reporters were starting to filter in.

"Family business." He clapped his hand on the young man's shoulder and guided him toward the open doors. "The General is my father-in-law."

Jimmy's eyes went wide and he stopped. "Really? Do you have to salute him?"

Clark laughed and got him moving. "Come on, we're going to be the last one's in there."

"It's swell to have you back, Mr. Kent."

"It's swell to be back, Jimmy." He answered as they walked through the doors and he really meant it.

It was.