Part II

For a second, on the rebound, the man swayed but still remained upright. Then his legs buckled underneath him and he slumped heavily to the ground.

Before Eddie had realized there was anyone behind him, Clark had raised his hands and nudged him gently in the back. The force with which Eddie had hit the door left a shallow but discernible man-shaped indentation.

Clark reached out and touched the surface now with his fingertips. Lead-lined again? He put his temple to the door and listened. "Lois? Are you in there?"

He heard her voice, faint but steady, "Yeah, it's me."

Relief washed over him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she whispered back, "What about you?"

She sounded genuinely worried. Clark was charmed. "I asked first."

"Hold on a second, I'll open the door."

On the other side, it sounded like she was shifting heavy furniture. He couldn't prevent the grin tugging at his lips. "You just can't keep out of trouble, can you?"

"You know me."

Clark's eyes fell to the man at his feet and caught on the handle of the semi-automatic that was jutting out of a shoulder holster. Lightness left his tone. "I wish you would be more careful."

He could almost see her eyes roll as she chided, "You know, sometimes you sound just like Superman."

Clark smiled. Then the smile froze on his face. Puzzled, he said, "What do you mean?"

"I'm telling you, Clark," came a matter-of-fact, muffled, reply. "Something about the way you turn a phrase. The inherent tut-tutting."

I'm telling you, Clark? Clark glanced down, pulled at the S shield. Uh-oh. He pushed his voice up an octave. "Tut-tutting, Lois?" He thought quickly. His Clark-clothes were in a pile behind a dumpster somewhere near that side alley. He eyed the open door at the end of the hallway. Was there time to go, change, get back again? The door handle in front of him was turning. He looked around wildly.

"Oh, yeah." Lois was saying. "That unmistakable air of superiority. And that tone of total disa-" The door opened and the scene before her cut her off mid-flow, "Pproval," she finished weakly. The grin disappeared from her face as her eyes widened. "Woah."

On the floor, at their feet, a man was sprawled. He was at least twice Clark's size, a thick-necked, giant hulk of a man, with forearms the size of hams. He had a gun. And he was out stone-cold. She lifted her eyes to Clark.

"I, uh, surprised him."

"With what?" Lois breathed. "A nine iron?" She was smiling, but she was only half-joking.

Clark made an unconvincing chop-socky hand gesture. "It's all in the technique."

The man on the floor was dressed only in a wifebeater and boxer shorts, while Clark was wearing a different outfit since the last time Lois had seen him. A hawaiian shirt hung off him, all buttoned up, and his pants seemed very baggy. His glasses looked a little different too, they were wire-framed and tinted. She squinted. "Why are you wearing his clothes?"

"Blending in," Clark whispered. "And pretty soon, they're going to miss him." He picked up Lois's hand and made to move, "Let's get out of here."

Lois stood her ground and resisted. "Are you kidding?" She grabbed Clark's hand with both of hers, "Get in here! Quick!" She pulled him back into the dark of the office and shut the door behind them.

"What are you doing?" Clark hissed. "We've got to go!"

Lois was not listening. She was over by a desk, grabbing up sheets of curled paper. "X marks the spot, Clark. Sea charts. Calculations. Directions for the drop! All the evidence we need."

Clark warned, "Lois, I think it's time we got out of here."

She had taken her cell phone out again and was busy sifting through the charts, "And I think it's time you let me concentrate and chilled out."

"Really?" Clark replied, peevishly. "'Cause I think it's time we got out of here."

Taken aback by his tone, she met his gaze. Carefully, she said, "And I think it's time you learned to take advantage of an opportunity when it's staring you in the face."

He stared back at her, "And I think it's time you learned the difference between an opportunity and us making it out of here with our lives!"

Technically, they were still whispering but their voices were becoming noticeably louder, and strained, "And I think it's time you started behaving less like a screechy ten year old girl and more like an actual investigative reporter!"

Clark opened his mouth to respond but suddenly everywhere was bathed in a harsh white light and the door behind him swung open. A new voice, confident and strident, boomed into the room: "And I think it's time you started listening to your partner, Miss Lane."

Clark closed his eyes and cringed. Behind his head there was the unmistakable dull clicking of someone removing a set of safeties. Lois raised her arms and he did too. Turning slowly he found himself looking into the eyes of two men. The first man was grinning delightedly. He had gray hair but he was youngish looking, and dressed sharply, in a well-cut suit. His hands were in his pockets. The second man had a ponytail and was dressed entirely in black. He held a Beretta pistol in each hand, one barrel was aimed at Lois's forehead, the other straight at Clark's.

---

"They seek him here, they seek him there." The gray haired man had taken his hands out of his pockets. Now they were resting, jauntily, on his hips. He regarded his captives appreciatively, like they were the latest additions to a prized art collection. "Lois Lane and Clark Kent. I've heard all about you."

His voice echoed around the large open space of the warehouse forecourt. It was empty now, no sign of any drugs. A row of steel supports inset from the outer walls lined the length of the room. They ran floor to ceiling like fireman's poles, four either side of the room, and spaced evenly about twenty feet apart. Lois and Clark were attached to the first on the left hand side of the warehouse, the one nearest the set of doors that led onto the outer corridor and back outside. Two chairs had been placed back to back, either side of the support. At gunpoint they had been frisked and Lois had been obliged to remove her jacket. Then she and Clark had been invited to sit in the chairs. They had been asked to hold their arms out behind them so that a set of handcuffs could be snapped across their wrists tethering them both separately to the support.

"You're one up on us, then," Lois said. "Do we call you by your full title? Or would you like us to abbreviate? Which do you prefer; 'Scarlet'? Or 'Pimp'?"

The gray-haired man smiled shyly and looked at his shoes. "Ah. My little joke." Flip flopping each hand he said, "French cheese, the Scarlet Pimpernel rescues the French..."

Lois gave him a blank look, "We got it."

He pressed a manicured hand to his chest, "Now that we've met, I think Mr Farlowe will do just fine."

Farlowe. Clark's forehead creased. "Braxton Farlowe. I remember you. The Credit International scandal. You were released last November. I covered the parole hearings."

"I see my reputation precedes me. As yours precedes you."

"Your reputation?" Lois looked skeptical. "A ten year stretch in Metropolis State Prison for embezzling millions, and now what? Peddling drugs? That's quite the career trajectory. What's next? Robbing old ladies? Stealing hubcaps?"

The smile on Farlowe's face turned colder. With a crooked finger he lifted up Lois's jacket, holding it upside down. Her dictaphone and cell fell to the floor where they bounced. With the polished toe of his shoe, Farlowe lined them up. "You've got spunk, Miss Lane. I'll give you that. A mutual friend of ours told me all about you. He mentioned that you don't scare too easy." Without any fuss he put his right hand inside his suit and brought out a pearl-handled revolver. Then he aimed a barrage of shots at the equipment, obliterating them. Lois turned away from the bullets and the noise. Afterwards, Farlowe nonchalantly waved the nose of the revolver in the air, "In a way, I expected this. His expression warmed up again. "I'm glad you didn't disappoint me."

"Mutual friend?"

Farlowe regarded Clark. "A former cellmate of mine. How can I put this?" He sighed while he reholstered the gun. "I suppose you could say he's my patron." The idea seemed to amuse him.

"Luthor." Clark said.

Unlike Clark, Lois didn't bother to disguise her contempt. "The man's insane."

Farlowe's eyes flashed. "The man's an inspiration. Since Superman's been in town times are hard for everyone. We all have to pull together, help each other out."

"Heart-warming stuff, I'm sure," Lois sniffed. "But I can't help noticing that here we all are. And there's nothing to corroborate what you say, no chain of evidence implicating the organ grinder." She smiled sweetly; "Only the monkey."

Farlowe looked at her. "You should be glad, Miss Lane, that Mr Luthor's a fan, too. It's why you're not already dead."

The man with the ponytail walked in carrying with him the smell of stale cigarette smoke. "Everything's ready."

"What about at the other end?"

Expressionless, Ponytail nodded at Farlowe.

"Is he awake?"

Ponytail shook his head.

With his hands on his hips again, Farlowe turned back to Lois and Clark. "I'll admit. I was not expecting your snooping to turn so violent." He eyed Clark. "Someone packs quite a punch."

"It's like you said," Clark replied. "She's got spunk."

Farlowe sucked in an admiring breath through closed teeth. "She's got something." He walked right up to them to reach down and stroke Lois's face with the back of his fingers. She didn't flinch but if she could have moved, Lois would have kneed him in the groin. If he could have moved, Clark would have snapped his hand in two. Farlowe said, "You should've stayed away."

"It's the craziest thing. Someone tells me not to look, all I want to do is sneak a peek."

Farlowe bent down on his haunches so that he was face to face with her. "You know what they say about curiosity, don't you, Miss Lane?"

"'Curiosity'?" Lois looked lost. "The Jets song?"

Off to the side, Ponytail failed to appreciate the humor. Without inflection, he said, "It killed the cat."

Lois squinted. "I thought that was quantum theory."

Farlowe leaned closer, his eyes all over her face, intrigued. "You've got a smart mouth for someone in such a vulnerable position. I'd watch it if I were you. It might get you into trouble one of these days." He laughed loudly into the void.

Ponytail's watch bleeped. "Tide's in."

"Well." Farlowe stood up straight and proud, wiping his hands. "This has been fun. And now it's time to part ways."

Lois's voice was soft with wonderment. "You really think you're going to get away with this."

As if waiting for this turn of conversation all along, Farlowe beamed at her. "I wonder what you can possibly mean?"

She opened her mouth. In delight Farlowe blurted, "Superman?" He flipped open his palms. "What do you think this is, Amateur Hour?"

"You tell me." Lois quirked her head at Ponytail, "Chuckles, over here, is the one who left the back door open."

With extravagantly wide steps, Farlowe strode the ten feet or so to the nearest wall. His knuckles rapped against the side of the warehouse. It made a damp, muffled sound. "Heat resistant, lead-lined, sound proof walls, Miss Lane. A LexCorp patent." He clasped his hands together in front of himself. "Help! Superman! Help!"

Lois jutted her jaw. Powerless, Clark's nostrils flared.

"That how it usually goes?" Farlowe smiled. "Knock yourself out, kids." He gestured at Gooch that it was time to leave. Lois and Clark craned their heads left to right, mirroring each other, to track his exit. Full of bonhomie, Farlowe turned back at the double doors to tip a salute at them. "As the French say; adieu!" Then, as if only just remembering, he leaned in back over the threshold. "Oh and uh. By the way." He treated Lois to a self-indulgent once over. "Nice panties."

In his chair, Clark seethed. Farlowe winked. He spun on his heels and left.

"The Scarlet Pimpernel's not French, asshole!" Lois's voice rang uselessly around the cavernous space of the deserted building. One after the other, the florescent strips of light above them were extinguished. They heard footsteps walking away, and themselves being locked in.

Then, silence. Everything was black. They were alone.

---

Every so often Clark would tilt slightly to his left and twist his neck so he could check the time on Lois's watch. This way he knew that it was getting on for two in the morning and that they had been trapped here for a couple of hours.

He tried not to move too much because he didn't want to disturb Lois who had skewed herself to her right and was leaning against him as much as the pole between them would allow. He could feel her warmth and the pressure of her head against his shoulder and whilst he would not say he was enjoying himself exactly, the sensation was delightful.

She wasn't asleep. He could tell by her heart rate and breathing rhythm, but they hadn't spoken since the lights had gone out. Clark was hoping she would start to doze off soon because he had already experimented with his super breath and had to nix taking the opposing wall out on account of the fact that there was no way he could avoid making weird blowy noises and arousing suspicion.

Apart from their breathing, the only sound around them was the low mechanical hum of the air conditioning system above.

"Clark?" Lois's voice punctured the silence. It was soft, and a little scratchy.

"Mm?"

"Are you still awake?"

He smiled. "Yes."

She touched her lips together. "You're very quiet."

"So are you."

There was a long pause.

"Are you angry with me?"

Clark frowned. "Why would I be angry with you?"

He heard her expel a long breath. "For ignoring you when you said we should listen to Perry. For ignoring you again when you told me to meet you back at the motel. For lying to your face when I told you I would. And for not listening to you when we had the chance to get out of here and I made you stay."

Clark's eyelids blinked, lazily. "Well, when you put it like that..."

She could detect the smile in his voice and it made her glad. "Clark?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not sure I can last three days."

Clark's eyes narrowed as he tried to follow her. "What's so special about three days?"

"I saw this thing on tv. Three days is statistically the maximum amount of time the human body can function without water before dehydration sets in."

Clark considered this piece of information, noting, but not voicing, his surprise that it was dehydration and not the far more likely hazard of rats that was top of her priority list. "We're not going to be stuck here three days, Lois."

"How do you know?"

"For one thing, when Perry calls the motel up tomorrow and we're not there, this is the very first place he's going to look."

"I guess," Lois said, sounding measured.

"Right before he fires us."

She chuckled softly. With longing, she gazed ahead, "I could kill for a cigarette, right now."

Clark nearly forgot he was supposed to be wearing restraints and just stopped himself from putting his hands to his hips and ripping the cuffs apart in the process. "I thought you were giving up?"

"I am. I have," Lois bristled. "I keep a small supply for emergencies and extraordinary circumstances. And this," she intoned with precision, "qualifies as one of those."

"A recent AMA study found that regular smokers are at least twice as likely to develop cancer and ischemic heart disease than the general population."

Lois listened to him patiently. "See, that's exactly what I'm talking about."

"What?"

"Right there, just clicking into Superman mode." She leaned in and spoke over her shoulder to him with a mischievous look on her face, "Nag, nag, nag."

Clark allowed himself a smile. "Superman nags?" Interestedly, he said, "How about that."

Lois looked away at the ceiling. "He calls it 'civic concern for my personal health choices'." He could hear the lilt in her voice: "But it's nagging."

To himself, Clark grinned, "I'll try to remember that."

"Anyway," Lois said. "I could quit any time I want."

Clark nodded thoughtfully, "I get it. It's another one of those things where you feel compelled to do the opposite of whatever it is you're told to do. Especially if the thing you're told to do might actually be beneficial to you."

Lois blinked a couple of times. "We've been partners nearly a year; I had no idea you had such a nice line in irony." She turned her head to him again, "I'm seeing a whole other side to you, tonight, Smallville."

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

"Still waters run deep, huh? That it?"

"Something like that."

An enjoyable tension was in the air and it lingered as they lapsed into silence. After maybe a minute, Lois called out Clark's name again.

"Yes?"

She licked her lips. "I'm sorry."

Clark raised a concerned eyebrow, "Sorry for what?"

Lois was shaking her head at the ceiling, "For everything. For getting us into this mess." She pressed her lips against her teeth; "And for calling you a screechy ten year old."

For a moment, Clark was quiet. "It was a screechy ten year old girl, actually," he corrected.

He felt Lois deflate, "I'm trying to apologize, here."

She sounded so sincere. "Okay, now I'm worried," Clark said. "You- apologizing. Things must be serious."

Without any edge, wanting to know the truth, Lois asked, "Aren't you scared?"

"Now? At this moment? No."

It was such an uncomplicated, unClark-like admission, but Lois believed him. "What about when that guy was pointing a gun in your face?"

Instead of answering yes or no, Clark said, "You scare me."

Lois's forehead puckered. "Me?"

"We've been partners nearly a year..." He waited, turned his head to her, "and you still have no idea how I take my coffee."

Lois rolled her eyes at his teasing. "I do, too," she protested.

When she failed to elaborate, Clark prompted, "Well?"

"Black, no sugar," she hedged.

"That's how you take your coffee."

"Yes," she said quickly, "and I'm trying to be a positive influence!"

Now he was shaking his head at her.

"Hey, I know stuff! I know what your favorite pizza topping is?" She squinted. "An Italian Supreme. With extra something." She gave an adorable little gasp of triumph, "Peppers!"

"Mushrooms." Clark marvelled, "You don't listen to a word I say."

She scowled. They were quiet again until Clark spoke. Softly, he said, "You should probably be more careful, though."

He heard her sigh. "I know." She shifted a little in her seat. "So how far away do you think they are by now?"

Clark blew out a breath, "Depends on their boat." He bobbed his head side to side. "Say their top speed's eighteen, twenty knots? He did some quick math. They could be anywhere within a four thousand nautical mile radius."

Lois scrunched up one side of her face, "That's a pretty big chunk of sea."

Clark was nodding.

"At least we know which way they're going."

Clark carried on nodding. Then he stopped. "Do we?"

"Well." Lois said. "There was a chart back there. With a destination marked and a set of co-ordinates."

"Co-ordinates?"

"For the drop off," her shoulders twitched, "or an exchange, I guess."

Clark checked, "In the middle of the ocean?"

Lois nodded, "Right." Without pausing she reeled off, "Petroco Eleutherius. Forty, forty-nine, fifty-eight, point six four three nine, North. Sixty-seven, seventeen, zero-seven, point zero nine two zero, West."

Clark's eyelids flickered. "What?"

"That was what was marked down on the chart."

Clark's gaze narrowed in concentration, "I know where that is. The Petroco Eleutherius. It's an abandoned oil rig, about two hundred miles out." Clark was amazed. "You memorized the co-ordinates?"

She shrugged, "I told you, I'm good with names and numbers."

Without affect, Clark said, "You're brilliant."

In the darkness, Lois blushed. "Just don't ask me to spell it."

In his head Clark was already calculating his arrival time. Even if he was trapped here the rest of the night as Clark, as long as Perry had found them by morning he would have the chance to beat Farlowe to the rig, wait for them to show up, and interrupt the drop as it happened.

"Now all we need is Superman."

"Right," Clark agreed, wincing silently.

"I wonder where he is."

"Could be anywhere, I guess."

"I know," Lois mused, taken with the thought. "Anywhere at all. It's kind of incredible, isn't it?"

Clark's lips drew into a line. He drawled, "It sure is."

Lois was looking up, "Out there. Flying around. Keeping watch over everyone."

There was a pause. "Some people more than others."

Lois cocked her head to her shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"Well. You know," Clark coughed. "It's obvious he really cares about you."

There was a dismissive snort, but Lois didn't resist the shy smile creeping onto her face. "Is it?"

A little less certain, Clark frowned. "Isn't it?"

"I don't know," she breathed. "I don't know how he feels." He felt her shoulders lift. "It's not a conversation we've had."

"Is it a conversation you need to have?"

"You're saying actions speak louder?"

"You said when you need him, he always finds you."

"What does that prove except I can shout the loudest?" she snapped. She screwed her eyes and apologized to him. She tried to explain it. "I mean, God, Clark. Sometimes, he looks at me, and it feels like we're the only two people on Earth." Her eyes were shining. Then a shadow passed over her face and her eyes dulled again. "And the next second he's gone."

Clark's heart ached. "Well, there are a lot of demands on his time, Lois."

"I know," she smiled, "Believe me, I know." She chewed at her bottom lip thoughtfully. "It's more than that. He keeps me at arm's length, I can tell." Almost to herself, she said, "Something's always holding him back."

Clark swallowed. "Maybe he's scared."

"Superman? Of what?"

"Of you. Of getting too close. Of not being able to be there for you like," Clark's bottom jaw worked before the words came, "like a normal guy."

"Who wants normal?" Lois demanded. From behind her back her handcuffed hands lifted upwards in quick mitigation, "No offense, Clark."

A rueful, tortured smile formed itself on Clark's face. "None taken."

"He's a man apart, I get it," Lois went on. "I can't believe he thinks that I don't get it." Her voice softened with frustration, "It doesn't stop me wanting to..." Before she articulated the thought, she seemed to remember herself. Embarrassed, she chided, "Geez, listen to me. Going on."

Hanging on her every word, Clark closed his eyes. "I don't mind."

"You're a good guy. A good listener."

Gently, Clark said, "I think this is where I make some crack about being a captive audience."

The atmosphere between them, which had become heavy, lightened and Lois appreciated Clark's hand in it. She told him, in mock pique, "I retract my last statement."

They chuckled. She blew out a quick breath. "Boy, I could use that cigarette."

"It's late. Why don't you try and get some sleep?"

"No, I'm okay." She wriggled her shoulders to loosen them up, looked down at her chest. "I can't get comfortable anyway."

She continued to stare at the gap between her top button and her cleavage.

"Clark?"

"Yes?"

"I may have an idea."

Clark's head turned towards her. "About what?"

"About getting out of here."

"Don't tell me you swallowed the key," he teased.

She laughed nervously. "Not quite." Then Lois said, "You're going to have to take off my bra."

With an amused smile still on his face, Clark's brow lowered. "What?"

More clearly, she repeated, "You're going to have to take off my bra."

There was a beat. "What?"

Her restraints chinked against the pole as she tested them, "I think the cuffs are loose enough. If I slouch right down and press my back hard enough against your hands, you should be able to hitch up my shirt and release the fastener." She stretched her head to him. "It's just a couple of hooks."

Clark's mouth moved wordlessly.

"That ought to be enough to dislodge my pocketknife," Lois continued, going over each step out loud; "if I can shake it into my lap, I can pick it up with my mouth and drop it over my shoulder and into your hands." She was already visualizing freedom. Behind her there was silence while Clark was visualizing something else. "Clark?"

"I'm sorry," he said, having fallen behind. "Dislodge your pocketknife?"

"Right."

He sounded uncertain, "You have a pocketknife. Stashed in your," Lois listened to him struggling on the word, "...bra?"

"Yes."

"Right now?"

"Yes."

"And you're going to shake it loose and drop it into my hands."

Lois was nodding to herself. "I'm pretty flexible," she told him matter-of-factly. "Then you can unpick my lock." She waited. "What do you think?"

Clark was leaning his head back against the steel cold of the pipe that separated them. "I'm thinking so many things right now."

Her eyes rolled, "I mean do you think you can do it? If the pocketknife hits the floor, I'm not sure we'll be able to pick it up again." She warned, "One shot at this is all we might have."

Lois took the following few seconds as an encouraging sign that Clark was performing a mental run through of the relative merits of her plan.

"...You really have a pocketknife hidden. In your bra?"

She sighed. "No," she replied evenly. "I made the whole thing up, just now. I thought this might be a fun way to pass the time."

"Do you always keep one," he asked, a little tightly, "up there?"

Lois scowled, "Nooo."

"So tonight was just dumb luck?"

"Are you nuts?" She squeaked, exasperated. "Look, when you're dealing with these kinds of people, you never know. So I always tuck my pocketknife in my bra, just in case." She quirked her head in a satisfied nod to good practice, "A little tip I picked up from my father." Her nose scrunched. "That came out wrong."

"I wouldn't have thought there was that kind of room," Clark was musing, absently.

Her head slumped to one side. Obviously, her partner was having difficulty steering himself away from the minor practicalities. "Can you do it or not?"

Although he was trying his best to ignore them, all kinds of bewitching fantasies kept Clark's voice a little shaky; "Unhook your bra?"

Lois pulled her bound hands tight against the support, "Well, I can't do it myself, can I?"

"I guess not," he conceded.

"Okay then." Lois scooted back so she was sat up straight, flush against the pole and as near as possible to Clark's reach. "Is that close enough?"

It was plenty close. Clark's hands were cuffed on her side of the pole and when he brought them up, had he wanted to he could've laid both his palms flat against her body. As it was, with as much gentlemanly correctness as possible, he found the hem of her shirt and aligned his fingertips underneath it, resting them against the exposed skin just above the line of her pants.

If Lois was expecting his touch to be a little cold, a little unsure and diffident, she was surprised to find that she was wrong on all counts. Clark's hands felt not only steady, but also agreeably hot where the pads of his fingers pressed gently against her. She settled against him. "Ready?"

Clark's throat bobbed. How in God's good name had he allowed tonight to degenerate to this point? "Ready."

Almost before she'd started, Lois stopped, turned her head sideways to address him. "And I can feel exactly what you're doing, so don't get any ideas."

Clark bit his bottom lip. Hard.

"Okay, here we go." Very slowly she began to slide forward on the seat. At the same time, Clark dragged his fingers upwards, underneath her shirt. Following the contour of her body, his hands were deliberate and conscientious, taking care not to lose contact with her skin. He had spread his hands wide to more effectively keep her top hitched out of the way, and they easily spanned her slim waist. His eyes closed as he tried very hard not to think too much about how soft the skin under his touch was. How hopelessly erotic it was to be touching Lois like this.

Keeping her legs out and her knees bent to maintain balance, Lois continued to inch forward in a kind of limbo motion. She could feel her shirt tightening across her chest and more and more of her back being exposed. More than anything, she could feel Clark Kent's hands on her and, despite all logic, she could not deny she was enjoying it. Her skin was goosepimpling where cool night air contrasted with the warmth of his fingertips and as she got lower and his hands moved higher, and closer to the strap of her bra, a shiver ran up her spine and prickled her scalp.

Clark's breathing had become shallow. An intake of breath caught in his throat when his fingers brushed the delicate band of material where skin became silken underthing. Oh, God. He could feel the clasp of the bra strap.

With his head swimming, and his mouth dry, he pulled himself back. He choked out, "Oh, hey, I think my cuffs are coming loose."

Lois, now more or less horizontal with most of her bottom half out of her seat, her arms stretched behind her, and her stomach taut and completely bare, zoned in again. "What?"

"I think my cuffs are coming loose."

To the sound of snapping metal, Lois pushed with her thighs to scrabble herself upright.

Behind her, Clark was gabbling, "Must have been rusty or something. Here, let me try yours."

She felt a gentle tug on both her wrists, which was accompanied by another loud snap.

"There! See?"

She moved her arms and her hands came up, free, in front of her face. The cuffs were still on her wrists like matching bracelets. "Oh." Clark had scooted round and was on one knee in front of her. "Thanks." She brought both wrists closer, turning them to inspect where the chain connecting each manacle had broken clean off. In the dim light it was difficult to see. "They don't look rusty..."

"Must be a faulty batch," Clark said. His own handcuffs made a dull tinkling noise on the concrete floor as he threw them away over his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

She sensed rather than saw his eyes checking her over and she stopped rubbing at her wrists to self-consciously straighten up her shirt. "Fine." A little stiffly, with his help, she got to her feet. Her eyes lit up, "Superman!" She held Clark at his elbows, "We've got to tell him the co-ordinates!"

"You better get outside and yell." She saw a flash of a smile in the dark, "Really loudly."

She grinned back, "Where are you going?"

Clark thumbed in the direction he was already moving, "I'll head back to the truck and make some calls; make sure the coast guard are ready, and get Jimmy down here."

"I'll meet you on the roof!" Lois stared after him, trying to remember another occasion when she had seen Clark Kent move so fast and not fall over.

---

It was a strange walk through the newsroom on Monday morning. Colleagues kept catching his eye but seemed unsure whether to offer a congratulatory slap on the back or extend a sympathetic hand. Yesterday's front page had ignited public imagination. Lane and Kent had delivered again, and it was becoming a habit. Casting a long shadow over any sense of triumphalism was the fact that to do so, they had defied Perry. And everybody knew it. This time yesterday, rumpled and sleep-deprived, they had handed in their story. Mr White had sent them both home without another word.

Clark arrived at his desk. "Hey."

She looked up. Clear-eyed and without a hair out of place. "Hey."

He hung his coat against the back of his chair, tucked away his briefcase at his feet, quietly took his seat. "How's it looking?"

Her eyes flickered over to the Editor-in-Chief's office, where the blinds had been drawn. "People keep walking past humming the death march." Even as she spoke Jimmy was skimming past chanting something underneath his breath. "Or what they think is the death march." She turned in her chair to call after him, "That's Darth Vader's Imperial theme, Jimmy!"

She faced him again shaking her head. Her expression darkened. "Where have you been, anyway? You were nearly late."

Clark's eyebrows lifted, "I uhh-"

"Oh, here. Your tie."

She got up and came over to his side of the desk, gesturing with one hand for him to stand, which he did. She stood in front of him and fussed at his collar and the knot of his tie until both were straight and to her satisfaction.

He watched her face as she concentrated. "Thanks."

"That's better." Instinctively she ran her hands from his collar down the middle of his chest, smoothing everything away.

Their eyes met and she took her hands back.

"You two! In here." Across the room, Perry was waiting for them outside his door.

Clark swallowed away a breath, Lois straightened her back and squared her shoulders.

---

Brevity, economy, concision. These things were more than just tools of the trade to Perry White, they were the ideals he held dear. They were ideals that marked him out as a fresh-faced rookie, and they were the same ideals he adhered to, a lifetime later, when he invited nervous employees into his office.

It was not in Perry White's nature to sermonize, or to castigate, or to unnecessarily prolong an official reprimand. He was a cajoler, not a ranter.

The other notable thing about Perry White was that he was always prepared to make an exception.

The two reporters in front of him sat, sullen and contrite, as Perry paced the floor behind his desk, working through, in order of importance, the ways in which he felt they had let him down. Words like 'reckless', 'ill-conceived', and 'Goddamned lucky' peppered the diatribe at disquietingly frequent intervals.

When he reached the end of the list, he lowered himself into his chair and folded his hands. "Listen to me." He hunched himself closer. "You two are probably the most talented reporters this paper's had. Maybe ever. The potential." He fixed them with a glare in turn. "You're no good to me if you're dead."

Lois and Clark accepted this with heads bowed.

But Perry was not done quite yet. He aimed to finish on a flourish. "However," he intoned weightily. "All that said." His fingers steepled and he tapped them together while Lois and Clark waited. Perry made to say something but an urgent knock on the door interrupted him.

Jimmy's head poked into view, "Chief-"

Perry blinked. "I'm busy, Jimmy."

"I know. But you've got to check out the tv."

"Jimmy!"

Before Perry could say anything else, the young man had crossed the room and reached up to the flatscreen in the corner. A news report blinked into life. The four of them listened as the pictures showed Superman shaking hands with the assistant DA on the steps of police headquarters,

"...just a half hour ago. It is reported that Superman picked up the second crew after handing over the first crew to the Attorney General's task force in the early hours of Sunday morning. Mr Farlowe, and those accused of being his accomplices, were caught following an investigation carried out by the city's own Daily Planet. The traffickers have been charged in a twenty-three count indictment including conspiracy, possession, and the exportation of large quantities of cocaine. The haul is estimated to have a street value of over two hundred million dollars.

The assistant DA was reluctant to comment on the suggestion of a link between Mr Farlowe and his former cellmate, the disgraced business magnate, Lex Luthor-"

Perry zapped the screen off and laid the remote back down. Lois and Clark gazed back at him with expectant faces. He sighed. "What I was going to say was, despite the fact that you disobeyed an extremely specific instruction, and despite the fact that you deliberately put yourselves in the way of danger," Perry pressed his lips into a line. "I'm incredibly proud."

He watched a mixture of relief and humility break across their expressions. Almost immediately he switched back into his usual groove. "You can leave now." He sniffed, picking up some papers, "I don't pay you to sit around looking pleased with yourselves."

Silently they rose to their feet. Clark got as far as putting his hand on the door handle before Perry added, "And if you ever do something like this again, you'll be out of my building so fast, Superman couldn't keep up with you."

Perry watched them leave. He didn't realize Jimmy was still in the room until a voice behind him said, "Has that threat ever actually worked on those two?"

As an answer, Perry gruffed, "They're both still here, aren't they?"

Jimmy skewed his lips, nodding slowly. After a pause, he said, "Do you think it ever will?"

Perry was already busy reading something else. "Probably not."

---

They slumped back into their seats. Lois rotated her chair back round with just her heels. They looked at each other. She moved only her shoulders. "I thought that went well."

It made him laugh, and it felt like a release. He shook his head, a haunted expression on his face. "What a couple of days."

She put both hands to her eyes, wiped them to her cheeks, "I can't believe it's only Monday morning."

"Did you manage to get some sleep?"

She snorted. "I crawled into bed the second I got home. My head hit the pillow and I woke up twenty hours later with this morning's alarm."

He grinned. "A little, then."

She swished a hand through the air. "A double shot of expresso and I'll be operating at maximum capacity, don't worry about it."

They smiled at each other for long enough to make it awkward.

"Speaking of which." Lois brushed at a non-existent strand of hair while her eyes searched her desk, "My guy finally faxed through the paperwork on that waste management site." She found the print outs she was looking for and held them up. "Looks interesting. You want in?"

Clark checked his wrist. "I can't. I have a nine thirty with a Doctor..." he frowned, flipping open a note pad, "Levin. At Metropolis Zoo."

She couldn't resist. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

He ignored her smirk and the sparkle in her eyes. "I believe we'll be discussing the nutritional merits of bamboo shoots."

She lifted her chin, "The baby pandas piece." She watched him get up, shrug on his coat, upturn the collar. "Right." She lifted her thumbs off the desk, "Well, your thing sounds way more fun."

He raised an eyebrow to her. "I'll see you later."

He hadn't taken more than a few steps before Lois rose out of her seat and called him back. "Hey, Clark, wait."

He shuffled back to his desk.

She ran a fingernail in a line along the edge of her desk. "I don't think I ever said thankyou." She looked up. "For Saturday night." She hesitated. "You said that Superman always finds me." A tentative smile played at one corner of her mouth, "But you did." The center of her eyebrows creased. "You rescued me."

Clark was quiet. "Are you feeling okay?"

Lois's expression clouded. "Yeah. Why?"

"An apology, and now a thankyou." Clark quirked his head while touching his thumb and forefinger to the corner of his glasses. "Someone better check with the weather service. I think hell might've frozen over."

She raised her palms at him. "Mock me. Mock away. I am unbowed by your sarcasm." She pointed, eyes narrowed, "And by the way? I've decided that I'm not sure I like this cynical side of you, Smallville."

Clark stuck his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders forward. "I think what you're trying to say is- you owe me."

Looking off to one side, Lois breezed, "I'm not sure that is what I'm trying to say."

Clark smiled. He rocked on his heels. "But you do owe me dinner."

Amused, Lois's eyelids flickered. "Do I?"

He nodded. "Pizza from Pepe's. The Italian Supreme?"

She folded her arms, an irresistible smile dimpling her face. It was like watching the sun come up. "Extra peppers."

He returned her steady gaze. "Mushrooms."

Lois dipped her head. "You know something? I'd really like that." Her fingertips played at the desk. "I have plans, tonight." She shrugged, "Maybe tomorrow?"

"Plans?" Clark said. "Anything special?"

One shoulder twitched. "Not really."

There was a beat before their eyes met. "I can't make tonight either, actually," he admitted. "But um." Something crossed his face, "I hope you two have a good evening."

With pursed lips, she tilted her head at him. She could tell he was fighting a cocky little smile.

Before he left, he told her, "I'll see you later."

---

For about the fortieth time in the last ten minutes Lois set about performing an identical and systematic succession of tasks. She darted from the terrace to the kitchen, then she pulled on a pair of quilted gloves, opened the oven door and poked at two sirloin steaks with a skewer. Then she pulled off the gloves, skipped through to her bedroom, glanced over her reflection, gathered her hair up, took a moment, let it fall around her shoulders again, took another moment, readjusted her dress, skipped back out on to the terrace, and nudged a burning candle one inch to the right. After stepping back to test the overall effect, as an artist might step away from the easel, she changed her mind and nudged the same candlestick one inch to the left. She was ready to begin the whole enterprise again when a disturbance of air behind her forced her to stop.

She could see him, handsome and tall, in the glass of her windows. "Good evening, Lois."

She turned around, willing her heart slow down. "Hey."

Clark hopped off the corner of the terrace ledge to come closer and felt an undercurrent of desire ripple through him. A black cocktail dress flowed down the lines of her body to her knees revealing bare shoulders and the exquisite sweep of her neck to the balmy evening air. Her dark eyes sparkled with light. She was unbearably beautiful. He said, "I hope I'm not too early?"

"You're right on time, actually," she assured him. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Me too." His eyes swept over the beautifully laid table she had set. "Wow."

Lois gave a self-deprecating sniff as she followed the direction of his gaze. As if surprised by what she saw, she waved a hand, "Oh, this? Just something I threw together."

His brow furrowed in seriousness. "I hope you didn't go to any trouble?"

She waved his concern away. "Hey, I saw the news this morning." A slow burning smile curled up one corner of her mouth. "Great job with the bad guys."

He returned the smile. "Thankyou. And ditto." His head bowed before he stepped closer and found her eyes again. "I, uh, couldn't have done it without you. Even if your methods," he glanced off to the side, picking his words, "sometimes leave something to be desired." Off her look, he apologized, but not entirely sincerely, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to nag."

"Did you see the article, yesterday?"

He nodded, grinning. "I especially enjoyed the line about the cheesemakers."

Lois chuckled. "That was Jimmy's idea. I'll have to tell him."

Superman nodded and they found themselves staring at each other. Breathing and staring. His eyes were such an impossible shade of blue. A little flustered, Lois lifted her hand to her shoulder to gesture behind her and absently left her fingertips there, touching her collar bone. "Well. Dinner's nearly ready."

"It smells great."

"It's my own special recipe," Lois breathed. Then she felt her cheeks burning, she stuttered, "Um..."

She watched a look of mischief pass over his face as he studied her. "You're blushing."

The air around them felt charged. She fixed her eyes on his. "Yes." She swallowed. "You're staring at my lips."

He nudged forward, closing the gap between them. The smile faded from his face. "Yes."

She seemed to sway and he heard her whimper, "Superman."

He reached up to touch his fingers to the side of her face, to stroke away a wisp of hair. "Lois."

She was electrified by him. Every part of her. She closed her eyes. "I love the way you say my name."

He couldn't take his eyes off her. "There's something I want you to know." He brought his other hand up so that he cupped her face. His thumbs stroked the line of her jaw. They stared at each other. It was as if he was waiting for her permission. He started to bend forward. Her chin lifted, their eyelids fluttered closed. He felt her fingertips come up, brush against the bulge of his biceps before they came to rest on his shoulders, felt her breath on his as their mouths opened, searching for each other.

He leaned in. Then, with the tips of their noses touching, he stopped. He made a noise, a sigh of frustration. "Someone wants me."

Lois thought he was joking. She smiled and gave a lazy, throaty, laugh, nudging his nose with hers.

"They're calling me."

Lois blinked her eyes open, "Oh." Immediately she sobered, straightened, stepped away from him. "Of course."

Clark's heart sank. She was no more than a pace apart but it felt like a chasm had opened up. "A stolen car."

Not quite sure what to do with her hands anymore, Lois ended up placing them flat to the small of her back. "You better go."

They looked at each other. Unspoken things passed between them.

He shook his head sadly, gestured at the empty dinner plates and wine glasses. "I'm sorry you went to all this trouble."

"Trouble? This?" She made a face. "It's nothing." But Clark heard the snag in her voice.

He stepped towards her with a serious expression on his face. "No, it's not nothing." He bobbed his head. "I just wanted to tell you." He searched out her eyes. "I just wanted to tell you. I appreciate it. Everything. This." His bottom jaw moved. "You." He burned for her. "Just in case there were any doubts about that."

Lois gave him a lopsided grin that said, 'It's okay, I understand.' "I guess I'll see you next time."

She watched the familiar smile win out. The one from the newspapers and tv pictures, and it hurt like hell. Stoic and inscrutable. On the brink of gaining something, it was as if she'd had something torn away from her instead, and she felt it's loss keenly.

"Next time." There was a slight bend of his knees before another rush of air and he was gone, like he had never been there at all.

With her hands on her waist she let out a steady lungful of breath from between a small gap in her lips.

She trudged over to collect everything away. She lay one clean plate on top of the other and blew out the candles. She stopped what she was doing to balance herself on the table. After a few second's pause she began to clear up again, except much more quickly.

She hurried inside to turn off the oven and put on a coat. Then she was going over to Pepe's to order some pizza. And then she was going to deliver it.