Not the Years But the Moments

By Terry Leatherwood

Rated: PG-13 (for extreme emotional stress)

Submitted: March 2015

Summary: When Clark is shot during the events of the episode
"That Old Gang of Mine," Lois decides that loving him is too
dangerous and she forces them apart. But when Clark's parents
are kidnapped and Clark is ordered to trade Lois' dead body for
their safety, she decides to take an active role in their rescue
and changes everything between them, including their future
together. Set in season two and goes forward from there.

Story Size: 69,950 words (376Kb as text)

WHAM warning: One of the central characters dies young and the
other eventually finds love with another person. You have been
warned.

The familiar characters of this story are not my own but are the
property of corporate entities (DC Comics, December 3rd
Productions, ABC, etc.) other than myself. This work is a labor
of love and is presented with no expectation of remuneration.

***

>>> Prologue

Perry shuffled the cards and flexed his shoulders. "Last hand
for the night, folks. It's getting late. Our banker, Clark, will
settle up with everyone before you leave." He set the deck on
the table to his right. "Your cut, I believe, ma'am?" he
offered.

The short, sharp-eyed, red-headed lawyer tapped the top of the
deck with her index finger. "I like the cards just as they are.
No cutting needed."

"Your choice, Ms. McClure."

"I already told all of you, it's just Sharon, please. I'm Ms.
McClure during office hours or to my slow-paying clients."

Perry and Clark chuckled. Jimmy assayed a weak smile. Lois only
glared.

"Sounds fine to me," Perry replied. "Here we go, folks,
five-card draw, nothing wild, pair of jacks or better to open.
Everybody ante up a pair of white chips."

Plastic disks clicked against each other as the five players
tossed money in the pot. The editor dealt five cards to each
player. "Your bet, Lois," Perry said. "You in?"

"Five bucks."

"Your hand's that good, partner?"

"Just call, raise, or fold, Clark."

"Okay. Here's your five."

Perry lifted one eyebrow. "Your bet, Jimmy. How brave are
you?"

"Brave enough to be smart and not bet against Ms. McClure --
sorry, Sharon. But I'm in for five."

Sharon picked up a chip and tossed it in the pot. "The lady
lawyer rides the wave with five."

"And the dealer matches the five and raises five more. Anybody
ready to quit yet?"

The other four players grunted, groaned, or chuckled, but each
one put another five in the pot. Perry nodded and picked up the
deck again.

"How many cards, Lois?"

"Just two, Chief."

"Fine with me. Clark, what about you?"

"Three."

"Here you go. How many, Jimmy?"

"I'll play these."

"Oh, I like an optimist. Sharon?"

"I'll take one, Mr. White."

"Here's your one, and the dealer takes two." Perry picked up
his cards and smiled. "Now the real fun begins. Who beats who,
and who goes home happy? Your bet, Lois."

"I like these cards. I'm in for ten."

Clark flashed a mega-watt grin at her. "I'll match your ten,
Lois, and raise you five."

Perry leaned back and lifted his eyebrows. "Watch out, we got a
high roller over here! I call your raise, Clark. Jimmy, that's
fifteen to you."

"I know, I know!" He played with his cards for a moment, then
sighed deeply. "Nuts! I fold."

Sharon tilted her head to one side. "You may have given up too
fast, Jimmy. Here's your fifteen, Lois, and ten more. Are you
still in?"

"Of course I am! Call. C'mon, Clark, call her."

"I don't know, Lois. I don't think my hand is that strong."

"Oh! Men!" She reached into Clark's pile of chips and tossed
another ten into the pot. "There! You call!"

"Wait a minute! You don't know what I have!"

"And you don't know that when you play poker you don't play
the cards, you play the other players! Your bet, Perry!"

"Let's see, that's twenty-five to me, right?"

"Right."

"Well, then, Sharon, let's find out what you're made of.
Here's the twenty-five, and twenty more."

Clark smiled ruefully at his cards and put them face-down on the
table. "I'm out."

"Clark! You can't quit like that!"

"My cards, my decision, Lois. I can quit any way I want to, and
I'm out. It's you and Perry and Sharon on this hand."

"Well I'm not folding! Twenty! And ten more!"

Perry gave her an
Elvis-approves-of-the-banana-and-peanut-butter-sandwich grin.
"I'll match that ten, Lois."

Sharon nodded approvingly. "Well, well, well, it seems we have a
couple of players after all. That's thirty to me, right?" She
sat back and tapped the upper edges of her cards with her free
hand. "Okay, it's only money. I call."

"I got you this time, Sharon! Lay them out where we can see
them."

"Very well, Lois. Full house, tens over threes."

"What! You mean -- oh, nuts!" Lois threw down her cards face up
to reveal three queens. "Again with the great hand!"

Perry chuckled. "My, my, my. I'm glad my back was against the
wall." He put down his hand and displayed two black aces, two
black eights, and the jack of diamonds.

Sharon smiled broadly. "Whoa! I'm glad we aren't in
Deadwood!"

Jimmy frowned in confusion. "What? Wait, Sharon, what does
Deadwood have to do with the Chief's poker hand?"

Sharon raked the pile of chips to the rest of her winnings for
the night. "According to legend, kiddo, that was the hand Wild
Bill Hickok was holding when he was shot in the back of the head
in 1876. Black aces over black eights, although there's some
disagreement over the fifth card. Gamblers nowadays call it the
dead man's hand."

Lois crossed her arms and huffed. "Thanks for the history
lesson, but I'm ready for the next hand! I want some of my money
back."

"Sorry, people," said Perry, "but morning comes early
tomorrow, and this old newshound needs to get some shut-eye. I
already said this was the last hand." He stood and stretched.
"Everybody cash in and go get some sleep. Good night, folks. I
want to see Lois, Clark, and Jimmy in the office no later than
nine in the morning." He picked up his coat and half-bowed to
the red-haired woman sorting her chips. "Thank you for a most
instructive evening, Sharon. I hope you'll remember this night
the next time one of your colleagues decides to give me grief
about a story I want to run."

She smiled back at him. "No promises, but I will remember that
you're more than willing to contribute to my retirement fund."

Everyone but Lois laughed. "I'm glad you all find this so
amusing. I'm going home. Clark, I'll see you tomorrow. You can
give me whatever's left of my stake then."

"Okay. Are we still on for breakfast tomorrow?"

She stopped in the doorway and her expression softened. "Yes.
Come by and pick me up, okay?"

"Only if I can grab a ride with you from there."

"Consider it done, partner. Good night, everyone."

The other two men exchanged their meager chips for cash. Perry
collected Jimmy with his eyes and they walked out together.
"How'd she clean us out so easily, Chief?" Jimmy asked. "It
was like she could see our cards."

Perry laughed. "I'll explain it to you when you're older,
son."

Clark pulled a stack of bills out of his pocket and counted them
out. "I think you made a real dent in Lois' disposable income
tonight."

Sharon laughed. "It's actually pretty easy when you know
how."

"I see. So, you've made a comprehensive study of poker odds?"

"Hardly. Your partner was right about several things tonight,
but the one about poker that she really nailed is that you don't
play the cards, you play the people."

Clark frowned. "I'm not sure I understand that any more now
than when Lois said it."

She folded the bills he gave her and put them in her purse, then
took the cards and shuffled them expertly. "Look, you need a
good hand to win, at least most of the time, but you have to know
something about what your opponents have and what they're going
to do with what they've got. Will he bluff? Will she play
cautiously? Will he try to win small pots along the way and end
up a medium-sized winner instead of going for the big score? You
have to read the other players."

He shrugged. "Still don't understand."

"You need to know each player's tells. And before you ask,
that's a poker term for something a player does to tip off the
kind of hand he or she has."

"I understand the concept, I think, but I'm still fuzzy on the
details."

"Okay, I'll take pity on you. You're easy to read. You only
bet when you have good cards. You didn't even have a pair of
jacks on that last hand, did you?"

"Not to start with. I ended up with two pair, deuces and
fives."

"Not bad, but not great, either. It wouldn't have beaten any of
the other hands except maybe Jimmy's, and I don't know what he
had. He lost two pretty good-sized pots early on and got gun-shy.
Running him out was easy unless he had really good cards, so I
knew I could beat him unless he had a killer hand. And unless he
has that killer hand, he plays with his cards like he's trying
to rewrite the values."

She fanned the cards in her right hand. "Now Lois, she's a
risk-taker, but the worse her hand is the louder she gets and the
more she frowns. I knew she had a borderline hand when she raided
your chips."

"Three queens is borderline?"

"For her it is. She wants the big score every time. It's part
of what makes her such a good reporter, but it can work against
her, too."

"I'm beginning to understand what you mean. What about
Perry?"

"Oh, man," moaned Sharon. "Beating him was the luck of the
draw tonight. He's easily the best player you guys brought. His
only real tell is that he tends to get more charming and
down-home Southern when he has a weak hand. That's the only way
I was able to keep out of trouble with him."

"Very enlightening." Clark stood and shrugged into his suit
jacket. "And I suppose you gained these people-reading skills in
either law school or in the courtroom?"

She allowed him to open the door for her. "Nope. I supplemented
my income in college by playing poker in Vegas. After all, I got
my pre-law degree at the University of Nevada."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. I think there are a couple of casinos that still won't
let me walk through the doors."

They shared a laugh as they walked down the hall to the elevator.
Courteous as always, Clark allowed his female companion to enter
before him, and he was still chuckling as the doors slid shut.

***

Lois watched from the darkened side room as Clark and Sharon
walked down the hall. What were they laughing about? What was so
funny? And why was this woman lawyer walking so close to Clark?
She was too chubby for Clark! He liked slender women!

Or -- did he?

A still, small voice whispered to her that all men were
unfaithful, that all men were out to use her, that even Clark
would break her heart if she let him get too close.

Another part of her brain insisted that Clark was not like other
men, that he was as faithful as the daily sunrise, if not more
so, and if he ever broke her heart his only desire would be to
mend it again.

The argument with herself was getting more intense as time went
by. It was taking more of her time and energy to keep up with the
two sides of herself. And neither side was winning.

She pulled her jacket tighter as if warding off a chill. This
constant internal bickering was starting to get her down. She
needed something to cheer her up, something to take her mind off
her own relationships. And seeing that classic 1932 Ford V-8
sedan that Perry had been bragging about all afternoon might be
just the ticket. He insisted that it had once been driven by
Clyde Barrow on one of his getaway romps in Oklahoma. Or was it
Texas? Or maybe Kansas?

No matter. She loved to tease the men about their toys. Even
Clark would be impressed. Hearing the guys ooh and ahh over an
old car would take her mind off her own problems and give her a
good laugh.

She hoped.

***

>>> Chapter One

Clark was exhausted.

He was mildly surprised that he could be exhausted given his
powers, but as he thought back over the past few days he realized
that he hadn't slept at all since before he'd been "shot to
death" in Georgie Hairdo's club. Add to that his uninterrupted
searching for Capone and his gang of reconstituted clones, fold
in his frantic mental search for some way for Clark Kent to
survive, stir in his anguish over leaving Lois to think he was
dead, and it was no wonder he was wiped out.

He closed his eyes and settled down in the passenger seat of
Lois' Jeep. Maybe she'd just take him back to his place and
drop him off. Maybe she wouldn't feel like talking.

The soft stream-of-consciousness buzz from the driver's side
told him that his probability assessments of her actions were,
yet again, wrong by orders of magnitude, and that Lois Lane was
just as much a mystery to him tonight as she had ever been. Maybe
she'd quiet down if he ignored her and let himself drop off to
sleep. He really didn't have the energy to keep up with her
tonight.

Her sweater and slacks ensemble were ruined by the cement that
still clung to her and with which she had coated him when he'd
appeared out of the fog at the dock. Even the small blanket the
police had given her, on which she now sat to protect the Jeep's
driver's seat, would be useless for anything else. He wasn't
sure he could clean up his clothes, either. They might be
destroyed by now, although he hoped not. He liked that jacket.

The backhanded slap across the chest she abruptly gave him
splashed a small dollop of still-damp concrete onto his chin and
ensured that his sports jacket would soon join her clothes in the
city dump.

"Wake up, you lunkhead!"

As he sat up and wiped off his chin, he turned to her and said,
"I assume you want to say something to me and that you aren't
just mad at me."

Her hands were white where she gripped the steering wheel, and
they were strained as if she were still trying to pull herself
out of that barrel of wet cement. Her eyes bore straight ahead
and her teeth were mashed together so hard Clark was afraid she
might break one of them.

"Lois," he called softly, "please pull over before you wreck
the car."

She gave him a hard glance, full of unidentifiable emotion. Then
she swerved to the curb and parked in front of an open donut
shop. Then she grabbed the wheel again as if it were the only
thing keeping her from flying apart.

"Thank you. Now what is it that you want?"

She all but pried her fingers from the wheel and crossed her arms
over her chest. "Actually, there is something I need to say to
you, Clark."

She stopped. He waited for a long moment.

He was about to prompt her when she spun in the seat to face him.
"You know I -- I have some pretty strong feelings for you,
right?"

He nodded, unwilling to appear to be guiding her. This was
starting to sound good -- he hoped.

"And I know you have some pretty strong feelings for me, too,
don't you? I mean positive feelings, more than just comfortable
coworkers or friends or friendly rivals or -- or anything like
that."

He nodded again. This sounded like a very good thing.

"Okay. Then you -- you also know that I don't have a good track
record with relationships, especially romantic ones." She waved
her hands aimlessly. "Actually, I can't think of any
relationships of any kind that I haven't damaged at one time or
another. Or that the other person hasn't damaged. I mean, I
can't stand to be around either of my parents for very long, my
sister and I don't see eye-to-eye on anything important because
she's such a flake and she thinks I don't know how to have fun,
Perry thinks I'm a great reporter but that I'm a workaholic,
Jimmy dodges me if he sees me coming, Capone and Dillinger wanted
to entomb me in concrete and sink me in the harbor, and even
Superman has backed away from me." She dropped her chin to her
chest and almost sobbed. "I -- I don't know why you're still
hanging around. I really don't. I'm a disaster waiting for
someone to get close enough to get caught in the blast radius."

This did not sound so good. "Lois, I don't believe--"

"That's because you're such a great guy!" she wailed.
"That's why you don't believe it! You're a really great guy
with terrific parents and Perry thinks the world of you and Jimmy
puts up with me but he really likes you and Sharon thinks you're
better than sliced bread and peanut butter and you don't need me
destroying your life!"

Oh, this was bad, really bad. He had to reassure her of his
fidelity. "I promise you, Lois, I'm not interested in Sharon --
who are you talking about, anyway?"

"Sharon McClure, the poker player! The one who took everyone's
money the other night! And if you don't like her I know that new
ADA Mayson Drake would snap you up like you were on the bargain
counter at Macy's!" She put her hand on his upper arm. "Oh,
Clark, not that you're not worth more than that, it's just that
she's so hot for you she can't eat ice cream without melting it
all over herself."

He was all but drowning in mixed metaphors. "Lois! Now please,
stop this! I don't want Sharon or Mayson or any other woman in
Metropolis! I want to get closer to you!"

Her eyes froze over and her hand retreated to the ignition key.
"That's too bad, farm boy. Because I'm stopping any kind of
relationship we might have had right now! I think too highly of
you to let you hang around me. I'm a disaster magnet and I
won't be responsible for you getting killed again!" She
wrenched the key around and yanked the gearshift lever into
drive. "Now let me get you home and I'll see you at work when
your doctor says you can come back and not one minute before!"

He forced his mouth closed and shook his head. Why couldn't he
have just slept through her slap?

He had to try once more. "Lois, look, you've had a tough few
days--"

"That's right, I have! And if I could hurt this much because I
-- because I thought I'd never see you again then I can't in
good conscience let anyone else risk that kind of pain with
me!"

"Don't you think that I should be involved in that choice?"

"No I don't think you should be involved! This is for your own
good, Kent, and I'm not backing off from this! You work your
side of the newsroom and I'll work mine! If Perry teams us up
for a story I'll be professional about it and you'd better be
the same! But no more secret smiles or double entendre
conversations or hints about dates or cute notes or flowers or
even coffee in the morning! You got that?"

This couldn't be happening. She couldn't be saying those
things. She couldn't be calling it quits between them before
they really got started.

He took a deep breath and tried again. "What if I don't want
that? What if I want to pursue a relationship with you anyway?"

He heard her gasp, or sob, or hiccup, or something. Then she
blinked several times and gritted her teeth again. "Tough tacos,
pal. There's no 'we' now. There's just you and me and we're
not going to be together, not ever, not in any personal way."

He sat back and took another deep breath. "Can we still be
friends?"

She stopped at a traffic light and drummed her fingers on the
wheel. "In a limited sense, yes. But I won't butt into your
life and you won't butt into mine. If we happen to be at the
same social function and neither of us is working, we won't make
a scene and neither of us will storm out in anger and we won't
snub each other. But we're not going to leave together, either.
And don't ever ask me to dance with you again."

He looked through the windshield as the light turned green and
she stomped the gas pedal. "That's a bit harsh, don't you
think?"

She didn't look at him. "No, I don't. Get it through your
thick skull, Clark. We're never going to be an 'us' except as
reporters on the same paper."

He could tell she wasn't going to change her mind right now.
"All right, Lois, I surrender. No 'us' unless we're writing
the story."

"Good." She opened her mouth to add something but apparently
changed her mind. "There's your apartment up ahead. I assume
you can get in?"

"I'm sure the key is still under the plant."

Her mouth worked again and Clark thought she was about to launch
into a short rant on his over-trust of Metropolis' citizens. But
she stopped whatever she was going to say as she pulled up to the
curb outside his building's front door. "Here you go. Get some
rest and get healthy."

"Thank you." He hesitated, hoping for more that didn't come.
"Good night."

She nodded sharply without looking at him.

He exited the Jeep and closed the door. Lois pulled away without
turning her head to look at him.

He turned and trudged up the steps to his place. It was the
stress, he thought. It had to be the stress of losing him and
getting him back so abruptly combined with her own near-death
experience. She'd feel different in a few days, no matter how
sure of herself she sounded at the moment.

For a moment he almost smiled. Lois had just confessed to him
that she cared about him deeply, more deeply than he'd dared
believe a few days earlier. He'd managed to penetrate her
emotional defenses more thoroughly than he'd known.

But it wasn't a good thing. She'd just thrown up a new barrier
between them, what military planners called a "defense in
depth," designed to present an attacker with a series of
obstacles to be overcome instead of putting all of the defense's
energy and effort into a single point. It reminded him of a
football team, with the defensive line attacking the offensive
line, the linebackers patrolling the area directly behind the
linemen, and the defensive backs dropping even further back, all
of them focused on keeping the offense from moving the ball to
the goal line.

Clark sighed. Whether it was a military or a sports metaphor,
he'd just run up against the proverbial brick wall around Lois'
heart. But now it was festooned with poisoned spikes and
patrolled by grim-faced defenders, each with Lois' features,
ready to drop hot sand or large rocks or fiery brands on anyone
approaching the citadel.

Wow. He really was worn out. He probably should take the next day
off and lay in the sun from morning to evening. And he should
stop watching war movies for a while.

He pulled the key from beneath the planter and leaned his head
against the door frame. She had to feel different tomorrow. She
just had to.

He wasn't sure he could stay in Metropolis without the prospect
of winning Lois' heart.

***

She managed to turn the corner before the tears came.

She pulled over again and turned off the motor, then dropped her
face into her hands and let the agony penetrate all her heart's
defenses. She forgot what coherent thought was as she soaked her
hands, her sleeves, the top of her sweater, even the edges of the
blanket the police had given her.

She'd hurt him so badly.

But he'd hurt her, too, and it wasn't his fault that she
couldn't take the pain. It wasn't his fault that Lois Lane,
intrepid investigative reporter, was too much a coward to risk
her heart on the best man she'd ever known. It wasn't Clark's
fault that she believed -- no, it wasn't just a belief, it was
an absolutely certainty -- that if she ever let herself love him
like she wanted to love him and she lost him for any reason it
would kill her. She wouldn't have to overdose on sleeping pills
or jump off a building or shoot herself in the head or inject
poison into her veins. If she were to allow herself to love him
and then somehow she lost him, her heart would just quit on her
and she'd drop dead wherever she was, whatever she was doing.

Lois was certain she couldn't survive losing Clark if she let
herself love him.

So the only option was to prevent it from happening in the first
place.

As her crying jag began to wind down, she remembered how many
tears she'd already shed over Clark. She'd thought him dead,
just like the rest of the city. Jimmy had mourned him. Perry had
missed him deeply. His absence had cast a pall over the entire
news staff. Everyone had been affected by his death.

But none of them thought their lives had ended with his.

Hers had.

And then he was back, hale and hearty and smiling and she'd run
to him and embraced him and covered him with wet cement and he
hadn't minded. She didn't care if Superman had used Professor
Hamilton's process to bring him back to her. All that mattered
was that he was back, that he was breathing and walking and
smiling that smile that lit up whatever room he entered.

Then the cold icy truth had set in. Lois had already lost her
heart to him. And if he died again, her heart would die with
him.

She couldn't risk that. It would hurt too much. She couldn't
risk seeing him, loving him, even having him all to herself, all
the while knowing that there was no guarantee that he'd be alive
to take the next breath. The thought of seeing him in a coffin or
having to identify him on a slab at the morgue or seeing him dead
on the street because he'd just taken a bullet or a knife or a
bomb meant for her nearly tore her apart. She couldn't risk
being destroyed by her love for a man who might die the next day,
the next hour, the next minute.

She couldn't spend every moment in fear. She couldn't spend the
rest of her years terrified that she'd lose him to death.
Another woman? Never happen, not with Clark. And even if it did,
she could deal with it, work to get him back.

She knew she couldn't take losing him to Death, the coldest and
cruelest mistress of all.

It was better this way. Clark deserved to be with a woman who was
willing to risk her heart with him despite his dangerous
lifestyle. He should be with someone who would love him and take
care of him but would go on if she lost him. And that wasn't
going to be her.

Nor could she risk the pain of losing him to her own relationship
cancer. Every man she'd ever cared about had walked -- or run --
away from her for one reason or another. Her father had led the
parade, but there were a number of others following him in a
conga line of disappointment and betrayal. Some had left her,
others had been abandoned or driven away, but all of her
relationships with men had failed.

And she cared too much about Clark to number him among that
company.

She swiped the heel of her hand across her eyes once more and
restarted the car. She was ready for a hot shower and a long
sleep. The shower would come first, then she'd type up some
notes to Perry and email them to him, and by then her hair would
be dry enough for her to go to bed. She hadn't slept since the
night of the shooting -- at least, not very well or for very long
-- and she was exhausted. Her mind was ready to attack the next
story, but she knew her body wouldn't go much farther without
rest.

It was a good thing the police had allowed them to link to
Perry's home phone via their car radio. He'd make sure everyone
at the Planet knew that Clark was still alive -- or alive again,
whichever it was -- and that she'd send some notes for her part
of the story as soon as she could. It was already too late to get
anything in the morning edition, but she knew the evening edition
would display the banner in fifty-four point type.

It saddened her to think that it might be the last story where
she and Clark shared a byline.

Enough of this. Time for her shower, then the email to Perry,
then sleep. Her clothes would go into the dumpster as soon as she
got up and got dressed. She'd really liked that outfit, too.

And Clark had liked it. So maybe it was appropriate that she
dispose of it at the same she disposed of any possibility of a
relationship with Clark.

The finality of that thought almost started her tears again, but
she forced them back. She would no longer cry for a man she would
never have. Clark was out of her life forever.

***

>>> Chapter Two

Lois walked down the ramp to the newsroom at eleven-thirty the
following morning and made a beeline for Perry's office. She
needed to get back to work as soon as possible. She had to be
distracted, had to have something to occupy her mind and her
time, something productive.

She didn't quite make it.

"Lois!" cried Jimmy. "Ain't it great? CK's coming back
tomorrow morning! Superman saved him!"

She tried to wiggle past him. "I know, Jimmy, I was there last
night. Clark's fine." Then she stopped and frowned at the young
man. "He's coming back to work tomorrow? Already?"

"Yeah! He and Professor Hamilton went to STAR Labs this morning
and got Dr. Klein to check him out. They both say he's as fine
as he can be! The Chief told him to take several days off, but he
wants to come back tomorrow, so yeah! Ain't that great?"

Lois allowed herself a small smile as she watched the young man
bounce along on his errand, stopping every so often to celebrate
Clark being alive. It was refreshing to see someone so singularly
enthusiastic about Clark's return.

But now it was time to see Perry.

She tapped on the glass in the door and waited for her boss'
bellowed "Come in!" before she turned the door handle. Perry
was staring at a mockup of the evening edition as if he were
trying to set it on fire.

"Chief, do you have a minute?"

"Can't you see I'm -- Lois!" He jumped to his feet and all
but ran around the desk to grab her by the shoulders. "Lois,
honey, you didn't have to come in today! You were almost killed
last night! You need some time to let your mind settle down."

She patted his elbow. "Thanks, but I'd rather get back to
work."

"Aw, now, you don't have to!"

"But I want to. And I promise not to go chasing any gangsters
for a while."

He leaned back and tilted his head at her. "Does that mean that
you're willing to stay in the office for a few days?"

Lois pulled away and sat on the tattered and worn couch, one of
the very few relics left from the old building before Luthor
bombed it. "It does. But I also wanted to let you know about the
ground rules Clark and I discussed last night."

"Ground rules? What kind of ground rules?"

She tried to hold his gaze but couldn't. Her chin tapped her
chest and her voice dropped in volume. "I -- we decided that we
-- we're not going to pursue any kind of romantic relationship.
But we also agreed to be professional at the paper and in
public."

"I see." Perry crossed his arms and leaned back against his
desk. "Was this Clark's idea or yours?"

"Well -- both of us -- I brought it up -- it was mostly -- all
mine."

"Yours, huh? And how did Clark take that declaration of
independence on your part?"

Her head snapped up and she glared at him, but there was nothing
in his face but compassion. "He -- he didn't like it."

Perry nodded. "You know, this is quite a turnaround from the
other day. You came in here the morning after the shooting and
couldn't stop crying. You told me you were devastated, just torn
apart, because Clark was gone and you'd never told him how you
felt about him. What's with the big switcharoo?"

Lois turned her head away. "I just felt -- I thought that we --
that he and I--"

And now her eyes were damp again. She slapped the couch with both
palms. "Blast it, Perry! I'm scared, okay? I'm scared that if
I really fall in love with him and he with me and he dies then I
won't survive it!" She crossed her arms and turned to her left,
away from the glass in Perry's office. "I don't think I'd
want to survive it."

"I see. At least, I think I do." Perry paused and sighed, then
went on. "Lois, that young man would walk on water for you or
drown trying. He'd lasso the biggest bull he could find and hold
it while you branded it if it gored his insides out. There's
nothing Clark Kent wouldn't do for Lois Lane." He slipped off
the desk and sat beside her on the couch. "And it's because he
loves you more than he loves life itself."

Her eyes clenched shut and she stifled a sob. "Don't you think
I know that? And don't you think I know what he'd go through if
I died before he did? I can't do that to him, Perry! I can't
put him through that pain." She leaned forward and buried her
face in her hands. "I just can't!"

He reached out and gently rubbed her shoulders. "There, there,
honey. I understand. One of the reasons I'm an editor now and
not an investigator is because Alice didn't want me sticking my
head in the lion's mouth any more. It scared her when I'd go on
a stakeout or work with the police on a case or go undercover, so
I wangled a promotion to the editorial staff and made her feel a
lot better." He sighed. "For a while, anyway."

He dropped his hands. "Look, Lois, there aren't any guarantees
in life. You could die just as easily from falling down a flight
of stairs as you could from some killer somewhere. Clark might
get shot by some other gangster or he might get hit by a bus."
He reached out and tugged on her arm until she turned her face
toward him. "And you both might live to be over a hundred.
There's no way to predict when anyone will buy the farm."

She nodded. "My head knows that, Perry, but my heart can't take
it. Right now I think I'd rather be stuck up in Rapunzel's
tower than ride a horse behind Prince Charming." She looked at
the floor. "It's not very brave, I know, but that's about all
I can handle right now."

He sighed again. "Okay. I'll see if I can give out the
assignments so that you two don't work together too much.
Remember that I have to consider Clark's feelings in this, too.
You aren't the only one who's going to suffer."

"I know." She pulled a hankie out of her sleeve and blew her
nose, then stood. "I'm going to the ladies' room to clean up,
then I'll start going through my notes and see what I can give
you today. I promise you, this won't affect the quality of my
work."

"Good. Now you take your time today. Give yourself the afternoon
to find your balance again, and be ready to hit the ground
running in the morning."

She nodded and turned toward the door, then stopped with her hand
on the knob. "Clark's coming back in the morning, isn't he?
That's what Jimmy said."

"Yes, he is. Will that be a problem?"

"Not for me. But you may have to give him a pep talk too."

"I'll do what needs to be done for the Daily Planet, Lois. I
care a great deal for both you and Kent, but the paper has to be
my primary focus."

"I know. I'm certain Clark will be professional about this
whole thing. You might not have to say anything to him."

As she closed the door, she heard something from her boss that
sounded like, "Oh, yes I will."

***

It was his first day back and it was already time to go home.

Clark had survived Perry's sympathetic counsel and nodded
reluctant agreement with his editor's admonition that the Daily
Planet had to be published irrespective of the personal feelings
of its reporters. He'd managed not to pour a second cup of
coffee for Lois before turning on his computer. And he'd somehow
been able to keep from embracing her as they passed on the ramp
that afternoon.

Clark hadn't been sure he'd make it through the day with Lois
just a few desks away, but he had. He hadn't believed he could
stay away from her all day, but he'd managed. He was really
concerned that Perry would move one or both of them to different
parts of the news floor so they'd be farther away from each
other, but that hadn't happened either. At least, not yet.

And now that the work day was over and they'd managed to say
nothing more than "Good morning" or "Good night" to each
other, he was about to blow it all.

The sun wasn't quite down on the horizon as Superman flew past
Lois' apartment building. A quick glance told him that her
window was closed. That was no surprise. They hadn't spoken
personally since the night he'd gone to see her in the Suit
after she'd asked Clark to send him to her except to tell her
that he'd look for Clark the night he'd been shot. He wondered
if cutting off that relationship had contributed to her walling
off Clark, but he couldn't know that unless he asked her.

He'd been thinking of a trick that might get her attention
without his having to hover outside her window. If he focused his
airflow when he spoke, he might be able to make the window
vibrate like the fabric of a loudspeaker and reproduce his voice
inside a closed room.

He'd practiced on some windows in an unoccupied cabin outside
the city with a tape recorder inside, but the results had been
mixed. His first attempt had shattered the window and delayed him
while he replaced the glass. His second try had resulted in
garbled nonsense being recorded. After more experiments, he'd
found that it could work if the window was large enough, wasn't
cracked, was firmly secured in the frame, and if he spoke very
slowly from a ninety-degree angle perpendicular to the window's
surface.

So now he'd try this new trick on Lois' window. He waited on
one of the few rooftop gargoyles in that part of town, watching
her move around inside as she prepared a microwave dinner. He
decided to wait until she was finished before he tried it.

He glanced away to the street below, checking for bad people
doing bad things, trying to find a reason to delay this
conversation, but found none. When he looked back at Lois, he saw
that she had cleared the table and was in the kitchen. If she
followed her usual pattern, she'd put the dishes in the sink to
soak and move them to the dishwasher before she went to bed. He
just had to wait --

No. No more waiting. It was now or never.

"Lois?" he called.

She jerked around in mid-step and stared at the window with her
hand at her throat. "Don't -- be -- afraid. It's --
Superman."

Her jaw dropped open and she took a step back. "Superman? How --
how are you doing this? Why do you sound so freaky? And where are
you?"

"Please -- open -- the -- window. I -- want -- to -- talk."

"Um -- well -- yeah, okay."

She slowly made her way to the window and opened it, then stepped
back abruptly. He flashed in, too quick for anyone to glance up
and see him.

"Superman! What are you doing? How did you do that? You scared
the cr -- the daylights out of me!"

He raised his hand for a moment. "I'm sorry, Lois. I didn't
want to bring any undue attention on you. I'd hate for anyone to
start a rumor that you were Superman's girlfriend."

Her breathing had slowed to something close to normal. "Okay,
fine, I get that! But why the
slow-motion-mad-scientist-on-downers voice?"

"I was using the window to reproduce my vocal sounds. It
doesn't always work, and if I talk too fast the window tries to
vibrate too quickly and it shatters. I didn't want to do that to
you."

She put her fists on her hips and scowled at him. "Yeah, well,
maybe next time you can just pick up a phone and call like a
normal person!"

He almost reminded her that he wasn't a normal person, but
decided not to get into that. "Clark told me about your --
agreement with him. I guess you know he's not happy about it."

"Of course he's not happy! He's a man and men don't like not
being in charge!"

This time he couldn't hold in his irritation. "I see. And, of
course, you don't identify with that mindset at all, do you?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Not your business, Superman. What
does or does not happen between me and Clark stays between me and
Clark."

"No. It doesn't."

His flat declaration seemed to startle her. "What do -- are you
-- why are you here, anyway?"

"What I mean is that what you do affects other people, aside
from the obvious ones. I've seen women do stupid things that
they wouldn't have normally done if their husbands had treated
them with a little kindness or respect on one particular morning.
I've seen husbands make stupid decisions because they thought
their wives were angry at them for no good reason. I've seen
employees punch their bosses in the mouth because someone else
said or did something that morning or the night before that set
them on edge." He softened his tone further. "And I've seen
one particular reporter do some spectacularly dangerous things
because she misunderstood what someone was trying to tell her, or
because deep down she was trying to gain someone's approval.
That ring any bells?"

She assumed an angelic countenance. "I've no idea to whom you
might be referring, Superman. I hear no bells."

"Of course not. There is one specific question I wanted to ask
you, though. May I?"

She released a long-suffering sigh. "Sure, as long as you're
already here."

"I wanted to ask you if there's anything I've done -- or not
done -- that contributed to your problems with Clark."

She lifted her hands to either side. "I don't have any problems
with Clark!"

"He seems to think you do. You told him that any kind of
romantic relationship between the two of you was off the table."
He stepped closer and leaned forward at the waist. "Or did Clark
misunderstand what you told him?"

She took a step back and another to one side. "Well, I didn't
use those particular words, but yeah, that was the basic
meaning."

He straightened and nodded. "Okay, now that that's cleared up,
will you answer my question?"

"Which question -- oh, if you're somehow at least partly
responsible for Clark and me being just coworkers?"

He nodded. "Yes."

She frowned and crossed her arms. "I really wish I could say
that you were. That would give me someone to blame besides
myself, and I think your shoulders are big enough to carry that
load." She shook her head and turned away. "But you aren't
responsible. This is between me and Clark and I'm going to ask
you -- as a friend -- not to interfere, no matter how much you
might want to." She turned to him and gave him a pleading look.
"Please?"

The puppy-dog eyes. He could never resist those soft, round,
puppy-dog eyes, whether he was in sweats and sneakers or a
business suit or in The Suit. He nodded. "If that's really what
you want. I won't interfere."

"Thank you."

He turned to go, then stopped by the window. "If I need to come
by to see you again -- on some other matter entirely -- I promise
to call first." He pointed to the table. "On the phone, I
mean."

She almost smiled. "Thanks. Although now that I've heard you do
that, it wouldn't shock me so badly. And it wouldn't bother me
if you used it to scare away burglars."

This time he gave her a completely innocent expression. "Come
now, Lois, any burglar you allowed to live couldn't be such a
bad person."

This time she did smile. "Okay, you win. You'd better take off
and get in a patrol before the bad guys get away."

"I will." An alarm caught his attention. "Uh-oh. Jewelry store
robbery in progress. I'm sorry, Lois, but I have to go."

He flew out the window and was out of sight in seconds, but not
before he heard her last words to him.

"Don't be a stranger, okay, big guy?"

Lois wanted Clark as just a co-worker but she wanted Superman to
be her friend? Great. Could his life get any more complicated
than that?

And could he keep going the way his life was now?

***

>>> Chapter Three

Clark was depressed.

He'd waited months for Lois to come around. He'd worked with
her as just a partner, just another reporter, and sometimes the
role fit. Sometimes it felt natural and easy and smooth.

Other times, not so much.

And there were times when he imagined that he felt like a person
with no powers would feel while chewing tinfoil and walking
barefoot across red-hot carpet tacks while being beaten with a
hungover porcupine. Those were the days when he couldn't do
anything to please her, couldn't say anything that wouldn't set
her off, when he couldn't wait to get away from Lois.

He tried to be sociable to her as Superman, but that was
difficult in the extreme. Not because of Lois, of course, but
because he couldn't be seen as favoring any one woman over all
the rest. It would have made her a target for every crook in the
state. And he found that on those days when she and Clark
clashed, he would deliberately avoid her as Superman because he
didn't want Superman to take Clark's frustration out on her.

He didn't want to punish her for making a hard decision and
staying with it, but even Superman had his limits.

Every once in a while, he'd catch her in a wistful moment and
see a glimpse of regret in her eyes. Every so often, usually at
points of quick progress on important stories, she'd look at him
and smile openly and brightly and make the sun shine a little
brighter. But she'd always catch herself and withdraw from the
moment.

He'd thought he hated her one day.

She'd accidentally met him on the street outside the District
Attorney's office when he was going to give a deposition on Baby
Rage to Mayson Drake and deliberately started an argument with
him. All he'd said was "Hello, Lois, how have you been?" And
she was off on a rant about how he was still obsessing over her.
Her shouting had distracted him enough that he didn't hear the
timer on the bomb in Mayson's car start its countdown and Mayson
had died. Then Lois had burst into tears and run away before
coming back and giving a witness statement to the police.

He'd tried to hate her. He'd really, really tried, but he
couldn't. There was no way he could do anything but love her and
try to be patient.

Then, just days later, when they'd broken the story on the
Resurrection drug and caught Mayson's killer and saved
Metropolis seemingly all at once, she'd pulled herself into his
embrace and hugged him like there was no tomorrow.

But it didn't last. After a moment, she'd stiffened and pushed
back from him, apologizing profusely while looking away as if she
didn't want him to see the tears in her eyes. And, as usual,
she'd refused to listen to his assurances that not only did he
not mind her hug, he thoroughly enjoyed her rare embraces and
sincerely wished that they'd become more frequent.

He hadn't managed to finish a sentence before she'd all but run
away from him.

She'd even gone so far as to set up a date between him and
Sharon McClure, a dinner and a movie on a Friday night. Sharon
and Clark had had a fun time together, but there were no sparks,
as if Clark had expected anything different. Sharon hadn't
seemed to mind, or worse, to be disappointed, nor had she seemed
to expect another invitation. Clark wondered what she'd told
Lois about the date, since Lois had moved on to several other
women she'd tried to set Clark up with. He never got up enough
nerve to ask either of them about it.

Finally he'd told Lois he didn't want to date other women,
didn't want her to "help" him in that way. He still wanted to
get closer to her. She'd all but bitten his head off and stomped
away, tossing "See if I get you any more dates!" over her
shoulder at him. It made for some interesting moments in the
newsroom as other reporters, several interns, and one associate
editor stared at him quizzically as he stalked back to his desk.

That was the pattern for their relationship since the
Capone/Barrow/Parker episode. Every time he thought they were
about to make a personal breakthrough, Lois backed away. He
didn't know how she had the energy and determination to keep him
at a distance because he was worn out.

He couldn't take any more stress from Lois Lane.

So he'd made the decision. It was a decision he'd dreaded, one
he hadn't wanted to make, one he'd tried to avoid, one he'd
consulted his parents about. But it was the only decision he felt
he could make and retain his sanity.

He had to leave the Daily Planet and Metropolis.

And he felt it was right for him to tell Lois personally and not
hear it through the grapevine or in a group announcement from
Perry. He'd tell her himself. If he could get her to come with
him to a public place, maybe for a meal, it might make things
easier for both of them. They'd be limited in the responses they
could give one another -- or, at least, the intensity of their
responses would be limited.

He hoped so, anyway.

There was a new place he'd thought about trying, a restaurant
that he'd heard served a good breakfast. Callard's, that was
it. Maybe he could convince her to join him there.

One last meal with Lois. It sounded so final, so permanent. He
held out a slim, tiny, guttering candle of hope that she'd ask
him not to go, that she'd break down and confess that she still
cared for him, that she'd changed her mind and wanted to explore
a relationship with him.

He sighed. That candle wouldn't heat a thimble of water.

It was the last time. And he knew it.

***

Lois abandoned the residue of her microwave supper and picked up
her phone on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hi, Lois, it's Clark."

"Hello, Clark. How have you been?"

She heard the small sigh before he could control it. "We just
saw each other at the office a couple of hours ago, and I was
fine then."

"A lot can happen in a couple of hours."

"While that may be true, that's not the purpose for my call. I
need to talk to you about something."

"I'm listening now."

"This isn't a conversation I wanted to have over the phone."

She knew she was being difficult, but she had to be. Somehow
Clark still had hope for the two of them, and she couldn't let
him have any encouragement at all. "Clark, if you don't want to
talk to me now, can it just wait until Monday? I have some plans
this weekend."

"This is a very important conversation, and before you ask, no,
I'm not trying to get you to go out with me."

"This isn't about that stupid lawsuit that guitar player filed
against Superman, is it? The case was dismissed."

He paused, and his silent frustration tumbled down the line. A
part of her -- a really, really big part -- wanted to reach out
and comfort him, but she ruthlessly shoved it away. There was no
way she'd put her heart in danger for him, no matter how
wonderful he was.

Finally he said, "I need to talk to you about a personal matter
that doesn't involve beginning or continuing a close personal
relationship between the two of us. Is that enough qualification
for you?"

It wasn't smart. It wasn't the right thing to do. It wouldn't
have any bearing on her decision to remain aloof from him. There
was no way for him to change her mind on the subject. It was best
that they not meet socially.

But before she knew it, she heard her mouth say, "All right,
Clark, we'll sit down and have this talk. When do you want to
get together?"

"How about breakfast at Callard's tomorrow morning at nine?
I'll meet you at your place and we can ride together in your
Jeep."

She almost said "no." Instead, she heard herself say, "Is this
a formal place? I'm not familiar with it."

"For breakfast on a weekend, it's business casual. You could
wear blouse and slacks and fit right in. Fashion-wise, at
least."

She almost smiled. It was a typical Clark-style sneaky and subtle
compliment, and it made her feel unaccountably pleased.

But he couldn't know that.

She forced her mouth into a firm line, then said, "That sounds
fine. I'll look for you tomorrow morning at what,
eight-thirty?"

"That works for me. See you then, Lois."

"Good-bye, Clark."

He hesitated, then softly said, "Good-bye."

The click in her ear told her that he'd hung up. She hated being
this way with him, hated keeping him at a distance, hated dousing
the light she saw in his eyes when he thought she wasn't
looking. But it was for his own good. She was sacrificing her own
happiness to keep him from being devastated when the relationship
blew up. She was denying her own heart in order to preserve his.
Why couldn't he see that?

And why did she have to remind herself so often that she was
making this sacrifice for him?

***

It was the first time he'd been to her apartment since before
the clone gangster fiasco. It hadn't changed much, and he
wasn't sure if he was glad or disappointed by that.

Then he remembered how uncomfortable her couch was, and he was
both amused and concerned. How could she entertain anyone with
that rock-hard lump of compressed stuffing? He had to admit that
it looked good, and with the rug it really pulled the room
together, but otherwise it was about as useful as a brick
stepladder.

It was three minutes before he was to leave with her. Three
minutes he might spend in her apartment. Three minutes in her
presence. Maybe the last three minutes he would spend with her
alone for the rest of his life.

The thought pained him, but not as much as it once would have.
She'd spent so many months pushing him away, building that
fortified wall between them, isolating herself from him, that it
was hard to remember when she'd smiled freely at him, when
she'd looked at him with gentle eyes and spoken with a breathy
tone that only he could hear.

A sudden memory washed over him.

It was his first week working at the Planet. They'd been trying
to decode Samuel Platt's notes and had taken a break. He'd sat
and looked at her, drinking in her beauty and fire and strength.
Her face had relaxed for just a moment, then she'd laid the
first stone of that wall between them.

<Don't fall for me, farm boy. I don't have time for it.>

At the time he'd assumed that she just wanted to keep him away
from her and out from under her feet, but as he thought about it
now he heard a different note in his mind. It was almost as if
she were telling herself not to let him get close to her, as if
she were trying to protect herself.

And it made a twisted, scary kind of sense.

She was afraid. Lois Lane, intrepid investigative reporter for
the Daily Planet, winner of three Kerth awards, was afraid to
lose her heart to him. Maybe she feared losing that edge that
made her such a great reporter. Maybe she was afraid of losing
herself in someone else. And maybe she was so afraid of being
hurt that she'd decided that the possibility of experiencing
pain was too frightening for her.

He sighed. If that were the case, then he certainly understood.
He didn't agree with her reasoning -- assuming that reacting in
such an extreme emotional manner could be called reasoning -- but
he could see her point. He didn't want to get hurt either.

And that's why they were having breakfast at Callard's.

Time was passing. Soon his last chance would be gone.

He lifted his hand and knocked.

***

Lois was startled by the knock at the door. She glanced at the
clock yet again and saw that it was eight twenty-eight, just two
minutes before Clark had said he would be here. He was never late
for social occasions, nor was he ever very early.

He was so wonderful about being on time that it was almost
maddening. Did he have a clock in his head or what?

She wondered again what the occasion was. He'd said it was a
personal matter that didn't involve a relationship with her, so
maybe he was going to ask for her advice on a matter of the
heart. Maybe he was going to tell her about a woman he'd met who
interested him. Maybe all he needed from Lois was her permission
to explore a long-term and possibly permanent relationship with
this woman. Of course, that was the only kind Clark would ever
consider. He just wasn't a one-night stand or weekend fling or
even a see-you-next-time kind of guy. If he told a woman that he
loved her it would be the truth, and he'd die before he'd turn
that into a lie.

And this was no time to start crying over her life choices. He
was better off without her, hands down, no questions asked, no
discussion possible. Lois Lane would not suffer the way her
mother had suffered and continued to suffer, even if Clark was
orders of magnitude a better man than her father.

She would not -- absolutely would not -- open herself to that
kind of hurt.

She was ready to go except for her shoes. On Clark's advice,
she'd chosen a conservative dark blue pantsuit with a jacket,
topped off with small earrings which lay flush against her
earlobes. Her hair was clean and brushed, but she hadn't done
anything special with it. She didn't want him complimenting her
on her appearance other than a perfunctory you-look-nice-today
mention.

She would keep her heart in line and not allow herself to say or
do anything stupid.

Maybe that source of his who'd called the other day would get in
touch with him at the restaurant. Then she'd have a legitimate
reason to end the meeting if it got too uncomfortable.

She unlocked her door and opened it. She opened her mouth to
invite him in.

And the phone rang.

"Hope that's not important," Clark said.

He shut the door as she walked over to the phone. "Maybe it's
that source of yours that called a few days ago. He wanted to
talk to you, thought you were here."

She stopped with her hand on the phone and looked at his face,
waiting for guilt or embarrassment or something that would let
her know that he was in on the gag. But all she saw was
puzzlement.

Clark had no idea what she was talking about.

She lifted the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello, Ms. Lane. May I speak to Clark Kent, please?"

It was the same voice. He sounded young and a little cocky, as if
he thought he knew something no one else did. Lois almost told
him that Clark wasn't there, but the thought that Clark might
read more into the statement than her irritation at her schedule
being disrupted stopped her.

She held the receiver out to Clark. "This guy wants to talk to
you."

"Me? How did he know I'd be here?"

It was a good question. They'd set up the date just last night
-- No! Not a date!

They'd agreed to meet for breakfast only last night. So how did
this character know Clark would be here now?

And why had he assumed that Clark was there a few days ago?

She handed the phone to Clark and thought back over the previous
call. The young man had sounded cocky then, too, and greatly
surprised when he'd asked for Clark and been told that he was
neither present nor expected. When Lois had suggested that the
man call Clark either at his home or the office in the morning,
he'd stammered and stuttered and hung up.

She'd forgotten about it until just now.

She turned to tell Clark what she remembered but stopped. His
face had gone slack and his entire body was taut. She tuned in to
his words.

"You what? No! You hurt them and -- what did you call me? No!
There's no way I'm going to -- you can't! I can't! When?
Now?" He paused, then said, "All right. Yes, fifteen minutes.
Of course."

He dropped the phone onto its cradle and leaned against the
wall.

Lois was almost scared for him. Clark Kent was the strongest man
she knew aside from Superman, yet here he was in her living room,
stunned beyond action. What had he--

Why did he remind her of Superman just now?

Then he turned and looked at her. His face was pale and his eyes
were filled with fear. "I -- Lois, I'm sorry -- I have to go.
Something happened -- I can't tell you -- I have to go!"

He headed for the door, but she braced herself and grabbed his
elbow. "Wait a minute! We're partners, Kent! We share the
credit and the danger. Tell me what's going on."

His voice was hollow and forced. "I -- I can't. I can't tell
you! He'll kill them if--"

She waited a moment, then pulled herself closer to him. "Who is
'he,' Clark? And who is he threatening? Someone close to
you?"

The flicker in his eyes told her that she was close. "He's
blackmailing you, isn't he? This clown is trying to force you to
do something you don't want to do, something bad. He just told
you to do something he knows you won't want to do and he's
threatening someone -- no, two or more someones -- to get you to
-- to -- oh, no!"

Clark tried to pull away. "Lois, please, don't say anything
else! Please let me go!"

Her voice lowered. "Your parents."

A bigger flinch told her she was right. "That's it, isn't it?
He's got your parents and he's threatened to kill them! What
does he want you to do?" She yanked on his elbow. "Tell me!"

The color was seeping back into his face, and his voice was
closer to normal. "You don't have to get involved in this. And
I'd rather not pull you in."

She slapped his chest with her free hand and regretted it.
Ignoring the sting, she snarled, "You're not getting this story
alone! Lane and Kent are still the hottest team in town and
we're going to bring this jackass to justice together!"

He relaxed and stood tall before her. The thought that she could
conquer the world with a man like this at her side flitted across
her mind.

Then he said, "All right, Lois, we'll do it your way." He
hesitated, then added, "One more time."

And with that cryptic remark, he told her what he was supposed to
do.

***

She couldn't believe it had come to this.

She'd covered for Clark with the police as he'd robbed Mazik's
jewelry store. She'd lied to Detective Zymak's face and given
him an alibi for the time of the theft. She'd helped him
research Jace Mazik and discovered Nigel St. John's involvement
in the conspiracy. And they'd worked together the whole time
like they'd never experienced a hiccup in their relationship.

And now the next call had come in.

Maybe the last call.

Mazik wanted her dead body. Or maybe Nigel St. John wanted her
dead. Ultimately it didn't matter. They wanted to trade Clark's
parents' lives for Lois' death.

And she knew he'd never agree to that.

"I want you to get out of town," he said. "Get on a plane, go
far away--"

"No."

She stopped for a moment, then realized that she'd spoken. Why?
What could she do to help--

Superman.

"What's the address?"

"Wh -- what address?"

"Where Mazik wants you to take my body! Where is it?"

"It's 448 South Howard, on the north side of Suicide Slum. Wait
-- you're not going there by yourself, are you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Find Superman, Clark. Get him to my
apartment as fast as you can. I'll meet him there."

"What? Lois, you can't--"

"Yes, I can!" She reined in her temper. "In fact, I need
to."

"But what can--"

"Just get him there! And you stay out of this!"

She grabbed her scarf and ran out of the conference room. It was
a wild idea, but maybe it would work.

It had to work. Or someone would have to update her obituary.

And that would totally suck.

***

>>> Chapter Four

She faced Superman and all but ordered him to do this her way.

"You know you can't let Clark's parents die! And I'm sure
Nigel has Kryptonite or he wouldn't let you know where he was!
If you show up without my body it'll be a bloodbath and you'll
be dead!"

He crossed his arms and glared at her. "What makes you think
this nutty scheme of yours will have a different outcome?"

If she could have punched him into agreement, she would have done
it. "Because -- because they won't expect it! They're looking
for Clark, not you! And they're expecting me to be dead! There
is no way on God's green earth that Clark would ever hurt me,
much less kill me -- even for his parents -- and they're too
stupid to see that. This is the best chance we have."

"It's dangerous, Lois! You could easily end up dead for
real."

"I can fake it. All I need is some makeup and a little Yi Chi
meditation and control and I'll be a corpse with a kick. We walk
in -- or, rather, you walk in carrying me like I'm dead, we get
close to them, you throw me on Mazik so I can put him down and
you take out Nigel, and Clark and I will write it up for the
Planet."

"Why don't I just zoom in there faster than either of them can
react and take them out?"

"Because Nigel St. John is sneaky and dirty and underhanded. It
wouldn't surprise me if he had some kind of dead-man switch that
would kill Clark's parents before you could stop it. I know
you're fast, but unless you know exactly what he's got set up,
you might not be fast enough. This way is better because we're
taking the initiative away from him. He won't expect that."

He shook his head at her. "You make it sound so simple."

"It is simple! That's why it'll work."

"Really? Do we have a plan 'B' if something goes wrong?"

"We don't need one. Look, give me three minutes to make myself
look pale and dead and we'll go."

"Uh-huh. You can make yourself look dead."

She all but sprinted to her bathroom. "I took some theater in
college, Superman. I thought it would help me when I went
undercover and it has. Didn't ever go on stage, but I learned
how to make people up and change their appearance. It'll hold up
unless someone rubs a finger across my face."

"I don't want to put you in danger, Lois."

"Tough tacos, Big Blue." She paused and turned to face him,
ignoring the tiny grin on his lips. "Just -- please do this my
way. I know it's a risk, but the only other thing I can think of
is for you to freeze me with your cold breath and I think that's
even worse. This way, there are two of us against two of them,
and we'll take them down together." She resumed putting on the
makeup. "Besides, I owe Clark big time."

She saw a puzzled superhero in her mirror. "Why do you owe
Clark?"

She didn't stop the makeup this time. The clock was ticking and
she needed to focus and not cry. "Because -- because I'm a
horrible person and I've been a complete jackass to him for
months. I'm terrified that we'll get involved and that he'll
hurt me even if he doesn't want to and I care about him too much
to lose him to a breakup so I've been pushing him away for
months and I -- I wish now that I hadn't."

Superman didn't speak. He just crossed his arms and leaned
against the door frame and slowly nodded as if digesting her
revelation.

"Look," she said, "I know I've acted like a love-sick puppy
around you at times, but I've grown up quite a bit over the last
few months. You and I could never be more than friends for more
reasons than I have time to list. But it's different between
Clark and me. I could love him so easily it scares me. And I
don't want him to go through this without doing something about
it."

She watched his mouth set itself in a hard line. Then he nodded.
"Okay. We'll do this your way."

"Good." She put away her makeup and turned to face him. "See?
Now I look like a fresh corpse. And we could have saved some time
if you'd just done what I told you to do right away."

The ghost of a smile played over his mouth again. "Of course,
Lois. How silly of me to object to you putting your life at
risk."

"Smart-aleck. Come on, we've got to go. Take me to 448 South
Howard. You know where that is?"

"Yes."

"Okay, listen. When you throw me at Mazik, you're going to have
to take out Nigel as fast as you can. His reflexes are like
lightning, and if you give him any chance at all he'll use the
Kryptonite on you."

"I know. I have a little surprise for him, too."

"Really? What surprise?"

He nodded. "A non-super-powered surprise. He won't be expecting
it from me."

She didn't bother asking again what that surprise was. "Good.
Pick me up like you're carrying my body."

She felt herself lifted from the floor. "Now watch. And don't
try to talk to me because I won't hear you. I'm going to go for
that Yi Chi light trance that will make me look dead."

"How will I bring you out of it?"

"Don't worry. I'll snap out of it when your throw me at
Mazik."

She hoped.

***

He lifted her and held her across his arms. It was the closest
they'd been to each other for weeks, and he couldn't help
enjoying the contact.

But the enjoyment didn't last. Her face went slack and her body
lost tension, and it startled him so much that he listened for
her heartbeat to make sure she hadn't actually died in his
arms.

There it was, down to about eighteen beats a minute, but steady.
And she was breathing, too, just very slow and shallow. If she
wasn't examined too closely, she'd convince them.

As he lifted into the air and slipped out the window, a little
voice in his head kept screaming, "Bad idea! Bad idea! Horrible
idea!"

Oh, yeah, he replied, you have a better one?

The voice shut up.

He landed in front of the decrepit house on South Howard with two
minutes to spare. A blast of super-breath opened the front door,
and a quick scan showed both Nigel and Jace in the basement. An
old book, probably the diary Jace had mentioned, was in Jace's
coat pocket, wrapped in a reusable plastic bag. A lead-lined
temporary room to one side probably held his parents, and a shelf
behind Jace was home to an ornate bottle, probably some expensive
liquor held in reserve as a toast to their joint success.

He also saw a small pistol in Nigel's right hand and a small
lead box in his left.

This was going to be tricky.

There was what looked like a waist-high table built with concrete
blocks and a wooden panel laid flat on top between the bottom of
the stairs and the far corner of the room where the two men were
standing. He knew they'd heard him enter, and as he walked
toward the stairs he watched their faces through the floor. Nigel
was determined and alert, but also seemed to be fighting a smile,
probably anticipating seeing Lois dead. Jace was almost manic,
bouncing on his toes and grinning like a possum.

He hoped they were in for a very unpleasant surprise.

As he came into their sight, Jace actually giggled. "You did it.
You really did it! Nigel didn't think you would but you did!
Wow! What did you do to her? How'd you whack her?"

Nigel cleared his throat. "Superman, please put Ms. Lane's body
over here."

He stopped about ten feet from them. "Why? Are you going to make
this her funeral pyre?"

"Does it truly matter? Please, place her on this structure."

He walked slowly toward the makeshift altar. "You both know that
you won't get away with this."

Jace rubbed his hands together. "That's what all the good guys
say. And yet, here we are, the four of us -- oh, I'm sorry, the
three of us."

He was almost there. "I don't make threats, Mazik."

Nigel lifted the lead box. "Be that as it may, please do as--"

It had to be now.

He tossed Lois at Jace's face and saw her eyes snap open. She
twisted in mid-air and hit him in the face with her elbow and
they both went down in a heap with Jace trying to ward off the
blows Lois was raining down on him.

He lunged at Nigel.

Nigel was ready for him.

The box snapped open and the green poison hit him like a club.
His momentum carried him into Nigel's body and made him drop the
box, but it didn't close and Nigel didn't fall.

Superman thumped to the floor chest-first. Nigel stumbled away
and lifted his pistol and fired twice, but not at Superman.
Someone cried out in pain.

Despite his own torment, Superman reached around to his back --
under his cape -- and pulled out a Taser and shot Nigel with it.

As the electricity surged through his body, Nigel's teeth
clamped shut and he stood in place grunting as loudly as he
could. When Superman released the trigger, Nigel fell to the
floor in a limp heap of expensive clothing and dropped his
pistol. Superman crawled to the lead box and managed to close
it.

As soon as the box snapped shut, his pain was gone. He climbed to
his feet and put the box on the other side of the room from
Nigel, then walked over, grabbed the man's pistol away from his
fumbling fingers, and tucked it into his waistband. Nigel's eyes
glared hate up at him and Superman smirked back. "Sorry, old
man. Worse luck next time."

Then he looked across the room.

Mazik was lying on his stomach, his face turned to one side, with
a bloody nose and open eyes staring at nothing. A small hole in
his forehead told the story.

Jace Mazik was dead, killed by Nigel St. John.

Lois groaned and tried to straighten out. Superman strode to her
side and bent down to help her up, but she cried out as he put
his hand on her elbow. "No! Don't pull -- I'm hit."

She lifted her hand away from her abdomen. It was covered with
blood.

Her blood.

A lot of her blood.

He didn't think he'd ever flown that fast with a passenger.

***

Clark sat in the emergency room waiting area, staring at but not
seeing a wildlife documentary playing on the TV. He'd already
had word that his parents were generally okay, but his father was
being kept overnight for observation and his mother refused to
leave his side. The nurses had shooed him out of the room to
allow the older Kents to get some sleep, and they had even
brought in a cot for Martha to use. Very much against
regulations, one nurse explained as she set up the cot. Totally
not allowed, another one added as she unfolded the sheets for
Martha.

Jace Mazik was in the morgue, waiting for transport to the
coroner's office. Nigel St. John had taken advantage of Clark's
preoccupation with freeing his parents and getting Lois to the
hospital. He'd pulled out the Taser's leads, grabbed the bottle
of bourbon from the shelf and the lead box from the floor, and
wiggled out through one of the basement windows.

He'd been found three blocks away, dead. The theory Bill
Henderson came up with was that the bourbon was for a celebratory
toast after killing Superman, but that someone -- almost surely
Jace -- had poisoned it. Preliminary tests had found that it was
the same poison used to kill Jace's father four years before.
Nigel must have taken a drink to settle his nerves, or perhaps to
celebrate his escape, and had accidentally killed himself.

Henderson had come to the waiting room and given the lead box to
Clark, saying that it wasn't evidence and looked like someone's
private property. He'd also avoided making eye contact with
Clark as he did so. Instead of brooding over just how much Bill
Henderson knew or suspected, Clark had taken the box out of the
atmosphere and thrown it into a decaying cometary orbit. In a few
days it would vaporize in the sun's outer atmosphere with no
sign that it had ever existed.

Henderson had also stayed for a few minutes, had asked Clark how
Lois' surgery was going, had expressed his relief that Clark's
parents were well, and then had given Clark his card with his
home phone number written in ink on the back along with an
admonition to call if he needed anything.

It was over.

Now all Clark had to do was wait for word on Lois.

He'd called in the story under their joint byline. Perry and
Jimmy and Eduardo and Sharon McClure had all dropped by to check
on both of them. Sharon had offered to stay with him, but Clark
felt like he needed to be alone to process all that had happened.
The police had all the information he could give them.

Except the diary and its contents.

He'd lifted the diary from Jace's pocket after he'd come back
to free his parents and found Nigel missing. Why Nigel hadn't
taken it would forever remain a mystery, unless he feared being
caught while searching for it. Or perhaps Nigel hadn't known
where Jace had hidden it. Maybe Nigel didn't think he needed
it.

Whatever the reason, Clark now held the book in his hands and
wondered how much of it he should actually believe.

This Tempus character was a real doozy, assuming he was a real
person. If not for the uncanny accuracy of the assertions in the
book -- at least, up to the incident of the cloned gangsters at
Georgie Hairdo's club, after which the narrative diverged
significantly from the recent past -- and the fact that Tempus
had known Clark's dual identity, he wouldn't believe a word of
it.

Yet he had to. Somehow he and Lois had inspired -- or would
inspire -- people in the future to build a Utopian society with
Superman's ideals driving its development. H. G. Wells had
visited that future and come back with Tempus, then somehow
dropped him off in Smallville in 1866 and had him committed to an
insane asylum. If Tempus had told his story to the authorities
then and there, putting him away would have been a slam dunk.

Now he had to figure out what to do with the information.

There was no mention in the book about Lois getting shot or about
her dying young. But maybe time wasn't fixed like a mural, but
was fluid like a wind-blown Zen garden. A random act or a
seemingly insignificant choice could have repercussions
throughout history.

A nurse had come out once already to tell him that Lois was doing
well, that they'd removed the bullet, and were about to begin
repairing the internal damage. She had seemed optimistic, but
surgical nurses always seemed to give patients' loved ones the
best-case scenario.

He put the diary back in its plastic cover and slipped it inside
his sweater. It would keep until later.

***

Lois slowly became aware of her surroundings.

The first thing she heard was a big, burly guy near her bed who
kept yelling, "Breathe! You have to breathe, okay? You want to
go home, don't you?"

She moved her mouth and realized that there was a plastic tube in
it. She tried to push it out with her tongue, but it didn't
budge. And when she tried to speak, nothing came out.

The burly guy stood and grabbed her hand before it got to her
face. "Easy, ma'am. Don't try to talk. You have a breathing
tube in your throat. The doctor will be here soon to take it
out."

She blinked and the guy disappeared. Must have been a long blink,
she mused.

Then a short, freckled, perky redheaded girl leaned over her.
"Ms. Lane? You're awake! Good. If you have any pain, blink
twice, okay? Blink twice for pain and once if you don't feel
any."

Lois blinked once and thought that her eyes were all but
paralyzed. It seemed to take minutes for them to open again, but
the little redhead was still there, bright-eyed and smiling down
at her.

"Good! The doctor will be in here -- oh, here he is now. Doctor
Richards, Ms. Lane is awake and responsive."

A tall, slender black man loomed over her. "Excellent," he
intoned. "Do you think you're ready to breathe on your own now?
Blink twice for yes and once for no."

Lois blinked twice and thought that her eyes moved a little
faster that time. And she thought she could hear the clicks and
beeps of other medical machines in the background.

"Okay, Ms. Lane," the doctor said, "we're going to take the
tube out. You'll feel some discomfort for a moment. You'll
probably be thirsty, but all we can give you for now is a damp
cloth to chew. In a little while we'll give you some ice chips.
Are you ready?"

Lois blinked twice more.

"Okay, nurse, let's do this. You steady the patient and I'll
pull. One, two, three!"

The little redhead held Lois' head, the doctor put his hands on
the tube and counted to three, and the tube slipped out. Lois
thought she'd choked on a sword and started coughing. The nurse
turned her head to one side and held a small basin under her
mouth.

Before she could ask what the basin was for, the nurse took it
away and gave her the wet cloth. "Here you go. Don't try to
talk for a few minutes. Your throat is really dry and we don't
want you to cough any more than you have to."

Lois lifted her hand and tried to draw a question mark in the
air.

The nurse frowned slightly. "You don't remember why you're
here?"

Lois started to blink, then her memories cascaded back.

Nigel and Jace.

Clark's parents in danger.

Kryptonite.

Had she self-induced a Yi Chi trance?

Had she been shot?

It was all jumbled up in her head.

She felt her eyes bulge. She croaked, "Clark!" before her
throat closed up again and she began coughing.

This time it didn't stop.

And this time her belly hurt like fire and acid.

She heard Doctor Richards yell for a gurney. She felt herself
being lifted onto it. She felt time slow down as her vision
clouded again.

She hoped Clark would understand if she di--

***

"No, Mr. Kent. We took out the breathing tube and she said your
name and started coughing and then started bleeding internally
again. We think the coughing pulled her internal stiches loose.
Doctor Richards is working on her now and he's the best trauma
surgeon we have. If anyone can pull her through this, he can."

He fell back into his chair and dropped his face into his hands.
"I -- I can't lose her. I just can't!"

The nurse sat down beside him. "Mr. Kent, I assure you that
we're doing all we can. Everything that can be done for her is
being done."

He felt her arm reach across his shoulders and her other hand
touch his wrist. "Do you want me to call anyone for you?"

He shook his head.

"How about if I pray with you?"

He lifted his eyes to her. "Pray?"

She nodded. "Sometimes the Lord does things we don't
understand. Sometimes He allows things we don't think He should
allow. And sometimes things happen because He wants us to
remember who He is." She patted his wrist. "Do you mind if I
pray? Or would you rather I call the chaplain?"

"I -- I don't know."

She smiled softly. "Let me give it a shot."

He nodded. "Do I -- should I kneel or something?"

"Not unless you want to. I was going to sit here and talk."

He nodded again. And as small as she was compared to him, he felt
as if she were enveloping him with her embrace.

"Father," she said, "this man is hurting bad. You know it.
Please, please give him grace to see this through. Give him what
he needs to face whatever You have in store for him. We know that
bad things happen to people all the time, and we don't think
they deserve them. But You know what's really going on. You know
what's best. You know how You're going to use this to make
things better down the road, even if we don't have any idea how
that might happen. Father, please take care of this man's lady.
Please bring her back to him healthy and sound. Please mend her
body and their hearts. And let them remember You in the times of
Your blessing. In Jesus' name, amen."

Clark lifted damp eyes to her. "Thank you," he whispered. "I
-- thank you."

"You're welcome, Mr. Kent. Now I need to get back in there and
help. You just hang on, okay? I think things are going to turn
out for the best."

He nodded weakly. "Is that a promise?"

Her face crinkled and he thought she was about to cry. "I can't
promise anything, Mr. Kent, except that life comes with pain
built-in. The most important thing is how we react to it." She
stood beside him. "We're doing our best. So is Ms. Lane. Now
you have to do your best."

She took a deep breath, then strode purposefully through the
automatic doors leading to Lois' operating room.

Clark watched her go, his mind still in turmoil but his heart
strangely calmer. Whatever happened, he'd bear it, as long as
Lois was there with him. With her in his life he could face
anything.

He sighed, resigning himself to his future. So much for Superman
leaving town now.

***

>>> Chapter Five

The young, athletic, blonde home care nurse with the unlikely
name of Buffy bustled around Lois' living room, shifting this
and moving that and generally making Lois tired just from
watching her. But when the girl finally stopped moving and smiled
at her patient, the room somehow looked better, with everything
Lois might need within easy reach of the hospital bed in the
middle of her apartment's living room.

"Okay, Ms. Lane, I think we're ready for you to be alone for a
while today. There's your water bottle, a basket of healthy
snacks -- they taste better than they sound -- a pee bottle, your
walker -- which you have to use if you get out of bed and I mean
it -- your cordless home phone, your cell phone, TV remote, all
on the end table to your right, and the bed controller is right
beside your left leg. If you have any questions, or if you need
me to come back, don't hesitate to call my mobile number! It's
at the top of your speed-dial list. And I mean that, too. I
won't have you strain yourself or hurt yourself on my watch."

Lois leaned back against the raised head of the bed. "Thanks,
Buffy. I think that's everything."

"Not quite. I also laid out two changes of underwear and three
sets of sweats on your bed. And if you start bleeding around your
sutures again, call me! Even if it's just a little bit. Don't
try to change the bandage by yourself. You know what Doctor
Richards said."

"I remember."

"Oh, I almost forgot! This wheeled tray on the left side has
your laptop -- fully charged and the power supply plugged into
the extension outlet on the cart -- three blank notebooks, two
dozen sharpened pencils, your dictionary and thesaurus on the
second shelf, and a brand-new remote keyboard and mouse with a
lap desk. Also your hairbrush, makeup bag, and a new hand
mirror."

Lois grinned. "For all you do, you should get paid more."

Buffy smiled back. "Remember you said that when my bill comes
due." She picked up her windbreaker. "I'll be back in about
four hours or so. You want anything special for dinner?"

"How about a big pizza with everything on it?"

The blonde frowned. "How about 'no?' Your tummy isn't
anywhere near ready for that much acid."

Lois' face fell. "Will it ever be?"

Buffy sat on the end of the bed. "I don't know, Ms. Lane. Dr.
Richards told you that the damage to your liver was extensive.
It's only been nine days since you got shot, and you're doing
very well just to be breathing."

"I don't know if breathing is enough for me."

The girl sighed. "Ms. Lane, you're alive. You're recovering
from a near-fatal gunshot wound. It's going to take some time to
get back on your feet."

Lois looked away. "Dr. Richards said I probably won't ever be a
hundred percent again. Not like I was before."

"You mean when people were trying to blow you up or shoot you or
drop you in boiling liquid or strangle you or throw you off tall
buildings? A hundred percent like that?"

"Ah, the good old days."

Buffy chuckled and Lois forced a small grin. "Look, everyone
loses something in painful life experiences. But we also gain
something. You've gained a wonderful cook and caretaker.
And--"

"You certainly think highly of yourself."

"No, not me! I mean that good-looking Mr. Kent." The girl
leaned forward and lowered her voice as if trying to keep the
kitchen from hearing her. "If he were the reward, I think I'd
risk getting myself shot. Hey, he's coming over again tonight,
isn't he?"

"If he doesn't have to work, yes."

"Great! He and I will do rock-paper-scissors to see who makes
the soup and sandwiches. Who knows, I may just let him win." She
dropped a big wink at Lois. "I do enjoy being served dinner by
such a handsome man."

If Lois hadn't feared popping her stitches she would have burst
out laughing.

***

She couldn't believe the emails she'd gotten. Her inbox was
full and she needed to delete some of them, but going through
each one would be a trial. Maybe Clark would help her when he
came over.

Then one caught her eye.

She opened it and realized that it was a form notice. Another
rejection notice from another publisher telling her that her book
idea wasn't bad but wasn't what they--

Wait a minute.

This wasn't a rejection.

It -- it was an acceptance form!

They -- they wanted to publish a book by Lois Lane!

It was the same company, Putnam, who published those alphabet
mysteries by Sue Grafton. The acquisitions editor -- scroll,
scroll, where was his name? Theresa Franklin. Okay, her name. Ms.
Franklin liked Lois' book proposal and the excerpt she'd sent
and wanted to see more of her Wanda Detroit novel! And even more
interesting, she hoped that Wanda would become a series
character! They sold better, apparently, and Ms. Franklin wanted
to know if Lois had outlined the sequel yet.

She sat there, stunned, while the import of the email washed over
her. If this worked out, she wouldn't have to go back to the
Planet as a desk-bound copy editor or move to rewrite or do
something else orders of magnitude less satisfying than
investigative reporting. She could parlay this into non-fiction
books, too, writing about Lex Luthor -- whose complete story
still had not been told in a coherent manner, despite the badly
informed efforts of a dozen amateurs -- or about other career
criminals and how they were brought to justice.

And another idea blossomed in her mind, one that she'd been
playing with off and on for a couple of years.

There was no shortage of tell-all books about athletes and their
drug/alcohol/lifestyle problems, but there was very little
information presented to the public about their spouses and
children after their falls from public grace. Often the fans
would rail at an athlete who'd destroyed his (or occasionally
her) career with excess and self-indulgence, but seldom would the
story remain in the public eye long enough for the fates of the
families to be published. There were divorces, of course, and
children who seldom saw their absent parents very often, if at
all, and many times the athlete would not maintain the child
support or alimony ordered by the courts, preferring to blow it
on partying and hiding from legal obligations.

People needed to know the human cost of such behavior.

She could expand it -- no, make it a separate volume -- and write
about entertainers who had done the same kinds of things. There
would be even more tales of abandonment, betrayal, lies,
deception, and the public would eat it up. Maybe she could
interview John Lennon's first wife Cynthia and let her tell her
side of the story of their marriage, what really happened with
Yoko Ono. The best part about the whole idea, though, was that
Lois could continue to campaign for truth and justice in her own
way.

Truth and justice. That reminded her of Superman.

She hadn't spoken directly to him since the day they'd
confronted Jace Mazik and Nigel St. John. Clark had delivered a
couple of messages to him from Lois and brought one back from
him, but the Man of Steel hadn't come by himself. Poor thing,
she thought, he probably blames himself for me getting hurt.
She'd have to tell him emphatically that this was totally her
own fault for pulling that stunt with the Yi Chi trance. She also
wanted to tell him that if he hadn't brought that Taser with him
and used it on Nigel when he did, they'd both be dead.

But that was a task for later. Right now she needed to reply to
this email.

***

It was Saturday morning and Clark stood in front of Lois'
apartment door and raised his hand to knock.

Then he hesitated. He didn't want to do this.

But he had to. It was past time for him to move on.

It was eight weeks to the day since the shooting. Lois was mostly
recovered now, although she hadn't gone back to the office yet.
Perry had advised Clark to talk to her about it and get a feel
for her future plans. The editor's odd manner hinted that he
already knew a great deal about Lois' plans and didn't want to
tell Clark about them himself.

Or, maybe Perry just wanted him to talk to Lois. He'd kept in
touch with her by phone over the last six weeks, and on occasion
he'd brought care packages of food and research materials and
writing supplies to her. But he hadn't taken the time to sit
down and talk with her. Nor had he asked her about the comments
she'd made to Superman as she was getting ready for the grand
deception to rescue his parents.

He didn't think he could take it when she told him once again
that she refused to consider a long-term relationship between
them.

So here he was, carrying today's copies of the Daily Planet,
Metropolis Star, Los Angeles Times, Chicago Tribune, Phoenix
Herald, and Denver Post, along with the latest copies of Newsweek
and The Atlantic Monthly. They were all publications carrying the
byline of Lois Lane, syndicated columnist, and he wanted to prove
to her that he was thrilled at her success and more than a little
proud of her. And he knew that she'd earned that success, even
if Perry had called in a few favors to get her work in the hands
of the feature editors of those publications. Even the Chief
didn't have enough juice to create a career for her if her work
weren't up to snuff.

He also wanted her to autograph each one for his parents. They
were also thrilled for her, probably more than her own parents
were.

He also intended to tell her that he'd decided to leave
Metropolis.

Perry had listened to him, listened to his reasons, heard him out
as he laid out his heart and crushed hopes for him and Lois, and
refused to accept his resignation letter. "Not until you talk to
Lois," he'd said. In fact, he'd said it eight times. That's
how many times Clark had tried to hand over his letter.

Clark finally shrugged and agreed. He'd talk to Lois and then
give Perry his official resignation.

"If you still want to," Perry had said.

Hence the trip to Lois' front door.

He might as well get it over with.

But his hand held back. He and Lois had never addressed her
semi-confession to Superman about her feelings for him as they
had prepared to face Nigel and Jace. He'd thought about writing
her a letter, but if he was wrong about how she felt about him
there was no way to take it back or alter what he said. He'd
almost brought it up on one of his visits to her, but he was
afraid that she'd think he was offering himself to her out of
pity. He'd waited for her to mention it to him, but despite
several long and thoughtful pauses in their conversations, she
hadn't alluded to it.

He's painted himself into a corner, and the only way to get out
was to break through the wall and escape. It was the last time
he'd suffer in her presence.

He commanded his knuckles to whack on the door and they finally
obeyed.

***

The knock on Lois' door surprised her. She wasn't expecting
company and wasn't dressed for it, but rather than turn away a
visitor, she decided that said visitor had willingly risked
seeing her in sweats and fuzzy bunny slippers. If whoever it was
expected a formal reception, someone was destined to be deeply
disappointed.

"Hang on, I'm coming!" She thumbed the 'save document'
command on her computer and stood, something that was finally
getting easy for her again. As long as she didn't enter any
long-distance races or weight-lifting competitions, she felt
fine.

She opened the door and Clark stood there looking wonderful.

It took her a moment to remember to inhale so she could speak.
"Ah -- hi. I -- I'm sorry. Come in, Clark. Please."

He slipped in on cat feet and looked around as if waiting for a
mad dog to start chasing him. "Hi, Lois. The place looks good
again now that the big bed is gone. I don't want to take up much
of your time, but I hoped you'd have a chance to autograph these
newspapers for me. For my parents, I mean. They're really
thrilled that you're getting published so widely."

She smiled and took the stack of documents. "I'll call them
this evening and thank them. I assume you're taking these the
next time you go visit?"

"Yes. In fact, that's one of the things I wanted to talk to you
about. If I'm not interrupting you, that is."

"It's okay. I'm due for a break anyway." She walked to her
desk and laid the stack down beside a small pile of travel books.
"I've heard some good things about you from Jimmy and Perry.
And Bobby Bigmouth has called a couple of times to bring me up to
speed about you. I understand that you and Sharon McClure went
out to dinner last week. How did it go?"

His mouth fell open for a moment. "You heard about that?"

She grinned. "Blame Bobby. He's my source on that tidbit.
So?"

"What? 'So' what?"

"How was your dinner with Sharon?"

"Oh. Um, it was okay, I guess. She said -- wait. No, it's okay,
I can tell you."

"Ooh. Mysterious much?"

He almost smiled. "Not now. The memo went out today. She's
moving out to Central City to work in the district attorney's
office. Seems some guy calling himself the Flash is running
around like a manic vigilante, dropping criminals off at police
precincts left and right. They need more people to handle the
increased volume of criminal cases, and she decided to help them
out."

"I'm sure they're lucky to have her. And what about you,
Mister New Partner Kent?"

This time he looked mildly exasperated. "You don't miss a
single tidbit of gossip, do you?"

"Gossip? I was asking about your new partner. Her name's Karen,
isn't it?"

He sighed. "Yes. Karen DeLong, rookie reporter with lots of
street smarts and ambition. She's got a lot of rough edges, but
she also has a lot of potential."

"Didn't you list her as a contributor to that story on
Lieutenant Governor Liedecker a couple of weeks ago?"

"Yes. We staked out Liedecker at his girlfriend's house
upstate. Jimmy found out he was passing information on
construction bids to her, and she was giving them to her brother
in the mob. Karen and I got him red-handed on both that and
cheating on his wife."

"Didn't he claim not to know that she was related to a
mobster?"

"He did. I don't know anyone who believes him."

"Good work. When is your next stakeout with Karen?"

He grimaced. "Second Thursday of next week, I hope."

"What? Why? Is she that boring?"

"Oh, no, she's a fount of information, both personal and
trivial. She minored in economics at Ohio State, played a year of
women's pro basketball in France before the league folded, plays
the tiple for relaxation--"

"Wait, what's a -- a tiple?"

Clark sighed. "The tiple is a Central or South American stringed
instrument with twelve strings in four groupings of three,
sometimes referred to as courses. Karen prefers to tune hers like
the four upper strings of a guitar, D-G-B-E, which is considered
the 'modern' tuning. All of the trios of strings except the
highest have the middle string tuned an octave higher than the
inner and outer strings, giving it a wider range of sonic
palettes. It can be strummed or picked, and is often used in
Latin groups like a mandolin is used in traditional American
country or bluegrass music. Karen prefers the Columbian style
instrument rather than any of the Puerto Rican -- what's so
funny?"

"Ha-ha-ha! How many times has she told you all that?"

"I've lost count. Karen is bright, hard-working, enthusiastic,
willing to take direction, attentive, very intelligent, but I
cannot for any amount of money or level of threat get her to shut
up!"

She wrapped her arms around her stomach and laughed as hard as
she dared. After a moment he chuckled and said, "Yeah, I guess
I'm a little sensitive about that subject. Hey, how are you
keeping yourself busy? I know you're doing your syndicated
column, but what else have you got going?"

"Quite a bit. I was editing the chapter I've been working on
this week when you knocked."

"Chapter?"

Her head tilted to one side. "No one's told you?"

"Told me about what?"

"My book deal with Putnam. In addition to the Wanda Detroit
mystery I just sent to Teresa -- she's their acquisitions editor
-- I'm doing a brief history of my career so far, with emphasis
both on the bad guys I've helped bust and the people who have
done so much to help me bust them. Perry and Jimmy are both in
it, Eduardo, Cat, Ralph, and Eddie, and my network of snitches --
under assumed names, of course -- and you figure prominently
too."

He smiled at her. First real smile she'd seen from him for
weeks. Maybe months. "I do?"

"Of course, Clark. Without you I'd be dead."

His smile fled like a rabbit from a coyote. "Without me you
might not have been shot, either."

"Clark, you mustn't take all -- sit down with me." She took
his hand and guided him to her couch, then tugged on his hand
until he sat beside her. "Don't be ridiculous. That was my
choice and mine alone. I had to practically threaten Superman to
get him to agree. But you already knew that, of course."

"Well, yeah. I'm still really sorry it happened."

"Believe me, so am I. This is not a dietary method I endorse."

They shared a brief smile. "I understand. You sure sound like
you're keeping busy, Lois. The columns, the book deal, your job
at the Planet -- uh, you are going back, aren't you?"

She shook her head. "Not full-time, and not as an investigator.
I'm on partial disability from the paper now. I don't have the
strength or the stamina for those seventy-hour weeks any more. In
fact, my doctor threatened to chain me to my bed if I tried to go
back full-time."

He looked stricken. "What? Oh, no, Lois! I had no idea you --
that it -- I didn't know!"

He looked like he was about to bolt, so she took both of his
hands in hers. "Of course you didn't. I didn't tell you. And
before you ask, I have my reasons."

He hesitated, then asked, "Would you share them with me?"

"Of course. No secrets, Clark. Not anymore." She released his
hands and leaned back. "First of all, you didn't comment on my
new couch."

"Your new -- oh, right, it really is more comfortable." He
shifted on the cushion and nodded. "Hey, that's a lot better
than your old one. Looks just as good, too."

"It needs to be. I'm going to be spending a lot more time on
it."

He frowned slightly. "I don't understand."

She sighed and looked away. "That bullet -- it hit me in the
liver, Clark. Tore it up pretty badly. Oh, what I have left works
well enough for a normal life as long as I don't exert myself
too much and stay on a fairly restricted diet. You know, low
acids, reduce my sugar intake, no alcohol, cut way back on
caffeine, watch my portions, get plenty of sleep, try not to get
threatened by bad guys trying to take out Superman, that kind of
thing."

She watched his face out of the corner of her eyes as she came to
the end of her list and noticed a flash of humor in his eyes.
That was a good thing. Maybe this would work after all, even if
this wasn't anywhere near the way she'd envisioned telling
him.

Her gaze dropped. "Anyway, I'm about fifteen pounds under the
weight my doctor thinks I should carry, but I'm going to sneak
up on it so I don't overshoot and get fat, which would be just
as bad for what's left of my liver if not worse. And I'm going
to be working from home a lot, even when I get well enough to
travel regularly. I'll live a normal life, but I won't be able
to be an investigative reporter any more. It's just too much for
me now."

She turned back to look directly at him and was surprised at how
pale he'd become. His mouth moved but no sound came out, and she
knew he was blaming himself for destroying her career and her
health.

"Clark Kent!" she snarled. "This is not your responsibility or
your fault! I've always known something like this could happen
to me. Why, just since you've known me, I've been almost blown
up, nearly drowned, almost dropped in boiling acid, shot at more
than once, strangled almost to death, and worst of all, nearly
married Lex Luthor!"

Her voice softened and she tried to smile. "And every time I
jumped in the deep end of the pool without checking the water
level, Clark, you've been there to pull me out and help me get
through it."

Some color was coming back to his features, and she thought he'd
missed what she'd said about him saving her. Then his face
hardened and his voice came out flat. "Some people might say
that I'm a jinx for you, that I brought all that down on you."

"Then they're stupid! And you'd better not use that as part of
your excuse for leaving town because I won't put up with it!"

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Leaving town -- Did Perry call
you this morning?"

"No, but you're not hard to figure out. When I went to
Smallville with you that first time, one of the ladies told me
that with you, what you see is what you get. And for the most
part she was right. You don't lie, Clark, except for your one
big secret, and I understand why you're keeping that one. But
you are who you are, no matter where you are or who you're with.
You don't change personalities to fit in or gain an
advantage."

"You don't either."

He had to be upset. He'd missed her reference to his 'one big
secret.'

"No, but I make people mad by being myself. You make them
comfortable and they tell you things I'd have to pry out of
them. That's part of what makes you a great reporter. And you
mustn't walk away from that."

"That's not what I'm walking away from."

"I know that!" She jumped to her feet and immediately regretted
it. The scar tissue in her abdomen caught and pulled and the
sudden sharp pain bent her nearly double.

Before she registered it, she was in his arms with her feet off
the floor. "Lois! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! What can I do? How
can I help?"

Between gritted teeth, she whispered, "Just -- just help me --
sit down, please. It will pass in -- in a minute."

She felt herself drift down like a feather until she knew he was
sitting on the couch again, holding her in his lap as if she were
Dresden china. The pain eased away and she slowly relaxed.

When she opened her eyes, she saw tears in his.

"No, Clark, don't cry. It's not your fault. I just moved too
fast. That's one of the things that will take some time to heal.
You didn't do anything."

He blinked and dripped a tear on her shoulder. "I -- it hurts me
so much when I see you in pain. I can't stand it."

"It would hurt me a lot worse if you left Metropolis. Please
don't go."

His face contorted and he sucked in a breath. He looked like
she'd just asked him to choose between two particularly painful
tortures.

She couldn't let him leave like this.

No. She couldn't let him leave at all. She had to tell him what
was in her heart.

"Clark, I--"

"Lois, I have to go. I have to leave Metropolis. That's what I
really came here to tell you this morning."

***

>>> Chapter Six

It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, the most difficult
thing he'd ever said to anyone. But if he didn't say it now, he
might never be able to say it.

She all but whispered, "Clark, I--"

Just blurt it out! he ordered himself.

"Lois, I have to go. I have to leave Metropolis. That's what I
really came here to tell you this morning."

For a moment Clark thought he'd twisted her or shifted her
wrong. Her face paled and she held her breath as he hesitated,
then rushed on. "I -- I know you don't want to hear this but I
have to tell you one last time that I love you and I don't want
to go out with anyone else or date anyone else and I can't take
it being her so close to you without being able to talk to you or
get you coffee or doughnuts or have breakfast with you or -- I
just can't!"

She almost smiled. "And you tell me I babble."

"You do." He took a deep, shuddering breath and held it for a
moment before letting it out slowly. "I can choose to stay here
and continue hurting just from being around you or I can choose
to accept that whatever we might have had will never be and
leave. I choose to leave."

She reached up and touched his cheek. "You don't have to
leave."

"Yes I do!" As gently as he could, he shifted her back onto the
couch until only her hand was touching his wrist. "It will be
like I had an amputation. The pain will stop quickly and leave a
shock of loss in place. But that will fade over time as long as I
don't see you every day or hear your voice or watch you smile.
You'll leave a hole in my heart when I go, Lois, but I'll live,
and I'll learn to plaster over the hole somehow."

She shook her head. "Even if you leave Metropolis, you could fly
back as often as you wanted to. And I want you to."

"Airfare is expensive."

She turned her head slightly but still looked into his eyes.
"Not for you."

"What?"

He was genuinely confused. What was she talking about? Who flew
without--

Oh.

She was saying--

Wait. She'd mentioned his "one big secret" a minute ago.

She said he'd already known that she'd all but threatened
Superman to get him to go along with her nutty plan, despite
never having discussed it with him. With "Clark" him.

She knew.

He sat back and covered his face with his hands. "How long have
you known? And how did you figure it out?"

"About a month, I guess. And it wasn't hard once I had time to
put my mind to it."

"Oh, good, it wasn't hard."

"Clark?" she whispered. "Please listen. You were never in the
same place as Superman, you both decided to leave during that
artificial heat wave, you're both honest and upright and
terribly worried about doing the right thing, the way Mazik went
after you -- Clark -- using your parents to force you -- Superman
-- to commit crimes for him, your horrible excuses to disappear,
and all the time I've had to think about this, well -- it all
came together for me. I spent almost a week trying to prove
myself wrong and I couldn't."

His flat answer took more effort than lifting a mountain. "I
see."

"Don't worry, okay? The only reason I figured it out is because
we're around each other so much and because I know you so very
well."

"Yeah. That's a comfort."

"It was supposed to be. I doubt anyone else has any idea. Except
Perry. Maybe."

"Thanks. Really." He lowered his hands and looked at her. "How
mad are you?"

"At you? Almost not at all. At myself? Furious."

That was interesting. And confusing.

"Would you expound upon both of those statements, preferably in
the order that you made them? Just so I can keep everything
straight."

Instead of giving him back a barbed comment, she dropped her eyes
to the floor. "I'm not mad at you. Why should I be? Ever since
you got shot at Georgie Hairdo's, I've been pushing you away
any time you got closer than six feet." Her face lifted to his.
"But I'm still a little mad at you for letting me think you
were dead. That was a pretty rotten thing to do."

He sighed. "I know. And you're right, it was. The truth is,
though, that I didn't realize how strongly you cared about me at
the time. If I'd had any idea, I would've come to you later
that night to ask for your help in bringing me back to life." He
turned on the couch to face her. "And that speech you gave me
when you took me home that night after I pulled you out of the
concrete really tore me up."

She held his gaze for a long moment, then exhaled and deflated at
the same time. "I know. It tore me up, too. And you had no
reason to trust me with the secret after that. Before then you
didn't know how I felt, and before that, of course, I was mixed
up with Lex, and you couldn't risk it then, and before that all
I was looking for was my next byline. You didn't know how I'd
react if I knew, if I'd print it or sell it or blackmail you
with it. I might have seen that as my ticket to a Pulitzer, and
even if I hadn't published it, I might have accidentally leaked
it to Lex or someone almost as bad, and that would've been a
total disaster all around."

He nodded. "That actually sounds more than fair, Lois. Thank
you."

She shrugged. "You're welcome."

He thought about taking her hand in his, but decided that there
were still things which needed to be said and he didn't want to
distract either of them just yet. "Can you tell me why you're
mad at yourself?"

"Furious, Clark. Not just mad, but furious. Get it right."

His mouth curled up on one side. "Okay. Why are you furious with
yourself?"

She sighed again. "Because of the way I treated you. I threw so
many women at you even after you told me you weren't interested
in anyone else. There were so many times I wanted to -- to put my
arms around you and tell you how I felt and that I was just too
scared to admit that I loved you." A single sniffle escaped, and
she pulled herself together with a visible effort. "I wanted to
be strong, to be independent, to be invulnerable to pain. But it
just doesn't work that way. I couldn't let myself get away with
it."

He'd heard all that she'd said, but what popped out to him was
something she'd dropped into the middle of that paragraph.
"Lois -- did you -- did you just say that you loved me?"

She almost smiled. "Yeah. I guess I did."

"Now -- do you -- is that present tense or past tense?"

She chuckled lightly. "Present tense, Clark. I love you. And
that's why you can't leave Metropolis. I'd be abandoned,
bereft, cancelled like a used stamp, devastated, empty, forsaken,
gutted, halved like a worm in a sliced apple--"

"Please tell me you're not going to go through the entire
alphabet."

They smiled together. "Wish I could, but I got stuck on 'Q'
and 'X.'" She reached out and captured his hands in hers.
"Please don't go. Please stay here with me. I want to make a
life with you, Clark. Whatever time I have left, I want to spend
it with you."

That was good to know -- wait, she said what? He felt his face
pale and slacken. "What do you mean, whatever time you have
left?"

"Ah. Another thing Perry didn't share with you." She leaned
back but didn't release his hands. "Doctor Richards told me
that my liver might fail abruptly one day. I'm on the transplant
list, but there's something funky about my blood type or my cell
structure or something that makes finding a donor liver a long
shot at best. I might have five years left, I might have fifty
years left. Of course, the longer I survive, the better the
chances are that I'll find a donor. Or that someone will figure
out how to clone someone's liver. Maybe Dr. Hamilton can work on
that. And, maybe some doctor will find an effective treatment for
me."

Okay, this wasn't good news, but it wasn't the worst he could
have heard. They could work with this. He relaxed and licked his
lips.

She turned to face him and leaned closer. "Did you know that you
can donate half a liver and the half that's left will grow back?
And the half you donate -- well, not you, obviously, but a
non-Kryptonian person -- the donated half will develop into a
complete liver with full function? Assuming, of course, that the
donor and recipient are compatible and the liver halves are
healthy and the donor doesn't have some other physical issue."

"No, I didn't."

"It's true. Of course, now that you know my big secret, maybe
you -- you wouldn't want to risk a relationship with someone
who's liable to up and die on you any minute."

What? No! He couldn't let her think that. "Lois--"

"And I'm far more likely to have a shorter life than a longer
one. You wouldn't want to be a thirty-something widower, would
you? Of course not. So -- so maybe it's a bad idea for you to
stay because of me after all."

"Lois, will you please--"

She pulled her hands back and turned away. "And I wouldn't
blame you a bit! I'm headstrong, stubborn, impulsive, high
maintenance, and a really bad insurance risk, especially now that
I probably won't live out a normal life sp--"

The only way he could think of to shut her up was to kiss her.

So he turned her face toward him and did.

And it worked.

Her arms slid around his neck and she pressed her face against
his.

And Clark loved it. This was better than flying. He wanted it to
go on forever.

She finally inched away slowly, almost panting. "That -- that
wasn't fair. I wasn't finished ranting at you."

"I know. But I wanted to say that I don't care about your liver
or what your doctor told you or what disadvantages you think you
have. I love you and I want to make a life with you."

"Make a life with me?"

"Yep. Me and you, together for always."

"Hmm. You know, I think you're plagiarizing me. I've already
used that phrase in a sentence."

He touched his lips to hers and pulled back slightly. "I'm not
plagiarizing, I'm reinforcing and agreeing."

"Oh. Well, then I don't mind so much."

She pulled him back into a kiss but released him after a few
seconds. "Clark? What's wrong?"

He gestured helplessly. "I want to put my arms around you, but I
also don't want to hurt you."

She smiled. "Thank you. How about I arrange myself on your lap?
Then you can put your arms of steel around me and we'll kiss and
go on from there."

He grinned. "Sounds like a plan to me."

She did. And he did. And he held her as close to him as he
could.

***

A long time later, as Lois drowsed on the couch in Clark's arms,
a thought came to her and she knew she had to share it.
"Clark?"

"Yes, Lois?"

"Does it -- no, sorry, wrong question. How much does it matter
that I -- that you'll probably live longer than I will?"

She felt his arms tighten protectively. "It matters. But it just
means that I -- that we don't have any time to waste."

"But -- I don't want to leave you alone. And I don't want to
miss out on all the years we might have had together."

He shook his head and kissed the tip of her nose. "It isn't the
years that are most important, Lois. It's the moments. As long
as we have lots and lots of wonderful moments together, it'll be
enough for me."

Her hand caressed his face. "Are you sure? Because I don't want
you to think that I'd abandon you."

He turned his head and kissed her palm. "I'd never think that
because I know it could never be true. You wouldn't stop loving
me no matter what. And I'll never stop loving you no matter
what. Besides, even though I'm Superman, that doesn't mean that
I'll live forever. It may not be likely to happen, but it's
possible that I'll die before you do."

The thought shocked her. "Wow. I -- have to admit that I never
even considered that outcome." She nestled her head against his
shoulder. "I guess I'm still pretty self-centered, huh?"

"No. You're just considering the most likely scenario. And
there's a third possibility, too."

"What's that?"

"We could go out together."

"Very romantic and more than a little bit dark, but also very
unlikely."

"True. But it's still possible. And we'd avoid all this angst
that we're dreading right now."

She chuckled deep in her chest, ignoring the small, sharp twinges
in her belly. "You always look on the bright side, don't
you?"

He brushed her bangs away from her forehead. "I just wish I
could do something more. I wish I could donate part of my liver
to you."

"I know." She tried to put all of her love into her smile.
"But our vital organs aren't compatible."

His eyes focused on hers. "How do you know that? Maybe
Earth-humans and Krypton-humans are close enough to exchange body
parts."

She shook her head. "Won't work. I already asked Bernie Klein
about it."

He went still and licked his lips. "I'm sorry, I don't
understand. Why would you ask him that question? And why is he
consulting on your case?"

"It's simple, really. Doctor Richards sent for him when I asked
if Superman could donate a partial liver. I told him Bernie it
was the least that Superman could do, especially since I got hurt
saving his life."

Clark's head lifted for a moment, then he shrugged and smiled.
"I guess that's true. But what did he say?"

"That quite aside from the problem of how to remove part of your
liver without using Kryptonite, your liver functions just a
little different from mine. You get a lot of your nourishment
from solar energy, and your liver processes the waste products
from that function. Bernie has no idea what that tissue might try
to do in an Earth-human, but he said he couldn't think of any
way that it would be a good thing. And Doctor Richards agreed
with him."

Clark's face fell and he whispered, "I'm so sorry. You know
I'd do whatever I had to do if they thought it would work."

"I know, darling. I know. We'll just have to deal with it,
that's all."

She stroked his smooth cheek and he almost smiled. "That's the
first time you've called me that."

"Do you like it?"

"Very much." He bent to kiss her again as her arms snaked
around his neck.

After a time just long enough for Lois to have to take a breath,
she said, "You know, we're going to need a family doctor. I
think Burt and Bernie would fill that role quite well."

He frowned in apparent thought for a few seconds, then nodded.
"I agree. When do you want to tell them?"

"Soon enough for them to get your blood test for the marriage
license."

He chuckled and gently held her close. "That's a good idea. How
about tomorrow?"

She laughed with him. "If that's what you really want, then the
answer is 'yes.' I'm through with waiting for love to fall out
of the sky for me, Clark. I love you and I want to be your wife
as long as we both shall live."

"Well, today is Saturday, so how about first thing Monday
morning? Contrary to the Mamas and Papas, I think we can trust
that day."

She reached up again and ran her fingers through his hair. "I
don't care about the day. I know I can trust you."

Their lips came together once again, and she thought about the
newspapers he'd brought for her to autograph.

Then she forgot them again for quite a while.

***

Clark stared into the mirror and fussed with the bow tie on his
tux until his father gently took his wrist and lowered his hand.
"It's fine like it is, Son. Besides, the only person who's
going to be looking at you is Lois."

Clark smiled nervously. "I know. I just want to look the best I
can for her."

Sam Lane patted Clark awkwardly on the shoulder. "You already
do, young man. You know, I don't think Ellen ever looked at me
like my little girl looks at you." Sam sighed and looked at the
door of the groom's room, then back at Clark. "And I haven't
supported the two of you like I should have -- but -- Clark,
you're the finest man of your generation I've ever met. You'll
be a wonderful husband for Lois."

Jimmy brushed some invisible fuzz from Clark's shoulder.
"Don't worry, CK, this is the easy part. At least, that's what
they tell me."

The two older men looked at each other and chuckled. "Young
Olsen is right," Sam added. "The wedding is about twenty to
forty minutes of sheer terror that you're going to say or do the
wrong thing and embarrass yourself and your bride."

"Which you won't," grinned Jonathan.

"Your dad's right, young man. The honeymoon is a time of wonder
and bliss and learning about each other. And I don't mean just
sex, either. One of you is going to want the covers a certain way
that the other one hates, one of you will squeeze the toothpaste
from the wrong part of the tube, one of you will be a morning
person and wake up smiling at a growling bear, and that's when
you start figuring out that marriage is a lot of work." Sam
dropped his smile. "I didn't have the courage to face all that
hard work, Clark. But I think you do."

"Of course he does! He's a Kent. And he has my Martha's Clark
family heritage on his side, too."

Sam's eyes flickered and his lips moved as if he'd thought
about mentioning Clark being adopted but decided not to.

"Hey, guys, everything will be just fine!" Jimmy insisted. "I
may be the youngest guy here, but I've never seen two people who
love each other like CK and Lois do." He gave Clark a soft punch
on the outside of his shoulder. "Even if they had to have it
hammered into their heads. I tell you what, guys, I've never
seen two more stubborn people, either."

Jonathan looked at Sam and said, "Jimmy has a point, Sam. Which
one of them do you think is more stubborn?"

Sam leaned back and rubbed his chin with his hand. "Well, I
can't say for certain. Lois is certainly more vocal, and she
sends up bright red signal flares when she's about to argue, but
when Clark sets his feet and leans into an idea, you can't move
him with a bulldozer. Their styles are different, but which is
more stubborn? I'd have to say it's pretty much a dead heat."

Jonathan chuckled again. "I think I agree with you. Hey, do I
hear 'Together Forever' on the organ?"

Clark felt himself go pale again. "Yes. That's the seating of
the special guests. Perry and Alice, Pete and Lana, Rachel, Cat
and her date of the week, Bobby Bigmouth, and some others I
can't remember right now."

The other three laughed and covered their mouths. When Jimmy got
himself under control again, he asked, "So, would Lois mind if I
asked the maid of honor out on a date?"

Sam lifted his eyebrows at Jimmy. "Let me recover from this
wedding first, okay, Olsen? No, I take that back. I'll give you
real cash money if you and Lucy elope. It'll be cheaper."

It was Jimmy's turn to blush as Clark and Jonathan chuckled.
"Hey, how about we get Lucy's sister married off first? And
then let her decide if she even wants to date me? I haven't even
asked her out yet!"

"Well, if you do marry my younger daughter, young man, I want
you to use the same sign."

Jimmy frowned in confusion. "Huh? What sign?"

Clark pointed in the general direction of the church sanctuary.
"It's mounted on a microphone stand at the back of the
auditorium. Lois found a sign that says, 'This is the joining of
two families into one. We ask you to take a seat, not a side, and
celebrate this joyous occasion with us.' I thought it was
appropriate."

After a long moment, Sam and Jonathan each put a hand on one of
Clark's shoulders. "It is completely appropriate, Clark," said
Sam. "And I thank all of you for allowing me to participate in
this joy."

Clark reached up and crossed his arms to grab each older man's
hand. "Lois and I wouldn't have it any other way."

***

Lois sat on the stool in the bride's room, wearing her wedding
gown and a frozen smile. Without moving her lips, she said, "Are
you done yet, Non?"

"Non?" muttered Ellen. "Who's Non?"

"That's you, Mother," Lucy purred. "Lois can't pronounce
'm' with her lips jacked apart like that. Now, if you are
finally finished with Lois' face, it sounds like we have about
three or four minutes to go before we parade in and knock all the
men's socks off."

Ellen moved back from her older daughter's face and sighed.
"That's the best I can do."

Lois rolled her eyes. "Gee, Non, thanks a bunch. What a
confidence builder you are." She turned to Lucy. "And you? I
thought the bride was supposed to knock their socks off."

"No, that's the bridal party's job. You, big Sis, are going to
walk in in Daddy's arm like you own the whole place and knock
Clark's eyes right out of his head. And that's what counts."

Martha carefully hugged Lois around the shoulders. "Lucy's
right, dear. You are probably the most beautiful bride I've ever
seen."

Ellen smiled. "I've seen your wedding pictures, Martha. You
were quite stunning."

Martha beamed. "Thank you, Ellen. I think any bride's beauty
depends on the man she's marrying. And you looked pretty good in
your pictures too, you know."

Ellen blushed slightly. "Thank you, Martha. I know you're
sincere. From almost anyone else, I'd know it was flattery, but
you're probably the most honest and straightforward woman I
know." She reached out and took Martha's hand. "I'm so
pleased that your son is marrying my daughter. Now maybe she
won't get shot at quite so often."

"At least not until after the honeymoon," Lucy cackled.

Lois' face softened and turned dreamy. "Yes, the honeymoon.
I'm really looking forward to that."

"Of course she is, Non," giggled Lucy. "She's got the galley
proofs for her first Wanda Detroit novel to work on and she'll
have plenty of free time for it."

Ellen sighed. "You two are not going to call me 'Non' from now
on, are you?"

"No, Non," Lois answered, "just today."

"Lois, dear, how large is the first printing?"

"Oh, Martha, I don't want to talk about that now!" Then she
grinned sideways. "Although Brad, my agent, thinks the first
seventy thousand copies should fly off the shelves. That's a
healthy number for a debut mystery series. We're getting some
really good pre-release buzz, and Brad expects at least two more
printings at that volume."

"I doubt if that's the kind of buzz Clark is hoping for,
Sis."

"Lucy Lane! That's my son you're making lewd comments
about!"

"Don't worry, Martha. See the dress? See the color? I earned
this white with my persistent acceptance of Clark's refusals to
let me seduce him."

Martha snorted a laugh, but Ellen put her hands on her hips and
frowned at her older daughter. "Young lady, if you were still
living at home, I'd take you over my knee and spank you for that
remark."

"Careful, Non, that's going to be her husband's privilege from
now on."

The room suddenly went silent as the other three women stared at
Lucy. "Hey," she stuttered, "I -- I'm sorry. I -- shouldn't
have said that."

Lois stood and embraced her sister. "Oh, Lucy! Please don't
forget that any man who puts his hands on a woman with anything
but tenderness is not a man you want to be around." She pushed
Lucy back and looked gently into her eyes. "Clark will never
hurt me. I have every confidence in him. He may do something
stupid or just make a mistake and hurt my heart, but he will
never, never ever touch me because he wants to hurt me. I trust
him with my life." Lois' voice dropped in volume. "You
understand?"

Lois saw comprehension wash over Lucy's face as the younger girl
nodded. "Yes. I understand. And I never -- not ever! -- thought
that Clark would do anything to hurt you. I trust him as much as
you do."

Lois smiled. "Good. Now I need something to take my mind off
waiting. Tell me about your latest job, Punky."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lois saw her mother roll her eyes,
but Lucy either missed it or ignored it. "I'm working with a
re-imagining of the play 'Twelve Angry Men.' The new title is
'Twelve Angry People' and I get the part Jack Klugman had in
the Henry Fonda movie. There are seven men and five women in the
jury, and I get to demonstrate the proper knife-fighting
technique to the rest of them. We're due to take it to Cleveland
for a full dress presentation in two weeks, and if the audience
and critics like it as much as everyone in the play does, we may
bring it to Metropolis."

"That's wonderful, Punky! You make sure that Clark and I get
some tickets for one of your performances, okay?"

Lucy shrugged. "If we get this far, sure, no problem."

A soft knock on the door forestalled any further discussion. A
smiling older lady cracked the door open and leaned in. "Wedding
planner butting in! One minute to go, ladies. Everyone ready?"

"Ready, Mrs. Dalton," answered Martha.

Mrs. Dalton stepped partway into the room. "You know, I can't
recall a wedding where both the bride's and groom's parents
were part of the wedding party, but I think it's a perfectly
lovely idea! I'm going to suggest it to all the couples I work
with from now on." She turned and began to leave, then stopped.
"Assuming, of course, that they get along as wonderfully as all
of you folks do."

The door closed behind her and Lois took a deep breath. "Well,
it's time."

Lucy leaned in and muttered, "If you want to lam out of here,
I've got a getaway car warmed up in the alley. We'll go rob a
bank, then drive straight through to the Grand Canyon and park
right above a high cliff and let the cops arrest us."

Lois shook her head. "Only my baby sister could come up with a
Thelma and Louise getaway plan at this stage of the game."

Martha looked at Ellen, waved one hand in Lucy's general
direction, and said, "Incorrigible, isn't she?"

Ellen sighed deeply. "Always has been. At least we're marrying
the other one off to a good man."

***

>>> Chapter Seven

"You know, Lois, house-hunting with you is one part fun and
three parts crazy. I think we're about to drive Mike nuts."

"That's a realtor's job, to go nuts so the clients don't look
for another realtor. I figure he's about due to start chewing on
his eyebrows any minute now."

"Maybe if we actually agreed on the area where we want to live
it might help."

"Clark, are you sure you don't want to live in the city? I
heard about a wonderful brownstone not far from the Planet."

"I'm sure, honey. Wisteria Lane out here in the suburbs will be
nicer and less stressful. And I'm the only one who'll be going
to the Planet on a daily basis, so we won't need to find
downtown parking for two vehicles."

"Are you sure we can afford two stories, four bedrooms, and two
full bathrooms? And a big kitchen?"

"I'm sure. We have my income, your syndicated column -- which
is still growing fast -- your book sales, which also look very
healthy, and your disability payments from the Planet's insurers
and from your personal insurance. And judging from our recent
honeymoon, I think you can handle the stairs just fine."

"Clark Kent, you smooth-talking hero! If the realtor wasn't
waiting for us downstairs I'd show you how much stress I can
still handle!"

"Mmm, I'd love that myself. But can you restrain yourself until
we set up a king-sized bed in that huge master bedroom?"

"Oh, I suppose so, if you insist. But I really want to know what
we're going to do with the other bedrooms."

"Simple. One will be your office. You choose the one you want.
One will be mine. And we can put our 'spare clothes' in the
other one."

"Oooh, that's a super idea. And a rare good use of air
quotes."

"Thank you. It's nice to know I'm appreciated."

"You know, I like the neighborhood, too. It's really laid-back.
Lots of other young married couples live around here, and I think
I'm going to like the sound of children playing in nearby yards.
I'm sure the house will grow on me."

"So let's go make an offer and see what the realtor and the
builder say."

"Just don't offer too much. We don't want to appear
desperate."

***

Lois burst through the front door and stopped. She was about to
change their lives and she didn't know how her husband would
react.

Who was she kidding? She knew exactly what he'd do. All she
could do now was wait for him to do it.

She followed her nose to the kitchen and put her purse on the
table. "Hi, baby," he said. "How did your checkup go?"

Here it was.

"Well -- I think -- no, I know we're in for a big change."

His eyes snapped open wide. "What? Why? Has Dr. Richards found a
donor?"

"No, Burton hasn't found a donor, not yet. Don't worry, my
liver is still working at its normal-for-me reduced rate. And
before you ask, the cloning question is still up in the air. Um
-- you know how we've been decorating the house, right?"

His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned at the sudden change of
subject. "Of course I do. That's been one of our most
time-consuming activities for the last eight months. Aside from
being newlyweds, that is."

"Yeah. Well -- seems like we're going to need to do something
different with one of the rooms."

"What for?" His face showed his sudden alarm. "Oh, no!
Something is wrong with your liver, something bad, isn't it?"
He dropped the cooking utensils on the cabinet beside the stove
and all but leaped to grab her. "It's okay, honey. We'll get
through this."

From deep within his trembling embrace, she giggled. "No, silly,
no change on my liver! At least, not yet."

He leaned back, obviously baffled. "Not yet?"

She smiled and touched his cheek. "Not yet."

He took her by the arms and held her back. "Lois, would you
please explain to me what you're trying not to tell me."

She nodded. "Okay. I'm pregnant."

His eyes lost focus and his jaw dropped open. "But -- but Bernie
-- Bernie said we -- he said we couldn't--"

She smiled. "I know. He was wrong. And he said he was never so
thrilled to be wrong as he was today. Even Burton was stunned."

His face went from mule-kicked to blossoming joy to caution in
under three seconds. "Hang on. What does Dr. Richards think
about you being pregnant?"

"He said he wouldn't have recommended it, but he didn't know
of any reason for me not to be. Pregnancy and childbirth are
always stressful on a mother, but he said that he and Bernie
would take extra-special care of me and that he believed I'd be
just fine."

Clark nodded slowly. "So -- we're going to be parents?"

"That we are."

"Do they know when?"

"Oh, I'd say in about seven months."

He shook his head. "Parents after only fifteen months of
marriage. Wow!" He took in a big breath and let it out slowly.
"Do you think we're ready?"

"Well, we'd better be, don't you think? It's too late to ask
for a refund."

Clark looked into her eyes and chuckled. The chuckle slowly grew
into a belly laugh, one which Lois shared. She drew him into a
warm embrace and caressed his powerful back with her hands and
buried her face into his massive chest. This was turning out just
like she'd envisioned.

The one thing she hadn't predicted was that they never had
dinner that night. They were too busy celebrating their love and
deciding which room should be the nursery.

***

"Breathe, Lois! Breathe! Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo--"

"I'm breathing already! Aaaaah! Go get a cat out of a tree or
something!"

"Now, Lois, Clark is here for a reason. He's going to catch the
baby just as soon as he decides to come out."

"Come on, Lois, you can do this! Doctor Preston, is she ready to
push yet?"

"Yes, I think so. Okay, Lois, one more push and--"

"NNNNGGGGAAAHHHHH!"

"The head is crowning! The baby's head is coming out!"

"Get ready, Clark. Here he comes. Lois, one more big one,
okay?"

"EEEAAARRRGGGGHHHImgonnakillyouClark!"

"What?"

"Just focus on catching the baby, Clark. Here he comes. Here he
comes!"

"I got him! I got him! Oh, Lois, he's beautiful, just like his
mother!"

"Haaaaahggh."

"Lois? Honey, are you okay?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Let me see him."

"Here you go. Do you want a cold cloth for your face?"

"Oh, yes, please, Clark, that would feel wonderful."

"He's beautiful, Lois. You did great. As always. No matter what
you do, you do it so well."

"Thank you, darling. Oh, look, he's trying to latch onto my
breast! And he barely cried! Wait, Doctor Preston, is that good
or bad?"

"Lois, your son is breathing easily, he's a nice pink color, he
has all his fingers and toes, his cardiac monitor shows a strong
heartbeat, and he's trying to nurse already. According to what
they taught me in baby school, that means he's just fine."

"Oh, Clark! Our son. He's our son!"

"Do you still want to name him Jonathan Samuel?"

"Of course! Have our parents arrived yet?"

"Honey, you were only in labor for a little over three hours.
That's pretty fast. Don't worry, they'll all be here soon."

"Okay. Oh, Jonathan Samuel Kent, you are going to be loved so
much by so many!"

"You know, Jimmy and Darla are seeing her doctor. Something
about their premarital health screenings. I know they'd love to
see you if you feel up to it."

"Maybe after I get some sleep. But if I'm not awake, let them
see little Jon. I want to show him off to everyone I know."

"Yeah, me too."

"Oh, Clark, this is so wonderful! If I'd known all this would
happen, I would've let Nigel shoot me a long time ago!"

***

Dr. Burton Richards goggled at his friend. "She said what?"

Bernie Klein sat back in his chair across from his friend's desk
and laughed. "You heard me! She didn't mean it literally, of
course, but that's our Lois. I don't think Clark knows from one
minute to the next what she'll say or do."

Burton shook his head. "She is definitely my best and worst
patient. Best, because all I have to do is tell any new liver
patients that I treat her and they automatically perk up. She's
been a terrific morale boost for both my patients and their
families."

"And how is she the worst?"

Burton sighed. "Because she's crazy. She needs to stay on a
fairly strict schedule, but good luck getting her to stick to
that. She's already talking about a second child, and she won't
listen to me when I tell her that her liver probably wouldn't
tolerate a second pregnancy so well. I don't know how to get it
through her head that she's not as strong as she once was and
never will be."

Bernie nodded. "Yes, well, she still thinks Superman will rescue
her if she gets in real trouble."

"If he doesn't -- never mind."

Despite being socially inept most of the time, Bernie wasn't
medically dense. He picked up on what Burton had just said.
"What do you mean? If he doesn't what?"

"Nothing."

"Burt?"

"Never mind!"

Bernie leaned forward. "This situation concerns not only our
mutual patient but one of my few truly close friends. If you have
any ongoing concerns about Lois' health, I think you should
share them with me." Bernie's voice, normally soft and bland,
hardened. "Now."

Burton looked into Bernie's eyes for a long moment, then sighed.
"Okay. I've consulted with my brother Reed on this -- without
revealing any names -- and he agrees that my conclusions are
unprovable but may very well be right."

"What conclusions?"

Burton reached for a folder on the small table behind him. "You
shared this information about Superman with me when we found out
Lois was pregnant."

"Yes. With their permission, if you recall."

"Of course. Anyway, I was very interested in Superman's aura. I
agree with your conclusions about it, that he unconsciously
extends it to include Lois whenever she's close enough, which is
most of the time."

"They're married, Burt. What did you expect?"

Burton lifted his hand. "Easy, Bern. I wasn't criticizing.
Besides, that aura keeps anyone flying with Superman from being
burned by friction or asphyxiated by the speed of his passage
through the air. It's a semi-permeable energy membrane that
allows air to pass through without transmitting the energy or
pressure from his speed."

"It's not actually a membrane, it just acts like one. And I
haven't figured out exactly how it works yet, not in detail."

"I know. And that's one of the factors which keep my
conclusions from being far more definite."

"What conclusions, Burt?"

Burton sighed again. "Okay. When they're together, Clark's
aura prevents Lois's organs from deteriorating, right down at
the cellular level. That's a good thing, and it's probably what
helped make this childbirth relatively stress-free."

"You say it helped?"

"It was almost certainly a major contributing factor, combined
with Lois' own youth and vitality. But the aura is also causing
problems for her liver and the rest of her body."

"What? How is it doing that?"

Burton wiped his face with his hands. "Look, here's where we
leave relative certainty and venture into uncharted realms. You
remember those old maps that stopped where the old explorers
stopped and beyond that the legend often read 'Here be
dragons'? Well, this is dragon territory, and I don't know for
certain what's beyond this point."

"Tell me your best guess."

"You may not like it."

"I already don't like this. Tell me your best guess, Burt."

Burton licked his lips. "My best guess is that not only is
Clark's aura sustaining Lois' liver and preventing further
damage, but it's keeping it from healing on its own. I also
believe, but can't prove, that it would interfere with any kind
of major partial or full liver replacement. His aura isn't
completely under his control, like a regular human's reflexive
reaction to sudden heat. We put out fingers on a hot burner and
snatch it back before our brain actually registers the heat and
pain."

"Sure. That reflex originates at the spinal cord."

"Right. Well, whatever the Kryptonian equivalent is in regards
to his aura, he envelops her with it without thinking about it. I
seriously doubt that he could turn it off even if he wanted
to."

Bernie frowned in thought for a long moment. "If I understand
what you're telling me, that means Clark would have to stay away
from Lois long enough for her to receive a donor liver and settle
into a regimen of anti-rejections drugs."

"That's right."

"So couldn't he just keep away from her for a few months? Until
her new liver settled down and her body got used to it?"

"I don't think so. Lois would have to take those anti-rejection
drugs for the rest of her life. And because those drugs
artificially suppress the recipient's immune response to foreign
bodies, Clark's aura would try to protect Lois from both the
drugs and the new liver."

"That means -- that means we can't give Lois a new liver.
She'd reject it as if she weren't taking any drugs at all."

Burton nodded. "Right. As long as they want to be married to
each other, no transplanted liver for Lois. You know them better
than I do, but I don't see them divorcing over this."

"But Clark's been around people with similar health problems
before. I don't understand why -- unless -- unless this is
something cumulative?"

"I think it is, given what you know about his aura. He's never
apart from her long enough for her liver to either fail or heal
on its own. You could use the analogy that he's both propping up
a condemned building and not allowing any contractors on site to
either fix it or replace it."

Bernie rubbed his chin. "I'm still not clear on why his aura
isn't letting her liver heal. It doesn't work on him that
way."

"We're still in dragon territory, remember? So all I have is a
theory supported by some evidence, a lot of educated guesses, and
some logical but weird deductions. Human tissue has to break down
in order to trigger the healing process. You don't get a scab on
a cut unless there's a cut first. So what I think Clark's aura
is doing is keeping Lois' liver from deteriorating to the point
where her own natural healing process would try to take over."

"Could he stay away from her long enough to let her liver heal
naturally?"

Burton shrugged, his ebony face drawn and sad. "I don't know if
it would heal or collapse without his aura to sustain it. There
are more dragons down that road than I care to take on any time
soon."

"What about cloning her liver?"

Burton shrugged again. "I know what Hamilton and Mamba and a few
others have done with cloning, but it's different when you're
talking about just one organ, especially the liver. It should be
simpler, but it's not. An adult's liver has grown up with and
adjusted to the other organs around it and has learned to work
within the endocrine and digestive systems, and those systems
have grown up with it. You're talking about a major stress event
to introduce a new liver into the body, even a cloned one. You
know, in some ways, transplanting a heart is easier. Hearts are
basically just a bundle of muscle fibers that pump blood. Livers
filter that blood, inject enzymes and hormones into it, add
chemicals to the digestive system, and do some other things we
don't fully understand yet. And Superman's liver does all that
and even more stuff I can't explain, so a partial transplant
from him is out of the question. I wish I could say that cloning
was a viable option, but given Clark's aura and the
complications that brings in, I have less hope for a cloned liver
than for a donor."

Bernie's eyes opened wide. "What if we bring her father in on
this?"

"Sam Lane? I don't think he could help us here. His expertise
is in prostheses and limb replacement. I don't know near enough
about that field to delve into it, and I seriously doubt Sam has
done enough research and study to come up with something we
haven't tried or discarded." He looked down. "If Lois had lost
a leg, yes, he'd be one of the first I'd call. But not with a
liver."

"Wow." Bernie rubbed his scalp with one hand. "Do you have any
hope at all for using a cloned liver?"

"The only way I think of to get a viable cloned liver would be
for us to clone Lois entirely and let Superman hang around the
clone enough to get its liver used to his aura and then do a
partial transplant. But I don't have any real idea how long that
would take, and I can't see Clark being away from his family and
his jobs -- both of them -- long enough for that to work. And
that doesn't begin to take into account the ethical problems of
cloning a person for the purpose of harvesting vital organs. The
clone would eventually become a person in her own right, totally
separate from Lois, and what would she do with her life? What
rights would she have? Who would she be? How would she live? And
all that assumes that both Lois and the clone would survive and
thrive."

"Not to mention getting both Clark's and Lois' permission to
go ahead with that plan."

"That is not a conversation I would want to have with either of
them, much less with both at once."

"I think I'd rather learn to tap dance in a mine field."
Bernie leaned forward and put his face in his hands. "If she did
get a donated liver, how long would she have?"

"Dragon territory, remember? All I have is some almost-informed
and somewhat wild guesses."

Bernie perched his chin on his fists and his elbows on his knees.
"So give me your best wild guess. And before you say it, I'm
already pretty sure I won't like it."

Burton sighed and shook his head. "Assuming it would be possible
to acclimate another liver to Superman's aura, with a transplant
there's no time for that. We couldn't keep it viable outside
the body that long. I would estimate that Lois would reject a
donor liver within a month of living with Clark. And that leads
us -- or me, actually -- to another difficult question."

Bernie looked at his friend with compassion. "The question of
what you're going to tell them about this. Assuming you tell
them anything."

Burton nodded again. "On the nose, Bern. I really don't know
how accurate this diagnosis is. I'm not some
legend-in-my-own-mind doctor character in a TV show who thinks he
knows the right thing to do all the time. I know I don't have
all the answers. I don't even know if I'm right."

"Which is why you didn't want to tell me about it."

"And now you get to carry this burden along with me."

"Lucky me."

"Lucky both of us."

Bernie snorted. "Yeah, lucky. What's the probability of you
being right about this?"

Burton frowned. "I don't think I can put an accurate number on
that. There are just too many variables. I might even be totally,
utterly, completely wrong."

"Let's say you're on the right track. What's the probability
that your final diagnosis is accurate? What odds would you give
Lois on getting a new liver and thriving?"

Burton blew a breath out through his nose. "If you held a
scalpel to my jugular vein, I'd have to give myself a seventy
percent chance of being right."

"So -- that's a thirty percent chance of a successful
transplant, whether full or partial."

"I'm afraid so."

After a long moment of silence, Bernie stood and walked around
the desk, then put his hand on Burton's shoulder. "If you
decide to talk to them about this, I'll be there with you. For
the moment, though, I think you're right not to share it. This
would be too much for them at this point in time."

Burton nodded. "Thanks, Bern. I just hope I'm wrong about it
all."

"So do I. But assuming you're not way out in left field, and
assuming Lois's liver did fail, what's the most likely
scenario?"

Burton leaned back in his chair and looked at the file folder on
his desk. "Most likely? Given her current lifestyle and their
shared circumstances, I think her liver would fail suddenly and
catastrophically, probably after a very high-stress event."

"Like having another baby?"

Burton closed his eyes and turned his head away from Bernie.
"Yes. Like having another baby."

Bernie chewed on his lip for a long moment, then asked, "What if
she doesn't have any more children? What then?"

"I assume you want to know how long I think she'll live?"

Bernie sat on the edge of the desk. "Best guess."

"Again with the guesses you want from me."

"Stop being Yoda's Jewish cousin and give me the straightest
answer you've got."

Burton looked at his friend and smiled sadly. "Okay. My best
guess is that Lois, assuming a normal lifestyle from here on out,
has a life expectancy of thirty to sixty years. She should see
her son graduate from college and tell her grandchildren bedtime
stories."

Bernie relaxed visibly and nodded. "Now factor in what you know
of Lois Lane's lifestyle, her penchant for hard work and skating
on the razor's edge of disaster, and her tendency to dive
headfirst into whatever she's doing."

"She might not live another five years."

Bernie gulped aloud. "That's -- a little abrupt."

"You wanted my best guess, Bern. The other side of that is that
she might outlive all of us non-Kryptonians. If we factor in her
previous lifestyle, there's really no way to calculate how long
she might live. And if she doesn't make major changes, her liver
might be the least of her worries." Burton leaned forward and
put his elbows on his desk. "So how do we proceed from here?"

Bernie stood and crossed his arms in thought for a long moment.
"First, we don't tell them anything specific because we can't
be specific between ourselves. Second, we strongly advise Lois to
dial back her 007 lifestyle just for her general health. Third,
we put in as much time and effort as is reasonable, given our
other responsibilities, into solving the transplant problem,
whether from a live donor or a clone."

Burton stood and walked around the desk, then put his hand on
Bernie's shoulder. "That's a good summation. I think that's
out best plan. And hey, if we can't solve this, it might be
unsolvable."

"I don't like to think about that."

"Neither do I, but it's a fact that doctors always lose
patients in the end. We're born, we live, we die. Nobody gets
out of life alive."

Bernie turned rheumy eyes to his friend. "Which is why I moved
into research. It rips me apart to lose a patient, especially
when that patient is also a friend."

Burton squeezed Bernie's shoulder. "Then we'll do our very
best to put off that event as long as we can. Come on, let's go
see the baby. I'm a sucker for little kids."

***

>>> Chapter Eight

Lois sat down across from her agent's desk, wondering why he'd
insisted on this meeting. Like every author, she'd followed the
sales figures released by Putnam and tracked how well her books
were doing. Wanda Detroit had hit some kind of nerve among both
mystery fans and casual readers of fiction, and she was working
on the treatment for the next novel now.

Maybe that's what Brad wanted to talk about. Kenneth and Carl --
she'd renamed the Kent and Clark characters as fast as her
fingers could activate the global search-and-replace option in
her word processor -- had begun the first book competing for
Wanda's affections and had progressed to almost enemies in the
second. She wasn't sure what to do with that dynamic, even
though it seemed that the relationship triangle was one of the
big selling points. Many of the critics had identified Wanda's
dilemma as the driving force of the romantic side of the
mysteries.

But it was time to find out why she was here.

Brad Thompson, followed by his assistant Maya, both breezed into
the office wearing huge smiles. Brad sat in his chair while Maya
set out a bowl of grapes, coffee, a small plate of sweet rolls,
and a transparent carafe of orange juice. She silently offered
Lois a glass, which Lois declined.

"Anything else?"

"No thanks, Maya."

"Tummy upset?"

Lois smiled at her. "No. I'm not having as much morning
sickness with this baby. I'm just not hungry right now."

"Okay, Ms. Lane. It's there if you want it. And no cyanide in
it, I promise."

She giggled as she trotted out of the room. Lois looked at her
agent. "Cyanide?"

Brad shook his head. "Last Wanda book, remember? Maya really
liked the surprise of the cyanide in the OJ and how Wanda refused
to drink it even after she got the confession unless the bad guy
drank some too. Would you rather have a grape or two?" As Lois
shook her head 'no,' he said, "I'm pretty sure I can get Maya
to scare up some yogurt if you want some."

"No thanks, Brad. I just want you to tell me what this meeting
is about."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I thought you already knew."

"Nope." Then a horrible notion sneaked into Lois' mind. "Tell
me Putman isn't dropping me!"

"What? No! No, absolutely not! Where did you get that evil
thought?"

"Nothing, never mind." She blew a breath out her nose in
frustration. "So why am I here?"

"Ah. I have good news." He turned in his chair and picked up a
folder from the desk behind him. "First thing, the second book,
'The Pigeon Coos At Midnight,' has hit the Daily Planet
best-seller list."

"So did 'Birds Of A Feather Die Together.' That's good news,
but I can't say I wasn't expecting it."

"Ah," he smiled, "I see you're watching your sales
figures!"

"Doesn't every author?"

"Every author I've ever dealt with does. They even check
magazine sales if they've got an interview or an article being
published that month, although I don't pay much attention to
those even if they do pay real money. They're blips on the
radar, not long-term trends."

"Fair enough. So I'm going to be on the best-seller list again?
Why is that so significant?"

"Because, my dear hot new property, you are going to open at
number nine. 'Feather' never made it past seventeen."

"But it was on the list for thirteen weeks."

"Yes, and that's why Putnam is rolling the dice on a fifth
printing of 'Feather' as a companion to 'Pigeon.' And
there's one more thing, too."

"Well, tell me! Don't keep me on tenterhooks!"

He looked at her for a moment as if puzzled, then smiled widely.
"I hope that phrase makes it into the new Wanda book. Do you
have a title yet?"

"The working title is 'Wanda's Third Adventure.' It'll
change before you see it, I promise. I also promise that Kenneth
and Carl are going to save each other's lives and become
grudging friends." She brushed her hair back with one hand.
"That will make it even harder for Wanda to choose between them.
I think it sets up the resolution in the last book very well."

"Well, Lois, you have a great incentive to come up with a good
title and to keep that relationship dynamic going. Putnam wants
to extend Wanda from four titles to ten."

Lois' eyes widened and her mouth went slack. "T-ten titles?
You're kidding, right?"

Impossibly, Brad's smile grew even larger. "I never kid about
such things. They want to increase your advance by thirty percent
and get you to commit to a total of ten Wanda mysteries in the
next twelve years." He pulled a contract out of the pile of
papers he was holding. "Here's a copy of the contract. As
usual, you'll want your lawyer to look it over before you put
your name on the dotted line. And as a bonus, I've negotiated a
nice perk for you."

She shook her head. "There's more? What's the perk?"

"You'll like this. You have the option to give them three
non-fiction titles of your choosing, subject to editorial review,
of course. And they know you're having another baby -- because I
practically screamed the news at them -- so you get a total of
one year of maternity slack in this schedule. If you want to
delay any title, you can, as long as no publication date has been
officially announced."

A monster grin grew on her face. "Brad, if I wasn't already
married, I think I'd kiss you!" She stood and shook his hand.
"Thank you so very much for all your hard work for me."

"Don't forget about my agent's commission, Lois. That's what
keeps me in business. Besides, you're a professional, and
you're very easy to work with. You wouldn't believe how some
writers turn into whining toddlers when they get one book in an
editor's hands, much less when they get a single volume
published."

"We've argued about things before."

"We have. But they've always been about the books or the
characters or the best way to style the writing, not about each
other. I wish a third of my clients could be more like you." He
poured himself a glass of orange juice. "If they were, I'd have
far less stress in my life, I wouldn't have chronic pre-ulcer
symptoms, and maybe this would be a screwdriver instead of the
pure stuff from Florida."

They shared a laugh, but it was a short one. Lois couldn't wait
to tell Clark her wonderful news.

***

Lois lay in the hospital bed, exhausted. This delivery had been
longer and harder than the first one, and she barely had the
strength to keep her eyes open. Bernie Klein and Burton Richards
had just left the room. Both doctors had smiled and congratulated
her on the birth of her beautiful baby girl. They had also told
her in no uncertain terms that she'd come close to total liver
failure over the previous two weeks. Both men had also insisted
that, since Superman couldn't have a vasectomy, she needed to
get her tubes tied.

She was going to use some of that maternity slack in her
publishing schedule after all.

Clark silently padded in and sat beside the bed. If he hadn't
blocked some of the dim light from the recessed wall fixtures,
she wouldn't have known he was there.

She reached in his direction. "Clark?" she croaked.

"I'm here, Lois. Your throat sounds dry. Would you like
something to drink?"

She nodded and he moved. She took a long blink and a small cup of
ice water materialized in front of her mouth. Her lips needed
only to open to accept the end of the straw.

A long sip later, she felt slightly better. "What did Burt and
Bernie tell you?"

He smiled. "That you're going to be okay in a couple of weeks,
and that our daughter is healthy and yelling her head off for her
mommy."

She smiled and took another long blink. "How's Jon doing?"

"He's fine. He's with your dad. I think our son might become a
doctor."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Don't you think
it's a bit early for him to decide that?"

"Your dad doesn't think so. He was grilling Jon on the central
nervous system when I left them."

Lois frowned. "Tell Daddy to stop that. Jon's not quite four
yet, too young to go to medical school."

Clark shrugged. "I will if you really want me to, but it wasn't
your dad's idea. It was Jon's. That boy can barely say
'medulla oblongata' but he can tell you where it is, how big it
is, and what it does." He bent down and kissed her forehead.
"Our son is a genius."

She smiled in spite of her exhaustion. "He takes after you."

"You, too. Of course, your father thinks Jon's brilliance is
from his grandparents on both sides. He and my dad are planning
to take Jon fishing and to a couple of museums while you're
recovering."

"Oh?" she breathed. "And who's taking care of little Marta
JoAnne?"

"Her grandmothers, of course. They're at the nursery window
drooling over her. They both keep picking out features they say
are from each other, and when my mom reminds your mom that I'm
adopted, your mom insists that I must have absorbed their DNA
through my mom's cooking. Marta couldn't be in better hands.
Unless those hands were yours, of course."

She reached out and entwined her fingers with his. "Thank you,
darling. How long do they say I'll be here?"

"Burton says three or four days, maybe one or two more. Bernie
agrees. They want to make sure your liver doesn't go on strike
again."

"Yuck. I don't want that either. Dialysis is four hours of no
fun at all and it doesn't take care of all the problems. It
hurts, too, no matter what they say."

He smiled and gently patted her arm. "Oh, I almost forgot. Brad
came by with the news that 'The Hawk Circles at Dusk' is number
twenty-one on the Planet's best-seller list and climbing fast.
He told me that your difficult pregnancy has helped boost Wanda
Detroit's sales, and that if you pull a publicity stunt like
this again he'll clobber you himself."

She almost laughed. "That's Brad. And that's good news. Did he
mention the Luthor biography? What do the editors at Putnam
think?"

"He said, so far so good, and he thinks they'll publish it as
soon as you can finish it."

She yawned. "Oh! It's pretty close to finished now, but
they're going to have to wait a bit. I want to enjoy my family
for several months, at least."

"Yeah." He averted his eyes for a long breath, then looked back
at her with a firm expression. "Burton and Bernie also said that
you need to slow down. Not just a little, either. Part of the
stress you put on your liver came from the on-site research you
did for Luthor's biography, and part of it from that other book
you're working on, the one about the fallen athletes and their
broken families. You have to dial it way back."

Her voice came out sharper than she'd intended. "That story
needs to be told, Clark. People need to know how devastating
drugs and alcohol and sudden wealth can be to the innocents
involved. If I can save one family from coming apart under that
stress, it'll be worth it."

Clark's eyes narrowed. "Not if we lose you."

She tried to compose a suitable response but realized she didn't
have the energy, so she decided to put off the discussion until
later. "Okay, fine, I'll slow down. But I'm the best judge of
how much I back off, not you."

He shrugged. "Maybe the rest of my news will be more
pleasant."

"Can't be much less pleasant."

She saw that her words hurt him, but he didn't pursue the
subject. "In addition to winning my third Kerth last month, I
have a new job. A new job title, actually. You are now married to
the online editor for the Daily Planet."

Her smile was genuine. "Really? Clark, that's wonderful! When
do you start? Officially, I mean."

"As soon as I get you back home and settled in with Marta. A
month, maybe less. Perry told me that technology changes, but the
truth doesn't, and that's what I'm going to put on my office
wall so all of my underlings can see it and fear me."

"Fear you?" she snorted. "You couldn't scare a mouse.
They'll walk all over you and you'll smile at them while they
do it."

"Not if I tell them that I'll send you to see them if they
don't behave."

She glared at him for a second, then grabbed her stomach and
laughed aloud.

He cleared his throat. "I have one more question for you, and
this is not me trying to make a decision for you, okay? I'm only
asking because I need to know."

She took another long sip of water and handed him the cup. "I'm
sorry. I'll treat it like a request for information which may or
may not generate follow-up questions."

His soft chuckle warmed her heart. "Thank you. Now, I know that
both Burton and Bernie suggested that you get your tubes tied
because mine are harder to snip. Have you had a chance to think
about that suggestion?"

"Yes. And I think it's a good idea. I already love little Marta
so much, and I wouldn't trade her or Jon for anything, but this
was really hard. And it hurt a lot more than the first
delivery."

"So, no more children for Clark Kent and Lois Lane?"

She hunted for his hand with hers and found it. "I think we've
gotten our quota of joy, don't you?"

He lifted her hand to his lips and held it there for a long kiss.
"I didn't think I could be happier than the day we married. But
now we have two wonderful, beautiful children, and you did such a
great job bringing them into the world. I doubt that any man
could ever be more blessed than I am right now."

She felt sleep tugging at her mind, but she fought it off for the
moment. "Even with all the wonderful things Superman can do,
that's what you treasure the most, isn't it? Having a family.
Loving and being loved. You were right."

"About what?"

The call of the land of Nod was irresistible now, but she needed
to say one more thing. "When you told me that Superman was what
you do but Clark Kent was who you are." A deep breath escaped
and she could barely form the next words. "And I love who you
are."

The world faded away. As if from a great distance, Clark's voice
came to her ears. "And I love you too, Lois."

"We're -- we're making some -- some great moments, aren't
we?"

"Wonderful ones. Simply wonderful. Moments that make up a great
life."

She drifted off wearing a soft smile.

***

Just before Marta turned five, Perry finally retired for good.
Clark slipped into the general editor's chair as if he'd been
born to it. Even though his management style was softer and
gentler than Perry's thunder and bluster, he got similar
results. Of course, he always had the threat of a visit from the
Mad Dog in his back pocket.

Jimmy, who had become the Planet's Chief Information Technology
Officer, married one of the Planet's staff writers and settled
down into domesticity as if born to it. Darla Peters-Olsen had
proven herself to be a solid reporter and an excellent wife,
keeping Jimmy on the straight and narrow and guiding him to
handle their money like a pro. Jimmy even took over the Kents'
retirement planning, and all of them grew their net worth as if
it were kudzu. Neither the Kents nor the Olsens were
mind-bogglingly rich, but neither would they lack for material
goods. And the two couples became fast friends.

Unlikely as it had seemed when Clark and Lois first met, Lucy
became a Tony-nominated stage actress who built a reputation for
being on time, always knowing her lines, working well with other
actors and most directors, and never being a diva. She
accomplished the difficult feat of separating her job from her
life, and she never appeared on any of the celebrity ambush shows
or the police blotter. Jimmy also took over handling her
finances, and before she was thirty she was a millionaire.

***

Lois walked in the front door from her latest book signing tour
and wondered where the family was. "Hello?" she called.

Ten-year-old Jon appeared on the upstairs landing and waved to
her. "Hi, Mom! I'm glad you're home!" He bounded down the
stairs and jumped at her as if to hug her, but then he stopped
and slowly floated to the floor.

Her jaw hit her chest and she dropped her suit bag. "Jon! You --
you're flying!"

His grin widened until it almost split his face. "Not quite.
It's more like falling in slow motion." He jumped up and spun
half a dozen times as he floated back down. "Or falling with
style."

She laughed. "That's wonderful! I'm sure your father is
thrilled."

He grimaced at her. "Not so much, really. You should have heard
all the rules he laid down for me."

She reached out and embraced her son, then kissed his forehead.
"They're for your own good and you know it. Speaking of your
father, where is he?"

Jon motioned with his head. "He's upstairs with Mart. She's
all broken up about a grade she got on a test."

"Really? Why? Are you sure it's the grade, or is she feeling
like the baby in the class again?"

"No, Mom, it's not because she's two years younger than any of
her classmates. Besides, you know I'd take care of it if any of
them were to pick on her."

"Okay, I'll go check it out. But how hard can a third-grade
test be?"

"You'll have to talk to her about it. And remember that she's
just seven."

"Almost eight, remember?"

"Go on up, Mom. My sister needs her mommy."

Lois nodded and walked up the steps. She was tired and hungry and
so very glad to be home, but she missed her family and Brad was
going to have to cut back on the signings. She understood going
to Los Angeles and Dallas and Chicago, but some of those cities
weren't big enough to justify her time and effort. Of course,
Brad was right when he told her that the smaller cities rarely
got famous authors on their tours, so she was picking the
low-hanging fruit whenever she went to Lawton, Oklahoma, or
Minot, North Dakota, or Burns, Oregon. Every one of the stores in
the smaller towns had sold out of their current stock of 'Track
of the Snowbird,' Wanda's seventh adventure, and only one
hadn't sold out of all the copies of her previous books as
well.

She reached the top of the stairs and felt unusually out of
breath. She was probably extra tired because of the book signing
trip, she thought. Maybe she should tell Burton about it.

Or maybe not. She didn't want him to worry about her too much.

As she approached Marta's room, she heard the girl's soft sobs
and the low hum of her husband's voice. She pushed the door open
and stood there for a long moment, just watching her husband hold
their young daughter in his lap and drinking in the sight.

She was so tired. And hungry. And so desperately glad to be
home.

But couldn't rest just yet. It was time to be Mom again.

"Hi," she whispered. She knew Clark would hear her but was
surprised when Marta jumped up, ran to her, and plastered herself
to Lois' legs.

"Momma, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'll do better, I
promise!"

Lois peeled Marta off her slacks and knelt down in front of her.
"Baby girl, what's wrong? What happened?"

Between sobs, Marta said, "I -- I took a test and -- and it was
world history and -- I got mixed up on when the French Revolution
happened and -- and I missed a question and got a 95!" She threw
herself into her mother's arms and held on for dear life. "Oh,
Momma, I'm so sorry!"

Lois gently pulled her back to look at Marta's face. "Honey,
you got a 95 on a test? That's wonderful! You did very well! You
have no reason to be sorry. So why are you crying?"

"Be-because I -- I wanted to make you p-proud of me! And I
didn't!"

Lois slowly knelt and enfolded Marta in her arms. "Baby girl,
did you do your very best?"

"Yes, Momma."

"Did you study hard?"

"I studied with Daddy and I got everything right but I got mixed
up and--"

"Shh, shh." Lois stroked her soft blonde hair and signaled
Clark for a handkerchief. "Let's dry your eyes and get you to
stop crying because you didn't do anything wrong. In fact, I'm
very proud of you."

Marta stared at her mother with unbelieving eyes. "But -- but I
didn't get a hundred percent! How can you be proud of me if I
don't get a hundred percent? Grandpa Lane says he's proud of
Jon when he gets a hundred percent!"

"Oh, sweetie, I've always been proud of you! And I always will
be. You don't have to do anything to get me to be proud of you
or to love you. You're my very bestest little girl in the whole
universe and I will always love you and be proud of you."

"But -- I don't understand. Jon always gets hundreds on his
tests and you and Daddy always tell him how proud you are of
him."

"We are proud of him. We're proud of both of you. But we're
not proud of you because of the grades you get. We're proud of
you because you're doing your best." She pulled Marta's hair
away from her face and dabbed at the girl's eyes. "If you did
your very, very best, you studied hard and worked hard, and you
got a 75, we'd still be proud of you."

"What? How could you be proud of a 75?"

Lois smiled and kissed Marta's nose. "Because if that happened
we'd know we were pushing you too hard and trying to get you to
do things you weren't ready to do. That would make it our fault,
not yours. You have to remember that you're two years ahead of
everyone else your age, and you're in the advanced section of
your class. You're doing so well that you're almost perfect.
Hey, did anyone get a hundred on the test?"

Marta's tears had stopped and she took the handkerchief to blow
her nose. "No. Sue Lin and I both got 95s and nobody beat us.
And we missed different questions."

"See? You're in a difficult class, working hard and doing very
well, and your father and I are proud of you."

She almost smiled. "Daddy already told me that."

"You should have believed him."

"Yeah, but you know Daddy. He always makes everything sound
positive. You tell the truth even when it hurts." Marta's
expression suddenly changed and she grabbed Lois' shoulders.
"Momma, you need to lie down. Right now."

"What for? I still have to greet your father and get unpacked
and take a shower and--"

"No, Momma! You have to lie down! Daddy, come help her!"

Lois would have protested further, but she noticed that the edges
of her vision were graying out and Marta's voice had moved far
away from her. It was easier to let Clark pick her up and lay her
on Marta's bed than to push him away and tell him she was fine.

The next thing she saw was her husband leaning over her face,
gazing into her eyes with some real fear in his. She put her
hands up to push him away, but he caught and held them. "Don't
try to get up, Lois. Marta went to get a glass of water."

"Okay. Can I sit up when she gets back?"

"I don't know--"

"Momma's fine now, Daddy. She just needed to faint. Here's
your water."

Lois couldn't remember "needing to faint" before, but
apparently Marta was right. Her vision and hearing were back to
normal already. "Let me sit up, Clark. I don't want to spill
that water all over myself."

She drank half the glass, paused to take a deep breath, then
finished it. "Thank you, baby girl. I feel much better now."

"Good. You need to go to sleep soon. And don't get up to see us
off to school tomorrow. You need your rest."

Lois glared at Marta. "We're getting a little bossy, aren't
we?"

"No. I just know that's what you need." She gently hugged her
mother and kissed her on the nose. "And I understand what you
meant. You're telling me I don't have to be perfect for you to
love me."

The glare softened to a warm smile. "That's exactly right, baby
girl." Lois ruffled Marta's hair. "Hey, how did you know I was
about to faint? I thought your brother was going to be the doctor
in the family."

"He is. But I just knew."

"How did you know?"

"I just knew in my head. Something told me you were going to
faint."

Lois glanced over her head at Clark, who shrugged as if puzzled.

Clark leaned close and hugged both Lois and Marta. "You know,
it's getting late, and it's about time my two favorite girls in
all the world went to sleep. I'm going to take Mommy to our room
and get her tucked into bed, then come back and make sure my
favorite third-grader gets all the sweet dreams she can handle.
Marta, how about you give your mother her goodnight hug and kiss
now?"

Clark's "girls" embraced tightly. "Momma, can I ask you
something?"

"Of course, baby girl. What is it?"

Marta pulled back and looked into her mother's eyes. "I don't
want you to get upset, and I know you're doing it because you
love me, but can you not call me 'baby girl' from now on? I'm
almost eight and I'm getting kinda too big for a baby name."

A wave of emotion broke over Lois' heart. It was a roiling stew
of thrill and pride and sadness, along with the recognition that
her little girl was starting to grow up. She'd known it would
happen someday, but she wasn't ready for it.

She steeled herself and smiled. "Of course, Marta. What do you
want me to call you?"

Marta's face twisted into a very adult frown. "I'm not sure.
I'll have to think about it and get back to you." She wrapped
her still-young arms around her mother's neck. "Good night,
Mom. Get some good sleep."

Clark swept Lois up in his arms and kissed her on the forehead.
"I'll carry you to bed."

"Oh, I love a man with a smooth line and big muscles."

Marta made a gagging noise and grumped, "If Daddy wasn't
already taking you to bed, Mom, I'd ask you two to get a
room."

"You're just jealous because I have such a good husband."

"Yeah, well my daddy is the best daddy in the whole world!"

Lois laughed at the old banter. "Can't argue with that. I'll
see you tomorrow when you get home from school, big girl."

"Okay, Mom. Good night."

As Clark pushed the bedroom door open, he smiled at Lois. "This
was a good mommy moment for you, honey."

"No." She shook her head and stroked his hair. "It was a good
moment for all of us."

He laid her atop the comforter and slipped her shoes off. "I
agree, but the moment I need now is the one where I watch you
fall asleep and wake up tomorrow all refreshed and ready to sleep
some more."

She chuckled. "You drive a hard bargain, mister, but I'll take
that deal. Will you bring me my yellow PJs?"

"Of course. And I'll help you change into them, too."

She reached out to run her hand over his chest. "How about you
wake me up tomorrow morning and help me change out of them
then?"

"That's a deal, as long as we make that an early afternoon
appointment. I want you to rest. And I don't want you working on
anything for the next twenty-four hours, okay?"

She sat up to unbutton her blouse. "You're a cruel taskmaster
and a mean old man. I'll do it, but only because you asked so
nicely. Wait, that won't interfere with the Planet, will it?"

"As long as no one declares nuclear war, Superman is taking the
next two days off. And Clark Kent is working from home. I've
already alerted Clyde and Bonnie that they're in charge until
Thursday."

She shivered. "I still can't get past those names. They give me
the chills every time I hear them."

He grinned and unfolded her pajama top. "I'm sure the Bennetts
and the Powells didn't intend to make us uncomfortable. Clyde
Bennett and Bonnie Powell are both hard-working, dedicated,
skilled, and happily married to other people. And we don't have
any Depression-era Ford roadsters parked at the paper."

"Good. Now if you'll help me get these slacks off, I'll go
brush my teeth and get in bed like a good little girl."

"There's a first time for everything, I guess."

She stopped and gave him a seductive smile. "Put a bookmark in
it, Farm Boy. I'll be here all week."

He bent down to kiss her gently. "And I'll be here as long as I
live." After another kiss, he whispered, "That's not a
contest, it's a promise."

Sudden tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. "I know. I
love you, Clark Kent."

He helped her stand, then wrapped his still-massive arms around
her. "I know. I love you too, Lois Lane-Kent."

She hoped the dreams she knew she'd have tonight would approach
the reality of their time together tomorrow.

***

>>> Chapter Nine

By the time Wanda's fifth adventure was published, it was an
extended family ritual to spend the Thanksgiving weekend with
Clark and Lois. Both the Kents and the Lanes, Lucy included, made
times in their schedules to visit, eat, watch football, talk,
laugh, and catch up on each other's lives. Despite the
difference in temperament and their diverse interests, Jonathan
Kent and Sam Lane had become good friends. Each man learned from
the trials and tribulations of the other, Martha and Ellen grew
close as fellow Grannies, and over the years the quick animosity
between Sam and Ellen that for so long had seethed just below the
surface faded away. Lois sometimes wondered if her own injuries
had contributed to that reconciliation, and if so, how much.

If they had, she always came down on the side of 'good coming
from bad.' The prayer that the surgical nurse had shared with
Clark the day she'd been shot bubbled up in her memory at such
times, and she would offer up her own silent -- and sometimes not
so silent -- prayer of thanks for the good.

The only thing that produced friction in the family on a regular
basis was Lois' penchant for getting in trouble when she was
investigating something. She was doing background research for
her latest Wanda Detroit novel by riding with a patrol officer
and got caught in a crossfire after a simple traffic stop. She
wasn't hit by any bullets, but one round smashed into the
pavement in front of her and kicked dirt and metal fragments into
her leg. That necessitated a four-day hospital stay and some
physical therapy to regain strength and flexibility once she'd
healed.

Once she was interviewing an athlete's ex-wife for one of her
non-fiction books and the ex-husband, jacked up on meth, took
Lois, the ex-wife, and two small children hostage for several
hours until Superman got tired of waiting and swooped in to save
her. Following that incident was another lengthy argument between
Clark and Lois on the dangers of being too involved with her
research.

When she was doing background research for her Lex Luthor book,
she was kidnapped by yet another child of Luthor's, this one a
daughter who insisted she was Lois' child by Lex. Lois got out
of that one by herself and made certain the girl got quality
psychiatric care. But Jon and Marta both alternately tearfully
hugged and yelled at her for exposing herself to such danger as
Clark stood back, frowning silently and watching with his arms
crossed.

And every time one of those incidents took place, Clark insisted
more vehemently that Lois slow down and back off. All it made her
do was dig in her heels even deeper.

As it had to, the breaking point finally came.

***

When Lois walked through the front door of the house after yet
another three-day hospital stay following yet another brush with
violent criminals, she expected a raucous welcome from her
children. Instead she got silence. Neither of them got up from
the kitchen table where they were doing their homework. She
turned to Clark and lifted her eyebrows to silently ask what was
going on, but he refused to make eye contact.

Always take the initiative, she told herself. "Marta, honey, we
need to start planning your birthday party. It's not every year
my little girl turns nine."

Marta tolerated her mother's hug and started on the next
arithmetic problem. "We've got almost three months, Mother. I
think we can get the job done in time as long as you don't get
yourself killed first."

Clark's sharp but quiet "Marta!" ended the conversation.

The girl's cold tone stunned Lois. She looked at Jon, but he
didn't lift his eyes from his reading, nor did he comment. He
couldn't have shut her out more convincingly had he given her a
"talk to the hand" gesture. Lois felt her insides constrict.

She stood and followed Clark up the stairs to their bedroom. He
dropped her suitcase on the bed, flipped it open, pulled out her
clothes and piled them on the comforter. They didn't look at
each other as Clark picked up the suitcase and moved to put it
away.

She put her hand on the small stack of clothing and quietly said,
"Welcome home, Lois. I'm glad you're okay. I'm glad you got
the story, too. You did a great job. Perry would have been
proud."

A sharp crack interrupted her sarcastic monologue. She spun and
saw her husband standing in front of the closet, holding the top
of her hard-shelled suitcase in one hand and the bottom in the
other.

He'd snapped it in two.

He didn't look at her as he spoke. Through gritted teeth, he
said, "Don't start that, Lois. I won't listen to you try to
justify what you did. You violated our agreement and you know
it."

"I found out who was kidnapping homeless people and why. The
police arrested them. They won't be killing people while running
illegal experiments to go around the FDA approval process any
longer."

He dropped the pieces of suitcase and turned to face her.
"Wonderful. Great. You broke the story. You get a prize. You
might even get a Kerth out of it." He took two deliberate
strides closer. "But you also broke your word to me. You told me
you would stop doing fieldwork. You promised the kids that you'd
never do the dirty work on any investigation again." He leaned
down into her face. "And the worst thing of all was that you
involved Marta! I never would have found you in time if she
hadn't led me to you! And she saw you tied to that chair, all
beat up and bloody and groaning! I thought you were dying and our
daughter saw you like that!"

"That's the risk every investigator takes--"

"You're not supposed to take that risk! You're not even
supposed to be an investigator anymore! You're supposed to be a
wife and a mother and then a writer! You're not supposed to be
found dead in some basement because you stuck your neck out too
far and someone chopped your head off!"

"I'm fine now--"

"You know they were going to kill you, don't you? There was a
syringe on the dresser ready to inject potassium chloride into
your arm! I could take you dying if I had to, Lois, but it's not
just us! We're a family! We have children! You can't take those
kinds of risks anymore!"

"This was an important story--"

"NO!" he bellowed. "The STORY is NOT--" He stopped and forced
himself back under control. Lois was shocked to see the effort on
his face and in his shoulders.

He straightened and moved back a half-step. "The story is not as
important as you being a wife and mother. If I weren't Superman
you'd be dead right now and I'd have to raise Jon and Marta by
myself. If you and Marta didn't have that empathic link, or
whatever it is, I couldn't have found you in time. And we would
have spent months, if not years, wondering where you were or if
you were even alive, and all that time you'd have been buried in
the basement of some abandoned house in southeast
Pennsylvania."

Lois had always known the danger she'd been in, but for the
first time she began to understand -- and most importantly, to
admit -- the impact of what she'd done, the terror she'd
instilled in the hearts of the people she loved the most. She
backed up and sat down on the bed, then put her head in her hands
and began to cry.

Clark put his hands in his pockets and stood where he was. "I
love you, Lois," he said, more gently than before. "But you're
over forty now and fifty will be here before you know it. You
don't move as well as you used to. You don't hit as hard as you
used to. You don't recover as quickly as you did when you were
twenty-seven. And you saw the steam coming out of Burton's ears.
You put a lot of stress on your body, and he was afraid your
liver was going to fail."

He finally sat beside her but didn't touch her. "Do you
remember your interview last year with Richard Carpenter? He told
you that he understood that Karen's anorexia was what ultimately
killed her. He said he accepted that anorexia nervosa is a
disease and not a lifestyle choice and that she didn't
deliberately die so she could leave him. But he also told you
that he was still angry at his sister for starving herself to
death and robbing him of her talent, her ability, her love, and
her presence. That's kind of what I've been feeling over the
past three days. I know you wouldn't deliberately choose to die
and leave us. But if you don't slow down, if you don't back
away from these situations, that's essentially what you're
going to do. You're going to leave us."

He reached out and enveloped his weeping bride in his arms. "And
I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay around for a long,
long time. I want you to see our son become a successful doctor
with a family of his own. I want you to see our daughter become a
teacher, maybe a college professor or maybe even president of a
big school, or do something else and be wonderfully successful,
and get married and have her own family. I want you to bounce our
grandchildren on your knees and laugh when they pee on your
leg."

She laughed and sobbed at the same time, then nodded. "I -- I
want that too!"

He hugged her tighter. "Then you have to make a choice and leave
the dangerous stuff to the younger reporters. Please, Lois." He
kissed her on the cheek. "Please?"

Her eyes caught his and held them. "Yes. I promise. No more
being stupid. No more field work, no more hands-on investigations
for me. Not ever." She shifted her arms around him. "I don't
want to miss any more moments with you."

And this time she kept her word.

***

No family is without conflict or misunderstandings or
miscommunications, but aside from Lois' trouble magnetism, the
Kent-Lane clan seemed to manage with far fewer hiccups than any
other family they knew. Lois and Clark learned to move in high
society, not just in Metropolis but all over the nation. Lois
appeared on half a dozen late-night talk shows to push her books.
Clark put out a best-selling book of his own containing a
selected number of the editorials he'd written since he'd
replaced Perry. Lucy Lane, who had become a multiple
Tony-nominated Broadway actress, publicly credited her sister's
family with keeping her grounded and aware of reality outside the
artificial world of the theater.

Life had come to treat Clark's family very well. And every once
in a while, he would recall the prayer the nurse had shared with
him that night at the hospital when Lois had almost died.

***

Clark and Lois sat down with the principal of Jon's high school,
wondering why Mrs. Jameson had called them in to talk. Surely Jon
wasn't creating a problem in class!

Instead of sitting behind her desk, Mrs. Jameson seated all three
of them around a small table to one side of her office. "I'm
sure you're wondering why you're here, Mr. and Mrs. Kent. Let
me assure you that there are no problems concerning Jon or his
schoolwork. In fact, he may be the best student we've ever had
at Harding Memorial High School. I wish we had several dozen more
just like him."

Clark nodded. "That's good to hear."

"But -- and you had to know there was one somewhere -- Jon is so
smart and so accomplished that we're running out of things to
teach him. We project that by the middle of his junior year of
high school, he will have passed every science course which we
are accredited to teach, and if he keeps up with his extra
studies he'll have enough credits to graduate a year early. We
have to come up with a game plan to keep him scholastically
engaged and on track for college."

She paused as Lois put her hand to her mouth and burped. "I
apologize. It must have been something I ate that's disagreeing
with me."

Mrs. Jameson smiled. "I understand. I wouldn't want you to talk
to my doctor about my digestion. The stress in this job combined
with my poor eating habits makes her a little bit crazy about my
health."

"We're sorry that Jon is contributing to that stress."

"Oh, please, Mr. Kent! We don't get many positive problems like
his. I wish every student presented us the same kinds of choices
to make for his future. You two have done a bang-up job raising
him so far."

"He just turned twelve a few months ago. My friends keep telling
me that the hardest part is coming up."

"Oh, they're right, it is. But I think you won't have a lot of
the same problems with Jon that other parents of teen boys have
had. Your son has taken the best character traits of both of you
and worked hard to become a fine young man, and he's quite
fortunate that he's had such good role models."

"So, at the risk of being rude, why are we here?"

"Because, Mrs. Kent, we need to help Jon succeed. And I believe
the best way to do that is to get him into the pre-med program at
New Troy State. It's fairly close, the tuition is as reasonable
as tuition can be these days, and they're willing to let him
enroll part-time using a program for new doctors. I think it's
our optimum solution, but of course I can't make the decision
for him. Or for the two of you."

Clark goggled at her. "You mean you want him to start his
pre-med program now?"

"Now? Oh, no, I'm sorry! I was not speaking clearly. The
program wouldn't take Jon until the beginning of his junior
year, and because of legal requirements he couldn't take some of
the advanced labs until he reaches his sixteenth birthday, but if
he does as well as I think he will, he'll graduate from high
school as a college sophomore. Maybe even a junior, if he pushes
hard enough."

"Is that what you want him to do?" snapped Lois. "Is he going
to be a trophy on your wall, something you can point at and gloat
about to the other principals?"

Mrs. Jameson's face fell. "Not at all, Mrs. Kent. No, please,
that's not what I meant at all. I assure you, I'm doing this so
Jon will succeed in his career and in his life. After all, he's
doing this for you."

Lois' own face lost all expression. "Wh-what?"

"I'm sorry. I thought you already knew."

"Knew what, Mrs. Jameson?" Clark asked softly.

The older woman sighed in resignation. "That his ambition to be
a doctor is partly -- perhaps even largely -- fueled by his
desire to help his mother. He told me last spring that you have a
liver that isn't working as well as it should, and that his goal
is to find a cure for you."

Clark and Lois turned and stared open-mouthed at each other.
"Lois, believe me when I say that I had no idea."

Lois shook her head. "It's okay, honey, neither did I." She
turned to her son's principal. "Mrs. Jameson, could you do us a
huge favor? Whatever else comes out of this meeting concerning
Jon's future, please don't let him know what you just told
us."

"Of course not. I apologize for breaching his privacy. If I'd
had any idea--"

"You wouldn't have told us, I know," Clark said. "But that's
behind us now. And I think it's a good thing that we know. It
will help us when we suggest this course of study to him."

"Thank you for your understanding. I think I've--"

Lois burped again, louder this time, and took several quick
breaths to steady herself. Mrs. Jameson leaned forward. "Mrs.
Kent, are you unwell? If you need to use the ladies' room, it's
through the hallway door and two doors down on your left."

Lois swallowed and sat up straight. "I don't know. I haven't
felt like this for years."

"I think we've covered everything, unless either of you have
any questions for me. No?" Mrs. Jameson stood and shook hands
with both of them. "You two have important things to do, and I
have a school to run. Thank you both for coming in on such short
notice. And thank you for being so understanding."

Clark stood and helped Lois to her feet. "Come on, honey, let's
go home. I think you need some antacids and some rest."

"Y-yes. I think you're right. Mrs. Jameson, thank you for all
the nice things you said about Jon. We're very proud of him."

"As well you should be. I anticipate meeting his sister before
much longer, too."

Lois turned to leave, then grabbed her stomach with one hand and
Clark's arm with the other. "Oh, wow. That's just weird."

Mrs. Jameson moved to her other side. "At the risk of being
indelicate again, Mrs. Kent, is there any possibility that
you're pregnant?"

Lois shook her head. "Uh-uh. I had my tubes tied after Marta was
born."

"Well, I had mine tied after my third child. It didn't stop me
from having twins six years later." As she saw the alarmed faces
of her visitors, she added, "Sometimes they heal by
themselves."

Lois turned to her husband. "Do you think--"

"It's your stomach," he replied.

Said stomach suddenly lurched again and Lois covered her mouth
with her free hand. "Bathroom! Now!"

***

"Okay, Dad, what's for dinner?" Jonathan looked around the
table and saw his sister and mother already in their seats.
"Maybe I should ask 'where's dinner?'"

His father pulled Jon's chair out and said, "We need to have a
family council first, son."

Jon didn't move. "Is there a problem?"

His mother smiled. "No, son, there's no problem. We just need
to talk with both of you."

Jon nodded. "Okay." He put his book satchel down against the
wall and cautiously sat.

Mom took a deep breath and let it out. Then she looked at Dad.
Jon got the impression that she was slightly embarrassed, but he
couldn't think of any reason that would be.

His sister put her hands out palms up and said, "If we're going
to talk, let's talk!"

His parents laughed. "Okay, kids," said Dad, "here it is. Your
mother is going to have another baby."

"What!" Jon burst out.

"Mom!" Marta wailed.

"Hey! Your father had something to do with it!"

"Another baby? Do you know what the kids on my class are going
to say? I can't go back to school now!"

Dad put his hand on Marta's shoulder. "Honey, it isn't that
bad. A lot of your classmates have younger siblings. You--"

"Yes it is that bad! You don't know how much they're going to
tease me now! 'The baby has a baby sister!' 'Hey, shrimp,
don't your parents know what causes that?' I might as well move
to Smallville with Grandpa and Grandma Kent!"

Jon's mother tried to look stern, but Marta's outburst was
making her want to laugh, and his dad's stunned expression
wasn't helping. And Jon understood. He wanted to crawl under his
bed and hide, or tell his classmates that his parents had found
the new child under a cabbage leaf.

He felt his face heating up, but he couldn't talk yet. He'd
read enough medical texts to know where this new baby had come
from. The fact that he and Marta had arrived via the same process
didn't bear thinking about.

Marta folded her arms together on the table and dropped her face
down atop them, then breathed out something inarticulate which
conveyed her exasperation, her shame, and her perplexity. Her
voice was muffled against the table, but he still heard her
groan, "I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead! Somebody bury me
now!"

His mom reached over and started rubbing Marta's back.
"Sweetheart, I know this is a shock to both of you, but think of
the shock your father and I had. We didn't think we were going
to have any more children."

Like tumblers in a lock, Jon understood what had happened.
"Dad's aura healed your Fallopian tubes, didn't it? Isn't
that what Dr. Richards said?" He turned to his father. "You
just had to be Superman, didn't you? You just had to make her
all better when she was just fine the way she was!"

His father's mouth dropped open. "Jon, you don't--"

"If it weren't for you being Superman she'd be fine! Her liver
would never--"

His mother's hands slapped the table and she snapped, "That's
enough!"

"But Mom, he--"

"I said 'Enough!' I will not allow my son to attack his father
for being the best man alive! If you weren't Superman's son you
wouldn't be here to make such idiotic accusations!"

Jon knew he wasn't an idiot. His parents knew it, too. Even
Marta knew it, although she'd never admit it. So this was the
first time ever that his mother had implied that he wasn't a
genius, or at least close to it.

He tried to think of a response, but nothing came to him that
didn't risk more of Mom's anger directed at him. So he shut his
mouth and leaned back to sulk.

His mother nodded once. "Now I can finish. Yes, your father's
powers obviously healed my tubes, even when we didn't want them
to. And yes, we're going to have another baby. But because I'm
older now than I was when I had you two, I'm going to need your
help with a bunch of things."

"Like what?" Marta asked.

Mom smiled at her. "Like the laundry, the dry cleaning, the
dishes, the grocery shopping, the cooking, cleaning up around the
house--"

"But Dad already does a bunch of that. And so do Jon and I. Not
all of it, sure, but we do a lot of stuff."

"That's true, sweetie, but he's going to need some help. My
doctors want me to do a whole lot of sitting and waiting for this
baby to get here. So I'm going to do a lot of writing and make a
lot of phone calls and sleeping and going to appointments.
That's why my favorite frame rocking chair is in the front room
now. I want to be with my family as much as possible while I
nurture this new child. Oh, and I've picked out a new baby
doctor. Jon, I know you'll want to check her out, so look up
Evelyn Marshall. She's a qualified OB-GYN and pediatric surgeon,
and I trust her."

"I'll check her out, Mom."

His mother chuckled. "Just remember that I already have and I
approve of her. Now, let's talk about names for this new baby.
Your father and I will take just about any questions or
suggestions. Reasonable ones, anyway."

Marta sat back and crossed her arms, but Jon leaned forward.
"Dad, do you want a son or a daughter?"

Clark smiled and put his hand on his son's shoulder. "It
doesn't matter to me, Son. I just want our new baby to be
healthy."

"It matters to me, Dad. If Mom has a boy, we'll be in the
majority, but if she has a girl we'll have to swim against the
estrogen tide. Ow!"

"And I'll kick you again the next time you smart off like that
too!" snapped Marta.

Clark gently put his other hand on his daughter's upper arm.
"That's enough of that, both of you. This is a peaceful family
conference, not a combat zone."

"She caught me right under the kneecap, Dad!"

"And you're going to drop it because your sister is going to
apologize. Aren't you, Marta?"

The girl turned her head to the side away from her dad. After a
long moment, he tugged lightly on her arm. "Come on, honey, your
brother's waiting."

Marta slowly turned and glowered at her brother for a few
seconds, then said, "I'm sorry you're such a donkey's
butt--"

"Marta."

"Okay, Dad. Jon, I'm sorry you're insensitive and sexist
and--"

"Wrong again, Marta. Come on, do it right."

"Will you please let me go, Dad?"

"When you apologize and not one second before. I don't want to
have to chase you through the house again."

"Grrr. Okay. Jon, I'm sorry I kicked you in the knee."

Dad released her. "Jon?"

"Accepted. Now can we get back to my question?"

Mom chuckled. "That's already decided, Jon, and you know it.
Now, can we discuss potential baby names?"

Both kids creased their faces in thought, then Jon said, "How
about Julia Halle Jennifer Elizabeth Amanda Zoe Emma Caroline?"

Marta giggled. "And her nickname will be Pumpkin Blossom!"

Jon watched as his father fought off a smile of his own, then
said, "Come on, let's be a little bit serious, okay?"

Marta nodded. "Okay. I have a unisex name. Is that okay?"

Mom nodded. "It's fine for a suggestion. What is it?"

Her eyes brightened, but before Jon could cut off what he knew
was about to be an inspired but very impish evil thought, she
said, "We'll call the baby 'Oops'!"

Just as Jon knew they would, his parents exploded into laughter.
Marta caught his eye and winked, and he knew they'd be okay.

***

"Jon, I'm not sure your parents would approve of you seeing me
in my office without them. And I don't think it's appropriate
for you to see me professionally without their consent."

"Probably not, Dr. Richards, but they tend to filter the medical
stuff for me. I want to hear it from the expert."

"Flattery will get you nowhere with me, young man. I absolutely
do NOT want either of your parents coming to see me and asking
for an explanation I cannot give."

"All right. How about if I make some statements which may or may
not be true? Then you can let me know if I'm right or wrong."

"Jonathan Samuel Kent, I will not be a party to your end run
around your parents. Besides, I have no doubt that you will
simply repeat anything I might tell you to your sister, and I
refuse to alarm either of you without a very good reason."

"Okay, I'll start. Mom's Fallopian tubes healed because of
Dad's aura."

"Hmm."

"I'll take that as a 'yes.' Dad's aura isn't healing her
liver."

"Hmm."

"Hey, we're going for a record. Next question, once again
cleverly disguised as a statement: Mom can't tolerate a
transplant or you would have tried it by now, and I'm guessing
it's at least partly because Dad's aura would increase the
rejection factor by suppressing any anti-rejection drug
therapy."

"You've been studying more than you should."

"Three for three, we're on a roll."

"Or a biscuit."

"With butter and sour cream, if you like. Next statement. Mom's
liver isn't going to get better by itself, again probably
because of Dad's aura."

"Now where did you come up with that one?"

"My mother taught me to do research on the web, and my father
taught me to put those facts together in a logical order. Do I
get another 'hmm'?"

"You get a free ride home."

"Before you toss me out on my ear, let me hit you with one more.
All this is theory and speculation. None of it is fact. And it's
the kind of thing that you might refer to as 'unknowable' if
you weren't personally involved with the patients."

"Jon, I'm only going to tell you this once. Your mother's
liver is, as you well know, weaker than it might be -- no, weaker
than it should be. Extreme stresses can damage a weakened liver.
You already knew all that, so I'm telling no tales out of
school. But I'm going to do my dead level best to make sure
nothing happens to her and that you and Marta grow up with a mom
and not a memory."

"Why can't you clone her liver? Because of Dad's aura, at
least partly? Or is that in the land of dragons also?"

"Where did you hear -- you sneaky little hacker! You broke into
my notes! Do you have any idea how much legal trouble you could
get into? Not to mention what your parents will do to you!"

"It was Dr. Klein's work computer, actually, but I'm right, am
I not?"

"Go home, Jon! And the next time you try to hack either one of
us, you'll find a firewall from James Olsen bristling with angry
Orcs! Get through that if you can!"

***

Jon finished his explanation and waited for his sister to react.
He didn't usually allow her in his room, but this was a special
circumstance. Marta hugged herself and looked at the floor. "I
want to ask you what all that means but I'm too scared."

Jon wrapped his arms around her and pulled her head to his
shoulder. "I know, Mart, I'm a little scared too. But I wanted
to know everything I could know about Mom."

"Does all that mean that she -- she's gonna -- gonna -- die?"

He tightened his grip. "I don't know. But I think we should be
prepared for it."

She sobbed. "And how -- how am I -- supposed to -- do that?"

He rubbed her back. "I don't know. Just -- just don't be too
surprised if it happens, I guess. And if it doesn't, then it
doesn't." He dropped a kiss her hair. "And you keep that link
thing going with Mom, okay? I want us to be there if -- if she
needs us."

Marta sobbed again. "I don't want to see her die! I don't!"

"Shh, it's okay. I know. And she's not dying tonight, Mart. We
have at least a few months left with her, and maybe lots of
years."

"I did all my chores. I even got dinner stuff out for us."

"You did great, Mart. If I have to be saddled with a sister,
I'm glad it's you."

She leaned back and smiled through damp eyes. "Yeah, well, as a
brother, you're not completely intolerable yourself."

"Thanks. You know, even if the worst happens, we'll still have
Dad and Grandma Ellen and Grandpa Sam and Aunt Lucy and Grandpa
and Grandma Kent. They're not going anywhere."

"True dat," she sniffed. "And we'd have to take care of Dad,
too. He's helpless without Mom."

"Mmm, maybe not totally helpless, but close to it."

The siblings shared a quiet laugh, then Marta said, "Hey, how
about you and me having an argument tonight? Mom and Dad should
feel needed."

"Yeah, they're about ready for it. Just let me pick the subject
this time."

"My figure is off-limits!"

"Then so is my facial hair."

"What facial hair? Mom and Dad should have named you
'Peach'!"

Jon picked up a pillow and hit her in the face with it. She
jumped on him and started pulling his ears away from his head. He
responded by tickling her in the ribs. She chopped her elbows
down onto his fingers just as their martial arts instructor had
taught her. He snatched his hands back, then grabbed her by the
hair and pulled her down on the floor on top of him. She landed
with her knee in his stomach.

"Ow!" "Leggo!" "You leggo!" "No tickling!" "You started
it!" "No, you did!" "Get off my knee!" "Let go of my
hair!" "I'm telling Mom!"

"Ahem!"

They froze in place and slowly untangled, then looked at the
doorway to Jon's room. Both Dad and Mom were standing there with
stern expressions on their faces. As Jon opened his mouth, Dad
raised his hand and pointed at them.

"I do NOT want to hear it! Marta, go to your room and put away
your laundry. Jon, you stay here and straighten out your bed.
Both of you are confined to your rooms after supper."

Marta gave him a shove as she walked by, then looked back and
winked. It was all he could do to growl at her and not smile.

Mission accomplished for tonight.

***

>>> Chapter Ten

Doctors Bernie Klein and Burton Richards met Clark in the
maternity room waiting area. "How is she?" asked Bernie.

Clark smiled nervously. "She's already in the delivery room.
Dr. Marshall is with her."

Bernie nodded. "Evelyn Marshall, right?" Clark nodded back.
"Good. Evelyn is one of the best OB-GYNs in the country. Lois is
in excellent hands."

"I know," Clark replied. "Lois checked her out and interviewed
her and then decided to use her. I have complete confidence in
her."

Bernie put his hand on Clark's shoulder. "As well you
should."

"Where are the other children?" asked Richards.

"Jimmy and Darla are at the house with them. Jimmy said that
since his and Darla's kids were already at Darla's folks'
house for the night, they'd stay as long as we needed them to,
up to and including taking them to school tomorrow."

Bernie smiled. "I'm sure Marta and Jon were thrilled with that
announcement."

Clark ran his hand through this hair. "I told them they could
stay home tomorrow, that someone would be there with them.
There's no way they could focus on classwork anyway. For that
matter, I'm not sure they're going to sleep tonight."

"Well," said Richards, "as long as Lois isn't there to feed
them, they should be fine."

Both Clark and Bernie slowly turned to look at Burton, who lifted
his hands in total innocence and asked, "What?"

Clark leaned back in his chair and laughed softly. "You guys are
terrible. Lois keeps telling me that Burton and Bernie should do
stand-up comedy, and I think I agree with her."

"We'd starve," Bernie said.

"Very quickly," added Burton.

"Not if you did lots of medical conventions. You could do doctor
material, like that group of singing anesthesiologists Jon told
me about."

Burton snapped his fingers. "Oh, right! They call themselves The
Laryngospasms. I saw them last year at a trauma surgeons'
convention in Chicago. They were hilarious."

Clark shook his head. "You'd think that serious medical
professionals would be more sober and dignified than that."

"You might think so," offered Bernie, "but you'd be wrong."

"Have you called the rest of the family?" asked Burton.

"Of course I have. My parents plan to take a flight in as soon
as they can get a non-stop leg from Wichita. I called Sam in
Paraguay and left a message on his voicemail. He'll pick it up
as soon as he gets back from the field. Ellen is in Chicago with
Lucy, who's appearing in a new stage play by some famous writer,
and Ellen said that they'd be here as soon as they could.
Lucy's understudy is as ready as she can be. Seems that everyone
but Sam was on the verge of flying back whether Lois had the baby
or not."

"So you still don't know the baby's gender?" asked Bernie.

"No. We're both a lot more concerned with having a healthy baby
than which sex child we have. And with Lois' continued good
health, too."

Bernie reached out and squeezed Clark's shoulder. "I'm sure
she'll be fine."

Before any of them could say anything else, a tall nurse in
surgical scrubs burst through the door from the operating
theater. "Which one of you is Burton Richards?"

Burton all but leaped to his feet. "What's wrong? Is it
Lois?"

"Scrub up and get in there," the nurse barked. "Dr. Marshall
needs you right away."

Over his shoulder, Burton called out, "Bernie, stay with
Clark!"

Then they were gone.

Bernie, who had risen to half-standing, sat down again and gently
tugged Clark back to his seat. "Lois couldn't have better care,
Clark. And neither could the baby."

Clark didn't speak. He only turned a suddenly sallow and
terrified face to his friend.

***

Darla Olsen was getting frustrated. "No, guys, we're not going
to the hospital! I promise your mom will be fine."

"You can't promise that!" sobbed Marta. "Nobody can promise
that! Please, Uncle Jimmy, you have to take us! We have to be
there for Mom!"

Jon hugged his sister and looked up at the couple as if he were
trying to reassure them. "I don't know why Marta's upset, but
she's never like this without a good reason. If you don't drive
us to the hospital we're going to run there. And you know you
can't catch us if we don't want you to."

Darla put her hands on her hips and scowled at them. "Your
parents put us in charge, young man! That means you do what we
tell you or you answer to them!"

Jimmy touched his wife's shoulder. "Honey, let's talk
about--"

She spun and glared at him. "There's nothing to talk about!
It's past their bedtime and they need to sleep!"

"Aunt Darla?" said Jon. "Marta knows something's wrong with
Mom. She always knows."

"How? How can she know? No phone calls, no news bulletins, no
emails, no tweets, nothing to tell you that something's wrong!
How can she possibly know?"

"I don't know how. She just does. She's always known when Mom
was scared or worried about Dad or when she was sick or when she
used to get kidnapped. In fact, she was the one who knew how to
find Mom the last time one of Lex Luthor's kids took her." He
shrugged. "She just knows."

"Well, I don't know! And that's the end of this discussion!
Now go to bed before I call your father!"

Jimmy put unaccustomed steel in his voice. "Jon is right, Darla.
Marta knows something and they need to be there with their
parents. We're taking them to the hospital."

"What! What do you mean, we're -- James Bartholomew Olsen, do
NOT contradict me!"

It was the first time in Darla's memory that her husband hadn't
backed down from that tone of voice. "I'm taking the kids to
the hospital. And you're coming with me. I have a hunch you'll
be needed."

"But -- but Jim -- we -- Clark said--"

"Now, Darla! Get your coat and get in the car. Jon, Marta, go
get dressed now. Jeans and pullover shirt is fine, and wear shoes
and socks."

"We'll put them on in the car!" Jon shouted.

"Make it quick, you two." Jimmy turned to his wife. "Don't
even start, okay? If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and I'll take the
heat. But if Marta's right, they need to be with their
mother."

"You've never talked to me like this before," she marveled.

"We've never face a situation like this before. We've always
worked really well together, and there's no reason to change
that." He grabbed his coat and fished his keys out of his
pocket. "I'll get the car started, you herd the kids out as
soon as both of them are ready."

"Sure, honey." He turned away but she called to him. "Jim?"

He turned back. "Yes?"

She hesitated, then asked, "Are you -- mad at me? About this, I
mean?"

He shook his head. "I'm not mad at you about anything, honey.
This is different from anything we've done before."

"Good." She stopped and took a breath. "We're going to have
to talk about this. Later, I mean, after we bring the kids
back."

He almost smiled. "Dar, if all we do is turn right around and
bring them back here because everything is just peachy-keen,
I'll kneel in front of you and beg your forgiveness and you can
say anything to me you want. But you have to remember that when
it comes to the Kent family, sometimes all the usual rules are
thrown out of the window."

She nodded. "Got it. I'll have them out there quick."

***

Burton Richards slowly walked to the waiting area. As he stopped
and leaned against the doorframe, Bernie Klein stood and took a
step toward him.

"Burton?" he asked. "Is Lois -- I mean, how is she?"

Burton lifted his head and looked around. "Where's Clark?"

"He just stepped out. Seems his babysitters brought the kids and
he's down there dealing with a very upset daughter and a very
tense son." Bernie touched his friend's elbow. "What is it?
What's happened? Is it -- is something wrong with the baby?"

"Baby? No, no, the baby's fine. Evelyn says their new daughter
is perfect, all her vitals just like they should be. Lois wants
to name her Ellen Lucille, assuming Clark agrees."

"That's a good name. And that's very good news. About the baby
-- Ellen Lucille." He cracked a one-sided smile. "Just don't
look at her initials."

"What? Why not?"

"Because the initials of Ellen Lucille Kent spells ELK. I'd
hate for her to be considered a target for some young hunter when
she's a teenager."

Instead of wisecracking back, Burton pulled off his surgical cap
and rubbed his face with his free hand. "I have to see Clark."

"Why? What's going--" Bernie's eyes bulged and his face
paled. "Oh, no, no, please tell me there's not anything wrong
with her! Come on, Burton! You're the best in the country! You
can help her!"

The sounds of a frightened family echoed along the hallway.
Burton's eyes misted over and he whispered, "Not this time,
Bernie. Not this time."

***

Dr. Marshall was on the verge of tears as she led Lois' husband
and children to her door. She put out her hand and stopped them.
"Listen to me, all of you. I want all three of you to promise me
something." She waited as Clark and Jon nodded. "Marta? You
too, honey."

The girl threw herself against her father and tried to squeeze
him flat. After a long moment, she nodded through her own tears.

"Okay. Kids, your mother knows everything. She knows just as
much as you and your father do. She's going to be a little
groggy because of the painkillers we've given her, but she still
wants to see all of you. And if her sister or mother or in-laws
show up in time, she wants to see them too. But mainly -- mainly
she wants to say goodbye to you because out of all the people she
loves, you three are the most special to her." The doctor knelt
down in front of the kids and wiped her eyes, then said, "I want
you to remember that for the rest of your lives. The three of you
are the most special people in the world to her, along with your
new little sister Ellen Lucille. Will you do that for me? Will
you remember that?"

Jon's eyes were damp, but he seemed to be in control of himself,
which Evelyn knew didn't necessarily bode well for the aftermath
his father would have to deal with. Marta was crying so hard she
was almost unable to stand, and might have slumped to the floor
if not for her grip on her father and his grip on her.

The doctor stood and put her hands on Clark's upper arms. She
felt the strength and the power resting there, and it surprised
her just as much as it always had. He was the strongest and
gentlest man she knew, and she'd seen him walk beside Lois every
step of this difficult and unexpected pregnancy, always smiling
and supportive and rock-solid.

Now, though, his foundation was being ripped from beneath him.
She hoped he was strong enough to withstand this pain.

She looked into his eyes and saw fear and determination warring
against the inevitable. Then he focused on her and gave her the
slightest nod.

It was time.

"I've turned off the audio on the monitors, but they're still
hooked up to the nurse's station. They'll know when she --
they'll know."

"How -- how long?" he whispered.

Evelyn squeezed those rock-hard biceps again and fought for
control of her voice. "Not long. No more than a couple of hours,
probably less."

Clark closed his eyes and took a breath, then looked at her and
nodded once more. They were as ready as anyone could be.

She pushed open the door and led them into Lois' room. Jon
walked to the left side of the bed, away from the fresh surgical
wound on the right side of his mother's stomach that they'd all
known would be there, and laid his head down on his mother's
chest.

The moment her hand wrapped around his head, the tears he'd been
holding back exploded in deep, throaty sobs.

Marta stopped a couple of paces from the near side of the bed and
stood still. She remained there until Lois extended her other
hand and smiled softly. The girl took two unsteady steps and
gently put her arms around Lois' neck.

Clark stood a pace behind Marta, his own tears pooling in his
eyes.

Evelyn almost couldn't take it. She'd become an obstetrician
because she desperately wanted to be a doctor but couldn't face
dealing with patients who only aged, got worse, then sickened and
died. She wanted to bring life into the world, not watch over
those who were leaving it. And she loved the innocence of babies,
the rapturous joy of new mothers, and the gentle love of the
fathers. All of that didn't happen every time, of course, but it
happened often enough to give her a great deal of satisfaction.
And this family had promised to be one of her all-time
favorites.

Now Lois was dying. And no one could keep her from it.

She wanted to leave the room, to protect herself from the pain
they were broadcasting, but her feet wouldn't budge. She had to
witness this, to record it in her memory, to keep it close to her
heart. A love such as this family shared didn't come along every
day.

***

Clark wanted to snatch Lois up in his arms and hold her as long
as she had breath in her lungs, for as long as their wedding vows
had promised. He wanted to protect her, to save her, to take her
away somewhere and care for her until she was better.

But there was no place to take her where she'd be safe from the
betrayal of her own body.

And he refused to take any second of their children's last
moments with their mother from them. The kids would be hurt
tonight -- badly hurt -- but he knew that, in the long run, they
would have been hurt more deeply if he'd kept them from their
mother. They needed to say goodbye, to hear their mother tell
them one more time that she loved them, and most especially they
needed to know that their father was right behind them,
supporting them, loving them, and suffering right along with
them.

How could he support his children? He was barely holding himself
together.

He watched as Lois stroked Jon's hair and kissed the side of his
head. "Jon," she said weakly, "I need to see your face. I need
to look at you."

He turned his head and faced away from her. "I -- I'm sorry! I
can't! I can't look at -- please! I'm sorry!"

She reached out and rubbed his back. "I understand. I just
wanted to tell you that I love you."

"I love you too, Mom! I don't want you to die!"

She shook her head and patted him. "I don't particularly want
to die either, honey, but that's not my decision. Or yours."

He snapped his head around. "Have they tried everything?
Dialysis? Organ cloning? One last look at a transplant? Even a
half-transplant? Can I give you part of my liver? Please?"

She ruffled his hair again. "Dr. Richards told you everything,
didn't he?" Jon nodded without breaking eye contact with his
mother. "Then he told you that they tried all that and more.
There's just something about me that can't accept anyone
else's cells. And he tried cloning my liver, more than once, but
it never worked." She stopped and took a couple of breaths as if
gathering her remaining strength. "You're going to be a doctor
one day -- a very, very good doctor -- but you won't be able to
save everyone. As good as you're going to be, this final enemy
is one you can't beat. No doctor can hold off death forever. No
one can -- not even your father."

Jon's tears came again, but evenly this time. "I know," he
managed to say. "I still hate it."

"And you should. I love you, son, and I can tell what a
wonderful doctor you're going to be. And no one can be a -- a
good doctor without hating to lose a patient." She paused and
seemed to gather strength from somewhere. "Will you promise me
something?"

He nodded. "Of course, Mom. Anything."

"Just promise me that you'll do your best and be satisfied with
it. Not happy -- satisfied. There's a huge difference. And when
you're ready to talk it over with your dad, he'll try to
explain it better than I can."

Clark almost lost it. No one can explain it better than you,
Lois, he thought to her.

"I'll listen, Mom. I promise."

Lois smiled at him and touched his cheek. "I know you will. Can
you scootch up here and let me kiss my son? You aren't too big
for that, are you?"

"No, Mom, I'm not too big."

Clark closed his eyes for a moment, then forced them open again.
He needed to see this and remember it so he could remind their
son how much his mother had loved him.

Jon finally broke the lip-corner kiss -- even now he was too much
a young man to kiss his mother straight on the lips -- and put
his head back down on her chest as Lois turned to her daughter.

"Marty? Hey, baby girl -- oh, I'm sorry, honey. I forgot you
don't -- don't like for me to call you that."

Marta sobbed twice as she shook her head without lifting it.
"Mom, you can call me whatever you want. I don't care. I love
you and I don't want you to go either."

Lois reached up and gently rubbed the back of Marta's neck. "I
don't want to go, baby girl, but like I told your brother, I'm
not in charge this time."

"I know. I heard what you told him."

"Good. Remember it and remind him when he needs to hear it."

Marta lifted her head and wiped her nose on Lois' blanket. "How
will I know that?"

Lois smiled. "Oh, baby, you'll know. You'll know, I promise
you that."

The girl shrugged. "If you say so. Wait, I don't mean it like
that! I just mean -- I mean I believe you even though I don't
completely understand what you're telling me."

"It's okay, sweetie. That's what I thought you meant. Now
listen. I have something special I want you to do for me."

She sniffed and rubbed one eye. "Anything, Momma."

"I want you to help your father with your little sister."

"Well, yeah, I would have even if you -- even if you were going
to be here. I can make bottles, change diapers, all but the
really gooey brown ones, play with her -- I've been reading
those books you and Dad got about taking care of babies. And
I've been babysitting with Aunt Darla when the twins get to be
too much and Uncle Jimmy's at work or something."

Lois chuckled gently, then ruffled her daughter's wheat-blonde
hair. "I know that. And I know you'll be a wonderful sitter for
Ellen while she's little. But I'm talking about when the two of
you get older and she needs a friend to talk to. Your father is a
brilliant man, but he doesn't know things about women like other
women do. You'll have to help him in that way."

"But I'm not a woman yet, Mom! How can I tell someone something
I don't know?"

"Baby girl, by the time she needs to know those things, you'll
know them as well as anyone could. You've got plenty of time."

"Mom -- I don't know. You know how much I don't like school
but I think I'd rather be a doctor."

Lois laughed, then flinched slightly. Clark didn't think the
kids noticed.

Her laughter died but her smile remained. "Marty, remember when
you were going into kindergarten and you were worried about
math?"

Marta scrunched up her face and half-nodded. "Kinda. I think I
was afraid of not knowing how to do the math stuff."

"Even if you already knew a lot of math?"

"Yeah, but I was just four! I didn't know what I was supposed
to know."

"Right. Someone had told you that you'd learn all that math
after you went to kindergarten and you thought that meant that
all you were going to do is walk into the classroom and boing!
You'd automatically know everything you were supposed to know.
You didn't -- whew -- you didn't understand that you'd have to
study to learn, or that the teacher knew you'd have to learn
it."

"Of course I -- wait. I think I get it. You're telling me not
to worry about not knowing what to teach Ellen because I still
have to learn it myself?"

"That's right!" She reached out and hugged the girl.

Only Clark saw the strain and suppressed pain in Lois' face.

Marta and Lois slowly separated. The girl nodded. "I understand,
Momma. I'll be the best big sister there ever was. And if Jon
isn't the best big brother ever I'll beat him up."

Clark smiled through his own tears and caught Lois' gaze. She
nodded as if telling him that she was satisfied.

She gave her son and daughter another kiss each, then patted them
both on the back. "Okay, kids, now I have to talk to your
father."

Dr. Marshall stepped forward. "I'll take--" She stopped and
closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "Come on,
kids. Your parents need some time together."

"Don't they always?" muttered Jon.

Marta slapped him on the upper arm. "You hush, Jon Sam Kent!
Stop being so mean!"

"I'm not being mean, I'm being accurate! It's embarrassing
the way they kiss and stuff!"

"You just wish some girl would ever like you half that much!"

Dr. Marshall herded them out the door and tossed a befuddled
glance over her shoulder as the two continued their low-voiced
non-argument. Both Clark and Lois shared a soft smile as the door
closed behind her.

Clark gently sat on the left side of the bed and took Lois' hand
in his. "I don't believe those two."

Lois smiled. "I do. They were doing it for us, darling, at least
partly. They wanted me to know that they'd be okay." She smiled
and tried to tug him closer to her. "And with you there, I -- I
know they will. You'll watch over them every moment of every
day."

He turned his head and tried not to cry again. "Who -- who'll
watch over me?"

He felt her fingers brush his cheek. "You know the answer to
that one."

It was too much. He moved toward the head of the bed and gently
embraced her, and his tears began again as her arms rose to rest
around his neck.

They sat like that for a long time, softly rocking back and
forth.

Finally Lois leaned back. "I'm sorry -- I have to lie down."

"Of course. Can I -- sorry, dumb question."

"What?"

"I was going to ask you if I could get you something."

"Actually, you can. I'm starting to hurt again and my morphine
button got pushed down close to my knee and I can't reach it.
Would you--"

"Of course." He handed it to her and she pressed it once. After
a few seconds she exhaled and relaxed a bit.

"Thank you. That's so I don't have to call for a nurse to give
me a shot for the pain."

"I know. I've seen them before. The computer in the dispenser
monitors the dose and limits it so you -- I mean, it -- limits
it."

Lois looked into his eyes. "They turned off the limiter on mine.
Just in case I -- in case the pain got too bad." She smiled
sideways. "But I won't need it again as long as you're here
with me."

His throat tightened up and had to force out the words. "I'll
be here as long as you want me to be here, baby."

She closed her eyes and smiled. "Thank you."

"For what, the button or the endearment?"

"The moments."

He gave her a puzzled eyebrow. "Sorry, I'm going to need a
little context."

Her eyes opened and she blinked slowly. "Years ago when I told
you how bad my liver was and you told me you still loved me and
wanted to spend the rest of our lives together, I warned you that
our being together might not last too many years. Then you
said--"

"That it wasn't the years. It was the moments." He smiled
back. "I remember. You know, we've both used that quote quite a
few times."

"I know, but I needed to know that you remembered it. I wanted
two things from this conversation, Clark. I want you to know that
I love you and -- and that I'm thankful for all the moments we
had together. Every one of them."

"Even when I contradicted you?"

She smiled wider. "Yes, even those. They meant that you weren't
just staying with me to be with me. They meant that you -- you
loved me enough to challenge me, to push me to be better, to be
more honest, to do a better job on whatever I -- I was working on
at the time. And you were wonderful. A wonderful husband, a
wonderful father, a wonderful companion, a wonderful friend, and
a wonderful lover."

He took her hand and kissed her palm. "Thank you. You weren't
so bad yourself, you know, except for the part about being a
father. But you made up for it by being the best mother any
family could have."

She smiled, then exhaled deeply and closed her eyes. Clark shot a
frantic glance at the heart monitor, but it was still tracing an
even rhythm, and a moment later she inhaled again. "It's
getting hard for me to stay awake, Clark. Would you mind lying
next to me and holding me?"

He stretched out beside her as best he could, given all the wires
and tubes connecting her to the machines. "Of course I will,
Lois. I love you. I'll do anything for you."

Her voice was weaker now. "I love you too. Wish I'd admitted it
sooner."

"Your timing was perfect, as always."

"Yeah, right." Her face squeezed into a frown. "I've
forgotten something, something I was going to tell you."

"It's okay. You've already said so much."

"Yeah. But something else. Important. Got to remember -- the
other thing--" Her voice strengthened and her eyes popped open.
"Got it! Clark?"

He kissed her cheek. "I'm right here."

"Listen to me. If you find a woman you love, a woman you trust
to help you raise the kids, who you trust to -- uh -- right, to
help you as Superman, and you want to marry her, you -- you have
my blessing."

"Lois, please--"

She tried to punch him on the arm, but her hand flopped loosely
on the covers. "Uh-uh! Listen to me. You shouldn't be alone.
Don't -- don't be alone -- because of me. Okay?"

He didn't speak. He couldn't. Not now. And not about something
he knew he'd never do. There was no other woman in the world he
could ever love like he loved Lois.

She took two long breaths and he thought she'd gone to sleep,
but her head turned and her eyes sought his. "Answer me, Farm
Boy. Don't be -- alone. You shouldn't -- shouldn't be
alone."

He had to tell her what she wanted to hear. "All right, Lois.
I'll think about it."

"Good," she breathed. "That's -- that's all you can do,
think about it. Don't promise. Can't promise that. No one can.
Just don't -- don't turn away from her if you find her. Don't
rob our -- our kids of a mother if -- if one shows up."

He thought she was finished talking but she fooled him. "And
don't you -- don't you refuse to be loved, Clark. If she's
good enough -- for you -- I'll be fine with it. I promise."

What a woman. What a wonderful person. She was -- she was --
dying -- and all she thought about was her family's future. What
other woman could compare to that?

He licked his lips and nodded. "Thank you." He wrapped his arm
around her chest and far shoulder as lightly as he could. "I'm
so blessed that you love me so much. And the kids are so blessed
to have a mother like you."

She smiled, then tilted her head and brushed her lips across his
cheek. After several long moments, she whispered, "I'm really
tired, honey."

"I know."

She closed her eyes and settled back against the pillow. "Think
-- I'll just -- go back to sleep."

He brushed her hair away from her face. "Okay."

She took two shallow breaths. "Uh. Call Perry and -- tell him --
I'll be in late today."

"I'll take care of it. You just rest now."

She didn't speak again.

He was still holding her thirty-two minutes later when the nurse
came in and touched his shoulder. He looked at his wife's face,
her cheeks damp with his tears, then at the flat display on the
cardiac monitor.

Lois Lane-Kent was gone.

***

>>> Chapter Eleven

The day of Lois' funeral dawned dark and grim, but by the time
the service began the clouds had thinned and the spring
temperature had risen to almost warm. Lucy looked around and
thought, You get a nice send-off, Sis, and it's a really pretty
day for it.

The church was already packed. Perry and Alice were seated near
the front and Lucy's mother was beside them. Despite his recent
artificial hip replacement, Perry had insisted that he present
Lois' eulogy, and Clark had overridden the pastor's objections
and agreed. It was really the only decision he'd made since
Lois' last moments.

Lucy almost smiled. Lois had spent so much of her youth taking
care of Lucy, making decisions for her, trying to guide her, to
advise her, and now Lucy was taking care of Lois' final
arrangements. Instead of resenting the task, Lucy was pleased
that she could contribute to her sister's family. She loved
those kids almost as much as Lois had. And she didn't think
there was another man as fine and good and kind as Clark in the
world.

Maybe that, Lucy mused, was part of the reason she was still
single and planned to remain so.

She made one last circuit of the building to verify the
arrangements. Everyone was in place and ready for his or her
part. Having done all she could for now, Lucy sat down beside
Jonathan and Martha, then turned and asked, "How are you folks
doing?"

Jonathan continued to stare at the wall behind the pulpit. His
only reaction to Lucy's words or her presence was to clench his
fists and cross his arms over his chest.

Martha dabbed at her eyes and patted Lucy's hand. "It's a very
painful day for us, dear, just like it is for a lot of people,
but I want to thank you for making it a little bit easier with
all the work you're doing. I'm sure Clark couldn't have taken
care of all these details himself."

Lucy nodded. "He needs to be with the kids, not listening to
coffin pitchmen or settling disagreements between the musicians.
Besides, that folder Lois made to outline her funeral desires
shut up a lot of people."

"It did at that." Martha opened her mouth, then closed it, took
a breath, and said, "I have to ask you something."

"Anything, Mrs. Kent."

"Please, dear, call me Martha."

Lucy smiled softly. "Of course, Martha. What were you going to
ask me?"

Martha took in a breath and let it out slowly, then looked at her
hands. "Did Lois really want these postcards distributed at her
funeral?"

Lucy looked down and snickered. The card in Martha's hand had a
pink cloud background with the words "Having a wonderful time!"
printed at the bottom of one side. On the other, the Bible verse
from First Corinthians, the second chapter, "But as it is
written: What eye did not see and ear did not hear, and what
never entered the human mind-- God prepared this for those who
love Him." was printed across the cloud scene in Comic Sans
font. Balloons and exploding fireworks surrounded it.

"Yes, that was Lois' idea. She shared it with me the last time
I was here, not long after they found out little Ellen was
coming. I don't think Clark knew about it." She hesitated, then
said, "I hope you don't think it's too inappropriate."

Martha smiled and wiped her eyes again. "For Lois? No, not at
all. We all have to go sometime, and being able to look forward
to seeing our loved ones again is comforting." She leaned
closer. "Jonathan and I may both be closer to that day than
anyone would like to think."

Lucy felt her face try to fall, but her acting skills kept her
expression locked in place. "Um -- is this something definite or
just a general knowledge?"

Martha patted her hand. "Something in between, I think. But
don't worry about that right now. We're almost ready to start,
and I believe your mother needs you."

"Of course. Thank you, Martha." She leaned closer to Jonathan
and touched his elbow. "I'll see you both later."

As she turned to rise, Jonathan caught her hand. "Lucy -- thank
you. I know you -- you lost a sister but -- but we've lost a
daughter and -- and you've been wonderful. Thank you so much."
He patted her hand and tried to smile. "You've become a
wonderful woman. Lois would be -- no, that's not right. She told
me she was proud of you. She knew what a fantastic person you
were -- you are. You remember that, okay? Lois was so proud of
you she almost exploded when she was telling us about -- about
what you were doing and how well you were doing it. If you forget
everything else about her -- you remember that."

Years of theatrical training and experience had taught Lucy how
to control her emotions and channel them into her performance,
how to overcome bad news and perform comedy, how to set aside
elation and perform a tragedy, and how to pretend that she
didn't have emotions of her own while on stage. But Jonathan's
brief speech had knocked her back on her heels. Her throat closed
and she couldn't speak. Her eyes clouded over and she couldn't
see clearly. She couldn't even trust her legs to hold her
upright.

Two strong hands came to her rescue, one holding her left hand
and the other around her waist, and they guided her across the
aisle to the seat beside her mother. Her hand found Ellen's and
they leaned on each other for support as they each poured out
their grief.

***

Jim Olsen slipped back into his seat beside his wife. She caught
his hand and squeezed it. "Good save, honey. I doubt that
Superman could have done any better."

He turned to face her, then brushed a tear from her cheek with
his free hand. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

"I'd rather be married to you than to him anyway. I like him
but I love you." She burrowed closer to him and hugged his arm
to herself with her free hand. "I'm really going to miss her,"
Darla choked out.

Jim nodded slowly. "So am I, sweetheart. So am I."

He let his eyes roam over the rest of the room. Except for a
small space on the two pews down front reserved for the immediate
family, there was barely an open seat anywhere. He recognized the
mayor, two of the city council members, the state's attorney
general, and the city's district attorney. The thought that
Lois' passing would make their jobs more difficult crossed his
mind and he almost smiled.

At least the bad guys didn't get her, he told himself.

Jim's gaze ran over the sides and back of the room. There were a
couple of suspicious characters sitting near the back corner,
faces he recognized even though he couldn't put names to them,
and he thought about signaling to someone to watch them. But then
he saw a hard-faced young man in an expensive suit rise from his
seat beside Metropolis Police Chief William Henderson and glide
to the back, where he whispered to two uniformed officers. The
unis nodded, then eased along the wall until they bracketed the
end of the pew where the two suspicious characters sat. Then they
folded their hands in front of them and nodded at the men. The
men in the pew returned the nods and shifted uncomfortably.

Message sent and acknowledged.

Seeing that, Jim knew everything would be fine. Besides, his wife
had a death grip on his arm and he doubted he could pry her loose
for the duration of the service. Not that he wanted to.

He turned and kissed Darla on the side of her head and she
clamped down on his arm even harder.

But Jim didn't mind. Her reaction meant that she needed him. And
his own insecurities bequeathed to him by his father, the ones he
could never quite vanquish despite his family success, his
business acumen, his modest wealth and the financial help he'd
given to those closest to him, were battered down once again by
the love given to him by the woman he loved most in this life.

Through their example, Clark and Lois had taught him that such a
love was more valuable and precious than all money and fame
anyone could accumulate. It was one more item on a long list of
things he owed to them.

***

Through his amber-lensed Cartier sunglasses, Bruce Wayne observed
the interaction between the officers and the two men he knew were
from Intergang without looking directly at them. The thugs were
low-level messengers who knew nothing significant and bore no
threat to anyone, but Chief Henderson's message to them was
clear and unambiguous: Do not misbehave in this city, and most
especially, do not misbehave at this funeral. The "memorandum"
would be passed up the line to the mid-level bosses in the
organization, and Bruce would have an opportunity to track the
ripple effect. He was sure that was Henderson's reasoning also.
Former Commission Gordon of Gotham City would have been much more
subtle but just as firm.

Henderson was no Jim Gordon, but he was very good at his job.

Beside him, Diana Prince shifted slightly and whispered, "Is
this number of politically important personages normal at the
funeral of a civilian?"

"Depends on who the civilian is," he whispered back. "If
she'd been just some hack romance writer, we'd see her family,
someone from her publisher, and a few die-hard fans. But Lois
Lane was much more than just a writer. She campaigned for truth
and justice and against bad guys great and small. On top of that,
she was a wonderful wife to Clark and by all accounts a terrific
mom." He paused, then said, "I hope Clark can go on without
her."

Diana nodded. "I met her once, at a diplomatic event hosted by
my mother. I admit that I was impressed with her charm and
self-assurance."

"I'm not surprised. She was an impressive woman."

"I see." After a long breath, she said, "At the risk of being
indelicate, it appears that you held her in higher esteem than
you do most other women."

"I did." When Diana didn't respond, he added, "We were never
more than friends, but if not for Clark being in her life and
Selina in mine, maybe we could have been something more. Of
course, nothing ever happened between us, except that book she
wrote."

"Ah, the book. I wondered if you were going to bring it up."

He glanced toward Diana, an almost-smile sneaking onto his
chiseled jaw. "When you get quoted in a deep investigative work
on Wonder Woman, we'll talk about how it feels to have the
second-best detective in the world looking into your life. All I
can tell you now is that I was a little concerned that she was
going to write that I might be, or in fact was, Batman."

"And the fact that you did not know what she would write
convinced you that she was not the woman for you."

"Well, that, along with her own marriage and my relationship
with Selina. But you're right. I didn't know what she was going
to do, and because it made me nervous, it pretty much evaporated
any embryonic romantic feelings I might have had for her."

"Yet you and Clark have remained friends for all those years."

He leaned back and adjusted his perfect tie. "The friendship of
another person who's living the double life and keeping the same
kind of secret as me is precious. I have never, nor would I ever,
do anything that would threaten that friendship."

"I understand the 'fellowship of the cape,' as Ms. Lane so
aptly put it in one of her books." She reached up and brushed
his hand away from the silk Windsor knot in his eight hundred
thread count tie. "I take it that you also think very highly of
Clark Kent."

"I do." He turned and faced her directly. "I can't think of
anything I'd not sacrifice to keep him safe, except my
relationships with Selina or Alfred."

She met his stare with a challenge of her own. "And that is why
you have asked me to accompany you, instead of Selina. Unlike
her, I can perform as a surrogate for -- you-know-who -- for a
short time."

"Yes. Thank you for volunteering."

She held his gaze for a long moment, then gave him an
almost-smile to match his. "I am trapped by your manipulations
once again. Very well, I shall give of my time as long as you
feel it is needed." The organist began another song and began
playing louder. "I am still uncertain of the purpose of this
gathering, except, perhaps, making certain the one being mourned
is actually dead. Is the service about to begin?"

He nodded and straightened in his seat. "Yes. This is our last
best chance to offer respect and deserved accolades to the
deceased, even though she won't hear it. Her family, however,
will, and they need to know how we all felt about Lois."

"I -- believe I understand. Perhaps I will grasp its purpose
more fully when we are finished."

The organ stopped and Perry White, Lois' former boss and close
friend, slowly shuffled to the podium.

"I hope you do. The major portion of the service is about to
start."

***

Perry leaned his cane against the podium and pulled his notes and
glasses out of his pocket. I shouldn't be doing this, he
thought. If I hadn't pushed her to do better, if I hadn't told
her over and over again that a reporter is only as good as her
last story, maybe she would have taken better care of herself.
Maybe she would have lived to attend my funeral.

He shook his head and pushed the thought away. He knew that Lois
would have lived her life pedal to the metal no matter what she
did, irrespective of Perry's counsel. If Clark's steadfast and
constant love combined with the joy she'd reaped from her kids
hadn't mellowed her, nothing he could have done would've
worked.

He took a moment to look over the packed auditorium. So many
people were there to say goodbye to Lois, so many were there to
support Clark and the kids, so many were there to celebrate her
life and her achievements, and a very few were there to make sure
she was actually gone.

That last thought almost made him laugh.

He shuffled the paper before him, but he knew he wouldn't
present all of his carefully prepared remarks as written. This
might be his last public appearance, but he was going to go out
in a blaze of glory.

He took a deep breath and began.

"Folks, we're here to say goodbye to a wonderful person. We've
already heard about her family and her career and her life and
how many people will miss her. And that's something we should
all strive to emulate. We should all -- every one of us -- live
so that good and honest people will miss us when we're gone,
'cause it's a sucker bet to think any of us will get out of
this life alive.

"But there are some others who think they'll be safer with Lois
gone. They think that no one will turn over the rocks under which
they hide, that no one will shine a light on their greed and
corruption and foulness. They think that no one will chase them
like Lois did."

He leaned forward and glared. "They're wrong."

Perry straightened and adjusted his stance to ease the pain in
his new hip. "The pastor would have told you how Lois is in a
better place now, that she's beyond pain and sorrow and loss,
and that she's being comforted by the One who loves her the
most. He would have been right.

"But I want to remind you of something else. We don't know what
evil is without comparing it to good. Lois Lane-Kent stood for
goodness and light and righteousness just as powerfully as
Superman ever has. She just did it a little differently -- she
revealed the details of what the evil people did and let the
whole world see them as they really are.

"My days of turning over slimy rocks are done, but there are so
very many other younger men and women who are taking up the
banner and fighting just as hard as Lois did, just as hard as
Superman still does, just as hard as I ever did. You folks are
going to remember Lois in different ways, but you had all better
remember that she stood for something good, something right,
something that was better than just lining her pockets or making
herself famous. She fought for something worthy, tried to build
something to pass on to her children, something that others could
latch onto and continue working for.

"The Bible talks about a city built by God, where the righteous
will live forever. I'm looking for that city, waiting for it,
but I've also spent my life trying to make this world a much
better place, a safer place, for people to live in peace and
harmony. Lois worked for that. Her husband is still working for
it. I believe that when her children get mature enough, they'll
work for it too, each one in their own way, as they follow their
own life paths."

He grabbed the sides of the podium. His strength was not what it
once had been, and he couldn't stand up much longer. But he knew
he had to finish.

"Some of you are following the evil path. Don't worry. We'll
get to you eventually, assuming you're worth the effort.

"Some of you have already dedicated your lives to make the world
a better place, even if your influence is mainly in your own
home. And that's not a bad thing. Without good homes, very few
of us would be truly good people. And you give other good people
a safe place to live, to love, and to grow. Those are all very
good things.

"Many of you do right, at least for the most part, and you
don't do big wrong things. But by itself, that's just not
enough. If Lois were able, she'd sit up and yell at you to
straighten up and fly right! If you've read her Wanda Detroit
books, you know that's what she was always pointing to. Just
read the titles!"

A chuckle tiptoed shyly around the room as people remembered the
bird-themed Wanda mystery titles. He joined them, remembering his
favorite: "If It Quacks Like A Duck, It Ain't a Robin." It had
been the only humorous book in the series, and was the
second-best seller of them all.

Perry waited for quiet, then continued. "If you've read Lois'
non-fiction books, you know how she always talked up the good
people and exposed the bad ones. And if you knew her personally,
you know that she never let anyone get away with doing wrong --
not even herself.

"Don't wait for an opportunity to do good. Go back to your
daily lives determined to be the best you that you can be! Don't
be passively good, be aggressively good! Project it like a dancer
with an attitude! And be that best you, that righteous you, with
everyone you meet, from the cop on the beat to the bored grocery
store clerk who short-changes you to the nincompoop who cuts you
off on the Curt Swan parkway."

Another laugh came, this one a bit louder. Perry waited and
laughed with them, then said, "If you will do that, then Lois'
life will not have been lived in vain. Her battles, whether she
won or lost, will have been worth the struggle and the effort.
And, to misquote Shakespeare, the good she did will not be
interred with her bones."

The pain in his hip suddenly went from a background reminder of
his condition to a near scream. He'd managed to finish just in
time.

He grabbed at his cane and took as much weight off his bad hip as
he could. "Thank you for listening to this old man." Then he
caught Clark's eye, grinned, and said, "Thirty."

An usher helped him off the platform. He knew a few others would
catch the old reference to the end-of-column slug once used to
mark the end of a story for the linotype operator, but he didn't
care. His message had gotten through to Clark, and he'd explain
it to the kids later.

Behind him, the pastor walked to the podium. "Folks, Lois'
friends and family want you to remember her as she was in life.
You are free to pass by the casket, but it won't be open, which
is what the family has requested. Instead, we invite you to share
a brief moment with the people who will remember her most fondly
as we display this video of Lois and her life."

***

The line would have moved much slower had not Commissioner
Henderson stood at the head of the line, gently encouraging the
mourners who passed by the Lane and Kent families to allow others
to express their sorrow as Lois' passing. The video showing
above the platform held scenes from Lois' life from her birth to
a surprise baby shower the ladies from the Planet had thrown her
for Ellie. There were photos of her singing, of her holding her
high school diploma and then her journalism degree, shots from
parties at the Planet where her successes were celebrated, scenes
from her wedding, a few from her honeymoon, lots of pictures of
the children, shots with Brad and Maya and her royalty checks --
with the amounts blanked out, purely for modesty's sake --
scenes from her book signings where she laughed and joked with
her fans, and a few Lois never knew had been taken.

Those showed her leaning over a computer or furiously writing
down notes for one of her projects or smiling with Lucy or her
in-laws or laughing with her children. There were two which Bill
knew were Clark's favorites -- one of her playing with the kids
in the back yard, and one Jon had taken of her sitting on the
couch and leaning against her husband's shoulder, an empty bowl
between them and their hands entwined as she slept, a soft smile
lighting her face.

Henderson watched as Marta lifted her hand to her face to wipe
her eyes, then look up at the screen. The girl silently mouthed,
"I love you, Mom. Good-bye for now."

The staid, unflappable, bucolic police commissioner had to look
away before he lost it.

***

Bruce felt Diana's hand on his wrist before he knew she'd
moved. He'd been so wrapped up in Perry White's words and the
images from Lois' life that he'd lowered his guard and lost his
total awareness of the situation.

His self-rebuke melted away as he turned and saw her eyes
shimmering with unshed tears.

"I -- I did not realize how -- that Lois Lane was so much a
force for good. I will petition my mother the queen to set aside
a feast in her memory when I return home. The life of such a
woman must be celebrated by those who admire her as well as those
who loved her."

Bruce smiled softly. "I knew you'd understand."

***

Clark walked into the house with one hand around his son's
shoulders and the other enveloped by his daughter. Behind him,
Lucy carried little Ellie -- the nickname seemed to be a part of
her already -- and the baby's diaper bag. He hugged his son
tighter and was rewarded with a return embrace.

He was thankful that his children didn't seem to blame him for
their mother's death.

Lucy bustled past and headed upstairs. "I'm going to change
Ellie and see if I can put her down for a nap. Either way, I'm
coming back down to put the feed bag on all of you, so everybody
go change into something comfortable."

As Lucy disappeared into Ellie's room, Clark kissed Marta on top
of her head and whispered, "How about you go get changed now,
sweetie? Come on, do what Aunt Lucy said."

"I'm not hungry, Dad."

He knelt before her. "I know. I'm not all that hungry either.
But your aunt needs to do something to serve us, and us having a
meal together will help."

She looked at him and sighed. "I'm still not hungry."

He grinned and stroked her hair. "It's okay. Just taste a
couple of things and thank your aunt. It will make her feel like
she's helping."

"She is helping, Dad. She's been a big help. The -- the funeral
happened so smooth because of her."

"So let her keep on helping, okay? She needs to feel like she's
contributing more than just good feelings."

Marta sighed dramatically. "Okay. I'll get changed and eat
something. Maybe it'll even taste good."

He stood and gave her a wan smile. "That's my girl. See you in
a few minutes."

Jon slowly trudged upstairs following his sister. "You're
right, Dad. But it doesn't make this easier."

Clark sighed. "I know, son, but remember, if this were easy,
anyone could do it."

The young man stopped and turned to face his father. "I don't
feel very heroic right now."

Clark closed his eyes and forced them not to leak. "I know," he
said. "Neither do I. But we don't have a whole lot of
choices."

Jon nodded. "I'm making one anyway. I'm going to get through
this afternoon and not break down. Tonight, though, I'm going to
cry until I'm too dehydrated to make tears."

Clark couldn't keep the catch out of his voice. "That makes two
of us, son." One corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "Maybe
we can all do it together."

He watched his son nod slowly, then climb the stairs as if
carrying a dozen pianos in each hand. This was hard for Jon, he
knew, even though his son understood Lois' medical situation in
far more detail than Clark did. Maybe, instead of making it
easier for him, Jon's knowledge made it harder.

And somewhere along the line Clark would have to deal with his
unresolved anger at Lois for leaving him.

Clinically, he knew he was already in the second stage of grief.
As often as they'd discussed how short Lois' life might be,
he'd had a lot of years to get past the denial stage. Now he was
working on his illogical, irrational, loss-induced anger at
Lois' early departure.

Early departure? Maybe he wasn't done with the first stage after
all.

But he was angry. He'd have to find some way to release it where
he wouldn't hurt anyone, especially his children. They were
dealing with their own pain -- they didn't need to carry his
also. Maybe a screaming session in the central Antarctic would
help.

The front door opened and he turned to see Sam supporting Ellen
across the threshold. Behind them were his parents, both
grim-faced and red-eyed but standing tall and strong.

Thankfulness for their presence warred with resentment for their
intrusion into his grief within his heart. Yet they were hurting
too, in some ways more than he. Sam and Ellen had lost a
daughter, just as Jonathan and Martha had. He couldn't deny them
the same comfort he needed.

He went to Sam and Ellen first. "You two come on in and sit down
on the couch. We've got enough food to feed everyone who showed
up today, so Lucy's changing the baby, and then she promised to
prepare something to eat. "

As she and Sam sat down, Ellen's head snapped up. "Why is Lucy
taking care of little Ellen? How long is she staying?"

"As long as I'm needed, Mother," Lucy answered from the
stairs. "I'm taking as much time as Clark and the kids need to
land on their feet. I can afford it."

Ellen made as if to stand, but Sam put a gentle hand on her
shoulder. "Ellen, darling, please let Lucy help Clark. It's her
way of giving back to them."

Ellen's head spun around toward her husband. "Then why -- why
is she serving me? Why am I just sitting here as if I were a
useless female? I can help too! I want to help!" A sob forced
its way to the surface. "She was my daughter!"

Sam's arm slid around her far shoulder and he softly pulled her
close to him. "I need you right now, Ellen. If you weren't here
with me right now, I -- I don't think I could keep it
together."

Clark's eyes widened as Ellen leaned into her ex-husband and
wrapped her arms around him. Through her sobs, she said, "Oh,
Sam, please hold me! I love you!"

Sam embraced her as Lucy knelt beside them, one hand on each
parent. "Oh -- Mom, Daddy, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to shut
anyone out."

Sam's big hand brushed his daughter's hair. "It's okay,
little Princess. I understand."

Lucy's eyes shimmered but she kept her composure. "Uh -- Daddy?
Where were you? And why did it take so long for you to get
here?"

Sam heaved a deep sigh. "I was in South America, Lucy. I was
researching some herbs and leaves the natives thought might help
your sister." He turned away and pulled back from his family.
"But I couldn't -- I couldn't find anything -- there wasn't
time to--"

Lucy and Ellen both hugged him tightly at the same time, Ellen
around his chest and Lucy around his neck. "You did your best,
Daddy! Everyone knows you love Lois. And she knew it too."

"Yes, Sam," Ellen added. "You have your faults -- just like
the rest of us have faults -- but no one can say you don't love
your daughters. You always have and you always will."

Clark quietly guided his parents to the love seat and perched on
the arm next to his father. Jonathan reached out and grasped
Clark's hand, then whispered, "Even from something bad,
something good can come. Even in our worst pain, we can be
comforted."

Clark felt, rather than saw, his son and older daughter silently
join them at the love seat. Jon knelt before his grandfather and
grasped that big loving hand in both of his, while Marta curled
up in her grandmother's lap as if she were still three years
old. They all remained that way for as long as it took to release
their pain.

***

Ever since he'd developed his hearing, Clark had used it to keep
from walking into rooms and interrupting the conversations of
others, especially when he knew those talks were not meant for
his ears. So he didn't mean to eavesdrop on Lucy and her mother.
It just happened.

"No, Mom! I'm not leaving yet. They still need me."

"But it's been more than two months. Surely you have to go back
to work some time."

"I will, I promise. Just not now."

"Lucy. Please listen. You're a wonderful aunt, a terrific
housekeeper, a good cook, and you've helped bring a sense of
normal life back to those kids. They're doing very well,
especially little Ellie, and it's largely because of you."

He heard Lucy sigh. "Thank you, Mother. What's the rest of
it?"

"What makes you think there's more?"

"I've heard it often enough. 'Oh, Ms. Lane, you are a very
strong performer, and you're certainly qualified, but you're
just not the type we're looking for.' And when I ask what type
they're looking for, I usually hear something like, 'We're not
sure, but we're afraid you aren't it.' So give me the rest of
it."

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think, comparing me to a
Broadway producer?"

"Except for the fact that you can't fire me, I think it's
appropriate. Now please tell me the rest of what's on your
mind."

Ellen huffed. "Very well. You know that I really do love you and
the kids and Clark and I know you you're giving a great deal of
your time and money right now, and I -- I don't think you should
make it a lifetime investment."

Lucy's voice sounded as confused as Clark was. "What?"

Ellen's voice softened. "Sweetheart, I -- I don't want to see
you try to replace Lois."

"Replace -- Lois? You mean -- as Clark's wife? And the kids'
mother? Oh, Mom, you don't--"

"Please! Please listen! Lucy, if you want to get married and
settle down and have a family, that's what you should do, even
if you marry into a ready-made family. But I don't think you
should marry into this one, and that's what I'm afraid you're
thinking about."

"Oh, wow, Mom, you are so far off base--"

"Please listen! Do you know why your father never made a home
with any of the women he took up with after he left us? Do you
understand why he never stayed married very long to any of the
few he did marry?"

"Yes! It's because Daddy is incapable of commitment!"

"No, Lucy. It was because none of them could measure up to his
memory of me."

Clark was sure Lucy's mouth was hanging open just as his was.

"I don't mean the drunk me, the nagging me, the horrible
harridan me! I mean the young and loving me, the me who couldn't
wait for him to come home so we could wrap ourselves up in each
other. We were really in love when we were young, sweetheart, and
we were happy together. If I had stayed in love with him that
way, he wouldn't have -- have cheated on me -- on us."

He heard Lucy's teeth grinding together. "Are you telling me
that it's your fault he ran out on us? That you drove him away?
That you pushed him into the arms of those other women? That it
was your fault and not his? Because I'm not about to--"

"No! Lucy, no, that's not it. I didn't push him away. It's
just that -- that I didn't -- I didn't give him a good reason
to stay with me."

Neither of them spoke for several seconds, then Lucy said,
"Okay, I can understand that. But what does that have to do with
me?"

"Your father didn't give himself the time to really separate
from me emotionally. When he took up with those other women, he
was looking for that younger, loving me all over again. If you
were to marry Clark, especially now, he'd be looking for Lois in
you, and as fine a woman as your sister was, she wasn't you."

"Oh," Lucy said in a small voice. "I thought you were going to
say it like -- like I could never be her."

"You can't be Lois, any more than she could have been you. If
she had gone on stage, she would have been good, but she
wouldn't have been you. She couldn't have played the roles
you've played, or at least not as well, she wouldn't have had
the kind of success you've had, and she wouldn't have been
where you are now in your career. And it's not because either of
you lacked anything the other one had in abundance, you just had
those things in different proportions." Clark heard them shuffle
closer and embrace. "Oh, Lucy, you can't replace Lois! And she
could never have replaced you! I just want you to understand that
before you get too emotionally committed to Clark and the
kids."

At least one of them sniffled before they separated. "I
understand what you're saying, Mom. I promise that I'm not
planning on marrying Clark. He's a great man, and the kids are
wonderful, but I'm not leaving my life for them. I have too much
time and heart invested in what I do to give it up. I love Clark,
but I'm not in love with him. Sharing his life forever and
always isn't in the cards for me." She sighed. "It's about
time I got back to the salt mines anyway. I called my agent
yesterday and he said he had a standing offer for me to join a
company based in Chicago. I told him I'd probably be free in
about two weeks or so. I just need to talk to Clark and the kids
about it."

"Good. Not that you'll find a man any better than Clark, of
course, but if you really want to get married, you can find the
best man for you."

"Thank you, Mom. Hey, along those lines, this is the third time
you and Daddy have been here together. Does that mean
anything?"

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything just yet, but--"

Ellen giggled like a teenager and Clark blushed. They were about
to share some very private information that he didn't need to
know, didn't want to know, and he spun around to retrace his
steps to wherever he'd been before he'd listened in to the
conversation.

He sighed in relief as he silently walked away. Asking Lucy to
stay as his wife was something that had crossed his mind, mostly
for the sake of the children, but it wasn't a thought that had
found fertile ground. The reasons Ellen had listed for Lucy to
remain uncommitted to him were similar to the ones he'd had for
not getting closer to his sister-in-law. And he had other reasons
that Ellen hadn't mentioned.

He didn't want another woman in his house to replace Lois. He
didn't want his children to have another mother. And he
couldn't visualize waking up to another woman's face every
morning. He wasn't ready to replace Lois.

He feared that he might never be ready for that.

***

>>> Chapter Twelve

Diana sat before Lois' grave, holding her sketch pad before her.
She knew she would never be a great artist, but she could copy a
scene from real life if she had the time and the motivation.

And this project was close to her heart. Her mother, the queen,
had listened to Diana's urgings to commemorate Lois' life with
a special feast day. Diana did not believe she would have
succeeded had not four other Amazons reinforced her report and
presented the same suggestion to the throne. Diana was fortunate
that the four, all of whom were part of the royal guard, had
agreed with her opinion that the Amazons celebrate the life of a
woman who was not one of their own.

That had been almost a year before. Now Diana was working on a
design of a banner for the second feast, one which would tell in
more detail just whose life was being celebrated and why. It was
something she had not shared with Clark, nor did she plan to do
so.

And then Clark said, "Hello, Diana. I haven't seen you since
the last League meeting."

She tried not to jump from her seat, but he chuckled as she
flipped the sketchbook shut. Clark and Bruce were the only two
men in the world who could sneak up on her like that.

"Hello, Clark. I hope you have been well."

"I have. That's a very nice outfit you have on. Of course,
it's not your usual garb."

She stood and smoothed the purple calf-length coat. "Thank you.
I was concerned that I might be recognized, so I attempted to
disguise myself."

He smiled back at her. "And the rakish wide-brimmed hat worn at
that jaunty angle? Reminds me of someone."

She knew he was teasing her, and she took it as a good sign.
"Several have informed me that I resemble a woman named Carmen
San Diego. I assume she is some sort of celebrity, but I have not
yet found an address for her, nor have I met her, so I cannot --
why are you laughing?"

He covered his mouth. "Carmen San Diego is a character in a
geography-based game intended for young people. Jon never got
into it, but Marta thinks it's great fun. She loves to play it
with her grandparents and she usually wins."

Diana pressed her teeth together. "I resemble a fictional
person?"

"Only because you're wearing that particular coat and hat. For
what it's worth, I happen to think it looks good on you."

"Thank you." Mollified, she hesitated, then said, "You are
surely here to visit Lois' final resting place. I have no wish
to disturb you or interfere with your -- your customs, so I will
leave you now."

He shook his head. "You don't have to go. I'm not going to do
or say anything that would embarrass myself or anyone else.
Please, go on with your drawing."

She went still. "You were not intended to see that."

He pointed to his glasses. "I have a really good
prescription."

Ah. He was teasing her again. It would be rude to return a
rebuff. "Very well. I thank you for your permission to remain. I
shall endeavor not to disturb you."

He nodded. "You'll have to tell me about that drawing
someday."

She canted her head to one side. "Perhaps I shall, Clark."

He nodded and walked to the side of the headstone, then knelt and
put one hand on it as if for balance. She heard him softly say,
"I'm here, Lois."

Despite his assurance that she was not intruding, she felt as if
she should depart. Then she realized that capturing this scene
was the way to the heart of the Amazons -- a man kneeling beside
his wife's grave, not in agony of loss but in celebration of her
life. It would surely touch all of their spirits as it now
touched hers. No one in Themyscira could refrain from shedding
tears over such a life lived so well. Lois Lane would be
celebrated and praised, and surely many Amazons would dedicate
their lives to the betterment of both their own society and of
the society of man's world.

Diana sat silently and resumed sketching. Even as her pencil flew
over the paper and the sight of Clark and his love for Lois
flowed onto the paper, she knew it was the best thing she had
ever drawn -- or would ever draw.

***

Jon knocked softly on his sister's door. "Mart? You awake?"

"Come on in."

He slipped in and closed the door. Marta was sitting on the bed,
looking through a photo album. "You know we have all those on
the family server, don't you?"

She didn't look at him. "I like to touch the book. Sometimes it
feels almost like -- like Mom is still here." She slowly folded
it shut. "And then I remember what happened a year ago." A sigh
escaped her lips. "And Daddy's so lonely. He misses her as much
as I do."

Jon sat on the beanbag chair across against the wall. "That's
what I want to talk to you about."

She moved the book to her bedside table. "Can you be more
specific?"

"Sure. But it's a touchy subject for me and I don't want to
rush into it too fast."

"How touchy are we talking about?"

"Very."

"So what are we talking about?"

Here comes the explosion. "A new wife for Dad."

Jon had anticipated his sister throwing things at him, running
out of the house at near super-speed, jumping on him and hitting
him with real anger, or even screaming at the top of her lungs
and threatening him with bodily harm. But she fooled him
completely.

She sighed and nodded. "I've been thinking about that too. Any
ideas?"

"You mean like candidates for our new mommy? No. I wanted to
talk to you about the concept first."

"You mean you wanted me to talk you into thinking it was a good
idea."

He ducked his head. "Yeah. Intellectually, I know Dad will
probably marry again someday, but I'm not sure I'm emotionally
ready for it right now. Or that I'll be ready any time soon."

"Me neither. So what do you suggest?"

"You're a smart kid, Mart. I was hoping you might have
something."

"Huh. That's a surprise, you asking me for advice."

"Yeah, well, I'm not as in touch with my feelings as you
are."

"How about Dad's feelings? Are you in touch with them?"

Her question surprised him, but it shouldn't have. Given his
sister's emotional link with their mother, it would have been a
natural thing to assume that he had a similar link to their
father.

Sometimes he thought he did. Sometimes he knew when his dad had
been on a tough Superman mission before the rest of the family
did. Sometimes he knew when, as a reporter or an editor, his
father had run across a difficult or trying story where he
couldn't fix the problem or help the people involved other than
reporting the news. It just didn't seem to be as strong a link
as Mom and Marta's link had been.

"Kinda," he answered Marta. "I know he's started laughing
occasionally. And Uncle Jimmy took us to a baseball game last
week, and Dad seemed to have a lot of fun. But that's beside the
point. Do you have any suggestions for helping Dad find a new
wife when he's ready to start looking?"

She frowned in thought for a long moment, then said, "I don't
think we should help him look. But I do think we should help him
screen them."

"Screen them how?"

"Well, how about this? If he brings some woman home to meet us,
I give her a hard time and you play peacemaker. That way we both
get to evaluate her, and if I can scare her off by myself she
doesn't need to be part of this family."

"Hey! Are you saying we'd frighten the Addams Family?"

She gave him a lopsided grin. "We probably could if we put our
minds to it. What do you think of that arrangement?"

He nodded. "Good idea. Let's shake on it."

***

Wonder Woman and Catwoman landed softly in the evening shadows
outside Dallas Alley and stepped back against the wall. Satisfied
that no one was watching, Diana spun in place for a moment, then
stopped.

"Keep watch while I change," said Selina. "I can't do that
super-spin thing like you and Spitcurl."

Diana frowned. "Who is Spitcurl?"

"The Big Blue Boy Scout."

"Who -- oh, you mean Superman."

"Who else? I like your outfit, by the way. What are those boots
made of, calfskin?"

Diana was pleased that the other woman approved of her attire.
"Thank you. They are sharkskin, actually, from animals raised
and kept for the Amazons' use. But should anyone inside ask, I
will say that they are calfskin. I am aware that many people in
man's world do not understand the difference between wild sharks
and domesticated ones."

Selina threaded her belt through her jeans and shrugged. "Not
sure I do either, but I'm glad you're not taking them out of
the Atlantic ecosystem."

"Amazons do not take a life, even an animal life, without a
valid reason." Diana frowned. "Selina, are you certain that
these clothes are appropriate for this venue?"

Selina sighed. "For the sixth time, Diana, they're fine! If you
see dress slacks in this club, you can be sure the wearer is a
dumb cop of some kind. Everyone else, including the smart cops,
will be wearing jeans, and most of them will have Stetsons on,
too."

Diana ran her fingers through her hair. "Would it not be better
if we wore similar headgear?"

Selina's hands found her hips. "You tried on a Stetson. You
wore it like it was a tiara. No good. Me, I don't much care for
cowboy hats or for limiting my field of vision. No hats
tonight."

"As you say. You have more experience in this sort of thing."

Selina stomped her left foot once and tugged at the boot top,
then slid her jeans down over the boot. "Okay, that's good. You
ready?"

Diana frowned. "Tell me once more why we are here and not in
either Metropolis or Gotham."

Selina sighed again, then lifted her hand and began counting on
her fingers. "One: If you want genuine country, western, western
swing, or country rock music, you can't get it from a house band
in either Metropolis or Gotham. Those guys are good but they just
don't have the right kind of soul. You might as well look for
Motown in some little bar in New Mexico. Two: You need a night
out on the town and more first-hand information about how real
people have fun than you can get from reading books or talking to
me. Three: No one knows us here. We're anonymous women just
looking for dance partners and good country music. Four: Mary
Chapin Carpenter is not appearing in Metropolis or Gotham. She's
here and I want to hear her perform live. A greatest hits CD just
isn't the same thing."

"Bruce told me some weeks ago that one cannot find authentic
Tex-Mex food in North Dakota. Is your reasoning analogous to
that?"

Diana wondered why the corner of Selina's mouth twitched, then
she decided to ignore it. "Yes," Selina answered. "That's
correct. Now let's get in there before all the good tables are
taken."

***

To her surprise, Diana discovered that she enjoyed country music,
or at least she enjoyed the music she was hearing. Mary Chapin
Carpenter was a talented blonde with a pleasing appearance, a
powerful and textured voice, and what Selina had described as a
"rockin' band" playing in support of her vocalizations. She
wondered if her mother would approve of the songs, then she
decided that she would purchase a selection of the artist's
recordings and present them to her staff as gifts. Hippolyta
would certainly be brought up short by "Passionate Kisses," a
tune which had startled Diana at first but which she quickly grew
to like.

She took another sip of her beverage and smiled. Whatever else a
"Hurricane Warning" was, it tasted wonderfully sweet.

Selina was, at the moment, busy dancing something called the
"two-step" with a young man wearing the uniform of a
"drugstore cowboy," which Selina had explained meant a man who
dressed as a ranch worker but was almost surely an accountant or
computer programmer or some other office worker. The two of them
seemed to flow well together, and both of them seemed to be
enjoying themselves. Diana smiled and tapped her foot on the
floor to the rhythm of the song.

As the tune ended and the audience applauded loudly, a tall
slender man stepped up to Diana's table. "Ma'am, would you
like to dance this next dance with me? I'd sure take it as a
personal favor if you would."

She blinked twice. "Ah -- I thank you for the invitation, sir,
but I am not certain I know these steps well enough."

He held out his hand and smiled widely. "Can't know that unless
you try."

She was torn. On one hand, she really knew nothing about the
steps in these dances, and she did not wish to embarrass either
herself or Selina. On the other hand, the man was as tall as she,
appeared mature and composed, and she found that she wanted to
give herself permission to have fun tonight.

Yet she did not wish to spend the dance stepping on the man's
toes. "Perhaps I am not the best choice--"

She got no farther as Selina suddenly appeared at her side and
pulled her upright. "Come on, Diana! Loosen up and give the man
a dance! Ain't that what we're here for?"

It took Diana two seconds to decide that yes, having fun was what
they had come here to experience. "Very well, sir. But I warn
you that I truly do not know this style of dancing well."

"Your name's Diana?" She returned his smile and nodded. "My
name's Jerry, and I'll have you to two-steppin' before you
know it."

The band began playing a syncopated four-beat and Jerry whirled
her onto the floor. By the time the chorus began, she'd caught
the rhythm of "I Feel Lucky" and was following Jerry around as
they had rehearsed the dance beforehand. She was able to
translate some of her Amazon folk dance steps into movements akin
to the steps other women in the club were making, and by the time
the song ended Jerry pulled her close and spun her around and
laughed in her ear.

"What are you saying, you don't know these steps? You're
terrific!"

"Thank you, Jerry. Shall we try the next one also?"

The drums began, followed by the fiddle and lead guitar. Jerry
took her hands and showed her the basics of the fast two-step and
she caught them almost immediately. They danced and skipped and
spun across the floor, and Diana realized that she was having
real fun for the first time in a very long time, and she was more
than glad that Selina had insisted that she come to Dallas. She
was sorry when they finished singing about the "Twist and
Shout."

"Are you tired?" Jerry asked.

"No! I believe I could dance to this music all evening!"

Jerry laughed. "I'm not as energetic as you are. How about one
more and we take a short break?"

"If that is your wish. Oh, they are starting again! Is it
permitted for me to attempt some other dance moves?"

"Whatever your feet desire, Diana! Let's go!"

This time the drums began, followed by the piano and the lead
guitar. Diana got on her toes and spun with the beat as if this
were an interpretive ballet, then she stepped in a circle in a
combination of an Amazon hunting dance and the hip-shaking
displays she had seen from some of the other women in the club.
She didn't know how it looked, but it felt good.

Jerry laughed aloud and followed her as well as he could, and
sometime during the second verse he caught Diana and led her into
a cross between the two-step she had just learned and something
resembling a polka. They missed a step at least every other
measure, but Diana didn't care. She was having fun!

At the end of the song, instead of following the advice of the
singer to shut up and kiss her, he let her slip out so that her
hands were in his as the spun around leaning back. When the music
finally stopped, he pulled her to him and hugged her briefly.
Astounded, Diana could only return the hug.

"The band is taking a break, Diana. Let's go see if your friend
is thirsty, okay?" Jerry asked.

Diana laughed. "That is a good idea. I find that I desire liquid
refreshment myself."

They walked to the table, and Jerry surprised her by pulling out
her chair for her. "Thank you," she said, then turned to the
other couple. "Selina, you were quite right about this venue. It
has been a most enjoyable evening thus far."

Selina stuck her hand out. "Hi, I'm Selina. And your name
is?"

"Sorry, ma'am, I'm Jerry. Your friend is a wonderful dancer. I
could hardly keep up with her."

Selina smiled. "She's a better dancer than she told me, too.
Oh, before I forget, this youngster here is Matt. Matt, be polite
and shake hands with Jerry and Diana."

Matt stuck his hand out and shook hands unenthusiastically.
"Hi."

"Howdy, Matt. Ms. Selina, your friend Diana is quite a
dancer."

Selina smiled. "You already said that."

"It bears repeatin'. I can't believe how fast she picked up
those steps. And whatever she was doing on that last tune was
downright inspired!"

"Don't tell me, tell her. Those were her feet out there."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as a man who seemed to
have imbibed a good deal of liquid courage walked in their
direction, his thumbs in his belt loops and his face set in an
expression he probably believed was charming. Before he came
within a few feet, however, another man stepped in front of him
and spoke urgently in his ear.

The first man's countenance fell and he turned away more quickly
than he had approached. Diana wondered what that was about for a
moment, then turned back in on the conversation.

"No," Selina said, "Matt didn't insult me. He just put his
hand where it wasn't supposed to go."

"Oh?" Jerry said. "I don't imagine he plans to do that again,
does he?"

The pitch and tone of Jerry's voice had changed. It was lower,
almost menacing, and his pronunciation was more precise than
before. Diana looked closer at Jerry, trying to recognize him,
but decided anew that she'd never seen him before.

Selina laughed, her voice quicksilver and cotton candy. "No. We
had a discussion about it and we both decided that we were dance
partners and nothing else."

Jerry's smile softened his expression. "That's the ticket,
Matt. Like me and Diana here. Maybe we'll be friends someday,
maybe we'll never see each other again, but I'll always
remember being out-danced here tonight. Hey, is anyone thirsty?
I'll stand for one round of refills for each of us."

Diana smiled. "That is kind of you, Jerry. I believe I would
like another 'Hurricane Warning'."

Jerry's eyes widened. "Uh -- sure. Ms. Selina, what would you
like?"

She laughed again. "Just call me Selina. Or Lina. I'll have
another Sam Adams."

"Sure enough. Matt, how about you?"

Matt turned up his beer bottle and drained the last few drops.
"How about a Lone Star?"

Jerry stood. "Coming up. Matt, why don't you come with me and
help me carry the drinks back to the table?"

Matt's hat nodded and he stood. "Sure."

As they strode to the bar, Diana said, "Has Matt created
problems for you?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle. How about Jerry? He try to kiss you
yet?"

Diana blinked. "Why -- no. He has behaved as a gentleman with
me."

"Good. Incidentally, you have the option to slug him if he gets
too personal with you."

"I do not believe I will need to resort to such action. But why
did you not tell me that earlier?"

Selina smiled. "I didn't think you'd get hit on at all, and if
you did I didn't think you'd respond. You're full of
surprises."

Diana frowned, confused by the idiom. "I'm sorry, what is being
'hit on?' Is a prelude to combat?"

Selina guffawed. "No, no! It's a prelude to inviting you to
spend the night with a guy."

"Oh. Well, no, Jerry has made no such suggestion to me."

"I wouldn't expect him to. I didn't want him to know I'd been
doing research on him, but I found out that he owns this
place."

"Really? He owns Dallas Alley?"

"Not all of it, no. But he does own Bud's, which is where we
are. That's why that one guy headed off his buddy a few minutes
ago. Jerry wants all his patrons to have fun, but he doesn't
like for people to try to split up couples or friends. He's been
known to throw out some troublemakers and even ban a few."

"I see. Then it is an honor for him to dance with one of his
patrons?"

Selina looked around the room and smiled. "I don't know about
'honor,' but they tell me that he doesn't like to see women
sitting alone. He likes to make sure they feel welcome. On top of
that, I think he likes you."

"As a good dancer, you mean."

"Well, that too. But he figured out that you're not from around
here and that you're not a hooker looking for a mark -- he
tosses those girls as soon as he sees them -- but that you needed
to have a little fun tonight. And he's had a good time too."

"Oh." Diana was suddenly struck by a disturbing thought.
"Selina -- does he wish to pursue a romantic relationship with
me?"

Selina laughed again. "No. His wife is the bookkeeper for this
place, and I doubt she'd tolerate anyone horning in on her
territory."

"Jerry is married?" Selina nodded. "And his wife does not care
that he sometimes dances with the female patrons?"

"As long as the women don't get the wrong idea, no, she
doesn't care. Besides, it boosts his business if the women who
come here without a guy know they'll be left alone if that's
what they want."

"I see." She looked toward the bar to see Jerry returning with
three drinks on a small tray.

He put the tray down and passed out the drinks. "Selina, Matt
asked me to apologize for him. He just remembered that he had a
very important appointment in Grand Prairie tonight."

Selina smiled. "Poor guy. I didn't mean to scare him that
badly."

"If he did something he shouldn't have, you were right to scare
him." Jerry turned to Diana. "You know, Diana, this here
'Hurricane Warning' is a right powerful drink. Most people
don't do so well with just one of them under their belt."

"I presume that was why you were surprised to hear me request
it."

"Yup. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression of us
Dallas cowboys."

"Oh, I would imagine that the people of Dallas are much like
people anywhere. Some are very good, some are very bad, some are
bad if they believe they will not be found out, and most are what
a friend of mine called 'passively good.' They mind their own
business and in general behave themselves."

"Yeah, but that ain't enough. I used to be one of those passive
people till a couple of years ago. This place was a lot rougher
that it is now, and I let it happen. Then I heard about a lady
who was a crusader for good, and hearin' all she did made me
want to be a better man in every way. I been trying, and I think
I've done some good."

From the bandstand came the soft sound of an organ, then a piano,
then the drummer added soft cymbals to the sound. Diana listened
for a moment, then asked, "Who is this lady to whom you refer? I
think I would like to meet her."

Jerry looked at her sadly. "I wish you could. Matter of fact, I
wish I could. Her name was Lois Lane. I'm a little surprised
y'all ain't heard o' her, but maybe bein' from someplace else
you ain't had the chance."

Diana froze. Lois' influence had reached all the way to the
middle of the nation? She had known that many were greatly
impressed by Lois' life and that many lives had been changed
through her example, but the extent and reach of Lois' influence
startled her.

Selina must have seen Diana's shock. "Jerry, we don't want to
hold you here. I'm sure you have other things you could be
doing. You don't have to baby-sit us."

Her smile took the sting from her words. Jerry nodded and touched
the brim of his hat. "That's true, ma'am, I do, but I also
didn't want to leave you two ladies alone."

"We'll be fine, I promise."

He rose gracefully. "In that case, I'll go on my way. You
ladies have fun, okay? And please stay as long as you want."

As Jerry strode away, Diana listened as Mary Chapin Carpenter
began singing a plaintive melody concerning the steadfastness of
a lover departing on a journey. She promised to return to her
love, no matter how long she was away or how long she was gone.

The song reminded her of the powerful love between Clark and
Lois.

Diana leaned closer to her friend. "Selina, I believe I would
like to leave now. Would you prefer to remain?"

Selina's hand found Diana's and gently squeezed it. "This
night is for you. You can do anything you want. If you're ready
to go, we'll go."

Just then the lyric "You've been a friend to me" came from the
band stand, then a melancholy saxophone wept over the piano and
synthesizer. Diana returned Selina's grasp and nodded. "I
believe it is time. I have had a great deal of fun and I have
learned something very important."

"Then let's go. I'll meet you by the front door. I have to
visit the ladies' room first."

Diana smiled and nodded. "I will savor this beverage for a few
more moments, then I will make my way to the alcove where the
band's recordings are for sale. And you need not worry that I
cannot pay. I brought American money with me tonight."

Selina chuckled. "Yeah, this isn't the Iceberg. I don't have a
tab here."

Diana sipped her drink as Selina wound her way to the restroom.
It was still delicious, yet it now tasted of distance. She
didn't understand that. Distance from what? Or from whom?

She rose and made her way around the dance floor to the band's
product table where she picked out eight discs, including the
"Greatest Hits" disc which Selina had derided mildly when they
had arrived. She paid for her purchase, pocketed the change, and
waited for her friend near the entrance.

Her friend. The phrase had a very nice ring to it.

***

Diana was making her third annual pilgrimage to Lois' grave, and
she smiled to herself. Her mother had proposed a mass gathering
at the gravesite to join those who chose to celebrate Lois'
life, but Diana had protested that people in the United States
did not normally participate in such rituals. Yet here she was,
walking slowly through the cemetery toward a celebration of her
own.

She had met Clark two years before quite by accident as she
sketched Lois' grave. The next year she had approached as he
stood beside the headstone, and he had waited with her as she sat
and pondered what she had learned about Lois. She would not have
believed that any woman living in man's world would affect her
so deeply.

This year she actually hoped to see Clark. The two of them had
worked together as super-powered heroes on several occasions, and
they were both involved with Bruce Wayne's plans to formalize
the Justice League, rather than leaving it as a loose
confederation of heroes. Diana was not as eager to see that come
to fruition as Clark was, but she didn't oppose it.

She found that she truly wanted to see him. To the Amazons, a man
was not supposed to be a close friend or confidant. But Diana had
learned that not only was Clark reliable and discreet, he was a
source of wisdom and advice. And he understood people in a way
Diana almost envied.

She made the final turn on the sidewalk and looked at the
headstone. It was as it had been, save for a slight amount of
weathering. But that was to be expected.

What was not expected was the sight of Clark sitting on a nearby
bench with his face in his hands, his shoulders almost trembling
with tension.

She approached him cautiously. "Clark? What is wrong? Are you
and your children well?"

He raised his head but didn't look at her. "I -- I don't know
if I can do this."

She gently sat on the far end of the bench. "You have helped me
a great deal, my friend, and I would like to help you. Can you
tell me of the 'this' which you feel you may not be able to
accomplish?"

He turned bleary, damp eyes to her. "I'm a father. I'm general
editor of the Daily Planet. I'm Superman. I'm Clark Kent. I
don't know--" he sat up and wrapped his arms around himself.
"I don't think I can be all of those people any more. I don't
know what to do. Everything takes longer than I want it to. The
kids need a mother figure in their lives but I can't even think
about dating because I don't have the time and I really don't
want to look at another woman. The kids need me, the paper needs
me, the world needs me, Sam died a couple of months ago and Ellen
needs me, I don't have time for myself and I can't remember the
last time I saw a movie or went to a ball game or even watched
one on TV. I'm stretched too thin, Diana. I don't have any more
to give."

He bent over again and his body jerked as if he were crying. She
didn't know what to do. She'd never seen the strongest man in
the world so weak and helpless, not even under the influence of
kryptonite. Were that the problem, she could take the green
crystal away and ease his pain -- but there was no way for her to
remove this pain from him. She didn't know what to do.

But her friend was hurting badly. She had to try.

"Clark -- I am not trained to -- no, let me begin again." She
scooted closer. "You are my friend, and I am pained to see you
in agony for any reason. And I am ashamed that you did not feel
free to contact me earlier. That is my fault, and I apologize for
this now."

"Not your fault. You didn't know."

"True. But I should have made it clear that you could speak
openly and freely with me about such things, and I have failed
you in that regard."

She gently laid her hand on his shoulder. "Clark, I wish that I
could cast my lasso upon you and force you to see the truth, that
you are a good man who is doing the best he can under possibly
the most trying circumstances he might face. You have many people
who care deeply about you and who would assist you in your time
of need. Your children, by all accounts that I have heard, are
excellent young people who love and respect you and who are
surely hurting because they cannot but see your agony. This time
in your life is a hard one, my friend, but you can face it and
defeat it."

She took a deep breath and let it out. Then a thought came to her
and she stood. "In fact, I will help you now."

"What? How -- what are you going to do?"

Instead of answering him, she reached into her pocket and pulled
out an earpiece which looked like a Bluetooth phone extension. It
was really a direct satellite line to Bruce Wayne's private cell
phone, one of eight units in the world equipped with the
necessary security protocols to connect to the other units like
it.

"Direct connect to Bruce Wayne," she said. "Personal
emergency."

Clark rose beside her. "What? No! Don't call Bruce! This isn't
that kind of emergency!"

She reached up and pressed the mute button. "It is true that
lives on this planet are not being threatened, but this situation
is important enough for him to be aware of it. He will not permit
this state of affairs to continue any more than I will."

The speaker crackled to life in her ear. "Bruce Wayne. Diana,
what's going on?"

"Bruce, Clark needs us. He is having a personal crisis and
requires the assistance of his friends."

She heard him sigh in her ear. "Princess, this is an emergency
channel. None of us are supposed to use it for personal
favors."

Steel crept into her voice. "This is not a personal favor. The
man whom you have called your best friend is in need and you are
in a position to assist him. You will now do so."

"Even if that's true, I've got business to take care of here
in--"

"I would not have called you had it not been true."

"I believe you, but I still can't just drop everything with no
notice. Wayne Enterprises is a multinational--"

"You will do this for Clark, Bruce, and you will do it now, or
you will feel my pique."

There was a pause, then Bruce said lightly, "Your pique, not
your anger?"

"Anger would be the next level. You do not wish to experience
that."

"What would my experiencing your pique entail?"

"I would begin with a call to Selina."

There was another pause. When Bruce spoke again, there was no
humor in his voice. "You wouldn't do that."

"Not only would I do so, her private number is on my speed
dial."

Another pause, this one shorter. "Deal. I'll be at Clark's
house in three hours. And if Selina wants to come, I'll bring
her to entertain the kids."

"Good. Please make certain he attends whatever athletic contest
is in season while you are here. Diana out."

She removed the earpiece and returned it to her pocket. She
looked at Clark, who had an odd expression on his face.

"Bruce will arrive at your home within three hours, Clark. It
might be best if you were there to greet him."

Clark nodded slowly. "I'm glad you directed that energy at him
and not at me. I don't know if I could take it right now."

She almost melted at his tone, then stiffened her spine and
almost smiled. "You could indeed have taken all that and much
more. You are the strongest man I have ever known."

"Thank you." He glanced at his watch and sighed. "The kids are
due back from their school field trip in about an hour. I have to
pick up Ellie from daycare, and I should have a snack ready for
them so they don't start eating the furniture."

She reached out and took his hand in hers to shake it. "I wish
you well, Clark. I hope you and Bruce have a very enjoyable visit
together."

She shook his hand with both of hers, feeling the strength and
power flow back into his fingers, and she knew he would be well.

She turned to go, then hesitated. "One more thing. Bruce may be
accompanied by Selina, so what she calls 'zany hijinks' may
very well ensue."

His eyes changed shape behind his glasses. "Oh, boy. Last time
she visited, Marta ended up climbing every tree in the
neighborhood. Scared some of the adults pretty badly when their
kids tried to follow her."

Diana almost laughed. "Then consider yourself warned. We will
meet again, I am certain. Goodbye for now."

She turned and walked away, pleased that she had helped him.
Already his voice was lighter, his eyes were clearer, and he
appeared to carry less of the world on his shoulders. Bruce's
visit would give him the freedom to laugh, and contact with
Selina would make him smile. Her unconventional approach to life
would demonstrate to Clark that there was still reason to look
forward to the future with anticipation.

If all of this did not take place, Bruce would surely feel her
pique.

***

Late that evening, as Diana sifted through the late night
after-office paperwork with which every diplomat must deal, her
phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hey, Shorty! Missed you today. I think you would have enjoyed
yourself."

She smiled. "Hello, Selina. Did Clark and Bruce have a good time
together?"

"Yeah, they did. Didn't go to a ballgame, though. They ended up
in some ship museum on the Virginia coast and looked at old
sailing ships all afternoon. Bruce and Spitcurl both came back
smiling."

"I am pleased that they had a pleasant day together. What did
you do?"

"Oh, I took the kids to the mall for a while and then we found a
little museum of locks."

Diana frowned in confusion. "What kind of locks?"

"The kind that don't keep people like me out."

"Oh." She pondered that statement for a moment, then had a bad
thought. "Selina, please do not tell me that you taught Marta
how to pick a lock."

"Of course not."

"Good. I was concerned that you--"

"I just lectured them on the weaknesses of various key locking
systems and told them about the lock-picking championships in
Holland and Germany and how easy it really is to get into places
people don't want you to be in without using their special
abilities."

Diana closed her eyes. "Selina, please do not think that I am
angry with you -- or even displeased -- but perhaps it would be
best if Clark did not know of this particular escapade."

"Clark made me promise not to climb any trees or take them
prowling in Gotham, so I had to do something with them! And it's
not like I took them through a hotel and left all the doors
standing open."

"I only hope that Jon and Marta do not decide to employ their
new-found knowledge in a way that might embarrass their
father."

Diana heard the teasing tone come into Selina's voice.
"Interesting that you make not embarrassing Clark your most
urgent objection to my educational choices. And what harm could
it do? They can look through the doors if they want to see
what's there. Do you know, I think little Ellie understood
almost as much of what I was saying as the other two? She
listened as hard as the others combined."

"Yes, and if there is a toddler-driven crime wave in Metropolis,
Clark will blame me for you being with the children and teaching
them about such things!"

Selina's answering laugh was almost a cackle. "I doubt that
Ellie's siblings would let her put any stunts like that. Anyway,
I got to go. Just wanted to touch base with you and fill you in
so Bruce wouldn't have to."

"What? He does not wish to -- Selina, is Bruce vexed with me?"

"No. He just didn't want to feel your pique, whatever that
means."

This time Diana laughed. "I am certain he will tell you what it
means when the two of you are safe in Gotham."

"Safe, huh? This I gotta hear. G'night, Shorty. We'll talk
again soon."

***

>>> Chapter Thirteen

*Four years and three months after Lois' funeral*

Standing alone at the Kent front door early on a Friday evening
in early summer, Diana Prince was all but terrified.

She told herself it was ridiculous. She'd faced evil in many
forms, fought against invaders coming against her homeland and
from space to attack the Earth, not to mention the homegrown evil
that man's world -- and even Paradise Island -- faced altogether
too often. She'd captured thieves and burglars and murderers and
blackmailers, helped bring down tyrannical governments, helped
save countless lives from both natural and unnatural disasters,
and had even traveled through space to other worlds to defend her
home. She had worked with and fought alongside Superman and
Batman for truth and justice on several occasions, had shared
meals with the two men, and had appeared at several 'news
conferences' with them, events whose which true purpose still
puzzled her.

Yet two teenagers and one preschooler kept her trembling hand by
her side.

She'd agreed to come to dinner. She'd welcomed the invitation
at the time, knowing that Clark might not have any more intention
of a more-than-friend relationship now than at any other time in
the past. Besides the time they'd met accidentally as she
sketched Lois' headstone, she'd met him at Lois' grave twice,
once with Clark alone when he'd been particularly despondent.
There had also been one slightly uncomfortable evening when she,
Superman, Batman, and Selina in her Catwoman persona had joined
forces to relieve what Batman had informed them was a hostage
situation in a Gotham criminal's hideout, but which turned out
to be a birthday dinner for Selina. Because she had not known
Selina's friends well, she had stayed close to Superman the
entire night, prompting Selina to tease her about double-dating
with her and Batman. She was still at a loss to understand how
Batman could interact with those lawbreakers on any kind of
personal level, unless it was for Selina's sake.

She'd also learned that Superman had been aware of the ruse
before entering the hideout and had hid his knowledge from Diana
and Selina. It was the first time she'd learned that Superman
could blush. The reasons for his reaction were still something of
a mystery to her, though she still thought it charming.

Diana had known Lois only slightly, but had liked her from their
first meeting at Queen Hippolyta's diplomatic reception in
Jamaica. Lois had asked some leading questions about Diana's
personal life, about her romantic entanglements, about her royal
responsibilities, and especially about her preference in men.
Diana had smiled softly and replied that she wished Clark had an
unmarried twin brother who was much like him, and had smiled
wider as she'd teasingly accused Lois of cheating every other
woman on Earth by taking the best man on the planet permanently
off the market, because there was no way Clark would look at
another woman as long as he and Lois were married.

After a long moment, Lois had smiled back and apologized, both
for being suspicious and for claiming Clark from all the 'other
women on Earth.' After that they'd gotten along fairly well.
Now Diana's main regret was that she hadn't invested enough
time in a relationship with Lois to be called a good friend.

She hoped that Lois would have approved of her. Diana wasn't
sure she could live up to the example the late great Lois Lane
had set before her.

Enough prevarication! Either activate the door announcer or walk
away, she told herself. The children would not eat her.

After a moment, she convinced her hand to rise. She pressed the
button and stepped back, then smoothed the imaginary lines from
her skirt and crossed her hands in front of her body.

She was royalty in her home nation. She wasn't nervous at all.
She wouldn't allow herself to be nervous.

The door opened to reveal the two terrifying teenagers and she
got nervous all over again.

"Hi," said the younger one. "I'm Marta and this is my brother
Jon. You must be Diana Prince."

Diana put on her princess parade smile and nodded. "I am. And I
am pleased to see both of you again, Marta and Jon."

"You've met us?" asked Jon.

"Yes, but it has been several years, and each of us was somewhat
younger then. It would surprise me if you remembered me."

Marta leaned over and looked past her visitor. "Ooh, you have a
big limousine," she deadpanned. "Can we get a ride in it
sometime? Pretty pretty please?" Marta hesitated for a moment,
then mimed jumping up and down with obviously false excitement.

Oh, good, thought Diana, hostile forces encountered upon initial
reconnaissance. Recommended response: engage hostiles on their
terms.

In a similar flat voice, Diana replied, "Only if you are a very
good little girl. And at this point I have a few reservations
about that."

Marta cocked her head to one side and frowned slightly. "No, no,
you're supposed to make campaign promises and flatter us with
shallow compliments. Didn't you read the memo?"

Diana's eyes narrowed and she straightened regally. "I do not
'campaign' for anything, young lady, especially for your
affections, and any compliments I might offer to you must be
earned. At this point in time, while I have no words of censure
for you, I also have no words of praise."

Marta's eyebrows both rose and her lips parted. For a moment the
two women glared at each other, then Marta smiled sincerely and
opened the door wider. "Good evening, Ms. Prince. Won't you
please come in?"

Diana stood where she was and looked at Jon. "Shall we fence
also, young man? Or have I received your permission to enter your
domain?"

Jon crossed his arms and sighed. "That's a fair question, if a
bit direct."

"I am only following the example of your sister."

"True." He nodded and stepped back. "Please come in, Ms.
Prince. I promise not to ambush you while you're here."

"Thank you."

Diana knew what she'd see. It was a modest two-story house in
one of the nicer suburbs of Metropolis, and it was not only neat
and spotless both inside and out but warm and inviting. She'd
visited once with Bruce during Lois' "wake," a custom she
still did not fully understand, but since then it had been
redecorated in softer tones and with sturdier furniture. As soon
as Marta shut the door behind her, she stopped in the front room
and inhaled deeply.

"Mmm! Whatever is being prepared for dinner has a marvelous
aroma. Who is cooking?"

Jon gestured for her to follow him and headed toward the kitchen.
"My dad, of course. If he weren't the Daily Planet's general
editor and a multiple Kerth, Meriwether, and Pulitzer Prize
winner, he could be on the staff of any restaurant in the world.
You should taste what he can do with leftovers. Sometimes
they're better than the original meal."

Diana smiled again. "I have sampled his culinary skills a few
times, Jon. I am not surprised that this meal is already
stimulating my taste buds."

Marta tapped her on the arm and Diana stopped. "Yes, Marta? You
have a question for me?"

"Yeah. How come you talk so funny?"

Diana's eyebrows rose this time. "I might ask the same question
of you. Although I would probably utilize proper English grammar
in my query."

Jon snorted a laugh. "I'd quit while I was close to even if I
were you, Mart. This lady isn't going to take any guff from
you."

Marta swept past them and tossed a silent glance at her visitor,
one which seemed to promise more verbal sparring later. Diana
returned it as firmly as she felt comfortable doing, hopefully
without any implied challenge.

As she watched the fourteen-year-old girl disappear into the
kitchen she felt a tug on her skirt. She looked down to see a
four-year-old girl in a one-piece coverall sporting a purple
cartoon dinosaur on her chest.

Diana bent down and smiled. "Hello, young lady. My name is
Diana. What is yours?"

"It's Ellen, but ev'body calls me Ellie 'cause they think
I'm still a baby."

"You do not appear to be a baby to me. What do you want me to
call you?"

"You can call me Ellie too. You're almos' tall as my daddy."

Diana gave her a mock sigh. "Yes, I know. It means I must have
most of my clothes made especially for me instead of shopping at
retail stores for them like other women."

"Are you going to be my new mommy?"

The question jarred Diana. She spent a long moment gathering her
thoughts as she went down on one knee beside her new
interrogator. "I do not know the answer to your question, Ellie.
I have not been asked."

"Okay. What would you say if Daddy asked you?"

Diana tilted her head to one side. "You are most inquisitive.
Perhaps you and I should get to know each other better before we
discuss such an eventuality. After all, the arrangement which you
suggest would involve you and your older siblings. "

Rather than look puzzled at Diana's vocabulary, Ellie nodded.
"Good idea. You wanna eat dinner with us?"

"Well, I was invited to share your dinner. By your father, that
is."

"Okay. Will you sit next to me? I'll tell you what's good and
what's icky."

"Icky? Your father is an excellent chef, Ellie. What might he
prepare that would be icky?"

Ellie leaned in and whispered, "Daddy's cooking veggies
tonight!"

***

By the end of the meal, Diana had relaxed. Jon had kept his word
and not tried to ambush her, although he had asked a number of
questions about the role of men in the lives of the Amazons.
She'd answered most of his questions honestly and openly, save
for the few she had allowed Clark to prohibit. So Jon did not
learn about Amazonian weddings, honeymoon traditions, or the
location of Paradise Island that evening.

After a few gentle jabs and parries between them, Marta had
backed off and done a lot of listening. And Ellie had laughed
with them and asked a few surprisingly mature questions of her
own. For his part, Clark had mostly listened and smiled, speaking
only when addressed or when the questions became more personal
than he deemed appropriate.

In turn, Diana learned first-hand about Jon's desire to be a
doctor so he could save lives and his current standing as an
advanced junior in his pre-med course of study. She also learned
that Marta had a similar life-saving goal, but had not yet
decided on the best career path to achieve it. Diana assured her
that she had sufficient time to make that choice, and that making
a hasty decision on such an important matter was not the best
thing she might do.

As Diana set down her fork for the last time, Marta asked,
"Would you like some dessert? We have strawberry shortcake with
whipped cream. It's really good."

Diana smiled at her. "And did your father prepare that dish
also?"

"No." The girl hesitated, then blurted out, "I did and you may
not like it but I think it's great and so does Dad so I just
kind of thought that you'd--"

"Then I shall sample this delicacy, Marta. May I assist you in
serving the rest of the gathering?"

Marta gave her a relieved smile. "No! I mean, no thank you.
You're our guest tonight. I'll get it for you."

The girl almost scrambled to the kitchen. Diana leaned back and
said, "Thank you for inviting me here tonight, Clark. It has
been a very long time since I enjoyed an evening this much."

Ellie piped up, "Can I have some strawb'ry shortcake too?"

Her father smiled. "Sweetie, you've had a big dinner and it's
close to your bedtime. I'm not sure you should put so much in
your tummy right before you go to sleep."

"Aww, Daddy! Please?"

Diana lifted her hand. "Excuse me? Clark? Perhaps Ellie and I
might share my dessert. I feel certain that Marta's creation
will be more delicious than one person could consume alone."

Jon snickered. "I'm not sharing mine. I know how good that
stuff is gonna be."

Clark pursed his lips, then nodded. "Okay, Ellie, you can share
with Diana. But you have to stop when I say so. Okay?"

"Yaaay!" The four-year-old clapped her hands and bounced in her
chair.

Marta chose that moment to return to the dining room. She
carefully balanced the tray of dessert bowls on the edge of the
table, then took one off and placed it before Diana before
repeating the process with the rest of her family.

Diana lifted her eyebrows in surprise. She didn't recall seeing
sliced strawberries piled atop small round cakes with tiny
battlements baked along the edges before, nor did she remember
seeing the whipped whiteness piled atop them. And crowning each
dessert was a whole strawberry, sitting majestically atop the
concoction.

Marta's forlorn voice broke into her reverie. "You don't like
it, do you?"

"I do not know. I have never before tasted such a treat."

"Really? You've never had this? I was afraid you -- I thought
you went to all those state dinners and formal parties and
stuff."

Diana lifted her gaze to the apprehensive girl. "I do attend
such functions, but not as often as some might think. And while I
have sampled dessert treats such as cherries jubilee, baked
Alaska, and chocolate mousse, I have never been served this."
She lifted her spoon and hesitated. "I am unsure of the proper
technique here."

Ellie heaved a sigh of great exasperation. "You just push your
spoon down on the cake and take a bite, silly. It's not rocket
surgery."

Diana glanced at the young girl, who wore the face of an imp.
"Very well, I shall do as you instruct."

Down went the spoon. Up came a torn-off piece of shortcake, along
with some of the whipped cream and a slice of strawberry. It
entered her mouth and she tasted it cautiously.

It was incredibly wonderful!

She dropped her spoon to the table in surprise and Marta nearly
burst into tears. "I knew you wouldn't like it! I knew it!"

Diana managed to swallow what she'd tasted, then turned her
enormous eyes on the girl. "No! You misunderstand! This is the
best thing I have eaten in man's world!" She grabbed her spoon,
then took another bite and swallowed it quickly. "Ever!"

Two more rapid bites followed, then Ellie tapped her on the arm.
"Hey! Where's mine? You said you were gonna share!"

Diana leaned away from the child and grabbed her bowl from the
table. "I shall not divide this ambrosia with you, young lady!
You deceived me with your youthful wiles and attempted to hide
this bounty from me! This is mine!"

Ellie's face fell. "But you promised!"

Diana hesitated as if battling herself, then relented. "Oh, very
well. You may have a small bite."

The girl beamed again. "Can I use your spoon?"

"I believe your sister brought an Ellie-sized spoon for you. You
may take a small bite. Assuming you are properly deferential to
your sister who has labored long and hard to prepare this divine
treat."

"Hear that, Squirt?" Marta crowed. "You have to be properly
deferential to me!"

"You better make sure I get some shortcake or I'll put 'nother
garter snake in your bed!"

Before any of the females at the table could say anything else,
Clark burst out laughing. Jon joined him almost immediately.
Ellie stared at her father and brother, but Diana whispered to
her, "Let them laugh. It will mean more shortcake for us. Come,
let us enjoy this wonder."

The two of them shared the treat as Clark, Jon, and Marta watched
and smiled.

***

Diana all but forced them to allow her to help clear the table
simply by standing and carrying dishes to the kitchen sink. "I
didn't think princesses did housework," Jon offered.

"I cannot answer for princesses in other lands," Diana
responded, "but when I was eleven, I was given the task of
washing dishes for my mother's personal guard. Since there were
twelve of them and they ate in shifts of four at a time, it made
for a long day of washing."

Marta turned on the water to rinse the dishes. "And you just did
it? Didn't you hate it?"

"Oh, of course I despised the task. I believed that I, who might
one day become queen of Themyscira, was far too important to
waste my time cleaning plates and pots and goblets for women who
would one day be my servants. Then my mother took me aside and
explained to me that a true leader is one who serves her people
instead of commanding them to serve her." She took a stack of
dishes and handed them to Jon, who placed them in the dishwasher
just so. "I did not listen at the time, of course, because I was
young and proud and too full of my own self-importance, but since
then I have learned the truth of that statement."

Marta passed over the stack of bowls to Diana, who looked at them
longingly and sighed before handing them to Jon. "Marta, you
must teach me how to prepare strawberry shortcake. It is by far
the most wonderful dessert I have ever tasted."

Marta blushed and ducked her head. "I bet you're just saying
that to be polite."

"I am not. One does not serve others through deception, even
well-intended deception. Will you teach me?"

Marta turned her glowing face upward. "You really mean it?"

Diana smiled back. "I do. This is a compliment which you have
more than earned. And should I be invited to share dinner with
you again, I would request politely but most emphatically that
you prepare it then." She leaned down and stage-whispered,
"Consider it a personal favor to me."

Marta winked back. "No sweat. It'll be even better next
time."

"I do not see how it could be better. Have we any further
preparations to make before activating the dishwashing
machine?"

Jon checked the detergent reservoir and shook his head. "Nope.
We're ready to push the magic button."

"Good. What shall we do now?"

"I think Dad's got a movie or two set up. And before you ask, I
don't know the titles."

Diana grinned at both of them. "Then let us repair to the
movie-viewing room and learn of your father's choices."

They walked into the living room to find Ellie clad in her
pajamas and frowning in Clark's arms. "I'm sorry, Diana, but
she wants to talk to you before she goes to bed."

Diana smiled and reached for the little girl. "Then she shall
speak with me. But not for long, young lady. You must maintain a
consistent sleep schedule."

"But I want you to read to me!" the girl whined.

"Ah, but your father wishes for you to go to sleep. You do not
wish to disobey your father, do you?"

"No. But I want you to read to me!"

Diana glanced at Clark, who nodded. "Very well. Since your
father has given his permission, I will read to you. Where shall
I sit?"

Ellie leaned back and pointed to a bentwood rocking chair in the
corner of the room. Diana didn't miss the suppressed gasp of
surprise from the other three, so she turned her head and asked,
"Is this permitted?"

Jon and Marta looked at their father.

Clark looked at his son and older daughter.

As one, the three of them smiled slightly and nodded.

Diana turned back to Ellie. "Very well, I shall sit in that
chair and read to you. But you must choose what I am to read."

The girl wiggled until Diana set her down. She bounced toward the
bookcase and grabbed a medium-sized tome, then brought it back to
Diana and pulled her to the rocking chair.

The two of them nestled into the chair until both were
comfortable, then Diana lifted the book. "What? Ellie, you want
me to read 'Introduction to Quantum Theory of Subatomic
Particles' to you?"

"Yes."

"Whatever for?"

"Cause I wanna learn about it. I'm gonna be a nuclear
physicist--" she pronounced the words slowly and carefully but
correctly "--when I grow up."

"I see. Very well, I shall read it to you. Where shall we
begin?"

"At the beginning, of course. Chapter one. I already read the
other stuff like the four words and the dead vacation and the
before face."

"What does -- oh, you mean the dedication and the preface, do
you not?"

"Yeah, that's them. Now I wanna learn about the physics
part."

Diana smiled again. "Very well. But you must tell me when you
begin to tire. This is a challenging subject for adults, so I do
not expect you to finish the book tonight."

Ellie laid her head on Diana's shoulder. "I'll tell you when I
get tired."

"Good. Then let us begin. Hmm. Here we are. Chapter one. 'The
study of quantum physics is the study of very tiny particles, all
of them too small to be seen without the aid of very powerful
microscopes, and the manner in which they interact with each
other and with the macro world. These particles are smaller than
molecules, smaller than atoms, and in some cases, smaller than
the electrons which orbit the nucleus of the atom.' Does that
make sense to you, Ellie?"

The girl nodded. "Pretty much. I already learned some stuff
about atoms."

"Then we shall continue. 'These particles are so small that
even shining a light on them changes the qualities of the
particles, because the individual photons which make up a beam of
light are often the same size as the particles, if not larger.'
My, that is very small."

Ellie pointed at the book. "Keep reading, please."

Diana smiled and continued.

***

"'--and so we can determine either the speed in which these
particles are moving or their current location, but not both.'"
Diana stopped and shook her head. "I never knew how interesting
quantum theory was before tonight."

The girl on her shoulder didn't respond. "Ellie?" whispered
Diana. "Are you still awake?"

The only response Ellie gave was to take a deeper breath and
reach up to gently hold Diana's neck. "Clark?" she whispered.
"I believe our little physicist is ready for bed."

Her father padded over softly and tried to take the girl from
Diana's lap, but Ellie moaned, "No! Mommy D put me to bed."

Both Diana and Clark froze for a moment and looked at each other.
Clark spoke first. "You don't have to," he whispered.

Diana knew her eyes were damp as she smiled. "But I wish to. May
I?"

Clark's smile lit up the room. "Of course. Up the stairs, down
the hall, second door to the left. Her nightlight's already
on."

"Thank you. I shall return in a few moments."

She slowly carried the sleeping child to her bedroom, surprised
at her own reluctance to release her. As she settled the girl in
her bed and pulled the covers up, Ellie grunted and turned onto
her side to face Diana.

"Do you like me?"

"What sort of silly question is this? Of course I like you,
Ellie. You are a wonderful little girl. And very intelligent,
also. Not many Amazons of your age would comprehend such a
complex subject as quantum theory so well as you."

"I like you too."

Diana arranged the bedclothes so the girl's chest was covered
but her arms were free. "Thank you. You are a wonderful young
lady. You make it very easy for me to like you."

"G'night, Mommy D."

The endearment shook Diana to the core. She leaned over and
kissed the girl softly on the cheek and whispered, "Good night,
beautiful one. Sleep well."

She stood and stepped to the foot of the bed and watched Ellie
drift off again.

The girl had called her "Mommy D." Twice. The endearment went
straight to her heart and penetrated all her carefully
constructed defenses.

Diana had, years ago, given up any vague plans she might have had
for a family of her own. There were too many responsibilities,
too many demands on her time, and too few available men whom she
respected enough to even consider marriage. She'd decided that
she would live and rule, if called upon, as a single woman, and
pass the throne along to her most qualified niece.

But somewhere -- maybe during dessert or maybe as Diana had read
to her -- little four-year-old Ellie had wrecked those plans with
a few simple words and a request for Diana to put the child to
bed. Now Diana could not only contemplate being a mother, she
suddenly wanted to be this little one's mother. And if that
meant dealing with an occasionally bratty teenaged girl and an
older brother who was all but grown himself, then she'd take on
that responsibility most willingly.

Assuming, of course, that Clark would also think it was a good
idea.

And that Ellie didn't change her mind.

And that both Jon and Marta agreed. The last thing Diana wanted
to do was to disrupt this wonderful family. Clark and Lois had
gotten these young ones off to an excellent start, Clark had done
so much to aid in their continued growth and maturity, and it
would be an utter travesty for another woman to barge in and
wreck what they had built together.

So she wiped her eyes dry, sniffed back a small sob, and gently
closed the bedroom door as she left the room. She'd wait and see
what might happen in the future.

She already knew what she hoped might happen.

***

>>> Chapter Fourteen

Clark watched Diana carry his little girl to her bedroom. As they
passed from sight around the corner, he let out a breath he
didn't realize he was holding. "That was -- unexpected."

Marta reached out and took her father's arm. "I don't think
Ms. Prince saw it coming either. I know I didn't."

Jon leaned in from the other side. "Did you hear what she called
Ellie? She called her 'our little physicist.' Not 'your
daughter' or 'your little one,' Dad, but 'our.' That lady's
a keeper."

Clark turned to his son in mock affront. "And what would you
know about it, young man who doesn't have a steady
girlfriend?"

Jon chuckled. "If you don't ask her to marry you, I might.
She's as much a one in a million lady as Mom ever was."

All of Clark's false mockery fell away. "You really think
so?"

"Yep. I've never seen Ellie take to anyone like she has to Ms.
Prince. And in just one night, too."

"Yeah, Dad," Marta put in. "And did you see how sensitive she
was about Mom's rocker? She asked our permission before she sat
down. No one else has ever done that before. All those other
broads--"

"Marta!"

"I'm sorry, Dad, but they were! They either turned their noses
up at it or just plopped themselves down as if you'd already
married them. Ms. Prince gently asked our permission, and if we
hadn't given it I bet she would've smiled and sat somewhere
else without batting an eye."

Clark sighed. "There weren't that many other women."

"I think five was five too many. You should have brought her
over first."

"Oh, right," Jon muttered, "that would have gone so well. Sis,
you would've thrown her out on her ear if she'd come over just
a few months ago, or at least tried to."

Marta smiled back. "Maybe, maybe not. Did you see how she
treated us, like young adults instead of little kids, like those
other broads? And don't say it, Dad!" She reached up and pulled
her father's face down to hers and kissed him on the cheek.
"You don't have to go any farther with her if you don't think
it's the right thing to do, but if you both want to, you have my
blessing."

"Mine too," Jon said.

"Thank you kindly for your permission, both of you," Clark
mock-growled. "Now, before she comes back, which movie do you
think we should watch?"

Together, the two young people said, "Princess Bride."

Clark's eyebrows lifted at his son. "Really? You're not trying
to send out a subliminal message, are you?"

Jon's eyebrows rose in imitation of his father. "Who, me? I'm
as innocent as a new-born lamb."

"Me too, Dad," Marta added.

Diana rounded the corner of the stairs at that moment with a
feathery glow lighting her face. When she got to the ground
floor, she smiled at him. "Ellie is in bed and is already
asleep. She is a wonderful little girl, Clark. You have all done
a marvelous job with her."

"Thank you, Diana," Clark replied. "That means a lot to me. To
us, I mean."

"Ms. Prince, have you ever seen 'The Princess Bride?' It's a
great movie."

Diana tilted her head to one side in apparent thought. "I do not
believe so, Marta. What is it about?"

"Oh, it's a terrific story about a grandfather who comes to see
his grandson who's sick and reads him this book about
sword-fighting and giants and a kidnapped princess and a pirate
and a six-fingered man and revenge and courage and cowardice
and--"

"And if you tell her the whole plot," Jon broke in, "she
won't have to watch it. Does that sound familiar to you, Ms.
Prince?"

"No, it does not. I believe I would enjoy it. And I would also
be pleased if the two of you would address me as Diana."

Jon squinted at her. "I don't know. Dad's pretty old-fashioned
about us not calling adults by their first names. How about Miss
Diana as a compromise?"

Marta rolled her eyes at her brother. "Really, Jon? 'Miss
Diana?' You make her sound like some old Southern matriarch."
She turned to Diana. "We're sticking with Ms. Prince, at least
for now. Okay?"

Diana's soft silver laugh echoed against Clark's memories and
made him think of Lois. "Very well, you two, I shall bear up
under the twin burdens of your continued deference and respect. I
shall be 'Ms. Prince' to you until your father feels
comfortable with another form of address, hopefully one a bit
more familiar."

The smile wasn't Lois', nor the laugh, nor the posture, and
certainly not the face. Lois would always live in his mind as the
most beautiful woman he'd ever known, and he would never forget
a single one of the moments they'd shared.

But for the first time, Clark didn't perceive that having
another woman in the house would be an invasion or an attempt to
replace Lois in his heart. Diana seemed to understand not only
where he was coming from but where he was going, even if he
himself wasn't all that sure of his destination. His children
had taken to her. He knew and respected her, both personally and
professionally, and he sensed no hint that she would prefer to be
Superman's bride instead of Clark Kent's wife. None of the
other women he'd brought home to meet the family had known of
his dual identity, and it hadn't stopped any of them from
gushing about Superman. One had even had the poor manners to
giggle that it wouldn't bother her to "ease Superman's
troubled mind." He flinched as he recalled how quickly that
evening had ended.

This evening, however, was still going very well. Maybe this
would work out after all. And if he and Diana didn't develop a
romantic relationship, they could still be good friends.

He stepped back and gestured to the couch. "Shall we view this
oft-told tale with one to whom it is fresh and new?"

Marta looked at him, her face expressionless. "You're trying
too hard, Dad. I'll bring in a couple of bowls of popcorn so we
can watch the movie. Do you like popcorn, Ms. Prince? Or is that
something else of which you've been deprived?"

"Popcorn would be wonderful, Marta, thank you. Not too much
salt, however, and please do not drown it with butter." She
patted her stomach and sighed. "I have reached the age when I
must observe my caloric intake closely, lest I be forced to
purchase larger garments."

Jon grinned at her. "Ms. Prince, I think you should sit between
Dad and Marta. I'll sit on the other side of my cootie-infested
sister. Assuming that's okay with Dad, of course."

Clark took Diana's elbow and guided her to the couch. "I think
that would be just fine."

***

Mark Knopfler's acoustic guitar softly floated over the end
credits as the four of them sat on the couch, each unwilling to
be the first to break the mood. Clark glanced at Diana and saw
moisture in her eyes, then looked at his daughter and saw the
same thing.

Then he saw something he'd missed before. Marta and Diana were
holding hands.

He didn't know when they'd first clasped hands, but as he
watched they looked at each other and nodded at the same time.
Diana almost whispered, "Thank you, Marta."

Then Clark's haughty, ultra-cool, completely together, and
totally mature teenaged daughter shocked him by throwing her arms
around the older woman's neck and holding tight while her eyes
leaked. Jon chose that moment to lean around the two women and
give his father two thumbs up.

Clark lifted one eyebrow and pointed at the TV. Jon shook his
head, pointed at Diana and Marta, then gave him a monstrous grin
and repeated his thumbs-up gesture.

Then he stood and stretched out his arms to each side, yawned,
and said, "Boy, I'm wiped out. That movie is great but I always
feel so tired after I watch it, especially with all that kissing
and hugging and sword-fighting and other stuff. Well, I'm off to
bed. I have a lot of library research to do tomorrow. Got to keep
up that med school GPA."

He was up the stairs and around the corner before anyone could
stop him. Marta released Diana and said, "That's my brother. He
hates it when I cry over a movie."

"That's true, Diana. You should see how those two reacted to
'The Notebook.' Polar opposites."

Diana slipped the girl's embrace and chuckled. "I am familiar
with that one. I suppose he laughed at his sister as she wept for
the poor couple who were separated by the woman's unfortunate
mental deficiency."

Marta nodded. "You nailed it. I cried until I could barely see.
He laughed at me until he fell on the floor." She lifted her
finger to make a point. "But he didn't laugh at their
situation. I think it hit a little close to home for him."

Diana softly answered, "And for you also, I would think."

"Yeah, I guess that was part of it too."

Diana took both of Marta's hands in hers. "I am glad that I
first watched this particular photoplay with you and your
brother. You both made it most enjoyable."

"Hey!" Clark said. "I was here too!"

Marta pulled one hand loose, then reached out and patted his
knee. "Of course you were, Father. I'm just glad you were able
to stay awake this late."

"Oh, really? How about I take you over my knee and show you how
awake and alert I am?"

Marta jumped up and leaped toward the stairs. "Never mind! You
two say goodnight, but don't take too long! Older people need
their sleep, you know."

Diana didn't say anything, but Clark saw Marta's gaze rest on
their guest for a long moment before she spun away and started
bunny-hopping up the stairs. Just before Clark spoke up and told
her to be quiet, Diana stage-whispered, "Do not awaken your
sister!"

Marta all but froze in mid-hop, then softly and gently continued
upstairs and down the hall to her room. Diana turned to Clark and
waved her hands. "Please forgive me, Clark. It is not my place
to correct your children. I shall not do so again."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, she quieted down. That's the
important thing. And if Ellie had gotten up, I'm pretty sure you
would've had to put her back to bed." He hesitated, then asked,
"Would you -- Are you thirsty? Do you want something to drink?
Coffee? Iced tea?"

She smiled and put her hand on his arm. "No, thank you. I should
be going. As Jon said, it is late, and I require rest even if you
do not."

He stood and put out his hand for her. She took it and rose
effortlessly. And she ended up standing closer to him than he
thought was safe.

They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment, then Diana
moved back a half-step. "Thank you for inviting me, Clark. I do
not recall when I have enjoyed any evening this much."

He lifted the hand he was still holding and bussed it with his
lips. "I enjoyed it too. And all three of the kids approve of
you."

He was surprised by her sudden blush. "Oh, please do not flatter
me. Marta, I think, was happy to share the movie with me. I am
not so certain about Jon, however."

"I am. He told me that if I don't make a move pretty soon, he
would."

Her other hand flew to her mouth to cover her most un-royal snort
of laughter. "He did not!"

"He did. In fact, both of them gave me encouragement to -- um --
to see where this relationship might lead."

"I see." She smiled again and ducked her head. "In that case,
would it be both proper and appropriate for me to initiate a
good-night kiss?"

Clark tilted his head quizzically. "With me or with Jon?"

She snorted again, then punched him in the chest with her free
hand. He rubbed the spot as if truly hurt. "You know, I actually
felt that. You hit pretty hard, Ms. Prince."

"And you have put me off-balance, Mr. Kent. I have not snorted
in that fashion since before I took up the tiara and lasso."

"I'll put it in my journal of significant accomplishments."

Her grin lifted one side of her mouth. "I expected that you
would. Now, if you have fully drained your reservoir of witty
repartee, I would like my kiss before I depart."

He took her hands and pulled her closer. "Oh, so now it's
'your' kiss, eh?"

She stopped with her face inches from his. "Clark?"

"Yes?"

"In the words of one of your most talented and celebrated
musical philosophers, shut up and kiss me."

So he touched his hands to her elbows and obeyed her command.

It was soft, gentle, warm, and tender. It felt like 'good-bye
for now and I hope to see you soon' to Clark. It was not a
forever kiss, but it was a promise to explore the future
together. And it lasted just as long as it was supposed to.

She drifted back, her eyes still closed. "I -- ah -- that was --
a very good kiss."

He took a deep breath and let it out slow. "It was that."

She opened her eyes and looked into his face. "I should leave
now."

"Probably."

She slowly drifted back from him and slid her hands down his
forearms to grasp his fingers. "Definitely. But reluctantly, I
assure you."

"I'll walk you to the door."

"Only if you do not kiss me again. You breach my emotional
ramparts, Clark, and I do not wish to damage what may grow
between us by moving too quickly."

He let her step back to arm's length. "You're right. But I
plan to call you tomorrow."

"Good. When we next meet, I shall have my servants prepare a
picnic for five and we shall all dine in a private garden where
the press will not disturb us."

Hand in hand, they slipped across the carpet to the front door.
"Servants, huh? I thought Amazon princesses did things for
themselves."

"We usually do perform such functions for ourselves, but if I do
not allow the servants to do something for me occasionally, they
become surly and frustrated." She put her hand on the doorknob
and stopped. "Besides, I am reliably informed that they believe
that I would be a fool's fool if I did not allow this
relationship to move forward. Assuming that it does, of
course."

"I would like for us to move forward together. I'd like that
very much."

"So would I, my friend. But I do not wish to interfere with your
family relationships as they stand now. You have a wonderful and
powerful bond amongst you, and I would be hate myself were I to
interfere with the years you and Lois have invested in your
children. I believe there is time for us, Clark, and I am willing
to wait and see what the future brings us."

Clark took her hands in his and got serious. "I'm going to tell
you something about Lois, and I don't want you to think that
I'm comparing the two of you. I'm not. I wouldn't do that in a
million years. But Lois and I knew that she might not live a
normal lifespan when we married, and that I might outlive her
even if she did. We both knew we probably wouldn't have all
those years together, and we talked about it at great length. Do
you know what she told me?"

Diana inched closer to him and breathed, "No. What did she say
to you?"

"That it wasn't the years, it was the moments."

She frowned slightly and tilted her head. "I am not certain that
I understand your meaning."

"Sorry. What we meant is that the number of years wasn't as
important as the number of moments we had together, moments we'd
always remember because they were significant. That our love
wouldn't be measured by the number of those years, but by those
moments we made together. That we didn't know how many years we
might have, so we'd need to put as many good moments as we could
in those years." He sighed. "We had a lot of good moments."

"I -- I believe I understand now." She took a breath and held
it for a long moment, then said, "I am not confident that I am
able to live up to your memories of Lois."

He shook his head in the negative. "I don't want you to. I
don't want anyone to do that. If I marry again -- and I promise
you that I'm open to it -- I want a wife who is her own woman. I
don't want to marry someone who's going to try to impersonate
Lois Lane. It would be as frustrating as me marrying a widow and
trying to become her late husband. Nobody could make that mess
work out well."

She nodded back and seemed to relax a bit. "I think I understand
this also. I promise to be myself and not anyone else." She
smiled and moved closer again. "And in the spirit of that
promise, I would like to tell you something."

He nodded. "You can tell me whatever you want to tell me,
Diana."

Her eyes glimmered in the muted lighting. "Then I will make a
moment, for myself if not for both of us." She put her arms
around his neck and kissed him again, then pulled back and
smiled. "I love you, Clark Kent."

Her simple statement stunned him. In years past, Diana had
occasionally wondered aloud why anyone as powerful as himself
would bother with a civilian identity. She'd once suggested that
he drop his Clark Kent persona and become Superman full time. She
had always seemed puzzled by his aversion to the spotlight,
insisting that Superman could do so much more for mankind if he
didn't have a second life to take up so much of his time.

Did this mean that she'd changed her opinion of him?

She pulled him back to the present as her arms slipped away.
"And now I must take my leave. Please do not pursue me and
declare your own undying devotion to me. You must consider what
has taken place tonight and whether or not your feelings truly
reflect your heart, and that you are not simply reacting to the
moment."

"Uh -- okay. As long as you promise to do the same."

"I shall indeed. Whether or not you believe this, my intentions
for tonight included only dinner and pleasant conversation. I did
not come here tonight intending to declare my undying affection
for you. This -- this entire experience is quite new and fresh to
me. I find myself both frightened and exhilarated by the
possibilities in my future. And I am unsure of the course I
should chart."

He smiled. "I think I understand how you feel. I'm more than a
little frightened and exhilarated myself."

Diana's head tilted to one side. "And -- perhaps you are a bit
unsure?"

He nodded slowly. "More than a bit, but yes, I'm unsure."

"Then I hope that we shall resolve our differences as friends."
She dropped her eyes to the floor for a moment, then looked up at
him again as her smile faded. "Clark, do you recall my statement
some years ago that Superman could be a far more effective hero
and could do more to help humanity were he to be only
Superman?"

"Yes. I was just thinking about that."

She reached out and touched his wrist. "I now deeply regret that
statement and the pride which spawned it. I could not have been
more wrong. You are a good man, a very good man, and as much good
comes from you being Superman, I cannot envision this city -- or
this family -- being as healthy and safe as it is without Clark
Kent as its hero and protector." She reached back without
looking and opened the front door. "Good night."

The door slipped shut and Clark peeked through it to watch her.
With her head held high, her eyes forward and her step sure, she
walked briskly to the back of the limo where she opened the door
herself. A moment later the car purred away.

He turned to see Jon leaning against the foyer wall, his arms
crossed and a bright smile dancing on his lips. "When did she
say that picnic was scheduled, Dad?"

"The exact date is to be announced later. Why, do you have a
conflicting appointment?"

"I just don't want you to forget it, that's all."

"Watch it, son, I'm not over the hill yet."

"That's true." Jon straightened, stepped forward, and put his
hand on his father's shoulder. "I think Ellie will be a totally
cute flower girl."

Clark frowned. "That's enough for tonight. I thought you had to
be at the library early in the morning."

"I do, but I don't need sleep any more than you do. Besides,
Marta's waiting at the head of the stairs so I can fill her
in."

"What, she couldn't eavesdrop herself?"

"She's highly ethical, like you, whereas my ethics are a little
more flexible, like Mom's were." He lifted his hand and shook
his index finger at his father. "Speaking of ethics, I
distinctly remember hearing from Mom that you were the one who
first said that it wasn't the years but the moments. That's
inverse plagiarization or something."

"I don't think 'plagiarization' is a real word."

Jon shrugged. "My question stands, irregardless. And I already
know that 'irregardless' isn't a real word so don't correct
me."

Clark smiled at his son. "I think I did say it first, but your
mother and I said it to each other a lot. Neither of us wanted
the years to slip away without filling them with good moments."
He looked away and sighed, still smiling. "And I think we
did."

Jon's face grew serious. "Dad, I mean this. If you and Ms.
Prince should get married, I'd be proud to call her Momma D, or
Diana, or 'Hey you!' or whatever she wants me to call her. I
haven't seen you with this twinkle in your eyes for a long time,
and if she can keep it there I'm all for bringing her into the
family."

"Thank you, Son. Really." He shrugged. "I can't make any
promises at this point, but you obviously heard most of what we
said, so you know as much as I do. If it should happen, it will
happen."

"Oh, really? What about all those times before you were married
when you and Mom almost broke up or slipped apart or nearly got
permanently separated somehow? You need to push the situation if
you love her."

"You do know who Diana Prince is in her other job, right?"

"Of course I do. And I didn't mean for you to put any pressure
on Wonder Woman. I don't think that would work out very well at
all. What I meant was that you shouldn't just wait for things to
happen. Try helping Destiny along a little."

"Again, how many steady girlfriends have you had?"

"Don't be dense, Dad. You know why I don't have a
girlfriend."

"Uh, well, no, not really. You're going to have to spell that
one out for me."

Jon shook his head as if disgusted with his father. "It's you,
old man! I'm hanging around here single and unattached because
of you! Marta and I both want to find a suitable wife for you so
we can move ahead with our own lives!"

Clark's jaw dropped. He took off his glasses and rubbed his face
with his free hand.

Jon shook his head again. "I'm sorry, Dad, I thought you knew.
Marta and I made that deal on the first anniversary of Mom's
funeral. That's why she's so caustic toward the women you bring
home. She's testing them to see if they wilt under pressure."

"I see." He put his glasses back on. "And what is your role in
this interview process?"

"Peacemaker, in case Marta pushes our guest too far. She tried
it with Ms. Prince tonight, but Marta couldn't rattle her at
all. She took everything Mart threw at her and stood her ground
without getting defensive or angry."

"Was it part of the plan to hug our guest after the movie?"

"What? No! I was as surprised as you were. But we both think
Diana's the real deal. If you don't keep up this relationship,
Marta might move in with Diana and leave the two of us here to
deal with Ellie the super-genius toddler."

Clark laughed. "Come on, let's get some sleep. You fill Marta
in and I'll check on your little sister, and then I want the two
of you to leave me alone tomorrow. I've got some serious
thinking to do."

"Got it. And if you want any advice from either of us--"

"I'll find you and beat it out of you, just like I always do."
They two men shared a chuckle, then Clark headed for the back
bedroom on the lower level. "Good night, Son."

"Night, Dad. Sleep well."

***

Clark changed into his pajamas and sat on the edge of his bed.
The possibilities for the future roiled through his mind. Diana
had hinted very strongly that she'd marry him if he asked her in
the right way, at the right time, and for the right reasons. He
liked her very much and the kids seemed quite taken with her.
He'd been surprised but not uncomfortable when Marta had obeyed
Diana's admonition to be quiet and not wake up Ellie. It had
felt natural somehow.

Jon had told him how he and Marta felt. Ellie would surely be
pleased, assuming her four-year-old mind would remain constant.
Although, as he thought about it, he realized that Ellie hadn't
exchanged ten words with the other broads who had--

Women, he told himself, they were women! Doggone it, Marta had
him doing it now.

He knew how Jimmy and Darla would react. They'd be over the
moon, as the English say, and would insist on helping to plan the
wedding. Lucy would be just as enthusiastic. She'd insist on
checking out any prospective stepmom for Clark's kids, of
course, but he doubted she'd find fault with Diana.

He wondered for a long moment what his parents would have told
him. Probably to make sure she was willing to help raise another
woman's kids, then go forward with his decision.

They'd passed away within a month of each other two years before
and he still missed them terribly.

Then he thought about Lois' parents. Sam probably would have
advised him to stay unmarried, given the risks. Ellen, the
children's only living grandparent, would probably object to any
woman taking her daughter's place. She had even pitched seven
kinds of fits when Lucy had moved in with them for several months
after Lois' funeral. But Ellen's rock-solid help in their time
of trouble had saved Clark's sanity and kept Jon from breaking
down completely.

Perry would have smiled and related an Elvis anecdote, then put
his hand on Clark's shoulder and told him to check for spelling
and grammar errors on the license before he signed it.

The thought of signing something with Diana brought the thought
of a pre-nuptial agreement to his mind. Which, of course, was
ridiculous, since Diana was many times richer than he was. She
was an Amazon princess, after all.

And that made him think of Hippolyta, Diana's mother.

The one time they'd met, six years before at a U.N. summit in
Jamaica, the queen of the Amazons had come across to Superman as
more than just a little haughty and arrogant. She had all but
dismissed him from her sight and had focused in on Lois, who'd
been there to cover the event for the Planet and to get material
for her column, which by that time had gone international. The
woman had been insulting enough to him that Wonder Woman had
apologized to him for her mother after the event concluded.

He'd let Diana break the news to her mother. Assuming there was
any news to break, that is.

Funny. On Tuesday, he'd asked Diana to dinner, thinking that
maybe there might be some possibility for a closer relationship
between them. And now, on Friday night, he was thinking about
asking her to marry him. Even for him, that was fast.

He smiled to himself and began his nightly ritual.

The picture of Lois and the two older kids beside his bed was one
of his favorites. She was sitting on the grass in the back yard,
rocking mom jeans and a fresh haircut, and laughing as she held
eight-year-old Jon in one arm and five-year-old Marta in the
other. Both children were also laughing, and Marta's feet were
off the ground as if she were floating.

He remembered taking that picture. The day had been clear and
brilliant, with just enough cool north breeze to keep the
mosquitos grounded. He'd almost called out to the kids to be
gentle with their mother, but Lois was having such a good time
that he didn't have the heart.

His fingers touched the glass and he sighed. "Hey, Lois. It's
me again. I still miss you."

Memories of the woman he loved, the mother of the children he
once thought he'd never have, cascaded through his mind in a
parade of the moments they'd made together. Some of them made
him sad, but the immediate pain of losing her had dulled to a
mild ache in his heart. And so many more of those moments made
him smile that they far outweighed the sad ones.

He looked at the picture again and said, "I think I've met
someone who can love me almost as much as you did. And I think I
can love her almost as much as I loved you. The kids like her a
lot, especially little Ellie. That little girl is almost too
smart for me to handle and she's just four! If Diana and I
really do decide to get married, I'm going to need her help to
keep our littlest one from driving everyone around her crazy. She
had Diana reading to her from a quantum physics book tonight, and
I think Ellie understood more of it than I did."

He took off his glasses and lay back on the bed, then set the
picture on his chest. "Diana's a special lady. She's not like
you, but she is like you. She cares about right and wrong and
about doing the right thing. She told me tonight that she loved
me and wouldn't let me say anything back to her. No demands, no
expectations, no requirements, no conditions, she just said that
she loved me."

He looked directly into Lois's picture eyes. "And I mean she
said she loved Clark me, not Superman me. In fact, now that I
think about it, Superman wasn't a major topic of the
conversation at all." He tilted his head as if waiting for a
response, then said, "Yeah, I think that's promising too.

"Anyway, it's time for me to get some sleep. I love you and I
miss you, Lois. But I remember that you told me not to be alone.
There's a country song from the point of view of a young woman
whose husband or boyfriend or whoever has died and she's trying
to move forward with her life. She sings in the chorus that she
probably wouldn't hurt so bad if they hadn't loved each other
so much. That's pretty much how I feel about you. I wouldn't
miss you so much if you hadn't been such a wonderful wife and
mother and companion and everything else you were that completed
me."

He set the picture back on the end table and adjusted it just so.
"You'll always be a part of my life, Lois. Nearly everything I
have now is because of you. My career, our kids, the house, my
place in Metropolis, even my being Superman, is all because of
you. Oh, I know I would have ended up somewhere doing something
productive with my life even if I hadn't met you, but it
wouldn't have been as wonderful or anywhere near so fulfilling.

"Maybe life with Diana will be close to what we had. If it is,
then I'll be satisfied with it. And if it doesn't happen, I'll
be satisfied with that, too."

He turned off the bedside lamp and settled down under the covers.
"Goodnight, Lois. Sweet dreams."

***

>>> Epilogue

*Five months later*

Diana sat on the cemetery bench, her hands kneading her purse
over and over. She knew what she wanted to do. She even believed
she knew what she was supposed to do.

She simply didn't know if she could do it.

Clark's proposal -- along with a modest but quite beautiful
engagement ring -- had not surprised her. She had no doubt that
he loved her and that his proposal was both sincere and
heartfelt. She even believed he had thought through as many of
the possible future permutations as he could before broaching the
subject. As his knee had touched the ground and his hands had
grasped hers, she'd heard him say the words she'd been hoping
and praying he would one day say to her.

And instead of a tearful "Yes!" she'd asked for time.

He'd blinked several times, cryptically growled "Again?" at
something off to one side, then stood, turned to her face her
again, and nodded. "Okay," he'd said, "I think I've learned
some patience in the last two decades. Please take all the time
you need. I only ask that you give me something to hang on to,
some indication of where you're going with this."

She had promised that he would be the first one with whom she
would share her decision.

He had nodded again, then closed the ring box and handed it to
her. "Please. Keep this, and think about it. If you decide to
accept, just put the ring on and come show me. If you decide to
decline, just give me back the box with the ring in it. I won't
put any pressure on you, and I'll accept your decision no matter
what it is."

That had been four days before and she had heard nothing from
him.

Should she marry him? She wanted to. She loved Clark Kent and
wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

Was he ready to marry her? He said he was, and she believed him.

Were the kids in favor of the marriage? Jon and Marta had
campaigned for her and to her ever since that first family
dinner. And little Ellie had behaved as if Diana were already her
mother since that night.

So why was Diana so hesitant to accept?

Simple. It was because of Lois Lane.

Clark and the two older children had filled her with so many
stories of how great Lois had been and how driven she'd been to
be the best she could be that it had become intimidating. Then
she'd made the mistake of relating some of her trepidation to
her mother. Yes, Mother, it was foolish for a princess of
Themyscira to be intimidated by the memory of a simple human
woman. Of course, Mother, the Amazons were superior to mere human
women in every way. No, Mother, a normal run-of-the-mill human
woman -- or even a very special mere human woman -- could never
be perceived as being superior to the lowest Amazon. Not even the
Lois Lane whose life the Amazons still celebrated every year.

Hippolyta had not known Lois Lane-Kent very well at all.

And Diana feared that she'd never live up to such a lofty
standard.

A scrape of a shoe on the gravel path alerted her that she was no
longer alone. She quickly dried her eyes and inhaled deeply to
present the proper royal appearance to whoever was coming.

She stood, straightened herself regally, and turned, only to be
tackled around the leg by a preschool tornado. "Mommy D! I'm so
glad to see you! When are you coming to live with us? You need to
come home and kiss Daddy again 'cause he's so sad! He's not
sad when you're around so you need to come home with us!"

Marta strolled up and grinned. "Hey, Ms. Prince. I see you found
Ellie."

Diana picked up the little girl and kissed her on each cheek.
"Hello, little one. Have you been a good girl lately?"

"Yes! I knew you were here so I brought Mart to talk to you. Put
me down so I can go sit by Mommy, okay?"

"Of course. Here you go."

"Thank you. Have a good talk!" And just like that, she turned
and sprinted to Lois' grave and sat beside it.

Diana turned to see Marta already sitting on the bench. "How did
your sister know I was here? This -- visit was a
spur-of-the-moment decision."

Marta patted the bench beside her. "She reads you like I used to
read Mom."

Diana sat down and frowned at the teen. "She -- reads me? I do
not understand."

Marta shrugged. "I don't either, not really, except that it
seems to be from Dad's side of the family. I just knew when Mom
was in trouble or when she needed help or just needed any of us
for anything. In fact, I'm the one who made Uncle Jimmy and Aunt
Darla take us to the hospital the night Mom died. I think Jon has
the same kind of contact with Dad even if he won't talk about
it."

"I see. And Ellie appears to have this same sympathetic
communication with me?"

"Seems to, yeah. She knew you'd be here, so she got dressed and
put on her coat and informed me that we were going to see Mommy D
and I'd better come quick or Daddy would be mad at me for not
watching her good enough."

Diana chuckled. "That does sound like Ellie."

"Yeah, it does. But this doesn't sound like you. What's going
on? Why haven't you been to the house in the past few days?"

"I -- there is -- I have a -- a decision -- oh, bother! Your
father has asked me to marry him!"

Marta lifted her eyebrows. "You say that as if it were a bad
thing."

"It is not! I -- I do not feel ready."

"Ready? To do what, deal with Dad? You've been doing that as
Wonder Woman for years."

"No! I am quite comfortable dealing with your father in a
professional context. That is not the issue."

"You're comfortable with him, huh? I'd think he'd rather you
be passionate -- or at least pleased -- about dealing with him at
any time in any way. Maybe it's Jon, or me?"

Diana's voice softened. "No, Marta, please do not believe that.
You and your brother have done nothing but welcome me into your
home and into your family since that first dinner. I assure you,
the issue does not involve you, your brother, or your sister."

"Hmm. Not Dad, not the kids, not the idea of marriage, so is it
your family? Maybe they don't want you throwing your life away
raising another woman's kids. Or being a second wife to some
guy, even Superman."

"I -- admit that my mother can be -- difficult. And she is less
than completely enthusiastic about this proposed union. But that
is not the reason I am -- oh, what is an appropriate word?"

"Conflicted, hesitant, unsure, cautious, tentative, diffident,
undecided--"

Diana laughed ruefully. "Have you chosen a career as a walking
thesaurus?"

"Attorney, I think. Gotta know all those big words that take up
space and don't clarify anything."

They shared a chuckle, then Marta said, "I think we've narrowed
it down. You're afraid you won't measure up to Mom's
standards. Am I right?"

Diana ducked her head and stared at the ground. "Yes. I -- must
admit the truth of what you are saying." She lifted her head and
looked in Marta's direction without making eye contact. "Does
that not make me a coward?"

"No." Marta scooted closer and took Diana's hand in hers. "It
makes you thoughtful and humble. And a little uninformed."

"What? Uninformed?"

"Look, I loved my mother and I'll defend her against anyone who
attacks her, but you have to know she wasn't perfect. I can't
tell you all the times she missed lunch or dinner or some school
function or her publisher's deadlines because she couldn't --
or wouldn't -- quit sticking her neck out and daring some moron
to chop her head off. Dad always swooped in at the last minute to
save her, but she made both him and her doctors so mad sometimes
you could see steam coming off them. She risked her life and her
health to get stories she wasn't supposed to be chasing so many
times I quit counting. And I can't help but think that -- that
she stressed her liver with all of that idiocy and maybe even
shortened her own life because of it." She growled deep in her
throat and looked beyond Diana. "Sometimes I got so mad that I
-- I wanted to tell her--"

"Marta, dear, please contain yourself. There is no threat
here."

Marta turned away and wiped her nose on her coat sleeve. "I'm
-- I'm sorry. I thought I was past all that."

Diana moved closer and put her arm around the girl. "Your
feelings are natural. Do not apologize. I was not here, so I
cannot speak to the accuracy of your impressions. But judging by
what I have learned about her and what your family has told me,
what you say about your mother's possible failings is not
inconsistent with her character."

"Boy, you go the long way around Laura's house to say
something, don't you?"

"I am trying to be diplomatic. After all, I did not know your
mother well on a personal level."

"I know." Marta turned and looked into Diana's eyes. "So why
did you put her on a pedestal? I'm her daughter and I don't.
Sometimes I even get mad at her for leaving."

"Please do not do that. Your mother was who she was, and had she
been a different person your father would not have loved her as
he did. And despite her flaws -- which I know of only through you
-- I think she did some very wonderful things."

"Yeah, I know, she had Jon and Ellie and me. And she wrote all
of those tell-all books with real truth in them. But I've never
understood why she even talked to Lex Luthor. He was such a
snot."

Diana smiled. "That is what I am given to understand. She also
wrote those wonderful Wanda Detroit mysteries."

Marta turned stunned eyes to Diana. "Wanda Detroit? That's what
you remember about Mom?"

Diana lifted her head and looked around them, then leaned close.
"I shall share a secret with you if you will promise not to tell
your father."

"A secret about Mom that Dad doesn't know but you do? What kind
of secret?"

The older woman's mouth twitched. "It is a mischievous
secret."

"Oh, yeah, that's the best kind! Tell me, tell me!"

"You must promise first."

"Oh, I promise. Gimme gimme!"

"My mother--" Diana turned and looked around them again, then
quietly said, "My mother owns a hardbound copy of every title in
the series, each one personally signed by your mother on the
inside cover."

Marta's mouth fell open. "No! How'd your mom manage that?"

Diana grinned. "She had one of her trusted advisers visit your
mother's personal appearances, and she always had your mother
inscribe it 'To Lita, Your Most Ardent Supporter.' I doubt your
mother ever knew that my mother was one of her greatest fans."

Marta whooped and clapped her hands. "Oh, that's great! I
can't wait to tell Jon!"

"As long as you do not tell your father!"

"No way, not on your tiara!"

They shared another laugh, then Marta tapped Diana's purse.
"I'm guessing you brought the ring with you. I'm also guessing
that you planned to ask Mom what to do."

"You are most perceptive, young lady. Perhaps too much so."
Diana sighed. "Yes, I had planned to imagine a dialogue between
myself and your mother. But I could not. Nothing came to my mind,
neither her words nor her image, so I am as much in the dark now
as I was yesterday."

"No, you're not. You know what to do."

Diana's eyes narrowed. "And I suppose you know that it is that
I am to do?"

"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to do the right thing, no
matter how difficult it might be. One of the things Mom told us
was that the right thing was often the path of most resistance,
and that's why so few people did the right thing when they had a
clear choice."

Diana inhaled deeply. "You are correct. I do know what I am
intended to do." She reached into her purse and brought out the
ring box, then looked at Marta again. "You do realize that this
entire enterprise will not be easy, do you not?"

"If being my dad's wife, being the woman who supports Superman
at home, who helps raise his children, and who chooses to blend
her life with his was easy, any bimbo could do it." Marta nudged
Diana's shoulder with her open hand. "And you're no bimbo."

"Thank you." Diana took the ring out and looked at it, then
smiled and sighed. "I told your father that when I made my
decision he would be the first to hear it."

Through her grin, Marta said, "So don't say anything to me.
Just put it on and come home with us. Dad will be there in a
couple of hours and you can tell him then." The girl nudged the
hand holding the ring. "Or you could just lift your hand and
show him your newly decorated finger."

"Yes," Diana smiled. "And then, may I kiss him?"

"Oh, I guess so. As long as you don't get all sloppy and weepy
and stuff. I don't want to cry along with you."

"Then that is what I shall do. And you must risk the sloppy and
weepy stuff, as you call it. And especially the part about crying
along with me."

Diana smiled widely, then slipped the ring onto the third finger
of her left hand. As she snapped the box shut, she realized Ellie
was standing beside the bench, staring at her.

"It's 'bout time, Mommy D." Then she reached up with both
hands and made a pick-me-up motion. "I'm ready to go home now.
You need to help me plan my birthday party. I'm gonna be five
soon."

Diana swept the girl into her arms and laughed. "We are all
ready to go home, Ellie. And we shall certainly discuss your
party. Do you want to walk or shall I carry you?"

"You can carry me part of the way. I'm a little tired. But I'm
glad you put on Daddy's ring. He'll be happy now."

Diana stood, holding Ellie against her shoulder, and reached out
for Marta's hand. "I hope we shall always be happy, little
one."

"We will if I have anything to say about it," muttered Marta.

"I am sorry, Marta, I did not quite hear that."

"That's okay. I was talking to myself."

Diana nodded sagely. "Of course. I must inform my driver and
security team where I am going, but that will take only a moment.
Do you wish to come? I know that they would be glad to see
you."

Marta grinned. "Yeah, but they'll be even more glad to tickle
Ellie and spoil her a little more. You two go on. I just need a
minute or so."

Diana gazed down at the girl. "Please take all the time you
wish, so long as you do not keep your sister out too late."

"Not a problem."

Diana hefted Ellie and smiled at her. "Come, little one, we
shall discuss quantum physics and Schrodinger's kitty cat with
Dorinda and Frances. They will be more than happy to debate you
on the subject."

"We don't hafta stick with the Copenhagen interpretation, do
we?"

"I am not participating in that discussion. You, however, may
argue whichever side of that proposition you support."

"Yay! Do they got chocolate sticks too?"

Diana laughed. "I believe we can convince them to part with at
least one chocolate stick."

***

Marta watched the woman she'd hoped would marry her father carry
her little sister to the Princess' limo, then turned and took
the few steps which brought her to her mother's grave. She took
a deep breath and let it out slowly, then began speaking.

"Hey, Mom. Dad's finally getting married again. Yeah, I know,
he waited long enough, didn't he? But I think he's getting the
right woman. I like to think you'd like her a lot.

"Speaking of women, I'm starting to understand what you meant
about my teaching Ellie to be one. I hope Diana approves, because
I don't plan to stop." Marta paused, then continued, "I may
slow it down a little, though. Ellie learns so fast, and I don't
want her to grow up too quickly. She's almost scary now with
what she knows and what she understands. Now that I think about
it, it's a little like you were with me. So, yeah, I'm keeping
Ellie in the dark about a lot of things as long as I can.

"Jon's set to graduate this coming May with his pre-med B.A.
and a grade-point average of 3.92 out of 4.00. We've had three
different doctors come to visit us, trying to get him to commit
to their schools for his doctoral training. It's almost like he
was a football player and college coaches were showing up trying
to recruit him. His grades are so good and his resume is so sharp
that I don't think we'll have any trouble paying for the rest
of his education. They're gonna throw scholarship money at him
like baseballs at a carney bottle knockdown game. He's going to
be a great doctor and save a lot of lives. Just don't tell him I
said that. You'll ruin my reputation with him.

"I think I'm going to be a lawyer. I've set up both my junior
and senior years in high school to point in that direction,
anyway. And I've got the grades to get into a pre-law program.
Dad's been moaning about having to pay for two kids in high-cost
college programs, but he's so proud he's fit to bust his
buttons. And I can't wait to see how he acts if Ellie follows
through on her plans to be a physicist. He'd be able to fly
without his powers."

She stopped and knelt on the soft grass. "I still miss you, Mom.
I'll always miss you. But I know you didn't really want to go.
Oh, I still get a little mad when I think about you going off to
investigate stuff when we were little when Dad and Dr. Richards
and Dr. Klein all told you it was worse than a really bad idea,
but I know why you did it. You wanted to make the world a better
place for us to live in, just like Uncle Perry said at your
funeral.

"Diana wants that too. And that's the main reason I think
you'd approve of her marrying Dad. Besides, she really loves
him. And her servants want her to marry him, and yes, she's that
rich! Hey, I just now realized that maybe Dad won't have to
worry about paying for anyone's tuition."

She laughed softly. "I have to go now. Diana just put Dad's
ring on her hand. He asked her to marry him several days ago. I
guess he's attracted to women who don't know their own minds or
what a good deal they're getting."

Her hands found the ground and she leaned forward slightly. "I
will always love and miss you, Mom, but it's okay. Diana's
going to pick up where you left off and do great. And one of the
big reasons will be because you were so great. Jon and Ellie and
I are your legacy, and we're all going to do our best to live up
to your example. You and Dad changed the world for the better,
and we're going to change it even more. You won't be
forgotten."

Marta closed her eyes and ducked her head. She stayed that way
for a long moment, until she felt the feather touch of her little
sister's hug around her neck. "Mart? We gotta go home now,
okay? Mommy D has to kiss Daddy and tell him she's staying with
us from now on so he'll be happy. Don't you wanna come see?"

Marta brushed the moisture from her eyes and smiled. "Sure I do,
Squirt. I wouldn't miss that for the world."

Ellie grinned. "I'll race you back to Mommy D, okay? And this
time I'm gonna beat you!"

"In your dreams, Short Stuff. You count the start."

"Okay. One -- two--" Ellie burst out of her sister's loose hug
and began running. "--three!"

"Hey!" Marta lurched to her feet and began running after Ellie.
"That's cheating!"

"Not if I win!"

Diana stood beside the limo's open back door, and as the two
sisters raced toward her she put her arms out to either side. She
grabbed Ellie and picked her up with one arm, then snatched Marta
off the pavement with the other and let her inertia spin them
around. Marta knew that was what was happening because Ellie busy
shouting things like "Inertia! Angular momentum! Orbital
gravitational attraction!"

All three of them laughed like kindergarteners at recess, and
their laughter was echoed by Diana's servants. At the wheel,
Dorinda called out her congratulations, and Frances clasped her
hands together and wept with obvious joy. Marta could feel how
much Diana -- no, she'd get to call her Momma D from now on --
thrilled at the contact with the girls and the experience of
being close to them. It was as if they were three distinct parts
of an indivisible whole. The only thing better would be to pull
Dad and Jon into the embrace and complete the family again.

To Marta, it felt like coming home.

# the end #

# and a new beginning #