Lois and Clark in LALA Land: or, Surreal You Can Feel It

Lois and Clark in LALA Land

or, Surreal You Can Feel It

Author: ChrisM^ (mulders@mindspring.com); ChrisnDor/DorDor (dorisschmill@gmx.net); Ckgroupie (NKWolke@t-online.de); Eraygun (Eraygun@aol.com); Lansbury (Lansbury1@aol.com); PeaceEv (peace9@worldnet.att.net); Zoomway (zoomway@aol.com); chrispat (cp13607@aol.com); Mackteach (Mackteach@aol.com); Nekanuq (Nekanuq@aol.com)

Rated: PG-13

Written: March 7 & 14, 1998

An IRC Round Robin

**Any resemblance to real people in this fanfic is purely coincidental. The names were changed to protect the guilty. No actors or producers were harmed in the production of this fanfic.**

<ChrisM^>

Perry White hung up the phone in his office and yelled for his top reporting team. Lois and Clark had learned not to dawdle when they heard that tone in his voice.

“Yes, Chief?”

“What’s up, Perry?”

“I hope you two don’t have any plans for the next few days because I’m sending you out to California.”

Lois and Clark exchanged looks of surprise and speculation, but always wisely opted against interrupting their boss when he was on a roll.

“I just got off the phone with Mr. Stern … he’s got a job for you. Seems one of his larger investments, Broadcasting Corporation of America is facing a hostile takeover by The Sidney Corporation.” He paused and looked at them over the top of his glasses, but they maintained a respectful silence. “BCA has a hit show called ‘Mary Jane and Peter: The New Adventures of Spider-Man’ … maybe you’ve seen it?”

Lois looked at Clark, and Clark looked at Lois. She turned back to Perry. “No, Chief, superheroes on TV don’t hold much of a thrill for me…,” Clark could hear her undervoiced mutter, “… since I’m hanging out with the real thing.”

He had to suppress a grin as he faced Perry once again. “I’m afraid we don’t have much time for TV, Chief.”

“Well, I’ll see about sending some tapes along with you, then. You’ll need to do some homework if you’re going to pass yourselves off as screenwriters for the show.”

Lois had been thinking about how nice it would be to explore California with her super husband, but at Perry’s last remark she gasped. “Perry! You can’t be serious!”

“You bet I am!” he retorted. “If this takeover goes through, Mr. Stern might have to consider selling the Planet in order to recoup some of his losses, so you can bet your last Elvis souvenir that I’m serious.”

“I didn’t know that Mr. Stern was so heavily invested in TV, Chief.”

“Well, he is. Things have been going from bad to worse, but last night the two head writers, a man and a woman, disappeared, so you two are going to take their places and investigate their disappearances at the same time.”

“But, Perry, how can we do that? We don’t know anything about writing for a TV show!”

Perry brushed aside their concerns. “You two are the best. I’ve seen you do some amazing things and I’m sure you can do this, too. You’ll have some help. Mr. Stern has got a contact for you out there, someone he can trust. Her name is … let me see, I wrote it down. Oh, yes, here it is … Zoomer. Ms. Zoomer. She’s the media liaison for the studio where the show is produced. Knows everything there is to know about TV, so you listen to her.”

“Okay, Chief.” Clark and Lois turned towards the door, but Perry had one last word of advice. “Be careful around the show’s Co-Executive Producer, Mickey Einstein. Mr. Stern doesn’t trust him, and that’s good enough for me.”

As they walked to the elevators, Clark said to his less than happy wife, “Well, Lois, it could have been worse.”

“How Clark?”

“We could be writing a sitcom.”

As the door dropped into the lock behind them, Lois leaned back against it heavily. “I thought we had been through just about anything with these undercover projects,” she sighed.

“Well, at least you can’t complain about getting bored.” Clark smiled as he laid his arm around her. “We’ll have some time off too, you know. Spending a day in Sidneyland with your husband isn’t so bad, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Lois was in a bad mood. “Everything has to be in a rush again, though. How can we possibly be ready to meet with Ms. Zoomer?

“Don’t worry so much. I’ll help you pack.”

“We’ll have to go via a regular airline. Perry had already arranged the tickets with Accounting. Heck, he didn’t even wait for us to give him our okay to book!”

“Ms. Zoomer will meet us at the airport and take us to our hotel from there. No way around it.” Clark was helping her out of her coat. “But, you know, there’s plenty of time till tomorrow. And maybe we can arrange a connecting flight on Superman Airways, giving us additional time tonight.”

As Clark pulled her close and kissed her gently, Lois felt herself relax and her resistance ebb away. Maybe things *weren’t* so bad.

“Well, we better start packing then. We could get most of it done tonight. Remember, you promised to help.”

“Sure do.” Clark picked her up unceremoniously and zipped up the stairs, putting her down just inside the bedroom. He was back with their suitcases a split second later, placing hers on the bed.

“We can start with yours. Now let me see …” He had begun to search through a chest of drawers. Turning, he held up a teddy. “This looks a little small. Are you sure it still fits after you washed it last time …?”

“Hey, do you think …?” She was beginning to become exasperated again, but then caught the teasing grin on his face. Walking up to him, she poked him in the chest playfully. “I could try it on ….”

“Would you? We want to make sure you have the right attire when we’re out in California …” He was beginning to kiss her neck and helping her with the preparations to try on the teddy.

“But the packing …”

*****

They never finished the packing that night. It was done at superspeed the next morning, allowing them to catch the flight to California just in time. Lois was glad that super pilots and their “aircraft” didn’t get out of breath easily. Thus they were not the worse for wear when they arrived at the LAX airport lounge . It was seven o’clock and the January morning was pleasantly cool.

But in the lounge waited another surprise. Ms. Zoomer wasn’t there, only her secretary, who apologized and explained that Ms. Zoomer wouldn’t be able to come. They would meet her later in Burbank at the studio.

“So what shall we do now?” Lois asked after the secretary had left.

Clark shrugged his shoulders. “I think we should rent a car and try to get to the studio, okay?”

They decided to do it this way and by eight they were on the highway heading towards Burbank.

“It seems to be easy to find, Clark,” Lois said, fumbling with a huge map in her lap. “Just change from this highway to the 405 and then we have to get off at the second exit. It’s a piece of cake.”

Lois’ first thought about this whole undercover assignment had been right. Changing highways turned out to be a very bad idea. Once on the 405 the early morning fog partially obscured their view of an endless line of cars in front of their own creeping through the valley. But there was no turning back.

“Uh uh…” Clark said.

“Come on, Clark, we’ve been in a rush hour before. It can’t take so long. I’m sure we’ll be at the second exit soon.”

“That’s not what I meant, honey,” Clark answered. “‘Uh uh’ meant I have to go.”

“Go?!! Now?! Here!?” Lois stared at him as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “No, Clark. Please, tell me you’re kidding!”

Clark had the grace to look really uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, honey, but there are tornadoes in Missouri – weren’t you listening to the radio? I can’t stay…see you later!”

With that he spun in the air at superspeed, visible only to Lois, who sat in her seat, speechless, staring after the red and blue blur.

“Oh no!” she said between clenched teeth, “sometimes I hate superheroes!”

One hour later Clark returned to California, flying first to Tarner Brothers Studios. When he didn’t see Lois there he headed back to the freeway. He spotted the rental car pulled into the emergency lane with its hood up. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Clark scooped up the car and whisked it to a relatively quiet side street near the studio.

Spinning back to his regular clothes he approached Lois carefully. “Hi, honey,” he said cautiously.

“What kept you?”

“Well, there was a train derailment in Arizona and I…”

“Never mind,” Lois said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you but the car died and I had no cell phone, and where are all those nice-looking highway patrolmen when you really need one?”

“I know, I know, it’s always something,” Clark said soothingly as he took her out of the car and into his arms. “You need to rest. Why don’t we just go to the hotel and check in?”

“No, Clark, we’re here now, we might as well get this over with. Besides, I’ve got plans for later,” she said with a small smile.

“Oh really?”

Lois nodded.

“I can hardly wait.”

“Good,” Lois replied. “So what are our cover names?”

“I’m Jerome Clark and you’re Jo Miller. We’ve been writing partners for the last two years, mostly off-Broadway plays, minor productions and the like. Our spec script was picked up by November 4th productions and that’s why we’re here.”

“Okay, anything else I should know?”

“Nothing that I can think of right now, sweetheart. Ready?”

“I guess. Do I look okay?”

“Lois, you always look okay.”

“Thanks, you’re a big help.”

“Hey, I mean it!”

“Hand me my hairbrush, would you? It’s in the glove compartment.” Clark reached into the glove compartment and took out the brush. Looking in the rearview mirror, Lois rearranged her hair. “Okay, now I’m ready to go inside.”

They walked down the sidewalk to the studio. When they gave the guard their contact’s name, they were directed to the Public Relations Department.

“May I help you?” the receptionist asked.

“Ah, yes, we’re here to see Ms. Zoomer,” replied Clark.

“I need your names, please.”

“Jerome Clark and Jo Miller.”

“Go right in,” she said, pointing to a door. “You’re expected.”

They walked into the room the receptionist had indicated and saw a woman sitting behind a cluttered desk.

“You must be Jerome and Jo. Pleased to meet you,” she said, extending her hand. They each shook her hand. “Have a seat,” she invited. “Well, I suppose you’d like to hear about the hostile takeover by Sidney.”

“That is what our job is.”

“Well, the thing is–Sidney would ruin us. Nothing could be worse for MJ&P than that stupid gerbil.”

“But you suspect that they are sabotaging the show?”

“Well, yes. They have made it no secret that they want to take over BCA. And MJ&P’s ratings have never been this low. Our biggest competition has been CBN’s FishTrek. Old Lady Mysteries on SBC is keeping the number one spot, but we were usually second. Not anymore.”

“But why would Sidney want to sabotage the show?” Lois asked. “If the show fails, can they buy the network for less or something?”

“Something like that. The important thing is stopping them. Now, you’re going to be scriptwriters?”

“Yes. It shouldn’t be too hard, right? We’re already journalists,” Clark said.

“Okay, well, I’ve got a lot of papers here for you. It’s all the information I could think of on the show.” Ms. Zoomer reached into her desk and brought out a huge pile of papers.

“All that?” Lois and Clark could just gape at the pile.

“Yeah, this should prepare you to work on the show.”

Lois frowned slightly. Sure, Clark could cram all that info in five seconds, but she sure couldn’t! And there was no way she was letting this ruin her evening plans.

After talking with Ms. Zoomer for a little while longer, she offered to make arrangements for another car. When it arrived, they drove to the hotel where they had reservations. It was fancier than most, and looked pretty comfortable. They walked up to their room.

“Well, this is nice!” exclaimed Clark. He closed the door and turned to Lois. “You know, we’ve got plenty of time to read that stuff later.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Clark,” she replied. “We should start now.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Kidding!” she exclaimed. “We’ve got,” her voice got softer, “better things to do right now.” She put a hand lightly on his chest. “Excuse me while I go change.” She moved away from him with a wink.

A few hours later, a smiling Lois and Clark left the hotel. Armed with the information Ms. Zoomer had given them, they returned to the Tarner Brothers lot.

Once past the guards at the main gate they headed for the soundstage of MJ&P for a writers’ meeting with the head of production, Mr. Einstein. From what Ms. Zoomer had written he was one slippery man to nail. Einstein was a recent addition, slipped in through the back door when the ratings had dropped this season. Lois was feeling a little hesitant about meeting with him. She had run into his type many times before and she already had a strong dislike for the man and hoped it didn’t show. He was the proverbial snake in the grass, always trying to make himself look better no matter who he had to step on or sleep with.

“Clark, I know this man is going to have a pot belly and smell of Cuban cigars. I don’t think after reading everything Zoomer has written I can be objective about him.”

Clark looked at her. “Honey, I know you can put all your personal feelings aside. I’ve seen it happen too many times.”

Clark led them to Einstein’s office. Again they were met by a beautiful young blonde receptionist. Once they had given her their names, Einstein himself answered the door.

He reached out to both. “Come in…come in. I have heard a lot about you.”

Lois felt Einstein’s eyes travel the length of her body. She met his gaze with a look of cold disdain. On the other hand, Clark was not used to someone openly ogling his wife and found he was reaching his boiling point.

But this wasn’t supposed to be his wife — she was his writing partner. Focus on that, Kent.

He stepped forward quickly and held out his hand. “Mr. Einstein, we appreciate your taking the time to meet with us.” He felt Einstein squeezing his hand hard, and for a moment the two men engaged in the age-old ritual of testing each other’s strength.

Lois realized what was going on and rolled her eyes. She knew Clark could easily crush Einstein’s hand, realized too that he was just angry enough about Einstein’s ogling to go a little overboard. She stuck out her own hand, determined to break the ritual before it got out of hand, so to speak.

“Mr. Einstein,” she said crisply. “Jo Miller. I’m Jerome’s writing partner.” Einstein took her hand a little gingerly, trying to conceal a wince.

“I was very impressed with your spec script, Ms. Miller. I don’t write myself, of course, but I know talent when I see it.”

Clark folded his arms. “Isn’t it unusual for an Executive Producer of a show? Not being a writer, I mean.”

Einstein cleared his throat. “Writing is more than what’s on paper, Mr. Clark. Richard Songer is the show-runner. He doesn’t write either, but we have the ‘eye’ necessary for finding talented writers who can translate our vision into something concrete..graspable. The audience doesn’t seem to be going for ‘high concept’ this year, so we gauge, huddle, and come up with a new game plan for the writing staff.”

“So your function is much like Mr. Songer’s was a couple of years ago,” Clark commented. “When he was brought in to replace Denise Felice Ravine.”

Einstein narrowed his eyes; obviously the comparison made him uncomfortable. “Ms. Ravine had no desire to do a ‘hero saves the day’ show but that’s what BCA said they wanted, Rich had experience with action shows, and so was a natural choice.”

Lois tipped her head back slightly. “Interesting that the action direction failed so miserably. Almost got the show canceled as I recall.”

“Fortunately Songer saw which way the wind was blowing and brilliantly switched the premise to a real romance between Mary Jane and Peter.”

“Really?” Clark asked. “I thought that’s what the fans had clamored for.”

“As much as we dearly love the fans, it’s the millions of viewers we have to be concerned with, not a couple of thousand on-line fans.”

“Well, I’m new to television,” Clark admitted. “But isn’t that how the Nielsen ratings work? They get logs and diaries of viewing habits from a couple of thousand people and use that as a barometer for millions of viewers? Also,” Clark added quickly before Einstein could interrupt. “aren’t the fans credited with averting the disaster of BCA’s plans to foist a wedding fakeout on viewers? That could have caused a plummet in the ratings if fans hadn’t been forewarned and launched their famous protest. They got the *real* wedding, and the show prospered.”

“You’re trying to prove a negative, Mr. Clark,” Einstein said curtly. “There’s no way to prove that the fakeout would have cost the show viewers. Who knows, it might very well have raised the ratings even, and we could have had a real wedding later.”

Lois, admiring her husband’s tenacity in wading through the ponderous paperwork presented by Ms. Zoomer, felt it was time to change the subject. “Um..when do we meet the cast..other writers?”

“Come with me,” he said. “They’re shooting on 20, I think.”

“Stage 14,” a secretary corrected.

They made their way to the Daily Bugle soundstage, the whole time Einstein telling them how difficult it was to take over a show cold from the original creator, and how magnificently Songer had done so. The red light was not on, so they walked onto the set.

“Wow, the set is smaller than I thought,” Lois whispered to Clark.

Clark looked up into the catwalk and around at the crew milling about. He touched a Panaflex camera and smiled. “Hollywood.”

Suddenly a man grabbed Clark’s arm. “You’re supposed to be in wardrobe!”

“Excuse me?”

The man smiled apologetically. “Sorry, pal. You look like the actor we hired to play a stand-in for Superman. We’re still hoping Supes will make a cameo in this episode, but his agent can’t get ahold of him.”

“That’s okay,” Lois smiled. “My partner has never had such a nice compliment.”

Clark shrugged. “I guess those workouts have paid off.”

Lois tapped Clark’s arm. “There he is! Dane Staff,” she sighed. “He looks good in tights. Don’t you think, Clark…Clark?”

“Hmm?” he asked, as Sheri Brooden stepped onto the set.

Lois half-smiled. “You must be the guy who downloaded her ‘naked wrapped in a spiderweb’ jpeg one hundred thousand times.”

Clark laughed. “I did happen to see it on Jimmy’s screen..once or twice.”

Lois nodded. “It’s not hard, it’s his wallpaper.”

“Everyone,” Einstein said loudly. “These are our new writers.”

Everyone turned around, making Lois and Clark a bit uncomfortable

Sheri and Dane waved from the set. Dane pulled off the Spider-Man cowl. “Make me sound intelligent!” he joked.

Sheri put a hand on his shoulder. “They’re writers, not magicians.”

A tall man with reddish blond hair stepped forward. “Hi, I’m Jim Linear. When you get a chance, could we…talk?”

Lois nodded. “No problem…and you’re…?”

“Just another writer. I’ll see you in the writers’ building..” He cut himself off when he saw Einstein approaching. “Later,” he said, and hurried off.

“That was strange,” Lois commented.

“It’s just Hollywood, Ms. Miller,” Einstein said. “The only town where excrement rolls uphill. Let me introduce you to the stars.”

<ChrisM^>

Lois and Clark couldn’t help but notice that Einstein’s two stars looked uncomfortable with him around. The introductions were made, and Lois decided that, up close, Dane didn’t look as good in his “suit” as Clark looked in his. She had to remind herself that here she was Jo Miller, screenwriter, who was probably supposed to be a bit gushy around such a big star. Perry was going to owe her big time for this!

“It’s an honor to meet both of you,” she said, distinctly conscious that Einstein had moved closer to her. If he pinches me, she thought, I’m dropping him right here–story or no story.

Clark, too, moved forward to shake hands, not too unobtrusively pushing Einstein away from Lois as he did so. “Yes,” he added, “we’re looking forward to working with you.”

Einstein puffed out his chest–a little man who was used to deference from bigger men than himself. He started to remonstrate with Clark, but when he encountered the younger man’s eyes, he wisely changed his mind. “Well,” he said, pulling himself together quickly. The guy was only a writer, after all. “I’ve got important people waiting for me back in my office. You four carry on.”

Just then Sheri and Dane were called back to the set. The next scene was about to be shot. Jerome and Jo were told they’d have to wait elsewhere and warned under pain of death and dismemberment not to talk.

Clark raised an eyebrow in Lois’ direction, which she saw and correctly interpreted. “I can be quiet!”

She proved as good as her word, and they watched fascinated at TV magic being made. Neither one had ever visited a production studio before and so everything they saw was interesting.

It was another thirty minutes before Sheri and Dane were able to rejoin them, but they hardly noticed the time. Lois and Clark wondered how they were going to get the two stars off to a quiet place for a talk, but it seemed that that had already been taken care of.

“Care to come to lunch with us in the studio cafeteria?”

“Sure.”

“We better hurry,” Sheri said as she ushered the two reporters towards the exit. “The commissary is often overcrowded. Some people seem to think it’s the world’s most important competition to get to the commissary first.” She shot a pointed glance in the direction of Rhodes Jones.

“Well, no hurry this time,” Dane whispered confidentially. “I made sure that he won’t have an unfair advantage today.”

Lois looked from one actor to the other. “I’m afraid you lost me. How would ‘Jonah Jamison’ be at an unfair advantage …? And what commissary race?” Lois shot a glance in her husband’s direction. Clark looked politely interested.

“You see,” Dane chimed in. “They don’t have that many salads, and they’re only good when they’re fresh. We need to watch our diet to stay in shape. Anyway, today there is no hurry.” He pointed up at the ceiling, just as they were about to exit the building. “Rhodes’s bike is out of the way, so to speak.”

Glancing upward, Lois could just barely make out something suspended from the rafters. “What …?”

Turning around, Clark quickly lowered his glasses for a peek. After a moment, he whispered in her ear, “It’s a bike all right up there. Don’t worry, it’s secured with chains.” Out loud he added, “You must have had the help of the lighting crew with that, Dane.”

“I did,” Dane smirked. “They are as ticked at Rhodes always getting to the commissary first as the rest of us are.”

When they arrived at the commissary, there was indeed a choice of salads left for the two actors, and they found an unoccupied table by a window overlooking the studio site.

The meal passed in companionable conversation. They had begun to feel at ease with each other. Lois only wished for a bit of privacy with her husband. As it was, they were seated across the table from each other. She tried to keep her face straight as she started to feel Clark’s foot beginning to travel up and down her calf under the table in an attempt to caress her leg.

A quick look under the table told her that he had slipped out of his shoe. His efforts were mainly tickling her, though, which brought her closer to breaking out in giggles.

The other contributing factor to her amusement was the obvious envy with which the two actors, Dane especially, were watching Clark eat. Not having had much time for breakfast this morning, Clark was digging in with a healthy appetite. Clark’s tray was laden with just about everything the commissary menu was offering, and he was having double servings of some of his favorite desserts.

It never ceased to amaze even her how much and how fast her husband, who didn’t really need to, could eat if he set his mind to it. And today he was obviously having an all-out day. Dane and Sheri were picking away at their salad, growing slower by the minute as they continued to watch the supposed screenwriter eat.

Eventually, as Clark was biting into his second piece of chocolate cream cake, Dane pushed back his plate. “All right, how do you do it?”

“Do what?” Clark looked at the man sitting across from him.

“What you’re doing. You eat … I don’t know …an eight year old has a better understanding of what’s healthy to eat. But you’re in shape … as if you could play Spider-Man any time without any workout. And you’re a paper-pusher mainly, aren’t you?”

“Well …” Clark looked somewhat uneasy.

“Oh, it’s natural. ” Lois came to the rescue quickly. “His country upbringing. Nothing like fresh air and lots of chores to toughen a guy.”

“I wish ….” Dane started, but never finished as the speakers called them back to the set.

“We have to get back to work,” Sheri apologized, “but it was nice meeting you. If there’s anything we can do to help you settle into the writing team, let us know.” She smiled at Clark who seemed a bit dazed.

Lois and Dane exchanged glances and both rolled their eyes. “Don’t worry, Jo. She has that affect on all the men. He’ll get over it.”

Lois laughed. “And I’ll bet you have that same effect on all the women.” He grinned sheepishly and blushed.

“Do you mind if we walk back to the set with you?” Lois asked. “We were kind of curious about why we got hired in the middle of the season and on such short notice.”

“No, we don’t mind, do we, Sheri?” The foursome started back to the set and Sheri spoke up.

“It’s really strange, but two of our writers have disappeared. They were partners and wrote some of our best episodes. More important, they were the show-runners. With them gone, Songer is the show-runner, but he’s never been one before. He used to be the one to assign show-runners. The network is putting pressure on the producers to get the rest of this season’s episodes written even though they seem to hate the show and are going out of their way to hide it from the viewers.”

Lois and Clark exchanged glances. This was the kind of information they were looking for.

“When did they disappear?” Clark asked, ” and where from?”

Dane answered, “They said they were going to meet at the Chart House in Malibu for dinner and then go back to Willamena’s place for some rewrites, but after they left the restaurant, they just disappeared. Richard Songer lives with Willamena and he says she never came home.”

By this time they had arrived back at the set and separated, the actors going back into the soundstage and Lois and Clark heading to a writers’ meeting in Einstein’s office.

“Okay,” Lois said as they hurried across the lot. “I know you’ve done the background work, so give me the rundown on who’s going to be at this meeting besides Einstein and *Dick*.”

“You know I read somewhere he prefers to be called Richard or Rich,” Clark said offhandedly.

“Yeah, but Dick fits him *so* well.”

Clark shrugged. “According to Ms. Zoomer’s background material, besides Jim Linear who we met earlier, there are Ron Macintyre, Glenn Rosenblatt and Daniel Simpson. Willamena Martini-Geraboa and Chad Bolten are missing, of course. With the exception of Linear who joined the show this season, they’ve all been with November 4th Productions for a while. But they aren’t particularly happy with Einstein or the direction he’s been taking the show. They feel that Songer is now nothing more than a figurehead.”

“Like what happened to Ravine.” Lois nodded. “Sounds like no one is pleased with Einstein, but he’s clearly in charge. I wonder what or *who* he knows that enables him to do that.”

Just then they reached Einstein’s office and heard loud voices coming from inside.

Lois and Clark stood at the entrance of Einstein’s office and scanned the room. All talking stopped. Every pair of eyes was focused on them as they took the closest vacant seats at the oblong table.

As soon as they were seated Einstein continued. “Everyone, these ‘new kids’ here are Jerome and Jo. They’re going to be contributing to our little show for the time being. Now let’s get this meeting back on track.”

With that each veteran writer started talking at the same time. A solitary figure remained conspicuous by his silence. Apparently that was Richard Songer. Not nearly as imposing as Lois had imagined.

Jim Linear, the closest to Lois and Clark, spoke up above the din and asked, “What exactly does the network want from us? What direction do they want the show to take? One month they tell us to write as if the couple barely are on speaking terms and the next thing we hear is yes, start heating up a relationship for them. I’m at a loss. I get one outline for a episode completed then it’s scrapped because the show has changed directions.” The other writers had stopped talking and were nodding in agreement to what Jim had said. “Einstein, what direction are we taking now?”

Lois and Clark were watching the whole exchange between the two. It was obvious Jim was at odds with his boss and his network.

Lois wrote on her pad – We have got to talk to him after this meeting – and slid it over for Clark to read. He glanced at her and gave a nod.

Just as Einstein was about to answer Jim’s question in walked…

…a blonde who hesitated at the door, unsure of whether or not she was welcome. She looked directly at Einstein and gestured that he had a phone call. Everyone in the room saw his look of puzzlement.

“Sorry. Be right back. Go ahead with the meeting.” With that, he ushered the blonde back out of the room by her arm. Clark’s hearing tuned in and he heard part of their conversation out in the hallway. He quickly scribbled some notes.

Lois glanced at his notepad, her eyebrows rising as she read, then looked at Clark.

Jim Linear turned to them. “OK. Jo, Jerome. Got any ideas?”

Clark cleared his throat. “Well, I –” He hesitated as his superhearing again tuned in, this time to the Los Angeles Fire Department’s dispatch. He turned once again to Lois. “Um, Jo? Why don’t you tell them what you were thinking about?” He turned to the writers. “I’m sorry. Something’s come up.”

Lois threw him a look of exasperation. “Probably your lunch, Jerome.”

Clark smiled weakly and left the room.

“OK, boys. Here’s what I was thinking….

*****

Superman landed next to the battalion chief. “Need any help?”

A grin of relief crossed the firefighter’s soot-covered face. “Boy, do we, Superman! These darn Santa Ana winds have started up a brush fire. There are homes that might need to be evacuated.”

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“We can handle the evacuation process, but winds are causing havoc with our fire lines. Just when we think we have a handle on the situation, the fire jumps the line and starts up somewhere else.”

Superman looked at the hillside. “How do people live on these hills?”

The chief shrugged. “It’s Malibu, Superman. If you’re not on the beach and worried about being washed into the Pacific Ocean, you’re in the hills and worried about either mudslides from El Nino or fires from the Santa Anas. This time, the Santa Anas won out.”

“Okay, let me work on putting out the fire. You deal with the people.”

“Right.” The battalion chief barked orders into his walkie-talkie as Superman lifted off and flew in the direction of the nearest firebreak.

Assessing the situation, he quickly flew toward the Pacific Ocean. Once over it, he began to spin, creating a wind funnel that drew water up into the vacuum he was creating. He flew back to the fire, continuing to spin, the water trailing behind him. Hovering over the fire, he stopped. The vacuum was broken and the sea water fell to the earth. A loud hiss and a column of steam was all that remained of that part of the fire. Smiling, he went back for more water. He waved to the cheering firefighters below.

*****

“Hey, you asked me what my idea was…why are you all looking at me like I have spinach in my teeth?” Lois asked, looking around the table at faces absolutely aghast at her. She ran her tongue over her teeth quickly, just to be sure, and was certain dental hygiene wasn’t the problem.

“Look, Jo…it’s…well, it’s high concept, I’ll give you that…” Lois turned her head toward the speaker. Rosenblatt, she recalled. He continued, “But…maybe you’re jumping into the deep end of the pool without a net.”

What is this guy talking about? Lois wondered. And what kind of analogy is that? This guy’s a writer?

“Okay, hey, I know this is a little different than, oh, let’s say, the female lead getting amnesia and falling in love with her doctor while her true love pines for her, but I thought the plan here was to come up with something earth-shaking, that would give this show some ratings grip.”

“Hey…amnesia…now there’s an idea!” Rosenblatt leaned forward in his chair, and started scribbling notes.

Lois huffed, her bangs whisping around on her forehead. Well, truth is stranger than fiction, and I could pawn off a lifetime full of truth for this fiction, she thought.

“Okay, you like typical soap opera story-lines, dragged out for weeks with unsatisfactory resolutions, huh? Someone start taking this down…” And she began relating, embellishing with surreal details, a plotline these ‘creative types’…these so-called ‘artistes’…gobbled up like Thanksgiving turkey…except she figured, out here in California, it was probably tofu shaped like a turkey.

She was just getting to the really bizarre part of her narrative, when four beepers went off, and everyone jumped from the table. Set to vibrate, too, Lois thought, and rolled her eyes.

Linear spoke up. “Uh, thanks for the…uh…input, Jo…but when the beepers buzz…”

“No!” Simpson said. “Not *this* time. We’re going to have this out. We got notes from the top to make Peter Parker a clone, and that he’s been a clone since the ‘Jackal Attacks’ episode in first season.”

All of the other writers sat in stunned silence, all save Lois, who sat in dumb silence.

Macintyre threw his notepad on the table. “You’re kidding me, right? Every story we did since then — the landmark 100th episode where they had a baby –everything will be a lie.”

Lois drummed her pencil. “This is a bad thing then?”

Linear sighed loudly. “It will only get us killed in the ratings, burned to death by fans, and have Marvel wondering why we’d repeat their stupidity.”

Rosenblatt shrugged. “They already hate me, so it’s business as usual.”

Macintyre thought a moment. “Then we send them a dummy script. Let them think we’re doing the crap they want. Jo, you have your assignment.”

Simpson nodded. “Okay, Jo does the dummy script. And we do…what, exactly?”

Macintyre smiled. “The play’s the thing, Daniel.”

“Hamlet,” Clark said, straightening his tie as he came back in and sat down.

Rosenblatt looked at Clark. “A Princeton boy?”

“Midwest State, actually,” Clark blushed.

“What we do is write all this intrigue into a script. The vanishing writers, the sabotage from the network..the buyout from Sidney Corp..”

“Sidney Corp,” Lois sighed. “I can’t believe the same people who gave the world Dorky Duck would do such a thing.”

“*Believe it*,” Simpson said. “That duck has fangs.”

“Okay, then,” Rosenblatt said. “We do this arc and then meet in the unemployment office for cocktails.”

“Yep, and Jo and Jerry, you’ve got to write something awful,” Linear reminded them.

“No problem,” Clark smiled.

“We have our integrity,” Linear added.

“I’ll be looking for your dead body hanging from the ‘Welcome to Hollywood’ sign, Jimmy boy.” Macintyre said wryly.

The writers laughed nervously, but agreed to hang together to avoid the rest of that cliché.

*****

Lois was sitting cross-legged on the bed in their hotel room typing away fiendishly on her laptop, sometimes laughing aloud. Clark looked over her shoulder. “Honey, no offense, but that’s really bad.”

“I know. I love this. It’s liberating.”

“Well it should liberate us from the Screen Writers Guild forever. Not that I mind. I’ve been doing some digging.”

Lois stopped typing. “And?”

“We should backtrack the steps of Geraboa and Bolten the night they disappeared.”

“‘The Chart House in Malibu it is then, huh?” Lois looked at her husband inquiringly.

“That’s where they were seen last,” Clark replied. “I’m sorry about the restaurant.”

“Me too.” Lois made a face. “I heard they have frog legs. Said to be their specialty.”

“Well, there were no corpses found, so chances are the fact they were eating there didn’t kill them.” Clark grinned suddenly. “You know, I have an idea …”

*****

They were sitting at a table at the back of the restaurant. Lois tried to lose herself in the menu she was studying intently without any interest. It was good that at least Clark was doing all the talking. She listened to his perfect delivery of a French accent. His wide travels and his *super* aptitude for languages were certainly helpful.

He had been talking to the waiter and then the chef for over half an hour now. They were slowly but surely losing their nerves. No longer were the fake Frenchmen as highnosed as they had been in the beginning, Clark having spoken to them in perfect French, which they, of course, hadn’t understood.

Clark was pretending to be the connoisseur for a famous restaurant guide perfectly. Lois was wondering where Clark had learned that much about French cuisine and frog legs in particular. He didn’t even like them. But he did cook. Lois suppressed a smile as she saw the chef and owner of the establishment flinch yet again.

Just then Clark passed her a look that told her the two were about ready to be cooked. After that, the conversation soon drifted to other guests and famous authors having eaten in the restaurant, particularly two who had made a rather hasty exit after they had been joined by two gentlemen in dark long coats, wide-rimmed hats and sunglasses.

They had no more than a cup of coffee each, most of which Lois left untouched since the milk in her ‘cafe au lait’ was sour.

Back out on the street, she quickly whistled for a cab to get back to their hotel and to take inventory of what they had learned. The brakes of the car that they had rented had mysteriously failed when they were leaving for the restaurant. Lois couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, someone important, was getting worried.

Back at the hotel, they sat down on the bed heavily. “What a day!” Lois looked at her husband.

“Agreed. But let’s see what we’ve got so far.”

“…yeah, let’s see what we’ve got so far,” Lois mumbled.

Clark shook Lois’ shoulder. “Wake up, honey. We’ll be late for that dinner reservation.”

Lois gazed up at him blearily. “Huh? I thought we already did that?” She turned her head and peered down at the computer beside her feet. The cursor blinked patiently at the bottom of the screen. She’d only leaned her head back on the pillows for a moment, just to rest her eyes…

Clark chuckled. “Wow, doing that really bad script writing really takes it out of you, huh? That must have been some dream.”

“Dream? Oh, God, Clark, I was going to eat frog legs!”

Clark grimaced. “I thought we agreed never to say f-r-o-g again as long as we live.”

“Then I think Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones kidnapped those writers.”

“I hope your dream doesn’t get any weirder than that, honey.”

“I whistled for a taxi, and I actually got one.”

Clark stroked her hair. “In Los Angeles? You *were* dreaming.”

Lois sat up. “And just where were you when I got stuck with that writing chore?”

“Well, you know how it is. Duty called.” He made that flying gesture they used as code for Superman.

“Yeah, right. How come duty always calls when there’s something you don’t want to do?”

“Lois, I’m sorry. Now let’s get going.”

“Okay,” she agreed grumpily. “You just better not leave me alone in the wilds of Malibu.”

*****

Lois and Clark enjoyed their dinner at the restaurant overlooking the beach, but struck out on finding anyone who had seen the missing writers. They decided to take a moonlight stroll and discuss what they had discovered so far, which wasn’t much.

They lingered to enjoy the view and a few stolen kisses and then headed back to the restaurant parking lot to retrieve their rental car. As they approached the parking lot, Clark pulled Lois around the corner of the building. “Shhh. I think I see someone we know.”

They peered around the corner and saw Richard Songer talking to the blonde who had interrupted the writers’ meeting.

“What are they doing here?” Lois hissed.

Clark shrugged. “Be quiet, honey. I’m trying to hear what they’re saying.”

Lois looked annoyed but obediently kept quiet.

“Lois, you won’t believe this. They’re…

Clark hesitated for a few moments.

“They’re what, Clark?! Having a date?! Doing a drug deal!? What?” Lois interrupted.

“Well, I don’t know whether drugs are involved but money certainly is,” Clark replied. “That envelope Songer handed her had ten thousand dollars in it. And she handed him an envelope containing a locket.”

“Well, that sounds suspicious. Maybe we should nab him. Or her.”

“For what, Lois? Their conversation could have been about anything.”

“Well, then, let’s follow him; see if he says anything else or drop any clues.”

Clark nodded. “I guess we could do that. It’s the closest thing we have to a lead on this story. And it beats going back to the hotel and engaging in more bad script writing. Let’s get the car.”

As Lois and Clark got to the car Lois hurried to the driver’s side and got in before Clark had a chance to stop her.

“Honey, why don’t you let me drive? You know what driving on the freeways does to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a very safe and careful driver. It’s not my fault if the drivers around me are lost and don’t know where they are going.”

Lois backed the car out of the parking place and pulled over to the side of the lot to watch for Songer to pass by. Within seconds his silver gray Lexus passed their car and turned out onto the highway with them in hot pursuit.

“Honey, slow down. Sweetheart, watch out for that Bentley. Sweetie, that’s an eighteen wheeler going eighty miles per hour you just cut off. Don’t you think I had better drive?”

“Clark, stop ‘Honey, Sweetheart and Sweetie’ – ing me. I know what I’m doing.”

Clark started to say something else but was cut off by her side glance and the car speeding forward. She drove through the traffic, always keeping the car they were following in sight.

They followed him off the next exit and into a part of Los Angeles that had seen better days. “Wonder who he knows down here?” Clark murmured.

“Where are we, Clark?”

Clark looked out the side window. “From the looks of it, honey, we’re near USC. Exposition Park, to be exact.”

“USC? I thought that university was on the west side of Los Angeles.”

Clark shook his head. “Nope, that’s UCLA. You’re getting them mixed up. It’s the USC Trojans and the UCLA Bruins.”

“Bruins. Trojans. Who cares? Use your hearing buzz-buzz and listen in on what they’re saying.”

Lois pointed ahead of them. They both watched as a dark limo pulled up to Songer’s car. He walked toward the back and leaned in as the window rolled down.

“Well, what are they saying?”

“Honey, no offense, but I can’t hear them very well when you’re yelling in my ear.”

“I’m not yelling!”

“You are when I’m using my buzz-buzz.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

As Lois sat silently, Clark listened for a moment longer. “Lois! You’re not gonna believe this!”

“Lemme guess. That’s the CEO of the Sidney Corporation in that limo, and he’s giving instructions to Tricky Dick?”

Clark turned to his wife and smiling, reached out to cup her face in his hand. “You are *good*.”

Lois smiled back, turning slightly and kissing his palm. “I’ll hold you to that. Later.”

“Deal.”

“So, that explains the notes you scribbled down during the writers’ meeting this afternoon.”

Clark nodded. “Partially. I heard ‘Blondie’ and Einstein talking about a ‘meeting’ and ‘dealing with the rumors.’ Guess they really do play for keeps here in Hollywood.”

“I still don’t get it, Clark. Does it really just come down to money and profit?”

Clark shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it does. As long as the right ‘spin’ is put on things, John and Jane Q. Public won’t suspect a thing.”

Lois smiled. “This is a switch. Usually it’s the other way around and I’m the cynical one.”

He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “What’s that phrase I keep seeing on all the billboards out here? Oh yeah, ‘It’s the cheese.’ Either that or you can blame it on El Nino. They say it’s responsible for everything else.”

“Well, let’s get this wrapped up quickly. If this were an hour-long drama, we’d only have the last fifteen minutes to resolve everything.”

“Right. We still need to figure out where the missing writers are, Songer’s part in all this…”

“*And* expose the Sidney Corporation for what it really is.”

“*And* try to save ‘Mary Jane and Peter.’ ”

Lois grimaced at that last remark. “I’m not sure if that last part is our responsibility, Clark. Jim Linear seems to have a good idea of what the show needs, and the other writers, albeit a bit unimaginative, aren’t such a bad lot.”

“Okay, then. Let’s focus on finding the missing writers and exposing the Sidney Corporation. The rest of it we’ll leave to fate.”

Lois and Clark watched the clandestine meeting end and the limo drive away. Songer stood there for a moment before returning to his car. As he drove away, Lois and Clark headed back toward their hotel.

Lois took the wrong ramp onto the freeway, and soon found that she was taking them on a trip to Tijuana if they didn’t find an off ramp.

“What is it about the LA freeways? I swear…,” she muttered, “back home you get on the turnpike, go through a couple tunnels and some toll booths, cut through the park, and you’re there.”

The next exit up said Burbank, though, and Lois sighed thankfully that she wouldn’t have to refold the already spindled and mutilated map they’d used constantly since arriving.

‘Burbank 1/4’ said the sign. Looks like a stock market ticker, she thought. Stocks. Sidney stock.

“Clark! I’ve got it!” The car veered as her mind raced.

“Great, honey. Just don’t kill us before you solve the whole Hollywood plot.”

Lois eyed him, unperturbed. “Like that would ever happen. Look, this whole thing revolves around the Sidney Corporation. The fate of the show, the fate of the missing writers…I think it even affects the fate of Sidney.”

Clark looked at his wife admiringly. “You got all this from a freeway sign?”

“Shhh, I’m thinking…It’s kind of like when you can’t hear others over me with your buzz-buzz. Okay, here’s the deal –we need to get the remaining writers together, and set up that awful script I wrote to shoot, and flush out the bad guys.”

“Bad guys? God, you even sound Hollywood, Lois. Who says bad guys when they’re talking about criminals in real life?”

“When in Rome, Clark. Listen…”

“… it’s simple. Sidney wants a network–”

“Honey, they have the Sidney Channel.”

“Yes, but *that’s* premium cable. They want to enter the commercial network arena, but they don’t want to have to start from scratch to do it like 20th Century Vixen did. Now Vixen is a major player, but it took them a decade to earn it, and so–”

Clark’s eyebrows rose. “–so Sidney buys an established commercial network, sabotages programs they don’t own, and installs theirs instead.”

“Exactly! They get the revenue and cut themselves a sweet deal by buying their own product for a Songer..er a song.”

“That’s why Stern was afraid his BCA stock was in jeopardy. The other two major networks are owned by Corporal Electric and..”

“Easting House,” Lois added. “Neither of which produces television or motion pictures, and therefore can’t flood their respective networks with product from one major studio.”

Clark shook his head. “We should have seen this coming, honey. Remember that story about the producers from BCA’s top-rated sitcom ‘Home Renovation’ suing Sidney Corp, accusing them of entering into a ‘sweetheart deal’ with BCA.”

Lois rested her head against the seat. “It was right in front of us the whole time, Clark. Even though ‘Home Renovation’ is owned by Sidney, the production company..oh, what is it? WingWalker? WindSkater?”

“AirDancer.”

“Right!” She smiled. “AirDancer wanted to shop ‘Home Renovation’ around to the top bidder because it had reached its obligation with BCA and so was sort of a free agent.”

“But Sidney went over their heads and sold it below fair market value to BCA. Maybe in hopes that would finally convince BCA to sell the network to them. Lock, stock, and…”

“Spider-Man.”

Clark suddenly leaned toward Lois and ran a finger along her jawline. “Lois, remember that scene in the movie ‘Network’?”

“You mean the ‘mad as hell’ scene?”

“No, the scene with William Holden and Faye Dunaway where they’re discussing ratings.”

“And get more and more…excited?”

“That’s the one,” Clark said, his voice low and very sensual.

Lois veered quickly back toward the exit to their hotel.

*****

The next day Lois and Clark hurried into the writers’ offices. They had overslept. When they arrived, everyone seemed quite somber. Linear looked up as they entered.

“They’re on to us. We’re sunk. We have to do the network’s storyline.”

“Not necessarily,” Clark smiled. “You guys were trying to get Superman to do a cameo in your episode, right?”

“Superman,” Rosenblatt laughed bitterly. “No problem. I’ll pick him up at LAX. What time is his flight?”

“If Jerry says he can get Superman, *believe* me, he can get Superman.”

“That’s great, Jo,” Macintyre said. “But he can’t save Spider-Man from the network.”

“Maybe not, but it’s better than giving up,” Simpson conceded. “There’s one thing we can do to try and forestall–”

“You don’t mean–” Rosenblatt said, looking a bit horror-stricken.

“Yes, I do,” Simpson smiled. “Major spoilers plastered all over the internet. Jimmy, you take AOL, Mac, you take Compuserve, and alt.tv.mj-spider is all mine.”

Linear laughed evilly and opened his laptop. “That leaves the IRC. Can you handle that, Jo?”

Lois shrugged. “I’m still trying to figure out ‘spoilers’. Sounds like something on a souped-up Chevy.”

“It’s advance info on upcoming episodes. I don’t know how fans find this stuff out, but they do,” Macintyre explained. Linear whistled innocently as he typed.

“Okay, so we go to the relay chat and blow the whistle on Sidney, BCA, and Hamster–”

“Gerbil, honey.”

“Whatever.”

“That’s about it,” Simpson nodded. “We have to have a rush of e-mail, posts, whatever we can get.”

“What about the fans themselves? ” Clark suggested. “Can we get them to come to Burbank?”

Linear laughed. “Just ask them if they’d like to meet Dane and Sheri in person. They’ll be here.”

“Would Dane and Sheri be willing to help?”

Macintyre shrugged without losing a beat in his typing. “Depends, but you can ask.”

Lois glanced at Clark. “Or Superman could ask.”

“On my way…to use the phone..and ask him,” Clark said. “Uh..Superman.”

“You’ll have to hit up the IRC at night. Go to #webslinger. They’ll be there.”

“But why would they believe *me*? I’m nobody.”

Linear laughed again. “You’ve already been posted on message boards and usenet as the ‘new writers’. *They* know you.”

*****

A while later Lois stood by the water tower of the studio. It was very near the guard gate. Finally there was the familiar ==whoosh== and her spandex-clad husband landed. “Talk about a dramatic entrance,” she smiled.

Clark shrugged. “It’s Hollywood.”

Suddenly the guard came out of his booth. “You’re the third one to sneak by in that costume today, pal. This time I’m calling the cops.”

Clark floated up out of reach and Lois shook her head. “What a ham.”

The guard’s jaw dropped open. “Su..Superman?”

“Afraid so,” he smiled and then descended.

The guard beamed and shook his hand. “I’m sorry, Superman. Can I show you to the Spider-Man set?”

Lois looped her arm through Clark’s. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. You can go back to keeping the studio safe from phony superheroes.”

The guard looked slightly disappointed, but returned to his booth.

“So,” Clark said as they headed for stage 14. “We get some Superman publicity for Spider-Man, and then later tonight hit up the IRC?”

“That’s the plan,” Lois sighed. “But having fans put on a show of force is what really would help.”

“Then maybe we can convince Sheri and Dane to be available?”

Lois smiled. “I think Superman might charm them into saying yes.”

Clark x-rayed the soundstage. “Unfortunately they aren’t on the set.”

“Maybe their trailers.”

Clark smiled rather wickedly. “Think if I x-ray Sheri’s trailer, she might be dressing?”

Lois elbowed him in the stomach. “Just to make sure you *don’t* run the risk, x-ray that trailer that says ‘Dane Staff’ on it. If he happens to be dressing, I’m okay with that, and you can use long, descriptive words.”

Clark laughed. “Fair enough,” he said, and x-rayed the trailer.

“Oh my…” Clark said, just staring.

“What is it?”

“Um..he’s not alone in the trailer.”

“Oooh,” Lois smiled. “Anyone famous?”

“Well, yeah…you could say that.”

Lois tugged at his arm. “Who!”

“Sheri Brooden, that’s who.”

“What!” screamed Lois. She gave Clark a slap on the forearm. “You had better not be kidding me, buster!”

“Honey, it’s a good thing you can’t see inside his trailer. I’d probably be picking you up off the pavement of this parking lot,” Clark teased.

“Are they doing anything interesting?

“Define ‘interesting’,” Clark said with raised eyebrows. “Let’s just say they know more about each other than you and I did three months after we were married.”

“Clark, were they finishing or beginning? If you catch my drift.”

Clark hesitated. “Lois, do you really want me to…?”

“Naahh, we better wait them out.”

Some two hours later Lois and Clark returned to the actor’s trailer. “Do you think they’re still in there?” Lois asked.

Clark lowered his glasses and scanned the trailer for only a second. He pushed his glasses back up with a sigh.

“Well? What’s happening? Are they still in there? Lois’ impatience was showing. She was the type of person who always wanted to be in the know about everything around her. “I wish you could somehow let me see what you see when you’re using your buzz-buzz.”

“Well, we might as well take another long walk around the lot. They’re still ‘involved’ with possible plot changes,” he said as a group of tourists walked by.

Lois laughed. “Sounds like Dane might be related to you. Are you sure your parents didn’t send another spaceship?”

Clark grinned. “I’m sure, Lois. Maybe we should go find whoever’s in charge today and get details of my Superman appearance ironed out. They can’t possibly last much longer.”

As they started to walk away, a harried production assistant rushed up to the trailer and started banging on the door. “Hey, you two, you’re needed on the set right now!”

Clark’s superhearing picked up the sound of muffled groans, and after a few minutes, Dane appeared at the trailer door. He looked a bit rumpled, but started off toward the set mumbling something about Sheri being there in a few minutes. Lois and Clark exchanged an amused look and followed.

<ChrisM^>

Lois and Superman followed Dane onto the set. Along the way Lois noticed the curious glances and surprised looks that her partner was getting from the other cast members and the crew. Even in Hollywood where they’d probably seen everything, Clark could still turn heads in his red, yellow and blue.

Dane came up then to let the director, Wade, know that Sheri was on her way.

“Oh? Okay, thanks, man,” was all the response he got before being hustled off to the makeup department. Wade seemed to hardly notice that one of his stars had left and that the other one was nowhere in sight. He was too busy talking to Superman.

Clark tried to get in a word edgewise. “I don’t think you’ve met Jo Miller, Mr. uh …?”

“Wade, Superman, just Wade.” He turned to Lois, “Hi, nice to meet ya,” and then quickly turned back to Superman. “So, Superman, tell me …”

Great! thought Lois, another Superman fanatic. She had just decided to mingle with the crew to see if she could get any leads on the missing writers, when she caught the rest of Wade’s sentence.

” … just what is Lois Lane really like?”

Lois spun back around, caught the dumbfounded look on her husband’s face and nearly fell over laughing. I can’t wait to hear this, she thought gleefully.

Superman cleared his throat and seemed to be giving the matter a lot of thought. “Well … Wade. She’s …”

“Yeah, she’s what?”

“Married.”

Lois watched Wade for a reaction. She wasn’t sure how to interpret the long look he gave her husband. She never got a chance to ponder this any further, though, as suddenly there was a commotion behind her. She heard Sheri’s familiar voice coming from the entrance of the set.

She turned and watched the actress walk onto the set. She looked a little … disheveled, and her mood seemed to match her appearance. She was complaining about the working conditions to anyone who cared to listen, which, from the looks of it, weren’t too many people. A couple of the crew members apologized quickly and went back to their various tasks.

Lois made a mental note about the actress she had gotten to know only the day before. She was quite something, talented, friendly, intelligent, but with a temper. One that would be a match to her own, Lois thought with a wry smile. In the meantime, the bathrobe-clad actress had made her way over to Wade.

He was giving her considerably more interest than he had given her co-star, but eventually he reminded her about the makeup touch-up too. After complaining that he thought she needed one, Sheri obliged suddenly when Dane’s name was mentioned.

Lois could hardly suppress a grin. She shot a look at Clark who had withdrawn to the sidelines unobtrusively. Lois slowly made her way over to him, trying not to appear too interested in him. She didn’t want to get a reputation of being a ‘supie groupie’, though everybody else seemed to be one.

In an attempt to appear to be gathering information for a future script based on the life of *this* particular superhero, she had a notepad in hand, but was doodling on it rather than taking notes.

Instead, she was talking to Clark in a low voice.

Clark was gathering information of his own. Still trying to pick up clues about the disappearing writers, he had cocked his head lightly as he was scanning the sets and adjoining rooms. Suddenly, he blushed as his ears homed in on the make-up room.

“What is it?” Lois asked.

“Oh, I ,,, I eavesdropped …”

Curiosity aroused, Lois raised her notepad and faked scribbling faster. “Okay, spill.”

“Lois …”

“Aww, c’mon. This is Hollywood. Everything here is …”

Still looking somewhat uncomfortable, Clark relented. “Dane and Sheri are whispering about finding a way to get back to her trailer … Belay that, they’ve just sent the makeup person out on an errand. — And have locked the door from the inside.”

“Really …?” Lois’s voice held a mixture of amusement and … jealousy. Pretending not to know her husband that closely was becoming harder by the minute, especially with so much hanky-panky going on around them, however covertly.

She gave him a conspiratorial look and whispered in turn. “You know, I’ll tell Wade I have to gather some *very* important information for the script about *another* superhero. Do you think you could help me obtain that information …?”

Catching on her mood, Clark grinned, though blushing slightly. “I’ll do my best, though this might not be the best location for that.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Lois smiled knowingly. “I’m sure we can find some place more suitable for the … interview. Gosh, I feel as if I haven’t really kissed you in ages.”

“Not since we left the hotel.” Clark grinned, then added a little more seriously. “Which is *way* too long. I’ll meet you over …” He nodded his head towards a deserted area behind the trailers.

With that, Lois marched off towards Wade’s director’s chair.

Clark turned to launch himself into the air, but before he could make his escape, he heard a voice behind him.

“Superman,” Linear smiled. “Here’s your script.” He put a hand on Superman’s back and headed him back to the center of the soundstage. Clark’s cape sagged with disappointment.

Lois observed her husband’s dejected face with amused sympathy. “Oy,” she sighed.

Linear talked with excitement about Superman’s lines as he ushered the superhero onward. “I think this can have pathos, Superman. Wade’s great in getting to the emotional center.”

“Emotional..center?”

“Yeah, that heart and soul stuff.”

“Let’s give it a try, Supes,” Wade said, putting Superman in front of the cameras. “We’ll run a little test on you. You can read from the script, or we can set up cue cards.”

Clark frowned and handed him the script. “I’ve memorized the whole thing already. Someone misspelled Metropolis.”

“Okay, Supes, I like a quick study. Has Dane gotten out of makeout..er makeup yet?”

“No, sir,” the assistant director said.

“Okay, we just need a reader. Ms. Miller, would you read with Supes here? You can do Sheri’s lines. I’ll do Dane.”

“But, I–”

“Thanks a million, doll,” he interrupted and handed her the script. “I’m going to say ‘action’ and that’s on you, Supes. Ms. Miller, you cue off him. Got it?”

“Not really.”

“Perfect, here we go. Action.”

Clark cleared his throat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mary Jane. You and Spider-Man have–”

“Ouch, cut!” the director called. He grabbed Clark’s shoulders and moved them back and forth. “Let it go, Supes, don’t be so … stiff. This is real. It’s happening! Superman and Spider-Man meet! Moses would weep. Ready? Feel it? Action!”

Clark blinked. He felt … assaulted. “It’s a PLEASURE to meet you, Mary Jane!”

“Cut! Supes, baby, louder isn’t what I had in mind. Can you smile?”

“Of *course* he can smile,” Lois said, finally recovered from the horror of seeing Clark act.

“How about a thud intro?”

Clark raised his eyebrows. “Th..thud?”

The director climbed on a chair, made whooshing noises, and then dropped

down. “Thud! Get that?”

Clark’s eyes narrowed. “Got it.”

“Good deal, Supes! Circle the building, swoop down and thud on your mark. It’s that X on the floor.”

“I *know* what my mark is, and the name is *Superman*. Not ‘Supes’. Not ‘baby’.”

“Whoa, attitude, babe! You’ve got it. Hold it!”

Clark drifted up and flew off the soundstage and Lois set her script on the chair.

“I’ll see you later, Wade baby. Supes ain’t comin’ back.”

Wade stared after Lois for a moment as she left the soundstage. He turned back toward the set and saw several dozen pairs of eyes trained on him.

“Waddaya all lookin’ at? He’s a superhero, for pete’s sake! Maybe he had to go save someone from jumping.” He looked to his assistant. In a low, carefully controlled voice, he spoke. “Tell those two to get on the set now! I don’t care if they’re half-dressed. This scene gets shot now.”

The assistant scurried to comply.

The director plopped wearily back into his chair. “And for this I gave up med school…” he muttered.

*****

The phone rang. A dainty, manicured hand reached for the speakerphone button.

“Einstein here.”

“There’s chaos on the soundstage.”

Einstein abruptly dislodged the blonde from his lap and pulled the receiver from its resting place. “Chaos? What do you mean?”

“The makeup room is locked. And Superman just flew off.”

The blonde stood up, smoothing the front of her skin-tight dress. She came up behind Einstein intent on continuing what they had begun. Einstein wasn’t interested and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. The blonde pouted and walked toward the office door, her hips swaying in an exaggerated manner, hoping that he would notice.

Einstein didn’t notice that; he was seeing his carefully laid out plans …make that *their* carefully laid out plans… coming to fruition.

“Really? You don’t say. So, I guess that means that there’ll be a delay with the episode?”

He could almost hear the shrug on the other end of the phone. “Maybe, maybe not. There’s a lot of questions being asked. Mainly by Jo Miller and her writing partner.”

“Miller? I read her script. Talk about hackneyed and trite. My mother could write a better script.”

“That may be the case, but she’s asking an awful lot of questions. And people are talking to her. *Especially* that Linear guy.”

Einstein began to mumble. “Never did like that guy. Too darn nice to be true.” Einstein thought for a moment longer. “Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

The connection was broken and Einstein immediately dialed another number from memory. Once he got through, he started in.

“It’s me. Everything’s going as you said it would. But, we’ve got some problems.” He paused, listening. “Yeah. Jo Miller….Uh huh….yeah, Linear’s been talking to her and her writing partner……” He listened again. “Right. I understand. What about ….? Oh, OK. You’ll take care of Dane and Sheri. Right.”

He hung up the phone and decided that he needed to see for himself exactly what was and wasn’t going on down on the soundstage. He quickly left the office.

As the door closed, Superman let himself in through the window. He had suspected that Einstein might have a ‘mole’ on the soundstage, so he had kept his superhearing trained on the phone lines. To make doubly sure, he had hovered outside of Einstein’s office, out of sight, thankful that he didn’t have to see Einstein and the blonde doing the horizontal lambada.

He lifted the receiver and pressed ‘redial’. He waited for the connection to be made. When he heard the voice on the other line, he smiled. Hanging up, he left through the window in search of Lois. One of the final pieces of the puzzle had just fallen into place.

He spotted Lois walking away from the soundstage. He noticed she was trying to act as if nothing was wrong, but his ‘mate-sense’ clued him in immediately that she was on the scent of something big. He swooshed down behind the catering truck and came around the front dressed as Clark. As soon as he approached her both began to talk at once.

“You won’t believe what I just overheard after you flew away!”

“I homed in onto a phone call to Einstein,” he said, before she had a chance to continue.

“You go first.” Lois looked up at him.

“I heard his phone conversation with the director. When he was finished he placed another call. I waited until he was gone from the office and went in to find who he was talking to. You won’t believe this, honey. It was Mr. Mort Sidney himself.”

Lois shook her head in agreement. “I’m not surprised. I just overheard he’s making a deal with the production company to end the series. He wants to replace ‘Spider-man’ with a more ‘inline’ series. He’s setting up a private hush-hush meeting for later this afternoon.

“Ah,” Clark smiled. “Makes sense. I do remember Sidney saying he wanted a return to Sunday nights of ‘The Amazing World of Sidney’.”

“Only a couple of things are in the way,” Lois offered.

“Right. Spider-Man and ‘America’s Most Appalling Videos’.”

“Exactly!”

“You know,” Clark whispered. “This all smells of the so-called ‘sweetheart’ deals we discussed earlier. They get rid of shows that aren’t Sidney, and it literally becomes the Sidney Network, but the name BCA remains like a straw man … a front.”

Lois nodded. “It’s like Russia’s good old days of taking over countries , but letting them keep their flags.”

Clark sighed. “Well, I’ll swallow my pride and return to the set as ‘Superman’ and suffer the director. You go back to the hotel and get that laptop rigged for the IRC. Maybe we can stem the tide.” He kissed her briefly.

She smiled. “Please be good on the set, Supes. I’ve always wanted to go to the Golden Globes,” she said, and tugged his tie playfully.

“That’s *not* happening, honey, but keep the Razzies in mind.”

“Ouch,” she laughed, and he watched admiringly as she departed. She made his life so much easier and fuller. He truly wondered where he’d be without her, but would be touched to know she thought the same thing

“Mm,” he said, and ducked back behind the catering truck and spun back into Superman. When he re-entered the soundstage, Dane and Sheri were in front of the camera doing a scene. Clark watched them with fascination. He felt like he was eavesdropping on real lovers. Though to tell the truth, he had been all day.

“Cut! Great, thank you. Supes …Superman. You’re back!”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I had an emergency earlier.”

“Ha!” the director shouted triumphantly. “I told ya, he was out doing the superhero bit. What was the emergency?”

“I had to leave to save your life,” Clark said with a completely straight face. The tension broke and Dane and Sheri began laughing. The director mopped his brow.

“Don’t scare me like that, Supes..Superman,” he laughed nervously. “Break! Five minutes to change the camera,” he said, and walked to the craft table for a snack.

Clark took the opportunity of Wade’s departure to speak to Sheri and Dane. He wanted to talk them into offering their services in the name of saving their show. However, if they weren’t willing, he was not opposed to blackmail.

The rest of the shooting day passed uneventfully. After signing a few autographs and taking pictures with the cast and crew, Superman zoomed off to meet Lois back at the hotel.

*****

Lois looked up from her laptop screen and smiled as she heard the familiar whoosh that accompanied her husband’s arrival. He entered through the window that she had left open and spun into his Clark clothes as he walked across the hotel room toward the sitting area where Lois was.

“So, ready to chuck the worries of the world and ‘go Hollywood,’ Supes?” The twinkle in her eye and the light teasing tone in her voice told Clark that things had gone well since they had last seen each other.

“Don’t think so. I don’t think I’ll even get a nomination for the Razzies.”

Lois acknowledged his comment with a short, “Hmm,” her focus back on the laptop.

Clark leaned over her shoulder and read her screen. “Any trouble getting on IRC?”

“Kind of. Washington was closed, so I had to try Springfield. I’m on

through that, but I think I’m lagged.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, honey. Just hang in there. The important thing is that you’re on.”

“Yeah. And I’m in #webslinger. Linear was right. These people know who I am. Jeez! They know more about the show than even the writers do….” Her voice trailed off and she and Clark read the screen as the chat scrolled by them.

Suddenly, Clark spoke up. “Hey! Do you see who just came on the channel?”

Lois checked the screen. “Wow. He’s got a lot of guts….”

“Yeah, but look at how everyone’s greeting him. Like he’s been on before.”

“He probably has. Let’s check this out….”

Lois began typing. >>>Hi Jim! This is BlkWidow. WidowMate is here with me too. How’re things going? <G>>>>

Lois and Clark held their breaths waiting for a reply. Finally it came…

>>>Hey Widow and Mate! I’m lagging, but everything’s going A-OK <G> … BTW, our mutual rocket scientist friend, ‘relatively’ speaking, is getting worried …>>>

>>>As well he should be, Jim. We think we know how to end this “theory” with positive results … but we’re not singing a Sidney tune while we work <G>>>>

>>>Great! Sounds like all fronts are united on this .>>> Lois couldn’t help a little teasing. >>>Well, at least all the fronts we can see <BEG> …some of the time, it’s only their backsides that are seen … way too often <BEG>>>>

>>><sigh> … I know, Widow …>>>

“He knows? How many people know about Sheri and Dane?”

Lois shrugged. “Apparently, more than we thought. Even some of the FoWs have heard rumors.”

Clark pointed at the screen. “Look who just came on now.”

Lois checked the names. “TheWEBBys? You don’t think….?”

Clark nodded. “Dane and Sheri. Superman convinced them that it would be a good idea to spread some positive spin on the show.”

Lois looked up at her husband. “Good for Superman.” She reached out to caress his face. “Good for you, too.”

>>>Hi WEBBys…

>>>hola TheWEBBys…

>>>howdy WEBBys, spin any good webs today?>>>

The banter went on as many others on-line greeted TheWEBBys.

***W changes the topic to: “Please /msg hellos and goodbyes!”***

>>>Hello everyone..Did anyone see this week’s episode? What did you think of it?>>>

TheWEBBys continued to talk about the series and the episode until one quick-witted on-liner took special notice of a response Sheri made about her character’s hair and wig problems.

Boom jumped in and asked >>> What did you think of Wade’s treatment of Superman on the set today?>>>

Without stopping to think they typed: >>>We wouldn’t blame Superman if he made Wade into a wad.>>>

That was just the opening others needed who sensed who they were. Questions and comments sent the screen scrolling by. The channel was packed. Widow and Mate were silenced by the joy of the fans.

<ChrisM^>

Lois and Clark watched in fascination at the fast moving scroll on the screen in front of them. It was obvious how much the fans loved MJ&P, and how much Jim, Sheri and Dane appreciated their fans. It was such a shame that a rodent’s greed was interfering with all that.

Little by little, Jim and the show’s two stars were letting slip some of the behind-the-scenes stuff — the underhanded way that the network was treating their show — and the reaction was predictably nuclear. Everything was going smoothly when suddenly Jim said he needed to log off.

Lois and Clark looked at each other. Why would he be leaving now? Everything ‘looked’ all right, and yet … Then, when Jim called her BrnWidow, they knew they were right. Something *was* wrong.

Lois looked over to Clark again, but saw that he was two spins ahead of her. He was already changing into a certain superhero. Before she could turn back to the screen, he was out the window and headed for Jim’s condo.

She was just sending Jim a message to try and let him know that help was on the way without alerting any nefarious types to the fact that they were about to be badly outnumbered when she got a private message from ‘Sman.’

It said that he had gotten there in time and was going to take his new “friends” on an aerial tour of L.A., to see if they could point out any interesting landmarks to him … like the one where a couple of screenwriters were being housed.

She wished him luck, and returned her attention to the channel where the FoWS were busily plotting to save their show.

*****

It didn’t take too long for Superman’s passengers to see the wisdom of being completely open with him. As it turned out, they were the same men responsible for Willamena and Chad’s disappearance.

A trip with Superman Airways was always special. For those not used to it such as Clark’s two involuntary passengers, the scenic route over the city was taking longer than they cared for even though it was free. Clark later said that he wasn’t intentionally cruel, but there just seemed to be a lot of turbulence that day, and it took extra aerobatics to get around it. After about fifteen dozen loops and evasive turns, the passenger stowed away under Clark’s left arm, taking on an even deeper shade of green, mumbled something under his breath that even Clark had a hard time picking up.

“What was that … Vince?” Clark’s patience was wearing thin, and he went into another somersault.

“The … Yummy Fudge…” was all green Vince managed.

“Yummy fudge …?” Clark asked, somewhat incredulous. He silently added, I’d think that would be the last thing that would be on your minds by now.

Clark was elegantly turning and beginning to start on another downward spiral.

“No, wait …” The other spoke up for the first time since takeoff, trying to tighten his hold on Clark’s belt. “He’s not pulling your leg. That’s where they are.”

Clark frowned for a moment. Then he suddenly recalled a review of new places to eat in Metropolis. The Yummy Fudge had been one of them. It was part of an ice cream parlor chain in the not quite so elegant northern part of Metropolis.

Taking a sharp turn that brought another groan — and something else that was subject to gravity — from Vince’s mouth, Superman homed in on the part of Los Angeles that housed a Yummy Fudge and, as Clark knew, other shady establishments.

Not bothering to check if the front door was open, Clark, having seen the large “Closed” sign suspended in the window, went straight to the back. The door there didn’t offer much resistance to the super-handshake Clark offered in greeting. Instead, it bowed towards Clark as it came off its hinges willingly.

Discarding the obliging door, Clark entered the back storage room of the ice cream parlor, depositing his two passengers in an empty garbage container. Then deciding that they might appreciate being out of bright sunlight for a while after their flight, he closed the sliding lid above them.

His eyes adjusted to the dim lighting inside quickly, but his super nose didn’t. The place reeked of sour milk and … evidence of people being held captive without proper sanitary facilities. Clark idly wondered if the authorities would approve of the overloaded porta-potty sitting off in a corner right next to a large carton of malt flavor powder.

Crossing the room, Clark then saw two people lying on cots. They weren’t moving, but Clark could hear their steady heartbeat and even breathing which told him that they were only sleeping.

They were tied up with ropes, and Clark bent to remove them quickly without startling them too much. Bending over them, he confirmed what he’d already guessed. There was stubble on the guy’s face, but otherwise they matched the pictures of the two missing writers he had seen earlier.

*****

Superman, the writers, producers, cast and a few thousand fans gathered at the press conference. It was a dream finish for Perry White, what he would call a ‘defining moment’ well, maybe an ‘increased subscriber’ moment. Lois smiled at her husband as the reinstated writers wove their tale of captivity.

Lois, having heard the unembellished version of the story drifted through the crowd and a sea of Spider-Man T-shirts. A network executive, happy to have Sidney Corp off his back, was practically drooling at the ratings this ‘tragedy’ would mean to the TV series. He shook his head, “Eat your heart out, Seinfeld.”

She found herself ‘backstage’ at the press conference where Dane and Sheri seemed to be arguing over some point. Happening to eavesdrop she heard that Dane was encouraging her to use this spotlight to admit that she and he were having a ‘relationship’. Dane seemed to be frustrated by the outcome of the argument, and walked away.

Lois put a hand on Sheri’s shoulder. Sheri turned. “Oh, Ms. Miller..or I should say Ms. Lane.”

“Why don’t you just come clean, Sheri?” Lois said matter-of-factly.

Sheri dabbed a tissue at her nose. “Because I’d look like a…a.. cliché. Falling in love with my co-star? Please.”

“Well, then I’m *living* a cliché,” Lois said. “I married my co-worker, and believe me, I fought the attraction every step of the way.”

“What made you change your mind?” Sheri sniffed.

“Persistence on his part. That, and he’s probably the kindest, most romantic man I’ve ever known.” Lois looked thoughtful. “If I had given him a chance earlier, I could have been happy a lot sooner, but I … held back.”

Sheri glanced up from the tissue. “Why?”

“Ah,” Lois sighed. “Part of it was image. I’d made a fool of myself with a jerk named Claude. The Planet staff had to suffer my wrath, depression, and chocolate binges over that one. Then I made an international fool of myself by almost marrying Lex Luthor. I figured after two monumental disasters like that, the ‘co-worker cliché’ would seal my reputation as love-starved lunatic forever.”

“I can understand that,” Sheri sighed. “No place is more image-conscious than Hollywood. Maybe that’s the main thing holding me back, too.”

Lois shrugged. “Do you love him?”

“Yes,” she sighed again. “But…I’m not divorced.”

Lois laughed. “That’s Hollywood for ‘I’m married’?”

Sheri laughed in response. “I guess. My ‘husband’..” she said, drawing air quotes, “and I haven’t lived together for months, but sometimes maintaining the status quo, no matter how bad, seems ..safer.”

“But you might end up without either of them if you keep this up.”

Sheri took on a philosophic air. “Being alone is sometimes better than wishing you were. If you know what I mean.”

Lois patted her back. “Just ask who you’d rather be with a year from now, and I think you’ll know what to do.”

Clark entered, smoothing his tie. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” Sheri said, “I was just leaving. I have to go find Dane.”

Clark put his arm around Lois and watched Sheri depart. “Been giving advice to the lovelorn?”

Lois smiled up at him. “I think I’m at least as good in that department as you are in the acting department.”

“Uh oh,” Clark teased. “I’ll read the lawsuit update section in Entertainment Leaky closely the next few months.”

Lois suddenly leaped into his arms. “Let’s go back to Metropolis, Clark. We’ve destroyed as much of LALA land as we can.”

Clark laughed. “Our work is done here.”

“You think Einstein will be prosecuted?”

“Probably, but first there’s a press release about his new TV sci-fi show ‘TimeClock’, produced by our beloved Mr. Songer. Einstein’s holding a media conference with cocktails at the L.A. county jail at midnight before sentencing.”

“Midnight?”

“Well, he had a premiere to attend first,” Clark winked.

“And *why* would Songer work for a crook who kidnapped his..associate?!”

“Thirteen with an option on the back nine.”

Lois raised her eyebrows. “Translation?”

Clark laughed. “Thirteen episodes guaranteed, with an option for nine additional episodes to create a full season if the first thirteen rate well.

“I hate this place,” Lois said, but kissed Clark’s cheek tenderly.

“Oh,” Clark added. “Remember that locket and that cash?”

“Vaguely,” Lois said airily, wiping lipstick from Clark’s jawline and then making fresh lip prints in the same spot.

“It seems the blonde was a go-between for Einstein and Sidney, whose arrest is imminent, assuming they find him.”

Lois feigned shock. “He took a powder?”

“Yes, but someone phoned in a tip to search Red Riding Hood’s Cottage at Sidneyland.”

Lois laughed softly against Clark’s ear. “Someone with x-ray vision?”

“Could be,” he shrugged. “Anyway, the blonde was trying to make money on the side. She told Songer she’d be good to Willamena for a bribe, but Songer wanted proof she had access to Willamena, so–”

“So little Miss Blonde Bombshell took a locket that Songer would know was Willamena’s.”

“Yep, and the head writers were kidnapped because they found out what Einstein was up to and threatened to contact the FCC, the L.A. Times, and Variety.”

“Variety? Skip it, it’s Hollywood.”

Clark set Lois down a moment, looked around and then spun back into Superman. He picked her up and left the hoopla and klieg lights behind.

Lois stroked his hair. “Ever think they’ll do a show about us?”

Clark shook his head. “Who’d believe it?”

They both laughed as they flew into the palm-strewn sunset.

THE END

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