"Are you sure?"

There's something close to worry in his tone, which is new to her. She looks up to see a slight frown on his face; next to him, Diana stands, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on her features.

Lois tries to do the same and to not give any of the emotions she's feeling away.

"I am."

The elevator stops, and before either of them can add anything, she heads out and towards Alfred's desk. Breathe - just breathe.

"Good evening, Miss Lane."

"Hi, Alfred."

"Are you okay?", he asks softly before the others join them, and she smiles at him, nodding her head yes even if she's starting to feel sick. She's always liked Alfred.

As Bruce and Diana appear next to her, she searches the now familiar cave with her eyes, but before she even has to ask, Bruce points towards the far end of it, where two extra walls have recently been put up and now form a small room.

She nods again, and, not for the first time since they told her about the plan, asks about what hasn't stopped worrying her. "Is everything working as you planned? Isn't it too dangerous?"

As the words leave her mouth, she hears that her question could be interpretated as if she was asking about her own safety, which, franckly, she doesn't care about much right now. They must really have gotten the hang of her over the past year, though, because they understand.

Alfred speaks. "Everything is working so far, yes. You can go in, if you want."

"And don't forget what we've told you," Bruce adds with a knowing look.

Lois feels herself nod again, eyes still fixed on the dark corner, and slowly starts to move towards it, heartbeat rising with each step. She doesn't quiet know what she's feeling right now: fear, excitement, joy, sadness, confusion, more hapiness that she has probably ever known. All of the above.

It barely feels real.

Diana walks with her, and she doesn't wait, doesn't give them a reason to doubt her ability to do this, because what she really wouldn't be able to handle would be to be kept away from here. She nods for her to open the massive door.

"If you need us, just say it." With that, she opens it.

Lois doesn't know what she expected, or how she expected herself to react. As it turns out, the first thing she feels is a sudden urge to cry.

Mainly from relief, she thinks. She's not sure, but then again, it's not just one feeling, it's millions of them, all at once, each one more intense than the other, all of them assaulting her so violently she thinks she might collapse.

Surprisingly, she doesn't feel her eyes burn, though there's a lump in her throat she wills herself to control.

Ever since Bruce and Diana told her, Lois has been waiting for the moment where they would call her back and tell her it was a mistake, that they're sorry, but that's in the end, it's not true. Until the very last minute, she has waited to be told that what she has secretly been praying for all this time was, and would remain a dream.

But it's not, and here she is, looking into those beautiful blues eyes she thought she'd never see again.

For a second, Lois thinks she sees a confused frown on his face, but if she does, it's gone as soon as it appeared. He just stares, and all she can do is stare back.

He's here – Clark's here.

He died, and her entire world collapsed because he was – is, always will be – the love of her life, even if she didn't have the time to tell him on that terrible night in Gotham, an now he's here again. He's here, and yet Lois immediately knows that he's far, far away, because even if those are very similar, so similar it could fool almost everybody, these are not Clark's eyes.

His are warm, familiar, and, when he looks at her, always filled with love. It's cliché, she knows, but it's just true. Those, however – those eyes are cold, distant, angry, and she feels like crying, but this time for an entire different reason.

It's not the only thing that's different: his hair is slightly longer, his skin is paler than it used to be, he has a beard again. Even his costume has changed, the blue and red Krptonian outfit now entirely black.

Despite all that, what shocks her the most, and make her insides jump out, are his eyes.

Quickly shaking herself, Lois takes an imperceptible breath and pushes from the door, trying with all she has to fight back her first instinct and throw herself in his arms. She walks into the room, occupied by only a small bed, a table with some books and the latest Daily Planet on it, food and water, and a green plant – Alfred's touch, no doubt - hoping with all she has her legs won't give up on her.

They don't, and she goes to sit right in front of him. He's on the floor, so she drops her bag and sit there too, at the opposite end of the small space. So small, in fact, that if they both stretch out their legs, they'd touch.

"I thought the Batman would at least make me the honor of interrogating me himself", he finally says.

Lois represses the chill going down her spine at the sound of his voice. She thinks she didn't realized how much she missed it until now.

She manages, though, and is proud of herself when her voice comes out relatively normal. Not that he'd know the difference, apparently.

"Who says I'm here to interrogate you?"

He looks up again at that, expression unreadable. It's a first – his emotions are usually written on his face, and she can read him like an open book.

"Does it hurt?", she motions her head around the walls incrustated in Kryptonite, and tries to hid her worry.

"Why do you care?", and Lois tries not to flinch at the hardness in his voice.

"Well, I wouldn't have ask if I didn't, would I?"

He stares again, as if trying to asses her. Her heart sinks a bit when he doesn't trust her enough to answer.

"Why are you here?"

"To talk to you."

"What do you want?"

"I just told you. And slow down, here, Superman; I'm usually the one asking questions." She smiles at his confused frown – the same one he had whenever she would tell him about one of her improbable invetigations away, she can't help but notice. "I'm a reporter."

"Is that what this is? He wants to let the world to know he has me?"

Anger, coldness, mépris : Lois has never heard him like that. Bruce's words come rushing back to her, and she desperatly clings to them: "It's not him. Whoever you're going to see, remember it's not really Clark."

At this moment, she realizes how much she'd hope he was wrong - how much she'd hope that with her, he will be.

She closes her eyes for just a second, taking a shaky breath, before looking up at him. Fine, then. If he doesn't remember her, she'll just have to make him.

If he notices her small moment of weakness, he doesn't say anything.

"I'm not here to write anything." Lois hesitates for a second, but decides to opt for honesty: after all, he had been honest with her when they first properly met, that day in Smallville's cemetery, and every day ever since.

Maybe if she was with him, too, they had a chance.

"My name's Lois Lane. And although I'm not here to write about you, I'm a reporter at the Daily Planet – and so are you."

"Your friends already tried that, miss Lane", but she swears there's something in his eyes at her words. She doesn't know what it is, but he's trying to hide it, and that sends hope in every one of her cells, and gives her the courage to keep going.

"Well, it's true. As much as you'd like to think you're just Darkseid's killing machine, you're not – not at all."

"Are you - "

"I'm fine. I have to go."

When she comes back the next day after leaving the Planet, Bruce isn't there. Neither is Diana, or Barry - just Alfred.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lane."

"Hey. How is he?"

"He's good – well, physically, at least. The Kryptonite is still doing its work, but not so much that he's in danger." He looks away from the computers, and smiles at her. "To be honest, we didn't think you'll be back so soon."

She frowns. "Well, we need to bring him back as soon as we can; I can't do that if I show up once a week."

"Of course. But after yesterday, Master Wayne thought you'd need a little...time. Which would be understandable.

"I know", she whispers, trying not to give in to the trust he inspires and start babbling about how much harder than she thought it would be this actually is. "But he needs me – even if he doesn't know it yet." She looks down, catches herself playing with her ring again. And I need him, too, she doesn't say.

Alfred just smiles, his face showing the same sincere compassion she saw more than a year ago, when he offered his condoleances to her in Smallville, even though they had never met.

"Very well, then. Door unlocked: you can go, Miss Lane."

He's right where she left him the day before – not that he could go very far, but at least he can move around in the room, which she's grateful to Bruce for.

His face is more pale than she remembers, and an unpleasant feeling makes its way to the pit of her stomach. Being exposed to Kryptonite can't be good, as calculated as the doses have been, and she hates to see him like that.

She knows it's the only way, though. For what they know, being away from that universe destroyer, or whatever he is, is the only thing that has a chance to weaken his influence on him, and with the brainwash he's experiencing, force is the only way to keep him here.

All she hopes is that she can bring him back fast enough so he doesn't have to bear this much longer.

"Hey."

Her greeting isn't met with an answer - not that she expected any - and she sits, her body aline with his, but at the other side of the room. He looks up, and she smiles. Even if it's not really him per say yet, she can't help it: he's here, alive, and

Yesterday was harder than she'd imagined. The expectations she had that had been crushed, the overwhelming feeling of finally, finally seeing him again, only to discover it truly wasn't him – it was too much.

But she can't let any of that affect her. He needs her, and she's going to be here, just like he has always been for her – she's going to bring him back.

When they first told her he was back, Lois thought she'd have to fight to get to see him, with him being potentially dangerous to her, but for some reason, Bruce had actually come to get her exactly for that. He seemed and still seems confident that if something, someone could help Clark Kent, it would be her. She didn't know where the certainty behind his eyes came from: maybe he knew just how close they were, maybe there was something else.

She didn't care. All she cared about was that she was near him - even if right now, he didn't care much for it.

"Did any of them come to see you?" Again, no answer. Oh come on, Kent. "Cat got your tongue?"

It almost looks like he's pouting now, and Lois suddenly wants to laugh. She tries not to, but a small chuckle escapes her, and he glares at her.

She wants to tell him he looks cute, but she figures it may not be the best idea, if she really wants him to talk.

"Look Clark, whether you like it or not, I'm going to be here, okay? Everyday. So you might as well talk to me - it's not like you have better things to do, anyway."

He glares again, and she tries not to laugh again.

Clark really must be in here somewhere, because that day, he demonstrates the same kind of stubborness he occasionnaly did before, and doesn't speak a single word.

"Stubborn" is her middle name, though, and she doesn't let it discourage her: for two and a half hours, she fills in the conversation, talking to him about how her day went, how her current article is going, and how Perry almost made one of the board's member cry. At one point, she thinks he wishes to die just so he doesn't have to hear her anymore, but she goes on and on, only stopping when Diana comes to get her.

"See you tomorrow, Smallville."

He gives her the silent treatment for four days.

She's seen Clark pouts before, but never this long, and sometimes when she looks up, she still feels like laughing. She thinks he catches her, one day, and he looks at her suspiciously, eyesbrows furrowing.

Silence or not, she keeps talking anyway.

"Persistent, aren't you?"

"You have no idea. Well, actually you have: you just don't remember."

He rolls his eyes, and she smirks: in a week, he'd gone from anger to annoyment. That was progress.

"Right."

"I'm glad to see you're talking again, though", she says, taking her usual place in front of him. "I mean, I love giving you an exclusive look into that glorious life of mine, but my mouth does get dry."

"I didn't say I was willing to have a conversation, Miss Lane," and it's interesting to see that, even brainwashed, he still has the same politness/good maners that characterize him.

"Oh come on, admit it: you're getting bored of the all silence thing."

He glares, and she knows she's right.

"It's up to you. But as I said, I'm coming anyway, and I'm pretty sure the other ones aren't that enclin to chat with you – and vice versa."

"And you're different because?"

"I don't know – am I?"

Lois tries to keep appearing detached as he looks at her in the eyes, but she's holding her breath. She knows full well it's not going to be that easy, that he's not suddenly going to remember everything in the blink of an eye, but maybe, just maybe, there's something there.

He doesn't say anything, and Lois tries to pretend it's better than him telling her straight away that she isn't different in any way.

"If you don't want informations from me, what do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "Whatever you want."

"You want to make me remember, don't you? About Clark?"

Her heart skips a bit. "You remember your name?"

"You call me that sometimes," and the hope that had risen up in less than a second morphed into a painful ache just as quick. "That, or Smallville, for some reason." The fact that he doesn't tease her, which is what he usually does when she has her "disappointed reporter face", doesn't help. She settles back against the wall.

"Oh."

He brings one knee to his chest, ans rests his arm there.

"And what if I am?"

"What?"

"Trying to bring you back, I mean. Would that really be that terrible?", and he frowns. "Why are you listening to that Darkseid? Do you even know?"

"It's -" He looks even more confused, and she watches him struggle much as he did so many times before. "This is not my world," he finally says, irritated.

She doesn't want to pick a fight with him, and simply shrugs, even if inside, she's screaming that it is, and that he belongs here. Geetting a hold of her emotions, she smiles, focusing on the fact that she just hit a sensitive spot, and that it's probably because deep down, he knows something's not right.

"Well, you didn't always think that."

He looks up at that, and her lips quirks up a little more at the memory of nights of him telling her about his life, and at him. She missed those eyes so much.

She takes his silence as her queue to continue. "You didn't feel in your place, growing up; didn't feel like you fitted in. People in Smallville – where you grow up – kinda knew about your powers, and they were scared of you, and didn't have the best attitude about it."

She tries to manage her frown, a slight anger rising as it always did whenever she talked or heard about it. Clark had told him stories, so did Martha, and she still couldn't get over how people could be so mean to such a sweet and innocent boy.

"Anyway, at some point, your parents told you the truth," and there's a warm feeling in her stomach when she sees he's really listening. "That they found you on a spaceship in their field when you were just a newborn. That they didn't say anything to anybody, because they didn't want people to hurt you, do research on you."

She can see the thought of humans, that he had probably painted out as devils and ennemies, taking care of him disturbs him.

"So, after you graduated, you went to look: for your origins, your family. All the while keeping people around you safe – that's actually how I find you, after you saved my life, but that's an whole other story," she rolls her eyes, smiling a little at the memory of his gigantic frame appearing behind her in Smallville's cemetery. "You did find out, eventually: you were from Krypton, your parents sent you here to protect you. And you accepted that, as hard as it could be sometimes, but - "

She shrugs matter of factly, because there's not much else to do. "But you always considered this world as yours. I mean, you had doubts, but it was mostly because you were afraid to be rejected, because of the look of others, but in the end – You grew up here, Clark. That's all you've ever known, where all the people you love and that love you are. You're one of us, and if I'm being honest, you're the most human person I've ever met."

She's gone too far, she realises, and she has to look away. She hasn't meant to let herself get carried away, but -

"Anyway. The point is, you considered this to be your world." Considered me to be your world. "This is actually one of the last things you've said before you...before you died,", she admits quietly. Shock briefly registers on his face. She sees it, but pretends like she doesn't. "And you were right to, because it is."

They fall silent for a while, and she gets herself together. Again, it's not exactly easy, but this time, she doesn't want to let herself get overwhelmed and run for the door.

She's strong, always has been, and if there's a time to show it, it's now. For Clark.

So she just smiles at him, eyes shining with a few unshed tears she refuses to let fall, and keeps talking.

The next few days are pretty much the same, almost breakdown excluded. She tells him about what's happening out there, but most importantly, about the amazing and oh so loveable Clark Kent.

Now that she knows that he wouldn't take it as her trying to push him, and that he'd actually listen, she feels more free, and tells him about his chilhood, his parents, his work, his life. And he listens; she doesn't know if because he's genuiely intruged, because he's starting to feel and accept that the whole situation is strange or because he just wants to be nice because she got emotional, but he does.

He still acts, is painfully distant – but Clark listens.

Lois is pretty sure Perry is probably going to hire a private detective, at that point: everytime time she leaves at precisely 7pm and not a single minute – or a few hours - after, as usual, he looks more and more suspicious, his eyebrows getting closer to each other every day.

It's actually pretty funny, at one point, and she just waves at him and smiles, an all too innocent smile on her face just to piss him off as she gathers her things and leaves the Planet.

The situation is not ideal – pretty damn far from it, even.

She's reminded of that every time she passes by Alfred computers, tiredlessly looking for Darkseid, every time she walks in on one of Bruce and Diana's serious and worried conversations, every time Clark looks up at her when she walks in, and doesn't smile.

The situation is far from ideal, but she gets to see him every day again, alive and physically okay, and that's everything.

Turning the engine on, Lois takes a deep breath, and heads for the Wayne Manor.

Another few days pass. Alfred's still thoughtful, doing all he can to keep their prisoner as comfortable as he can with small attentions. Diana is always between two planes as she tracks Darkseid all over the world. Bruce sometimes goes with her, worry increasing by the day.

Lois' more focused and determined than she'd ever been – which, for her, is saying something.

They're making progress. There's nothing concrete, not necessarily a specific thing that makes her say that he's starting to remember, or that Darkseid grip on him is weakening, but she can feel it. It's in the way he talks to her, his body language, his eyes – he may not remember much, or anything, but he's more and more comfortable with her, and she doesn't intend on stopping here.

She has faith – they'll make it.

He looks blanky up at her, and Lois just raises her eyebrows at him. "It doesn't bite, you know."

With a roll of his eyes, he takes it, and she goes to sit in her spot, smiling.

"They told me you didn't want to eat anything," she starts as an explication, "and apparently you really don't need to, but you love those, so."

Frowning, he hesitates for a second, then nods at her. "Thanks."

She's so shocked she stops mid-movement to put her hair behind her ear. Fortunately, he's not looking, and she catches herself and closes her mouth just in time. "You're welcome."

"Did you make it?"

She snorts, and he frowns adorably. "God no. They're from the café next to our apartment: best brownies in town. I can't cook to save my life; I can't even make coffee. I tried once, and I swear, you almost cried."

"That bad, huh?"

"Oh yeah. Although to be honest, you're really picky when it comes to coffee."

He smiles a little and takes a bite, and she rests her head on the wall behind her, butterflies wild in her stomach as she watches him.

"Wow...Looks like you finally did it, Smallville."

"Did what?"

"Smile. Not that I'm complaining."

He looks at her, and she feels the familiar urge to go touch him. She settles for smiling, too.

"Yeah, well, this is really good," and she doesn't know if he's joking or not. He seems to hesitate, then looks up at her again. "And you're more friendly than the others. Although the older man is quiet polite with me."

She laughs at that. "Yeah, apart from Alfred, they're not exactly the social type. But they're actually not that bad – they just don't know how to talk to you, I guess."

"So that's why they send you here? To do the dirty work and talk to the alien so they're sure he doesn't go insane?" His words seem harsh, but oddly, there's no bitterness in his tone, no resentment.

Another little thing she can hold on to.

"First of all, nobody's making me do anything: I'm here because I want to be. And I guess that I'm the one who knows you best, except maybe your mother, so there's no need for them to come. Especially since you don't necessarily look like you want them to", she smirks.

"Black metal slash leather is always sulking."

"You're one to talk," she teases, chuckling, making a mental note to write down this nickname. She thinks he starts pouting, but he gets over it.

"In my defense, it's not exactly fun being dragged down against your will to what can only be described as a Batcave."

She chuckles. "True. And between you and me, I think this is actually what he calls it," and Clark smiles again. A mocking, amused smirk. God, how she missed that.

"This is really good, by the way", he gestures towards his brownie. "Thanks again."

"Sure."

"So: what else did I like?"

For the second time that day, Lois is so surprised it's a good thing she's already sitting down. She knows they're doing better, but him actually asking about his life...She feels a wide smile grow on her face despite herself, and she tries to tone it down.

She's pretty sure she fails. He smiles softly, too, and her heart is pounding so hard in her chest it would be embarassing if she cared at all.

But, right now, she only cares about the handsome man in front of her, and this familiar, beautiful smile that she finally get to see again.

"Well, let's see...You liked football – like, a lot", she rolls her eyes playfully. "Your farm in Smallville, Plato, and reading in general. Flying." She hesitates, as always when approching that particular topic. "Taking me flying. Your dog, of course. Beer, especially Guinness. To collapse on the couch on Fridays, like, literally head first. Oh, and you don't have to wear the glasses on weekends or at home, and you love that. Like you're not hidding or anything because, well, you're not."

"Glasses?"

"Yeah, you wear them when you're in public or at work so people won't recognize you."

"And this actually works?"

"I know, right? It's unbelievable."

She chuckles, crossing her legs in front of her. They're silent for a few seconds, and when she looks back up he's looking at her.

"We seem really close."

This time, she's the one who's not ready to get into this.

And even if she were, what could she tell him? That yes, they were, that neither of them had ever been this close to anyone before? That's she's never loved anyone this much before? That he's her entire life, and that it hurts a little more each day she doesn't wake up next to him?

He's not ready for that, and she neither is she. So, Lois just ignores the lump in her throat and tries to smile, shoulders going up to let him know it's true.

"Was I annoying?"

"What?"

"From what I understand, we lived together, right? There must have been things that I did that annoyed you."

She chuckles at that, and when he smiles a little, she wonders if he asked that on purpose to make her feel better.

"You were alright", Lois smiles. "I mean, you did leave your cape everywhere, and seemed to think the place for dirty clothes was the freaking floor, but you did all the cooking, so."

"It looked like I didn't have much choice," he teases, and she's so glad she has trouble putting up a convincing glare.

"You didn't, no. But in my defense, you were amazing at it."

"Was I?"

"Oh yeah - your mother taught you very well, trust me."

His face suddenly falls a little, and she's terrified she just said something wrong, and that he's going to close up again. He doesn't, though; instead, he looks shy, almost hesitant to speak. "About her...I was wondering: could you tell me a bit more about them? Her and my father, I mean."

"Yeah," she manages, and a smalll smile makes her way on her face. "Yeah, of course. Well...As I said, they were very protective, and you were very close to them. I uh – I brought a picture, actually. I had it for some time now," she adds at his surprised look. "I was just waiting for you to bring it up - I didn't want to push you."

For the first time since their meeting in that Canadian cold cave, she's slightly afraid of him as she gets up. It only last for a second, though.

It's Clark. Whatever hold that Darseid has on him, he's still Clark – and Clark would rather die than hurt her.

The few seconds he takes to reach up and take the picture from her feels like an eternity, and she smiles inwardly when he finally does. She wants to sit next to him, or at least, not back away.

She hasn't been this close to him for months, and her entire body is reacting, from her racing betraying heart to the goosebumbs rising on her arms.

She doesn't want to push him, though, and walks backwards towards her wall. One step at a time.

She watches him stare. "His name's Jonathan, and hers is Martha – Kent. And uh, that's your family dog, Rudd", her words rush as her fingers unconscously play with her jacket. Nervous, all of the sudden. "You adored him, from what I've been told; he was your best friend. And that's you, in the middle - obvisouly: Clark Kent, six year-old."

For a moment, she thinks he has forgotten she's here.

She doesn't want to say this, because back then, everytime they talked about Jonathan Kent, he had his look on his face/ sadness, guilt, regret - a look she's never really been able to make go away. But he needs to know, and Lois knows that.

"Your mom's still in Kansas, but your dad died when you were twenty-two."

His eyes don't leave the picture. She can't see his hold on the picture getting a little harder, but apart from that, he simply nods, more to himself than to her. For a second, Lois feels like she ust confirmed something he already knew, and hoped wasn't true.

She doesn't have time to ask him about it, though, because he shakes himself, and looks back at her. He's not angry, or at least she doesn't think so, but one look at him lets her know the subject is closed for now.

"Actually, I changed my mind. Can we talk about something else?"

She's a little surprised he doesn't tear the photograph apart, or yell, or simply tells her to leave. Instead, he just puts the picture next to him and actually presses her for another subject.

She feels more hope and relief she had for a very, very long time.

"Of course. Something in particular?"

He shrugs, and the more casual movments like this he makes, the more human he looks – human, what he's always been, and not some anger driven monster that Darkseid wants him to be.

"I don't know – what about you?"

It takes her two seconds longer than it should to answer, and when she does, it's high pitched and ridiculous."Me?"

"Yes, you." She thinks she sees the ghost of an amused smirk, but it's more likely her imagination.

"Okay...Well, I'm a reporter, but I've already said that. I mostly do investigations on subjects that I want to investigate, even when our redactor doesn't, which drives him mad – although to be honest, he does publish it everytime, so I don't see why he always whines. I mean, you should have seen the scene he made when I wanted to wrote about the favelas in Rio: I love him, but he looked like a five year-old throwing a tantrum", and she looks back at him in surprise when he chuckles.

He's laughing, actually laughing, and once the shock has passed, she feels like crying from joy.

Of course, that's the moment Bruce chooses to knock on the door.

When he enters, a slight shock registers at the sight he walks onto, and it makes her want to laugh even more.

"You okay, Lois?"

"Yeah. What's going on?"

"We need you."

She looks back at Clark, and her heart sinks a bit when she sees his face is back to normal – closed, distant. He briefly meets her eyes, though, and that makes it better.

Reluctantly, she stands. "Alright. Bye, Clark."

She's already at the door when he speaks. "Bye."

"Was that a smile I saw on his face?"

She tries to hold back her own. "I think so."

As they make their way towards Alfred, Bruce looks at her expectantly, silently pushing her to continue.

"I don't know, he – I think he trusts me again. And I don't really know for sure if he actually remember something from his life, but I know he's there, and I know he's not far. Sometimes, it's just in the way he talks, or the way he acts." She knows it doesn't sound like much, but that's more than she could ever had hoped for, and she'll take it. "He doesn't remember, but when I talked about his parents, and I showed them to him, he looked like ...like he was getting confirmation of something he already suspected."

She rests her back againt the hard metal, back to the water in the center of the cave, and shrugs.

"Like he knew this was familiar, but he was trying to remember in what way. And he's not grumpy anymore, which is good," she tries to joke to lighten the mood.

"That's a very good sign", says a deep, soothing voice, and Lois looks to her left to see Diana emerge from the elevator, a gentle smile on her features. "You're doing well. Which is a good thing, because it looks like we won't be able to kill this thing without Superman."

"You won't?"

Given the nature and the terrifying look of that creature, it doesn't really comes as a surprise. Still, it makes her panic a little.

"No," Bruce sighs, eyes dark. "It's just too powerful."

"In this case, isn't he going to try and find Clark? In fact, why isn't he even here yet? It's not like he's not able to find him: he freaking mind controls him."

"Maybe he's not. Otherwise, I don't see why he wouldn't be here. We know he's limited, although we don't know exactly how, otherwise he could have achieved his goal without Clark. Maybe he doesn't have that much power, at least not over a Kriptonians," the Amazon princess reasons.

Alfred nods. "I agree. He seems to need contact, or at least closeness, to properly operates: the fact that we deny him that by keeping Clark here combined with the fact that Clark is still in here, somewhere...that gives us a chance. A real one."

He looks at Lois, and she can't help but smile at him, hope building inside her. Maybe he's right – as impossible as it seems, maybe they're not that helpless, even in front of that alien murderer.

"Maybe,'Bruce says, not as optemistic. "But we won't be able to keep Clark hidden from him much longer. I think the only reason he's not coming to get him and left Earth alone all together is that somthing's keeping him busy putting his big picture plan elsewhere – we're running on luck here, and I don't intend on finding out when we'll run out of it. We need to get ready in way we can, and you, to bring him back."

Not for the first time, Lois is reminded of how much depends on her: it's not only Clark, it's the entire world. She feels it again at the thought, that burden that's settling in her stomach, the one she feels every night when she closes her eyes and thinks of him, the one that won't leave no matter what.

She refuses to let it show, though. She's never backed away when she was needed, and she sure as hell isn't going to start now.

The three of them look at her, and she's glad to see that they seem to trust she can make it, too. " You will - trust me."

She knows she will, because she refuses any of the scenarios in which she can't, and that motivates her more than anything ever could. Still, the confidence that Bruce shows in her once again is so strong that this time, she feels the need to ask him how he can be so sure.

The computers beep, though, and suddenly, there's something more important to take her of. Nodding to Alfred, he turns towards the Batmobile, Diana already on his heels.

"Looks like we're heading East."

Taking a deep breath, Lois watches them leave.