Archive of Our Own

“But you were something more than young and sweet / And fair, – and the long year remembers you.” - Edna St. Vincent Millay

The thief hadn’t known what it was he had, Clark thought, as he handed the burglar over to the police. Luckily, it seemed he had simply been trying to snag anything he thought was valuable, rather than having been hired for a specific job. Unfortunately for him, he’d chosen an item that Wonder Woman has been searching for.

He joined Diana on the rooftop she had retreated to and watched as she absently hooked the Lasso of Hestia back on her belt, her attention already focused on the ring in her palm.

“That’s it?” he asked.

She hummed an affirmative and nodded, rolling it between her fingers as she examined it. “You can tell by the faint light emanating from the stone.” She cupped her hands around the ring to shade it, then held them up for him to peek at it. “See?”

Clark took note of the subtle glow with mild interest, though his mind had now turned to more practical matters. “What are you going to do with it?”

Two lines appeared between her eyebrows. “I have a lockbox in Switzerland where it will be safe for the short term. However -”

“Why don’t I save you the time and effort, and take it off your hands right now, my dear niece?”

Clark wasn’t an easy man to startle, but the being standing across from them had managed to do the job. Diana simply smiled.

“I thought you would come to claim it eventually, Uncle. I simply didn’t realize it would be so soon.”

“What is it the humans say?” asked the being as he sauntered towards them, apparently without a care in the world. He reminded Clark of every sleazy-used-car-salesman stereotype he could think of. “No time like the present?”

Diana tilted her head. “Makes one wonder why you didn’t come for it sooner, given that it was stolen from you three thousand years ago. Clark, this is my uncle, Hades. The ring belongs to him. Uncle, this is Clark.”

Hades gave Clark an appraising glance, then apparently dismissed him as he turned back to Diana and shrugged. “Time moves differently in the Underworld, my dear, you know that. It was never in such danger of being used until now. And your aunt doesn’t particularly care for it.”

Diana held out the ring, and Hades took it from her. He held it up to examine it in the dim streetlights that managed to make it to the top of the building they were standing on. “Indeed, it would have been far easier for everyone if this little trinket had just stayed buried,” he mused.

“Then bury it in the Underworld,” Diana told him. “It is too powerful a thing for the World of Men, who will always be tempted by it. You know this.”

Hades sighed, but gave her a fond look. “You speak the truth, my dear niece, and I am grateful for your assistance in this matter. I am aware it was inconvenient for you. I’ll be sure to send a token of my appreciation your way.”

“That will not be necessary, Uncle,” Diana said, and Clark thought he could hear a note of slight alarm in her voice.

“Nonsense! It will be perfectly appropriate, I assure you. I’m certain your aunt will have an idea of what a young lady like you would like. In the meantime, I had best get this little troublemaker back home. Until we meet again!” And without allowing Diana to get another word in, he disappeared.

Diana exhaled loudly. “I apologize for him, Clark. My relatives are not known for their manners.”

Clark gave a small laugh. “Don’t worry about it. I think we all have relatives who could do with better manners. Any ideas what he might give to you?”

Diana shook her head, lips pursed. “Hades is not known for his reliability. He is just as likely to forget that he said he would send me something as he is to actually do it. That will likely be the safer option. Anything he is likely to send would be dangerous to have in this world.”

“Surely he could give you something that you would actually want?”

Diana gave a bittersweet smile and a distant look came to her eyes. “The only thing I would want from Hades is something he would not be willing to part with. And even if he were, the rational part of me does not think he should.” She heaved a sigh that seemed designed to shake off her melancholy. “I should stay here for a while. If Hades does send a gift, it will show up here, where he last saw me. He has difficulty tracking people in the World of Men – at least when they are not carrying jewelry crafted in the Underworld,” she added with a slight smile.

She was clearly trying to change the subject, so Clark decided not to push. “I’ll wait with you.”

She shook her head. “There is no need. Go home to Lois. Perhaps the three of us could meet for brunch in the morning, though, before I leave for Paris?”

He smiled. “Lois would like that. I’ll go, but I’ll keep an ear out. If you need me -”

“Then I will call you on your cell phone like a civilized person,” she told him with a grin. “Even a gift from the Underworld will not be so exciting that I would have to scream the buildings down.” She stepped forward to hug him farewell. “I was glad to have you with me tonight, Clark, even though it turned out to be a simple mission.”

“It’s always good to have back-up,” Clark agreed. “Even if it’s just for the company. I’ll see you in the morning.”

At brunch the next morning, Diana reported no mysterious gifts from Hades, and flew back to Paris. Clark swung by the rooftop during the next few nights, just to make sure nothing popped up, but nothing did, and he eventually stopped watching it so closely.

Lois had lost a bet.

Someday, she fumed, that would be the start of a funny story. Today, however, it was merely irritating.

The result of said lost bet meant that she was here, at the Metropolis Memorial Library, doing a puff piece on library programming, instead of covering the mayoral debate.

The worst part was that she probably could have convinced Clark to cover this piece instead, but then she’d gone and made a bet with Perry about the outcome of last night’s baseball game, and she had lost. Her punishment was to not pawn the puff piece off on Clark. She couldn’t actually remember the last time she’d done a puff piece.

So Clark was at the mayoral debate, and she was at the library, interviewing a teenager about his part-time job teaching the elderly how to use computers.

“Mostly they just want a Facebook account so they can see pictures of their grandkids,” the teenager said, looking slightly pained.

“Tell me about one of your more unique interactions,” Lois replied, trying her damnedest to sound interested and engaged.

“Well, there’s Steve,” said the kid.

“Steve?”

“Yeah. He’s pretty unique, if only because he’s like, fifty years younger than anyone else who comes in looking for help. And he was kind of interested in social media, but more like, as a concept. He didn’t want to join anything, just kind of wanted to browse around. Wanted to learn how to Google.” The kid shook his head. “I think he must have escaped a cult or something. There’s no way someone his age doesn’t know anything about computers if they’re, you know, normal. He’s smart, though,” the kid said quickly. “I only ever have to show him something once, and he’s got it.”

“He sounds fascinating,” Lois said. It was true; a possible cult escapee was the most interesting thing she’d heard all day.

The kid’s face brightened. “Do you want to meet him? I think he’s here. He’s a regular.”

“Lead the way,” Lois said.

She followed the kid to a quiet corner near the back of the library. “Steve!” the kid called as they approached the lone man sitting in an armchair, poking at a tablet. “This is Ms. Lane, she’s a reporter, she’s doing piece on the library.”

Steve looked up, and Lois was startled by the blue of his gaze. “Lois Lane,” she introduced herself, holding out a hand.

He shook her hand without hesitation, and with a good grip – firm but not challenging. “Steve Trevor,” he replied with a welcoming smile.

Lois cast her gaze over him. He was wearing a white t-shirt tucked into slacks that were too high-waisted and too loose to be fashionable. A winter coat with a wide wool collar was thrown over the arm of the chair even though it was August, and a reusable shopping bag full of more clothes was at his feet. His belt and boots appeared to be leather, though slightly scuffed. He was clean, but slightly scruffy – he needed a shave, and it was clear this was not his first day in those clothes.

He was handsome, though, and he smiled the smile of a man used to getting his way by being charming.

“Zach was telling me you’re one of his regulars,” Lois said, taking the chair next to him. “Do you mind telling me how you’ve found the programs that the library has to offer?”

“I’ve no interest in being on the record, Ms. Lane,” Steve replied, kind but firm.

Lois’s focus sharpened. This was the most interesting thing to happen all day – it was eerily similar to Clark’s response when she had first offered to tell his story. Lois snapped her notebook shut and tucked it in her purse, then turned to the kid. “I’m sure Mr. Trevor and I can get along for a few minutes if you need to take care of anything,” she told him.

Luckily, the kid was bright enough to take the hint and left them alone.

“He thinks you’ve escaped a cult,” she told Steve.

He gave a surprised laugh. “Does he?” he asked, amused.

Lois waited, but he did not elaborate.

“Did you?” she prompted.

“Does it matter?” Steve responded.

“Call it an idle curiosity.”

“Oh, I make a point of never indulging those,” he teased with one of those charismatic smiles.

“It’s very unusual to meet someone who doesn’t have any computer skills,” she pressed.

He raised a brow. “I’m pretty sure Zach’s entire job revolves around helping people with no computer skills.”

“Anyone under the age of eighty,” she amended.

His smile turned into a smirk. “Surely it’s not that unusual?”

“I can think of a few possibilities,” Lois admitted, “but none of them would explain why you’re so reluctant to tell me.”

“Can’t a man value his privacy?”

“We’re off the record.”

“And that counts as privacy?”

“There’s no one else here.”

He leaned closer, confidentially. “Ms. Lane?”

She leaned in as well. “Yes?”

“I’m going to have to respectfully ask you to leave this alone.”

Lois sat back with a frustrated frown, but nodded, albeit not entirely graciously. He’d already asked not to be part of her story, after all. This line of questioning was for no other reason than to satisfy her own curiosity, and this man did not owe her any explanations. “Right,” she said. “My apologies, Mr. Trevor.”

He smiled and leaned back as well. “I’m not offended, Ms. Lane, I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know I sometimes push too hard,” she admitted. “My fiance says I’m like a terrier with a rat.”

Steve laughed. “That’s a colourful turn of phrase.”

She shrugged and smiled. “He’s a reporter too.”

“Sounds like a match made in paradise.” His eyes took on a faraway look.

Lois’s own gaze sharpened again. “Not heaven?”

He refocused on her. “I suppose that depends on what gods you believe in.”

She stared at him for a long moment, trying to figure out what the significance of that statement was. It felt like she’d just been handed a clue to understanding him, but she had no idea how to parse it. As she was trying to figure out how to respond with a light enough touch that he didn’t shut down again, footsteps sounded in the stacks before them.

Steve looked at the newcomer and smiled in welcome. “Hello, Rita.”

“Hello, dear,” the librarian replied. She handed him a pastry. “Lauren brought snacks for the meeting today, and we had leftovers. Thought you might like one.”

His face lit up. “Thanks,” he responded.

Rita turned to Lois. “I hope you’ve gotten what you need for your story, Ms. Lane,” she said. “We’re closing in fifteen minutes, and the staff are starting to go home.”

“I did, and thank you again for your time and attention,” Lois replied. “I know entertaining me on top of your other duties must have been a burden.”

Rita brushed her off with a pleased smile. “Not at all, Ms. Lane. I’m sure the publicity from the article will help us get the funds we need to continue helping the community.” She turned back to Steve. “Stay safe, dear. I do worry about you.”

Steve gave her an indulgent look. “I’ll be fine.”

She frowned at him. “Even if you don’t get mugged, you’ll put your back out, sleeping on that bench all the time.”

“I’ve slept in worse places, Rita.”

“So you’ve said, dear, but I’d still be happier if you would at least go to the shelter.”

“Can’t wear my welcome out there before the cold weather hits,” Steve replied lightly.

Rita sighed. “I just wish I had room for you at my place.”

Steve waved her off. “Don’t worry about it.” He gestured with the pastry. “I do appreciate this, though.”

She patted his shoulder in a motherly fashion. “You’re welcome, dear. Now I hate to kick you out, but we do have to close up.”

He stood and handed the tablet to her, then picked up his coat and his bag. “Of course. Do what you need to, Rita, I’ll see Ms. Lane out.” He turned and offered a hand to Lois. She took it and rose to her feet beside him, the corner of her lips quirking at the old-fashioned manners.

Rita took her leave of them and moved away. Steve gestured at Lois to precede him though the stacks towards the front door. “Shall we?”

Once outside, Lois turned to look at him again. Even though she’d told him she’d drop it, she was still intrigued by him, and wasn’t quite ready to end their conversation just yet. And knowing he was homeless and didn’t have any food security made the decision easy.

“Well, Ms. Lane,” he began.

“Would you like to come to my place for dinner?” she blurted out. “My fiance’s making tomato bisque, and he always makes way too much. You’d be doing us a favour, really.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Just as she was beginning to think he would refuse, he smiled and said, “I’d like that. Thank you, Ms. Lane.”

“Lois,” she corrected him, pulling out her phone to fire off a quick text to Clark – bringing a new friend home for dinner.

“Steve,” he offered in return, and together they set off in the direction of her car.

Clark had just put the garlic bread in the oven when Lois arrived home, her guest in tow.

He hadn’t known what to make of her brief text. Her guest was clearly someone he didn’t know, or she would have identified him by name; she also hadn’t called him a source. She wasn’t in the habit of bringing strangers home for dinner, so Clark was curious about what made this man so special, especially since the last stranger she had taken a chance on had been him.

At first glance, there was nothing particularly special about the man. He was six feet tall and a bit more slender than he ought to be, but he still carried some muscle. He wasn’t tense, but he wasn’t entirely relaxed, either – He’s ready, Clark thought, though he had no idea what the man was ready for. He looked around with interest, eyes going first to Clark’s hands, then to the windows and doors, then to Clark himself, whom he shot a practiced, lop-sided grin while he waited for Lois to make the introductions.

She dropped her keys and her purse, then stepped forward to kiss him. “Hey,” she said softly, then turned to gesture at her guest. “This is Steve Trevor. Steve, my fiance, Clark Kent.”

Steve stepped forward and held out his hand. Clark shook it; he had a pleasant grip. “Pleasure. Hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all,” Clark replied. “Hope you like tomato bisque.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever had it before,” Steve admitted. “But I’m not fussy, especially if it’s hot. And I can pretty much guarantee you that I’ve eaten worse.”

Clark chuckled. “Well, it will be hot, and it’s my mom’s recipe, so it should be tasty enough, too.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “My mom had a chicken soup recipe that was to die for.”

“You know, my mom was never a fan of chicken soup,” said Clark. “So I might have to get that one from you.”

Lois had set the table while they were talking. “Beer, Steve?” she asked.

“Just water, actually, please,” he responded.

The timer on the oven went off, and Clark turned to pull the garlic bread out, barely remembering to use an oven mitt in front of their guest, while Lois directed Steve to sit. “Anything I can do?” he asked.

“It’s all done,” Clark assured him, sliding the garlic bread onto a plate and placing it in the center of the table while Lois began to dish up the bisque. She put the first bowl in from of Steve, but he didn’t touch it until they had their own servings and were sat at the table with him.

“So what brought you to Metropolis?” Clark asked Steve after they had all taken a few bites.

“Just kind of landed here,” Steve replied with a vague shrug. “Gotta say, though, it doesn’t top my list of favourite places.”

“Yeah, it’s not for everyone,” Lois quipped.

Steve twitched and gave a hard blink, and his heart rate jolted.

“What places do make your list?” Clark asked, watching him carefully out of the corner of his eye.

“I always enjoyed London, though that’s another place that’s not for everyone,” Steve replied, his smile softening and eyes going distant. He was clearly remembering something. “And I think I would have liked the rest of Europe too, though I was mostly there for work.”

“Which can make it less fun,” Lois agreed. “And you don’t always get to see the highlights.”

“What do you do?” Clark asked.

“I’m a pilot,” Steve replied. “Well, I was a pilot. Though I think that’s one of those things you always are, regardless of whether or not you’re being paid.”

Clark understood exactly. “Commercial?” he asked.

Steve shook his head. “Military.”

Lois went still at Clark’s side. “Afghanistan?” Clark asked lightly.

There was a slight hesitation before Steve’s response, and his heart rate picked up slightly. “Iraq.” His tone did not invite further questions.

Lois glanced at Clark. He didn’t think much good would come from pushing Steve further, so he adjusted his glasses – their private signal to try another angle.

“What did you like about London?” Lois asked instead, taking a spoonful of bisque.

“Aside from being the place I spent most of my leave? I like the history of it. You can feel it in the air. There’s so much to see, so many things to explore.”

“That’s what I like about Paris,” Lois said with a smile.

“And Barcelona,” Clark added.

“And I had friends there,” Steve finished. “Made it feel like home. Now, Paris I’ve been to, though I didn’t get to see as much of it as I wanted. Never made it to Spain, though.”

They continued to discuss the finer points of the cities they had been to; Steve had a high opinion of Edinburgh, while Clark extolled the virtues of Reykjavik and Lois put in a good word for Vancouver, at which point Clark argued if any Canadian city was going to make the list, it should be St. John’s, which had more character.

Finishing dinner, the three of them tidied the dishes away and moved to the living room while continuing the discussion. Steve admitted to his ignorance of most places outside Europe, which prompted Clark to start describing Rio de Janeiro. They all agreed on the merits of New York, though, and Clark and Lois both emphatically recommended Cape Town, but disagreed again on the charms of Sydney before talking over each other in their excitement about Auckland.

By the time the conversation wound down, it was nearly midnight.

“Shit,” Steve muttered under his breath when he realized the time. “Someone will have stolen my spot.”

“On the park bench?” Lois asked lightly, with a mild dig of her elbow into Clark’s ribs.

Steve gave her a mock glare. “I’ll have you know that bench is prime real estate.”

“You may as well crash here for the night,” Clark suggested as Lois clearly wanted him to. “We have a spare bedroom. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

Steve hesitated, refusal evident in his eyes, but then he said, “As long as you’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition.”

“Not at all!” Lois said brightly. “I’ll fetch you some sheets.”

She moved away down the hall, and Steve turned to Clark. “Would it be alright if I took a shower as well?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” Clark replied. “The bathroom’s right next to the spare room, and the towels are under the sink. Help yourself.”

He settled back into the couch to wait while Lois showed Steve to the guest room and bathroom. She made a detour to the kitchen on her way back and poured a glass of wine for herself and Clark. By the time she made it back to Clark’s side, the shower had turned on.

“So,” Clark said. “What’s the story here?”

“No story,” Lois replied. “He was very insistent on being kept off the record, actually.”

“But?”

“But there’s something about him. It first sparked my interest because he apparently knew absolutely nothing about computers when he first started going to the library, but it’s more than that. He phrased things oddly a couple times in our conversation, and he is really very secretive about why he knew nothing about computers, but it’s nothing that should have me feeling this strongly that there’s something more to him, you know?”

“He was lying about being in Iraq,” Clark told her. “Or it might have been a minor PTSD response.”

“Heart rate?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” She sipped her wine. “Maybe I’ll contact Miriam in the morning.”

Clark looked at her. “I thought you said this wasn’t a story.”

“It’s not.” Lois sighed and rested her glass against her forehead. “I know I should drop it, leave the poor man in peace. Clearly there’s something he doesn’t want to tell us, and that’s fine. Everyone is entitled to their secrets, as long as those secrets aren’t hurting anyone. I know that. I just . . . can’t let it go.”

Clark watched her, sipping his own wine. “Okay. Call Miriam, see what she can find. Maybe he was in Iraq, and maybe something in his military file will help you put this to rest.”

“And if he wasn’t, and it doesn’t?”

“See what Miriam has to say first. We’ll make a decision when we have more information.”

Lois kissed him. “Have I thanked you lately for your willingness to indulge my whims?”

Clark smiled and stood, taking her empty wine glass from her, and moved to drop both glasses in the kitchen. “Not lately.”

“I’ll have to rectify that,” she purred, following him. “In our bedroom.”

Clark put on his best shocked affectation. “Lois! We have a guest!”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to be quiet,” she retorted as she began sauntering down the hallway.

“It wasn’t me I was concerned about,” Clark called after her, then followed her laughter to bed.

Lois woke up to Clark’s lips on her cheek, whispering her name.

She groaned and buried her face back into the pillow. “It’s still dark.”

“I have to go.”

She cracked an eye open at him. He was leaning over the bed, dressed in his Superman suit. “What is it?”

“The forest fire in British Columbia is getting worse. Diana’s in Victoria for a conference; we’re going to head up to help for a few hours, give the firefighters some respite and see if we can’t get it back down to a manageable level for them.”

Lois hummed her understanding. “I’ll make your excuses.”

“I’m going to try to make it home by dinner time.”

She hummed again, already falling back asleep.

She woke again at 7:00am, her usual time, and got up to start her day. After showering, she went to the kitchen where Clark had helpfully programmed their coffee maker to start just before she had gotten up, so a fresh pot was waiting for her.

The door to the guest room was still closed. Lois took this to mean that Steve was still there, and still asleep. God knew the poor man looked like he needed several hours of good sleep. His bags were gone from the entryway, but he may have taken them into the room with him. Perhaps there were things in them that he needed, or that he liked to keep close.

Whether Steve was there or not wasn’t going to stop her from contacting Miriam. She shot a quick email to Perry, stating that Clark wasn’t feeling well, and that she was going to work from home in order to keep an eye on him.

She turned the TV on to a Canadian news channel that was covering the forest fire in British Columbia, where Superman and Wonder Woman had shown up early that morning, but muted it. Then, she called Miriam, her source at Veterans Affairs, before the other woman had a chance to get too involved in her work day.

Miriam picked up on the first ring. “Lois! Long time.”

“I know I’m terrible at keeping in touch, Miriam.”

Miriam laughed. “You are that. What can I do for you?”

Lois hesitated briefly, then said, “I’ve met a homeless vet. I was wondering if you could give me some information on him, maybe get him set up to receive his benefits.”

“You have his serial number?”

“No, just a name. Steve Trevor.”

Lois could hear the clicking of Miram’s keyboard through the phone. Several long moments passed, then Miriam asked, “Steve Trevor, you said?”

“Yes.”

“The only result I can find for that name is a guy who died in World War I. I have three results for living vets with the last name Trevor, but none of them have given or middle names similar to Steve.”

Lois frowned. “He said he was a pilot in Iraq. Does that help?”

“Only one of these guys was deployed to Iraq; none are pilots. Unless you have a serial number, I’m not going to be able to help you, I don’t think.”

Lois thought quickly. “Can you give me any information on the dead one?”

“Sure thing,” Miriam said. “A hundred years on, his file should be public. Full name is Steven Rockwell Trevor. He actually was a pilot, American Expeditionary Forces on loan to British Intelligence.”

“A spy?”

Miriam made a noise of assent. “Actually, a lot of his file is still classified, Lois. Especially towards the end of his life. It’s kind of odd, given how long ago this was. Most things from that time have been declassified.”

“What can you tell me?”

“Born April 26, 1883. Died in the early hours of November 11, 1918, age 35.”

“Poor guy.”

“Yeah,” Miriam agreed with feeling. “Rank of captain. He petitioned the American military to loan him out to the British when the First World War broke out in 1914, which they did. He worked as a pilot for two years, mapping the battlefields, before joining British Intelligence. He was involved in several successful intelligence missions, the last one being an infiltration of an Axis stronghold in the Ottoman Empire at the beginning of November 1918 from which he brought back information about their chemical weapons. From there it seems he was involved in a mad dash across No Man’s Land that the troops somehow survived, which then resulted in the miraculous liberation of a Belgian village called Veld on the ninth of November. His unit moved on the next day, and he sneaked into a gala held at Axis High Command. His movements from there are vague, but he ended up hijacking an Axis plane filled with poison gas. It’s unclear if the gas somehow became unstable, or if he intentionally set it off, but the plane exploded high enough from the ground to prevent any casualties, besides himself. The men under his command thought he blew up the plane on purpose.”

Lois swore in mingled sympathy and horror.

“From the point of his return from the Ottoman Empire,” Miriam continued, “there is a significant amount of redaction on his file. It doesn’t seem to be about his actions or movements, though; I think it’s about an individual, maybe someone under his command? It’s hard to tell, I can’t get a notion of their rank. Apparently this person was the one who initiated the storming of No Man’s Land, and was instrumental in the liberation of Veld. They were also around at the time of his death, apparently involved in a battle on the ground. They provided an account of his death, along with three other men, but their name is always redacted.”

Lois gnawed on her lower lip. “I wonder who that could be?”

“Does it matter? Lois, this can’t be your guy.”

“No. But the parallels are interesting. This is the only one with a similar name who is also a pilot.”

“Lois.”

“I’m not saying it’s the same guy, Miriam. But perhaps he’s invested in this guy? Adopted his name and backstory for some reason?”

“You mean like a split personality.”

“Maybe. Maybe nothing so dramatic. I’ll have to talk to him more.” She paused, then said, “I really appreciate your help, Miriam. So do you mind if I call you back if I need any more detail?”

“Of course not.”

“Thanks again. I owe you one.”

Lois spent the next couple hours searching the internet for references of Steve Trevor, but found little more than Miriam had told her, even with the access her journalist’s credentials gave her. She found one article with a photo; she studied it fervently, and while it did look like Steve, it was too grainy to tell for certain. She was just about to call Miriam back to ask if the file had another photo when Steve came out of the guest room.

“Good morning,” she greeted him.

“Hi,” he said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Sorry I slept so long.”

She smiled. “Not a problem. I’m sure you needed it.”

He nodded. “That I did. Don’t think I realized how tired I was until I had a decent bed to sleep in.”

“Glad to help.” She paused. “Look, Steve, I was wondering . . .”

His shoulders tensed. He looked away from her, toward the TV, which was still covering the wildfires, and which she still had on mute.

“Have you contacted Veterans Affairs? Do you have access to your military pension? They can help you with that, or find a doctor if you need one, or help you find a place to live, or a job, or go back to school, whatever you’d like, really.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said distractedly. “What’s this?” He nodded at the TV.

Lois looked at it. The camera was lingering on Diana as she rescued a bear cub from the fire. “Superman and Wonder Woman are helping out with the forest fire on the west coast of Canada,” she said casually. “Superman is based in Metropolis, so we as journalists like to keep up with his exploits around the world.”

“Wonder Woman,” he murmured, seemingly to himself.

The camera cut away from Diana to Clark, using his super breath to hold back the fire. Lois let her own gaze linger, then looked back at Steve, who was frowning at the TV.

“Steve?” she prodded again. “Think about the VA? I have a contact who can help you, if you like.”

“I will,” he said. “Look, Lois, I need to go out today. Do you mind if I meet up with you later?”

“You can come back here for the night again,” Lois offered.

He finally looked at her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said firmly.

He nodded. “Okay, thanks. I’ll see you later then.” With that, he rushed out the door.

Lois stared after him, then picked up her phone to call Miriam again, when it rang in her hand.

It was Perry.

“Lane! Have you seen the news? Get down to the Senator’s office! If we don’t have the scoop on this mistress scandal for the evening edition, I’m blaming you! I don’t care if Kent is sick, he can fend for himself for a few hours!”

Lois sighed and heaved herself off the sofa. She’d have to catch Miriam again at another time.

“How have you been, Diana?” Clark asked once the fire was, if not completely under control, stable enough that the firefighters could take over again, and he and Diana were preparing to depart.

“I’ve been well,” she replied. “I’ve always enjoyed Paris in the summer, and we’ve been going through some of the artifacts we have in storage at work, which is quite fascinating.”

“I’ve heard that the Louvre has more pieces of art in storage than it does on display,” Clark commented.

Diana laughed. “That is true several times over, I think. How are you and Lois? You should come to Paris for dinner sometime.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Clark replied, “but we have a houseguest right now, actually, a homeless veteran Lois has become intrigued by. He’s too mysterious for her satisfaction, it seems.”

Diana had been on the receiving end of Lois’s curiosity before, and she chuckled again, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Poor man.”

“Is it cruel to take bets on who will crack first?” Clark asked good-naturedly.

Diana’s eyebrow rose. “He must have a formidable will if you think he can out-stubborn Lois.”

“It’s not so much that I think he will out-stubborn her,” Clark said. “I think he will disappear if he feels she’s getting too close to the truth for his comfort, though. It’ll be a race between whether she can find out the truth about him before he realizes how much she knows.”

Dianna hummed with interest. “What does she know so far?”

“Not much. He was a military pilot, possibly in Iraq. He’s traveled around Europe, mostly for work. He first caught Lois’s interest because apparently he needed more help with computers than someone his age should.”

Diana frowned. “There are plenty of people who are not raised with technology, even in America.”

“You don’t often find them in urban areas, though,” Clark pointed out. “Technology is so ubiquitous in Metropolis that you can’t turn around without running into a computer of some sort. They’re even putting them in cars these days, and I’m sure planes, too. Even if he got out of the military ten years ago, he should still have basic computer skills.”

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve known any pilots or soldiers on a personal level,” Diana replied, her gaze distant and a wistful quality edging into her voice. “I haven’t asked or been told what technological skills the military expects these days.”

“Me either,” Clark said with a shrug, “but it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Diana didn’t answer; her attention was focused on the fire chief approaching them.

“Thanks very much,” the fire chief said. “I’m glad to see my people rested for a change.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do more,” Diana said, but the fire chief waved her hand, brushing off Diana’s apology.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You’ve helped, and that’s all that matters. You’ve saved civilians and animals, as well as homes and the forest to the west that nearly went up when the wind changed, and you’ve most likely shortened the time we’ll all have to be here. That being said, fighting this thing is our job; we appreciate the help and the reprieve, but it’s our responsibility, not yours.” The fire chief’s smile was kind, and Diana and Clark both returned it.

Clark knew Diana struggled with how much they could help in situations like this, because he did as well. For all their powers, a forest fire of this size was simply too vast for even the two of them to put out completely in one day. It was good to be reminded that the work they had put in had helped, even if they hadn’t managed to finish the job.

“I’ll keep an ear out,” Clark told the fire chief. “We’ll be back if you need help again.”

The chief thanked them again, then waved as they took to the skies.

Clark waved Diana off over Victoria; her conference was over, but she still had to check out of her hotel and make her way back to Paris, which she always did through regular channels when traveling for work. She would take a plane back to Paris tonight, Clark knew.

He continued on to Metropolis. He had a sneaking suspicion that Lois would have extended Steve’s invitation, given how little he’d revealed the night before and the research she had planned to conduct on him that day. She’d want to keep him in her sights.

Sure enough, when he scanned the apartment, Steve was there. Situations like this were one of the reasons Clark had insisted on an apartment with a balcony off the master bedroom. Using enough super-speed to get in and out without making too much noise, he changed out of the suit into regular clothes, grabbed his laptop bag to give the impression that he was returning home from work, then circled the building to enter the apartment using the door from the hallway.

Lois was seated on the couch, typing furiously on her own laptop. He knew that look; she had a story and a deadline coming up. Steve was sitting in an armchair across from her with a book in his hand.

Lois glanced up at him when he entered and gave him a fond look, but didn’t break her concentration. Clark smiled at her and nodded at Steve, then went into the kitchen and dropped his bag on the table.

He heard Steve enter the kitchen behind him. His heart rate was slightly more elevated than Clark would have expected. “Lois working on a story?” Clark asked.

“Yeah, it’s for the evening edition,” Steve replied.

“Deadline’s in half an hour,” Clark mused after a glance at the clock. “She shouldn’t be took much longer.”

Steve nodded distractedly. “Look, I thought I might cook dinner tonight, since the two of you have been so kind to me. It’s the least I can do.”

Clark smiled, pleased at the offer. He enjoyed cooking every so often, but he didn’t feel like doing so tonight; he’d been about to pull out their stack of take-out menus. “You don’t have to earn your keep, Steve, but if you really want to, I won’t say no.”

“Good,” Steve said. “I hope you have chicken and vegetables. Can’t say I’m good for much else, unless you want breakfast for dinner.”

Clark chuckled. “I think we have chicken in the freezer, but we eat out so much that I tend to buy vegetables only as we need them. There’s a shop around the corner, so it’s not a big deal.” He pulled some cash out from the pocket of his jeans and handed it to Steve, knowing the other man likely didn’t have the funds to buy groceries himself. “Here, take this, get what you need.”

Steve hesitated, but took the money. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“The store’s about a block east,” Clark said, trying to keep the moment from becoming awkward.

“Can you show me on a map?” Steve asked, and his heart rate kicked up, but his breathing remained even. “I’m better with directions when I have a visual.”

“Sure.” Clark pulled out his phone and brought up the map to shoe Steve. “If you go out the side door here, turn left, and it’s right in your path.”

Steve studied the image, inhaling deeply though his nose with a look of concentration. “Great, thanks,” he said after a moment. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Clark nodded, and Steve slipped out of the apartment, closing the door quietly. Clark made his way to the living room just in time to watch Lois snap her laptop shut with a sigh.

“Interesting day?” Clark asked her.

“Just a boring political scandal,” she said. “The interesting part was earlier. I talked to Miriam.”

“And?”

“No record of a Steve Trevor with recent service.”

Clark’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He hadn’t thought Steve was lying about his service, only about the location of that service. He moved to sit beside her as she moved her laptop to the coffee table.

“However,” Lois continued, “there is a record of a Steve Trevor who died heroically in World War I.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I need a better picture of the guy to know for sure,” Lois replied. “The one I found was grainy. It does look like him, though. I was going to call Miriam again to see if she would send me the one on file with the VA.”

“They might be related,” Clark mused.

Lois nodded. “I think it might be something psychological.”

Clark paused briefly, letting that sink in. “You mean you think he did serve, but his PTSD is causing him to take on the identity of his dead ancestor?”

Lois shrugged. “The brain is weird. It’s a working theory.” She settled into his side, then pulled back. “You should shower,” she told him. “I can smell smoke on you.”

Clark took her suggestion, and spent his time in the shower thinking about her theory. He knew little about psychology and less about PTSD, so who was he to say that the concept didn’t have merit? If the ancestor had died bravely, and Steve had grown up with a sense of hero-worship for the man, could his brain have tried to heal itself by fixating on the family story and forming a new identity based on it? Would a split personality have caused Steve to block out any technological knowledge he had, though? Clark didn’t know.

He finished showering and re-emerged just as Steve was getting home with his groceries. They exchanged pleasantries, but Steve waved off any offers of help preparing the meal, so Clark went to sit with Lois at the table as she told them both about the story she’d written.

Dinner conversation continued in a light manner. They discussed the book Steve had read, and Lois and Clark both recommended others. Lois and Clark filled Steve in on recent news and described their jobs as reporters. By unspoken agreement, they didn’t push him for further details of his life; there would be time for that later.

Lois slept in the next day. It was Saturday, and she refused to set an alarm on weekends. Clark, of course, was up; he rarely slept past sunrise. She wandered out of her room, and met Steve in the hallway, clearly just up himself.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing at his eyes.

“Morning,” Lois returned. “You going to shower?”

“Unless you want it,” Steve replied.

“You go,” she said. “I need coffee first.”

“Do you mind putting on enough for me as well?” Steve asked hopefully.

Lois’s lips curved in as much of a grin as she could manage before coffee. “Sure thing. Leave me some hot water.”

They parted ways, Steve to the bathroom and Lois to the kitchen. Clark, bless him, had once again filled the coffee pot, this time with enough for both her and Steve. Lois pressed the brew button, heart filled with love for her ever-thoughtful fiance, and picked up her phone to start scrolling through the morning news sites to see if there was anything pressing that might need her attention.

She was in the living room, coffee half gone and scrolling through her social media, when Steve emerged from the bathroom. He helped himself to a mug of coffee in the kitchen, then wandered into the living room and sat across from her. He was silent for a moment, then said, “Where’s Clark?”

Lois gave a nonchalant shrug. “He goes for a run most mornings.” This was not true. Clark was probably doing his morning Superman routine, which included a circuit of the city and surrounding area, a check on Smallville, then a high-atmosphere meditation where he listened for any world-wide problems or disasters that needed his attention. She expected he’d be doing a fly-over of the wildfire in British Columbia this morning, too.

Steve nodded thoughtfully, then said quietly, “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

“Hmm?” Lois looked up at him, trying to recall what he was talking about.

“About the VA, and maybe seeing a doctor,” he replied, “I – it might be a good idea.”

“I can talk to my contact,” Lois started, joy that her self-control the evening before had paid off and hope that he was letting her in leaping in her chest, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“I’d rather do this myself,” he said firmly. “I appreciate the offer, Lois, I do, but . . .” He trailed off with an uneasy shrug.

“Okay,” Lois replied. She understood, she supposed, even though it put a dent in her attempt to figure out his story. “Is there anything I can do for you, then?”

He hesitated. “Well, I actually don’t have a phone.”

Of course he didn’t. “You can use mine,” she told him. She closed the app she had open and handed it to him, unlocked. “Just tap the icon with the handset on it, it’ll bring up the keypad. Or if you need the number, you can go through Google.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly, taking it from her. “Do you mind if I . . .” He gestured towards the kitchen.

Yes, she did, because she wanted to eavesdrop on his conversation. “Not at all,” she told him.

He got up and headed into the kitchen, passing around the archway so that she could no longer see him. After a moment, she heard the soft murmur of his voice with brief pauses for the person on the other end of the phone to respond to the conversation, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying.

He came back shortly, and there was a new, jittery element to his manner. “Thanks,” he said, handing her the phone. “They suggested I swing by. I’ll see you later?”

She smiled. “Plan on it. I’ll let you know when you’ve over-stayed your welcome,” she said, teasing.

He smiled back distractedly, and then he was out the door.

Lois went for her shower, then threw a load of towels in the wash – they were going through them faster with three people in the apartment. Clark arrived just as she was gathering the dishrag and towels from the kitchen to go in with the load.

“Steve’s out?” Clark asked, stepping out of their bedroom, already changed out of his Superman suit.

“He called the VA this morning, they asked him to come by,” Lois told him.

“Oh?” Clark’s brows furrowed. “On a Saturday?”

“The VA is open on Saturdays. I was actually just about to call Miriam to see if she can get me that picture.”

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

“I’ve had coffee.”

Clark rolled his eyes; whether or not coffee counted as breakfast was an old argument. “I’ll cook, you call.” This was the best of both worlds; Clark could listen in on the conversation without being on the call, and neither of them would have to eat her cooking.

Lois sat at the table as Clark got out two frying pans, pancake mix, eggs, and bacon. She pulled up her call history on her phone; it would be the easiest way to find Miriam’s number after their conversation yesterday. However, just before she hit Miriam’s name, something caught her eye.

Perry’s number was the last entry in her call history.

That couldn’t be right. Steve had used her phone that morning; his call to the VA should have been at the top of the list.

“Clark?” Lois called.

He looked up at her.

“Steve didn’t call the VA. It’s not in my call history.”

Clark frowned. “Maybe he erased it?”

“Why would he do that? He told me he was calling.”

“Maybe he didn’t actually call the VA.” A look of concentration came over Clark’s face, then he shook his head. “I don’t think he’s at the VA.”

“Can you find him?”

Clark shook his head. “I know his heartbeat well enough to determine if he’s in a particular building, but not well enough to find him in an entire city, not without a systematic search, block by block, and that could take a while. If he’s on the move, it might take even longer.”

Lois worried at her lower lip, then double-clicked the home button on her phone. The apps open in the background displayed. She scanned them, and noticed one in particular. She opened it, and it displayed the page Steve had accessed. She met Clark’s eyes, her own wide with horror. “He accessed my contacts. Diana’s page.”

Clark froze for a half-second, then immediately turned to face the direction of the guest room. His face took on the look of concentration she knew meant he was using his x-ray vision. “There’s a military uniform,” he said, “but I don’t recognize the style. There are pins and metals – a couple have writing – it’s in German,” he said in disbelief. “Some old coins – Austrian schillings, German deutschmarks, French and Belgian francs, British shillings from before decimalization, and, God, what are those? Lira, but not Italian – I think they might be from the Ottoman Empire.” He turned back to look at Lois, eyes refocusing. “Nothing else.”

They were silent for a moment, looking at each other. “I think it’s time to go see Bruce,” Clark said finally.

They took the time to finish a quick breakfast – omelettes only, rather than the full spread Clark had been longing for – then Clark took off to Gotham. Lois opted to stay behind in case Steve came back, though Clark made her promise not to confront Steve without him. He didn’t plan to be gone very long, anyway.

Bruce was in the Batcave when Clark arrived, which was not a surprise. However, so were Barry and Vic, which was. Clark hadn’t thought that Bruce and Barry got along well enough to socialize outside of League business.

“I’m not socializing,” Bruce said grumpily when Clark made a teasing comment to that effect. Barry snorted and began to hunt for the snacks that Alfred kept around, hoping to entice Bruce into eating while he was working. “He needs a new suit. We’re testing materials.”

“You could have just used the same materials he used in his old one,” Clark pointed out. “It worked fine.”

“What is the point if getting something new if it’s not better?” Bruce asked rhetorically, immediately following up with, “Why are you here?”

Clark ignored him long enough to shake Vic’s hand. “That explains why Barry’s here. What about you?”

Vic shrugged. “Moral support.”

“Well, I could use your help too, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Vic said, beginning to look curious.

“I need research done on someone,” Clark explained, turning to include Bruce in the conversation, “and you have the best decryption systems that can also reduce firewalls to virtual rubble. Lois thought she could dig it up herself, but something’s come up, and now it can’t wait.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

Clark sighed. “This guy may be after Diana.”

“What?” Barry’s head popped out of a cupboard in alarm. Vic looked anxious.

Bruce moved immediately to his computer. “What’s the name?”

“Steve Trevor,” Clark replied.

Bruce turned back around and gave him a look of unimpressed incredulity.

“Who’s Steve Trevor?” Barry asked.

“Steve Trevor is dead,” Bruce said flatly.

“He may be an impostor,” Clark said.

“Do you have a picture?” Bruce asked.

Clark gave himself a mental kick. That would have been a good idea. “No.”

“Who’s Steve Trevor?” Barry asked again as Bruce turned back to the computer and began opening files.

Bruce continued to ignore him. “This the guy?” He leaned back from the computer so Clark could see the screen.

It was an old photo, and showed Diana in her armour and a long, dark cloak, flanked by four men. The one immediately to the left of her was slightly out of focus, almost ghostly, but was recognizably Steve Trevor.

“That’s him,” Clark breathed.

“Who’s Steve Trevor?” Barry asked for a third time, more insistent than ever.

“Steve Trevor is Diana’s dead boyfriend,” Bruce finally answered.

“Diana has a dead -“ Clark broke off abruptly as the realization hit him. Hades, god of the Underworld – of the dead – who had promised Diana a gift, nearly five months ago now.

“Where did you get that photo?” Vic asked. “The only one I can find is this one.” Another monitor turned on, displaying a grainy military portrait. The young man in it did bear some resemblance to Steve, but the degraded nature of the image, plus the fact that the man in it was younger and healthier than the Steve Clark knew, might have thrown him off the scent, had he not been certain they were the same person. Since Lois was expecting the man to be an ancestor of Steve’s and not the man himself, Clark wasn’t surprised she hadn’t completely identified him. The human brain had a tendency to ignore what it thought to be impossible; that very trait was something Clark took advantage of to keep his civilian persona secret.

“This is the only virtual copy in the world,” Bruce said. “Diana has the original, and this one stays on my servers, behind my firewalls.”

Vic nodded as if this explained everything. “I helped Bruce upgrade his system to keep even me out, unless I’m physically here,” he explained upon Clark’s questioning look. “I also keep an eye on any digital footprints left by League members, and I scrub anything that might be too close to identifying us, or I block us from coming up in searches. Like, Diana’s mentioned on the Louvre website, but I make sure that it doesn’t come up when you Google her name, and her staff picture will never load.”

“Thanks, Vic,” Clark said, touched. On the other hand, Diana’s dead boyfriend had dropped into the future and must have had a frustrating time getting blocked at every turn when he tried to find her. He stood up. “I have to go,” he said.

“No,” Barry said, “you have to call Diana.”

“It’s not him,” Bruce said. “This guy’s dead. Blew himself up at the end of the First World War. And even if he hadn’t, he would have died of old age by now.”

“I have a theory,” Clark replied. “I will call Diana when I’m certain of it. And to be certain of it, I need to go.”

He left without another word, fast enough that he could ignore any further objections. He slowed down only briefly when he was out of the Batcave, to send Lois a text, even though he would reach her only moments after she got it. On my way, Steve is Diana’s dead boyfriend, will explain when I get there. He’d told her about the encounter with Hades when it had happened, but he’d be back in Metropolis before he could type the full explanation out in a text.

He barely up in the air when his phone dinged with a reply – a picture, that nearly made him fall out of the sky, of Steve and Diana, standing in his living room, clinging tightly to each other.

It was all Lois could do not to pace anxiously while Clark was gone. She turned on the TV, but couldn’t focus on anything. She opened her laptop to review current and upcoming events, looking for a story, but nothing seemed appealing, and she quickly put it aside. She thought about making more coffee, but decided that probably wasn’t a good idea. Finally, she got out the vaccuum, hoping that it would provide enough physical activity to take the edge off her nerves, with the added bonus of being productive.

She was nearly done, and was contemplating what chore to tackle next, when Steve arrived, and her focus then became appearing as normal as possible.

It quickly became apparent that her efforts were unnecessary, though. Steve was even more distracted than Lois was. He picked up the book he had been reading, but never flipped a page, and his knee bounced constantly. He got up and moved to the window and stared out of it, fingers tapping against his leg, and jumped at every small noise, turning to look at the door.

“What’s going on?” Lois asked him finally. The clock said he’d only been there for fifteen minutes; it must be broken, Lois decided. It felt like it had been hours.

He started at the sound of her voice, as if he’d forgotten she was there, but just as he opened his mouth to answer, there was a knock at the door.

Steve jerked towards the door, but Lois was closer. She pulled the door open and found a flushed Wonder Woman on the other side.

“Diana!” she said in surprise. “What’s up?”

“Lois,” Diana replied, sounding just as distracted as Lois had been all morning and looking somewhat surprised to see Lois, as if she wasn’t standing on Lois’s own doorstep.

“Diana!” Steve said from behind Lois, who turned to look at him in disbelief.

“Steve!” Diana’s voice, sounding half-strangled, reached Lois as she dashed past her into the apartment, and she and Steve met in a crash of bodies, arms immediately going around each other, faces buried in the other’s neck. Diana’s hand went to the back of Steve’s head, and he sagged in her arms, as if he was finally able to relax.

Lois’s phone chimed with a text from Clark: On my way, Steve is Diana’s dead boyfriend, will explain when I get there.

Lois fought down the urge to laugh hysterically, then snapped a picture of the reunited couple and sent it back. He’d be here in a few seconds anyway, but sometimes she just couldn’t resist.

Diana and Steve had pulled back slightly, and were now staring in open fascination at each other, talking quietly. Diana couldn’t seem to stop touching Steve’s face, and he leaned into her hands, pressing them into his skin with his own, eyes focused hungrily on her face.

Clark appeared at Lois’s side. He’d come directly from their bedroom, but Lois doubted either Steve or Diana noticed. They looked at each other, then Clark cleared his throat and said, “So it’s been an interesting morning.”

Steve looked up, and Diana turned in his arms, but seemed unwilling to let go of him. “Thank you,” she said, tears in her eyes. “Thank you for keeping him safe for me.”

“We didn’t do much,” Lois said, taken aback.

“It was kind of an accident,” Clark added, sounding bewildered.

“Although it seems you’ve been a busy little beaver,” Lois said to Steve, eyes narrowed. “You didn’t call the VA this morning, you looked up her phone number. You aren’t very good at covering your tracks.”

Steve looked offended, then sheepish, and muttered something Lois couldn’t quite hear about modern technology, but Diana laughed fondly. “Such a spy,” she said, her hand going to Steve’s face again. Her smile was larger than Lois had ever seen it, and it lit up her entire face.

“There may still be a few things I’m not entirely clear on,” Lois hedged.

“Hades promised Diana a gift about five months ago,” Clark said. “This is it, isn’t it?” He looked at Diana for confirmation.

Diana’s brow furrowed. “This is not the sort of gift Hades gives. He does not return those trusted to his care.” She looked at Steve, eyes searching.

Steve shrugged. “I have no idea. I just woke up on a roof.”

Clark looked interested at that. “Was it the building at Sixty-ninth and Fourth?”

Steve shrugged regretfully. “Honestly, I have no idea. I didn’t think to check the location.”

Clark nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that was the place we saw Hades in April. And Diana, you said that if he sent you a gift, it would show up there.”

Diana nodded slowly. “It does make sense, but I still don’t understand why Hades would grant a gift like this. He takes his responsibility to the dead very seriously. He believes deeply that they deserve their rest, that the natural order should not be perverted through necromancy or resurrection.” She turned to Steve suddenly, eye wide with alarm. “You can stay, yes?”

Lois took a breath, intending to inquire further.

“Of course he can,” said an unfamiliar voice from the kitchen.

A tall, slender man in an impeccable pinstriped suit stepped into view and leaned against the archway dividing the kitchen and living room. He was handsome, in a smarmy sort of way, Lois thought, somewhat hysterically. How had this stranger gotten into her home?

The man held what looked like an old-fashioned scroll out to Diana. “Just sign on the line, my dear.”

“Uncle?” Diana said questioningly.

This must be Hades, Lois realized, eyes widening. She sidled closer to Clark.

“I do apologize, my dear niece,” Hades said, ignoring Lois and Clark completely. “It took a while to get him to you, given that his atoms were scattered over a good portion of Belgium, and had long ago been absorbed into the landscape. I had to enlist your aunt’s help to restore his physical form, and it took some time.”

Diana hadn’t taken her eyes off Hades, and her grip on Steve’s shirt had tightened, though she had also angled them so that she stood slightly between Steve and Hades. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Uncle,” she said.

Hades looked at her reproachfully, as if a child who had previously been rather bright was now proving mystifyingly obtuse. “I told you I would grant you a gift for returning the ring to me, my dear,” he said slowly. He waved a hand in Steve’s direction. “Here it is.” He offered the scroll to her again. “You need to sign this in order to take possession of it.”

Diana took the scroll and unrolled it. Steve peered over her shoulder, but then returned his gaze to Hades. Diana studied it longer, then announced, “I need to speak to Steve privately about this, Uncle.”

Hades blinked at her, but waved her off. Diana seized Steve’s wrist and headed past Lois and Clark toward the hallway. They disappeared into the guest room.

Lois looked up at Clark, who was watching Hades carefully. Hades, for his part, took to studying his fingernails.

The silence dragged on. Finally, Lois couldn’t stand it any longer. “Would you care for something to drink, sir?” she asked, as politely as she could manage, taking her cue from Diana’s deference.

Hades looked at her, apparently surprised she had dared address him. “No.” He tilted his head, regarding her thoughtfully. “And it’s ‘Your Majesty.’”

“My apologies, your majesty,” Lois said, fighting hard to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. From the twitch of Clark's shoulder next to her, Lois thought she may not have succeeded.

They lapsed into silence again.

After what seemed like an eternity, Diana and Steve emerged from the guest room. Diana handed the scroll to Hades. “Thank you for your gift, Uncle. I gratefully accept.”

Hades took the scroll, checked it, then re-rolled it with a smile. “Thank you, my dear niece.” He turned and walked back into the kitchen.

Lois stepped back to peer into the kitchen from the hall entrance. It was empty; Hades was gone.

“Who wants wine?” Lois asked abruptly.

A full chorus of confirmations sounded, and Lois pulled down four glasses while Clark dug out the wine from the fridge. Pouring generous glasses, they carried them into the living room.

Diana and Steve had collapsed into the couch. Diana wasn’t quite on Steve’s lap, but it was a near thing. Her legs were across his, one arm was hooked around his neck, and her other hand kept touching his face and chest. Meanwhile, Steve had one arm around Diana, and his other hand was drawing patterns on her thigh. Lois handed them the two glasses she carried, then sat opposite them next to Clark, and took one of the remaining glasses from him.

For a moment, they were all quiet.

“I can’t believe it’s not even one o’clock yet,” Clark said finally. “I feel like enough happened this morning to cover at least two days.”

Lois looked at him, horrified. “It’s only lunchtime? I’m about ready for bed.”

“We need to book flights back to Paris,” Diana said to Steve.

Steve looked at her. “What? Didn’t you bring your plane?”

Diana shook her head, smiling. “No, I flew under my own power. It was faster. But it would not be comfortable for you to fly that distance with me.”

“You can fly now?” Steve asked, suddenly seeming to be even more in awe of her than ever.

She beamed at him. “I learned after the last time you were here. I figured it out when I understood what you said to me about flying.” Her fingertips traced his lips tenderly.

“You have a plane?” Lois asked.

“Last time?” Clark said at the same time.

Diana and Steve smiled at each other, and began their story.