A/N: The conclusion! Jimmy attends a party, and a fateful three-way date.

Chapter Two

Two nights later, the Planet's Halloween party was in full swing when I walked through the main lobby, elbowing my way past pirates, 18th-Century French queens, politicos of every party and era, grown-up Harry Potters, the usual ghosts, devils, and witches, and even one brave soul in a home-made, baldie "Lex Luthor" mask. They all stared at my regular street clothes and I grinned back, fingering the camera in my pocket longingly. The photo ops here were endless, but I had more important business tonight.

"Hey, guys." On my way across the lobby, I nodded to a bunch of pudgy older photographers hanging out by one of the bars. They were wearing shark's fins on their heads and huge black cloaks to hide their wrinkled tee-shirts and jeans. They all looked like they'd thought up the best idea ever, but I knew at least a dozen girls in the office who would've sworn they weren't even wearing costumes. "Nice outfits."

Something soft and rustling brushed against my elbow, and I turned to see a graceful figure wearing a silk, Victorian-looking gown walking away from me. From the back she looked familiar, so I called after her. "Scarlett O'Hara! Don't I know you?"

She whirled around, and I blanched when I realized it was my editor-in-chief, Pauline Kahn. For once, she was smiling, and there was no cigarette in sight. No wonder I hadn't recognized her at first. "Actually, it's Nellie Bly," she corrected, wandering off to a quiet corner to chat with some guys I didn't recognize. Their outfits seemed a little off, before it dawned on me that they weren't in costume.

It was the "Metropolis P.D." shoulder patches that gave it away. Curious, I detoured close to the group and tried to listen in on their conversation, but over the noise of the party all I could catch were phrases like "security risk" and "bomb threats."

Pretty disturbing stuff, but I figured the police were on it, and I was running late, so I pushed past a few Orcs, a Klingon, and a Spock or two to reach the staircase to the basement offices where Chloe was waiting.

After the wild noise and confusion upstairs, the downstairs newsroom seemed almost eerily quiet. Most of the usual night crew were at the party, and in the low light of a few desk lamps I could barely make out the two figures bending over Chloe's computer monitor, their faces, lit by the monitor's glow, riveted to the screen. The sound of soft laughter drifted across the room, followed by a few quick whispers.

I cleared my throat loudly as I walked over, and they both straightened right away, for all the world looking like a couple who'd been interrupted at Makeout Point. "Happy Halloween, Chloe. C.K." I lifted the orange bag I'd brought along. "Trick or treat?"

C.K. almost came close to smiling. For him, that was a first. I eyed his outfit, trying not to be too obvious, but honestly, did this guy ever wear anything except blue and red? Not that he looked bad, but considering C.K.'s size, that was a lot of primary color. The red "Members Only" jacket had to be a refugee from his father's closet.

Chloe glanced from me to C.K., and I caught the quick eyeroll. "Clark, I asked Jimmy to drop in. I hope you don't mind?" She looked at him hopefully, and C.K.'s smile brightened slowly, almost reluctantly, in response.

When he turned to me, I expected the smile to disappear, but instead he flashed me a grin that lit up at least half the room. "Good to see you, Jimmy," he said, extending a hand.

I wasn't used to this kind of friendliness from a rival. Or, really, from anybody. I had to admit, this guy was acting a lot better than I would have, in his shoes.

I shook his hand and tried to remember that I was supposed to dislike him. "Same here." I looked at the monitor. "What was so funny just now?"

Chloe's smile was all for Clark. I noticed. "We were skimming through some files from last Halloween." She and C.K. exchanged another look. "Just some funny memories."

"From last year's party?" I said casually, handing Chloe the treats bag. "What did you two go as?"

C.K. grinned again. "I was Zorro. I hated the mask." Chloe beamed at him, and my stomach twisted a little.

"What about your costume?" I asked her quickly, mostly to distract her from this endless lovefest.

She finally took her eyes off C.K. long enough to face me. "Totally trashed, I couldn't get the blood off it."

"Oh," I gulped, searching for something else to say. "That must have been one hell of a party."

Chloe shrugged. "Long story. Anyway,"—she held out a hand to me—"where's your costume, Jimmy?"

I caught her hand in both of mine, and out of the corner of my eye I saw C.K.'s face fall. For some reason, that didn't make me feel as good as I thought it would, which forced me to start thinking. The big guy could have Chloe anytime he wanted to, I could tell that by the way she looked at him. Why didn't he speak up? It's strange to say this about a guy who probably could swat me like a fly without even trying, but I felt as if I was stealing from someone who couldn't defend himself.

Meanwhile, Chloe's bright hazel eyes were twinkling up at me, in a way that turned my insides into Jello. OK, maybe not stealing, I corrected myself, letting a sappy smile spread over my face. I wondered what was keeping her from telling C.K. how she really felt, knowing that there must be part of the picture that was still missing, but just then I was too happy to care much.

I noticed C.K. was looking at her too, and his face would have made an incredible action shot. Even though he never moved, I got the feeling I'd need to set a camera at maximum shutter speed to get all the expressions that he was fighting not to show. Through it all, he kept staring at Chloe as if she were the most important person in the universe, and that's when I realized the truth.

It wasn't that he couldn't defend himself; he didn't want to. Because he thought Chloe was in love with me.

Up to now, I hadn't believed that anyone could be that noble. And I still couldn't believe that anyone could be that blind.

Chloe's hand squeezed mine gently. "Hey," she murmured, "did we lose you?"

I tried to shake away that pesky sense of guilt. "Sorry, Sunshine," I apologized. "Just…woolgathering. I did bring along costumes for both of us, want to see them?"

She looked around, puzzled. "Where? Are they in that little orange bag?"

"Nope." I released her hand and raised both of mine to ruffle my hair into a reddish frizz. "Voila, instant costume! A comic book hero."

Two pairs of confused eyes met mine. "Uhh….which one?" Chloe asked.

"Archie, of course." I grinned. "And you," I said, taking back her hand, "make a stunning Betty, just as you are."

Her face lit up, and I couldn't help myself. I bent to kiss her, and she responded with so much enthusiasm that I forgot that we weren't alone.

When C.K. spoke, it almost made me jump.

"Funny," he said slowly, "I used to think that Veronica was the best girl for Archie. You're right, though; Betty's the one he's wanted all along." His eyes never left Chloe as he straightened to his full height. Every impressive inch of him radiated discomfort.

"I should go," he told Chloe, who frowned and looked like she was about to argue. C.K. cut her off. "I need to get back home. There's a lot to do on the farm tomorrow, and I'll need to start early."

He was already halfway to the double doors when she reached out. "Clark!"

Her voice made him stop, but only for a minute. "See you soon, Chlo'," he said, a little too casually. His eyes swept over to include me. "Happy Halloween." Then he was gone.

I didn't dare look at Chloe. I could see the disappointment and hurt written across her face as clearly as if I were staring at her picture. As much as I'd dreamed of having her to myself that night, I didn't want it like this.

No one's ever accused me of being unselfish, but I guess there's a first time for everything. If C.K. was what Chloe wanted, then that's what she'd get. I started for the doors.

"Jimmy, what are you doing?"

I turned to face Chloe, one hand on the door's glass panel. "I wish I knew," I answered, shrugging, and pushed through to the hall.

The basement hallway was long, twisting, dark, and completely deserted. Scratching my head, I peered in the direction of the stairs to the lobby, which were at least ten yards away from the office I'd just come from. There was no sign of my reluctant rival.

"Huh. Fast on his feet, isn't he?" I muttered, looking down the corridor past the stairwell in the direction of the newspaper's production offices. In the distance, I already could hear faint metallic echoes as the web presses geared up to print the next morning's edition.

I turned to check out the other direction, rounding a corner just as I heard Chloe's voice in the corridor, calling out for me. After a few seconds, the voice trailed off; obviously she was heading for the stairs. I was about to follow her when a tall, shadowy figure emerged from a door ahead of me. In the spotty emergency lighting, I could barely see him, but I was sure it wasn't C.K.

The ski mask on his head was one clue. The gun in his hand was another.

Heart pounding, I raced for the nearest door, which was, luckily, unlocked, and slipped through, cracking it open to keep an eye on Ski Mask. Suddenly a huge hand clamped over my mouth like a vise.

I tried to scream, but the enormous palm suffocated all sound. "Ssssssh," hissed a vaguely familiar voice. Slowly I calmed down, finally noticing that the arm connected to the hand was covered in a bright, tomato-red nylon. Even in the dim lighting, it was easy to recognize.

"C.K.?" I mumbled. I tugged at his hand, but it was like trying to budge a concrete pillar.

"Will you be quiet? We don't want these guys to hear us," he whispered back. When I nodded, he released me, and I gulped the fresh air gratefully for a second.

"Remind me never to get in a fight with a Kansas farmboy." I huffed quietly. "Are there any more at home like you?"

He stared. "Not really. No."

The sound of running feet out in the hallway distracted me. Another guy in a ski mask joined Ski Mask One and started talking, too fast and too low for me to catch any words.

"I spotted them when I left the office," C.K. explained, very softly. "I think they've set a bomb, but I'm not sure where."

So the bomb threats I'd overheard Kahn talking about upstairs were for real. "Did you call 911?" I asked him.

He didn't answer for a minute, and I eyed him curiously. Was it possible that idea had never occurred to him? "Um….no. I mean, I don't have a cellphone." I pulled out mine, only to discover that, as usual, the battery was dead.

Sighing, I put it away and got my camera out instead. Setting it to shoot continuously, I aimed at the talking crooks and pressed the shutter.

C.K. looked like he was about to explode without the help of a bomb. "You're taking pictures?" he yelped, barely managing to keep his voice down.

"What else can we do? Besides, it's my job." I glanced over at him. He was peering out at the Ski Mask Twins with an intensity that I might never have suspected he had, if I hadn't seen the way he looked at Chloe. I thought again of how I'd felt the first time I'd met him, and I knew I'd been right; there was much more to this guy than met the camera's eye.

"You know," I said, very softly, "you hurt Chloe back there." His head swiveled and a pair of startled eyes met mine. In the gloom, they seemed to shine with a light of their own. I blinked in surprise, but I didn't look away. "Don't do it again."

A slow smile spread across his face. "It's a deal."

We were stuck in a dark room, hiding out from two armed would-be bombers, but there was something reassuring about that smile, as if it promised that everything was going to be alright. Relaxing a little, I smiled back, and began to understand what Chloe saw in Clark Kent.

His eyes flicked back to the hallway, and I noticed that the two Ski Masks were going back through the door that Ski Mask One had emerged from a minute earlier. "That leads to Maintenance and the main furnace room," I murmured. "Should we follow them?"

When there was no answer I turned to repeat the question, only to see C.K. squinting hard at the closed door. "Uh, C.K., is something wrong with your eyes?"

His face cleared and he smiled at me again, as if satisfied with something. "Tell you what. I'll follow, and you go get help."

"Look, C.K., with all due respect, I don't think it's a very good idea to chase after those goons alone. And someone has to find out where they've stashed the bombs. I vote we both go."

"I already know……" I raised my eyebrows, and he shook his head. "Never mind. I'll go get help, but I think you should stay put. Don't worry, I'll be quick."

Without waiting for an answer, he slipped into the corridor and disappeared around the corner. I watched the door the goons had gone through for maybe two minutes, shifting my weight impatiently from one foot to another, then decided I couldn't stand it any longer. The lobby upstairs was filled with a crowd of unsuspecting people, and one of them was Chloe.

"Olsen, this is really, really stupid," I muttered, as crossed the hallway and opened the door on the other side, still clutching my camera. "But when has that ever stopped you before?"

The big room on the other side was just as dark as the main corridor, and seemed just as deserted. Heavy-duty cleaning equipment lined the walls, and huge exposed pipes on the ceiling led past a partial concrete divider into the next room, where they melted away into the shadows.

I took off my shoes and crept on tip-toe across the bare floor, pausing at the divider to listen for any signs of life. I didn't hear anything more alarming than the hum of machinery, so I kept going, following the pipes and being careful to stay in the shadows. The building's heating and cooling units dominated the third room, where all the pipes converged into a spaghetti-like mass.

At the foot of the biggest unit lay a stack of neatly bundled dynamite, connected to a timer and a fuse. Catching my breath, I automatically raised my camera and pressed the shutter.

Close behind me I heard the sound of a gun being cocked. I whirled around, still holding the camera, and stared down the barrel of a pistol in the hand of one of the two Ski Masks. He was standing close enough for me to know that he'd eaten garlic that day.

If you've ever seen a deer frozen by headlights, you've seen me staring at that gun. I knew I had to move, but I couldn't. Helplessly rooted to the floor, I watched the finger press the trigger.

A gale-force wind rose out of nowhere, blasting past me and knocking Ski Mask flat on his back. Ski Mask Two ran from the next room and had just enough time to fire one shot into the air before he joined his buddy on the floor. Both of them were out cold, and their guns had disappeared.

The wind whipped around me one more time, ruffling my hair, and then everything was quiet. Turning, I saw that the stack of dynamite was gone.

My first thought was that I was still alive. My second was that my finger was still pressing the camera's shutter.

A few hours later, after giving our statements to the police, Chloe, C.K., and I were on our third round of coffees at an all-night diner close to the Planet.

"I'm glad this is decaf," I said, curling my hands around the mug and inhaling the steam. "I need a lift, but I can do without any more shakes tonight."

Chloe grinned. "I'm proud of you. Of both of you." Her eyes shifted to C.K., and they shared another one of those private looks. By now, I was getting used to them, and I discovered, to my surprise, that I didn't mind them all that much anymore.

One day—soon, I thought—I'd be losing a girlfriend. I wasn't looking forward to that, but on the other hand, I'd be gaining two very good friends. Not a bad deal, all in all.

I took a sip from my mug. "I'm not sure I did much of anything, to tell the truth, except take a few pictures," I said modestly. "The day was saved by that mysterious whatever-it-was. Hey!" A sudden inspiration hit me. "I've thought of the perfect caption for the lead story's photo in tomorrow's edition! 'Saved by the Ghost of the Daily Planet'."

C.K. and Chloe glanced at each other and burst out laughing. "Good luck getting that published, Olsen," Chloe told me between chortles.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," I said, lifting my camera. "But check out some of these pix, they're awesome."

Holding it up so that all three of us could see, I clicked through the dozens of digital images that the camera had snapped continuously during the break-in. The Ski Masks, One and Two, were featured prominently, as was the pistol that had almost killed me. And, as I looked through the images, I discovered that, here and there, I'd caught something else: A blur that, in one or two frames, appeared to have hands, and a form.

C.K. caught his breath, and his eyes widened. "Wow," he commented, in a respectful kind of way that made me puff out my chest a bit. "You really are good at action shots, aren't you?" He jumped as if something had pinched him, and frowned down at Chloe, who smiled back sweetly. "That is, I mean, some of them are blurry…..but the rest are good."

"Hmm." I looked at the blurry pictures a little more closely, then shook my head to clear it.

I swear, I'm seeing blue and red everywhere.

THE END