A/N: This chapter is set as an ep tag to S10's Isis. Hasn't had a beta, so any gross errors are all my fault and I apologise in advance. :o

Chapter 4: Isis Is Where the Heart Is.

Bob straightened after he'd shoved a tattered old archive box into place and checked his watch. Nearly eleven. He and Joe had been working steadily all morning. Bob looked around the room; one of many in the rabbit warren that was Archives. This room had definitely seen better days, and it was their job to see it restored to something more constructive then its current title of 'junk yard'. The table would definitely stay, as would the chairs. It already had a phone and a desk lamp. There were three old floor lamps that Bob was sure he could polish up and keep. Musty old archive boxes sat one atop the other, or were thrown on top of steel shelves. Piles of stacked file folders sat here and there. The shelves were crammed full with old concertina files and various other bits of discarded and unwanted paperwork that had long since been digitally rendered and weren't considered worthy of taking up valuable space as hard copy archives. There was a lot left to do, but they'd made good progress.

Pushed together in the centre of the room and toward the back was what they'd marked for discarding so far. They'd made a mound of the large clear bags full of shredded papers, waiting to be taken to recycling, and on top of those a few filled with the left over gold paper discs the Daily Planet had used as tickertape, when the Metropolis Sharks had won the Super Bowl last year. Around that, Bob and Joe had piled a few of the archive boxes full of various bits of papers and rubbish. But they were running out of floor room now and would have to toss this stuff before they could continue.

"Thinking what I'm thinking?" Joe asked, dropping another pile of papers on top of a box.

"Real men drink coffee?"

"Watch it," he replied, but smirked, already heading to the elevator. "I think a well-earned break...hey, you know, Jean said she baked brownies last night."

When Jean baked, she always baked too much and they were the lucky recipients. She would bring a batch in, leaving them in the break room for everyone to enjoy.

Bob's mouth watered just thinking about it. "Well we better get in there before there's none left."

Bob thought perhaps he'd had one too many brownies. God bless Jean, he thought, but he wasn't sure how his stomach was going to cope with all the bending and lifting he had left to do.

He spotted Joe maneuvering the mover cart through the street level lobby toward him, weaving his way around bustling news hounds, and hit the elevator call button.

The doors slid open with a ding. Bob started to take a step inside when he was treated with an eyeful of groping hands and entangled limbs. Clark Kent and Lois Lane were pressed into the corner of the elevator and Bob had no clue what to do about it. He was just considering coughing loudly when they suddenly broke apart like giggling teens, wide grins on their faces.

Kent cleared his throat sheepishly when he spotted Bob in the doorway, but Lane just smiled and waved. Kent gripped her hand and swept out of the elevator in a hurry.

"Miss Lane, Mr Kent."Joe nodded at them with a smile as they passed him and disappeared into the rushing crowds. "They looked happy."

Bob rolled his eyes. "No kiddin'"

He helped Joe wheel the cart into the elevator and promptly forgot about the reporters on the short ride back to the room they were working on, his thoughts on the tasks ahead. He whipped out his notepad and checked through it. They'd load up the cart with everything they'd stacked together so far and take that to recycling or the trash, as needed. Once that was done, they'd need to...

Bob's train of thought came to a screeching halt when the elevator doors opened. He stepped slowly out, Joe right behind him. A couple of archive boxes were upended, their contents spilling out, some of the bags of shredded paper had burst, gold discs lay scattered everywhere.

Sitting on the table was a first aid kit.

"Son of a…!"