In a Better Place
by CC Aiken  <ccaikenfanfic@aol.com>
Rated: PG
Submitted: August 2006



* * *
Chapter One


He had only known her a short time. Barely a week. But he wasn't 
at all surprised to see her there. Right in the middle of it. 
Center of the action, heart of the story. As he crossed the 
threshold and took in the alarm on her face, and the growing 
disbelief, he fought a giddy urge to say as much. "You again?" 

Of course he didn't. Because if he could get past her, get in and 
get out without her shouting about annoying junior partners in 
ridiculous get-ups who had obviously lost what little mind they 
already had, then he knew he was golden. The dual-identity thing 
would work. 

Talk about your baptism by fire. 

So, Lois was the one who had stopped the launch sequence, who had 
performed a quick thinking act of sabotage to a billion dollar 
space craft in order to save lives. 

And she would get the story, too.

All in all, really brilliant. Which was exactly why he wasn't 
surprised to find her there. He was learning; this was par for 
the course with Lois Lane. 

He stepped around her quickly, focusing on what needed to be 
done, only half-way hearing her stammered, startled questions. He 
couldn't let her distract him. And he knew too well, she always 
did. A face like that... 

A bomb.

He studied it for only the briefest of seconds. Time was of the 
essence, to say the least. And it was sized just about right... 

Down the hatch, then. He would just have to take it on faith that 
he could handle it. He'd had enough years to get used to the idea 
of being invulnerable. To test that reality in a variety of ways. 
But this would be... different. It certainly hadn't occurred to 
him before now to just... swallow explosives. 

He did it. He gulped it down before he could talk himself out of 
it. Before he could try to do anything else that might risk those 
on board, might risk the critical colonist transport. Might risk 
Lois.  

"Excuse me," he said to her, as the after shocks came back up on 
him a bit.  

She didn't call him Clark. She didn't point her finger and 
declare that even though he had just saved the day, dammit, she 
had been here first and the story was all hers, no sharing. She 
simply stared. Dumbfounded. 

He took an extra second to memorize that look on her face. He'd 
never seen it before. She was always so sure, so completely in 
control. But now... 

He grinned. He'd impressed her. Finally. Never mind that she 
couldn't know exactly *who* had impressed her. The look on her 
face was good enough for him. He only wished he had thought to 
bring a camera. 

***

When he had conferred with the scientists both inside and outside 
the control tower at EPRAD, assuring them he could be of help, 
that it wasn't necessary to scrub the launch, when the colonists 
had returned to their stations, ready to go, he sought her out. 
She was back where she had been before, strapped in and not even 
breathing hard.  

"Excuse me," he said to her again, drawing her attention to where 
he stood in the doorway. "Miss...?" 

"Lane," she said, tossing her seatbelts off in a blur and moving 
towards him. "Lois Lane. The Daily Planet. And you are...?" 

He smiled politely. Yeah, right. "A friend," he said carefully. 

"Well, friend," she said with a dazzling smile. "I think we need 
to talk. And since we aren't moving yet, now would be an 
excellent time." 

"We're going to be underway in just a minute," he told her, 
watching as she pulled a mini-recorder from her hip pocket. A 
notebook from the other. She clicked record and held the device 
just under his chin. 

"Right. And I understand you're coming along. So, I just jotted 
down a few questions." 

He peered over at her notes. A few? More like a hundred. And in 
record time, too. 

"Ms Lane," he began somewhat warily.

"Lois," she corrected him with that same dazzling smile. 

"Lois," he said distinctly into the recorder, "are you planning 
on staying on Prometheus as a resident?" 

She looked up from her notebook. "What? Oh... no. No! I was just- 
I wanted- well, no. I hadn't actually planned on it." 

"So, you were just... along for the ride?"

"Precisely. And good thing I was! A responsible journalist has a 
duty to- to-" 

"Stow away on restricted space craft?"

"Yes," she said with a stubborn lift of her chin. "Just think 
what would have happened if I hadn't." 

He inclined his head to acknowledge her point. "But what now? 
You're going to ride into space and then just... catch a cab 
back?" 

"I hadn't actually worked all the kinks out of my plan yet," she 
said with a sniff, hitting the off button on her recorder and 
pressing rewind. "We're talking about you, not me." 

"Maybe I could make you a deal?" he said slowly, enjoying her 
excited fumble with the recorder controls as she hit record once 
more. Her heart was galloping. And yet, to the outside observer, 
she was as cool and composed as ever. 

He felt that now familiar swell in his heart, the tightness in 
his chest, the one he'd had since the first day, since her stormy 
entrance into Perry's office, into his world. He couldn't name 
it. He didn't know what it was. But it was... hypnotic. 

"You stay here, and I'll come back and describe the flight to 
you." 

Her brow darkened and her heart rate tripped a bit faster, but 
she didn't back down. "It's still second-hand that way. I should 
come with you and watch." 

"I don't think that's safe, Lois."

Not smart, Kent. He knew her well enough to know that. What were 
the words that were the equivalent of catnip to a kitten? ‘Not 
safe' to Lois Lane. Idiot. "I can't bring you back through empty 
space." He sounded a bit desperate now. Off-balance. 

She was studying him more closely too, and he knew exactly why 
even if she didn't. He had sounded just like Clark Kent.  

He rushed on, squaring his shoulders a bit and deepening his 
voice. "In open space you can't breathe. You'll freeze. 
Vaporize." He wasn't sure that was right, but it sounded good. 
"Burn up on re-entry," he added in a moment of inspiration. And 
that was most definitely true, he thought with great relief. 
There was no way he could bring her home.  

She faltered. Considering. He half expected her to demand a space 
suit, scuba tanks, or her own craft. "How about I fly you back to 
the Daily Planet when I'm finished?" He dangled that in front of 
her to sweeten the deal. 

"Fly me?" she said very slowly.

"Fly you, yes."

"In the space pod you came in?" she said to clarify.

"In my arms," he said with a sheepish smile. "I never said I had 
a space pod." 

Neither had he confirmed that he was an alien, though he was as 
inclined to believe it as Lois apparently was.  

"Then you don't?" she demanded. "Have a space pod?"

"No," he answered firmly. "I fly... under my own power. It's how 
I got here. And it's how I'm going to lift the shuttle into 
orbit." 

"You're going to... lift... the shuttle," she parroted back to 
him. "Into orbit." 

He could practically hear her writing. ‘Swallows bomb, dresses 
oddly, flies unassisted, lifts really heavy things...' 

"Yes," he said simply. "I'm going to fly this out to Prometheus, 
see it safely docked. And if you like, I'll come back here and 
describe it to you, and then take you back to work. I imagine you 
have some writing to do." 

"Ok," Lois said with more than a bit of reluctance. "I'll meet 
you in the upstairs file room at EPRAD. Fourth floor, next to 
last room on the left. It's tiny, no windows, and hardly ever 
used." 

"And you know about that... how?" he asked, just because he knew 
he would enjoy the answer. 

"It's a reporter's job to know," she hedged, her chin coming up 
once more, a hint of a challenge snapping behind her eyes. 

"I'll meet you there," he said quietly.

"And just so we're clear," she pressed. "You won't be flying 
anyone else... before me." 

"You mean, besides the transport?" he teased her gently. 

"Right. No other individual." 

"So, you want to be exclusive?" 

Good grief. Was he flirting with her? Here? Now? A space station 
to reach and lives in his hands and a new role to play... and he 
was standing here with Lois Lane... flirting? That could not be 
right. Because that would be so very, very stupid. 

And fun. 

But much more stupid than fun, he reminded himself harshly. So he 
wouldn't. Would. Not. 

"My exclusive," Lois was saying with a look in her eyes that was 
positively arresting. Was she flirting back? Oh Lord help him, if 
that was the case. No. She was just... lulling him. Drawing him 
in so he would tell all. He took a deep breath, only to let it 
out again in a rush when she added with a bat of her dark eyes, 
"You're all mine, Mr... uh... Mr..?" 

"You can just say I'm a friend," he stammered, suddenly really 
eager to leave. To let the cold of space douse him with much 
needed clarity. He practically sprinted from the room. He stayed 
out of her sight, watching her exit- just to make sure she really 
did- and listening intently to the last minute instructions from 
EPRAD's team.  

So far so good, he told himself. He had saved the transport from 
the bomb, though he'd be lying if he didn't admit his gut still 
felt a little strange. He had spoken to Lois and she hadn't seen 
right through him. All he had left to do was fly the shuttle to 
its destination.  

The hard part was over. What could possibly go wrong?

***

The sun had long since set by the time he returned. From the sky 
EPRAD was brilliantly lit and very busy. He took note of the 
intense concentration on the faces of the scientists monitoring 
Prometheus's status. Then he let his eyes climb, story by story, 
to the lone, dim lamp lit in a windowless office on the fourth 
floor. 

She was there. And he knew that she would be. The chances that 
Lois Lane might grow bored with the wait and leave for home 
were... He laughed at the very thought. Non-existent. 

He took just a moment to hover over the building. He knew he 
needed to land, enter through the door he had been instructed to, 
and report on his flight. The questions he would take there were 
nothing compared to what he knew was waiting for him on the 
fourth floor. Lois was writing madly, and no doubt had been since 
the instant she'd snuck in and commandeered the desk.  

She wasn't the only one. Not by far. The lobby and press 
conference rooms were stuffed full. Reporters and photographers 
he vaguely recognized from his short time in Metropolis were also 
planted throughout various parts of the building. Hiding behind 
potted palms and water fountains. Crouched in restroom stalls. 
There were several with binoculars in the parking lot and in the 
bushes surrounding the courtyard. Clark was grateful for the 
night sky that hid him. He and his mom hadn't really thought of 
the stealth angle when putting the Suit together. They had both 
thought the more noticeable the better. So people could see him 
easily, know that help was coming. But now he saw that definitely 
had its disadvantages. 

He owed a debt of gratitude to the forward thinking gentleman who 
had directed him to the one particular entrance. It was in the 
service bay, protected by an impressive fence, pitch black, and 
easy. One swoop and he'd be in and behind private doors faster 
than anyone could blink. 

He hesitated. 

What if he just flew home? Or even back to Kansas, to his mom and 
dad's? Where was the real harm in that? He had done what needed 
to be done. The rest of it was just... public relations. Not 
necessarily a part of helping. There wasn't any real reason he 
couldn't come and go. Rescue and leave without a lot of words or 
explanations. Was there? 

If he was going to pull this off- be Clark Kent and be... a 
flying rescuer, maybe it would be better if people never heard 
his voice in this guise. If they never got a close look at his 
face. If he was mysterious, anonymous.... 

Once more his eyes tracked up to Lois. Waiting. He had given her 
his word. He had assured the authorities at EPRAD he would come 
back and meet with them. And he had already spoken to the 
colonists. To the astronauts housed in Prometheus. To Lois. 

So, really, anonymity was out. 

He squared his shoulders. Closed his eyes. Took just a minute to 
appreciate what he had done today. He had made a difference, a 
vast difference, in the lives of many. That was what he had hoped 
for. Exactly what he had intended when he has let his mother talk 
him into a skintight clown suit. He would need to hold to that, 
to keep that one fact intact and in the forefront of his mind, if 
he was going to survive everything that was coming. 

"I made a difference today," he whispered aloud, feeling a bit 
foolish, but there was absolutely no one to hear. "Hopefully the 
first of many," he added, since he was already talking to himself 
and it made him feel better. 

He drew a deep breath, tightened into a dive, and plunged.

***

It was an exhausting couple of hours later when he bid the 
grateful, somewhat awed staff of EPRAD goodnight. He left from 
the parking lot, letting the few remaining reporters and 
photographers snap some photos of him in a take-off pose he 
improvised on the spot. He hoped it didn't look too cheesy. 

He went straight up and then poured on the speed to go right back 
down and in through a second story window he had noticed on his 
first trip back. He hit the floor noiselessly, sweeping the area 
with his x-ray vision even as he did so. No one around. He 
listened hard for any indication his return had been seen. 
Nothing. He found the stairwell and jogged up the steps towards 
his appointment with Lois. 

She was waiting just outside the fourth floor stairwell. His hand 
had barely touched the knob when the door swung open. Thinking he 
had been nearly silent in his approach, he fumbled. "Did you hear 
me coming?"  

"I've just been doing that every two minutes for the last hour or 
so," she said with a bright smile, relief clear on her features. 

"Did you think I was going to stand you up?" he teased her 
lightly. 

"That thought had crossed my mind," she returned a tad 
breathlessly, before stepping back and letting him enter the 
hallway. "How did it go? What was it like? Have you ever done 
anything like that before? How much weight can you lift? How far 
can you fly? Do you not need to breathe? What planet are you 
from? When did you arrive?" 

He stopped and blinked hard. She held the door to the file room 
open for him, still talking, still asking, he just didn't bother 
to listen any further. He was too busy trying to think up 
answers. Good, innocuous, in no way revealing answers to the rain 
of questions falling all over him. 

For one heart-stopping, knee-shaking moment, he was... a complete 
blank. 

"Um," he said, because he realized she was quiet now. Quiet and 
watching with a sharp attention that was unsettling, to say the 
very least. She pulled a chair out for him and rounded the desk 
to flip open her notebook. The spider pulling in the fly. 

He swallowed hard. Whatever had possessed him to agree to...?

Wait. He paused and gave himself a minute to think back.

He hadn't agreed to this.

As soon as he had it, he grasped onto that thought like the 
lifeline it was. He had agreed to come back, to tell her about 
the space flight and take her to work. But he had never said he 
was going to tell... everything.  

Lois was bulldozing him. He had seen her do it to a parade of 
victims all week long, and she had very nearly done it to him.  

He stopped just short of laughing out loud. She was... amazing. 
How many times in their short acquaintance had he thought that 
already? 

He sat down, feeling a bit more confident. She was going to be 
disappointed, but he could do this. 

"I don't want to answer any questions of a personal nature, Ms 
Lane," he said as matter-of-factly as he could. "But if you want 
to talk about the specifics of the flight, what happened tonight, 
I'm all yours." He smiled winningly at her. 

Which didn't actually work as well as he hoped it might.

"We had an arrangement," she returned in a sweet, friendly voice 
that immediately had him on edge. He knew better. "Otherwise I 
wouldn't have camped out here all night just to hear exactly what 
you finished telling to every scientist and reporter in the 
building." 

He didn't let himself shrink under her hard stare. In fact he 
made himself sit up straighter, broadened his shoulders. Look 
imposing. He was *not* Clark Kent right now, so he couldn't let 
her treat him as if he was. And, for crying out loud, he had 
saved her life. Saved. Her. Life. That had to earn him some grace 
points. Though he did know Lois was really stingy with grace 
points. 

He drew a deep breath and tried to say something other than, "But 
I ate that bomb and rescued you!" Which would sound a little 
whiny. Or maybe even conceited. 

He went for broke. "I don't want to be laid bare for the world to 
see." It was completely honest and she knew it, he could tell. "I 
want to help, but I don't want to be... famous." 

She sat back in her chair and simply looked at him. "You just 
saved the space program. By yourself. You flew into deep space 
carrying a space ship. In that costume-" 

"Suit."

"Suit," she echoed distractedly, waving one hand as if batting 
the word out of the way. "And you don't want fame?" 

"I want to help," he repeated. "Because I can. Because I need to, 
but this...." He gestured to her list. "Is more than I'm ready 
for." 

"Are you kidding me?" There was nothing more in her tone than 
pure disbelief. "How did you think you were going to pull a stunt 
like this without-" 

"Not a stunt," he returned a bit stiffly. "A rescue. Your 
rescue," he added a bit peevishly. So much for not sounding whiny 
or conceited. 

Lois wasn't deterred. But then she never was. "Rescue," she 
amended. "Do you plan to do more things like this from time to 
time?" 

And his nod she continued, "And afterwards, what then? You just 
disappear? No questions asked?" 

"That would be really nice," he said somewhat wistfully. 

The silence that sat between them was heavy, pregnant with all 
the things he knew were racing through her mind that she wasn't 
saying. 

"What?" he prompted, because he trusted her. He liked her. And he 
wanted to know what she was thinking. 

"You're going to need help."

He was floored. She'd caught him completely off-guard. Of all the 
things he had expected from his hard-bitten, full speed ahead 
*senior* partner, this was... dead last. He lowered his elbows to 
the desk and really studied her across the small space that 
separated them.  

She blushed slightly under his measuring gaze, but she didn't 
look away. "Are you offering?" he asked in a low voice. 

"Are you for real?" she returned in the same tone. "As good as 
you seem?" 

"I'm real," he told her. "And I'm here to help. That's it."

She had already surprised him deeply, so he didn't really expect 
her to do it again. For a cynic like Lois Lane to simply nod her 
head and accept what he was saying at face value was far too much 
to hope for. So, he waited. Watching the struggle play out across 
her face.  

"You will have to talk," she said at last, flipping her notebook 
closed. "Let people know just exactly that. That you're as good 
as you seem. That you're just here to rescue, nothing else. But I 
can teach you how to say that without giving too much of yourself 
away. For now." 

On impulse he reached across the desk and put his hand over hers. 
"Thank you." He knew. He knew better then she could ever guess 
how much it was costing her to let him off the hook this way.  

"There's a catch," she said firmly, though she didn't pull her 
hand away. 

He straightened and smiled. "Name it."

"You belong to me." She reddened a bit under his amused glance, 
but kept going. "When you do your rescues, you talk to me first, 
no matter what. For a year." 

"Six months," he countered, noting- but doing his best to ignore- 
the vague ringing of alarm which went with that offer. 

"Ten," she shot back.

"Eight," he said, not because he cared but because this was kind 
of fun. 

"Let's call it nine and you have yourself a deal."

"Nine it is, Lois Lane." He rose from his seat, offering his hand 
to shake on it. 

She did the same. "Ok, so for now I'm going to write the details 
of today's rescue. I'm going to quote you on the friend thing and 
here to help bit. Do some general description stuff." She waved 
her hand over him and muttered to herself, "A suit, not a 
costume." 

He nodded. "Sounds good."

"That leaves you some mystery," she continued. "And some time to 
work out your story. But for the next nine months, I'm the one 
who tells it." 

"And what if something happens and you're not around?"

"I'm always around," she stated. "And you already agreed. Now, 
about that flight to work..." 

With the distinct impression he had been played like a violin, 
that he had, in fact, agreed to a deal very similar to Bobby 
Bigmouth's, sans egg rolls, Clark stepped towards her. 

She had come around the desk and was holding her bag. Her white 
knuckles were the only hint she might be anything less than blasé 
about flying off into the night with a man from outer space. 

"I'm going to pick you up," he said, marveling at how easily 
those words came. "And we can be airborne in seconds. Don't 
worry. It's perfectly safe." 

She gulped and nodded. He lifted her gently, slipping his hand 
under her knees and around her shoulders. She fit against his 
chest and in his arms so perfectly he lost a step in his 
surprise. This was a perk of the job he hadn't considered before 
just now. Maybe that exclusive deal was going to be worth it. 

He swung her around quickly, earning a startled laugh from his 
passenger, even as he nearly tripped over the night janitor in 
the doorway.  

Clark froze. He hadn't seen or heard the man's approach. He had 
been so intent on Lois. 

The janitor was staring with a look in his eyes that was hard to 
read. And with good reason. Probably wasn't everyday he came to 
empty the wastebaskets and found a flying man fondling a famous 
reporter. 

This was not good.

The small bells of alarm, which had been dimly clanging as he was 
haggling with Lois over interview rights, pealed loudly now. 
Clarity was his new, though somewhat belated, best friend. This 
was going to be a problem. If he spoke to Lois and only Lois, she 
was going to become too well associated with him. 

And this, this holding her in front of a witness. One call to a 
tabloid and he'd be so much more than a mysterious rescuer. And 
she'd be so much more than just the reporter who interviewed 
him. 

He set her down quickly, knowing it was too late. He had been 
careless and the horse had left the barn, but he had to try. As 
much as he didn't want to sound clichéd, he couldn't help it. 
"This isn't what it looks like." He cringed even as the words 
left his mouth.  

"Do you have any idea how I wish that were so?" The man stepped 
into the room and into the circle of light cast by the desk lamp. 
 

Clark could see now what he hadn't noticed before. He wasn't the 
janitor. That wasn't an industrial gray uniform he was wearing, 
as much as it was a... shiny silver get-up of some sort. Not that 
he had room to be critical considering what he, himself, was 
wearing. 

"Just as sure as death and taxes," the man groaned. "And Lois, 
really. I read through hundreds of pages of this drivel- not much 
else for me to do during my most recent incarceration- and you 
got it wrong. It clearly states here..." He waved a book under 
their noses, "'I waited all night. The sun was rising when we 
left the building and flew into a sky streaked with pink and 
orange. Metropolis slept on, but for me, everything had 
changed...'"  

"You know him?" Clark asked Lois.

"No," she said adamantly. "And I have no idea what he's rambling 
on about." 

"I'm not the one rambling in purple prose about first meetings 
and true love," the man sneered. "And it isn't even accurate, 
Lois! You're a reporter, you ought to be ashamed. It's pitch 
black outside, not yet one a.m. I came early to get the worm, and 
still not early enough. Because here you two are... together. 
Eternally, insufferably... together!" 

"Ok, sir," Clark said as soothingly as he was able. "It's clear 
you're distressed. Let's walk down to the main offices and find 
someone to assist you. How does that sound?" 

"Oh, that sounds dandy. Good plan. They don't call you a hero for 
nothing, do they?" 

He tossed the book at their feet. The spine immediately cracked 
and papers of unusual size and shape fell out.  

"That looks like a... collectable," Clark said, noticing the 
strange design. "Let's just take this along with us. Maybe with 
some tape..." 

"A dime a dozen," said the man. "Or, actually, free to all school 
children, if you can imagine. Filthy propaganda." 

Lois pulled it from his hands, even as Clark was trying to stuff 
some wayward pages back in. "What is this?"  

"Don't recognize it? Try the title, darlin'."

"The Diary of Lois Lane," read Lois with a stunned laugh. Her 
look at Clark said it all. ‘Certifiable Looney.'  

"Pick a page, Lois, any page."

Lois flipped it open at random and the man peered over her 
shoulder. "Oh, the holidays. Pretty consistent theme here. Gets 
really boring after a while. Let me guess, ‘Dear Diary, Christmas 
came and went, and still no pony. Lucy is heartbroken. Mother is 
drunk. Daddy is who knows where...'" 

"Oh god!" Lois said.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," he agreed.

"What is this?" Lois rounded on him. "And who are you!"

"Now this is the part I really get tired of. The introductions. 
We need a code word, don't we? A secret handshake? Something. So 
we don't have to go through this each and every time." 

Clark moved to intercede, with no clue what was happening. "It's 
obvious you aren't feeling well, sir. Let's go get you some help. 
Lois, you stay here. I'll be right back." 

"Protecting the little woman?" the man taunted. "Careful there, 
champ. I think everyone knows she doesn't like that." 

"Who are you calling ‘little woman?'" demanded Lois. "And who the 
hell are you, and where did you get this?"  

"Help has arrived!" trumpeted a voice from the doorway, snapping 
the three of them to attention at once.  

Clark was stunned. As a general rule he wasn't easy to sneak up 
on, but this was twice in one night. The crazy man beside him 
gave one quick bark of laughter which ended in something like a 
low moan. Lois, like Clark, simply looked. 

The doorway was jammed to overflowing, full of men and women, all 
dressed in robes of various colors. All crowding into the room as 
far as they could fit. All... smiling at him and Lois as if they 
were long lost family. 

"It's them!" one whispered to another.

"I never get used to it," was the reply.

"Excuse me," Clark said, angling his body ever so slightly 
between Lois and their new audience. 

"You see how he does that?" remarked a hushed voice. "It's 
already second nature. The protective gesture." 

"She needs it, though, doesn't she?" someone chortled.

"Can we help you?" Clark asked in as stern a voice as he could 
manage. 

"This is getting weirder by the minute," muttered Lois from 
behind him and he couldn't disagree. 

The one who had spoken stepped forward and made a small bow. "Not 
to worry, sir. We are the Friends of Utopia. Helpers and 
Peacekeepers assigned to watch over your fate and the fate of the 
future. You are in good hands." 

"Hey," Lois snapped in his ear, pulling on his cape. "You didn't 
mention there was more than one of you. That you have helpers 
and... uh..." 

"Peacekeepers," chirped one, snapping his heels together with a 
smile of pure, radiant joy.  

"O-kay," Lois intoned slowly.

Clark turned to face her, blocking those behind him in the tiny 
space, and lowering his voice. "I swear, I do not know these 
people."  

"No, no, dear boy." A woman, small, round, and bespectacled, 
squeezed herself into the center of the room and the 
conversation. "You don't know us. And that's the whole point. You 
are to live your life and do what you do, while we take care of 
the time and space details. I'm not allowed to tell you more than 
that, Superman." 

"Superman?" Lois and Clark repeated in unison. 

"Whoopsies," said the woman a tad tremulously.

"Lois would have thought of it in a few hours anyway," called an 
encouraging voice from the crowd. 

"Right, right," the woman tutted. "So, I guess we can let that 
one go. But let that be a lesson to everyone. The less 
interaction the better." 

"Can we just get on with this please?" grouched the man who had 
started the bizarre portion of his and Lois's evening.  

The woman turned towards him, every bit of helpful friendliness 
wiped from her face. "Tempus," she said severely. "You know what 
comes next."  

"Oh joy," Tempus returned.

"Run a scanner over him, would you, Andrus?" the woman asked, 
giving Clark a fond pat as she moved aside.  

"He isn't armed," Andrus squeaked.

"He isn't?" gasped several of them at once.

"Maybe this one isn't him, then?"

"Maybe it's another replicant."

"Oh dear."

"Oh no."

The group huddled together in anxious conversation.

"This morning when I woke up," Lois said over his left shoulder. 
"I was in a hurry to break-in here. And then I found a bomb. Met 
a man who can lift space ships but is shy about it. I was up to 
speed on all of that... until now." 

"Trust me, Lois, you have company in utter confusion," Clark 
offered back. 

"I am not a replicant." The man named Tempus scowled. "Andrus, 
how many times have we done this? I'm hurt that you can't tell 
the difference." 

"It's hard in the absence of a weapon," apologized Andrus.

"Or gold," volunteered another peacekeeper.

"I was wondering..." Clark raised his voice and an immediate 
silence fell over the proceedings. The reverent attention was so 
complete it was unnerving. "...are Ms Lane and I in the way, by 
any chance?" 

Lois pushed around him. "Are you practicing for a play? Or maybe 
that Sci-Fi Geek Con thing is in town?" 

Tempus laughed. "Don't you love them at this point? So clueless 
and innocent. I wish we all had more time together, I really do. 
But, alas, it appears I've been foiled... again." 

"We haven't lost faith that you'll learn sooner or later, 
Tempus," said the woman who appeared to be the ringleader. "You 
just cannot continue to interfere." 

"Haven't you been paying attention? Interfering is what I do. 
It's my life's purpose. He flies around and saves the day. She is 
perpetually fooled by a pair of glasses..."  

Clark gulped.

"What?" said Lois.

"Too soon, dear girl, cover your ears," ordered the woman.

"...I interfere," continued Tempus. "We all have our place."

"Come along quietly, Tempus. You know we haven't the stomach for 
violence," said Andrus. 

"You caught me fair and square, gang." Tempus shrugged. "Though, 
God, that's embarrassing considering your combined intellect. But 
still, it's good that I was prepared." 

Something in Tempus's relaxed stance shifted. Something in his 
easy, lazy voice went quiet. 

Clark felt it. He knew Lois, more familiar with bad guys with a 
plan than he was by far, felt it too. She tensed beside him, her 
heart rate kicking up a notch. Her fists tightened. He only had 
time enough to put his arms around her. It wasn't to stop her 
from charging, and it wasn't exactly to protect her. But more to 
assure himself that she was with him. That he could feel her 
close.  

That they wouldn't be separated.

The others in the room suddenly looked as concerned as he was. 

"You said he wasn't armed!" shouted the woman whose shape was 
definitely... bending. 

"He wasn't! He isn't!" wailed Andrus, who could no longer be seen 
but for a faint outline. 

A bolt of energy hit Clark in the chest, doubling him over. He 
pulled Lois closer, holding on for dear life. She was limp, as if 
her bones had melted. The walls of the small room fell away and 
there was a rush of wind so strong he thought idly of all of 
EPRAD's files. They were going to be blown over city blocks, 
probably never recovered. 

His vision was tunneling. The cold made him shiver. He couldn't 
move. Couldn't break away from where he was standing, though the 
floor was gone. He looked up, straight ahead, and caught one last 
look at the man called Tempus. He was pointing his ring at them- 
what looked to be a reddish light was shooting from a gem stone 
unlike any he'd ever seen. Tempus was laughing. Long, loud 
delighted laughter, which followed them into the darkness. 

***

Margaret Charlotte Hathaway knew she was going to be demoted for 
this. Once the news got back to headquarters, there would be no 
way to avoid it. She spent about a half-second mourning her brand 
new office, her two assistants, Pearl and Hank. Anna, her 
receptionist, who made excellent coffee and never missed filing a 
report. 

She would lose them all, she knew. And that was as it should be. 
This was to have been an easy get. And while they did have 
Tempus, certain other rather critical factors were... well... 
missing. 

"Where have you sent them?" she thundered to Tempus, who was 
barely visible under the large pile of coworkers who had dived 
onto him in the instant it had taken their heroes to disappear. 

"Easy, Madge," counseled Andrus, who was, as always, at the top 
of the heap, and thus in no danger of dirtying his garments. 
"Your blood pressure." 

She glowered as him as thoroughly as one who was Director of 
Peacekeeping was able. Being peaceful and unruffled at all times 
had its disadvantages. She gathered her robes and squatted down 
close enough to look Tempus in the eyes. "Where?"  

He smirked. Madge waited. She knew he would tell her. He always 
did. Eventually. 

Not being able to brag on his brilliance was the only real 
hardship for Tempus. The one thing he could not do. If just once, 
one time, he did something dreadful and didn't boast about it, 
then her office would be in real trouble. As well as her world. 
So far, though, that had never happened. 

Tempus continued to look cheerful, despite the hundreds of pounds 
of wiggly humans on top of him. Madge got comfortable. 

"Since you have a hand free," she addressed Andrus through 
gritted teeth, "have a glimpse at the soul tracer, will you, 
dear?" 

Grateful to be excused from anything remotely close to violence, 
Andrus scrambled down and unhooked the small device from his 
belt.  

"It will be easier on you if you just tell me," Madge said.

"Easy is boring, darlin'," Tempus returned dryly. "You people 
never get that." 

"They aren't registering," said Andrus faintly.

"What?" The mass on top of Tempus stopped concentrating on 
pushing him into the floor and gasped in horror. 

"Don't let him up," Madge snapped, shooting to her feet and 
seizing the soul tracer from Andrus's trembling hands. "I'm sure 
it's just a malfunction. Of course they are *somewhere.*" 

"They don't register," said Andrus again, his face a deathly 
shade of pale. 

"Stop saying that," she hissed, casting a glance over at the now 
very nervous tower on Tempus. "Did someone think to take his ring 
off?" she called out, just to distract them. 

Much wiggling ensued, along with a string of colorful curses from 
the man at the bottom. Madge closed her eyes. Honestly. Tempus 
shoots their founders into who knows where, and no one takes the 
beam? If the elders didn't fire her for some reason, she'd do it 
herself. 

They weren't registering. The two vibrant souls whose status she 
had checked on the hour for nearly two years were gone. Just like 
that. Madge steeled herself, tried to keep her voice firm and no 
nonsense. "Killing the Kents wasn't very creative." 

The cries that filled the air were terrible, but Madge didn't 
acknowledge them. She kept her eyes on her target. "I thought you 
were too smart, too diabolical for anything so simple." 

"They are as good as dead, Mags," Tempus said smugly.

"As good as dead, but not... completely dead?" Madge pushed. "How 
do I know that for sure?" 

"Because completely dead wouldn't be nearly as much fun," Tempus 
answered, and Madge relaxed infinitesimally. He was proud of 
himself. He had found a way to outwit the soul tracer and it 
would kill him not to tell her about it.  

"Very clever, then," she added to get the ball rolling.

"You have no idea." Tempus beamed. 

"Give me a hint," she coaxed with a kindly smile.

"I've sent them someplace out of reach. A place so obvious I hate 
that I didn't think of it the first dozen times. The one place 
that unravels all of Utopia." 

"Amazing," Madge marveled. "How ever did you find such a place?"

Tempus ignored her, addressing the pile-up on his chest instead. 
"Ladies and gentlemen, your world is ending."  

He seemed to enjoy the effect his pronouncement had on them, 
because he got one leg and one arm free. 

"Hold him!" Madge barked. "And for God's sakes, somebody tie his 
hands!" She probably could have said that nicer, but good 
heavens, someone should have thought of it. 

"Where have you sent them?" She was finished playing his game.

"Rest easy, Madge. They've gone on to a better place," Tempus 
intoned solemnly. "Let's all take a moment to remember them, 
shall we?" 

***

Lois woke up when the rock underneath her groaned and moved. The 
sensation was weird enough to force her eyes open.  

First things first. It wasn't a rock. Which made a bit more 
sense. It was a man in bright blue spandex, which made... 
slightly less sense than a moving rock. But still, that's what it 
was, so she was going to have to work with it. 

She pushed herself off his chest. It wasn't easy. His arms were 
wrapped tightly around her. 

"Hi," she said when his eyes fluttered open and met hers.

She went still, watching him watch her. He smiled a lazy, slow 
smile. Said her name, pulled her closer... then bolted upright 
and disappeared. 

"Sorry!" he called from a good distance away. "I didn't mean, I 
mean, I wasn't... uh... Sorry!" 

"It's... ok," Lois said a bit breathlessly from the park bench 
she found herself sitting on. 

Wait. A park bench...?

She looked around, confirming that first impression. It checked 
out. So far she had woken up on top of blue spandex guy, nearly 
drowned rapturously in his deep, dark brown eyes. And now she was 
here. On a bench. In Centennial Park. And he was standing some 
ten feet away looking... completely mortified. 

Lois stood, then sank back down immediately when she felt the 
world spin. 

"You ok?" He was back in front of her, one hand on her shoulder.

"Are you?" she returned, standing up much more slowly this time. 
"I know you weren't taking advantage of me or anything. You 
weren't, right?" She stopped, trying to remember the course of 
events that had led her to being on top of this guy in the middle 
of the day in the middle of the park.  

She knew that she knew him. From the space transport. The bomb. 
EPRAD. After that, though, things got... blank. 

He was still holding her by the arm as if she were fragile and 
might collapse at any moment. Though, oddly, he was the one who 
was shaking. "Look behind you," he whispered, his face ashen. 

She whirled around, expecting... she didn't know what. But by the 
tone of his voice, the look in his eyes, something really bad. 

 Horror movie bad.

 Bloody-hook-in-the-car-door kind of bad.

It was just a statue, though. Of him. A twelve foot high 
rendering of blue spandex guy. The cape was captured streaming 
out behind him. His stance was one of strength and confidence. 
His eyes looked over their heads, off into the distance, serene 
and dignified all at once. The symbol on his chest stood out in 
bold relief. And his torso and arms had been lovingly chiseled 
muscle by muscle. 

"Wow," she said, because even though she wasn't an art lover, she 
thought maybe it was pretty good as far as likenesses went. 

"Why would this be here?" the real man asked, still looking at it 
as if it really was the bloody hook in the car door. 

"Well..." Lois frowned. "I guess because you're a hero? But that 
was awfully fast, wasn't it? It's only been-- My watch is broken. 
But whoever did it certainly didn't waste any time. It's good, 
though," she added, not wanting to offend him. 

He didn't answer. He was moving towards it, shaking his head and 
studying his stone-cast likeness with what seemed to be grave 
embarrassment. The color on the back of his neck nearly matched 
his cape and boots. 

He turned away from it as if he couldn't stand to look at it. 
"How did we get here, Lois? Do you remember? We were at EPRAD..." 
His voice faded. "It gets really fuzzy after that." 

"For me, too!" she exclaimed. "I remember you trying to wiggle 
out of my questions..."  

The blush that had been subsiding from his face came right back. 
"Like a fish off a hook," he confessed with an abashed grin. 
"You... scare me a little." 

"I do?" She returned his tentative smile with a big one of her 
own. "How about that?" she said, mostly to herself, though she 
didn't mind if he heard her. "A guy who can lift space shuttles 
into orbit... afraid of me." She tilted her head to the side, 
looking him over once more. "You're not just strong, then. You're 
smart, too." 

"Not smart enough to figure out how we got here, or how *this* 
could have." He was back to studying the statue with a scowl. 

"Could we have crashed?" Lois asked. "Remember you were going to 
fly me to work for a formal interview?"  

He took his eyes off the statue and brought them back to hers. 
She wondered if she only imagined the amusement in them. That 
couldn't be right. She hadn't said anything funny.  

"I never agreed to any formal interview," he said. "We agreed 
that would wait." 

"Strange how two people can interpret things differently," she 
said with a cavalier shrug. And this time she knew she hadn't 
imagined it. He was trying not to laugh. "We aren't far from the 
Daily Planet, so ... maybe you just... uh... missed the mark?" 

"Missed the...?" The smile faded from his face quickly. "Do you 
think we fell?" he asked, alarm in his voice. "That I... dropped 
you?"  

He stepped towards her in a blur; she couldn't follow him all the 
way in. He had been standing some distance from her, and in a 
blink, he was just there, his hands on her upper arms, his eyes 
trailing over her body rather intimately.  

"Hey!" she said somewhat defensively. "Whatever you're gawking 
at-" 

"No broken bones, no head trauma, no internal bleeding," he 
muttered, looking pale. "But... I don't remember. And I've never 
just... fallen out of the sky. I've been flying since I was 
eighteen, and even then, even when I didn't know how it worked, I 
never..." 

"Why not until you were eighteen?" she asked quickly, trying 
unsuccessfully to extract herself from his firm grip. He didn't 
even seem to notice. "Is that how old you have to be to get a 
license on your home planet?" 

He dropped his hands and raised a startled expression to her 
intently curious one. "What?"  

"I just wondered. Why the first flights at eighteen. You had to 
learn? Had to be licensed? Or maybe you were bitten by a 
radio-active spider?" 

His gaze slid away from hers once more and became shuttered. She 
recognized that now. It was a defensive move. An "I don't know 
how to answer what you just said without giving away something I 
don't want to give away" sort of move. She, herself, had a 
million of them. But they were way better than his. Not nearly so 
obvious. 

"Uh," he said, and she stared at him harder, waiting. He gave her 
arms a soft squeeze and stepped back, looking around. "There is 
absolutely no litter here. That's weird, isn't it? I mean, this 
place is... immaculate. Where are the cigarette butts and beer 
cans that are always out here? And those flowers... and those... 
are new." 

He had been here before.

Lois jotted that down in her mental notebook. She'd get back to 
it. He had given something away, though. Something worth noting. 
But for now she wouldn't pursue it. She was going along with his 
rather awkward change of subject. It was a tried and true 
interview method when someone didn't want to talk. Let them steer 
you off course, and pretend to follow. That, and as she glanced 
around to humor him, she realized... he was darn right. 

Centennial Park had been scrubbed clean. It practically shone. 

She turned a tight circle, taking it in. "The streetlights aren't 
busted," she said in awe. "In five years coming here I've never 
seen that one intact." 

"There are no trash cans," her companion said. "And... no 
trash." 

"The grass is--"

"--like a golf course," he finished for her.

He knew golf. She put that right next to ‘had been to the park.' 
There was something very non-alien about this alien. 

"No weeds," she said. "No brown patches."

"No ‘Do Not Walk on the Grass' signs for everyone to ignore."

She whirled on him. "Just who are you trying to fool?"  

He froze. And the defensive look settled back on his features.

"You aren't an alien," she accused. "What's your story? Trying to 
pretend that you are?" 

"I am," he said firmly. "How else could I do what I do? And I'm 
also just... observant." 

"Oh," she said, because just now she couldn't find the flaw with 
that answer. "Ok, then." 

"Lois, just what do you remember, exactly? Besides us heading 
towards the Daily Planet? Do you remember falling? Or taking off? 
Or... anything after we met back at EPRAD?" 

She closed her eyes and concentrated. "I remember movement. 
Flight, I guess." 

When she opened her eyes, he looked deeply troubled. Strained. 
"Maybe I just met my limit," he said in a low voice. "I lifted a 
space shuttle, so maybe I can't do anything else for a while. 
Like I just... ran out of steam." 

"You've never gotten tired before? Lost control?" she asked, this 
time just to know, not because she was adding to her mental 
notebook. He didn't know that though, because the guarded look 
came back once more. 

"If you are going to want to keep secrets," she said bluntly. "If 
you want to keep something of yourself off limits to the press, 
you are going to have to buy yourself a poker face. You're way 
too obvious." 

"I'm new at this," he apologized sincerely. "And you're right. 
I'll practice." 

"For your sake, you need to," she said softly. "I know you're 
here to do good. But if you want to be some kind of... 
vigilante..." 

"No. Not a vigilante," he said with a vehement shake of the head. 
"Nothing outside of the law in any way. I just want to help 
however my abilities let me." 

There was a plea in those last words she found almost endearing. 
He was such a juicy interview subject, and she could hardly wait 
to pin him down. But there was a vulnerability to him, an 
innocence underneath the muscles. He was right to be guarded. 
This world could chew him up and spit him out before he knew what 
hit him.  

"I have to head back to work," she said. "But I'm really 
reluctant to let you out of my sight." She tried to make that 
sound as business-like as possible. "Can you promise me that you 
won't talk to any press before me?" 

"Yes, but I never said I was going to sit down and talk with you 
in depth, Lois," he said with something like regret. "I'll talk 
to you, but it isn't going to be what you want." 

"You know how to get in touch with me. When you come to your 
senses and realize you need me to give you a voice, call me." She 
turned and stomped off towards the Daily Planet.  

And just as she had hoped, he followed, falling in step beside 
her, giving her a fond, too trusting smile. "I promise, Lois. 
When I figure out what I want to say, how to say it. When I've 
practiced that poker face, I'll call you." 

"You might have thought of all this before you flew out and 
tossed a space transport into orbit, you know. Planned a bit 
better. You seem pretty familiar with how this world works. So, 
you had to have known you would raise a lot of questions, set the 
media on its ear." 

"There wasn't time. I couldn't wait. I saw the report on the news 
that the transport was in trouble. I had to go before I was 
actually ready." 

She stopped and looked at him. "Stuff like that. You need to be 
careful what you say. I could jump right on that comment. Ask 
where you were until now. Where you were when you saw the report. 
What you were waiting for. What your plans are. How you know 
about golf courses and cigarette butts and litter in the park. 
And if you don't have an answer...." 

She shook her head and her attention drifted over his shoulder to 
the Planet, where she was trying to lead him. The familiar 
globe... 

She blanched. "Good Lord! Would you look at that?"

She didn't tear her eyes from the very changed façade of her 
building, but she felt him go tense beside her in the instant he 
turned to see what she was seeing. Heard his low moan of despair. 
 

A banner with his likeness ran the length of the building. It 
swayed gently in the breeze, just below the flag bearing the 
symbol he wore on his chest. While the Daily Planet globe was 
still there, it had been painted an amazing combination of red, 
blue, and yellow. A dazzling show of color which caught the sun 
and hurt the eye, even though it perfectly matched the flowers in 
the giant planters that ran along either side of the main doors. 

"No," she heard him choke beside her. "Oh... no."

"A statue in one afternoon, and this, too? I mean, not that what 
you did wasn't really great. Thank you, by the way, for saving 
the space program, saving all those lives. But... isn't this a 
bit much?" 

"Too much," he said with a desperate groan. "Why would they do 
this, Lois?" He tore his eyes from the display in front of them, 
and they burned into her, so bleak and pleading she took an 
involuntary step back.  

"Maybe this is just Metropolis's way of showing that we 
appreciate what you did," she lied quickly. "A big, somewhat 
tacky, thank you." 

"I scared everyone," he said flatly. "But instead of raising the 
white flag of surrender, it's my flag they're waving. Just to 
show they're friendly. That they'll cooperate. So I won't be a... 
threat to them."  

Panic skittered across his features and his breath came in hard 
puffs. Without thinking, she put out a hand to steady him, 
feeling the tension under her fingers. "Oh god. We'll do that 
formal interview, Lois. We'll do it right now. I have to get my 
story out as soon as possible. Let everyone know I'm one of 
them... basically. No delusions of grandeur. No designs to take 
over the world. I'm just... a friend."  

"Come on, then." Lois hooked her arm in his familiarly, towing 
him along. "We'll find an empty conference room and have 
something by the evening edition. Don't worry. If anyone can set 
them straight, it's me."  

She was good at what she did. She knew that. And she didn't want 
him to worry, so she didn't let him see any of her doubts. She 
just hoped, from the bottom of her heart, that she was good 
enough. For his sake. For the world's sake. And, well, maybe for 
that Pulitzer. 

***

It didn't get any better when they stepped into the lobby. Mass 
hysteria was obviously well underway. And whoever the demented 
decorator was had gone all out in an attempt to appease the 
strange visitor from another planet. The rugs were electric blue. 
The walls, a brilliant red. And the yellow on the elevator doors 
just... defied description. 

Clark managed to smother his pained exclamation, but he must have 
made some noise, because Lois glanced over at him, tightened her 
hold on his arm. She clearly wanted him for the story, he knew 
that, but she wasn't afraid of him. He drew some comfort from 
that, from her touch. In fact, he wasn't even sure he'd still be 
standing without it. 

The Chief was bearing down on them. In his very short time at the 
Planet, Clark couldn't recall seeing Perry White outside of the 
bullpen, his own personal domain. But now, in the lobby, amidst 
the terrible clash of colors, the Chief looked... different 
somehow. Smaller than he had been just that afternoon. And most 
definitely angry. 

Clark couldn't blame him. Because of him, someone had defaced Mr 
White's building, his beloved Daily Planet. That would certainly 
detract from any sort of hero's welcome. 

"What the...?" Lois spoke from beside him, just as Perry reached 
them in full shout. 

"Where in tarnation have you been, son?"

Clark's jaw dropped open. Something was... wrong, very wrong. 
"Where have I been? Me?" 

"You see any other super men around here?" The Chief who 
wasn't... quite right... seized him by the arm and pulled him 
along. "We've had a group waiting since noon. Had this 
reservation for over a year. And believe me, they don't want a 
Perry White or a Jimmy Olsen. It was Superman or nobody." 

"Who are you?" Lois snapped from beside him, her heels sliding on 
the floor as they moved in the man's wake. Clark slipped an arm 
around her waist to steady her, still letting himself be pulled 
by... whoever this was. He had no idea what else to do. 

The man who definitely was not Perry turned toward her, noticing 
her for the first time. He blinked hard and slammed them all to a 
halt. "Great shades! You're the best I've seen yet, honey! Your 
group just left with Cat Grant, but you can catch up with them 
and send her back here. She's very popular with the lonely 
businessmen on their lunch break," he added with a chuckle. "They 
started in the usual place." 

"The usual place?" Lois threw Clark a look that had to match the 
one on his own face. Complete and utter confusion. 

"What is going on here?" Clark asked, trying to sound stern and 
unflappable, the way he imagined he should sound. And not how he 
felt, which was as if someone had injected cold water into his 
veins. 

"Oh, cripes. You're brand new?" The man who absolutely, most 
definitely was not Perry wasn't pleased with this. With an 
impatient sigh he pointed Lois towards a hallway. "The DF wing is 
that way. The most important thing you need to remember is that 
you can't cut any corners or gloss over the details. People like 
to hear the whole saga." 

"The DF wing?" Lois scowled. "The whole saga? What is going on 
here? I don't understand--" 

"That's two of us," Clark cut-in fervently.

"-- and I'm not budging until you tell me," Lois finished.

"Since when did Casting start sending you people down here 
without training?" Not Perry thundered in an impressive imitation 
of the genuine one. "The DF wing," he huffed. "The Dysfunctional 
Family Wing. Lois Lane's history. Just give them the spill: 
absent, unfaithful father, bitter alcoholic mother, flighty 
sister, cold as ice ace reporter..." 

Beside him, Clark felt Lois flinch and begin to tremble. He 
pulled her a little closer. He didn't have an iota of an idea 
what was happening. But he recognized that something in what this 
stranger had said in some way resonated with Lois. And that she 
was trying desperately to hide it. 

Lois Lane's history, indeed.

"Now just a minute," he spoke in a low, controlled voice, trying 
to find some sort of footing to work from, wishing desperately 
everything would slow down for a second, give him a chance to 
think. "Watch what you say and how you say it. Whatever this is, 
I'm sure this isn't necessary." 

Not Perry raised his eyes heavenward, as if seeking guidance. 
"Isn't necessary? Believe me, it is. Otherwise they'll all leave 
here debating why she didn't love him like he did her right away. 
Whether or not she was even worth the time and effort. We tried 
to leave it out, at the request of the family, but the Luthor 
cage exhibit really put them off her without it. It's simple 
psychology, son."  

With that he clapped Clark on the back and gave Lois a gentle 
push in the direction he had pointed. "Off you go, Lois. Don't 
worry. It's really much easier than it sounds. Just remember, 
you're aloof, tough as nails, nothing gets to you." 

Lois swallowed. "Right," she said faintly. "Nothing gets to me."

"Lois, wait. We shouldn't split up."

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this," she said simply. And 
with her shoulders thrown back and her head held high she marched 
across the lobby, through the yellow doors, and deep into her 
life history. If what the man beside him had said was true, and 
really, Clark knew it couldn't be. Still... 

"I need to go with her," he protested as Not Perry started them 
moving again. "I don't know what this is, but--" 

He stopped. 

He had been led straight into a crowd of people. They gathered 
around, expectant looks on their faces. Clark took a startled 
step backward, only to find the false Chief directly behind him, 
blocking his way. 

"Here he is, folks. Sorry for the delay. I understand Superman 
had some saving to do this morning. What was it, son?" he asked 
with a cheery smile. "Train derail? Warehouse fire? Cloned bank 
robbers?" 

From around him the sounds of laughter rang out. The group closed 
in. Leaned in. Listening. 

"Prometheus," Clark said weakly, working off the Chief's pointed 
glare, knowing he needed to say... something. "I had to--" 

"Rescue the colonists's transport!" everyone shouted in unison, 
rocking him back on his heels and nearly sending him dashing for 
the exit. 

Not Perry clapped both hands on his shoulders now, holding him in 
place, whether he knew it or not. "Well, good you could find the 
time to join us. Ladies and gentlemen, your guide for the day... 
Superman."  

Who? 

Clark felt himself go weak in the knees. He shook his head in an 
attempt to clear it. What was this? What... on earth... was 
this? 

With a final wave, the false Chief turned to leave. Clark lunged 
for him, pitching his voice low. "Wait. I don't know what to do. 
There's been a mistake." 

"Amateurs," was the muttered reply. "You're in the Krypton wing. 
It's just holograms. When the lights come on, push the buttons. 
Nothing to it. And remember, you are Superman. Stay in character 
whatever happens. And absolutely no kissing." 

"No... k-kissing?" 

"Some of the ladies will try. Especially when you get to the baby 
in spaceship part. Heartbreaking. But no touching, no kissing; 
that's an iron clad rule. The family won't hear of it any other 
way. You are a one woman man. These people know that, they just 
need reminding, sometimes."  

Clark cast a wary glance at the women in his group, young and 
old. Surely, it was just his imagination. He currently didn't 
know down from up. But they seemed to be.... eyeing him... as if 
he was on today's lunch menu.  

"A one woman man?" he repeated back to Not Perry, but he was 
gone, hustling across the lobby to greet the next group of 
people. 

Clark turned back to his group, forcing himself to make eye 
contact, to smile a stiff smile to cover his total panic. 

"So..." He cleared his throat when his voice cracked slightly. 
"Who wants to see the Krypton wing?" 

***

Chapter Two

She wouldn't cry. And she wouldn't kill him. Not yet. Not until 
she figured out how he had done this. First, she would find him, 
and work out what sort of head trick he was playing on her. What 
kind of alien powers built an entire... wing ... dedicated to her 
utter humiliation. And then forced her to play the part of... 
herself... and watch it. 

Lois shook her head on that last thought. It sounded even crazier 
when put that way. But that is precisely what had happened. She 
had been one of a host of Loises. An impersonator, a tour guide 
through her painful life history. 

Of all the twisted, evil-minded...

Once she had some answers, she would take him apart. Rend him 
handsome, muscle bound limb from handsome, muscle bound limb. 

She had felt sorry for him. In the park, after their crash, she 
had thought him to be some kind of innocent in need of a 
protector. 

God. 

Lois covered her mouth and stopped in her tracks just long enough 
to stifle the hysterical laughter that wanted to burst out. She 
took deliberate, slow breaths. Steadied herself. 

Calm. She needed to be calm. Methodical. He was obviously a 
brilliant actor if he was able to slip under her bad guy radar as 
neatly as he had. He was, also, obviously much more than simply 
strong and able to fly. He could control minds and distort 
reality and even... recreate a person's past.  

There was no other explanation. He hadn't missed a thing. The 
Lane Family wing, as she preferred to call it- and had insisted, 
through gritted teeth and not so veiled threats, the groups with 
her call it, as well- was so accurate it amazed her. It had 
details even she had forgotten. Things she had thought she had 
out grown, that couldn't hurt her any more. All there. All on 
display through some sort of computer generated... something. She 
didn't know what to call it, just that it was highly advanced. 
Obviously it had come from the very space pod he had assured her 
he didn't have. 

Was she his only victim? Or was he doing this all over? To 
reporters, maybe? Trying to stifle the media? 

Again Lois stopped and took a closer look at her surroundings. 
The building had emptied out long ago when the announcement for 
closing time had been made. Along with the call for all cast 
members to return their costumes before leaving. 

Cast members. This was quite a production. She had to hand it to 
him. He'd certainly gone all out. 

She started forward again, the hideous blue carpet muffling her 
steps.  

He was still here somewhere; she knew he had to be. Why would he 
leave? He would want to stay and wait for her to return to him- 
shaken, humiliated, begging him not to expose her skeleton-filled 
closet. Promising him allegiance and anything else. 

The thing was, without any of this, he had had her. She had 
believed his Nice Guy from Outer Space Come to Save crap. She had 
bought it hook, line, and sinker, and before he had swept her 
down the rabbit hole, she'd been ready to write a story that 
would present him in the most flattering light possible. 

God.

Lois stopped again and swallowed hard around the tightness in her 
chest. Steady. Calm. He needed to think he had her under his 
spell. And she needed him to think it so she could figure out her 
next move. What to do from here. Who to call. How to get the 
Daily Planet put back as it was supposed to be.  

She found him right away. Sitting in the very first place she 
checked. The first hallway to the left. She eyed the gold 
lettering over the doors: ‘Krypton Wing.' It bore his likeness 
just as everything did, and underneath it the words ‘A Gift from 
the Stars.' 

She rolled her eyes. Was that conceited enough for him?

He was just sitting in there, in the dark. Much as she had been 
doing for the last few hours. His eyes were fixed on one of those 
glowing hologram thingies she hadn't been able to figure out. His 
ridiculous red cape was a mass of wrinkles around him. And he 
must have heard her coming-- he had to have heard her-- because 
he looked for all the world like the loneliest guy on the 
planet. 

It was a good effect. A great pose. And it would have convinced 
someone else. But he had no idea who he had picked to mess with. 
He would, though. Soon enough. She'd make sure of that. 

"I want to go home," she told him, deciding to force his hand. If 
his plan was to keep her here, under his control in this crazy 
place, he was going to have to give himself away right now. 
Because she was going to leave, otherwise. Simple as that. 

"Me too," he said softly, his brown, troubled eyes meeting hers 
for a meltingly long minute. "And now I know where that is. Or... 
was." 

He was good. She gave him that much.

"Well, see you later, then," she said briskly, spinning around to 
leave. 

Just as she expected, he rose to his feet hurriedly. "Wait," he 
called. "You're...? Where are you going, Lois? We need to... be 
together, I think." 

"Oh, you do, do you?" She turned and spat the words at him. So 
much for calm and methodical. That wasn't how she did things 
anyway. Head first, damn the torpedoes. That's what had always 
worked for her. "Am I not humiliated enough for you? Did you want 
to see me... naked? Crying? Begging you not to tell my secrets to 
anyone? Did you think you could embarrass me into keeping quiet? 
Because you can't. You won't. You will have to kill me first." 
She hissed each word for emphasis, letting all the venom that had 
built up over the very long day bleed into them. "I'm going to 
tell the world about you," she said softly, deadly serious. "And 
if you stop me, then someone else will. Don't think getting rid 
of one reporter will do the trick for you. And don't think that 
getting rid of hundreds of reporters will do it either. The truth 
is bigger than that. The truth finds a way. The truth-" 

"What did they do to you, Lois?" he asked in agonized tones. 
Again, very effective if you didn't know better. "I should have 
come with you, shouldn't have let Perry separate us when we 
didn't know what was going on." 

"Ah ha!" She moved towards him, waving her finger in his face 
triumphantly. Maybe he was going to kill her, but she was going 
to have her say. "That was *not* Perry, and if you're pretending 
that it was, then you are a part of this. This is *your* doing. 
*Your* twilight zone. And I'm not buying, space boy. You hear me? 
Not! Buying!" 

He faltered. One hand moved to scrub through his hair, as the 
other reached for her, almost in supplication. She slapped his 
hand away, then winced because it was like hitting concrete. She 
slapped his hand again, though, when he reached with apology on 
his face, as if sorry she'd been hurt.  

"I'm going home," she said between clenched teeth. "And if you 
know what's good for you, you'll let me." 

He didn't move. Didn't try to stop her. She checked just once, 
tossing a cautious look over her shoulder to make sure she was, 
indeed, making the get away that she seemed to be making. She 
pushed open the lobby doors and stepped out onto the peaceful, 
dark streets of her city. 

Back in her element. Back in reality. Away from him and his house 
of evil... or whatever. 

She ran. Flat out. Full speed, shoes in her hand, lungs aching. 
At this time of night there were no pedestrians. No one to hinder 
her. And she wanted her legs to put as much distance as possible 
between that place and her, between her past and now. Between his 
soulful, apologetic brown eyes and what she really knew him to 
be. 

She had survived it. She was Lois Lane. That was what she did. 
But what a day. What a story. She would go home and start 
writing. She ignored the voice inside her telling her that even 
if she did, she had no place to send the story. He had... warped 
the Daily Planet. First things first. She would get it all down. 
And then come back in the morning and see what things were like. 
If, as she suspected, he was practicing some sort of mind 
control, then maybe all she needed to do was get away from him. 
Sleep it off. Then in the morning the...hallucination or 
illusion...would be broken.  

A rustle of wind, a breeze which blew her hair, brought her from 
her thoughts, reminding her how shaky her legs where. She slowed 
just a touch. Checking her progress. Checking over her 
shoulder... 

She screamed. A full throated cry of pure despair and terror was 
ripped from her and she would have run straight into a lamp post 
if he hadn't grabbed her shoulders and steered her around it. 

She lost it. "No! No! Leave me alone! Don't.... don't!!"

"I'm not going to hurt you! I'm not! I'm not," he said when she 
drew a breath long enough to stop yelling. He held his hands up 
in surrender, but continued to keep pace with her three feet off 
the ground. "I swear, Lois. I swear I won't touch you again. 
Won't force you anywhere. Wouldn't hurt you for all the world." 

His voice cracked on that last hurried promise and she stopped, 
doubling over, sucking in air. Running was useless anyway when he 
could move like that. She hated herself but she started to cry. A 
rough, choking cry because she was so exhausted she could barely 
stand. 

"Let me take you home," he pleaded in a low voice, keeping his 
distance from her. "Let me. I'll take you home and we'll see if 
it's...I don't know...the same... or different like the Daily 
Planet...My God." Now he sounded on the verge of tears. She 
looked up at him through blurry eyes, and couldn't tell if his 
were watery, also, or if that was just her imagination.  

Or part of what he wanted her to think.

She jerked around and continued walking. "No." 

He didn't argue. "Ok. I'm going to sit right here, Lois." He 
pointed to a bench along the sidewalk. "Here. At the corner of-- 
" He glanced at the street signs. "-- Sunny Street and Happy 
Way," he read, his eyebrows rising into his hairline.  

She turned and glared at him. "You aren't funny."

He shook his head. "There's nothing funny about this. I just want 
you to know I'll be sitting right here. I won't go anywhere. If 
you need me, you can just call. I'll hear you. But I won't come 
otherwise. I won't bother you, all right?" 

She watched him as he sat down slowly. Crossing his long legs at 
the ankles and resting his arms along the back of the bench. 
Looking like a guy who was waiting for a bus and nothing more. 
There wasn't anything about him that spoke of menace. 

He was good. Really good.

"Fine." She didn't have the strength to say anything more. She 
was spent. She wouldn't write tonight after all. She would just 
go home, shower, and fall into the bed. With any luck she'd be 
too tired to dream. And in the morning, she'd deal with things. 

She limped off down the street, looking back at various intervals 
until she rounded the corner out of sight. At last glance he was 
still sitting there, illuminated by a single street light, 
watching her go. 

***

He didn't have to wait long for her to return. It took every 
ounce of control in him not to stand and go to meet her when he 
heard her coming. Her heart was beating painfully fast and her 
soft, jerking sobs ripped straight through him. Clark closed his 
eyes and held himself still. He didn't want to scare her any more 
than she already was. 

And she was terrified. He could only imagine what she had found 
when she had gone looking for the comfort of her home. The 
familiarity of her apartment, her bed, her things. 

None of them would have been there, if he had guessed correctly. 
Because nothing about this place, wherever they were, was as it 
should be. The Daily Planet and Centennial Park were in the right 
locations. As were all the buildings in sight. But everything 
else about them was... wrong. Their architecture was subtly 
altered. And while he hadn't budged from his bench, keeping his 
word to Lois, he had x-rayed as far up and down the city blocks 
as his eyes could see. 

And that was far. 

They weren't alone, despite how it looked. There was absolutely 
no traffic on the street, no pedestrians, but the city was as 
crowded as Metropolis always was. It was the dead of night and 
everyone was home and apparently relaxing, some sleeping, others 
going about their business. He knew because he had looked, had 
seen into countless apartments. 

Nothing in the city was open, which was odd. The only light was 
the one he was sitting under. Motion sensitive. It had turned on 
when he walked by, and since he was still here, it still shone. 
He had noted the technology when Lois had stomped up the street. 
Lights had flickered on and off in her wake. 

None of the stores seem to cater to a night crowd. No bars. No 
clubs. No hang-outs. And there was absolutely no one hanging out. 
Another oddity. Not even some poor down-on-his-luck guy looking 
through the dumpsters.  

There were no dumpsters. And the streets were so clean. So 
unMetropolis like. 

Lois would have noticed all of that by now, on her long walk 
back, he was sure of it. Just as he had, when he was alone enough 
and still enough to let it register. The street names were the 
least of the changes. 

They weren't home. They were... somewhere very, very far from 
home. And how they had gotten here and what they would do now, he 
couldn't even begin to fathom. But first, before anything, he 
needed to gain her trust. To assuage some of her fears. Her 
primary one. That he was responsible for this. 

He felt a twist in his gut, a hard ache at the very thought. Who 
could blame her? He certainly didn't. But he needed her to get 
past it. He needed Lois Lane on his side, working with him, if 
they were going to get a handle on what was happening. 

Because he was clueless. And just as scared as she was.

Her breathing had evened out. She had stopped crying. Trying to 
pull herself together to put on a brave, no doubt, defiant face 
for his sake. So he wouldn't see that he had broken her.  

Again he felt a clench in his heart, similar to the one he'd felt 
on their first meeting. She was something else. He smiled 
slightly, despite the circumstances. He was lucky to be stuck 
here with her. He just wished he could convince her to feel the 
same. 

***

"What have you done to... everything?" she said wearily, plopping 
down on the bench next to him. 

"This wasn't me," he answered simply.

"Right," she said, closing her eyes and leaning her head back on 
the bench. His arm was still there, but she didn't bother to 
recoil. She was too tired for that. She just needed five minutes 
of shut eye and then... 

No. She had no idea what then, she finally admitted to herself. 
None whatsoever. Hadn't someone said things always look better in 
the morning? She remembered that dimly. The sun will come out 
tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day. Joy comes in the morning. 
Stupid stuff like that. 

Well, she would just put that to the test, wouldn't she? Morning 
had a lot of work to do to straighten this tangle out. She 
yawned. She could feel him looking at her, but she couldn't seem 
to get her eyelids open so she could glare at him. She just 
thought a glare in his direction. If he was mind reader, that 
could work.  

She sank into blessed blackness, letting it come and envelope 
her, wrap her in warm, steady arms and carry her away as if on a 
current of air.  

Ok, morning, do your best.

***

She woke on a hard floor in an enormous room she didn't 
recognize. She lay on her back studying the ceiling for an extra 
minute. It dipped sharply at the sides, had exposed beams which, 
from her angle, looked like the bones of a ship upside down. It 
looked ancient, but sturdy. 

She sat up stiffly. Morning had come, and she was ready for the 
part where it all seemed better somehow. She was obviously in 
some sort of attic. She looked down, aware of the warm, red silk 
that was tucked around her. She threw it off and untangled her 
legs. 

"Here," said a quiet voice from behind her. She was on her knees, 
but she moved quickly to face him. He was sitting against the 
wall not far from her and he had obviously been watching her 
sleep. "It's coffee." He held up a steaming mug. "I thought you 
might..." He shrugged, set it down close to her and moved away. 

She picked it up tentatively. She did operate better with a 
little caffeinated assistance. And if ever there was a morning 
when she needed it... 

As long as it wasn't drugged.

She sniffed it experimentally.

He noticed, and for some reason a smile spread over his face. 
When she started to sip, he sat back down, as if they had both 
passed some sort of test. "I reheated that a few times, so I hope 
it's still good." 

It was. Better than any she had ever tasted, actually. She just 
wasn't going to tell him that. 

"Lois." His voice dropped to a serious tone. "Just hear me out, 
please? There was a man named Tempus-" 

She choked. Her coffee seared its way down as she coughed and 
sputtered. He stepped towards her cautiously, only moving to give 
her a gentle thump on the back when she nodded vigorously.  

"Should have waited until you swallowed," he said with some 
chagrin.  

"You think?" she wheezed.

"Then... you do remember?" She couldn't miss the desperate hope 
in the question. 

"He had... a... ring... or something," she said with a frown, 
trying to concentrate. 

 He practically melted into the floor, relief falling from him in 
waves she could almost see. "I remember the ring, too." He 
grabbed for her hand and moved next to her. "And he wasn't alone. 
There were others there, trying to stop him." 

"He called one of them Andrus." She closed her eyes, seeing the 
scene float hazily in front of her, trying to picture exactly 
where everyone had been standing. "How could we both forget 
that?" 

"I don't know. Tempus obviously activated something that brought 
us here. Maybe amnesia is a part of it." 

"When did you remember?" She turned to face him, glancing at the 
hand that still held hers tightly. "And... I'm sorry. For what I 
said. For what I thought--" 

"Don't." He cut her off with a shake of his head. "It's not 
necessary. How could you think otherwise? It came to me sometime 
after you fell asleep. Just sort of filtered through in bits and 
pieces. Almost like watching a movie. A really, really confusing 
movie." 

"A Fellini film."

"Very Fellini-esque. And at some point it all fit together and I 
remembered.... most if it, anyway. I had come back to meet you at 
EPRAD. We haggled over the interview. Then we were interrupted by 
a bunch of characters who knew us but we didn't know them. They 
argued. And then... zap." 

"Zap? It was more like Zzzzt."

He laughed, squeezing her hand. "I hoped that when you woke up, 
you would remember on your own. Or if not, if because I'm 
different I could remember what you couldn't, then maybe I could 
talk you into believing me." 

"So the coffee was a bribe," she said, arching her brow at him.

"You bet," he agreed. "And plenty more where that came from."

"Where did this come from? And where are we?"

He shifted a bit uncomfortably. "I didn't know where to go last 
night when you fell asleep out there. So, I just picked you up 
and brought you back here. This is the Daily Planet. The top 
floor. It isn't used. None of the higher floors are. And since 
it's kind of the epicenter of the weirdness, I thought we should 
be here." 

"Makes sense. And the coffee?"

"Swiped it from the employee lounge downstairs." He blushed. "I 
know we aren't *technically* employees, but yesterday everyone 
seemed to think we were, so..." 

"They thought we were or they wanted us to think they thought 
that," she countered. "Did you notice the other guys dressed like 
you? The ones dressed like Perry? You should have seen the Cat 
Grant look-alikes." 

He nodded. "Something really... strange is going on here. And... 
I can't imagine what." 

"We should stay here today," she said. "Act as if we work here 
for real and do a bit of investigating. I'd like to get my hands 
on the person who came up with the life and times of Lois Lane 
exhibit." 

"I don't know," he said gently. "Maybe there's another way? Are 
you really up for another day in the... DF wing? Pretending we're 
pretending to be ourselves? I'm not sure I am." 

"It's now the Lane Family wing. And yes, I'm up for it. I was too 
distracted by everything yesterday. And completely focused on you 
being the culprit. I didn't dig any deeper." She paused and took 
another sip. "Rookie mistake." 

"The weird stuff isn't contained within these walls, though," he 
argued. "You saw the city last night. And... your apartment..." 
He hesitated. "Was it... still there?" 

"It was." She smiled grimly. "Looking nicer than I've seen it. I 
had no idea that building could look like that. But when I tried 
to go in..." She scowled, remembering last night's mad dash to 
the doors, her one goal the safety and normalcy of her home. 

"Different locks?" he guessed. "Different tenants?"

"No locks whatsoever. It was roped off. It's some sort of 
landmark. Shown by appointment only." 

"We are definitely not home."

"We aren't, are we? But how? And why, for that matter?" 

"Maybe we find out today," he said, and she recognized he was 
trying to cheer her, cheer them both, maybe. "We go with your 
plan and play along for the morning. Which means it's back to 
Krypton for me." He rose to his feet and reached for his cape. 

"Is Krypton the name of your planet?" 

"Yeah," he said. "I saw it yesterday. Saw some... really amazing 
stuff actually." 

She remembered how he had looked when she found him the previous 
evening. That hadn't been an act, then. He had clearly been moved 
by what he had seen. And maybe as shaken as she'd been.  

"Was it stuff you had...bad memories of?" she asked carefully, 
finger combing her hair from her face and glancing around for her 
shoes. 

He handed them to her. "No. It was stuff I had no memory of. 
There was so much about me, about my origins that I never knew, 
Lois. And it was all there. In that one wing. Every answer to 
every question I ever asked myself, and more that I didn't even 
think to ask." 

"You should be careful, then." She put her shoes on and tried to 
brush the dust from her suit jacket. She would definitely visit 
the cast locker rooms today. Find a change of clothes. "Tempus 
brought us here for a reason. He has an agenda. That wing is 
probably an attempt to manipulate you, a lie. You can't trust 
it." 

"Was the Lane Family wing a lie?" he asked her seriously, his 
eyes searching hers. "Was that what upset you so much? Were there 
things in there about your family, things that weren't true, that 
hurt you?" 

She blew out a deep breath. "Actually, no. Whoever Tempus is, he 
got it exactly right." 

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "It's all in the past. Mostly. And apparently, it's 
all in the Lane Family wing. Did you look anyplace else 
yesterday?" 

"I didn't." He looked embarrassed. "Eventually my group got tired 
of waiting on me and struck out on their own. I was just... 
frozen there. I couldn't read enough, couldn't watch enough. 
Couldn't take it all in well enough. Basically, I walked ten 
paces into that room and never moved again." 

"So, Tempus contained us rather successfully yesterday," Lois 
said thoughtfully. "We probably did exactly what he wanted us to 
do." 

He pushed the door open. It swung on rusty hinges, emitting a 
piercing squeal. "We walked in under our own power yesterday. No 
one forced us. And we left unchallenged, too. Those were all our 
choices." 

"What we thought were our choices," she said as she jogged down 
the long stairwell. "Maybe they weren't. Here's our plan. You 
work your room and I'll work mine. We talk to as many employees 
as we can. See if we can find out who pays them, how long they've 
been here, what they were told when they were hired." 

"They might all be in on this," he cautioned.

"More than likely. But if so, they'll all have the same basic 
story and that's a give-away, too. Trust me, I've done this 
before." 

"You've led tours of your life history while impersonating 
yourself? Great. Because I'm a little green at this." 

"Cute," she said through gritted teeth.

"Sorry, keep going."

"Talk to the visitors who come in and out. Ask them where they're 
from, how long they've been in town, what their favorite part of 
Metropolis is. Or if they live in Metropolis, pretend you're new 
in town..." 

"No need to pretend there."

"...and ask some general ‘what is there to do here?' type 
questions." 

"Right."

"You never know what piece of information will break everything 
open, so pay attention to everything. We'll meet back in a couple 
hours, compare notes. That's about all I'm going to be able to 
stand anyway." 

"Sounds like a plan, partner."

She halted on the stair just below him and he nearly crashed into 
her. "What did you just say?" she demanded. 

"Uh," he said a bit thickly. "I, uh, hadn't mentioned, Lois. And 
actually, I wasn't sure it was strictly necessary, but I'm--" 

"Staff meeting has already started guys!" called a bright-eyed 
kid as he sailed past them. "New schedules are up on the board. 
New assignments by request only. If you're late, have a good 
excuse ready." 

Well, he wasn't Jimmy Olsen, but his timing wasn't the only thing 
eerily familiar about him.  

"Some things are universal," Lois said, moving to follow the cub 
reporter look-alike. "Let's go find some answers. I'd really like 
to sleep in my own bed tonight." 

***

It had been twenty-four hours and Madge was starting to fear the 
worst. 

"He said he hadn't killed them," Hank reminded her kindly, his 
steady grey eyes on her as she circled her desk for the hundredth 
time. 

"I know," Madge said around the lead weight in her heart. "Check 
the vitals for me once more, would you, Petal?" 

Obediently, and with an airy, bemused smile meant to indicate she 
was humoring her, Madge's other assistant, Petal, moved to the 
cabinet which housed instruments known only to a very few who 
worked in the building. 

That the instruments even existed would be enough to create panic 
among the citizens of their world. That they had to exist because 
Tempus did, would only cause more upheaval. Utopia's lifelines 
were carefully monitored, and had been ever since it had been 
shown necessary for the community's very survival. 

If you were to ask an average citizen on the street what he or 
she imagined the Ministry of Helpers and Peacekeepers really did, 
the answer would be vague, or none at all. In a society that was 
entirely peaceful, where everyone prided themselves on being 
helpful, the Ministry no doubt seemed unnecessary. Quaint, even. 

In fact, for most of the populace the Ministry was nothing more 
than an outdated bureaucracy that had resorted to selling 
excellent baked goods to keep its idle employees in pensions. 
That had been Madge's predecessor's idea. When others had voted 
to hide the building, cloak it from outside eyes so as not to 
arouse even an inking of suspicion over what went on inside, 
Odias Sinders had loudly declared that no one, not one person, 
ever felt uneasy or threatened by baked goods. Their smell 
reminded everyone of home and hearth and mother. All the good 
things and none of the bad. 

So, with simple, unimpressive architecture and a central location 
in the heart of Utopian Metropolis as part of the disguise, as 
well as a gourmet bakery in the front, the Ministry of Helpers 
and Peacekeepers existed unnoted. Except on Wednesdays, which was 
two-for-one donut day. 

Behind the bakery and past the kitchens sat a small building 
lined in lead. A left-over safeguard from previous generations, 
when there had still been Lane-Kents with x-ray vision among 
them.  

Of course the Lane-Kents were all known to be unfailingly honest. 
But the thinking at the time had been there was no sense risking 
the family finding out what really happened behind those walls, 
especially as it was their fate, in particular, which depended on 
the work done inside. 

And it wasn't just the building that housed secrets. Those who 
worked there did, too. They had all taken vows of silence on 
certain subjects. They were all sworn to protect Utopia from a 
madman. And they were almost all pleasantly plump from 
two-for-one donut days. 

Every morning Madge kissed her husband Fredrick goodbye at their 
door. He knew where she was going and the administrative title 
she held. But the rest of it, the losing the founders of Utopia 
and thereby endangering their very existence part, well, she 
hadn't mentioned it over breakfast that morning. Or any morning. 
Ever. 

"It all looks good," Petal said, smiling her serene smile and 
moving back to her work. 

Madge would miss her. Petal and her kindness. Hank and his 
loyalty. Anna and her coffee.  

But she was expecting a call from upstairs at any time. And an 
entire day later she still had nothing new to report. Tempus had 
been dealt with. Again. She could have sworn that man enjoyed the 
many ways and places they thought to exile him. 

There was a committee that worked round the clock brainstorming 
just that very thing. The Places to Drop Tempus Safely committee, 
or PDTS, had been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night 
and told to get to work.  

Madge hoped that this latest one took. And that in time Tempus 
would grow restless enough to talk to her.  

"Where is Tempus now?" she fretted to Hank and Petal. She was 
forgetting. "USA, eighteen century asylum?" 

"No, Madge," said Hank softly. "That was a few crimes ago. PDTS 
put him in..." Hank found the folder right on top of her desk, 
just where she had put it down. Madge sat. She was tired. Tired 
and not thinking. This was not good. "... Prehistoric North 
America. The Dakotas, to be exact. Tough winters, but plenty of 
game to sustain him. And maybe when it gets cold enough, he'll 
feel more like chatting." 

"And those lifelines?" Madge repeated.

This time Petal's patient smile seemed forced. "I just told 
you." 

"Check again, dear, please."

She kept her eyes closed to avoid seeing the long look she knew 
Petal and Hank were exchanging.  

"Coffee," said the lovely Anna, entering the room. 

"Bless you," Madge told her.

"The levels have dropped," Petal said, her voice cracking. "Just 
in the last two minutes." 

Madge sat back and sipped on her coffee. She wasn't surprised. 
This is what she had been waiting for. "Call upstairs," she said 
to Hank, who was standing, frozen, staring at the monitors. "And 
see if they can find that damned Wells." 

She had cursed. 

Anna, Hank, and Petal all turned startled faces in her direction, 
pale and shaky, pupils dilated. Poor kids. First the dip in the 
lifelines and now this. "Sorry," she said, smiling brightly. "I 
read that word somewhere. Seemed appropriate for just this 
situation." 

"Hell, yeah," said Hank, moving to make the call.

***

A fast trip to the cast locker room had been exactly what Lois 
needed. More coffee. Some kind of pastry that was so good she'd 
stopped in the middle of her first bite long enough to stuff a 
second pastry into her coat pocket. She rolled her eyes at the 
small ‘Take Only One. A Sharing Community is a Well Fed 
Community.' sign some weirdo had placed on the buffet. 

She darted into the showers, wishing for shampoo or a toothbrush, 
but grateful for what she could get- hot water and some slivers 
of soap left drying in the dish. She toweled off and headed 
through the door that said ‘Costumes, Lois Lane.' If she hadn't 
been nearly naked, she would have taken a minute to rummage 
through the Cat Grant closet. She could only imagine... 

Finding a fairly nice suit and pair of shoes in the right size, 
she hustled into them. False Jimmy's message that the staff 
meeting was already under way spurred her to move quickly. She 
didn't want to miss the opportunity to see all the people who 
worked here assembled in one place. So far there were Perrys, 
Cats, Lois Lanes, and, of course, Superman. 

She gave that name some thought as she hurriedly dried her hair 
and helped herself to the some of the cosmetics strewn about. "A 
sharing community..." she muttered. 

The man she was on this little acid trip with hadn't called 
himself Superman, ever. But the woman back at EPRAD had. The guy 
pretending to be Perry had. And the name, along with his 
likeness, was certainly plastered all over the building. It was 
the height of ostentatious. The real man was anything but. Still, 
it fit. Superman. She liked it. She was just having some trouble 
matching it to the person she was here with. The way he had 
cringed at the statue, nearly dropped dead at first sight of the 
lobby. He had told her he didn't want to be famous. He only 
wanted to help and nothing more... 

That wasn't really working for him, was it?

Pulling the second pastry from her coat pocket, she gobbled it 
down as she headed towards the main room in the back. She would 
have this all figured out by lunch time. Lois Lane was on the 
case. 

***

So were a lot of other Lois Lanes. They sat and stood all around 
the conference room. All with the same shade of brown hair as 
hers, but the lengths and styles varied, as did their ages. Each 
of them bore some resemblance to her. Enough to give the illusion 
of being Lois Lane. But no one looked exactly like her except, 
well, her. She noticed the glances of approval and welcome as she 
looked around.  

Lois gave herself a full minute to take it in. To just... soak up 
the weirdness so she could get over it and think clearly. She 
took a head count. A dozen Loises, including her. Five Cats, all 
underdressed, as would be expected. Way too many Jimmys, but then 
she had always found just the one to be too much. And as for 
Superman... 

Six. All with the tall, dark, and handsome thing going on. All 
looked like they spent several hours in the gym each day. But the 
real one, the one she had come here with, was easy to 
distinguish. For one thing, he was smiling at her from where he 
leaned against the wall on the far side of the room. And 
secondly, his Suit just seemed to... fit him. Not that the others 
weren't dressed in exactly the same thing. Still, her Superman-- 
Lois colored a little at the sound of that, though he hadn't 
really given her anything else to call him-- looked more... 
super. 

She pulled her eyes away from his. She didn't really want to give 
him the chance to read her mind... not that she still believed he 
could do that. 

Three Perrys. The one from yesterday who was leading the meeting. 
And two more seated around the table, practicing their scowls and 
their Elvis impersonations, from what it looked like. 

The door flew open, nearly knocking into her. "Sorry," stammered 
the late comer, moving around her and into the room. 

She stared at him. Couldn't place who he was supposed to be. When 
she raised an inquiring eyebrow at her Superman, though, she was 
surprised to see that his jaw had tightened and he was looking 
decidedly uneasy. 

"What?" she mouthed to him, but he wasn't watching her. His gaze 
was following the newcomer all the way to his seat. 

"Wardrobe wasn't ready for us this morning," offered the guy she 
couldn't place, fumbling with his glasses.  

Fumbling with...? Hey!

"We'll all be coming along in just a minute."

And they did. Ten of them marched into the room in sheepish 
single file. Tousled dark hair, brown, slightly dopey eyes, ties 
that should have been grounds to have them all arrested. The 
Clark Kent parade. 

Lois groaned. Even here, in this place, she couldn't get away 
from him. And so many of him. Nearly as many Clarks as Loises. 
Why would that be necessary? She would need to bring this to 
someone's attention. Once she figured out what this was, of 
course. 

Her Superman still looked shaken. Maybe the lack of sleep was 
catching up to him. She knew he hadn't closed his eyes last 
night. He had just sat and watched over her as she slept. 

The thought warmed her. And she smiled at him, she couldn't help 
it. As bizarre as this was, at least she had an ally. Someone she 
could brainstorm with. Someone she could trust.  

And since there was an entire wing in a museum dedicated to her 
trust issues, that was no small thing. 

***


One of the Clarks tripped past her on their way out of the 
meeting. She hurried over to her Superman. She really needed to 
think of something else to call him. "You find everything you 
needed this morning?"  

"Yeah. Shower and change. Although..." He looked down at himself 
ruefully. "The other Suits just didn't feel right, so I'm still 
in the same one. Had to wash and dry it in record time." 

"Did you see anything? Hear anything?" They all moved out into 
the lobby towards their assigned places. "By the way, I get the 
fake Bullpen today, so the Lane Family wing goes to another 
Lois." She pointed to a short haired, slightly older version of 
herself, studying the hairstyle critically. Not bad. "How weird 
was that sentence?"  

He chuckled. "I'm still on Krypton today, which is fine by me. At 
least I have some idea what I'm supposed to be doing." 

Lois turned and took a good look at the set up. "So, Krypton is 
first, just as people enter. That makes sense. It's your origin 
story. And then visitors move on to...where? The Lane Wing is on 
the opposite side, so some start with my story and some start 
with yours, maybe, but from there-" 

"I was thinking about that," he cut in softly. "The banners 
everywhere call this the, uh, Superman Museum." 

She grinned. She could hear how hard it was for him to say that 
casually. "Go on." 

"So, I get why my life story is here. Why *I'm* here." He 
gestured to the other caped heroes milling around. "But why you, 
Lois? Why all of this at the Daily Planet? Have you thought about 
it?" 

She shrugged. "Face it, you're the story of the century, and I'm 
the reporter who has an exclusive deal with you." She beamed at 
the thought. 

"But this isn't real, right?" he teased her gently. "You told me 
this morning we were being manipulated. Not to trust any of 
this." 

"Right," she agreed, sobering quickly. "No one but Tempus would 
know about our agreement, anyway. We are being played and we 
shouldn't fall for it, no matter how... attractive. But... you 
know... in Fantasy Land, or wherever we are, I'm still the 
reporter who scooped every reporter in the world!" 

"At least you're keeping it in perspective," he said solemnly, 
though she would have sworn his eyes twinkled. 

"And speaking of every reporter," she added darkly, watching 
another Clark Kent stumble past. "I can understand Perry being 
here. He's my editor. And Cat has certain... appeal. Jimmy takes 
decent pictures. But him?" 

"What's wrong with him?" her Superman said quickly.

"You don't know him. Or... not him... but who he represents. This 
barnacle I've been stuck with. A green horn from... get ready for 
this, you'll think I'm making it up..." 

‘Smallville, Kansas is unmanned,' a voice announced over the 
loudspeakers. ‘One Clark Kent to the Smallville Wing, please. One 
Clark Kent. Thank you.' 

"Oh, this is... not good," Superman muttered beside her, his face 
pained, one hand messing his hair. "Lois--" 

"He gets a wing?" Lois said. "What the hell! He's worked with me 
all of three days and he gets his own... Smallville? Well, we'll 
just see about that."  

She took off in the direction one of the Clark Kents had taken. 
She would need to see that wing for herself. And if it was more 
than a popsicle stand with the price of hay and cow feed written 
in crude lettering on it, there was going to be trouble. 

"Lois." Superman had followed her and was reaching for her hand. 
"We really need to--" 

"Back to Krypton, Supes." A Perry came between them. "Three 
minutes to opening. And this time, see if you can't lead them 
from there straight to Smallville, would you? Don't let them 
wander. Bad for traffic flow. When the planet explodes you just 
follow the spaceship to Schuster's Field. The path glows in the 
dark. It's easy." 

"Right," said Superman weakly. "I'll... do that."

Lois stopped trying to catch up with the Clark. She stopped 
trying to pull her hand from Superman's. 

She looked at him.

She looked back at Perry's double who was hustling away. At 
another Clark Kent who was chatting up a Cat Grant...  

"From Krypton to Smallville," she heard herself say aloud. 
"Interesting." 

His hand dropped from hers. His eyes closed. 

"Yeah," she said. "Now I get it."

***

They had to be in the future.

That's what he kept coming back to over the course of a very 
surreal morning. Or if not in the actual future, a really 
incredible facsimile. The technology in the Krypton wing was 
years beyond any he had ever seen. Decades and decades beyond it. 
Yesterday he had simply been too stupefied by what that 
technology conveyed to dwell on it. 

He thought back to the night before, flying over Metropolis, 
bringing the sleeping Lois to the attic. He had noticed things 
which now he couldn't explain any other way... but for time 
travel.  

Clark grimaced. Time travel. That was so clearly impossible.

Yes, the city had looked pretty much the same. But the cloud of 
pollution it wore like a hairnet had been gone. He hadn't felt 
air that pure outside of rural areas and home. The change was 
profound enough that despite everything else that had been 
happening at the time, he had noticed. 

Maybe the Clean Air Act, despite being gutted by the previous 
administration, was finally making some headway? That idea seemed 
as farfetched as time travel. More so. 

He should have investigated. Once he'd noticed the air, the 
deserted streets, the no litter thing, he could have taken a 
quick flight over the rest of the country, or overseas. Anywhere. 
Just to see if other places were as changed as this one. But he 
hadn't wanted to leave Lois alone. Not even for a second. And he 
hadn't wanted her waking in his arms, not in the state of mind 
she'd fallen asleep in. 

She would have jumped. Which is what she looked like she wanted 
to do right now. 

He had made a point of checking the newspaper when he'd come down 
at dawn to get her coffee. It bore the familiar Daily Planet 
logo, but there wasn't anything in it that could be considered 
news, just a ‘Welcome to the Superman Museum' headline, and not 
much else. It was nothing more than a souvenir. 

Though it did carry a date.

If he was inclined to believe it, he and Lois had landed two 
hundred years in the future. Metropolis's future. 

Which was, of course, impossible. Completely and absolutely... 
impossible.  

But... the woman who had tried to stop Tempus had said she was in 
charge of ‘time and space,' or something like that. Clark wished 
he could remember more of that conversation now. She'd said he 
wasn't to worry, that part was clear. The details would be looked 
after, and he was just to live his life.  

Did the ‘details' include Tempus and his beam?

And she had called him Superman. Just as everyone else here did.

Clark went over it once more. The statue in the park. Difficult 
to explain, considering that- by his time- he had made his debut 
just yesterday afternoon. And the Daily Planet had been turned 
into a sort of living museum in, what, less than twelve hours? 

It wasn't just an elaborate front or a Hollywood set. He had 
spent his short time before the staff meeting x-raying and 
eavesdropping everywhere. Searching for hidden doors, false 
walls. Bad guys in meetings. He had gotten a searing eyeful of 
the Cats in their dressing room. 

Clark flushed hotly at the memory. He hadn't had an accident like 
that since high school, but it *had* been an accident. And he had 
been much more careful after that. 

Everyone seemed legitimate. To be going about the business of 
impersonating him- in both his guises now- and those he worked 
with. And a few "I'm new. How long have you worked here?" 
inquiries in the locker room had earned him responses varying 
from three months to ten years. 

Ten years.

Of course, if all these people were in on whatever this was, 
that's exactly what they would say, wasn't it? They would all 
have different stories, carefully rehearsed. 

He hadn't seen any Martha or Jonathan look-alikes. Nor anyone 
else from his life before Metropolis. So, he had assumed that 
part was unknown. But now there was a wing for Smallville. A host 
of Clark Kents.  

A Schuster's Field.

Nope. The secret identity thing had definitely been blown along 
the way. 

Somewhere in his... past?

The circling thoughts were making him dizzy. There had to be 
another, simpler, less insane explanation. For the life of him, 
he just couldn't think of what it was. 

Right now, though, as much as he would like to run these ideas 
past Lois, he doubted she would be receptive. She had murder in 
her eyes, or something very close to it. And she had been staring 
at him, very quietly, for far too long. 

"I told you yesterday I didn't want to be laid bare for the world 
to see," he whispered to her. "Remember?" 

"You also said you didn't want fame," she hissed back.

"I didn't."

She took a long, theatrical look around. "Nice job."

"Can we table this? Please? Meet for lunch in the attic and 
discuss theories? I have one." 

"Oh, and I have one, too, Superman. And I'd like to discuss it 
now!" Her voice didn't actually shatter glass on that last word, 
just flirted with the possibility. 

"Please, Lois," he begged, because that seemed like the right 
thing to do. "Please understand. I wasn't trying to-" 

"Make an absolute fool of me?" she said in something shy of a 
yell. "I'm carrying on about Clark Kent like he's a piece of gum 
on the bottom of my shoe and you just stand there and let me?" 

"Oh," said one of the Perrys walking by. "Perfect. Very nice. 
Give the people what they came here for." 

"You are Clark Kent," Lois seethed, managing to make his name and 
identity sound like a curse of the worst kind. 

"That's right," he returned. "I am. I'm also the guy who saved 
your life yesterday." 
That drew a smattering of laughter from the crowd now entering 
the building, but he didn't take his eyes off hers. "Cool trick 
for a barnacle, huh?" he added completely unwisely. 

The laughter became snickers from the groups of tourists.

"Don't let him get away with it, Lois!" called one. "Get him."

Clark lowered his voice, knowing she was going to do exactly 
that. "You and I need to be on the same side here." 

"He was always confused," volunteered an older woman. "But only 
because he loved you at first sight." 

"Oh... god," Clark said.

"What?" said Lois, addressing the tourist.

"He loved you and wanted you to love him for his humble, farm boy 
self," someone called. 

"Which was a lie, actually." This was taken up with gusto by 
another spectator. "Because he was never just Clark Kent of 
Smallville, Kansas. He was always Kal-el of Krypton. It wasn't 
fair he didn't let her in on it." 

"And when was he supposed to do that? When she was cozying up to 
Luthor?" 

There were boos all around.

"Upstairs on our lunch break?" Clark interjected quickly, doing 
his best to make the crowd invisible. They didn't seem to need 
them now, anyway. 

"...or when she would have published her own grandmother's diary 
to get ahead?" 

"How about when she thought he was dead? That was a golden 
opportunity he let slip by." 

"Oh, geez," said a new voice. "Did we get a pre-revelation Lois 
and Clark? I had this scenario last time." 

"I love them pre-revelation. I think they're wonderful."

Not Perry moved into the center of the room. "Shall we get 
started? Those of you going with Superman, follow him. And those 
who want to see Lois, she'll be working the Bullpen." 

"Up in the attic," Lois snapped at him before turning and walking 
away. "And don't you dare be late... Clark." 

He was grateful. So very grateful. And more than a little 
frightened, if he was being honest. 


***

She swept into the Bullpen, seething. And by matter of habit went 
directly to her desk and checked the third drawer to see if there 
was enough chocolate to handle this latest plot twist in her 
life. 

She grabbed two bars and put them in her suit pockets, pretty 
sure she would need them later, and tore the paper off another 
one. 

"Hey, don't mess with the props!" chided a not quite Jimmy Olsen 
as he rushed by in a show of busyness. "Places. Group one on its 
way." 

Lois stopped, the bar midway to her mouth. Good Lord, but this 
place was weird. It was so easy to forget. She shoved the uneaten 
bar back in the drawer and slammed it closed. 

"A little too far into the role playing, huh?" The fake Jimmy 
grinned at her cheerfully. "We all do it. I've been Jimmy Olsen 
for three years now, and the words ‘Get it yourself' seem to have 
left my vocabulary." 

Lois nodded, swallowing roughly. Every time she felt like she was 
on some sort of solid ground, it would just give way suddenly, 
taking her down with it. She had slept for a few hours last night 
on the floor of the attic, but she was weary to the bone. And 
instead of figuring things out, she was more mired in questions 
than ever. 

Oddly enough there had been a sort of comfort in thinking 
that...Clark...was behind all this. That all the unexplainable 
things could be explained by the very fact that he was an alien. 

Her partner was an alien. 

The mouse of a guy who had stumbled along in her wake all last 
week was from outer space. 

"That at least makes sense," she muttered under her breath. 

But this wasn't his doing. She believed him on that. Once she 
remembered how they had come to be here, she'd realized he had 
been as rudderless as she was yesterday. 

There was an outside enemy at work and his name was Tempus. She 
couldn't lose sight of that. He had brought them here, to this 
hi-tech house of mirrors which reflected her life back to her. 
And not only hers, but Clark Kent's as well. 

So, for now she would just step around the big, fat ‘Clark is 
Superman' detail. It just muddied things and the whole situation 
was cloudy enough as it was.  

There were bigger questions which demanded attention. Scarier 
ones which were almost overwhelming. Maybe she could just consign 
those to the same space she'd put her alien partner superhero? 
Securely bound and gagged in one corner of her mind. Though it 
was getting crowded in there. 

But if she was going to start putting the pieces together, she 
couldn't dwell on how Tempus could know her so well. Know what 
her home life had been like. Where her bed sat in her bedroom and 
what color sheets it had. How sad and shy Lucy was as a child. 
How caustic and desperate her mother had been. How her father 
could be in the same room with them and not there at all. And now 
the Double Crunch Fudge Bar habit, too. How and why would have to 
wait.  

Who stood to gain?

That was the angle she needed to take. Who stood to gain from 
this elaborate show? A lot of time, money, and effort had been 
poured into it. It had to serve a purpose. She would block 
everything else out and start there. 

"Welcome to the Bullpen," boomed the false Chief, arms spread 
wide in greeting. "Feel free to look around, folks. This is where 
the news comes to you." 

Streams of visitors of all ages and sizes came through the 
elevator doors and down the ramp. Lois took her cue from those 
around her and sat down at her desk, clicked on her computer, and 
pretended to type. She was surprised and pleased when a story of 
hers popped up on her screen. It was a good one, corruption on 
the city council. She read it as if for the first time and tried 
to ignore the oohs and ahhs as people walked past. 

"Unbelievable," whispered one guy as he approached her desk. His 
shy smile of deep appreciation was so completely in contrast with 
his loud, garish shirt and way overfluffed hair she nearly 
laughed. "You're as beautiful as the real thing." 

"There's a reason for that," she wanted to say, but didn't. She 
just smiled wanly and gave him what was meant to be a little nod 
of dismissal. 

He didn't move on. Instead he placed the palms of his hands flat 
on her fake paperwork and smiled a smile with so many teeth she 
was tempted to count them. "So, what time do get off work, baby?" 
he growled in a voice that was both intimate and loud enough to 
grab everyone's attention. 

And it did. There was a pause and then a sort of polite, frantic 
scramble to reach her desk. Before she could put the oily fink in 
his place privately, they were surrounded. 

"Look." Lois ignored the stares. She had grown used to those in 
the Lane Family wing. "I'm not interested, so...no. Whatever 
you're asking, whatever you're thinking, whatever you're even 
thinking of thinking but haven't thought yet, it's no. No way. 
And in case I haven't made myself clear, no." 

That usually did it. In general, by the time she'd said the third 
‘no' most men with any higher brain function had gotten the hint. 
But not this one. He smiled... harder. Wider. Hungrier. 

She felt her cheeks start to flame. With all she was dealing with 
right now, this was the very last thing she needed. Or... scratch 
that. Maybe it was exactly what she needed. It might feel really 
nice, cheer her up, even, if she lunged across the desk and 
just... kicked that look off his face. 

She stood, eager. The crowd pressed closer. 

"You heard the lady." The circle of people swung open like a gate 
to let the speaker through. "Lois isn't interested, Scardino. For 
the last time, get lost." 

One of the Clark Kents addressed the Hawaiian shirted lothario in 
front of her, his jaw clenched, a hand rested protectively on the 
small of her back. And he seethed with frustration. 

Lois got it. 

Role-playing.

The guy was a good likeness, but he could only be acting, since 
he was nothing like the Clark Kent she had known for such a brief 
time. That Clark was anything but forceful.  

Except for when he was saving her life and the space program. But 
those facts were currently behind the locked door of her mind, 
so... whatever. 

"Ok, ok." The man playing Scardino took a step back. "When you 
get tired of Mr Greenjeans, babe," he said to groans, clearly 
relishing the part, "you know where to find me." 

"Back to work, people!" The Chief yelled right on cue. And it was 
a cue, Lois could see that. "This isn't a Wanda Detroit romance 
novel; it's a place of business, on your way." 

With that the young Jimmy double popped up, taking pictures of 
the visitors as they exited the room. "Photos available in the 
gift shop." 

"Five minute break," the Perry said in a much quieter, much less 
southern voice. "Then we start all over." 

"I haven't worked with you before, but the improvising was 
great." The actor Scardino stuck his hand out to shake hers. "I'm 
Stephen." 

"Lo--" she said, then stopped short. "Lorraine." 

"Nice meeting you, Lorraine," Stephen said without missing a 
beat. "And way to get all testosterone on me, Dave!" he said to 
the Clark who was perched on the corner of her desk. 

"Too far out of character?" Dave looked concerned. "Maybe if 
Clark had just done that once, it wouldn't have taken them so 
long to get to the HEA room." 

Everyone laughed appreciatively. Except Lorraine, of course. 

"Those people ate it up," the Jimmy who wasn't Jimmy said. "I 
think they'd rather see that than what really happened." 

Lois sat back down slowly, turning the words over in her head. 
"‘...if Clark had just done that once...'"  

She felt a wave of relief wash over her. She closed her eyes and 
savored it. 

Up until now Tempus had gotten everything so right it was 
unnerving. Terrifying, really. But this... this was all wrong.  

He had obviously set up some sort of romantic triangle, which, in 
itself, was laughable. She didn't even *know* a Scardino, she was 
sure of it. Especially if the way this guy dressed was indicative 
of the real one. She wouldn't be inclined to forget him. 

And ‘Clark' hovering behind her, jealous and angry, driving 
Scardino away... 

She laughed and felt herself relax for the first time since she'd 
woken on an unfamiliar floor. Maybe this was a little thing, but 
it was an important thing.  

Tempus was wrong. 

He was not all knowing and all seeing. Lois felt a surge of 
optimism. If he had made one mistake, he would make others. And 
she would be ready when he did.  

Putting on an easy smile she turned to the men, remembering her 
advice to Superman... Clark. No piece of information was 
insignificant. "What's the HEA room?"  

Dave and Stephen stopped talking. 

"You don't know?" Stephen said in disbelief. "Happily Ever After. 
Kind of the whole point." 

"The whole-?"

"You're new here," Dave cut in sympathetically, "and I bet 
they're working you so hard you haven't had a chance to look 
around." 

"Well, look at her," said the actor playing Jimmy, "You better 
believe they're keeping her in the front rooms so everyone can 
see her. The HEA room is so dark, *I* could be Lois Lane in there 
and no one would notice." 

"Are you related?" Stephen asked. "I thought the family didn't do 
the role-playing." 

Lois blinked. Things had swerved off track, and once more she 
found herself floundering. "Related to who?" That seemed safe 
enough. 

"The Founders," Dave said. "You are, aren't you? Did the family 
send you? So there would be an authentic looking Lois Lane? There 
was some concern last year over the, ah, flirtier Loises." 

"Flirtier is one way to put it," said Not Jimmy dreamily. 

"Excuse me," she said, moving blindly to her feet. "I.... I need 
to take a break." 

"Two minutes, places gang," called Perry from his office.

"Hurry back," Stephen whispered.

She moved as quickly as she could, hearing the concern in their 
voices, but none of the words. It didn't matter. They wouldn't 
make sense anyway. Nothing did. It was like listening 
underwater. 

And just now she felt like she was drowning.

She sprinted up the ramp. Good, familiar ramp. Even nicked and 
worn in the same ways as the original. Out of long habit she ran 
her palm over a scar in the wood. The dent she'd left when she'd 
thrown her shoe at Ralph and, sadly, missed him. 

Who did that? Who replicated a world right down to a scuff on a 
prop? Chocolate bars in a drawer?  

Tempus. Tempus did that. 

But why? Why?

She would find out, she told herself fiercely. She was calm and 
in charge. And she'd just had that surge of optimism, she didn't 
want to let go of that too soon. Right now she just needed to 
stretch her legs, go somewhere and not be looked at and told how 
much she looked exactly like... herself. 

Lois headed for the stairwell and started climbing.

***

On his second morning in the Krypton wing, Clark tried to 
disassociate himself. To pretend he was a guy pretending to be 
Superman and nothing more. Just another impersonator in a cape 
staring at the same displays all day long. 

He tried. But after he pushed the first simulator button and the 
walls dissolved and gave way to the illusion of deep space, 
swallowing them up, he forgot he was trying. 

He had been in open space only two days ago. Or two hundred years 
and two days ago, depending on whose calendar he went by. 

The reproduction of the vastness, the darkness broken only by 
blazing rays of sharp light was first rate. A coldness seeped 
into the room right on cue, leaving the audience members 
shivering, but feeling very much as if they were experiencing the 
real thing for themselves. 

Clark made himself look deeper. The cooling system was found 
easily, as well as the technology behind the holograms and 
lasers. It wasn't hidden, just placed discreetly around the room 
so as not to detract from the illusion. And it didn't give him 
any answers, it simply pressed more questions on him. It was 
quite possible this was what home theater systems had advanced to 
over the last two centuries.  

Clark's heart skipped a beat when the red planet spun into view. 
Since he had seen this part over and over the day before, he 
thought he'd be ready for the feelings it brought. But something 
in him- something more primal than thoughtful- reacted again, as 
if it were the first time.  

The twin memories, recognition and reunion, awoke in every cell 
of his body. His every nerve sang with it. Home.  

It had been that sense of awakening and belonging- more than any 
other thing yesterday- that convinced him all this wasn't a cheap 
trick, or a lie, a distortion of some kind. 

Because while the special effects might be easy enough to 
manufacture, this feeling when he looked at Krypton could not 
be. 

Watching it explode, watching its destruction, imagining the loss 
of lives, of the ground his parents had once walked, the air they 
had once breathed, everything he had once come from and that was 
rooted in him still, had been his undoing yesterday. 

He was a cosmic orphan. The one and only living heir to an entire 
planet. 

Clark nearly choked at the irony. Funny how he had always 
considered himself a lonely person, well loved by his parents, 
but still essentially an outsider.  

And he hadn't known the half of it, had he?

Now he did. Now he knew the other half of himself as well. He was 
no longer just Clark Kent of Smallville, Kansas, a man with a 
baffling array of special abilities and no real explanation for 
them. He was Kal-el of the house of El. Beloved son of Jor-el and 
Lara. Two names he savored the weight of in his mind, simply glad 
to know those syllables. 

They had loved him enough not to cling to him. Not to barricade 
themselves together, determined to live out their last days as a 
family. 

Instead, they had launched him away, making it possible for him 
to be standing here- whenever and wherever he was- witnessing 
their sacrifice. 

"Thank you," he murmured aloud, though he knew full well the 
actors portraying his parents in the hologram weren't the real 
ones. They were as close as he was ever going to get. 

He turned away when the crash of light and sound began. He'd seen 
the simulated explosion yesterday. He didn't ever need to see it 
again. 

The group moved obediently across the room, following the tiny 
space craft into the hallway, cheering as it cleared the space 
debris and shot towards the distant planet of green and blue. 

Towards Kansas, Jonathan and Martha Kent, and home.

The next set of double doors was the Smallville wing, just 
exactly as Perry had said. Over the entrance the words ‘From Our 
Arms to Yours.' 

Clark stopped on the threshold not following the others in. It 
even smelled like Smallville. Damp earth and clover. He watched 
as one of the Clark Kents walked out and greeted the tourists.  

"Welcome to Schuster's Field. A favorite place of mine for 
obvious reasons." 

Everyone gave an appreciate chuckle. Some even remembered to turn 
and wave goodbye to Superman.  

Behind him, he heard the next group filing into K-wing. When he 
was ready, he went to meet them. 

***

Lois reached the third floor and pushed out into the dimly lit 
hallway. It seemed empty enough and she was tired of climbing 
stairs, so it was as good as place as any. 

Or not. Within seconds a Clark Kent stuck his head from one of 
the doorways. "Welcome to Happily Ever After," he said with a 
broad grin. 

The proper reply to that failed her, so she just opened her mouth 
and closed it again. 

His brow creased in confusion. "Where's your group?"

"Coming along," she said with what was meant to be breezy 
confidence. It just came out winded instead. Probably from the 
climb. Nothing more to it than that. 

Lois took note of the candles lining the hallway. The rosy, soft 
glow they gave off. It was sort of.... pretty. Peaceful. She let 
out a long, slow breath. She could hear light orchestral music 
floating through the open doors. From where she was standing, 
everything sounded and looked a little like... church. 

No. Not church, exactly. But a place where something important 
or... sacred, maybe... took place. 

She didn't want to go in. 

And she didn't want to linger in the hallway any longer either, 
not under the stare of a Clark Kent. Not when he was wearing a 
tuxedo, one rose in his lapel almost as if he was dressed for... 

"I should head back down and see what's keeping them," she said, 
though her feet wouldn't move. 

"Great." He ducked back in and the doors swung closed, the music 
was cut off, and it was just her and a bunch of candles. Fire 
hazards. That was all. Nothing else. Her imagination was starting 
to run away, but who could blame her? 

"Happily Ever After." She snorted that derisively, tossed some 
skeptical looks around. There was no one else to see them, but 
they made her feel better. 

Her eyes strayed back to the doors.

Whatever was in there certainly couldn't be any worse than what 
was in the Lane Family Wing. There couldn't be anything here to 
compare to that house of horrors. And she was fact-gathering 
today. The best way to get a handle on things, have a look at 
everything, no stone left unturned. And the timing was good. No 
group dynamic to distract her.  

Silly not to go in, then, really. Foolish. Unprofessional. 

"So, why not?" she said aloud. 

***

Chapter Three

Clark wasn't too surprised when Lois didn't show up for lunch. He 
waited as long as he could before he gave in and ate her 
sandwich. He was starving, and if she turned up he would get her 
another one. 

His stomach full, he leaned up against the attic wall and 
stretched out his legs and closed his eyes. He just needed a few 
minutes, a fast nap, before he headed back to work for the 
afternoon.  

He forced all thoughts of Krypton out of his head. All thoughts 
of the future and time travel and Tempus. He just wanted to sit 
and nothing more. It had been two days since he last slept, and 
the constant barrage of images and questions haunting him was 
exhausting.  

He knew it had to be the same for Lois. And now she could add one 
more little detail to her store of knowledge: Clark Kent and 
Superman. Same guy. 

He laughed a half-laugh. Well, no need to worry she would expose 
him. Hundreds of people had streamed in and out all morning long, 
and every last one of them knew.  

Clark squeezed his eyes shut. Determinedly relaxing.

‘He loved you at first sight.'

Some woman had spoken those words during his and Lois's argument. 
He tried to ignore them, but they leapt straight to his gut all 
over again. Along with other words which refused to be pushed 
off-- the Perry's ‘You're a one woman man' from the day before. 

Clark sighed and opened his eyes. So much for relaxing. He might 
as well go downstairs; he wasn't going to get any sleep. Not for 
a minute. He jumped to his feet and walked with quick steps to 
the door. 

He knew those words were true. Every one of them. 

He stumbled just a bit in the darkened corner, almost as if that 
thought had tripped him. 

But it had tripped him, hadn't it? And that was the problem. 

Lois wasn't the only one who had been handed a really 
mind-blowing piece of information today. She wasn't the only one 
who, on top of everything else that was going on, knew just one 
thing too many. 

Clark rested his forehead on the door and let it sink in. 

The way he had felt when she had pushed into Perry's office 
during his interview at the real Daily Planet. The shock to his 
system. The electric current he could practically see... 

"Physical attraction," he whispered aloud. "Nothing unusual."

The worry for her that felt like a band around his heart... 

"She's reckless, so that's... natural."

And last night, carrying her back here, folding his cape around 
her, watching her sleep, after seeing her so undone, even knowing 
what she thought he was capable of... 

"Circumstances. High stress." He spoke a bit louder now, more 
firmly.  

Waking up underneath her in the park yesterday...

"Amazing," he breathed, before he could stop himself. 

Clark moved one hand to the door knob. There were some many 
things to be done. He didn't know what exactly, but he knew he 
needed to be doing something besides this. Besides standing in 
the attic, in the future, in a world where his life was, 
evidently, some sort of amusement ride, wondering if he'd ever 
have a chance to... wake up underneath Lois Lane again. 

The thought was laughable. But he didn't laugh. 

"Get a grip," he growled to himself, pulling the door open with 
enough force to wrench it from the hinges. He didn't stop to fix 
it. He propped it to one side and took the stairs three at a time 
trying not to feel as if he was being chased. 

He went back to the lobby, deeply grateful for all the people 
milling about. He would talk to them, every last one. Then maybe 
after closing, Lois would be ready to meet him and they could 
compare notes. 

He hoped fervently they had more to say to each other than, 
"Today I learned you're Superman, Clark." And "Well, I can top 
that. Turns out, I might love you." 

Clark smiled ruefully. If there was one thing he did know for 
certain, it was that his feelings-- whatever they were exactly -- 
were entirely one-sided.  

One of the Perrys approached him. "Our Smallville Kent has gone 
home early, you feel up to something a little different?" 

"Sure," he said heartily. The more he saw the better. And he was 
definitely a little homesick.  

*** 

"Should we notify the Family?"

Madge started, turning away from the monitors, one hand pressed 
to her galloping heart. "Hank, make some noise next time, will 
you?" 

He smiled good-naturedly, though it was strained. And he didn't 
repeat himself. He would know that she had heard. 

"Not yet," she said finally, not quite able to meet his eyes.

"When?" He took his usual seat across from her desk and Madge 
moved reluctantly to join him. 

"I'm not sure I see the point."

"Don't see the point? The Lane-Kents are the pillars of this 
community. They number in the thousands. If we've lost their 
ancestors --" 

"Not lost." Madge raised her voice. "Misplaced."

"Since we've... misplaced... their ancestors," Hank said 
carefully, "shouldn't they be told? They'll be the first ones 
affected." 

"According to the Descendant Theory. We don't really know." Madge 
moved briskly to her feet. She couldn't seem to make herself sit 
for long these days. Poor Fredrick. She had kept him awake all 
night with her tossing and turning.  

"You don't look so good," Hank said, as if he was reading her 
mind. And maybe he was. They had spent countless hours together. 
She had been his first boss at the Ministry. He had been so 
young, barely out of school. And as she had climbed in position, 
she had taken him with her, appreciating his quiet steadiness, 
his gentle humor, and his undying loyalty. She had placed a lot 
of trust on his broad shoulders over the years. In many ways, he 
was the son she'd never had. 

Not that they never disagreed. They did, and did often. 

Like now.

"What good can it do them to know? There isn't one thing they can 
do about it. So why..." 

"...ruin their last days?" Hank finished for her,