By LaraMoon <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Submitted: September 2007
Summary: What if HG Wells' Soul Tracker had seriously malfunctioned and our favorite couple had found themselves transported inside an entirely different couple altogether? Let's say… a certain couple from Gotham City, for instance?
This is part of my "Clark Kent is Batman… NOT!" series (aka: the alphabet series.)
The Bottom Dweller is holding on to the other notes for the moment. All you need to know for now is that this starts near the end of Soul Mates.
Lois felt great relief as the last of the strange wave effect from the Soul Tracker system passed through her body. She and Clark had gone back and forth in time to try and prevent Tempus from casting a nasty spell on them — one that could forever prevent them from being able to be physically intimate with one another. Twice now they had foiled his evil plans and for the second time, she now found herself back in what she hoped was their real, normal, timeline.
But her relief was short-lived. Very short-lived. Something inside her felt strange; something was not right. For reasons she couldn't explain, Lois just didn't feel like herself. Immediately, she knew that this wasn't where she was supposed to be — Tempus had found yet another way of separating her from the man she loved. There would be hell to pay, she thought. Tempus wasn't going to get away with this! The whole charade had gone on long enough!! No, make that *way* too long! Lois Lane wasn't going to be controlled like this any longer.
Swearing that she would get the two things she wanted the most right now — to wring Tempus's pretentious little neck and to leave for her honeymoon with Clark — Lois took a step forward in the direction of the elevator door in front of her. Oddly, her feet felt heavy and she almost stumbled and fell as she tried to lift one up from the floor.
Lois looked down at herself and just about shrieked in horror. She was dressed in a suit and tie. A nicely cut suit, apparently, but a man's suit nonetheless. What on earth was going on? Slapping a hand on her mouth in utter disbelief, she realized that the hand in question was not only of the very large kind, but that the skin on her face wasn't silky soft anymore… She had stubble on her chin!
Frantically feeling her body with these huge hands she now had revealed something even worse. Not only had her breasts vanished, but she had a… a…
With a noisy thud, Lois slipped to the floor, unconscious.
"Sir? Are you all right?" came an older man's voice. It had a British accent.
"Wells?" Lois asked as she tried to pick herself up from the floor. But, as she turned her face to look upon the man, she realized that she was wrong.
"Wells, sir? Whatever do you mean?" the gentleman asked. He grabbed her — or him, whatever the right pronoun was supposed to be — and gently helped her/him up.
"Who… are you?" Lois asked, brows furrowed.
"Why, Alfred, of course, sir." The older man looked upon Lois's face, concern obvious in his weary eyes. "Are you feeling all right, Master Bruce?"
What in the Sam Hill was going on? What was *Lois Lane's* soul doing in the body of some uncoordinated dolt named Bruce? And, more importantly, where the heck were Clark and Wells?
Clark opened his eyes slowly once he felt the effect of Wells' Soul Tracker fade away. He and Lois had defeated both Baron Tempos and Tempus Tex, but he was still somewhat afraid that upon returning to their normal timeline, they would find something wrong again and have to go back. He didn't think he could wait that much longer before he'd finally be allowed to carry his new bride over the threshold and… consummate the marriage, as Wells so adequately put it.
Eyes fully opened, Clark saw that he was inside the Daily Planet's elevator. At least, he was fairly sure this was it. The colors looked a bit off. But maybe that was just his imagination. He'd been to the past — and back — a couple of times today and who knew just how his sense of perception could have been altered by it.
He quickly realized he was alone there. Why was he alone, he wondered? Every single time they had jumped, he'd found himself with Lois and Wells. Where were they? Perhaps they were already up in the newsroom? Clark pressed the button for the 5th floor and… just about choked when he noticed his hand.
His hand! Something had happened to his hand! It was different, smaller, and its nails were painted a bright shade of red. The other hand was just the same as this one. And… Oh no! His wedding band was missing!
Panicked, he stepped in front of the panel housing the buttons to the different floors and tried to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the polished metal. He gasped in horror at the realization that his whole entire body was different. And not just a little different. A lot different. Clark's knees became weak as he realized that whatever incarnation of his this was, was a… a… he could barely form the word in his mind. He was a transvestite! This was bad. This was so very bad! This sort of secret identity, he really wasn't sure that he could live with or pull off.
Feeling strangely exposed and awkward in this little black dress that had what was certainly the world's most plunging neckline, Clark attempted to pull the fabric in somewhat and cover his chest. As he did so, one of his hands brushed against what he had initially assumed were fake breasts. His eyes grew wide almost immediately. He wouldn't have felt the touch if they'd truly been fake! He closed his eyes and, timidly, grabbed one breast in his hand, squeezing ever so lightly.
"They're real…" he whispered, astonished.
Looking down at himself, he pulled forward on the dress slightly and, though utterly embarrassed, glanced at these newfound attributes. He could barely hide a grin as it registered in his mind that, not only were they really very real, but they were spectacular. Immediately, he realized that he was ogling his own body and he winced, letting go of the light silky fabric as if his fingers had been burned by it.
Something had gone horribly wrong. Wells' Soul Tracker had somehow malfunctioned and apparently stuck his soul inside someone else altogether. He had no earthly idea who he was, where he was or even when he was. Only that he was standing in an elevator and that, while his soul and his inner being was that of Clark Kent, the exterior was that of a woman. A rather hot looking woman, in a very revealing little black dress, but still: a woman.
The elevator finally came to a stop and the doors opened. He walked awkwardly out, trying not to fall off these silly high heel shoes he had on, and found himself standing in a study of some sort. Not the newsroom and definitely not the Daily Planet; so much for the elevator looking familiar.
To Clark's left were two men. He sighed with relief as he realized that he knew them. He knew them very well! He'd just have to explain what was going on — they would help him, he was sure of it.
"Bruce?" he asked, cautiously.
"Would you people please quit calling me that!" the man retorted, clumsily getting up on his feet.
Clark looked at him, confused. Could he have been wrong? "Mister Wayne?" he asked, hoping that this would work better.
"Who? What? And who are you?" the man shot back, angrily.
"Miss Vale!" Alfred exclaimed as he turned to look at Clark. "I believe Master Bruce may have hit his head, he doesn't seem to remember who he is."
Miss Vale? As in… Vicky Vale? Clark's face paled. Is that who he — or she — was? The reporter? Well, at least this part he knew how to pull off…
"I did not hit my head and I am not this Bruce person you're referring to," the man roared.
Clark's face paled even more. Could that be…? Was it possible that…? Oh, good god! "Alfred, would you be so kind as to get some water? I'll see if there's anything I can do for him."
Alfred excused himself and promptly went about his task.
"Lois?" Clark asked after a short moment, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lois/Bruce's mouth fell open. "Cla..rk?" she/he said, hesitantly.
Clark nodded. "Lois," he explained calmly, walking over to the man, "you're… um… you're Bruce Wayne. And, apparently, I'm Vicky Vale."
"Bruce Wayne? The billionaire?" Lois all but giggled. Here she was, a determined advocate of feminism, stuck inside the body of one of the world's most notorious playboys. If that wasn't irony, she didn't know what was. This had Tempus written all over it — in big bold letters! "Are you sure? You know these people?" At Clark's nod, she continued, "I guess this Vicky… what did you say your name was? She's his conquest of the moment? Figures. Long red hair, nice legs. And I bet those are implants, too!"
Clark/Vicky blushed madly. "Um… actually…" he swallowed, unsure whether he could finish his thought out loud. "I think she's as close to a steady girlfriend as he's ever had. And… ah…" he sighed heavily before spitting it out, "no implants. They're real."
Unexpectedly, a thought popped into Lois's mind that she could barely believe she'd had. She shuddered it away, immediately removing her eyes from their parking spot on the other woman's generous chest, but not before the idea had transformed into a tiny electric impulse that had traveled downwards in a manner Lois absolutely refused to acknowledge.
"Are you OK?" Clark asked, seeing his partner's reaction. He walked up to her/him and stroked their arm affectionately.
"Yes," she squeaked before clearing her throat loudly. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm fine." Sighing, she continued, "You know what? I'm not fine! How do we get out of this? We need to fix this! Soon. I can't stay like this… I'm a *man*! I don't want to be a man!"
"Lois, calm down…"
"…and I don't want you to be a woman. No matter how hot you look in that…"
"…we'll find Wells and -" Clark stopped abruptly, eyes growing wide and cheeks turning a deep shade of red. "What did you say? I look… hot?"
"See! It's not normal; I'm not supposed to think you look hot. I'm a woman, I can't be with another woman! This is all completely wrong! Wells' Soul Tracker messed up big time — unless…? Wait! Do you think we're in an alternate reality?"
"I don't know…" Clark shook his/her head. "These people are alive in our universe and we couldn't possibly share a soul with them. Then again, they're about as similar to us as anyone I could possibly think of. Reporters, dual identity — but it still makes absolutely no sense that we'd end up here as Bruce and Vicky."
"Dual…? You mean? This woman has a secret identity?"
"No. She's just a reporter." Clark told her/him. He shouldn't have mentioned anything about secret identities, he knew, but it was too late to take it back now. Besides, it was probably a good idea to tell her — the information could come in handy, sooner or later, as they tried to find a way out of this mess. "You, on the other hand…"
"M- me? Really?" Lois snorted loudly. "He couldn't possibly! Bruce Wayne is an uncoordinated dolt who chases skirts all day — what does he double as, a chimpanzee in a tutu?"
Clark couldn't help a chuckle. "No… Seriously. He's, um… He's the Batman."
"*Bat*man?" Lois looked at him/her, eyebrows shooting right up to the hairline. "I'm Batman? *Me*? You're making this up!"
"No, I'm not. Scout's honor! Look, we'd better try and find Wells…"
It was then that Alfred returned, carrying a large crystal pitcher of water and two glasses on a fancy silver tray.
"How are you feeling now, sir?" he asked as he set the tray on a nearby desk and proceeded to fill the glasses with water from the pitcher.
Clark/Vicky touched Lois/Bruce slightly on the arm as a reminder that it was them who were being addressed.
"Oh… Uh. Better. Yes, thank you. Much better." Lois said, trying to sound as sure of it as possible.
"Good!" Alfred said, handing Lois/Bruce one of the glasses of water. "You'll still be attending the ceremony, then, I hope? I should imagine everyone would be most disappointed if you decided you were not feeling up to it."
Through their counterparts' eyes, Lois and Clark looked at each other, apprehension rapidly starting to show in their expression.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Bruce Wayne," came the master of ceremony's voice. And the crowd — albeit small and polite — started applauding almost deafeningly.
Lois/Bruce got up from their seat at the head table and walked up to the podium, trying as hard as possible to look the part. Lois didn't really have much of a clue how Bruce Wayne was supposed to walk, talk or handle himself. And, while winging it might have been easy in private, in front of all these people — people who knew the man a whole lot better than she did — this was proving to be a real challenge. Not to mention that silly bowtie was just about choking her/him right now! How did men ever put up with these things?
"Thank you everyone for being here tonight," Lois said, drawing comfort in the fact that all she really had to do was say thank you and leave. And she had Clark there with her for support, too. Even though, right now, the person looking at her with a loving expression in their eyes was in appearance a tall redhead in a very sexy little black dress. "It is with great honor that I welcome you all to this year's presentation of the Thomas Wayne Foundation's Awards for Medical Breakthroughs. I would like to extend my congratulations to all the winners, people who continually strive to excel in the field and whose efforts often mean a world of difference for sick people all over the world. Thank you! And have a great evening!"
With a slight bow of the head, Lois walked off the stage amidst the cheering of the audience and sat down again. Finally allowing herself to relax, she reached out for Clark's hand and closed her eyes. Bruce's part was done for the night. Now, all they had to do was survive this dinner without incident. And find Wells!
Of course, if Lois and Clark's lives were more often than not a little chaotic, so was Bruce Wayne's. And as such, hoping for the evening to go by peacefully was a lot to ask for. Especially one such as this, when most of the medical community, and several of Gotham's socialites, were gathered in the same room.
The first course had barely been served when a group of men burst into the room from one of the side doors. They yielded automatic weapons and wore what looked unmistakably like black spandex unitards and matching hoods.
Immediately, Clark sprung from his chair. And, just as quickly, remembered that in this reality he was neither super-powered, nor even a man. He sat down again at once and turned to Lois. "What do we do?" he asked, clearly shaken by this turn of events. In both previous instances, he'd found himself in a position where he was still able to fight — and most importantly, protect Lois from any harm that may come to her — even though his powers were non-existent at the time. But this… Simply walking in these shoes proved to be a challenge; there was no way he'd ever be able to fight dressed like this, anyhow. And though Lois happened to have all of Batman's abilities at her disposal, it would have taken her years of training to be able to properly control his actions in order to really be effective.
Unless someone else showed up real soon, they were doomed. Curse Tempus for his insane schemes!
Lois tried to suppress the feelings of guilt that started gnawing at her. Here she was, inside Batman's body — a man whose physical prowess allowed him to gain the upper hand on just about any attacker, even though he possessed absolutely no super powers at all to help him in the task — yet as able as this man was, Lois herself wasn't able to tap into this great source of strength and agility. She was completely unable to come to these people's assistance. If she'd been herself, she could at least have used some of her tae kwon-do moves, but in Bruce's body she had a hard time just keeping from tripping over his own feet and falling face first to the ground. As much as she would have liked to, there really was nothing she could do.
"We stay put for now," Lois whispered back to Clark. "If we don't do anything to attract attention to ourselves, maybe they'll ignore us completely? We can't die here, Clark. We just can't."
There was a pleading look in Bruce's eyes that Clark knew was entirely Lois. He nodded and, out of the corner of his eye, caught sight of someone else, marching into the room. A woman, wearing a painted-on black latex catsuit. Complete with a stylized facemask, a set of tiny little cat ears on her head and a long black tail attached to her lower back.
With but one crack of her whip, she had the whole room on attention. No one dared move even a finger.
"My darlings," she purred, smiling delightfully, "thank you all for coming is such… *generous* numbers tonight." She cracked her whip a second time, as she exclaimed her contentment. "Raaaawr!"
She moved about the room slowly, walking seductively from one table to the next and stopping every now and then to pat men on the cheek or whisper in women's ears. All eyes were upon her and still, no one made even the slightest move; half-mesmerized by her, half-scared she'd scratch their eyes out with the sharp claws protruding from the ends of her gloves.
Almost no one was moving…
Lois felt a slight tug on her sleeve. She turned around subtly, careful not to be noticed. There, behind her — or him, rather — a young man was crouching. Looking at him more carefully, Lois realized it was Jimmy.
"Jimmy?" she whispered, puzzled. What was he doing here? They had met him — and several other acquaintances — in both previous 'jumps'. However, this time, Lois and Clark had found themselves inside bodies which were not their own and she hadn't expected to see anyone here that she would recognize.
"Who?" he shot back, confused. "Bruce? You feeling OK? Come on, man, we need to… you know… take care of this!" He made a hand gesture in the direction of the thugs.
Aware of the conversation that was taking place just behind him, Clark turned to look at the newcomer. Right away he knew who the young man was supposed to be — even though to his eyes, this was most definitely Jimmy Olsen. In this incarnation, he was Dick Grayson, also known as Robin, the Boy Wonder; Batman's trusted sidekick.
"I think you're going to have to take care of this on your own," Clark/Vicky said. There just wasn't time to explain things to him and, furthermore, causing a commotion or even drawing attention to them right now would be ill advised.
Robin shot Vicky a dirty look. "Come on, Bruce!" he said, ignoring the woman's comments. "Ditch the chick and let's go!" He tugged on Lois/Bruce's sleeve once more, as if to convince his mentor to take action.
"I… I can't," Lois confessed, unsure what she was supposed to say or do. She had no clue who the young man was… What else could she have said to him?
"Ah, crap!" was all that Robin said, before he literally disappeared from view.
Lois looked back to Clark with question marks in her/his eyes.
"Robin," he told her, answering the unspoken question.
But before Lois could fully make sense of the information, Catwoman cracked her whip once again, causing her to snap to attention, interrogations forgotten momentarily.
A few steps later, Catwoman had strutted her way to Bruce's left. She plopped down in his lap and landed a resounding kiss on his cheek. It was all Lois could do not to cringe.
"Brucie… Sweetheart," Catwoman said in a soft, susurrus voice that sounded oddly familiar to Lois. "If I'd known you were going to be here, I would have come straight over to you," she added as she traced his jaw line carefully with one of her claws.
"Leave he- *him* alone!" Clark just about roared, though through Vicky's vocal chords, it sounded a lot more like a scared shriek than it did a warning. "Keep your hands off my -" My what? What were they? Damn! "date!" he said after the briefest hesitation.
"And what have we here?" Catwoman asked through her teeth as she turned to face the woman who had dared address her in such a manner. With a quick flick of the wrist, she left a long bloody mark on Vicky's cheek.
Clark/Vicky's hand immediately flew to their face, tears forming in their eyes.
"That's it!" Lois/Bruce exclaimed in anger, getting up from their chair and dropping Catwoman unceremoniously to the floor. "Don't you dare touch hi- *her* again! You hear me?"
Though she appeared to whimper somewhat at first, Catwoman picked herself up from the floor and stood face to face with the man who had had the gall to treat her so affrontedly. She eyed him, raw anger and a deep desire for revenge burning in her eyes.
Suddenly, from the back of the room, came a loud burst of maniacal laughter. All eyes turned towards the place where the chilling sound had come from.
"Ah, my pets!" said a man. "How nice of you to assemble for your master! How obedient, how well trained you are. I am so pleased. Oh, yes I am. I just may have… oh, I just may… Yes, yes indeed! I may have to reward you all!" His tone of voice — his entire demeanor — screamed of dementia.
A murmur of panic and fear ran through the crowd. The Joker. This man's rewards were another man's torture.
How he'd managed to escape from Arkham Asylum yet again was anyone's guess. All that they knew for sure was that this man was evil, dangerous and completely out of his mind.
"Ooooh!" he exclaimed, twirling his cane in his hand joyously. "You! And You! And Catwoman, too!" He pointed towards the trio. "How exceptionally nice of you to show up tonight! Wonderful irony! How you make me happy! So very happy, so joyous and so glad!"
He sashayed in their direction, nose up in the air as he whistled an odd little tune only he knew the notes to.
"Kitty, my precious. Thank you so much for keeping them company," he told Catwoman. "I promise you can have him all to yourself later, if you behave."
Catwoman let out a happy purr and walked away, like a docile little house-pet.
"Don't you just love this man, ladies and gentlemen?" Joker asked loudly, pointing to Bruce with his cane. "Let's have a round of applauds for Mr. Bruce Wayne. That's it. Yes, yes! He looks handsome, doesn't he? Striking fellow!"
He motioned to the crowd like a conductor to his orchestra as they applauded obediently. Then, in a swift move, he dropped his cane and grabbed Vicky's wrists, dragging her — literally kicking and screaming — up to the podium with him. "Tie her up!" he yelled to one of Catwoman's thugs who came running to carry out the madman's order.
Clark tried to resist with all the strength he could muster from Vicky's body, but both men were very strong and easily gained the advantage over the powerless reporter. In a few short moments' time, Vicky's wrists were bound and her mouth covered with a colorful handkerchief. She could no longer resist nor scream.
"Is there a priest in the house?" Joker yelled out, before laughing loudly again in a crazy, bone-chilling way. He paused for a moment and looked around the room. "Better than a doctor, a priest, don't you know? Priests can marry people. Yes, indeed. And that's just what we're going to do. Isn't it? Oh, I know you would love that, wouldn't you? Of course! Weddings are joyous occasions. And oh, how I love to spread joy among the people! Yes, yes! Find us a priest at once. The beautiful Miss Vale and I are going to be wed tonight."
"No!" Lois/Bruce screamed. "Nooooooooooooooooo!"
Lois awoke suddenly, screaming at the top of her lungs and sat bolt upright in bed. Her heart was racing and she was covered in cold sweat.
A mere second later, Clark had joined her in the bedroom. "Lois? What's wrong? Are you OK?" he asked, clearly concerned.
"Clark?" She looked up at him with great relief. Clark — the real Clark, *her Clark* — was back. Immediately, she looked at herself and let out an excited yelp. She was back, too! No more Bruce Wayne, no more Vicky. No more Catwoman and Joker. No more Tempus! They'd beaten them; they'd won. "We're back! Oh, Clark we're back!"
"Back?" he asked, brows furrowed in confusion. He sat on the edge of the bed as Lois started talking quickly and animatedly.
"Yes! From whatever place it was that the Soul Tracker had sent us. Don't you remember? We were in Gotham. And I was… Oh, I'm so glad you're back to being you! I really love you a whole lot more when you're you, Clark!" Lois threw herself in his arms and hugged him as tightly as she could.
"Soul Tracker? Lois, what are you talking about?" Clark asked, growing more perplexed by the second. "We haven't been to Gotham in weeks. And I've been back to being my own self for some time, now. You were just having a nightmare."
Lois pulled back enough to be able to look at him. "Night- nightmare?" she whispered, confused. "No, no, no. It was real. It was… a nightmare? But what about Tempus? We beat him, didn't we? That was real, wasn't it?"
"Tempus. You know! He came from the future, on H.G. Wells' time machine."
Clark chuckled softly, earning himself an angry glance from Lois. "Lois, you fell asleep on the couch about an hour ago, we were watching a late night movie. Time after Time. It's a sci-fi thing, I suppose — H.G. Wells was pursuing Jack the Ripper through time. It's not real, it was just a movie."
"A movie?" She looked at him, unsure if she was really awake. Maybe she was still dreaming? Or maybe Wells' Soul Tracker thingy had malfunctioned again? Why else would she remember all these things — and how else could she explain the fact that Clark didn't seem to remember any of it?
"Yeah. It's still on. You want to see the end?" Clark got up and held out his hand to her. "Come on, I'll make some cocoa. It'll make you feel better. And then you can tell me what that dream was about. OK?"
Lois took his hand hesitantly, then finally got up from the bed, her legs shaking under her. "But it felt so real…" she whispered in a tiny little voice. "None of it was real?"
"You've been here all evening," Clark told her. "This whole thing with Barbara Trevino has gotten to you a little more than you wanted to admit, huh?"
Barbara Trevino? But that was… the past? How could she have ended up in the past again? It *was* the past, right? Lois's eyes filled with tears. She was certain now that she was losing her mind. Nothing made sense anymore. Could this really have been just a dream? She just didn't understand how that was possible.
"Ah, c'mere," Clark said softly as he pulled her into a gentle hug. Almost immediately, Lois broke into a sob. "It was just a bad dream. You're safe. Nothing's going to happen as long as you're here. I promise." He kept stroking her back as he repeated comforting words over and over, until she stopped crying.
"It felt so real…" she said once more.
"Come on, let's go sit in the living room and you can tell me all about it. OK?"
Lois just nodded and followed Clark to the couch. She let herself drop onto the comfy cushions with a sigh and stared at the TV set for a few minutes. Suddenly, her eyes grew wide and she pointed towards the screen.
"I've seen him before!" she exclaimed.
"Who? Jack the Ripper?" Clark asked, coming to sit beside her. "Of course you've seen him before, that's David Warner. Remember we watched TRON last weekend?"
"Oh, right. Yeah, I remember that. It's weird, I just thought…" She shrugged. "I guess I was wrong." The glimpse of memory that Lois had had — or thought she'd had — faded away as images of the previous weekend came back to her.
"You want something to drink?"
"Um? No, I'm good. Can I just… uh…" She moved in a little hesitantly, snuggling up to Clark.
"Of course you can," he said, placing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to him.
Eyes closed, Lois rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her free arm around his chest. Slowly, she began telling Clark about the 'nightmare' she'd had. Every once in a while, the details became somewhat fuzzy in her head and she was having problems separating the dream from memories that kept popping in her mind, of events that had happened just last month when they'd been in Gotham City.
"You feeling a little better?" Clark asked once she was done.
"I think so," Lois whispered. "Thank you."
Looking up, she noticed a reddish stain on the collar of his shirt. She backed up immediately.
"I was real! Clark, there's blood on your shirt! That means it was real," she said, eyes wide in horror. Catwoman had scratched him, that was the only possible explanation for the bloodstain, she thought.
"Blood?" He looked at his shirt. "What, this?" He looked back to Lois, smiling warmly. "That's not blood, Lois. It's just a stain from the strawberries I was making a smoothie with before you got here."
She frowned. That did make more sense than a bloodstain, she realized. It wasn't even Clark's own cheek that Catwoman had clawed; it was someone else's. Lois sighed in frustration.
"What is it?"
"I don't know… I'm just having the hardest time trying to separate what's real and what's not. Um… Bruce Wayne?" she asked. "He really is Batman, isn't he?"
Clark raised an eyebrow. "Yeah."
"And you're still Superman, right?"
"I hope so." He chuckled softly.
Lois shook her head, trying to hold on to rapidly fading images from her dream. "But… we're really not married. And Tempus? You're sure you don't remember ever meeting him — at all?"
"Well, there are some holes in my memory still, because of Nightfall," Clark admitted, "but I'm pretty sure I'd remember if I'd met someone from the future." Placing a light kiss on her forehead, he added, "And believe me, I'd definitely remember if we were married. There's no way I could possibly forget that."
Out on the balcony, an elderly man in an outdated suit and bowler hat moved away from the open window with a satisfied smile. "Oh yes, dear boy, there is a way you could forget. And thank goodness for that, too."
He pocketed a rectangular object and headed to his right where, seemingly out of nowhere, appeared a strange contraption made up of an armchair set in front of a long dashboard on which were set a good number of controls, knobs and dials of all types. At the back of the seat was a huge wheel with strange markings on it.
"This time, there will be no interference from Tempus," he added, whispering to no one in particular.
Taking seat inside the machine, he moved a knob, hit a button or two, and in a flash of bright light, he was gone.
Bottom Dweller's Notes:
Catherine Bruce posted a challenge in which she mentioned Soul Mates and the possibility of Lois being reincarnated as a man. Well, things lead to another and this is what I came up with. [http://www.lcficmbs.com/ubb/ultimatebb.php?ubb=get_topic;f=3;t=000666]
Thanks to Cat for the inspiration, for coming up with the title and for convincing me that this crazy story was a good idea. *lol* Thanks to Jessi for always answering my weird questions and for listening to me go on and on and oooooooooon about the details of the story — and she never even complained once! Last, but definitely not least, thanks to Rach for the chimpanzee in a tutu. ROFL! I almost died of laughter. Thank you!
For those of you who don't know who Vicky Vale is, the best definition would be "she's Batman's Lois Lane" — Vicky works for a newspaper and often reports about Batman's activities. She's been romantically linked to both Batman and Bruce Wayne. The only difference between her and Lois would be the… um… "galactically stupid" part. Heh. [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vicky_Vale]
I'm sure you recognized the criminally insane man at the end of the dream — didn't you? That was Tempus masquerading as Joker. And Catwoman… the reason why Lois thought she sounded familiar is that, should she have removed her mask, you would have seen that she was in fact Cat Grant. Who better to play Catwoman? *g*
Geek reference extraordinaire: Time after Time is a movie from 1979 which stars Malcolm McDowell and David Warner. It tells the story of how H.G. Wells (McDowell) chases after Jack the Ripper (Warner) through time and tries to stop him from killing more women. It's a pretty good movie, if you want my honest opinion. I've seen it a few times over the years. Anyway… In case the name didn't ring a bell, David Warner was also in an episode of Lois & Clark. Yep. And he didn't have just any role, either. He played Jor-El in The Foundling. And that *really* makes this movie wickedly perfect for this story!
Ooooh! And in case you picked up on it, there's a reference to an episode of Seinfeld in there. The one in which Teri Hatcher told the world that "they're real and they're spectacular." I simply *had* to use that, for obvious reasons!
…and um… thanks for reading all the way down to here. And since you did, don't forget to ask for your free candy.