Big Boys Do Fly III:  Torn Between Two Worlds
by Wendy Richards <w.m.richards@hrm.keele.ac.uk>
Rated PG
Submitted July 1999

____________

This is the third part of my 'mini-series' Big Boys Do Fly, based on an
alternate-universe characterisation of Clark Kent/Superman and Lois Lane.
If you have not read Parts 1 and 2, this story may not make much sense ;)

Thanks and kudos again to Margaret Brignell and Debby Stark for their
'Swap-Meet', which is responsible for some of the inspiration for this
story, and to Jenny Stosser for 'The Chicken and the Egg,' which kind of
kicked things off in my brain. Many thanks to Karen Ward for her tremendous
encouragement and for acting as a guinea-pig, which is much appreciated.
One of the characters in this story is dedicated to Karen ;)  Thanks also
to Pam Jernigan for her encouragement, and to Christy  for some advice
on the fatal effects of chemicals <g>.

A further explanatory note, for those interested in continuity: I've used
this story in part to 'tidy up' some of my own personal L&C universes, and
so there are occasional links here to a few of my other stories. The 'Big
Boys Do Fly' series is therefore in the same L&C universe as 'A Guest from
the Blue' and 'A Ring on his Finger', and also 'A Love so Long in the
Making' (see the names of L&C's children <g>), and also the forthcoming
sequel to 'Love so Long', 'So Strong a Foundation'.


Comments, as always, to w.m.richards@hrm.keele.ac.uk



 ~  Previously: Big Boys Do Fly II: Close Encounters  ~

****************

- Metropolis -


"You're not Clark!"

"No, I'm not," Conor replied thickly. He looked around him; the
surroundings were completely unfamiliar. Where were Clark and HG Wells? And
more important, *where was Laura*?

"Clark!" Lois wailed. "What happened? Why are *you* here instead of him,
Conor?"

****************


 - An Alternate Universe -


Clark stared around him with dawning horror. Lois, Conor, the mysterious
stranger and the interdimensional transport were nowhere to be seen.

No, scrub that, he thought viciously; helplessly. That was no mysterious
stranger. It was Tempus.

Tempus had taken Lois, God knew where. And he had also taken Conor, by the
looks of it.

And HG Wells, who represented his only route back to Lois, was...

...dead?


****************


Big Boys Do Fly III:  Torn Between Two Worlds



 - 348 Hyperion Avenue, Metropolis -


Conor stared helplessly at Lois, desperately trying to take in what had
happened to them. "Where are we?"

"The back yard of our - mine and Clark's - house," Lois replied in wooden
tones, as she desperately tried to think of a way out of their predicament.
She *had* to find Clark! She couldn't bear it if....

"So I got sent home with you, instead of Clark," Conor said slowly. He took
a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Could it have been a mistake? I mean,
just before it happened I was hugging you, and Clark was hugging Laura -
could that Wells guy just have taken the wrong pair?"

Lois shook her head. "He wouldn't do that. And anyway, in all the times
I've time-travelled or dimension-hopped, it's never worked like that. I've
always had to climb into the machine myself." She paused, trying to
remember. "What do you remember about it? All I can remember is saying
goodbye to you - yeah, hugging - and then there was..." she hesitated,
trying to focus, "... a bright light?"

Conor frowned. "I remember holding you, wishing you and Clark didn't have
to go so soon, but after that...." He shook his head. "There *was*
something... I don't know, I felt... weightless, my legs gave way... but I
don't remember anything between that and waking up sitting in that - thing.
Only it's gone now, too."

"And that was your way out of here and back to your world, Conor," Lois
pointed out.

He grimaced. "Yeah, and Clark's way back to you." He noticed that Lois
remained silent in response to his comment, which prompted him to add,
"What's the problem, Lois? You think Clark may not be still in my world, do
you?"

She nodded. "I don't know, Conor. This just... well, I have a horrible
feeling about this whole thing." Her voice shook as she spoke, and he
strode quickly to her side and wrapped his arm warmly around her shoulders.

"Hey, come on, Lois. For all we know, it might have been a mistake, and the
transport thing could have gone back for Clark. He could be on his way back
here right now." Conor's tone was deliberately upbeat as he tried to keep
Lois's spirits up, although he felt far less confident than he sounded.

"I just don't think so," Lois replied glumly. "I don't feel good about this
at all."

Conor stayed silent this time, reflecting that if Lois was right and
something had gone horribly wrong, Laura was alone and without his
protection. This time, it was Lois's turn to notice his tension, and she
gripped his arm. "Conor, Clark's with Laura - at least, we hope he is.
He'll look after her, you know he will."

"Yeah," Conor whispered, staring into the far distance. "He better."


*******************

 - A remote beach, an Alternate Universe -


Laura dragged herself slowly to her knees, shaking her damp and sandy hair
out of her face, and stared at Clark. "What happened? Where's Conor? Lois?"

Clark, shaken out of his initial stunned reaction, rushed at super-speed to
HG Wells and turned his body over. He then knelt beside the writer and
wiped the sand away from the man's mouth, at the same time checking for a
pulse or any trace of breathing. After a moment, he closed his eyes briefly
in silent thanks. Wells was alive, though barely.

He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, and turned to see Laura frowning at
him in concern.

"Clark - is there anything I can do?" she asked him softly, putting her own
anxiety about Conor aside in deference to the more pressing problem of HG
Wells, who looked to be in quite a sorry state.

"I think he'll be okay," Clark reassured her. "He doesn't seem to have
swallowed too much water - he was just suffocating by lying face-down. I
got to him in time."

Laura removed her light jacket and tucked it under Wells' head as Clark
placed him in the recovery position. Clark then looked assessingly at
Laura. "Are you okay? You were out of it for a minute or two...?"

She grimaced. "I think I just fainted. But what the hell happened? And
where are Lois and Conor?"

Clark's shoulders slumped. "I have absolutely no idea. There was another
man here - did you see him? - he did something to Lois and Conor which
seemed to make both of them faint. In fact," he added thoughtfully, "I seem
to be the only one who wasn't affected by whatever it was he did. But I
don't understand why that is since Conor also has super-powers."

"Did you see who it was?" Laura asked anxiously. "Who would do something
like this?"

Clark's mouth tightened, and his voice was harsh as he replied, "It was
Tempus. I didn't recognise him because of the cloak and hood he wore, but I
recognised the laugh as he disappeared. He's taken Lois and Conor."

"Why?" Laura's voice was shrill.

Several coughs came from the prone body on the sand. "Ahem, Miss Lindsay,"
Wells choked out, "Tempus usually has only one method to his madness. He
wants to stop Superman's descendants from creating Utopia."

"So he's split each of us up from our soul-mates," Clark finished grimly.


****************

 - 348 Hyperion Avenue, Metropolis -


Lois shivered; it seemed to be early morning, and Metropolis was certainly
chillier than a Caribbean beach. Conor threw her a sympathetic glance,
hesitated, then stared at her intently. Feeling waves of heat wash over
her, Lois's head shot up and she glared at Conor.

"Only *Clark* does that for me, okay?" she threw at him. The words hit him
like chips of ice, and he flinched.

"I didn't mean to... I was only trying to help, okay?" he retorted, hurt
that his attempt at kindness had been rejected so harshly.

Lois saw his expression and felt guilty. "I'm sorry... it's just... I'm
worried *sick* about Clark, and I want him back here safe, all right?"

Conor shrugged angrily. "I'm pretty frantic about Laura too, might I remind
you? And she doesn't have super-powers, unlike your husband!"

"Of course you are," Lois acknowledged, castigating herself for forgetting
that she wasn't the only one separated from her partner. "But you know
Clark will - "

"Will take care of her. I know." Conor's tone was resigned. "In the
meantime, what the hell do we do about sorting this mess out?"

Lois shivered again. "Let's get inside first of all, then decide what to do."


*****************

- An Alternate Universe -

Laura shivered as the impact of Wells' words hit home. She and Conor had
been separated. He had been taken away from her by that evil psychopath,
Tempus; the man who had tried before to ensure that she and Conor never
met, never grew up to be together. He had failed in the early 1940s, and so
he had tried again in 1999.

She glanced at Clark, instantly noticing the white lines of tension around
his mouth and eyes, the bleak expression on his face. He too was separated
>from Lois, the woman it was plainly obvious he loved more than his own
life. As much as she missed Conor, was worried about him, Clark was clearly
frantic about Lois.

She touched his arm. "Clark, I'm sure, wherever they are, they're together.
And Conor will make sure Lois is okay."

Clark covered her hand with his own, throwing her a very brief smile. "I
won't tell Lois you said that - she's pretty good at looking after herself,
and hates being told what to do. But yeah, I hope he's with her, too - at
least he can protect her with his powers if necessary."

Laura turned to Wells. "What has he - Tempus - done with them?"

Wells dragged himself to his feet, looking older and more helpless than
Clark had ever seen him. "I... I really have no idea. But - oh, dear - he
must have deduced your location by tracking either myself or the
interdimensional transport. Then he just, he just overpowered us."

Clark fixed Wells with a hard stare. "How did he do that? He made all of
you unconscious, and when I tried to grab him I felt like something threw
me backwards."

"Oh dear," Wells said again.

Clark clenched his fists, desperately trying to prevent himself shaking the
little man until Wells came up with an explanation.

"Mr Kent, I think Tempus must have brought a weapon from the future with
him. There is something I have seen, a device which works on the principle
of ultrasound. It can render people unconscious, and if anyone tries to
attack a man carrying the device, the effect is like an electric shock."

Clark assimilated the information, then asked, "So why was Conor affected
when I wasn't?"

"I honestly don't know, Mr Kent," Wells replied shakily. "Some things just
cannot be explained."

"Where could he have taken them?" Laura demanded again. She was trying hard
not to panic, but all she could think of was the memory of Lois's face when
she had told Laura about the time when Tempus, as John Doe, had been
elected president.

Wells shook his head slowly. "I can only hope that he has at least left
them together, wherever they are."

"Well, you can trace them, can't you?" Clark demanded. "The first place to
try is Metropolis - *my* Metropolis!" He ran his fingers furiously through
his hair. "Can you take me there?"

Wells shook his head again. "Mr Kent, I only wish I could. But Tempus has
taken the transport. I have no other means of taking you there."

Laura stared at him. "So does that mean you're stuck here too?"

"I... er, I, ah, I suppose I must be," Wells replied hesitantly, looking
quite alarmed at the prospect.

"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly allow that, could I, Herb?" a sardonic voice
came from somewhere. Clark whirled around; he could see no-one.

"Tempus?" he yelled angrily. "Show yourself, you monster! What have you
done with my wife?!"

"Now, now, Clark! You're letting your temper show," the voice drawled.
"It's not good for you, you know." There was a pause, then Tempus
continued, "As for dear Lois, she's safe - for the moment. I haven't quite
decided what to do with her yet. As for you and the delightful Ms Lindsay,
you will be seeing me soon!"

Suddenly a shadowy figure materialised in front of HG Wells. Clark rushed
forward at super-speed, only to find that he was grasping at thin air.
Tempus and the writer had disappeared.


*******************

 - 348 Hyperion Avenue, Metropolis -


Conor eyed the interior of the Lane-Kent household curiously as he followed
Lois into the living-room. This was nothing like the sets the studios had
used for either Clark Kent's or Lois Lane's apartments; although, he
reminded himself, that was four years ago in the lives of the two
reporters. They had been married for more than two years now; it was only
natural that they would have a house rather than the bachelor apartments
each had previously occupied.

The room was bright, airy and comfortable, with framed photographs of the
couple and other family members scattered about on shelves and occasional
tables. It was very different to his own home, but welcoming all the same.
He could easily imagine Lois and Clark being entirely at home there. His
eye was caught by a brightly-coloured object lying on the floor, and he
bent to pick it up. It was a child's toy car, a large plastic object
designed to be pushed along the floor by a toddler.

He was unprepared for Lois's reaction.

"Oh my God! Jon!" Her hands flew to her face, and her body crumpled. Conor
caught her before she hit the ground, and he deposited her gently on the
sofa.

"Lois? What's wrong?" Dumb question, he thought. What *isn't* wrong?

She turned liquid-brown eyes to him; for an instant he almost believed he
was staring at Laura. But it was more than the hairstyle which made this
woman differ from his fiancee.

"Jon - my son - he's still at Clark's parents' place!" she gasped.

Conor frowned. "He's safe there, isn't he?" He didn't understand Lois's
concern; she and Clark had explained the babysitting arrangements they had
made before leaving with HG Wells. The toddler should have been perfectly
all right. Perhaps it was delayed reaction, the strain of the last hour or
so finally taking its toll on her.

"What time is it? What *day* is it?" Lois demanded agitatedly.

Instantly grasping her point, Conor seized the television remote control
and read off the date and time. She closed her eyes briefly, then met his
gaze again. "Nine am, on the same day Wells took us. At least that hasn't
gone as horribly wrong as everything else." She heaved a sigh, then gave
him a determined look. "You'll have to fly me to Smallville."

He shrugged. "Sure, that's no problem. But I think we really need to figure
out what's happened here first. Who sent me here with you, and why. And why
Clark was sent wherever he was sent."

"If he was sent anywhere," Lois added. "I mean, he and Laura could just
still be in your world."

"They could," Conor agreed. "But my point is that you seem pretty sure that
HG Wells wouldn't have done this, which means that someone else did. And if
so, that person had a reason. And I think we're likely to find out that
reason sometime." He paused, fixing Lois with a resolute expression so like
her husband's. "I'm just not sure we want to risk getting Superman's child
involved in this situation."

Lois frowned as her brain assimilated this idea. "You mean whoever did this
may be trying to get at *Superman,* not Clark, or me, or...." She paused.
"Of course! It has to be!" She jumped to her feet. "Conor, it has to be
Tempus! No-one else would have the motive, or the means. And Tempus has
always wanted to split Clark... well, Kal-El," she amended, remembering to
whom she was speaking, "up from his soul-mate."

"And kill him - me," Conor added grimly. "And from what you and Clark told
us, he's also tried to kill you once or twice. And in my world, he did kill
the original Lois Lane."

"In which case...." Lois's hand went to her throat. "I guess we'd probably
better stay well away from Jon." She sank down on the sofa again as it sank
in that she would have to be separated from her son for even longer.

Conor grimaced crookedly. "Maybe if we just go there for a quick visit -
you could still leave him with the Kents...?" He wasn't quite sure that
even this suggestion was such a good idea if there was any possibility that
Tempus was watching them, but he could see that Lois was upset and missing
her son.

She nodded. "I'd appreciate that, Conor. I hear what you're saying, but you
know, it's not as if Tempus won't know Clark and I have a son."

"You mean he'd go after Jon anyway?" Conor asked, incredulous. "Do you
think it'd be better if we brought him back here, where at least I can
protect him?"

<And have Jon confused, thinking Conor is Clark?> Lois wondered bitterly.
"No, I think I'd prefer him to stay with Jonathan and Martha until we
figure a way out of this." She paused then, considering for a moment before
continuing. "I'd better just give them a call for now - there isn't really
time to go there before I'm due at the Planet."

Conor's expression seemed to scream incredulity that Lois would think about
going into work at a time like this. Lois, however, glared at him. "I
*have* to get to work - there's no way I'm going to tell Perry about what's
happened, and anyway with the facilities at the Planet I might be able to
find out whether Tempus has been seen anywhere in this world recently."

"You mean *we* might," Conor replied abruptly. When Lois stared at him in
amazement, he explained. "How are you going to explain Clark's absence? Yet
more excuses about meeting a source? I'll come with you, as Clark." When
her expression suggested she would reject the idea he added, "Look, Lois,
we're in this together. I want to get home to Laura as much as you want
Clark back. And I think we need to work together on this."

"You're not a journalist," Lois objected. "I know when the other Clark was
here he pretended to be my Clark, but at least he knew the paper, the
people, how to behave...."

Conor pulled a face. "Lois, I'm an actor. And I've played Clark Kent, Daily
Planet reporter, on TV for over a year - how hard can it be?"


*****************

 - California, An Alternate Universe -


The flight back to Santa Monica had been almost unbearable, Laura reflected
as she made coffee back at the house. Clark had carried her in his arms, of
course, but she was used to flying with Conor like that. It was hard to
come to terms with the fact that Conor was no longer here. And Clark,
dressed in the Super-suit at any rate, looked so like Conor. It would have
been so tempting to nestle against him in the way she would when with
Conor; except that this was not Conor. If nothing else, their scents were
very different; Conor used a very distinctive musky fragrance for men,
while whatever Clark used was quite different - sandalwood, she thought
abstractedly.

Clark himself had maintained a fixed, harsh expression as he had flown them
back. Laura realised that it must have been equally difficult for him: he
would be used to flying with Lois, of course, and he would have far more
memories of being with her than she, Laura, had of Conor as Superman.

But... Laura made a deliberate attempt to pull herself together. <You're
acting as if you're never going to see Conor again! That *cannot* happen!>
she told herself firmly.

Returning to the living-room with two cups of coffee, she faced Clark.
"Okay, so when can you build a time-machine so we can get our partners
back?"

Clark blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"You know - build a machine like the one Wells had. In the script I read
for the show, you did that the time Tempus went back to 1966 to kill you as
a baby."

Clark's expression cleared. "Laura, sure, I built a time-machine then. But
first, I had plans which showed me how to, and second, *this* isn't a
time-machine. It's an interdimensional transport."

"Oh...." Laura's face fell. "There's a difference?"

Clark, putting aside his own anxiety for a moment, crossed to her to place
his hands reassuringly on her shoulders. "Hey, we'll find a way through
this, trust me. Lois and I have been in worse trouble before now and we got
through it. I'll get Conor back for you, and I'll find Lois as well."

Laura sighed; she really needed to start thinking positively. "I guess Lois
would be half-way to figuring out a solution by now?"

Clark flicked her cheek lightly with his finger in an attempt to cheer her
up. "Sometimes. That's the way she is - I often just end up watching her in
disbelief. Forget all the things I can do - I just can't keep up with her
when she goes off on some tangent and comes up with a brilliant solution."
He paused, staring into the middle distance as if remembering, then
released Laura, taking a step back. "But don't underestimate yourself.
Conor told me how you figured out who he really is - that was pretty smart."

She shrugged. "I don't know - I just noticed a few things over the months,
and then when he kept us in the air after that accident on-set, it all just
fell into place."

"Not for him," Clark pointed out softly.

"Okay," Laura said matter-of-factly, thinking that however nice Clark was
being, it wasn't getting them anywhere. "So what do we do now? Hope that Mr
Wells is okay and that he can come back for you?"

But Clark shook his head, a discouraging expression on his face. "I'm not
sure that we can count on him. We have absolutely no idea what Tempus might
have done with him."

"But what if an older version of him, knowing that Tempus did this, comes
instead?" This seemed possible to Laura; she couldn't actually see HG Wells
wanting this mixed-up situation to continue for any longer than was
absolutely unavoidable.

Clark considered this for a moment or two before responding. "I guess it's
possible - always supposing Tempus didn't just kill him. But..." he paused
for a moment, then added, "Well, Tempus had opportunities to kill Wells
before now, and he didn't take them. We sort of got the idea that he quite
likes having Wells around - sees him as a challenge."

"Well, maybe he will come then." Laura made herself sound positive; it was
the only way to get through this situation, she reflected. She had to
convince herself that she would see Conor again.

It was hard, now, for her to remember a time when Conor hadn't been a major
part of her life. Even before the unforgettable day when they had not only
realised that he was actually Superman in reality, but had also discovered
their mutual love, Conor had been important to her.

When they had first met, at auditions, she had been impressed by Conor's
strong physique and obvious good looks, but hadn't taken the trouble to
notice anything else about him. Even on the first time they had been
required to kiss for the cameras, she had simply regarded it as another
part of the job, a mechanical task which had to be performed with strict
precision. And yet, gradually, almost in the same way as Lois had warmed to
Clark, she had realised that Conor was actually a very down-to-earth, funny
and downright nice guy, and they had gradually become friends. She had
really missed him during the summer interregnum, and their reunion when
they started work on the second season had been that of two close friends.

When she had fallen in love with him, she couldn't have said; all she had
known was that she gradually found it very hard to separate her feelings
for Conor from what she was sure were her character's underlying feelings
for Clark. When he had invaded her dreams for the fourth night in
succession, she had given up trying to pretend that he was simply a friend,
and had begun to look for an opportunity to ask him out. Then there had
been that morning in his trailer, when he had completely unself-consciously
stripped off his shirt in front of her, and she had been unable to stop
herself staring hungrily at him. She had wanted to run her hands over his
chest; instead, she had simply, involuntarily, looked. And he had caught
her at it, and if they hadn't been disturbed, who knew what might have....

But in any case, later that day things had resolved themselves, and other
than getting used to being engaged to someone with a double life and two
jobs to match, she had been blissfully happy ever since.

Until now....

How would she cope if she never saw Conor again?


****************

 - The Daily Planet, Metropolis -


Conor glanced around him self-consciously yet again, trying to be
unobtrusive about it. Despite his over-confident assurances to Lois, he did
not particularly relish playing the role of Clark Kent for real. He was
still only getting used to being Superman after playing the Super-hero on
TV for over a year; to take on the Clark Kent persona in real life as well
was almost more of a challenge than he could handle. Sure, he knew quite a
lot of Clark's history, and by the look of it many of the Planet staff
looked exactly like the actors who had played them in his world, so he was
unlikely to make mistakes by failing to recognise someone Clark worked with
every day... unless, of course, there had been some staff changes at the
Planet. That was quite likely, he thought wryly; it had been four years
since the stage in Clark's career the second season of the show had
depicted. Although, so far, he had been fortunate enough not to encounter
anyone he hadn't recognised; even Jimmy looked identical to the actor who
had played the role in the second season of the TV show. Dustin Frayling
would be amused if he knew that he, not the first-season actor, was the
counterpart of the real Jimmy, Conor thought inconsequentially.

And, just as in the TV show, Jimmy called Clark 'CK'. That was helpful;
once Conor had heard the youthfully enthusiastic voice call across the
newsroom, "Hey, CK!" he had instantly known that the speaker had to be
Jimmy, even before he had caught sight of the young man. Jimmy was as
puppyish in his enthusiasm and eagerness as his TV counterpart had played
the role, though this Jimmy was some years older and clearly more
experienced. He was a little taller and considerably thinner than Dustin
had been; but then, this Jimmy was about four years older. It was clear
that Jimmy also considered himself to be a good friend of 'CK's;' Conor
just hoped that if the younger man suggested a beer after work he would be
able to continue the deception and make appropriate responses to any
comments.

The interior of the Planet was also in some respects similar to the set the
TV company had used, which Conor found surprising. Okay, the ceiling was
real; there were no overhead lights and boom microphones and wires trailing
everywhere. The desks also looked as if they were used, instead of simply
having had a few pieces of paper scattered on them for the sake of
'authenticity,' and the computers were real. Yet despite these differences,
Conor had almost experienced a sense of deja-vu when he had followed Lois
through the elevator doors into the newsroom....

Once Lois had been persuaded that he should masquerade as Clark, she had
led the way upstairs and shown him the bathroom and spare bedroom, and had
then disappeared into her own room, returning a couple of minutes later
with a full change of clothing and a spare pair of Clark's glasses. He had
dressed quickly and then styled his hair as Clark did, making use of the
men's styling product which he'd noticed in the bathroom. When Lois had
returned, he had noticed her instant shock and withdrawal with no surprise
at all; after all, he would have been equally disturbed to see Lois looking
exactly like Laura.

Recognising that this was difficult for her, he had deliberately tried to
distract her. "So, are we ready to go?"

"You're not," she had replied bluntly. At his questioning glance, she had
added, "Your hair. You can't go out like that."

"What's wrong with my hair?" he had demanded. "I did it exactly like...."
<Clark> he had finished silently.

"It's too long," she had told him abruptly. "Clark wears his a lot shorter
now. You'll have to cut it."

<But Laura likes my hair this length> he had objected silently, but decided
not to say it aloud. She was right: there was no way he could appear in the
Planet newsroom with hair a couple of inches long than Clark's had been
only the day before.

"Okay," he had conceded resignedly. "I'll need a couple of mirrors...."

"Bathroom," she had instructed quickly before leaving him to it.

So he had shorn a couple of inches off his hair, using his photographic
memory to remember exactly how Clark's hair had looked. When he'd finished,
he would, himself, have been hard put to tell his reflection apart from the
real Clark Kent.

In the car, Lois's attitude had made it clear that she would prefer to pass
the journey in silence, but Conor had felt that there were things he needed
to be aware of if he was to pass himself off successfully as Clark. Sure,
he was a professional actor, *and* he had played Clark for the TV show
until a few weeks ago - and from everything Clark had said, 'their' Daily
Planet was pretty much the same as the real thing - but this was, in
effect, a live performance. No rehearsal. No re-takes if he made a mistake.
He had to *be* Clark Kent, and that included knowing exactly how Clark
addressed colleagues, any particular habits Clark was known for, and the
regular daily routine.

So now here they were at the Planet, and he was doing his best to act like
a busy working journalist - however a busy working journalist behaves, he
reflected wearily. He wasn't entirely sure what he should be doing, but he
had booted up Clark's computer and was now trying to make it appear that he
was busy writing up a story; in fact, he had started by trying to piece
together an account of what had happened on that beach in the Caribbean.
This, however, had ceased as soon as Perry White had strolled over and
demanded to know when 'Clark' would be ready to turn in his story on some
pensions fraud.

<Help!> Conor had thought, surreptitiously glancing over at Lois to see
whether she had caught this exchange. It seemed that she hadn't, so he had
given Perry what he hoped was a realistic, Clark-like, confident smile and
a response that the story would be finished by lunchtime. This had seemed
to satisfy the editor, since he had simply grunted and walked off.

So now Conor was faced with the task of producing a newspaper article on an
investigation he knew nothing about. Playing Clark Kent on television had
certainly not prepared him for this. Lois had still seemed to be occupied
with whatever was engaging her attention, so he had turned his attention to
Clark's hard drive. It hadn't been too difficult to find the files relating
to Clark's current stories; the man appeared to be highly organised, unlike
his wife judging by the clutter on Lois's desk. He quickly found the draft
of the pensions article, and realised that although it was substantially
complete, there were missing chunks where Clark had inserted a note to
himself to 'do more research' or 'add piece on motive/evidence'. <Okay>
thought Conor, <so where do I go from here?>

He searched Clark's desk; the surface area was almost empty, but in one of
the drawers he found a file which seemed to relate to this story. Quickly
glancing around to ensure that no-one was watching him, he read the
contents of the file at super-speed. Some of the information Clark had
wanted to add was there, so in the absence of any other solution - and
given that he was anxious not to arouse any suspicions or do anything which
might cause trouble for Clark later - Conor wrote a couple of additional
paragraphs dealing with the material which Clark had signalled was
necessary, doing his best to emulate Clark's style as he did so.

As he was finishing, he became aware of someone approaching; he
concentrated briefly with his super-senses and realised that it was Lois.
Turning to greet her with a deliberate smile intended for public
consumption, he murmured softly, "I really need to talk to you."

"I'll bet you do," she replied almost under her breath, but knowing that he
could hear her. "What are you doing with Clark's files?"

She was now leaning against his desk, a mere couple of feet from him, so he
could speak quietly. "Your editor wanted this story today, so I thought I'd
better make it look like I was doing some work."

Lois turned her attention to the computer screen, clearly scanning his
additions. He noticed her frown, then look taken aback; possibly his work
was better than she'd expected. As she straightened, however, all she said
was, "You'd better email this to me when you're done so I can take a look
at it. I know Clark's style better than he does and if anything's wrong I
can fix it."

Conor raised an eyebrow in resigned amusement. Clearly his work couldn't be
all that bad or she would never have suggested that she would just look it
over. If she'd really thought it was terrible, she would just have taken
over. He simply nodded, then added, "We should try to get out of here at
lunchtime - talk, see whether either of us has come up with anything."

She simply nodded at that, adding quietly, "I really want to see Jon later."

"I haven't forgotten," he assured her. "Whenever you want to go, I'll take
you."

She went back to her own desk, leaving him to get on with the story; when
he'd done all he could on that and sent it to her, he set to work at
figuring out all the databases to which the Daily Planet had access. He
wasn't entirely sure what he was searching for, but he entered 'Tempus' and
'time travel' as part of his searches. To his surprise, he found some
matches, but upon reading the information provided he discovered that it
referred to the time when Tempus had escaped from the asylum and been
elected President. Lois and Clark had told him and Laura about that
incident the day they'd gone to Smallville. <So Tempus is known of in this
world> he reflected <but only as a deranged mental patient and criminal.>

He sat back in his chair and pondered the situation. Not being an
investigative reporter like his counterpart, he was unused to looking at
complicated situations and thinking his way logically through them; his
powers of deduction, he supposed, were sadly under-used. Without the
intervention of HG Wells, he could see no way out of this predicament; he
certainly had no idea where to find an... an interdimensional transport,
Lois had called it. And he simply could not remember what had happened to
Mr Wells in the confusion on the beach. But if Wells had not travelled with
them to Metropolis, did that mean that he was still in Conor's own
dimension? And if so, surely Clark would be able to work with him to find
some solution, assuming that Tempus had removed the transport from Wells'
reach.

Lois had mused aloud, on the journey into the Planet - during which Conor
had been silently amused to discover that she really did drive a silver
Jeep Grand Cherokee, though a newer model than his show had used - about
the possibility of getting some scientist friend of theirs to help. A Dr
Bernard Clint... no, Klein, that was the man's name. It seemed the
scientist worked at STAR Labs, which was news to Conor; although STAR Labs
had occasionally featured in the TV show, it had never been suggested that
Lois, Clark or Superman had a special relationship with any of its staff.
Now it appeared that Klein was in a sense Superman's personal physician.
Conor hadn't quite worked out whether Klein was aware of Superman's real
identity, and hadn't wanted to risk antagonising Lois by enquiring. He had
already had a lecture from her about being very careful in the use of his
powers and the need to ensure that *no-one* became suspicious about either
Superman or Clark.

He frowned as he considered Lois's hostility towards him. It had started
the instant she had realised that he, rather than Clark, occupied the seat
beside her in the transport as it had settled in the back yard of her home.
He understood perfectly the reason for it: it certainly couldn't be easy
for her, being separated from her husband and fearing that she might never
see him again, while at the same time being confronted with a man who
looked identical to Clark, was even wearing his clothes and pretending to
be her husband. But he just wished that she would remember that he was also
missing Laura - and while Lois and Laura did not look identical, due to
different hairstyles and preference in clothes, she *sounded* like Laura,
and with longer hair it would be difficult to tell them apart.

His musings were interrupted suddenly as his super-hearing kicked in;
someone was calling for help, and it sounded serious. There was no way that
Superman could fail to respond, and he glanced around resignedly to ensure
that he could make his exit undetected. There was no way that he wanted to
endanger Clark's relationship with his work colleagues by any careless
behaviour. No-one was paying him any particular attention, and so he
hurried off in the general direction of the restrooms, ducking around the
corner to the fire escape once out of sight of the newsroom.


****************

Lois noticed Conor hurrying out of the newsroom and slumped in her chair,
muscles she hadn't even realised she had been tensing instantly relaxing.
It had been sheer torture sitting at her desk and continually catching
glimpses of him, sitting at Clark's desk which was directly in her line of
vision, using Clark's computer, looking *exactly* like Clark; but not
Clark. Her first instinct had been right, she reflected: she should have
insisted that he stay at home and let her tell Perry that Clark was sick.
Maybe they could still do that, she mused; she would tell Conor, when he
returned, to plead a headache or something and go back to the house. She
couldn't possibly make it through the day with him there.

It wasn't that she disliked Conor, she acknowledged wearily. Far from it;
after that first awkward half-hour or so both she and Clark had come to
like their counterparts enormously, and all four had very much enjoyed
their 'time out' in the Caribbean. But however much she liked him, Conor
was not Clark; she now faced separation from Clark for God-knew how long,
and having to *pretend* that Conor was Clark was just... more than she
could stand.

And telling Jonathan and Martha what had happened had been very painful
too, she remembered, her mind drifting back to that telephone conversation
before they had left the town house. It hadn't been quite the most
difficult conversation she had ever had with Clark's parents: that had been
the time she'd had to call them after Tempus had managed to send Clark into
eternity. On that occasion, she really had believed that he was gone for
ever. This time, as far as she knew he was simply stranded in another
dimension, while one of his alternate counterparts was in Metropolis in his
place.

The Kents had assured her that Jon was fine, that he seemed to be very
content to be with his grandparents and that they were perfectly happy to
keep him for the time being. Lois was only slightly reassured at this, as
she had felt a little hurt that her son should be so happy away from her.
Martha had been as supportive as ever, soothing Lois and stating with
confidence her belief that Clark would find a way home to Lois. Jonathan
had added that if Conor was in any way like Clark, he would also do his
best to right the situation. Lois was less sure about that: after all,
Conor had only been Superman in his world for a very short time, and as far
as she could tell, he was not as resourceful as Clark. No, she reflected;
if it was up to her and Conor to find a way out of this, it would be her
own efforts which would find a solution.

She grimaced, realising that she couldn't sit at her desk in contemplation
all day without inviting unwanted attention, and forced herself to focus on
work. Turning her attention to her computer screen, she noticed that the
minimised icon representing her mailbox was blinking; on calling it up, she
noticed that at some point Conor must have sent her Clark's pensions fraud
story. Sighing, she opened the file in the expectation of having to do
substantial rewriting. However, she was thoroughly taken aback to discover
that the sections Conor had added - which he had clearly marked as
additions for her benefit - were actually pretty good. The style was also
very similar to Clark's: he must have spent some time studying Clark's
writing style, Lois realised. All that was required for her to do was to
make a couple of minor stylistic changes in keeping with the Planet's house
style guide; nothing of substance needed altering.

Some time later, she was conscious of someone hovering behind her; without
turning around, she knew that it was Conor. <What now?> she thought
ill-humouredly. <Can't he even think of a decent excuse to cover his
absence as Superman?>

She turned to face him, at the same time as he took a further step towards
her and placed a hand caressingly on her shoulder. Taking a sharp intake of
breath, she gazed deliberately down at his hand and then glared at him. He
bent and inclined his head towards her, a half-smile on his lips which
didn't quite appear to reach his eyes.

"Lois," he murmured softly, his tone gentle and his words low enough not to
be overheard, "we have a problem."

"Yes?" Her tone was not inviting.

"I overheard your colleagues talking... super-hearing... they all think
we've - or you and Clark have - had a fight, because we're not, ah... well,
being affectionate to each other the way you and he normally are. I wasn't
sure if you wanted them to go on thinking that."

Lois was silent for a moment as she considered the consequences of this. Of
course, if her colleagues believed that she and 'Clark' had fought, then
they wouldn't expect any public demonstrations of affection. On the other
hand, what *she* could expect would be well-meaning interventions from
people like Perry and Jimmy, anxious to discover what was wrong and to help
them make amends. And there would be the newsroom gossips, agog to discover
what had gone wrong for the Planet's 'perfect couple', as they had been
dubbed sardonically by one or two jealous individuals. And of course, Conor
would be at the receiving end of sympathetic glances and advances from
certain of the women in one or two other Planet departments, who had always
been attracted to Clark and would simply jump at the opportunity to take
advantage of trouble between Lois and 'Clark'.

Did she want all of that to happen? Of course she didn't.

She turned to glance at Conor. "Okay, no, I don't. But..." her voice
dropped to a whisper in the knowledge that Conor could hear her, "I
can't... *pretend* that you're Clark in that way."

He moved closer, protecting her from curious eyes with his body. "It's no
problem, Lois." His head moved even closer to hers, giving the impression
to any observers that he was whispering sweet nothings into her ear. "Trust
me here, Lois - I'm an actor, it's my job to know how to make this look
convincing. Just follow my lead."

As she nodded faintly, he swivelled her chair slightly so that, she
realised, she was more fully in view of those colleagues who sat nearby.
Keeping his hand on her shoulder, he asked, in a soft, affectionate tone
which was pitched at a level designed to project some distance away, "So
I'm forgiven, then, sweetheart?"

<Okay> Lois conceded silently, <this should be simple enough.> She smiled
in return, realising suddenly that, although he had placed her in a
position where she could be seen, she wasn't in anyone's direct line of
vision and so her facial expressions would not be as visible as his - and
therefore did not need to be as convincing. "Yes, you're forgiven," she
replied, forcing a playful note into her voice.

"Good." Conor's voice was now deeper in pitch, his eyes focusing on hers.
His hand shifted from her shoulder, curving itself along her jaw and into
her hair. <Clark's caress> Lois realised with a shock, then remembered that
Conor had also touched Laura in just the same way. He must have remembered
that she had remarked on it, Lois thought, forcing herself to relax and act
as if she welcomed the caress.

His head lowered. Lois froze momentarily as she realised his intentions.
<He's going to kiss me!> she thought agitatedly. "No! - I can't do this!"
she whispered, knowing that Conor could hear her.

"Trust me, Lois," he replied softly, under his breath. He was very close
now; she could feel his breath against her face. She tried not to jerk away
as his lips touched her, but then realised in amazement that instead of
kissing her full on the lips, he was actually kissing just above her upper
lip. His mouth was moving in a parody of a passionate kiss, but it was
barely touching her own lips.

"Act as if you're kissing me back," he whispered, under cover of shifting
his grip on her. She tried to comply, closing her eyes and remembering
similar occasions when Clark had kissed her at her desk. It was still a
relief when Conor straightened.

"That's a TV technique," he murmured very quietly. "Believe me, from the
right angle it looks exactly like a real, passionate kiss - and this will
have been the right angle."

Lois nodded, feeling herself incapable of any other comment at that precise
moment. She was grateful when Conor then suggested that they should go out
for lunch; it meant a break from the need to pretend in front of the
newsroom, and a chance to recover from this faking of an intimate moment.
She allowed him to help her to her feet and into her jacket, and then led
the way out of the newsroom.


*****************

- California, an Alternate Universe -


It was past dawn, Clark noticed; he must have been flying all night. He
felt a momentary twinge of guilt at leaving Laura alone and unprotected,
but after she had departed to her own bedroom and left him to his own
devices, he had realised that he couldn't face simply going to bed in the
guest-room. Not without Lois; not with her double sleeping just down the
hall.

As he had said to Lois when they had first arrived in Santa Monica, Laura
looked exactly like Lois. He was aware that none of the other three
recognised the resemblance to the same degree, but then, neither Conor nor
Laura had seen Lois as she had been in the first couple of years of their
partnership. Laura wore her hair exactly as Lois had done then, and while
her manner was generally softer than Lois's had been in the first few
months of their acquaintance, she occasionally had flashes of the old Lane
temper which, these days, was rarely seen. The return flight from the
Caribbean had been very difficult for him; all his instincts had been to
cradle Laura tightly against him, and yet however much his body was urging
him to cuddle and caress her, his brain was reminding him that she was not
Lois, his much-loved wife and partner, but her identical, alternate-world,
twin.

Of course, as long as Lois had been with him in this alternate universe,
none of this had presented a problem. Laura had simply been Laura Lindsay,
fiancee of his counterpart Conor Kane. He had liked Laura very much, just
as he liked Conor. Now, he found it difficult to be in her company. And
yet, he recognised, he had no choice but to be in her company, for as long
as it took to get this mess sorted out. This problem had been caused by
Tempus, who no doubt had his own dastardly agenda. In fact, before leaving
Tempus had assured them that he would be back; that they would be seeing
him soon. Clark had no doubt at all that this would not be a friendly visit.

He landed silently in the shadowed end of Conor's large garden and,
spinning quickly into his jeans and T-shirt, walked swiftly back towards
the house. Lowering his glasses, he saw that Laura was in the kitchen
making coffee. She looked tired and there were dark shadows under her eyes;
she had also not taken her usual trouble over her hair and clothes. He felt
a pang of guilt at not having been there when she had come down; clearly
she had not been able to sleep either.

Striding into the kitchen, he greeted her kindly; she spun around to stare
at him.

"Clark! I - I thought you must be upstairs still."

He grimaced, shaking his head. "I couldn't sleep - I went out flying." He
accepted the coffee she offered him, adding, "Did you manage to sleep at
all?"

She shook her head, her dark hair swinging lightly around her face. "Not
really. I kept seeing Conor on that beach... collapsing.... Clark, what if
this Tempus killed him?" she asked fearfully.

He smiled, he hoped reassuringly, at her. "I don't think he's done that -
apart from anything else, he didn't have any Kryptonite with him. I don't
know what he's done with them, but something tells me they're not harmed in
any way." Not yet, he added silently. He sighed deeply. "I guess, from what
Tempus said before he left, that he's got plans - he intends to take his
own good time over this."

He fell silent then, leaning against the counter as he stared broodingly
into his coffee. There was another very real fear which was preying on his
mind, which he had not so far allowed Laura to guess at, and that concerned
Jon. If Tempus was in Metropolis, if he intended to try yet again to
prevent the creation of Utopia, then he would also have to kill the son of
Clark Kent and Lois Lane - unless he had some evil plan in mind to subvert
the child. If he and Lois were out of the way, and Jon was brought up by
someone with, for example, the ethics of a Tempus or a Lex Luthor, the end
result might well be the same - if not worse. An evil Super-being... it
didn't bear thinking about.

And it could happen, Clark reflected. He recalled his conversation with
Lois on the night they had spent together in this house. He had argued that
upbringing
had a lot to do with the differing personalities and ethics of the three
Supermen they knew: he, Conor and the other Clark. Being brought up by
Martha and Jonathan Kent had been a major influence on his own thinking and
morality, Clark was aware; it was also bound to have affected the other
Clark despite his having lost his parents at the age of ten. Conor had not
had the Kents as role-models, and as such his outlook differed from Clark's
in a few respects: he had quite a pessimistic nature, and was more lacking
in self-confidence in some respects than Clark had ever been. And should
the one-year-old Jon Kent be taken out of his current environment and be
surrounded with amoral evil, who knew how he might end up?


He hoped that Lois had the good sense to leave Jon with his parents; he was
aware that she would want to see their son, and fully expected that she
would insist that Conor take her to Smallville. But he really did not want
Jon brought back to Metropolis. He refused, however, to allow himself to
admit that part of this reluctance was due to the possibility of Jon
believing that Conor was his father.

It had only been in the past month or so that Jon had begun to speak; he
called Clark Da-Da and Lois Mama now, and was beginning to learn other
baby-words. As soon as he saw Clark each morning now, the toddler held out
his arms to be lifted out of his crib, and then wanted to be placed on the
floor from where he could walk in a few tottering steps across to his
father; he would then cling to Clark's lower leg and scream delightedly for
Clark to take a few steps with Jon hanging onto his leg. Then there were
rituals connected with mealtimes, bath-times, bedtime; playtime in the
living-room where Clark would wave Jon's toys around just out of the
child's reach while Jon shouted excitedly as he tried to grab them. Then
Clark would swing his son up and carry him around the room on his shoulder,
something Lois now found difficult since the one-year-old was getting quite
heavy. The thought that Conor might take his place in these rituals was
something Clark found very difficult to accept.

He forced himself to concentrate on his surroundings then as he realised
that Laura was watching him through lowered eyelashes. "Sorry - I was miles
away," he apologised.

But she shook her head. "No problem. I guess you're thinking about the same
thing as I am."

He gave her a wry smile. "I guess." He took a deep breath, telling himself
that he needed to stop brooding and concentrate on dealing with the
situation. The problem was that, so far, no solution had occurred to him;
the hours spent flying had not even given him the barest germ of an idea.

"So what do we do now?" Laura asked, running her hand through her loose,
unstyled hair. "Try to contact HG Wells?"

"I wish I could," Clark replied. "I've never been able to, though - he
tends to contact us when he needs us."

She nodded, as if this made sense to her. Shifting away from her position
leaning against the counter opposite Clark, she remarked, "I suppose I
should go take a shower and get dressed properly."

"Yeah, me too," he agreed.

Laura halted on her way out of the kitchen. "Clark, I... I don't know what
you thought we should do for the immediate future, but... well, I think
maybe you should pretend to be Conor for now. I mean, just in case anyone
should see you - well, we don't want to have to explain where Conor's gone,
or who you are, do we?"

Clark stilled; that hadn't occurred to him. "I guess you're right. So - I
need to look like him, right? No glasses, casual hairstyle?"

"That should do," Laura replied. "You can borrow any of his clothes you
need as well."

A couple of hours later, Clark sat across from Laura on one of the sofas in
the large, airy lounge as she briefed him on things which she felt he ought
to know about Conor and about the two of them. He was feeling a little
awkward without his customary glasses, and had to keep reminding himself
that they were not an essential part of his disguise in this world. As they
talked, they were interrupted suddenly by the sound of a buzzer; Laura
looked perturbed and explained that there was someone at the gates of the
house. The buzzer sounded again, twice, impatiently; Laura sighed and
muttered that she'd better see who it was.

Clark, left to his own devices momentarily, found himself listening in on
Laura's conversation with his super-hearing. Shocked, he heard a female
voice, distorted by the electronic intercom, mounting a tirade.

"...and I realised that if I waited until you invited me to come and visit
I'd still be waiting next year! To think that I have to stand at the gate
and *ask* for *permission* to come in and see my *own*...."

Laura's mother, Clark thought with a resigned grin. He didn't even have to
see the woman to know that he was about to meet Karen Lindsay (who had been
Karen *Lane* before she'd married, he mused). Of course, Laura's mother was
actually related to Sam
Lane, he reminded himself, going over in his mind what he knew of Laura's
family tree. Karen Lindsay was the daughter of Sam Lane's brother and so,
he realised, there was actually no reason why she should be anything like
Ellen Lane. But from the sound of that brief harangue....

Laura came hurrying back into the room at that moment, an apologetic,
harassed expression on her face.

"I'm sorry, Clark, but it's - "

"Your mother," he finished in a sympathetic tone.

"Yeah. I've had to tell her to come on in," she replied, looking anxious.

"Of course you did," Clark reassured her. "Look, it's okay. Just tell me
quickly - how well does she know Conor?"

Laura shrugged. "Not all that well. She's met him about three or four times
- we all went out for a meal and spent the next day together when she
visited LA last year, then I took Conor home with me for a day a few months
ago."

"What does he call her?" Clark enquired, not wanting to make any mistakes
which would be noticed.

"Karen," Laura informed him. "Oh - and he'd probably kiss her cheek or
something like that. He's pretty... courtly with older women."

<That's pretty much what I'd do> Clark reflected, thinking that it was
probably his parents' example which led him to treat his elders with
respect. He certainly wouldn't have called Lois's mother 'Ellen' on such
short acquaintance, but then Conor and Laura were engaged. Perhaps Conor
had talked with Karen Lindsay on the telephone as well, he thought, but
didn't get an opportunity to ask Laura since they were interrupted by the
ringing of the doorbell.

Thinking that, since this was Conor's house, he should show some sort of
welcome to 'his' future mother-in-law, Clark followed Laura out to the door
and stood just behind her as she admitted her mother.

Physically, Karen Lindsay bore no resemblance at all to Ellen Lane; if
anything, she resembled Sam Lane. She was not especially tall, but her
bone-structure and the shape of her eyes were very reminiscent of Sam,
Clark thought; he wondered idly what Laura's father looked like.

But he was given no opportunity to continue this train of thought, since
Karen Lindsay was marching smartly across the hall towards him, talking
non-stop as she went.

"I must say, I would never have imagined that my daughter would get engaged
and *not* invite me to celebrate with her and my future son-in-law. I
really think it's most discourteous behaviour of you both, leaving me to
make my own way out here to see you. Anyone would think that your mother
was *unwelcome,*  Laura. If your father was alive to see how you treat me,
he'd turn in his grave...."

Trying not to show his amusement at this piece of illogicality, or in fact
the uncanny resemblance to Ellen Lane at her most verbose, Clark stepped
forward to touch the older woman's arm. "It's good to see you, Karen," he
murmured, bending to plant a kiss on her cheek. "And I'm sorry we hadn't
managed to invite you here yet - it's just been really busy over the last
few weeks, you know? Moving Laura in here, getting engaged, dealing with
the Press...." He let the sentence hang, hoping for his counterpart's sake
that Mrs Lindsay would accept the explanation. It would at least be some
small thing Clark could do for Conor if he ensured that the man's future
mother-in-law didn't bear a grudge against her daughter's fiance.

As the morning progressed, Clark did his best to present a convincing
impersonation of Conor; he appeared to be succeeding, he thought. Or
perhaps it was simply that Karen Lindsay seemed to be similar to Ellen Lane
in other respects as well? She certainly seemed to be quite self-centred,
he thought with some relief. While she pursued with great vigour a
discussion about wedding plans, her aim appeared to be to ensure that Conor
and Laura got married with as much publicity - and as much exposure for the
bride's mother - as possible.

Allowing his mind to wander a little as Laura and her mother discussed
bridesmaids' dresses - with no great show of enthusiasm on Laura's part,
Clark noted - it occurred to him that Karen Lindsay was actually from out
of town. Did this mean that she was expecting to be invited to stay? His
heart sank at the prospect. It was not so much that he felt dread at the
prospect of a day or two in the company of someone who resembled his own
mother-in-law; he was by now well accustomed to handling Ellen Lane, and he
felt confident that he had now achieved a good and warm relationship with
her. It was the thought that he would have to continue pretending to be
Conor, in the company of the woman who would be Conor's mother-in-law. He
would be carrying on the masquerade while being observed at close quarters,
and by someone who would expect him to be intimate with Laura.

He had done his best to give the impression of a man deeply in love; he had
sat next to Laura on the sofa and draped his arm around her shoulders,
taking her hand in his free one. She had played her part as well, giving
him loving glances every so often; Clark could see why Laura Lindsay was so
highly regarded as an actress. He could see that her glances and smiles did
not reach her eyes, but no-one who was any further away from her would be
able to tell.

Just when he was despairing at the thought that Mrs Lindsay was surely
intending to stay, she got to her feet and announced that she had to drive
into Beverly Hills to meet a friend. It seemed they had plans for lunch and
shopping on Rodeo Drive. Laura shot a quick glance at Clark, at once
apologetic and long-suffering, before turning back to her mother.

"Would you like me to come with you, Mother?" she enquired sweetly.

"Well, I did hope that you'd come," Karen replied in a long-suffering tone.
"We haven't even got around to discussing your engagement party yet, and I
simply have to choose something to wear for that. And I want to talk to you
about where we're going to hold it. Beverly Hills is simply too passe these
days, and *I* thought we should consider chartering a plane and holding the
party in New York." She got to her feet and collected her things before
turning to face Clark. "So, Conor, I'd like you to start putting together a
list of your friends and family so that we know how many invitations we
need to have printed...."

"*Mother*!" Laura interrupted. "Can we talk about this another time,
please? I'm not even sure... I mean, Conor and I don't know if we want any
fuss about this, let alone an engagement party."

Karen swept out the door, leaving Laura to trail along helplessly behind
her. As Clark stood, Laura turned back to throw him a regretful, apologetic
glance; Clark gestured that it was okay and that he'd see her later.

"I'm sorry, Clark," Laura murmured under cover of her mother's babbling.
"I'll be back as soon as I can...."

Lois would have appreciated this, Clark thought as the door slammed behind
the two Lindsay women. She would probably also have taken Laura aside later
and warned her about the problems inherent in allowing her mother too much
of a say over the wedding plans, he reflected with a wry smile, remembering
his own appalled disbelief over plans for Swiss bell-ringers, white doves
and far more guests than he had ever wanted at his wedding.

Still, he was now alone for at least three hours, he recognised, dragging
his attention back to the present. Time to take a flight around the city,
perhaps; he could cover for Conor by allowing Superman to be seen out and
about, while at the same time he could try yet again to think of a way out
of this mess.


****************

- 348 Hyperion Avenue, Metropolis -


Reluctant though she was to admit it, Lois realised that the 'romantic
interlude' she and Conor had faked at the Planet that morning had helped
her to relax in his company and had banished much of her resentment of him.
She supposed that at some subconscious level she might have suspected, or
feared, that he would want to take Clark's place, and as such she had been
ready to resist any such moves. But Conor did not want to do that; it was
plain to her now that he wanted to get back to his own world, and to his
fiancee, as much as she wanted Clark back. Conor was nothing like the Clark
>from the other alternate universe; although Lois was fond of that Clark,
she had been alarmed when he had stepped over the invisible line between a
friend who was helping out, and someone who was trying to muscle in on
Clark's territory. Twice that Clark had pleaded with Lois to love him; it
had been clear that he was so lonely, so alone, in his own world, and at
the time there had been no Lois Lane in that world.

She remembered HG Wells' comment that the other Clark had now found the
Lois of his own world, and briefly she felt pleased for him. He didn't
deserve to be alone and unhappy.

Conor, on the other hand, had everything he wanted in his own world, and
Lois knew now that she had no need to protect herself, or Clark's
interests, from him. He was no predator; he had no wish to usurp Clark's
position. From something he had said over the lunch they had shared in a
sandwich bar, it was clear that he understood perfectly her fears on the
subject: he had remarked that, Tempus aside, it was just as well that Jon
was staying with the Kents for the time being, since it wouldn't be fair to
confuse the child. Lois suspected that Conor had also felt that it would
not be fair to Clark for him to spend time with Jon.

Back in the newsroom that afternoon, Conor had surprised her still further.
They had agreed that they had to behave as Lois and Clark would normally,
which meant getting each other coffees, touching affectionately any time
they passed each other, and giving each other long, loving glances.
Surprisingly enough, this hadn't been difficult, Lois now realised. Conor
had made it easier for her by, over lunch, teaching her a few techniques
used by experienced actors when performing romantic or erotic scenes for
the cameras. Reminding herself continually that it was all pretence had
helped enormously.

But towards the end of the afternoon, they had been seated together at
Clark's desk going through the details of a profile Lane and Kent had been
writing for the Saturday edition, when one of the Planet's travel writers
had approached. Carl had spoken to Conor on the pretext of asking his
opinion of Peru, a country which he knew Clark had visited. It was obvious
to Lois that Conor had never been to Peru in his life, but he had
maintained a reasonably convincing conversation with Carl for a few minutes
before the older man had wandered off again.

Lois had thrown Conor an apologetic glance. "Sorry about that - it's
just... well...." She had trailed off with a grimace, unsure of how to
continue.

He had given her a conspiratorial grin. "No problem. Let me guess - he
fancies Clark?"

Lois had stared at him. "Well, yes... I mean, most people around here know
that, but you wouldn't believe how long it took for Clark to realise.... He
just hasn't a clue about how attractive he is, and he had no idea Carl's
gay."

Conor had laughed aloud, causing a number of heads to turn in their
direction; he had fended off the attention by pretending to share a joke
with Lois before returning to the original subject. "He's a bit... well,
not exactly worldly, isn't he?" he had murmured with an amused smile. "Not
that there's anything wrong with that, of course!" he had added quickly
before Lois could take offence. Not that she had been going to; she agreed
with Conor on that score.

And now they were about to travel to Smallville to see Jon; Lois had called
Jonathan and Martha to let them know they could expect visitors in about
half an hour. She was still a little unsure about flying with Conor,
however: no matter how relaxed she had become in his company, she was still
about to fly several hundred miles in his arms - the arms of a man who
looked exactly like this world's Superman, a man with whom Lois had flown
hundreds of times. Still, she wanted - needed - to see Jon, and unless she
wanted to fly by conventional means, she was going to have to let Conor
take her.

If Lois had only realised it, Conor was no more looking forward to the
flight than she was. He didn't particularly relish the prospect of carrying
Lois in his arms for the duration of such a long journey. For one thing,
she did look, and sound, too like Laura, and he was really missing his
fiancee now. But he was also very nervous at the prospect of meeting
Jonathan and Martha Kent. If things had gone as planned, the Kents of his
world would have been his parents, and he already felt envious of Clark's
evidently happy childhood.

He wondered idly whether the Kents would also physically resemble the
actors who had played them in the show; so far, all of the familiar
characters from the TV show had resembled their real-life counterparts. It
seemed very strange that this should be the case, particularly as, in some
cases, there were real-life counterparts in his world as well. Martha and
Jonathan Kent, for instance, had existed, but had died a few years earlier.
If Clark's parents looked like the show's actors, had the real Kents in
Conor's world also looked like these Kents?

He shook his head; all this alternate universe stuff was difficult enough
to cope with, without figuring out the added complication of Clark Kent's
life being mirrored in the Marner Sisters TV show. Right now, he had to
focus on taking Lois to Smallville to see her son. He wondered wryly
whether he would be allowed to see young Jon Kent; although he was very
conscious of all the reasons why it would be sensible for the child not to
see *him*, he did like the idea of seeing the child he and Laura might have
in the future.

Time to go, he realised, as Lois came down the stairs dressed in a warm
jacket and holding a small bag. He quickly spun into his Superman outfit
and turned to her. "You'd better tell me the best way to make a discreet
exit."


*****************

- Smallville, Kansas -


Conor landed softly in the dark shadows of the yard behind the Kents'
house, thinking with irony of their visit to the Smallville of his world
just two days earlier. He had never imagined, at that point, that he would
be visiting what he thought of as the real Kent farmhouse; but then,
neither had he imagined that he would be living in Metropolis, masquerading
as Clark Kent. It was hard enough getting used to the reality of being
Superman, a character he had played on TV. Taking on the other half of the
Clark Kent persona was turning out to be by far the more difficult of the
roles.

He allowed Lois to slide to the ground, gratefully relinquishing his grasp
of her. Avoiding her questioning gaze, he studied the house in front of him
uncertainly; he was half-tempted to suggest to Lois that he should go
flying for an hour or so and return to pick her up later. Although he had
no doubt that Clark's parents were nice people and would make him welcome,
he felt sure that they would not be too happy to have him there while their
son was missing. He was reluctant to make them uncomfortable, and he
desperately searched for the words to explain his feelings to Lois.

But she gave him no opportunity, instead catching his arm and urging him
forward. "Come on, Conor, it's cold out here!"

Conor needn't have worried; the Kents were very welcoming despite their
obvious fears for their own son's safety. Jonathan and Martha exclaimed at
the likeness to Clark, which led Conor to explain sheepishly that he didn't
normally wear glasses; he immediately removed the pair of Clark's glasses
which he still wore.

Lois, after exchanging greetings and hugs with her parents-in-law, hurried
upstairs to Clark's old bedroom where Jon was sleeping in Clark's old crib.
Martha caught Conor glancing towards the stairs once or twice during their
conversation about Lois and Clark's visit to Conor's world, and smiled.

"Would you like to see Jon, Conor?"

Conor stilled. "Yeah, I would... but I didn't want to intrude. And the last
thing I want is to upset Lois by having Jon think I'm his dad."

"He's got a point there, Martha," Jonathan interjected.

"I don't think Lois would feel you're intruding, Conor," Martha assured him
warmly. "And as for Jon thinking you're Clark, well... he should be asleep
now, so it shouldn't arise."

Conor glanced towards the stairs again, as his super-hearing picked up the
sounds of light footsteps. A short while later, Lois strolled into the
kitchen, murmuring softly to her son as she walked. She held Jon balanced
on her hip, and he was very much awake. For an instant, Conor contemplated
excusing himself to go and wait outside; before he could do so, however, he
felt Martha Kent's hand on his arm. He shot her a surprised glance,
wondering how she had guessed his intention.

His attention was caught then by the little boy in Lois's arms; even
without the shock of black hair he would have known that this was Clark's
son. Jon Kent had turned his wide brown eyes on Conor and was simply
staring at him with a limpid expression. His heart in his mouth, Conor
waited with dread for the child to call him 'Da-Da' or something similar,
and for Lois to be angry or upset as a result.

But to his surprise, Jon's mouth curved into a curious smile before he
turned back to his mother. "Man!" he chuckled before punching Lois's arm
with his pudgy hand.

Conor couldn't help it; he gasped and stared at Martha. She smiled back at
him. "I thought that might happen. Jon knows his daddy, and he knows you're
not Clark."

Lois sat on the chair Jonathan pulled out for her, settling Jon on her
knee. "I wondered what Jon would think," she said softly. "I think I
half-expected he'd know Conor's not Clark, but that's because I know I'd
never confuse the two of them."

Conor turned to watch Jon, now bouncing on Lois's lap; the little boy
continued to eye him with open curiosity. The resemblance to Clark was
amazing, Conor thought: not just the hair and the eyes, but the shape of
the jaw and nose as well. There was also a strong hint of Lois in Jon's
smile, though; Conor found himself wondering whether a child of his and
Laura's might look anything like this adorable little toddler. He and Laura
hadn't yet talked about the possibility of children, and he suddenly
realised that he wasn't even sure whether Laura wanted kids. But he hoped
she did... the thought of, one day, having a son of his own was very
appealing.

He wasn't aware of the yearning in his expression until Martha, sitting
next to Lois and holding Jon's little hand in hers, smiled at him again.
"Would you like to hold him, Conor?"

Taken aback, Conor instinctively looked at Lois for permission; she smiled
lightly in acquiesence. Clearly she wasn't concerned; the fact that Jon had
not confused him with his father had reassured her. He held out his arms
and lifted Jon from Lois's lap to his own, cuddling the little boy against
his chest. Jon seemed quite content to be there, chattering away to himself
in some incomprehensible language as the adults around him carried on their
own conversation.

For Lois, the visit to Smallville helped her more than she could have
imagined. Jonathan Kent's quiet strength, and Martha's faith in her son,
gave Lois the mental courage she needed to carry on believing that Clark
would find a way back to her. The Kents were, of course, very concerned
about the possibility that Tempus was behind the separation of Clark from
Lois, and Conor from Laura, and they vowed to watch Jon extremely
carefully. Lois was also very touched that Conor urged the Kents to call
him at once if anything happened about which they were concerned.

As she and Conor were leaving, after she had gone upstairs to say a final
goodnight to Jon, Lois noticed a suspicious brightness in Conor's eyes as
he escorted her out into the back yard. It occurred to her that he had
seemed very surprised and gratified at the warm and friendly welcome which
he had received from Clark's parents, and again she was reminded about this
man's very different childhood. And yet he had still grown up to be his
world's Superman; a Superman not too dissimilar from Clark, in spite of
Clark's suggestion that some of Conor's 'ethics' were a little different.

He was still a man who freely gave up his own time and his abilities to
help people in distress or to assist the emergency services. She had, over
lunch, asked about the incident which had called him away from the Planet
that morning; his response, that he had gone to rescue someone who was
being mugged, and had then assisted at a freeway pile-up, had convinced
Lois that Conor was no different from Clark in respect of his need to
'help'.  It was all part of their need - their desire - to *belong,* a need
they both shared.


***************

- California, An Alternate Universe -


Clark was feeling very frustrated; not only was there no sign of Tempus
fulfilling his threat - and thereby possibly affording Clark at least a
chance of getting back to his own world - but he had very little with which
to fill in his time. Laura had been out with her mother for several hours
on the previous day, and today she had been out since dawn to fulfil a
filming commitment in respect of her current movie project.

Neither had there been much call on Superman's time. So Clark had spent
most of the time on his own, either out flying or wandering around Conor
and Laura's house; he wasn't very keen on the idea of masquerading as Conor
out and about in Beverly Hills or Los Angeles. He supposed, with a wry
grimace, that if Conor and Lois were back in Metropolis, Conor would have
the advantage that the staff at the Planet looked like the actors who had
played them in 'Lois and Clark.' So if Jimmy came up to Conor in the
street, for instance, there would at least be a chance that Conor would
know who he was.

Clark had watched some more of the videotapes of the TV series, and had
also found some other tapes in the video library which included some of the
two actors' other work; he had watched some of these with interest, as it
had shown that his new friends were indeed very talented actors. He had
also - having asked Laura's permission - made use of Conor's computer. The
script Conor was working on looked fascinating, Clark thought, and the
notes for a novel which he had stumbled across also seemed to represent
exciting work. So much for Lois dismissing these two actors as superficial
and talentless, he thought; although to be fair, she had reassessed this
view within a fairly short time of meeting the actors.

He *missed* Lois. So much.... He never could have imagined that he would
feel so lost without her, even though he had frequently commented that his
life had been meaningless before he had met her. At the bleakest point of
the night which had just passed, he had asked himself whether it would have
hurt more if Lois was dead. At least in this situation he knew - or at
least he had to believe - that she was alive, somewhere. If she had been
dead, he would not even have that comfort. And yet, being separated from
her like this, with who knew what chance of seeing each other again, was
almost worse than being separated by death, in a way. At least when someone
died, it was possible to mourn, to grieve and to learn to live again
without that special person. With what Tempus had done, such grief wasn't
possible; only frantic worry, desperate frustration and aching misery.

Perhaps at last he understood how Lois had felt when he had left her to go
with the New Kryptonians, he mused. She had known that he was leaving,
while he had had no prior knowledge of Tempus's trick; yet that would have
made little difference. When he had left with Zara and Ching, none of them
had known when, if ever, he would return. And yet Lois had been forced to
face going on with her normal life without her fiance, having to explain
Clark's absence to friends and family who did not, could not, know the
truth.

Of course, he had also been hurt, distressed, frantic at their separation
then. But he had been the one travelling - as he had thought - to the home
planet of his fellow Kryptonians, and so he had had other things on his
mind. Not least the question of how he was to deal with a marriage he
certainly did not want! He had missed Lois; but her grief and distress had
been far worse.

And it had been a similar situation for her when Tempus had managed to send
him into eternity. For quite some time after that had happened, he had been
completely unaware of his surroundings, or of what had happened to him;
when he had come to his senses and realised that he was trapped in that
tiny segment of space and time, he had of course been frightened,
distressed, grief-stricken for the relationships he had left behind him.
But again Lois had been forced to carry on, pretending to live a normal
life, fighting Tempus and consoling his parents, all the time putting on a
brave face to cover up her fear of never seeing her husband again.

He sighed heavily now, admitting to himself that - always assuming he found
a way to reunite himself with Lois, and Laura with Conor - the experience
could be beneficial to him in some respects at least. He would never again
be tempted to minimise in his own mind Lois's suffering in the past.

He got up from Conor's desk abruptly, having lost interest in the computer.
Before going out that morning, Laura had passed him a set of car keys,
telling him that he should feel free to use Conor's car if he wanted to go
out anywhere 'as yourself rather than as Superman,' she had explained.
Although they were both aware that Clark could not possibly go anywhere in
the wider Los Angeles area as himself, or even as an anonymous visitor,
Laura seemed reluctant to acknowledge the fact that he was having to
pretend to be Conor. He realised that this was perfectly understandable; he
would find it equally abhorrent if he had to pretend to other people that
Laura was Lois.

Still.... He *was* bored, and since he didn't want to go out in the Suit
again, perhaps there would be no harm in taking Conor's car for a drive up
into the mountains. Having made that decision, Clark quickly headed for the
garage, whereupon he stopped short on seeing Conor's car.

A gleaming black BMW 5-series convertible.... He swallowed. If Jimmy could
see this, the young photographer would be hugely envious. These cars were
very rare, being imports and very expensive at that. Clark had driven BMWs
before, when he'd spent time in Europe, but never one as sleek and sporty
as this model. Determined to make the most of it, he backed the car out of
the garage, operated the automatic gate mechanism, and headed for the hills.

Lois would tell him that he was acting like a little kid, he thought while
the wind ruffled his hair as he sped along taking sharp bends at a safe,
but fast, speed. 'You're pretending you're in a James Bond movie,' she
would accuse him; well, perhaps he was, but it was only for a few short
hours. And it helped to take his mind off the fact that he was missing Lois
very much. And Jon: he hoped that she had managed to see their son, partly
because he knew that she would also be missing him, but also because it
wasn't fair that Jon should suffer the absence of both his parents because
of Tempus's behaviour.

The car phone then sounded, interrupting his train of thought; he hesitated
before deciding to answer it. It was Laura, inviting him to visit the set
of her movie; she was about to have a break in filming and would be free
for a couple of hours. It would give them an opportunity to talk, to
discuss any suggestions either of them might have about finding a way out
of their problem. They would be virtually alone, she assured him; the crew
and other cast members would be busy with scenes for which she wasn't
needed.

Well, it gave him something to occupy his mind; it would allow less time
for these depressing thoughts. He turned the car around and drove in the
direction of Burbank.


*****************

- 348 Hyperion Avenue, Metropolis -


It had been a long day, Conor reflected tiredly as he let himself in
through the back door of the Kent household at around 10:30 pm. He had
certainly been used to long days as an actor, but pretending to be a
journalist - and going out on the beat with Lois, tracking down stories,
conducting interviews and doing research - was a much harder job than he
had imagined. Of course, his second job was also taking up a considerable
amount of time, he conceded as he glanced down at the rather smoky
appearance of his Super suit. Putting out a bush fire does have this
effect, he reminded himself with a wry grimace.

Lois got to her feet as he padded through to the sitting-room; he glanced
in her direction and then looked away as he caught sight of the dried tears
on her cheeks. She was taking the separation very hard, he knew. And it was
hardly surprising, after all; the depth of Lois and Clark's love for each
other had been very apparent during the couple of days when they had been
visiting his home.

He grimaced again; he was also missing Laura so much it hurt, although he
had tried to sublimate some of the pain by focusing on activity. Hence he
had gone out earlier when he'd heard a bank alarm, even though the details
he had overheard on the emergency frequency had suggested that the police
could handle the situation. It had occupied half an hour or so; half an
hour in which Lois would not have to suffer his company in her home....

If only he could comfort her... but it was not his comfort she wanted. He
was the last person from whom she would want friendly affection,
demonstrations of sympathy, whatever.

He gave her a brief wave and gestured towards the upper floor, indicating
that he was going to get washed and changed.

Lois watched Conor walk up the stairs with a mixture of relief and guilt.
It wasn't fair to him to wish that he wasn't here, she thought; it was
hardly his fault. While they were in public, for instance at the Planet, he
did a very convincing impersonation of Clark and was openly affectionate,
which dispelled any possibility of speculation as to Clark's whereabouts.
And he was doing his best to help her as much as possible, by doing things
for her as unobtrusively as he could and by staying out of her way when
they were alone. She knew that he was going out to be Superman for
incidents which Clark probably would have left to the emergency services.
Her only concern was that those people who tended to encounter Superman
fairly frequently - journalists, some emergency personnel - might notice a
difference in 'Superman's' behaviour: Conor tended to handle some situations
rather differently. Only that afternoon, he had been caught on camera
making a rather caustic aside to a police officer about drivers who failed
to keep their cars adequately maintained and then cause accidents.

Earlier that evening, he had flown her to Smallville again so that she
could see Jon, but after greeting Jonathan and Martha he had excused
himself and said that he would come back for her in about an hour. Lois
suspected, and Martha had agreed with her, that he had done it in order to
give them the privacy to talk openly; Martha had also suggested that
perhaps Conor felt that Clark's parents might feel uncomfortable having him
around, and had asked Lois to let Conor know that this wasn't the case.

Oh, if Clark was here having Conor around would be no problem at all, Lois
mused; in fact, it would be fun. Of course, Conor would not be happy unless
Laura was there as well....

*Damn* Tempus and his meddling, she thought for about the hundredth time
that day. She *needed* Clark. She ached for his arms around her; she needed
him to hold her, to whisper to her that he loved her, that everything would
be okay as long as they had each other. She missed him in their bed at
night; missed him making slow, passionate love to her, curling her body
into his as they slept.

And yes, it was a slow form of torture to spend time with Conor, Clark's
double. It *wasn't* Conor's fault, and she was really doing her best not to
let him see how much it hurt her to see him instead of Clark. Conor was a
nice guy. He was also doing a pretty good job of pretending to be Clark; in
fact, he had made fewer mistakes so far than the Clark from the alternate
universe had done. That other Clark had deliberately stayed away from the
Planet as much as possible, but on the one occasion when he had gone in he
had made the mistake of calling Jimmy 'Mr Olsen', completely forgetting
that in this world Jimmy Olsen was not the owner of the Planet. Conor, on
the other hand, had not slipped up once, although he had confided to Lois
on the way home in the Jeep earlier that it was occasionally difficult to
resist calling Perry 'Dane', which was apparently the real name of the
actor who had played him in the TV show.

But Conor was also showing promise as a reporter. Lois had imagined that,
since he was insisting on carrying on a normal life as 'Clark' in order to
allay any suspicion as to Clark's whereabouts, she would have to do most,
if not all, of the work. But he was a very quick learner, and had an
intuitive, logical brain - notwithstanding his belief that he was lacking
in such talents. He had proved on a couple of occasions to be very useful
in interview situations, asking innocent-sounding questions in a
deceptively innocuous tone which had lulled the subject into giving away
valuable information. And of course, like Clark he was able to use
super-powers surreptitiously to their advantage.

But his heart wasn't in it. Lois suspected that it wasn't just that Conor
was missing Laura; unlike Clark and herself, he didn't have any burning
desire to be a journalist. Now a writer, definitely; from something she had
caught sight of that afternoon on Clark's computer screen before Conor had
been able to pull up the screensaver, it looked as if he was using some of
their experiences as the basis for a novel. A very well-written one, as
well, she thought; far better than her own half-baked efforts.

She heard him coming back down the stairs and made a careful effort to
compose herself, but in fact it wasn't necessary since he only glanced at
her briefly before saying that he was going to get a drink, offering to get
her one at the same time. She declined, thanking him, and returned to
staring at the TV.

In the kitchen, Conor poured himself coffee and leaned against the island
worktop to drink it, brooding on the situation as he did so. Lois was
desperately missing Clark, that he could tell. She was also, pretty
obviously, worried about him. Although the most logical answer was to
assume that Clark and Laura were still in Conor's universe, since they had
no proof that this was the case it was difficult to be optimistic.

An idea occurred to him then and, cursing himself for not trying it sooner,
he began to concentrate.


******************


- Santa Monica, An Alternate Universe -


Clark stretched again before standing up; pleasant as it was lounging by
the pool, he was beginning to feel over-indolent. Laura had prepared a
light supper which they could eat _al fresco_ on the patio, and they had
talked yet again about their predicament, searching for possible solutions.
It seemed to Clark, however, that they were just going around in circles.

It was certainly another indication of how like Lois Laura was, he thought:
they shared a terrier-like tenacity. Laura refused to believe that there
was nothing she and Clark could do to get Conor back; she persisted in
arguing that there must be a way to get hold of HG Wells, or an
interdimensional transport, or simply some portal which would take Clark
back to Metropolis and Conor home to this universe. He tried to share
Laura's optimism; heck, it was sure better than his middle-of-the-night
bleak pessimism which assured him that he would never see Lois again. But
he really could not think of any means of achieving the desired outcome.

And, of course, it was not just Lois; he also missed being with his son,
Jon, and it was hard to come to terms with that loss. Jon was growing so
fast; Clark hated to think that his child would be learning new words,
doing different things, while he was not there to see it. Even worse was
the thought that perhaps Conor was there to share the experience - and that
Jon might be calling Conor 'Da-da' instead of him.

And there was his parents... the two other people with whom Clark could be
truly himself. With Jonathan and Martha there was no need to pretend, to
suppress his abilities, to wear glasses as if he really was short-sighted -
although, to be fair, he wasn't wearing glasses here. In this world, the
only person who knew that he was really a super-powered alien from Krypton
was Laura - who, understandably, didn't really want to talk to him about
what all that entailed, or really to acknowledge the fact of his abilities,
because it was too much of a reminder of her own fiance.

Laura had returned inside some time earlier, saying something about the
need to go over her lines for the following day's filming. Clark had,
momentarily, wondered if he should offer to coach her, but had decided that
he would really prefer some time on his own. Not that his own company was
doing him much good at the moment.... Perhaps he needed to change into the
Suit and go flying, he thought.

He walked slowly towards the far end of the grounds, barely noticing the
twilight shadows falling from the foliage to the grass. Nocturnal birds
were starting to chirrup, but he was oblivious to their sounds; all he
could think about was Lois. But... what was that? He stilled suddenly.
Something... someone... was calling to him.

He frowned. Where was that voice coming from?

And whose voice was it? It sounded... vaguely familiar.

He strained to hear, to focus on exactly what it was which was reaching out
to him. Without realising it, he subconsciously opened his mind to the
voice trying to contact him.

<<Clark? Clark, can you hear me?>>

Clark started. *Now* he knew what it was! <<Conor?>> I don't believe this,
he thought incredulously. He's reaching me through telepathic
communication.... He focused, and sent his answer back.

<<Conor, where are you? Is Lois with you?>>

The voice in his head came back. <<Clark - it's good to hear you. I had *no
idea* whether this would work. Yes, Lois is here, and we're in your
Metropolis. But what about you... and Laura?>>

Instantly supplying the reassurance he knew his counterpart needed, Clark
replied silently <<Yes, she's okay. Missing you, and desperate to get you
back.>>

<<But where the *hell* are you?>> Conor's voice demanded in response; Clark
could somehow sense the tension in his counterpart's body.

<<Sorry... we thought you'd realise. We got left behind - we're back in
California now.>>

<<So where's HG Wells? Why hasn't he taken you back?>> Conor seemed
incredulous; Clark supposed that it was understandable, given that he and
Lois had probably not been aware of everything which had happened on that
beach.

<<Tempus took him away - you did realise this is Tempus's doing?>>

The response was swift and angry. <<Lois figured it out. If I could get my
hands on that....>>

Clark walked back to the seats by the pool area; this cross-universe
telepathy, apart from being a tremendous shock, seemed to require a lot of
mental effort. He strained to *sense* Conor, as well as hear him, and got
quite a shock.

<<You're in the kitchen of our house!>> For an instant, it was almost as if
Clark was there with Conor; no, not with him, *in* him. Inside his head....

<<Yeah>> Conor answered. <<I could feel you in my head just then... this
telepathy stuff is really weird!>>

There was silence for a few moments, and Clark was afraid that something
might have happened to break the 'connection', whatever it was which was
allowing them to communicate with each other across dimensions. Although...
he could still sense Conor's presence somehow. But then, just as he was
about to 'speak' again, he felt Conor's voice in his head.

<<Do you want to do a 'Ghost', Clark?>>

<<What??>> Clark couldn't understand what Conor was getting at.

<<Come on, you've seen the movie, haven't you? What Patrick Swayze did with
Whoopi Goldberg's body.>> Conor's tone was faintly impatient, as if he
believed that his counterpart should have been aware of what he'd been
suggesting.

Clark stilled. Was that possible? Could he... somehow use Conor's body? Or,
at least, travel in his mind so far into Conor's thoughts that he would,
somehow, be there in Metropolis? He concentrated all of his energies onto
that possibility, focusing, projecting...

... and suddenly he was looking around at the kitchen of his own home. No,
he wasn't really, he realised; what he was sensing was Conor's own view of
his surroundings. Clark's consciousness had somehow become a part of
Conor's.

<<I don't believe this!>> he whispered; he shifted his mental focus
downwards, and the body he saw was Conor's; the clothes his own.

<<Yeah, it's pretty amazing, isn't it>> his counterpart replied; Clark
could feel the range of emotions Conor was experiencing. Shock, disbelief,
excitement, pain; they were all mingled together, and Clark realised for
the first time that Conor had been suffering through this separation from
his soul-mate in much the same way as he himself had.

But there were more urgent things to concentrate on....

<<Where's Lois?>> he demanded immediately.

<<Through here. Come on.>>


*****************

- 348 Hyperion Avenue, Metropolis -

Lois finally gave up trying to concentrate on the late-night news, instead
staring guiltily at the door leading to the kitchen and wondering whether
she should make an attempt to go and talk to Conor. She was just about to
get to her feet when the door swung open suddenly and Conor emerged into
the sitting-room; he strode quickly over to her and sat on the sofa beside
her, turning his body so that he was looking straight at her.

"Lois? Lois, there's something I need to... you may find this difficult to
accept...."

<<No, she won't!>> Clark told Conor impatiently. <<Lois is used to all
sorts of weird things - just tell her! Or let me...>>

<<Okay, Clark, this is your show. I'll take a back seat from here on.>>
Conor's tone, to Clark, seemed resigned; Clark half-suspected that his
counterpart wasn't enjoying this experience. But Clark had no intention of
calling a halt at this stage. Through Conor's eyes, he saw Lois curled up
on the sofa, saw the pain, sadness and guilt in her eyes, and desperately
wanted to touch her. But... she didn't yet know what was going on. He
thought quickly, wondering how best to broach the subject.

Lois, watching Conor closely, saw him give a deep sigh. Puzzled, she began
to wonder just what was going on. Then she was thoroughly taken by surprise
as he reached out and took both her hands in his.

"Conor! Just what do you think you're doing?!"

"Lois, listen to me," came the reply. "Do you remember telling me that you
should have known... as soon as you looked into my eyes...?"

Lois gave a tiny choke as she stared disbelievingly at the man sitting so
close to her. It couldn't be... it *was* Conor, she could easily tell him
apart from Clark. To her, the two men were not identical. And yet... what
he had said: only Clark could know about that!

But.... "Clark?" she whispered questioningly, her voice almost cracking.

"Yes," came the soft, murmured reply.

"But... how?"

The hands holding hers tightened. "Lois... sweetheart... it's telepathy.
I'm talking to you through Conor's mind."

She gasped, barely able to comprehend the possibility of such a thing.
"So... while I'm sitting next to Conor, holding his... hands, I'm talking
to you?" A lump formed in her throat as she spoke.

"More or less," Conor/Clark confirmed. "We don't know how it works either,
just that Conor was able to contact me. And I can... send thoughts into his
mind, and if he allows me to, I can virtually take over his impulses -
which is what I'm doing now."

<Yeah, right> Lois thought. <And if I told anyone else about this I'd get
carted off to the funny farm.>

But she continued to stare at Conor. He held her gaze unashamedly, then
said softly, "Lois, I know this sounds fantastic, but it's happening. I'm
sitting by the pool at Laura and Conor's house, and yet I'm able to talk to
you."

"Do you hear me talking to you?" she asked, incredulous.

He nodded. "It's sort of... hazy, a little out of focus, as if it's coming
>from far away. You see, I'm not really there, with you - it's just my mind
is somehow with Conor's."

This was so *weird*, Lois thought. But... she remembered another
incident... it was no less weird than the time when Clark was trapped
inside Woody Samms' body. She had known it was Clark then, once she'd
understood what had happened. She freed one hand and reached out,
tentatively, to caress his face.


****************

 - Santa Monica, An Alternate Universe -


This was absolutely incredible, Clark thought as he somehow 'felt' the
brush of Lois's hands over his face. It was not his face she was caressing;
it was Conor's. And yet somehow in his imagination, or in his
sub-conscious, he felt that caress. It was not quite real, but not quite a
dream either. Concentrating, he made Conor's hand tighten around the hand
of Lois's his counterpart still held.

<<Lois? Sweetheart, are you okay?>>

"Yes, I'm... fine," she replied shakily. "I miss you - we all miss you.
Martha, Jonathan, little Jon... we want you home again."

<<Jon - where is he?>> Clark's anxiety obviously transferred itself, since
Lois instantly reassured him that their son was with his parents and was
being very thoroughly spoilt.

"And Clark... you should be proud of him. He knew Conor wasn't you."

Clark was well aware that he had no right to be so relieved; after all, he
knew that Conor was not trying to take his place in Metropolis and with
Clark's family. Conor was simply making the best of a difficult situation,
and was helping Lois in the same way as Clark would try to help Laura if
the need arose. But he couldn't help his feelings.

<<Lois, you know it was Tempus, don't you? I'm just worried in case he
comes after you and Jon.>>

"I know - that's why we left Jon in Smallville. And Conor says he can get
there in seconds if anything happens."

Clark swallowed. What if seconds wasn't quick enough? But Lois was now
asking him what had happened to him. He quickly explained what had happened
on the beach, and summarised events since - not that there had been much to
tell really.

"Oh God, Clark, I miss you!" Lois choked out. His heart turned over.
Focusing through Conor's eyes, he saw the tears flow down her face, and he
concentrated; he needed to hold her. He willed Conor's arms to reach out
and enfold her; as Conor did so, Clark felt the vicarious pleasure of
holding his wife in his arms again.

He wanted to kiss her, so badly; but he was conscious that it would not be
*him* kissing her. Unlike the previous occasion of which he had reminded
her, he had not swapped bodies with Conor. It was Conor, not Clark, who was
holding Lois; Clark was merely sharing Conor's mind for a brief period
through their telepathic abilities. Reluctantly, he withdrew slightly so
that he could sense Conor's thoughts again as well as his own. Instantly,
he became aware that his counterpart did feel a little uncomfortable.

<<Okay, Conor, it's all yours again.>>

He felt Conor's relief at the same time as he realised the younger man was
getting up from the sofa. He heard Conor say that he would come and talk to
Lois again in a little while; he heard Lois's surprised, shaky voice say,
questioningly, "Conor?" and felt Conor nod. Then he was alone with his
counterpart.

Conor was flying; Clark recognised that quite quickly as he realised that
he could sense the swift flow of cool night air. He sighed deeply, and
asked his counterpart, <<Are you okay?>>

<<Yeah>> came the soft reply. <<I'm sorry - but it was kind of difficult
for me.>>

<<I realise that>> Clark assured him. <<And I'm very grateful you let me do
it.>> He paused, then added, <<I guess it's hard for you since Lois looks
so like Laura.>>

<<Well, that must be the same for you!>> came the accusing reply.

<<Sure, but Laura is out at work a lot of the time, so I don't see her as
much as you do Lois - if you're pretending to be me, that is.>>

<<I am>> Conor answered. <<And I've pretty much got away with it so far,
though it was a bit of a close call today when Jimmy asked me where Jon is
- I nearly said 'the Kents' instead of 'Mom and Dad'.>>

<<But you covered?>> Clark asked anxiously.

<<Yeah, no problems>> Conor assured him. <<Look, I know how important it
is that no-one has any reason to be suspicious of you.>>

<<It's not that>> Clark quickly answered. <<Jimmy's a good friend, that's
all. I wouldn't want him hurt by finding out... something... by accident.>>

<<Like Superman is really Clark Kent?>> Conor replied. <<He won't find that
out from me, trust me on that. I'll leave that one to you to tell him, if
you think the time is right. And I like Jimmy - he's a nice guy. I'm doing
my best to behave like he expects 'CK' to, and I think he's convinced. So
far, that is.>>

<<Good.>> Clark paused, knowing what he should now offer to do but somehow
reluctant to say it, although he wasn't quite sure why - after all, Conor
had done it for him. Why was he hesitating...? But Conor beat him to it.

<<My turn now.>> His counterpart's tone was quiet but insistent. <<Where's
Laura?>>

<<Inside the house, going over her lines. Come on.>>


*******************


- Santa Monica, An Alternate Universe -


Laura threw down her script; she just wasn't concentrating tonight and it
would show in the morning when she wasn't word-perfect on set. But thoughts
of Conor kept invading her mind. She missed him terribly and desperately
wanted to know where he was, if he was safe, when he was coming home to
her. And yet, at the same time, she kept getting the bizarre impression
that he was somehow close at hand.

<That's ridiculous!> she told herself. <It's Clark I'm thinking about; he
looks and sounds so like Conor I'm starting to get them confused.>

Just then she heard footsteps outside Conor's study. She braced herself: it
would be Clark. There was a tap on the door, then he hesitantly asked for
permission to enter. She closed her eyes briefly, unsure whether she really
wanted to speak to him, but reminding herself that he was really her only
remaining link to Conor. And maybe she did need his company, the comfort of
his presence. If only looking at him wasn't so painful....

He came in, treading softly and looking almost as if he would prefer to be
anywhere else than there. Something seemed to be making him distinctly
uncomfortable.

He took a seat several feet from her, brushing his hand awkwardly through
his hair. "Laura..." he began hesitantly.

"What is it, Clark?" she asked, trying to be encouraging.

"Um... well, do you remember Conor telling you that he and I are able to
talk telepathically?"

Laura's breath caught in her throat. Yes, she remembered - what did this mean?

"Clark?" she whispered shakily. "Are you saying... are you able to contact
Conor? Do you know where he is?"

"Well... actually, he contacted me," Clark admitted. "I didn't think of it."

Laura smiled involuntarily; despite Conor's feelings of inferiority next to
Clark, he had actually had the presence of mind to try something which
hadn't occurred to Clark. She was taken aback when Clark responded to her,
even though she hadn't spoken her thoughts aloud.

"He's pretty smart," Clark observed with a wry smile. "And only the other
day I was wishing he'd believe in himself more."

Laura brushed the thought aside to deal with later. "So - you've had
contact with him? How is he? - and Lois?" she added as an afterthought.

Clark smiled again, this time an odd sort of awkward half-smile. "How about
I let him tell you himself?"

She started, her eyes widening. "What do you mean?"

Clark paused before speaking again; his eyes closed briefly. "It's sort of
hard to explain, but I can relax, shut down my own thought processes, and
let his take over - then he can be here, in spirit, sort of."

Laura frowned as she tried to assimilate this. It sounded like something
out of a sci-fi TV show; she was sure that numerous script-writers in and
around Hollywood would have no difficulty with the concept. But in real
life...? Her Conor, communicating with her through this man's mind and
voice?

On the other hand, it was no stranger than the fact that this man, Clark,
*was* in fact Conor, but from another universe. And the fact that he and
Conor could communicate telepathically in the first place. *And*, of
course, the ultimate fact of Conor's being an alien from another planet.
Any of these little details would be very much at home in a sci-fi novel or
TV show. It was just a little hard to accept them in real life... but on
the other hand, why should she not believe it? It was no more far-fetched
than believing that a man could fly, and after all, she had been the one to
realise, first, just what Conor could do, that day he had saved their lives
in the TV studio.

"So - you're saying Conor can speak to me, using your voice?"

Clark nodded. "That's about it. But he's getting kind of impatient, so I'll
just hand you over...."

Laura watched, holding her breath, as Clark leaned his head back and closed
his eyes. A moment or two later, he opened them again and spoke. "Laura?"

She hesitated, then replied doubtfully, "Conor?"

"Yes, it's me, sweetheart." The words came from Clark's mouth, but somehow
Laura *knew* - it was Conor.

"Conor - oh, Conor, where are you? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine - just missing you. Missing you more than I ever thought
possible."

She leaned towards Clark/Conor, and clutched at his hand. "Do you feel
that, sweetheart? Can you tell I'm holding you?"

"Yes, just about - I can sense it, sort of. I'm not really there with you,
it's just that I can transmit my thoughts and feelings into Clark's mind.
It's a bit like watching you through a camera lens in long-shot, though I
can kind of feel things - I think that's Clark transmitting what he feels
over to me. If you can understand any of that - I know it sounds pretty
weird!"

It does, Laura thought, but it wasn't something she was planning on arguing
over - all that mattered was that she and Conor were able to talk to each
other. "So you and Lois are okay?"

"Yeah, though she's missing Clark as much as I miss you, and that's hard.
I'm pretending to be Clark so that no-one here notices anything out of the
ordinary - I just hope I'm doing okay."

Laura smiled wryly. "Well, you played him on TV for more than a year - it's
not as if you haven't had practice!"

Clark/Conor smiled. "Yeah, I guess. But don't forget Clark's a lot older
now than the version of him I played!"

"How can I get you back here?" Laura asked, her voice almost letting her
down. Unbidden, tears sprang to her eyes. The man sitting opposite her
leaned towards her and extended a hand to brush them away; she gripped his
hand and held it against her face.

"We're working on it. Now that Clark and I can communicate, maybe we can
work out a way of getting us swapped back again. Don't cry, honey - I'm
coming home to you, I promise."

Now that she had given way to them, the tears continued to fall; if Laura
had thought it was hard to be with Clark, who looked so like Conor but was
not her fiance, it was doubly difficult to communicate with Conor in this
manner. She wanted to be wrapped within his arms; to go flying with him; to
be reassured of his love and devotion; to have him beside her.

"Laura, sweetheart, don't do this!" he pleaded with her. "It *will* be all
right. I'll be back to you as soon as I can."

"I wish I could be as strong as you, my love," she murmured sadly. "It's
just so hard...."

"Laura, my darling, you are the strongest woman I know!" he assured her.
"You know I never would have survived as Superman without you. And I never
would have admitted to being what... who I am if you hadn't made me face it
that day we had the accident at the studio. Just trust in us - you know we
were meant to be together, HG Wells told us so. That means *nothing* can
keep us apart."

"Not even a crazed villain from the future?" Laura replied, smiling in
spite of herself.

"Not even him. Laura Lindsay, I love you."

"I love you too, Conor Kane." Laura stretched out her hand and caressed his
face, only to see the man in front of her blink slightly before a vaguely
uncomfortable expression crossed his face. She frowned. "Clark?" Her tone
was hesitant, disappointed.

He grimaced. "Yeah. Sorry, Laura - I don't know what happened, but he just
seemed to - disappear - suddenly." He straightened in his seat and,
embarrassed, she withdrew her hand. "Hold on a second," he murmured before
closing his eyes. She watched, confused and longing for just one more
moment with Conor. She hadn't been ready to let him go....

Clark opened his eyes again and threw her a regretful glance. "Sorry. I
can't reach him."

"Why not?" she demanded, crushingly disappointed.

He shook his head. "I have no idea. I never thought we'd be able to do this
anyway - not across dimensions. I was absolutely amazed when I heard him
calling me earlier. But now, there's just nothing. I can't sense him at
all, and I have no idea whether he's blocking communication or whether
something else is stopping it." He met her eyes again, his gaze
sympathetic. "I know you weren't ready to let him go, and I'm sorry. If I
could get him back for you, I would."

She nodded; it was obvious that Clark would do that for her. Struck by a
thought suddenly, she asked, "Did you get to talk to Lois?"

He smiled suddenly, his entire expression changing in that instant. "Yeah.
She's - she's doing great, though she misses me... I guess it's tough for
all of us. But I did manage to tell her and Conor what's going on - about
Tempus."

"I'm glad," Laura replied, meaning it. "But - what now?"

Clark shook his head again. "I'm not sure. I wanted to talk to Conor or
Lois again, to discuss how we can set this right, but now...." He trailed
off helplessly.

On impulse, Laura reached for Clark's hand and curled her fingers around
his palm briefly before releasing him. "We'll manage. Hey, he's got Lois
helping him, and I've got you - with all four of us on it, we'll find a way
to beat Tempus!"

Clark smiled, his eyes echoing the gesture. "Sure we will." He got to his
feet. "Can I get you a coffee or something?"

Standing, Laura shook her head. "Would you find it very hard to take me
flying?"

She thought that Clark seemed to hesitate, and was about to speak again to
tell him to forget it, it was a bad idea.

But then he held out his hand to her. "Sure. I'd like that."

As they walked towards the rear of the house, Laura glanced up at Clark; he
seemed more relaxed now than he had earlier, and more at ease in her
company. This emboldened her to ask the question which had been on her mind
since he'd told her about contacting Conor by telepathy.

"Clark - was all of this uncomfortable for you? The telepathy - letting
Conor speak to me through your mind, and so on?"

He glanced down at her, his expression wry. "Yeah, it was, a little. You
know, I couldn't figure out why at first. I just knew that although I had
to offer to let Conor do what I'd already done, I wasn't happy about it. I
know now it's that I... well, it felt like I was invading your privacy
there."

She frowned, suddenly comprehending. "You saw... heard... what went on? Oh,
how stupid - of course you did!" she answered her own question.

"Yes, I did, though it was a really weird sensation," he told her. "It was
as if I wasn't in my own body at all, but floating somewhere above myself.
I could see and hear what was happening, but as if from a distance."

One of her conversations with Lois sprang to Laura's mind suddenly, and she
remembered being told how shy and lacking in confidence this man could be;
not like Conor, who in many ways was something of an extrovert. She
squeezed his hand, which was still gripping hers lightly. "Clark, you
weren't invading anyone's privacy," she assured him softly. "What you
*were* doing was giving me a chance to talk to my fiance, and to let me
know that he's safe. That's worth a lot to me, you know that."

"Yeah," Clark replied softly. "And it was worth a lot to me that he did the
same for Lois and I."

They had reached the end of the garden; Laura came to a halt and turned to
face Clark. He gazed down at her and placed his hands lightly on her
shoulders. "I know how hard this has been for you - it's been tough for
both of us."

She nodded. "I know - and I haven't been fair to you, Clark. I've been
avoiding you, because it's so hard seeing you and knowing you aren't Conor.
I've allowed myself to forget that you're going through exactly the same
thing."

He smiled sympathetically at her; it seemed in that moment as if they
reached a new understanding. He drew her closer to him and for a long
moment cradled her body against his, her head tucked into his shoulder. The
embrace was similar to the way Conor held her sometimes, but for both of
them it was clearly platonic; giving each other comfort and understanding.

As he released her, she met his gaze and said shakily, "Thanks, Clark - I
needed that."

"Any time." He smiled at her, then stepped back and spun quickly. Coming to
a halt dressed in his Superman costume, he held out his hand again. "Ready
to go flying?"


*******************


- 348 Hyperion Avenue, Metropolis -


Lois paced the living-room impatiently, wondering where Conor had got to.
He had left so abruptly after her conversation with Clark had ended, and
she needed to talk to him. Apart from wanting to know everything Conor knew
about how Clark was and what he though they should do in order to get him
home, she wanted to know just how aware Conor had been of what had gone on.

Or did she really want to know that? It had been a very strange interlude:
to be in the room with one man, and yet really be talking to someone else.
To *hold* one man, yet know that someone else was aware of the embrace...
did she really want to know how Conor had felt during those few moments?

On the other hand, she was a little disturbed by the fact that he had been
gone so long. Was he still talking to Clark? What was going on?

A noise in the kitchen attracted her attention suddenly, and she hurried
through in time to see Conor closing the back door behind him. "Where have
you been?" she demanded angrily, more anxious than she was prepared to let
on.

As he turned to face her, she noticed that he looked exhausted, and that
his eyes were not just weary, but sad. Her heart went out to him; she
realised that she had been so wrapped up in her own concerns and yearning
for Clark that she had forgotten this man's feelings. It suddenly occurred
to her to wonder how difficult it had been for him to allow Clark use of
his mind and body for those few short minutes. And had Clark done the same
for him?

She moved to stand beside him, reaching out tentatively with her hand to
touch his arm, which was encased in the Spandex of the Super-suit. "Conor?
Are you all right?"

His mouth twisted upwards at the corners in what looked like a parody of a
smile, but then he met her gaze and his own softened slightly. "Yeah, I
guess. Sorry, all this was just kind of difficult."

"Let me get you a drink." Lois offered, but suddenly he was standing in
front of the coffee-machine, dressed in Clark's casual clothing again. He
filled the machine at super-speed before setting a tray. She didn't speak
again immediately because it was apparent from his stance that he was using
his coffee-making activities to occupy himself while he regained his
composure.

They moved back into the living-room, Conor taking up a seat opposite Lois
on the second sofa. She glanced across at him as she picked up her
coffee-cup; he still looked weary, but a little less depressed now. He
caught her watching him, and his expression relaxed a little.

"Sorry, Lois - I was miles away."

"In another dimension?" she guessed, her tone sympathetic. "Did you manage
to speak to Laura?"

He nodded. "Yeah. But we got... cut off, I guess is the only way to
describe it. I don't know what happened - I don't think it was Clark. But
suddenly I was just... well, kicked out. And I couldn't manage to contact
him again."

Lois frowned, trying to remember what Clark had told her about his
telepathic abilities. "He wouldn't have blocked you, would he?"

Conor shook his head. "I can't see why. Can you? Anyway, I'd hoped he'd
want to talk to me about what we do next, how we get this sorted."

Disappointed, Lois exclaimed, "You mean he didn't?"

Conor shrugged despondently. "We didn't get the chance."

"So what did you talk about?"

Conor sighed. "Once we realised we could talk... basically about what had
happened, you know, Tempus - I know Clark told you. And about you and
Laura. He wanted to know how you were doing, where we both were." <And then
I suggested we do a Ghost> he thought with an inward sigh, wondering
whether it had really been such a great idea after all....

"Conor?" Lois's voice interrupted his thoughts. "What's up?"

He shrugged. "I'm fine," he replied abruptly.

Lois ignored the curt response. "Conor, I've known Clark a long time. And
you and he are very, very alike in personality as well as looks. When Clark
gets that look on his face I know he's obsessing, and the only way we can
deal with it is if I get him to talk to me. So... talk!"

He threw her a reluctant smile. "I can see why Clark would do just about
anything for you, Lois. You know, I really hope Laura and I can have as
great a relationship as you two."

She reached out and touched his hand lightly. "You will. You two are meant
to be together, just like Clark and I are."

He turned his palm over and curled his fingers around hers, holding her
hand lightly in his. "You're right. There is something bothering me, and it
shouldn't." He grimaced before continuing. "All this telepathy stuff...
it's new to me, and even when we were all in my world I didn't altogether
like the idea that someone else could get inside my head, read my
thoughts.... Oh, don't get me wrong," he continued, seeing Lois's concerned
expression. "Clark didn't invade my privacy or anything. He was very
discreet - I think he just wanted to show me that it could be done, and of
course we used it when Laura and I went to that theme park. I just never
felt very comfortable with it, though."

He paused, taking a sip of his coffee. "That probably sounds weird when I
tell you that I was the one who contacted Clark tonight - but it
justoccurred to me to try it. Talking to him was fine - it was great, in
fact,
because at least now we know what's going on. But...." He paused, glancing
at Lois anxiously. "Well, when I let him... talk... to you, that was... one
of the weirdest experiences of my life. Even more so than when I realised I
could fly."

"I wondered how much you saw, or heard, of it," Lois replied softly.

"Oh, all of it, though it was as if I was kind of watching from above
somewhere. Even when you hugged me... him... it didn't altogether feel as
if it was my body. But... well, I did feel as if I was invading your
privacy, and - I want to apologise. For - breaking things up the way I did.
I didn't mean to."

Lois frowned, wondering what Conor meant. He explained. "Well, you guys
were hugging, and I could *feel* how much Clark missed you, his love for
you... and I felt pretty uncomfortable, like I wished I wasn't there so you
two could be alone. And I'm sure he sensed it, so he stopped talking to
you."

And *she* had been resentful that Conor had been the unwanted third during
her private conversation with Clark, Lois thought guiltily. It hadn't
occurred to her to consider that he might have been embarrassed. But of
course he would have been... as would Clark while Conor and Laura had been
talking.

But she realised that Conor needed reassurance. "Hey, it's okay. Without
you, I wouldn't have been able to talk to Clark at all. And he probably
felt the same way when you were talking with Laura, but it really doesn't
matter, you know. After all, you are the same person, just from different
dimensions." She paused, then added, "Where did you go after Clark stopped
talking to me?"

He blinked. "Sorry about that - like I said, I felt kind of embarrassed,
and I didn't really feel comfortable around you straight after that. And I
wanted to talk to Clark, and to Laura - so I went flying. Then the
connection 'dropped' or whatever, and I felt pretty drained, so I went and
sat on the roof of the Planet for a bit, just thinking... about Laura,
about how the hell I'm going to get back to her. And then I thought I'd
better come and see if you were okay."

She smiled. "Yeah, I'm okay. I felt kind of... flat, lonely... at first. It
was so weird, talking to Clark like that and then not having him here. But
I wouldn't have missed it for the world, Conor, so thank you for letting me
be with him."

"Yeah, I know how it feels. It was so good, for those few minutes, to be
with Laura again, to hear her voice... but then it ended so abruptly. That
upset me, I guess. And this telepathy stuff actually takes it out of you,
you know...."

"Actually, no, I don't," Lois told him dryly.

"Well, trust me, it does," he assured her.

"We're both missing our partners," she observed softly. "And I think I
haven't exactly been making things easy for you."

He pulled a face. "It's not your fault, Lois. I know I look exactly like
Clark, and it can't be easy for you to see me, be with me all day long, and
hear your friends call me 'Clark'. You have to pretend to kiss me and be
affectionate at work because that's how you behave with Clark. And you even
have to get me to fly you to see your son."

"You didn't have to leave this evening," Lois told him abruptly.

His mouth turned down at the corners. "I did, Lois. For a number of
reasons. I didn't want to upset Clark's parents - or you - and I wanted to
give you all some privacy. And, although I know Jon realised I wasn't his
father, I still didn't want to risk confusing him. And..." he hesitated,
wondering whether to add his other reason. Lois's expression encouraged
him. "Well, Jonathan and Martha are such great people. Clark was really
lucky to be adopted by them."

"And that makes you envious? Wishing that HG Wells had never interfered in
your world to alter your time-line?"

He shrugged. "A little - although I know that Tempus would have killed me
otherwise. I suppose maybe I've wondered occasionally if he couldn't have
found another way to save me then - like bringing an older me back to save
the baby me, the way it happened in your world. Then I could have had the
Kents as my parents."

Lois wondered again just what this man's childhood had been like. Both
Laura and Conor had made occasional passing remarks which had indicated
that his parents had not been like the Kents, but on the other hand, she
didn't have the impression that they had been like her own parents, for
example, continually feuding. If anything, it seemed that the Kanes had
more or less ignored the boy, Conor, apart from insisting that he abide by a
number of rigid rules. There must have been a lot of love lacking in that
household, Lois decided.

But Conor had other things on his mind, she realised, as he continued with
the earlier thread of their conversation. "I *needed* to leave you alone
with Clark's parents, Lois. That whole situation is just... well, it's
difficult." He averted his eyes from Lois's, instead staring down at his
hands. "I'm glad Jon realised I'm not Clark. I just wish there was some way
you could have him here with you without me being around. I did think maybe
I should leave, find somewhere else to stay - "

Lois caught his hand abruptly. "Conor, that's ridiculous!" She got to her
feet, crossing to sit beside him on the other sofa. "Look, I know I was
nervous about you meeting him at first, but that was only - "

"I know," he interrupted. "You didn't want him to think that I was Clark,
in case it confused him. But, like you said to Clark, he's a very smart
little boy - just like his parents, I guess. He knew I wasn't his daddy."

"Yeah. So there's no problem," Lois agreed. "Look, Conor, it would be crazy
for you to leave here. And I don't want you to - "

"No?" he enquired tautly. "I know it's been tough on you having me around."

"Yeah, and I know that's why you keep rushing off, even when there's no
emergency to go to," Lois replied softly, a note of guilt and apology in
her voice. "Conor, you're right, this has been hard for me, even more so
since I've been through it before when Tempus sent Clark into infinity and
HG brought the other Clark here to help. That was... well, it was a
difficult time, and - and something happened which I'm pretty ashamed of,
and... and I just really wanted to make sure