As she stared back at Clark, it took her a moment to understand what she’d seen. The tunnel through time wasn’t a single tube linking present to past; there were junctions that led off to the side. Clark had been pulled into one.
She felt a moment of despair. Not only had she been separated from Clark, there was no guarantee that she would end up anywhere even remotely related to where she’d started.
As she continued to spin, she felt nauseous as she too was pulled to the side.
All she saw around her was blackness and the stars. As she spun, she saw the earth below her, and she gasped.
She’d seen pictures, but it couldn’t compare to what she saw before her now. The earth was a great blue shape. She could see masses of clouds rushing by below her even as continents spun fast so quickly they almost seemed to be standing still.
The clouds slowed, as did the continents, and for a moment Lois simply floated, alone, gasping for air and feeling her skin burn with the growing, unbearable chill.
The sun never rose, until the last moment, and then Lois felt herself being blinded. She closed her eyes and prayed that she wasn’t about to be ejected into the cold void of space.
A moment later she was falling.
Lois had never really seen the appeal of roller coasters. Danger was common enough in her life that she didn’t need the simulation of danger to feel a thrill. Nevertheless, she had been on the occasional ride when pressured by Lucy.
This was more terrifying than any of them. The earth rushed up at her far faster than terminal velocity would have allowed. She found her vision graying again, and she blacked out.
**************
She woke on the side of a road, confused, and wondering where she was.
For the moment she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here, or where she was. All she knew was that it was dark and she was confused. She staggered out into the road and thought she’d follow it until she found some help.
There was a curve up ahead, among the trees, and for a moment she thought she saw light.
A moment later a car swung into view. It was a 1956 Ford Thunderbird, much like her grandfather had owned, except this one was blue. It looked new, but it didn’t have the shininess most collectors preferred. This car looked used.
She stared into the headlights, confused.
The car slid to a stop, only a few feet in front of her, and then the shadowy passenger leaned over.
He was a teenager, dressed like it was the 1950’s, with a hairstyle to match. Lois had a confused moment wondering if he was heading for a costume party.
Working the crank to lower the window, he kept staring at her. Lois looked down at herself and wondered why she was wearing an old fashioned white gown and why she looked like she was glowing.
Whatever he said was muffled, and a moment later she was yanked away.
Awareness flooded her; she was in a time tunnel.
***********
She found herself bouncing from place to place; apparently this branch of the tunnel led all over the globe. She appeared above battlefields, on highways, once above what looked like Woodstock. Time stuttered along, slowing at times and speeding up at others. Sometimes she was noticed; more often she was not.
Despair began to creep in. There was no guarantee that she would end up anywhere close to her own time, and if she did, she might end up anywhere in the world.
In no version of the future she could see would she ever see Clark again.
Until she did.
As time slowed yet again, Lois found herself in familiar territory. She was in Metropolis, in her old neighborhood.
Her friend’s house was just to her left. She’d always been jealous of her friend for having a front yard, even if it was tiny.
When she saw the red ball rolling across the street, chills ran up her spine.
She remembered this.
It was strange looking at herself. At five she was awkward and uncoordinated. Her face was completely open and trusting and naïve. Here was a Lois Lane who hadn’t seen her parents’ divorce, her father turn to philandering, her mother to alcohol.
Here was a Lois who had never been to the Congo and seen people living in conditions so terrible that the poorest people in America would almost seem like they lived like kings.
This Lois hadn’t been betrayed by Claude, hadn’t seen sources murdered and politicians caught in scandal after scandal.
This Lois had an entire world of possibilities in front of her.
At least she would have, if the ball hadn’t rolled out into the street.
Before anyone noticed, young Lois was running. What she didn’t see was the car filled with teenagers, more interested about what was on the radio than what was on the road.
Lois couldn’t take her eyes off herself as she ran for the ball.
She remembered this day. It was the first time Clark had saved her.
He appeared, just as she had remembered, out in the middle of the street. While the teenagers wouldn’t have seen her, they couldn’t help but see him, and they swerved to miss him, cursing.
Little Lois was behind him, grabbing for the ball. She looked up at him, and she grinned. A moment later she was running back toward her mother, who was shouting angrily at her.
Clark looked lost and sad looking down at her, and then he looked up and saw Lois.
“Clark!”
His head snapped up, and the expression on his face was even more beautiful than the one in the picture.
He ran toward her, and he vanished.
Lois stared after him, and she wept.
*********
It wasn’t until she retched into the bushes that Lois knew it was over.
Her entire body ached, almost as though she had the flu; this was on top of her pre-existing aches and pains. She felt as though her entire body was one massive bruise.
At least she was back to the Grand Hotel, although she had no way of knowing just when she had landed.
She felt exhausted, and worse was the sense of loss. She was heart sick.
As she heard footsteps across the lawn, she froze. She was still halfway in the bushes, and the sky was still lit up with an aurora.
It was Arthur, and he was carrying a familiar ledger.
Lois froze. The last time she’d seen Arthur, he’d been hurt and on the floor of the attic, with two of the three assassins standing over him.
Now he wasn’t injured, although he was wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing when she’d last seen him.
She’d landed before she left.
For a moment, she was tempted to follow him. She’d have a long hard talk with herself about time travel, and then she’d just fade away into non-existence, becoming the version of herself who never went back in time, never met Clark.
The pain in her chest had nothing to do with any of her injuries. She was going to have to live without Clark and part of her was tempted.
It would be easier never to know what love was like than have to experience this for the rest of her life.
Of course, with her luck, this would just be an alternate timeline, and she’d be stuck here with a version of herself who’d never gotten to go back.
She suspected that she’d never be able to tolerate herself. The other her would have all the negative traits that she hated about herself. Worse, she hated to lose, and how would she ever be able to compete with herself?
Keeping up would be impossible. In her way, this Lois was as innocent as the Lois she’d seen at the age of five.
Love was just a fantasy to her, and she wouldn’t be burdened by the grief that even now made Lois want to curl up into a ball and cry.
Yet despite the pain, the more Lois thought about losing the memories of her time with Clark, the more anxious she felt.
Memories were all she had left of him, and she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.
Still, she couldn’t let Arthur get hurt.
*************
The frying pan jolted in her hands for a second time, and the leader of the thugs sagged to the ground. Modern frying pans weren’t nearly as heavy as the ones back in Clark’s time, and this one wasn’t filled with hot grease.
Nevertheless, she’d chosen one sturdy enough that it would be able to stun a man if she hit him in the back of the head with it.
The man’s gun fell out of his hand, and Lois kicked it into a corner. She kicked him in the gut three times.
Contrary to what Hollywood depicted, hitting someone hard enough to completely knock them out risked brain damage and death. Hitting them hard enough to stun them was much easier, but that meant that Lois had to keep hitting them.
Her anger at her loss made kicking them more satisfying.
“Freeze!”
Lois stopped and carefully raised her hands.
“My name is Lois Lane, and I’m the one who had the desk clerk call for you.”
“Turn around and keep your hands up!”
Lois did as she was told, and as she stared down the trembling gun of a man who looked far too young to be a police officer, she wondered if anything was ever going to be all right again.
*************
The celebration was in full swing. Lois had been nominated for the Pulitzer Prize, and although she hadn’t yet won, her chances looked good.
Although her chest still hurt, throwing herself into her work helped. As long as she was working, she wasn’t thinking about what she’d lost.
She still cried herself to sleep every night, but she knew that in time it would fade to a simple dull ache.
There were times that she thought she saw him in a crowd, but it was always just someone with a similar build, or a similar suit.
She wondered sometimes if she was crazy. Sometimes it almost seemed easier to believe that it had never happened.
Yet the proof was in the back of her closet. She still had the second dress she’d been wearing. She’d put it in the back of the closet because she was afraid that she’d wear a hole in it, rubbing the fabric. It was her only link to Clark’s time, and thus, to her, it was precious.
She hadn’t even had it cleaned, for fear that the cleaners would lose it, and with it, her only proof she hadn’t gone crazy.
Besides, sometimes as she held the dress she almost imagined that she could smell him.
He’d watched over her as a ghost for much of her life. It wouldn’t surprise her if any minute he simply appeared before her. They might not be able to touch, but just being able to look in his eyes on last time would be infinitely precious.
The noise level in the room began to drop.
Lois looked around, wondering if someone was about to begin a toast. Although she’d wanted a Pulitzer for much of her adult life, it now seemed empty and meaningless. Still, it was an accolade for the entire paper, and she wasn’t going to cheat them out of the celebration.
It took her a moment to realize that only the people on one side of the room were getting quiet.
The crowd began to part, and a moment later Lois could see why.
An incredibly ancient man, withered and feeble stepped forward. He made Arthur look young, and his breathing rasped with effort.
Lois felt a sense of growing dread in her stomach.
It wasn’t until he looked up and she saw his eyes that she knew.
“Clark?”
She ran to him just as he fell.
“Clark!”
He stared up at her, his expression as beautiful as the one that had drawn her to him back in the Grand Hotel.
Breathing was obviously difficult for him.
“Come back to me,” he said.
A moment later she felt his body relax, and the light vanished from his eyes.
***********
Lois gasped as she jerked awake.
She was in a jail cell, pending her story checking out. The men who’d tried to kill her were in separate cells.
Her heart was still racing and she winced as she tried not to focus on the dream.
“Your story checks out,” the deputy said, slipping the key into the lock. “The men who assaulted you are wanted for a dozen murder charges back in Metropolis. You’re free to go.”
Lois stood up slowly. The beds in jail cells in Mackinac Island weren’t much better than jail cells in Metropolis or the Congo. Her body now was becoming increasingly stiff.
“The last guy got my purse,” Lois said. “How am I going to get back to the hotel?”
“You’ve got someone waiting to pick you up,” the deputy said.
Lois stiffened. There wasn’t any way Perry had gotten here this fast, and there were no guarantees that the men who wanted her dead had only sent three people to kill her. She might be safer inside the cell, although she wouldn’t put it past them to kill the few policemen on the island in an effort to get to her.
“Can you do me a favor?” the deputy asked.
Lois stared at him. He’d arrested her and thrown her in jail and he wanted a favor? While it was true that she’d been kicking two semiconscious men while holding a pan she’d “borrowed” from the hotel kitchen, he could have at least listened to her story.
“What?” she asked finally.
“Can you get his autograph?”
“What?”
“My wife loves his books. She’d be thrilled to get one autographed by him.”
The deputy didn’t look old enough to be out of high school, much less be married. Lois was still groggy from waking up with too little sleep and she felt confused.
“Who are you talking about?” Lois asked irritably.
“Clark Kent,” the deputy said. “He’s waiting for you.”
Last edited by ShayneT; 09/16/14 11:32 PM.
