A/N: I'm so sorry! I meant to post this days ago, but being sick stops the entire world don'cha know. wink That, and discovering the new series of Doctor Who on SciFi. *Sighs* I really should stay away from SciFi marathons...but I can't help it. :p

Anyway, here's the next part! Part 3 should be up really soon. It's written, but in need of editing...

Thanks to everyone who commented! Feedback makes me happy. smile

And special thanks to CC Aiken for letting me borrow characters and such from this story .

TOC

From part 1...

Clark watched as Wells nervously shifted his spectacles. Too impatient to wait, he repeated his question with more clarity. “Tell me. Where. Is. Lois.”

“Not here.”

Annoyed, Clark said, “I know she’s not here. Where is she?”

“No, I mean I can’t tell you here.”

“And why not?”

Wells cleared his throat and whispered, “I don’t know where he is.”

“Well you’re just a fountain of information today, aren’t you?”

“Clark, why don’t you get dressed, then we’ll go somewhere safe.”

He crossed his arms and gave the old man his best Superman ‘look’. It wasn’t an easy task to do in a bed, considering his utter lack of clothing. In fact, Clark was certain he looked rather silly. “I will, after you tell me who it is you’re so afraid of.”

Wells gave him a look and said a name that chilled him to his very bones.

“Tempus.”

And now, on to part 2...

~*~

Lois tried to figure out a way not to faint as she struggled to breathe. Whoever invented the corset obviously never tried to wear one. She decided that it must have been a man who designed the foul piece of clothing. If it had been a woman, she would have found a way not to suffocate anyone who happened to wear it. That is, if she hadn’t already died of oxygen deprivation.

Lois gave up trying to take a deep breath and resigned herself to the possibility of fainting. Then again, she was Lois Lane. This certainly was one of the more outrageous outfits she had worn, but at least it wasn’t covered in feathers. If I can be a man, I can certainly wear a corset, she told herself.

The dress wasn’t all that bad. Judging from the style, Lois determined that it must belong to the nineteenth century. She wasn’t completely positive though, since her judgment was based on old Jane Austen movies. At least her dress looked more flattering than the ones in the movies. Lois had always thought those dresses made the actresses look fat.

As she gazed at herself in the mirror, she admired the light blue fabric. She’d always liked this color… It reminded her of flying with—

“Stop that!”

The last thing she needed was a distraction. Lois knew she had to be focused so she could figure out how to get back…to Clark.

She was finding it very hard not to be distracted. Everything was so strange—especially her hair. It was long, really long, and currently twisted in a beautiful old-fashioned bun with little curls hanging down. Lois wasn’t sure why it took her so long to notice the length of her hair. She could only surmise that she had been overly sidetracked by her…situation. If only it hadn’t taken Constance an hour to fix her hair…

Focus Lois, she thought sternly. This is not what you should be doing right now.

A plan of action. She needed a plan of action.

Her stomach growled loudly. “I suppose finding something to eat is a plan?”

It was the best one she could come up with to gather information. Besides, was there a better place to learn about her situation than the breakfast table?

The sight of a tray when she opened her door dashed her hopes of a conversational breakfast. She ate quickly, but managed to thoroughly enjoy the oatmeal. It didn’t taste or even look like her failed attempts in the kitchen. At least someone around here knows how to cook, she thought. The fact cheered her up a bit. If she wasn’t expected to cook, then at least there wasn’t a chance of her poisoning someone.

Her hunger satisfied, she opened the door and left Claire’s room. A long hallway stretched before her as she began her exploration. Admiring the paintings, she didn’t notice anything else until she turned a corner and ran into—

“Jimmy?” she exclaimed in shock.

It was Jimmy, only he was dressed like an English gentleman—cravat included. And he looked just as surprised to see her as she felt.

“Claire, how many times must I tell you not to call my Timmy? My name is Timothy, remember? Ti-mo-thy.”

Timothy? What’s going on here?

“I’m not just your kid brother anymore,” he continued, “I have grown up.”

Wait. Brother? Jimmy was her brother? Lois struggled to wrap her mind around the concept. Of all the things that had happened, this was the strangest by far.

‘Timmy’ placed a hand on her shoulder and examined her face with concern. “Claire? Are you feeling well?”

Get with the program, Lane!

Lois smiled at him, in the same way she used to smile at Lucy. “I’m fine, really. I’m just a bit…out of sorts this morning Timmy.”

He removed his hand and groaned, “Claire! My name is—“

“I know,” she interrupted and patted his cheek. “You’ll just always be my little brother.”

Timmy sighed and rolled his eyes at her. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to check on that horse of yours?”

“Naturally,” Lois replied without thinking.

“Why am I not surprised?”

The sound of footsteps alerted the pair to the presence of another. Constance was walking toward them with a cloak in her hands. Timmy winked at her and said, “Right on schedule.”

“Here you are, Miss,” said Constance as she helped Lois into her cloak.

“Constance, would you be so kind as to check my sister’s luggage? I would hate to have her leave something behind.”

Lois felt her eyebrows shoot into her hairline. “Luggage?”

Timothy gave her a quizzical look before saying, “For the palace. We’re to meet the King there, do you not remember?”

“Of course I remember. It just slipped my mind for a moment. It’s back now. The fact that we’re going that is, not my mind.” Lois mentally smacked herself for her babbling ways. They already knew something was wrong and she was probably making it worse.

“Good, because we’re leaving in an hour and I hope you’ll be ready.” He turned to leave, but after he had walked a few steps, he stopped. Twisting his head so he could see her, he asked, “Are you certain we must bring your horse?

“Quite certain.”

“Wonderful,” he rolled his eyes, “now I must resign myself to the company of his unsavory groom for the whole trip. Constance, look after her, alright?” And with that, he continued his way down the hall.

Lois’s mind was a jumbled mess. She wasn’t sure if she really wanted to take a horse with an “unsavory” man. Hadn’t she seen enough men of that type in Metropolis? But that wasn’t the detail which bothered her the most. Two questions were foremost in her mind:

Who was this King? And why is Claire going to his palace?

Lois had an ominous feeling that she wouldn’t like the answer to either of these questions.

~*~

A dizzying whirl of colors swirled in Clark’s vision. It didn’t take long for him to decide to close his eyes against the lightheaded feeling it gave him. For a moment it felt like he was floating—or rather spinning in space while the world tumbled head-over-heels around him. Then he determined that wasn’t exactly the way he felt at all.

Before he could decide what he was experiencing, he realized he was no longer floating but standing on solid ground. Cautiously he opened his eyes and watched in fascination as a room materialized before him. At first glance, it seemed like an ordinary, comfortable office. But only at first glance.

Around the room strange looking devices were scattered. Clark could only guess what they were used for…they looked so alien. However, the weirdest thing about the office was the people. There were two of them on opposite sides of the room, looking at reports or different instruments. And they were wearing robes. Like Jedi robes almost...but not quite the same.

Beside him, Wells cleared his throat and said, “Pardon me, Margaret.”

The room’s occupants both looked up and smiled at Wells and Clark. One of them, a small, plump woman wearing glasses sighed with satisfaction. The other, a kind-looking tall man rolled his eyes.

“See?” asked the woman, gesturing towards Clark. “I told you we could count on Herb.”

The man shook his head, “Yes Madge, I see. But do we really have time for you to say ‘I told you so’?”

‘Madge’ chuckled and replied, “There’s always time for ‘I told you so’.” A moment later all traces of merriment vanished from her face. “You’re right though, we don’t have a lot of time.”

Clark just stood there, taking it all in and trying to figure out where he was. On top of that, he had an odd feeling…

“Clark? Are you well my boy?”

“Wha-what?” Clark stammered, and was finally able to break out of his daze. “Oh, I’m fine. It’s just…”

“Very different. Yes I know.”

“And here we are, letting poor Clark stand there all confused,” the woman exclaimed. She extended one of her hands, “I’m Madge, or Margaret Hathaway if you prefer. I’m in charge of this department.”

“Department?”

“Oh, Herb you didn’t tell him?”

“There wasn’t enough time, Margaret,” Wells explained. “I wanted to take Clark away before Tempus came back.”

“We’re not even sure if Tempus was coming back for him. Never mind, it doesn’t really matter. Clark, from your point of view, you are roughly two hundred years in the future.” Madge gestured to the room, “This room is the headquarters for the Peacekeeping Department. Basically, we ensure that Tempus’s plans never succeed.”

Clark’s head started spinning. Tempus, future, Peacekeeping Department…it was a lot to take in. He grasped Madge’s still outstretched hand and shook it, “Nice to meet you Madge.”

“And I’m Hank Bailey,” the man chimed in, “one of Madge’s assistants.”

“Clark Kent,” he said, inclining his head. For a moment, he stood there and took it all in.

Taking a deep breath, he asked, “Now that we’re safe, could someone please tell me what’s going on? Where’s Lois?”

Clark watched as Madge and Hank exchanged a look. “We are safe, aren’t we?”

Madge nodded, “For the moment. I doubt Tempus would come here unless he needed to gloat. Why don’t you have a seat dear,” she motioned to the sofa, “and I’ll ask Anna to bring us some coffee.”

He sat, feeling bewildered and worried at the same time. Tempus had done something to Lois and had left Clark behind. And now, on his honeymoon, he was in the future with H.G. Wells. Clark wondered if his life could possibly get more bizarre than it was now. Then again, hadn’t he been a cowboy yesterday? Perhaps the bizarre was normal for him…

‘Anna’ came in at that moment with steaming mugs and donuts that smelled heavenly. Clark tried not to let the donuts distract him, but he had to admit that they smelled better in the future. But that could be because he hadn’t eaten yet. If only Lois were here to enjoy them.

“Now, let’s get down to it,” said Madge as she settled herself in a chair across from the sofa. “Lois is missing and you’re here in Utopia. We sent Herb to get you before Tempus had a chance to send you somewhere else.”

“How did you know Lois was missing?”

“Hank? Would you?”

“Part of our job includes watching over your souls to make sure Tempus doesn’t tamper with time. We have a device that monitors where you or rather when you are. However, we have been known to run into trouble, like today. Lois’s soul has disappeared, but not completely. We know where she is—partially.”

“Where is she?”

Madge jumped in, “She’s in England actually. As near as we can figure, she’s somewhere in the nineteenth century. But we’re having trouble pinpointing her position because she wasn’t sent to our nineteenth century.”

“What?” Clark asked confused. “What do you mean? Was she sent to another time dimension or something?”

“Yes precisely. Our instruments are not calibrated for all the different dimensions, and Tempus is probably aware of that fact somehow.”

“But,” Hank interjected, “we were able to locate where she was likely taken using the Soul Tracer. We just…don’t know the exact time Lois is.”

“So, let me get this straight. Lois was sent to nineteenth century England by Tempus, and you can’t find her exactly because she’s in a different time dimension. Is that right?”

His three companions nodded.

“I guess the most pressing question I have is: what am I doing here?”

“You’re here to help us find Lois, and save Utopia from a madman. If we don’t find Lois and bring her back in about…” Madge checked her watch, “three days and twenty hours, Utopia as we know it will begin to fall apart.”

“Why?”

“Clark,” Wells began when the others hesitated, “Utopia was built upon the ideals of you and Lois. If time is tampered with, if Lois is lost forever, Utopia may disappear.”

He had a nagging feeling that they weren’t telling him everything, but he’d accept that—for now. What choice did he have?

“What can I do to help?”

~*~

To Be Continued...