In a Better Place, from part 6...
***
He cocked his head to the side, a pensive look coming over him. “Silas is coming back.”
“Let’s go,” she said.
“Maybe we should talk to him. Question him. We might get something from him.”
“I’m not up to it tonight,” she said forcefully, hoping he would believe her. She suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt any more. “Please, let’s just-”
She didn’t have to complete the sentence; she was in his arms and out under the stars in a blur.
And now...
***
Silas sat back in his chair, removing the cushion he had scurried around looking for, and drinking the water he had been taking to Lorraine. He chuckled to himself, as he propped his feet up on his desk. For the life of him he couldn’t imagine why he had moved to obey her so unquestioningly. A chair with a cushion because her legs were cramping?
He laughed aloud. Whoever they were, they were long gone. While he was grateful he hadn’t had to figure out how to get rid of them, he was a little sorry. They had been different. And as Silas looked around the tiny office with the plain gray walls, he appreciated how much he needed a little different in his life.
Still, whoever Lorraine was, she had been really beautiful. And the guy with her had seemed nice enough. His resemblance to Clark Kent had been good, if not a bit more subtle. He was smaller than the original, maybe. Shorter, less... something. Anyway, though he wasn’t the dead ringer that she was, the two of them together were pretty amazing.
His mom would love them.
What she wouldn’t love, he thought with a frown, was that they didn’t really work here.
Earlier today, Silas had been congratulated by his unusually enthusiastic floor manager for casting the new Lois and new Superman. “Where’d you find them?” he’d been asked by various individuals during operating hours.
He had been pleased and surprised the latest look-alikes were working out so well. He hadn’t thought them any more special than any of the others, and in the weeks since he’d hired them, he hadn’t gotten any feedback, good or bad. So, he was more than glad for the belated input. Thinking maybe he’d finally gotten the hang of things, he had accepted the praise and promptly forgotten it.
Until now. One look at the couple in the HEA had been all the confirmation he’d needed. They had to be the ones creating all the buzz, not the couple he had taken on. And apparently they were pretending to be new cast members. A quick check of his records had backed this up. No one new had been added. No one he hadn’t added himself.
Not that he wouldn’t have hired them on the spot if they had presented themselves to him. He would definitely have hired Lorraine. The man, too, if they were an item, which they clearly appeared to be. A cranky, off-balance item, but an item just the same.
Silas sighed. The good ones were always taken.
He leaned back in his chair and dutifully considered calling his parents. This probably qualified as unusual, and therefore fell into the category of Things the Family Must Know.
But it wasn’t as if the imposters had done any harm On the contrary, one quick read through guest comment cards showed they were a highlight of most people’s visits.
Silas absently stacked the cards back in order.
They probably wouldn’t come back. Not after he’d caught them tonight and made it clear he was a part of the management.
And they hadn’t appeared to be religious nuts on a pilgrimage, either. Sometimes the museum drew that kind of tourist, ones who had trouble distinguishing Utopia’s founders from minor deities.
Silas could hardly blame them. The way Lois Lane and Clark Kent were revered and lauded had always made him somewhat uncomfortable They had just been people after all. Extraordinary people, but still...
He felt fairly confident crossing that possibility off the list. The man might had been a bit awed. But Lorraine definitely hadn’t been.
Silas shook his head and pushed to his feet. He had no idea what they were doing here this evening other than arguing. Or why they’d been pretending to work here earlier. But they had done precisely what he’d hoped for- vacated the premises.
No sense pondering it any further. Adventure over.
He filed the day’s papers and shut off his desk lamp.
***
The sun was rising when they returned to the attic.
Clark had asked if Lois wanted to stay anywhere else. The possibilities were limitless, after all. But she had simply shaken her head.
He put her down gently and moved away, giving her some space. He knew she needed it even though she hadn’t said so.
She hadn’t really said much of anything at all. He had spent the entire night doing all the talking. Thinking out loud, pointing out landmarks- both man made and natural- explaining how they had changed since the last time he’d flown over them.
Mountain ranges remained the same to the naked eye, but he was able to detect an erosion pattern. The oceans had withdrawn, not significantly, but enough to take note of. There appeared to be alternate sources of energy in most countries now. Power plants unknown to him. Perhaps that explained the clean air. The pollution problem all but gone.
He had expressed gratitude for that. Lois hadn’t been too impressed, but then she’d never flown over fog-enshrouded Los Angeles on a summer day and then tried to get the smell out of her clothes.
All night, Clark had cast his observations and comments into the conversational black hole which sat firmly between them.
The only time he had paused in his monologue was when they had flown over Smallville. He hadn’t been able to choke out any words for what he’d seen.
“What?” Lois had asked, her first word in hours, when he had fallen silent.
He hadn’t really known how to answer. “My house. And...” He had pointed to where his parent’s crops and the barn should be. The farmhouse was surrounded by a vast parking lot. He could see admissions booths, turnstiles, ticket prices listed for the full tour or half-tour. Around his treehouse, velvet ropes and some sort of gold-plated sign. He hadn’t read it. He hadn’t wanted to.
“I’m going to go get us some breakfast,” he said now, returning to the present. Lois immediately relaxed. Some of the tension left her body, her heart-rate dipped closer to a resting range.
He admired her. The way she was able to keep it all inside- no cracks in the smooth façade. If he didn’t know her well enough, if he couldn’t cheat and monitor her breathing, and the quickening of her pulse, he would think she was completely unfazed by what they had discovered.
He was fazed, to put it mildly. He moved towards the stairs on legs which felt like rubber. “It’s quiet down there. I don’t think anyone’s here yet.”
She didn’t respond.
“If you wanted a quick shower or a change of clothes while I find the coffee and...” His voice trailed away. She wasn’t listening. She remained exactly where he’d put her, head down, studying the floor.
“Lois?”
She nodded once, a quick acknowledgment clearly meant to dismiss him.
He stood, undecided. She wanted to be alone, of course, to digest what they had seen and the implications that went with it. Pretty gigantic as far as implications went. But just now, though he would never be foolish enough to voice it, she seemed so fragile and off kilter she worried him.
Displaced.
That was the word which had come back to him time and again last night. And time after time he had shut his mouth against it, refused to speak it. When they had taken off from the HEA room, they’d had a plan in mind. Get out of Metropolis, see if the spell or the illusion would break. If this whole thing was just a product of proximity, then they would simply outrun it.
If it wasn’t, then they would land, talk to people in other countries and time zones. He had assured Lois he knew enough languages to do so. They would read newspapers, check dates, compare testimonies. They would have a handle on when and where they were. Simple, really.
But none of that had been necessary. From hundreds of feet up it had been apparent, immediately so, that if this was an illusion, it blanketed the earth. There was no corner it didn’t reach.
They were not in their world. Not in their time. They were as displaced as two people could be.
Everything felt different now. This was their third day. But now they knew no amount of questioning the staff and visitors, no close study of the exhibits or how they worked, no quick flight above the clouds, was going to provide them with what they needed.
They needed a time machine. More than likely not too commonplace.
Or a ring like the one Tempus had. And an extensive course in how to use it.
They needed Tempus, himself.
But first, breakfast and- maybe- some sleep.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he told her.
He wasn’t three steps out the door when he heard her first shuddering intake of breath. He forced his feet to keep walking, forced himself to keep putting the distance between them. He’d go and get some things they might need to be more comfortable.
It looked as if they’d be here for a while.
***
“Andrus is here,” Anna announced over the intercom and Madge could hear the apology in her receptionist’s voice, though she was sure Andrus would never equate it with his arrival.
Over the years Andrus had served in every department within the Ministry, being diplomatically shuffled from post to post. It was highly suspected, though never said aloud- as it would be unkind- that had Andrus not been the son-in-law of Odias Sinders, the esteemed Director who had previously held Madge’s office, he would never have been hired. Or more than certainly fired long ago.
As it stood now, Andrus tagged along on missions of relatively little importance. If an extra body was needed, he made up the number, but he was never sent to places he could do irrevocable damage.
That’s why he had been with Madge on the night of Superman’s debut. It had been widely known for years Tempus would show up there sooner or later. There should not have been any surprises. And as much as Madge would love to blame Andrus- he made for such a ripe, convenient scapegoat- she knew the fault of what happened was solely hers.
She hadn’t kept her eye on Tempus closely enough. She had fallen victim to the oldest, most clichéd rookie mistake in the book. She’d been distracted by the very real, very commanding presence of Superman, the one whose existence she was sworn to protect.
And she hadn’t factored in the possibility of Tempus acquiring new technology they were unaware of. The ring was being studied by the department’s greatest minds, and thus far they couldn’t figure it out. Not its origin, or how it operated, least of all, how to recreate the beam Tempus had used and magically fix everything.
Pity, that.
The door opened, and Madge stood and tried to greet Andrus with the appropriate amount of warmth. She knew she was indebted to him. She highly suspected he was the reason she had not been demoted or fired, herself. Word had gotten round that Andrus had been on the disastrous expedition. Assumptions had been made by the elders. And despite her vehement testimony to the contrary, Andrus’s well known reputation for incompetence, ironically, had saved her. It was widely rumored he had botched it. So Madge had been chastised, but not sternly, and sent on her way to sort things out.
“Do you bring any news of the ring?” she asked, a bit desperately. She needed good news and she would take it from any source.
Andrus’s countenance fell. “Sadly, no. I’ve just recently been reassigned to the Bakery Department. Evidently my input is desperately needed there. Though I did try to explain I’ve never actually baked anything... ever.”
Madge nodded crisply. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it. Were those your... erm... tarts this morning? They were... unique.”
“Thank you.” Andrus beamed. “But that isn’t why I’ve come.”
Madge sat, grateful for the little things, and gestured for Andrus to do the same.
“I have an idea,” he said.
“Wonderful,” said Madge, bracing herself.
“Since Tempus won’t cooperate, we find one of his replicants and ask him.”
“Ask him what, dear?”
“Ask him where *he* would hide Lois Lane and Clark Kent if he had to put them someplace out of reach.”
Madge sat back in her chair, making thinking noises and furrowing her brow.
She didn’t want to admit it, but she had called Hank at nearly two a.m. with the exact same idea. She had been incandescent with hope, with the sureness that she had figured it out at last, a way to wake them from this nightmare.
Instead it had only been Hank she’d awakened. And he had listened patiently, yawning as she spoke, word tumbling over word. Only when she had begun narrowing down the possible jail cells and asylums that would need to be searched had he interrupted. “They aren’t smart enough, Madge.”
Thinking of it now, Madge blushed all over again. They weren’t. When Tempus had started making his own replicants to be the easy pickings for their traps, he hadn’t given them any intelligence beyond what they needed to function.
Initially, department members had mistaken the replicants lack of wit for Tempus stubbornly giving them the silent treatment.
It was only after one had gone more than a day and a half without voicing any dripping sarcasm that they had grown suspicious and eventually alarmed.
Andrus was studying her, leaning forward in his seat, hope marked on his features. She hated to let him down. She had done nothing but let people down for the last three days.
“That occurred to me, also,” she told him honestly. “But they don’t think like he does.”
“Maybe not the ones we’ve met, but there could be others,” Andrus argued.
And it wasn’t a bad argument. Along with the ring, Tempus almost certainly could have acquired Tempus-smart replicates. But then again, she didn’t think his ego could take being just one of a handful of smart Tempuses.
Madge frowned. The possibilities were pretty endless and nearly overwhelming. “I’ll bring it up at the next meeting.”
“And in the meanwhile, I’ll keep thinking,” Andrus promised.
“Thank you, dear,” she said a little weakly.
It wasn’t fair to rule him out, she reminded herself. They all needed to be thinking as dedicatedly as Andrus. Madge just didn’t want to admit to herself that she was becoming needy enough take any input from him seriously.
That would mean they were in big, big trouble.
***
When Lois returned from the showers, she could hear him moving around in the attic.
“There you are,” he said, sounding a little too cheerful. “I brought breakfast and... a few other things.”
He was watching her carefully, and pretending not to. Nervous, no doubt, as to what her reaction would be to the lamp he’d brought up- for her, she realized, as he didn’t seem to have any problem seeing in the dark-the mattress he had set against the wall, the bed frame he was assembling.
She stopped and watched him. It made a strange domestic picture. The guy who was Superman down on his knees putting a bed together, the small side table which held two cups of coffee and some funny looking tarts...
Lois gulped and moved closer.
“Nice clothes,” he told her as he went back to his work, apparently satisfied she wasn’t going to pass out.
She pushed up the sleeves of the sweatshirt she’d chosen, her sweatpants were already rolled up several times over at the ankles.
“I raided the Clark Kent closet.”
“As the original Clark Kent, you have my permission,” he said magnanimously. “You’ll need something comfortable...”
He stopped abruptly. She wished he would quit doing that, quit measuring his words, or at the very least get better at disguising that was what he was doing. His concern, while kind, was irritating.
“Speaking of comfortable,” she said after a long sip of coffee, “where did you get all this?”
“There’s a props department in the basement. I figured since none of it is being used right now, and we have a need...”
A need. They were both dancing around it, but the set up in the attic had an unmistakable sort of permanence to it now. She’d liked it better when it was an empty space, a bare floor, nothing but the two of them meeting to talk, comparing experiences while they put the puzzle pieces together.
If this went on for much longer, he’d be hanging pictures and asking her what colors she’d like to paint the walls.
As he unrolled the scatter rug she drew in a deep breath.
His quick glance was full of understanding. “Too much?”
She nodded vigorously.
He didn’t question her; he just rolled it back up and shoved it under the bed. “I thought... since the floor gets cold. It doesn’t bother me, but...” He shrugged.
“I have one exactly like it in my apartment,” she said as casually as she was able.
He tried to match the casualness in her voice with his own. “This bed is mine. From my room in Smallville. A model of it, anyway, right down to my initials burned into the wood.” He pointed. “I got into trouble for that. My mom thought I’d used a woodburning set, it was a while before I told her...”
He lapsed into silence again.
“Heat vision,” she said, moving to inspect the CK.
“Right. How’d you know?”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a good bit of information about you downstairs. An entire museum, as a matter of fact, if you wanted to check it out.”
“Not just about me,” he said with a teasing grin. “Let’s not forget who makes up the other half of this equation.”
She stilled. And then grimaced when she saw he had noticed.
“Sorry,” he began, “I wasn’t... that wasn’t...”
“Forget it.” She forced down a bite of tart and tried not to gag. “You were talking about the bed...”
He hesitated for only a second, clearly wanting to say more, to address the huge time-traveling elephant in the room which had nothing to do with the furnishings. She wasn’t ready. Not yet. Not now. Not for anything, really. He turned and lifted the mattress, placing it on the frame. “Whoever made this reproduction used a regular wood burner. You can tell; heat vision is distinctive.”
Lois sat on the edge of the bed, testing it with a few tentative bounces. “How about the lamp?” She tried for a smile and a lighter mood. “Yours or mine?”
“I don’t recognize it.” A relieved smile lit his own features as he moved to retrieve his coffee cup.
“Ah,” she said. “Not a lamp from our past, then. A future lamp!”
“Maybe we bought it together?” He looked at it doubtfully, one finger playing with the gold fringe which dangled from the leopard print shade. “When we were mad at each other or... drunk?”
“Or it’s a gift,” Lois said darkly. “From my aunt Mavis. This looks exactly like her taste.”
“A wedding gift?” he proposed, then stopped and did that thing again- the ever so careful ‘is this where you have that nervous breakdown?’ pause- and looked in her direction.
She drank some more coffee, took another bite of tart and made a face, all the while trying not to appear on the verge of a psychotic break.
“I’m ok,” she finally said, because he was obviously still trying to decide for himself.
He nodded, as if that had never been in doubt. “Ok, then. I went down to the gift shop, it wasn’t open, but-”
“-nothing is ever locked here,” she finished for him.
“And I figured we’ve earned a few wages from the hours we’ve worked. I didn’t take much, but I thought we might... you might... need some other things.”
From the look on his face, the extreme embarrassment he couldn’t hide, she assumed it was going to be unmentionables. Something lacy and small. Or a personal product with curlicue pink lettering reading For Women Only. So, it was with a sharp peal of relieved laughter that she took the Superman toothbrush from him, complete with Man of Steel toothpaste.
“Thank you,” she managed, wondering just how many more shades he had to go until his face matched the famous cape. “These are... super thoughtful of you.”
“Here’s a theory that didn’t occur to me until just now,” he groaned. “We’re really dead. And this is a sort of life-review holding station. Or maybe this is just hell, the last stop.”
“According to the people I’ve spoken to, this is the closest thing to heaven on earth. That’s why they call it Utopia.”
“Then they haven’t spent time in the gift shop, Lois. There are... things there.”
“Things?” she prompted, knowing full well what they were, having seen them herself.
He shifted, his eyes darting everywhere but to hers. One hand worked its way through his hair. “Tea towels,” he finally said weakly. “Wind chimes, pot holders, coloring books, salt and pepper shakers... pajamas,” he just barely choked out.
“I could use a pair of those,” she interjected, struggling to look innocent under his glare. She relented. “You could consider it a trade, Clark. Yes, these people are a little... Superman happy.” She paused at the odd strangling noise that came from his throat. “But there are no locks. There is no litter, no pollution. And a Sharing Community is...”
“...a well fed one,” he returned with resignation. “Superman happy,” he muttered darkly under his breath. “Also, have you noticed how nice everyone is?” He gestured to the space beside her tentatively and she scooted over to make room for him on the bed. He leaned back against the headboard and studied the ceiling. “It’s small-town nice. That’s the thing I was having trouble putting my finger on earlier. How like Smallville it is, even though this place is anything but small. In Metropolis, people would brush right by me on the street, or look right at me and not even nod, no eye contact. The objective was to in no way acknowledge you were standing inches away from another human being.”
“I love that,” Lois said.
“Me too,” he said, taking her by surprise.
“Why?” she sat up straighter. “You’re so friendly, even just those first few days at the Planet before...” She paused and frowned, not really sure how to word it. ‘Before we time-traveled to a museum dedicated to our life stories’ seemed a bit heavy for breakfast conversation. “...before a couple of days ago. You spoke to everyone, always so polite and open and -”
“Irritatingly naïve?” he filled in, though he smiled around the words.
“Yes!” she sputtered. “Oh my gosh! That was going to drive me crazy! What was Perry thinking hiring this lamb and then sending him off to the slaughter?”
“By teaming the lamb with you, right?” he clarified with a twinkle in his eyes.
She laughed. “You see? I wouldn’t have worried if you had just mentioned you were from outer space and indestructible. Not easily edible by wolves.”
“You were worried?” he asked, his tone going soft. “About me? Or... just about me being dead weight?”
Lois shifted a bit uncomfortably. “Both, I guess. But when I met you as Superman, I was just... worried.”
He sat up straighter now, too, interest and concern kindling on his features. “Because I was so strong... or different? Were you worried I could... hurt you...or...?”
“I worried you were too good, too kind for this world.” At his startled blink, she rushed on. “Well, not *this* world. This world suits you just exactly right. It’s practically tailor made for you...” She paused and tried to chase down the end of that thought. Something was glimmering there, trying to spark just beneath the surface. She closed her eyes and concentrated.
He didn’t interrupt her. She was aware of him watching, but he didn’t try to probe. Sighing heavily, she opened her eyes. “Thought I had something.”
He nodded sympathetically. “I do that a thousand times a day now.”
“Anyway.” She leaned back against the headboard, stretching tired muscles. “Back at EPRAD, and then later in the park, and when we saw the Planet, I mean, the Superman Museum for the first time...” She yawned, a jaw-splitting yawn. “Sorry. I... worried you were out of your element... going to be... picked apart.” Her eyelids grew heavy, and she felt him remove the coffee mug from her hand. “I’m fine,” she protested. “We need to... to...” She stopped there. There were so many things they needed to do, she couldn’t think of just one.
“We need to sleep,” she heard him say soothingly. “I’m exhausted. You must be, too.”
“But,” she protested, though it was a token protest, she had rolled over and curled up. She felt a blanket... no, his cape... come around her. She forced her eyes open and pushed herself up on one elbow. He was bent over her solicitously, removing her shoes and tucking the corners of the red silk around her feet.
“What?” he said.
“You didn’t answer me. Why do you like how impersonal Metropolis is?”
His smile was a little sheepish. “Think about it, Lois. What better place to go unnoticed? To live anonymously? It was like a dream come true.”
She pondered that. “This place is the very opposite of that, isn’t it?”
He straightened and turned away, busying himself with stacking the coffee mugs and plates. “It’s still pretty amazing,” he said very carefully. “You sleep. I’ll just-” He jerked his thumb towards the door. “-get out of your way and-”
“No.” She sat up straight. “Don’t go anywhere? Stay with me. Please.”
She didn’t exactly mean that the way it sounded. It wasn’t as if she needed him to be there to keep her company. That she needed his protection, or companionship. It wasn’t really that.
She just didn’t want him downstairs alone. Mooning over pictures of their... of the children and grandchildren, or brooding in the Krypton wing. Things like that. It wouldn’t be good for him, even though she had pretty much discounted her earlier mind-control theory.
Maybe Tempus was nothing more than a... time-travel... facilitator, some kind of futuristic travel agent. “In what century will you be vacationing today, Ms Lane? Have you considered the Dark Ages? Off the beaten path and the fare is cheap.”
She yawned again and sank back into the mattress. She wasn’t making sense; she did need a fast nap.
If Tempus had done nothing more sinister than transport them here, then what was downstairs could simply be... the absolute truth. Still, she didn’t want Clark looking at it. Not without her. They should stick together from now on. And after she’d had five minutes to rest, or ten, ten would be good, she would reel off the mental list she had been adding to since their flight last night. Things They Must Do.
Clark had moved closer, and she could tell by his face he had misinterpreted her plea-and it had been a plea- despite how she’d intended it. Her suspicions were confirmed when he sat next to her on the bed and covered her hand with his.
“I won’t leave you,” he promised.
The tension melted from her. She was far more relaxed by those words than it made sense to be.
So, she probably should have clarified things for him, for them both, just so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Instead she turned her palm over and threaded her fingers through his.
“Good,” he whispered. “Sleep well, Lois.”
And she did. Only dimly registering the warm body which eventually came to lie beside her, or the hand that never left hers. Or that she slept far longer than the time she had allotted herself.
***
Tbc on Thursday, maybe just a tad later in the day than usual!
