In a Better Place, from part 11...
***
He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before. How many holograms were there of this man on record? How many personal family photos had Silas seen over his twenty years? Hundreds, maybe thousands.
But it was all in the expression, Silas realized now. In the eyes. In the solidness that radiated from them. Things that couldn’t be captured in vids and holophotos, no matter what their quality. He looked so capable standing there.
Silas hoped with all his heart he was a capable as he looked, everything legend heralded him to be. God help them all if Superman couldn’t save them.
And now...
***
Madge didn’t need x-ray vision to know who was pounding on her door at three a.m.
“Trouble?” murmured Fredrick before dropping immediately back into a deep sleep.
“Hank,” she answered, though her husband’s even snores indicated no further explanation was necessary.
By the time she found her wrap and glasses and made it downstairs, Hank was pacing in her living area.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going?” he greeted her. The fury in his face would have intimidated anyone else. Anyone who didn’t know him as she did, who couldn’t see it was a flimsy cover for despair and fear. A combination Madge knew all too well now. She had seen it looking back at her in the mirror when she had readied for bed just an hour before.
“I wanted it to be a fait accompli.” She sank down into Fredrick’s favorite chair. The cushions were molded into his shape. The feel of it gave her a small amount of comfort and reassurance. She was going to need it for this conversation.
“And?” Hank asked in a voice which gave nothing away. None of the hopes she knew had to be riding on the question. She was grateful to him for that kindness. Fear and despair she could handle, but hope?
She wasn’t sure she was ready for hope, not just yet, not after the disaster with Tempus. Prying the information from him had been the most promising avenue left to them. And now it was gone. Closed tightly. There would be no point in going back to try again.
“Tempus did not cooperate.”
Hank moved slowly into the chair next to hers. “Do I, or do I not, work for you?”
“With me, dear,” Madge corrected. “Not just for me. You are vital-”
“So vital you left me at home asleep and went to face him? And you took Andrus with you, instead of me?”
“Is that how you heard?” Madge removed her glasses and rubbed her weary eyes. “Did Andrus call you before he left on his assignment?”
“No. I called in,” Hank said after a long pause. “Talked to Anna. Andrus has an assignment? A real one?”
Madge waved that last away. “You shouldn’t have called,” she admonished. “I told you I would get in touch if anything-”
“A trip to question Tempus qualifies, Madge.” His censor was quietly spoken, and she couldn’t disagree with it.
Madge sighed heavily. “It was...” She paused, catching herself. She’d been on the verge of calling it a desperate act, but right now, the word ‘desperate’ was the last thing the man next to her needed to hear. “...an unwise use of our time,” she said instead.
“We’re scraping the bottom of the barrel, aren’t we?”
“We are... running low on new strategies at the moment, yes,” Madge conceded.
Hank smiled at her. The way he always did when she said something like that. Something carefully chosen and yet in complete earnest. He always seemed to find it secretly amusing. Of course, the secret was that she knew it full well. And often played right to it- when they were discouraged, or arguing, or when he was winning a debate. Or all three, like now.
“How did Elise take the news?”
The smile died quickly and the fear and despair slid right back in place.
It hurt her to watch the transformation, and she did her very best not to let her own features do the same.
“You haven’t told her,” she guessed.
He shrugged. “It’s an awfully hard conversation to start.”
Madge nodded, hesitant to probe further. Though that didn’t stop her for more than a few seconds. “Elise is too smart not to know something is terribly wrong.”
When Hank merely studied his hands and didn’t answer, she continued. “I’m rethinking our policies. Tempus had continued to adapt and change, and we’ve remained the exact same organization we were under Odias Sinders. Maybe it’s time we altered our strategies. I think we could use some fresh recruits, some restructuring-”
“You don’t think the horse is out of barn on all of that?”
“This time, yes. But in the future-”
Hank was on his feet, moving quickly. “There isn’t going to be a future. Not for Elise and me.”
He was almost to the entry way when she caught up with him. She didn’t remember moving from Fredrick’s chair, but she had Hank’s coat in her grip and was pulling fiercely before she knew it.
“Don’t you dare give up! Don’t you dare! We are all that stands between... between... We are all there is! So, don’t you dare quit on me. This job is hard enough... lonely enough... but without you-”
She choked on a shallow sob, swallowing it hard. Trying to keep it all down, tucked away. If she let go, if she let any of it go, she would be no use to anyone.
After a pause which felt like an eternity, Hank’s warm arms came around her, holding her and rocking her where they stood. It was just a few minutes, but it was enough. For her, and evidently for him, as well.
“Go catch a few hours sleep,” he said. “I’ll meet you at work in a little while.”
“And we’ll get this solved today,” she said with watery resolve.
“Sure thing, boss.”
***
Lois had had about all the uncomfortable silence she could take. “Let’s hear it,” she prodded Silas, who, to her best guess, was completely occupied doing his impression of a mannequin, or possibly a boulder, though the rapid eye blinking ruined the effect.
As expected, Clark stepped in to navigate. “I know you’re processing a lot, Silas. But... about the world ending...?”
“It sounds kind of important,” Lois filled-in mildly, shooting a glance at Clark which dared him to caution her to take it easy on their subject. Or, rather... grandson.
Family or not, it was looking more and more as if she and Clark were going to have to good cop-bad cop the pertinent details out of him. She had no illusions which cop she would be playing. And it was best to get started. Otherwise the two of them would sit around and politely stammer for hours.
“Maybe I jumped to conclusions,” Silas spoke, a wistful sort of hopefulness filling the words.
“That’s quite a conclusion,” Clark said carefully.
“Care to elaborate?” Lois pressed.
“Ok.” Boulder imitation evidently concluded, Silas moved into blurry action. He pulled a small device from his pocket and showed it to them with hands that visibly trembled. “My zip-com. We need to call someone. Nate does some work for the League. And Elise is head of the Family Council. So, we should call one... or the other. Or both! Yes. Both. My parents, probably. My grandmother.... everyone, actually. And right now.”
“Take a couple of deep breaths, Junior.”
“Let’s just keep this between us” said the good cop, white hat gleaming. “Just until we have an idea what we’re up against.”
“We can’t waste any more time,” Silas answered, taking the words right out of Lois’s mouth. He paused, a look of horror stealing over his face. “How much time have we wasted anyway?” he demanded. “How long have you been here? I saw you last night, had you just arrived?”
“No. It’s been a couple of days.” Clark’s answer shot Silas right out his chair.
“Oh god,” he said. “Exactly how many?”
“Three whole days, right? Or nearly four now.” Clark looked to her for confirmation.
She nodded. “It’ll be four by morning. Though... I think there was a time change in there somewhere. Remember when we were at EPRAD? It was night. Late. But when we landed in the park...”
“It was daylight.” Clark finished. “I’d forgotten that. But... maybe that doesn’t matter?”
“It matters,” said Silas in ragged voice. “Every minute, every hour. It all matters.”
“Tell us how,” said Clark, and for the first time, Lois heard an impatience in him that matched her own. It had always been there, she realized, belatedly. He just did a better job of covering it.
“Please,” said Lois, taking the good cop reins in what she felt was a fairly smooth transfer. “Tell us what we don’t know that you obviously do.”
“And why you’re so scared,” Clark added.
So, fine, they were both good cops in this scenario now. It didn’t matter, because Silas had cracked and was ready to sing.
His white knuckles gripped the edges of his desk, and underneath them the wood groaned and splintered. He didn’t seem to notice, though Clark did. His eyes darted from the finger-gouged desk and back up to her in a split second.
“Our boy,” she wanted to say, but didn’t.
Still, from the fleeting half-smile he gave her, she suspected he knew exactly what she was thinking.
“Tempus’s one and only goal is the destruction of Utopia. The plots have been wild, far-fetched, and at times really ridiculous. But the one fact, the one plot-point, has never varied. He wants Utopia gone, destroyed... erased.”
“Why?” Clark asked.
“He’s a madman. Or at least that’s how he’s always portrayed. He hates how peaceful it is here. How uncomplicated and... serene and... I can’t believe I’m talking about him like he’s a real person.”
“He is very real. Real enough that we’re standing here.”
“Right. And he has a very real grudge against Superman and Lois Lane for being responsible for Utopia. Their ideals and their descendants are Utopia’s building blocks. It all started with them and it has spread and covered most of the world over the last century.”
“So, he sends the two people he hates to the place he hates,” said Clark. “For what purpose?”
“Yeah, I can see how he’d enjoy messing with us, having us see all of this before we’re ready,” Lois rejoined slowly. “But... what makes you think the world is ending?”
“How many kids do you have?” Silas returned quickly
Lois frowned, trying to find the connection between her question and his.
Clark fumbled. “I... don’t know. I haven’t seen that part of the museum yet.” His confused gaze moved back to her. “Lois?”
She sighed. “When I told you I didn’t really look, I wasn’t kidding. I didn’t. I only saw enough to...”
“I know,” he said. “Really. I understand.”
“None yet,” Silas said flatly. “Right? Lois Lane and Clark Kent in their own time have zero offspring. Is that it?”
“I wasn’t even sure I could,” Clark interjected. “I always wondered... being Kryptonian... if that was even possible.”
“I’m human and I wondered the same about myself,” Lois added. “I was pretty positive the answer was when hell freezes.”
“Are you even married?” Silas interrupted, his words heavy with frustration, and Lois wondered at what point Silas had gotten to be bad cop.
She was feeling somewhat awkward under his steady stare. And the question wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Of course, they weren’t actually married. But the reality of their marriage was pretty much inescapable. The fact of it permeated the building. The entire community. So much so, she could hardly remember how deeply shocked she been to make the discovery, how preposterous and ridiculous the very idea had seemed. And that had only been... two days ago.
She felt her cheeks grow warm. Silas was watching her closely. “No, not... really,” she said, in the same instant Clark spoke a quiet, “We aren’t.”
Silas’s stern look softened immediately. “God. I’m sorry. It’s... the clone, right? You guys are in that in between place now? Should be married, but aren’t yet. And... well... that was the one thing I just couldn’t... well, not the only thing, certainly, but definitely one of the big ones I just couldn’t fathom... so terrible.”
The look Clark gave her was wary, bordering on fearful. “Why do I feel like we don’t want to know?”
“Is this more comic book stuff?” she demanded. “You aren’t making sense.”
Silas went right back to being the boulder. “Oh.”
“Oh?” she prompted.
“Nope. Definitely don’t want to know,” Clark muttered.
Silas shifted uneasily, studying first his shoes, and then looking beyond her shoulder as if there was something of desperate importance written on the wall behind her.
“Um... maybe we should get back to discussing the world ending?” Clark suggested.
“That might be easier. And... more cheerful,” Silas said.
“This is payback, isn’t it? We came in here and blew your mind, so you’re paying us back.”
“Lois,” Clark said in the tone was starting to become somewhat permanent when addressing her.
“I wish,” said Silas fervently. “But can we say we’ve established you two are not married back in your time? That you haven’t had any children. Therefore, there are currently no Lane-Kents in the twentieth century. Is that the size of it?”
“Lois and I had just met,” Clark said. “We’ve known each other just under two weeks, no where near long enough to be dating, much less married and...”
His voice trailed away. She watched as the color in his face left with it. “No Lane-Kents in the twentieth century,” he repeated. He exhaled slowly. “A century we have no idea how to get back to.”
A heavy silence filled the room. Conclusions she had never seen coming, but which suddenly seemed completely obvious to her now, took on form and shape terrifying in their magnitude.
Lois found herself moving towards Clark, almost unaware she was doing so until he reached out for her. When his warm hands caught hers, she started to breathe again, short, shaky breaths that weren’t doing her much good. She lowered herself slowly to sit beside him, her legs having forgotten how to hold her.
“So, if we’re stuck here...” she said haltingly, “...we’re never married, never have kids. And since you said Utopia is founded on that...”
“...none of this will ever happen,” Clark spoke in a low, choked voice.
“And Tempus destroys Utopia before it starts,” Silas finished.
Lois fought the urge to put her head between her knees, either the room was suddenly spinning, or she was dizzy with the knowledge of what it all meant. Of all that was at stake.
To think she’d thought things were difficult up to this point...
Clark’s hand moved to her back, rubbing lightly up and down her spine, his fingers smoothing the tense muscles in her shoulders. He was doing it entirely unconsciously; one look at him told her he was miles away. Maybe someplace watching the demise of an entire society. Of their every living relative. The future of millions.
Krypton all over again.
“Wait,” she said. “Just... wait. Why are we all still here, then? You said every minute counted, but we’ve been here going on four days and...” She gestured to the tiny office. “It’s all still here. You are directly related to us, and you’re still...” She stopped, considering Silas closely, one hand reaching across the space to touch his shoulder, confirming what her eyes told her.
“Still here,” he said, smiling weakly. “But now which one of us is the ghost?”
“Maybe... whatever happens... doesn’t happen right away.” The edge in Clark’s voice matched the one she felt herself teetering on.
“In the Tempus comics, there were all these references to time disruption delays,” Silas said slowly. “A major change takes a while to be felt across the reaches of time and space. And he’s always foiled during that time. I don’t know. It made sense when I read it, though I never thought I’d be applying it to... here. To my family. To me.”
“Vacation’s over, Kent,” Lois said, standing abruptly and shoving her chair out of the way. She tried to hold her voice steady, to hold herself steady. To move them all from this place as quickly as possible. However they were going to do that, whatever they were going to do, they needed to do it. Now. Silas was right. They didn’t have time to waste. And they certainly didn’t have the luxury of panic, or worse, sorrow. “It’s time for us to go home.”
***
“‘Bout time you came home,” Elise’s sleepy voice grumbled as Hank eased himself back into the bed. “And you sure are lucky I’m not the jealous type.”
“Late meeting with Madge,” he murmured, glad that it was mostly true. That he could say only that and she would ask no more. He groped for her hand in the dark and pressed it over his heart, his fingers circling her wrist so that the thrum of her pulse beat under his.
Still beating. Still strong. Still here.
“I wish you could tell me.” Her voice wasn’t sleepy any more. She was, in fact, wide awake.
And she was giving him the opening he had spent days agonizing over how to create, whether or not he should create it. What it would sound like, how he would proceed if he did. If there were words to even do it justice. “I’ve been... debating it.”
She rolled over to face him, and even in the dark he felt the weight of her frank stare.
“I wish I had the Kryptonian ‘measure your heart rate, bio-rhythm feedback thing’,” she said quietly. “Then I could tell if you’re as calm as you seem.”
“If you’d had that ability, you would know how often I’ve been... really scared... over the years.” He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look into hers for another minute. “But never more scared than right now, Elise.”
She moved towards him, around him. Her arms, her hair, her softness and scent. He was enveloped in her. “Maybe I can help. Maybe if you just tell me.”
“It’s bad.” His voice shook precariously on the last word. “Really bad. And once I tell you, if I tell you, then I can’t... untell you, and you might wish I could.” Tears he had spent days fighting spilled over, hot on his cheeks, and she blurred to his vision.
“If it hurts you, I want you to tell me.” There was no hesitancy in her voice.
“I’m the least of it,” he choked. “It’s you, Elise. Your family. Everything.”
“Then it’s definitely too much for you to be carrying all by yourself. Two heads are better than one. Lay it on me.” She pushed up onto her elbow so she could peer down at him, but he pulled her roughly, greedily, back to him.
“Ok, now you’re freaking me out a little,” she said with forced lightness, while he fought to win back some of his control. Years of control born of years of practice doing what he did, being married to her and unable to tell her what the current threat was. Maybe he had simply reached the limit of what he could conceal, of how much he could despair. The limits of fear. Plain and simple.
“We’re in trouble,” he said, lifting his eyes to meet hers at last. “All of us. And nearly out of time.”
She nodded. “Tell me about it, whatever it is.”
***
Clark looked to Lois. She had moved to her feet and was ready to dash off and get to work. He knew that. She had held still as long as she was able, and now she needed to move. “You’ve seen enough of this century, then?”
“Not that it isn’t a great place to hang around, but, apparently, visiting hours are over.”
He stood and took her hand in his, holding her in place for just a minute, a minute he needed to get his bearings. “I can be packed really quickly. And... I’m completely open to ideas on our exit strategy?” He was asking, no, praying, that she had some idea, some insight as to what they should do.
“We call for help,” Silas interjected, coming to his feet and completing the circle. Clark moved his other hand to Silas’s shoulder, linking the three of them. Lois to his right and Silas to his left.
His family.
An overwhelming surge of protectiveness and love crashed over him; he was nearly staggered by it. He couldn’t let this be lost. He couldn’t stand it if it was. If he really was the Superman Utopia thought him to be, then he had to save this. He had to. “We’ll figure this out.” He tried to impart a confidence he was nowhere close to feeling. “The three of us working together.”
”Not just the three of us.” Panic seeped into Silas’s words. “You need way more than me. I’m no good to you. You need real help. Justice League help. Family Council help. Whatever helpers Utopia has to offer.”
Beside him, Lois tensed and her eyes flew wide. He felt the jolt run between them like a current. “Helpers...” she murmured.
“What?” Clark said.
“Whatever... helpers... Utopia... has to offer,” she repeated. She looked at him, but she wasn’t seeing him. He dropped her hand and she started pacing, muttering.
He tried and failed to subdue the rising hope as he watched her. In the short time they’d worked together, he had come to know that look. She had something.
She came to a halt in front of him, deep excitement banked behind her eyes. “The... the... Friends of Utopia, remember? Helpers and... dammit...” She grabbed her head and went back to pacing. “There’s one other thing.”
“Peacekeepers!” Clark exclaimed as forgotten memory, scattered and faded to near nothing, surfaced all at once and slid into place. “Friends of Utopia, Lois. Helpers and Peacekeepers...”
“Yes!” she cried, pumping her fist in the air as he grabbed her up and swung her around.
“The ones in charge of the time and space details,” they said together, grinning at each other like fools.
Lois started to laugh.
He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t thinking. She was pressed up against him and before he really knew it his lips were covering hers. As if they always had. As if he kissed her every day, as fundamental as breathing. It was fleeting, blink and you missed it. Not really a romantic kiss so much as a ‘hurray-the world-won’t-end!’ kiss. There wasn’t really anything more to it than that.
Not that more wouldn’t have been very, very nice. Just... the timing was probably lousy.
He set her down. Lois beamed at him, grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him back soundly. “That was so easy, Clark. Why didn’t we think of that before?”
He raised his hands to cover hers, casting about for just the right words for this moment. “Believe me, Lois, I thought of this right away. The very first day. The very first second I saw you. I just didn’t think you would...”
Wait, whispered a small, still sane voice inside his head. Hang on.
“...um...what are we talking about... exactly?” he finished somewhat lamely.
Actually, they weren’t talking. Not any more. He had said that last part to the back of her head. Lois had already turned and was pulling Silas along by his tie. “Look at this,” she said, “you have the same excruciatingly bad taste.”
Silas sighed, standing where she held him, making no move to retrieve his tie from her fist. “It’s part of the uniform. And I think I’ve figured it out now. I can stay up to speed with you guys for only so long, then you just... tangent off into... incomprehensible, inexplicable-”
“Pay attention, Junior,” Lois said smartly, patting him on the chest and flashing him a smile which shut him up at once. “Helpers, peacekeepers, friends of Utopia. A guy named Andrus. Who are they? You must have heard of them.”
“They were definitely an organization of some kind.” Clark was back now. Back from the kissing. Superman probably didn’t stop for kissing, so the kissing could wait. “Though, come to think of it, they weren’t all that organized.”
“A bureaucracy!” Lois said. This time he was the recipient of the mega-watt smile. “They *had* to be government. Think about it. Where else do you see that kind of inefficiency?”
“They wore robes,” Clark spoke over Lois’s head to Silas, since she had moved forward and was practically dancing in his arms. “And we haven’t seen anyone else here who does.”
“Take us to them, Junior!” Lois ordered.
But Silas didn’t. He just stood there- mouth working, sounds emitting. None of them words.
“Give him a minute,” Lois breathed in Clark’s ear. “I’ve noticed he loads new data kind of slow.”
“I heard you,” Silas said with a frown. “And I do not. It’s just... let me get this straight. I’m to take you to some robe-wearing, disorganized, bureaucratic helpers and friends...”
“And peacekeepers,” Lois added.
“I was getting to that,” Silas scolded. “And peacekeepers.”
“One of them is named Andrus,” she prompted helpfully.
“One named Andrus,” Silas added to the list. “And... that’s where you want us to go?”
“And no dawdling. Clark will fly us.” Lois had a hand in each one of theirs and pulled them both unceremoniously towards the door.
“Uh,” said Clark, reading the look on their young relative’s face.
“Um,” said Silas, looking back at him helplessly.
“The Kent men are fairly mono-syllabic,” Lois commented to no one in particular. “Lucky for them they’re so good looking.”
Clark hated to crush her. Hated to be the sharp pin to her ballooning good mood, but... “I don’t think Silas knows what we’re talking about.”
“Yes, he does.” Lois didn’t pause in their walk... jog... down the hallway. “Tell him, Junior. You know. How could you not? That was a damned fine description.”
“I don’t,” Silas said, pleading apology in his eyes. “I’m wracking my brain and the only thing that even comes close is... the bakery.”
***
Tbc in two weeks! Thanks everyone and see you soon!
