In a Better Place, from part 12...
Which was some time ago, but when we last left our heroes, Lois and Clark finally knew the score, Hank finally told Elise, and Silas said something about a bakery...
“I hear 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.”
And now...
***
“Maybe ‘bakery,’” said Clark, pronouncing the word very carefully, “means something completely different now. Words change. They add new ones to the dictionary all the time. I remember when they added ‘ain’t.’ My mom hated that, said it was a sign of-”
“They always credit you with the babble,” commented Silas, looking in Lois’s direction. “That’s sort of unfair, isn’t it?”
“No kidding,” she said. “What does bakery mean, Junior?”
“A store for baked goods.”
“Of course. Why am I even surprised? What else would you people have but peaceful pastries, serene bagels, éclairs of tranquility?”
“It’s still kind of an interesting story,” Silas ventured somewhat nervously. “If you’d like, I could tell it to you on the way to League Headquarters.”
“We are not going to League Headquarters,” Lois snapped. “That’s our last resort. We don’t want this to turn into ‘War of the Worlds.’”
“Oh, there wouldn’t be a war,” said Silas, earnestly. “War is against the fundamental principles of Utopia. Of Superman... well, you...” He gestured to Clark. “And you, too, Lois. So, if that’s a concern, it shouldn’t be.”
“I can’t talk to him,” Lois said to Clark, moving towards the stairwell. “And we can’t stand around any more.” She took off at a jog. “The sun will be up soon.”
“‘War of the Worlds’ was a radio program, Silas.” Clark’s voice followed close behind her. “In the 1930s. Orson Welles. It was fiction, based on the HG Wells novel, but it fooled a lot of people. They believed aliens had landed on earth. It caused a full scale panic.”
“What would be scary about aliens landing on earth?” asked Silas, clearly intrigued. “You landed in Metropolis and no one panicked. Or... wait. Were these New Kryptonians? I thought they didn’t show up until much later.”
Behind her, Lois heard Clark miss a step. “New... who?”
“Never mind,” she called. “This is part of our problem. We keep getting side-tracked by all the stuff Junior keeps tossing out. We can’t do that any more.”
“So, where are we headed exactly?” asked Clark. “I’m totally with you on the time is of the essence thing. But... shouldn’t we have a... strategy?”
“If you don’t want to go to the League,” interjected Silas, keeping pace. “I could call the Family Council. They could gather quickly. Maybe they would have some ideas.”
Lois stopped on the landing; the two men pulled up sharply. “Do you think they know about Tempus? Maybe they keep that information to themselves?”
“I can’t believe they would,” said Silas, frowning thoughtfully. “My sister is head of the Family Council. She and I are... really close. I can’t imagine she could keep such a secret. Or that all of the council members could. They rotate on and off every few years, hundreds of them.”
“There would be a leak,” said Clark. “Somewhere, somehow, someone would have said something.”
“The League, then,” Silas pressed. “There are fewer of them. Some of them are super-powered, or at least have enhanced abilities. We go to them.”
“I have all the abilities, Silas,” Clark pointed out. “And in these circumstances, they aren’t doing a whole lot of good.”
“It can’t just be the three of us.” Again, panic neared the edges of Silas’s voice. “It can’t. The entire world is at stake. We need help.”
“We can do this.” Clark said it quietly, but something in his voice left no room for doubt. His warm gaze landed on hers. “Now... where are we going, Lois?”
He smiled at her in such a way she couldn’t be irritated by the question she didn’t actually have an answer to.
“Right now, just out of here,” she said sheepishly. “Just outside of these walls. Maybe a different color scheme would make it easier to think.”
“Oh god,” said Silas, “you don’t know where we’re going! You have no idea! You’re just... going.”
Clark moved his arm around Silas’s shoulders. “You get to see Lois Lane in action, Sy. That makes you pretty lucky.”
“Yeah, lucky me.”
***
“What if you made him a deal?” Elise’s voice, far from sleep-filled as it should have been at the predawn hour, pierced the darkness.
Hank came awake immediately, chagrined that he had actually slept, that he had wasted even a single moment they had left. “Sorry?”
“What if you made him a deal?” Elise repeated, and he didn’t have to ask who she was referring to.
“Tempus isn’t easy to negotiate with, honey. Believe me, if Madge can’t coax the information from him, no one can.” He rolled over and tried to take her back into his arms, but she was sitting up, moving away.
“Yes, but what if you offered him something in exchange? Something too good for him to resist.”
“Such as?” He gave up and reached for the bedside lamp. She had a sound in her voice, one he had learned not to ignore. Not if he valued his own skin.
The light cast her in a soft pool of yellow and gold, heightening the brown of her eyes, the dark glints of her hair. He almost closed his eyes against her beauty. The hurt returning hard and fast. Instead, he kept his eyes on her, doing his best to memorize her there, just as she was.
That’s why she had to repeat it before he actually got it. “Fame.”
“Fame?” He sat back, shaking his head. “I don’t... what?”
“Tempus tells you where the founders are; you tell the world who he is and what he’s capable of.”
“Elise...” He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I don’t think you understand the chaos that would create.”
”I’d be willing to trade a little chaos for survival,” she argued, pulling his hands away from his face and grasping them hard in her own. “Could Tempus say no to notoriety?”
Hank paused, taking a minute to let the idea filter through, trying hard to imagine how it would look. So completely opposite of the operational logic of his life’s work and the entire ethos of the Ministry.
But hadn’t he been arguing to Madge that the Ministry was flawed? Their tireless efforts over the past four days had netted them zero results. All the tried and true methods had failed them one by one. And time was running out.
He hadn’t even checked the monitors before heading home last night. He hadn’t been able it face what he might see.
“But if the world knows about Tempus, it loses its sense of security.” He said it slowly, thoughtfully, testing the weight and sound of it on his tongue. “Just as you have.”
“True,” she answered. “But the world survives. And in surviving is a little wiser.”
He exhaled slowly, fighting against the wild surge of hope which was starting to hum through his veins. Maybe, it said. Just maybe.
He shook his head. “Tempus is so bent on destroying Utopia. This has been his sole purpose. Destroying the Lane-Kent legacy, and now he’s come so close....”
“And in a way, he will have succeeded,” Elise ventured. “Because Utopia’s citizens will know a peaceful society doesn’t just happen. It’s a façade. We are reaping the benefits of the hard work of others. You, Madge, Andrus--”
“Not Andrus!” he said a bit too forcefully.
She raised an eyebrow at that. “There’s a story there.”
“A novel,” he said dryly. “A tragedy. Epic length.”
Elise was quiet now, watching him. Waiting for him to tell her more, or to let her idea take root, he didn’t know which. “So, Utopia finds out and... grows up?”
”Yes.” She smiled at him as if he was her prize pupil, making him feel ridiculously proud and foolish all at once. This was his job. His work, and yet, she had something. Something he hadn’t even come close to thinking of. He couldn’t be anything but awed and grateful.
No doubt how Superman had felt about Lois Lane their entire shared life.
“And Tempus gets to be famous. Really famous. Feared and talked about forevermore,” he said, trying and failing to keep the excitement from his voice.
She caught it though, rising to her knees and grabbing his hands once more. “And we stay. I stay. The family stays. Things will shift. There will be adjustments. Big ones. But in essence, we’re all still here.”
“I’ll call Madge,” he said, turning towards to his zip-com. “No! I’ll go over. This will need to be done face to face.”
He kicked back the covers and found his clothes scattered on the floor. “Stay home, today, ok?” he asked as he hurriedly put them on. “Just call in sick or something and call me, if you start to feel--”
“As if I never existed?” she filled-in, grinning like the cat who had breakfasted on the canary.
He scowled at her, tucking his shirt into his pants. “Not funny.”
“I’ll be here. Close by. You call me as soon as you talk to Madge.”
“You may have just saved us, babe,” he said with wonder. “You may have done what none of the rest of us combined could do.”
“I told you two heads were better than one.”
He walked over to her and took her face in his hands. “Especially when it’s this one.” He kissed her quickly but thoroughly. “Stay home. I’ll call.”
***
“Is she really going to do it?” Silas asked as he and Clark walked the dark, quiet sidewalks of Utopian-Metropolis.
“Do what?” Clark asked.
“Kick down their doors and-”
“-demand a couple of bear claws and to be taken to their leader?” Clark finished with a grin, watching Lois striding purposely down the sidewalk, several yards ahead of them. “She might.”
Silas nodded, a slow grin spreading over his face. “You know, all this time I thought her reputation had to be exaggerated, but...”
He didn’t finish the thought and Clark didn’t finish for him. They didn’t need to. They shared a smile and a low chuckle.
“Maybe we can talk her into the subtle approach,” Clark said, eyeing Lois’s shrinking form doubtfully.
“What’s the subtle approach?” Silas asked.
“We order some coffee and sit around. Talk to the people there. At least we have a name.”
“Andrus.”
“I wish it was more, but it’s something.”
“You don’t really think this will lead to anything do you?” Silas asked heavily. "We're just doing this because we can't think of anything else."
“I’m not pinning all my hopes on it, no. But for now, this is all we have. And... who knows?”
Lois was still moving quickly, she hadn’t looked back to see where they were. She would know they were following.
“Does Lois think there’s something to this?” Silas asked, reading his mind.
“I think she’s just eager to do something at this point. It’s taken us four days to piece together exactly what happened, what it means, what we’re up against. It’s been one thing after another, as far as discoveries go. Just enough to keep us off-kilter. So... she’s moving because she...”
“Needs to move,” Silas finished.
“Yeah.”
A heavy silence descended between them, and for the first time he could ever remember, Clark watched the awakening sky, streaks of oranges and pinks forecasting sunrise, with something akin to dread.
Another day.
“How are you feeling?” he blurted to Silas. “I mean, I know this has all been really crazy. And we spent the night talking and threw a lot of curve balls your way. But, that aside, how are you... feeling?”
“I’m ok,” said Silas, looking him the eye. “And I know I should be, but I’m not scared. Superman and Lois Lane are on the case, right? If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that you’ll save the day. You always do.”
“Right,” Clark said, swallowing hard and looking away. “Uh... tell me again... about the bakery?”
They fell back into step, as Silas did his best to repeat everything he had told them when they had set out from the museum.
“There used to be a Ministry of Helpers and Peacekeepers. I remember that from history class. They were instrumental in helping put Utopian ideals into practice. The mundane, day to day work of converting a philosophy to operating policy, or something like that. Lots of details, big and small. Kind of tedious. And they had a headquarters right down town.”
“Where the bakery is now?”
“Right. And about fifty years ago, more or less, someone, I don’t know who, pointed out that their job was done. They had succeeded. Utopia runs itself. The world is peaceful. Everyone who lives here is helpful. So maybe it was time to close the Ministry down, just like they closed the Department of Defense and all the old intelligence and spy agencies.”
“Makes sense,” said Clark slowly. He pulled up short on a wayward thought. “Wait. So... what if these people Lois and I saw, the ones who were there to meet Tempus when we were taken-” He wasn’t sure ‘taken’ was the best word, but ‘time-travel kidnapped’ was a mouthful. “- operate in another time? What if they’re from the past, like Lois and me? Only... the more recent past? The Ministry that was here fifty years ago. We could be in the right place, just at the wrong time.”
Silas nodded but said nothing.
“Did that make sense?” Clark asked, still trying to work the logic out for himself.
“I’m standing on the sidewalk talking to my eighth great-grandfather who is the real Superman, on my way to the bakery to find out if it’s a cover for some sort of time-travel protection agency working against the comic book character Tempus. Oh, and for about a day and half, I had a huge crush on my dead great-grandmother. So... what you just said... makes the exact same amount of sense as anything else.”
“Just so we know we’re on the same page,” said Clark seriously. Their eyes met solemnly for moment, and then they were laughing.
“This isn’t funny,” Silas protested weakly. “It isn’t.”
It wasn’t. That was true. It was the furthest thing from that. And if Lois turned around and caught them, she would kill them. But Clark knew, despite everything, he would never forget how this moment felt.
“Ok,” he said, smoothing his features into seriousness. “Let’s get back to the subject at hand. You were saying... the Ministry is outdated and no longer necessary...”
“And they agreed right away that they had no real purpose any more. It was almost as if they’d known for ages and were just waiting for someone to notice. Problem was they had all these old-timers going there everyday. It was a way of life for them, and despite the Sharing Community, which would have found other things for them to do, supported them in the meanwhile, they just weren’t willing to give it up and retire.”
“They restructured,” Clark guessed. “Into a bakery?”
“And they kept their robes. All the workers wear them. It gives the place a neat nostalgic sort of feel.”
“Like the 1950s diner in Metropolis,” Clark said. “With the Elvis waiters.”
“Perry White’s favorite,” agreed Silas. “And here we are.”
“Here you are,” echoed Lois. “What took you so long?”
Clark smiled his apology at her. “Did we miss the kicking down the doors part?”
She rolled her eyes. “Actually, no. The doors are locked.”
“They’re... what?” Silas looked stricken as he walked over and signaled the automatic to swing open the door. Nothing happened.
“They probably aren’t even open for business yet,” said Clark. “It isn’t quite six a.m.”
He stood back and took in the simple building. The lights were shining through the windows, projecting squares of white onto the sidewalk where they stood. The scent of cinnamon, apples, and other good things was enticing, welcoming. As was the steady hum of voices in conversation coming from within.
“There are no locks in Utopia,” said Silas quietly from the doorway. “There’s never been a need.”
“Maybe not elsewhere, but I know if I got a craving in the middle of the night, you couldn’t keep me out,” proposed Lois.
“Or maybe there really is something to this place,” Clark said, looking more closely now. “If it’s locked, maybe there’s something hidden here after all?”
“Or maybe it’s starting,” Silas returned in a low voice. “You guys are gone from your own time. Your ideals might be... fading. Maybe this is the first sign, the first-”
“Hang on there, Junior.” Lois, stepped towards him and patted him on the arm. “First rule, no panicking until you’re actually tied to the chair and the fuse is lit.”
Clark nodded, clearing his throat roughly. He could hear her rapid heart beat, knew the adrenalin had hit her system, and though she was far from showing it, she was as worried as Silas. “She’s right. That’s the first rule. The second is- don’t actually get yourself tied to the chair, but Lois has a little trouble with that one.”
“Ok,” said Silas. “I get it. So... what now?”
“Have you looked?” Lois turned to Clark. “I mean... looked deeply?”
“Yes,” he said faintly, sick at heart. He had.
Inside was a working bakery and nothing more. And even though he had told himself that would most likely be the case, he realized now he had been hoping for something far different. The memory of his and Silas’s previous good humor faded quickly, as the weight of what was happening, what was really happening, settled like a shroud around his shoulders.
“Tell me,” Lois said quietly. “What do you see?”
“Four workers rolling dough. Two standing and talking beside a wall of ovens. One washing tables and another setting out chairs.”
Lois moved towards him and reached out her hand. He took it. Squeezing gratefully, slowing his breathing, trying to think. Silas thought he was here with Superman, and he didn’t want to take that away from him, didn’t want to disillusion him, by showing how completely terrified he suddenly was. Lois knew, though.
“Do we still want to go in?” Silas broke the uneasy silence. “It looks like they’re open now.” The sign above their heads had flashed on.
“Did you look upstairs? Downstairs?” Lois asked
He nodded.
“I’d love to buy you both a cup of coffee,” Silas said when another silence grew long.
Clark forced a smile, forced himself to sound normal. “That would be great. Thanks.”
***
Madge knew the few hours of sleep had done her good, but it was nothing compared to what it seemed to have done for the person waiting on her doorstep. Hank bore no resemblance to the angry, defeated man who had stood in that very spot so short a time ago.
Madge only dimly heard Fredrick’s farewell, so taken was she with the change in her assistant’s entire demeanor.
“What?” she said. It came out breathless, since she suddenly was.
In answer, Hank grabbed her arm and pulled her across the threshold, shut the door behind her and moved her, at a trot, towards the tiny vehicle he and Elise insisted on calling a car.
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
He only smiled and, as politely as possible, stuffed her into the impossibly small front seat.
As soon as he entered through the driver’s side, she leaned across the gears. “Tell me right this instant or you’re fired.”
“Just promise you’ll keep an open mind. And that you’ll back me up,” was all he said as he swung them around and headed the vehicle towards the commuter rails. “Where are the elders in session today?”
“We’re going to the elders?” she gasped. “Hank, stop this ridiculous car immediately and tell me, or so help me, I’ll...” She stalled there, trying to think of an appropriate threat. She was horribly unused to issuing threats, so she didn’t have many handy.
Hank was waiting, smiling at her like the Cheshire cat.
“I’ll partner you with Andrus for a lifetime,” she finished triumphantly.
He stopped the car. “You are cold, woman.”
“Please,” she said simply. “If you’ve figured it out, please, Hank...”
“It wasn’t me,” he said ruefully. “I wish I could take credit. It was my brilliant wife.”
“You told her,” Madge said, moving a hand over her racing heart. “You told Elise. Told... a family member.” She took a few breaths and just let that sink in.
For the first time in known Utopian history, a Lane-Kent knew the community’s deepest, darkest secret. The whole world had changed, then. Quietly, but still, right here, right now, they were living in an entirely new society. And she was witness to it. On the front row. She hoped others would live to study this day, to debate its place in history, argue what she had given Hank permission to do, and what Hank had actually done. That there would be still be Utopian citizens around to do so.
“How did she take it?”
Hank’s eyes filled with tears, and Madge looked away, trying to afford him privacy, though it was difficult smushed together as they were. “She was... great. She comforted me, when it should have been the other way around.” His voice was choked with emotion, but he steadied himself and continued. “And she has an idea that is crazy enough to work.”
“An idea we are taking to the elders,” Madge clarified, feeling a nearly giddy surge of optimism.
Hank nodded and shifted the car back into gear. “As soon as you tell me where the great ones are having their breakfast.”
“Tell me her idea first,” she said. “Tell me this instant.”
“We waste more time this way. Let's get everyone together. Then I only have to say it once and we could get moving. I know I don’t need to tell you every minute counts.”
“Proper chain of command-” Madge began.
“Don’t give me ‘proper chain of command,’” Hank barked. “The world is ending. Probably today. Do you know what I did on my way over here, Madge? I sped. Like a bat out of hell. The No Speeding technology wasn’t in effect. When is the last time that ever happened?”
Madge opened her mouth to answer, then paused.
“Never,” Hank said for her.
“Perhaps the controller forgot to... change the batteries in the central device?”
“The solar powered batteries?” he returned, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
“Don’t you take that tone with me,” she returned, pulling herself as upright as she could in the little tin can.
“It’s starting, Madge,” Hank said simply. “Maybe it starts small. The little things. But once in motion...”
He didn’t need to finish. She knew. “That’s just one theory,” she said faintly, though she wasn’t sure that’s all it was. “And it’s all the more reason to tell me first, and now. You said I needed to keep an open mind, and you know I have one, unlike some of our leaders. So, what if they say no? What if they hear you out and vote nay?”
“While the world is ending?” Hank asked incredulously. “This is our best chance. They couldn’t vote against it.”
“These are the same people who have kept Andrus around for decades,” she reminded him, feeling just the smallest bit smug. There was no arguing that.
“What if they do say no?” Hank echoed weakly, his face suddenly ashen. “They are the only ones with access to the timestream. They can’t say no. We need them.”
“Actually,” said Madge carefully. “They aren’t the only ones. And I will not say no, whatever it is.”
The look he gave her was almost worth the cramps she was getting debating him in the tiny space.
“You have access to the timestream?”
She smiled.
“And you won’t say no? To whatever I say next?”
“I have access. I will not say no.”
“Then... do we even... need... the elders?” The look he was giving her was one of a man who suddenly didn’t know down from up. Well, the world was new and the rules had changed, so really, he didn’t.
“Maybe we should let them enjoy their breakfast undisturbed?” Madge answered primly, just catching herself from being flung against the window as Hank turned sharply and sent them flying towards Main Street.
“Wheee!” she said before she could stop herself. “I mean, shame on you, dear, you’re breaking the law.”
***
tbc on Sat, Tues, Thurs until we're done. Nearly there!
Thanks to Erin for identifying exactly what didn't work. And to Labrat for "Demand a couple of bear claws and to be taken to their leader." Best. Line. Ever.
