In a Better Place, from part 13...
“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.”
And now...
***
“You want to see Andrus?” asked the startled, stammering bakery worker behind the counter. His eyes darted back and forth between Lois, Clark, and Silas, as he swallowed convulsively. “H-he no longer works here. In fact, he’s gone away for an undetermined amount of time.”
“Great,” muttered Lois under her breath. “Just... perfect.”
She felt Clark’s hand move to the small of her back, his warm fingers spreading along her spine, partly to show support. And partly, she knew, in the hope she wasn’t about to pull the busy worker bee up and over the glass case and shake him until his perfect white teeth rattled.
“And this Andrus,” Clark was saying, “he’s about... this tall?” He held his free hand up to indicate height. Lois used her hand to push Clark’s down an inch or two more. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she shrugged. She was good at estimating heights. Always had been. If there had been a carnival booth dedicated to just that, she would have cleaned up every time.
“I stand corrected,” said Clark, the hand on her back giving her a friendly pat, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “He’s about this tall. Has blond hair. In his fifties, or later, maybe. Soft-spoken.”
“Mild-mannered,” Lois filled-in.
“That, too,” said Clark. “Does that sound like the same man who worked here?”
Again the anxious gulp and the bulging eyes, as the bakery worker nodded frantically. “That’s him. That’s Andrus. And... for whatever he did to you, we at the Helpers and Peacekeepers Bakery formally apologize.”
Lois straightened, watching a bead of sweat work its way down the man’s brow. This was not your normal reaction. Nowhere close. He was nervous, obviously. And had been since Silas had placed their order and mentioned the locks on the door. The man whose name tag read ‘I’m Neville. How may I be most helpful to you?’ had been disbelieving. Nearly offended at the very idea the establishment could have been locked. A sticky door, maybe, from all the sugar build up, had been his best guess. He had sent another worker over to wipe it down, tut-tutting as he did so.
But then Lois had wondered aloud if her friend Andrus still worked here. And in front of their eyes, he had dissolved at an alarming rate.
Which was good. Really, really good. Clearly there was something here, and it was close to bursting from Neville’s twitchy skin. It wouldn’t take any time at all.
She knew that Silas and Clark agreed. They were doing a great job of appearing nonchalant, but Silas’s hands, wrapped around his coffee mug, were trembling with excitement. And the muscle in Clark’s jaw was jumping.
“Your bear claws will be up in two minutes,” their target offered in tones of absolute desperation. “If you’d care to take a seat? I’ll bring them to you.”
Lois figured they should do exactly that. Anything less, and he was going to swoon into the pastries, which would render him useless, and the loss of pastries would be terrible. They would stay and eat, she decided. Slowly. Savoring every bite as they watched him and anyone he spoke to, anyone who came in and out...
“Sure,” said Silas with a friendly smile. “And about that apology. Of course it’s accepted, that goes without saying. But if you don’t mind, we’d love to speak to your manager.”
Yes! And speak to the manager. Lois tacked that onto their to-do list. She gave Silas a fast pat on the back. “Good one, Junior.”
“Thanks, Grams,” he returned in a low voice.
The baker was nodding so vigorously he had nearly lost his chef’s hat. “As soon as she arrives. It should be soon. Don’t know why she isn’t here already. Bear claws and then manager. And... we really are sorry. No charge for breakfast. We didn’t charge anyone else. And we can refund what you paid on your last visit. You just tell us how we can make this up to you. Your business is important to us. Have a peaceful day.”
“He said that all in one breath,” said Clark, as he pulled her chair out for her.
“And he’s about to have a stroke,” added Silas. “Did you hear his heartbeat? You could dance to it.”
“There is definitely something here,” said Lois, wincing as she tried to sip her coffee. She noticed Silas and Clark were having no trouble drinking theirs, but hers, as of yet, was blistering hot.
“Can’t wait to hear what the manager has to say,” Clark agreed, leaning towards her and blowing softly over her mug for the briefest instant.
He winked at her and went back to his own coffee. She tried a tentative sip. Perfect. No wonder she had married him. Or... would marry him. Or... something.
“In the meantime,” Silas said, “the bear claws here are outstanding. Just wait until you taste them.”
***
“You’re sure you don’t want to take anyone with you?” Madge asked again. Even she was tired of hearing the question out of her own mouth.
“It’s better kept between us; don’t you think?” Hank returned automatically, as he had been doing the last fifteen minutes.
“Ok, then.”
They hustled up the basement stairs. “You going to tell me where we’re headed?” Hank’s voice was close behind. Madge was moving as fast as she could, but conceded she maybe wasn’t as spry as she had once been.
“I’m saving that for a surprise,” she panted.
“‘The timestream is an exceedingly dangerous device,’” began Hank, quoting from the Peackeepers Handbook. “‘It is never used without grave and deliberate consideration and a vote of the majority of elders. This rule is irrefutable and non-negotiable....’”
“And about to fly out the window,” finished Madge.
Hank’s laugh bordered on hysterical. “You and I are either going to be heroes evermore, or damned to be deported like Tempus was.”
“I’ll settle for either one,” Madge said whole-heartedly, as she pushed open her office door. “As long as there are people left to deport us.”
“It’s in here? In your office?”
Madge's affirmation died on her lips as she and Hank pulled up short, only belatedly realizing they weren't the room's only occupants.
“Anna!” Madge had narrowly avoided barreling into her receptionist. “Whatever brings you here at this hour?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” said Anna, flashing her a shy smile, her arms filled with files from Madge’s desk. “And I knew the day would start early, so....”
“You should go home to your loved ones,” said Madge firmly. “Take today off. We're working on a new approach, the results of which won’t be known for a few hours, at least. And... whatever happens... I want you to have seen your parents, dear.”
“You need me,” said Anna, standing her ground. “Even if it’s just coffee and filing. I’m not leaving.”
Madge heard Hank’s impatient exhale and muttering behind her. Knew how close he was to picking sweet Anna up and tossing her down the basement stairs. But Madge was immeasurably warmed by the fierce support of the woman in front of her. “I’m giving you a chance to leave,” she said to her honestly, now. “Hank and I are about to commit treason.”
Anna blinked. The files she had gathered dropped from her hands and spread over the floor. “You’ll... need tea for that,” she said faintly, before darting around them and out the door. “I’ll be fast. And if anyone comes, I’ll... scald them.”
“Now I think I’ve seen everything,” said Hank into the shocked beat of silence Anna left behind.
“Quite,” agreed Madge, “and speaking of tea, help me move this tea table. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“Don't tell me the timestream runs under your tea table,” said Hank, staring hard at her.
But Madge was already pushing the heavy piece of furniture to the side.
“Quickly,” she said to him. “I can program it after you jump.”
“Under the tea table,” he repeated in disbelief, even as he was obediently moving it aside.
“And under the rug, of course,” added Madge, rolling it up quickly.
“And under this sheet of plywood.” Hank lifted it away and propped it against the wall.
“And this lead plate, dear,” Madge said. “Far too heavy for me.”
“Lead plate?” Hank looked at her. “Why on earth?”
“Odias thought it was a good idea.”
“Director Sinders put the secret timestream in here?” Hank tugged the heavy sheet of lead out of the way.
“He thought it might be wise,” Madge admitted. “The old goat was right, wasn’t he?”
She reached into her robes and pulled out a handle, fitting it into the grooves on the door.
Hank’s eyes widened a considerable few inches.
“It works like the main one. You jump. I’ll program your current. You should be right on the mark.”
As she pried the square door open, the sound of the rippling stream filled the room, and the reflection of its colors danced across the walls and ceilings like frantic, darting rainbows.
“You are... an amazing woman.” Hank stepped towards it. At the last minute he pulled her into a fast, tight hug. “I’ll go get Tempus. Tell him our deal.”
“He’ll take it,” Madge said with a conviction she knew to be completely true. Tempus would take the deal. He would take it and love it. And she was prepared to answer to whomever she would have to in order to defend their course of action. And she was more than ready to play ball with Tempus right out in the open from now on.
Behind them the door flew wide. Petal, dripping head to toe in tea, was chased into the room by a contrite and concerned Anna. “I didn’t get a chance to get it hot enough,” Anna apologized miserably.
“Don’t worry, Anna, accidents happen,” Petal responded, pushing the wet curtain of hair off her face. She paused only a moment at the sight in front of her. In one quick, calculating glance she took in their surprised faces, the rearranged furniture, the door in the floor, Hank poised to jump...
Her features morphed from confusion to steely resolve in an instant. “Not without me, you don’t.” She took a running leap and beat Hank in by a nose.
Madge lowered the door behind them and removed the handle, returning it to her robes. With a small remote she entered their destination code.
“I believe I’ll have that tea now, Anna.”
***
They had made their way through a half dozen bear claws and two pots of coffee before the wind-blown manager, cheeks bright and robes flying, bustled into the store.
Lois knew that’s exactly who she was, because at the sight of her, the miserable, on edge Neville moved towards the woman in a blur of sweat and powdered sugar, wiping his hands on his apron and gesturing frantically in their direction.
“Listen in on this,” Lois ordered the men at her table. Though one look at them told her they already were. “And tell me everything,” she added with a scowl, not used to being the one at a disadvantage while investigating. “Right now.”
Clark smiled absently and moved his hand over hers.
“He’s saying... ‘What took you so long?’” Silas said quietly. “‘These customers have been here over an hour.’”
“‘You won’t believe what I just had to go through on the trip over,” returned Clark, apparently as the voice of the manager. “‘There were... lots and lots of cars. And they were... all bunched up... practically stopped... the main thoroughfare is almost impassable... people were... almost... angry... with one another and all the waiting. It was... endless.’”
“Rush hour traffic,” hissed Lois. “What’s the big deal?”
“We don’t have any,” Silas said, looking between them. “Ever. The commuter rails are set for certain speeds. You load your vehicle on, you sit back and go at your assigned pace. No traffic.”
Clark held up his hand for silence. He and Silas went back to the identical head tilt.
“‘Oh, no, Neville. Don’t tell me,'” Clark repeated. “’More victims of Andrus?’”
The three of them shared a somewhat gleeful, incredulous look. Lois turned her head just in time to catch their worried baker nodding vehemently. "We're getting somewhere," she breathed.
“‘They came in as soon as we opened. I gave them everything on the house. Offered our formal apology. But they asked to see you!’” Silas whispered for her.
Lois watched as the manager sighed deeply and unwrapped her scarf. “‘Don’t worry, Neville. I’ll handle it,’” Clark told her. “‘But will that man’s treachery never end? How long are we going to have to pay for his mistakes?’”
“‘Until he isn’t related to the boss?’” Neville guessed in Silas’s voice.
The manager now looked their way, giving them a warm smile that in no way indicated she had been trapped in her first traffic jam, and now had to deal with a situation she clearly did not relish. “Peaceful morning to you. My name's Charity..."
Lois snorted. "Of course it is," she said in a low voice.
”...I'll just put my things away and be right with you,” the manager finished.
They nodded and smiled back as warmly as she. Or they tried. "We are definitely in the right place,” said Lois, her voice rich with satisfaction.
“Thank God,” said Silas.
“Don’t take your eyes off her,” Lois told Clark, even as he was shifting around in his chair under the guise of admiring the display case full of pastries and cakes on the far wall.
“She’s in the back room. There’s a small office. A table, one lamp...”
“No drawers with files to rifle through?” Lois tried to squelch her disappointment. It was nice that Clark and Silas could see and hear everything, but she was dying to get her hands on something solid. Something tangible she could hold, look at, read for clues to connect all the dots.
“Any bakery records would be on holodisk, anyway,” said Silas. “Paper is a nostalgia item.”
“What’s she doing now?” Lois asked.
“Taking off her coat and doing deep breathing exercises, I think,” returned Silas automatically.
Lois’s gaze shot back to Clark’s, expecting to find surprise equal to her own. Instead, he was smiling a small, knowing smile. His hand gave hers a meaningful squeeze. She understood its message, and refrained from pointing out to Junior he had just looked through a wall.
Her eyes still on Clark, she saw the exact moment his casual, searching gaze sharpened. The hand in hers went tense as he straightened in his chair. “What?”
Clark leaned in close. “This entire back wall...” He inclined his head to the one running the length of the building behind her. “... is lined in lead.”
“And?” she said, not following, but wanting to understand the change in his easy demeanor.
“I can’t see through lead,” he told her. “X-ray vision can’t penetrate it. Or... at least, mine doesn’t. I don’t know if that’s... unique to me.” He looked at Silas, his voice nothing more than deliberately casual. “Do you know, Silas?”
“No one with x-ray vision can see through lead,” Silas said simply, intent as he was on studying the back wall. “But lead shielding isn’t all that uncommon. It’s a hold over. The first few generations of your sons and daughters almost all had x-ray vision. Initially, a lot of people felt sort of... weird... in a city they shared with hundreds of Lane-Kents who could see anything they wanted to.”
“But they wouldn’t have violated anyone’s privacy, would they?” asked Clark, aghast.
“If they wouldn’t, they were definitely more Kent than Lane,” sighed Lois. “I mean...just imagine what an investigative reporter could do with x-ray vision and superhearing and...ohhh.... Oh! We’re partners! At the Planet! Oh god... Clark and I must have been great together!” She grabbed Silas by the arm. “We were, weren’t we?”
Silas laughed. “Am I allowed to even tell you? I don’t know how this works.”
“How this works, Junior, is that I ask and you answer.”
“I don’t know, Lois,” interrupted Clark. “Maybe we need to learn our lesson with the HEA room and the Departure room. There is so much information here we are clearly not meant to have-”
“Kerths?” pressed Lois, ignoring him. “Pulitzers?” she asked, heart in her throat.
“You really want to know?” Silas teased.
She glared.
“Yes,” Silas said simply. “But I’m not saying what for or how many.”
“Oh.” She covered her mouth with one hand and flopped back into her seat.
Clark was laughing at her, eyes shining, clearly as delighted with that news as she was. “See? There were... or are... advantages to having me around.”
She rolled her eyes. “I am almost certain you rode my coat-tails, Kent. Yeah, you can see through walls, but someone had to tell you where to look.”
His eyes turned serious, warm, but deeply serious. “I’m nearly positive that’s exactly how it went. Or will go. You know what I mean.”
“That is how it went,” Silas filled in, with obvious enjoyment. “Without Grams, you wouldn’t have been nearly so super. Or... that’s how legend has it.”
“It’s true,” Clark said. “I knew that from the very first second.”
“I think maybe I did, too,” she heard herself say, to her utter disbelief. And try though she might, she knew there was no getting those words back.
Clark’s laughter stopped quickly and his eyebrows rose into his hairline
“I mean... you know... maybe not... right away. Not when Clark Greenjeans Kent fell into my lap still with hayseed between his teeth. But... later... when you showed up at the shuttle...”
"You met me twice, really," Clark returned slowly. "So maybe you just needed to know... both of me to...?”
“I would have known you weren't two people if I'd had more time. You were pretty obvious, and I was figuring you out in the park. If things hadn't gotten so insane, I would have put my finger on exactly who you were, I'm sure of it.”
Clark nodded thoughtfully. "I think you're right. You nearly had me. I knew I was in serious trouble. Besides, you're an investigative reporter, so it stands to reason..."
Silas coughed and sputtered, choking on his coffee.
Lois gave him a few hearty thumps on the back. “Is that how it went, Silas? Once I saw Clark in both guises, I was pretty much in on the secret and... with him, helping him?”
“I am not touching that question with a ten foot pole,” Silas wheezed, eyes tearing.
“Uh oh,” said Clark.
“Twenty foot,” amended Silas, between strangled breaths. “And look. I’m saved. Here comes the manager now.”
***
Anna knocked on the door, interrupting Madge’s nervous pacing. “Is it the elders?” she asked. "Have they arrived?"
She was dreading their return. Knowing full well they would summon her as soon as they were convened. They would be eager to hear what progress she had made...
Madge swallowed hard against the nerves leaping in her stomach. She had made this decision. She had sent Hank and Petal into the timestream to get Tempus. To offer him a lifetime of legendary status. She had done it, and she didn’t regret it. She would do it over again in an instant.
Still... she didn’t relish saying exactly that to those who held her job and her fate in their hands. She halfway feared she would kill some of them outright. That some of the weaker, less hearty members would be dropping dead right onto the highly polished floor before she got the words fully out of her mouth.
But more than anything, Madge wanted to see this through. Whatever happened hereafter, whatever they chose to do with her, she would not fight it. But she didn’t want to be forced to leave before she had finished her job. Before she had fixed everything and saved Utopia.
Anna cleared her throat softly, and Madge became aware that while she had been staring at her receptionist and waiting for her answer, she hadn’t actually heard it.
“Sorry, dear. What was that?”
“It’s the bakery. They’re doing another Temporal Plane Adjustment. They wanted us forewarned so we can be ready.”
‘That’s the third one this week!” Madge exclaimed. “Of all the lousy timing,” she allowed herself to mutter grumpily.
She sighed and moved to secure her saucer and tea cup. Her favorite ones had been broken in the previous adjustment, which had come with no warning at all. She capped the bottle of milk and set it on the sofa, wedged between the cushions to keep it upright.
“Just tell me this is only a test. Not another official tour of the bakery offered as apology to another of Andrus’s food poisoning victims,” she grouched, as she placed all her holophotos face down on the surface of her desk.
“You don’t want me to answer that,” said Anna mildly, fastening the file drawers closed and securing the doors to the instrument panel. “Are we ready?”
Madge nodded. “I hate these things. Make me slightly sea sick.”
“I think they’re a lot smoother than they used to be. And at least they gave notice this time.”
Anna moved to the intercom. “Turn the oven knob, Neville. We’re ready.”
Both women sat down, holding the edges of their chairs. Madge always found it better to close her eyes and wait until the spinning sensation stopped completely before opening them or trying to stand.
Anna, however, did no such thing, but then again, she enjoyed roller coasters. “We’re here.”
Madge peered out of one cautious eye in time to see Anna hop to her feet and move to check the gauge on the wall. “Alternate Temporal Plane number 3-7-1.”
“My favorite,” said Madge a little weakly. “How long do you think we'll be stuck here?”
She was fairly certain, should it be necessary, she could program the timestream to redirect Petal, Hank, and Tempus. Their return would be smooth and on target despite the time-space shift. But at this point, she desperately did not want to take chances or throw in any additional variables to court bad luck.
“Just long enough for whoever’s taking the tour to see how completely empty the building is.”
“As I understand it, it’s full of hungry cats.”
“Poor things,” Anna said. “But Neville does feed them, and they make a lovely cover.”
“A roomful of cats looking for their next meal,” Madge agreed. “What could be more innocent?”
***
“Just tell me you’ve called the Health Department.” Lois stepped back sharply as one of the buildings inhabitants dared try rub up against her.
Charity smiled, though her cheeks bloomed a slightly embarrassed pink. “The poor things are Utopia’s strays. They are everyone’s responsibility.”
“A bakery and a homeless shelter for cats,” muttered Lois. “What else would there be? What on earth was I thinking...?" She nudged another cat out of her way, and Clark turned from x-raying the empty offices to study her. Underneath the glare and simmering frustration, she looked exactly how he felt. Pole-axed.
“This building isn’t really used, then?” he asked, though he knew the answer was more than obvious.
The manager, who had offered to show them around before they had even asked, shook her head. “Oh no, we use it. It would be wasteful not to. Neville feeds the cats and we use the cellar for the freezer space.”
“Great,” said Clark. “Thank you. You’ve been... very kind, Charity.” He had a little trouble getting those last words out.
He had been so sure, so certain. They all had. When the name Andrus has gotten the reaction it had, when he had noticed the lead-lined wall, been able to detect the outline of an entire building...
Despite Silas's assurances that lead-lining, though outdated, did still exist in Utopia, he'd just known they had found something. Something big, something they desperately needed.
Behind a bakery? asked his inner skeptic. Or maybe his inner skeptic was Lois, and he was just reading her mind. Her thoughts were coming through crystal clear, despite her carefully blank expression. She was as bitterly disappointed as he was, and no doubt feeling just as foolish.
The three of them had been nearly giddy just minutes before, making the crash back to reality all the harder.
When they had put together what Silas had told them about the history of the Peacekeepers with everything he and Lois could remember of their one encounter with them, it had all seemed to make sense.
A twisted kind of sense, but still...
And for a minute, maybe less, just before Charity had opened the doors in front of them, Clark would have sworn he had heard voices coming from inside.
Wishful thinking, maybe? What he had wanted to hear, so he had? Because the space he had now studied every inch of wasn't filled with the robe-wearing, time-travel guardians of Superman and Lois Lane. Instead it was filled with...
A loud, peevish meow punctured his thoughts perfectly.
“It’s the least we could do," Charity was still speaking, though Clark had barely registered the words in the last minute. "And again, for whatever discomfort you suffered, we are truly sorry. Andrus was asked to throw out all the eggs that were outdated. And for some reason, he heard that as ‘put them in the soufflé.’ He meant no harm. And he’s really very bright and well meaning, just... easily distracted.”
“And you have no idea where he is? No address where we might find him?” Lois asked, still trying, still reluctant, Clark knew, to declare their first and only lead a bust.
“He has left Utopia. He travels often, leaves no itinerary behind. Again, as the manager, I do offer my sincerest apology. We are very sorry.”
“Not as sorry as we are.” Lois’s sharp, troubled gaze went straight through him. Clark managed a half-smile and shrug of his shoulders. He didn't have anything more than that to offer.
Silas, for his part, was still saying nothing.
“Can we leave out this back way?” Clark gestured to the staircase leading to the cellar. “I’ve had so many of your pastries I could stand to walk them off.”
“Of course. I hope you enjoyed your breakfast. Have a -”
“-peaceful day. Yeah, got it,” Lois finished for her, turning and hitting the stairs at a run.
***
tbc on Tuesday.
Thank you to Kathy M for the tweaked line!
(And this wasn't short, rivka!)
