[Chapter 14: Detour]"The one and the same," H.G. Wells stated, beaming. "But on to why I'm here. I'm going to tell you some rather unbelievable things, but I'm hoping you'll help me. I believe I'm in the right universe, but it's best to be sure. May I come in?"
"Right universe?" Lois asked, latching onto the odd phrase while quickly doing a threat assessment as well as attempting to gauge the man’s sanity.
Her tendency to jump in without checking the water caused her to step back and open the door for him.
"Oh, thank you," he said as he entered.
She closed the door as she kept her eyes on him, taking in his odd dress and how he appeared to be absolutely fascinated by everything he saw.
She wasn't sure why, but her thoughts went to the images Kal had drawn of the time machine. This guy . . . could he have made it? It did seem to fit in a bizarre sort of way. If anyone would have a wicker chair on a time machine, this fellow would.
"Are you here to take Kal home to his Earth?" Lois asked point blank, following her intuition.
The man startled, surprised, but pleasantly so. "Why, yes! Yes, I am. It's so good to have confirmation that I'm in the right universe and at the right time!"
"Well, I'm sure Kal will be even happier. He's been hoping someone would come and take him home for a while," Lois said, sagging in relief.
“He has? Oh my, how long has he been here?” he asked.
“About a month,” she said.
“Oh dear!” he gasped.
She blinked at his alarm. “What?”
“The timeline! His presence may have disrupted your world’s future!”
“Of course it has, how could it not?” Lois stated, baffled by the man’s response.
Of course Kal’s presence had changed things! And considering what he had done and warned them about, she was glad it had!
“My dear, I fear you don’t understand. There are certain things that must happen or Utopia won't come to be," he explained.
"Utopia?" she asked, for some reason feeling somewhat perturbed by his words.
"Yes. You see, the twenty-second century is a peaceful, harmonious Utopia. No violence, no crime. It was founded by Superman's descendants," he happily explained.
Lois gasped, startled by the idea of her becoming a mother before it was immediately joined by an astonished realization of what else it would mean if what Wells said came to pass.
Clark would be a father.
Superman would have children!
She would be their mother.
"Clark and I have children!?" She gasped again. "So that must also mean Kal can have children back on his world too!"
Wells reeled back and went white. "You know?!"
"What?" she asked, yet again confused by his reaction. Really, for a guy who knows the future, he sure gets surprised a lot.
"You know that . . . you know, Clark is. . . ." He did a quick swooping motion with his hand.
"That he's Superman? Of course! And after everything, even if he hadn't told me, I would have figured it out soon enough. What do you think I am? Galactically stupid?" she asked, now annoyed.
"No! No, of course not, Ms. Lane," he quickly backpedaled. "I'm just . . . surprised."
"Disturbed more like," she muttered, not quite to herself.
Wells pressed on. "But back to why I'm here. I need to find the Clark of the other Earth. Do you know where we can find him?"
"He's with Clark at the Foundation. I can page Clark or–" she paused thoughtfully and glanced at the time. "Oh, what the heck, they should almost be done anyway. SUPERMAN, KAL!!"
The window opened two seconds later with Kal and Clark appearing in her living room, both in their suits.
"Oh my!" Wells exclaimed, hand on his chest.
Lois couldn’t help but smirk, knowing he was reacting to more than just Superman and Kal's sudden arrival.
Kal’s aura had filled the room, and she could feel his concern and bewilderment against her skin.
"Lois, is everything alright?" Clark asked, his cape settling behind him.
"Who is this?" Kal asked, looking at Wells with his good eye.
"This is H.G. Wells. He’s here to take you home, Kal,” Lois declared happily.
"Wells the writer? He's dead," Clark stated.
"Only some of the time," Wells answered as Kal scrutinized him. "Right now, I'm alive."
Kal's eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’re definitely not from this time," he stated, his tone quickly becoming hopeful.
"Oh!? You can tell?" Wells asked, very chipper and curious.
"Your clothing has no artificial fibers and you have scarring in your lungs indicative of tuberculosis, though you no longer have it," Kal answered.
"Oh, very good, very good! You are an excellent investigator, which explains why you're a P.I.," Wells said happily.
Kal glanced at Lois and Clark before looking back at Wells.
"Uh, thank you. So you're here to take me home?" Kal asked, his desire clear.
"Yes, though I'm afraid before we go, we need to put a few things right here," Wells said, growing very serious.
"What do you mean?" Kal asked.
"Well, your presence here has unavoidably changed this world’s future and, for the sake of the future, we should correct that," Wells advised.
"What?!" Lois exclaimed, not liking that idea at all.
That would mean Clark wouldn't be saved by Kal!
Lois glanced at Clark and immediately saw he wasn’t too enthused either, but then she looked at Kal. . . .
His aura had become eerily still, as if he was forcing himself to count backwards from ten.
"No. We won’t be doing that," Kal stated flatly.
If Lois didn't know better, she'd say they were currently in the eye of a massive storm.
"But . . . uh, Kal, because Ms. Lane knows who Clark is sooner than she would have . . . that will likely drastically change things. It could even prevent Utopia from coming to be," Wells said nervously.
"Well, I don't know what perfect future you're talking about, but I'll tell you what definitely would happen if we undid what my presence has changed here. Clark here would have been shot point blank in front of dozens of witnesses. Hundreds of people would be dead now due to the earthquake a few days ago, and thousands of those I saved these past few weeks would not be home with their families right now–" Kal replied before Lois cut in.
"Yeah! And Clark may have never found and downloaded the crystal from his birth mother, and we would not be preparing for Nor and his assassins!" Lois pointed out.
Wells had stilled at Kal's words before growing alarmed by Lois' declaration.
"Do you exist because of that future?" Kal suddenly asked, his aura rippling with exasperation that was barely restrained from becoming something more violent. "Or does being a time traveler shield you from changes in the time continuum?"
Wells gaped at him. "Oh, heavens, you're right! If your presence had changed things too much for this world, I wouldn't be standing here!" he gasped, before growing confused. "How do you know about the time continuum? Oh, right! I should have remembered. One of my counterparts encountered you before, but you didn't have the eyepatch yet. You had set certain things straight then too. Thanks to sci-fi movies, right?"
Kal blinked, suddenly recalling the time, years ago, when he had had the strangest urge to add a strongly worded request to his will.
"That's why I had the urge to change my will three years ago?!" Kal asked, baffled.
"Your will?" Clark asked. "What did you change?"
"I added a paragraph asking the world to always have Star Trek and other sci-fi shows and movies available. I also emphasized the importance of education, having purpose, and pursuing personal happiness with common good in mind," Kal said.
"Wow," Clark said, "I can see how a society following that would be able to do anything."
"Quite right," Wells agreed.
Lois blinked and looked at Kal. "And you did that because of an urge?"
"It was very powerful, and it wasn't anything I didn't want," Kal said. "Though . . . was that your counterpart’s doing? Did he make me do that?"
"Oh, no! No, that was all you. We don’t quite understand how, but you did that on your own," Wells quickly assured. "We suspect it involved your soul, because souls are eternal and yours is especially dense. . ." He grew still, intently focusing his gaze on Kal. His eyes suddenly widened in astonishment.
"What?" Kal asked, a little perturbed.
"I just . . . Are you
that Clark Kent?" Wells replied in an awed whisper. "It’d mean you must lose the patch at some point. . . ."
"Did we miss something?" Clark asked, confused.
Lois shrugged. "Maybe traveling through space and time too often rattles your brains."
"Your aura . . . you can heal with it, can’t you?" Wells asked tentatively.
"Yes. Why?" Kal answered, bewildered.
Wells grew excited. "You are that Clark!"
"Okay,
what are you going on about?!" Lois suddenly huffed.
"My apologies, Ms. Lane, it's just that . . . Kal here is . . . well, my counterpart has mentioned him a few times but I hadn't realized you were the same one who used sci-fi to address certain issues and had an eyepatch."
"Okay, just how many different versions of us are there?" Lois complained.
"Many. Last count was 57. Of course, each version has their differences - of varying degrees," Wells answered.
"Wow. I imagine all of that's hard to keep track of," Clark said sympathetically.
“Quite right,” Wells agreed before straightening in joy. “Oh, this may just be the solution I’ve been searching for!”
"What?" Lois asked, impatient.
"Would you mind if we made a detour once we leave here? I promise it won't take very long and we'll go to your Earth right after," Wells said urgently, looking at Kal.
"A detour? To where?" Kal asked, confused.
"To an alternate Earth. An Earth where Ms. Lane is presumed dead and the whole world knows the truth of Clark Kent's identity," Wells said.
"What?!" Clark asked, horrified.
"Lois is presumed dead?" Kal asked, clearly imagining the horrible state as a spike of empathetic despair rippled through his aura. "Where is she?"
Wells sighed. "She's in a long-term care facility in Europe. Without going into the history, she's in a coma and no one knows who she is. I was recently able to track her down to that point, but her condition is . . . beyond what medical science can address. Even if I were to sneak her to the future, the technology there would only be able to prolong her life in her current state, and even then it'd only be a few more months."
"Does
that Clark know?" Clark asked thinly.
"No. When I found her and learned of her fate, I felt the truth would be too cruel, and while I tried to trace her steps in an attempt to prevent what has befallen her while avoiding a time paradox, the trail went cold. However, now. . . ." He looked at Kal. "There might be hope, with your aura."
Kal looked at Lois and Clark before looking back at Wells. It had been less than a week since the stadium, but he felt back to his normal self. A few days shy of the full week of the prescribed rest was acceptable, especially if it meant he could get home sooner.
"Okay. Give me thirty minutes and then we'll go. I want to leave a letter for the Foundation here and say goodbye, especially to the Kents," Kal stated, his aura the most relaxed it had been since arriving with Clark.
"Of course. That's the good thing about having a time machine. There's usually no rush," Wells assured.
O o O o O
Kal knew the world would likely be disappointed that he would not be present at the signing ceremony of the Treaty of El, but, personally, he was relieved he would not be present – for a multitude of reasons.
However, he knew it was important to provide Clark's world with a tangible farewell, however brief, and hoped his statement and formal letter would suffice. He really didn't want to stay a moment longer than absolutely necessary.
"Ready?" Wells asked once Kal had landed, returning from Smallville, which he had visited after delivering a letter to the Foundation.
Kal nodded, wearing his uniform. The crystals were secure in the cape pocket.
Lois and Clark were already there, looking just as bewildered by the strange contraption behind Wells as he felt. It was similar to the one that had exploded, with slight differences – though the wicker chair and giant clock were identical.
"Good-bye, Kal, and thank you," Clark said, shaking his hand.
"Yes, thank you so much," Lois agreed, before giving him a hug.
They were in a secluded alley not too far from Lois' apartment, and Kal couldn't help but wonder if the machine gave off a special energy discouraging the average person from approaching. It truly was bizarre that Wells would feel comfortable enough to leave it unattended. Granted, a version of the machine had been stolen, so. . . .
"I'm glad I could help," he said, pulling back.
With a final nod to Lois and Clark, he got on the time machine with H.G. Wells.
"Alright, here we go," Wells said, turning a few dials before pulling a lever once Kal had taken a seat.
A bubble similar to the one before materialized around them, and then they were in a place Kal could only define as between space and time.
“This other Clark, does he still work now that the world knows the truth? Where does he even live?” Kal asked.
“He’s actually still living in the same apartment that all Clarks seem to first rent in Metropolis. Very fascinating similarity,” Wells said. “As for work, he does a great deal with his version of the Foundation, but I’m not sure if he’s still employed at the Daily Planet or not. He’s closer to the Clark we just left than you, as his universe’s path deviated from the other Clark’s when he was ten.”
“Ten? What happened?” Kal asked, not liking the turbulent and pained emotions now leaking from Wells’ small frame.
Wells glanced at him as they continued whizzing through the bizarre space on what Kal was trying not to mentally call a magic carpet. Finally, Wells answered. “I suppose there’s no harm. When he was ten, the Kents were in a dreadful car accident and were killed. Afterwards, Clark was placed in foster care.”
“He’s been alone all this time?” Kal asked, appalled.
“Essentially, yes. It’s why I . . . why I’ve asked you to help.”
Kal took a deep breath, unable to prevent himself from imagining himself in this AltClark’s place. How different would his life have been if his parents had died before he had fully developed all of his powers? How had this Clark stayed hidden? Or was that why he was now known? But then, how had he gotten a job at the Planet if he hadn’t remained hidden?
“How did he become Superman? I can’t imagine much of his life being like mine due to him being placed in foster care,” Kal said.
“Oh! Uh,” Wells said, uncertainty ebbing from him in such a pungent way that Kal was certain he was feeling almost ashamed. “A, uh, another time traveler . . . well, a version of the one who had stolen the crystals from your world . . . Tempus, he kidnapped a version of Lois and . . . well, she helped this Clark become Superman.”
Kal wanted to facepalm but resisted. “Don’t tell me, he also stole a version of the time machine.”
Wells’ silence was disheartening.
Kal rested his forehead in his palm. Well, perhaps that event was good for this Clark?
"When we arrive, it is imperative no one sees you. So wait above the clouds until her room is empty before going in," Wells said, deciding it best to move on.
"What happened to Lois here?" Kal asked, accepting the change in topic.
"A few years ago, she had tracked down some gun smugglers in the Congo. From there, I have only rough guesses, nothing concrete, other than that she was moved to the long-term care facility earlier this year after being relocated from a mission hospital in another country.”
"What are her injuries?" Kal asked.
"I suppose it is best I prepare you," he said heavily, resigned. "Again, I don't know how this happened, but her files state that when she was first brought into the hospital, she had internal injuries and third-degree burns on her body, including her face. Most of that damage has healed as well as can be expected, but the heart of the matter is the trauma to her skull and brain, which is why she's in a coma. Truly, it's a miracle she's still here."
Kal took a deep breath and brought his fist to his mouth.
“Alright there, my boy?” Wells asked.
He nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Just hard to imagine that happening to Lois. Any Lois.”
“Yes. It is distressing,” Wells agreed solemnly.
A moment later, they materialized in the alt-world.
Kal looked around. It was night, and they were in a field behind an outcrop of trees, away from prying eyes.
“The facility is that way, and her room should be on the third floor, west side. The name they have her under is Maria Hughes,” Wells said. "Long story that I'm still working out."
“Alright. Any idea on how much time I may have?" Kal asked.
"I can't imagine more than an hour," Wells estimated.
Kal nodded as another thought came to him. "That should be plenty of time."
"I'll wait here," Wells stated.
"If at all possible, when I leave, Lois will be fully healed. I can't imagine the consequences of that being small,” Kal said pointedly.
“I understand. I’ll address it if need be,” Wells said.
Kal stilled. He frankly doubted Wells truly understood, and Kal was hesitant to elaborate, simply because . . . this man did not fill him with much confidence.
If this Lois was as bad off as Wells had said, there would be lasting consequences for Lois once Kal healed her. Like Melissa, she might even obtain an aura of her own, which was anyone’s guess to what it could mean for her.
Kal couldn’t keep that knowledge from any Lois.
“Okay,” he told Wells, before disappearing into the sky.
He shot beyond the facility, seeking the nearest post office. Ignoring his conscience, he broke in after checking for cameras, snatched a paper, pen, and necessary postage, and wrote the fastest letter he had ever penned before dropping it in the outgoing mailbox and leaving a few dollars on the register.
Hopefully it would make it to the States once things had settled enough and Lois had returned.
Unfortunately, he was more certain on that letter arriving where and when it should than a time machine never being stolen again.
Pushing that troubling thought aside, he shot back to the facility, and a minute later, Kal was waiting above the clouds over the room of this world’s Lois Lane. Waiting for the nurse to leave.
And then Lois was alone in the room.
He shot down before he allowed himself to fully process what he was flying into.
The smell of sanitizer slammed into his nose as he softly shut and locked the room's door, but the sight of the fragile form on the bed struck the center of his heart far, far, harder when he turned around.
The scarring from the facial burn was in clear sight, and the hook-ups to the life monitoring and sustaining equipment were substantial, including a ventilator.
Without much conscious thought, he approached the bed and relaxed his aura, just enough, and expanded it around her as he took hold of her scarred hand.
It was Lois, but definitely not
his Lois. However, as harmed as she was, she was still beautiful. Her life force sang, however distantly.
He slowly exhaled and peered deeper, both with his eye and his aura.
The trauma was worse than what Wells had summarized. A part of her liver had been removed as well as the kidney on that side, and he could sense the reduced blood flow to the rest of her liver slowly causing a decline in function. The bottom most lobe of her right lung had also been removed, and, from the shape of her ribs, it was clear they had been the reason such a surgery had been required. Burn scars covered her face, neck, and both hands, and the skull fractures, while now healed, had left her brain to cope with the aftermath, and it wasn't getting better.
He took a deep breath and braced himself as he knelt at her bedside. There was no time for hesitation.
He gently placed his left hand on her forehead with his right hand in her own, knowing skin-to-skin was best.
Distantly, he wondered if his alternate self would one day place his hand where he was, and if he would find as much joy in her as he did in his Lois. He hoped so. No one should have to live their life alone.
With that extra motivation, he allowed his aura to saturate her.
The pull from his center was intense, but not as severe as he had prepared himself for, though that may have been due to being distracted by her body healing and feeling how much her life force resembled Lois'.
Beeping from the machines began to sound, but he paid them little mind. His attention was fixed on Lois, oblivious to the sudden activity happening outside the room.
The old burns on her hands, face, and neck bled away, leaving behind baby-like, pink skin. The scar tissue from the surgeries evaporated, and arteries and capillaries grew and branched out, revitalizing choked areas of tissue and pockets of struggling brain matter. Slowly dying organs surged back to life and her partial liver grew to its former size, once again carrying out its full function. Her incomplete lung strengthened, and he had to react to her fighting the ventilator by abruptly removing the ventilation tube from her throat.
"The door is locked!" someone exclaimed.
"How could that have happened?! Who has the keys to this hall?" another shouted.
Kal forced himself to his feet, his vision swimming with emotion and exhaustion.
The IV lines that had been attached to Lois fell free, and he could feel her awareness scratching to the surface. The sound of a key entering a lock roared in his ears just as he managed to collect himself enough to locate the window.
He shot out and into the sky without a moment to spare.
"Kal! Good heavens, are you alright?" Wells asked as Kal landed heavily not far from the time machine.
He fell to his hands and knees, panting.
"That . . . that was pretty close," he gasped.
"But you did it? She's better and no one saw you?" Wells asked anxiously.
"Yes . . . and no one saw me," he agreed, his breathing still ragged. "But they'll have two mysteries: her recovery and . . . the locked door to her room. Argh, and the window."
"Given the alternatives, that's perfectly acceptable," Wells assured, even as he grew more concerned by Kal's state. "Are you okay?"
"I need sunlight. Get me home," Kal wheezed, climbing into the wicker chair of the time machine.
Wells quickly nodded, turning dials before pulling the lever. "Hold on!"
O o O o O
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