Chapter 2
20 years laterThe obvious statement would be the Planet was never the same after the bombing, but frankly, it was never the same after Clark left. I insisted my desk be nowhere near it’s old location after the newsroom reopened because I couldn’t bear the thought of looking over and seeing someone else at his desk. For weeks I avoided getting coffee at the local café we always went to, instead opting for the sludge Jimmy made in the newsroom, just in case I bumped into him.
At first, I was terrified that if I ran into him on the street I’d burst into tears, or start yelling at him; it varied by minute. Eventually, I stopped watching for him and gradually the edges of my personality he’d softened, hardened again. I learned that life continued on without my best friend.
Initially, I blamed my almost marriage to Lex on Clark’s disappearance. He’d never shown up to the wedding and hadn’t been seen for weeks after. I had wondered if he had left Metropolis to avoid the supposed happy event. When he had surfaced, it wasn’t me he’d talked to. Perry had delivered a letter, short and to the point. Clark was leaving Metropolis for good and wished me the best in the future. There had been no forwarding address, no more declarations of love, no endearments. Just his signature on the bottom.
I’d kept that letter. I would have kept it forever if someone else hadn’t burned it in a fit of jealousy.
It’s funny to think about now, but Clark, the man I claimed to only love as a brother, had inadvertently caused not one, but two marriages to implode before they were official. The first, Lex, I had refused to marry when I had an epiphany that perhaps Clark was more than just a friend. The second, I knew was over when I balked at a big wedding but still tried to go through with the formalities. I’d insisted on a courthouse wedding, only to call it off the night before when Dan had found Clark’s letter. Despite never meeting him, Dan unequivocally hated Clark, and his jealousy helped me realize I could never love him.
Not like Clark.
But I’d friend-zoned Clark, at least that’s what they called it these days. Not sure we had a word for it all those years ago. I’d put my best friend in a neat little box where I believed our friendship was safe and it wouldn’t get messy. There were lines we wouldn’t cross, and then Clark shattered the illusion of being safe when he told me he loved me.
I’d never seen him again after Perry’s retirement party. I had ignored his misgivings, believing his jealousy of my relationship with Lex was clouding his mind. I’d suspected he felt strongly against our relationship for a while, but once he told me he loved me, I presumed his dislike stemmed from his own desires.
I’d been so blind.
The wedding to Lex ended abruptly when I refused to marry him, unable to get the thoughts of Clark out of my mind. Lex, out of character to the man I knew, lost control over himself. I had never seen him that angry and it scared me. He told me I’d regret it and while I’ve heard that a thousand times before, and a few more since, that was the only time I ever believed someone’s threats. I have no doubt Lex was planning some revenge to enact upon the woman who left him at the altar, but I was warned to leave town. It wasn’t long before Henderson’s investigation into the Planet’s bombing, with a lot of help from Perry, caught up to Lex, and to avoid arrest he’d jumped from his penthouse several weeks later. I was in Europe when I heard, and by the time I returned to Metropolis, the Planet had been sold and was being repaired, Perry was returning as editor and I had my old job as an investigative reporter back. Once again partnerless.
A year later I met Dan during an investigation and within a few months we were engaged. My mother was delighted, my father cordial, and me, I just went with it. I knew from the start I could never love Dan, but he seemed happy and it felt like the normal thing to do. I hadn’t realized how wrong he was for me until I ended it.
I stayed with the Planet for a few more years, earning a predictable Kerth each year, never really feeling challenged as I used to with Clark. When Perry finally retired I stuck around for two years before deciding to freelance and try for a Pulitzer. I handed in my notice, arranged for my condo to be leased and learned to live out of a few suitcases, traveling the world looking for the next big story. And so, I became a nomad, a person of no fixed address trying to earn a living. The Pulitzer remained elusive; if anything, it felt further out of reach now. I had a little name recognition and helped subsidize my journalism income with speaking engagements, but I’d lost my spark.
Take-out and loneliness were my constant companions. Lucy joked the lifestyle was perfect for me as I never had to worry about cooking or entertaining, and in that respect she was right. Working as a lone wolf had been preferable for so many years that I was surprised as I struggled to find my equilibrium on my own, away from the Planet and those who I knew. Eventually, it became easier to stay friendless than attempt to get close to someone only for me to leave the area, or to have them come up short compared to Clark.
Out of the blue, I received a call from Jimmy inviting me to his first Kerth Awards Ceremony. I couldn’t refuse – we had remained in constant contact via email, although I wouldn’t consider us close - so I had flown back to the city and now I find myself in the old Lexor hotel, on the same floor as the Honeymoon Suite where Clark and I spent one weekend pretending to be husband and wife. I refocus on trying to remember the name of Jimmy’s wife. Perry is supposed to pick me up shortly as I’m his ‘date’ for the dinner, and I’m hoping he’ll keep me from making a mistake.
At the sharp knock on the door, I grab my coat and purse, double check my lipstick isn’t smudged, and open the door, surprised that Perry is early.
“Hello, my dear.”
“I’m sorry,” I say to the short man wearing what looks like a very old hat. “I think you have the wrong room.”
“No, not at all, Ms. Lane. It is still Ms. Lane, is it not?”
“Yes. Do I know you?” His accent is English and he seems vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him.
“I can explain, though this is best discussed somewhere private rather than the corridor.”
As he spoke, the man stepped into the room, pulling out his pocket watch and checking the time.
“Ok, explain,” I demand as I slip out of my heels in the event I need to use some of my years of martial arts training. It’s not that I can’t kick in heels; I’m just better balanced barefoot. I check my watch and realize there are only a few minutes until Perry arrives so there’ll be an escape from this madman then.
“Ms. Lane. We don’t have a lot of time. If you could change any one decision you’ve made, what would it be?”
That’s an odd question to be asked as a thousand thoughts go through my head. The tattoo I had done a few years back, the wrong turn I’d taken in Italy that resulted in my passport being stolen, breaking my ankle trying to out maneuver a criminal and almost being shot because I couldn’t just pass out from the pain, or the various ridiculous haircuts I’d attempted over the years. Thankfully, none of those bad decisions had been permanent, though there had been a few close calls as my reckless streak had stuck around for a few years. About to answer flippantly, an old memory surfaced. In a room on this floor, I’d kissed a man and felt something I’d denied at the time, but had been subconsciously seeking ever since. Sorrow floods my heart for a moment before I choke it back. If this is a dream it has taken a cruel twist.
“This is not your life, Ms. Lane, but merely a shadow of what it should have been. I am here to take you back in time to fix this timeline and restore it to its proper path.”
“What are you saying?” I focus my attention on the stranger, not wanting to dwell on my thoughts.
“I’m saying, Ms. Lane, that the man you love can be yours.”
“How?” I ask in astonishment, wondering and hoping that we’re talking about the same man. This wouldn’t be Lex’s revenge, twenty years in the making, would it?
The man takes out his watch and looks at it, agitated. “We really must be going, Ms. Lane. Please follow me, I’ll explain on the way.”
He opens the door and peers out before signaling the corridor is clear. I slip my shoes back on, grab my purse and follow him to the stairs before pausing.
“Ms. Lane, please, we do not have much time. He needs your help.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Kent,” the man replies before heading down the stairs.
That name leaves me no choice but to follow.
We travel down the stairs to the parking lot below the lobby, and quickly cross to the exit outside. I’m nervous that he’s bypassed the lobby as there’s not a soul on this level, but he seems more interested in getting to the exit that leads directly outside. Once out in the cool autumn air, I regret not bringing something warmer to cover my shoulders other than the flimsy shawl designed for accent and not for function, but keep following the little man into the alley. After some excessive checking for passerby’s, the man pulls out a small device from his pocket, and begins to fiddle with it, when the space in front of us that was once bags of garbage, distorts and a large sleigh-like object appears in its place. I gasp and the man smiles, seeming delighted by my surprise.
“It kept being stolen,” he said by way of an explanation. “I had to do something to disguise it.”
“What is it?”
“This, Ms. Lane, is my time travel machine.”
“Ah. And what was your name?” If he turns out to be a psychopath, I should know what he calls himself.
“Ah, yes. I forget. We haven’t met before, or at least I haven’t met this version of you. I am H.G. Wells…”
“The writer?” I try to ignore the comment about me being a ‘version’ of myself.
“Yes,” Mr. Wells acknowledges as he climbs onto his machine. “We don’t have much time, Ms. Lane.”
I’m very doubtful this machine will travel anywhere, let alone through time, although I’m bothered by the optical illusion of it being disguised as garbage. I step up and take a seat on what looks like my mother’s old patio furniture, roped down to keep it attached to the base of whatever this is. At least there’s a cushion, I laugh to myself.
“So where exactly are we going?”
“Back. To right a few wrongs,” he answers as he fiddles with a few dials. He feeds what looks like gold into the machine and places his hand on the main lever. “Ms. Lane, I’m taking you back to correct your timeline but there’s one thing you need to be aware of. If you change your timeline, you will cease to exist.”
“Excuse me?” Is he saying I’ll die? I did not sign up for this.
“You exist in this timeline based on the choices you’ve made. If we return to your past and make changes, you, the Lois Lane you are today, will not exist.”
“But you said it was Clark that needed my help?”
“Indeed. I’m sorry, Ms. Lane. I cannot say more as I cannot influence your future decisions.”
“Yet it’s ok to take me out of my life, tell me that I’ll never come back, and will cease to exist?”
“I am aware I am asking a great deal of you, especially when you do not know the outcome.”
“And you do?”
His nod and smile reassures me more than it should. Why am I giving this man the time of day? He’s clearly a case for the psychiatric hospital but on some level, I find myself trusting him.
“And if I do nothing?”
“Once we leave, I will not be able to return you to this moment. If we travel back in time and you choose to do nothing, you, the Lois Lane I am speaking to, will cease to exist. The Lois in the other timeline will exist and without anything to change your decisions, this path of your life will continue. At this moment you will be awaiting your former editor’s arrival at your hotel room, and I will not be here to interrupt.”
“Something like a bad dream then?” The idea of ceasing to exist isn’t computing.
“Quite,” he responds as his hand hovers on the lever.
I realize he’s waiting for me to consent and I quickly consider my options. It takes me one beat of my heart to realize that I would do anything to help Clark, anything to correct whatever had gone wrong, and I nod before I change my mind.
“Yes, let’s go,” I say far more confidently than I feel.
****
I feel unsteady on my feet as I exit the alley onto the main road, Mr. Wells a few steps behind me. I blink into the bright midday sun, unnerving as it had been twilight a few seconds ago, and stare in disbelief at the cars driving by, many of the models I hadn’t seen in years.
“How did you do it?” I ask as he approaches.
“Many years of research, and pure gold,” he answers.
“Is this an illusion of some sort? Are we on a movie set?”
He chuckles and adjusts his hat. “No, Ms. Lane. Though if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you where we are in time.”
We’re in an older part of Metropolis as I recognize many of the stately buildings, built to stand for a hundred or so years, and as I follow this curious man, I realize we’re heading to the Planet. About to let him know I’ve figured it out, I gasp as I see the building.
“Oh, I’m sorry, my dear. I should have warned you.”
The normally busy plaza in front of the building is far quieter than ever, and the boarded up windows tell the story.
“You brought me back to when the Planet was destroyed?” I ask, wondering what the point would be. How could I help Clark here?
“A little further, Ms. Lane. It will become clear exactly where we are in your past shortly.”
“Do we have time to stop for a sandwich? Coffee?” I should be eating a swanky dinner right now, not chasing around after a long dead author. Even if this is some strange dream, I’m hungry.
“I’m sorry, but we must hurry.”
“Are we late for something?” I inquire as we dodge traffic to cross the road.
“Almost. We must get there first.”
As I look around, everything seems more than merely vaguely familiar, and there’s a knot in my stomach that I’m afraid to unravel. I don’t ask any more questions as we enter the park as I remember the last time I was here.
He stops behind some dense shrubbery and holds up a finger to his lips. “I’ll explain it all later, Ms. Lane, but for now, please listen.”
As he’s whispering, I spot the younger version of myself approaching. There’s an overwhelming moment of grief as I see Clark with the younger me, followed by relief.
“This will be easy,” I whisper to Wells. “You’ve brought me back to the perfect time. I just have to-”
“No, Ms. Lane,” Wells sputters urgently.
“What do you mean, ‘no?’”
“Please, keep your voice low. You can not be seen by yourself!”
He is more agitated than I’ve seen so far, and I comply mostly out of surprise. He’s right. I can hardly go barging up to myself and interrupt; I’d think I was mad!
“Ok, so I need a plan.”
“Yes,” he agrees quickly. “You must know, you cannot be recognized. Yourself, Mr. Kent, anyone who knows you cannot be allowed to conclude there is more than one Ms. Lane, certainly not a second one who is interfering.”
“What would happen?” I’m curious.
“How would you react if you learned a future version of yourself was trying to change your timeline, your life? The best scenario is you would think you were dreaming.”
He’s got a legitimate point, I agree begrudgingly. I’d assume it was a joke at first, or some criminal element trying to mess with me. But then I’d likely think I was having a nervous breakdown or, worse, that I’d been cloned.
“You said Clark needs my help. Does this have anything to do with why Clark wasn’t at my wedding and vanished afterwards?”
He doesn’t answer, but clears his throat. I take that as a yes.
“Any insight on how I’m supposed to help Clark when I can’t be seen, and don’t know what exactly he needs help with?”
“Ms. Lane, you will figure it out, but I warn you, it will not be a quick task.”
“How, and how long?” I’m asking but my focus is on the scene unfolding in front of me. Clark has just bared his soul to me and I’m about to ask him to contact Superman. My stomach twists at the memory of that horrible conversation in my apartment, which was the last time I’d talked to the hero in a one on one setting. I would spend the next few weeks with Lex, trying to get used to my new office job, burying myself into my new life to try and forget what I was leaving behind. Why wouldn’t Wells let me fix this moment? I could easily change the course of my life right now.
Wells has been speaking while I’ve been churning through my memories. I do hear him suggest I find a place to stay, but then only catch the last bit of his instructions.
“...but you’ll know. When you are on the right track, and at the right moment, it will be undeniable.”
“And that moment isn’t now,” I clarify as I watch Clark walk away from the park bench, and out of sight.
I don’t hear Mr. Wells answering and I turn to look, but he’s no longer at my side. I call out his name as loudly as I dare, while watching the younger version of me taking a different path than Clark’s out of the park.
“Wells? Where are you? This isn’t funny.” Even though I keep calling out for him, I know he’s gone and I’ve been left with my task; to help Clark.
****
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