Previously...Meanwhile...----------
Her Story: Part TwoAt least Dr. Mulligan had been eager to help when they returned to the institute. She and Bruce had a lot of new information by the time they stepped back out into the morning sun: John Doe was reportedly obsessed with science fiction, particularly time travel and the works of H.G. Wells. His fixation was so intense that the psychiatrists had never been able to get the truth of his past from him, only an elaborate fantasy about living in the distant future and traveling in Wells' fictional machine. Doe was also obsessed with Superman and the reporters Clark Kent and Lois Lane.
They paused on the freshly-salted walkway outside the gates, and Claire turned to Bruce. “So, I guess Lois is our next lead?”
“Unless you want to hold a séance so we can talk to a dead 19th century author.” Bruce ran his eyes over her, then shook his head. “Then again, my sense of what's impossible has been changing, recently; I probably shouldn't be surprised if he *does* turn up.”
**********
They landed in the backyard of a two-story brownstone, boots crunching on the snow . This was allegedly the house where Clark Kent, a man with an incredibly big secret, lived with his wife Lois Lane, the reporter who thrived on exposing big secrets. The high privacy fence surrounding them lent more credence to the idea, but it still went against everything Claire remembered of the woman.
Inside, Lois's voice was speaking animatedly to someone. She passed in front of a large window, clutching a phone to her ear. “—but there hasn't been anything on the news, so I don't...” Lois stilled and stared out the window, straight at them. “Martha, he just came back! I'll have him call you.”
Claire's eyebrows rose.
The back door flew open, and Lois ran out into the snow. She stopped just in front of them, every muscle tense, and a hand that had been reaching towards Claire now flexed awkwardly and dropped to her side. “Superman! What's—uh—what's going on?” Her eyes flicked to Bruce.
Bruce stepped forward. “We need information about John Doe. I understand you and your husband have encountered him before?”
“You *both* need information?” Lois furrowed her brow, looking at Claire again.
Claire cleared her throat. “Um, yes. Do you know much about his obsession with time travel and...uh...alternate universes?”
Lois stared at them for a while, then closed her eyes and groaned. “Oh, great! Not again!”
Bruce and Claire exchanged a look.
Lois sighed. “Come on; we can talk about this inside.”
**********
The three sat around the table in a bright, cozy kitchen. Lois leaned back in her chair, one hand curled around a cup of hot cocoa while the other rubbed her forehead. “Okay, where to start... John Doe's real name is Tempus. He likes violence and mayhem, and he desperately wants to prevent Superman's descendants from bringing about a peaceful future called 'Utopia'. Clark and I first met him two years before we got married.”
Claire lowered her own cocoa and blinked in surprise. “So you *are* married, then!” At Lois's confused expression, Claire's cheeks began to feel warm. “I just...wondered. Based on what I thought I knew about the Lois Lane of my world, it didn't seem possible.”
Lois brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled sheepishly into her cup. “Well, it was a long, rocky road to get to that point, I'll admit. After our first real date, I slammed the door in his face.”
“Date went poorly?” Claire sipped her drink.
Lois shook her head. “No, date went too well. I realize that probably doesn't make any sense...”
“It does.” Bruce shifted in his chair, apparently studying the far wall.
Claire sighed. “I must have a type.”
Lois met Claire's eyes again, her cup half raised to her lips. “Do you mind if I ask what things are like in your universe?”
Claire smiled ruefully. “Well, I know I don't look like it right now, but back in my universe, I'm a woman. My husband and I have been married for just over a year. When I found myself...well...” She waved a hand down her torso. “...like this, I thought I was still in my own world, so I went to him for help—or at least, the man I thought was him.”
Lois's eyes widened and flicked to Bruce. “You.”
He gave a non-committal grunt.
Lois smiled down into her cocoa. “That's a lot like what I did back when Tempus tried to strand me in another universe. I found that world's Clark Kent, and we ended up helping each other.” She took a sip and then paused, a frown creasing her forehead. Her gaze snapped back to Bruce. “She told you everything, didn't she?”
Bruce gave another non-committal grunt.
Claire's cheeks felt warm again. “Sorry. If anything, I thought it was *you* who couldn't know the truth about Superwo—ah, Superman.”
Lois stared at her with an unreadable expression. “So you trust Batman?”
“With my life.” Claire met her gaze, unflinching.
Her eyes trailed over Bruce, narrowing as they lingered on the mask.
He met her scrutiny with a cool and even stare. “How did you get back from the other world?”
Lois blew out a breath, suddenly fascinated with her cocoa. “Well, what's one more stop on the way to Crazytown? I got help from H.G. Wells.”
Bruce was silent for a moment. “You mean...his books?”
She shook her head. “No. I mean the real, live man with a real, working time machine. He's kind of a self-appointed guardian of that future Clark and I are supposed to create.”
“Of course.” Bruce's face became expressionless beneath the cowl.
“He usually shows up whenever there's a problem in the time-line that needs fixing.” Lois frowned. “Actually, I'm surprised he hasn't been in touch, yet.”
Claire thought for a moment. “Is there a way we can contact him?”
Lois's fingers tapped against the side of her cup. “Well, he's a time-traveller; if we leave a message somewhere he could find it, he should be able to show up at any time no matter when he leaves from.” She paused, closed her eyes, and rubbed her head again. “...I hate time travel.”
“Let's do that, then.” Bruce studied the table for a moment, his chin resting on a gloved fist. “There's a time-capsule getting buried in Gotham Square Park on New Year's Eve. Anything in it is likely to get noticed by people interested in history.”
Lois nodded. “I'll write the note, then.” She fetched a notepad and pen from a nearby drawer and began writing. After several moments of scribbling, she looked up. “How will we get it into the capsule?”
“I'll take care of that.” Bruce held out his hand.
As soon as Lois placed the folded paper in his glove, the air began to tingle. There was a soft rap at the kitchen door. Lois bolted to her feet and answered it, revealing a small, Elderly gentleman in a waistcoat and bowler hat. Behind him, some kind of sleigh was now parked in the snow-covered yard, right across the trail of footprints they had left.
Lois smiled and held the door wider, stepping out of the way. “Mr. Wells! For once, I'm really glad to see you!”
The little man smiled and tipped his had to her as he entered. “Best of the season to you, Mrs. Kent.” He nodded at Claire. “Superman.” When he turned to Bruce, his eyebrows rose. “The Batman? My goodness, I hadn't expected your path to cross with theirs for years, yet!”
“We have a situation, Mr. Wells.” Lois pulled a chair out for him at the table.
As Wells sat down, he held up a yellowed version of the note Lois had just written. “So I infer. Tempus, again?”
She nodded. “Again. Though I should probably start by explaining that this isn't Superman.” She motioned to Claire.
Wells stared at Claire curiously.
Claire returned to her seat, brushing her cape aside and crossing her boots at the ankles. “In my universe, I'm Super*woman*.”
Wells' eyebrows raced to the brim of his hat. “Good heavens! That does quite explain a few things...” He turned to Lois and grimaced. “My apologies for not detecting this latest upset. The truth is, I did notice a few changes to Utopia's history, but the effect was so negligible and the cause so obscured that I took it to be a mere instance of what some call a 'quantum wobble'.”
“A wobble?” Lois dropped back into her chair and glared across the table at Wells. “You're telling me that having Superman completely disappear only caused history to *wobble*?!”
He held up a finger. “Ah, but Superman has not disappeared; merely been replaced.” He turned to Claire. “Tell us, Madam: could you sit by and do nothing if the good citizens of this world were in danger, even though this universe is not your own?”
Claire shook her head. “Of course not!”
His smile was knowing. “Quite right. And how would you respond to the knowledge that a child would soon be born whose closest match to a father is you?”
Lois flushed, and her voice lowered. “Clark doesn't know yet.”
Wells kept his eyes on Claire.
Claire took a deep breath, thinking it over. “Well, I guess...we'd have to work something out. I know the kid wouldn't be able to understand the truth for a long time, but...I don't want to live a lie. I'm sorry.” She shook her head. “There's no way I could pretend to be someone's dad. Other than that, though, I'd still want to help in any way I can.”
Wells turned back to Lois with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “And there you have it. Superman remains in the sky, his child is raised as well as can be expected, and Utopia eventually comes to pass.”
Lois threw her hands up in the air. “So then, Tempus swapped them for nothing!”
“From his perspective, yes,” said Wells. “You see, my dear, Utopia is founded on the ideals of selflessness and always trying one's best to do good; ideals that Tempus cannot internalize.” He pulled out a pocket-watch and studied it with a grim expression. “Unfortunately, while his latest gambit has failed in the grander scheme, it may have succeeded on a more personal level. There are infinite timelines, and we have no way of knowing which one holds Mr. Kent.”
Claire sat straighter in her chair and folded her arms. “No, Tempus did not win. Some way or another, either my husband will find me or I will find my way back to him. That's just how things are with us.”
Lois crossed her own arms also and stared at Wells. “It's the same with me and Clark. Neither of us will give up until we've come back to each other! So if there's two on that world trying to find this one, and two here working to find the other—”
“Three.” Bruce stepped forward from the corner he'd been lurking in and rested a hand on Lois's shoulder. She looked up at him with a little start, and he met her eyes. “I have...resources. I'll do whatever I can to bring your husband back to his family.” He shifted his gaze to Claire. “And I will do whatever it takes to send you home to yours.”
Claire blinked back the forming tears. “Thank you!”
Lois grinned at Wells. “So, I'd say the universe doesn't stand a chance!”
A soft beeping from Wells's pocket interrupted the moment. He drew out a small device, stared at it, and his eyebrows suddenly rose to meet his hat. “Good heavens! Is that...?”
“Is that what?” Lois's grin gave way to a look of impatience.
He gaped at her. “The tracking beacon Utopia's peace keepers placed on Tempus at his last incarceration! Quite naturally, it stopped transmitting shortly after his escape; doubtless found and destroyed. But somehow, it's now transmitting again!”
A thrill rushed along Claire's spine. “So we can find him, then!”
Bruce held up a hand. “Not so fast: it could be a trap. Why else would a man who made a clean get-away suddenly give up his position?”
Lois rose to her feet. “Well, there's one obvious way to find out. Mr. Wells, let's go!” She darted to the kitchen door, flung it open, and headed straight for the time machine.
Beneath the cowl, Bruce's eye twitched.
Claire shrugged apologetically and pushed her chair back from the table. “It's how she works. It used to drive me nuts back when I worked at the Planet, but I've got to say, it always got results.”
“This explains so much,” Bruce muttered as he followed her out the door with Wells close behind.
**********
The world dissolved in a swirl of color as the machine lurched in a direction that didn't exist. Claire's hand automatically found Bruce's. He tensed a moment, then reached over and patted it. The light surrounding them slowly coalesced again into shapes and figures, and finally, they found themselves inside a very familiar barn.
The steady beeping from the tracking beacon Wells carried suddenly developed an echo somewhere in the room. At the far end, the man from the storage closet was barely recognizable beneath his bruises and had been thoroughly tied up with rope. A short distance away, at the source of the echo, three people stood staring in their direction: Lois, Bruce, and a woman whose features Claire recognized. “You!”
“You!” They spoke at the same and raced towards each other, meeting halfway. “You're in—”
“—My body!” They turned to the elderly gentleman dismounting the machine. “Mr. Wells—”
“—change us back!”
Wells held up a placating hand; the other gripped another strange-looking device. “Quite right, quite right. Now, do hold still; this won't take but a moment...” He fiddled with a few dials. “Let's see now...there.”
Space bent and shifted around Claire. When it stopped, she was a bit shorter and standing next to a dark-haired man. She looked down at herself, feeling to make sure she was really back in her own skin, and was dimly aware of the man doing the same. Claire shut her eyes a moment, listening: when she heard the faint flutter in her womb, she breathed a sigh of relief. “It worked! I'm—”
“—me again! Lois!”
“Bruce!” At the speed of thought, she was in her husband's tight embrace, his arms holding her fast against his chest and his mouth crushing down on hers. A long time later, she pulled her lips a breath away from his. “I missed you so much.”
He dropped a kiss onto her hair. “I missed you, too.” His eyes conveyed so much more than his words could ever manage. They would make time for all the things that remained unsaid, but this moment in a crowded barn was not the right one. So, in an unspoken agreement, each slipped an arm around the other and they headed over to the other couple.
Claire reached her free-hand out to shake the man's hand. “Um, hi. I'm Claire Wayne.”
“Clark Kent.” He returned the shake while keeping an arm around the alternate Lois. “It's nice to finally meet you. Your husband is...full of surprises.”
Claire smiled at the woman. “And so is your wife.” She turned towards her own world's Lois Lane, standing alone in a corner of the barn. “I...owe you an apology, Lois. And probably a few explanations. Is it all right if we talk, later?”
Her old partner shrugged. “Well, I suppose I can spare a few minutes for the jobless trophy wife.” A smile told Claire that the barb had only been meant as a joke. “Sure, we can talk.”
“Thanks.” Claire scanned the room for the other Bruce and found the big goof trying to blend into a patch of shadows in the corner. “As for you...” She sped to him and pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you for everything!”
He awkwardly returned the hug. “Um, you're welcome.”
Her husband's steady heartbeat grew louder as he approached from behind her. “Hello.”
“Hello.” The other Bruce looked hers over.
Her Bruce slipped an arm around her again and put a hand forward. “Thank you.”
The other Bruce nodded once and accepted the shake.
Before releasing his hand, her husband leaned closer to his counterpart and lowered his voice. “Take risks.”
His counterpart stared at him.
“I can only infer what your life is like...” He swept his gaze over the famous costume. “But in case you're like me: don't try to go it alone. Gamble on friendships, partnerships.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “And if you ever get an opportunity to have Martha Kent in your life, take it!”
**********
As the old song lyric proclaimed: for the holidays, you can't beat home-sweet-home. Claire sighed contentedly as she curled up on the couch, her head on Bruce's shoulder and her hands cradling a cup of eggnog. A jar of her mom's homemade sweet pickles rested on the coffee table; it wasn't quite the traditional Christmas snack, but something about the smell of gingerbread put her off anymore. She reached for a pickle, dunked it in the eggnog, and savored a creamy, crunchy bite.
In the easy-chair across from them, Lois looked up from her own eggnog and visibly gagged. “How can you eat those together?!”
She grinned and dunked it again. “Happily, now that I don't have to worry about hiding clues from a detective anymore!”
Bruce chuckled and took a sip from his brand new mug.
Just then, her dad poked his head into the room. “You kids might not believe this, but there's a sleigh outside!”
Lois smirked. “Are reindeer pulling it?”
“No.” Her dad frowned. “In fact, nothing seems to be pulling it at all, so I'm not sure how it got here. There's a man inside who looks like some kind of historical re-enactor.”
Pickles forgotten, Claire leapt to her feet and followed her dad out onto the porch with Bruce and Lois tagging close behind. Her mom already stood at the railing, watching an approaching figure. Sure enough, it was an elderly man in a bowler hat. Claire lit up. “Mr. Wells!”
H.G. Wells tipped his hat. “Season's greetings to you all! I do hope I'm not intruding?”
Her mom pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and reached out to shake his hand. “Not at all, Mister...Wells, was it?”
He nodded. “Yes, Madam: H.G. Wells.”
A confused frown knitted her mom's forehead. “Wait—H.G. Wells? The writer?”
“Quite.” The corner of his mouth twitched.
Her dad stared at the newcomer. “The *dead* writer?”
“Sometimes.” He gave a slight shrug, then turned to address Claire. “I took the liberty of storing this world's coordinates in my machine so as to check on its future, and I thought, in the spirit of Christmas, that some 'good tidings' might be in order.”
Claire relaxed against Bruce's side as his arm came up around her. “Back in the other world, you said that Tempus didn't ruin its future. Is that true for here, too?”
The time-traveler's eyes sparkled. “Even better, Madam: the repairs to the damage have left both universes in a better state than before!” He dipped his head at Lois. “Ms. Lane, your renewed friendship with Mrs. Wayne here is an asset to both of you, the importance of which I cannot overstate.” He turned to Bruce. “And of course, in my own universe, years of mistrust between Superman and the Batman have now been completely elided. Their alliance not only accelerated the creation of Utopia, but made it remarkably stronger.” Wells grinned. “I cannot fully express my delight upon showing Tempus the future he helped bring about. I daresay, seeing what his own hand has wrought may do more to rehabilitate him than all the efforts of purer souls!”
A deep laugh rumbled in Bruce's chest. “Well, I won't hold my breath on that, but it serves him right.”
“Indeed.” Wells smiled. “I may look in on this world from time to time, if that suits you all. In the meantime, a merry Christmas to all of you!”
_And A Happy New Year_
