A/N: I would like to thank Queen of the Capes, Ann, Olympe and ClarksGal for their wonderful commments. FDK rocks!!!
I would also like to thank Olympe once again for being an invaluable BR. Take a bow.
Lois’s thoughts are italicised and enclosed by angle brackets (<>)
Asterisks enclose emphasis (**)
TOC Part Six*1997*
Jimmy Olsen entered the morgue of the Daily Planet hesitantly. Today, Mensa had brought up the old speculation that Clark Kent and Superman were the same man. Now, Jimmy knew this wasn’t true, he’d seen Clark and Superman together before, several times, although he could only think of the two press conferences right now. But the interesting part was that neither Lois nor Superman had objected when he’d announced, “It’s the wife!”, although that could have been because he was threatening the lives of both Lois and Clark’s parents. Rationally, he knew that such an idea was absurd, but Mensa had planted that seed of doubt and Jimmy knew he wouldn’t rest easy until he knew the absolute truth. He sighed. He’d been working with Lois and Clark too long.
This was why he was in the stacks at such an ungodly hour. He had exhausted the electronic sources, but there was no way he could do this kind of research without looking in the archives. Stacks and stacks of paper awaited him, because the Daily Planet didn’t keep electronic copies of the paper. He squared his shoulders, ready to start digging, when he spotted something lying on one of the desks, apparently forgotten, a candidate for the lost property box.
Jimmy picked it up and immediately forgot about his research. It looked like some kind of game. The game was rectangular with a square screen at the top, four buttons below the screen and a triangular panel on each side of the screen. The first button, to the far left, showed two triangles, points up, with three dots above them. The second button had one triangle, point down, with a couple of dots below it. The third button looked like the second button turned upside down, so the triangle pointed upwards. The fourth button, to the far right, had a collection of dots and no triangles at all. He ran his fingers over the strange buttons. Then he touched the left side panel and that was when the thing came to life.
Jimmy almost dropped the game in surprise. The screen had lit up and there was a panel showing an unknown man’s face. Below this face was the top of another face, this one female, and very familiar. He pressed the button that looked like an up arrow. The man’s face scrolled up off the screen and the female’s face took its place. There was no doubt about it; that was definitely Lois looking out at him. But why was she in a game? He shook his head and pressed the button to the right that had no arrows on it, thinking it would clear the screen, but Lois’s face lit up and then shrunk into the top right corner. Below the image, a list of names appeared. There was ‘Lois Lane’, of course, ‘Priscilla Rhodes’, ‘Kay Andrews’, ‘Brenda Manning’, but some of the others didn’t have last names at all. Loisette? *Guinevere*?
Jimmy decided to play it safe and picked ‘Lois Lane’. He pressed the ‘Enter’ button again. The list changed to a list of annotated dates and times. Things like ‘Graduated College’, ‘First day at Daily Planet’, ‘Won first Kerth Award’. But the one that caught his attention was right at the bottom of the screen, ‘Asked Clark to White Orchid Ball’. He remembered Lois had used Clark so she wouldn’t have to go stag. He pressed the ‘Enter’ button. Maybe he could play it out differently in this game.
But the game went back to the first screen again. Jimmy frowned. Maybe there was something he hadn’t done right. He scrolled down from the first face again. But Lois wasn’t there. In her place was Clark. Still frowning, he pressed the ‘Enter’ button. His eyes widened. The list of names all had alternatives, ‘Kal El/Clark Kent/Superman’, ‘Charles/The Fox’, and ‘Kevin McCarter/The Lone Rider’. *Arthur*/*Lancelot*? Wow, whoever made this game must have believed all those rumours. He selected ‘Kal El/Clark Kent/Superman’. The list once again changed to annotated dates. The two middle buttons scrolled up and down and the right button had gone back to the main menu before, so... Jimmy scrolled down to ‘Went to White Orchid Ball with Lois’ and rather than pressing ‘Enter’, he pressed the button that had two triangles on it. Once again, the screen returned to the main menu.
“Terrific!” he exclaimed in annoyance. A man appeared from among the stacks, looking startled. “Sorry,” Jimmy apologised. “I didn’t know anyone else was here.” He looked down at the thing in his hand, realising that the face looking out from the screen was the same as the face looking out from the stacks. “This isn’t yours, is it?”
“Oh, my, yes,” the man exclaimed, running forward and practically snatching the device from Jimmy’s hands. His face became concerned. “You didn’t...play with it, did you?”
“Don’t worry,” Jimmy answered, with a grin. “I couldn’t get it to do anything.”
The man ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “What...did...you...do?”
“Here, let me show you.” Jimmy reached for the device.
“No!” the man screamed, but it was too late. The man had been holding the device firmly in one hand, his thumb over one of the side panels. Jimmy’s hand came down on the other side and *his* thumb covered the *other* panel. The device lit up, the screen became an opalescent white, and the ground beneath their feet began to heave.
“Earthquake!” Jimmy quickly let go of the device and braced himself in the archway.
“That was no earthquake,” the man answered, his tone flat. He grabbed Jimmy by the collar. “Now, you are going to tell me *exactly* what you just did.”
***
*1993*
“Jimmy did this?” Lois’s voice had jumped an octave, but she didn’t care.
“And he found out about me?” Clark asked with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair.
“Don’t worry so, my boy,” Mr. Wells said cheerily. “He would have found out eventually, and your friendship didn’t suffer for it. Well, after the initial shock, of course.”
Clark didn’t seem to find that comforting. “Sometimes it’s like everybody knows,” he growled in frustration.
“Eventually they will,” Mr. Wells admitted candidly. That didn’t make Clark feel any better.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Lois said firmly. “Besides, this is 1993. Your *parents* don’t even know yet.” She gave him an infectious grin that Clark couldn’t help but return.
“But why didn’t Jimmy and the mystery guy come with us like you did when you used it?” he asked, his grin fading to a look of puzzlement.
“That’s simply because he pressed the ‘Separation’ button, my boy,” Mr. Wells answered, taking out the Soul Tracer and indicating the leftmost button with the two triangles. “It tells the tracer to take the souls indicated, but leave the controller alone.”
“But why would you want to do that? Surely anyone who went to another body or another time would need a way to come back,” Lois reasoned.
“Yes, but there is a limit on the number of souls the tracer can carry at one time. The inventor wanted to make sure that if a larger group wanted to travel that the device could take as many trips as necessary to accommodate everyone,” Mr. Wells explained.
“Oh, well, I guess that makes sense,” she said doubtfully.
“But imagine that thing getting in the wrong hands,” Clark said, already imagining the damage it could do. “Imagine all the people who could be trapped in an unknown time...”
“...unable to leave, frantic...”
“...the people around them thinking they’d gone mad...”
“...trying who-knows-what to make them remember a past they’ve never lived...”
“Yes,” Mr. Wells interrupted the fabric of woe they were weaving before him. “Well, fortunately, that will never happen because the inventor has decided to destroy the Soul Tracer as soon as I return it. After witnessing what an innocent man could do by accident, he really doesn’t want to see what a man with cruel intentions could do. He was about to destroy all his notes, plans, research when I left.”
“So, why did he let you take it?” Lois asked curiously.
<Surely, if he wanted to destroy it so badly, he would have done so straight away and not let it out of his sight.>“Why, to take you back to 1997, of course,” Mr. Wells answered, as if it was obvious.
“What?” Clark exclaimed.
“Forget it!” Lois announced.
“Uh-uh, no way,” Clark chimed in.
Mr. Wells looked from one determined face to the other. “You mean...you don’t *want* to leave?” The puzzlement in his voice matched the puzzlement on his face.
“Of *course* we don’t want to leave!” Lois stared at Mr. Wells incredulously. “Didn’t we establish that *last* time you were here?”
“Yes, but...you don’t belong in this time-frame. You are endangering history by staying here!” Mr. Wells was fiddling with the Soul Tracer in agitation. Clark quickly took the Soul Tracer from Mr. Wells, just in case he hit the wrong button...accidentally.
“Trust me, Mr. Wells it would be *far* worse if we went back now,” Lois commented dryly. Mr. Wells still looked confused. She rolled her eyes.
<He must be getting old.> “*This* is why we can’t go back...or forward,” Lois said, darting forward to grab the photo off the table and jab a finger at her daughter.
“Exactly,” Clark agreed, looking Mr. Wells in the eye. “Imagine how traumatic it would be for a little girl to suddenly have her parents, both of whom she appears to be *very* close to, turn into *strangers*.”
Lois looked closer at the photo. She may be the one carrying the girl, but Clark was standing so close that she seemed to be trying to hug both her parents at the same time.
“And how would *we* cope? Because of this child, our lives would have been changed dramatically over those four years,” Clark continued. “Neither of us has any experience with raising children. She’d have her own idiosyncrasies, likes, dislikes, allergies, and who knows what else that we could learn only by staying here and watching her grow.”
“And that’s only if we’re still together then,” Lois added, her imagination taking a horrific new turn.
“What do you mean *if*?” Clark asked before Mr. Wells even had a chance to open his mouth.
“Think about it, Clark,” Lois pressed. “We go back and our younger selves are left here with the last twenty-four hours a blank. Because I am alone with you, you will take the blame. I don’t have years of friendship to draw upon to know that you would never do anything remotely close to what I will think you did, so our friendship will end before it’s even begun.”
“I’m sure I’d protest my innocence, claim that I don’t remember anything either, and prove to you from then on just how trustworthy I am,” Clark argued.
“And eventually, I may start to believe you, but at first I guarantee you will be lumped in with the Claude fiasco. We may even start a tentative friendship...that will end the moment I find out that I’m pregnant. I’ll demand a DNA test, the results will prove you to be the father and the friendship will be over. I’d never trust you again. And depending on my state of mind, I may even abort the pregnancy.”
“Lois, you would never...”
“Not now, I wouldn’t,” Lois took him by the arms and looked deep into his eyes. “But back then...I wouldn’t be too sure.”
“And I don’t have my powers at the moment. That didn’t happen the first time until the Smallville Cornfestival. Who knows what my younger self might do. I might not save Prometheus, thinking my powers were gone forever, and Lois might die.”
Mr. Wells took in the scenario with horror. “But that would mean...”
“No Utopia,” Lois and Clark chorused.
Mr. Wells gulped. “I think I need a drink,” he murmured, before suiting the action to the word.
“Good idea,” Lois agreed.
“Oh no,” Clark disagreed, taking the glass out of her hand.
“Clark!”
“Nothing alcoholic,” he admonished.
Lois pouted. Clark looked at her pleadingly, begging her not to use the puppy-dog eyes. She read his expression and ruthlessly brought the puppy-dog eyes into play. He sighed and reached for the phone.
“Hello, room service? Could you please send some non-alcoholic wine up to the honeymoon suite, immediately? Thank you.” He hung up the phone and turned to Lois. “Will that do?”
“I guess so,” she grumped. The non-alcoholic wine was a good idea, but she wasn’t going to tell *him* that. Besides, she would enjoy his attempts at cheering her up.
“So, Mr. Wells,” Clark said, turning to the shaking man. He knew Lois well enough by now to know that she wasn’t *nearly* as upset as she was pretending to be. “Are you *still* intent on taking us back to the future?”
Mr. Wells drained his glass and miserably met him eye to eye. The look said it all.
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