PREVIOUSLY FROM THE TIME TRAVELER’S WIFE
Lois was exhausted. Totally, completely and utterly exhausted. What had ever possessed her to schedule three early morning classes back to back?
No. She knew what had lead to that decision. She’d wanted to keep her afternoons free to pursue stories.
But today, it had been almost too much. She needed to get back to the dorm. To take a nap before she turned to the problem of recreating her story. Oh, darn. She’d forgotten. She was supposed to go this afternoon to help Molly and the others prepare for the party. Maybe she’d call and see if she could come in a bit later so that she could have a nap first. Otherwise, there was no way she was going to make it through tonight’s party. And given the number of sorority events she’d missed lately, she could hardly skip this party, too.
Passing by a newspaper dispenser for the Ink and Quill, she absently picked up the latest edition. Yawning, she looked at the front page.
Suddenly, she was wide awake.
AND NOW...
“I found my story!”
Molly was in the kitchen at the sorority house, cutting up some cheese for the party - only one of a number of people at the house who were preparing for the party. In fact, a number of Beta Beta boys were in the main room putting up decorations.
Molly looked up, smiling when she saw her friend. “Hey, that’s great. I was going to see what I could do tomorrow to find it for you. I was thinking that there might be another way to...” she began, her voice trailing off when she saw the storm clouds hovering over Lois. “Where did you find it?” she asked cautiously.
“Right here!” Lois said, tossing the Ink and Quill on the table and stabbing it with her index finger.
“So you found it in time to get it submitted?” Molly asked, still not understanding the problem. That thought, however, was pushed aside when she read the headline. “Football Players Not Writing Own Exams: Coach Also Implicated. Hey that’s quite a headline. Is it really true?”
“Of course it’s true,” Lois said indignantly. “But that’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
Lois jabbed again at the paper, focusing Molly’s attention back on the copy. “By Linda King...”
“How...? Wait a minute. Linda printed your story off the computer and then submitted it to the paper as her own work?” Molly picked up the paper to study it, as if in it she could find proof that one sorority sister would not have done such a thing to another. She didn’t want to believe it was possible. Please let there be another explanation. “Isn’t it possible that she just came across the same story as you? How do you say that now? Scooped? Isn’t it possible Linda just scooped you?” Still, there was the story that Lois had been looking for last night, the one that had been deliberately copied over so...
“This isn’t a similar story, Mol. This is my story. Word for word!”
“How did she know you were working on that story, that it was even on the computer? I mean, I didn’t know until you came to me last night. And even then, I didn’t know what the story was about. Did you tell her?”
“Linda came in just as I was finishing the story. I knew she knew something was up, but it never occurred to me... She saw me save the story before I left to interview one final source. She must have gone on the computer after I left and got the story. Then she went to my room in the doom and trashed it to find my supporting evidence. She took everything to Paul at the Ink and Quill and he published it!”
“Would she have known enough about computers to make sure that I couldn’t retrieve it? I’ve never even seen her use that computer. And, trust me, that job of erasing your story... Whoever did it knew what they were doing.”
That stumped Lois for a minute. “I don’t know. Maybe she got some help or... Hey, wait a minute. She told me once that she had her own computer at home. Would making my story completely disappear be really difficult?”
“Not if she knew what she was doing,” Molly conceded. “Still, are you sure...”
“Yes, I’m sure! Word for word, Mol! She didn’t even bother to take the time to rewrite it.”
“Well, isn’t there something you can do about it? Go to your editor, maybe, and...”
“Where do you think I’ve been! I went to talk to Paul all right. And do you want to know what he said?” The question was obviously rhetorical because she didn’t even pause before continuing. “That I shouldn’t make accusations I couldn’t prove. He didn’t believe me. Said I was just making it up because I was jealous of Linda’s story. And then Linda came in and... She announced that Paul was going to be her date at the party tonight! Then she winked at me! She winked at me and added that after the party, maybe they’d go back to the dorm to do a tour of her room!”
“Did Paul see her wink at you? That might have made him wonder if...”
“Paul didn’t see anything. Well, except for how high the slit in her skirt went or how low her neckline plunged! And do you want to know what happened then? I told him I could prove it was my story. I told him I had done one more interview. And he said... He said... He said that if I had found any additional information about the scandal, I should give it to Linda since it was her story!”
“So did you give her the interview?”
“Absolutely not! I just stormed out of there. Didn’t even look back. That was my story, Mol. I was the one who dug up all the evidence that the football players weren’t writing their own exams. I was the one who found the proof of Coach Black’s involvement.”
“Wait a minute!” said a new voice, entering the conversation for the first time.
Lois spun around. She’d been so engrossed in her rant that she had forgotten about the others in the kitchen who were, now that she took time to notice, watching and listening with rapt attention.
Her eyes focused on the young man who had just spoken. Ryan Wiley. Not exactly her favorite person. Something about him just rubbed her the wrong way.
“You’re the one who dug up the evidence that the football players weren’t writing their own exams?” Ryan asked.
“That’s right,” Lois responded.
“How could you do that?” Ryan continued.
“Excuse me?” Lois said, suddenly and quite unexpectedly thrown into defensive mode.
“That was the best team we ever had! We had a real shot at winning the Sugar Bowl! And now, thanks to you sticking your big nose in where it doesn’t belong, all our best players will likely be thrown out of school - including Don Landover. How do you expect us to win without him?”
“I don’t! All they had to do was write their own exams and they wouldn’t be in this mess now. It’s hardly my fault they decided to cheat!”
“Don’t you have any school spirit at all? A bunch of us already have our tickets to go to New Orleans for the Sugar Bowl in January. What are we supposed to do now?”
“Enjoy Mardi Gras?” Lois asked sarcastically.
“Mardi Gras is more like spring break! Not new years!” Ryan responded. “What are you expecting us to do? Hang around New Orleans until then.”
Lois rolled her eyes. “I guess you missed my sarcasm. But hey, if you’re gone until after spring break, it’s not going to bother me. Might be worth your while. Trading beads to get some woman to flash her breasts at you is probably as close as you’ll get to sex in your lifetime!”
“The ice queen is giving me advice on...”
“Hey, come on, guys!” Molly interrupted, jumping between Lois and Ryan to distract Ryan from finishing his comment. “Can we calm it down here?” she begged, looking from one to the other. “We’re attracting an audience.”
Lois glanced around, noticing that their yelling seemed to have brought everyone in the house helping with preparations into the kitchen. And considering the party preparations, that as quite a crowd. Alpha Nu Rho girls and Beta Beta guys, even significant others who’d been cajoled into helping, many of whom Lois didn’t even know.
“Hey,” Ryan said. “Good. Then everyone can give their opinion. Lois here apparently was the one who uncovered the fact that the football team wasn’t taking their own exams. Shall we give her a big round of applause for ruining our chances of winning the Sugar Bowl?”
“Knock it off, Rye,” Molly said.
Rye? Lois glanced over at Molly. When had Molly become familiar enough with this neanderthal to call him by a nickname?
“That was you?” asked one of the other young men in the crowd. “I thought it was that Linda King chick. A lot of people are going to be furious with you when they find out that you’re the one who demolished the greatest football team this university has ever seen.”
Suddenly, it was all too much for Lois. Without another word, her head still held high, she turned and stalked from the room.
* * * * * * * * *
September 1976
* * * * * * * * *
Clark stepped out of the machine and looked around. So far so good. He’d set the destination to end up in an almost always deserted alley behind the Daily Planet. And deserted it was. So now he just had to make sure he had gone back in time. He grabbed one of the duffle bags and rustled through it until he found a tarp he’d thrown in for just this purpose. After taking a moment to cover the machine, he walked out of the alley and looked around.
Something seemed... odd. But it took him a moment to realize what it was. The cars were too big, too classic looking. Gone were the small, compact machines that graced the streets of the Metropolis in 1997. It was as if someone had decided to have a classic car convention right in the middle of downtown Metropolis. But surely that wasn’t right. Even if there were a classic car convention in town, surely there would be signs of the small, fuel efficient cars and large, tank-like SUVs that tended to dominate the landscape in the Metropolis he knew. And four years was hardly enough time to change all the cars to classics.
Before he could ponder the problem further, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold. A child’s screech. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was about the sound that cut through all the other noises of the big city or that sent terror through his heart. After all, the cry wasn’t pain or fear, exactly. More like surprise. But less than a second after hearing that sound, he was in the air, streaking through the skies towards the source, absolutely petrified of failing.
Spotting the falling child, he dove, catching her in his arms before she could hit the hard ground below and breathing a sigh of relief as he floated slowly up.
His heart finally beating again, he looked at the young girl who was staring at him in disbelief, a camera grasped firmly in her hand. It was only then that he realized he wasn’t in the Superman suit. He hadn’t even brought it with him. After all, there was no Superman in the past. And since he wasn’t allowed to make any significant changes, he’d thought it better to leave the suit at home.
But he had made a change. Potentially a big one. He’d just saved a child from possibly dying. Not that he’d undo what he’d done, but it did drive home the point of just how careful he needed to be.
“What are you?” the child asked, breaking through Clark’s thoughts. “Are you my guardian angel?”
Clark smiled. “Something like that.” He slowly floated them to the ground.
“Then you’ve got to help! They’re burying a body!”
“Who?”
“The mobsters!”
Clark glanced in the direction she was pointing, rebuking himself for not considering that others might have seen what he had done. But he’d been too caught up in his own thoughts. He let out a breath of relief when he realized that the view to the young men digging a hole was partially blocked by foliage, meaning they hadn’t seen him fly. In fact, they looked awfully young to be mobsters.
“A body?” he asked as he lowered his precious cargo to the ground.
“They’re burying a body. We’ve got to get the evidence and...”
Clark turned back to the young men, lowering his glasses to take a closer look at the scene. And smiled.
“Come on,” he said, taking a step towards the diggers.
“No! They’ll kill you!”
He was stopped when she grabbed onto the sleeve of his leather jacket.
He turned back, squatting down to look her in the eye. “I’m invulnerable. They can’t hurt me. So just stay behind me and you’ll be fine.”
She looked slightly skeptical, but after a moment slowly nodded.
He smiled. He had to admit, he liked this kid. “Okay.” He rose to his feet and turned to push his way through the foliage.
“So... what’s going on here?” he asked the two teenage boys, trying to sound stern enough to satisfy the child behind him that he was taking her concerns seriously without frightening the young men he was addressing.
They stopped digging, turning towards the new arrivals. “We’re digging a fire pit for the party tonight.”
“They are not! They’re burying a body!” exclaimed a little voice behind him.
“What’s in the bag?” he asked. He already knew, of course, having x-rayed it the moment the girl had mentioned a body.
“A tent,” one of the boys said in confusion. He dropped his shovel and knelt next to the bag, opening it to reveal its contents.
They stood there for a moment, all looking at the poles and canvas that made up a tent. Suddenly, the girl slipped past Clark to examine the contents of the bag for herself. He watched, amused, at how thorough she was. She’d obviously been convinced that there was a body in that bag.
“How about I take you home?” he asked.
She looked at him and then at the boys for a moment and he could swear he could see the wheels turning inside her head as she worked through the evidence for herself. Finally, she nodded. When Clark reached towards her, she put her hand in his and allowed him to lead her away.
“I guess I was wrong, huh?” she said, practically bouncing along beside him, obviously not too upset about being wrong.
“I guess so. So what’s got you so happy - given that you were wrong.”
“No one’s dead. And... Well, I might have been wrong, but what a great afternoon! I met my guardian angel and I solved the case of the mysterious black bag. I wish I could do this every day.”
“Maybe you should become an investigative journalist when you grow up and then you can.”
“What’s an invest... invester... what’s that?”
“A reporter.” When she continued to stare at him blankly, he continued. “Never mind. So what’s your name?”
“Lois Lane.”
He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her. She stared right back. “Lois Lane?” He knew the words came out slightly strangled, but he couldn’t seem to help it. This precocious child was the one great love of his life? No wonder the cars had been so big. He must have accidentally come back before the oil crisis had changed cars forever. “How old are you?”
“Nine,” she responded, her chin jilting slightly upwards as if waiting for him to admonish her that a nine year old child shouldn’t be tracking suspected mobsters through the woods. It wasn’t until he, not saying a word, resumed walking along the path that she seemed to relax, catching up to him and taking his hand once again.
“What’s your name?” she asked after a moment.
“Uhh... Guardian angels don’t have names.”
“Sure they do. Otherwise, how could you ever get together?”
“What?” Clark asked.
Lois let out a breath of frustration at his apparent lack of understanding. “If you were at a barbeque for guardian angels and you said, ‘Pass me the ketchup, Guardian Angel,’ all the guardian angels would pick up their ketchup bottles and try to hand them to you. Or if you were living in a house with a bunch of other guardian angels and someone called on the phone, how would you know who they wanted to talk to? So you must have names. Otherwise you could never get together. It would be too frustrating.”
Clark’s head was spinning. He had to be very careful here. Had to avoid changing the future. And being questioned by this particular child had all the earmarks for a major change to the future. He wasn’t sure how, but if anyone could cause serious changes to the future, it was Lois Lane - even one who was nine years old.
“Do you know your own way home?” he asked.
When she nodded, he took to the sky, disappearing as fast as his powers would let him, trembling as the force of the encounter finally hit him. He thought he heard a click and a zzzt sound behind him but didn’t turn to look.
He’d come too far back in time. So... Without thinking further, he sped back to where he’d left the time machine. Something had obviously gone wrong.
* * * * * * * * *
November 1987
* * * * * * * * *
Lois dragged herself back to her room, all the energy gone from her step. Sleep. What she needed now was just to crawl into bed and sleep. She couldn’t think, couldn’t figure out her next move until she’d had a little shut eye.
She pulled out her key and inserted it in the lock almost without thinking. When she’d completed that task, she opened the door and stared in dismay at her room. Her completely trashed room.
Oh, right. She’d forgotten about that.
Stepping inside, she closed the door behind her and stared around in dismay. Well, the police weren’t coming to dust for prints or collect DNA samples. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t know who had done this, so there wasn’t really any point in leaving things as they were. On the other hand, she also didn’t have the strength right now to face cleaning up either.
She spotted her footlocker sitting beside the bed. The one with the newly broken lock. Shuffling slowly over to the bed, she made a decision. She’d toss the stuff on her bed into the locker - most of it had come from there anyway. Once her bed was clear, she’d climb in. She’d worry about picking up the rest of her stuff later.
Leaning over the bed, she began to pick things up and toss them into the locker when her hand fell on a small, square photograph. Automatically, she flipped it over and stared down at it. It wasn’t much more than a dark streak across a clear, blue sky.
Sighing, she sat down on the side of the bed and stared at the photo for a moment before looking around for another photo she knew must be there as well - even as her mind flashed back to that day in September when she was nine.
The second photo was a picture of half his face. Or, more accurately, a corner of his face: a warm, brown eye, surrounded by the single lens of a pair of glasses, an eyebrow, the side of a nose, the corner of his mouth, dark hair and an ear. All blurred slightly. The picture she’d accidentally taken as she’d fallen out of that tree. She’d only remembered that it existed later and had to go back to the shoreline to retrieve it. As a result, in addition to everything else, the photo was also slightly crumpled and soiled.
The photo of the black streak was the photo she’d taken when he’d flown off.
Of course, no one had listened when she’d told them about him - her guardian angel. Still, the photos were proof enough to her that she hadn’t imagined him. He had been her guardian angel so...
“Where were you when I needed you today?” she asked, staring down at the photos.
When the photos failed to answer, Lois tossed them in the footlocker and then simply pushed the remainder of her stuff off her bed. She crawled beneath the covers and was asleep the instant her head hit the pillow.
* * * * * * * * *
April 1993
* * * * * * * * *
Lois settled back into her seat on the plane and relaxed. The seat next to her was empty now - the passenger who had occupied it having exited the plane in Rome. She was grateful. If she’d been forced to listen to one more story about that woman’s grandchildren, she’d have been compelled to take drastic action. The woman had talked non-stop about them almost from the moment they had departed Metropolis.
Letting her mind drift, she saw again the face of the man who had tried to prevent her from boarding this flight. What had been his problem, anyway?
But there was something about him... Something about his eyes that seemed familiar to her. Her eyes popped open as it suddenly occurred to her why those eyes had looked so familiar.
He had the same eyes as the man in that well-worn snapshot she’d taken so long ago. The man who had flown in, saving her life. The man who had claimed to be her guardian angel.
And he’d been warning her that if she went to the Congo, she’d never return. A sudden chill went through her body, but she forced herself not to panic. She had to think this through logically. Okay, so he’d warned her. But surely, now that she knew that her life was in danger, she could avoid her fate. She’d just have to be particularly careful.
Suddenly, relaxing was the last thing on her mind as she glanced around suspiciously at her fellow passengers.
* * * * * * * * *
September 1976
* * * * * * * * *
Clark landed beside the time machine and was just removing the tarp when a headache hit him, hard and fast. He buckled at his knees, the scenery swirling around him, as he dropped to the pavement. Every muscle in his body felt as if it were being torn apart. Kryptonite. It had to be. But kryptonite had never hurt as badly as this. No, with kryptonite, it felt as if he was on fire. This... this was like being torn apart by wild horses. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, as the agony continued, unabated.
He had no idea how long he lay there, knees up to his chest as he wreathed in agony, before the pain started to fade. He glanced around cautiously, but there was no sign of an eerie green glow. And he was alone, ruling out the possibility that someone carrying kryptonite had walked past him. He tested his powers and was relieved to discover he had them all.
The pain was almost gone now. Still not knowing what had happened, he cautiously rose to his feet. As the soreness in his bones continued to linger, he turned his attention back to the time machine. Maybe the pain was just a delayed reaction to traveling through time. Either way, what was important now was to fix the problem that had brought him too far back in time and get to where he needed to be.
* * * * * * * * *
November 1987
* * * * * * * * *
Perry picked up the current copy of the Ink and Quill and settled back in his chair. Since becoming editor, he always perused the university paper, keeping an eye open for young up-and-comers he could consider bringing into the Daily Planet. And over the years, the practice had served him well. It allowed him to offer positions to journalism students and graduates who took their chosen profession seriously.
His eyebrows rose when he saw the headline. It seemed the Ink and Quill had really outdone itself this week. The back of his mind tweaked.
Wait a minute. Hadn’t Henderson told him that the young woman who had come into the police station early this morning complaining that her evidence had been stolen had been ranting about football players not writing their own exams? Would the Ink and Quill have really printed a story without having the evidence to back it up? Didn’t seem likely that the old fuddy-duddy who served as their faculty advisor would have allowed that. Did that mean they’d located the evidence?
And hadn’t Henderson said that the name of the young woman writing the article had been a Lois Lane? This article was written by a Linda King.
Perry leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment. He supposed that two reporters working at the Ink and Quill could both have stumbled onto the same story. Or...
He jumped out of his chair and strode to the door to his office. “Ralph!” he bellowed, catching the attention of the newest copy boy. “Get me a copy of every edition of the Ink and Quill since September!”
When Ralph just looked at him blankly, Perry continued. “New Troy University’s paper. I need a copy of every edition since September. Just go down to the morgue and talk to Marg. She’ll help you find them.”
“Yes, sir,” Ralph said, shuffling slowly towards the elevators.
Perry watched him go, slightly troubled. The boy showed no enthusiasm and no initiative. It was just too bad his aunt sat on the board of directors at the Daily Planet.
Dismissing Ralph from his mind, Perry returned to his chair, picked up the current edition of the Ink and Quill and began to read.
An hour later, Perry had his answer. It hadn’t been hard to see when one had all the pieces to the puzzle. The story about the football players had a hard edge to it. But the writing style was solid. Needed some polish around the edges, granted. Needed a bit more of the human touch. But still solid work.
And when compared with stories both Linda King and Lois Lane had written for the Ink and Quill so far this year... Certain turns of phrase. Certain habits, both bad and good, when taken with the evidence that Perry White had received from Bill Henderson this morning, convinced Perry that he knew what had happened. It seemed that this Lois Lane that Bill had ranted about had just learned a hard lesson.
Perry clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. The question was, what happened now? Given the story Lois Lane had managed to put together about the football players, it seemed this was indeed a young woman worth keeping his eye on. But would this incident make her stronger, more determined, or would it crush her spirit?
He’d have to keep a close eye on the Ink and Quill for the next few months, and in particular a young reporter named Lois Lane. Depending on how she responded to this crisis, Bill might be right. She might be just what the Daily Planet needed.
* * * * * * * * *
“You’ve got to come to the party, Lois,” Molly insisted. “After all, what’s the alternative? Sitting around here, moping the rest of the night?” She gave Lois a fake pout.
Involuntarily, Lois smiled.
“See!” Molly exclaimed, deciding that Lois beginning to crack. “It’ll be fun.”
“Define fun.”
Molly playfully bumped her arm against Lois’. After Lois had left the sorority house, Molly had worried. But with so much to do for the party, it had taken her a couple of hours to get away. Finding Lois after that had been simple enough, waking her up had been quite another matter. Still, since Lois had done it to her the night before...
Besides, this party promised to be the biggest social event of the semester. And Molly knew if she hadn’t come after her friend, she would have spent the entire party worrying about her.
“Come on, Lois,” Molly continued. “I need you to ride shotgun for me tonight.”
“Shotgun?”
“Well, given that there will be all those good-looking, available males there and given that I’m going to be the hottest girl there, someone needs to be watching my back, making sure I’m not kissing one guy while an even hotter one is getting away.”
Lois laughed. “You wish!”
Molly smiled, heartened by the sound of her friend’s laughter. “So what do you say? Come to the party?”
Lois rolled her head towards her friend, looking at her briefly before finally giving in to the inevitable, unable to resist her friend’s sad little pout - not to mention her obvious concern. “Okay, I’ll come.”
“Great!” Molly said, springing up from the bed. “We’ll have a blast. I promise.”
“But I’m not dressing up, Mol,” Lois added. “I’m just coming to watch your back. Make sure you don’t pick up any losers.”
Molly smiled and twirled towards the door. As she grabbed the handle, she turned back around. “Then wear your acid washed jeans. They fit great. Oh, and that orange sweater with the three quarter-length sleeves. Given the way it shows off your cleavage, you’ll have all the guys panting.” She winked at Lois. “Might even give you a chance to pick up one or two of my castoffs.”
Without waiting for a reply, she flounced out of the room, leaving Lois laughing behind her, thinking about how lucky she was to have a friend like Molly.
* * * * * * * * *
Sparks flew, causing Clark to jump from the time machine the instant it re-materialized. Something had definitely gone wrong. But what? Okay, so maybe the parts of the plan that he’d spilled coffee on had been a little... hard to read. But obviously, it worked. He’d met a nine year old Lois Lane. So he’d gone back in time.
No the problem, whatever it was, had to be connected with the settings to determine the date he traveled to. And before jumping again, he’d have to take another look at the plans, try to correct it. It briefly occurred to him that unless he could fix it, he’d have problems getting back to his own time.
Still, he pushed those thoughts aside. Right now, the sun was getting low in the sky. That meant he needed to figure out exactly when he’d jumped to, find a place to store the time machine until he could fix it and maybe even look for a place to stay.
He supposed he could fly the machine to some deserted tropical island where there were plenty of bananas and coconuts to eat and stay there until the repairs were done. But the idea of being a hermit had never appealed to him. Besides, there was something about this city which grabbed him - no matter what time zone he may have leapt into. And at least he had thought to bring some money with him in case he had to stay for a while.
Which brought up a point. First order of business: what was the date?
After covering the time machine once again with the tarp, he walked out of the alley, looking for the dispenser for the Daily Planet.
November 14, 1987.
Okay, so that meant he’d leapt forward in time. Not as far as he’d planned. But still... he was heading in the right direction. Only another ten years and he’d be back where he’d started.
His mind flashed back to a young, precocious child. The nine year old Lois. She would be... what? Twenty in November of 1987? That’s right. She’d have turned twenty in late September. And, if he recalled his Lois history, she went to New Troy University. It would be her first year given that a serious car accident in highschool had caused her to lose a semester. So... what would a twenty year old Lois Lane be like? Just a look. Surely just getting a look at her wouldn’t hurt the time line.
He was unaware of the sloppy grin that settled on his face when, previous chores forgotten, he began walking towards the New Troy University campus.
END OF PART ONE
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART TWO...
ML
