Lois suddenly jumped up from his lap. "There's not much we can do about Tempus yet, and Lois is safely working her shift in this very building, and now that I've had something to eat, I'm longing for a shower. Want to come with me?"
"Ah ... " Clark picked up the copy of The Daily Planet. "I've been intending to read this - catch up on 1985."
"Sure?"
No, he wasn't. But ... "I showered earlier."
"OK. See you soon."
From behind the newspaper, Clark watched her walk into the bathroom.
It was wonderful to be with Lois again. Talking with her. Watching her smile. Listening to her voice. Tracking her expressions as they flickered across her face. Touching her. Trying to keep up with her nimble mind as she sorted though the facts.
He loved her so much.
He admired her strength. He envied her adaptability - even in the most bizarre of situations.
But none of that had been enough to dissolve the heavy burden of guilt that had solidified in his gut during the long hours as he had watched her slide to her death.
Part 7
Lois Kent carefully dried her feet, meticulously pressing the towel between her toes in an attempt to compensate for a mind that felt as if it were being tumbled in a tornado.
Someone wanted her dead so much that he had travelled back in time to kill her.
And he'd succeeded. For a time, she had been dead.
That felt ... weird. Eerie. Unnerving.
Also unnerving was the fact that she had come within a closed door of encountering another Lois Lane. Actually, the same one. Her. Just with a few less years on the clock.
Lois hadn't even stepped out of the hotel room, but the winds of change outside had pervaded their world.
Their relationship.
Her and Clark.
They'd retreated eight years through time, but it felt as if they were back where they'd been last week.
Just a few days ago ... before they'd talked outside the church, before their wedding, before they had made love, before Clark had regained his powers.
Before she'd died.
Watching her die must have been a harrowing experience for Clark. He was still shaken by it. She had tried to tease him out of his melancholy with a steady stream of love and cheerfulness, and at times, she had felt a few tenuous strands of reconnection. But she hadn't been able to overcome the feeling that something had divided their lives, leaving her on one side and him on the other.
Death did that.
But she was alive now. And she intended to stay that way.
Was it just the past that was bothering Clark? Or the future? Was he worried that if they didn't stop Tempus, she would die again when they returned to 1993? Had he realised that stopping Tempus in this time might not prevent the villain from going to another time - perhaps when she had been a child - and killing her then?
That was an alarming thought.
At any time, she could suddenly get sick. And die. From causes beyond their reach, outside of their time.
Just as she had done.
But Clark had found a way. He always would. He was the strongest man in the world. And the one thing more powerful than his physical strength was his love for her.
Not even kryptonite could weaken that.
They would get back to their lives. They had defeated Luthor. They had defeated Trask and Scardino. They would defeat Tempus. She had to believe that. And she had to help Clark believe it, too.
Lois pulled the nightgown over her head and contemplated her image in the mirror. The garment was more suited to something a man would buy for his mother than his wife.
But when he had purchased it, Clark hadn't known if she would remember him.
Lois recalled those first few moments of awareness - Clark had approached her with such uncertainty. She understood his hesitancy now - his joy at her awakening had been shackled by his fear that they would be strangers. But it didn't explain his continuing reservations every time they kissed.
That, too, reminded her of the weeks following Clark's escape from the warehouse. She had sensed a barrier around him as he had struggled to deal with his feelings of inadequacy. He had done nothing wrong, yet she knew he had tortured himself with the things he perceived as failings.
Lois groaned.
She could imagine the grief and hopelessness he had suffered during the long hours as she had slipped towards death. Coming as it had so soon after their marriage and honeymoon, it didn't require a huge leap to track the path of his thoughts.
How very Clark.
She had said there was little they could do right now to stop Tempus from killing Lois.
But there was plenty they could do to repair some of the damage he had caused. Clark had been adamant that, regardless of the generally accepted date, they were married. Which meant she had a way to reach him that hadn't been available before their wedding.
Lois rolled up the flowing material of the nightgown and bunched it in a bulky knot at her stomach, leaving the lower half of her body covered only by her underwear.
She checked the result in the mirror, and her gaze stalled on her face. "You died," she whispered. "Someone wants to kill you. And he's already succeeded."
She breathed out, patting down the flares of panic that were threatening to overwhelm her.
Clark needed her. She needed him.
Lois walked out of the bathroom. Clark's head shot up from the newspaper. His eyes glided down her body and then ricocheted back to her face. He stood, looking more ill at ease than he had when they'd entered his bedroom to begin their married life.
"Clark?" Lois said as she walked up to him. "Will you do something for me, please?"
"Of course," he said, his gaze glued above her neck.
"Will you go to the drugstore?"
His lurking anxiety flowed back like the returning tide. "What's wrong?" His hand cupped her shoulder. "Are you feeling sick? What happened, honey?"
"No, I'm not feeling sick at all," Lois said. "But I figure we shouldn't take any chances."
"No, we shouldn't," he agreed. "What do you need? Pain pills? Nausea pills? Something else?"
"Condoms."
His face evolved from shock to dismay. "Lois," he said. "We can't. We -"
"Yes, we can," she said. "In this room, it is 1993." She rested her hand on his shirt, stretching her fingers into the apex at his neck and onto his warm skin. "And we're married."
"But ... but what if ..."
"It was Tempus who hurt me," Lois said, sliding her hand up his neck. "It wasn't anything you did."
"I ..."
"You were worried," she said. "And in need of answers. But your conclusion was wrong."
"Lois ... we need to be careful."
"Sure we do," she said. "I really don't think getting pregnant now would be wise. Imagine the difficulties of trying to explain the sudden appearance of a seven-year-old kid when we get back to 1993."
Clark didn't even smile at her attempted humour. "I can't stand the thought of hurting you," he said.
"You won't hurt me. You've never hurt me."
"Lois," he said, his voice strained with anguish. "You died. And perhaps it's true that it wasn't anything I did that caused your death, but you died, and there was nothing I could do to save you. I am the strongest man in the world, but I was completely helpless."
"You found a way."
"I didn't find it."
She wasn't going to let him slip into another three weeks of introspection. She wasn't even going to allow him another three minutes. "OK, it walked in on you," she granted. "But you took the chance. You chose to leave your entire life to save me."
He slowly shook his head. "It wasn't a choice. I had nothing else to lose."
"Close your eyes," Lois said.
His eyes remained open long enough to fire a question, but then his eyelids slowly dropped in submission.
Lois slid her hand down his shoulder and onto his chest. "Imagine we're outside the church in Smallville," she said as her fingers slowly traced the upper slope of his pec muscle. "You're dressed in your wedding finery, looking magnificent."
"We're sitting on the bench," Clark said. "You have come to me. And we're talking."
"Yes. And you admit that, since the warehouse, you've been trying to pretend you don't need me, although the truth is that we both need each other so much."
"I will always need you."
Lois snuggled into his chest, and his arms circled her waist. "I understand that feeling helpless is particularly hard for you," she said. "I understand that watching me die must have been one of the most excruciating experiences of your life. But please don't shut me out. I need you, Clark. Dying is kinda scary."
His arms tightened. His big strong body surrounded her - a shield of protection, a canopy of love. "I'm sorry," Clark said. "I didn't mean to shut you out. I just couldn't forget ..."
"I can help you forget," Lois said. She captured his face in her hands and dived into the soft tenderness of his eyes. "And I need you to help me forget, too."
"I'm sor-"
She kissed across his apology.
Instantly, the dam ruptured, and he responded. Freely. Fully. Melding them together with the heat of their love and the flare of their passion.
In the very last second before total capitulation, Lois pulled away. "The drugstore," she gasped. "Quickly."
Clark gave her a short, searing kiss and disappeared through the balcony door.
"Hurry back, farmboy," she said. "I am not a patient woman."
+-+-+-+
"Hi, Lois."
Lois Lane turned from perusing the neat rows of pain pill packets to see Barry Russo standing beside her. She quickly closed the front of her coat, glad she had bothered to slip it on over her hotel uniform for her quick dash to the drugstore. "Oh, Barry," she said in a bored tone. "Hi."
"You're out late," he said. "Have you been to a party?"
"No. I've been chasing leads for my story."
"Any progress?" He seemed to be settling in for an extensive conversation, but if she were away for any longer than five minutes, Tony would be roaring through the hotel like an angry bull.
"Some."
"Can I walk you home?"
"Why? Are you hoping I want to talk about my story?"
Barry recoiled at the sharpness of her tone. "It's getting late," he said defensively. "I thought you might want some company."
No, she didn't want company. If she'd had the luxury of walking home now, her greatest wish would be silence and solitude so she could work through various scenarios that might explain why Robert James was being so evasive. "No, thanks," she said. "I always work alone."
"Are you sure? This part of town can be a bit rough."
"What are you doing here?" Lois asked, suddenly wondering if Barry *had* noticed Robert James talking to her outside Paul's office today.
"I help out at a community house for disadvantaged kids," he said with a self-conscious shrug. "We're repainting, so I ... Anyway, I'm sure you're not interested in that, but I was walking home, and I saw you through the window."
Lois chose a large packet of pain pills. She felt a little better than she had earlier, but her headache and general achiness hadn't budged for days. "I didn't know anything about the community house."
"It's not something I talk about much," he said.
That sounded convenient. Had he tracked down Robert James? Was the disadvantaged-kids story just a cover for why he was lurking in this part of town? "Why not?"
"Because ..." Barry shrugged again. "It's not really the coolest thing to be doing on a Friday night."
Lois wasn't sure if she believed him. But so long as he wasn't trying to muscle in on her Robert James story, she didn't care how Barry Russo spent his Friday evenings. Or any other evening, for that matter.
She turned away from him. "See you Monday," she called over her shoulder, hoping he would dissolve into the night.
He didn't. "Paul and Linda will be back on Sunday evening. We're meeting for lunch as usual on Monday."
By then, she would have her story. "Bye."
"Lois?"
She spun around. "What now?"
Barry took a step back as his eyes dropped to the packet in her hand. "Are you all right?"
"I have a headache," she said. "Do you want to see my doctor's note?"
He winced. "Sorry. It's none of my business."
At least he understood that much. Lois walked away, relieved when no footsteps followed her. By the time she rounded the last row of shelves, her irritation and eagerness to flee had given her significant momentum - and she cannoned into a large male body.
"Ah ..." She looked up. "It's you!"
Robert James didn't seem overly perturbed at their collision. His hand hovered near her right elbow, but if he so much as touched her, she was going to deck him. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"What are you doing here?" Her question was out before her brain had had the time to consider whether interrogating him here - possibly in Barry's hearing - was a good idea.
Robert James smiled!
A smug sort of smile, the purpose of which seemed to be to advertise that he knew something she didn't. "Good evening, Ms Lane," he said smoothly.
In his other hand, he held a paper bag. "Your wife needs proper medical attention," Lois snapped. "Not a couple of pills."
If a smile could swagger, his did. "I think that what I have bought for my wife will make her feel a lot better," he said.
Her reporter's antennae twitched. He'd *changed*.
It was as if he'd been anxious about something, but now ...
Had he done it? Had he really killed his wife?
"Goodnight, Ms Lane," Robert James said.
Lois watched him walk out of the drugstore.
Had his wife's condition improved? Was that the reason for the lightness of his step?
If she'd improved, what was he doing at the drugstore? What had he bought?
"Who was that?"
Lois groaned internally and summoned her frostiest glare as she turned to Barry Russo. "That was my source," she said coldly. "Every *real* reporter has one, you know."
"Is his wife all right?"
Lois rolled her eyes. Twice. "There's nothing wrong with his wife," she spat. "Mentioning his wife is our signal for, 'We can't talk now because there's somebody nearby who can't be trusted'."
"Oh," Barry said in a dashed tone that gave her hope he had finally gotten a grasp of how much she *didn't* want to be talking with him right now. "I hope you get your story," he said as he turned and walked out of the drugstore.
When Lois stepped outside a minute later, Barry Russo was nowhere in sight. She hurried back to the hotel. There was still an hour left of her shift. As the evening had worn on, Tony had become progressively more fanatical in his mission to ensure that she barely had a moment to draw breath as she scurried from one task to the next.
If she got half a chance to slip under Tony's radar, she would be up on the fifth floor.
Perhaps it was time to be more devious. Perhaps she would learn more by listening at the door, rather than banging on it.
Because Robert James was up to something, and she was going to uncover all the sordid details.
And then she was going to write the story.
And Paul Bender was going to be amazed.
+-+-+-+
The whoosh of moving air was Lois's first hint that her husband had returned. He materialised on the balcony and entered the room, striding towards her, his face lined with anxiety.
"What's wrong?" they uttered together.
Clark gripped her shoulders with both hands. "Lois," he said. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said. "Except you looked worried."
"That's because I heard your heart - it's accelerated. Are you feeling sick? Or did something frighten you?"
Lois looked into his overwrought face and was overcome with humour. "*That's* what was worrying you?" she managed to ask through her giggles. "My heart was beating faster than usual?"
"Yes," Clark said, looking perturbed.
Lois put both hands on his chest, placing her thumbs near the top button of this shirt. "While you were out, I was thinking," she said.
"About what? Tempus? Are you worried?"
She eased his top button from its hole. "Well, the first memory I called up was of a very cute farmboy barging into his bedroom with *thatchest* on glorious display."
The anxiety began to drain from Clark's face.
"And then," Lois continued as she freed his second button, "I revisited a beautiful tropical island. An island where that same farmboy with that same chest stripped off his shirt and went into the water wearing only his shorts."
Clark threw the package onto the table and rested his hands on her hips. "A lot of these memories seem to involve this farmboy less than fully dressed," he commented.
"Oh, yes," Lois said as the third button fell from its hole. "I'm a woman; he's spectacular."
"And *that* is why your heart rate was higher?" Clark asked. "Because of this farmboy?"
Lois pulled his shirt from his pants and unfastened the final two buttons. "That's my guess," she said. "Of course, if you were to take off your shirt, we could probably conduct some sort of scientific experiment measuring the relationship between the degree of exposure of your chest and the rate of my heart."
Clark dipped his head and nuzzled, drizzling a line of kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck. "I can think of a few other scientific experiments we could try," he murmured.
Lois's laughter bubbled. *This* was the Clark she remembered from their truncated honeymoon. Carefree. Confident. Inordinately sexy. "Take me to bed," she begged. "Please take me to bed."
He swept her into his arms. She clasped her hands around his head and launched into an unrelenting attack on his mouth.
He carried her to the bed.
And the honeymoon continued.
+-+-+-+
Clark lay entwined in a tangle of arms and legs with Lois, relishing the deep relaxation that had saturated his body.
He had thought he would never feel like this again - whole, replete, sated by her love.
He felt and heard her little gush of breath. It sounded like the embodiment of the entire spectrum of his feelings. He responded with an equally vague, but just as eloquent, grunt.
She laughed. "Someone needs to tell young Lois to stop wasting her time concentrating on the obits and realise that in her future she has a world-exclusive front page blockbuster."
Clark chuckled. "Only one?"
"Only one story," Lois said, "but she's going to have a lot of fun writing it over and over again."
If he'd just been 'written', Lois was welcome to pick up her pen any time she wanted to.
Lois rolled over and perched on his chest, looking down at him. "If Lois is going to enjoy this one day ..."
"... we need to do something about saving her from Tempus."
Lois nodded. "This meeting with Paul tomorrow ..."
"You can't come," Clark said firmly.
"OK," she said breezily.
Clark stared at her. "Excuse me?" he said, pushing through his stupor to inject a dash of surprise into his tone. "Did you just agree to stay out of the thick of the action without even arguing?"
"Yes," she said. "But only because you won't be there either."
He wouldn't be? "Now that you're awake there's less need to get information from Paul," Clark mused.
"But that's not the foremost reason," Lois said. "I've been thinking about the possibility that Tempus moved the death forward because he suspected he'd been followed. I think Tempus is Paul, and if he recognises you, we've lost our advantage." She traced his eyebrow with a soft finger. "You have x-ray vision. You can see him without him seeing you."
"I had planned to check his appearance before keeping the appointment."
"Paul used to get to his office about eight-thirty on a Saturday, so there will be plenty of time for you to zip over to the college," Lois said. "But you need to be here at ten o'clock."
"I do?"
"When young Lois was here before, she asked what you were going to do with the body."
"You heard that?" Clark said. "I'm really can't see how she logically came to the conclusion that I intended to hurt you."
Lois grinned. "Whoever said Lois Lane was logical?"
Clark returned her grin. "I wouldn't dare say otherwise."
Lois swooped down to touch a feathery kiss to his mouth. "So as much as she'd like to know your business with Paul, she's probably infinitely more curious about the condition of your wife."
"You think the change of time was a decoy?" Clark asked.
"I used to work until three o'clock on Saturdays," Lois said. "She probably planned the original four o'clock meeting to suit her availability to spy. But then she decided that an earlier time would actually suit her purposes better."
"Argggh," Clark groaned. "I've been outwitted. By a teenager."
Lois brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. "Don't feel too bad," she said. "That teenager is Lois Lane. She's outwitted a few people in her time."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Clark asked with a smile. Lois had already made him feel better. Much, much better.
"She hasn't won this round yet."
"You think she'll come knocking on the door at ten tomorrow morning?"
Lois laughed. "I doubt she'll knock. She'll probably just break in."
"But I'll be here waiting for her?" Clark said.
"Sadly for her investigation, yes," Lois said with an impish grin.
"How am I going to explain being here when I'd agreed to meet Paul?"
"We'll work out something. After doing a little investigating in Paul's office tonight, we might know more about him. We might even find the evidence we need to prove that the Paul Bender of this world is Tempus."
"You sound sure about Tempus being Paul."
"I am," Lois said. "It fits perfectly."
"I don't think we should dismiss the other men in Lois's life."
"Such as Barry Russo?" she said after a moment of thought. "And Tony Green?"
"Is he the owner of the hotel?
"Yeah. The boss."
"Carol seemed worried about how he would react if you happened to die in his hotel. Is that how you remember him?"
"That's him exactly," Lois said. "Grumpy. Obsessed with profits. His office door was always open, and we knew he was likely to appear at any moment. He behaved as if he believed that all of his employees, all of his guests, all of the municipal regulations, and the entire known world were actively working to thwart his attempts to run a successful business."
"Do you think that is why Lois looked so tired? Because Tony is working her too hard?"
"Friday night shifts - coming after a full week at college - were always tiring," Lois said.
"I think it's more than tiredness," Clark said. "I saw her in the drugstore. She was buying pain pills."
Lois's face lit with amusement. "Did she see what you were buying?"
"No."
"Pity," Lois said with a wide grin. "*That* is a scene I would pay money to witness. What would have been your on-the-spot excuse?"
Clark really didn't want to dwell on eighteen-year-old Lois Lane catching him with condoms, but he was willing to if it meant his wife continued smiling. "I would have told her the truth," he said. "That I am married to a beautiful and sexy woman, and she had practically demanded that I make love to her."
Lois's expression turned seductive. "You like a demanding wife?" she said.
Clark met her eyes, both of them toying with the luscious consequences if she made a few demands right now. "I suppose we should concentrate on the reason we're here," he said with regret.
"Yeah," she agreed. Her teasing manner dropped away. "If young Lois was buying pain pills, perhaps Tempus has already started."
Clark ran his fingers under her hair, letting its silkiness drape over his hand. "You're worried, aren't you?" he said. "Even though you're trying to pretend you're OK."
"I'm not really *worried*," Lois said slowly. "Just a bit ... spooked. I died. That's weird enough. But I could die again, not because I've been hurt, but because someone else has been."
Clark cupped his hand around her bare shoulder. "Don't worry," he said. "I won't let him hurt either of you."
She snuggled into his neck. Clark skated his fingers down her back.
This closeness - this being together - was everything he wanted. Everything *they* wanted.
And he was determined that no one was going to take it away.
