After a final glance through the walls and into the apartment, Clark began to fly them towards the college.

"Are we going to superbust our way in, or make use of my lock-picking skills?" Lois asked.

"Do we need to go in at all?" Clark asked. "I could just look from up here."

"I think we should go in," she said. "I need to see. I might notice something ... something different ... something you might not realise is significant."

"OK," Clark said. He gave her a quick smile. "But superbusting, as you call it, is more than getting in. Concealing that you've been in is the tricky bit."

"It shouldn't be *that* hard," Lois said. "Eighties security is less sophisticated than what we're used to. In fact, I remember from when I was investigating the football players - there were security guards, but no electronic surveillance."

"OK." Clark hovered above the college. "I've located three guards. The outer doors are locked, but there's no lock on Paul's office."

"I guess you don't want to just crash through the ceiling?"

"No," Clark said, smiling at her suggestion. "Just hang on. There's a guard about to unlock a door. We'll slip in behind him."


Part 9

Lois felt the air rush past her. When the sensation of movement ceased, Clark lowered her to her feet. "We're in Paul's office," he said. "There are no guards in this part of the building right now, but we need to be quiet and quick." He switched on the light ... and the memories flooded back. She had spent many hours in this office.

"Notice anything different?" Clark asked.

"There are no photographs," she said. "I remember Paul had one on his desk and a couple on his wall."

"Anything else?"

"Nothing immediately obvious. Let's dig a little deeper." Lois pulled out the top desk drawer. There was an assortment of papers - a few boring letters and a couple of photocopied articles from other newspapers. Underneath them, she found a small yellow Post-It note.

It was Paul's handwriting.

More memories.

Once, she had dreamed of love notes, written in Paul's tight, stilted script.

Clark turned from where he was looking through the file cabinet. "Found something?"

"A piece of paper with an address in New Jersey and a phone number," Lois replied. "The Scotsburn Convention Center."

"Does it mean anything to you?"

"The address doesn't. But I know this is Paul's handwriting."

Clark paused. "It's going to be difficult for Tempus to emulate someone else's handwriting."

Lois looked at the address again. "Paul wrote this," she said. "I know he did."

"So either it was written before Tempus came to 1985, or he's not Paul."

"Yeah." Lois memorised the information on the note and replaced it under the letters.

Clark was working through the file cabinet drawers. "Lois?" he said, as his blur of movement stopped.

"Uhmm?" She opened the second drawer of Paul's desk.

"What was Paul's favourite drink?"

The desk drawer contained pens, pencils, scissors, a stapler, a smattering of coins, the pad of Post-It notes, paper clips, a teaspoon, and several Tootsie Rolls. "Ah ... He drank a lot of coffee."

"Cold drink?"

"The usual. Mostly soda. Coke was probably his favourite. Why? Have you found a stash of alcohol?"

"No." Clark stepped back, revealing the deep bottom drawer of the file cabinet was stacked with twenty-ounce bottles of root beer.

Lois shrugged. "It was on sale?" she guessed.

"Did you drink root beer then?"

"Yeah," she said. "It was a couple of years later that I gave up soda."

"Do you find it surprising that he has so many bottles and it's all root beer?"

"I wouldn't have predicted it," Lois said. "But Paul had a lot of contacts - perhaps one of his sources likes it."

"You don't remember anything?"

"No. Paul guarded his sources jealously."

"OK." Clark straightened and began a slow perusal of the office, scanning through different depths as only he could.

Lois closed the desk drawer and rustled through the papers lying a little haphazardly on top of the desk. A flash of pink caught her eye. She delved under the papers and plucked it out.

It was a folded piece of notepaper. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed.

It smelled of honeysuckle.

Her curiosity burned.

Of course, she shouldn't read someone else's private communication.

But in a few days, she would be eight years away.

And she couldn't help wondering who had written sweet-smelling notes to Paul Bender in 1985.

Impulsively, she opened the note.


Dear Paul:

Thank for this wonderful opportunity. I promise you won't regret it.

Love and kisses,

Linda


Clark sidled up to Lois. "There's a guard coming," he whispered.

Lois pushed the note under the papers. The light went out, Clark's hands encircled her waist, and they slowly rose to within a couple of inches of the ceiling.

She heard the muffled sound of footsteps - increasing in volume at first and then fading away.

Clark lowered them quietly to the floor. "We need to get out of here," his voice murmured close to her ear. "There's a guard heading for an external door on the far side of the building. His touch left her, and the room lit as he flicked the switch. "Any signs we were here?"

The pink note wasn't visible among the papers; the drawers she'd opened were closed. "Nothing I can see," Lois said.

"Let's go then."

After turning off the light, Clark swept her into his arms. With a whoosh, they flew from the office and into the colder air outside, rising to hover in the darkness. "You OK?" he asked.

Lois laughed. "I still love the thrill of slicing through the air in your arms."

Clark smiled; her comment had pleased him. "Did you notice anything in Paul's office?" he asked.

"I don't know if it has anything to do with us, but I found a note from Linda, thanking Paul for an opportunity."

"Do you remember Paul favouring Linda?"

"Well ..." Lois thought back. "I always worried she was his favourite - even before the stolen story incident - but I put it down to teenage jealousy getting the better of my ability to reason logically."

"But Paul believed Linda about the story."

"I always figured that was because she got to tell her side first."

"I would have believed you," Clark said.

Lois tossed him a quick smile before replying. "But you're biased," she said. Perhaps Paul had been, too - even before the conflict over the story. What opportunity had Paul given Linda? How did she intend to ensure he wouldn't regret it? Was it usual to sign a note to an editor with 'love and kisses'?

"I checked all the papers in his entire file cabinet," Clark said. "There was nothing notable. Everything was dated in the past. There was nothing about Superman or Clark Kent. There was a file about Lois Lane containing some of her stories but nothing unexpected."

"Anything about poison? Or pulling off the perfect murder?"

"No. There was a lot of research about a wide variety of topics, but you'd expect that in an editor's office."

"I think we should check out Paul's home," Lois said.

"Are you expecting to find something there?"

"Yes," Lois said grimly. "Linda."

"I'm not sure we should -"

"You're not sure we should spy on them unless it's directly related to what Tempus is trying to do to Lois."

"Convince me," he said.

"OK," Lois said. "I don't remember Paul and Linda being so close this early. As far as I knew, their relationship only started after my footballers-cheating story - which I wrote in late November."

"So that's a potential difference?"

"Yes," Lois said. "And every difference we find strengthens the case that Tempus is Paul."

"You still think Paul is most likely? Even though we found nothing significant in his office?"

Lois was sure the pink note was significant. "Yes."

"I think it's Barry," Clark said. "He followed Lois home."

"Let's see if Paul is with Linda, shall we?" Lois said.

"OK," Clark said, although he didn't sound completely convinced. "Where did he live?"

Lois directed him to an apartment block west of the college. "Paul lived in the fourth room on the eighth floor," she said.

"Did you go there?"

"I went there a couple of times with Linda and Barry," Lois said. "I was never there alone with Paul."

"There's no light coming from the windows."

"Look into the room. The bedroom."

Clark paused.

"You're a married man," Lois said. "Whatever you see, it shouldn't shock you as much as it would have a week ago."

Clark chuckled softly. "Actually, it's 1985, and I'm very definitely still a virgin."

"In our hotel room, it's 1993, and you're very definitely not a virgin."

He grinned. "Perhaps we should make sure of my newly acquired status when we get back to the little oasis of our time."

Lois took his cheeks in her hands and turned his head towards the apartment building below. "Look!" she instructed. "Or we will never get back."

"Nothing," Clark said after a few seconds. "The entire apartment is empty."

"OK," Lois said. "Let's check Linda's place."

She expected Clark would object, but he didn't. "Where did she live?"

Again, Lois gave directions. Again, Clark located the apartment. "Well?" Lois said.

"It's empty. No one is there."

"Are you sure? Did you look in the bedroom?"

"Yes," Clark said. "I looked in the bedroom. The bed was neatly made. The entire apartment was empty."

It was Friday evening. Paul and Linda were probably out somewhere, but what really interested Lois was whether they were together. "Let's go back to our room," she said.

They landed on the balcony, and once they were inside the room, Clark set Lois on her feet and then folded her into the warmth of his embrace. "This has upset you, hasn't it? This thing with Paul and Linda?"

Lois rested her hands on his shoulders. "I'm not jealous of anything Paul might have had with Linda," she said. "I'm just surprised that she was writing him such intimate notes after just a few weeks of college."

"Paul Bender is *not* the right man for Lois Lane," Clark said solemnly. "Trust me."

"You don't have to convince me," Lois said as she lowered her hands to rest on the front of his shirt. "I never saw Paul's chest, but I am absolutely certain it could not have been in the same league as yours."

His grin expanded. "So you only married me for my chest?"

"I have never made any secret of my admiration for this chest," Lois said, pressing a little more deeply into the cotton material of his shirt.

"Should we talk through what we saw? Compare notes? Theorise?" Clark said, although it was obvious that his suggestion was little more than a nod to his conscience when every other part of him was yearning for a different path.

"Yes, we should," Lois said, waiting for, seeing, and enjoying the slight downturn of disappointment in Clark's expression. "But not yet."

His smile bounced back. "After?"

"After what?" she teased.

His reply wasn't verbal.

But she understood.

And agreed.

Talking could definitely wait.

+-+-+-+

Lois Kent awakened early the next morning, and the sight of her sleeping husband melted her heart with love. In the turmoil of everything that had happened, it was easy to forget that this was only the third time she had awoken next to him.

It was the perfect way to begin a new day.

But as they had slept, the time of her death had inched closer. She'd noticed Clark had been careful not to name a specific day, but she knew it preyed continually on his mind.

A month ago, they had escaped from the warehouse, and she had taken Clark - wounded and weakened by kryptonite - to the cottage behind Sarah Crawford's mansion. Her greatest fear had been that he might not regain his powers; she hadn't seriously thought he might die.

But he had faced the very real threat of her death. He'd lived through it. The wounds - this time on his heart and mind - were still there.

Perhaps the only way to bring complete healing was to look forward.

Which wasn't easy when they were stuck in the past.

Her eyes stayed on Clark, but her thoughts moved to last night.

Paul's office.

Linda's note.

Lois had gone to sleep with questions about Linda's 'opportunity' simmering in her mind, feeling silly that she, a woman married to the most wonderful of men, was wasting her time reliving a meaningless fit of teenage jealousy when she should have been trying to piece together the clues and make progress towards stopping Tempus.

But now ...

Lois leapt from the bed and hurried across the room to the telephone. It was only just past six-thirty, but the early hour could work in her favour. A recorded message might give her information without requiring anything in return.

She dialled - literally - the number she had memorised from the Post-It note she'd found in Paul's drawer. The call rang three times, and then clicked through.

"You have reached The Scotsburn Convention Center," came a female voice. "No one is available to take your call at present. Please call back after eight o'clock."

Lois waited in case any more information was forthcoming, but the line disconnected. She slowly replaced the phone and turned back to the bed.

Clark was sitting up, his chest bare, his hair tousled, and with a slightly sleepy smile adorning his expression. "You think of something?" he asked.

Lois crossed the room and sat next to him. "Maybe," she said. "I put two and two together."

"And?"

"I'm not sure. Remember the address I found in Paul's drawer?"

"Yes."

"And the pink note from Linda?"

Clark claimed her wrist and slid up her forearm to drag her closer to him. "We talked about this last night," he said. "And you decided you didn't care what 'opportunity' Paul had given Linda, it didn't compare with flying around the world in the arms of a man who will always be completely in love with you."

Actually, that had been only one of her conclusions. The other had been that *nothing* could compare to being Clark Kent's lover - but perhaps he was too modest to repeat that. "What if they're connected?" Lois asked.

"Paul and Linda?"

Maybe it was still a little early in the morning after a night that had steamed well past midnight. "What if Linda's opportunity was somehow connected to the Scotsburn Convention Center?"

"You think Paul took her there?"

"It's possible."

Clark frowned. He was definitely still a little clogged in the aftermath of a big night. "Even if he did ... how does that help us find Tempus?"

"I've always thought Paul was the most obvious suspect," Lois said. "Simply because Tempus chose this particular time in my life."

Clark nodded.

"Neither Paul nor Linda was home last night."

"You think they've gone *this* weekend?" Clark said with surprise.

"I think it's worth checking out. That's why I called the centre."

"But if Tempus is Paul, and he's planning to kill Lois, why would he take *Linda* to New Jersey now?"

"He needed an alibi, perhaps?" Lois suggested. "Or, if Tempus thought there was a possibility Wells could follow him to 1985, he might have figured it was expedient to be out of town right now - in the days just before he -"

"- before we stop him," Clark cut in.

Lois gave a little smile at the rugged determination in his voice. Tempus wanted her dead, but she had Superman looking out for her.

"I don't think we should dismiss the other possibilities," Clark said. "I am going to be watching Barry Russo very closely today."

"I agree his actions last night were suspicious," Lois said. "But I doubt the name 'Barry Russo' was prominent in the Kent History books. I don't understand why Tempus would have chosen him."

Clark sat up straighter, looking as if he had finally shrugged off the cloak of slumber. "Tempus has a time machine," he said. "He could have come here another time. He could have supplemented his book learning with actual experience." He checked his watch. "What time does Lois's shift start?"

"Eight o'clock."

"Would you like breakfast now?"

Lois placed her hand on his thigh and squeezed through the blanket. "What sort of breakfast do you have in mind, farmboy?"

He paused, clearly tempted to expand his offer to something more enthralling than mere food. Then, with a sigh, he said, "I should make sure young Lois gets here safely."

Lois patted his leg and gave him a smile. "Breakfast would be wonderful," she said. "Do you think we should wait until after eight and order room service?"

"No," he said, rising from the bed. "I don't think we should initiate any more contact with young Lois. If you're right about what's she planning, she'll be here at ten."

"I've been thinking about that," Lois said. "We need to plan what we're going to do."

There was a blur of movement, and then Clark stood before her, fully dressed.

"Do you have a reverse button?" Lois asked. "And slo-mo?"

With a quick smile, he leant down and kissed her. "Yes," he said. "But right now, we need breakfast." He took a couple of steps towards the balcony.

"Get *good* coffee," Lois called.

With a wave, he was gone.

"Oh, Lois," she murmured. "Open your eyes, girl. You can*not* be that blind."

+-+-+-+

Lois quickly ran a comb through her hair as she heard Clark returning to the hotel room. She was going to have to learn to move quickly if she were to have a chance of keeping up with her super-powered husband.

"Lois?"

It was still there in his voice - the slight anxiety, the doubt, the 'what if'. "In here," she called back quickly. She took a final glance into the mirror, assessing the clothes Clark had bought for her and wondering if there would be any chance to visit a store today.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, most of the anxiety she had heard in Clark's voice cleared from his face. "Everything all right?" he asked.

She walked over to him and kissed away the tension from his mouth. "Everything's going to be just fine," she said brightly. "Assuming you brought good coffee."

"I did," he said with a smile. "From one of your favourite cafes in Florida."

"I don't remember drinking coffee in Florida," Lois said as she sat down at the table.

"You didn't go to the coffee," Clark said. "It came to you. But you said you liked it." He shrugged apologetically. "I usually carry European money, but I gave my wallet to Wells."

Lois ripped open three sachets of sugar and poured them into one of the cups of coffee. "I looked in my bag for makeup and discovered that my purse and phone were gone."

"Yeah," Clark said. "Wells took them because they were going to be hard to explain in 1985."

"You were sure about trusting him?"

"I was trusting him with your life," Clark said. "Money, phone ... none of that mattered in the least."

"I guess he took your journal as well."

"No." Clark arose from the seat, went to the bed, and reached under the mattress. "Here it is."

"You hid it? In the bed?" Her initial surprise gave way to amusement. "I can understand why. Can you imagine young Lois's reaction if she were to read some of your 1993 entries? The ones featuring Lois Lane?"

"I didn't really think of that," Clark admitted. "You were still asleep. I thought we both needed to hear it."

"How long after we arrived at the hotel did I wake up?"

"A few hours."

Lois hadn't realised that his anguish and doubts had extended more than a few minutes past leaving 1993. "Oh, Clark," she said. "That must have been so hard for you."

"But you woke up," he said, rallying a smile. "And you remembered me."

"You really thought I might not remember anything?"

"Wells was confident you would remember up to 1985," Clark said grimly.

She cupped her hand around his. "I can't imagine how awful it would be to be in love with someone and to know the wonderful history you share, but for that person to have forgotten it all."

Clark nodded. Then smiled. "It doesn't matter now," he said. "We're together. And we both remember everything."

"I'm hoping you'll forget," she said. "I'm hoping you'll forget that terrible time in the hospital."

"I won't ever forget it," Clark said.

"Then I hope my love can diminish its power to hurt you."

"It was my greatest fear ... come true."

Lois leant over the table and kissed him. "I love you," she said. "We have a destiny together, and no one is going to take it away from us." She pushed his sweetened, stirred coffee towards him with a smile. "I'll call the centre after eight. I should be able to find out if there's a conference this weekend and whether two rookie reporters could possibly be there."

Clark tore open the bag containing the breakfast sandwich and put it in front of Lois. "I did a couple of checks on the way to get breakfast," he said. "Barry Russo was still asleep in his bed, and Lois was having a shower."

Lois grinned. "You looked?" she said.

"No!" Then his smile broke out. "You know I wouldn't look," he said with mild reproof.

Which is why she'd felt comfortable asking him. "How did you know she was having a shower?"

"I listened. When I heard the shower, I looked into her room and saw her empty bed."

"How many of the pain pills had she taken?"

"There were eight gone from the packet in her bag."

Lois grimaced. Eight was a lot. "Do you think he's poisoning her? Do you think that's why she needed so many?"

"We didn't find any poison in either Paul's office or Barry's room," Clark said.

"Do you think she's suspicious that someone might be trying to hurt her?"

"Do you?"

Lois thought back, trying to bend her mind into that of a college student again. "I was always looking for something that might turn into a story," she said. "But I wasn't expecting to *be* the story."

"I feel so sorry for her," Clark said. "She's young. She's not feeling well. And she's being targeted for choices she hasn't even made yet." His solemn eyes rested in hers. "Do you regret those choices?"

Lois squeezed his hand. "Not for one moment," she said.

"Time is a little flaky, but we've been married about five days," he said. "And already so much has happened to you."

Lois nodded. "Most of it good."

"Lois," he said. "You died."

"Yes. But I'm not dead now," she said. "I'm eating a yummy breakfast with a husband who is even yummier."

That comment enticed Clark's smile to reappear - which had been exactly her hope. "Is 'yummier' a word?" he asked.

"Of course it is," she said. "If you're unsure of its meaning, go and look in the mirror. That will give you a perfect definition."

His smile and the colour of his cheeks deepened, driving away a few more fragments of dark memories. "You said you had thought about what we should do when young Lois comes at ten o'clock."

Lois sipped at her coffee, collecting her thoughts. "I think saying she can't see me because I'm sick is probably wearing thin as an excuse. It's only going to fire her curiosity and make her even more determined to find out what you're hiding. Who knows what she might do then."

"Got any better ideas?"

"I think we should try to get her on our side. Work together."

Clark's eyebrows drew together. "We can't -"

"Hear me out," Lois said. "I think you should say you're an undercover cop. Or a government agent. Think Franklin Hodge. Tell her you're here tailing someone."

"I don't think it's usual for a government agent's wife to accompany him when he's working."

Remembering Franklin's comment about his job having become a wedge between him and his family, Lois nodded. "If she pushes you for details, you could admit that you lied about me being your wife - for reasons of propriety because it is imperative that we share a room. You could say that someone is trying to kill me and it's your job to protect me."

"I'm not a very good liar."

That was true. And it was one of the things Lois loved about her husband. "You don't have to be a very good liar," she said. "It's not too far from the truth. You *are* here chasing a murderer. You *are* trying to protect me."

Clark lifted his sandwich, but he didn't take a bite. "I don't want to say that you're not my wife," he said.

"OK," Lois said. "Tell her that through your job, you made an enemy of a bad guy and he's threatening the safety of your wife."

Clark slowly chewed his sandwich. "That's more plausible," he said.

"Therefore, it's too dangerous for *anyone* to see me," Lois said, warming to the story. "Dangerous for them, dangerous for me. Tell her you chose this hotel to be inconspicuous - but with her becoming so interested, you decided the best way to protect your cover was to tell her some of the truth. If she asks a really awkward question, say you're not at liberty to disclose some details."

"I hate deceiving her," Clark said.

"We're only here for a few days," Lois reminded him. "We just need to buy some time to keep her from going to the police or doing anything else spectacularly stupid." She pulled the bacon from her sandwich and nibbled at it. "I thought of something else, too - Tempus must be watching Lois. If Lois is watching us, it could lead him directly to us."

"Which could explain the accelerated timing," Clark said bleakly.

They couldn't think that far ahead now. She needed to warn Clark. "Be careful what you say about Paul."

"Because you think he is Tempus?"

"That's only one reason," Lois said. "Young Lois is not going to believe Paul in the wrong. She's going to get defensive if you even hint that you suspect him of anything. As much as I'd like information about the Paul she knows to compare with the Paul I knew, it's imperative that you don't let her sense your animosity towards him."

"Do we know for sure that Lois has feelings for Paul?"

Lois hadn't considered any other possibility. "I did," she said blankly.

"But if this Paul is different from the one you knew, perhaps this Lois feels differently about him."

That would change everything. "It's inevitable his name will come up," Lois said. "See how she reacts. But unless she displays hostility towards him, assume that anything negative you say about Paul will antagonise her. If that happens, it's possible she'll go running to him to get the answers she can't get from you. If he's Tempus, that's the last thing we want."

"I'm not sure I can do this," Clark said. "You are much better at thinking on your feet than I am."

Lois stroked the length of his forearm. "Don't worry," she said. "We'll do it together. Lois is no match for both of -"

"Lois, you can't be here when she comes."

"No, but I can be hidden in the bathroom. I'll listen. If there is something I think you should say, I'll whisper it. Lois won't be able to hear but you will."

"OK," Clark said, looking more confident. "That could work."

"Remember, she won't be expecting you to be here. That gives us the initial advantage. By then, we might know for sure that Paul is at the conference this weekend. But even if he is, I don't think you should admit you knew he wasn't going to be at the meeting she arranged."

"Why not?"

"Because we don't want young Lois thinking Paul is on your radar. If she asks why you wanted to meet him, say it was a cover." Lois quickly ran through the encounter in her mind, trying to predict questions and answers, reactions and counter reactions. "If she thinks you've outmanoeuvred her, she will get snarky. I *still* hate the feeling of a story hitting a roadblock."

Clark sucked in a big breath.

Lois pressed her fingertips into the solid ridge of muscle that extended from his elbow to his wrist. "You're still Clark Kent," she said. "She's still Lois Lane. There is no one in the world more able to persuade Lois Lane than Clark Kent. Remember back to Smallville. I was chasing a monumental story involving aliens and blackmailing scientists and ruthless government agents, and you showed me what was really important. And you did it simply by being Clark."

"What if she still insists on seeing you?"

"Tell her I'm stubborn," Lois said with a grin. "That's a concept she should understand. And tell her that I don't give in to stupid teenagers who haven't yet developed the ability to discern a good man from a jerk."

Clark winced. "I might tone that down a bit if it's OK with you."

Lois laughed again. "You scared of her, Kent?"

"No. Not really." He gave a hesitant smile. "Just a bit. She's Lois Lane."

Lois grinned at the thought that flashed through her mind, but she said nothing.

"What?" Clark asked, matching her grin.

"Well, it occurred to me that there is a perfect way to take Lois's mind from Paul Bender forever."

"There is?" Clark said, looking interested.

"You could kiss her."

"Lois!" he exploded. "I can't kiss her. She's half my age, and she thinks I'm a murderer."

Lois smiled in calm response to his outburst. "Pity," she said. "Your kisses are probably the most powerful force on this planet. And because she is Lois, she would be totally defenceless."

His shock dissolved to a smile. "Were you defenceless?" he asked with an adorable little quirk of one eyebrow. "The first time I kissed you?"

"Totally. Didn't you notice how everything changed after we kissed in your car? And it wasn't even a real kiss; we were just trying to hide from the Sewells."

"It felt real to me," Clark said. "I knew that I had to be with you forever."

His sombreness had returned like the tide. Lois grinned, trying to push it back. "OK," she said. "I accept that you can't kiss her. But don't worry. All you have to do is be normal, natural Clark. That will be enough."

"But ..."

"What?"

"I'm worried that in some deep place in her brain, I'll leave a bad impression. She might never be able to explain it, but when she meets Clark in a few years, it could mean she never fully trusts him."

"She will trust him," Lois said, mustering all the confidence she could. "She will grow up. She will realise what she really wants. And when she meets him - at the proper time - she'll know he's the one. Nothing will change that."

His smile felt like a caress. "That's good," he said quietly. "Because no Clark Kent can live without Lois Lane."

Lois smiled, too. "And that's exactly young Lois's problem. She doesn't have Clark Kent in her life."

"I never thought I'd be hoping Lois Lane would forget me."

Clark worried too much. But telling him that now would seem to trivialise his pain at her death. "It's after seven o'clock," Lois said. "If young Lois is as lethargic this morning as she was last night, she might be leaving her apartment soon. We should get going."

Clark didn't comment about her assumption they would both go. He gathered up the used bags and cups, which were displaying the address of an Orlando cafe, and stood up. "We shouldn't leave these here," he said. "We don't want Lois seeing it."

"We'll put it in a trash can outside," Lois said. She picked up his journal and pushed it under the mattress again.

Clark lifted her into his arms. "Ready?"

"Yep."

"We'll have to be more careful than last night. We won't have the cover of darkness."

"Do you have a plan?"

"I noticed a tall building," Clark said. "If we land on top of that, I should be able to see into Barry's apartment and also track Lois as she walks to the hotel."

Lois put her arms around his neck. "Tempus doesn't stand a chance," she said. "Not against the combined forces of Lane and Kent."

Clark smiled, looking more relaxed and confident than he had since they'd found themselves in 1985.

And her heart soared. This was a battle they were going to win.