Relief swept over them. Tempus had been stopped. Both versions of Lois were safe. "When will Wells arrive to take us home?" she said.
"He said he would come as soon as your life-force appeared beyond Tuesday on his tracker."
"So, it could be any time?"
"I guess so." Clark looked around the room, and his attention stopped at the bed. "I have an idea for what we could do to pass the time," he said.
"Like go to a disco?" Lois said. "Or shop for some eighties fashion?"
"That wasn't *exactly* what I was thinking," Clark said with an adorable little smile.
"Let me guess," Lois said. "Your idea involves fewer clothes? Not more?"
"We are on our honeymoon," Clark pointed out.
Lois nodded. "But there is something I would like to do before we leave 1985."
"OK," Clark said.
"Something I've been thinking about. Something I'd really, really like to do, but I need my superpowered husband to be able to do it."
"I'm all yours," Clark said with his trademark smile. "You know that."
"Good," Lois said, feeling her excitement build. "Because this is going to be fun."
Part 15
Clark had to smile at the enthusiasm on his wife's face. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, already looking forward to making her happy.
"It's Saturday afternoon, right?"
"Yes." But he wasn't surprised that she'd had to check.
"What did you do?"
He searched her face for further elucidation, but her smile had turned mysterious and gave him nothing. "Excuse me?" he questioned.
"What did you do? On a Saturday afternoon? In 1985?"
His mind grasped a scrap of her meaning. "Lo-is. We can't -"
"Yes, we can," she said. "It will be simple. We'll fly to Midwest. We'll find him. We'll watch him for a few minutes, staying in the background. We'll come back here. Easy. Quick. Safe."
He would grant her the 'easy' and 'quick'. But 'safe'? "Lois -"
"You played football right? So young Clark will either be playing a game, or possibly training."
"Probably training," Clark said.
"Perfect," Lois said enthusiastically. "Will you take me?"
"Lois. I -"
"You're worried," she said. "But what could possibly go wrong? You've seen young Lois. You've talked with her. Wells said that would be OK. I just want to see the younger version of you. If he is training, we will blend into the crowd. He won't ever know that he had an extra admirer watching him."
"What if someone who knows him sees me?" Clark asked.
"You're Superman," Lois said with a pat to his shoulder. "I'm sure you can stay out of sight if you need to."
"I told the police I would be available to sign my statement," Clark said.
"We'll go out via the lobby so Carol will know we've left. We'll tell her we'll be back within half an hour. If the police call, she'll pass on the message, and you can go to the station."
Clark's natural aversion to risk flared up, but he could see how much Lois wanted to do this, so he tried to stifle it. "You can't let Carol see you," he said.
But Lois was on a mission. "Carol won't even consider that I could be Lois," she said. "She's just seen Lois Lane walk out with her father and a bunch of cops. Clearly, Lois Lane could *not* be walking out now with one of the guests. And she knows that shots were fired - with all that excitement, Carol isn't even going to give me a second glance."
"If we go, you'll just look?" Clark asked. "You won't approach him?"
Lois folded her arms around his neck. "I want our future just as much as you do," she said. "I just want to see him ... you." She slid her fingers into his hair. "Please, Clark. I don't expect I'll ever have this opportunity again."
Refusing Lois anything had never been one of his powers, so Clark summoned his most stern look and said, "You expect me to stand next to you while you ogle some young buck playing football?"
Lois giggled delightedly. "All I'll do is look," she said. "But when we get back here ..." She paused long enough to ply him with an appetiser of a kiss. "... I'll be doing a whole lot more than looking, and he won't be here."
Clark wished they could leap straight into the main course, but he was putty to the beseeching look in her lovely brown eyes. On the surface, it seemed harmless enough. They could watch training from a distance. Perhaps it would help to make up for not seeing her father.
And, Clark had to admit, he was kind of curious, too. What would it be like to observe another version of himself? Would young Clark look as obviously ill at ease as Clark had feared he had? Or, by nineteen, had he mastered the art of appearing to be a regular guy? "OK," he said. "We'll go."
Lois gave a little jump. "Thank you," she said. A splash of teasing sprung out from her gratitude. "I bet you were spectacular," she said. "Is there any chance he'll peel off all that football gear and give us a display of 'thatchest'?"
"No," Clark said, trying to control his inclination to smile along with her.
"Oh, well," Lois said, grinning broadly. "I guess I'll just have to wait until we get back here to devour the fully-developed version."
If they didn't go now, there was a real possibility that they would skip the detour to the Midwest and go directly to bed. "I'll check that the coast is clear," Clark said. He focussed his hearing, and being unable to locate young Lois's heartbeat in the hotel, he held out his hand to his wife.
Her smile - he had once thought he would never see it again - burst with happiness. They walked out of the room together. Clark locked the door, and they stepped openly into the world of 1985.
+-+-+-+
Clark Kent removed his helmet and trudged from the football field.
Competitive sports were becoming more complicated. He had to look as if he were giving the uncompromising effort the coach demanded, but in doing that, he risked becoming the target of suspicion.
Or worse, injuring one of the other players.
He loved playing football. He loved being a part of the team. He loved the feeling of belonging. He loved feeling normal.
But he knew this was going to have to be his final season. He was too weird. Too different.
Today, he had pulled out. He'd been going for an interception; he'd seen another player coming at full pace; he'd hesitated.
He hadn't been subtle enough. And the coach had been livid.
"Clark!"
He looked up to see Lana approaching him. She'd come all the way from St Louis to visit him. She'd insisted on coming, even though he'd seen her a month ago in Smallville. She'd said they needed to talk.
But no amount of talking was going to change that Clark Kent couldn't be the guy she wanted him to be. "Hi, Lana," he said, trying to instil some small hint of pleasure into his greeting. "Thanks for staying."
"What happened?" she demanded, her tone doused in displeasure.
She'd seen the disaster on the field. She wouldn't understand. She was always telling him that if he just tried a bit harder, he could be the quarterback. "I ... I lost concentration," he said.
She shot him a look that made him feel about three years old. "You can't let that happen," she scolded. "You could do so much better if only you tried. You could be the star."
But Clark didn't want to be the star. He wanted to be one of the team. He didn't want to stand out - he'd spent his whole life trying to blend in. "I'm sorry it happened when you were here," he said.
Lana pouted. "It was embarrassing."
For her. That's what she meant - it was embarrassing for her. "Sorry."
"How long until you're finished here?"
Clark winced, knowing his reply would sour her mood further. "At least another hour. We have a team meeting about the game next week."
"An hour? You didn't say I would have to wait that long."
Because he'd known how she would react. He gave her a half smile that he hoped would suffice as an apology. "I'll pick you up from your hotel."
Lana gave him a tight nod and strode away, her annoyance crackling in every step. With his head down, Clark turned towards the locker room.
He almost cannoned into a woman. "Sorry," he said quickly, extending his hand in case he'd knocked her off balance.
"It wasn't your fault," she said, looking completely unperturbed by his clumsiness.
Clark stopped. And stared.
It wasn't just her words - although it was nice that *something* wasn't his fault. It was the softness of her tone. It was the way she looked at him. It was everything about her. She was beautiful. Poised. Elegant. And, despite being a few years older than he was, he couldn't ignore that she was totally woman in a way that had taken about a microsecond to capture his fascination.
As he watched her, she smiled. It was like a miracle - as if it had the power to reach inside him and lift his heart from the pit of his stomach.
"I wasn't looking where I was going," Clark admitted.
"Bad day, huh?"
Had she seen it? The debacle on the field? And the resulting public dressing down he'd received from the coach? Clark hoped not. "Yeah."
She smiled again, laden with ... acceptance. As if she saw him as a normal guy. But more mind-blowing was the open friendliness that was weaved through her acceptance. "Never give up on what you really want," she said.
What he really wanted? She probably imagined that his dreams were all about a career in professional football. They weren't. His dream was a lot more unreachable than that. His dream was to feel as if he belonged on this foreign planet.
And he wanted someone to share his life. Someone who knew his secret and still loved him. Someone like ... her. "Thanks," he said.
She smiled again, and it felt like a gift. She turned from him and walked away. As she did, he caught her murmur something under her breath.
"Be seeing you, farmboy."
Clark looked around for the person she'd been addressing. He couldn't see anyone who seemed to be taking any notice of the most stunning-looking woman in the vicinity. With a shrug, he began walking towards the locker room.
Nothing had gone right today. Lana had arrived, bringing his world of Smallville into contact with his world at college, and the meeting had been excruciating. He still had to face Lana. He knew from experience that, for them, 'talking' actually meant her firing accusations and him scrambling to defend himself.
But just a few moments with the unknown woman had alleviated everything he had endured that day. She'd told him not to give up on his dreams. He wouldn't give up. Somewhere on this planet, there had to be an extraordinary woman who could love an alien. Suddenly charged with new purpose, Clark lifted his head and strode to the locker room.
+-+-+-+
"Lois!" Clark hissed as he quickly grasped her shoulders and turned them, using his body as a barrier to anyone who might be watching. "You said you wouldn't speak to him."
His wife looked at him with eyes that were apologetic and fully mindful of his alarm but without a trace of regret. "I had to," she insisted quietly. "He looked so downhearted after Lana had finished with him."
"It was a risk," Clark said. But just as she understood his concern, he understood her need for action. Something deep inside him had identified strongly with the feelings of alienation so apparent in young Clark's body language. And, as Clark knew, Lois Lane was the only person who could assuage that loneliness.
"Do you remember this day?" Lois asked as her hand reached for his neck and her touch soothed him. "Do you remember Lana being here? Or did she brush you off so many times that all your memories have blurred into one nightmare?"
Clark smothered his smile at the hostility in Lois's voice. She really didn't like Lana, and that felt oddly satisfying. "I remember this day," he said. "Clark doesn't know it yet, but tomorrow Lana will finally lose patience with him, and they'll agree to taking a break in their relationship. It will be a permanent break."
"Good," Lois said with a grin. "So he's almost free of her. It's obvious she is not the right woman for him."
Her smile diluted the last of his uneasiness. "He doesn't know yet that he is the luckiest man on the planet," he said.
Lois caressed her husband's hair, just above his ear. "Luckier than you?"
"No," Clark said. "Because he's stuck in a team meeting, and I'm about to take the most beautiful woman in the world to our hotel room."
"To do what?" Lois asked innocently.
"If Wells hasn't arrived, I'm hoping to make long and luscious love with my wife - in passionate celebration that my days of being alone are over forever."
Lois sobered for a moment. "Thank you for bringing me," she said. "I really wanted to see him. And I'm sorry I broke my promise and went to speak to him, but I just couldn't help it. He looked so alone."
"He was feeling alone," Clark said. "It happened a lot. Until I met you."
"But things improved, didn't they?" Lois asked. "Getting Lana out of your life would have helped. And you certainly didn't look that isolated when I met you in Smallville."
"By then, I had learnt to hide it," Clark said. "But the yearning for a mate never diminished ... until I met you."
"You're not alone anymore," Lois said. "And if you take me to our hotel room, I'll show you." She kissed him with fiery provocation. "Let's fly, farmboy."
+-+-+-+
Paul Bender slid his coupe into a tight parking space across the road from the North-Western Hotel. It was Saturday afternoon. Lois would be at work.
And, if the man who was 'hiding something' was Clark Kent, he would be close by. Kent was attracted to Lane like a vulture to a carcass.
Paul reached into the glove compartment and removed a soft grey pouch. He took a moment to test its weight in his hand, marvelling that the contents - two small, insignificant-looking stones - could endow the holder with such power. As he exited his vehicle, he slid the pouch into his pants pocket.
The possibility that Superman had tracked him down didn't surprise Paul in the least. As he'd slithered through time, chipping away at the fabric of the nauseating goodness of Utopia, he'd always been prepared for the superhero to make an appearance at the least convenient moment possible.
Which was why he carried kryptonite.
Well, that was one reason. That it had such useful applications when travelling through time was a bonus.
Paul entered the lobby and fabricated his best smile. "Carol," he said. "How nice to finally meet you. I'm Paul Bender."
"Paul Bender?" she said. "The man Lois called this morning?"
"Yes, that's right. I'm her editor. She's mentioned you a lot - how much she appreciates you helping her settle into her job."
Carol's smile came with awkward disbelief. "Lois told you about me?"
"Of course," Paul gushed. "She thinks you're great." He stepped right up to the counter. "That's why I'm here. I need your help with a delicate situation, Carol. Lois has been having some trouble with a guest who came in recently. She thought he was a story, and he misinterpreted her interest for something else, if you get what I mean. So I need to find him and set him straight so he understands that he has to leave her alone."
"That would be Robert James," Carol said. "He's in room 518. I knew Lois was suspicious of him, but I didn't know he was causing her -"
"Thank you," Paul said. "You've been most helpful."
He turned and hurried up the stairs.
+-+-+-+
Lois ran her fingers across the just-revealed riches of Clark's chest, revelling in the tightness of his muscle curves. He was nuzzling into her neck, his hands exploring her back under her tee shirt.
A knock carved through the air. They groaned in unison.
"If that's Wells, tell him his timing sucks and to come back in half an hour," Lois grumbled.
Clark unfolded from her, picked up his shirt from the floor, and put it on in a blur of movement. He reached over to Lois and brushed his hand through her hair. He gave her a smile. "If it is Wells, we'll be back in Smallville, 1993, in a couple of minutes," he said. "We can continue our honeymoon there."
"Promise?" she said, taking a moment to appreciate the glazed look in his eyes, the tousling of his hair, the slight pinkness in his cheeks.
"Promise," he said. Clark opened the door.
Lois stared at the newcomer. He was familiar in a vague kind of way, but very different from the image of HG Wells that had formed in her mind. Brushing roughly past Clark, he stepped into the room and turned to face them.
"Who are you?" Lois said.
His smile was oddly disturbing. "Come now, Lois," he said. "Surely you recognise your first love."
"My first -"
"Paul Bender," he said lightly. "I'm crushed that you have forgotten me already."
Lois's mind was mottled with confusion but panic was tapping an increasingly insistent rhythm on her heart. "You're not Paul," she said. "You look a bit like him, but you're not Paul."
"Oh, dear," he said in melodic nonchalance. "The game's up. You're right of course, Lois, which is astounding coming from the woman who fills the history books with her own unique combination of blindness and stupidity. I'm Tempus, time-travelling crusader for supremacy to be returned to the rich, the strong, and the unmerciful."
Clark lunged forward and grabbed Tempus by his shoulders. He didn't resist the onslaught, but slid his hand into the pocket of his pants and withdrew a grey pouch. He flicked it open, unveiling a soft green glow. Clark gripped his chest, slumped to his knees, and fell to the floor, his face contorted with pain.
Lois rushed to her husband and knelt beside him, her hands frantically running over him in a fruitless quest to relieve his suffering.
Tempus chuckled as he addressed the writhing Clark. "You've surprised me, Superman," he said. "I didn't expect you would be imprudent enough to risk bringing Lois with you. Unless ... uhmm ... perhaps Herb's been holding out on me with a new advancement in mind-protection technology."
Lois looked up from Clark's agony. "Please take it away," she begged Tempus. "I'll do anything."
He nodded slowly. "Which is precisely why it's so satisfactory that you're here, Lois. These little rocks can control you just as effectively as they control him." As if to illustrate his point, Tempus stepped closer and held the chunks of kryptonite closer to Clark.
Lois sprung at Tempus, shoving him away. He grabbed her wrist, tightening his grip as his eyes crashed into hers. In that moment, she gleaned two truths - he was physically stronger than she was, and his thirst for destruction was even more powerful than his physical strength.
"Leave ... her ... alone," Clark gasped from the floor.
"No," Tempus said. "I'm going to leave you alone." He dragged Lois towards the door. "You're coming with me, Lois. We are going to walk down the stairs and through the lobby, and for once in your life, you're going to show some common sense and control your hankering for danger because if you even think about trying one of your infamous escape ploys, Superman will be dead within minutes."
"You can't kill him," Lois fired at him. "Not even with kryptonite. Trask tried."
Tempus held up a small vial of fluorescent green liquid. "Do you know what this is, Lois?" he asked. "No, I guess you wouldn't. It was developed after your time. Let me enlighten you. It's pure liquid kryptonite, over one thousand times stronger than the solid form." Tempus took a final look at his fallen foe. "Farewell, Superman," he said. He dropped one of the kryptonite rocks to the floor and kicked it, sending it crashing into Clark's knee.
"Please don't hurt her -"
Tempus cut off Clark's plea by dragging Lois through the door. She looked back at Clark and met his eyes. In them, she read so much - his pain, his appeal for her to be careful, and his promise that, wherever she was, he would find her.
The door slammed shut, severing their connection, and Tempus hurried her along the corridor. As they reached the stairs, he said, "You're quiet, Lois. Are you thinking about how far you're willing to test your hypothesis that your hero can't be killed?"
His self-satisfaction ignited her indignation. "You went back to the nineteen sixties and tried to kill Clark," she said. "What sort of a person tries to kill a baby?"
"A person who has endured Utopia," Tempus said wearily. "Alas, I was foiled by that eternal nuisance, Herbert George Wells."
"So why not just kill him now?" Lois said, feeling as if she were stepping onto the thinnest of ice, but unable to stop herself.
"Because this will be so much more fun."
His tone chilled her spine. "What are you going to do?"
"Eternally separate the union that forged Utopia," he said. "I'm most grateful that Kent brought you with him to 1985. It opens up such deliciously ironic possibilities."
Lois couldn't help but ask, "Such as?"
"Well," Tempus mused "I could take you back to 1940, so that when the baby alien arrives in 1966, you will already be well into middle age. The very noble Clark Kent would never allow himself to fall in love with a woman older than his mother." He glanced sideways at her. "Or I could you to 2010 - Clark might be already married to someone else. That could be fun. Or I could -"
"What about Clark?" Lois said. "What will happen to him?"
"That depends on him. He could stay in the room until he eventually dies from kryptonite exposure. He could attempt to escape. If he does that, of course, his first thought will be to save the lovely Lois."
Suddenly, Lois was sure she didn't want Clark to try to follow her.
"Your concern for the conquered hero is touching, Lois," Tempus continued. "Surely you haven't forgotten that there is still a Lois Lane in this time? I'm sure she'll come running to his aid."
"But she doesn't know he's Superman. She doesn't know -"
"What an intriguing geometric shape we will have then," Tempus said. "One Lois and two Clarks. One can be Superman; one can be Clark. But what will Lois do? She won't be able to choose one above the other, so all three will live in a state of perpetual anguish, and humanity will be saved from the scourge of Utopia."
Lois said nothing more. From the smugness of Tempus's manner, he considered her silence to be a victory to him.
They reached the first floor and hesitated at the entrance to the lobby. "Remember I have the vial, Lois," Tempus said. With a firm grip on her elbow, he hustled her across the lobby. Lois looked at Carol, but there was no recognition in the receptionist's gaze.
"Thanks for your help, Carol," Tempus said brightly. "It was just a little misunderstanding. It's all fixed now."
"But that's not Lois," Carol claimed. "She's gone with -"
Tempus responded with a wave as he pushed Lois through the door. He led her to a coupe, shoved her into the passenger seat, and took two lengths of rope from the glove compartment. "Sorry about this necessary indignity, Lois," he said. "I don't trust your ability to be reasonable."
He tied her wrists, knotting the rope tightly. As he bent to tie her ankles, Lois jerked her knees upwards.
His hands moved quickly to protect his face, and then he pushed her legs down. He leant heavily on her, pinning her while he tied her ankles. "I spent five years studying you," he said. "My reward for having managed to avoid dying of an overdose of goodness and honour is that I can now estimate your likely actions more accurately than you can." He finished tying her ankles and went to the driver's seat.
"You're evil," Lois said.
"And you are destined to live in a world without Superman," he retorted. "How I envy you."
"Please," Lois said. "Please let me go back to Clark. Please take the kryptonite away."
"I have planned this final downfall more times than you can imagine," Tempus said. "And I can assure you that taking away the kryptonite has never entered my thinking."
Begging him for leniency wasn't going to work. Perhaps it would be possible to distract him. "What were you doing to young Lois?"
"You think I hurt her?" Tempus said as he swung the car into the stream of traffic. "I'm crushed that you would think so badly of me, Lois."
"You were doing something to her. She was feeling sick."
"I bow to your superior investigative skills," he said with biting sarcasm. "Remember how much you liked root beer when you were in college? It was a fascinating piece of trivia I learned while studying your life. Then, you decided that soda wasn't good for you and stopped drinking it."
"*That* was in the history books?" Lois asked.
Tempus seemed to find her question amusing. "History books are just yesterday's newspapers edited to fit today's sensibilities," he said. "They don't keep secrets well. You should understand that."
But root beer? "I wouldn't have said I liked it all that much," Lois said. "I barely remember it as being important at all."
"Whatever," Tempus said dismissively. "Young Lois has been drinking it by the gallon. Perhaps she's doing it because she thinks it pleases Paul."
So her infatuation with Paul was in the books, too. "But you can't kill her with root beer," Lois said. "Not in the short term."
Tempus guffawed loudly. "That depends on what additives are in the root beer."
"You were poisoning her?"
"I love irony," he said. "And slowly killing Lois Lane with lead - the one thing that can protect Superman from his nemesis - was too irresistible."
"You put lead in the root beer?" Lois gasped.
"Yes, I did. And fed it to her, bottle by bottle. She drank it all. I do enjoy teenage Lois. Compared with later versions, she is remarkably compliant. Such a pity she degenerated into a hard-hitting career woman."
It suddenly occurred to Lois that Tempus might not know that Tony Green had tried to shoot Lois earlier that day. Should she tell him? Would that change anything? Buy her some time for Wells to arrive? Lois decided to stay silent for now - she might need that revelation at a more desperate time. "But you'll stop now," she said. "There's nothing to be gained from hurting her anymore."
"We'll see," he said. "I will come back to 1985 for a while. We couldn't have Lois heartsick over the unexplained disappearance of her love, could we? And her slow deterioration makes for intriguing entertainment. I do wonder how long it will take her to suspect that I'm not just a smoothly charming editor."
"You're sick."
"Yes," Tempus agreed readily. "I'm sick and tired of love and justice and all that Utopian trash that pollutes the future. That's why I'm here." He glanced at her. "I was in no hurry to kill young Lois. I figured Herb would eventually build another time machine. The longer it took, the greater my chance of a showdown with Superman."
"You *wanted* to meet Clark?"
"Of course," Tempus sniggered. "When a man has kryptonite, he need have no fear of Superman."
Lois said no more. She closed her eyes and imagined herself in the hotel room with Clark. Words formed and developed into a chant. Don't come, Clark. We'll find a way to be together. Don't come.
Tempus pulled into an alley and stopped at a small ramshackle building. He roughly lifted Lois from the car, flung her over his shoulder, and carried her to the entrance. After dropping her to her feet, he unlocked the door. When it swung open, he propelled her forward.
Before them was a vehicle that looked like large sled with two seats at the front and a huge clock rising like a circular sail at the back.
Tempus carried her to one of the two seats and then sat in the other. He flicked a few buttons, and a whirring sound arose from behind them as the vehicle shuddered. He pushed buttons, set dials, and then waited, his fingers tapping the control panel with impatience. "Wouldn't you think it would be possible to make a time machine that didn't need time to warm up?" he asked. "Typical of Herb, always misses the main point."
Lois tensed her body, testing the ropes that held her captive, only to quickly realise that it wasn't going to be possible to wriggle out of them.
They waited. Tempus hummed. They waited some more.
Then from behind, Lois heard the creak of the door opening. "Right on time," Tempus said as he jumped up from his seat.
Things happened quickly. Lois twisted to see Clark running towards them. Tempus leapt from his seat and tackled him. Clark stumbled and fell, grasping the back of the time machine. Tempus produced a small futuristic-looking weapon, held it against Clark's neck, and fired.
Lois screamed. Tempus pushed Clark's unconscious body into the vacant area of the platform in front of the clock and leapt into the driver's seat. "I knew he'd come," he said triumphantly. "How fitting that his last action was so quintessentially Clark Kent."
"You killed him?" Lois breathed, straining to see behind her. She could only see the lower part of Clark's body. He wasn't moving.
"Better than that," Tempus said. "Having stripped him of his invulnerability with the kryptonite, I then injected him with a wonder drug from the future - a drug that alters personality. You see, Ms Lane, I have granted your wish - Clark Kent will be with you, but he won't be the Clark Kent you know."
"You can't do that," Lois gasped. "You can't change Clark."
"The potion was superstrength - and I added a dash of red kryptonite to it. Are you familiar with the red form, Ms Lane?"
"No, I -"
"Then you've learned something new, and the trip isn't wasted," he said. "Red kryptonite doesn't affect Superman's body - it contaminates his mind. So, in the highly unlikely event that Clark realises he's not quite the man he once was, he won't care enough to attempt a return to his former lofty aspirations."
"You ... you can't do that," Lois spluttered.
"I can. And I have." Tempus grinned. "Hold on, Ms Lane. A new past awaits you."
"Where are we going?"
Tempus pushed a series of buttons. "Pick a year. Any year."
"I want to go back to 1993," Lois grated.
Tempus shook his head. "Too early," he said. "How about the year 2000? Right on the cusp of a new millennium. By then, you will have had enough time to detest the sight of each other because the Clark you endure will not be the Clark you love."
"Wherever you take us, I will be with Clark," Lois vowed. "I will find him if I have to. I will stay with him. I will love him. I will never give up on him."
Tempus's outburst of cold laughter was drowned out by the whirring of the time machine. The walls of the building blurred. The platform shook. Grey clouds, imbued with a spooky darkness, crept upon them.
After a few moments, light dawned slowly.
From the blur came the sound of gunfire.
One shot.
Next to her, Tempus slumped, blood seeping through his shirt.
His head lolled. His mouth dropped open. His eyes rolled back.
And he breathed no more.
