Thanks go to Sarahbookjunkie, Magali for providing guidance and feedback through the brainstorming process. Thanks to EllaBlue (Rayett on DI) for taking a stab at beta'ing the early draft of the story. She really helped me with the Harry Potter reference, and questions regarding narrative structure and story flow. Thanks to abbimorgan as I borrowed a character from her holiday fic. And thanks to Rachel for allowing me leeway on my story deadline and just encouraged me to finish it when I could ;)
First, since this story is so post Christmas/New Years, I decided that was where I would set it. Post holidays, a few weeks into 2010, and decided to make it the bookend to my other holiday story Trust Me. I've called it a pseudo sequel, it sort of is? I intend to make all my stories somewhat related and directly have some connection to each other. You don't have to read Trust Me, before this one, but there are at least two references to the previous story.

ACT I
Chapter 1 - Waking

Pain. There seemed to be a burning inside his head and emanating outwards. Garth's head was pounding and burning. That was the first thing he could feel. He tried to shake off the pain and clear his head. But what had happened? The team had been fighting? Everything felt obstructed within his memories. He was going to try and synch up and something had gone wrong. He'd turned around and turned his back on Tharok. Had Tharok done something to him?

His eyes opened with a start. Darkness. Was he dead? Had Tharok killed him? The momentary thought made him sad. There was so much left undone. Searching for Mekt and uniting his family and his duty to the Legion, but he'd let them down. As his eyes stared upwards, he blinked, his vision sharpening in the darkness. He could see stars above his head. So this is heaven? His mind tried to piece together the last moments of the battle. He and Rokk were setting up a synch-up on Tharok, Ultra-Boy and Imra were fighting Emerald Empress and Validus when he'd seen it. Mano had materialized behind Imra and was going to strike her with his hand. She would have been disintegrated had that happened and he had acted without hesitating as he'd aborted the synch-up and had ended up taking Mano's attack.

Only, he searched his memories, something had happened at the point of impact. His body hurt. That was puzzling? If he was dead, wouldn't he be without bodily pain?

"Easy there, Ron Weasley."

The voice cut through his thoughts like The Persuader's axe slicing thru organic matter. He blinked twice more, preparing himself - if he was dead, he was now going to be faced with his guide. He turned to find the owner of the voice he'd just heard.

"You've had a rough thirty-six hours. You were tossing back and forth in your sleep, calling girls names out in the midst of your nightmares." She stopped to stare at the young man blinking at her in disbelief.

He couldn't believe his eyes. It was as if the holo-images had come to life, for sitting right there next to him was truly an awe-inspiring sight.

"Ron?" she asked as she waved a hand in front of his face. "You okay there?"

"Do all angels look like you? Or is it really you?" he managed to whisper to her.

She smiled but ignored his question. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Pain," he said without thinking as he blinked his eyes again and tried to remember what happened. "Then darkness."

She studied his face, "Who hurt you?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. It was a huge fight. There were six of us against five of them and no one was really winning and we were going to do a synch-up, Rokk and I, that's our move we do together. We're getting pretty good at it too, but I stopped when I saw Mano about to kill Imra."

"Slow down. You're a soldier?" She put a hand on his shoulder.

He shook his head. "No, I'm in the legion."

"Legion? The Royal Canadian Legion, you barely look eighteen?" She asked intrigued.

"What?" He was thoroughly confused.

"Never mind. You were in a battle? And blacked out?" She drew closer to him.

"Yes. You're sure I'm not dead." He still wasn't sure whether or not he was.

She reached down and pinched his arm.

"Ow!" He rubbed his arm. "Why did you do that?"

She looked at him like he was from another planet. "To prove you were still alive."

"Oh, good. I really wasn't ready to die." Garth closed his eyes and sighed.

"Yep. You're alive," she said. "You're back in good old nineteen fifty-five."

"Oh no!" Panic began to set in. Nineteen fifty-five? That was impossible, yet, here it was, obviously possible. But still, that was impossible. He began to hyperventilate.

She grabbed his wrist and squeezed his hand tightly. His breathing slowed to normal as he stared up at her. "Relax. Sorry I'm just messing with you, Ron." She smiled at him, watching him blink his eyes as looked up at her. "It's the same year it was two days ago."

He sighed. Relief flowed thru him as he shut his eyes and laid his head back down.

"Yep. Good ol' two thousand and ten."

His eyes shot back open. "It's two thousand and ten? Not three thousand?"

"Nope. You didn't pull a Rip Van Winkle, it's still the same year." She patted his shoulder. "Can I get you something? Water maybe?"

He nodded and she left the room momentarily and returned with a glass of water. She handed it to him as he sat up and drank it. He stared at the woman, and blinked twice more, and rubbed his eyes, wondering if his vision would change the image before him. Evidently she was really here as absently reached down and rubbed his arm where she'd pinched him.

"It's really you isn't it?" He asked in a state of wonder.

She shook her head puzzled. "Who else would I be?"

He paused and thought it over. "I don't know."

"You've been out of it for over a day," She studied him carefully. "You sure you okay?"

He nodded and propped himself up on his elbows. "My head hurts some, my body feels like I've been sucked thru a Titan nebula, and apparently I'm being tested by having to face my greatest fantasy."

She looked at him confused. "Your greatest fantasy?"

"I mean, well, you are, you're…you know." He motioned with his head as if to indicate the obvious to her.

She smirked at him. This red headed boy was proving rather interesting. "I'm what?"

"You're Lois," he said in a breathy whisper full of awe and reverence. "The single most amazing woman in all the known galaxies and dimensions."

She laughed. "You must have really hit your head hard. I've barely made a name for myself in Metropolis."

He quickly calculated in his head, 2009, that was the year he, Rokk and Imra had visited Kal. Lana Lang had been there then? There had been no sign of Lois Lane when they'd visited. Only now here she was, more amazing than any of the holofiles he'd seen or souvenir photos sold at the Superman museum.

"Believe me," he gushed, "where I'm from, everyone knows who you are, everyone knows what you do. Everyone." He let out a squeaky, nervous, high-pitched laugh that trailed off into the darkness of the room.

"Everyone?" She asked curious at what he was hinting at.

"Yes, we're all big fans." He couldn't help but grin.

"You do know where you are?" She asked.

"The year two thousand and ten. I've been here before." His smile widened as she looked at him puzzled.

She blinked twice and looked around the room and glanced at her watch. "Smallville said he was going to be right back, that was twenty-five minutes ago."

"Smallville? Smallville, Kansas?" He asked, his ears perking up knowing exactly what Smallville meant.

Her head bobbed back and forth as she thought it over for a second. "Well, it is a part of Kansas. But it's a nickname too. Your cousin's nickname."

"My cousin?" He was puzzled. A cousin?

"Your cousin, Clark?" She said looking at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"My cousin is Clark? Clark Kent?" He could feel his jaw dropping. "The Clark Kent?"

"Uh, yeah." She shook her head again. "The one and only."

His mind tried to come to terms with what she'd just told him. Cousins? There was no way he was actually related to him, but what did it all mean?

"Who were those people you were talking about earlier?" She asked.

"What?" He asked.

"Man-Oh, Rock, Imra?" She raised her eyebrow at him. "They sound like members of a band or pro-wrestlers," she said with an offhanded gesture.

He sighed. "I suppose they are people from the future," he whispered with his eyes cast downward, wondering how he'd ended up a thousand years in the past. He looked up again. She was staring right at him or practically right through him. He felt the heat and intensity in her gaze, a puzzle to her and the worse part was that he absolutely loved it. Her hazel eyes sparkling at him, studying him as much as he was staring at her; Garth realized he kept getting lost in those eyes of hers. "You're more beautiful than any of the holofiles I've seen of you." He clapped his hand over his mouth quickly, realizing that last thought had been spoken outloud.

"Holofiles?" She asked ignoring his compliment.

"Um," he stalled, trying to reprimand himself for being so stupid as to bring up something that wouldn't exist for another three hundred years. "Pictures?" He asked her. He could vaguely remember Rokk telling him about the ancient 21st century methods of storing records in two-dimensional images that had just recently moved from paper to digital images stored on ancient electronic media devices.

He had laughed and called them ancient stone-age records, only he had stared hard at her image on more than one occasion. She, Lois Lane, the one who found the goodness in those who were different and helped mankind welcome alien life forms to the planet. The most amazing woman in the world married to Kal-El. The woman who Kal-El on more than one occasion, overcame death for, returned for to just hold her in his arms.

Garth had found all the stories rather romanticized fables growing up, until he'd met Kal-El in person last year. Kal-El, who had taught them to treasure life, to find any means necessary to save life rather than destroy it. He had studied her holo-image after that, the few rare video files that had survived of her public speaking, after nearly a lifetime of helping protect her husband's identity. She, the woman who gave hope to Winath that Earth would be a friendly planet to their species. And here he was, lying in a bed, staring at her, and he'd just told her she was beautiful? Rokk would definitely tell him he was acting like a complete sub.

He closed his eyes and sighed. The pounding in his head seemed to be dying down some. "I just meant," he started, trying to carefully choose his words, "that your," he had to catch himself again before he said holofile, "picture," he had done it, "does not do you proper justice."

She let a small laugh out.

"Do you want to get up? Maybe eat something?" She asked gesturing outside the room.

Almost in response his stomach growled and he looked up at her embarrassed.

"Come on, Ron. Follow me down to the kitchen." She turned and walked out of the bedroom.

Garth slipped out of bed, stumbled for a moment and righted himself against the door. What a strange and wild journey he thought to himself as he saw her looking back at him with concern. He nodded to reassure her that it was a momentary stumble and proceeded to follow her down the stairs as he held onto the railing.

A thought popped into his head as he watched her turn around at the bottom of the steps. "Why do you keep calling me, Ron?" he asked.