August 2009

Two attempted robberies. Three attempted muggings. One suspicious fire in a high-rise office building on 16th Street.

All in a night's work for Clark Kent these days. If nothing else, summer seemed to bring about a rise in crime in Metropolis. And the current heatwave baking the city only seemed to up the ante.

But unlike just a few months before, when he sought to bring hope to the citizens of the city, now he went about his work in isolation. Quietly. Coldly. Almost robotically.

Methodically.

A routine had formed, in the months since Doomsday had been buried beneath the Earth. The months since his friend, Jimmy, had been laid to rest.

The months since the woman he never knew he always wanted had been lost to him.

He barely slept, and when he did, it was in the place that mirrored his heart these days. The Fortress.

Cold. Lifeless. Solitary.

Heaven.

Her voice would often come unbidden to him as he lay there, waiting for sleep to take him over. And he had a sneaking suspicion that her long ago voiced opinion of this place she'd found herself in, unknowingly of course, was the other reason he sought refuge there in the few hours he allowed himself to wind down.

Lois never failed to surprise him, and yet, in that moment, when she'd described the place he'd come to resent so much as one where she'd felt safe and warm, she'd done it. As she always did, she made him take a look at things from a different angle, a different perspective.

It was odd that, while she didn't truly know what it was or who he was, she was the one to make him take a second look at the crystal structure that represented, to him, his differences.

And maybe that was ultimately why he gravitated to it in her absence. Because while it certainly offered the isolation he wanted, there was a piece of her there. He'd never brought her there, never told her about it, and yet, in her few semi-conscious moments in her palace of ice, he'd allowed her to take up residence.

After a couple hours of restless sleep, he'd get up. Gone were the primary colors, now replaced by black pants, shirt, and a long, black trench coat. Tired eyes would find the only memories he'd brought with him, leading him into the one part of his day where he'd allow himself to soften.

Two minutes. Each day, that was what he gave himself to miss them. To miss her. Openly.

A picture of Jimmy proudly grasping his camera that had been torn from the edition of the Planet that had run his obituary. A worn photo of his parents he'd taken from the farm.

And a small photo of her. The wedding photographer had caught her in an unguarded moment, beaming with wet eyes as she watched her little cousin say her vows. Not that he needed any reminder of how stunning she'd looked that day.

The small picture was tucked into the side of a frame. One of two things he'd taken from the Daily Planet when Tess had told him if he wasn't planning on coming back, then she was tossing his stuff and if he wanted any of it, he'd better take it.

Never would he forget the touched look on her face when he'd reluctantly shown her this frame, containing the rules of reporting she'd written down for him on his first day at the Planet. He'd blown it off somewhat, claiming it as a memento of his first day on the job, but admitting it was also a reminder that there was only Lois Lane.

But what he didn't tell her was that the moment she'd handed him that piece of notebook paper, misspellings and all, had meant more to him than just about anything.

He'd known, in her own bossy Lois way, she was looking out for him. Trying to share all she'd learned in the first few years of the career she'd come to love so much.

And if called on it, he was sure she'd simply roll her eyes and mutter something about simply not wanting him to embarrass her, but he knew better. She was sharing a part of herself with him, and that was no small thing considering the woman's walls were practically legendary.

So, each day, for two minutes, he'd let his tired, empty eyes meander over the small treasures he'd brought with him. Of the people who'd cared for him. Of the people he'd lost. Of the woman he hadn't let himself admit he was completely in love with until she'd disappeared from his world.

It was the one time he allowed his emotions to take over. A lump would form in his throat. His heart would twist painfully. Blue-green eyes would shine with wetness. Hands would gently grasp the now worn edges of the photos. Fingers would tenderly caress the face of the smiling maid of honor, wishing for nothing more than to feel her skin beneath them, rather than the cool, glossy photo paper.

Then, as if a mental timer were running in his head, he'd place the memories back in their resting place, swallow the lump in his throat, wipe roughly at his eyes. With resolve, he'd turn away from them, checking his jacket pocket for the one other item taken from his former workplace, speeding out of the Fortress and heading toward Metropolis.

To be the hero he felt he was destined to be.

He'd arrive back in the steaming city in the early afternoon, responding to anything he'd see or hear, a now black blur whipping through the streets, righting the wrongs in his path.

Those were his days now. Watching. Waiting. A one time check-in at the Watchtower, always making sure to tune in his superhearing first so as to avoid any encounters with a certain emerald archer. He'd show up, ask Chloe if anything big was happening, and speed back off, ignoring Chloe's heartfelt pleas to listen to her, to be a shoulder for her to cry on after losing her husband and her cousin.

He couldn't listen to it. Couldn't be that shoulder. Because while he'd accepted the reality of Jimmy's death, he refused to give up on Lois. No matter how Chloe tried to get him to, to get him to see reason as she put it, and move on.

Of course, even with her new Watchtower title, Chloe didn't know the whole story. And considering the events of the past few months, Clark was in no hurry to share it with her.

Hours of patrolling followed, keeping watch over the city from various rooftops, blurring off in an instant if he was needed or if he was about to be seen.

A lonely life. But it was routine. And it kept him from drowning in a sea of hope and grief. Hope that she'd soon be home. Grief that she wasn't already.

At about 9:30 each night, he'd start keeping an eye on the Planet, watching for the last of the reporters and interns to leave the basement, heading home to studio apartments and loved ones after a long days work.

When he saw the last person leave, he'd make his way inside.

While still keeping an ear out for signs of trouble, he'd gravitate toward the same place every night. He'd sit on the floor, leaning his back against the edge of the archway signaling the entrance to the basement bullpen. It gave him the perfect view.

And reaching down, his hand would find the one other item he'd taken from his desk.

A black box.

Three Months Earlier

"Well, look who decided to show up. I realize with your unique gifts, you probably think you can do anything you want, but here? You're a copy boy. Show up for work or you're fired."

Tess' change in attitude toward him should have surprised him, yet the numbness that had invaded his body, his soul, didn't allow for any shock or wariness to register.

"You don't have to fire me," he said, his voice rough and tired, "I quit."

Her eyes widened briefly, clearly not having expected that from him. Recovering, she simply gestured toward his desk.

"Fine. You're not coming back? Get your stuff out of here in the next 10 minutes or it's getting thrown in the dumpster out back," she said sharply, before turning and stalking off toward the elevator. Right before she reached out to press the button, though, she turned back toward him. "It's a shame, Kent. Someone like you could have been a very valuable asset."

"To the paper, right?" he sneered, remembering all too well the hero worship Tess tried to force upon him.

Smiling saccharinely, she simply nodded. "Of course. To the paper."

Not wanting to dignify anything more Tess said with a response, he turned back to his desk, for the first time noticing that its contents had been piled unceremoniously on top of it.

He didn't want much, most of what was there had been basic desk supplies, which he had no use for anymore.

No. He'd only come here for one thing. Gently shoving papers, folders, and a pile of pens aside, he saw the edge of the wooden frame, quickly brushing everything on top of it away before grasping it in his fingers like a starving man clutching at the first available piece of bread.

Just re-reading her words, remembering the look on her face when she'd held it that night, he felt his eyes begin to burn with a wetness he only allowed himself for a precious few minutes each morning. He blinked hard, refusing to allow himself even the tiniest moment of weakness, especially here, amid the bustling basement of the Daily Planet.

He carefully placed the frame in his pocket, intending to turn and leave this place forever, when he spotted it.

The black box. The same box Rokk had given him, containing the Legion ring. The ring he hadn't intended to use, and had simply placed in his desk.

How had he missed it before?

Quick as lightning, he snatched it up, flipping open the lid.

Empty.

Trying to ignore the wave of nausea that was sweeping through his stomach, he whirled around, seeing Tess step into the empty elevator, and, as fast as he could without using his superspeed, he followed her in.

"Want your job back so soon?"

Pushing the box quickly into his other pocket, he responded, "I want to know who's been going through my desk."

"And of course, you assume it's me."

"I don't assume anything. You're the boss here, that's why I'm asking."

"Clark, I don't have time for this. Besides, I'm sure no one was going through your desk. We do have a supply room here, you know, it's not like anyone would need to steal from the copy boy."

"Then why were my things all over the top of my desk?"

He caught the flicker of recognition in her eyes, before she quickly covered, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Oh, that."

Clark stood silently, a raised eyebrow her only cue to continue.

"Blame your partner in crime. If you can find her anyway."

His hand clenched into a fist, an attempt to control the anger that was beginning to build inside of him. He saw Tess take a step away from him, picking up on the dangerous emotion that he apparently wasn't doing a very good job of hiding.

Turning, he took one large stride over the control panel, slapping the "stop" button, before turning back to a clearly nervous Tess.

"What do you know about Lois?" he asked, the barely repressed fury coloring his voice.

"Well, I don't know where she is, if that's what you're asking," Tess responded, attempting nonchalance but failing miserably.

Taking a step toward her, causing Tess to shrink back against the rear of the elevator, he said lowly, "Tell me everything."

"There's not much to tell."

"I'll be the judge of that."

With a huff, she began. "I caught her snooping where she shouldn't have been. Though I guess that's no surprise. She started giving me attitude, threatening me to fire her, because, according to her anyway, she'd only been looking for Chloe."

"You didn't believe her," he stated rather than asked.

Relaxing just a bit, Tess met his glare with her own. "The first time I met her, she'd broken into the Luthor mansion and was rifling around the place, now I find out she's taking a sneak peek at the files on my computer? No, I didn't believe her. Though I'm sure you do."

Not rising to her obvious attempt at baiting him, Clark, his voice icily calm, replied, "Tell me what happened next."

Averting her eyes and slightly shrugging her shoulders, Tess responded, "We got into a fight. And let me tell you, your little girlfriend fights dirty."

Slightly surprised, Clark blinked quickly, Tess' words sinking in.

"Your desk," Tess continued, "and a few others, were shoved around in the process. So, that's why your things are piled on your desk. They're still there because neither you, or Lois, has bothered to show up the for last week."

His breathing quickened slightly, imagining the fight between them being violent enough to displace the furniture in the basement. Flashing eyes shot up, and a quick arm reached out and grabbed Tess' arm.

"Did you hurt her?"

He knew Lois could handle herself, more than handle herself actually. But Tess couldn't be trusted. And she hated Lois.

"No more than she hurt me," Tess spat, yanking her arm out of Clark's grasp.

"She's missing Tess, and so help me, if I find out you did something to her…"

"Clark, we knocked each other around okay? And if it's any comfort to you, she got the parting shot."

"What do you mean?"

"Well the last thing I remember is her whirling around with some black box in her hand, and she smacked me in the head with it."

Clark's eyes widened at the mention of the item currently hiding in his coat pocket.

"She knocked you out?"

"Yes, she did."

"And when you woke up?" he asked hurriedly.

"Gee, your concern for me is astounding," Tess snarked, glaring at Clark. "When I woke up, she was gone."

"What about the box?"

"What about it?"

"Did you see it?"

Tess' eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"

"Just answer the question," he demanded.

She nodded. "I saw it."

His heart was pounding in his chest, an idea beginning to formulate in his mind, the first glimmer of hope beginning to stir in his heart. The first he'd felt in the last week, since he'd left Chloe at the Watchtower. Since he'd watched his friend laid to rest from afar. Since he'd scoured the globe twice searching for any sign of her.

This might explain why there was none.

"And?"

"And what? It was an empty black box, Clark."

So, there it was.

After he'd left a confused Tess in the elevator, he'd contemplated whether she knew more than she was saying.

But somehow…deep in a heart that had been shattered by disillusion and grief, he knew.

Tess had no idea of the contents that box once held.

He'd scoured the Planet using his x-ray vision, looking for any sign of the ring Rokk had given him the night before his fight with Doomsday.

And he'd found nothing.

He couldn't prove it, but as he'd stood on the roof of the Daily Planet later that night and looked out on a darkened Metropolis, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Lois had found the ring. It had somehow made its way onto her finger. And she had disappeared.

Suddenly, everything made sense. It was why he couldn't find a single trace of her anywhere in the world. It was why he couldn't hear her voice, her breathing, her heartbeat.

She was no longer in his time.

A range of emotions had followed. Hope. Relief. Fear.

Fear being the strongest, at least at first.

Fear of her being lost to his time forever. Fear that she wouldn't be able to get home.

Helplessness had quickly followed. His abilities had never seemed so inconsequential as in those moments when he'd realized that there was not a damn thing he could do to bring her home to him.

Frustration was the next order of business, his mind racing to try and figure out something, anything he could do to help her. The Fortress was barely functional, and without a Legion ring of his own, he was unable to contact Rokk for assistance.

It was the thought of the young man from the future that had begun to give Clark something to hold onto. Recalling that night on the roof of the Daily Planet, he'd remembered Rokk's words regarding the ring, and sending Doomsday to 3009.

Since he hadn't mentioned Clark accompanying the monster, he had to believe the ring itself was programmed to send the wearer to that very year. And with Rokk's proclamation that the Legion would be waiting, well, he allowed himself the tiniest bit of hope that they'd found her.

After all, they knew who she was, they'd mentioned her during their first foray back in time to Smallville.

Then why isn't she back yet?

That was the question.

For a man who had all but given up any shred of human emotion, with the exception being the few minutes he allowed himself to grieve and remember, the faith he had put in his theory was astonishing. Even he could acknowledge that.

It was this faith, this theory that drove him to the deserted Daily Planet basement each night, the black box tucked safely in his pocket.

If he believed Lois had been sent to 3009, and at this point he had nothing else to believe, then he had to think the Legion had found her.

And that they'd send her back.

But he also knew Rokk's wariness in dealing with time travel, so perhaps if she wasn't back yet, there was a reason. Rokk, in Clark's mind, was simply trying to find the right moment to send her back. A moment where the disruptions her return could potentially cause would be would be minimal.

Why here?

This was the place she'd disappeared from, therefore, in his mind, this was the place where Rokk would send her back.

So he kept vigil, every night, believing that the Legion members would return her to a deserted Daily Planet, so as not to arouse any suspicion, to avoid anyone, especially Lois, having to make any strange explanations.

Sure, he kept a close ear on the city, rushing out and back quickly if he was needed, but otherwise, the hours between roughly 10 PM and 7:00AM found him sitting in the same spot in the dark basement.

Waiting for her.

Because he may not be able to be her hero this time, but he sure as hell was going to make sure she wasn't alone when she was finally sent back.

It'd been three months that this daily routine had been followed. He'd leave when he heard the first signs of life entering the Planet, blurring back to the Fortress for a few hours sleep, before starting all over again.

Three months. And he'd continue to do it until she returned. Until he was proven right. She was alive, and she would be coming home.

Even if he was the only one who still believed that.

His first night there he'd spent reorganizing her desk from the mess that had been left on top, much like had been done to his. Trying to make some order out of the chaos, wanting everything to be exactly as she liked it when she returned to her job at the Planet.

After that, though, the nights dragged. Every sound, every flash of light from the windows made him twitch, expecting that to be the moment she reappeared. But when it was silent, when there was no light to draw his attention, he was forced to listen to his own thoughts.

What if she's never sent back?

What if she's hurt?

What if the Legion never found her?

What if I'm wrong?

And then, the question that he couldn't, or more to the point, wouldn't answer for himself.

What happens when she comes home?

He'd fully embraced his Kryptonian side. Clark Kent was all but dead. Human emotions, they were too tricky, too dangerous. People got hurt, people got killed.

And even though he'd allowed himself the hope that she'd be sent back, what did that mean once she was back?

Her being home, did it change things?

Or, was her being around even more dangerous for him? Lois, she was one who inspired passion, who brought about strong feelings in anyone she encountered.

Including him.

Could he just turn off his feelings for her, the connection he felt to her?

Could he walk away? For her? For him? For the good of the world?

Or could he trust himself to freely feel what he did for her, and still be able to do what he had to do to keep the world safe?

Those were the questions that raced through his head during the long nights he sat vigil. Waiting.

Questions that had no answers. Questions he wouldn't let himself answer. Questions, he told himself, he would know the answer to when she was home again.

Three months. Three long months of sitting. Watching. Waiting. Of unanswered questions. Of anxiety.

Of hope.

The sounds of the city on this particular hot summer night had dimmed as the hours drifted by. A few cars driving by. Some late night pub crawlers drunkenly finding their way home.

Clark closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. Sighing loudly, he opened them, his eyes finding her desk.

Her nameplate caught a ray of light from the high window. Tess had blustered about replacing her, but apparently hadn't seen fit to do it yet. While that surprised Clark, on some level it didn't. Tess was one to keep her enemies closer, and when Lois showed back up, he had no doubt that Tess would make sure to keep Lois under her watchful eye.

Which, he thought as the slightest of grins touched his lips, Lois would absolutely see as a challenge.

He reached up, rubbing at his tired eyes, feeling about three days' worth of stubble that had grown along his jawline.

Even in the dark, where the furniture was outlined only in shadow created by the city's streetlights streaming into through the basement windows, he could see her everywhere. Memories, flashes of moments that they'd shared, tornadoed through his brain as he glanced around the darkened room.

"Thanks for helping me break the story, Clark."

"What reality stars you as my knight in shining armor?"

"I'm just Lois Lane, the girl who writes about it."

"…a little less sweet vanilla and a lot more wild cherry."

He remembered the bright reddish-pink blouse she'd been wearing when she'd uttered that relationship advice, the irony not escaping him, even if he didn't admit it to himself until months after the fact.

Bringing his knees up, he rested his arms on them, dropping his head and letting out a weary sigh.

And that was when he finally saw it. What he'd been waiting for.

A flash so bright that even though he was looking down at the floor through semi-folded arms, it still practically blinded him.

A muffled groan met his ears before his eyes once again adjusted to the darkness. His breathing picked up, he could feel his heart pounding fiercely in his chest, as the slow moving form of the one he'd been waiting for began to stir ever so slightly.

Frozen, he was, unable to believe he wasn't dreaming. Terrified that he was. He watched, umoving, unblinking, as she began to push herself up on one arm.

"What the hell?" he heard her mutter, the anxiety clear in her hushed voice.

For whatever reason, it was that that snapped him into action. Within a split second, he was by her side, sitting next to her, his hand tentatively reaching out to touch the mass of brown locks that cascaded down her shoulders. He could hear the rapid, anxious breaths escaping her lips.

"Lois?"

His tone was soft, almost hesitant, not wanting to scare her.

"Clark?" she whispered, her eyes adjusting to the darkness as her gaze rose to meet his. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glint of gold, and reached out to snatch the Legion ring that had fallen to the floor during the course of her movements. He shoved it into his pocket, then placed his hand on her arm, seeing her beginning to be a bit unsteady.

He felt her eyes roam over his face, noting the quirk in her eyebrows as she did so, the concern beginning to creep into her features. Her fingers found his face, gently brushing over the scruffy five o'clock shadow adorning his chin.

"You look like hell, Smallville."

And just like that, hearing the nickname that had once been an annoyance but somewhere along the way had become something that meant more to him than he could ever put into words, he scooped her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly and burying his face in her soft curls.

She stiffened slightly at first, but after a moment, he felt her relax into him. One hand gently stroked his back, while the other tangled in his messy, slightly overgrown hair.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Her heartbeat against his chest, her breathing having calmed, the warm skin of her neck against his rough cheek. His awareness consisted of only those things.

"Clark?" he heard her question softly into his ear. "What's going on?"

Hearing the anxiety in her voice caused him to tighten his arms around her, instinctively pulling her closer.

There was so much to tell her. Good and bad. And of course, they would have to deal with what had happened to her.

But somehow, and he knew it was selfish, he just wasn't ready to deal with it yet. There would be time. Time for relief for her cousin who'd been found. Time for grief over her friend that had been killed. Time for inquisitiveness over the millions of questions he knew she'd have, questions that he wasn't even sure he'd be able to answer.

"Later," he whispered roughly. "I promise Lois. Just…just a few minutes, okay?"

Because all that mattered now was this. The months he'd sat vigil in the deserted basement had led to this moment, the moment he finally held her safe in his arms.

She was home.

And, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, so was he.