A/N: Thanks to everyone for the feedback! I have NO idea if what I wrote here regarding the kryptonite would actually happen, but let's just say it's creative license lol, enjoy!

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October 2009

It was a strange feeling, walking up the steps to the loft. Really, she'd been there only hours before, working on the final preparations of the plan. But, being here now? It felt like she hadn't been here in years.

And, Lois supposed, in a way she hadn't.

In her time, Clark's grown man's clubhouse, as she called it – complete with her typically teasing eyebrow quirk - was more a place where he kept his memories of his life in Smallville. A trunk filled with his football trophies and jerseys, yearbooks, and family photo albums sat near the well-worn sofa. His old telescope once again took up residence by the window, and she smiled, remembering the many times he'd stood at the window with her, pointing out the different constellations in the sky, his voice soft in her ear and one arm snugly wrapped around her ever-expanding waist.

The only exception to his memory-keeping there were the framed pictures that littered the desk and old tables. Those were more current than the other past treasures that resided there, reminders of the important people in his life. Their wedding picture. A picture of his parents, next to a picture of the two of them with Martha. A framed photo of Lana and Pete on their wedding day, as well as one of Chloe and Bart, sat on one of the tables. An older snapshot of her with her arm around a wet Shelby, looking as if she was about to sneeze (it was Clark's favorite), sat on the table near the window, along with a photo of Oliver and Dinah from their engagement party. There was a shot of her, Clark, Jimmy, and Perry from the day that they'd won a local award for their first Intergang story, alongside her favorite photo, one she'd taken herself, of Clark, AC, Oliver, and Bart in the midst of a serious round of Guitar Hero.

The pictures that riddled the loft she now stood in, one seven years earlier than the one she'd become so used to, told a bit of a different story.

Her eyes scanned each and every one. One of her, Clark, and Chloe. One of her, Clark, and Jimmy. One of her and Martha. One of her and Chloe. One of her and Shelby. In fact, the only one she didn't appear in was the photo of his parents, the same one that still occupied the same spot in 2016.

Despite the stress of her current situation, she couldn't help but giggle. Clearly Smallville was still in the denial stage of their relationship. He probably didn't even realize the common denominator of all the pictures he had all over the loft, but that was his way. It was the same way he'd kept a framed copy of her rules of reporting in his desk drawer at the Planet the first year they'd worked together, or how he knew her daily routine practically down to the minute. They were things he did unconsciously, not being able to really admit to himself the reason behind them.

But he would. Eventually.

"Always was a little slow on the uptake," she murmured, an affectionate grin on her face as she sunk down onto the comfortable old sofa.

Closing her eyes, a sigh escaped her lips.

If the situation hadn't been so serious, she might have chuckled at the memory of the look on Mrs. Kent's face when Clark had stepped aside in front of her and revealed her…condition.

She had to give her credit though. Mrs. K. had taken the story pretty much in stride, aside from the wide-eyes and hints of confusion in her expression. Though, Lois supposed, after finding a little alien boy in a spaceship during a meteor shower, there probably wasn't much that would surprise Martha Kent anymore.

Not that it had been an easy conversation. She'd obviously already been quite an influence on Clark's investigative reporting skills, as he'd chimed in with comments and questions designed to try and get her to give up more information.

Of course, it hadn't helped that she'd almost slipped a time or two and referred to Martha as "mom", only covering just in time and stumbling out a "Mrs. K.".

The thing was, she hated lying to them, two of the most important people in her life. Granted, she knew she had little choice, and really, she wasn't lying so much as omitting, but still, it didn't make it any easier.

So, after about an hour of carefully worded conversation, Lois had excused herself, hoping some fresh air would clear her head a bit as well as needing to get away from Clark's inquisitive and worried gaze.

She had to think.

Feeling tendrils of anxiety beginning to weave their way through her stomach, she brought a hand to her forehead, the other gently rubbing her stomach in small circles.

What had happened?

They'd followed the instructions given to them to the letter. And it partly worked, she'd ended up in the past.

But why here? It certainly wasn't anywhere near the time destination they'd planned.

If only she could talk to Jor-El, she thought, mentally berating her past self for not getting on Clark to get the Fortress up and running again sooner. And it wasn't like she could just go ask Clark to rebuild it, as that would definitely send up a zillion red flags and bring about many questions she was sure she couldn't answer.

Although…perhaps she could hint at it. Mention it in passing, hint that at some point in the future, he'd get the Fortress back online, and that he'd learn to love it there. She'd just leave the part about it being one of her her favorite places, the one place in the world they seemed to be able to get away from it all and just be together, as well.

"At this stage of the game, though, hints might not be enough," she mumbled to herself, but then quickly slapped a hand over her mouth.

No doubt Mr. Overprotective-And-Curious was in the kitchen with his ears focused on her. And while, in her time, the knowledge that his superhearing was tuned into her, into her heartbeat, was not only comforting but endearingly romantic, at the moment, it was a bit annoying. She needed to talk things out to herself, it was one of her 'habits' when dealing with a story that didn't make sense or a problem that perplexed her.

But clearly, that coping strategy was out the window. She couldn't chance saying anything that would give future tidbits away.

Frustrated and more than a little tense, her eyes fell on the desk across from her. It was littered with papers. Though Lois knew, in this time, Clark didn't live at the farm anymore, he did still spend a lot of time there, and he liked to keep all of the research he'd done into the caves, into his home planet, here in the loft rather than in his apartment in Metropolis as a precaution.

Perhaps there was something in all of his findings that could explain things? Biting the side of her lip, she got up, and in two quick strides was in front of the desk, her hands rifling quickly through the papers. She opened the top left drawer, pulling out the objects and scanning them quickly. A box she set down on the edge of the desk, a notebook she quickly flipped through, a few pens and pencils.

Blowing her hair out of her face, she tossed the notebook and pens down before reaching into the middle drawer, her hands finding a thick stack of papers. She took them out, her eyes scanning each sheet before setting it down haphazardly on the desk. Vaguely, she registered a soft thump next to her, her eyes flickering down and noticing the box she'd placed there earlier had fallen to the floor. Shrugging briefly, her focus returned to the papers, her finger running down each one, eyes looking for any symbols pictured near the entrance to the portal. The same place where Clark had found her earlier tonight.

A wave of nausea shot through her suddenly. Swallowing hard, one hand drifted to her stomach.

"Easy there, baby," she whispered. A few moments later, she was rocked by another wave, this time accompanied by a searing flash of pain. Closing her eyes, she exhaled loudly, feeling beads of sweat begin to emerge on her forehead. Her hand gripped the edge of the desk as another stabbing pain racked her body.

She sank down to the floor, her body leaning heavily against the side of the desk. Her arm curled protectively against her belly.

Her breathing, now more of a harsh pant as the almost crippling cramp-like aches continued to torment her, mixed with an occasional small whimper. As her own soft moan of pain hit her ears, one thought occurred to her.

She'd felt like this before.

Once.

With sudden clarity, even in the midst of her agony, she knew what the problem was. Willing herself to pry open her eyes, they immediately fell on the box that had dropped. And opened.

A faint green glow emanated from underneath the opened box. She could feel her heart thundering in her chest as she braced her foot against the leg of the old desk, trying to push herself away. With both arms now wrapped around her stomach, as if to shield the innocent life growing in there, the product of such unimaginable love, she tried in vain one more time to distance herself from the source of her pain.

She knew, from experience, if she could just get far enough away…

It felt like hours though in reality it had been a couple of minutes at most, and panic was beginning to rise in her the longer her child was exposed.

Her eyes falling closed once more, she rested her head against the desk.

There was only one thing to do.

"Clark," she whispered, her voice hoarse with pain. "I need your mother."

**

The kitchen door swung close, leaving a stunned Martha Kent and a worried Clark in its wake.

"You really think it's okay for her to head out to the barn alone?"

"Clark, she's pregnant. Not helpless. Walking is allowed," Martha said gently, slightly amused at her son's obvious protectiveness over the future Lois.

The future Lois.

Yeah, she was still wrapping her mind around that one.

"You okay?" Clark asked, watching as his mother seemed to process the situation that had arrived on her doorstep.

"I thought I'd seen everything, but I guess everything is relative when you live in Smallville," she responded wryly. "How about you?"

"I'd feel a lot better if I knew where Lois ended up."

"You don't think she ended up in this Lois' time?"

"Maybe she did, but there's no way to know for sure. What if she's hurt?"

"Honey, I know it's hard, but think of it this way. You found this Lois unharmed, and she's in a far more delicate state than our Lois was."

A grin tugged at the corner of Clark's lips. "That might be the only time anyone uses the word delicate to describe Lois."

Martha chuckled at that, her hand coming up to rub her forehead gently.

"Well this has been quite a night."

She looked up, noticing the far off look in her son's eyes.

"You're listening to her, aren't you?"

"I just want to make sure she's okay."

She reached over, covering his hand with hers.

"You're a good friend, Clark."

Meeting his mother's eyes, he smiled sadly. "Yeah, that's me. Lois' good friend."

She squeezed his hand gently, the glimmer of sadness she'd seen in his eyes since he'd first brought Lois into the house now a bit more pronounced.

For some time, Martha had suspected her son's feelings for Lois had grown significantly and veered sharply into romantic territory. Of course, he'd deny it if she ever broached the subject, insisting they were nothing more than friends and that Lois drove him absolutely crazy on the best of days. But the sparkle in his eyes when he was around her, the way he seemed to relax and smile in her presence, the very prevalent 'puppy dog eyes' often directed her way, not to mention the accumulation of framed pictures, all coincidentally starring Lois, she'd seen springing up each time she returned to the farm. It was obvious to her that, while firmly in denial, her son had fallen in love with the feisty Miss Lane.

And she couldn't have been happier. Until this moment, seeing the clear heartbreak on her son's face though he was trying to hide it.

"She seems happy, doesn't she?" he asked quietly.

A bit reluctantly, Martha nodded. "She does."

"I just hope the guy deserves her."

"As her friend, you'll just have to make sure of that."

Standing up, she walked over to Clark, placing a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"And that's what you have to remember Clark. You are still her friend. And obviously a good one, if you were helping her in the future with what appears to be a very serious situation."

Clark nodded, swallowing hard before continuing. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

"Lois, she…somehow became my best friend."

"That's a good thing, Clark."

"Yeah…it's just…I guess I didn't realize how much I wanted…" he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck roughly before again finding his voice, "How much I wanted to be more than that, until tonight. When I found out I wasn't gonna be."

Her heart broke at his words, not only for the pain her son was in, but because she'd always harbored the hope herself that the brash young woman that had stormed into their lives like a force of nature would one day officially become a Kent. Though in Martha's heart, she'd been one unofficially for years.

"But she's still in your life, honey. Years from now, you still have Lois. It may not be the way you'd hoped, but she's there. And that's what matters."

Leaning over, he placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, mom."

"That's what I'm here for."

He ran his hand through his hair, an air of frustration suddenly emanating from him. "I just wish there was something I could do."

"I know…but really, until or unless Lois tells us anything more, our hands are tied."

"Maybe I could go back to the cave, look for any….," he stopped suddenly, his head snapping suddenly in the direction of the barn.

"Clark? What's wrong?"

"Her heart's speeding up," he said absently.

"Honey, she's under a lot of stress right now, I'm sure it's a natural reaction."

"Maybe I should go check on her," he said, turning to head toward the door. Within a moment, though, he'd turned back toward her and, without warning, scooped his mother up in his arms.

"Clark!"

"She needs you, Mom," he said, before speeding off in the direction of the barn.

**

Clark stopped at the foot of the steps to the loft, gently setting his mother down on the floor. She was a few steps ahead of him as quickly jogged up the steps. When she stopped short at the top, he heard the worry clearly in her voice.

"Oh my God. Lois, what's wrong?"

She disappeared from his view momentarily, until he reached the top step himself. His searching eyes found Lois, anxiety squeezing his heart at the sight of her crumpled in pain, her arms crossed in a protective manner over her swollen stomach.

He took a step toward her, when he himself was struck by a stabbing pain. A pain that was all too familiar to him, a pain he'd felt far too many times in his life. Falling to his knees, the breath practically knocked out of him, he attempted to brace himself on the floor with his hands, trying to push himself away from the glowing green rock he could see a mere few feet away.

"Lois," he heard his mother say, "Is it the baby?"

Even in the midst of his own agony, he could hear her panting, could hear the fear in her voice as she managed to mumble an answer to his mother.

"The rock," she moaned quietly.

He opened his eyes, finding his mother and reading her confused look. She looked back, her eyes meeting his, and they widened in surprised as she took in the sight of her son doubled over in pain. He glanced toward the direction of the faint green light coming from below the opened lead box, and in immediate understanding, his mother sprang toward it, gathering the rock in her hand and shoving it inside the box, snapping it shut.

For the next few moments, the only sounds he heard were the slowing of Lois' heart and the calming of her breathing. Clark lifted himself slightly, turning a bit so he could sit with his back against the railing. Feeling his own pain subside, he took a deep breath in, wiping at the sweat that had emerged on his forehead.

He blinked a few times, refocusing himself, finally taking in the scene before him. Lois was now sitting a bit straighter, her eyes open but fixed on the wooden floor beneath her. His mother's gaze was fixed on Lois, her eyes narrowing in confusion. After a moment, they dropped to the lead box still in her hands, then snapped back up to Lois, her mouth now agape.

"Oh, Lois," she whispered, then placed the box down and crawled quickly over to the young woman, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and placing a tentative hand on her belly. Slowly, Lois raised her head, smiling slightly at the older woman, and reached down to place a hand over hers.

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion not only at the sight in front of him, but at the events of the last few minutes. The sound of his mother's soft laughter filtered through his muddled thoughts, his blue-green orbs shifting their attention momentarily to the lead box his mother had placed on the floor.

"Lois," he said, "since when are you allergic to meteor rock?"

As the words left his mouth, he found himself looking once again at the two women in front of him, the smiles on their faces, their joined hands resting on Lois' belly.

And just like that, his question seemed absolutely pointless.

Because it wasn't Lois who was sensitive to the Kryptonite.

His jaw dropped in utter shock as Lois' eyes finally found his. A crooked smile formed on her face, and she took one last glance at his mother before uttering one, simple word.

"Surprise."