One chapter to go (after this).

Part 9: Mobius

"Happy love has no history" - DeRougemont

Jonathan Kent wasn't thirsty. But when his wife pulled the old copper kettle off the stove and poured them each a cup of tea, he stirred in a spoonful of honey and drank it just the same.

"It isn't right, Martha," he said, finally. "And I think it's time we stop pretending that it is."

Martha eyed him wearily over the rim of her cup, as if trying to decide whether or not he had really just broken their unspoken agreement. She set her tea down and reached for his hand across the kitchen table.

"He just needs time," she assured him, rubbing her thumb along his palm.

Jonathan shook his head. "It's been a week. Seven days and he hasn't moved from that spot."

"He's grieving."

"I understand that. Lois' death was a shock for us all." He paused briefly and cast a look out the window towards the barn. The loft's light burned on in the darkness. "I ran into Gabe Sullivan down at Jacob's Hardware and even Chloe's gone back to school. Lois was her cousin. She was barely an acquaintance to our son."

Martha's reassuring smile faltered into something tighter. More serious. "I think she may have been more than that," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Clark did have her over the night we were visiting your sister."

Jonathan nodded, remembering the phone call that had revealed the unexpected fact. "To help with her history report," he said. His wife gave him that look, the one that told him he had flown right past the obvious. He frowned. "There was no history report?"

"When I asked Lois about it the next day she looked at me like I had lost my mind. She must have forgotten the story she and Clark had cooked up."

"So you think something may have been going on with those two?"

Martha shrugged. "It's possible."

A line twitched between his eyebrows as he considered this new piece of information. "There's something else. Something he's not telling us."

Martha looked at him, surprised. "Clark would never keep anything from us," she said.

"He's right."

The two turned to find their son in the doorway. Exhausted and broken. A distant echo of his former self.

"There's something that you need to know."


It helped to keep moving.

When she was actively doing, she got a reprieve from thinking. It was thinking that led to self doubt and guilt. It was thinking that reminded her that she was the reason her cousin was no longer around. And it was thinking that made her tired and anxious, and worst of all, useless.

She had decided, finally, that she was too strong for that.

Chloe threw her school bag on the couch and went to her room. She dropped to her knees and fished out the blue gingham nesting box from under her bed. Cracking the lid, she pulled out the Daily Planet issue that rested on top of the heap.

It was the June 25th edition. Lois' headline had nabbed the coveted front page; Financier Tied To Attempt on Governor's Life. Shortly after Lana had given her some of Lois' old articles, Chloe had fallen in love with each and every one. But that one - well, that one was her favorite.

It wasn't so much the article itself that struck a chord, but the story behind it.

It was the height of the Metropolis gubernatorial race and Lois had received a tip that went sour, leading her source to be exposed and murdered. The Planet was sued for libel and Lois lost her job. Lana said that in all the years she had known her, she had never seen Lois so lost. She was missing in action for days, sending the rest of them into a frenzy. Clark was tearing his hair out. Chloe had even gone to the police.

And then it happened.

She reappeared, suddenly, at Clark's apartment, beaming from ear to ear.

What had changed? In Lois' words;

She had stopped acting like a victim, and started thinking like a reporter.

Lana had told Chloe that whenever Lois would talk about what it meant to be a reporter, she waxed poetic on something she reverently referred to as 'The click' - That moment when all of the pieces of the puzzle came together and she could finally see the big picture. It was sort of a zen approach to Journalism, something that seemed strange for a type A like Lois. But she held true to the belief, and it became her mantra.

The answer was always right there, but sometimes it had to find you.

Needless to say, Lois solved the case, saved the day, and recounted the entire experience in a flawlessly written expose.

Remembering her cousin made Chloe's chest hurt, but it was the thing that kept her going.

She reached in the box and pulled out the photocopied notes from Lana's study of the scroll of Templar. Each source was color coded and dog-eared from hours of research. Despite her meticulous analysis, however, the solution still seemed a million miles away.

She blew the bangs from her eyes, spread out her papers and once again began her search for the answer. She just hoped that it had started its search for her.


"I can't look at this."

Clark watched as his mother set the picture down and fought to maintain her composure. He appreciated the brave face she was keeping up for his sake, but part of him wanted to tell her it was okay to let go - that she had lost a daughter. A larger part, however, was glad that she didn't know the full extent of her loss and would be spared his kind of pain.

He reached across the table and took the photo from her. He felt his heart idle as he stared at the wedding portrait for what could have been the hundredth time. "Funny. I can't stop," he admitted with a humorless laugh.

His father stood across the room, head tilted as he studied the photos tacked on Lana's back wall.

"This is all a little hard to swallow. I mean, time travel?" He motioned to the two Lana's who sat side by side on the kitchen counter. "Although you young ladies do make it a little easier to believe."

They nodded in tandem, and smiled the same smile of remorse.

Martha gently took the picture from his hands, and forced him to look at her. "Why didn't you tell us, Clark?"

"I needed some time to deal with it on my own," he said, running his hands through his damp hair. His parents had convinced him to shower and change before they left, and he had to admit he felt better for it. "I'm sorry I scared you."

She gently stroked his face. "No. We're sorry."

"So what happens now?" his father asked. He walked over and took the last seat at the table. "What's the next step?"

The Lana's looked at each other, as if silently deciding who would be the bearer of bad news. "That's the thing, Mr. Kent. There is no next step," the younger Lana spoke up. "Without the scrolls, we're pretty much stuck."

His father turned to the older Lana. "But you said that you've studied those scrolls for years. You must have them memorized by now."

She nodded. "Mostly, yes. But it's the scroll itself that's powerful. Not just the words."

His mother frowned. "So that's it then? That doesn't seem right," she said.

Clark looked down at the sea of images on the table. "Things stopped being right a long time ago."


Chloe climbed the stairs to the Talon apartment. Her suede bag was heavy on her shoulder, filled with half of Metropolis Library's Latin Section. What wouldn't fit into the bag, she braced in her arms, making the coming task of opening the door a precarious one. She shifted all of the books to one arm and quickly swiped at the knob, pushing forward and stumbling into the apartment.

"Lana, I - " Chloe stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him. "Clark. I didn't know you'd be here."

Chloe found herself, once again, in the uncomfortable position of the accused. It was clear from the scene before her that the Kent's had finally been let in on the secret They now sat as her latest jury, weighing her guilt.

"Well I am. And now you can leave," Clark said, tersely.

Mrs. Kent put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Clark," she chided, but Chloe figured it was more out of politeness than genuine concern for her feelings.

Clark's eyes were cold and unremorseful. They stayed locked on hers. "She doesn't belong here."

"Clark, I know you're upset," Lana informed him hotly, "but this is my home, and I will decide who is and isn't welcome."

Chloe shook her head. "No, it's okay. I'll go." She shrugged off her bag and set it down on the floor, along with the books in her arms, before turning to leave. She stopped, one hand on the door knob. A wave of resentment rose in her. She took a deep breath, and whirled to face him. "Actually I won't."

At her words, Clark grew angrier than she had ever seen him. His jaw line dimpled as he tightly clenched his teeth. He rose from his seat as she walked towards him.

"You know, I've held my tongue this whole time while you used me as your own personal punching bag, because I knew my place in this mess. But I'm sick and tired of pretending that I didn't lose anything."

Clark folded his arms, unmoved. Chloe gestured to the piles of photos around them. On the table. The counters. The wall.

"You sit here, surrounded by these pictures of the future, grieving for a person who doesn't even exist yet. I am the only one here that is actually mourning the girl they just put into the ground. The girl who rescued me from a bully on the playground when I was seven. The girl who took me out for my first drink and held my hair back all night when I had too much." She could see the hurt in his eyes, but this wasn't betrayal. This was the truth.

Tension vibrated in the air as she took another step forward. "You were going to love the woman she became, Clark. But I love her now."

He opened his mouth to argue, but hesitated. After a moment he said, "That doesn't change the fact that you're responsible."

She stood a little straighter and set her chin. "No. It doesn't. I am responsible. But I'm also the only one doing anything about it."

The two former best friends stood in a deadlock as the kitchen clock ticked away each excruciating second.

Finally, it was Clark that broke the silence. "Like what?" he asked. His voice had softened considerably, and Chloe felt herself relax.

"Like reviewing Lana's research. Like pouring over pages of Latin texts. Like logging every single, solitary detail about..." Chloe trailed off. Something flickered in the back of her mind. "Wait."

In a flash she was across the room, tearing through Lana's bookshelves. "Where is it?" she mumbled, more to herself than anyone else. She had all of their curious eyes on her back as she pulled out book after book. Finally, she had what she was looking for in her shaking hands.

As she looked down at the cream colored book, she could feel her heart tripping in her chest. She quickly flipped through the pages, her fingers trembling from the sudden rush of adrenaline. Her head spun at the thought that the answer might finally be within her reach. And when she got to page one, she found it. "That's it."

"What is it?" the younger Lana asked.

Chloe closed her eyes and let the pieces fall into place. "The click," she whispered.

In an instant everything seemed impossibly clear. The once grief-blurred edges of her mind were as sharp as fractured glass. Excited determination shot through her as she spun on her heels and charged towards the others. She pointed to the older Lana.

"Do you remember what I said to you when you first came to see me at the Torch?"

Lana frowned at the memory. "I think your exact words were 'Hey, Time Cop, go bug someone else'."

Chloe waved it off. "No, after that."

Lana though for a moment and then shook her head.

"I asked you that if there really was a big plan, how you knew that what I did hadn't finally set us on the right path," Chloe reminded her. She glanced down at the book and smiled. "I'm convinced now that I was right."

Clark stiffened. "How can you say that? After all that's happened."

She shot him a look. "I said it was meant to happen. I never said I was glad it did."

He scowled and she took that as her cue to explain.

"Why is it that even though our Lois died, we all still remember the Future Lois coming back to save Clark?"

The older Lana flashed her tattoo. "I'm the Guardian. My memory isn't affected by any changes caused by the scroll."

Chloe nodded. "Yeah, but neither Clark nor I bear mark. That means in the future, Lois is still alive. And she's still married to Clark."

"How is that possible?" the younger Lana asked.

"I think this was always meant to happen. The same way Lois was always meant to come back and save Clark. This whole thing was like a detour we were always supposed to make. Like a weigh station on the road to the future.

"If you look at the two stories side by side the one difference is me. I'm the X factor. So where was I in Lana's world if I wasn't in the loft that night with Lois, Lana and Clark?" Chloe turned to the older Lana and held up the book. "Your diary. The one that recounts all events great and small since you found out you were the Guardian. Look at the entry for the day after Lois leaves."

Her thumb held the page open. Lana eyed her skeptically for a beat and then began to scan the passage. After a moment, her eyes grew wide.

"Everything's cyclical," Chloe said with a smirk, echoing what Lana had told her when they first met.

"Oh my god." Th older Lana looked up in disbelief. "We fix this."

Martha looked at the pair in confusion. "I don't understand."

"There's another time hop in the cards," Chloe explained.

Clark sighed. "How are we supposed to do that without the scroll?"

"We get another," Chloe said. "The scrolls that the two Lana's had - they were the same exact scroll, just from different points in time. But there are two Scrolls of Templar, right?"

The older Lana shrugged. "Well, technically, yes, but -"

"So we get the other one." Chloe interrupted.

"That's a good plan in theory," the older Lana said, "but I have no idea where we can find it. The second scroll won't be donated to STARR labs until 2008, and even then it will be done anonymously." The scar on her lips twitched as she pursed them tightly.

"So it could be anywhere?" Mr. Kent asked.

Clark turned to his father. "I'm fast, but even I can't search every inch of the globe," he admitted, regretfully.

"You won't have to," Chloe said. Her lips tugged into a self-satisfied smirk. "I know where it is."

"How?"

She shrugged. "Lois told me."

At the sight of five sets of raised eyebrows, Chloe back peddled. "Well, sort of. I've been compulsively reading Lois' Daily Planet articles. There's one where she exposes a faulty subway switch as an act of sabotage. She's able to link the switch to a CEO who had the governor's opponent in the latest election in his back pocket. A connection that had completely eluded the police."

She walked over to the wall of would-have-been and took down the picture of Lois at her Daily Planet desk. She regarded it with appreciation.

"Lois followed the paper trail. Went back to the beginning. Point of origin, you know?"

She turned back to her now captive audience. Her hopeful smile had caught like wildfire, and now touched the lips of every occupant of the tiny kitchen.

"So, where did our story start?"

Clark's brow furrowed. "The caves?" he tried.

Chloe shook her head. "No." She slid a glance the Older Lana's way. "Care to wager a guess, Tattoo Girl?"

The epithet had it's desired effect, and Chloe watched as the Older Lana's face lit up with recognition.

"The tomb," she exclaimed, excitedly. "The tomb of Countess Isabelle Thoreau."

"Exactly," Chloe said. "So we just need to go to Paris and –"

Her sentence was cut off by the loud whoosh of air as Clark shot out through the fire escape.

Mr. Kent turned to his wife. "Since when can our son fly?

Chloe smiled, her eyes on the night sky. "Since he remembered how."

So, I said that this chapter would only resolve 95 percent.

1. Why doesn't the older Lana remember this event if it was always meant to happen?

2. Is the scroll really there?

3. Can they really change things back?

Next Chapter: Zero Sum