Disclaimer: Smallville is not mine (nor is anything in the DC universe).

"I hate this custom," she told him glaring at him as if the whole situation was his doing.

"You have made that abundantly clear," he informed her taking in her stance and deciding that a bit of soothing might be in order. There was, after all, no reason for the day to begin with the need for a repair crew to be called. "Look, it's a tradition. The guy was central to saving the world; he gets his trip. That's how this works."

"Time travel is not a toy," she insisted.

"It is not a toy, it is dangerous, the entire universe could be destroyed with one careless moment," he recited. "We all know. It doesn't change the fact that he is going."

"If only the founders hadn't all been so broody about their pasts . . .," she trailed off and sighed.

"It is what it is," he said with a shrug. "He makes a little mistake, and there ends up being a temporary pocket universe that rectifies itself in short order."

"None of you take this seriously. One does not treat the creation of alternate dimensions as if it is no big deal. It does not matter that tiny discrepancies merge together. What happens when the discrepancies are not small? This technology should not be used in such a casual manner. It is infuriating that such a thing would be treated so lightly."

"He is a science obsessed kid with slight fan tendencies that did his doctoral dissertation on the family dynamics of the early childhood of superheroes," he stated in a tone that spoke very clearly to how little he believed that there was anything to worry about. "There is a reason that there are rules about not choosing significant dates. The kid is going to take a short trip and stalk the Kents while they go out for their anniversary. He'll only be there for a few hours. Then, he'll come back and be all gushy about it for the next year. If there is anything to worry about, it is how insufferable he is going to be when he gets back."

The two were interrupted by a man who appeared to be in his early twenties rushing into the room and skidding to a stop in front of them. He had a notebook in his hand through which he was rapidly flipping.

"Am I late?" He asked breathlessly. "I'm not late, am I? It took longer than I expected to transfer my notes to paper. I didn't want to forget anything."

"You're not late," the other man assured him. "You've still got ten minutes before they get everything up and running."

"Good," he exhaled leaning forward and peering through the observation window at the tech people who were working on the other side. "This is so cool," he breathed out.

"Cool?" The woman repeated in a tone that was nothing short of dangerous. He looked over his shoulder at her and seemed to shrink in on himself in the face of the displeasure that was clearly radiating from her. "Cool?" She accused. "The ability to destroy existence as we know it is being placed in your clumsy fingers, and you think that it is cool." She shook her head before she began barking a series of reminders at him. "You do not interact with anyone in a more than cursory manner. You do not interfere in anything that you may witness occurring. You remain silent whenever possible. When you must speak, you keep your statements carefully within the confines of topic and vocabulary of the time period which you are visiting. You take nothing with you that could not already be found in said time. You leave nothing behind you when you leave. Do not arouse interest in your doings or comings and goings in anyone that you happen to encounter. Do not be late in returning to your departure location. Is that all understood?"

He nodded his head, and she glared at him for a few moments before huffing and turning on her heel and marching away.

"I know the rules," he muttered at her retreating back.

"She takes this whole process very seriously," the other man told him.

"She wants it stopped," he retorted.

"She makes no secret of that, and she is not entirely without a valid reason for her concerns. There have been a number of pocket universes that have come into being as a result of this particular program."

"But pocket universes are temporary," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "They work like a magnet with their original universe and the two pull themselves back together until they become one. People end up with some deja vu, and there is no harm done."

"There is, however, potential for harm to be done."

"I'm not going to destroy any universes," he huffed.

The other man held up his hands in surrender. "I'm on your side," he stated. "I'm just saying that you should recognize that this is a touchy subject for her and tread lightly. You know how she gets about her theoretical physics and boomerang theory."

"It's not like anyone is allowed to visit world events of significance. I'm just going to eat dinner in a restaurant and watch the Kents for a bit," he said. "It may seem like too many chances to be taking for her, but it's about the most intriguing thing that will ever happen to me in the course of my life. He's one of the few, you know. There was no traumatic murder in front of his eyes, no plane crash, no one parent hiding his existence from the other parent. He got picked up and adopted and raised and guided by people who were just normal, nice people who wanted to raise a safe, happy child. Getting a glimpse of the Kents, even just for an hour, it's beyond words." He shrugged his shoulders. "Besides, boomerang theory is a very questionable area of study. There are no known occurrences."

The other man grinned at him. "You are the biggest geek I have ever met," he told him. "Have fun on your field trip. She'll be in a better mood after you get back and nothing has exploded or imploded or whatever."

He did have fun on his field trip. He had to admit that his friend was correct - he was the biggest geek ever. He dealt with aliens and supervillains and threats to the planet, and he still thought this little trip to the past and getting to watch the Kents make goo goo eyes at each other was the coolest thing that he had ever done. He had been scribbling notes furiously in the blank pages of the notebook that he had been allowed to bring (which had gotten him a few odd looks from the server), but he did not want to be able to forget any of the details.

The watch that had been assigned to him for the trip caught his eye as he made yet another notation, and he blinked at it in near panic. That could not possibly be the time. There was no way that that was the time. He flicked his fingers at it, but it was running normally. That was the time. He was perilously close to the time at which he needed to be at his departure point. He frantically tossed the money to cover his bill on the table in front of him (he had no time to wait for the server to return). He rushed by the table full of Luther Corp employees that he had noticed were having a working dinner of some sort (he had noted that down with a comment about the ironic way that people's lives bounced against each other before becoming ultimately connected). He knew that he had brushed against (okay a little more than brushed against) a woman who was also making her way toward the door, but he did not notice that he had knocked the purse from her hand or that the contents were spilling out across the floor. He also did not notice the man coming out of the hallway that led to the bathrooms who stopped to help her gather her things. The only thing he noticed was that he did, in fact, make it to his departure point with a full forty seconds to spare. He was very proud of himself.

Back at the restaurant that he had rushed out of, the man who had stopped to help the woman chasing the items from her purse across the floor was handing her a tube of lipstick.

"I think that's everything," he told her as she took it from his hand.

"Worst blind date ever," she commented closing her eyes and sighing as she tucked it back into her bag.

"Sorry?" He asked her.

"No," she insisted opening her eyes and looking at him. "I'm sorry. Thank you for your help. This has just been a really lousy day."

"Well, I hope it gets better for you," he commented standing up and brushing his hands across the knees of his pants. He held a hand out to help her up, and she accepted.

"Thanks again," she said trying to click the clasp of her clutch closed and realizing that it was broken. "I don't know if there is time left for it to get better," she told him, "but it is almost over."

"It's not that late," he told her with a grin. "There's always enough time for things to get better." He held his hand back out. "I'm Gabe by the way."

She reached out and took it again. "Moira."

His good mood at arriving on time dissipated the instant he saw her expression as he stepped into the hall. Deciding it was best for his personal safety to employ some sort of a buffer, he addressed the other person waiting for him.

"Why does she look like she is about to start channeling a tea kettle?" He asked.

"Tea kettle?"

"You know with the steam coming out of her ears? Never mind. Why is she so angry?"

"Congratulations!" His friend announced in a falsely cheery tone. "You are now the proud originator of your very own splinter universe."

"What?"

"Well, you did something and . . .," he cut him off before he could finish.

"I know how other universes come to be. Pocket universes self-correct. They aren't permanent."

"I didn't say pocket. I said splinter."

"That is not possible," he insisted looking increasingly desperate as the seething expression on the face of the woman standing next to them did not change. "I didn't do anything!"

"I told you that this was serious," she finally spoke (and the softness of the tone was more terrifying than any amount of yelling was capable of being). "I reminded you in detail of everything that you needed to be careful of, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter how careful anyone is; time is not something that can be casually meddled with."

"What did I do?" He demanded sounding determined to insist that he could not possibly have caused what they were telling him that he had caused.

"You apparently triggered the introduction of two people who were not originally slated to meet each other," the other man told him.

"Why didn't that just self-correct?" He asked looking more panicked than he had even when he had realized the time at the restaurant.

She shook her head at him (and for the first time she looked pitying instead of angry). "There is nothing in any universe that exerts more influence on all of our surroundings than free will. It tried to self-correct. You would have a difficult time imagining some of the ways that it tried to self-correct, but they stubbornly insisted upon continuing to see each other. They foiled the pull. Once there was a child, well . . . some things are very resistant to being merged."

She rubbed her hand across her eyes as if warding off a headache. "The ripples are extensive. Commonalities across multiverses have been completely removed from this splinter sphere. There are completely unrecognizable shifts that are displaying no signs of slowing down. Maybe the members of the council will finally listen to me. I can't talk to you with any level of rationality right now. I need to go." She walked off with her shoulders slumped and her head bowed.

He stared at her retreating figure with a mixture of guilt and confusion.

"Hey," a voice attracted his attention. "No one is angry. Okay, no one else is angry. We all knew that this was a possibility - as small of a one as we thought that it might be. The members of the council were the ones who let you go knowing all of the potential fallout. They can't get mad that one of those might possibly could be things happened. There's another dimension out there. I don't see why that has to be a bad thing. The other ones that we have stumbled across had to have come into being somehow."

"I'm going to fix this," he insisted.

"It's done; there's nothing to fix. It already is."

"I'm going to find a way."