1Sorry this took so long. Multi-chapter fic is..well...hard. That's why I stick to one-shotters. I appreciate any feedback you wanna send my way!
Part 1: Awakenings
Clark watched the woman on the couch. Her fingers gripped the cuffs of her once white blazer, now dirt-streaked from her violent entrance into the caves. She shifted, restless, her body tensing in quick bursts. Beneath tightly closed lids, her eyes twitched wildly and arrhythmic.
She looked as thoroughly beaten as he felt.
Crouched beside her, Lana dipped a dishtowel into a container of warm, sudsy water. She slowly wrung it out, and gently applied it to the large gash that streaked across her forehead, temple to temple. The woman flinched beneath her touch, her once blank face stretching into a mask of pain. Lana whispered an apology the woman would never hear before rising to her feet.
"It can't be her. It's not," Clark informed her as she passed.
Lana didn't stop. She walked to the opposite side of the room and set her supplies down on his desk. "Well, it looks like Lois but older. Two very compelling arguments for her case."
Lana had insisted that they bring the woman back to Clark's loft. Regardless of who the woman was - or wasn't - she needed their help. He had voiced his protests, but ultimately agreed that Smallville General would a be far too conspicuous alternative.
Clark had carried her home, a lifeless bundle in his arms. Along the way, he found himself sneaking glances at her face. His mind rolled back to weeks before, and the loud and unblushing Lois Lane that had crashed into his life – holding the image there with a mental thumbtack.
He searched for variations. A birthmark. A freckle. Any flaw in the facade that would betray her real identity. A single, solitary difference to hang his hopes on.
It hadn't come.
"A person from the future." Clark shook his head. "Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"
Lana was beside him now. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the bannister. "Oh, you mean like a spontaneous tattoo? Or lust-inducing sports drinks? Or, oh I don't know, just about everything else that happens in this town?"
"She's not Lois Lane," he repeated, firmly.
His eyes swept over her. Something. There had to be something...
"You're right. She's not." He felt Lana move closer. "She's Lois Lane Kent."
On the couch, the woman shifted again, and a soft moan escaped from her lips.
"That's the real sticking point here, isn't it Clark?" Lana pressed.
Clark set his jaw. At his sides, his fists clenched tightly. "Are you telling me that you ever thought that I would marry Lois of all people?" he shot back, tearing his gaze away from the unconscious woman for the first time since they had brought her back and setting it squarely on his accuser.
Lana shrugged. "Of course not. I had you two pegged as a fling." Off his astonished look, Lana rolled her eyes. "Don't look so surprised, Clark. It verges on insulting."
Clark gaped, wide-eyed and wordless. He struggled to protest, but the argument was somewhere beyond him. Frustrated, he raked his hands through his hair.
"Hey, she's awake."
Clark turned to find the woman sitting herself up, letting out a dull groan as she did. She wobbled slightly, and braced herself on the cushions.
As Lana moved towards her patient, he quickly blocked her way. "Where are you going?"
She looked at him like he was certifiable. "To talk to Lois..." she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"That is not Lois!" Clark seethed through gritted teeth. He threw a quick look towards the waking woman and then dialed his voice down to a harsh whisper. "Maybe it's a long lost aunt. Maybe it's some plastic surgeon's idea of a sick joke. I don't know. But there is no way that..." Clark trailed off. He watched the woman sway. Woozy hand to forehead, her sleeve slid down to reveal a flash of gold.
Clark took a step forward, focused.
On her right wrist was a bracelet. A crisscrossed box with a diamond center - the cave scrawlings molded in gold and jade. It was the one he was going to give to his soulmate.
Clark reeled backwards, the scene a wind-knock shot to the solar plexus. His world slowed as the implications hit.
"It's her. It's really her."
On shaky legs, he started forward.
Lana tagged behind, confused. "Did I just miss a turn somewhere?"
Lois' head was at her knees now. She drew in long, deep breathes as if trying to quell impending nausea.
"Lois?"
At her name, her eyes flew up.
"Clark?"
And then she followed in suit.
"Oh, Clark! Thank God." She wrapped a tight pair of arms around his neck and held on as if her life depended on it. Clark stood, rigid. "Is it really you?" If he could have managed a laugh, he would have. She was questioning his identity.
She pulled back, and looked him over with a mixture of excitement and relief. Eager hands met his face. His chest. Confirming his presence, limb by limb.
"Lana!" Lois greeted the girl behind him with a smile, and much to Clark's surprise, a hug. "You don't know how happy I am to see you two." Her attention turned to herself, as she scanned her front and back. "You don't know how happy I am to see me. Portals aren't exactly the most reliable way to get from here to there in one piece." As she took in her surroundings, her brow furrowed. "The loft? How did I - -?"
She had looked to Clark for the answer, but he didn't offer one. Words were still just out of reach. Lana stepped in.
"We found you in the caves," she explained. "We thought it was best if we brought you back here."
Lois frowned at this. "Did anyone see you?"
Lana thought for a moment. "No," she answered.
"Good." Lois looked around. "Wow. I think I'm having the world's most literal flashback." Clark watched as she toured his room, running her hand along each item as she passed it. She picked up a framed picture off his desk and examined it with an amused look. "Ha! Look at Chloe's hair!" She waved it before them, as if it meant anything.
"So you really are from the future?" Lana asked, not because she was unsure, but because someone had to.
Lois shrugged. "Well, ten years, give or take. Not exactly flying cars and jetpacks, but yeah, the future..." she trailed off, her attention stolen by the telescope at the window. She scurried over and pulled it towards her, bending over and admiring the view.
"Do you remember the night we caught Chloe in the bushes with that guy, Clark? She was so mortified. And then she refused to believe we weren't purposefully spying. I mean, we were, but she didn't believe us." She laughed and shook her head. "No, of course you don't. Sorry, I'll fight the urge to stroll down a memory lane that has yet to be formed. Seeing the loft like this - it just kind of opens the floodgates, ya know?"
"It's different now?" Lana asked. "In the future, I mean."
Lois nodded. "Martha took up sculpting a few years back and converted it into a studio. I had one of her trial runs in my apartment for months. It looked like a giant ceramic dinner roll."
Clark just stared. He wanted to grab her. Shake her. Demand that she treat this situation with the seriousness it deserved. Hell, any kind of seriousness. Instead she breezed through, dodging the obvious questions with idle chit chat and indulging in a past that hadn't passed. She had tossed a live grenade into his life, and she had done it with a shoulder shrug.
And for what?
He blinked to find her attention zeroed in on him.
"So, Clark. Can we expect a response from you any time today? It was a while ago, but I don't remember any part of your teenage years being dedicated to the study of mime," she teased, lightly. Her smile was easy. Infuriating.
Clark finally found his voice. "Why are you here?" he snapped.
Her eyebrows flew up at his directness. "Ahh...straight to final Jeopardy, huh?" She crossed her arms and studied him carefully. He kept his face a picture of blankness. Unreadable. Or at least to most. But as it appeared, not to her. Because after a moment she smirked, satisfied, having found whatever it was she was looking for. After patting his chest, she spun on her heels. "Never let it be said that Lois Lane couldn't get right down to business," she said, making her way back to the couch.
"Kent."
She stopped short. "What?"
He felt it deep down. Resentment. It was thick and swirling, clouding his judgement. Choking any semblance of civility.
"Your name. It's Lois. Lane. Kent." He didn't bother to disguise the icy tone. He wanted to make her feel the same unease that had his own stomach in a vice.
She whirled around at breakneck speed. "How did you...?" He cut her off, dangling her press pass in front of her. She cast her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. "Damn it. I thought I took that thing off. Well, so much for leaving that can of worms unopened."
Clark exploded, bridging their distance with three long strides. "You were going to keep it from me??"
She took the card from him and shoved it into her jacket pocket.
"I was going to keep a lot of things from you, Clark," she said, bluntly. "You're no good to me if you're catatonic."
"Who are you to decide what I do and do not have a right to know?" he asked. And then after a moment of feigned consideration, he answered his own question. "Oh, that's right. My wife." His laugh was sharp, caustic.
Lois went completely still as she stared at him, stricken. He knew it was a low blow, but he hadn't been fully aware of just how deep it could cut. It had affected her. But why?
And then it hit him.
Because in a different place - another time - he was hers.
As he watched her struggle to maintain her composure, anger quickly bowed to a stronger set of emotions - guilt. Shame. He had gone too far...
"I should go," Lana edged into the silence.
"No. Stay." Lois quickly swept the tears from her eyes and across the bruise that was beginning to blossom on her cheek. When she winced, he did too. "I'm sorry. We aren't getting off on the right foot, here. I owe you explanations, and I'm going to give them to you." It was addressed to them both, but he knew the words were for him.
Lois went to the couch and sat down. She picked up her suede shoulder bag, the one Lana had carried back from the cave, and set it in her lap.
"Maybe you should sit down for this," she said, motioning to the chair beside her. Clark didn't move. "Or hover menacingly above me. That works, too."
The contents of her bag clanked and rattled as she rifled through it. After a minute she had produced a large, glossy photo, and urged him to take it.
"Jason Trask," she explained. "One of America's finest, or at least he was until he started abusing military resources to outfit his own crackpot crusades. Funneling government money and resources in some misguided attempt to eradicate su—" Lois clipped herself short. "Not important. Anyway, all his efforts got him were a dishonorable discharge and government blackballing." She sighed, easing back onto the couch. "But funny thing about the fanatically obsessed - they're not easily dissuaded. He started looking in the private sector for like-minded whackos to foot the bill. Well, he scored big time, landing the granddaddy of all investors. One who not only had money to burn, but also had something that Uncle Sam could never provide. The Scroll of Templar."
"What's that?" Lana asked.
"Basically? A Thomas Guide to time travel."
Clark shook his head, confused. "I don't get it. If someone has the ability to time travel at their fingertips, why not just use it themselves?" he asked, finally sitting down.
"Because, like I said. It's dangerous." Lois leaned forward. "Time travel isn't an exact science. Actually, it's not a science at all - more like supernatural crap shoot. High risk with Vegas odds you'll end up in the Jurassic Era with your limbs reversed. It's a gamble most aren't willing to make."
Clark eyeballed her. "You did."
Her lips twisted up into a rueful smile. "I had too many chips in the pot." He saw something he'd only seen in the Lois of his world once before - that morning at Chloe's grave. Deep regret. Heartbreak. It was a different Lois. "Plus, running headlong into danger? Kinda my MO." And it was the same old Lois.
"If Trask had the scroll, how did you get here?"
"One of my more reliable informants caught wind of what Trask was planning and tipped me off. Turns out that there was one other copy of the scrolls being held in some classified department of STARlabs. And luckily Clark and I have friends in high places. So Trask jumped and on the other side of Metropolis I followed."
Clark looked down at the picture. The man in it stared up at him, his face a set of hard lines. He found it...unsettling.
"So what does he want?" Clark asked Lois, finally.
Her eyes pinned him. "You dead."
