1Okay, here's part two. I'll try to make this my last preface that includes an apology about lateness. This chapter is dedicated to all the Pimpers of the Clois. It's super indulgent just for y'all.

Since it's been asked (and, admittedly, and issue in this chapter) Lois is 27/28ish. Also a point often brought up - my take on Lana? Well, I have big plans for her here - so I'm trying to make her pretty cool. So, while this is unabashedly Clois, tell all your Lana-lovin' friends that this is a good time.

And just 'cause sometimes its fun to know - I've been writing this story to pretty much the Jimmy Eat World's "Futures" album alone. (Because when I got a theme, I stick to it mightily)

Part 2: Shift

On the old wicker chair in the corner of the loft, with two perfectly plucked eyebrows raised to the sky, Lana Lang was the picture of confusion.

"Why would someone want to kill Clark?" she asked, incredulously.

Tension pulsed off the two figures on the couch in waves. Their eyes were set in a deadlock that neither seemed willing to break.

It took a moment, but Lois finally pulled away. "A few months back - my time - Clark wrote the expose that brought Trask's dirty dealings to light. Won him a Kerth. And, well, a place on Trask's hit list."

Clark's brows knit in a lighter kind of surprise. "I'm a reporter?"

Lois nodded. "And a damn good one. Of course, you learned from the best," she boasted, a proud grin stretching across her face.

Clark took a deep breath as the pieces began to fall into place. Slowly, he felt the flash frost that had chilled his disposition begin to melt away.

"So you came here to save me?" The words sounded horrible as they came out, each one pricking him with guilt.

Lois smiled, wryly. "Makes you rethink the less than warm welcome you gave me, doesn't it?" In her eyes the look of betrayal still echoed.

His heart twisted. "I..." Clark floundered. "I'm sorry. I mean, thank you - -"

She swept his apology off with a sharp flick of the wrist. "Save it, Clark. The time for the tickertape parade has come and gone."

He nodded, sadly, He had deserved that.

"Hey," she soothed, her voice softer now. Lois reached out and took his hand. She leaned in to catch his eyes beneath his bowed head and will them up to her own. "Don't go brooding martyr on me. Not when it's so important."

He softly nodded, agreeing and submitting. She flashed him an encouraging smile, and he felt himself returning it immediately. A knee-jerk reaction.

"So what do we do now?" Lana asked, shattering the silence."I mean, does this psycho know where Clark lives?"

Lois pulled her hand back. As he felt it leave his own, Clark fought the urge to intercept its retreat.

"It's not an issue," she explained. "We were able to calibrate it so that I'd get here two days early - cut him off at the proverbial pass. So we have some time."

"We should call Lex," Clark suggested, suddenly.

Lois bristled. "We are not calling Lex Luthor."

Clark clung tightly to his idea. "But he has eyes and ears all over this town. This state, even. He can help - -"

"No," Lois snapped, her voice rising for the first time. She paused for a moment to even it out. "Look, what I've just told you can't leave this room. Nobody can know I'm here. Not Chloe. Not the Kents. And especially not me."

Lana frowned. "Admittedly I'm new to the whole time travel thing, but isn't it a little late for the 'you not knowing' phase of the plan?"

"Not me," Lois corrected, tapping her chest. "The younger me. Lois Lane; the college years. There would be huge repercussions if I were to run into me...her..." Lois sputtered off, annoyed. "And the resulting pronoun issues are just the tip of the iceberg."

"Well, my parents are out of town for the weekend, so they won't be a factor. You're at Met U right now. And Chloe's taking the whole week to tour prospective campuses." Clark ticked the list off on his fingers. "So it shouldn't be a problem."

Lois still looked unsure. "Good. Let's just hope I don't get a yen for the simple life."

Suddenly, a sharp ring cut through the room.

It took a second before Lana realized that the sound was coming from her coat pocket. She fumbled a bit before successfully pulling out her phone.

Lana flashed an apologetic smile and answered. "Hello?" She held up a finger and scooted off to the corner of the room . As she left, Clark heard her rush a quick explanation. "I didn't forget. Something just came up."

He looked back at Lois to find her hand in her bag. It wasn't the first time he had picked up on this. He had seen her unconsciously slipping it in and out during her narrative.

"What's that?"

"What?"

He motioned to her hand. "You keep reaching for something in your bag."

"Oh," she said, caught. She pulled out a yellowing, time-worn piece of paper. "My ticket home," she explained. The Scroll of Templar, Clark realized. He wanted to reach out and examine it further, but thought better of it. Out of the protection of the bag, Lois had it in a death-grip.

"I just need to keep it close." She laughed, embarrassed. "It's silly, I know." She wouldn't meet his eyes, instead smoothing out the scroll's fraying corners with her thumb.

Clark wondered how she had managed to stay strong during all of this. She was so far from home...

"I'm sorry, I have to be somewhere," Lana apologized, walking back into the room. "But I don't want to leave if - -"

"Go," Lois instructed, succinctly. She pushed the scroll back into the bag. "We'll call you if anything happens." Lana lingered a split second too long and Lois was on her feet, shooing her off with two hands. "Go. It'll be fine."

Lana gave them both one more apologetic look before rushing down the stairs and out the barn door.

Lois turned to Clark and sighed. "You know I love Lana. I do. But 10 years later and she's still all about the drama."

A nervous laugh tremmored in his throat. They were alone.

"So..." he drew the word out.

"So."

To Clark the silence was deafening. And for the first time he was disappointed that Lois Lane had no compulsion to fill it with words.

He stood up, quickly.

"I'm sorry. This is kind of–" He scratched the back of his head. "Strange."

She looked amused. "Don't resort to understatement on my behalf."

Clark tried again. "Cataclysmically, life-alteringly, world turned upside down strange."

"Better," she said, her sharp nod like an exclamation point on the thought.

Clark stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I don't want you to think I'm not appreciative of what you're doing," he edged. "Coming to save my life and all."

"Well, you'll get your turn soon enough." She thought for a moment. "Many, many turns. A virtual lifetime membership into the Lifesavers of America club. Me? I'm a rookie."

Once again silence lingered between them. Clark's mind began to laundry list the things he wanted to ask her. Needed to ask her.

"Can I ask you stuff? About what I have to look forward to, I mean. There's so much I want to know. Like... Will I be successful? Will I be happy?"

"I'm a reporter, not a magic eightball," she deadpanned.

"But you must know. Can't you tell me anything about my future?"

"You've gotten a pretty substantial sneak preview already - career, bride-to-be, the knowledge that you'll survive your adolescent years." She frowned. "Now you're just being greedy."

"Please. Can't you tell me anything more?"

Lois leaned forward, and cast her voice to a low, dangerous whisper. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." She patted his chest. "And then my Quantum Leap will have been for nothing." She finished it off with a dazzling smile, before moving over towards the window.

Of all the things he had been presented with in the past hour or so, the changes in Lois were the most amazing. He had always thought she was pretty, beautiful even. But maturity had made her breath-taking. Her rough-edged, caustic demeanor had evened out into an effortless grace. She was still sarcastic, and biting, and all the things that made Lois Lane special. But she was softer, somehow, and it was intoxicating.

It drew him in, like gravity.

Suddenly he realized that he had been staring. He shook himself out, and hoped she hadn't noticed.

Luckily her attention was on the vast expanse of the Kent farm. "I can't believe its nighttime already," she said, wistfully.

Clark went to her side. The dark sheet of night was flecked with stars. The bright moon hung low, and sent a soft white beam towards the barn. In the moonlight Lois seemed to glow.

He moved closer, unsure why. But his mind had left the equation some time ago. She was drawing him in, her mere presence like an irresistible siren song.

Lois looked up at him, finally, and they both stilled.

Clark felt like he was sinking. He held his breath and let himself fall...

The moment was broken by a sharp snap, as the light above them flickered and died, leaving them in darkness. Clark coughed, and stepped back awkwardly.

"I'll go get the ladder," he said, side-stepping around a still-confused Lois .

"Why?"

He spun to face her. "What?"

"Why don't you just..?" She made a motion with her hand. A loop-da-loop, like a rollercoaster.

He looked at her, blankly.

She sighed. "Fly, Clark," she explained, this time flapping her arms.

"I - -"

"Oh, right," she broke in, shaking her head. "You don't go anti-gravity until sophomore year of college. I really should have brought a time line with me for reference - instead I'm left with perpetual foot-in-mouth."

Clark's heart was pounding a drumroll in his throat, while panic took a stronghold. As he stood exposed before her, his words tripped and fell. "So you know that I'm...I mean, you know about - -"

"Your past? From A to Zed. Krypton, super-powers, the whole bit. You actually thought that you would marry me before letting me in on the family secret? Please, Clark. You of all people should know you're way too much of a guilt-case to ever do that." As she answered, her focus was on the fizzled lightbulb, the inner workings of a deep contemplation revealed by her scrunched expression. Soon an epiphany flashed across her face. "Oh Stroke of brilliance." She set off for the couch.

He followed. "So it doesn't bother you?"

"Nope," she responded, off-handedly. She dropped to her knees and stuck her hand under the skirt of the couch. She reached far back, her whole arm disappearing underneath. Her brow scrunched in consternation and her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she fished blindly."Aha! Here we go."

Lois pulled out a large shoe-box. She put it to her ear and gave it a shake. The contents rattled inside.

Clark stood, dumbfounded. "How did you know about those?"

Lois smiled. "Oh, I am very familiar with the Clark Kent emergency ambiance kit. You broke this out on our 4th date, when the lightbulb conveniently - - "

"Died out?" Clark tried.

"Exploded into a million pieces," Lois corrected, flatly.

Clark flushed, embarrassed.

"Anyway, you used these very scented candles in a lame attempt to romance me." She brought the box over to where he stood. She removed the top and began pulling out the candles inside.

"So I'm guessing it didn't work."

"Oh, it worked," she admitted. Lois laughed at the memory. "We ended up knocking one of the votives off the dresser and into a bale of hay. Almost burnt down the whole barn." Lois lined the candles along the bannister. "Your dad rushed in to find us both in various stages of undress tossing handfuls of dirt onto the flames," She shot him a knowing look. "And you thought we got a lecture that time they caught us commingling in the Kent family bathroom."

Clark didn't respond. And for the life of him he didn't know how to. Visions of flames and undress swirled in his mind. Unable to do anything else, he blinked.

Lois laughed and shook her head, grabbing the last two candles from the box. "Can you give me a hand with these?" she asked.

He felt around his pockets, feebly. "I don't have any matches."

Lois rolled her eyes. "Oh, gee. It's too bad that you don't have, oh I don't know, heat vision of some kind." She held the candles up to his face.

He eyed her wearily for a moment before sending a set of quick shots down to the candles. The two wicks sparked and ignited. She smiled a thank-you, and set to lighting th rest of the candles. After a moment, the barn was cast in warm light.

"There. Much better." Lois set one of the candles on the desk. She tipped the other towards her wrist and looked down at her watch. "Ok, it's been about an hour and a dimension since I've had a good cup of coffee. With the Ma and Pa safely out of state I think I'm going to make my way to the kitchen and put on a pot. Milk and two sugars?"

It took a minute before Clark realized she was talking to him. "I don't really drink - -"

"Milk and two sugars it is," she said, clapping her hands and ignoring him completely.

Before he could respond, she had jogged down the stairs and out of sight.

Clark closed his eyes and sighed a deep, lung-full of air.

Lois Lane knew about him. All of him. He had been able to tell her everything and it hadn't sent her screaming for the hills. She hadn't called him a freak. Exposed his weirdness. Left him.

She accepted him. She loved him.

The sound of Clark's cell phone tore him from his thoughts.

"Hello?" A familiar voice greeted him cheerily on the other end of the line. "Mom, hi." It was nice to hear her voice. It set Clark firmly back into the present. "No, I'm fine. Yes I saw the meatloaf in the refrigerator."

Clark strolled around, nodding his head and mm-hmm-ing to his mother's barrage of questions. He noticed that one of the candles had flickered out and relit it from a distance. "How's aunt Mable?"

He allowed the phone to dip slowly away from his ear as his attention focused on something else.

Lois' bag.

He gave a quick look around the room before cautiously moving to the couch. "Uh-huh," he responded to whatever his mother had just asked him, distracted. He looked at Lois' bag intently. He could only imagine what sort of things it contained. What kind of answers it could give him. His hand lingered over the buckle as he fought his conscience. Caving to curiosity, he bit his bottom lip and slowly lifted up the flap --

"Clark, I can't find the coffee filters."

Clark jerked his hand back and crammed it into his pocket. On the phone his mother was calling his name.

"What?" he replied, quickly. "Oh that was just Lois." The second the words came out of his mouth he knew he has messed up. He looked over to find Lois stunned, with a little bit of mad-as-hell thrown in for good measure. "Um, sure." He covered the receiver with his hand, and held the phone out for her to take. "She wants to talk to you."

Lois shot him the look of death before taking it. She took a deep breath, plastered on a smile she hoped would translate, and answered.

"Hey, Ma–err–Mrs. Kent." She pulled her voice into a high, youthful squeak. "Oh, yes I realize it's a little late, but Clark was just helping me with a ..." She stretched for a lie. "History project. It's a real killer."

Clark shook his head. If his parents only knew how true that was.

He watched as Lois wandered around the room, taking in whatever his mother was dishing out, her mouth opening and closing as she fought to get a word in edge-wise.

"Yes. I love meatloaf." Lois looked at him and shook her head, signaling the contrary. "No, I wasn't planning on staying the night–" Lois tried again. "But I'm not –" She sighed. "Yes, I'll tell Clark to take the couch. Thanks, Mrs. Kent." Lois flipped off the phone and handed it back.

"It's official. Your parents are going to kill you when they get home."

Clark shrugged. "I'll just explain that we're married."

Lois studied him carefully. "Getting a little cocky, aren't we?" She flashed the ring on her finger. "This didn't come easy, Bucko."

Clark smirked. "Let me guess, the first time I proposed you decked me."

Her eyes sparkled as her lips curved into a wicked smile. "Something like that."

Clark moved closer.

She accepted him...

He reached a tentative hand out and touched her cheek.

Lois gasped, and stepped back. Clark stared dumbly at his own hand, trying to figure out what exactly had possessed it to do that. As if it had been out of his control.

"You know, it's late," Lois said finally. "I think I'm gonna skip the java and head strait to bed."

Clark just nodded. "Goodnight, Lois."

He was surprised when she didn't move. Instead she scanned his face, looking as though something had just occurred to her.

"What?" he asked, self consciously.

"Nothing," she said with a shrug. "It's just funny seeing you without your glasses."

She patted his arm and whispered a goodnight before leaving him alone once again.

He stood in the middle of the room, with a million unanswered questions. One particular one, lingered in the foreground.

"Glasses?

A/N: Clark, you are so screwed