>>> from the journal of H. G. Wells
My machine is now functioning normally once again. The timeline in this world has finally stabilized and I am almost ready to depart, save for one more sad task which I must complete.
I have learned a great deal here. I have learned to do as little as possible in order to produce the desired outcome. I have learned to hold back and observe even when my reason and my emotional state tell me that I must act.
Most of all, I have learned that I am most fallible when I am most certain of my path.
I very nearly made a terrible hash of everything and everyone in this dimension. By my intemperate actions, I precipitated a crisis which, had it not been resolved as it was, might have destroyed any hope of Utopia on this Earth. I fully anticipate further training and possibly even disciplinary action when I return to my home base, and I shall accept any and all procedures against me because I surely deserve them. Everything did, of course, work out in the end, but it was in spite of my actions, not because of them.
I am deeply saddened by the death and misery I have brought to these people. Perhaps one day one or two of them might find it in their hearts to forgive me.
I do not foresee being able to forgive myself, not in any future I might imagine.
>>>
Lucy pulled Clark into her embrace beside the fresh grave. Had she not been there, he might have toppled over onto the thin brown grass. His voice broke. “I failed her. When she needed me the most, I failed her.”
She knew she was the only one who could reach him now, the only one who could comfort him in his pain. “No, Clark, no, you didn’t fail her. You did the best you could have done. No one could have done more for her than you did.”
“It wasn’t enough,” he hiccupped. “She’s – she’s dead.”
She stroked his hair. “I know. But it wasn’t your fault, Clark. Not even you can save everyone. Please believe me.”
“I should have – that day – the day she—”
She knew the day he was thinking about. She had been thinking about it, too. It was the day when their lives had changed forever, the day her sister had returned as if from the dead but had brought only misery and pain trailing in her wake.
But Lucy had learned a very painful lesson over the past weeks, that no one has as much time as he or she wants, and that there was no better time than right now to make a change in her life. Hopefully, it would be a change for the better, both for herself and for the man she loved.
The cemetery was getting darker. The fading daylight was losing the battle against the heaving, blackening clouds. She fished a handkerchief out of her coat pocket and wiped the tears from his face. “Clark? Please come on home. Let me take care of you.”
She desperately hoped he’d hear her love for him in her words. She wasn’t sure he was ready to hear her tell him that she loved him.
Even though she did.
He looked into her eyes and his face slowly relaxed. She hoped he could see her love for him emanating from her eyes. Maybe some of his super-powers had rubbed off on her and she could project her care and compassion for him the same way he projected beams of heat from his eyes.
He nodded slowly, and she smiled hesitantly. “No pressure, okay, Clark? You aren’t committing to anything and I’m not expecting anything from you except a chance to take care of you as long you need me around.” He opened his mouth to speak but she stopped him with a finger on his lips. “Shh. When I said ‘no pressure,’ that’s exactly what I meant. When we’re both back on our feet, we’ll take it from there.”
Lucy’s fingertips gently caressed his cheek as the cold rain began plopping down around them. They were big heavy drops, the kind that left tiny craters in the already moist dirt when they hit, the kind that presage floods and darkness and violent storms. But she felt she had a shelter from those storms now, for the first time in her adult life, and she would share that sense of safety with Clark as long as he needed her.
Maybe – if she were very, very fortunate – he wouldn’t ever stop needing her any more than she would always need him.
He stood and offered his hand. She smiled more easily and allowed him to lift her to her feet. She put her arm around his waist and guided him to the gate.
*****
The couple walking away from the grave marker stopped beside the little old man who looked – and felt – as if he were carrying the weight of a dozen worlds on his shoulders. He opened his bumbershoot and lifted it over his head. The rain intensified, drumming on the calfskin umbrella like a percussion clinic on amphetamines.
Not a simile Holmes or Watson would use, mused Wells to himself, nor would Samuel Johnson or even Boswell, but in his mind it sounded appropriate nonetheless.
Wells took a deep breath and stood straighter. “I am gratified that you have decided to go home, Clark. I fear Miss Lane would have remained with you, even in this torrential downpour, risking her own health for your well-being.”
Clark’s voice broke for a moment before it evened out. “Yeah. I – I think so too. And she’s already experienced too much of that risk.” He hesitated, then said, “Mr. Wells – I know you didn’t want any of this to happen.”
“No.” He dropped his gaze and fumbled with his own kerchief. “One never does.”
Lucy put out her free hand and touched his arm. “You aren’t used to this, are you?”
“Miss Lane, one never becomes fully accustomed to death, whether by natural or by violent means. Quite apart from that, I feel responsible for this entire situation.”
Clark shook his head. “You didn’t do this, Mr. Wells. She – we all did it.”
Wells pursed his lips and looked at the ground around his feet. “My boy, when one rolls a large stone down a hill, one is at least partially responsible for the damage done by the resulting avalanche.”
“That’s bull crap,” Henderson snorted. “Wells, you’re no more responsible for anyone else’s actions than I am the king of Prussia. People aren’t rocks, they have free will and make choices just like you and I do. You may have initiated this chain of events, but you didn’t make anyone try to kill anybody else.” He pulled the collar of his trench coat closer to his neck, then pointed at the older man’s face. “It isn’t your fault, so don’t try to make yourself out to be a martyr over this, okay?”
Wells sighed deeply. “I suppose you are correct, Inspector. It is still a heavy burden to carry.”
“Life happens whether we want it to or not, Wells, and sometimes it’s tough to handle. All you can do is get tough right along with it.”
“With that particular sentiment, I must agree wholeheartedly. Well, my friends, I am getting much wetter but no younger. I fear I must be on my way.”
Clark tilted his head. “That sounds more like ‘good-bye forever’ than ‘see you next week,’ Mr. Wells.”
“I believe it is. While no one may guarantee what might take place in the future, I do not plan to interfere in your lives again.”
“I don’t think of it as interference.” Clark smiled at the young brown-eyed woman holding his arm. She leaned her head over and rested it on his shoulder. “At least, not right now I don’t.”
Wells lifted one jaded eyebrow. “Thank you, young man. In any case, I bid you all a fond farewell, and I wish you long life and good fortune. Especially you, Clark. You certainly deserve it after all you have suffered.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wells. Inspector, are you here on business?”
He looked at Lucy. “Personal business. I wanted to make sure this lady gets where she’s going in one piece. She’s been through a pretty tough time lately.”
She grimaced at him. “We all have, Inspector. This has been a bad time for all of us.”
“Yep. Looks to me like you’re in good hands now, though. Oh, Clark, Mayson reminded me to tell you the kids are okay.”
Clark blinked once. “I knew that. I got them out of Sicily, remember?”
“I mean, they’re playing like real kids, having fun and yelling and running around and knocking stuff over and watching TV like any other brother and sister would. And they both love books. Apparently Clifford the big red dog is still popular with the preschool set.”
Lucy and Clark laughed with him. Bill continued, “They’ll probably need professional help to get through the really rough stuff ahead of them, but at least now they’ve got a fighting chance.”
Clark shook his head. “Poor kids. What’s going to happen to them? I mean, are they wards of the state of New Troy or what?”
“I don’t know. That’s something for the Sicilian government to work out with the State Department. But from what I’ve heard, Lucy will have some say in the matter. After all, she’s their closest relative. Along with her folks, of course, since they’re the only grandparents.”
Lucy rubbed her nose with her free hand. “I just thank God the kids are safe. And thank you, Clark. I don’t think anyone else could have saved them from that – that animal.”
“And Interpol has Rodolfo locked up in Germany,” Henderson said, “as a kind of apology for not getting him sooner. If I understand them correctly, your buddy Horst Müller is sitting on him. He’s not getting out of there any time soon, either. I imagine that they have several prosecutors sitting in a room gleefully thinking up more charges to file against him. He’ll go away for a long, long time, and he’ll serve that time in a lot of countries, assuming whoever tries him first doesn’t execute him.”
Lucy glanced over her shoulder to the marker Clark had finally left. “I hope someone does execute him,” she growled, “with a dull knife and a branding iron. I hope he dies slowly and painfully, screaming in agony, and I hope he burns forever in Hell for what he did.”
Clark squeezed her hand and changed the subject. “Do you know where James Olsen is, Inspector?”
Henderson nodded. “Sure do. He’s still sitting in Dominique Cox’s hospital room. That’s one tough lady, you know that? A lot of people with that kind of wound would have folded up and died right away, but she’s already sitting up and using a walker and giving her physical therapist all kinds of grief. The doctors say she should make a full recovery.”
“Good. Speaking of tough people, tough guy, how’s your side?”
He winced and pressed a hand to his rib cage. “Bruised but intact, thank you. I’m thankful that it wasn’t a heavier caliber round. The bullet came in at an indirect angle so it deflected off the vest and into the support beam beside the elevator. I expect that Mayor White will spin an Elvis yarn about it the next time he visits the newsroom.”
Clark nodded. “Probably.” He put his hand out. “Thank you. Thank you both.”
Henderson took his hand. “I’ll relay the message to my partner.”
“She doesn’t like the way this went down, does she?”
The handshake ended and both men lowered their arms. “No, but she understands why it’s happening. She won’t make any trouble for you or anyone else involved in this monumental snafu. And nobody’s going to advertise Lois Lane’s presence here in Metropolis or that this is where she actually died.”
Lucy pulled her collar closer to her neck. “A cover-up, Inspector?”
“What would you do if a professional assassin snuck into your city without you knowing about it?” he snapped.
Lucy blinked and looked away.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so abrupt.” Bill took a deep breath and let it out all at once. “Call it whatever you want to call it. That part of the story hasn’t been and won’t be released into the wild. As far as the general public knows, the other dead guy, Lester something, was the only shooter in that room.” He snorted. “Nobody looks very good for letting a professional contract assassin into the state, let alone two.”
Wells gasped and almost confessed to bringing Lois to Metropolis, but Clark spoke over whatever he might have said. “Is Lex Luthor safe now, or should I watch over him more closely?”
Bill shrugged. “I guess he’s okay. I do know that his business rival in Belgium is trying to answer some really hard questions from Interpol. This incident may not have been made public, but law enforcement officials from the East Coast to western Europe know that something big almost went down. They’re turning over rocks and stomping on pests all over both parts of the world.” He growled. “Rodolfo’s reach is turning out to be longer than we thought, even with Lois’s written testimony.”
“Will that be used in court?”
“Depends on the jurisdiction and how much evidence they need to smash these guys. Any way we look at it, the folks wearing the white hats are going to be busy for the next several years on this.”
Clark nodded. “How’s Mayson doing?”
“Personally? She’s taking it hard. It’s the first time she’s fired her weapon at anything other than a cardboard target. I think if I keep telling her that she saved my life, which she absolutely did, she might begin to believe it.”
“What about her job?” asked Lucy. “She’s still going to be a cop, isn’t she?”
“Sure. She’ll be on administrative leave for a couple more days. Standard procedure in a shooting case like this. She’ll be okay as far as the department goes. She’ll probably get a commendation, too.”
Lucy’s face hardened again. “For killing my sister?”
Bill sighed. “No. For saving the lives of at least four people, including her own. Lois Lane would have shot Mayson if she’d had the chance, and no telling how many more when she tried to escape.”
Lucy hesitated, then dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry. You – you’re right, I know. But I don’t think I’ll be able to be civil with her for a long time. This is all just too painful. But I am glad that Mayson is okay. And – and even though I don’t want to be best friends with her, please tell her that I don’t hate her for what she did. I know in my head she really didn’t have a choice.” She paused and sighed. “My heart is going to take a little longer to convince.”
”I’ll tell her. And I’m sure she won’t hold it against you. She’s really glad that Dominique’s okay, too, and that you’re on the mend, but don’t tell her I tattled on her and damaged her reputation as a true hard case. She’d drop me off a wharf somewhere and lose the paperwork.”
Clark lifted one eyebrow. “In that case, we won’t say a word. Besides, I’m sure we’ll see each other again before long.”
“I can promise you that, Kent. Your talents are too valuable to lose.” He took a step away, then spun around, flipping rainwater off his coat. “And call me Bill, okay?”
Clark smiled. “Okay, Bill. Tell Mayson ‘hi’ for me, won’t you?”
Bill pointed an index finger at Clark and quirked one side of his mouth upwards. “Man, for that one, you’re on your own.”
Clark laughed. It was a small laugh, but the sound of it warmed Wells’ heart and eased some of the pressure on his soul. Laughing was good. Laughing was positive. Life would, as the redoubtable inspector had said, continue on its own terms. All anyone really controlled was one’s own reaction to what life decided to throw in one’s way.
Clark turned to face the short, natty Englishman. “Mr. Wells, thank you.” Clark took the hand of the woman beside him and gave it a gentle squeeze. “We both thank you.”
Wells smiled sadly. “I fear that I hindered events more than the reverse, but you are welcome, both of you. This was not the outcome any of us desired, I know, but it is, at least, a final one.”
Lucy nodded and wiped some of the moisture – both nature’s and her own – from her face. “I’m going to take Clark home now, Mr. Wells. I hope you come by and at least check on us at some time in the future.”
Clark grinned. “Let’s hope it’s in the future.”
Wells frowned in thought for a moment, then chuckled for nearly two seconds. For him, and especially under the current circumstances, it was the equivalent of a sustained belly laugh. “Should I ever have the opportunity to make a return visit, it will be in your future, young man, I assure you. As for you, it would probably be for the best if you took this young lady home and allowed her to rest. Remember that she sustained a terrible blow to the head herself.”
“I’ll take care of her just like she’s going to take care of me.” Clark extended his hand. “Goodbye, Mr. Wells.”
She put her hand over their joined hands. “Goodbye, and thank you.”
“Goodbye, both of you. May your futures both be bright, and may you live long and happy lives.” He released their hands and made a shooing motion. “Now go! Preferably before the young lady contracts a serious case of pneumonia.”
Clark squinted slightly. “You mean there are humorous cases of pneumonia?”
They shared a another laugh, which settled into soft smiles. Slowly the couple turned away, then ran through the downpour toward Lucy’s minivan. Wells watched as Clark turned his smile to Lucy, whose eyes shone back at him with unconcealed fervor. They weren’t the eyes Wells had expected would shine at Clark when this entire painful episode had begun, but there was no mistaking the depth of feeling and commitment in them.
They would be fine. Wells knew that she would make sure of it.
Wells lifted his gaze and watched Henderson stalk around the expanding puddles to his car and get in. His partner, seated in the passenger seat, nodded to him and they drove away without a word to each other. He watched Clark gaze at Lucy until a hint of steam rose from her clothes. The two of them sat in the minivan until Henderson’s car spun past them, then they pulled away more sedately, but with the same sense of finality.
Wells was the last one left at the cemetery. He turned to look at the tombstone once more. The headlights from the departing cars illuminated the facing surface. Along with the birth and death dates – including the new, corrected date of her death – the epitaph read: Lois Lane, Beloved Daughter and Sister. We Will Miss You.
It was true. She had been loved, and she would be missed, deeply and painfully, by many.
He wondered at the vagaries of time and space, how different some realities were from others, and how such a small difference in any given reality could change so many things. Odd, he thought, that two who love each other so deeply and completely can be so close to each other for so many years and not quite realize how tightly they were linked. Here, in this time and space, in this universe, it was Lucy Lane, and not her sister Lois, who would be his companion as they began that fragile journey toward Utopia. Lucy was the person who completed him, who made him stronger than he ever could be alone. And they’d almost missed it, partly because of his interference and his own hubris in believing that Clark had to be with Lois Lane, and only Lois Lane, or Utopia would never exist.
He sighed. If Utopia came to be on this world – and the probabilities were high, according to his supervisors – it would do so from the combined efforts of Lucy and Clark. He’d nearly blocked their love from taking its proper course. He’d almost destroyed the future he so desperately wanted to create.
Well, that would not happen again. He was out of their lives forever. Nor would he ever again charge in blindly, cocksure and full of unmitigated gall and unreasoned arrogance, ready to correct a situation which required no correction.
He hoped that Clark and Lucy would be happy together for a long, long time.
He smiled to himself, then turned to walk toward his time machine. Perhaps he would make a return visit after all, say, two decades in their future, just to check on them. What harm could possibly result?
# # #
