Shortsummary : Lois disappears from existence. Can Clark break through whatever caused it to bring back his true memory and his true love?

This is based extremely loosely on the 'Remember Me' episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation and also on the 'Chainfire' Trilogy which ended The Sword of Truth fantasy series by Terry Goodkind.

If you like one or the other of them then read on ... you may enjoy this. If you don't like them then STILL read on as the story is only tentatively, loosely, vaguely, barely based on those stories.

Chapter 1: Unexplained Mysteries at the Farm

He felt her warm body spooning up to his. A hand sneaked round to his chest. He moaned as she trailed a lazy circle on his chest. It skimmed higher and higher until it reached his nipple. He felt hot breath whisper in his ear.

'Morning honey.'

He groaned and fluttered his eyes closed as his nipple hardened into a peak, then flipped over to face her. He brought a finger up to her cheek and her palm rested open on his chest.

'Morning to you too.' They smiled at each other. He leaned forwards and gently touched her lips with his.

He teased ever so slightly then pulled back. He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes flicked between hers and then down to her mouth and he descended once more. This time there was no teasing, just hot, immediate passion. His fingers slipped all the way into her hair and he felt her hand travel up his chest and to his shoulder.

The touch of her fingers was like electricity. His body tingled and hummed with the pulse of her heart ringing in his ears. They became entangled in an exotic embrace, his legs trapping hers.

As both heart rates soared and the heat increased he slid her under his body and then held himself up on strong arms. Lost in her eyes for an eternity he knew he was home. Every time it felt this way. Completely loved, completely accepted ... utterly desired.

Sliding between her legs he positioned himself and dropped his head to capture her mouth. He moved his body to cover hers but it suddenly felt like she was too far away. He opened his eyes but found the air around thick with mist.

He reached out with a hand to grasp her fingers. She gripped tightly, so tightly that he felt fingernails in his palm. A wind whistled around them and he felt tugging on his hand; she was being drawn away. He reached out his other hand and grasped her but it didn't help; the tugging increased.

He held tighter but was afraid that he was crushing her fingers. The howling wind increased and he felt her body being whisked away. He held onto her but she was slipping.

He could hear her shouting; screaming his name. He called after her but the wind captured the words and sent them off into the ether. The whistling wind blew faster and stronger and her fingers slipped from his grasp.

"NO!" he screamed and flailed his arms around trying to grab her again but when the wind died down and the mist cleared he was alone.

Clark woke and dragged a hand down his face. He felt a weight in his chest and emptiness in his stomach. ItfeelslikeI'vesleptthroughastorm.MaybeI'mflashingbacktothattropicalstormontheislandthreedaysago.

The wind speed had been phenomenal. Houses had splintered into matchsticks, palm trees had been ripped out of the ground. How lucky, the locals said, that Superman had flown over to help. Little did they know that he had been there for five days already, on vacation with his mother.

Clark sat up. Whereisshe? He looked around at his ruffled bed sheets. He was scooted all the way over to one side of the bed to make room for ... for who? WhywouldIneedtomakeroomforanyone?

He shook his head to dispel the last remnants of sleep and then climbed out of bed. As he shuffled across the floor and into the bathroom he ran his hand through his hair. He rested on the sink and stared into the mirror. He examined his morning stubble and felt it with his hand. Needtokeepthatshort,Kent.Shedoesn'ttakekindlytoshreddedlips.

She? Clark caught himself. Shewho?

Rummaging through his toiletry bag he eventually came across the special piece of metal that allowed him to shave.

Can't wait to get back to the apartment. Vacations are great, but I just hate living out of suitcases. Although, it's nice to have spent the time with ma and to spend a couple of days at the farm too.

Back in the bedroom he searched though his case for a clean shirt but when his hand tangled in something lacy he pulled it back out in shock. Huh!WhydoIhavearedlacybrainmycase? He looked back down and did a quick x-ray but could find no further wayward clothes.

Clark shrugged and tossed it onto a chair next to the bed, dismissing it as a strange, unexplainable, but forgettable situation.

"Morning sleepyhead," came his mother's voice as he descended the steps to the kitchen.

"Hi mom," he replied. He looked up to see her pulling a tray out of the oven.

"I made some pancakes for you if you're hungry." She indicated a pile on the table then placed the tray of muffins at the other end.

Clark smiled. "You know I'm always hungry for your pancakes ma."

"So are you and ... er ..." she paused and frowned. "Are you back to work today?"

"Yup," he replied, biting into his breakfast, "back into the bull-pen this morning."

"And the apartment?" she asked while turning away to pour a coffee.

"Not till tomorrow, they don't finish fumigating till tonight, so I'll be back here later." Clark dropped his hand to rest it on the table. "You know, ma. I'm so glad I was kicked out of my apartment last week to allow the pest controllers in. We don't spend enough time together. I think I'll miss you once I'm back home again."

"Oh, sweety. I've loved this week together. I'm still surprised I could get time off at such short notice but the free vacation was too good to pass up." She put down a coffee in front of Clark. "You should come home for a proper meal regularly once I'm finally finished and settled back here."

"Will do, ma. It's probably the only way I'll get a home-cooked meal. I don't have time to cook for myself very often."

"Yeah, I guess even with super-speed you still spend most of your free time ... 'Super!'." She did a nod to the side to emphasise the word and Clark grinned.

He picked his pancake back up and glanced around the table. He noticed a space off to his left. There was a chair and it felt like someone should sit there. He reached out for a plate and slid it into place while taking more bites of pancake. Martha turned and watched. She tightened her eyes when the plate was in place.

"Who's that for?" she asked.

"I don't know ... just ... someone."

"Yes," she said wistfully, "someone."

Clark finished off his breakfast, all the while staring at the empty plate. He gulped down a glass of orange juice and sped to the door. As he opened it he turned back.

"I'm gonna patrol extra tonight, need to catch up after being away for a week. Don't want the criminals thinking Metropolis is their city again." Clark tipped his head. "Mom?" She wasn't listening. She was staring across the kitchen to the wall. She slowly walked over reaching out her hand.

Clark wondered if he had slipped into super-speed with how slow she was going but when she spoke it was at normal speed.

"This picture," she reached out to one on the wall. "It's wrong."

"What?" Clark asked. She turned and blinked.

"Oh. It's just that I don't remember putting it up."

Clark wandered over from the door to look at where his mother was pointing. It was a wedding picture. His mom and dad were looking at each other, a candid shot.

"I kept it at the back of the album. I would never have chosen to put it on the wall." She looked back to Clark again. "I don't like the expression on my face. And look" she pointed once more, "your dad's tie is all skew."

Martha shook her head and turned back to Clark. She peered into his eyes and pleaded with him to explain; as if he might have the answer. "How did this picture get up here?"

"I don't know," Clark glanced around the room and began wandering. Trailing his fingers along the wall and touching each picture as he passed he examined them.

"I don't think this one is right either." He stopped by a small side table and picked up an old picture. "Why would I have this picture out?" He turned a showed it to his mother. He and Lana were sat on a picnic blanket on the edge of the woods. Happy smiles adorned both faces. Looking at the picture Clark couldn't recall what that happiness felt like. "We've not been together in years. And this is such an old picture, from the first relationship attempt I think. This feels wrong."

Martha wandered over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. It trembled a little. "Clark, do you think someone broke in while we were away?"

"What ... and changed the pictures," he chuckled and smiled. "That's not why people break into houses, ma," he replied playfully.

"I guess not," she hung her head and laughed at her silly outburst. "It's just strange," she said wistfully.

Clark placed the picture back on the table, face down and reached to hug his mother. "It'll be fine mom. Maybe we're just tired."

"Tired from what? All that terrible rest we got in the Bahamas?" she teased.

Clark chuckled. "Don't wait up ma," and sped off.