table of contents I have to put a slight warning on this part. Although there is somewhat of a painful turn of events, this IS NOT a death fic! It could be argued it's dang close.
Just plow on through. I think it's worth the read. And because this part is so difficult, I will post another part tomorrow. Thanks again for reading.
++++
Clark had been put into the backs of vans, the bellies of planes, thrown into empty rooms, and now was being led through dark, damp corridors. They were traveling downward, into the belly of what could only be termed a dungeon. He’d made a few inquiries earlier and they were ignored or answered with a firm order to shut up. He’d remained silent about his true identity for fear of the unknown. He couldn’t risk the safety of his parents or Lois for that of his own. No. He’d wait and when the moment was right, he’d escape and try to help sort this whole mess out. It had been nearly two days since he’d been taken from the courthouse. Lois should be home and about ready to crack this case wide open.
Clark was halted outside a door. One of the guards turned to him and ordered him to strip. He was asked to hand over his shoestrings and was given a thin shirt and pants. All of his other personal items had already been taken days before. Once the guards were satisfied with his appearance, one of them opened the door and the other shoved Clark inside.
“Get comfortable. You’re going to be here a while.”
The door clanged shut, sounding loudly off the walls. Clark let his gaze roam over his surroundings even as his mind raced to understand why he was suddenly in so much pain.
That could only mean one thing: kryptonite. His eyes roamed the cell that was only about ten feet by ten feet, made of stone. There was nothing in the tiny place save the pan on the floor by the door and the bucket in the corner. He could only imagine the use for that. Could they have hidden the rock under one of the stones? That had to be the explanation. The deadly substance had to be here. What other explanation could there be for how he felt? And if that was true, did that mean someone had figured out who he was? Is that why he was here, in this place? Was someone getting revenge in a sick, demented way? Could that mean his parents and Lois were now in trouble? Would they suffer because of him?
No, that couldn’t be true, he immediately told himself. If whoever had done this wanted to hurt Lois, she would have been subjected to their evil plans when they had her in their clutches, assuming ‘they’ were part of the police force that had put him in this prison.
He sighed heavily. This was a little worse than he’d first thought. His head swam as he became lightheaded. If there really was kryptonite here, how would he live through it? He struggled over to the wall and sank to sit in the stream of sunlight coming in through the small opening at the top of the cell. Hopefully the life giving rays would be enough to keep him alive until help could come. He could already feel his powers starting to drain. He’d horribly underestimated his captors and now it might cost him his life.
<<Please help me figure a way out of this.>> He closed his eyes and tried to remember happier days.
~^~^~^~^~^~^~
Lois threw the file across the desk. Nothing. Always nothing. She’d been consumed with trying to figure out what had happened to Clark. She’d returned home nearly two weeks ago and had used every contact she could think of to find out what had happened to him.
Lois had rushed from the airport when she got home straight to Clark’s apartment. The place had been torn apart. Though nothing seemed to have been taken, it was obvious someone had been looking for something. Knowing it was useless, she still busied herself picking through the remains only to come up empty handed.
That night she settled in Clark’s bed, clutching the shirt he’d worn the night before they left for South America. It still held the faint smell of Clark’s scent and helped comfort her a little. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she had figured out that he was Superman until the following day. She had only been concerned for the man she’d fallen in love with and spent the last few days with.
Martha and Jonathan flew in the next day and together the trio went to work to find out what happened to Clark.
Hot tears had stung Lois’ eyes as she looked at the two people alive who loved Clark as much as she did and told them their son had been convicted of ludicrous crimes, then sentenced to some third world prison. Martha’s strength had shown through as the older woman grasped the information she’d been given. Yet, it was all too plain for Lois to see a mother was dying inside for the loss of her son. Jonathan was there to offer comfort that only he could; a strong arm around her shoulders, a firm grip cupped around her small arm.
Once the Kents had collected themselves, they sat down and listened while Lois related everything that had happened in the past few days. She told them about her confession of love for their son, only to be engulfed her Martha’s arms. The older woman told her she was so glad the younger couple had finally come to their senses and admitted their love for one another. Lois went on to tell them about the three days of bliss she and Clark had shared, then about the disagreement just before the trip to South America. She continued with the details of the investigation, their arrest, Clark’s trial and conviction. Lois also told them that Clark had shared a certain secret with her. Both Martha and Jonathan agreed he’d done that for Lois’ peace of mind, but they were also happy that he’d chosen to share all of himself with a woman he loved. That night a young woman was welcomed into a new home and the bonds of family were solidified.
The trio had searched diligently since then for answers to their mystery. Nothing had panned out. Tips from sources went dry almost immediately. No one knew why this had happened to a reporter from the Daily Planet. Perry had called in every favor he was owed. Other than the initial arrest and trial, nothing else could be found to indicate that Clark Kent had ever been to Port Stanley. Whoever was doing this had virtually wiped him from the surface of the planet.
Disgusted beyond belief, Lois was coming to the end of her rope. She’d never give up. Clark needed her. She would fight with every fiber in her being not to let him down. But she couldn’t spend every second on it anymore. Perry needed her to cover other stories. The Kents had reluctantly gone back home to run the farm, and she’d promised them she’d bring their son home. Only now that was something that seemed to be impossible.
Lois and the Kents had taken into consideration that Clark was still Superman and that he would eventually get out of wherever they’d taken him. When he didn’t come back after a week, everyone began to worry that his secret had been discovered and he was unable to escape. By the end of the second week, they all knew something went horribly wrong. Lois quickly composed an article that stated Superman had to attend to some personal problems. Though not a total lie, it left a lot of unanswered questions. If Clark couldn’t be found, Lois would have to write a more in depth article at a later date.
She’d called in the FBI and other government agencies. They, too, had come up empty. It seemed they had no authority in the small South American country and it would be almost impossible to get an American out of one of those prisons. Without anymore options, Lois had even called Lex. That would probably have gone over like a ton of bricks with Clark. But Lex did have contacts and pull all over the world. Only this time even he had come up empty. Lois wanted to cry at the thought that Clark might not come home again. She lowered her head to hold it in her hands.
“Lois Lane?”
She looked up to see a messenger standing in front of her desk. “Yes?”
“This is for you.”
Lois took the offered envelope and opened it slowly. It was telegram from the Kents. As she read, she went pale and her heart screamed in pain.
^~^~^~^~^~^~
Lois stood silently beside the Kents. They had gotten the official message from the Department of Foreign Affairs in response to their many inquiries into Clark’s arrest, trial, and imprisonment. It read simply,
“This is to inform you that on April 14, 1993, in accordance with the laws established by this country, Clark Jerome Kent was found guilty of possession of narcotics and murder in the first degree. On April 18 at 12 noon, local time, he was executed for his crimes. Due to the nature of his crimes, it is our right to dispose of his body in our facility. May God have mercy on his soul.”
Lois would have never believed the correspondence if it hadn’t been for the fact that Martha and Jonathan’s message came with his effects. His wallet, items that had been in his pockets, his clothes, shoes, his glasses, and a lock of his hair were all included. Lois, being the type of reporter she was, had immediately had the hair sent for DNA confirmation with other strands she’d gotten from his mother, hair Martha had cut from Clark’s head before he’d become invulnerable. Two days later the results were conclusive. Both samples belonged to Clark. That, by itself, didn’t mean he was dead, but the simple fact that hair had been cut from Clark’s head at all did indicate that something had gone horribly wrong.
Government agencies were contacted again. Each insisted it was not their place to interfere with another country’s laws. However, the UN sent a representative to discover what had actually happened to the reporter. The official report that came back was delivered personally to the Kents’ residence, just as the official notice of Clark’s execution had been, by a representative of the United Nations and stated that conclusive evidence had been discovered to substantially determine Clark’s guilt. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ was the last the little family would glean from their government.
Martha and Jonathan had been devastated. Lois had flown to Smallville immediately after she’d received the telegraph from the Kents informing her that something was wrong with Clark. Martha had fully denied that her son could be dead. He was invulnerable! How could he have been executed? The trio threw around scenario after scenario, trying desperately to cling to some kind of hope that Clark was still alive and that this was all some kind of horrible mistake. When the DNA report came back proving beyond doubt that the lock of hair was indeed Clark’s, the small family had had to face the fact that something far more serious had taken place.
Did Clark’s mysterious murderer know he was Superman? Had they injected him with some liquid form of Kryptonite to be able to kill him so quickly? Or was this all some kind of cruel joke? Was Clark alive somewhere, suffering an unbearable fate? Those thoughts led Lois back to Port Stanley, unable and unwilling to accept the UN’s evaluation of the situation. What she discovered in the small country had nearly killed her. Lois had spoken to the executor himself, after several days of insisting the authorities give her some kind of answers she could live with. The officer told her that Clark had become ill when he’d been put into his cell and had almost welcomed his death to end his suffering.
“It was over quickly,“ she’d been told. Though she had a nearly impossible time believing the man, eventually her heart had to face the facts presented to her. She’d spent the next two days swirling all the events around in her head. Somewhere during that time she realized that the person who’d done this thing knew Clark and while this person might not have known he was Superman, it was well known Clark and Superman were friends. With that fact, Kryptonite could have been used as insurance in case Superman showed up to attempt an escape for his friend. Unbeknownst to anyone, Superman was already there. For Clark, that meant possible deadly results. In this case, possible had become reality.
Lois took her devastating news back to Smallville to Clark’s parents. Together, the small group grieved that night, finally accepting with their mind what they had refused to accept with their heart. They just couldn‘t believe that Clark was gone. However, the following day a memorial service was planned for the son and most recently, the companion that was lost. The more rational side of the adults knew they had to let Clark go. It would do none of them any good to hold on to something that couldn’t be again.
Martha had insisted they erect a small stone in Clark’s memory. It was placed beside his great-grandfather Kent’s stone in the family plot in Mt. Olive Cemetery in Smallville. Nearly all the town had turned out to say their good-byes to the wonderful man that would never come home again.
With the service over, the crowd began to slowly file away. Lois remained behind, looking down at the name on the stone. Never again would she see the man that name belonged to. She wouldn’t see his smile, hear his laugh, or feel his touch.
“Oh, Clark,” she breathed through fresh tears. “I will always love you. I won’t rest until your killers are brought to justice.” She bent and placed the rose she held on the stone. “You’ll never be forgotten. And I will never forget how much you loved me those last days.” She stood and hurried to catch up to the car waiting to take them back to the farm. She may have lost the only man she had ever been truly loved by, but she found solace in the family he left behind.
~^~^~^~^~^~^~
What time was it now? Hell, what day was it? How long had he been here? Weeks? It seemed like years.
He laughed out loud. How stupid could one man be? His determination to keep his secret quiet had caused that secret to become nonexistent. Though he knew he couldn’t just blurt out that he was Superman, he could have taken into consideration the severity of his situation. But no…
He’d thought it would be a piece of cake to wait a day or two before escaping. Only he hadn’t thought about the lack of sunlight and he certainly hadn’t expected kryptonite to be buried in his cell. At least he could rest a little easier knowing those bastards didn’t know about his other identity. They’d come back into his cell a few days after he’d been thrown in and dug up the fatal rock. It was just a small piece, buried near the door, but it had done its damage. The guards had joked to each other in Spanish about how the ‘flying hero’ had failed to come for his friend. Unaware Clark could understand their taunts, they’d continued about how, if the boy wonder had come, they had been instructed to kill him slowly.
It was a relief to Clark to know the kryptonite had been put there as insurance in case the super hero showed. While they didn’t know he actually had, which Clark felt was tragically ironic, it did relieve his anxiety about his family having to suffer because of his secret.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered. It may have been some consolation his secret hadn’t been revealed, but it didn’t help solve his dilemma. His exposure to the green gloater had lasted long enough to drain his powers. The lack of sunlight would ensure those wouldn’t return.
That had been… how long ago? He wasn’t sure any more. It had been long enough for his hair to grow below his collar and his slow growing whiskers to start to resemble a beard.
The guards had come for his shoes on what he estimated to be the second week he was locked away. They had also cut a lock of his hair. Knowing his invulnerability was completely gone, he realized he was in deep trouble. He’d spent the next three days trying to figure a way out of the whole mess. But Clark became frustrated and decided it was easier to accept his fate. He’d searched frantically for an escape, any escape, with none to be found. It would be up to Lois and his folks now. And he’d decided that was all the help he needed.
Where was everyone? He’d thought that the day he gave up and every day since. How long ago had that been? He had no idea. It had been well after the day they came for his shoes. He’d been convinced it was only a matter of time before someone discovered what had happened and he was on his way out of this dungeon. But no one had come for him. No one had figured out what happened to him. Were they even trying? Would they give up on him as easily as he’d given up on himself? That had been the thought that had made him realize that no matter what, he couldn’t lay down and die. There had to be a way out of this and he’d find it… sooner or later.
tbc...
