One night, I was chatting with my friends LabRat and CC Aiken on IRC. As so often happens, we got to discussing fanfic (go figure) and stories we had and hadn’t-but-should read. Then we veered into talking about stories we absolutely loved and how we wished so-and-so had explored this one or two particular angle that sounded intriguing. I think they call it arm-chair quarterbacking <g>. One thing led to another, and a little what-if seed was planted in my brain. It grew exponentially overnight until I woke up the next morning with a full grown redwood tree sprouting out of the top of my head. I put away everything else in my life, wrote like a demon, drove CC and LabRat nearly homicidal by dumping chapter after chapter into their in-boxes, and generally became obsessed until this story left my brain.
To that end, I want to give heartfelt thanks to my invaluable beta reader, LabRat. I owe her more than I can ever express. Her patience and stamina are immeasurable.
Thanks also go to Tricia W. who acted as my consultant on all things Australian. Believe me, if not for her, you’d be laughing at parts where I’d never intended such a reaction because of the crazy words I had misused <g>. Too, her research and information solved some big-time problems that I had and just generally made my life a piece of cake.
And also thanks to CC Aiken, who acted as my cheerleader through all of this, giving me a big boost just as I was starting to sag and urged me to keep going. And going...and going <g>.
All standard disclaimers apply. Any recognizable characters and/or dialogue from the television series “Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman” are the property of DC Comics and Warner Bros. No infringement on copyright is intended. All other characters are wholly my own.
Before we get started, a small...ok, substantially bigger than small...warning...
This fanfic explores a very dark premise. It contains violence, sometimes graphically portrayed, and some big WHAMs. If you do not like stories that depict our characters in extremely trying situations, doing things that might upset you, you may not enjoy this one.
I'm simultaneously posting this story on the Nfic thread, and if you have no objections and are of-age, I suggest reading it there as it is the version I had originally intended.
Also, I’m not going to divulge how many segments there are, suffice it to say this is epical in length – it’s going to be a long haul. Think “Masques” without the palm trees <g>.
If, after knowing this, the remaining two or three of you choose to read anyway, I’ll be posting on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I thank you for your time and I hope you enjoy the story.
Without further ado.
L.
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Haunting Eden
By Lynn M.
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Clark Kent bent over the stack of papers. They’d been rifling through the files and shuffling sheets back and forth for hours. So long, in fact, no one remained in the darkened office except the cleaning staff. Yet still nothing made sense. Nothing concrete had appeared to connect Dr. Samuel Platt with EPRAD and therefore to Dr. Baines. Nothing that would prove the explosion of the space shuttle Messenger was anything more than a tragic accident. Nothing that would make the story.
Even with his limited experience, Clark felt the sharp pang of frustration. The answers were there, so very close at hand if only they could manage to piece it all together. His first story at the Daily Planet. The first real story of his fledgling career.
Behind him, Lois emitted her own sigh of frustration. Or it could have just been a normal breath, he wasn’t sure. Everything Lois did registered high on his sensitivity meter. Despite the concentration he’d given the task at hand, he’d been acutely aware of her presence, even the heat from her body seeping across the space separating them. Then again, he’d been highly aware of Lois for the past two days, ever since Perry White had teamed them together for this story.
He’d never met anyone like her. Tough. Sharp as a tack. Gorgeous beyond belief. A woman who knew what she wanted and didn’t care who she had to mow over to get it. She made him feel unlike he’d ever felt before.
Stupid. Clumsy. Inexperienced.
Delirious. Hopeful. Excited.
Breathless.
He inhaled deeply, allowing the scent of her to fill his nose. Her own, unique essence of warm skin mixing with the vanilla of her perfume to create something altogether heady. His heart started to hammer. He’d been doing that a lot. Breathing her in. Perhaps the reason he hadn’t managed to make sense of all of the paper stacked in front of him. When she was so close, he couldn’t concentrate properly.
He was going to have to learn how to control that if he hoped to keep working with this woman. Because he had every intention of working with her until he’d earned her respect. Her admiration. Her –
“This is impossible. Nothing matches. No dates. We’re never gonna get through this.” Lois let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, and I’m starving. Wish I knew some good Chinese takeout.”
So her sigh had been one of frustration. Mixed with hunger. And while he’d have loved to have discovered some significant clue which would tie all of the bits and pieces together, dazzling her with his cleverness, he had nothing.
But he could do something about the Chinese takeout. If he couldn’t impress her brain, certainly he could impress her stomach.
“I know a place,” he said, laying a scrap of paper with a few handwritten phone numbers on it back on top of the pile. He stood. “I’ll be right back.”
Lois glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t you even want to know what I want?”
He thought a minute as he grabbed his coat. Chances were she would request Americanized versions of Chinese dishes, nothing on the menu of the particular restaurant he had in mind. “Oh, I’ll bring an assortment.”
He waited until he reached the stairwell before invoking super-speed and then flight. Within seconds, he’d reached Shanghai and Lu Cho’s, his favorite hole-in-the-wall from that particular corner of the world. While Lu amassed an assortment of Clark’s favorite dishes, his wife, Mi, chatted with him, grinning proudly as Clark told her of his position as the Daily Planet’s newest reporter. Mi and Lo had known him well in his wandering days, serving as his adopted parents half a world from home.
The entire enterprise took just the right amount of time, and about twenty minutes after leaving her Clark placed several containers on the piles Lois still shuffled back and forth.
She blinked and turned towards the bamboo containers. “That was quick.”
“I took a shortcut,” he said as he removed his coat and draped it over the cubicle wall. It wasn’t a lie, really.
Lois reached for the first container. “It’s still hot.” She untied the twine and lifted off the lid of the container containing perfectly formed dumplings, emitting an appreciative “Ahh” as the fragrant steam wafted upward. Reaching in, she pulled one out and inhaled deeply, then took a bite. “Mmmm. Oh, this is out of this world!”
Clark grinned. He’d actually managed to impress the jaded Miss Lane. All he had to do was keep her well fed and maybe she’d eventually warm up to him as a partner.
They ate the food in a silence broken only with Lois’s unconcealed enjoyment as she opened carton after carton. Clark abandoned all efforts to work, instead leaning back against the wall to watch Lois eat, something she did with nearly as much enthusiasm as she tackled a new story. He liked that. There was something wholly pleasing about a woman who enjoyed good food so openly. He had a feeling Lois lived her entire life that way. Love it or hate it, there was simply no middle ground, and she’d let you know where she stood, either way.
Finally the cartons were empty, and Clark reached into the last one, filled to the brim with fortune cookies. Lois had chosen one already, and with a crisp snap she broke the delicate gold crust and extracted the slip of paper.
She studied it for a second, her eyebrows lowering and a frown pulling the corners of her mouth in disappointment. “It’s in Chinese.”
Clark grinned. Another chance to impress her. He pulled the fortune from her fingers.
“Oh don’t tell me that you read – ” she protested, but he’d already skimmed the intricate text.
“A good horse is like a member of the family,” Clark translated with a broad grin, silently giving thanks to the genes that allowed him to absorb languages like a sponge.
Lois gave him an exasperated sneer and snatched the fortune he extended toward her. “I hate that. That is not a fortune.”
He laughed. She obviously had never needed a good horse. She didn’t ask him what his fortune said. The longest journey begins with a single step.
“You are a strange one, Clark Kent,” she observed with a wry grin after studying him intensely, much like she might view an exotic insect pressed under a piece of glass.
Clark held her gaze, unblinking. “Am I?”
Her eyes narrowed, and she nodded slightly. “Yeah, but I think I’ve got you figured out.”
His breathing tighten. Had she seen something? Noticed that he didn’t move like other people? Saw and heard things nobody else did? She was a sharp one, and he started hoping she meant what he thought she did.
“Really?” he asked as coolly as he could manage.
“Mmmhmm.”
The response was knowing, but too casual. Too unimpressed, which sent a bolt of disappointment straight through his chest. She didn’t seem to know his secret. He couldn’t imagine she’d be so blasé if she did, and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He was still alone. At least for now.
Still, did this mean she was actually flirting with him? Was it possible she felt it, too? The connection that had gripped him the very first moment he saw her in Perry’s office. His heart started to hammer again, his blood running fast.
Anxious to see how far this might go, he played along, lobbing the ball back to her. “Didn’t take you very long.”
Lois grinned knowingly. “Well, it’s my business looking beyond the external.”
He studied her for a long minute. She was flirting with him. He was certain of it...
“Don’t fall for me, farm boy,” she said. “I don’t have time for it.”
Don’t fall for me farm boy...
Clark’s eyes popped open. With a sharp gasp, he struggled to pull air into his lungs. Around him darkness pressed like a living thing. Not the humming darkness of a deserted office, but the sterile black of a void. It took a second to fully register as his mind cleared. He wasn’t at the Daily Planet.
He tried to sit up, but his upper arms and chest were held fast, secured by thick restraining belts. A quick check revealed that his legs were similarly immobile, and a sharp pain shot through his thigh when he flexed it.
His eyes adjusted to reveal that he wasn’t surrounded in empty blackness. Tiny spots of light contributed their rainbow colors to produce a slight dimness. Twisting his head as far as he was able, he could make out a glass pane lining the wall over his left shoulder, lights blinking on consoles located beyond its protection. A dark shadow moved across the space, pausing for a second as if the figure looked in on him.
With a rush of ice cold clarity, he remembered. All of it. Where he was. And more importantly, how he’d come to be there.
As panic flooded through his veins, he breathed in and out slowly, trying desperately to fill his mind with the lingering vanilla and warm skin which had moments before surrounded him so completely. Lois. Always he turned to her to find calm. If he could just bring back her smell...
Instead all that met his nose was the sharp stinging scent of stainless steel. The icy slab underneath his back. His hand, unrestrained below the elbow, flew to his chest. Underneath the smooth spandex he felt the outline of the thin gold chain, his fingers working down its length to the hard circular ridge hanging at its end. Her wedding ring. Still there, where it belonged.
Closing his eyes, he forced himself to call forth her face. With careful concentration, he let his mind roam over every millimeter of her features, ending at last on her dark brown eyes. There he finally found peace. For a short time, at least.
» ж «
Lois fumbled with her keys as she struggled to hold the heavy grocery bag aloft. She’d done it before, of course. A million times before. But as everything did now, it seemed so much harder. Her arms and hands didn’t work as efficiently as they once had. Or perhaps her mind had been dulled.
And in the end, she realized she didn’t really much care. She worked on automatic pilot nearly all of the time now. Nearly everything she did was a chore performed by rote, done out of habit and in an effort to add some tiny semblance of normalcy to her days.
Slamming the door shut with a firm kick, she crossed to the kitchen and placed the bag on the table, sparing a glance at the answering machine that blinked insistently. She placed her keys in the basket next to the phone and pressed the ‘play’ button, then returned to the grocery bag.
“Lois, it’s Perry. Missed you before you left. Listen...uh, Alice and I were wondering if you’d like to come on over tonight for some dinner. Nothing fancy. Thought I might fire up the barbeque one more time before it gets too cold...Well, give us a call, anyway.”
She sighed. Lately there’d been a similar message on her machine almost every night. Either Perry or Alice, a few times Jimmy even, calling to tell her to come around for dinner or to watch a video or play a game of cards.
Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out the unopened quart of milk which had expired a week earlier and the moldy vegetables liquefying in the crisper. She retrieved the new milk and replacement carrots and lettuce out of the grocery bag and put them in their spots. She noticed the eggs had expired over two months ago, so she grabbed the container and tossed the entire dozen into the trash. As she did most nights, she closed the refrigerator door, ignoring its contents with a stomach which never seemed to feel hunger any more.
She knew Perry was worried about her. He’d told her she needed to get out. When she’d glared at his implication, he’d rushed to assure her he meant she needed to spend time with friends. With him and Alice or even to hang around with Jimmy. Anything to get her out of the house or away from her desk. And while she appreciated his concern, as well as that of Jonathan and Martha who called almost as frequently, she felt no guilt when she went straight to her bedroom without turning on any lights or returning Perry’s phone call.
As she pulled her faded jersey nightgown over her head, she glanced at the clock. Almost eight. She was exhausted. Maybe she’d be able to sleep. Just to be sure, she headed to the bathroom, pulling the sleeping tablets from their spot in the drawer. Over the course of the past six months, she’d gone from half a pill to a full one, and around three weeks ago, she’d skipped the pill and half dosage going straight to two complete tablets.
More than once had she contemplated taking a dozen or more of the tiny white pills. But that wouldn’t do. Maybe tonight would be the night. Tossing the pills down with a glass of lukewarm water, she forced herself to remain positive. If she became upset, started to cry before even trying, she might miss him.
Padding back to the living room, she sat down on the sofa and pulled her feet under her knees. Following the ritual, she grabbed the throw pillow into her lap, wrapping her arms tightly around it. She closed her eyes, trying desperately to empty her mind. Even her thoughts needed to be perfectly silent or his smallest whisper could be drowned out.
Because up until three weeks ago, she’d felt him. Could even swear he spoke to her. Whispered that he loved her and missed her. Wanted more than anything to come home and hold her forever. And in her heart she’d answered, knowing, somehow, he heard her as well.
It had become the sole driving force in her life. Those brief minutes every evening when she sat cross-legged on the sofa, hugging her throw pillow as if she held him in her arms while the soothing cadence of his voice murmured his longings and promises to return to her. Proof that light years could never take him away from her, not as long as he lived in her heart where he belonged.
But late that September, as the leaves had started their color dance, her world was shattered nearly as completely as the day he’d flown out the massive window of the Daily Planet.
That’s when she’d stopped hearing from him.
He’d been gone over six months. Or rather, one hundred ninety eight days and five hours to be exact. Sometimes at night, when she’d lie in bed staring at the ceiling, she even managed to calculate the minutes. When she contemplated how high she was going to have to count, the tears started to flow.
And now that she hadn’t felt him in nearly a month, panic, fear, and complete despair fought for first position in her heart. Had he stopped reaching out to her because he was no longer able to do so? Had he been injured? Killed?
She shuddered at the thought. He couldn’t be dead. She’d know if he had died. She was certain of it. Something would change inside of her. The last scrap of beating heart that pushed her to wake up every morning to face another day without him would wither up and die, taking her along with it.
But if he wasn’t dead, then why hadn’t he tried to reach her? Had he forgotten about her? Decided the distance was simply too much, or since there was little chance that he could ever return continued communication was pointless. Maybe the pleas coming from her heart for him to come home to her had been too painful for him, so he’d just stopped listening.
Perhaps he and Zara had decided to try to make a go of their marriage. Perhaps he’d begun to develop feelings for her. After all, Zara was Kryptonian while Lois was...an alien.
With an iron will, she forced herself to stop listing the reasons that plagued her every waking minute. She needed to listen. Focus.
For a half an hour she remained motionless on the sofa, waiting. Around her the sounds of life were nearly deafening. The steady hum of the fish tank’s aerator. The sounds of the traffic in the street below. The click of the clock as the minutes ticked past.
Nothing. No whispers. Nothing at all but the beating of her own heart.
Maybe it had been the stress. Or maybe she really had been going crazy to think Clark had ever spoken to her across the cosmos. She didn’t know or really care.
She only knew that she finally had to accept that whatever it had been, it had stopped. She couldn’t hear him anymore, and he couldn’t hear her.
Silent tears flowed down her cheeks as she fed the fish and double checked the locks. She no longer sobbed. Being loud in her misery didn’t lessen the pain at all, she’d learned after suffering days of aching ribs and near laryngitis.
The sleeping pills were starting to work their magic, her head growing thick and heavy. She trudged back to the bedroom, wading through the clothes littering the floor. She’d forgotten to stop at the dry cleaners yet again. Which meant she had nothing to wear to work the next day. With a withering glance at the maroon suit draped over the chair, she sighed. She’d already worn it once that week because it was the least wrinkled thing in her closet. It would have to do again. No one would dare remark about it. Even if they did, she didn’t care.
Without bothering to brush her teeth, she dropped into bed, wincing at the bunched blankets and linens underneath her. Maybe she’d actually make it in the morning, the way she used to. Maybe not.
He was gone. So really, she didn’t give a damn about anything anymore.
» ж «
Clark glanced around the vast warehouse, cluttered with the remains of the destroyed space shuttle and various parts necessary to build another one. Dr. Baines and her thug had left several minutes earlier, but he didn’t want to make a move until he was sure no one remained to stand guard. Jimmy lay motionless on the floor a few feet away, but Clark could see he was breathing steadily.
On the other side of the pole, Lois struggled against her bindings. Her hands brushed his as she twisted them within the confines of the chain holding them tight. He forced himself not to dwell on the tingle that jolted straight up his arm. This wasn’t the time.
“I told Perry I needed a task force. Task force!” Lois muttered, her agitation gaining force as she continued to fume. “What do I get? Amateurs. I still cannot believe you came barreling in here like some five hundred pound gorilla. If you really thought we were in trouble, why didn’t you bring the police?”
Momentarily caught aback by her misplaced anger, he started to defend himself. “Look, I – “
“Don’t tell me,” she interrupted heatedly. “I already know. Because you’re like every other man in Metropolis. You’ve got this testosterone surplus that says ‘I can do it myself.’ Baines has got to kill us now. I don’t know why she hasn’t done it already.”
Rolling his eyes at the absurdity of her accusation, Clark bent his hands upward and snapped the lock holding the ends of the chain securing them behind his back. Allowing the chain to slink silently down to the concrete, he pulled his arms forward and rubbed his wrists. He glanced at the door to make sure the coast was still clear.
“Lois, I’ve somehow managed to – ”
“Mess everything up? No kidding!” she hissed.
Irritation prickled up his neck. He’d taken a lot of her crap since starting at the Planet, giving her wide berth for fear of stepping on her professional toes. But this was ridiculous.
“Now hold on a second. I’m not the one who snuck in here – ”
“What are you saying?” she asked with a gasp of outrage. “Are you saying that this is my fault? At least I have the guts to come in here and...”
Suddenly she stopped, and Clark turned his head expecting to see Dr. Baines or one of her hired flunkies. But no one approached. To stop at mid-outburst was very un-Lois like. That much he knew even with the brevity of their acquaintance. Was she all right?
Before he could ask, she continued, her voice holding none of its earlier indignation. Instead it was downright forlorn. “What am I saying? This probably is my fault. Oh, god. I...I...sometimes do things. You know, like jumping into the pool without checking the water level first.”
Clark held his breath, amazed she was actually admitting that sometimes she acted irrationally. Was this the same Lois Lane who called all the shots? Who never made mistakes and never let anyone get the better of her? Who always like to be on top?
“But, Clark, it’s the only way I know how to do it. How to get the job done. To get the respect that I want. That...that I deserve,” she went on, trying to make him understand. “You remember when I told you about my three rules?”
His mind raced back over the previous day and how belligerent she’d become when he’d implied how far she might go with Lex Luthor to get an interview with the man. The three rules. She never got involved with her stories. She never let anyone get there first. And the most important one. The one that had sent shards of disappointment through his chest even though he’d known her less than a week.
“Well. I’ve broken every one of them,” she confessed. “I somehow manage to always get involved with my stories.”
Clark started to chuckle then stopped with a sudden thudding of his heart, her admission sinking in. She’d broken all of the rules? Even Rule Number Three?
“You slept with someone at work?” he asked almost wistfully.
She hesitated for a moment. “Yeah.”
Whoa! She’d actually slept with a coworker. The prospect was dizzying. Intense curiosity swept over him. Who had she slept with? Was it someone who still worked at the Planet? Had he been introduced to the very man? She didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable around any of the people he’d met so far, at least not in any way which indicated a failed relationship. Unless perhaps it was someone she treated badly, like no more than her personal go-fer...
“It wasn’t...Jimmy, was it?” he asked cautiously, feeling slightly nauseous.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” she protested immediately. “It was a long time ago, when I first started at the Daily Planet.” With a deep sigh of apparent regret, she continued. “Claude. He was French. I must have been in love with him...or thought I was, anyway. One night, I told him about my story. And the next morning, when I woke up, he was gone. So was my story. He won an award for that. Didn’t even thank me for my input.”
Inwardly, Clark winced. He wondered what part of the whole fiasco bothered her most, Claude stealing her story or the fact that she’d awakened alone? He suspected the former. No wonder she had such a huge chip on her shoulder. He almost couldn’t blame her.
In just those moments, it all fell together. Her brusqueness. Her defensiveness. Her rough exterior. He knew it, then. Mad Dog Lane was a sham.
He couldn’t feel sorry for her. She wouldn’t allow it even if he could muster such an emotion. Rather, a surge of empathy filled his heart. He, too, knew how it felt to put on an act for the outside world, never letting anyone know who the real person was deep down. She’d allowed someone to come inside, and look where it had gotten her?
Still, while her bad experience seemed to have hardened her, Clark held out hope that if he let in the right person, he would find acceptance. Friendship and understanding. Maybe, even, love. He had to believe that.
“I guess when you’re in love with somebody, doesn’t matter how smart you are or how many rules you set for yourself,” he said softly, trying to show her just how much he understood. “You’re still vulnerable.”
“We’re only human,” she agreed with a loud sniff. “Oh, what difference does it make now, anyway? We’re just gonna die.”
He didn’t let her dire prediction jolt him into action. He wasn’t about to let this rare moment of intimacy pass by. He very much enjoyed this side of Lois, and he suspected this glimpse was a very rare display. Too, he felt an overwhelming need to offer her comfort. To bolster her spirits until Mad Dog reappeared.
“Lois, you know what you said? About respect?” he reminded her. “Well, I just want you to know that everybody at the Planet, everyone, thinks you’re just about the best reporter they’ve ever met.” She didn’t answer but sniffed loudly. “Perry told me that the day I interviewed.”
“He did?” she squeaked on a sob.
Clark nodded, pushing onward. This might be his only chance to express his own feeling without risk of a sarcastic rebuttal. “And not that it really means anything, coming from a hack from Nowheresville, but I think you’re pretty terrific, too.”
“Oh....Clark. I’m sorry,” she apologized, her voice cracking with unsuppressed emotion. “About everything. I know it’s too late for apologies, but I never meant – ”
When she stopped mid-sentence, Clark frowned. Had she reached the limit on her quota of personal information dispensed to rookie colleagues? Or perhaps the apology had tripped her up. He had a feeling she didn’t have much experience in saying ‘I’m sorry.’
Footsteps clipped across the concrete, and Lois’s sudden silence immediately made sense. He’d become so distracted by their conversation he’d failed to hear the person, or persons, approaching them now.
“Well, I hope you’ll forgive the accommodations,” Dr. Baines purred, and Clark quickly shoved his hands behind his back before twisting his head in her direction. “But then again, I never was much of a hostess.”
“Answer one question. Why?” Lois said, all traces of her earlier vulnerability gone. Clark had to be impressed. She’d turned her emotions on and off like a light switch. Even at the end, she was a consummate professional.
“It’s simple, Lois. Profit,” Dr. Baines said. “Outer-space is no different than any other new frontier. It’ll belong to those who get there first and seize the high ground. Sorry you won’t be around to enjoy the rest of the evening. But accidents do happen.”
Behind him, Lois stiffened. “Accidents?”
“Yes. You see, while dismantling the orbital maneuvering system, the monomethylhydrazine leaked.” As she spoke, she walked several yards away to a massive steel drum. Turning the spigot attached to its side, she allowed a steady stream of glowing yellow fluid to pour from its innards. Waiting just a moment to make sure the goo puddled and ran along the concrete floor toward a drainage grate, she moved to another drum and repeated her actions on its spigot. “And mixed with the nitrogen tidroxide.”
Clark watched as two streams of chemicals twisted on a collision course toward each other. He knew what would happen once they met and mixed. Instantly his mind began to run through the various courses of actions he might take. Super-breath to freeze the chemicals? Super-speed to remove Lois and Jimmy and Dr. Baines from the room? Either option involved exposing his abilities to these people. How would he explain them?
“Unfortunately the blast killed three nosy reporters who didn’t bother to read the sign,” Dr. Baines said as she approached them again. She gave him a wide smile that reminded him of the grin of a snake. Somehow she didn’t seem nearly as pretty as she had when he’d first met her. Funny how learning someone is a cold blooded murderer could do that.
She placed her fingers on Clark’s jaw, trailing them down to his chin. He resisted the urge to pull away, hoping briefly that her obvious attraction might sway her to alter her plans. But rather than release him, she only tilted his head upward and placed a cool kiss on his lips before striding from the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.
He shuddered before he could stop himself, wanting to scrub at his mouth with the back of his hand. Somehow he felt incredibly violated. Much like he did every time Cat Grant threw herself at him as if he were no more than the next available piece of meat. He shuddered again, then pushed the disgust from his mind. He needed to focus on the crisis at hand.
With only a quick glance toward the rivers of green and yellow heading toward each other at an alarming rate, he leapt to his feet, yanking his hands free of the chain he’d wound loosely around them.
Wordlessly he reached for the strap holding Lois’s hands bound and ripped it away.
Startled, she looked down at her hands in amazement. “Clark, how did you – ?”
“Missing link,” he offered as explanation and shoved her forward, toward the exit. Hopefully she’d be so distracted by the commotion she’d forget all about what he’d just done or, more importantly, forget to ask him more questions. “Come on.”
Stopping only long enough to hoist the unconscious Jimmy over his shoulder, he hustled Lois out the door. He could hear the hiss of steam as the two chemicals combined in a lethal potion.
Anticipating the explosion, he wrapped his arm tightly around Lois’s waist and launched himself upward. He didn’t worry about how he’d explain their sudden flight, concerned only that they get well beyond the blast zone and flying debris. He could handle the lethal shrapnel of shards of glass, concrete and sheet metal, but Jimmy and Lois would be cut to ribbons.
But instead of leaving the ground, his feet remained heavy on the asphalt, and he only stumbled forward a few feet. Confusion flitted through his mind but was quickly replaced with the noise of the explosion as the two chemicals met and mingled.
As the blast shattered all around them, its searing heat slashing across his back, the realization hit him with nearly as much force as the explosion.
He had no powers. He couldn’t fly. And they weren’t nearly far enough away...
The force of the fire ball and the noise propelled him nearly a hundred feet forward. He impacted the ground with a resounding crash that sent a piercing pain through his head. Momentarily stunned, he couldn’t move and remained on the ground.
Finally the haze of pain cleared and he sat up. The warehouse had become an inferno, and he shielded his face against the heat. It didn’t make any sense. Why could he feel the intense heat? Why couldn’t he fly? What had happened to...?
Full blown panic overtook him, and he glanced around frantically. His greatest fear was realized when he saw two inert forms lying on the ground much closer to the building than he was. He’d been thrown forward, but neither Jimmy nor Lois had been sent as far.
“Lois!” he screamed, crawling toward her motionless form. “Lois, are you all right?”
She didn’t stir. His eyes skimmed down her body. Her jacket was torn, shards of debris protruding from her back like a morbid pincushion. His heart rose into his throat and his hand shook violently as he placed it along side her neck, feeling for a pulse. When he couldn’t locate one, he pulled his hand back and shook it fiercely. He needed to calm down. He needed to focus and find her pulse, damnit.
The second and third attempt yielded the same result. No pulse. A sob tore through his chest and filled the air around him, drowning out the snap and roar of the fire blazing near by.
Gently he grasped her shoulder and rolled her over. Her eyes stared up at him lifelessly, blood trickling in a steady stream from her mouth and down her pale cheek to pool beneath her head. Flecks of glass littered her hair, picking up the reflection of orange and red flame from the burning warehouse.
“No!” He heard his own scream rip through the night. “Oh, god, no!”
No!
Strangled, Clark jerked forcefully upward, only to be yanked back down by his restraints. His breathing came in pants, an icy cold sheen of sweat soaking through his clothes. Blood pounded through his head and in his ears, and his entire body shook violently. The image of Lois’s glassy eyes seared through his brain.
Again his fingers sought the chain beneath his uniform. He pressed against the ring, happy to feel it cutting into his skin. Safe.
It was only a dream. A nightmare. Lois didn’t die that day. He’d saved her. He’d saved her. She was still alive.
He repeated it like a mantra.
Lois was still alive.
To be continued...
