From Part Two...
“It’s too late, isn’t it?” His voice was a cracked whisper. “I know it’s too late.”
He moved towards the door slowly.
She died a little with every step he took.
She wanted him to leave, but she desperately wanted him to stay.
She closed her eyes, couldn’t watch him walk out. She knew, if he left, he may never come back.
She heard the knob turn. Heard the door open.
She hated him, but she loved him.
“Clark, wait!”
She opened her eyes and froze.
In the doorway, blocking Clark’s exit was her very stunned ex-fiance.
--
Part Three
--
Clark could see it, the slowly dawning realisation on Luthor’s face.
“Clark…”
Clark could see the wheels turning in the man’s devious mind. Could see the confusion in his eyes harden into cold fury. Could pinpoint the moment when it clicked into place.
“Kent.”
No.
Clark could feel the panic rising.
No. No. No.
“Brilliant, really.” His tone was scathing. “I never would have considered you’d stoop to living such a deplorable existence. The great Superman.” Luthor advanced, pushing into the room. “A pathetic mortal.”
His movements were rough. Ungraceful. His hard eyes glassy. Red.
The smell of alcohol burned Clark’s nostrils.
Wine.
Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.
Wine. Luthor. Green. Cage. Pain.
He could see the mad glint in the older man’s eyes. The tension in his muscles. Like a snake ready to strike.
A wave of nausea rolled over Clark, and he stumbled backwards. Away from him. From his snake eyes. His superior sneer.
No.
His skin itched. His eyes burned with memory. Green.
He couldn’t breathe. He was back in the cage again. Only… it was worse.
Luthor knew.
He knew, and Clark’s parents, his friends, Lois… they were all in there with him. Waiting to die.
Clark clenched his jaw. Against the pain. Against his fear. His lingering terror.
It was over. The costume. The character. The facade.
Luthor knew.
And he was dead. They all were.
“You’re pathetic,” Luthor spat out.
He moved closer. Arrogant. Confident. Furious.
Closer.
Clark lurched forward, his stomach twisting painfully.
Pain. Green. Luthor.
Pain.
Remembered. Real. New.
Green.
There. Suddenly. Dangling in front of him on a gold chain.
He collapsed, falling onto his hands and knees.
Pain.
Death.
Luthor.
Leaning in. His breath staining Clark’s face. Choking him.
“Lex?” Lois’s horrified voice sliced through the moment.
Lois.
Who was still standing somewhere behind him. Who was witness to the moment. The snake and the mouse.
Lois.
Who wouldn’t understand.
Because he hadn’t told her. She wouldn’t believe him. She’d never believe him.
Lois.
Whom he had to protect. From Luthor. From herself.
Clark saw Luthor flinch at the sound of her voice. Saw the flicker in the man’s eyes. As if he’d forgotten.
Forgotten she was there. Forgotten he was in her home.
Clark saw the change. The last fibres of his barely tethered control snapping. As if he’d just remembered.
Remembered how she’d turned him down. Remembered how she’d demeaned him.
He stood up. Stepped towards her. His muscles coiled.
Ready to snap.
As if he’d just remembered he’d sought her out. Come to her home.
Armed with kryptonite.
“How did you know I was here?” Clark’s voice was raw. Desperate. He turned painfully, hoping he was right.
Hoping that Luthor was here for him and not Lois.
That Luthor would focus on him and not Lois.
That he’d focus on him, and she’d escape.
That’d she’d survive.
Luthor was looking at him, his fists clenched.
The tightness in Clark’s chest loosened. He was looking at him, and not Lois.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” Luthor hissed.
He moved closer.
“I own the news.” He circled around. “The reporters. The underground. Nothing happens without my knowledge.”
Pain exploded in Clark’s side as Luthor’s shoe connected. Sharp. Crushing.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find you? Here, of all places?”
Cracking. Ribs. Fire.
Spots swam before his eyes as he landed heavily on the floor.
“Did you think I wouldn’t come for what was mine?”
Luthor. Close. Looming.
“Nobody steals from me and gets away with it.”
His face was hidden by shadow as the darkness clouded Clark’s vision.
“First my kill, then my victory, and now I find that you’ve stolen her, my prize.”
“What the hell is going on?” Lois asked.
Lois. Light.
Clark clenched his jaw. Closed his eyes. Forced himself to breathe.
Lois.
Light.
He couldn’t give up. Couldn’t let Luthor win.
Couldn’t let Lois down. Again.
Her hands were on his shoulders.
He struggled to sit up, but the light touch of her hands held him still.
“Have you lost your mind, Lex?” She sounded confused. Crushed. As if she’d realised everything she’d known to be true wasn’t.
As if she’d realised he wasn’t the only liar in her life.
As if she’d realised…
And her hands were on his shoulders.
“No.” Luthor hissed. “For the first time since I’ve met you, my dear, I’m thinking clearly.”
He felt her gasp.
He needed to concentrate. Needed to get up. Needed to be strong. To protect her. To protect himself. His family. His life.
But he couldn’t.
The darkness was weighing him down.
The pain.
The green. The deadly glow searing his skin. The fire in his side. Every breath, fire.
He wasn’t ready. Not yet. Not anymore. But her hands were weighing him down.
“What are you talking about?” Her voice was quiet. Distant. Fading.
Clark’s eyelids were heavy. He shook his head. He had to be strong. He had to get up.
The flash of steel caught his eye. The glint of metal fangs.
The gun.
“You must think I’m a fool!” Luthor’s laugh was derisive. Hollow.
The gun was aimed above Clark. Over his shoulder.
At Lois.
He sucked in a breath. Determined. Painful. White fire spread up his side and he struggled to sit up. To draw attention to himself.
She squeezed his shoulder.
The gun lowered.
He breathed out.
“Know thy enemy. Knowledge is power, and my power is limitless.” Luthor’s glassy eyes narrowed. “It was only a matter of time before I found out… you’ve been laughing at me all along. You and your pathetic Superman.”
The cocking of the gun echoed through Clark’s head.
“Nobody makes a fool out of me.”
“You’ll never get away with this!” Clark’s voice was strained.
Desperate.
He needed Luthor to focus on him. *Him*.
The gun arm wavered, but didn’t lower. Didn’t falter from its target.
From Lois.
“Don’t be foolish.” Luthor hissed. “I *own* this town. There isn’t an officer that will arrest me. A DA that will prosecute me. There isn’t a judge that will imprison me.”
“Not everybody can be bought.” Clark sucked in another agonising breath. Breathe. Focus. Him. He needed Luthor to focus on him.
“Of course they can.”
Luthor’s face was turning red.
The gun dropped. An inch.
One inch.
Clark clenched his jaw.
Green. Pain.
Breathe.
Gun. Lois.
Darkness.
He blinked.
He struggled to sit up again. Blinding pain. Ribs. Her hands supported him.
“What are you doing to him?”
“I’m not doing anything, merely providing the comforts of home.”
“Y-you’re killing him!” He heard the catch in her breath. Wished he could take it away. Wished he could make it better. Wished it wasn’t true.
He was going to die. And he wasn’t ready.
He moaned as Luthor moved closer. The rock moved closer.
Green.
The last thing he’d see.
“You can’t kill him…” Lois’s voice was distant. “Please… I love him.”
His heart clenched painfully.
She loved him.
And the world slowed down. Stopped. He was trapped in a heartbeat.
The silenced gunshot.
Deadly.
His breath caught. Lois.
The voice returned. No.
Lois.
No.
He could hear the sound of the bullet ripping through skin.
Could feel it tearing through muscle.
And then it was in him.
He screamed.
TBC…
--
*ahem*
Please don't kill me...
