WHAM WARNING - This segment, and the ones that follow have more graphic descriptions of violence than usual. It is appropriate for readers over 13.
From Last Time:
Clark’s face fell as he looked at the list of names and ages of the people who’d lost their lives in the recent battle at Terian. His heart sank as he read through the list of men, women, and children who’d died. He stopped, stunned to find a name he recognized.
Ensign Rayid, Medic, twenty-five, Killed In Action.
He swallowed roughly. “Uh, thank you, Ensign, that’ll be all,” he said dismissively to Parth. He reread the name, shaking his head in stunned silence. Absently, he rubbed at the wound on his shoulder, long since scarred over, that Ensign Rayid had treated at the battle for Terian so many months ago. He folded the papers up in his hands and continued walking down the hall to another meeting he was already late to. He opened the door to the conference room, where Enza and Zara were already discussing the charges that had been brought against Pelmon and Sergeant Garo.
“I need to go to Terian,” Clark said abruptly. He probably should have waited until he and Zara were alone to discuss the matter, but he couldn’t make himself care about decorum.
“When?” Zara asked.
“As soon as possible,” Clark replied as he ran a hand absently through his hair. “It’s important.”
Zara nodded in understanding. “We should be able to manage without you for a few days.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, it shouldn’t take too long.”
“We will keep you informed of any new developments. Shall I ask Ching to accompany you?”
“No, he’s needed here,” Clark replied. With that, he cut the meeting short. There was much he needed to do to prepare for the journey.
New Stuff:
********
She pushed open the front door and hauled in the large box that had been delivered to the Smallville post office. “It’s here!” she declared. Martha and Jonathan appeared, beaming with pride. Lois placed the box on the kitchen table and quickly tore through the packing material. Digging through the Styrofoam peanuts she found the first copy of her book. “A World Full of Heroes,” the title announced. A gold circle on the cover announced that the book was based on her Pulitzer Prize winning columns. Her editor had been giddy about being able to place that on the cover. Lois held the book in her hands, impressed by its heft and size. She turned it over and read the dust jacket.
Martha and Jonathan removed several other copies from the box. “Hey, great picture, Lois,” Jonathan said with a smile as he held up the book. On the back cover was a photo of her, smiling graciously.
“And if they don’t sell, we’ll have a lot of really great doorstops,” Lois joked.
Martha rolled her eyes. “It’s going to be a hit. Everyone loves your column.”
“And remember, we need at least two hundred copies for the Corn Festival next week,” Jonathan added. “They’ll go faster if you sign them.”
The sound of Jon’s cries caused Lois’s ears to prick up. “Baby’s up,” she announced. She made her way to the nursery and soon returned carrying her son.
“Look, kiddo, mommy wrote a book,” she said cheerfully. She picked up one of the copies of the book, which Jon was more than happy to play with. He pulled up one of the corners of the book, apparently trying to part it from the dust jacket. “Yeah, that’s mommy’s book,” Lois repeated.
“Mama,” Jon announced happily.
Lois’s eyes grew wide. “Did you hear that?” she asked, the excitement evident in her voice. “Did you hear that?”
Martha smiled and nodded. “He said ‘mama.’”
“Mama,” Jon repeated.
Jonathan laughed. “He sure did.”
Lois felt a huge smile spread across her face. She beamed at her son, speechless. “That was your first word,” she managed after a long moment, still stunned. Jon smiled as his mother hugged him tightly. As always, he was simply happy that his mother was holding him, indulging the universal bond between mother and child. He could not have understood how amazed and proud she was at that moment. He could not have understood how he’d just eclipsed a rather momentous occasion in her professional career, causing her heart to soar at the simple, amazing sound of hearing her son speak for the first time, of hearing him call her ‘mama.’
********
The transport touched down not far from the settlement of Terian. From the air he’d been able to see the devastation ravaged on the town. The earth was scorched, buildings destroyed. Clark’s destination, however, was a smaller settlement near Terian, the home of Ensign Rayid’s parents.
Flanked by guards, Clark stepped off the transport. He’d forgone the heavy, formal mantle and the trappings of authority that went along with it. It was in humble supplication that he approached the young man’s parents. He walked into the town, its streets silent and empty. In the doorway of one of the buildings stood an older couple, quietly waiting. He approached them and bowed deeply. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. The man and woman stepped aside and motioned for him to enter. He waived off his guards and stepped inside.
“Please have a seat, sir,” Rayid’s father said, his eyes brimming with tears.
Clark sat with the medic’s parents. For the duration of his journey he’d tried to think of what to say, but could think of nothing. He’d read the reports from Rayid’s commanding officer and had learned that the young man had died tending to a wounded boy. Without regard for his own safety, he’d raced to the rescue of another. Clark stared down at his own hands. “I know there is nothing I can say that will ease your loss,” he began. “But your son was an incredible man.” He looked up, his eyes meeting Rayid’s mother’s. They were the same shade of green as her son’s. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks. Her husband reached out and took her hand.
“He had so much courage. I…We talked about what he’d lost and why he kept working as he did. He knew that there was so much good he could do in the world.”
“We are proud of him,” Rayid’s father said roughly.
“And this world is grateful for what he did. For everything that he and you have sacrificed,” Clark replied quietly.
Rayid’s mother nodded, tight lipped. She wiped away tears from her cheeks. “And the boy he was trying to help?” she asked.
A ghost of a smile crossed Clark’s face. “He’ll be fine. Thanks to your son. If there is anything I can do for you…”
“It means so much to us that you came,” Rayid’s father said quietly.
Clark gave a slight nod. There really wasn’t anything he could say. With another bow, he departed.
********
“Sir!” Nor looked up at the sound of one of his lieutenants calling to him. His forces had retreated into the mountains to regroup and bind their wounds after the vicious battle of Terian. For days, they’d held on, and Nor had been convinced that his bold, decisive offensive would bear fruit. Had they succeeded, he would have finally linked the territories under his control and added a strategically valuable piece of land to his cause. But the final wave of Expeditionary Forces eventually broke the back of the offensive. Nor had to admit now that he’d underestimated the strength of a division that certainly punched above its weight. Moreso, he’d underestimated the acumen of its commander; he certainly hadn’t expected the ferocious counteroffensive she’d launched. It probably would have been a suicide mission under the command of any other officer. In the chaos of his retreat, he’d barely had an opportunity to observe the methodical, almost mechanical precision of her attack. After the initial furor over his defeat had subsided a bit, he found himself bemused; he realized he had made a particularly intriguing new enemy.
“What is it?” Nor snapped.
“Good news, sir,” the other man announced nervously. “Kal El is in Terian.”
Nor stroked his goatee, a feral grin spread across his face. “Well this is interesting.”
********
Clark stifled a grimace as he toured the ruins of Terian. Hours earlier, he’d been briefed by Talan as she prepared to return to the main colony. All around him the after effects of the carnage were blunt and obvious. He was used to seeing destruction and chaos at the sites of natural disasters, but it was never an easy thing to deal with. It was harder still when it was completely avoidable. Flanked by six guards he wandered through the deserted streets until he was standing on the outskirts of the settlement. Clark started for the foothills beyond the town, his silent guards in tow. He looked out at the heather sky and the setting sun, red as blood. A cold wind swept across the landscape, sending a chill through him. It was unsettlingly quiet.
The still was shattered abruptly. The sounds of laser rifle fire caused him to flinch and duck. He looked around frantically to find the source of the attack. The guards reached for their weapons and encircled him, their backs to him, all of them facing outward at the threat. In a horrifying moment, he saw one, and then two others of his guards fall to the ground. He spun around and was struck immediately in the chest by a blast of fire. Clark was knocked backward, the burning pain nailing him to the ground. He tried to lift his head. Before everything went dark, he vaguely saw the shapes of his attackers, swarming upon him like a plague of locusts.
********
“You set the gun to stun, didn’t you?” Nor asked nonchalantly as he looked down at the bodies lying at his feet.
“Of course, sir,” one of the soldiers replied.
“Good,” Nor said. “He’s more useful alive than dead. For now.”
Ignoring the guards lying prone on the ground, one of Nor’s men picked up Kal El, struggling to lift him. Something around the First Minister’s neck had gotten caught on the jagged surface of the ground. The soldier tugged, breaking the impediment, and managed to throw Kal El’s unconscious body over his shoulder.
As an afterthought, Nor nodded to the bodies of the guards. “Take them as well.”
********
Jonathan threw another log on the fire before returning to the couch to sit beside his wife. He picked up his copy of Lois’s book and opened it to the first page. Martha snuggled up next to him, her head on his chest.
“To my partner, my best friend, the father of my son, and the love of my life. To my husband, my hero,” she read aloud.
“I don’t know how she does it,” Jonathan mused.
“She’s one of the strongest people I know,” Martha agreed. “I’m so glad Clark found her.”
“You knew from the first time he talked about her that he’d fallen for her,” Jonathan said with a soft chuckle.
She smiled wistfully. “And I knew she’d come around and fall for our boy.”
“Well, he is a pretty great guy.” Jonathan looked down and saw the tears forming in Martha’s eyes. “He’ll come home,” he said gruffly.
“I know,” Martha whispered.
********
Reality came spinning violently back in for him. He groaned, dizzy and nauseated and throbbing in pain. His lungs burned with each breath he took and the wound on his chest ached mercilessly. He swallowed roughly, the sharp, coppery taste of blood in his mouth. Clark realized dimly that his arms had been bound over his head; they tingled from the lack of blood. He shivered involuntarily against the cold. He’d been stripped naked.
Clark flexed his fingers as he grabbed the chains that held him upright. He pushed off the floor and pulled himself up. He winced and groaned as pain seared through his arms. He felt like every fiber and sinew in his muscles was being shredded. Beads of sweat formed on his brow from the exertion. Blood flowed back into the starved vessels and caused the pins and needles feeling to grow stronger. Slowly, he lowered himself back down to the ground, his chest heaving. He needed to conserve his strength in order to escape, but he couldn’t do it with numb hands and arms. He grabbed the chains again and tugged on them. They were bolted securely to the ceiling and without superpowers, he wasn’t going to break them. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was. The room was dark and dank and there was absolutely nothing particular or memorable about it. There were no windows so he may well have been underground.
Straining, he heard voices, but could not make out what was being said. A door opened and light spilled into the room. A dark figure stood in the doorway and started toward him. Squinting, Clark recognized his captor as none other than Nor.
“So you’re awake,” Nor sneered. He stroked his goatee as he paced in front of Clark. “I was beginning to wonder if we’d gone too hard on you.” Nor leaned back and swung, landing a vicious punch on Clark’s jaw. Clark tried to shake off the blow, his mouth filling with blood. Nor hit him again. Clark spat out the blood, not bothering to lift his head. “You pathetic mongrel,” Nor growled. Nor stuck his hand against the wound on Clark’s chest. Clark tried unsuccessfully not to scream at the agonizing, mind numbing pain that resulted.
“I can see we are going to have a great deal of fun together,” Nor said with a vicious laugh.
********
“How could this have happened?!” Ching barked in an unheard of display of emotion. The rage radiated off of him.
“I…I do not know, sir…” the hapless soldier stammered.
“Get Commander Talan,” Ching snapped.
“Of course, sir.” With that, the soldier scurried off, leaving Ching alone in the command room.
The door opened and Zara rushed in. “What has happened? What is going on?” she demanded.
“We do not know yet,” Ching replied.
“We must find him.” Her voice broke on the words as she paced agitatedly.
Ching stepped in front of her and placed his hands on her arms. “We will,” he said quietly. He stepped back, knowing they would not be alone for long. “Talan is on her way,” he explained. “She and her forces will join the search parties post haste. And if you’ll allow it, I wish to join them.”
Zara nodded mutely. He was gratified that she understood his need to do something and he knew that she shared it. If their positions had been reversed, she would have been doing the same, but of course, duty bound her to stay, to fulfill her obligations and to lead her people.
The door opened again and Talan entered, outfitted completely in survival equipment. “Ma’am, Commander Ching, I am happy to be of service, but my transport is scheduled to leave momentarily.”
“Of course, Commander,” Zara replied. “Please keep me informed of everything, day or night. And Lieutenant Commander Ching will be joining your forces.”
“Very well, Ma’am,” Talan answered with a slight bow. She turned to Ching. “Let us away.”
********
Talan pulled a civilian greatcoat on over her uniform, effectively concealing the numerous weapons and considerable explosives she was carrying. She was a veritable walking munitions depot, prepared for any contingency. She slung a non-descript bag over her shoulders and stood beside the transport door. Ching checked the blade sheathed at his belt and stood beside her. The doors opened and they stepped off onto the red, dusty soil of New Krypton’s surface. A cold wind swept across the rugged terrain, kicking up the rust colored dirt. Outside the transport, they waited for the rest of the forces to disembark.
“Break up into teams and begin at the borders of the settlement. Work your way outward and stay in constant communications,” Talan ordered. She set off alone, heading toward the foothills. She squinted in the dim light of a New Kryptonian dusk as she surveyed the ground, looking for signs of a struggle, signs of life. For hours, unaware of the cold or the wind or the rapidly fading light, she continued searching. Not far beyond the settlement’s borders, in an unremarkable spot, she noticed tracks on the ground. She stilled and bent to examine the patterns in the dust.
There had been a struggle here. There were footprints, but no discernible pattern, as though the people who’d made them had moved frantically. There were at least four different sets of prints of people wearing the boots of New Kryptonian forces. Men, definitely, from the size. Kal El and his guards. There were also many other prints made by different boots. The attackers. She looked from side to side. There were odd tracks, wide and shapeless, as though someone had dragged bodies. Scorch marks and blood spotted the landscape. Some of the boot prints made by the attackers were deeper as they led away from the settlement, as though the owners of those boots were carrying something heavy. A glimmer caught her eye. She reached for her communicator and radioed her position to Ching. Within minutes, he joined her at the site.
“He was taken here,” Talan explained. “And he was unconscious when it happened.”
Ching’s eyes narrowed. “How can you be sure?”
She pulled the now broken chain and the ring from a pocket and held it up. The small gold band caught the dying light. “It was over there,” she said nodding toward the place where she’d found it. “There is no way he would have left this behind.”
********
“My goodness, my boy, well done,” Rae Et said with a broad smile. She clapped softly as she stood up from her chair. Her son gave her a self-satisfied smile. “Where is he now?”
“We moved him,” Nor replied. “It was imprudent to keep him so close to where we captured him. I intend to have him moved often, make it difficult for Zara to launch an effective search.”
“She’ll have her finest commanders on this task,” Rae Et remarked.
“Of course she will,” Nor replied. “I know what I am facing, mother.”
“And you will continue to make me proud.”
********
Clark awoke again in a different room, not unlike the last. He was chained to the wall this time, slumped down in a darkened corner. Trying to stand, he was rewarded by the sharp, stabbing pain from wounds old and new. He fell back into a crouching position, leaning against the cold wall. The beating had been particularly vicious. His eyes were still swollen mostly shut and each breath was a labored, painful effort. At some point when he’d been unconscious, he had been moved. He had no idea where to. He could have been out of it for hours and in that time, been taken anywhere.
His throat was parched and his stomach gnawed mercilessly at him. The dizziness and nausea convinced him that he’d probably received a concussion. His teeth wouldn’t stop chattering and his hands and feet were beginning to feel numb from exposure. He drew his legs toward him, trying to curl up in order to conserve warmth. In his pitiful state, he couldn’t lower his arms enough to wrap them around himself. They dangled awkwardly over his head, his wrists chafed by the shackles and his muscles once again stiff and tingling from the lack of circulation.
He knew he had to keep his senses. He needed to find a way to escape. If they continued to move him this often, there was no way Zara would find him. His only hope would be to get away from Nor. Never mind the fact that they might have been in completely hostile territory or in one of the vast, arid, freezing deserts that stretched across New Krypton’s surface, miles and miles from anything. They seemed to move him only when he was unconscious. That would have required unchaining him, even if only for a short while. If he feigned being knocked out, perhaps an opportunity would open up to him. Of course, the last few times, he hadn’t had a chance to pretend. Nor and his men were particularly thorough in their abuse.
Letting out a shuddering breath, he tried to stop his shivering. He wouldn’t become a weak, pathetic husk of a man. He wouldn’t be broken. He wasn’t going to die here. He wasn’t going to go out with a pitiful whimper. There was no way in hell Clark Kent was going to let that happen to himself. He was going to get out of here. He was going to get back home.
He’d made a promise.
********
Talan and Ching stood together in a bare room in a largely bombed out building in the Terian settlement. “The trail is going cold,” Talan declared simply. It had been a day and a half since Kal El had gone missing. They’d found Kal El’s guard detail. All six of the guards had been shot and two had died of their wounds. “They have had plenty of time to move him out of the area. We need to change our strategy, base the search on intelligence, not simple manpower.”
“Aye, Ma’am,” Ching agreed. “We’ll keep some forces on the ground search and increase intelligence gathering within Nor’s strongholds. He will want to go where he is comfortable, where he believes he can control the situation.”
“Indeed, and I am leaving you in charge of coordinating the operation,” Talan replied. She retrieved a pack and began filling it with munitions and supplies. In quick, efficient movements, she disassembled a laser rifle and placed its components in the sack.
“Ma’am?” Ching raised a puzzled eyebrow.
“I need you to take command,” she continued. “I will continue searching on the ground, I need you to coordinate the rest of the efforts, keep me apprised.” She unsheathed the knife at her belt and held it up to examine it. She ran a thumb against the blade’s edge. Satisfied that it was still sharp, she returned it to its scabbard. “I plan to leave immediately.”
“Of course, Ma’am, I will keep you fully informed. Will you travel with a team?”
She shook her head. “No, I will move more swiftly alone.” Pulling on her overcoat, she picked up the bag and exited the room.
********
Enza paced nervously in the holding room as she waited for her appointment. The door opened and a pair of guards dragged Pelmon unceremoniously into the room. “Well, Captain, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he sneered.
“You have one opportunity to save your own skin,” she replied stonily.
Pelmon arched a brow. “Are you threatening me?”
“I hardly have to. Rae Et is unlikely to leave a loose end like you lying around forever. Eventually, you will be too much of a liability.”
“And you want information in exchange for protecting me?” Pelmon smiled. “What an interesting turn.” Pelmon sat down at the table.
Enza placed her hands on the table and leaned across it toward him. “Spare me. You built your career on the simple fact that the righteous will endure perfidy if what is at stake is dear enough.”
“Well then, speak, I am more than willing to listen to your proposal,” Pelmon replied diffidently. His tone suggesting that he was patiently entertaining subordinate, instead of listening to a deal that could well save his life.
“I need everything you know about Rae Et, about where Nor would have taken Kal El, and about how they are getting their information. If you cooperate, I will guarantee your safety.”
“And my sentence?”
“Is not even a subject for debate. You will die in prison, Pelmon. It is up to you whether it is of old age or entirely preventable events.”
“I will need to deliberate on your proposal.”
She glared at him. “I am not a patient woman.” She stepped toward him, grabbing the front of his tunic. With unblinking eyes, she glared at him, her face inches from his. “You have an hour to decide.”
********
“Lois, this book of yours is tearing its way up the bestseller chart,” Perry exclaimed. “You’ll be number four on tomorrow’s list.”
“That’s great, chief,” she replied, holding the cordless handset to her ear.
“I’m sure you’ll be number one by next week.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she said cautiously.
“Where’s that brash, confident reporter of mine?” he asked with a chuckle.
“She’s been learning to take things one step at a time, chief.”
“Fair enough, darlin,” he drawled. “So, you looking forward to that book tour?”
“Not hardly. I really don’t have time to drop everything and run around signing autographs. Besides, I hate airplanes.”
Perry laughed. “I’ll bet you do. I’ll tell your editor you hate having company when you travel and you’ll be able to get there under your own steam. It’s just a couple of hours on a couple of days. Besides, it’s in your contract. It’s not like you’ve got much of a choice”
“I know.” She muttered, her tone anything but enthusiastic.
********
Zara looked up from her work with vacant eyes. Before her stood two young officers, looking meek and stricken – Ensigns Parth and Rul.
“Ma’am,” Rul began after gently clearing her throat. “We would like to join the rescue efforts.”
“I understand your sentiment,” Zara replied stoically. And she did; she knew exactly the frustration and impotence that plagued them.
“We were sworn to protect the First Minister and we cannot do that here,” Parth said softly.
Zara nodded, tight-lipped. She realized that it wasn’t simple duty that drove them. They had grown to respect and admire Kal El just like everyone else who knew him. “I will contact Commander Ching.”
********
Clark squinted; even the dim light now pouring into his own private hell was enough to hurt his eyes. Nor approached him slowly, the now familiar predatory grin spread across his face. Clark’s arms had been chained over his head again, forcing him to stand on legs that were too weary. Nor picked up a baton and spun it around his wrist. Casually, he hit Clark in the chest with it. Clark coughed and winced in pain, fairly certain that his ribs had been cracked several beatings ago. He swallowed, his throat painfully dry, before stringing together a list of words in English that had not been part of his vocabulary. Being able to curse Nor in a language the other man could never understand was his one small victory.
“I’ll teach you not to bark in that mongrel tongue of yours,” Nor replied, raising the baton again. Clark braced himself for a blow that didn’t come. He looked out of the corner of his eye at Nor, who’d laid down the baton and had picked up a long, braided whip.
He shuddered and his muscles tensed with the first of the lashes. His back burned and stung and the pain only grew each and every time Nor raised the whip. He closed his eyes, trying his damnedest to ignore the throbbing pain. Somewhere, through the fog that was his mind, he could hear screaming in the distance. Clark hadn’t realized others were being held in the same place. The sound was unbearable. He wondered what they were doing to that poor bastard.
It took him a moment to realize that he was the one screaming.
********
Talan descended nimbly down the side of the mountain. It was cold and dark, but she knew this terrain. On many occasions, her boot prints had been the first to mar the virgin landscape of this lonely planet’s surface. No one knew this world better than she. She was a half day’s hike from the stream the colonists had carved into the planet’s surface. A supply drop had been made there for her and it would be a good place to stop and rest for a bit. Talan hadn’t stopped in days, moving day and night, following the slim, threadlike leads that were relayed to her by Ching. When the trail ran cold, extraction teams would airlift her and other searchers to the new target areas of the search. The airlifts gave her a few hours of rest and allowed her to replenish supplies, but they were always frustrating. The airlifts signaled that they weren’t close, or at least, not close enough.
While others worked in small teams, she continued alone. Her body moved without conscious thought, her pace swift, belying the fact that she hadn’t eaten or slept in days. There were many, many men in her unit who were bigger, stronger, and faster than she, simple biology guaranteed it. But endurance was hers in spades. Many years of hard living had proved that the longer the journey, the more brutal the extremes of heat or cold, the greater the hunger or thirst, the better she performed. She closed the gap between her and the men and eventually surpassed them. On the longest, most brutal journeys, others merely slowed her down, and this was not a mission on which she could afford to be slowed.
For hours, she continued toward the stream, unnoticing the cold or the wind, the gnawing of her stomach, or her parched throat. In the silence she had nothing to think about but the single-minded determination that drove her forward. She was possessed of a focus that was beyond even what she was accustomed to. Never before had she felt so driven to accomplish her goal. Never before had her mission resonated so deeply inside her. Her entire career, she’d fought without passion or emotion. She divorced everything human from her work because she had to. There could be nothing personal about what she did.
This time, it was different. She had to find him alive, it wasn’t simply a mission. It consumed every thought she had; there was nothing else. In a way that was completely foreign to her, her stomach lurched at the bare notion of failing. She would not fail.
********
Time was a funny thing, he thought to himself. When you had no way to keep track of it, it was like it didn’t exist. Days and nights were the same when there was no light. Hours could have been minutes or weeks, it didn’t really matter. He couldn’t have known how long it had been since they’d given him something to eat, but it had to be days. Even hunger wasn’t linear; it provided no useful metric to mark the passing of time. The pangs of hunger often tore at him, driving him completely mad. He could think of nothing but food and how much his stomach hurt. And then there were times when he was so overcome by nausea or fever, he guessed it had to be from wounds that had gotten infected, that he couldn’t even think of food. The beatings, of course, caused him to forget about everything.
In a way, it made him angry that they never even tried to get information out of him. They weren’t trying to extract intelligence. They were just mindlessly torturing him. In a bizarre sense, it was insulting. He was the First Minister, commander of all the forces of New Krypton, and they couldn’t think of a single thing they wanted to beat out of him. He assumed that he thought about these remarkably stupid, insignificant things because they wounded his pride and it was in danger of being destroyed entirely. His pride, his sense of self, they were the only things he had left.
It was hard to stay who he was, to remember that he was Clark Kent. Reporter, husband, son, superhero, fan of the Metropolis Monarchs, a terrible poker player, a former football star, and a pretty decent cook. He had to fight to tell himself that all of that stuff still mattered, especially when it seemed so clear that it didn’t.
He bit down hard on his lip as the rain of blows from the whip opened barely healed wounds on his back. His skin was raw, his muscles throbbed with pain. Struggling not to cry out, he lifted his head and opened his eyes, shocked to see her standing in front of him, draped in white silk robes, ethereal as a ghost, but such a welcome sight. The expression on her face was tender and unperturbed. She smiled at him. God, she was so beautiful. Her name escaped his throat like a strangled cry. She stepped toward him, laying a gentle hand on his cheek, against a newly received cut. He expected it to hurt, but instead her touch was cool and gentle, soothing him like a balm. She interposed herself between him and his tormentors, wrapping her arms around him, keeping him safe. He could still hear the snap of the whip, but he felt nothing but her reassuring and strong embrace. He closed his eyes and whispered her name again.
********
