Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic The Longest Road: The Roads They Walked Alone - Part 32

WHAM warning: More violence in this section.

From Last Time:

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.


********

New Stuff:


Talan observed the movement of hostile troops at the bottom of the hill; a small band seemed to be on a routine patrol. She lowered the visual enhancement lenses and scanned her surroundings, taking note of the topography – the plains and plateaus, the defensible positions and the places of weakness. Dozens of scouts and spies were now reporting from within enemy territory, providing essential bits of intelligence for the rescue efforts.

Her current target was on the other side of the valley below her. Between her and that target stood a half a dozen of Nor’s men. They began to move away from each other, breaking up in pairs as they continued on their patrol. This was her opportunity.

Quickly and quietly, she descended into the valley, careful not to draw the attention of the soldiers. There were few hiding places in the valley, but she’d charted her path ahead of time, finding ways to stick to the shadows. It would be difficult to cross into relative safety without drawing the attention of the patrol. If she had to confront them, though, she hoped to be able to limit her exposure and only have to deal with a part of the group. If she managed to take them by surprise, she’d be able to neutralize the threat before they could signal the others. By the time anyone realized that something was wrong, she would have slipped away.

She crept behind a pair of guards, keeping a safe distance, hoping to avoid them entirely. But combat rarely went according to plan. She heard the sound of a communicator, which caused the soldiers to pause. They turned around and started back toward her. If she didn’t act, they would be upon her in a few moments. She moved softly, taking cover behind an outcropping of rocks and waited for the soldiers to pass her. She doubled back and continued across the valley, just hoping to put enough distance between her and the patrol to move any confrontation to the more favorable terrain of the hills on the other side. An instant before she disappeared into the darkened hills, she felt the singe of laser rifle fire scorch the air.

She sought cover, but continued to move; staying ahead of the soldiers now pursuing her was her best advantage. From the shouts coming from behind her, she could tell that they’d been thrown off the track, at least momentarily. Quickly leveraging the situation to transform from prey to predator, she lay in wait for them. She raised her weapon and took aim at the space they would soon have to cross into, giving herself a clear shot at her targets. She took a deep breath, her pulse steady and measured, her body relaxed. Her hands didn’t tremble and her heart beat just as calmly as it would in sleep.

After a long moment, her two targets came into view. With cold efficiency, she fired, neutralizing her targets. The commotion had drawn the attention of the remaining guards. She had no time to delay. Leaving her position of safety, she continued the long ascent into the dark hills, the night’s sky being lit up by punctuated rifle fire exploding around her. She suddenly felt the material of her uniform snag on something and was jerked backward. The clothing ripped, but she freed herself easily. Instinctively, she reached to the pocket on her pants to make sure the chain and its ring were still there, only to find that it had been the pocket that had ripped. She turned around frantically, trying to search in the dark for the glinting strand of metal she’d lost. Talan fumbled as she looked, suddenly feeling her heart rate rise and tension form like a knot in her gut.

The remaining soldiers grew closer and the rifle fire continued to thunder all around her. She retraced her steps, keeping crouched low to make it easier to see the ground. A few paces ahead of the spot where she’d torn the uniform, she found it. Snatching it up, she turned and continued her mad dash. The soldiers were closing the gap. The explosive sounds of rifle fire surrounded her. A flash of burning tore through one arm and she nearly dropped her weapon. Still running, she looked down at the now ripped and singed uniform and the opened wound on her upper arm. She felt the blood start to soak her uniform, but she did not slow. She turned once to fire, wounding her pursuer, before racing forward again to gain distance between her and the remaining troops. Talan willed her body to ignore the pain and it was suddenly gone; completely forgotten.

After the unplanned detour, she finally found herself in the dark caves of the hills, the very place she’d been trying to reach. In these darkened mazes, she was as good as a ghost; they wouldn’t be able to find her. She drew in long, deep breaths as her heart rate slowed back to normal. She wore a civilian coat and no designations of rank, which would likely help keep her identity concealed, but Rae Et and Nor had to know that half of the armed forces of New Krypton were searching for Kal El. With efficient movements and a cautious ear constantly tuned to her surroundings so that she wouldn’t be surprised, she managed to disinfect and bind the wound on her arm, though not without difficulty.

She picked up the chain she’d gently laid down on her coat and held it up. On one of the airlift flights, she’d taken the time to fix the broken chain. It had been three weeks since she’d found it, three weeks during which they’d clung to gossamer thin strands of hope and a few clues – whispers of information from uneasy settlers who’d seen Nor’s men moving furtively in the night, reports of long abandoned buildings being occupied again, but only for a single night. They worked off a faith as thin and fragile as the chain she held in her fingers. A chain she’d almost lost for a second time.

Ten days earlier, in the middle of the night, she’d been caught by surprise by an unscheduled patrol of rebel forces. She’d been forced to hide, abandoning her equipment – though only temporarily – as she turned the element of surprise on the unsuspecting troops. Engaging superior firepower, she was forced to divide and conquer the enemy, sowing confusion among them as she navigated treacherous terrain in total darkness. She knew the area better than they, the saving grace that no doubt kept her alive. Despite the arrival of more hostile troops, she’d gone back for the pack and the chain and ring tucked safely in it, at no small amount of risk to herself and her mission. Since then, she’d been carrying the ring in a pocket, always within reach, but even that wasn’t safe enough.

Looking down at the small metal circle and the chain it hung on, she realized what a peculiar thing it was. Talan knew how much it meant to Kal El, how the small band belonged to his beloved. She wondered, not for the first time, about the woman who possessed Kal El’s heart. She wondered who that woman was, knowing that she must have been the most incredible person to be loved as she was by Kal El. It was obvious that he loved his wife with all of his heart and with every breath. It was puzzling at first, but she realized that she had found that fact very comforting. She had been happy to know that Kal El was so deeply loved and that there was great joy in his life before he came to New Krypton. Now, it was her duty to see that he returned to the one he loved so dearly and who must have loved him with equal depth and strength.

Frowning slightly as she rolled the ring between her fingers, she thought about how much it must have pained the First Minister to not have the ring in his possession. She’d often seen him reach for it in moments when he seemed troubled. He needed this small connection to the one he loved now more than ever, she thought. It wasn’t that she fully understood what he must have felt for his wife, or what his wife felt for him, she assumed that sort of love had to be experienced to be understood, but it required little in terms of the power of perception to realize that he held that love sacred. She’d decided that if it was sacred to him, then it was sacred to her as well. The ring would have to be kept safe. Twice now, she’d had to risk her life to retrieve it, and fate would only be kind to her for so long. She realized the best way to keep the chain safe was to wear it, but it felt wrong. Why she should hesitate to do the only practical thing was beyond her. Sentimentality was alien to her, but then again, the object in question was purely one of sentiment. She had no right to wear this thing that was so precious to him, but the need to keep it safe outweighed any trespass against the bond between Kal El and his wife. She placed the chain around her neck and tucked it under her uniform with a silent promise to return it safely to its owner.

For now, there was no time to rest or reflect further upon these promises. She still had leads to follow, though word would doubtless be spreading among Nor’s forces that the enemy was among them. If Kal El was in the area, they would have already begun the process of moving him again.

She descended from the caves and made her way quietly to the abandoned barracks where it was rumored that rebel forces were keeping a prisoner. The squat, dull looking building was deserted, but it was obvious that it had been occupied recently. She forced open a heavy door and slipped inside. Litter and debris in the main barracks suggested that forces had been staying here, though they certainly weren’t the Expeditionary Forces that had used this building years ago as settlers tried to terra-form this part of the planet. She pulled up the cumbersome hatch to the barracks’ basement and climbed down the stairwell in total darkness.

She clicked on a flashlight to guide her way through the tomb-like chamber. Scanning the room, her eyes quickly settled on the set of chains bolted into one wall. A prisoner had most definitely been kept here. Walking slowly toward the wall, she looked down for clues that would suggest how long ago it had been. She bent down to examine the dark stains on the ground. The blood had dried, as had the bloodstains on the wall. It had been at least a few days since he’d been moved.

********

Lois unfolded her copy of the Daily Planet and pulled out the literary supplement section. Tossing the rest of the paper on the coffee table, she tucked her legs underneath her on the couch and opened the supplement. Two weekends spent in bookstores signing copies and shaking hands had boosted sales, she was told. The Daily Planet Non-Fiction Bestsellers’ list proved it: Number One. The book was quickly going through its second printing and the third was set to be produced. The bookstore in Smallville had the same poster of the book’s cover in its display window as just about every other bookstore she’d seen did.

She was proud of the book and the columns that it was based on – they weren’t her usual fare, but she’d grown to love the work. It wasn’t something she really would have tackled before meeting Clark; she would have dismissed these stories as mere ‘mood pieces,’ and gone on in search of real, hard news.

Now, Lois Lane was searching for the human angle to her stories, having learned from her partner’s softer touch, to encourage her readers to connect with the subject. She couldn’t have written these types of stories, not well anyways, had it not been for Clark’s influence. The irony that she wouldn’t have been writing them at all had Clark not left was not lost on her. Her stories on heroism and sacrifice were all tied to him. It didn’t cease to amaze her how thoroughly he’d changed her life. He’d challenged her assumptions, made her believe in heroism, shown her that selflessness did exist in the world, supported her in every endeavor – great or small, and taught her how to love completely and without fear. He had made her a better person.

She got up and crossed the den to where Jon was crawling enthusiastically toward Binky the bear. Once he’d acquired the object of his quest, she picked both him and the bear up. She sat down on the couch with him on her lap. Jon held tightly to the bear, deciding to find out if the stuffed animal’s ear was something worth putting in his mouth. Lois smiled as she looked down at him. She smoothed the soft down of his hair. It was growing lighter; still brown, but much fairer than either her hair or Clark’s. Clark’s birth mother had strawberry blonde hair, and she wondered if these were her genes at work. While she rarely thought of his going to New Krypton as having any positive elements, she hoped that he was learning more about his past, getting answers to questions he’d had all his life and questions that their son would have, too.

********

Clark looked up, wide eyed with horror, as a group of guards approached him, brandishing laser rifles. Nor strolled lazily behind them, smiling almost serenely. One of the guards undid his shackles and forced him to his knees. The other three lined up behind him. He felt the barrels of their laser rifles pressed against the base of his skull. His breaths grew quick and shallow and he couldn’t slow them. He screwed his eyes shut tight and bit his quivering lip. Kneeling was causing him terrible pain, but he didn’t dare move.

“Any last words, Kal El? Any noble statement to make before your death?” Nor taunted.

Clark remained silent, praying for the strength to die well, feeling like his insides had been ripped out. His mouth was dry. The bitter taste of bile and fear stung the back of his throat. He didn’t want to die. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he’d endured and would have to endure, he still wanted to live. He wanted to hear his father welcome him home. He wanted to hug his mother. He wanted to see his wife smile again, see the way it lit up her eyes when she was excited. He wanted to sweep her up, to hold her and never again let go.

“I thought not,” Nor said. Clark looked up at his tormentor, hoping he could hide his fear and desperation. Nor nodded almost imperceptibly to his men. Clark shut his eyes, his entire body tensed in dreaded anticipation.

He heard the click of the triggers and shuddered. Nothing happened. The wind rushed out of him and he collapsed, drawing in breaths in heaving, labored sobs. His heart thundered so rapidly in chest, beating violently against his ribcage, he thought it would burst. He heard footsteps retreating and a door closing and he was alone again. For long minutes, it took all of his effort just to keep breathing. His heart finally slowed. “I am Clark Kent,” he whispered. “I have a mother and a father and a wife who love me dearly. I will not die because they need me.” He continued to repeat it in every language he knew except Kryptonian.

********

“My darling son, what exactly is it you plan to do with Kal El? Do you not think it time to apply your leverage in this situation?” Rae Et asked, trying to keep her tone patient, generally failing to do so.

Nor stood stiffly, his hands clasped together in front of him. “I am proceeding according to my own plan, mother,” Nor replied testily.

Rae Et sat down at her desk, gathering the folds of her robes. “It has been weeks,” she reminded him.

“And the longer we keep them waiting, the deeper the divisions in the Council become, and the weaker Zara’s coalition. They will begin to clamor for Kal El’s replacement, which will surely ignite another battle among the factions.”

“Be careful, my son,” Rae Et cautioned. “Do not let your pride cause you to tempt fate.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing!” Nor snapped.

Both looked up at the sound of a knock at the door. “Come in,” Rae Et commanded. The door opened and Jen Mai entered. He bowed slightly, remaining near the door. “I hope you are here to tell me that Pelmon has been taken care of,” she said without looking at the flunky.

The color drained from Jen Mai’s already pale face. “I’m afraid not. He is under constant guard and we have not been able to get near him. There is word from the outskirts of the valley, though.”

“What is it?” Rae Et demanded.

“A patrol was attacked. Two soldiers were killed, a third was wounded.”

Rae Et’s eyes narrowed as she frowned. “Were they ambushed?”

Jen Mai shook his head, a strand of his long, slicked back hair falling forward. “I don’t believe so, ma’am. The survivors described a single adversary. A woman.”

“Was it her?” Nor asked anxiously, knowing that no further explanation was necessary. This was the third time in as many weeks that she had eluded capture and killed his troops. It was because of her that they continued to move Kal El almost constantly.

Jen Mai frowned, tight lipped. “I am not certain, sir,” he replied.

“Find out,” Nor barked. Jen Mai nodded vigorously before backing out of the office and closing the door behind him.

“What drives this obsession of yours with her?” Rae Et asked, a note of amusement creeping into her voice.

“She defeated my army,” Nor replied irritably. “I would like to see her pay for it. Painfully.” His words were an understatement. He wanted nothing more than to personally visit every cruel and despicable form of degradation upon her that his mind could imagine. And he had a rather imaginative mind. The mere thought of the pain and humiliation he would wreak upon her caused a warm tingle to course through him and a smile tugged upward the corners of his mouth.

“As will everyone who has defied us. But do not let a private grudge…” She raised an eyebrow at her son. “Or any other base motive, cloud your judgment. With Pelmon’s betrayal, the factions in the Council will unite at last behind Zara. As that spineless lawyer makes known our involvement, the First Minister will be vindicated and the timid will grow resolute in their allegiance to her. Kal El is by far, the best leverage we retain.”

********

Zara ran an agitated, shaking hand through her hair. She’d barely slept in three weeks. The constant reports coming in from all corners of the planet held leads and scraps of intelligence, but nothing concrete. The Council was at her constantly – one faction demanding she assume full powers, another wanting more public disclosures about the search for Kal El, a third looking to replace him. The tone of the communications monitor sounded and she turned on the screen.

Ching appeared on the monitor, looking as tired and anxious as she felt. His eyes were red from lack of sleep. “There is news from the valley,” he declared, his voice devoid of emotion.

She stood up and walked toward the screen. “What is it? Have you found him?”

“No,” Ching admitted dejectedly. “But Parth found something during his searches. Uniforms.”

“The Expeditionary Forces uniforms that were missing from the inventory?” she asked.

“Aye, ma’am. Deep within rebel held territory. Someone had tried to burn them, but they were not successful in destroying all of them.”

“I want this information spread to everyone, as quickly as possible,” she said.

“Of course,” he replied with a nod.

“A team from the Legal Guild was called to investigate all of Pelmon’s claims. The vicious little man is suddenly only too eager to be of assistance.”

“Can we be sure he is not lying?”

“Enza reports that he has kept detailed evidence of all of his claims. He was prepared for this eventuality.”

Ching grunted. “It is good to know that he was consistent in his disloyalty.”

“Quite,” Zara replied. “His story has also been corroborated by Trey and the supply sergeant.”

“That is good news,” Ching said halfheartedly.

“It is,” she replied with a similar lack of enthusiasm. She gave him a feeble smile.

“Do you require anything further?”

She shook her head. “Be careful,” she added in earnest.

********

Clark tried vainly to shift his weight to his uninjured leg. During the last beating, Nor’s men had really done a serious amount of damage to his knee. Now it throbbed and ached incessantly and threatened to buckle underneath him. He’d passed out, as he often did, his last conscious thoughts of Lois. He didn’t really care that he was hallucinating. Seeing her, hearing her voice, even if it was only in his head, it was the only thing that was keeping him alive. So many times, he’d bitten his tongue to keep from begging Nor to simply kill him. He’d looked up at his tormentor in his darkest moments and silently wished for death, but then, Lois would appear in front of him. She would touch his face, whisper his name, squeeze his hand, or stroke his hair. Her name would escape his lips like a benediction and then, usually, he’d feel nothing.

He groggily looked up at the loud, echoing sound of footsteps. Nor walked slowly toward him, a smirk plastered on his face. “You are quite amusing when you babble in that mongrel tongue of yours; that sloppy, lilting language intrigues me. There’s this one word you repeat over and over. What was it? Oh yes, ‘Low-iss.’ What does it mean?”

Clark looked up, staring Nor in the eye and said nothing.

“Low-iss, Lowiss,” Nor repeated clumsily. “Are you begging for help? Perhaps pleading for mercy? What does the word mean? Are you calling for your mother?” Nor laughed.

“I will never tell you,” Clark spat.

Nor reared back and punched Clark in the face. “What does it mean?” Nor yelled.

“I will never tell you,” Clark repeated. The reign of blows commenced. Nor began hitting him with his fists before frantically searching for every object that could possibly be used as a weapon. Clark bit his lip to keep from screaming. He screwed his eyes shut, the pain exploded in his skull, searing, mind numbing, blotting out everything else. A single tear slipped from the corner of one eye.

********

Zara looked around the gathered assembly of leaders of the Council. Shai sat beside her, wearing the same somber expression as everyone else. “You have seen the evidence,” Zara began. “Soon, everyone else will, too. You have the proof that Rae Et and Nor are responsible for the attack on Ching and for the attempts on my life and Kal El’s. I have called you here to request your full support and I expect to receive it.”

“First Minister,” Alon began. “You have always had our support, but we remain concerned about Kal El.”

“As do we all,” Zara replied. “We will continue to search until he returns safely.”

“But what if the worst should occur?” Alon pushed gently.

Zara set her jaw sternly. “We will not give up hope. So long as there is a chance that he is alive, we will continue to look.”

Councilor Shai cleared his throat. “Councilor Alon raises a valid point.”

“It is one we will not entertain,” she replied. “I will not listen to speculation about who the next First Minister will be.”

“Ma’am,” Dural, the elder stateswoman, began. “You command our fealty, of that there is no question. We believe that the divisions of the Council can be mended. It is a united front we will present to our people’s enemies.”

“I hope that you are right,” Zara replied.

********

The red sun was high overhead when Talan retreated into the secluded pass. She traveled throughout the nights, hoping to avoid detection, but also because stopping when the planet’s temperature was at its lowest was dangerous. She had long ago learned to ignore the attendant pains of cold and exhaustion, but there was no sense in pushing the body beyond the breaking point. She lowered her pack gently to the ground as she sunk down, with her back against the rock face. Facing the pass, she could not be taken by surprise. Her hand resting against her weapon, she took in a deep breath, relaxed her body, and cleared her mind. Her face -- normally fair complexioned and now ruddy from sun and wind burn -- was expressionless. The world around her didn’t disappear entirely; instead it merely faded until it was nothing more than muted sounds and hazy colors. The sort of meditation which required complete divorce from the world was one she could not afford to practice; the potential for vulnerability out here was simply too great.

She could hear her own breathing and the steady beat of her heart as she willed her body to work out its aches and pains, to let the fatigue slip away, and to prepare itself for the long journey that still lay ahead. Sitting perfectly still, she felt in tune with the world, as though she could feel the vibration and pulse of the entire planet and that she’d become connected to it. The ground, the sky, her body, they were all the same; the same energy flowed through all three. Nearly an hour passed without her stirring. As she slowly allowed the waking world back in, she stretched her muscles, previously sore and now rejuvenated. Meditation had become as good as sleep for her and truth be told, she far preferred it. When she meditated she retained complete control. She could keep unbidden thoughts from coming to mind. Sleep was anarchic. It invited the chaos of dreams.

Or in her case, nightmares.

Years of martial pursuits had caused her to see enough bloodshed for a dozen lifetimes. Much of which she’d caused herself. Her hands had let slip a torrent of blood. Blood that drenched the earth, washed over her thoughts, and stained her soul. Blood that could not as easily be cleansed from her hands as it could from the blade of her knife. She had never taken a life in malice, had never used more force than was necessary, and had never killed except in the defense of life, but it didn’t change reality. Every time she closed her eyes, she’d see the faces of people whose lives she’d snuffed out. In moments when it was too still, when the world around her tried to lull her body into a sense of security, of welcomed, empty familiarity, she would fall prey to the ghosts of her past. It was impossible to block the thoughts out completely, but she did all she could to ward them off.

The human soul was a fragile thing. Taking a life altered it irredeemably. She wasn’t the person she’d been before she’d picked up the sword and even if she laid it down that instant, she could not go back. Besides which, she still had a duty, no matter how much it tore her apart to complete it. She had sworn to protect her people.

‘The innocent shall sleep tonight for I will watch over them.’

She repeated the oath of the Expeditionary Forces like a prayer, its meaning a touchstone. The innocent would sleep because she didn’t. The gentle would know peace because she had forgotten all but war. The good would step into the light because she mercilessly hunted the beasts that lurked in the darkness.

It mattered not that she would never rest, would never know the peace the righteous knew. She could not so much as blink without being haunted, so how could she expect to find a moment’s respite? She thought about a world redolent in deep and drowsing slumber, secure and unperturbed. It was a world she could never touch, but perhaps, in some small way, she could purchase that moment of quiet repose for her troubled world. Perhaps she could take the night back from the specters and demons that haunted her people. Perhaps she could help them know what it meant to be not afraid.

She wondered if Kal El was afraid. Bitter fear cut her deeply, intimately, in a way it had never done before. Her hopes and concerns had grown so abstracted with time. The only thing that had touched her life for many years had been death. She doled it out without passion, evaded it without conscious thought, despised it, but had exploited it nonetheless. Pain, fear, loneliness, these were not concepts that she could afford to entertain. She had allowed war to hollow her out; she could not let these other poisons to fill the emptiness inside her. But now, she found herself fretting over the life of a single person. She’d been rudely forced to stop thinking of the world in abstractions. Blood and tears mingled too easily and cries of pain could reverberate in one’s skull from now until the end of time. It would not be possible to shut Kal El’s pain out by simply refusing to close her eyes. She couldn’t drown out his entreaties for help through any trick of meditation.

All the evidence pointed to him still being alive. She clung to that, but it was not enough to ward off the knowledge that he existed in desperation, that he likely had been consumed by the belief that he had been forsaken. That the help he’d doubtlessly cried out for was not coming.

Gathering her equipment, she raced out of the pass. She would not fail him.

********

Clark hung his head, too weary to lift it. He looked down at where the chain around his neck should have been. Each time he thought about losing it, he’d become choked up. It must have fallen off his neck at some point during the ambush. He couldn’t remember a thing about that battle except waking up afterward in gruesome pain and without the ring.

Now, he barely recognized himself. He had no idea how long he’d been held captive, but given the amount of weight he’d lost, it must have been a while. His ribs stuck out too much. Looking down, he could see the wounds, old and new. None seemed to be healing well; they burned, throbbed, and ached, often reopening during the beatings. It grew more and more difficult to place any weight on his injured leg. As much as possible, he stood completely on one foot, keeping the other in bare contact with the ground. It throbbed constantly with a dull, radiating pain. He tried to reduce the burden on it by holding onto his chains and letting his arms support his body, but he would quickly tire of that, too. He’d turned into a thin, pale, dirty collection of wounds and aches. His wrists bled from his incessant attempts to break free from his bonds. Whenever Nor or his goons were around he remained docile and complacent or simply faked unconsciousness, but he constantly thought of escape. The longer he remained here, the weaker he would get and the less likely that Zara would be able to find him.

As bad as the beatings were, the interminable stretches of time he spent in total darkness, alone and ignored, often felt worse. When he managed to gather his wits about him, he could think of nothing other than how terribly alone he felt. At times, Nor would broadcast loud noises or taunts into whatever dungeon he was being held in, declaring that he was no one, that he was nothing, and didn’t matter. He would be kept awake for long hours he couldn’t keep track of, his body and mind beyond exhausted. He would retreat inside himself, feeling so small he thought he might just disappear.

He heard the dreaded sound of footsteps and stilled, hoping he’d succeed in convincing the guards that he was still out cold. The guards approached and he remained motionless. “See, I told you. He’s still unconscious,” one guard said to the other before giving Clark a vicious jab in the ribs. It took Clark every ounce of self-control to keep from crying out.

“Nor certainly gave him a sound beating,” the other remarked.

“Come on, we need to move him,” the first guard said. Clark tried to steady his nerves, he would only have one chance. He would need all of his strength and courage to accomplish this. If he could convince them that he was nothing resembling a threat, perhaps they would lower their guard. The two unfastened Clark’s bonds. Clark feinted toward one as though he was going to collapse, but then pushed the guard as hard as his weakened body could. He tried to flee but took exactly one step before his knee seemed to explode. He fell to the ground in a twisted heap of agony.

“Damn fool,” the second guard exclaimed as he grabbed Clark. “Where did you think you could go?” he yelled right into Clark’s ear. Through the dim fog of his mind, however, Clark barely heard him. He looked up through tears at the blurred visage of a long familiar apparition. She silently fell to her knees beside him, her own eyes shining bright with tears, and touched his face.

“I’m sorry,” Clark whispered, choking back a sob.

********