Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic A Matter of Trust 16/33

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Chapter 16:

Clark moved his legs and fought to go on. Keeping Luthor out was getting easier. The pain of exertion seemed to help with that, grounded him. Time had lost its meaning. All that mattered was the task at hand. The ship weighed him down; the water had become a massive wall that he tried to break through. He didn't know how much longer he could go on.

"Another few degrees starboard," the first officer informed him. "We're almost there. Slow down."

Clark complied, gratefully. He opened his eyes. The ground was much closer now. And it was approaching faster than he would have liked. The weight of the ship was pressing down on him with a vengeance and it became next to impossible to keep it afloat any longer. He swam slower, but the momentum of the ship dragged him on. There was no energy left to stop it.

“We’re too fast,” the first officer yelled.

“Are the main engines online?” the captain asked.

“Some of them,” another officer replied.

“Full power back,” the captain ordered.

Clark let go of the ship and moved forward, trying to take on the ship from the bow. His arms were trembling badly as he pushed. The effect of his efforts was minimal. He pushed harder, but it was to no avail. His strength was failing him. After long minutes of fruitless struggle, Clark heard the deep rumble of machines roaring to life. The propeller moved, reluctant at first, but picking up speed.

Finally, Clark felt the ship slow and let go of it as another strong wave of dizziness hit him hard. His lungs felt like they were bursting with the need for oxygen. He was beginning to feel lightheaded and fought to propel himself upward. It seemed to take forever until he made it around the ship and managed to break through the surface. His superspeed was gone, too.

The first gulp of air felt heavenly. A wave rolled over him, leaving him coughing and gasping for breath. He tasted salt. As he drew in the next breath, the lightheadedness slowly faded. He treaded water for a while, catching his breath. His muscles were sore. It took a conscious effort to lift himself back up into the air.

Superman flew back to the ship, though he had really no idea what he was supposed to do there, how he could possibly continue to help. He didn't feel up to carrying his own weight, much less that of a thousand passengers. The realization was unsettling. Something was wrong.

The wind in the bay was noticeably weaker. The people on the bridge as well as on the rest of the ship were waving their hands and cheering as Superman set his feet down on the ship.

“Thank you so much, Superman,” the captain said. “I think we’ll be able to take it from here. We have a few lifeboats we can use to get the people off board. And the coast guard told us that they’ll be able to assist us soon. You saved our lives. How can we ever thank you?”

The pain behind his eyes returned full force. Nausea rose in his stomach. He clenched his hands into tight fists, desperately trying to hide just how awful he felt. Something was seriously wrong.

Superman managed a weak smile. “There is no need.”

Dizziness once more overtook him, threatening to knock out his legs from under him. Now-familiar black spots danced before his eyes. He gave the crew a tight nod and shot up straight into the sky before anyone could call him out on his sudden deterioration. The pull of gravity was strong and he used up every last ounce of strength defying it. Clark headed out, searching for a secluded place to land before he simply fell from the sky. He knew it wouldn't be long before Luthor took back over.

The world around him was pitch black.

His powers failed him before he really had a chance to make up his mind. The descent was fast and hard. Another strong wave of dizziness hit him, finally yanking him out of his body. He lost his hold on himself, tumbling through a void until he was back in the harsh daylight and a body that was riddled with a different set of pains.

His legs gave out under him and he collapsed in a heap. The pain in his chest slammed into him, burning white hot. Raging nausea washed over him and made his stomach lurch. Taking deep breaths, he willed the nausea down and barely managed to keep his breakfast. Droplets of cold sweat covered his forehead and his arms shook violently as he leaned on them.

It took a while until the world stopped spinning and the black blotches tinting his vision reduced to spots before they gradually vanished.

Someone touched his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Clark looked up into the face of a man who seemed rather concerned.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Clark gritted his teeth, scrambled back to wobbly feet, and brushed the dirt off his pants. "Guess I stumbled over my feet."

The man's gaze drifted over Clark's swaying form. An expression of doubt was written all over his face.

"You sure?" he asked skeptically. "You looked like you were about to pass out there. Should I call an ambulance?"

Alarmed, Clark stared at the man. He knew he wasn't in good shape. If he looked even half as crappy as he felt, chances were good that the stranger would feel compelled to call for help regardless of what he said.

"Oh, no, don't worry about me." Clark tried to smile for him. "I've been having trouble with my equilibrium ever since I had a nasty ear infection. It's nothing serious. Just annoying as hell."

Hopefully, he wouldn't study him too closely, taking in his paleness and overall condition. It took up all Clark’s strength just to remain standing. He locked his knees underneath him and did his best to keep his hands from trembling.

"Okay, if you're sure."

A look of disgust flashed across the other man's face, as if he was mentally picturing the kind of infection that might result in Clark's current sorry state. At least he didn’t seem to be questioning his explanation.

Clark gritted his teeth, knowing that he had to fight his fatigue just a bit longer. “I’m sure.”

The man seemed rather relieved that his presence was no longer required. "I've got to hurry. Will you be all right on your own?"

Clark quickly nodded, though he still felt shaky and exhausted. "Yeah, thanks for your help. I'll be fine."

He plastered a huge smile on his face, this time feeling he was more convincing.

The other man smiled back and hurried on.

Clark wiped the sweat off his brow and sagged a bit. But the bout of weakness and nausea had finally passed, and he was gradually feeling better than he had moments ago. Moreover, he realized that the way his powers had failed him back in Rhelasia, he wouldn't have to worry about SuperLex showing up anytime soon. It would be a few more hours before the sun came up to recharge him. Until then he was stuck in Asia.

Clark allowed himself a breath of relief. He'd have time to find Lois and work on their plan to get his body back. That thought alone did much for his sense of wellbeing. Though he still felt miserable, he managed to regain some of his optimism. Things didn't look as bleak as they had before he’d left for the rescue. Even the pain in his body faded to a dull ache.

Now that he no longer felt on the verge of collapsing, Clark took a moment to study his surroundings.

Luthor had taken him quite a way from the alley he'd hidden in. He was back on the main street, farther from the old hospital than he'd been before. A phone booth stood a couple of yards from him, the receiver dangling in the air, still moving slightly as if someone had just recently dropped it.

Clark felt his heart stop. Had Luthor used the opportunity to call someone? Could that be possible? He’d no idea how long he’d been out of sorts after his return into Luthor’s body. It seemed like much more time had passed, but that could just be him. Clark wiped his face and eyed the receiver with a glare. And here he’d thought that he was reasonably safe for the next few hours to come.

“Shoot!” His muttered expletive felt strangely unsatisfying.

But he had no intention to stick around and find another one that would better match his mood. For all intents and purposes, he had to assume that Luthor’s thugs were now onto him.

Clark looked around, trying to see if he recognized anyone, particularly Luthor’s infamous English butler, who was far more likely an assassin. He didn’t see anyone in his immediate vicinity and stumbled on. Luthor could only know where he’d been, so he shouldn’t just sit here and wait until whoever was after him found him.

Clark mustered up what strength he’d left. He wanted to get off the street and out of view, so he ducked into a small alley that led to a parallel street. Now and again, he glanced over his shoulder, wondering if anyone was following him. He turned up the collar of his coat and pulled the cap lower to cover more of his face.

There were fewer people on the street around the next corner, which made it easier to see if anyone was after him, but also more difficult to stay out of sight.

He picked up his pace as much as his tired legs would let him. His feet sounded unnaturally loud on the pavement. Clark tried to shake the notion that he was drawing everybody's attention. Surely, it was just his frayed talking. He hurried on, passed several shops and when he looked over his shoulder again, he saw no one behind him.

As he turned back, he heard an engine and a moment later, a police car rounded the next corner. Involuntarily, Clark slowed. His breath caught and he felt beads of sweat on his forehead. He was still looking like Metropolis' most wanted criminal. Running into the police seemed like a bad idea. But he didn't have the time or the energy to run another way. While he’d been back in his own body, Luthor had taken him quite a way in the wrong direction. Now he had to walk much longer than he wanted before he’d be back at the old hospital.

The police car stopped in front of a small deli and the officers got out. They rushed toward the door, right as a robber stormed out. He brushed past the officers, pushing them out of his way, before they had had a chance to aim their weapons.

The robber wasn't even wearing a mask. Apparently, he'd been confident that there would be no police in this part of town and hadn’t considered that the shop owner might have a silent alarm. The robber came running toward Clark, who managed to duck out of his way just in time. The police officers were hot on his heels. As they passed him, one of the police officers looked straight at Clark. And for an agonizing moment, Clark thought he saw recognition in the other man’s eyes. The police man slowed, just a bit, or so it seemed. Clark’s heart beat in his throat and he averted his gaze, trying to appear casual. Then the police man ran on, speeding after his partner and the robber. Clark concentrated on their steps, carefully listened until they became fainter. He was hard pressed not to start running himself. The last thing he needed was that the police was onto him, too

Feeling dazed, Clark continued his way to the old hospital. He adjusted the cap, making sure it still covered his face. Would Lois already be waiting for him? Clark had a look at his wristwatch, trying to recall the time difference between Metropolis and Singapore. Rhelasia had to be in that same time zone. Was it ten hours or more? His mind was a jumble. He wasn’t even sure when he’d flown there, exactly, how much time he’d spent on the other side of the world.

He threw another glance over his shoulder and froze. Was there a shadow behind him? His heart skipped a beat. Clark quickened his pace as far as his legs would let him. It was a pitiful attempt, because he wasn’t exactly in the right shape to outrun anyone, not even a sexagenerian. The graze shot wound in his upper arm throbbed as he jostled it with every heavy step. The skin on his chest was tight and itchy. He was panting hard. As he turned another corner, Clark hastily looked for pursuers, but spotted none.

Still, he decided it was probably best to head back toward the main street. More people would give him a better chance to vanish between them. And hopefully, whoever was after him - if there even was one - wouldn’t draw his weapon among a crowd and shoot at innocent bystanders. Not that he was guilty of anything other than being who he was.

He really didn’t want to think about what would happen if his assessment of the presumed pursuer was wrong. Clark steadied himself against a wall and squeezed his eyes shut as a surge of guilt and dizziness washed over him. It wouldn’t help in the least to go through all the possible scenarios of how everything would end up in disaster. For now, he was the best chance the world had to be saved from a superpowered Lex Luthor.

He had to believe in that or he wasn’t going to succeed. Clark pushed himself off the wall and staggered on. He needed to go on, needed to fight.

***

If anyone were to ask Clark how he’d managed to make it back to the abandoned hospital, he couldn’t have said. It had all coalesced to a blur - the people he’d stumbled past, the frequent glances over his shoulder that had never truly revealed someone following him, and the sheer endless march back. Clark had done the only thing he still felt reasonably capable of, and that was putting one foot in front of the other. His breath was now ragged with his ribs painfully protesting against every breath he took. The beads of sweat streaming down his forehead, back, and chest had long since soaked his shirt. Their salty remnants were stinging in the wound on his left arm that was throbbing in tune with his racing pulse. The burns on his chest were on fire again.

Clark felt about ready to collapse when he finally spotted the metal door of the hospital’s back entrance. The black varnish was peeling off in many places, revealing a deep layer of rust. On his way out of the building, he hadn’t paid close attention to his surroundings, caring more about his hunger than anything else. Now Clark couldn’t help but wonder how he’d managed to find this place in the dark while he’d been completely out of it. There had to be some higher power that had been protecting him, and he thanked it quietly when he slipped through the squeaking door and into the dim light of the building.

A few old, nearly crumbled beds lined the wall. Narrow windows were so dirty that the light filtering through was scarce. Some broken panes resulted in islands of light that caught Clark’s attention, seemingly calling to him as if he was the moth desperate to find the flame. He curled his lips and tore his gaze away. The sunlight wasn’t going to help him.

He missed it badly - the prickling sensation and the strength that came with it. Though his current state wasn't much different than the aftermath of prolonged kryptonite exposure in that respect, there was something much more final about his loss of powers this time.

Out of the corner of his eye, Clark spotted some movement. He stilled. Had that just been a shadow, a cloud covering the sun for a moment? Or was someone there? He strained his hearing, but his ears were just buzzing with his pulse hammering, his ragged breaths and some odd tinnitus that was caused by his dizziness.

What if it was Lois? Would she step out of the shadows as long as she wasn't sure that he was really Clark? Would she assume that it was safe to come out, just because he was here? He hoped not.

And what if there was someone else looming in the shadows? Nigel St. John might have found another entrance and could already be waiting for him here. Clark didn't want to tip him off that he was expecting Lois.

He racked his brain, trying to think of a memory they shared, something he could remind her of without anyone knowing what he was up to. That memory had to work without words. A song perhaps?

Clark instantly thought about Lois on the stage of a shady bar, dressed in a breathtaking white gown. It had been the first time he'd heard her sing. Just the memory threatened to let him forget the world around him. He'd been mesmerized. The hold she'd had on his heart even then had only been tightened. In that shady bar, he'd caught a glimpse of the sensual woman underneath the rough exterior.

But Luthor had been there as well.

He had to find something else, something that only belonged to them. One of the many nights he'd snuck past her defensive lines, dressed in blue spandex, to get another taste of her, to remind himself why it was important that he kept fighting for her.

Clark closed his eyes as he remembered dancing with her in his arms, hovering a foot above the floor. That evening, he'd allowed one of his dreams to come true after a rotten day. He'd needed that, still sometimes dreamed her back into his arms when things looked bleak. After that evening he’d cursed himself for his own stupidity, because he’d been all too aware that he’d essentially been shooting himself in the foot when he continued to pursue her as Superman.

But he’d never been able to help himself when it came to Lois. And now he was grateful that he at least had this memory to draw from if she never let him hold her like this again as either Clark or Superman.

He began to hum the song they'd danced to as he continued his way down the hall.



Would it have to remain another dream of him to show her his favorite spot among the clouds? He stumbled on, humming a song that seemed to belong to another life. Either he was going to find Lois or he was going to run into Nigel St. John. In any case he'd end up fighting for his life. He could only hope that the life he wanted with Lois wasn't already lost.

Once again Clark saw a motion in the shadows. His heart beat in his throat and he tensed up, ready to face whatever fate might throw at him. He took a deep breath, before he made another step.

His abilities were pathetic at best, but he started to sing.



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