TOC Chapter 25:Her kiss was everything he’d been hoping for, gentle and sweet, a promise for more. Clark was aware of what a rare gift she was giving him. Finding a woman like Lois who was able to recognize him despite his outward appearance was a miracle beyond description. He didn’t want to let go of her, didn’t want to lose the lifeline that had saved him from drowning in despair.
But when Clark tried to reach out and pull her a little closer, the sharp tug of the handcuffs reminded him of the uncomfortable position his arms were caught in. The sudden brush with reality felt like a slap in the face.
Clark pulled back, his lips mourning the loss of contact. His throat became awfully tight. Memories of another kiss they’d shared flooded his mind - a kiss she hadn’t been giving so willingly. He tried to push those unwanted thoughts aside. Lois had proven that she could tell the difference between him and Luthor. She knew it hadn’t been Clark who’d forced the kiss. Still, he couldn’t quite look at her.
Part of him longed to kiss her again, to prove to her and himself that this time the passionate exchange was mutual. But as he shifted his position and felt the relentless tug of the handcuffs, he had to admit that this was not the time to try and mend his aching and confused heart. First and foremost they needed to fight Luthor. If he wanted Lois, he had to let her go and do her thing, regardless of how much he hated to put her in that position.
"Henderson is not the type to wait around. You should go." He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Please be careful. Superman might not be around to save the day."
His heart clenched painfully. That was putting it kindly. In fact, Superman was the worst threat she’d ever had to face. Ice filled his veins.
She nodded with a grimace. "I know.”
Her gaze drifted toward the cloth she held in her hand, as she’d done several times already. He could almost see the thoughts going through her mind. A troubled expression rippled across her features. Clark once again recalled their encounter in her apartment and the disgust he’d seen in her eyes as she’d followed his plea to blindfold and tie him up. In fact, the aversion he detected, the slight wrinkle to her nose, and the furrow of her brows almost equaled the expression she’d worn that night.
A cry of protest fought its way to the front of his mind, bemoaning the unfairness of it all. He didn’t want to sit here tied up, he didn’t want to be blindfolded for a crime he hadn’t even committed. It didn’t sit well with him, that he allowed her to render him helpless when most of his life he’d been the one person who could help even when everything seemed lost. He didn’t want to sit here and wait for his fate to unfold and accept whatever life might throw at him. He was stronger than that, more capable than that.
Only he wasn’t. Not this time.
Lois stood up and dropped the piece of cloth. "I can't do this to you."
His heart was heavy, but he knew very well that there was no way around it, no way to lift the burden off her shoulders. Much as he wanted to, much as he hated it.
"You know you have to," he muttered hoarsely. "Luthor will come back. And right now, all I can give you is more time. I wish things were different."
She grimaced again, inhaled deeply and knelt down. He could see her hands tremble and registered how rigid her stance was. Every single curled up muscle in her body was testament to how much she hated this.
"All right." She picked up the fabric and gave him a last, forced smile before she covered his eyes and tied the cloth around his head.
Clark’s heart rate spiked. He sucked in a breath, silently counted to ten and told himself that she wasn’t really tying up him. This was for Luthor, to keep
him in check, to convince
him that he had the upper hand in a game, which… he was very likely to win. The thought inserted itself into Clark's mind against his will.
Clark tried to push it aside and replace it with a more optimistic estimate of his odds.
Before he could lose his nerve, he added. "Now the gag."
He opened his mouth for her, but the second cloth didn’t come. "I'm sorry, Clark, but I just can't."
A shaky sob escaped her and then he heard her run off.
Clark felt lost without her presence, swimming in a sea of despair, the waves pushing him around relentlessly.
“Lois, wait, it would be better-” He couldn’t finish the words. Was he actually begging her to gag him? Did he really want that? Would it make him feel better in some crooked sort of way?
He didn't know. He didn't even know if she still heard him.
Before he had a chance to make up his mind, the world spun. A strong wave of dizziness pushed him out of his body with the force of a tsunami. For a moment the waves rolled over him, leaving him reeling.
Then, slowly, the fog in his mind cleared.
Everything was pitch black. The sound of crashing waves filled the air. He was lying flat on his stomach. His right cheek itched a bit. Something scratched his face as he turned his head and pushed himself up. His hands sank deeper into the wet sand. Wind was pulling at his soaked cape, still strong enough to be noticeable but a lot weaker than many hours before.
Clark stood and brushed sand from his cheek. He tried to dust off his wet suit, but that was no use. The sand stuck to both his hands and the fabric. He inhaled deeply and smelled salty air, fish, and algae. Though it wasn't the first time this happened, finding himself in one place only to wake up in a completely different place a moment later was still disconcerting.
He felt much better than he had right after the rescue - a lot stronger, better rested, not to mention like himself again. Though he didn't try to lift his feet off the ground, he was confident that he could now.
The thought immediately sent a chill down his spine.
He clenched his hands into fists and grimaced. Flying was the single power he'd always embraced. And now he dreaded it. Damn Luthor!
Clark let out a breath and consciously relaxed his hands. It wouldn't help anyone if he lost his composure, least of all himself. He was back in his own body now. Maybe there was something he could do to help, something a bit more productive than sitting cuffed to a radiator. He winced. He hadn’t spent much time considering what he was going to do once he was back.
There was no question what Luthor would do now if he knew what Clark knew - where his counterpart was sitting, helpless to stop a superpowered being. He’d fly back to Metropolis in a wink. It wouldn’t take him more than a few minutes. Dart back to Metropolis, barrel into the hospital and finish Luthor off. Problem solved.
Just a couple of minutes and this nightmare would be over.
To have another nightmare begin.
If he killed Luthor now, there would be no going back from that. He’d be the monster Trask and Luthor had wanted people to see in him. Luthor wouldn’t mind, he wouldn’t waste a thought on it. That was why Clark could never do anything like that. He didn’t want to look Lois in the eyes and confess to what he’d done. Even if - for the greater good - it might be the right choice.
Clark closed his eyes. No matter how enticing the prospect of just being rid of Luthor was…
His breath caught - what if this was what it would ultimately take to win this war? What if he had no choice but to kill the man? What if there was no other way to take back his body for good?
He buried his face in his hands. No, he couldn’t think like that. There was always a choice, he’d proven that time and time again. He would find a way, maybe he’d find it right here while he was in his own body. He’d fought against Luthor in his mind. He’d kept him out while saving a cruise ship. This time he didn’t even have to carry the ship to safety. It should be easier this time to stay in his own head.
Clark released a sigh and sank down to sit on the wet sand. This was what he could do for Lois, keep Luthor out as long as he could. His strength was returning and he could sense his powers rippling through his body. They weren’t at a hundred percent yet. Perhaps Luthor wouldn’t notice that he could fly again before the sun came up. Maybe he would. Lois could use all the help she could get.
He needed to anchor himself in his own body, much like he had under that ship.
Clark buried his hands deep in the wet sand, feeling the texture. He looked at the sea, listened to the rolling waves and felt the strong gust of wind on his face. It was no longer raining. The dark sea was hardly visible under the dark clouds covering the sky, keeping the stars hidden. He had no idea if he was facing east, where the sun would come up in a few hours. Would he still be sitting here then?
There was a push against his mind, combined with dizziness. Clark gripped the sand tighter, feeling the small grains give way. He concentrated on the salty smell of the water. With his mind he pushed back. This time he wouldn’t let Luthor take over again. He wouldn’t let him hurt Lois again.
The tug on his mind became more insistent. He needed to concentrate. Clark gritted his teeth against the onslaught. He wouldn’t give in, he couldn’t give in.
Dr. Kelly’s words suddenly reverberated through his mind.
<You’re killing him faster. You need to rest in order to heal.> Clark felt a pang of doubt. Was this doing the wrong thing? But he was resting. They were both just sitting. Sitting and fighting a war over who had the right to own whose body.
Luthor used Clark’s doubts to double his assault. Black stars danced before Clark’s eyes and as if through thick fog, he felt himself tilt to the side. A blinding headache split his head in two. He caught himself before he fell into the sand and pushed his body back up until he was sitting straight again.
*Concentrate on the sound of the waves, feel the sand in your hands, feel the wind on your face,* Clark told himself firmly. *You need to stay on this beach until he gives up.*
But would he give up? Unlike him, Luthor was sitting in a hospital right now, both hands cuffed to a radiator. He was supposed to be convinced that Nigel had captured Luthor’s old body, which would mean that Luthor’s victory was only a matter of time. There would be no creeping doubts rendering him vulnerable.
On the other hand Clark knew that no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he was on the right path, the odds were still firmly stacked against him.
The onslaught of Luthor’s mind on Clark’s became stronger and ripped a scream from Clark’s throat. He fought to focus on his surroundings, ran his hands through the rough sand and dug his heels into the ground as if that would somehow help him to remain where he was.
The dizziness only got worse, the headache spiked and he felt an unfamiliar rush of nausea wash over him. Clark tried to breathe through it, feel the cool, damp air flow in through his nose and out of his mouth. He would stay here.
The song of birds filled the air, telling Clark that dawn was near. But the sky was still black, void of any light. He could do this. He could keep Luthor out until the sun would paint the sky in orange light.
But then the world tilted off of its axis again and Clark tipped over. The sharp tug of handcuffs kept him from hitting the ground.
Comments
