From Last Time:
"Ma'am, command is on the wireless," her subordinate interrupted. "Teams Four One and Two Nine are under attack. Reinforcements have been scrambled, but they're miles away."
Her mind raced. This wasn't happening. In the distance, she could hear the sound of the approaching convoy. Nor was so close. And he was going to slip through her fingers. Her team was miles away from where it was supposed to be. They should have been within striking distance of that firefight. She should have been there to protect her troops. Instead, she'd broken perimeter and left them completely vulnerable.
"Ma'am, what are your orders," her Lieutenant Commander asked, his voice taking on an anxious pitch.
She turned toward him, her heart pounding, her mouth suddenly dry. "Fall back," she said. "We're not leaving them out there."
"Aye, ma'am," he replied. "Double time! Move out!" he shouted at the soldiers.
Talan turned to look over her shoulder one last time at the long, winding road that would bring Nor through this canyon. Into what would have been a waiting trap. It was the road that would have delivered him to justice.
********
New Stuff:
"Let me guess, you're not letting go of this family thing?" Lois asked.
"I was hoping we could delve deeper into the subject," Dr. Friskin admitted.
"I don't understand why this is relevant," Lois replied obstinately.
"It's relevant because of how much you can learn about a person from their relationships with friends and family."
"Look, my problems don't stem from childhood trauma or being potty trained too early. I spend every day trying to stop a genocide; it's frustrating, heart breaking, soul crushing work and I want to keep my family separate from that."
"Uh, Ultrawoman?" Dr. Friskin began.
"What? What is it?" Lois said, glancing over…three feet above her therapist's head.
"You're floating."
"Oh, right." Lois floated back down to the couch.
"Do you often float unconsciously?"
"No, only when…" Lois began, but stopped, thinking better of it.
"Only when?" Of course Dr. Friskin wasn't going to let it go.
"Only when I feel like I can't control what's going on. Even if I can't keep everything from falling apart, I can still flout the laws of gravity."
"Control is very important to you, isn't it?"
"I have to control my strength, my reactions, my emotions…"
"Do you feel like you have to exercise that sort of control over your feelings with your family?"
Lois chewed her lip, deep in thought. "No. It's not the same with them."
"What's different?"
"With them, I'm just an ordinary person. I'm allowed to be wrong. I'm allowed to screw up, and make mistakes and fall apart. That's burden enough. I don't need to lay all the details of my worst days on them."
********
Nor threw a chair across the room, sending it crashing into the bunker wall. "How were you so utterly routed again?!" he demanded.
"She came out of nowhere," his lieutenant stammered. "We had that reconnaissance patrol pinned down when she just appeared."
"She didn't just appear out of thin air." Nor's voice dripped with anger.
"The men call her the gray-eyed ghost, sir," the Lieutenant said fearfully.
"She is flesh and bone and she will bleed," Nor seethed. "I'm tired of running from her. I'm tired of fleeing in the middle of the night from one underground dungeon to the next. I will find her. I will capture her. And I will watch her bleed."
********
Talan sat on her bed in the dark, still wearing her mud and blood spattered uniform. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and stared unblinking at nothing at all. A trembling hand dragged itself through her hair. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have been so utterly reckless and irrational?
It was hate.
Her pure, unleavened hatred of Nor had led her here. To this place of darkness and disorder. She shuddered as she exhaled. She didn't want justice. She wanted revenge. Talan wanted to punish Nor personally for everything he'd taken from her people. For everything Nor taken from him.
The realization hit her, hard and cold in the gut. This was personal. Her work had never been personal before. It had always been anything but. She fought for intangible things, for the ideals and abstractions she could maintain so long as she didn't allow the fighting of the war to affect her. If she remained detached she could continue to believe in justice and a peaceful future, even as she relentlessly fought against the rebel threat. But this wasn't about high-minded beliefs. It wasn't even about right and wrong anymore.
She wanted Nor to suffer, the way he'd made Kal El suffer. She wanted to believe that if Nor were dead, perhaps it would buy the First Minister some peace of mind. If she killed Nor, the rebellion would collapse, the threat to her people would evaporate, and perhaps, just perhaps, Kal El's nightmares would end. Perhaps the haunted look in his eyes would disappear. Perhaps he'd find a way to conquer the anger and confusion that wracked his troubled mind.
Even if there was only the slimmest thread of a possibility that Nor's death would bring that sort of change, how could she not want it? How could there possibly be anything in the world that she wanted more than to eliminate the source of such misery and despair, not only for her people but for Kal El?
But she realized, dimly somewhere in the back of her mind, that killing Nor would not magically set things right. It wouldn't undo the past. It wouldn't take away the pain and abuse Kal El had suffered. It wouldn't resurrect the dead of Terian, Breksin, or Silban.
Talan tried not to dwell on the reason why Kal El's pain affected her more than that of others. True, he was her commander and she was duty bound to follow him, but this wasn't about respecting his office or even admiring him as a leader any more. This was…she didn't even have the words to describe it—it was fully beyond her ken—but it crossed lines and boundaries she might not have been able to see, but that were doubtlessly there.
A headache was starting to form behind her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to breathe deeply and clear her mind. If she could only center herself. If she could cleanse her mind of its errant thoughts and unwanted ruminations, she could regain her composure, seize hold of control again and never let go of it. This chaotic squall of confusion and emotions was not for her. It was messy and complicated and she wanted no part of it.
********
"You've made a mess of yourself, haven't you, kiddo?" Lois asked with mock consternation.
Jon gave her a big grin with his mouth full of tiny baby teeth. He was wearing more of the apple sauce than he'd actually eaten. He held his arms up to her as she lifted him out of his high chair. "I think someone needs a bath," she announced.
"Bath!" he repeated excitedly. She'd never imagined a little kid would enjoy baths as much as Jon did. He giggled as she took off his bib—the poor thing had been no match for his creative eating technique— and tickled his tummy.
"You even got it in your hair," she noted, shaking her head. "We're going to have to make this quick because I owe your Uncle Perry a column and he gets very grumpy if I don't make his deadlines." Jon giggled again, seemingly unperturbed by the demands of her career.
"Sure, you're laughing, but that's because you've never seen Uncle Perry grumpy," she said as she carried him up the stairs.
As she ran the warm water for Jon's bath her hearing kicked in. Jonathan and Martha must have gotten back from town. "That thresher hasn't got another harvest left in it," Jonathan muttered.
Lois realized that she shouldn't have been listening, but she couldn't quite make herself tune back out. "But can we afford another one?" she heard Martha ask.
"I can take another mortgage out on the north sixty," her father-in-law replied.
Lois frowned. Her in-laws were having financial troubles and she was completely ignorant of them. Just how wrapped up in her own world had she been? How could she not have known about this? Jon's splashing brought her focus back to giving her son his bath.
She wrapped him up in his yellow towel, drying him off before dressing him in clean clothes. She carried him back to his room where she put him down for his nap. She bent down to kiss his forehead before retreating from the room and heading downstairs to the den. As she approached, Martha and Jonathan looked up from the stacks of paper littering the coffee table.
"Hi honey," Martha said cheerfully. "Is Jon asleep?"
"Yeah," Lois replied, leaning against the doorframe. "I didn't mean to listen in, but I couldn't help but hear that you need to buy a new thresher."
"Oh, yeah," Jonathan replied simply.
"Let me help," Lois insisted.
"We should be able to get a loan from the bank," Jonathan said.
She knew she was running the risk of offending her father-in-law's pride. He wasn't a vain man, not at all, but he was self-reliant. "Family takes care of each other, right?" she said. "And for the last few years, you two have taken care of me and Jon. I've put such an incredible burden on you and I haven't been pulling my weight around here."
"Lois, you could never be a burden!" Martha exclaimed.
"And we couldn't ask you to…" Jonathan began.
"But you're not asking, I'm offering. I make a lot more now as a columnist than I did as a reporter and my book is still selling. I mean, there's already enough in savings to send Jon to college, journalism school, medical school, business school, and god, even law school."
Her in-laws smiled. "We'll pay you back," Jonathan insisted.
"Okay," Lois replied with a nod.
"You going on a patrol?" Jonathan asked.
She shook her head. "I've got to finish my column and the foreign minister of Russia is in D.C. today. He promised Ultrawoman half an hour before his dinner at the White House, but I should be back in time to put Jon to bed."
Her mother-in-law chuckled. "You lead the most peculiar life."
"I really do," Lois agreed.
********
"I'm told it was a rather intense battle, Commander," the First Minister said dispassionately.
Talan looked down, avoiding the communication monitor and the First Minister's piercing gaze. "Yes, ma'am," she replied.
"You and your troops performed brilliantly, I understand you soundly defeated the rebel threat, with minimal casualties."
"A few wounded, no dead," Talan confirmed.
"Well done, Commander," Zara said with a slight nod.
Stunned, Talan said nothing. She disliked few things more than receiving unearned praise. "Ma'am, with all due respect, you should be considering whether to ask for my resignation, not commending me. I wrote the rules of engagement and I violated them. That reconnaissance mission was vulnerable because I broke perimeter. I've committed the worst crime a commander can. I exposed my forces to unnecessary danger and compromised my mission objectives. That there were no fatalities is because of sheer luck, not because I did my job properly."
Zara seemed to pause, as though taking in her subordinate's outburst. "I have had to relieve three general commanders, including your counterpart in non-combat operations, in the last few weeks. I do not have the luxury of seeking your resignation. And you do not have the luxury of taking such reckless actions ever again."
"I understand," Talan replied.
"Commander, I believe that history will be merciful. That it will forgive us our honest mistakes. But I worry that there will be no history, no one left to judge us, if we make errors like this one again."
"I cannot begin to apologize enough," Talan said quietly. She looked straight at the monitor and the image of her commander's frowning expression.
"Whatever caused this lapse in judgment, Commander, I suggest you put it behind you."
"Of course, ma'am."
********
Clark walked down the corridor connecting the gymnasium to his quarters, his muscles stiff and aching. In his room, he stripped off his sparring uniform and stepped into the shower. He stood under the hot stream of water, letting the tension leech away, as he scrubbed away the seemingly endless day.
He shut off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. Clark stood in front of the mirror and stared at his reflection. He wasn't weak or frail or thin anymore. He wasn't the ghost he'd been a few months ago. But he wasn't the man he'd been before, either. The muscles may have been strong, but they were covered in scars. Scars that went deep, that were ugly, dark and wide. Scars that wouldn't heal.
Clark picked up the ring from where it lay against the large cheloid-covered wound that cut across his chest. He held it between his finger and thumb and stared at it. She had really slender fingers, he thought to himself as he looked at the little gold band. He loved her hands. They were small, but strong, and always moving. Her skin was so soft and her fingers intertwined so easily with his whenever they held hands.
In his room he changed for bed and lay down. He stared up at the ceiling, holding the ring in his palm. His fingers curled around it tightly, his hand warming the metal. Outside, two armies waged a war for this planet's future. In here, it was quiet and he was alone – his thoughts a billion miles away, in a different world, with a woman he loved more than anything.
How was it possible that they'd only been together as a married couple for a day? That they'd only made love that one night? Or that they'd only woken up together that one morning? He wondered what it would have been like, being with her these last few years. If he hadn't left, if he'd stayed where he belonged, with her, what would they have been doing? Where would they have been in their lives? Would they have bought a bigger place together? Maybe because they were thinking of starting a family? He felt a wistful smile spread across his face. Nothing would have made him happier than to have a child with her—to bring a little person into the world together. He didn't even know if it was possible, but he could still hope. Would they have been ready for kids? He liked to think they would have been, that maybe Lois would even have been pregnant by now. Despite her protestations to the contrary, he'd known she was going to make an excellent mother. She loved fearlessly and the incredible loyalty and protectiveness in her was only going to grow even stronger.
He'd known when he agreed to do this that the separation would be unbearable, that it would be the toughest thing he'd ever had to do. But he'd never expected that anything, in this world or any other, could have made him think about breaking his promise to make it back home. How could he have considered giving up? How could he have resigned himself, so thoroughly, to defeat, to failure? How could he have contemplated begging Nor to put him out of his misery? Did his promise mean nothing? Was his word worthless?
"I'm sorry," he whispered to a woman who couldn't hear him and didn't yet know what he was apologizing for. "I won't be weak again. I won't forget the promise I made you ever again." He closed his eyes and thought of the litany he repeated to himself on so many dark nights, both in Nor's dungeons and afterward.
I am Clark Kent. I have a mother and a father and a wife who love me dearly. I will not die because they need me.
********
Lois touched down in the compound near Rapin's office and knocked on the door.
The general opened the door and motioned for her to come in. "What's up?" Lois asked.
"The UNICEF camp on the Mawalian border has come under attack," he said anxiously as he paced behind his desk.
"UNICEF? You're kidding me," she replied. Now they were targeting children's hospitals?
Rapin pulled off his beret and ran an agitated hand through his shortly cropped hair. "The rebels have taken the aid workers hostage."
Lois crossed the office to the large table covered by a map of the Lake Regina Valley. Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at the map, her arms folded across her chest. "Get Dalton on the phone," she said.
A few minutes later the Canadian diplomat's voice came through the speakerphone. "What's going on?" he demanded.
Rapin filled him in on the sketchy details they had as Lois continued to stare at the map, deep in thought. Mawali had the geographic misfortune of being wedged up against Kinwara and Togoro, and therefore caught right in the middle of this war. "That camp is on the other side of the border with Mawali," she said at last.
"That's right," Rapin said. "UNICEF has been working with the Mawalian government to deal with the refugee situation."
"Which means the rebels probably crossed the border to attack it," she replied.
"Which makes this an international conflict," Dalton added.
"Casus belli," she said quietly. This might be the justification needed to sway the last of the holdouts on the Security Council. The rebels had now attacked a separate, sovereign country. "Is there a peacekeeping force in Mawali?"
"Just a small contingent to monitor the border," Rapin said.
"Make sure they're on alert," she replied.
"What do you plan to do?" Dalton asked, his voice sounding tinny and hollow on the speakerphone.
"I'm going to the camp and if it's possible, I'm going to rescue the hostages right now," she said matter-of-factly. "Are you going to try to stop me?"
"Wouldn't dream of it," Dalton replied.
"Good. General Rapin, I'll give you an assessment of the situation as soon as I get there."
"I'll be waiting," the general replied.
"If I don't think this can be done safely, Ambassador, I might need you to convince the Security Council to lend me a hostage rescue team."
"We'll start working out contingency plans immediately."
"All right then, I'll be in touch." With that, she left the office. A knot started to form in the pit of her stomach as she took off for the Mawalian border. Lois had tried to exhibit a confidence she definitely didn't feel. No matter what the circumstances on the ground were, this was an incredibly risky proposition.
********
She hovered over the border, far too high up to be seen from the ground by the naked eye. In the UNICEF camp on the Mawalian side, jeeps moved around the compound, and rebel soldiers stood guard over the many prisoners. Lois scanned the area, checking for the twentieth time to make sure that there were no other aid workers or children being held elsewhere around the camp.
"I can get you a British SAS team in sixteen hours," Dalton's voice came through her earpiece.
"That's too long," she replied grimly. "Some of those kids need medical attention and the rebels are keeping the hospital staff from treating them. Have the UN team on the ground ready to go in if I give the signal."
"What are you going to do?" Rapin asked.
She frowned and continued to study the scene below. This would work, she told herself. It has to work. "I should be able to disarm everyone with the hostages and secure the room before they have a chance to react, but I'm going to need the peacekeepers to help with the rebels in the rest of the camp."
"The government of Mawali has given you the green light," Rapin said in response. "And the peacekeepers' commander is awaiting your orders. Good luck."
"Thanks," she mumbled. This was the part of her job that really sucked. The part where she was supposed to know how to do everything. She had to tell everyone that everything was going to be all right, because she was there. She would fix the problem and save the day. And somehow, being supernaturally strong and having x-ray vision meant everyone expected she would know exactly what to do. She was supposed to be reassuring and soothing and infallible. She'd show up and everyone else would breathe easier because the superhero was there. Life and death became her responsibility and she'd take the weight of the world onto her shoulders.
She had a secret; invulnerability didn't make her omnipotent. It didn't stop her from making mistakes, from miscalculating, from missing some unseen or perhaps seemingly unimportant detail that would complicate matters immeasurably. But still, she was supposed to calm down everyone else and just do what needed to be done.
Lois had never realized just how much even she took Clark's abilities for granted. When she'd realized that her partner was Superman, she was finally able to see that even a superhero had doubts and insecurities. That when everyone else breathed easier because he'd arrived to make the rescue, that was the moment when his life became difficult. He'd show up and everyone, including her, was allowed to be small and scared and rest all of their hopes and fears on him. And as much as she'd tried to be there for him, in these moments, he was still alone. Now, she realized that.
Taking a deep breath, she scanned the camp one last time, memorizing the pattern and tempo of the guards' rounds, calculating the speed she'd need, considering the layout of the compound and the position of the hostages. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she took off. There was no time to hesitate. No time to second guess. She had one chance to disarm the hostage takers.
********
Talan hesitated before placing the call. It had been so long and he would never believe that she was simply calling casually to say hello. The communications screen flickered to life as he answered. He grinned at her; he was always quick to smile. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you," he said.
"I know it has been a while," she replied.
"It's been months, older sister," Serick chided. He was probably the only person on the planet who would ever think to chastise her.
"I am sorry," she said. "How is Ama?"
"She's well," he responded, still smiling. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair. As a child, he'd been just as towheaded as she was, but as he'd gotten older, his hair had darkened. "We're thinking of having another child. When the war's over, of course."
"Of course," she echoed. Even those who weren't called to fight seemed to have placed their lives on hold because of the war. "So how are the little ones?"
"They boys are fine," he assured her. "They're asleep, but I'll tell them that you called."
"It's late, isn't it? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called now."
"Don't be ridiculous," he replied. She arched a brow at her younger brother. "I'm just glad you called."
"I've been busy," she said somewhat defensively.
"They miss you," he said.
"I will call again, earlier next time," she promised.
"Are you still out hunting the enemy now that you're a general commander?"
"You know I cannot talk about my work," she replied, now taking on the chastising tone.
"I just hear the most incredible things about what my older sister is doing and have no way of figuring out what is fact and what is fiction."
"I'm sure the stories are exaggerated," she demurred.
"So then you didn't save the First Minister's life, then?"
"No, that one is true." She nodded begrudgingly.
"I wonder what makes a man leave the only world he's ever known to go to another planet and lead a people into war. What's he like?"
"He's the kindest and most decent person I've ever met," Talan said without hesitation.
Serick flashed her a knowing smile that lit up his soft, gray eyes. "I don't think I've ever seen you so impressed by anyone before."
"We are fortunate to have his help," she replied, her voice taking on a guarded tone.
"He does seem like a remarkable person," he agreed. "And how are you?"
"I'm fine," she replied.
"Just fine? Nothing else?"
"Yes, I'm fine," she reiterated.
"And there's nothing you wanted to talk about?" he pressed.
"You know I cannot tell you about what I'm doing."
"Then don't, but don't use that as an excuse. And don't tell me that you just decided to call, after months of silence, to talk about nothing at all and dodge questions."
How could she have forgotten that her younger brother was the only person on the planet who could infuriate her? "I don't know what to tell you," she said coolly.
"Tell me you feel the same things we do. Tell me you're nervous, tell me you're afraid or upset or worried. Dammit, Talan, tell me anything."
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, willing her pulse back into its calm, even tempo. "I made a terrible mistake. I put people in jeopardy. I nearly ruined an operation. I've never done that before. I don't make errors in judgment. I don't make mistakes and I certainly don't let my feelings interfere with my work. But I did. And I'm fortunate that no one died because of my mistakes. So I am upset. And I am afraid."
"I'm sorry," he said.
"So am I," she replied. "I don't know what to do."
He leaned forward, an earnest expression on his face that made him look even more like their father. "You'll keep trying. You're not the first person to make a mistake."
"It's not that simple," she replied. "When I make mistakes, people die. I let my judgment become clouded and it kept me from doing my job."
"What changed?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, perplexed.
"Well, something had to change to make you take this personally. What was it?"
"I can't say," she replied.
"Can't, or won't?" he challenged.
"What difference does that make?" she shot back.
"If you can be honest with yourself, none at all. But don't expect to be able to do your job with a clear head if you keep lying to yourself. You never tell me anything, but this was troubling you enough to make you call. If you can't even admit to yourself what's bothering you, how do you ever expect to get past it?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't even know what this is. It doesn't make sense, but whatever it is, I know that what I'm feeling is wrong."
"Is it wrong, or does it just make you uncomfortable?" he pressed.
"Serick, I want something I have no right to. I want to betray everything I believe in."
"We all want things we're not entitled to. I want to bring a child into this bleak, dangerous world. Surely that's not rational." He paused for a long moment. "You're a difficult person to know. I've been your brother for thirty years and I don't know what you want, what you hope for, what moves you."
"You know what I want."
"I know what you believe. And they're all very admirable ideals. But people fight for ideals. They die for ideals. They don't live for them. There will be life after this war."
"I know that," she replied, a hint of exasperation creeping into her tone.
"I don't think you do. Because you fight like the fight is all you have. Now that you want something, you have something to lose. Something you might be asked to sacrifice. And that scares you."
She opened her mouth to speak, but didn't know what to say. The first thing that came to mind was to deny emphatically everything he'd said. But where to start? With the fear? With the expectation of sacrifice? With the notion that she only now had something to lose? That was certainly the most ridiculous part. She had nothing now that she didn't have before. What she was afraid of losing were her beliefs, she knew that.
But why now? Why was she now contemplating the destruction of the only good and decent thing left in her? She sighed. "I have to go," she said awkwardly.
He nodded, his mouth set in a straight, thin line. "If you want to talk…"
"I know. And thank you."
"I know that you're New Krypton's great hero, a commander of armies, and a force of nature," he said in a gently teasing tone. "But be careful."
"I will," she promised.
