bTitle/b Nike Eterna
bRating/b M
bDisclaimer/b Still own nothing. Just borrowing. Same old, same old.
bcenterChapter One: Concrete Angel/b/center
The ancient Greeks idolized flight. They used it as a means of teaching lessons and as a way to elevate their deities. By the classical era most of the residents of Mount Olympus had lost their wings. All but Nike. Victoria in Roman mythology, Nike was the goddess of victory. Often pictured as a divine charioteer, Nike kept her place among the birds of the air. As time passed and people converted to other religions, Nike was left as an idol of a by gone era. Her statue stands as a reminder that man once longed for the skies. Not to conquer, but to roam. They built airplanes and hot air balloons in an attempt to achieve this dream, but as of yet no man could truly fly. Until a single meteor shower gave birth to a girl that could.
Lana Lang's earliest memory was slightly fuzzy around the edges. She couldn't have been older than two when she crawled into her father's lap and asked a child's favorite question: Why? Lewis Lang was a wise man, none could doubt that, but even he was at a lose as to what was confusing his angel now. So he began answering all the whys in the world in the most simple manner possible. The sky was blue because God made it that way. Horses ate hay because they didn't like applesauce. Lana was named Lana because her name meant light and she was the light of their lives. Midway through an explanation for dolphins, Lana pointed out the window and repeated her query, "Why?" There on a tree branch sat a robin singing a song to greet the spring. Suddenly Lewis understood. "Birds fly because they have wings." Lana jabbed a pudgy index finger at herself. "Why?" "You don't have wings," Lewis told her, "because you are a Lana and not a bird." Satisfied, Lana padded away to play with her dolls, quite certain that her father knew everything there was to know in the universe.
Now as she knelt in the cool grass before her parents' grave, Lana recalled this scene. Her ebony hair fell in a straight waterfall over her shoulders. The moonlight reflected off the feather projections originating from her shoulder blades. Wings. At the moment they were folded as neatly as a child's hands in prayer. When she stood they stretched three feet in either direction. A hellish gift granted to her the day her parents died.
"I love you too, Daddy," she spoke to an invisible specter. "Tell Mommy thank you for the rain yesterday. I'm sure she had something to do with it." A sad smile crossed her face as she rose to her feet. She reached out and picked up her sketch book and the juice box she'd drank earlier that afternoon. It was her custom to spend the last full day of summer here with her parents. Somehow it gave her strength to face the coming school year.
Lana turned around and pulled her t-shirt back on, lifted her hair out of her collar. Her wings obediently folded against the skin of her back. For added protection against prying eyes Lana tugged on a jean jacket. The soles of her tennis shoes were muddy thanks to the sprinkler system's summer schedule. She slung her messenger bag over her right shoulder, tucked the sketch book inside and headed home.
Lana had lived next door to the Kents for as long as she could remember. The house had belonged to her maternal grandparents before her mother inherited it. Ownership had passed to her current guardian, Aunt Nell, when her parents were killed in the meteor shower. There was a barn out back, empty now that Lana's horse had died. She had spent many a summer's eve like this sitting in the porch swing attempting to capture the sunset with her charcoals. As the evening faded she curled up there now and set her gaze on the barn next door.
The light in the loft revealed Clark Kent's presence. She imagined him relaxed on the faded leather couch, a book in his lap, his hair slightly rumpled from multiple run throughs with his fingers. Then she laughed at herself for having such a stalker mindset. It wasn't her fault, she rationalized as she unfolded the blanket sitting on the end of the swing, how could a girl like her ever have a relationship with a guy like him? Clark was a god among ants. Captain of the football team, dating the head cheerleader. And Lana? She was a freak with anatomical extras borrowed from Pegasus.
The sun sank below the horizon as Lana lay on her side covered by the faded afghan. Her hazel eyes closed slowly. Across the way Clark Kent clicked off his light and returned to his bedroom. A dream overtook Lana and for a few short hours she was just like everyone else, sleeping away her last night of freedom. The only difference was that Lana's dreams were not filled with the extraordinary, but with the mundane. A place on the cheer squad, a boyfriend, becoming Prom queen. Everything girls did when they weren't cursed with wings.
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The first Monday in September dawned bright and sunny. The exact opposite of Lana's current disposition. She'd finally opened her letter from Smallville High to discover that she'd been placed in advanced creative writing instead of portraiture. Add in the fact that she was taking gym first semester and Lana's senior year was not shaping up well.
She rolled out of bed at a quarter past six. Quite literally. Lying on her back on the carpet in a tangle of sheets Lana wondered what the point was. Another year of pretending to be one thing when she was really another thing entirely. Nine months spent walking down the halls, an entourage of whispers dancing in her wake. Seven hours a day watching Alicia Baker hang off Clark like a rotten apple clinging to the branch, poisoning the tree.
"Lana? Are you up?" Aunt Nell's voice carried up from the kitchen.
"Yeah," Lana called back. "I guess I am," she muttered to herself. Rolling over, Lana pushed herself to her feet and wandered off to take a shower. The scalding water helped lift her spirits, but she still felt rather gloomy about the whole senior year affair. As she stood in front of her blow dryer's stand, drying both her wings and her hair, Lana tried to find a silver lining. There was only one face that came to mind.
Clark.
She knew it didn't make any difference. Clark would never notice her. But she still put a good deal of thought into her outfit that morning. Finally settling on a long sleeved, pale yellow shirt topped with a rainbow tank over jeans, Lana dressed as quickly as possible with her still damp wings and set off for the kitchen.
Aunt Nell didn't look up from that morning's edition of the Daily Planet. She merely pointed a finger at the plate full of pancakes in front of Lana's chair. Lana dropped into her customary seat and reached to the middle of the table for the strawberry syrup. Nell finished reading her favorite column before setting the paper aside. Lana took a bite of her sugar drenched breakfast as her aunt moved around the table to braid Lana's hair. She could have done it herself, but she knew that it made Nell happy when she could help, so she let it be.
"Stand," Nell ordered suddenly.
Lana got out of her chair without a word. This part of the morning was as familiar to her as her own reflection. She kept her back to Nell as her guardian studied her back. Satisfied that Lana's wings wouldn't show, Nell let her sit again and started on her hair. Lana's wings behaved like a paper fan most days, folding into thin lines on her back. Proof that some cosmic force was looking out for her.
They didn't talk as Nell pulled Lana's hair back into two neat braids. They hadn't had a real conversation in three years. Not since Lana had learned of the one night her aunt had spent with Johnathan Kent when she was five. Adultery was unforgivable in Lana's mind, especially when it involved a couple like Martha and Johnathan Kent. So she refused to speak to Nell unless absolutely necessary. Silence permeated the house like smoke, choking what little bond they had left.
Seven forty five rolled around and Lana headed out the door. Messenger bag over one shoulder, gym shorts in her arms. The drive to Smallville High was relatively short with next to no traffic. As she pulled into a spot outside the school Lana prayed that this year would be better than the last.
Clark Kent was leaning against a locker three down from Lana's when she stopped to put away her gym shoes. They'd been in such proximity to each other for three years now and Clark had yet to notice her. All of his attention was focused on Alicia, a peppy blond whose entire goal in life was to ensure that the whole world knew Clark belonged to her. At the moment she was twirling a piece of hair around her index finger and giggling at some witty remark from Clark. Lana averted her gaze and shut her locker door. The cruelty of the fates was unbearable sometimes.
Lana's morning went rather smoothly all things considered. Anatomy and Physiology was intriguing and Calculus was a bore. She spent third period in the library coloring in a sketch of a kitten mid-pounce. When lunch arrived Lana ate in the nurse's office. It made sense as she would just have to come back and change for Gym anyway. Aunt Nell had convinced the nurse that Lana was painfully shy and might pass out if forced to undress in front of other girls. So she swapped out her street clothes for the Phys. Ed variety in the nurse's bathroom before going to play volleyball.
Advanced Creative Writing directly followed Gym. Lana ended up arriving late because she had to wait for the rest of the girls to leave before she could shower. Mrs. Bartholomew barely glanced up when Lana slipped into an empty seat.
"Miss Lang, I presume?"
"Yes."
"You missed picking partners for your first writing assignment this semester. Luckily for you another student was absent as well and I've paired you up. You will be working with," she flipped through her notes, "a Mister Clark Kent."
Lana could feel the ground dropping out beneath her. She was about to ask the teacher if there'd been a mistake when the bell rang. Lana filed out of the room after everyone else in a daze.
If asked what she'd studied in her remaining four classes, Lana wouldn't have been able to answer. All she could think about was the fact that she was supposed to be working with Clark. The very thought made her nauseated with nerves. Sometime in the middle of American Government Lana realized that Clark had never shown up to class. She would have to inform him of their newfound partnership.
Clark was predictably talking with Alicia when Lana found him after school. Trembling slightly, she cleared her throat and began to speak.
"Clark? Um, I'm supposed to tell you that..." She trailed off as she realized he was listening. She tugged on his jacket with a shaking hand.
Clark turned and focused his incredible hazel eyes on her. He looked surprised to see her. Rightfully so as they hadn't had any contact with each other since kindergarten. She gulped for air and began again.
"We'resupposedtobepartnersincreativewriting." It came out in an unintended rush. Clark seemed to have understood as he said cool and asked when she wanted to meet. They agreed on the Talon after school the next day and Lana walked hurriedly away before she could humiliate herself further.
She had calmed down some by the time she got home and decided to go for a jog. Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt she took off in the direction of Lobe Bridge. The air was warm and there was a breeze. With every pounding step Lana sweated off the worries of the day. She was at the edge of the bridge when it happened.
Clark was leaning on the guard rail, his arms crossed, his mind apparently wandering when a car swerved toward him. Without thinking twice Lana ripped off her t-shirt and soared above him, picking him up out of harm's way. Clark hit his head in the process and fell into a convenient state of unconsciousness. She flew toward the Kent house. Clark was heavy, but she managed to keep a hold of him. She gently deposited him on the front porch and rang the bell. Martha Kent came to the door faster than Lana had expected and she had to make a hasty retreat. Her right wing caught on the gutter and pain shot up her body as she flew away.
Lana always left her window open, just in case. And she now landed on her bed. Blood was pouring from her tattered feathers. Like any other winged creature Lana had nerves in her wings. Blood vessels were an polynomially, but then again so was a girl capable of flight. She was always careful of her wings because when they bled it was a flood.
For the next hour Lana stood in her bathroom trying to staunch the flow. Toilet paper did nothing to absorb the liquid. She knew she would need something heavier. A saddle blanket maybe. Too bad her horse was gone and his equipment with it. Then it hit her. The Kents. They had horses and logic would imply that they had saddle blankets too.
The trip to the Kent barn was painful. Her wing was still spurting making flight impossible. Instead she entered through the barn doors and picked up a saddle blanket. Holding it to her wing she waited for the blood to clot. Without thinking she wandered up into the loft. Into Clark's private domain.
It was clearly home to a teenager boy. Textbooks and class notes were scattered across the wooden floor. A baseball sat on the couch. Strangely the place was void of any pictures of Alicia. Lana sat on the couch and resisted the urge to read through his notebooks.
The sudden sound of footsteps below alerted Lana to human presence. Knowing she had to get out of there fast, Lana grabbed the blanket and flew out the window. It hurt like hell, but at least she hadn't been caught. Safe in her own bedroom Lana bandaged her wing as best she could and went to bed.
Clark flipped on the light in the loft and looked around. He could have sworn that he'd heard someone up here, but there was no one to be found. Nothing appeared to be out of place. Slowly he sank into the couch, holding an ice pack to his head. His parents didn't believe him when he said something had picked him up on the bridge today. Even in Smallville that was far fetched. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something had tried to save his life. Not that they needed to. Being from another planet had its advantages, immortality being one of them.
Clark set his hand down and it came into contact with something soft. He picked it up and studied it. It was a bloodstained white feather. Left behind by a wounded angel in flight.