Title: Alas, My Love
Author: Ashley, Boonadducious, whatever you want to call me.
Disclaimers: I don't even own a car, how can I possibly own these characters?
Rating: PG-13 to R
Spoilers: None that I know of. Reckoning perhaps.
A/N: As I said in the title, this is a sequel to Betrayal. I really suggest reading that before reading this. That story had some religious subtext, and this story is going to have a whole lot more. A while ago, I pretty much took it upon myself to create a sort of mythology from the world of angels and demons from a Christian perspective. I'm pretty sure that most of it is not really out there, but I think that it is very interesting to speculate before we know for sure. I'm using my mythology in a series of books I'm starting to write, and I figured that a Betrayal sequel would be the perfect place to try it out in a public domain. I just wanted to warn you guys that at times it might get pretty intense. So yah, that's my two cents. Enjoy!
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"Try to exclude the possibility of suffering which the order of nature and the existence of free-wills involve, and you find that you have excluded life itself."
--C.S. Lewis in The Problem of Pain
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Prologue
Clark never usually felt the cold from the Fortress of Solitude, but in this seemingly endless night, his invulnerability might as well have been non-existent. He simply stood there still as a statue with an unkept sport coat on and a small Kryptonian crystal in his numb hands. Tears were beginning to trickle down his cheeks as he stared at the silver floor in disbelief about what was happening. He had failed. Why did he fail? After all that he had been through with this man, why was he gone?
"Kal-el?" Clark's biological father bellowed, shaking the crystal structure.
"There has to be a way you can save him!" Clark shouted, shifting his gaze to the ceiling. "You saved Lana! How can you…"
"Kal-el!" Jor-el shouted, almost overwhelming Clark's ears. "You made a choice to save the human girl you loved, and I allowed you. However, that did not mean the deal was forgotten. Besides, if you had distanced yourself from this race in the first place and realized their inferiority, the girl would have meant nothing to you and Jonathan Kent would still be alive."
Clark was beginning to show his growing anger through his tensing muscles and grinding teeth. How dare Jor-el blame him for this? It was him who insisted on taking the life of someone he loved. It was him who drove him into the arms of humans in the first place. If he had been more of a father, then Kryptonians might have been more appealing.
"Kal-el," Jor-el boomed in a lighter tone.
"My name is Clark!" he shouted in a cracked voice.
Ignoring his outburst, Jor-el used a slightly frightened voice to say, "Where did that woman come from? I did not see you bring her here."
Confused, Clark turned his head toward the icy bed on which his comatose father was placed. Over him, there was a woman dressed in white with her eyes fixed upon the unmoving farmer. She had curly brown hair draped around her shoulders and icy blue eyes that could send chills through your body when looking upon them. Clark knew this because he had looked into those eyes before.
"Aelora?" Clark whispered, his jaw trembling. He had no idea what he was feeling at the moment he saw her. He had not seen this woman's face in more than a year, and part of him was happy about that. Her face was the one he saw during most of his imprisonment inside a cult's dungeon enduring torture from a brainwashed congregation. It was also the face that Clark remembered when he recalled seeing his first angel.
It was the very fact that he gazed upon her face that opened the door to all of the otherworldly things he had seen in the past year and a half. Every time he faced a meteor freak or any dark person, Lex for one, he could see dark shadows creeping behind them. Those same shadows appeared when Chloe used immoral methods at her new job at the Daily Planet and when he saw anyone making leering eyes at others. Even though there were occasions when he saw light emanating off people, the shadows seemed to rule, particularly in Smallville.
The thing that frustrated Clark the most was that he didn't know how to fight them. When he saw evil, he needed to confront it. That was his nature. However, this new gift was like the carrot that dangles in front of you that you can never reach. It was like emotional torture. It didn't really affect his daily life, but seeing new shadows in his cursed town always brought the feelings of frustration back. Seeing this beautiful angel now had the same effect.
Clark used his shaky legs to come nearer to where his lifeless father lay in order to confront his old friend. He found it odd that even though he had spent a very long time in her presence before, he still had a sense of awe when approaching her. In the year and a half since the horrible ordeal that led him to this being, he figured even a small piece of holiness was enough to make any human shiver, mostly because it was the opposite of what they were usually exposed to.
"He says he doesn't want you to be sad," Aelora cooed when Clark was a few feet away from the crystal slab. In response to her words, Clark's eyes shot up to meet her baby blues and his breath began to speed up.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Nice to see you again, too, Clark," Aelora said sarcastically.
"I wish it was under different circumstances," the boy sighed, his breath wavering.
"I know, and I'm sure that you don't want to hear this, but this was the plan, and that means it is for the best."
"But Aelora," Clark cried, his tear ducts about to burst. "Me and my dad just started to get a normal relationship again. And…and what about my little sister! She's only one year old! Why should she have to grow up without a father!"
"Anna Joy will be fine, Clark," Aelora sighed, frustrated by the boy's distrust. "She has you."
"But I'm not her dad. I'm just her brother. I mean, I'm sure that my mom is strong enough to take her on, but what if I'm not strong enough to be a father-figure on top of everything else?"
"Look, if I were in your position I would probably say the same thing, but you have to trust me. It was your father's time to go."
"No it wasn't! I still need him!" Clark shouted before running over to his father's lifeless form and throwing his arms around it before unleashing many long-repressed sobs.
Clark was surprised when Aelora met his outburst with silence, but he would not have cared anyway. He was too busy going through deep mourning to care what his former friend had to say.
"Clark," Aelora said with putting her warm hand on his shaking back. "Your father says that he has enough trouble breathing without you squeezing his trachea."
As if robotically, Clark's head rose and his sobbing ceased. His wet eyes met Aelora's before he also looked down at Jonathan's dead expression.
"Clark, the trachea."
Immediately, Clark released his vice-grip on the farmer's torso in order to allow him to breathe.
"How do you do that?"
"I can speak to his spirit, even when his physical body is too weak to do anything. Of course, you already knew that. You just hate being speechless."
"Who are you now, Sigmund Freud?"
Aelora laughed, even though Clark clearly didn't find it funny. "You got it from your dad," she said. "It's not a bad trait."
The angel was satisfied when she finally got a smile out of the boy, not caring if it was small.
"So," Clark sighed. "Can he hear me?"
"Of course he can. He has a few minutes left, so I'll allow you to say goodbye. But after that, I have to take him."
Clark was quite relieved that his father was not completely gone yet. However, it was bitter sweet since these moments would be the very last. What would he say? How would he act? What if he said the wrong thing?
"You look a little better now, Clark," Aelora said happily. "Jonathan was upset by how hysterical you were. He wanted you to be okay."
The boy nodded before wiping away a few stray tears from his eyes. He then sniffed and sighed before slipping his hand underneath that of his father.
"It's cold," Clark said in monotone.
"Well, we are in the North Pole," Aelora laughed. After a stare from Clark she said, "His words, not mine."
"Yeah, that sounds like dad." The boy paused before saying, "Does he know that I love him?"
"More than you will ever know."
Clark's smile grew before he said, "Does he know I'm sorry for causing this?"
"Okay, he wants me to say this loudly. You. Did. Not. Cause. This. It wasn't your fault that you got shot and it wasn't your fault that Jor-el's AI used demonic influences to manipulate the Plan to his advantage…that's just between you and me by the way."
"A-alright," Clark said, overwhelmed. "But it was my fault that I lost my powers, and…"
"Oh, you're absolutely right, Clark. It's all your fault."
"H-huh?"
"Yeah. I mean, Jor-el did give you a detailed list of consequences of what would happen if you didn't return to this icebox. Also, you did get a nice little slideshow of exactly what would happen if…"
"Alright! Alright!" Clark shouted while throwing his hands up in the air. "I get it. There was no way I could have known. But I still feel responsible. I just want to know that he forgives me."
"Oh, I didn't even need to ask him to tell you that, even though there is really no forgiveness needed."
Clark smiled once again before sighing as a small twinge of peace began to enter his heart. He figured that Aelora's little logic lesson shook him up a little bit to be able to accept it. Even though protest seemed to be a theme of this visit to the Fortress, and though that statement didn't differ from the others, there was still something in it that let Clark know he and his father were ready to part ways. He knew that he would never feel ready, but for that brief moment, his spirit told him otherwise.
"Thanks Dad," the boy whispered. "For everything."
"He says…he says you're very welcome…but he has one important thing to say to you."
"Really? What is it?"
"He says…" Aelora's expression suddenly changed as she began to process what the farmer's spirit told her.
"Aelora?" Clark asked while becoming slightly concerned.
"B-beware the bull."
"Beware the what?"
"That's what he said," Aelora said, confused.
"Well, what does that mean? I don't think he ever mentioned anything like that to me."
"I don't think so either, Clark. I have a feeling your dad might have gotten a little prophetic word."
"Prophetic word? You mean my dad's a prophet? That's not possible. I've read about prophets. They…"
"I know, Clark, and you're right," the angel said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "He's not a prophet, at least not officially. Small prophetic words often come to people close to death. However, I'm a little fuzzy as to what this particular one means."
"A little fuzzy?" Clark asked. "Does that mean you at least have a small idea about what he's talking about?"
"Yeah," Aelora said with a concerned look on her face. "But what I think it means doesn't make much sense. I mean, at least I hope it doesn't."
"Why?" Clark uttered gravely.
"Well, maybe it has something to do with Lex Luthor, or…"
"I'm already wary of him," Clark interrupted, a little detached. "I doubt my dad would warn me about something I'm already doing."
"Okay, but you have to…"
"Just stop," the exhausted Clark said while holding up his hand. "It's been a long night. I really don't want to deal with spiritual stuff right now. I'll know what he's talking about eventually. Right now, I just want to spend these next few minutes with my dad without worrying about all of this."
"I…I understand," Aelora said softly, although concerned about her friend's quick change in attitude. "However, I hope that you don't forget about this for long. You have a gift, and you have a responsibility to…"
"Aelora," the boy said, firmer this time. "Can I just spend this time with my dad before he's gone completely?"
The angel slowly hung her head before nodding and stepping backwards and letting the boy kneel at his father's deathbed. She may have been hurt by the dismissal, but she wasn't worried. The angel knew that this complacency was only a front. Clark knew what his responsibility was. Even if the specifics of his destiny were still a blur, he knew what was meant for him, and it was certainly more than the normal human experience.
As Aelora prepared to return home with Jonathan Kent's spirit in tow, she began to feel the dark presence in the room, and how frightened it was. She figured it was mostly coming from the evil legion that resided inside the Fortress' artificial intelligence, thought she could tell many others followed the boy into his icy retreat. The angel knew that this moment would begin this boy's path to become the hero he was destined to be. That would not only mean a stronger resolve from him as soon as mourning was over, but also a greater attack from the enemy as the years went by. They had failed once, but being the foolish scabs they were, they would continue trying like they had a chance of winning. Even though the outcome would be worth the struggle, it was the road leading to it that made her scared for the boy her Father loved so much.
"Be careful, Beloved," the angel whispered, even though the message rang loud and clear in the receiver's ears.
"I will," Clark whispered back, right before laying his forehead on the stomach of his departing father. "So help me God."
