Author note: Well, all-here's the next part. Apparently, I never posted this here...so very sorry. I skipped Chloe actually telling Clark about Lois but will address that convo later. I have a certain way this is going in my head and really, really hope I'm conveying it clearly. Would LOVE to hear what you think and thank you again for your amazing support and feedback!
Chapter 14
The stage had been set.
The trap had been laid.
The curtain had been raised.
One actor, disguised in the simple white frock opened the scene, leading the hero onto the stage. To the cold, metal table. To the sheet covered figure at the center of the plot .
She removed the sheet, introducing a new character.
Then she watched him. Furtively, from under lowered lids, she gauged the level of his distress. She was not pleased. Then again, she was not the average observer. And she had faced him before.
The cousin had been an easy target. But this one…
She knew the strength of his resolve when he believed himself to be right. She had felt his intense connection with another. Felt it even now as he stared at the lifeless form. It was a connection that was both instinctive and protective. He would not reveal before a stranger what he himself was loathed to admit.
Sensing his need for solitude before that tried and true resolve would crumble, she murmured a few consoling words then exited stage left…
…to join an invisible audience…
…to watch…
…to listen…
…and to wait.
The smell of death was all around him.
In the air. In his clothes. On his breath.
He couldn't escape it. Not now. Not ever.
An isolated figure in the center of the stark, sterile room with a light above him so bright it hurt his eyes, the darkness that had been nipping at his heels for the past two months, took him over.
Finally. Completely.
In his entire life, he had never been more shattered. More lost. More alone.
Even if...
...someone was watching him.
Which was impossible.
The room he was in had one entrance and no windows. No cameras were visible to the naked or x-raying eye. Of that, he'd made sure. And the coroner's assistant had blissfully left him in a solitary state.
Alone.
But he could feel it nonetheless. The weight of their stares. The prickles at the back of his neck. The sharp nails of malicious observation ripping into his back. Alerting him to danger. To countless smirks. To their utter delight at his ultimate loss.
Who it was and for what reason, he didn't know.
He didn't care.
How could he when he was...
Numb.
He had seen her body. Was seeing it now.
Cold. Stiff. Pale.
Dead.
Just as dead as he'd declared himself to be. But even his declaration hadn't conjured this up. From the inside out, the outside in. From head to toe, fingers to heart.
Clark Kent's life was slipping away from him.
The endless silence crawled over his skin like a disease. Agony ripped through him with excruciatingly slow precision. Slashing everything he'd been holding on to. Drawing blood. The taut tightrope he'd been carefully balancing, was shaking and quivering. Breaking, cord by fragile cord. A black hole of despair opened up beneath him, threatening to swallow him whole.
He resisted the temptation to give in if only for one more moment.
One more touch.
On auto pilot, he reached out and gathered one lifeless hand in his. His other lightly ran through the long hair, down the bloodless cheek, to brush across the blue, unmoving lips.
Unmoving lips.
Bone-dry eyes bubbled with tears.
That Lois Lane would never speak again. That her incessant chatter would no longer echo through the holes of his existence. That her smile would never again fill him up and take him over…
It was unthinkable.
And yet, the proof was before his eyes.
It…can't be. Can it? She's in the future. She's…unreachable, but still alive.
But what if she wasn't? What if the Legion had sent her back? Sent her back to a place, a time, a situation that was untenable? That she couldn't escape. Where he hadn't been. Where he hadn't saved her.
The one thought he'd consistently rejected for two months sprang unbidden to his mind.
What if she's really gone? Gone forever? How will I possibly…survive?
His chin trembled like a child's. His lips quivered with words he'd never say. His sighs were rippling waves of anguish and grief.
In every moment of the past two months, there had been two truths that had kept him going. Two undeniable facts that had been the very underpinnings of his unwavering belief.
Lois Lane would not leave him. Not willingly. And not without notification. She was too direct, too honest and brave to slink away in the middle of the night. Even if she felt things between them were too rocky or uncertain to address, she was still there. By his side. As his partner, his friend.
Beyond that, they were connected. In ways he'd never been connected to anyone before. Instinctively. Intensely. Irreversibly. It was like there was an invisible, yet tangible thread between them, binding heart to heart, soul to soul, life to life.
How and when this all became a part of him, he didn't know. But it was real. As real as Lois Lane. As real as Lois and Clark…together.
As long as he was still breathing, she was alive. As long as she was alive…he was still breathing.
Then he saw her pale face.
And the air was sucked out of his reality.
He felt his will begin to bend. His hope begin to crack and crumble and fall into a pile of dust at his feet. That unshakable belief that his life was connected to hers, that they moved through the universe as one, went up in flames.
And the eyes laughed at him. Raucous, taunting laughter. Mocking his belief. Deriding the depths of his longing. His excruciating pain.
They could go on laughing for all he cared. It was part of him now. The sorrow, the grief. The inconsolable ache in the center of his being. Nothing and no one would ever fill it. Nothing and no one would ever take it away.
The stench burned his nostrils. His gut wrenched. Bile rose and stuck in his throat.
He wanted to flee, but his muscles wouldn't respond to the desperate need. He wanted to crawl into her and let his life ebb away to her peaceful shore. Wanted to melt away into nothing, to not feel thisunbearable, sickening…nothingness.
But Destiny demanded his presence.
And something deep inside of him bowed to its command.
Despite it all, he was still there. Solid. Unmoving. Alive.
Impossible. That I still feel..that my heart still beats...without her...that I'm even standing...
He pulled his gaze away, needing to look at something...anything...
And instantly regretted it.
Anything, but that.
His reflection in the dark mirror.
Alarmingly pallid. Glaringly vacant. Tortured. Distorted and unrecognizable. He looked every bit the hollow man that he'd become. Cruel, hard lines of agony cut into his expression like invisible scars. His eyes were empty, dull…haunted. His stance austere and imposing. Suddenly, and all too clear, a vision formed through the haze of grief. A vision of his future…
Without Lois.
He quickly looked away, unable to bear it.
And the self-loathing set in. The guilt. The dark thoughts of destruction.
"How can I even exist?" Here on this planet, in this life…
Hang on, Smallville.
"Still breathe…"
Don't give up on me.
"Why haven't I disappeared…"
Not when we're so close.
Her voice rippled through his mind and weaved itself in and out, out and in, through the holes of his heart. Through the tears in his soul.
Something wasn't right. Something didn't fit. If she was dead, he wouldn't be able to hear her. If she was dead, he would know. If she was dead, he would be with her.
Because if she was dead...I would be too.
As realization slammed into him with a force that nearly dropped him to his knees, his gaze eagerly flickered back to the woman's face. And narrowed. Looking for a sign, for a signal, a discrepancy. For something that would indicate the absurdity of his thoughts were anything but borderline insane.
No reassurance came.
But the ironies of life did.
To gain, you have to give. To win, you have to lose. To live…
…you have to die.
He felt the unseen eyes narrow in anticipation. Heard their inaudible intake of breath.
The endless silence crawled over his skin like a disease. Agony ripped through him with excruciatingly slow precision. Slashing everything he'd been holding on to. Drawing blood. The taut tightrope he'd been carefully balancing, was shaking and quivering. Breaking, cord by fragile cord. A black hole of despair opened up beneath him, threatening to swallow him whole.
His jaw set. His eyes blazed. His heart thundered with renewed purpose.
Then Clark Kent surrendered to the inevitable...
And embraced the dark path that spread out before him like a newly strung tightrrope high above a deadly abyss. He leaned in, his lips hovering gingerly over the deafened shell, whispering a promise as sacred as his own grave.
"Soon, Lois, soon. I promise. One way or another…we will be together…"
The stage had been set.
The trap had been laid.
The hero had played his part.
Three pairs of eyes turned her way. Two, openly mocking. A third, cold, hard and full of questions.
"He did not break." Zod's commanding voice was steady, but displeased.
"She is not dead." Maxima responded simply, confidently.
Zod's gaze shifted to the ethereal screen, hazy with mist, now void of any action. Only one lifeless form on a cold, metal table remained. "He has proof now that she is."
"Yes." Maxima's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "But what is false proof against true love?"
"That makes absolutely no sense." Tess rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "In fact, none of this has made sense." She leaned forward, an accusatory finger pointed in Maxima's direction. "You said if we presented Lois Lane's body it would prove your point. That Clark Kent would crumble into nothing. So we did, and...and it barely phased him!"
"Oh, it did more than phase him." Maxima maintained the cool reserve of a skilled manipulator. "Even I felt the impact."
"Yes." Lex chimed in, his eyes light with sudden understanding and disbelief. "Yes, he was affected. Perhaps more than I've ever seen him."
Taking in Lex's affirmation and tilting his head to the side in contemplation, Zod's eyes narrowed in uncertainty. "Still, it did not destroy him as you promised."
"It was not her body, dear Zod." Maxima cooed as she reached over and lightly touched his hand. "A fact, that only one as connected to her as Kal-el is...would ever know."
"A connection we can now use." Lex commented softly. "Once we find the real Lois Lane."
A slow, understanding smile spread over tight, cruel lips. With one silent nod of permission, the makings of a new play had begun.
Tbc...