"You don't have any proof, Bruce! You can't just charge into Lionel's office and accuse him of harvesting Clark's blood," Oliver said. He and the others were on screen in the bat cave watching through the video link as Bruce's anger took a physical outlet when the man picked up his cowl and hurled it across the space. Diana arched an eyebrow when they heard it smash against a rock in the darkness off screen.
"That man deserves to be behind bars; someone must have covered his tracks. The things he did are unacceptable! What's stopping him from doing worse?"
"We are," Clark spoke up from Oliver's left.
"You planning to stare him into submission, Kent? Turn those cold blue eyes on him and wait for him to cower before you? He knows who you are! He knows how to hurt you! And the rest of you are telling me we're just going to sit back and watch him go free."
Clark disappeared from the monitor and reappeared at Bruce's side soon after. "Bruce," he said, reaching out to try and touch the man's arm. Bruce grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand away.
"Don't touch me." He stormed away, climbed into the elevator and slammed the gate shut, leaving Clark and the others to stare in awkward silence.
"Well," Bart said. "I guess we know where he stands on the subject." Clark turned to stare at the screen. "What? Just pointing out facts, Stretch. So what's our next move?"
Clark caught sight of Alfred picking up the pieces of Bruce's cowl. He hadn't realized the man was even there. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, stepping over to shut down the video link and turn off the monitors.
He walked over to Alfred and bent to help clean up the mess. "Got any insight you'd be willing to share?" he asked.
Alfred glanced up at him before looking back at what he was doing. "What you must understand, Master Clark, is that Master Bruce is and always will be looking for the one that got away."
Clark straightened. "What do you mean?"
"His parents' murderer was never caught. When people like Lionel Luthor get away, it might as well be akin to reliving their death and the following injustice all over again. Especially when someone he cares for is hurt in the process. Directly or indirectly." Alfred moved to throw the broken shards away. "It was good to see you again, Master Clark."
Clark stared after him as he walked away, effectively ending their conversation. Alone again, he shook his head as if to clear it. "Cares for," he muttered. "Not what I'd call it." He was on his way back to Metropolis a few seconds later.
o o o o o
Lionel wasn't backing down. Signing over a portion of his LuthorCorp shares had not been an admission of weakness. It had been a power play. Reducing his involvement in the company would cover his sudden increased activities regarding another project, one that had been on the backburner since the unfortunate outcome of the Emily Dinsmore experiments.
He stood in the empty space that would soon become the new laboratory space for Rainer Labs; under a different name, of course, and the connection to him buried so deep in paperwork it would take even Lex years to follow the trail back to its source. In his pocket, his cell phone began to ring.
"Luthor," he said shortly. Listening for a few moments as he glanced around the large, sterile, white-walled room, Lionel let a slow smirk form across his lips. "I expect the project to be underway within 72 hours. As soon as the equipment is installed, your team will be able to commence work. You'll find the necessary samples waiting for you on your arrival." He disconnected the call and walked out of the room, up the two flights of curved, metal stairs, and back to his waiting vehicle.
Lex may have thought he'd won, but in time he would show him that no one – not even his own flesh and blood – could cross Lionel Luthor without repercussion. He would not attack Lex directly. Victory would be far sweeter when he destroyed what Lex truly loved; not his wife, though he was sure his son did care deeply for her. No, Clark Kent would be the eventual target of this operation.
o o o o o
"Hey, Lex." Clark stood a few feet inside the doors to his office, the dim light casting a bluish tint on his skin. He moved almost hesitantly across the carpeted space spanning the feet between him and Lex, who was seated behind his desk going over a stack of papers.
"Clark, I have to say I wasn't expecting to see you here any time soon." Lex set his work down and stood, walking to meet Clark halfway.
"I need to talk to you. About your father."
Lex pursed his lips unconsciously and gestured for Clark to sit down. He moved to sit opposite him. "What about him?"
"I trust you. Do you know that? When people tell me I'm a fool for doing it, I still trust you." He fell silent, looking down at his hands. Lex waited for him to continue in his own time. Clark rubbed his hands nervously against his jeans and looked back up at Lex. "Did you have anything to do with Lionel being cleared in the human testing case?"
"No." Lex replied without hesitation, and it shocked even him the ease with which the falsehood slipped from his lips. "I didn't tell you about knowing he orchestrated your capture because I was trying to protect you, Clark, but letting my father walk away scott free is not part of that attempt." Clark watched him without a word as if waiting for Lex to say something more, to give away the truth in a movement, a blink of the eye, something. Finally he nodded and stood. Lex followed suit.
"Lex, I..." Clark stopped, not sure what to say. Lex nodded and didn't say anything as Clark walked out the door.
When the doors had closed behind his friend, Lex moved to the window and looked down on streets still full of people even though the hour was late. He rested his head against the cool glass and sighed.
"I'm sorry, Clark."
o o o o o
Four weeks after Clark walked out of Lex's office, winter was wreaking havoc on Kansas. Smallville was in the midst of a December snow storm worse than any it had seen in a decade. Clark was at the farm with his mother, Chloe, Lois, Oliver and Jimmy. Dinner had just been put on the table when Clark and Oliver's cell phones began to ring almost simultaneously.
"Clark Kent, dinner is already on the table," his mother said.
Clark glanced at the display, at Oliver, then back at his mother. "I'm sorry, but I have to take this." Oliver slipped away while he spoke, murmuring his own apologies. Understanding filled Martha's expression and she nodded, shooing him away. Chloe's cell phone started beeping with a text message as Clark disappeared upstairs. Watchtower needed, was all it said.
At Martha's raised eyebrows, Chloe smiled apologetically. "A story doesn't wait for the weather to clear up or dinner to be finished. I'm sorry, Mrs. Kent, but I have to go."
"Is everything alright?" Jimmy asked.
She leaned down to kiss his cheek. "Everything's fine, but I've got a contact who wants to talk now of all times. I've been trying to get him to open up for a while. This could be what I've been waiting for."
Lois waved a hand at her. "Go, but drive safely. It's cold out and the roads are awful, so take blankets and food in case you go off the road and have to wait for a tow."
Chloe grinned. "Thanks for the words of wisdom, Lo." She was heading through to the front hall a few seconds, meeting up with Oliver as he stepped out of the little-used room opposite the living room, and Clark as he came down the front stairs.
"Meteor infected," Clark said quietly. "In the middle of town and using some sort of mind control to hurt and make people hurt each other. One dead and two more badly injured. Paramedics and police can't get anywhere near her to stop her."
"Let's get a move on." Oliver was already pulling on his coat as he spoke.
"Not telling Lois?" Chloe asked, smiling.
"We'll never get out of here if I tell her I've got to go. And she'll lecture me if I tell her it's a business thing."
Clark shook his head and pulled the front door open. "You can deal with Lois later." He raised his voice. "We'll be back as soon as we can, Mom," he called, shutting the door behind them before anyone could question why they were all going.
The street outside the Talon was full of gusting snowflakes washed in red and blue by the flashing lights of the police cars and ambulances. In the middle of the street a young woman stood over the prone body of a man, the lone fatality, her mouth open in a long, drawn-out wail.
Clark landed next to the Sheriff. "What's going on?" he asked, voice slipping into the tone he used only when he was in costume.
"She killed the guy at her feet, claimed he'd been hurting her. When we tried to approach, she ... I don't know what she did, but suddenly two of my officers were turning on the others, forcing them back at gunpoint." He jerked his chin to the left, indicating a man and a woman posed in a shooters stance, keeping the onlookers at bay. "Johnson's already shot another officer and a paramedic. That's them behind Sarah," he said as he pointed to two huddled lumps sitting about eight feet behind the female officer and at least fifteen feet in front of the woman and the body.
The Sheriff turned to face Clark. "We need to get to them and stop her before she hurts anyone else, Superman."
Clark nodded grimly and raised a hand to the communicator at his ear. "Watchtower, what have you got?"
Chloe's voice filled his ear. "Rebecca Dourney, 22 years old, caught in the last meteor shower, hospitalized for two weeks and comatose for one of those. She landed in the psych ward for evaluation a month later when she claimed she could control people with her mind. They diagnosed her with post-traumatic stress and sent her on her way. The dead guy is her boyfriend, Alex Davies. I don't have anything on him."
"Anyone else on their way?"
"Batman and Wonder Woman are en route with supplies for Green Arrow." Clark nodded. Oliver would need his costume before he could help.
"What's the deal here, Supes?" Clark glanced to his right as Bart stopped at his side.
"Thought you were overseas."
Bart grinned. "You know water's not an issue for me, man. Picked up the broadcast on the comm link, thought I'd come down and help." He spoke into his comm next. "Impulse is on scene, Watchtower."
Clark slipped into x-ray vision, examining the two injured men. "Can you get in there to carry the paramedic out? He's injured more severely than the other guy."
"Sure thing, Stretch, I got it covered." Bart got as far as lifting the man off the ground before he dropped down to his knees and laid him back down. With slow, jerking movements he walked back over to where Clark was speaking urgently to the Sheriff.
"Make everyone go away." His voice was stilted and forced, just like his movements.
Clark glanced at the Sheriff and nodded. The man walked away and started issuing orders. It took ten minutes, and by then the paramedic was shivering and half conscious as shock set it, but the man was able to move all of his team and any onlookers inside the Talon. He reappeared at Clark's side when they were done.
"What next?"
Bart shook his head rapidly, bringing a hand up to press fingers into his eyes. "She – wow that was not fun man."
"You okay?"
Bart glanced up at Clark and nodded. "Fine, man. What are we going to do about her though?" In their ears, Chloe told them Bruce and Diana were only twenty minutes out.
"We distract her until there're more of us. Stay back here and try to head her off if she tries anything."
Clark moved slowly towards the young woman, hands held out in a show of peace. "Rebecca, we're here to help you. But you need to let us get to those men before they die. We can't help you if we can't help them." He stopped about ten feet to the right of the injured men, parallel to them. Even in the early evening light he could see tears streaking silently down her face. "Rebecca, do you understand me?"
She let out an aborted sob and nodded, whispering, "Go on."
Clark nodded to Bart, who moved in swiftly with paramedics in tow to help them. He faced Rebecca again. At her feet he could see a small pistol, black as night against the white snow. She followed his gaze and leaned down to pick it up. She examined it carefully, fingers tracing over the cold metal.
"You're faster than a speeding bullet, aren't you?" Clark strained to hear her over the whistling of the wind whipping past them.
"Rebecca, please put the gun down. Tell me what happened." Behind him Bart was watching as the paramedics loaded their charges onto stretchers while keeping one eye focused on Clark and the girl.
"He cheated on me. And when I found out and said I was breaking up with him, he started to hit me. He broke my wrist." She was still staring at the gun. Looking past her coat, Clark could see the plaster cast surrounding the spiral break on her wrist. Finger-shaped bruises still dotted the skin, fading and yellowing now with age.
"He said I was a freak."
Clark took another step forward.
"He told me no one could ever love me because I was a freak, so I should just shut up and put up with it." She looked up. "Don't come any closer," she whispered.
"Rebecca, he's dead. He can't hurt you anymore. Now you need to let me help you."
"He hurt me and told me I was an abomination, and then he told me I deserved to die." She turned tear-filled eyes on him. "STOP MOVING!" she screamed. Clark froze in place.
"Let me help you," he said quietly.
"You can't help me. No one can help me." She stepped over the body and started moving towards him. Clark gestured for Bart to stay where he was when he saw his friend start forward. As she advanced, the realization that she had been clutching a small piece of meteor rock in one hand struck Clark in the form of a sharp, all-encompassing pain flooding through him, intensifying as she drew closer.
"If you give me a chance –" he started, straining to keep his voice steady and his body still.
"No." Behind him Clark heard the sound of the safety clicking off and a gun cocking. He turned his head to see the Sheriff pointing his weapon at him, expression blank. In front of him, Rebecca raised her own gun to her head.
Without thought for himself, Clark started forward, shouting her name. He was brought up short by the sound of a gunshot and a burning pain forcing a path through his chest. Rebecca let out one final sob before pulling the trigger of her own gun and dropping silently to the ground just five feet away from him. The kryptonite in her hand dropped into the snow, the weight of it sinking into the three inches that had accumulated.
Clark fell to his knees as Bart appeared at his side. "Stretch? Hey, man, what the hell happened?" His hand was a warm weight on Clark's back as he tipped forward to his hands and his knees. Blood dripped to the snow, staining it pink as it spread beneath him. Bruce appeared at his side a second later while Diana stopped long enough to gently take the gun out of the stunned, numb fingers of the Sheriff.
"Hey," he said gruffly. "What happened to being invulnerable?"
Clark choked on a laugh, blood slipping from between his lips to join the already growing stain on the ground. "Get me out of here," he groaned when he got his breath back. Bruce slid an arm under his shoulders and with Diana's help, they lifted Clark to his feet, ignoring his half-stifled cry of pain, and started moving him away. They headed towards the opposite side of the road, away from the people flooding out of the Talon and other shops on the street. The further away they got, the easier it became for Clark to breath.
Oliver appeared next to them in an unfamiliar black SUV with tinted windows. Chloe was already in the front passenger seat. Bruce helped situate an already healing Clark in the back seat before shutting the door behind him. Chloe rolled down her window.
"We'll stay here to deal with the authorities," Diana said, nodding to Bart where he stood next to her. Oliver threw the car into gear and turned the vehicle in the direction of the farm.
"When did you become a car thief," Clark asked, still panting slightly.
"When you went and got yourself shot. What the hell happened there, by the way?"
Clark sighed quietly and closed his eyes. "I think she needed to hold onto a piece of meteor rock in order for her ability to work."
"Your weakness," Bruce said quietly.
"They're fragments from my home planet." He met Oliver's eyes in the review mirror, silently thanking the man for having kept that information to himself until Clark revealed it. Oliver nodded almost imperceptibly at him.
Bruce had pulled Clark's uniform down enough to look at the now-healed wound that had been high on the right side of his chest. "Not a mark," he said.
"I heal when I'm not around it anymore."
"It can kill you?" Clark met Bruce's eyes.
"Yes." No one in the car spoke until Oliver pulled to a stop in front of the house.
"We're here," He said to break the silence.
"I'll go take care of Jimmy and Lois. I'll let you know when it's clear to come in, Clark." She unbuckled her seat belt and slipped out of the vehicle. A few minutes later her voice came over the comm link with the all clear.
"You up to speeding in there and changing?" Oliver asked.
"Yeah, I'll be fine."
"Right, Bruce and I will be in shortly."
"We will?"
Oliver grinned. "If I tell Lois I went to pick you up then she won't yell at me." Clark disappeared from the SUV before Oliver finished speaking. "Your change of clothes is in the bag back there. Promise I won't peak." Bruce's glare was lost on Oliver as the man turned his attention out the driver's side window. Two minutes later found Oliver and Bruce entering through the front door.
Lois was on her way from the kitchen to the living room, steaming mug of coffee in hand, when the two stepped into the room. "Well, you're just about the last person I ever expected to see in Smallville."
"Ms. Lane," Bruce said.
Martha entered on her heels. "Mr. Wayne, hello. This is a surprise."
"Mrs. Kent, my apologies for the intrusion. I was nearby on business and I'm afraid I'm stranded. Oliver was kind enough to pick me up, but wouldn't hear of taking me to a hotel."
"Well he was right, a hotel is no place to be in weather like this. Come in and make yourself comfortable. Would you like some coffee?"
"Coffee would be wonderful, thank you Mrs. Kent."
"Please, call me Martha." She glanced out the window. "It looks like the weather's getting worse. We might all be here a while." She disappeared back into the kitchen. The front door opened then and Clark entered looking wind tousled and still slightly pale.
"Hey Smallville, where'd you disappear to?"
"Dave Wilkins called, needed a hand getting his tractor out of a snow bank."
"And he needed to do this in the middle of a snow storm?" Lois asked.
"It's an expensive piece of machinery, Lois. In weather like this, it could have gotten damaged –"
"Spare me the farm boy lecture," she interrupted, lifting her mug to her lips and missing the flicker of a glare Bruce focused on her.
"I'll be back down in a few minutes. Bruce, I'm glad Oliver got you here safely." He disappeared up the stairs.
Bruce waited a few minutes before excusing himself in search of the washroom. Climbing the stairs, he headed for the partially closed door behind which he could see Clark moving. He tapped on the frame lightly and pushed the door open. Clark glanced over his shoulder at him.
"Come on in."
Bruce entered and closed the door behind him. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. I told you I heal once I'm away from it."
"I really was starting to think you were invulnerable." Something in Bruce's tone brought Clark's head up from folding his costume into his old backpack.
"Sorry if I scared you," he said in a low voice.
"I owe you an apology."
"For what?"
"The way I've been treating you." Clark shook his head and started to object, but Bruce stopped him. "No, Clark. My decision to refrain from pursuing... something personal with you came across harsher than I'd intended. I don't do relationships, and we have to work together. It would have ended eventually, and I didn't want to risk jeopardizing the safety of the public or the other members of the League."
"I understood that, Bruce."
"But I can't get you out of my head. When I saw you were hurt and bleeding, everything else sort of fell to the wayside. I realized I've been an absolute ass to you."
"Yeah, you have been."
"You've been an ass to me as well."
"Yeah, I have."
"No more?"
"What about us?"
"We have to work together."
"People date their co-workers all the time, Bruce."
"And when the relationship ends they have the option to move to another position, another job, if things are messy. We don't."
Clark smiled sadly. "We're both adults."
"Who are depended on by thousands of people every moment of every day."
Clark gave him an all too familiar look, the one that made Bruce feel like he was being examined inside and out, before speaking. "Truce?"
"Truce." Bruce left the room without another word.