Clark ground to a halt outside Hamilton's lab. He X-rayed the building and observed two figures. One was sitting at a desk; the other was leaning over it. As Clark watched, the seated figure waved its arms aggressively and the other one pulled out a gun. Clark waited no longer. He shot forward into the building and almost fell over. Between him and the two gentlemen, now revealed to be Dr Hamilton and Justin Webb, was a vast collection of meteor rocks. The two men looked at Clark in surprise, Webb still pointing the gun at Hamilton's head.
'Aha,' called Webb across the room. 'I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up. You're late. I have everything I need from this man.'
Clark tried to advance upon him, but the meteor rocks pushed him back. He watched helplessly as Webb shot Hamilton in the shoulder and then in the leg.
'I may need your help later, so try not to die on me,' he said. 'Hey, kid! Mind if I shoot you too?' Webb laughed, and waved the gun in Clark's direction. Clark started backing away. He had no idea if a bullet could kill him when he was weakened by meteor rock exposure, and he was not inclined to find out.
Webb pulled the trigger and a bullet cauterised the air above Clark's ear. He'd barely managed to get out of the way in time. Webb tried to shoot him again, but the gun was empty. Clark tried to advance upon him, but was having difficulty standing.
'Damn,' said Webb. 'It seems I won't be killing you just yet. But before you come any closer I would point out that even now your young lady friend is getting herself into a bit of trouble.'
Clark froze.
'What do you mean?' He demanded.
'Oh, nothing,' taunted Webb. 'Only that she's snooping around the warehouse looking for that fool Jameson. With any luck she'll end up in a similar condition,' he smirked.
Clark felt something buckle inside of him. He tried to glare at Webb before staggering back out of the door. He felt his energy returning and began to run back across town. The meteor rocks had affected him, though; he could not quite reach his full speed. He just prayed it would be enough to reach her in time.
He finally reached the warehouse, breathing heavily. He saw a shape on the floor by the office door.
And for the first time in his life Clark felt genuinely cold. Chilled to the very marrow. The microseconds in which he stood there staring felt like hours. The world became silent, filled with the sound of anguish. The warehouse, or maybe just his mind, lurched and spun.
Finally he dragged himself back into the world and ran over to her. Chloe's chest was soaked in crimson, but she was still breathing. Barely. He shuddered a sigh of cautious relief and picked her up as gently as he dared. She wore a frown of mild puzzlement, but otherwise displayed no signs of consciousness.
As he turned to face the exit he thought he caught a figure moving in the corner of his eye. He turned to stare, but it disappeared. Well, if it were Webb he would have to wait. Clark's immediate concern was for Chloe's welfare. He ran as fast as he could to the hospital, trying not to jog her.
* * *
They had operated on her for an hour, during which Clark had waited in a daze outside the operating theatre. During this time Clark could not have cared less if Webb went round and single-handedly shot the entire population of Smallville.
Chloe was now in a room, hooked up to a ventilator. The doctors had told Clark that she was in a coma and the outcome did not look at all good. The machines were keeping her alive.
Lana and Pete and many others had come and gone, and Clark was now sitting by her bedside with his head in his hands. Through the turmoil in his mind the hospital radio filtered through. It was playing "Haemorrhage", by Fuel. Clark let the music wash through his pained being and reflected upon the poetic irony of the lyrics.
"Don't fall away,
And leave me to myself.
Don't fall away,
And leave love bleeding
In my hands,
In my hands again.
Leave love bleeding
In my hands,
In my hands
Love lies bleeding…
And I wanted
You to turn away.
You don't remember
But I do…"
Clark began to emerge from his torpor and came to a decision. In reality, of course, he'd already made it. When Jameson had told him about the machine, he'd known that he would have to use it. But he'd tried so hard to avoid it; he had a bad feeling that it would do him no good. After witnessing all the crazy events the meteor rocks seemed to induce over the last year he felt sure that this machine would be intimately connected with them.
Yet now there was no choice. The risk to himself was negligible compared to what Chloe had already suffered, not to mention the other people Webb had shot.
He bent over and kissed Chloe on her forehead. Then he took a deep breath, steeled himself, and left.
* * *