Please see chapter one for disclaimers. The rating has not yet changed.
Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I apologise for my slowness. I hope you won't give up on me.
I cannot post a chapter without acknowledging Lacasta, who continues to keep me on the straight and narrow.
The Missing 12
His bones hurt. It was hard to keep his back straight as he walked behind the guard. The test had pushed him to his limit and beyond and he had no strength left. Clark didn't mind. The pain was real, helping him concentrate on the present and shut out the flashes of confusing images that plagued him. When he was this tired he didn't have to think.
Clark knew his name and that he was not from this planet. The scientists had told him that much. He was physically different from everyone else, though he was not sure he understood it all. His strength and invulnerability had already been proven to him time and again even though he still flinched with fear with each new test.
His mother had warned him that the scientists didn't know that he had heat and x-ray vision. Clark had almost laughed at his mother's furtive warning. Hell, HE didn't even know he had heat and x-ray vision. They couldn't force this information from him in the past as they hadn't had the evidence or imagination to suspect them. The problem was Clark didn't know if he still had these abilities. He wasn't even sure he believed in them. If he did, he no longer knew how to control them. He was just thankful nothing had come on spontaneously. His mother had been worried it might.
As he walked, he looked at the bruises on his arms. His mother had also told him that he hadn't been able to get bruises since his fifteenth year. He wished he could remember his fifteenth year. He did remember his mother. He had flashes of her smiling face framed with rich red hair. When he'd first woken up, she'd been beside him holding his hand. He'd recognised her instantly but could not remember who she was. The feeling of love and security however, had been a tangible thing as her warm hand held his and it had not been long before the word "Mom" burst forth. He had the same reaction when he thought of the yellow house. He couldn't stop the feeling that if he could just get there and walk through the door everything would be good again. He knew it was not true but the belief was buried deep inside him.
His thoughts were interrupted as the guard gestured him into his room and closed the door behind him. He heard the lock click. He closed his eyes and curled his shoulders backward, trying to take the pain out of his back.
"Hello, Clark."
Startled, his eyes shot open and his back crackled with pain as he tensed. It was the blonde he'd met in the cafeteria. He knew she was someone from his past. The sudden feelings had been frightening in their intensity. He walked cautiously towards her as flashes of memories and feelings confused him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looked into her pretty eyes, blue-grey and framed with dark lashes, and felt again a surge of happiness at the sight of her. Sunshine smiles, laughter, her shoulder pressed warmly against his as they sat side by side and the faint flowery smell of her shampoo... Chloe... He closed his eyes to try to hold the memories before they dissappeared. Moments of pleasure, lost in his past.
Another ingrained memory was that he had a secret to keep. His mother had told him they'd kept his strangeness a secret for all of his life. He had eventually been discovered and brought here. Clark looked again at Chloe and realised she knew he was different. Had she known in the past? Somehow, he was sure that she hadn't. He looked closer trying to see any hint of revulsion in her face. She was smiling a big smile with white teeth gleaming under pink gums and her eyes squinting with happiness. Her look welcomed him, pulling him back into the warmth of her smile. He felt his lips curve up in response.
"Chloe." Without thought he reached up to touch her, brushing his fingers lightly on her cheek. Impossibly, her smile became brighter. As she relaxed into his touch, he realised she must have been tense.
"I've missed you, Clark." He wondered why she was whispering. She brought her palm up to rest lightly on his cheek. "Do you still remember me?" Closing his eyes he leaned into the comforting touch. Only his mother touched him gently like this.
"I remember you...in a pink dress. You were very pretty." Clark kept his eyes closed and whispered back. He remembered sunshine and the wind rustling stray hairs at the vulnerable nape of her neck. She hadn't worn a necklace and her skin had glowed with health, looking soft and touchable. The memory brought a burst of warmth in his chest. Had he loved her? He didn't know. He wasn't sure what his emotions really meant. She stirred so many different feelings. It was hard to pinpoint just one.
Clark opened his eyes, hoping the sight of her would clarify things. Blue eyes met his through a mist of tears. He'd seen her crying before. The images of the box in the ground came back and he gasped, pulling suddenly away. Fear streaked an icy finger up his spine. When the memories were this vivid it was as if he was reliving them. Things were coming back more frequently in the last few days, in more detail and this memory was no different. It had been cold, their breath fogging the air between them. She'd hugged him in the dark, clinging desperately as his arms tightened around her and he knew that he had loved her in that moment. But the wave of emotion passed and he backed up to pull his thoughts together.
"I remember you. It comes in bits and pieces. Nothing makes sense anymore..."
Her soft hand came back to his cheek. "I don't expect you to remember anything. I'm glad that you remember me at all. It's more than I could hope for. I know you're confused but Dr. Peel has asked me to try to help you with your memories because we knew each other, years ago, before you came here."
"Have I been here that long?"
"My best guess would be two years." With his recent experience of time being limited to a month, two years sounded like forever.
"Did you remember me?" He didn't even try to keep the hope out of his voice.
Her smile was gentle and a little sad. "Yes. I wouldn't forget you, Clark."
"Then we were good friends?" He was sure of it.
"Yes." Her eyes sparkled. "I teased you terribly. So did Pete. Do you remember him?"
"I remember his face, always smiling, and my mom said he was my best friend. Pete sometimes helped me hide things. I talked to mom about him and she said he knew I was an alien."
"Really?" She did not sound surprised, then her look changed, becoming sharper, more inquisitive. "Tell me. How did he find out?" A sudden image of her holding a small recorder made reality waiver.
Changing the subject was a reflex, done before he even realised it as he asked, "How did we know each other?"
"We were classmates in high school."
"I think...we were more than that. I remember more when you wore that pink dress. We danced and I held you tight. Your hair was soft against my cheek and I was truly happy." He paused to concentrate on the memory. "That kind of happy didn't happen much for me." Clark smiled with simple and truthful self-revelation. That was it. She made him happy and they must have been close to have danced together. He finally felt things were making sense. "Were you my girlfriend?"
Chloe pursed her lips obviously considering her answer. Clark's smile disappeared. "We were just friends, Clark. We went to one dance together. I guess that's why I'm so surprised you remember it."
"Oh." Clark's voice was small with disappointment. Chloe reached out and grabbed his forearm in a reassuring gesture. Clark winced and Chloe pulled her hand back quickly.
"Are you all right? Let me see."She pulled his arm foreward by the wrist and pushed up his sleeve. Several dark bruises marred his pale skin. "They've hurt you!" Her indignant tone warmed him.
He turned his arm over looking at the spots. "Mom says I grew out of bruising when I was fifteen but that I'm not as strong now. They only hurt when you press on them."
Chloe's voice broke a little. "Oh, Clark."
There were tears in her eyes again and that was not good, so he smiled. "I remember my house." Her expression seemed far away. He tried to smile bigger. "Mom says we lived on a farm. I don't like to talk to her too much about it because it makes her sad. Do you remember my house?" It was hard to keep smiling.
Chloe rubbed her eyes with her fingers and also smiled but Clark noticed that her eyes did not squint up. "You had a lovely house. It was warm and happy. Your mom baked muffins that she sold at the local coffee shop. Even when she wasn't baking, that house smelled delicious." The smile finally reached her eyes. "Judging by the size of you, I think you were well fed."
Clark ducked his head at the quick change to teasing and looked at his feet. They were certainly bigger than any others he'd seen at the lab. Maybe his size was due to being an alien also. "Tell me what you remember. I want to remember my home."
"You had a loft. You called it your Fortress of Solitude.."
Clark interrupted. "No, that was my dad..." Clark's voice faded and the last word hung in the silence between them. His Dad had had yellow hair like Chloe's but with gentle curls. He'd had strong arms that had lifted him as a child and provided a warm hug across his shoulder when he felt confused or scared. His mother had told him his father was dead but the images hadn't come. She'd looked sad and he'd asked about something else to distract her before he could think on it much. That had been when a lot of his thinking was still muddled. His thoughts were clearer now, better every day, and he remembered the man who'd raised him. Again the memories were piecemeal but the feelings were strong. Love and a terrible longing. Perhaps because he was dead.
"Did my dad die on the farm? Mom said he was dead but she sounded like she was hurting so I talked about something else. Do you know how my father died?"
Chloe looked into his eyes and chewed on her bottom lip. Clark sat patiently waiting for a reply. The young woman in front of him sighed sadly as she seemed to make a decision. "I don't think I'm the one to tell you that. I wasn't there when Jonathan Kent passed and it might be best to wait until you remember it yourself or your mother feels strong enough to tell you. I can tell you what I know of how he lived...to help you remember."
"I'd like to know more about him. I want to remember him. I want to help my mother think of him without being so sad." Clark played with the bottom hem of his shirt, examining the stitching and considered what Chloe said. It was easy to accept her authority. She wasn't damaged like he was and would probably know best. The conversation turned to the farm, Chloe started a list of daily chores that Clark was able to complete for her. Stories of hot summer days, watching Pete and Clark play basketball, occasionally stealing the ball when she got bored. Unable to compete with any skill, she'd never been particularly enamoured of sports and had felt left out when they started to play while she was visiting. Clark laughed at the mischevious look on her face as she described the time she'd saran wrapped the hoop. It had taken considerable skill to acheive the proper amount of invisibility and her ingenuity had not been truly appreciated.
Clark inhaled a deep breath through his nose, noting her pleasant scent and appreciating the feeling of contentment he had at that moment. Her hair fell forward as she bent her head down in a laugh and he reached up to push it back. She stilled as her smile died slowly and her look became grave. Clark felt he should do something more, like she was expecting something but he didn't know what. The moment was lost when the door behind them opened. They pulled back suddenly and turned to see a group of men enter the room, a well-dressed young man leading them.
He heard Chloe almost whisper, "Lucas Luthor."
The young man looked directly at Clark as he spoke. "Pack your bags, rocketman. We're going on a little trip."
Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I apologise for my slowness. I hope you won't give up on me.
I cannot post a chapter without acknowledging Lacasta, who continues to keep me on the straight and narrow.
The Missing 12
His bones hurt. It was hard to keep his back straight as he walked behind the guard. The test had pushed him to his limit and beyond and he had no strength left. Clark didn't mind. The pain was real, helping him concentrate on the present and shut out the flashes of confusing images that plagued him. When he was this tired he didn't have to think.
Clark knew his name and that he was not from this planet. The scientists had told him that much. He was physically different from everyone else, though he was not sure he understood it all. His strength and invulnerability had already been proven to him time and again even though he still flinched with fear with each new test.
His mother had warned him that the scientists didn't know that he had heat and x-ray vision. Clark had almost laughed at his mother's furtive warning. Hell, HE didn't even know he had heat and x-ray vision. They couldn't force this information from him in the past as they hadn't had the evidence or imagination to suspect them. The problem was Clark didn't know if he still had these abilities. He wasn't even sure he believed in them. If he did, he no longer knew how to control them. He was just thankful nothing had come on spontaneously. His mother had been worried it might.
As he walked, he looked at the bruises on his arms. His mother had also told him that he hadn't been able to get bruises since his fifteenth year. He wished he could remember his fifteenth year. He did remember his mother. He had flashes of her smiling face framed with rich red hair. When he'd first woken up, she'd been beside him holding his hand. He'd recognised her instantly but could not remember who she was. The feeling of love and security however, had been a tangible thing as her warm hand held his and it had not been long before the word "Mom" burst forth. He had the same reaction when he thought of the yellow house. He couldn't stop the feeling that if he could just get there and walk through the door everything would be good again. He knew it was not true but the belief was buried deep inside him.
His thoughts were interrupted as the guard gestured him into his room and closed the door behind him. He heard the lock click. He closed his eyes and curled his shoulders backward, trying to take the pain out of his back.
"Hello, Clark."
Startled, his eyes shot open and his back crackled with pain as he tensed. It was the blonde he'd met in the cafeteria. He knew she was someone from his past. The sudden feelings had been frightening in their intensity. He walked cautiously towards her as flashes of memories and feelings confused him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looked into her pretty eyes, blue-grey and framed with dark lashes, and felt again a surge of happiness at the sight of her. Sunshine smiles, laughter, her shoulder pressed warmly against his as they sat side by side and the faint flowery smell of her shampoo... Chloe... He closed his eyes to try to hold the memories before they dissappeared. Moments of pleasure, lost in his past.
Another ingrained memory was that he had a secret to keep. His mother had told him they'd kept his strangeness a secret for all of his life. He had eventually been discovered and brought here. Clark looked again at Chloe and realised she knew he was different. Had she known in the past? Somehow, he was sure that she hadn't. He looked closer trying to see any hint of revulsion in her face. She was smiling a big smile with white teeth gleaming under pink gums and her eyes squinting with happiness. Her look welcomed him, pulling him back into the warmth of her smile. He felt his lips curve up in response.
"Chloe." Without thought he reached up to touch her, brushing his fingers lightly on her cheek. Impossibly, her smile became brighter. As she relaxed into his touch, he realised she must have been tense.
"I've missed you, Clark." He wondered why she was whispering. She brought her palm up to rest lightly on his cheek. "Do you still remember me?" Closing his eyes he leaned into the comforting touch. Only his mother touched him gently like this.
"I remember you...in a pink dress. You were very pretty." Clark kept his eyes closed and whispered back. He remembered sunshine and the wind rustling stray hairs at the vulnerable nape of her neck. She hadn't worn a necklace and her skin had glowed with health, looking soft and touchable. The memory brought a burst of warmth in his chest. Had he loved her? He didn't know. He wasn't sure what his emotions really meant. She stirred so many different feelings. It was hard to pinpoint just one.
Clark opened his eyes, hoping the sight of her would clarify things. Blue eyes met his through a mist of tears. He'd seen her crying before. The images of the box in the ground came back and he gasped, pulling suddenly away. Fear streaked an icy finger up his spine. When the memories were this vivid it was as if he was reliving them. Things were coming back more frequently in the last few days, in more detail and this memory was no different. It had been cold, their breath fogging the air between them. She'd hugged him in the dark, clinging desperately as his arms tightened around her and he knew that he had loved her in that moment. But the wave of emotion passed and he backed up to pull his thoughts together.
"I remember you. It comes in bits and pieces. Nothing makes sense anymore..."
Her soft hand came back to his cheek. "I don't expect you to remember anything. I'm glad that you remember me at all. It's more than I could hope for. I know you're confused but Dr. Peel has asked me to try to help you with your memories because we knew each other, years ago, before you came here."
"Have I been here that long?"
"My best guess would be two years." With his recent experience of time being limited to a month, two years sounded like forever.
"Did you remember me?" He didn't even try to keep the hope out of his voice.
Her smile was gentle and a little sad. "Yes. I wouldn't forget you, Clark."
"Then we were good friends?" He was sure of it.
"Yes." Her eyes sparkled. "I teased you terribly. So did Pete. Do you remember him?"
"I remember his face, always smiling, and my mom said he was my best friend. Pete sometimes helped me hide things. I talked to mom about him and she said he knew I was an alien."
"Really?" She did not sound surprised, then her look changed, becoming sharper, more inquisitive. "Tell me. How did he find out?" A sudden image of her holding a small recorder made reality waiver.
Changing the subject was a reflex, done before he even realised it as he asked, "How did we know each other?"
"We were classmates in high school."
"I think...we were more than that. I remember more when you wore that pink dress. We danced and I held you tight. Your hair was soft against my cheek and I was truly happy." He paused to concentrate on the memory. "That kind of happy didn't happen much for me." Clark smiled with simple and truthful self-revelation. That was it. She made him happy and they must have been close to have danced together. He finally felt things were making sense. "Were you my girlfriend?"
Chloe pursed her lips obviously considering her answer. Clark's smile disappeared. "We were just friends, Clark. We went to one dance together. I guess that's why I'm so surprised you remember it."
"Oh." Clark's voice was small with disappointment. Chloe reached out and grabbed his forearm in a reassuring gesture. Clark winced and Chloe pulled her hand back quickly.
"Are you all right? Let me see."She pulled his arm foreward by the wrist and pushed up his sleeve. Several dark bruises marred his pale skin. "They've hurt you!" Her indignant tone warmed him.
He turned his arm over looking at the spots. "Mom says I grew out of bruising when I was fifteen but that I'm not as strong now. They only hurt when you press on them."
Chloe's voice broke a little. "Oh, Clark."
There were tears in her eyes again and that was not good, so he smiled. "I remember my house." Her expression seemed far away. He tried to smile bigger. "Mom says we lived on a farm. I don't like to talk to her too much about it because it makes her sad. Do you remember my house?" It was hard to keep smiling.
Chloe rubbed her eyes with her fingers and also smiled but Clark noticed that her eyes did not squint up. "You had a lovely house. It was warm and happy. Your mom baked muffins that she sold at the local coffee shop. Even when she wasn't baking, that house smelled delicious." The smile finally reached her eyes. "Judging by the size of you, I think you were well fed."
Clark ducked his head at the quick change to teasing and looked at his feet. They were certainly bigger than any others he'd seen at the lab. Maybe his size was due to being an alien also. "Tell me what you remember. I want to remember my home."
"You had a loft. You called it your Fortress of Solitude.."
Clark interrupted. "No, that was my dad..." Clark's voice faded and the last word hung in the silence between them. His Dad had had yellow hair like Chloe's but with gentle curls. He'd had strong arms that had lifted him as a child and provided a warm hug across his shoulder when he felt confused or scared. His mother had told him his father was dead but the images hadn't come. She'd looked sad and he'd asked about something else to distract her before he could think on it much. That had been when a lot of his thinking was still muddled. His thoughts were clearer now, better every day, and he remembered the man who'd raised him. Again the memories were piecemeal but the feelings were strong. Love and a terrible longing. Perhaps because he was dead.
"Did my dad die on the farm? Mom said he was dead but she sounded like she was hurting so I talked about something else. Do you know how my father died?"
Chloe looked into his eyes and chewed on her bottom lip. Clark sat patiently waiting for a reply. The young woman in front of him sighed sadly as she seemed to make a decision. "I don't think I'm the one to tell you that. I wasn't there when Jonathan Kent passed and it might be best to wait until you remember it yourself or your mother feels strong enough to tell you. I can tell you what I know of how he lived...to help you remember."
"I'd like to know more about him. I want to remember him. I want to help my mother think of him without being so sad." Clark played with the bottom hem of his shirt, examining the stitching and considered what Chloe said. It was easy to accept her authority. She wasn't damaged like he was and would probably know best. The conversation turned to the farm, Chloe started a list of daily chores that Clark was able to complete for her. Stories of hot summer days, watching Pete and Clark play basketball, occasionally stealing the ball when she got bored. Unable to compete with any skill, she'd never been particularly enamoured of sports and had felt left out when they started to play while she was visiting. Clark laughed at the mischevious look on her face as she described the time she'd saran wrapped the hoop. It had taken considerable skill to acheive the proper amount of invisibility and her ingenuity had not been truly appreciated.
Clark inhaled a deep breath through his nose, noting her pleasant scent and appreciating the feeling of contentment he had at that moment. Her hair fell forward as she bent her head down in a laugh and he reached up to push it back. She stilled as her smile died slowly and her look became grave. Clark felt he should do something more, like she was expecting something but he didn't know what. The moment was lost when the door behind them opened. They pulled back suddenly and turned to see a group of men enter the room, a well-dressed young man leading them.
He heard Chloe almost whisper, "Lucas Luthor."
The young man looked directly at Clark as he spoke. "Pack your bags, rocketman. We're going on a little trip."