Chapter 11: Crossing

He was alone. No more bombs struck, though the air seemed to dance with green. "There are other targets, Pete," Lex said to the empty room. "Just give me some time." He dashed for the steel doors wrenched half off their hinges and into the darkness, feeling his way down the stairs, toward a dim light that came from the door that was unlocked, as Kal-El had hoped, and slightly ajar.

The workers the night before had disconnected Dolman's device from its cord, incongruously new in the dingy room, connected — seemingly melded — into the power panel that covered one wall. He thought he could detect a faint sickly green glow from behind the panel — the Kryptonite, if Dolman had been right about this. The whole damn place was some mad scientist's experiment, Lex thought wryly as he powered up the device. Even if what he was about to do was part of Dolman's design, it still felt a bit like he was tricking the thing — tricking the universe.

To reach Clark, Lex had to reach back to the past they shared, before time had been split in two, to the last moments before Lillian Luthor received a message imploring her to leave her husband. So to that time and place the first call would go. Lex knew he had to make it as brief as possible — not mess with that past any more than he had to. He felt a twinge of guilt to think that Lillian was the one actor in this who had had no say as her life was manipulated. He fervently hoped her fate would at least be no worse than dying anonymously in an Edge City hospital.

His hands were trembling as he put the device's small receiver to his ear. He could do this. He activated the first command, and held his breath as a phone rang.

"Hello." A woman's voice. His mother's voice, he thought with wonder, and found himself fighting the urge to keep her there, hear her speak, say anything to him. He himself seemed to have lost the power to utter a word. She spoke again: "Hello?"

Lex collected himself. "I ... I think I have the wrong number. I'm sorry."

"Oh," Lillian said. "That's all ri —"

His finger darted to the key for the next command, disconnecting her before she could end the call herself. She was gone, but he whispered, "Goodbye."

Now came the real test. Would Dolman's code work, and divert Lex's connection into — what? — the shadow of the former timeline? In this world, the number he dialed next should have been disconnected, as dead as the man who once used it, but it was ringing ...

"Perry White. Daily Planet."

Despite Lex's triumphant amazement, this time he did not hesitate; he knew better than to waste Perry's time. "Could I please speak to Clark Kent?"

"Clark Kent?" Perry's voice was frankly incredulous. Was Lois's guess wrong? Was Clark not there? But then Perry said irritably, "Hold on. I'll transfer you." He began muttering, "What am I, some kind of damn secretary now? How do I work this thing?"

Oh no, Lex thought. Do not let Perry handle the technology.

"Wait!" he cried. "Please, Mr. White, I don't have a lot of time, and if I get disconnected, I may not be able to call again. Can you just bring Mr. Kent to this phone?" Lex had a burst of inspiration. "It's for a very important story; I have highly confidential and damaging information —"

"All right, all right," he growled. Lex heard the phone dropped on the desk with a clatter. "Kent! My office, now!" A moment later, Lex heard Perry's voice in the background again: "This better be good. The phone's for you. I guess you're going to miss the meeting." A door slammed, and there was a brief silence.

Lex heard the phone lifted from the desk.

It was Kal-El's voice, perplexed but polite. "This is Clark Kent. Can I help you?"

"Clark — oh thank God."

"Who is this?"

"It's Lex K—" No, wait, not to Clark. That was not the name he'd know. But Clark filled in the rest.

"Luthor."

Whatever Lex had been expecting, it had not been that abrupt chill in Clark's voice. For the second time he was rendered speechless, but this time his heart began pounding. What was wrong? How grievously had he miscalculated, depending on scant, obscure memories ...

"What do you want?" Still distant, but Clark seemed to relent ever so slightly. It was enough to allow Lex to take heart a little and see this thing through.

"Clark, I don't know how much time I have here, so you need to listen. I know what you're about to do, but you can't."

"I can't do what?"

"I know you've got Dr. Shawn Dolman's device; you're going to use it in a few minutes to record a message to my mother. I know this because here, where I am, your message was sent, and it worked. Time changed, and the world with it."

"What?" The voice was only pretending to be remote and disbelieving now. Lex heard genuine shock.

"I don't know what you wanted to accomplish, but it couldn't have been this. I know it couldn't have been this."

"What do you mean?"

"Clark, who are your parents?"

"What? Jonathan and Martha Kent, you know that."

"Not anymore. Not after you sent that message to Lillian. I don't have time to explain how it happened, but here, the Kents didn't raise you. Lionel Luthor did. Alone. I think you can imagine what that means. The powers you have, Clark —"

"Lex. Powers ..." Clark was reflexively indulgent, evidently on the verge of denying any such thing, but Lex dismissed him impatiently.

"We both know the powers you have. And if you had been raised to believe you could use them in any way you saw fit, unchecked ... I am right now among the ruins of what remains of Smallville, of Kansas even. And the world lies ahead. I don't believe that's what you wanted. I heard your message. I believe your intention was to help me, but it can't be at the expense of the rest of humanity, Clark. And it can't be at your expense, either."

There was silence on the line.

"Clark."

"I'm sorry, Lex. I'm sorry couldn't ... help."

"It's okay. I know you tried. I know what you'd do for me."

"I just — I missed you."

Lex had no time to reply, or indeed divine what could have been behind that statement — he heard again the thunder of another bomb hitting the LuthorCorp complex. He didn't think it was directly above him, and this room was a bunker. But dust rained down and the noise was loud enough to be heard in another time.

"What was that?" Clark asked.

"The world now. I don't know if we'll lose power ... You cannot record that message. You have to destroy that device before you step foot out of the building —"

Another one hit. "Lex, are you okay?"

"Damn it, Clark, I will be if you just promise to do what I ask!"

And another. An alarming shower of green sparks shot out of the panel where the device was connected. Lex heard Clark give his assent — "I promise" — as a wave of green arced out and the light grew blinding. The last thing Lex felt was the receiver being ripped from his hands as a blast tossed him back. The blow as he hit the wall behind him sent him into unconsciousness.

He had paused before he left her standing at the gate. "What?" she had asked.

"Just thinking about the next time I'll see you. As friends of course."

She had seemed ready for a sarcastic quip, but then stopped herself — instead saying, "You know, it's a beautiful night. Why can't you just be here?"

"Because it's almost over," he had answered with a smile.

"True. Chloe's waiting and I gotta go." But she had stayed to watch him walk to the door, and when he had turned to look one last time, she had laughed and waved him inside with mock impatience.

Had it even happened? Somewhere in his mind, the memories fell away, traded for those belonging to a different time. Many faces were still the same, but they rearranged their places in his life. Others were new, but shaped themselves into painful familiarity. His mother. How could have he forgotten her?

There had been an accident on a bridge, a rescue that began a friendship, changed his life — that dream had been true, but it had not told him what had followed: a new beginning that had disintegrated into bitterness. All that promise lost.

Now he knew no other life. Time had dispossessed him of any other.

Except, in his unconscious state, he dreamed of a familiar girl standing by a gate who asked him at the end of a perfect day, "Why can't you just be here?"

"Because here," he sighed as he answered the girl in the dream, "seems always the worst place to be."

She nodded as if she understood. "See ya, Smallville," she said before at last the memory of her was extinguished.

Author's Note: On becs1's comments: My idea with Martha's reaction to Kal's death in Chapter 10 was that the day's events might have brought her to feel some compassion for him, but still not mourn his death; a little fence-building would not erase her knowledge of all he had done (and she had seen just that day) — as opposed to Lois, who had her own personal experience with Kal, or Lex with his fuzzy memories of Clark. I hope that came across in the storytelling. And MRP1, check it out — Clark! Your wish is my command. Well, okay, your wish is what I was planning for this chapter anyway, but it's the thought that counts, right? Anyway, thanks for your reviews, and to HAD1 and AuroraKnight, too; it means a lot. Just one more chapter to go ...