Authors Note: Thank you for the reviews...correction...review...on my story. I am now compelled to finish it for the simple reason that at least one person is reading it. Chapter Two is up, so read and enjoy.
"Yo Clark, wait up man!" My best friend Pete is struggling to keep up with me, and I hear him gasping for breath some twenty feet behind me. Unfortunately for him, his personal welfare is the furthest thing from my mind as jog toward Chandler's Field like a man possessed. It is all I can do to keep from breaking into a full blown sprint. The Kansas wind dries the perspiration on my face, but I have no room in my head for gratitude. I am completely focused on my task, my destination.
It had happened unexpectedly, and yet I had known it would. It was a long time coming, for the last time I spoke to my birth father, Jor-El, was the day of the meteor shower, not long before I had found Lana in my loft.
I was finishing up breakfast somewhat self-consciously; my mother had been watching me the entire meal and was presently beaming. Although I hadn't said a word, both of my parents looked extremely pleased that I had ventured out of my room, and respectively out of the dark abyss in which I had been trapped for two months. I'm sure they thought of it as some kind of step forward, a prospective end to the grieving process, but I didn't quite believe it, no matter how badly I wanted to. It doesn't seem plausible that I will ever stop grieving, that I will ever stop missing her, but starving myself wasn't going to bring her back, which is why I was using a piece of toast to mop the last bit of ketchup on my plate.
A knock at the door is what tore my parents' proud gaze away from my empty dish, and I was incredibly grateful when my mother rose to answer. I was debating whether or not to grab one more pancake for the road when she returned with Pete trailing slowly behind her. I had known it was him for two reasons, the first being that I heard his station wagon from a mile away. The second was that he had been coming every day for the past month and a half without fail, even though I usually refused to see him.
My father had called him up in Wichita, where he had moved with his mother the summer before, about two weeks after Lana's disappearance. Three days later, he showed up on my doorstep. Is that friendship, or what? Pete has been my best friend since kindergarten, when I pushed him off the swing for pulling Lana's pigtails. I remember him standing slowly and brushing the dirt off his new trousers while calmly explaining the law of female cooties before sticking out his hand in a very adult-like manner. I took it, and we have been inseparable ever since. He once told me that I was like his brother from another mother. I simply replied that I was his brother from another planet.
Pete is the only one of my friends that knows about my origins, and I have to admit, I couldn't have chosen a better person with which to share my secret. Not only has it taken weight off of my shoulders, it has strengthened our friendship to the point that I would give my life for him, and he for me. Not a bad bond to have in place as dangerous as Smallville, if you think about it.
"How ya doing, Clark?" he greeted casually. I stood and shrugged, indicating with my head that we should leave the room before my parents forced another helping down my throat. I didn't blame them, of course, for enjoying the fact that I was partaking in normal behavior, but that didn't mean I was about to stand there and endure the attention for longer than absolutely necessary. Pete grinned and led me out of the house. Air. Thank God for small favors.
"I'm doing okay I guess," I replied as we walked down the stairs of my front porch. Everything around me seems different somehow, less permanent, and I was struck once again with the feeling of mortality, but not my own. I am not sure that I have an ending the way everyone else does, and of late I find myself wondering if death is even possible for me. Perhaps I am immortal, I honestly don't know. The only thing I am certain of is that the ones I love aren't, and that knowledge somehow takes the security out of my surroundings, replacing it with the simple thought that it will all be gone one day. Only I will remain.
"Good. You just gotta take it one day at a time, right?" I nodded, unconvinced. "So, why don't we take this day up to Metropolis to watch the Sharks?" A cheesy smile followed, and I sighed as if disgusted with his odd sense of humor.
"I would, but I already have plans."
"Yeah, like what?"
"I have to go buy you some new material." I broke out into a smirk of my own as I took a playful punch to the arm. I was just about to accept the invitation, just to get out of Smallville for the day, when it happened. A familiar, high pitched screech pierced the quiet farmland with the quickness of a knife slicing through butter. My hands flew up to protect my ears, but it was no use. The shrill sound penetrated my senses and left me immobile as I dropped to my knees in agony. No, I thought frantically, vaguely aware of Pete's hand on my shoulder, not again. Just leave me alone.
Kal-El, my son. The voice came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It is time.
"I don't care what time it is!" I shout, not caring who is around to witness what would be seen as an episode. "I will never listen to you again! Ever! Do you understand?"
Go to her, my son, or she will die.
"Who?" Damn curiosity to hell.
I have done what I can, but only you can save her.
"No, I'm done with this! Who ever she is, let her die!"
Then your soul will die with her.
I paused, confused. "What are you talking about?"
You know where she now rests. Go to her, quickly.
"Not until you tell me what the hell is going on! Jor-El, answer me!" The silence was deafening. Even the cows over the hill were silent, as if they too had heard this strange encounter and weren't quite sure what to make of it. "Son of a bitch!" I yelled in frustration, although I knew in my heart he was gone, disappearing as quickly had he had arrived. I got to my feet, pushing Pete away as I stood.
"Clark, what happened?" His voice was unsteady, as if he were on the verge of panic. "Are you alright? Maybe I should go get your mom..."
"No, I'm fine." I spoke absently, not really paying attention to him. My focus was on the sudden urgency that had invaded my every cell. Chandler's Field. She's there, but who is she? I tried to shake the thought, but I knew it was futile. As reluctant as I was to obey Jor-El yet again, I knew I could never let anyone die. Not if there was a chance that I might be able to rescue them. A hero's fatal flaw. My Achilles heel. My destiny.
That is why I am now headed toward Chandler's Field with Pete trailing loyally behind me. It is another mile or so, but I don't even know the word fatigue as I rush forward. Whoever you are, just hold on a little longer. Behind me, Pete stops, giving me silent permission to continue at full speed. I arrive at the windmill in seconds, climbing to the top without hesitation despite my chronic fear of heights. I'm looking around frantically for something, anything, that will lead me to my destination, and after a moment I see it. A small figure crumpled in a motionless ball of death rests toward the middle of the large pasture and I rush to reach it. I drop to my knees for the second time today and roll the limp form over, giving myself a chance to evaluate the severity of her injuries.
One of her legs are bent at an odd angle, and a quick blast of my X-ray vision confirms that it is broken. Torn jeans reveal deep, bloody wounds and blistering burn marks. Her shirt is in tatters, allowing me a view of more burns covering her stomach and the undersides of her breasts. Her face is matted with dirt and blood, and as I scrutinize a cut running from the top of her swollen right eye to the bottom of her chin, I am struck with familiarity and then incredible disbelief. It is an impossibility, a miracle and a curse. I wipe her face cautiously and wait for the illusion to evaporate as it has on countess other occasions, but it doesn't. It is still there, and I am trembling. Warmth penetrates my gut, but the hair stands up on the back of my neck. My head is swimming and I don't comprehend; I only gape in wonder.
It is the answer to my prayers.
A piece of my soul.
My angel.
Lana.