Chapter Six:
"Where are we now?" Clark asked. The corridor was long, narrow and blinding white in colour. Fear skittered through Clark as he wondered if this was the tunnel that the dying claimed to see. She still held onto his hand, her grip gentle but secure at the same time. He had no option but to follow her. Gradually things came into focus and he looked around. Different things began to occur to him, the smell of the place, antiseptic, clean, clinical. As he walked along the corridor, he became aware of windows to either side of him, giving him glimpses into rooms. A bed, some essential furniture and medical equipment occupied each room. His guide paused by one window and Clark looked inside, still wondering where he was and what he was doing here. The bed was occupied by a man of less than thirty years of age, his body barely making an impression beneath the sheets. A white sheet covered him and a variety of machinery kept him alive. Clark's companion took his hand and instantly they were in the room with him. The occupant of the bed seemed so pale, his pallor melting in against the bright whiteness of his bedclothes. His hair was like a beacon though, bright coppery red. Clark scanned the face and then gasped when recognition hit him with shocking brutality. He looked at his companion in comprehension.
"This is Lex?"
She came to stand beside him and look down at the man lying on the bed. He lay effigy-like, his skin so pale that it looked as though it was carved in marble. It was the hair that had thrown him; it was cut short, kept neat. Lex lost his hair in the meteor strike. He looked back to her.
"There was no meteor strike Clark," she gently reminded him and he wondered how she was able to read his thoughts like that. He returned his attention to Lex. The barest life support kept him functioning, he just looked as though he was sleeping but Clark knew that it was much more than that.
"What happened to him?"
"He drove his Porsche off a bridge just outside of Smallville. Nobody knows how long he was under the water but his brain was starved of oxygen and he's been comatose ever since" she replied. Clark looked back at him.
"Because I wasn't there to save him" his voice was flat.
"Not your fault Clark" her voice was quiet, sympathetic and he looked at her.
"I caused the meteor strike. Because of me Lana lost her parents, more people died and even more have suffered the effects of the kryptonite"
"And people are still suffering now Clark, without you there to save them. You're not there and they still suffer, look at Martha and Jonathan, Lana, Lex even. With you in their lives they are stronger people. The meteors changed their lives in unimaginable ways but in no way was that your fault, there were no possible means to predict that this would happen" Clark just looked at her.
"You don't believe me, do you?" she took a step towards him and took one of his hands. He looked down, her hand was small, the skin soft, opalescent.
"You've seen them Clark, you've seen what their lives are like without you, are they any better? No they're not. At least with you in it, doing the good that you do then there's hope" Clark sighed and opened his mouth to speak but she placed an index finger over his lips.
"One last place to visit" she told him. He just looked at her and tightened his grip on her hand.