Chloe felt her breath tighten in her lungs the more she ran down the never-ending hallway. The muscles in her legs began to strain a bit, because with each passing second, she forced herself to run harder and faster. Each room she passed, she gave it a quick look before moving to the next one. In the meantime, she called Clark's name at the top of her lungs, knowing he would eventually hear her. One of the main reasons why she took on this risk was because of his super powers, which she knew would come in handy. Super hearing to hear her from virtually anywhere on the level, and super speed to get them out of here as quickly as possible.

Because of that, Chloe didn't think finding him would take that long, either. She assumed she would catch up with him in the first few minutes of the search. Maybe even in the first thirty seconds.

But, after five minutes in the search with no response, Chloe began to worry.

Where was he?

She finally considered her act of bravery might have actually been an act of stupidity. Because maybe he did make it out okay. And maybe I have nothing to worry about. And maybe … I made a mistake.

Chloe looked to her watch eagerly, once again seeing the same passage of time. Yup, it's been five minutes since I started searching. She knew the point of no return was approaching fast, and soon she might be forced to think about turning back if she ever wanted to survive this without Clark's aid. With just above ten minutes left until the building exploded, the decision would have to be made in the next ten seconds.

But it was a decision Chloe dreaded to make, because something instinctive told her to keep moving. To fight her fears of being swallowed up in a massive explosion. To remember why she came down here, and what drove her to such limits. Though she feared death, she also feared the possibility that Clark, for some reason, might not make it out of here. Which, she knew, might be an irrational thought. He's indestructible, I have to remember that. It's just a concept that's difficult to get used to. Especially when you're in love with him …

In love … I've always been in love with him. Always.

However, Chloe decided to do the most rational thing she could; she made a deal with herself. If she didn't find Clark in the next minute, then she would turn around and run like hell to get out of here before it was really too late.

With that promise to herself at the forefront of her mind, Chloe quickened her pace to turn the corner that appeared before her. It opened up to the right, and Chloe instantly saw the exact same thing she has seen ever since she started this search first for Lois, and now Clark; a gray hallway peppered with an endless amount of rooms on each side. Rooms with the doors secured, though never locked. The latter an interesting characteristic of the level that Chloe vowed to investigate when she was safe and sound in her apartment in Metropolis.

Or, better yet, at the Kent Farm. Lying in Clark's arms in front of his fireplace, sipping red wine, feeling his skin against hers, and whispering loving words in his ear. Telling him how deeply her heart beats for him.

Something, however, suddenly caught her eye just ahead. Enough to break her out of her current fantasy, and force her back to the present. Something she didn't expect to see.

Only twenty feet away, a door to a room was wide open, an anomaly that heightened both Chloe's excitement and suspicions. She finally felt her actions were justified, and knew, for sure, that sometime … somewhere … someplace … she and Clark would be in each other's arms again. A thought that hastened her actions, sped up her heartbeat, and reassured her that everything was going to be okay. That soon, all of this would be over, and over for good.

As Chloe ran to the room, she half expected to physically run into Clark, because it wouldn't take him long to search the space and discover Lois was not there. With his speed, he could search and leave a room in only a second's time. Of course, he could have left the room already, as well. Maybe, in his speed and efficiency, he happened to forget to close the door to the room when he left.

That was possible, too.

Above all, however, Chloe chose to think positively. Because even though she had faith in Clark and in his abilities, she still could not explain the gnawing instinct deep inside her heart. Like any good reporter, it was instinct she could not ignore, no matter how hard she tried.

If God was on their side … Chloe would see Clark standing in the room, anticipating her … as if he knew she was coming for him. Like a fairytale – which, of course, ended with him picking her up and speeding them to safety. Taking them to the rest of their lives, to the future that was set up two, long years ago. A future that, with these last two days, has quickly turned into destiny. The light at the end of the rainbow, the promise of something bigger than themselves. Something neither could explain, but needed desperately to survive.

However, when she entered the doorway to the room, what she saw in front of her was not the Clark she expected. Instead of him standing and smiling at her in return, Chloe was drilled with the image of an unconscious Clark lying alone on the floor. Green pulsed through his veins, so strong as to be seen from across the room. And suddenly, the image of their future, once reflected within the mirror of their lives, was shattered in pieces.

Chloe ran to him quickly, his name on her lips as she fell to her knees beside him, his presence like smoke dulling her eyesight, causing them to water at the edges. She pulled his head into her lap and moved a hand to his neck, and sighed in immediate, but short-lived relief when she felt his weak pulse beneath her fingertips. Though he was still alive, he certainly would not be able to get them out of here in his condition.

Only … only kryptonite can hurt him … right? …

Chloe quickly scanned the area around them, but saw no kryptonite in her immediate vision. An outcome she didn't expect, believing the source of Clark's pain would be obvious. Instinctively, she pulled him a little closer to her, as if cradling a priceless child in her arms. "Hold on, baby. It's okay," Chloe whispered, her voice drenched in grief, as she traced her fingers delicately across his right cheek. His skin was still very warm, like fire underneath her touch. She could still see the pain in his face, though he remained motionless, like a ghostly shadow cast upon him.

Though Chloe tried to keep her tears to a minimum, as an attempt to keep her mind clear, they now streamed fully down her cheeks. Her hands cupped Clark's face gently, her eyes searching there for hope. For anything to hold onto, for strength she couldn't summon on her own. "Come on, Clark. You can't leave me here without you," she began, barely a whisper above the silence. She then bent down to him, her lips to his forehead, then his cheek.

A future without him, she knew, was worse than death itself.

"I can't do this by myself."

But Chloe knew she had to do this by herself. She was the only one that could save Clark. The only one that could save their love. And she knew, further, that saving both of them meant saving Clark first. It meant finding the source of the kryptonite – or, if she must, physically dragging him out of the room entirely. If the latter must be done, she was ready to take it on, despite their obvious difference in size. Super strength did not fuel her energy, her will to do what she must.

Love was her fuel.

Kryptonite … it has to be here somewhere.

Chloe looked to her watch, seeing they now had only nine minutes to escape. Only nine minutes to find the kryptonite before it was too late. And she could already feel a bit of haste and frustration rise in her heart, realizing the kryptonite's location would not be blatantly obvious. With that in mind, she wondered if this was some kind of game for someone. Maybe somebody was watching them, knowing what would happen when she didn't find it.

However, when Chloe looked up from Clark, she saw in front of her what she didn't see before – a door. Normally, she probably would have seen it immediately upon entering the room. But, with an unconscious Clark on the floor, not to mention the door is practically camouflaged within the wall that surrounds it, it was no wonder it took her a few minutes to catch a glimpse of it.

With a smile, Chloe knew what was behind it. The door was ajar only a few feet, but it would probably be enough to expose Clark to a lethal amount of kryptonite. Chloe smiled as she stood up and raced to the door to look inside. She knew she would see the source, then close the door, lift Clark out of the room and they would soon be flying through the air. Away from danger … towards the heavens, towards everything they have waited two years to experience together.

Yet when she looked inside, the room was completely empty.

Chloe sighed in exasperation, and turned quickly around, her eyes scanning the room as she did so. The room was not that large, maybe the size of the living room in her apartment. Though the room did have a desk, a file cabinet, and a coat rack – evidence of someone's existence here – the rest of the room was completely bare. Like a scene from a 1940's gangster movie – the office of the gumshoe, decorated only in the essentials because he uses all his available time searching for his foes.

The desk across the room did have drawers, prompting Chloe to move across the room with haste to look inside of them. Yet when she pulled each one out, and threw each drawer's contents chaotically onto the floor behind her, nothing inside hinted of kryptonite. A conclusion that quickly fed Chloe pounds of helplessness and loss, fully aware that she might never find the kryptonite. Something she was not ready to accept yet, despite how futile her efforts in this situation might become.

Where was it?

Chloe turned from the desk and saw the mess she created in her drastic search. She sighed deeply and moved back over to Clark again, seeing the color in his face begin to drain a little bit at a time. In seeing that, Chloe was sure the kryptonite had to be here somewhere, its effectiveness on Clark too apparent to miss. Her mind started to think through scenarios frantically, a desperate brainstorm for anything that might help them.

Maybe she would have to physically move him from the room. As time began to tick away, Chloe could not dismiss that possibility.

In fact, Chloe knew that was exactly what she had to do.

With determination, she ran to him and reached for his arms, ready to pull him towards the door – until … until she saw it. She saw it … on his finger …

The glow of a green pulse …

So strong … so powerful …

It's waves of poison surging through Clark's veins again and again …

Chloe felt her heart leap with excitement, dropped his left arm, and moved to his right, specifically the hand, seeing the ring of kryptonite on his ring finger. She couldn't believe the source was directly under her nose the entire time; something she should have assumed before all of this frantic searching began. They could have been out of here in two seconds if she would have thought of that before. But that very latter thought – not even thinking the kryptonite might actually be on him, was the reason she never looked.

Though the ring on his finger, in her defense, was hidden rather well because it was turned the opposite way – towards the palm - she knew she really had to get the hang of this kryptonite stuff again.

With a smile, she started to remove it …

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The voice stopped Chloe's progress and forced her to look up into the shadows ahead of her. Shadows she didn't notice before, or, at least, didn't think needed attention. Through the darkness, Chloe saw an outline of a still figure watching her every move. And her assumptions of all of this possibly being a game were right on. At least I got something right, she chided quietly.

Blinking, Chloe asked angrily, "Who are you?"

The man revealed himself in two steps. And under the fluorescent light above them, Chloe saw exactly who it was.

She noticed further – he was holding a pistol.

Suddenly … everything made sense.

And in a low voice, she said his name.

"Peterson."

He smiled and pointed to the unconscious Clark. "You're better at that than he was."

Chloe fought with the idea of just taking the ring off and dealing with the consequences. But she pushed that idea aside, knowing he would not only shoot her, but also Clark, who was still very weak from his exposure. Both of them could be dead quickly if she took that chance. So with a resigned sigh, she dropped his hand gently and stood up straight, keeping her eyes glued to the man before her.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice echoing slightly in the stillness of the room around them.

Peterson shrugged. "I want Clark Kent dead."

The words chilled Chloe to the bone. But she didn't show how they affected her, and snapped, "Those are lofty aspirations."

Peterson smiled. "They told me you were feisty."

"Who told you?"

Peterson walked a little closer to them, his eyes dancing with the clear advantage he had here. Part of him wanted to tell her everything, only so she knew how screwed both she and Clark were. To remind them exactly who they were dealing with here. But he knew that would not be wise, especially under the circumstances. He looked to his watch, knowing precious seconds still ticked away. "It won't matter much in seven minutes."

Chloe smirked. "Well, when you leave, we'll be dead from the explosion, anyway. So why not tell me?" She paused to study him. "I know you want to."

Peterson shook his head. "It's something you really don't need to know." Then he pointed to Clark again and began to pace slightly. "I know what this man can do. I've seen it. And I won't leave without ensuring that everything is finished."

Chloe looked to Clark, his head now tilted a bit to the left. She then stepped around and in front of him, a move to protect Clark. Blocking him from Peterson's view. She would probably not have a chance to survive this. If anything, Clark was still their best chance. And she was willing to do whatever she needed to guard his safety. To give them both a chance.

Above all … Clark's destiny was much more important than her own.

"But if you don't hurry, you won't make it out of here yourself," Chloe pointed out, her eyes, her confidence unwavering under Peterson's relentless glare.

Peterson nodded. "You're right." A pause. He then lifted his pistol to her, seeing her eyes grow with fear in response. "But, see, I can't leave you alive, either. You've seen me. And I know what will happen if I leave you two here by yourselves. You'll make it out … somehow, you'll make it. So now … I have to kill both of you. And due to time constraints, as you've suggested, I should get this over with right now."

Chloe felt breath quickly leave her lungs in anticipation of what was sure to come. And she hoped – prayed – that something would happen. Anything to save them. Some miracle, especially since she was sure they deserved one. After everything they've been through, something had to break. Something had to step in and change the destructive course they were currently set on.

She wondered then if anything would have been different if – if she and Clark had stayed together two years ago. Would they even be here? Facing their deaths?

Maybe … maybe they would be in her apartment in Metropolis, spending the night away in each other's arms. Or maybe … maybe they would be in Clark's loft, laughing quietly in the shadows of the darkness. Laughing at how the moment took them when they least expected to. Laughing because they somehow, someway, ended up on one of his Native American blankets on the floor, wrapped up in each other to guard from the inevitable cold, night air.

Maybe … maybe they would be in their home. In their bed, watching the sun come up on some lazy, Sunday morning. Knowing they would not move from that spot the entire day.

Maybe …

Her eyes focused back on the present, on the pistol aimed directly towards her, on the clear intent weaved intricately in Peterson's eyes.

From Chloe's spot, however, she didn't see Clark behind her. Nor did Peterson. Hidden so much so that neither of them saw his eyes open slightly, and his head tilt up to see the dire situation above him. It took him only a second to realize what was happening. He heard their voices just above him, but he couldn't understand much under the fog of kryptonite. However, he did see the pistol. Though he remained weak … so weak … he knew he had to do something. Because Chloe needed him, despite the pain.

Clark closed his eyes, called on any strength he could muster, a strength that would only come from deep inside him. A strength powered by the only thing he had left – love. Love for his best friend. Love for his true lover. Love for the one that has risked everything for him. Love … for his savior.

His eyelids glided open, and, instantly, Clark blew breath as hard as he could towards Peterson's pistol. It was the one power he didn't use that often, but one that tended to come in handy when he could do nothing else. This moment was one of those times. And though his efforts didn't feel effective, because he knew how powerful his breath could be when he had full strength, Clark saw what he needed to see.

Peterson's pistol flew from his hand and across the room.

Though Chloe wasn't exactly sure how it happened, she didn't care. What she saw, above all else, was the opening she needed. And in the split second Peterson used to understand how he lost his pistol, Chloe rushed him with power behind her intentions. Wasting no time, she slammed a fist into the side of his face. Because Peterson was taken by surprise, Chloe's strike almost caused him to lose his balance as he stutter stepped back a few feet in result.

Chloe rushed him again, ready to slam him against the wall behind them, but this time Peterson caught on. He grabbed her wrists before they could do any damage, and suddenly Chloe felt herself pushed up against the wall instead. She tried to push him off of her, especially when her eyes caught on to the pistol about fifteen feet directly to her right. If I can … get to the gun, I might be able to really get rid of this guy.

Behind them, Clark fought the pain and tried to sit up, knowing Chloe needed his help now more than ever. But he could do nothing until he took off the kryptonite ring. Only then could he make a real difference. Only then could he save both he and Chloe from the imminent explosion. If he could get to Chloe with only a hint of his normal strength, they might be okay.

Because the further away I move from the kryptonite, the stronger I will become. The faster I will be.

Clark groaned a bit and lifted his head to see Chloe's progress with Peterson. Whatever advantage he gave her when he blew the gun out of Peterson's hand was only momentary. Because now he had her pushed up against the wall, rather viciously in Clark's suddenly disgusted eyes. And before he could stand to help her, he watched in vain and shock as Peterson threw Chloe towards the adjacent, left wall almost twenty feet away. She fell roughly on her side, and her head hit the ground with a loud thud. An injury that quickly sent her into unconsciousness.

Anger suddenly fueled Clark's heart, and with a loud groan, gritting his teeth to help him with the pain, he pulled the kryptonite ring off of his finger – and threw it quickly to the other side of the room. Though still very weak, he stood, and watched as Peterson rushed to the pistol ten feet in front of Chloe's lifeless body. An act, Clark knew, might be both he and Chloe's undoing if Peterson reached the pistol first.

As if automatically, despite his weakness, Clark rushed Peterson as fast as he could – a bit faster than normal human speed. At least I have some of my abilities back. The effects of the kryptonite lingered, however - it's venomous presence still like oil in his blood. But he tried desperately to ignore it, to remember that Chloe needed him. His best efforts were needed, no matter what the outcome. Just so, when it was all over, he knew he did everything he could.

Suddenly, Clark's thoughts were broken up by the here and now. Despite his speed, he could not catch up to Peterson before he grabbed the pistol. Yet Clark did prevent him from doing anything useful with it by picking Peterson up and throwing him against the wall. Though he felt stronger, able to punch him a few times across the face, Clark could not keep his balance well when Peterson pushed him, sending both of them flying back hard against the floor below. He yelped when he landed, his back screaming in pain.

Clark quickly felt a bit winded and a little disoriented due to the fall, his head swirling about, the room turning above him like a tornado. He knew he would still be slightly vulnerable to Peterson's own attacks due to his length of exposure to the kryptonite. Invulnerability was always the last to restore itself completely in his equilibrium once his poison was taken away.

Peterson had landed next to him, losing the pistol when he hit the ground. He watched with disgust as it flew forward a few feet away. Before he scrambled for it, however, he knew it was in his best interest to handicap Clark when the chance arose. So he moved quickly beside Clark and punched him across the face and the stomach a few times, instantly surprised to see blood ooze from the younger man's lip. Once he disoriented his opponent further, he could then go after the gun and end this quickly.

Clark couldn't move much, still dizzy from the fall, and now by Peterson's dulling strikes to his face and stomach. It took him a few seconds to realize his assailant was suddenly gone, precious seconds he knew might be his own downfall. I need to keep up with the fight. Any slip … any mistake, and both Chloe and I are finished for good.

With that thought strong in his mind, Clark quickly stood to see Peterson on the other side of the room, gun in hand, pointed directly at him.

"You put up a good fight, Mr. Kent. I think you are what they said you were," Peterson replied, smiling at the fact that he actually wounded the stronger man standing before him.

The smile grew larger as he pulled the trigger.

The shot rang loudly – echoed against the walls around them. And quickly Clark felt himself drift into slow motion, could see the bullet coming towards him second by second. When it came upon him, however, he had enough strength left to dodge it, then run quickly to the unknowing Peterson ahead of him. Instead of stopping his speed, Clark kept it up, and rammed his shoulder directly into Peterson's chest, sending them across the room and against the far wall.

They landed there with a loud crash, and when Clark looked up finally, he could see the clear pain in Peterson's eyes. He also felt the gun was still between them, and Clark moved his hands to fight for it. Peterson, however, held onto it tightly, and refused to let go, even when Clark nailed his elbow across his mouth to gain some advantage. With his hands immobilized between his body and his assailants, Peterson did the only thing he could.

He pulled the trigger again.

Clark looked to him with surprise; almost certain he would feel pain deep in his gut due to the bullet. But instead, he watched with a tinge of satisfaction, as Peterson fell motionless to the ground. The bullet, however, did not hit Peterson in the stomach. It hit him straight in the heart, and Clark knew he didn't have to check for sure. He knew he could leave here, knowing his secret was safe. Knowing he and Chloe would probably make it out of here, as long as he hurried.

He knew life would be okay now.

Because James Peterson was dead.

Clark looked to his watch – five minutes to go - and did not take an extra second more. He sped quickly to Chloe, picked her up protectively in his arms, and ran like a speeding bullet out of the room.

------------------------------------------------

Lois watched as Lex led them to a door on the main level – the door that would lead them to the outside. To safety, finally, after days of unbearable captivity. Though she was known for getting into trouble often, this time Lois knew she really bit the bullet. She stretched nine lives as far as they would go, and was alive to talk about it. To write about it, actually. And would she have a lot to say. Especially if Chloe and Clark did not make it.

Chloe … Clark …

Lex led them out the door and into the night air, humid as it was. Lois could feel the sweat across her brow and on her neck, but gave it no more attention than that. Would only stop when they were yards and yards away from the inevitable explosion. Just as she wished, Lex ran across the street, and then into the tall, vacant lots of grass and concrete to hide behind the building that sat forty feet in front of the warehouse. It would be a good spot to wait, to watch, to see if their friends made it out okay.

In seconds, Lex, Lana, and Lois stopped about twenty yards behind the building they would use as a shield against the blast. All three looked towards the warehouse. All three, anxious to see if they made a mistake leaving Chloe behind. All three waiting to see if they would ever see their friends again.

Lana looked to her watch, noting a minute had gone by. Now four minutes left, she thought sadly, cursing herself for not pushing Chloe to follow them. Or, better yet, push to help her find Clark. She loved Chloe so much, her friendship so very dear to her heart.

But, knowing Clark was in there, too, and possibly fighting for his life … Lana couldn't place it, really. The feelings inside of her. The feelings that found a new existence. New life. And though she wished nothing but happiness for Clark and Chloe, she also could not fight the pang of jealousy that suddenly surged through her heart. However, Lana knew that wasn't fair. She needed to give her friends the chance to make their special relationship happen.

That is … if they made it out of this at all.

And the pang of jealousy that Lana once felt was soon replaced by disgust and deep sadness. Over all, Chloe and Clark were her two best friends. Have been since high school.

She couldn't bear to think of a life without them.

Beside her, Lois sighed deeply. And in a hushed whisper, pleaded, "Chloe … Clark … where are you?"

Lana began to cry.

They weren't following them, like each had hoped. And she said the words no one else dared to.

"I don't think they're going to make it."

To be continued in next section …