Story 8: I Will Come Back to You

Author's Note:

The first part is a true gap-filler, filling in the "what could have happened" between SMWW 8 and SMWW 9.

Metropolis Then . . .

Diana helped Clark to his feet. The fact that he leaned a considerable amount of his two hundred-plus pounds on her was a testament to how hard he'd fought to regain control of his mind and body. But his weight was of little significance to Diana, not when she could lift more than fifty times his weight. Yet it was Clark's resolute statement that Doomsday was not gone, only biding his time to come back, that most disturbed Diana, more so than his uncharacteristic fatigue and weakness.

"Let's get you cleaned up a bit and into your Superman armor. I can't have you exiting the building bare chested with the House of El symbol on your chest and a pair of low-ride jeans on." Diana secured one of Clark's arms around her shoulders, while holding his waist, walking him to what was left of his bathroom. "In your current state, you actually resemble a cross between Clark Kent and Superman."

And that just wouldn't do. Being Clark Kent was too important to him for Diana to allow anything, even something as serious as this Doomsday virus, to ruin his double-life. Despite the wreck he'd made of his apartment, and, assuredly, the damage he'd done to the apartment building and the surrounding buildings with his bellow, a few moments earlier, Diana would do all in her power to contain this, to minimize the chance of anyone linking Superman to Clark Kent.

Which meant Diana had to quickly get Clark transformed into Superman and out of Clark Kent's apartment. If nothing else, if people saw Wonder Woman and Superman together in Metropolis, no matter how close they were to the scene of destruction, the most likely conclusions they would draw would have nothing to do with the former Daily Planet reporter. But first she had to get Clark suited up and airborne.

"When you throw a tantrum," she tried to joke when she entered the bathroom, hoping to lighten the mood after seeing the brutal destruction the Doom side of Clark had wrought in there, "you do a super job."

A light squeeze to her shoulder and a wan smile was his only response.

"Look, just sit here," she said, aiding Clark down onto what was left of the edge of the bathtub. "The sink and bathtub are pretty much ruined but the shower head is still intact and the pipes undamaged. Let's get a bit of water on your face and hair, smooth the hair back a bit so you'll look more like Superman and less like Clark."

Diana went to work, finding pieces of shredded towels, wetting them, and then wiping Clark's sweaty face, neck, back, and chest with the remnants. Last, she wet his hair with cool water, using her fingers as a comb and brush, pushing the damp strands off of his forehead and out of his eyes, even the forelock she loved so much.

It took all of three minutes, Diana's movements quick and determined. She could hear the sirens below, getting ever closer as the minutes ticked by. And, dammit, Batman kept snarling through their JL communicator to, "Hurry the hell up. Stop babying him and pull Clark's ass out of there before the first-responders arrive."

Batman was right, of course, the three of them needed to leave as soon as possible. But Diana had never babied Clark, and that wasn't what she was doing now. He was, however, in a questionable emotional state, having concluded that the only way to save the planet from the creature he might develop into was to die, to sacrifice himself.

By my hand.

The thought of what he wanted her to do, and what she might eventually have to do, both angered and saddened Diana. But, as she'd told Clark, they weren't there yet. A martyr's death, if Diana had her way, would not be the end of Superman, of Clark Kent. Clark would fight. He had to fight. And she would help him fight, any way she could.

Right now that meant getting him up and out of this wreck of an apartment where he'd been holed up for the last few days.

"Can you stand on your own?"

Clark nodded, then gave action to the gesture by standing and facing Diana, eyes an exhausted but alert shade of dark-blue.

"What do you need me to do? I know we have to get out of here. The police and ambulance are five minutes away."

Of course he would know that, his hearing superior to everyone she knew, including her family of gods.

"I need you to become Superman, which means getting out of those pants and into your armor."

His family crest was already in place, which would make getting dressed a quick affair as soon as he divested himself of the jeans that looked as if they'd been worn more than a couple of days.

Clark's eyes fell to his pants before lifting back to Diana, a tinge of red heating his cheeks.

"Well, umm, Diana, I'm not wearing anything under the pants." His cheeks grew even ruddier with the admission.

Diana just continued to stare at him, not comprehending why he was embarrassed and acting suddenly shy around her. Now was not the time for one of Clark's bouts of propriety.

"Would you, ah, mind turning around?"

"What?"

"Just turn, and then I'll change."

"Why?" She asked, perplexed, her voice lowering in annoyed impatience.

His crossed arms and arched brow told her Clark had no intention of getting out of his pants until Diana turned around. Sighing in frustration, Diana turned, her own arms crossing over her chest.

"This is silly. It's not as if I haven't seen you naked countless times."

"That's not the point. Seeing a man naked before and after sex is not the same as him just dropping his pants in front of you. It's different, Diana. Besides, you've already seen me as a monster, I'd rather you not see…"

Clark let the sentence trail-off, and Diana didn't push for him to finish. He was obviously feeling less than his normally assured self, being contaminated by a creature like Doomsday would have that effect on any man. Who was Diana to contradict him?

A moment later, strong arms wrapped around her waist, and an even sturdier chest pressed against her back.

Despite having precious little time to flee the vicinity before the first-responders arrived on the scene, Diana and Clark stayed like that, Clark hugging Diana to him and Diana relishing the seconds of quiet intimacy. It wouldn't last, it couldn't last. They both knew, both understood the trials and dangers of what lay before them, especially for Clark. But now was all they had, so they clung to each other, a silence that bespoke of fear, trust, and love.

His.

Hers.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"I know. But it has, and we now have to figure out how to make you better." Much easier said than done, Diana surmised, most things in the lives of people like Wonder Woman and Superman normally were.

The embrace lingered, time they didn't have slipping away from them, faster than Diana liked.

"I shouldn't be holding you like this, shouldn't be this close."

Turning in his arms, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in close, giving Clark the type of hug they both wanted, the type of hug she sensed he needed but would never dare ask of her.

And, yes, this was probably a very bad idea, Diana unsure of the medical implications of the virus to those in breathing and touching distance of Clark.

She held him tighter, uncaring in this moment for her own welfare, but she knew Clark was so she didn't prolong the hug as long as she would have liked, or as long as he needed.

"Time's up," Batman said, the harsh whip of his voice shattering the illusion of solitude and peace.

"I know. We're on our way out now. We'll be at the rendezvous spot in two minutes."

"What rendezvous spot?" Clark asked, taking Diana's hand and leading her toward a broken window.

Out they went, into the night sky, the blare of sirens closer and louder now.

A minute later, Clark and Diana landed on top of the same roof where she'd met with Bruce earlier, him informing her about Clark's infection. After a day of searching for Clark, flying to the Fortress, tracking down Lois, and meeting and speaking with Cat Grant for the first time, Diana was at her wits-end. She'd had no idea where he could have gone. Until Bruce had stated the obvious, revealing a glaring omission in Diana's single-minded approach to finding Clark.

It had never occurred to her to check Clark's apartment, despite the fact that she'd immediately gone to the Fortress, thinking he would most likely go home, if he were hurt or in trouble. The issue was that Clark had two homes, only one of which occurred to Diana. Yet Bruce had been the one to realize that Clark would've sought solace in his Metropolis home. That had given Diana pause.

Did she think of Clark as more Superman and Kal-El than Clark Kent? She didn't think so, but it was worth giving more thought. But now was not the time for such reflection. The three of them had to figure out the best place to take Clark.

Batman stood beside his one-seater plane, cowl on, lips set in a grim line. "We need to get Clark someplace safe. A place where he will be neither a danger to himself nor a danger to anyone else. I'm thinking the Batcave will do. I can monitor his vitals there and research his condition. It's isolated and off-the-radar."

Diana swiftly considered Bruce's proposal and just as quickly dismissed it.

"The Batcave won't contain him if he turns again, rages out-of-control like he did in his apartment."

"Yes, I had thought of that," Bruce said, scratching his chin in thought. "I could probably sedate Clark."

"Do you have something strong enough to sedate Superman, no less the beast inside?" was Clark's quiet, doubting question.

The answer was obvious, so Bruce didn't bother answering. Unless he was willing to weaken Clark with kryptonite, there wasn't anything the Batman had, even something created from his genius mind, that would be potent enough to sedate a Krytonian infected with a Doomsday virus.

Diana thought of Mt. Olympus and Paradise Island. Both were remote places with minimal populations, but neither was a suitable location to hold Superman. Hades would probably work. The souls of the dead, after all, couldn't be hurt by an infected Superman. But the realm wasn't suited for the type of technology and research that would be required to help Clark. And the people most capable of aiding Clark—Bruce, Cyborg, Ray Palmer, and Dr. Veritas—wouldn't be able to travel there.

Which left them with what?

"I can think of only one place that meets all of our requirements. It's remote, secure, has the latest technology Bruce and Cyborg will need, and a containment room strong enough to hold me."

Before Clark had finished, Bruce and Diana were both shaking their heads, having already figured out the location to which he was referring.

"No, Clark," Bruce said, stealing Diana's sentiments. "It's a prison, made for the likes of Lex Luthor, which was why he was put there. You're not a criminal. You don't belong there."

"You're wrong. It's exactly where I belong. I may not be a criminal mastermind like Luthor, but if I'm not stopped I'll be responsible for thousands, maybe millions, of deaths. I don't want that on my conscience, all because I'm too proud to turn myself into the authorities."

"Clark…" Diana began, her words halting when he found her hand and tugged her to him.

"You know I'm right. You saw me back there, you saw what I'm capable of, and that's probably just the beginning. I don't want to hurt anyone, Diana, but I fear I will if I'm not locked-up."

Diana shook her head, denying his words, no matter how much sense they made. He was a victim, victims didn't go to prison, weren't incarcerated for crimes they hadn't committed, might never commit.

"I don't like the idea any better than the two of you, but you both know I'm right. If this was happening to anyone other than me, this conversation would already be over, the two of you having taken me away, ensuring I was a threat to no one, not even myself." Clark's fingers laced with Diana's, his heart in his eyes when he looked at her. "I may not know precisely what's happening to me or how to stop it, but I know I'm a walking time bomb. One way or another, I need to be stopped. And if that means claiming the cell that once housed Luthor, then so be it."

Despite her utter distaste at having Clark locked away as if he were some common criminal, Clark had never been more Superman than at this very moment, putting the safety of others and his own sense of morality and justice above that of pride, comfort, self-doubt, and fear. Allowing himself to be locked away in that compound, also meant putting himself in the sights of men like Luthor and Lane, neither of whom could be trusted, as far as Diana was concerned.

Still…

"I don't like it, but you're right."

They turned to Bruce, who was already in his plane, engine coming to life with an eloquent purr. Clearly Batman had also come to terms with Clark's plan, because he disliked and mistrusted Lex Luthor as much as Diana and Clark did. But sometimes, Diana had learned from War, "The enemy at hand is worse than the enemy yet to strike. Be smart, use the one but watch both."

Lifting into the starless night sky, Clark and Diana followed the plane as it flew to the undisclosed location, their path direct, speed leisurely, almost staid, none in a rush to reach Superman's soon-to-be-prison.

Outer Space Now . . .

They had all been wrong, no place could hold an infected Superman. And now he was a threat to the United States government, a threat to humanity itself. So they'd come after him, releasing kryptonite into the air to kill him. It hadn't worked, but it did weaken Clark enough for the creature to regain control.

Then there was Hessia, a friend who had been more warrior than the healer Diana needed her to be. She'd flown her to Brazil on the slim chance that godly magic could save Clark, but Hessia had tried to kill him instead, viewing Clark as a menace to society in need of eradication.

"I must look after the world as well," Hessia had said to Diana when she'd realized she had no intention of helping to heal Clark. "All doctors perform triage, Diana. This is no different. You treat the one you can save. And If I am to save this word…then he can no longer be in it."

If Diana hadn't been so desperate to help Clark, she would have given her plan more thought and known the stance a healer like Hessia would have taken, especially after the depiction of Superman on the news by Lois Lane. A representation that was only partially true. Superman could be an enemy of the state if he kept being chased and threatened, but, if left alone, Clark would be able to master and control the beast within.

Diana believed this to be true, believed in Clark, even when most everyone else had ceased to do so. They were wrong. Hessia was wrong, and Clark, once she used her lasso to pull him up and out of the layers of kryptonite, had proven her correct, reverting back to Superman, to Clark.

But she couldn't stay in outer space with him, couldn't go much deeper into space than she already had. Becoming god of war hadn't altered her physiology. Diana was the child of a human woman, and humans, even one with a god as a father, needed oxygen to survive.

She had to return home. Where he went, Diana could not follow, and perhaps that was for the best. Sometimes a man had to find his own path, fight his own battles and then return home victorious.

"Keep home safe until I find a way to come back."

Seeing him floating there, stars surrounding him, his breathing normal and easy, reminded Diana of all the ways they were dissimilar. Yet none of that mattered one iota when it came to her feelings for the man who had invaded her heart with his sweet disposition and kind and caring soul.

"I will. We've only gone dancing once."

And she yearned for the return of that one carefree night—their lives in need of more fun times and less death and danger.

"And I didn't even show you my best moves," Clark joked, his eyes as wistful as Diana's heart, neither speaking the depth of the truth of their feelings.

"You know," she said, giving him the playful, light moment he needed before she had to go and they might never see each other again, "it did feel like you were holding back."

His smile was heartbreakingly sad but his words were strong, sure, resolute. "I will come back to you."

Diana didn't doubt he would try. Her mind told her such a promise was more wishful thinking than undeniable fact, but her heart horded the shimmer of hope, holding it tight and willing it to be true.

"I know, darling, go."

With one last look, Clark turned and flew away—from Earth, from his friends, from Diana.