Lana ran to Lex, throwing herself into his arms. It was nearly dark in Geneva now, the stars just starting to twinkle. The flight on Bruce's jet had been pleasant enough, but somewhere over the Atlantic, Lana had been filled with the fiercest desire to go back, something inside her telling her that something in Smallville was very definitely wrong, that leaving was a mistake. Since the days of Countess Isabelle Theroux, Lana often had flashes of insight. But, when she saw Lex, a solitary figure in dark clothes, that intuition vanished, and was replaced with the knowledge that she was, indeed, in the place she needed to be. Lana kissed Lex fiercely, possessively and he responded in kind. Breaking the kiss, Lex blinked and caught his breath. Until he'd actually seen her getting off the plane, Lex had no idea how much he'd missed having Lana with him. Bruce's words earlier haunted him. Lana was indeed, the best part of Lex – he could be with her the person he had almost forgotten about.
"Hey, hey." Lex smiled down at her. "Are you alright?"
Lana nodded, smiling back. "I'm just so glad to see you. How's Lionel?"
"He's going to be okay." Lex said, taking her hand and walking with her to the waiting limousine. "He's still unconscious, but the doctors said he'll be back to normal in no time." He smiled reassuringly, keeping from Lana the actual facts of his father's situation.
Lionel was far from 'normal'. . Lionel Luthor should have been dead when that vault door opened. Every single drop of his blood had been poured from his body. A miracle had occurred when his only son forced his way down to that vault. A miracle that the pious nuns and nurses of the Geneva hospital whispered about amongst themselves in the hallways. His treatment had been standard for shock, normal for extreme blood loss. The transfusions continued until a rejection reaction began, causing yet another crisis. One would think the pain of a blood transfusion reaction would be powerful, one would think the fever, the sweats and the rash would be agony. And, for the most part, that guess would be right. The international team of doctors attending Lionel Luthor were absolutely baffled. He had every negative symptom; his kidneys had even begun to fail. However, the expression on his face was one of absolute joy. His pupils were so dilated, no color could be identified, they were just empty pools of black. The nurses, fluent in French, understood his words, as did the doctors from Italy, Germany and England. They understood the words, but not the import. It wasn't for simple superstition that the old nuns who sat with him while he raved made the sign of the cross over their somber habits. And perhaps, if Lionel could think, he'd appreciate that irony. A miraculous rescue from the brink of death to predict the doom of mankind. A delicious irony, indeed, one Lionel Luthor would have enjoyed tremendously.
"The portal is open…the portal is open…Zod is coming…."
It was no accident that Martha was sitting by the phone. She had been waiting for anyone to call her, Bruce, Clark, Lana – anyone. Her father was asleep in his chair, the Wall Street Journal draped over his chest, little snores bursting from him like runaway bees. Shelby had taken over the deep red hearth rug, and her father's cat, Darrow, slept, with both ears in the direction of the gentle golden retriever, on the sun splashed window seat. Her cell phone rang, and she snatched it to her ear, desperate for news.
"Hello?" Martha felt her throat close.
"It's Bruce." Bruce Wayne's rich baritone voice made Martha breathe again. He hesitated, and asked, softer, like Clark would have. "Martha, are you okay?"
"I'm fine…."She sighed. "We're fine. Have you heard from Clark?"
"No, not yet." Bruce's voice was far away. "We will though."
"How can you be so sure?" Martha asked frantically, dropping her voice. She'd lost too much this year to take this situation for granted. "How can you possibly know?"
"I know, because I know people, Martha." Bruce said simply. 'And Clark is, well, Clark." He chuckled. "Would it mean anything to you if I said that he reminded me of my father?"
Martha smiled. "I didn't know your father, Bruce. But if he was anything like you seem to be, then he must have been a good man."
"He was. Better than me. Purer, cleaner, less complicated. Like Clark." Bruce's voice did soften, and Martha wanted to hug him. "Dad preferred to believe in people too. Like your late husband." She wanted to ask him if he was okay, but suddenly, Bruce was all business again. "Lois is fine, her arm was broken, struggling with Fine. She said she hurt the same side a month ago."
"Poor Lois. Should I come back?" Martha asked. "I can be back by ten."
"She's sleeping now. I'm staying here. She won't be alone." Bruce said, looking over his shoulder at Lois.
"Okay. Bruce, please." Martha wiped her eyes. "If you hear from Clark or Chloe…"
"You'll be the first to know, I swear." Bruce finished. "Take care, Martha."
"You too, " Martha hung up, holding the phone to her chest, willing her heart to stop pounding so loudly, willing her lungs to keep her supplied with air. If ever there was a time to trust Clark, it was now.
"Kal-El, your compassion for these lesser creatures is beneath you. Living among them has made you weak." Zod's voice issued from the deep black hole, all trace of similarity to Jor-El's gone now. Zod's voice was the voice of a warrior, a man raised on blood and murder.
Clark rose to his feet. "They are not weak. And I am not less for being among them, Zod."
"That remains to be seen." Zod said, emerging head and shoulders from the hole. Clark found himself at a complete loss. Zod was taller even than Clark was, massive. His hair, long and impossibly black, was streaked with white, his skin a deathly pallor from which his eyes, a ghoulish red brown like dried blood, glowed like coals. Dressed in armor, Zod was everything Clark would have imagined and worse. Zod was the very image Clark had always thought of when he'd imagined Satan as a child, and now, he understood why.
Chloe could not see. She could not really hear, either. Around her, she could sense Clark, a blur of blue and red, standing defiantly, facing the void. The void she could see. Chloe could see into it, through it and around it. She could see Lionel, observing the goings on from his hospital bed in Geneva, Martha quietly sobbing with a grey cat on her lap, Lana and Lex locked in an embrace of such complete abandon that Chloe, even in her newly detached state, could feel a blush on her cheeks. She could see Bruce Wayne, his new and unwelcome feelings of tenderness of her ascerbic cousin at war with the realities of his life in Gotham City. Chloe could see all of it, the beauty and majesty of humanity, and she sent those thoughts to Clark, not knowing if he could sense them. And then she could see something else, something else that Clark didn't see. Something closer and treacherous. Fine was moving ever so slowly toward where Clark and Zod stood, ready for a surprise attack. Her hand felt the laptop, the primitive technology she and Clark had giggled about together so long ago. She touched it, and with her mind probed the contents until she found what she was looking for, the promised e-mail from Bruce. He still had his part to play in this drama, and Chloe was going to deliver the blow for him. She lifted the computer, and then felt herself rise, the virus downloading itself into her brain, coiled to spring, like a cobra.
"You." She pointed at Fine. Lara's voice, Chloe's voice merged together into a tinkling of bells and crytal chimes, beautiful and terrible. "You creation of madness. Face the justice of the council of Krypton. You are not immune, you have earned your punishment." Fine turned. His eyes registered shock, but did not completely understand until he was enveloped by the sound of Chloe's voice, as it translated the computer virus Bruce Wayne had written in Smallville, miles and miles away into his central processors. But by then, it was too late. Fine had run out of time.
"It is not possible….it is not possible…" He repeated, his body dissolving into a puddle of quicksilver on the white, white floor. "too primitive.."
In a rush, Chloe felt her mind being emptied, her soul being released from the grasp the crystal had kept on her. Please, please…she wailed silently, don't make me leave him…it's too soon, anything, anything. But the emptiness that followed as the crystal left her body was worse, it was losing her mother all over again, saying goodbye to her father as he moved across the country to his new job, leaving her at MetU alone, dropping flowers on her Aunt Elaine's casket. Chloe collapsed into the snow, falling to her knees, crystal in hand, breaths coming hard and heavy. Looking down, she saw the crystal, Lara's gift, pulsing in her hand. Her mind was her own again. She gasped, and Zod turned his attention from Clark to study her. His face was beautiful, too. God, were they all like carved angels on Krypton? Chloe rose, and lifted her chin rebelliously. Her eyes, clear and mossy hazel, shone with the brilliance of a forest pool in the afternoon. She was home, she was herself. And she was going to fall down. Chloe caught herself on the console and eased herself to sit down in the snow. Clark still stood between her and Zod, his red jacketed back a fortress of her own.
"Look how delicate and frail they are, Kal-El. Join me." Zod held out a hand. "Jor-El banished you, the same as he did me. We are the same." The warriors voice was like silk.
Clark looked back at Chloe, and smiled at her. "We are not the same, Zod. And we never will be." He turned back to Zod. "And you will not harm one of these people, not today, or any other day."
"You dare defy me?" Zod chuckled. "You are still young, not full grown. How will you defeat me?" The tyrant took a step out into the Fortress, and around them, the walls began to shake. "The very fiber of your world fears me."
"Clark!" Chloe threw the crystal to him, and it blazed again in a glory of light, a barrier of delicate beauty between Clark and Zod. Clark caught it, and it's light reflected in the polished shield he held. He did not falter, his green eyes blazed and did not waver.
"You are hereby sentenced to the Phantom Zone, Zod, for crimes committed against every living creature on Krypton. You are sentenced to the Phantom Zone for your plot to take over the Earth" Clark's voice was suddenly richer, deeper, and Chloe saw, a flash of insight, the man he would become. "You are sentenced to the Phantom Zone for your betrayal of your race." The shield flashed, and began to spin.
Zod laughed. "Jor-El could not contain me forever, boy. What makes you think you can?" A band of silvery white light had wrapped itself around him, and he waved it away like a smoke ring. But more light wrapped itself around Zod, until he could not struggle free at all.
"I have my whole life to keep you there." Clark said, grasping the shield again and then tossing it. It flashed brilliantly, and came to rest over Zod. The larger, black hole had begun to recede, shrinking away from the light of the crystal and shield, until it eventually vanished completely.
"Kal-El! Think! Together we can rule this world like gods…"Zod's voice boomed through the Fortress, causing chunks of ice to fall the ground and crash with thunderous impact. "There is nothing you could not have…"
"Give me back my father, give me back the lives you stole." Clark's voice was sad, wise, and oddly compassionate. "Give me back the years I lost with Jor-El and Lara. Give me back Jonathan Kent."
"FOOL!" Zod railed, struggling against his bonds. "You speak of love. Weakness. There is Power in pain, in loss."
Clark closed his eyes. "There is no greater power than love, no greater cause than justice."
"There is strength.." Zod said, seeming to measure his words. "in victory"
"Only when tempered by mercy." Clark replied, pointing the crystal at Zod. "Perhaps some more time in the Phantom Zone will give you time to reflect on that."
The shield swooped around Zod, swirling around him until Chloe swore she could see many, many of the same shield. And then, Clark raised the crystal over his head, causing the opalescent light to flood the Fortress. All Chloe could hear was Clark's voice, in the brightness of all that white light "And my time here, with human beings has taught me that like no wisdom from Krypton ever could." Chloe closed her eyes against the brightness of that light – her hands over her eyes could barely stop it from making the inside of her eyelids glow red. The wind was unbearable, and Chloe fell into the snow, her cheek against the icy floor.
She woke up, cradled in Clark's arms, a gentle breeze blowing her hair from her face. Opening her eyes, she saw they were flying slowly, gliding, really. It was nearly night, the sky a clear and perfect shade of deep blue.
"Hey." Clark said gently, seeing her wake up. He smiled at her, and Chloe blinked twice, throwing her arms around his neck. "You're up."
"Where are we?" Chloe asked, looking down, and then closing her eyes again, swallowing deeply.
Clark laughed. "Did you look down? After everything that's happened today, you're scared NOW?" He held her a little tighter anyway, and Chloe opened her eyes again.
"Yeah…"She wailed. "I did. Tell me where we are."
"We're over Alaska, somewhere." Clark told her. "I saw some polar bears and their cubs just before you woke up." The way he said it, it was as if he'd seen rabbits playing in his cornfield at home, as ordinary as pie. "Chloe, you're flying." His voice was full of awe, like a child at Christmas offering their mother the most special gift they could imagine.
"I have to be dreaming." She gasped, "It's amazing. I feel like Wendy." She laughed out loud, and it echoed across the snowy landscape joyfully. Too much had happened, Chloe thought, and she knew that she and Clark would talk about all of it until they had put every last thing behind them, but now, she had never felt quite so alive in her life. Or so overwhelmingly in love with the young man who held her as they sailed through the clouds.
"Well,..um,Wendy." Clark cleared his throat. "You have to have a happy thought to fly. What is it?"
"My happy thought?" Chloe pretended to think. "My happy thought was you."
Clark looked at her, his eyes full. He sighed deeply, kissed her briefly, and nodded. "I'm glad."
"Hey, wait a minute, there, Peter Pan, what's YOUR happy thought?" Chloe whispered into his neck, reveling in the scent of him, forever hay, sunshine and apples.
"My happy thought? Come on, Chloe.." Clark smiled. "You are always my happy thought, even when things are at their worst. I thought you knew that."
"Well, I do now, Superman. I do now." Chloe nodded, her heart full to overflowing.
