There were panels along the walls, four feet apart from the next. Clark figured they must be able to sense his presence or maybe there was someone watching from a monitor, triggering them as he passed; he didn't know. But they opened and closed as he was taken down several halls to an elevator, effectively disabling him from escaping.

The pounding in his head flared and his muscles clenched tighter with each passing moment. He felt sick with nausea and dread. It was like the green mile. Knowing what was to come but unable prevent it, each step taking him closer to the inevitable torture. Dr. Garner told him he wasn't going to torture him for information. Apparently the good doctor didn't own a dictionary because Clark definitely considered what they did to him torture.

The elevator stopped at the basement level and the doors opened to the large treatment room. Dr. Garner grabbed Clark by the shoulders and pulled him up to eye level, "I have a surprise for you." He turned around, revealing a large vertical cylinder filled with the meteorite gelatin. "This tank was not supposed to be used until we made further progress but since we have extra time today I think we should give it a try." He smiled as Clark's eyes widened; the cylinder was much larger than the other tank and glowed a brighter green. He leaned in and whispered, "How long do you think you can hold your breath?" He laughed and released his hold, letting Clark slump against the men then walked away to his office.

Clark couldn't take his eyes off the tank. They were going to put him in that? Underwater? Completely? It was huge, tall and round with electronics attached to it. Blinking white lights, reflecting against the green like tiny lightning bolts. He walked his mile and that was his electric chair.

He was being dramatic; he knew that. He was fairly certain it wouldn't kill him; Dr. Garner didn't want him dead -at least not yet- but the thought of being submerged in that terrified him. Would they tie him to the bottom? Would the solution get into his eyes or nose? Would it hurt more than the other? Probably. But did he really have to hold his breath?

His shirt catching on his nose as it was tugged off shook him from his thoughts. He hated being stripped by the men; it was humiliating. After a few uneasy glances from one of them, he kept his eyes closed. They were told, 'look if you must but don't touch him' but Clark knew a few of the soft brushes against him weren't by accident.

A shiver went down his spine.

Dr. Garner walked back into the room, dressed and sipping from a coffee mug. He stepped onto a platform near the tank where three technicians were fiddling with the computers. Without looking up he said, "Hurry up."

The men finished stripping his clothes off and took him to the shower where they quickly rinsed him clean before forcing him onto a metal table and strapping him down. It was similar to the basket used in the previous tank only it didn't have sides; there were platforms on top and at the bottom. His feet were secured to the bottom platform and his arms and chest were strapped down. He shivered against the cold steel table but his face grew warm with a flush as he felt his nipples harden from the cold. He closed his eyes; ignoring the eyes that roamed over his body and the shameless grin the man attaching monitors to his skin was giving him.

The mechanics overhead started turning and the table he was attached to began to lift from the head, slowly pulling him upright. The two men stayed by his sides and guided him toward the tank as a technician operated the pulleys from the station. It moved slowly and with every inch closer they moved Clark felt the effects of it. He pulled at his wrist restraints and jerked his body in a last desperate attempt to break free. When it stopped, hovering over the tank, he slammed his head against the metal and gritted his teeth to bite back the pain of being so close. He squeezed his eyes shut, the monitor pads attached to his temples pulling his skin. He tried to let his tightened muscles relax naturally before his strength was completely zapped by the liquid and took slow, deliberate breaths in unison with the almost calming sway of the platform.

One of the assistants climbed a latter and turned Clark to face him. He placed a black oxygen mask over Clark's nose and mouth, followed by a pair of clear goggles. Clark felt some relief that he would be able to breathe but it quickly left when Dr. Garner's voice came from a speaker near his ears, "Ready, Clark?"

Clark shook his head and choked out, "No. Please," into the mask. There was no response except for the crank of the pulleys above and then the platform dropped quickly into the tank.

The pain was instant, like putting a cold hand under a steaming hot faucet. Sharp pricks shot throughout his body, choking his muffled screams. His fists clenched, his fingernails cutting into his palms, and his wrists bruising against their restraints as he pulled with a renewed strength that was drawn from his pain and desire to be free.

"Clark," the voice was dampened under the water but he could still hear it, "try to relax."

In his disoriented thoughts, Clark scoffed at him. Relax? Yeah, right. His body shook with force, rattling the platform against the glass; he couldn't control his muscles if he wanted to.

He kept his eyes closed and tried not to fight the convulsions, to let the tremors have the control and keep his focus on breathing.

"That's good." Garner encouraged, "Now think back and take me through your childhood, to your earliest memory."

Clark tried to block him, he tried to think of recent memories, anything that would keep Garner away from what he wanted but his mind began to drift. He couldn't direct his thoughts where he wanted them, the kryptonite stripping him of his will moment by moment.

"Where are we, Clark?"

"The woods. I'm lost," the words slurred uncontrollably from his mouth, the memory vivid as if he were there again. The same fear creeping back up his spine; alone, lost, scared.

"What happened?"

"I-I ran too f-fast," his voice shook, the pain increasing. "I didn't mean to."

"Take me further."

Clark's mind twisted and he felt the dizzying effect behind his eyes; it was nauseating. His memories swirled until coming to a stop at his very first, the one Garner had previously seen.

A beautiful woman, with long blonde hair hovered over him, stroking his cheek gently. Clark could feel the love she held for him and the pain in her heart for what she was about to do. "Kal El, my sweet." Her voice soothed his shaking; it drew him further into the memory.

"Who is she, Clark?" his voice was like sandpaper against Clark's ears, breaking his focus on her.

"No," Clark said through gritted teeth. He opened his minds eye again to see her, feel her. "Mom," he said aloud but in his mind, it was a soft baby's cry. A plea for her to safe him, take him, not leave him.

"She's your mother?" Dr. Garner thought back to their first experiment. "Lara?" he asked and noticed Clark's body jerk. He pressed on, "Clark, is her name Lara?" he asked loudly.

"Stop!" Clark yelled but not in English, "Shut up!" his body jerked again and began shaking.

Garner's eyes widened at the very foreign language and he looked to his equally shocked and intrigued technicians. Noting the physical change in Clark as he became increasingly aggravated, he said to one technician, "Monitor his vitals closely. Be ready to pull him out when I say." The tech nodded and turned to his screen.

"Clark," he called again, calmer than before, ready to move on. "Move to your next memory, leave this one."

Clark shook his head. "No" he called out, desperate to stay in the calm of her presence, but he'd lost control and the swirl of his memories began again, tugging him with it. It was sickening, his mind spun and his body shook, it was like a horrible carnival ride.

Dr. Garner watched the screen that formed a virtual visual of Clark's memories in awe. A mess of red, yellow and blue spun and twisted until it cleared like a plane breaking from a cloud, revealing stars. They shot past at unbelievable speeds until a planet came into view. It was Earth. "Amazing."

His stomach knotted and suddenly he wasn't in his memories anymore. He was back in the tank, the gel searing him like acid and his body shaking forcefully against his restraints. Grunting from the pain, he opened his eyes and the room was spinning, the lime gel seemingly swarming around him like a whirlpool. The nausea that had been building rose up and having nowhere to go, it choked him, filling his nose, lungs and throat.

"Damn it! Pull him out!" he shouted, watching Clark convulse on the monitor. There was a scurry of technicians around him but he kept his focus on Clark, thinking of what he had just discovered.

Clark felt the jerk of the platform as it began to rise and the cold air against his skin. His head was light and his chest burned, he was about to pass out when the mask was pulled from his face and his vomit spilled from his mouth. He gagged and coughed while struggling to breathe. His head hung forward with his mouth open, the remnants dripping as his stomach continued to heave. His body was slack still trembling against the restraints.

Dr. Garner came into his peripheral vision and turned the platform to face and examined him for moment. Clark took as an opportunity to stare into cold gray eyes and plead with his own but he didn't find anything, no spark of compassion, no hope to cling to, nothing but dangerous ambition.

Garner's expression didn't falter and he turned away, climbed down the latter and as he walked back to his station he said, "Put him back in."

"No," Clark muttered, his eyes wide, pulling weakly at the bindings. The mask was put back on and he shook his head, "No, no, no, please don't."

The cold voice was back in the speakers, "Clark, if you show me what I want to see we can stop for today. Now, take me back to space."