Bruce heard a crash from upstairs. He had been about to leave for work, had one hand on the door handle even, and he closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. He wasn't sure if he was ready to go back to work again anyway. He would take any reason to postpone having to see all those pitying eyes looking up at him as he walked back to his office.
As he approached Kal's room, he could tell that something was wrong. He could hear a strange sound, it sounded like panting or maybe muffled crying. He had spent months with Kal just after his escape from where he'd been held captive, and knew, before he even opened the door, that he was having a relapse.
The door swung open and revealed a familiar scene. Kal was bent double. He was hyperventilating and clutching the air in front of him, as if looking for something to support him. Bruce rushed forward and put his arm under Kal's and around his back, supporting him.
Chloe used to deal with Kal when he went to the dark place. It had very rarely been Bruce who had to sit with Kal, but when he did, he did so without hesitation and without awkwardness. He had seen his own parents killed in front of him. He was no stranger to this sort of uncontrollable fear and sadness.
Bruce guided him back to his bed. He popped off his own shoes and sat down next to Kal, both of them propped up on pillows, but Kal still bent forward as if all his spinal muscles were all contracting. His breathing seemed to slow a bit, but Bruce wasn't entirely sure. It was also possible that he only seemed calmer because they were sitting down.
"You're going to pass out," he said softly.
"I won't," Kal managed between breaths.
"Kind of wish you would," Bruce quipped and Kal barked a quick laugh before focusing his attention on his panic attack again. Bruce put his arm around back around Kal, pulling him close.
"I can't believe Chloe is fucking gone." The words left Bruce's lips before he had a chance to think about how they would affect Clark. He was supposed to be calming his friend down, not reminding him of the shitty stuff in his life. But the way they were sitting, it was the most intimacy Bruce had experienced in a long time. He would never let his friends see him grieve; he had never even really hugged any of them. Alfred was suitably British and emotionally distant, despite his presence being a constant comfort. But Bruce hadn't really verbalized his sadness over his wife's death, not to anyone.
Surprisingly, within a few moments of hearing those words, Kal was breathing normally again. He looked up slowly at Bruce, and Bruce took in his friend's pink face, glistening with sweat and tears. Kal's eyes were green, something that Bruce had come to realize meant that he had let down the divider he had built between "Clark" and "Kal." He didn't pretend to understand Kryptonian physiology, but he knew that his friend's dual personalities were some sort of complicated coping mechanism.
"I can't believe it either," Kal said, and his voice was even. "I swear I didn't know I'd lose her. I would have made different choices."
"Like sticking around?" Bruce asked.
"Yes," Kal said, without hesitation. "I thought I just needed time to heal. To move past what happened and figure out a new way of living with my secrets. I was tired of the suspicion and the distrust and having my friends literally turn on me, kidnap me, torture me, just to find out what I am."
Bruce didn't reply. Kal had settled back onto the pillows and Bruce's arm was still around his back. Bruce couldn't decide if it was okay for it to still be there. It felt like they'd moved past the moment and should go back to being proper men.
"I am so, so sorry," Kal said finally. "I should have been here. I'll honestly never forgive myself."
"Don't do that," Bruce snapped.
Kal looked over at him, both of them surprised by how close their faces were. He leaned away from Bruce a bit and said, "What?"
"Don't give yourself something else to hate yourself for. You made your choices, you did what was right for you. It's not like we can't see how fucking damaged you are. It's not like you didn't go through hell. Sure, we make comments sometimes and yeah, we all wish you were around more. It's because we miss you, and you'd be a hell of an asset to the team. So yeah, forgive yourself. I can't deal with you moping around the place, hating yourself like you were the reason she died or something."
Kal nodded, looking surprised and impressed. "Okay," he said.
"Okay?"
"You're right. I need to move forward."
"Shit." Bruce settled back onto the pillows, realizing he'd been leaning forward to inject some enthusiasm into his speech. "Didn't think it would be that easy."
"So do you want a turn?" Kal asked.
"A turn?"
"I don't know, wailing like a child. Breaking things." He pointed at the lamp that he had accidentally knocked over. Bruce noticed there was a laptop, upside down and closed, on the ground as well.
"Kind of," Bruce admitted. "But I feel like the moment has passed."
They both nodded, looking down at their knees. Bruce took his arm back.
"Sorry for being such a nutcase," Kal said.
"It's pretty much expected at this point," Bruce said. "But, I don't know, I'm not an expert, but do you think if you didn't bottle up all your feelings about your past the way you do, pretending 99% of the time like that person never existed, maybe you wouldn't have these meltdowns every few months?"
Kal was quiet as he thought about the question. "I don't have them very often, really, when I'm away from here. It's one of the reasons I stay away – it's much harder not to be him when I'm here."
"Do you really see him as a separate person?" Bruce had never met 'Clark.' Chloe had tried, over the years, to explain the difference between the two identities, but Bruce had never felt like he was missing anything by not knowing the younger version of his friend. The idea of them being two different individuals felt alien and strange to him.
"Kind of. It's complicated. When I was still living in Smallville, I was affected by this black stone, black Kryptonite, and it somehow woke up this other personality inside me. He was totally emotionless, just driven by logic and, I don't know, loyalty to my planet."
Kal took a deep breath before continuing. Bruce was nodding, curious, hoping this would help untangle some of the mystery for him.
"And then that day, Lex pulled out some of the black Kryptonite and pressed it to my chest, and it woke that other personality up again. It was like all my fear was gone. All my empathy was gone. I just wanted to be free and I wanted everyone who had hurt me to feel unimaginable pain. Life… life got simple just for a moment and within a few moments I was free. And everyone was dead."
Bruce felt his stomach clench. He'd never heard Kal talk about this before. He wasn't sure how he felt about this new knowledge. Chloe had told him that Clark had killed the people who had held him captive, but it had seemed a sensible thing when she had said it. But now, sitting next to Kal on a bed, vulnerable and human, he was filled with the understanding of his friend's inhuman strength and speed. He could kill with a look. And he had.
"But then slowly, that 'personality' became just another version of myself. Being 'him' is easier. He has a backstory and a life that's totally different than the Kryptonian who took over my body once, and which is totally different than Clark's. That backstory is so real to me now that I can recall specific memories of the upbringing Kal had, his parents, his first girlfriend, his schooling, the vacations he went on. It makes it so much easier not to think of the dark stuff that came with being Clark."
"Being back here, I guess it makes it pretty hard for you to pretend like that life is real."
Kal nodded. "Almost impossible. It feels like I'm losing myself."
Kal's hands were in fists on top of his knees and Bruce suddenly couldn't get the image out of his head of Lex's body. How it had been destroyed. He knew he would have done the same thing, faced with the same situation, but he was suddenly overcome with an emotion not dissimilar to revulsion. Bruce shuffled to the other end of the bed and stood up slowly.
"Are you going?" Kal asked. He sounded scared, vulnerable.
"I think so," he replied. "I'm not trying to abandon you, it just seems like you're doing okay."
Kal stared straight ahead. He was doing okay. But that didn't mean he wanted to be alone.
"You're not losing yourself, Kal," Bruce said. "I think you're just taking another step towards merging those two personalities. Both can be real. People move to new places, people change their names, it's normal. But it's not normal to lie to people in your life, pretend that you never were that other person. It's like you wanted Clark to commit suicide but still wanted to keep on existing."
"It wasn't suicide," Kal muttered. "Clark was murdered. If I was human, I would have died from what they did to me there. It makes sense to me that Clark stayed there, in that cage, that he died there."
"But he didn't," Bruce said, bending down to put his shoes on again. "And it's about time that you let Clark out of that cage, because it's not Lex Luthor who is keeping him there anymore."
Q
Lois stared at her computer screen, willing herself to come to some conclusion about whether she should watch the video that the Clark-lookalike had given to her.
Lana was sitting on the couch nearby and she looked briefly over her shoulder at her roommate. She never would have guessed that she would have forged a friendship with Clark's dainty and dramatic ex-girlfriend, but after Chloe had moved in with Bruce Wayne, leaving Lois with a large rent-controlled apartment in the city with an empty room, she had reached out to the only other person in Metropolis who connected her to Smallville.
She missed the small town. Despite having lived in many cities and towns all over the world during her childhood, she had never found one she connected with as much as she did Smallville. It was weird and unique; it had its secrets and its traumas. And of course, it had the Kents.
There weren't any Kents in Smallville now. But Lana reminded her of what they used to have – all of them – before everything had gone wrong.
"Do you ever think about Clark?" Lois asked.
Lana looked up from her book.
"Yeah, sometimes," she said, her voice low and measured. "But I don't blame myself for it all anymore."
Lois swiveled in her chair. "You shouldn't," she said. "It was Lex."
Lana flinched slightly at the name and Lois regretted speaking up. "I'm sorry," she said quickly.
"Why are you bringing him up now?" Lana asked. Her voice wasn't sharp, just curious.
"This is going to sound crazy," Lois said. "But I met his brother."
Lana's reaction was the opposite of what Lois had expected. She laughed. A long, deep ripple of laughter that frustrated Lois. She didn't like being laughed at.
"Kal El," Lana said. "Handsome gentleman with nice posture and good hair? Deep blue eyes like a glacial ice drift?" There was mockery in her voice still and Lois hated that she had no idea what was going on.
"He said his name was Kaleb Elliot. That's like Kal El, I guess?"
Lana put her book carefully on the coffee table and sat up, leaning conspiratorially towards Lois. "Listen, I don't bring it up because it makes me sound crazy. And I gave 'crazy' a go years ago and it just wasn't a good look." Lois nodded and gestured with her hand, indicating for Lana to go on.
"Clark was never dead. Lex captured him after the trial. He tortured him, probably came very, very close to killing him. But Clark escaped."
Lois was shaking her head. Lana did sound crazy. Everyone knew Clark was dead. But how did they know, she suddenly wondered. Because Chloe and Martha had told her it was true, and she would never doubt the two of them. Because Clark had never come back to them and Clark could never just leave them, not unless something was keeping them away.
"He escaped and he found me in the city. He was different though, he didn't seem like himself. He was stiff and almost rude. He took me back to a hotel he was staying at and we… we spent the night together. But nothing about it was like before. When we slept together before. He was different. We both were I guess. The next morning, he was gone and left me a note, saying that he wasn't coming back. He didn't die, Lois. He just left us."
If Lana was telling her the truth – and Lois wasn't sure if she believed her – that meant that the man she'd met the other day could have been Clark.
"Did you tell Martha about this?" Lois asked.
"Of course. I called Martha when Clark was still standing there and she seemed to know what was going on. She said something weird." Lana closed her eyes, trying to remember. "Something like, I can bring him to the sign? Clark said, the sign is irrelevant. He wouldn't let me call him Clark, he kept calling himself 'Kal.' He told me that Lex had hurt him too. And then he left me that note."
"What the fuck," Lois muttered. "But I met Kal yesterday. It wasn't Clark. I know Clark, I'd know him anywhere."
Lana shrugged. "I'm not crazy."
"No, I don't think you are, not at all." Lois felt a huge wave of empathy for the girl, who had lost her first boyfriend and then her husband, who had been abused and neglected, who had no family and no support during a very difficult time in her life. Lois knew that a lot of people judged her for the drinking and partying, but Lois understood wanting to forget.
"Oh," Lana muttered. "I have the note." She got up, moving slowly like she wasn't sure if this was what she wanted to do. Lois took the time when Lana was in her bedroom to pull up the contents of the disk. There was one video file.
Her stomach twisted. She knew Lana's memories from that time in her life might not be entirely reliable. However, she had described the man that Lois had met yesterday perfectly, down to the exact color of his eyes. And she knew the man's name. Was it possible that Lana had met and slept with Clark's brother years ago?
She felt her face suddenly clench in disgust. Had Kaleb Elliot pretended to be Clark in order to have sex with his brother's ex-girlfriend? Lana had said he told her his name was Kal, so maybe there really were two of them, and Lana had just refused to believe that it wasn't the man she'd been in love with. But if Kal had tricked Lana when she was vulnerable and desperate for validation and forgiveness from Clark, Lois would never be able to look him in the eye again. It felt like victimizing Lana all over again.
She double clicked on the video file and put one headphone into an ear as she waited for it to load. "Don't watch it alone," Kal had said. Lana was here. But Lois knew she could never let Lana see it, and kept the door of Lana's bedroom in her periphery as she re-settled the laptop so that the screen would be out of sight of her friend.
The screen filled with the image of a white room. The quality was pretty good, it was obvious that this video wasn't just for security purposes. Someone needed the picture to be clear.
Two men entered pushing a hospital bed. With practiced ease, they shifted the prone figure on the bed onto a medical table of some kind. They quickly fastened the man to the table using arm and leg and torso shackles. They left and Lois got a clear view of the man on the table. It was Clark, as she knew it would be. Her stomach dropped and she paused the video.
"Here," Lana said. She was standing right in front of Lois. Lois snapped the laptop shut, frustrated that she had let the video suck her in when she had intended on keeping an eye on Lana.
She reached forward and delicately took the note from Lana's outstretched hands. "There are secrets in that note," Lana said. "But obviously, if he's dead, it doesn't really matter if I keep his secrets anymore. Especially not from you."
Lana, the note read. I will always love you. I always wanted to tell you the truth: where I'm from, what I am, and now that you know I feel liberated. I wish that I could have given you what you deserve. I wish I could have stayed to hold you each time I saved your life, or explained every truth of why I had to disappear. I wish I could have taken you flying.
This time, when I leave, I can tell you the truth.
I'm going home.
I will always be indebted to you; where I'm from, people are cold and you, Lana Lang, are the source of my humanity; you have always been, and will always be the place from which I draw my conscience.
You looked too peaceful to wake.
Live free and pure and know that I am always with you.
Love forever, Clark.
Lois was quiet for a long while. "It's his handwriting," she said.
"I know," Lana whispered.
"What does he mean, he could have taken you flying?"
Lana moved away from Lois and settled herself on a nearby chair. "Clark was always… different. He'd put himself into dangerous situations to save lives, he'd do these death-defying stunts to help people. One time, I literally saw him die and then he just showed up again like nothing happened. Like, he got shot and I watched him as his heart stopped beating. Then a few hours later, he's standing there with burnt clothes and no bullet wound. I saw him tear the door of a wine cellar off its hinges. One time I fell through a skylight and he was just there, he caught me."
Lana's words were getting faster and faster as she ran through the list.
"Yeah, Clark was a bit of an odd duck," Lois admitted. "When I first met him, he was lying naked in a corn field surrounded by an honest-to-god crop circle." She let some puzzle pieces fall together in her mind. "He was acting the way you described, cold and stiff. Alien."
"Alien," Lana said, pointing at Lois's face. "Exactly."
"Well what the fuck," Lois said. "You think Smallville was an alien, and then Lex captured him and tortured him and then he got free, changed his personality and the color of his eyeballs, and has been living somewhere with all his loved ones thinking he's dead?"
Lana pressed her lips together, her eyes wide. "How crazy do I sound if I say yes?"
