Chapter 22 [Luthor Mansion 2018]

Clark strained to open his eyes. He felt so drained and weak. His blood burned from the Kryptonite poisoning. He wanted sleep. The image of Lana being happy lightened his heart but tired him further. A stray tear creased his cheek….

…he missed her so much….

If he just went to sleep, he could go and find her.

Not yet, Clark.

He opened his eyes a crack to see Lana floating in the air above him. "La…na?" he whispered.

The others are planning something special. Just a bit longer. Okay? Remember our special celebration? They're planning one for you now. She smiled warmly letting her eyes sparkle at him. I'm with you. I love you.

"I…love…you," he muttered as she vanished from the room. He opened his eyes fully to take in what seemed like a staging area around himself.

Emerald and scarlet streamers cascaded about the rafters A couple of small tables with accompanying chairs sat only a few feet from his bed. A ten foot tall balsam fir stood in the area's center while being fitted by Pete, Sam and Byron with its decorations. He could see his mother speaking with some dark suited man about something at a long table lined with covered containers. "Wow. Looks great, Guys," he made himself say with great effort.

Pete dropped his tinsel at the voice's sound. "Hey, Clark! Just a sec! Sam, come on!" He took her hand and hustled them over to his friend's side.

"You came?" Clark whispered huskily.

Pete clasped his hand firmly. "Like we'd stay away? Not a chance, Dude. I've seen you like this before, remember?"

Sam looked around before leaning close to him. "Besides Lana herself tipped us off. I don't understand it but we followed her lead."

She does this for me again. Clark sighed while fighting off a spasm. Pain burned through his system.

Sandra came running into the room and checked the diagnostics screen. She opened the drawer on Clark's nightstand and grabbed a syringe. "The doses are getting higher. We won't have enough to get him through tonight at this pace," she reported into a blue tooth device on her ear. Then she injected the purple liquid into the patient's IV and caught her breath.

Martha, Reardon and Lex approached purposefully; each with an alarmed look on their respective faces.

"I thought we only dosed every four hours to ration it out," Lex presumed.

"The readings were becoming more erratic, Mr. Luthor. Mr. Kent is degenerating faster than we anticipated," Reardon reported. "I told Mrs. Moore to administer that dose."

"At least Clark can celebrate with us tonight with minimal pain," Martha insisted. She eyed the billionaire. "Thank you, Lex, for allowing Clark this at least."

"It's a small thing," Lex noted. "You all might wish to know that the Parasite and Metallo have been taken into custody. Apparently the Justice League caught up with them hours ago. You're going to get your justice after all, it seems."

Clark stifled a sarcastic chuckle. "You…think so, Lex?" He inhaled deeply before coughing furiously. "You're…the last person to talk about…justice."

"We did always see things differently, Clark. Don't worry. I'll make sure it doesn't turn into a lynching," Lex assured the patient.

"You do that, Lex. You're really good at doing spin control. Always were," Pete accused. He glared at the host's gloved right hand. "Remember what caused you to get that fake hand? You used a damn ring against him like that!"

"Pete, stop," Sam countered.

"I did because he made it necessary. I had to protect myself," Lex affirmed.

"No, Sam, I have to say it. He has to hear it. Metallo did the same thing! That's why Clark is dying! What part of that don't you get?" Pete insisted. "You showed them Clark's Achilles heel! And you come off like this? Unreal!" He swiped his hand across his eyes refusing to let the billionaire to see his tears or show any weakness.

"I did what I had to," Lex reiterated almost robotically. "I'll let you all be alone since you feel that way. Dr. Reardon, update me on his condition if you would?" With that he wheeled around and left the room.

"Pete, he is letting us have this day with Clark. I know you're right but was it the time?" Martha queried with concern.

"Sorry, Mrs. Kent. I can't stand to hear him talk about justice when he's worse than those SOBs! He has that hand because he did the same thing to Clark! Wish he could've kept his mouth shut on that one," Pete apologized although he allowed his feelings some freedom in the process.

"I do not blame you, Pete," Byron supported tersely. "And I have my reasons as well."

"Please, Pete. Let's calm down. You too, Byron," Martha pleaded not wanting to ruin the event altogether.

"Okay, Mrs. K. I'm just grateful I get to see my main man for Christmas," Pete relented while rubbing Clark's shoulder supportively.

"Glad you're…here too, Pete. Love you, Mom," Clark whispered low.

"Love you, Baby," Martha managed to tell him in broken tones. She grasped Pete's hand feeling glad for his support. She set her ear to his chest.

Clark frowned as if embarrassed by the death watch vigil. He sucked in a couple of weak breaths before urging, "I'd…like to see you all enjoying yourselves. Food should…be good at least. Let me…enjoy that. Okay?"

The group relented while lining up for the feast. While they weren't very hungry, they wouldn't deny Clark's request in that regard. As the covers came off, they saw heaping piles of turkey and roast beef, stuffing, mashed potatoes, beef gravy and string beans steaming in their containers. They each took a fine China plate and filled it with as much as they could manage. Then they took their seats.

"Sam?" Clark requested. "Did you bring your…violin?"

"As you requested." She walked over to the side of the room where her violin case rested against the wall. She opened it and set her violin and the bow on an empty table. She tuned the strings methodically checking their tautness and warming the bow against them for rhythmic purposes as the others took their seats. "Any requests?"

"Just play that Brahms you played for the reception please. Is…that…okay?" Clark inquired.

"Of course. I know the one indeed." She began to softly run her bow across the strings serenading the ears in the room with the delicate music. She floated on the music hoping that her artistry would dispel the pain clearly hanging in the room. When she'd finished with that piece, she moved onto another and then another…..

Clark, for his part, floated on the music. Rather than the pain, his mind moved backward once more…back to their last major celebration…back when that music was new….

…back when his dream came true if only for a short time…..