Chapter 12

Clark opened his eyes.

For a second he was confused. The flat corporate looking room of the bank was replaced by vaulted stone and a massive skylight. Picturesque and beautiful matching utility with aestheticism. He knew this place. It was somewhere he had visited so many times in his dreams, but this was very different from any of those.

The stone building stood eerily silent. The air was stagnant and smelled of nothing. Broken stones littered the space, as light spread from the shattered skylight. The train station was just the same as it was that day. Except everything was grayer. Although not vibrant to begin with, the colors were muted and static, like he was looking at everything through a thin film of dust. The light was cold and remote and the entire place was absolutely empty. The family he had saved was gone, so were the people who had fled the scene of battle. His footsteps echoed throughout the building that was completely devoid of life.

How did I get here?

Clark closed his eyes and tried to remember. Everything came to him in broken images. Glowing green light, distorted faces, the flash of a gun barrel, and unbearable agony.

Looking down at his body, he tentatively searched it and found no marks nor stains on his uniform, but he was surprised to see his uniform looked washed out. He was completely uninjured. And alone.

"Hello, Kal."

He froze. That voice. He knew that voice too well, but there was no way he could be there. Clark turned around slowly in cold dread to see the owner of the voice. The man who haunted his dreams and his waking life. The man who could have singlehandedly destroyed his world, and whom Clark had destroyed.

It was Zod.

"Or do you prefer Clark? You sacrificed your Kryptonian heritage, why keep your Kryptonian name?" he asked with a cold anger.

Clark didn't answer. A thrill of fear passed through him. Although he knew that Zod could not harm him, his very presence gave him chills. Zod looked exactly the same as he had that day. Just as powerful. Just as regal. Just as solidly pronounced in the stark contrast of this world as he had been in life. He was uninjured and almost seemed healthy except for the obvious fact that he wasn't real. He couldn't be. Still Clark looked around him searching for a way out of this place. And away from him.

"There's no way out. I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

Clark ignored him and walked toward the stairs.

"There's no point."

Tuning out his voice, Clark walked stubbornly up the stairs and through the door to find himself at the top of the stairs facing the same room again.

"I told you," Zod said slightly amused. Clark glared at him before he continued ignoring him.

"I must be dreaming," he said softly, looking everywhere, but in Zod's direction.

"No, you're dead," Zod said with a voice as hard as the stone on which he sat.

Clark turned to look at him unbelieving, but Zod's smirk was all the proof he needed. A hollowness over took him. He stared at his hands which were cold and shaking. Taking stock of the rest of himself, he realized the strength that once resided there was gone. His body felt heavy, but insubstantial. It was too surreal to be anything, but the truth.

He was dead.

"I only regret I wasn't the one to dispatch you." Zod's face was emotionless. It was as if he was made of stone.

"What is this place?" Clark asked breathlessly, not really wanting the answer.

He looked around thoughtfully before he spoke. "I don't know for sure what this place is. I was never a devoutly religious man, but I imagine this is some sort of reality in between life and death. I do think I know why it takes this form, though."

Clark just stared at him expectantly. It was pointless to ignore him now.

Gesturing around him he said, "This is the place where it all started. Where you decided whom you were going to be."

Clark narrowed his eyes. "I don't understand."

He smiled coldly.

"Do you know how many lives I've ended, Kal?"

Clark shook his head. During their brief interaction, Clark had wondered, but never deeply pondered how many people Zod had killed.

"Memories of life are often vague in death, I've found. In this...purgatory, it's no different. But it's like a poetic justice for killers, memories of blood shed never fade."

Zod stood from his perch and turned away from Clark pensive, as though he was trying to calculate the number.

"I've lost count," he said surprised. "There were enough skirmishes on Krypton to fill a hundred tombs, and I'm sure I sent the majority of the occupants there. If not directly, then on my orders. Wars tend to run together. No matter how many bleed, all the blood pools in a single spot."

Clark tried and failed to cast out that mental image.

"But I do remember the first time," he said finally facing Clark with something akin to sadness in his eyes.

"I was a young man fresh out of basic training thrust into a civil unrest that had broken out on Krypton during my schooling. An anarchist group was raizing homes in the southern most sector of the planet in protest of the council's presence or something I can't really recall. Nonetheless troops were sent to stop them, and we were sent to find survivors. It was a city that I had never visited and I can't remember the name, but I do know that when we arrived, it was utter destruction. Bodies were strewn about amongst the rubble, like fruit broken on rocks; bent in unnatural ways, their last thoughts on their faces each one more horrible than the next. I was shocked and sickened and I hoped with all my heart to find someone alive.

"Desperately, I ventured out on my own to search. I was gone for what seemed like hours and found no one until I heard very faintly moaning coming not too far from me. You can't imagine my exhilaration to hear that sound. Immediately I rushed to the person."

Zod closed his eyes. "I can see him so clearly. His leg was crushed by a boulder. He was barely clinging to consciousness when I found him. He was at most my age and his eyes were a beautiful crystal blue. I was eager to help him, but I stopped when I saw his clothes. They bore the insignia of the anarchist group. His comrades had abandoned him in the fray and left him for dead. I knew he didn't have much time. He was dehydrated and was being baked in the sun, if I left him there I knew he would die..."

"Please help me," the young man begged.

Stones were strewn about, scorched and burned from plasma, and stained with the blood of so many: soldier, civilian, and anarchist alike. Bodies lain limp and broken surrounding him and the young man. It took all his focus to only look at the man, though his visage was hardly comforting.

Dru-Zod was torn between his duty as a soldier and his heart as a Kryptonian. This man was his enemy who stood for everything against the character of a true Kryptonian: acceptance of one's destiny and honor in duty to the planet and all Kryptonians. But the man was immobilized and harmless in his state. It was doubtful he would try to escape...and he was still a Kryptonian.

His heart won out and Dru swung is weapon onto his back to more easily search for something he could use as a lever to lift the boulder from the man's leg. By Rao, he found a pole nearby and away from any bodies. He was able to achieve the proper leverage to relieve the man from his confinement, but the boulder was still much too heavy for him. He was lost in his thoughts to fix the situation when he heard a stentorian voice behind him.

"Private Zod!"

He turned to see his men and his commander running down the ridge towards him and the injured man. Dru called out to them eagerly. The young man looked up in fear.

"It's alright," Dru said gently. He trusted his commander; he would know what to do. His commander walked proudly toward him, while his comrades stayed a short distance away.

"Commander, this man is trapped, but alive. I need help freeing him."

While his commander inspected the man, Dru grabbed another rod from the rubble and placed it underneath the stone for his commander, but he did not take it. Instead he looked at Dru disgusted and turned away.

"Commander?" Dru asked. Commander Tor-An gestured to Zod to come to him. He set the rods aside and looked reassuringly at the young man before joining his commander.

"We will not help this man," his commander said sternly.

"What?" Dru asked aghast.

"The only thing this man deserves is death. He should rot with his ruin," he said as he sent a glare in the man's direction.

Flabbergasted for a moment, Zod quickly regained his composure. "Commander, I think we should arrest him and bring him before the council for judgement. But first we need to help him."

"Who's the one in charge here, Private Zod?" he asked sharply.

Dru-Zod's hands were shaking. Commander Tor-An had a reputation for leading with an iron hand. Dru respected and feared him for his discipline. Still he was a warrior and a warrior had nothing if he did not have honor. A killing of this sort would be shameful to both involved.

"You are, sir. But it would be wrong to kill this man like this. We should free him from the boulder and bring him before the council."

His commander glared at him and his heart sped up.

"Private Dru Zod. Look around you. Do you not see what this man and his ilk have done?" he asked in a quiet fierce voice.

He lowered his chin a little, but stood his ground.

"Yes, sir. And before the council he will receive just judgement," he told his commander beseeching him.

"He will receive judgement," the gruff commander pushed Zod over to the man. "From you. Strike him down, Zod," he ordered.

"But sir-" He looked between him and the man on the ground desperately.

"Your job is to dispense justice. Do it!" his commander yelled.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Zod slowly pulled his weapon from his back and trained it on the man whose eyes widened in alarm and betrayal.

"Please," the man whimpered. "Please don't."

The cool metal was slippery against his sweaty hands. His heart was pounding like thunder in his ears.

His commander walked over to him and stood behind him. Dru could feel his breath on his neck as he spoke.

"Do it, Dru," he said. "He is our enemy. He ransacked a city. He murdered hundreds of thousands of innocent people. Why won't you avenge their deaths?"

Dru's muscles twitched in his face as he gripped the sides of his weapon carefully avoiding the trigger. Desperately, he turned to his commander.

"I-I can't. Commander, please!"

"Did he do this?" He gestured out to the desolate scene surrounding them.

"Yes," Dru said quietly.

"Does he not deserve to die?"

"...Yes," he said his voice barely above a whisper, "but not like this."

"Yes, like this. Kill him!" he yelled.

"No, please...," the man cried weakly.

Zod looked at his comrades pleading them to support him. If one could join his side, maybe his commander would listen. Or maybe his commander would kill them instead.

"Please...please don't..."

"Kill him!"

Zod stared into the man's eyes.

"KILL HIM!"

Suddenly a blast of energy ejected from his rifle into the prone man. Time stopped.

"...I don't even remember pulling the trigger. But I remember watching the light leave his eyes until they were hollow. Hearing his whimpering stop. I remember him become too still, and the cold weight of my gun in my hand..."

He looked at Clark with something akin to regret.

"And I remember what my commander said to me."

Zod numbly let his rifle hang at his side. His chest was tight with what he had done. He was so lost he barely registered his commander behind him until he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, Zod."

Zod looked at him pained from his words.

"Remember this: you are a protector of Krypton. In order to do your duty, you need to learn what true justice is. And although the council has it's purpose, one day you will learn it is not the authority on that. You are."

"That was the day I learned who I was. My defining moment. The first step in a long path to become whom I was meant to be: a champion for Kryptonian justice. And from that day on I knew that if justice was to be served, sacrifices had to be made," he spoke in quiet passion.

"But you didn't want to kill him; you were ordered to," Clark insisted.

"I still did it. Nothing can change that. Nothing can change anything that I've done."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because that day in this place you learned the same lesson."

Those words were like a punch to his heart. "I don't understand."

Zod smiled a little. "I haven't finished the story."

Clark leaned away, waiting, but hoping Zod wouldn't finish.

"I didn't want to kill him, you're right. But when I did...a part of me was glad. I got a taste of the dark power that taking a life gives you. And I liked it. Because although I didn't admit it then, it was true justice."

Zod walked towards him. Not menacingly, but his approach offered no comfort.

"So you may not have wanted to end my life. You didn't have a choice, really. But be honest with yourself, Clark. In your heart...deep down...you're glad I'm gone. And if you had the chance to go back and change that day, you would do exactly the same thing."

"No," Clark said defiantly. That was not true. It couldn't be.

He was inches from his face now. Clark knew that Zod wouldn't hurt him. His words were enough. "Because you know in your heart, that was true justice."

"No," he said a little more forcefully. He would never see death as that. He believed in people. He believed in second chances.

"Look at yourself, Kal-El. Really look."

Zod was staring at his chest. With dread, Clark followed his eyes to see his uniform had changed. His usual red and blue was replaced with a cold black and silver.

"No," he said desperately.

Zod smiled.

"No!"

An excruciating pain cut through his shoulder and chest. He cried out in agony until just as suddenly as it appeared, there was a release in his body. Something warm and powerful energized him, but somehow he was falling through a whirl of mist and shadow, then there was light and he could hear so many things that he couldn't recognize.

"Kal!" cried a voice. It wasn't Zod's. It was warm and lovely; she sounded so scared.

Lois.

With a rush he solidly collapsed into his body, but an aching pain still raked throughout him. With blurry eyes, he saw strange and disjointed images. Lois' head floated above him, her eyes were worried and brimming with tears. There was another person there, but her face was obscured by a shadow across it. All he could see were her eyes and he found them unusual.

"We need take him somewhere safe," said the stranger, her voice echoed in his head and it sounded vaguely familiar. He dimly wondered who it was and where they were going as he slipped back into blackness, worrying a little if he would see Zod again.