Chapter 25 - Rekindled by Intervals of Absence

Chapter Summary

Previously, Vash begged the vengeful Fris father not to kill the Polo boy. Meryl finally found Vash, who immediately collapsed from exhaustion.

Now, friends finally reunite, but they can't celebrate yet. And an unexpected third party arrives on the sandsteamer—are they friends or foes?

The world was a complete blur. And for a moment, it felt like Lois's stomach was miles away. Oh, and her whiplashed brain, too.

And then everything rubberbanded back into place. A sensation no less disorienting.

And she was up. In the sky.

The sky, which was seconds ago full of gray-brown clouds and raging winds, was now a peaceful, sunny blue.

She grasped onto the form holding her for dear life, a shrill cry leaving her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut and curled up instinctively.

A familiar squawking to Lois's left accompanied her yelp at the same time.

"Lois?! Jimmy?! What are—? How did—?" The deep, baritone voice rose in pitch with disbelief.

Lois peeled away and peeked open an eye again, hearing her name. A swath of blue and hints of red and yellow-gold rested in front of her face.

She snapped her gaze up, and glowing sky-blue eyes stared back. Blue eyes set on an oh-so-familiar face of someone tall, dark, and handsome.

Lois tried to speak, but all that came out was a half-laugh, half-sob. Totally unlady-like. Ugh, she was not about to start ugly crying!

"Clarkkkkkk! Omigosh! It's really you, buddy!" Jimmy nuzzled into Clark's broad chest. He wrapped one arm around Clark and the other around Lois as best he could reach and squeezed them in a fierce hug.

Clark spun higher and higher into the blue, blue sky. His red cloak twirled around them in the lightest of breeze.

Lois could feel the rumble in Clark's chest as he began to laugh tearily as well.

"It's me. Please tell me this isn't another dream. You both are really here?" Clark asked, a huge smile growing on his face. But then it dropped into a frown. "Wait… What are you doing here? How are you here?"

Lois pulled an arm out of Clark's firm grip around her waist. She wiped her face with a sleeve.

With a shit-eating smirk, Lois gave his bicep a good, hard pinch. (She'd learned that, on an average day, while even a bullet couldn't piece his skin of steel, a pinch, lovetap, or tickle somehow got through to her dense alien boyfriend.)

"Hey! What was that for?" Clark asked with a puppy-dog pout. It didn't last long; his smile couldn't be contained.

"See? Not a dream!" Lois replied, so matter of fact. "And I think we should be asking you that! Clark! We… We thought we were gonna lose you. Again…" Her voice cracked—the joy of finding him overpowered by all the emotions she'd bottled up while looking for him.

"What she said! Weren't you listening when I clearly stated, 'Don't ever do that to us again!' and 'I'm never letting you go again!'? And then you just sneak off and leave us high and dry?" Jimmy's hand gestures flew around wildly, making Lois lean away in fear of getting slapped.

"Oh… Jimmy… Lois…" Clark whispered. Their ascent into the air came to a steady halt. Slowly, Clark began to descend instead.

"I'm sorry… I…" Clark pulled them tightly yet gently into his embrace. He rested his head on Lois's cool, black hair.

Lois could feel how he went from loose to tense to loose again, silently working through his own feelings.

"Clark, hey, look at me, please?" Lois said softly, pulling away from his chest to catch his gaze again.

He reluctantly opened his eyes. His brows and mouth wavered with guilt. His whole expression and body language spoke of how lost he must've felt.

"I just wanted to—" he began.

"—to help?" Lois finished for him.

He gulped and gave a tiny nod, looking away. His cowboy hat shaded his face.

Lois wanted to roll her eyes, but instead, she reached up and cupped his cheek. She pulled a little to get him to look back at her.

"As much as we worried, we know you, Clark. Don't ever stop helping." She waited until his eyes again met hers. "Don't ever stop being you."

And before she could say another word, Clark leaned in, stealing the words right out of her. His kiss was so gentle and passionate and it was fireworks all over again.

Had it really only been a few days?

Lois tugged him down further, hand brushing through his soft, black hair. Lois wanted more. She wanted to deepen the kiss and never let him go again.

"Ahemememem!"

Lois and Clark jumped back as far as they could while embracing in mid-air.

Oh crap, Jimmy. Aaha…

"Yeesh, get a room!" Jimmy whined, covering his eyes with a hand. Lois could still see his weasel-like smirk though.

Lois felt like her cheeks must've been as red as Clark's cape. Clark's face was redder, if that was even possible.

A second of awkwardness passed, and then Jimmy began to giggle. His giggle turned into a belly laugh, and he resumed snuggling into Clark like he was a giant teddy bear.

Lois and Clark couldn't help it. The laughter was contagious. All three were floating hundreds of feet up in the sky on another planet, laughing their heads off.

What a totally normal reunion.

—Truth and Justice—

"Shortstuff! Shutterbug!" Wolfwood called, jogging down the stretch of Ripmela's steamer port. "Oh, for cryin' out loud! I look away for half a second, and they disappear inta thin air."

The longer he searched, the worse the sandstorm raged. Wolfwood could barely see his hand in front of his face by now.

And the gales were strong enough to yank him around, even weighed down with Punisher over his shoulder. Loose objects already smashed into his face twice, and he almost lost an eye both times.

Damnit, why'd I have to go and lose my shades?

At this rate, it'd be no use looking for the twerps if he got knocked out or carried away into the sand sea.

The only real shelter he figured would be sneaking into the sandsteamer. Plus, he'd have to track down Needle Noggin anyway.

So, with a string of curses and a wave of guilt for not keeping the Earthlings safe, Wolfwood trudged his way in the general direction of the steamer.

Luckily, most of the feds finished corralling all the passengers back into the city proper. The rest were preoccupied with hauling hijackers into prisoner wagons.

Along with the distracted feds, the stormy cloud cover made it dark enough that slipping into the vessel would be a piece of cake.

Wolfwood hopped over the barrier and began skirting around the remaining feds. He was halfway to the steamer when it suddenly got so dark he'd thought the suns had set. From above, Wolfwood heard an almost imperceptible humming mixed in with the howling winds.

He raised a hand over his unshaded eyes, squinted, and gazed up. "Holy shi—"

—

Wolfwood wasn't so fond of sandsteamers after his first and only voyage. Just being inside felt suffocating.

He felt like crap enough as it was.

Thank the freakin' Lord he didn't have to go up on the exterior deck. Would he have seen a ghost? Or was his brother's soul still truly within a living, breathing body?

Instead, he wandered through the dark bowels of the steamer. A blond dolt he knew for sure was back from the dead waited somewhere ahead.

It wasn't hard to guess where the damn Fris's hunkered down with all the knocked-out men littering the corridors. Wolfwood could care less to check if they were alright. Knowing Blondie, they were just snoozing away.

Tch. Typical.

Someone must've finally come to their senses and turned off the damn PA system. It'd been awfully quiet since Needle Noggin's pathetic pleading.

Wolfwood wondered what happened in the end. Would he find a bloody corpse and a man holding a smoking gun? Or did the Fris man show mercy for "Scumbag Slater"?

Maybe that Polo kid should've got what he deserved.

If some bastard did something like that to one of the kids at the orphanage, would Wolfwood hesitate to get justice? To get revenge?

Would one more death by his hand make any difference?

But maybe Vash was right. Who were they to decide who lived and died? Humans are nothing like gods.

Then why? Why was it so damn easy to take someone else's life with a simple pull of a trigger?

Why was it so damn easy for Vash to choose otherwise?

But that was it, wasn't it? Wolfwood had seen the man's scarred skin and broken body more than once now. He'd seen him take a bullet for the sake of another with no shred of pride.

It wasn't the easy choice. It was the hardest choice there was.

"You're just like how I used to be. You can only see the world in black and white," an older, wiser man once told him. Wolfwood dismissed it so quickly at the time.

The man had told a younger Wolfwood that he would realize that Vash was tougher than he thought. That nightmare night in JuLai was proof enough.

An Independent was the closest thing to a god there was. Or at least that's what Knives and the Eye had claimed.

On the other hand, Wolfwood was the furthest thing from a god. A soldier at best; nothing more than a tool at worst. Yet how many times had a lowly, monstrous human like him made that decision?

But Vash again and again denounced the power and decision over life and death. He was not god. Not the devil. Not an angel. Not even a demon.

Just a spikey-headed blond idiot.

And what did that make Nicholas the Punisher?

—

When Wolfwood stepped into the command bridge, he almost dropped Punisher on his foot in surprise.

No, it wasn't a ghost he found.

He found two-thirds of his shattered heart.

"S-Shorty?!" Wolfwood said, feet moving without him even thinking.

Meryl's shuddering shoulders froze. She snapped her head up and stared at him through bleary eyes.

He stopped an arm's distance away. Meryl sniffled and just looked at him wordlessly. He opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly, an enormous and heckin' heavy weapon barrel was shoved into his chest.

"I have to ask you to take a step back, Mr. Priest," a melodic woman's voice chimed to his right.

Wolfwood was primed to protest and retaliate. However, when he turned his head to the weapon's handler, this time he did fumble with Punisher.

"Crap!" He scrambled to keep it from falling over on one of the unconscious Fris hijackers.

"I mean!" Wolfwood cleared his throat. "Anything for you, Honey," Wolfwood said, flashing his most charming smile to the gorgeous woman.

A teary guffaw from near the floor caught their attention. The Little Lady began laughing. At him! The nerve of that woman!

"Oh! Why, thank you, Mr. Priest," the woman replied. Her adorably cute grimace transformed into a cheery smile. Her powder blue eyes no longer held an ounce of intimidation.

"Milly, it's okay. He's a friend. Sort of," Meryl explained.

"Well, 'xcuse me! Just 'sort of,' she says. Tch."

"Umm," a mumbled man's voice came from the far side of the bridge.

Wolfwood adjusted his grasp on Punisher, ready for a fight.

He finally took in the rest of the room with a sweeping gaze.

Wolfwood assumed it was the Polo kid who sat untied but huddled in on himself in the corner. His arms crossed over the tops of his knees, slight shivers still wracking his body. A good distance away, a middle-aged man—likely the Fris still conscious and alive—sat defeated with eyes downturned and fixed on his hands.

I'll be damned. Blondie actually did it. Both the bastards are still kickin'.

The few crew members gave the non-crew folk wary glances, especially eyeing the shady newcomer. Otherwise, they all seemed busy attending to… whatever it was that steamer crew did. They seemed a little frazzled from their ordeal—uniforms rumpled and movements twitchy—but didn't seem to want any more trouble.

One of the crewmates—maybe something akin to a captain or navigation officer by his fancy schmancy uniform—turned in his seat at the command console. "The feds should be arriving any minute now. You folks really shouldn't be here. I suggest you return to your staterooms. We'll make sure the hijackers and V-Vash the Stampede are taken into custody and—"

"Oh, can it, pops!" Wolfwood shouted. He had enough crap for one day. And boy, did he need a smoke.

"O-okay!" The officer meeped on instinct with a wince.

Wolfwood scoffed and stepped over to Meryl and Vash. The bleeding heart outlaw was completely out of it. His face looked like a leaky, lumpy gourd.

No self-preservation whatsoever ever; it drove Wolfwood nuts.

"C'mon, Shorty, let's get Needle Noggin outta here." He stepped lightly over.

She nodded and gently moved Vash's head out of her lap onto the floor. She stood up a bit shakily.

The hardheaded dolt probably made her little legs fall asleep.

Wolfwood offered her a hand up. As he pulled her off the floor, he tugged her into his chest.

Little Lady made a cute little muffled yelp. It made him smile, and he was glad she couldn't see it.

She'd give him crap for this he knew, but he needed something to ground him.

He wrapped his left arm around her, resting his head on her midnight-black hair and closing his eyes. He felt her hesitate in surprise for a moment, but then she wrapped her arms around him too.

For just this moment, he could just be Nico. Forget about how messed up he was. How the whole damn world was.

When Wolfwood opened his eyes and reluctantly stepped back, Blondie was no longer lying where he'd been a moment ago.

For a second, Wolfwood panicked, seeing only a spatter of blood where Vash just was. His grip tightened on Punisher's belt, and his whole body tensed.

"Ready to go, Miss Meryl?" The cheery voice of Shorty's companion came from the bridge's doorway. He snapped his gaze that way.

Needle Noggin's limp frame lay draped over the doll-faced woman's shoulder.

Wolfwood's jaw practically dropped to the floor.

That weapon of hers looked at least two-hundred pounz, and Blondie had to be about as heavy himself!

Shorty chuckled and pushed his chin up with a finger. "You'll catch worms in that big mouth of yours, Undertaker."

He stood speechless, but his lips curled into a wide smirk.

Dear Lord, had Wolfwood missed this tiny, aggravating woman.

—Love and Peace—

"Sooo, where exactly are we, buddy? Wasn't there a sandstorm a minute ago?" Jimmy asked, looking around.

Clark perked up with a wry smile. Jimmy had a point. It must've been strange for them to almost magically appear somewhere else in mere seconds.

"Oh, uh, haha, I wanted to get us away from all the prying eyes. I flew us a couple of miles away from the city. I think?" Clark replied. He still didn't have a good grasp on his flight's mileage; instead, he just knew the destination.

"Ugh, no wonder it feels like I'm about to throw up my breakfast…" Lois said. Did she look a little pale?

"Oh no! I'm so sorry! Are you okay? That was way too fast, I'm sorry—" Clark rambled.

He had to remember that normal people couldn't handle his top speeds. He could never forgive himself if he hurt them.

"I'm fine! Don't apologize, you worrywart!" Lois chuckled, gazing at him like she never wanted to take her eyes off him.

"Well, I'm not fine! Thanks for asking. I got sand in my hair and windburn, and… and my camera battery finally died!" Jimmy moaned.

The three chuckled, Lois and Clark rolling their eyes fondly.

But suddenly, Lois snapped her head away, looking around wildly. "Oh no! We gotta get back pronto!"

"Huh?" Clark looked around in confusion. "Oh! Right, gotta make sure everyone's okay back there," Clark replied, thinking she meant civilians and whatnot.

"Okay, hold on tight." Clark winked. He pulled his friend and girlfriend closer and zoomed off (marginally slower this time).

Clark shifted out of superspeed flight as he approached the sandstorm's gust front. From up high, it was easy to see streaks of lightning leaping from cloud to cloud.

He hesitated, knowing it'd be dangerous to fly Lois and Jimmy straight through the storm. Even Clark didn't particularly want to test his own resistance to lightning. (Fighting Livewire had been bad enough. Her electric shocks hurt a whole lot more than a tickle…)

He was about to float down and fly the rest of the way closer to the ground. But Lois squirmed in his arms and gasped.

"Hey, do you see something weird?" Lois peered toward the storm.

"Huh? Where?" Jimmy shielded his eyes.

"In the center of the storm. I thought I saw something."

Jimmy squinted with a little pout on his lips. "No…?" He shrugged. "Oh! Clark, do your super eyes thing."

"Uh, x-ray vision? Yeah, okay," Clark said. His eyes flared with a neon cyan glow as his vision shifted.

"W-What the—? Oh, no, no, no!" he whispered.

"What? What do you see?" Lois and Jimmy both cried.

Clark gaped, the cyan glow fading from his eyes.

"A spaceship… I think. No, no, this is bad. Really bad," Clark said in a rush.

He swooped toward the ground, flying them back toward Ripmela proper, where it'd be safer.

"Wait! We're going in the wrong direction!" Lois protested, leaning to look over Clark's shoulder. "We gotta get back to the sandsteamer! We gotta—"

"I don't have time to explain!" Clark interrupted. "It's too dangerous. I can't let either of you get hurt!" His voice changed in that subtle way he used more as Superman. He never used that when it was just them.

"No, Clark! Stop!" Lois yelled, tugging on his uniform's collar. When she caught his eye, he slowed to a hover.

"Lois, please—"

"A friend of ours may be seriously hurt back there! We can't just leave him."

Clark hesitated at that. He glanced between the direction of the sandsteamer, the storm clouds above, the city ahead of them, and then Lois and Jimmy's faces.

"Please, Clark. Don't leave us behind again," Lois pleaded, her eyes wet but her expression determinedly stubborn.

"Yeah, don't worry about us, pal. Lois can protect us; she stole a blaster from the League of Lois Lanes," Jimmy chimed in.

Clark snapped his gaze back to Lois. "You stole what now?! From the League of—?!"

Lois flashed a not-so-innocent smile at her boyfriend. She squirmed a little as she dug into the bag squashed between her side and his. She lifted the blaster to show it off. Clark cringed back at the sight of the weapon, remembering the effect the League's weapon blast had on him last time.

"Put that away," he said. It came out more harshly than he meant. "Please," he tacked on.

"Oh, okay. Sorry." Lois seemed to be taken aback, but she did as asked without question.

"I'm just worried about you getting hurt." He sighed heavily. "But, well, where's this friend of yours?" Clark glanced back toward the port.

"Uh, not exactly sure? He ran into the sandsteamer somewhere…" Lois said, trailing off.

"Oooh! But Wolfwood probably has an idea!" Jimmy added.

"Wolfwood?" Clark asked.

"Uh, yeah. The ragged priest-looking guy we were talking to before you kidnapped us?" Jimmy replied with an eye roll.

"K-kidnapped? I didn't—" Clark began to protest.

"Anyway, you remember seeing the guy?" Lois interrupted.

"Um, I wasn't really paying attention once I spotted you both…" Clark grimaced.

"C'mon, let's get back before he freaks out. Hup hup!" Lois said with an annoyingly cute smirk, tapping his shoulder.

Clark pouted about getting treated like a sled dog, but he resumed their flight anyway.

However, the sandstorm was so harsh closer to the port that both Jimmy and Lois had to huddle tightly against Clark's chest. He let them wrap his cloak around themselves for protection against the razor-sharp pelting of sand.

"Guys, I don't think anyone is still out here," Clark shouted over the deafening gales of wind. "This is a bad idea. I really should get you somewhere safer…"

Lois risked peeking out along the docks. Clark was right, of course. She was quiet for a moment, likely thinking how to direct him next.

Jimmy spoke up first, barely moving out of the shelter of his cape. "He must've gone to find Vash in the steamer!"

"Wait, wait, wait a minute," Clark blurted. "You're friends with that Vash the Stampede?"

"Yes, Clark! But not now. Let's get in the sandsteamer!" Lois cried and then tucked back under Clark's cloak.

Clark just wanted to turn around and head somewhere far, far away. But if Vash was there and both Lois and Jimmy wanted to find him… Plus, Meryl and Milly were probably still in there somewhere…

Well, he finally gave in.

As Clark flew around the ship's exterior, he debated using his vision or hearing to find Vash, or Meryl and Milly. He was still nervous about using his superhearing. He hadn't tested it since that hypersensitivity incident in December.

On the other hand, his vision wasn't refined to see more than heat signatures and skeletons. He wasn't sure if he could tell anyone apart that way.

With a shaking breath, he closed his eyes and concentrated on using his superhearing instead.

Like before, the abrupt cacophony of noises was overwhelming. He gasped but was unable to cover his ears or 'turn it off.'

"Clark?!" Lois and Jimmy's voices felt like an explosion in his ears and skull.

He must have cried out or wavered in his flight. Where was the sky? Where was the ground?

He risked opening his eyes again to get a bearing on his surroundings.

Oh god, don't let me crash.

He breathed in and out deeply, trying to take back control. To Clark's relief, his flight evened out. He slowly floated up to the deck where he'd last seen the Bernardelli reporters. However, everyone had long fled back into the safety inside, no doubt including the two women.

Regardless, he settled onto the deck, keeping Lois and Jimmy close.

Clark focused first on tuning out every sound that wasn't voices. The roaring wind, the mechanical clinks, clunks coming from inside the vessel, and footsteps as people traversed the many decks.

Everything except hundreds of voices gradually filtered out. Clark would recognize Meryl and Milly's voices best. So he tuned out everyone else next.

One by one, different voices faded out, and he narrowed in on the sometimes kind, sometimes a little bossy voice of Meryl. And her rookie partner Milly, with her cheery, girlish inflection.

There!

Clark snapped his head upwards. Their voices came from up there, from the cantilevered bridge near the stern.

He quickly scoped out a way back indoors closer to the bridge. He didn't waste time flying them up and inside.

Finally out of the storm, Clark let his friends down onto their own two feet. They unfurled from his cloak, looking worse for wear than even he did.

They both took a few moments to catch their breaths and shake themselves off of grit and sand.

Again, Lois took a good look at him, reflecting his disbelief that she was really here back at him. "Lead the way, Smallville," she said, yet not looking away.

Despite feeling like he was still on clouds and not wanting to let her out of his sight, Clark also felt anxious about delaying investigating the spaceship.

He couldn't bear abandoning Lois and Jimmy right after he'd found them—after they'd begged him not to leave again. But if he could get them to Meryl and Milly, that weight on his shoulders would be a little lighter.

"This way." He walked past them, navigating the corridor.

Although unfamiliar with this part of the ship, Clark honed in on Meryl and Milly's voices. It sounded like they were with someone, but the voice was completely different than that Vash fellow's.

He was so focused on their voices that when he rounded the next corner, he bumped into someone coming around at the same time. They grunted and faltered backward, almost losing their step.

The tallish, dirty blond-haired man was definitely neither of the reporter women.

Clark froze with hands raised, worried that he'd hurt the man by crashing into him.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Are you okay, sir?"

"Oof, what are you made of? Solid steel?" The man grumbled. Frowning, he gave Clark a once over as he rubbed along his left arm.

Another man and a woman stood behind the sixty-something-year-old man. They raised their weapons, which were reminiscent of the one Lois had just shown off moments ago.

Clark similarly examined the strangers' appearances. They wore matching clean white and gray uniforms, which stood out oddly compared to the attire worn by December residents or other travelers.

The outfits weren't even those of the vessel's crew. Security personnel had worn black uniforms, deck officers crisp navy suits, and hospitality slate blue staff uniforms.

Despite the unexpected encounter, Clark chuckled nervously at the man's question. "Umm? That's what I've been told?" He recalled people calling him out as a 'man of steel' multiple times.

"Huh. I'd say." His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Shouldn't you kids be back in your cabins?"

Clark was about to say something when Lois stepped around him.

She pulled out her Daily Planet press pass, shoved it in the man's face, and quickly yanked it away.

"We're reporters. We wanted an exclusive interview with the Humanoid Typhoon himself!" Lois said, as confident as always.

Apparently, that wasn't what the man expected.

"Reporters, hmm?" he looked again at the two with a discerning eye, then seemed to notice Jimmy behind Clark, too. Jimmy raised his camera with a smile and wave.

"And exactly what kinda—" he began to ask, voice lowered, hinting at increased wariness.

"Brad?!" a familiar voice caught Clark's and the older man's attention.

Clark peered past the three strangers as the man pivoted around.

"Meryl!", "Meryl?" Both this Brad fellow and Clark said at the same time.

"Cl—I mean, uh, Mr. Red Cloak," Meryl perked up, seeing the two.

She was accompanied by Milly, of course. This time though, the tall woman carried a figure, shrouded in a red coat. The figure had to be that Vash guy—his coat and features were hard to mistake. And bringing up the rear was the scruffy man in priest-like garbs who Jimmy described. They called him Wolfwood, right?

The priest's expression looked even more wary. However, he seemed to look past Clark—his eyes flitted back and forth to Lois and Jimmy on either side of him.

Clark glanced back at Lois and Jimmy, this Brad guy and his two companions, Meryl, Milly, the unconscious Vash, and Wolfwood.

"Uh, h-hello!" Clark said, raising a hand in a friendly wave.

Brad and the other strangers all stared or blinked at him.

There was that moment of awkward appraisal from all parties until another cheerful "Hello!" responded.

Everyone turned to the tall woman who had Vash over her shoulder. She waved back enthusiastically with a bright smile.

Meryl glanced between Milly and Clark with wide eyes. She then swiped a palm over her face, shaking her head in exasperation.

And Clark couldn't help but chuckle and give a bright, lopsided smile.

—Truth and Justice—

AN:

Just a reminder, I will be posting every two weeks. Chapter 26 will be posted around 8/2 or 8/3/24.

Thanks as always for following along! Please review to let me know how you're enjoying the fic, what you liked, or what you'd like to see in future chapters! I appreciate every favorite and follow too!

Next Chapter 26: There You Are

—

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