chapter 15 / part 2
*
Just how much do you know about Clark Kent?
Oliver stood there for a long while, a red snake of a woman before his dark eyes. Tess Mercer had a hold on him now, releasing the doubt that was venom, slowly creeping deeper into his subconscious. Venom and doubt that slowly replaced guilt. Oliver knew the complications of trusting someone as enigmatic as Clark Kent. Every year grew more complicated and fragile between them, the mutual trust more transparent than ever.
Oliver felt his stomach drop and a strange crescendo of rattling rise.
Champagne glasses chattered.
Oliver turned towards the long ball room windows.
Helicopters.
Tess crossed his path. "Calvary's here."
And then he felt them, the ballroom vibrating from their propellers, guests and chandeliers swaying in confusion. His eyes snapped back to the woman with red hair, and unreadable eyes. Mercer was once a friend, but could Oliver trust her anymore? Influenced by the pocket book of Lex Luthor, Tess looked far more capable than he had left her. She wore the most extravagant gown in the room, and the rarest jewels, but even with all the charms and toys, Oliver could still see the old friend he knew, the woman he had loved once.
"Clark Kent is dangerous." Mercer said to him, brushing close against his black and white tux, "I know you're trying to protect Chloe, but leaving her in the hands of that man is the worst decision you'll ever make."
She left his side, making her way across the floor towards the elevator doors.
Oliver shifted, feeling his world slipping from under him. It was true. Oliver had never uncovered the secrets he knew that Clark Kent had been hiding. There had always been excuses blanketed with the comforting reassurance that Kent had been on their side. The man who wore the strangest costumes, owned the mysterious entrances and exits, the failing alibis and lies... Essentially, Kent was the equivalent of a mutual stranger. Oliver had only trusted him because of Chloe Sullivan.
But Chloe was gone.
Taken.
A link broken between them, and Oliver was just standing there as the chance to get it back slipped between dark suits and gowns and eventually through a pair of brass doors that reflected his broken image.
They closed.
Almost.
"What do you know about Clark?" Oliver shoved them back open and pulled himself inside.
Tess patiently called for the roof. "Everything that you don't."
The doors closed, Oliver and Tess disappearing from the million dollar gala. He loosened his tie, leaning against the brass, mirrored walls. Oliver's brown eyes looked unusually dull through the yellowed reflection. Oliver Queen had shown up at his own party with a blonde, but it was Green Arrow who found himself leaving with a red.
Different occasions, Oliver thought, looking over at his found old friend. "What do you know, Tess? And be straight with me. If you're saying Clark is dangerous--"
"You already know how dangerous Clark Kent is." Tess countered.
He deflated. "I hardly know him at all."
Her sharp green eyes let go for a moment, a sign of sympathy for him. "Listen. I'm here as a friend Oliver. And what you don't know about Clark, every thing that you've always wanted to know about Clark. I do know."
He looked to her. "Did Clark Kent kill Lex Luthor?" He had to know. He had always suspected she had done this stupid thing to only protect Clark. But why?
The elevator stopped, the doors opened.
Tess rushed through the doors with Oliver following.
"There's a long history between Kent and the Luthors. They were friends once, did you know?"
Oliver paused, his brows pushing down his eyes. "Clark would never associate with the likes of Lex Luthor."
"Because he told you so? How many times has he lied to you?" Tess stared, "How many times have you let him use you? Let him use Chloe?"
Oliver stopped again.
She shook her head, "Clark Kent is a man who lost track of what he was fighting for. After all these years, he turned against a long time ally. A man who was mutually committed to the same justice Clark was."
Oliver stared, still catching up from three sentences ago.
Tess reiterated. "Clark Kent has a vendetta against the meteor infected, he has for years. Check the record books. He's worked with Lex, using his unassuming alter ego as a mild mannered citizen to reign in every meteor freak that came his way, starting at age fourteen. Everyone of those infected was sent to one institute or another, most notably Belle Reeve. There they were all left to the privacy of one Luthor project or another. Is it any wonder why Clark would kidnap Chloe now? In her most vulnerable state? When she's charged with Lex's murder and outed as a freak?"
Oliver nodded his head, his voice soaked in contempt, "'One Luthor project or another', right? If I read that little card in your palm right, that makes Cadmus a Luthor project. What makes you think she would come to you? "
"Because we've found the cure."
Oliver paused, staring up at her from three stairs down.
"Listen. I can't begin to tell you how important Chloe is to Cadmus. If we lose her we lose everything." Tess touched his arm for strength, "If Chloe is alone with him she isn't safe. Your suspicions are correct. Clark killed Lex. But his motives aren't what you think. He got what he wanted from Lex and once Clark gets what he wants from her..."
Tess climbed up the remaining stairs and pushed open the doors, the blackest, grittiest Metropolis night dawning on them.
A few feet above the gravel rooftop, a helicopter hovered like an angry wasp.Wind whipped at Mercer's dress, her hair and her eyes squinting through the droplets of rain that fell. Lightning sparked behind her, thunder following closely behind.
It was the moment before she leaped onto the chopper that she turned, her last words planting a bitter seed in Oliver.
"He will kill her!"
Oliver let those words soak in just as the rain did. He released what remained of his tie and threw it into the wind. "Clark would never hurt her!" The words whipped back at him, Tess never hearing them as the helicopter took flight.
Uncertain.. Filled with something that poked and prodded at his gut until it reared its ugly head. Had he made a mistake? Had he confused Clark's protectiveness over Chloe for his own? Just how many times had Oliver saved Clark's hide and the potential of it endangering Chloe's too? What if it had all been a charade? A farce? A game that Clark had made Oliver play?
And who had Chloe now?
Lightning struck again, this time so violent and near it stopped his heart.
And then restarted.
His feet picked up pace, splashing through pooling rain puddles, kicking up the gravel of the roof. He tore open his dress shirt, his breath coming raggedly, discarding his jacket and clothes until a green leather jumpsuit underneath flashed within the strikes of lightning that exploded in the skyline.
His legs sprinted as he approached the edge, Metropolis city lights underneath and around.
And as his feet departed from the ground, his body lunging through the open air, Oliver took one last breath.
Eyes trained on the black bird in the air,his heartbeat counting the seconds he sailed.
And at the very last moment his arm extended from his leather vest. The single lifeline, a crossbow.
A line shot forward like a pit viper, arching up and away as Oliver watched it sail and coil towards a target that seemed farther than impossible.
But then--
*
Inside the cabin, the helicopter rocked and then shook.
"What was that?" Tess frowned, speaking through the communicator in her helmet.
"Just turbulence from this weather." The pilot replied, pulling the aircraft upward over tall buildings.
Rain assaulted the windshield as Tess opened a laptop with GPS software."She's close. Keep the team on standby until we make contact."
"Yes, Ms. Mercer."
"I don't want any hiccups. We need to make it quick and painless. I do not want a repeat of Greg Arkin's extraction."
"Yes, Ms. Mercer."
"We're the good guys." Tess studied the screen affectionately, "Instead of running away, Sullivan will run straight into my arms."
*
Her bare footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Lockers and classrooms.
Objects and doorways dim but preserved in memory, she reached out to them with tentative fingertips, feeling her way through black except for the slightest shades of the darkest blues.
Chloe was lost.
Tunneling deeper through passageways she had abandoned a long time ago. She turned another corner, her direction meaningless and wandering.
Her body felt an opening.
The library, she remembered. The black mouth of something that was empty, open. Ready to swallow her in if she would just fall closer. She backed away, not knowing what she was running from, if from anything at all. Here, she ran deeper into her past, between the cold walls that she had spent a short, but consequential part of her life. And now she was lost within the twists, and the turns, of every junction she had ever been led down.
Her back hit the cold metal of a set of lockers.. Sliding down, the fabric of her dress floated onto her lap like a parachute that wanted to save her fall.
Outside, she heard the rain.
How had she gotten there? Where everything connected together and fell apart-- where years ago Chloe Sullivan and Clark--
"Kent." Chloe whispered, her eyes absorbing the faintest touches of the word. Across from her was a trophy case. The trophy case, she remembered. A place where all of the school's accolades were stored like a transparent treasure chest.
Inside were miniature golden statues, medals, placards and photographs. But more importantly, there was a letterman jacket displayed in the center of it all, with the simple kerning of four felt symbols that spelled a quiet legend.
K E N T
"It was my father's."
Chloe stirred from the voice.
It was Clark, his eyes downcast to the floor until he stood beside the display. The jacket was pale and faded, but the letters kept their regal pose. Clark looked upon them proudly. "They put this up after he died. He could have gone All-State his last year of school." He spoke softly, as if remembering from some speech at the ceremony. "No one had swifter hands than Jonathan Kent, completing more touchdowns than any player since..."
Clark Kent was not human.
Chloe watched from far away, the words and idea resonating in her mind.
"Tractor pull crushed his hand." Clark continued, his own hand out from his pocket. He made a strong fist, and then unraveled. "My father said it was the best thing that could have ever happened to him."
Chloe frowned., watching as Clark did this several times, each time his knuckles going white. She studied how the rest of his body followed in his tense state, a battle of being human and being...
"The next semester, he enrolled at Metropolis University where he met a girl." Clark went on," Two weeks later, he married her."
Chloe smiled, and Clark, as much as she could see through the glass's dim reflection, smiled with her.
Rain fell outside, filling the hallways with a gentle drumming.
"They couldn't have children," Clark spoke quietly, his voice carrying the smallest of echo in the empty halls, "but they had each other, and it was enough for more than two lifetimes." Clark shrugged, "Then they found a boy. A son, delivered from the sky."
"Someone answered their prayers." Chloe injected softly, partially without even knowing why. She felt the rigidness from her shoulder relax with the words, feeling closer to Clark now that her silence had broken.
"Yes." Clark nodded very sadly, glancing to her. "They loved him like their own. My mom walked me to the bus every morning until I was ten and my dad finally had someone to play football with. I guess he wanted me to play like him one day, maybe wondering if I'd make it as far. I guess that was before my abilities really developed. After that, we didn't worry about anything crushing my hands. I could lift the same tractor over my head before I was thirteen."
Chloe studied his face, his figure. There was power there, in the long strides and sturdy gait.Clark wasn't human, she could see that now. Perhaps the dark hair and rugged good looks were always a sign that he hadn't been born here, but it didn't change the fact that he had been raised in Smallville. It didn't change the fact that Clark was the product of Jonathan and Martha Kent.
Alien or not. Clark Kent was golden son, raised by good parents with good morals. He was a man who stood for good, and had always done so, and always would. A hero. One that had saved her countless of times, and some she probably hadn't even known about.
Here, Chloe saw a man no different than any other, reciting the simple words of any who had grown up on a midwest farm. And as he spoke, Chloe found that she had never forgotten this, who Clark was. It had just been buried somewhere deep down, along with all the other things she thought she had lost after she had left this place.
Chloe looked between herself, Clark, and the lengths of the hallway that they had once walked down side by side. Those days seemed like another life entirely.
Perhaps Clark had been a stranger to her from the very beginning, she never truly knowing who he was. But now, she realized, they could start again. This time, each one knowing. From the beginning.
"Why don't I see any trophies of yours in here?" Chloe asked. It was a simple observation. If Clark Kent was a super powered being, why wasn't he the Olympic god? She felt the pages of questions filling in her head, gently editing those she asked. "I know you move faster than a speeding bullet, and I've read the reports of the Blur lifting tons as if they were pennies. You must be a natural athlete."
Pale blues shifted on his face, "I never played."
Chloe nodded, although she was only beginning to understand.
"My father always told me that crushing his hand in that tractor was the best thing that ever happened to him. He could've been a legend, but he never found his fame and glory, he found something better. He found Martha Clark. They both found eachother. And then they found me."
Clark took a deep breath, searching the red and gold jacket for answers, ""Dad said it was fate. That he was meant to do more things than just play football. He was meant to raise a son." He turned to her. "And he did. A son with hands of steel and record breaking speed. " Clark smiled, then to the jacket, "He was the greatest father I could have ever asked for."
There had always been a pull that brought Chloe to Clark. She had named this invisible force many times during their brief friendship, and discounted every one as she went along. The years of absence had failed to bury it beyond the fragile dust that Clark's vulnerable gaze had stirred And there was no hiding that she felt it now. Was it a liking, or a longing? An admiration for all that was good in him, or the allure of something mysterious in the complexities of his eyes.
They were looking at her now as she watched him walk towards her.
He lifted his hand to her as her shoulders shivered and shook.
Unbreakable hands? She lifted her fragile one, hesitating with the notion of his fingers touching hers...
Clark saw this. "You're afraid of me."
Her eyes snapped back to his, and then couldn't let go.
The pull.
Clark's body awakened, both of her hands suddenly holding on to his. He gently lifted her to her bare feet, her fingers roaming further up his outstretched arm until they were both standing in the dark hallway, a sliver of light cast from one of the farther windows.
"I was never afraid of you Clark." Golden strands fell in front of her eyes. But instead of putting them away, her fingers gravitated towards his chest. There the pull was strongest. She had to be there. Wandering across the worn fabric of his jacket, across the thick seams that led to the softer material of his shirt. She felt him breathing raggedly against her, and this was the first sign that made her think that it was he who was afraid of her. "The only thing I was ever afraid of Clark, was that I'd never figure you out."
She looked up and dared a smile.
His blue eyes looked so clear at that moment, all of the fear and past rejection laid out before her to see. His dark brows pushed down at lashes, desperately trying to hold on to the steel demeanor that had possessed him for so long. But as her hands reached the warm curve of his neck, this armor fell away. Fear spiked within him like a tumble of needles in his chest, sending messages for his legs to move, to anywhere but this close.
Signals crossed.
Her skin.
He didn't dare move.
I think you're more afraid of me, Clark. This, she whispered in thought, her body falling into that ever-known pull that existed since the very beginning
I'm not afraid. He whispered back, his eyes flashing in surprise with hers. He could almost taste her. Warm, and soft, her hands around his shoulders, bringing them so close.
Her chest fell against his.
Beat
"You do the most amazing things," this she said in a fog, torn between his eyes and his lips, "saving lives and taking zero credit for it all. You've never let anyone say 'thank you' or even see your face." Her eyes poured into his, not letting him breathe. "But I've seen your face. And, I want to say thank you."
Chloe.. Clark panicked, both alarmed and aroused. He couldn't fool himself, he was afraid. He was very afraid. Afraid losing himself, afraid of losing her.
He glanced at her lips, and closed his eyes. Clark was afraid he would enjoy this too much.
"I know you've saved me more than once. It's always been you." she smiled, "And I've never been scared, Clark Kent." Chloe wet her lips as she concentrated on his quiet mouth. A thought rose to her mind, animating a single uplifted brow. "I could care less if you're an alien. I'm not your average human either you know?"
Clark mouth twitched, a smile parting through.
"And after everything that's happened and all the danger that surrounds us now. The most shocking part is..." Chloe's eyes clouded into the darkest forest green, "you're still too afraid to kiss me."
His eyes opened.
*
Outside the school, the storm worsened. Streets around the campus were inundated with water, making it nearly impossible to travel by car. But from the sky, Tess Mercer arrived. Several black helicopter landing in unison just outside the old gymnasium.
Dozens of black tactical boots splashed against the wet ground, marching towards the entrance doors. Behind them was Tess, wearing a black jumpsuit of her own, in one hand a semi automatic pistol and the other, a radio. "Heavy perimeter around the building with every exit covered. I want Sullivan flushed out of this place. Alive."
"Clear. And what about Kent?"
"You have the green light on Kent." Tess ordered.
The commander gave the affirmative over the radio, and directed the mass of black uniforms to case the building.Tess filed in behind them, reveling in her favorite part of the job.
The extraction.
*
But he did kiss her.
His fingers were alive against her skin, a feeling so alien and good that he could hardly breathe. All these years under the yellow sun, Clark had experienced many things, but nothing had ever felt this real. Tasted this real. Nothing so soft, so warm... He felt his chest hollow beneath her touch, allowing Chloe to burrow deep inside to where he surrendered himself, where she claimed him.
Warm breath escaped from Clark's lips when she kissed his ear, Clark's chest expanding and then slowly collapsing into hers.
"I'm not afraid." Clark spoke to her in calm hush.
Was it a liking or a longing she felt every time he murmured her name against her skin? Warmth blooming inside from her heart and out to his. Soon, she felt no space between herself and Clark. His chest beating against hers in a frantic way, drumming out the seconds she knew would be too few.There wasn't a thread between them anymore. No lies, no mysteries. No secrets.
Except one.
"Clark," Chloe parting with short breath, "I have to show you somethi--"
His finger went to her lips, and stayed there.
His ear tilting to the side, his eyes following.
*
Red laser sights traced the halls, an army of black boots chasing after them.
"West end is clear." A static covered voice came through the radio.
Tess covered her mic, "Clear. Flush the entire building until there's no choice but for her to come straight to us."
Sullivan was no different than the other meteor freaks she had captured in her career. The public might give credit to bigger names like Lex Luthor for fighting the war against metahumans, but wiser historians would know the true leader in the game. Tess Mercer had sweat, bled, and almost died for the good of the people. And while yes, Lex Luthor may have actually died for the cause, it was her turn to take the lead.
Some called them meta human, others meteor freaks, and some just freaks-- but regardless of the handle, they were all sick criminals with a violent past. Lex had it half right when he had them captured. Now all that was needed was a cure. And Chloe Sullivan was the start of it all.
Up ahead, a black glove signaled to stop.
The tactical boots came to a halt, laser sights festering and jumping in a single spot like fleas.
Tess raised her gun, breaking through the flanks. "Is it her?"
Tess broke through her men, staring down at the red, lit up chest of the man in blue.She recognized him right away. How could she not? Who else stood as tall and broad and with the most clueless of faces. He had a nice face.
"She's not here." He looked down at his chest, covered with red, glowing fleas.
"I know she's with you, Kent." Tess swung around the shadows, searching the adjacent hallways. "I know she's here."
Clark stood impervious to the laser sights collecting on his forehead. "She didn't kill Lex Luthor."
"I know that." Tess said, "And that's not why we're here."
"You're not the police?" Clark frowned.
"No. I'm here to save her before the police find her."
Clark scanned the dark hallway, at the army of black uniforms surrounding him. "All these weapons and you're here to help Chloe? If you're not the police then who are you?"
"Unfortunately, I don't have times for twenty questions." Tess raised her pistol, aiming for one of the marks on his chest. "Red light." She aimed. "Green light."
*
The first round of gun shots sent a terrible chill through her. Chloe stumbled from her pace, her barefoot sprint down the darkness becoming a never ending vacuum of percussion rounds.She stopped to hear Clark's voice, or anything for that matter.
But it was quiet now. And that shook her even more.
He's faster than a speeding bullet. She reminded herself, and started running again.
She made it to the gym doors, pushing through them and running past.
She tripped over the first few feet, her hands flying forward to the ground as she fell. Her fingers felt around, stopping once they reached a deposit of warm fluid pooling at her knees. She couldn't see it, but she could smell it.
Blood.
She kept herself from screaming in horror, the bodies of several dark clothed soldiers laying around her. Their fallen arms laid against their fallen bodies. Lifeless and so many. Had they been sent to capture her? To kill her? And who had killed them?
From the shadows a glowing pair of eyes emerged, and advanced.
And then, another pair.
A hideous green...
This time, she did scream.
*
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
DING! DING! DING!
The shots kept coming, and they kept ricocheting off his chest.
BLAM! DING! BLAM BLAM! DING! DING! DING!
Holes pierced his shirt like a colander, Clark not even moving to deflect the flattened bullets that bounced off his chin.
"Stop! Cease fire!" Tess waved the muzzles down. It had zero effect. He was still standing.
Tess lowered her weapon, staring at him quizzically as the smoke sizzled away what remained of his clothes.
"What are you?"
Clark lifted his eyes, the heat from his chest emanating from them now. They all looked at him with disbelief and disgust. They were afraid. And they were raising their weapons again, ready to kill him again. But they couldn't.
An anger boiled inside of him, his voice trembling from it. He growled. "And what are you?"
Tess took a step backward, throwing her gun down in surrender. "I just want Chloe."
"You can't have her." Clark growled.
Men cried out behind her, blood spraying against the cold walls, and splashing against the floor.
Bodies fell before any gun could be raised, a single man in a bleak, and very black robe stepping over them all.
"Brainiac!" Clark yelled, "No!"
A long metallic spike originated from his hand. Machine in place of man. Cold intelligence in place of the tiniest merciful compassion.
Brainiac raised his arm.
Tess's eyes widened and shook.
"No!" Clark reached out.
Slit.
Another body fell to the floor.
Clark rushed over, turning the woman's shoulders upright. "You shouldn't have done this."
Brainiac wiped his metallic arm clean, and then regenerated back into the bloodstained fist that laid across Clark's back. "If you truly wanted to save these people, you would have stopped me, Kal-El."
Clark frowned. "How could I? You killed these people before I --"
Brainiac sniffed, "Oh please. I simply did what you could never let yourself do. Eliminate the enemy before they could eliminate you. These humans were sent here to kill you, and if they were able to, they would have. When will you learn that this human race is not your people, Kal-el? They never were."
Clark looked down at the woman's closing eyes.
Brainiac bent down, touching Clark's jaw with a blood stained fore finger. "In time Kal-el, I will help rid these disillusions--"
"Don't touch me!" Clark pushed away. "I don't need your help! You've done enough already!"
"Why are you so angry? I have only done what was programmed of me." Brainiac narrowed.
"This woman is still alive."
"Help, her?" Brainiac read Clark's eyes. "Why? I see no value in this." Brainiac studied the body. "She will not make it. It is illogical to try."
Clark bolted, "She was sent here to find Chloe, and I need to know who she is--"
"Another human." Brainiac yawned. "The only logical solution to this problem is to equalize the equation."
Clark turned, dreading the tinge of foreshadowing in Brainac's steel voice.
"Sometimes," Brainiac's eyes bathed in blackness, "these problems isolate themselves."
Clark's eye's shot down the hall.
*
tbc in part 3
