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21


It was a dark room. It was a temperature controlled, sterilized room. There were shelves of servers and hubs stacked up to the ceiling and wall to wall. Everything had to be kept cool, clean. Even the keyboard was sterilized day to day. The Qwerty letters lit by a cool, blue LED.

 The computer monitors surrounded a single console that resembled a futuristic telecommunication system, the type that looked a head of its time, yet so involved in it's hard wiring that you could stand in awe tracing it's inner framework.

All this equipment left alone, waiting.

Humming.

All of the monitors blank, black, hibernating.

Waiting for the operator.

She arrived and sat behind the keyboard, her gloved hands hovering over the illuminated letters in a pause of thought. Behind her meditative eyes, her mind struggled keeping up with her heart. Both raced at the moment, and had been since Clark had arrived.

Chloe took a deep breath, her fingers committing to the first keystroke, never stopping after that. Her hands danced between commands, functions,  and all the  necessary principles of programming. The boolean she read as clear as print on a newspaper. It was either one, or the other, and nothing different. True read true, and false read not true. It was so much clearer this way, behind the keyboard and a controller of the data.

The numbers, the processors hum kept her mind succinct and clear.  Her heart, however, became a distraction of its own. It ached inside of her chest, preternaturally because of her condition.

With every keystroke, a string of programming relayed across her blank screens, her mind turning on as she warmed up, as the computer's warmed up.

Over a decade, Chloe became well versed in the trade of the computer science. She didn't have to hack into security systems with electromagnets or memory cards anymore. All of that was very analog and prehistoric to her standards now. Anything and everything she wanted was at her fingertips, and at the command of a few key strokes.

At the present moment, what she wanted was information. An explanation. Now that he was awake, speaking...

Alive, and well.

Three days ago, Clark hadn't been so well.

Oliver Queen had retrieved Clark's body from the rubble of another 'Monster' incident in Metropolis. His body, shredded like he was tangled in barbed wire. His neck, crushed.

By witness accounts from Lois and Jimmy, Clark  died moments after...

His body was laid on the lab table that night, flown in by Bruce's helicopter and delivered to her front door.

They gave him the serum.

They administered double the regular dosage this time, with Oliver's approval of course. Oliver's own  motives to keep Clark alive were conflicted, but his eyes had witnessed the havoc laid upon Metropolis that night, and the nights prior. And to Clark's body. They all agreed that any hope to defeat this monster waned by the hour, and they needed a solution.  If Oliver and his team wanted to learn more about the Monster,  they needed him alive.

Clark.

Her motives...

Beyond her computer screens, a partition in the wall receded upwards into the ceiling, revealing a glass wall beyond it, recessed further into the room. Beyond the glass, was a bedroom illuminated by a table lamp. It's Victorian decor juxtaposed strangely against the coldness of Chloe's computer room as she looked upon the other space as if she were staring into one of her screens.

It was Clark's room. The one they had constructed for him. He was sleeping in the bed they provided, his feet sticking out from the edge. She had forgotten how tall he was. Preternaturally tall. And handsome as he slept, even with the scars ridden on his skin. She couldn't look away from his face, but often studied the marred symbols on his chest. They were signs of an old trauma, his affected skin darkened, and raised in pock-like wounds that were stubborn to heal.

She wondered where he had got them from. All of them, so very new to her memory, as the last time she had witnessed him so bare, was nearly ten years ago.

Chloe paused her typing, and stretched the gloves over her fingers. Her programming was nearly complete, only the finishing touches left now.

Her eyes settled on empty portion of the room Clark was sleeping inside.

She always appeared when he was sleeping. Or seemed to be. He never kept the same sleeping patterns, and woke in nightmare nearly hour to hour. This was something that intrigued her, deeply, and she was scared to admit why. He wouldn't humor her, he barely had any words for her. He was such a different Clark now.

Within Clark's room, a fizzle of golden light appeared, the not too recently discovered science of 3D projection working within matrix of quantum electromagnetic particles.

A hologram, of her, but not as herself.

A woman appeared, attractive, friendly, dressed a physician and carrying a clipboard.

Chloe smiled, the woman smiled. All of her movements captured via the camera mounted near her keyboard, tracking her muscle movements and expressions. The results were quite natural, fluid, realistic.

Realistic enough for Clark to interact with, without speculation.

He had been told he was in a specialized rehabilitation center, and was kept in isolation for his own safety. He seemed to accept it readily, although his patience waned. He often paced about the room like a caged animal, sometimes peering into the same glass window Chloe stared back into him. Except his side was a mirror finish, and Clark staring back into himself.

Chloe, her hologram, walked to his bedside, his vitals indicating that he was awakening.

Clark's closed eyes moved beneath his skin. He did not open them.

"Good morning, Clark." Her voice deceptively hidden beneath a modulator, but her inflection was still there.

"I don't want to talk to you anymore," he grumbled, but did not move, "I want to be released."

"Actually," Chloe took a seat in the study chair next to his bed, "I may have good news for you."

Inside of the computer room, Chloe began her network of instrumentation and brought up his medical charts.

Clark sat up, his interest stemmed at this slight promise of release, "Yes?"

"Well, I've shown all of your charts to the other doctors here and they are very pleased with your recovery. Everything seems to be going well."

"So I can leave?"

"Not yet," she explained, "We still have to debrief on what happened that night you were brought to our facility... Our interest is to better understand the... person who did this to you, so we can protect the community from it."

Clark eyed the physician carefully, "What makes you think I know what it is?"

Chloe proceeded just as carefully, "Fragments found buried inside your tissue from the assault, fragments of this organism were matched against several samples of meteor rock found in a place called Smallville, Kansas. The town you grew up in. You also have various, documented cases of run ins of the people who were infected by these rocks. There are also  speculations that you yourself were infected by this type of rock, though now you show no signs of  genetic mutation..."

"Sounds like you know more than I do," Clark stated plainly, his hopes of leaving vanishing along with his semi pleasant demeanor. His shoulders turned inward, the animal appearing again. "I don't want to talk to you anymore."

Chloe sighed, audibly, and took a moment to reflect, "Clark, you were reported missing for a decade. Do you have any recounts of what happened to you during this time?"

His eyes stared into the large mirrored wall.

"My staff predicts that you suffered a severe traumatic event, one that has inhibited your memory of it... Do you sometimes suffer memory loss?"

"No," Clark said quietly, eyes glassed over, "I remember everything very clear."

She studied him. It was always this, listless position where Clark detached himself from her help. "Why wont you let me help?"

Clark seemed to ignore her, continuing on, "I remember a place they used to call Belle Reeve. I heard they shut that place down years ago after they found the cure for 'freaks'..." Clark thought, and then laughed to himself, "This place must be the new version."

An overtone of anger rose in her modulated voice, "Belle Reeve was a research facility used to exploit infected--"

"--Exploit infected and use them in experimentation to further the scientific research of a tyrannical billionare," Clark finished for her, rattling off as if he was reading it from a manuscript. He was, literally, since they were the same words Chloe had written in one of her papers. "Lex Luthor. But I guess you're the new version of him, too."

Involuntarily, she rose from her chair.

And for a moment, her image flickered. The technology wasn't perfect, but it was close. It relied on the operator to control its flaws, just as a person's internal will needed to control its desires.

Chloe's anger flared, then calmed.

Clark noticed all of this, his deep eyes soaking in her expressions.

Oliver walked into the computer room, observing from her side. "No answers yet."

Chloe looked at him briefly.

Clark looked at her, her eyes. "Who are you looking at?" He peered at the mirrors, "Who are you people exactly? I want to speak to the other doctors, now."

"Keep working him." Oliver whispered," The, monster hit Metropolis again. Forty dead. We don't have enough resources to fight this thing." With that, Oliver left the room, the smell of fresh blood on his clothes.

Chloe turned back to her screens, to Clark.

The hologram walked between Clark and the mirrors, "We've all seen the movies where the detective interviews the guy in the room with double sided mirrors... You know you're not supposed to know who's on the other side."

"I want to talk to her."

"To who?"

"Chloe," Clark said her name for the first time, "I know she's alive. She's the only one who can help me."


The pain in her chest grew, and expanded into her throat. She suddenly didn't know what to say.

"Chloe Sullivan. She's a infected person, or was. I need to see her. I know you're keeping her here." The desperation in his voice made it crack, ever so slightly that it caused her to stop breathing for the same, shared moment.

She found her breath, "What if you were seeing her now?"

He gritted his teeth, "I've had enough of your games."

Frantically, her fingers moved against her keyboard.

"No games." Her voice, without the modulation filters, said. Slowly, the hologram changed to, herself. A petite, fair headed woman with green eyes and...

Even disguised as a hologram, she felt a little safer on the other side of the mirror. What she was afraid of, she wasn't sure.

Clark stood very still, his anger dissolved with his intrigue. He made no words, his body instead speaking for his mind which desperately wanted to know.

He moved towards her, and touched her face. His fingertips found a surface of light, the disappointing vacuum of empty space and a tingling sensation of electro magnetic waves.

"It's a hologram, Clark. But it's me. I'm here. I've been here--"

He shook his head, "I don't understand..."

Chloe pressed a series of keys again, and her image changed once more.

This time, in the appearance of Zatanna Zatara.

"I've developed many aliases, Clark." Chloe explained, knowing that Clark's reaction to the truth would be volatile, but she had faith that he would understand her reasons.

He stared at Zatanna, the disguise, recognizing that he had been...
Chloe watched as he approached the mirror, towards her.

"You are there, aren't you?" Clark said, anguished and humiliated, "I can't believe you would do this to me, Chloe."

"I had to keep my true identity a secret, Clark. You for one should understand why--"

"You let me think you were dead!" Clark's fist punctuated the statement against the glass. "I searched for you, for answers... I fought.." Suddenly, he buried his fists into his dark hair and pulled out his frustration.

Chloe leaned over her keyboard, her eyes welling up in her confession, "Clark, you went missing for ten years... I didn't know what happened to you! When you came back, I... I wanted to tell you, I practically fought myself everyday not to. I created Zatanna so I could..."

"Why not just tell me?" Clark looked at Zatanna, the only version of Chloe he could see.

"Ask yourself why you choose to keep your identity a secret for so long, Clark. Why you never told me who you really are?" Zatanna walked towards him, her dark hair and eyes nothing like Chloe's. But suddenly, he could see her. He asked himself why he had never tried to touch her before, why he never had gotten the inclination to? But now that he knew she was her... he couldn't resist.

"I was afraid," Clark answered thoughtfully, "I was worried, you wouldn't accept me. You were a different person back then, Chloe. We both were."

In the computer room, she bowed her head.

"You've kept me in this room, you know all my secrets..." Clark stared into his own image in front of him, his chest marred by red slashes in his chest, "You've seen all of my scars. I don't have anything else to hide from you. Why are you keeping me here?"

"I can't, Clark." she cried, tears falling onto her keyboard, "I can't let you leave until--"


"What? Until what?" Clark screamed back, "What do I have to do to make you trust me again?"

"I trust you," Chloe said, "There's security precautions since--"

"I'm still the same Clark. I'm still me, and I'm done hiding from you. I'll tell you exactly who I am, I'm not the one hiding behind smoke and mirrors anymore. You are."

"Clark," Chloe tried to explain, "You aren't the only Kryptonian we are aware of."

He paused, "So you know about Krypton."

Chloe smiled faintly, "I know more than I did ten years ago... I searched for you too." After his disappearance, her uninhibited journalistic powers went in full gear. She found a lot of interesting things about Clark Jerome Kent. Things that made everything else in her life, make sense. And yet with all the mysteries she had uncovered about him, he still remained the most interesting man she had ever met.

"The men who attacked us that night, they were also Kryptonian."

Clark's heart sank, "I'm not like them. Chloe, please..."

"I don't know what to think-- Oliver thought it was best to-"

Clark felt his fists curl uncontrollably, "For once, I'd like you hear me out without any of your friend's opinions of who I am!"

Chloe quieted.

"Ever since you left Smallville and moved to Metropolis, its like I've had to regain your trust. Every time  I have to break through a new barrier with you, I.. I just want you to make up your own mind. Do you trust me?"

Instantly, the hologram fizzled out.

And he was alone.

"Clark," this time it was Oliver's voice over an intercom. Stern, and authoritive. "This session is over."

And after that, a seam opened within the opposite wall, parted, and he was free.

*

Outside the maze of hallways, Clark found himself inside of a English garden, fitting for the room he had been kept in these past days. He wondered where he was, and how he would return home.

He continued walking, bare foot through the grass, only looking back once to see the size of the mansion he walked away from. It was strange, that it had all taken place there. So large and obvious among the trees and grass. Clark figured he had been underground the entire time.

When he turned back around, he was confronted with a dark man in his path. Clark had seen him once before, but it was briefly and on the night he had left for the Phantom Zone.  "I knew Oliver wouldn't just let me go."

"Oliver did let you go," the man replied, walking towards Clark casually but with a tactical belt at his hip, and several tools strapped along it, "he wasn't gaining anything by feeding you like a hamster in a cage."

Clark raised a brow, "So what was the point of all of it? Why keep me at all?"

The man shrugged, "Scientific study. You were officially dead for three hours after you were medivaced from Metropolis to Gotham."

Clark thought a moment.

"After you were revived, we decided it was best to watch you, make sure the serum did its job as it was designed to do. The strange part is that it didn't heal all of your injuries, the older ones. But what can I say, it's a work in progress."

Clark thought a moment, and then began to speak but the other man beat him to it.

"The second half to that answer is, Chloe wanted to keep you. She practically litigated Oliver to keep you here. Convinced him that you would have answers we didn't."

"Maybe," Clark said, watching as the other continued approaching him across the long grass until they were a handshake length away.

He offered his hand, "Bruce Wayne."

Clark, skeptically took it. "Clark Kent."

"Clark," Bruce repeated, "I think more than anything, Oliver kept you here to see if you were a threat to him or not. To all of us."

"Between him and Chloe, I think all of you have been watching me for a very long time. What else is there to prove?"

Bruce looked at him for a long while, "There's always something to prove."

*