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go by chap 23



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She was both in control, and out. Dark liquid pouring upwards from the ground and into her hands. It was cold to the touch. But it came to her, as if it were hers to keep.  Stealing her body warmth, she tempered the black pools in her hands. The longer she held it, the colder she felt. She could keep him from darkness, if she just wicked  away all the pain...  And when she looked down, her  subconscious stared back in a metallic reflection. The future was forming, their destiny of what to come.

She fell to her knees, as the black mass climbed from her hands, and became...

*

Chloe was awake, her mind clouded like silt stirring at the bottom of an  ocean floor. She had woken from a reoccurring nightmare, but only after last night, remembered.  It was the past and present coming together. Of what was in front of her, in her hands. Of her responsibility with what power she had. Immediate power, and lasting, Chloe Anne Sullivan had already shaped many lives of those she'd touched. Both inside Metropolis and out. Her meteor powers were possibly beyond her control now. Fate tied like a  lasso around her hands, dragging her ahead, faster than her feet could keep up.

She cradled Clark's face in her bare hands, feeling the roughness of his scar rippled skin. All of his wounds, trying so hard to heal. Was he truly human, now? Even with his alien past riddled, and carved into his flesh... Clark wore them like a violent exterior, armor, juxtaposed on a peaceful man.

As she watched over his sleeping body, Chloe asked herself who had hurt Clark to a greater extent: a Kryptonians, or a human? The flesh wounds she could see, only skin deep. Who knew what type of psychological wounds Clark bared?

Night was gone now, the dimmest blue tinting the east horizon of Metropolis. The neon signs of the  Slums rested in preparations of a new day, turning the skyline into a much quieter,  faded version of its wild night life.  Situated at the northern tip of Metropolis, Chloe looked south, across to  the daubs of budding sunlight scattering across the rising buildings. Her head rested against a sleeping Clark, his arms unconsciously wrapped around her.

She looked at Clark's face. So peaceful, quiet in the hushed blues of the morning. Oblivious to anything at all. He was deep in sleep, unlike what she'd observed those weeks he was in her care. There was a visible change in his expression. No strain in his muscles, just calmness. A possessive calmness he used to tame her stubbornness. Her fear. Clark had no fear. Whether or not he had resigned all of that years ago, left his fear in the Phantom Zone, he had none of it now. None that he wished to show her. Anger, he had, but it melted away after she let him hold her. Chloe leaned into him, her back exposed to the rest of Metropolis. She admired the way Clark's leg casually peddled off and over the edge of the rooftop. Their bodies precariously balanced on the edge of a small building, compared to others around. Nothing else holding them on besides the crescent recline of  Clark's body and how Chloe folded into him.

She closed her eyes, and resumed her position against Clark's chest. She'd slept this way, her head against his shoulder, her legs straddled across his lap. She could feel his heart beating, the way he breathed deeper the longer he held her. More than an embrace, even more intimate than a kiss. Her body claimed ownership over him. He belonged to her, at least, until sunrise. The beginning of dawn covered this moment like a blanket, and Chloe held tight to its corners.

The two of them circling each other for years, finally coming to rest right there. Settled among a discrete corner of the city where no one would bother them. There should have been a bigger walls built between her and Clark. She should have built clear boundaries. There should have been a better logic than to come alone, to all people, in the middle of the night in the roughest part of town. All night,  Chloe fought logic against  kismet,and struggled with  its heaviness on her heart.

This was her good dream, and she was  unable to stir from his chest. She longed for this. Her soul more restless than her mind.  She knew the same pain Clark experienced, only she had lived through the torment longer. Had to live through ten whole years of not knowing what became of him. Of thinking he was dead. Gone.

 In ten years she had obsessively scoured and investigated every clue to his life, suddenly finding it so much easier once there wasn't someone to cover up his footprints. After Clark was gone, everything was stored away like a memory in an attic. She picked and choosed  from Lex's private collection, using some of her more clever disguises, and incognito check books.

It was all for him, she realized. Trying to understand, interpret what he really was. A man with so much good in his heart, thrown into a cataclysm by his own people. The technology, the powers... All evolutionary changes that lended foresight to a civilization that was cosmically, light years behind.

She wanted to understand who  Kal-El really was, but all these things accomplished nothing compared to seeing him for who he really was; Clark Kent.  Forever an enigma in her life, perhaps even the love of her life.

  But he asked her to wait until sunrise until they do anything else.

So she waited. For the sun to rise, and for Clark to wake up. She was patient  for both, content with the moment and the opportunity to observe him up close. To touch his skin, so much rougher than she remembered. They shrank with the dim light of the morning. Clark's tan skin enlivened with the rays apearance through the clouds. His skin was a shredded  tapestry of history she'd never been able to witness. There were scars, hidden underneath his traces of facial hair. Scars wrapped around his neck line... Traces of a violent past, and a promise to an equally violent future. Regardless of how  she felt  for him, she was sending him close to a second death.

That's what they were facing. A monster of death, and destruction. So much more disastrous than anything the world had faced before. A bulky, rocky mass that towered over  every super hero she had once cursed their existence. But even they were no match.

Today, the military rolled through the country side in tanks and armored Humvees. It was a steel facade that Chloe knew would not hold.

The beast, the Monster was a manufactured machine. Nothing stopped it, it had no weakness. There was none of its own blood spilled, which caused her to question if it even had a heart to bare. It's thirst for blood however, was unquenchable.

 The morning paper deadline was approaching, and she pondered on calling it' Doomsday', out of exhaustion and frustration. But that wouldn't help them. That wouldn't give them hope.

Clark could. He could be a beacon of hope like he once was. She told him that, over and over as they both brainstormed through the night. They were a team, just like old times, tossing idea around like darts against a board. Now their auditorium was the size of Metropolis, and there was room to play.  There were bigger stakes now. More lives at stake, or even civilization itself. But Clark promised he would figure out how to beat the game, he would fix this. He promised her.  She wondered how she had survived without his companionship, all this time.

With the sun peeking from the top of the city building, he was still hers.  But not for much longer, the today was starting without them, and there so much to do.

Slowly, the sun touched his eye lids, and she held his breath. He was waking,  "Did I fall asleep?"

She resisted a smile, "Like a baby."

"I forgot," Clark yawned, "how beautiful it was."

"Sunrise?"

Clark adjusted himself,  holding her, "Your smile."

He leaned in to, but she pulled away.

 "I promised you until morning."

Clark frowned briefly, then put on a brave smile, "I know. I remember. I'll keep my promise."

Chloe nodded, "And I'll keep mine."

Clark looked at her for a moment, a long moment that went on without anything passing except the moment.  Then Clark sighed, and lifted the both of them up, and rested Chloe on her feet. "Don't worry about my end. I'll figure out a way to get my powers back with this," Clark took out the disc from his pocket.

 "I'm not worried."

"Good," Clark smiled, stretching in the sunlight, "because I feel stronger already." He took a deep breath and focused on her once more. "Thank you, Chloe. For trusting me again."

*

He looked across from the rooftop when she replied,

"Be careful, Clark."

She left after that. Probably to Oliver's or back to Gotham where her base was. Somewhere safer than Metropolis. He straightened himself out on the way home, travelling down the city streets, thinking of all the work he had to do. He had to clean the streets, tame the beast, and win her in the process...

He felt good. Everything felt good.

 This time, in daylight, the world felt assured, confident. There was somewhere to go, a mission to accomplish. A world to save. He found his purpose, and he held on tight. And he had to see her smile again.

If anyone had to live in fear like he did, for just being who they were... He had to fix that, once and for all. Show the world that not all Kryptonians are to be feared. There was good in him, he could feel it. She felt it.

It made him feel good.

Clark made it home just as  Martha was was breaking eggs into a bowl in the Kent kitchen.

"Good morning," Martha said, surprised to see her son. He was smiling, sweaty, but smiling. "Where have you been?  Running?"

"Just a short jog," Clark removed his bloodied shirt before his mom asked questions. He opened the refrigerator, drank from the OJ cartoon, and wiped his damp lip. It didn't sting anymore, he  noticed. Discretely, Clark threw his dirty shirt in the hamper, and grabbed a less dirty one and changed.  "Ran from Metropolis to home. It's been so long since I've had the energy."

Martha lifted her brow and nodded, tending to her cooking, "I can see you're in a good mood. Care to make some pancakes?"

"Sure," Clark walked over, but was shooed away until he washed his hands.

Martha watched her son carefully, lovingly, as Clark removed his father's watch from his wrist, and dipped his hands in the faucet water. "What were you doing in Metropolis, again? After you disappeared again, and you coming home with even more bruises--and then you not being home this morning--"

"Ma," he leaned and kissed her forehead, "I found her."

"Oh," her eyes widened with understanding.

Clark placed the octagonal disc on the kitchen counter, infront of Martha.

"Clark!"

"I love her," he said to his mother, with more earnest than she remembered seeing from him. "She's the key to me getting my powers back. She's been protecting me, my heritage. All this time."

Quietly, Martha resumed measuring flour, so tediously that not a speck of it was dropped on the counter.

"I know you're worried about me getting my powers back, but at least then I stand a chance. I almost died--"

Martha's eyes flew up in suspicion, flour flying everywhere, "Died? Who knows what goes on when you're out of this house!"

"I didn't tell you because..." Clark took a deep breath, and started over, "You're right. I don't tell you everything. I'm sorry. But I love you, Mom. I love you and I have to get my powers back so I can protect you. That's why I was sent here, wasn't it?"

"You're talking like you have nothing else to give but your powers. What about your humanity?"

Clark thought hard, "I wasn't sent alone. These Kryptonians, this Beast. They came from somewhere else, Krypton, I'm not sure. I can try to reason with them, but they have no humanity. They don't love anything here. And without my powers, I can't stop them from destroying everything we have."

Gently, Martha poured  the flour  in the bowl and stirred. She stirred cautious, as if mixing in his words and trying to compromise with it all. She did, eventually.  "If you're staying for pancakes, we're going to need more eggs here."

Clark smiled, and scooted the bowl of eggs from the counter.

"I'm just glad to have my son back. Smiling, no less. If I have to thank Chloe for that," Martha eyed her son, " I will. Believe me."

He laughed, and took a egg in his hands, but it  exploded.

Egg, everywhere.

"Clark."

"Sorry," he shook yoke from his fingers into the sink, "It must have been cracked or something."

"They couldn't have been. I just collected them this morning."

Clark reached for another egg, but it too, cracked instantly.

"Clark, stop. Just hold on." Martha took the bowl away and saved the remaining eggs. She held them away from him, like a protective hen.

"I don't understand," Clark half smiled and then dried his hands. "I guess I'm just in a good mood, I don't know my own strength..."

Martha looked at him.

Clark looked back.

She followed her son out the front door, bowl of eggs still in her arms, while Clark marched across the driveway to the big red barn. The first bale of hay he encountered at the door, he stopped in front of it.

"Clark?" Martha called behind him.

"Stay back." He bent down, and lifted the bale, quite easily, only using a single hand. He hadn't done so in many years. He walked past Martha, the sun behind, and stood at the edge of the drive.

And then he pitched the 40 pounds of hay into the sky, like a paper air plane.

Martha watched it sail away, "Well, we're going to need a lot more pancakes." And then trodded off back into the house to start breakfast.

Clark stared as the hay became  smaller and smaller, disappearing into the blooming light hues of mid morning.

*

By lunchtime, Clark had both trucks parked inside the barn, side by side. Around dinner time, he  was bench pressing them effortlessly, over and over like a machine. He had never felt so strong before. So confident. The absence of his powers for so long, and then regaining them over night was...

It had to have been Chloe. She had warned him, didn't she? But she didn't seem affected, or altered. She seemed fine. It cluttered his mind with questions, what her fear was...

"Dinner's ready," Martha popped her head in the barn, watching Clark with two full sized truck over his head, tail gates in the air.

"Great," Clark set them down like he was setting down a kitten, " I could eat ."

Martha laughed, "Lord knows. I remember how much food we went through raising a teenage boy, super powers no less... I'll have everything ready in once you shower up."

"Yes, m'am." Clark nodded and towelled off some sweat. He wasn't up to full speed yet, which was promising. He was getting stronger. Soon, he wouldn't even be winded.

He was feeling pretty good.

Really good. So good in fact, he felt like picking up the phone and calling Chloe. But it didn't work that way. She told him that she'd contact him when everything was ready. All he had to do was find a way to get his powers back and wait. All there was left to do was wait.

Clark drove the trucks from the barn and parked them in their usual spots. He walked over to the porch, his shirt off and his chest airing out in the evening air. Maybe he would get his hearing back, and soon he could just listen in whenever--

His gait slowed, catching sight of a man on his front porch.

"Welcome home, Kal-El."

It was Brainiac.

He was seated in Martha's favorite rocking chair on the porch. Grinning, endlessly. Patiently. Behind him was Martha, placing the table in the dining room, unaware of their visitor.

"Get away from here," Clark growled, walking slowing up the porch steps. He wedged himself in front of the door, a man sized barricade.

"If I wanted to hurt your people, I would have done so hours ago."

Clark launched himself, grabbing Brainiac and taking him backwards to the side of the barn where Martha wouldn't see.

Loudly, Brainiac slammed against the red planks, but there was no pain. "You're stronger now."

"What are you doing here?" Clark barely contained his yelling, but he held his anger at Brainiac's neck, his hands clamped onto him until the impostor's  feet lifted off the ground.

"You brought me with you, Kal." he calmly replied. Slowly, his fingers pointed towards Clark's chest, "The only way to ensure my survival, was to embed a part of my self with the Last Son. A true survivor..."

Clark grimaced, and glanced at his rippled scar, "you did this to me?"

"The first lesson," Brainiac smiled, "was that you would never forget your true heritage. Your alliance..."

He shut his eyes.

"Your true self."


tbc