Before Sunset (Part 38)

Banner by selene2

And now for the rest of hidden. I kind of went into this trying to make everyone just a little smarter and more circumspect, including the villain where possible.

I also played with the timeline a little as I was annoyed that the missile launches and Clark has a good long talk with Jor-El and still has time to stop the missile. I suppose it was to up the tension and all (OMG, is everyone in Smallville gonna DIE completely ending the show even with a whole season left?), but it just ended up further messing with my suspension of disbelief. So I moved it a little. 

Part 38

Eighteen minutes.

Chloe stared at the digital countdown on the wall. It was the only thing in these last surreal minutes that seemed to wake her up aside from the chafing of the ropes against her wrists. The two dead men on the floor were also a bit of a wake-up call.

She'd been dazed on the ride here. Clinging to Gabriel on that bike, to him of all people. Then again, that was all according to plan. She was supposed to be brought here, dragged down hallways with grooved metal walls like a storage locker and into this room. She'd stuck to the plan. It was Gabriel who went off the rails.

He'd killed three people that she'd seen. Were there more? Was Clark the fourth by now? 

Clark could die out there, she thought, dazedly. How she hated those words, the idea of them, that Clark could die. Even before she knew what Clark was, he seemed indestructible to her. She could be close to him in the middle of a burning room and feel just that much safer. 

"Clark could die out there," she found herself saying aloud, as if she had to hear it to believe it.

"In twenty minutes, none of it will matter, Chloe."

Of course. What good was it, pointing that out to the very guy who shot him, left him to die? Gabriel seemed to think he was doing Clark a favor. Chloe madly wondered, if she asked him nicely, if he'd give her the same...

"MISSILE TRAJECTORY LOCKED. LATITUDE THIRTY-SEVEN NORTH..." 

And that was enough of that. As much as life without Clark seemed unliveable for her, the rest of the town, going blissfully about their morning, didn't deserve this.

"You're going to kill everyone in Smallville," she said, still dazed. "How could you do that?" She supposed it was too late to pretend to be on his side, maybe be by his side and watch what he did, know how to stop it. That had been one of the plans running through her mind. Then he shot Clark and she didn't have it in her to pretend.

"It's not that difficult. The fail-safes were programmed back in 1979. It only takes a moderate genius to bypass it," he said as he moved around the room, flipping switches and, though she'd consider herself smart, she didn't think she qualified as a genius, not enough to figure this out. "You don't watch your dad do the same drill for ten years and not pick up a thing or two."

"I wasn't asking about the method," she said, glaring at him. She wasn't sure she'd like to be a genius, anyway, if this was what it drove you to.

"Don't look at me like that, Chloe." Gabriel moved to her, crouched in front of her. "You're safe here, okay? Look at me." She flinched away as he touched her face. "Besides, you're getting what you always wanted. It's the story of a lifetime."

"You actually think I care about that right now?" she sneered. 

"You should care," he said, loudly and right in her face. "Last meteor shower left ten times as much rock to infect people as the last one did. Pretty soon, there's going to be more psychos running around this town. This is the only way to end it." He straightened. "It's my one chance to be a hero." He moved away.

"Yes. That's exactly what people are going to think when they're wading through the bodies," she said bitterly. Maybe none of this anger was helping. It was obvious he thought he was doing a real public service no matter what she said. But damned if she didn't feel the urge to put him right. "And I'm sure I'll be writing a glowing, heroic account of you as soon as I bury my father and all my friends..."

"Stop it," he hissed, leaning against a console.

She glanced at the clock. Sixteen minutes

"What? You didn't consider any of this? That you're exterminating a few meteor freaks by sacrificing the lives of innocent people?" 

"Innocent? Every single one of those mutants was innocent before the meteor showers. I thought you, of all people, would..."

"And some of them stayed that way. You've seen me cover the ones who did amazing things. The powers don't make you into a monster. And most of the people in this town are good people. You didn't learn this from me."

"You're not the only one in this town who's noticed these freaks, Chloe. You were just the only one to say it out loud. I used to admire that about you." He moved closer again. "See, my father knew, too. Dad always warned me to stay away from the rocks, because they turn people into mutants. He compiled data that makes your wall of weird look like a post-it. You have no idea how many more there were. How many more there may be now..."

"Your dad?" she breathed. "Were those his articles on the wall?"

She'd be gratified that she hadn't inadvertently taught Gabriel the madness she'd seen back at his house, except for how none of that mattered. And she wondered if she should feel sorry for him, between seeing the lack of his achievements on display at his house and knowing he'd grown up with a father spouting madness. But she couldn't. Gabriel was the one killing an entire town, not his father.

"He tried to warn people. He said the meteors were destroying the town. No one would listen and during the last one, he became one." His voice broke.

So that's why. She and Clark had thought his father must have tried to stop him. He'd probably have done anything but. Still, to murder him...

"You know, a lot of people think special abilities are a gift," she said, wondering if there was still time to change his mind. Maybe it was just the guilt, driving him to this scorched earth act, maybe if he calmed down... "You didn't have to kill him just because he wasn't normal anymore," she finished gently.

"He asked me to," Gabriel nearly whispered before turning to her. "No one wants to live like that, Chloe. Pretty soon, no one will have to."

Fourteen minutes.

*****************************

The first thing he thought was that he must be dreaming. 

The last time his eyes had been open, he'd been dying on the side of the road, after all. He stood, noting that there was no pain, no blood. He was not even wearing the same clothes he'd been before. His shirt was a darker blue. His red jacket should have been home hanging in a closet, not on him in summer. Then again, it wasn't exactly summer in the Fortress. That was where he was... or maybe dreaming he was.

"Hello, Kal-El."

Lionel Luthor in the Fortress. Too strange to be anything but a dream. He'd thought he'd seen Lionel before he passed out as well.

"How do you know to call me that?" Then again, that might count as a stupid question if this was happening in his mind. Of course, he'd know to call him that. 

"You're my son," Lionel said

Even stranger. Lionel's voice sounded clipped, rather like his father's. He moved toward him. "Jor-El?" He wondered where he really was. In a hospital bed hooked up to a ventilator? Had Mr. Garris got the ambulence there in time? Or maybe... No. He could feel the cold air around him.

"I hope the time is coming when you will call me father."

This was real. But how cold this be real? "I was... I was bleeding and I saw... I thought I saw... How did... how did you get me here?

"The portal in the cave. When this body was activated by the crystal, it became an oracle of Kryptonian knowledge, a vessel to inhabit if ever you should need me," Lionel--no--Jor-El said as he moved closer. "When I felt the life leaving your body through the key. I knew the time had come."

The life leaving his body. "Am I dead?" Because if this was the afterlife...

"You may well have been. But your imminent destiny is too important to sacrifice. Despite your disobedience, I could not stand by while you suffered a mortal death."

"My disobedience?" Clark felt annoyance, the extreme annoyance and resentment this machine of a man usually inspired him. This was Jor-El, alright. And this was no dream. "I only left to send those visitors away as you said..."

"And you did not return."

"I would have as soon as I made sure my friends were safe and..."

"And this very weakness defines you. This attachment to mortal..."

"Couldn't stand by," he growled. "You had no problem standing by while I struggled through the a frozen wasteland and nearly..."

"If I had felt you were in mortal danger, I would have..."

"No. I got through it. No thanks to you. It was actually thanks to one of those people you call mortal attachments. And if my destiny is to sit up here twiddling my thumbs while my town is..." He gasped. "Smallville. The whole town." He looked at his watch, but the hands weren't even moving. "You have to let me..."

"You will return with all your natural gifts. Even save this town if you wish."

"Of course I wish," he yelled. "And you're the one who sent me there! And I spend most of my damned time trying to save it. When is anything ever good enough for you?" It seemed to hit him, then, staring at Lionel and hearing Jor-El, what Lex was talking about--having a father who looked down on him and everything he cared about.

"But there is more than this town at stake. There are dark things at work, things you must face and defeat."

He thought of the ship, the crystal. "Yes. I've seen a few of them. And we can talk about it after. Now let me..."

Jor-El moved toward him. "I am not stopping you." Clark stiffened as Jor-El embraced him. And there was a warmth there... but not the warmth of fatherly love and affection. He doubted Jor-El, especially inside Lionel, was capable of projecting such a thing. It was more of energy. The cold seemed to go away, yet he knew it hadn't. He just couldn't feel it any longer. His power. He could feel it rushing back, rushing through him before Jor-El pulled away. "Always know that I love you."

He stared at him, not quite believing him, not quite believing that this... program knew what love was, with all it had done to him. But there would be time for that later. He stared at his watch, noted that the hands had begun to move again.

Three minutes.

******************************

Three minutes.

Chloe struggled with her ropes, trying to stay quiet. Gabriel was busy at the controls, but she didn't want to draw any attention to herself. 

She madly wondered about Clark. Was he dead? Somehow she thought she should know, that she'd feel him ripped away on some internal level and that maybe, just maybe, then she wouldn't care if they were all about to die.

But she did care. She'd like to think she would have even if he was gone. That she could be like him, a hero no matter what. 

She'd certainly tried. She'd tried everything. Twelve full minutes back and forth, trying to appeal on every angle. She brought up those she knew of that did good things with their abilities. It wasn't enough for him as he had even more examples of freaks who did just the opposite. And, damn it, she knew it was statistically true. She tried making him see that those people had it in them to do those things, abilities or not. But it had no effect.

So she tried bringing up the percentage of non-infected people, children even. But he seemed to think everyone would be better off dead now than at the hands of some freak later. At least she could say she tried not to resort to this.

Now there were just over two minutes left and she'd try the last weapon in her arsenal... or in the room. 

"TWO MINUTES TO LAUNCH," the computer droned.

She stared at the flashlight on the belt of the fallen guard nearest to her. It looked heavy. 

She'd never exactly considered fighting her strong suit, not physically, though she'd like to think she'd gotten better at defending herself these last years. Still, she'd certainly never clocked someone over the head with a giant flashlight taken from a dead man. She supposed this was her last chance to try new things.

They were looser now, the ropes, and she moved faster, eyes on the back of Gabriel's head, trying not to laugh like a madwoman when she pulled her numbed hands free. 

"LOCKDOWN INITIATED."

She worked on her legs, staring at the guard, at Gabriel, at the screens, at the clock...

One minute, forty-two..

Every movement was shaky and she half-feared she'd fall on her face with her stiff limbs, but she crept to the guard. pulled the flashlight from him, then stepped softly, eyes on the back of Gabriel's head, her target. 

One minute, twenty-two.

Just one good hit. If he could just stay...

"SEALING OUTER DOORS."

And, damn it, he turned. She hadn't counted on that. She didn't have much time to think. She just struck as hard as she could and hoped it was enough. 

He fell to the right console and slid to the floor.

Good. Okay, okay, okay. One minute, thirteen...

The computer droned words like SECURITY, WARNING SYSTEM and she felt every hair on her body stand at attention. If only she knew what the hell she was doing. Just a password, maybe... Gabriel's birthday.

"ACCESS DENIED."

The date of the first meteor shower...

"ACCESS DENIED. FINAL LAUNCH SEQUENCE INITIATED."

The date of the last meteor shower...

"ACCESS DENIED."

She vaguely heard IGNITION again as she ran to the window, to the missile, wondering what the hell to do now. 

"Oh, God!" The hatch above it was opening and she was running out of...

She stiffened as she heard a click behind her. Of course. She turned to Gabriel and wondered what he thought of having her tell his story now... for just a second. Then she grabbed his arm and jabbed her elbow up hard, almost satisfied as his head snapped back. 

That satisfaction was short-lived, however, as he was still holding onto that gun. They grappled for it, falling against the window. 

"Why couldn't you understand?" he yelled over the loud drones and buzzes of warning. "This is the only way!"

She didn't understand and she never would and if she could get the gun, maybe she could make him stop this. Maybe...

She heard a muffled blast and felt something warm splatter her face and the window. Blood. Was it hers? She was so numb and terrified, she could hardly tell.

Then Gabriel slumped to the floor, wide-eyed.

"TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN, SIX..."

She barely had time to be horrified that she'd shot someone, actually killed someone, when a metal sheet slid over the outside of the window.

"FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO..."

She turned to the monitor, torn between screaming and weeping, as flames filled the screen.

IGNITION.

************************

He didn't stop. He'd found himself in the caves with the key in his hands and he hadn't stopped since, moving north of the place where he still saw his blood, then south, east and west, trying to figure out what the hell a missile silo was supposed to look like. Then he heard the rumbling.as he stopped just across the train tracks. He saw it beyond the trees, heading upwards and trailing flames. 

He sped toward it, not sure what the hell he could do now except jump higher and further than he ever had. For a moment, it felt like flying, felt like he could soar right past it. But he didn't. He gripped it, his hands ripping into the metal as he rode it upwards. He jabbed his hand into it again, ripping at it and wondering how in hell he'd make it stop. He kicked and felt the bottom fall away, looked down to see it fall, above the clouds now. 

It was still moving. He sank his hand in upward, climbing and kicking as another piece detached. He vaguely noted that those weren't his work at all. they were supposed to fall away. But the head... He held on to it for all he was worth, feeling sick and panicked and maybe just a little awed as he left Earth's atmosphere. 

He started to hold his breath before he realized he could still breathe. Good to know.

Now if he only knew how to make it stop before he rode this missile right to his town or any other. His eyes widened as he saw a hatch near the tip. That had to be the way. He dug in and pulled himself upward, ripping the metal square away. There was a round peg shoved in. If that was the source of its power... He had no time to figure it out for sure. He wrenched it out, pulled it back hard and tossed it into the blackest bit of space he could see. He wasn't even sure how far, but he saw the explosion in the distance, spreading outward in fiery ripples just before he and the empty warhead spiraled down. 

****************

Weeping. 

Weeping kind of won out when there was no one around to hear you scream. She'd been on the edge of this from the moment Clark had fallen to the ground in a spreading pool of blood. Now? Clark was dead and everyone else would join him. So she wept, silently and bitterly and waited for the muted explosion that meant her life was truly over. 

She wondered if there was one more bullet left in that gun. She really didn't want to be left to tell this tale. She didn't even know how to get out of here. Even if she did, there was nothing waiting for her above except radiation poisoning. She wanted ask Gabriel what he thought of that. How he expected to be lauded as a hero trapped down here beneath the poisoned ground. It was almost funny. She was sure she'd have plenty of time to laugh over it, trapped down here with three decaying corpses before she finally gave in and...

She opened her eyes as she realized that the explosion hadn't happened. 

MISSILE MALFUNCTION. That's what the screen said. That's what all the screens said. 

She knew better. 

"Clark," she breathed. 

She could damn well feel it. It had to be. The missile had launched. 

"Clark," she said, letting herself smile as she looked around, almost expecting to see him.

****************

He could see her, countless feet under the plain metal shack that was the entrance. 

He'd rushed straight here after landing in the desert, not even sure which state he was in. But he'd heard her. Heard her cry, heard her say his name. He followed that sound until he reached the same dry, grassy patch he'd left from, the smoke from the missile's lift-off still hanging in the air. He saw her surrounded by bodies, tears still wet on her face, and he wanted to take her out of that, ask her what happened down there, hold her until they could both forget this day. But he felt frozen.

One part of him wanted to rip through that shack and make his way down, tearing his way to her. And that very instinct scared him. He knew he'd never want to hurt Chloe, but what if he did? What if he kicked that door in and right on top of her? What if his rampage triggered some kind of explosion? Maybe it was all this time without powers, but he suddenly felt afraid of his own body, of what it could do to others, to her.

Then he heard the sirens and thought it might be just as well he wasn't ripping through that silo like a mad thing. He supposed Sheriff Adams and pals had finally hit upon the right silo. Nothing like a missile shooting into the sky to narrow things down. He rushed to the cover of the woods and watched the men rush forward to access the doors. They'd find her. They'd hear what happened. It would be hours before she was let go.

That was fine. He needed that time to think. Because... What now?

For now, the only thing to do was go home. He hadn't spoken to his father since before seven. It was strange that it was only eight now. So much had happened, it felt as if weeks had passed. He felt almost like a stranger approuching the house. He supposed he was... or at least a different person than had left it. 

He couldn't very well call them as his phone was last lying in a pool of his blood. And he didn't have a car here to... He nearly laughed at himself. He didn't need a car now, did he? At least, not much. He ran home, feeling almost unsteady at the speed, at the bugs and stalks hitting him. Yet, he'd been running at this speed longer than he'd been driving. He supposed he'd get used to it again.

He was surprised to hear raised voices when he stopped on the porch.

"... tell me if anything is being done to find my son... I understand she's tied up. Is Sheriff Adams the only cop in this town or just the only one that knows how to do her job?"

"Jonathon..."

"Martha, our son is wandering around bleeding. There should be a search party and..."

Oh, boy... He'd kind of hoped his parents wouldn't find out about that part. Then again, he'd probably have to give some kind of statement, considering he'd been shot with two witnesses.

Clark stared through the wall as his mother took the phone. "Hi, Officer Barnes. I'm sorry. But you have to understand why we're concerned. Mr. Garris called us, too and the 911 call went through your dispatcher. Surely these circumstances mean we need to act quickly..."

He couldn't let this go on. He rushed to the door. "Mom!"

She dropped the phone. "Oh, Clark. Oh, thank God!" She moved to him and pulled him in, then ran her hands over his jacket. "Look at you!"

He suppose his clothes had been pretty much ruined by his drop. "I'm okay, Mom."

"But Jack Garris said you were shot and bleeding and the ambulance came and you'd just..." She stilled, pulling at his shirt. "No blood." She glanced up. "Clark, what happened?"

"Too much," he said dully, then nodded to the phone, then his father. "I'm going to have to talk to them. Just not right now."

Jonathon nodded and bent to pick up the phone. "Clark's come home. I'm sorry about the confusion... Yes... I understand... Tell Sheriff Adams we'll be contacting her." He hung up and moved to Clark. 

Clark nearly flinched, knowing he was in for a long lecture after what happened with Lex. "Dad..." He stopped as his father pulled him close. 

"I don't know what happened. I almost don't care." He pulled away. "Actually, I do. Where's Chloe?"

"She's okay. She's probably with Sheriff Adams by now. She doesn't know I'm... Well, she might have some idea, considering the missile..." He shook his head. "I'd better start at the beginning."

So he sat, he told them as his mother tried to talk him into any beverage she could, even tried to force first aid on him before he got to the part of the story where that was no longer necessary.

"They're going to have questions," Martha sighed when he finished. "There's a crime scene and..."

"So he was shot," Jonathon said throwing his hands up. "Maybe it just grazed him, Maybe he's okay. This can be explained away."

"I guess we're back to this," Clark said dully, standing. "Explaining everything away."

"You're back alive," Jonathon stood as well, clapping his shoulder. "That's all that matters. And Clark... you saved every single one of us. If that means we live with these powers, then it's worth it."

And he hugged him. He couldn't help it. Because it came to him again, as he was staring at Jor-El in the body of Lionel Luthor, that his father, the one that raised him, was pretty damned amazing.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER
PART THIRTY-NINE

I thought I'd wrap it up with this chapter, but there was too much detail to go through and I couldn't fit in the rest. So one more before the epilogue.

As far as my adjustments... Jonathon Kent can die of a heart attack. I have no problem with that having happened. I have a huge problem with it happening because Jor-El dicked around with the balance of the universe or whatever and gave Clark something more to feel guilty over. He already knew that Jonathon taking his powers to bring him back from his red K binge put strain on his heart. That's enough to feel guilty over and maybe even a reasonable thing to be on his shoulders as I'm sure most of teen antics put strain on a parent, even outside superhero lore. 

But this move. This "a life will be taken, Kal-El. I won't tell you who, but I'm so gonna off someone you love in exchange for you rising from the dead SOON... ish" is such BS and such a dick move that I have never fully recovered from it and my hatred of Jor-El was pretty much sealed forever after that. So yeah. I changed that a bit. Made Jor-El a weeeee bit less of a dick.