The Chronicles of Smallville: A Series of Altered Adventures

[Bytefyre531]

What an excellent rewrite of "Craving", Matt! Ah, it was great to see Clark being even more supportive of Lana's plight in your version than he was in the actual episode. Ugh, Nell is way too controlling...I don't think that Lana can wait a year to find out about Henry Small; she needs help now. Ah, I was happy to see that things turned out better with Jodi here than in the real episode as well...I hope that we get to see her again sometime down the road. Ha ha ha, I thought it was cute how all of Clark's friends were helping him out with his baseball practice while discussing Lana's surprise! And I loved the idea of having the less elaborate party with friends (and pizza, of course) as well as the Bugs Bunny cartoon. I'll look forward to "Morpheus"!

[Young Superman]

Love it! Another great update.

[superman_lives_on]

The Chronicles of Smallville: Morpheus

NINE
Morpheus
It was a beautiful morning in Smallville, especially for Clark. He felt as sunny as the sky itself, as cheerful as the birds singing in and around the farm, and as light and breezy as the air. There was no way he could hide the smile on his face, nor did he wish to – it was far too wide and dazzling for that.

The reason was simple and ever so beautiful…Lana was with him. His arm carefully held her petite body close, her hair flowing over his shirt and past her shoulders, as they stood together in the barn. “It’s so peaceful here,” she sighed. “It’s a wonderful home.”

“I know,” he murmured, stroking her side. “Still…whenever you’re around, and even when you’re not, nothing else compares.”

She smiled up at him, the expression incredibly tender, her eyes shining. “You really mean that?” she whispered.

“With all my heart,” he vowed, turning to face her fully and brushing his fingers over her cheek. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, Lana. God must have patterned you after one of His angels.”

She blinked at that, her eyes now shimmering, her face even more tender. “Wow,” she managed to breathe. “That’s exactly how I see you, Clark.”

His heart swelled, and he inhaled deeply, then wiped gently at her eyes. There would never be a better moment to tell her. “I’m honored to know that,” he said solemnly, “because…I love you.”

Her eyes shimmered even more, her lips forming a smile of pure joy. “Oh,” she sighed, blinking some more. “I love you too.” With that, she all but leaped into his arms and kissed him fiercely on the lips. He readily welcomed her, holding her closer still, his entire being singing with that same joy, that same bliss, that same…

…agony.

He broke away, gasping for breath, but he couldn’t drag any air in – she blinked in confusion, catching her own breath – his knees were suddenly very weak, but not from her presence alone – “Clark?” she asked, concerned, and he tried to answer—

—but it was all he could do to avoid collapsing right then and there, all he could do to get her back onto her feet – and then he had no strength left to hold himself up. He hit the ground hard, drawing a near-frightened “Clark?!” from her, and he did not have enough air to answer her – she went to her knees, her eyes wide with worry—

“Lana,” said a voice that could not possibly belong to the person it sounded like, “get away from him.”

She looked up in shock, staring at someone behind him…and somehow, he found just enough strength to push himself up and turn around. No…he was seeing things. That couldn’t possibly be who it looked like, holding a large glowing meteor rock out towards him…it couldn’t be…

“Mrs. Kent?!” Lana exclaimed, stunned and upset and frightened. “What are you doing?!”

The person who couldn’t be Martha Kent – she just couldn’t – didn’t even look at her. “Get away from him, Lana,” she said again, her eyes focused on Clark. The meteor rock flickered with that eerie light, a bizarre tinkling sound reaching the very edge of his hearing, seeming to echo her words: Get away…get away, little girl…

“No!” Lana said, shaking her head, her eyes moist – she was getting angry now. “I won’t let you hurt him!”

“Get away,” said Martha harshly. “You’re the one hurting him.”

That shocked Lana even more. “What are you talking about?!” she cried. Clark would’ve said the same, but he had no breath to speak – the meteor rock was sapping all his strength away—

“Get away from our son, Lana,” said a stern male voice. She and Clark both looked and saw Jonathan standing there, holding a shotgun in both hands – but how could it be him?! How could that woman be Martha?! What were they—

Lana shook all over and glanced down at Clark, then between the seeming forms of his parents. She inhaled unsteadily and took a very reluctant step away from him. He groaned in protest, but that was all he could manage – he could hardly even keep his eyes on the intruders. “Why?” she asked. “How am I the one hurting Clark? I’m not the one holding a meteor rock or a gun.”

Jonathan was unmoved. “You know his secret,” he said firmly. “You know his weakness. You know exactly how to hurt him.”

“That doesn’t matter!” she exclaimed, shaking her head desperately. “I love him! I’d never do anything to hurt him!”

The man harrumphed, not touched at all. “Yeah,” he grunted, “sure. That’s what anyone would say when they found out about him. It’s all lies. Every single one of them is just another Luthor beneath it all – just another monster waiting to exploit him!”

“No!” Lana all but sobbed, hurt and scared and angry. “That’s not true! I’d rather die than betray him!”

The words came out before she could stop them, and a look of pure horror suffused her face as Jonathan cocked the shotgun loudly. “That can be arranged,” he growled, aiming it at her. Terror shot through Clark like a bolt of lightning, and he fought against the paralyzing power of the meteor radiation, desperate to stop this—

“No!” Lana gasped, tears coming free, and she held up her hands pleadingly. “Mr. Kent, you don’t have to do this—”

“Yes, I do,” he said harshly, not a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “It’s the only way to keep my son alive.”

NOOO!!! Clark wanted to scream, wanted to fling himself forward, wanted to get between his angel and that horrible double-barrel pointing at her – but he had no energy to move—

The shotgun BOOMed, and death exploded towards her—

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! Clark shot upward and forward, throwing himself desperately at it—

—and saw nothing but a darkened bedroom.

He gasped and panted for breath as he sat upright, his mind whirling, trying to make sense of everything…and after a minute, the truth dawned on him. He’d had a nightmare. It was just a terrible dream…his parents hadn’t attacked Lana…

He shook his head firmly, feeling sweat on his skin, and turned to x-ray into his parents’ room. They hadn’t moved from their bed – evidently, they were still asleep. He hadn’t actually screamed.

But God, he’d felt like he had. That dream had been horribly vivid. He remembered the stomach-churning, blood-boiling agony of the meteor rock, now a mere phantom sensation. He rubbed his stomach, remembering how utterly helpless he’d been, how he hadn’t been able to do a thing to save Lana…

…and his breath became shaky as he remembered how his own parents, the people who’d taken him in when they had no obligation to do so, the ones who’d raised him and set an example that he wanted so badly to live up to, had been the would-be murderers of his angel. But that was just absurd! How could he have possibly imagined them trying to kill her?! How could he have ever, even in this darkest and most paranoid fantasy, imagined them sinking so low?!

He felt like crying. In fact, he was crying a little already. He buried his face in his hands, sniffing and trying to calm himself…but it was no use. As he quietly let tears slip free, the self-recrimination kept pounding at him: How could he possibly have imagined his parents committing murder, let alone against Lana, to keep his secret from getting out? What the hell was wrong with him?! Was he really so messed up that he could think of that happening? Was he really so terrified of how they’d react when they inevitably learned that she knew his secret, at least in part – knew what could kill him?

He had no answer for himself…he didn’t think he could bear to ponder it for too long. When he’d finally cried it out, he wiped at his eyes, moaning miserably, and glanced out the window. It was close to dawn, from what he could tell…but there would be no gorgeous sunrise today. The sky was completely overcast, blocking a single hint of starlight or moonlight and filtering the slowly approaching sunlight. It was going to be a very gray Monday the 3rd of December.

With a deep sigh, he climbed out of bed, brushing idly at his white T-shirt. He wasn’t going to get any more sleep – not like this. He supposed that he could use the extra time to get ahead on his chores – not that he needed a lot of time to do them, but still.

He avoided waking his parents – not that they needed his help to wake up early. When they came downstairs, he was already finishing up a simple breakfast of cereal and toast. “Clark?” his mom said questioningly. “You’re up a bit early.”

He nodded, trying not to wince. “I woke up early – didn’t figure I could get any more sleep.”

“I know the feeling,” his dad said, patting his shoulder. “Bad dream?”

Clark had to work even harder to suppress the wince, but he managed it. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I don’t remember it clearly.” You wish, his conscience chided him. “But it was pretty awful.” Understatement of the millennium.

“No shame in that, son,” Jonathan said warmly, smiling. “Everyone has bad dreams sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Clark said, trying not to brood…it was so hard to avoid dwelling on those horrible images and sounds and feelings. But somehow, he kept them at bay. He cleared his throat a bit and changed the subject: “I took care of the chores while I was at it. I don’t think anything else needs doing until this afternoon.”

“Oh,” Jonathan said, raising his eyebrows a bit. “Did you remember to give the animals their breakfast?”

Clark chuckled, feeling a little more at ease. “Of course I did,” he said. “Most important meal of the day, after all.”

“Glad you haven’t forgotten,” said Martha dryly, but she was smiling.

“As if I could ever forget something you tell me, Mom,” Clark assured her, his own smile growing into place. Then something occurred to him. “So have you guys worked out where exactly you’re staying this weekend?”

“I should hope so,” she chuckled. “We’ve only been planning it for several weeks.”

“Yup,” Jonathan concurred, keeping an eye on the coffee that Clark had started brewing for them. “Just you and me and a weekend in Metropolis, sweetheart.”

Clark smiled at that, feeling genuinely better at the mention of their wedding anniversary. He looked forward to the period of his life when he could plan for such an event…but he bit down before he could think too much about the person he’d be spending it with, lest he recall her fate in that nightmare. He swallowed the last bite of toast, wiped his mouth with a napkin, then rose to put his bowl and small plate and utensils in the sink. “And here we’ll be, stuck with a field trip to Lex’s plant,” he joked. “I envy you guys.”

His parents chuckled at that. “Oh, I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Martha said. “I’d be more worried about your midterms.”

“Touché,” he conceded. “Good thing we’ve been studying so thoroughly. And speaking of studying, I should get going.” He donned his tan jacket to go over his red plaid shirt and grabbed his backpack. “I want to walk with Lana before the bus gets here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jonathan agreed. “You should never keep a fair lady waiting, after all.”

“I definitely won’t,” Clark said, smiling, and headed out in a blur. He stopped shortly before he could reach the blue house a mile away from the farm, walking the rest of the way. The smile dropped from his face, his upbeat mood fading before a tide of remembered pain and upset…never mind that the source of those feelings had been an illusion. He stopped for a moment and held his stomach, trying to keep his breathing steady. Focus, Clark…you aren’t going to do any good by breaking down now.

He reached the front door and was about to do a quick scan when it opened. Lana stood there, all dressed for school in a light blue theme that suited her beautifully…but the look in her eyes stopped him cold and ruined all his efforts to keep calm. She looked disturbed, shaken…distraught.

Without a word, he immediately moved forward and gathered her into his arms. She let out a soft sound and relaxed, not caring if they were seen. After a long moment, she whispered, “You had a nightmare too?”

He made a small, rueful smile and kept her close. “What gave it away?” he murmured.

She sighed and looked up at him tenderly. “You had such a haunted look in your eyes,” she admitted. “I hate seeing it, Clark. You don’t deserve that pain.”

“Neither do you, Lana,” he replied, stroking her face. He cleared his throat and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She nodded. “I think I’d better.” She glanced down and paused, as if gathering her thoughts. “It actually started out well. We were together, nobody else around.” She smiled visibly. “And we were kissing.”

“Always a good thing,” he agreed, chuckling. Then he sobered. “Were we interrupted?”

She grimaced and nodded again. “Nell came in and started ranting at us for ruining my future, and…” She shuddered. “Clark, she had my necklace in one hand and a huge knife in the other.”

“Uh-oh,” he murmured, his eyes widening. He could guess how the rest of it had gone.

She seemed to realize that and nodded once more, squeezing her eyes shut. “I tried to stop her…but she knocked me away so easily…I couldn’t do anything but watch…” She broke off, sniffing.

“Oh, Lana,” he sighed, and held her for another long moment, letting her get it out. Who cared if his shirt was getting wet? He’d go through his entire wardrobe several times over to see to it that nothing ever upset her again.

When she’d finished crying, she looked up at him. She cleared her throat, but even then, her voice came out especially quiet and raspy: “What about yours?”

He gently wiped her tears, feeling horrible to have to add to her upset…but at least this way, they could help each other work through it. “Mine was pretty similar,” he admitted. “But it wasn’t Nell who interrupted us with a meteor rock and a weapon.”

She tilted her head, frowning…and then her eyes widened with horrified comprehension. “Oh, no,” she whispered. “Not your parents.”

He felt utterly miserable as he nodded. “I wish I could lie and say it wasn’t them. Heck, I wish it really hadn’t been them.” He drew in a shuddering breath. “But…they thought you knowing some of my secrets was a terrible thing…a just cause for…” He couldn’t finish it – he shook his head, hating himself for having even dreamed that. “God…Lana, I don’t even know where that came from. How could I possibly imagine them doing that?”

She hated the guilt in his eyes – it really didn’t suit him. She reached up and stroked his cheek gently, her eyes never wavering from his. “Don’t beat yourself up, Clark,” she soothed. “It’s not like dreams are literal things. They’re full of exaggeration and symbolism.” She sighed. “I guess we both have fears of how people will react if they find out the truth about us.”

He felt calmer at that, the simple and heartfelt truth in her words cutting through his self-blame. “That’s true,” he admitted thoughtfully. “I am scared of how my parents will react whenever they realize that you know part of the truth…and you’re scared of how Nell will react when she realizes we’re a couple.”

She nodded, her face becoming resolved. “I am – but I’m past actually caring what she thinks of us being together. After everything she’s done, I can’t wait until I’m eighteen to get away from her. I need an out.”

He nodded back and planted a reassuring kiss on her forehead. “I bet Lex could help,” he remarked. “He has plenty of lawyers and savvy.”

“And he’s no fan of Nell,” she agreed, smiling a little. “Yeah…we can talk to him after school and see what our options are. And don’t panic so much about your parents – they may be afraid of people knowing you’re different, but I don’t believe they want to keep you from having a life. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said, and they sealed it with a fuller kiss. “But for now,” he said when they pulled back, “let’s take a walk back to the farm before the bus arrives.”

She smiled, liking that idea. “Lead on.”

He did, and they spent a very enjoyable half-hour or so hiking across the mile of field to the Kent Farm. They reached it a good few minutes before the bus was due to arrive, and they waited in companionable silence. As it came into sight, though, she said, “Um, don’t Pete and Chloe usually meet you just before the bus shows up?”

“Actually, yeah,” he admitted, looking around. “I don’t see them.” He shrugged a little as the bus pulled up and opened its doors for them. “Odd. Maybe they decided to get their own ride today.”

“Probably,” she agreed, hoisting her backpack a bit as they walked up onto the bus. They found an empty seat and kept close together, not really caring if anyone suspected they were more than friends. By now, they’d rather ceased to worry how it would look…though Lana still feared how Nell would react if she ever stopped blinding herself to the truth.

The bus started moving right after they sat, and for a while, they simply enjoyed companionable silence – well, relative silence, given the steady bass rumble of the engine. None of their classmates seemed in a mood for gossip – not that they were ever particularly noisy on the bus, granted, but they were especially quiet this morning. Clark and Lana didn’t mind at all – they always enjoyed sharing a quiet, comfortable moment.

There was noise as they came up to the school, though – some kind of racket vibrating through the windows and sides of the bus. Everyone sat up and took notice at that, especially the not-so-secret couple. “What’s going on out there?” Lana murmured.

Clark peered out, easily seeing past anything in his way – and then jumped to his feet, shock and sudden outrage spurring him onward. “Come on!” he exclaimed to her. “We have to hurry!”

She grabbed his free hand without a thought, both of them using the other hands to keep their backpacks steady, and they hurried out of the bus ahead of anyone else. They broke into a sprint, the cacophony getting louder – and she saw that a bunch of students had formed a ring of some kind out on the lawn. When they reached it, he easily pushed through so that she could see—

—and she stopped dead, staring in utter disbelief. A jock in his letterman’s jacket was just whaling on a defenseless freshman! And nobody was stepping forward to stop it! She made to move forward, knowing that Clark would do the same—

—but she couldn’t move. She stopped, blinked in bewilderment, then tried again – but something, some invisible barrier, blocked her progress. She turned to her companion and saw that he shared her confusion and anger. He clenched his hands into fists, gritted his teeth, and started pushing forward again, exerting more and more of his strength against whatever was holding them back.

The jock threw his helpless prey – a bespectacled and rather thin kid – to the lawn and raised his hand for the finishing blow—

—and didn’t even have a chance to cry out in shock as Clark grabbed him by the shirt-collar and shoved him backwards. He struck his head on the grassy ground, his vision exploding into stars, and all but passed out on the spot. Growling in fury, Clark delivered a sharp blow to his head – not a super-strong one; that would have crushed the bastard’s skull like a grape. But it was definitely strong enough to knock him out completely.

With the barrier broken, Lana was close behind Clark, and she bent down to help the kid to his feet. “Are you okay?” she said softly, worry filling her voice and face and every move.

The boy cleared his throat, looking shaken and a bit banged up but not too seriously hurt. “I…I think so,” he said after a moment, adjusting his round glasses. They weren’t large – they looked more like reading glasses than anything else, and they did little to hide his bright blue eyes.

Clark helped him up as well, and after a moment, he blinked in recognition. “Eric?” he said. “Eric Summers?”

Eric nodded, smiling awkwardly. “Yeah. Thanks for that, Clark. He just wouldn’t…” He shuddered a little, glancing at his tormentor. “He wouldn’t stop.”

Clark and Lana scowled down at the unconscious jock. Alas, they recognized him too – Brent Peters, another member of Whitney’s thuggish team. He was every bit as bad as the others, especially when he thought someone was so much as glancing at his girlfriend, Holly Mapleton. Lana looked and saw the dark-eyed blonde hurrying over, her face concerned. Ouch…it definitely hurt to realize what a jerk your boyfriend was. Lana was more than ready to offer sympathy and comfort—

“Brent!” Holly exclaimed, dropping to her knees beside him and trying to rouse him, paying not even a bit of attention to the others. They blinked in shock, their confusion redoubling. That didn’t track at all. Holly was never one to just ignore other people…though Lana had to wonder what she’d seen in Brent in the first place.

A moment later, Brent woke up, and Clark tensed, ready for more trouble. The jock shook his head, then all but jumped to his feet, rage in his brown eyes. “What the hell, Kent?!” he snapped.

“I should be asking you that,” Clark replied calmly, his green eyes never glancing away. “Mind explaining why you were beating up an innocent kid just a minute ago?”

“Innocent?!” the jackass sputtered. “You callin’ Summers innocent?!” He gestured threateningly at Eric, who flinched fearfully.

“Yes, I am,” said Clark firmly, not raising his voice. “Now why did you attack him?”

“He deserves it!” Brent shouted. “He keeps hitting on my girl!”

“That’s not true!” Eric exclaimed, his nerve bolstered by Clark’s courage. “I’m just trying to be nice, that’s all!”

“Yeah right!” the jock thundered, his eyes flashing. “You’re nothing, Summers! You’re just a bug, and I’m gonna pound you into the dirt!” He stomped menacingly forward—

—and yelled in shock and protest as Clark shoved him back again, sending him sprawling. “I don’t think so,” the farm boy said sternly, glaring down at the jock. “You stay away from Eric, or I’ll make you wish I’d just pounded you into the dirt.”

Holly stared at him, looking scared and angry, and Lana only felt more bewildered. What was going on here?

“What’s going on here?!” The stern voice of Principal Kwan startled them, though Clark didn’t jump as Lana and Eric did. The Asian man was marching towards them with obvious anger of his own. “Mr. Kent, what’s the meaning of this?!”

Clark narrowed his eyes a bit, getting an odd feeling in his gut, but kept his tone respectful. “Brent was beating up Eric here, sir. We stepped in to stop him, but he’s not listening to reason. We really don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

Kwan scoffed. “A likely story! Do you honestly expect me to believe that you didn’t attack Mr. Peters here without provocation?”

The odd feeling exploded into a full-blown scream of warning. “What?!” Clark exclaimed, stunned, his eyes now wide.

“That’s ridiculous!” Lana said, outraged. “Brent was whaling on Eric for no good reason! Clark was the only one who had the nerve to put a stop to it! This is a classic case of bullying!”

The principal turned his dark eyes onto her, not a hint of sympathy on his face. “I didn’t ask for your baseless opinion, young lady,” he said sternly.

Her eyes widened in further disbelief, and it was all she could do not to scream at his sudden blatant stupidity. “It’s the truth,” she retorted. “There are multiple witnesses here who’ll say the same thing.”

Kwan glanced around at the ring of onlookers, clearly unimpressed. “They’re not lying, sir,” Eric said timidly, and tried not to wince as those dark eyes locked onto him. “Brent thought I was trying to steal his girlfriend or something. All I did was say hello – and the next thing I know, he’s pounding on me like crazy.”

The principal, whom none of them had ever known to side with bullies, glanced at Brent, who’d gotten back to his feet by now. “Just how did they concoct this story, Mr. Peters?” he inquired.

“No clue, Mr. Kwan,” said Brent, smiling nastily at them. “I ain’t doing anything but spend time with my girlfriend.” He laid a paw on Holly – and to Lana’s disgust, she actually seemed pleased by his dishonesty and possessiveness.

Clark shook his head, completely bewildered, as Kwan turned to him. “Sir—”

“Enough!” the man barked, his face a solid mask. “In my office, Mr. Kent. We need to discuss your violent attitude.”

Clark reeled, his mind throbbing with unquantifiable thoughts of shock, anger, perplexity, frustration, and upset. He looked around helplessly, but aside from the equally perplexed Lana and Eric, nobody in sight seemed willing to back him up. “Now,” said Kwan harshly, and Clark gritted his teeth, trying to keep calm. It looked like his best bet was to come along for now and try to figure out what was going on.

Lana held his hand for as long as she could manage, their fingers dragging over each other before they reluctantly released…and with every step he took away from her and towards whatever Kwan had waiting for him, her upset grew. This was insane! Why in God’s name would the principal suddenly side with a known bully, let alone Brent Peters?! It didn’t make any sense!

She inhaled through her nose, repressing the urge to cry out in frustration, and turned to make sure Eric was okay. Though he was on the skinny side, he wasn’t really small – he stood five foot eleven at a guess and looked to be in decent shape. He wasn’t a mountain of muscle like Clark or any of the jocks, which no doubt explained why Brent had shown so much ease with beating him up – that, and the fact that the jackass had very little brain. “Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked.

Eric nodded, but he was clearly concerned for his savior. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Why would Kwan just ignore us like that? He’s never liked bullies.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, Eric. I just don’t know.” She sighed sadly and noticed that the other students were on the move. “C’mon, let’s get you to the nurse.”

He hesitated. “It doesn’t feel that bad.”

“You’re still cut up,” she pointed out, gentle but firm, “and Brent was pounding on you hard. I just want to make sure you don’t need to be sent home.”

He considered, then nodded, conceding the point. “Okay.” He glanced down and muttered, “Not like my dad would care.”

That made her frown deeply as they started walking. “What do you mean?”

He glanced at her sharply, as if he hadn’t known she could hear him. “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.” He brushed a stray lock of strawberry-blond hair out of his vision.

She didn’t buy that, but she didn’t push either. Mr. Summers was the geology teacher at Smallville High, and rumor had it that he was rather strict with his son – but then, he was rather strict with all the students. Perhaps the rumors were true – Eric’s remark suggested so – but she didn’t think it was her place to pry right now. She had to focus on getting him checked up…and figuring out what the hell was wrong with Kwan.

For that matter, what had that strange invisible barrier been? What was its source? Why would it have suddenly sprung up like that – and around a vicious and unprovoked beating, no less? The whole thing just reeked of some bizarre power at work, perhaps another meteor-infected student—

Vrumm-vrumm! The roar of a motorcycle derailed her train of thought, and she and Eric turned to see it coming near the steps leading up to the double doors of the school, the familiar “Fly to Victory!” banner for the Crows hanging over them. The driver killed the engine and climbed off, dressed all in black – particularly a black leather jacket and sunglasses. Lana didn’t immediately recognize him, though she had a sneaking feeling that he was a jock.

Her suspicion was confirmed a moment later when he whipped off his glasses and ran a hand through his dark hair. Troy Turner, Billy Durden’s “evil twin” – though frankly, she doubted any scare quotes were necessary. He smirked at several girls who’d stopped to look at him, and Lana instinctively recoiled in disgust, hoping he didn’t notice her. Luckily, he didn’t appear to.

A thought struck her just before Eric voiced it: “Since when does Troy have a motorcycle? Doesn’t he have to hitch rides with his buddies?”

“Yeah,” she said, her brow furrowing. “Or with his parents.” She scowled. “I’d sure like to have a talk with them someday.”

“Good luck,” Eric muttered. “They probably think he can do no wrong.”

“Wouldn’t shock me,” she sighed ruefully. “Whitney’s parents were like that last I checked.” She shook her head, then gestured toward the school. “We’ll worry about it later. Let’s get you to the nurse.”

* * * * *
Unfortunately, the nurse didn’t seem to be in. Lana knocked at her door and waited for about half a minute, then tried again. No answer either time, and when she tried the door, it was locked. “That’s not right,” she murmured. “The nurse never fails to show up without warning.”

Eric shifted a bit on his feet, looking uneasy. “Something’s definitely not right,” he said. “First Kwan, now this?”

She nodded, frowning deeply. “This doesn’t make any sense.” She made up her mind. “I’m not leaving Clark all alone with a man who’s blind to the truth. C’mon.”

They turned to go – and the door swung open. They whirled around, startled – and stared in shock. The nurse looked…stoned. Her eyes were heavy with dark circles and unfocused, her clothes were haphazardly thrown on with no regard for taste, her medium-length brown hair looked very messy, and her body swayed uncertainly. This wasn’t mere exhaustion, either – Lana caught a whiff of something that threatened to make her lose her breakfast. “Hiya, dripsh,” the woman slurred, somehow sounding both drunk and high. “What’sh your poison?”

Lana wrinkled her nose, trying to snuff out the stench, then cleared her throat. “Excuse me?”

“Your poison,” the nurse repeated, looking disgruntled that they didn’t immediately understand. “Got plenty of needlesh in here. Everybody’sh wanting one today.”

Needles?! It was all Lana could do to not scream in horror. This couldn’t be real – she was still asleep. She reached down and pinched herself hard.

“Ouch!” she hissed, and rubbed her arm. Alas, her surroundings didn’t change – Eric was still standing beside her, looking bewildered and concerned, and the nurse was still standing stoned in the doorway. Rats. “Um, we don’t want any,” she said, not wanting to risk driving the woman into a fury. “Thank you.”

The nurse stared blurry-eyed at them for a moment, then grumbled to herself and turned back into her office, slamming the door shut. Shaking herself, Lana turned right back around and resumed her course towards Kwan’s office with Eric beside her.

Suddenly, they were interrupted again – but not by an adult. Pete came barreling down the hall and almost crashed into Lana, his face terrified. “Whoa!” she exclaimed. “Pete, what the heck?!”

He grasped her shoulders, looking at her desperately and panting. “Please tell me I’m handsome,” he managed to get out.

What?! She blinked her wide eyes again. “Um…Pete, I’m not the best person to ask,” she said.

“Oh no, don’t say that,” he begged – he looked genuinely desperate. “Am I handsome?!”

“I – I guess,” she said after a startled moment. “Why are you so worried about that today?”

“Because all the other girls I’ve seen today think I’m ugly as hell, that’s why!” he exclaimed. “Even ones that I’ve had good dates with!” He glanced around, then seemed to realize he was holding her tightly and released his grip. “Uh…sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she murmured, rubbing her shoulders a bit. “But are you sure you’re okay?”

“Honestly, I dunno,” he admitted. Then he noticed she had company. “Oh – hi, Eric. Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“Actually, I kinda prefer it that way,” Eric said, waving a hand. “It’s better than being noticed by every bully in school.”

“I hear that,” Pete remarked. Then he grimaced. “Oh, man…and speaking of bullies, you’re not going to believe what’s happened.”

“Could you tell us on the way?” Lana requested, starting to walk again. “We need to get to the principal’s office.”

“What?” Pete said, falling into step just behind her. “Why?”

“Because Kwan wants to punish Clark for defending Eric against one of those bullies,” she said, feeling angry at the mere thought. “And with what we saw from the nurse, I don’t think we can afford to just sit around and hope whatever’s happening blows over.”

“Yeesh,” Pete murmured. “I wish it would blow over – and not just for my sake. You won’t believe what’s happened with—”

“ROSS!”

All three of them nearly collapsed to the floor, screaming in pain, as that horrendously shrill voice cracked several panes of glass. Pete turned around, rubbing at his ears, and Lana and Eric followed suit. Dawn Stiles was marching towards them, her outfit even more hideously pink than usual. “Why the hell haven’t you popped into my office yet?!” she demanded, her dark brown eyes at their harshest and angriest.

Pete gestured helplessly to his companions, unable to regain his voice before the IQ-dropping presence of the queen of lies and smears. Lana’s fury intensified, and she stepped in front of him and held out a hand warningly. “Back off, Dawn,” she said, keeping her voice calm. “You’re not Pete’s boss.”

Dawn stopped in her tracks, glaring at Lana. “The hell I’m not!” she snapped, her voice turning even uglier. “He’s taking my orders from now on, and he’s going to like it!”

“No, no, and no,” said Lana firmly, shooting down each empty claim. “The only person he’s working for is Chloe, and last I checked, he enjoys his job at the Torch.”

“HAH!” Dawn shrieked, cracking more glass, and Lana rubbed at her ears. “That stupid hypocrat doesn’t run the Torch anymore! I do, and now it’s totally amazing!”

Lana’s heart dropped into her stomach. “What?!” she gasped, horrified and sickened and outraged. She glanced at Pete, who nodded miserably, then back at Dawn. “But that’s—”

“Genius,” Dawn insisted, now sneering. “I’ve put the Torch through a massive re-strategy. No more lame articles about that meteor rock crap – nothing but tributes to our local gods.” She looked, for a moment, like a rabid fan-girl – not at all an attractive look for her. Then her features darkened. “And, of course, exposing the big fat losers in this town.”

Lana shook her head, feeling it throb – she was certain that the gossip queen’s voice was killing her brain cells. “That’s not ‘genius’,” she said, “that’s insane. You’re turning the paper into a tabloid rag, and you’re ruining all the work Chloe put into it!”

Dawn scowled, her voice turning uglier still: “Like I care what the poor little orphan girl says. You think you’re so above it all.” The scowl became a smirk. “At least Whitney got some good from you before you completely dumped him.”

Rage exploded within Lana, destroying every last bit of her restraint, and her fist flew forward. Crack! It struck Dawn solidly in the face and knocked her onto the floor – and almost out cold. “Don’t you dare, you lying b*tch,” Lana spat, rubbing her hand. “I was never with Whitney. I wouldn’t touch him if he was the last man on Earth! Maybe you’re convinced that he’s a god, but I know what he is – a monster.”

Pete and Eric stared at her in mute amazement, their jaws hanging. Lana rubbed her hand a moment more, then took a deep breath and turned to them. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice even and quiet. “We’re going to free Clark, and then we’re going to find Chloe and get out of here.”

They followed her without a word, leaving the stunned Dawn on the floor – but they hadn’t gone more than a few paces before the bell split the air and very nearly their eardrums. A moment later, as they recovered from the scream, a deep and dark voice came over the intercom: “That was the warning bell, drips. Anybody who doesn’t get their ass to class in the next minute is gonna get it hard.”

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?! This day was just getting weirder and worse by the second. “That was Whitney,” Lana said, stunned. “What’s he doing on the intercom – and why is he allowed to say that?!”

“No time to explain now,” Pete said urgently, beginning to sprint. “You really don’t want to p*ss him off today. Let’s go!”

* * * * *
They reached their first class – Language Arts, as it happened – just before the tardy bell rang. The teacher, Mrs. Taylor, gave them a disapproving glare, but said nothing, and they got into their seats. A minute later, as she was lecturing the class, there came a timid knock on the closed door. She sighed and gestured for one of the students to open it.

In came Clark, looking thoroughly upset and embarrassed, and Lana’s heart ached for him. Whatever load of crap Kwan had unloaded on him, it had been ugly. He didn’t have a signed excuse for his tardiness handy – no doubt the abruptly insane principal had refused to give him one. Thus, Mrs. Taylor plunked a tardy slip into his reluctant hand and pointed commandingly at his usual seat. Thankfully, it was next to Lana’s, and he looked a little more relieved just to be able to sit beside her.

She gave him a gentle, tender look. That bad?

He nodded, his expression pained. Worse. He glanced at the teacher, who’d resumed her lecture as if he hadn’t come in late, and then whispered almost inaudibly, “Detention until holidays.”

She covered her mouth, her eyes wide and appalled. Oh, no!

He nodded sadly again. Kwan hadn’t been gentle about it in any way – he’d been vicious and vitriolic. That definitely wasn’t like him…and that only made it hurt worse. What could’ve happened to change his behavior so?

She reached over and touched his arm, letting him know without a word that he wasn’t in this alone. He smiled in reply, then jolted a bit as the teacher said their formal names rather sharply. She didn’t chide them further, though – she kept going with her lecture.

…if it could even be called a lecture. Lana tried to listen attentively, despite her earlier desire to get her friends out of this sudden place of insanity…but she realized after less than a minute that Mrs. Taylor was simply babbling inanely. Not a single coherent word was coming from her mouth.

Lana grimaced, feeling very frustrated, and looked to Clark – he shared her expression. She glanced at Pete and Eric, saw that they weren’t any more enlightened, and gestured for them to huddle together as best they could. “Something weird is going on,” she whispered when they’d done so, “and I’m not in a mood to put up with it.”

“Neither am I,” Clark agreed, glancing at the teacher – she didn’t seem to have noticed yet. “Kwan just ripped into me, accused me of ‘using upstanding young citizens as punching bags’.” He scowled in disgust. “He said I was lucky to not be suspended or expelled.”

“That’s sick,” Pete whispered.

“Not as sick as Nurse Ingram,” Lana remarked. “She looked like she’d overdosed on drugs or something, and she offered us needles.”

Eric nodded, dismayed. “And we can’t forget the jocks suddenly getting free reign, or Dawn stealing the Torch from Chloe,” he pointed out.

Clark glanced around and sighed – now that Eric mentioned it, he didn’t see Chloe anywhere in the classroom, and she absolutely refused to be tardy even when she was struggling with the paper’s deadline. “Well, whatever’s happening, I don’t think we’re going to figure it out by sitting in here,” he noted. “I think we’d better—”

“Mr. Kent!”

They jolted at the snap from the teacher – then Clark and Lana turned as one to face her, their friends turning more nervously. “Yes, ma’am?” he asked calmly.

“Since you seem so certain that you don’t have to pay attention in order to succeed in this class,” she said harshly, barely even pausing to breath, “perhaps you can demonstrate your knowledge repeatedly. I think that a thousand repetitions of a sentence appropriate to the current subject would suffice. Or, as we have a comprehensive paper due in lieu of a midterm examination, perhaps you would care to share it with the entire class here and now; I’m quite sure that your peers will be bowled over by your superior insight and demonstration of intellect. Or perhaps you would care to undergo an examination this very day in addition to the paper, and thus demonstrate your comprehensive—”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Taylor,” Lana interrupted, raising her hand. “Could you say that again so we can all understand?”

The teacher frowned, then continued as if she hadn’t been cut off. “Mr. Kent,” she said, ignoring Lana, “as we have a comprehensive paper due in lieu of a midterm examination, perhaps you would care to share it with the entire class here and now. I’m quite sure that your peers will be bowled over by your superior insight and demonstration of intellect. Or perhaps you would care to undergo an examination this very day in addition to the paper, and thus demonstrate your—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Pete stopped her, holding up both hands. “Ma’am, this is English, not Gibberish. Talk some sense, please.”

Mrs. Taylor gave him a dark look, then turned it on Clark and resumed repeating herself: “I’m quite sure that your peers will be bowled over by your superior insight and demonstration of intellect. Or perhaps you would care to undergo an examination this very day in addition to the paper, and thus demonstrate—”

“GET ON WITH IT!” a number of students suddenly yelled in unison, Clark and Lana among them. They didn’t even blink at each other.

Mrs. Taylor, however, did blink. She stared at them, then scowled murderously. “As I was saying,” she chided, “perhaps you would care to undergo an examination this very day in addition to the paper, and thus demons—”

Clark stood up and stared at her. For a moment, that was all he did – but it was enough to cut her off completely. “Here’s something I do care to demonstrate,” he said calmly after that moment had passed. “I’m not learning anything in here today – are you guys?”

“NO!” the students said firmly.

“I didn’t think so,” he remarked. “Well, Mrs. Taylor, since you don’t seem to be able to teach, maybe you should take the rest of this period off.” His voice became concerned. “Honestly, you don’t look so good.”

The woman opened and closed her mouth, but no words came. Clark sighed heavily and apologetically, then held out his hand to Lana. She readily took it and rose from her seat, Pete and Eric following suit a moment later. “Let’s go find Chloe,” she murmured. “And then let’s see how the others are doing.”

He nodded assent and walked towards the door with her. However, Mrs. Taylor abruptly recovered her power of speech. “STOP RIGHT THERE!” she shrieked. They winced, but didn’t stop. “STOP, OR I’LL FLUNK YOU!”

“Go ahead and try,” said Lana, looking at her firmly. “If you’re going to numb our minds with babble while the principal sides with bullies over the people who stop them, we don’t need to be here anyway.”

Clark felt a proud smile threatening to split his face, and he rubbed his girlfriend’s shoulder gently as he reached out to open the door—

—and a thoroughly gaudy and unwelcome sight stood on the other side. Lana stopped in her tracks, staring at the big yellow S on some kind of red shield right in front of her…then she looked up and around, her heart sinking. The symbol lay on a massive chest covered by a bodysuit of dark blue spandex that ended in short black boots and left the hands exposed, a red cape extending from the shoulders to just past the knees. Admittedly, the chest wasn’t as massive as Clark’s, but it was large…

…and it was Whitney’s. The jock king had combed his blond hair back and to his left, and his face held more arrogance than usual. “Well, well, well,” he drawled, his cold blue eyes tracking from Clark’s warm greens to Lana’s deep hazels. He didn’t even look at Pete and Eric – as if they were nothing to him. “What have we here?”

Clark recovered his voice – shock had stolen it away. “I could ask you the same, Whitney,” he said. “What the heck are you wearing?”

“I tried to warn you,” Pete murmured to Lana, feeling utterly miserable.

Whitney sneered at his nemesis. “I’m glad you asked, Kent,” he said cockily. He posed dramatically, his cape billowing a bit, and smirked. “I am the champion of Smallville High. I am the embodiment of all that is perfect. I am…the Crow.”

Utter silence fell. For what seemed like forever, Clark and Lana just stared at him…then they looked at each other…

…and broke down laughing. Clark doubled over, unable to help his mirth, and Lana collapsed to the floor, clutching her gut. The stupid smirk on Whitney’s face vanished like smoke, his eyes turning icy and his hands clenching with fury. Pete and Eric looked at each other, unsure whether to laugh or be nervous.

Several minutes later, Clark and Lana settled down, wiping at their eyes. Small giggles still escaped her as she spoke, though: “You dressed up…as a comic book character?! Seriously, Whitney? I didn’t think you were into that kind of thing.”

“And not just a comic book character,” Clark added, grinning like a loon. “But the star of Flaming Crow’s Feet, practically the school mascot’s alter-ego!” He shook his head. “You know, you could’ve gone for one of the X-Men, or even Spider-Man – or Warrior Angel, if you’re not a Marvel Comics fan. I don’t think Justin’s going to be too happy about you ripping off his idea.”

“I know I wouldn’t be,” Lana agreed, shaking her head. “Art’s a very personal thing.”

Whitney scowled at them both, his teeth gritting behind his thin lips. “So you think I’m some kind of joke, eh?” he snarled.

Clark shrugged. “Frankly, yes.”

Whitney’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar of his red plaid shirt, hauling him close before he could react – and that was fast, given Clark’s own speed. “Well, laugh this off, dweeb,” the jock growled, his eyes suddenly blazing nuclear-red – and he whirled around, dragging Clark through the doorway and throwing him down the hall, sending him tumbling seemingly helplessly towards the nearest wall.

“CLARK!” Lana screamed, horrified, and made to lunge forward – but she froze as Whitney turned those white-red eyes on her, half-sneering and half-scowling. She backed up, clenching her fists even though she doubted it would make much difference. “Stay away from me, you nutcase!” she snapped.

He leered at her, his eyes still blazing – and to her even greater horror and disgust, the trunk area of his dark blue suit was starting to bulge. “I don’t think so,” he drawled. “Your stupid hick boyfriend never gave you a roll in the hay like I’m goiIEEAAARGH!!!”

He jerked and arched as he howled with agony, his eyes going wide and losing their power – and as she looked just behind him, she saw that Clark hadn’t been so easily taken out of the game: he’d recovered quickly, whipped his head around, and fired his heat vision very precisely despite the distance. The bolts of fire had charred through Whitney’s cape and struck him right in the ass – and even now, she could see more of them hitting home. The bastard staggered to one side, smashing into the side of the doorway and knocking out pieces of the wall – and it, too, clearly hurt him.

She seized the opportunity and swung her foot up, hitting his groin with a Thwack! His howls of pain cut off, the breath flooding out of him, and he collapsed like a rag doll; Clark ceased fire and rose to his feet. “RUN!” Lana screamed, and bolted past Whitney with Eric and Pete close behind; Clark hurried up to them and grabbed her hand, and they skedaddled down the hall.

[superman_lives_on]

The Chronicles of Smallville: Morpheus

* * * * *
By the time Whitney recovered and went charging in the direction he thought his would-be prey had gone, they’d already found a hiding place – a classroom that wasn’t being used. Clark huddled with Lana, Pete and Eric keeping a respectful distance, and tracked the bastard via x-ray. Once he was certain Whitney was gone, he whispered, “I think it’s clear.”

They nodded and rose with him, stretching. “God, that was so scary,” Lana whispered, feeling her heart. “For a moment…I thought we were done for.”

“I know the feeling,” Clark murmured, holding her close. “This has gone way beyond weird – people are in danger.”

“Us included,” Pete grimaced, looking around the room. “I haven’t seen Chloe at all today, but I know she’s here – I saw her car in the parking lot when I pulled up.” He shook his head. “God, I can’t even imagine how devastated she must’ve been to see that Dawn stole her job, her whole career.”

“And judging from what Dawn said, she’s practically put up posters of the football jocks in general and Whitney in particular,” Lana agreed, disgusted. “We need to find Chloe and our other friends and get out of here.”

“We will,” Clark vowed. He looked gently at the fourth member of their group. “I hope you don’t mind sticking with us, Eric.”

“Are you kidding?” Eric chuckled. “I’d much rather be stuck with you guys than a single jock. You saved my life, remember?”

Clark grinned apologetically. “Touché. Pete, do you have any idea where Chloe might’ve gone?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Pete admitted. “I tried checking around, but I didn’t have much of a chance – Dawn was screeching at me to dig up dirt on something or other.” He considered. “But knowing Chloe, if she was this upset…she’d probably want someplace that she could keep out of everyone’s sight. Maybe a place like this.” He gestured around them.

“Then we’ll start looking in any unused classrooms,” Lana said. “And in the meantime, we’d better find Jenna, Megan and the rest. I’m sure they’ve seen some of the danger by now.”

Clark nodded and moved towards the door, x-raying for said danger – and he spotted it instantly. “Get back,” he whispered, crouching just out of sight and listening. His companions did so, though Pete and Eric looked confused.

A moment later, they heard voices coming through the door. Clark closed his eyes and tried to listen more intently…and recognized them. “You sure you haven’t seen them, guys?” said Whitney’s dark, arrogant baritone.

“Not a sign, man,” came Brent’s equally arrogant voice. “And I’ve been looking for that stupid Summers kid – he needs to learn not to steal my girl.”

“I’ll make sure he does, Brent,” Whitney assured him smoothly, sending a nasty shudder down Clark’s spine. “You both keep your eyes out, okay? And let all the others know.”

“You got it, Captain,” said the other jock, whose voice Clark couldn’t immediately put to a name. A moment later, it became academic – they were moving away. He opened his eyes and scanned, waiting until they were gone to stand back up and reach for the doorknob.

He silently guided his friends out of the room and in a direction that none of the three jocks had gone. A quick check showed that Whitney was heading outside, while Brent and the other were walking towards the gym. “C’mon,” he whispered. “Nobody’s in the cafeteria right now. We’ll hide there until the next class, then try to sneak through the crowd and get to it.”

“Uh, Clark,” Pete said hesitantly. “I don’t mean to rain on the parade, but our next class is Biology. Whitney’s not in it, but his new squeeze is.”

“Don’t remind me,” Lana murmured, feeling sick. Pete, of course, meant Alicia Baker, who’d never struck her as anything more than a snob – and quite likely gullible enough to swallow Whitney’s lies.

“Sorry, Lana,” Pete said, holding up his hands. “But she is gonna be in there.”

“Won’t your friend Jenna be, too?” Eric pointed out. “I know Chloe is.”

“That’s right, Eric,” Clark nodded. “Jenna and Chloe sit right next to each other.” He swallowed, thinking. “Okay – you guys can go on to class and stay out of anyone’s notice. Just get Jenna and the others out. I’ll remain close by so we can all get away at once.”

“Good idea,” Lana said. “No offense, Clark, but you stick out in a crowd.”

So do you, Clark thought with a small, warm smile despite the circumstances. “None taken, Lana,” he assured her. “I trust you guys to get them out. If we haven’t found Chloe by then, I’ll keep looking.”

She nodded and glanced at Pete and Eric. “Agreed, boys?”

“Agreed,” they said, holding out their hands on top of each other. Clark and Lana smiled gravely and joined them, sealing the pact. Then they made for the cafeteria, hoping the benches and such would break the line of sight for anyone who came in. Luckily, nobody did – not even the lunch ladies. When the bell rang to signal the end of first period, the four fugitives from injustice made their way into the halls, managing to blend in with the crowd – well, except for Clark. Even so, they all avoided being spotted by any jocks, and Lana and Pete were soon walking into the Biology classroom. Once they were in, Clark and Eric ducked into another empty classroom nearby.

Even though Lana and Pete got into the classroom well before the bell rang, the incredibly aged teacher, Mrs. Kowalski, glared at them as if they’d arrived ten minutes late. They ignored her, hoping very badly that Mrs. Taylor hadn’t told her anything about the events in Language Arts – no doubt such a tale would be biased. Fortunately, she didn’t seem interested in making an example of them.

Chloe wasn’t in her usual spot beside Jenna, and both Pete and Lana were now sure that she was somewhere else in the building. “Jenna,” Lana whispered, taking the empty seat, “have you seen Chloe around?”

Jenna shook her head, puzzled and worried. “Not one bit. Why?”

“We think she’s in danger,” Lana explained, glancing at Mrs. Kowalski – luckily, she was in the middle of one of her droning lectures, infamous for their extremely soporific qualities. “We think a lot of people are in danger, including you. We need to find her and the others and get out of the school.”

Jenna’s gentle blue eyes widened, and she bit her lip, nodding. They looked at the teacher, trying to figure out the right time to sneak out of the classroom. Abruptly, she paused in her effort to put everyone to sleep and brought out some papers, then began passing them down the desks. Ah – their graded homework, the last problems they’d worked out before the big push to midterms.

But what Lana, Pete, Jenna, and several other students saw on those papers was not at all encouraging. “F?!” Lana whispered, stunned. “No…that can’t be right. It can’t be.”

She looked at her friends, and they had similar looks of disbelief and dismay. “As you can see,” droned Mrs. Kowalski, “most of you have failed this assignment. Those who have failed will be detained after class and will likely receive detention. Those few who have not will receive citations and be allowed to eat in the presence of our golden gods at lunch. All hail the Crow.”

They glanced sharply at her, then at each other. Lana noticed Alicia sneering at them – evidently, the blonde had been one of those to receive a good grade. While she certainly wasn’t a bad student, just the opposite, Lana couldn’t help a surge of anger towards her. She was certain that the grades had been rigged instead of being given on a basis of actual merit. This madness, whatever it truly was, threatened to ruin everyone’s academic record…except, of course, for those who didn’t deserve credit for anything but being jackasses.

She tried to ignore Alicia and the teacher both, focusing on the closed door to the hall. It was their best chance of escape.

“…and now, it is time for an object demonstration of biological processes in animals,” Mrs. Kowalski’s voice droned, despite Lana’s efforts to block it out. “Miss Baker.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kowalski,” Alicia grated, rising from her seat with a sickening smile. Lana rubbed at her ears – that voice was very nearly as irritating as Dawn’s. Then something dawned on her. An object demonstration? But that would mean—

The horror and disgust of realization struck her yet again even as the door clicked and began to open. On a sudden screaming instinct, she dived under her desk, hissing to Pete and Jenna, “Down!” They followed suit, dropping out of sight – just before Whitney stepped into the room, still wearing that ridiculous outfit and arrogant smirk.

Lana didn’t even bother listening to Mrs. Kowalski as she directed Whitney and Alicia to clear off the desk. She crawled towards the open door – thankfully, the mechanism to make it swing closed had been broken for weeks, and it had a tendency to stick even when that wasn’t the case. Her heart pounded as she drew nearer, trying to keep out of sight, and she was sure that Pete and Jenna were just as terrified.

The teacher ordered Alicia to climb onto the desk, which she did with that sick little smile, and then said something to Whitney – but Lana didn’t hear it. She reached the door and crawled out and around it, emerging into the hall by a set of lockers. Her friends were close behind, and they got back to their feet as they moved out of sight of the doorway. Suddenly, they heard footsteps and froze, holding their breath.

One of the students who’d received a bad grade – even though normally, he got good grades – came to the door and closed it, giving them the briefest, slightest nod of acknowledgement. They relaxed, starting to breathe again – then Lana waved them forward, and they crouched low just in case as they made their way to the empty classroom nearby. She opened the door and reached a hand through – and someone else’s took it, giving it a friendly squeeze.

Lana went through – and stared in stunned joy at the person who’d met her. “Megan!” she gasped, and threw her arms around her dear friend. “Haley!” she then added, seeing the other cheerleader behind Megan. “How’d you find us?”

“Well, when we realized everything was going crazy,” Haley provided, “we figured our best chance was to hide.” She gestured to the room, smiling. “Turns out you guys had the same idea. And don’t worry about Delia or Chrissy, or Billy and Abby – they’ve already gotten away. Not sure where they are – but it’s probably better that way.”

“We know that Whitney’s looking for you, Lana,” Megan said, holding her tightly. “And he knows that we’re loyal to you. We weren’t going to let him get a chance to use us.”

“Thank God you didn’t,” Lana breathed. She and Megan exchanged quick kisses on the cheeks, then separated so that Lana could move past and into Clark’s waiting arms. “Any sign of Chloe?”

“Not yet,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “But we will find her, Lana – I promise.”

“We’d better,” said Pete firmly, closing the door behind them. “I’m not leaving my best friend alone in this hellhole.” Jenna nodded, then walked over with him to Eric and the two cheerleaders, giving Clark and Lana their moment alone.

It ended with obvious reluctance, and the not-so-secret couple remained close as Clark addressed their friends. “We should use this time to track down Chloe. But we need to stay alert – Whitney and his thugs are patrolling the halls and outside.” He grimaced. “For those of you who don’t know, his costume isn’t just for showing off – he has some kind of superpowers, and he’s more than willing to use them without any warning.”

“Figures,” Jenna muttered, shaking her head. “Another psychopath with weird abilities, and a bunch of jackasses to boot. I wish they’d just go away.”

Eric looked at her gently. “So do I,” he said. “Even when they don’t have powers, they’re bad news.”

She smiled sympathetically at him. “Sounds like you speak from experience too.”

“I think quite a few of us can,” Lana agreed. “You all know that Chloe’s been investigating cases like this, and she believes that they’re all tied to the meteor shower—”

“—which is probably a reason why Dawn and Whitney got her out of the picture so early,” Clark surmised. “I’m guessing that some kind of meteor infection is responsible for all this insanity.”

“One or both of them may be influencing people’s minds,” Lana nodded. “And I don’t think we’ll be able to stop it like this, sneaking around and keeping our eyes on each other.”

Everyone shook their heads. “Right now, we do need to focus on getting ourselves to safety,” Clark said gently. “But I don’t think we’re the only ones in danger. We need to figure out how to get them to safety too—”

“—and we need to figure out how Dawn and Whitney are doing this,” Lana continued, “so that we can stop it. So, here’s our plan of attack for now. Number One priority is to find Chloe—”

“—while Number Two,” said Clark, “is to find a safer hideout for everyone—”

“—Number Three is to get everyone to that hideout—”

“—and Number Four is to solve the mystery of this madness. Are we all agreed?”

The others blinked, looking surprised and a little unnerved – but then they nodded. “Good,” said Clark, giving them an encouraging smile. “Pete, you know Chloe better than probably anyone – what do you think we should do?”

Pete considered. “Well, the Torch is out – Dawn controls that. I say we check my locker, then hers. She might’ve left something that’ll tell us where she’s gone.” He glanced at the door, frowning. “Actually, I think we’re close to my locker right now.”

“Okay, then we’ll check there,” Clark said. “I’ll go with you – Lana, you look after the others.”

She nodded and squeezed his hand, then let him go as Pete opened the door. They checked around outside, saw nobody, and hurried silently to Pete’s locker. He glanced at the vent. “Aha,” he whispered. “Looks like she shoved a note inside.” He spun the lock in the oft-used combination, got it off, and opened the door – sure enough, a small piece of paper had been folded and stuck into the vent. He got it out, opened it, and read…and furrowed his brow. He showed it to Clark – it had the words “Drama Room” scrawled on it in Chloe’s handwriting and a crude little map.

“Drama room?” Clark echoed, blinking. He got it at the same moment Pete did, and they quickly closed the locker without making a noise and headed back to the safe-room.

“We found something,” Pete reported, passing the paper around. “You know the story of the old drama room?”

Eric shook his head, frowning. “No. I didn’t know any such room existed.”

“Most people don’t,” Lana admitted. “It’s kind of a forgotten legend.”

“Right,” Pete nodded. “But Chloe heard about it – and I think she found it.”

“So that’s where she’s hiding!” Jenna exclaimed, looking at the note. “That’s brilliant! Who’d ever think to look there?”

“And that’s where we need to be,” Clark said, having memorized the little map. “C’mon, let’s hurry—”

“Attention, drones,” came the static-crackled voice of Principal Kwan, bringing them up short. “The illustrious king of our golden gods has granted me leave to inform you that all classes are to be canceled immediately – and permanently. To all who have embraced the new order, he also gives this message: It’s open season, guys. Hunt down those losers and bring them to me – there’s plenty of rewards waiting for you. To those who have refused to bow to the inevitable, he says: We’re coming to get you, dweebs. You can’t run or hide, so just give up now.”

The echo of those chilling words had scarcely died away before there came the repeated crashing of doors being thrown open and the bustle of people spilling out into the halls. “Oh, no,” Lana whispered, gripping Clark’s hand in a panic. “What are we going to do?”

He looked around, but not just at the room, and grimaced. “He’s right about one thing – we can’t hide here anymore. People are already coming towards this room. We need to get to the drama room pronto.”

She nodded and followed him to the door – sadly, it was the only one out of there. “Brace yourselves,” he said softly. “Get ready to run.” After giving them a moment to do so, he threw the door open.

They hadn’t gotten more than a few paces out when a shrill voice yelled, “THERE THEY ARE!” Felice Chandler, the ditzy blonde captain of the cheerleading squad, pointed at them with her manicured pink nails, her expensive blue coat matching her icy eyes. “GET THEM!”

How the hell did I ever think she was hot?! Pete thought angrily to himself even as Clark bellowed, “RUN!” They ran for their lives, Clark staying in the front and knocking aside anyone who tried to stop them. Surprisingly, not many of the students were interested in doing so – in fact, they were closing ranks behind the fleeing fugitives from injustice, blocking the efforts of their pursuers.

Whitney appeared, his cape billowing and his eyes blazing white-red – but this time, Clark was ready for him. He waited until the jock king was almost on top of him, then ducked low and shoved hard to one side. Whitney cried out in frustration as he was thrown right into several of his cronies, knocking them over like bowling pins. A number of students immediately surrounded them, keeping them from easily chasing down their quarry.

Onward ran Clark and his friends, never letting go of each other’s hands if they could help it – and almost before they knew it, they’d reached an area empty of any students. “Here!” he gasped, gesturing with his free hand towards a door with a translucent window. Pete dived forward and got it open, then waited until his friends had gotten inside to rush after them and close it. He did it just in time – the sound of their pursuers catching up had begun to grow near.

They huddled together in the dark room, waiting with hitched breaths and pounding hearts…but sure enough, the sound faded away. Thank God…they’d made it.

* * * * *
The drama room was large and somehow ancient, at least relatively speaking. When Clark flicked on the lights, that became all too apparent. A spinning mirror ball, a refugee from the days of disco, hung from the center of the ceiling, sending tiny spots of light chasing each other around the walls. From the ceiling also hung several antique chandeliers, and on the walls were costumes of every description. Several full-length mirrors stood below the disco ball, and before those lay a small pile of blankets.

On the blankets, stretched out face-up, lay Chloe Sullivan. She looked to be asleep, which was astonishing…until Pete got close and saw the telltale silvery trails of tears on her cheeks, not quite dry. She’d cried herself to sleep.

His heart ached for her. Dear God…she’d been even more devastated than he’d feared. But she hadn’t let even that stop her from leaving him and the others a map to find her. He swallowed nervously, unable to move for a moment…even with those hints of sorrow and grief, she looked so beautiful like this. The moment passed, though, and he tentatively reached a hand out to touch her gently.

She stirred, emitting a low murmur…then her eyes twitched and blinked open. They widened as they focused on him. “Pete?” she whispered.

He nodded, unable to hold back a grin. “It’s me, Chloe,” he said gently. “And I brought the others.”

She sat up on the blankets and pulled him into a hug, moaning in relief. “Thank God,” she breathed. “Thank God you made it.”

He readily accepted the hug, surprised at how tender it felt. Granted, Chloe had shown herself to be amenable to hugs with him and Clark before – but this one felt somehow different. In fact, she seemed different from her usual self…and it wasn’t hard to deduce why.

After a long moment, they parted it – and she immediately gave Clark a hug too. “That crazy b*tch had me seriously scared,” she said earnestly. “And I heard Whitney’s message over the intercom before first period. He’s gunning for you guys, isn’t he?”

“He’s gunning for all of us, Chloe,” Clark confirmed, “including you. I’m glad you knew of a safe place.” He gestured around them and smiled. “Great work.”

She smiled a bit, though it seemed watery, and accepted a hug from Lana. “We were so worried, Chloe,” the brunette vowed. “We knew you could look after yourself, but we feared what they might’ve done to you. Thank God they didn’t.”

Chloe sighed. “They did something, Lana,” she said grimly. “They took my baby away.” Her hands became fists. “And I’m not going to let that slide.”

“None of us will,” Pete assured her, touching her arm. “We’re going to spring everybody who’s in danger, get them to safety, then figure out a way to kick some ass.”

She laughed at that. “They won’t know what hit them,” she agreed. She adjusted her position on the blankets, leaving some room for Pete and Lana while the others sat around them, forming a loose circle. “So, what’d I miss?”

They filled her in, and she visibly became more focused on the problem at hand. “Sounds like we really do need to plan a full-scale evacuation,” she summarized. “Any ideas?”

“We should try to get help from the police,” Clark immediately suggested. “This whatever-it-is only seems to be affecting the school right now. Chances are anyone away from it is still sane.”

“And whether or not the police help,” Lana added, “I bet Lex will. He certainly has the resources to move a bunch of people away quickly.”

Pete nodded, reluctantly conceding that point. “And, like you guys said earlier, we have to figure out what’s causing this. I don’t remember any meteor case ever being quite this intense.”

“They haven’t been,” Chloe admitted. “Even Harry Volk’s rampage or the Scarecrow Killer’s didn’t involve a bunch of people going nuts and gunning for the few who kept their heads.” She bit her lip, thinking hard. “Actually, I don’t think we ever found any evidence that the Scarecrow Killer was meteor-infected, even though he had a knack for getting into houses without leaving any helpful traces.”

Clark and Lana tried not to shudder. Alas, they remembered all too well the true nature of that murderer. “Let’s stay focused on the now,” Clark said gently. “Whitney has greater-than-normal strength, Dawn has taken over the paper, the adults are doing exactly what they want, and the jocks are following them readily.”

“And the jocks’ girlfriends,” Jenna said grimly. “Felice was the one who busted us when we came out of that classroom.”

“Not to mention that Holly didn’t say a thing when Brent was being a jackass,” Eric noted, shuddering. Lana winced – though his cuts had sealed and weren’t large, they were still very visible.

Jenna had noticed too, and she looked at him compassionately. “He did this to you?” she whispered.

Eric nodded, sniffing. “I guess I’m not allowed to say hello to his girlfriend.”

Haley and Megan gave him similar compassionate looks, then turned back to the main quartet. “So basically, a bunch of people in the school have gone nuts,” the latter said. “What could’ve caused that?”

They all looked at each other, then shrugged. “Nothing’s coming to mind right now,” Chloe sighed. “And I hate admitting that – I’m supposed to have the wits handy.”

“I think in this case, we can forgive you, Chloe,” Pete said, grinning and ruffling her hair. She didn’t protest – she just smiled wryly at him.

Lana smiled as well, then cleared her throat. “I guess we can table that discussion for now. We need to get out of here before we can do anything else.”

“Yeah,” Clark murmured thoughtfully, “and when we do, we’re bound to be chased. We need to lose those guys somehow.”

She nodded, her brow furrowing prettily. “Maybe we could go one place, but make them think we’re going somewhere else.”

They looked at each other – and inspiration struck like a bolt from the blue. “That’s it!” she exclaimed. “I know where we can hide until we go to see Lex!”

“Where?” Jenna asked eagerly, and the others leaned in to hear.

“Yes, Lana, do tell us where,” came a horribly unwelcome voice. “I’d really like to know.”

They whirled around, leaping to their feet. “Alicia!” Lana exclaimed. “How did you—”

“—get in here?” the blonde interrupted, her dark brown eyes gleaming with malice as she smirked at them. “I have a knack for getting into places I’m not supposed to.” She glanced at all of them. “Oh – but it looks like, in this case, you’re not supposed to be here. Tsk tsk.” She waved a finger at them—

—then, before they could react, there was a flash of green light, and she just disintegrated into a cloud of bright green particles – only to reappear right beside Lana and grab hold of her, tugging at her silvery cross necklace. An instant later, in another green flash, they were both gone.

“LANA!” Clark cried before he could stop himself. He looked around wildly, then charged to the door and flung it open, peering out. His eyes locked onto a specific spot, and he barked, “Stay here!” The others froze in place, bewildered, as he ran outside, shut the door so they couldn’t see him properly, and vanished down the hall.

* * * * *
Lana cried out involuntarily as she was thrown to the floor elsewhere, landing roughly. She scrambled to her feet, trying to get away from Alicia – but in a green flash, the blonde psycho reappeared right in front of her, smirking. She tried again, to the same result, and stopped. It was so hard not to sob in fear and frustration, but she managed it.

“Look at you,” Alicia sneered shrilly. “You’re nothing special at all.” She shook her head. “I really don’t get what Whitney ever saw in you. You’re not pretty – you have a face like a squirrel, for crying out loud.”

Lana gritted her teeth, refusing to let the cruel words hurt her – but they did anyway, no matter how little value the twisted opinion of a psycho held. “And you’re definitely not smart,” Alicia went on, circling her. “You can’t even read those books you pretend to be so fond of.” Her voice turned babyish: “You just buy them hoping to find some pretty pictures, don’t you?”

Lana didn’t dignify that lie with an answer. She glanced sharply around without moving her eyes too far from Alicia, trying to pinpoint her location. It was the gym, of all places – plenty of open space and nobody else in sight, and they were near the doors. Perhaps that was why the blonde had chosen it – to torment her further with the seeming possibility of evading attack.

Alicia smirked. “Face it, Lana – you’re a dumb little b*tch. But you like it rough, I’ll give you that. And you and I both know how rough Whitney gets.”

“No,” said Lana after a moment of pure disgust. “I don’t know for myself, Alicia. I never did. Whitney and Dawn are full of crap.”

In a swift motion, Alicia drew a very sharp knife and brandished it. “Wrong,” she said quietly, threateningly. “You’re the one who’s full of crap. And now, I’m going to see what it looks like when it all spills out.” She raised the knife, and Lana stumbled desperately back—

CRASH! “GET AWAY FROM HER, YOU B*TCH!” Clark bellowed as he charged into the room through the knocked-open door, startling Alicia. Lana ran for it, trying to scream a warning—

—only for Alicia to vanish just before Clark could reach her. But though his body was currently slow, his eyes weren’t – he saw her beginning to reform just behind Lana, and with a surge of fury, he opened fire. The heat struck the psycho just as she finished appearing, and she screamed in pain and shock as it knocked her over; the knife went spinning from her hand across the floor.

He hurried to a stunned Lana and pulled her close, and she choked out a sob of relief. “Clark,” she whispered, burying her face in his chest, “thank God for you.”

He felt very warm inside at that, at the knowledge that he’d been in time to save her once again. “Thank God for you, Lana,” he replied, kissing her head. She sighed softly, and he felt even warmer—

—and his instincts screamed a warning at him. He looked up in time to see Alicia appear above her knife in a flurry of green. She grabbed it and rose to her feet, scowling murderously at them both. “Nice try, Kent,” she sneered, “but that’s not the only toy I brought along to play with.” She thrust a hand into her pocket and flung something at him—

—and fiery agony shot through his veins; he gasped and lost his grip on Lana, falling backwards to the floor, as her meteor rock necklace hit him in the side and clattered to the floor—

“CLARK!” Lana screamed, instinctively kneeling to stay close to him – then she looked around and spotted the necklace lying about a foot away, and rage propelled her towards it—

“Ah-ah-ah!” Alicia snapped, grabbing it away in a flurry of green particles. She reappeared holding it against Clark’s head, the knife to his throat – and Lana gasped in horror as she saw his blood vessels turning green beneath his skin, which was becoming gray and cracked—

“Watch now, little orphan b*tch,” Alicia sneered, adjusting her grip on the knife. “Watch me cut your boyfriend’s throat – and get his blood all over your hands.”

Time slowed to a crawl. Clark groaned helplessly as Alicia prepared to do the deadly deed…Lana clutched at her own throat, feeling the cool metal of the cross searing into her skin, though it was not painful…she closed her eyes, not strong enough to see it happen, and whispered desperately in her mind: Please, God…help us…

…and out of thin air, there arose a low, grating sound: …vr-rr-rh-h-hmm, vrrr-rhh-hmm…

Alicia screamed. Lana’s eyes flew open – and incredibly, a golden beam of sunlight was shining through the window out of the otherwise ironclad sky, right into the psycho’s face. She fell back, losing her grip on both the necklace and the knife – they tumbled away before the latter could cut into Clark, clattering to the floor—

—and the noise sounded some more: …vr-r-r-rhh-hmm, vr-r-r-rh-h-hm-m…vr-rr…hh…hm…m…

Then it was gone again, as if it had never existed. So too was the sunlight, vanishing behind the thick gray clouds that left the whole sky steely and cold. But Alicia was writhing on the floor, clutching at her eyes, and Clark was groaning, trying to sit up.

Lana dove at the necklace, avoiding the knife despite her haste, and flung it away. The instant it got out of range of Clark, he sat up fully, the traces of sweat on his skin simply gone like the noise and sunlight. She grabbed him in a hug, sobbing fully, and he held her. Not a word was said for long moments.

Eventually, they rose to their feet and looked down at Alicia. Her hands slowly moved away, and they stared in shock. Her eyes were completely white now, the irises covered by cataracts. Lana had suspected the psycho had been flash-blinded – but it looked like she’d been permanently blinded. In a way, she supposed, it was fitting.

She looked up at Clark, raising her eyebrows questioningly. He considered, then gestured towards the door. Leave her. She can’t really hurt us or anyone else now.

She nodded, seeing his point, and they left together, heading back towards the drama room. They reached it without encountering anyone, and as they slipped inside and closed the door, Chloe almost knocked them over with the speed and force of her hug. “What happened?” she asked in a hush.

Clark and Lana shrugged, but accepted the hug. “Not really sure,” he admitted. “But Alicia’s been blinded. For some reason, the sun shone through at just the right moment.”

Lana added, “Remember that weird noise we heard at the Beanery?” Chloe nodded, puzzled. “It came back. No idea what caused it, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a car backfiring.”

“Oh,” Chloe murmured, her eyes wide. Then she shook herself. “Never mind. I think this needs to wait.”

“Definitely,” Pete said, giving Lana a quick hug. “We have to get out of here before more people find us.”

Clark nodded, feeling a bit guilty for just running out on them and not bothering to be quiet. Pete noticed and waved a hand. “Not your fault, man. The blame for that lies with Alicia, and it sounds like she’s been punished already.”

“Good riddance to her,” Lana muttered. “Now let’s just hope we can escape without running into Whitney.”

* * * * *
Alas, it was not to be so. The eight “fugitives” made their way out of the drama room, turning off the lights as they went, and headed for the front doors. They got out without seeing anyone, they hurried down the steps, they turned towards the parking lot—

“HALT!” a voice bellowed from on high. They stopped and whirled to see a gaudy but menacing figure on the roof, glaring down at them. They turned to run—

—and Whitney, alias the Crow, lunged from the roof and half-hurtled, half-glided downwards in an arc, his red cape billowing. He landed in front of them, cracking the asphalt, and put his hands on his hips, his eyes blazing with that eerie white-red light again. “Just where do you think you’re going?” he sneered.

“Away from here,” said Clark bluntly. “Get out of our way, Whitney. I won’t say it twice.”

The jock king bared his white teeth and cracked his knuckles, the muscles flexing under his skintight dark blue bodysuit. “Or what, sh*t-shoveler?”

Clark stepped forward and swung his fist right into Whitney’s face before the bastard could duck. Crack! He howled in pain and reeled back, clutching at it. “Or else,” Clark snarled, following it up with a blow to the stomach, “I’ll do” – he delivered one to the forehead – “what I” – a punch to the side – “should’ve” – a kick to the leg – “done” – a smack in the kisser – “sooner!”

He coupled the last word with a sharp kick to the groin, and once again, Whitney collapsed like a puppet with no strings. Clark rubbed his hands and flexed his feet, making sure nothing was disjointed – luckily, invulnerability clearly wasn’t one of his arch-rival’s powers. He gestured to his friends, and they broke into a sprint.

It was fortunate that they did, because a tide of angry yells came from the school windows – they’d been spotted by Whitney’s cronies and underlings. They raced towards Chloe’s red VW Bug and Pete’s blue Mustang, the tops of both cars up. “GET TO MY HOUSE!” Lana yelled as she and Clark dived into the Mustang, Pete and Chloe going in the Bug. “DON’T STOP UNTIL YOU REACH IT!”

Eric and Jenna got in with them, Haley and Megan opting for the Bug, and the engines roared to life as the keys turned. The doors slammed shut, and the cars peeled out of the parking lot, the drivers painfully aware of the furious and murderous mob storming towards them. They shot out onto the street and headed for Lana’s house.

—or so it looked. But once they were out of sight of the school, they turned right and headed into Smallville proper. That had been their plan from the start, after all – throw their pursuers off the trail. Just in case they went too close to the Kent Farm, Clark had called his parents and instructed them to hide in the storm cellar immediately, and to not come out until he knocked on the door.

They stopped by a place nobody would expect them to go – Nell’s flower shop. The woman wasn’t in sight – she’d gone to Metropolis over the weekend for “business reasons” or something, though Lana suspected it was actually related to the out-of-control party Clark and Lex had helped her ditch. At any rate, Nell wouldn’t be back until that evening.

Besides, they weren’t really heading for the shop. Clark killed the engine of Pete’s car just as Chloe stopped her own, and Lana led him and their friends up to the doors of the old Talon theater with which the shop shared building space. She unlocked it with the keys Nell had provided her once and ushered them inside.

The Talon was a bit desolate inside, but it was quiet and surprisingly comfortable, thanks to the couches Nell had left there. “We should be safe here for a while,” Lana said, sitting on one with Clark after locking the door again. “I can’t imagine anyone actually thinking to look here.”

“Yeah,” Clark said, rubbing her side. “And Alicia wouldn’t be able to tell them, even if she wasn’t blind. Nice work, Lana.”

“Yeah, nice,” Chloe approved, rubbing her arms. Though the front of the building was pink, the inside held more of a golden light, even with the overcast sky refusing to let much sunlight through. “Kinda isolated in here, isn’t it?”

Lana looked down a bit, sighing. “My parents met here.”

“Oh,” Chloe murmured, subsiding.

“Really?” Clark asked, genuinely interested.

“Yeah,” Lana nodded, smiling a little as she remembered the story. “My dad worked the concession stand during college, and one night, my mom came to see Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” The others leaned a bit towards her, listening as Clark was. “But she got bored, believe it or not.”

“What?” Clark said, smiling in disbelief. “How do you get bored watching Close Encounters?”

“Yeah, how the heck is that possible?” Chloe wondered.

“I don’t know,” Lana laughed. “Maybe she had something against aliens. Anyway, she hung out in the lobby and spent the entire night talking to my dad. They’d only been a couple of years apart in high school, but they never really noticed each other. That night…they just clicked.”

Everyone gazed at her in awe. “Wow,” Clark murmured after a moment, smiling at her.

“That’s so romantic, Lana,” Haley sighed. “Sounds like your parents were quite the couple.”

“Definitely,” Megan nodded. “That must’ve been incredible to look back on for them.”

“Yeah,” Lana sighed, smiling wistfully. “I can’t help but feel that their memory is stored in these walls somehow…like they’re here with me, even though I can’t see them or hear them.”

Everyone nodded and looked around, feeling something of that themselves. “I wish Billy and Abby could’ve been here for that story,” Clark admitted after a moment. “I mean, I’m glad they’re safe, wherever they are…”

“…but you still want them with us,” Lana said, nodding. “So do I.”

“Me too,” Pete mused.

“Me three,” Chloe sighed.

“We all do,” Megan agreed, and Eric, Jenna, and Haley nodded.

A minute of silence passed…then Clark rose to his feet, rubbing his chin. “When I tried calling the police, I didn’t get an answer,” he thought aloud. “That could mean any number of things, and I don’t think we can afford to speculate idly. We need something solid to go on, or we won’t get very far.”

The others conceded that point. “We could try checking the sheriff’s office,” Lana said, rising as well. “It’s pretty close by.”

Clark nodded. “Okay – Lana has her cell phone handy, and Chloe has hers. If anything happens, call us. We’ll keep the door locked so nobody can get in that easily, but stay alert anyway.”

Their friends agreed, and Clark and Lana headed outside to Pete’s car – they knew Chloe wouldn’t surrender the keys to hers. They reached the sheriff’s office without trouble…but there wasn’t a soul around. Not even a patrol car was visible, and an x-ray scan showed nobody inside. “Damn it,” Clark muttered, and turned back towards the Talon.

“Ditto,” Lana sighed. When they got back, she reported, “There was nobody out there. Whatever’s caused this must have something to do with that.”

“Figures,” Chloe groaned, rubbing her eyes. “So now what? Do we try for the Luthor Mansion?”

Clark nodded. “I think we’d better. It has far more protection, and I know Lex will help us. C’mon, guys.”

* * * * *
“This is definitely dangerous business,” Lex remarked as they sat in his study minutes later, holding mugs of hot chocolate.

“We kinda guessed that when they came after us in the first place, Lex,” said Chloe pointedly. Pete frowned at her use of the billionaire’s first name, but kept silent.

Lex chuckled grimly, shaking his bald head, then looked to his best friend. “So, Clark, do you have something in mind already?”

“I do,” Clark said, and cleared his throat. “We’re not the only ones in danger – there are plenty of students who refuse to accept Whitney’s rule. We need to get them out of Smallville, pronto.” He leaned forward. “I think we should use the school bus. That way, we can carry a lot more people at once.”

Lex raised his thin gray eyebrows. “And suppose we get pursued?”

“We won’t be,” Clark said firmly. “Not this time. Whitney’s the only one with powers, aside from Alicia – the rest of them are still normal people, as far as we know. If we slash the tires on their cars or even drain the fuel, they won’t be able to keep up.”

“Besides,” Lana added, “who says we have to meet everyone at the school itself? We can get the word out among those who don’t follow Whitney, tell them to meet us somewhere else – maybe even here. That way, the jocks won’t be able to hold us up.”

Lex leaned back in his chair, considering for long and silent moments that felt like hours. Then he smiled a little and nodded. “Yes…I’d say this plan has merit.”

Clark smiled hopefully. “You’ll help us?”

“Of course,” Lex assured him, putting his mug down. “You’re my friend, Clark – one of the only real friends I’ve ever had, if not the only one. If I can do anything to help you and your peers get to safety, I will.”

With that, he called in several members of his staff and worked out the finer details of the plan. Mr. Raines, as head of his security, was the natural choice to serve as the endangered students’ driver – and until then, he was assigned to watch over Clark and Lana when they went home, just in case any of the murderous jocks were lingering around the Potter Homestead or the Kent Farm. They decided that Metropolis, while certainly large enough to hide the students, was a bit problematic – they might need to make more than one drive, and even on a good traffic day, the Big Apricot was a two-hour round trip. Thus, they settled on a place in Granville to serve as a safehouse until the Madness had been dispelled.

Clark and Lex walked down a hallway to the garage where the billionaire still kept the bashed-up Porsche, discussing the plan and the chaos that had prompted it. “Incredible, to think we met so relatively simply and wound up working on something like this,” Lex mused. “An entire school going insane, taken over by the self-styled local gods, and ordinary students who actually value honest work being forced to flee for their lives.”

“Yeah,” Clark sighed, his hands in his tan jacket pockets. “It’s crazy for sure…but then, this is Smallville.”

“Indeed,” Lex murmured. He paused in mid-step, groaning a little and rubbing at his head.

“Lex, you okay?” Clark asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” the older man said, clearing his throat and shaking his head. “Just a little overwhelmed by it all. I’m having trouble processing it.”

“Join the club,” Clark sighed, smiling in sympathy.

Lex nodded, not looking directly at him. “And there are a few other things I’m having trouble processing,” he said quietly.

Clark frowned, puzzled, even as a queasy feeling gnawed at him. “Such as?”

Without warning, Lex whirled around, his blue-gray eyes furious, and Clark actually stepped back even before the shouting started. “LIKE HOW MY BEST FRIEND COULD LIE TO ME!!!” the bald man bellowed, his face contorting with rage. “LIKE HOW A GUY WHO SAVED MY F*CKING LIFE DOESN’T HAVE THE GUTS TO ADMIT I RAN INTO HIM!!!”

Clark stared at him in shock, uncomprehending what had brought this—

—and then it hit him. “Lex!” he cried, grabbing his friend by the shoulders. “Snap out of it!”

“NO!!!” Lex howled, trying to wrench out of his grip. “DON’T TOUCH ME, YOU DAMN FARM BOY!!! HOW DARE YOU—”

Smack! Clark slapped him squarely across the face – not super-hard, no, but enough to make him recoil. “Calm down!” he begged. “Don’t let it control you!”

Lex shook all over, gasped as if in pain…then looked at Clark, rubbing his cheek. “What…what just happened?” he asked softly, completely confused.

Clark winced. “I…I think it almost got you too,” he admitted. “The Madness.”

Lex’s eyes widened in horror. A moment later, guards came running, Raines among them. “Sir? We heard shouting. What happened?”

Lex swallowed and turned to his men. “Raines, the Madness almost took me. And if it did that, any one of us could be affected any second. Keep on full alert, and don’t let Clark or Lana out of your sight until they’re safely home. Got that?”

“Yes sir,” the guard said, and nodded to Clark, who nodded back. At this rate, it was going to be a long night.

[superman_lives_on]

The Chronicles of Smallville: Morpheus

* * * * *
Indeed, the sky was already fading from ironclad gray towards black as Raines drove Clark and Lana towards the Potter Homestead. They reached it easily, seeing no sign of any angry mob, and Lana smiled slightly as the guard opened the door for her. “With any luck, Nell will actually be sane for once,” she remarked, kissing Clark good-night.

Raines escorted her up to the door and waited just out of sight as she walked inside. She looked around – though Nell’s car had been outside, the woman wasn’t immediately in sight or hearing. “Hello?” she called.

A sudden movement made her whirl – and she screamed involuntarily. Nell stood nearby, holding a kitchen knife. “So, you escaped Whitney’s replacement,” the woman snarled, her blue eyes cold and insane. “But you won’t escape me.”

Lana looked around, wanting desperately to flee, but Nell moved to block the door—

Bang! The bullet from Raines’ gun struck the knife, knocking it from Nell’s grip, and she screamed in shock and frustration. Lana knocked her aside and raced back out, right into Clark’s arms. “It’s not safe here,” the guard said, looking grimly at the unconscious Nell. “Let’s get to the farm.”

Neither of them argued that point, and they reached the Kent Farm a minute later. Clark hurried over to the storm cellar and knocked on the door. “Mom? Dad?” he called. “It’s me!”

He backed up and waited – and the door swung open, letting his mother practically pounce on him. “Oh, thank God!” she gasped. “We were so worried!”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered, holding her close. “But I didn’t want you in any danger.”

Jonathan came up and joined the hug – then they both gave Lana one, which made her squeak a bit. Raines nodded to them, seeing that his work was done, and left as they headed inside. Luckily, dinner was a simple enough affair that it hadn’t been ruined by the Kents’ sudden need to hide – and Clark and Lana’s appetites, though shaken by the events of the day, weren’t lost. They explained everything that had happened, though they were careful to not mention anything about Clark’s powers.

When they were done, Jonathan shook his head, looking stunned. “This is a mess, alright,” he summarized. “And you figure the other kids’ only chance is to get out of town?”

“That’s the plan,” Clark confirmed. “But I’ll be staying, Dad. Assuming we can figure out what’s causing this, I have the best chance of stopping it.”

Lana nodded and stroked his arm. “I have faith in you, Clark,” she said simply. “You’ll save us – you won’t let yourself do anything less.”

“Definitely not,” he agreed softly, smiling at her support.

His parents shared a look that communicated volumes, then turned back to them. “And what do you think we should do?” Martha asked gently.

Clark sighed and looked at them. “I don’t want to give you guys orders – I don’t think I could. But I do think you should follow the bus. I’d feel a lot better if you were out of danger.”

“We both would,” Lana said, her hand on his. “I don’t want you two to share Nell’s fate.”

“Oh, no?” Jonathan said with raised eyebrows – to their sudden screaming discomfort, his face was darkening. “I doubt you much care, since you want our son to suffer a horrible fate.”

Clark and Lana jumped to their feet, realizing in an instant that the Madness had reached the farm after all. “That’s not true!” Clark insisted, looking around desperately—

“It is true,” said Martha coldly, her gentleness gone. “Don’t try to deny it – we know that she knows your secret.”

“Part of it,” Lana said, trying badly not to panic. “But I swear, I won’t ever betray him!”

“No, you won’t,” Jonathan agreed. “You won’t have the chance.” And they came towards her—

—but Clark was already hurrying away with her, getting her behind the couch. “Stay down!” he whispered, and she did so – and then he smacked the lights, plunging the room into darkness.

His Maddened parents never stood a chance – in the dark, he easily grabbed hold of them and rushed them upstairs into their bedroom, deposited them on the bed gently, then shut the door and jammed it with a chair. He rushed downstairs and flicked the lights back on, then gathered a shaking Lana into his arms yet again, rubbing her back.

“Why is this happening?” she moaned after a moment, looking up at him with moist eyes. “Why is everything falling apart?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, still stroking her. “It’s like a living nightmare.”

Their eyes widened as the penny dropped. “Nightmare!” they gasped in unison. “Of course!” she went on. “My nightmare was that Nell went psycho with a knife, and yours was that your parents wanted me dead!”

“And both of them came true just now!” he exclaimed, his mind racing. “And think about it – what’s the worst nightmare for any hardworking high school student?”

“That they fail everything, or that the idiots and jackasses around get all the power,” she provided. “But that would be the jackasses’ greatest dream, wouldn’t it?”

“Exactly!” he said. “God, that’s it! That’s the connection! People’s dreams are being brought to life, both good and bad!”

“Which means that this can’t be a meteor thing,” she realized. “There’s no way those rocks are that powerful.”

“Definitely not,” he agreed, looking disturbed. “In fact…Lana, when I used my x-ray vision to get my parents away from you just now, they looked so dark inside – like they were filled with oil or something.” He grimaced. “It looked like the inside of the Scarecrow when I stopped it from killing Deputy Miller.”

“Oh, my God,” she breathed, covering her mouth a bit. “You mean that another one of those Things is behind this?”

“It must be,” he said grimly. “Which means we need to be on full alert tomorrow. Whatever exactly is causing this, it’s not something to take lightly.”

* * * * *
Clark had no idea just how right he was. That very night, as the clock ticked towards the witching hour, Dawn stood outside the school, wearing a flowing nightgown and a pitch-black smile. Hanging around her neck was the silvery pendant she’d bought for Halloween – the pentagram within a circle, a symbol like an upside-down Y with a third leg in its pentagonal center.

It had served her just as it had promised, bringing all of those dreams to life…and now, it was time for the darkest dream of all to rise from the mists of thought. Her dark eyes gleamed with an eerie purple not-light, the same energy that had pulsed from the true form of the Scarecrow Killer – and that not-light swirled around on the surface of the pendant. She held the amulet up without removing it from her neck, her blonde hair falling well past her shoulders as she began chanting softly.

Her voice did not come out in its naturally shrill, paint-peeling tone…not tonight. Under the influence of the ancient and eldritch power, it came out thick and sensual…and her face no longer possessed that horrid tan, instead looking attractively pale. “Morpheus,” she chanted, following the instructions she had been given. “Morpheus, Lord of All Dreams…you have served our desires and fears well. Now I ask you to fulfill the greatest desire of all.”

Her lips formed a smile that was somehow even darker than pitch-black. “I ask you to drive Clark Kent away from Lana Lang and into my embrace.”

Under the starless and moonless sky, the pendant shone with that purple not-light, pulsing in her hand…and its power reached out into the night, stretching towards the Kent Farm with invisible and inhuman fingers. She smiled in triumph, certain that soon, she would have what her black heart yearned for most – a golden god to worship her.

In his bed, clad in only a white T-shirt and dark boxers, Clark jolted and grimaced. He was deep enough in sleep to have dreams, and while they hadn’t been terribly pleasant to start with, now they were turning utterly foul. Grasping, clawing fingers raked at him, trying to tear him away from Lana, and over and over a terrible voice chanted: “Surrender to the inevitable…it is your destiny… Surrender to the inevitable…it is your destiny…”

But even in sleep, he wasn’t in a mood to surrender to anything – especially not since Lana was sleeping next to him, wearing her white undershirt and her underwear. Indeed, his worst nightmare of all was losing Lana, whether to her suddenly blaming him for her parents’ deaths or simply to her dying – and he refused to surrender to that. Madness or no Madness, he clung to her…and after what seemed like forever, the grasping fingers fell away, frustrated.

And yet, they’d not left completely empty-handed. They reached out again, dipping into Lana’s subconscious, unearthing her own worst nightmares and carrying them away just as they had Clark’s…and then they reached for the sleeping Jonathan and Martha, drawing out their own…then they floated away, back to where Dawn stood chanting. Streams of eldritch not-light, from sickly purple to thickest black, flowed from the pendant, gathering in a spot several feet away, coalescing into a pulsing nimbus of hideous power…

Then, abruptly, the nimbus expanded, all but exploding, and unleashed a surge of fiery golden light – or so it looked to Dawn’s wicked eyes. She stared in amazement…then her pitch-black smile returned. A figure towered before her, six foot three and loaded with muscle, practically glowing gold from within, not a stitch of clothing on…and though the face looked like Clark Kent’s, though the hair was just as thick and messy, it was not Clark Kent’s. He’d never had hair quite so dark, never had eyes so pale and smooth…and only once had his massive chest ever borne a large blood-red S.

But Dawn did not care. Her god had come at last, and she welcomed him with eager fingers…and as they stepped together, her nightgown flowed to the ground.

* * * * *
Tuesday the fourth came no less overcast – if anything, it looked even worse. Clark checked on his parents, but saw that they were still fast asleep – nonetheless, he removed the chair, not wanting to keep them from breakfast. He and Lana ate together, then showered and dressed separately. Luckily, she’d managed to grab a change of clothes before they’d completely fled her house last night – she donned the fresh undies, green shirt, denim jacket and jeans, while he went for a gray-white plaid button-down and a dark blue jacket with his own fresh jeans. It was a testament to how occupied his thoughts were that he didn’t even notice he’d used a solid blue T-shirt instead of the typical white one as an undershirt.

He drove her to the school in his blue truck, despite his own misgivings. She’d left her necklace in the gym, and she did not want anyone using it against him as Alicia had. They stopped a safe distance from the building, having agreed that once she’d recovered the necklace, she would drop it off at her house and then drive the truck to the Luthor Mansion to meet up with their friends – he’d make his own way to the old castle on foot.

“Well,” she said, gathering her nerve, “here goes.”

“Good luck,” he told her, giving her a deep kiss. They held it for a long but too-short moment, then parted so that she could climb out. He killed the engine and handed her the keys, then hopped out himself; they made sure to close the doors, then headed on their separate ways for now. Neither of them noticed the dark figure lurking just out of sight – but he had seen and heard everything.

Once Clark was sure that nobody could see him from the school, he vanished in a blur, arriving at the mansion quickly. Sure enough, all the other students who’d refused to accept the jocks’ rule were gathering outside, and the familiar yellow school bus stood in the driveway. “So far, so good,” Clark remarked to Lex.

“That’s the general theme around here,” Lex agreed. “Raines is already in the bus. Where’s Lana?”

“She had to pick up something first,” Clark explained. “She’ll drive out here in my truck and meet us in just a couple of minutes.”

Lex nodded and gestured to the crowd. “I think your friends are asking for you.”

Indeed they were – Pete, Chloe, Eric, Jenna, Megan, and Haley were all relieved to see him still in one piece. When he explained that Lana would be joining them a bit later, they were less relieved. “I really don’t want her to be out there alone,” Megan fretted.

“Neither do I,” Clark agreed, “but she can take care of herself. Besides, given how small she is, she can easily sneak around.” He chuckled a little, knowing full well how true that was.

“Oh, sure, she can do that,” Chloe drawled, rolling her eyes. “Sneak around people’s feelings like they don’t matter, sneak around the fact that she has no brains—”

“Chloe!” Pete exclaimed, appalled – but Clark couldn’t speak. A scream of warning from his gut had briefly robbed him of his voice. Oh, no! Not Chloe too!

The blonde rounded on him, her eyes blazing with inhuman fury. “You could’ve had ANYONE!” she shrieked. “Anyone at ALL! Hell, you could’ve had ME! But you chose Miss Perfect Pom-Pom Girl – and for WHAT?!”

“Chloe!” he cried, grasping her shoulders. “Snap out of it! The Madness is taking you over!”

“DAMN RIGHT I’M MAD!!!” she screamed, thrashing in his grip, blind and deaf to his appeals. “I’M P*SSED, YOU WORTHLESS EXCUSE FOR A FRIEND!!! YOU SHOULD’VE BEEN MINE!!! ALL MINE!!!”

Pete tried to help restrain her, to pull her away from Clark, but she kept thrashing. Megan and Haley pitched in, managing to drag her off, while Lex and his guards came running. With all of their efforts, they managed to stifle Chloe’s screams, though she kept struggling. Clark ran his hands through his hair, feeling heavy-hearted and frustrated. Lana couldn’t get back here soon enough.

* * * * *
Jonathan and Martha got downstairs soon enough to see that the kids had already gone. They felt utterly horrible, as if they’d suddenly become hungover…and they suspected why. Whatever this Madness truly was, it had taken them last night – and they’d almost done something unforgivable and irreversible to Lana.

“God,” he moaned, appalled at the memory. “How could we have said those things, sweetheart? How could we have been so cruel?”

“It wasn’t really us, baby,” she assured him, though she clearly felt guilty too. “The Madness made us say things that weren’t true – that we knew weren’t true.” She shuddered. “It was like…like we weren’t even in control of our own bodies.”

“And it used us to hurt them,” he said, rubbing at his eyes…it was hard not to cry, so very hard. “Why? What’s the point of it all?”

“You should’ve asked that before you chose to hurt me,” said a cold, deep voice from behind. They whirled around – and stared in mute shock and disbelief. The figure before them resembled Clark, at least in face and height and build – but Clark had never worn a long coat of black leather that they recalled, nor pants of black leather, nor heavy black boots…and he certainly hadn’t worn a pure black shirt with a large blood-red S on the front, tucked into said pants and secured with a thick black belt. Nor had his skin looked so pale that it was almost pallid, his hair so dark that it was black…and he wasn’t in the habit of leaving any five o’clock shadow visible.

And his green eyes had never been so pale and cold, so utterly void of emotion and empathy, so hard and piercing and unmoving. “Jonathan and Martha Kent,” he said, his voice a dull monotone. “You kept me locked up for so many years, drilling lies and stupidity into my head. But now, I’ve come to exact retribution.”

They stared in shock, then backed away as the apparition began slowly and steadily approaching them. “Clark,” Jonathan gasped, “what…”

“Clark Kent is dead,” the black-clad figure cut him off. “And you’ll soon join him in nonexistence. I won’t be your foolish little pawn anymore.”

They turned to run, but in a whoosh of air and a blur of black, the figure blocked their escape. “You claimed to want a son who was free to live his own life,” he said, his voice turning darker but never rising or lowering. They tried again, but he blocked them once more. “But you proved that was a lie. You restrained me with paranoia and recrimination. No more.” His pale eyes began to blaze orange—

Riiing! He stopped and turned towards the phone, his expression unchanging aside from a furrow of his brow. He stepped sharply over and picked it up, holding it to his ear while giving the Kents a silent, fiery-eyed warning to be quiet. “Hello?” Lana’s voice said uncertainly. “Mr. Kent? Mrs. Kent?”

“Lana,” the figure who was not Clark answered, still glaring at the Kents. “Did you find the necklace?”

“Clark?” she said, confused. “Yeah, I found it. What are you doing back at the farm?”

“There’s been a slight change of plans,” he replied tonelessly. “I need you to meet me out at the barn.”

On the other end of the line, she blinked – then she nodded. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be right over.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, and hung up just as Jonathan was about to scream a warning and damn the consequences to his own hide. With a rush of fury and power, the dark figure knocked both Kents to the floor, towering over them with blazing eyes. “Be quiet,” he snarled, baring his white teeth. “For that, you two shall live to witness the death of Lana Lang.” He leaned down close, his voice lowering: “And then I’ll make sure to kill you slowly.”

* * * * *
Lana arrived at the farm, unaware of what – or rather, who – truly awaited her. She hurried into the barn and towards the steps into the loft, holding the lead box Clark had given her. She’d found it at her house after recovering the necklace from the school – and without really thinking about it, rather than just drop the necklace inside and go, she’d taken it with her.

It would prove to be a fateful decision. But she had no way of knowing that as she walked up into the loft – and stopped in her tracks, taken aback. “Clark?” she said questioningly.

The tall figure in the long black coat stood with his back towards her, staring out into the ironclad sky. After a moment, he turned around to face her – and she stumbled back in shock. Clark hadn’t really had any stubble that she could see this morning – and he definitely hadn’t worn that! All black clothes? A Scarecrow S?! What the hell—

“Lana Lang,” the figure said, his voice deep and cold – and something in it, in his eyes, made her step back in sudden terror. “Prepare to meet your fate.”

No – it wasn’t something in his eyes or voice. It was the lack of something – the lack of anything. There was absolutely nothing – no warmth, no emotion, no heart…no soul. “What?” she gasped, stepping back further.

“You’ve committed far too many crimes in your short life,” the figure that looked like Clark – but didn’t – said, marching slowly after her. “You’ve proved that you’re simply too stupid, needy, and weak to deserve that life. Now you will pay for your mistakes.”

“No,” she whimpered, shaking her head, feeling tears sting her eyes. “No, Clark, please—”

“There is no Clark Kent,” he interrupted, stalking closer. “There never has been. And soon, there will be no Lana Lang.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, disbelief and grief and terror making her head throb – the lead box felt far too heavy in her hands—

The box! With the swiftness of that sudden thought, she pulled the lid back and whipped out her necklace. The meteor rock gave only a slight, eerie gleam…it did not erupt into full glow. Nor did the dark figure pause in his step.

But in that moment, part of her terror was destroyed. This thing, this creature, was not Clark at all – just some soulless impostor. She dropped the useless necklace back into the box, then the box itself, and dug for her phone—

—but there was a blur of black, and Not-Clark’s hands struck her squarely in the chest, knocking her back through the railing before she could even scream.

All the way across town, watching as a sedated Chloe was carried onto the bus, Clark suddenly clutched his gut, feeling a wrenching and screaming sensation – and then his head whipped up, for he recognized the particular scream. “Lana!” he gasped – and before anyone could notice, he took off like a shot from a cannon, hurtling away from the mansion and towards the farm.

Lana plummeted back from Not-Clark, unable to do anything but flail in the air as the black-clad figure got higher and further away. To his cold and pale eyes, she seemed to be falling in slow motion—

—and so she looked to Clark’s eyes as he rushed into the barn from the open main doors, spotting her instantly – and seeing the sharp blades of the mower she was falling towards, just as his father had fallen two months ago. With a surge of desperation and a silent scream of defiance, he charged forward – she drew ever closer – he reached the blades, grabbed hold, and shoved them away, then moved into their place and turned—

—and she landed in his arms, the force of her fall shuddering through his body and into the ground. She looked up at him, whispering weakly, “Clark…” Then she went limp, having fainted from her ordeal.

He gazed at her in deepest concern, then whipped his head up – and despite the sheer weirdness of seeing his own distorted reflection, he didn’t just stop and stare. Not-Clark was glaring down at him with fiery orange eyes, and Clark turned to run for the side door, holding Lana close. Bolts of fire shot after him, striking the ground and throwing up clouds of dust that slowed in their billowing thanks to his super-speed – but not a single one touched him. He all but smashed through the door and sped along, carrying her into the house.

His parents rose to their feet, having been left lying there, and stared at him. “Clark!” Martha gasped, relieved and concerned at the same time.

He laid Lana down on the couch, stroking her gently, then looked up at them. “Take care of her,” he said – and without waiting for a response, he blurred back outside. As he reached the bottom of the steps, he saw Not-Clark coming towards him from the barn, the black coat billowing, the eyes still blazing – and he charged to meet the murderous bastard head-on, completely unafraid.

More bolts of fire shot at him, miniature comets, and he held up his jacket-clad arms, blocking them – then he all but lunged forward, colliding with Not-Clark in a thunderous BOOM that shook the gravelly ground. They grappled for the advantage, hands clawing at each other’s clothes – and then Not-Clark seized the farm boy and whirled around, sending him through the barn wall with a CRASH! He stared after his opponent, then turned towards the house—

—and abruptly whirled back around, hearing the crunch of feet on gravel. Clark charged towards him again, vaulting the bottom edge of the jagged hole, and clenched his fists, ready to strike. Not-Clark stared at him, soulless eyes kindling with orange flame once more—

—but this time, it came out in a continuous rush, billowing towards Clark – only to collide with a continuous stream of his own fire. BAM! The detonation threw Clark off his feet, back into the barn, and seemed to merely make Not-Clark stumble a little. Sniffing, he turned back around and began to walk arrogantly towards the house, not even in super-speed—

—and a blur of dark blue and gray-white plaid rushed out in front of him, materializing into Clark. His black-clad double stopped, clenched his fists, and raised them to attack—

—but he didn’t expect Clark to drop his head and then charge, butting him right in the abdomen. Not-Clark hurtled away, right through the hole in the barn, and landed with a thump beside the large-bladed mower. Clark shook his head, then rose and resumed charging—

—but Not-Clark grabbed the large round blades, ripped them off the mower, and began slinging them at the oncoming farm boy. Clark’s heat vision flared to life again, spitting at the missiles – it struck down the first two easily, but he almost missed the third and fourth. He blinked it off and smacked the fifth, sixth, and seventh away with his arms and hands – but the eighth hit him in the chin and knocked him flat, carrying the hideous force its thrower had given it.

Before he could get back up, Not-Clark grabbed him by the flaps of his jacket, hauled him into the air, and flung him into the loft – he smashed through another part of the railing that Lana had been pushed through, landing in a heap. Not-Clark rushed up after him, large and pale hands flashing down—

—and a brown-booted foot caught him in the gut, knocking him back – he lost his balance and fell over the side, hitting the ground solidly. Clark scrambled to his feet and dropped over the side, aiming to land on the bastard’s chest—

Whump! Not-Clark’s own black-booted feet swung up and caught him in the back, knocking him clear across the barn—

CRASH! He smashed into the old tractor, a shower of sparks shooting out from the impact as it practically broke in two, and lay seemingly still.

Not-Clark rose to his feet, brushed at his black coat vainly, checked the sight, then nodded in satisfaction and turned to go. Now it was time to exact vengeance on all three of those foolish—

He whirled at a sudden sound – just in time to see the tractor swing down onto him. CRAAAASH!!! It burst apart into countless pieces as Clark drove it onto and over his doppelgänger with smacks of his hands, covering the bastard in warped and twisted metal. Then he backed up a bit and bathed it in red-gold heat, melting the mess onto Not-Clark and hopefully restricting his movements somewhat.

No such luck. The orange-covered figure, like a molten statue come to life, surged forward and fetched him a heavy blow to the cheek. Clark barely managed to gasp in agony as he went hurtling and tumbling out of the barn, arcing over the front yard—

CRASH! He landed right on one of the trees growing there and split it apart, hitting the ground in a pile of large branches. As he scrambled to his feet, feeling his burning cheek, he heard the front door swing open and whirled toward it. “Clark!” his dad called, his mom close behind.

“STAY BACK!” he yelled, holding up his bloodied hand warningly. “Meteor rock doesn’t hurt him!”

SMASH! Not-Clark, who’d ripped the slag off himself, burst through an undamaged part of the barn wall, the whole structure groaning in protest, and charged towards his enemy. Clark hurtled to meet him with bared teeth and powerful fists, yelling wordlessly in fury and defiance of this murderous *sshole. Like hell was he going to give up!

They collided once more, the impact shaking the ground – and with a howl of anger, Clark was thrown onto the parked truck, smashing through the roof and windshield. Not-Clark sent bolts of heat slamming into the fuel tank – BOOM!

“CLARK!!!” Martha screamed, horrified – but Jonathan held her back, knowing despite his own strong desire to rush out there that it wouldn’t help. Not-Clark stared at the conflagration for a long moment, then turned towards them with that eerily detached and cold expression and began to stalk forward—

—and a burning figure lunged out of the blaze with a scream of fury, and before Not-Clark could do more than whirl around to see, Clark had landed right on him, knocking him over. They tussled violently – but this time, the impostor did not have the upper hand. BAM, BAM, BAM! Clark punched him in the face repeatedly, drawing sickening black ichor instead of red blood – then, seeing that Not-Clark was too stunned to fight back properly, he hauled the bastard to his feet, threw him into the air, and grabbed him by the head—

—and flung him head over heels high into the air! Not-Clark went tumbling like a rag doll, hurtling into the back forty acres – and a large cloud of dirt erupted as he hit the ground, only to bounce away and raise another – finally, he stopped, lying limply in the center of Clark’s makeshift baseball diamond.

Shedding his ruined, flaming jacket, Clark sped after the hurtling figure – and as his doppelgänger landed, he went rushing onto the diamond, racing around Not-Clark in a circle. More dirt flew up, forming a small twister of sorts and keeping the stunned monster from seeing clearly – and then bolts of heat pelted him, sending more pain through his unnatural body. He couldn’t even cry out – not that he had before – as Clark zipped around him over and over, hammering away with blast after fiery blast.

At length, Clark stopped, looking at his grim handiwork. What was left of Not-Clark was hardly recognizable as the mockery of humanity it had been. A ruined and misshapen head, its skin black and mottled, rose – glaring eyes, their irises red and their sclerae flooded red with apparent blood, locked on Clark’s deep greens – a too-large mouth opened, baring sharp yellow teeth and fangs, disgorging a ragged and hideous snarl—

—but Clark wasn’t intimidated, not now. He backed away, then charged forward and lunged high into the air, aiming his feet precisely – and he came down right onto the Thing’s head with a SPLAK, smashing it and splattering black ichor. As he stood there, panting heavily, the body quivered – then disintegrated into pulsing black ooze or smoke or something, laced with eerie purple not-light. It flowed away from him as if afraid, and soon enough, it was gone.

He stood there for another moment, recovering his calm…then he turned and sped back into the house. His parents grabbed him in a fierce hug, and this time, he didn’t try to stop them. He enjoyed their closeness for a long moment, then walked over to the couch. Lana lay there still, and he bent over her, his x-ray vision going to work even as he reached to stroke her head. She wasn’t injured at all, thank God—

Her eyes flew open, and she grabbed his hand. “Clark!” she gasped, not quite focusing on him – her eyes were almost alight. “Dawn – it’s Dawn! She – she—”

“What?” he said urgently, holding her hand. “Lana, she what?”

“The bus!” she got out. “She’s sabotaged the bus!”

Suddenly, images flashed in his mind, and he understood clearly – the bus had driven off without him, as had been planned, but no sooner had it gotten out of the mansion’s driveway than Mr. Raines had realized the brake wasn’t working – then flame had burst out of the exhaust pipe, and it had hurtled forward – he hadn’t been able to steer, only to blast the horn in warning as it hurtled through town – the students had screamed and held on for dear life—

—and now, through the pendant, Dawn was sending it onto Route 40 – towards Loeb Bridge. She was going to send it over into Elbow River!

Without a word, he broke the contact with Lana, and she passed out again. Never mind how she’d seen this or showed him – he had to stop that bus! He grabbed a fresh jacket his mother had hung out for him, hardly noticing or caring that it was a new pure red windbreaker, and ran out of the house. He charged towards the road at super-speed, tossing the jacket into the air before him and ripping at his scorched gray-white plaid, exposing his blue undershirt.

On Route 40, the bus screamed out of control – only through Dawn’s remote control via the pendant was it staying on a straight course now, though she couldn’t resist swerving it back and forth to torment the students further. Jenna was near the front, trying to get Raines – who’d been knocked out on the last sharp turn – to wake up. In the seats, Chloe was still unconscious, Pete was watching over her, and Megan and Haley clung to Eric. The other students on there, from Paul Chan to Justin Gaines, were no less terrified.

Desperate for some kind of miracle, Jenna looked out the driver’s window – and blinked in shock. Had that been a blur of red and blue shooting past the bus?

Suddenly, there was a heavy thump from the front, and she scrambled forward to see – and her heart leaped. It was Clark! He clung to the front of the bus, his brown boots not touching the road, and looked around. She caught his eyes and mouthed, “No fuel! No brakes!” Indeed, the fuel had burned away from the unnatural fire – now the only flame on the bus was the purplish cloud of eldritch power clinging to the rear lights, propelling the huge yellow and black vehicle forward.

Clark nodded once, then looked down at the road. He dropped down, digging his feet into it – and asphalt flew up, being plowed away in two long trenches as the bus roared on. He clung on harder and dug deeper – and heard a scream of protesting metal. He looked – the front of the bus was simply denting inwards from his super-dense body, crushing the engine in the process. Alas, that didn’t stop the bus – it wasn’t using its engine anymore.

He whipped his feet up, grimacing as he saw the damage to his boots and jeans, then glanced behind himself. The bridge wasn’t far now – he had to think of something fast! He moved to one side and saw the front tire spinning along – and with a sharp bolt of heat, he blew it out. The bus leaned into the corner, eliciting screams from the students – but then it leaned forward altogether, the other front tire gone.

But it still didn’t slow down – at least not enough. He looked further past and spotted the back tire. A precise blast took it out too – then another blew out its twin. Sparks flew from the undercarriage as the bus scraped along, still moving – but Jenna glanced at the speedometer and saw it creeping back from sixty.

Clark turned around, putting his back to the ruined grille, and saw that the bridge was visible in the distance – and coming up fast. The bus wasn’t getting enough friction to stop – what could he do to—

—and then it hit him. He aimed at the rushing road several feet before him, summoned up all the fury and desperation and determination he had, and opened fire. Streams of heat poured into the asphalt, and flame seemed to billow up – but more and more of it became hot and soft, and the bus began to plow into it—

Jenna looked at the speed – fifty – thirty-five – forty – they were almost at the bridge – thirty – twenty-five—

Clark dug his feet down into the melted asphalt of the bridge, turned around, and strained against the bus – the rear lights blew out as the eldritch power strained to push it on – force rippled through the metal structure, cracking windows and eliciting groans…

…and the speedometer dropped to zero, the dark power vanishing. For a long moment, the half-destroyed bus just sat there in the asphalt, creaking…then it rose, and the bewildered students held onto the seats and each other as it was somehow moved backward, off the bridge.

Clark set it down on the ground beside the road, careful to leave it steady, and backed away. His x-ray vision, which had helped with the task, showed no injuries among the students or the driver – but he had to be sure. He hurried to the main door and slid it open with one hand, then met Jenna in a gentle hug. “Is everyone alright?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Thanks to you.”

He sighed, deeply relieved, and looked past her. Nobody else had noticed him yet, but that wouldn’t last unless he got a move on. “It’s Dawn, Jenna,” he said. “I don’t know how, but she’s bringing dreams to life. I have to stop her.”

She nodded and released him. “Go. We’ll be okay.”

He nodded back, smiling a little, and shot off in a blur. She shook her head, awed, then turned to help her friends and classmates off the bus.

* * * * *
Clark’s instinct told him exactly where to go. Of course, he knew that Dawn would be at the school – but as it turned out, she was in a very specific part of it, and technically outside the building itself. He stopped in the middle of Walt Arnold Stadium and looked up in the bleachers.

“Well, well, well.” Her voice didn’t sound shrill anymore, but thick and sensual – and she looked different too. Her fake tan was gone, leaving a pleasing and healthy texture and color, and her clothes were no longer pink – she wore a tight black suit instead. He realized after a moment that it was her costume from Halloween, only a bit cut down to basics. She smirked down at him, her dark eyes gleaming with a faint red light. “Look who decided to join me.”

He scowled up at her in his red jacket and blue shirt and jeans, the legs slightly banged up from digging into the road. “Why are you doing this, Dawn?” he demanded, his voice carrying easily without needing to rise. “What’s the point of bringing dreams to life if you become a monster, let alone turn other people into monsters?”

She snorted artfully and tugged at the chain around her neck, calling his attention to the unholy pendant. “What other way is there to live?” she purred. “I’ve had such fun ever since yesterday, Clark – and even if you did spoil the mood a little, I’m willing to forgive you.” She leaned down a bit, her voice turning thicker: “Imagine what pleasures you could know at my side – what power you could grasp.”

He shook his head without hesitating. “No thank you,” he said. “I already have someone – and I have more power than I deserve. And there’s something you never understood, Dawn.”

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “Oh?”

He nodded and recited simply, “‘With great power…comes great responsibility.’”

For a moment, she just stared at him…then her face darkened. “So be it,” she growled. “You can die first.”

With that, she clutched the pendant to her bosom and lunged into the air, arcing high over him – she landed with inhuman grace in the other side of bleachers, then whirled, holding out her hands. The air rippled, turning frosty as she drained its heat. “You see?” she called to him. “I hold the powers of all those freaks you fought off – and I won’t waste them. YAAAAH!”

She howled in exertion, throwing her hands forward – and fire roared towards Clark, covering the field. She dropped them, smirking at the blaze, and turned to her side—

“Actually, Dawn,” he said, standing right next to her, “you just did.”

She blinked in shock, then grabbed hold of him with steely fingers, trying to drain his heat – but he grabbed back, seizing the pendant – and with a flick of his wrist, he whipped it and its chain off her head. She gasped, feeling her strength waver – and he easily pulled free of her, then sped down the bleachers—

“RAAAAH!” she screamed, grabbing at the seats to keep from losing her balance – and in answer to her call, Whitney emerged from the doorway back into the school, still in that stupid outfit—

—and got nothing but his legs kicked out from under him, courtesy of Clark Kent. The farm boy sped off, heading away from the school and out into the fields – and stopped in his tracks, gasping. The pendant was searing into his hands – not with heat, but with hideous, horrible cold!

He flung it upwards, bringing his free hands together – and as it spun, he let fly with his heat vision. But the pendant didn’t even get scorched – the heat flowed around a bubble surrounding it! It began to fall, and he spotted a figure lunging into the air from a hundred yards away – Whitney.

Clark grabbed at the pendant, determined that it would no longer harm his friends and family, and began spinning around – and as Whitney reached the zenith of his lunge, Clark flung the unholy relic into the sky, sending it spinning through the clouds, through the atmosphere—

—and right into the path of the sun. The golden light flooded it, and it screamed soundlessly as it hurtled away at an angle into space—

—and Whitney howled in agony, suddenly plummeting out of control. Clark caught him and laid him down, and as he did, a ripple of white light covered the jock king…and when it passed, his costume was gone, replaced by his usual letterman’s jacket. The thick gray clouds billowed away, vanishing into the ether…and the sun shone down through a clear blue sky.

Inhaling deeply, Clark closed his eyes, feeling incredibly soothed…then he opened them again and blurred away, leaving the unconscious Whitney behind. He reached the farm and opened the door—

—and Lana rose from the couch, her eyes finding his. Without a word, she leaped out and rushed to meet him, springing into his arms and covering his face with kisses. He eagerly returned them, not caring that his parents saw – truth be told, on some level, he’d wanted them to know all along.

At last, the nightmare was over.

* * * * *
The sun shone brightly all day long, and it painted the near-cloudless sky in beautiful shades of red and blue and gold as it neared the western horizon. Lana stood on the back porch of the Kents’ yellow house, watching the wondrous sight in silent awe. She had feared that she might never see it again.

The door opened, and she turned to see Clark emerge – and his parents were right behind him. He smiled warmly and gathered her into his arms, kissing her forehead. “They kept begging me to forgive them,” he murmured almost inaudibly.

“Oh,” she said, not really surprised but touched. She looked up at his parents. “Mr. Kent, Mrs. Kent, before you say anything else – I just want you to know that I don’t blame you for what the Madness made you say. The fault for all that lies with Dawn Stiles.”

“We know, Lana, and thank you,” Jonathan said, his eyes shining…he was smiling too. “But we do owe you an apology.”

Martha nodded. “We know that Clark’s told you some of his secrets – and we have to admit, had we realized this before the events of today, I don’t think we’d have taken it the right way.” She looked at Lana tenderly, stroking her arm. “But lately, we’ve realized that keeping Clark so isolated may have been a mistake. We never wanted to keep him from living his own life – but that’s exactly what we almost did.”

Lana blinked moist eyes in surprise. “But…you had reasons for it. I can understand protecting him for most of his life – I mean, I’m guessing there’s more to him than I already know.”

Jonathan nodded, looking troubled. “Yes…but the truth is, it’s not really our choice whom he shares his life with. That’s all his choice. And I think we’ve let our old fears blind us to how responsible he is – and how trustworthy you are.”

Her eyes became even moister. “You mean…”

He smiled again. “That’s right. When Clark decides to tell you the whole truth, we won’t stop him.”

Clark grinned at her, then sobered. “I will tell you one day, Lana. But for now, I think we all still need time to adjust to you knowing any part of my secret.” He stared deep into her eyes, his voice very gentle: “But I promise you, one day, I will share everything.”

She gazed back and nodded, her own voice a whisper: “And I promise to wait for you, Clark. I have time to spare.”

He smiled and bent down, kissing her deeply. Then they turned to watch the sunset with his parents. Though the danger was past, they were sure it wouldn’t be the end of their trials. The police had taken Alicia Baker to the local asylum, Belle Reve, for treatment – alas, Dawn was being let off scot-free, no doubt thanks to the influence of her well-off parents. And they had no idea how much Whitney remembered of the whole ordeal – it was entirely too possible that he would cause further trouble.

But for now, they just enjoyed their time together. What would come would come…and they would never have to face it alone again.

[To my loyal readers, I have news that hopefully you’ll find good. One of the later episodes in Season One will be completely replaced – just one. In its place, however, I won’t have only one original installment, nor even two. That’s right – I’ll have three back-to-back original installments for your reading pleasure! For now, though, stay tuned for “Jitters”.]

[Bytefyre531]

Wow! What an incredible original installment! I think you may have topped the ingenuity you displayed in "Hallowed" with this one, Matt! So now we know just what the true power of Dawn's pendant was, and thank goodness that now that this ordeal is all over, she won't be commanding that kind of power ever again. I was glad to see that once again, Clark, Lana, and friends were able to foil the bad guys and save the town. I can't wait for when Lana will finally learn the full truth about Clark, but I know that it'll be worth it. I'll look forward to your rewrite of "Jitters"!

[Kirk]

Yet another superb chapter in this wonderful story. I am curious about one future development in this unfolding saga. While Clark's efforts to save Lex are noble, can it really be done? After all, he is known as the great enemy of Superman. There are certainly more powerful enemies then him, but Lex Luthor brings a certain amount of ruthless foresight to bear that was briefly shown in this chapter. I am also eager to see if Lana is able to escape from her aunt. Life with the Kent's would be much better for her. Anyway, I can not wait for the next chapter.

[Young Superman]

WOW!!! That was awesome ppms.

[carolus]

So when can we expect the next installment? Not that I blame you; I hated "Jitters" when I saw it for the first time, and it didn't get any better on subsequent viewings. Clark gets busted for throwing a party that grew out of his control, one of his dad's friends gets sick because of Lionel's top-secret kryptonite experiments and goes nuts, and Lionel gets away with it. I'd much rather see what you're gonna do with "Rogue." Now that Clark's dating Lana, that opens a whole new barrel of worms on what Phelan can do to get Clark to "cooperate."

[JNottle]

Hoping Lex becomes good.

Jason teague coming into it later on would be intresting, especially if shes dating him and not Clark at the time.

Also, his reputation should be massive by s4, if you carry on with that plot idea.

[Young Superman]

Hope you update this soon.

[QueenClana]

Can't wait for the next post. PPMS!

[superman_lives_on]

The Chronicles of Smallville: Jitters

TEN
Jitters
Clang! “Ow! Son of a gun!”

Jonathan rolled out from under the truck and sucked at his injured finger, carefully holding the red-handled pliers. It just figured that the dang thing would choose this afternoon to act up. It was Thursday the 6th of December, and he and Martha were heading off for a nice long weekend in Metropolis.

Inside the house, Martha was giving Clark some last-minute instructions as she checked a notebook. “What else – oh, don’t use the upstairs bathroom, it’s backed up. I have to snake the pipes.”

“Ew,” Clark grimaced in sympathy. “Where’s the leftover pizza?”

“Fridge, second shelf,” she said, gesturing, and he walked past her to fetch it. “You can nuke the chili for dinner.”

He smirked a bit. “Or,” he said, “I can do this.” He aimed his gaze at the slices of pizza on their plate, letting loose a gentle stream of heat – and the saran wrap quickly fogged up. He cut off the heat and felt the plate, then nodded with a satisfied smile. “Perfect.”

His mother chuckled, patting his arm. “I keep forgetting how useful that can be. It should really come in handy if any snow drops in to visit.”

“Or if our heat stops working,” he agreed, unwrapping the pizza and grabbing a slice. “Nothing like a roaring fire.”

“Clark!” his father suddenly called from outside. “Could you give me a hand, please?”

Uh-oh. No doubt the truck had inherited the late tractor’s stubbornness. He gave his mother a bit of a wide-eyed glance, and she took the plate of pizza without a word. He munched on the slice he’d grabbed as he headed outside. Jonathan tossed a couple of crates away and walked over to meet his son, gesturing towards the truck. “Could you, uh…?”

Clark smiled and nodded, getting his dad’s meaning right away. “Sure.” He held onto the pizza slice with one hand and grabbed hold of the truck with the other, lifting it enough for Jonathan to crawl under.

“Truck picked one heck of a day to snap an exhaust hangar,” the older man remarked as he set back to work.

Tell me about it, Clark thought, chewing another big bite. Good thing he was able to help – he did not want his parents’ anniversary ruined, especially not by something so small.

“Okay,” his mom said, walking over to them with a suitcase. “I left the number of our hotel on the nightstand. I think that’s everything.”

He nodded – he was pretty sure it was. “That oughta do it,” his dad said, getting out from under the truck and putting his tools away, and Clark took that as his cue to set it down gently. “I’m definitely raising your allowance,” Jonathan chuckled.

Clark smiled and swallowed the mouthful of pizza. “If you need anything,” Martha began.

“Call,” he finished for her. “Mom, it’s a couple of nights in Metropolis. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“I’m sure he will,” Jonathan agreed, slipping an arm around his wife. “And soon, Madame, so shall we be.” Martha smiled wryly.

“Oh, one thing before I forget,” Clark said. “Hold on a sec.” He vanished inside the house in a red-shirted blur, then reappeared without any trace of the pizza – he’d even wiped his fingers off. “I didn’t want to get anything on this,” he explained, drawing a white envelope from his pocket and handing it to them – it read “Mom & Dad” in swishy letters. “Happy anniversary,” he said warmly.

Martha’s smile was warmer still. “Oh, sweetheart,” she sighed, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”

He hugged back, feeling very pleased at her gratitude, then let her go so that Jonathan could help her into the passenger’s seat. “Thanks for the card, Clark,” the man said, patting his shoulder appreciatively as he walked past. “Hey, think fast!”

Clark did, and easily caught the rag that his dad had been using. He grinned and waved to his parents as the truck started up and began backing out of the driveway. He had to admit, a part of him envied them for being able to get away for a weekend. The rest of him, though, just hoped they had a good time.

He was certain he’d do the same.

* * * * *
“Mmm…remind me to ask your mom for the chili recipe.”

“No problem,” Clark chuckled, holding Lana close as they rested on the couch after a little dinner. She leaned into him, her eyes half-closed and her hair falling loosely over his shirt. The dishes and utensils had already been given a good preliminary scrubbing and were now in the wash, and they’d only left a couple of lights on, wanting to enjoy the quiet and dark evening.

God knew that things had been noisy just two or three days ago – for everyone, not just them. Smallville was struggling to recover from the bizarre events of Monday and Tuesday – the events where dreams and nightmares had been made real, granting the bullies free reign over the school and turning the teachers into their sock-puppets. Clark grimaced at the memories, knowing that the adults’ minds had been messed with – they still couldn’t clearly remember what had happened. Unfortunately, that meant the bullies were so far going unpunished – particularly Whitney, who’d easily fallen into the role of tyrant, and Dawn, who’d caused the Madness in the first place.

Lana seemed to sense his musings – perhaps she’d been having the same. “Things have really been crazy lately,” she murmured, snuggling a little closer to him. “It’s good to have some quiet time for ourselves.”

“Tell me about it,” he sighed, stroking her arm. “And I’m glad that Mom and Dad are getting their own this weekend.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she replied, her eyes fluttering with simple pleasure. “Is it wrong of me to envy them? They get to spend several nights in Metropolis while we have to visit the LuthorCorp plant, then deal with midterms next week.”

“Only if it’s wrong of me to envy them,” he assured her, smiling a bit. “And speaking of midterms, since we’ve been spending so much time and effort on studying for them, I think we could use a bit of a breather tomorrow.”

She blinked and moved her head to look at him. “How do you mean?”

He shrugged a little. “We could have our closest friends over.”

She raised her eyebrows, starting to smile. “What, like a party?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, sure. But I don’t want anyone else coming over – just Pete, Chloe, Billy, Abby, Eric, and your former squad-mates.”

She nodded, glancing around. “I don’t want a bunch of people coming over here either. I’d hate to see the farm get messed up.”

“Or for my parents to be angry when they get back,” he agreed. “Do you think we can avoid that?”

She leaned further into him and considered. “Well,” she finally said, “with the way news travels around the school, I doubt we could completely avoid others hearing about it and showing up uninvited.”

“Probably not,” he admitted, feeling bad. Then his brow furrowed. “Unless…”

She raised her own. “Unless?”

He suddenly smiled and looked fully at her. “Unless they didn’t know where to show up.”

She blinked – then she got it and grinned. “I like the way you think, Clark,” she purred, and shifted to plant a kiss on his jaw – and for a moment, he didn’t feel up to much more thinking. His eyes rolled back in his head a little, and she chuckled to see the effect she had on him. Unable to resist, she pressed more soft kisses to his jaw and neck, making his eyes flutter shut and his throat emit a deep moan.

Her kisses were threatening to set him on fire – literally in the case of his eyes. After a minute, though, she relented – she knew better than to make him lose control. He rubbed at his eyes a little, cleared his throat, then smiled at her. “How do you do that?”

“Instinct, I guess,” she remarked, smiling back. They shared a brief kiss, then sat up on the couch. “You think we should turn in?”

“Yeah,” he said, though he hated not getting to spend more time down here with her. “We do still have school tomorrow.” He looked at her hopefully. “You want to stay the night?”

She grinned and nodded. “Nell won’t be back from that business trip, or whatever it really is, until Saturday at the earliest.” Her expression softened. “Besides, I like knowing that you’re so near. It makes me feel completely safe.”

He just about melted from that, and all he could think to do was give her a gentle hug. He’d never been the best at articulating his thoughts and feelings, so he tried to communicate without words just how much he wanted her to be safe, how deeply he yearned for her very presence, how her happiness meant everything to him.

She got the message and squeezed him with her arms, smiling as she pressed her face into his chest. The last thing she wanted to do was break their contact…but alas, she had to in order to head upstairs and go through the familiar routine of getting ready for bed. Luckily, he’d remembered to warn her about the upstairs bathroom, so she brushed her teeth and such in the downstairs one.

Soon enough, they were cuddling together in his bed, the covers draped over their lightly-clad bodies. She felt his strong arm slip around her petite frame, and she smiled, feeling even warmer and safer. He smiled as well, closed his eyes, and let himself begin to drift off.

Some time later, he felt her fingers stroking his massive chest through his white T-shirt. He inhaled deeply, and her lovely scent filled his nostrils and flowed into his lungs. It was downright intoxicating, and he smiled lazily…

…and then he felt those fingers slip southward, finding the hem of his shirt. His eyes opened, and he saw her looking at him intently, her lips forming a small smile as she took hold of the hem. He opened his mouth to ask what she was doing, but the look in her eyes stole his voice away. She looked…hungry.

Without a word, she drew the shirt up, exposing more and more of his serrated muscles. He swallowed hard and stole his voice back for a moment – just long enough to whisper, “Lana?”

“Sssh,” she murmured, her eyes sparkling, and drew up to press her lips into his. He gave up on speaking and returned the kiss…his heart began to pound as his hands ghosted over her and felt warm, bare skin…he broke away to breathe and blinked his eyes open—

—and saw only the foot of his bed, and his own body covered by the blanket. He looked to the side and saw her sleeping peacefully, a small smile on her face. Emitting a soft, rueful chuckle, he sank back and rubbed at his eyes.

Good grief, did he have it bad or what?

* * * * *
Remarkably, no such dreams plagued Clark for the rest of the night, and Friday dawned to see him and Lana living the cliché of “bright-eyed and bushy-tailed” as they prepared for school. After washing up and sharing a nice and simple breakfast, they went over the finer details of their plans for the evening. If all went well, only their close friends would be present at the farm.

Two of said friends met them outside and walked down the driveway as the new school bus came into view on Route Five. After the near-fatal events of Tuesday had left the old bus half-destroyed, Lex had stepped in and sped up the process of getting a replacement. Good thing, too – none of them had very much faith in the local government to do it swiftly. But such thoughts were far from their minds at the moment. “So what are you gonna do now that you’re officially home alone?” Pete asked Clark.

His ostentatiously tall friend shrugged a little. “I was thinking of spending time with a few people.”

Chloe’s eyebrows arched very nearly on their own. “Which means?”

She didn’t remember what had happened when the Madness had taken her, and as far as Clark and Pete were concerned, it was for the best. Lana had to agree – she hadn’t been present, as she’d been a little busy getting her life threatened, but Clark had told her about the incident after they’d shared some stress-relief therapy. But now was not the time to dwell on the past – they had something fun to look forward to. “Which means a small gathering of our friends,” she filled in.

Clark nodded, seeing the bus coming close to the driveway’s entrance. “One last chance to relax before the field trip and then exams.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Chloe said, grinning in delight. “Do my ears deceive me, or is Clark Kent actually suggesting a party?”

“Small gathering,” Lana corrected her mildly. “We don’t want a mess at the Kents’ house.”

“Ugh,” Clark agreed. “No thanks.” The bus stopped, its door already open, and he stood aside so Lana could climb up first. “Let the others know about it,” he requested of his two friends. “Tell them to meet us outside that abandoned warehouse just outside of town. And remember, the key word is ‘small’.”

“Alright, Clark, whatever you say,” Chloe said, waving a hand dismissively. “Small gathering. Got it.” But as he turned and walked up after Lana, she gave Pete a bemused look. Small gathering? Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. At least he’d had the sense to keep it away from the house.

Sure enough, Smallville’s ability to get word spread quickly hadn’t changed. Every single high school student, regardless of grade level, heard about Clark Kent’s first-ever party, and no sooner had school ended than those who game for cutting loose headed towards the unused warehouse. Perhaps unavoidably, among them were the least inclined to restrain themselves and the most liable to get arrested in the near future for unsavory activities involving alcohol…especially their leader.

Easily half the school descended on the place, more than a few bringing along refreshments – the evil-minded jocks, of course, thought that the illegal stuff was a requirement. Never mind the opinions of the guy hosting the party – they were here to have some fun, dammit! And if he didn’t like it…well, they were certain that they could “convince” him to loosen up.

But as the party became wilder and wilder, the bullies became more and more perplexed. There was no sign of Kent, let alone Fordman’s ex – for whatever the hell reason, she kept hanging around the farm boy. This didn’t please Whitney himself at all – he ordered his cronies to keep on the lookout for Kent. He was in a mood to mete out some payback for ruining their fantasies a couple days back.

No such opportunity arose, though. For the duration of the party, Clark and Lana – and their closest friends – were simply nowhere in sight.

* * * * *
“I can’t believe you sent half the school to the wrong place!”

Clark shrugged, smiling sheepishly, at Billy’s amused exclamation. “What else was I supposed to do?” he defended. “I knew that word of the party wouldn’t stay secret. I didn’t want all those guys tearing up my home.”

“Besides,” Lana pointed out as she leaned into him, “he didn’t do the actual telling. That was Chloe and Pete’s doing. We stuck to telling you guys where the actual party was being held.”

“Gosh, guys,” Megan laughed from her vantage point on the couch with Jenna, Haley and Eric. “I didn’t realize you were so devious.”

The not-that-secret couple chuckled in reply and resumed making sandwiches. Their friends shook their heads and turned back to the movie playing on the television, and a moment later, they heard the downstairs toilet flushing. The sink ran for a minute, and then Delia came in. “What’d I miss?” she asked.

“Not much,” Megan assured her. “It’s almost to a good part.”

Delia nodded and rejoined her friends, and Clark had to bite his lip as he discreetly listened in. This particular good part had a knack for making him laugh. He began a mental countdown: Five, four, three, two…

Right on cue, a shrill male voice exclaimed from the TV: “He didn’t fall?! Inconceivable!”

It was all Clark could do to hold in his laughter, especially as a Spanish tenor remarked, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

He snorted, and Lana bit her own lip as she looked at him. She reached over and offered him the glass of water she’d poured out a minute ago, having expected this. He accepted it with a grin and drowned his laughter, hoping that nobody else had noticed.

Whether they did or not, it was hard not to notice when the front door swung open. Everyone looked – and several wished they hadn’t, for the new arrival was an irritated-looking Chloe Sullivan. She came through with Pete in tow and made a beeline for Clark. “You told me the party was at the old warehouse!” she snapped without preamble.

“No I didn’t,” Clark said patiently. “I told you to have everyone meet there.”

She snorted. “Yeah, and in this case, ‘everyone’ meant half the freaking school! Didn’t you expect that?!”

“Of course we did,” Lana intervened calmly. “But Clark also said the key word was ‘small’, remember?”

Clark nodded and gestured to the others. “We didn’t want anyone except you guys here. But we also knew that word of a party was bound to get out. So…” He shrugged a bit.

“So you used us to misdirect them,” Pete summarized. “You were never gonna show up there.” He whistled softly. “Dang…didn’t realize you were so devious, man.”

“That’s just what I said!” Megan laughed from the couch, and he grinned at her.

Chloe blinked, then rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “Oi vey…”

“Aw, c’mon, Chloe,” Clark coaxed her. “You should know that I don’t like big, noisy parties anyway, especially not in my house.”

“And even if they do get noisy,” Lana added, “they should be small – just close friends. Less messy that way.” She smiled. “This is much more our speed.”

“I can see that,” Pete said, wandering over to the couch. His eyes fell upon the screen, and he lit up. “Hey – I know this movie! My parents love it!”

Chloe looked around, taking it all in, and sighed. “Alright, alright,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. “I guess I should’ve known better. Sorry, guys.” Then she glanced at the sandwiches hopefully. “Got any PBJ there?”

They did, and every last trace of tension melted away. The sun slowly sank towards the western horizon, painting the sky in fiery colors as it drew ever closer to vanishing. All the while, the house was filled with amiable chatter about everything and nothing – just the way Clark, Lana and their friends liked it. They were all laughing over a story Pete was telling about some especially dumb jocks and a slippery floor when the phone rang.

“I’d better get that,” Clark said, and suited action to words. “It’s probably my parents checking up on me. Hello?” he answered the phone – and his guess proved dead-on. “Hi, Mom.” He smiled and rolled his eyes a bit. “Yes, I’m doing fine – how are you and Dad doing?”

“Momma’s boy,” Pete coughed in the background – but it broke into an actual cough as Chloe elbowed him in the stomach, giving him a look to be quiet. Lana gave her a grateful look and listened idly to the conversation, smiling at the thought of what Mrs. Kent was probably saying.

“Really?” Clark said, sounding delighted. “That sounds like fun. What?” He glanced towards his friends, looking a little worried. “No, it’s just a few people over – you know, Lana, the practice team.” He sighed. “No, Mom, there’s not a big party going on. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

Damn straight he wouldn’t, the others thought. Chloe felt rather rueful, but not overly so, that she hadn’t realized that immediately – she felt more rueful about the fact that Clark had used her lapse in good sense to his advantage. Wasn’t that supposed to be her shtick?

Knock knock knock. The heavy sound at the front door startled everyone and derailed their trains of thought quite nicely. What the heck? Lana wondered, rising from her seat to go answer it. Who on Earth could that be at this hour?

“Yeah, I heard that,” Clark said into the phone, wondering the same thing. “No idea. I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t handle. You and Dad enjoy your time over there – you’ve more than earned it.” He smiled warmly. “Love you too, Mom.”

He hung up and idly turned to check the door via a quick x-ray. He needn’t have bothered – at that very moment, Lana opened it and jumped back, gasping in shock. “Clark?!”

Clark rushed forward as everyone else got to their feet, even more startled. A big man leaned against the screen door, his dark brown skin mostly covered by a dirty black trenchcoat. He was breathing heavily and his eyes seemed unfocused, and he wasn’t looking steady on his feet. Despite his bedraggled appearance and the failing light outside, Clark recognized him instantly. “Earl?” he said, stunned, even as he slipped an arm around Lana. “Earl Jenkins?”

The man looked at him and offered a weak smile. “Hi, Clark,” he said, his deep voice sounding strained. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Clark said, feeling oddly nervous. Even without the obvious signs, his gut was telling him that something was wrong – very wrong. “What are you doing here?”

Earl inhaled unsteadily and admitted, “I came to see your dad. I need his help.” He shook his head a little. “He’s the only one I can trust.”

Clark frowned, feeling even more certain that trouble was afoot. “He’s out of town with Mom,” he said. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?”

Earl shook his head even more, raising a hand to rub at his eyes. “Everything,” he wheezed, looking like he was about to fall apart on the spot. “Please, Clark…I can’t go on like this.”

Clark grimaced, then made up his mind – he unlocked the screen door and stepped away to let Earl in. The big man staggered in, looked at him gratefully – and keeled onto his front, gasping in pain. Without conscious thought, Clark dropped to his knees and reached a hand to help him up—

—and his nerves caught on fire. He ripped his hand away, gasping, and clutched at it. Lana stared at it in shock – the veins and arteries were bulging, filled with green—

—just like they did whenever Clark got too close to meteor rock. Both their stomachs sank. Oh, no.

Earl hadn’t stopped moving – in fact, he was trembling all over, like he was having a seizure. Feeling his instincts claw at his sunken stomach in warning, Clark backed away, Lana moving with him – and not a moment too soon. Earl’s trembling suddenly turned very rapid – his body became a blur, shaking upon the hard floor.

Clark and Lana backed even further away and turned to their friends, who were staring mutely at the sheer weirdness of the sight. “Guys!” Clark all but snapped, and they jolted out of their stupor. “Call 911! We need an ambulance, now!”

* * * * *
Earl seemed unconscious as the orderlies wheeled him through the hospital – the bizarre shaking had taken something out of him. Clark and Lana watched worriedly from the waiting area until the gurney vanished from sight – nor were they alone. “What’s wrong with him?” Pete wondered.

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” Chloe said dryly, dropping into her chair and popping open a can of soda. “He’s in the wrong place. He should be in a detox center.”

Lana gave her a chiding look, but it paled in comparison to Clark’s. “Don’t say that, Chloe,” he said, his quiet but firm tone brooking no argument. “He’s not on drugs.”

Chloe winced, but didn’t back down. “Then why was he shaking like a junkie?” she asked in a “pray tell” kind of voice.

Clark grimaced, shifting in his chair – he wasn’t sure how he could explain what he knew to be the truth. Lana touched his arm sympathetically, then looked at the blonde journalist. “Call it a hunch or a wild guess or whatever,” she offered, “but we think he was infected by the meteor rocks.”

That made Chloe blink. “Really?” she said, clearly intrigued. “I guess that would explain how he could shake so fast.”

“Ya think?” Pete muttered. “I’ve seen enough to buy into the meteor theory by now.”

“Why thank you, Pete,” Chloe said in a mock-lofty tone, smirking. She looked at Clark curiously. “How do you know this guy, anyway?”

“He worked on our farm for six seasons,” Clark provided. “I spent twelve hours a day with him out in the fields. He was a good guy, you know – just trying to support himself and his wife, Belinda.” He smiled a little. “Last we heard from them, they’d just had their first child – Johnny.”

“Awww,” Lana said, her eyes shining from her own smile. “Sounds like you were pretty close.”

“Yeah,” Clark said, smiling wider. “He was like family.” A chuckle escaped him. “He even tried to teach me how to play guitar. Said it was a good way to impress girls.”

Lana giggled at that, Pete snickered, and even Chloe couldn’t hide a smile. “We’re all suckers for a guy with a six-string,” she opined. “How come we’ve never heard you play?”

Clark dipped his head sheepishly. “I kept snapping the strings,” he admitted. “I think Earl got sick of replacing them.”

Chloe nodded slightly, then frowned. “I really don’t want to upset you, Clark,” she said softly, “but just because you spend a lot of time with someone doesn’t mean you know their darkest secrets.”

He sighed. “Maybe not, but I just can’t believe Earl would get into any kind of drugs. He and his wife are decent people.”

Chloe conceded that point in silence. “I believe you, Clark,” Lana said even more softly. “Still, why did he leave?”

He looked at her with a tiny smile, grateful for her support. “He took a janitorial job at the LuthorCorp plant. It was full-time and the pay was better, you know? He was there for about a year – then, for some reason, he got transferred to Metropolis. That was about six months ago.” He looked down, feeling a bit guilty. “We kind of lost touch with them. Now I really wish we hadn’t.”

Lana’s hand found its way onto his shoulder, and he covered it with his own, not even noticing or caring if Pete and Chloe saw. But his ears couldn’t help but notice a familiar voice saying, “Where can we find Earl Jenkins?”

Clark and Lana sat up and looked at the desk behind their chairs – two sheriff’s deputies, one of them Ethan Miller, were talking to the nurse stationed at it. “Exam room three, down the hall,” she provided.

“Deputy Miller,” Clark said, walking over with Lana right next to him and Pete and Chloe in tow. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I’m a friend of Earl’s. Is he in some kind of trouble?”

Ethan nodded grimly. “Definitely. I hate to have to tell you this, Clark, but—”

CRASH!

The noise from down the hall cut Ethan off, and they all looked towards it just as a man called, “Doc! We need some help in here!”

Clark’s legs began moving almost of their own accord, spurred to action by the cry for help. The deputies rushed ahead, but the four teenagers remained close behind. As they neared the exam room, a rolling set of metal shelves shot out through the door and slammed into the wall – and they could hear a terrible shaking sound, as if an earthquake was raging inside.

As far as poor Earl was concerned, it was – he was standing in the middle of the room, once again a blur of violent shaking, when the deputies got in. “What the hell?” Ethan muttered, stunned. He and his partner approached the helpless man, trying to grab hold of him.

They shouldn’t have bothered. Ethan realized it was no use and stopped just out of Earl’s reach, but his partner got knocked back and crashed into another set of metal shelves. “Earl!” Clark called from the doorway. He wanted very badly to hurry to the rescue, but he could tell that was a bad idea. He approached Earl more cautiously, staying out of reach of those flailing arms.

A few moments later, the shaking died down, and Earl collapsed to the floor. Ethan and one of the nurses restrained him, but they needn’t have – he was covered in sweat and clearly exhausted. He looked up at the farm boy and sniffed hard, his eyes moist. “I can’t stand it, Clark,” he whispered. “The damn jitters…they’re gonna kill me.”

Somehow, Clark couldn’t doubt that, even though his entire being was repulsed by the mere thought of another innocent man – let alone a friend – dying. The nurses ushered him out of the exam room, and he rejoined his three partners in crime-solving. “How is he?” Lana asked, her whole face suffused with concern.

Clark shook his head. “In bad shape. He thinks he’s dying…and I think he’s right.”

“Oh, no,” she whispered, and slipped her arms around him supportively. He held her close, wishing that he knew how to help Earl. Yet even with all his abilities, that seemed beyond his grasp.

When irony struck, it stung deep.

* * * * *
Clark came home to an empty house – Lana, Pete and Chloe had been the only ones to stay with him after the ambulance arrived. The others had headed home, no longer in a party mood, and he didn’t blame them one bit. Now Pete and Chloe had gone home as well – but Lana, bless her heart, hadn’t. She walked with him to the couch and sat very close to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

For a long minute, neither of them spoke – their thoughts hadn’t quite settled down. When they did, however, she broke the silence. “I think your parents should know about this.”

He looked at his hands, then at her…then he nodded. “Yeah. They’d want to know. And Earl did want Dad’s help.” He sighed. “But I’m going to hate ruining their anniversary.”

“You won’t,” she gently insisted. “Even if they cut their trip short, and they probably will, this isn’t your fault, Clark. It wasn’t your fault when you had to leave me to save Chloe.” She slipped her hand into his. “Helping your friends is more important than any vacation.”

Once again, he was left dumbstruck at her seemingly instinctive ability to know just what to say. He smiled a little and nodded more decisively, though his guilt hadn’t fully abated – but that didn’t matter right now. “You’re right, Lana. And knowing Dad, he’ll want to help Earl, no question about it.”

With that, they rose from the couch and walked to the phone. He checked the card his mom had left and dialed the number of their hotel room, half of him hoping they were there and the other half – the one that hated the very thought of ruining their weekend – hoping they weren’t.

They were. “Hi, Mom,” he said. “No, we’re fine – but something did happen.” He swallowed a bit, still wishing he didn’t have to break the bad news – but he knew that was a pointless wish. “Remember that knocking we heard? It was Earl Jenkins. He’s all messed up.”

“Messed up?” Martha’s voice came from the other end of the line. “How do you mean?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted, “but I think meteor rocks are involved – he’s in bad shape. And he’s wanted for murder by the Metropolis Police Department.”

There was a long moment of shocked silence. Then there was a clicking sound, and Jonathan’s voice came over the line: “We’re on speakerphone, son. What’s this about Earl being wanted for murder?”

Clark winced at the disbelief in his father’s voice – truth be told, he didn’t want to believe it either. “From what Deputy Miller told me at the hospital, a janitor was found dead at the LuthorCorp Plaza. I guess they found evidence that Earl was there.”

Jonathan made a wounded sound, and Clark felt only sympathy and empathy for him. After a moment, he asked, “Well, what did he have to say for himself?”

“Nothing,” Clark admitted. “I couldn’t get close to him.”

“Why, because of the police?”

“No – because of the meteor rock.” Clark looked at his hand, remembering the agony all too well. “Whenever I got close to him, it felt like I was getting close to one – just like how I felt whenever I got near Lana’s necklace.” He shot her an apologetic look, and she mouthed her reassurance – she was past blaming herself for that whole mess. “But that’s not the worst of it. He keeps on having these really fast, really hard seizures, and he said they’re killing him. The last one he had knocked a man away. It’s just…” He broke off for a moment, shaking his head. “Like I said, he’s all messed up, Dad. He said you’re the only one who can help him.”

Lana looked at him with sad sympathy and once again slipped her hand into his. He gave her a grateful look and waited patiently. Finally, Jonathan said, “Alright. We’d better come on down tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Clark said softly. “I’m sorry I ruined your anniversary.”

“No, baby,” Martha said soothingly. “Don’t blame yourself. You did the right thing in telling us.”

He smiled at that – she sounded like Lana had. He exchanged good-nights with them and hung up, then accepted a warm hug from his girlfriend. At length, she looked up at him. “Can I stay here one more night?” she asked softly. “I don’t want you to be alone – not after this.”

That touched him deeply, and he could only think of one way to accept her offer. “As you wish,” he whispered.

The answering sparkle in her eyes could have outshone any star. She leaned up and kissed him for a long minute, then walked upstairs with him to get ready for bed. It was a good thing she’d brought an extra change of clothes over – even without Nell, her house seemed oppressive somehow. Perhaps it was the emptiness – though it currently lacked the physical presence of its selfish and shortsighted mistress, it also lacked that of the farm boy who stood against everything said mistress represented.

By contrast, the Kent farmhouse was filled with the presence of its family, as if Clark and his parents – and the previous generations of Kents, for that matter – had worked their very existence into the trusty woodwork. As Lana looked around Clark’s bedroom, she could almost hear the echoes of those years and people gone by, intertwined with the present-day voices of the three close-knit Kents.

Maybe it was wrong of her, maybe it was selfish – but she envied them for it. Clark was lucky to have such a loving family, regardless of the lack of any blood relation. She’d had one with her parents, of course, but she hadn’t known them long enough to truly feel their presences with her. That made every last bit of truth she could learn about them all the more important…and it made Nell’s failures as her guardian all the more galling.

Clark’s hand stroked her arm, and she leaned back into him for another eternal moment, closing her eyes. Thank God for him…thank God that the Kents had taken him in and done such a fine job raising him. She was blessed to have him in her life, especially as her closest friend and only true confidant. Even if she hadn’t said it to his face yet, she loved him – and she was pretty darn sure that he loved her in return.

Smiling at the thought, she turned and looked up at him. “So who gets the bathroom first?”

He chuckled. “You go ahead. I know better than to try and fight you for it.”

“You should,” she agreed, poking his stomach playfully. She grinned and walked past him, and maybe it was just his imagination, but there seemed to be an extra sway in her hips. He chuckled again and sat down on the bed without thinking about it. There weren’t many things better than having Lana Lang in your bed, even with the clothes staying firmly on.

He found himself yawning and rubbed at his eyes, surprised at how worn out he felt. The events involving Earl must have taken something out of him. Still not really thinking, he leaned back onto the bed and closed his eyes, only intending to rest a bit until Lana came back.

He lost track of time…but eventually, through the darkness, he felt her shaking him. “Clark? Clark!”

He gasped and blinked his eyes open, almost leaping off the bed in bewilderment. Lana backed away, laughing at his reaction to her wake-up call. She was wearing her T-shirt and undies, having just come from the bathroom. “Clark, are you okay?” she asked, bemused.

He looked around, blinking several times…then comprehension dawned, and he covered his face, sighing in annoyance.

“Clark?” she asked again, her voice concerned. “Are you alright?”

He uncovered his face and swallowed a bit. “Yeah,” he managed to say. “Sorry – I guess I dozed off.”

“Looks like it,” she agreed. She stepped aside, gesturing. “The bathroom’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” he said, a genuine smile of gratitude coming onto his face. He walked out of his bedroom, and she climbed into bed and waited patiently – luckily, he didn’t take long to come back, all showered and washed up and calm. Seeing her in that outfit threatened to ruin his calm, but he controlled himself and climbed in beside her. “Let’s hope that we can wake up early enough to avoid any awkward questions tomorrow,” he muttered.

“I’m sure the alarm clock will help,” she assured him, smiling. “Good night, Clark.”

“Good night, Lana,” he replied, and they exchanged one last kiss before they settled down and closed their eyes. She leaned into him, enjoying his body warmth – to her, he was as warm and soothing as the sun itself. He’d always felt that way, really.

It definitely made falling asleep that much easier. The night passed without any dreams for either of them, which he was profoundly thankful for in the morning. They had dressed and were finishing up breakfast when Jonathan and Martha got home. “Hey, kids,” the former greeted them. “Did everyone have a good time yesterday?”

“We sure did, Dad,” Clark said, exchanging hugs with them. “I hope you did too.”

“No worries, sweetheart,” Martha assured him, hugging Lana. “Our trip may have been cut short, but we’ll still treasure it.”

“Glad to hear it,” Lana said, smiling. It faded, though, as she remembered why they’d cut it short. “I guess you’ll want to see Mr. Jenkins.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan said softly. “Is he still in the hospital?”

Clark nodded. “He was when we left. I know which room he’s in.”

“Alright,” his dad said. “Let’s you and I head on over and see if we can find out what happened to him.”

They left, and after a moment of companionable silence, the two ladies sat on the couch together. “So how did Clark manage to keep things from going wild here?” Martha inquired, smiling.

Lana giggled. “Funny you should ask – it was pretty sneaky.” She recounted their plan and how, according to their friends, it had succeeded spectacularly. “With any luck, the kids who just wanted to cause trouble were completely stymied.”

Martha laughed, amused and impressed. “I have to hand it to you, Lana – that was smart.” She looked around the house. “And it means no clean-up work for us.”

“Tell me about it,” Lana said, rolling her eyes. “We did not want anyone to have to deal with that.” She giggled again, then arched her eyebrows inquisitively. “So what’s Metropolis like these days?”

“Not much different from the last time I was there,” Martha admitted. “We saved up enough for a good hotel room and restaurant.” She smiled fondly. “It was wonderful – just the two of us.”

Lana smiled in return. “You used to live in Metropolis,” she noted; Martha nodded. “Do you ever miss it?”

Martha smiled wryly. “As it happens, Jonathan asked me that same question last night.”

“Oh?” Lana inquired. “What’d you say?”

“That sometimes, I do miss it,” the older woman said. “But I didn’t move to Smallville for action and glamor. I moved because a certain man told me we’d never be rich or travel the world, but he’d always love me.” Her blue eyes sparkled. “How could I pass up an offer like that?”

Lana breathed out softly, touched. “I know I couldn’t,” she whispered after a moment. “That’s so romantic.”

“Yeah,” Martha said, and hugged her warmly. “I’m glad you and Clark have become so close, Lana. I’ve never seen him so happy.”

Lana sniffed a bit. “Well, the feeling’s mutual,” she said. “I’ve never been so happy.” She pulled back and swallowed a bit. “Mrs. Kent, I know there’s a lot Clark hasn’t told me about himself, because you’re afraid of what’ll happen. And I promise, I’m not going to push – when he’s ready to talk, I’ll be ready to listen. But I want you to know…I have never felt so blessed to have anyone in my life.” She wiped at her eyes a bit. “I don’t know what I’d be without him.”

Martha looked at her gently, her eyes showing nothing but understanding and empathy. “You love him, don’t you?”

Lana nodded, unable to stop a tear from falling. “I do…more than anything in this world.”

Martha nodded back, unsurprised but touched beyond words, and hugged her again. “Trust me, sweetheart – the feeling is definitely mutual.”

Lana smiled at that. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I know.”

[superman_lives_on]

The Chronicles of Smallville: Jitters

* * * * *
The hospital was just as quiet as the farm, a welcome respite from the chaos that had taken place last night. Earl Jenkins lay on a cot in exam room three, watched over by a deputy and several members of the staff. While a nurse took his pulse, a doctor came out to where two tall and handsome men stood. “What’s wrong with him?” Jonathan asked.

The doctor sighed, her dark brown eyes looking a bit weary from a long night. “Well, to be honest, I don’t have much of an idea,” she admitted. “It’s amazing his body’s been able to survive the seizures this long.” She walked over to a set of monitors and began turning them on. “Here, take a look at the x-rays.” The black-and-white pictures popped on, showing different parts of Earl’s skeleton…and dark spots scattered all over. “It looks like he’s got some sort of mineral poisoning, but it’s not from any mineral I’ve seen before.”

Clark wasn’t surprised – he doubted that most doctors would be able to recognize meteor rock. “Is that why he’s shaking so hard?” he asked, wanting to be sure.

The doctor nodded. “Tiny fragments are embedded under his skin. His body keeps trying to push them out.”

“How did they get in there?” Jonathan wanted to know.

“He claims there was an explosion at the LuthorCorp plant six months ago,” the doctor said, sounding skeptical.

Clark exchanged a look of surprise with his dad – Earl had been transferred to Metropolis about six months ago, but they’d never known why. “I don’t remember hearing anything about that,” Jonathan said.

“That’s because it didn’t happen,” the doctor revealed. “I pulled the plant’s safety records, I checked with OSHA and the EPA. There was no explosion.” She shrugged. “So how these fragments got into him is a complete mystery.”

The two Kents exchanged another look, then Jonathan asked, “Doc, can I go in and talk to him by myself?”

She nodded gravely. “Better hurry up. Metropolis P.D. will be here any minute to transfer him back to the city.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, and she walked away as he looked towards the door. The only chance he had of getting to the bottom of this lay past it.

Clark was fully aware of that, and he was also aware that whatever had happened to Earl involved the meteor rocks. “I can’t go with you, can I?” he said.

Jonathan shook his head. “I’m sorry, son. I know you want to help, but if you’re right, he was exposed to the meteors, and I don’t want you passing out around here. That’d bring us a whole other set of problems.”

Feel the love, Clark thought ruefully. Those rocks were nothing but trouble, no matter who you were. He moved to the window as Jonathan opened the door and went into the room, and the deputy stationed there left him alone. Earl looked up at him as if he were the second coming of Christ. “Jonathan,” he whispered, taking his old friend’s hand. “Am I glad to see you.”

“Hey, Earl,” Jonathan said softly. “Look.” He indicated the window, beyond which Clark stood waiting.

Earl reached for a microphone hanging over the railing and pushed the button. “Clark? Can you hear me?” Clark smiled and waved in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your party.”

Clark bent down and said through the other end, “It’s fine, Earl. Don’t worry about it.”

Earl nodded in relief and released the button, resting his head on the pillow again. Jonathan looked at him seriously. “Alright, Earl. What’s going on? I can’t believe that you’d want to kill anybody.”

“I didn’t want to kill Will,” Earl said softly. “It was an accident. I was trying to see Lionel Luthor.”

“Why?” Jonathan asked – he knew he wouldn’t ever want to see that man.

“To find out what they were using on Level Three,” Earl said.

Level Three? What the heck is that? Jonathan wondered. “Earl, you’re not making any sense.”

Clark listened, still able to hear them through the window. “When I got that job at the Smallville plant,” Earl began, “I was assigned to clean Level Three. They were doing these hush-hush crop experiments, a new kind of fertilizer supposed to make corn grow twice as fast. There was something in the fertilizer that was unstable. One night, there was a huge explosion – I was cleaning at the time, and this stuff…it got under my skin.” He raised his hands demonstratively. “And the next thing I knew, they shut it all down and I was transferred to Metropolis. Then two months ago…the jitters started.”

A chill ran down Clark’s spine. He’d never thought that word could sound so menacing. “Did you see a doctor?” Jonathan asked softly.

“I must have seen fifty,” Earl said ruefully. “But nobody could tell me what was wrong. They needed to know what I was exposed to. But when I went back to the plant, they told me that Level Three didn’t exist, that it never had. I’ve got to find out what they were using. That’s why I need your help, Jonathan. You gotta get me out of here.”

Jonathan sighed – as much as he wanted to help, he didn’t think aiding and abetting a fugitive would cut it. “Earl, you’re wanted for murder.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Earl said desperately, grasping his shirt. “I can’t control it. I’m running out of time.” His eyes became moist. “The jitters are getting worse. They’ve already cost me my job, my marriage, my baby…I gotta get back into that plant or I’m gonna die.” He stared at Jonathan imploringly. “Help me.”

Help me…two words that Clark simply couldn’t resist. Truth be told, Jonathan didn’t want to resist…but he felt at a loss. “You get some rest, Earl,” he said softly. He stroked the dark man’s bald head, then turned and left the room, feeling terrible every step.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Clark asked softly.

“I have no idea,” Jonathan said more forcefully than he need to.

Clark grimaced. “Well, something in my gut says he is. I’ve still got that field trip to the LuthorCorp plant this afternoon. I bet I could take a look around.” Jonathan looked at him, and he tried to forestall a refusal: “Dad, you know me. I probably wouldn’t have to look very far to find something.”

Jonathan shook his head. “I know that you’re worried about Earl, but he’s in more trouble than he can handle. I don’t even know if he’s in his right mind, so please, don’t…don’t do anything.”

Clark sighed and looked down a bit, not saying anything in response. But as he followed his father out of the hospital, he had absolutely no intention of doing nothing. He owed it to Earl, if not to himself, to find out what was going on. Besides, his gut told him that things were going to turn ugly soon.

He had no idea how right he was. As they walked away, Earl released the button on the mike. He’d overheard the whole thing. He had no idea what Clark meant about not having to look far, but it didn’t matter – Jonathan had shot him down.

Even his friend wasn’t going to help. He was on his own…and at this point, he was desperate enough to try anything.

* * * * *
The school bus carrying Clark and his classmates arrived at LuthorCorp’s Fertilizer Plant Number Three right on time, and the two guards at the gate let it through without a word. Almost before they knew it, the students had walked through the front doors and stopped by a set of gates. “Hello, everybody,” said the amiable middle-aged man who greeted them. “I’m Gabe Sullivan, plant manager and proud father.” He looked next to Clark and waved, smiling. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Chloe felt all kinds of awkward. “Hi, Dad,” she said quietly. The instant he looked away, she stepped behind Clark – who was wearing his best red plaid – in a surprisingly successful attempt to hide. Lana, standing on Clark’s other side in a bright blue jacket, looked at her with silent empathy.

“Welcome to LuthorCorp,” Gabe continued, “where we give a crap.”

Several students let out awkward chuckles, Clark and Lana winced, and Chloe muttered, “Okay, somebody kill me now.”

“A little fertilizer humor there,” Gabe chuckled.

Well, no wonder it’s so crappy, Clark and Lana thought – but, of course, they were too polite to say anything.

“Alright,” Gabe went on, “before we go inside, I need you to remove all your cell phones, pagers, jewelry. Anything that jangles, dangles, or rings needs to go in these plastic trays right here.” The students moved to obey – including Whitney, who was unfortunately in their class. Lana once again felt grateful that she’d stopped wearing that wretched necklace.

“Alright, any other questions?” Gabe said. Clark stepped forward a bit and raised his hand, seeing an opportunity. “Yes?”

“I heard there was a third level to the plant,” Clark said casually. “Is that true?”

Gabe looked at him blankly for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, yeah. That’s where we do the alien autopsies.” He laughed at his own joke again, but Clark winced at the idea – good thing it was only a joke. “I think we’d better get started.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Chloe implored Clark, walking past him as her father began leading the students. Lana, however, knew why he’d asked that question – and the answer meant that if there was indeed a Level Three, it was a close-kept secret. Even the plant manager didn’t know about it.

The not-so-secret couple walked together at the back of the class, keeping well away from Whitney and looking around casually for any clues. Nothing jumped out at them, though Clark felt increasingly certain that they were walking towards danger.

“Watch out for these babies,” Gabe called, indicating some machinery. “262 degrees. They get hot.”

The students kept following, Pete and Chloe oblivious to Clark and Lana’s search – and then, suddenly, Clark spotted something. A door with an “Authorized Personnel Only” sign was slowly swinging shut nearby. He glanced at Lana, who squeezed his hand and mouthed, “Good luck.” He nodded and released her hand with obvious reluctance. The instant she looked away, he rushed over at super-speed and got through the door just before it could close.

On went the tour, with only Lana aware that they’d just lost one member. She stayed close to Chloe and Pete, keeping a wary eye on Whitney – luckily, he wasn’t even looking at her. She still wasn’t sure how much he remembered about the events of Monday and Tuesday, but she remembered with chilling detail the power he’d gained while under the Madness. He’d been almost as dangerous as that Thing that had made a mockery of Clark’s heroism—

She stopped herself from dwelling too much on that. It was bad enough she’d almost died at the creature’s hands – she didn’t want to feel paranoid that it would jump out from behind one of those big pipes and kill her. Ahead, Mr. Sullivan led the students through a wide doorway and into a large room with long desks and various computer monitors. “This is it,” he said, gesturing grandly. “The plant’s mission control. 100,000 tons of animal waste is processed here every year. Trust me, the results can be pretty explosive. So if any of you had beans for lunch, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

More students laughed this time, including Pete but neither Lana nor Chloe. “Among his peers, he’s considered witty,” the blonde said quietly, adjusting her green jacket.

“Mmm-hmm,” Pete said, smiling. He looked around, then asked, “Hey, where’s Clark?”

Before Lana could come up with a convincing lie, a loud rattling drew everyone’s attention. The handle of a door was shaking violently, as if someone was trying to get it open really hard and fast.

“What the heck?” Gabe muttered. “Excuse me.”

A terrible certainty clenched Lana’s heart – she knew, in her gut, what was causing that shaking. “Mr. Sullivan!” she cried as Gabe walked towards the door. “No! Don’t!”

He didn’t listen – and just as he reached the door, it flew inward. Earl Jenkins came through in a gray suit and brandished a gun. “On the floor!” he barked. “Don’t move!”

The terrified students and staff members obeyed. Earl held Gabe by the arm and put the gun to his head. “Take me to Level Three,” the big man said quietly.

Chloe stared at the sight in pure horror, her voice only a whisper: “Dad…”

“NOW!” Earl thundered.

* * * * *
Clark rushed down the corridors in a blur, looking around as he ran. To his eyes, the world was all but frozen. He switched on his x-ray vision at various places, trying to find any sign of a third level – but there was a fair amount of lead shielding in the area, and he didn’t dare stop in one place for too long. He ran past a gate behind which was a group of monitors—

—and slammed on the brakes. He ran back to the gate and stared at the monitors. One of them showed what had to be the control room – and the people who were kneeling on the floor as a tall man with a gun walked around.

Dear God – Earl had gotten desperate. Clark clenched his jaw, feeling multiple flavors of upset rush through him. Please let nobody be hurt – please let Lana not be hurt…

He looked to the next monitor, which showed an area outside. Several people were walking around, including what looked like members of a SWAT team. He peered closer, focusing on three particular figures. He blinked – one of them was Lex. He was standing by what must have been another set of monitors, and…

Clark blinked again. Mom! Dad! They were the two with Lex – he must have allowed them through the gates. His stomach clenched – he hated to think of how worried they had to be.

The third monitor showed something that excited him – an empty office with a bunch of filing cabinets. Maybe there was a clue in there. He sped away, and moments later, anyone who’d been passing by could’ve looked at that monitor and seen him run to the cabinets. He switched on his x-ray vision to speed things along – and inside one of the drawers, he found what he was looking for.

Back in the control room, Earl had shed his gray jacket and black tie, and the dark skin beneath his white button-down was sweaty. Gabe Sullivan sat in a chair, fearful but trying to stay calm. “I swear, I don’t know anything about Level Three,” he said.

Earl shoved the chair away and stalked around the desk. “You’re lying,” he said quietly.

“No he’s not!” Everyone looked towards the door, and Lana’s heart leaped for joy. It was Clark, walking towards them with two long, rolled-up papers. “I found these blueprints, Earl,” he said, holding them out. “If there is a Level Three, it’s not on them. I don’t think anyone here knows about it.”

Earl stared at him in disbelief, then walked cautiously forward. He grabbed the blueprints from Clark, who immediately backed away, and took them to a desk. He opened them – and for a long moment, he just stared at them. Then he whipped the blueprints up from the table and pointed with the gun. “Every night,” he said, walking past the students, “I go down to Level Two.” He slowly grew more agitated. “I follow the red pipes down that long hallway, I go to the door, I open it, and I take the elevator down to Level Three!” He thrust the blueprints at Clark, who grimaced and tried not to collapse. “Just like everybody else,” Earl whispered.

Clark nodded slightly. “I believe you, Earl,” he said quietly, genuine pain in his voice – and not just from the meteor rock. “But this isn’t helping anything. We’re not your enemy.”

Earl shook his head, his stolen ID card dangling loosely from a chain around his neck. “No…you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He scowled. “But nothing else I’ve done has gotten Lionel Luthor to listen to me.” He crumpled up the blueprints and tossed them away. “Now you get over there and you sit down!” he bellowed.

Clark didn’t hesitate to obey – anything to be away from that hidden green poison. He sat next to Lana, who hugged him tightly. Neither of them said a word – in fact, nobody said a word. Minutes dragged by, feeling like hours, and Earl kept pacing restlessly.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Gabe picked it up, feeling a spike of hope. He listened for a moment, then offered it to Earl. “Lionel Luthor.”

Earl stared at him, then walked forward, hissing, “Speaker.” Gabe pressed a button and put the receiver back down. “Mr. Luthor,” Earl said in a louder voice. “I’ve finally got your attention, haven’t I?”

“Earl,” said a ragged yet cultured male voice from the phone, “why don’t you come out? We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

A slimy, twisting feeling churned through Clark’s gut, making him grimace. At first, he wasn’t sure what it was – but then he realized that it felt familiar. He’d felt this before, when he’d had an instinctive dislike of somebody – namely, when he’d heard about Lana’s new boyfriend last summer. But even what he’d felt towards Whitney then didn’t compare to the intensity of what he felt towards this voice on the phone that belonged to Lex’s father. He couldn’t quite explain why – he just knew, with the same terrible certainty he’d had involving impending disasters, that he hated Lionel Luthor.

Evidently, Earl agreed with him. He shook his head, leaning on the desk. “Just tell me what you were using down on Level Three,” he said. “That’s all I want to know.”

Lionel Luthor didn’t indulge him. “You’re sick, Earl,” he said, his tone meant to be placating – but to Clark’s ears, it just sounded arrogant and condescending. “Let everyone go, we’ll get you help.”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say – at that very moment, the jitters struck again. Earl began to shake, turning into a violent blur, and grabbed onto a nearby valve in a desperate attempt to steady himself. Clark shot to his feet in sudden panic – if that thing came off, it was bound to cause a lot of damage. “Earl, don’t—”

Crack! The valve broke right off, and Earl’s out-of-control hands slammed into Clark, throwing him back through the air to hit the floor hard. “CLARK!” Lana cried, rushing to him; her cry was echoed by many other students. Even Whitney winced – that had to hurt.

Earl stared in horror at what he’d done – first at the stunned Clark, then at the broken valve. “Oh, no,” he whispered. A gauge showed the impending danger – the methane level in the room was rising, slowly but steadily. It wouldn’t be long before it got too high. “See what you made me do? See what you made me…” He went to the nearest camera. “See what you made me do?” he whispered to it. “Your methane gas-valve just broke. The whole place is gonna go up.”

Lana stared at him, then at Clark, who’d managed to sit up. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” he murmured. “But I don’t think we’re going to last much longer.”

She looked at the gauge – he was right. “We have to get out of here,” she whispered.

“No,” said an unwelcome voice – Whitney’s voice. He was crouched nearby, looking at Earl with obvious fear and anger. “We need to bring him down.”

Clark looked at him sharply but weakly. “No,” he insisted. “He’s sick, but he’s still strong.”

“He’s also nuts,” the jock king said darkly. “He’s not listening to the cops and that methane gas is gonna blow.”

“He’s not nuts,” Clark chided him. “I know him, Whitney. He’s desperate.”

Whitney scowled at him. “Fine, Kent – go ahead and be a coward, but I’m not putting my life in that man’s hands. I can take him down.”

“No, you can’t, Whitney,” Lana said, irritated with his arrogance – but it was no use. He was already moving away. She shook her head, disgusted. For God’s sake, this wasn’t some religious fanatic trying to murder a skyscraper’s worth of people – this was a hideously sick man who felt that everyone had betrayed him.

“Luthor, I trusted you,” Earl hissed. “You told me you were trying to help people.” Suddenly, he whirled around and saw Whitney coming up behind him. “Hey, what are you doing?!” he barked. He swung the gun at the jock, but Whitney knocked it to the floor. Enraged, Earl smacked him away and knocked him against a desk – Wham!

Whitney dropped to the floor, gasping in agony, and Earl dropped and rolled, grabbing the gun just as some students reached the downed jock. “Get back!” he snapped. They skittered away, and he went back to the camera. “It’s all your fault, Luthor.” He aimed the gun and fired.

Several students screamed in fear, and Earl rounded on them. “SHUT UP!” he bellowed.

Clark and Lana watched him starting to pace again, and they felt utterly helpless. Then static crackled from the phone, and a different voice spoke: “Don’t do this, Earl. You’re going to kill innocent kids.”

Clark looked at it in surprise, his heart leaping. Dad!

Earl looked at the phone as well, various emotions playing over his face. “You should’ve helped me before, Jonathan,” he said, leaning onto the desk. “I heard what you said outside. You weren’t gonna do anything.”

“And I was obviously wrong, Earl,” Jonathan said patiently. “I don’t know what’s really going on or if there is a Level Three or not – but I do know that you don’t abandon a friend, especially not when he’s got nowhere else to go.” A stern edge crept into his voice: “Now let me talk to my son.”

Earl backed away obediently, and Clark crawled forward. “Dad,” he said towards the phone. “I’m okay – more or less.”

“You sure, Clark?” Jonathan asked, his voice softer now. “I saw that blow.”

Clark grimaced. “Yeah – I won’t lie, it hurt like anything. But it’s fading.”

Earl looked at him with obvious guilt, shaking his head. “Good,” Jonathan said, his voice not quite steady. “How’s everyone else? Is Lana okay?”

Lana crawled forward to join Clark. “I’m fine, Mr. Kent,” she said. “Aside from Whitney, we’re not hurt.” She glanced back towards the jock, wincing. “I’m pretty sure he needs a doctor.”

“I bet,” Jonathan murmured grimly. He hesitated for a moment, as if listening to someone, then said, “Okay, sweetheart.”

A moment later, Martha’s voice came over the line: “Clark? Lana? Are you sure you’re alright?”

“We’re alright, Mom,” Clark said softly. He glanced at Earl, who looked down guiltily. “Well, most of us.”

Martha’s voice filled with upset despite his assurance. “Earl, you don’t have to do this. Please, just let them go. There’s no need to hurt anyone.”

Earl sniffed and wiped at his face with the empty hand. “I’m sorry, Martha,” he whispered. “I never meant to hurt anybody. I just…” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what’s wrong or right anymore. I just want this nightmare to be over.”

On that point, everyone agreed with him, Clark and Lana were sure. For a long moment, there was no reply. The broken valve hissed as the gas level continued to rise

Then yet another voice came over the line, this one male – and the words he spoke made everyone’s hearts leap. “Mr. Jenkins? Earl? This is Lex Luthor. I’m coming down to talk. Clark, Lana, everyone else – just hang tight. I’m coming to get you.”

* * * * *
Lex was true to his word. A minute later, he came walking slowly through the door, his hands up, a bulletproof vest over his purple shirt. Earl stared at him. “What kind of man sends his own kid to do his dirty work?” he said, disgusted.

“I’m not doing anyone’s dirty work, Earl,” Lex gently insisted. “This is my plant.” He looked towards Whitney, then to Clark and Lana. “How is he?”

“He needs a doctor,” Lana said grimly.

Lex wasn’t surprised. He came to a stop and asked, “What are we gonna do about these kids, Earl?”

Earl shook his head, feeling ashamed. “I didn’t want to hurt anybody,” he said quietly. “I tried talking to your father, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“I know the feeling,” Lex said just as quietly. He reached for a strap on his vest and undid it, then another, then the next, then the last. He let it drop to the floor and faced the big man calmly. “Earl, you say that everybody’s been lying to you. Well, I’m going to tell you the truth. My father doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anybody in this room.” The students and staff winced to hear that. “Because if we all die, his P.R. firm will spin it, his insurance company will pay out, and you, Earl, will go down as the bad guy.”

Earl shook his head again. “I’m not the bad guy,” he whispered. “I’m just trying to get better.”

“How are you going to get better by killing a bunch of kids?” Lex pointed out, never raising his voice. Earl stared at him without giving an answer, and Lex decided to play the only card he really had. He took a step forward and said, “If you let everybody go, I’ll take you to Level Three.”

Earl pointed the gun at him, finger on the trigger. “You stop lying,” he whispered.

“Let them go, and I’ll show you where it is,” Lex said quietly. “Earl, trust me. I’m a man of my word.”

They stared at each other in silence, aside from the steady, continuous hiss of the gas. Then Earl whispered, “Get out.” He looked towards the hostages. “Get out. Get out! Everybody, get out!”

Everyone rose to their feet, though Whitney needed some help to stay on his, and began hurrying towards the exit. Clark and Lana walked towards Lex, who’d loosened his tie, while Earl saw everyone else out. “Do you really know where it is?” Clark asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Lex said just as quietly. “It’s in his imagination. There is no Level Three, Clark. Now get out of here.”

Clark grimaced, not satisfied with that – and then he began grimacing for real. “Clark,” Earl said, having come back over. He gestured towards the door, and Clark and Lana began to hurry after the others. They reached the long hallway, where SWAT agents were waiting in their black fatigues and helmets. The men began escorting them towards the fire doors – and not a moment too soon, for a piercing alarm began ringing through the building and the doors began to drop.

Clark and Lana reached a ramp leading outside, with Pete and two SWAT agents nearby. Suddenly, Clark stopped in his tracks and whirled around, heading for the door. “CLARK!” Pete yelled. “NO!”

“CLARK!” Lana cried, panicking. She couldn’t let him go back alone!

“Don’t worry about me!” Clark called back. “Just run!” He rolled under the fire door and took off down the hallway at super-speed – he was going to find out the truth about Level Three once and for all.

A moment later, a small figure in a bright blue jacket rolled under the door – just seconds before it closed. Pete’s desperate cries were cut off, and Lana rose to her feet, brushing her jean-clad legs off. Clark was nowhere in sight, but that didn’t matter – she stood the best chance of helping by going right back the way she’d come. She began running towards the control room.

Meanwhile, Clark had found the hallway with the red pipes and followed them to the door that Earl had pointed out. It looked like a janitor’s closet inside, though it had been ransacked. He climbed over a desk and reached the back wall, a smooth plane of white concrete blocks…but he had to know if that was the whole truth. He focused on it.

His x-ray vision came to life, peeling away the wall – and right behind it stood the door to an elevator. His eyes widened. Everything Earl said had been true – not only was there a Level Three, but its existence had been covered up!

His hands clenched into fists as anger surged through him, building more rapidly than steam. No more. Lionel Luthor was not going to get away with this. Earl was not going to die, and neither was Lex. With a yell of rage, he threw a punch at the wall, smashing right through it – then another, and another.

He was going to expose the truth if it was the last thing he did!

* * * * *
“We’re running out of time,” Earl muttered – the gauge was well into the red. “Alright, I’ve done my part. Now it’s time for you to do yours.”

Lex was kneeling on the floor. “Earl, there is no Level Three,” he said without turning around. “It’s all in your head.”

Big mistake. Whack! Earl slammed him in the back of the head with the gun, knocking him flat, then grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. “I should’ve never trusted you,” he spat. “You Luthors are all the same!”

“Stop!” Lana appeared through the wide doorway, holding her hands out. “Don’t do this! Just put the gun down.”

Lex stared in horror. “Lana?! Get out of here!”

“I can’t,” she said calmly. “The fire doors are down. We’re all stuck in here.”

“Damn it!” Lex spat, hanging his head. Those doors wouldn’t go back up until the gas levels went down. Damn you, Dad!

Earl blinked, sensing a meaning in Lana’s words that Lex had missed. “All?”

At that moment, a youthful baritone voice came over the intercom: “Earl, I found Level Three! They built a wall in front of the elevator, but it’s still here.”

Earl dragged Lex with him and pushed the button. “Stop playing with me!” he snapped.

“Not you too, Clark!” Lex cried. “Get Lana and run! Just go!”

Earl shoved him away in frustration. “Lana?” Clark echoed, confused. Then it dawned on him. “NO! Lana, I told you to run!”

Lana gestured with her hands, and Earl sighed and pushed the button again. “I’m sorry, Clark,” she said, genuinely contrite. “But I couldn’t leave you on your own in here. I had to help.” She looked to Earl. “Please – there’s no need for the gun. Just put it down and let’s go find Level Three.”

Earl released the button and stared at her, allowing Clark to speak again. “Listen to us, Earl,” he urged. “Put the gun down and come back to the door. I swear to you, it’s here.”

For a moment, Earl said nothing – he just looked back and forth between the intercom and the girl. Then he scowled and threw the gun away, then grabbed Lex again. “Come on, Luthor. I want you to see the truth.” They began walking out to the hallway, Lana staying close behind.

A second later, the door Earl had first come through opened, and Clark sped over to the broken valve. The gauge was almost off the scale. He gritted his teeth and grabbed the valve, turning it counterclockwise…and, sure enough, the gas began going down. He turned it as far as he dared, then backed away and hurried after the others, letting the gas drop rapidly.

It didn’t take Earl, Lex and Lana long to reach the janitor’s closet. Clark had smashed a big hole in the back wall, exposing the elevator. Inside it lay a sledgehammer, and Lana smiled knowingly. Earl just glared at it and hissed, “Son of a b*tch! How do you explain that?!”

Lex stared at it, stunned. “I can’t,” he murmured.

“I told you, Earl,” Clark said, coming up behind them. “Nobody here knew.”

Lana grabbed him in a hug, whispering apologies into his chest. He stroked her gently, whispering reassurances to her, and followed Earl and Lex without getting too close. They stepped through the hole and reached the elevator. Earl opened it and led them inside – luckily, it was big enough that Clark and Lana could lean against the opposite wall. They looked at the control panel – it showed only two floor buttons.

“Two buttons,” Lex said. “Two levels. I’m sorry, okay?”

Earl looked at the ceiling, then smirked and reached for the area beneath the second button – and a third button lit up. The door closed and the elevator began to go down.

Level Three, here we come, Clark and Lana thought, holding each other close. Lex just stared at the panel in the shock of realization, and Earl smirked in triumph. The elevator stopped after a few moments and opened into pitch-blackness. Earl shoved Lex inside and reached for the wall beside the elevator, finding the switch he knew to be there. Lights began to come up, one by one, on the floor far below, illuminating an enormous area. A red metal bridge started at the catwalk just past the elevator and spanned the room. Below lay only a few blue barrels – otherwise, the place was empty.

“I told you it was here,” Earl muttered, beginning to walk out on the bridge. “Huh?” He glanced back at Lex, who followed him mutely, looking around in shock. Clark and Lana stayed on the catwalk by the elevator, taking in the enormous room. “Where is it?” Earl muttered, stopping in the middle of the bridge. “Where is it? There used to be a – there was a field of corn, with sprayers all over it! And every night, they’d spray this green mist on it.” He stared down at it, looking crushed. “What have you done with it?” he whispered. Then he glared at Lex and roared, “What have you done with it?!”

“I don’t know,” Lex said, finally regaining his voice. “They lied to me too, Earl. I had no idea this was here.”

Earl slumped against the railing, the life going out of him. Clark exchanged a sad look with Lana, then spoke up: “Earl, let’s go back upstairs and talk about this.”

“It’s all gone, Clark,” Earl said weakly. “How am I gonna get better if I don’t know what poisoned me?”

“Because,” Lana said, her soft voice carrying easily through the room, “there’s only one thing we can think of that would cause those seizures and give off a green mist. You’re not the only person to suffer from it, Mr. Jenkins. There’s still a chance you can get better.”

Lex looked at them pleadingly. “I didn’t know about this place, guys. You’ve got to believe me.”

Clark and Lana nodded. “We believe you, Lex,” they said in unison.

“No!” Earl snapped. “He’s lying! He’s just like his father!”

“No he’s not!” Clark snapped, losing his patience for a moment – but he stopped and stared. Earl was shaking all over again – and this time, the bridge was shaking with him! Lex looked at it fearfully—

—and then the inevitable happened. The bolts popped out of their places like bullets from a gun, and the section of the bridge holding Earl and Lex turned over! They grabbed onto the railing and hung on for dear life. “Clark!” Lex screamed – but Clark was already running towards them, with Lana keeping close behind.

They stopped in their tracks as the bridge bent further down, held only by its thin suspension cables – and the railing Earl was holding came right off! He grabbed onto the edge and clung on, and Lex cried out as he lost his grip on his own railing – only to grab onto Earl’s legs at the last moment. “No!” he gasped, and made the mistake of looking down. “Oh, God!”

Earl held the bridge as best he could, but he could already feel his grip weakening. He looked up and saw Clark climbing out onto the overturned section of the bridge, grasping the upper railing. The farm boy bent down and grabbed Earl’s arm—

—and green fire shot up his blood vessels, vanishing under his red plaid sleeve. He gritted his teeth, trying not to scream from the agony, but it was a fool’s hope – he couldn’t quite pull them up—

A slender hand reached down and grabbed Earl’s arm too. Lana braced herself on the railing next to Clark, praying that her petite frame wouldn’t tip the balance, and strained to help pull Earl and Lex up. Clark looked at her for only a moment, then pulled harder, gasping for breath—

—and Earl began to rise. They pulled harder still, and he reached out his other hand, grabbing the railing as Lex grabbed the edge of the bridge. Clark released his hold and gasped, “Get to the elevator!”

Lana began climbing up with an athlete’s agility and speed, checking behind her to make sure Earl was keeping up. No longer poisoned, Clark reached down and grabbed Lex, pulling him up easily. Lex grasped the bridge, beginning to breathe more easily, and he and Clark climbed up it as if it were a ladder. They reached the straight section and looked at Earl, who stood near the elevator that Lana had already reached, looking at them with a small smile of relief…

…a smile that vanished as he began to shake again, rattling the bridge. Clark and Lex charged forward, and Lana got out of the way just before they pushed Earl into the elevator. Behind them, the whole bridge came loose and plunged to the ground, crushing the barrels and throwing up a massive cloud of dust.

For a long moment, the four just stared at what had almost been their fate. Then Lex looked at Clark and Lana. “Is it just me,” he said, a bit strained from the ordeal, “or do you two have a knack for saving lives?”

Clark smiled shyly and chuckled, and Lana leaned into him with her own wide smile. There were worse things to have, really.

* * * * *
The sun had already set, leaving the sky black – but as far as Jonathan and Martha were concerned, it was the brightest day ever, for Clark and Lana were running towards them. The Kents gathered them into a big hug. “I have never been so happy to see you in my life!” Martha laughed, kissing them both.

Behind them, Earl was being wheeled into an ambulance – Lex was determined that he get the best possible care. In the meantime, he needed to settle a score with the lying bastard who’d caused all this. Clark saw him approaching a man of the same height and build, but clearly twenty-some years older and sporting a ridiculously full mane of dark brown hair – not to mention a mustache and goatee sprinkled with silver. That, no doubt, was Lionel Luthor – Clark’s twisting gut was certain of it.

Lex didn’t mince words – he was in no mood for that. “You lied to me,” he spat.

Lionel was unimpressed. “No,” he said, “no I didn’t. I said Level Three wasn’t on any plans, and it wasn’t.”

“Don’t even try it,” Lex cut him off. “You said there was no Level Three period. You lied to everyone, Dad – to me, to the people at the plant, to Earl Jenkins. An entire class of students almost got killed because of you.”

Lionel snorted indelicately. “No, son – you almost got them killed. It was your plant and your call, remember?”

“Bullsh*t!”

They both jolted and turned to see Clark storming towards them, his expression borderline murderous. He stopped just inches shy of them and glared at Lionel. “It wasn’t Lex who got Earl sick and refused to take responsibility for it. It wasn’t Lex who covered up the existence of Level Three. And it wasn’t Lex who almost got my friends and classmates killed.” His voice lowered, but was no less heated. “It was you, Mr. Luthor. You’re the one at fault here.”

Lionel stared at the young man in shock for a long moment. Then he turned to Lex, giving the impression of dismissing Clark from reality. “Who is this foolish boy?” he demanded.

“This ‘foolish boy’,” said a stern male voice, “is our son. And he’s absolutely right.”

Lionel turned to see Jonathan and Martha Kent approaching them. The former put a hand on his son’s shoulder in support, while the latter fixed cold blue eyes on Lionel. “Don’t think for a moment that you can divert the blame,” she said, steel in her level voice. “All of this comes back to you. You almost got everyone in that plant killed – and what’s more, you don’t care. I saw the look in your eyes when I reminded you that my son was in there – you knew yours was in there too.”

“And you were willing to throw my life away if it meant saving your hide,” Lex continued, his gray eyes narrowed. “Too bad for you that everyone survived, huh?”

“But we wouldn’t have if it weren’t for Clark,” said a young female voice. Lionel looked down to see Lana at Clark’s side, meeting his eyes without flinching. “He stands against everything that people like you stand for – and we stand with him.”

Lionel smiled slightly in recognition. “Why, it’s little Lana Lang,” he said, his ragged voice eerily silky. “My, how you’ve grown.”

She tried not to shiver at the look in his eyes, but Clark felt it anyway and carefully tightened his grip on her. Bolstered by that, she regained her nerve and retorted, “No thanks to your ilk, Mr. Luthor. My aunt might think you’re some kind of new-age god, but I know the truth – and before you know it, so will everyone else.”

“Sooner than you might think,” Lex remarked, looking behind them. Lionel looked too, and comprehended immediately. Ah – the vultures are coming. Well, I’ll soon give them something to pick at.

But as the reporters approached, Lex stepped forward to meet them – Lana and the Kents blocked Lionel from beating him to it. “Mr. Luthor,” one of them said, “what can you tell us about Level Three?”

“A good question – and to be honest, ladies and gentlemen,” Lex said, “I think you’d be better off asking the man who tried to erase its existence. When I came here, I didn’t have a clue that there was a third level to the plant, a secret area where likely illegal fertilizer experiments were conducted using extremely dangerous and untested substances. But Earl Jenkins knew. His only crime was knowing too much and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because of an explosion six months ago, he was flooded with a terrible poison – and ever since, his body’s been tearing itself apart trying to get it out. But did he get any help?”

He turned and glared at his father, who kept trying to get around the blockade – to no avail. “No!” Lex declared, turning back to the reporters. “Because my own father would rather bury the truth and pretend that nothing untoward was happening! He would rather let a bunch of students who never had anything to with Level Three pay for his crimes with their lives!” His voice calmed. “But I know the truth – I saw what was left of Level Three with my own eyes. Mr. Jenkins is not some crazed terrorist out to cause death and destruction – he’s an honest man who’s become extremely sick and has tried everything to find a cure. That’s why I’ve pledged to find him the best medical care possible. He was a LuthorCorp employee – and I don’t know about my father, but at my branch of LuthorCorp, we always put family first.”

He glanced back at the Kents, smiling, then turned to the reporters one last time. “So I ask you, ladies and gentlemen – do you really want such things to stay hidden? Do you want decent men and innocent kids to suffer for the sins of greedy, power-hungry men? Or do you want justice to be served? I leave it to you.” He gestured towards Lionel. “He’s all yours.”

Lana and the Kents moved out of the way, letting the reporters descend on Lionel, and walked towards Lex. All four of them were smiling at him, proud and impressed. He smiled back and began walking off with them, leaving his father to try and spin his way out of trouble. Lionel stared after them, and though his expression gave nothing away, there was only the darkest, purest malice in his twisted mind. This would not stand.

“Lana!”

Lana jolted and looked – they’d almost reached the open gate, and there was Nell coming towards them. “Lana! Thank God you’re alright!”

Clark grimaced as Nell grabbed her niece in a very awkward-looking hug – Lana didn’t even pretend to return it. “I was so worried about you,” Nell simpered.

Oh, I’m sure you were, Lex thought, disgusted. His father wasn’t the only hypocrite around. Chances were that Nell hadn’t even heard about the incident until just minutes ago, when she’d come back from whatever the hell she was really doing in Metropolis.

“Come on, sweetie,” Nell said, oblivious to the looks she was getting. “You don’t belong here. Let’s go home.”

Revulsion swept through Lana – after all that had happened, there was no way she was letting this sorry excuse for a guardian tear her away from her real family. She wrenched herself free and slipped back into Clark’s arms. “I am going home, Nell,” she said coldly. “But that’s not with you, and it never will be again.”

Nell stared at her, uncomprehending, then glared at the Kents. “What lies have you been telling her?!” she demanded.

“Speak for yourself, Nell,” Lex cut her off smoothly. “You know, you and my father have a great deal in common – you’re both masters at casting blame away and deceiving people. But he isn’t getting away with it this time, and neither are you.”

Nell looked like she was about to explode – but Martha didn’t let her speak. “Save it, Nell,” she said bluntly. “You’re no parent. You should be ashamed of yourself – but I suppose that’s beyond you, after years of trying to mold Lana into something she’s not.”

“Unfortunately for you,” Clark said quietly, “she has people who actually love her. I should know.”

Lana smiled inwardly at his words, but outwardly showed only a glare. “Leave me alone, Nell,” she said fiercely. “Leave the Kents alone. You’ve lost all my trust – and I don’t see you ever earning it back.”

With that, the quintet walked out to relax and recover from the long day, leaving a shocked and outraged woman behind. She couldn’t believe this was happening…but no matter how much she told herself it wasn’t, reality wasn’t going to change for her.

For Clark and Lana, on the other hand, it was changing every day. Ever since that fateful Tuesday in September, their actions had been changing the very fabric of the universe, affecting all of time and space. It had been small changes at first, but as they proceeded along their intertwined paths, it was changing even more. They didn’t know it yet, nor would they truly know for a long time…but they would be the architects of a new era, the guiding light to a brave new world…a world that, from the perspective of some, was already taking shape.

High, high, high above Smallville, far beyond the clouds and the empty air, miles away from the end of Earth’s atmosphere, somewhere between it and the moon, a light flared into being. It was small and twinkled like a star, pure white with just a tinge of color. It flared between bright and dim, pulsing in space…and then, in seconds, it was gone.

But as briefly as it had lived, that little light would prove to have a huge impact on things to come…as Clark and Lana would discover, all in due time.

~ * ~

[Up next comes a special Christmas installment, “Yuletide”. Stay tuned.]

[Kirk]

Thank you so much for the latest update. So, it seems that Lana will be living with the Kents now. I am almost bursting at the seams with excitement to see how she may adjust to living in the Kent household. Lex seems to be gradually stepping back from the abyss that he was always fated to fall into. Still, I am still not one hundred percent convinced that Lex can be saved. It always seemed to me on Smallville that Lex's descent toward the dark side was not only over Clark's secret. It also dealt with his conviction that the only way humanity could be saved from ultimate destruction was for him to take ultimate control over Earth. In Lex's mind, that involved going to the ultimate extremes to ensure that humanity was never threatened. Lionel Luthor on the other end seemed to be purely interested in power first and foremost. And as for Nell, I think she make take matters to court before this over. The light at the end of this story also has me puzzled as well. Please, update soon so we can find out where all this is leading.