Title: Repercussions
Rating: T/PG-13 (for violence, peril and character angst/drama)
Summery: Clark awakes in a world where everything has changed. The world knows his secret and Lex has turned his life into a project. So sure this is a Phantom at work again, Clark's mind is sent into chaos when he discovers it may be real.
Time-Frame: Season 6: After "Labyrinth"
Pairings: This story doesn't lean towards a certain ship, really. There are aspects of several ships, and I mostly tried to stay close to cannon.
Disclaimer: Of course, I do not own any of the characters/places/names in Smallville. Dang there went my plan for independent wealth.
Feedback: I love receiving feedback! From "nice fic more soon yo" to "Astounding performance, thou intrepid authoress!" and all that comes in between. ;) Thanks in advance!
He heard the front door of the Talon shut and scrambled to his feet, sending his chair clattering loudly to the tile floor. "Lana."
Lana was standing uncertainly in the doorway, her fingers scrambling in front of her with nervous tension. "I wasn't sure I should come."
"You said you needed to talk," he reminded her. "So what's wrong?"
"Not here. Can…is Lois home?"
"Her and Oliver are catching a movie tonight. You…want to go upstairs?" She nodded.
They climbed the steps to the upper apartment in silence, and Lana slipped past Clark inside. He stood ofr a moment by the door, looking around for…someone, then followed her. The moment the door shut, Lana ran for him, crashing into his chest with her whole body. He stumbled back a step. "Lana!"
"Clark…!" she cried, clinging to the sleeves of his shirt and he hurried to hold her, utterly confused.
"Lana what-"
"I'm so scared, I don't…I don't know what's going on or how I got here or…"
"Shh…" Clark insisted quietly, rubbing her shoulders. "What are you so afraid of?"
"I don't know," she told him, her breath trembling. "I don't it's- it's like I'm sinking down a black hole and I don't know how I got here." She leaned away from him suddenly, eyes bright with tears. "Clark you have to help, you- you've got to get me away-"
The door flew open suddenly, flooding the room with gray light. Lana's hair whipped into her face and she screamed as a dark figure appeared before them. Clark stood in front of her, facing the stranger. "Stay away!"
The silhouette paused, and then stepped into the dull light, turning suddenly into a person, dressed in a sharp, black suit. He was holding a bouquet of dried roses in his right hand and stretching out the empty left towards Lana. "Come on," he said quietly, "it's time to go."
"She's not going anywhere with you, Lex," Clark spat at him, taking a menacing step forward, but Lex just laughed good-naturedly.
"C'mon Lana," he repeated with a smile, his fingers twitching back in a beckon. "Clark's a bit stressed right now, let's leave him be."
Clark felt something like a warm breeze brush his shoulder and he turned to see Lana stepping out from behind him, walking as though hypnotized towards Lex. Tears were still slipping down her cheeks. "Lana don't-" he began, putting out an arm to stop her, and Lana jumped at his voice and ran for Lex like a frightened kitten. Lex collected her into his arms.
"It's okay," he said soothingly. "Let's go home."
"Lana-"
"She can't hear you Clark," Lex told him, the joviality replaced with an arctic stare. "She doesn't want to anymore."
"Yes she can!"
Lex ignored him and steered Lana towards the door. "See you around, Clark. Lana honey, don't you want to say goodbye?" Lana, who still clung shakily onto Lex's silk shirtfront, vigorously shook her head and allowed herself to be led out the apartment door.
Clark ran through the bright, gray light and to the top of the stairs, but somehow Lex and Lana were already crossing the Talon, headed for the front door. "Lana this is the black hole! He's pulling you in, you have to let go of him!"
Lana's knees buckled as they reached the door and Lex calmly gathered her up in his arms, carrying her the rest of the way. As he did so, she looked wearily over his shoulder at Clark. "You can't save me anymore," she whispered.
"Lana-"
"No, Clark…no."
"LANA!"
Clark sat up, eyes stinging with either sweat or tears. He ran a shaky hand across his forehead, blinking hard. He felt cold. Down the hall, a light came on, and he threw himself back onto his bed, shutting his eyes and trying to steady his breath. A few moments later, he heard Martha come to his door.
"Clark?" she whispered into the silence. "Sweetheart, you awake?"
Clark kept as still as he could, though his arms insisted on trembling. Martha walked into the room and stood over him for a few moments, which felt like a half-hour. Finally she bent down, kissed him gently on the head and he soon heard her footsteps disappearing down the hall once more.
Clark's eyes sprang open and he stared at his back wall, mind still reeling from the vivid nightmare. The last thing his mom needed after everything that had happened lately was to worry about him. Martha seldom required such protection, but Clark was too old for her to be his shoulder all the time. It was his turn now.
Pushing sweaty hair off his forehead, Clark clambered out of bed and went quietly downstairs to the kitchen. The silence rang deafeningly around him, broken only when he decided to open the fridge and get a glass of orange juice. Sitting at the dining room table, cold glass between his warm palms, he could not help wondering if the dreams were ever going to go away. After Jonathan died, he had had a reoccurring dream that distressed him as well, but it had eventually subsided. These newest nightmares refused to let go, filling his nights with pain, darkness and Lana's tears. All he could see when he fell asleep, it seemed, were her great, terrified eyes and the looming figure of Lex Luthor coming to drag her away.
Part of him wanted to believe what he saw. He wanted badly to think that Lana was miserable, longing for him alone. That Lex had somehow tricked her into loving him and that, despite what she said, she desired to be saved from the marriage. However, he supposed that was not only bigheaded of him but somewhat insulting to Lana. Yes, she'd been hurt, but he would like to think she was too smart to be conned into matrimony.
He took a drink of orange juice and noticed that the sun was beginning to tiptoe over the trees, pouring rosy light down on the cow fields. He smiled tiredly to himself. Almost dawn. But it was a Saturday, and he probably wouldn't see anyone until at least eight. Suddenly he felt very closed-off and lonely. Was his life always going to feel like this; sequestered from the 'normal world'? It just wasn't…fair. He could already hear his father's advice on that one.
"Life's never really fair, Clark. But you can't let that get in the way of doing what you know beyond a doubt is right."
Exactly a year ago today, Jonathan Kent had a heart attack and died in his family's arms. Since then, Clark had been carrying on without him, as life got steadily more and more difficult.
He took another long drink of orange juice, trying to wake himself up. The dream was playing with his mind. Lana was playing with his mind. She had often blamed him of doing the same, and perhaps he had, but someday he'd really like to tell her that such bewilderment was mutual between them.
The bottom line was, it was the anniversary of his father's death and it just seemed to bring to mind how rough his life had become. He needed a break, a light at the end of this tunnel. He needed…relief.
Suddenly "U Can't Touch This" started playing, causing him to jump. He grabbed his jacket from the chair beside him, digging around in the pockets until he found his cell phone. Clark flipped it open without checking the name. "Hello?"
- - - - -
His eyes slid opened very, very slowly. A white light shone down on his face and its beams seemed to pierce straight through his retinas to the back of his head. He blinked, trying to free himself of the pain, but it stuck like Velcro to the edges of his awareness.
"Clark?"
He stirred, trying to roll onto his side, but couldn't seem to work up the energy. Why was he so exhausted? His wrists felt as though someone had tied them down, but he felt no rope or chain rubbing against his skin.
"C'mon Clark. Waky-waky, it's breakfast time."
The sound of metal scraping against metal resonated off the walls. He sat groggily up, head still throbbing, and squinted at the man who approached him. He wore a gray jumpsuit and was carrying a tray of food (oatmeal, orange juice and a small Dixie cup that appeared to be empty). He set the tray down, but Clark ignored it, his eyes searching the room around him. Four dark walls surrounded the clean-looking cot he was sitting on, and over his head stretched several rows of florescent light rods set in the ceiling behind steel grates. It looked like a closet that had been converted into an interrogation room.
He took a deep breath, still trying to collect his thoughts. "Where uh…what happened?"
The man in the gray jumpsuit looked up from the tray he was setting down on the cot. "It's okay man, you're always out of it early in the morning."
"What time is it?"
"About seven AM. Here." He held out the glass of orange juice, which Clark took, but did not drink.
"Where am I?"
The man looked uneasy. "Are uh…you regressing again?" Clark just stared back, puzzled. "What's the last thing you remember?"
Clark struggled with his aching mind, searching for his last memory. "I was stuck in- no. No, I was sitting in the kitchen with a glass of orange juice." He fingered the cup in his hand. "Yeah. And my phone rang." His eyes darted upward. "Did- did something happen, am I in the hospital?" He glanced around and realized if this was a hospital, it was the strangest one he'd ever seen and certainly wasn't Smallville Medical Center. Moreover, he wasn't in a robe but rather a white, tunic-like ensemble. It reminded him of the clothes he and Pete had worn during their brief flirtation with karate in third grade.
"In the kitchen." The man repeated. "Like…at your home?"
"Yeah." Now confusion appeared on the man's face and Clark added, "Look- where's my mom? She might have a better idea-"
"Okay, you know what?" He stood up, suddenly flustered. "How about we just finish breakfast, we'll get a scan done downstairs later, okay? Fix ya right up."
"But why can't I-"
"Here you go," the man interrupted, handing him the Dixie cup. Clark glanced in it and saw that it wasn't empty, but had three brightly colored pills inside.
"What're these for?"
"Just take them, Clark." Clark stared blankly at him for a moment, and then set the pills resolutely back onto the tray. "Clark," he said condescendingly, stooping down as though addressing a child. "I have to make sure you take these."
"No way," Clark snapped, setting the orange juice down as well. "I'm not swallowing anything till you tell me what's going on."
"Just take the pills, please."
Clark watched him carefully through suspicious eyes. With a surge of panic, something occurred to him. "Dr. Hudson. Where's Dr. Hudson?"
"Doctor who?"
Clark nodded as though catching on. "He's back. I thought that man, the one with the red eyes, had gotten rid of him. But he came back somehow, didn't he?"
The man looked alarmed. "Clark-"
"What does he want me to do this time, huh? Believe I've lost my mind again, maybe let you force those pills down my throat?"
"Clark you need to calm down, please."
Clark stood up, sending the tray crashing to the floor. Instantly, the room began to tilt around him. He groped the air for stability, but his head continued to spin. Then he realized his fingers felt oddly heavy and his wrists ached. He looked down at his hands and saw thin, silver bracelets decorating each wrist. Pressed into both of them were three, minuscule green gems, sparkling brightly the moment his eyes fell on them. Kryptonite.
"What's going on…" Clark shook his head, fear rising like a tide in his chest. He tried to pry the bracelets off but they were stronger than he was, and he whirled on the man instead, grabbing him by the shirtfront. "Where am I?! What do you want?!"
The man shook in his grasp like a wet fish but had the presence of mind to reach for the radio on his shoulder. "This is Trently! Clark's having a fit, send rein-"
Without thinking, Clark threw him as hard as he could against the wall. Trently struck the wall hard enough to dent it and fell to the floor, unconscious. Clark ran to him, rummaging over his belt and found a card-key, which he then slid through the slot in the door, wrenching it open. He found himself in a long, dimly lit hallway with cream walls and gray carpet. He tried to focus each direction, but his x-ray vision would not cooperate, so he picked the left at random.
His breath pounded in his ears with the effort of running at normal speed. The bracelets seemed to be hampering some of his abilities and completely neutralizing others. He spun around two corners, down two hallways, then to went to the left and down yet another hallway. At last he saw a door up ahead, but to his horror, reached it only to discover he'd come full circle. He stopped in the doorway of his cell, saw Trently was still out cold, and tried to calm down a little. After letting the silence scream in his ears for several long minutes, he took off running once more.
This time he took a right on the third hallway, bare feet pounding eerily off the carpeted floor. "Where are you going, Clark…" he whispered to himself as he darted down a new set of identical hallways.
Five minutes later, however, the cell door loomed up ahead once more, and this time there were four men in uniform standing in the doorway. Clark spun around to go the other direction and found two men running up behind him. How had he not heard them?
He came to a stop, facing the strangers. "Where am I? Where's Dr. Hudson?" When it was clear they had no intention of slowing down and answering him, Clark's survival instinct kicked in and he ran at them. He knocked the two men behind him down, turned and ran at the other four. The fight didn't last long. He had one of them by the shoulders, about to hurl him down the carpeted hallway, when he felt himself suddenly weakening. His limbs shook violently, the ceiling and floor warped in his vision. He knew this burning, nauseating sensation well. "No…no wait-!" Unbidden, his legs gave way and he crumpled to the floor.
"Easy Clark."
"No- no…"
Gentle hands rolled him onto his back and he found himself looking up at one of the uniformed men, whose glove-covered hand was brandishing a glowing green rock. "Calm down, Clark," he said soothingly. "It's alright. You're going to be fine."
"Please just let…let me go…" Clark whispered feebly as the crowd of strangers swarmed around him, strapping his wrists and ankles together, but the man above him wasn't really listening.
"Don't worry about it, Clark," he said distractedly, watching his people work. "Yeah- bring down one of the stretchers, we'll carry him up to Lab 6."
He set the lump of Kryptonite onto Clark's chest and went to talk to someone. A few minutes past, Clark's body began to convulse and then finally, he blacked out.
- - - - -