Full Summary: Clark Kent goes against Zod, only to find Earth more helpless than ever when Braniac's final plan goes into motion. The blacked out Earth lies vulnerable to an unknown threat, and its only chance for survival may lie in the tenuous bond between former friends.

Caught in the violent mob, Chloe Sullivan must save her own life at the cost of an old flame. Separated from Clark, caught in an outpost hospital and still dealing with the fallout of her actions, she meets Davis Bloome and finds respite with the one person who was created to destroy Earth and her best friend.
(Vessel/Zod AU)


Chloe had expected her first meeting with Clark after the kiss-at-the end-of the world to go differently. She didn't know what she'd counted on: rushing forward and hugging him in relief, his confusion as she let go, Jimmy looking on cheerily as the awkwardness of the moment sunk in. Something that meant 'see look I'm worth something. Someone wants me.'
Clark would have quizzed Jimmy and shaken his hand a little harder than he should've, or gotten that little jealous look in his face that he always reserved for Lana and…well, frankly, everyone.

But nothing happened like that, not easy, not for her. She sat outside a browned out hospital room with the sounds of chaos around her. Jimmy in that hospital bed. No computer, no calculations, no possible way she could be of help.
Under the sickness in her stomach, Chloe thought that at least there was still Clark.

From the first moment Clark stumbled in through those doors, face grimy, looking lost -a familiar, well-worn piece of Chloe's heart squeezed away inside her. Nothing came out of her throat.

Clark's 'super' vision took on the details where she sat hunched but missed her still bloody hands against the redness of the canvas seat

You see on Dark Thursday, Chloe Sullivan killed James Olsen. It was a split second decision. There was one shot. One perfectly aimed shot.


It started with the mob.
"Ron, get us out of here!" Lionel commanded, just like he did everything else. Someone had to tell him things weren't so easily done in the apocalypse, Chloe thought. The next moment she couldn't even see his face.

Broken glass scraped the cloth off Chloe's elbows. They were hauling her bodily out the window.

"Mr. Luthor. No!" She didn't hear him respond, or maybe she couldn't hear. Lionel wasn't going to save her, Jor El's vessel or not. Had she really expected his saint-mentor-to-Clark act to last when his life was at risk? Maybe Lex had bthe right idea under those lies of his.

She had to struggle against the hands, so many hands. We're coming to get you. The sounds of the crowd or her own yells didn't quite drown out his voice. That's when they flipped the car over.

Chloe couldn't see the rest, pinned in the crush of suffocating bodies. She couldn't move one of her hands and there were at least four of them.

For one hopeless moment Chloe thought of a yellow headline: Daily Planet Reporter torn apart by Possessed Mob. Maybe they weren't Braniac-controlled but they attacked aimlessly. They kept pulling, yanking, shoving; pulling her and as if they wanted to tear her apart.

Hands gripped her hair- forcing her head back, restricting her air supply. Chloe muffled a scream as her shoulder popped out of joint. The buildings loomed, blacker than the night sky.

Her eyes watered and a glint of gold danced across her vision. The Daily Planet was just a few buildings down, completely blacked out. It was not the house on the hill anymore but it gave her something to focus on long enough to drop and roll.

Once she hit the ground, they seemed to forget about her long enough to get a new toy. One of them, a hooded man with a clean face (another businessman?), advanced over her spot on the ground. That was the one that had grabbed her wrists. He looked like a predator.
Did he know her?

Chloe's right shoulder wouldn't let her hold a gun steady, even if she had it. Her left, though…. She backed up, groping for something to protect herself with. If only they'd just forgotten about her…

Chloe swung with all the strength in her left hand and he fell, the razor sharp fender in his shoulder trickling rusty blood. His small eyes narrowed and he threw himself toward her. She ducked her shoulder into the wall and let him blunder into it, pulled a thick firearm from his belt. His curses drew all eyes to her, as if all her attackers were awaking from a zombie-like trance. Or going back into one.

She wasn't going to take the chance. Chloe ran past the asphalt where he'd fallen and hoped the mob's vision was not any better than hers in the dark.

Inside, she turned the bolts on the first three doors in front of her office. She didn't hear glass breaking…yet… She was armed now, but the gun had only so many bullets.
Chloe dived under the desk. Apparently she was not the first person with that idea. Jerking her hand up, she made out the petite figure of Lana.

Before she could drop the gun, Lana shied away from her, ramming against the corner of the desk. She screamed then because she was already hurt.
Chloe had been pretty sure part of her scalp had been torn out, out there. She'd fared better than Lana had. Lana's hand was impaled clean through, oozing blood. She looked like she was in shock from the blood loss already.

Chloe's white shirt was probably unsanitary and she was no paramedic but…"You've got to wrap it up." She tore the decorative frills off her blouse, and for once didn't think of modesty.

"There were no bandages..." Lana whispered.

"Did the crowd do that to you?"

"Zod did this to me."

"Did you say Zod? Zod inside Lex?"

"You knew that too." Lana blinked up at her accusingly.

"Zod?"

"He just vanished; he needed to get something from the Pentagon."

The second part of the plan. The first, disabling the infrastructure… the second… a weapon of some kind…maybe something nuclear. She had to warn Clark.

"What was it?" Chloe blurted out, loudly enough that she could barely hear the thump of the glass.

"I didn't wait there to find out. I'm not you, Chloe. I couldn't do anything to him. He wanted...heirs... a world he could remodel. There is nothing of Lex in there anymore."

"Were you coming to ask Clark to stop him?"

"Clark doesn't trust me and I can't trust him either. Look out there Chloe. This is the closest to safe… I have."

Chloe could hear the pounding now. The mob was trying to get in. And succeeding, apparently. If they found the destroyed part of the wall….

Lana shook her head for her to keep quiet, holding a bloody finger over her lips. Not that.

"I knew he was going to find me, the first thing. He's here. I'm so sorry…."

Chloe had never counted herself as a squeamish person, but she started to want to be. There was a gap in the skin, right between the bones. The kind of –being---who could choose to do that was worth running from.
It made logical sense. If Clark could go from Smallville to Metropolis in a minute… this Zod guy….

The second door gave and about that time there was a sharp rush in Chloe's ears; the softer sound of just one pair of footfalls. Slow footfalls.
He'd come to collect.

Lana didn't say anything but her eyes were telling Chloe that she would have sprayed all the bullets out wildly. She squeezed her eyes shut and hid them under her curtain of hair.
Chloe was the one with the gun.

One minute Chloe's pulse was pounding in her ears, a minute tremor going through the door. Zod would tear it right off.

She would aim right at the throat, a perfect headshot, harder to miss there. She had only time for one bullet with Zod. If she killed his vessel… maybe his job would be a little harder.
Zod might live on, and if Clark ever found his other way, there would be no take backs.

Chloe's hand was shaking like there was a tornado blowing through the room.

Clark hadn't been able to kill his friend. He had loved Lex, no matter how twisted he'd gotten. If Clark hadn't been able to do it, she had to be the one to take Jor El's advice.

Destroy Clark too? The door swung open. Chloe jerked the gun down and shot.
See if he could take over the Earth like that.


Chloe's eardrums rang with the aftermath of the bullet and a scream of pain. It was a higher scream, a few decibels higher than Lana's. A guy's voice, she thought. Not Zod's. Familiar…

Thank god it was not Clark, back from saving her; this guy was too short. Chloe didn't know how she propelled herself over the desk, not caring if it was one of the mobs people.

Her stomach dropped. Jimmy Olsen.

"You shot me!" he gasped out.
His was a familiar face if one night stands, drunk in the dark, counted. He fell back against the door and Chloe knew just what was bleeding.

She wanted to cover her mouth and shrink back, but she wouldn't. This is something you only read about in James Bond books. No…

Jimmy looked down, his mouth a scarlet 'O'.
"You shot my…Clara-Chloe… I think you… oh god no."

"Jimmy. We are going to get you some help."

Chloe's finger stumbled over the three simple digits…. At least the cell system was working for now. Not quick enough.
She nearly bit through her lip. They had to have one free phone line in there. The voice on the other end of the line was too calm.

"Someone's shot. The Planet building..." She started to say.
Before she was finished she got a yes.

"You're going to be okay, Jimmy." She hated when her voice got like this. Choked. She sounded like a little girl. If only she hadn't been so reckless in saving Lana.

Jimmy wasn't looking down, and he looked like his knees were going to buckle.

"They're coming." Chloe tore out part of the other sleeve, reached out…
He tossed the stapler from the desk and shattered the glass pane behind her.

"Shut up! Stop. Let me have my last moments. I'm dying! You murdered me."

He sank down to the floor, knees curled against his chest, reaching for something else to throw.
Chloe held up her hands.

"It's okay; I'm not going to come closer. Jimmy…"

"This is because I didn't call, wasn't it? I just wanted—to have fun. I'm sorry! I thought you weren't a crazy *****."

There was no more pounding out there, maybe the mob had taken to their heels at the sound of the screams.

Lana crept out from behind the desk, from behind the curtain of hair, a bloody angel. She held up her hand, and settled near the wall.

"I promise you're going to be fine if I am." she said to Jimmy. "Pretend it's barely even a scratch. It's all connected. I learned that in yoga class. You can do this too."

Jimmy bunched his face up under the pain and bit his tongue.
When he looked up at Lana, not really hearing what she said- looking; Chloe knew that look.

Five minutes (twenty?) later, three paramedics and a policeman got in, bringing in the blue blankets to cover him on the stretcher.

Jimmy caught a glance at the red stain against the blue, whispered 'oh shit' this time, and fainted.


So there Chloe was, fingers clenched, sitting in the burned out hospital hallway. The way unconsciously parted for the innocuous farm boy. She didn't stay there long. Clark got to her so fast so fast that she wondered that he didn't shift into super speed. She was just happy to see him.

"Clark. Oh my God. I thought you were dead."
Clark's arms swung her around and he was so refreshingly solid and real that Chloe forgot that he would see the blood all over her.

"So did I, for a minute."

"Where did you go?"

"Somewhere I don't want to get sent to again." He said. They weren't exactly talking an angry mob either. Chloe took in the constant buzz. No one noticed them. They were just more people to sidestep, more bloodied bystanders.

The words barely whispered past her lips.
"Zod?"

"He's in there now."

"Lex?"

Clark closed his eyes, a smile barely dancing over the corner of his mouth.
"Alive. He's going to wake up with a headache from hell but…"

Clark had managed to save everyone without her collateral damage.

Chloe jumped at the screech of a stretcher's wheels. The nurses were wheeling another patient past them, not into Jimmy's room, at least.

Clark looked down at her with perplexed eyes. "Who tore out your hair?" Clark asked, gently. "What happened?" I just shot someone, thanks.

Ahead of them, a nurse kicked up a racket about there being no more beds. At least that was an excuse. Chloe loosened her hands on Clark's jacket, (they'd fisted) and shook her head.

"The crowd got a little wild. In short I got turned into a pull toy."

A stretcher wheeled its way between them.

Clark wasn't letting it by so easy.

"Your shirt is torn. Did they…do…anything?"

"Nope. I'm fine." Chloe pushed herself back, barely avoiding the metal rail. "Something tells me this might not be the time to catch up."

"When do you think it will be? We need to talk." Clark continued in a piercing whisper.

Chloe closed her eyes for that minute because his voice sounded so personal. It had become reflex. People were staring at them. Before she could shrivel up and die, he smoothed a big finger against the back of her head. Yeah, that really said 'nothing to see here'.

The stretcher hadn't moved away from beside them and Chloe's face burned temporarily. It wasn't just the people that she didn't know. Just a few feet away… Lana was standing right by the door to what they called a room anyway.

Clark felt different; he'd saved the word just like the hero he was supposed to be. Like he was not just a teenage boy anymore.
"Um... Chloe... before I left... there was this moment. We had this--- moment."

Chloe opened her mouth to say something but her lips felt dry. Well, it was the end of the world…

"See…We really need to talk about it." Clark said to her.

Teenage Clark would have noticed that Lana hadn't talked to him again. First thing. Instead he looked down, eyes making wavering contact with the dirty tiles, and lifting, to meet hers again, blue and killingly serious.

Maybe, Chloe thought, she'd just gotten too used to second guessing what Clark was supposed to feel.

"You can have the seat by the window if you want to, Chloe." Lana finally said, behind them.
Clark whirred like someone had lit a Kryptonian match under him.

Lana.
Maybe he just hadn't seen her.

"Clark." Lana nodded tersely, as if that was an effort.

"What happened to your hand?" He was far more hesitant to talk now.

Chloe caught one second of Clark nodding back, the look back in place. His eyes. They could seem personal to anyone, anywhere. That was just how he operated. She felt a little cold now.

They were saying something about Lex, not even facing her anymore. The hospital noise remained undimmed. She could almost lose their voices in it. There had to be something she could do out here.

"I'll just… let you guys talk." She said.

Then Jimmy started screaming again.


When Davis Bloome rushed though the doors of met Gen he got the distinct impression that people were feeling sorry for him. Of course the lights were flickering. And maybe there was more screaming going on than AM rock radio.

He was going into the ER. He had the drugs for the critical patient after all. He was green, but he was their only volunteer on this particular assignment.

"Bloome, you're up then."

Dr. Jansen with the perfectly straightened hair gave him a once over, the toes of his scuffed shoes to his worn scrubs, last to his face. It was a look that Davis was vaguely familiar with. You don't look like much, you'll have to do.

Davis looked straight back. He could deal.

His training partner shuffled by him muttering, 'I hope you survive' under his breath. "There's a psycho in that ward." He'd said.

Davis pulled up the medicines, half shrugging, keeping the empty gurney straight. There was someone he could help in that hospital room. He could make a difference.

He didn't just have to be just Davis Bloome, charity case here. It was still called on the job training, wasn't it?

Maybe Davis would have understood that meaning of 'psycho' if they had been able to get in. As it was the beds were barricaded by more than four nurse aide's holding one man still.

"He's not letting anyone touch him." A nurse whispered. There was a clatter of heels; Dr. Jansen meticulously picking her way to the head of the bed.

So it could have been delirium- maybe the patient had gotten hit with something from out there. The reaction with the morphine being pumped into his system…. That had been the news on the radio- the communists were trying to take over, knocking out power and trying some massive mind control drug.

Her polished voice rose over the chaos. "Calm down, Mr. Olsen."

"James Olsen!"

"Mr. James Olsen, we're going to give you something for the pain. You won't feel a thing."
The bed rattled, swaying on its wheels. The patient slapped away her hands, and the needle of the painkiller went rolling across the floor.

"You can't. I'll be helpless if she…comes back here! She shot my nuts off! And you're telling me to relax?"

"And who—"

"You should be keeping that harpie away from me. She caught something out there. Those people are all zombies. You've got to throw her out. Please! "

"Now, Mr. Olsen. Please understand. This is the only safe haven we have now… We can't do that."
The doctor brandished a needle just of his sight.

"She destroyed me! Of course you wouldn't understand. You're a woman!"

"Of course not." Dr. Jansen jabbed the needle straight -into the mattress as the patient squirmed away, off the hospital bed, falling in a tangle of tubes. Taking her with him.

She fell quickly, mouth open with frustrated dialogue. The needle on the floor must have jabbed her.

"Someone sedate him!"

The rest of the hospital room seemed to be frozen in place.

Davis was through the opening in seconds- he wasn't quite sure how, hand over his wrist before Mr. Olsen accidentally sedated one of the nurses, too.

"I didn't mean to." The blonde guy struggled free, eyes wide. "Man, you've got to listen to me…" he whispered.

"I'm Davis Bloome. You're going to be fine."

"No! I'm in d---anger!" he babbled, brandishing the bag of saline solution.

For some reason, keeping the needle steady came easily to Davis. He barely noticed the salty liquid dripping all over his face and uniform. Jimmy? James? didn't managed to knock anyone else out. He would sleep okay now.

Sure, quick thinking, smartass. Davis stood up in the middle of the hospital room, acutely aware of the ten eyes on him looking for some kind of direction.

Down the hall, another alarm dinged, and another patient rolled through the doors. "Coming through!" someone hollered.

The doctor was sleeping like a baby. What was Davis going to do with all those patients?


When the generator gave out, the first thing to go were the lights. The sound level exploded with barks of orders, the thumps of panicked feet reverberating in Davis's head like a heavy gong. Your senses were supposed to start going haywire after about thirty-six hours without sleep. This was five too early.

Davis just kept talking and hoped she could hear him.

"Just relax. You're going to be fine. Okay?"

Martie/Martha-had been the fifth patient Davis saw in five minutes. Three inches worth of glass were poking out of her chest, and the doctor's removed those. She reminded him of the woman who found him the second time he ran away, the kind of single mother who made you feel safer than the 'good' foster homes you found yourself passed through the rest of your life.

"Remember Bette-you want to see her."

"Tell Bet-" She struggled out her daughter's name as far as she could . Her breaths were getting softer and softer, barely even there.

Davis had oxygen. That's all he could do, at least until the next ER doctor got in. Davis closed his fingers over the tank in the pitch black. He couldn't even see her, felt tentatively over the ridge of the rail. One inch to the left or right, one misjudgment or teenage clumsiness and that was it for her. She was going to die without it.

He didn't know why he was even opening his eyes, as if it would matter. I'm Paul, give me a miracle. He blinked as a small pinprick of light circled the wall behind them. A figure lit with an ethereal glow. If this was his miracle, he certainly wasn't acting properly awed. "Over here!" he called out.

The beam circled around again, a few rays making their way to the stretcher. He could hear the shift of low heels against the parquet floors. A dark shadow with halo of short blonde hair.

Davis winced as the flashlight shone into his aching eyes.
"I've got it." She breathed.

What he had taken for an angel or an illusion born of 24+ nonstop work hours was just a young woman. A very—beautiful one. All he could really see was her eyes, focused and green over Martie's head, but they felt-familiar somehow.

Davis took the mask, turning it upside down so it wouldn't touch the glass. She seemed to know what to do. The flashlight didn't skitter away at the sight of Martie's bloody neck.

"Now hold it there, and take deep breaths." He had repeated the same thing countless times, but this time the words had to struggle out.

No response. Davis found himself stumbling over the first verse of the Hail Mary in his head. His eyes hurt. The young woman's eyes kept firm on his.

And the miracle was that after a minute, Martie was breathing.

Gingerly, the girl shone the beam back at the wall behind him again.
"It looks like she's going to make it. You know her?"

He'd first seen her coming into the ER four minutes ago.
"Just now. She really loves her daughter."

"She's lucky you were here to remind her. Your uniform says paramed, not empath." She peered at him, looking at his face first, eyes shifting to his uniform up and down slowly. Mostly Chloe thought that he was the first complete stranger saving people that she'd seen care in this place. It made it easy to forget all the rest.
"Next time I get dragged in here, I want you on my watch."

That left them there staring at one another over the stretcher, the flashlight beam dancing between them. She had pale skin, pointed chin. Soft eyes. Davis realized they were easy to get lost in. She wouldn't look away. It would have been safe to chalk it up to the sudden closeness of strangers in danger averted.

Instead, he found himself opening his mouth to say something-anything- to prolong it. There were half a dozen conversation openers he could have used, like 'you get brought here often?'
His partner would have given her a ready pick up line. For the first time, Davis realized he almost wished he could ever be the kind of guy that ever would be able to use one. The kind of guy who could afford to get that close.

"You were my guardian angel for a minute there." he said. A good enough start. (Davis knew how to be polite. You said 'thank you'. Or in less coherent moments 'you were amazing'. Not "Who are you?" right off the bat.)

She smiled anyway. "Chloe Sullivan. Daily Planet." Chloe. When Chloe put her hand out over the stretcher, Davis realized awkwardly he was still holding the oxygen mask.

She drew her hand back, but not before he noticed it was covered in blood. He wanted to ask if she was a patient,

"You make a good… wing person, Chloe."

"Any more calls to get to?"
Only about a hundred.

"I'm free." She plowed on. "Free to come on if you like, I mean."

Davis knew what she wanted to mean by that. Knew it wasn't safe. She was a patient at this hospital, not his training partner. But she understood this. Knew what it felt like.

He always kept his distance. For a moment Davis had a sense of something, a deep dropping in the pit of his stomach, a premonition. This was going to change everything.

He said the word as soon as hers left her mouth."Yes."
Davis lost sight of the blood in her smile.

"Then I'd say you've got yourself a wing person. We'll shake on it later."

Chloe blew the hair out of her eye. That would do.


The second generator came on an hour later. By then they had gotten about forty patients and they just kept coming. Davis was lost in the deluge when the doctors moved in.

Chloe occupied her spare time looking for where Lana and Jimmy had gotten lost to in the shuffle. In the room, Jimmy was actually asleep, not wearing the expression of perpetual agony. Lana was dozing in the chair to all appearances. But when Chloe caught sight of her own Glock tucked neatly in Lana's lap she felt like hightailing out.

She didn't of course.
And after offering the customary reassurances, 'I'm sure you didn't shoot them both off'- Lana handed it to her, butt first, wordlessly. Chloe had never wanted to see it again. "You could use that in case, Zod…"

Lana shook her head.

"I'm an artist… I paint things. And punch a few bags once in a while, but Lex has-had a way of convincing me to. I wouldn't be able to do it. You're the kind of person who knows how to use this without a flinch."

"I'm not."

"Maybe no one's that kind of person- but you tried. I've always thought you could only pull the trigger if you were desperately in love with someone. But you… would have done that for me. I can trust you. I'd feel a little safer if you had it."

Chloe had no choice really.
That's the way she ran into Davis, smack dab in the middle of the hospital hallway with that terribly efficient step of his. The gun clobbered him in the hip and went skidding across the floor.

She ducked to catch it before it got underfoot. Apparently he had that idea too.
They bumbled into each other and he got it two seconds quicker. He had warm skin. Another parallel to Clark she didn't need to get into right now.

"Hey, Chloe?" He said 'sorry', then something about coffee and she didn't hear a word after that.
He looked different in the light. His hair was brown as opposed to black like she thought and he wasn't quite as tall as Clark. He had dimples when he smiled.

It would have been impossible to forget his voice, though. How many people had he coached through operation chaos with her- forty, more?
Chloe realized if she didn't say something soon it was going to look an awful lot like she was giving him the once over.

"I'm not camping out for a news story on mobsters, just in case. I know the people in there." she said, as if that made any sense in context.

He looked at her, the gun, her again.

"…That James Olsen?"

Chloe nodded painfully, knot back in her stomach. This was the point where she had to stop distracting herself. He hadn't run screaming yet, maybe that was something. Davis just sank on the floor against the wall and patted the seat beside him. Chloe sat, not noticing the gaping tear in the frills of her shirt. Davis cleared his throat and looked at her face.

"The mob got into the Planet…and a friend and I… I just shot…"

Davis just listened; maybe that's what got the whole ugly story out. Clark didn't know.

"You?" she finally asked. He was just trying to stay awake. Just when she thought he had to have fallen asleep, he volunteered something.

"James had a shot of Alhadrovan. He has about seven hours of sleep ahead of him." By then, maybe they'd get to treating the non-critical cases. They weren't treating anyone who wasn't dying apparently. That didn't mean he wasn't.

"May I?"

He turned her hand over, probing carefully enough that it didn't sting too much. The skin was washed clean now but the marks gave it away.

"There still may be remnants of rust in the wound. You should have that looked at. I'll be your first volunteer."

His voice was professional enough. But…there was something to the way he said it, like they could have been alone in a dark place-their place. That intimacy terrified and excited her all at once. Maybe she was just thinking too hard.

By the time he got a 401 call- a guy with a fender in him, her hand was swaddled with gauze and covered with something she didn't know the name of.
Davis stood up in a swift movement, like a very non-arthritic person. Chloe bit her lip and stared at the way his inexplicably damp uniform clung to the lines of his--- back. He was attractive. That part of it was not complicated.

"See you?"

"I'll be right here."

And she was. Chloe didn't really enjoy her acquaintance with the wallpaper quite so much, but found some comfort in patting the gauze down and getting something warm in her. Only later she realized that the cup of coffee she'd just finished had been his.


Daydreams notwithstanding, it was a welcome change to play hero consultant when Clark got back.

It had been four hours. He looked a little pale, and he was sweating like he had a Kryptonian fever. Singlehandedly trying to restore the destroyed power sources in all of Metropolis did that. That was not to count the mobs, either.

The next two rooms were tuned into various radio warnings, theories about the chaos being a blanket for nuclear attack…. No mass speculations about alien invasions yet. They would have been closer than they thought.

"Why is this happening now?"

When Clark sank down into Davis's abandoned spot, he was wincing at the noise level.

"Let's walk." he said. And walk they did, through the darker spots of the hall. Chloe had a hard time seeing, had to stumble into the wall more than once. This part of the hospital looked abandoned, but she doubted it gave Clark's super-hearing much respite.

He looked afraid, like the universe's perpetual punching bag. And Chloe had no answers, except for the fact that Fine was Braniac and she doubted all connections would go post-apocalyptical all on their own.

"Braniac would have the ability to completely jam the communication like we're seeing now if he had a plan B up his sleeve. In theory. "

"You don't think I stopped Brainiac."

"You banished Zod, Clark. You never banished Braniac. He's trying to finish what they started."

"Where would you go first, if you were him?"

"Where was Zod going?"

Clark blinked owlishly at her.
"I don't know."

"Lana said something about him needing something from the Pentagon…"

Clarks face darkened.
"If he doesn't take DC…. It'll all be fine. I hope."

Chloe caught up with him when he was halfway to the exit. Superspeed wasn't something he could risk in here without severely injuring somebody, or something.

"How are you going to stop him?"

"I'll open the portal and push him through if I have to."

It didn't take her two seconds to realize just how stupid the plan was. He didn't even know where Braniac was, not really. After just barely surviving whatever that was… he was going to bumble into another storm of impossible odds. It was Clark.

She had to run to keep up with his long steps.

"You need to find out as much as you can from Lex, get a real plan…"

"You're a life saver, Chloe. If I don't come back…Thank you for everything."

He shouldered his way past the heavy glass doors into the dirty alley. No one stopped him. The security guards had long since been sent away to guard the main exits.

He was going to get himself killed out there. Chloe grabbed at his sleeve.

"Don't be a martyr-Clark!"

She felt the wind on her face and he was gone.

Closing her eyes, Chloe walked back to the door. He had to be fine. He was Clark. Blind luck was one of his gifts.

The back of her neck prickled. Apparently not one of hers.

"Well, well, look what the cat brought out." Chloe's insides chilled at the voice. Just across the flimsy chain-link fence was the man in the hood. And his knife.

She didn't have to check her pockets to know what she'd find. No tazer, no gun.

"I was wondering when you'd come out to meet me." He cooed.

Just three feet away, the door back into the hospital had locked behind her.


Endnotes:

1) Yes, Chloe has a personal stalker and it's not the good kind. Who hee ho hum....
2) There is a different meaning to streetwise Davis, here. I want you to guess.
3) Also. Jimmy, yeah, I'm really, really sorry. As you can guess, it wasn't a literal but metaphorical death. Call it my revenge for his little opening line from Zod. Maybe. I actually give him a better storyline than the show did and a ship of his own?

Next up, Chloe and Davis get closer (MUCH CLOSER!), Davis becomes acquainted with his darker half, Lex may be the key to stopping Braniac, Jimmy forms a functional relationship... no really!

Every bit of feedback helps. ;)