agoodyarn | for have_no_mercy: After the End

Maybe if the whole world hadn't been firmly against him. Maybe if he'd gotten Jor-El's tutelage sooner. Maybe if his own Tess hadn't been gone when he'd gotten back from that other world the first time. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

It'd taken time and effort and study to find out the truth, to discover that he was but a mirror of a true universe, a darker view of what truly was. Kent was the world as it should be, and he was not Kent, would never be Kent. And apparently, the universe could only stand that truth so long.

The end had come and of course they'd blamed him, reality flickering out of existence, their world ceasing to be. He'd tried to help, tried to be what Kent and Jor-El had told him he could be, and he'd gotten a nasty sliver of kryptonite in his belly for the trouble. Ah, for what it was worth, he wasn't very good at this 'mercy' thing anyway. It required more patience than he could usually manage. And people were so very aggravating. It was that aggravation, that frustration, that powered him on his way back. And even then, it was only by a small miracle that he'd managed to get to the Fortress at all.

Then the world had turned upside down and sideways and everything was that much brighter in a way that he thought was... unfortunately (or fortunately) familiar. He was...

He was in that world. He was in Kent's world.

He still had the kryptonite in him, was still probably dying, but at least he was no longer in a universe that was slowly collapsing. And he was... in that clocktower where Queen had tried to kill him? How'd he get here? Why had Jor-El sent him here, to the home of his enemies? Except... was that-

There was only one other person in the Watchtower and it smelled like-

"Tess?"

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Of course Tess is in Watchtower. This is where she tends to spend her evenings these days, wrangling superheroes, admiring space whales and helping to stop the end of everything. The hooded and caped need their rest; a Luthor learns not to need sleep very early in life, even if they're not raised as one.

That doesn't mean she's not tired - it's her state of being more often than not - but she's definitely paying attention and when something strange happens in Superman Central, her guard goes immediately up.

Slowly, she sets her glasses to the side and edges to the banister to peek at the main floor below.

"Clark?"

Apparently her night has only just begun.

He can't do much more than shift around in pain, what with the kryptonite stuck in him. He'd have pulled it out, except he's well aware that the slivers will do almost as much damage if he tries to yank it. It'll need to be pulled out carefully and that's not in the cards for him right now. So what she'll see as she leans over is 'Clark' in slightly uncharacteristic black and purple, eyes half-wild with pain and-

"Tess?"

Clearly, he's dying. He's dying because there's Tess, waiting for him, as beautiful as she ever was. He doesn't love what she's done with her hair but... that was something they could talk about in-

Well, he's clearly in pergatory. Tess wouldn't be in hell and he wouldn't make it to heaven. Or perhaps there's somewhere else, some afterlife from Krypton that he didn't know about. They hadn't exactly gotten very far in their teaching. Either way, he's delusional and dying and that strikes him as incredibly funny. Jor-El sent him to another world for him to lose his mind and die.

Kinda covers his whole life all at once, doesn't it?

"Clark!"

It's more urgent this time; she can now tell he's in distress and there isn't anything else that makes her move faster than an injured or dying Superman.

Tess runs down the stairs and is at his side in seconds, panic stricken. "Oh my god, what happened? What can I do?"

He blinks at her, trying to pull around enough brain power to answer before his thoughts collect and he stares down at the significant hunk of glowing green space rock currently sticking out of his gut.

"If you... don't mind."

A swallow.

"Jagged."

How does he put this?

"Careful."

Careful? They may not have time for careful given the way he looks and Tess just isn't prepared for Kryptonian surgery. ...especially since kryptonite would be part of the process.

She pushes his bangs off his forehead, clearly worried. "We might have to treat this like a bandaid," she replies, soft but strong. "You'll heal once it's gone."

He almost argued with her, almost grabbed her and demand that she listen to him. There were HOOKS. It would tear at him.

But it was Tess. He couldn't ever-- she would be gentle. He knew she would be gentle. So he just let himself start to drift off, leaving her to do whatever she thought best. He couldn't help but reach over and try to touch her arm, though. And the desperation for it, to touch her, was clear in his eyes through the haze of pain.

She grabs his hand and squeezes; she's there for him and she will not let him go through this alone. Then she runs back upstairs to the small medical lab Emil has set up and returns with a scalpel.

And then she sets to work.

It not easy - there are hooks, after all, and cutting around them is tricky - and she winces every time he lets her know he's in pain, but she gets through it. One finished, she throws the jagged green rock away from him as far as she can for the time being.

All she can do now is wait and watch, hoping his body starts to knit itself back together.

It does; he's had it in him for a while, yes, but there's sunlight coming through the window and Clark's always been a resilient sort. The rock's far away enough that he can't feel it anymore, and that means that he's sitting up and looking at her now with fresh eyes.

Careful eyes.

She thinks I'm Kent again.

And there's a temptation here. A temptation to try and trick her, to play the part. But that's a game for a man with a place to get thrown back to and his world is very much gone. He knows that for sure now that he's coming back to himself. Deception was never his favorite method of manipulation anyway.

His hand goes to hers and he gets his around hers, ready to grab but not quite doing so yet before he looks up at her. He makes no effort to look harmless, to look like Kent. Instead, he lifts his chin before he speaks.

"Thank you, Tess."

She sits on her knees staring at him as he comes around, eyes almost brimming with tears. It's not love, as so many people assume; it's admiration for a man unflinchingly selfless, who treats her as if he honours her friendship.

He's the only one who ever truly has.

But then there's a shift, something in his eyes and the way he takes her hand. It's not subtle and for that she's almost grateful. After what they both just went through pretense would just wear her out.

"You're welcome." She sounds genuine. "What happened?"

for have_no_mercy: After the End

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didn't see this due to notifs!

no worries!

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