Fic: First Against the Wall: X: Bizarro

[extrasolar]

Parts: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII

X
Bizarro

Jimmy Olsen would die on the battlefield for me.

He never said it, but I knew when I overheard him defend me against those like Burns that it was true: he believed in my ideology, he looked to me as a leader.

And with people like Burns around, sometimes it felt like he was the only person in this place who could.

They were oldschool reporters: relics of the fourth estate, and some days I felt they could only have found female leadership palateable under a woman who at least had the good grace to be "feminine" about it.

I didn't have time to pander to that insecurity.

I had to take all my time not to mess up again. This time, it couldn't just be me, rummaging blindly through Lex's files for something - anything - which, although I never admitted it to myself at the time, I had desperately hoped might bring Clark back.

That was no longer my objective.

I had to accept that I would never see him again.

I delineated battle plans with Jimmy after hours. Chloe cut herself in on what we were doing - monitering activity at Lexcorp: we knew which facilities had a lot of human traffic; we knew which facilities were heavily protected.

Perry's office is not soundproofed. Perry likes to hear what is happening in the newsroom.

So I heard every word of passed between Chloe and Jimmy while I was in there, rummaging through his drawers, one evening.

"You're not an angel," he said to her, as if he had just worked something out.

I set the bottle quietly down on Perry's desk.

In my mind's eye, I saw Chloe looking at Jimmy with her eyebrows raised. Then she said something, quiet, so I didn't quite catch it it. I suppose Jimmy was closer to the office at the time.

"When you told me," he said, "what you did, I thought - you appear at people's bedsides when they're sick, and you perform miracles: you're an angel. But you -"

And I realised Chloe must have told him, like Kara had told her secret before her.

"No," said Chloe, and I think she had crossed the room to join Jimmy. I imagined them leaning together against one of the desks, almost, almost touching. "No," she repeated, "I'm not. Maybe some people think I am, when they half-open their eyes, before they go back to sleep. I don't know. All I know is, I used to do that to -" there was a pause, "I used to do that to Clark."

Was that why their relationship had changed, I wondered.

"You're a person," said Jimmy, and he sounded slightly subdued. "I get it."

I leant back in Perry's chair, fingering the neck of the bottle. There were times when I wanted to crack open Perry's scotch myself: I wasn't a recovered alcoholic, I could do it if I wanted - but I felt there was some show of solidarity with him in not drinking.

After a long pause, Chloe said, and I almost didn't catch it, her voice was so low: "I know you do, Jimmy."

And I knew Jimmy "got it" about Kara, too.

She was the city's favoured superhero.

"Superman" was just too ambiguous: too shrouded in mystery. I didn't need Kara to win Metropolis's love now that Kal-El was with us, but she won it anyway - with ease and with pleasure.

And, where Kara was open, Kal-El was taciturn. It made the people uneasy.

And me.

I remembered our first meeting, when he pulled me up to the roof of my apartment building and showed me the void where his world used to be. I remembered what he had told me then.

And I decided to ask him, one night, when we were up on the roof of the Daily Planet.

He seemed to struggle with an answer. I imagined two halves of himself splitting up inside him and fighting it out: I saw his jaw twitch; I knew this was difficult.

I laid my hand on his arm, and said, "I know you don't know what to think - how much of you is Jor-El." He looked down at my face, and I just said, "Just tell me what you want. The first thing you think of."

"I want -" he paused, and then looked up into that empty space in the sky, "I want my people back." Then he looked back at me, and something which looked like ache glinted in his eyes, "But I can't have them."

"You wanted a resurrection," I said.

"I wanted a resurrection," he repeated. Then his expression changed, and he said, "But not at the expense of your people. Now. I understand -" he faltered there, and looked away again.

Had I changed him, I wondered, or had he always been like this - had I misunderstood?

But it was a false dichotomy, and I realised I would never know.

And I might never know who he was in relation to Clark. I don't think he even knew.

"There is so much on Earth - worth protecting," he said, and when he looked at me, I thought something was calling out from those eyes in a language I almost understood.

We were ready.

Our pieces were in place: Jimmy and I were ready to go behind enemy lines.

Chloe was our base support. Kara would keep watch from the skies. And Kal-El was a force unto himself: Kal-El was always listening.

The idea bothered me.

Kal-El may have been free of our social doctrines, but it still felt unsettlingly to me like a man had decided I needed looking after.

But then, Kal-El had accepted my leadership after his own fashion - and when I realised he was listening for everybody, I made my peace with it.

It was a facility just outside Smallville: it didn't get a lot of traffic, but we had ascertained that it was a place frequented by the Lexcorp higher-ups: Lex's most trusted, if you could say he trusted anybody.

I had asked Kal-El about it, and he had just nodded.

So I went with the boy who would follow me into the bowels of Hell and back, though I inwardly made a promise to Chloe, or Kara, that he wouldn't have to.

"You'd better talk to Perry about getting me that raise," he half-joked, looking sidelong at me as I swiped the mocked-up access card Chloe had made for us.

"If you do good I'll get you a medal," I replied. I could almost hear his heart beating.

From there on out it was silence.

We had the blueprints. I had a basic idea of where we were going. Jimmy and Chloe had together set up a commlink so that she could sit in my tiny kitchen, surrounded by electronics, and wait for a Mayday.

Time seemed to warp and slow around us. Every corridor was the same, every encounter with a member of staff set my nerves on edge. From time to time I would sneak a look at Jimmy, and each time his face was more ashen.

Down the steps. According to the plans, the main laboratory was here: I dreaded what we would find.

Wes was engineered in a place like this, I realised. My aunt was experimented on in one of these labs. And Clark -

Oh god, Clark.

Jimmy grabbed my shoulder, and I realised I had lurched forwards. We exchanged a glance of - what? Horror.

This room was empty, almost, except for five large vats - and in the five large vats, five Clarks.

My guts burnt.

I grimaced, and felt myself fall onto my hands and knees, heaving. Jimmy grabbed me from behind, pulling my hair out of my face: I was grateful for the gesture.

I breathed slowly when I was done, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

I could just stomach a second look.

And there they were. Inert. Unchanging. I stepped forwards, and put my hand against the glass of the one closest to me. He didn't move: his face remained expressionless, his eyes closed.

I wondered if he dreamed.

"This is sick," said Jimmy. "This is sick."

"That's Lex Luthor," I said, with vitriol.

I let my hand slide from the glass and gathered my composure. "Jimmy," I said, turning and catching his eye, "get your camera out."

For a moment he stared at me, as unmoving as each suspended Clark, then he fumbled in his pocket for the spy camera he'd brought for the evidence. I took a deep breath to clear my lungs of the sick feeling, and tapped my eye.

"Chloe," I said, "do you have anything?"

"Not much," came her voice, crackling over the radio. "Anything your end?"

I looked back over my shoulder at the eerie sleeping Clarks. "Oh yeah," I said, pursing my lips, "but you'll have to see it to believe it."

"You'd better get out of there."

I looked back over my shoulder at Jimmy, who nodded, and gave me a weak smile. "Noted."

What the fuck is this?

Jimmy looked as sick as I had felt. More than once, glancing over at him on the way back, I wanted to tell him to cheer up - but I couldn't see what there was to be cheerful about.

And I wondered what this had to do with Kal-El. Were we wrong about him? Was he some failed Luthorcorp experiment? - but what about his involvement with Jor-El?

I had my priorities.

My head was pounding. I pushed past Chloe and pulled out the kitchen drawers, spilling their contents on the floor, before finally turning up the painkillers. Chloe looked from me to Jimmy worriedly.

"Where's Kara?" I said with urgency.

"Here." I looked over my shoulder: Kara had materialised in the hall. She was paler than I thought a Kryptonian could be, and I realised she had been watching us - she had seen what we had seen.

Jimmy wordlessly plugged his camera into Chloe's laptop.

I saw the blood drain from her face and grabbed the nearest basin. She took it, and held it in her lap, but just about managed to hold it together, taking a deep breath and then turning her wide, glassy eyes on me.

I didn't know what to say.

None of us did.

"Bizarro," Chloe said eventually. I looked at her. She let her gaze dart around the circle before saying, "Bizarro was a phantom who replicated Clark's body. It happened on Lex's watch, in one of his labs."

I realised what she was getting at.

"You think Lex has found out how it happened," I said, slowly, "and decided to..."

The corner of Chloe's mouth twitched. I knew what that meant.

I couldn't keep my thoughts to myself, rolling and bursting through me. I had to give voice: "What about Kal-El."

Chloe shrugged, pursing her lips, but Kara -

"No," she said, and her eyes glinted. She looked at me. "We know who he is," she said. "We found him in the Fortress."

"Look, Kara," said Chloe, "I'm sorry about Clark, but it really looks as if -"

But it was Jimmy who interrupted her. "Chloe," he said gently, and she looked at him, "I think you're jumping to conclusions."

This could get out of hand.

I decided to step in before things escalated. "Guys," I said. Three faces turned to me for answers: three eyes looked at me askance. I deflected, turned to Chloe: "Can we tell the difference?"

And it hurt me to ask that, because I knew Kal-El was listening. I want to trust you, I thought: I do.

She bit her lip apologetically, and then shrugged and said, "The meteor rock."

"No." Kara again.

"It's the only way of knowing," said Chloe. She looked from Kara to me, and said, "The meteor rock makes Bizarro stronger, and it hurts Clark."

I stared at her.

And it wasn't her.

I saw Kal-El before me, his wide eyes full of pain: an echo of the betrayal I had made earlier, amplified, screaming.

My heart was burning. There was blood on my hands.

"Are you serious?" I said, and I heard my voice as a whisper. "I don't want to do either of those things."

His hands were on my shoulders, steadying me.

I closed my eyes. The vision faded.

"No," I said. "I asked him if he stole bodies and he said no."

Chloe looked at me sceptically.

"He can't lie." I said, and I knew it: it was a physical impossibility.

There was an extended silence, and then Jimmy said, "So we're trusting Kal-El?"

"Yes," I said.

I knew it would be good enough for Jimmy.

Kal-El came into my bedroom again that night. I had lain awake with my malformed fear of what was going to happen next: afraid to take the sleeping pills, afraid to lock myself into a nightmare with those Clarklike creatures - afraid in a way which cut down into my bones, in a way I couldn't admit.

I was glad of the company.

I swung my legs over the side of my bed and indicated that he should sit next to me, and we sat together, looking forward at the wall across from us.

"Thankyou, Lois Lane," he said, after a long pause.

And that was OK.

I looked sidelong at him. His face was defined in the moonlight: a shadowy hollow beneath his cheekbone, the sharp line of his jaw. Part of his hair had fallen out of place and, without thinking I reached out to fix it.

I almost twitched my hand away when I realised what I was doing - almost, but didn't, running my finger along his hairline, tucking the stray hair behind his ear.

He turned his head to look at me, and I dropped my hand with an awkward smile.

"Why do you always call me Lois Lane?" I said, deflecting.

He looked so confused. "It's your name," he said.

"Here, on Ear-" I paused, and then corrected, "In America, you don't call your friends by their full names."

He seemed to absorb this, looking back at the wall. "Then," he said, "what should I call you?"

"Lois," I said. "Just call me Lois."

He nodded, slowly, and then looked back at me. "Then," he said - and he raised his hand, brushing his fingers down the side of my face - "you should just call me Kal."

Somehow, that burned inside me.

I closed my eyes, and caught my breath.

"What is Lex Luthor going to do?" he said, dropping his hand and looking away again.

And I noted that he used Lex's full name.

"I don't know," I said. "But he's going to regret it."

"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes cast down. I looked at the curve of his back, and saw the guilt in his features. He looked at me. "It was my DNA."

But I had already realised that - and how could I blame him?

"It's not your fault," I said.

But I saw in his face, before he looked away again, that he didn't believe me, and all of a sudden I was so angry. "No," I said, "Lex Luthor blames everyone else for his misdeeds - but they're all him. All."

"Lois -" he began, and for a moment he sounded so weak.

I wanted him to be strong. And, just like he had pulled me in when I least expected, I found my fingers running up his back, and my arm wrapping itself around his shoulder.

He leaned into me, so naturally, and I closed my eyes.

There were no nightmares.