The Door We Never Opened, Part 2
Title: The Door We Never Opened
Author: latetothpartyhp / FlyingHigh
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, angst
Pairing(s): Chlark, Chlollie, Clois
Summary: Four years after his bachelor party, Clark is still pulling skeletons out of his closet. Sequel to Eradication, The Lens Through Which We Look and The Secret Parts of Fortune. None of them need to be read in order to understand this story. Note "The Secret Parts of Fortune" is rated NC-17.
Author's Note: Season 11? What Season 11? This story takes place after Clark becomes Superman but before the "seven years later". It assumes that Lex was first elected president in 2014 and the 2018 headline was announcing his decision to run again.
Table of Contents
Clark closed his eyes, shut his mind off from every distraction, and listened. Where there should be the wheeze of an inhale and the force of an exhale there was none. Where there should be the wub-WUB of blood rushing through Robbie's heart there was nothing. No breath. No heartbeat. Not for three counts. Or five.
Clark scooped Robbie into his arms. Behind him the grandfather was telling him the boy shouldn't be moved since it could exacerbate a back injury and someone else - Lois - was telling that voice to shut the hell up. Or maybe she was telling it to the sobbing driver or the woman with the stroller in tow who kept asking: “Clem? Clem, what's he doing? Tell him he can't do that!”
He had to get out of there. He had to get Robbie out of there, somewhere where there weren't so many people. Somewhere where he could breathe. He stood, shaky. He took a step toward the treeline, beyond the playground and picnic area. He took another step, and then another. If he could get to the trees he'd be in the clear. He could escape.
Naturally the self-anointed first-aid expert started shouting at him, the driver started screaming and the kid in the stroller began to whine. Lois crowded her way toward him and whispered, harshly, “What are you doing?” “What do you think?” he whispered back. He was past the playground now, only about thirty more yards to go. The crowd had stayed behind in the parking lot, except for the man who was mad he'd picked Robbie up. He followed close behind, remarking that he'd been a medic in the army and he'd seen the kind of damage spinal injuries could do, there were procedures for handling people -
There was a break in the old man's stride, then a grunt, then a thump. Then the old man was yelling, “What the hell do you think you're doing?!” and Lois was apologizing profusely and offering to help the man up. It was wrong of her but it had slowed the old bastard enough to get him past the treeline, into the forest. His heart was hammering in his temples and wrists. He couldn't swallow. He couldn't think. He stopped. He looked around. He could see out to the playground through the trees, see Lois moving in front of his now-standing pursuer to prevent him from following. It was darker in the woods than it was outside of them though. They wouldn't be able to look into the trees at him.
He took off.
Robbie flopped in his arms when he landed, and for a moment his own heart stopped. He waited for Robbie's head to lift and his eyes to open, squinting against the harsh Artic sun, but they did not. He remained still and heavy in Clark's arms as he carried him into the Fortress.
“Father,” he called.
There was no answer.
He tried to called out again, but his voice had broken and all that came out was “Fa...” and a jagged breath. He was crying, he knew. He could feel the tears pooling and the ache in his cheeks as he tried to stop them from falling.
He drew a deep breath.
“Father!” he yelled.
He heard the sound swallowed by the emptiness.
He drew another breath.
“FATHER!” he roared. “I NEED YOU!”
Again, there was no response. Clark looked down at Robbie. He had no bruises, no scars. In the hazy light of the Fortress he looked perfect and whole. As if nothing had happened. As if --
“Kal-El.”
“Father!” He lifted up his head. He didn't know why. Unless Jor-El chose to show the hologram of himself there was nothing to look at.
“Is your need for yourself or for the child you bring?”
“It's for the child. For Robbie.”
“The child is dead. What is it you wish for me to do?”
“I want,” he said, taking a breath, working up his courage. “I want for him to live. Again. I want him to be able to live.”
“There is nothing I can do for him. My son, you know this.”
He did. He had stood here before with Jonathan Kent in his arms and begged for him to breathe again. He knew there was no other crystal. He knew it was futile. He knew it all, and still he stood here, shaking.
“The boy is - he's Lois' cousin,” he said.
“Then it is right that you are saddened by his death. But the boy is moral, as are we all. Even you. We all must die.”
“Not so young,” he groaned. The tears were dripping now, falling on to Robbie's green-striped polo shirt. “Not so small,” he whispered.
Jor-El did not respond, but a light encircled Clark. It was both brighter and hazier in the light. Warmer too, which made him suddenly aware of how cold it was outside its glow. “It is always difficult when a life ends before it has come to fruition.” The voice from the crystals was calm. “But we are not petty gods, to chose at our whim who on this planet lives and who dies. That is why there was only one crystal; its use was meant as a test, not an expedient. It's lesson was to remind you that your destiny is to protect all of humanity. You cannot consider one above another.” The light inside the circle shown brighter and somehow also softer. The air was damper in it than the air outside. He breathed it in and listened to the voice of Jor-El and was soothed. Comforted. In his mind he could see the boy lying motionless in the parking lot but even as he saw it, the scene shifted farther away. He could hear Lois' scream, feel the tightness in his chest, but the scream faded, the tightness passed, and then there was only the light, and the haze, and his father's even tone.
“Bring the child to his family,” his father said. “They will want to bid him farewell. Remember your calling. If you cannot serve all, you cannot lead any.”
“I understand,” Clark said. The light faded and the outline of the surrounded walls became distinct. He turned and carried the boy out of the Fortress and into the sun. The solar light was both duller and harsher than the light inside the circle had been, but he welcomed it nevertheless. There was so little he could feel with his body anymore, outside of the arousal or anger. He didn't even feel real hunger anymore; most of the time when he ate it was to keep Lois company or avoid questions. But he could feel the sun. It was the only thing left that could touch him from outside, and he could feel his body crave it the way it had craved food when he was a boy.
The best place to absorb it was in orbit, watching the earth turn beneath him while he let himself be bombarded with cosmic radiation, but this place was a good fall-back in the summer. In summer, he would come up here and let the sun strengthen his body and the Fortress strengthen his mind, the way that it had now. He had come here in grief and he would leave in peace. What Jor-El had said was true. Even he would die someday. It was unfortunate that this child had died, but if he had not died today, it was assured that he would have at another time.
The boys parents would be upset, of course. They would grieve. That was natural. They would also recover, in time. That also, was to be expected. It was unhealthy to cling to what could not be. They knew that there were no guarantees. There was nothing more counter-productive than demanding the universe give you whatever you wanted whenever you wanted it, and certainly they, of all people, knew how much had been given them. It highly probable the universe would give them another child. He should remind them of that. Not right away, during the first pain, but later. To give them hope. That, after all, was why -
“Where we?”
Clark jumped. Only his super-powered reflexes kept him from dropping the boy on to the ice.
“Isss cold,” the body added. He would know. He was beginning to shiver.
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Shivering, Clark knew, was the initial stage of hypothermia. It would be followed by mis-coordination and vasoconstriction. Robbie was wearing nothing but the play clothes Lois had dressed him in for the park. If he didn't get to somewhere warmer soon, he would begin to shiver more violently and his fingers and nose would lose blood flow and turn blue. Clark had to get him out of there. Unfortunately, he couldn't move. Couldn't act. Couldn't think. The fast, whoosing, impossible wub-WUB, wub-WUB of Robbie's heart filled his ears: wub-WUB, wub-WUB. It was louder than the hiss of the wind or the crunch of the snow; louder than the voice of the Fortress had been. Still he stood, there frozen. It had not been beating before; it had not. It shouldn't be now, and yet it was, was speeding up in fact: wub-WUBwub-WUBwub-WUB, his body trying to keep its blood moving, trying to warm itself from the inside.
They had to go.
He landed a few feet from where he'd taken off in the woods. Beyond the trees the man Lois had tripped was bellowing at her: “-- care what your beliefs are! A child's life is at risk!” He needed to get back to the parking lot and pull Lois away before she decked the guy, but despite the temperature increase Robbie was still shivering. Clark took a breath and relaxed his eyes. A wave of warmth welled up in him and through him, softly surrounding Robbie's little form. After a minute or so the small body uncurled from the tight ball it had wrapped itself in and Robbie's head came up. “Where we now?” he asked.
“At the park,” Clark said. He started walking toward the argument on the other side of the treeline. “We're going back home now.”
“On the plane?”
“No, just back to the apartment.” Ahead of him, Lois was telling the guy to get his Stasi ass back to Russia but the guy ignored her and pointed at Clark.
“You!”
Lois whirled. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Robbie!” She ran toward them as Clark strode forward, this time easily out-pacing her pot-bellied opponent. Robbie was no longer shaking but he was still wide-eyed and, Clark realized, probably hadn't processed what had happened to him at all. As soon as he saw Lois he began to wail and didn't stop even after she pulled him out of Clark's arms and wrapped hers around him like a bear. Catching up to them the pot-bellied stroller-pusher yelled at the bug-eyed crowd that even if everyone else wanted to stand around with their thumbs up their butts, he was going to call an ambulance. Clark pulled the phone out of the man's hand and flung it toward the lake. Not into the lake, because as much as he wanted to, he wouldn't use his strength in front of so many people, but far enough.
“What the fuck are you doing?!?” the man stopped and screamed. Clark, having passed him, turned, walked back, and collared him. There was a ripping sound as the collar detached from the shirt. “Do not ever use that kind of language around my kid,” Clark said quietly. Then he turned to follow Lois, flinging the blue, tossing the blue, ribbed scrap of fabric that had come off in his hand.
Lois however was already at the mini-van, having stumbled and pushed her way through the crowd in the parking lot. Beside her the woman who'd hit Robbie was begging to know if Robbie was alright. Her sobs competed with Robbie's hiccup-y whines as Lois strapped him in his car seat, and the now-collarless man's entreaties for someone to lend him their cell phone. He ignored them all as he made his way to the van. He had an easier time of it as the rest of the crowd was probably loathe to incur the kind of property damage the shouting man had. He did pat the distraught driver on the shoulder, more to get her out of his way than to comfort her, but it did help quiet her a bit. “You'll let me know he's okay, won't you?” she asked as he crawled into the passenger seat. He nodded. She blew her nose.
Lois finished with Robbie, who was yawning now, and climbed into the driver's seat.
“Clark? What's going on?”
“Just get us out of here.”