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Chapter 16
"There, just flex your arm for me," the nurse said brightly. Gail
set her face and slowly moved her bandaged arm back and forth to the
nurse’s delight. "Wonderful," she exclaimed and scribbled
something down in her chart. "No pain at all?" she asked, and
Gail shook her head, irritated. "That’s good, it wasn’t a very deep
cut, but we were all so worried it might have damaged your muscles."
"But I’m fine now?" Gail asked her hopefully. "I can
leave?"
"Of course," the nurse smiled and Gail gratefully started to
climb out of her bed. "But we’d like to have a physical therapist look
at you first," she added. "He’ll be in here at about noon to see
you."
"But that’s three hours away," Gail complained, sinking back into
her pillows. "Can’t I at least go see my dad in the meantime?"
"I wouldn’t recommend it," Bruce said from the doorway. Both Gail
and the nurse jumped when they heard him. "The painkillers are
starting to wear off and he’s in a bit of a mood."
"Tom!" Gail said, scrambling out of bed. She flung herself at him
and Bruce caught her, looking surprised. She hugged him tightly, burying her
face in his shoulder. He endured it for a moment, and then slowly,
awkwardly, he hugged her back. Gail pulled back, looking up at him with
tears in her eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"Someone told me it was visiting hours," he smiled back at her.
"Oh, before I forget," he said and reached inside his jacket.
Brining out a small, wrapped package, he offered it to her with a bow.
"For the healing madam."
Gail laughed helplessly and quickly ripped open the wrapping. "Oh my
God!" she said, staring at it, "white chocolate!" She tore
open one of the bars and took a bite. "That you so much," she
smiled heavenly, drifting back to her bed.
"Still a sweet tooth," Bruce laughed, following her. He sat down
on the corner of her bed as she flopped back onto it. "I thought about
flowers, but then realized what you probably were missing more," he
said. She took another bite, nodding in agreement. She mumbled something
through a mouthful of chocolate, completely intelligible. "I’m
sure," he muttered, shaking his head.
"Well," the nurse said quietly, hiding a smile, "I’ll just
leave you to alone now." She started to leave, when she paused and
looked at Bruce carefully. "Excuse me, do I know you?" she asked
slowly. Bruce winced and turned away slightly.
"I don’t think so," he offered lamely. Gail smiled into her
chocolate.
"Oh, I know," the nurse said brightly. "You’re that boy from
the circus attack! The one we had restrained in the other- oh!" she
stopped suddenly. "Oh!" she gasped, staring at him, alarmed.
"No, it’s alright," he told her. "I’m fine now." He
gave her a winning smile and nodded happily to prove it. She smiled back
tentatively and backed up towards the door.
"Well, that’s good," she said quietly, feeling for the doorknob
behind her. "I’m glad to see your feeling better." She found it
and yanked the door open. "I guess I’ll be going now, again," she
added quickly and dashed out the door. Bruce frowned as the door slammed
shut behind her.
"Do you always have to have that effect on people?" Gail asked.
Bruce cocked an eyebrow at her and then rolled his shoulders, easing some
muscles around.
"That’s the plan," he said, flexing his shoulders absently.
Something popped in his back as he did so and he sucked in his breath
quickly. He bent and turned slightly, rubbing the small of his back with
one hand. As Gail watched him, her smile faded quickly.
"Any pain?" she asked sympathetically.
"Some," he admitted, "but nothing I can’t manage. Don’t be
so worried," he told her, catching her look, "I actually got off
pretty easy. Clark winces every time he breathes and I think his vision’s
still a little off, but he won’t admit it."
"So he helped you after all. I wasn’t sure he was going to do
it," she remarked softly.
"Hmph," Bruce breathed, looking at her sharply.
"What?" she asked, starting to smile again.
"I heard about that. Now what would make you think that Clark could
possibly help me?" he asked her carefully.
Gail frowned and answered, choosing her words carefully, "I saw him
fight Richie, and he seemed… strong."
"He is… strong. Can’t say I’m glad you asked him," Bruce said
gruffly, "but…" his voice trailed off. "It didn’t turn out
so bad. Not in the end."
"What about for Richie?" Bruce’s face lost his warmth gradually,
and something hard and cold seemed to fill it. Even though she’d known him
for years, suddenly Gail felt confused and frightened. She didn’t know this
person, she realized, whoever it was.
"Richie made his choice," Bruce stated, his voice lower and
stronger than she’d ever heard it. It seemed too strong for Bruce’s body,
it came from his mouth, but it seemed to originate from something else,
something bigger. "He made his choice, and he has to live with it now.
For the rest of his life."
"What happened to him?" Gail frowned and toyed with the candy in
her hands. "I heard that he was arrested, but where did they take him?
It’s not like he can just go to jail or anything."
Whatever was in Bruce faded and vanished, leaving him looking only sad and
weary. "The army took him somewhere. I figured that was the best for
him, you’re right, no normal prison could ever hold him. If there is a
cure, I figured they’d be the ones to find it." He sighed and then
smiled at her. "Let’s not talk about though. I spoke to your dad, he
says to stop bothering him, and that he’s fine."
Gail laughed and gave him a critical look. "He would say that even if
he wasn’t." She took another bite of chocolate and savored the flavor.
"I can’t wait until we get back on the road. Oh," she said,
looking up again, "the circus! Who’s going to run it now that… you
know," she trailed off.
"Your dad’s been talking with a few others and they’re going to finish
out the year as best they can, running the circus together. After
that," he shrugged, "who knows. He said he might take some time
out to rework the act. Not that it needs it."
"You can always improve," Gail said seriously and he laughed.
After a moment, she joined as well. "Sorry," she said, wiping a
tear from her eyes, "I don’t know what made me say that."
"You sounded just like your dad then, so serious." She blushed
and looked away. "It’s true," he told her. "I know you two
are going to better than ever now." He tried to say it off-hand,
gauging her reaction carefully. She froze, the chocolate halfway to her
mouth. Bruce winced and said quickly, "I meant to tell you earlier,
I’m not coming back with you."
She turned away from him on the bed, staring at the wall. "Why
not?"
Sighing, hating himself for saying it, but saying it nonetheless, "I’m
done here. There’s nothing more that I need from your father." She
didn’t answer immediately and he went on, trying to soften the blow.
"I enjoyed living with you two, it was like being part of a family
again. But," he hesitated, "I can’t live like that. There’s still
a lot more that I have to learn."
"You could learn it with us," Gail said quietly. "You’re
good, but you’re not perfect yet. You could-"
"You could teach me more," he overrode her, "but what I
need, I can’t get here." She turned back to him, her eyes brimming
with tears. As she stared at him he felt some of his shields, so carefully
crafted over the years, slip and he didn’t care. Everything that he felt,
but couldn’t say, was in his eyes and she saw it all. Gail breathed out,
her sigh somewhere between awe and sadness. Bruce tried to speak, but his
tongue seemed to be stuck in his mouth. "I can’t have a normal
life," he forced out finally. He reached out and touched her cheek
fondly; the first time he had touched her like that before. "I wish I
could, but…"
"Don’t say that!" she yelled, but didn’t move her face away. She
grabbed his hand and pressed it to her cheek. "Whatever it is, just
forget about it! Let it be someone else, please," she breathed,
starting to cry. Bruce looked at her sadly, and then leaned over and kissed
her forehead. She closed her eyes and tears rolled down her cheeks. Bruce
gently pulled his hand away and stood up, looking down at her. For a
moment, he wanted to tell her everything, but he knew she wouldn’t
understand. She would sympathize, relate to it, but she could never
understand. Even Clark couldn’t grasp it. What he’d told him had been true,
his parents’ murder had given him focus and direction, had pointed out the
truth to him, but his life had been decided long before that. They could
never understand that what drives a person is not what tragedies they
endure, but something greater, something that is there from the very
beginning.
"We are what we are, Gail," he said quietly. "And someday
I’ll become what I have to." He turned around and walked to the door.
He paused before he left, and half-turned back. "Goodbye," he
whispered and closed the door behind him. She didn’t look up in response.
Clark was waiting by his father’s truck outside the hospital, looking
slightly worse for wear. There was a nasty bruise on one side of his face
and a number of small cuts on his chin. When he noticed Bruce, he ran
forwards to meet him. Before he reached him however, Bruce took a pair of
sunglasses out and slipped them on. "How’d it go?" Clark asked
him as he neared. "How’d she take it?" Bruce ignored him at first
and started walking back to the car, his hands in his jacket pockets.
"That bad, huh?" Clark asked, falling in step beside him.
"How are you dealing?" he asked, eyeing Bruce carefully.
"I’ll get over it," he remarked laconically. They were walking
away from the car, but Bruce didn’t seem to care. He walked on, his face
set stoically, not acknowledging Clark at all. Clark was tempted to stare
through the sunglasses, but decided not to. If Bruce wanted to talk, he
would; there wouldn’t be any forcing him.
"I’ve decided to take Lex up on his offer," Bruce said finally,
surprising Clark.
"What offer?" he asked, confused.
"He offered me a sizable share in his plant here, in return for some
funding, he’s willing to ‘teach’ me about how to run a business,"
Bruce explained, staring off in the distance.
"I guess that’s great," Clark said slowly, not sure how he felt
about Bruce staying in Smallville.
"Don’t sound so excited," Bruce remarked, catching the tone in
his voice. "It’ll only be a temporary thing, I already know how to run
a business."
"The circus teach you that to?"
"No," he laughed, "I apprenticed myself to some of the
world’s leading economists and former business moguls. All confidential of
course."
"In addition to learning karate and being an escape artist,"
Clark rolled his eyes.
"Don’t forget judo, kung fu, jujitsu, ninjitsu, gymnastics,
Greco-Roman wrestling, hunting, detective work…" he went on.
"Alright!" Clark said, stepping in front of him. "If you
already know about it, why take Lex’s offer?"
"Because I like it here," Bruce remarked. "It’s interesting.
Things happen here that I would never find anywhere else in the world. It’s
the perfect proving ground."
"Proving ground?" Clark asked him.
"Do you know what I found out after all my studying and
training?" Bruce asked. "That even with all that, I still felt as
unprepared as when I first began. I’m not ready yet," he said, a trace
of bitterness in his voice. "There’s something not right, something
I’m missing. I don’t know what it is, but maybe I can find out here. That
is," he smiled, "unless you have something against me sticking
around for a little while longer?"
"No, of course not," Clark said quickly. Bruce smiled, glancing
away.
"I guess I’ll have to find a room somewhere," he muttered.
"You know any good motels around here?"
"I don’t know," Clark said reluctantly, his better half forcing
it out, "you could always stay with us…"
Bruce glanced back at him, his eyebrows peaking over the rims of his
sunglasses. "No thanks," he said quietly. "As good as your
mom’s food is, I wouldn’t feel right staying there." Clark sighed
inwardly in relief; he hadn’t been sure what he would have said if Bruce
had accepted.
"So you’ll be working with Lex," he remarked, mulling it over.
"Keeping an eye on him is more like it," Bruce muttered.
"Don’t tell me you buy into to all those rumors too," Clark
complained. "You sound just like my dad."
"Then he’s a wise man," Bruce said. "The stories about me
are all true, but only because I needed them to be. Lex did the same kind
of things because he wanted to. Oh he’s cleaned himself up a lot now,"
he admitted, "but frankly, that only makes me trust him even
less."
"What’s the matter with him then?"
"I don’t know," Bruce said, looking thoughtful. "There’s no
real reason for me not to like him, it’s just a gut feeling. Part of it
might be that he’s desperate to get back at his father. He lives to spite
him, even before he came here."
"Yeah, Lex and his dad don’t exactly get along. But you can’t hold
that against him. Lex’s dad has his own issues."
"Hmph." Bruce shrugged and started back to the car. "If Lex
wants to go after his father, I suppose that’s his own business. But if he
expects me to help, he’s in for a rude surprise. Childhood resentment isn’t
worth going up against Lionel Luther."
"You sound almost worried," Clark teased him.
"You obviously don’t know him," Bruce remarked dryly.
"Lionel’s ten times more heartless than Richie ever could be. I’ve
heard horror stories that pale next to his corporate takeovers. His father
will gut him and hang him out to dry, and it probably won’t bother him in
the slightest. But, best of luck to Lex if he wants to compete with his old
man. Who knows, he might even do it. Here’s hoping he actually read
Nietzsche though," he said under his breath.
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, it’s just an old quote," he explained. " ‘Battle not
with monsters, lest ye become a monster…’ I guess it applies to us
too," he laughed harshly.
The lab was cold, stinking of antiseptic and another peculiar smell,
something like a minty oil. Lex wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Does it
have to smell this bad," he asked one of the technicians. Behind him a
balding man in a military uniform nodded in agreement.
"Sorry," the aide apologized swiftly. "We’ve been trying to
keep the room free of any outside containments, there’s no telling what the
specimens reactions to them could be."
"He lived in the damn woods for two days," balding man snarled,
"I don’t think a few germs are going to hurt him."
"You never can tell," the aide shrugged. "We’re dealing with
a completely unknown specimen here. Physically, there’s nothing like him
we’ve ever encountered before. His cell structure has been completely
altered beyond recognition and the computers are going to spend months on
unraveling his DNA strands. He could be a field in himself," he said
almost absently.
Lex leaned in closer to the plate glass window. Through it, he could see
the lone occupant of the cell, strapped down in his harness. Doctors moved
freely around him, taking samples and readings. "Are they safe in
there?" he asked.
"Oh, of course." The aide pointed to the harness that sat in the
middle of the cell like an medieval pillory. The specimen’s arms and legs
were encased and protected in clear containers filled with a dark green
gel. "The harness is a titanium alloy and the canisters are laced with
a carbon compound similar to diamonds. Plus, the gel is special kinetic
absorber, he literally can’t move an inch in it." He added offhand,
"It’s also the cause of that smell you were complaining about, but I
think we can all put up with it, rather than the alternative."
The other man grunted and stared into the cell. "I appreciate your
father taking care of the set-up of this lab, Mr. Luther," he said,
"but I’d feel more comfortable if he didn’t plan on keeping him in
such a… open environment."
"You call an isolated science lab an ‘open environment’,
General?" Lex asked, amused. "There’s not another town for miles,
we’re surrounded by the latest in surveillance and security forces at my
father’s disposal, and we have a healthy supply of your troops at our
disposal. I don’t know, but I’d say this is a fairly secure location."
"You know what I mean," he said quietly, glancing at the specimen
again. "People coming and going out his cell at all hours, barely treating
him like he’s a threat. It’s dangerous, sooner or later, someone’s going to
make a mistake." "You let my father worry
about that General," Lex smiled. "Everything going to go just
fine. You’ll see," he promised him. He leaned forwards and let his
head rest against the glass as he stared in. "I’ve got everything in
hand," he whispered.
"Don’t you mean, your father does?" the general asked. Lex’s grin
grew even wider as he watched the activity around the specimen.
The scientist moved around him without care, hardly taking any notice
unless one of their coats brushed too close to his skin and parted neatly.
That was alright, it didn’t matter. He was caged, but he knew better than
anyone that you can’t keep something caged forever. He had, after all,
loved and watched an escape artist all his life. Strapped into the harness,
Shard waited and watched, his face a mask for the swirling rushes within.
He wanted to be free, and he would be, he promised himself, his face not
betraying an iota of his need. Soon.
THE
END
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