The Loyal Opposition, Part 10
Title: The Loyal Opposition
Author: latetothpartyhp
Rating: PG-13
Genre: drama
Spoilers: through Pandora
Pairings: ETA: I envisioned this as mainly a Chlark confrontation, but what emerged in addition to that were some hints of Chlex friendship, mutual Chless manipulation, and some (mostly) off-screen Clana. There's also a Lexana fight for anyone who's interested. And Cless! We have added Cless!
Warnings: some violence & language - ETA: Character deaths in store.
Summary / Author's Note: Chloe's on a mission for the resistance. Could be a Supernatural crossover if you squint real hard. Thanks to go_clo for the amazing banner!
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16
"I ... am," she said quickly, scrambling to a kneel on the floor. He shut the door behind him.
"Good." He walked to the bed and slumped down, elbows on his knees.
Exactly why that was good she wasn't sure, as he proceeded to spend the next few minutes not saying anything. She watched him brood for a moment, wondering if, as she had with the strangely preserved Luthor mansion, this familiar behavior could be considered a good omen. She hooked her thumbs together to keep from tapping them. A good omen for her perhaps, but it couldn't be good for the world. She was pretty sure there was no grounding Earth-to-Kal snark allowed during a super mope. Christ, how long was he planning to sit there? If he was going to counter-act Tess' decision couldn't he just do it already? Her knees were killing her. She propped up her toes and pulled out her old routine for queues and stake-outs: 1917, Herbert Bayard Swope, New York World, for articles "Inside the German Empire". 1918, Harold A. Littledale, New York Evening Post, for articles exposing abuses in the New Jersey prison system. 1919, none. 1920, John J. Lear--
"Why did you come back?"
She started up from her repetition, pulling the skin along her spine in the process. Ouch. "Pardon?"
"You turned yourself in. Why did you do that?" He managed to look both agitated and lantern-jawed, eyes fixed rigidly on the carpet.
Had he spoke with Tess? Even if he hadn't, even if the room wasn't 'bugged', she had no doubt the Planetary Secretary of Security would get the conversation out of him at some point. "I want people to live," she answered, trying and failing to catch his eye. "The more we fight the worse it gets though. It just started to seem useless. Counter-productive."
"And you thought you could do some good by running to an old friend and turning traitor to your new ones."
"I ... thought I could help. Bridge the chasm. At least build some piles." He was still not looking at her. Had Tess caught on? Had she told him?
"At what point did you think we could meet? I'm trying to keep two separate species from tearing each other apart and in the meantime you've been busy ripping. Where is our commonality?"
I've been busy ripping? Who exactly did he think had destroyed the world's major military installations, executed its heads of state, demolished its major cities? She dug jagged fingernails into her palms. "We -- I want peace. I wasn't thinking clearly before, but now, I know first-hand the consequences of war and I know we need peace if we're going to survive."
"What changed your mind?"
"I just think too -- "
"It's just been so long since you had any faith in me. Even before the Kandorians came, you didn't believe in me. And now you're tired of playing G.I. Jane you come here saying 'Oops, my bad?'"
He looked up then, green eyes boring into hers, agitation gone, accusation replacing it. She couldn't look away any more than she could use the opportunity; none of her ten thousand thoughts could be spoken aloud.
"The whole time I was trying to negotiate with Zod you fought me, and it killed me to know you weren't there with me, standing beside me. And then afterward, when Zod was defeated and the threat was gone so were you. Completely. Nothing mattered to you except that I hadn't done what you wanted."
She couldn't say anything. Even if she could have articulated her rage her instinct for survival had already locked down her locked down her throat. And she wanted to rage, to howl the way she had the day they brought her to the mansion. She wanted to yell. She wanted to get up off her knees and ask him what the fuck did he expect after telling her that he'd put humans on a pedestal they didn't deserve to be on and then speechifying about how Zod just needed a friend? After wanting to throw a man into the Phantom Zone who regularly blacked out and lost control when his genetic programming switched on and then giving her bullshit about assimilating the cognizant and oh-so-peaceful Kandorians? After walking out on her and not letting the door hit his ass on the way out?
What she wanted would get her killed, and then everything -- inviting Madelyn into her head, giving up Lana's location, getting that damn tattoo scratched on her back -- would be worthless. It wasn't about what she wanted.
Focusing her inner storm, she used it to pry open her jaw, lick her lips, draw the necessary breath.
"I know," she said. "And I am so sorry. I -- "
Her mouth fused shut again. She had to look away. She would go to hell for that one.
A giant hand slid under her chin, pulling her face back to his. "Do you really mean that?"
Oh, Madelyn. Please. "Yes. I should have had faith in you. I was just so angry after Jimmy died. I know that's not an excuse, but..." she trailed off. She could see his face changing. His eyes, so intent before, were growing wide and curious, as if he'd never seen her before. His other hand lifted to her face, his fingers tracing her eye sockets, her nose, the tip of her chin. His eyes followed as they continued down her airway to her collarbone, resting hesitantly over her pulse-point. They remained there, unmoving, his stare unblinking, and she was reminded of Tess and that horrible vase with the flowers stuck all over it and none inside it. Lana would have put flowers in it, Lana had put flowers into every teacup around this place, but there were no more flowers to be had. What had happened down there? What was happening now?
"No, it's not," he said suddenly, sitting up. "But that's all in the past now."