FIC: "Reunion", Part 23 of ?? (Smallville, PG-13)
Previous Parts
PART TWENTY-THREE
In five minutes, while casually and unassumingly sipping a cappuccino at the Talon, studying for her history final, Lana Lang had been asked eight times how the Kents were doing.
Protesting that she didn’t know anything, and secretly wondering why people had thought she would, had gotten her nowhere. ‘Oh, but your families are so close,’ they said. ‘You and the Kent boy, you know,’ added others. It puzzled her that the small-town nature of Smallville could spread the news of some trouble or tragedy - whatever it was about the Kents that they seemed to think she knew about - in minutes, but they hadn’t realized that she (a) no longer lived next door to the Kents, (b) hadn’t exactly on the best of terms with Clark recently, though there was some potential for change in that area, and (c) until recently was dating someone else (namely Jason Teague, and that relationship hadn’t so much ended as died a slow, painful death).
She supposed that Smallville Selective Memory Syndrome wasn’t restricted to ‘weird’ things after all.
On the fifth attempt, Lana had finally asked what was going on and had learned that Clark’s dad had had a heart attack the evening before and was in the hospital. Inquiries number six, seven, and eight were met with a polite smile and the assurance that she was heading over to the Kents’ right now herself, don’t worry, she’s sure everything will be fine, as she tried to make her way out of the Talon. Finally reaching her car, she exhaled in relief and climbed in knowing that no one would be asking her anything during the length of the drive from what the locals called downtown Smallville (she herself had started thinking of it as The Village Proper - Paris and Metropolis had taught her what a real downtown was) to the Kent farm. She powered off her cell phone - no interruptions - and slipped the key into the ignition.
Blessed silence.
She drove to the Kent farm robotically - not so much because she was masking some emotion, though she was worried about Mr. Kent, but rather out of life-long familiarity. She had grown up living next door to the Kents after all, even if she and Clark had barely known each other until high school, and she could have retraced the route blindfolded.
She arrived at their farm in due time and was surprised to see the barn doors closed. That hardly ever happens, she realized. I wonder what’s going on. She noticed that Mrs. Kent’s little sedan was missing - probably at the hospital with Mr. Kent - but not the tired-looking truck, and beside that was an SUV that she thought might belong to Chloe’s cousin Lois. She parked beside the SUV and pasted on a chipper smile as she climbed out of her own car.
Clark met her in front of the porch.
He looked nervous.
“Hey, Clark,” she said, hiding her confusion. “I just heard about your dad. Is everything all right? Is he okay?”
“Hi, Lana,” he replied, a little subdued, but given the situation, she supposed that was normal. Maybe the nervousness was, too. “Thanks for asking. I think he’s probably going to be okay, but we won’t know until my mom gets back. She’s at the hospital with him right now.”
We? Lana wondered. Something about how he said it didn’t feel right to her, but something else bothered her as well. “Is something else wrong, Clark?” she asked. “I would have thought you’d be there with her.”
If she didn’t know better, she would have said that the momentary expression on Clark’s face - a brief flicker soon hidden - was a look of panic. It passed quickly, though, but it added to her overall impression that something was amiss. “Oh, you know,” he said with false joviality, “someone had to take care of the chores. The cows and everything.”
As if choreographed, a cow in the near pasture lowed. Clark blushed. She’d often appreciated that about him - his bashfulness. It added to his usual humble (well, more humble than most guys their age), sweet disposition.
That blush had been the first honest thing she’d gotten from him since she arrived.
“Do you need some help? I’m not dressed for outside work, but I could do some cleaning inside or hang laundry or something-” She stepped forward towards the porch stairs. For half a breath, she thought she saw another Clark at the kitchen sink. She blinked and the guy was gone. She shook her head. She’d seen a lot of strange things, so she certainly knew it was possible, but something made her doubt what she’d seen. She was mistaken, that’s all.
The next thing she knew, Clark - at least the Clark outside with her - had grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around until she was looking at the barn again. “No, no,” he was saying. “We’ve got everything under control. But thanks for offering.”
What on Earth - Now she knew for sure that something was up. Whatever was going on, he didn’t want her going in the house. She couldn’t imagine why.
Nothing had changed. He was still keeping secrets.
“Is everything all right, Clark?” she asked again, and she couldn’t hold back a bit of suspicion in her voice. She was trying, really she was, but it seemed that Clark was determined to keep her in the dark about something.
“Um, of course,” Clark replied. “It’s just that Chloe and Lois are already dealing with everything just fine.”
So in an emergency he called on his best friend and a girl he hadn’t even known a year - she slapped down the mental reminder that Lois sometimes lived with the Kents - but his almost-girlfriend didn’t even rate a phone call? She kept her cool as best she could and tried a final time. “Are you sure? I could put something together for lunch - a casserole or something, that you could just pop in the oven later - I’ve heard the horror stories from Chloe about Lois and kitchens, and Chloe’s not all that much better herself-”
The nervousness returned to Clark’s eyes. “No,” he repeated. “We’ve got everything under control-”
“God, Clark!” she yelled, unable to control it any longer. “What is going on? All I’m trying to do is help, and you keep pushing me away. Why don’t you want me to go inside? What on Earth could you possibly be hiding in there - I’m not an idiot, Clark. I know strange things happen in Smallville. Is that what’s going on? Just tell me, Clark!”
He simply stood there, mute.
She threw up her hands. “That’s it,” she told him. “I’m done. I thought you meant it when you said things would be different. I have had it with all these secrets. How can I do anything to help if I don’t know what’s going on? God, everyone’s always keeping everything from me - you, Jason, even back with Whitney and my aunt-”
Something she had said finally hit him and before she could manage another work, Clark was shouting back at her. “Lana, people keep secrets. They just do. And sometimes they’re big secrets, and sometimes they’re so small it’s almost not worth keeping them from people, but a secret’s a secret. You always have to know everything about everyone before anyone else does. I’m sorry, but that is not how normal people are supposed to act. The world doesn’t revolve around you. Did it ever occur to you that maybe if you just left well enough alone, eventually people would just tell you their secrets, when they were ready? You’ve missed your chance, Lana, again. I’ve been so close to telling you everything, and I thought I’d actually do it this time - maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but sometime really soon - and this happens. Whatever happened to letting people do things their own way, in their own time?”
She’d never seen him so angry, but it didn’t scare her - instead it simply pushed her further. “There’s a limit on the number of secrets I can handle not knowing, Clark,” she replied. “Especially from the person who claimed he loves me, the person who wanted to try again. Here’s me telling you a secret in my own time. I think we’re through.” She began walking back towards her car.
“Fine,” he said, following her - stomping, really, and that was as disquieting as the rest of his angry behavior this morning. “Want to know one of my secrets, Lana?” There was a hurt, almost vindictive tone to his voice, but it didn’t change her attitude in the least. “Last night, Lois and I kissed and it was the best I’ve ever had.”
That admission hurt, but she didn’t stop. She unlocked the door and climbed in. Looking at him through the window - still rolled down in the summery warmth - she replied, “Typical. And to think I believed you when you said you could barely stand her. Do your parents know what the two of you get up to? Or is this another limited-audience secret? I suppose now’s a good time to let you know I decided to apply to Met U after all - and with my grades and extracurriculars and my study abroad, I’m a shoo-in even now after the deadlines. Guess I won’t have to keep my weekends clear to come back to Smallville after all.”
That said, she started the engine.
She barely spared him a glance as she back up, but it seemed regret and remorse were already showing up on his face. She ignored it and left. She was tired of the constant back-and-forth with Clark, and maybe it was really over this time.
Really over.
She continued to fume even as she made it back to the two-lane highway. It would be good to finally be done with high school, to finally move on like she thought she had in Paris, but for real this time, in Metropolis. Things would be different in the Big Apricot - better, more real, more like what she was destined to do, whatever that was.
Her musings were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a man on the highway. She was speeding and it was sheer dumb luck that she didn’t hit him, or swerve into the ditch. She stopped just shy of the man, her heart racing, breathing hard. She blinked, staring as the dust from the road, kicked up by her braking, settled.
The man was Lex.
He stood with his head tilted slightly, as if puzzling over something, but this didn’t last very long: soon he stood straighter and a strange smile formed where a frown had been.
She didn’t like the look of that smile.
She quickly shifted the car into park, even setting the parking brake, and unbuckled her belt. Leaving the door open - there was no traffic as far as the eye could see - she climbed out. “Lex? Are you all right?” she asked hesitantly, hoping that her offers of help would be better received this time.
His eyes narrowed briefly and the smile turned all the more disturbing. “Lana Lang,” he said softly, as if to himself. “Ka fanyu…Smaal? Es fanyu Lang?” Then he shook his head, as if whatever he was saying didn’t really matter, and said, clearly, as if he was doing nothing unusual, as if he was the same Lex Luthor she’d known for so long, “Lana, I need your help.”
She stepped forward, a little cautiously, but he didn’t do anything else unusual as she moved. “What’s wrong, Lex? What are you doing out here, in the middle of the - “”
Before she could finish the sentence, in the very moment she got within arms’ length of him, he reached out and tapped her on the head.
The last thing she was aware of was falling onto the asphalt.
Lana’s first thought when she regained consciousness was about how badly her head ached.
The second, as she opened her eyes and, groaning, tried to sit up, was to wonder what she was doing in the Kawatche caves.
It wasn’t the first time she’d found herself in the caves without any memory of how she had gotten there, but at least this time she was wearing the same clothing she last remembered putting on. And she was all but alone: no Lois or Chloe to share in her confusion, and instead of Clark helping her up, she saw Lex, doing something to a part of the cave wall that was lit up in purple, yellow and green.
I don’t remember that being there before.
Lex turned towards her, that same satisfied, dark grin on his face that he’d had before. “The timing is good, Lana of Lang - or is it Small? No matter,” he said - and it wasn’t the strangely-used words but his tone that cemented in her mind one part of what was going on:
This was not Lex. It might be Lex’s body, but Lex was not in charge of it.
She had some personal familiarity with the concept.
“Who are you?” she demanded, trying to stand up. It was difficult, but she finally managed it, swaying a little. Lovely. Another head injury.
“It is of no matter, human,” the thing in Lex replied, “but I so enjoyed the taste of fear in my vessel when he learned the truth. I am General Dru-Zod of the planet Krypton.”
Planet? The thing in Lex is an alien?
Oh, god.
The meteor shower.
The damn meteor shower. Something had come down in the meteor shower after all, and now it was ready to carry out whatever nefarious plan it had brought with it to Earth. And something about the caves was important to that plan.
“What do you want with me?” she asked with venom in her voice.
The thing-in-Lex - General Dru-Zod, it had called itself - looked her up and down in a slow, languorous way. It felt dirty. “I have need of a second vessel,” he said. “A vessel for someone very important to me. You will more than suffice.”
Dru-Zod activated the memory storage device and watched as the transfer beam illuminated the female vessel’s form with anticipation. She was not his first choice, on appearance, but she would do: her role in the local social order was potentially useful -
Unexpectedly, a bright pink glow surrounded the body of Lana of the House of Lang, centering in her eyes and focusing into a beam to counter the transference device - No! I will not -
The pink glow lifted itself out of the vessel’s body as she screamed. It was an unholy sound, a death-keen, and when it ended the bright light of the transfer resumed as if nothing had interrupted it. The pink glow dissipated.
Dru-Zod sighed in relief. Who would have guessed that this primitive would have already served as a vessel to some other entity? He relaxed. A minor, momentary inconvenience.
The plan was back on track. There would be no other inconveniences.
Ursa Dru-Zod, nee Lin-Var, inhaled for the first time in her vessel of flesh and blood. She felt small, but when she looked up and saw the other vessel and the old, familiar expression on his face, she knew that Dru-Zod was there and the time had come. “Husband,” she said, the voice of the vessel sounding strange and girlish.
The man smiled. “I hope you are pleased with the vessel I found for you, my wife,” he said, and it was strange to hear the familiar words coming from the alien form. His vessel was bald, but young, and it was a strangely pleasing form to her eyes. She sauntered up to it and drew her new hands over his head, down his neck, into his chest hidden by the half-closed tunic he wore. She catalogued the sensations of her hands on his new skin. “Hm, I can say that I am pleased with yours so far, husband,” she told him and then caught his lip in a kiss. He reciprocated, harshly, with unfamiliar strength, pushing her up against the rock wall.
She pulled her lips away and breathed. “Ah, so you are the husband I remember,” she said saucily, rubbing an errant hand on his thigh. “Tell me, then, why you chose this one for me? Does her appearance please you?”
“In time she will,” he said. “She’s too young for my taste, but I can ignore it until she matures if you can. I see the potential of something approximating your true beauty.”
“Were there no better vessels? Or is there a hidden meaning in her youth?”
He grinned. “There is indeed. The reasons are twofold: first, her appearance is youthful and unintimidating - a useful ploy. She is small, fragile - the strengths we acquire here will hide under the innocence of her form.”
“Ah,” Ursa said, “I see. And the second reason?”
“The second is this,” he continued. “The son of Jor-El survived. He knows and trusts the vessel you now inhabit. He may even love her - that he desires her is without question. Search her memories and you will know this to be true.”
She did so, quickly and in a cursory manner, but it seemed that her husband was telling the truth. The son of Jor-El was here, and he knew her vessel - and his as well. Ursa Dru-Zod smiled. “Excellent.”
Dru-Zod moved away from her and she could see the light of a plan in his eyes. “What are you doing, my husband?” she asked.
He grinned as he did his work. “I have an idea, Ursa, a plan to further alienate the son of Jor-El from his human companions,” he said, his eyes still on his work. “To buy us a little more time in the midst of their confusion.”
She didn’t bother asking what the idea was; she could see the certainty in his face - whatever he was doing, it would work. “Vengeance is ours, then, husband?”
Dru-Zod turned back to her, pulling his hands from the console with a flourish. “Vengeance is very, very soon,” he replied, returning to her.
“Wonderful,” Ursa exclaimed and then pulled him towards her in another harsh, familiar kiss.
TBC
PART TWENTY-THREE
In five minutes, while casually and unassumingly sipping a cappuccino at the Talon, studying for her history final, Lana Lang had been asked eight times how the Kents were doing.
Protesting that she didn’t know anything, and secretly wondering why people had thought she would, had gotten her nowhere. ‘Oh, but your families are so close,’ they said. ‘You and the Kent boy, you know,’ added others. It puzzled her that the small-town nature of Smallville could spread the news of some trouble or tragedy - whatever it was about the Kents that they seemed to think she knew about - in minutes, but they hadn’t realized that she (a) no longer lived next door to the Kents, (b) hadn’t exactly on the best of terms with Clark recently, though there was some potential for change in that area, and (c) until recently was dating someone else (namely Jason Teague, and that relationship hadn’t so much ended as died a slow, painful death).
She supposed that Smallville Selective Memory Syndrome wasn’t restricted to ‘weird’ things after all.
On the fifth attempt, Lana had finally asked what was going on and had learned that Clark’s dad had had a heart attack the evening before and was in the hospital. Inquiries number six, seven, and eight were met with a polite smile and the assurance that she was heading over to the Kents’ right now herself, don’t worry, she’s sure everything will be fine, as she tried to make her way out of the Talon. Finally reaching her car, she exhaled in relief and climbed in knowing that no one would be asking her anything during the length of the drive from what the locals called downtown Smallville (she herself had started thinking of it as The Village Proper - Paris and Metropolis had taught her what a real downtown was) to the Kent farm. She powered off her cell phone - no interruptions - and slipped the key into the ignition.
Blessed silence.
She drove to the Kent farm robotically - not so much because she was masking some emotion, though she was worried about Mr. Kent, but rather out of life-long familiarity. She had grown up living next door to the Kents after all, even if she and Clark had barely known each other until high school, and she could have retraced the route blindfolded.
She arrived at their farm in due time and was surprised to see the barn doors closed. That hardly ever happens, she realized. I wonder what’s going on. She noticed that Mrs. Kent’s little sedan was missing - probably at the hospital with Mr. Kent - but not the tired-looking truck, and beside that was an SUV that she thought might belong to Chloe’s cousin Lois. She parked beside the SUV and pasted on a chipper smile as she climbed out of her own car.
Clark met her in front of the porch.
He looked nervous.
“Hey, Clark,” she said, hiding her confusion. “I just heard about your dad. Is everything all right? Is he okay?”
“Hi, Lana,” he replied, a little subdued, but given the situation, she supposed that was normal. Maybe the nervousness was, too. “Thanks for asking. I think he’s probably going to be okay, but we won’t know until my mom gets back. She’s at the hospital with him right now.”
We? Lana wondered. Something about how he said it didn’t feel right to her, but something else bothered her as well. “Is something else wrong, Clark?” she asked. “I would have thought you’d be there with her.”
If she didn’t know better, she would have said that the momentary expression on Clark’s face - a brief flicker soon hidden - was a look of panic. It passed quickly, though, but it added to her overall impression that something was amiss. “Oh, you know,” he said with false joviality, “someone had to take care of the chores. The cows and everything.”
As if choreographed, a cow in the near pasture lowed. Clark blushed. She’d often appreciated that about him - his bashfulness. It added to his usual humble (well, more humble than most guys their age), sweet disposition.
That blush had been the first honest thing she’d gotten from him since she arrived.
“Do you need some help? I’m not dressed for outside work, but I could do some cleaning inside or hang laundry or something-” She stepped forward towards the porch stairs. For half a breath, she thought she saw another Clark at the kitchen sink. She blinked and the guy was gone. She shook her head. She’d seen a lot of strange things, so she certainly knew it was possible, but something made her doubt what she’d seen. She was mistaken, that’s all.
The next thing she knew, Clark - at least the Clark outside with her - had grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around until she was looking at the barn again. “No, no,” he was saying. “We’ve got everything under control. But thanks for offering.”
What on Earth - Now she knew for sure that something was up. Whatever was going on, he didn’t want her going in the house. She couldn’t imagine why.
Nothing had changed. He was still keeping secrets.
“Is everything all right, Clark?” she asked again, and she couldn’t hold back a bit of suspicion in her voice. She was trying, really she was, but it seemed that Clark was determined to keep her in the dark about something.
“Um, of course,” Clark replied. “It’s just that Chloe and Lois are already dealing with everything just fine.”
So in an emergency he called on his best friend and a girl he hadn’t even known a year - she slapped down the mental reminder that Lois sometimes lived with the Kents - but his almost-girlfriend didn’t even rate a phone call? She kept her cool as best she could and tried a final time. “Are you sure? I could put something together for lunch - a casserole or something, that you could just pop in the oven later - I’ve heard the horror stories from Chloe about Lois and kitchens, and Chloe’s not all that much better herself-”
The nervousness returned to Clark’s eyes. “No,” he repeated. “We’ve got everything under control-”
“God, Clark!” she yelled, unable to control it any longer. “What is going on? All I’m trying to do is help, and you keep pushing me away. Why don’t you want me to go inside? What on Earth could you possibly be hiding in there - I’m not an idiot, Clark. I know strange things happen in Smallville. Is that what’s going on? Just tell me, Clark!”
He simply stood there, mute.
She threw up her hands. “That’s it,” she told him. “I’m done. I thought you meant it when you said things would be different. I have had it with all these secrets. How can I do anything to help if I don’t know what’s going on? God, everyone’s always keeping everything from me - you, Jason, even back with Whitney and my aunt-”
Something she had said finally hit him and before she could manage another work, Clark was shouting back at her. “Lana, people keep secrets. They just do. And sometimes they’re big secrets, and sometimes they’re so small it’s almost not worth keeping them from people, but a secret’s a secret. You always have to know everything about everyone before anyone else does. I’m sorry, but that is not how normal people are supposed to act. The world doesn’t revolve around you. Did it ever occur to you that maybe if you just left well enough alone, eventually people would just tell you their secrets, when they were ready? You’ve missed your chance, Lana, again. I’ve been so close to telling you everything, and I thought I’d actually do it this time - maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but sometime really soon - and this happens. Whatever happened to letting people do things their own way, in their own time?”
She’d never seen him so angry, but it didn’t scare her - instead it simply pushed her further. “There’s a limit on the number of secrets I can handle not knowing, Clark,” she replied. “Especially from the person who claimed he loves me, the person who wanted to try again. Here’s me telling you a secret in my own time. I think we’re through.” She began walking back towards her car.
“Fine,” he said, following her - stomping, really, and that was as disquieting as the rest of his angry behavior this morning. “Want to know one of my secrets, Lana?” There was a hurt, almost vindictive tone to his voice, but it didn’t change her attitude in the least. “Last night, Lois and I kissed and it was the best I’ve ever had.”
That admission hurt, but she didn’t stop. She unlocked the door and climbed in. Looking at him through the window - still rolled down in the summery warmth - she replied, “Typical. And to think I believed you when you said you could barely stand her. Do your parents know what the two of you get up to? Or is this another limited-audience secret? I suppose now’s a good time to let you know I decided to apply to Met U after all - and with my grades and extracurriculars and my study abroad, I’m a shoo-in even now after the deadlines. Guess I won’t have to keep my weekends clear to come back to Smallville after all.”
That said, she started the engine.
She barely spared him a glance as she back up, but it seemed regret and remorse were already showing up on his face. She ignored it and left. She was tired of the constant back-and-forth with Clark, and maybe it was really over this time.
Really over.
She continued to fume even as she made it back to the two-lane highway. It would be good to finally be done with high school, to finally move on like she thought she had in Paris, but for real this time, in Metropolis. Things would be different in the Big Apricot - better, more real, more like what she was destined to do, whatever that was.
Her musings were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a man on the highway. She was speeding and it was sheer dumb luck that she didn’t hit him, or swerve into the ditch. She stopped just shy of the man, her heart racing, breathing hard. She blinked, staring as the dust from the road, kicked up by her braking, settled.
The man was Lex.
He stood with his head tilted slightly, as if puzzling over something, but this didn’t last very long: soon he stood straighter and a strange smile formed where a frown had been.
She didn’t like the look of that smile.
She quickly shifted the car into park, even setting the parking brake, and unbuckled her belt. Leaving the door open - there was no traffic as far as the eye could see - she climbed out. “Lex? Are you all right?” she asked hesitantly, hoping that her offers of help would be better received this time.
His eyes narrowed briefly and the smile turned all the more disturbing. “Lana Lang,” he said softly, as if to himself. “Ka fanyu…Smaal? Es fanyu Lang?” Then he shook his head, as if whatever he was saying didn’t really matter, and said, clearly, as if he was doing nothing unusual, as if he was the same Lex Luthor she’d known for so long, “Lana, I need your help.”
She stepped forward, a little cautiously, but he didn’t do anything else unusual as she moved. “What’s wrong, Lex? What are you doing out here, in the middle of the - “”
Before she could finish the sentence, in the very moment she got within arms’ length of him, he reached out and tapped her on the head.
The last thing she was aware of was falling onto the asphalt.
Lana’s first thought when she regained consciousness was about how badly her head ached.
The second, as she opened her eyes and, groaning, tried to sit up, was to wonder what she was doing in the Kawatche caves.
It wasn’t the first time she’d found herself in the caves without any memory of how she had gotten there, but at least this time she was wearing the same clothing she last remembered putting on. And she was all but alone: no Lois or Chloe to share in her confusion, and instead of Clark helping her up, she saw Lex, doing something to a part of the cave wall that was lit up in purple, yellow and green.
I don’t remember that being there before.
Lex turned towards her, that same satisfied, dark grin on his face that he’d had before. “The timing is good, Lana of Lang - or is it Small? No matter,” he said - and it wasn’t the strangely-used words but his tone that cemented in her mind one part of what was going on:
This was not Lex. It might be Lex’s body, but Lex was not in charge of it.
She had some personal familiarity with the concept.
“Who are you?” she demanded, trying to stand up. It was difficult, but she finally managed it, swaying a little. Lovely. Another head injury.
“It is of no matter, human,” the thing in Lex replied, “but I so enjoyed the taste of fear in my vessel when he learned the truth. I am General Dru-Zod of the planet Krypton.”
Planet? The thing in Lex is an alien?
Oh, god.
The meteor shower.
The damn meteor shower. Something had come down in the meteor shower after all, and now it was ready to carry out whatever nefarious plan it had brought with it to Earth. And something about the caves was important to that plan.
“What do you want with me?” she asked with venom in her voice.
The thing-in-Lex - General Dru-Zod, it had called itself - looked her up and down in a slow, languorous way. It felt dirty. “I have need of a second vessel,” he said. “A vessel for someone very important to me. You will more than suffice.”
Dru-Zod activated the memory storage device and watched as the transfer beam illuminated the female vessel’s form with anticipation. She was not his first choice, on appearance, but she would do: her role in the local social order was potentially useful -
Unexpectedly, a bright pink glow surrounded the body of Lana of the House of Lang, centering in her eyes and focusing into a beam to counter the transference device - No! I will not -
The pink glow lifted itself out of the vessel’s body as she screamed. It was an unholy sound, a death-keen, and when it ended the bright light of the transfer resumed as if nothing had interrupted it. The pink glow dissipated.
Dru-Zod sighed in relief. Who would have guessed that this primitive would have already served as a vessel to some other entity? He relaxed. A minor, momentary inconvenience.
The plan was back on track. There would be no other inconveniences.
Ursa Dru-Zod, nee Lin-Var, inhaled for the first time in her vessel of flesh and blood. She felt small, but when she looked up and saw the other vessel and the old, familiar expression on his face, she knew that Dru-Zod was there and the time had come. “Husband,” she said, the voice of the vessel sounding strange and girlish.
The man smiled. “I hope you are pleased with the vessel I found for you, my wife,” he said, and it was strange to hear the familiar words coming from the alien form. His vessel was bald, but young, and it was a strangely pleasing form to her eyes. She sauntered up to it and drew her new hands over his head, down his neck, into his chest hidden by the half-closed tunic he wore. She catalogued the sensations of her hands on his new skin. “Hm, I can say that I am pleased with yours so far, husband,” she told him and then caught his lip in a kiss. He reciprocated, harshly, with unfamiliar strength, pushing her up against the rock wall.
She pulled her lips away and breathed. “Ah, so you are the husband I remember,” she said saucily, rubbing an errant hand on his thigh. “Tell me, then, why you chose this one for me? Does her appearance please you?”
“In time she will,” he said. “She’s too young for my taste, but I can ignore it until she matures if you can. I see the potential of something approximating your true beauty.”
“Were there no better vessels? Or is there a hidden meaning in her youth?”
He grinned. “There is indeed. The reasons are twofold: first, her appearance is youthful and unintimidating - a useful ploy. She is small, fragile - the strengths we acquire here will hide under the innocence of her form.”
“Ah,” Ursa said, “I see. And the second reason?”
“The second is this,” he continued. “The son of Jor-El survived. He knows and trusts the vessel you now inhabit. He may even love her - that he desires her is without question. Search her memories and you will know this to be true.”
She did so, quickly and in a cursory manner, but it seemed that her husband was telling the truth. The son of Jor-El was here, and he knew her vessel - and his as well. Ursa Dru-Zod smiled. “Excellent.”
Dru-Zod moved away from her and she could see the light of a plan in his eyes. “What are you doing, my husband?” she asked.
He grinned as he did his work. “I have an idea, Ursa, a plan to further alienate the son of Jor-El from his human companions,” he said, his eyes still on his work. “To buy us a little more time in the midst of their confusion.”
She didn’t bother asking what the idea was; she could see the certainty in his face - whatever he was doing, it would work. “Vengeance is ours, then, husband?”
Dru-Zod turned back to her, pulling his hands from the console with a flourish. “Vengeance is very, very soon,” he replied, returning to her.
“Wonderful,” Ursa exclaimed and then pulled him towards her in another harsh, familiar kiss.
TBC