FIC: JLA: "Necessary Force" (Part 11 - "Mere Oblivion")
Hello, everyone!
Well, I did promise to try and post the next part to the story before week's end, and so, here it is! It's a shorter part than is typical for me, *blush*, but I hope you enjoy! (and that you forgive me for leaving you with such a cliffhanger last time! Heh.)
Thank you VERY much for the wonderful feedback in the last parts, everyone! It's been so humbling and completely lovely. *thanks!*
I'm in rather a tremendous hurry this evening, (just about to depart my hometown here for another town 3 1/2 hours to the south to visit my sister and niece, after being quite ill earlier in the day) so I'm afraid I'll have to postpone the usual crossposting/linking until tomorrow. (I beg your patience, dear friends! I will answer as soon as I can! But meanwhile, here's the chapter!) :-)
Title: JLA: Necessary Force - Part 11: "Mere Oblivion"
Author: Paxwolf
Fandom: JLA/Justice League
Rating: PG-13 (R in parts)
Warnings: Mature Situations, Language, Violence
Disclaimer: The JLA and its characters are owned by DC Comics and their parent company. Mine are owned by me. ;-)
Summary: When a powerful terrorist threatens the safety of the planet, the Justice League must go to extremes to stop him, and Superman and Batman may have to make the biggest sacrifice of all.
Summary of This Part: The bond between the League members is tested, as is Superman's own strength of purpose as he makes a difficult choice.
JLA
“Necessary Force”
By Paxwolf
Part X:
"Mere Oblivion"
It was dark, and it was warm.
It was blissfully silent, and no thoughts or emotions obscured the pervasive black.
There was nothing.
There was peace.
And then, as if from very far away, after an incalculable eternity, he imagined he heard a sound. He wasn’t sure.
Maybe it was a dream. He couldn’t have heard anything. Could he?
There it was again. What was it?
Again.
Was it a voice? Was that it? He thought perhaps he could hear a voice, calling to him, from far away.
But no, there was nothing, no one, in the endless darkness. He had imagined it.
He was alone.
He sank back into the void, encompassed in the absolute nothingness.
Then he thought he heard it yet again.
Annoyed, he tried to shove the small noise away, turning back again towards the peaceful blackness. For a moment, it seemed to have worked but then the voice, and this time he could tell it was a voice, came back, louder, clearer, and more insistent. He grumbled and swatted at the irritating sound with his mind. But it returned again, vociferously, loud enough to wake the dead, and more demanding.
Why wouldn’t it leave him alone?
He groaned, and tried again to shut the voice out, but failed miserably.
It called again, more vehemently, pervading every corner of the darkness, snaring his attention, demanding it.
Why couldn’t they leave him alone?
The voice seemed even sharper now, and more insistent than before.
He listened to it for the first time, irritated, wishing it would shut up.
He just wanted to sleep. Was that so wrong, when he was so completely worn out? Why was it his mother would never let him get enough sleep? Didn’t she realize growing, homework-laden teenagers needed rest too? And why did Pa always insist on rousing him up before the crack of dawn to do the chores? It was still completely dark. The farm rooster hadn’t even crowed yet.
But wait … no, that couldn’t be right. He frowned. His parents would call him Clark, and this voluble voice was calling …
“Kal-El!”
With a start, Superman became fully conscious, and with his return to awareness returned the fierce onslaught of cold pain.
Ungh ...
He reflexively drew in a breath of air, then instantly regretted it as it seared his near-frozen lungs, and gasped all over again in reaction, helplessly clutching at his chest.
God, that had hurt. He tried to raise his head, but didn't seem to have the wherewithal to even budge.
Where was he? What had happened? Whose voice had pulled him from the darkness?
He could feel the darkness dragging him down again, and for an instant, longed to go willingly.
“Kal-El!” came the voice again, sharply, as if in answer to his thought. “Awaken!”
The voice was commanding, unwavering, and this time sounded clearly, unmuddled, recognizable. But it was inside his head all the same.
“J-J’onn?” He had to struggle to form a coherent mental response.
“Thank H’ronmeer,” came the feeling of sweeping relief. “We thought we had lost you.”
J’onn’s mental touch was palpable with concern, flooding Superman’s numb mind with his soothing presence.
Superman tried hard to respond.
“J’onn, I … I c-can’t …”
“I know,” the familiar voice reassured. “It will be all right. Do not try so hard to think just now.”
“But … oh, god, J’onn. I …”
He could feel himself helplessly begin to panic. What had happened? Where was he?
“Sssh, Kal-El. It is all right. Concentrate on getting warm. It is very important you do that. Come now, Kal, warm yourself up.”
“I … don’t think … I …can …”
He could feel himself shuddering uncontrollably. The cold was piercing, and he felt like his entire body was being stabbed all over, inside and out.
“You can. You must.”
“No … energy … so … so cold …”
“You have to try, Kal-El. If you do not, you will slip away completely, and no amount of telepathic contact will pull back from the abyss. You must try.”
“I … please …”
Even the effort of simply keeping awake and conscious, of fighting down the cold and pain was exhausting Superman further. The cold itself seemed almost like a living, malignant thing, a vicious, icy enemy that sapped at his very life force. He could feel himself slipping down again, his very being wanting to curl up in the waves of deceptive warmth, away from the agony.
It would be so easy to surrender to its siren call, its all-encompassing draw. All too easy …
“No, Kal! Do not go to sleep!"
I ... I want ... I'm ... going ...
"No! Stay with me!”
With great difficulty, Superman roused himself again, trying to breathe less shallowly. But it hurt. A hell of a lot. “I’m … trying. So … so tired, J’onn.”
“You have to fight it, Kal-El. You must move! You must survive!”
“I want to … I … but I …don’t know … how … I …I can’t …”
“YOU CAN.” The mental voice was nearly screaming now, and seemed to give an impression of heaving breaths. Then it tried for a different tact. “You can do it, my friend. And not for just yourself. Those people, the hostages … they’re counting on you. The children - they’re praying for you, Superman! They need you." There was a mental swallow, and then the feeling of desperation surged again. "We need you!”
You ... and oh Rao, the children ...
In his mind’s eye, Superman suddenly pictured the helpless victims of Ayestrom’s mad bid for tyranny. Their frightened faces, the innocence sullied by this monster ...
He saw again the tear-stained face of the little girl from the bus broadcast, clutching at the teacher who had tried to protect her.
No ...
He heard himself growling, low in his throat, and dredged up from somewhere a renewed determination, a new strength from unknown depths.
“They need you, Kal. The League needs you. The very world needs you.”
And he saw, plain as day, a vision of his teammates, each of them looking to him, each trying to send him their strength, and their warmth. Wally, Kyle, Arthur, Dinah, Eel, Barbara, and then the others, with J’onn focussing their drive, their power, their care for him, for me?? binding them all together, and Diana shining there, brilliant and loving and commanding he come back to them, and so strong, so very strong … and largest and brightest of all stood Bruce, gazing back at him with a fire hotter than the sun in his eyes, a force of will lighting up inside him like a beacon against the darkness, refusing with every ounce of his being to let him go.
Bruce ... He swallowed. Diana ... everyone ... I ...
“J’onn … I … I will …”
"You can do it, Kal-El," J'onn encouraged him, and it was if Superman could feel the Martian's own terrific willpower gathering up those of his friends, and pouring it into him.
Shuddering, Superman struggled to remember what heat felt like.
The sun ... I have ... to ... the sun ... the sun ...
He focussed his mental will on images of Sol, the source from which his alien cells drew his power and abilities. Layer by layer, he built the memory of Earth’s yellow star in his mind, in his will, in his very soul. He tried to remember it, tried to remember its heat, its light, its energy and power. He drowned everything else out, the cold, the fear, the pain, even J’onn’s pleading, urging voice.
There ...
He saw the sun.
He could touch the sun.
He could feel its fire …
He abruptly felt a prickling burning in his eyes, and then a strange sensation of wetness as the sheen of ice over his eyes suddenly melted and cascaded over his face. His frozen gaze now flared and crackled, as if a spark had suddenly been struck from deep inside. Gritting his iced-over teeth with the effort, he managed to fully activate his heat vision at last and slowly began to direct it against his own body.
“Yes. YES! That’s it, Kal-El,” sounded J’onn’s ecstatic response in his mind. “You are doing it. Keep going, my friend.”
“I’m … trying …”
As Superman began to warm up, painfully slowly, concentrating with every ounce of willpower he possessed on generating heat, his internal organs and cells themselves seemed to re-ignite, drawing energy from the very air around him, though not nearly as sufficiently than if he’d been in actual sunlight.
So ... hard ... but I can't ... give up ... I mustn't ... stop ...
But the prolonged use of heat vision to thaw his frozen systems was a terrific strain on every part of him, and Superman was forced to finally stop. He collapsed against the wall, drained of all strength, his clothes soaked to the skin in cold moisture.
He realized he was shivering violently
That's ... a good ... sign ... I think ....
He drew a shaky breath.
He would live, but it still felt like he would never be warm again in his life.
"You are going to be fine," soothed J'onn's voice, and in its echo he could feel the relief pouring out from the League. "You did it."
I ... did it. With all your help, my friends ...
Superman opened his eyes, scrubbing out the crusted tears, and blinked until he could see more clearly. He peered blearily around, seeing that he had indeed succeeded in making it around the corridor’s corner, and with no pursuers or soldiers in sight. He closed his eyes again, still trying to recover breath in burning lungs.
“Guess I really did go round the bend,” he sighed, and even his mental voice was merely a whisper.
J’onn seemed to harrumph, but the feeling of relief and slowly calming terror still emanated from him. “You did well.”
Superman shook his head.
“It was you. Thank you, J’onn. If you hadn’t …”
“I had little choice." The mental voice was very gentle. "When I felt your residual presence fading away from my hold, I had to act, no matter the cost.”
He opened his eyes. “And … do you sense Ayestrom? Or any …?”
“No … not precisely. But there is something, a sort of peculiar blankness hovering nearby, as if masking something unknown. Or someone.”
“Someone?”
“Perhaps. I cannot pinpoint the source or its properties.”
“Then you’d better vacate immed-“
“Kal-El. What in the name of Mars were you thinking?”
Superman winced at the mental backlash. There was no mistaking the anger. And he could have sworn he felt similar waves of emotion from Batman through J’onn’s link.
“I …”
“You very nearly killed yourself. It was a most foolhardy and dangerous risk…”
“And what else would you have had me do?” Superman retorted, ire rising in his frustration. He could feel sensation slowly begin to return to his extremities as pinpricks of flame tore through his hands and feet. He gritted his teeth against it. “I had to escape and I could determine no other recourse.”
There was a pause, before J’onn’s presence returned, so strong in force that Superman flinched. “Batman informs me that ... he wishes to tell you that next time, take out the guards. There is more than one way to prevent knowledge of your being there from reaching their boss.”
Superman’s mouth thinned.
“Well, tell Mr. Pointy Ears that next time he finds himself in like circumstance he’s more than welcome to try his own methods.” As if bodies or missing sentries wouldn’t have left just as clear a trail, he added to himself, forgetting that J’onn could still read him. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“Kal-El, try to understand. He was … we were concerned for you … and your mission.”
Superman did understand, only all too well. If any of the others had been in his shoes, and he in theirs … he sighed. “Yeah. All right. I know. Tell them … it was worth it. The hostages are here, no question. And they’re alive. And thanks to you, J’onn, so am I." He drew another trembling breath and attempted to rearrange his tangled limbs. He could barely stir. "I’m on my way out. Don’t lose hope.”
“I shall not. You have done well, my friend,” J’onn said softly. “Now come back to us. Preferably all in one piece.”
“I’ll do my level best. Believe me.” He paused a moment, and with a terrible effort managed to move his legs. “Don’t you give up on me.”
J’onn chuckled in his mind. “Never.”
“Now get out of here. Before Ayestrom or his telepathic lackeys over-reads everything we’re thinking.”
“Very well," J'onn returned reluctantly. "If you are certain you can stay awake?”
Superman mustered a bit more strength and tried to grin. He still couldn’t control the trembling, but there was no way in hell he was going to fall asleep again. He summoned an erg of energy to wrestle to his pins-and-needles-afflicted knees, then, after a few harsh breaths, to his feet. He hugged himself, wishing vainly for a hot bath and some dry, clean clothes.
“I’m positive. As much as I wish we could maintain contact … just … just go now, J’onn. We’ve already risked too much. Just go. I’ll be fine.”
Superman felt J’onn’s reluctant acquiescence, knowing he was not fooling his Martian teammate whatsoever. But they really had little choice in the matter.
“H’ronmeer be with you, Kal,” J’onn said quietly, the mental touch fading. “Be well.”
Superman felt J’onn’s presence slip from his mind, and shivered violently, unable to help himself. All at once he felt colder and more alone than ever.
Bruce … Diana, J’onn … he thought wistfully, lend me your strength!
Still hugging his arms tightly to himself, he began to stumble slowly off into the dark room beyond the corridor and hopefully towards the next level. Never had the rat maze metaphor seemed so mercilessly appropriate.
As he struggled on, one foot plodding in front of the other, the loneliness seemed to be a tangible living thing, crushing him in its cold emptiness.
Please, oh dear Lord, he suddenly thought as he staggered on, startled by the prayer in his heart before he realized it was even there. Or Rao … or Jesus, or … or however You might be called here. Please help those people, those poor children, these innocents! Help me save them. Please find a way to help them if I can’t. He shut his eyes tightly. Help us protect the whole world!
Although not a particularly religious man, and rarely a prayerful one, Superman possessed a deeply inherent spirituality, and certainly believed in a power higher than himself. And he was distinctively getting the feeling that the League would never succeed in either their rescue mission or the battle against Ayestrom’s forces without some sort of divine grace being sent their way.
And so, fighting despair and struggling for the strength just to keep going, and to not succumb to the tearing cold or the numbing exhaustion, he walked on, and prayed.
-----
To be Continued.
All Previous Parts can be found HERE, at the Main Page.
Well, I did promise to try and post the next part to the story before week's end, and so, here it is! It's a shorter part than is typical for me, *blush*, but I hope you enjoy! (and that you forgive me for leaving you with such a cliffhanger last time! Heh.)
Thank you VERY much for the wonderful feedback in the last parts, everyone! It's been so humbling and completely lovely. *thanks!*
I'm in rather a tremendous hurry this evening, (just about to depart my hometown here for another town 3 1/2 hours to the south to visit my sister and niece, after being quite ill earlier in the day) so I'm afraid I'll have to postpone the usual crossposting/linking until tomorrow. (I beg your patience, dear friends! I will answer as soon as I can! But meanwhile, here's the chapter!) :-)
Title: JLA: Necessary Force - Part 11: "Mere Oblivion"
Author: Paxwolf
Fandom: JLA/Justice League
Rating: PG-13 (R in parts)
Warnings: Mature Situations, Language, Violence
Disclaimer: The JLA and its characters are owned by DC Comics and their parent company. Mine are owned by me. ;-)
Summary: When a powerful terrorist threatens the safety of the planet, the Justice League must go to extremes to stop him, and Superman and Batman may have to make the biggest sacrifice of all.
Summary of This Part: The bond between the League members is tested, as is Superman's own strength of purpose as he makes a difficult choice.
JLA
“Necessary Force”
By Paxwolf
Part X:
"Mere Oblivion"
It was dark, and it was warm.
It was blissfully silent, and no thoughts or emotions obscured the pervasive black.
There was nothing.
There was peace.
And then, as if from very far away, after an incalculable eternity, he imagined he heard a sound. He wasn’t sure.
Maybe it was a dream. He couldn’t have heard anything. Could he?
There it was again. What was it?
Again.
Was it a voice? Was that it? He thought perhaps he could hear a voice, calling to him, from far away.
But no, there was nothing, no one, in the endless darkness. He had imagined it.
He was alone.
He sank back into the void, encompassed in the absolute nothingness.
Then he thought he heard it yet again.
Annoyed, he tried to shove the small noise away, turning back again towards the peaceful blackness. For a moment, it seemed to have worked but then the voice, and this time he could tell it was a voice, came back, louder, clearer, and more insistent. He grumbled and swatted at the irritating sound with his mind. But it returned again, vociferously, loud enough to wake the dead, and more demanding.
Why wouldn’t it leave him alone?
He groaned, and tried again to shut the voice out, but failed miserably.
It called again, more vehemently, pervading every corner of the darkness, snaring his attention, demanding it.
Why couldn’t they leave him alone?
The voice seemed even sharper now, and more insistent than before.
He listened to it for the first time, irritated, wishing it would shut up.
He just wanted to sleep. Was that so wrong, when he was so completely worn out? Why was it his mother would never let him get enough sleep? Didn’t she realize growing, homework-laden teenagers needed rest too? And why did Pa always insist on rousing him up before the crack of dawn to do the chores? It was still completely dark. The farm rooster hadn’t even crowed yet.
But wait … no, that couldn’t be right. He frowned. His parents would call him Clark, and this voluble voice was calling …
“Kal-El!”
With a start, Superman became fully conscious, and with his return to awareness returned the fierce onslaught of cold pain.
Ungh ...
He reflexively drew in a breath of air, then instantly regretted it as it seared his near-frozen lungs, and gasped all over again in reaction, helplessly clutching at his chest.
God, that had hurt. He tried to raise his head, but didn't seem to have the wherewithal to even budge.
Where was he? What had happened? Whose voice had pulled him from the darkness?
He could feel the darkness dragging him down again, and for an instant, longed to go willingly.
“Kal-El!” came the voice again, sharply, as if in answer to his thought. “Awaken!”
The voice was commanding, unwavering, and this time sounded clearly, unmuddled, recognizable. But it was inside his head all the same.
“J-J’onn?” He had to struggle to form a coherent mental response.
“Thank H’ronmeer,” came the feeling of sweeping relief. “We thought we had lost you.”
J’onn’s mental touch was palpable with concern, flooding Superman’s numb mind with his soothing presence.
Superman tried hard to respond.
“J’onn, I … I c-can’t …”
“I know,” the familiar voice reassured. “It will be all right. Do not try so hard to think just now.”
“But … oh, god, J’onn. I …”
He could feel himself helplessly begin to panic. What had happened? Where was he?
“Sssh, Kal-El. It is all right. Concentrate on getting warm. It is very important you do that. Come now, Kal, warm yourself up.”
“I … don’t think … I …can …”
He could feel himself shuddering uncontrollably. The cold was piercing, and he felt like his entire body was being stabbed all over, inside and out.
“You can. You must.”
“No … energy … so … so cold …”
“You have to try, Kal-El. If you do not, you will slip away completely, and no amount of telepathic contact will pull back from the abyss. You must try.”
“I … please …”
Even the effort of simply keeping awake and conscious, of fighting down the cold and pain was exhausting Superman further. The cold itself seemed almost like a living, malignant thing, a vicious, icy enemy that sapped at his very life force. He could feel himself slipping down again, his very being wanting to curl up in the waves of deceptive warmth, away from the agony.
It would be so easy to surrender to its siren call, its all-encompassing draw. All too easy …
“No, Kal! Do not go to sleep!"
I ... I want ... I'm ... going ...
"No! Stay with me!”
With great difficulty, Superman roused himself again, trying to breathe less shallowly. But it hurt. A hell of a lot. “I’m … trying. So … so tired, J’onn.”
“You have to fight it, Kal-El. You must move! You must survive!”
“I want to … I … but I …don’t know … how … I …I can’t …”
“YOU CAN.” The mental voice was nearly screaming now, and seemed to give an impression of heaving breaths. Then it tried for a different tact. “You can do it, my friend. And not for just yourself. Those people, the hostages … they’re counting on you. The children - they’re praying for you, Superman! They need you." There was a mental swallow, and then the feeling of desperation surged again. "We need you!”
You ... and oh Rao, the children ...
In his mind’s eye, Superman suddenly pictured the helpless victims of Ayestrom’s mad bid for tyranny. Their frightened faces, the innocence sullied by this monster ...
He saw again the tear-stained face of the little girl from the bus broadcast, clutching at the teacher who had tried to protect her.
No ...
He heard himself growling, low in his throat, and dredged up from somewhere a renewed determination, a new strength from unknown depths.
“They need you, Kal. The League needs you. The very world needs you.”
And he saw, plain as day, a vision of his teammates, each of them looking to him, each trying to send him their strength, and their warmth. Wally, Kyle, Arthur, Dinah, Eel, Barbara, and then the others, with J’onn focussing their drive, their power, their care for him, for me?? binding them all together, and Diana shining there, brilliant and loving and commanding he come back to them, and so strong, so very strong … and largest and brightest of all stood Bruce, gazing back at him with a fire hotter than the sun in his eyes, a force of will lighting up inside him like a beacon against the darkness, refusing with every ounce of his being to let him go.
Bruce ... He swallowed. Diana ... everyone ... I ...
“J’onn … I … I will …”
"You can do it, Kal-El," J'onn encouraged him, and it was if Superman could feel the Martian's own terrific willpower gathering up those of his friends, and pouring it into him.
Shuddering, Superman struggled to remember what heat felt like.
The sun ... I have ... to ... the sun ... the sun ...
He focussed his mental will on images of Sol, the source from which his alien cells drew his power and abilities. Layer by layer, he built the memory of Earth’s yellow star in his mind, in his will, in his very soul. He tried to remember it, tried to remember its heat, its light, its energy and power. He drowned everything else out, the cold, the fear, the pain, even J’onn’s pleading, urging voice.
There ...
He saw the sun.
He could touch the sun.
He could feel its fire …
He abruptly felt a prickling burning in his eyes, and then a strange sensation of wetness as the sheen of ice over his eyes suddenly melted and cascaded over his face. His frozen gaze now flared and crackled, as if a spark had suddenly been struck from deep inside. Gritting his iced-over teeth with the effort, he managed to fully activate his heat vision at last and slowly began to direct it against his own body.
“Yes. YES! That’s it, Kal-El,” sounded J’onn’s ecstatic response in his mind. “You are doing it. Keep going, my friend.”
“I’m … trying …”
As Superman began to warm up, painfully slowly, concentrating with every ounce of willpower he possessed on generating heat, his internal organs and cells themselves seemed to re-ignite, drawing energy from the very air around him, though not nearly as sufficiently than if he’d been in actual sunlight.
So ... hard ... but I can't ... give up ... I mustn't ... stop ...
But the prolonged use of heat vision to thaw his frozen systems was a terrific strain on every part of him, and Superman was forced to finally stop. He collapsed against the wall, drained of all strength, his clothes soaked to the skin in cold moisture.
He realized he was shivering violently
That's ... a good ... sign ... I think ....
He drew a shaky breath.
He would live, but it still felt like he would never be warm again in his life.
"You are going to be fine," soothed J'onn's voice, and in its echo he could feel the relief pouring out from the League. "You did it."
I ... did it. With all your help, my friends ...
Superman opened his eyes, scrubbing out the crusted tears, and blinked until he could see more clearly. He peered blearily around, seeing that he had indeed succeeded in making it around the corridor’s corner, and with no pursuers or soldiers in sight. He closed his eyes again, still trying to recover breath in burning lungs.
“Guess I really did go round the bend,” he sighed, and even his mental voice was merely a whisper.
J’onn seemed to harrumph, but the feeling of relief and slowly calming terror still emanated from him. “You did well.”
Superman shook his head.
“It was you. Thank you, J’onn. If you hadn’t …”
“I had little choice." The mental voice was very gentle. "When I felt your residual presence fading away from my hold, I had to act, no matter the cost.”
He opened his eyes. “And … do you sense Ayestrom? Or any …?”
“No … not precisely. But there is something, a sort of peculiar blankness hovering nearby, as if masking something unknown. Or someone.”
“Someone?”
“Perhaps. I cannot pinpoint the source or its properties.”
“Then you’d better vacate immed-“
“Kal-El. What in the name of Mars were you thinking?”
Superman winced at the mental backlash. There was no mistaking the anger. And he could have sworn he felt similar waves of emotion from Batman through J’onn’s link.
“I …”
“You very nearly killed yourself. It was a most foolhardy and dangerous risk…”
“And what else would you have had me do?” Superman retorted, ire rising in his frustration. He could feel sensation slowly begin to return to his extremities as pinpricks of flame tore through his hands and feet. He gritted his teeth against it. “I had to escape and I could determine no other recourse.”
There was a pause, before J’onn’s presence returned, so strong in force that Superman flinched. “Batman informs me that ... he wishes to tell you that next time, take out the guards. There is more than one way to prevent knowledge of your being there from reaching their boss.”
Superman’s mouth thinned.
“Well, tell Mr. Pointy Ears that next time he finds himself in like circumstance he’s more than welcome to try his own methods.” As if bodies or missing sentries wouldn’t have left just as clear a trail, he added to himself, forgetting that J’onn could still read him. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“Kal-El, try to understand. He was … we were concerned for you … and your mission.”
Superman did understand, only all too well. If any of the others had been in his shoes, and he in theirs … he sighed. “Yeah. All right. I know. Tell them … it was worth it. The hostages are here, no question. And they’re alive. And thanks to you, J’onn, so am I." He drew another trembling breath and attempted to rearrange his tangled limbs. He could barely stir. "I’m on my way out. Don’t lose hope.”
“I shall not. You have done well, my friend,” J’onn said softly. “Now come back to us. Preferably all in one piece.”
“I’ll do my level best. Believe me.” He paused a moment, and with a terrible effort managed to move his legs. “Don’t you give up on me.”
J’onn chuckled in his mind. “Never.”
“Now get out of here. Before Ayestrom or his telepathic lackeys over-reads everything we’re thinking.”
“Very well," J'onn returned reluctantly. "If you are certain you can stay awake?”
Superman mustered a bit more strength and tried to grin. He still couldn’t control the trembling, but there was no way in hell he was going to fall asleep again. He summoned an erg of energy to wrestle to his pins-and-needles-afflicted knees, then, after a few harsh breaths, to his feet. He hugged himself, wishing vainly for a hot bath and some dry, clean clothes.
“I’m positive. As much as I wish we could maintain contact … just … just go now, J’onn. We’ve already risked too much. Just go. I’ll be fine.”
Superman felt J’onn’s reluctant acquiescence, knowing he was not fooling his Martian teammate whatsoever. But they really had little choice in the matter.
“H’ronmeer be with you, Kal,” J’onn said quietly, the mental touch fading. “Be well.”
Superman felt J’onn’s presence slip from his mind, and shivered violently, unable to help himself. All at once he felt colder and more alone than ever.
Bruce … Diana, J’onn … he thought wistfully, lend me your strength!
Still hugging his arms tightly to himself, he began to stumble slowly off into the dark room beyond the corridor and hopefully towards the next level. Never had the rat maze metaphor seemed so mercilessly appropriate.
As he struggled on, one foot plodding in front of the other, the loneliness seemed to be a tangible living thing, crushing him in its cold emptiness.
Please, oh dear Lord, he suddenly thought as he staggered on, startled by the prayer in his heart before he realized it was even there. Or Rao … or Jesus, or … or however You might be called here. Please help those people, those poor children, these innocents! Help me save them. Please find a way to help them if I can’t. He shut his eyes tightly. Help us protect the whole world!
Although not a particularly religious man, and rarely a prayerful one, Superman possessed a deeply inherent spirituality, and certainly believed in a power higher than himself. And he was distinctively getting the feeling that the League would never succeed in either their rescue mission or the battle against Ayestrom’s forces without some sort of divine grace being sent their way.
And so, fighting despair and struggling for the strength just to keep going, and to not succumb to the tearing cold or the numbing exhaustion, he walked on, and prayed.
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To be Continued.
All Previous Parts can be found HERE, at the Main Page.