Archive of Our Own ^beta

She's been awake almost an hour, since the first hints of the sunrise. Sleeping seems overrated these days. She never truly sleeps anyhow. Most nights she simply turns off her thoughts and stares blankly at the ceiling.

There's a knock on her door. It's not a courtesy; it's a command. She sits up and swings her legs over the side of her bed. Sleeping in her clothes cuts down on her morning routine. It only takes her three steps to reach the door. She wants to stay hidden behind it. Or better yet, open it and run. Run through the halls, run out the gates, run down the road. She can't.

She steps into the hall and nods at the guards. He insists on having her escorted everywhere, says it's for her protection. She knows the reality of it. He doesn't trust her, and he's right not to.

Given the opportunity, she would destroy him. She's spent many hours imagining the look on his face as the walls of this prison fell upon him. Of course, the falling of physical walls would be of no consequence to him. The failing walls of his power, though, that would be a sight. She knows it's a silly dream. He's indestructible. At least, by her hand.

As she is led down the hall, they pass a window. The Earth on the other side of the glass glows red and orange. Even after a year, her heart still clenches in her chest at the sight. She can see smoke rising in the distance. Smoke means flames. The land is so dry, it's a wonder she can see any structures still standing on the horizon.

They stop at the double doors leading into what was once her office. The guards pull open the doors for her to pass through. The sight of a familiar brunette stops her dead. She had assumed the other woman was dead, as had many others.

She feels herself begin to hope. Her arrival had to have meaning. A change, something big, was coming.

Movement draws her attention to the other side of the room. His face is bruised and dirty. Tess hasn't seen him in months. Knowing he's alive still should be comforting. It's not.

He rushes forward to the brunette. The raw emotion on his face cuts through Tess's heart. She looks away from them, walks forward to take her place at the side of the man in control. Her guilt has no place here. She must be strong.

Chloe paces back and forth in the tight confines of the tunnel. Lois is alive. She takes a shaky breath and tries to focus. They have to move fast. She grabs her jacket off the table, slipping her arms thought the sleeves. She hasn't seen sunlight in weeks. Her lip quivers; she hasn't seen 'real' sunlight in over a year.

Her companion, the only person she truly trusts gives her an update. This news makes her brow creases. Her mind rewinds a few months. Her chest tightens. She doesn't want to take out her frustration on the messenger, her one true friend. She turns and walks a few feet away, before she let's her mind focus on what he has said.

She hasn't heard this name, his name in months. He's with Lois. As much as she yearns to see him, to hold him, she frowns. Their last face-to-face is hauled up to the front of her thoughts. He chose to leave. He made the choice to walk away from her, from them.

Her partner hands her a few weapons. She places them on herself and pulls on her toboggan, wrapping a scarf around her neck. They had to go now. Saving Lois was the only thing that mattered now. Him being there was of no importance. Of course, they would bring him back with them, if he would come. But that didn't mean she would have to forgive him. Not yet.

Things were about to change. This is what they had been preparing for. This is what her beautiful blonde friend had trained her for. They are the resistance. They are humanity's last hope. She wants to dig deeper into the ground, to hide from the reality around them. It's a selfish desire. She isn't selfish, not ultimately. A hand squeezes her shoulder, and she nods. It's time to move.

They hurry through the underground tunnels. At the very last opportunity they climb to the surface. She knows the area where they emerge well, her hometown. Her throat is dry. Home is a concept of the past. There are no longer signs to tell you where you are, what corner you stand on.

They stay off the roads, keep to any shadows there are left. It takes them longer than she liked to reach the gates. They are both up and over the gates in seconds. Each of them knows their own route, and they disperse. She heads straight forward, taking a sharp left only ten feet from the rock walls. The giant stone structure had always been a dark place, but it seems even darker with the red glow illuminating it.

She reaches the pipe she needs and grabs hold of it, pulling her herself up. She puts hand over hand, pulling from all her physical training. Two stories above ground she swings her legs over onto the small ledge and pulls out a glass-cutting tool. After making a hold large enough for her to squeeze though, she finds herself on the second story balcony in the Mansion's office.

Chloe hesitates before peering over the ledge. There he is, beaten and bleeding. Her heart lurches, smashing into her ribs. She is still angry at him, but years of love come rushing back and she knows, they will resolve their issues.

Oliver has a clear view of Chloe from his own hiding place. He knows his eyes should be trained below, on the impending deaths. He can't pull his gaze away from her face, the love evident there.

Watching them fight had nearly broken his own heart. He had been her savior for years, and suddenly he was not, could not be, and refused to be. At the time, Oliver had stood back, let them hash it out. Now he wished he'd said something, anything, to defend her.

He remembers the look, the lost deprivation in his eyes as he'd yelled scornfully at their small blonde confidante. Oliver had understood much of his pain, but he should have had her back. Maybe together they could have convinced him to stay, to train with them.

Now, she is staring down at him, his arms wrapped around the main cause of his self-destruction. Chloe smiles and Oliver knows everything has changed. He can feel the one thing they'd been lacking in months. Hope.

His eyes darted to the lower level and his two friends being ripped apart. A sword is drawn and he pulls the arrow tight, only letting it fly once his aim is precise. Green illuminates the room from all angles. He jumps over the railing, landing in a roll below. He is attacked immediately, but gains the upper hand quickly. The fight is quick.

He hears a whoosh past his head and follows the sound. He watches as it hits the only red-head in the room, square in the chest. She has no chance. He doesn't understand why, but he feels his heart shatter. She made her choice, she chose the darkness. Yet, he finds himself running to her side. He cradles her in his lap.

Feet stop beside him and he follows the legs up to a face and frowns deeper. Tears gather in his eyes, falling onto his cheeks. He hears her excuse, not apology, before she walks away, pulling her toboggan off to reveal her short cropped blonde hair.

He hadn't admitted it, even to himself, but he had hoped to save her. He had wanted to pull her away today, to show her what a huge mistake she had made. It was too late. He was too late. She took her last breath in his arms.

Before she closed her eyes, he could see the remorse in them and he sobbed. Around her neck hung the symbol of her betrayal. She had finally gotten the approval of the maniac faulted with this reality. All it had gotten her was a quick death.

Glancing around the room he realizes their targets have scattered. He stands, gathering Tess's limp, lifeless body in his arms and stalks out of the room. He hears footsteps behind him, but does not acknowledge them. He sobs silently, the tears streaming endlessly down his face.

He walks and doesn't stop until they are in an open field, miles away. There is no more grass, nothing green. The entire landscape is desert now. He tries to remember how many allies he's buried here. He's lost count.

He gently lays the body in his arms down and walks to a small bump in the ground. He kicks at it and it shifts. He pulls away the cover and reveals a few tools. Shovel in hand, he digs.

Of all the horrors she's experienced, had to endure, there's only one image she cannot shake. Chloe's cold, averted eyes, unable to make contact with his. All the things these two have pushed through, side-by-side, and now, unable to look upon each other? This place she'd ended up, it truly was apocalyptic. Chloe hadn't even acknowledged his thanks; she'd just turned and walked away from him in silence.

The tension had been too hard for Lois to handle, so she had followed Oliver to bury Tess. Somehow, life lost was easier to face than love lost. She watched dirt fall and cover over the body, her mind focused on what could have happened to bury the strongest relationship, partnership, she'd ever encountered.

Oliver had led her to an abandoned house, telling her Clark was upstairs. She had hesitated before climbing the stairs to the second floor. She hesitated still outside the only closed door. Her heart was pounding. Her mind replaying everything, visions danced around all out of order. The stoic look on her cousin's face as he'd spoken haunted her most of all.

Pushing at the door, she hears the splash of water. He stands over a bowl, water dripping from his face as he reaches for a cloth. She steps forward, him wiping away the droplets and stepping toward her.

Lois remembers the harsh accusing words Chloe had spat at him; she didn't trust him. They were all standing around a table discussing their next move. He had openly admitted his mistake. Chloe was adamant about her distrust, but the blonde had no choice other than to go along with his plan. Lois still didn't completely grasp the cryptic conversation she'd been privy to.

He comes to a stop in front of her, his eyes openly expressing emotions she never expected to see focused toward her. His stare is intense. So much tension surfaces between them, she has to remind herself to breathe. His question of her well-being is heartfelt and she replies, true to her nature, a little sarcastically. She even manages to throw the biggest question in her rattled mind in to that reply. He stills, his muscles tightening. She wonders absently why he has to be shirtless, it's so distracting.

He admits fault, yet again, this time giving further explanation. 'I died when you left,' had not been words she could have ever dreamed up. The emotion and sincerity that reverberated in those words caught her off guard. She closes the gap between them, small as it may be, gently placing a hand on his chest. She reassures him of her presence here with him now.

Her hand still on his chest, she feels a large part of the tension leave his body. Their gazes are connected, reflecting all openly. She should feel exposed, but feels only deep contentment. He shifts his weight, leans his head down. Her heart skips a beat as his lips press against hers.

Lois never knew a set of lips could be a haven, but as he deepens the kiss, she is forced to the realization. He is all that matters. She has hidden her true feelings since their regretful almost-kiss at Chloe's disastrous wedding. All the love she's worked hard to mask bursts through her walls.

Clark stands at a corner of Watchtower's shadow, waiting. His thoughts are lost in memories of his morning, a morning he's spent wrapped around Lois; the two of them wishing they could stay there, tangled together indefinitely. A pain in his gut cuts through the mental images. He hates that his mistakes are so unforgivable. Today is his last chance to do something that has even the slightest redeeming capability.

He hears voices yelling, runs to the next street over, and stops. The image before him is too much to fathom. His throat closes up, his breathing halts. Lois is kneeling over the truest friend he has ever had. Chloe's body is so still, he blinks back burning tears. He's more determined now. Saving Chloe means sending Lois back to the past to fix all his mistakes. Oliver is yelling at Lois, telling her these same things and she's suddenly up, running.

He speeds after her, past her, and stop in the middle of the street, waiting. Zod appears, his powers not gone yet, and tries to carry on a conversation. Clark is far beyond talking. He has only one goal. He catches a glimpse of Lois hiding behind a long abandoned car.

He knows the yellow sun is on its way, only moments from giving him his full strength. Zod strikes him across the face, sending him through the air. The landing hurts, and Clark barely manages to pull himself up to his knees. He hears his name as Lois yells at him. She's tossing the dagger Oliver gave her across the road to him.

Zod grabs a handful of Clark's shirt, his foot landing over the blade. Zod pulls Clark up to eye level. He feels himself begin to straighten, his posture improving. He looks to the sky, the warmth of a yellow sun welcoming him. The sore muscles, the bruises, the broken skin all heals.

He doesn't see the blade in Zod's other hand. With all his strength, he throws Zod, flinging him through the dry air and out of sight. He lowers his gaze to the ground and drops to his knees in agony. Lois is there, her hand on his arm, and he smiles as he pulls the dagger from his abdomen.

He has the ring, pulled it from Zod before throwing him away like the trash he is. He pushes it into her hand telling her to put it on. She's shaking her head 'no'. She's seen too much, lost too much. He knows she's their planet's only hope now. She's worried she'll never see him again, but he knows that isn't true.

As the ring slips onto her hand, he leans against her, ignoring the agonizing pain from the blade, and presses his lips against hers. In that moment, as he's striving to convey all the unspoken words between them in a single kiss as she's disappearing from him, he knows everything will be okay. He knows he is right to put all his trust and faith in her. She is, and always will be, his savior.