“I hope you’re right about this,” Pete said in a tight voice, “’cause I’d hate to think we dodged three patrols and a helicopter for nothing.” He crouched low in the bushes outside the cemetery, seeming to blend in with the shadows effortlessly. Clark was crouched beside him, feeling conspicuous and out in the open. Pete had led them unerringly across half the town, knowing the usual patrol routes and avoiding them easily. With Clark’s senses, they’d also been able to dodge a few unexpected surprises along the way.

“That makes two of us,” Clark muttered.

“So your Lana’s always been hung up about her parents? And our one loves hunting us down and doing Lionel’s dirty work.” Pete smiled grimly. “Why’d we get the good one, huh?” Clark didn’t say anything, just stared ahead. Pete glanced at him and then looked out again, shrugging. “You sure she’s going to come here?”

“If she’s upset, or confused, she’ll come here. The Lana I know would,” Clark told him softly.

“Would the Lana you know hold a gun to your head?” Pete asked him frankly.

“I hope not.”

“Good,” Pete told him, his voice hardly carrying the few feet between them, “because I think I just saw her. There,” he pointed, “looks like she was behind some crypts.” Clark followed his finger and nodded as he saw her. She was standing still, holding onto the wall of a crypt. It was too far to see her face, but somehow he knew it was her. He started to get up when Pete grabbed his hand.

“Wait, do you have any idea what you’re going to do? Are you just going to grab her or…”

“I’m going to talk to her,” he hissed quietly. “Someone has to.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that worked so well before, right? Look, she might be alone now, but if you just walk up to her, she’ll call everyone in a ten mile radius down on us. Just hit her before she knows what’s happening. You can have your heart to heart later.” Clark stared at him for a moment and then pulled out of his grasp roughly. “Dammit, wait!” Pete hissed, but Clark ignored him and kept going.

Lana stared at her parents’ graves silently, unable to think of a thing to say to them. It helped, she’d found, to think of them as still here, that they could hear her when she talked to them. When she’d been younger, she’d come here as often as Lionel would allow her; to tell them of what was happening, what she was doing with herself. It had been bittersweet comfort, setting her mind at ease but always leaving her with a cold, hollow feeling inside.

She shivered as the night wind blew through the cemetery, making her rub her arms lightly. Parting her lips, she started slowly. “Hello. I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing back here. I know I haven’t been in a while.” How long had it been since she’d visited them, she wondered. A year, years? Things had been confusing lately, time seemed to pass by so quickly for her, and sometimes she wondered why she felt she had nothing to show for it. “I guess it’s been a lot longer than I thought.”

“You like the uniform,” she tried to smile, but her face betrayed her. Commander of the LuthorCorps, how about that?” she asked, her voice cracking. “I worked so hard for it. I told you, right? I think I told you.” Something started to pound in her head and she touched her temples lightly. “No, I told… Dr. Crane about it, and you… He said something about both of you… and Mr. Luthor…,” she stopped, squeezing her eyes shut. The pain spiked as she groped for the thought, but she wouldn’t let it go. She reached for it and suddenly it was there. “Duty! Duty,” she breathed out. “It was about duty.”

“I owe everything to you,” she whispered. “You loved me, and then you weren’t there anymore. He took you away.” She sniffed and looked away, closing her eyes. “I wanted to go with you so badly.” The wind whistled by her again, but this time she didn’t shiver, she was reliving the past, fourteen years ago.

I was all alone, she thought, and then he was there, Lionel, Mr. Luthor. A man as big and as powerful as her father had always seemed to her. He’d brought her out of the darkness, given the entire world back to her. But of course, he couldn’t give her back everything. No, it was too late for that.

He’d come to her again one day, right at this spot, crying at her parents grave. She’d still been young, small enough for him to lift her up and brush the tears from her face. He’d told her how sorry he was for her parents, but that he might have a way for her to make it better. How, she’d asked. He’d laughed then and kissed her on the cheek. Then he’d asked, what do you remember about that day?

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Even now, deep in her thoughts, she shuddered as she remembered. There had been fire and smoke, the entire sky screaming like it was being torn apart. And in the midst of all that, between the moans and screams, she remembered seeing someone: a boy, standing by a ruined hunk of metal, staring at her. The expression on his face, she could almost see it now, in her thoughts, but then it was carried away. It had seemed important then, but she couldn’t understand why.

Do you know who he was, Lionel had asked her. Or I should ask, what he was? She’d shaken her head, mystified. He had smiled at her then, not at all like the way her father had smiled at her, and had said, then I’ll have to show you.

They’d driven in a limo then, her first ride in a limo, though she didn’t enjoy it much. She felt trapped, caged inside of it. Every time she’d looked at Lionel worriedly, he’d had that same smile for her. He’d pat her leg and say something reassuring, but there had been a look in his eyes that had frightened her. She hadn’t known what it was called then, but now she could put a name to it.

Possession, she thought. He looked at me like I was already his property. The same look had been in his eyes when he called me into his office a few days ago. Has he thought of me that way since the very beginning?

She hadn’t looked up until they’d gotten to the lab and even then, all she could look at was Lionel’s face. He’d seemed excited and eager for her and so she’d tried to be too, but she couldn’t match him. Her stomach had felt like a lump of ice, freezing the half-smile on her face. Lionel had pulled her along after him, into the labs and through the heavy doors into that room.

It was big and dark and empty. The only light came from a window growing up out of the floor at the end of the room. Unable to stop herself, she’d walked forward and had seen that the window looked down into another room, this one much smaller with pristine white walls that were so brightly lit they were almost blinding. She’d squinted briefly and then stared as she saw down into the room. There had been a boy in that room, clad in a dirty pair of white pants and shirt and sitting on a tattered green blanket. He had been playing idly with a simple rag doll, holding it in his hands and turning it around and around. He almost looked to have been studying it. Then casually, almost carelessly, he had pulled the head off the doll and tossed it away. She had watched him stare at the bit of stuffing hanging off the neck of the doll and then he had tossed the rest of it away as well.

Do you recognize him, Lionel had asked her, nearly making her jump out of her skin. She’d shaken her head mutely. Look closer, he had told her, smiling. Almost against her will, she had turned back and looked down again. The boy had noticed them standing there by now. As she had looked down, their eyes had met and she had seen something in them, but it had been all too much for her to understand then. It was too much even now, she thought. But whatever she might have seen, it had all been driven from her when Lionel had bent down and whispered into her ear.

He’s the same boy you saw the day your parents were killed. What’s more, he’s the reason they’re dead in the first place. He caused the shower to happen, it’s his fault that your parents are dead. Her soul had seemed to fracture as she’d heard it. All she had been able to do was to stare down into his cell, staring at the remains of that doll the boy had so casually ripped to pieces.

He’s dangerous, powerful, Lionel had whispered to her. Given half a chance, he’d kill more people, many more. We have to keep him here, we have to make sure he can never get out. I have the best people for that, but they might not understand everything about him. They might not know how important it is that he stays here, they might even feel sorry for him, and forget about what he’s done. I need someone who I can trust Lana. Someone who knows just what’s at stake. Do you understand?

“Yes,” she whispered now, just as she had then.

Do you want him to get out? Do you want more him to kill more parents? Just like he did yours?

“No,” she whispered.

That’s a good girl, he had whispered. She had opened her eyes and looked down at the boy again. He was still staring up at her dispassionately. That’s a good girl.

“Lana.”

So caught up in her thoughts, she heard her name come from the boy. He was staring up at her and she heard him speak again. “Lana.” Now he wasn’t looking at her coldly anymore, but with those same strange, deep eyes of the other one, the alien at the farm. Something about those eyes had shaken her, made her leave LuthorCorp to come here, upsetting everything she’d come to accept about her life. None of her training could show her how to deal with the way those eyes made her feel. She’d been taught about fear and hate, and yes, she’d felt both when he had looked at her, but it was also something more, something she couldn’t understand or face. Those eyes made her want to run, to run desperately away before something terrible happened.

Then to her horror, the boy started to cry from one eye, but blood, not tears. It was running down his face and dribbling onto the floor, pooling around the torn doll lying forgotten on the floor. At first, she’d thought it was formless, but now she could see it was a girl, a rag doll version of a fairy princess in fact. As she watched the blood stained the doll’s pink dress a deeper red.

“Lana?” the boy said again, and this time she nearly screamed in surprise, falling to her knees. She was crying so hard the world was a blur in front of her. Someone was on their knees in front of her, holding her upright. She gasped for air, disoriented, and blinked her eyes clear.

“Easy, easy,” someone was saying as she slowly came back to herself. She was still in the cemetery, she could see her parents’ graves to her left. She sighed and looked up at whoever had kept her from falling, and froze as she saw who it was.

“Easy,” the alien said again to her. He was staring back at her worriedly, still holding onto her shoulder. “Just take it easy, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quickly.

“NO!” she cried, her hand going to her gun before she could finish the word, but then the alien’s hand was there, pining hers to her side. His grip was strong, but not painful, still she screamed as he held her.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he tried to say again, but she kept struggling. Before he could stop her, she pulled her other arm away and smashed him in the neck, right in the Adam’s apple. He gasped, probably more from shock then from pain, but his grip didn’t slip. She swung at him again, striking him in the face this time. “Stop it,” he yelled and caught her arm as she pulled it back again. Her fingers were already starting to swell up and some were bleeding as he held her hand.

“Let go of me,” she hissed at him. “Let me go!”

“Please, I just need to talk to you,” he tried to say, but she cried out and thrashed against him.

“Let me go, let me go!” she yelled as loudly as she could.

“Lana, I just want to…” She thrashed her body away from him trying to break free one last time, but then something came from behind and struck her and she fell forwards into darkness.