Summary: ‘Clark Kent’ died the day he began to scream his birth mother’s name while immersed in Kryptonite and ‘Kal- El’ became a captive of Lionel Luthor. Two years later, a tiny newborn gives him the strength to live and he vows to protect her while Lex continues his search. Warning: mpreg, rape…

WARNING: Heavy angst, mpreg

Prologue

[IN LIFE AND IN DEATH

Kal- El screamed as yet another sharp pain ripped through his body and his hands balled into fists, grasping the white sheet that had been spread over the cement floor, as he bore down and pushed, catching his breath as the contraction abated and he became once again aware of the sweat pooling off of his body and pasting his black curls to his scalp as the voices of those watching him give birth and yet making no move to help him. Damn scientists!

“Subject 39 has been attempting birth of its offspring for twelve hours now and may expire soon,” came a voice from behind the kryptonite green glass. “Perhaps we should contact Mr. Luthor.”

“I already have, sir. He stated that if it looks bad, we are to save the ‘mother’ and contact him when it is fertile once more.”

“Can we not help the subject?” a new voice suggested as Kal- El pushed again.

“It is not wise to interrupt a dangerous animal when it is giving birth.”

He could feel new blood coating his thighs and sex while the older coating began to dry or flake off leaving a sore rash on his skin. It was more blood and pain then when the human had forced himself inside of him nine weeks earlier, leaving behind the hybrid that Kal- El was now pushing into this world.

Kal- El screamed as he felt it begin to slide farther down his rectum. ‘I can’t do this!’

Kal- El fell back in exhaustion as yet another contraction ran through his body and his energy was entirely too depleted to push again. His body felt like it was above one of the scientist’s Bunsen burners, the heat of his struggle making him gasp even more for breath. He wanted to die. His blue eyes flashed open at that thought and he found the strength to push again. He had to bring the baby into the world, child of rape or not! It was his! He pushed and he was aware of the sensation that he had just pushed some of the baby out.

Kal- El reached down between his legs and felt to make sure. He smiled. He had just pushed out the baby’s head! He could feel the little nose and chin and eyes.

“Just one more push,” he told himself in Kryptonian and pushed once more and felt the shoulders of the baby slide all the way out before it was followed by the rest of the body and an angered wail filled the cell. Kal- El leaned over and picked up his red-faced baby quickly and held it to his chest as he felt the afterbirth slide out.

He ignored the happy cries of the scientists, absorbed completely in the tiny form in front of him. It was a girl! He kissed her bloody forehead and whispered the name, “Martha.”

It was the name of the kind earth woman who had taken care of him after he landed on earth and whom he had called ‘mother’… before Lionel had made him reveal everything in the kryptonite fluid his son Lex had been in only a few hours before. After he had discovered everything, Lionel had led the weak alien far away from family and friends. He wondered what happened to her. That was when he had lived as ‘Clark Kent’. But that boy, that innocent, was dead. He was Kal- El now and the memories of that life were dimming.

He smiled as Martha began to calm down, her fussy face falling into the façade of sleep.

The door burst open and Lionel came into the room, wearing his usual kryptonite jewelry that always made Kal- El flinch and gasp in pain. That jewelry had enabled him to violate him nine weeks earlier.

Elegant as always with his carefully groomed long brown hair and black designer suit, he looked like he had just strode into a board room rather than an isolation cell. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the strong smell of blood and other fluids in the room.

Kal- El immediately shielded the baby from his view and grasped her tight to his chest.

“Let me see our baby Kal- El.”

Kal- El curled into an even tighter ball, only to find the efforts futile as the baby was easily removed from his arms.

“A girl?” Lionel said with a raised eyebrow as he pushed Kal- El’s reaching arm back down without much effort.

“Please…” Kal- El pleaded with the man who had been holding him hostage for the past two years. “Please…”

Lionel looked Kal- El right in the eye and commanded, “You will provide me with a son!”

Kal- El bit his lip but nodded and said, “Yes… please… my daughter…” He wasn’t even aware of scientists cleaning him off before placing him on the small cot.

Lionel took pity on the groveling boy for once and knelt by the bed, arranging Kal- El’s arms to effectively hold the baby and placing the kicking infant inside of them. “She will be useful in assessing the qualities her brother will have.”

Kal-El didn’t hear him after the baby was laid once more in his arms, his blue eyes once more on her face until his chin was yanked into a forced kiss that made Kal-El cringe. The evil human’s lips tasted of alcohol among other things, but that was not what repulsed him most. It was the rapist in general who treated him as breeding stock, which he supposed he truly was now, that disgusted him most. But for his daughter’s sake and lack of energy, he didn’t fight him.

Lionel released him and then took a look around the cell that housed his ‘mistress’ and cringed in disgust as though seeing the appalling conditions for the first time. With an even and emotionless voice, he declared, “I will make this room more comfortable for you and our children. It is far too dreary to be good for little ones and an expectant mother and of course we must create a nursery.”

Kal-El said nothing, the mere tone of Lionel’s voice bringing bile to his throat. He relaxed when he heard him finally leave and he held Martha tightly to his chest as though shielding the newborn from the cruel world it had just entered into.

Meanwhile…..

It was a mockingly bright day for visiting the cemetery as a blue Porsche pulled up the now familiar gravel path and made its way towards the usual destination and stopped as the driver parked and killed his engine. The sun glinted off the shiny dome of the driver’s head as he exited the vehicle, before bending down and retrieving three beautiful bouquets of white roses and approaching one headstone in particular first.

An identical bouquet lay withering in the vase and he switched it without even blinking an eye and then knelt fully in the grass as he reached out a hand to caress the cool marble, imagining instead that it was his friend’s beautiful tan face with glittering blue eyes that always enticed him to laughter. “Hi Clark,” he said, a habit now after two years, “We finally got Belle Reve closed down thanks to Chloe. She now has a column at the Daily Planet, thanks to a little assistance from me. You would be so proud of her. We’re still searching for your body to give you a proper burial… Lana still has a framed picture of you on a table at the talon and some of your classmates have made it look like a shrine.

“As for me… well I bought your parent’s farm after they died just to keep it the same. My Father calls me a sentimental fool, but the loft is the only place I feel at home. Then again, I never felt at home in that castle unless you came by for a visit. Most of my things are now in your old bedroom, but hidden out of sight. Sometimes, I wake up and expect to see you there with that smile of yours especially after yet another meeting with Daddy Dearest.” A slight smirk graced his pale face as he thought of Clark’s blush if he heard that sentence.

“Clark… I don’t want to give up hope that you will found alive, but it has been two years so if you have…” he couldn’t even bring himself to say it even after two years so he just swallowed and continued, “I hope your spirit can hear me. I miss you Clark.”

He traced the lettering one more time before standing and walking a few feet over to another headstone declaring: Here lies Jonathan and Martha Kent, Beloved parents and dear friends. He laid the last two remaining bouquets on the lush green grass and touched their headstone as well. After Clark had disappeared, Jonathan Kent had taken over the farm duties completely and refused all offers from him to help. The pride had been his undoing when two weeks after Clark’s ‘funeral,’ he collapsed and died from a heart attack. Martha Kent had died another two weeks after that, almost to the day, of a broken heart and Lex had paid for their funeral.

Lex didn’t speak this time, but merely nodded his head respectfully at the stone before once again beginning the trek back to his waiting car as he had done so many times now.

TBC?

A/N

So what do you guys think? Should I continue this or let it die? FLAMES WELCOME.