THE KEEPER : CHAPTER ONE
Title: The Keeper
Pairing/Characters: Clark Kent (SM) and Diana Prince (WW)
Warnings: Intimate situations will occurs.
Summary: Clark Kent is more than comfortable with his simple life. Living under the raider, blending in with mankind. But when a mysterious woman wounds up injured on the Kent farm, Clark makes it his mission to nurse her back to health. However as he starts to get to know her he comes to the realization that they might share a lot more in common than he initially thought...
A huge thanks to nl8! You're a genius, as well as my hero.
Clark hitched his suede duffel bag over his shoulder with a whistling groan as he trudged through the rods of gold. His head came up higher than the corn, just like a scarecrow free to walk the field, parting the dry green stalks. He was humming, some old battle song, that Pa had taught him as a child. Juvenile things really. The sun in the sky was a bog-standard being, the fiery embrace of the rays beating down upon him until his muscles seemed to throb gratefully in response. His whole skin was tingling with awareness and the fine hairs on his arms were standing up. Between the gusts of warm wind, every sound seemed acutely magnified; the crunching of his feet on the soil-strewn path deafening.
It was the moments like this that he relished, the kind of moments that were as simple as Smallville.
It wasn't a secret that Clark Kent was a conformist and that he lived for the natural order of things. Pa Kent had died a good seven years earlier in some unthinkable freak accident that he hadn't wanted him to stop, and Lana Lang had long since departed from their dear little hometown; taking what was left of Clark's heart with her. It had taken a while but slowly but surely he'd managed to piece himself back together, at least somewhat.
Not that he'd had a choice.
These days he was simply just surviving; he'd take the jobs that he could to pay the farm's bills and lay low in an attempt to appear ordinary. He hadn't had any problems with this simple life so far and if he looked far enough into the future he could actually see himself leading a pretty normal life. After all that's what he'd always wanted.
To be one of them.
Clark took a deep breath and his teeth worried at his bottom lip. Apparently he was in the mood to be reflective today. From his place in the wheat fields he could hear the sharp flick of Ma's book as she entered the next page, and his face broke up in a slight grin.
To Kill A Mockingbird, was the book that Ma had chosen; and it was a book that Ma had read at least a thousand times. To Kill A Mockingbird was the book that had been collecting dust atop of their fireplace for a good five years now and he wondered what had garnered her to change her mind and pick up the read. Perhaps Ma was in the reflective mood as well, not that it was hard to be in their little town.
Clark brows knitted for a second, deep in thought as he stepped into the clearing.
Martha Kent looked up just as her son stepped out from the cornfields, her throat swelling with a mother's pride and bright warmth gathering in her eyes. Her boy, her beautiful boy. He was remarkably handsome, his face a bronze copper in the natural light, features cleanly defined and nearly perfect under a shock of wild dark hair. Those cheekbones were a sculptures dream and his eyes were a precious aquamarine, much like the rare gemstone.
She rose from her perch, snapping her book shut and placing it on the now empty rocking chair. Her own lips pulling up into a smile. "Well look at you."
Clark beamed in acknowledgement. "Enjoying yourself ma?"
"Thought I'd catch some sun. It's a beautiful day." said Ma, her wrinkly hands settling themselves on her narrow hips.
"That sounds fair." The duffel hit the ground with a small thud and Clark's arms spread for an embrace. "Hi, Ma."
"Hi dear," Ma replied, walking into his open arms. "How're the crops coming?"
"Oh, their coming. They should be ready to eat any day now." Clark said, pulling back to glance down at her. Ma gave him a winning smile before maneuvering him to take a seat on the porch.
"To Kill A Mockingbird, again?"
Ma went silent for a while, basking in the state that was Kansas in the peak of summer. For a moment Clark wasn't sure if she would answer but a second later she did. "It was your Pa's favourite book."
Clark gave a slight grimace, not able to deny the slight hitch that clenched his heart. It still hurt, even after all this time. Clark made himself smile, although his stomach felt like ice. "I know." he mumbled, softly.
"Don't look so sad, dear." said Ma reassuringly. "Your Pa's still with us..." her hand moved to rest on his chest, right on the place his heart would be, but her touch didn't register with him. Another wretched curse of his. "In here."
Clark nodded numbly.
Sure, he knew that, but it didn't make the pill any less bitter to swallow.
"You were the apple of that man's eye, Clark. When we found you it was the best day of his life, both of ours."
He stretched out his long legs and looked away, looking around the barn. His eyes searching the corn for something that wasn't there. Something beyond Smallville and the safety of their little town... something more.
Ma's voice rang out to him but it served as nothing more than a beckon in the distance and she continued on, even as she watched the wind jostle the corns. "I used to sit by your crib and listen to you breathe. You would struggle for breath... I was terrified to take my eyes of you. It was your dad who eventually convinced me to let you be."
Clark's fingers twined together, clenching hard, but he spoke in a low voice so as not to break the atmosphere. "I guess I had to learn to adjust sometime."
Ma's response was a short lived chuckle, one that sounded sad and empty. Even still, he knew it haunted her. That she still saw that final image of Pa holding up a hand to stop his pursuits. It was the same image that haunted him most nights.
He waited five heartbeats in the silence that followed, then wet his lips. "Ma... " He began hoarsely, feeling a sudden yawning pit in his stomach. "... Do you ever wish that things were different?"
"No." she said, without hesitation. "Because if they were, I wouldn't have you."
He should've been chuffed, but instead he felt nothing. A son's affection for his mother, yes, but there was also a loneliness there. And the worst part about all of it was that Ma would never understand. Clark chanced a look at her and found that something in Ma's eyes was changing, was narrowing itself down to a wistful kind of twinkle. He decided right then that he didn't like that look. As if reading his mind, Ma confirmed his thoughts. "I won't always be around you know Clark."
"Ma, stop." He shook his head. "Don't talk like that."
"Oh, my boy. We need to talk about these things."
Clark almost looked disgusted. "Why?"
Ma gave him a firm look, the type that told him she knew him much to well. "Because it's only natural, death is a natural part of life, dear. Who knows what tomorrow will bring."
Deep down he knew she was right.
And hell, Clark would've been able to relate if he was one of them. But for him he didn't have to worry about dying from cancer, or some other freaky disease that would snuff the life out of a human. Bullet's bounced from his skin, metal bent under his grip. The sun on this Earth made him unique from others, it made him alien.
Clark felt a cold wave of hopelessness wash over him.
He opened his mouth for some witty retort, and then stopped abruptly; his dark deep set brows furrowing in concentration.
From his place on the porch he could hear them setting up the tables at Fell's Cabin, he had somewhere to be and not a lot of time to get there. That would've been a problem; if he was any normal person. He brushed his jeans off, jumping to his feet at a pace that had Ma doubling back ever so slightly.
"I'll see you later ma." He said, swiftly. "I'm due into work in twenty minutes."
For a moment, for one suspended second Ma's eyes were bewildered and uncertain as she searched his face for an answer. Then as if suddenly understanding she grappled for words. "Okay, dear." She managed, the only words that seemed to tumble forth. She pursed her lips, "Be safe."
Clark rolled his eyes, even still, after all these years she would never seize to worry about him, It was a maternal instinct. "Ma." he snorted, a small smile quirking at the corners of his lips, but Ma's face showed nothing but a Mother's concern for her child.
Thin arms folded themselves across a flimsy chest, a silver brow quirking up in mere stubbornness. "Don't give me that look Clark Kent." she scolded, halfheartedly. "It is a mother's job to worry. Even if her son does have special gifts to protect himself with."
Clark couldn't stop the smile then even if he wanted to. "Whatever you say Ma." he said, getting to his feet before taking a step away from her. He dropped into a crouch, poised to twist up into the skies and Ma said nothing more, but her face did. A smile that shone with the same pride that had been there from the moment they'd found him in the fields all those years ago.
She let loose a wistful sigh, watching as he shot up into the sky.
Clark arrived at work three minutes later, clocking in a little earlier than usual. On the flight here his knife-keen ears hadn't picked up on anything out of the ordinary, or anything that had needed his urgent attention for that matter. He almost found that he could relax a little into his day.
For today was a day like any other on a good day, except that Clark wanted to be anywhere but here. Out of all the jobs that he'd worked throughout the years Fell's Cabin had to be his least favourite by a mile. His team leader, Lance Prescott had given him hell as he'd come through the two looming doors, he'd wittered on about slacking and all sorts of unimportant non-sense. Not that Clark had been listening, he'd been to busy fitting his apron around his waist.
It had been four hours since then and now he found himself with his head down, slouching a little as he shuffled from table to table to retrieve drained tappers, and untouched meals. This job was so not worth the pay, and if he was a less patient man Clark would've quit a long time ago.
Unfortunately, this was not the case.
He whipped out a dull looking napkin, wiping the rims of the fresh glasses he'd just collected from the front desk before setting them back down. His eyes met Lila Montgomery's from across the room, a long standing colleague of his, he tried for a smile. Lila had been here for as long as him, perhaps even longer and even still she wore those two pleated pigtails that trailed a wall of ink down to her shoulders. Lila had dark hair like him and she flirted a lot, especially when it came to him. Clark had never indulged her, but if he wanted her he could have her.
Lila arched an eyebrow at him, a suggestive sway to her hips as she moved to a table full of drunken punters. All that looked finished for the day if they had any common sense at all, but of course they didn't, these men right here were the kind of men that exceeded their limits and Clark could smell the trouble on them from a mile off.
Clark picked up another arm full of empty pints before moving back to the front with a heavy sigh.
This was the usual for him, no matter how much it sucked. He would welcome this kind of normalcy with open arms, take a minute to embrace the fact that this was what being the standard mortal felt like. Clark cleared his throat and the glasses went down with a clink just as Wade Fairmont sidled up beside him.
"What'sup Joe?" Wade drawled, in that god awful tone he'd normally use to provoke him. To the staff and the customers here at Fell's Cabin this was Clark's name, the identity that he had adopted to grant himself immunity from any suspicion.
"The sky... apparently." he commented dryly.
"Wise guy, huh?" Wade laughed, those green eyes gleaming. "Who pee'd in your cheerios?"
Clark sighed tersely. "Wade."
"Fine, fine." Wade huffed, a set of hairy hands shooting up in surrender. He was smart enough to know when he wasn't in the mood. "Jesus, if I ever thought that you were broody before I was so wrong."
Clark folded his arms, his chest puffing out on an exasperated breath. He fell against the counter top, and briefly wondered when Wade would decide to shut up. But of course it never happened. A talkative Wade was the worst kind of Wade and when that Wade started, he never stopped. Super hearing no matter what the situation happened to be a bitch to turn off.
"She's looking at you again." Wade said, nudging him in the ribs.
"Who?" he asked wearily, but he already knew exactly who Wade was talking about. Ever since he'd come in here this morning Lila Montgomery had been watching him like a hawk, that knowing pink grin laid on thick and her walnut eyes following his every move.
"Lila." Wade expressed, like it wasn't already the most of obvious thing in the world.
Clark grimaced and pressed his lips together, almost unconsciously his eyes sought out Lila's for the second time and sure enough she was stealing glances at him. He felt his cheeks redden significantly. Unlike him, Wade would have absolutely no qualms about picking up that slack.
"She's got the hots for you. You know that right?"
"Lila's a nice girl." Clark answered, shifting ever so slightly.
Wade's eyes went huge. "Nice, that's it nice... a fucking stone cold fox is what she is. And nice is all you got?" he sighed, shaking his head. "If Lila Montgomery was looking at me the way she's looking at you right now I wouldn't hesitate to take her out back."
"Wade!" Clark chided fiercely, but apart of him was fighting back a laugh.
Wade waved him off. "I swear Joe, sometimes I think you're the most patient man on the planet. You're like... a Monk."
Clark laughed faintly.
You have no idea
He thought to himself. He managed a shrug, cold as an iceberg. "I try."
Wade snorted. "Yeah, yeah. I've heard that one before. You don't fool me Joe Tanner."
Clark offered up a half-hearted chuckle in response, then took in his surroundings. A picture blossomed in his mind. Fell's Cabin, it was an intimate little space if you fancied that kind of thing. Packed full of cherry wood furniture and spindly little lights that often flickered when the bar would close up for a lock in. It wasn't much at all, just a one horse drop in for travellers that would stay for a beer or a bite to eat before setting off on their merry way. Poof, never to be seen again unless they had relatives in the town.
Came Wade's voice shattering Clark's brief bubble of clarity, his mind wrenched him back into reality again and he cast a hunted look around. "What?"
Wade sighed, the kind of sigh that signalled that he'd truly had enough. "Three o'clock." he grumbled with false humour. He licked his lips before straightening, a forlorn sigh escaping him as his lips quirked bitterly. "And puny Prescott doesn't look too happy either."
Clark sobered and he glanced up just in time to see Mr Prescott storming up to them, his face like thunder. Prescott was visibly impatient and didn't look to be in the you-talk-I'll-listen mood either.
God, he really didn't need this today.
Mr Prescott barked, stopping before them at last. "You don't get paid to just stand there, you get paid to work!"
Wade cast Clark a mock-bewildered look before looking back to Prescott. "Me?"
"Yes... you two... you incompetent... " Prescott broke off abruptly, clearly over this repeat situation, he rolled his shoulders taking an inch towards the pair.
"Incompetent, what?" Wade grinned at Mr Prescott, setting the bait. "Help me to help you, remember boss?"
It was rhetorical; and Clark wasn't at all surprised at Wade's blatant show of disrespect. Wade Fairmont was a young man who'd seen to much, his eyes spoke of true terror and secrets untold. That fiery red hair screamed danger, those bewitching green eyes inviting someone to challenge him, anyone who thought they had it in them, smug in their own right.
Prescott stammered, and Clark found himself shifting irately, not in the least impressed. "Do you know how this will look for us?" The burly man shook his head, then went on to describe pointless, nonsensical things until he was huffing for breath.
He and Wade watched him, listening to the story with an air of detached indifference. Then Wade's lips smacked together stubbornly and for a second he looked as though he was truly contemplating something serious. "Are you finished?"
Prescott paled and he stuttered for words.
Clark found himself almost rolling his eyes. This of course was the usual for this place, this dysfunctional family drama and bickering between Wade and step-daddy Prescott. It was like watching an omnibus of the O.C, jam packed with begrudging angst and all the other shitty things that made for a defective family. A couple years back Mr Prescott had wed Wade's mother and now the two hated each other.
Wade had only kept his job to make his mother happy. "Feigned co-operation," he liked to call it: a case of you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.
Prescott gave up, his face an amusing shade of red as he turned his wrath on Clark. "Tanner..." he hissed, giving him a harsh pat on the chest. Clark raised a thick dark brow before glancing down at the smaller man's hand. Alas, there it was, the quality that Clark despised the most about this man. From beside him he could hear Wade's sharp intake of breath, no doubt he was about to bust a gut in laughter.
Clark grit his teeth.
Prescott's eyes seemed to have grown even darker if that was even possible. "And what do you have to say for yourself?"
Clark straightened his spine, he shook his head urbanely and found himself unable to speak through a storm of internal fury. Prescott's voice seemed to become something of a muted soundtrack, and Clark tried desperately to seek a peace that he'd never truly known. He held himself carefully still, waiting for the self-depicted monsoon to pass when a dulcet voice broke the silence, broke the spell.
"Seriously, Kurt. Knock it off."
Clark startled and found himself able to function again. His eyes sought out the source of the disturbance and peered over the wiry silver head of Lance Prescott, his eyes like chips of blue ice.
Ice so cold it burned.
Alas, and there in lay the culprit. Kurt Monroe, with his beefy arms and that oh so smug grin that Clark just wanted to punch away. With his annoyingly cropped hair and his outrageous self-entitlement. He was a brute hidden behind a greying, hairy face. Men like Kurt really found a way to creep their way under his skin, they had no respect for women, no respect for anyone. They swanned around thinking that they could take what they wanted, when they wanted, like the world owed them one big debt or something.
In other words Kurt Monroe was a total tool, a world class ass whole.
Clark frowned watching as Kurt laid a firm smack to Lila's bottom and the muscles around his jaw shone out, as did the surge of decency that propelled his feet to move before he could even stop himself. He ignored the protests of Lance Prescott, keeping his face grim as he neared the table. "Is there a problem here?"
Eight sets of eyes turned to look at him and Clark squared his shoulders.
Kurt smiled and the air went cold. Contemptuously he said, "Well look who it is... Moose. Come to save your damsel, huh?"
Clark lowered his chin and stared at Kurt sharply, his blue eyes piercing under the shock of black hair. There was a perceptible pause before he got the words out. His face was tense with control. "Let her go."
The three men with Kurt broke up into a swoon of chuckles, and Kurt rose from his seat testing the air, his laughter was harsh. "Walk away... moose... before I break your jaw."
Clark stood his ground, and he heard Lila swallow hard beside him. The whole bar had gone quiet. Suddenly intrigued by the show that seemed to be unfolding right before their very eyes. Silence fell, heavy as an ax.
The minutes ticked by.
Savagely, Kurt's face went dark and his nostrils seemed to flare. "You were warned." He growled then barrelled up, shoving at his chest with what would've been impressive strength if Clark had been anyone other than himself. But still he stood firm, grounded, like some immovable brick wall. Still held in that queer, artificial calm.
Kurt's lips curled into a vicious smirk; as if he'd suddenly had the best idea in the whole wide world and then his beer went splashing up into Clark's face drenching him from the head down.
Clark heard the rumble of laughter booming up in Kurt's chest before it ripped it's way from his throat, and the sound was something pale and ugly against the quiet solitude of the bar. It settled something wrong within him.
Kurt stumbled on his feet, that stupid smirk still plastered on thick. He squinted leaning in to peer at the name tag on Clark's shirt through a set of glazed eyes. "How's that... Joe?" he hiccuped.
Clark's jaw clenched, and his fists tightened into two balls of hot led. For a moment, the desire to hit Kurt back was almost irresistible.
Lila sensing his inner battle rested a hand atop of his bicep. "Come on, sweetie." She was tugging on his arm. "He's not worth it."
Clark was silent for some time, his blue eyes blazing with anger and menace, but there was a dignity, almost a purity about him. He was like some stern angel carved in unyielding marble. Then, with the blood pounding in his ears, he found his tongue. "Your right his not." he finally said through his teeth.
Kurt snorted, shaking his head. He muttered foully under his breath. "All bark and no bite."
If Clark was a mortal he would've launched himself at Kurt a long time ago, but with his physiology it was impossible. He would risk breaking his bones, or worse... Killing him. Although the idea did seem appealing at the moment. Clark's jaw was set, If he could, just once, wipe that flashing, there-and-gone smile off Kurt's face, he would die happy, he thought.
With a careful sigh, he brought his apron up to his face, swiping at the dripping remnants of stout. Kurt Monroe was a lucky man indeed, and if Clark wasn't the patient man that he was the bastard would be counting his lucky stars right about now.
He turned to Lila and she looked gratified. That sultry air from before long gone, she let out a swell of breath. "Thanks Joe."
Clark's eyes shined with sincerity, and he opened his mouth to respond. "You're wel -"
The words were barely out when his ear picked up on something. Something in the distance... his head turned to look toward the windows, brows creasing with each moment that passed by.
Outside, a noise had begun.
It was inaudible to human ears, and Clark almost ignored it until the sounds penetrated his consciousness.
It was strange, but he had no time to puzzle over it. The sound was growing louder, a strange and oddly sickening sound roaring to life over head, the tinkle of glass shards falling.
Gasps ricocheted around the bar and he understood then that the customers were starting to hear it too.
His eyes flew bewilderingly to the glasses resting atop the oak tables, and to Clark's absolute horror he found that they were shaking. It's an earthquake, Clark thought with nightmare calmness and that was when it happened.
A devastating noise that was wild and sounded truly animal, a sound ripped forth from deep within the Earth's core. It was a huge sound, like the sky was shattering in on itself and it took his breath away. Customers were rising from their seats, curiosity forcing them to investigate, that human instinct that craved danger.
Clark too found himself stepping outside amidst the squall of murmuring people, just in time to see a blazing shock of lightning flash viciously across the skies, dancing in a spectacular gleam of white and fiery gold.
The sight was magnificent, and oddly enchanting.
But this storm, this force of nature had to be the most vicious thing to have ever hit Smallville, and with growing foreboding Clark realized it was because this was no ordinary storm. The sky was clouding up, much like the fog blackening his mind and his mouth twisted. His nostrils flaring as if he were smelling something awful. Something terrible was stirring at the bottom of Clark's mind, some memory too disturbing to be let loose. It was happening again. It was just like the tornado!
Only it was worse, God, it was so much worse!
People were gasping in astonishment around him, some even crying out in disbelief. It was all hitting him at once, and had it not been for Ma and Pa teaching him how to hone his senses as a child he would've doubled over on the ground in agony, screaming until the pain stopped.
Clark's knuckles tightened to burning fists.
He chanced a glance at Lila who stood routed beside him. Terror holding her hostage as a shadow of fear presented itself over the pale face, eyes the color of honeyed amber transformed themselves into sunken sockets of disbelief. Her lips parted on a trembling breath. "What is that?"
Clark could do nothing but shake his head mutely, ripping his gaze from Lila. His own eyes homed in on the direction that the disturbance was heading. His teeth crushing together until they found dust.
The Farm, he realized and he was suddenly furious. A wild feeling was growing inside of him, and he felt a storming chill of concern like never before. No! he would be damned if he let this happen again. His body had wound itself into a taut knot of fury and without another thought Clark backed away into the crunch of bodies, spinning away from the scene.
He hurried away to an abandoned spot a good seven meters away from Fells Cabin and in the next second he was airborne. He didn't think he had ever moved so fast in his entire life; unless of course he was counting saving Lana from numerous incidents. He darted through the skies, a bleeding bullet that split the sky in two. He thundered forth like a missile, already seeing the farm arising in the distance.
As Clark neared the farm, A wave of panic began to hit him, damn near knocking the breath out of him. He made it to the farm in records time, and he broke the earth in a sprint, landing just in time to see Ma stepping out of the house. "Clark!" she was calling out to him. "My God, what's happening?"
Clark tottered toward her, his actions frantic and almost hysterical. His voice was barely his own. "It's coming from the fields." he shouted through the howling wind and his head whipped back to glance at the activity he could see transpiring in throughout corn. He pushed Ma towards the house. "Ma get back inside. I'm going to check it out!"
Ma looked ready to protest, but Clark was already hustling her into the house, thrusting the heavy bench resting on their porch before the door. He could see Ma staring at him through the window net her dark eyes wide and tearful.
It was a terrible sight.
But he couldn't wallow on it.
He fled down the porch steps, then let himself succumb to the whims of gravity, soaring up into the skies in a virtuoso display of reflex. A sonic boom roared through the air as he split through the seams of gravity, throwing himself at the raging storm twisting violently in the middle of the cornfields.
"Arghhhh!" Clark roared. A primal sound that tore it's way right from his very being. He shot toward the sparkling energy and it suddenly started to dawn on him that this hadn't just been some devastating lightning storm.
It was some sort of electromagnetic field.
Some delegated force that seemed to be feeding on itself and growing bigger. Clark flew in, hitting the force field with lightening speed and the impact was thunderous. He found himself being hurled away, spinning wildly until he managed to steady himself. He let out a grunt, shaking the cobwebs out of his head. His teeth grinding together so hard his jaw hurt.
Damn that's gonna hurt in the morning.
He thought before throwing himself into action once more. He soared around the shield, measuring his action of attack with exact precision. He could hit it again. But it really didn't seem like the smart thing to do. Moments ago this shield had nearly knocked the wind out of him and he really didn't want that to happen again.
His sharp eyes honed in.
There was something opening itself in the heart of the field, something that seemed to be collapsing into itself. The shield was glowing, the skies too, and in those few horrible seconds all he could do was look. It felt as if someone had just lightly touched the hairs on the back of his neck with an ice cube... This current was something of a far more ruthless proportion. The entity had fallen to earth like some sort of fallen star and seemed as though it was about to go nuclear. Clark had never seen an object with so much energy before.
And it was cold, this energy, like the breath out of a meat locker. He felt as if it would suck out his own life-force and turn it into ice, if it got the chance.
The thing was about to blow.
Clark's eyes grew huge and he started to gravitate a safe distance away from the force field, half of him intent on spinning around and flying back to the farm. The other half bracing himself for impact, for the explosion he knew was about to come, but instead it did the complete opposite. The shield started to dim, and he could only stare on in mind-numbing amazement as it grew smaller. Involuntarily, Clark's mind went to those phony television shows that he used to watch with Pa as a kid, where it would build up to something big, only to leave the audience completely underwhelmed.
He watched as the shield dimmed in size until it was nothing more than a flaring light, a burning star smoking in the middle of the fields.
For a second Clark felt weak with relief.
He lowered, letting his feet touch the soil with a gentle thud, strong hands parting the corns as he made his way forward to investigate what had just happened.
The silence had become deadly, menacing.
It hummed in his ears with the beat of his own blood. And he couldn't help imagining what might come screaming out of it at any minute. His ears pricked, zeroing in on anything that could serve to be a potential threat and he begun to close in, lips tight.
A few moments passed and then the snap of a twig exploded through him like gunfire. It made Clark move all the more faster, he hacked down the corns as he went, a frown between his brows as he got closer to the scene. A heaving sound seemed to be cutting through the air and the closer he got the more clearly he saw the broken roots of compressed dirt and corn stalks, it looked almost as though a giant foot had come down hard and stomped down right in the heart of the fields.
Marking it's territory.
His hand moved the last strand of corn out of his way before taking a step into the crop circle and what he saw next had his breath soaring from his lungs. It hadn't been a lighting storm, or some monstrous titan falling down to Earth to destroy their town for that matter. Clark took a careful step closer, he couldn't believe his eyes.
It was a person.
A body soiled in dirt and Earth... God, it was a woman! The woman lay flat for a moment, sucking in great wheezing gasps of air. She seemed to writhe in the dirt, her face tight with pain. As he got closer he took in the details. A shining veil of dark hair layered her face in a wild shock of disarray, covering the majority of her half-burnt off armor. And from behind the bloody welts on her face; he could make out a sensual mouth, the classic arch of two dark eyebrows, much like his own.
Clark's heart stopped, and he could do nothing but watch on in complete astonishment as twin blue eyes snapped open to meet his own.
The woman seemed to watch him for a second, the same way he was watching her and Clark imagined that his face held the same sort of wonder. Her eyes were strange and cold. Wild with true fear.
And he blanched, watching as her lips parted as if to speak, but before she say could say a word her eyes rolled up into her head and she slumped back down to the earth with a grunt of complete exhaustion.