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Make a Wish - Clana Standalone G

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  • Make a Wish - Clana Standalone G

    It might take a while, and a little help from a friend, but Clark finally gets what he wished for.


    Make a Wish


    Superman sat atop the highest octagonal crystal column in the Fortress. When he was seated, the uneven translucent ceiling was barely a few inches from his head. In that entire cold and empty place, he’d managed to find the loneliest and most remote spot. Not an easy job but then ... he’d had plenty of time in which to look.


    Sometimes he liked to lie down, imagining the craggy frozen sheet in view was moving down imperceptively and that one day, he’d be sandwiched in between it and the column. A vari-coloured fossil encased in ice. Now that would make an interesting movie plot but ... Captain America had already stolen the thunder on that one. Still, it was a dream to be toyed with.


    The therapeutic qualities of stillness and silence had much to recommend them. And the frigidity of the temperature was a further advantage. Being the opposite of the heat and feverish activity of youth. All three sat well with age.


    Not that an outsider would see anything other than the mature thirty-something visage of a human-seeming male. Once Kryptonians achieved their growth potential, their outward appearance altered little until extreme old age. When that would be, he didn’t know. There was no-one left to ask.


    It hadn’t taken more than a year or so of full possession of the Ice Fortress after accepting his destiny as Super hero and protector of this planet, for him to find the ultimate secret control centre and deactivate the holographic and audio manifestation of his Kryptonian scientist father, Jor-El. Just one more talking head. Literally.


    He’d gotten enough of that during his pernicious ten-year relationship with Lois Lane. Never able to take that final step into marriage for one reason or another (perhaps because of the inability to get a word in edgewise), their 'partnership' of sorts was finally dissolved when she openly admitted to sleeping with other men because he “just wasn’t enough for her”. That brought a weak smile to his face. What a headline she’d missed on that occasion – telling the world that Superman, the idolised hero of the planet, was a dud in the romance department. The thought had never occurred to her that she could be the problem.


    But that was a lifetime ago now. Was it fifty years or more since the days he’d actually cared about anything? A couple of years after he’d split with Lois, as the monotonous days slid further into endless repetition of the ones before, the Daily Planet was partially destroyed by a deranged and disgruntled reader wielding a home-made explosive device. No-one had been able to find out what his demands were since his poor quality skills had caused detonation earlier than expected.


    There had been several fatalities, Lois among them (finally achieving headline status) and many other injuries as well as business-ending destruction to the news building. He had galvanised into action as soon as possible, being out of the country attending to a national disaster in Montenegro at the time.


    Those who could be saved were, but the same could not be said of The Daily Planet itself. That type of old fashioned media reporting was deemed unprofitable by the parent company and the building had been demolished and turned into a community garden and low-rise car park.


    Children now played on Superman’s Ball as the golden globe was affectionately dubbed and the attached Wet and Wild car wash bore Lois’ name. A fitting memorial.


    His human manhood had been stripped away. There was no more Clark Kent, that fallible, feeling fellow - there was only Superman, the automaton of justice.


    Two other mortal blows had come hard on the heels of that event. Each took a split half of his atrophied human heart and ground it into a dust which filtered through the cracks of his life, disappearing with less noise than a whisper.


    His earthly mother, Martha Kent, passed away quietly in the nursing home where her memories of the past had flickered on and off during the last years, finally fading to the blissful ignorance of black. Where, now, was the use of Jonathan Kent’s feverish panic about secrecy and the way it had coloured his youth, isolating him from everyone around him? In the end, the “special boy” had simply outlived the knowledge of his own existence.


    Then Lana, who had been so cruelly cut out of his life, was lost to him irrevocably. The memory of her had afforded him the one spark of warmth in the cold, barren landscape of his life. He had always harboured a secret and foolishly optimistic hope that eventually she would be restored to him. But when he saw her at a distance while she paid her respects to his mother – four children in tow and a tall man in a dark grey coat hovering behind her, he had to accept the finality of it all.


    No part of her would be able to remain in his life, the way he was clearly not in hers. The crushing of that long-held hope was hard to bear.


    He recalled the ten-day period after that where he lay immobile, on the ice, ignoring the world’s needs, as it had ignored his.


    All that was a generation ago now. Superman had become a being of mysterious legend. He still continued to be needed, of course. There will always be evil and selfishness, no matter what examples are set to the contrary. And there will also always be those who stand against them. And sometimes, it seemed to him that, in the long-term scheme of things, his presence had made little difference. If one steps down another will always take his place. The inability to be able to do anything except his duty, being the only thing which kept him fettered to the task.


    And, he acknowledged to himself, even though forbidden, there was still one other fragile connecting thread. All these years, since their first agonised parting he had kept Lana’s heartbeat in the background of his hearing. It was his constant companion, more natural than breathing. Hand in hand with this presence came the fear of its absence. The dreaded day it might falter and stop.


    When it did, when her life – the most precious life of all, was no more, he would also take leave. An onward and upward flight out of this world and its atmosphere and beyond into the pathless depth of space. Either he would find, however unlikely, another purpose or, his preferred option: that of oblivion.


    Engrossed in such thoughts, secure in his frozen eyrie, he was uncharacteristically surprised by a familiar voice. One from the past or, more accurately, the future.


    “Is this a private party or can anyone butt in?”


    “Kara?” he said, his voice long disused, rasping in a dry throat.


    He straightened up suddenly, bashing his head against the ice ceiling. He blinked as vicious shards went hurtling down to crash in ruin on the floor below.


    "What are you doing here?"


    "You really have changed, Clark. They told me but ... I didn't believe it was true. Is that any way to greet your favourite cousin?"



    Clark left his lofty perch and they both floated down to the main Fortress chamber. He couldn't stop staring at her. His cousin was just as young and attractive as ... a lifetime ago. He tried to feel something ... happiness, relief, affection but all these sunnier moods had been buried by black despair.


    "I ... guess I've been alone too long. I'm sorry. You ... ahh ... look good," he mumbled, glancing away at the sparse, jumbled furnishings.


    Something ... something important was pressing on his consciousness.


    "A whole lot better than you," said Kara. "I bet you've even forgotten what day this is."


    "Time doesn't exist here. I don't think I could tell you what year it is."


    "Well then, it's a good thing I'm here," she said, warmly. Even though her heart was stricken at the sight of him.


    He started as she moved forward and kissed him on the cheek. No-one had touched him in ... so long.


    "Happy Birthday, Clark. Here."


    Kara pressed something small, cool and roughly hexagonal into his hand. He looked down. It was a crystal shard which shone with a pale amethyst light.


    "What's this?"


    "Your present. Use it wisely. I know you will, I'm from the future, remember?" She winked and prepared to return to await the news.


    "But what ...?”


    "No time. Don't you have to be somewhere?" And flashing a brilliant smile, she was gone.


    The something pressed on his ear drums. Like a faltering step, it shuffled toward silence.


    He took off at supersonic speed, flying like an arrow, straight and true for the target's bullseye.


    A second or two later he was by a bedside in a pretty room of the Hospice Chateau. Two white-capped nuns went flying from the room like the squawking birds they resembled.


    Her breathing was shallow, the old white haired lady with the clear crystal necklace. But he'd know her anywhere by the timbre of her heart. His love. His beautiful Lana. She opened dimming hazel eyes.


    "Clark?" she whispered, and then took another shuddering breath. "You came. I prayed you would. I've been ... so lonely."


    He knelt by the bedside, taking her hand in his. It was as light and dry as an Autumn leaf. But it caused a shudder through his body. The very cells of his skin strove to meld with hers, from whose touch he had been denied so long. And there was no trace of poisonous radiation. Time and illness must have leached it from her body.


    "But Lana, your husband ... children ... grandchildren. Why aren't they here with you?"


    "Who do you mean? I have none," she said, closing her eyes, her head sinking deeper into the pillow.


    "But I saw you - them. At Mom's Service."


    Lana shook her head feebly. "My social work. Children of ... drug addicted parents. Senator Kent ... Martha ... was their patron. The man was their doctor."


    No. Clark shut his eyes tight, even though no tears could fall. He pressed his forehead to the back of her hand. Stupid to the bitter end.


    "I'm sorry, Lana. So sorry. I made so many mistakes. Not holding onto you was the worst."


    "No time for regrets," she barely managed to breathe out. "You were always with me ... in my heart. But now ... it's goodbye."


    He lifted his head and gazed with unbearable sorrow into her half-open eyes. He gathered both her hands in his, and a small, smooth shape he'd forgotten he was holding, pressed between them.


    "No, I won't. You can't leave me. I love you, Lana. Always have, always will. You can't leave me today. It's ... it's my birthday."


    She struggled to draw breath, but managed a faint smile. He held her hands in a warm grip and with what little strength was left, she held tight back.


    "Then ... make a wish." Her fingers began to slip out of his.


    The words echoed strangely. Make a wish.


    So he did. The strongest, deepest, most fervent wish of his super-powerful heart.


    There was a flash of pure amethyst light and a wind began to blow, cool and sweet.


    He smelt night air and pine wood. Hay bales and candle smoke. He opened his eyes.


    "What the ...?!"


    "I said ... make a wish!" said Lana, giggling as she struggled to hold onto a small white cake with glowing candles.


    She smiled up at him, her long dark hair laying sleekly on her shoulders, wide hazel eyes shining with the promise of eternity and her nose crinkling in joy.


    It was the love of his youth. The one which had endured above all other things. Lana ... fresh faced and beautiful as a spring morning. Had they both ... ? What was happening?


    "I ... I've been wishing for the same thing since I was five," he said, as if reading the words inscribed in his head.


    "And now?"


    "And now I don’t have to," said Clark, taking the cake and putting it down on the table. Then he lifted Lana’s hands in his own. "She’s standing right here in front of me."


    Clark leaned in slowly and they kissed - lightly at first, then more intensely, but full of pure love and gentleness.


    He finally took a breath. "I've got a lot of things I want to tell you."


    "That's okay," said Lana, shrugging, "We've got the rest of our lives."


    And he felt it was true. Unbelievably, he'd been given a second chance. And this time there would be no secrets and bitter partings.


    "Happy birthday cuz, see you in the future."


    "I don't know how to thank you."


    "Just ... get it right this time," said Kara. "And have a very Happy Birthday, Clark."


    "Who are you talking to?" said Lana, looking around.


    "Dreams and visions - I'll tell you about that too."


    "Well, birthday boy," said Lana, "I'm ready."


    She felt an expansive excitement. Clark Kent, the boy she'd always loved. Whom she knew was so much more than met the eye. She'd hoped one day he would be hers, and now her dream was coming true.


    "Ready for ...?”


    "Cake. And conversation."


    "One more kiss?" begged Clark.


    It would be a long while before he'd be able to bear letting her out of his sight. And in the background of his hearing, the voices of both his parents murmured in the farmhouse. There were more reunions ahead on this momentous day.


    "That too. Glad you made that wish?"


    Lana leaned in to his chest and he put both arms around her. Perfection.


    "As long as I have you, I'll be thankful for every single day of my life."



    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




    Don't look for love - be the love that people desire.

    Don't look for hope - be the hope that they seek.

    Don't be despair - be the courage that will make them realise that there is much more to life than they ever imagined.

    Unknown.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



    End ... and the chance of a new beginning.

    Seaspray 6.2.14

  • #2
    I have been meaning to leave a commet on this story. Words fail me, Clark broken and falling apart, Kara returns to him from the future one where he fell short of what he was to achive. Kara allows him to find whats really important to him the two telling lines " I've got lots of things to tell you" and " its ok we have the rest of our lives". Talk about a Clana moment!!!! The pre-end with the love of his life slipping away just to painfull to consider. This one shot has it all, yet another master work Seaspray, Bravo!!!!

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    • #3
      I have to agree that was beautiful how Kara returned from the future and gave Clark a second chance, a chance to make things right to be with the one and only true love of his life: Lana Lang! Well done, Seaspray keep up the excellent work and God bless.

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      • #4
        Thank you for the replies, SG and Nick. I'd love to see Clark given a second chance to "get it right" for real. Glad I could entertain you.

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        • #5
          You're quite welcome Seaspray! Thanks so much for the entertainment!
          Last edited by Nick of kandor; 04-22-2014, 05:09 PM.

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