Chapter 12
Harry stared at the mountains of boxes in the front hall. Every single one had Lana's neat, feminine handwriting on the side. He didn't even know how she had so much stuff. He could have fit everything he owned into a single grocery bag.
He had told her to just let him move the boxes with his powers, but Lana had insisted on doing it the old-fashioned way. She wanted to remember the experience of moving back into her old home. So far, the experience was mostly Lana swearing under her breath every time a box caught her shin. Harry offered to help, but she always refused until she'd stubbed her toe at least twice. She was quite stubborn.
A box labeled "Books" wobbled on the top of the stack, and Harry put a hand up to steady it. He considered just levitating everything into place, but Lana wasn't having any of it. So Harry just stood there and amusedly watched with his arms crossed over his muscular chest.
She finally came in with her hair pulled back into a ponytail and her arms loaded with two boxes marked "Kitchen 1" and "Kitchen 2." She wore old jeans and a faded T-shirt that was several sizes too big for her. She set the boxes down with a grunt and blew a strand of hair out of her face.
"Okay, Harry," she said, "Are you ready to do your thing?"
He smiled cheekily at her. "Are you sure you don't want to move these up the stairs one at a time? It builds character."
Lana squinted at him. "If you want to sleep on the porch tonight, keep making jokes."
Harry raised his hands in surrender and chuckled. "My deepest apologies, madam." He reached out, and a wave of green energy swept through the foyer. Every box shimmered, lifted up, and arranged itself into two neat rows on the hardwood floor. Each box hovered a good six inches off the ground. They floated weightlessly, awaiting his command.
Lana rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth pulled up in a reluctant smile. "You're so annoying."
He smirked at the sexy girl. "So I've been told." Harry then flicked his fingers, and the boxes filed up the staircase, one after another, stacking themselves against the wall of the upper landing.
Lana followed, calling instructions. "The ones with the green stickers go to the kitchen! The blue ones go to our … your … bedroom. No, not the guest room, Harry, I mean it!" Lana laughed and smacked his arm when Harry pretended to ignore her.
She hustled up the stairs behind the parade of floating cardboard, calling out corrections every few seconds. Harry followed her, not in any hurry. He trailed his fingers along the polished banister, watching the boxes as they floated into their assigned rooms.
The house looked great, in his opinion. Sunlight streamed in through freshly-washed windows. There was the smell of new paint and sawdust from his repairs, but under it all was a warmth that made the place feel lived-in, even before the furniture arrived.
Lana planted her hands on her hips, surveying the scene. "See? That wasn't so bad."
He looked at the perfectly stacked boxes. "You do realize this is, like, ninety percent your stuff, right?"
She didn't even blink. "If you want me to move in, you have to take the massive pile of 'girly' things that come with me."
"Will there be any room left for my junk?" he asked in amusement.
She ignored that. "Next!" She spun on her heel and marched down the hall. Harry shook his head and watched her go before following along.
They spent the next hour unpacking the kitchen. Lana directed the operation like a general, pointing at cabinets and drawers. He floated everything to her exact specifications. Every time he tried to cut a corner or suggest a better way, she shut him down with a glare. He couldn't help but smile every time she did.
The kitchen filled up with plates, mugs, and saucepans. Lana insisted on organizing the silverware by size, which Harry found charmingly neurotic. He let her win every argument, mostly because he liked the way she slightly stuck her tongue out when she was focused.
After the kitchen came the living room. Harry hovered the new couch through the door without scratching the paint. Lana directed him to slide it along the far wall, then decided she wanted it on the opposite wall. He tried not to roll his eyes, but when she caught him, she poked him in the ribs, which made him drop the couch and scuff the floor. Harry was then forced to fix the damage, of which he was one hundred percent responsible … at least according to Lana.
She set up a small bookshelf by the window. Harry placed the TV on the stand, then stepped back to admire the view. The living room was big and airy, with a window that looked out over the dusty lane and the cornfields beyond. Lana fussed with a potted plant, then plopped down on the couch.
She patted the spot beside her. "C'mere," she said. He sat next to her, close enough to feel her warmth but not so close he'd risk an elbow to the ribs when he inevitably annoyed her.
She leaned back, letting her head drop onto the cushion. "It feels weird," she said. "Like, I'm waiting for someone to come home and tell us we don't belong here."
He nodded. "It'll take some getting used to. I imagine you'll get used to it much faster than I will. You already have good memories of living here."
She turned to look at him. "Do you think we'll be happy here?"
He didn't hesitate. "I think we'll be as happy as we want to be."
She smacked his arm. "Don't get all sentimental on me."
He laughed, then stretched his legs out. For a while, they sat in silence, listening to the old house creak and the wind whistle through the leaves outside. Lana closed her eyes and exhaled loudly. "I have to go back to the Talon and get the last of my stuff."
He nodded. "I'll hold down the fort."
She stood, smoothed her shirt, and looked at him with a smile. "You did really good today, Harry."
"Why, thank you," he said, returning her smile.
She leaned in and kissed his cheek. It was quick, but it sent a pleasant jolt through his whole body. She grabbed her keys and headed out, her sneakers thumping down the stairs. The front door closed, and Harry was left alone.
He wandered the house for a while, checking each room. The upstairs bedrooms were empty except for the boxes. He opened one marked "Decorations" and found a tangled mass of string lights and other girly things. He smiled, closed the box, and set it aside for Lana to deal with.
He went into the master bedroom, which was still mostly empty. The few things he owned sat in the corner, looking lonely and out of place. He realized he'd never owned a house before. He sat on the new bed and wondered what he was supposed to do next. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
He checked the clock. Lana wouldn't be back so soon. He padded down the stairs and opened the front door. Lois Lane stood on the porch. She wore an open jacket over a white tank top and tight jeans that accentuated her curves. Her hair was in a messy ponytail. She looked Harry up and down, then grinned.
"Wow," she said. "They'll let anyone own property these days."
He stepped back and motioned her in. "Come on in, Miss Lane. Take a load off."
She eyed the living room and then the kitchen. "Nice digs. You did all this by yourself in one day?"
"I had Lana help me out," he told her.
Lois plopped onto the couch, put her feet up on the coffee table, and leaned back. "Where is the future Mrs. Potter, anyway?"
He considered a witty comeback, but decided to just play it straight. "She went to grab some things from the Talon."
Lois looked at him. "She trusts you alone with the new house? That's reckless."
"Apparently so. Now, did you just come here to annoy me or …?" he asked.
She took a long look around, then pointed at him. "I need your help."
He sat in the armchair across from her. "With what?"
She dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a battered notebook. "I'm working on a story for the Torch. Someone's been breaking into the school at night, and I want to catch them in the act."
"How do you know someone's breaking into the school?" Harry wondered.
"I have a source at the police station, and he said that they've received several calls about someone slipping in through a side entrance at night," Lois explained. Harry nodded.
"So, why me?" he asked.
She looked him dead in the eye. "Because you're the only person in this town who can handle all the weird stuff that goes on. If I ask Clark, he'll just give me a twenty-minute lecture on how I'm being silly. Then he'll tell me to call the authorities," she snorted. "Besides, I figure if things get hairy, you'll be able to take a punch."
He laughed. "You just want me as backup."
She shrugged. "You have a reputation, you know. First the Talon incident, then the way you manhandled those jocks last week."
He scratched his chin. "I thought you said my heroism was overrated."
"I did," she said with a cute smile, "But I'm willing to lower my standards."
He grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."
She leaned forward and smacked his knee. "That's the spirit! It's tonight. I'll text you when I'm ready."
He nodded. "I'll be there."
She stood, then wandered into the kitchen. "Do you have anything to drink in this place, or is Lana making you drink from a doggy bowl?"
He went to the fridge and found a can of soda. He tossed it to her. She caught it with one hand and popped the tab. "You're lucky I'm not making you go outside and drink from the hose."
"Nice," she said. "So, how's life with Lana?"
He tried not to look embarrassed. "It's been great. She's a great girl."
Lois gave him a long look. "She likes you. You know that, right?"
He met her gaze and smirked. "Yeah, I'm starting to get that feeling."
She smiled knowingly. "Don't screw it up."
He raised his soda in salute. "I'll do my best."
She finished her drink in two gulps and dropped the can into the bin. "Alright, I'm out. Don't forget tonight."
She was at the door before he could respond. "See you then, Lois."
She grinned over her shoulder. "Try not to wreck the house before Lana gets back."
He laughed and watched her go. He went back into the living room and sat for a while, thinking. He wondered what Lana would say when she heard he was helping Lois chase ghosts. He thought about what would happen if someone tried to break into this house. He made a mental note to add some magical protections to the property. He leaned back, feet on the coffee table, and waited for Lana to come home.
The Last Guardian
Lois crouched in the shadows just outside the main entrance to Smallville High, her breath misting in the autumn chill. The security lights bathed the lawn and sidewalk in a harsh yellow light, and she could hear trucks rolling down the highway in the distance. She checked the time on her phone. It was 11:07 p.m. Typical, she thought. She just had a feeling that Harry would be late. The guy was too laid back, in her opinion.
She adjusted the black beanie over her ponytail and glanced across the parking lot. Her car sat two blocks away, out of view from the street. She'd left the keys in the visor, just in case a quick getaway became necessary. It probably wouldn't, but Lois had learned to plan for the worst, especially when Harry was her partner in crime.
"Where is that idiot?" she muttered, not bothering to hide her irritation.
A sudden, blinding white light stabbed her from behind. She whirled around, her heart pounding. She half-expected to see the school's rent-a-cop or, worse, Principal Reynolds.
Instead, she saw Harry, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, grinning like an absolute dork and holding his flashlight up to his own face for dramatic effect. He wore a black hoodie and dark jeans.
"HERE I AM!" he boomed, in a voice so loud Lois actually slapped a hand over his mouth before he finished the next syllable.
"What the … ?!" she hissed, dragging him behind the low hedge with a death grip. "Are you trying to get us arrested?"
Harry looked undisturbed. "Relax, Lois. The only people awake right now are us and maybe that bum who sleeps on the football bleachers. Besides, it's not like we're trying to break into Fort Knox."
Lois rolled her eyes, checked the windows, then smacked his arm for good measure. "If we get caught, you're taking the fall, Potter."
"I would expect nothing less," he said in a low voice, but with a crooked grin that made Lois want to punch him even more.
She waited until the security lights on the side of the building cycled off, then bolted across with Harry in tow. They reached the side entrance by the gym, where the janitor, Old Man Jenkins, sometimes stood out there to smoke. Lois pressed her ear to the metal, listened for any kind of movement, then slipped a thin piece of plastic from her pocket and jimmied the lock. Harry watched, impressed with her skill.
Inside was quite dark, and the only source of light came from the soft glow of the emergency lighting. The gymnasium echoed with distant clanks and the soft mechanical humming of the HVAC system. Lois led the way, hugging the wall.
"Some break-in artist you are," Harry whispered, right behind her. "Next time, wear something darker than a white tank top."
"Shut up," Lois snapped, grateful for the dark jacket she'd thrown over it but still annoyed he'd noticed.
They snuck around the corner and toward the main hallway. The school was deathly quiet, and every small sound seemed impossibly loud. Lois ducked behind a row of lockers. "This way," she mouthed, pointing toward the admin offices.
They froze as the heavy squeak of wheels echoed from around the corner. Lois grabbed Harry's sleeve and pulled him into the first open door she found. She pushed him against the wall of the empty classroom and pressed herself flat against him. His breath tickled her cheek. She ignored it.
"Stay quiet," she mouthed, and Harry nodded.
The janitor rolled by, pushing a battered cart and humming an off-key tune. As soon as he was gone, Lois breathed a sigh of relief. Harry, however, smirked at Lois. "You know … If you wanted to get me alone in the dark, all you had to do was ask," he quietly teased. Lois rolled her eyes and shoved him away.
"Get a grip, Casanova. You're not as hot as you think you are," she said with a smirk, which made Harry chuckle.
They finally reached the office door, which was locked. Lois produced her card again and began to work on it. She had the lock open in five seconds. They slipped inside, closing the door softly behind them. The office was neat, almost suspiciously so. Lois scanned the room for anything out of place, any sign of forced entry, or ransacked cabinets. There was nothing.
"You think someone's breaking into the school's office?" Harry asked, peering over her shoulder at the rows of student files.
"I figured it was a student breaking in to change some grades, but nothing looks out of order," she quietly told him. She tiptoed to the principal's office and let herself in, Harry ducking in behind her.
A noise coming in through the closed window made her freeze. She stood perfectly still and listened, her heart pounding.
Harry caught her look. "It's probably just raccoons digging through the trash," he whispered.
Lois shook her head. "No. Listen."
There was another sound. It was a metallic clank, then the barely audible creak of the fire escape door leading to the cafeteria.
"Gotcha," Lois whispered, her whole body tensing with adrenaline.
They retraced their steps, this time moving faster and more recklessly. They flew down the main stairwell, past the trophy case, then past the vending machines and into the cafeteria wing. They pressed up against the swinging doors that led to the kitchen. It was almost completely dark inside, except for the glow of the exit light. Lois peeked through the porthole and saw a figure hunched over, rifling through a lower cabinet. She signaled to Harry, who nodded, and together they crept forward. They silently pushed through the swinging door and moved closer.
Three steps away from the culprit, Lois tripped over a mop bucket. The clatter was deafening. The figure whirled, eyes wide in the glow of the flashlight now pointed directly at her face.
"Hands up, scumbag!" Lois barked, the adrenaline making her voice crack. The figure squealed, dropped the giant tin of tomato paste she had been holding, and recoiled, shielding her face with one arm.
"That's the lunch lady, Lois," Harry said, trying really hard not to laugh.
The woman, who was maybe in her late fifties or early sixties, had her hair curled so tight it looked like a helmet. She was frozen in a crouch behind a three-tiered rack of cafeteria trays. She stared at Lois and Harry as if they were holding her at gunpoint.
"Don't move!" Lois barked, her hands up in a weird martial arts pose. She stepped forward, her sneakers squeaking on the greasy tile. "What's in the bag?"
The lunch lady blinked twice, then hugged the brown paper bag tight to her chest. "Please," she said, "I didn't take anything! I just … I just needed …"
"Confess, criminal!" Lois clamored. "Are you selling smack to the kiddies?" she blurted out and lunged, grabbing the bag from the old lady with both hands. They had a short, awkward tug-of-war before Harry calmly pried it from both of them. He held it up and looked inside.
"Sandwiches," Harry said. He held up a plastic-wrapped ham and cheese sandwich. "And … some apples and oranges." Harry looked at Lois, knowing this was the dumbest thing they had ever done. "Do you think she's planning to sell this on the black market?" he sarcastically asked.
The lady's eyes welled up. "I know it's not right," she whispered, "But we can't make it on my paycheck. My husband, he's … he's not well." The words came out fast and panicky. "He hasn't been able to work since the accident, and the bills … just the medicine alone, it's …" She covered her mouth, suddenly mortified.
Lois, momentarily thrown off by the emotional whiplash, recovered with a vengeance. "So you admit to breaking and entering. What else have you nabbed?"
Harry rolled his eyes at her. "Lois. She's just stealing lunch meat."
"Yeah, today," Lois said, folding her arms. "But who knows what she'll take tomorrow. People always start small."
The lunch lady sniffled and wiped her nose with the edge of her sleeve. "It's only leftovers. I take what they'd throw away. If anyone found out, they'd fire me, and then we'd have nothing. Please, please, don't tell the principal. I'll never do it again, I swear on my soul."
Harry exhaled loudly. He looked at Lois, at the woman, and then at the sad sandwich bag in his hand. "How long have you been doing this?"
The lunch lady took a shuddery breath. "Just since last spring. When he got hurt." She shook her head. "There's no money. I'm not hurting anyone. I never take the good stuff."
Lois tried to harden her face, but the edges drooped. She looked away, pretending to inspect the cabinets. Harry put the bag on the counter and asked softly enough that she had to look up. "Are you the one who's been breaking in at night?"
She nodded shakily. "I have to. We need the food."
Harry looked at Lois, then back at the woman. "Promise us you'll stop," he said. "If you get caught again, you'll lose everything. There's always another way."
The lunch lady nodded. "I'm sorry. I will. I won't come back after hours again."
She looked so defeated and small that Harry really felt bad for her. He closed his eyes for a second and concentrated. Ten bundles of one-hundred-dollar bills that he had taken from the cartel suddenly appeared inside the brown paper bag. He'd make sure to keep an eye on her so neither she nor her husband went hungry. "Go on home," he said, opening the kitchen's rear exit. "And don't forget your bag."
The lady grabbed the bag, clutched it to her chest, and hurried out the fire door, pausing at the threshold to give them both a wobbly, grateful look.
Lois waited until the door swung shut. "Well, that was … deeply unsatisfying," she said. "I was hoping for at least a meth lab."
Harry smiled at her. "You've seen too many bad movies."
They exited through the loading dock, keeping to the shadows. Outside, the night air was colder and quiet. They walked for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. "You're not going to write the story, are you?" Harry said, after a block or two.
Lois scowled. "No, and besides, what would I say? Local Lunch Lady Steals Soggy Tater Tots to Save Dying Husband?"
He laughed. "It wouldn't be the worst headline the Torch has ever run."
Lois stomped a puddle, making water splash across Harry's shoes. "I don't want to get her in trouble," she muttered. "She's not a villain."
They walked in silence for another minute, and the only sound was their shoes scuffing on the pavement. Suddenly, Harry stopped. "Hey," he said, and turned to face her. She stopped too, looking at him as if waiting for a punchline. Instead, he reached out and hugged her.
Lois froze for a second before hugging him back. When he pulled away, her cheeks were pink in the streetlight. "What was that for?" she asked.
"Being a decent person," Harry said, smiling. "There aren't many of those around these days."
Lois punched him on the shoulder. "You really are an idiot," she said, but she actually sounded quite pleased. They kept walking together down the empty street. He noticed that Lois was walking a little closer to him than before. After a while, Lois started humming, just loud enough for Harry to hear, and he found himself smiling.
The Last Guardian
The country house made strange new noises at night, which were quite different from Lana's apartment or even the motel. Thankfully, Harry got used to them quickly. He lay in bed, flat on his back, listening to the faint rustling of the trees in the wind. He'd left a lamp on, and his phone sat on the nightstand, plugged into its charger. The sheets were new and clean, and the pillows were softer than any he'd ever owned.
There was a creak from the hallway, then a quiet knock at the door. He didn't bother with a shirt. "Come in," he said, and propped himself up on his elbows.
Lana slipped through the door. She was wearing one of his t-shirts. It barely reached the tops of her thighs. Her hair was loose and messy, and her face was pink with embarrassment. She hesitated by the door, fidgeting with the hem.
"Sorry," she whispered. "I couldn't sleep." She ran her foot along the thick rug, and her legs were bare and smooth. He thought that she looked very sexy.
Harry sat up straighter and patted the mattress beside him. "Do you want to sleep here?"
Lana nodded and closed the door behind her. She padded over and crawled into the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She huddled under the blankets, close enough that their shoulders touched.
"I thought you might like the company," she said, her voice muffled in the sheets. "You know … with you being in a new house and everything.
"Thanks, Lana. That's very considerate of you," Harry amusedly said. However, he knew she had grown used to sleeping with him and didn't want it to end. Harry had no problems with that.
Harry smiled and leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. He could feel Lana's body heat through the covers and the brush of her soft hair against his arm. She burrowed closer, pressing her cold feet to his leg.
"Your toes are like ice," he said.
"And you're like a furnace," she replied, wriggling until she found a comfortable spot curled around his side.
Harry could feel her slow, steady heartbeat against his side. He reached over and turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Lana inched up and kissed him softly on the cheek, then dropped her head onto his chest. She let out a slow, happy breath and fell still, her arms locked around his middle like she never intended to let go.
Harry rested his chin on her hair, kissed the top of her head, and closed his eyes. He felt her relax, and she made a soft, contented sound and squeezed him even tighter. He smiled, wondering how he had gotten so lucky as to end up with a girl like Lana in his bed.
Chapter 13
Harry walked into the dealership like he already owned the place. Metropolis had skyscrapers that reached high into the clear, blue sky, but in this part of the city, everything huddled close to the cracked blacktop and chain-link fences. The dealership looked newer than most of the buildings in this area, and he saw his reflection in the clean glass walls as he stepped inside.
The sales floor was filled with men in pressed button-downs and one woman who looked more than happy to use her sex appeal to make a sale. They eyed Harry and sized him up, but he walked straight to the back, where the work trucks were all lined up and gleaming under the fluorescent lights.
He circled a silver truck and ran a hand along its side. He could tell it had been freshly washed and waxed. An older salesman approached him. His gray hair was combed straight back, and his teeth were too white to be natural.
"Are you looking for power, or style?" the man asked.
"I'm looking for both," Harry replied. "But I only want to pay for one."
The salesman grinned. "That's what they all say," he chuckled. "If you want both, then I suggest the 2005 Silverado 2500HD," he proudly stated, slapping the hood of the silver truck Harry had been eyeing. "It was just released yesterday, and we only have two more in stock."
"Is it a workhorse?" Harry asked. He had heard the farmers in Smallville using that word about the trucks they owned, and Harry was pretending that he actually knew what he was talking about.
The salesman grinned widely. "This baby's got a 6.6 liter V8 Duramax diesel engine that puts out 310 horsepower and 520 foot-pounds of torque. This thing could tow the moon right out of orbit," he chuckled.
Harry nodded as if it all checked out. The truck was big and shiny, and it seemed powerful enough for anything he might need. "Let's talk price," Harry said.
He drove a hard bargain, but Harry was just as relentless. The haggling went on for nearly fifteen minutes before Harry sensed that he wasn't going to get any better of a deal. When Harry stated that he'd pay in full, the salesman decided that he could knock off an extra five hundred. When Harry finally agreed, the salesman shook his hand with such enthusiasm that one would think that they had just brokered world peace.
Harry produced his bank card and signed a mountain of papers. An hour later, Harry sat behind the wheel of his new truck. The seat hugged his body, and he inhaled the new car smell. Harry then turned the key, and the truck rumbled to life. Harry had a huge smile on his face, and he didn't think he'd be this excited to buy a new vehicle.
The drive out of Metropolis was spent getting used to all the truck's features. Harry played with the mirrors, adjusted the seat, and tried to figure out the radio. When he approached a slow-moving semi-truck, he jammed his foot on the accelerator, and the engine roared even louder. He zipped past the semi and swerved back into his lane.
The long road home was sandwiched between cornfields and empty, overgrown lots. The sky was clear and bright, and the sun beat on his bare arm as it rested against the outside of his door. Harry left the windows down and let the wind tangle his hair. He was having the time of his life.
Near the edge of Smallville, he caught a flash of color in the weeds beside an abandoned field. Two tractors sat there, nearly covered in tall weeds. They were sun-bleached and rusted. He braked, swung the truck onto the shoulder, and hopped the shallow ditch. The tall grass reached his waist as he pushed his way through.
The tractors were huddled at the edge of a field that had probably once been farmland. Harry crouched down, tracing the faded letters on the side of the nearest machine. The letters read, "Farmall 966", and judging by the design, Harry guessed it was from the early seventies. Its once black exhaust stack was covered in rust, and the front grille was caked in spiderwebs and dried mud.
He ran his hand along the seat, which was thoroughly rotted and patched with duct tape. The steering wheel's rubber coating was cracked and brittle, and the chalky gray tires were flat and buried at least two feet into the ground. White paint chipped off the rusty rims.
He glanced at the second tractor, which was an old John Deere. It was at least a decade newer than the other but just as dilapidated. The paint had faded into a lighter green, and there was hardly a piece of metal that wasn't dented. Still, everything was there, and as rusty as it was, it still looked solid. He knew these machines were made to last. Harry smiled.
He held out his left hand, and it glowed faintly. A green shimmer wrapped around the two tractors, outlining their metal and rubber in perfect detail. Harry visualized his barn, its big, clean concrete pad, and the spare bay next to the horse stalls. The space between his hand and the tractors crackled. For a second, the air grew icy cold, and the tractors flickered out of existence.
He straightened up and let out a breath he had been holding, pleased with his work. They'd be waiting for him at home. A semi sped past on the highway, blaring its horn, but Harry didn't flinch. He wiped a smudge of oil from his hand and walked back to his truck. He felt lighter, as if the new purchase, the fresh air, and the little act of thievery were all part of some greater master plan.
Harry gunned the engine, and the truck roared, eager to hit the road. As he merged back onto the highway, he could already picture the tractors sitting in the barn. He couldn't wait to see them once they were cleaned up.
The Last Guardian
Harry's new truck looked right at home in the driveway. The shiny chrome reflected the midday sun, and a thin layer of dust already covered the hood and bumper. Lana had told him that cars didn't stay clean in a farm town like Smallville for long. She proved that by asking him to use his powers to clean her car every couple of days. He cut the engine and got out.
He walked straight for the barn, his shoes crunching on the gravel. The big sliding door squealed in protest as he hauled it open. The familiar smell of straw, diesel, and the wet stone floor hit him in the face. The tractors sat side by side in the center, and one was leaking muddy water all over the concrete floor.
Harry walked over and circled the machines. The teleport had been perfect. There were no scorch marks and no missing pieces. With a flick of his hand, he summoned his power. A haze of green energy pooled around his fingers. "Let's get you two cleaned up," he said.
He snapped his fingers, and the tractors glowed a blinding green. Layers of grime lifted, and the paint scrubbed itself clean. Spiderwebs vanished, and the dirt and mud were wiped away. When they were spotless, Harry leaned against the wall and admired his work. Their tires were still flat, the seats were still mangled, and both engines looked like they hadn't fired in decades, which they probably hadn't. He closed his eyes and pictured the machines the way they ought to be.
Green light shot from his hand and traced the Farmall's cracked seat, smoothing the rips and sewing the foam back in place. Rust disappeared, and certain parts were re-chromed. The suddenly shiny black tires filled themselves until they were bulging. The engine compartment ticked and shuffled as if an invisible mechanic was tinkering inside. The John Deere got the same treatment. It gleamed with a new coat of paint, and the dents squealed in protest as they were straightened. The process took less than a minute.
"Much better," Harry said, proud of his work. The tractors looked brand new. Already prepared for this day, Harry filled both tractors with oil.
He climbed up onto the Farmall and checked the ignition. The keyhole was empty. He pictured a key, and a second later, a ghostly green image of a key appeared inside the ignition. When the green light faded, a metal key remained in its place. He pulled the key out and checked it over. It was metal and icy cold.
He slotted the key into the Farmall, jumped off, and unscrewed the fuel cap. Harry grabbed a plastic gas can from the corner and poured some diesel into both tanks. He wiped his hands on his jeans, jumped back onto the tractor, and fired it up.
The engine coughed once, then roared to life. Harry whooped in triumph. He pumped the throttle, let the old beast purr, and repeated the process with the John Deere. Both tractors idled side by side, smoke curling from their pipes.
Harry steered the Farmall outside, through the wide barn doors. The tires tore shallow furrows in the damp ground as he rolled onto the field. Harry took a slow lap around the house, past the garden where nothing grew yet. He made it back to the porch in time to see Lana stepping out with a mug of coffee in her hand. She looked at him with a surprised expression. "Where did you get that thing?"
Harry beamed. "I found it. I was on my way back from Metropolis, and I saw it just sitting there in a field."
"You found a working tractor?" she skeptically asked.
"It was destined for the scrap pile," he said, and then revved the engine. Smoke billowed out of the exhaust pipe. "But you know me … I have the magic touch," he said with a smirk.
Lana stepped onto the porch and studied the tractor more closely. It looked like it came directly from the factory floor. "You're telling me you just … took it?"
Harry shrugged, grinning wider. "I figured no one would miss it. Trust me, no one had visited this thing in years."
She put her hand on her hip and gave him the look that he was so familiar with. "Harry, you're impossible."
"C'mon … I've done worse," he replied with a boyish grin.
"Was that the only thing you brought home?" she asked, pointing at the barn, where the John Deere's grille peeked out.
He coughed theatrically. "Well, they were a matching set. It would be rude to just take one."
She rolled her eyes, but he could see that she was smiling. "You're going to end up in prison if you're not careful."
"Relax, it was just a pile of abandoned junk in an empty field." He cut the engine and hopped down. "Besides, you know no prison can hold me," he stated proudly.
She sipped her coffee and stared at him over the rim of the mug. Harry reached up and pulled a bit of straw out of her hair. Lana had been getting the stables ready so she could bring her horse back home. "You want a ride?" he asked.
"In this?" She waved at the tractor.
"In the new truck," he said, and pointed at the Silverado glinting in the driveway. "I bought it this morning." Her eyes swept over the truck and then returned to him. "I'll take you out for a burger," he said, sweetening the deal.
She snorted, but her smile softened. "I'll grab my shoes."
Harry waited, leaning against the porch rail. While it was still relatively warm, he could tell that it wouldn't stay that way for long. The mornings and nights were growing colder every day. Harry went into the barn and turned off the other tractor, happy with how it idled. He'd test how it drove when they got back.
Lana came back out with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. "Alright. Let's get this show on the road."
Harry opened the passenger door for her and let her climb in. Lana smiled prettily at him. He started the truck, and Lana immediately fiddled with the radio until she found a station she liked. Harry backed out onto the road, threw the truck into drive, and gunned the engine. Had anyone been around, all they would have heard was the roar of the engine and the shrill voice of a girl loudly telling him to slow down.
The Last Guardian
Harry was out running some errands, and when he got home, he found Lana in the kitchen, rinsing her mug in the sink. Her shoulders were hunched, and her hair hung forward so he couldn't see her face. Harry set his keys on the counter and came up behind her. He hesitated a second, then gently touched her back. She flinched like she hadn't heard him enter.
He slid an arm around her. "Hey," he said softly, "Are you okay?"
She sniffled and said, "Sorry. It's just … Clark said some things to me when I went over to the Kents' place."
He pulled back and looked at her face. Her eyes were red, and she'd been holding back tears for a while. She wouldn't look at him. "Mean things?" he asked.
That got a reaction. She set her mug down a little too hard, wiped at her cheeks, and nodded. Harry steered her to the kitchen table and sat her down. "What happened?"
Lana pressed her lips together and stared at the duck-shaped salt shaker that she had recently purchased. "I went over there to give Lois her homework since she missed class, and I ran into Clark." She looked up, and Harry saw anger mixed with the sadness. "He said some really mean things to me. I don't even know where it came from."
Harry nodded, waited while she stared at her hands. "He said nobody wanted me around, and that I'm just desperate for attention."
"He said that?" Harry asked in surprise. Clark was always so polite whenever Harry was around him.
"Yeah. There's more, but I really don't want to repeat it." Her hands balled into fists. "I know Clark. He'd never say stuff like that, not even if he was mad at me. It's like … he was a different person."
Harry tapped the table, thinking. Lana sniffed, stood up abruptly, and said, "I'm just going to go study. Tell me if you want to go get dinner later." She fled upstairs.
He sat there for a minute before getting up. He stepped out onto the porch and looked across the fields. The Kent farm was visible from here. He didn't bother with driving. Instead, he cut straight across the field. As he crossed it, he thought about what Lana had said. If Clark really had said those things, something was seriously wrong. Harry doubted that Lana was exaggerating. She was too honest for that. If anything, she was downplaying it. And the way she'd described Clark … like he had been replaced … something was definitely going on.
He reached the Kents' place, and Harry saw Clark exiting the big, red barn. Harry walked over. "Hey, Clark," Harry called out.
"Hey, yourself," Clark responded, leaning on the barn door.
Harry instantly knew that his smile was fake. Clark's eyes were always kind, even when he was annoyed, but this Clark's eyes were cold. "What's up?" he asked.
"I just came by to see how you were doing," Harry said. He kept his tone light. "And to check on Lana. She's pretty upset, you know."
Clark shrugged. "She'll get over it."
"Yeah, probably," Harry replied. He watched Clark closely, searching for any flicker of the old Clark. "She said you really laid into her."
Clark brushed some dust off his shirt, not really caring about anything else. "I told her the truth. Nobody likes being told they're annoying, but maybe she needed to hear it."
Harry's lips pressed tight together. "Funny. You don't usually talk like that."
Clark laughed, but it sounded wrong. "Maybe I'm finally growing a spine."
Harry nodded and pushed gently, searching Clark's mind. He suddenly saw memories that didn't belong. Harry saw things like dark oak offices, whiskey glasses, silk ties, high-class prostitutes, and the smell of expensive cigars. It wasn't difficult to discover that it was really Lionel Luthor in there. Harry had never met the man, but the owner of this mind was a narcissist through and through. He was already planning to declare the triumphant return of Lionel Luthor to the world once he had conquered it. The truly shocking part was the discovery of Clark's powers. Lionel Luthor with Clark Kent's powers was a very dangerous combination.
Clark watched him, and his lips curled into a smirk. "Is there something on your mind?"
"I was just wondering if you're feeling okay," Harry said. "You seem a little off."
Clark's eyes flashed. "Actually, I'm just starting to feel like my real self."
"Maybe," Harry agreed. "Well then … I'll leave you to it."
Harry tipped two fingers in a mock salute and walked away. He circled around the barn and stopped, turning himself invisible. He focused, reaching back into Clark's mind.
He watched Lionel's distorted memories. There were visions of cold, steel bars, a prison cell, and men with shaved heads and tattoos. Harry could practically taste the fear. Harry skimmed the memories until he saw Lionel looking into a mirror and seeing Clark's face staring back. There was a rush of panic, relief, and then a feeling of invincibility. Lionel had never had a body like this before. He reveled in it.
Harry exhaled and opened his eyes. He felt sympathy for Clark, who was locked away in Lionel Luthor's physical body. Harry apparated away.
Back at the house, Lana was in her room with the door closed. Harry didn't disturb her. Instead, he went to his room and powered up the computer. He typed "Lionel Luthor news" into the search bar and hit enter.
Within seconds, he found what he needed. "Lionel Luthor, Metropolis industrialist and philanthropist, is currently serving a life sentence in Kansas State Penitentiary …" Harry clicked the article. The photo showed his mugshot.
Harry sat back and thought about what to do. Lionel had somehow swapped bodies with Clark. Harry was sure of it. He'd seen it in Lionel's mind. He checked the time. It was a few minutes to five. If he hurried, he could get to the penitentiary before Lana even knew he was gone. Harry quickly used the internet to find out exactly where the prison was located. Once he knew where he was going, Harry turned off the computer and got up.
He walked outside, turned himself invisible, and launched into the air. Flying still gave him a rush. He loved the freedom, the speed, and the wind against his skin. He aimed straight for the penitentiary and accelerated well past the speed of sound.
On the way, Harry thought about what he would say to Lionel. He grinned. If anyone could handle a body-swap mission, it was him, but first, he had to find Clark and figure out how to swap them back.
The penitentiary loomed ahead, surrounded by a sprawl of razor wire and floodlights. Harry circled once before landing inside the fences. Still invisible, Harry looked through a window and apparated inside.
Inside, the penitentiary was hot and stuffy, despite it being nice and cool outside. It didn't take long for Harry to find the main cell block. Orange jumpsuited prisoners shuffled in single file along a catwalk, guarded by three beefy corrections officers with bored expressions. Harry apparated past the sliding mechanical door and floated above the walkway, invisible to everyone below.
He scanned the rows of cells. Each one was barely wider than a closet. He drifted along, making sure not to bump into anyone. It took less than five minutes to find the cell. Inside, Lionel Luthor sat cross-legged on a battered steel cot, talking quietly with his cellmate. The guy was kind of goofy-looking, and he wore a very small black beanie on his head. He looked very out of place. The walls were covered in drawings and pictures of strange symbols. Harry even spotted a picture of the same symbol that was tattooed on Lana's back.
Lionel's face looked terrible. He was gaunt, the skin under his eyes was bruised purple, and his hair was greasier and thinner than in his mugshot. Harry stood outside the door and listened in. The gangly guy was rambling about Stones of Power.
Harry let himself slip into Clark's mind. Clark was desperate to get back to himself and terrified of what Lionel was doing with his powers. It was all very understandable and expected.
Harry apparated to just on the other side of the door, still invisible. He waited until Clark's cellmate turned away, then jabbed his finger at him. A green bolt of energy shot forward and hit him in the back. The cellmate slumped forward, unconscious before his head even hit the pillow.
Clark jumped to his feet, and Harry could see panic blooming across his face. "Edgar?" He rushed to the man's side, checking for a pulse.
Harry materialized in the center of the cell. "Relax, he's just sleeping," he said.
Clark spun around and nearly tripped over Edgar's shoes. "What the …" Clark's eyes were wide and disbelieving.
Harry reached out and caught his arm, steadying him. "You've got some explaining to do, Clark," he said, grinning.
Chapter 14
Harry stepped forward and reached out, catching Clark's arm before he could stumble into the cell wall. The body felt frail, and Harry had to brace him with both hands to keep him upright. "You've got some explaining to do, Clark," Harry said, fighting down a laugh that threatened to bubble up at the absolute absurdity of their situation. "Or should I call you Lionel?" He looked pointedly at the name stenciled onto the orange jumpsuit, then back at Clark's panicked expression.
Clark didn't answer right away. He stared at Harry as if he were a hallucination. He looked down at his own trembling, age-spotted hands. He drew in a shaky breath and looked again at Harry, searching his face for any sign of a trick. "How … what …?" he stammered.
"The hows and whats will have to wait until we get you back in your own body." He gave Clark's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "But enough about that. Let's talk about you and your new look."
Clark tried to stand taller, but the borrowed body sagged under the effort. "This isn't funny, Harry," he said, his tone less indignant and more pleading. "You have no idea what it's like …" He cut off, swallowing hard, and his Adam's apple bobbed beneath sunken skin.
Harry took in the cracked lips, the trembling hands, the eyes too old and haunted for anyone's comfort. "Yeah, I'm guessing it sucks," Harry said gently. "But we've got to be quick. You need to tell me how this happened and how to fix it." He glanced at the door, where the guard's footsteps echoed past on the catwalk. Time was tight, and any rescue would have to be fast and quiet.
Clark slumped onto the edge of the cot. "I came here looking for a special crystal. I saw that Lionel was about to touch Lex with it, and I jumped between them. When we both touched the crystal, I guess Lionel and I switched bodies."
He pointed at the dirty metal mirror bolted above the tiny sink, and his hand trembled with every word. "I saw his face. Lionel Luthor's face … staring back at me." He shuddered. "He's inside my body, Harry. He's back in Smallville. He's doing things … I have powers, Harry. He could be using them to hurt people …"
"Yeah, I've noticed the change in attitude," Harry said. "He's being an asshole to Lana, and who knows what else. As far as I know, he hasn't done anything too crazy. But first things first, do you know how to switch back?"
Clark nodded. "I'm guessing I just have to touch his skin with this," he said, pulling out a stone that looked to be part of a larger set. Harry examined it from a distance.
Clark pressed his hands to his temples, shut his eyes tight, and tried to block out the grinding sounds of the prison block and the muttered curses from distant cells. "I've been trying to collect these stones," he whispered. "There are three of them. Lionel was obsessed. He thought they'd give him ultimate power, or immortality, or something. He even had Edgar framed and brought here because he's an expert."
Harry's eyes lit up. "That's good," he said, already trying to come up with a plan. "So, all I have to do is bring your body here?"
Clark fidgeted on the cot and shook his head. "It won't be that simple," he muttered. "I'm not sure how much you know about my powers, but Lionel's got them now. I can bench-press a bulldozer without trying, and I'm faster than a bullet, and …" He looked up at Harry, his face twisting with shame. "I don't think I could beat myself in a fight if it came to that. Not even you could, Harry. If Lionel gets wind you're onto him, he'll run, or worse."
Harry rubbed his chin, weighing the options. "He won't run. He's too arrogant. He'll want to test his powers and gloat. Especially if he thinks you're locked away for good." He paused, and his eyes drifted over Clark's new, ruined body. "And besides, I'm not exactly without powers myself."
Clark managed a weak smile. "I guess not. You're not exactly normal, either, are you?"
"No, I suppose I'm not," Harry answered as he paced a lazy circle over the concrete floor. "Here's my plan," Harry said, finally halting to face Clark. "I'll bring the body-snatching bastard here. You'll handle the switch, and I'll get us out without being seen. But how do we make sure it's really you in there afterward? What if something goes wrong?"
Clark thought hard, and his brow wrinkled into deep creases that hadn't been there the last time Harry saw him. "We need a code word. You know, something you could ask me that only the real Clark would know."
"A code word," Harry repeated, rolling the idea over in his head. "How about… I don't know …"
"How about Krypton? No one but me and my parents knows what that is. Lionel won't." Clark quickly suggested.
Harry smiled and nodded. "Krypton, it is then. Good choice. Okay. You just hold tight. Don't do anything that'll get you shanked by your new friends. I'll be back as soon as possible."
Clark looked at him with a mixture of hope and desperation. "Thanks, Harry. I don't even know what I would do if I were stuck in the body for the rest of my life."
Harry shrugged, but there was a note of gentleness in it. Clark had clearly been through some stuff. "Rescuing people is basically my after-school job. Consider the first one on the house," he joked.
Harry then vanished with a pop, leaving Clark alone with the unconscious Edgar. Clark sat alone on the cot, staring at the cell wall and the crude pencil drawings of symbols he couldn't even decipher. His mind reeled. He wondered if Harry would actually be able to pull this off.
Harry materialized outside the prison and took flight. The penitentiary shrank behind him as he rocketed skyward. The Kansas prairie flickered below in a patchwork of cornfields and pot-holed roads. He hovered high in the air for a moment and took in the sight. Harry gathered his thoughts and imagined what Lionel would do with absolute power and no conscience.
He banked hard and hurtled toward Smallville.
The Last Guardian
Harry hovered several hundred feet above the Kent Farm, motionless except for the fluttering of his hair. He scanned every inch of land, from the split-rail fence to the red barn, looking for Lionel. To the east, a dust cloud trailed a combine in a neighbor's field, but all Harry's attention was on the yellow farmhouse and the figure exiting through the kitchen door.
Clark's body walked with the measured pace of a man who knew he controlled everything in sight. The steps were confident, his back was straight, and his chest was puffed out. Even from up here, Harry could see the smirk on Clark's face, and he watched Lionel's eyes move left and right, never once bothering to check the sky.
A rush of excitement went through him. He hadn't had many opportunities to test his powers. His mind raced through the plan. Hit him hard, keep him off balance, and don't let him run away. The risk was exhilarating.
Harry's skin rippled green as he called his power to the surface. It started as a shimmer at his fingertips, then poured over his body in a wave. A suit congealed out of nothing. It was midnight black with thick bands of deep emerald. It was tight enough to show every muscle. A mask appeared over his face, hiding every trace of his identity. There was nothing about the figure left floating above the farm that screamed "Harry Potter," which was entirely the point. He didn't want Lionel to know who he was.
He watched Lionel reach the end of the driveway and look up, as if he sensed something. Harry sucked in a long, slow breath, and his green power pulsed as he dove.
In less than a heartbeat, Harry was a green flash rocketing toward Lionel, and the force of his descent parted the air in a shockwave. Lionel barely had time to glance upward. The impact was more satisfying than Harry had imagined. The green bolt hit Lionel dead center, and Clark's body went sailing backward like a rag doll in the jaws of a tornado. He smashed through a fence, took out a telephone pole, then splintered an oak tree before crashing to a halt in an empty field half a mile away. Even after everything, Lionel was already climbing to his feet by the time Harry landed. Harry hovered a few feet off the ground.
Lionel straightened up. His shirt was torn open at the chest, and the pale blue undershirt underneath was already shredded. Lionel tilted his head and wiped some dirt from his face. He stared at Harry in open contempt, then glanced down at the trail of wreckage left behind. A single, hard laugh escaped him.
"You could have just said hello," Lionel called out in Clark's voice. He already sounded incredibly smug. Harry had obviously never met, but he instantly knew he was a jackass.
Harry hovered with his arms crossed, expressionless behind the mask. "You're coming with me, Lionel."
Clark's face twisted into a sneer. "That was quite the punch. Who the hell are you supposed to be anyway?"
Harry didn't answer. He flexed his hand, and the air sang with green light. He gestured, and a half-dozen energy constructs lashed out for Lionel. Long, snaking bands grabbed his ankle and shoulder, and another one wrapped around his throat. Lionel moved with insane speed, tearing free, but for every band he shredded, two more snapped into place. Harry pulled, yanking the body forward, and Lionel slammed face-first into the ground hard enough to tear a trench into the ground.
Lionel roared in anger. He tore himself upright, spraying dirt everywhere, and sprinted forward at an impossible speed. Harry barely managed to sidestep. Lionel's fist caught the edge of his shield and sent him tumbling through the air. The next second, Lionel was on him, his fists pounding. Each blow was like a small explosion. Harry blocked most of them, but the force still rattled his bones. He retaliated with a point-blank burst to the face, which sent Lionel flying again, but Lionel just rolled and rebounded. Then he let out a laugh.
"This is incredible!" Lionel shouted, running his tongue over his teeth. "That blow would have killed a normal man, but I barely felt it!" Lionel then cracked his knuckles. "You should feel honored to be my first test."
Harry let him talk as he circled, waiting for Lionel to get cocky enough to slip up. He fired more constructs, and the jagged spikes forced Lionel to dodge or risk being impaled. Lionel went straight through two of them, splintering the green energy with sheer brute force. Harry darted behind him and wrapped Lionel in a full-body bind. He slammed him to the ground so hard the soil liquefied for a second.
Lionel didn't stay down, though. He popped up, streaked toward Harry, and the two collided midair with a crack that sounded like thunder. They tumbled together for a hundred yards before Harry broke free and whipped a thick, glowing cable around Lionel's throat. He jerked, spun Lionel like a lasso, and planted him skull-first in the center of the field. The impact sent thousands of pounds of soil flying into the sky.
Harry landed lightly at the crater's edge and stood over Lionel. "Give it up, Luthor. You have no idea how to properly use Clark's powers," he said.
Lionel staggered to his feet, wiped his mouth, and grinned. "Oh, but I'm a very fast learner." His eyes suddenly glowed red, and two streams of red light caught Harry by surprise. They raked across his chest, leaving scorched trenches of flesh in their wake. Harry cried out in agony as he vanished from sight. Less than a second later, he reappeared behind Lionel and flung his hand forward. His own beam of energy erupted from his palm. He struck Lionel in the back and fried his skin. Lionel threw his head back and screamed. Harry wouldn't have been surprised if they heard his scream all the way in Metropolis.
As he bellowed in pain, Harry closed the gap and landed a brutal punch to the ribs. The blow made Lionel double over, but he recovered almost instantly and swung at Harry with both hands. Harry leaned back, let the fists whistle past, then caught Lionel by the wrist and spun him overhead before slamming him into the ground again.
Lionel lashed out with a foot, catching Harry in the side. Before his body could rocket back, Harry enveloped himself in his glowing green power. Pain flashed through him, but Harry didn't let up. He used his green power to wrap Lionel's limbs tight. Harry then lifted him a hundred feet in the air and slammed him down. The thud was almost comical.
For a second, Lionel just lay there. Then he started laughing and coughing. He rolled over and pounded the earth with his fists. "You're good," Lionel said, and he sounded almost appreciative. "But you're not as good as me." He leaped up, faster than before, and blurred into a streak of pure speed. Harry lost sight for a half second before seeing the telltale blur coming at him from behind. He ducked, spun, and brought up a shield. The punch still knocked him fifty feet backward, but he landed on his feet and skidded to a stop.
"Getting tired yet?" Harry asked.
Lionel grinned. "I'm just getting started."
The battle went on, and Harry started improvising, but Lionel was relentless. He broke every construct and punched through barriers, using every ounce of Clark's stolen strength. He even tried his heat vision again, but Harry was ready for it. He conjured a mirror and sent it right back at him, scorching his own face.
Somehow, they made it back to the Kent farm and crashed through the barn, reducing it to splinters and dust. They flattened the fence and uprooted a tree behind the house. Every time Harry knocked Lionel down, Lionel came back stronger, faster, and meaner. Eventually, Harry realized he wasn't going to win the fight through strength or endurance. Clark was just too physically strong. Still, Harry had other powers that he had been holding back on.
Lionel paused for a moment, breathing heavily. "What exactly are you?" he asked. "You're too powerful to be a common meteor freak."
Harry shrugged. "Let's just say it runs in the family."
Lionel lunged faster than a bullet, but Harry was ready. When Lionel got close, Harry brought his hand up. His palm was glowing with scarlet light. He slammed his hand into Lionel's temple and let loose a point-blank stunner.
The explosion of red light was silent but absolute. Lionel stiffened, his eyes rolled back, and he toppled like a sack of bricks.
Harry watched him for a second, letting the suit's mask dissolve. His own face reappeared, sweat beading on his brow. He felt a little silly for not thinking of this trick first, but at least he could appreciate the drama. Besides, Harry wanted to test his powers on a real opponent for a change.
He knelt down, checked Lionel's vitals, and nodded. He was out cold. Harry looked around and winced at the sight of the destroyed barn. Harry held out his hand, and the rubble glowed green. Within seconds, the broken boards, bent nails, and splintered beams had put themselves back together. When he was done, the barn was back to its former glory. He wrapped Lionel's limp body in a green shell, hefted him under one arm, and vanished.
By the time he was gone, the dust had already started to settle. There was a vague sense of guilt at the state of the Kent property, but he shrugged it off. It wasn't the first time he'd wrecked a field, and it probably wouldn't be the last. The only evidence of the fight was the path of broken fences, shattered trees, and a massive pit in the middle of a field. And if the people of Smallville saw anything strange in the sky that night, well, that was just life in Smallville.
The Last Guardian
Harry reappeared inside the prison cell with the limp weight of Clark's real body draped over his shoulder. Clark's cellmate, the scrawny conspiracy theorist, was still face-down and drooling onto his pillow. Clark jumped up from his cot and nearly lost his balance. His eyes went wide at the sight of himself, battered, bloody, and slung over his shoulder like a sack of wheat.
"Careful," Harry said, setting Clark's body on the cot. "We don't want to damage the merchandise." His own left arm was slashed and swollen, and there were purple rings under his eyes. Lionel's superstrength had left a few marks.
Clark-in-Lionel's-body approached his own face and looked down as if he were meeting his identical twin for the first time. Harry could almost see the thoughts rattling around in his skull. What if this doesn't work? What if I get stuck like this? He didn't have time for that.
"I need you to hurry, Clark," Harry said. He pointed at the stone, clutched in Clark's pale, wrinkled hands. "We need to get out of here as soon as possible."
He pressed two fingers to Clark's body, and green light flooded the cell. Their bruises faded, cuts zipped shut, and the burns healed. The swelling around Harry's own arms and knuckles eased. Within seconds, both of them were mostly healed.
Harry withdrew his hand and watched the healing finish. "There's no point in sending you back into an aching body."
Clark swallowed hard and gripped the stone between his palms. He glanced at his own unconscious face, and for a moment, Harry wondered if he'd freeze. But then Clark's old resolve clicked into place, and he pressed the stone against his body's hand. Instantly, the air thickened and vibrated with static. The stone flashed white-hot, and Harry turned his face away to keep from being blinded.
There was a woosh, and Harry heard a grunt. Both bodies stiffened before their backs arched. Lionel's body then crashed to the floor. The stone hit the concrete floor with a high-pitched clang and bounced under the cot.
The sound died, and Harry began to hear yelling from the other inmates. He knelt by the cots. Both bodies were breathing, and he shook the real Clark's shoulder. "Oi. You alive in there?"
Clark blinked up at him, and his eyes were glazed and confused. He tried to clear his head while his mouth opened and closed like a fish struggling to breathe. Harry waited.
"Code word?" Harry prompted.
Clark licked his lips, then smiled weakly. "Krypton." His face was still filled with shock, but at least the fear was gone.
Harry gave a little nod. "Welcome back."
There was a dull thunk from the corridor outside, and then heavy boots on concrete. The guards were coming, and from the sound of it, there were more than just a few. Harry reached under the cot, snagged the stone, and dropped it into Clark's palm.
"Time to go," Harry said, and before Clark could protest, he grabbed him by the shoulder. Clark felt like his body was being squeezed through a tube as they vanished from the cell.
They rematerialized in the hayloft of the newly repaired Kent barn. Clark immediately puked up something clear and sticky onto the floor. He then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Harry sat down and waited for Clark to pull himself together. "The first time traveling like that is always the worst," he amusedly stated.
Clark straightened up, clutching the stone in a death grip. "I can't believe you actually pulled it off," he said, sounding very glad Harry had.
Harry shrugged and rolled his shoulder. His body was still aching from the fight. "Somebody's got to keep you out of trouble." He looked over at Clark. "How do you feel?"
Clark flexed his fingers and stared at his own arms. "For the first time in days, I feel like myself." He grinned, and it was so earnest that Harry almost felt embarrassed to witness it.
A few seconds later, Clark noticed the blood on Harry's torn-up and burned suit and reached over, worried. "You're hurt."
"It's nothing," Harry said. "I've healed the worst of it, and the rest will fade in a few hours." He stood up and dusted himself off.
Clark shakily walked around, testing his legs. He was already healing, but his movements were tentative, like a man who didn't trust his own body. Clark had probably gotten used to moving around in Lione's weak body. "What happened to Lionel?" he asked.
"As far as I know, he's back in his own body," Harry said. "He'll likely remember everything, so you should probably keep an eye on him. But at least he won't have your powers anymore."
Clark nodded, and Harry could tell that he was worried about what Lionel might do with that information. "Thank you, Harry." Still testing his body, he picked up an old, rusted pipe wrench, bent it in half, and set it aside. "Seriously."
Harry looked away, not wanting to make a big thing out of it. "Just another day in Smallville," he chuckled. "You might want to get out of here before the neighbors start asking about flying green men."
Clark laughed, and the sound was warm and real. He clapped Harry on the shoulder. "So, what exactly are you?"