reunion-of-sorts;

[teleportingly.livejournal.com]

When; February 27. Today!
Rating; PG-13 for violence & threats, ohnoes!
Characters; Lana (luthored) and Alicia (teleportingly)
Summary; They're certainly the last people anybody ever expected to ever see again; after all, one of them was dead, and the other one was presumed dead. And it is here, and it is now, that they come together again for a little reunion-of-sorts.
Log;
Alicia was dying to get out of the barn. Not that she didn't like it there, or that Clark and Shelby weren't good enough company. It was just that the mass amnesia about things that happened on the twenty-fourth was throwing her off, making her suspicious.

She didn't dare ask Clark for reasons she couldn't really pin down.

Maybe she was worried that she had done something unforgivable (something even worse than trying to kill him and one of his closest friends or running away to get married), and bringing it up could separate them for good.

Or maybe he had done something bad, and while this was very hard for her to imagine, she knew Clark always stayed quiet for good reasons. And she wouldn't push anything out of him.

Not when she could always figure it out on her own.

Records in her journal pointed out that she had been in the Square that day, waiting for Clark to come meet her so they could spend some time together. People might have seen her there: people who remembered, people who could tell her what she had gotten up to.

Alicia had resolved, a long time ago, to start looking for ways to apologize to people when apologies were due. But she knew she couldn't do it alone, not without someone to help piece that day together.

She started scanning the crowd, hoping for someone, anyone, to recognize her, and to help her.

Before she had to start forcing them to help.

Comments

[luthored.livejournal.com]

Ever since that little warning Alicia had distributed over the Network, Lana had been very careful. As she had read it, it almost felt as if there was cold steel once again being pressed against her throat. It was disorienting to see someone from so very long ago, and to remember what they had done.

She had supposedly been rehabilitated though, hadn't she? Those murders hadn't been committed by her... But here she was, back to her crazy games. And really, murderer or not, Lana wouldn't forget the threat Alicia had been to her own life, not to mention the crazy threats from a few days ago.

It was thanks to Robin and his roommates' charity that she had a place to stay and food to eat, but it was the odd jobs, such as helping that talking cat install a hidden security camera, that kept spending money on her pocket. ...A talking cat. It was difficult to get stranger than that.

Unless, of course, you were Clark Kent or Alicia Baker.

Lana had purchased a new wig this time around, something that blended in much more easily, falling in light brown curls just past her shoulders. The sun was setting, but she kept her sunglasses on, not risking the chance of being recognized just yet...especially if Clark was out and about. Fortunately, it was easiest to hide in a crowd.

Alicia was difficult to follow, only because she didn't really have much of a pattern. Did she even know where she was going? It was after twenty minutes that Lana realized that Alicia was lost. Clearly she wasn't with Clark.

Slipping through the mass of people was easy enough, and soon enough she was right behind the blonde, and seconds later there was a soft, unmistakable click as the barrel of a semi-automatic pressed against the small of Alicia's back, hidden in the darkening evening.

"Alicia," came Lana's soft, surprisingly friendly voice. "Long time no see."

[teleportingly.livejournal.com]

There was nobody she knew in the Square: or nobody that knew her that was willing to step forward. It was disconcerting to think that nobody wanted to help her, but Alicia knew this was what she wanted; she had told Clark as much.

I want to go to a place where nobody knows who I am, she had said, or what I did. Where she could shed her sins and her ghosts easily. Without regret or second thoughts.

She did not want to give up so easily, but she knew that she might have to: without a post on the Network, it was doubtful that anybody remembered her; there were tons of blondes of her age and stature in the City, and she blended in too well.

Not well enough, however, to escape a certain someone. Someone with a gun. Pointed at her back, its lead weight familiar and cold. She was trapped now. She wasn't going anywhere.

And that voice. Long time, no see.

Different now than it used to be. But she'd recognize it anywhere.

She dare to turn her head around to discover that she was right: it was none other than Lana Lang staring right back at her. She looked much different, Alicia thought, more elegant, sophisticated.

But darker, too. She wanted to think that it was just the shadows ofthe setting sun or Lana's sunglasses imposing it on her.

But there was no escaping it: she was darker, more dangerous. And Alicia hadn't any choice.

"Lana," she choked out, finally, very small and very much afraid. She wanted to start apologizing--did I do something bad to you, Lana?--but instead she compromised with: "I didn't even know you were here."

She wanted to say something like Clark didn't tell me you were here, but the darkness still put her on guard.

"Nobody mentioned you," she said, trying to make herself sound as innocent and detached as possible.

She was getting the feeling that it wasn't working.

[luthored.livejournal.com]

As Alicia glanced over her shoulder, Lana pressed the gun a little more firmly against her back. Despite how confident she looked, she wasn't taking any chances. This girl was unpredictable.

"That's because nobody knows. And I'd like to keep it that way for now." It was hard to tell if there was a hidden meaning, a threat laced in that warning...but Alicia was the only one capable of murder here, right?

Finding the sunglasses obsolete now, Lana reached up and slowly slid them down as she analyzed this girl standing in front of her. What a sweet innocent act. Lana would never fall for it.

"It figures the City would give someone like you a second chance. Or are we just back to your first chance? Seems like you haven't changed at all, really." There was a pause, but it didn't last long. "Why don't we take a walk? Xanadu's beautiful at night. You'll love it."

[teleportingly.livejournal.com]

The gun pressing tighter against her back reminded Alicia of the position she was in. In this game, Lana held all the power, and all Alicia had to do was make sure she didn't get shot (again). She hated this: having her options cut off, being forced to play someone else's game.

But she had wanted answers, and this is what she had received. She had to make the most of it.

"You know that people would be happy to see you," she said truthfully. A girl like Lana had a place anywhere. And Alicia knew Clark would be happy to see Lana too, even if she wasn't quite how they remembered her.

Then she thought, belatedly, that she was probably not getting into Lana's good graces by saying that. Think before you speak, she reprimanded mentally; any mistake could be her last.

"My first chance? I don't--" she started, but quickly shook her words loose. If Lana knew anything about what she had done that day, then she would wait to hear her own explanation. Defending herself prematurely wasn't helping at all.

"Lead the way, then," Alicia said, compliant, willing. You could get somebody to do or say anything when they're facing the business end of a gun; why would Alicia be any different?

[luthored.livejournal.com]

Her own pulse was erratic as she pressed forward, slipping around so that she could walk almost at Alicia's side, the large sleeves of her coat keeping the pistol from gleaming too blatantly in the city lights. It almost appeared as if she was just guiding her new friend around.

Lana was afraid, of course. No matter how she had changed, she was human, and fear was something she often experienced in many levels. She simply didn't let it slow her down.

By now, she had expected Alicia to try something. After all, Lana knew she had special powers... What was hindering her? Was that just part of the act? "Clark doesn't need to know I'm here. Not unless I'm the one to tell him." And she wasn't offering any explanations, because Lana didn't owe her any.

She remained quiet until they neared Xanadu, it's expansive gardens reminding Lana of what she knew Central Park was supposed to be like. Only it was probably far more dangerous at night.

"What's the last thing you remember before entering the City, Alicia?"

[teleportingly.livejournal.com]

It scared Alicia to notice how ordinary they looked. Like two friends, like something you saw every day. She knew calling for help wouldn't be possible here, and with the lead, teleporting or running away wasn't an option either: she knew bullets well enough to knew they hurt, and she didn't want to face them again.

Alicia knew better than to press Lana on why she didn't want Clark to find her; she guessed that maybe they'd had a bad fight, or secrets got in the way, or something similar. But it was business that belonged to the two of them, and something she had no say in. She only hoped they'd reunite without too much trouble.

The last thing she remembered. She hadn't told anyone before what had happened; it didn't surprise her that it took her a while to find her words. "I found Tim in my barn," she said, quietly. "He was stealing things from me. To make evidence, to frame me for what he was doing. Then he...he drugged me, and then..."

She didn't want to elaborate much further; she could already feel tears stinging at her eyes, and she didn't want to be weak in front of Lana. "Then I was gone," she finished, without any special emphasis, happy to be done.

ooc; I'M SORRY I TOOK SO LONG, FEEL FREE TO STRIKE ME ;_;

[luthored.livejournal.com]

Lana didn't slow her steps or let herself falter as she listened, but her features did soften somewhat. Lana had been wronged, but so had Alicia. Still, she wasn't going to be let off the hook yet just because of some sob story they both already knew.

"So then the last thing you remember, you weren't a sociopath obsessed with Clark? That's funny, because a couple of days ago you weren't making any secret of it." She shot her a careful, judging look.

"But with a gun pointed at you, I'm sure you'll try any kind of sweet talk you can manage. How convenient that you're suddenly clueless about threatening people for getting close to Clark. Really, you're just making your case worse by acting."

[teleportingly.livejournal.com]

"I wasn't, the doctors said I was--" She cut off suddenly. Obsessed. That sounded familiar. All too familiar, to be honest.

Had she regressed on that day? Was there something about her condition that Dr. McBride had forgotten to mention? It was just so frustrating that she couldn't remember, couldn't give Lana the straight answer she needed.

"I'm not acting," she said, knowing Lana wouldn't believe her as far as she could throw her. But the truth was all she had. "I think...there was something weird happening on the twenty-third, and it wasn't just for me, either. But you could ask a lot of people about it, and nobody remembered. Like the day didn't even happen."

She sounded crazy. All of it sounded so much better in her head. But it was the only thing she'd been able to deduce (somewhat) logically from the journals, and it was all she had with her. (If it earned her a bullet in her head, she wouldn't be surprised.)