Basic Code

II

II.

Normally Clark did manage fine during what he called his monthly 'time outs'. His adoptive parents had been the ones who had figured out what to do: back in Kansas, they'd usually prepared a tub full of ice, to help Clark lower down his temperature and stay calm. As he'd grown older, taking a couple of days off to walk in the Himalayas or in the polar regions wasn't so bad. The world could be so beautiful even when it was empty.
Two months after his strange talk with Zod, though, Lois grew bored with her role on the society desk and had somehow wrangled an assignment on the war desk. Perry had been extremely reluctant, even as he had arranged an escort. Worried, Clark followed Lois from afar, even though the growing restlessness under his skin told him that he was leaving his time off too late. He was glad that he did: predictably, everything went quickly to hell - but he was lightheaded when he was finally carrying Lois to safety, and she stared at him in surprise as they flew.

"Clark," Lois said uneasily. "You're sweating."

"Uh. Everyone sweats?"

"You feel really warm... Are you coming down with something? Can you even get sick?"

"It's a once a month thing," Clark admitted. Lois' weight felt reassuring in his arms, but it wasn't enough - it was wrong, somehow. Dizzy, Lois yelped as Clark abruptly dropped a metre in the air, though he recovered quickly into a hover.

"Clark!"

Clark looked around desperately. He'd intended to fly Lois to the closest American embassy, but something was wrong, he was getting warmer and- "There's an American army base close by. Can I...?"

"Yeah. Sure. Just. Don't push yourself, all right?" Lois said worriedly. "Are you going to be all right?"

"I'll be fine." He could hear something chattering in Arabic, then another voice in American English. Radio waves, the satellites, noise-

"Clark! Clark, put me down. I'll walk there from here. We can walk. I'll try to call for help."

"We'll make it." Clark clamped down on his fraying control, flying them the rest of the way to the base, dropped off Lois with the surprised sentries, and jetted off, going as fast as he could up, up, into the stratosphere, where it was colder. Cold enough for his mind to clear. He checked on Lois - she was talking earnestly to the sentries, showing them her press credentials and passport. Breathing out slowly, Clark waited until Lois was being politely escorted into the base before turning away, angling towards the North Pole. Somewhere colder. He needed to be colder.

The flight was a blur, and some part of Clark wasn't in the least surprised that he had flown down to the scout ship instead of to the North Pole as he'd intended. He got as far as one of the broken entryways before the ground and the snow seemed far more inviting, and then he was cheek down, melting the snow into slush, dizzy again. He could almost smell that comfortable warm animal musk. Almost.

It was growing stronger by degrees, then Clark was inhaling gratefully as warm fingers pressed against his throat, then checked his eyes. Somewhere in the distance, Zod was cursing in Kryptonian again. "I really should leave you here." Zod muttered, and sighed as Clark made a sound of distress and grabbed for his wrist.

Clark felt himself being picked up, then he was being flown somewhere. Deeper into the ship. He could smell the fluid insulation, the strange burned-plastic stench. Ship was saying something in concern, but Clark wasn't listening. The only important sound was Zod's heartbeat, steady and slow.

"Ship, corrective stasis."

"Insufficient faculties, General Zod."

"Typical," Zod muttered, and Clark whined and twisted as he felt himself being lowered into oddly warm fluid. "Shh, shh. Don't fight. You'll be able to breathe. Close your eyes." The fluid grew quickly colder around Clark, and he would have let out a grateful sound if he could, submerged, still loosely held in Zod's arms. Dimly, he could still hear Zod speaking. "Synthesize the pheromones he needs, Ship."

"Insufficient faculties, General Zod. The Genesis Chamber remains critically damaged. However, Ship notes that you carry the alpha gene."

Zod grunted. "I know that. But my genetic code was edited at birth to fix the traits. I can't generate alpha pheromones to the level that he needs."

"Regardless, Kal-El appears to be deriving some manner of comfort from your presence. His vitals are stabilising."

"On hindsight, this is also typical," Zod said, resigned. "Curse that Jor-El. Since the Academy, he's always been leaving me to clean up his spectacular mistakes."

"The omega geneseed is a natural genetic pattern for the Kryptonian species," Ship said reproachfully. "Compared to the 'beta' pattern, which was synthetically created."

"Nothing's been purely 'natural' for thousands of years. Besides, there's a reason why we edited the omega trait out of the general population and made most of our people betas. There's not even a need for the alpha gene outside of the military guild." Zod tried to pull back, but grumbled again as Clark whined and tugged him closer. "Look at that," Zod observed in distaste.

Sorry, Clark wanted to say, flinching. Normally, he wouldn't have cared about what Zod thought, not entirely. Now, however, disapproval seemed devastating. Hands stroked his shoulder and back in careful comfort, and Clark relaxed, floating, safe.

"There are benefits to the omega geneseed," Ship was saying.

"Only for natural childbirth."

"Had you sensed that Kal-El was an omega during the battle you would have let him defeat you."

"I knew he was an omega," Zod said curtly. "We scanned him when I was trying to extract the Codex."

"Records indicate that alphas are incapable of aggressive behaviour towards an omega."

"Pure alphas, maybe. And I didn't really fight him," Zod conceded quietly. "If I did, he would be dead."

Clark stirred, a question worming down through the fog in his mind, curious, but he ended up sleeping instead. Peace was safety and a warm weight, curled against him, fingers stroking down his spine.