Justice League 1. Ch1 Checkmate

I'm still new to the game, so this is a very, very late response to Fenris Shadesekker's red kryptonite challenge where Clark gets infected by Smallville style red-K (episode: Crimson). This is also part of my ongoing deals with Ashlee (fics for videos) and Hellacre (fics for fics).

**Summary**: A peace mission to a distant world results in behavioral changes in Clark. Mayhem ensues as the formbook gets thrown out the window and our fave Kryptonian takes a walk on the wild side (If you know me, you know damn well what I mean, LOL). This piece of fiction, like most of my others, is set in the universe of the DCAU, post-JLU, and is an unapologetic, absolutely shameless and straight up (or not so straight up) offering of SM/WW goodness. Of course, there's some twisted OOCness to be encountered in the latter half of the story. Well, it's within expectations for a red K-infected Clark (or at least in my mind it is, LOL).

**Disclaimer****: **I've said it before- I own absolutely nothing here, DC and Warner Bros do. If I owned them, things would be radically different, Clark would actually shine on a regular basis and of course, Bruce Timm would've never got his paws on Superman _or_ Wonder Woman in a million years. I'm just an overworked senior resident doing this solely for fun, not profit; so don't sue me. If you do, you won't get a cent in any case.

**Rating**: **Rated M** for exploration of mature themes, especially in later chapters. Do not, I repeat, do NOT read further if you're below 18 years of age or are uncomfortable with descriptive scenes of nudity and explicit sexuality or violence (of any variety, hehe). If you're 18 or above, and are comfortable with this sort of thing and enjoy this pairing, then buckle up and enjoy the ride. This one's for you :-D

You've been forewarned— this one's a bit towards the dark end of the spectrum. You don't like the pairing, then stay away, and do me a favor— refrain from flaming me for the heck of it. I've dealt with enough of that sanctimonious nonsense and can live without that, thank you.

Thanks yet again to the effervescent Angelic Enchantress for the beta and invaluable inputs. You got the first peek at the story. Are you happy now?

As always, feedback is highly appreciated, especially advice on how to improve this. I'm sure there are a million ways to do so. So come on people, please read and review!

Without further ado, let the games begin. Have fun. I know I did ;-)

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**_Code Red: CRITICAL MASS_**

**By **_**Cael-El595**_

**Ch 1: Checkmate**

**Centauri V, the fifth planet orbiting Alpha Centauri:**

Galatea sat on her throne in the Centaurian courtroom her husband, Overlord Ragnor had taken for himself after seizing absolute control of the planet. Normally, such matters bored her to tears, but today was different. Today, they had visitors from other worlds, representatives of the Justice League, come to negotiate peace and the safety and dignified release of the overthrown king, Telnas IV. None of that interested her. But there was one, a legend across the known universe, who caught her eye.

There he was, in the flesh himself, standing in front of her. Unmistakable for anyone else and carrying a noble bearing on his handsome face. He was a lot larger than she had thought he would be, standing tall at a towering six feet five inches, with a frame so well defined that she could tell he had not a spare ounce of fat on his body. This was of course accentuated by his clothes, which were almost primary in design, so that he came off as rather austere in appearance — like a knight who had just made his pledge, only with lots more style. He had a skin-tight blue uniform that hugged every muscle from his chest to his calves, a red and gold belt around his waist and his feet in red boots. A rich crimson cape fell from his shoulders, contrasting the blue hue of his outfit, as did the large red and gold pentagonal shield that she'd read was a family crest. It did him credit, the symbol managing to emphasize his already impressive physique. His eyes were blue, a more vivid shade than she'd ever seen in anyone, and they sparkled with intelligence and warmth. All in all, a very pleasing sight indeed. But there was something else. He appeared weary, like he was carrying a burden.

Or maybe he was, seeing as he carried the weight of an entire race on his shoulders, and now he was here to broker the safety of another.

Galatea supposed that was what came from being a god among men. She had met several vastly powerful beings before in her long, very tired life. Although they had all been highly variable in appearance, they were all bonded by the same curious apathy, a deadly confidence that could only come from possessing near- invincibility. This one seemed different, with no sign of that apathy in his eyes, despite the fact that he was undoubtedly as invincible as those very demigods. It was as if he didn't consider himself one. Well, that was fairly obvious. After all, here he was, parleying like an equal instead of lording over them and delivering ultimatums.

She had done her research on this one. He was older than the rest of the seven, this _Superman_ — 35, or so it said. He didn't look 35. He looked younger, but nevertheless, exuded maturity beyond his years and virile energy that pulled her to him. He also looked human, despite the fact that he wasn't. More than his human phenotype, he exhibited the organic behavior of his adopted world instead of the sterile mindset of his lost home world, like so many citizens of Earth. She wondered how he had found Earth, that mass of slavering, debauched revelry, with its own peculiar sense of grandeur. She had no wish to ever find out, not that she'd be able had she wanted to.

_I am a Magmasapien. I was created to entice and seduce men over the centuries. It is the very purpose I was created for. I would have it no other way._

Then why was she so sad?

Another who was dressed similarly in red, gold and blue, and yet was so different accompanied him. She had heard about this one, the heroine known as Wonder Woman to all, and Diana as she had been christened at birth. Galatea found her rather interesting. It seemed this woman was an Amazon, sentient clay infused with life, not unlike herself, except that this one was created mystically rather than by a process of scientific intervention— of genetic manipulation. She was just his friend, they said, his second in command, though she looked more like his lover. She would make for a worthy adversary indeed. Diana was, by far, the most beautiful woman she had ever encountered. She was taller than the average woman, taller than herself and almost as tall as him in fact, with elegant curly raven hair. She exuded sexuality and innocence in equal doses. In fact, they complemented one another perfectly. She represented the feminine ideal, and yet was a warrior without equal who had embraced the role of a teacher; he was the masculine ideal, yet a pacifist foremost who still fought for what mattered. When they melded together, they would flow into one continuous cosmic stream, like a yin to a yang, neither knowing which was which. The creative force coupled with the power of nature.

She found it so perverse she wanted to clap her hands in glee.

Diana had loved him, so it seemed, before she had ever met him. It was written all over them, even if they were unaware of it. But it was painfully obvious to Galatea in the way this Amazon looked at him. It was evident in the way whenever her passion threatened to turn to anger; his hand on her arm would calm her. It was destiny written at Diana's birth; she had been fated to do so. Soul mates, created for each other. And yet, they were kept apart, forbidden from having each other because he was besotted with another, a human. Such passion, and it was all locked away from each other and from themselves.

How deliciously tragic.

Galatea wondered what that felt like. Love that was preordained. Love encoded in one's genetic makeup. Oh yes, she had no doubt Diana loved him, and he her. But more than that, she wondered what it was like to be denied. And by something as inherent as their own innate sense of right and wrong, their honor.

And what about this? This fascinating attraction she herself was feeling for him now? Had she been fated to do so as well? Was this part of her purpose?

Kal. The name rolled off in her mind liquidly. It was so simple and practical, yet suggestive and seductive. Kal. The name opened up myriad possibilities with its connotations, like the twists and turns of a labyrinth or the delightful secrets locked away in the puzzle that was the mind. The name suited him like it could suit no other. She wondered what it would feel like to actually say his name on her tongue and luxuriate in its sensuality.

Oh, but she was becoming as debauched as those humans.

Her husband was droning off again, of course, that egotistical imbecile. Oh, but he could talk. And he was talking, of course, on and on, the syllables flowing into one another like the asteroid belt surrounding his home world, all about his status as he continued to throw his weight around, dictating extravagant terms and conditions. She had stopped listening long ago. He was so boring he was becoming the very bourgeoisie he despised.

And then he spoke. Kal, the legend of the universe himself. He was saying something to her husband, like "You already know why we're here," and "No, thank you. That won't be necessary." He spoke earnestly, with unmistakable sincerity and passion. She liked his voice. It was young and vibrant, with a resonant timbre, and she found it strangely appealing.

She was finding everything about him appealing.

Later, her husband would go after her, this woman who looked like she was created to fulfill fantasies and try to add her to his not so secret harem, just for the challenge of it and to feed his galactic sized ego. He knew that she knew about his little love trysts; it was almost as though he was daring her to do something about them.

_And maybe I will, my love._

Sadly though, she understood the reason as to why he had to have his little releases. Immortality could be its own curse, the initial passion burning out to make way for disillusionment and apathy. His little games were what still kept the fire burning. And the why of course. The knowledge of that why gave her power.

It was a rare union of souls that produced a love that was everlasting, one that withstood the ravages of time; that resisted entropy. She could read emotions like a book, even through the heavy veils guarding these two. She could feel the aura they gave off together.

All too abruptly now, Ragnor was ending the meeting. With a threat, naturally, as with the nature of all things connected to him. With an arrogant swagger, he got up to leave.

"Where are you going?" she asked him, knowing the answer all too well.

"Please my dear, affairs of State beckon." He nodded dismissively at his unwelcome guests, "Consider this discussion closed."

Kal was none too pleased, his voice like steel, "This isn't over."

_Go then, my love. _She had already made up her mind.

She watched the visitors being escorted to the transport capsule. Kal. She liked watching him. He moved with an easy confidence, a purposeful stride. She wondered how he would look fitted in royal robes. If things went according to her plan, she might have to wonder no longer.

They would be in for a surprise, these visitors from the star system Sol. She would make sure of that.

Arising from the throne, she exited the court through a back door and took a private capsule down to the ground floor, where she knew they would arrive. She wondered what he thought of her. Was she beautiful to him? She knew she was beautiful to look at; there was no doubt about that. She stood tall and svelte, with exquisite, gold-flecked light green eyes, a shimmering blue carapace on her shoulders, and titan hair falling to her shoulders in rich curls. Her kind had evolved to invoke desire. But perhaps he was too far-gone with his human mate to even notice anyone around him anymore.

There was only one way to find out.

She waited in front of the main pod tube. She didn't need to wait long. The doors yawned upon, and she found herself staring at him again. And his confidante.

"If you want to save the King and Queen," she said, training her eyes on Kal, "follow me."

She swept them into one of the recreation rooms, as good a place as any to discuss this. There was a man in there, cleaning the Grecian looking fountain in the center of the room.

"Get out," she ordered. And he did, scurrying away like a terrified little hare.

She strode to a mirror on the wall, and took out her lip-gloss. "I'm so sick of his warmongering, that overgrown brute." She gazed at Kal's reflection in the mirror as she delicately outlined her lips. The bright light shone off his skin, giving it a sun kissed glow. On him, it was very becoming. "A long time ago, when we first met, it was so different. _He_ was so different. Back then," She paused, curving her lips up slightly. "He used to be a lot more like you."

When he didn't reply, she turned. "I will give you what you want, but first, there's something I need from you."

"What?" he asked.

She breathed in sharply. Really, she didn't stand to lose anything, "I want you to make love to me."

"Come again?" Diana interjected, her voice laced with an edge.

"That's what I said." She turned her gaze upon his friend who loved him so and didn't even know it. The poor girl. Her voice betrayed her true feelings. Like all Magmasapiens, Galatea could see right through the emotional firewall.

"A night with him, that is all I ask. It's a small price to pay really."

It was amusing to look at them both. The corner of Wonder Woman's mouth was twitching with barely suppressed rage. Superma- _Kal's_ face recovered its composure, though she could tell he was a little shocked by her effrontery. Let them get used to it. After all, she had been created to be hot-blooded and provocative, and she was enjoying every moment of it.

"Why?" Clark finally asked.

"You love each other, don't you? It's all over you both. There was a time when I knew what that felt like. I want to sample it again, remember what it felt like, that's all."

Neither of them responded to that. More significant for Galatea in their silence was the absence of a denial. Eventually Diana spoke up, "We don't have time for these games," she said, "King Telnas' and Queen Magdala's lives are at stake here. Ragnor might execute them any minute."

"I'm an empath. We'll be in a dream like subconscious state the whole time. My clan has mastered the technique. It is a world within the mind, quite a feat of psychic tuning, I assure you. It is a skill my kind are renowned for. What might pass perhaps as a lifetime in it would seem only mere minutes to you here. I promise you, he'll be returned to you before you even know it. And then I will deliver to you what you came for- the King."

When they did not reply, too stunned, as she noted with pleasure, she added, "Think about it. Talk about it, if you must. But don't take too long. Remember, my husband is ruthless and his generals are swift."

She'd made the first move, set this deadly game in motion. That would do for now. Everything else would fall into place in no time, in ripe position for a checkmate, she was sure of it. Satisfied with that knowledge, that she'd drawn first blood, she stood back, waiting for them to recover from the numbness they no doubt felt so they could process her offer.

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TBC

_A/N: So, what do you think? Loved it? Hated it? Just let me know all the same, as long as you can give me your reasons why you hated it. Confused? Don't be. Galatea's recognizably inspired by certain DCU characters, some obvious ones and some not so obvious ones. Which ones they are shall become clear in coming chapters. Until the next chapter, take care._

Cael


	2. Ch2 A Choice

**Last time, on Code Red: CRITICAL MASS:**

"_I will give you what you want, but first, there's something I need from you."_

"_What?" he asked._

_She breathed in sharply. Really, she didn't stand to lose anything, "I want you to make love to me."_

Standard disclaimers apply. Superman, Wonder Woman and any other syndicated characters are the intellectual property of DC and Warner Bros.

Thanks of course to Angelic Enchantress for the beta and invaluable inputs.

**Rating:** Still **Rated M** for exploration of themes, especially in later chapters. Enjoy!

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Code Red: CRITICAL MASS

**By **_**Cael-El595**_

**Ch 2: A Choice**

There was an outpouring of emotion channeling through Diana at this moment that she could barely decipher - she only knew it involved rage - immense rage - bewilderment, chagrin, confusion, disbelief, irrational fear and back to rage again. She felt an unfamiliar flushing heat rise up her cheeks, and tried to contain it, as though it were possible to contain such emotion. What an embarrassment it would be if it showed, and especially in front of that damnable seductress.

How dare that woman! How could she even conceive of something as low as that? The incredible temerity of it all. She was not even human, she was a lump of mud, and maybe that was why. They didn't have values or feelings. But who was she to say that, being a clay golem infused with life herself? And Kal wasn't human either, despite having lived as one all his life. Surely, no one could accuse either of them of being bereft of values or emotions, or a soul for that matter. The presence of a soul was essential to her very purpose, the spirit of truth channeled through her lasso to dispel any untruth.

Then why was she, who was said to be incapable of deception, deceiving herself? Why in Hera's name did this bother her so much? This was so confusing for her.

No. Not Kal. He was the one person who understood her, the one who meant the most to her. They had been through so much together. He was such a pure soul, noble and selfless. He didn't deserve this.

She had never felt as close to anyone else in the outside world as she was to Kal.

She remembered the first time she'd ever seen him, fighting off the Imperium. She had been in awe of his stellar power at first, mistaking him for a god. Over time she had come to appreciate his tenderness, his warmth and compassion. He was still idealistic, a pacifist who thought there was a peaceful solution to everything. For all his power and despite his masculinity, he radiated an aura that was immediately both otherworldly and fragile. He wasn't as invulnerable as everyone thought. Nothing was farther from the truth.

She would have to protect him.

She would spend most of the rest of her life thinking that. No matter what superhuman powers he possessed, no matter how many times he flew encircling the world, saving it, she would always have to be there for him. Maybe he knew that too, because he seemed to need her as much as she needed him. It was unconscious on both their parts. She had just been too innocent to see it.

It was the entire package — his strength, his vulnerability, his earnestness, his whimsy, and his commanding aura — that had won her over. Kal was a man of fascinating paradoxes, but she'd had a long time to decipher his enigma, to unravel his various layers.

And now she would have to make a choice, because he was looking at her once again for direction (or was it permission?) on how to proceed with Galatea. The damned woman was looking smugly at both of them...oh, that woman knew how to get a rival into a tizzy.

Diana felt like pulling out her sword and impaling that infuriatingly knowing face.

What was to stop her actually?

_Calm down Diana. This is no time to lose your temper. _

She drew her blade anyway before anyone could object, although she had no intention of actually pushing the blade down that fatal distance- after all, they both knew Galatea was vital to their mission, the one who held the key. It was more to show the woman that she was no easy pushover, and that there would be severe consequences should she pull any nasty stunt.

"I could pierce a hole in your head where you're standing right now."

"But you won't," Galatea replied, still maddeningly in repose, like the sculpture of her namesake, "You need me and you know it."

"Diana," Clark cautioned, sounding remarkably composed despite everything. He nodded to Galatea, "If you would excuse us, the two of us will have to talk this over."

"Of course. I'll wait outside. When you've made your decision, just let me know." Her lips turned up in a knowing smile as she sashayed off.

Diana watched the lithe malevolent figure in that tight dress slink out of the room. Her fingers were still gripping the hilt of her sword; tight enough for her knuckles to turn white. The fact that the sword was still in one piece was ample testimony to the quality of Hephaestus' craftsmanship.

"There has to be another way," she said as soon as Galatea was out of earshot. "We could find out where Ragnor keeps the King. He's got to have him in a room somewhere- "

Clark looked at her, "But there's no time. Ragnor's a Dra'axonian, one of the masters of manipulating the time-space continuum. They specialize in this sort of thing. King Telnas and Queen Magdala could be anywhere. Even with our powers, it could take days to find them. We don't have that luxury Diana. It'll be too late by then."

"What are you saying Kal?" Diana could barely suppress her rage, "Are you willing to go through with it with that… creature? Is that a choice you're willing to make?"

Clark wouldn't look at her, "Diana, it's only a dream. A projection of thoughts. It won't be real."

She gritted her teeth, "Damn you."

"But lives are at stake here Diana. And we all have to make sacrifices. You of all people should know that."

Diana felt as though she would implode. She had always relied on Kal, and now that he was turning towards her, she could sense the cogs in his brain clicking. Hera, he couldn't be contemplating it, could he? Not him surely.

"Diana," Clark said in a low voice. "We don't have time. I've done many things that I'm not proud of – all those people that other Superman lobotomized, all in the name of the greater good... if we count him and that other one that turned Metropolis into a police state over Lois' death, I'm the worst sinner out here." He shook his head sadly. "Some hero I'm turning out to be." He chuckled humorlessly, "I'd always thought heroes were supposed to be pure, clean and innocent. So this...tryst is nothing. It's just a mind game, that's all. It's no different from what you agreed to with Alcmaeon."

"You weren't exactly supportive back then," she spat out. Gods, why did this have to be so hard?

"No, I wasn't. And that was a mistake. I was foolish and shortsighted."

She closed her eyes. This was too painful. And too confusing. Suddenly, she felt the need to look into his eyes, to see him revealed before her. As though reading her mind, he complied, lifting her chin up and turning her to face him. She opened her eyes; found herself staring straight into those gentle eyes, pleading for her understanding.

"I am not betraying anything we believe in. You know that," he looked away. "I've never been too good with words, and I don't know how to convince you otherwise. But this is nothing...nothing at all. It's just like being involved in a virtual simulation, like one of those Amazon Special programs we always use."

_The nerve of the man_, she thought. How could he even equate those programs with this affair?

It was really unbecoming of her to be this jealous. She was an Amazon, a warrior, pragmatic and strong, and needless emotions would only serve to curtail her efficiency, which was exactly what was happening now. Curses, she was being twisted in and out, getting hormonal and becoming everything she had always been told was a weakness for a woman. She wanted to lose herself in battle right now, a proper diversion from this sinking feeling in her gut. Aphrodite and Ares did balance each other after all. It was the way things had always been.

"It won't be real." He took her hand and held it against his cheek. "Always remember that." He squeezed her hand. "That is all that counts." He seemed to be trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince her.

"Yes, I know that." She felt as though her heart would break. He was right, of course. Every word.

She needed to hold him, needed to be sure though before she surrendered him to that woman. So she fell into him and enveloped him in a tight embrace, and while he stood still for a while, he eventually wrapped his own powerful arms around her and held her close, burying his face in her hair. _Tell yourself_, she thought, _that this is just going to be a temporary dream, soon to be forgotten. And if you can fool yourself into thinking that, you can rest easy._

She was no fool. She had never been one, except when it came to understanding her own heart. The wisdom of Athena made everything so clear, even when ignorance could be such bliss.

She told herself that she was worrying needlessly; that this was Kal she was talking about. But there would be something that would be irrevocably changed about him. After the event...she instinctively knew it. Call it intuition; call it a premonition, but she had a gut feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

"Go," she said, a curious sense of numbness spreading across her body, "before I change my mind."

He nodded and headed for the door without another word.

She watched him exit the room, a sense of foreboding settling all around her.

No good could come out of this, of that she was certain.

-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x-----

Clark's palms were sweaty, and he wished he could wipe them on his cape. But he had already stepped out of the room, and he found himself face to face with Galatea. It was the last thing he wanted to do – display nerves in front of her – even though his eyes betrayed everything. Damn his eyes.

But he couldn't hide it, he was nervous. That woman was making him nervous, eyeing him all over like he was some piece of meat.

It was not an unfamiliar situation, though he still found the going difficult. He was used to being so much the center of attention. Being Superman conferred a certain celebrity, one that could smother anyone. Everyone was looking to him to play some sort of messianic role; and it was one of the things that had influenced his awkward, nondescript persona as Clark. It afforded him some much-needed privacy and enabled him to retain his sanity.

"All right," he said to her, hoping he wouldn't stutter. "I'll give what you want. But how can we trust you?"

"You don't have a choice." Galatea's eyes glinted with amusement. "Are you developing cold feet, Superman? I should warn you this task is conditional. You have to make me believe I am your beloved." She looked at Wonder Woman, glowering in the doorway.

"You said this won't take long," Diana interjected.

"Yes. Twenty minutes. I will have him back here before you know it. Then I will deliver you to the King and Queen."

"And if you're not back by twenty minutes?" Diana asked in a strangled voice.

"Then you can tear this place apart. You will just have to trust me. Or better yet," she took the golden lasso hanging at Diana's girdle and looped one end around her wrist, "Trust this."

"What's to stop you from taking him away and killing him?"

"Diana," Clark said softly, "I can take care of myself." He knew what she was thinking. _No you can't, really. Hera, Kal, you need me to take care of you. It doesn't matter if you're _Superman_, and that you have all these superpowers. To me, you'll always be vulnerable._

Galatea seemed to turn inwardly pensive. When she finally spoke, the expression on her face was wistful, "Believe me, that's the last thing I want to do."

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TBC

_A/N: Well, there you have it. The answer to the pertinent question on everybody's mind- what would Clark's decision be? There's also another clue in this chapter to the puzzle that is Galatea. This chapter should help you all identify one or even both the DC characters that inspired the character. Many thanks to all who've read and given reviews for Ch1. It takes only a minute of your time, but it goes a long way towards motivating me to keep writing._

_The reference to the two Supermen that turned sinners is- you guessed it- Justice Lords and the Superman in 'Brave New Metropolis'. The idea for that is courtesy MeasureOfaLady._

_Until the next chapter, take care._

Cael


	3. Ch3 The Chamber

**Previously, on Code Red: CRITICAL MASS:**

"_What's to stop you from taking him away and killing him?" _

"_Diana," Clark said softly, "I can take care of myself." He knew what she was thinking. No you can't, really. Hera, Kal, you need me to take care of you. It doesn't matter if you're Superman, and that you have all these superpowers. To me, you'll always be vulnerable. _

_Galatea seemed to turn inwardly pensive. When she finally spoke, the expression on her face was wistful, "Believe me, that's the last thing I want to do."_

Standard disclaimers apply. Superman, Wonder Woman and any other syndicated characters are the intellectual property of DC and Warner Bros.

Thanks of course to Angelic Enchantress for the beta and invaluable inputs.

**Rating:** Still **Rated M** for exploration of themes, especially in later chapters. Enjoy!

_**

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Code Red: CRITICAL MASS

**By **_**Cael-El595**_

**Ch 3: The Chamber**

She led him down the corridor to a door. Producing a key from out of nowhere, she inserted it into the lock and waited. The doorway yawned open, revealing an enormous hall flanked by two curving staircases and another pod tube. The entire place was lit by gleaming chandeliers, and decorated with marble busts and statues that seemed reminiscent of ancient Greece. On the walls, myriad pieces of weaponry of various levels of technological sophistication hung like a grim reminder of more sinister times.

"This is where you live?" Clark asked. He was trying to make conversation to ease his nerves. Since he was going to get to know her a lot better, it wouldn't hurt to be amicable.

"Most of the time. Follow me."

He followed her into the pod taking them upstairs, silently noting all the exits and doorways, just in case he had to make a sweep, or if worse came to worst, an escape. Was there no one around? His boots sank into the plush carpeting, and he felt as though he was taking a museum tour. He had been to the Palace of Versailles once, and to Diana's embassy a couple of times, and ran into her at a ball in Prague, all on assignment of course. He never vacationed abroad as Clark anyway.

Oh boy, he'd kept a respectful distance even from Diana. And now...

They arrived at another door. She produced another key. "Where are we going?"

She smiled at him, "You'll see." Clark nearly gasped at the sight that awaited him on the other side of the next door.

He found himself standing in front of a vast hallway, with green and gold columns and massive windows covered with stained glass. Outside, colors seemed to collide as he saw a series of staircases that twisted in defiance of everything he'd ever learnt about Einstein, Newton or Hawking. Before his very eyes, people stepped through doors only to reappear upside down on the bottom surface of a platform through another door. And was that an enormous narwhal 'swimming' in space?

She led him further, opening doors that seemed to alter the laws of physics and reshape the world in tune with her will, the scene constantly changing.

"You're doing this?"

"No, the Morphean chamber is. It's like a dream," she said. "Here, we are in a microcosm of our own. Time moves differently here than in the physical world."

"Faster or slower?"

"There are no parallels. Over here, time is like a river. It flows how we want it to."

"Wow." In all his years of space travel, he had never encountered anything like this. And he'd thought Torquasm-Vo was the ultimate out of body experience.

"Are you always this contemplative?"

"Just trying to work out the puzzle, that's all." It was a major mind bend, one that he'd remember for seven lifetimes.

"A man of science," she said pleasantly. "But enough of this. We have business to attend to."

Ah yes, unpleasant business. He suddenly remembered why they were here. It was a pity. He would have liked her a whole lot better if she had wanted to talk a bit with him instead of getting down to business.

He'd never been very good at romance. Even back in Smallville he'd kept Lana at arm's length because he thought he was destined to be alone forever. He'd felt that way, burdened ever since he learned who he really was. But all that had changed when he moved to Metropolis and ran into Lois.

He loved Lois with a deep, deep fervor that could only come to those who lived life dangerously, on a razor edge; as though every day would be the last they would have together. He lived in perpetual terror of losing her, because he was as close to being invincible as any man could be, and she was painfully mortal. The thought of her succumbing to one of the perils that he faced everyday filled him with dread. It was something too ominous to even speak about.

He blinked, musing uneasily to himself. Yes, and then there was _her_. Diana. The woman was quick-witted and spirited, and could knock most men's heads off their shoulders with a well-aimed kick. And yet, there was that other side to her that he knew so well, gentle as a flower, her azure eyes large and honest, completely without deception, and brimming with life. She laughed, often and unrestrainedly, and boy, did her eyes light up when she did. She was kind, and tender; he let his breath out in a slow exhale as he remembered the gentle touch of her fingers on his hair as she had bid him farewell. The easy friendship that they had enjoyed for years was now colored at the edges with a glowing red heat, and he felt it every minute he spent with her. He still kept a safe and respectful distance from her around the others, but he would catch himself watching her lips as she spoke, gaze at her alluring throat as she laughed with her head thrown back; and every now and again, he would feel her eyes on him, following his movements when she thought he didn't notice.

And oh boy, were they ever passionate in their defense of each other against any criticism.

And now he was expected to reproduce that passion; that spellbinding overwhelming abandonment that would come only fleetingly in a lifetime with this woman who was a little too hot-blooded for him, one who was only looking for a flame of the flesh without the igniting spark that came from the spirit. It was going to be even more difficult than he initially thought.

Galatea led him through the hallway, their footsteps echoing in the unearthly silence, past another intricate maze of color and sound and into another smaller hallway, speckled with smooth black and white tiles. At the end of the hallway was another shuttle pod awaiting them, its doors invitingly open.

"Do you use this often?" he asked her.

"As and when." A bemused smile twitched on her features. "Are you always this polite?"

He had no answer to that. Inside, she depressed the top button, and he privately noted that they were nine floors altogether. He wondered about the number. One for each level of hell? Because, what was this, if not a deal with the devil?

The pod's doors slid apart and she beckoned to him to follow. They were in a castle, decorated in a seamless convergence of medieval and futuristic themes, with heavy draperies and gold tassels, and embroidered rugs and furniture of the finest elegance, alongside some newfangled gizmos and consoles, and a few holographic projections depicting various scenes of her home world's life. It was a very feminine room, and very opulent. Not to his tastes, but he supposed it was at least comfortable. Of course, nothing was going to make _him _comfortable right now.

In one corner, there was a table laden with a bowl of fruits.

"Would you care for something to drink?" She asked.

"Yes please." He hoped that would help him relax. The castle opened into several rooms, one of which was the bedroom. The door to that was ajar, and he could make out a huge bed with solid bedposts, constructed from what looked like the local equivalent of mahogany, gleaming with white silken fabric and an inviting comforter.

He really didn't want to go in there yet.

He turned, and found himself looking into her eyes. She was staring at him with an expression of what he could only describe as wonder.

"You have such innocent eyes," she remarked after what seemed like an eternity. "So pure. And so beautiful. I never expected to see that in you."

"I'm not as innocent as I look," he said wryly. She had no idea.

She seemed to collect herself. "I'll go get the wine. Chilled?"

"Yes, thank you."

He watched her disappear, and began to unfasten his cape. Underneath, he had the small compression pouch that hid his shrunken civilian clothes; the ones Diana had always insisted he needed to rethink. In fact, she found the large glasses unnecessary, tad overkill.

"_Your dress sense is terrible," she'd once chided him when they were alone in Metropolis, "Especially those glasses of yours. Your face wasn't made this beautiful only for you to mar them with these hideous things," she'd finished, her disgust evident in her tone as she lifted the thick frames from his eyes. She wasn't exactly a fashionista herself, but then, she looked absolutely ravishing even in a flag-swimsuit._

_He had bemusedly agreed, blushing slightly at her unexpected comment on his looks, and at his own unbidden thought about hers. Thankfully she hadn't noticed._

God, even in this timeless alien construct, he could find traces of her. Maybe that was a good thing. If he psyched himself to truly believe she was there, and if the bedroom was pitch black - with a really good imagination, he could sustain that pretense for half an hour or so. Yeah right, like anything was ever that simple.

Morosely, waiting for Galatea to reappear, he sat himself down at the table and reached for the bowl of fruits.

When she re-entered the room, a decanter of Centauri's finest chilled red wine in one hand and a couple of wine glasses in the other, Galatea was stopped short by the sight of Kal sitting at the table. He was sucking at the seeds of what resembled a pomegranate with such a melancholic expression on his face that she wanted to hold him.

Did he have any inkling of what she had in mind?

Even she herself was not fully convinced she was going to go through with it. She wanted to see, feel, touch, and taste what he was like first. So far, she found herself drawn to him on a much deeper level than she had thought she would. Most men fell prey to her raw seductive power almost instantaneously, it never mattered whether they were married or attached or single. Her almost animalistic pheromones overwhelmed them before they had a chance to even react to her physical beauty.

But not him. Perhaps he was impervious to her chemical charms. She suspected nevertheless that the problem was psychological rather than physiological. He was still thinking about his human mate, and his Amazon confidante. He would probably view this as an act of betrayal, no matter how much he had tried to convince himself that it was not real.

She felt a pang. Men like him were a rarity in her world. He was a gem to be treasured, too good for the likes of her. Though that unbidden, fleeting thought had crossed her mind...the temptation to begin it was too deliciously sinister to pass up...

_No_. _Wait_.

She did have the power, the choice was all hers to use it.

She walked carefully to the table, setting the decanter and glasses down. He looked up.

"Shall I pour you some wine?" She asked him, amused to see him do a double take. She had changed into a flowing, almost translucent Grecian green dress that accentuated her full womanly curves. She knew she was a stark contrast to what he was used to. She was fleshy and voluptuous, like a depiction of ripe femininity, a startling reminder of the Amazon.

"Yes, thank you," he replied, not meeting her eyes.

He was flustered, she could tell. She had always been piqued by shy men, and he was more passive than any she had ever met before. It was a strange trait to belong to one such as he, but she'd seen enough paradoxes in the universe.

He downed the glass of wine she had poured him in one gulp. When she amusedly poured him another, he emptied it as well.

He was trying to get himself drunk. She almost felt sorry for him. Whoever had his heart was a lucky, lucky woman.

When he drained his fifth glass and reached out for a refill, she put her hand on his. "I think you've had enough."

He agreed. "It's not you, you know," he said almost apologetically. "It's just the circumstances."

"Of course." She took his hand in hers, gazing into his eyes. His hand was warm, very alive, and she felt a kindling inside her. Leaning over, she pressed her lips against his in a chaste close-mouthed kiss. He seemed hesitant. Then, abruptly as if making his mind about something, he responded; kissing her back slowly, still close- mouthed, but with a rapidly building hunger.

She liked the way his lips felt against hers. They were soft, moist and succulent, and they tasted of the wine he had just drunk. He would be so easy to love, really. The way he was so easy to look at; with his soft, gentle blue eyes that wore a perpetually bruised, questioning expression; his marvelously sculptured features and his unusual spectacular beauty that had divine craftsmanship written all over it.

_You have to take the lead in this, because he won't._

Gently parting his lips with her tongue, she probed tentatively, sizing his response. He did not resist, and allowed her to continue this exploration, his arm creeping around her body to steady himself. She felt his lips pull against hers in a gentle sucking intensity, and a plethora of his emotions assailed her - She felt his confusion at the newness of his world; the purity of his love for this Lois- she knew his human mate's name now; the calm resignation he felt towards his burden; the strength of his bond with Diana and the spiritual connection and physical attraction he felt towards her that he was trying unconvincingly to deny.

So, he did feel something for that Amazon. Maybe there was some hope for herself as well.

She pulled apart before she could drown into him.

"Come with me," she said huskily, leading him into the bedroom. He hesitated for just one moment before he obliged.

If he wanted to be honest with himself, Clark had to admit he was feeling slightly tipsy, and definitely not himself. In a way that was good, because he wasn't sure he could do this when he was himself. Okay, maybe more than just slightly tipsy. The dire thing was - he had to admit again - he was horribly attracted to Galatea. Why wouldn't any man be? She had the face of a goddess and the body of a supermodel. But he wasn't any man. He was better than this.

Lois and Diana's faces kept intruding themselves into his mind. And their voices ringing in his ears.

_Breathe_, he thought. _This isn't real_.

The bedroom was again very feminine, all white silk and embroidered lace, but it was comfortable enough, with heavily patterned palmettes and draperies lining the windows, shielding out all the light. There were several lamps and projectors placed strategically around the room, designed to give off as pleasing a glow as possible, to create a conducive environment. Clark felt weird in this pleasure palace, dressed completely in blue, standing out like a shadow amidst all that gleaming white. And a masculine contrast to the feminine aura pervading the room.

How would he even start? This was something he was so not good in.

"I think I need more wine," he announced.

"No you don't," Galatea said gently, taking his face into her hands and kissing him again. "Just do what comes naturally."

He felt himself responding to the kiss again, closing his eyes and tasting a vision that was part Diana and part Lois. The wine was making him light-headed, suggesting that there was something in it that could have an effect even on him, and the room was spinning a little. Or maybe it was her perfume. Whatever it was, he found himself hardening as she kissed him voraciously on the mouth, over and over again, as though she was trying to absorb him. Her hands were tugging at his shirt, and he helped her ease it off.

"So firm," she said, stroking his sculpted abdominal muscles. "And so alive. Such beauty. Have you always been like this?"

"No." He was beginning to feel more at ease, but still not enough. "In my civilian life, I'm dressed in loose suits and large glasses all the time. You wouldn't find me very attractive at all."

She smiled at that, "Somehow I doubt that. You'd still be the same man. And what about you, Kal? Do you find me attractive?"

He wasn't going to lie. "I think you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met." And really, she was. Even if she belonged to the other side, nothing would ever change that. She was almost as beautiful as Diana.

"Would that be enough for you?" He caught just the faintest hint of sadness in her voice. "Or would you want me to put out the lights so you can pretend I'm someone else?"

Deep down inside, he thought she was just a little girl. Wronged by so many men in her life, sitting in front of a total stranger, begging to be loved. Something about that touched his heart deeply, and he felt a pang.

"No, that's enough for me," he replied, kissing her again and pushing her down against the bed.

He tasted divine, just like she knew he would. She was glad he didn't insist on turning off the lights. She wanted to look into his eyes as they kissed, wanted to see herself mirrored in them once he was inside her.

Through his deep, searching kisses; the feel of his skin brushing against hers; she could soak up his very essence like a sponge. She had yet to meet a spirit such as his - his incredible nobility, his compassion and empathy for those he protected, and his judgment in the face of right from wrong. He was not an innocent, as he had suggested. He was a modern-day warrior, a crusader of many battles. And indeed, there was something very chivalric about him. And sorrow. A sense of loneliness that came from being the last of his kind, a survivor's guilt.

It was a stretch to ask him to make her believe she was his beloved. He could not do that. Through him, she could feel his overpowering love for his Diana- that deep, undying emotion that was something approaching rapture. Such a love, so blinding in its intensity and so rich in its depth, could only spell doom for its partakers if it was cut short by fate. If either of them were to lose the other, the one remaining would surely wilt away, unable to sustain any enjoyment in life thereafter; for reality henceforth would be only poor consolation.

She knew now that he loved Diana as much as he loved Lois, even more if that was possible. He found her beautiful and earthy, as lush as she was feminine, and was drawn to her honesty and innocence. She could read the word he had framed in his mind to describe her: Goddess. She was divinity incarnate to him, a true testament to her namesake. His deification of her allowed him to separate his devotion to her from what he felt for Lois, who represented humanity to him.

But oh, Galatea could fall in love with him so easily. Already, she could feel this long-forgotten but once familiar emotion beginning to take root inside her.

_I'm sorry, Kal, but I don't really want this to be over. I have to do what I must. Please, forgive me._

Then, all of a sudden, he stopped kissing her, and pulled away in a cold sweat.

"Sorry," he apologized as soon as he caught his breath. "I can't do this."

She sighed. "No. You don't have to be sorry. I understand." She sounded sad, resigned. He really was immune to her.

He rolled away and lay beside her, looking at the ceiling, still bare-chested, "I'm sorry to run, but I really should be getting back."

"Time works differently here. You can spend the night here with me. It would make no difference." She squeezed his hand. "Please do. Just lie with me. Give me that at least."

"Are you doing this to get back at Ragnor?"

"Probably," she said truthfully. "But mostly because I enjoy being with you. You're not like other men I've encountered."

His face lit up with a genuine smile. "You know, Galatea, you're not really a terrible woman. In this life I'm already taken. But in another life maybe...if we'd met under different circumstances."

He was hovering too close to the truth, so she said no more and let him drift off to sleep, still holding his hand. For a while, she watched him, admiring the way the shadows played in the contours of his chiseled features. When she was sure he was deep in sleep, she arose from the bed and crept out of the bedroom, her feet padding silently onto the plush carpeting.

She entered another room leading to the Morphean chamber's hidden wing, one that was guarded by a massive door only she had the key to. Opening a panel, she selected one known only to her, and cradled the tiny object to her bosom.

He was wrong about her. She _was_ a terrible woman for what she was about to do to him.

_Kal, I'm sorry. But I'm about to betray your trust._

She fought a rare and uncharacteristic bout of conscience, but eventually brushed it aside before placing the disc below his left ear.

-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x-----

Diana's heart suddenly lurched within her chest. Something had gone wrong, she just knew it.

They'd only been gone for ten minutes. But that woman had reneged on her deal, had done something underhanded, she was sure of it.

Her heart was fluttering in her breast, a disturbing thudding that was as unusual to her normally calm exterior as it was painful.

She struggled to collect herself as she considered her options with a growing dread. If something happened to Kal, she would never forgive herself. She would never forgive J'onn or Bruce. They had talked him into accepting this mission, damn them. Kal wasn't invincible, the way everyone seemed to think he was the rate they were going. It was always him up against some insurmountable odds, and he did it gamely, without complaining, without hesitation. He was risking his life for them everyday, facing threats that no one should have to face, and they, the League, and she were taking him for granted.

Damn them all to Tartarus, if they weren't in it already.

She was going to tear down the entire palace if she had to, just to make sure Kal was safe.

She knew she'd been told to wait. But when it came to Kal, all reason and rationality seemed to fly out of the window.

"Hera, forgive me," she said, unhitching her lasso as she rose into the air, "but I've to do this for a friend."

-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x-----

The moment he woke up, he immediately knew the world felt wrong.

He was lying on a divan swathed with red and gold sheets, propped up by an amazing number of pillows. Above him, a canopy of filigree curtains hung, bordering the bed in a cloud of transparent gold. The walls of the room were hung with heavy tasseled drapes, and there were plush rugs on the veined marble floor, all worked in the same pattern, but with blue and gold instead of red. There was so much blue and red and gold in the room that he thought he'd go colorblind.

_Blue always was your favorite color... _

He frowned. Now where did that thought come from? And more significantly, where was he?

He sat up in alarm. It was not so much a realization that he didn't know where he was, but that he didn't know _who_ he was. His mind was churning up an empty blank. Wait... there were images… but these were so fleeting and so jumbled he couldn't make any sense of the flotsam.

_Damn it, concentrate._ Within his chest, he was aware his heart was drumming up a frenetic staccato.

Then the images formed in his mind. Yes. A woman with long burnished flaming hair in a green dress. A pool in a center court, with a fountain in the middle. Lush gardens with olive trees and white marble statuary. Crystal ewers of spring water. A waterfall and a river. Wondrous flying machines capable of fantastic feats. A menagerie of exotic animals- a winged golden lion, a silver unicorn, a six-tusked pachyderm. None of it made any sense.

_My name, I know my name._ It was at the tip of his mind...something that began with…

The door opened and a young woman entered, carrying a crystal pitcher. She had dark braided hair that was wound around her head in a style he found both familiar and yet strange, as though his mind was in a dichotomy, split in two as to what was right and wrong. She wore an off-shoulder, sleeveless white tunic that fell loosely down to her ankles. Around her arms were gold circlets, with a pentagonal insignia of something he knew he should recognize worked into the metal.

She looked at him, and obviously something about him startled her, because her mouth gaped open in surprise.

"Hello?" he said uncertainly.

The pitcher fell and crashed onto the floor, shattering on impact. The woman's cheeks colored. He looked down, and realized that he was naked, and the sheets had fallen off.

"For… forgive me, Your Majesty," the poor girl was stammering, terrified, "I'll… I'll go get the Queen."

She rushed off, leaving him bewildered. Queen? What Queen? Again, it was something he knew he should have known, but his mind - which was at this moment more scattered than the light splitting into myriad hues on the shards of crystal across the floor - was refusing to accept.

He groped for the sheets and swung his feet onto the floor, hoping to make himself presentable before this Queen, whoever she was, arrived and pronounced some dire fate on him for frightening her handmaid. If only he wasn't so addled. He wasn't sure where his clothes were, or what they were supposed to look like, if he had any.

In fact, he wasn't even sure if he was supposed to be fleeing right at this very moment.

Crossing the room, he made a beeline for what he assumed was the bathroom, his bare feet taking care to avoid the debris from the pitcher. He found himself in a smaller room that was completely silver and ebony mosaic, replete with a square pool in the middle and several miniature animatronic fountains that sprung from faux granite daises, showering the place with a pleasant tinkling sound. There was a large mirror above a marble table against one wall, and to this he strode, still frowning.

He was almost afraid to look at the face in the mirror. What if it was someone he couldn't recognize? A pulse was throbbing painfully in his forehead now, and as his reflection stood before him - a tall, extremely muscular and imposing black-haired man with lightly tanned skin and puzzled, deep blue eyes - hand raised to touch his own at the surface of the mirror, as though in supplication. Two worlds colliding, divided only by a crystal barrier...and...

"Kal?"

He jumped. That was his name. Yes! Only it felt otherworldly, as if it didn't quite belong there. The titan-haired woman he had seen in his vision was standing at the threshold of the bathroom that wasn't quite a bathroom, dressed in the same green dress he'd seen her wear in his vision, a long dress made of gossamer material, translucent everywhere except over her more private regions. She looked hesitant, as though she was afraid to step in.

"Are you all right?" she asked again.

He was deliberating on how to answer, and decided on telling her the truth. "I… I'm not sure I remember anything... about who I am, or what I'm doing here…"

She drew closer, and he could see how beautiful she was. If beauty was equated to royalty in this weird little world, then he surmised that she had to be the Queen.

"Do you remember anything about the riding accident?" she pressed, " You crashed your Vulcan 5. You were unconscious for two weeks. We were worried about you."

Riding accident? He wasn't aware he rode anything called a Vulcan 5; even the word felt strange to his mind. An image of a sleek gold and bluish silver hovercycle zipped across his temporal recesses, and a very large, bellowing three-horned, bull-like animal charging at him.

"I… I don't remember."

"It's all right." She had come up to him now, and she was standing so close that he could smell her perfume. "It'll all come back to you. I'm just so glad you're awake..." She laid a slender hand on his cheek. "…My darling husband."

The memories came in a dizzying rush all of a sudden, and he knew it to be true.

TBC

_

* * *

_

A/N: So, there it is. Clark didn't go through with it after all, but there are consequences to this choice as well. What, you ask? And what about the red-K that was advertised? All in due time (or maybe I've already introduced the infernal rock in some way, who knows?). You'll just have to r & r to find out. Again, thanks to all those who reviewed Ch2. I appreciate it, and I hope this fic manages to hold your interest a while longer.

_Until the next chapter, take care._

_Cael_


	4. Ch4 The Man Who Would Be King

_A/N: Sorry for the inordinate delay folks, and thanks for being so patient. Senior residency and multiple personal and social obligations have been taking up all of my time as of late, and I'm out on a limb here. Anyway, I had to tweak these last two chapters, mostly reshuffling some content and adding an integral new scene in the next chapter, all to pave the way for the unfolding saga. So, do forgive me for keeping you waiting. I'll make it up to you all with both Ch6 of Code Red as well as Ch2 of Cael's Cut next week. Don't worry- neither story is forgotten or buried. Once I start something, rest assured that I'll see it through to the end._

**Previously, on Code Red: CRITICAL MASS:**

"_Are you all right?" she asked again._

_He was deliberating on how to answer, and decided on telling her the truth. "I… I'm not sure I remember anything... about who I am, or what I'm doing here…" _

_She drew closer, and he could see how beautiful she was. If beauty was equated to royalty in this weird little world, then he surmised that she had to be the Queen._

"_I… I don't remember." _

"_It's all right." She had come up to him now, and she was standing so close that he could smell her perfume. "It'll all come back to you. I'm just so glad you're awake..." She laid a slender hand on his cheek. "…My darling husband." _

_The memories came in a dizzying rush all of a sudden, and he knew it to be true._

_._

Standard disclaimers apply. Superman, Wonder Woman and any other syndicated characters are the intellectual property of DC and Warner Bros.

Thanks of course to Angelic Enchantress for the beta and invaluable inputs.

Oh, and before we proceed, it's appropriate for me to clarify that whatever Galatea says (or thinks) in this chapter and in upcoming ones is not how I see it, nor do I intend to justify or support her actions in any way. It's just her own skewed view of things plus I'm attempting a quasi-sympathetic portrayal for her. I had to point that out since a couple of ladies have asked me that, worried that I might actually favor the villain of the story. Rose and Diana Grey, I've cleared that up for you. Satisfied now?

**Rating:** Still **Rated M for Mature** for exploration of themes, especially in later chapters. Enjoy!

* * *

**Code Red: CRITICAL MASS**

**By **_**Cael-El595**_

**Ch 4: The Man Who Would Be King**

Kal was still mystified even seven hours after he'd woken up. His mind was raising too many questions, and he wanted answers.

"And how long did you say we have been married?"

He was sitting at a table laden with bread and fruit, in a balcony overlooking a city that felt as alien to him as his wife. The setting sun was bathing the towering metallic spires with a glistening rose-colored hue. Between them, he could see tractor beamed pathways, plazas with fountains and congregations of colorful people going about their business everywhere; women carrying their children, android and gynoid workers tending to their programmed tasks. Further still, the land sloped downwards to meet the cerulean blue of the ocean, the skyline dotted with flying craft of every shape, size and speed.

It all looked very interesting and Utopian, but terribly...unreal somehow. He would have to explore the city later, feel and touch it for himself. He'd always trusted his acute senses.

The flashes of intuition in his head were getting alarming. He wondered if he had taken more of a fall than they had reckoned, and part of his brain was now permanently scarred, beyond their ability to restore even with the nanobots.

He was wondering why he was so skeptical, but everything felt weird, especially his memories, as patchy as they were. He couldn't quite describe it, but even the colors felt wrong to him, as though they had gone through multiple filters just to get that extra loudness that was so jarring to him.

The beautiful flame-haired woman sitting in front of him, watching him eat was nevertheless very real. She appeared outwardly calm and composed, but he could tell she was nervous by the fluttering of her eyelashes and the surreptitious twitching of her hands.

"Don't you remember, Kal? The day we met?"

He searched for the memories, and they were there, hazy like a storm cloud. "I was exploring this planet for the first time, after a really long inter-stellar voyage. I was standing in the Great Hall, looking up at the throne, and you were sitting there. I thought you were the…"

He was going to say _the most beautiful woman he had ever seen_, but somehow he knew that felt wrong. He wasn't sure of many things right now, but he was very sure of this. He had never been one to be attracted to physical beauty for beauty's sake alone. Somehow, his wife's obvious attributes struck him as bizarre. He never thought he would ever marry someone simply because she looked like that. She would have been out of his league, and he would have been running scared for the rest of his life, wondering when she would wake up to the fact he just wasn't good enough.

_You've always been self-deprecating. You never truly believed in what you could do. In what you could be._

And_ League_. Now why did that word sound so familiar? Like it was important, that it should mean something else for him?

"You were visiting with your brother," his wife said. What was her name again? Galatea. "I was supposed to be betrothed to him. He was your father's eldest, the heir to the Kryptonian Kingdom. Our marriage was supposed to have sealed an alliance. But when I saw you, standing by your brother's side..."

"We were drawn to each other –"

"As though we'd known each other all our lives– "

"And so we got married," he finished, as if by rote, like he'd rehearsed this conversation before.

It all seemed terribly contrived to him somehow, like it had been scripted. Though he was sure it had happened to him. Not in this context though. In another time, another place. With someone else who lurked in the shadowy recesses of his consciousness, a vague incorporeal figure that refused to take shape.

He even remembered the wedding day. His brother had been none too pleased; he had been looking for a trophy wife, and who better than the Queen herself, with her own kingdom as a very expansive dowry. The wedding had been exactly six months after they had met, though the whole thing had turned downright political, and he had already made himself at home in Galatea's bed the very night they had met.

_Even though that's something you would normally never do, shy as you are when it comes to women._

And everyone had come to accept that it was the next best thing that could happen, for really, how could anyone thwart true love, however clichéd as that may sound?

The wedding was like an image of crystal clarity in his mind, like a… video recording?

A swirl of white lace, fine silk and candelabra, with endless goblets of wine being toasted, and maidens in shimmering silver garments with blue flowers in their braided hair. And the honor guard turned out in their full regalia, with golden breastplates and purple cloaks, brandishing swords and gauss rifles that gleamed silver in the dazzling light.

She was a resplendent vision, her burnished hair cascading down her shoulders, and her creamy complexion contrasted by her rich green and gold gown.

And him, majestic and regal in a steel blue bodysuit with a white cape, the golden sheen of his adamantine sword gleaming from his golden belt. He stood tall and proud, wearing the white and red shield symbol of his ancestors on his mighty chest. They stood on the altar, hand in hand before the high priestess, ready to embark on this new chapter of their lives together.

"That was two years ago," he added.

"Yes. We've been married for two years."

He sat there, looking at her, wondering if she could discern that he was feeling a little off. Because really, she was like a stranger to him, and it would hurt her to know that. He couldn't remember anything else about her besides the throne room incident, the wedding and a sort of understanding in between happened. Did she have any brothers or sisters? Was green her favorite color, because he couldn't recall seeing her in anything else? On which side of the bed did she prefer to sleep, the left or the right? What did she like to do in her free time? Did it involve him?

There were so many things he had forgotten- _didn't know_ -about her that he was alarmed.

What in the world did she do as a Queen anyway? And if he was her consort, what on Earth was he supposed to do? For a man who was soon to be king, he knew precious little about his life, about hers, about anything.

Earth?

He had absolutely no idea at all.

And he still had that painful throbbing in his temples.

-x-x-x-x-x-

It had been so easy really.

Back in the chamber, when he was asleep, she had come to him, her lips lined with a poison formulated specifically to render him unconscious. She had kissed him, long and deeply; and he had stirred, murmuring his love's name incoherently. There was always significance in her kisses; she had always used them sparingly, though he couldn't possibly know that. She kissed him again, full-mouthed, just to be sure she had left just enough poison in his system; and he had sunk gradually but surely into a coma.

_Kal, I'm so sorry…but you'll thank me one day for doing this._

She couldn't risk overdosing him on the poison. In enough doses, it could be lethal, even for him. So she had made sure his breathing was regular, while lovingly stroking the hair off his forehead, before proceeding to enact the second part of her plan.

It had been so easy as well to insert the second ingredient into his veins via an intravenous cannula, a liquefied form of the crystal she'd biosynthesized, only for it to inexplicably turn ruby-red at the end of the process. There were other modes of delivery, but this was the fastest and the best, and she had to be sure. She had buried all his memories, every single one of them - Diana, Lois, being sent away from his native world of Krypton as it died behind him, Earth, his life as the protector of the human race and his other life as Clark Kent, his nightmares, his dreams - all memories, good and bad.

While looking at his sleeping form, his mind as malleable as a newborn's, she felt a surge of an emotion so inexplicable she could only liken it to that of a mother for her child. Which was discomfiting because she wanted to be his lover more than anything else. But truly, what woman – across the universe, irrespective of race- had not subconsciously dreamt of this, especially if the man she desired belonged to someone else?

Like with everything else however, there were limitations to the extent one could tamper with the mind. She could only give him new memories, she would have no idea if his old ones were completely gone until the chamber rebooted itself and began the next phase of operations.

She could not give him personality traits. He was a sum of his real past and his own chromosomes - the twin building blocks of personality - and not the past she manufactured for him. That she could not erase.

She could not predetermine his thought patterns, or his reactions. Neither could she determine his situational behavior, his tendencies and his preferences. She could not compel him to like the color green, if he didn't like it in the first place.

She could not alter his likeness. Not that she wanted to in the first place. He was a very handsome man. The Gods had crafted him to be a true representation of masculine beauty, made even more appealing because he didn't seem to be conscious of it himself most of the time.

She could however bury all memories of what he had learnt his entire life, from his parents, his loves, from his work, from Earth and from being Superman. She could make him forget he had ever learnt how to use those marvelous powers, though he would always retain his abilities - all of them. He just would never know he had them, like the subservient slave - oppressed by a tyrant - who never knew he had it in him to rise up and start a revolution.

She could not alter his soul. She didn't want to. It was part of what made him so attractive.

She had decided on a shared life on her own home world, together as Queen and Consort, presiding over a Golden Age. Once it began, however, she would have no control over its events and how he would react to them. In there, he'd still retain his own personality and shape his own destiny. She could only ensure the fail-safes were in place.

_I'm giving him a life. The life he deserves. This is a good thing. Honest. _

_And I love him, from what I have assimilated from the brief time we shared. I will love him even more when we have had the chance to live our lives together. When he has had the chance to love me in return._

Which of course led to the question she had been dreading right from the beginning, but knew it would regardless be answered. There would be no escaping it.

Could love really be programmed into the mind? Even by an empath of her power?

She feared she was going to hate the answer, no matter what it was.

-x-x-x-x-x-

As Galatea watched Kal grope his way through his new environment, she was struck by how easily he took to it, like he had been born to rule. It should've come as no surprise really- after all, he'd survived- no- _thrived_ on an alien world he'd been sent to even as an infant. He took long tours through the capital city; ascertaining how his people lived in the farther reaches of the kingdom, discussing matters of science with the astronomers and physicists at the orbiting observatory, affairs of State with his retinue of advisors, visiting the galactic fleet to watch operations as the shuttles docked, immersing himself in his new life and getting a firsthand perspective of everything. He took a great interest in everything and everyone around him, and why not? He _was_ seeing everything for the first time. And a subconscious part of him knew it.

Initially, she feared for his safety. He was after all the Prince Consort and although she hadn't included any enemies, all previous attempts to render it completely perfect had been doomed to spectacular failure, and she knew too well that the rogue inhabitants in this world she had created would pick up some unpleasant tendencies. Like kidnapping, for instance. Or worse still, regicide. Some amount of entropy was unavoidable, despite her best efforts.

She needn't have worried. Kal retained that aura of otherworldly invincibility even in this dream world. Although he had absolutely no knowledge of his powers, nor had he a chance to use them, the people seemed to embrace him with a fondness and loyalty usually reserved for very old and doting patriarchs.

Even in this world, as on Earth, he set about to help the citizens make better lives for themselves. It was ingrained in his personality to cut through the chase to get to the heart of things. She'd learned that his birth father had been the foremost scientist on Krypton. And now he was following in his footsteps, helping invent and perfect ways to extract and utilize the precious trizelium ore and harness the ion clouds hovering over the planet, forming a thick blanket over its atmosphere. He took part in meetings of the various guilds, attentive to every minute detail. He was playing an even more integral part here than he had played on Earth, since everyone wanted him to be a part of anything and everything. It was likely he'd have lived like this had Krypton survived.

Another more sinister reason was, she suspected, he was trying to avoid her.

It wasn't as though he openly displayed it. He was too kind and emotionally matured for that. Sometimes she caught him gazing at her with a perturbed look in his eyes, as if to ask, _Why are you still a stranger to me?_ When he made love to her, which was often, his doubts and fears about her seeped through. She could read the thoughts running through his head - he thought she was a wonderful wife; it caused him great anguish to be unable to give himself completely to her. Some lingering memory of something that would not quite come to the surface was holding him back.

She had underestimated the power of his bond with Diana. Even from beyond, she was calling to him. _That _posed a far more serious threat, one that could actually shatter her perfect little world. The distinct possibility of her managing to break him out of this was alarming and caused her no small amount of concern.

Sometimes she felt like weeping. She had chosen this path for both of them, and although he was kind and courteous, generous and loving to her, there was always the sense of something missing, something that was incomplete. Not that he wanted to hold anything back, he was struggling within himself to come to terms with it; but it was something out of his control.

On her part, she gave him almost her all. She gave him her body, heart and soul. All the love she could not bestow upon her husband from another life, Ragnor, she now lavished upon Kal. It came easily to her. Even though he had closed up some remote part of himself to her, he was still very easy to love. The only things she promised herself she would ever hold back from him were his real memories. It was for their protection, both hers as well as his.

Two years had lapsed since she had brought Kal into this world. Two years of waiting for him to love her as much as she loved him. She couldn't afford to lose it all now.

She wanted nothing but the chance to live her life all over again, as she would have chosen it. She wanted nothing but the best for both of them. Was that so wrong? Did it make her a terrible woman for wanting that?

Kal marked their fourth –_although he couldn't really trust that it had been four years_– anniversary with trepidation. It was something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it was there, like a jagged shard wedged in his mind.

He had tried to love Galatea. She was everything a man could want, his friends - _who seemed to have known him since the day he landed on this strange world _- were quick to point out.

"If I had the Queen as my wife," said Wanev, the queendom's best bard, and an irrepressible free spirit, "I wouldn't be out here drinking with us in a bar on Ursa Minor Beta like this. I would be home with her every night, -"

Kal gave him a look, cutting him off before he could get too graphic. He really didn't need that right now. Here he was, doing something completely uncharacteristic, for him anyway– trying to drown out the dreams and his guilt with drink, only to have these men who were supposed to be his most trusted friends ending up reminding him of it. And he couldn't get this load off his chest, as much as he wanted to. Heck, his own wife wouldn't understand, so he couldn't expect Wanev, or even Bryce to. Chances were, they'd probably think him to be mad if he told them what he'd been experiencing.

"Okay," his friend interjected hastily. "Don't mean any disrespect to the Queen. But you don't know what you've got there. When she looks at you, her eyes light up, as though you're her whole reason for her existence. Have you seen that?"

Kal sighed wearily. _Leave it to a bard to be so dramatic_, he thought. But yes, he _had_ seen it. It had made him feel guilty as hell.

"I'm a good husband to her," he said, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself.

And really, he was. He made sure all her needs were taken care of, whatever it was in his means to provide, even though since she was Queen anyway, nothing material was required of him. He accompanied her to state occasions, temple gatherings and sumptuous parties given in their honor by the gentry. He made love to her almost daily, even when his heart wasn't in it, taking care to make it pleasurable for her. Lovemaking was something she was very good at, being boundlessly creative and unknown to him, having the means to enact both their fantasies. He enjoyed all their intimate contacts, which were plagued only by his guilt that he wasn't really in love with her.

He was very fond of her however. He did love her in a fashion; the kind of love one had for a friend who had been very good to him; a love grown over time, after much mingling and many good deeds. But it was not the head-over-heels passion, the stuff of lore that lovers had died for. Unlike Bryce, he was not quick to dismiss such stories, because somewhere in some strange netherworld, he knew he had loved and experienced that kind of love, if not here, then somewhere, far, far away both in distance as well as in time.

_What the hell_, he thought. At any rate, telling his spymaster couldn't possibly make things any worse. Bryce was a bit of a shadowy character in his own right, with his more nefarious contacts and his own personal demons, connections to a murky past. The man wasn't exactly a saint.

_Of course, none of us really is._

And Kal desperately needed someone else's perspective on these… dreams, visions, whatever they were. Moreover, the man was his best friend, or in any case, the closest to being a best friend as Kal's status would allow him. Of course, Kal had never let that get in the way of their friendship, and any third observer would've thought they were brothers.

He turned to his friend, " Look, I know this sounds ridiculous, but I don't know how to explain it…"

_He was there again; on a world he couldn't recognize, with her, standing side by side with a statuesque, astoundingly beautiful, raven haired woman. He looked into her eyes, and despite the fact that he couldn't recall her name, he was absolutely certain he'd known her for a long time, theirs an indefinably intimate connection._

_The memories were jumbled, with scattered glimpses, but in the midst of it all, were crystal clear images of a duel with her, the Empress, having fought his way through the entire army of exoplasmic and sentient and non-sentient hosts to defy his fate. He'd already killed her once, only to find that it hadn't changed anything, and had made the impossible journey against the timeline in order to save her. And here, yet he stood, face to face with her once more. He had to ensure he didn't repeat his earlier mistake. He wasn't sure he could survive the trip twice over._

_It had taken every last ounce of his strength and speed and skill with the psionic claymore to overcome her, all the while leading her towards the hidden machine. In the midst of their bitter duel, he'd managed to activate the machine, vault over her and tackle her with his shoulder, sending them both hurtling into the open temporal window._

_They'd landed outside her tower, on what appeared to be sacred ground, and she'd furiously attacked him again. With some fortitude and skill, and lots of luck, along with the benefit of hindsight, he had successfully parried her strike, and knocked her back with a backhand, prying her weapon loose and launching himself over her to claim it, forcing her to surrender._

_He'd finally defeated her, only to then have to fight together against a new enemy, some faceless, nameless, monstrous evil. The battle had been terrible and long, but when the dust settled, she had somehow pushed the Guardian to the precipice, allowing Kal to lunge forward and drive his blade into its eye and the great beast had exploded and disintegrated into sand, dissolving into the water, leaving them the victors, the survivors._

_He'd collapsed onto his knees in relief and exhaustion, not realizing that she was moving towards him until she was right in front of him, the fabric of her gown brushing against his arm. He looked up, half expecting to have to fight her yet again, only to have her lift him up to his feet and bring her arms around his neck as she kissed him. Well, that was unexpected to say the least._

_He'd saved her, and in doing so had saved himself. And deprived the island, and the entire planet, of it's sustaining force for so long, now causing it to cave in on itself._

_They'd left the disintegrating planet together, taking off in his small sleek winged craft, leaving her world behind, her opulent but deadly prison._

_He'd just finished entering the co-ordinates for the star jump and retired to his small but comfortable room behind the control deck when she entered, still wearing the robes she'd worn as the Empress. He'd grabbed her almost viciously, pushing her against the wall. She'd quivered at the unexpected sensations from his touch, almost breathless in anticipation, and that had told him all he needed to know._

_He'd taken her that night -he wasn't too sure of the time since they were in space- and initiated her in the art of emotional and physical intimacy. Whatever life had in store for them, they'd now face it together as one, no matter what._

"Another life maybe?" the spymaster ventured.

"Maybe." Kal frowned, "I'm trying to think back to my earlier years back home. But the only thing I can remember is this. I don't remember anything else, her name, her identity, where we were, nothing. At least you'd think I'd remember someone I had loved like that. But no."

"It was the blow on your head. Wipes out everything. Probably it was the Queen. Who knows?"

"No. If it had been Galatea, I would have known it. It was someone else."

"You're not going to hurt her, are you?" The spymaster arched an eyebrow. "She's still my Queen and I'm sworn to protect her."

"I would never hurt her." He knew what Bryce was referring to. There were many women in court who did not mind catching the eye of the Prince consort, Queen or no Queen, and the temptation came daily and incessantly. But he respected Galatea far too much to do something that inconsiderate. Moreover, he had never been really interested. Even his excessive lovemaking to his wife had been a form of compensation for not loving her enough.

_Unless..._

There were moments when the floodgates threatened to break and allow the strange memories to burst through. Like when he was looking outside a crystal pane one night, and the rain was spattering against it, prismatically scattering into multiple hues. The water running down vertically in tiny rivulets down the blue and gold crystal had awoken some unsung memory inside him-

_He'd thought he'd bring her home, having overcome one nightmare only to find himself in a new one._

_They were seconds away from entering the atmosphere, when they were greeted with unprovoked laser fire. Caught off-guard, Kal had taken the first hit before taking evasive action against the next burst of fire. An ambush!_

_Things were about to get worse. Much worse._

_They picked up the distinct electromagnetic signature of another starjump. He saw the blips on his radar, five of them, and then he saw them to his stern._

_A squadron of starfighters had jumped through the vortex and was coming straight for them, and he'd have to act fast. He couldn't try to negotiate. Whoever had attacked his world clearly wasn't interested in brokering surrender. And no time to send out a distress signal. They'd be blown out of space before he could send a signal._

_He- they'd have to put up a fight. Kal's Vox-75C was nimble enough, and fast, but not very well armored and not exactly armed to the teeth. Two pairs of pulse laser cannons with a limited charge on them and three plasma torpedoes were the only armaments on board. Well, they'd just have to make do with what they had, and chances were his world's defenses had already been subdued, possibly even wiped out._

"_Hang on! We're under attack!" he warned her as she rushed back to the cockpit from their shared room. She hurriedly took her seat and strapped herself in._

_He veered sharply, steering the craft expertly as he swerved and wove in and out of enemy fire, executing a barrel roll while returning fire with the plasma cannons, making sure to only use judicious bursts. But he was still outnumbered and outgunned._

_One of the enemy fighters came at him, launching a plasma torpedo. Kal maintained his course, opting for a risky double arrow maneuver and fired a torpedo of his own at the last possible minute before pulling back desperately on the controls and pulling off the transition to a knife edge. He barely escaped, the enemy torpedo narrowly missing his wing and tail, destroying one of their own fighters instead while Kal's own torpedo found its mark. At the back of his mind, amidst all the fighting, Kal was keeping score. Two down, three to go._

_His triumph was but momentary however, as his scout craft was thrown violently about, careening out of control as it hit the atmosphere. He had taken a direct hit to his right wing. They were now on a wing and a prayer._

_The plane was breaking up, burning rapidly on re-entry since the fuselage was compromised. The heat inside the cockpit was becoming unbearable, their air supply running out. She had already passed out, and probably suffered a concussion as well. If he couldn't bring them down in one piece, they'd suffer a lot worse than that._

_His face and back were soaked in sweat now, his hands now damp, making it even more difficult for him to man the controls. The plane was now beginning to resemble a fireball._

_He'd expected to return home with his new bride to a hero's welcome, find open arms. Instead, all he'd found were fire and death._

_The engines finally stirred back to life, and he tried everything he could to avoid crashing onto the jagged face of the tectonic plates ahead. Finally, he managed to crash-land it on its belly on the shore, using the vectored thrusters to swing the nose up by 30 degrees. The landing was extremely jarring, something he could do absolutely nothing to avoid._

_He looked up, hazy from the shock and the loss of blood. She was still out cold. He struggled furiously with her straps, and once he freed her, hauled her out of the wreckage, carrying her in his arms and running away from the impending explosion._

_He wasn't fast enough. The plane's failsafe kicked in, erupting with a massive concussive shockwave that threw them both a good ten meters. Kal hit his head hard, and then all was black._

_When he opened his eyes again, he looked around frantically and found no sign of her. Up ahead, he saw two large, inhuman soldiers carrying her unconscious form away. Anger, blind, helpless anger coursed through his veins like venom. For the moment, he was powerless to stop them, as good as dead if he tried._

_He had fought his way through his father's palace, his knowledge of the palace's secrets and his own skill aiding in picking off the soldiers one by one, and discarding the useless dagger for a more suitable weapon, and his preferred one, his trusted psionic claymore._

_He'd stumbled upon all the slain guards, his father's elite royal guard among them._

_The catastrophe unfolding was beyond anything he could've imagined. The whole city in flames. Scores of people dead and his bride the enemy's prisoner. And it was all because of him._

_He thought he'd saved her, saved himself. Instead, he'd damned them all to a horrific doom._

_He should've chosen his moment cautiously, used stealth. That was what his ordeal until now dictated. Instead, in the heat of his anger and shock, he'd broken through to the courtyard, scaling down the tower for a desperate assault._

_It had been foolish to say the least. He'd landed on his feet, poised to deal a lethal strike to the invading warlord, only to find himself surrounded by a dozen cutthroat soldiers._

_The warlord turned to face him, his features oddly obscured and hidden from him, and he was saying something, gloating about how he'd managed to bring the empire to its knees, and how he was going to take the Empress for himself. Kal stood there, helpless, feeling impotent at his inability to stop the unthinkable._

_"All that's rightfully yours is mine. And mine it will be," the man's voice was strangely familiar, almost too familiar, like he'd known it all his life. Before Kal's horrified eyes, the man raised his hand, and Kal caught a familiar glint. His father's crown, the brilliantly cut aventurnine on the front stained with blood._

_The nightmare was still unfolding. With everyone's attention on Kal and the conqueror, she'd snuck past the guards and moved towards the edge of the cliff. Kal saw what she was trying to do. Kal had bested her in combat, but not subjugated her. She was still his equal. Now faced with the prospect of living as a tyrannical conqueror's slave, she'd chosen death instead. All because he couldn't save her._

_"Diane!"_

_He willed his way past the brutes, dispelling them with a sudden burst of strength and dived, lunging desperately to stop her, his sword still in his right hand, his left arm shooting out to reach for her hand._

_She was almost within reach. He only had to stretch that last bit to catch her, when he felt the piercing pain shooting up his arm and he was violently stopped in his tracks. A harpoon, embedded in his left shoulder._

_She wore a sad smile, resigned to her fate. It was as if she was absolving him of all responsibility, "I trust you," And he could only watch as she gave herself up to the sea, it's waves rising up to embrace her, to claim her._

_"Diane!"_

"No!"

"Kal?" Galatea had come up behind him. "What's wrong?" She had appeared concerned.

The moment had been shattered like the tinkling of crystal, and the images hidden by a heavy mist that crept up like a veil. Or a shroud.

"Nothing," he had assured her, kissing her on the lips and absent-mindedly rubbing her cheek, "It's nothing."

_Diane._ The last thing he needed his wife to know was that he was dreaming of another woman, even if he himself didn't really know who she was.

Eventually things did get better for Kal. It all started with the rescue of a child from a war between Illusk and Nethril. The boy had no family left, all victims of genocide on Illusk, and the fact that the child had even survived was a miracle in itself. He needed a home and a family, and Galatea had a yearning for children. Calaran was a neutral world, a largely peaceful and safe haven if they could ever find one for the boy, and Galatea had been instantly drawn to the child. Moved by the boy's plight and by his wife's earnestness, Kal had decided to take him in.

If Kal had any doubts about raising a child with someone he wasn't truly in love with, they were dispelled the moment he saw her pick him up and cradle him in her arms. They named him Apollo, and infused him with all the values worthy of a royal heir from an early age.

He was taught to be courteous to everyone, regardless of social status and hierarchy, and that to abuse his position's power was unworthy of a monarch. He was taught to cherish all life, and to take from nature only what was needed. He was taught the best thing you could do for the needy was not to give them what they needed, but to instill in them a sense of pride and an ability to procure it for themselves. He was taught knowledge was power, and that to share it was even greater.

Raising Apollo was such a joy and success that a year later, when the boy was five, Kal and Galatea adopted another child. She was named Artemis, after her brother's Olympian namesake's twin. While Apollo was a pensive, thoughtful child who liked to read and take long reflective walks by himself, Artemis was noisy and gregarious, with an appetite for life that was as bountiful as it was exhausting.

"She certainly doesn't take after me," Kal said.

"Nor me," Galatea said. "It must have been one of our ancestors."

Since neither of them had any true ancestors in this world, she knew that was impossible.

Now that they had two children and they were both approaching middle age - Kal was thirty-nine and she one year younger, though her actual age numbered a good many more moons than that - they had settled into a comfortable rhythm of family life and routine, with a sense of serenity. The Morphean Chamber had allowed them to age with the rest of the world; it was one of the dream parameters she had been very particular about- the ability to grow old along with someone and to experience the best of what life would offer thereafter. It was both the gift and the price of mortality.

Kal had aged well, with the physical appearance of a man ten years younger. She supposed it was in his Kryptonian genetics, augmented by Calaran's golden sun- not that he knew it; in this world, he was oblivious to his ability to physiologically process solar energy.

Galatea too had aged well. At first she had been apprehensive, she who was immortal and had never seen a silken gray hair on her pristine coif, or a wrinkle on her flawless features. But it was more pleasant than she had initially thought. There was a sense of passage and progress, an achievement of milestones.

Something more wonderful had come between them however. Her husband had begun to love her the way she wanted him to. It had happened somewhere in the middle of teaching Apollo to walk and deciding as a couple to adopt Artemis. It was a deep-seated love of respect and mutual trust, of loyalty and acceptance. It was the love that many brides come to develop for their husbands from arranged marriages, whom they have only met on the wedding day. It took time like many other good things - sometimes over several years - but it was well worth the wait.

As long as she had the love of her husband, even her inevitable mortality was a price worth paying.

It was even worth the measures she was going to take to safeguard it.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Diana raced through the winding corridors of the palace, searching high and low for any opening, any pathway that seemed unusual. The building was a veritable maze, easy to get lost in. Hera, Kal was right. This could take her hours, even days.

That damnable woman was cunning, she had to give her that.

Time wasn't a luxury Diana had, and if her instincts were correct, Kal was in dire peril. And it'd be a cold day in Tartarus before she let Galatea harm him. And she was making no headway.

All was seemingly lost, with no hope in sight, and caught in a wave of irrational despair, she slumped against a wall.

She was still surprised that she'd feel this way about him. The realization had hit her like a bolt from the blue, a powerful epiphany that threatened to overwhelm her. Kal was her best friend, her guide in a strange and new world, such a direct contrast to everything her mother had ever warned her about men. She remembered how he'd swept in to take that lethal shot from Toyman's temporal displacement cannon, and how she'd reacted so violently to his apparent demise. Even she hadn't expected to react so fiercely and to take it so hard. She'd told herself it was because he was a friend, a trusted colleague, nothing more, nothing less.

Hera, she'd been so blind. What use were the wisdom of Athena and the lasso of truth when she'd been so clueless and deceiving herself this entire time?

No, she couldn't just lose him like this. Not now, not when she'd finally accepted that she loved him.

_Blessed Aphrodite. I… love him._

She couldn't stop repeating it in her mind now that she knew it. It was becoming a mantra in itself.

How had she allowed any of this to happen?

_Kal..._

She remembered the first time she saw him. His image in the Oracle's pool, rather.

Amazon or not, she was still a woman, and like all young women, she'd been curious about her future, and the Oracle had told her she was destined to know a man of unfathomable power who had fallen from the stars, and that man would be her greatest ally in times to come, that they'd forge a bond like no other.

Thereafter, she checked up on him regularly, drawn to him, long before her mother had arrived on the decision to appoint an ambassador. At night, she watched him for hours on end, especially when he was at home. She felt guiltily like some twisted voyeur, but the curiosity was overwhelming.

This was the one, the Oracle had told her, that she would befriend, maybe even love. Would she even have a choice in the matter?

Even as the wheels were turning, she was falling in love with him, just watching him everyday. Here, the suggestion predated the event, just like the man who had psyched himself up so much to think he was ill that he actually _became_ ill, like a form of self-hypnosis.

She was psyching herself up to love him even though she didn't have an inkling of this kind of love; and really, it was so easy. They were kindred spirits, both outsiders whose gifts could at times seem like a curse with their isolating effect, whose souls seemed to call out to each other across barriers of time and space.

As far as she knew, since she started watching him, he had not dated. He did not seem to be in contact with his family in Metropolis, if he had any. He had a few friends, who popped in occasionally, but they were mostly all from work, and only two of them were female. He would often cook by himself in his modest apartment. He rarely went out unless someone needed Superman.

He was alone. So very alone.

_What are you doing now_, she would venture daily, sitting by the divining pool, watching the image floating across her Kal-scape. _Are you sleeping well? Are you as restless as I am? What are you thinking? What are you actually like, in the flesh?_

When Hippolyta had made the decision to appoint an ambassador one fateful day and announced the tournament, she decided to sneak in. She'd resolved to become the champion, and earn the rights and responsibilities that came with the title.

"You want the first peek at him, don't you?" her sister had sniggered mischievously. Donna was fascinatingly intuitive. Diana just hoped she wouldn't blab it out to someone.

"That's none of your business."

Everything had gone straight to Tartarus soon after that. The Imperium invasion had devastated the world, and in a bid to keep their land secure, her mother had called off the tournament for the time being.

Diana had gone anyway, stealing the armor and flying off to lend a hand against these invaders, hotheaded young woman that she was. Her mother wouldn't be the least pleased about this, and would most likely banish her once she got wind of her escapade. Diana found she didn't care. She had more pressing concerns. Like the fate of the entire human race for starters.

When she saw him close up for the first time, hurling an alien destroyer like a discus, she was taken aback. Gods... he was beautiful. That was the only word with which she could describe him. He had chiseled features that were finely crafted, as though Hephaestus himself had wrought his divine tools to them, with high cheekbones and hypnotic eyes that were pools of blue she could swim in for all eternity. He had the bearing of a king and the beauty of a god, with a profile that could've adorned a coin.

The next few weeks were a heady blur. Fighting, planning, storming an alien mother ship, rescuing civilians, the whole gamut of things ranging from crucial to the mundane and everything in between, all good, as long as it was with him.

Diana wondered if something was wrong with her, for being so deeply affected by a man to the point of inebriation, that too one that she'd just met. Her mother had shielded her for years, warned her of the evil nature of men.

She'd grown up hearing Hippolyta's cautionary tales of the horrors inflicted on her and her sisters. And this man was so reminiscent of Heracles, a modern demigod with his power and beauty. The similarity between her present situation and her mother's initial infatuation was disconcerting to say the least.

She wondered if that would be an obstacle to any alliance of any sort between them- the fact that he sometimes evoked such comparisons to a man who had enslaved and humiliated her race. It was in those times that she felt ill at ease. Would she remain attracted to a man like that? Or would the precedent of her own mother's personal tragedy dissuade her?

One look into his eyes dispelled all that. Kal was no Heracles, devoid of any malicious intent, and one by one each and every one of the Amazon axioms about men was deconstructed and dismantled. She would have no doubts about his sincerity and nobility, and the strength of his conviction, so like her own.

He was ever the perfect gentleman with her, polite and cheerfully helpful without being patronizing. He became her anchor in this strange new world, going out of his way to help her get acclimatized and settled.

When she was banished after they'd stopped Faust, he'd been a rock, a pillar of support as he did everything he could to take her mind off her pain, showing her she was not alone, that she'd be welcomed back into her family eventually and that in the meantime, she already had a new one.

He took her out to dinner, making her laugh with anecdotes such as the time he tried to milk his first cow at the ripe age of seven, only for it to turn out to be a bull and kick him into a pile of manure. He didn't care about embarrassing himself no end, as long as she felt better. His ploy had been a resounding success- by the time dinner was over and they walked back together under a full moon, he had her laughing uncontrollably.

As long as he was by her side, she'd never feel alone.

All this time, he never tried to assert his supposed superiority over her in any way as she had been told men were wont to do, instead maintaining a respectful, almost reverential distance. Whoever said chivalry was dead?

She marveled at that. The idea that someone like Kal who stood toe to toe with Ares and won, and rubbed shoulders with kings across diverse trans-stellar dynasties sometimes regarded her like some sort of hallowed idol was something of a paradox, especially given the realization that with him, she could freely be herself without the weight of expectations. Not Wonder Woman, the inspirational symbol of purity and womanhood, or the much sought after and fussed over ambassador, but just Diana.

It was strange, to find such kinship here with him, something she had never found at home, even though she had been surrounded by her entire family.

And now she was on her own, just when she had realized she'd loved him all along. It had been insidious, creeping up on both of them as they were caught unawares. It was almost absurd. All this time he was right in front of her and she'd never acted on it, even before she'd learned of Lois, and now that she knew her heart when she least expected it, he was spirited away. The fates, it seemed, had a penchant for irony.

_Gather yourself Diana. This isn't over._

She was an Amazon, and would never give up, no matter what the odds. She couldn't- wouldn't lose him like this, not without a fight.

Picking herself up, she resumed her hunt with a renewed purpose, a firmer resolve. She'd raze this palace to the ground and fight Ragnor's entire elite guard if she had to.

That woman was going to regret ever trying to mess with her and Kal. One way or another, she was going to ensure that.

* * *

TBC

_A/N: I know- I'm an ass, lol. Relax; I know what I'm doing, so just bear with me for a while. The action begins in another couple of chapters, I promise. Thanks for your patience and understanding, and for all the great feedback. Keep it coming!_

_Do continue on to Ch5- it's been overhauled quite a bit, hence the relocation of all of this to this chapter. Until next time, take care, and happy reading. _

Cael


	5. Ch5 Children of Cocytus

_A/N: I know, I know- this isn't a real update, but I had to put the new scene into Ch5 since it sets up the upcoming plot, so with that in mind, please cut me some slack. Besides, it's a BGI scene (for those who know what that means, hehe) so that's got to count for something, lol._

**Previously, on Code Red: CRITICAL MASS:**

_Now that they had two children and they were both approaching middle age - Kal was thirty-nine and she one year younger, though her actual age numbered a good many more moons than that - they had settled into a comfortable rhythm of family life and routine, with a sense of serenity. The Morphean Chamber had allowed them to age with the rest of the world; it was one of the dream parameters she had been very particular about- the ability to grow old along with someone and to experience the best of what life would offer thereafter. It was both the gift and the price of mortality._

_Kal had aged well, with the physical appearance of a man ten years younger. She supposed it was in his Kryptonian genetics, augmented by Calaran's golden sun- not that he knew it; in this world, he was oblivious to his ability to physiologically process solar energy. _

_Galatea too had aged well. At first she had been apprehensive, she who was immortal and had never seen a silken gray hair on her pristine coif, or a wrinkle on her flawless features. But it was more pleasant than she had initially thought. There was a sense of passage and progress, an achievement of milestones. _

_Something more wonderful had come between them however. Her husband had begun to love her the way she wanted him to. It had happened somewhere in the middle of teaching Apollo to walk and deciding as a couple to adopt Artemis. It was a deep-seated love of respect and mutual trust, of loyalty and acceptance. It was the love that many brides come to develop for their husbands from arranged marriages, whom they have only met on the wedding day. It took time like many other good things - sometimes over several years - but it was well worth the wait._

_As long as she had the love of her husband, even her inevitable mortality was a price worth paying._

_It was even worth the measures she was going to take to safeguard it._

Standard disclaimers apply. Superman, Wonder Woman and any other syndicated characters are the intellectual property of DC and Warner Bros.

Thanks of course to the peerless Angelic Enchantress, my once in a lifetime best friend and life support system so to speak. Your inputs proved invaluable in the new scene and I'll say it again- you really need to write another fic yourself, especially a BGI one, lol. Besides, it'd give me a chance at payback for mothering & doting over me when I was sick, not that I'm complaining, hehe ;-)

I know this chapter seems pretty weird and twisted, but everything's not as it seems, and it'll make sense down the line as the plot unravels. More than that, I'm afraid I can't give away. Ladies and Gentlemen, do r & r as always.

**Rating:** Now definitely **RatedM for Mature** for exploration of dark and adult themes, which I can safely say shall continue in later chapters. This fic was advertised as a mature tale right from the start, and is written by an adult, for adults, and about adults, so expect more adult situations down the line. Well, enjoy!

* * *

**Code Red: CRITICAL MASS**

**By **_**Cael-El595**_

**Ch 5: Children of Cocytus**

**Calaran, Jewel of the Aurician Galaxy:**

The midday sun's golden rays filtered through the filigree curtains overhanging Kal's bed, causing him to stir. Squinting as the light hit his eyes, he turned away, causing the dancing light to form myriad patterns of ever changing shadows on his face as he rose. He cast a glance at the sleeping woman sharing the bed with him before heading for the bathroom.

Kal turned on the shower, letting the hot water wash over him as the steam hissed on contact. The heat rolling off his skin was invigorating; oddly pleasant after the years of uncertainty and confusion he'd felt. Of course, nothing compared to the way he'd felt a few hours earlier; then he'd felt alive, felt this was if not right, then definitely meant to be. For the first time since he could remember, he'd felt sure about something, felt safe, as they'd laid together, a mass of entwined limbs.

He was jolted out of his reverie by a supple chest pressing against his back. He smiled as a slender olive-skinned hand crept under his arm, snaking its way onto his chest, and then he grabbed the wrist connected to it, pulling the woman who'd left him feeling so liberated even as she had ensnared him, now face to face. Her sparkling blue eyes almost reached his, open invitation in them as she smiled at him, a dazzling, incandescent smile that never failed to light his heart up.

"You're supposed to be in bed," his tone was mildly admonishing, yet tender as he gazed into her eyes. They were so close, inches apart, that he could count each and every one of her long eyelashes.

_God, she's beautiful. _He found himself enchanted in a way he had not thought possible.

She pouted at him, the expression devastatingly adorable according to him, "Then why are _you_ out of bed Kal?" her fingers were working him over, tracing circles and random patterns over his rippling chest and abdomen as she came behind him.

_That's unfair! Damn it; don't let her get to you! _He tried in vain to ignore what she was doing to him, "I'm not sleepy," he managed to get out in the midst of a laugh aimed at covering his unavoidable reaction to her.

It was too late. Her deft fingers had found him by then even as she pressed her full lips behind his ear, and her voice had a throatiness to it that would've brought any man to his knees, "Who said anything about sleep? Or is that what you brought us here for?" she challenged him, a fine eyebrow arched as she looked at him expectantly.

He swallowed hard as he lost himself in her deep eyes, enraptured by her haunting beauty. "Ah... that would be a… no. This," he placed his hands on her hips, bringing her closer to him, "is closer to what I had in mind."

She giggled lightly at his tone, nestling herself into him against the water spraying on them.

Kal smiled at her then, leaning forward and kissing her, softly at first, then with increasing passion. It was with pounding heart and breathless anticipation that she broke that kiss, "It wouldn't be seemly to continue this here love, shall we retire to our bed?" she whispered huskily, eyes shining with love and desire.

He found himself unable to speak, lost in the moment and her beauty, and so was led by the hand back to their bed. Consumed by their mutual passion, Kal never noticed the small cloud coalescing outside the door, increasing in density till it formed a humanoid silhouette before fading completely.

-x-x-x-x-x-

**Aboard the VSX- 575C Corsair, Prince Kal's Personal Scout Craft, years ago:**

She was lying in bed, a sweet luxurious comfort even if it didn't match the opulence of her citadel, the Tower of Ages– of home. She watched the stars lend their silvery fluid through the window, causing the hyperalloy walls of her chamber to transform into a pattern of alternating pale blue and the ebony of shadows. What she valued most about sleeping in her own bed in her own chamber was knowing that she would be safe – not having to think about imminent death, not having to worry about some Dystopian prophecy – knowing that she'd finally changed her fate and nothing would be able to get to her in the solitude of space.

The warmth of the blankets covering her bed was soothing and she could not help but smile as sleep lulled her down into a peaceful darkness…

In the darkness a lone figured watched. He watched her breasts rise and fall rhythmically and felt a primal stirring deep within. She looked so… innocent, so… unguarded. His soft footfalls brought him to the edge of her bed. He was careful to not let his shadow fall across her quiet face.

He cautiously slid the blanket off her sleeping form, slowly revealing her long and naked legs beneath the sleeping gown that was bunched up around her thighs. If only he could just reach out and touch the skin – it must be as soft and giving as it looked…

She sensed the presence even before she fully awoke and opened her eyes and saw him. She felt the movement of air in her chamber, and as she sat bolt upright and reached for her blade, his hand was faster and darted out, grabbing her wrist. Her eyes shot upwards following the arm, to see who could have reflexes faster than her, and was stunned to see Kal standing at her bed. He was staring down at her, his eyes unfathomable, his lips tight.

"Kal-!" was all she could manage before his other hand reached out and clamped her solidly across the mouth. She looked up at him, alarmed, and every muscle in her body tensed.

Artemiera had said something about not trusting him. Althea had warned her about him. Even her own instincts had twitched uncomfortably whenever the strange yet disturbingly appealing warrior prince from another world was too near – or too far. Now it appeared that they were right and she had been too foolish to listen…

But he just held her there, pressed against the gilded headboard of her bed. His cerulean eyes bore into hers, searching yet not moving. Like a great cat, he held her still with his eyes, the powerful muscles of his arms shifting imperceptibly. She wanted to look around the room, to see what was within reach to grab and use as a weapon but she did not dare pull her eyes from his.

Her heart was beating frantically within her chest like a caged bird and she was certain he could see it right through her sleeping gown

Without relaxing his hold on her, he leaned in and whispered in her ear half-mockingly, "You're very pretty when you sleep, _Empress_. Really, if I had known how easy it would be to sneak into your room at night, I would have done so earlier in your tower itself."

His eyes were glowing with a strange light. She could feel the heat of his breath on her ear as he spoke and smell the strangely intoxicating scent of leather and wind. He held his body so close to hers that as she shivered in the cool night, she could feel the studs of his armor, the hilt of the psionic claymore in the holster at his side…

_His sword_!

Her mind snapped from her reverie and she remembered that her _other_ hand was still free. Without thinking, she grabbed frantically at his sword.

The warrior prince's eyes widened in surprise and it seemed as though he had forgotten as well. He let go of her mouth and went to grab at her other arm but that motion was enough to allow her to wriggle free from his grasp. She tumbled from the bed gracelessly, her sleeping gown tripping her to the floor.

There was no way she could fight him like this – no weapons, no armor, no magic, no clothes. But if she could just get to the bridge…get into an escape pod…

She had barely taken two steps when she felt his looming presence behind her. Her back stiffened, waiting for the searing heat of his claymore or the quick hot piercing of the blade's point.

_Gods, after everything I endured on the island, only to die like this…_

But the killing blow never came. Instead, she felt his arms wrap completely around her waist and in one fluid motion, he swung her back to the bed and threw her roughly and unceremoniously onto the thick blankets.

In the same motion, he followed suit and landed savagely on top of her, pinning her legs with his and her arms with his calloused hands.

"What were you trying to do – bring all of the ship's interior defenses down on us and have us both blown out of orbit?"

Her eyes widened as she looked at him but she could not help but whisper questioningly, "Kal?"

His face was irritated but at hearing his name uttered like that from her full lips, she saw a flicker move across his eyes and mouth like a passing breeze. He leaned in again, pressing his chest to hers and she felt the bed sink beneath them. "Sweet, pretty _Empress_," he said, letting the title bestowed upon her roll off his tongue almost disdainfully.

His eyes were roaming across her face almost absent-mindedly, but she had learnt in the short time she'd known him that a man like Kal did everything with a purpose. He smiled at her, his lips curling up, tauntingly, "You know what I want. And I know what you want, even if you don't know it yet or continue to deny it. We've played our little mind games with each other long enough, and there are other things I'd much rather do."

With that, he forced his lips to hers.

With this unfamiliar intimate touch she suddenly felt her whole body tightened like the strings on the harps she was so accustomed to hearing. She could feel the warmth of his skin on hers, the chiseled smoothness of his jaw-line; mixed with the scent of leather and wind was now sweat and the musky heady scent of a _man_. He still had her pinned to the bed as if he were afraid she'd run but now he had stretched out and had the fullness of his delicious weight pressing down the entire length of her body.

She couldn't help it – the weeks of having him on her island; seeing his silent but deadly form constantly going about his quest; the incessant verbal barbs and occasionally not-so-accidental touches as they had fought against, and then for each other, had brought her pent up frustrations to this maddening point and she felt her back arching up against her will and pressing back against his body.

This seemed to reassure him and he hungrily slipped his tongue inside her mouth.

His fingers loosened their grip on her wrists and slid up to intertwine gently with hers. Kal still held her to the soft bed but she felt a change – no longer was he afraid she'd escape – he was holding her because he wanted her desperately close, closer.

She could feel his lightweight body armor chafing against her nearly naked skin and suddenly the imposed distance between his naked skin and hers felt like a mile if it was an inch. Kal appeared to be thinking the same and his hands started tugging impatiently at her sleeping gown.

But she would do things _her_ way. He might have had the element of surprise, but now she wanted control. She wanted him unclothed first, vulnerable to her – Kal, for all his raw masculine charm, was still Kal with his keen, unpredictable edge. She swatted his fingers away and he bristled, his liquid blue eyes flashing dangerously in the dim light.

"Don't tease me, _Your Highness_," he growled lowly, the words resonating in his chest.

She snapped at him, "You _will _indulge me, my _Prince_, if you know what's good for you."

Her sudden aggressive and haughty tone seemed to have taken him aback and he looked at her cautiously but arrogantly, "I think I know exactly what's good for me." He bit her sharply on her lower lip and was pleased to hear her gasp in pain and pleasure.

"I think I've been indulging you enough Milady, going off on some wild quest or the other at your behest to save both our lives. Don't you think I could experience some of your famed kindness and generosity as a bit of a reward? Or do you reserve that for your loyal assassins?"

"You know," he pretended to muse thoughtfully, "I'd probably have been much more receptive about your directives if you had given them dressed like this." His fingers yanked her sleeping gown up another inch exposing more of her skin. Only a little more to go…

Her eyes never left his face but her fingers trailed up to his sides. His hands stopped hers when he felt her going towards his belt with his sword, causing his eyebrows to rise, "I thought we were past this?"

She smiled disarmingly, "We are, Kal, so now you have to trust me if you want some of my _famed kindness and generosity_." Her fingers continued to his belt buckle and nimbly she undid the belt and let the claymore and its holster clatter to the stone floor.

"Besides," she whispered, "That's not the sword I'm interested in tonight."

He felt her fingers slide along the waistline of his body armor – so close, yet so achingly far – and he let a longing whimper slip from his lips, burying his face in her neck and pushing his hips into her. She grabbed his waist and pulled him to her, pushing her hips into his but she made no move to loosen his trousers.

Kal pressed his mouth hungrily to the smooth skin of her neck, nipping gently at the flesh, hoping his urgency would goad her into working faster at removing these bulky trappings of civilization – he wanted to feel his nakedness against hers, to strip both of them of the falsities of society and to have her as a real, primal woman. He could smell the scent of exotic flowers wafting up from the heat of her skin.

_A warrior who wore flowers…_

He inhaled deeply, recognizing the scent of the yellow orchid, and his mind drifted back to the first battle they had fought together since their paths had crossed again.

_Kal had been particularly daring that one time, flying his VXSC 595 Cael Class Imperial Interceptor right into the leviathan's mouth, in this case, right through a blockade of Nerubian destroyers._

_He'd lulled them in first, piloting in a damaged and evacuated frigate, dangling an offer of surrender as bait. They'd fallen for the ruse completely, and by the time they discovered it, Kal had used the frigate as a battering ram with devastating effect, sacrificing it in the process. Before the Nerubians knew what hit them, his gambit had accounted for three of their destroyers. _

_Kal smiled in satisfaction. The Corugian Horse was the oldest trick in the universe and it still worked like a charm. If they were so incompetent, then they definitely deserved the education he was about to give them, not that it would do them any good._

_Now that he had their attention, a squadron of Vipers was scrambling into battle formation, fifteen of them heading out to flank him. Kal didn't think it was a fair match at all. For them._

_He had mastered his fighter, the nimble craft now an extension of his will; the claymore he swung to enforce Krypton's will. The VXSC 595 Cael Class Imperial Interceptor was the ultimate space superiority machine, especially in skilled hands like his. Nobody stood a chance._

_He flew the Cael Interceptor into them, effortlessly dodging their lasers and torpedoes, and firing short laser bursts in return. Three of the vipers fell to almost comical errors, crashing into the interwoven laser-net even as they tried to evade his aim._

_Four more fell to his incisive laser bursts and he dispatched another three using a single missile._

_That left five of them. Against the Cael Interceptor's total superiority, especially in a supremely skilled pilot's hands, as was presently the case, they were sitting ducks._

_Kal swung his fighter around, the craft obediently diving below the drones into an impossible corkscrew loop and an alley-oop through the mesh of the laser-net trap. He was rewarded well for the extremely demanding and risky evasive-offensive maneuver- he'd ended up perfectly placed above and behind them, the vipers' tails to him._

_Right where he wanted them._

_Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he sent his fighter down towards them, prepared to rain their doom from above, guns blazing. In less than three seconds, all his hits found their mark, the fighters reduced to space scrap._

_That was just too easy, childishly simple. Now he had to neutralize their defenses on land, which were no doubt on high alert now that he had decimated their space fleet._

_He didn't waste a moment. Fully expecting the 'reception committee' that'd be awaiting him on solid ground, he charged in, weapons armed and locked, strafing and picking off every tank and cannon and fighter before they could mobilize._

_This was supposed to be a simple mission- dive in; cripple the fleet; breach the base and retrieve or eliminate the target, whatever it was; and get the hell out. So far, it had been going perfectly as planned. Until now._

_He chanced upon the trail of broken bodies once he landed, the wake of a devastating rampage._

_They'd all died horrifically, no doubt screaming in agony as they were torn apart. Kal frowned grimly. Whatever had done this; he needed to be ready._

_He heard the characteristic whistling sound and immediately brought his psionic claymore up behind his back, slicing the energy snare in half._

_Another three snares came spinning at him, and he acrobatically dodged them with fluid twists of his large frame, flexibly arching back and cartwheeling obliquely through the air. But he wasn't done yet._

_He caught a flicker of movement amidst the trees hiding the base and promptly gave chase. His adversaries might be as fleet-footed as they came, but they hadn't counted on someone of Kal's consummate talents._

_Fuelled by the rush of impending combat against someone equally dangerous, Kal leapt up and swung like a gymnast onto a thick branch high up, sprinting across the dense foliage and propelling himself from tree to tree. He abruptly dove to his right, rolling in midair to offer a smaller target, and then he struck._

_Two blades clashed and crackled, and he tackled his assailant in mid-air, sending them both hurtling down and crashing through branches; and corrected their fall so that he slammed the hooded warrior hard on the ground, landing on top._

_He held the tip of his sword to the throat as he pulled back the hood, and froze._

_Her._

"_Kal, we need to stop meeting like this," one corner of her lips turned upwards as she looked at him; her smile half mockery, half challenge; all seduction._

_Just when he'd thought he was numb to the world; that nothing could get to him, he'd been proven wrong. At best, he'd just been in temporary stasis, waiting for a lightning bolt to reanimate him._

_He stepped back cautiously, still holding his blade parallel to the ground, "Diane?"_

_She was still every bit as achingly beautiful as he remembered, and every bit as dangerous. She smiled, "You remember me. I'm touched."_

_He took notice of her outfit, a skintight black and red suit sequined with green, designed more for mobility than for modesty, that hugged and accentuated every seductive curve on her statuesque figure._

_His mouth went dry. It was almost as if she wore it with that very intention, to distract, seduce and disorient her male opponents during combat._

_Although, with her stunning looks, he figured she didn't really need to try at all._

_He couldn't let her work him over, not yet. "What are you doing here?" he demanded sharply._

"_Doesn't it look obvious? The same thing I always do. Saving your tight ass- again. You're way over your head this time."_

_He didn't have time to reply. The ground shook violently, a thunderous rumble reverberating through it._

_He steadied himself, just in time to see it coming. He shoved her forcefully out of harm's way before back flipping to relative safety, narrowly avoiding the giant horror erupting out of its burrow._

_Kal finally saw it- two pairs of densely muscled arms with vicious claws and a grotesque, gnarled reptilian head on the largest bipedal frame of organic origin he'd ever seen, covered in armor plating and outfitted with a lethal array of weapons to bolster its destructive arsenal. The beast stood at a good eight meters, despite being hunched over for speed, bony prominences and vertebrae protruding out like thick natural armor._

_An imposing mass of metal and muscle, an abomination of science that defied sane thought. The rumored war golem. Kal hadn't thought it actually existed._

_Any doubts on its existence were swiftly laid to rest as one of the clawed arms shot out at him, his reflexes being all that saved him from instant impaction under ten meters of solid bedrock._

_He dodged the next swipe and brought his blade down on the joints. Sparks flew, but the blasted hyperalloy didn't even have a shallow scratch to show for his efforts._

_He looked over, and saw her languidly swinging and evading with all the grace of a blade dancer, one of the many female assassins he had encountered and battled. Once more, he couldn't help but wonder about her hidden past. _

_Kal deflected a laser with his blade, only to be knocked back painfully by the concussive force. They needed fresh tactics._

_He caught her gaze, nodded for her to follow his lead and charged in. If this was going to work, he was going to need her help._

_Just as he'd always needed her right since they first fought together._

_Eventually, she'd provided perfect foil for him, drawing out another swipe with the arm. This time, Kal had been ready, and pounced on his chance._

_He flipped back out of the way, and then leapt onto the arm, the golem inadvertently catapulting him upwards in a vigorous attempt to throw him off._

_Kal didn't waste another crucial moment, going straight for the jugular, literally. Using his blade as a fulcrum, he'd dug into the joints between the massive cyborg's cervical armor plates and swung his weight around, using the momentum to slingshot into a perch between its shoulders._

_He fought to maintain his precarious hold as the golem fired another salvo at her as she languidly evaded each missile, practically toying with and taunting the colossal hybrid, and then he plunged his blade into the primitive ganglion with all his might._

_The abomination seemed unharmed, still swinging its arm towards its back, attempting to claw him out like he was a flea, which he very well might've been, given their sheer disparity in size and power._

_And then…_

_Kal swiveled on the claymore's point, twisting and lunging out of its reach, and then the claw stopped a hair's breadth from his eyes._

_The gargantuan beast stood stock still, and then shuddered violently before careening forward. Kal desperately ran up the shoulders to avoid being crushed under its weight and then ran up its head as the cybernetically enhanced carnivore went almost horizontal, and then he went for a furious, make-or-break dive._

_Kal propelled himself off the crown of the golem's massive skull with everything he had, tackling her out of the way seconds before impact. The resulting tremor brought him to his knees. He looked up, and that's when he actually saw her, saw it in her._

_She certainly had a knack for bringing him to his knees._

_He could afford to try to joke about it. After all, they'd just destroyed a new golem prototype, and lived to brag. Not many other warriors could make that claim._

_Of course, with the two of them fighting together in clockwork precision the way they just had, as if sharing a collective consciousness, nobody had really stood a chance._

_She had looked so powerful, standing in the mud, covered in dirt, holding her blade confidently in her hand, her chest heaving from exertion and surrounded by fallen enemies, that it was all he could do not to strip her down and have her ferociously right there and then amidst the carnage and trampled grass._

_She had looked up into his eyes when she noticed him staring, her face unreadable with the flurry of emotions passing through it in the aftermath of battle. _

_Her lips had parted as her face suddenly softened with understanding, but then she seemed to have changed her mind and shifting her weight to her other foot, had asked simply and crisply, "Are you hurt?"_

_He had merely grunted and brushed his way past her towards his fighter, and that was when he had smelled that provocative perfume..._

_No – he was far worse than hurt…_

He cupped her face roughly while he kissed her mouth, feeling her tongue plunge inside commandingly. His mouth worked against hers with an untamed, desperate desire.

Her fingers quivered slightly as she began undoing the clasps that held Kal in his light body-armor and as she struggled to pull it off of him, her eyes caught his. He was staring at her with an unmasked carnal wanting and she felt an electrical tingle move up her spine.

He was now clothed only in a simple dark blue tunic and his brown pants, yet they seemed to impossibly hug and define his sculpted muscles. She could feel his chest heaving against her with his ragged but controlled breaths. He was trembling in anticipating, waiting for her to make the next move.

Indulging her.

She pushed him up to a sitting position and practically ripped the tunic from his torso. His body was taut like a finely balanced weapon, rippling with power. His shoulders were broad and powerful and she used them to pull herself up to look at him face to face. There was a moment of stillness, of silence, as they both considered one another in the dark.

_Oh Kal, _she thought, though she didn't dare speak his name aloud for fear of breaking whatever silent spell held them in the night.

_Kal, Kal, Kal…_ the voice in her head chanted, savoring the way his name sounded in her mind. He seemed to do likewise, unwilling to utter her name in anything beyond a whisper lest she disappear before his eyes.

Impulsively, even lovingly, she reached out and tousled his thick, raven hair. He seemed surprised at her gentle touch and she watched, for an instance, as the hard lines of his expression softened, the guarded weariness drained from his eyes and all the tension and harshness left the angles of his face.

She took note of how his dark lashes rimmed his eyes, emphasizing the cerulean blue of his iris. In that moment, she saw not the cool, ever vigilant warrior, hardened from years of running and fighting, but the soft boy of yesteryears and the man he could have been if the Fates had not dealt him his tragic hand.

The unfairness of it suddenly left her angry and hurt for the both of them.

It wasn't their fault that they were both trapped in these circumstances, her as the former Empress, once a prisoner in her own tower, now a traitor and a pawn; and him as the haunted, tormented Prince. In any other lifetime, things could have been normal – they could have been normal…

But there was no one for her to take her sudden anger out on except for him. She pushed him back violently onto the bed and he fell back easily, willingly. Her hands tugged off his boots, and then worked feverishly to undo the belt that held his trousers on.

She could see the hard bulge in his pants, and as the trousers came off and crumpled to the floor, she turned to him and unabashedly let her eyes and fingers trail from his feet, up his legs.

She caressed his inner thigh, making small circles but it was her own skin that prickled at the intimacy of their contact. She threw her right leg over him and straddled his midsection, acutely aware of the heat emanating from him between her legs, separated only by a thin, inadequate sleeping gown.

Kal stared up at her and licked his lips, barely keeping the snide smirk off his lips. This was turning out better than he had ever expected or planned. He could see the shape of her breasts silhouetted in the dark, the nipples pert and upturned because of the cold...or because of him.

Without asking, he pulled the gown over her head and tossed it into the pile next to her bed. Suddenly freed from the last vestige of clothing and civility, the last of her inhibition seemed to fall away into the pile of clothing and armor along with her gown.

He pulled her down on top of him and wrapped his arms around her waist once again, as his legs wove their way around hers. He squeezed his limbs so that her body was pressed tightly to his, every space becoming flesh and watched her throw her head back, eyes shut and lips parted, her hair tumbling around her shoulders.

His teeth razed the smooth, honeyed skin of her exposed throat and he squeezed her harder, grabbing at whatever piece of her he could between his fingers and pinching it mercilessly. He could feel her nails digging into his upper arms every time he pressed her harder into him and sensed the quickening of her breath.

He felt her lips kiss his collarbone and work their way down his rippling, well-muscled chest to his brownish-pink nipples. He couldn't fight back a groan as he felt her tongue slip out and caress them sensually. He felt the throbbing between his legs increase fervently…

He growled suddenly, impatiently, and rolled over in the bed, pinning her once again beneath him. This time he felt her soft body give beneath him and instinctually he used his legs to part hers. He looked down into her eyes, with its dark wide pupils, and she met his squarely, glistening in the dark, and she made no movement to stop him.

He needed no further encouragement and the predator finally took his prey.

With the first hard thrust, he felt her entire body lifting and arching against him, nearly bucking him off her lithe body with a strength that surprised him. He felt the flesh beneath him give way; and he was then surrounded by her soft warmth.

Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders and her hands gripped his thick hair, pulling his face to hers.

She kissed him hurriedly, without reserve, and he found himself responding in kind. His lips moved to her ear then down to where the delicate line of her neck met her shoulders and he took her skin between his teeth, sucking hard and tasting her sweetness. There would be a welt there tomorrow, he knew it, and relished the thought of leaving his indelible mark on her flawless skin.

"_Kal…._" He heard her breathe in his ear as he pushed deeper into her, impaling her.

She clung to the back of his neck, bracing herself against the onslaught of his thrusts. He seemed utterly lost in his passion, his eyes never leaving her body – all the months of tension between the two of them disappearing with each rocking motion of his hips. His skin was hot against hers and she could feel his sweat as he angrily heaved into her. He was so wild and untamed and unpredictable.

Her head was getting light as his fingers and mouth found their way across her body. She wanted to stop him, stop him before he pushed her over the edge of pleasure into the gloriously decadent bliss that would leave her more naked and open than she was now.

She could feel the burning knot of pressure building in her middle, keening towards a frenzied pitch.

She opened her mouth to say something, to tell him to slow or stop but all that came out was a shuddering moan. That seemed to renew his vigor and he plunged into her harder and deeper – and she knew she was lost to him.

She was forced let go of all thought and consideration of who or what Kal was. Warrior and pacifist, a leader and a hero, godlike and mortal – a bundle of strange contradictions but it did not matter.

It did not matter as his final thrust into her burst the bubbling tension in her and she felt the exploding heat shoot through every muscle in her body.

"Kal!" she cried aloud, to the man – the Kryptonian, the warrior, the hero, the champion; all of him – who was with her, as she trembled violently against him.

She heard him say her name between broken gasps of breath and she felt his body, every muscle that was against her, tighten as he pushed wholly into her one last time…

When she awoke, he was gone, the bed still giving off the lingering heat where he'd slept beside her. She put her hand where his body had been and noticed a yellow flower on her pillow. She smiled.

It was an orchid.

So, he _had_ noticed and he knew.

A quiet shift in the air of the room and she realized she had been wrong – he wasn't gone, he'd never left and as she looked up, she saw him standing powerful and silent at the edge of the shadows, where he had been watching her sleep…

Guarding her…

-x-x-x-x-x-

**Calaran:**

"Are we lost, father?"

"Not yet, but I'll tell you if we are."

Kal had made a promise to himself to always be honest with his son, even if it meant admitting fallibility. He regretted it sometimes. He had been riding into the Eastern forests with seven-year-old Apollo and an entourage of four guards, but the two of them had become separated from the rest when Apollo stopped to examine a rare and spectacularly plumed avian species hovering around a rather large and exquisite flower.

The danger of being alone in the forest was always bandits, who preyed on travelers. He had strived for years with Bryce to rid the passageways of outlaws and thieves but no matter how hard they tried, there was never enough manpower to patrol the entire planet. Unless of course he raised the salaries of the provincial guard to attract more recruits, which meant changing the entire services pay scale and getting the revenue from either increased taxes on trade or from the citizens.

Kal sighed at the thought. No one ever said running a partial democracy was easy. It was true; uneasy sat the head that wore the crown.

Even as he thought about it, he heard the hum of his Vulcan 5 hypercycle lose pitch, as the bike suddenly began to lose altitude. Kal tried to manually override, to no avail. Something, or someone, was scrambling the cold fusion engine's powertrain as well as the bike's avionics systems. He managed to bring the bike gliding on its existing momentum and bring it into the rough brush, largely undamaged.

Four men and four androids suddenly sprung out of nowhere to surround them. Most of them were armed with melee weaponry- electro-staves and psionic blades, but two of the androids were artillery drones, outfitted with illegal de-atomizer pulse cannons trained at Apollo and himself.

"We'll take that bike, thank you." A blond man dressed in Luskanite covert ops gear who appeared to be the leader sauntered up to them and grasped the controls of Kal's silver and gold Vulcan, "And relieve you of your purse, as well as that ring." He pointed at Kal's wedding band, which was simple white gold bearing a star sapphire the cost of several backwater planets.

"Father..."

"It's all right, son, they're just possessions." He had taught Apollo the drill for such a situation. The cardinal rule was- _if ever apprehended, never let on who you really are if they don't know already._

They were forced to comply. Kal was stripped of his ring and his cloak, which was a rich wool woven from a rare animal encountered only on the treacherous mountains of Terra Rubra. Apollo had to give up his golden circlet, a good luck charm given to him by his mother.

"Thank you for your generosity," said the leader, "We apologize however for having to take your son. He would do well in the pterylium mines of Amn."

Kal felt a potent fury surge through him. He had outlawed slavery in the queendom, but he couldn't do anything about the neighboring planets, unless he asked Galatea to invade them. If he managed to get Apollo out of this, he would personally hunt down every lowlife in the galaxy.

If they required him to trade in his freedom or even his life for Apollo's, he would do it in an instant. But he would have to have a strategy first. He eyed the two artillery drones. They were the wild cards in the equation, why he couldn't engage the group in immediate hand-to-hand combat.

Before anyone in the group could react, he'd grabbed the nearest artillery drone, somehow ripping off an arm fitted with a pulse cannon. Separated from the main body of the drone, the gun had enough reserve power for just one shot, so he had to make it count.

The other drone turned to target him, and Kal dropped flat on his belly to fire in unison with the drone. It worked out exactly as Kal intended, and in one fell swoop, he'd eliminated both drones, dramatically altering the equation.

Two of the men with the electro-staves were quickly taken care of, short work once they were disarmed. That left the swordsmen. Kal turned his attention to them, moving with a speed that should've been beyond a man his size as he threw his hidden knife with pinpoint precision, nailing one of them in the wrist.

The unfortunate highwayman screamed in pain, incapable of retaliating as Kal used his knee as a springboard to vault over his shoulder, relieving him of his weapon and running him through the chest from behind.

Another highwayman came at him with his sword arm raised, only to be knocked back into a tree with a roundhouse kick, his weapon sent into the air.

The others looked on in stunned silence as the larger man ran vertically up a tree and leapt over them, seemingly propelling himself in defiance of gravity to catch the second blade, and then, spun gracefully while still in mid air, plunging into a diving corkscrew to swing the blades around in a spiral through the last infantry droid. In one move, the droid fell apart into four crackling segments, the overheating reactor sending out sparks before it imploded.

Kal landed light as a feather, twirling the twin blades like they were twigs. Now armed with not one, but two of his favored weapons, and with the clear speed and strength advantage, he made a very menacing picture as he regarded the remaining bandits, all terrified out of their wits. The hunters, who had thought they'd chanced upon an easy mark, were suddenly the hunted.

It wasn't to last however. He heard the click and distinctive crackle of a gun being armed behind him, "Nice moves big man, but they won't save you. One more fancy move and the boy gets it."

Kal looked over his shoulder, his grip over the hilts of the swords tightening. Sure enough, the leader was holding a seizure pistol to Apollo's head. While the small sidearm was of little use beyond twenty yards, at point blank range it could discharge enough electricity to route a two-ton Ursa astralis, a _star bear_'s synapses, causing the equivalent of an electromagnetic pulse within the brain.

Plainly put, fired at point blank, the gun was simply lethal. Kal knew he was defeated. He'd taken Apollo in as his own son, sworn to protect him and look out for him, and he'd failed.

_It's your fault_, he told himself. _You allowed this to happen. You shouldn't have allowed him to stop and ask the others to go ahead. Some responsible father you are._

"Threatening children now, are we, Tomas?"

Everyone turned to the female voice that had spoken. A dark maroon-clad woman had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, with a large gauss rifle held to the leader's head. Kal felt himself stiffen when he saw her - she had long, shimmering black hair, brilliant blue eyes, a radiantly beautiful face and a no-nonsense demeanor that suggested she was every bit as deadly as she was ravishing.

A powerful wave of déjà vu swept through him, his strongest yet; as he recognized her as the mysterious woman he'd been failing to save in his dreams. And he knew with conviction he had loved this woman before with the world-hurtling, heart-wrenching passion he had described to Bryce.

Kal swallowed. It wasn't her, it couldn't be…

"Stay out of this, Diane," Tomas replied. "It's none of your business."

_Diane!_

In trepidation, Kal raised his eyes to meet that of the woman's.

* * *

TBC

_A/N: Yes, twisted is my new middle name, lol. I hope the… exotic love scene was up to the lofty standards of our readers and I promise there'll be more down the line as part of my penitence for the wait, hehe._

_Until the next chapter, take care._

_Cael_


End file.
