Inside the Torch office, Chloe sat at her desk, rifling through a stack of files. Her fingers paused on a particular folder, and she pulled it free with a small sound of triumph.
She held up the file, waving it slightly to catch Clark's attention.
"Mandy and Rhonda did a science fair project together. So?"
"According to the chemistry teacher, they researched a hormone called phenylethylamine."
"Phenylethylamine?" Clark opened the file and began reading the contents more carefully. "The love molecule." He looked up at Chloe. "So it's a love potion?"
"Yeah, but it didn't work." Chloe gestured at the file. "At least, not in their original experiment."
Clark's expression grew more serious as the implications became clear. "Until they added the meteor rock. We have to find a way to reverse the effect."
"Well, it must wear off at some point. Otherwise, they wouldn't keep juicing the football players. They'd only need to dose them once if it were permanent."
"We don't have much time." Clark set the file down, his voice carrying an edge of urgency. "What if another player goes into a jealous rage and hurts someone?"
Chloe studied Clark's face, something clicking in her mind. "Wait a minute. You drank some of it, too. I saw you." Her eyes narrowed with curiosity. "How come you're not going all love slave?"
"I threw up right after drinking it."
"That science report's in Mandy's faux Prada bag. Presumably, it can tell us how to reverse this, right?" Chloe leaned forward, her investigative instincts in full swing. "And still, you could be infected."
Clark considered this, his jaw tightening as he thought through the possibilities.
Chloe's expression shifted, becoming teasingly flirtatious as she wore a mischievous smile. "The cheerleaders are having a pool party tonight. How do you look in a swimsuit, Clark?"
Before he could respond, movement in the hallway caught their attention. Through the glass windows of the Torch office, they could see Tyson, Coach Teague, and Lana walking past. When Tyson noticed the lights were on in the office, he stopped and popped his head through the doorway.
"What's up Fred, Velma, got a case?" Tyson asked.
"The cheerleaders are dosing the football players with love potion," Chloe said without preamble.
"I know. They got Lana earlier."
Chloe looked between Tyson and Lana, her eyes widening. "Wow, that must have been awkward." But as she watched Tyson raise his eyebrow, and saw how Lana simply looked away with only the slightest hint of embarrassment rather than the mortification one might expect, realization dawned on her face. "Oh, or not. Well, congrats, I guess."
The moment was interrupted by Coach Teague stepping into the room. "Well, this is cute," he said, looking around at the assembled group, taking in Clark and Chloe at their desks, Tyson in the doorway with Jason and Lana visible behind him. "So what was your plan? We can't have half the football team being love-sick puppies."
— Meteor Freak —
The swimming pool at Smallville High School had been transformed into something that belonged more in Miami than Kansas. Colored lights pulsed in rhythm with the thumping bass that echoed off the tiled walls. Football players and cheerleaders filled the space, some lounging on inflatable furniture that bobbed lazily in the water, others clustered around the pool's edge with drinks in hand. A particularly enthusiastic linebacker launched himself off the diving board with a cannonball that sent a cascade of water splashing across nearby partygoers, who shrieked and laughed as they scrambled away from the wave. The music pumped louder to compensate for the noise, creating an atmosphere that felt more like a nightclub than a school function. A muscular guy wearing board shorts made his way around the pool's perimeter, balancing a tray of colorful cocktails.
Near the pool's edge, Mandy stood with her arms crossed, watching the festivities with a bored expression. When the server approached, she plucked one of the drinks from his tray without so much as a thank you, taking a delicate sip while her eyes swept the crowd like a queen monitoring her domain. Beyond the main pool area, a cluster of students had gathered to watch an impromptu entertainment. Three football players, clearly under the influence of something stronger than school spirit, had donned grass skirts and coconut shell bikini tops. They swayed and gyrated in what could generously be called a hula dance.
The entrance doors opened, and Clark stepped through first, wearing swim trunks and a simple t-shirt with a towel draped casually over his shoulder. His eyes immediately found the dancing football players, and he paused for a moment, taking in the surreal scene.
Tyson followed, shirtless and confident, his athletic build drawing immediate attention from several cheerleaders near the entrance. Lana entered beside him, wearing a modest but flattering bathing suit that somehow managed to make her stand out even in a room full of cheerleaders in similar attire.
"Well," Lana murmured as she watched the hula dancers, "this is definitely not what I expected from a Smallville pool party."
Tyson's gaze swept the room, taking in the layout and the various groups of students. "Looks like the love potion's working overtime tonight."
Clark nodded toward a table near where Mandy stood. "There," he said quietly. "The purse."
Lana followed his gaze and spotted the designer bag sitting unattended on a nearby table. Mandy had her back to them, still nursing her drink and surveying her kingdom.
Their entrance hadn't gone unnoticed. Several cheerleaders had spotted Tyson and Lana's arrival, and excited whispers began spreading through their group. Within moments, a small crowd of football players had begun moving in their direction, with the aggressive confidence of young men under chemical influence.
"Looks like we've got company," Tyson said under his breath.
The first player to reach them was a linebacker named Derek, his pupils slightly dilated as he looked between Tyson and Lana with obvious confusion. "Hey, what are you doing here?"
More players gathered around them, forming a loose semicircle that effectively blocked their path further into the party. Their body language was territorial. Clark, however, found himself able to move freely through the crowd. The players seemed to barely register his presence, their attention entirely focused on the perceived intrusion of Tyson and Lana. He made his way steadily toward the table where Mandy's purse sat, trying to appear casual and unhurried.
The commotion near the entrance drew Mandy's attention. She turned from her position by the pool, her expression shifting from boredom to irritation as she spotted the source of the disturbance.
"You weren't invited to this party," Mandy said as she approached the group. Her gaze fixed on Lana with particular venom. "Especially not with the girl who quit."
The cheerleaders behind her murmured agreement, their expressions ranging from hostile to smugly satisfied. The football players shifted closer.
Tyson stepped forward, moving close enough to Mandy that he could catch the faint scent of her expensive perfume. He'd never been able to make Desiree Atkins' power work before. But he thought he knew why. Every time he'd tried, it had been on men. When Desiree used her power, it mainly affected Lex and other guys.
So now, standing this close to Mandy, he focused on that ability. He could feel something shifting in the air around him, a subtle change that seemed to shimmer just at the edge of his vision.
"You should invite us in," he said.
For just a moment, Mandy's eyes seemed to lose focus. She inhaled slightly, and Tyson could swear he saw the faintest trace of pink mist swirling between them, visible to him but apparently invisible to everyone else watching the confrontation.
Mandy blinked, her expression shifting from hostility to something more neutral. "Never mind," she said, waving a dismissive hand at the football players still surrounding them. "He's on the team. Let them in."
The players looked confused but stepped back, their chemically-enhanced loyalty to Mandy overriding their initial hostility. The cheerleaders exchanged glances, clearly surprised by their leader's sudden change of heart.
Behind them, Clark had reached the table unnoticed. His fingers closed around the research folder tucked inside Mandy's purse, and he slipped it free. The music and party chaos provided perfect cover as he tucked the folder against his body and began making his way toward the exit.
Lana leaned in closer to Tyson, her voice barely audible over the pounding music. "I didn't know you could do that."
Tyson glanced around at the cheerleaders who were still watching them with newfound acceptance, then back at Lana. "I'll have to explain to you what really happened at Lex Luthor's wedding. I haven't used it before tonight." His expression grew more serious as he considered their situation. "But for a situation like this, with so many people being controlled, it's the best option. Unless you want me to just beat everyone up."
Lana's face showed clear discomfort with both alternatives, but after a moment of internal struggle, she gave a reluctant nod. She didn't look happy, but she didn't have a better idea.
Tyson turned back to Mandy, who was still standing nearby with that slightly unfocused expression. "Mandy, why don't you sit with us, and bring the other girls over too?"
"Of course," Mandy said, her voice carrying an odd, dreamy quality. She gestured to the other cheerleaders scattered around the pool area. "Girls, come over here."
Within minutes, Tyson found himself the center of attention of the entire cheer team. They arranged themselves in a loose circle around him and Lana, some sitting on pool chairs, others perching on the edge of nearby tables. The football players, still under the influence of the love molecule, seemed content to continue their party activities without interference.
Despite being surrounded by attractive cheerleaders, Tyson was really only allowing Lana in his personal space. When Rhonda tried to slide closer to him on the bench where he sat, Lana noticed and settled beside him, cutting her off. Thankfully, he didn't need to carry the conversation. The cheerleaders were happy to talk about all kinds of things, and only engage with him sparingly. They chattered about upcoming games, complained about their chemistry teacher's latest assignment, and gossiped about various school drama. Tyson nodded and made appropriate responses, but his attention was focused elsewhere. All the while, he was breathing deeply, watching as the pink mist saturated the area. It was visible only to him. The mist drifted lazily through the humid pool air, settling around the cheerleaders like an invisible fog. He could see it being drawn in with each breath they took, their expressions growing progressively more relaxed and agreeable.
Mandy laughed at something one of the other girls said, the sound carrying none of her usual sharp edge. "You know, this is actually really nice. We should do this more often."
The other cheerleaders murmured agreement, their usual competitive dynamics temporarily suspended. Even the girls who normally couldn't stand each other were chatting amicably.
Tyson waited, monitoring the subtle changes in their behavior. The pink mist continued to swirl, and he could feel the power working through the group. Once all of the girls had inhaled enough of the mist, their pupils showing the telltale slight dilation that indicated the power had taken hold, Tyson made his move.
"Alright," he said, his voice carrying a new authority that made all the cheerleaders turn to look at him attentively. "Let's send all the guys home. It's getting late." The girls nodded along without question, their agreement immediate and unthinking. "Also," Tyson continued, "any notes you guys have on the love molecule, phenylethylamine... Destroy those. Digital copies, everything. If you have any of it left, dump it in the toilet, too."
"Of course," Mandy said, her voice still carrying that dreamy quality. "We should have done that already. It was getting out of hand."
Rhonda nodded enthusiastically. "I'll delete everything from my laptop when I get home."
"And I'll flush what's left in my locker," another cheerleader added.
The group began moving with purpose, the cheerleaders calling out to the football players scattered around the pool area. "Party's over, guys!" Mandy announced. "Time to head home!"
The players began gathering their things. Their loyalty to the cheerleaders overrode any desire to keep partying.
Tyson stood, holding Lana's hand. "Thanks for letting us party with you," he said to the assembled cheerleaders. "Good night."
"Good night!" they chorused back.
As they walked out of the pool area, Lana waited until they were well clear of the others before speaking. "Why didn't you make them forget about it?"
"Ms. Atkins' power, like the Gatorade they served, needs reinforcement. It's not permanent control. It's more like a suggestion that works for a little while." He glanced back at the school building, where they could still hear the sounds of the party winding down. "Clark got the folder, so Chloe can do her thing, and we'll see how Jason… err Dean, will contribute."
They reached the exit, but he made no move to push through the doors. Instead, he turned to face Lana fully. "I can tell you're a little upset about this power," he said quietly. "Let's go talk about it. Do you want to head back to the Talon, or if it's made you that uncomfortable, somewhere public? The Beanery should still be open for another hour or so."
Lana shook her head, though her expression remained troubled. "You're right, but the Talon is fine." She met his eyes directly, and despite the uncertainty he could see there, she said, "I trust you."
— Meteor Freak —
Tyson poured some water, then handed Lana the glass and settled onto the couch across from her, studying her face in the soft lamplight.
"So," he began, running his thumb along the edge of his own glass. "Ms. Atkins was engaged to Lex, but she was a meteor freak. Kara had been suspicious of her from the start, but Lex had always been impulsive when it came to women." He paused, meeting Lana's eyes. "Since I can see auras on those with powers, I could tell she wasn't normal. The day of the wedding, I was in the bridal suite under the pretense of helping out as Kara's date. But I was really there for Ms. Atkins." Tyson's voice grew quieter. "I gave her a foot massage, and as gently as I could, I took her power. She didn't notice at the time. I was as subtle as I could be during the absorption process." He set his glass down on the coffee table. "When things went down at the wedding, and she tried to manipulate Lex, it didn't work. Her power's effect had already faded, and she couldn't reapply it because I'd taken that ability from her."
Lana was quiet for a long moment, then she asked the question he'd been expecting. "Have you ever used it on me? Or on Kara when you were dating?"
Tyson shook his head immediately. "No. Never. And Kara left town the next day…"
The weight of that simple answer hung between them. Lana studied his face, searching for any hint of deception. After what felt like an eternity, she nodded slowly.
"I believe you." She took a sip of water, then continued. "My feelings for you have remained consistent even when we haven't been near each other for days. Like after the whole Tina thing, I was still thinking about you, still wanting to be with you."
Tyson felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. "Thank you for trusting me."
"So Kara knows about your powers," Lana said, setting her glass down. "Who else besides me knows?"
Tyson shifted on the couch, counting on his fingers. "Uh, well, Dean knows, obviously. All the Kents know." He paused, thinking. "I suppose the people I stole powers from know that something is up. Damn." He really thought about it. "Jodi knows. So maybe Pete does, but he hasn't said anything. Oh, and Clark's girlfriend, Kyla—I healed her. I think that's all." But he sounded uncertain, his voice trailing off as if he was still mentally cataloging people.
Lana raised an eyebrow. "Are you concerned that so many people know?"
"Eh, not really." Tyson shrugged, seeming genuinely unbothered. "Most of the people that know are either arrested or trustworthy. There isn't much in between."
"Arrested?"
"The meteor freaks whose powers I absorbed. Most of them ended up in Belle Reve or county lockup after whatever scheme they were running fell apart." He counted them off. "Greg with his bug thing and abducting you, Coach Walt with the arson and attempted murder, Tina with her shapeshifting and killing her mother. They're all locked up now. Cyrus is still in that coma-like state, last I heard."
Lana nodded slowly. "And the trustworthy ones?"
"The Kents are basically family at this point. Dean doesn't seem like a snitch. Kyla's a sweetheart." Tyson's expression grew more serious. "Jodi... well, I helped her because her power was one of those really bad ones. She's kept it quiet."
"What about Pete?" Lana asked. "You said maybe he knows?"
"Pete was knocked out that night and almost became one of Jodi's victims. But now they're dating. If Jodi told him, he's never brought it up with me directly. But Pete's solid."
Lana was quiet for a moment. "It's a bigger circle than I expected."
"Yeah, but think about it. Most of these people found out because I was helping them or someone they cared about. The Kents, when I helped Clark. Kyla, when I healed her. Jodi, when I dealt with her situation." Tyson met her eyes. "I don't go around advertising what I can do, but sometimes circumstances force the issue."
"And Kara?"
"Kara figured it out pretty quickly. She's... perceptive." His voice portrayed their complicated history.
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Lana spoke again.
"I know this wasn't how you wanted the day to go. But I really had a great time with you this afternoon."
Tyson raised an eyebrow. "You mean the whole cooking part, or what came after?"
Lana snorted, a genuine laugh escaping her. "What came after."
"Me too." His voice carried warmth and something deeper. The memory of her skin against his, the way she'd responded to his touch, the soft sounds she'd made.
"We never did finish that conversation about whether we're official and letting everyone know," Tyson said.
Lana sighed. "Well, Chloe knows something's going on. And so does Clark." She paused, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. "Dean probably knows and saw way too much."
She rubbed her temples. "I don't really want to think about this right now. The cheerleaders were enough drama for one night." Instead of dwelling on the complications, Lana reached across the space between them and grabbed his hand. Her fingers intertwined with his, warm and sure. "Come tuck me into bed?"
Tyson blinked in surprise. "You're staying?"
"Yeah."
"What about Nell?"
Lana squeezed his hand. "I'll text her and explain tomorrow. If we're going to tell everyone or not, I'm going to tell her first." She shrugged, though he could see the slight nervousness in her expression. "How mad can she be? You saved her business."
Tyson stood, pulling her up with him. The simple request felt intimate in a way that had nothing to do with sex. It was about trust, about choosing to stay despite everything that had been revealed tonight. About wanting to wake up next to him.
"Come on then," he said softly.
They made their way toward the bedroom, Lana's hand still firmly clasped in his. The events of the day had changed so much between them, deepened something that had already been growing. The cheerleaders' manipulation, her acceptance of it all, it felt like they'd crossed some invisible threshold.
As they reached the bedroom doorway, Lana turned to look at him. "Tyson?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for telling me. About your abilities, about all of it. And for being honest, patient, and always being there for me." Her voice was quiet but steady. "I know it wasn't easy."
He brought their joined hands up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.
The following morning, Tyson woke to soft morning light filtering through the bedroom curtains, and the first thing he saw was Lana curled against his side. She wore only one of his t-shirts and underwear, her dark hair spilled across the pillow, and he couldn't help but admire how beautiful she looked in the gentle morning glow. The shirt had ridden up slightly during the night, revealing the smooth curve of her hip.
Lana's eyes fluttered open. A sleepy smile curved her lips as she caught him watching her. "Good morning to you, too," she said, her voice husky with sleep. She noticed his appreciative gaze and stretched languidly, the movement causing his shirt to shift higher. "Relax, Romeo. I can practically hear your thoughts."
Tyson grinned, not bothering to look away. " Pretty sure that wasn't part of the powers I gave you. But can you blame me?"
She laughed softly and settled back against him, her head finding its place on his chest. They lay there for a few peaceful minutes, neither wanting to break the comfortable intimacy of the moment.
"So," Tyson said eventually, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her arm, "what do you want to do today?"
Lana tilted her head to look at him. "Don't you have a football game?"
"Assuming everything went well with the team and cheerleaders," he replied, though his tone suggested he wasn't entirely confident about that assumption.
Lana pushed herself up and padded across the room toward his closet, apparently looking for something to wear. She reached up to a high shelf and pulled down a medium-sized box.
"Oh yeah," Tyson said, sitting up in bed. "That's the package you had delivered here."
Lana carried the box back to the bed, settling cross-legged beside him. Her expression had grown more serious. "I spent my savings on it," she said quietly, carefully opening the cardboard. "It belonged to Countess Isabella. The same one Dean mentioned."
Tyson watched as she lifted out an old, leather-bound book. The cover was worn with age, and strange symbols were etched into the dark leather. Even from where he sat, he could feel something unsettling about the tome.
"Lana, what is this about?" he asked, though he had a sinking feeling he already knew.
Instead of answering directly, Lana opened the book to a specific page. The symbol on the page was unmistakable. She turned so he could see it clearly, then without warning, her form began to shift. Her features rearranged themselves, her hair lightened, and within moments, Tina Greer sat on his bed instead of Lana.
"The symbol matches the tattoo on my back," she said in Tina's voice, though her mannerisms remained purely Lana's.
She lifted the back of his t-shirt, revealing the dark mark etched between her shoulder blades. The tattoo was still there, unchanged despite the complete physical transformation from the power.
Lana shifted back to her normal form, the change rippling across her features like water. "I want to visit Abigail Fine's mom today."
Tyson blinked, trying to follow the shift in topics. "The mascot girl?"
"Her mom is a plastic surgeon," Lana explained, closing the book and setting it aside. "I thought maybe..."
"Oh." Tyson studied her face, seeing the hope and desperation she was trying to hide. "Are you sure? I mean, if superpowered shapeshifting doesn't remove the tattoo, do you think some needles or lasers will?"
Lana's shoulders sagged slightly. "It's worth a try."
Tyson could tell she was more than a little freaked out. The tattoo seemed to bother her as much or more than any of his weird abilities had. There was something about the mark that clearly disturbed her on a deep level, and seeing her distress made his chest tighten.
He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. "Hey, look at me." When she met his eyes, he could see the fear she was trying to suppress. The confident, composed Lana from last night had been replaced by someone genuinely scared. "We'll figure this out," he said firmly. "Whatever this tattoo is, whatever it means, we'll deal with it together. And if Dr. Fine can help, then we'll try that route first."
"Dr. Fine?" Lana asked.
"Abigail's mom. That's her name, right? Dr. Fine?" Tyson squeezed her hand. "Look, I don't know much about tattoo removal, but I know that mark isn't normal. The fact that it survived your shapeshifting proves that. But that doesn't mean we're out of options."
Lana nodded, though he could see she wasn't entirely convinced. "I just... I need to try something. Anything. Having this thing on my back, not knowing what it means or why it's there, it's driving me crazy."
"Then we'll go together," Tyson said simply. "I'm not letting you deal with this alone. Besides," he added, trying to lighten the mood slightly, "if we're going to be official, I should probably escort you around town, right?"
That earned him a small smile. "I don't know about that." Lana leaned against him, and he wrapped his arms around her.
"Alright," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "We'll go together."
— Meteor Freak —
Tyson and Lana walked down Main Street, the sounds of the departing crowd from the football game still echoed faintly behind them, car doors slamming and engines starting as families headed home.
"Another week, another win," Lana said, adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder.
Tyson nodded, though his expression was more subdued than she'd expected after a victory. "Everything went well. Except for Brett."
Lana glanced at him, noting the tension in his voice. "What happened to Brett?"
"Apparently, he lost his mind." Tyson kicked at a loose piece of gravel on the sidewalk. "He's in Smallville Medical Center, seeing things. It started not long after we left practice yesterday. It doesn't seem to be related to the Gatorade. He drank it, but no one else had problems, and it should've been out of his system by now."
Lana frowned. "Are you going to try healing him?"
Tyson was quiet for a moment, clearly wrestling with the decision. "Brett's an asshole. But maybe. I don't know if he's a big enough ass that he deserved losing his mind."
"That's so strange," Lana said, her brow furrowing as she thought back to the previous day. "I saw him with Abigail before I snuck into your house."
Tyson stopped walking abruptly, his feet planted on the sidewalk. "Uh oh."
Lana just looked at him, waiting for an explanation.
"Abigail is a meteor freak," Tyson said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "She has an aura, just like us. She seemed nice when I talked to her. I thought she just got lucky and ended up with a power that made her pretty."
The implications hit Lana immediately. "You think she did something to Brett?"
"People don't just lose their minds randomly, right? It could be something like Jodi had, a power that she couldn't really control. But that doesn't make it any less dangerous." Tyson resumed walking, but his pace was more deliberate now, his attention clearly focused on this new development. "If it's not a side effect of the meteor rock-laced Gatorade, then she's the next most likely cause. We should be careful if we're going to see her mom. You sure you want to still do this?"
Lana didn't hesitate. "Yes. But we'll be ready."
They continued walking, the cheerful afternoon atmosphere of post-game celebration felt increasingly distant.
"What kind of power do you think she has?" Lana asked as they turned onto Elm Street.
"Dunno," Tyson replied. "The aura tells me she's got abilities, but not what they are specifically." He glanced at her. "Though if Brett's condition is any indication, it might be something mental. Hallucinations, maybe."
"Great. So we're walking into the office of someone whose daughter might be able to mess with people's heads."
"Pretty much. But we've dealt with meteor freaks before. And if Abigail is there, assuming she did something to Brett, she might not even realize we know about her."
They passed the small park where children were playing on the swings, their laughter a stark contrast to the serious conversation. A few parents waved at them, recognizing Tyson from the football team. He waved back, maintaining his public persona even as they discussed potentially dangerous supernatural encounters.
"Do you think her mom knows?" Lana asked.
"Hard to say. Some parents are completely oblivious. Others know when things are wrong with their kids, but try to pretend it's not happening. And some actively help cover it up."
Lana thought about her own situation with the tattoo, how she'd been hiding her shapeshifting abilities from Nell. "I can understand wanting to protect your child, even if they have dangerous abilities."
"Yeah, but there's a difference between protection and enabling," Tyson said. "If she was defending herself or couldn't control her ability, it's one thing. But if Abigail is using her powers to intentionally hurt people, that crosses a line."
They turned onto Medical Plaza Drive. The area had a quaint, professional atmosphere where several small medical offices were housed.
"There," Lana said, pointing to a tastefully renovated blue house with a small sign reading "Dr. Sarah Fine, Plastic Surgery." The building looked perfectly normal, with well-maintained landscaping and large windows that let in plenty of natural light.
As they approached the front entrance, Tyson caught Lana's arm gently. "We're here about your tattoo removal. We stick to that story unless something forces our hand."
Lana nodded, though she could feel her heart rate increasing. The combination of hoping for a solution to her tattoo problem and the potential danger from Abigail made for a tense mixture of emotions.
"And if things go sideways?" she asked quietly.
"Then we calm things with my pheromones, or failing that, we get out," Tyson said simply. "Your safety is more important than getting answers about the tattoo. And you haven't had any practice with your power yet. I'd prefer you not having to learn midfight."
They reached the front door, which was painted a welcoming sage green with brass hardware. A small placard listed office hours and requested that patients check in at the reception desk. Everything about the place screamed legitimate medical practice, not the lair of someone harboring a dangerous meteor freak.
Lana took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever they might encounter inside. Tyson reached for the door handle, pausing to give her one last questioning look. When she nodded her readiness, he pulled the door open.
They stepped into a reception area that felt more like a cozy living room than a medical office. The door chimed softly as they entered, a gentle melodic sound that seemed to hang in the air for a moment longer than expected. Comfortable chairs in muted blues and grays were arranged around a glass coffee table stacked with current magazines, and the walls displayed tasteful artwork that managed to be both calming and professional.
But there was no one present; no secretary.
Lana stepped up to the reception desk, looking for a bell or some way to announce their presence. The desktop was immaculate, with only a small appointment book, a pen holder, and a single orchid in a ceramic pot.
Tyson settled into one of the chairs. After a moment, the sound of heels clicking on tile came from beyond the reception area, and a door opened. A pretty older woman stepped through, and it was immediately obvious she'd had work done. Her face had that slightly too-smooth quality of someone who'd undergone multiple procedures, though the work was skillfully executed. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, and she wore a crisp white coat over an elegant blouse.
"Hello there," she said warmly, extending a manicured hand. "I'm Dr. Fine. I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I sent my receptionist home early today."
She shook both their hands. Her smile seemed genuine, though Tyson noticed as she assessed them.
"How can I help you today?" Dr. Fine asked.
Lana glanced at Tyson before responding. "I was hoping to get a tattoo removed. I know it's short notice, but I was wondering if you might have time to take a look at it."
"A tattoo removal? That's certainly something I can help with. The process has come a long way in recent years." She checked her watch. "Actually, I'm free right now if you'd like me to take a look. It would help me give you a better idea of what we're dealing with and what options might be available."
Lana looked at Tyson, uncertainly. The prospect of finally getting answers about the tattoo was appealing, but something about the empty office and Dr. Fine's immediate availability felt slightly off.
Dr. Fine seemed to notice her hesitation. "It'll be okay, sweetie," she said, her voice taking on a more maternal tone. "I just need to examine the area to determine the best course of treatment. Nothing invasive today, just a consultation."
"I'll come in with you," Tyson said, standing from his chair. He kept his voice casual, but Lana could hear the underlying protectiveness in his tone.
"No problem at all," Dr. Fine replied smoothly. "Many patients prefer to have support during consultations. Right this way."
She led them through the door she'd emerged from, down a short hallway lined with framed certificates and before-and-after photos of various procedures. The images were tastefully displayed, showing the kind of dramatic transformations that plastic surgery could achieve.
Dr. Fine opened another door and gestured them into what was clearly an examination room, though it seemed to double as a surgery suite. The space was larger than a typical doctor's office, with medical equipment arranged around the perimeter. The air carried the sharp, clean scent of medical-grade disinfectant.
"Please, have a seat on the examination table," Dr. Fine said to Lana, indicating a padded table covered with fresh paper. "Just relax, and we'll take a look at what we're working with."
Lana perched on the edge of the table, her hands gripping the sides slightly. The paper crinkled softly beneath her as she settled into position. Tyson remained standing nearby.
The room's medical equipment was impressive and clearly expensive. Monitors and diagnostic machines lined one wall, their screens dark but ready for use. Surgical instruments were arranged in precise rows on wheeled carts. But it was what hung from the ceiling that made both Tyson and Lana pause. Suspended from a complex system of cables and pulleys was a large, translucent plastic mold shaped like a human body. The form was roughly life-sized, designed to accommodate an adult, and it hung from the ceiling in the center of the room. The plastic was clear enough to see through but thick enough to suggest it was designed to hold a person. Strange tubes and wires connected to various points on the mold, leading to machines that hummed quietly in the background.
The body-shaped container created an unsettling presence that dominated the room. Its purpose was unclear, but it certainly wasn't standard equipment for tattoo removal or typical plastic surgery procedures.
Dr. Fine seemed to notice their attention on the unusual apparatus. "Don't mind that," she said with a dismissive wave. "It's for a specialized treatment I'm developing. Revolutionary work." She clasped her hands together. "Now then, where exactly is this tattoo located?"
"It's on my back."
"Perfect. If you could lie face down on the table, that would be ideal for examination." Dr. Fine moved to wash her hands at a small sink in the corner.
Lana positioned herself on the examination table, the paper crinkling beneath her as she settled onto her stomach.
"I'll just need to lift your shirt enough to see the area," Dr. Fine said, returning with latex gloves snapped into place. "Nothing more than necessary." she carefully lifted the back of Lana's shirt, exposing the dark symbol. "Fascinating," Dr. Fine murmured, leaning closer to examine the mark. Her fingers traced the air just above the tattoo, not quite touching but following its contours. She reached for a magnifying glass from a nearby tray. "This is unlike anything I've seen before."
Lana tried to crane her neck to see what the doctor was looking at, but the angle made it impossible. "Is that good or bad?"
"I need to test something," Dr. Fine said, setting down the magnifying glass and reaching for a small surgical blade. "I'm going to take a tiny skin sample. You'll feel a small scrape, nothing more."
Lana grimaced slightly as she felt the sharp edge remove a small portion of skin from the edge of the tattoo. The sensation was more startling than painful, like a paper cut.
"There we go," Dr. Fine said, transferring the sample to a small glass dish. She walked to the counter. "You're not the first person to walk through that door with tattoo remorse. But you're the first one to do it without ink."
Confused, Lana pushed herself up to a sitting position, pulling her shirt back down. "What?"
Dr. Fine held the dish up to the light, examining the skin sample with obvious interest. "Whatever this pigment is, it's almost as though the symbol were branded underneath your skin. Someone wanted to leave a mark you wouldn't easily forget."
Lana knew the tattoo was unusual, but hearing it confirmed in such clinical terms made the reality more unsettling. "But you can still remove it, right?"
Dr. Fine set the dish down and turned back to face her, removing her gloves. "Well, I'll have to send this tissue sample up to the lab, but I am guessing removal won't be possible without a complete skin graft."
Lana's shoulders sagged as she absorbed this information. The hope she'd been carrying since deciding to visit Dr. Fine began to crumble. A skin graft sounded invasive and painful, with no guarantee of success.
Tyson spoke up from his position by the door. "A skin graft? Does it have to be Lana's skin? Can it be anyone's skin?"
Dr. Fine looked at him with renewed interest, as if she hadn't fully noticed him before. "Theoretically, yes. Skin grafts can use donor tissue, though there are compatibility issues to consider. The body's immune system tends to reject foreign tissue unless there's a very close genetic match." She paused, studying both of them with calculating eyes. "Are you volunteering?"
"If it would help," Tyson said simply.
"You should consider that your skin tones are very different. It would be highly noticeable. But we'll see," Dr. Fine continued, walking back toward Lana, who remained sitting on the examination table. "The lab results will tell us more about what we're dealing with."
As she approached, Dr. Fine's expression shifted slightly. "You go to school with my daughter, don't you? I never forget a face. Especially a perfect one like yours."
Without warning, Dr. Fine reached out and touched Lana's face, her fingers tracing along her cheekbone with an intensity that made Lana deeply uncomfortable. The touch was clinical yet invasive, as if she were examining a particularly interesting specimen. Tyson narrowed his eyes. Up to this point, Dr. Fine had been professional, and the consultation had seemed normal.
"It must get you anything you want, hmm?" Dr. Fine murmured, her voice taking on an almost envious quality.
Lana pulled back slightly from the unwelcome contact, her body language clearly indicating her discomfort. "I don't really think about it that way."
The moment was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Abigail Fine entered the room, looking flustered and slightly out of breath. Her outfit was wrinkled, and her hair showed signs of hasty arrangement. She stopped abruptly when she saw Lana and Tyson, her eyes widening with what looked like genuine surprise.
"Mom, I thought you were canceling your patients."
Lana smiled. "Abby. I heard about Brett ending up in the hospital. I saw you two in the hall. Are you doing okay?" The question was posed with apparent concern, but there was something probing in her tone, as if she were fishing for information.
Abigail's response was immediate and defensive. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The tension in the room shifted palpably. Abigail looked intensely at her mother, and Lana could sense the unspoken communication passing between them. Dr. Fine's expression had hardened slightly, losing some of its earlier warmth.
Tyson spoke up. "I know he was awful to you when you were the mascot. If he did anything to you, he deserved what happened." He was clearly trying to leave the door open for self-defense while gauging Abigail's response.
Abigail's eyes darted between Tyson and her mother, her face cycling through several emotions before crumpling, the carefully maintained facade dissolving completely. Her hands trembled as she wrapped her arms around herself, looking suddenly much younger than her seventeen years.
"I didn't mean for it to happen," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I swear I didn't know."
Dr. Fine moved protectively toward her daughter, but Abigail stepped back, shaking her head violently.
"No, Mom. They need to know. Brett was horrible to me when I was the mascot. He would corner me after games, call me names, and push me around when no one was looking. He made my life miserable. And it all stopped when Tyson broke his nose." Tears began streaming down her cheeks as she looked directly at Lana and Tyson. "I can't thank you enough for that."
Lana felt a pang of sympathy despite the circumstances.
"Yesterday after practice, he found me alone. He didn't start his usual routine. Instead, he had this weird look in his eyes, like he was seeing me for the first time." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, smearing her makeup. "He said I was beautiful. That he'd been wrong about me. And he wanted me... I thought maybe he actually meant it, that maybe someone finally saw past the surface."
Dr. Fine's expression had grown increasingly concerned as her daughter spoke. "Abby, you don't have to tell them everything."
"Yes, I do!" Abigail snapped, turning to face her mother with surprising vehemence. "I can't pretend everything is normal when it's not!"
She turned back to Lana and Tyson, her composure completely shattered. "The moment our lips touched, something happened. I could feel this energy flowing out of me. Brett's eyes went wide, and he started shaking. Then he just... broke."
"What do you mean, broke?" Tyson asked.
"He started screaming about spiders crawling all over him, clawing at his skin until he was bleeding. He was seeing things that weren't there, completely terrified of everything around him. I tried to help him, to calm him down, but he looked at me like I was some kind of monster."
Abigail's voice dropped. "He kept saying 'make it stop' over and over again. But I didn't know how. I didn't even know I had done anything to him."
Lana found herself believing Abigail's account. The raw emotion in her voice, the genuine distress and confusion, it didn't seem like an act.
"How long have you known about your abilities?" Tyson asked gently.
"I didn't know. Not until yesterday. I mean, it was my first kiss."
Dr. Fine stepped forward, her maternal instincts overriding her earlier caution. "Abby's been through enough. She's told you what happened. It was an accident."
"Abigail, this isn't your fault. But I have to ask. Have you been exposed to meteor rocks recently?"
Dr. Fine's eyes narrowed at Tyson's question. "My revolutionary technique uses meteor rocks as part of the procedure," she said slowly, her voice taking on a sharper edge. "But how could you know that?"
Lana felt her stomach tighten as the pieces began falling into place. The strange body-shaped container suspended from the ceiling, the advanced equipment, and Abigail's abilities manifesting with her change in appearance. It was all connected to meteor rocks.
Tyson answered, "Meteor rocks have unpredictable side effects when people are exposed to them under certain circumstances or in mass quantities."
"How could you know something like that? There's no literature related to meteor rocks and human exposure. I've searched extensively."
Tyson hesitated, searching for an explanation. "Uh, well..." Then he remembered. "Dr. Hamilton. He's done years' worth of research, but he doesn't publish. Though I think he's working privately for Lex Luthor." He recalled his visit to Hamilton's lab, the geologist's obvious expertise with meteorite samples, and Lex's pitch, as if it were a recruitment meeting. Tyson wasn't certain about the exact nature of their relationship, but he didn't doubt Lex's money would talk loudly enough that Hamilton would listen.
"He's not a medical doctor," Dr. Fine said dismissively.
"But he's a geologist," Tyson countered. "And he's been studying meteor rocks longer than anyone in Smallville."
Dr. Fine's expression remained skeptical, but Tyson could see her filing away the information about Hamilton and Lex. He glanced at Abigail, who was still trembling slightly, her mascara smeared. She looked like any other scared teenager who'd accidentally hurt someone, not a malicious meteor freak.
The sight of her distress made his decision easier. "Dr. Fine, can you keep doctor-patient confidentiality?"
She straightened slightly. "Of course."
Tyson took a deep breath. "I know because—"
"Tyson, are you sure?" Lana interrupted.
He gestured toward Abigail, whose troubled expression and obvious remorse spoke volumes about her character. When he continued, Lana didn't interrupt again, though he could feel her tension.
"I know because I was exposed to the meteor rocks, and it changed me."
Abigail's head snapped up, her tear-stained face showing the first spark of hope she'd displayed since entering the room. Dr. Fine's clinical mask slipped entirely, replaced by naked fascination.
"Changed you how?" she asked, leaning forward with obvious interest.
Instead of answering directly, Tyson reached for the scalpel she'd used earlier to scrape Lana's skin. "A demonstration, if you don't mind." He turned to Lana. "Can I have your hand?"
She didn't hesitate to offer her hand, realizing what Tyson had in mind. He pressed the scalpel to her skin with careful precision, drawing a clean line across her palm. Blood welled immediately from the laceration, bright red against her pale skin. The cut was shallow but unmistakably real, and Lana winced slightly at the sharp sting.
"Doctor, come take a look," Tyson said calmly.
Dr. Fine approached to examine the fresh wound. The laceration was approximately two inches long and bleeding steadily. She could see the depth of the cut, the clean edges where the scalpel had parted the skin. Before she could ask a question or reach for gauze, Tyson's hands began to glow with a soft golden light. She watched in stunned silence as the laceration began to close before her eyes. The bleeding stopped first, then the edges of the wound drew together as if guided by invisible threads. New skin formed seamlessly, pink and healthy, until there was no trace of the injury. Tyson wiped away the blood with a clean gauze from the examination table, revealing smooth, unblemished skin where moments before there had been an open wound.
"Incredible," Dr. Fine breathed. She reached for Lana's hand, examining the area where the cut had been. Her fingers traced the spot repeatedly, searching for any sign of scarring or irregularity. "There's no evidence it ever happened. The cellular regeneration is perfect."
Abigail stared at Tyson with wide eyes, her earlier despair replaced by amazement. "You can heal people?"
"The meteor rocks affect everyone differently. Some people get enhanced strength, others can control elements like fire or electricity. And some can affect other people's mental states," he looked meaningfully at Abigail. "I have a theory. The method of exposure and your state when exposed can dictate how the changes manifest. One man I encountered had a short temper, and he was exposed in a sauna. He gained the ability to create fire. I know it's a small sample size, but look at you and, forgive me, I don't know you well, but I'm trying to piece this together. You were picked on and had low self-esteem tied to your looks. Even further, your looks made you fear the harassment you'd face. Then you undergo a procedure involving meteor rocks that makes you beautiful, but the side-effect is that it invokes fear in the guy you kissed."
"That actually makes sense in a way," Lana said.
Dr. Fine's mind was clearly racing. "The applications for medical science would be revolutionary—"
"It's not that simple," Tyson said, his tone carrying a note of warning. "As you can see. A majority of the time, these abilities come with costs. And they're not always controllable. ButI can heal you," he said, looking directly at Abigail. "Take away the negative side effects."
Dr. Fine's protective instincts flared immediately. "Will her appearance change? Will she go back to looking how she did before?"
"Mom!" Abigail exclaimed, her voice sharp with hurt and disbelief.
Tyson held up his hands in a calming gesture. "No, she shouldn't. I helped another girl who had a power that was tied to her... eating disorder. She lost a lot of weight, but when I took away the power, she didn't gain the weight back. I imagine things would happen the same way with you." The fear that had been building behind Abigail's eyes began to ease. "But you need to stop with the meteor rock experimentation. It's a dead end."
Dr. Fine's jaw tightened defensively. "It seems like it worked out well for you."
"I'm the exception." Tyson gestured to himself, then around at the sophisticated medical setup, the body-shaped container, the evidence of months of research. "Doc, I've met maybe a half-dozen people who got powers from the rocks. Most went crazy, genuinely psychotic, completely disconnected from reality. The others got side effects like what happened to Abby, abilities that looked like gifts but came with costs nobody could live with long-term. Nobody walks away clean except me, and I still don't know why I'm different."
Lana stepped forward, her voice quieter but carrying weight. "One guy who got powers from these things wanted to—" She broke off, and Tyson saw her hand move unconsciously to her throat, like she could still feel Greg Arkin's webbing on her skin. She took a breath and continued, "They don't just get abilities. They get obsessions. Dangerous ones. One tried to make me his mate, abducted me, and kept me cocooned in webbing in a tree house in the woods. Another decided she wanted to be me. Tried to kill me and take my place." Her eyes met Dr. Fine's. "They seemed fine at first. Normal. Then the powers twisted something inside them, and people got hurt."
"It's a dead end, Doc," Tyson said. "Literally."
Dr. Fine remained silent for a long moment, her gaze moving between her daughter's hopeful face and the strange body-shaped container suspended from the ceiling.
Tyson continued, his voice gentler now. "Look, I don't think you're a bad person, or a bad doctor. That's why I showed you what I can do. It seems to me that you just want your daughter to be happy and healthy. And that's what I'm trying to help you with." He gestured around the sophisticated medical setup. "I'm sure it's not about the money. As a plastic surgeon, you must make plenty. And unless you really just want to be famous, or rather infamous, there's nothing to gain from experimenting with the meteor rocks."
Dr. Fine's professional facade cracked, revealing the concerned mother underneath. Her eyes lingered on Abigail, taking in her daughter's tear-stained cheeks and the way she held herself; beautiful now, but fragile from yesterday's traumatic experience.
"The research was supposed to help people," Dr. Fine said quietly. "Revolutionary cosmetic procedures that could give people confidence, help them feel better about themselves. I thought if I could understand how the meteor rocks affected cellular structure—"
"But at what cost?" Tyson asked. "Your daughter accidentally put someone in the hospital. What if the next person you treat develops the same thin, or something worse? What if they hurt someone intentionally?"
Abigail spoke up, "Mom, I don't want anyone else to go through what I did yesterday. The look in Brett's eyes when he was screaming..." She shuddered. "I never want to see that again."
Dr. Fine studied her daughter's face, seeing the genuine distress there. "Okay. If you can help Abby, I'll end my research." She looked around the room one more time, as if saying goodbye to months of work. "I just wanted her to be happy."
Abigail moved toward her mother, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "I know, Mom. But this isn't the way."
Tyson nodded, understanding the difficulty of Dr. Fine's decision. "Thank you. I know that wasn't easy."
"What do you need from me for the procedure?"
"Nothing," Tyson said, though his expression grew thoughtful. "We probably shouldn't do it here, though. The last time I did this, it kinda ruined the area. Abby will be fine, mind you. It's just the last time I removed a power into the environment it was kinda violent."
That extraction had shattered every window within thirty feet and left a blast pattern that the police were probably still investigating. Removing powers wasn't clean or controlled when he expelled them into the environment rather than absorbing them himself, the foreign energy fought against being forced out, and the discharge could be destructive.
"We should move outside, maybe to an empty field," he continued. "It's Kansas. This place is full of them. Somewhere, nothing can break, and nobody can get hurt by the backlash."
"Whatever you think is best."
The group gathered their things and made their way outside. Dr. Fine locked up her practice, her movements carrying the weight of someone closing a chapter of their life. Two streets over, they found exactly what Tyson had described, an empty field bordered by a line of trees, the kind of open space that dotted the Kansas landscape like punctuation marks. The grass was still green despite the approaching autumn, though patches of brown hinted at the season's change. A gentle breeze rustled through the nearby trees, carrying the earthy scent of soil and the distant smell of harvested corn from neighboring farms.
Tyson positioned himself in the center of the field with Abigail while Dr. Fine and Lana stood several dozen feet away, close enough to observe but far enough to avoid whatever violent expulsion Tyson had warned them about.
"Relax," he said, taking Abigail's hand. Her palm was slightly damp with nervous perspiration. "It'll be okay."
Abigail nodded, though her breathing remained shallow. "Will it hurt?"
"I'll use as gentle a current as I can to not cause you pain," he assured her.
Tyson flipped open his locket, revealing the meteor rock nestled inside. He wrapped his fingers around it. Electricity began to flow through the meteor rock and into Abigail. She tensed initially, expecting pain, but Tyson's current was carefully modulated, more like a mild static charge than the violent jolt she'd feared. The energy traveled through their joined hands, and Tyson began his search for her power. It didn't take long to find. The ability felt like an ugly thing lurking within her, oily and wrong in a way that made Tyson's stomach turn. The power recoiled from his energy like it was afraid, trying to burrow deeper into Abigail's system to hide from his probing touch.
Tyson struggled to wrap his power around the foreign ability. This one seemed almost alive in its resistance. It twisted and writhed against his efforts to contain it, slippery as mercury and twice as toxic-feeling.
Instead of pulling it into himself like he'd done when taking powers permanently, Tyson tried to use himself only as a conduit to eject the ability entirely. The process was more difficult than he'd anticipated. The power felt fundamentally wrong as it passed through him, a sensation like swallowing something rotten that fought against being vomited.
Just as he'd done with Clark when taking his power back from Eric, Tyson refused to allow the foreign power to linger within his system. He pushed it through himself like forcing poison through a filter, maintaining the flow despite the nauseating sensation. The power had a taste, bitter and chemical, like battery acid at the back of his throat. Gradually, he felt it loosening its grip on Abigail, like prying a leech off skin. The resistance weakened as he pulled harder, the foreign power's hold on her biological systems breaking down node by node. With a final surge of effort, his muscles tensing, teeth gritting, every ounce of concentration focused on the expulsion, he forced it out.
The ugly power erupted from Tyson in a visible burst of sickly green energy that writhed in the air like smoke given malevolent life. The ability twisted and coiled, seeming to resist dissipating, before gradually thinning and evaporating into the atmosphere. As it faded, the green energy left behind an acrid smell, sharp and unpleasant. The grass beneath their feet withered in a perfect circle about six feet in diameter, turning brown and brittle as if flash-dried by intense heat. Small insects that had been buzzing nearby fell silent and still, dropping from the air like tiny stones. Even the distant sound of birds seemed muted for several moments, as if nature itself was recoiling from what had just been expelled.
Tyson released Abigail's hand and sat down heavily, his legs suddenly unsteady. The process had drained him more than he'd expected, leaving him feeling hollow and slightly nauseous.
Dr. Fine and Lana approached cautiously, stepping around the circle of dead grass.
Lana wrapped him in a hug, her arms strong and reassuring around his shoulders. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Tyson said, leaning into her embrace. "Just need a minute."
Abigail stood in the center of the withered circle, looking around in amazement. She flexed her fingers, rolled her shoulders, and took a deep breath. "I feel like a weight I didn't know was there... is just gone." Her voice carried a lightness that hadn't been present since she'd entered her mother's office.
Dr. Fine moved to her daughter, examining her face and body with a practiced eye. "You look good," she said, relieved. "It's over. I'm so happy for you."
Abigail's smile was radiant and genuine. She was still beautiful, but now it didn't come with a supernatural drawback.
Tyson stood after a minute, steadier now, and began heading back toward town with Lana.
They'd made it perhaps ten yards when Abigail called out.
"That's it?"
Tyson turned back, slightly confused. "Well, yeah. You're all clear." He paused, considering, and an uncomfortable thought surfaced, one he'd been suppressing.
Whitney.
The quarterback had spent nearly a month out of football from concussions. Tyson had healed others, people he barely knew, people who'd done nothing for him. But he'd let Whitney suffer, told himself it was justice for how the football player had treated him those first awful days in Smallville. Part of him still wanted Whitney to hurt. Still wanted the bastard to feel a fraction of what Tyson had felt, alone in a new school, in a new world. Targeted for no reason except that he was an easy mark who'd defended someone that Whitney had a gripe with over Lana. That vindictive part of him savored every day Whitney spent unable to play football. But another part, the part that had just saved Abigail from a power she'd accidentally gained, the part that had nearly died on the kitchen floor hours ago, recognized that holding onto the grudge was making him smaller. Pettier. Less than who he wanted to be.
Lana would probably want him to heal Whitney. She was too good to say it directly. But after yesterday, after being saved by Lana using a power he'd given her, after experiencing firsthand what it meant to need help desperately, how could he justify withholding help from someone else just because they'd been a dick to him?
It still felt wrong, like rewarding bad behavior. But maybe that was the point. Maybe being better than Whitney meant doing the right thing even when it felt unfair.
"Oh, uh, no, not exactly. I'm going to head to the hospital and heal Brett." He looked at Lana. "And Whitney too."
Lana's eyebrows rose in surprise. She knew what that meant, knew the history between them. Whitney had made his first day in Smallville a nightmare. Tyson had the ability to heal him, had possessed that ability, and had consciously chosen not to use it.
Until now.
"Really?" she asked.
"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the admission. "Look, he was an asshole to me. Still probably is an asshole in general. But I've been holding onto this grudge for weeks now, and after yesterday—" He gestured vaguely at his shoulder, where the bullet wound had been. "After nearly dying, it just seems petty. Like I'm wasting energy on revenge instead of moving forward." He met her eyes. "And you'd want me to do it anyway. You're too nice to say it, but I can tell."
Lana's expression softened. "I'm glad you're making that choice yourself."
"Don't make it sound noble. I'm mostly doing it so I can stop thinking about it." But he smiled slightly, acknowledging the growth even as he deflected from it. He raised his voice and waved toward Abigail and her mother. "See you around, Abigail. Stay out of trouble."
As they walked away, Lana glanced at him with something that might have been admiration. "That's big of you to heal Whitney."
Tyson grinned, feeling more like himself than he had since the shooting. The afternoon sunlight felt good on his face, though there was a chill in the air, reminding them that winter was coming. Lana's hand was warm in his, the normalcy of walking through Smallville streets together a balm after the violence and terror of the last few hours. He was alive. She was safe. Everything else felt manageable by comparison.
"I love it when you say I'm big, but you forgot the 'so'. It should go more like—" he shifted his voice higher, trying to mimic Lana's. "Tyson, you're so big—"
She slapped his arm, which actually hurt a little because of her enhanced strength from Tina's power, but the sound of her laugh, genuine and bright and relieved, was worth it. She was laughing. He'd made her laugh. After everything that had happened the past two days, that felt like its own kind of victory.
He laughed with her, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders, and let himself just enjoy the moment.
They'd survived another week, another Meteor Freak.
Later, he'd deal with Dean and the Colt and whatever other complications were waiting. But right now, walking through Smallville with Lana beside him, he could just be a teenager who'd made his girlfriend laugh.