Misery, Woe, and Ice Cream

AU fanfic set after Man of Steel. What if someone else survived the epic battle that tore Metropolis apart and banished the alien ship to the Phantom Zone? What if she happens to be Zod's daughter, bred on a lifetime of lies and hatred toward the House of El? Will she find kinship with Lex Luthor? Or will her cold need for revenge survive in the warmth of Kal-El's goodness?

Disclaimer: I don't own Superman, any of the DC characters, or the setting, I'm just playing in their universe for the first time. Also, my Lex Luthor is modeled after Smallville's Lex in my head (played by Michael Rosenbaum), so a little less creepy and manic than Jesse Eisenberg's portrayal.

Author's Note: I've never read the comics, so apologies if there are any inconsistencies. I'm not aware of Zod having a daughter, but I thought it'd be fun to explore. We're going to see plenty of angst and hurt to begin with on pretty much all fronts, but some romance will develop as things progress. I'm going first person for Kyria's POV and third person for anyone else who heads a section. And for those of you who might think I'm cheating on Cap for writing this story, I have it under good authority it doesn't count if it's with an alien. ;)

Pain.

Pure agony contorted my figure into knots as I curled up into myself. Not pain of the body, which could be mastered, as Father had taught me. This was a deep misery of the soul. A pain which couldn't be assuaged with a gentle touch or soothing balm. Pain that if left alone could fester and rot until it consumed me, and there would finally be nothing left.

I welcomed that loss of myself, because I didn't know how to be me anymore. I didn't know how to go on in this foreign place. The promised land of rebirth that had become our gravesite. No more Krypton. No more Father. No more of my people. How fitting that there be no more Kyria as well.

All around me there was mayhem and death. I should've felt something at their woe. It should've given me some sense of satisfaction to hear their lamentations, but nothing penetrated the core of my suffering.

The loss of our ship was cataclysmic, dispatched to the Phantom Zone for an eternity of torment. I'd barely had the chance to try to regroup and find Father when his life signs went silent on my tracker. That could only mean one thing – Kal-El had murdered him in cold blood.

When the wall beside me came tumbling down, I hadn't even tried to move. I think I might've screamed, but it was lost in the surrounding chaos. Dimly I was aware that my legs were likely broken, trapped beneath a pile of concrete and steel. Maybe I would never walk again? It didn't seem to matter. I only had enough air for another few hours anyway, soon it would all be over.

The eerie yellow sun began to set, the activity around me lessening as the humans clung to each other in triumph and loss. I lay there, my spirit as broken as my body, lost to the shadows as my heart wept tears I'd long ago lost the ability to conjure.

"Don't move." The order came in English, from soldiers dressed head to toe in black, combat masks obscuring their faces even in the darkness. He held one of their projectile weapons aimed at my head.

I knew English. Father had made me study it, the better to know my enemy, he'd said. I was also conversant in a smattering of other Earth tongues, but English was Kal-El's preferred language, so I'd studied it most diligently. Still, I ignored them, turning my face away from their bright torches so I wouldn't have to read my death in their eyes.

"She's not exactly about to jump up and attack us, look at her," one of them muttered, fiddling with an electronic device. "She's one of them alright, these radiation readings are off the charts."

"Of course she is, she's wearing their gear," the first one replied.

"I'm just saying the intel was correct."

"Did you think it wouldn't be? He's never wrong."

"I know, but this is… you know… aliens. We were supposed to recover bits of smashed up tech and whatever samples we could find, but she's… I thought they were all sucked into that black hole thing?"

"Cut the chatter." A different voice chimed in, one that rang with authority, and I directed my gaze to him. He was dressed like the others, but with a gold insignia of rank on his collar. Would he be the one to end my suffering? "Ramirez, you and Wence get a hold of that girder, use the pole for leverage. Halder, be ready to pull her out when they lift."

They were going to extract me? Not kill me on sight?

"You want me to… to grab her, sir?"

"She's not gonna bite ya, Halder," Wence drawled. "She's got a mask on for chrissakes, she needs it to breathe."

"Yeah, but… what if she's…"

"What?"

Halder shrugged, making no move to approach me. "Contagious or something."

Ignorant fool. If we'd been able to weaponize a contagion, we'd have released it into Earth's atmosphere when we first arrived. Then we could have terraformed at our leisure. It was their atmosphere that posed the danger to us. Or just me, I reminded myself. There was no us anymore.

"God, Halder, you're afraid of alien cooties?" Ramirez sniggered with laughter, but the one in charge put a stop to it.

"You can go into full decon afterwards if it makes you feel any better, but be ready when I give the signal. Don't worry, I'll make sure she doesn't cause too much trouble," he replied, his weapon training on my face.

The soldiers set to business without further complaint. I made no move to stop them, not even when the one called Halder put his hands upon my person. Kill me now or kill me later, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

The load shifted, and pain lanced through me hot enough to cut through my haze of misery. A scream ripped from my throat, and then merciful darkness descended.

There was a muted beep of machines, rhythmic and soothing, the bed beneath me softer than any I'd tested in the infirmary or even my bunk. An odd antiseptic tinge in the air tickled my nose, but not enough to make me sneeze. A slight whirr and I felt a cool breeze brush against my skin.

My skin…

My eyes popped open as I tried to figure out why my suit no longer protected me from the elements. I wasn't outside at all, the cool breeze came from air vents above the bed, which was surrounded by primitive diagnostic equipment. My suit was missing, leaving me clad only in my undergarments, and my dark hair had come free of its plait and streamed over my shoulders. Thank Rao, my breather remained, snaking around my head and torso. Without the tech in my suit it was impossible to know how much time was left on the breather, but it couldn't be good. I'd only had a few hours left before passing out.

The lighting was dim save for a single lamp above my head. The room's sole window was completely opaque, confirming my suspicions that I was in a government holding cell rather than an infirmary, despite the medical equipment.

I felt no pain, but my legs were encased in metal cages, no doubt designed to support my broken bones. A transparent bag dripped liquid through a long, winding tube that disappeared into my arm under a mass of adhesive tape. My limbs felt heavy and sluggish, my tongue thick in my mouth, and my breather felt like it was two sizes too small. Meds. They'd pumped me full of meds to keep me docile. My fingers scrabbled at the tape, desperate to rip the offending tube from my arm.

"You don't want to do that." The voice cut through the room without echo, not particularly loud or sharp, but there was no mistaking the command in his tone. My head whipped around to find him sitting in the corner of the room, nearly obscured by shadows, his posture relaxed and without tension. I felt more than saw his intense scrutiny. "What's your name?"

I turned my attention back to the mass of adhesive over my arm. The more I picked at it, the harder it stuck to my skin, and the more pain it caused. I realized there was a thick needle inserted into my skin beneath the tape. What kind of barbaric torture was this? "You won't make me talk, if that's what your game is. I won't betray my people," I bit out, wrangling a bit more of the damnable tape free.

"No games," he replied, rising to join my bedside. "And I'm thinking your people have already been betrayed enough."

No games indeed. Did he think to sway me with a few empty words? My eyes narrowed at him to take a closer look. It was easy enough to recognize the cut of his suit was expensive, exquisitely tailored to fit his long, lean frame, and hints of gold winked at his wrist and cuffs. A faint smile curved a soft, almost feminine, mouth, eyes a curious mix of gray and green.

What set him apart from the other humans I'd studied wasn't the fact that his head was entirely free from hair or the light of intelligence behind his steely gaze, but the cloak of power that surrounded him despite the lack of weaponry. He didn't hold himself as if he'd been military trained, but there was authority there, nonetheless. Maybe he had nothing to fear from me in my current state, but I'd never encountered anyone so self-assured among my people apart from Father.

It made me nervous to stare into those eyes for too long, and I turned back to my arm, having nearly worked the tape free.

"It'll hurt," he insisted, head tilting to one side as if my discomfort could somehow affect him when I didn't remove my hand.

I ripped it out anyway, trying not to wince at the pain and failing miserably as I clapped my hand over the bleeding wound. The stain of embarrassment at showing weakness before the human fed my anger. "Your government has no right to keep me here. I am not subject to your laws."

He spread his hands wide. "I'm not with the government, and believe it or not, I'm here to help you."

"I need no human's help," I spat back at him, even as I realized how ridiculous that sounded, lying there with broken legs, strapped to the bed, completely at his mercy. Military trained or not, he could kill me in any of a dozen ways in my weakened state. Or simply walk away and leave me to starve and die without dealing a single blow.

Offering a gauze pad, a low chuckle escaped him as I refused it, and he set it down on the rolling tray beside me. "Ordinarily I'd agree with you. I think normally you're one tough lady. But accepting help isn't a sign of weakness. It's a sign of intelligence, to take advantage of the circumstances you find yourself presented with."

Damn his logic. If I refused him now I looked a fool, and the blood was already seeping from between my fingers. With a scowl, I swiped the gauze from the tray and pressed it to the wound, doing my best to ignore him as he set a fresh gauze pad and a piece of that infernal adhesive tape on the tray beside it.

"Good," he nodded. "I'm glad you're smart enough to be reasonable."

"Don't expect any thanks to my captor," I bit out, eyes darting to the single door. With both legs broken, it might've been a hundred yards away.

"Captor?" His brows rose in mild surprise. "My men didn't capture you, they rescued you. Freed you from a collapsed wall, as I heard it."

"Oh, I'm free to go then?" I scoffed, doubting it would be that simple.

"Be my guest," he replied with that infuriating little smile, standing back and gesturing to the door.

He'd underestimated my drive to be free and my stubborn resolve. I swapped out the bloodied gauze for new and tore off a piece of tape to secure it. Gritting my teeth against the anticipated pain, I swung my bracketed legs off the table with a lurch. Medication must've still been coursing through my system because I didn't immediately crumple in pain, but I was instantly covered in a sheen of sweat from the movement. Grabbing the rolling tray, I braced myself against it, intending to use it as a rolling crutch. At my first attempted step, my numbed legs failed me, sending me tumbling to the floor.

Only the man's swift reaction saved me from further injury. "Whoa… hey… you can't just…" he sputtered, his lean form deceptively strong as he gathered me into his arms.

I'd managed to damage his calm, obviously he hadn't expected me to be dumb enough to actually attempt escape in my condition. As much as it rankled to accept it, I let him help me back onto the bed, blinking back tears of helplessness as he arranged my useless legs with meticulous care.

His voice was surprisingly tender as he spoke. "Honey, we just got you put back together again. You keep doing that and you'll never heal right."

"Save your endearments," I replied, but there was less bite to my voice, my breathing ragged as I fought to recover from the exertion.

"I'd be happy to call you something else, but you still need to tell me your name."

I opened my mouth to tell him my rank and serial number only, but couldn't seem to catch my breath. My breather was failing, the air so thin I started to get light headed. Father had made us all take a few lungsful of Earth's atmosphere when we'd first arrived, the better to condition us. I think he had hopes of acclimating us for a full-scale invasion, but that plan was quickly jettisoned in favor of terraforming. I wasn't looking forward to the burning particulates, but what choice did I have?

Hitting the release on my breather, I sucked in a deep breath. Immediately, my lungs contracted painfully, and I convulsed in a series of wheezing coughs as my lungs rejected the alien air. Trying more shallow breaths, I concentrated on forcing the air in and out without losing it all to coughs, my eyes streaming with the effort to keep the poisoned air in.

"I can give you something that will help you go through the transition if you'll allow me to."

I'd almost forgotten he was still in the room, but there he stood with a syringe in hand. "And if I say no?" I rasped. I could hardly defend myself from him in my condition.

"Then I suspect it'll be a painful process from the footage I've seen. And once you start the transition, I doubt the needle will be able to penetrate your skin any longer." To my surprise, he set the syringe on the rolling tray, which he'd brought back to the bedside. For half a moment I considered grabbing for it to stab him with it, but what good would that do me? I'd still be helpless and weak.

"I don't need your human witch-doctoring."

"I'm only trying to help."

"I don't need your help!" I screamed, and then promptly retched all over the floor. My hand came away tinged with blood when I swiped at my mouth, and that sent a new jolt of fear through me. What if I didn't survive the acclimation to Earth's atmosphere? Was that why Father had opted not to share the planet with the humans? My vision swam, everything going blurry, and then so sharp it hurt. I cried out, closing them tight, even as my ears roared with the sound of blood rushing through my veins. What was happening to me?

"It's starting," he said, his voice tense with an undercurrent of excitement that made me open my eyes. "Last chance?" He held up the syringe, and I stared at him in growing horror as his bones showed through his skin. Was I hallucinating or losing my mind? "It'll help, I promise," he tried one last time, and I thrust out my arm.

"Do it."

The needle stuck on my skin, as if it were too dull to penetrate, and a pucker of worry appeared on his brow. "I was afraid this might happen. Deep breath now, this is gonna hurt." Before I could ask what he had in mind, he lifted the syringe high and plunged it deep into my arm with all of his might. The last thing I wanted to do was take a deep breath, so it knocked what little wind I had in me right out.

I could see the needle embedded in my flesh, see that he'd bypassed my veins and gone straight into the tendons, sending a jolt of pain all along my forearm. My first instinct was to pull the offending thing free, but the rational part of my mind told me I needed whatever was in the syringe to survive the transition. Gritting my teeth, I slowly pulled back on the syringe to position it at a vein. It grew easier when I concentrated, my enhanced vision working better than a medical drone to guide the needle into place.

"There, push it now," I gasped once it was lined up, and he slid the plunger home. Whatever was in the syringe burned as it slid into my veins.

And then the pain increased tenfold.

Fire raced along the top of my skin, my muscles cramping and releasing in random places as if by body were being probed by an unseen electrical current. A cacophony of sounds attacked me all at once, too dense to sort out the individual causes, to be replaced by a high-pitched ringing that obscured all else. My vision flickered between pinpoint focus to a blurred, red fog and back again, and my lungs felt like they were breathing through water. Whatever he'd given me had not helped ease me through the transition, if anything it had worsened it.

Lashing out at the syringe, I yanked it from my arm. "You said… it would… help…" I panted, barely able to get the words out through the haze of pain.

"It will," he replied, his voice somehow cutting through the din, deep and reassuring. "It's accelerating it so it'll go faster. I didn't say it would make it less painful."

Those were the last words I heard, or the last my brain could process as the havoc wreaking through my senses catapulted me into a fugue state. I have no idea how long it lasted. All I know is I gradually came back to myself, the sheets damp with sweat and my muscles sore, but blessedly free from pain. With a start, I realized the man sat slumped in a chair beside me, my hand wrapped tightly in his.

Weakly, I pulled my hand free, and he stirred. "Careful," he warned, his voice low and intimate. "You're much stronger now, but your body still needs to heal. And we're at least a couple of hours from the dawn."

I had no idea what that remark about the dawn meant, but it was hardly the most pressing of questions at the forefront of my mind. "Who are you?" My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, and he offered me a drink. Without even trying, I smelled the water inside, fresh and without taint.

"A friend."

"I don't need human friends." Despite my words, I accepted the drink, the water cool and soothing against my parched throat. I wanted to try and pace myself, but I drank greedily, needing to replace my lost fluids.

"You might want to rethink that." His annoying little smirk was back. "You're all alone here. My people did a thorough search of the wreckage, you're the only surviving Kryptonian left on the planet."

"There is one other," I replied, my voice stronger. Kal-El was still alive. I'd heard the humans cheering about it in the streets. Superman, they called him. Ridiculous.

"Superman isn't your friend," he said, surprising me that he'd read my thoughts. "But I can be. I want to help you."

"Why? Your people waged war on mine. Exterminated them."

"No, Superman waged war on them. I assume you've done your research on our planet? America is a nation of immigrants, we would've come to terms to co-exist with your people. We weren't given that chance thanks to Superman's god complex." His voice turned bitter, and I studied him more closely. Was the enemy of my enemy my friend? Or merely another enemy?

"Look, you got a raw deal," he said when I didn't reply. "I'm not trying to say you didn't, and nothing I say will change that. I'm not pretending I can even imagine what you're going through right now, but you're a smart girl. You have to learn to make the most out of the cards you've been dealt."

"Cards?" I stared at him blankly, not comprehending the unfamiliar word.

"You're here now, why not make the most of it?"

"Make the most of it?" I scoffed. Life as I'd known it had ceased to exist. "How?"

"Let me help you heal and grow stronger. Let me show you what the Earth has to offer. Let me share my resources with you, and when the time is right, I'll show you where Kal-El sleeps." The light of revenge came into his eyes, and that I understood.

"What is your name?" I asked, sitting higher in the bed. Already I felt stronger, and less like a drowned lumir.

"Lex. Lex Luthor."

"I am Kyria, daughter of Dru-Zod, and I accept your proposal."

Clark clung to Lois in desperate misery, the enormity of what he'd done leaving him little more than the shell of a man. Anyone could've defeated him in that state, and he wouldn't have been able to muster the slightest resistance. But Lois kept him safe in the shelter of her embrace as he openly wept, her fingers stroking through his hair, making little more than soothing sounds, but it helped.

Over and over he relived those final moments when he'd begged Zod to stop, to surrender. Why wouldn't he yield? Why did he force Clark to kill him? Or was that Zod's final revenge, knowing what it would cost Clark to snap the neck of his countryman?

Once the initial storm of emotions had subsided, Clark let go of Lois to swipe at his cheeks, stumbling to his feet with a mumbled apology. His "victory" over Zod left him feeling drained and heartsore, and very, very small.

"No, Clark… it's okay," Lois soothed, her hands smoothing over his arms as he pulled away, as if she wanted to keep him close.

"I have to go."

"Clark…"

Picking up her hands, he cut off the stem of her words with a single look. "I have to go. There are people out there that need me." He didn't deserve her comfort when there were so many still suffering, not when he might be able to help.

Lois nodded in understanding, giving his hands a final squeeze before letting him go and standing back. "Be careful," she said softly, worry etched deeply into her features.

All he could do was shake his head. "No one can hurt me. Not anymore. I saw to that." His eyes came to rest on Zod's body, and he swallowed back another wave of desolation as his gaze grew remote. "But I can hear them out there. There are still people trapped and hurt in the rubble. I have to go clean up my mess and try to save as many as I can. I should never have engaged Zod in such a populated area," he bit out in self-loathing.

"It's not your…" she started to protest, but he launched himself into flight before she could finish the sentence, tuning out the sound of her voice even though he could've easily picked up the rest of what she'd had to say from blocks away. He didn't deserve her kind words of absolution. All around him was death and destruction, and it was absolutely his fault.

A/N: Well, what do you guys think? Any interest in this story or should I hang up my cape and go back to something else? I know, this chapter is kind of a downer, but they're all in a pretty dark place right now. I promise, it won't always be like this. Lots of drama and angst, sure, but some light to balance the dark. I sort of see this ending up as a triangle with Lex, Kyria, and Clark, and sort of a triangle with Lois, Clark, and Kyria down the line as well.