Hope

17 - captive

Clark complied, lowering his head and allowing the feds to cuff him. He then straightened his posture and looked at agent Booth, who was just as tall as he. The men didn't say anything, they just took a moment to look at each other before Booth turned Clark around almost aggressively, leading him down to the office. This wasn't the first time Clark had to stay quiet and let a bunch of angry government officials cuff him and drag him to some interrogation room. At least then, he knew why they did it. Now, he didn't even know who called them, and why they were arresting him.

"May I ask what I'm charged with?" Clark mumbled.

"No." Booth snapped, tightening his grip on Clark's arm, thinking it would hurt the man, but Kent barely felt it. The gang of well dressed men dragged Kent out of his apartment, eyes in the lobby and on the street following the crowd as they made their way into what looked like a brand new  Tahoe, but probably wasn't. He was shoved in between two other agents, Clark's broad shoulders feeling rather uncomfortable being squished into the middle seat. The ride felt longer than it probably was, due to Clark's lack of comfort and personal space. Even the glares the agents gave him through their overrated Ray Ban's were space consuming to someone that's already squished. Finally, they reached, and Clark was escorted into a large building, that seemed to be the headquarters. He didn't take time to take in his surroundings, since he didn't have any. He was automatically pushed into another one of those interrogation rooms, only smaller, empty, colorless. Just sitting in the seat made his crystallized eyes feel jaded. Clark let the agent cuff him to the seat, waiting until he and Agent Booth were alone before he looked up at the clearly stressed out man standing opposite him, on the other side of the cheap table. Booth sat down, beads of sweat forming on his pink forehead. He sighed and looked at the buff man sitting across from him with a stern look.

"I know she came here."

   "I'm sorry?"

"Alex. Alex Parrish, the last time I saw her, she was moving here."

   "And what made you think I was harboring her?" Clark asked, clearly interested in what this man had to say.

"An anonymous tip. I know she's with you, and I know you're dangerous, so where is she?"

   "She's safe, and you don't know me."

"Clark Kent. 33 years old. Adopted. Raised with his adoptive parents on their farm as an only child until his father died, saving thousands of people and a dog. You knew the journalist, Lois Lane. Your fingerprints were not found in the site of her death, but Alex's were. Her blood was as well. I don't know where she is, but from the tip I was given, I know she's spent most of her time in this city with you, so where. Is. she."

Clark blinked, staring at the man. Admittedly, he felt certain that Booth was linked to Lex Luther, but he didn't want to say too much, too soon. In fact, he didn't say anything at all, much to Ryan's frustration.

"Who told you she was with me?"

"I'll ask the questions."

"Did he have long hair, dirty blonde?"

The lack of noise coming from the once screaming agent's mouth was enough to let Clark know that it was Luther, and that if he's trapped here, Luther definitely had voices near the farm, and Alex and his mother could be in danger.

"You need to let me go, something could be happening with Alex." Kent began his attempt to convince agent Booth.

"No. Tell me where she is."

"I can't. You have to trust me."

"Why would I do that?"

"I've kept her safe this whole time, without you, haven't I?"

"Yeah, considering the DNA in the blood from that murder scene, I wouldn't exactly say 'safe'."

"Agent Booth–"

"No!"

Trying to get through was difficult for Clark, and though he kept his calm demeanor, he couldn't help worrying that something was going to happen to the two most important women in his life. The room was silent after that no, Clark at a loss for words, and Ryan refusing to negotiate any further. He then grumbled something under his breath, brushing past the table and out of the room with a slam of the door.

Now, it was just Clark, cuffed and seated in the silence underneath the cheap light. He had the strength to rip through the cuffs with ease, but he chose not to, at least, for now. A few more minutes past, and Booth never returned. That's when he heard it, from miles away, his non-human senses could hear it.

The struggling. It was coming from the farm.