Lucinda stared at Sean, her mind racing through possibilities that collapsed the moment they formed. Every plan ended the same way: bodies on the floor, frostbitten and broken. Lex. Nurses. Doctors. Anyone unlucky enough to still be breathing in this frozen tomb of a hospital.
She's certain there are people hiding in other rooms and she could only wish they're warm enough to stay alive until all of this is over.
There was no clever workaround. No loophole. No dramatic third option that didn't involve sacrifice—and, tragically, in this scenario, she was the sacrifice.
Truly the kind of heroine the Smallville directors would have killed to hire—if only real-life emergencies came with casting calls and stunt doubles.
She needed to do it. If Sean goes back to normal, she could save everyone. That was the theory, at least—and right now, theory was all she had. She clung to that thought like a life raft with a slow leak.
"So," Sean drawled, his grin sharp and boyish and deeply wrong, "what's it gonna be, Lucy?"
Her jaw tightened. "We are not close enough for you to call me that," Lucinda snapped, her voice cutting through the frozen air. She shot a glance at Lex sprawled on the floor, unmoving, pale against the white frost curling around him.
Her chest ached. The longer she resisted, the worse it got. The cold deepened, the walls groaned, and somewhere in the distance metal screamed as pipes cracked under pressure. So she moved.
Each step toward Sean felt like walking into her own execution. Her bare feet recoiled against the ice-slick floor, numbness biting instantly, climbing up her legs like a living thing.
If her vision—dream—whatever cosmic PowerPoint presentation she'd seen was accurate, then once Sean touched her, he'd be healed.
Right?
Sean's smile widened when she stopped in front of him. His skin had already taken back on a sickly blue hue, veins started to turn dark underneath, breath fogging heavily with each inhale. Just like canon. Just like the rulebook said. The heat he stole from the people in here would never last.
He must have killed more before he found her just to keep himself functional.
The thought made her stomach twist.
Lucinda swallowed hard and forced her arms open. "Well," she muttered bitterly, "go on. Absorb my body heat hanggang sa magsawa ka."
Sean laughed softly, delighted at her sudden language shift, and stepped closer. Slowly. Intentionally. Like he wanted her to feel every second of it.
Then his hands settled on her shoulders.
The cold hit instantly. Lucinda gasped as the warmth was ripped from her body, a violent, unnatural pull that made her teeth chatter. She could see it—steam peeling away from her skin, curling toward Sean's mouth as if drawn by gravity.
Pain flared where his hands touched her, sharp and invasive, then exploded outward into her chest.
Her vision blurred. Her knees threatened mutiny. She waited—desperately—for something magical. A glow. A pulse. That Blue Kryptonite shimmer from her chest, dramatic and helpful and very on-theme.
But nothing game. No glow. No cosmic fanfare. Just pain. Pure, brutal, heart-stopping pain.
Sean kept draining her until the blue faded from his skin, color returning like nothing had ever been wrong. When he finally pulled away, Lucinda's knees buckled. She hit the floor hard, the impact dull and distant, pain barely registering through the cold.
She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay conscious, and looked up at him. Sean stared at his hands in awe, flexing his fingers, laughing quietly to himself like a deranged human being that he is.
Using what little strength she had left, she dragged herself across the floor, every inch an argument with gravity and common sense. Lex was only a few steps away, but it felt like miles.
Her fingers finally brushed his hand and her breath hitched when she felt nothing but cold.
Panic surged as she leaned closer, eyes searching his chest, his mouth—then she saw it. The faintest puff of vapor escaping his lips. It was shallow and fragile but it was enough for now.
"Oh, thank God," she whispered, relief crashing over her so hard it nearly made her sob.
She forced herself upright and cradled his face between her hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks, tapping gently.
"L-Lex," she murmured, her voice trembling. "Lex, wake up."
She swallowed and managed a crooked smile through the pain. "If you let your bald head stay on this floor any longer," she added hoarsely, "you're really going to catch a cold."
Lex's eyes didn't even wobble. His breathing remained unsteady.
Lucinda gritted her teeth and looked back up at Sean, who was still very much occupied with his dramatic I'm totally healing routine.
Then something very crucial clicked.
The ice hadn't melted.
The frost still clung to every surface. Thick, unapologetic, glittering like it had every intention of staying. The air remained cold enough to qualify as actively hostile, the kind that punished lungs for the audacity of breathing.
Which meant only one thing.
Sean was still very much not cured.
Lucinda tipped her head back slightly and squeezed her eyes shut. For half a second, she seriously considered cursing every deity, cosmic force, and narrative architect who might be listening—because what the hell was this supposed to be?
Lex had looked her straight in the eye and told her she'd reversed the effects of Green Kryptonite on that man. Clark had gone pale when he realized her presence was interfering with his powers. Sean himself had said her warmth was different. And then there was the small, deeply inconvenient detail of her seeing Blue Kryptonite embedded in her own chest like some kind of prophetic warning label in her vision—dream whatever!
All signs pointed to miracle.
All outcomes pointed to failure.
She let out a sharp, humorless laugh and dragged a hand through her hair, wincing as the movement sent another wave of weakness through her body.
Lucinda scoffed, staring at the frost-lined walls as if daring them to argue back. "Well. Be damned."
Sean, meanwhile, was still basking in the afterglow of his temporary relief and Lucinda did not wait for the encore. She hooked her arms under Lex's shoulders and dragged.
She had been certain she had nothing left—no strength, no adrenaline, not even spite to run on. And yet her body moved anyway, scraping backward across the ice as she hauled a six-foot man down the hallway inch by agonizing inch. Her knees burned. Her arms screamed. Her lungs felt like they were inhaling knives.
She crawled, slipped, dragged again. She didn't look back.
Behind her, Sean's smile faltered. He stared down at his hands just as the blue crept back in—slow at first, then spreading fast, veins darkening beneath the skin. The cold hit him all at once, vicious and merciless, stealing his breath.
"N-No—no, no, no!" Sean gasped, clutching his arms to his chest as if he could physically keep the heat inside. But borrowed warmth was never meant to stay. It always left. It always betrayed him.
And Lucinda's warmth didn't even last half as long. Rage twisted his features when he spotted her—already farther away, Lex's body half-dragged, half-carried across the ice.
"YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO CURE ME!" Sean roared. The sound ripped through the hallway like a shockwave. The building groaned in protest. Ice cracked and surged outward in violent, creeping veins.
Lucinda gasped, panic flooding her system. Somehow, impossibly, she forced herself onto her feet, hooking Lex under one arm and dragging him the rest of the way across the hallway, muscles burning beyond reason.
She didn't stop until she slammed into the opposite wall. Even then, the ice followed, creeping like it had a mind of its own, inching closer to her and Lex with silent, relentless intent.
Lucinda pressed Lex closer to her, letting his head rest lightly against her chest. She tried to transfer what little warmth she could muster, wrapping him in her arms as if sheer willpower could stave off the cold. Her own body was slowly recovering, heat creeping back in weak, uneven waves, but it wasn't nearly enough to push back the relentless chill that wrapped the hallway like a living thing.
Her eyes darted to the thickening frost, the walls glinting with lethal perfection, and her thoughts began to spiral.
Yep. Definitely dying today. Maybe tomorrow too… if Lex died in my arms and I somehow survived.
Ohhh—she shivered as an image of Lionel wielding a scalpel and a driller flashed uninvited in her mind.
Nope! Not gonna happen thank you very much!
She bit her lip. C'mon, Lucinda. Use your futuristic brain!
What was different?
Lex, the meteorite-infected man, Sean… all of them exposed to the same green kryptonite. Why did their bodies react so differently?
Lex had gone bald, yes, but that was it. His immune system had been boosted, yes, and he never got sick as far as she could remember. Everything about him screamed positive, blessed even. Nothing in his physiology screamed danger.
The meteorite-infected man… she wasn't sure. The last time she had seen him, he moved like a zombie, his eyes empty, his flesh and mind twisted beyond comprehension. Lex had told her she reversed the kryptonite's effect on him, but that was Lex's claim, not certainty.
And Sean… still thriving on temporary warmth, still a storm in human skin. What was so different about him? Why couldn't she do the same for him that she had done for the meteorite-infected man?
Was it the exposure level? Did Sean's prolonged contact with kryptonite had somehow anchored itself in his entire being? Lucinda's mind spun as she tried to piece it together, every scenario she considered more absurd than the last.
It could be. In the original Smallville episode, Sean had absorbed Clark's body heat—enough to leave a grown man completely drained—and yet it hadn't cured him.
The only thing that actually stopped him was when Clark threw him onto a lake. Sean had literally frozen himself out of existence. Death by hyper-ice. Only then did the world breathe a sigh of relief.
Lucinda blinked, rubbing her temples as if sheer willpower could reset her brain. So that's it? she muttered under her breath, the thought tasting bitter in her mouth. The only solution is death? Her stomach twisted at the realization, heavy and cold like the frost spreading across the hospital floor.
Lucinda had clearly never killed anyone before. The thought of having to kill Sean to save everyone was making her entire nervous system stage a full-blown rebellion. Spasms, existential dread, and mild nausea, all included, she thought, complimentary with a side of guilt.
Did she have a choice? Sure… if only Clark were here. He was the one who defeated Sean in canon, after all.
If she couldn't cure him, well… at least the universe would hopefully let Clark do his job.
A soft brush against her arm made her startle. Lex's hand had found hers, resting lightly over the warmth she'd been trying to funnel into him like some DIY human heating pad.
"L-Lucy…" he mumbled, voice hoarse and faint, like he'd been gargling ice cubes for the past hour.
"Shh~," she hushed him quickly, glancing over her shoulder. Sean's uneven footsteps scraped against the ice, each step sending a sinister crack echoing down the hallway.
Lucinda shook off the fog of panic. She could now hear the distant human chorus: cries echoing from nearby rooms, ranging from terrified to mildly irritated. If she didn't act fast, these people were going to die—or at least suffer very bad cold.
"Lex…" she groaned, easing him against the wall. His body sagged slightly, lips pale as porcelain, eyes barely open. The dude suddenly looked like Saitama in One Punch Man, 8K hyper-resolution.
"L-Lucy, w-what's going on?" he croaked.
"No time for questions," she said, letting out a sharp, rib-rattling sigh. Questions were a luxury of the un-frozen.
Lex forced his eyes open, but all he could see was her silhouette: tense, moving with sharp precision.
"You stay here for a moment, okay? I'll be right back," she instructed, her voice soft but commanding—basically, the Lucinda Version of polite homicide.
Her gaze swept the other side of the hallway until it landed on a neatly folded stack of hospital blankets on a nearby bed. Bless this world for small miracles and extra fleece.
Without hesitation, she grabbed every blanket she could reach, layering them over Lex with the care of a parent swaddling a particularly stubborn baby seal. Bald head? Covered. Shoulders? Covered. Ego? Not covered—he had to maintain some dignity himself.
"W-What are you doing?" Lex managed, curiosity and confusion dripping from every syllable.
"Saving you from the cold. Now stay here hidden underneath these blankets," she said, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. He would thank me later, or at least live long enough to regret not dissecting me if I die here hihihi.
Lex reached to take her hand, a faint attempt to anchor her, but Lucinda had already let go. She stood, bracing herself, and stepped back into the hallway.
The ice stretched toward her like a living threat, crawling across the floor and walls, and Sean was still there, dragging himself forward with stubborn persistence. His arms hugged himself, trying in vain to hold onto warmth that didn't belong to him.
"I need all of your heat, Lucy! I need all of it!" Sean groaned, voice ragged, shivering violently.
"For what? You had a taste of my hotness and still didn't get cured," Lucinda snorted, arching an eyebrow and daring him to argue.
"Then die!" Sean groaned again, the same low, bone-rattling sound that had made the building itself tremble.
Lucinda's jaw clenched, a wry smirk tugging at her lips. "Kill me if you can. One question, though—can you fight? You might be a quarterback-level athlete, a man with training and strength, but me? I'm Lucinda, a dojo and Karate master back in high school. Can you win against me?"
Before Sean could respond, she shifted into a series of exaggerated yet precise karate stances, each carefully named in her mind.
First, she planted her feet wide and low, arms raised in a balanced posture.
"Front Stance," she muttered under her breath, feeling the ice crunch beneath her boots. "Solid. Unshakable. Very much like my patience with you, Sean."
She spun lightly on her heel into a "Cat Stance," back foot ready to pivot, her arms extended in sharp, deliberate angles. "Perfect for dodging… metaphorical and literal attacks."
Next, she shifted into a "Crane Stance," one leg bent, the other poised for a high kick, hands arched like talons. "Dramatic, elegant… intimidating," she said, her grin widening. "And yes, I look cute while doing it."
Finally, she landed in a "Horse Stance," feet planted wide, knees bent, arms flexed in ready fists. "Endurance and power," she muttered, flexing for emphasis. "You may have quarterback strength, Sean, but this is pure housemaid-slash-business-partner-energy."
Sean's bluish lips twitched, a smirk tugging at them despite the cold. He didn't answer, but the amusement—or maybe mild terror—shivering through him made her chest tighten.
Her grin faltered slightly as her eyes caught the floating blocks of ice, suspended in the hallway. Before she could react, Sean raised his shivering hand, and the ice coalesced into sharp arrow-like projectiles.
Lucinda's stance wavered. "Oh c'mon! Those… are never in the canon!"