Almost Clark (Chapter Four)

Still spoiling Exile and Phoenix, here.

Chapter Four

"You're mine," he breathed against her ear, still now. He slipped out of her and picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all. She clasped her hands behind his neck, mesmerized by his eyes, now so blue, so almost-Clark's that she wished he would let her cry for him. "You're mine," he repeated. "And don't you forget it."

Later, she'd thought she imagined it. It must have been a dream between the frantic boughts of lovema... no. Fucking. It was fucking they did through the night and part of the day. And she'd best remember that.

It left her raw and guilty, yet fulfilled and languid as she snuck around his sparsely furnished apartment, trying to locate what clothes she had. It was four blocks to her car and a warm day. She felt better somehow when she slipped on her skirt. Decent. It was wrinkled, but unrolled and at least to her knees.

See? She was a decent girl. Decent girl didn't do this... ever again.

She sat on the bed to put on her shoes. A faint stirring behind her stopped her for a moment, but he soon quieted down. She turned to him, assaulted with visions of last night. The scar on his chest. It worried her. Was it a gang mark? Had he joined some thugs? Is that where he money was coming from? The reporter in her wanted to know, wanted to snap a picture and post it on the Wall Of Weird. But she wouldn't do that to him. It was bad enough she was keeping up this facade of working for Luthor.

She touched it briefly, carefully, as another memory flew at her. At some point in the night, she dreamed that Kal woke up screaming, the mark on his chest glowing red through his shirt. "Take it off!" he'd screamed. She'd thought he'd meant the shirt and she tore at it, gasping to see the large, mottled network of scars, forming something that looked like an 8. And it glowed like hot embers. But it hadn't been the shirt. It had been the ring. She'd figured that out when he'd desperately tore it off and flung it to the floor. She peeked over him, shaking just a little. It was there.

It hadn't been a dream. The scar really had burned and Chloe really had lain next to him on the bed, smoothing the hair back from his soaked forehead as he sobbed himself to sleep and she followed fitfully after.

She got up from the bed and backed away slowly. That had been Clark. The sobbing boy. This was Clark, who slept so soundly, yet with a crease between his brows. It was all too strange. Had the explosion on the farm done something to Clark? Was he a meteor freak? And what did their class ring have to do with any of it? She knew it was another kind of meteor rock, but...

She shook her head. Whatever he was, he needed help. He wouldn't take it from her. Whatever "Kal" had done to her and with her, Clark had eyes for one girl only. And that's who Chloe had to see.

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Chloe stood at the pastry counter at the Talon where Lana left her. "I think you've done enough," Lana had said. If only she knew. If Lana was angry that Chloe had hidden Clark's (Kal's?) whereabouts, she'd be explosive if she knew what Chloe had spent the night doing.

No, not explosive, she amended, wiping a tear from her eye. She'd be hurt. Anger could fade, but the kind of hurt that would put on Lana would turn to hate. Hate for her and for Clark. Did they deserve it? Well, she knew she did.

She thought of following Lana. Lana wasn't street smart. She could get mugged or worse. But she was afraid. She was afraid Lana would find out. "Kal" might even tell her. She knew he wouldn't care for Lana's feelings, or her own, for that matter. But she was mostly afraid because everything had changed. Should Clark come back, change back, she had no idea what would happen.

As she drove home, she finally let herself sob. She mourned for what she'd done, for what he'd done, and for a friendship that would never be the same again.

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Chloe had decided what to do. He was back. He was back and he was... Clark again. She congratulated herself as he walked into The Torch's office that her hands stayed steady on the mock-up she was working on. She took a deep breath before smirking at him. It never happened, she told herself. If she acts that way, then he will and they can just go back.

"Kinda far from your new 'hood, aren't you, Clark?" she asked, trying to sound uninterested.

"I just came to say thank you."

Thank you? Chloe froze, then shrugged. Whatever he was thanking her for, she didn't know. "Oh, it's one of those days, because I can never tell with you, whether you're gonna walk in and it's gonna be an apology or an accusation.

Clark came closer. "Chloe, I gave you absolutely no reason to stand by me. But you knew where I was all summer and didn't tell anyone."

She looked up. His eyes were clear, blue, and so innocent that she almost dropped the paper. So he was playing along. Good. She tried to laugh. "Yeah, well, that's what friends do for each other, Clark." She turned her attention back to her mock-up. "Talk to Lana yet?" Though what she wanted to do was beg him not to tell her. Besides, it never hapened and there was nothing to tell. She'd seen Lana briefly yesterday. "Well?" was all she asked. "He's coming home," Lana had said before stalking off. She didn't know. She couldn't know.

He sat down at the desk. "I tried," he sighed, so much like himself again that she found herself staring dumbly at him. There was no guilt in his eyes. That's when she realized it. He didn't remember. whatever Kal had done, Clark didn't have a clue. She glanced down at his right hand. No ring. Pieces started to click together in her mind.

Chloe let out a bitter laugh. "That's it? After two years of nonstop Lana lusting, that's the best you can do? Come on."

"I think it's for the best."

"You're not staying, are you?" She knew the Kents' farm was up for auction, but she never thought they'd leave. She didn't know what mad her sadder- that he was leaving or he had no idea what they'd done. She should be happy, shouldn't she? It was wrong, all wrong what they'd done.

"I haven't made up my mind yet," she heard him say as if from far away.

"You can't keep running away, Clark," she said as if in a trance. "We all do things we regret. Sometimes you have to stop and face your demons."

Hypocrite, she called herself as she watched him walk away. She had a hell of a demon in her mind and she was going to just push it away. As long as he didn't remember, she could.

She looked at her desk drawer. Pete had told her where he'd got the ring. She moved to the large lead file cabinet in the corner and pulled out a small box. There was the other. She slipped it on her finger, staring at it in wonder. What was it about this red ring that made Clark turn into another person? She felt no different wearing it. Was he infected? He seemed all better now, but for how long?

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Chapter Five