Almost Clark (Chapter Six)

My first Clark POV.

As I go, I'm changing things from the original Ksite posting. When I read it over, i relize that sometimes sentences started int he middle, as if I'd been typing and, due to some computer burp, only half came out. Also, there are bits of dialogue that could be better or clearer. This is kind of a second draft.

Chapter Six

Clark sat in the hayloft,sprawled on the loveseat, going over the evening. Lead, he decided. The filing cabinet was lead. That's why he felt as if a splash of cold water had been thrown on him the moment she closed the drawer.

"And it wasn't a dream," he said to no one. What happened in Metropolis was real, whatever Chloe wanted them to pretend. They had to deal with this or... he didn't know what would happen.

He loved Lana. He always had. And Chloe cared about Lana, too. Maybe Lana was seeing someone new, but it didn't change how he felt. His strange feelings for Chloe complicated things, though. They weren't new. He'd always been attracted to her at times. But now... He remembered it all. Her compact, but powerful body against a door, on a bed, on the floor, and the bed again. And he sobbed in her arms.

When he woke, she was gone. And he swore it couldn't have been real, even as he slipped the ring on his finger. But it was real.

And it explained a lot. These last months, Chloe had been strange around him, avoiding touching him almost studiously. That day she'd kissed him at the med center, he'd had a flash. But he'd shrugged it off.

So, fine. He was attracted to her. And it was stronger now that he knew what he was missing. But he couldn't act on it. But you're both free, an evil part of his mind cajoled. What's the harm? He shook his head. He wouldn't do that to Chloe or to himself. He was still in love with Lana. He couldn't use Chloe like that, no matter how tempting it seemed at times.

"Clark?" he heard from downstairs. It was Chloe.

"Come on up," he called, not bothering to get up. He was too drained. "Did you do it?" he asked when he heard her foot hit the top stair.

"Do what?"

He turned his head toward her. "You know what."

She sighed. "No, Clark. I didn't destroy it."

He sat up. "Why not?" he said through tight lips.

She shrugged. "Destroying it won't help us. We need to figure out why you react to it. If we take it to a lab and get a blood sample from you and then we..."

He dropped his head into his hands. If she was in reporter-mode, there would be no stopping her. "Chloe," he groaned. "Stop. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but it's not necessary."

"But Clark, if we could..."

"My parents have already taken me," he lied. Yes! Good one. "I tend to have a reaction to the rock, that's all. I need to stay away from it and just hope for the best."

"Oh." She leaned on the railing and studied her shoes. "Just out of curiosity, what exactly is your reaction? A sudden need for blondes?" She looked at him and tried to smile. Maybe getting her out of reporter-mode has been a bad idea. It seemed to force her, and him, to deal with the situation.

"It's like drugs," he said, holding her gaze. "Or alcohol. It sort of strips away my... my..."

"Inhibitions," she finished, nodding. "It makes you do things you wouldn't normally let yourself..."

"Yes." He cut her off. "Thank you, Miss Dictionary."

She let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah. So what's my excuse?" She looked down again.

He got up and drew closer, ducking his head to draw her gaze. "I'm bigger and stronger?" He smiled, hoping she'd do the same.

She did, giggling as she met his gaze. "Oh, good. Now I have one." She sobered and searched his eyes. "All kidding aside, I'm glad to have someone to discuss this great shame spiral with. I mean, after he and I..."

"He?"

She shrugged. "That's the funny thing, Clark. It... he... he wasn't you. And I guess that's how I've been able to live with myself these months. Don't get me wrong," she said, smirking a little as she moved to the couch and sat. "He had all your... equipment. But his eyes, they were... I can't explain it. They weren't yours."

"No. I get you. The things he..." He laughed. "Now I'm saying it. The things that happened with the ring, they were hazy somehow. As if it wasn't me." He joined her on the couch. "As if it was just some crazy dream."

"Yeah. That's... kind of how I live with myself," Chloe said. "God, this has been killing me all this time. I've felt so alone and confused, but... Well, being able to tell my best friend just... It all goes..."

"Away," Clark finished.

"Yeah." She said quietly. "Not all the way, but... It helps with perspective." She smiled sadly. "It wasn't you, Clark. Whatever this meteor rock does, it... it's like Jekyll & Hyde."

He opened his mouth, then decided against it. He wasn't sure if he wanted to disabuse her of her split personality notion. While it was hazy, he knew that the things he did weren't exactly out of left field.

"Totally different guy," she went on, giggling slightly. "You should have seen this guy. He thought he was such hot sh*t."

Clark found himself laughing along. "Yeah?"

"Definitely. He strutted around the club with a skank on each arm and..."

"Hey!"

"Oh, and when he took me to the alleyway, he said..." She trailed off, her laughter subsiding. "Yeah. That part's not so funny."

Clark leaned back against the couch, letting out a loud breath. "What are we gonna do, Chloe?"

She leaned against the opposite arm and tucked her leg under her. "Get past it." She smiled. "It doesn't define us or our friendship. It's not... who we are. It's just something we did."

"Yeah," he agreed dully.

"And, you know, it wasn't even us. It was just this... fluke."

He could get behind that. "Yeah," he said, finally smiling back.

"I mean, just talking it over, I feel so much better. The guilt has been killing me."

"I can relate," he agreed.

"What?" She tossed a throw pillow at his head. "You've been feeling it for, like an hour or two. Try four months."

"Thanks, but no. I'm good with the hour."

Chloe grabbed the pillow back and beaned him again. And again.

"I hate to interrupt the attack, Chlo, but do you smell that?"

She stilled. "What?" She sniffed the air. "Cookies?"

He grinned and helped her up. "I love my mom."

"Mmm. Me, too."

He stopped when they reached the bottom of the stairs. "We're okay, right?"

She smiled widely, smiled like the old Chloe. "We're better than okay."

He opened his arms and she stepped in. Later, he wondered if it was too soon. Because the crisp, citrus scent of her hair and the softness of her breasts against him and the way her deep breath made them move against his chest... Well, he spent all night trying to get rid of that.

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Chapter Seven