Almost Clark (Chapter Seventeen)

Spoilers for Vengeance

Chapter Seventeen

Clark hadn't cried many times in his life, not even as a child. He could count the moments on one hand.

He was six. His kitten, Shadow, had lain on the road outside the farm... She was still, frozen, stiff. He'd sobbed in his mother's arms.

He was eight and hiding behind a bale of hay, muffling his sobs as his parents called his name plaintively. He didn't care. They weren't even his real parents.

He was ten. He'd been trying to clean his dad's new tractor as a surprise. But he'd slipped forward and smashed the hood in, ruining the thing his parents had saved a year for. He'd sobbed, then, trying to make it right as his father's voice got nearer and nearer. He was a freak.

Metropolis. He was seventeen, alone in a bedroom in a dark apartment. He'd sobbed as soft arms encircled him and a soft voice murmured that it was okay. That voice...

And now. He was nineteen and he held on to his mom as his father's voice laughed from the TV screen.

"It's okay," she murmured. "You need this."

He just gripped her sweater as hard as he would allow himself and release every tear he hadn't let fall all these years.

************************************

He sat in the loft, turning the watch over in his hands. Lana had found it. She'd searched all over Metropolis while he and Chloe acquainted themselves with the seedier side of town, searching for a masked avenger.

Chloe had told him he was too close to this one. She'd been right. He almost wished he could be like Andrea, cleaning the streets of criminals. But not with her reasons. Revenge clouded her judgment, made her do things Clark wouldn't, couldn't. He knew he would never kill. He'd been raised better than that.

He stared at the watch again, finally finding the strength the put it on.

The cordless rang, slightly muffled by the couch. He dug it out and pushed a button. "Hello?"

"Hey," a whispery voice answered.

Lana. "Hey, uh... Thanks again for finding my father's watch. It was..."

"It was nothing," Lana said. "You know I'd do anything for you, Clark."

He shook his head. Everyone was bending over backwards to please him lately. Sometimes, he hated it. But he pushed the thought away. He couldn't hurt Lana's feelings. "Same here."

"Clark if you want to talk or just... hang. I'm at the dorms, you know."

"Thanks, Lana. But I..."

"And Chloe's not here tonight. She's sleeping over Lois' place. I doubt she'd know if you... stayed."

"It's cool. I..." He stopped, frozen with the phone to his ear. "What?"

"I, uh..." She laughed nervously. "It's just that we haven't really... you know... not since that night." She was silent. Waiting.

And what could he say? How could he explain that he couldn't? His feelings for Lana were so strong, combined with his actual strength... He might hurt her. He didn't know if he'd be able to control himself. They'd been together before, but he'd been mortal. Normal.

Able to have things like sex. Things he just couldn't...

He felt himself hardening even as fear took over his body.

"Lana, my mom's calling me," he lied. "I gotta go."

"But, Clark, we need to..."

"I'll call you," he said quickly, hanging up.

He tossed the phone to the couch, afraid he'd break it. His fists were clenched at his side. He dug his fingers into his palms. He paced the small loft, back and forth, his fingers digging into his sides, then into his palms, finally pulling at his hair. It almost hurt.

It wasn't fair. It had been the worst week of his life and he wanted to scream, throw things, fuck... His mind may be a mess, but his body wanted to bury itself in someone, anyone, over and over until he was limp... numb.

And he couldn't. He could never hurt her, he loved her. She was so fragile. One grip that was too hard, one touch that was less than gentle and she'd... He didn't want to think about it.

He stomped the floor, feeling the room shake around him. On the other side of the room, a loose floorboard popped up, resting slightly askew against its mate.

He breathed deep. He had to get a grip. And, whatever he did, he would not go near that board.

*************************************

Chloe turned over on the couch, stifled by the stillness in the tiny apartment above The Talon. It was just too quiet to sleep in Smallville. These last months, she'd got so used to the sounds of the city, the pulse that lulled her to sleep. She found the quiet disturbing.

"It'll relax you," Lois had insisted. "We'll have a great weekend and watch all those old movies. I just got a DVD of The Lady Eve," she'd teased.

Chloe couldn't pass that one up. Barbara Stanwyck was practically her idol- so strong and sassy and slightly sneaky. Poor Henry Fonda's dopey rich boy. He'd never stood a chance. She'd stopped by the rental store and picked up His Girl Friday, too. Rosalind Russel was another one she got a kick out of.

Of course, this marathon had never happened. Lois ended up on a date with some random guy who'd chatted her up at The Talon. Would she be home? Chloe doubted it. It was just as well. Chloe should probably sleep. She needed it.

She'd spent these last days up all night at The Planet, helping Clark figure out Andrea. Watching Clark as he sped over town with her, almost making the worst kind of mistake.

She frowned. She'd taken a life once. It was the life of a boy who'd almost destroyed the town. It was in self defense. But it still haunted her. Gabriel had been her friend once. She'd even teased him about having her father's name, called him Dad once in a while, ruffling his hair. She didn't see him that way now. She saw his face as the gun went off. Saw his body fall to the floor.

She couldn't imagine how much worse it mmight have been had it been murder. Despite the ways he'd nearly justified it to himself, that's what it would have been had Clark taken Lionel Luthor's life. And it would have destroyed him.

Clark was destined to help, she knew that, not unlike Andrea tried to. But not now. Not when his face was still always so taut with tension and grief.

She got up, giving up on sleep, and made her way to the tiny kitchen, filling the kettle. Maybe some chamomile would calm her down. She decided to add a movie to it, putting on Lois' copy of Random Harvest. She'd watched some of it earlier and it really was engrossing. Greer Garson was now working as Ronald Coleman's secretary. They'd been married years ago, when he was suffering from amnesia, living in a tiny cottage in the south of England, making memories he'd soon forget. Now he was back in his rich, privileged life with no memory of their time together. And poor Greer had to stand by, watching him plan a wedding to another woman, all the while willing him to remember that she was not just his secretary. She was the love of his life.

It was easy to see why Chloe was so fascinated by this one.

She settled her tea on the table and leaned forward. This was a new twist. She couldn't believe they were going to... She jumped slightly at the knock on the door.

She rolled her eyes. "What? Did you lose your key?" She got up, shuffling to the door. "You better be alone, Lois. I'm not sitting here while you..." She trailed off as she opened the door. "Oh. Clark." He only stared at her. She pulled him in and closed the door. "Are you okay?"

He walked past her, his face unreadable. "I don't think so."

She stared at the back of his head. "Do you want some tea? I can put the kettle on again."

She saw him nod. She wouldn't pry. He'd talk when he was ready. She moved behind him to the kitchen, lighting the stove. "Do you think Andrea's gonna be okay?" He didn't answer. She kept her eyes on her work as she pulled down a mug and ripped open the tea bag's package. "I suppose she'll land on her feet wherever. I should keep an eye on the internet, though. See if our avenging angel turns up in Gotham City or Edge..." She trailed off. He was right behind her, his hands on her waist. She looked down, saw them, coming together over her belly button, partially exposed by her tank top.

She stepped to the side, shrugging him off. He didn't know what he was doing. It was best to pretend it never happened. "Kettle's done," she said brightly, reaching to turn off the stove. It wasn't close to done, but she needed something to keep her hands busy. Her hands that shook as she tried to pour the lukewarm water in the cup. She felt his hand over hers, then slipping to the handle to take the kettle away. She let him, standing still and shocked as he stood so close behind her.

"Chloe," he said so softly she almost couldn't hear it. She felt him lean down as his lips touched the back of her neck. "God, Chloe..."

Was life imitating art? Did Ronald remember that Greer was his? Only his... She sighed as the movie slipped from her mind and her body softened against his. It felt so good. Soft tingles raced all over her as she felt what she never had before. Open, honest, sexual caresses on her back, her shoulders, her breasts. And from Clark. The past seven months slipped away. There was only them. There was no death, there was no distance, there was no Lana...

Lana! She spun around, guilt shoving itself firmly into her mind. "Lana," she said, clutching his coat. "Clark, we can't..."

But he wasn't listening. His hands slid around her and down to her bottom, clutching her there as his lips lowered to hers. She felt powerless to stop him. You know why, her mind sneered. Do you really care about Lana when it comes to him?

"Yes," she whispered as his lips slid down to her neck. Clark seemed to take it as encouragement. The hands on her bottom slid up, taking her with them as he carried her backwards, towards the living room. I'm a good person, she insisted to herself. I won't betray Lana like this. But there was no answering protest from her body. It willingly let Clark touch and kiss and press her lightly to the wall.

"Clark," she cried faintly. "You aren't thinking straight." He didn't answer, only held her there by the waist with one hand as he slid down, taking her pajama bottoms with him. "I know you're still upset, but..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes slipped shut and rolled upward. There was no underwear, there was no barrier to his seeking lips as they closed around her clit.

"There's no going back," she gasped. "We can't go back if you..." She broke off, moaning as his tongue slid around and around. She couldn't fight it anymore. Clark was here and he was finally, finally the things she dreamed about, alone at night.

Her hands slid down her own body to tangle in his hair. The only sound in the room was her small pants and soft grunts. He hooked a leg over his shoulder as she slid further down the wall. Her hands could now reach the nape of his neck and they caressed him there, feeling the slight slickness of sweat as she slipped one under his still-buttoned coat, letting her fingers run over the hard, beads that were warmed by his skin, It was...

Not right. Her eyes opened wide as she stared down at him. His eyes were boring into hers from below with a faint, red glow. She stared at Clark almost in horror.

Not Clark. Kal. She started to push at him, a feeling of betrayal heavy in her heart. But he stared at her through narrowed eyes as his tongue sped up. She let out a startled shriek as it sped up further, demonstrating a speed she'd only seen when he ran. There was no time to say no. Her orgasm was taking her over too quickly.

She felt a finger slip inside and her body clasped it, trapping it. And, just when it seemed to be over, she was hit with another bout of spasms. He didn't let up until she was too weak to hold herself up. Her body stayed sealed to the wall with sweat and the one hand that held her there. She couldn't even open her eyes as he picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder like a dishrag.

"You tricked me," she said weakly, her mouth the only part of her body that worked. "You let me think you were..."

He tossed her lightly to the bed, where she sprawled like a limp ragdoll. She watched wordlessly as he unbuttoned his coat. She saw the necklace peeking at her from the neck of his shirt. Mocking her.

"Stop looking at me like that," he said abruptly. "You need this as much as I do."

"But I don't want to need..." She squeezed her eyes shut and let her head loll on Lois' pillow. "I don't want to hurt Lana."

"Neither does he," she heard Kal say.

She stared at the ceiling, listening to the clink of his belt, the rasp of his zipper. Clark didn't want to risk hurting Lana, so he'd let Kal take Chloe. It didn't matter if Chloe was hurt. Like always. Clark couldn't take the risk. He wasn't sure. But maybe somewhere he knew Kal had the control he didn't. Maybe she wasn't just a necessary risk.

Kal appeared over her, naked now, his face as hard and strained as Clark had been. She found her weak hand coming up to touch it. Did Kal grieve for Jonathon, too? Could he feel the pain and loss of the man that had raised Clark? Raised him, too?

"No talking," he said, his voice hard as he probed at her entrance. His face lowered to her shoulder as he slipped inside.

She supposed he did grieve. Sometimes, the line between Clark and Kal was blurred. Kal may do things Clark didn't. But Clark moved him to it. She let her hands roam over his back. She wondered what it was like, the moment the Red Kryptonite took over. Did Clark surrender or fight?

She didn't know. And she couldn't care. Kal needed her as surely as Clark must... somewhere in there.

She let him pound away inside her hard, fast and silent. Would she do this again? Knowing full well how they both betrayed Lana?

"Yes," she whispered. She was powerless against him. Against herself.

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Chapter Eighteen