Almost Clark (Chapter Thirty-Five)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Summer was ending. She wondered where she'd go when the tiny B&B closed its doors. But she couldn't think of that now. She'd go somewhere else, somewhere warmer. Not Florida, though. Never Florida. She shivered as the sea air hit her from the open window.

She picked up the phone. "Hey, Bart." She laughed. "Keep sweet-talking me and I just might." She paused. "Uh-huh. It's all done." She absently patted the envelope labeled Blythe Nellie. "I'll send it the usual way." She listened again. "Nope. Just searching away, though I do have a new source that says..." She laughed again. "No. No swimming for me. And tell A.C. to shut up." She paused again. "Listen, can you put Oliver on?"

She waited while he flirted some more. "We only have thirty more seconds. Just put him on, you doofus." She giggled again, but sat straighter when Oliver's voice came across. "Hey. How is she?" Chloe's hand hovered over her mouth. "No. I understand. I know you're doing all you can. Just... just tell her to hold on. Tell her I'm coming soon." She listened again. "Lois? She's fine... No. Nobody, from what I can tell. I think she still misses you... I'm only saying. Okay. You'll have my article by tonight." She smiled. "You, too. Tell those justice boys to fight on."

She cradled the phone quickly and picked up her envelope along with her room key. Only forty-five seconds. She tried to keep her calls under a minute. She sometimes wished they could be longer. Then she could get up the guts to ask...

It was just masochist to even wonder, but she wondered if they'd tried to contact him. She'd told them not to bother. He was starting a new life, after all. And they could handle Luthor. At least they were sure as hell trying...

She shut the window before she left. She lived a different life. No cell phone. No car. Just a laptop and a chep printer and a mission. This mission kept her to her room most days, waiting by the phone. But she didn't care. They didn't call her the Watchtower for nothing.

She'd learned early on that her cell phone was not secure. Luckily for her, she'd only been as far as Maryland when she found that out. It was Luthor. She thought he was after her for info on Lana then. She knew what he'd be after her for now if he knew, and if he could find her. The Underground was a Met-Star publication. Its roots were nearly untraceable, thanks to Oliver Queen, who had more money and power than Lex could dream of. Its contributors were even harder to find. It was a good thing for Blythe Nellie, who'd spent two months unearthing LuthorCorp's shadier dealings for all who were willing to read.

It had been Chloe's idea. As a free paper, they published what they wished. Some of what she wrote might be more speculation than not. But at least people might be warier of dealing with Lex Luthor. She approached the front desk. "Lester?"

She heard a TV switching off and prepared for the quaint onslaught. "Hi-ya, Chloe."

She smiled. "Evening, Lester."

"I was just wondering why a pretty girl like you doesn't go out more. The summer kids are having a clam bake down the beach."

Just wondering... If you took Lester literally, he apparently did nothing but wonder what she did with herself. "Thanks, but no. Got a hot date with Conan tonight."

He laughed. "That guy again? Those red-heads are trouble." He waggled his fading red eyebrows and she laughed. She had to. Lester liked his little, oft-repeated joke.

"Heh. Yeah. Anyway, a courier's coming for this around nine, so..." She placed the envelope on the desk with a crisp ten.

"I know, I know. Give him a ten and tell him same place."

"You're my guy." She crept back up the stairs. It was always the way. The courier took it to a bus stop locker where another courier picked it up. He then took it to Fed Ex, who delivered it to a post office box in Minnesota, where a sweet little lady took it to UPS, who sent it to a lone man in Boise who read all of it over a secure line to Oliver... or Bart or A.C. or Victor or whoever felt like typing (which wasn't many).

She thought of The X-files and The Lone Gunmen and wished she had two stalwart sidekicks to pal around with. But it was best alone. She had perspective alone and no unwelcome distractions. Her quest was the truth and she knew that lies would only cloud her. And if anything was a lie, it was Clark Kent.

She shook the thought off as she opened her door. It had been two months. She hoped she was over it. She supposed it didn't matter, either way. She would never see Clark Kent... or Carl Leery ever again. She kicked off her shoes and began pulling her top over her head. She stopped in mid-pull. The window was open. She started pulling it back down.

"Don't stop now. It was just getting interesting."

She screamed and whirled around. There was a dark shape in her bathroom doorway. She pulled the shirt down quickly. "Who's there?" Had Lex found out? But the shape was wrong. Too big. Too...

"Kal," she breathed as he stepped forward.

He only stared at her, his eyes glinting in the light from outside.

She lifted her chin and kept her distance. "What do you want?"

"An explanation," he said, shaking his head. "You've been very bad."

"On the contrary," she said. "I've been very good. And I plan to stay that way." He rushed forward, but she moved out of reach. "Hey! You keep your dirty hands off me! I won't help you cheat on your wife!"

"What?" he growled, eyes still intent on her.

"Lorna," she chirped. "Or do you now conveniently forget that Clark, or Carl, is married?"

He smiled. "Oh, that Lorna. Yeah. How could I forget?" He retreated and lounged in her desk chair. "Well, Clark was just wondering what you were doing here."

"Really? Well, you can tell Clark that I needed a little vacay. He knows what that's like." She glanced at the necklace. "Why didn't you just destroy it?"

He held it out from his neck. "What? This?" He laughed. "Clark needed a push. See, your cousin wouldn't tell him where you were. Got pretty nasty about it, too. He actually searched all over. Guy was too pure to do the obvious. Took a lot of convincing to let me out." He glared at her. "I'd find you anywhere, Chloe. How could you think I wouldn't?"

Her head was swimming. Lois hadn't said a word about Clark coming by. Maybe she thought she was protecting Chloe. Chloe shook her head. "Well, you found me. Now take it off and let Clark go back to the little woman."

"Little woman?" He snapped his fingers. "Oh, yeah. Lana... oops. I mean Lorna."

"Yes!" she hissed. "I'm fine. Better than fine. I'm over you. Both of you."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"So it wouldn't make a difference if you knew that Clark never left Smallville. Well... except on searches for a certain sneaky blonde."

"Never..." She found herself sitting on the bed. "I don't get it. Did Lana stay?"

"Lana again?" He shook his head. "No. See, Clark has these pesky things called ethics. He didn't want to run off with a girl who was still married, would have let her husband die, and didn't understand him."

Her hands were shaking.

"So," he went on. "A little kiss and a pat on the head and it was home." He glared at her again. "To an empty house."

She rubbed at her suddenly cold arms. "Lois never told me."

"Oh, so you asked?"

"No, I..."

"Oh, right." He smiled tightly. "You assumed."

"I... I..."

"And room 23? How romantic. You remembered."

"It was open," she said, going for defiant, but coming off shaky.

He stood up and came around the bed. He crouched in front of her. "You owe me."

Her hands stilled as she stared at him. "I owe you?"

"Mmm-hmm. Fifty-eight fucking nights." He tilted his head. "Or is that fifty-eight nights of fucking. Either way..." He leaned up.

But she pushed him and ran for the door. He was behind her immediately, holding it shut. "No," she cried out. She turned around and pushed at him. "I can't go back to it. I can't go back to the lies. I can't be Clark's sidekick and your blow-up doll. I won't!" She slapped him, knowing very well it wasn't hurting. She wished it would.

He took it, standing still, his hand still on the door above her head.

She tired, her slaps turning weaker. "No," she cried again. "I won't."

"You don't have to," he whispered.

She looked up and wiped her eyes. "Then what do you want from me?"

"You didn't say goodbye." His eyes seemed almost warm, almost Clark's.

She stuck her hand between them. "Goodbye, then."

"Is that how they say goodbye in Maine? Little cold."

"Well, it's all you'll... mmmph!"

He was kissing her. He was kissing her and, God help her, she wanted it. "You were waiting for me," he whispered against her lips. "That's why you chose this room."

She didn't answer, only pushed upward, wishing she could devour him.

"You're mine," he whispered.

"No." She broke away and pushed him backward. This time, he went. "You are mine," she hissed.

His eyes widened and he half-smiled.

"Do you think this is funny?" She pushed hard and he fell backwards, caught off-guard. She crawled over him and grabbed the collar of his shirt. "I have watched you fall all over every fucking girl in town for years!" She pulled hard and buttons went flying.

He stared up at her hungrily.

"I have fucked you whenever you came and watched you conveniently forget!" She moved down and grabbed his waistband. She didn't even bother unbuttoning it before she jerked hard.

He cried out as the jeans pulled over his sensitive flesh. It stood hard now, jutting up at her as if choosing her.

It just better.

She stepped off him and pulled her shirt over her head. "I have been there for every God damned person I knew except me!" She pushed her sweatpants down and stepped out. "I want something of my own." She moved her hands to her breasts.

He groaned and threw his head back. "Jesus!"

"Just once, I want to be in charge of my own life." She crawled over him, grasping his cock. His hands reached for her. "No!" She slapped them and they fell away. "You touch me when I say you can."

"Okay," he gasped, staring wide-eyed at her. "Anything. Just..."

"Just what?"

"Come on, Chloe. I..."

"I want to hear you beg."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Fuck me. Please, Fuck me."

"Open your eyes," she said, her voice gentling.

He did and she slammed herself down on him. "God!"

He clenched his hands in the sheet, but didn't touch her. She leaned over him, rocking slowly and took his nipple in her mouth. She bit down hard. He moaned and jerked upwards. She straightened and picked up speed, rolling her hips over him, trying to control her breath. She wanted this to last. She had plans for him.

His moans turned to grunts and she knew he was close. She stopped and his eyes flew open. "Touch me," she said as calmly as she could. And he did. His hands roamed over her hips and up to her shoulders finally squeezing at her breasts. She let her inner muscles squeeze him and he cried out, gripping her harder. She moved slowly again as her hands ran between his grasping ones, up his torso. They glanced at his nipples, but passed them. She stilled her hips as her fingers found the beads.

She ripped, feeling the necklace split in her hands. His still grasped her breasts as it sailed out the window.

Clark's eyes cleared of their red glow.

Blue eyes met green as she leaned down.

"There is no Kal," she whispered.

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Chapter Thirty-Six