Almost Clark (Chapter twenty-five)

Chapter Twenty-Five

He couldn't think of it. Not any of it. Not now. He had to clean up this mess.

He heard the phone's faint trill from the house. It was his mother again, he was sure. She wanted to come home. He'd told her not to. He wouldn't say it again.

He paced the loft. He didn't know what else to do. This thing... it had flown. He had no idea where it could be. It had been him... But not him at all. He'd been... evil? And the very thing that could weaken Clark had made the thing stronger. Even the clothes... Everything Clark could do, it could do. But everything that made up Clark, it seemed to be the opposite.

He felt almost dizzy, trying to sort it out. Nothing like this had ever... He stopped pacing and turned suddenly. Something like this had happened before- it had been happening for years. Had the phantom managed to somehow split him in two? Take out the thing that had always crouched inside him, only coming out when the red kryptonite touched his skin.

He approached the cabinet. He couldn't be sure. Kal had done some pretty dirty things in Metropolis, but would he kill?

He took out the box carefully and brought it to the couch. He couldn't put it on. If Kal was still inside him instead of out there, doing God only knew what... Well, he couldn't let him out. He couldn't afford a blank. He needed to stay focused.

He opened the box, sitting back on the couch. If he could just touch it a little, maybe he could see. He lowered his hand in very slowly, waiting for him. Sometimes, he came to him when he was nowhere near the stones. Put it on, Pal. Come on. Aren't you tired? Don't you want a little vacay? The voice always made it sound so tempting. You'll feel better. You're kinda tense, big guy. He liked to act like he cared about Clark, was doing all this for Clark, but Clark couldn't trust him. Kal only wanted to fuck and show off and have fun. It was all he lived for.

So Clark was careful as his fingers drew nearer to it. A rest. A way to forget, even for a while. It was all too tempting and he had to keep focused. He stopped, so nearly touching it that a warmth tingled at the end of his index finger. He stopped and laid his head back, closing his eyes and waiting...

Still here, Boyscout.

"Then what was that thing?"

Beats the f*ck out of me. All that Star Trek shit makes me wanna vomit.

"It flew," Clark said quietly. "If it had my powers, how can it fly?"

I'm still thinking on that one. I really think we should check that possibility out some day. He laughed. It's not like it'll hurt us. Could be fun.

"That's all you think about. People could be hurt. We have to stop that thing."

If I were you... He laughed again. And I kind of am. I'd let this thing slide for a bit.

"What?"

The sooner you round up the ghoulies, the sooner Daddy Dearest comes calling. Do you want that?

"I just want everyone to be safe."

What do you think you are? God?

"Why do I have these abilities if it's not to help?"

How should I know? It's a nice trick at parties. Kal's voice was petulant. He knew Clark was right. Clark could feel it. Hey, Boyscout, the voice turned smooth and cajoling. I bet you're tired.

"No."

Just for a little bit, huh? Just a taste. I just want to...

"You want to see her. And I won't let you. She's been through too much. She almost died."

You think I don't know that? His voice was harsh now. I do a whole fucking lot more for her than you do, Farmboy, so don't act like you're her little savior. She doesn't need protection from me. It's you that..

He ripped his hand back and tossed the box away. It hit the railing and bounced to the floor, its lid clattering shut. He hastily scrambled to it and picked it up, shoving it back in the cabinet. It had been close, but he'd resisted.

If anyone was going to see Chloe, it would be him. And not with Kal's dirty motives. He was the one who'd saved her. How could Kal think Clark was the one Chloe needed protection from? Kal was the one who toyed with her and screwed with her head and...

"Hey!"

He jumped and turned away from the cabinet. "Chloe." She hadn't missed it. Her eyes fell to the door with a strange expression of sadness. She looked almost healthy again. He remembered her pale skin in the morgue. He was afraid then that, even as alive as she was, she wouldn't be there for long. That threat was over, but he didn't want to think about it still.

"I've been looking all over for you," she said, her eyes searching his face.

He turned away and walked to the couch. "I've been busy."

"Yeah, I gathered." He felt her come up behind him. "Usually, these are the times when a certain reporter comes in handy." Her hand fell on his shoulder. "Clark, whatever's going on, you don't have to go through it..."

He walked away, letting her hand drop. "I want to do this alone. I have to." He gripped the railing and stared down into the barn. The animals had to be fed. He should take care of that. He had to take care of fucking everything.

"Okay," he heard her say softly. "I just thought I should tell you that Nell called. They're holding the funeral in a week. Things are a little crazy, what with Reeves Dam and all the others they've found, so..."

Clark wasn't surprised Lana could wait with Nell. Nell had been a stranger to her for years. And what was the harm anyway? It's not like there was anything left of her that would... "Got it," he said shortly. He wanted her to go. He had to figure this out.

He heard her steps going toward the staircase. They stopped at the top. He could see her from the corner of his eye. "They haven't found Lex's body," she said quietly. "And I just thought you should know," she said, an edge clear in her voice. "I'm an official Krypto freak."

His head turned. "How..."

"Crying," she said, a tiny, bitter laugh escaped her. "It turns out I just turn on the water works and the dead come back to life."

"Chloe..."

"The unfortunate side affect is that I die, too."

"But you came back," he said, finally seeing the strain on her face. He walked towards her.

"Yeah, well... for how long?" Her lower lip was trembling and he found himself in front of her, enfolding her.

"You're fine, Chloe," he murmured into her hair. "I can feel it."

"I just... what is this?" she sobbed into his shirt. "I mean, I heal the dead this one time and take their wounds and... now it's over."

He pulled back and peered into her eyes. "I thought you wanted it to be over."

She wiped her eyes. "Don't get me wrong, Clark. I mean, it's better than going Tina Greer and stealing lives, but... When things got worse, I kind of wanted something that could... just really help. Help you."

He rubbed her shoulders. Chloe always helped him, abilities or none.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she went on. "I'm not really that upset about the freak thing. It's probably just everything. Ignore me. Dead girls are pretty much infamous for mood swings."

He almost laughed before he thought about another dead girl. The death that he wasn't naming.

Chloe stared up at him, sniffling. "Okay. I'm good. Now what's going on?"

It was just like her, always down to business in the end. But he couldn't let her in on this one. "I can't talk about it."

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "Can't? Or won't?"

"Both," he said firmly. "I want you to stay out of this one."

"Are you kidding? Clark, I've never seen you this strained. If ever you definitely needed me in, it's on 'this one.'"

"No, Chloe." He grabbed her shoulders. "I've lost too much and I'm not losing anyone else!"

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

Too much. By that he meant Lana. By anyone else, he meant her. But she was finished letting it upset her. "Okay," she finally said. "Message recieved."

He let go and seemed to relax. "I'm sorry. But I think you should just concentrate on getting better."

She nodded. She felt fine now, but it would be easier if she seemed to agree. "You're right, Clark." She smiled. "Besides, I still have a job to go back to."

"Yes," he said, his eyes leaving hers and going somewhere far away. "The Planet needs to know that..."

"What?" she prodded when he trailed off.

His expression returned to stone as his eyes met hers. "Nothing."

"Oh... Well, I should go. Lois freaks if I leave her for too long. Death makes some people so clingy."

He didn't crack a smile. "Yeah."

"I'll see you, Clark."

Not only would she see him, she'd find what he was hiding. He was nuts if he thought he could save the world without her.

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

Clark woke up suddenly to the slam of a door. He was on his feet in seconds. He was always on his guard now. Today, he'd caught up with the... thing, it wasn't too happy to see him.

"Getting a little sick of these little interruptions," it had said, holding a piece of the wall it had just decimated in its hands. Clark had been speeding away whenever he found a news item that alerted him, twice pulling unconscious people from wreckage.

"You have to stop doing this," he'd pleaded. "People are getting hurt."

"Am I supposed to care?" He threw the large chunk into the distance. Clark winced as he imagined it landing. "Been trapped in the zone since I can remember. I deserve a little fun."

"Tearing down buildings? Is that fun?"

It shrugged. "If they're in my way." He'd leaned forward then. "But you know what really looks like fun? Your life." It laughed. It seemed almost boyish and harmless. "I catch bits and pieces. I like the parts with the blonde. Mmmm-mmm. You dog."

Clark rushed forward, but it jumped up, hovering above him. He leaped and it rose higher, then sank down again. Over and over. Taunting him.

"Come on, guy! Come get me." It's expression turned pitying. "Can't you fly?"

"You stay away from her!"

It seemed to think hard. "Maybe I will. Depends on whether you stay away from me."

He hadn't, of course. He'd spent the day pursuing it, trying to minimize the damage it seemed to take such joy in doing. He crouched at the top of the stairs, wondering if it had come for him.

He strained his ears. There was the rustling of cloth and a soft sigh. A feminine sigh.

He rushed downstairs. "Mom?"

"Clark!" he heard from the kitchen. He sped in to meet her. She hugged him tight.

"I told you to stay in D.C."

"And I did," she said, pulling back. "But I had to come back for the funeral tomorrow, Clark, no matter what you say."

"I... It's tomorrow?"

"Yes, honey." She stroked his face. "What have you been doing that would make you forget?"

He wouldn't tell her, no matter how she prodded. But her words assaulted him with guilt. Lana. He hadn't allowed himself to think of her. Now her face swam to the front of his mind along with the dreadful realization he'd been avoiding this week. She was gone. And she wasn't coming back.

And she took with her all of his dreams. Dreams of a simple life in this town, on this farm. Dreams of simple things like minivans and kids with baseball caps. Dreams that he didn't have to save the world or do the bidding of his absent father. He only had to live his life.

And now his life, his dream life, was gone. His head fell to his mother's shoulder and, for the sixth time in his life, Clark Kent cried.

Previous Chapter

Chapter Twenty-Six