Almost Clark (Chapter Twenty-Seven)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The weirdest thing was how natural it felt.

They were in the middle of a fairly huge crisis. Everyone around them was in danger. Some had already been lost. And suddenly, it could be any night. Any normal night when two friends sat on a couch and found themselves leaning into each other.

She closed her eyes. Four years of sex and there was finally going to be a mutual kiss. And it wasn't because they were desperately afraid they wouldn't see each other again. It was just because of the kind of comfort they had in each other, the faith they had in each other. This could be the kiss to end all kisses for her.

She tilted her head up, waiting...

And he was gone. No explanation. No excuses. Just gone. It was the Spring Formal, except it hurt so much more.

"Fine," she muttered. He could just keep doing his dance. She didn't want some guy who was probably still rebounding anyway. And rebounding from what? The relationship he might have possibly had with another man's wife. It would be sad if it wasn't so ridiculous.

Tears pricked her eyes. She wouldn't let them fall.

She stomped to the kitchen, pulling on her sweater as she went. She needed some air. She couldn't breathe in here. She spied a pair of rubber boots near the back door. They'd be big, but what did she care?

At least the night was calm. And so quiet, she wondered if she could hear for miles. The quiet soothed her a bit. It made things clearer. She ambled idly on the packed dirt between the house and barn. The light was minimal, but it would do. She didn't need to perform brain surgery, just think...

She didn't feel guilty about Lana anymore. Lana had screwed with Clark almost as badly as Clark had screwed with Chloe. Always making him feel so guilty because he wouldn't tell her his secret, prodding Chloe for it. If she'd been Lana, she'd have taken Clark even with the excuses. It was always nearly enough for her to know that he was special. She'd used every trick in the book to get it out of him for years. But she knew now that the obsession with exposing him was nothing more than resentment. She suspected that if he'd been hers, she wouldn't have cared if he was a pod person. She'd have been content, as Lana never would be.

Maybe that was the entire problem with her. She was too easy to be with. Too easy to have. Maybe Clark preferred the idea of Lana to the reality of Chloe. It was easier to chase a dream than to actually have to be in a relationship. Tears pricked her eyes again.

She started back to the house, intent on sleep, but she stopped short of the door. There was a squeak, and worse, a sickening squish beneath her boot. She lifted her foot slowly and leaned down.

"Oh, no." She knelt on the ground. She felt the tears now. There was a madman out there, Clark was still rejecting her, and now she'd killed a mouse. "The poor thing." It was so tiny. Its little ribs were crushed. She could see it breathing feebly. It was ridiculous. She was crying over a mouse now. But these weeks had been so hard and it's cute little face... was glowing.

A tiny white light seemed to illuminate it and Chloe's hand resting on the ground. It was like before, but smaller. She could actually see the mouse twitch, then stir, then speed away into the field. It had happened again. She hardly had time to marvel before she cried out, her hand clutching her torso.

God, it hurt! Her ribs were closing in and she couldn't breathe! This time, she really might die. And she might not come back. She hit the ground hard, thinking that anything might be better than the pain.

"Oh, God!"

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

Clark sped across Crater Lake, feet only skimming the water. It was times like this, he thought he might fly. It was the closest he came and he craved it. It wasn't just so he could catch Bizarro. He wanted the perspective. Everything might be clearer with a God's eye view.

He kicked the ground on the other side and sat down. It was all too confusing. He respected Chloe. He depended on her, too. Her mind was a thing of wonder. At the same time, there was an attraction. He himself didn't like to dwell on it, but there was a part of him that did. And it was getting tempting to let it out.

But he couldn't. He respected Chloe too much to hurt her. He liked her, but... he wasn't in love with her. He still loved Lana. Even with her gone, he still loved the life he could have had with her. Life with Chloe wouldn't be some simple and happy existence in Smallville. It would be an intense, driven city life. Fraught with the pressure she seemed to always put on him- as if he could save the world. He would clean up his own messes. He would protect his loved ones. But he would not be responsible for anyone else. He couldn't.

He felt a cool rock next to his hand and picked it up, wondering how far it would skip. He turned it over in his hand. It wasn't a rock. It was metal. He broke it apart and saw that something was... He dropped it and stood up.

"Great," he yelled at the sky. "As if this wasn't hard enough." He stared down at it. The ring. The very ring he'd wrapped in lead and thrown into the distance nearly four years ago. He thought of throwing it again. This time, he'd put his back into it... But something made him pace away instead. He drew back his fist and drove it into the ground. Carefully, he kicked the ring in, toeing some dirt on top of it. As awful as the red K could be, a part of him couldn't bring himself to...

He stopped and tilted his head. he heard something.

Oh, God!

"Chloe!" He sped across the lake, straining his ears. He heard soft whimpering, then... nothing. He sped back to the farm, checking the house. The barn. The back...

She was there, pale and motionless on the ground. "No!" He reached her, shaking her by the shoulders, then rubbing her arms. "Come on, Chloe! You can't..."

She suddenly seized, every muscle tightening as she went stiff and trembling in his arms. He watched in horror as she shook, her hands clawing outwards. Then she went limp against him. But he could feel her heavy breaths against his chest. He supported her neck and pulled her head up. "Chloe? What happened?"

"I saw a mouse," she said, her eyes barely open.

When he'd settled her on the couch, he took her tea cup, meaning to refill it.

"Can you make it coffee?" Chloe called weakly from the couch. "I feel so tired."

He took his time preparing it, wanting her to have a minute to gather herself. "I saw a mouse" wasn't exactly an explanation of what he'd seen. He dumped in about half the sugar bowl and a splash of milk. Chloe always looked for the sugar/caffeine joint jolt in her coffee.

"It happened again," she finally said when she was propped up with her mug.

"What?"

"My krypto power or whatever you call it. I cried. It hit a mouse. And Voila. Mouse runs off."

"Huh?"

Chloe took a deep breath and took him through it.

"So you were upset abut the mouse and you..."

"It wasn't exactly about the mouse, though it was so sad, just lying there. I was just stressed abut all..." She seemed to stop herself.

"About what?"

"Doesn't matter. The point is that it worked again. And this time it didn't kill me. It just put me out for a bit. And I felt it. What the mouse felt."

"Well, a mouse is smaller than a person, Chloe. This doesn't mean you should go around crying on people. You might not come back."

"Yes, but... Your abilities weren't perfect the first time. You had to practice." She shook her head. "But the way I'd have to practice with this... It's unthinkable." She seemed to perk up, her eyes widening. "Clark."

"What?"

"My tears can heal." She stood up suddenly, half-spilling her coffee.

He stood as well, putting a hand under her elbow. "Yes, we know that."

"But if they can heal someone normal, maybe they can hurt... someone else," she breathed the last.

Clark's brain caught up with her. He didn't like the look in her eye. "No, Chloe!"

"But it might be the only way to weaken him, so you can capture the wraith."

"I don't care!" He turned her to face him. "You saved Lois and it almost killed you. You healed a mouse and crushed your own ribs..."

"But not permanently. It only hurt for seconds before I..."

"Before you passed out," he finished, shaking her. "Do you even know what it might do to you to take on a wraith in a kryptonian body?" He shook her again. "No. You don't. There's no way of knowing. So you are not going to try this. Do you understand?"

"No," she snapped. "Shake me again. It helps me think." She swayed forward.

He caught her and picked her up, speeding her to her room. "Just go to bed," he said placing her there. "And leave this alone. You don't know what you're dealing with."

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

"Don't know what you're dealing with," she mimicked in the stupidest voice she could dredge up. She pushed at The Daily Planet's revolving door and fairly stomped in. She was still angry. She should be happy to be back at work, back with the resources she had to help him. But Clark didn't need help. Oh, no. Clark knew everything and she didn't know what she was dealing with.

As if he knew. She was the only one thinking. All he did was chase the thing and try to fight it when he couldn't. At least the thing was sticking to Kansas, mostly. There was enough of Clark in it for it to be nearly as unadventurous. That made her mad, too. Clark had all this power to help and he hardly used it. If it were her, she'd be on top of the news and rushing to the rescue wherever she could.

"Stupid, stubborn, control freak..." She was so busy muttering and fuming, she nearly knocked over the guy on the stairs. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Chloe?"

She turned back. "Jimmy!" He rushed forward and hugged her. She'd nearly forgot about Jimmy with all that had happened.

"I was so worried," he was saying. "I went to the Talon and I couldn't find you and they told me your were on sick leave here. Where have you been?"

"I've... I..." She looked down. She couldn't tell Jimmy what had happened. He didn't need to know she was a freak. "I've been staying with Clark," she finally said.

When she looked up, he looked crestfallen. "Oh. Well, yeah. With him and his mom..."

"Actually, Martha went to Washington. The..." She couldn't do this anymore. Jimmy was only in for a bruising if she kept lying to herself and to him. "Jimmy, can we go somewhere and talk?"

He looked at her miserably. "What's the point of going somewhere? You might as well just tell me. It's him. You want to be with him."

Of course she did. But this wasn't all about Clark. "It's not that. I just have a lot on my plate and I think we should..."

"No, it's cool," he said coldly. "I've got plenty to do, too. Have fun with... your plate."

She watched him walk into the office, feeling like she'd just kicked a puppy. It didn't get better, either, as the day wore on. He either was ignoring her or staring at her like she was something stuck on his shoe. She had no appetite for lunch.

She went to the roof instead, looking over the city. It was relaxing. What did it matter if one guy got hurt in the scheme of things? She had to concentrate on the task at hand. Stop Bizarro. Figure out whether 33.1 still had her number. Was Lex really dead or...

"Oh, yeah!" She turned her head to the faint voice. It was on the other side. She crept toward the skylight and peeked around. It was him. He was pelting pigeons with little rocks.

"Bizarro," she said before she could stop herself. He stopped what he was doing and turned. Of course. Super Hearing.

"Blondie," he said, grinning. He dropped a handful of pebbles and a few pigeons got away with their lives. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Are you following me?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. For some reason, I remember this place." He was suddenly in front of her. "We never exchanged names, you know. Of course, I don't have one." He grinned again and gripped her around the waist.

"Just call me not interested," she said, pushing at him.

"Oh, come on."

She found her feet leaving the ground. The hands that pushed him suddenly gripped him. They were twenty feet up. "Oh, my God! Put me Down!"

"Okay," he sighed. She found herself falling to the roof, then he had her again. "See? You didn't mean that."

She was so angry, she wished she could cry. Right this second. See of it wiped that manic grin off his face. "Killing pigeons?" she sneered. "Must be lots of fun."

"Hey, don't knock it. They make a nice, little squeak." He leaned in. "What noises do you make, Blondie?"

She was almost shaking with rage. "None that you'll ever hear."

He shook his head. "And I thought we'd be such good buddies. Like with you and Whats-his-face."

"Clark?"

"Yeah, Clarky-boy. Sometimes I feel like you two are a little better than buddies," he leered. "As for me, the jury's still out. Though I do feel a certain interest."

She could feel that interest on her leg. How could someone who looked like Clark repulse her so completely? "Look, Bizarro..."

"Bizarro?"

"You don't know what you're doing. There's a wraith inside you, making you destructive and..."

He rolled his eyes. "And I should stop this mindless destruction before someone really gets hurt? I've heard it all from your boy, there." He smiled. "But you... I bet you could talk some sense into me." He pulled her closer and she felt them sinking down. "Wanna go somewhere and convince me?"

"I'd rather get friendly with a snake," she said, glaring.

"Your loss."

And he dropped her. It was only three feet, but still... She got up, watching his retreating form fly off. This was like The Monkey's Paw or something. She finally had a guy that looked like Clark all over her and he was a refugee from the land of evil opposites.

And, if they didn't stop him, he could destroy most of Metropolis. She felt frustrated tears seeping from her eyes. She looked down at the ground. A pigeon was at her feet, twitching slightly. She let a tear fall. She just wanted everything to be okay.

She was hardly surprised when the light shone again, engulfing the pigeon as it got up, hastily flying away. She gritted her teeth at the pain in her stomach. It felt like a knife or a bullet. But she refused to fall down. She gritted her teeth and clutched her stomach. "It's not really there," she hissed. "It'll be gone in a minute. Come on."

She felt dizzy, but she stayed standing, waiting for it to pass. And it did. She felt weak as she climbed down the stairs and back to the basement. But it was better. She knew something she hadn't now. She could control this. She could learn. And she would.

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