How We Got Here (Part Five)

Okay. At this point, we are going AU. I haven't watched the finale and I am not going to deal with the finale except for what I know of it that's useful to me. Even before this, I knew it would have no bearing on the story.

Most flashbacks will be post Hostage, but not canon. I am officially done with Smallville canon from this point onward. Honestly, I could have done without it from the end of season seven (to have Clex cuddling in the fortress only to ruin it. Fie on you, SV!!) or even season five (Vessel kiss would have been a great ending. Think of the possibilities if the show had ended right there. The happier universes we could have created unfettered by how screwed up it all became).

Anyway, whining over. I was waiting until the finale aired to finish this chapter, but the morning of the finale, I found out I'd never be watching Smallville again (Thanks again to Greg Beeman's blog for the heads up). This will only make writing fic easier for me and a more joyful endeavor.

So here we go.

Dealing with some canon, but as I said, not much.

BTW, when I wrote the lines about weight, I started seeing this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=irUgB0Pm_sk Please watch it. It's lovely and heavy and all the things I love about about Chlark. Thank you, Bella882, for making it.

By the way, I tried to research law on this, then just gave up. It's fic, damn it.



PART FIVE

"Just stop!" Clark found himself yelling, covering his eyes. He could even see the images through them. It was maddening. "Please..."

There was silence and darkness. He opened his eyes and found there was nothing but darkness around him.

"Jor-El?"

"Don't you understand?"

Clark stared around him, into the blackness. He shivered slightly, not with cold, of course. "Could you turn the lights back on?" he asked with unease.

"I'd rather you listen to me."

"Well, so you know, it's not always easy to listen to a disembodied voice. If I had something to focus on..."

"I do not want you to focus on me, but on yourself."

"I don't do that," he whispered after a moment.

"You once did. When I search your mind, I find years of soul-searching."

"You mean moping." He chuckled to himself. "I was a stupid kid, alone in my loft, cursing fate and..."

"And are you much smarter now? Alone in your fortress or on your farm? But I wasn't speaking of... moping. Discussions, Kal-El. counsel and comfort. You had these things once."

The blackness turned to swirling images again and he flinched, expecting more images of himself, in black and with hardened eyes, doing things that seemed wrong when you looked at them. But he saw...

His father, placing his hand on his shoulder in the kitchen. His mother holding him in the living room, scolding him in the dining room, leaning on him at a grave. Pete laughing and tossing him a basketball. And Chloe...

Clark swallowed hard, his eyes burning. "Most of these people are gone," he croaked. "If not dead, gone. And most of them because of me, because being around me is dangerous."

"She isn't gone," Jor-El said. The images flashed to Chloe, over and over.

Her eyes desperate as she said she needed him, burying her head in his chest, under a blanket in front of a fire, leaning toward him in the loft, touching his unmarred side after he "died," telling him he didn't need to save her if the world was at risk...

"She's as good as gone. She left." He took a deep breath. "She wants to be gone."

"Not inside. She carries the weight of you as well. I sense it in her, in you."

Chloe, with red hair now, her eyes running with mascara and tears, clutching a sheet to her...

"She didn't come back to be pals again, believe me. And... as well? I don't carry this weight of her. I... I just needed to know she was okay and then I could... ruin her life," he mumbled.

"Yes. I see that you did."

Chloe at an altar, turning to him, shocked and grieved and angry...

"Why did I do it?" he groaned. "Should have just left it alone."

"You needed her."

"No," he yelled. "I don't need her anymore. I don't feel that way about her. I was just angry. I'm going to let that go. I'm going to sign the papers and then she'll leave with... Allan." He couldn't help sneering the name and he didn't even know the guy, apart from on paper. He needed to get a grip. "Then I'll be..."

"You'll be lost again."

"What is your deal with her?" Clark snapped. "She's only one woman..."

"Yet your lack of judgment, lack of empathy, lack of... humanity..."

"You said I'm not human."

"But you live among them and must understand them."

"No. I save them. It doesn't mean I am like them."

"But to live among them, you must be. Do you still refuse to see? You think of separate lives, of the hero and the man. But they should be one. To live among them, you must empathize with them, understand them. You no longer understand them and the lack in you coincides with the absence of this one woman in your life. Of this woman."

Clark squeezed his eyes shut again. Against nothing now. It was black around him again. "Even if what you say is true..."

"I do not believe I am mistaken."

"Well, if you aren't... She... she doesn't... she doesn't feel that way about me."

"She carries the weight of you. I sense it in..."

"You sense it," he sneered. "You've been wrong before. You don't know..."

"I know what I see."

The blackness lit up again, and with Chloe again...

Chloe's face falling as he said it was easy with Lois... Chloe's eyes becoming hooded and guarded as he brushed off her attempts to joke wit him on Valentine's Day... Chloe's voice faltering as she told him she was proud of his decision to leave... Chloe staring down between them. "If this is what you need," she said, as she met his eyes, then his lips, her eyes squeezed shut as she pulled him inward...

"She only did that to make me... I was drunk and she... Damn it! Stop!" And it did. The images stopped and he tried not to feel bereft as he stared into the blackness around him. "That was just... That was about the work. It was all we had left, then. She didn't feel that way. She was trying to protect me..."

June 1st, 2010

"We need to protect you," Chloe yelled.

"At what expense?" he yelled back.

"At any expense!"

"Okay, calm down. Both of you." Oliver stepped in, then, grasping her around the waist in The Watchtower's sort of... den. Since she'd moved in officially, she'd prettied the place up a bit. There were throw pillows and chenille blankets draped over the couch. He was sitting against one now as he watched Oliver's hand run down her waist. He tried not to flinch, but he did. There was something about Oliver and Chloe... As much as he tried to accept it, it made him see red.

He closed his eyes against the burning and spoke. "I'm not going to let you lie on the stand."

"Hey!" Oliver let Chloe go with a hand on her shoulder and moved to Clark. "We don't know if it's going to get to the stand."

"It will," Chloe said darkly. "And if you think I'm going to let loose five years of secrets just because some disenfranchised soldier..."

"You might not have another choice," Clark said, standing now.

"Clark, I lost my career, everything I dreamed of, keeping this secret..."

He sat back down.

"Jesus! I'm not blaming you. Okay? I'd do it again."

He stared up at her. "I never wanted you to..."

"It doesn't matter, Clark. It happened. And I'm not about to let all that go because some Kandorian went rogue."

It did, looking at it now, seem like such a tiny event in all they'd suffered. Clark had dispatched the Kandorians using the Book of Rao. It nearly cost him his life, but he'd even got Zod in the end. He'd sent them all to their own world, all but one. One that, with Chloe's help, had been named Scott Atkinson. One that had missed out on the powers he called his birthright, finding his compadres gone, had gone after Kal-El in search of blood, of power. One that had followed him, had shadowed the blonde that visited him in Metropolis General, the blonde that had been one of the few given leave to visit him under the care of Dr. Emil Hamilton. Had made it clear he didn't care whether this blonde lived or died. Had made it clear that Zod leaving this earth had only made room for him to rule.

It was funny that Zod, in all his knowledge, hadn't picked the right woman to shadow. He'd picked Lois Lane, sometime girlfriend of Clark Kent, he'd tricked her and cajoled her, tried to draw her in. But Scott Atkinson, minor grunt, really, had chosen a more efficient route. He'd picked the confidante of Kal-El, had found out how to hurt him where he lived. It might have even worked. Clark was damned near ready to give him what he wanted and worry about neutralizing him later. But "Scott" messed up, thinking he could hold a knife to this woman's throat and live. The minute the blade pressed inward, the minute Chloe's blood leaked from her skin, was the moment Scott Atkinson ceased to exist. Not that Clark meant to kill him, really. But that trail of blood set off the chain of events that killed him. Clark meant to knock him away, not through two walls. By the time he realized what he'd done, "Scott Atkinson" was a heap covered in plaster a night security guard appeared through the holes he'd left.

The guard hadnt seen what knocked him through the walls, but he'd seen Clark... and Chloe Sullivan tied to a chair, the only true witness to these events.

She'd been called in by Maggie Sawyer twice and, both times, had been found to be "in shock." But shock didn't last too long and, eventually, Chloe was going to be asked to give an account of the events that led to Scott Atkinson's death. She'd been in Met Gen all week, under psychiatric care, according to Dr. Emil Hamilton. But, without commiting her to Belle Reve, Hamilton couldn't hold onto that. She'd been released tonight with a bandage on her throat and a clean bill of health.

Clark had been questioned already. But he refused to speak about what happened to the man who was not really Scott Atkinson. He didn't even know his true name or his family or their crest and it tore him up. However little information he gave, Sawyer nust have picked up on that and was trying to get Chloe Sullivan to speak. And there was only so much tapdancing they could do around the Kandorians. Emil had made it seem a human had died. That was all he could do. But, even in this world of heroes, there was the law of ordinary men. And that was one thing they couldn't brush off now.

It wasn't often a man was killed this way, even in Metropolis, so close to Smallville.

"You could just escape," Oliver said lowly. "Just leave, just be the hero without the man."

"No," Chloe said hotly. "If I hadn't been captured this wouldn't be an issue. Listen, Kal-El may be the hero the world needs. But Clark Kent is my best friend." She met Clark's eyes. "I'm not letting my best friend go down for protecting me."

"Even if they got him," Oliver argued, "he could escape in a second."

"And be what? An outsider:? We can avoid all this. I just need to..."

"Lie?" Clark turned on her.

"You think I want to?" Chloe moved to stand toe to toe with him.

"And what would you tell them? That a freak tornado picked him up? You were tied to a chair. I was standing there. I know how this looks and sooner or later, they're going to come after me."

"But I can find an explanation. I know there's something. There's always something. I've covered up before and..."

"Exactly. And it stops here. I'm done." He took a deep breath. "I'm coming out."

"Over this?"

"Over what else? If it's not this, it'll be something else."

"You're crazy."

"They might think that at first, but when I show them what I can do..."

"They'll put you in a cage."

"Well, maybe I need to be," he growled.

"Whoa!" Oliver stepped between them. "Listen, Clark, I know you've been a bit... off this year. Hell, I was on the dark side of the tracks for a while, myself, but that's no reason to throw it all away."

"I'm not lying anymore."

"Then say nothing," Chloe insisted. "And I'll say nothing. We can just..."

"You say nothing and you'll get implicated with me. They can make you testify..."

"Not if..." Chloe grew silent. Clark could see her wheels turning and his eyes narrowed.

"If you're thinking up a lie, just stop it now. I won't let you..."

"Okay!" Oliver put his hands up. "We all just need to sleep on this. The world opens for business in twelve hours and I have a legion of lawyers. We can figure out something." He turned to Chloe. "Babe?"

Clark twitched just a little as he rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

"Just come to the penthouse. We'll get some Thai and..."

"No." Chloe tore away. "I need to see Emil. I have to make sure there's nothing left of his DNA to raise suspicion and..." She suddenly took a deep breath and smiled up at him. "I'm fine. I'll come home and sleep on this right after."

"You're sure?" He leaned in and Clark moved to the door.

"Clark?"

He turned back to Ollie.

"Don't go off and..."

"I won't," he said, his eyes looking everywhere but where Oliver's hand lay on her hip. They landed on Chloe, who quickly looked away. "I'll sleep on this, too."

Of course, he didn't do much sleeping. He paced his dining room until he damned near wore the carpet down. His only distraction was a message from Lois. She said she was half-packed and considering turning down the job in Kenya and could he meet her at the Met Stop for coffee. He suddenly thought of this crazy year and how she was the bright spot, the untainted thing. All the times he thought of telling her and it came back to that. That would be gone soon, if he came out. He had half a mind to tell her before she found out that Clark Kent was The Blur and The Blur was a murderer who put men through walls. He wondered if she'd understand. She might. She seemed to respect him, f*cked up as he was. She wasn't like Chloe. Chloe had to get into everything. Lois might visit him in prison. She might even wait for him faithfully. Chloe... she'd probably try to bust him out, whether he wanted her to or not. She'd probably take down the PD's servers and erase all evidence against him. She might even... show up right now.

He stilled, seeing her behind his screen door. She looked like she had years ago, down to the smile, the red sleeveless shirt, the flippy hair, the low-riding jeans. It felt like it was sophomore year and she'd showed up with pizza and soda to study... except without the pizza. And he doubted those bottles in her hands were soda.

"Little something to take the edge off?" She held up a bottle, then frowned at the label. "Oh, sorry. This one's mine." She held up another, unlabelled and metallic, smiling again. "This bud's for you."

December 21st, 2011

"She didn't want to do it for... She did it to protect me."

"She has done many things to protect you."

"Because of my destiny, because she wanted me to be the hero."

"There is more than just that. I sense..."

"You sense the past. I've become what she wanted. Now she wants me to leave her alone. And I'm finally going to do it."

"If you wish for my advice..."

"You know what? If I wished for the advice of a computer program, I'd ask. Christ!" He pulled at his hair. "You're never there when I want you and, when I just want to be alone, you won't shut up," he finished on a mutter. "I can't believe I'm even having this conversation. You aren't real."

"I am as real as it is possible for me to be."

"You're formless. You haven't live in this world. I can't even see you. What about that is real? You're just..."

The blackness suddenly disappeared and he saw the fortress around him. He stepped back, looking around.

"Jor-El?"

There was silence. The console was dark.

"What? Are you sulking now? Did I hurt your feel..."

"I do not sulk. And I am not formless."

He heard it behind him, not echoing around him. It felt different. He turned slowly.

And he saw him. A long white robe, the crest of the House of El on his chest. His hair was grayer than it had been when he'd seen him, nearly white, his face wider. He could see why his mother had called him Jor-El four years ago. He saw a face that looked nearly like his own staring back at him. He moved closer.

"You cannot touch me," Jor-El said, his eyes nearly sad. "But you can see me when and if you wish."

"I do... wish to, I mean. Why didn't you ever..."

"You didn't ask."

Clark shook his head, chuckling slightly. "You've done lots of other things I didn't ask."

"True." He smiled, just a little. "But I have been learning, correcting, with the help you've even brought me. I only wish for you to listen to my counsel now."

"And what? Refuse to sign her stupid papers? Make her stay? Even if she did... we screwed up, Chloe and I. We made so many wrong turns."

"Perhaps you can learn and correct as well."

"It's too late."

"It's never too late to right a wrong."


PART FOUR

PART SIX


I kept seeing Brando as Jor-El. If you look at him in the Superman movies, he looks like he could be TW's father.