How We Got Here (Part Seven)

PART SEVEN

June 1st, 2010

He leaned down, met her lips. He had to. This was their last night.

He'd barely touched her when she pulled away... or ran away. "Jesus, Clark!"

He nearly fell over, considering he'd been leaning. He caught himself on the table and looked around. "Chloe?" He heard her in the kitchen, heard running water and spitting. He sped to her side, wondering, once again this year, if he really was kind of repulsive. Was it the kissing? Is that why they've hardly ever done it? Sure, either he was with someone or she was with someone, so the opportunity hardly ever...

His face fell as he watched her scrub at her lips. She was with someone now. With Oliver. "I'm so sorry," he said miserably. "I mean, it was just a thing. Like how you kissed me the last time you said something like that. It felt... like a kiss moment. That was all. I wasn't trying to..."

"It's fine," she gurgled, spitting again, then wiping her mouth. "Just kind of like kissing a battery."

"Oh, Jeez..." He took her chin in his hands. "I forgot." He stared at her lips. "Does it hurt?"

"Not more than mild chapping or... too much tabasco sauce." She smiled ruefully.

"Yeah. It's not so bad." He rubbed at her bottom lip, then found himself leaning again. Damn it. He pulled back. He had to stop this.

"Anyway, you... you didn't have to kiss me," she said, turning away. "I didn't mean to make it look like I wanted you to. "

"Oh, me neither," he said quickly. "I think it was just the moment and I had this flashback kind of thing and you just felt all..." Jesus, he was a babbling drunk. "I didn't mean it like that. I only..."

She moved to the table, her back to him. "No. I get it. But I meant... it's our last night and, if you're going somewhere, then... then we should go together, make a night of it." She turned suddenly and smiled so widely, he felt sort of lightheaded. "Like I said, it's the last ride of Clark and Chloe and..." She moved to him, gripped the front of his T-shirt. "Let's do something crazy. Come on!"

"Like what?" She was kind of hard to follow tonight, but he found himself smiling, enjoying the feel of her and the smiles, so much smiling tonight, and the way she was biting her lip and he wondered if kissing was crazy enough for her because he really wanted to... "Stupid Oliver," he muttered.

She let him go suddenly. "What about him? Because this isn't like... I mean, he has nothing to do with this. This is a you and me night and... That's all there is to it." She took a deep breath. "AnIthinkweshouldgotovegas." At least that's what he heard.

"Huh?"

She took another breath and looked down for what seemed like an hour. "I think... you and me should just... go to Vegas." She looked up, finally, and smiled again. He wasn't so focused on her lips this time and he noticed something. That smile wasn't meeting her eyes.

"You want to go to Vegas? Why? It's late and..."

"I know," she said quickly. "But Vegas never sleeps." She tilted her head and smiled wider. "I mean, they say New York doesn't, but they have it wrong. It's all night, Clark, so our last night can go on forever. We can get some prime rib and play some slots and... who knows?" She nodded to herself. "Yes. We absolutely have to go to Vegas."

"Are you... okay?"

"Me? Great. I mean, as great as I can be on our last night. And that's exactly why this has to be the best, craziest, most..."

"Chloe, I don't know." He stared at her. There were these flashes where she seemed so much like the Chloe he knew before, the Chloe he wanted to have this last night with, but there was a tension in her. "I mean, we're not supposed to leave town and..."

"Like they'd know. We'll zip in and out and be back by dawn," she said... and quickly again. Almost too quickly.

He sighed. "Listen, it's late. I'm kind of tired and..."

"Claaaark," she groaned, grabbing his arm and dragging him with her back to the dining room. "That sounds like sober talk. And I don't want to hear it on our drunken, crazy, last night." She picked up his bottle and uncapped it, dangling it in front of his face. "In history," she added. "Ever," she tacked on, staring up at him with the widest, saddest eyes he'd ever seen on her. He took the bottle and she grinned, picking up her own, clinking it against his. "Yay."

He took a long slug, as did she. The warmth spread through him again and he closed his eyes. Vegas might not be so bad. Last time he'd been there, he hadn't even done much, except get illegally married in this cheap, little chapel with no real scruples about checking IDs. No slots. No prime rib, which sounded really good right now. He couldn't do much. He'd been seventeen and drugged up on red rocks and with Alicia... Alicia. She was gone. And he wasn't sure he'd ever really let her know how he felt, at least not sober. He made a mental note to tell Chloe, first thing tomorrow, how badly his life was going to suck in a cage without her. Life was too short.

He opened his eyes and stared down at her as she took another slug off her bottle. "You really wanna go to Vegas?"

She quickly put it down and pulled on his free arm again. "Please, Clark?" She tilted her head. "I'll be your best friend."

He chuckled. "You already are."

She blinked up at him. "Yeah? Still?"

"Always," he whispered.

"Well, then..." Her voice sounded sort of choked and he wondered if she'd swallowed wrong. But she seemed okay as she plucked the bottle out of his hands, capped it, and stuck it in her gargantuan purse. She lifted it over her head and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Let's get out of here."

December 21st, 2011

"You could have just left."

"Just left?" She gave a bitter sort of laugh. "Come on, Clark. In our world, you either fake your death or actually die. Keep up. I mean, I didn't want to start some trend. Best to do it like you do in Smallville. Just..."

"You could have told me you wanted to leave. You could have told Oliver or Lois or anyone. You didn't have to..."

"From what I recall, none of you were speaking to me or each other at the time. And, anyway, I didn't want to have you give me some bullshit speech about how you needed me and I was a hero and pull on my chains..."

"What do you mean by..."

"Oh, what am I thinking?" She leaned back in her chair and took another long gulp. "You wouldn't have spouted that then. That week, I was deceitful, I was a control freak, I was even... what did you say?" She smiled tightly. "A dirty, little tease."

"I was angry. You tricked me and..."

"I don't even care." She sighed. "It was hard to keep track of your opinion of me that year. It changed on a pretty much weekly basis. The point is I wasn't really given the choice to leave. I was only given an opportunity," she said, enunciating the word carefully. "God, I'm drunk already." She shook her head with another mirthless laugh. "And I took it, I needed to do something just for me. I never really thought you'd hunt me down out of spite." She raised the bottle to her lips again, glaring at him.

"It wasn't spite," he said, holding her gaze. "I told you once I'd never stop looking for you. That didn't stop with Davis."

"Davis? You really do want to drag out the ancient history books tonight."

"Well, it comes up." He took a swig of his own bottle and grimaced. It really was gross. "It's the first time you left me."

She slapped her own bottle on the table. "If you're going to dredge this up, then get it right. I left for you." She leaned over the table. "I went with him for you."

"Are you sure you didn't do it for you? I mean, what exactly happened in those seedy motel rooms, Chloe?" Her eyes got wide, really wide. At that moment, he knew it was the worst thing he could have asked, but he was glad he had. At least now he knew for sure.

"Is this what you think of me?" she nearly screamed. Her bottle torpedoed toward his head. Not that it would do much damage, but a twenty dollar bottle of whiskey on his budget was nothing to be wasted. Thanks to his reflexes, not exactly dulled tonight, he caught it with hardly a drop spilled.

"What was I supposed to think?" He nearly slammed the bottle down before he thought better, calming himself and gently placing it in the middle of the table. "He went after you for almost a year," he began slowly, "and the ink isn't even dry on your divorce papers before you go off with him and his... stupid chin."

"His chin wasn't stupid. It was... nicely dimpled."

He slapped the table. "So you were attracted to him!"

"Oh, I get it. He was hot and interested in me. Is that all it takes, Clark? I'm so unattractive, I just jump at the first guy to show interest in me."

"I never said you were unattractive, but you know what?" He straightened in his chair. "Yes. You do. You just jump into some relationship without even thinking of the fact that there's someone else going through hell with the thought of you waiting for him and you're off..."

"Listen, Jimmy said some pretty nasty things and..."

"What nasty things? He was all shy and telling you to call him James and..."

"What? He was cursing me out, Clark."

He was pretty lost now. What did Jimmy cursing her out have to do with...

"I knew he was right about Davis by then," she said sadly, "but I figured, after the emails he sent me, he'd rather I stay away. I didn't know he was dealing with addiction. If I'd known... I don't know what I would have done."

He caught on, realizing he was a bit behind. He'd been thinking of himself, stuck in the Phanto Zone with the taste of her still on his lips only to come back and watch her flirt with some man-boy that she called Jimmy and that called himself James. And why had he even thought of that? He wondered if his mind really was getting clouded. He'd been fine with Jimmy. He got it, why she wanted someone like him. But Davis...

She shook her head. "I really don't know if I would have done anything different. I had to go with him. I had to get Davis away from you. I had to stop him from becoming the monster, stop those black-outs."

June 2nd, 2010 (12:26 am)

There were blanks, moments he couldn't quite get to, filled with liquor... or whatever the hell it was he was drinking. But there were moments that seemed just a little clearer, sharper, between slugs off that bottle. He remembered running with her in the desert and stopping at a deep crevice. He remembered her gripping his neck just a little tighter as he jumped it and even tighter when they were over the cracked earth, but still not touching ground for what seemed like minutes.

"Chloe, I think I'm flying," he said, a second before he hit the dirt, rolling to keep himself under her.

He remembered her rising up over him. twisting her neck with a crack. "It felt more like falling," she said with a groan. "You okay?"

"Me? Totally fine."

"Or totally drunk," he heard her mutter.

He'd giggled. "Tha's the point, right?"

"It seemed like a good idea till I hitched this ride." She got up, dusting herself off. "Any chance we can call a cab out here?"

He sat up. "You're right. I dropped us. I'm such a loser," he moaned. "Maybe we should, like, wait here till I'm not so drunk and go home. I'm so sor..."

"I was kidding." She smiled suddenly "I know I'm safe with you. Now let's..."

"No you aren't." He shook his head and looked up at her. "Like, I pushed you. 'Member that?"

"Clark, you were on the red stuff. I don't..."

"But I do stuff I wanna on it and I don't want you to think I wanna do that. I never wanna push you, Chloe. I just wanted to..." God, what did he want? It was like a mixture of dominance and standing over her and marking his territory like a dog with that symbol. "I'm such a dick," he moaned. "I'm so sorr..."

"Clark, this is not the night to be sorry." She grasped his hand.

He didn't need it, but he got up, holding onto it. "Chloe, you don't get it. This is like... before with us and I wanted it to always be like before and I've been..."

"We've both been a lot of things this year," she said. "But tonight's not about that. Okay?"

"How are you such a better drunk?" he moaned, falling just a little into her. "You have all this stuff to say and it's cooler than my stuff to say."

She placed a hand against his chest. "Don't get mushy, now," she said with a smile and a grunt, putting him right. "Come on. Night's not over," she glanced at her watch, "even if it's technically morning."

He glanced at her watch too. On her hand. Which was still on his chest. And rubbing a little. "It's morning?" The thought made him sad, like the sun would rise and this Chloe that smiled and touched him would leave with the night.

"Only after midnight. Plenty of fun to be had." She glanced down at her hand and quickly removed it. "Sorry."

"Don't be." He wondered just how much of Old Chloe he could have, because Old Chloe used to kiss him. She'd just do it, out of the blue, a bunch of times. He wondered what she'd do if he did it to her for once. Maybe push him because she had a stupid boyfriend. Maybe he was imagining this energy between them and she didn't want him now.

He inhaled sharply as her hands slid to his shoulders. She glanced up and it seemed kind of like an invitation.

"Are you ready?"

"Only if you are," he said, thinking this time, he'd...

"Then hoist me up, Big Guy. We got bright lights and souls to set on fire and all that."

"Huh?"

"Vegas? Elvis quotes?" She shook her head and laughed. "Boy, you are gone."

"Not gone enough," he said miserably, gesturing to her bag. "Why don't you gimme that bottle?"

She unzipped her bag, then looked up at him warily. "You sure you're okay with more?"

"We're almost there. There's a freeway that way." He jerked his head to the left. "I'll follow it and stop trying any fancy flying moves."

She handed him the bottle with a sideways glance. "You mean falling moves."

"I still think I flew," he said, taking a long gulp.

He didn't remember much, but he must have got them there safe because she didn't seem to have a scratch on her when they were on the dance floor, which was the next mental rest stop he reached. Some club with a long line. He vaguely remembered leaping the velvet ropes with her as the guards didn't seem into letting people that looked like obvious Kansians in.

But they were in now and dancing. And boy, was she slippery. Every time he grabbed her, she was swaying away. He wished this club would play something slow, then she'd have no choice but to...

He grinned as the song changed, something slow enough that there could be touching and lots of it. He was, apparently, a touchy drunk. But she wasn't. She was about three feet away and staring at him like he was just a little bit nuts as he held out his hand.

"Thought you wanted to dance," he yelled over the bass, that managed to thump, even slowly.

She rolled her eyes and took his hand. "Dancing was your idea," she yelled back. "I wanted to hit the casino. There's this one I thought you might..."

He jerked her in, wrapping his arm around her waist. "It's totally lame even if you win. They don't have real coins dropping down."

She stared up at him. "They don't?"

"Nah. they give you these cards and it makes jingling noises, but it's not as cool."

"How do you know this?"

"Bart made me stop here a bit ago. Said he needed my help on a mission."

She smirked. "I don't remember a Vegas Mission."

"There wasn't one. He wanted me to spot him a twenty because his atm card had run out and I was the only one that could get there quick enough."

She chuckled. "Such a brat."

"He's not so bad. He gave me sixty back." She chuckled again and seemed to melt into him, leaning her head on his chest, which was nice. "I'm having a good time," he said after a while softly - so softly she might not have heard it if her head wasn't tucked right under his.

"Yeah. Me, too." But she didn't sound like it. She sounded sort of choked and he distinctly heard a sniff.

He pulled back, his hand moving to her face, lifting her chin. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I just..." She stared off to the side, then her eyes landed back on him. "Maybe I've missed you. Maybe this was a bad idea. Clark, this entire night..."

"Is awesome," he cut in. "Listen, we don't hafta dance. We can go to a casino."

She sniffled and shook her head. "You said it was lame and, besides, I can't keep this up. I need to tell you..."

"No." The night couldn't end. It just couldn't. "I know this one, this old one. I was there a long time ago, before I was even old enough to be here. It was a crappy place. I bet they couldn't even afford to change to those stupid cards. I mean, they didn't even check our IDs and they married us."

She stiffened and pulled back. "You mean you and Alicia?" She stared at him hard. "That casino with the lazy chapel? Is that where you want to take me?"

"Is that too weird?" It should be weird. This was the place he'd married, though not legally, Alicia, who he'd been crazy about. And this was Chloe, who'd been the best constant in his life. Bringing her there was like an insult to both of them. "You're right. It's too weird."

"No. It's like a sign," she said, staring off.

"Huh?"

She shook herself. "I said... you read my mind." She smiled again, so suddenly and so brightly he wondered why, and why she lied. His hearing wasn't dulled. He heard what she said.

"Why's it a sign?" he asked, not letting go of that. There was something in her eyes at that moment, something not like the Chloe who touched him and smiled for real.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times. "I mean that we need to go there, Clark." She smiled again. It was a small one, but it seemed real. "It's just where I wanted us to be." And that seemed true.

And what could he do, right then, but what she wanted?

December 22nd, 2011 (12:01 am)

"It wasn't all about me," he said levelly, unable to let it go.

"What?" That far away look in her eyes vanished.

"Davis," he said. "It wasn't all about protecting me. You had other reasons."

She glared at him and grabbed her bottle. "A few naughty dreams don't mean I was going to..."

"Naughty dreams?"

"God, why did I say that?" She squeezed her eyes shut. "I can't control what I dream, anyway. The point is, I went with him for you. That was why."

"And what if he was the why?" He leaned over the table. "Emil told me a few things before he defected. He told me you were meeting with him just before you left with Davis, trying to find ways to isolate the monster from the man. You wanted to save him."

"So did you. You came up with the black K. Does that mean you wanted to f*ck him?"

"You can't compare the two," he said hotly. "We weren't drawn to each other like you two."

"That was Brainiac. He drew Davis to me and me to him. Without that, he'd have been nothing but some nice paramedic I saw sometimes. It's not my fault Davis wouldn't let go of that."

"Nice paramedic?" Clark scoffed.

"I didn't know that the monster had affected the man so... Whoa, Whoa. Wait... Back up a minute."

"I didn't know either," Clark said miserably. "Maybe he could never be a nice paramedic, maybe after all those years, it was hard to break free. I sometimes feel sorry for him. If he'd been separated before, maybe he'd have been a better man. I mean, we had no way of knowing if..."

"No! You know what? I made my peace with Davis a while ago I'm not about to hit myself over the head for something I had no way to know again." She lifted her bottle to her lips, then stopped, pushing it away. "I want to go back to Emil. You said he defected."

"Well, you're the one who's keeping tabs. I thought you still knew everything."

"I never said I knew everything. I said I heard things."

"Fine. Emil calls himself Overmind now and he's trying to bring back Brainiac, so we're not exactly pals. Okay?"

She gripped his bottle. "You said you got this from him." She slid it toward herself. "How can you get this from him if you aren't playing in the same sandbox anymore?"

He stiffened in his seat. He was caught now. He was getting a little loose in the lips, considering that bottle didn't give him any reason to be. "I never said I got this from him."

"Yes, you did. I asked you where you got it and you said...?"

"I said I still talk to Emil. I saw it as a subject change." He shrugged. "I didn't lie about that. I talked to him last week... right after I blew up his lair. Got his little cyberpunks turned in. Didn't get him, though, with his damned cybernetic arm. I think it gives him some kind of advant..."

He caught the other bottle just before it flew at him.


PART SIX

PART EIGHT