How We Got Here (Part Twelve)

December 22nd, 2011

It was time to lay it all out, whether it helped or hurt. "Do you know what I miss most? How we'd talk. After every bad thing that went down, there you were."

"Like a lackey," she snarled.

"No. Like a... wife. Damn it, Chloe!" He moved to her, took her by the arm. "You were a wife long before we ever said I do in front of a couple celebrity impersonators. At the end of every f*cked up day, I had you to help me feel good about what I did, even when I didn't want to. I had you to tell me I was doing my best, that I would be something great someday, that I'd save us all. And maybe I never saw it then and maybe it's too late to see it now, but... I needed that. I needed that then and I need it now. And you left with what I needed. You just left." He felt bereft, just saying the words. He thought of Jor-El and all he'd said about this woman, about how empty his life was now and he felt that emptiness so keenly now that...

"My God! You'll say anything to get your way," she said with narrowed eyes.

"This isn't me trying to get my way," he said, letting a growl of impatience creep into his voice as he let her go and paced away. "This isn't me dangling carrots. This is me telling the truth. And you know what?" He turned on her. "Even if this was me dangling some carrot, why would it tempt you to stay? You want to be gone, right?"

"Damned right I do."

"Then why argue with me about whether it's true or not? Just tell me you don't feel the same way. Don't make out like I'm lying. Just say you don't feel the same way and..."

"No. I don't even want to talk about this anymore."

"Because you can't say it," he said, moving closer, "and you know why you can't."

She stared at him, her eyes widening. "My turn," she said loudly, striding away and into the dining room.

He followed her. "What?"

She moved to the table and turned, leaning against it. "You wanted to hear all about Chloe Sullivan's great escape, right?"

June 6th, 2010

Clark sped through the streets, dodging bicyclists and cars and pedestrians and hating every second of it. He shouldn't even be bothering. He shouldn't care what she did. They were done now, weren't they? Yet, here he was, in front of the ninth precinct straining his ears for her voice, sifting through dry-voiced dispatchers and crying men saying they didn't do it and calm, measured tones saying they "didn't see much. I was tied up."

He opened his eyes. "Chloe." He followed that voice.

"So you've said, Miss Sullivan," another voice answered. "But, in all that time, we need to know if you noticed anything... different."

He stopped, squeezed his eyes shut, then sped on, up several flights of stairs, past angry people who dropped their stacks of folders with loud expletives. It was starting already. They were trying to get to him through her and he wouldn't let them. If they wanted to deal with him, then they could deal with him.

"I told you I was tied up. Would you be keeping a sharp eye on things if you were bound and gagged?"

He stopped, zeroing in on a blue door. He would have admired her if he wasn't so f*cking angry. It was amazing how she could sidestep the truth without saying even one lie.

"I understand, Miss Sullivan. But you have to agree that the manner in which Mr. Atkinson died is suspicious, at least."

He strode toward the door, past one man that tried to ask him who he was and another that tried to tell him he wasn't allowed in there.

"I... I don't know what to tell you."

"Miss Sullivan..."

He threw open the door. "It's Mrs. Kent."

Chloe and Detective Sawyer looked up from the table. Chloe stood. "Clark, don't..."

"No." He held up a hand to her and turned to detective Sawyer. "You know what? You can't just drag people downtown when they didn't even do anything except get kidnapped."

Maggie Sawyer's eyes widened. "We didn't drag Miss S..." She turned to Chloe. "Mrs. Kent?"

Chloe sunk down in her chair. "We weren't telling people," she said, staring at the floor.

Clark thought of the marriage, of why she did it, and wondered that it wasn't the first thing out of her mouth. As pissed as he still was, he hoped that at least protected her from being grilled. "Yes. She's my wife and you can't make her..."

"Clark!" Chloe stood. "You need to stop..."

"No. I'm talking." He turned to Sawyer. "You can't make my wife..."

"I didn't make your wife come down here," she said, standing as well. "She came voluntarily. I've got men attempting to get you to do the same, but we couldn't track you down."

"Well, I'm here, so deal with me." He pulled her up. "Let her go."

Sawyer crossed her arms. "Fine. I'll deal with the both of you right now and finally get this off my desk. Just tell me what you know about Atkinson's abilities."

Chloe pulled her arm from Clark's limp hand as he stared at Sawyer.

Sawyer sighed. "Just tell me now." She turned to Chloe. "Are you sure you didn't see anything?"

Chloe stared back at her. "I told you. If he had any abilities, I didn't see them. I'm sorry."

Sawyer nodded and turned to Clark. "And you? Did you see the guy bend metal or go invisible or... turn into a bat?"

Clark stared numbly back. "Uh..."

"I promise I won't have you committed. Apparently," she said through her teeth, "this happens a lot in this county."

"I... I mean, I didn't see him do anything weird or..."

Sawyer rolled her eyes. "Here's a clue for you two, a guy that runs through two out of three walls isn't normal." She bent to gather up her files. "I know you Smallville types are used to it, but I don't like dealing with meteor mutants." She straightened. "Married, huh?"

Chloe nodded. "Just a... bit ago."

Sawyer turned to Clark. "Just a hint, that shut up, Honey, I'm talking sh*t will probably get real old real fast." She patted Chloe on the arm. "Good luck with him." She gestured to the door. "You can go."

"Thank you." Chloe pushed Clark to the door. "Sorry we couldn't be more help."

"Thank God I'm a lesbian," she muttered as the door closed behind them.

Clark shook himself out of his stupor. "A meteor fr..."

"Not here," Chloe hissed, pulling him to the elevator.

He let himself be pulled until he realized who was doing the maneuvering... like usual. He snatched his arm away as the doors closed. "A meteor freak?"

"I was trying to tell you."

"Well, what the hell did you tell them?"

"I didn't tell them anything," she sighed, pressing a button. "They seemed to get that idea from the second autopsy, from what I heard."

"Emil," he breathed.

"Apparently, there were traces of meteor rock in his system."

"Like hell there were." He moved to the row of buttons.

"What are you going to do? Run up there and tell them Emil's a liar and get him thrown in jail?"

He stopped. "You told him to..."

"No," she cut in. "I didn't. When I got that bottle from him, I told him I wanted you to have a chance to relax before it all went down. I didn't know he'd do this."

"You don't sound disappointed."

"Why should I be? And why should you be? You had no problem with him hiding that man's true DNA. Why is this different?"

He didn't answer. "So why didn't you play it up? I could see you concocting a master lie after that night, all about his freakish strength and how..."

"Well, I was trying not to lie," she hissed. "You're the one who said you didn't want me lying for you ever again."

"Let's add something to that," he snarled as the doors slid open. "I don't want you marrying me ever again, either."

"Gladly," she said from behind him as he moved to the large doors in front. "But let me point out that it worked."

He strode down the wide steps in front. "How did it work? They think it was meteor related, anyway."

"Well, if you hadn't busted in all 'That's my wife. Let her go,' they might have questioned you separately and you would have said something to incriminate yourself and this thing might have been dragged out longer," she said, still dogging his steps.

"This thing?" He stopped and turned to her at the bottom. "This thing left a man dead."

"A man who was trying to take over the world, Clark," she hissed, standing on step above him. "It's not like you snuffed out the life of a harmless kitten."

"I never wanted to snuff out any life. Ever."

"You didn't mean to." She placed a hand on his cheek. "We both know that. Clark, if you had no powers and this man had died in some very normal way, it would be ruled as self-defense after what he'd done and no one would be after you. The only reason any of this hiding was necessary is because of what they might find if they looked too closely, because of what you are. And what you are, even with this, is a hero. I see that. Why don't you?"

He very nearly leaned into her palm before he caught himself. "I'm not into these pep talks anymore," he said, moving down the street.

"You know what?" She was still dogging him. "Fine. As much as you hate it, now it's over. They're leaving us alone."

"Don't use the word us about us. There's no us and there never will be again. Not after what you did."

"Clark, you need to understand where I was coming from. I didn't know Emil would do this and I needed to keep you safe and..."

"And this time you went too damned far." He moved away down the street. "You f*cking married me. This is my life you messed with. You had no right..."

"I'm not saying I did, but I'm not sorry. If Emil hadn't done what he had, then that would be the only thing keeping them from making me the star witness against Clark Kent: Alien."

"It's not what you did. It's how you did it. You..."

"If you mean getting you drunk," she said behind him. "If I hadn't..."

"It's not that and you know it. You made me think you..." He stopped, both talking and walking. He could not, would not, give her that power.

"Clark, I'm all for hashing this out. But let's do it off the street. Come on."

He heard the jangling of keys and turned back to her, watched her climb the steps to the Watchtower. He wanted to speed off right then and screw hashing it out, but he found himself following her through the doors and into another elevator.

"Security's low right now," she sighed, pushing the PH button. "I need to get the body scan back up and running, but I've been too busy."

"Damned right you have," he grumbled, wishing he'd left. He didn't want to hash this out. He didn't want her getting them married off in Vegas swept under a rug after some heartfelt talk. He wanted to be angry. And away. And, after that night, he was pretty sure being angry was the only thing that could keep him away. Because she was his wife. Maybe it was just a piece of paper, in the end... with dodgy dates, even. But she was legally his wife and he didn't even have a wedding night to show for it. And, after four years of hands-off, he'd had his hands in places they'd never been and she had his name and he wanted...

"Clark, I get it," she said, turning away from the rows of buttons. "I get why you're mad about... how I did it." She moved closer and he wondered if she did. "Maybe I was sober."

He tensed up, realizing she really didn't.

"But why does that make a difference? It was all true. It could have been our last night and getting married was the craziest possible thing to do and you didn't seem to mind at the time."

"Only because you kept..." touching me, kissing me, making me think we were finally... He wouldn't say it. If she didn't get it, that was for the best. She had enough power over him as it was. "You kept acting like things were... like they were before," he finished, thinking it seemed safer.

"Why can't they be like that?" She moved even closer and his hands fisted at his sides. "Clark, we were practically joined at the hip once. We were closer than... siblings."

He balked at the word, thinking of those fuzzy memories of last night. "Siblings don't kiss with tongue, Chloe."

She drew back. "You were drunk. You just had me... confused with someone else." The doors slid open and she moved off the elevator. "I'm willing to forget that part of it if you are." She gave him a shaky smile as she pressed on the stained glass doors. "We can be close again, Clark. I really meant that. I've missed you and missed us and how we were and..." She moved inward as the doors opened. "I know we can go back."

He followed her in, his brow furrowed, wondering how they could ever go back and still thinking about her earlier words. "Who do you think I had you confused with?"

"Well... Lois, maybe." She tossed her keys on the desk. "I mean, we're related. There are some similarities. I mean, I'm not so tall, but we both like our coffee and a good mystery to unravel and..."

"And you're both stubborn," he cut in, finding himself smiling. "Sometimes it felt like I was dealing with you all over again, how she never gives me any ground, always so guarded."

She turned, smiled as well. "And we both like tall, muscled men who with a stubborn streak and," she glanced at his arms, "nice, big arms." She suddenly paled and backed into the desk. "I mean... I... I mean, I'm sorry for how that night went. And I understand if you thought I was taking advantage of you being drunk. But you have to know, I didn't do it, no matter how much I wanted..." Her face went from pale to flushed and he found himself moving toward her, pure, male satisfaction coursing through him. "I mean, not wanted... I... You know, I'd had a few drinks, too, so I didn't really want..."

"Chloe?"

She seemed to be trying to take another step back, but the desk was already there and she seemed to be trying to lean against it. Her palms slipped twice before she succeeded in trying to look casual. "Uh-huh? What's up?"

"Chloe?"

He froze. That wasn't his voice. It was coming from the door.

They both turned, seeing Oliver standing in the doorway. Not standing, exactly. He was swaying. Then he was stumbling, right to Chloe.

"Oliver? Have you been dr..." She bowed backward over the desk as he caught her around the waist, kissing her soundly. Clark was too gut-founded to react... until it seemed to go on for years and his fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides and he was damned near ready to pull him off her until Ollie broke it off, looking over his shoulder at Clark.

"Oh, sorry, Boy Scout. Didn't mean to step on your toes." He shook his head. "What am I thinking? Kissing another man's wife."

December 22nd, 2011

She moved to the table and turned, leaning against it. "You wanted to hear all about Chloe Sullivan's great escape, right?"

"Yes, but..."

"Perhaps we need to start with not what I did, but why I did it."

"Because you found out about what I did with your memories, which I already apologized for. Now why don't you just say it if you're so..."

"No, you actually didn't, but let's let that slide for now so I can point out that not everything is about you," she finished loudly. "Maybe I left for me. I left... myself." Her voice broke, then grew quiet. "I liked being Chloe Sullivan once," she said softly after a while. "I liked who she was and who she could be. Then... I don't know when things changed. Maybe when I became a meteor freak, maybe when Lex fired me, maybe the minute I put on a headset and started living for everyone but me or the minute I walked into a hospital room and... Yeah. Maybe that was when." She grew quiet.

"What was when?"

"I stopped seeing who I could be anymore," she said blankly. "I just saw days, each the same as the other, stretching out into infinity. Staring at monitors, typing away, headset permanently attached to my ear and... I was just stuck. Then he came."

"Who?" Clark moved toward her. "Who made you do this?"

She shook her head and moved away, toward the couch. "No one made me do anything. He just made it easy. He made it possible."

"Who?" he asked tightly, standing above her.

She sat down and looked up at him. "Does it even matter? It was my decision and I don't regret it. I had to start over. If I could start over, then I could go back to being that girl with a future. I could even write again if I was just... anyone but me."

"You could be yourself and write," he said impatiently.

"No, I couldn't. Chloe Sullivan had a spotty history. Chloe Sullivan was surrounded by secrets. Chloe Sullivan was too damned tied up with..."

"Stop talking about yourself like you aren't you."

"But I'm not me. At least not that me. I am... everything I wanted to be now," she said, her voice quavering. "E.J. Cochran is a journalist and a damned good one and she lives in a converted lighthouse and she gardens when she's at home and tries interesting restaurants when she's away and she's actually taking a pottery class even though she's terrible at it because she's normal. She has hobbies, you know, those things normal people do in their spare time. And Chloe Sullivan couldn't have that because she never had any spare time." She swiped at her eyes. "She's a good person. A normal person. Two things Chloe Sullivan could never be."

"Chloe Sulliv.... You were a good person."

"No offense, Clark, but you don't know Chloe Sullivan as well as you think. She was pathetic and lonely and a bad wife and a control freak and a m-m-m..." She suddenly burst into tears.

He moved to the couch, sat beside her, wanted so badly to pull her in. "Chloe?"

"Don't call me that," she sniffed, shaking. He did pull her in, then, even as she stiffened. "And don't touch me. I don't want to be touched."

"Tough," he said, holding her against him until she went limp, sobbing into the shield on his chest. His suit had taken a hell of a beating tonight, covered in 7-up, whiskey, blood, and now tears. "You were always the best person I knew. I told you that once."

"That was before," she sobbed.

"Before what?"

"I have secrets, too, Clark. Ones you don't even know and..." She broke off, shaking her head against his chest.

"Then tell me them. We don't have any lies tonight."

"I can't," she breathed, pulling away.

He didn't let her. He kept one arm at her back and tipped her chin up. "Chloe, you can tell me anything. This was supposed to be... that kind of night." More than that, this was them and a few years estranged, then apart, didn't change the fact that Chloe Sullivan and Clark Kent had no secrets between them,

She looked everywhere but at him. "Even if this changes how you see me? Forever?" She let out a bitter laugh. "Bet you'll sign those papers with superspeed then."

"Chloe, it's not like you killed someone."

She laughed again hoarsely, then met his eyes as her laughs devolved into sobs. "Yes, it is. It's exactly like that."

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