How We Got Here (Part Ten)

June 2nd, 2010

"You planned this," he said, barely breaking the kiss.

She made a tiny noise, not even nearly a word, as her eyes slid open. Her body still seemed so soft against his, her feet still dangling, bumping against his ankles.

"This was always going to happen," he said dazedly as he bent to her lips again. She stiffened a little and he held tight. "Chloe, it's okay. I get it."

Her eyes widened and her head bent backward. "What do you get?"

"That we should forget everything and have this big, poetic last night." He buried his face against her neck and groaned. "Why can't I say prettier things? But I mean... I want this, too."

"This?"

"You know... us. This last night," he said lips moving to her jaw. "I think this was always supposed to happen. I think you knew it more than I did or you wouldn't have shown up like you did." He brushed his lips against her neck.

She swallowed hard. He felt it against his lips. "This wasn't the plan."

"If you say so. But I like how it is now."

Her arms dropped from his neck and she pushed at his shoulders.

He let go this time. "What's wrong?"

"I need a minute." She turned and marched stiffly into the casino, He followed. "What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I..."

"That's what I was wondering," he said behind her. "I thought..."

She turned sharply, her eyes wide, and he realized he wasn't supposed to answer that or be there. "Clark, I said I needed a minute." She craned her neck, looking around. "And I need a drink."

He shook his head, confused now. "You keep pushing at me and... I don't get it."

"This is just a big deal, okay? I mean, we're getting married and, you know, it doesn't have to stick, but it's still... God, where is that waitress?"

"But you were the one that wanted to..."

"Oh, thank God!" She flagged down that not-so-pretty blonde he'd tracked down earlier and grabbed a shot glass off her tray. "Can I have this?"

"Well, it's for..."

She pulled a handful of dollar coins out of her pocket and slapped them on her tray.

The woman looked past her to Clark, then shook her head. "You two need to start ordering ahead."

"Can I have two more, then?"

Clark stared at the floor, saw a red chip and picked it up. He thought it might be some kind of token for one of those famous buffets, but it had 500 on it. He was about to tell Chloe all about it when he saw how still she was, how unflinchingly stiff. He stuffed it in his pocket and moved behind her. "Chloe, if you're changing your mind. I mean, I get that I'm the one who's going away and you don't have to do this for me."

"I don't have to do most of what I do for you. Doesn't mean I don't do it," she said as she downed the shot, then shuddered. "God, I hate vodka." She set the glass on an empty craps table.

"Then why're you drinking it?" he asked kind of miserably.

"I needed a drink," she said, all breath. "In a second, I'll need another. Let's both have one."

She started to dig in her bag, but he stopped her, putting his hands on her shoulders from behind. "I don't want one." And he didn't want her to do stuff she didn't want to do. And if she was running around muttering about what she was doing, maybe he should be, too. And not drinking. "Chloe, we don't have to have some crazy wedding and honeymoon just because..."

"A honeymoon?"

"Well... I was thinking. I mean, isn't this why you dressed all... tight?"

Her shoulders stiffened. "Uh... I only thought..."

He let her go. "No. I get it. This is too much. I mean... I don't need all that. Maybe just write me or..."

She whirled on him. "How am I going to do that when government scientists will probably have you under lock and key? And of course you need a drink. We're about to get married and that's f*cking huge and we really need a drink right now." She sounded nearly shrill and he was wondering if it was just hitting her.

"Chloe, it might not be like that. Maybe they'll understand and in a few years..."

"Clark, coming off a murder charge or at least manslaughter, they're not going to give you points for good behavior. They'll see what you can do and label you dangerous and..." She stopped, breathing heavily. "Maybe this is our last night. Maybe I can't change that, but I'm not going down without a fight after all this time."

He couldn't think of how the hell she meant to fight it, but she sure looked nice talking about it, all flushed and heaving. "God, you're pretty," he blurted, every other thought goign away. Maybe he didn't say it enough because her eyes got all wide again.

"You know what?"

He didn't get a chance to ask what before she grabbed the front of his t-shirt and hauled him down, smashing her lips against his. He thought the last two kisses topped the other seven, but this tenth left them in the dust. He realized that the last two kisses had been mostly him. This was her. Her hands that grabbed his neck and shoulders, her teeth that grazed his bottom lip, her tongue that darted inside once, twice, a full three times before he thought to kiss her back. He did more than think to, he did it, grabbing her hips, pulling her even closer, higher, off the floor. Every sense was heightened. He could feel her toes brush the tops of his sneakers and that hasty breath she sucked in as their lips barely parted and her heartbeat under his hands, even as they dug into her ass. And her breath rasping against his lips like a buzzsaw as... Buzzsaw?

He opened one eye and saw the waitress at their side with her tray, loudly clearing her throat. He broke away quickly, looking to her, but Chloe grasped his chin, dragging his face back to hers.

"Let's do this, Clark. Let's get married."

"Mazeltov, Sugar," the woman said dryly. "You want your shots?"

Chloe turned to her, pulling away from Clark and grabbing two tiny glasses. "Sorry. We were just..."

"Oh, don't worry, Honey. If I still had an ass like yours and a man with lips like that, I'd be distracted, too." She sauntered away with her tray and Chloe stared after her a moment before downing her shot.

She shuddered and turned to him. "Listen, I got off track before and... Whoa!"

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. That's just hitting me. I haven't had much to drink in such a... in the last few hours," she finished quickly. She slapped the shot glass on the craps table next to her other, then turned to the next. "I was just getting cold feet, going all runaway bride, but I'm good now. Or I will be." She downed the next, then exhaled a long breath, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Chloe, maybe this is..."

"Don't start talking crazy about how we shouldn't do this again." She opened her eyes. "This is your last free night and we're pulling out all the stops. Wedding and... honeymoon," she finished, putting the second shot glass in her bag.

"What are you..."

"It's something borrowed," she whispered leaning into him before she moved away. "And my bra is new. You coming?"

December 22nd, 2011

"Clark?" She was snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Are you getting this? Are you even listening to me?"

He drew back. "I'm listening."

She leaned back and sat on the table again. "Just wanted be sure. This was your evil plan, after all, getting me all drunked up and truthful."

He narrowed his eyes. "And what's your evil plan?"

She snorted. "What makes you think I have one?"

"You're going along with this, getting all drunked up, as you said."

"Well, maybe I just need to get drunk." She shrugged. "Maybe I don't have an evil plan." She pulled her legs in, sitting Indian-style on the table. "But I might have an evil hope."

He leaned forward. "And what's that?"

"Allan's coming tomorrow." She stared at him closely. "I want those papers signed." She threw her hands up. "So maybe I hope a little truth, a little working through will put a pen in your hand."

"By then, I'll do what you want," he said carefully.

"You mean you'll sign by tomorrow?"

"Whatever you want."

"You keep saying that. What I want is to sort out all the Chloe messes and start over."

He kept silent for a moment, not about to tell her that he had an evil hope, too, one that what she wanted would change by tomorrow. "I was listening," he said instead. "You think that, if your memories had been intact, you wouldn't have gone through with marrying Jimmy and everything else would be different, too."

She sighed and stared into her bottle. "Well, what happened happened. We can't change it now. But if I'd known what was going on, I'm pretty sure I'd have been suspicious of Davis and that would have taken priority over a wedding. There were other things, things tied to your secret that had me second guessing even before then. I pushed them away because I so wanted it to work with Jimmy, but... Well, add in Brainiac and a horned monster and I would have known the timing was off. I..." She closed her eyes. "I can almost see it, like a slideshow in my head. I tell Jimmy I want to postpone. He asks why, he gets angry, maybe calls it off altogether. I'd be miserable and guilty, but there are more important things to deal with. There always were with Jimmy. We kept hitting that same, damned wall."

"What had you second guessing before I..." He stopped himself.

"Turned my brain into swiss cheese?" she supplied with a sneer. "Just... things. Like how easy it was for me to keep Jimmy out of the loop when he almost found out. How I almost didn't want him in this, not just for his safety, but because... It wasn't his. And I remember Davis and I were sitting at a sidewalk cafe, back when he just a friendly paramedic. I told him that everything with him was so easy, marveling at it, really. I mean, we hardly knew each other then, but there it was. And he asked if I'd ever felt that way with anyone before and I said I had once. He assumed it was Jimmy and... I wanted so bad to answer that it was him, but it wasn't." She stared at him, then back into her bottle. "Anyway, it wasn't right. I only ever felt that connected to... someone I can't be with." She took a long drink.

"What was so great about him?" Clark asked through clenched teeth. "I mean, you take the monster out of the equation and I don't get..."

"Davis? Why do you keep bringing him up? I want to move past..."

"Well, you keep going on about this easy, perfect connection and thwarted love."

"A connection that was formed by Brainiac," she said loudly. "How many times do I have to go over this? Brainiac took those feelings I had for... someone else and just switched them on for Davis."

"Those feelings for who?" he found himself asking, maybe too eagerly.

Her eyes narrowed and she jumped off the table, pacing into the living room. "It doesn't even matter. What I want to know is why this fixation on Davis? You never said a word about Jimmy or Oliver or..." She stopped and rolled her eyes. "Like there were more." She smiled to herself. "At least I have Allan now."

He followed her in. "That guy? He looks like a dork."

"You hardly even looked at him."

"I looked enough." He'd seen glasses, at least.

"Right. While you were glaring at me so hard you almost set my veil on fire? Anyway," she lifted her chin, "Allan takes very good care of himself without the benefit of super powers, thank you. He's hot and he has a British accent."

"Probably sounds like a fussy school marm or..."

"Would you shut up about him? He's perfect."

"Well, you said that about Jimmy and now you're saying..."

"If we're talking truth tonight, then I want to know why you won't let go about Davis."

"And I want to know who else you had this connection with." He wasn't completely stupid. He heard what she said to his father. If she'd just say it to him...

"It doesn't matter."

"If it was enough to draw you to Davis, then it must have been pretty intense."

"It was stupid. I was over it, but it just..."

"You already said it wasn't Jimmy. Come on, Chloe. Who else..."

"It was you, you ass!"

He almost smiled, but ended up glad he caught himself when she went on.

"I held on to you that stupid, rotting schoolgirl crush way past the sell-by date, but that was a long time ago. I'm more than over it. Disgustingly over it. I can't stand the sight of you. Now you." She said, jerking her hand toward him.

He supposed he couldn't bask in his triumph when there wasn't one. What she'd said to Davis had been years ago and what she'd said to his father had been way before that. At least she'd told him. Now it was his turn. "He was stronger than me," Clark said quietly.

"What? Oh, my God, Clark! You were jealous because he could beat you up? Are you in grade school?"

"No. If it came down to it, if Jimmy or Oliver ever hurt you, I could have taken you away. Not him. He had the power to destroy me, at least while the beast was there. He was... stronger. I had to watch you go off with him, wonder where you were and know that, even if I found you, he could still keep you and I couldn't do a damned thing about it. He could take you away. He even did it. And I was... powerless."

June 2nd, 2010

"By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada and the Lucky Sevens Casino and..."

Clark wasn't about to wait for it. He pulled her in by the waist, but she snaked her head around, pecking his cheek. "Chloe," he whined.

"Hey, you drank again," she said against his cheek.

"Well, you made me. I didn't wanna do no more so we could kiss, then you said I looked tense and..."

"You still look tense." She pulled back and patted his cheek. "You need another. Gimme just a second and I'll..."

He grabbed her wrist, grinning. "You're not goin anywhere, Bride. I'm washing out my dirty mouth and then..."

"Clark, I want to talk to Fake Wayne Newton."

His smile dropped. "Why couldn't we get an Elvis?"

"We'll live." She moved away. He followed, damn near pasted to her back and she stopped. "If you wait here, you'll get a treat."

He snorted. "Am I a dog now?"

"Yes." She turned to him with a damned tempting smile and backed away. "Stay. Good boy."

He chuckled as she moved toward the fat man that had married them. He didn't look a thing like Wayne Newton, but he had sung a kind of haunting Danke Schoen as they walked down the aisle, so Clark could forgive him for not being Elvis. She looked back at Clark, then moved in front of him, saying something urgently. He started toward them when a woman dressed as Liza Minelli grabbed his arm.

"You two are just adorable. I think you'll be very happy. Manny and I have a sense about these things."

"Manny?"

"Oh, your minister. My husband. You know I'm also ordained, but people never want to be married by Liza. Low success rate." She shrugged and giggled to herself, then wrapped her long-nailed hand around his arm. "Anyway, we have a honeymoon package if you're interested. Includes one of our gorgeous Lovebird's Suites with complimentary champagne, a fruit basket, and a buffet breakfast from six till noon if..."

"We're fine," Chloe said beside him, grabbing his arm. "Let's go. We can go home and..."

"But I want the Lovebird Suite."

"Clark, you gambled away forty dollars and I only came here with three hundred..."

"But our Lovebird Suite is two hundred for newlyweds," Liza cut in. "An absolute steal. After your wedding expenses, you should have..."

"I lost my money," she said suddenly, throwing up her hands. "Just can't find it. Anyway, we need to go and..."

"No. We don't," Clark cut in. He dug in his pocket and pulled out the red chip. "It's like fate or something."

Chloe stared at the chip. "How did you..."

"I won it."

"No you..."

He pulled her closer and bent down. "I found it. Be cool." He straightened and handed the chip to Fake Liza. "Will this cover it?"

She took it with a large smile. "Mini bar's on us. Manny!"

Fake Wayne appeared at her side.

"Please tell our award winning staff to prepare 305." She said with a gap-toothed grin. "If you two would proceed to the hotel lobby..."

"Sure, Sugar." He pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt. "I need 305 prepped."

"Come on.... um... Sugar." Clark grabbed Chloe's elbow and moved out, giggling. "Award winning staff," he said, chuckling as the doors closed. "Still, they have free champagne. I've hardly ever had champagne. Doesn't do anything for me, but I like the..."

"Clark, we can't get a suite."

"Sure we can. We just did."

"But that... uh.... that chip is someone else's money and we should return it and..."

"Yeah, right. If I go into that casino and ask for the owner of the five-hundred dollar chip, everybody'll be grabbing at it."

"Well... we need to go home. I mean, this night was crazy enough with the wedding and..."

"And the honeymoon," he supplied. "I mean, you said there'd be a honeymoon."

"I know what I said. I just..."

He swept her up and sped down the empty hall. He stopped at a water fountain and put her down. "Wait here."

"Clark..."

"Stay," he said with a grin. "Good girl."

He moved to the water fountain and pressed the button, rinsing and spitting and even dousing his face for good measure before he straightened. He moved back to her and she put her hands up.

"Okay, you shouldn't have done that because I think we need another drink, like a big one."

"In a minute." He took her hands and put them on his shoulders.

"I just think we need a minute. You know, it's after three now and we're pushing it, being out of town this long and..."

"Shhhh." He pressed his forehead against hers. "I didn't get to kiss the bride," he whispered before he did just that.

She was still trying to talk, not that he was hearing any of it. He didn't want to hear about it. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't know where they'd be next week or even tomorrow. Right now was all that mattered and right now, she was his, legally and everything.

"...and if... mmmph... if the cops find we're not home or... mmm... Would you let me talk?"

"Okay." He trailed his lips along her jaw, found her earlobe. It was soft and sensitive and even brushing it lightly turned her words into breathy squeaks.

"Can't... when you... I need to... think."

"Why?"

"Those damn shots," she muttered. "Stop it." He'd have listened, but she was digging her hands into his hair, pulling him even closer.

"Can't stop," he said against her ear. "This is supposed to happen. This was always supposed to happen. Me and you." She didn't say anything, only whimpered as he bit down lightly. The sound shot through his body to settle, pulsing, in his groin. "This was the plan."

"Wasn't," she breathed as he pressed her against the wall. "I swear, I never thought... God, that feels so..."

"I know why it never worked," he said, stopping to pant against her neck. "Not with anyone else. Always you, you help me with everything. Couldn't do this without you."

December 22nd, 2011

"I can't be without you, Chloe," he said, almost wishing he took it back when she started, her eyes widening. He was in it now, though. She wanted the truth and she was gonna get it. "Davis was the only one who ever made that a possibility. See, I could tolerate Jimmy. Jimmy could never take you away from me. I knew it, deep down. I knew that he wouldn't come first. And Oliver... Hell, he kept you in it, always with me, even when I wished you weren't. You were with them and you were still in my life. Davis could have changed that. I don't think I'll ever forgive him for that."

She shook her head. "What the hell are you saying?"

"I'm saying I can't be without you. And I was fine with taking whatever I could have of you... back then, at least."

She backed away from him. "Don't you dare," she hissed. "Don't you make it like I was throwing you scraps when you kept me on the hook since junior high. Why don't you tell me what you really mean, Clark? You mean you wanted me with guys that still kept me on your hook in case you decided you wanted to reel me in. If this was really about you needing some piece of me, then you wouldn't have left."

"I couldn't be around you."

"Oh? I thought you couldn't be without me. Which is it, Clark?"

"It took me a long time to adjust after you left."

"I came back!" she yelled. "You left and, even after you came back, you were still gone!"

"So were you."

"What?"

"You weren't the girl I knew. You weren't the girl I thought you were."

"And who were you? You treated me like an employee, even treated Ollie and John like distant acquaintances. And then with Lois... You were like some different person. Do you know I had to listen to her go on about all the sweet things you do while you barely even looked at me anymore?"

"Chloe..."

"It was different with Lana. At least you still acknowledged my existence, but there you are with my own cousin and it's like... like I stopped existing. Do you know how that felt, looking into the future. I could see it then. I could see you barely tolerating me as some relative of your girlfriend's like we weren't even friends, then treating me like a dispatcher at night and I'd have to hear all about how sweet and wonderful you are and know you'd never again be that way to me."

"It was easy with Lois," he said softly.

"Yeah. You said that. Because I was damaged goods and she was your shiny, new..."

"Because she didn't matter," he cut in.

She shut her mouth, then opened it, then shut it again.

"She wasn't in it," he went on to fill the silence. "If I looked at my past, she was like some... presence. She was there, but not a part of things. So I guess you could say she was undamaged. And I wanted to keep her that way. I wanted something easy and light. But I don't think I really deserved that." He sighed. "You're not the only one who was damaged, Chloe. I shouldn't have blamed you for changing when I did, too. I don't think I realized how much." He moved closer to her. "We're a f*cked up pair, Chloe. We shouldn't have it easy. I shouldn't have been with her any more than you should have been with Jimmy or Oliver or... this guy."

"Allan," she said weakly.

"Or him." He moved even closer, hand brushing her cheek. "Fact is, it was always gonna be you and me."

June 2nd, 2010

"What did you mean by that?" she said suddenly in the elevator.

He turned away from the buttons. "What floor is 305 on?"

"Probably three," she said quickly. "What did you mean by all that back there about me and you and what was supposed to happen and..."

"Oh, yeah." He pressed three and searched his mind. He'd been saying something before that annoyed guy complaining at the front desk butted in, saying something about getting a room, which they were now doing. "Well... yeah. Yeah."

"I mean, you don't..." She shook herself. "That's a hell of a thing to say when you think you're going away for the rest of your life."

"Yeah." He'd been trying to forget that.

"Could you stop saying yeah?" she said tightly.

"I'm sorry. I can't think of better stuff. I'm feeling kind of tired now."

"Good. We should just go to sleep."

He turned to her and grinned. "I'm not that tired."

"I'll bet."

He was picking up on something. "Are you mad at me?"

"No," she said quickly. "Anyway, you want your special last night? That's what all this is for, so..." She dug in her bag and pulled out that bottle again. "Why don't you finish this up?" she said, pushing it into his chest as the doors opened.

"You are mad at me," he insisted, following her down the hall.

"NO! I'm n...." She stopped at a door, then turned to him. "No, I'm not," she said, softer now. "It's just... Clark, you think life as you know it is about to end."

"Well, isn't it?"

"Yeah. We'll see," she said quickly. "Anyway, you can't just say things like we're... we're..."

"Married? Chloe, we just got married."

"But it was just for... fun," she finished firmly. "A week from now, we can dissolve it like it never happened. That's the point."

He drew back, stung. "It is?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, Christ. Clark, I'm not trying to... Stop looking at me like that." He wasn't sure how he was looking at her, but she moved closer to him. "I was only... I didn't mean..."

"Excuse me?" An angry woman pushed her head out the door. "Could you two keep it down? Some of us have matinees tomorrow."

"So sorry, Ma'am," Clark said miserably.

"Miss," she hissed, looking angrier than before when she shut the door.

Clark stared at Chloe as she moved a few doors down. "Come on." She stopped at 305 and jammed a key card in with shaking hands. After a few tries, it worked. She swung open the door. "Oh, God!"

He followed her in and dropped his bottle with a muffled thump on the red carpet. It was nowhere near a suite. Sure it had a sofa, but it was crammed in right next to the bed, partially blocking the bathroom door. The other glaring flaw was that it was red and everywhere. Even the doorknobs had peeling, blood colored paint. Some of it had even dried in long drips on the wall.

"It's like a Valentine's Day horror movie," he whispered.

"Something was murdered in here." She picked up a heart shaped pillow with Elvis' face in bad needle point. "Good taste."

He moved to the dresser and put his bottle down, picked up a piece of softened fruit from the basket buzzing with flies. "They charge two hundred dollars for this?"

Chloe snorted. "And you paid five hundred."

"Well, it wasn't my money." He picked up a warm, peeling bottle of champagne. The cork was half out and he'd bet it was fizzy vinegar by now.

"I bet whoever dropped that chip just woke up screaming and doesn't know why," she said, giggling.

He chuckled as well and pulled open a drawer. "I found the mini bar. It's got your favorite." He pulled out a half-full bottle of vodka.

She moved to him and took it. "Someone else's, too," she said, gesturing to the red lipstick visible just under the cap. She laughed.

"Who gives the staff their awards around here?" He said, his eyes tearing as he joined her.

"I don't even..." She laughed harder, stepping back, then flailing her arms as her heel met the fallen bottle.

He sped forward, not as quickly as usual and also tripping over the leg of the crammed-in couch just as he caught her waist. But he managed to roll under her, landing them against the door, effectively shutting it with his head. "You okay?"

She grunted and lifted her head from his chest. "Yeah. But there's not much of a difference between landing on you and the floor." She rubbed her chin. "Floor might even be softer.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." She nodded at the door behind him. "That door could've put a dent in my head instead of the other way around."

He craned his neck to look behind him. There was a cracked hollow. "Guess I got my money's worth now."

"Nah. That'll only add another fifty. We need to trash the rest of the room first."

He looked back up at her with a grin. "It's almost begging us to."

"It'll add more crazy to the night," she said with a giggle.

He'd laugh, too, but he was still thinking about the rest of the night, especially the last few minutes. "Chloe, you didn't really mean that, right? I mean, you don't just wanna divorce me right away."

Her smile dropped and she quickly moved off him, leaning against the side of that room-swallowing couch. "Clark, I... I have no idea what you want from me."

"Well, same here." He sat up, frowning at the ugly shag carpeting. "I mean, you wanna have this crazy drinking night, then you wanna go to Vegas, then you wanna get married and I'm, like, doing everything, then you're getting mad at me."

"Well, you keep saying all this romantic crap," she huffed.

"It's not crap. I mean, maybe I'm not saying things right, but I been drinking and..."

"Exactly," she cut in loudly. "You're drunk. So when you start spouting all that..."

"You're drinking, too."

"Well, yeah, but..."

"So when you start saying stuff and doing your thing you do, maybe I shouldn't listen. Huh?" He drew back, smirking. That seemed like a pretty good argument.

"What thing I do?"

"You know, all... Don't worry, Clark. We don't have to go on a date and we're just friends or Don't talk about how I kissed you because here's my new boyfriend, Jimmy."

"What? How many years ago is that?"

He stood. "Well, it's the same thing now. Now you're all We can not be married anymore and it's no big deal except for how it is because we're married, so... yeah."

She stood as well. "I told you before we did this, it was just..." She threw her hands up. "I don't get you. Are you saying you want to... stay married?"

"Well... yeah. I thought you did, too. You said this was the plan and..."

"This," she gestured widely, "was not the plan."

"Okay. We'll get a better room. I have my debit card and..."

"Clark, let's just go home. You don't know what you're saying and I won't hold you to anything. I promise. You don't have to justify this."

"Stop giving me outs. If I wanted out, I'd say it."

"No. You wouldn't. You..."

"If you want an out, then that's you. So just say it."

"Say what?"

"Say you don't want me."

"Clark, would you stop this?"

"Say it."

She sighed. "Clark, let's get you home."

He moved closer. "Say it and well go."

She put a hand up. "You need some water, maybe a... bottle of aspirin and a good night's..."

He grasped her hand. "Why won't you say it?"

She swallowed hard. "Can't we just go?"

He pulled at her hand, dragged her closer. "Say it first."

"I can't," she whispered.

He placed her hand against his chest, slid his hands to her waist. "Why not?"

"It wouldn't be true."

He pulled her all the way in.

December 22nd. 2011

She pulled away hard, put several feet between them.

"Chloe, I need you."

"No." She moved behind the couch. "You stay away from me."

"I can't. And I can't be without you. It doesn't work."

"You know what doesn't work? You trying to reel me in again."

He shook his head. "Knew it was too soon."

"Too soon!" she spat. "How about too f*cking late? Eons too late."

"It's never too late," he said firmly. "If you just hear me out..."

"No, I won't. Because I know what I'm going to hear." She paced behind the couch, bottle still swinging in her hand. "That you're lonely, that you have no one to talk to, that you're just twisting in the wind without your ex BFF."

He followed her movements, trying to catch hey eye. "That's all true, you know. But that's not why..."

"I'm not staying, Clark." She stopped, bringing the bottle to her lips and taking one long swallow. "I'm not getting pulled into your life again," she hissed. "In case you didn't notice, it doesn't pay off. I lost everything. I was miserable and ..."

"Not always. We were happy once. Chloe, I was miserable, too, at the end. But we were put there by what happened. We could have been happy again, but I f*cked up. I thought I could make everything better by staying away from you, but..."

"Well, that would make everything a hell of a lot better now."

"I wanted to shake you off. I thought we'd be better off away from each other after how bad we f*cked up. But I was wrong. It got worse for both of us. We needed each other and..."

"I don't need you!"

"Then I need you," he said speeding around the couch. "I love you."

She stared up at him, blinked several times, then looked down. "How f*cking dare you!"

He squeezed his eyes shut. It was really too soon for that. "Chloe, just..."

He heard the shatter before he registered she'd hit him. It didn't hurt, but he felt the noxious liquid running down his face and the tiny shards of glass in his hair. He heard a thump and wiped his eyes, opening them to find her sitting on the floor.

"Assh*le," she muttered, then placed her hands behind her, pushing, then sitting back down with a groan. "I can't get up."

June 2nd 2010

"I can't do this," she panted, but the words held little sway as she was on top and seemed in no hurry to get off... of him, that is. Plus, she was kissing him pretty enthusiastically and pulling his shirt upwards, so... maybe she meant the shirt.

He rolled them over on the carpet and pulled it off in a hurry. "Better?"

"Oh, God, yes." She ran her hands up his stomach, then shook her head. "Wait. No. Uh... We need to..."

"Get your shirt off," he suggested helpfully. At least he thought it was helpful. But the minute he pulled at it, she stared squirming. At first, he was totally okay with the squirming because between her hips and his, it felt pretty damned good. Then she started talking.

"We need a minute. I think we need to slow down and..."

"Okay, okay." He stilled, then leaned down... very slowly... and brushed his lips over her collarbone. "That good?"

"Yes. No. I mean... We need to stop."

"I thought you wanted me," he said, kissing her neck, not about to stop unless she actually pushed him off. As it was, she was grabbing at his back, so he figured he was cool.

"I always want you," she moaned, her hands going even lower than his back now. When they slipped into his jeans, he pushed forward, pressing her into the floor.

She did push him this time, but not off. She pushed him over and he went, taking her with him, hands grabbing for that shirt again. She kissed him again, so he didn't manage to get it off her, but he did get his hands under it, which was just as good. He had no idea how long they'd been rolling around on the floor, but he'd spent the whole time with no idea what to do with his hands. They'd been everywhere except under her shirt. He had an idea now. They could pretty much stay there forever.

She kind of whimpered into his mouth as he brushed her nipple, over bra, which felt lacy, but he couldn't be sure unless he got her shirt off, but with his arms trapped between them, he couldn't actually get it off.

"Chloe, you need to get up," he gasped, detaching his lips.

She lifted her head. "God, you're right." She sat up and moved off him, dislodging his hands from her shirt. She combed a hand through her hair. "This is so wrong. I can't..."

"No, no." He sat up. "Not right. I mean... not wrong. I mean... I didn't want you to get off me. I..." He trailed off, staring at her swollen lips and mussed hair and the shirt bunched around her chest and pretty much tackled her to the floor, pulling the shirt up to her neck. He took a moment to rejoice that her bra was lacy and peachy and so damned pretty before he descended on it, closing his lips around her nipple through the lace.

"Clark!"

"You like that?" He breathed, trying to nudge the lace out of his way and get to the good stuff when she said his name again, except it didn't sound like a cry of pleasure. He lifted his head. "Too rough?" He sat up on his knees. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd learned all this control and now I just..."

"No. It's fine. Just... something under me." She sat up and reached behind her, came up with that metallic bottle.

"Stupid thing." He grabbed it, ready to toss it behind him, not caring if it landed on the moon at this point, but she grasped his wrist.

"You should finish it," she said, staring at the bottle.

"I don't want it. It tastes like crap."

"I know," she said, then looked up at him. "But you need to finish it because..." She looked at the bottle again. "It relaxes you."

"But then I can't kiss you. You said it burns and..."

"And you can wash it out," she cut in.

"But you keep saying you don't believe me when I'm drunk and I say things like..."

"That was before, Clark." She rose to her knees. "I trust you now. I just... I want you relaxed. Makes me feel safer."

"You don't feel safe with me?"

"No, you just..." She pressed the bottle into his hands. "You said something else back there, Clark. You said I always help you through things. Well... what if the reason you never can... you know... is you're too tense? Maybe this might help."

"You mean I'll need to get drunk every time we..."

"No," she cut in. "Just that first time. Just to know you can. After that..."

"It'll be easier," he finished. "I'll have done it." He took the bottle and stared at it in wonder. "It's worked before. I mean... I flew."

"Of course you did," she said, standing. "Why don't you finish that for me?"

He grabbed her wrist. "Where are you going?"

"To the bathroom, silly." She smiled suddenly. "Need to get ready."

"Oh, yeah. That makes..." He shook his head and stood as well. "How do you get ready?"

She patted his chest, then pushed off it, moving between the couch and the bed to the bathroom. "Mysterious girl stuff. I'll be right back." He stared after her, curious about mysterious girl stuff, but even more eager for her to get whatever-it-was over with and come back.

He twisted the top off, thinking again about the desert. He flew. He knew it. He'd leapt, jumped, even vaulted over things. Every time, he'd felt that high point, that moment when he reached his highest peak and felt that pull of gravity. Not tonight. There had been a moment when he'd felt it, that pull. It wasn't up or down. It was forward, as if he could keep going. He felt that now, so he took another sip.

Maybe Chloe was right. She usually was. Maybe if he relaxed enough to get throug that first time, of he just knew he could do it, then he would know he'd done it and the next time they...

He stopped, swallowing hard. There wouldn't be a next time. He had to stop thinking like that because he'd made his decision. Someone had died and he had to pay the price, whatever it ended up being. And he might never be...

He lifted the bottle again, trying not to think about tomorrow anymore tonight. He swallowed, then swallowed some more, tipping the bottle up until he could feel the last of it slide down his throat, dutifully finishing as she'd said. He wanted her to feel safe, feel he was relaxed enough, after all.

He dropped the empty bottle and moved to the bed, feeling so relaxed his eyes were closing. They shot open and he forced himself up, slapping his cheeks, wondering if he was too relaxed. He moved to the bathroom door, still partially blocked by that too-red couch that was always too in the way. He tried to move past it, but it hit him in the shins and caught most of him. The rest of him landed against the bathroom door with a thump.

"Clark?"

"Yeah," he said, his cheek sliding down the door. "Just coming to tell you how relaxed I am now."

"That's great," she said. He wondered if her voice was high pitched or if his ears were over-sensitive, but it kind of sliced through him right now. "I need a minute. Why don't you lay down and close your eyes and... count to one hundred?"

"That's a lot," he groaned, trying to pull himself up.

"Come on. One, two, three..."

He heaved himself up and stumbled backward, landing on the bed.

"Four..."

"Five," he mumbled with her, closing his eyes. "Six, seven, eight... teen, twenty, twenty-five. thirty, thirty-five. forty, fifty, sixty... eight... nine... seven..."

December 22nd, 2011

"One, two..."

"Get off me!" Chloe pushed his hands away. "I can get up."

Clark stood up behind her. "Well, you just said you can't."

"I can if you gimme a sec." She pushed upward from behind, but only landed on her butt again.

"Chloe, just let me..."

"No!" She pushed forward.

"Chloe, don't..."

And landed on her hands on knees. "Ow!"

He scooped her up, whether she wanted him to or not, and tossed her over his shoulder, sped to the kitchen.

He sat her on the counter before she could protest and turned on the water, pulling her hand over the sink. The water ran red. "I told you not to," he said grimly.

"And I told you not to touch me," she said weakly.

"I can't seem to help it," he said, pulling her hand out of the stream and trying to squeeze the glass out of her skin.

"You keep sayin stuff like that," she said blearily, leaning her head against a cabinet. "You can't help it. You can't be without me. But you can. You managed fine for a year and a half."

"Only a half a year," he said. "The year before that, I spent every spare second looking for you." He watched as one sliver fell into the sink with a clink. "You didn't make it easy."

"Wasn't supposed to be," she murmured, her eyes half closed. "How'd you find me, anyway?"

"How did you hide so long?" he countered, wanting to keep her talking, keep her awake. He was starting to worry that she'd had too much to drink. If he could keep her up a little longer...

"I asked you first," she said.

She had a point.


PART NINE

PART ELEVEN