Before Sunset (Part Ten)

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"Gross." Chloe shifted and turned to her left as they walked. "My clothes are actually stiff with dirt."

"Uh-huh."

"I bet they could stand up on their own."

"Gotcha."

Two syllables. But she wouldn't be put off. "Any chance the next shelter we find is a nice, abandoned, fully-working laundromat?"

"Doubt it," Clark grunted beside her. 

Two syllables again. She wondered if that was on purpose. After two hours of walking through snow and trees and not much else, he still wouldn't contribute more than two syllables at a time. She'd been trying to get more out of him for an hour now.

"Yeah. Probably," she went on. "It's just as well. I don't have any quarters. Do you?"

"No."

And down to one. Now was the time to test her theory. If he really was planning this or if two syllables was just all that would coming out. "Hey, Clark? What was the name of our English teacher freshman year? I just graduated from the place and I can't even remember it."

"Don't know."

But he did know. He and Pete had spent all of lunch giggling over it on their first day Freshman year and, whenever Clark heard the name over the years, he always let out a snicker. So this wasby design. Well, she was determined to break the pattern. "It was... I think it began with an H, but I just can't... I swear it had something to do with hot dogs, but I can't..." She glanced at him as they trudged uphill. "Oh, well. Guess it'll just be one of those things that get forgotten. It's a shame. Because I remember you and Pete thought it was..."

"It was Harry Weiners," Clark suddenly burst out, stopping. "Our English teacher's name was... Harry Weiners." He made a strange noise, then closed his lips tight.

Chloe grinned and stilled, happy just to get him past that two-syllable mark. "Really? That's a funny name."

Clark glanced at her, lips twitching. "Don't pretend you don't remember. You were the one that went on and on about how the man was in his seventies and we should show respect."

She shrugged. "Well, he was."

"You just liked him because he called you brilliant for... something."

"It was for my insightful analysis of "Prufrock" being about insignificnce and isolation rather than romantic love."

"Whatever," he muttered. "Teacher's pet."

"No, I'm not. At least,,, not outside of English teachers. You might recall the fights I got into with every single science teacher about my theories about meteor mutation." She poked him in the arm. "About which I turned out to be right and will someday be lauded for."

"You're not always right," he said, moving quickly ahead of her again.

She stared after him a moment. They almost had it back. She couldn't let it get away again. Whatever Clark was feeling now, she was right. Keeping their friendship was for the best. And now was the time to get it back.

He was right about one thing. She started it. She took the chance that they'd survive. Sex meant either one last hurrah before succumbing to an icy death or the warmth and friction needed to get through the night. 

She'd kind of been counting on the former.

Not that she wasn't grateful to be alive. But she might not have done it if she'd known they'd survive. Then again, they might no have survived without it. Either way, it happened. And it was beautiful and unavoidable and fated. She always knew their friendship might come to this. All of that tension had to reach its breaking point someday and that would be how their friendship would end. She saw it happening down the line, though. Not now. Not in the middle of a wintry summer with no one else around.

"We had some good times," she said, maybe a little too loudly.

But it made him stop, turning to her with a furrowed brow.

"And I'd hate to think that you were just... throwing that away based on one night, especially now when we're... We're all we have right now, Clark."

He sighed out a long puff of steam. "I'm not throwing anything away, Chloe. You said you wanted to be friends."

"And you agreed."

"Yes, I did." 

"And how is this friendly?" She moved toward him. "It seems like you can't even look at me or talk to me for more than a..."

"I just can't snap back to friendly banter in minutes."

"It's been two hours, Clark. And the sun's getting lower and it's getting colder and it feels like every step we take in one direction or another is a life of death decision and..."

"Chloe..."

"No, Clark. We seriously are all we have right now and..."

"Shhh!"

"I won't let you just..."

He moved toward her rather quickly and she found her words muffled against his jacket as he pulled the both of them toward a tree. 

She shook free, dropping the lantern base. "Clark, what are you..."

"Quiet," he hissed.

She was about to argue again when she saw what he was looking at. It was just a speck in the distance, but it was moving. And closer.

He pulled them to the other side of the tree before she could see what it was. When she heard the bounding steps coming faster, she was rather glad not to see. She just stayed still, clinging to Clark as he clung to her.

She squeezed her eyes shut as the steps slowed. She heard something like a loud huff of breath, then a sort of... snuffling sound. As it wasn't a growl, she chanced opening her eyes. She lifted her head to see past his jacket. She almost let out a relieved sigh. It was a moose. She nearly smiled as she glanced up at Clark, but he looked tense. As the moose snufflled some more, shuffling forward, she could see why.

She almost bolted forward to grab the blanket left on the ground, but Clark held her tighter. When the moose sort of turned to them, she wondered what the hell she'd been so relieved about. It had some daunting horns. It kept its eyes on them, but its front hoof moved forward. Chloe heard the sickening crack of their jar. Luckily for them, the noise startled the moose enough to bound away quickly. Unluckily, it seemed to be dragging their blanket on its hoof.

Chloe started after it, but Clark held her again.

"He has our..."

"I know, but it's not worth getting charged at to get it back." He stared sadly after the moose. "And it's not worth running miles back to where we came from."

She nodded, feeling strangely like crying. "Not like there was much in it, but..." She did start sniffling when she saw the lantern base on the ground. "Clark..." She held it up. It was nearly empty. "I dropped it."

She felt his hand on her shoulder. "We've only got one match left. I don't think the kerosene does us much good without that."

"And he broke our jar."

"We can eat snow if we have to. It'll be... like sno-cones without the flavor. Chloe, don't..."

"Clark, we're gonna die out here," she nearly wailed.

"Hey..." He pulled her in, rubbing her back. "What happened to all that plucky, positive, keep moving stuff?"

"That was when we had gear," she said into his shirt. "I know it wasn't much, but now..."

"We have each other." He pulled her back, holding her by the arms. "And maybe, like you said, we're all we have." He squeezed her lightly. "And that's not so bad." He shook his head, smiling slightly. "When I think about all the life-or-death things we've dealt with weekly... I can't seriously think a snow hike is going to be the end of us." 

"Okay. She sniffled and nodded. "Okay."

He stared into her eyes and his smile dropped. "Chloe, I'm... I'm not throwing us away.. I just... I meant what I said. I can't just snap back into looking at you like... like before. I think I can get there, but I need some time. And maybe even quiet. You can't just... try to joke me back into being pals like that."

Chloe nodded. "Fair enough."

"So let's keep moving."

She let out a short burst of laughter. "Thought that was my line."


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


They trudged on and upward quietly. The trees were getting more sparse, but so was the snow. Here and there, he could see patches of dirt.

"Less snow now," he grunted, grasping a near-dead sapling to pull himself up a slippery patch of hill.

"Doesn't make it warmer," Chloe said, a slight tremor in her voice. "Sun's going down."

He turned, wondering if he should hold out his hand, help er up, but she pulled on the small branch herself before settling into step next to him again. He almost missed her babbling away and overcompensating. But he was glad she was giving him space. He was. He still needed time and quiet to get his thoughts together, but without talking, most of his toughts were Jesus, it's cold!

He hugged his arms, trying to tuck his hands in. Screw it. He was sick of quiet. "Maybe we should stop and make a fire to warm up."

Chloe stopped, then shook her head. "We can't. We've only got one match left and we might need that for the night." She plodded on. "I don't think either of us know the stick and rock method."

"My dad would." Clark mentally kicked himself for not paying attention. "Anyway, it's best to keep moving, I guess. Find shelter."

"I don't think we will." 

"You were the one going on about hunting cabins."

"If there was anything, we would have found it by now. I think that last match is our best chance at getting through a night in the open air. Not that we have much of a chance."

"That's helpful."

"That's true and I think we both know it."

He couldn't exactly deny it. "We're nearing the top of this..." Hill? Mountain? "Whatever this is. At least we'll be able to see what's ahead." 

"M-maybe," she said, rubbing her arms. 

He was getting kind of sick of space, too. He could sort this out later. But, for now, he just wanted to pull her closer, see if they could still walk while burrowing into each other for warmth. He was just getting up the nerve to move to her when she suddenly grabbed him. He sighed in relief and tried to pull her closer when she started pushing. "Chloe..."

"Something's coming," she hissed.

"Huh?"

"Do you hear that?"

They both stilled, listening. He could hear it, too, sort of shuffling and crunching, but he couldn't see where it was coming from. And what did it matter? They had nowhere to hide, not counting sparse, little trees as thick as his arm.

He glanced upwards and grasped her arm. "Run," he whispered.

"Okay," she breathed. 

He kept his grip on her as they ran upwards. His lungs burned and the muscles in his legs were screaming at the forced speed after a day already spent plodding through the snow. But he kept going. If they could just get to the precipice, they could get behind one of the larger rocks up top. He jerked nearly to a stop as he felt her arm slip away. He tried to pull her behind him, but her feet were slipping in the snow. He doubted her shoes had the traction of his boots. He didn't think. He did what he had so many times before. He picked her up. It took more effort these days, but he bent to her waist and straightened, holding her over his shoulder and running like the devil was at his heels. Because he could hear it now. Something was definitely coming closer...

He plowed forward, past the dull clunk of the lantern base and what they had for fuel falling to the ground, through the pain in his... everything, gripping her with numb hands. He wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. Just a little more. Please...

He was getting nearer to a precipice, or at least something that didn't seem to be going forever upwards. He nearly leapt over it before...

He stopped. Nothing. He panted, looking over the mass of rocks. 

Not nothing, exactly, but a steep incline that disappeared into thick brush. 

The crunching of the snow from what-the-hell-ever was nearly pounding in his ears now and he gripped her, stepping between the rocks, trying to keep a foothold as he made his way carefully backwards. He stopped, feeling something solid under his feet and bent to place her on a rock. She looked dizzy and a little green and he wanted to ask her if she was alright, but there wasn't time. He could hear it. 

He glanced behind him, keeping mind the incline before he grasped her shoulder and crouched, pulling her down in front of him.

He gripped the top of the rock, keeping his head down as the steps slowed... not steps. Sort of clops on the rockier terrain. Like hooves.

"Hooves," he wheezed.

Chloe only let out a muffled groan against his shirt. He let up slightly, still keeping her sandwiched between him and a rock. 

"Sorry," he breathed. But if it had hooves... Didn't seem as bad as the toothy, furry things that flitted through is mind as he ran. "Shhh!" 

She nodded, still looking a little peaked. He moved to the side slightly, still gripping the rock and lifted slightly.

He let out something nearly like a laugh as he saw a deer, pulling at something nearly green sticking out of the snow.

She gripped his arm, but didn't speak, just sort of panted against his shirt.

"It's okay," he let out on a breath. He nearly fell backwards in relief before he caught himself, gripping the rock. Still, knowing that they weren't about to be eaten alive gave him the freedom to look more closely behind him. They had a little space behind the rock and he took it, moving to the side and sagging against the rock.

"How... okay?" she wheezed, still looking worse for the run.

He glanced down, "It's a doe."

"A... deer?"

He had the mad urge to answer "A female deer," but checked it. He gripped her waist instead and helped her straighten slowly. He kept his hand at her back as she looked over. 

She let out a shaky burst of laughter and he nearly joined her before the doe lifted her head abruptly. He quieted, sort of hesitant to scare her off. She was brown, dappled with white and about the least threatening thing they'd seen on this journey. He didn't want to spoil it. 

The doe bent her head again, worrying at the bit of plant she was trying to uproot. 

Chloe leaned against him and he held her there. "I feel stupid now," she whispered, still shaking. "Getting so spooked by... that."

He pulled her closer. "At least it got us moving faster."

Chloe took a deeper and, thankfully, slower breath. "She's beautiful."

Clark sighed, glad she saw it, too. Honestly, this entire place wasn't bad to look at... if they were watching a nature video from his living room. Maybe curled up on the sofa with a blanket and hot drinks and some cookies and... "God, I'm hungry."

He felt a slight pinch at his side and let out a startled yelp. The doe stiffened and skittered off. "Poor, little doe," Chloe whispered. "You scared her."

"You pinched me."

"Because you were looking at her like she was a meal. We both saw Bambi. How could you..." She straightened, then tilted backwards. 

"No..." Clark caught her around the waist and pulled her tightly to him. "No wild movements." He held her, breathing in shaky pants, and looked down over her shoulder. "We're going to have to get down this."

Chloe lifted her head frm his chest and looked down, then sort of flattened herself against him. "Oh, God!"

"We'll be fine," he said, rubbing her back, though he eyed the steep hill with some doubt. "We just have to go slow." Though he didn't want to go at all. He just wanted to stay pressed to her, nearly warm for the first time in hours. But they didn't have the luxury of a break. It was getting darker. "Come on." He loosened his hold on her and they both shivered at the cold. 

"God, it's so c-c-c..."

"I know." He stepped to the side, holding out his hand for her. "So we need to keep moving. We're always warmer when we move."

"With this?" She took his hand and stepped toward him, planting her foot on the hillside. "We need to keep moving slowly, so... not exactly warm-making."

"No," he agreed. But neither was talking or thinking about how cold it was. "Let's just... talk about something else." God knew he needed to get his mind off it. "Just so you know," he began, carefully picking his way down two more steps. "I wasn't thinking of that deer as food. I'm just... hungry." 

"Aren't we all." She followed him, still gripping his hand. "I was eyeing that plant she was masticating, wondering if it tasted good. Did you ever read My Side of the Mountain?"

"I think... maybe in junior high. I don't remember much of it. The kid lives in a tree trunk. Right?"

"You remember more than me." She took a few steps on her side as his just looked like a sheet of snow now. "I remember him eating roots and stuff and I keep trying to think of what roots."

"Dandelion. That was one." He moved toward her, trying to keep his legs stiff so he wouldn't slide. "And... I can't thik of any more."

"I guess it wouldn't help much, considering he was doing this in the summer."

"It is summer."

She huffed slightly. "In name only, where we are. Deer might be the more likely foodsource than edible plants."

"I've had venison before."

"Clark, I was kidding."

"Well. it's not like I could actually kill a deer and get it. Ben Hubbard brought a whole bunch over after a hunting trip when I was twelve."

"I couldn't. I guess it's easy to think of other meats without seeing the animals, but deer..."

"I had that problem, too. Once I found out what venison meant. Ben had it ground up and I thought it was just regular meat with a weird aftertaste. I almost didn't finish my meatloaf when I realized it was deer.."

"Almost?"

"Mom and Dad were having a hard time with the farm and money around then. Ben brought it over to be helpful and I didn't want to be ungrateful about it. But it did have a weird taste. It was better in burgers. You could hide it better in a cheeseburger with everything."

She stopped, putting a hand to her stomach. "Please don't talk about cheeseburgers."

"Sorry."

They picked their way down in silence for a moment before Chloe spoke up. "I can't stop thinking about greasy burgers now."

"Me, too."

"It was bound to happen. Our breakfast and lunch were tiny bits of dried beef and it's way past dinner time."

"In my house, there was no such thing as past dinner time. No matter what time I wanted to eat, there was always just... everything I wanted. God, my mom can cook."

"I know. Why do you think I helped you with your homework nearly every night when I first moved to Smallville?"

"Because you wanted me to pass into high school?"

"Because dinner at my house was hot dogs, microwaved in a sea of baked beans. My dad called it Franks Surprise. He'd sometimes crumble crackers over it." She chuckled. "He never was a chef, outside of summer."

"Your dad can barbecue. "

"Mmmm. I like when he does the corn on the grill. Cooks it right in the skin."

"And it just peels off. And the shish-kabobs with the weird purple potatoes."

"Fingerling. But no one makes mashed potatoes like your mom. And the homemade gravy..." 

"Oh, God. Stop talking." He gripped his stomach. Real hunger was still new, but it seemed even more gnawing now.

She stilled, one foot below them. "Uh... okay." She looked strangely... hurt.

"Not the talking. Just the food talk. It's... actually painful."

She smiled slightly. "I get it. I just... It was nice to be talking again."

He knew what she meant, after the hours of near-silence. "It's not like I... I'm trying to just get back to... I want to talk to you," he said, finally settling on a thought. "I always want to talk to you. I mean, as far as people to talk to, you're about the number one person."

She tilted her head. "Really? Because I always get the impression that you wish I'd shut up."

"What?" He started down again. "I never said that."

"Then I must have dreamed you and Pete calling me a know-it-all and telling me to shut up and..."

"That's only when you were being rude and contradicting us." He held out his arm.

She took his arm, smiling. "You mean being right and correcting you."

"Whatever." He stayed still, gazing down at her as she moved down to his level. "But what I meant was that you... You always have something to say. Something interesting or some crazy theory or... I've never been bored with you."

She blinked up at him. "Well... Thanks." She looked away with a laugh. "You don't need to flatter me just to keep me talking."

"It's not flattery. It's true," he said, realizing it was. "As frustrating as you are sometimes, I'm never at a loss for words around you. And I'm... I'm not that way with everyone. I... I guess you just bring that out in me."

"We have had our share of fights." She smiled, still looking away.

"It's not about fights. It's about us and the way you always..."

"Clark, stop."

"No. I know I was mad before. But you're right. We can't just throw away..."

"Stop saying goodbye."

"I'm not saying goodbye."

Her lips were trembling with the rest of her. "It sounds like you are. Like we are. And... Oh, Jesus! Maybe we have to at this point. But I can't do it."

"Then don't." He gripped her arms. "Chloe, we'll be fine."

"No, we won't." Her eyes began welling up and she tightened her lips.

"We have to be," he insisted. "We didn't survive countless times just to go this way. This isn't how we go."

"I wish it wasn't, too, Clark," she nearly choked. "I can even look back and wish it was some other time. Something less slow and painful than freezing to death in the middle of nowhere. It's scarier than any meteor freak to think of being found here and our families..."

"You listen to me," he growled, shaking her now. "This is not goodbye and this is not the end. Do you hear me?" He shook her again, but she just stared at him, still crying. "This is us, Chloe. This is you and me. And there is no one else..." He shook her harder and she let out a sob. "There is no one else I could get through this with."

"Clark..."

"No one but you," he panted, losing his strength and his hold on her. "We're going to get through this like every other time. Okay?" He shook her with what wa left of his strength. "Say okay!"

"Okay," she gasped weakly. "Clark... You're hurting me,"

Her words sapped his strength like nothing else could. "I'm sorry." He let her go, expecting her to slap him for shaking her like that. 

What he didn't expect was for her to crumple downwards, fold to the ground and slide away from him.

He tried to reach out, but her body rolled over, down the hillside and into the brush.

"Chloe!" He ran, hardly caring if he slipped now. He had to get to her.

And he did slip, sliding into a rock and tumbling headling over it. The world spun crazily just before he hit the snow again, landing on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He let out a weak grunt as his body rolled over again, completely beyond his control. He wasn't sure later, but he thought he might have blacked out before he found himself face-down in the snow. He spat at the snow as he raised his head, seeing tiny flecks of red as he opened his eyes. He didn't have time to care about that.

"Chloe?" he croaked. He pushed himself up and looked around. He was on flat ground now, having rolled most of the way down the hill. But where was she? "Chloe!"

He looked up the hill, thinking of the rock he'd nearly flipped over. She might have hit a similar one, but head first. She could be knocked out. And for how long? He wasn't even sure if he'd been conscious this whole time, except that there was still some light in the sky.

But no Chloe.

"Chloe!" His voice echoed around him.

He looked up the hill, trying to figure out where they were when she'd first fell, if he could get back up and follow her tracks...

"Clark..."

His breath stopped as he heard it, not sure if he was imagining it. He called her name tentatively. "Chloe?" 

"Clark..."

It was to his left. He ran that way, calling her name louder. He moved around some thick brush as she answered him again. It seemed closer now, but still faint. If she was hurt, he'd never...

"Clark!"

He stopped, nearly falling to the show again as he whipped to his right. "Chloe..."

She was sitting up, holding her hand, which was bleeding.

He rushed to her, falling to his knees beside her. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to shake you and make you..."

"It wasn't your fault. I just..." She started to get up, but slid to the snow again. He caught her, cradling her. "Clark... I don't think I can even stand anymore. So tired and cold and... I can't do it." She closed her eyes and he fought the urge to shake her again, knowing how much good it did last time. 

He gripped her waist instead and pulled her arm around his neck. "Don't say that," he grunted. "I meant it, Chloe. There's no one else I could see myself surviving this with. You're so much stronger than you know. I've seen you get through worse. Come on." He stood... or tried to, pulling her weight with him.

He felt her grip on his shoulder and pulled harder. Her head lolled backward, but he could feel her body stiffen. She was trying. He got them standing and gripped her with both hands, one at her back and one behind her head.

"There you go," he whispered. "See?"

Her eyes opened, then squinted at him. "You split your lip," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

His tongue darted out and he tasted blood. That explained the red flecks in the snow. "It doesn't hurt much." He gripped her harder as her body slipped down. "Chloe, please... Just try to stand."

She gave a small nod and he loosened his hold, trying to keep her up, yet give her room to try. He looked down, waiting for her legs to straighten before he backed away slightly. "There you go. You can do it."

He lifted his eyes to her face again, but she wasn't looking at him. She was staring ahead of her, her eyes wide and her mouth open.

"Damn it." He moved in and pulled her to him again. "You're just in shock. I know that was a bad fall." He rubbed her back. "We can take a minute." She let out a sort of squeak and he pulled back, wondering if he'd hurt her. "Chloe?"

She lifted her hand, letting out another rusty noise. 

He took it between his carefully. "I know it hurts,"

"Clark... look."

He did. It was scraped and bleeding, but didn't look out of shape otherwise. "I don't think it's broken, but if..."

"No. Look behind you."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "What now?" he breathed. "If it's another moose..."

"No." He felt her hand on his cheek and he opened his eyes. 

"Worse?"

"Cabin."

"Cabin?"

Her lips formed a shaky sort of smile and she pushed at his shoulders. He turned, then, still not quite registering the word until he saw it.

"Cabin," he whispered, nearly reverently.


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