Before Sunset (Part Twenty-Five)

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He hummed into her mouth and slid a hand down her waist.

"Um... Excuse me?"

"Go away," he muttered against her lips.

"Well, I would, but you kids are sleeping on the ground. And kissing. Just don't know if that's okay. This is private property, ya know?"

Clark's lips and hands stilled.

Chloe froze as she waited for Clark to move, but he sat there, his lips just hanging over hers as the man, that blessed, wonderful man, went on.

"And you shouldn't be lighting fires here. This isn't a campground, ya know. Could start a damned forest fire if you..."

She finally pushed Clark's head out of the way, so she could see their savior. "We're so sorry," she said eagerly, taking in his bearded face, thick coat, and narrowed eyes. "We've been..." She started to sit up, then realized she was completely naked and promptly pulled Clark over her like the limp blanket he was at the moment.

"You two aren't wearing any clothes!" He abruptly turned around. "Ya know, I'm not exactly the law around here, but if you and your boyfriend want to sneak off for some..."

"He's not my..."

"We weren't camping," Clark said over her, just a little behind.

"Well, if you were, you weren't being very smart about it," he said, prodding their kettle with a booted toe. "You Whitehorse kids? Because this isn't the first time I've had to kick your kind off this land."

"We're from Kansas," Chloe said, "and we need..."

"Are you... Le Gal?" Clark cut in. "Olivier Le Gal?"

"I'm not French," their apparent Francophobe savior turned, then quickly turned back around. "And I'm not talking to you two unless you put some clothes on. I don't care how you do things in... Kansas."

"Oh, we were just going to," Chloe said quickly, wondering what he'd heard about Kansas and if it was worse than Whitehorse, but more eager to get dressed so their rather prudish savior would talk. She elbowed Clark, who was still just laying there, head craned up at the man.

"Ow! Okay."

She sat up shivering and grabbed the first thing under her. It was Clark's jacket, she tossed it at him and dug for her pants. "We're so glad you found us," Chloe said through chattering teeth, wanting to be properly grateful even if she was naked.

"We really weren't camping," Clark said, tossing his jacket aside and pulling Chloe's pants from under him.

"We've been walking for days." She snatched her pants and tossed him his boxers.

"Where'd you two walk from? Not Kansas, I'll bet." 

"We were coming from..." Chloe trailed off, stilling in the middle of pulling on her bra. Somehow, she didn't think Arctic Ice Castle was a good answer. She stared at Clark, who stared at her half-clothed breasts, then seemed to snap out of it.

"We were on a graduation trip," he said, turning away from her and buttoning up his pants. "Um... we were ice fishing and there was... this... thing."

"We got separated," Chloe supplied, "from the group and we couldn't find them and we were walking and... Hey, we didn't get your name, Mr..."

"Do you have a phone?" Clark cut in.

"Yes!" Chloe pulled on her slightly damp T-shirt and tried to nudge Clark off her jacket. "You know, if we can just call home..."

"And where are we?" Clark wanted to know as he moved off her jacket and kicked her shoes toward her.

"Do you have any coffee? Or food?"

"You said this is private property. Whose property is..."

"You know, if we could just see your cell phone for one second..."

"My names Charles Carey," the man said loudly over them. "I've got a thermos of coffee in the sno-kat, you're in Old Crow, I'm sorry you two got yourselves lost, and I don't believe in cell phones. And if you and your boyfriend are dressed..."

"He's not my..."

Clark pulled her inward. "Do you want him to think we're sluts?" he hissed. "Yes. My girlfriend and I are dressed," he said loudly.

Their savior, or Charles, turned. Chloe wanted to hug him, even if he didn't have a cell phone. "Then you'd better come with me," he said, sounding as if he wasn't in the mood for rescuing, but would do it anyway. Chloe still wanted to lunge at him, but Clark held her glued to his side. "Sno-kat's just over the ridge."

"You mean this hill ends?" Chloe nudged Clark. "Told you we were close."

"My girlfriend and I would be happy to follow you," Clark said, loudly again. Chloe stared at him. So did Charles.

"Alright, then." He turned away. "You two are lucky I came up this way at all, ya know," he said, moving uphill. 

Chloe stared after him, still glowing at the idea of rescue. "Oh, we know we are. We thought we'd be wandering forever."

"Yes. My girlfriend and I..."

"Would you stop that?" Chloe hissed, breaking away from Clark to trudge after him. "My name's Chloe and this is Clark. And we've been..."

"Lost. I know. I only came up here because I saw smoke in the distance. It was gone by the time I got closer, but I figured I should still look things over. Wouldn't want the lodge to burn down."

"Lodge?" Clark said from behind them.

"Old Crow Ski Lodge. Just over Suicide Hill, here."

"Good name for this," Clark grunted.

"There's a lodge?" Chloe asked rapturously.

"Closed for the summer."

"Doesn't feel like summer," Clark panted as they trudged after him, 

"We get a few good weeks of it up here, though," Charles said. "I just look in on things in the off-season, ya know. And I'm still going to have to do that before I can get you to Whitehorse. So if you two can rest up at the lodge..."

"Oh, we can," Chloe sighed, her mind filled with roaring fires, hot cocoa, maybe some mounted antlers and even that sounded nice right now. And phones! "Are there phones?"

"Yes. My girlfriend and I just need to make just one call to..."

"He knows our names," Chloe cut in, her good mood evaporating just a little. "But we do need to call someone. We can reverse the charges."

"Like I said, lodge is closed for the the summer. Phones aren't on. But I'll take you on to Whitehorse if you can just sit tight for a bit."

She couldn't... sit, that is. The minute Charles helped them into his sno-kat, she fell into an almost drugged slumber. She even forgot all about his coffee. 

When she came to, she was laying on a sheet-covered couch in front of an empty fireplace. Clark was draped over her, snoring in her ear and Charles was nowhere to be found. 

"Clark!" She sat up and his head bounced to her lap. 

"What? I wasn't sleeping!" he panted, his eyes hazy.

"How did we get here?"

"I carried you. You were sleeping. My turn now," he grunted, burying his head in her lap. "Mmmm."

"But where's Charles?"

"Who's Charles?" he yawned. She stared down at him and wondered if it was all a dream until she realized they were, indeed, in a ski lodge. Sure, it wasn't her hot fire and cocoa fantasy, but there were antlers. 

She nudged him. "The guy who brought us here. He wouldn't just leave us." Or would he? He didn't seem to be in the mood for rescuing wayward high school graduates.

"Oh, that guy," Clark mumbled. "He had to go do some... caretaker stuff. I dunno." He turned and burrowed into her stomach and started snoring again.

She stared down at Clark, itched to wake him up again. How could he be sleeping? They were rescued, for crying out loud! Then again, she'd apparently had a hell of a lot of shut-eye. She didn't even remember getting out of the sno-kat. Maybe he carried her.

She sighed and decided to let him sleep, smoothing the hair off his forehead before she could stop herself. She didn't want to do things like that. Not now that they were going home. He rubbed his face on her stomach and pulled himself closer with a whisper of her name and she again wished she hadn't. It made her feel strange, the way him shouting that she was his girlfriend three times felt strange, the way him throwing his leg over her as he slept in that rickety old bed felt strange. They were things that belonged to here and now. Now that they were going home, these things had to be let go.

"Chloe?"

She shivered and stared down at him. "Yeah?"

"You cold?" 

"I'm okay."

He sat up, planted his feet on the ground. "Come here." He pushed her down and laid on the edge of the couch, sandwiching her between him and the back, rubbing her arms. "I wanted to light a fire, but he said he couldn't open the flues because it's off season. He's not the best rescuer, I think. Even those St. Bernards in cartoons have those little barrels on their necks with cocoa in them."

"I thought that was supposed to be booze," she said, letting herself feel warm and comfortable... just for now. "Well, I'd like some cocoa. I was fantasizing that this lodge had cocoa and checkered blankets and feather mattresses."

Clark smiled. "Well, I asked him to save you some coffee if that helps."

She couldn't help it. She kissed him. Because maybe they were going home, but they weren't home yet. As nice as being rescued was, there was something sad in losing this. Clark didn't seem to mind being kissed, anyway, not yet. His hands went from rubbing her arms to gripping her waist, pulling her under him. She hummed against his mouth, thinking about how much she'd miss this. As much as she wanted to pretend it was for survival at first, it seemed to have become that way now. This was necessary. She wasn't sure how she'd get through a day without this now. Not just kissing, but the way he looked after her, the way he looked to her, the way he said her name as his lips were just a breath away, the way he cleared his throat and grunted "You two at it again?"

She stilled. That wasn't Clark.

She detached her lips and pushed his head out of the way. Charles was leaning over the couch, looking tired and annoyed. "Heading to Whitehorse now. Don't suppose you two want to take your hands off each other for a sec and come along."

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

"Do you two want to tell us how you ended up in the Yukon?" Jonathon Kent's voice roared in both of their ears.

Clark moved away from Chloe in the crowded phone booth. "Dad, we weren't in The Yukon to start with. We were... it's a long story." 

When they'd hopped out of the sno-kat and waved to a not-so-subtly relieved Charles Carey, they stared from that booth to the yellow building that screamed "Tim Horton" and "Coffee." Surprisingly, Chloe had found herself dragging Clark to the phone booth. Coffee might be her fuel, but information was her life. 

"But I thought you were going to..." Jonathon Kent's voice trailed off. "Is Chloe still there?"

Of course, now that they'd established that everyone they knew and loved, including her father, was alive and well and living off generators donated by Luthorcorp until the electric company was running again, she found her nose pressed against the booth's window, staring at that steaming cartoon cup of coffee. Not just out of sheer want. The rest of her was pressed against it as well since Clark seemed to be forgetting he couldn't pace in a three-by-three booth. "Clark," she groaned, peeling herself away and pasting herself to Clark so she could crane her neck to the receiver at Clark's ear. "I'm here, Mr. Kent."

"Oh.... uh. You know, Chloe... I'm glad you're okay, but... If we could just talk to Clark alone for a second..."

"Dad, she knows."

There was silence. 

"She knows... everything. Probably more than you do right now. And don't worry. She knew before and never..."

"Well, that's just great!"

"Jonathon," Martha Kent's voice sighed. 

"Do you know what we've been going through? First, we think you're going away forever, then we find out you're okay and Chloe knows and you're..."

"Alive," Martha's voice cut in. "And still ours and coming home. Clark, we want you home. And Chloe knows. Jonathon, it's Chloe."

There was silence, then. "You're... coming home?"

Clark swallowed hard and Chloe gripped his shoulder. "If you can help us."

"But can't you just... Is Chloe still there?"

He rolled his eyes. Just a little. "Dad, she knows."

"Oh. Okay. So can't you just... you know? Run home?"

"Not now," he said sadly. "Maybe not... ever again. And we're tired and cold and..."

"You're cold?" Martha gasped. "Jonathon, he's cold. Clark's never cold!"

"I know," Jonathon sighed. "Clark, what happened? Tell us everything."

"Well, I threw this crystal and then these other giant crystals rose up out of the snow and then there was..."

Chloe was about to tell him to cut to the chase when Martha's voice cut in. "Hold on." Martha's voice became slightly muffled. "Honey, we're spending over five dollars a minute on this call as it is and I'd rather get the answers later and get our boy now." Her voice got louder. "We'll get you home, Clark. You too, Chloe."

"Oh.... Well, my dad can probably..."

"No offense to your dad," Jonathon sighed. "But I don't think he's ready for all this."

She stared down at Clark's jacket, thinking he wasn't. And the fact that he'd been unemployed all year meant she couldn't even go to him for the money it would take to get home from Canada. That didn't mean the Kents had the money, either. In fact, their barely hushed conversation about whether the Visa or the Mastercard still had credit showed they didn't.

"Please don't worry about me," she said loudly, feeling wretched and burdensome.

She felt Clark's breath puffing on her forehead. "If you think I'd go home without you," he began a little hotly, but didn't get to finish because Martha cut in.

"It really is fine, Sweetie," Martha cooed. "It's not much more trouble getting two people home than one and it's just... a nice, long drive. I've never been to Canada." Her voice became hushed again, but Chloe could hear them.

"... two days drive. We can't... A bus might..." 

"... need their licenses to get back over the border... take the first shift." 

"... have to get them somewhere to sleep."

Clark seemed to vibrate with worry through the whole thing until that. "We have money," he piped up. "And there's a motel here. We can..."

"Good," Martha breathed. "Give us their number. We can charge two rooms and..."

"No. We have money and we don't need two..."

Chloe elbowed Clark in the stomach and took the receiver. "What Clark means is we don't need you to charge the rooms. We have enough money for rooms of our own for the night."

Clark glanced at the motel's sign, "We don't have enough for two..."

Chloe elbowed him again and pulled the receiver down, held it against her gurgling stomach. "Clark..."

"What? We can share a room."

"Of course we can, but we don't want them knowing that." Chloe pulled the receiver up and slapped it against her ear. "Clark's forgetting my graduation money." 

"Well, It was my..."

She elbowed him once more and held the phone down again. "You said you didn't want them to know about it," she whispered.

"Okay," he groaned. "But stop hitting me." 

She pulled it up again, hoping he'd let her do the talking this time. "Got some cash from my aunt Edith." She forced a laugh. "It's just burning a hole in my pocket, you know, and I'm sure they'll take American. So we can each get rooms and meet you at..." She looked out of the booth. "In front of the Hideaway Motor Lodge."

"We can be there in 49 hours if we hurry," Jonathon said. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"We'll be fine. Please don't worry about us. We've survived caves and wolves and..."

"Oh, yeah." Clark gripped the phone. "Dad, I chased off a wolf and we found an ice-fishing shack and I remembered what you said about body..."

"Five dollars a minute," Chloe hissed. Not just because of the cost, but because she didn't want Clark telling his dad they slept naked and generated body heat and got hammered in a cabin.

"And we can tell you all about it on the way home," he said. But not really, Chloe mentally added. They'd have to get this whole story down to a nice PG-13 before they shared it. They'd also have to figure out where they'd been all week as far as the rest of the world, and particularly Lex Luthor, was concerned.

"You two hang on," Martha said. "We're just glad you're okay."

"And we're glad you're coming home," Jonathon added. 

"Things are going to be different, though," Clark said sadly. "Dad, I've lost all my powers and now I can't..."

"We'll figure things out, Son. And we'll get by. We always do. We'll... see you soon."

Clark moved away, at least as much as he could, replaced the receiver reluctantly, and closed his eyes.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." But he wasn't and, if the way he flinched from her touch didn't convince her, then him glaring at the phone did the job. "I just... I'm just..." He took a deep breath and seemed to shake it off. "I'm fine except for the stabbing pain in my gut. Somebody must have been hitting me or something."

Chloe touched his stomach, feeling just a little bad about that. "It was more like a nudge."

"A hard bony nudge." he glanced sideways at her. "Anyway, you're a good liar." He pulled the door and moved out of the booth and she followed him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He turned slightly at the curb. "Nothing bad. I kind of wish you'd known about me when it was... necessary." His voice trailed off at the last word and his face grew taut.

She grabbed his arm. "Clark, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He shook her off and crossed the street to the Hideaway Motor Lodge. "Just would have been handy to have you around before. I'm probably the worst liar and I had to do it all the time."

"Yeah. You were always pretty bad," she said, deciding to drop it for now as he was about to enter the motel lobby, "which is why you should let me handle the rooms."

"Chloe," he sighed, "I got this. I used to negotiate at the farmer's market all the time." 

"But you're a guy."

"Exactly. So let me handle this." He stared at the doors and pulled their combined money from his pocket. "We have sixty-five dollars and change American and the rooms are forty a night Canadian, so if I can..."

"Wrong," she cut in, pushing him backward and grabbing the fifty out of his hand. "I only had a fifty dollar bill in my pocket and I didn't even get to exchange it because someone stole my bags with the rest of my money at the bus station." She rubbed her eyes and even managed to get her lower lip to tremble. "I just really wanted to see Canada and now I'm tired and dirty and my parents are driving up from Minnesota to get me, but I have nowhere to sleep and I'm all alone..."

"Jeez, you really are good."

"I've talked my way into more secure places," she said as she moved to the doors and schooled her face into abject despair and pulled her jacket from her shoulders. "This is nothing."


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