Restless Nights (Chapter Fourteen)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;

Chapter Fourteen

“… so if Zhang says the dreams are needed to process memories and discard the unneeded ones, then…” Chloe shrugged. “Isn’t remembering your dreams counter-productive, anyway? I mean, if it’s basically like a computer defragmenting the drive, then dreams are just recyclable files…”

“I’m going to have to stop your there,” Sarah cut in. “I know you spent some time with a supercomputer taking you over, but… Are you comparing something as complex as the human mind to…”

“No,no, no. It’s just an example.”

But she had made that comparison once. And it didn’t work out so well for Sebastian Kane… She pushed the name and the memory away quickly. Was it crazy that there were things she was afraid to tell Sarah, of all people? She seemed so nice and understanding. 

“I’m just trying to put forth the idea that me not remembering my dreams is perfectly healthy and maybe even preferable to remembering them. That’s all.”

Sarah nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it.”

“Chloe, I’m not telling you what to feel. I’m just…” Sarah took a deep breath. “You know, I can even see the mind as a computer if you want me to. Not like a box or a screen, but like a…” She closed her eyes, smiling. “Maybe like a beautiful map, like a power grid with all different colors depending on what they do. I guess the physical stimuli would be plain white light and the emotional would be light blue or yellow and the frontal…”

Chloe sort of zoned out about there, more interested in watching Sarah’s face animate as she went on. She liked to talk… and a lot. Chloe only had to put something forth and Sarah would take it into the stratosphere, trying so hard to see her point of view, citing theories and quotes…

“… and, as Emily Dickinson would say, the brain is wider than the sky.”

For example.

“So I guess… no,” Sarah finally finished. “I guess I don’t agree the brain is like a computer.”

Sometimes failing to see her point of view. Hell, Chloe couldn't complain. Most times, she didn't even know what her point of view was.

Chloe sat back. “Then I don’t know what it’s like.”

“Oh, no!” Sarah leaned forward. “I’m not saying it’s not fine that you do. I just think that dreams do have meaning.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Is this that dream analysis stuff where, if I dream of shoes, I’m really thinking about something deeper because I don’t believe in all that…”

“No. I’m not saying to look that deep. I’m not exactly a Freudian or a Jungian on dreams. Things are what they are and dreams are a way of organizing and processing what goes on. So I do agree with you that dreams are just your mind sorting through things that run through it without, most times, any logic or reason. Like… I don’t know. Last night I had a dream I was watching TV and controlling what happened like a video game. It’s not something I thought of at the time, but I remember rather wishing I had more control. Dreams can highlight your desires or even calm your fears – like how I thought Danny Devito was creepy when I was little and dreamed he was coming after my family and we had to get away. I find him funny now, but dreams can make it all seem rather silly, but that’s because they’re not housed in the part of your brain dealing with logic. They don’t make sense. But that doesn’t mean they’re meaningless. I mean… What was your last dream? The last one you remember?”

Chloe was rather hoping they’d drop the dream thing. “I don’t even…”

“Or any dream. Just for an example.”

“Okay.” Chloe leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes. “Well, the last dream I remember, I was going into the Talon’s basement, following this trail of rose petals and…” she stopped. That dream. It had started so nice, all of that curiosity about Davis, that attraction, that hope that he could fill the empty places left in her at that time and that she could make him a better man… It seemed in her grasp in that dream. Then the horror began, that trail of blood…

"What did you think was gonna happen?" he’d said.

“It was just a dream,” she hissed. 

“Chloe?”

“It didn’t happen.”

“Chloe…”

“But it could have. It kills me that it could have.”

“Chloe!”

She opened her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. What could have happened?”

She shook her head. “I can’t talk about it.” She could barely think about it, Clark hanging on the wall like a gory trophy.

Sarah stared at her for a long time. “I just… I feel like you’re still fighting this, fighting me,” she sighed. “Listen, we don’t have to talk about dreams if you don’t want to,” she went on. “We can talk about your father. I mean, you mentioned him before but never went into it.”

“Because there’s nothing to go into,” Chloe said, clearing her throat and reaching for her decaf. Sarah was right. It did taste almost as strong as the real thing. “I graduated high school, he moved away.” She shrugged. “Short of tracking him down, which he obviously doesn’t want, there’s no talking that out. He left because…” She stopped.

Sarah just waited.

“Well, because of the danger. Who wouldn’t? Junior year of high school ends, we enter witness protection and almost get blown up. How many dads would put up with that? Then he was blacklisted to start with, so… Maybe he was right to leave. Besides, I had a scholarship to Met U. I was fine on my own. I’m still fine on my own. And I’m not even on my own.”

Sarah just stared at her hands.

“Aren’t you going to say something?”

“I’m trying to decide,” Sarah said softly.

“Are you always this hard to read?” Chloe stood. 

“Do you want to be able to read me?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe said, pacing the room. “How do you work with the rest of them?”

Sarah paused for what seemed like a long time. “I don’t know if I should talk about my methods with anyone else. Everyone is different.” Sarah stood as well. “But I will say that every single one of you seems to move from crisis to crisis, never dealing with the aftermath, never talking it out beyond a word or two…”

“Well, isn't that what you're here for? To make them talk?”

Sarah shook her head. “Sure, if they’d let me,” she muttered, then stiffened. “I will say that I am a good ear and I can be trusted to keep a secret. I’m sure you know something about that, yourself. Chloe…” Sarah stepped in front of her. “You don’t have to be strong every second. You don’t have to hold it in. You can say what you feel even when it’s messy and undefined.”

“But I have no right to feel…” Chloe pressed her lips into a firm line.

“Feel what?”

“See, I have all this help and I still feel… I can’t even tell anyone… I can’t even… I’m…”

“Just say it,” Sarah whispered, taking her hand.

“Alone,” Chloe finally finished, tears streaming from her eyes. “I feel like I can’t even say it because I have so many people here for me. I feel like it’s stupid. But…”

“It’s not stupid. It’s something you feel and it’s valid.” Sarah grasped her other hand.

“But they’re all trying so hard…”

“That doesn’t mean it works all the time.”

“I miss Lois,” she sobbed. “And I can’t have her.”

“You can still miss her,” Sarah said softly. “You’re allowed.”

“I can’t have my dad. He can’t take this life I have. But I still miss him.”

Sarah pulled her in. 

“I want my mom, not even my mom as she is, but as I want her to be,” Chloe sobbed into Sarah’s shoulder. “And I know that can’t happen.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t want it,” Sarah said softly, stroking her back. “You can feel pain, even the kind that can’t be fixed. You can feel anything, even joy if you want to.”

“Joy?” Chloe pulled away. “About what? What is there to be happy about?”

“I’m not saying…”

“There’s nothing happy about this. Martha… she says she wants to plan the baby shower and I want to ask her why.” Chloe paced away, swiping angrily at her eyes. “This thing inside me… I can’t feel joy about it. I won’t!”

“See, you say can’t and won’t, but I haven’t heard you say you don’t. Chloe…”

“I’d be fool to love something so… something that could be so dangerous!”

“But that’s not stopping you, is it?”

“No,” she sobbed… then laughed. “I find myself… I… I care about this baby.” She broke into sobs again. “But I don’t want to love him… it… him,” she finally breathed, sliding down the wall and to the floor. She glanced up to find a tissue fluttering in front of her face. She took it. “So… What? Is this hormones or am I crazy?”

“Those are some pretty limited choices.” Sarah crouched in front of her. “Maybe you’re only human,” Sarah said with a slight smile.

“So how do you fix that?”

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

“You can’t.”

“I can’t?” Chloe held onto her one and only box. “I want to take it up. It’s not even heavy.”

“I’m just helping,” Clark huffed.

“And I’m refusing your help.” He’d already got all her storage stuff crammed in there. The least she could do is carry one measly box. “So let me.”

He sighed and ushered her into the elevator. “Just… I was thinking I’d arrange the furniture first, so you’d see the whole.”

“Clark, is this about the color?”

“Well…”

“I gave you free reign and I trust your judgment.”

“Even if you hate it?”

“I don’t think I will,” she said as she stepped off the elevator and moved to her door. “I… don’t,” she said when she opened it.

She stared around her, at the hard wood floors, the boxes scattered around, the furniture covered in sheets and the walls… a pale peach.

“You hate it,” Clark groaned. “I don’t know. I took a chance. I should have just done them in eggshell or cream so it would…”

“I just said I don’t hate it,” she said, moving into the main room. She uncovered her couch. It was beige, would go with anything, but she couldn’t help but see her orange throw pillows against this peach wall… “I like it.” She thought of her turquoise accents pieces, her fruit bowl that was… in one of these boxes. It would all go well together. “I think it’s perfect. It’s…” Her eye caught on a splash of color in the streetside corner with the slanted ceiling. It was blue.

When she moved closer she saw three white shelves along the upper wall in that little nook. They hadn’t been there before.

Clark moved into it, running a hand along the shelves. “I figured they’d come in handy. For books or toys or… just anything you want to use them for.”

Chloe blinked several times, turned away from him, stared at the wall instead, where it was divided between peach and blue. “How did you know?”

“You know, I keep thinking,” Clark said softly, “about this situation. I try not to. I think about how you have to eat right and sleep well and see Emil and I never… Well, it’s just so much easier for me to focus on the whats instead of the whys.”

Chloe let out a ragged breath. “It’s not always easy for me, either.”

“I know it isn’t,” Clark said gently. “That’s why I feel like such an ass, thinking of it being hard for me.”

She turned away, moving into the main room. “We haven’t talked about it. Have we?”

“No. I keep waiting until you’re ready. But I thought… Well, I knew the moment we saw this place, what this space would be. I could just see it in your eyes.” She felt him close the distance, so close behind her now. “Chloe… Do you want to talk about it? I know you’ve talked about it with Sarah. You must have, but… Do you want to talk about it with me?”

She shook her head, not meaning no. Just meaning she needed a second. He seemed to get the message. He didn’t move away. “I don’t even know,” she said after a moment. “I have no idea what’s going to happen, how I’m going to get through it. The only thing I’m sure of is...” She took a deep breath and turned to face Clark. “I can’t leave this kid’s future to chance. I can’t let it be like with Tess or Davis.” She held his stare. “Not everyone is lucky enough to be snapped up by Jonathon and Martha Kent.”

“Don't I know it," he said softly.

“You didn’t go into everything Tess told you.” She smiled sadly and moved close to him. “But she grew up afraid and unloved and Davis... Clark, he told me things, awful things.” She shuddered and his hands moved to cradle her arms. “I don't know what problems this baby's going to bring, but I know one thing.” She met his eyes. “I don't want him to face them alone.”

He held her gaze. “The same goes for you,” he said before pulling her in.

Later that night, her last in her little room, she did dream. She woke from it, gasping, trying to remember so she could tell Sarah. But it was all so vague. She could remember holding a warm bundle close to her, running. She didn’t even remember from what. She did remember stopping, unwrapping her bundle and smiling… until the unwrapping seemed to never end. Why couldn’t she see its face?

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

“And it’s the same dream. I don’t know if I’m having others, but this one keeps coming back. I’m kind of missing not dreaming if this is what I get.”

Sarah hummed to herself and nodded. “Recurring dreams can be telling you something. Antti Revonsuo thought that their function was to simulate threatening events and then rehearse avoidance behaviors, like your mind is helping you prepare to meet your fears. But let’s get back to the dream. You can’t see his face and you feel frustrated…”

“It’s not just that I can’t see him that bothers me. It’s when I hear another voice and start running again.”

“Whose voice is it?”

“That’s the part that bothers me. Why would I run from him?” she breathed.

“Who, Chloe?”

“Well, it’s all so hazy and I don’t even know why, but it’s Clark. I hear his voice and I just panic and take off running again. It seems wrong to be afraid of Clark, even in my dream. It makes no sense.”

“Dreams rarely do. And running from him doesn’t mean you’re afraid of him. But the dream does have you afraid of something.” Sarah frowned. “Why don’t we talk about Clark? Have you told him about this dream?”

“No.” She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t like to tell Clark about things like this. He’d want to fix it for me even if it’s not something that can be fixed.”

“Well, he’s like most men that way. They don’t always get that telling them about something doesn’t mean you want them to do something about it. But what do you mean by things like this? You said the two of you would spend most nights, through the years, talking things out.”

“Well, that was mostly… crisis control.” Chloe shrugged. “'What are we going to do about Lex? How are we going to protect Lana? What’s Brainiac gone and done this time?'” She let out a slight laugh. “Or, my old favorite, ‘stop blaming yourself, Clark.’ See, it’s hard to tell him things when he takes it all inside, finds some way it’s his fault, tries to make it up to you somehow when… I just don’t want him to take this on, too.”

“Hmm.”

Chloe sighed. “Out with it. What does ‘hmm’ mean now?”

“Just that, as protective as you are about your friends, Clark seems to be the one you use most of your energy on. Kind of funny when he’s the most invulnerable, physically.”

“Maybe he needs more of my energy. I mean, he’s definitely not invulnerable in every way. Plus, there’s always something out to get him. Is it any wonder it was hard to leave Smallville? He needed me.”

“Hmm.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “What? Is this more about my need to be needed? I’m dealing with the turning of the tables very well these days.” She took a deep breath. “I’m accepting help and knowing it doesn’t make me weak and…”

“No. This is just… Clark. It’s just funny how, here you are, living in Metropolis and Clark spends so much time here… I feel like I rarely come here without finding him around. I just wonder, if that wasn’t the case, if you’d have looked for a place in Smallville.”

“What? I’ve been practical about this. I wouldn’t have… It was about time I lived in the city.”

“Still, I wonder…” Sarah stood and clapped her hands. “But I think our time’s about up. I really want to get Victor to look at my tablet before I have to get to class. Stupid thing keeps hanging when I try to switch screens.”

“You know, I have some experience with those. If you want me to…”

“Oh, no. I just… You know, I already told Victor about it. He’s already expecting to… Not that I wouldn’t trust your skills, just…”

“No. It’s fine. He’s definitely the number one tech guy in these parts,” Chloe said, smiling. But I wonder, she thought but didn’t say. 

But she did watch Sarah and Victor in the commissary, sitting at a corner table, sometimes looking at the tablet, sometimes each other – though never at the same time. It was almost more like watching two awkward teenagers than two fully grown adults.

“…thinking just some very light cardio, a little resistance training to strengthen your lower back before our time in the pool,” Dinah was saying.

“Uh-huh.” She was fine with the exercise, not excited, but she’d been putting up with it. She craned her neck to look over Dinah’s shoulder, more interested in Victor and Sarah right now. He was touching her hand. Sure, he was just moving her finger on the touch screen, but it was physical contact and she could swear Sarah was flushed.

“Of course, I’ll have to follow that by two hours of hard cardio on my own, after I drop you off. Damn Bart Allen to Hell.”

“Hmm?” She turned her attention back to Dinah. “Why?”

“Well, he had to go and try his hand at scones last night,” she grumbled, biting into one.

Chloe chuckled. “Does that mean you’re forced to eat them?”

“No, but still,” she said with her mouth full, “damn Bart.”

“Why this time?”

Chloe glanced up at Clark. “Bart made scones.”

Clark shrugged. “Cool. Are there more?"

"Yes."

"Your tea.” He placed a cup down.

“Thanks.”

Clark frowned. “Where’s your coat?”

“Must have left it at my place. I’ll get it in a…” 

He disappeared. 

Dinah chuckled. “He always do that?”

“I guess. Clark tends to run off with no notice. It’s just…”

“I mean bring you tea.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess he’s been doing it every morning for so long now, I’ve gotten used to it.”

Dinah leaned in. “Don’t you have tea at home?”

“Yeah. But I’ve kind of got accustomed to this one tea from an uptown bakery. It’s decaf, but nice and strong and Clark says it’s no big deal, so…”

“Here.” Clark dropped her coat on one of the empty chairs. “I put your gloves in your pocket, too, since you walked over her without even them,” he chided.

She rolled her eyes. “Clark, it’s twenty feet, door to door. I was just coming for my session with Sarah.”

“Still, it’s cold.”

“The idea that you get colds from cold weather is a long-disproven…”

“That doesn’t mean you take chances.” He looked at Dinah’s plate. “So are there more scones?”

“In there.” Dinah nodded to the kitchen before turning back to Chloe as Clark disappeared. “He always do that, too?”

“You hang around Bart enough. Aren’t you used to people rushing off and…”

“No. I mean the way he just gets whatever you need, then goes all…”

“Mother hen?” Chloe finished on a chuckle. “I guess I’m used to that, too.”

“I wasn’t going to say that, exactly.”

Chloe lifted her eyes back to Victor and Sarah. They were standing up now and they seemed to be having trouble saying goodbye. She couldn’t hear it, but it seemed whenever one of them seemed to be walking away, the other one spoke, prolonging things.

She sighed, shaking her head. “How can two people be so obviously crazy about each other and refuse to just… say it?”

“Wow.”

She turned her attention back to Dinah, who was wide-eyed. “What?”

“I’m just surprised you’re actually talking about it.”

Chloe leaned in. “I’ve actually been dying to talk about it. Do you see it, too?”

“Well, of course I see it,” Dinah whispered. “It’s been the biggest elephant in the room for so long now.”

“I know! But the thing is… People can only dance around these feelings for so long. Someone has to be the first to admit it.”

Dinah gasped. “So am I to take you admitting it to me as… I mean, is your next step telling him?”

“Me? Telling him?” Chloe scoffed and shook her head. “I think it’s going to have to be up to Sarah to tell him.”

Dinah sat back. “Am I missing something about how therapy works? I mean, that seems above and beyond for her to tell Clark something so… personal.”

“Clark? What does he have to do with…”

“You ready?”

She turned to see Clark, munching on a scone. “Yeah. I’m…” She trailed off, staring at Clark, then at Dinah… who was staring between her and Clark and grinning. “No,” she said to Dinah.

“No?” Clark checked his watch. “Well, we need to leave now if…”

“No. I mean yes. I am ready,” she said to Clark absently before turning to Dinah. “And no to your question and we’ll talk later,” she said in a rush as she stood.

“Chloe!” Clark breathed.

She turned back to him. “What?”

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

She glanced down at her skirt and blouse. It was one of her old ones and it was a bit clingy. Today, for the first time, she wanted to accentuate her pregnancy rather than hide it. “I know. It’s a little tight, but that’s the point. I’ll explain on the way to...”

“A little?” Clark grabbed up her coat and put it over her, looking a bit red-faced.

“There you go, Clark,” Dinah drawled, leaning back in her chair. “Don’t want anyone else to get a look at the goods.”

“Stop it,” Chloe hissed, shrugging her coat on all the way. “Come on, Clark.” She’d straighten Dinah out later. “I think we should get a cab,” she said as they stepped out the door, pulling her gloves from her pocket.

“To work? It’s not that far. Unless…” Clark turned to her on the stoop, moving closer. “Are you tired?”

“No. I’m okay.” She stepped away, then down the stairs, wondering if it was just this kind of solicitude that was giving Dinah the wrong idea. “We’re not going right to The Planet. I left a message for Tess that we have a morning meeting, one last stop for our story.”

“But we have all we need for…”

“Let me rephrase. One last place we can visit on company time using our story as an excuse. I was trying to get a weekend appointment, but couldn’t.”

Clark followed her to the curb. “A weekend appointment where?”

“You know where,” she said with a withering glance at him. 

“Saint Louise’s opted out. We can’t…”

“Tess doesn’t know that. Besides, we aren’t visiting as reporters, exactly.”

“I thought we were dropping this,” he grumbled.

“No. We mothballed it temporarily. But it’s getting closer to Christmas and we need to get it over with. Both the story and the… extraneous bits.” She opened her coat. “Do I look pregnant enough? I mean, I’m 21 weeks now, so I think I’m starting to show enough that…”

“Chloe, what are you planning to do?”

She smiled widely as two cabs passed her on their way to midtown’s morning rush “Just to hail a cab… to start.”

“Good luck,” he muttered. “They never stop in this part of town.”

“Yeah?” She opened her coat more fully and placed her other hand on her lower back, morphing her smile into a pained grimace. 

A cab screeched to a stop, the window rolling down. “You okay, Sweetheart?” the voice inside rasped. 

“I'm okay, but thanks so much for stopping. My feet are killing me,” she moaned, though she made sure to cradle her stomach. She turned to Clark as she opened the door. “Come on!”

He glowered, but he followed.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I've just got to update another fic, then I'll be back to this one for the next two chapters.