Chlark Fanfic: Crisis, Chapter 11
Continuing with my Chlarky updates, and finally, a new chapter of Crisis. - a nice long one. Hope you like it.
And I still love feedback. :-)
Enjoy.
Title: Crisis
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlark/Kaloe
Rating: NC-17 (this chapter PG-13)
Warnings: Some bad language
Timeline: Season 2-3 (Exodus - Exile; Clark’s RedK Summer)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: A violent encounter between Chloe and Clark threatens to destroy their friendship forever.
Feedback: …is love. J
Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.
Chapter 11
“Wake up, Sunshine, you’re gonna be late.”
Chloe gasped as her father knocked at her door. Quick as a flash, she turned off her computer screen, hurried into bed and dragged the comforter over her head, making sure her clothing was fully covered.
“Dad?” she called weakly. “Dad, I don’t feel well.”
The door opened slowly and Gabe Sullivan stepped into the room. “Hey, what’s the problem, sweetie?” he asked, regarded his daughter with concern.
“Not sure,” she sniffed, exaggerating the grogginess in her voice. “Flu, maybe?”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her forehead. “Hmm…your temperature seems fine, but you look really wasted.”
“I haven’t slept a wink all night,” she replied honestly. “I’m really tired.”
“You rest up, Peanut, I’ll call the school and let them know you won’t be coming in today,” he said. “Do you want me to bring a tray up before I leave?”
She shook her head. “I’m just a bit peaky, Dad, I’m not dying,” she said with a feeble smile. “You go on to work, I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Positive. I can still find my way to the fridge.”
He smiled indulgently. “Well, if you insist.” He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and ruffled her hair. “Feel better soon, okay?”
“Will do. Love you, Daddy.”
He left the room and closed the door behind him. Chloe stayed in bed for several more minutes, thankful that she did because despite her protests he was back at her door moments later with a tray.
“Get some food in you, and take a few aspirin,” he said, placing the tray of toast, cereal and orange juice in front of her. “Call me at lunchtime if you still feel sick, okay?”
***
As soon as she heard the car pull away from the drive, Chloe flung the covers off and returned to her desk. At the touch of a button the computer screen activated again, and she focused on the words on the webpage in front of her.
Virgil Swann had published a wealth of articles in Time magazine and other publications, all detailed with extensive levels of scientific astronomical information. As time had gone on, the articles became more and more focused on a particular topic; the existence of life on other planets, and the odds and possibilities of alien life finding its way to earth.
The last one had been published shortly before the meteor shower. A month later, Virgil Swann retired from public life and became a recluse, continuing to work on his theory but ostensibly keeping his research and his opinions to himself.
Until six months ago, when he’d inundated her email inbox with messages for Clark following the appearance of the symbol burned into Clark’s barn that she’d published in the school paper. Not only had he referred to the strange symbol, he’d also translated it.
At her urging (and clearly to satisfy his own curiosity), Clark had visited Dr Swann’s New York Planetarium - but he’d never discussed the trip with her. Of even more concern had been the obvious change in him after his return from his fact-finding mission. He’d been withdrawn, surly and constantly worried. A month after that, he’d disappeared. It wasn’t too much of a stretch of the imagination to realise that it was all connected.
Dr Swann had embraced the digital age and stored his research data online. Unfortunately, he’d also had his records protected from public view by some very hi-tech online security.
It had taken several hours to hack through Virgil Swann’s encrypted files, and the sun had been breaking through the clouds on the horizon by the time the last segment of the encryption had been broken. But it had been worth it. Document after document of detailed research appeared to confirm everything Clark had told her about his being an alien, and about his imploded home planet of Krypton.
She was particularly interested in an audio file recorded by Swann shortly after Clark’s visit.
It’s been almost seventeen years, but everything I postulated has come to pass, he said. Kal-El of Krypton lives, having survived his journey across the galaxy to land in the sleepy little town of Smallville, where he has been raised as Clark Kent, the son of a farming family.
He has superhuman abilities, as I suspected, something which he keeps hidden from the world for fear of discovery; completely understandable. It must be difficult for one so young to constantly be on guard and suppress the reality of who he is, and present a façade of normalcy to the world.
The transmission from his vessel indicates that he has a noble destiny, and will grow up to be the world’s hero. But he continues to turn his back on his Kryptonian side and yearn to be normal, and this worries me. I fear that his reluctance to embrace his full nature will lead to grave consequences, to say the least. For one who denies his destiny may end up being the cause of as much pain and suffering as his greatest enemy.
She’d listened to that tape at least twenty times, each time uncovering a little more of the mystery. Clark hadn’t been lying; he was an alien. Virgil Swann had dedicated his life to the study of life in the universe, and he knew what he was talking about.
She leaned back and rested her chin on her hand. From the research and from Dr Swann’s audio assessment, the primary concern seemed to revolve around Clark’s desire to be normal, and his rejection of his ‘Kryptonian side.’ It would certainly explain why he carried out his heroics anonymously, though she assumed that had more to do with a desire not to get hauled off by the authorities and experimented on in a lab for the rest of his life.
Her brow furrowed in deep thought. Is that what had happened in Metropolis? Had he embraced his ‘Kryptonian side’ and found it not to be what he thought it was? Was that the reason why he’d said that his name was Kal just before he’d…?
She sighed deeply and poured herself a glass of orange juice from the carton on the tray. She’d gather as much knowledge on Clark’s origins as she could, and then confront him again when she was armed to the teeth with full facts.
***
Hey - where’s Chloe today?
Clark shifted in his seat as he studied the note that Pete had just passed across to him. Good question; he’d been asking himself the same thing all morning.
He turned to Pete and shrugged before scribbling on the note and passing it back.
No clue, but I’ll find out after class.
The teacher droned on about 21st century economics, but he tuned her out completely, his concern for Chloe foremost in his mind. God, he would hate it if she was now too scared to be in the same school with him. He had a faint hope that she was just still mulling over everything he’d told her yesterday; after all, it wasn’t everyday you found out one of your closest friends was an alien, especially after what he’d put her through.
He had made the right decision giving her the one thing that could stem his powers and weaken him, a huge risk, to be sure, but one that seemed to be working because she hadn’t turned him over to the authorities just yet.
There was still hope.
He felt his classmate prod him in the back with the soft side of a pencil as the crumpled note returned.
She’s been acting weird all week. Any idea what’s up with that?
Clark sighed wearily. He should have known that Pete would notice that Chloe was off her game, and start asking questions. How on earth was he going to be able to answer this?
He took a deep breath and did what he always did in these situations.
No.
He passed the note back, hopeful that the short answer would stem the tide of Pete’s never ending questions.
He’d hoped wrong.
And you’re not even curious or worried that something - or someone - might be upsetting her? he asked in the note by way of reply.
Clark clenched his jaw hard. For the first time in his life, he wished that Pete wasn’t quite so astute when it came to Chloe.
He passed the note back with a deflection.
After class, Pete - I think Miss Roberts has noticed us.
It worked. For the rest of the class, Pete sat up straight and kept his eyes on the board.
As soon as the bell rang signalling the end of the lesson, both he and Pete got to their feet and made their way to the front of the class, where the teacher was wiping the blackboard.
“Hey boys! How can I help you?” she asked with a smile as she put the duster down.
“Miss Roberts, Pete and I were wondering why Chloe’s absent from school today,” he said hesitantly. “Has she been in touch at all?”
“Her dad rang this morning; he said she wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t be coming into school today.”
“Oh. Did he say what it was?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t give any specifics, no.”
“Okay, thanks.” They made their way into the hall and started towards the lockers.
“So what do you think is wrong with her?” Pete asked as they headed towards the lockers.
Clark shrugged. “It’s probably just that time of the month, or something.”
Pete snorted. “She’s never had time off for that time of the month before,” he pointed out. “Hope it’s not too serious.”
Clark’s hand stilled as he reached into his locker, his blood turning to ice in his veins. Dear God, he hadn’t even thought in that direction, but…
God.
What if he’d gotten her pregnant?
The hand that was still now shook almost violently, and he had to clench it into a fist to keep it steady. He took a deep breath, and started to think.
Okay, it was a little too early to tell, but it was certainly something to be concerned about. If she was pregnant, she would have a whole new set of problems to deal with. First of all would be the issue of whether or not she wanted to keep the baby - and given the circumstances of its conception, he wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t. Second of all, not only would she be carrying a baby, she’d be carrying a half-Kryptonian baby. There was no precedent for whether or not that was something that she was likely to survive.
“Dude, are you listening to me?” Pete said, shaking his shoulder. “We’re gonna be late for math unless you snap out of it.”
Clark blinked and nodded, grabbing his books and slamming his locker shut. “Uh…sure. Let’s go.”
Pete regarded him oddly. “You’re holding History books, Clark.”
He glanced down and saw that he did indeed have his history texts in his hands. “Oh. Right.”
Carefully he opened his locker and selected the correct books, all the while conscious of Pete’s curious eye on him.
“I hope you did your homework,” he said, trying to make conversation as they headed towards class.
Pete was silent for a moment. “Yeah, I did,” he finally answered quietly. “And I will.”
Clark managed to keep his expression blank as they filed into the math class with the rest of the students. Now in addition to worrying about Chloe and her potential condition, he had to be cautious of Pete and what he might uncover.
***
“Dad, I told you I was feeling a lot better,” Chloe still insisted as her father bundled her into the car.
“I’ll feel a lot more confident of that once you’ve been properly checked out, honey,” he said grimly. “I’m not taking any chances with your health. Besides, you need a doctor’s note for the school records.”
Chloe sighed and buckled up. Before long they were at Smallville Medical Centre and as soon as they walked through the doors, her heart almost hammered to a stop.
Right there at the reception desk was Diane Warnock, the triage nurse who’d attended to her after the assault.
Quickly she covered her face with one hand and made a ninety-degree turn towards the toilets, leaving her surprised father standing in the hallway.
“Chloe -?”
“Be right back!” she called over her shoulder as she hurried into the ladies’ room, praying that he didn’t decide to go ahead and register her in on his own.
The doors swung shut behind her and she took a few deep breaths, composing herself. Maybe she’d panicked prematurely; after all, Diane wasn’t at liberty to discuss personal details of her medical files with anyone, not even her own father. Hopefully she was professional enough not to let anything slip.
As she stood there alone with her musings, she heard one of the toilets flush. The door to the only occupied stall opened, a woman stepped out into the main area.
Chloe lifted her head to acknowledge the other person with a polite smile - and froze. Staring back at her was Martha Kent, who looked like she hadn’t slept well in days.
***
Chapter 12…