Chlark Fanfic: Crisis, Chapter 17
Another Crisis update. Y'all gotta love me. :-)
Enjoy!
Title: Crisis
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlark/Kaloe
Rating: NC-17 (this chapter PG-13)
Warnings: None
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 17
Immediately Pete sprang into action and slammed the locker shut, shutting off the awful radiating pain.
“Hey, are you alright?” he asked with concern as he bent to help Clark up.
Clark took a deep breath and stood as the pain abated. “I am now, thanks. The lockers must be lead-lined or something; I didn’t feel anything until it was opened.”
“Hey Clark - everything okay there?” called Matt, one of the people who’d helped him earlier in the week.
“Yeah, he’s good,” replied Pete hastily. “Jammed his finger in the locker door.”
“Ouch! That’s gotta hurt,” replied Matt, wincing. “Look after yourself, man. Not your week, is it?”
“Massive understatement,” Pete murmured as the other man walked away.
“Thanks for covering for me,” Clark said lamely. Not surprisingly, his gratitude went unacknowledged.
“There are only two people in the world apart from you who know your hall locker combination, Clark,” Pete said grimly as they walked down the corridor towards the boy’s bathroom. “One of them is me. The other one’s Chloe. Now don’t tell me there’s nothing going on between you two, because by my count, this is the second time she’s tried to kill you.”
“She’s not trying to kill me,” Clark protested.
“But she does know your secret, right?”
Clark gulped. “Yes, I - I told her a while ago.”
Pete’s stilled and his eyes widened. “And you didn’t think to tell me this?”
Clark sighed. “I…kinda forgot,” he managed.
“Huh. And this whole elaborate krypto-torture thing she’s got going on is not freaking you out?” Pete exclaimed, puzzled. “Dude, whatever did you do to land this far down on her shitlist? It must have been something really bad, because your quiet acceptance of this makes me think like you deserve it, or something!””
Clark stared at the floor. “It’s complicated,” he finally whispered.
Pete folded his arms and stared hard at him for several seconds. Then he spoke.
“Look, you wait for me inside while I take care of the stuff in your locker,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll catch up with you shortly.”
Clark nodded and glanced around furtively before going into the boy’s bathroom and sitting down on one of the benches, deep in thought.
So was this was it was going to be like? Surprise kryptonite attacks when he least expected them? He knew he’d promised to go along with whatever she wanted to do but…
He shook his head wearily and sighed. How long did she plan to continue on in her campaign of torture? How many times did she have to hurt him until she felt like he’d paid for what he’d done?
Stupid questions, really. He knew deep down that she’d never recover from the huge breach of trust of having been raped by her best friend, no matter what she did to try and get her sanity back. His worry now was what her chosen method of vengeance might be turning her into. He had a feeling it had gone beyond mere revenge, and couldn’t even begin to think of what it was doing to her inside.
The doors to the bathroom opened and Pete came in, jarring him out of his thoughts.
“Three chunks this time,” he said grimly. “All gone.”
Clark nodded miserably. “Thanks Pete, I really owe you one.” He paused and thought briefly. “Or two,” he mused. “Three even, though if we count each chunk of kryptonite individually, then I suppose I owe you four because of the one earlier in the week-”
“Did you sleep with Chloe?”
Those five words from his friend made the blood drain from Clark’s face in shock. “Huh?” he said dumbly.
Pete folded his arms and stared him down. “It’s a simple enough question, Clark,” he said bluntly. “Did you have sex with Chloe?”
***
“Pies?” yelled an irate Lionel Luthor as he slammed the thick spiral-bound journal she’d sent to him by Special Delivery down on the table. “You call this…this junk…classified information on Clark Kent? A one hundred and twenty-two page exposé on pies??”
“Well, to be honest, they are his favourite pies, and I’m pretty sure those are him Mom’s private recipes,” she said with mock seriousness. “Ergo yes, that is classified information.”
Lionel stared at her as if she’d gone mad. “Do you think I find this…” he waved the thick tome in her face “…the least bit funny?”
She shrugged, drumming her fingers idly on the handles of the plush chair. “I actually thought it was most informative,” she replied blithely. “It was either that or a puff piece on why he’s so fond of that horrible red jacket of his.”
Lionel stalked around the solid oak desk and leaned over her, his face so close to hers his chestnut locks brushed her face. “You are playing a very dangerous game, Ms Sullivan,” he breathed threateningly.
“I’m not scared of you, Mr Luthor,” she replied swiftly, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet. “Now if we’re done here-”
Lionel grabbed her arm and she froze as his fingers dug painfully into her flesh. “You do not leave this office until you are granted permission to be excused, young lady-”
“Take your hands off me,” she said, enunciating each word coolly and clearly. “Now.”
His hand tightened further. “How dare you challenge me, you insolent little-”
He got no further. Quick as a flash her taser was out of her pocket and in her hands. She whacked his arm off hers with one hand and zapped him with fifty-thousand volts of electricity with the other.
It was strangely therapeutic to hear Lionel Luthor scream like a girl and fall on the floor in pain, his face contorted in topography-like lines.
“Don’t you ever put your hands on an unwilling woman again,” she said coldly.
Lionel’s face reddened with rage as he staggered to his feet. When he spoke, his voice was low and chilling.
“You have just made a very, very grievous mistake, Miss Sullivan,” he said harshly, his eyes as cold as flints. “Get out of my office this instant. And I wouldn’t bother returning to the Daily Planet, if I were you. Your desk will be cleared out before you reach the ground floor lobbymof this building.”
“Whatever, Mr Luthor,” she shot back. “I wanted to work at the Daily Planet, but not like this. You know where you can shove your job.”
“Ah, but it’s not just your job that you’ve jeopardised though, is it?” he said silkily, sitting at his desk and turning on his computer. “Come to think of it, I’ve been distinctly…unimpressed…with my Plant Manager’s performance of late.”
Chloe paled visibly, her heart pounding. “You wouldn’t,” she whispered.
Lionel shrugged and tapped out a quick message. “I most certainly would, considering he has a deceitful brat for a daughter who just physically attacked me.”
“I told you not to touch me!” she cried.
“And I told you not to test me,” he replied swiftly. “For your information, this is the draft letter for his immediate dismissal.”
“But my father has nothing to do with this!” she protested wildly.
“You put him in the middle of this, not I,” he said. “And people that have been summarily dismissed from my employ find it impossibly difficult to find work in the State of Kansas afterward.”
Oh, no. “Isn’t enough that you’re sacking him for no reason?” she blazed. “My God, do you have to blacklist him, as well?”
“My dear girl, this is simply corporate bloodsport,” he mocked. “Let’s see how he’ll manage those monthly mortgage payments when he’s back on the unemployment line and fending junkies off the YMCA soup queue.”
Chloe wanted to slap the smug smile off his leathery face. “You’re evil,” she seethed.
“Oh come, now,” he chuckled. “I can be lenient. Despite your insubordination, I’m willing to offer you one final reprieve.”
“What do you want?” she asked nervously.
He finished writing his message and turned to face her. “This is your last chance to give me what I want, Miss Sullivan,” he said smoothly. “What is it to be: your farmboy friend, or your father’s livelihood?”
Chloe wavered, genuinely torn. The last thing she’d wanted to do was put her father on Lionel Luthor’s radar. And for what? For Clark? After what he’d done to her, he deserved whatever he’d get at Lionel’s hands.
But she wasn’t naïve enough to believe that Lionel would leave her or her father alone even if she told him everything he wanted to know. She’d be his puppet, forced to spy on her friends, forever at his beck and call whilst he dangled her father as bait. If she didn’t get out of Lionel’s clutches now, she never would.
“Well?” he said impatiently as his hand hovered over the send button.
She stared at him, her face full of loathing. “You’re despicable,” she seethed. “Fuck you, Mr Luthor; do your worst. I’m done with this.”
“Very well.” He pressed send and flashed her an evil grin. “You picked the wrong businessman to play chicken with, Miss Sullivan. Good day.”
Chloe turned and walked out of his office, her head held high. But as soon as the elevator doors closed she buried her face in her hands, her heart heavy with despair.
Just when she’d thought her life couldn’t get any worse…
She sighed and wiped the tears from her face. There was no-one to blame but herself, really; she’d made a deal with the devil, knowing full well that Lionel Luther wasn’t to be trusted. And now her father was going to suffer the consequences.
A sudden thought occurred to her, and she shook her head and gave a harsh laugh. Yet again, the one person who had turned her life upside-down and come out of everything unscathed…was Clark. Somehow, despite everything he did to her, she always ended up protecting him.
Yet despite everything, she knew she’d made the right decision today. Handing Clark over to Lionel may have gotten them both out of her life for good, but she had no doubt that the world would have suffered as a result. Besides, she thought with a wry grin as she stepped out of the elevator, she much preferred to be the one at the helm dishing out Clark’s punishment.
Speaking of which, she hoped he’d found her little present to him in his locker. It was a shame she couldn’t be there to witness it on this occasion, but hey; it was early days yet.
***
“You haven’t answered, Clark,” Pete said. “Did you have sex with Chloe?”
Clark gulped audibly. “That’s a weird question,” he hedged. “Why would you ask me something like that?”
“So you did, then,” Pete said quietly.
“I didn’t say that, Pete!”
“You didn’t deny it either,” he answered coolly. “Which you would have done in a heartbeat if you’d had nothing to hide.”
With a sick feeling of dread, Clark realised that Pete was right. He lowered his gaze and stared at the ground, unable to look his friend in the face.
“When?” Pete asked bluntly.
“Metropolis,” Clark whispered.
Pete nodded. “I thought so. Chloe hasn’t been the same ever since you got back.”
Clark sighed miserably. “I really messed up, Pete,” he said. “I don’t know how I can fix this.”
“At least now I know why she’s raking you over the coals with the kryptonite,” Pete scoffed. “You slept with her, and then ignored her the second Lana swans back into the picture. Not cool, man.”
Clark blinked. “What? No, I…we…it wasn’t-”
“Why, Clark?” Pete asked, his voice hardening. “Why would you do something like that to Chloe, huh? She’s your friend! And you slept with her to make Lana jealous? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“That’s not how it was,” he protested.
“Then how was it?” Pete raged. “Because it sure looks that way to me! You’re barely on speaking terms with Chloe, so much so that she’s just about ready to do murder your alien ass. Not to mention how you’re falling all over yourself to please Lana, but hey, that’s nothing new!”
“Pete, you’ve got it all wrong,” he insisted, but to no avail.
“You know what it is, Clark?” he blazed. “You’re selfish. You knew Chloe had feelings for you, and you used that, used her, to get to Lana.” He took a step closer and pointed a shaky finger in Clark’s face. “And you knew that I liked Chloe. I didn’t ask her out because of her feelings for you, but I thought that maybe one day, she and I might have a chance. And then you go and do something like this? How could you, Clark? To Chloe, to me??”
Clark didn’t answer. Not that Pete was waiting for one.
“You think you’re the only one with problems?” he yelled. “I’ve been dealing with issues of my own, Clark. My parents have split up; they’re getting divorced!”
“What?” gasped Clark in shock.
“That’s right. My family is crumbling around me, but I didn’t say anything because I’ve been so worried about you and Chloe. And you didn’t even notice, did you?”
“Pete, I’m so sorry,” Clark said with genuine remorse. “I…I don’t know what to say…”
“Forget it,” was the terse reply. “I can’t be around you right now, man, I just…ugh.”
Clark buried his head in his hands and sighed miserably as Pete walked out of the boy’s locker room and slammed the door, making the lockers rattle. Cautiously he opened his eyes and then closed them, wishing for all the world that the ground would just open and swallow him whole - or at least, offer him some answers and a way out of the mess that was currently called his life.
He’d lost Chloe. He was now on the outs with Pete following the erroneous conclusions the other man had drawn, though he supposed he should be thankful Pete didn’t know exactly what had happened. But hearing about the dramatic shake-up in Pete’s family unit was devastating, especially as he hadn’t been there for his friend when he should have been.
Clark stood wearily and trudged towards the exit. Things were bad for the three of them; horrifically so. But hopefully that meant that the worst was over, and the only way to go was up.
A spark of steely determination settled within him and he drew strength from it, determined to be strong. He had to fix this, all of it, for all of them - no matter what it cost him.
***
Chapter 18…