For Clark [Warning: Graphic torture ensues]

[downsidedarling]

Normally, Eight-Hour's front door doesn't open into a cave.

A lot of things, however, are abnormal about this situation.

"...Ooops," she says as it shuts behind them with a depressing sort of finality. "Um, shit."

Comments

[hero_farmboy]

"It was so surreal, Clark," Chloe paces in the loft, recounting the story for him once more. He doesn't seem perturbed at hearing this one a few times. "She knew my name and God, I can still hear her screaming." She shivers at that and Clark finally moves from his place near the window to pull her in for a quick hug.

"She probably remembers you from the night you and Jimmy found her on the roof," he assures her, offering a small smile. "And it doesn't exactly sound like she's all there, either."

"She needs help, Clark. Before the police get to her and decide she should spend the rest of her life in Belle Reve. Crazy or not, no one deserves that."

Clark sighs. "I'll go back out, if that'll make you feel better." She nods against his chest and he gives her one more squeeze before sending her back home. Lois can handle the ice cream and chick flick portion of cheering Chloe up far better than he can.

True to his word, Clark returns to Metropolis that night, this time starting on the opposite end of town from where the diner is. He knows if he were in this woman's shoes (if she has any) he'd be as far away as possible from the scene of the encounter by now.

[downsidedarling]

He's right (and she doesn't). Anna is pacing the floor of the abandoned warehouse she slept in that first night, scratching her arms absently (there's blood splattered in patches across the concrete floor; people will think there's been a murder here, or several), wondering why she doesn't just get the fuck out of this town already. Her hair hangs from her head in matted clumps; she pushes it absently out of her eyes, contemplating for a moment the prospect of bleeding herself out completely in the hopes that a good torch will restore it to order.

At a slight noise, she bolts out the door like a frightened squirrel. So intent is Anna on her mad dash that she doesn't even notice who she passes on the way.

It's highly probable that he notices her, however. The effects of starvation and poor hygiene can do little to disguise the face of Anna Reeve from the eyes of Clark Kent.

[hero_farmboy]

It's hard for Clark not to notice. Once he's certain there's someone on the run from the building, he zeroes in their heartbeat, the easiest way for him to track someone. What he isn't expecting is for it to be a pattern he already knows.

He positions himself a few steps ahead of her, so she'll have no choice but to run into him and catches her easily by the arm, strong enough that she won't be able to get free, but gentle enough not to hurt her.

"Anna?"

[downsidedarling]

The look she gives him is completely blank. Shock, base rodential fear, and total confusion combine to a total of nothingness.

Her first instinct is to bolt again, more thoroughly this time, and the fire's almost on her when she realizes how stupid that would be and opts instead to collapse, crying, into his arms.

[hero_farmboy]

Her physical condition doesn't appear to bother him immediately, as Clark just wraps his arms around her and lets her cry as long as she needs to. It also gives him a little bit of time to try and sort through everything in his mind; that she's obviously been here the entire time she left his house, living on the streets and the vigilante, attacking men who tried to... She'll get an extra squeeze when that particular realization hits him.

Eventually, he takes her by the shoulders and draws her away a little and gives her a good look over.

"We need to get you cleaned up and fed and... whatever else, okay?"

[downsidedarling]

"Sure," she whispers hoarsely in a dull, dead voice like the glint of light from muddied ditchwater, blinking back tears. Her face still bears that blank expression, but it's starting to clear into something else, a bizarre confluence of wonderment, depression, and hope. He doesn't seem to blame her.

[hero_farmboy]

Clark hesitates for a minute, trying to think of the best place to take her. The farm probably isn't he greatest option, because even though his mother would never turn Anna out in this condition, it would only put further strain on things. The Talon apartment... Clark isn't sure he's ready to announce to his friends that the girl he had that valiant attempt with in the romantic department is the homeless vigilante Chloe and Jimmy have been tracking all this time. He could call Lionel but that's a road he really doesn't want to go down unless he absolutely has to.

And then he realizes he has the perfect solution and smiles down at her, brushing a bit of dirt off her cheek. "A friend of mine has an condo downtown. He said I could use it whenever I needed to and I think this counts. You ready for a run?"

[downsidedarling]

"Always," she murmurs with the ghost of a smile, leaning her head on his shoulder and trying to ignore the flood of memories the association brings.

[hero_farmboy]

He picks her up effortlessly and dashes off (just like Kal did), speeding up and around the streets of Metropolis, which pass by like one big blur of light. When he stops, they're in a spacious and sparsely furnished condo, with one wall seemingly decorated like a giant clock.

"The bathroom's upstairs," he tells her, setting her down lightly on her feet. "You go soak in the tub and I'll run out to get us some food. Sound good?" The unspoken question of you'll be here when I get back, right? is left hanging.

[downsidedarling]

"Yes."

She seems to have restricted herself to single-word replies, but she's headed bathroomwards and isn't bolting out the door, so that's promising enough.

The bath is a delight. It becomes even more of a delight when she spots a fluffy grey bathrobe hanging on the door and realizes she won't have to climb back into the same set of clothes she's been wearing for the past month.

[hero_farmboy]

That's good enough for Clark.

When Anna does descend the stairs in her fluffy grey bathrobe, he will be waiting for her with burgers and fries and coffee. And a salad.

"I know it's probably not the best thing to eat but there aren't a lot of options around here." This is only true if one takes his budget into account. "We'll make up for it in the morning when I can go grocery shopping and cook you a proper breakfast."

[downsidedarling]

In the interim her face has reverted to its default state of 'blank and slightly vacant'.

"It's good--" issues forth from her in a broken monotone. "--thanks."

Food is inspected and consumed. Halfway through a burger she stops, digging in the pocket of the bathrobe for a somewhat grimy fifty-dollar bill.

"Yours," she says, holding it out, her voice beginning to take on a semblance of intonation. "That you lent me-- when we met. For clothes."

The manner in which her hand is outstretched denies wholeheartedly the possibility of a refusal.

[hero_farmboy]

When we met? Clark frowns and just sort of stares at the money for a minute before shaking his head.

"I didn't lend it to you. You needed clothes and that was that. You don't need to repay me for anything."

[downsidedarling]

Blankness. Hand. Bill.

Yeah, she's not letting this one go until he takes it from her.

(Though she briefly wonders if she should've washed it or something first. It spent a month in the rear pocket of a homeless woman's jeans; this is not a recipe for sterility.)

[hero_farmboy]

Clark is immune to anything and everything this bill could possibly be carrying. He'll placate her by taking it, but he fully intends to use it buying those groceries in the morning, so it'll just end up going back toward her anyway. But he'll keep that plan to himself.

"Oh, I got you this as well." He hands over a generic white plastic bag containing a few pairs of women's underwear, socks, a pair of sweat pants and a couple of white cotton t-shirts, all obviously purchased from a discount store. No bra, sorry Anna. There are lines even Clark can't force himself to cross.

[downsidedarling]

"Thanks," she says, dully. It seems the speech about money has exhausted her capacity for polysyllaby for the moment.

When the food's done, she opens her mouth abruptly as though about to speak, then closes it and stares, blank as ever, at the empty air in front of her.

(She wants to start talking - wants to remember the vivacity of her existence Downside, or the sweet unknowns of her brief vacation with Clark, and act like a human being again. But she doesn't have the faintest idea where to begin.)