Smallville Big Bang 2012
So ... Here it is. My entry for Smallville Bigbang!
Title: Human Nature
Author: mrs_roy
Rating: NC17
Genre: Het, Romance, Angst.
Pairing/Characters: Chlark. Chloe, Clark, Lois, Lex, Martha, Jonathan.
Summary - The summer before going to college, Clark loses his powers, rendering him human. After Clark becomes ill, Chloe vows to get to the bottom of his mysterious illness. But not all is as it seems, and Chloe finds herself needing a saviour just as much as Clark does. (This is my take on S5E1/2 - Arrival and Mortal)
AN: Huge thanks tobkwurm1and babydee1for their love and support. Thanks also to ctbn60for her lovely artwork. (Awesome header bybkwurm1)
Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1.
Chloe Sullivan curled her toes into the crude grains of pebbly sand that littered the shore of Crater Lake and then smoothed the shabby, dog-eared page of her paperback for the umpteenth time. The surface was worn from overuse, nervous fingers having turned down the corners for the better portion of the day. She had been distracted, her brow furrowed heavily and her mind filled with loathsome thoughts of Lois and Clark.
“Check out Smallville, the kid has really filled out this summer.”
Lois elbowed Chloe and lifted her finger to point towards the water before she repeated her statement, pausing between words for clarity.
“I said check out Smallville, he’s really filled out over the summer. How did I miss that?”
Chloe pushed herself up into a sitting position and crossed her legs as she gave thought to the question, contemplating the answer. She watched Lois intently, her gaze turned to the lakefront, ripples lapping at the bank where Clark had emerged, heavy legs slicing through the shallows, the water sluiced in rivulets, streaking his bare skin with the reflection of the sun.
Chloe swallowed thickly and turned her head back to the black and white print she had previously perused sporadically. She had to get used to the fact that Lois had the looks, the kind of untouched beauty that captures a man’s attention. Lois also had the personality, the kind that shone through her looks. What Chloe had was a highly complex integrative process, lacking and flawed, essentially individual, fingering over her soul.
Lois pushed her dark glasses to the tip of her nose and folded her arms across her chest as she watched Clark make his way towards them. The earth beneath his feet gave way to the force of his weight, compacting each tiny particle into the perfectly sculpted impressions that Clark would leave behind, a trail of perfect footprints.
“Oh yeah,” Lois called over her shoulder. “I’m telling you Chloe, Clark is hot.”
Chloe shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the comment.
“Come on, Cuz. Even you can appreciate that body,” Lois continued as Clark drew near. His fingers curled as he smiled and waved to Lois.
Chloe cringed, from the corner of her eye she had noticed the interaction and it stung, of course Lois would be the one that he’d notice, and Lois would be the one to get the attention that she had so long craved. Lois and Clark, that was a sure bet.
“Hey, whatcha readin’, Chlo?” Clark asked as he threw his weight down on the towel stretched out next to Chloe. He propped his head in his hands and turned to look at the cover of the paperback novel.
“Murder, Madness and Love. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a romantic, Chloe. Besides,” he continued, unaware of the frown that now marred Chloe’s features, “it’s the end of school and we’re off to college soon, time to live it up a little, you know … one last fling before we make our way out into the real world.”
“Cute,” Chloe drawled, but refused to look at him lest she make her feelings completely obvious.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a fling kinda guy, Smallville,” Lois echoed his previous sentiment and couldn’t stop herself from laughing at the ridiculousness of his statement. She knew that Clark Kent was anything but that kind of guy, but if Chloe wasn’t interested, if she was over Clark like she’d insisted she was, then maybe Lois would make herself available.
Clark turned over onto his back and crossed his arms behind his head; the sun was high in the sky, the trees casting a shadow over the rugged plains of his chiseled body. Chloe bit her bottom lip and averted her gaze, catching the look on her cousin’s face, the look that made her intentions clear. Chloe knew that what Lois wanted, Lois got. She sighed; life was bound to get better at some stage.
“It’s just that Chloe is going to Met U,” Clark mused to himself, “And I’m still not sure where I really want to be.”
Clark’s statement caught Chloe’s attention and she fumbled awkwardly as her book tumbled from the safety of her hands. Fear clawed at her thread-bare heart and she swallowed thickly. If she couldn’t convince him to leave Smallville, he was bound to become closer to Lois.
“What about your scholarship? You can’t just throw that away, Clark.”
Lois chipped away at the cherry lacquer that covered her nails while she watched the two debate the finer points of tertiary education. Between them, Clark and Chloe threw explanation after explanation with all the precision of practice, blow by blow, a little tough talk in the midst of the afternoon sun.
“What’s the big deal?” Lois asked Chloe, seemingly unaffected by the scowl that appeared on Chloe’s face. “He’ll sort it out and I’m sure you’ll be the first person he’ll tell. Besides, look at me, I dropped out of College and I’m totally fine.”
“You work at the Talon,” Chloe intoned, the sarcasm thick, intellect on the offensive.
“It pays the bills,” Lois shot back at her cousin with a simpering smile and a notch in her voice, a challenge, it was clear.
“Chloe,” Clark placed his broad hand on her shoulder and rubbed the arch at the nape of her neck until she shuddered. “Mom and Dad need me at home, where I can help, you know,” He eyed her carefully, hoping to convey the message, “I can really … help them. At home.”
“We talked about this, Clark,” Chloe continued to argue the point, unsatisfied with his compromise, her stubborn pride willing to fight the last. “I thought we agreed that we would go to Metropolis together.”
“We did, Chloe. But I had to make a decision and my parents need the help.”
He hated to disappoint her; he knew that she held his faith close to her heart. It hadn’t been an easy decision; he’d paced the loft many a sleepless night, his mind a virtual freeze-frame of emotions, a flurry of images that had brokered the inevitable. His parents had barely managed to keep the roof over his head when he was a kid, he owed them this.
“I need you too,” Chloe whispered as she stood to gather her belongings and headed off in the direction of the truck.
“How mad do you think she is?” he asked Lois sincerely.
Lois shrugged. “She looks pretty pissed to me, but you know Chloe. She’ll come to her senses in a few hours and the two of you will be best friends again.”
“The ride home is not really going to be pleasant, is it?” Clark feigned ignorance, his eyes pleading with Lois to help him mend the gaping chasm left between himself and Chloe.
“That’s okay,” Lois smiled up at Clark. “I’m still here, you can talk to me.”
Clark shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He’d wanted this all along, the chance to be human, with real human emotions and feelings, but the way his heart felt, he was being pulled in every which-way direction and he wasn’t entirely convinced that this was really what he wanted. There was little he could do, if he was sure of only one thing, he was sure that he knew Chloe Sullivan better than anybody else.
Chloe had left the front passenger seat vacant, supposedly for Lois, and she sat sprawled across the back seat, her head propped on her hand, her elbow locked taut against the small ledge that intersected the flimsy glass window, her view of the world for the next three quarters of the hour.
“You want the front seat?” Clark offered Lois the chance to ride shotgun.
“Sure,” Lois beamed, and in the backseat, Chloe died a little more inside.
The tension inside the cab was thick; Chloe was determined to maintain her silence, in turn inducing silence in the others and the quiet contemplation between the three had slowly simmered to melting point.
Lois threw up her hands and called Chloe on her suspicious behavior.
“Just give it up, Chloe. Stop sulking so that Clark will stop sulking. It’s not like it’s the end of the world, or you’ll never see him again.”
Lois was right, of course she was, Lois was always right.
“It’s none of your business,” Chloe spoke calmly, her voice disguising the conflict that she felt inside. Clark had been her best friend for as long as she could remember, it had been her job to stand by his side through the years, through the Lana years that made her bitter and twisted, like a jealous, conceited woman willing to hurt, willing to take, through the revelation of his heritage, his true paternity. Chloe had seen him through it all. To lose to Lois at this point, was beyond mere comprehension. She wanted Clark to be happy … but with Lois?
“She’s a sore loser,” Lois told Clark, and he chuckled. His eyes on the road, he concentrated on navigating them home safely.
“Thanks for the ride,” Lois called as she closed the door behind her and turned to look through the window pane. “Hope your passenger cheers up soon.” She nodded to where Chloe was bundled in the back seat.
Clark rolled his eyes and lifted one hand from the steering wheel to wave goodbye. He watched as Lois ascended the stairs and waited before he heard the click of the apartment door lock. Turning the key in the ignition, Clark threw the truck into gear. It was time to take his precious cargo back to the Kent Farm. He and Chloe had some talking to do.
“Mom and Dad will be out tonight,” Clark spoke as he turned down the long stretch of road that ran adjacent to the small district cemetery, just off the fold of Hickory Lane. “Something about a fundraiser for the High School, I wasn’t really taking much notice.”
The sun was preparing to take leave, the shades of dusk that littered the sky attested to the coming night just beyond the horizon.
“I’m sure Mom left pie,” Clark hastened to offer.
Chloe sighed quietly, she knew that Clark wasn’t about to let up any time soon.
“I’d really just like to have a shower and crawl into bed with the rest of my story, Clark. It’s been a long day. We can talk in the morning.”
“Okay, Chlo.” Her words hurt more than he’d expected. She had always been the one person he could confide in. “I’ll play the fool,” he mumbled inaudibly.
They rolled to a stop in front of the old farm house that Chloe had so often called home. She gathered her towel and toed on her flip-flops and Clark watched as her feet fell into rhythm across the flaky earth. He sought the crunch and grind of gravel beneath her soles as a comfort, if he could hear her footsteps; he knew that she was safe. Clark shook his head and scratched his ear as he strained to listen; usually it was easy to pick up the sounds that her scuffs made. Maybe he just had swimmers ear, not that he’d ever had trouble before.
Chloe climbed the heavy stairs, her hand trailing the hand crafted balustrade as she fought the urge to turn around and look at Clark where he stood at the bottom of the staircase. She forced herself to maintain her composure, once she was in the shower and the steam ensconced her in a cushion of silence, she could let the tears fall.
She tugged at her tank, the thin sheath of fabric falling from her fingers. She lowered her shorts and folded them over the chair in the corner of the room. With nimble fingers, she released the strings that held her bikini top together and allowed the offending garment to glide to the cold tiles beneath her feet. Her thumbs hooked into her bikini bottoms, they were the last to go. Chloe stepped towards the shower nook and her body trembled, her skin prickled as though she was being watched.
In his room next door, Clark could hear the pipes give way to the flow of tempered water in the bathroom. He rubbed his face as he asked God to forgive him, but this was not an act that he could forego. He’d seen Chloe naked before, inevitably, her luscious skin had given way to his first erection. When his heat vision had flared, and Chloe had reasoned that it must have been because of Lana, he hadn’t had to heart to correct her. Clark turned to the wall on his right and squinted, his brow furrowed in concentration, but nothing happened. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and focused his vision on the wall between himself and Chloe. Nothing. Clark blinked, his hand balled into a fist by his side and his knuckles turned white with the force of his strength. He tried not to panic. He lifted his hand to the front of his face and focused his vision, trying to make out the tiny bones that pieced his skeleton together. Nothing. He cocked his head to the side and tried to focus on his mother’s heartbeat. Nothing. No X-ray vision, no super hearing. He stumbled to the bedroom door and leaned against the doorframe. He gripped the door and wrenched his arm backwards. The hinges groaned but the door did not shift.
“Chloe,” he shouted, as he buckled to his knees in the doorway.
“Clark?” she called, the tone in his voice was unusual and intensely emotional.
“Chloe,’ He cried desperately. “Chloe, you have to help me.”
Chloe pulled Clark’s old sweats up over her hips and folded the waist over twice before she plucked her shirt from the floor and rounded the corner to Clark’s room. He was hunched over in the doorway; his shoulders slumped and his head nestled against the pale flakes of generic paint that curled up into tiny wisps all over the door, his fingers clawing at the threads of carpet still intact.
“Clark? What’s going on? What’s the matter?”
“I can’t see,” he said, his head turning to face her. “I can’t see and I can’t hear. I’ve lost my super strength; I think … I think I’ve lost my super powers, Chloe. If I’ve lost all of my powers, does that make me human?”
“I … I don’t know.” She had to be honest; she would not lie to Clark. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I promise we’ll find out.” She took his hand and held it against her cheek so that he could feel the warmth of her skin, it was tangible. It was real.
“I promise, Clark. We will fix this.”
Chloe eased Clark away from the door and took his arm to help him stand. His balance was off. Like a man caught on a ledge, the spell of inertia and frustration made his movements impossible, groggy. He was conflicted, between the fear of falling and the desire to fall; he had to take small steps, graduated steps, measured precisely. He leaned heavily upon Chloe, muttering an apology every time he stumbled, a thin film of sweat clung to his brow and his face held the kind of pained expression that tore at Chloe’s heart with a grimace.
Unceremoniously, Clark slumped against the bed, a mass of limbs and dead weight; he conformed to his bodies’ revolt. Chloe nestled herself between his legs and leaned over the bulk of his frame as she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and gasped.
“Clark, you’re burning up, that’s not normal.”
“Not normal for me … you mean.” He drew breath slowly, deeply, his yes fixed on hers.
Chloe plucked the hem of his t-shirt with the tips of her fingers and motioned for Clark to raise his arms as best he could while she maneuvered the damp cloth up over his trembling torso. His body shook and he scrunched his eyes closed tightly against the artificial light that radiated from the bulb suspended above his face.
“Stay here, don’t move,” she urged him as she disappeared from the room.
He’d have laughed if his body had given him half a chance to muster the energy, so he grunted his approval and tried to concentrate on his breathing. The simple action was daunting. His lungs refused to inflate as he inhaled and screamed bloody murder when the grievous spasm ripped through his body as he exhaled. He swallowed the misery and digested the ache, not willing to compromise Chloe’s belief in him, scared to even so much as consider the possibility of eternity without her.
Chloe returned with a tepid face cloth and drew the scratchy cotton washer back and forth across his chest with a shaky hand. She pushed the dark hair from his face, folded the cloth in two and draped it strategically along the length of his forehead.
The cool, damp cloth helped to ease the fever, little by little, and the unfaltering affection soothed his weary mind, put his senses back into order and quashed the sense of foreboding in his veins. Clark drifted into peaceful sleep and Chloe sat slumped against the headboard keeping vigil until the very minute that he would open his eyes again. She smoothed her thumb over his flushed skin and sighed.
“We’ll sort this out, Clark. I know we will. We have to. There are no buts about it.”
Chapter 2
Title: Human Nature
Author: mrs_roy
Rating: NC17
Genre: Het, Romance, Angst.
Pairing/Characters: Chlark. Chloe, Clark, Lois, Lex, Martha, Jonathan.
Summary - The summer before going to college, Clark loses his powers, rendering him human. After Clark becomes ill, Chloe vows to get to the bottom of his mysterious illness. But not all is as it seems, and Chloe finds herself needing a saviour just as much as Clark does. (This is my take on S5E1/2 - Arrival and Mortal)
AN: Huge thanks tobkwurm1and babydee1for their love and support. Thanks also to ctbn60for her lovely artwork. (Awesome header bybkwurm1)
Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1.
Chloe Sullivan curled her toes into the crude grains of pebbly sand that littered the shore of Crater Lake and then smoothed the shabby, dog-eared page of her paperback for the umpteenth time. The surface was worn from overuse, nervous fingers having turned down the corners for the better portion of the day. She had been distracted, her brow furrowed heavily and her mind filled with loathsome thoughts of Lois and Clark.
“Check out Smallville, the kid has really filled out this summer.”
Lois elbowed Chloe and lifted her finger to point towards the water before she repeated her statement, pausing between words for clarity.
“I said check out Smallville, he’s really filled out over the summer. How did I miss that?”
Chloe pushed herself up into a sitting position and crossed her legs as she gave thought to the question, contemplating the answer. She watched Lois intently, her gaze turned to the lakefront, ripples lapping at the bank where Clark had emerged, heavy legs slicing through the shallows, the water sluiced in rivulets, streaking his bare skin with the reflection of the sun.
Chloe swallowed thickly and turned her head back to the black and white print she had previously perused sporadically. She had to get used to the fact that Lois had the looks, the kind of untouched beauty that captures a man’s attention. Lois also had the personality, the kind that shone through her looks. What Chloe had was a highly complex integrative process, lacking and flawed, essentially individual, fingering over her soul.
Lois pushed her dark glasses to the tip of her nose and folded her arms across her chest as she watched Clark make his way towards them. The earth beneath his feet gave way to the force of his weight, compacting each tiny particle into the perfectly sculpted impressions that Clark would leave behind, a trail of perfect footprints.
“Oh yeah,” Lois called over her shoulder. “I’m telling you Chloe, Clark is hot.”
Chloe shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the comment.
“Come on, Cuz. Even you can appreciate that body,” Lois continued as Clark drew near. His fingers curled as he smiled and waved to Lois.
Chloe cringed, from the corner of her eye she had noticed the interaction and it stung, of course Lois would be the one that he’d notice, and Lois would be the one to get the attention that she had so long craved. Lois and Clark, that was a sure bet.
“Hey, whatcha readin’, Chlo?” Clark asked as he threw his weight down on the towel stretched out next to Chloe. He propped his head in his hands and turned to look at the cover of the paperback novel.
“Murder, Madness and Love. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a romantic, Chloe. Besides,” he continued, unaware of the frown that now marred Chloe’s features, “it’s the end of school and we’re off to college soon, time to live it up a little, you know … one last fling before we make our way out into the real world.”
“Cute,” Chloe drawled, but refused to look at him lest she make her feelings completely obvious.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a fling kinda guy, Smallville,” Lois echoed his previous sentiment and couldn’t stop herself from laughing at the ridiculousness of his statement. She knew that Clark Kent was anything but that kind of guy, but if Chloe wasn’t interested, if she was over Clark like she’d insisted she was, then maybe Lois would make herself available.
Clark turned over onto his back and crossed his arms behind his head; the sun was high in the sky, the trees casting a shadow over the rugged plains of his chiseled body. Chloe bit her bottom lip and averted her gaze, catching the look on her cousin’s face, the look that made her intentions clear. Chloe knew that what Lois wanted, Lois got. She sighed; life was bound to get better at some stage.
“It’s just that Chloe is going to Met U,” Clark mused to himself, “And I’m still not sure where I really want to be.”
Clark’s statement caught Chloe’s attention and she fumbled awkwardly as her book tumbled from the safety of her hands. Fear clawed at her thread-bare heart and she swallowed thickly. If she couldn’t convince him to leave Smallville, he was bound to become closer to Lois.
“What about your scholarship? You can’t just throw that away, Clark.”
Lois chipped away at the cherry lacquer that covered her nails while she watched the two debate the finer points of tertiary education. Between them, Clark and Chloe threw explanation after explanation with all the precision of practice, blow by blow, a little tough talk in the midst of the afternoon sun.
“What’s the big deal?” Lois asked Chloe, seemingly unaffected by the scowl that appeared on Chloe’s face. “He’ll sort it out and I’m sure you’ll be the first person he’ll tell. Besides, look at me, I dropped out of College and I’m totally fine.”
“You work at the Talon,” Chloe intoned, the sarcasm thick, intellect on the offensive.
“It pays the bills,” Lois shot back at her cousin with a simpering smile and a notch in her voice, a challenge, it was clear.
“Chloe,” Clark placed his broad hand on her shoulder and rubbed the arch at the nape of her neck until she shuddered. “Mom and Dad need me at home, where I can help, you know,” He eyed her carefully, hoping to convey the message, “I can really … help them. At home.”
“We talked about this, Clark,” Chloe continued to argue the point, unsatisfied with his compromise, her stubborn pride willing to fight the last. “I thought we agreed that we would go to Metropolis together.”
“We did, Chloe. But I had to make a decision and my parents need the help.”
He hated to disappoint her; he knew that she held his faith close to her heart. It hadn’t been an easy decision; he’d paced the loft many a sleepless night, his mind a virtual freeze-frame of emotions, a flurry of images that had brokered the inevitable. His parents had barely managed to keep the roof over his head when he was a kid, he owed them this.
“I need you too,” Chloe whispered as she stood to gather her belongings and headed off in the direction of the truck.
“How mad do you think she is?” he asked Lois sincerely.
Lois shrugged. “She looks pretty pissed to me, but you know Chloe. She’ll come to her senses in a few hours and the two of you will be best friends again.”
“The ride home is not really going to be pleasant, is it?” Clark feigned ignorance, his eyes pleading with Lois to help him mend the gaping chasm left between himself and Chloe.
“That’s okay,” Lois smiled up at Clark. “I’m still here, you can talk to me.”
Clark shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He’d wanted this all along, the chance to be human, with real human emotions and feelings, but the way his heart felt, he was being pulled in every which-way direction and he wasn’t entirely convinced that this was really what he wanted. There was little he could do, if he was sure of only one thing, he was sure that he knew Chloe Sullivan better than anybody else.
Chloe had left the front passenger seat vacant, supposedly for Lois, and she sat sprawled across the back seat, her head propped on her hand, her elbow locked taut against the small ledge that intersected the flimsy glass window, her view of the world for the next three quarters of the hour.
“You want the front seat?” Clark offered Lois the chance to ride shotgun.
“Sure,” Lois beamed, and in the backseat, Chloe died a little more inside.
The tension inside the cab was thick; Chloe was determined to maintain her silence, in turn inducing silence in the others and the quiet contemplation between the three had slowly simmered to melting point.
Lois threw up her hands and called Chloe on her suspicious behavior.
“Just give it up, Chloe. Stop sulking so that Clark will stop sulking. It’s not like it’s the end of the world, or you’ll never see him again.”
Lois was right, of course she was, Lois was always right.
“It’s none of your business,” Chloe spoke calmly, her voice disguising the conflict that she felt inside. Clark had been her best friend for as long as she could remember, it had been her job to stand by his side through the years, through the Lana years that made her bitter and twisted, like a jealous, conceited woman willing to hurt, willing to take, through the revelation of his heritage, his true paternity. Chloe had seen him through it all. To lose to Lois at this point, was beyond mere comprehension. She wanted Clark to be happy … but with Lois?
“She’s a sore loser,” Lois told Clark, and he chuckled. His eyes on the road, he concentrated on navigating them home safely.
“Thanks for the ride,” Lois called as she closed the door behind her and turned to look through the window pane. “Hope your passenger cheers up soon.” She nodded to where Chloe was bundled in the back seat.
Clark rolled his eyes and lifted one hand from the steering wheel to wave goodbye. He watched as Lois ascended the stairs and waited before he heard the click of the apartment door lock. Turning the key in the ignition, Clark threw the truck into gear. It was time to take his precious cargo back to the Kent Farm. He and Chloe had some talking to do.
“Mom and Dad will be out tonight,” Clark spoke as he turned down the long stretch of road that ran adjacent to the small district cemetery, just off the fold of Hickory Lane. “Something about a fundraiser for the High School, I wasn’t really taking much notice.”
The sun was preparing to take leave, the shades of dusk that littered the sky attested to the coming night just beyond the horizon.
“I’m sure Mom left pie,” Clark hastened to offer.
Chloe sighed quietly, she knew that Clark wasn’t about to let up any time soon.
“I’d really just like to have a shower and crawl into bed with the rest of my story, Clark. It’s been a long day. We can talk in the morning.”
“Okay, Chlo.” Her words hurt more than he’d expected. She had always been the one person he could confide in. “I’ll play the fool,” he mumbled inaudibly.
They rolled to a stop in front of the old farm house that Chloe had so often called home. She gathered her towel and toed on her flip-flops and Clark watched as her feet fell into rhythm across the flaky earth. He sought the crunch and grind of gravel beneath her soles as a comfort, if he could hear her footsteps; he knew that she was safe. Clark shook his head and scratched his ear as he strained to listen; usually it was easy to pick up the sounds that her scuffs made. Maybe he just had swimmers ear, not that he’d ever had trouble before.
Chloe climbed the heavy stairs, her hand trailing the hand crafted balustrade as she fought the urge to turn around and look at Clark where he stood at the bottom of the staircase. She forced herself to maintain her composure, once she was in the shower and the steam ensconced her in a cushion of silence, she could let the tears fall.
She tugged at her tank, the thin sheath of fabric falling from her fingers. She lowered her shorts and folded them over the chair in the corner of the room. With nimble fingers, she released the strings that held her bikini top together and allowed the offending garment to glide to the cold tiles beneath her feet. Her thumbs hooked into her bikini bottoms, they were the last to go. Chloe stepped towards the shower nook and her body trembled, her skin prickled as though she was being watched.
In his room next door, Clark could hear the pipes give way to the flow of tempered water in the bathroom. He rubbed his face as he asked God to forgive him, but this was not an act that he could forego. He’d seen Chloe naked before, inevitably, her luscious skin had given way to his first erection. When his heat vision had flared, and Chloe had reasoned that it must have been because of Lana, he hadn’t had to heart to correct her. Clark turned to the wall on his right and squinted, his brow furrowed in concentration, but nothing happened. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and focused his vision on the wall between himself and Chloe. Nothing. Clark blinked, his hand balled into a fist by his side and his knuckles turned white with the force of his strength. He tried not to panic. He lifted his hand to the front of his face and focused his vision, trying to make out the tiny bones that pieced his skeleton together. Nothing. He cocked his head to the side and tried to focus on his mother’s heartbeat. Nothing. No X-ray vision, no super hearing. He stumbled to the bedroom door and leaned against the doorframe. He gripped the door and wrenched his arm backwards. The hinges groaned but the door did not shift.
“Chloe,” he shouted, as he buckled to his knees in the doorway.
“Clark?” she called, the tone in his voice was unusual and intensely emotional.
“Chloe,’ He cried desperately. “Chloe, you have to help me.”
Chloe pulled Clark’s old sweats up over her hips and folded the waist over twice before she plucked her shirt from the floor and rounded the corner to Clark’s room. He was hunched over in the doorway; his shoulders slumped and his head nestled against the pale flakes of generic paint that curled up into tiny wisps all over the door, his fingers clawing at the threads of carpet still intact.
“Clark? What’s going on? What’s the matter?”
“I can’t see,” he said, his head turning to face her. “I can’t see and I can’t hear. I’ve lost my super strength; I think … I think I’ve lost my super powers, Chloe. If I’ve lost all of my powers, does that make me human?”
“I … I don’t know.” She had to be honest; she would not lie to Clark. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I promise we’ll find out.” She took his hand and held it against her cheek so that he could feel the warmth of her skin, it was tangible. It was real.
“I promise, Clark. We will fix this.”
Chloe eased Clark away from the door and took his arm to help him stand. His balance was off. Like a man caught on a ledge, the spell of inertia and frustration made his movements impossible, groggy. He was conflicted, between the fear of falling and the desire to fall; he had to take small steps, graduated steps, measured precisely. He leaned heavily upon Chloe, muttering an apology every time he stumbled, a thin film of sweat clung to his brow and his face held the kind of pained expression that tore at Chloe’s heart with a grimace.
Unceremoniously, Clark slumped against the bed, a mass of limbs and dead weight; he conformed to his bodies’ revolt. Chloe nestled herself between his legs and leaned over the bulk of his frame as she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and gasped.
“Clark, you’re burning up, that’s not normal.”
“Not normal for me … you mean.” He drew breath slowly, deeply, his yes fixed on hers.
Chloe plucked the hem of his t-shirt with the tips of her fingers and motioned for Clark to raise his arms as best he could while she maneuvered the damp cloth up over his trembling torso. His body shook and he scrunched his eyes closed tightly against the artificial light that radiated from the bulb suspended above his face.
“Stay here, don’t move,” she urged him as she disappeared from the room.
He’d have laughed if his body had given him half a chance to muster the energy, so he grunted his approval and tried to concentrate on his breathing. The simple action was daunting. His lungs refused to inflate as he inhaled and screamed bloody murder when the grievous spasm ripped through his body as he exhaled. He swallowed the misery and digested the ache, not willing to compromise Chloe’s belief in him, scared to even so much as consider the possibility of eternity without her.
Chloe returned with a tepid face cloth and drew the scratchy cotton washer back and forth across his chest with a shaky hand. She pushed the dark hair from his face, folded the cloth in two and draped it strategically along the length of his forehead.
The cool, damp cloth helped to ease the fever, little by little, and the unfaltering affection soothed his weary mind, put his senses back into order and quashed the sense of foreboding in his veins. Clark drifted into peaceful sleep and Chloe sat slumped against the headboard keeping vigil until the very minute that he would open his eyes again. She smoothed her thumb over his flushed skin and sighed.
“We’ll sort this out, Clark. I know we will. We have to. There are no buts about it.”
Chapter 2