Fic: Manxome Mimsy Mome (SMLJ series) Clark, Chloe[rated teen]

[xenokattz]

Manxome Mimsy Mome
Fandom: Smallville
Characters: Clark Kent, Chloe Sullivan
Rating: Teen (VERY strong language)
Summary: Post Season 9. Of course her water would break in the middle of the Cambodian jungle while Clark was still recovering from blue kryptonite exposure and her tech was at the bottom of a crocodile-laden river.
Author Notes: Part of Stars are Made of Lemon Juice series which isn't written in chronological order & is driving me insane.

=^o.O^=
Of course her water would break in the middle of the Cambodian jungle while Clark was still recovering from blue kryptonite exposure and her tech was at the bottom of a crocodile-laden river. Of course it would. Chloe followed her belly through tangles of leaves. Clark ran just ahead of her, clutching his ribs. Bad guys had a lot of fun beating on Superman when he was vulnerable and Clark, damn his old codename, was always slow to fight back. When she tripped over some rotting logs, he yanked her up by the arm and pulled her along. She tripped too much these last few months.

Chopper engines roared overhead. Chloe yanked Clark into a tight growth of trees and bushes. Her back spasmed. Fortunately, the helicopters hid her pained gasp. She counted to five to regulate her breathing and relax best she could.

"Let's go," said Clark and off they limped again.

Snags like this really made Chloe rethink the wisdom of this mission. Once the got home, Kara's rant would likely blow a window off the Tower. A smile crawled onto her face as they sloshed through a shallow river. When all signs of man--choppers, shouts, gunfire, car fumes-- disappeared, they stopped. Finally. She inhaled. Another cramp cut it short, like a punch to the gut.

Clark leaned down, all big blue eyes of concern. "Where are you hurt?"

Trying for smile again, Chloe said, "Oh, y'know, where most women hurt when they're about to push something the size of a watermelon out of a hole the size of a grape."

"Oh my God."

She'd never heard Clark take the Lord's name in vain. "I'm pretty sure my water broke around the time we jumped the perimeter gates."

"Oh my God. I'm going to try the communicator again." Clark held the handpiece over his head, turning in a slow circle. "Green Arrow, this is Superman. Do you read? Cyborg? Black Canary? Aquaman? Powergirl? Impulse. Anyone. Watchtower, please sit down."

"I need to take off my pants."

His eyes widened. "There's mosquitoes everywhere."

"Which is only slightly less disgusting than warm body fluids trapped inside water-resistant uniforms. I'll put them back on, I just need to get cleaned up."

"With what? Banana leaves?" Clark put his hands on his hips. "As soon as we get home, we're going through survivalist training."

Chloe peeled off her pants, wrinkling her nose as at the musky, slightly sour smell of sweat and amniotic fluid. The cloth was designed to wick moisture away from the body; it did its job too well. There was no way she could wring this mess out and the idea of putting them back on was positively revolting. She caught Clark staring at her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to see how the baby's doing," he said. He shook his head with self-disgust. "My vision's still not back. It's awfully tight in there, isn't it?"

Chloe flinched. "I'm not sure which protocol would be appropriate for this situation."

"I'd hate to think we'd need one." Clark stripped his shirt off. "Use this to clean up."

"You'll be left defenceless against the rabid mosquitoes."

"Malaria-carrying mosquitoes. But I think I can sacrifice that much for my best friend."

She flinched again and muttered her thanks as she wiped at her legs.

"Um, do you want me to do some scouting? For a more comfortable place?"

"We're in a jungle. I think this is as good as it gets. The ground isn't wet, I don't see any evidence of wild pigs or jungle cats and Cambodia is one of the few places that doesn't have poisonous insects."

"Just malaria-carrying mosquitoes."

"Yes, Clark, just malaria-carrying mosquit-- ow."

She was in Clark's arms so quickly, she suspected he had part of his powers back. "What's wrong? What happened? What do I do?"

"Oh. I just." She wrinkled her nose. "That was a... slightly stronger contraction."

Clark's eyes widened even more. He was an eyelash away from popping those blue-green babies right out of his skull. Chloe felt it prudent to refrain from telling him that maybe she'd been having contractions since yesterday evening. Somehow, she had a feeling Clark wouldn't react well. It was just that she'd been having shooting back pains for almost four weeks now; she honestly thought that was all they were. Just more. Because she'd gotten bigger. She pushed him away to pull her pants up again. A tiny, foot-shaped protuberance travelled from Chloe's navel to just over her left hip. Clark's mouth hung open. "It's like a scene out of Alien."

"I hate you," said Chloe.

"Do you have painkillers in your belt?" Clark asked.

"What?"

"Painkillers," he repeated. "Antibiotics would be good, too."

"I'm not going into labour here."

"I just want to make su--"

"No!" Chloe dug her nails into his forearms, taking no notice or pleasure in making him wince. "I'm going to do this in a hospital. A hospital back home. Heck, I'd settle for Hawaii. Or Guam. Guam is an American territory and it's close. We can alert the hospital as soon as we're connected again." She gave his ear a significant look, tamping down resentment against the smile he gave her. It was a typically Superman smile, with all the well-meaning warmth and apple pie behind it that her teeth grizzled.

He mashed the button on his communicator again. "This is Boyscout. We could really use some help, guys. Please tell me someone's receiving this."

"QI's highest IQs plus yours truly on those comms as we're still stuck with each other for two hours until protocol kicks in and everyone panics." She had an elastic band in her utility belt; they were one of the best multitaskers in a superhero's tool kit. As she tied her hair back, she noticed Clark. His head was tilted to one side. "What?"

"Chloe, I'm never stuck with you."

She snorted.

Clark responded with a sigh that came from his diaphragm. "Let me lead," he said. "To make sure it's safe."

"Thanks but I haven't been a damsel in distress since senior year."

"I'm not saying you are but I think gradually increasing uterine cramps just might slow you down a bit. Let me help you."

"I don't need help, Dr. Oz!"

"Chloe."

"These things always last for hours. And walking is good for relieving pain."

He didn't bring up her comment moments ago about staying in place. Nor did he mention how it had been at least two hours since they left the compound where Clark had been held prisoner. No one could ever accuse Clark of being impolite. "How do you know labour lasts that long? You haven't attended any prenatal classes."

"Who needs prenatal classes when you have YouTube?"

He pulled another tactic. "You shouldn't have come to get me."

"There was no one else."

"You're due in two weeks," Clark reminded her.

"I stopped a mugging four days ago," Chloe countered. Then, grudgingly, she added, "Powergirl was available but we knew the blue kryptonite would affect her, too. So she just dropped me off. It was only supposed to be a simple extraction; I should've known 'simple' doesn't happen in our job."

"What I don't understand is why she still doesn't hear us."

"Maybe it's related to the fact that you still don't have your powers. Usually, blue kryptonite wears off as soon as you're away from it."

"Great, they've found a way to make it a long-range weapon." He held still, acting as support as Chloe shifted her weight down from a massive tree-root.

"What did you see inside the lab?"

"A lot of things in lead containers with a very familiar crown logo at the bottom," Clark answered.

"Checkmate," said Chloe. "You'd think an organization that arcane would try to be a little more subtle about the companies it fronts."

"I think hiding out as a Queen Industries subsidiary is subtle enough."

"It sure mades Arrow blow a fuse."

They shared a smile that was refreshingly genuine. Then Clark had go ruin it by being Clark. "Speaking of Arrow."

Chloe threw her hands up. "You are not lecturing me about my sex life in the middle of a botched-- owowowow." She hunched over, unable to catch her breath. Clark braced her upright, rubbing circles on her lower back.

"Don't hold your breath. Breathe in through your nose for three counts and out for four counts."

"I can't."

"You can. You can do anything."

The cramp started at her tailbone the radiated up to the small of her back and forward but on the inside, like a charley horse deep in her abdomen. Her knees trembled. "Oh God."

"I have you, don't worry."

Don't worry? This pain was supposed to get stronger and come more often and she wasn't supposed to worry? Not for the first time, Chloe played with the idea of hitting Clark with a large stick. He'd feel it; he was vulnerable right now. She even went so far as to look for a suitable weapon. Then he had to go and offer her ice cold water from his canteen, damn his appropriate codename.

"Just a sip," he began.

"I know, I know." She kept the mouthful in her mouth, swallowing only when it went tepid. She told herself she only leaned on Clark so much because her back ache had increased. They kept walking.

"What happened, Tower? When did we stop being best friends?"

"Don't be a drama queen, Kal-el, we're still friends."

"But we're not best-- don't clench your jaw, Tower, just breathe through it-- we're not best friends. We used to tell each other everything."

"Well then, if you had to pick a date, I'd say it was the day after Labour Day '05, ow, ow, ow, owwwwwww, why does this hurt so much?!" Clark made a motion to life her but Chloe stuck her hand out. "Do not touch me right now. I'll rip your fucking arms off."

"But--"

"No. Touching." Cupping the underside of her stomach, she leaned against a tree and asked, "Do we have a connection yet?"

"No," said Clark. "Chloe, I... did we really stop being friends after high school?"

"Are we really having a heart to heart about the state of our friendship in the middle of the jungle? When I'm in labour?"

"Well, it's the only time in the past five years that I've had your undivided attention."

"Actually, contrary to World Kal-el, my attention right now is on the fact that my vagina is doing a Vesuvius."

Green tinged Clark's cheekbones. "N-now, Watchtower, I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Go to hell."

She drank in the air, her mouth half open, rivulets of sweat gluing her hair to her cheeks and the back of her neck. Chloe kept walking, fingers clawed into Clark's arm. Mosquitoes left red, circular welts all over his exposed torso. He scratched them; Chloe could't remember him scratching himself ever. She'd known him for more than half her life and she'd never seen him do something as mundane as scratch an itch. "Are you all right?"

He stoped itching to brush some large, waxy leaves aside. "There should be a good place to rest just through there. I'll try making contact again."

With a groan, Chloe lowered herself on the jungle floor, using Clark's shirt as a mat. She cupped both hands low against her stomach, pressing down on the source of the cramps. Maybe she should take it easy. Take a few breaths. Walking might ease the pains but didn't she also read soemthing about it speeding the delivery? She might have; she wasn't sure. The heat and all the... well, all were frying her grey matter. In fact, she felt the all in question tightening the muscles across her abdomen. Chloe tipped her chin up and breathed.

"I thought I almost had static," said Clark. "Here, take some more water."

"What about you?"

"I've had some. You need it more."

She took the canteen. Daggers stabbed her spine. Chloe let out a yowl, squeezing the canteen and spraying water. Clark propped her up and gave her his hand in place of the canteen. This cramp was different. This one was long, radiating to the small of her back and all around her abdomen. Her entire lower torso felt stretched to the ripping point. Moaning, she arched her back, hoping to relieve some of the tension but it only moved down to her knees. All her pelvic muscles moved out and away, pulling everything else out and away and someone tell her body that everything was fine exactly where it was!

"Breathe, Chloe. I'll count it out for you, just breathe. One. Two. Three. Four. And out. Two. Three." Clark's voice seemed to come from a mile away.

"What was that?" she gasped.

"Clark, this is happening! Oh God, oh shit, God, this is really happening!"

"Yes, it is. You've probably been in active labour all day and now it's--"

"It can't happen now!"

"It's okay, Chloe, I'm here."

"I don't want you here!" she bellowed. "I want a doctor! I'll settle for a goddamn cell-phone connection so we can ask Emil that to -- oowwwww!"

Surprisingly, Clark didn't wince when she squeezed his hand. His powers were returning.

Chloe twisted to one side. "We have to get out of here."

"Stay down, Chloe."

"But I--"

"Hey." He put a hand on her forehead. "It's going to be okay."

"You know this because you've delivered hundreds of babies in your colourful career."

"Well, I have helped birthing foals and calves since I was twelve."

Chloe narrowed her eyes. "Did you just compare me to a cow?" There was no reply. Grunting through the pain, she pushed herself up on her elbows to glare over her huge belly to where he inspected her netherbits with a little too much scientific interest. "Clark?!"

"I think I see her head."

"No! No, you don't see a head! You can't see a head! I'm not giving birth here!"

"Breathe, Chloe."

"Fuck you! Fuck your breathing! Tell it to stop."

"That's not quite how it works."

"Make it work. You're the last fucking son of an advanced fucking alien civilization who managed to build fucking time machines and crystal fucking spaceships; you can stop. This. Labour!" Chloe wailed, fingers clenched around boggy dead muck, heels digging furrows into the same. "This sucks! This fucking sucks! I hate all of you!"

"I know you do. And you have every right."

"Don't patronize me."

"I'm not. You're absolutely correct. We do take you for granted. Me most of all. It's just that--" Clark's head popped up between her knees, hair in sweaty hanks, expression earnest and Chloe had a brief flashback to sophomore year when she would have killed to see that-- "It's just that you're so necessary, you know? We can-- I can always count on you to be there for me, so much so that I stopped thinking about it. I'm sorry, Chlo. I'll never do that again."

Out of anyone else's mouth, the words would have sounded trite.

Hours passed. Eternal, torturous hours when Chloe screamed her head off, not caring if Checkmate found them because maybe then they would end this pain. She'd never felt anything like it and it went on and on and on and on--

"I have her head, Chloe. She's gorgeous."

--her pelvic bones felt like they were cracking and she knew her vagina was splitting and all through the whole thing, this constant, twisting, breath-snatching pain. Not like a punch, more like all the muscles and organs in her abdomen yanked apart then crumpled into a ping-pong ball then yanked again, over and over, on and on and on and--

"Shoulders always gets a little stuck, don't worry."

--the fire coursing up her spine now, until her chest also cramped. She didn't have the energy left to scream; all she could muster were pathetic little whimpers, ragged and high-pitched. Her cheeks were stiff with tears and dirt; mud caked in the scratches on her hands--

"Here you are! Here's your little girl, Chloe." Clark laid a light, wet weight on her chest. Chloe held it steady automatically. She kept her eyes closed. She had to give it up. She couldn't look at it. Bonding would make everything harder.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Waiting for you to deliver the afterbirth." He lifted the weight off her chest. "Excuse me. I just have to cut her cord."

Chloe felt heat and a puff of air near her legs.

"Would you mind holding her again, while I help clean you up?"

"I can clean myself up." Chloe started to rise on her elbows again but found the effort almost too much. Tears welled up in her eyes, nothing new, except this time it had nothing to do with pain. "This is such a mess."

Clark paused in the middle of wiping her legs with his abused shirt. "I'm guessing you don't just mean the birth."

She shook her head, lips pressed in a tight line. The baby wriggled on her chest as her tears tracked down her cheeks and filled the whorls of her ears. She swiped at her eyes. Baby guck streaked her cheek. That only made her cry more, dammit, so she looked up at the canopy of leaves, blinked rapidly and tried to stop again.

"You're going to-- here, let me take her. You can finish with the... with cleaning yourself?" Clark lifted the little weight off her chest.

Chloe wiped her hands on rotting jungle leaves. Her whole area throbbed in a bad way. She had to be bleeding still; how could she not? She only hoped they'd be out of here before infection set in; she wouldn't at all be surprised of she got tetanus from all this bleeding in the dirt.

A few feet away, Clark used his heat vision to cut his cape in half.

"You have your powers," Chloe said.

"Some. No flight. That's always the last to come back." He fashioned a sling out of one half of the cape and tucked the baby inside, pressed close to his chest. Holding the other half to her, he said, "I can cut this one up. For rags."

"Thanks," she said. She had a knife but there was no vouching for its cleanliness. She cleaned as much of the blood off with one scrap, wincing at the soreness that sharpened even with her gingerly pats. Two of the scraps she folded and wedged between her legs as a makeshift sanitary napkin. That left four spare scraps for the future that she hoped wouldn't be needed.

"Can I turn around yet?" Clark asked.

"You were just up close and personal with my girly bits. I don't think we need to observe proprieties any more."

"Extenuating circumstances. I, um, I think she's hungry." He held the baby out to her, squirming, red-faced, conical-headed.

Chloe bit her lip.

"I'll look away," said Clark.

She wasn't afraid of that but didn't want to correct him. "I... I don't know how to hold..."

"Like this." He helped her lean back against a tree trunk and shoved the baby's-- omigosh, this was a real baby!-- face onto her breast so its-- her-- entire mouth was filled with nipple and areole. "The calves sometimes don't know that how much of the teat to take in. If they just grab the tip, the suction does nothing."

"This certainly feels like something," said Chloe. With every suck, tingles scuttled up her breasts and her womb cramped at half the strength of labour pains. She grunted, closing her eyes. Step back, step away, think of it as a body function, as saving someone's life like CPR. Clark fidgeted beside her.

"If you... if you haven't already done the paper work... of course, you probably have but I had to... Chloe, I want her. I want to adopt her."

Her eyes snapped open at that. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't stand the idea that she'll be stranger to her family or that strangers will take care of her," said Clark. "I love my parents more than anything and I'm thankful that they adopted me but I spent so much of my life questioning my roots that I created problems for myself. I don't know the details of your adoption agreement because I promised you I wouldn't interfere but, Chloe, she's so perfect. She's got your nose and your mouth. My best friend's nose and mouth. You're practically my sister and it just feels wrong that I wouldn't do this for you."

"Clark, the whole reason I'm giving her up is because neither you or I or Ollie or anyone else in our duct-taped definition of a family has the kind of lifestyle conducive to raising a child. She'd be in danger every day. If we were even ever around to take care of her."

"Then I quit."

She let out one, curt laugh before realised he was dead serious. "You can't."

"I can. I have to. If I'm going to take care of my sister's child, I have to devote one hundred percent of my time to--"

"The world needs you!"

"More than the baby?"

If she said yes, he'd never forgive her. So she bit her lip. Again. "You're single and male. The chances of the courts approving the adoption are slim."

"Only if you refuse my offer."

"We need your skills."

"Kara has all my powers. She's better at using some of them than I am."

"You can't be serious."

"Yes, I am."

"But--" But the whole point of this adoption was to make sure the League stayed intact and fully functional. But a baby posed a ridiculously high security risk. But if Clark retired from heroing this early in the game, he'd never really be happy. But if the baby was around all the time, Chloe might love her and if she loved her, she would lose her.

Clark jumped up, placing a hand at his ear where his comm still hung. "Cyborg! You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you. Are you locked on our coordinates? Good." He glanced quickly at her then walked a small distance away. "We'll need some medical equipment. Prep the clinic."

Bracing herself, Chloe looked down. The baby's cheeks worked furiously. Her forehead wrinkled, deeply concentrating on the hard work at hand. Or rather, at mouth. She looked up at Superman, standing with his hands on his hips and his legs braced shoulders' width apart, like a brightly coloured statue of a paladin in repose. Ever the protector.

Well, she was Watchtower and it was her job to protect him even from himself. She held the baby closer. Especially from himself.