Bring Me to Life (One/?)
Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Conclusion
Chapter One
Martha Kent stared out the window above the kitchen sink, reaching up absently to tuck a strand of red hair behind her ear. Behind her, her husband was leaned against the counter, sipping a cup of coffee in silence. She let out a breath and closed her eyes briefly, bowing her head a little. “Do you think he’s right?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, his voice showing signs of his own exhaustion.
The last 36 hours had been horrible, to say the least. They’d both been certain for awhile that they were going to lose Clark to some unknown Kryptonian affliction and now it appeared that somehow Chloe Sullivan had saved him--possibly sacrificing her own life to do so.
“You were right about Fine,” she murmured. “We should never have trusted him.”
Jonathan remained silent.
“If something happened to her because we did…” Her voice trailed off, then turned to face him, guilt obvious in her eyes.
“We don’t know anything for sure, Martha.”
“Clark said he was with her when she died. That he saw her…”
“How can that be? He was on the sofa the entire time.” He shook his head.
She bit her lower lip, then looked at the floor. “I don’t know. But we both do know that there’s a lot about Clark and his abilities that we don’t understand or maybe even know about.”
He sighed softly and stared into his mug. “I don’t really know what to do.”
“Me either.” Martha smiled sadly, looking toward the stairs. “But if something did happen to her…I don’t know how he’s gonna get through it,” she whispered.
Wordlessly he put his mug down and wrapped his arms around her in silent support.
* * *
Clark was sure that he had somehow fallen unconscious once more, that he was dreaming this, because it certainly couldn’t be real. Chloe Sullivan couldn’t really be sitting on his bed, staring at him wide-eyed and looking every bit as confused as he felt.
“Clark?” she whispered, her eyebrows furrowing.
He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He simply stared at her, drinking in the sight of her. Her blond hair was shining in the dim sunlight that was pouring in from his window, her hazel eyes just as real and bright as he remembered them. She was a bit paler than usual, and her clothes were a bit worse for the wear, but she was there. On his bed. Alive.
Alive.
“What…” Swallowing, he slowly moved over to where she sat, still uncertain if he was dreaming. He hesitantly reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek and he watched her eyes widen a little more.
“How did I get here?” Chloe whispered, her voice choked.
Clark gazed at her, shaking his head in silence and trailing his fingers along her cheekbone gently, afraid that she would disappear at any given moment. His hand slowly dropped to her shoulder and very lightly slid down her arm. He swallowed hard as she shivered a little, goosebumps raising on her arms.
If this was his imagination, or a mere dream, it was certainly a vividly realistic one.
Tears flooded his eyes once more and he lifted his gaze to meet hers and for a moment they just looked at one another, neither of them speaking, nor knowing what to say. It certainly didn’t make any sense.
And he suddenly realized it didn’t matter. It didn’t have to make sense. Chloe was alive--somehow--by some incredible miracle--and that was all that mattered. A small noise alarmed him--a sob--and he was even more stunned to realize it had come from his lips. Wordlessly he gathered her into his arms, burying his face in her silky blond hair. Clutching onto her like a lifeline.
She’d come back to him.
And he wasn’t about to let her go.