fic for g8r_gal
For: g8r_gal
From: h2osprincess
Request: smut, humor, reconciliation
Type: Fic
Title: Remembering The Girl
Rating: NC-17 for about a second
Warnings: Very general season 8 spoilers; set in an AU Season 9. I prefer to pretend most of this season didn’t happen anyway.
Summary: Lyrics are from “Around You” by Ingrid Michaelson
A/N: Nor sure this meets the request, but it’s what my muse was willing to give me. Happy Valentine’s Day!
--
Do you feel what I feel? Well?
Do you feel this way too?
That every wound seems to heal when I am around you.
--
He’s gasping, tears running freely down his cheeks.
“No…please. Please don’t…” He begs, shaky fingers tracing the contours of her face. Fire in his veins, blurring his vision and tearing him apart, cell by cell. He can’t win, and he knows it.
“I can’t…I don’t want to…” His words trail off into a coughing fit, and he knows from her sob that its blood he tastes.
“Oh, Clark.” He’s never seen her cry so hard, and he wants more than anything to comfort her, but his body won’t listen to his commands. “This isn’t the way it ends. The world needs you too much.”
He’s so sorry. He failed her. Failed them all.
He feels like he’s falling as the darkness takes him. Slender arms surround him and her keening wail is the last thing he hears.
--
Death is surprisingly…bright. Lightness fills his chest, and he draws the lungful of air he’s been desperate for since the blade first pierced his skin.
His blurry vision coalesces into the vast crystal pyres of his fortress, and he shoots up in horror.
“NO!”
He looks around frantically, scrambling to her side when he finds her slumped behind him. Her skin matches the ice.
“Nononononono. Stay with me, Chloe. Don’t you dare leave me.” He shakes her shoulders and her head lolls, boneless. He can’t fight the tears, and he can’t keep his voice from breaking around his begging. “Chloe!”
Terrified of what he’ll find, he extends his hearing and prays to whatever higher power might be listening that he’ll be met with the cadence that has been a comfort since he developed the ability.
His stomach turns violently at the silence.
Oh, God.
“Please come back. Please come back. Please come back.” He’s rocking her as gently as his desperation will allow. “I can’t do this without you. I tried to tell you, Chloe. I’m no good without you.”
Minutes pass. His mind races in the haze of confusion and grief. Why would she do this to him?
He’s out of options.
“JOR-EL!”
“Yes, my son.”
“You saw what she did!”
“I did. Her sacrifice was most…unexpected.”
“No, it wasn’t. You need to fix this!”
“What is done cannot be undone. I am sorry, my son.”
“She came back before.”
The pause is pregnant, and Clark holds his breath. “Place her on the dais.”
He lays her down gently, shivering as he feels how cool her untouched skin has become. A shaft of blue light surrounds her, and her body rises like a marionette until her feet float a foot off the dais. He’s terrified of what his father might do, but he can’t lose her.
“The toll of healing you was too great. Her body is trying to reabsorb energy, but I’m afraid there is not enough time.”
“Time for what?”
“Her spirit clings tenaciously to the shell, but there is not enough energy to bind it until she is healed. I am truly sorry, son. Even if her body is restored, it her mind will be absent. It is kinder to destroy the husk now.”
“No! There has to be a way!” He knows his voice is cracking, but he’s clinging to sanity with his last ounce of strength. “I can’t live without her. I don’t want to.”
“You cannot let your human emotions blind you, Kal-El. Your fate is far greater than a single human can affect.”
“Don’t you talk about her like that. Don’t you dare!” He sobs. “She’s my best friend. The only reason I ever agreed to your training was to make her proud. She’s the most intelligent, insanely loyal person I’ve ever met, and I won’t save a world that doesn’t have her in it.”
It’s true. She’s been his humanity since soon after he realized he lacked it. Her passion for truth and justice has become his own. Without her, he’s a sham.
The AI is silent a moment. “I believe I understand, Kal-El.” His tone is strangely respectful. “There may be a solution, but it is not without personal risk.”
“Anything. I’d do anything to bring her back.”
“I hope you maintain the sentiment when you understand what is at stake.”
“What do you mean?”
“A soul cannot remain in this dimension for any length of time without living flesh. Since hers is too damaged to offer an adequate lifeline for her spirit, you would need to serve as her host.”
“Her…host?”
“Your mind is uniquely suited to handle the stress of a second entity, but it will be a strain, both mentally and physically.”
“How long?”
“Assuming her current rate of recovery increases as the healing process progresses, the minimum time you would need to remain joined would be 32 solar days.”
“Do it.”
“I have not yet advised you of the risks.”
“I don’t care. Whatever it is, it’s worth the chance.”
“My son, do not be blinded by your haste. The risks are as significant to her as they are to you.”
That gives him reason for pause. “Go on.”
“As strong as your mind and spirit are, there is the possibility that you will reject the foreign presence on a subconscious level. If you do, her consciousness could be torn apart.”
“That won’t happen.” They’ve always fit like two halves of a whole. This just takes the idea of roommates to a whole new level.
“Conversely, the stress of maintaining two unique individuals’ memories and spirits could cause your own mind to bleed the two together, or fracture entirely.”
He wants to care; he should care for all the people who would die if he really lost it. But staring into her face and looking eye to eye with a world that doesn’t contain Chloe Sullivan’s unique brand of snark, he can’t muster the willpower.
The world can go screw itself if he loses her.
“My answer hasn’t changed. What do I need to do?”
“Nothing.” The AI answers a split second before a ray of white light shoots forth from the console and envelops them both.
---
He wakes in his loft, breathing deep the mingled scents of hay, dust, motor oil, and animals. The sun is setting peacefully beyond his window and the sky is ablaze with its departure.
Familiar footsteps sound on the landing, and he turns, almost afraid of what he’ll find.
“Gee, Clark. If I’d known you were going to roll out the welcome wagon in the afterlife, I wouldn’t have fought this quite so hard.”
“Chloe!” He wraps her in the tightest hug he’s dared since he was three. He can feel her confusion as though it’s his own, but he’s so relieved to see her smile it doesn’t matter.
“Hello to you, too, Hobbs.” She laughs and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.
He pulls back to make sure she’s still there. “I can’t believe it worked!”
“What worked?”
He sobers at that, hoping she can forgive him for taking the decision away from her. The reminder that he was only following in her stubborn footsteps echoes from some dark corner of his heart.
“Whoa.” She rocks back and puts a hand to her temple. “What the hell was that?”
“That was the part of me that wants to kick your ass a little for never listening to me.” He’s not ashamed of the sentiment, but he is embarrassed that she got a hint of the ferocity. “Seriously, Chlo. You shouldn’t have done that. You didn’t know what healing someone like me would take out of you.”
Now it’s his turn to be rocked by her certainty. She tilts her head at him like he’s slow on the uptake.
“Of course I did, Clark. There’s a whole world out there that needs you, and even if there wasn’t, you’re worth it.”
He blinks furiously, but a few stubborn tears escape anyway as he pulls her back into a hug. “God, Chlo. I was so scared.”
“I can feel it. Why is that?”
He steps back at that and digs his hands in his pockets. “It’s…kind of…because we’re in my mind.”
She blinks. “Come again?”
“Your body was healing too slowly to support your consciousness. You would have come back brain dead.”
“And now I won’t because…?”
“I’m providing temporary accommodations?”
“Wait. I’m in your body?”
“Um, well, when you say it that way…” He trails off. “Basically.”
“I’m in your body.” He’s not sure it’s a question anymore.
She looks around in wonder. “So this…this is all a construct our minds put together?”
It is pretty amazing, because when he concentrates, he can feel her mind. He knows instinctually that this should be uncomfortable. It isn’t though, because neither of them is fighting it.
He knew they were on the same wavelength, but this is a little ridiculous.
She smiles suddenly. “This is so cool, Clark. I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather share a brain with in the universe.”
Leave it to Chloe to make the strangest living arrangements on earth sound as mundane as breakfast at IHOP.
The honest appreciation that echoes her words is a little jarring. He never admitted it out loud, but he always suspected Chloe tolerated his antics more out of her overgrown sense of responsibility to the world at large. The idea that she meant what she said when he told her the whole truth is humbling.
She has a hero complex of her own that’s a mile wide. Why else would she run work for Ollie on the side?
“I can hear that, you know.” She grins wickedly. “I didn’t know you were so jealous of others borrowing your favorite sidekick, Clark Kent.”
There’s a lot she doesn’t know. He’s going to have to be so careful.
--
Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it. She collapses into a fit of giggles when he admits that alien powers or no, he can’t pee with an audience.
It’s contagious and she almost gets to see the big, tough Kryptonian wet himself laughing.
Two weeks on, and nothing tops morning wood on the embarrassment Richter. He wonders how much she saw of the dream that preceded it.
When an overwhelming panic overtakes him at the thought, he mistakes it for his own. It isn’t until two mornings later that he figures out they’re having the same dreams.
They don’t sleep for two days.
She’s chatty and way too pig-headed to stay in the compartments he tries to build for her. Like the reporter she is, Chloe goes rifling though every closet, every drawer, mulling over memories and offering her own take in return.
He’s known her forever, but he never knew how much she wanted Sean Kelvin to like her. He didn’t know that she’d served as Justin’s only connection to the outside world while he recovered from surgery.
Instead of movie night, they’ve taken to replaying memories from both sides. It’s comedy that so much was always misinterpreted, and tragedy that neither took the time to address it before now. Sometimes, it’s horror to realize how close they both came to losing everything.
He accepts the curiosity as part of the package. Resisting would only hurt her, and he can’t bear to do any more damage than he already has.
His own curiosity got the better of him early on, and his mind needs far less rest. He’s taken to rifling through her memories from time to time, and is utterly unsurprised that they take the shape of the Daily Planet archives.
Even disguised as puff pieces or pared down to the who, what, when, where, why, and how, he can see the pain in the faded news ink. His Chloe is a survivor.
When he reads about that day in the woods, sees the clueless boy he was, he shakes his head. He’d put the possibility of anything more than friendship with Chloe out of his mind that day, tired of being responsible for someone else’s happiness.
Only, the further he delves into the archives, the more he realizes he never lost that responsibility.
He just stopped living up to it.
When he reaches a sunny afternoon on the football field, he can practically feel the exposure, the disappointment that goes beyond his own experience. He feels the moment things changed.
At least now he understands the kiss at the end of the world and the reunion that left his head spinning.
He only has one rule - one door that remains off limits. It figures that she would leave herself so thoroughly exposed while he shields the part of himself he understands least.
Despite the surge of curiosity he felt from her when he set the boundary, she simply nodded her understanding, and wandered off with that Mona Lisa smile.
The dreams…after the first few weeks they settle into simple things like flying together and picnics at Crater Lake.
Tonight, though, they sway nervously on a balloon littered dance floor. He’s distracted by the glitter in her hair when a purple elephant wearing Lex’s grin floats by holding a blue beehive of cotton candy. She laughs.
She’s breaking their unspoken rules by acknowledging the press of real-world absurdity on their shared subconscious ramblings. He forgives her. He wouldn’t know how not to.
The dream shifts, and they’re floating high above Reeves Dam. He feels her fear. She feels his grief.
This was the moment. Everything that came after pulled them farther apart. Hovering over the curve of the dam, he feels the precipice of time weighing heavily on their spirits and wishes it all away.
Lois, Jimmy, Lex, Lana, Kara... The spider web of suffering extends past the horizon in every direction, and they ache for the innocence lost that day.
When they wake, they’re both in a melancholy mood. Chloe occupies herself with planning out his farm chores while he showers and prepares to shave. The beginnings of thoughts flit across his mind, and he wonders who the shadows between longing and fear belong to.
Four weeks ago, he would have assumed they were Chloe’s without hesitation. He was better at containing his own reaction then.
Now…well, now he gets distracted watching her. Whether she’s picking apart the clues and sliding them into a shape he never would have considered or humming a tune while they watch TV, she captivates him the same way sunrise does.
He sees her every day, but there are moments she takes his breath away.
This is one of them. He’s finished his shower, and is wiping condensation off the mirror he uses to shave when he catches her reflection. It’s a little schizophrenic when she invades his perception of reality like this, but he’s gotten used to it. He hardly ever jumps anymore.
This time, he has no desire to jump. She’s seated on the side of the tub, reporter’s tablet in hand and reviewing yesterday’s interview with the head of neurology at Metropolis General. He can feel her frustration at the obvious dodge when they asked the woman about her prior involvement in Cadmus-funded research. The thrill of the chase is there, too.
She is beautiful, but that’s not what captivates him most. There’s quiet determination in everything she does; loyalty like a mountain and a curiosity that burns.
“Chloe?” He breaks the silence that’s hung between them since waking.
“Yeah?” She’s jotting down ideas and doesn’t look up.
“Why are you friends with me?”
She rocks back a little at that, obviously thrown by the question.
“Where’s this coming from?”
“Just, humor me. Why are you friends with me?”
She looks conflicted, feels it too. “Because…because I don’t want to imagine life without you in it.”
He feels the blush before he sees it light her figment of skin. It was more than she wanted to say, and anything less would have been a lie.
He shares the full measure of his gratitude for her. “Me neither.”
Later that day, Lois is harassing him about the puff piece she tried to dump on his desk that morning. It’s the first time he recognizes words that aren’t his passing his lips.
“Come on Lo, give a guy a break.”
Lois stops cold.
“What did you just say?”
He ignores the shared panic. “Uh, nothing. I haven’t been feeling well all morning. I think I’m going to have to suck it up and take a sick day.”
“You do realize this will be the third in two weeks, don’t you Smallville? They don’t let you keep jobs you can’t manage to get to daily.”
“Oh, please, Lo. It’s not like I’m trying to expense hair band concerts in my first week on the job.”
This time, he literally clamps a hand over his mouth and begins backing away.
“You okay, Smallville? Because if you are I can fix that.” Lois’ is wary.
“Sorry. Like I said, I’m not feeling well. Going home now. Cover for me?” He stumbles over most of the words, but it seems to help his cause because Lois just shoes him out the door with assurances that she’ll pass the message along.
“What the hell?!?!” They both ask when they’re safely ensconced in their…no, his…darkened loft.
He looks up and Chloe’s cross-legged on the couch running her hands through her hair and worrying her lip. He can’t look away and she looks up, confused.
“Clark?”
Yeah, he didn’t even think to hide that one.
“Maybe there’s Red K?” She asks.
There isn’t, but he’d love to find some. He thinks he remembers…
The rush is indescribable and everything is amplified by their shared perceptions. Oh, Christ…
Looking up, he sees familiar black streaks and a wicked grin and he doesn’t hesitate to lean over and capture her lips in a scorching kiss, made hotter by the fact that they can both feel everything.
A nagging corner of his mind warns that something in this isn’t quite right, but the rest of him just couldn’t give a damn when she’s crawling into his lap and writhing against him like that.
In a flash, she’s got her shirt off and his is on its way there. He doesn’t care if it’s his imagination, when their bare chests meet it feels like he’s on fire. He has to have her, again and again. He’s always wanted her this way; over him, under him, screaming his name as she comes again and again.
He has no idea where his pants have gone, but her tiny hand is around him and he’s sobbing her name like a dying man.
She leans in, kissing a trail from his mouth to his neck and worrying his earlobe as she pumps away at him, hard.
Suddenly he’s screaming and crying and cumming so hard he sees stars. It’s never been so good.
When he comes back to himself, she’s boneless and sated in his lap. She regards him with curiously sad eyes, slipping the ring-that-isn’t off his finger and tucking it away in the box of his memory.
“Something’s wrong.” She whispers. He feels the acceptance and it scares him into action. He cleans up as fast as he knows how and speeds them to the fortress.
“Jor-El!” He bellows. “We need your help!”
“What is it, my son?”
“We’re…bleeding together. It’s too much.”
“Be still, by son.”
Light engulfs them.
---
The forbidden door stands before them, rough-hewn wood protecting the memories he’s not ready to share. They go through it together.
It was an enigma. He knew the world he found himself in was nothing more than a simulation created by his father’s AI, yet he can’t shake the uncomfortable certainty.
Chloe was going to marry him.
It wasn’t hard to see. The guy even parted his hair on the same side. And he was obviously Metropolis PD, the kind of hero Clark wasn’t ready to be yet.
Yet.
He felt the pull of it every day, even with Lana.
She looked happy. Proud in a way he hadn’t seen her since before he freed her from a Luthor wine cellar.
He didn’t realize how badly he’d missed that smile, so the pang caught him off guard. He wants to be the man she looks at like that.
But he can’t. He knows he can’t give her what she needs; what she deserves.
It’s like a law of physics - Clark Kent can only break Chloe Sullivan’s heart. They’re a macabre matched set.
She’s everything he needs, so she’s the last thing he wants.
He wishes, sometimes, that he could love her the way he knows she once loved him. Even his father seems in on the joke. But he can’t.
He’s just…wired wrong, or something. All he wants - all he’s ever wanted, really - are the ones he can’t have or the ones he shouldn’t have. Always the ones who hold him back and ground him in the worst ways imaginable.
If he could love Chloe Sullivan the right way, he knows he could be the kind of man she would be proud of. They could save the world together, laugh together, become…more, together.
To confuse matters even more, he’s connected to her in a way he can hardly grasp, much less explain. He can’t bear to be without her for long, and even if he’s not the most observant guy around, her moods often become his moods.
If she’s lonely, so is he. If she’s frightened or frustrated, terrified or overjoyed, it never fails that he’s soon to follow. Even with Lana, he felt it. Especially with Lana.
He should have been floating on cloud nine, living with the girl of his dreams, but he’d never felt more disconnected - out of touch with…everything.
It’s love, but it’s not what she deserves. She deserves to have someone ache for her, pursue her, adore her. She deserves a guy who’ll wander around in a bliss-induced haze for days after their first kiss. Someone who challenges her and sees the million and one thoughts flying behind her twinkling grin.
She deserves a hero, more than anyone he knows.
Just like that, she’s closing the door. It feels like his heart might have gotten stuck in the jamb.
“It’s alright. I understand.” The acceptance is familiar. He hates that.
“No, it’s not.”
She smiles sadly. “It has to be.”
“It doesn’t. You don’t understand. I do love you. I just…I always thought it was wrong.”
“Love can’t be wrong. It is or it isn’t, Clark.”
“Well, this time it is.”
She doesn’t respond, backing away instead. He follows without hesitation.
“It is. It always will be.”
The world pales to white before he can reach her.
---
The brightness fades and his soul is empty. He’s never felt so alone.
Clark Kent wakes to the purest form of grief he has ever experienced. She’s gone, and it feels like the light went out of the world.
It takes a second to realize the groan he hears isn’t his own.
“Clark?”
“Chloe? Oh, my God, Chloe.” It’s a prayer and a hymn of thanks and he’s gathered her into his arms in an awkward hug before he fully registers her nakedness.
She sputters, and he could care less.
“Clark!” She screeches. “Clark, where are my… Oh, my God!”
He can’t help the laughter that bubbles up. The last month has been a roller coaster and he just found out the woman he loves most in the world is alive and well and…well, naked. It’s absurd and they look ridiculous and he can’t care about anything more than her.
The next logical step is definitely kissing. She seems to disagree, if the slapping is any indication.
That’s okay. There’s time enough.
---
End
---
Remember to the feed the writer.
From: h2osprincess
Request: smut, humor, reconciliation
Type: Fic
Title: Remembering The Girl
Rating: NC-17 for about a second
Warnings: Very general season 8 spoilers; set in an AU Season 9. I prefer to pretend most of this season didn’t happen anyway.
Summary: Lyrics are from “Around You” by Ingrid Michaelson
A/N: Nor sure this meets the request, but it’s what my muse was willing to give me. Happy Valentine’s Day!
--
Do you feel what I feel? Well?
Do you feel this way too?
That every wound seems to heal when I am around you.
--
He’s gasping, tears running freely down his cheeks.
“No…please. Please don’t…” He begs, shaky fingers tracing the contours of her face. Fire in his veins, blurring his vision and tearing him apart, cell by cell. He can’t win, and he knows it.
“I can’t…I don’t want to…” His words trail off into a coughing fit, and he knows from her sob that its blood he tastes.
“Oh, Clark.” He’s never seen her cry so hard, and he wants more than anything to comfort her, but his body won’t listen to his commands. “This isn’t the way it ends. The world needs you too much.”
He’s so sorry. He failed her. Failed them all.
He feels like he’s falling as the darkness takes him. Slender arms surround him and her keening wail is the last thing he hears.
--
Death is surprisingly…bright. Lightness fills his chest, and he draws the lungful of air he’s been desperate for since the blade first pierced his skin.
His blurry vision coalesces into the vast crystal pyres of his fortress, and he shoots up in horror.
“NO!”
He looks around frantically, scrambling to her side when he finds her slumped behind him. Her skin matches the ice.
“Nononononono. Stay with me, Chloe. Don’t you dare leave me.” He shakes her shoulders and her head lolls, boneless. He can’t fight the tears, and he can’t keep his voice from breaking around his begging. “Chloe!”
Terrified of what he’ll find, he extends his hearing and prays to whatever higher power might be listening that he’ll be met with the cadence that has been a comfort since he developed the ability.
His stomach turns violently at the silence.
Oh, God.
“Please come back. Please come back. Please come back.” He’s rocking her as gently as his desperation will allow. “I can’t do this without you. I tried to tell you, Chloe. I’m no good without you.”
Minutes pass. His mind races in the haze of confusion and grief. Why would she do this to him?
He’s out of options.
“JOR-EL!”
“Yes, my son.”
“You saw what she did!”
“I did. Her sacrifice was most…unexpected.”
“No, it wasn’t. You need to fix this!”
“What is done cannot be undone. I am sorry, my son.”
“She came back before.”
The pause is pregnant, and Clark holds his breath. “Place her on the dais.”
He lays her down gently, shivering as he feels how cool her untouched skin has become. A shaft of blue light surrounds her, and her body rises like a marionette until her feet float a foot off the dais. He’s terrified of what his father might do, but he can’t lose her.
“The toll of healing you was too great. Her body is trying to reabsorb energy, but I’m afraid there is not enough time.”
“Time for what?”
“Her spirit clings tenaciously to the shell, but there is not enough energy to bind it until she is healed. I am truly sorry, son. Even if her body is restored, it her mind will be absent. It is kinder to destroy the husk now.”
“No! There has to be a way!” He knows his voice is cracking, but he’s clinging to sanity with his last ounce of strength. “I can’t live without her. I don’t want to.”
“You cannot let your human emotions blind you, Kal-El. Your fate is far greater than a single human can affect.”
“Don’t you talk about her like that. Don’t you dare!” He sobs. “She’s my best friend. The only reason I ever agreed to your training was to make her proud. She’s the most intelligent, insanely loyal person I’ve ever met, and I won’t save a world that doesn’t have her in it.”
It’s true. She’s been his humanity since soon after he realized he lacked it. Her passion for truth and justice has become his own. Without her, he’s a sham.
The AI is silent a moment. “I believe I understand, Kal-El.” His tone is strangely respectful. “There may be a solution, but it is not without personal risk.”
“Anything. I’d do anything to bring her back.”
“I hope you maintain the sentiment when you understand what is at stake.”
“What do you mean?”
“A soul cannot remain in this dimension for any length of time without living flesh. Since hers is too damaged to offer an adequate lifeline for her spirit, you would need to serve as her host.”
“Her…host?”
“Your mind is uniquely suited to handle the stress of a second entity, but it will be a strain, both mentally and physically.”
“How long?”
“Assuming her current rate of recovery increases as the healing process progresses, the minimum time you would need to remain joined would be 32 solar days.”
“Do it.”
“I have not yet advised you of the risks.”
“I don’t care. Whatever it is, it’s worth the chance.”
“My son, do not be blinded by your haste. The risks are as significant to her as they are to you.”
That gives him reason for pause. “Go on.”
“As strong as your mind and spirit are, there is the possibility that you will reject the foreign presence on a subconscious level. If you do, her consciousness could be torn apart.”
“That won’t happen.” They’ve always fit like two halves of a whole. This just takes the idea of roommates to a whole new level.
“Conversely, the stress of maintaining two unique individuals’ memories and spirits could cause your own mind to bleed the two together, or fracture entirely.”
He wants to care; he should care for all the people who would die if he really lost it. But staring into her face and looking eye to eye with a world that doesn’t contain Chloe Sullivan’s unique brand of snark, he can’t muster the willpower.
The world can go screw itself if he loses her.
“My answer hasn’t changed. What do I need to do?”
“Nothing.” The AI answers a split second before a ray of white light shoots forth from the console and envelops them both.
---
He wakes in his loft, breathing deep the mingled scents of hay, dust, motor oil, and animals. The sun is setting peacefully beyond his window and the sky is ablaze with its departure.
Familiar footsteps sound on the landing, and he turns, almost afraid of what he’ll find.
“Gee, Clark. If I’d known you were going to roll out the welcome wagon in the afterlife, I wouldn’t have fought this quite so hard.”
“Chloe!” He wraps her in the tightest hug he’s dared since he was three. He can feel her confusion as though it’s his own, but he’s so relieved to see her smile it doesn’t matter.
“Hello to you, too, Hobbs.” She laughs and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.
He pulls back to make sure she’s still there. “I can’t believe it worked!”
“What worked?”
He sobers at that, hoping she can forgive him for taking the decision away from her. The reminder that he was only following in her stubborn footsteps echoes from some dark corner of his heart.
“Whoa.” She rocks back and puts a hand to her temple. “What the hell was that?”
“That was the part of me that wants to kick your ass a little for never listening to me.” He’s not ashamed of the sentiment, but he is embarrassed that she got a hint of the ferocity. “Seriously, Chlo. You shouldn’t have done that. You didn’t know what healing someone like me would take out of you.”
Now it’s his turn to be rocked by her certainty. She tilts her head at him like he’s slow on the uptake.
“Of course I did, Clark. There’s a whole world out there that needs you, and even if there wasn’t, you’re worth it.”
He blinks furiously, but a few stubborn tears escape anyway as he pulls her back into a hug. “God, Chlo. I was so scared.”
“I can feel it. Why is that?”
He steps back at that and digs his hands in his pockets. “It’s…kind of…because we’re in my mind.”
She blinks. “Come again?”
“Your body was healing too slowly to support your consciousness. You would have come back brain dead.”
“And now I won’t because…?”
“I’m providing temporary accommodations?”
“Wait. I’m in your body?”
“Um, well, when you say it that way…” He trails off. “Basically.”
“I’m in your body.” He’s not sure it’s a question anymore.
She looks around in wonder. “So this…this is all a construct our minds put together?”
It is pretty amazing, because when he concentrates, he can feel her mind. He knows instinctually that this should be uncomfortable. It isn’t though, because neither of them is fighting it.
He knew they were on the same wavelength, but this is a little ridiculous.
She smiles suddenly. “This is so cool, Clark. I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather share a brain with in the universe.”
Leave it to Chloe to make the strangest living arrangements on earth sound as mundane as breakfast at IHOP.
The honest appreciation that echoes her words is a little jarring. He never admitted it out loud, but he always suspected Chloe tolerated his antics more out of her overgrown sense of responsibility to the world at large. The idea that she meant what she said when he told her the whole truth is humbling.
She has a hero complex of her own that’s a mile wide. Why else would she run work for Ollie on the side?
“I can hear that, you know.” She grins wickedly. “I didn’t know you were so jealous of others borrowing your favorite sidekick, Clark Kent.”
There’s a lot she doesn’t know. He’s going to have to be so careful.
--
Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it. She collapses into a fit of giggles when he admits that alien powers or no, he can’t pee with an audience.
It’s contagious and she almost gets to see the big, tough Kryptonian wet himself laughing.
Two weeks on, and nothing tops morning wood on the embarrassment Richter. He wonders how much she saw of the dream that preceded it.
When an overwhelming panic overtakes him at the thought, he mistakes it for his own. It isn’t until two mornings later that he figures out they’re having the same dreams.
They don’t sleep for two days.
She’s chatty and way too pig-headed to stay in the compartments he tries to build for her. Like the reporter she is, Chloe goes rifling though every closet, every drawer, mulling over memories and offering her own take in return.
He’s known her forever, but he never knew how much she wanted Sean Kelvin to like her. He didn’t know that she’d served as Justin’s only connection to the outside world while he recovered from surgery.
Instead of movie night, they’ve taken to replaying memories from both sides. It’s comedy that so much was always misinterpreted, and tragedy that neither took the time to address it before now. Sometimes, it’s horror to realize how close they both came to losing everything.
He accepts the curiosity as part of the package. Resisting would only hurt her, and he can’t bear to do any more damage than he already has.
His own curiosity got the better of him early on, and his mind needs far less rest. He’s taken to rifling through her memories from time to time, and is utterly unsurprised that they take the shape of the Daily Planet archives.
Even disguised as puff pieces or pared down to the who, what, when, where, why, and how, he can see the pain in the faded news ink. His Chloe is a survivor.
When he reads about that day in the woods, sees the clueless boy he was, he shakes his head. He’d put the possibility of anything more than friendship with Chloe out of his mind that day, tired of being responsible for someone else’s happiness.
Only, the further he delves into the archives, the more he realizes he never lost that responsibility.
He just stopped living up to it.
When he reaches a sunny afternoon on the football field, he can practically feel the exposure, the disappointment that goes beyond his own experience. He feels the moment things changed.
At least now he understands the kiss at the end of the world and the reunion that left his head spinning.
He only has one rule - one door that remains off limits. It figures that she would leave herself so thoroughly exposed while he shields the part of himself he understands least.
Despite the surge of curiosity he felt from her when he set the boundary, she simply nodded her understanding, and wandered off with that Mona Lisa smile.
The dreams…after the first few weeks they settle into simple things like flying together and picnics at Crater Lake.
Tonight, though, they sway nervously on a balloon littered dance floor. He’s distracted by the glitter in her hair when a purple elephant wearing Lex’s grin floats by holding a blue beehive of cotton candy. She laughs.
She’s breaking their unspoken rules by acknowledging the press of real-world absurdity on their shared subconscious ramblings. He forgives her. He wouldn’t know how not to.
The dream shifts, and they’re floating high above Reeves Dam. He feels her fear. She feels his grief.
This was the moment. Everything that came after pulled them farther apart. Hovering over the curve of the dam, he feels the precipice of time weighing heavily on their spirits and wishes it all away.
Lois, Jimmy, Lex, Lana, Kara... The spider web of suffering extends past the horizon in every direction, and they ache for the innocence lost that day.
When they wake, they’re both in a melancholy mood. Chloe occupies herself with planning out his farm chores while he showers and prepares to shave. The beginnings of thoughts flit across his mind, and he wonders who the shadows between longing and fear belong to.
Four weeks ago, he would have assumed they were Chloe’s without hesitation. He was better at containing his own reaction then.
Now…well, now he gets distracted watching her. Whether she’s picking apart the clues and sliding them into a shape he never would have considered or humming a tune while they watch TV, she captivates him the same way sunrise does.
He sees her every day, but there are moments she takes his breath away.
This is one of them. He’s finished his shower, and is wiping condensation off the mirror he uses to shave when he catches her reflection. It’s a little schizophrenic when she invades his perception of reality like this, but he’s gotten used to it. He hardly ever jumps anymore.
This time, he has no desire to jump. She’s seated on the side of the tub, reporter’s tablet in hand and reviewing yesterday’s interview with the head of neurology at Metropolis General. He can feel her frustration at the obvious dodge when they asked the woman about her prior involvement in Cadmus-funded research. The thrill of the chase is there, too.
She is beautiful, but that’s not what captivates him most. There’s quiet determination in everything she does; loyalty like a mountain and a curiosity that burns.
“Chloe?” He breaks the silence that’s hung between them since waking.
“Yeah?” She’s jotting down ideas and doesn’t look up.
“Why are you friends with me?”
She rocks back a little at that, obviously thrown by the question.
“Where’s this coming from?”
“Just, humor me. Why are you friends with me?”
She looks conflicted, feels it too. “Because…because I don’t want to imagine life without you in it.”
He feels the blush before he sees it light her figment of skin. It was more than she wanted to say, and anything less would have been a lie.
He shares the full measure of his gratitude for her. “Me neither.”
Later that day, Lois is harassing him about the puff piece she tried to dump on his desk that morning. It’s the first time he recognizes words that aren’t his passing his lips.
“Come on Lo, give a guy a break.”
Lois stops cold.
“What did you just say?”
He ignores the shared panic. “Uh, nothing. I haven’t been feeling well all morning. I think I’m going to have to suck it up and take a sick day.”
“You do realize this will be the third in two weeks, don’t you Smallville? They don’t let you keep jobs you can’t manage to get to daily.”
“Oh, please, Lo. It’s not like I’m trying to expense hair band concerts in my first week on the job.”
This time, he literally clamps a hand over his mouth and begins backing away.
“You okay, Smallville? Because if you are I can fix that.” Lois’ is wary.
“Sorry. Like I said, I’m not feeling well. Going home now. Cover for me?” He stumbles over most of the words, but it seems to help his cause because Lois just shoes him out the door with assurances that she’ll pass the message along.
“What the hell?!?!” They both ask when they’re safely ensconced in their…no, his…darkened loft.
He looks up and Chloe’s cross-legged on the couch running her hands through her hair and worrying her lip. He can’t look away and she looks up, confused.
“Clark?”
Yeah, he didn’t even think to hide that one.
“Maybe there’s Red K?” She asks.
There isn’t, but he’d love to find some. He thinks he remembers…
The rush is indescribable and everything is amplified by their shared perceptions. Oh, Christ…
Looking up, he sees familiar black streaks and a wicked grin and he doesn’t hesitate to lean over and capture her lips in a scorching kiss, made hotter by the fact that they can both feel everything.
A nagging corner of his mind warns that something in this isn’t quite right, but the rest of him just couldn’t give a damn when she’s crawling into his lap and writhing against him like that.
In a flash, she’s got her shirt off and his is on its way there. He doesn’t care if it’s his imagination, when their bare chests meet it feels like he’s on fire. He has to have her, again and again. He’s always wanted her this way; over him, under him, screaming his name as she comes again and again.
He has no idea where his pants have gone, but her tiny hand is around him and he’s sobbing her name like a dying man.
She leans in, kissing a trail from his mouth to his neck and worrying his earlobe as she pumps away at him, hard.
Suddenly he’s screaming and crying and cumming so hard he sees stars. It’s never been so good.
When he comes back to himself, she’s boneless and sated in his lap. She regards him with curiously sad eyes, slipping the ring-that-isn’t off his finger and tucking it away in the box of his memory.
“Something’s wrong.” She whispers. He feels the acceptance and it scares him into action. He cleans up as fast as he knows how and speeds them to the fortress.
“Jor-El!” He bellows. “We need your help!”
“What is it, my son?”
“We’re…bleeding together. It’s too much.”
“Be still, by son.”
Light engulfs them.
---
The forbidden door stands before them, rough-hewn wood protecting the memories he’s not ready to share. They go through it together.
It was an enigma. He knew the world he found himself in was nothing more than a simulation created by his father’s AI, yet he can’t shake the uncomfortable certainty.
Chloe was going to marry him.
It wasn’t hard to see. The guy even parted his hair on the same side. And he was obviously Metropolis PD, the kind of hero Clark wasn’t ready to be yet.
Yet.
He felt the pull of it every day, even with Lana.
She looked happy. Proud in a way he hadn’t seen her since before he freed her from a Luthor wine cellar.
He didn’t realize how badly he’d missed that smile, so the pang caught him off guard. He wants to be the man she looks at like that.
But he can’t. He knows he can’t give her what she needs; what she deserves.
It’s like a law of physics - Clark Kent can only break Chloe Sullivan’s heart. They’re a macabre matched set.
She’s everything he needs, so she’s the last thing he wants.
He wishes, sometimes, that he could love her the way he knows she once loved him. Even his father seems in on the joke. But he can’t.
He’s just…wired wrong, or something. All he wants - all he’s ever wanted, really - are the ones he can’t have or the ones he shouldn’t have. Always the ones who hold him back and ground him in the worst ways imaginable.
If he could love Chloe Sullivan the right way, he knows he could be the kind of man she would be proud of. They could save the world together, laugh together, become…more, together.
To confuse matters even more, he’s connected to her in a way he can hardly grasp, much less explain. He can’t bear to be without her for long, and even if he’s not the most observant guy around, her moods often become his moods.
If she’s lonely, so is he. If she’s frightened or frustrated, terrified or overjoyed, it never fails that he’s soon to follow. Even with Lana, he felt it. Especially with Lana.
He should have been floating on cloud nine, living with the girl of his dreams, but he’d never felt more disconnected - out of touch with…everything.
It’s love, but it’s not what she deserves. She deserves to have someone ache for her, pursue her, adore her. She deserves a guy who’ll wander around in a bliss-induced haze for days after their first kiss. Someone who challenges her and sees the million and one thoughts flying behind her twinkling grin.
She deserves a hero, more than anyone he knows.
Just like that, she’s closing the door. It feels like his heart might have gotten stuck in the jamb.
“It’s alright. I understand.” The acceptance is familiar. He hates that.
“No, it’s not.”
She smiles sadly. “It has to be.”
“It doesn’t. You don’t understand. I do love you. I just…I always thought it was wrong.”
“Love can’t be wrong. It is or it isn’t, Clark.”
“Well, this time it is.”
She doesn’t respond, backing away instead. He follows without hesitation.
“It is. It always will be.”
The world pales to white before he can reach her.
---
The brightness fades and his soul is empty. He’s never felt so alone.
Clark Kent wakes to the purest form of grief he has ever experienced. She’s gone, and it feels like the light went out of the world.
It takes a second to realize the groan he hears isn’t his own.
“Clark?”
“Chloe? Oh, my God, Chloe.” It’s a prayer and a hymn of thanks and he’s gathered her into his arms in an awkward hug before he fully registers her nakedness.
She sputters, and he could care less.
“Clark!” She screeches. “Clark, where are my… Oh, my God!”
He can’t help the laughter that bubbles up. The last month has been a roller coaster and he just found out the woman he loves most in the world is alive and well and…well, naked. It’s absurd and they look ridiculous and he can’t care about anything more than her.
The next logical step is definitely kissing. She seems to disagree, if the slapping is any indication.
That’s okay. There’s time enough.
---
End
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Remember to the feed the writer.