Chlark Fanfic: Crisis, Chapter 10

[babydee1]

Meant to have this up much earlier; sorry for the wait!

Enjoy.  Feedback rocks my world, can you tell? :-)
 

 

Title:              Crisis

Author:          BabyDee
Pairing:          Chlark/Kaloe

Rating:           NC-17 (this chapter PG-13)

Warnings:     Some bad language

Timeline:      Season 2-3 (Exodus – Exile; Clark’s RedK Summer)

Disclaimer:   All characters belong to the CW & DC comics. 

Summary:     A violent encounter between Chloe and Clark threatens to destroy their friendship forever.

Feedback:      …is love. J

 

 

Read previous chapter here.

Read story from the beginning here.

 

 

 

Chapter 10

 

 

At the Sheriff’s words, Clark flushed guiltily and stiffened, but Chloe – as always – wasn’t fazed.

 

“We’re investigative journalists in the making, Sheriff,” Chloe replied smoothly.  “We make it our business to visit crime scenes, and be in the right place at the right time to get that all-important scoop.  It’s how we learn.”

 

“I see,” the Sheriff said thoughtfully.  “That means you must be fairly familiar with the smell of gunshot residue, yes?” 

 

Chloe’s eyes flickered a little, but she recovered from the reflex quickly.  “No, I can’t say that I am, actually.” 

 

“It’s somewhat like a match being struck, only a little more…metallic,” the Sheriff explained with a crafty smile, sniffing the air experimentally.  “Kinda like the smell in the air right now.” 

 

Chloe snorted and managed to stifled a snicker.  “Pardon me for being rude, Sheriff, but if you think a gun was fired in this room? Then you’re imagining things.” 

 

Clark held his breath as the suspicious Sheriff stiffened at Chloe’s not-so-thinly veiled insult.  If there was anything Nancy Adams hated, it was being told she’d gotten it wrong.

 

“Mind if I take a look around?” the older woman said, glancing left and right with a slow, piercing gaze.  

 

“D’you have a warrant for that?” Chloe shot back sweetly. 

 

The Sheriff gave a wintry smile.  “Something to hide, Miss Sullivan?”

 

Clark gazed from one woman to the other, terrified yet suitably impressed by their verbal sparring.  If it had been him in Sheriff Nancy Adams’s crosshairs instead of Chloe, he’d have crumpled and folded like a fragile origami by now.

 

Chloe shrugged and stepped forward with upturned, open palms.  “Not at all.  Be my guest.”  Almost imperceptibly, her outstretched foot settled over the flattened bullet, hiding it from sight.

 

Clark exhaled softly, letting out the breath he’d been holding for the last two minutes.  In all the commotion, he’d completely forgotten about the hard evidence sitting on the floor in plain sight of everyone.

 

Nice one, Chloe.

 

Sheriff Adams and her accompanying officers searched the small office for clues, but found nothing.  Clark drummed his fingers on his upper arms, trying to stop his forehead from breaking out in a sweat as Chloe thrust her hands into her pockets and swayed softly from side to side as if bored.  How she could remain so calm with a gun in her hand, a bullet underfoot and a small squad of cops milling around the Torch like bees in a honeypot was completely beyond Clark’s realm of understanding. 

 

After about ten minutes of solid searching with no results, the Sheriff finally called off the search. 

 

“Looks like there’s nothing to find,” the Sheriff said reluctantly to the other two officers, who appeared to be relieved in contrast.

 

“Hate to say ‘I told you so,’ Sheriff,” Chloe said with a triumphant smirk. 

 

Sheriff Nancy Adams was not amused.  She stalked towards them with narrowed eyes and stared up at Clark, who was now standing beside Chloe. 

 

“I’ll be watching you,” the Sheriff said sternly, shifting her gaze to Chloe.  “Both of you.”  

 

Chloe flashed a seemingly innocent smile and waved as the older woman turned and left, taking her officers with her. 

 

“Well, that was a complete and utter waste of my time,” Chloe said dryly.

 

“Speaking of time,” boomed Coach Brodie, “it’s time you packed up here tonight, kids.”

 

Chloe gaped in dismay.  “But I was planning to pull an all-nighter, Coach; I have to get the next issue to the printers before close of play tomorrow!” Chloe wailed.  “I’ll lock up when I’m done, I promise, but please let me stay; just for tonight, Coach…please?”

 

It usually worked.  Chloe hardly ever encountered any problems getting after‑hours permission from anyone on the School Board, but on this occasion, Coach Brodie was having none of her wheedling.

 

“It’s far too early in the semester for you to start overachieving, Sullivan,” he said reproachfully.  “Whatever it is, it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” 

 

Chloe pouted and folded her arms mutinously.  “Party pooper.”

 

Brodie grinned.  “You’re welcome.  Now go home, both of you.  I’ll wait while you lock up before heading back to the football field.” 

 

Chloe’s shoulders slumped.  “Fine,” she said glumly.  “Clark, could you help get my coat, please?  I need to tie my shoelace.”  She bent and fiddled with the lace of her army boots, surreptitiously picking up the bullet at the same time.     

 

A few minutes later they stepped into the hall and locked The Torch office under Coach Brodie’s watchful eye, and then followed him out of the building which he locked securely. 

 

“Goodnight Sullivan, Kent.”  He jogged off in the direction of the football field, disappearing from view. 

 

Clark finally heaved a huge sigh of relief and grinned down at Chloe.  “We did it!” he said excitedly.  “You were amazing, Chloe.  As usual.”

 

Chloe just shrugged and stared hard at the Torch window.  “I’ve got a ton of stuff to do tomorrow…”

 

“I could get you back in there, if you want,” he offered. 

 

Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits and she shook her head, stepping away from him. 

 

“No thanks,” she said flatly, clenching her fists in her coat pockets, tightening her grip on both her pistol and the lead box with the kryptonite rock in it.

 

Clark closed his eyes as he was jerked roughly back to the present.  In the wake of the Sheriff’s visit, he had forgotten all about the outstanding issues between them.

 

He swallowed.  “Listen, I…I still have so much more to tell you -”

 

“Like Coach Brodie said, it’ll wait until tomorrow,” she said curtly.  “Don’t worry – you won’t wake up to a badge being flashed in your face just yet, much as I think you ought to.” 

 

“Thank you,” he said softly.  “Thank you for giving me a chance, Chloe.  God knows I don’t deserve one after what I did.”

 

“No, Clark,” she agreed shortly.  “You don’t.” 

 

He stood beside her in awkward silence for several seconds. 

 

“Um…where are you parked?” he eventually asked, looking around for her car. 

 

“I didn’t drive in today.”

 

“Oh.  Well, it’s late; would you like me to walk you -”

 

“No.”

 

He swallowed.  “Okay.  I’ll see you tomorrow; we’ll talk more then.” 

 

Chloe didn’t answer.  She turned on her heel and walked stiffly down the dark road with her hands deep in her pockets, no doubt clutching her objects of solace. 

 

Clark stood watching her retreating back as she disappeared down the road.  He waited until she was almost out of his sight and presumably out of earshot before following her at a safe distance, not stopping until she’d let herself into the house she shared with her father. 

 

He glanced up as her bedroom light went on, and sighed deeply, his shoulders heaving as he exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. 

 

What a day.  It had taken every ounce of nerve he’d possessed to approach her in the Torch that afternoon, and he’d been grateful that Pete had been there as an inadvertent buffer zone.  But seeing her tremble and flee within seconds of his appearance had shattered his heart into tiny little pieces, and he was forced to accept the ugly truth.  

 

Chloe was broken; a fragmented, hollowed out shell of the person she’d once been.  As painful as her harsh words had been to him earlier, she had been right; with his dastardly act, he’d taken more from her than he could have ever thought possible.  It really was a miracle that after what he’d put her through, she was still willing to hear whatever incredible, far-fetched explanation he might have for his despicable behaviour. 

 

Chloe’s bedroom light went off, and Clark gave a satisfied sigh.  Slowly he turned and started making his way down the road towards the Farm, where no doubt his parents were anxiously waiting for a progress report on the day’s dealings. 

 

For now, he was just relieved that the hardest part – the initial confrontation – was over.  The next hurdle would be trying to explain why; difficult to be sure, since despite his father’s insistence on total honestly, Clark wasn’t sure how telling Chloe the absolute truth was going to help her to heal.  If anything, it was more than likely they’d be wedged apart forever, their once tender friendship scarred and completely irreparable. 

 

But he wouldn’t worry about that right now.  His dad always said that tomorrow’s worries would take care of themselves.  He’d tackle the problems as and when they came, and pray for a healing outcome for both of them.

 

***

 

Chloe watched stealthily through a crack in the curtain as Clark headed down the road and turned the corner.  As soon as he was out of sight, she switched her bedroom light back on and folded her arms, deep in thought.

 

It didn’t make any sense.  She couldn’t reconcile the Clark before her today with the wild-eyed reprobate she’d met in Metropolis.  She just couldn’t.

 

A lot of things had been made clear this evening.  As derisive and disbelieving as she’d been when he’d told her, Clark’s revelation of his true origins had made so many things clear.  All those times she’d been in danger and had come perilously close to death, only to escape in some miraculous way…it had to have been Clark saving her all along, silently protecting her and not stopping for so much as a ‘thank-you.’ 

 

And yet, he’d raped her?  Chloe shook her head, frowning deeply.  It just didn’t gel. Even tonight, he’d followed her home to make sure she was safe, despite the fact that she was packing the one substance in the world that could kill him.  Which brought her back to the revelation that she was still reeling from.

 

An alien.  Clark, the mild-mannered son of Jonathan and Martha Kent, someone who’d been her best friend for years…was a super-powered alien.  As far-fetched as it seemed, it suddenly solved no less than ninety percent of the unexplained articles on her Wall of Weird – and, she realised with a short laugh, probably 99.9% of the unsolved cases in Sheriff Adams’s filing cabinet.

 

It was a huge secret he’d shared with her.  And yet, she had no doubt that if she insisted on turning him in to the authorities, he’d go to jail for what he did, superpowers or no superpowers. 

 

Chloe’s frown deepened as she tapped her foot on the floor repeatedly.  He’d been about to say something in the Torch when they’d been interrupted, something important; something that might possibly explain why he had been such a different person in Metropolis.  In light of the trust he’d put in her by not only telling her his secret but also telling her how to protect herself from him, she was willing to hold off full judgement until she had the full story.  This was Smallville, after all; people had been known to act well out of character whilst under some strange and weird influences. 

 

But even so, Clark’s entire demeanour screamed ‘guilty’ to her, and at no point had he raised any real sort of defence. It was puzzling, to say the least.  Yes, he had a guilt complex the size of Texas, but nobody would hold up their hands and admit to being a rapist if there was indeed a genuine way to explain the situation.

 

Running a hand through her hair, she walked over to her desk and switched on the computer.  She had an all-nighter to pull, one that had nothing to do with any of the articles going into the next edition of the school paper.

 

As soon as the system powered up and took her to her Google homepage, Chloe typed the words ‘Virgil Swann’ and ‘Krypton’ into the search bar.  A slew of results appeared in seconds, several of which had the word ‘CLASSIFIED’ next to them.

 

Chloe grimaced and cracked her knuckles before setting them back on the keyboard, her fingers flying over the keys in earnest.

 

It was going to be a long, long night. 

 
***

Chapter 11…