Genesis
By Tracy (biancaheart@yahoo.com)
Rating: PG-13
Category: Alternate Episode- Instead of "Accelerate"
Spoilers: Up to "Accelerate"
Summary: Whitney Fordman's back from the dead…Or is he?
Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville. If I did, Whitney would not be dead. And since in Smallville-land, he's six feet under, I'm not making a cent off of doing this. So don't sue. Please.
Author's Note: I hated
"Accelerate". What had an interesting
premise was shoddily done. If Emily
died when she was 10, then why didn't Clark or Pete remember her? Smallville is not that big of a town, and if
they'd known Lana forever, they would have had some knowledge of Emily…It
wouldn't be this humungous and amazing shock.
I also hate how they're giving Chloe the bad end of the stick. Making her evil won't make anyone like her
less and Lana more. It's bad
writing/characterizations. So I'm
trying to give Chloe a little bit of positive light in this story.
This story was born out of the fact that while watching "Accelerate", I kept on going…"This would be so much cooler if they used Whitney instead." And since the PTB aren't using this idea, I'm jumping on it.
So here's the story.
Feedback makes me happy and forces my muse to write more of this story, and faster.
Craig Anderson hated working retail.
But retail was his life- 40 hours a week, 5 days a week. 2 friggin days off, minimum pay. 40 hours dealing with shoes. Dress shoes, sport shoes, blue shoes, red shoes. He was only 19 years old and he felt like Al Bundy.
Life wasn't supposed to be this way.
He was supposed to be at Kansas State.
Like last year, schmoozing with the cheerleaders, being glorified by the
school. Being adored. Being drafted and given a hefty check.
Not here in Smallville, Kansas, the hellhole he'd been born in.
The hellhole he'd escaped for the Mecca of Kansas State.
Something he still felt bad about. When
he took the time to think about it.
He screwed over his best friend to go to Kansas State. Craig had been an okay football player- but
he was second string at Smallville High.
Second String to Whitney Fordman, the best athlete the town had seen
since the legendary Bucky O'Grady.
Boyfriend of the town's sweetheart, Lana Lang. And Craig's best friend.
And by having his Dad place one phone call, he ruined Whitney's dreams.
The scholarship that Whitney had been counting on went to Craig instead.
Whitney went off to war.
Craig went off to be big man on campus.
Craig blew out his knee in the Homecoming game. Bye Bye Scholarship, Bye Bye Freedom.
Hello, Smallville. Mrs. Fordman gave
him a job in the shoes department. It
wasn't much, but this wasn't exactly the land of opportunity.
And then the telegram. Whit went missing in action. Dumb, stupid guy to go off and get himself killed? Like the military was his only way out? There was such a thing as student loans, or jobs in the merchant marine, or hell, plenty of things that got you out of this stupid town and didn't involve getting killed.
Then Whitney was back, but it wasn't Whitney. It had been that little freakazoid Tina Greer, that girl who used to idolize Lana and tried to get HIM to ask her to his prom Junior year. Uh, yeah, no. What a little freak. What she put Mrs. Fordman through…it was hell. How dare she pretend to be Whitney, when Whitney was…dead?
His best friend was dead.
And it was all his fault.
If he hadn't freaking interfered, Whitney would be alive, and off at Kansas
State. Mrs. Fordman would be somewhat
stable- instead of the shattered, haunted, person that took inventory every
week. And maybe he wouldn't be here,
setting up the new clearance shoe display.
But he was working for the man. Got overtime to stay and set up this display. Gotta get the dough. Maybe one day he'd work himself up to a manager position.
"I'm leaving,
Dan." Craig called to the night
security guard. "See ya later."
Dan waved in response, his balding head already buried in the latest issue of
PEOPLE.
Craig pulled out his car keys and looked up at the sky. Pretty night. Lots of stars. He could probably leave the hood down tonight. Where was his car? Oh right, he parked behind the Talon. Maybe he'd stop in for a cup of coffee.
"Craig?" called a voice from a shadow.
His head shot up. "Who in the hell said that?"
"You don't know me?" A figure stepped from the shadows. "Some short term memory you've got. You should really have that checked out."
Craig felt his muscles tense. It couldn't be. There was no freaking way. This was….
His keys fell to the sidewalk, but he didn't stoop to get them.
He ran, ran faster than he'd ever run in any football game. Faster than he'd ever run in his entire
life. And he didn't stop till he
reached the Talon. The safe, familiar,
Talon.
And then he collapsed.
***
Chloe Sullivan smirked as she approached the Torch office.
99% of Clark Kent belonged to Lana Lang.
She was the one he wanted to date.
She was the one he dreamed about, she was the one he wanted to
kiss. Hell, given the chance he'd
probably marry Lana, and they'd breed very beautiful but very annoying little
Lana-lings. But 1% of Clark Kent
belonged to Chloe. Whenever he wanted
news, wanted some sort of explanation or answer for this crazy town, he came to
her. Chloe owned Clark's nose for
news. And sure, when he got the news,
he'd go running the other way, indulging his Mighty Mouse complex. She got the running nose, Lana got the rest
of the hunk. How typical.
"You know, Clark, I could have you arrested for loitering."
Clark shifted from foot to foot. "Have you talked to Lana?"
Chloe sighed and pushed the office door open. "In general, or lately?"
"Lately…last night?"
"Nah. Lana stayed late at the Talon,
and I was asleep before she got home. I
have an English test this morning, and I do the best when I get sleep. And she
wasn't up when I left this morning."
Chloe switched on the Mac and went over to the coffee maker and plugged
it in. She got out the ingredients,
only to find out the coffee can was empty.
"I swear, I'm gonna kill Pete.
The best part of waking up is supposed to Folgers in your cup. If I fail my test, It's all his fault."
"So you didn't talk to Lana?"
Chloe sighed and sat down at the computer. "Do you think I could break into the teacher's lounge? They've gotta have some sort of java in there."
"Chloe…"
"News flash, Clark. I. Did. Not. Talk. To. Lana. Now are we done with the horribly awkward moment, or do you feel the need to torture me with more wonderful Lana insights?"
He pulled up a chair and sat beside Chloe. "Craig Anderson came into the Talon last night."
"Big shocker. Locals come into the Talon. Customers, Clark. The goal of the Talon is to turn a profit…"
Clark cut Chloe's words off bluntly. "I
know that. But it was weird. Craig ran into the Talon, and then
collapsed."
"Strange. Meteor induced?" Chloe checked on the icon to check her
email.
"I don't think so…Chloe, when he came to…he said that he saw Whitney."
Chloe's jaw dropped. "Whitney-Mr.-Marine-Save-The-Day-Dying-For-My-Country-Fordman?"
"One in the same."
"Well, did you go see if he was there? Was it him? Or is Tina back?" Chloe's reporter senses went nuts. "What did you find out? How did Lana take it? Is she okay?"
"Lana and I walked over there, but nobody was there…we found Craig's keys,
though. So I don't know, but Tina's
dead, Chloe. I saw her die. And the military could be wrong…but what if
it isn't?" Clark ran his fingers
through his hair. "Lana was pretty
shook up, and I don't know how's she's doing, that's why I was asking you."
"Sorry." Chloe turned back to the
computer. Double clicking with speed
seemingly faster than the speed of light, she opened a couple of files,
pressing the familiar PRINT button.
"I'm not Super Woman, you know?
Just the best damn reporter the world's ever seen."
She walked over to the printer and retrieved the papers. She handed each set to Clark. "Here's what I have on Whitney and his
disappearance-slash-death. This is what
I've got on Tina, and this stack's about Craig." She walked over to the closet and pulled out a digital
camera.
"Take this. If you see the
Whitney-thing, you better get a picture."
Clark nodded. "Will do."
The school bell rang, signaling that 1st period would begin soon.
"Ugh." Chloe groaned. "I've gotta go meet my terrible fate."
"Huh?"
"My English test."
"But Chloe, you're awesome at English."
"A test at eight in the morning without coffee? It's cruel and unusual punishment."
***
When most people got a car for their sixteenth birthday, he got a horse.
To most of his friends, that had been such a rip-off. Horses were for losers.
But not Heisman.
His Dad's obsession with his future football career showed even then. Gotta be the best. Gotta go, gotta go accomplish things. Be the best that you can be…no wait, that was the army.
Everything was so confusing. All
muddled in his brain. It didn't make
sense. Mom said he had a head injury,
and that's why he couldn't remember.
Why he didn't remember actually getting Heisman, his sixteenth birthday,
or any birthday, for that matter. He
didn't even recognize his own face in the mirror- or that girl who was supposed
to be his girlfriend, or the boy who was his best friend…
His best friend ran from him.
He just wanted to talk.
"Hey, how's it going? Do you remember
me? Who am I?"
Craig's short-term memory was even worse…even worse than his whole memory.
The horse seemed to know him. It took the sugar cube from him like he'd known him for years. It had known him for years. It was his horse.
"That's a good boy." Whitney said, stroking the horse's mane. "Did you miss me?"
He heard a crash.
She was standing there. The girl from
the picture. The girl that Mom said
loved him. What was her name? Why did she look so shocked? What was wrong with everyone? He was the one with the friggin head
injury."
"Whitney." She said in a hushed voice. "Is that you? It's true…"
"I….Uh,……." What was her name? Why was she looking at him like that? He was scared. Really scared.
He turned and ran, not pausing when he heard the girl call after him again,
louder this time.
***
"I'm not sure this is such a great idea." Craig muttered. "She's not going to take this well."
"Maybe she knows what's going on, though." Clark reasoned. "She is his mother."
"And she's been pretty, well, looney-tuney since, well you know. Trust me, I work for her."
"We aren't going to find out anything just standing here." Lana groaned. She walked up and knocked on the door. This house had been her second home, back when they were
dating…she wouldn't be afraid…
"Mrs. Fordman." Lana smiled politely, but her knees were shaking. Why was it so hard to talk to your dead-ex-boyfriend's mother? "Can we come in and talk to you?"
"Lana. Craig. Clark. Why, what a surprise. Come on in." She ushered the group inside. "Would you like some lemonade? Or a cookie?"
"No thanks." They said in unison as
they walked into the living room.
The living had completely transformed since the last time she'd been in
there. It made Lana want to
shiver. Whitney. His picture was all over the room- pictures
of him from elementary school to the Homecoming game last year. Many of the pictures had her or Craig in
them as well. It was like some sort of
weird….Whitney shrine.
"Mrs. Fordman?" Lana said, finding her voice. Craig was still staring at the walls in a horrified sense of awe, and Clark hadn't seen Whitney.
"Call me Betty. We're better friends
than that, now aren't we Lana? What's
troubling you, dear?"
"Well…um, Betty…this is gonna sound really strange, but I think I saw Whitney."
Mrs. Fordman's calm demeanor turned dark. "What sort of sick joke is this? You should know as well as anyone, Lana, that somebody pretended to be my baby. They tortured me, wearing my baby's face. My baby is dead, Lana."
"I know…I just…"
"I saw him, too, Mrs. Fordman." Craig said softly. "In front of the store two nights ago. It's just, well…we're afraid that whoever was pretending to be Whitney before is back. And we didn't want you to get hurt."
"That's sweet of you, Craig. Looking out for the lonely widow, are you?" She looked up at the clock on wall. "Oh dear. It's almost time for my pottery class….us ladies with no one to take care of have to find something to pass the time. It's been nice having you here, though…feel free to come back, all of you. I hate to be a rude hostess, but I really must be going."
When they got out of the house, the teenagers turned to one another.
"Anybody else creeped out?" Clark
shuddered.
"She's changed…a lot." Lana nodded.
"Come on, you two. Let's go." Craig said, fumbling for his car keys. "If you'd had the kind of year she's had,
you'd be whacked out too."
***
She shut the door. Waited until she saw their car pull away. And then she screamed.
"Whitney!"
He came running down the stairs, clad in his Smallville High Gym shirt.
"Yeah Mom?"
"Come here." She ordered.
He walked over in front of her. He
towered over his mother, yet she was able to take the boy in one swing,
knocking him to the ground.
"What did you do?"
"I…I….I didn't do anything."
"Lana and Craig just visited…Lana brought her little lap dog, too. They said
that they saw you. Saw you! I specifically told you to stay in this
house! Now you've gone and ruined
everything!"
Tears poured down his face. "Mom, I just wanted to go and find my memories. I thought if I could just…"
"I have had a year of hell, Whitney Ellsworth Fordman. And you've just made it worse. I'll teach you not to disobey your mother!"
She swung at him again, and everything was dark.
***
"Dude, Clark, couldn't this have waited until after the freak monsoon?" Pete pulled his raincoat closer to his body. "You need an ark to wade through this shit."
"The sooner we come here, the sooner we can make sure Whitney isn't a zombie."
"And if he is, what are we gonna do?
Yell, Hello, Mr. Killer Zombie, Come Eat My Brains?"
"I doubt he'd find much in your case, Pete."
Clark laughed as Pete stumbled over a headstone.
Pete read the name. "I swear,
Emily…Dinsmore, whoever that is, her marker just jumped out in my path."
"Yeah. Right."
"Here we go." Clark announced. "Whitney Ellsworth Fordman."
"That would be him." Pete affirmed.
Clark used his x-ray vision to peer down into the coffin. The bones were there.
"It hasn't been touched." He breathed.
"Time to call Mulder and Scully." Pete shivered.
***
Chloe, Pete, Clark, and Lana were gathered in the Torch office.
"Tina Greer was cremated. So unless she's got the meteor given power of being able to regenerate her body, this isn't her." Chloe said, plunking herself down on the desk.
"So it isn't him, and it's not Tina."
Lana listed off. "That means…"
"It's a ghost." Pete said. "He's doomed to wander the Earth because the Smallville High teams suck so much this year."
His joke got no response.
"I thought it was funny."
"It was crude, Pete. Get over it. The way I see it, we've gotta investigate this thing."
"How so?" Clark said. "I mean, we can't really do too much with the Internet."
"News Flash to Clark Kent." Chloe quipped. "Research happens outside of computers. Some times you've gotta go out the old fashioned way, and get the story." She turned to the rest of her audience. "Now the way I see it, we've gotta approach this with a three pronged attack. Lana, Clark…you need to go back to the Fordman's house. There's gotta be something there."
"Like what?"
"If we knew, Clark, we wouldn't have to investigate any more." She sighed. "I'm gonna go out and look for Whitney sightings. See if I can find him…it, whatever….And Pete…"
"You rang?"
"You'll stay here. Home base."
"By myself? At night? Here?"
"Oh don't whine." Chloe smiled. "It's only a little bit haunted."
To Be Continued…