Disclaimer: Okay, I don't own Superman, Smallville, Clark Kent (or Tom
Welling, though that would be great…(), or any of the characters. I am
just borrowing them in a desperate attempt to be a writer, and to occupy
myself before my classes start/during class. I am not making any money
from this story. Though that would be great.
Author's Note: This story is a Clark/Chloe shipper story. Personally, I think that either outcome would be good- Chloe/Clark -OR- Clark/Lana. Thanks to my bestest buddy Luxorien for reading this and providing support and criticism…and for basically giving me a kick and telling me that I should write a Smallville fanfic already. I need feedback in order to continue the story, because my free time is valuable, and if y'all don't like it, I don't need to waste my time… Have fun!! Also note: ** denotes thoughts. This story is a slight Alternate Universe, because Clark has developed the power of flight, something he hasn't achieved on the show.
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Chapter 1
**Hmm, ** thought Chloe Sullivan as she peered down the main hall of Smallville High, **I wonder where Clark and Pete are?** It wasn't like she was looking for Clark, oh no, she just- wanted to talk to him about that article for the Torch that he was writing. He was doing a front page article, and she wanted to make sure that he got it letter perfect. On topic, nothing that that tyrant Kwan could object to. The general sentiment **grrrr** crossed her mind at the thought of the principal's name. Yes- she, Chloe Sullivan, was mentally growling at the principal.
Her train of thought derailed and piled up in a heap when she saw the object of her musings, one said Clark Kent, six foot four of gorgeous, completely drool-worthy male. His dark hair tumbled over his forehead as usual, and Chloe had to fight the urge to reach up and brush it back, as she always did, as he walked up, fighting his way through the crowded halls.
"Hey Chlo, what's up?" asked Clark, flashing his brilliant smile at her, in the process making her knees weak and causing her train of thought to once again derail.
"Ah, nothing. I was just wondering if you had the draft of that article you're writing for me, so I can look over it and make sure you're on the right track," said Chloe in her normal chipper self, her lust for her friend carefully hidden, as it had been since…well, puberty. Since she had realized that her best friend was a guy, and a hot guy at that…she was jerked back to reality when she realized that Clark had just asked her a question.
"I'm sorry, what did you say? I was spacing a little," she said with a smile.
"I was asking you how long you wanted the article, because I could write a lot more, but if you want it to be short, I can do that too" replied Clark with a little frown. "Are you okay? You seem a little more out of it than usual."
"I'm fine, I'm fine," she replied breezily as she walked away toward her Algebra class, "So, I'll see you in the Torch office after school, article in hand, right?"
"Right," replied Clark, walking in the other direction to English.
**Oh man. He is so cute,** she thought wistfully as she walked through the crowded halls. Her shoulders slumped as she continued on the journey in her mind that inevitably brought her to, **But of course, me, his best friend, is the furthest person from his mind when he thinks of girlfriend material. He looks at me, and it's normal old Chloe, good friend. It's almost like he completely overlooks the fact that I am a girl. I bet he doesn't even think of me as a girl- I'm probably just Chloe. Plain old Chloe… Ohhh, my head hurts worse than ever today…**
These depressing thoughts continued all day until after school when she headed for the Torch office. Her shoulders straightened and her walk became bouncier as she headed toward the two things she valued most in her life: Clark Kent and the Torch. As she walked into the office, she got a delicious view of Clark from behind, because he was gazing at the Wall of Weird, his back to the door. She briefly considered sneaking up behind him and grabbing him, and then considered for a great deal more time what it would be like to kiss him, and had decided to just run up and jump on his back- ** I really have to watch these dangerous playful moods I've gotten into lately** - when Clark turned around to greet her, stopping her in mid- preparation to launch herself.
"Hey," she greeted him in a normal tone of voice, nothing in her bearing to indicate that she had been about to do something monumentally stupid. "So, do you have that article, Mr. Kent? The presses have to start rolling by five, you know."
He smiled and said, "Why, yes ma'am, I do have the article, but you never answered my question from before." He raised his eyebrow at her quizzically.
She looked up at him, obviously confused. "Question? Which question was that?"
He gave her a worried look and said slowly, "The question about the length of my article. I asked you this morning if you wanted it to be short, or whether there was room for it to be long. Are you sure you're okay, Chlo? You never miss anything when it comes to the Torch, and this is pretty important- it's the front page, for goodness' sakes."
She blinked, and then said, "Yes, Clark, I'm fine. Reall-" suddenly, her eyes widened and she slumped, Clark barely managing to catch her, even with his super reflexes.
"Chloe? Chlo, wake up!!" Clark said urgently, lightly stroking the side of her face with one finger as he had when they were children at their sleepovers- he would rub the side of her face to wake her up in the middle of the night, so they could go and raid the refrigerator. Of course, they were only five or six at the time, but Clark still remembered every detail, from the scary stories late at night to the movies that Mr. Sullivan would rent for them. But now, as he suddenly snapped out of his reminiscing, remembering his friend, Clark didn't know what to do- Chloe wasn't waking up, and Pete wouldn't be stopping by because he had football practice. And Lana was off doing something with the Talon… So, he quickly decided, the best thing would be to take her to Dr. Losch's office. It was the nearest place he could think of, and the nearest hospital was in Metropolis- too far away, even with his super speed- Clark was seriously starting to feel worried. His insides were tied in a tight, heavy knot because Chloe, his best friend, wasn't waking up, and she had been out for what felt like an eternity now. He remembered hearing something about a normal fainting spell only lasting a minute at the most, and it had been more than a minute.
So, with something to do besides just stand there with Chloe deadweight in his arms, he started off to Dr. Losch's office, worry clearly written on his face.
Chapter 2
Clark looked down at Chloe as he sped to Dr. Losch's office. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, was drowning in these feelings that he had no name for, didn't know how to deal with. Chloe, his Chloe, was deadweight in his arms. She wasn't moving, and she was pale as death…He felt lost. For as long as he could remember his time on this planet, she had been there, a constant outgoing blonde fixture in his life. She helped him keep what little sense of normality he possessed. Now, he was the one that had to keep her on the right track…alive and healthy.
As he approached the doctor's office, he slowed to a normal speed run. He entered the waiting room and glanced around at the sterile, white walls, fighting to keep the panic from his voice as he called for the doctor. Dr. Losch was a man of medium height, with a salt- and- pepper hair and beard and small glasses. He came hurrying out to see what the commotion was, and immediately started examining Chloe even as he instructed Clark to bring her into the nearest examining room. After placing her on the table with infinite care, he stood back and started to pace behind the doctor. 1…2…3…4…turn…1…2… 3…4…turn… He spun quickly as Dr Losch straightened up from Chloe's form.
"It looks as if your girlfriend here is in a coma. Could you tell me about how she has been the last few days? Has she been tired, complaining of headaches, forgetful, anything? I need to know all that I can," said the doctor to Clark in a grave voice.
"Um, well, she was really forgetful today. She forgot about the question she asked me about my article for the Torch, and she never forgets anything to do with the Torch. She was complaining of a really bad headache the other day. It was so bad, actually, that she went home and I had to run the presses for the next day's issue, and there's a running joke that nothing can keep Chlo from the Torch, short of a meteor shower," Clark babbled to the doctor, his thoughts unconnected and rushing out in an uncontrollable torrent. "And, she's not my girlfriend, she's my best friend, and my lifeline…" Clark stopped, finally at a loss for words, the lump in his throat making it difficult for him to breathe.
The doctor nodded knowingly, then said, "Well, she needs to be taken to Metropolis general, where they can monitor her condition and figure out exactly what's wrong. Do you know how I can get in touch with her parents?"
"Her dad. He works at the LuthorCorp plant, and I have the number here somewhere…" Clark fumbled around with all of the junk he carried in the pockets of his jeans, then handing the doctor the small hot pink scrap of paper, finally seeing Mr. Sullivan's reasoning in giving it to him. In case something like this ever happened.
"Well, I called an ambulance, and they should be here in a few minutes to take your friend here. I'm going to go call her father-"
"I'm going with her," said Clark, determination evident in his tone and eyes. "I'm not going to leave her alone."
The doctor again nodded. "Of course, son. Stay with her, and call me if she changes in condition at all." Seeing Clark's nod, he turned and left the room.
The ride in the ambulance to Metropolis General was hellish and long. Clark sat as close to Chloe as he could manage, holding on to her hand tightly, as if it were his lifeline. Which it was… as irrational as he knew it was, he couldn't help but have the feeling that he was keeping her alive by holding on to that hand, and if he let go he would lose her forever. When they finally arrived, he didn't let go of that hand until a nurse firmly told him that he had to stay out in the waiting area while they assessed her situation. He relented eventually, seeing the steel in the nurse's eyes and knowing that he needed to give the doctors room to work. But before he let go, he leaned down and, giving her a kiss on the forehead, told her that he would be right outside waiting for his first opportunity to come back to her. He thought he saw compassion in the nurse's eyes as she showed him where to wait.
He sat in the hard uncomfortable chairs of the waiting area for an hour before Mr. Sullivan showed up- understandable, since Smallville was about forty five minutes away at normal speeds. "How is she?" He asked worriedly as Clark rose to greet him.
"I don't know. No one has told me anything yet," replied Clark, following Chloe's dad as he headed to the reception desk.
"Hello? My name is Gabe Sullivan, my daughter Chloe came here about an hour ago from Smallville. Is there any word on her?"
"Oh, yes," replied the nurse, "I'll go get the doctor so he can talk to you."
"Thank you, ma'am."
The nurse came out a couple of minutes later, saying, "Mr. Sullivan, if you would come this way, the doctor will be able to see you in a few minutes. Please sit down and make yourself comfortable." She ushered he and Clark into a small room with a desk and a few overstuffed chairs in it, then left quietly.
The doctor came in a few minutes later, a tall skinny man with dark brown hair and eyes to match. He set his clipboard and folder onto the desk, then looked up at the anxiously awaiting Gabe Sullivan and Clark. "Hello," he said, in a deep, soft voice, "My name is Dr. Hall, and I looked at Chloe. We checked her vitals, and she appears to be normal, except for a bit of elevated brain activity and the fact that she is in a coma. We don't know exactly what is wrong with her, because the CAT scan didn't show anything, nor did the x-rays we did of her head to see if she had a tumor, or had perhaps fractured her skull in some manner. Simply, there is no logical explanation for why Chloe is in the state she's in. And, seeing that, we don't know what the possibilities of her waking up soon are. We don't even know if she will wake up at all. I'm very sorry gentlemen," he said, and, seeing Clark's expectant expression, with a slight knowing smile said, "She's in room 413, right down the hall. I need to talk with Mr. Sullivan, so you can go and see her if you would like."
Clark was out of the room and at Chloe's bedside in a flash. She was in a small room by herself, a quiet and dark room- not Chloe-esque at all. She would want a bright and vibrant room, so much like herself… when he caught sight of Chloe, he was brought to a stumbling halt. She was pale as death still, and hooked up to a bazillion wires and needles, the heart monitor beside her bed beeping placidly. Even though it was only a twin sized bed, she looked tiny in its huge impersonal embrace. Her arms lay on the cover, as if she were resting.
**She looks dead** was the only thought that Clark could hear, even though thousands of fragments swirled through his brain. Not knowing what to do, he dropped, stunned, into a chair beside her bed and picked up her hand. "Oh, Chlo," he whispered, "You can't leave me. You have to fight whatever put you into this. Who will be editor for the Torch? Lana is okay, but she can't run the computers like you can. And all of the machines in the office hate me, as you well know. And Pete, I don't know what Pete would do. He would always be late turning in his articles if you didn't keep on him about them.
"And Chlo, who is going to stargaze with me on my birthday every year if you go? It is something we have been doing for years, almost since I came here…I never got to tell you my secret. I never got to fly you way up, so you could see how beautiful Smallville really is. At night, all lit up, it looks like a gem in the middle of a bunch of coal…and from way high up, the stars are clearer- I go up there every once in a while to look for my home planet, wonder where I came from. Yep, me, your best friend- well, I'm not from around here. Remember that meteor shower that killed Lana's parents? Well, I came with that meteor shower- that's why it's my fault that all of the crazy stuff on your Wall of Weird is my fault. Do you see it now? Do you see why I spend so much time in my Fortress of Solitude, looking out at the world that I will never truly be a part of?
"You, you are my lifeline. You keep me grounded. You keep me happy on bad days, are always there to cheer me up with a witty comment or a smile, you are good for help on my English homework any day of the week, you take me on wild adventures that always get us in trouble, but also bring us closer than ever, with the secret of what we were really looking for… you help me research the Freak of the Week and figure out how to deal with them. You are my best friend and confidant. You are always there, and Chlo- I don't think that I will be able to survive it if you leave me…"
Clark suddenly felt a great sense of peace wash over him as he admitted what he realized that he had been in denial about for the last several years:
"Chloe Sullivan, I think I'm in love with you."
Chapter 3
Chloe felt like she was floating. On her back, in a warm ocean, the hot sun caressing her face and legs. She was slowly bobbing on gentle waves that rolled beneath her, waves that lulled her senses and invited sleep. Stretching slightly and finding that she didn't sink in the least, Chloe tucked her hands behind her head and proceeded to doze off again. But wait. Realizing that she had not sunk when she stopped keeping herself up, she slowly opened her eyes, fully expecting to be blinded by the sun.
What met her eyes was nothing like what she expected. She was floating, all right, but that was because there was no set "up" or "down" to where she was. There were no solid objects, and the light was diffused, so she couldn't tell which direction it was coming from. She was floating in…well, she wasn't sure what she was floating in. Since she couldn't tell up from down, it was a- a blob. **That's it,** she decided, **I'm floating in a blob. Of course, the fact that everything is BRIGHT GREEN is not helping me any here…calm down, Sullivan. You'll figure this out. Think. What do you remember last??** She thought hard, recalling that she had been talking to Clark about something at school…something to do with the Torch, maybe? Oh, the length of his article. But what had happened? She had just been telling Clark that she felt fine, and she suddenly woke up here. Hmm.
**I wonder if I can move around,** she thought, then tried moving experimentally. She found that she could 'walk' through the stuff, which felt like it had the consistency of cold maple syrup. She couldn't jump, but she could propel herself by making walking motions with her legs, and she could also move by making swimming movements. **Now,** she thought wryly, **If only I had somewhere to go.**
Suddenly, she heard something. It was a murmur, a faint sound that she could barely make out. It sounded like… "Clark?" she called out into the goop anxiously, "Is that you? Clark, help!! Come rescue me! I'm over here!! Clark! CLARK!" She screamed the last word at the top of her lungs, a panicked despairing sound, full of longing and need. "Clark," she whispered, folding down to the 'ground' in defeat as she heard the murmur fade into nothingness.
She sat there for what seemed like hours. She sat, thinking about what she had left behind, what she would never see again, who she had lost. Her dad- oh, god her dad would be crushed. She had no idea what shape her body was in right now. She could be lying on the floor somewhere, in a coma, she could be dead and decaying by now for all she knew. And the Torch- who would run the Torch? Lana was okay, but didn't really have the multitasking skills that were needed for the job. And Pete was the worst with deadlines. And Clark, well, she wasn't letting herself think about Clark. If she did, she would have a breakdown. She loved him so much it hurt sometimes, but she had never told him…and now that she was possibly dead, she had completely missed her chance.
Wrapped in her thoughts, she didn't notice the shifting that was occurring in the green goop. All of a sudden, a portion of it turned a deep purple, then coalesced and took on the color and shape of Clark's form. "Clark!" cried Chloe joyfully, as she jumped up and rushed to him, arms outstretched. And then passed right through him. "Clark?" said Chloe, turning around and going back to him. The figure gave no response, didn't change expression. She hesitantly put out a hand, and passed it through the image a couple of times, making sure that he really WAS a dream, and wasn't here. Again, she dejectedly slumped down and sat on the 'ground' in front of the figure.
As she sat there, the figure came to life. It bent its knees in a sitting position, as if he were sitting on a chair, and then reached out, as if to pick something up. The Clark-image got an anguished expression on its face and began to speak, so softly that Chloe wasn't sure that she was really hearing it. "Oh, Chlo," it said, "You can't leave me. You have to fight whatever put you into this. Who will be editor for the Torch? Lana is okay, but she can't run the computers like you can. And all of the machines in the office hate me, as you well know. And Pete, I don't know what Pete would do. He would always be late turning in his articles if you didn't keep on him about them."
Chloe sat, enraptured, as the figure continued. She started in surprise when he admitted what he was, and then sat stunned as he concluded, "Chloe Sullivan, I think I'm in love with you." She sat there, numb, as the figure started to shimmer and fade. Springing out of her lethargy, she screamed, "Clark, wait! Wait!! Clark, I LOVE YOU TOO!! Please don't leave me again, please…" she trailed off as the last vestiges of the figure disappeared, and then dissolved into tears, all traces of hope utterly lost.
Chapter 4
She had been crying for what felt like hours. She was curled in a fetal position in this really bad idea of a dream, feeling the most lost she had in years. As a matter of fact, the last time she had felt like this was when her mom had left them, all of those years ago. But now, there wasn't even a friend like Clark to help her through it, no one to talk to, and no hope of getting on with her life and letting her wounds slowly heal. No- here, she was stranded for good. And this ugly green color wasn't helping things either.
"Oh, Clark," she whispered, having cried her voice out, "where are you? I need you…"
**
Clark was sitting at Chloe's bedside, as he had been since she had come to this horrible hospital. For the last week, he had sat by her, holding her hand, only leaving when he had to- for the bathroom and when the nurses forced him out so that they could do a checkup on her. He didn't even leave to eat- his parents and Mr. Sullivan had begun taking turns bringing him food on a regular basis, seeing the determination in his eyes.
It killed him, seeing his Chloe lying there in a coma, looking like death. She was pale and wan, with none of the vibrant emotion that usually brought her face alive. He sat there and contemplated the feelings that he had realized the first day she had come here. He still thought Lana was pretty, and would probably jump at the chance to date her, but these feelings that he was having toward Chloe seemed more…real, almost. Lana was someone he was interested in kissing, where Chloe was someone he could see spending his life with. He hadn't realized that immediately, when he had been talking to her, telling her that she had to beat whatever had put her in this condition because everyone needed her. He was mindlessly telling her that the Torch needed her, Pete and Lana and Mr. Sullivan needed her- and had realized that most of all, he needed her. She had always been there for him, his bright little fairy journalist, and somewhere along the lines his affection towards her as a friend had turned into love for her as something more- as a woman. A beautiful woman, sure of herself and… good looking. She was well proportioned, with just the right amount of curviness. She had those sparkling greenish eyes and that great smile, and she fit into his arms perfectly, something he had noticed in passing the last time he had given her a hug. How had he not noticed these things earlier??
**Well, Kent,** he told himself sternly, **you missed it because you were too busy lusting after Lana, who only gave you the time of day when she and Whitney were on outs, and is too wrapped up in the fact that her parents are gone. How could you have been so pathetic? You must have hurt her so much, always mooning after Lana and sharing your feelings with her. Good job, loser.**
He was awash in feelings of depression and self loathing that he almost didn't notice the faint voice. It was a female, and she sounded… well, she sounded majorly pissed off. And she sounded like Chloe. But that couldn't be, Chloe was lying here in front of him, still in that stupid coma. He didn't hear it again, so he shrugged it off as an overactive imagination.
He was so worried about her, it hurt. He didn't know what had put her in this state, no one knew, and it seemed to be slowly killing her. He had overheard the doctor telling Mr. Sullivan that the longer Chloe stayed in this coma, the less the chance that she would come out of it. More to reassure himself than her, Clark carefully climbed into the hospital bed next to Chloe. Turning on his side and getting as close to her as he could, he gathered her into his arms, warming her slightly chilly skin. This hospital was too cold, and the blankets were too thin. Gathering her even closer, Clark held the tiny woman that meant so much to him, and proceeded to fall asleep for the first time in days, comforted with the knowledge that he would be able to keep his Chloe safe and nearby. And as he slept, he never noticed the small sigh that she gave and the slightest motions of her head she made to rest more comfortably against his chest…
Chapter 5
Chloe was to the point of lividity. She had cried, begged, and pleaded, and nothing had happened. So now, she was yelling. "Where the hell am I? Am I dead? Am I being held captive? What? WHAT?! All I wanted was to get that issue of the Torch out. That's it. And maybe spend some quality alone time with Clark. But no. I am here, in this FREAKING… DREAM place, with no idea where this is or how I can get out or WHAT is going on, AND WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THIS GREEN COLOR???" She shouted the last bit at the top of her lungs, kicking and flailing all around her, even though she knew that it was futile. She continued berating her surroundings, to the point of insulting the parentage of the green stuff, to no avail. She punctuated her speech with periodic punches and kicks, more to make herself feel better than to do any damage. This irritating green stuff was impervious to everything, apparently. And silent. She hated silence.
Her anger spent, Chloe's journalist's mind went to work on solving the problem of where she was and how she could escape. Her headaches had been going on for about two weeks, ever since she and Clark had gone to investigate reports of the strange sightings around the Marshall farm. The lake on the Marshall's land had been hit numerous times by the meteors. The lake provided the water for all of the trees and crops on the farm, and the tainted water had caused… interesting mutations in the trees. As it turned out, the strange sightings of mysterious floating green objects were only leaves falling off of the mutated trees. Some chemical reaction with the odd combination of Kryptonite and water caused the leaves to glow as the stem end was ripped from the tree. Now that she thought about it, the color of the leaves was a lot like this putrid green color she was currently surrounded by. And she had accidentally gotten the lake water all over her hands when she was taking samples of it. But- no, it couldn't be. She couldn't have been contaminated by it.
…Except for the fact that she had wiped her hands on her jeans, then used those very same hands to pull her hair back from her face and unpack the lunch she had brought herself. "Oh, wonderful," she said aloud in her best sarcastic voice, "I didn't use gloves, of course, and now that crap has messed me up and put me into this- place. GRRRR!" she shouted, anger flaring up again, this time at herself. "Why didn't you think, Sullivan?? You deal with the Freaks of the Week often enough to know that the meteor rocks are dangerous, and what do you go and do? Get yourself put here. In… wherever this is.
"That'll teach you to be more careful. Huh. Prize winning journalist indeed. Can't even get proper evidence without making yourself sick. Stupid, stupid, stupid…"
**
In his deep sleep, Clark dreamed.
He dreamed of his early days with the Kents, learning about human habits and customs and ways of dress. He didn't remember anything about where he came from, but he did recall that the way humans dressed seemed very odd to him when he first arrived. He dreamed of the sense of pride he got as a child when he could help his dad with the heavy stuff, and the wonder of learning that he could defy gravity and fly. So far, flying was still his favorite power. He dreamed of the friends he had made and of the people he loved and cherished- his mom and dad, Lex, Pete, Lana, and…Chloe. With her, his dream took a new, odd turn. He was floating in some green gooey stuff. It felt sticky and somehow bad, but didn't actually stick to him.
Looking around in the half awake curiosity of sleep, Clark noticed a tiny figure in the distance. She appeared to be standing on nothing, and was gesticulating wildly. As he went closer, he could see that she was yelling also, but to nothing in particular. In fact, there didn't seem to be anyone else but them in this place. And the woman hadn't seemed to have noticed him yet. As he drew closer, the woman turned around with her shoulders slumped, muttering to herself. Clark would have been interested in why she was calling herself stupid, but as the woman turned around he noticed her features.
"Chloe?"
"CLARK!!"
Chapter 6
Chloe stopped her mad rush towards him and eyed him suspiciously. "You're not all immaterial like the last you was, are you," she asked what appeared to be Clark standing in front of her.
He looked at her with a quizzical expression on his face. "The last me? I don't know what you're talking about Chlo. Now," he said, and then reached out and swept her into a hug. "God I missed you," he said into the top of her head, holding her tight.
That reminded her. "Clark," she said, pulling away just enough to look up at him, "What's going on? Where is my body? Where is this? Why am I here?"
He looked down on her, a hesitant expression on his face. "No one knows what's wrong with you. Your body is at Metropolis General, in a coma. All of the doctors think that you won't wake up. Chlo, they said the longer you stay in a coma, the less chance there is for you to wake up. I can't lose you!" He was really distressed now, and it shone clearly on his face.
She grinned a little at him. "Well, I can help on a little bit- I think I know why I'm sick," she said.
"Really?"
"Yeah," she said, "remember the Marshall farm? How there were all of those weird sightings?"
Clark winced. "I remember how sick that place made me," he replied.
**Yeah, gotta remember to ask him about that one,** she thought as she continued. "Well, I went back after you went home sick, and I took a couple of samples. Remember how I figured out that it was a chemical reaction of the mixed water and meteor rocks?" seeing his nod, she said with a chagrined expression on her face, "when I took the samples that I used to figure this out, I accidentally got the water all over my hands. And instead of doing something intelligent, like wiping my hands on a towel which I would then burn, I wiped my hands on my jeans, pulled my hair back, and then I used my contaminated hands to make myself lunch. So somehow the meteor rocks must have gotten inside me, specifically inside my head."
Looking around curiously, Clark asked, "So do you think that the meteor rocks are the reason that everything is this color green?" adding to himself, **it's the color they turn when they're near me.**
She nodded, laying her head back onto his chest. She mumbled to his shirt, "Okay, now we know why, but we don't know how to fix it. What'll we do?!"
"I don't know Chloe, I don't know." Suddenly, he felt a tug at his consciousness. Crap. Someone must be trying to wake him up. He wasn't sure how he knew this, but he did. "Chloe, I have to go now. Keep strong, I will do whatever I can to get you out of here." Over her protests, he looked at her and said, "No, Chlo, listen to me. I HAVE to go. I can't stay. I promise I'll be back for you. But for now, go within yourself. This is your mind, so you should have a little bit of control, somewhere. Maybe start with trying to make the color change. Just go within...."
His voice faded as he faded out of existence, and Chloe was once again left alone. Looking around at the exasperating green stuff, she decided to take the positive view on things. "Well, blob," she said whimsically, "It's just you and me again. Go within, huh?" She 'sat' down and crossed her legs, and said to herself, "Well, I guess I should get to work. Go within? Hmmm...."
Chapter 7
As Gabe Sullivan walked into Metropolis General for the umpteenth time in the last week, he sighed. He was very tired, from staying with Chloe late into the night and then driving home to clean up and go to work, after which he would drive back to Metropolis, and the hospital. The nurses had gotten to know him and Clark by sight. As he walked down the hallway that Chloe's room was on, he saw Clark's mother Martha sitting outside the door. As he approached her, he noticed the slump to her shoulders as she leaned over and rubbed her face with her hands.
"Hello Martha," he greeted as he walked up, "how are you today?"
She smiled wanly at him. "Fine, thank you. They're asleep," she added quickly, seeing his intent to go into the room.
"Okay, I'll just go in and check on her. Maybe after, we can go down to the dining hall and get something to eat. You look bushed." He said this as he walked in, not noticing Martha's anxious expression.
What he saw when he entered caught him flat-footed. Instead of Clark sitting next to the bed holding Chloe's hand, and Chloe lying in the bed, he found Clark's large frame crammed into the bed next to his daughter, his arms wrapped around her and one of his legs overlapping hers. The boy was asleep, with a slight smile on his face. Not trusting himself, he turned on his heel and went back out. He saw Martha standing outside the door with an anxious expression on her tired face.
"Now Gabe," she started, but he cut her off in a terse, low voice.
"You knew about this?"
"Well, yes," she said, with an apologetic smile, "I thought it was kind of sweet."
"Sweet? You call your son climbing into bed with my daughter sweet?!"
"Gabe," said Martha in a borderline irritated voice, "You know very well that Clark and Chloe are best friends and that Clark wouldn't do a thing to hurt her. For all you know, he could have done that because she was calling out to him. Now, I would understand if we found them together like that in a bedroom somewhere, but here it's harmless. Give Clark a little credit before you go off on him."
Taking her reasoning to heart because he was just too tired to argue, and he saw what she was saying, his shoulders slumped in resignation. "Fine, Martha, I see your point. But can we at least wake him up so I can see how my little girl is doing and have our daily talk?" He knew it was dumb, but Gabe had taken to talking to his girl when he came to visit, telling her about his day and what was going on at home. He also knew that she wouldn't hear it, but it gave him comfort to pretend that she was listening intently.
He walked into Chloe's tiny room with Martha, who got a slightly misty smile on her face when she saw the sleeping teens. Walking over to the bed, he reached out and shook Clark's shoulder. Getting no response, he shook harder.
"That won't work Gabe," said Martha suddenly, "He sleeps like the dead. Clark honey," she called softly at him, "it's time to get up. C'mon Clark, up and at 'em. You'll be late," she added for emphasis, causing Clark's eyes to snap open, though there was no lucidity in them. She looked at Gabe, apologetic once again. "The only way to wake him up is to tell him that he's going to be late for school. I haven't figured out any other way to do it."
As soon as Clark snapped away from the dream plane into the real world, his eyes opened and focused on his mom. **If she woke me up, how is she standing all the way over there? I could swear that she was shaking me** he though to himself, realizing slowly that his mom was looking almost pleadingly at someone standing on the other side of the bed, behind him. Lifting his head and shaking it a bit to clear it, he looked around. And gulped as he realized that a really pissed off looking Mr. Sullivan was standing there. "Hi, Mr. Sullivan," said Clark weakly.
"Hello, Clark," said Gabe in a serious voice. "Are you comfortable?"
This was a loaded question. "Uh, yes," said Clark, guardedly, "She looked cold, so…" He trailed off.
"Well, Clark," continued Gabe in the serious voice that, for some reason, made Clark extremely nervous, "I would like some time alone with my daughter, if you wouldn't mind."
"Uh, no," stammered Clark, "I'll go ahead and leave." He made to get out of the bed, then realized how entangled he and Chloe were. "That's funny," he said, brow furrowed in consternation, "I laid down next to her. I didn't curl up like this, and her head definitely wasn't this close to me," seeing Gabe's expression darken a little, he took the smart way out and stopped talking. Carefully disentangling himself from Chloe, he got out of the bed and then walked slowly out of the room with his mom, but not before placing a gentle kiss on Chloe's forehead. He didn't notice how Gabe's expression softened at this small gesture.
Once out in the hall, he turned to his mom. "Why was he angry at me? I was only trying to warm Chloe up. She felt so cold, and I felt I needed to take care of her, and that was the only way I could think of, besides calling a nurse, and they don't need to be bothered by something as stupid as getting more blankets for a comatose teenager, and…"
"Clark, honey," interrupted Martha, "It's okay. I understand, and I think that Mr. Sullivan does too, as much as he doesn't like that his little girl is all grown up and has friends that are boys that find Chloe attractive. It will be fine, just don't push it. And, Clark," she said, noticing his relieved and almost happy expression, "Behave yourself, understand?"
He sobered immediately. "Yeah, Mom, I will. I never expected things to happen like this, ya know? This caught me completely by surprise. Geez," he said bitterly, shaking his head, "how stupid am I, to have this beautiful girl right in front of me and not notice?"
"Not stupid, Clark," said Martha, "Just clueless. Like most guys on this planet. And yours, apparently." She said this with a smile, and was relieved to see the beginnings of a smile on his face in return. "Now, why don't we go and get something to eat while Gabe is talking to Chloe?"
"Sure, mom," said Clark eagerly. "Maybe something from McDonald's?"
She laughed at the puppy dog expression on his face. "Fine, Clark. Whatever you feel like."
Chapter 8
Gabe looked at his daughter as Martha and Clark left the room. She was still lying in that hospital bed, looking fragile and tiny. The normally boisterous bright girl that he loved wasn't evident anywhere. He sighed heavily as he sat down in the chair next to the bed that Clark usually occupied. "Hi, honey," he started, his voice cracking a bit with strain and fatigue. "How are you today? The doctors told me that you hadn't changed at all, but it's always nice to come and see for yourself. Today at work Mr. Luthor asked about how you were doing. Said Pete told him all about you when he asked where Clark had disappeared to. He sent you flowers," he said, gesturing at the beautiful bouquet of lilies on the table across the room. "Said it was the best he could do. He also gave the whole plant raises today. It wasn't a lot, but think, honey, about what we could do with that little bit of extra money!! We could save it and use it to work on the bathroom, remodel the old one, maybe put in a new one just for you!
"Oh honey, you need to wake up. I don't know what I would do if you left me. Work is okay, but Earl from the plant- remember him? Big guy, always used to sneak you those caramel candies you liked so much? - Earl, he said that I had been working too hard, and that I was gonna kill myself soon if I didn't slow down. Without you, I have no one to make sure I eat something besides pizza at least once a week, no one to make sure that I match as I walk out the door to work, no one to keep me from taking too much overtime at the plant. Without you, honey, I have no one to keep me alive. I love you so much. When I walked in on Clark sleeping in your bed, my first thought was that you two are too young for those things. But you're not, are you. You've grown up. You're not my little girl anymore, as much as I would like you to be. I miss you," he said, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and threatening to spill over. "Oh, geez," he said, covering his eyes with one hand as he gave a watery laugh, "I haven't let myself cry this whole time because I firmly believed that you were going to get better. You were just going to suddenly snap out of it one day, and be all right. But the doctors… well, honey, they told me that the longer you stayed asleep like this, the less chance there was for you to wake up. So wake up, honey. You need to wake up…" at that moment, the tears overflowed and Gabe welcomed the emotional relief- all the while holding tight to his daughter's hand. He let the tears fall silently for an indeterminate amount of time, until his mind was directed elsewhere by the sounds coming from the machinery hooked up to Chloe. Because while he had been crying, something had changed. And he could only stand and watch helplessly as the doctors and nurses rushed into the room in response to the multiple alarms that were ominously blaring.
Across town, Clark suddenly stopped chewing on his French fry. Something felt… wrong. Ominous. Like something was about to change for the worse. And there was nothing he could do about it…
Chapter 9
Chloe was still floating. And she was getting tired of it. She had been sitting here, patiently, for an eternity. She had tried to go within, and had failed, so she had resorted to ordering the impassive green stuff around. She told it to change color, then to show her Clark again. Then, she decided that she needed amusement, so she decided to try other commands on the green stuff. Such as, "Sit!" and "Stay!" and "Heel!" with an occasional, "GOOOD green stuff!" thrown in.
Yes, she, Chloe Sullivan, was getting bored. Very bored. And when she got bored, she got silly. And impulsive. And Mmmmm, she and Clark could do anything here without parents. And, for that matter, probably without consequences. Which led to her imagining Clark without a shirt. Which led to other things that she had sworn to herself not to think about.
**Okay. Get back on topic.**
"Well, Sullivan," she said out loud, just to break the silence, "let's give this another try, shall we?" With that, she once more sat down with her legs crossed and assumed a meditative pose. She closed her eyes and imagined a white room, completely seamless and bare, a place that no thoughts or sounds or images could pop up. She had used this technique to help her fall asleep after her mom had died- she had not been able to sleep because she kept imagining a string of actions she could have taken to save her mom, keep her from dying. Those thoughts had kept her awake, trembling, until all hours of the night, until she had found this way to quell them. This time, instead of seeing the usual stark white room, she pictured a green amorphous place, exactly like where she was right now. In her mind's mind's eye- **Oooohh, is that one a mind- bending concept, or what?**- she saw the green blob changing to purple. With bright yellow spots. She concentrated on this image for a long time, until something clicked in her head. She felt something change, an indescribable feeling but there nonetheless. Cautiously opening her eyes, she grinned and clapped with glee. For, lo and behold, her surroundings were now bright purple with bright yellow spots.
Somehow knowing how to change things now, she quested around with her newly awakened mind. With a thought from her, the blob began to rapidly flicker in different colors: prupleblueredyellowbrownblackredpinkwhitegreenblueorangepinkyellowpurple. On and on. Finally settling on Purple, Chloe began to quest through the whole of the place she was in. If she unfocused her mind just so, she could feel her whole mind. Kind of cool, that. She could feel herself, somewhere near the middle of the place, and she could feel the edges of the thing.
Questing around, she felt the edges, finding that she was, essentially, in the exact middle of a big giant sphere, something that resembled a drop of water. The "edges" felt like a skin of some type, a flexible skin that contained all that was held within.
Including her.
God, she hated puzzles. Like, how to pop the "skin" and get out. Exhausting her mental self momentarily, she returned to her mind/body and looked around. The emptiness and expansiveness of the blob remained, but it felt… different somehow. This was getting frustrating to her journalist's mind, not being able to describe what was happening. She was a wordsmith at heart, and this was killing her. She wouldn't be able to explain anything to Clark!
After resting for a time (she still didn't have any awareness of time, beyond the fact that it was passing), she decided to try again. Expanding her mind's mind, she was once again able to feel the edges of the blob she was in. She leaned back and studied the problem for a while, then decided to concentrate on one particular spot and try to break through. She formed her mental self into a pointy- feeling shape, then reared back and speared as hard as she could at the boundary.
She bounced back so hard, her mind/body tumbled backwards- even though she was sitting. Sitting up and rubbing her forehead, she said to herself, "Well, I can see THAT won't work."
After resting her now- pounding mind/head, she decided to try a new tactic. This time, instead of concentrating on one particular spot, what if she expanded herself and kind of pushed against the whole thing? Then, maybe the blob would be pushed past its limit and would burst- freeing her in the process. As she let her mind's mind expand for the second time, she also caused herself to expand, to flatten out almost- except she was at all points in the sphere. It was kind of weird, actually. She knew that she was 3D, but she felt stretched out flat. It was an odd twisty feeling. Even though that was technically a contradiction. Shaking her head and bringing herself back to the task at hand, she tentatively pushed at the barriers containing this blob that she hated. So wrapped up in pushing and making sure she was pushing evenly, she didn't notice the blackness that was encroaching on the blob, pushing through the crack that were forming in the blob, spiking through the bright purple that Chloe had changed it to, spiking and snaking towards her, to wrap around her.
Finally, the bubble popped with a weird cracking sound. Chloe was elated for an instant, before she realized that the darkness had completely enveloped her, and that she was sinking, sinking, sinking into a depthless sea of black. And somewhere, instinctually, she knew that if she allowed herself to continue in her downwards spiral she would not be able to come back up. But there was seemingly nothing that she could do about it. Her last lucid thought was of Clark, and of how she had failed him.
Chapter 10
Hurry hurry hurry hurry hurry hurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurry…. Clark's mind chanted over and over as he impatiently tapped his foot on the floor of the car. He knew his mom was driving as fast as she could back to the hospital, after he had told her that something felt wrong, but he still didn't feel it was fast enough. He had to physically grip the door handle of the car to not jump out and super-speed his way back to the hospital. Finding out be damned, he had to get to Chloe. His mom kept shooting him worried glances as they went, as if she could feel the self restraint that Clark was imposing on himself, but she wisely bit her lip and said nothing about it.
When they arrived at the hospital, Clark had an even harder time not super- speeding his way up to Chloe's room. He did go at a normal run, however. What he saw when he got there made his knees weak, causing him to stop abruptly and hang on to the nearest solid object. The doctors were trying to revive Chloe. As he looked wildly around, he saw the little machine that monitored her heart rate- it was beeping sporadically and quietly. That couldn't be good. And it stopped beeping altogether a few minutes later, at which point the doctors tried to restart her heart. And a few minutes later, after no success, they stopped trying.
***
Chloe was floating, in a stupor from the exhaustion that had claimed her after breaking the bubble. She had tried- oh, how she had tried- to put up a fight, but that futile fight had taken the last of her strength. She felt a jolt and somehow knew that she was back in her real body, but she couldn't do anything but lie there passively as her mind raced.
Obviously, she had succeeded in what she wanted to do but had failed to survive it. Her mind protested with this, keeping up a running commentary on what was going on. **Hey, I'm still here! What are you going to do with that evil- looking piece of machinery? Ahhhh! That hurt! You know, I'm still here, I just need to rest for a little bit. Then I can wake up and Clark will be there and we will live happily ever after, and have a little house and 2.5 children… what are you doing? Why are you walking away like that? Dead?! What the hell are you talking about? I'm right here! All I need is some sleep! Clark! Clark!! You can see me, you can hear me, tell them that I'm STILL HERE!! CLARK!!!!** In an action borne of desperation, she pushed herself out of her body and floated over to Clark, who was staring despondently off into space and ignoring her entirely. She stamped a diminutive foot on the air, then threw up her hands. Well, then, she'd just have to go and take that nap and show them all when she woke up. She wanted desperately to make Clark realize that she was there, but she was too tired to try to get the idea through his thick skull.
As she returned to her body, however, the sleep that she felt that she needed would not come. Instead, she laid there and watched as Clark's face held hope, then despair. She felt sad for him, sad that he didn't know the truth of the thing, sad that they wouldn't ever have the joy of dating and having a future together, one where Chloe knew all of his secrets and he knew all of hers. And, in her mind, she wept the tears that her body was no longer capable of. She was a completely live soul in a dead body. And that sucked, big time.
***
The only thought that tumbled, over and over and over in Clark's head: **It can't be. It can't be. It can't be.** Pieces of thoughts swirled through his head, protestations to the cruelness that was fate. Only a few hours ago, he had been next to her and sleeping content and talking to her in the dream plane, telling her that everything would be all right. That she was strong, that she could overcome this thing, whatever manifestation of Kryptonite it was. He felt lost, his soul felt like it was being sucked down into a black void, a confusing swirling black and purple and green whirlpool that he was rapidly drowning in. He had told Chloe that he would be completely lost without her, and lost he was.
In a last resort to save himself, he walked slowly and haltingly over to the bed that held a now- lifeless and cold Chloe. No, not Chloe. But it still looked so achingly like her that it tore at his heart. He was lost and she was cold and everything was wrong with the world and Chloe could always make it right and he needed to be as close to her as possible, so he needed, he needed…. He was lost in an ocean of need, and he did the only thing that his scattered mind could think to do.
Carefully, he once more climbed into that bed next to her and wrapped her limp form into his arms, huddling close to her in order to warm her up, bring her back to life. In the back of his mind, he knew that it was futile, but the irrational grief- stricken childish side of him quelled that voice with a ferocity that surprised even him.
Then, he put his head next to Chloe's and gazed at her face, willing her to come back and to be with him again, to give him direction, as a worried Gabe Sullivan and a cautiously hopeful Martha Kent looked on.
"Chlo," he whispered, barely more than breath passing his lips, "Chlo, you can't be gone. I love you too much, Chlo. I know… you have to be there, Chlo. You just have to. There isn't any other way for me to live, than with you. I love you too much, I love you too much, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you… I have always loved you, Chlo. Always. And I always will if you come back to me. Please come back to me, Chlo! Please!!" His voice breaking, he suddenly pulled Chloe's body into a tight embrace and squeezed his eyes shut. With a desperation borne of the slightest hope, he threw his soul out and into the void he could sense inside of her. He was somehow suspended between the real world and Chloe's soul, but he could feel her there, the tiniest of tiny threads, all golden and lovely and Chloe. And with all of the might he could muster, he grabbed at that thread with his very being. And hoped that, somehow, Chloe would sense it was him and grab back.
Chapter 11
Chloe was there, in the blackness, waiting for… she didn't know what. She did, however, know that whatever- it- was needed to come soon, or she would be gone. She was slowly getting colder, bearing the point that she would not be able to warm up again, no matter what she did. She clung to herself in this void, and hoped.
Suddenly, she saw something. A light, a shimmer, she couldn't think of what it was. She couldn't describe it, but she knew, somehow, that it was what she had been waiting for. She felt, in the back of her being, the grab that this welcome shimmer made. And with the last of her strength and all of her being, Chloe Sullivan grabbed back.
*
To Martha and Gabe, it seemed that Clark had fallen silent after he had fiercely hugged Chloe. What Martha was seeing, she didn't know, but she somehow knew that it was Clark's last ditch effort to get Chloe back, despite the fact that she had been declared dead a couple of minutes ago. Gabe only saw a distraught teenager that was trying vainly to bring his dead daughter back to life. Dead daughter. Oh, God, his daughter was dead. He staggered with the realization, clinging to Martha when she drew him into an embrace of sorrow.
And suddenly, she was there. Chloe's back arched as she drew in a huge breath, then settled and opened her eyes. Clark opened his as well, and both of the adults' eyes filled as they witnessed the reunion between the young ones. Gabe stood there, astonished, as Martha called for a doctor. And watched, not even protesting, as Chloe and Clark lay there, foreheads pressed together, staring into each other's eyes.
Epilogue
Chloe Sullivan stood at her locker for the first time in two weeks. As she stood there, she scanned the crowded halls for Clark and Pete. As they walked up to her, Chloe's racing train of thought piled up, as usual. Same as before her… illness. But there was a difference. Now, she didn't have to curb her impulses. Now, she could reach up and run her fingers through Clark's hair, without hesitation. And she did, reveling in the softness of it as he bent down to give her a quick kiss. Ever since she had woken up, Clark had not left her side for more than a few hours, and that was just to go home and sleep and do his chores. The Kents understood the bond between Chloe and Clark, but they drew the line at Clark's staying over- they were teenagers, and they were dating. Best not tempt fate.
"And how are we feeling this morning?" asked Clark playfully.
"We are doing just fine, thank you," she replied happily. "Actually, I have a new story I want to investigate. Apparently, the trees have legs over on the south side of town…"
~Fin~
Author's Note: This story is a Clark/Chloe shipper story. Personally, I think that either outcome would be good- Chloe/Clark -OR- Clark/Lana. Thanks to my bestest buddy Luxorien for reading this and providing support and criticism…and for basically giving me a kick and telling me that I should write a Smallville fanfic already. I need feedback in order to continue the story, because my free time is valuable, and if y'all don't like it, I don't need to waste my time… Have fun!! Also note: ** denotes thoughts. This story is a slight Alternate Universe, because Clark has developed the power of flight, something he hasn't achieved on the show.
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Chapter 1
**Hmm, ** thought Chloe Sullivan as she peered down the main hall of Smallville High, **I wonder where Clark and Pete are?** It wasn't like she was looking for Clark, oh no, she just- wanted to talk to him about that article for the Torch that he was writing. He was doing a front page article, and she wanted to make sure that he got it letter perfect. On topic, nothing that that tyrant Kwan could object to. The general sentiment **grrrr** crossed her mind at the thought of the principal's name. Yes- she, Chloe Sullivan, was mentally growling at the principal.
Her train of thought derailed and piled up in a heap when she saw the object of her musings, one said Clark Kent, six foot four of gorgeous, completely drool-worthy male. His dark hair tumbled over his forehead as usual, and Chloe had to fight the urge to reach up and brush it back, as she always did, as he walked up, fighting his way through the crowded halls.
"Hey Chlo, what's up?" asked Clark, flashing his brilliant smile at her, in the process making her knees weak and causing her train of thought to once again derail.
"Ah, nothing. I was just wondering if you had the draft of that article you're writing for me, so I can look over it and make sure you're on the right track," said Chloe in her normal chipper self, her lust for her friend carefully hidden, as it had been since…well, puberty. Since she had realized that her best friend was a guy, and a hot guy at that…she was jerked back to reality when she realized that Clark had just asked her a question.
"I'm sorry, what did you say? I was spacing a little," she said with a smile.
"I was asking you how long you wanted the article, because I could write a lot more, but if you want it to be short, I can do that too" replied Clark with a little frown. "Are you okay? You seem a little more out of it than usual."
"I'm fine, I'm fine," she replied breezily as she walked away toward her Algebra class, "So, I'll see you in the Torch office after school, article in hand, right?"
"Right," replied Clark, walking in the other direction to English.
**Oh man. He is so cute,** she thought wistfully as she walked through the crowded halls. Her shoulders slumped as she continued on the journey in her mind that inevitably brought her to, **But of course, me, his best friend, is the furthest person from his mind when he thinks of girlfriend material. He looks at me, and it's normal old Chloe, good friend. It's almost like he completely overlooks the fact that I am a girl. I bet he doesn't even think of me as a girl- I'm probably just Chloe. Plain old Chloe… Ohhh, my head hurts worse than ever today…**
These depressing thoughts continued all day until after school when she headed for the Torch office. Her shoulders straightened and her walk became bouncier as she headed toward the two things she valued most in her life: Clark Kent and the Torch. As she walked into the office, she got a delicious view of Clark from behind, because he was gazing at the Wall of Weird, his back to the door. She briefly considered sneaking up behind him and grabbing him, and then considered for a great deal more time what it would be like to kiss him, and had decided to just run up and jump on his back- ** I really have to watch these dangerous playful moods I've gotten into lately** - when Clark turned around to greet her, stopping her in mid- preparation to launch herself.
"Hey," she greeted him in a normal tone of voice, nothing in her bearing to indicate that she had been about to do something monumentally stupid. "So, do you have that article, Mr. Kent? The presses have to start rolling by five, you know."
He smiled and said, "Why, yes ma'am, I do have the article, but you never answered my question from before." He raised his eyebrow at her quizzically.
She looked up at him, obviously confused. "Question? Which question was that?"
He gave her a worried look and said slowly, "The question about the length of my article. I asked you this morning if you wanted it to be short, or whether there was room for it to be long. Are you sure you're okay, Chlo? You never miss anything when it comes to the Torch, and this is pretty important- it's the front page, for goodness' sakes."
She blinked, and then said, "Yes, Clark, I'm fine. Reall-" suddenly, her eyes widened and she slumped, Clark barely managing to catch her, even with his super reflexes.
"Chloe? Chlo, wake up!!" Clark said urgently, lightly stroking the side of her face with one finger as he had when they were children at their sleepovers- he would rub the side of her face to wake her up in the middle of the night, so they could go and raid the refrigerator. Of course, they were only five or six at the time, but Clark still remembered every detail, from the scary stories late at night to the movies that Mr. Sullivan would rent for them. But now, as he suddenly snapped out of his reminiscing, remembering his friend, Clark didn't know what to do- Chloe wasn't waking up, and Pete wouldn't be stopping by because he had football practice. And Lana was off doing something with the Talon… So, he quickly decided, the best thing would be to take her to Dr. Losch's office. It was the nearest place he could think of, and the nearest hospital was in Metropolis- too far away, even with his super speed- Clark was seriously starting to feel worried. His insides were tied in a tight, heavy knot because Chloe, his best friend, wasn't waking up, and she had been out for what felt like an eternity now. He remembered hearing something about a normal fainting spell only lasting a minute at the most, and it had been more than a minute.
So, with something to do besides just stand there with Chloe deadweight in his arms, he started off to Dr. Losch's office, worry clearly written on his face.
Chapter 2
Clark looked down at Chloe as he sped to Dr. Losch's office. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, was drowning in these feelings that he had no name for, didn't know how to deal with. Chloe, his Chloe, was deadweight in his arms. She wasn't moving, and she was pale as death…He felt lost. For as long as he could remember his time on this planet, she had been there, a constant outgoing blonde fixture in his life. She helped him keep what little sense of normality he possessed. Now, he was the one that had to keep her on the right track…alive and healthy.
As he approached the doctor's office, he slowed to a normal speed run. He entered the waiting room and glanced around at the sterile, white walls, fighting to keep the panic from his voice as he called for the doctor. Dr. Losch was a man of medium height, with a salt- and- pepper hair and beard and small glasses. He came hurrying out to see what the commotion was, and immediately started examining Chloe even as he instructed Clark to bring her into the nearest examining room. After placing her on the table with infinite care, he stood back and started to pace behind the doctor. 1…2…3…4…turn…1…2… 3…4…turn… He spun quickly as Dr Losch straightened up from Chloe's form.
"It looks as if your girlfriend here is in a coma. Could you tell me about how she has been the last few days? Has she been tired, complaining of headaches, forgetful, anything? I need to know all that I can," said the doctor to Clark in a grave voice.
"Um, well, she was really forgetful today. She forgot about the question she asked me about my article for the Torch, and she never forgets anything to do with the Torch. She was complaining of a really bad headache the other day. It was so bad, actually, that she went home and I had to run the presses for the next day's issue, and there's a running joke that nothing can keep Chlo from the Torch, short of a meteor shower," Clark babbled to the doctor, his thoughts unconnected and rushing out in an uncontrollable torrent. "And, she's not my girlfriend, she's my best friend, and my lifeline…" Clark stopped, finally at a loss for words, the lump in his throat making it difficult for him to breathe.
The doctor nodded knowingly, then said, "Well, she needs to be taken to Metropolis general, where they can monitor her condition and figure out exactly what's wrong. Do you know how I can get in touch with her parents?"
"Her dad. He works at the LuthorCorp plant, and I have the number here somewhere…" Clark fumbled around with all of the junk he carried in the pockets of his jeans, then handing the doctor the small hot pink scrap of paper, finally seeing Mr. Sullivan's reasoning in giving it to him. In case something like this ever happened.
"Well, I called an ambulance, and they should be here in a few minutes to take your friend here. I'm going to go call her father-"
"I'm going with her," said Clark, determination evident in his tone and eyes. "I'm not going to leave her alone."
The doctor again nodded. "Of course, son. Stay with her, and call me if she changes in condition at all." Seeing Clark's nod, he turned and left the room.
The ride in the ambulance to Metropolis General was hellish and long. Clark sat as close to Chloe as he could manage, holding on to her hand tightly, as if it were his lifeline. Which it was… as irrational as he knew it was, he couldn't help but have the feeling that he was keeping her alive by holding on to that hand, and if he let go he would lose her forever. When they finally arrived, he didn't let go of that hand until a nurse firmly told him that he had to stay out in the waiting area while they assessed her situation. He relented eventually, seeing the steel in the nurse's eyes and knowing that he needed to give the doctors room to work. But before he let go, he leaned down and, giving her a kiss on the forehead, told her that he would be right outside waiting for his first opportunity to come back to her. He thought he saw compassion in the nurse's eyes as she showed him where to wait.
He sat in the hard uncomfortable chairs of the waiting area for an hour before Mr. Sullivan showed up- understandable, since Smallville was about forty five minutes away at normal speeds. "How is she?" He asked worriedly as Clark rose to greet him.
"I don't know. No one has told me anything yet," replied Clark, following Chloe's dad as he headed to the reception desk.
"Hello? My name is Gabe Sullivan, my daughter Chloe came here about an hour ago from Smallville. Is there any word on her?"
"Oh, yes," replied the nurse, "I'll go get the doctor so he can talk to you."
"Thank you, ma'am."
The nurse came out a couple of minutes later, saying, "Mr. Sullivan, if you would come this way, the doctor will be able to see you in a few minutes. Please sit down and make yourself comfortable." She ushered he and Clark into a small room with a desk and a few overstuffed chairs in it, then left quietly.
The doctor came in a few minutes later, a tall skinny man with dark brown hair and eyes to match. He set his clipboard and folder onto the desk, then looked up at the anxiously awaiting Gabe Sullivan and Clark. "Hello," he said, in a deep, soft voice, "My name is Dr. Hall, and I looked at Chloe. We checked her vitals, and she appears to be normal, except for a bit of elevated brain activity and the fact that she is in a coma. We don't know exactly what is wrong with her, because the CAT scan didn't show anything, nor did the x-rays we did of her head to see if she had a tumor, or had perhaps fractured her skull in some manner. Simply, there is no logical explanation for why Chloe is in the state she's in. And, seeing that, we don't know what the possibilities of her waking up soon are. We don't even know if she will wake up at all. I'm very sorry gentlemen," he said, and, seeing Clark's expectant expression, with a slight knowing smile said, "She's in room 413, right down the hall. I need to talk with Mr. Sullivan, so you can go and see her if you would like."
Clark was out of the room and at Chloe's bedside in a flash. She was in a small room by herself, a quiet and dark room- not Chloe-esque at all. She would want a bright and vibrant room, so much like herself… when he caught sight of Chloe, he was brought to a stumbling halt. She was pale as death still, and hooked up to a bazillion wires and needles, the heart monitor beside her bed beeping placidly. Even though it was only a twin sized bed, she looked tiny in its huge impersonal embrace. Her arms lay on the cover, as if she were resting.
**She looks dead** was the only thought that Clark could hear, even though thousands of fragments swirled through his brain. Not knowing what to do, he dropped, stunned, into a chair beside her bed and picked up her hand. "Oh, Chlo," he whispered, "You can't leave me. You have to fight whatever put you into this. Who will be editor for the Torch? Lana is okay, but she can't run the computers like you can. And all of the machines in the office hate me, as you well know. And Pete, I don't know what Pete would do. He would always be late turning in his articles if you didn't keep on him about them.
"And Chlo, who is going to stargaze with me on my birthday every year if you go? It is something we have been doing for years, almost since I came here…I never got to tell you my secret. I never got to fly you way up, so you could see how beautiful Smallville really is. At night, all lit up, it looks like a gem in the middle of a bunch of coal…and from way high up, the stars are clearer- I go up there every once in a while to look for my home planet, wonder where I came from. Yep, me, your best friend- well, I'm not from around here. Remember that meteor shower that killed Lana's parents? Well, I came with that meteor shower- that's why it's my fault that all of the crazy stuff on your Wall of Weird is my fault. Do you see it now? Do you see why I spend so much time in my Fortress of Solitude, looking out at the world that I will never truly be a part of?
"You, you are my lifeline. You keep me grounded. You keep me happy on bad days, are always there to cheer me up with a witty comment or a smile, you are good for help on my English homework any day of the week, you take me on wild adventures that always get us in trouble, but also bring us closer than ever, with the secret of what we were really looking for… you help me research the Freak of the Week and figure out how to deal with them. You are my best friend and confidant. You are always there, and Chlo- I don't think that I will be able to survive it if you leave me…"
Clark suddenly felt a great sense of peace wash over him as he admitted what he realized that he had been in denial about for the last several years:
"Chloe Sullivan, I think I'm in love with you."
Chapter 3
Chloe felt like she was floating. On her back, in a warm ocean, the hot sun caressing her face and legs. She was slowly bobbing on gentle waves that rolled beneath her, waves that lulled her senses and invited sleep. Stretching slightly and finding that she didn't sink in the least, Chloe tucked her hands behind her head and proceeded to doze off again. But wait. Realizing that she had not sunk when she stopped keeping herself up, she slowly opened her eyes, fully expecting to be blinded by the sun.
What met her eyes was nothing like what she expected. She was floating, all right, but that was because there was no set "up" or "down" to where she was. There were no solid objects, and the light was diffused, so she couldn't tell which direction it was coming from. She was floating in…well, she wasn't sure what she was floating in. Since she couldn't tell up from down, it was a- a blob. **That's it,** she decided, **I'm floating in a blob. Of course, the fact that everything is BRIGHT GREEN is not helping me any here…calm down, Sullivan. You'll figure this out. Think. What do you remember last??** She thought hard, recalling that she had been talking to Clark about something at school…something to do with the Torch, maybe? Oh, the length of his article. But what had happened? She had just been telling Clark that she felt fine, and she suddenly woke up here. Hmm.
**I wonder if I can move around,** she thought, then tried moving experimentally. She found that she could 'walk' through the stuff, which felt like it had the consistency of cold maple syrup. She couldn't jump, but she could propel herself by making walking motions with her legs, and she could also move by making swimming movements. **Now,** she thought wryly, **If only I had somewhere to go.**
Suddenly, she heard something. It was a murmur, a faint sound that she could barely make out. It sounded like… "Clark?" she called out into the goop anxiously, "Is that you? Clark, help!! Come rescue me! I'm over here!! Clark! CLARK!" She screamed the last word at the top of her lungs, a panicked despairing sound, full of longing and need. "Clark," she whispered, folding down to the 'ground' in defeat as she heard the murmur fade into nothingness.
She sat there for what seemed like hours. She sat, thinking about what she had left behind, what she would never see again, who she had lost. Her dad- oh, god her dad would be crushed. She had no idea what shape her body was in right now. She could be lying on the floor somewhere, in a coma, she could be dead and decaying by now for all she knew. And the Torch- who would run the Torch? Lana was okay, but didn't really have the multitasking skills that were needed for the job. And Pete was the worst with deadlines. And Clark, well, she wasn't letting herself think about Clark. If she did, she would have a breakdown. She loved him so much it hurt sometimes, but she had never told him…and now that she was possibly dead, she had completely missed her chance.
Wrapped in her thoughts, she didn't notice the shifting that was occurring in the green goop. All of a sudden, a portion of it turned a deep purple, then coalesced and took on the color and shape of Clark's form. "Clark!" cried Chloe joyfully, as she jumped up and rushed to him, arms outstretched. And then passed right through him. "Clark?" said Chloe, turning around and going back to him. The figure gave no response, didn't change expression. She hesitantly put out a hand, and passed it through the image a couple of times, making sure that he really WAS a dream, and wasn't here. Again, she dejectedly slumped down and sat on the 'ground' in front of the figure.
As she sat there, the figure came to life. It bent its knees in a sitting position, as if he were sitting on a chair, and then reached out, as if to pick something up. The Clark-image got an anguished expression on its face and began to speak, so softly that Chloe wasn't sure that she was really hearing it. "Oh, Chlo," it said, "You can't leave me. You have to fight whatever put you into this. Who will be editor for the Torch? Lana is okay, but she can't run the computers like you can. And all of the machines in the office hate me, as you well know. And Pete, I don't know what Pete would do. He would always be late turning in his articles if you didn't keep on him about them."
Chloe sat, enraptured, as the figure continued. She started in surprise when he admitted what he was, and then sat stunned as he concluded, "Chloe Sullivan, I think I'm in love with you." She sat there, numb, as the figure started to shimmer and fade. Springing out of her lethargy, she screamed, "Clark, wait! Wait!! Clark, I LOVE YOU TOO!! Please don't leave me again, please…" she trailed off as the last vestiges of the figure disappeared, and then dissolved into tears, all traces of hope utterly lost.
Chapter 4
She had been crying for what felt like hours. She was curled in a fetal position in this really bad idea of a dream, feeling the most lost she had in years. As a matter of fact, the last time she had felt like this was when her mom had left them, all of those years ago. But now, there wasn't even a friend like Clark to help her through it, no one to talk to, and no hope of getting on with her life and letting her wounds slowly heal. No- here, she was stranded for good. And this ugly green color wasn't helping things either.
"Oh, Clark," she whispered, having cried her voice out, "where are you? I need you…"
**
Clark was sitting at Chloe's bedside, as he had been since she had come to this horrible hospital. For the last week, he had sat by her, holding her hand, only leaving when he had to- for the bathroom and when the nurses forced him out so that they could do a checkup on her. He didn't even leave to eat- his parents and Mr. Sullivan had begun taking turns bringing him food on a regular basis, seeing the determination in his eyes.
It killed him, seeing his Chloe lying there in a coma, looking like death. She was pale and wan, with none of the vibrant emotion that usually brought her face alive. He sat there and contemplated the feelings that he had realized the first day she had come here. He still thought Lana was pretty, and would probably jump at the chance to date her, but these feelings that he was having toward Chloe seemed more…real, almost. Lana was someone he was interested in kissing, where Chloe was someone he could see spending his life with. He hadn't realized that immediately, when he had been talking to her, telling her that she had to beat whatever had put her in this condition because everyone needed her. He was mindlessly telling her that the Torch needed her, Pete and Lana and Mr. Sullivan needed her- and had realized that most of all, he needed her. She had always been there for him, his bright little fairy journalist, and somewhere along the lines his affection towards her as a friend had turned into love for her as something more- as a woman. A beautiful woman, sure of herself and… good looking. She was well proportioned, with just the right amount of curviness. She had those sparkling greenish eyes and that great smile, and she fit into his arms perfectly, something he had noticed in passing the last time he had given her a hug. How had he not noticed these things earlier??
**Well, Kent,** he told himself sternly, **you missed it because you were too busy lusting after Lana, who only gave you the time of day when she and Whitney were on outs, and is too wrapped up in the fact that her parents are gone. How could you have been so pathetic? You must have hurt her so much, always mooning after Lana and sharing your feelings with her. Good job, loser.**
He was awash in feelings of depression and self loathing that he almost didn't notice the faint voice. It was a female, and she sounded… well, she sounded majorly pissed off. And she sounded like Chloe. But that couldn't be, Chloe was lying here in front of him, still in that stupid coma. He didn't hear it again, so he shrugged it off as an overactive imagination.
He was so worried about her, it hurt. He didn't know what had put her in this state, no one knew, and it seemed to be slowly killing her. He had overheard the doctor telling Mr. Sullivan that the longer Chloe stayed in this coma, the less the chance that she would come out of it. More to reassure himself than her, Clark carefully climbed into the hospital bed next to Chloe. Turning on his side and getting as close to her as he could, he gathered her into his arms, warming her slightly chilly skin. This hospital was too cold, and the blankets were too thin. Gathering her even closer, Clark held the tiny woman that meant so much to him, and proceeded to fall asleep for the first time in days, comforted with the knowledge that he would be able to keep his Chloe safe and nearby. And as he slept, he never noticed the small sigh that she gave and the slightest motions of her head she made to rest more comfortably against his chest…
Chapter 5
Chloe was to the point of lividity. She had cried, begged, and pleaded, and nothing had happened. So now, she was yelling. "Where the hell am I? Am I dead? Am I being held captive? What? WHAT?! All I wanted was to get that issue of the Torch out. That's it. And maybe spend some quality alone time with Clark. But no. I am here, in this FREAKING… DREAM place, with no idea where this is or how I can get out or WHAT is going on, AND WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THIS GREEN COLOR???" She shouted the last bit at the top of her lungs, kicking and flailing all around her, even though she knew that it was futile. She continued berating her surroundings, to the point of insulting the parentage of the green stuff, to no avail. She punctuated her speech with periodic punches and kicks, more to make herself feel better than to do any damage. This irritating green stuff was impervious to everything, apparently. And silent. She hated silence.
Her anger spent, Chloe's journalist's mind went to work on solving the problem of where she was and how she could escape. Her headaches had been going on for about two weeks, ever since she and Clark had gone to investigate reports of the strange sightings around the Marshall farm. The lake on the Marshall's land had been hit numerous times by the meteors. The lake provided the water for all of the trees and crops on the farm, and the tainted water had caused… interesting mutations in the trees. As it turned out, the strange sightings of mysterious floating green objects were only leaves falling off of the mutated trees. Some chemical reaction with the odd combination of Kryptonite and water caused the leaves to glow as the stem end was ripped from the tree. Now that she thought about it, the color of the leaves was a lot like this putrid green color she was currently surrounded by. And she had accidentally gotten the lake water all over her hands when she was taking samples of it. But- no, it couldn't be. She couldn't have been contaminated by it.
…Except for the fact that she had wiped her hands on her jeans, then used those very same hands to pull her hair back from her face and unpack the lunch she had brought herself. "Oh, wonderful," she said aloud in her best sarcastic voice, "I didn't use gloves, of course, and now that crap has messed me up and put me into this- place. GRRRR!" she shouted, anger flaring up again, this time at herself. "Why didn't you think, Sullivan?? You deal with the Freaks of the Week often enough to know that the meteor rocks are dangerous, and what do you go and do? Get yourself put here. In… wherever this is.
"That'll teach you to be more careful. Huh. Prize winning journalist indeed. Can't even get proper evidence without making yourself sick. Stupid, stupid, stupid…"
**
In his deep sleep, Clark dreamed.
He dreamed of his early days with the Kents, learning about human habits and customs and ways of dress. He didn't remember anything about where he came from, but he did recall that the way humans dressed seemed very odd to him when he first arrived. He dreamed of the sense of pride he got as a child when he could help his dad with the heavy stuff, and the wonder of learning that he could defy gravity and fly. So far, flying was still his favorite power. He dreamed of the friends he had made and of the people he loved and cherished- his mom and dad, Lex, Pete, Lana, and…Chloe. With her, his dream took a new, odd turn. He was floating in some green gooey stuff. It felt sticky and somehow bad, but didn't actually stick to him.
Looking around in the half awake curiosity of sleep, Clark noticed a tiny figure in the distance. She appeared to be standing on nothing, and was gesticulating wildly. As he went closer, he could see that she was yelling also, but to nothing in particular. In fact, there didn't seem to be anyone else but them in this place. And the woman hadn't seemed to have noticed him yet. As he drew closer, the woman turned around with her shoulders slumped, muttering to herself. Clark would have been interested in why she was calling herself stupid, but as the woman turned around he noticed her features.
"Chloe?"
"CLARK!!"
Chapter 6
Chloe stopped her mad rush towards him and eyed him suspiciously. "You're not all immaterial like the last you was, are you," she asked what appeared to be Clark standing in front of her.
He looked at her with a quizzical expression on his face. "The last me? I don't know what you're talking about Chlo. Now," he said, and then reached out and swept her into a hug. "God I missed you," he said into the top of her head, holding her tight.
That reminded her. "Clark," she said, pulling away just enough to look up at him, "What's going on? Where is my body? Where is this? Why am I here?"
He looked down on her, a hesitant expression on his face. "No one knows what's wrong with you. Your body is at Metropolis General, in a coma. All of the doctors think that you won't wake up. Chlo, they said the longer you stay in a coma, the less chance there is for you to wake up. I can't lose you!" He was really distressed now, and it shone clearly on his face.
She grinned a little at him. "Well, I can help on a little bit- I think I know why I'm sick," she said.
"Really?"
"Yeah," she said, "remember the Marshall farm? How there were all of those weird sightings?"
Clark winced. "I remember how sick that place made me," he replied.
**Yeah, gotta remember to ask him about that one,** she thought as she continued. "Well, I went back after you went home sick, and I took a couple of samples. Remember how I figured out that it was a chemical reaction of the mixed water and meteor rocks?" seeing his nod, she said with a chagrined expression on her face, "when I took the samples that I used to figure this out, I accidentally got the water all over my hands. And instead of doing something intelligent, like wiping my hands on a towel which I would then burn, I wiped my hands on my jeans, pulled my hair back, and then I used my contaminated hands to make myself lunch. So somehow the meteor rocks must have gotten inside me, specifically inside my head."
Looking around curiously, Clark asked, "So do you think that the meteor rocks are the reason that everything is this color green?" adding to himself, **it's the color they turn when they're near me.**
She nodded, laying her head back onto his chest. She mumbled to his shirt, "Okay, now we know why, but we don't know how to fix it. What'll we do?!"
"I don't know Chloe, I don't know." Suddenly, he felt a tug at his consciousness. Crap. Someone must be trying to wake him up. He wasn't sure how he knew this, but he did. "Chloe, I have to go now. Keep strong, I will do whatever I can to get you out of here." Over her protests, he looked at her and said, "No, Chlo, listen to me. I HAVE to go. I can't stay. I promise I'll be back for you. But for now, go within yourself. This is your mind, so you should have a little bit of control, somewhere. Maybe start with trying to make the color change. Just go within...."
His voice faded as he faded out of existence, and Chloe was once again left alone. Looking around at the exasperating green stuff, she decided to take the positive view on things. "Well, blob," she said whimsically, "It's just you and me again. Go within, huh?" She 'sat' down and crossed her legs, and said to herself, "Well, I guess I should get to work. Go within? Hmmm...."
Chapter 7
As Gabe Sullivan walked into Metropolis General for the umpteenth time in the last week, he sighed. He was very tired, from staying with Chloe late into the night and then driving home to clean up and go to work, after which he would drive back to Metropolis, and the hospital. The nurses had gotten to know him and Clark by sight. As he walked down the hallway that Chloe's room was on, he saw Clark's mother Martha sitting outside the door. As he approached her, he noticed the slump to her shoulders as she leaned over and rubbed her face with her hands.
"Hello Martha," he greeted as he walked up, "how are you today?"
She smiled wanly at him. "Fine, thank you. They're asleep," she added quickly, seeing his intent to go into the room.
"Okay, I'll just go in and check on her. Maybe after, we can go down to the dining hall and get something to eat. You look bushed." He said this as he walked in, not noticing Martha's anxious expression.
What he saw when he entered caught him flat-footed. Instead of Clark sitting next to the bed holding Chloe's hand, and Chloe lying in the bed, he found Clark's large frame crammed into the bed next to his daughter, his arms wrapped around her and one of his legs overlapping hers. The boy was asleep, with a slight smile on his face. Not trusting himself, he turned on his heel and went back out. He saw Martha standing outside the door with an anxious expression on her tired face.
"Now Gabe," she started, but he cut her off in a terse, low voice.
"You knew about this?"
"Well, yes," she said, with an apologetic smile, "I thought it was kind of sweet."
"Sweet? You call your son climbing into bed with my daughter sweet?!"
"Gabe," said Martha in a borderline irritated voice, "You know very well that Clark and Chloe are best friends and that Clark wouldn't do a thing to hurt her. For all you know, he could have done that because she was calling out to him. Now, I would understand if we found them together like that in a bedroom somewhere, but here it's harmless. Give Clark a little credit before you go off on him."
Taking her reasoning to heart because he was just too tired to argue, and he saw what she was saying, his shoulders slumped in resignation. "Fine, Martha, I see your point. But can we at least wake him up so I can see how my little girl is doing and have our daily talk?" He knew it was dumb, but Gabe had taken to talking to his girl when he came to visit, telling her about his day and what was going on at home. He also knew that she wouldn't hear it, but it gave him comfort to pretend that she was listening intently.
He walked into Chloe's tiny room with Martha, who got a slightly misty smile on her face when she saw the sleeping teens. Walking over to the bed, he reached out and shook Clark's shoulder. Getting no response, he shook harder.
"That won't work Gabe," said Martha suddenly, "He sleeps like the dead. Clark honey," she called softly at him, "it's time to get up. C'mon Clark, up and at 'em. You'll be late," she added for emphasis, causing Clark's eyes to snap open, though there was no lucidity in them. She looked at Gabe, apologetic once again. "The only way to wake him up is to tell him that he's going to be late for school. I haven't figured out any other way to do it."
As soon as Clark snapped away from the dream plane into the real world, his eyes opened and focused on his mom. **If she woke me up, how is she standing all the way over there? I could swear that she was shaking me** he though to himself, realizing slowly that his mom was looking almost pleadingly at someone standing on the other side of the bed, behind him. Lifting his head and shaking it a bit to clear it, he looked around. And gulped as he realized that a really pissed off looking Mr. Sullivan was standing there. "Hi, Mr. Sullivan," said Clark weakly.
"Hello, Clark," said Gabe in a serious voice. "Are you comfortable?"
This was a loaded question. "Uh, yes," said Clark, guardedly, "She looked cold, so…" He trailed off.
"Well, Clark," continued Gabe in the serious voice that, for some reason, made Clark extremely nervous, "I would like some time alone with my daughter, if you wouldn't mind."
"Uh, no," stammered Clark, "I'll go ahead and leave." He made to get out of the bed, then realized how entangled he and Chloe were. "That's funny," he said, brow furrowed in consternation, "I laid down next to her. I didn't curl up like this, and her head definitely wasn't this close to me," seeing Gabe's expression darken a little, he took the smart way out and stopped talking. Carefully disentangling himself from Chloe, he got out of the bed and then walked slowly out of the room with his mom, but not before placing a gentle kiss on Chloe's forehead. He didn't notice how Gabe's expression softened at this small gesture.
Once out in the hall, he turned to his mom. "Why was he angry at me? I was only trying to warm Chloe up. She felt so cold, and I felt I needed to take care of her, and that was the only way I could think of, besides calling a nurse, and they don't need to be bothered by something as stupid as getting more blankets for a comatose teenager, and…"
"Clark, honey," interrupted Martha, "It's okay. I understand, and I think that Mr. Sullivan does too, as much as he doesn't like that his little girl is all grown up and has friends that are boys that find Chloe attractive. It will be fine, just don't push it. And, Clark," she said, noticing his relieved and almost happy expression, "Behave yourself, understand?"
He sobered immediately. "Yeah, Mom, I will. I never expected things to happen like this, ya know? This caught me completely by surprise. Geez," he said bitterly, shaking his head, "how stupid am I, to have this beautiful girl right in front of me and not notice?"
"Not stupid, Clark," said Martha, "Just clueless. Like most guys on this planet. And yours, apparently." She said this with a smile, and was relieved to see the beginnings of a smile on his face in return. "Now, why don't we go and get something to eat while Gabe is talking to Chloe?"
"Sure, mom," said Clark eagerly. "Maybe something from McDonald's?"
She laughed at the puppy dog expression on his face. "Fine, Clark. Whatever you feel like."
Chapter 8
Gabe looked at his daughter as Martha and Clark left the room. She was still lying in that hospital bed, looking fragile and tiny. The normally boisterous bright girl that he loved wasn't evident anywhere. He sighed heavily as he sat down in the chair next to the bed that Clark usually occupied. "Hi, honey," he started, his voice cracking a bit with strain and fatigue. "How are you today? The doctors told me that you hadn't changed at all, but it's always nice to come and see for yourself. Today at work Mr. Luthor asked about how you were doing. Said Pete told him all about you when he asked where Clark had disappeared to. He sent you flowers," he said, gesturing at the beautiful bouquet of lilies on the table across the room. "Said it was the best he could do. He also gave the whole plant raises today. It wasn't a lot, but think, honey, about what we could do with that little bit of extra money!! We could save it and use it to work on the bathroom, remodel the old one, maybe put in a new one just for you!
"Oh honey, you need to wake up. I don't know what I would do if you left me. Work is okay, but Earl from the plant- remember him? Big guy, always used to sneak you those caramel candies you liked so much? - Earl, he said that I had been working too hard, and that I was gonna kill myself soon if I didn't slow down. Without you, I have no one to make sure I eat something besides pizza at least once a week, no one to make sure that I match as I walk out the door to work, no one to keep me from taking too much overtime at the plant. Without you, honey, I have no one to keep me alive. I love you so much. When I walked in on Clark sleeping in your bed, my first thought was that you two are too young for those things. But you're not, are you. You've grown up. You're not my little girl anymore, as much as I would like you to be. I miss you," he said, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and threatening to spill over. "Oh, geez," he said, covering his eyes with one hand as he gave a watery laugh, "I haven't let myself cry this whole time because I firmly believed that you were going to get better. You were just going to suddenly snap out of it one day, and be all right. But the doctors… well, honey, they told me that the longer you stayed asleep like this, the less chance there was for you to wake up. So wake up, honey. You need to wake up…" at that moment, the tears overflowed and Gabe welcomed the emotional relief- all the while holding tight to his daughter's hand. He let the tears fall silently for an indeterminate amount of time, until his mind was directed elsewhere by the sounds coming from the machinery hooked up to Chloe. Because while he had been crying, something had changed. And he could only stand and watch helplessly as the doctors and nurses rushed into the room in response to the multiple alarms that were ominously blaring.
Across town, Clark suddenly stopped chewing on his French fry. Something felt… wrong. Ominous. Like something was about to change for the worse. And there was nothing he could do about it…
Chapter 9
Chloe was still floating. And she was getting tired of it. She had been sitting here, patiently, for an eternity. She had tried to go within, and had failed, so she had resorted to ordering the impassive green stuff around. She told it to change color, then to show her Clark again. Then, she decided that she needed amusement, so she decided to try other commands on the green stuff. Such as, "Sit!" and "Stay!" and "Heel!" with an occasional, "GOOOD green stuff!" thrown in.
Yes, she, Chloe Sullivan, was getting bored. Very bored. And when she got bored, she got silly. And impulsive. And Mmmmm, she and Clark could do anything here without parents. And, for that matter, probably without consequences. Which led to her imagining Clark without a shirt. Which led to other things that she had sworn to herself not to think about.
**Okay. Get back on topic.**
"Well, Sullivan," she said out loud, just to break the silence, "let's give this another try, shall we?" With that, she once more sat down with her legs crossed and assumed a meditative pose. She closed her eyes and imagined a white room, completely seamless and bare, a place that no thoughts or sounds or images could pop up. She had used this technique to help her fall asleep after her mom had died- she had not been able to sleep because she kept imagining a string of actions she could have taken to save her mom, keep her from dying. Those thoughts had kept her awake, trembling, until all hours of the night, until she had found this way to quell them. This time, instead of seeing the usual stark white room, she pictured a green amorphous place, exactly like where she was right now. In her mind's mind's eye- **Oooohh, is that one a mind- bending concept, or what?**- she saw the green blob changing to purple. With bright yellow spots. She concentrated on this image for a long time, until something clicked in her head. She felt something change, an indescribable feeling but there nonetheless. Cautiously opening her eyes, she grinned and clapped with glee. For, lo and behold, her surroundings were now bright purple with bright yellow spots.
Somehow knowing how to change things now, she quested around with her newly awakened mind. With a thought from her, the blob began to rapidly flicker in different colors: prupleblueredyellowbrownblackredpinkwhitegreenblueorangepinkyellowpurple. On and on. Finally settling on Purple, Chloe began to quest through the whole of the place she was in. If she unfocused her mind just so, she could feel her whole mind. Kind of cool, that. She could feel herself, somewhere near the middle of the place, and she could feel the edges of the thing.
Questing around, she felt the edges, finding that she was, essentially, in the exact middle of a big giant sphere, something that resembled a drop of water. The "edges" felt like a skin of some type, a flexible skin that contained all that was held within.
Including her.
God, she hated puzzles. Like, how to pop the "skin" and get out. Exhausting her mental self momentarily, she returned to her mind/body and looked around. The emptiness and expansiveness of the blob remained, but it felt… different somehow. This was getting frustrating to her journalist's mind, not being able to describe what was happening. She was a wordsmith at heart, and this was killing her. She wouldn't be able to explain anything to Clark!
After resting for a time (she still didn't have any awareness of time, beyond the fact that it was passing), she decided to try again. Expanding her mind's mind, she was once again able to feel the edges of the blob she was in. She leaned back and studied the problem for a while, then decided to concentrate on one particular spot and try to break through. She formed her mental self into a pointy- feeling shape, then reared back and speared as hard as she could at the boundary.
She bounced back so hard, her mind/body tumbled backwards- even though she was sitting. Sitting up and rubbing her forehead, she said to herself, "Well, I can see THAT won't work."
After resting her now- pounding mind/head, she decided to try a new tactic. This time, instead of concentrating on one particular spot, what if she expanded herself and kind of pushed against the whole thing? Then, maybe the blob would be pushed past its limit and would burst- freeing her in the process. As she let her mind's mind expand for the second time, she also caused herself to expand, to flatten out almost- except she was at all points in the sphere. It was kind of weird, actually. She knew that she was 3D, but she felt stretched out flat. It was an odd twisty feeling. Even though that was technically a contradiction. Shaking her head and bringing herself back to the task at hand, she tentatively pushed at the barriers containing this blob that she hated. So wrapped up in pushing and making sure she was pushing evenly, she didn't notice the blackness that was encroaching on the blob, pushing through the crack that were forming in the blob, spiking through the bright purple that Chloe had changed it to, spiking and snaking towards her, to wrap around her.
Finally, the bubble popped with a weird cracking sound. Chloe was elated for an instant, before she realized that the darkness had completely enveloped her, and that she was sinking, sinking, sinking into a depthless sea of black. And somewhere, instinctually, she knew that if she allowed herself to continue in her downwards spiral she would not be able to come back up. But there was seemingly nothing that she could do about it. Her last lucid thought was of Clark, and of how she had failed him.
Chapter 10
Hurry hurry hurry hurry hurry hurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurry…. Clark's mind chanted over and over as he impatiently tapped his foot on the floor of the car. He knew his mom was driving as fast as she could back to the hospital, after he had told her that something felt wrong, but he still didn't feel it was fast enough. He had to physically grip the door handle of the car to not jump out and super-speed his way back to the hospital. Finding out be damned, he had to get to Chloe. His mom kept shooting him worried glances as they went, as if she could feel the self restraint that Clark was imposing on himself, but she wisely bit her lip and said nothing about it.
When they arrived at the hospital, Clark had an even harder time not super- speeding his way up to Chloe's room. He did go at a normal run, however. What he saw when he got there made his knees weak, causing him to stop abruptly and hang on to the nearest solid object. The doctors were trying to revive Chloe. As he looked wildly around, he saw the little machine that monitored her heart rate- it was beeping sporadically and quietly. That couldn't be good. And it stopped beeping altogether a few minutes later, at which point the doctors tried to restart her heart. And a few minutes later, after no success, they stopped trying.
***
Chloe was floating, in a stupor from the exhaustion that had claimed her after breaking the bubble. She had tried- oh, how she had tried- to put up a fight, but that futile fight had taken the last of her strength. She felt a jolt and somehow knew that she was back in her real body, but she couldn't do anything but lie there passively as her mind raced.
Obviously, she had succeeded in what she wanted to do but had failed to survive it. Her mind protested with this, keeping up a running commentary on what was going on. **Hey, I'm still here! What are you going to do with that evil- looking piece of machinery? Ahhhh! That hurt! You know, I'm still here, I just need to rest for a little bit. Then I can wake up and Clark will be there and we will live happily ever after, and have a little house and 2.5 children… what are you doing? Why are you walking away like that? Dead?! What the hell are you talking about? I'm right here! All I need is some sleep! Clark! Clark!! You can see me, you can hear me, tell them that I'm STILL HERE!! CLARK!!!!** In an action borne of desperation, she pushed herself out of her body and floated over to Clark, who was staring despondently off into space and ignoring her entirely. She stamped a diminutive foot on the air, then threw up her hands. Well, then, she'd just have to go and take that nap and show them all when she woke up. She wanted desperately to make Clark realize that she was there, but she was too tired to try to get the idea through his thick skull.
As she returned to her body, however, the sleep that she felt that she needed would not come. Instead, she laid there and watched as Clark's face held hope, then despair. She felt sad for him, sad that he didn't know the truth of the thing, sad that they wouldn't ever have the joy of dating and having a future together, one where Chloe knew all of his secrets and he knew all of hers. And, in her mind, she wept the tears that her body was no longer capable of. She was a completely live soul in a dead body. And that sucked, big time.
***
The only thought that tumbled, over and over and over in Clark's head: **It can't be. It can't be. It can't be.** Pieces of thoughts swirled through his head, protestations to the cruelness that was fate. Only a few hours ago, he had been next to her and sleeping content and talking to her in the dream plane, telling her that everything would be all right. That she was strong, that she could overcome this thing, whatever manifestation of Kryptonite it was. He felt lost, his soul felt like it was being sucked down into a black void, a confusing swirling black and purple and green whirlpool that he was rapidly drowning in. He had told Chloe that he would be completely lost without her, and lost he was.
In a last resort to save himself, he walked slowly and haltingly over to the bed that held a now- lifeless and cold Chloe. No, not Chloe. But it still looked so achingly like her that it tore at his heart. He was lost and she was cold and everything was wrong with the world and Chloe could always make it right and he needed to be as close to her as possible, so he needed, he needed…. He was lost in an ocean of need, and he did the only thing that his scattered mind could think to do.
Carefully, he once more climbed into that bed next to her and wrapped her limp form into his arms, huddling close to her in order to warm her up, bring her back to life. In the back of his mind, he knew that it was futile, but the irrational grief- stricken childish side of him quelled that voice with a ferocity that surprised even him.
Then, he put his head next to Chloe's and gazed at her face, willing her to come back and to be with him again, to give him direction, as a worried Gabe Sullivan and a cautiously hopeful Martha Kent looked on.
"Chlo," he whispered, barely more than breath passing his lips, "Chlo, you can't be gone. I love you too much, Chlo. I know… you have to be there, Chlo. You just have to. There isn't any other way for me to live, than with you. I love you too much, I love you too much, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you… I have always loved you, Chlo. Always. And I always will if you come back to me. Please come back to me, Chlo! Please!!" His voice breaking, he suddenly pulled Chloe's body into a tight embrace and squeezed his eyes shut. With a desperation borne of the slightest hope, he threw his soul out and into the void he could sense inside of her. He was somehow suspended between the real world and Chloe's soul, but he could feel her there, the tiniest of tiny threads, all golden and lovely and Chloe. And with all of the might he could muster, he grabbed at that thread with his very being. And hoped that, somehow, Chloe would sense it was him and grab back.
Chapter 11
Chloe was there, in the blackness, waiting for… she didn't know what. She did, however, know that whatever- it- was needed to come soon, or she would be gone. She was slowly getting colder, bearing the point that she would not be able to warm up again, no matter what she did. She clung to herself in this void, and hoped.
Suddenly, she saw something. A light, a shimmer, she couldn't think of what it was. She couldn't describe it, but she knew, somehow, that it was what she had been waiting for. She felt, in the back of her being, the grab that this welcome shimmer made. And with the last of her strength and all of her being, Chloe Sullivan grabbed back.
*
To Martha and Gabe, it seemed that Clark had fallen silent after he had fiercely hugged Chloe. What Martha was seeing, she didn't know, but she somehow knew that it was Clark's last ditch effort to get Chloe back, despite the fact that she had been declared dead a couple of minutes ago. Gabe only saw a distraught teenager that was trying vainly to bring his dead daughter back to life. Dead daughter. Oh, God, his daughter was dead. He staggered with the realization, clinging to Martha when she drew him into an embrace of sorrow.
And suddenly, she was there. Chloe's back arched as she drew in a huge breath, then settled and opened her eyes. Clark opened his as well, and both of the adults' eyes filled as they witnessed the reunion between the young ones. Gabe stood there, astonished, as Martha called for a doctor. And watched, not even protesting, as Chloe and Clark lay there, foreheads pressed together, staring into each other's eyes.
Epilogue
Chloe Sullivan stood at her locker for the first time in two weeks. As she stood there, she scanned the crowded halls for Clark and Pete. As they walked up to her, Chloe's racing train of thought piled up, as usual. Same as before her… illness. But there was a difference. Now, she didn't have to curb her impulses. Now, she could reach up and run her fingers through Clark's hair, without hesitation. And she did, reveling in the softness of it as he bent down to give her a quick kiss. Ever since she had woken up, Clark had not left her side for more than a few hours, and that was just to go home and sleep and do his chores. The Kents understood the bond between Chloe and Clark, but they drew the line at Clark's staying over- they were teenagers, and they were dating. Best not tempt fate.
"And how are we feeling this morning?" asked Clark playfully.
"We are doing just fine, thank you," she replied happily. "Actually, I have a new story I want to investigate. Apparently, the trees have legs over on the south side of town…"
~Fin~