AN: I don't know how long this series will last. It's not really a main priority, but it'll still be a fun experience to write something different from what I've done before.
Warnings: There is a chance of possible OOC.
Disclaimer: Don't own Smallville, Clark Kent, Martha Kent, kryptonite, or anything else mention besides any original characters and the plot.
Mood-Setting-Songs: Car Underwater- Armor For Sleep; The First Day Of My Life - Bright eyes
Part One
Clark sat in the waiting room, trying to be patient until he could finally go see his friend again. Chloe, Clark's long time friend, had been shot in the right shoulder whilst trying to protect Clark's secret. So there Clark sat, by himself in the waiting room of Smallville Medical Center, feeling completely helpless.
Martha Kent, Clark's mother, had left with the excuse that she couldn't sit still. "I'm just going to go for a walk. You can come with if you'd like," she offered but Clark refused, saying that he could use the time to sit and think. You see, Clark has been trying to figure out his relationship with Lana Lang for months and months now, but he just couldn't seem to make any sense of it.
"Just don't touch me, I can walk on my own," a harsh voice brought him out of his stupor. He looked to the source of the voice to see a girl with two nurses on either side of her. She had a very determined look to her, her arms down at her sides with long, delicate fingers clenched tightly into fists. Her breathing was labored as she lifted one leg and stepped forward. As soon as she put her weight on it again, she collapsed and the nurses caught her before she hit the ground.
She swore loudly a few times and squeezed her eyes shut, taking deep breaths. Clark could hear the nurses trying to calm her and convince the girl to start making her way back to her room.
The girl had white blond hair that had big chunks dyed black and purple; it was pulled back into a messy ponytail and still hung almost to her elbow. She was short and thin, almost feeble looking, but she had an air of confidence and independence about her. Clark was shocked to find out that he knew her (or at least knew of her), but he found that he was staring at her only after she made eye contact and glared daggers at him. He smiled but she sighed, her brow crinkling in either disappointment or anger as her eyes moved to the floor ahead of her as the nurses led her out of sight.
"I'm sorry about her," a girl's voice said from next to Clark, startling him slightly. He turned to see a woman that looked just like an older version of the girl he'd just seen, except her hair was light brown.
"She's my younger sister. They expect too little of her, she says, so she gets frustrated when they doubt her." the woman explained, and Clark nodded in understanding.
"What's your name?" Clark asked, and the woman laughed, brushing a piece of honey brown hair from her eyes before holding out her hand for me.
"Valerie Aubert. My sister is Millie," she stated, and Clark shook her hand, introducing himself as well.
"Clark Kent. Millie goes to Smallville High, right?"
"Who do you know that's here, Clark?" she nodded, then asked kindly, and Clark smiled sadly.
"My friend Chloe. She was in Suicide Slums yesterday for work and she got mugged and the attacker shot her. In the shoulder."
"That's terrible! Oh my god, is she okay?"
"She was awake earlier, but it was only for a minute. Doctors say she's going to be okay, but that she really just needs her rest."
"That's good. I think it's obvious that I'm here for Millie. She was in a car accident last year, hit head on by a drunk driver. She was wearing her seatbelt, and still she was thrown through the sunroof a hundred feet. I guess she was lucky that she avoided being landed on, if lucky is the right word for it. She was in a coma for eighty one days, and it's been hell since then, but she's getting much better," Valerie explained, and Clark listened in silent shock. He remembered hearing about the accident on the news and around school. He even signed a big 'get-well-soon' card from the entire junior class for Millie, but he never really talked to her. Clark had no idea that what had happened was so terribly horrific.
"Well, it's safe to say I'm very glad that she's improving," Clark stated, and Valerie nodded grimly.
"Her personality definitely hasn't changed a bit, except for the fact that she's much more irritable than she used to be. The doctors say if things continue the way they are, she'll regain full mobility in her legs and someday she can drive again and carry on with a somewhat normal life."
"Yeah, Chloe gets into a lot of trouble. She's a journalist, so she's got to be nosy for the job. It costs her a lot sometimes, but she still does it because she loves it," Clark felt better being able to talk to someone so freely. It was a strange sensation, especially because he'd never met this girl before, and already they were sharing their hurt.
"I'd like to meet your friend some day," Valerie decided, and Clark grinned.
"Likewise, I'd love to get a chance to talk to Millie. She sounds like a wonderful person."
Valerie nodded, shifting her gaze to the floor.
A nurse came out smiling and looked toward Valerie.
"Ms. Aubert? Millie would like to see you."
"Well Clark, I suppose I'll be seeing you around," she smiled at Clark, before standing and following the nurse until he could see them no longer.
Millie's POV
"Why the hell were you talking to Clark Kent?" I demanded as soon as Val walked through the door. My nurse, Hailey, gave me stern look before injecting some sort of medication into my I.V. and leaving the room.
"He's a sweet kid, Mil. Have you ever even spoken to him?" she asked, and I growled.
"I've spoken a total of fifteen words to the guy! He's a country bumpkin, Valerie. And why is he here in the first place? Does he just creep around hospital's watching the disabled and pretending to feel bad?"
"His friend was shot in Suicide Slums yesterday," Val said in one of her know-it-all tones. I instantly felt like a jackass, and it must have shown, because Val grinned and rested her hand on top of mine.
"Aww, does Millie-Willie feel bad about what she said?""I had no idea," I said defensively, and she chuckled.
"Did you call me in here just to nag me about young mister Kent? Or was there something else?"
I sighed, my legs swinging back and forth over the edge of the bed.
"I want to go home, Valerie. I'm tired of this hospital and all the way-too-cheery nurses I get stuck with. Because really, there's nothing to be cheerful about."
"Emilie, I know you want to come home, but you're only two weeks into your physical therapy."
"I can come back every day for it. I just want to sleep in my own bed, in my own room, in our house." I was starting to tear up, and Valerie noticed like always, because she wrapped her arms around me. I didn't return her hug, because it reeked of sympathy, and I was not having that.
When she pulled back, I stared at her and she looked at me with a mixture of pity and hurt in her eyes.
"Just go," I said, and she moved back slowly. I looked away from her, making it obvious I was done with her, and she left quickly, sniffling slightly. I heard that deep, average voice ask her what was wrong from down the hall, and seconds later he was visible through the window, then in the doorway, standing there in his jeans and blue t-shirt that he always seemed to be wearing.
"What? Come to tell me how sorry you are for what happened?" I snapped, but he didn't look phased at all. I couldn't believe his nerve. Clark Kent, for those of you who don't know, is a total farm boy. He works on his father's farm milking cows and fixing stuff, and then he comes to school and hangs out with that girl that runs the Torch. Oh, and the worst of it is, he can always be found drooling over Lana Lang, his sometimes girlfriend. It was sick. Lana was perfect; long sleek hair, emotional green eyes, perfect body. There was one thing that was obvious; Lana Lang had a life full of tragedy. Her parents were killed in the meteor shower, and then her boyfriend was killed fighting over-seas. I never had anything against Lana, though. It was just the way all of the guys threw themselves helplessly at her feet, Clark Kent included.
"No. I came to see if you were alright because your sister looked upset. Everything okay?' he asked, taking a seat in the chair next to my bed.
"Far from it, actually. Thank you for asking," I clenched my jaw, and he nodded, pursing his thick pink lips. There was no denying that Clark Kent was attractive. He had the whole sculpted-cheeks-and-square-jaw model face, sun-kissed skin and dark hair, not to mention his surprisingly muscular build. Though I guess that's the reward for working on a farm all day.
"I realize that we don't really know each other at all, but sometimes that makes it easier to talk. And I've got time to listen," he told me gently, and I sighed, looking at his face for a long moment.
"Have you ever been in a serious accident, Clark?" I asked him, and he shook his head, before I continued.
"It's the most terrifying, horrible thing that a person can go through. I remember seeing the headlights flash into my lane too late, and I remember my chest being crushed by the seatbelt, and I could feel the car tip forward and start to flip. I can still hear the metallic screaming of metal being crushed and the loud pop of glass shattering while I was airborne for what seemed like forever. And when I hit the ground, I could feel my leg break and my head crunched against the gravel on the side of the road and the sound my body made when it smacked into the pavement reminded me of dropping a pillowcase full of books from a second-story window. It all happened very quickly, but it felt like it dragged on and lasted forever," my voice was trembling by the time I made it half-way through the story, and Clark's eyebrows were pulled together in a hard line, his jaw tight.
"It's a hard thing to recover from. I still can't walk on my leg, but I'm getting better. So in that sense, I guess I am okay. But emotionally? Not for years and years to come, I think," I sighed, looking down at my hands.
"Well, let's get off this depressing subject, then. What's your favorite movie?" Clark asked me, and I was silently relieved for the subject change. I thought for a long time, before deciding that I couldn't pick just one. Movies were one of my passions. I didn't watch them, I studied them. I also used to make them, but I haven't really been….able for a while.
"It's a tie between Pulp Fiction and East of Eden," I told him, and he looked surprised.
"East of Eden? My dad used to watch that when I was little," Clark stated, and I laughed once.
"It's a brilliant movie. James Dean is mostly known for 'Rebel Without A Cause' but in my opinion,
'East of Eden is his best film. Though he only made three," I added, and Clark again looked surprised.
"You know movies, don't you?" he narrowed his eyes slightly, and I smiled.
"I'm in love with everything that they portray and the way that they bring such strong emotions out of people. It's incredible," I shook my head slowly, awed just thinking about the profound impact films have had on me alone.
"I've only seen Pulp Fiction once. I remember there being a lot of blood," he half-smiled, and it made me laugh.
"That's because Quentin Tarintino likes blood a lot. As far as modern horror movie directors, he's at the top of the list when it comes to quality films. He's sitting up there with Robert Rodriguez and Eli Roth. Although Eli Roth is just an all around sick person sometimes," I cringed, thinking about Hostel and how it made me squirm.
"Wow," Clark said, and looked as if he were trying to find the right thing to say. I waited patiently as he stared at my hand, before he looked up and met my eyes.
"Okay, what about music?" he asked, and I grinned. If there was one thing that I loved to experience more than movie, it was music. And I know that everyone says music is their life, but that's because it's hard not to love music.
He studied my expression for a moment before laughing.
"I've released the floodgates, haven't I?"
I smiled at him, before asking, "I need a more specific question. You can't just say 'Tell me about music.' We'll be here for days," I laughed, and he nodded slowly.
"Top five favorite bands or artists," he decided, and I was quick to answer.
"Bright Eyes, Brand New, The Devil Wears Prada, DespairsRay, and Frank Sinatra. Although I don't know anyone who doesn't love Frank Sinatra.
"Out of all of those that you listed, he's the only one I've heard of," Clark admitted, and I wasn't really surprised. Bright Eyes was popular, sure, but they were still pretty indie. Brand New was kind of the same. I couldn't picture Clark the Farmer listening to The Devil Wears Prada, and DespairsRay is a Japanese metal band. Of course he'd only heard of Sinatra.
"It's understandable. You live on a farm. The only music you probably hear is on the radio," I smirked, and he frowned slightly.
"Now that's not necessarily true…okay, so it kind of is. I guess it's a good thing I'm talking to you then," he smiled wide, and my breath caught audibly in my throat. I had no idea how much that smile would change the way his face looked. Before he was handsome, but now, when he smiled, he was breathtaking, literally.
I was also the type of person to pay too much attention to facial details while I talked to someone, and I couldn't find one flaw on Clark Kent's face. His eyebrows were amazing, I've already mentioned his strong jaw and cheekbones, and his nose was long and straight. He had somewhat wide eyes, but they melded wonderfully with his face, and his lips were thick and kissable. It was the only way I could think to describe them.
I recovered quickly, though.
"You're right. It's a good thing you've got a music and movie obsessed new friend, because your music-and-film horizon is sorely in need of broadening," I grinned back, and he laughed quietly.
I was surprised to find that I got along wonderfully with Clark. He didn't act like a farm boy at all, compared to some of the guys I've talked to in this town. I used to live in Metropolis with my older brother, but he got a new job that required him to move a lot, so I came to live with Val here in Smallville. That was a few years ago, three I think, and I've grown somewhat attached to the small town, though I didn't blend in very well.
Another reason I was surprised by this is because we came from completely different worlds. He lived on a farm and I live in a little house close to downtown. He was raised by salt of the earth people and my parents abandoned me when I was eleven. They dropped me off at Val's so that she could baby-sit me while they went to dinner, and they never came back. The point was, Clark and I were opposites. If we stood next to each other, you'd probably think something like "Why is that nice boy there with that…interesting girl?". I looked like I had a rough childhood, and Clark looked nurtured and well-raised.
We talked for about another hour and a half, before he glanced at his watch and his eyes widened.
"It's already almost nine o'clock! I'm sorry Millie, I've got to go. Do you mind if I come visit you tomorrow?" he asked kindly, and I smiled.
"I'll be waiting," I laughed, and he smiled again. It made my stomach jerk and twist, but I hid it well.
"I'll see you tomorrow then," he stood up and put the chair back where it belonged, before waving to me as he left the room.
As if it wasn't weird enough that I'd actually spoke to Clark Kent for a good two hours, I also felt like if we continued to talk this much, I would be hopelessly infatuated with him before long.
I was an honest person, so it wasn't hard to admit to myself that I already liked Clark. If the time ever came that my feelings progressed to something more, I was quite sure that I could tell him and hope that he felt the same.
But there I go, getting ahead of myself.
Because how can anything more than friendship last when half of the relationship was laying in a hospital bed, unable to walk?
There would be no dates, no late night walks, no dances. Nothing.
So to answer my own question, it can't.
And it won't.