Title: "Hands…"
Author: Ottereel
Pairing: Clark and Beth, Chlollie, Lexana
Rating: M
Summary: AU, After Season 6. Clark is kidnapped and trying to survive his worst nightmare, tested in a lab, while his wife suffers at home.
Disclaimer: None of the Smallville characters belong to me, although Clark should ;), but the new characters are my creation.
Hot and Cold
Her hands were on me. I could feel the softness and warmth as they slid up and over my shoulders, across my collar bone and sensually down my chest. Every muscle in my body contracted and released in response to Beth's touch.
A moan escaped my throat when she climbed over me and her thighs pressed into mine. Her hair fell and tickled my chest as she arched her back and lowed down to her elbows.
With her warm breath caressing my neck and face, she brushed across my skin lightly with her silky lips.
I let my hands roam and was delighted with each new soft spot I found on her forearms, her upper arms, swollen from strain, her back and waist. I wanted to reach further but I waited in ecstasy as her lips pressed up on my jaw, my chin and finally my mouth.
I was already panting when her lips sealed with mine and we breathed heavily together, her soft amber hair falling like curtains on either side of my face. She inhaled harshly when my fingers caressed her silky and smooth breasts. I did the same when she pushed her fingers into my hair and her arm under my back as she settled all of her warm, naked weight onto my aroused frame.
The pressure was almost more than I could take, but I resolved to make this last and I tried to relax into everything; her breaths, her whines, and the slick suction she had on my tongue. Running my hands up her back, I deliberately tangled my fingers in her long silky hair and pulled her tight against my chest. She broke the kiss and opened her heavy eyes. Looking into her blue irises, I smiled just before rolling us both onto our sides.
I opened my mouth to breathe when a sharp pain ripped through my left leg. Groaning instead, I jerked back to see what happened.
"Clark, what's wrong?"
I could find nothing, but a distinct and familiar weakness was spreading swiftly up my leg and causing every muscle up to my hip to contract in excruciating pain.
"Clark?!" Her eyes widened in fear and she tried to comfort me.
I moaned and looked deeply into her eyes through the tears in my own, I had to make this moment last, I had to. "Beth!"
--
I can feel the cold steel under my bare skin even before I open my eyes. "No." I moan. And I shudder.
"Yes, sorry Clark. I didn't mean to disturb your, um, dream."
"Lana." I push my eyelids open to find my high school sweetheart standing beside me with an emotionless expression and an empty needle in her hand.
She eyes the sheet on my lap and smiles coolly. "It was time; you know the drill, honey."
Her silky voice does little to comfort me; the pain is overwhelming again and my limbs jerk without my permission against the restraints.
"You're going to tear your skin again, Clark." She reprimands.
I can feel her hand on my thigh right where she stuck the needle and I wince, "Errgh!" I whimper, "Why?" I hate showing her my weakness and I know her answer won't change, but my mind is beginning to drown again in waves of agony.
Hearing the needle clank on the cold metal tray, I watch her pick up and read the ever-present clipboard. "According to the plan," she focuses on me for a second, "and you know this already," she glances down again. "Tests must be performed at regular intervals on alternating fields."
My chest hiccups in pain, "You, you make me s-sound like a video guh- game."
She clicks her pen open and adds notes to my chart, "That's good, sense of humor is still intact."
Encouraged by her mood, I wonder if begging might work this time. "Lana, ple-ease," I cough out as I tilt my head to catch her attention.
It seems to work; she reaches past her clipboard and smudges a runaway tear from my cheek. Her eyes soften, "Oh Clark, I wish you'd quit fighting the serum. It doesn't help your pain level."
I jerk my face away from her hand and feel a sarcastic smirk stretch my lips as I try not to wretch up the nothingness in my stomach. "So, if I pump- pumped acid 'nto your veins, w- would you lay back and re-lax? C- cause I can't control my bo-, my body's reaction to poison." I raise my shackled hands and feet for dramatic effect.
No response, but I can hear her high heels clack on the concrete floor and I know she's leaving my room. I'm grateful she doesn't stay to watch me suffer. I don't know who she is anymore and I can't concentrate on her with Kryptonite jacking its way through my system. Focusing on the dirty ceiling panel above, I listen to my own labored breaths and groans fill the void.
And I wait for the pain to knock me out.
"P- please."
--
to Assist
"Thanks for coming, Chloe." I open the kitchen door and my arms to Clark's best friend in the world.
"Yeah," she pulls out of my arms and glances around the house as she walks in, "It's a good thing you caught me before I left for work. So," she focuses on me again. "How long did you say he's been gone?"
"Last night was the second night. And I wasn't too worried the first night because there have been times when he's been too busy with some catastrophe that he can't just stop and call me. But when," Words fail me and my hands fly up, showing my frustration.
She finishes my sentence, "But when he doesn't show up or call on the second night, you begin to worry." She strokes my arms lightly, "Trust me, I know all about that feeling." She turns to the kitchen. "Where is his computer?"
"Dining room," I follow her to the warm maple table set and watch her sit down to Clark's open laptop. "I was hoping to find something about where he might be, but I'm not the computer whiz in this family," I wink at her.
She grins, showing her teeth, "Well, you called the right person!" Her eyes drop to the monitor as her fingers begin clicking away at the keyboard. "You didn't delete any emails or drafts did you?"
"You mean I can open his email?"
"I guess that answers my question." A knowing and teasing smile stretches her lips without her eyes ever leaving the monitor. "You both have email set up with the same S-Mail account, hon." She squinches her eyes slightly, "And I know for a fact that Clark never keys in his passwords, so the computer remembers for him."
Bumping her in the arm, I ask playfully, "And you know this, how?"
She shrugs and finally focuses on me, "I've been observing around here for a long, long time, Beth." She scans the documents she's found and shakes her head. "I can't see anything marked 'evil plot' or 'rescue mission' without reading into them more. Why don't you read over these and call me tonight on my drive home from work?"
"I can do that." I smile through my tension.
She nips at her thumbnail for a moment and then logs onto the internet. "Maybe the history will tell me… darn, there are only a handful of addresses here." She leans into the back of her chair, "No surprise, really, I'm sure Clark's experience with Dr. Virgil Swann and Lex Luthor taught him to clean up after himself."
I'm curious. "Okay, I'm barely keeping up with your techno-talk, Chloe, so maybe this is a stupid question. But, if he," I pause to rephrase, "why would he leave them this time? Do you think he got interrupted?"
"Hmm," Chloe's brows come up, "I get where you're going with that, if he's always so careful to delete, then why are these still here? Maybe," she clicks on the first address, "these are more helpful than we thought."
I read the first website. "World Watch? What is that?"
Chloe nods, "Yeah, I remember, the Daily Planet uses sources like this for its international columns. It's a subscription website that sends out news as it's happening, and judging by the news coming up two days ago, there's a lot going on around us." She snorts, "Geesh, there's a tragedy or attack of some kind in nearly every article on this page alone."
I rub the back of my neck, "Chloe, he's in those places, isn't he, helping those people?"
"I hadn't heard of these stories, but I'm not as savvy with international news as I should be. But knowing Clark and his history of going supersonic to play savior, it wouldn't surprise me." She closes the page, the laptop and heads to the kitchen for a refill. "It's just not like him to not tell either one of us what he's up to, especially when he's been gone like this for a few days." She fills her travel cup from my coffee pot and turns to me, her lip is caught under her upper teeth. "Is everything hunky dory between you two right now?"
--
to Treasure or Trash
Her hands were on me. Her red hair glistened in the sunshine as she bore her eyes into mine. Tears filled her blue eyes and she choked on her words, "Clark, just because I'm leaving this farm, doesn't mean you have to stay."
"But Mom,"
"Your father would never have wanted you strapped down here, either." She let go of my cheeks to dab her own. "He and I both knew you'd leave this farm someday. Your future is too big for this little piece of land."
"But this piece of land has been in our family for generations. I can't let go of it." I turned to survey the fields and outbuildings I'd grown up in. The years of memories warmed me until I pictured this farm empty. Things were definitely going to change.
Her hand was on my shoulder and I turned back to her. "But that doesn't mean you have to stay. With my job, we can afford to hire someone else to be caretaker," she focused on the beauty around us and absently continued, "Or we could rent the fields out; there are always men in need of work."
"Mom."
She drank in our surroundings and her eyes roamed slowly back to me.
"We can talk about this another time." I looked down at my watch. "You have a plane to catch and a hearing with your name on it." I faked a smile. I couldn't believe the emotion that was washing over me with her leaving. It seemed so final somehow.
Her hands were on my cheeks again. "I love you, Clark."
I hugged her tightly, burying my face in her shoulder, and breathed in the scents of her hair, her clothing, her love. "I love you, too, so much." Taking a breath, I pulled back and led her by the hand to her seat in the limousine. Leaning down to her open window, I reminded her, "Call me when you need a lunch buddy or something. You do remember I can be there in a flash, right?"
She nodded, but she couldn't speak over the tightness in her throat.
There was a tug on my arm and I turned.
--
My eyes open to find Lana pushing my restraint upward over my forearm, leaving my hand free. When she sees me awake, she jumps a little and her eyebrows come down in a hurry, "If you even twitch, Clark, I swear I'll pull the cord! You know I will!"
My vision is strong, so I lift my head to see what she is doing. Instantly, dizziness overwhelms me and I drop my head back to the table and slam my eyes shut. A heavy weakness spreads over me like a thick blanket and I know I couldn't fight her if I tried. I whisper, "S'okay."
"Try to be still this time, Clark, I'm gonna stitch these up," she sighs with a flare of irritation. "But I can still reach that cord."
"Stitch what?" I swallow hard and try to concentrate on her spinning image.
"Like you don't remember!" Something cold and wet runs across my wrist and I can feel a hot sting. When I don't respond, she looks up at me with concern in her eyes. "You do remember, don't you Clark?"
I don't know what she's talking about and I don't want to think about it either. Taking a deep breath, I let my head loll to one side.
"Clark? You remember why your wrists and ankles are cut, don't you?" Unable to let this go, she leans over me cautiously at first and then moves real close, her dark golden eyes boring into my subconscious, but I'm too tired to care.
"Doesn't matter." I look up to the ceiling and let my eyelids fall shut.
"Clark!" Her voice is louder and full of worry. "What's wrong, what are you feeling?"
With effort, I turn my head to look at her again and am disappointed to see she is holding a pen over my clipboard. I lift my head and look at the bloody scrapes on my left wrist and bark with little energy, "What do you expect? You have me captured here against my will… torturing me with poison... Did you think this lab rat wouldn't be affected somehow?!" Spit comes out on my last sentence, and I don't care.
She lifts her chin and I see nothing in her eyes; not a glimmer of love, mercy or emotion.
All thought flies from my mind when a needle pushes into my wrist, searing and burning. "Urgh!" Holding my breath, I try not to cry out as she tugs harshly and my skin tightens and bunches up. Stitches. After she works on that wrist and both ankles, I am too exhausted to hide the pain and I cry out with each stitch she laces into my other wrist.
My hair is damp from tears when she finally finishes; I can feel the cool moisture as my limbs throb in pain. "Okay, Clark, I'm done." I blink harshly to clear my eyes. Lana's long dark hair shines softly in the glow from the window as her hands work to re-secure my wrist.
I try to breathe deeply, but it's difficult as the ever-present Kryptonite on my restraints bleed into my system. "How long has it been?"
She hugs her clipboard and asks brightly, "Since what, you made me happy?"
I roll my head in frustration and regret it as the room swims again. Swallowing back bile rising from my throat, I choke out, "B- been here."
"Why, Clark?" Lana tosses her head dramatically and looks at me with smiling puppy-dog eyes. "Are you missing your sweet little wife?"
I always hated her sarcasm, but this time I am alarmed; I know nothing about Beth's situation. "Lana!" I growl out her name as angrily as I can muster. "You stay [i]away[/i] from Beth."
There's a look in her eyes at that, I can't decipher her reaction, but it quickly slides into a sly smile and her voice comes out slick. "You would be wise to forget about her, my handsome alien," her hand glides over my chest as she focuses on my lips, "you're all mine now."
How I ever fell for that false charm before I'll never know; I guess I am seeing 20/20 now. When she pulls away to leave, I call out to her weakly, "Where is she, Lana?" I need to know Beth is safe.
She focuses on her watch and then back at me, looking me right in the eyes. And she smiles, just a little. My spirits rise at the thought she's going to tell me. "Try to get some rest, I'll be back in about three hours to administer your next test."
I just stare back at her blankly, my mouth falling open in shock.
And that's it; her heels clack on the floor as she exits my room.
Looking up to the ceiling, I see Beth's big blue eyes smile at me in my head. Does she hate me for not being there? Does she think I'm dead? What is she doing right now? Is she okay? The thought of Lana causing her any trouble brings the bile back up.
Swallowing hard, I pull my chin down and look again at the metal cuff holding my wrist. There's a faint green glow coming from the top of the bracket; a glow that means I'm going nowhere. And I don't know how long it's been, but somehow the poison hasn't killed me yet.
I can't save Beth. I can't save myself. And I ache to roll onto my side to stretch or curl up for true rest. Depression washes over me, nearly drowning. I let my eyes close, finally, praying sleep will come quickly.
--
to Soothe
Her hands are on me. "He feels warm." I can feel her cool fingers pressing the monitor nodes tightly against my scalp, forehead and chest. I know what this means and I try to retreat to the dreams I was just thrust from. Concentrating, I realize that my dreams were not that great, either. Instead of comforting or even sexy, they were disturbing and scary. Images of weapons, angry faces and raging storms flashed brilliantly and violently, exhausting me more than I was before.
But what awaits me isn't any better.
I can't make my eyes open, but I'm instantly alert when I hear a new and familiar voice.
"Look at the monitor, Lana, his temperature is spiking!"
Lex? I have to see, to ask him to help me. Please. I'm too tired to wake up fully.
"And these stitches are pathetic!"
"Look, Lex, I'm not a doctor." Her voice is annoyed. "I'm not even a nurse. Not to mention having to work with his pitiful screams wailing through the room. It's SO grating." Her heels clack away and she barks from the far side of the room, "If you want a professional job, then get a professional or figure out a way to get him into the sunlight for awhile."
The door slams and I wonder if anyone is left in my room with me.
Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth to call out, to beg him. He has to help me, he was my friend once. But all that comes out is a low moan. Why can't I get more out? He'll never hear me.
A hand is on me. "It'll be alright, Clark. I'm going to take care of you."
At last. He's here to save me from Lana, he's going to help me. A sigh of relief leaves me and I lose my hold on consciousness.
--
Looking out the front window, I shiver slightly at seeing soft gentle snowflakes falling to the earth and I rub my hands up and down my arms. It's beautiful, just like inside a snow globe. Leaning my forehead against the cold plate glass, I bite my lip at the thought, "My world sure has been shaken up." Feeling pressure build up that will lead to another tension headache, I brush the tear streaks from my cheeks and drag my limbs to the kitchen for some tea.
As I fill the kettle with water, I can feel the pull, the need to look out the window again. "Please," I whisper, hoping to see him parking the tractor or moving up the back steps. Slamming the faucet off, I take a deep breath and raise my eyes to the window pane in front of me.
He's not there.
All that is moving outside are the cattle in the west field and Clark's favorite horse, Trixie, in the east. The animals seem frisky this morning, scurrying happily in the snowfall. Setting my kettle on the heat, I realize they just might be glad they have food and proper care again.
Two days after Clark disappeared, I called the neighbor and asked him to show me how to take care of the farm animals.
He arrived 10 minutes later, pulling his green pickup confidently into the driveway. He was all smiles with a black and royal blue scarf around his neck. "Evenin' Mrs. K-, um, Mrs…"
His smile vanished as he tripped over what to call me. "Mr. Jacobs, please call me Beth."
"Thank you, Beth, I will." The red tint to his cheeks dissipated as his lips widened. He tugged on his UK ballcap and tilted his head toward the main outbuilding. "So, Clark went off and left you here by yourself to tend the farm?"
"Um," I pinched my lips together to stem tears, Clark's absence was still fresh, I was still trying to understand the emptiness and abandonment. "He uh, you know Clark."
Mr. Jacobs laughed heartily, "That I do, that boy never did sit still long around here." He lifted the bill of his cap, "Shall we get started?"
Warmed by his lighthearted laughter, I nodded, "Yes, and thank you for coming to my rescue, Mr. Jacobs."
He turned and we both walked to the barn. "Aw, anything for Mrs. Kent and Clark, they're pillars…, oh, and now you, Miss Beth," his chin dropped and he blushed slightly, "anything."
Two days later, I sat frustrated on a short stool up against one of the particularly stinky and stubborn cows when Mr. Jacobs stepped into the barn, looking about. "Miss Beth, are you in here?"
I stood slowly, feeling my knees complain, and waved, "Over here, Mr. Jacobs."
His chin came up and his brows went down as he peered over the stalls. "Is there something wrong with that mama Guerns'?"
I wiped sweat from my forehead and sighed loudly, "No, sir, just trying to milk her."
He looked down at his watch and his eyes widened. "It's nearly 10:00, did you have trouble wrangling them in this morning?"
"No, sir, I've been milking them since 7:30." His head started shaking and I interrupted his next words. "I know, Mr. Jacobs," I could feel tears burning behind my eyes. "But they're so stubborn this morning… and fidgety…" My throat tightened and I couldn't say another word without bawling like that ornery cow, so I held my breath.
He popped his ballcap off his head and wiped his receding scalp with the same hand, I'm sure he thought I was off my rocker. "Are you finished, ma'am?"
I looked down at the whiny cow and nodded, "I think so."
He stepped closer and bent over to look down at her milk sack. "That'll do." He stood then and smiled at me. "Miss Beth, why don't you go inside and get some rest, you look a little peaked. I'll come by at 5:00 and take care of the second round, okay?"
"Second round?" I looked up at him as we walked toward the wide opening. "I was supposed to do this twice a day?"
There was a long pause before he spoke and when he did, I could tell he was restraining a smile for my benefit. "Miss Beth, I tell you what, I'll come by everyday that Clark is gone and take care of the animals for you, feed 'em, milk 'em, muck up after them, whatever needs to be done."
"No, sir," I turned to face him out in the brightness of the overcast morning, "that's too much to ask, you have your own farm to run." Another thought occurred to me, "And I couldn't repay you for that."
His palms came up to halt me, "I insist. If Clark feels the need to repay me, he can help me with the seed run this spring, but clearly you need the help."
I could feel my shoulders fall at the relief flooding through me. "I think he'd be agreeable to that, Mr. Jacobs." I smiled.
"That's better!" He turned his cap backward on his head and stepped back, gesturing energetically, "That smile is worth it all! Get some rest, Miss Beth." With that he turned and marched back into the barn.
The moment I stepped into the home my husband grew up in, I caught my image in the hall mirror and nearly gasped. "No wonder!" I dabbed at the dark circles under my eyes and pulled the headband out of my unruly cowhide-rubbed hair. Eager to fall into my bed, I glanced up the stairs and yawned. My heart was already pumping hard, so, changing my mind, I walked into the living room and curled up on the couch, instead.
The whistle of the tea kettle whisks me back to the present and I glance up to the calendar. Two and a half weeks. I've gone through every scenario I could think of, but this time my heart settles on the feeling I can't shake; Clark has left me.
--