Title: Morning Sickness
Author: Egyptian Sunrise
Rating: R (NC-17ish flashbacks)
Pairings: Chlark, Pete/Lana
Spoilers: Exile, AU season three and end of season two (so Clark and Chlo are 16, in this story since I forgot the birthdays on the show)
Warnings: Graphic sex flashbacks, teen pregnancy
Summary: All she had wanted was to bring him home. What she got was one blissful night with the boy she loved, before he had cast her out with a threat that he would disappear for good if she ever told where he was. She had left, in tears wearing only his shirt, determined to never breath a word of Clark Kent ever again…fate had other plans.
Feedback: I just want to thank everyone for the great feedback. This being my first Smallville fanfic, I'm just glad people are enjoying it. I will also be trying to update this at least once a week, as I am also working on three other stories. Two of them being Chlark, one I'm toying with the idea of a Clark/OC. So be on the lookout for:
Pasts Present- A time Travel Fic
Mishaps in Matchmaking- Chlark, Lana/Whitney (Already completed-just needs posting-lol)
Awakening- the Clark/OC
A/N: Also get ready for a surprise… you may actually like Lana; yeah I know it wasn't easy. But I've added a new pairing….Pete/Lana…if anyone could make her likeable. But that won't crop up for a while yet.
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of any recognizable characters, such as that of Elizabeth Webber, Jason Morgan, or Zander Smith. They are property of ABC's General Hospital. Nor do I own Breyers or Chips Ahoy.
Chapter Two:
Chocolate Chip cookies and Melted ice cream
Lana had been gone nearly an hour, and despite her anger, she couldn't help but worry. The Clark she knew would never hurt a fly, let alone the delicate pastel princess Lana Lang, but the man she had seen in Metropolis three months ago was haunted. Pete only confirmed that when he had confessed about Kent's baby, and how Clark had flown off the deep end. In true Clark Kent fashion he took full blame on his shoulders, and ran. Chloe cringed, as she remembered that wild look in her best friend's eyes when she had cornered him at Atlantis. She had only seen that look before-on Animal Planet- in the eyes of a wounded Gazelle on the Serengeti. No matter what he said, no matter what he called himself- Kal, Clark, or Godzilla- he was slowly drowning in his own anguish.
Chloe sighed, pulling her feet up onto the plush gray sofa.
Rubbing her socks across the microfiber, she shivered -hoping to warm her always-freezing feet- and hitching Gammy Sullivan's afghan higher and folding her legs. After her latest crying jag, she had drug herself to the kitchen. After such a traumatic day, and only one Grande Mocha-with a triple pump of chocolate- for breakfast, her nervous stomach was craving sugar. Which wasn't so odd, ever since Chloe was a little girl, she was a nervous eater. After her mother had skipped out, she had made her way through an entire carton of Mocha Madness ice cream and an entire bag of Oreos. When the General had been relocated to Germany, taking her cousins Lois and Lucy halfway across the world, she had eaten her weight in tortilla chips and salsa. The worst however came with their exile to Hicksville, depressed and livid Chloe had powered through two boxes of dried spaghetti and a jar of marina sauce. A nervous disorder she paid for dearly, as every pound seemed to fall right to her ass. Thankfully her nerves very seldom reached, that level.
Tonight however, was-not surprisingly- one of those nights. Not that it mattered anymore considering by winter she would be as big as a house and as cranky as Roseanne Bar on a diet. Depressed, Chloe dug her Chips Ahoy into the pint Breyers Triple Chocolate Ice Cream, nestled between her crossed ankles. Balancing the- melting- frozen treat on the end of her cookie, she raised it to her mouth and moaned in pleasure as her teeth sunk into the chocolaty goodness. Slurping the dripping ice cream off her fingers, and catching beads of melting chocolate on her tongue, she felt her muscles relax.
The crackling boom of a gunshot, had her surprised green eyes snapping back to the television and groaned. On her screen, Elizabeth Webber stood dumbfounded as she glanced down at the blood trickling from the bullet wound in her arm. Chloe sighed, as Jason Morgan- a man who had pinned over Elizabeth for years- caught her in his muscular arms as her knees gave way from pain and shock. Then Zander Smith, a competitor for Elizabeth's affections and her shooter, reached for her, only to skitter away under the deadly laser like glare of Jason's baby blues.
Chloe's lower lip quivered as she scooped another glob of ice cream into her mouth. She knew she had truly hit rock bottom when she watched old taped re-runs of General Hospital, and could commiserate with the characters and draw connections to her own life. She was a truly pathetic mess, her t-shirt was splattered with drips of chocolate, and her eyes were red, swollen, and sore. She was in love with her best friend who- was having a type of nervous breakdown and fathered her unborn child- and he was in love with her roommate and had been since the sand box. Said roommate was now, miracle of miracles, in love with him as well and as always she followed at a distance forever in the shadows of their epic love. The forgotten and the unloved, and the perfect picture of teen angst.
Fuck, she was a soap writer's wet dream.
Chloe blinked hard, as she felt the familiar burn behind her eyes. As much as she wanted to let the tears fall, and wallow in self-pity and unrequited love she had shed enough tears because of Clark Kent for one day. Tomorrow she would crumble, but tonight, she had bigger fish to fry. Her father was searching out the Kents and she would soon be recounting her deception to two of the kindest people she knew. Grabbing the remote from the arm of the couch, she pressed the fast forward sending her show skipping to the next episodes opening credits. The familiar sound of the saxophone, of the instrumental theme song always soothed her, and she sighed letting herself be taken away by memories. Ever since the first time, when she was six and sick with the flu, her mother had cuddled her on the couch, bemoaning the lives of Port Charles citizens.
Chloe supposed it was weird to associate the saxophone and General Hospital, with her long since absentee mother, but the fact was both of those things were her go to cure all. Maybe it was because that was the last memory she had of her mother before she packed her bags, and left them. Funny enough, it was that memory that sparked her search. Trying to achieve… well she wasn't sure what she was trying to achieve, but she'd hoped finally knowing would make a profound impact. So far she had come up blank, so for now all she had was the soft melody of the saxophone and General Hospital to fill the void.
Over the soft murmuring of the TV, she heard tires screech. For a brief moment she thought it was her father, and she tensed, but her father left barely an twenty-five minutes earlier. The drive to Hickory Lane took at least twenty in both directions. Unless her father had broken the land speed record it wasn't her firing squad.
She sighed irritably, reaching for the remote to turn up the TV. It probably was Dennis Thornton on his motorized dirt bike, speeding up and down the development again. Immersed in the star crossed love of Jason and Elizabeth; Chloe absently snatched another cookie, from the pack resting open beside her and scooped a large glop of ice cream out of the carton. Opening her mouth she raised her snack to her mouth, just as her front door slammed open, ricocheting off the wall. Standing in her doorway, eyes frantic, his face flushed was Jonathon Kent. She gaped, her cookie halfway to her mouth, chocolate dipping down her throat and chest, as she blinked stupidly back at him.
"Jonathon, that was rude. You probably scared Chloe half to death." Martha scolded half-heartedly as she too skidded into the room, her warm eyes landing on the stupefied blonde. For a brief moment, Chloe thought she saw an amused smile twitch at the older woman's lips, before it was gone and she regarded her with a pleading stare.
Great, just fucking great. As if, she didn't feel bad enough. The blonde mused silently.
"Crap, cold!" Chloe yelped, when the glop of ice cream slopped off the cookie and onto her chest. Mr. Kent snorted and grabbed a box of tissues of the end table and tossed them on the cushion beside her.
Embarrassed, she hastily cleans herself off as best she could. Just as she was tossing the last soiled tissue into the nearly empty carton, her father skidded into the house huffing and puffing. Gabe grunted, and bent over resting his hands on his knees. Still dressed in his suit and dress shoes, his face beet red and dripping sweat he made quite the funny picture.
Feeling eyes on him, Gabe straightened and eyed the carton of ice cream and the nearly empty bag of cookies, and then to the forgotten daytime drama playing on the screen.
"Aww, Tink." He whispered mournfully, but it seemed Jonathon had reached the end of his fraying patience. Standing illuminated by the floor lamp, the florescent glow highlighting his strong jaw and cheekbones, and gave a desperate glow to his hopeful blue eyes. Damn, Jonathon Kent and his movie star good looks. Martha shuffled forward stepping over Gammy Sullivan's blanket- that had fallen to the floor when the Kents had stormed the gates- and grabbed a tissue and motherly affection wiped some ice cream from her cheek. She was going to cry, she knew it. One more pleading word or gesture of motherly love would break the damn.
"Chloe?" he asked beseechingly, as his wife tended to her.
Aww fuck.
And the damn broke.
"I'm so sorry." She whispered brokenly, a fresh wave of tears falling from her lashes.
"Shh...sweetie...shh, it's okay." Martha hummed smoothing her matted hair.
Martha's soft words only made her sob harder. "I-I wanted to tell you, but he made...he made me...promise."
Mr. Kent frowned turning toward Gabe, seeking answers. Gabe sighed and shrugged, even after years of being a single parent he still could not understand cry talk. Whenever his daughter went on a soap opera binge, he found it was better for both of them to make himself scarce.
"I'll uh make some tea, I have a feeling this is going to be a long night." With a sigh, Gabe trudged off toward the kitchen, patting Jonathon comfortingly on the shoulder as he passed. Idly he wondered as he pushed open the frosted glass door, if he still had the bottle of top shelf single malt Lex Luthor had given him as congratulations for his promotion. Gabe new by the end of this gabfest. He was going to need a stiff belt to sooth his nerves; and pretend- at least until the Kents left- that he wasn't plotting on the best way to make a farmboy cry.
….
Three hours later
Gabe Sullivan mournfully gazed toward the scotch, sitting atop his great-grandmother's two hundred year old china cabinet. Gabe was not a drinker; he would have a few beers at poker night or at the bowling alley but that was about it. Having had an alcoholic uncle, who drank away his insecurities and pain, Gabe had refused to drink when his emotions were in an up roar. This was why he had practically given up alcohol for the two years after his divorce. At the moment, however, he was seriously reconsidering that rule.
Seated at his kitchen island, was Jonathon alternately clenching his jaw and casting a heartbroken expression toward Chloe. Martha was nestled in the winding bench in the breakfast nock holding onto his daughter for dear life. Both of them sobbing and alternately comforting and apologizing to each other. Casting one more wanting glance at the amber bottle, he shuffled wearily to the refrigerator pulling out a soda. It wasn't hard liquor but it would have to do.
Upset as he was, he still couldn't help but offer Martha and his daughter a small comforting smile, as he pulled himself up onto a stool next to Jonathan. That smile however seemed to have the opposite effect, as both of the girls faces crumbled and they clung tighter to one another.
Gabe gave a wince, and silently cast a sorrowful glance in his friend's direction. When he had first thought of moving to Smallville to run the plant, he had taken a day to himself and toured the small hamlet. The first person he had met had been the Kents, who had taken it upon themselves to show him the town they loved. When he had finally made the move, Martha had been the first person to welcome them to town with a homemade pie. Having been a city boy all his life, he had only thought people did such things in old fifties sitcoms and movies- and per that tradition he- quite stupidly- had offered her a cup of sugar.
While he liked the Kent's he had never thought, that they would ever be here. Sitting in his kitchen revealing their wayward son's whereabouts and announcing that their families were now forever linked. While Martha's reaction of throwing herself into Chloe's arms and sobbing and reassuring the young girl had startled him, its Jonathan that he understood.
"I'm going to kill him." he'd muttered angrily his jaw ticking and twitching under the strain. When Chloe had wailed, Martha had fixed her husband with a stony look that had nearly made Gabe wet himself, he wasn't proud to admit it but it was fact. Ever since then the only sound echoing through the Sullivan house was sobs. Normally Gabe would have broken the tension, with a few of his knock-knock jokes, but he had an inkling that the one about three possums and a moose would not be appreciated right now.
He was saved, by the door slam, as it were.
Knowing it was Lana, Gabe wearily lifted himself from his stool and slipped unnoticed from the kitchen. He paused in the dining room as he spotted his surrogate daughter sobbing into the couch cushions. While he had always known Lana and Chloe were in an unfair and uneven competition for Clark Kent's affections, he had said nothing when he would pass his daughter's room on the way to bed, and hear Lana gushing or bemoaning Clark Kent.
Gabe scowled at the name.
Ever since the train wreck, that was the Spring Formal he had not been a fan of the youngest Kent. A fact that Clark seemed very attuned to the next time he had stopped by the house, and he was not greeted with his customary joke and clap on the back. Now he shared a house with two hormonal teenage girls both in love with the bumbling boy, and his castle had all too soon, descend into madness. Now he was stuck with yet another fountain of estrogen, and because Chloe was well cared for that now left him free to console Lana. He cared for Lana like a daughter; Gabe was drowning in tears, and it was fact he was less than useless in getting anyone to stop crying.
Cursing himself, he crossed across the dusty wood floor- and absently reminded himself to buy a mop- and perched on the arm of the couch and awkwardly patted Lana's dark hair.
The teen tensed for a moment, and gazed up at him through dark hair and wet lashes. "I think, I made it worse…," she whispered brokenly. "…he's so different…so un-Clark."
Lana pushed herself up, tossing her hair from her face and gazing at him with wet eyes. Scooting over she allowed him to sit on the now sodden cushion he winced slightly as he felt his backside grow damp.
"I didn't tell him…he was just so off…for the first time I was scared of him. Truly afraid." Gabe tensed, and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He tossed them sleeping together in my face, when I refused to stay. Called her an easy fuck… and that he made due with second string, since the starter was missing. I've never heard him be so cruel."
Gabe's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding in anger. His hand accidently tightened on Lana's shoulder and she gave a small wince.
"I'm sorry." He released her shoulder and gave her a side armed hug. Lana smiled self-deprecatingly, tucking her ebony hair over her shoulder.
"No, I should be apologizing. I never should have said the things I did to Chloe. I was hurt, and selfish, and I thought she was trying to hide Clark from me…but I get it now…she was trying to protect us both." She whispered wiping at her eyes with her fingertips. "Is she okay?"
Gabe cringed slightly. "Uhm…to tell you the truth, I'm not quite sure. The Kents are in the kitchen and Martha and Chloe have been crying together for at least forty-minuets."
She offered him a small smile, patted him sympathetically on the arm. "Wish me luck, I'm going in."
Gabe snorted and allowed her to help him up off the sofa. Following close behind, he followed her into the kitchen and jumped in surprise when Lana too broke down in tears and ran to Martha and Chloe, apologizing between gasps of air, as she explained Clark's transformation and the truth of his Metropolis binge.
Gabe groaned.
Gabe Sullivan was in hell.
And if Clark Kent survived the group beating, he really hoped he would be blessed with a little girl.
Let him live with that worry.
Now that was sweet revenge.
