"Alright, Clark," Chloe nudged him, "Now is the part where you bust us out of here."

A pair of pained, worried eyes regarded her anxiously.

"I'll explain later. Just get us free from these cuffs," she urged pleadingly, "Please! I know that you are more than strong enough to break them."

Clark tugged at the cuffs, only succeeding in wiggling her wrist, and sighed in defeat, deciding that he would deal with her knowledge later - assuming they were able to get out. "I can't," he groaned, the words feeling like sandpaper in his throat, "It's killing me."

"What?" Chloe exclaimed, staring at him in wide eyed dismay, "What's killing you?"

"The meteor rock," he coughed slightly, glancing over at the glowing rocks and powder on the work bench, "I'm allergic. It's only because it's across the room that I've lasted this long."

"Oh my..." she could feel the blood draining from her face as she began to understand, "So if I don't get you out of here pronto, she won't have to come back with that gun?"

"Basically." his hand felt strangely hot against hers, "The meteors don't bother me if they're encased in lead. But that doesn't do us much good."

"Great! Lead boxes don't exactly grow in storm cellars," Chloe groaned, putting her free hand to her forehead, "Now what?"

"I'm sorry," Clark seemed to be almost on the point of unconsciousness as his whispered voice reached her ear, "For not telling you. You were the best friend... I could ever... have... wanted..."

"No! Don't give up on me, Clark!" she exclaimed frantically, jumping to her feet and exerting her strength to pull him towards the work bench, fear for his life seeming to jumpstart her brain, "Hold on! I'm going to get rid of the meteor rock!"

A soft groan was the only answer as she grabbed both his arms and dragged him across the floor, knocking over various boxes on the way. His mention of lead had triggered something in her mind; the year before she had written a very boring filler piece for the torch on the history and danger of lead based paint - especially that the paint produced before the 1960s had a much higher concentration of lead than that which was produced after. The paint had been used on houses, walls, various toys, and... toolboxes.

"I know, I know," she panted, glancing at his face which almost seemed to begin bubbling - looking remarkably like boiling water - as they neared the workbench, "Don't let go! Please!"

Using all of her might to stand up straight - partially raising his body as she did so - she grabbed the box of meteor rocks and dumped it into the old yellow toolbox, followed by the paper containing the meteor dust. Slamming the lid shut, she sank to the ground and cradled his head in her lap, tears in her eyes as she looked at his now smooth and unresponsive face.

"Please," she whispered, stroking his face with her free hand, "Please come back. I need you, Clark. Your parents need you. The world needs you. You were meant for more than dying in a storm cellar."

There was no response, and his skin was now cool to the touch; a stark contrast to the burning heat of a few minutes ago.

"I love you." a tear dripped from her nose and splashed onto his cheek as she whispered the words.

A moment later, a small sigh proceeded out of his pale lips, causing her to catch her breath hopefully.

"Clark?" she questioned timidly.

"Chloe?" his voice was still quiet, but much stronger than it had been.

"You're awake!" though she never would admit it later, it must be said that she squealed the words with delight, "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," the words were confident and much stronger, "As soon as the sun touches me I'll be back to normal."

"Wait," Chloe looked at him curiously, "What am I missing here? You have meteor powers, yet the meteor rocks make you sick and now you need to get into the sun?"

"I'll explain everything when we get out of here," Clark sat up, as the color came back into his cheeks, "For now, let's focus on getting that door opened; I'm sure that the Sheriff will have a key for these handcuffs if there isn't one here, but in the mean time we're going to have to work together."

"Are you well enough to stand up?" Chloe asked, scrambling to her knees.

For an answer he rose slowly to his feet, pulling her up with him gently, before beginning the search for the tool that would give them a chance to get out of the cellar before Miss Trammer arrived.

A moment later, Chloe held up a tool that had apparently been used to scrape the pods, "Will this work?"

"It should," Clark nodded, a brief smile coming over his face, "Let's give it a try."

Making their way awkwardly across the small room and up the stairs, wrists stuck firmly together in the metal cuffs, Clark held the tool tightly in his free hand and threw his arm at the door with all of the strength he had. Tugging it loose, he paused for a moment, looking out of the hole as the sun shone through onto his face. Inhaling deeply, he straightened up and pushed the door open, easily breaking the exterior lock with his new found solar rejuvenation.

Climbing out, he easily forced open the cuffs, freeing both of their wrists.

"Wow," Chloe grinned, rubbing the reddened skin at the base of her hand gently, "I sure am glad that you decided to come back to the land of the living."

"Me too," he returned the smile, "Thank you for not giving up on me."

"Ah, well," she shrugged, her eyes betraying her pleasure at his words as they started back towards town, "You never would have given up on me; I was just returning the favor."

"Wait!" Clark stopped her, "Shouldn't we gather some of the evidence and bring it with us just in case Miss Trammer has time to come back and move her stuff out before we are able to convince the police to make the trip out here?"

"I can do better than that," Chloe reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone triumphantly, "I was recording her confession before she put the handcuffs on us."

"She was wrong about you making a great reporter someday," he smiled, "You're a great reporter now."

"We are," she corrected, hoping that her face wasn't sparkling too much at the praise, "Someday we'll be star reporters for the Daily Planet... I'll be the senior partner of course..."

"You?" Clark raised an eyebrow, entering into her playful mood, "Please don't forget that I am at least several months older than you are."

"But I'm more mature," she said airily, "And more experienced. I must have written at least three times as many articles for the Torch as you."

"Well, we can decide later," he shook his head with a smile before becoming serious again, "Right now, what I really want to know is, how long have you known about me?"

"I guess I've always had my suspicions," she glanced up at him again, "The quick exits, the miraculous recoveries, the lame excuses... But I think when I saw you catch a car like it was a beach ball, that kinda confirmed everything."

His eyes met hers with something akin to horror. "Alicia?" he whispered, everything suddenly clicking into place, "That night on the She set me up?"

"Yeah, but don't blame her too much," Chloe put a hand on his arm, "She thought that your powers were keeping you from being yourself and if I were to tell everyone the truth than you would be free to be who you really are."

He was silent for a moment. "But you wouldn't, would you?" considering her background of exposing meteor freaks, his voice was surprisingly confident.

"Never," she shook her head soberly, her eyes earnest, "Your secret will never ever leave my lips. No matter what."

"I appreciate that. Why didn't you tell me that you knew?" Clark questioned, his voice betraying how vulnerable he was.

"I figured that if you wanted to tell me you were part of the superpowered persuasion, you would when you were ready," she explained gravely, "On your terms, not on mine."

"You're a good friend, Chloe." he put an arm around her shoulders in a side hug.

"Obviously not good enough." her disappointment showed through in spite of herself.

"There were so many times I wanted to tell you..." his voice, full of regret and uncertainty, trailed off.

"Clark, I don't blame you!" she shook her head returned the side hug, "Loose lips sink ships, and I know I've sunk my share of flotillas. Who else knows about you?"

"My parents... Pete..." he shrugged as they separated and then his voice took on a note of pain, "Alicia. You understand why I was afraid for anyone to know?"

"Of course," she nodded, "And I would die before I would ever betray you."

"Well, I hope that you would never have to make that choice," then his eyes warmed, "But thank you."

"There are a few blind spots though," Chloe said slowly, gauging his reaction to judge whether or not to continue, "Like why are you allergic to meteors? And how come you were blessed with two powers - strength and speed - when everyone else only has one?"

"Well, Chloe, there's a lot that even I don't understand about me..." his voice trailed off and he sighed, "Look, we're getting close to town. Let's deal with this problem and I'll explain later - I promise."

"I don't want to pry," she said quickly, "And if you'd rather not tell me, I'd understand. I'd be disappointed. But I would understand."

"Thanks, Chloe," he nodded, "And I will explain - after we get this all worked out."

. . .

"You two stay here in town," Sheriff Adams ordered, checking her gun, "We're going to go have a look around."

"Be careful," Chloe warned, knowing how silly she was going to sound but needing to say it anyways, "Miss Trammer has a meteor power that allows her to make people fall asleep. She seems to be able to control how long the effects last."

"Thanks for the warning, but I'm sure we'll be fine."

As the Sheriff and two deputies left, Chloe turned to Clark, "Come on; let's find out more about Miss Trammer. There must be something we can do to keep her from using her powers. Right now she is an unbeatable force; the moment anyone gets to within so many yards of her... and it's off to dreamland."

. . .

"Look at this!" Chloe exclaimed, scrolling down as she quickly read the information on her computer screen, "Miss Trammer was born in Smallville. During the meteor shower she was hit and was brought to the hospital and put on morphine as they extracted some of the meteor rock that had become lodged in her chest."

"Heroin is synthesized from Morphine," Clark offered thoughtfully, bending down to read over her shoulder, his hand on the back of her chair, "Maybe the meteors began the process of changing morphine to Heroin and caused the drug to transfer some of it's effects into her body - making her able to cause sleepiness when it is in her body and causing her to become addicted. Her effect on her victims is probably the strongest when the drug is the most concentrated in her bloodstream."

"Opioids can be combated with Naloxone which works by completely reversing the effects," Chloe bit her lip, "It's a long shot, but perhaps if we can get a hold of Naloxone, and if we could inject Miss Trammer with it, maybe it would remove her ability to send everyone off to sleep?"

Clark nodded and shrugged, "It's worth a try."

"Okay, but we need a plan." Chloe pushed back her chair and stood up, tapping the desk thoughtfully with her fingers and then tapping his arm excitedly, "I've got it!"

. . . .

Can you tell that my life revolves around reviews?