Torch's Flame -- a Smallville fic of Clark/Chloe proportions
by ManxoChu
Disclaimer: Needless to say, but just to satisfy anyone who speaks legal-talk, Smallville, its characters, etc etc, belong to DC and the WB.
Note: This fic takes place after "Nicodemus" and thus also occurs after the previously aired episodes. There, with all the bases covered, away we go...
~ denotes one's thoughts here, as " would for speech.
Part 2
=====================================================
~I can't sleep,~ thought Clark while in his bed. ~And curse that Mrs. Leon for her bouts of dramatics during English class. Why now? I can't think straight.~ He stared at the notebook. ~C'mon, just an idea. An idea I'm passionate about... Hmm...~ Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the notebook that he used for writing down his dreams. One could see the proverbial lightbulb light up over his head as he read through the entry concerning last night's dream. ~That's it!~ He proceeded to write down his assignment, all the while hoping that the true audience of this poem will appreciate it. After almost an hour of writing, editting, and spellchecking, he had finished... Or so he thought.
"I forgot... I have to type or print it." He sighed when he realized that the typewriter was in the shop for repairs. "I wish we could just get a computer like everyone else," he mumbled, knowing all too well that it point in time, his parents just can't afford to get a computer. ~Well, I could always head over to Chloe's and... ah cripes...~ His idea crashed like a bad train wreck. There'd be the chance that she would see his poem while he was typing it up. Bad idea. That's when he remembered the computers at The Torch would be a better idea. ~Time for bed, anyway. I've got my plan. I just hope Chloe won't look at my screen while I'm there typing it. Whew... Poetry can really drain a person.~ On that note, he turned off the light and drifted off into dreamland. "Sweetdreams, Chloe..."
Meanwhile, at the Sullivan residence...
"YES!! Another prize paper by Chloe Sullivan!" This was of course kept at a low roar so as to not wake her father, who had come home from a long day at the fertilizer plant. It was, afterall, 10:30 PM. "I know they won't believe I'm right about the meteors even with this poem. All in all though, I did really well with this. I can't wait to show this to Clark tomorrow. Ah crap, we can't share. We're supposed to keep it hush-hush." With that in mind, she made sure the file was saved. ~I wonder what Clark will write about. Maybe something about his past. Maybe something about his wanting or not wanting to learn about his biological parents. Or maybe even his dreams about me...~ Chloe pondered a bit and laughed on that last one. "Yea right, like he'd have the guts to say it." As Chloe climbed into bed and drifted to sleep, she wondered if Clark will show at The Torch tomorrow... "*YAWWWWWWN* Maybe I'll get a chance to sneak a peek... Goodnight, my sweet savior of Smallville..." She giggled at that small bit of alliteration before falling asleep.
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Clark woke that morning in a sweat. He looked at the clock that read 7:15 AM. ~Stupid clock...~ He knew that he had indeed dreamed that night, but this one was different from the previous ones. ~Since when did I dream so abstract? A light? A torch? Darkness? Blonde hair!?~ All this swam through his mind as he best recounted the dream onto his dream notebook. A quick shower, breakfast, and chores were all squared away in no time flat before he headed towards school and The Torch.
For all his yelling, Jonathan couldn't reach through to his son. Grumbling, he went back inside. "Martha, any idea why Clark went to school on a Saturday without doing his chores?"
Martha was in the middle of washing some of the crops in preparation for the Farmer's Market today. She didn't miss a beat while washing in order to answer. "You mean besides his friends at the school newspaper? Don't you remember, dear? He has to type up an assignment for English class and the typewriter's getting fixed. Now really, Jonathan, we should reconsider getting a computer for Clark and his schoolwork."
"I know, dear. It's just that money's ti--"
"I know that money's tight right now, but we can't afford to let Clark's grades suffer. I'm sure we could find some sort of deal in Metropolis." Martha's logic and the look in her eyes quickly broke through whatever defense Jonathan had in mind.
"Oh alright. But you know that means he'll be home more and in turn it means less for us," he smirked while grabbing an apple. He couldn't help but goose his wife while passing by, ending up being playfully chased by his dear wife of countless years, towel in hand.
Clark had wanted to be there an hour earlier, but he'd forgotten to set his clock. Had he done so, he would have easily gotten the janitor to open up The Torch, typed up his assignment and be gone without dealing with Chloe's prying curiosity. "So much for Plan A," he mumbled as he saw that The Torch was open for business. ~She's here~ was the thought crossing his mind, but he had other things in mind. ~She's going to want to read it, and I can't be at both the computer and the printer at the same time without revealing myself. Just great...~ With a sigh, he peered into the office. And there she was.
Chloe had been in the office for over half an hour already, but at this point in time it was perfectly normal for the perky young blonde. She was proud of how she's improved this newspaper, and the office environment in particular. She'd actually gotten Principal "Genghis" Kwan to agree to set up a network for four iMacs and to put in a coffee machine. Kwan stated that it was her "miraculous" turnaround of her journalistic priorities that helped him agree to this. Chloe couldn't help now laugh at that, even if that was *partially* correct. "Once I find the proof, Genghis Kwan, I'll be able to link all the weirdness in school to those blasted meteors. Then the truth will be known."
Clark couldn't help but gulp at the last statement as he entered. Another thing he couldn't help was his cheeks as they reddened. ~Not now... but she sure does look great this morning... Okay, focus now, Kent. Is that shirt rather form-fitting? No no no...~ Clark shook his head to clear it of any thoughts, semi-unpure or worse. However, he couldn't shake the blush on his cheeks. "G'morning, Chloe. You're here early." He ducked behind the nearest iMac so as to hopefully keep her from seeing that.
"All this time, and you still don't remember? Sheesh, Kent, it's a wonder I haven't fired you from the paper yet," Chloe joked before taking another sip of her third morning cup of coffee. She grinned while taking that sip though. ~I saw that, Clark. And that 'hide behind the computer' ploy won't save you.~ She got up and sat by him. "What's wrong, Kent? You looked all flushed. Thinking of a certain girl?" She twirled her finger in his hair to make things worse for him, while hiding her own inner pain of what his answer would most likely be: Miss Lana "Pom Pom Queen" Lang.
"Chloe, would you stop it? I've got some work to do here." Clark had about lost all his marbles when she did that to him. What he wasn't exactly sure of was why she was affecting him like this more and more while Lana was affecting him less and less. "Seriously, I've got to type up this assignment for Mrs. Leon." He had no time to react when she grabbed the paper from the desk. His heart about stopped. ~OH NO!! Don't read it! Don't read it! Don't re--~
"Oh wow..." were the only words she would say. She'd read poems made by the students of Smallville High before; of course she had, because they're in the paper every now and then. Maybe it was the fact that this was *Clark Kent* who wrote this, or maybe it was the emotion contained in the words. Whatever it was, it had reduced her to only two words: "Oh wow..." When Clark pulled the paper out of her hands, it snapped her back into the now. "That was a great poem, Clark. I mean it, seriously." She was practically beaming, which eased Clark a bit. "If this really came from your dreams, then I could see why there's so much emo--" She stopped mid-syllable, as if she wanted to retract what she'd said, but it was too late.
"Hold on there a second. What did you just say? My dreams? How did you know it was based off of my dreams, Chloe?" It wasn't anger in his words. It was pain. The pain one felt when his privacy was violated. Indeed, it was violation he felt. Violation of his own thoughts and images from the dream world. Still, he wanted this feeling to be untrue. ~You didn't, Chloe. Please say you didn't.~
Tears were welling up in her eyes. She could see the pain in his eyes. A pain that she caused, no doubt. "I'm sorry, Clark. I'm so very sorry. I really am. You'd left your backpack here yesterday, and it was open. I saw you reading it earlier, and I wanted to know. I couldn't help myself, y'know? C'mon, Clark. Forgive me?" She held his hands in hers, feeling his as they shook. She wasn't sure if they were shaking in anger or sadness or something, but she knew it wasn't good. "Please?"
"What did you read?" He had to swallow the lump in his throat.
"Just the ones from the last week." She hoped this was a sign that he'd be okay.
"My dreams are personal, Chloe. How could you?" He backed away from her and crumpled up the paper before tossing it in the trash.
"Clark, don't do that!" She tried her best to correct things. "I won't tell anyone it's your poem. Just type it up and submit it on Monday and we can just forget that it ev--"
"'Forget'? By reading my dreams, you were analyzing me like I'm some nutcase or something, taking advantage of the moment see what makes me tick, without even asking me, and you just want to 'forget' it?" As mad as he was, he couldn't make his words any more harsh. "I gotta go, Chloe. I'll see you on... no, I won't be here Monday. I'm not exactly feeling well. If you want to submit it for me, then type it yourself." Slamming the door open (without actually ripping it off its hinges), Clark stormed off.
She knew she had best not follow him. She blew it. She knew he would have only written the poem for class if no one knew it was him who wrote. "That's why he used his dream for it. That's why the poem was so personal. Oh Clark..." She pulled the paper from the trash and uncrumpled it, in time for her teardrops to be caught by it. With a heavy heart and through tear-blurred eyes, she typed up the assignment for the best friend she wanted to be more with, but just lost.
=========================================
To be Continued
=========================================
Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews, please? Part 3 coming soon. ^_^
by ManxoChu
Disclaimer: Needless to say, but just to satisfy anyone who speaks legal-talk, Smallville, its characters, etc etc, belong to DC and the WB.
Note: This fic takes place after "Nicodemus" and thus also occurs after the previously aired episodes. There, with all the bases covered, away we go...
~ denotes one's thoughts here, as " would for speech.
Part 2
=====================================================
~I can't sleep,~ thought Clark while in his bed. ~And curse that Mrs. Leon for her bouts of dramatics during English class. Why now? I can't think straight.~ He stared at the notebook. ~C'mon, just an idea. An idea I'm passionate about... Hmm...~ Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the notebook that he used for writing down his dreams. One could see the proverbial lightbulb light up over his head as he read through the entry concerning last night's dream. ~That's it!~ He proceeded to write down his assignment, all the while hoping that the true audience of this poem will appreciate it. After almost an hour of writing, editting, and spellchecking, he had finished... Or so he thought.
"I forgot... I have to type or print it." He sighed when he realized that the typewriter was in the shop for repairs. "I wish we could just get a computer like everyone else," he mumbled, knowing all too well that it point in time, his parents just can't afford to get a computer. ~Well, I could always head over to Chloe's and... ah cripes...~ His idea crashed like a bad train wreck. There'd be the chance that she would see his poem while he was typing it up. Bad idea. That's when he remembered the computers at The Torch would be a better idea. ~Time for bed, anyway. I've got my plan. I just hope Chloe won't look at my screen while I'm there typing it. Whew... Poetry can really drain a person.~ On that note, he turned off the light and drifted off into dreamland. "Sweetdreams, Chloe..."
Meanwhile, at the Sullivan residence...
"YES!! Another prize paper by Chloe Sullivan!" This was of course kept at a low roar so as to not wake her father, who had come home from a long day at the fertilizer plant. It was, afterall, 10:30 PM. "I know they won't believe I'm right about the meteors even with this poem. All in all though, I did really well with this. I can't wait to show this to Clark tomorrow. Ah crap, we can't share. We're supposed to keep it hush-hush." With that in mind, she made sure the file was saved. ~I wonder what Clark will write about. Maybe something about his past. Maybe something about his wanting or not wanting to learn about his biological parents. Or maybe even his dreams about me...~ Chloe pondered a bit and laughed on that last one. "Yea right, like he'd have the guts to say it." As Chloe climbed into bed and drifted to sleep, she wondered if Clark will show at The Torch tomorrow... "*YAWWWWWWN* Maybe I'll get a chance to sneak a peek... Goodnight, my sweet savior of Smallville..." She giggled at that small bit of alliteration before falling asleep.
==========================================
Clark woke that morning in a sweat. He looked at the clock that read 7:15 AM. ~Stupid clock...~ He knew that he had indeed dreamed that night, but this one was different from the previous ones. ~Since when did I dream so abstract? A light? A torch? Darkness? Blonde hair!?~ All this swam through his mind as he best recounted the dream onto his dream notebook. A quick shower, breakfast, and chores were all squared away in no time flat before he headed towards school and The Torch.
For all his yelling, Jonathan couldn't reach through to his son. Grumbling, he went back inside. "Martha, any idea why Clark went to school on a Saturday without doing his chores?"
Martha was in the middle of washing some of the crops in preparation for the Farmer's Market today. She didn't miss a beat while washing in order to answer. "You mean besides his friends at the school newspaper? Don't you remember, dear? He has to type up an assignment for English class and the typewriter's getting fixed. Now really, Jonathan, we should reconsider getting a computer for Clark and his schoolwork."
"I know, dear. It's just that money's ti--"
"I know that money's tight right now, but we can't afford to let Clark's grades suffer. I'm sure we could find some sort of deal in Metropolis." Martha's logic and the look in her eyes quickly broke through whatever defense Jonathan had in mind.
"Oh alright. But you know that means he'll be home more and in turn it means less for us," he smirked while grabbing an apple. He couldn't help but goose his wife while passing by, ending up being playfully chased by his dear wife of countless years, towel in hand.
Clark had wanted to be there an hour earlier, but he'd forgotten to set his clock. Had he done so, he would have easily gotten the janitor to open up The Torch, typed up his assignment and be gone without dealing with Chloe's prying curiosity. "So much for Plan A," he mumbled as he saw that The Torch was open for business. ~She's here~ was the thought crossing his mind, but he had other things in mind. ~She's going to want to read it, and I can't be at both the computer and the printer at the same time without revealing myself. Just great...~ With a sigh, he peered into the office. And there she was.
Chloe had been in the office for over half an hour already, but at this point in time it was perfectly normal for the perky young blonde. She was proud of how she's improved this newspaper, and the office environment in particular. She'd actually gotten Principal "Genghis" Kwan to agree to set up a network for four iMacs and to put in a coffee machine. Kwan stated that it was her "miraculous" turnaround of her journalistic priorities that helped him agree to this. Chloe couldn't help now laugh at that, even if that was *partially* correct. "Once I find the proof, Genghis Kwan, I'll be able to link all the weirdness in school to those blasted meteors. Then the truth will be known."
Clark couldn't help but gulp at the last statement as he entered. Another thing he couldn't help was his cheeks as they reddened. ~Not now... but she sure does look great this morning... Okay, focus now, Kent. Is that shirt rather form-fitting? No no no...~ Clark shook his head to clear it of any thoughts, semi-unpure or worse. However, he couldn't shake the blush on his cheeks. "G'morning, Chloe. You're here early." He ducked behind the nearest iMac so as to hopefully keep her from seeing that.
"All this time, and you still don't remember? Sheesh, Kent, it's a wonder I haven't fired you from the paper yet," Chloe joked before taking another sip of her third morning cup of coffee. She grinned while taking that sip though. ~I saw that, Clark. And that 'hide behind the computer' ploy won't save you.~ She got up and sat by him. "What's wrong, Kent? You looked all flushed. Thinking of a certain girl?" She twirled her finger in his hair to make things worse for him, while hiding her own inner pain of what his answer would most likely be: Miss Lana "Pom Pom Queen" Lang.
"Chloe, would you stop it? I've got some work to do here." Clark had about lost all his marbles when she did that to him. What he wasn't exactly sure of was why she was affecting him like this more and more while Lana was affecting him less and less. "Seriously, I've got to type up this assignment for Mrs. Leon." He had no time to react when she grabbed the paper from the desk. His heart about stopped. ~OH NO!! Don't read it! Don't read it! Don't re--~
"Oh wow..." were the only words she would say. She'd read poems made by the students of Smallville High before; of course she had, because they're in the paper every now and then. Maybe it was the fact that this was *Clark Kent* who wrote this, or maybe it was the emotion contained in the words. Whatever it was, it had reduced her to only two words: "Oh wow..." When Clark pulled the paper out of her hands, it snapped her back into the now. "That was a great poem, Clark. I mean it, seriously." She was practically beaming, which eased Clark a bit. "If this really came from your dreams, then I could see why there's so much emo--" She stopped mid-syllable, as if she wanted to retract what she'd said, but it was too late.
"Hold on there a second. What did you just say? My dreams? How did you know it was based off of my dreams, Chloe?" It wasn't anger in his words. It was pain. The pain one felt when his privacy was violated. Indeed, it was violation he felt. Violation of his own thoughts and images from the dream world. Still, he wanted this feeling to be untrue. ~You didn't, Chloe. Please say you didn't.~
Tears were welling up in her eyes. She could see the pain in his eyes. A pain that she caused, no doubt. "I'm sorry, Clark. I'm so very sorry. I really am. You'd left your backpack here yesterday, and it was open. I saw you reading it earlier, and I wanted to know. I couldn't help myself, y'know? C'mon, Clark. Forgive me?" She held his hands in hers, feeling his as they shook. She wasn't sure if they were shaking in anger or sadness or something, but she knew it wasn't good. "Please?"
"What did you read?" He had to swallow the lump in his throat.
"Just the ones from the last week." She hoped this was a sign that he'd be okay.
"My dreams are personal, Chloe. How could you?" He backed away from her and crumpled up the paper before tossing it in the trash.
"Clark, don't do that!" She tried her best to correct things. "I won't tell anyone it's your poem. Just type it up and submit it on Monday and we can just forget that it ev--"
"'Forget'? By reading my dreams, you were analyzing me like I'm some nutcase or something, taking advantage of the moment see what makes me tick, without even asking me, and you just want to 'forget' it?" As mad as he was, he couldn't make his words any more harsh. "I gotta go, Chloe. I'll see you on... no, I won't be here Monday. I'm not exactly feeling well. If you want to submit it for me, then type it yourself." Slamming the door open (without actually ripping it off its hinges), Clark stormed off.
She knew she had best not follow him. She blew it. She knew he would have only written the poem for class if no one knew it was him who wrote. "That's why he used his dream for it. That's why the poem was so personal. Oh Clark..." She pulled the paper from the trash and uncrumpled it, in time for her teardrops to be caught by it. With a heavy heart and through tear-blurred eyes, she typed up the assignment for the best friend she wanted to be more with, but just lost.
=========================================
To be Continued
=========================================
Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews, please? Part 3 coming soon. ^_^