Notes :
In response to your question Kesha : Ok, I'm not sure how long this is going to end up but I'm guessing roughly another 5 or 6 chapters not including the second half of chapter 8. That's very rough by the way. As an example, originally chapters 8 and 9 were both going to fit as a single chapter, but in the end I felt I needed more room so it's quite possible things will stretch out longer. After I'm done the entire story I'll probably go back and do a revision of the whole thing, assuming I can find the energy as that will be allot of work. If, after I've completed the revision, you still want to repost it, you'll be more than welcome to. Just get in touch with me via email after I'm done :).
In response to Sarah : I didn't want to go anywhere near Lex, not because I don't like the character (I do like the character) but because he brings an entire plot line with him that would be hard to ignore. The foundation and corruption of the relationship between Clark and Lex is almost the entire foundation upon which Smallville rests, and by far its strongest aspect, and the story I wanted to tell is outside that. So to avoid potential baggage, I just wrote him out entirely.
It's great to hear that people are still reading and enjoying : ) Hope this next part continues to appeal.
Thanks.
Shadows : Chapter 8a
Chloe woke to a crashing sound as if the front door had been literally smashed in. Feet pounded up the stairs followed by yelling, the shocked sound of her father's voice raised in protest. On the first thundering impact against her door Chloe pushed herself against the back of her bed, pulling the covers around herself in a futile but instinctive attempt to hide.
It wasn't even locked.
The door collapsed inward and she found herself facing Clark's wild eyes as he stared at her, his hair in complete disarray, and his right hand covered in gray powder. He just stood there looking at her while his chest rose and fell as if he couldn't remember how to breath. He was looking right at her but for some reason he wasn't seeing her.
"Clark?"
Fear, confusion, disbelief, all flashed in sequence across his features before he collapsed in the corner of the room.
"Chloe, what the hell…" Her father sounded angry but it didn't matter. Something had happened, something horrible. It wasn't Clark in her room it was a vestige of him, as if the rest had been beaten until it ran as far away as it could, until it found a place to hide. Throwing herself out of bed she dropped to the floor beside him. Chloe tried to pull Clark towards her but it was like wrestling with a piece of stone.
"Clark, you're ok. Everything is ok." Chloe leaned forward, willing him to see her. "Clark."
"Chloe?" His voice broke. For a moment she thought he'd heard her but then she realized he was somewhere else entirely. His eyes were dilated, jumping around the room as he focussed on things that only he could see. His fist flew downwards, ripping apart the carpet and embedding itself in the wooden floor beneath.
"Chloe?" It was the voice of her father again, concerned, confused, and asking her what he should do.
"Call his parents dad. Just call his parents." He watched Clark for a moment, eyes drawn to the spot where his hand had crashed through the floor.
"Dad, please…" He nodded reluctantly before going, obviously reticent to leave his daughter alone with a madman but that didn't matter as long as he made the call and…
What did it do to you Clark?
How did you help a person who had completely and utterly lost their grip on reality? Why here, why had he barged into her home, into her bedroom, what had he expected to find? Staring into his terrified gaze she realized that whatever it was, that's exactly what he'd found.
"Clark, I'm here. It's me, Chloe." Nothing, he was starting to quiet down but not in a good way. Even as she watched she could see the fight draining out of him as he let whatever world he'd fallen into take him apart piece by piece.
"Clark, you're ok." She felt tears surface at the feeling of helplessness but she blinked them dry. Later, she'd cry later.
Her room… he'd come to her room.
"Clark, I'm ok." She didn't know why she said it but it was like finding the key to a lock. For the briefest second he saw her, really saw her, looked straight at her and knew what he was seeing. She repeated the phrase, turning the key, trying to make him understand.
Something inside him snapped and all at once he went completely limp.
God Clark please be ok…
Gently Chloe pulled at him again, this time finding no resistance as she tried to draw him against her like a child. She brushed her fingers through his hair, moving it out of the way before leaning down to touch her lips to his forehead. Whispering assurances to him she gently stroked her hand along his face. Reassuring him, calming him, trying to bring him back.
When her father returned he found Clark Kent lying unconscious, asleep in his daughters arms, while she held him and cried quietly.
"Chloe, what happened?"
She just shook her head, she couldn't tell him without sharing a secret that wasn't hers to share. But even if she couldn't say it, she knew exactly what had happened.
She'd been right. It had gotten creative.
Kiang Shi, Succubi… Succubi? She'd thought those were daemons.
The vast array of descriptions that could be brought together under the label of Vampire was daunting. At the essence of most types was a need to feed off of people in some manner and an association with death but some of the gypsy brand vampires were apparently considered fully functional members of society.
"Chloe?"
"Pete." Her previous assessment of the creature had been based off of the assumption that all these legends and the vast array of compiled folklore held superstitious falsities grown through centuries of exaggeration. Assumptions were dangerous, even when they led to the right answer they needed to be questioned and reevaluated.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." That was the third, no, fourth time she'd been asked that question that morning and Chloe couldn't figure out why everyone seemed to think something was wrong with her. Clothes in order? Check. Hair in place? Check. Eyes dry and focussed? Check. Voice steady? Not only solid but also full of journalistic confidence. "Did you want something Pete?"
He had his eyebrows raised. What had she done to deserve raised eyebrows? "I was wondering if you could tell me where Chloe Sullivan is. Last I heard she was headed here but," Pete made an exaggerated show of looking around the office, "I don't see any sign of her."
"Sure." If she ever tried to write an article on what she'd seen what kind of reaction would she get? Disbelief, accusations of insanity, in short she'd be labeled a kook and ignored. That was exactly what she'd tried to do to the majority of vampire references, label them kooks and forget about them to focus on the equally kooky but more immediately applicable Slavic origin vampires. But didn't giving any credence to the Slavic legends require that she give equal consideration to all of them?
Suddenly the monitor she'd been staring at turned black. What the hell? Reaching forward to the power button she found the way obstructed by Pete's hand. When had that gotten there?
"Pete, I'm kind of busy right now?"
"Sure you are, looking up vampires. Are you writing an article on them?"
"No but…"
"Are you doing a school assignment on them?"
"No but… yah, actually that's it. My history teacher has a supernatural fixation. Now if you don't mind." She tried to push his hand out of the way so she could turn the monitor back on. She'd been looking at an interesting article on the migration of vampire stories across the European continent and needed to take some notes on...
"Liar"
"Ok, I give up. I'm all ears Pete." Chloe crossed her arms and relaxed in the chair, silently willing him to go away and let her work.
"What is with you?" He sounded almost accusing. What right did he have to be annoyed with her?
"Nothing is 'with' me Pete. Not PMS, not luck, not even the Schwartz. Now I'd really love to continue this engrossing conversation at a completely distinct and unrelated time to this one. Which means you should leave and let me get some work done because I'm not about to have the same conversation twice." That didn't make much sense. Whatever. He finally let her push his hand out of the way and turn her monitor back on. There was the article, right where she'd left it.
"Yah, all right." He had that soft little boy tone to his voice as if she'd hurt his feelings. Oh well, sometimes people get hurt. It was a long article, maybe she'd just print it and a couple more out to read next period. "Where's Clark today?"
"He's sick." Yes, there we go. Here's another good one. How had she managed to open up so many browser windows all at the same time?
"Really."
"Yes."
"Clark is sick."
When did Pete lose his hearing? "Yes."
"Clark doesn't get sick."
"Everyone gets sick." Shut down these, send these to the printer and book mark these pages because she'd have to check them over later.
"No, I've known Clark since the beginning of time and he has never been away from school sick. I don't think he even got the chicken pocks and everyone gets the chicken pox."
Clark didn't get sick? That made sense. What was a little germ going to do to an alien that could put its fist through a floor?
Why was her eye wet? Rubbing the moisture away she focussed on cleaning up the mess she'd made of her desktop. She'd opened more links than she could possibly keep track of, it seemed such a stupid way to do research. Now that was interesting, a section about a type of female vampire that could actually bare children. It had nothing what so ever to do with the Slavic legends but…
Where do vampires come from?
Right in the same culture was a vampire that ate children. How did those people sleep at night?
"You did hear about last night's massacre, right?" Chloe frowned, she had no idea what he was talking about. "They pulled twenty dead bodies out of a hotel in Smallville central this morning. It happens to be the same hotel that you and Clark were investigating because he found a bloodstain. What makes this even weirder is that a whole pile of federal agents tried to cover it up but there was too much of a mess for them to pull it off. That's not even the most interesting thing though, no the most interesting thing is that everyone in the school is gabbing about it, that its all over the news papers and the radio, and that you've been so busy walking around like a zombie all morning that you don't even have a clue!"
Someone knocked on the door. "Hi, I seem to be chalk full of bad timing lately. Clark was supposed to meet me at lunch but he never showed up. I was wondering if you know where he is."
"Oh, he's sick." Pete infused the statement with an entirely inordinate amount of sarcasm.
"Really? Nothing serious I hope." Somehow Lana managed to fill the simple statement with every ounce of concern and understanding that only a voice like hers could manage.
"See that's really part of the debate in progress."
Why was he looking at her? If he wanted to grill someone he could call Clark's parents for all she cared but there was no reason to put her through an interrogation.
Now Lana was looking at Chloe too, like something was wrong with her. She was perfectly fine, she'd be perfectly fine if they'd just go away and let her do her work. "Chloe, are you ok?"
"God, he won't wake up. Ok you guys? He won't wake up." Her eyes were wet again. How many times had she cried that week? Once after the vampire tried to kill her, once last night, again now. She was becoming a regular sieve and it was starting to become degrading.
She shouldn't have said anything. She'd made the decision last night not to say anything about it because she couldn't explain it. He trusted her to keep her mouth shut. Pete was just standing there shocked and it was Lana who reacted. She got down in front of Chloe's chair for some reason and put her hands on Chloe's arms. "Chloe, what do you mean he won't wake up."
He'd fallen asleep in her arms after she calmed him down and he'd seemed so peaceful and she'd been sure everything was going to be ok. Then his parents had shown up, and everyone had tried to wake him so they could ask what was wrong. It had been like trying to wake someone from a coma. His parents had said they'd bring him home, his father had been so certain that he must just be exhausted and everything would be fine.
When she called that morning they still hadn't been able to wake him up. They'd promised to call her when he woke up and they still hadn't which meant he was still refusing to wake up.
"He just, he just won't wake up. He showed up at my place last night completely freaked out and then he collapsed and he just won't wake up." Chloe, you have now entered the zone of bottled up emotions. Put a cap on, twist, wait for explosion. Good going girl. Nice one. Now they're going to ask why he's not at a hospital…
"Chloe if they don't know what's wrong why isn't he at a hospital?" It was Pete, calm and collected. Apparently since she and Clark were both out of commission he saw it as his place to take up the role of responsible adult. Lana hadn't said a word but she was obviously wondering the same thing.
And Chloe couldn't answer them. She knew the answer, but she couldn't tell them. Without any idea what to say she just sat there with tears running down her face wondering why the hell no one was giving her a hug. Hugs were traditional when someone was balling their eyes out and except for the stupid traditions and the mean spirited traditions and the traditions based entirely on the humiliation of others she could be as tradition bound as the next person.
Apparently she wasn't the only person aware of tradition. Consolation came from the most unlikeliest of quarters as Lana offered comfort to a girl who'd gone from self confident and plucky to a complete wreck in a matter of days.
"Did Chloe drive today?"
"What?"
"Pete, did Chloe drive to school today or did she take the bus."
"She must have driven."
"Then find her keys and go get her car, drive it around to the doors down the hall. I'll meet you outside in a couple of minutes."
"Where are we going?"
"To find out what's wrong with Clark."
Chloe didn't hear Pete make any kind of response, but shortly after she did hear the jingle of keys followed by the sound of the Torch office door closing. Several minutes later they were in Chloe's car, driving to the Kent farm, while Chloe looked out the window trying to figure out how exactly she was going to explain the exodus to Martha and Jonathon Kent.
In response to your question Kesha : Ok, I'm not sure how long this is going to end up but I'm guessing roughly another 5 or 6 chapters not including the second half of chapter 8. That's very rough by the way. As an example, originally chapters 8 and 9 were both going to fit as a single chapter, but in the end I felt I needed more room so it's quite possible things will stretch out longer. After I'm done the entire story I'll probably go back and do a revision of the whole thing, assuming I can find the energy as that will be allot of work. If, after I've completed the revision, you still want to repost it, you'll be more than welcome to. Just get in touch with me via email after I'm done :).
In response to Sarah : I didn't want to go anywhere near Lex, not because I don't like the character (I do like the character) but because he brings an entire plot line with him that would be hard to ignore. The foundation and corruption of the relationship between Clark and Lex is almost the entire foundation upon which Smallville rests, and by far its strongest aspect, and the story I wanted to tell is outside that. So to avoid potential baggage, I just wrote him out entirely.
It's great to hear that people are still reading and enjoying : ) Hope this next part continues to appeal.
Thanks.
Shadows : Chapter 8a
Chloe woke to a crashing sound as if the front door had been literally smashed in. Feet pounded up the stairs followed by yelling, the shocked sound of her father's voice raised in protest. On the first thundering impact against her door Chloe pushed herself against the back of her bed, pulling the covers around herself in a futile but instinctive attempt to hide.
It wasn't even locked.
The door collapsed inward and she found herself facing Clark's wild eyes as he stared at her, his hair in complete disarray, and his right hand covered in gray powder. He just stood there looking at her while his chest rose and fell as if he couldn't remember how to breath. He was looking right at her but for some reason he wasn't seeing her.
"Clark?"
Fear, confusion, disbelief, all flashed in sequence across his features before he collapsed in the corner of the room.
"Chloe, what the hell…" Her father sounded angry but it didn't matter. Something had happened, something horrible. It wasn't Clark in her room it was a vestige of him, as if the rest had been beaten until it ran as far away as it could, until it found a place to hide. Throwing herself out of bed she dropped to the floor beside him. Chloe tried to pull Clark towards her but it was like wrestling with a piece of stone.
"Clark, you're ok. Everything is ok." Chloe leaned forward, willing him to see her. "Clark."
"Chloe?" His voice broke. For a moment she thought he'd heard her but then she realized he was somewhere else entirely. His eyes were dilated, jumping around the room as he focussed on things that only he could see. His fist flew downwards, ripping apart the carpet and embedding itself in the wooden floor beneath.
"Chloe?" It was the voice of her father again, concerned, confused, and asking her what he should do.
"Call his parents dad. Just call his parents." He watched Clark for a moment, eyes drawn to the spot where his hand had crashed through the floor.
"Dad, please…" He nodded reluctantly before going, obviously reticent to leave his daughter alone with a madman but that didn't matter as long as he made the call and…
What did it do to you Clark?
How did you help a person who had completely and utterly lost their grip on reality? Why here, why had he barged into her home, into her bedroom, what had he expected to find? Staring into his terrified gaze she realized that whatever it was, that's exactly what he'd found.
"Clark, I'm here. It's me, Chloe." Nothing, he was starting to quiet down but not in a good way. Even as she watched she could see the fight draining out of him as he let whatever world he'd fallen into take him apart piece by piece.
"Clark, you're ok." She felt tears surface at the feeling of helplessness but she blinked them dry. Later, she'd cry later.
Her room… he'd come to her room.
"Clark, I'm ok." She didn't know why she said it but it was like finding the key to a lock. For the briefest second he saw her, really saw her, looked straight at her and knew what he was seeing. She repeated the phrase, turning the key, trying to make him understand.
Something inside him snapped and all at once he went completely limp.
God Clark please be ok…
Gently Chloe pulled at him again, this time finding no resistance as she tried to draw him against her like a child. She brushed her fingers through his hair, moving it out of the way before leaning down to touch her lips to his forehead. Whispering assurances to him she gently stroked her hand along his face. Reassuring him, calming him, trying to bring him back.
When her father returned he found Clark Kent lying unconscious, asleep in his daughters arms, while she held him and cried quietly.
"Chloe, what happened?"
She just shook her head, she couldn't tell him without sharing a secret that wasn't hers to share. But even if she couldn't say it, she knew exactly what had happened.
She'd been right. It had gotten creative.
Kiang Shi, Succubi… Succubi? She'd thought those were daemons.
The vast array of descriptions that could be brought together under the label of Vampire was daunting. At the essence of most types was a need to feed off of people in some manner and an association with death but some of the gypsy brand vampires were apparently considered fully functional members of society.
"Chloe?"
"Pete." Her previous assessment of the creature had been based off of the assumption that all these legends and the vast array of compiled folklore held superstitious falsities grown through centuries of exaggeration. Assumptions were dangerous, even when they led to the right answer they needed to be questioned and reevaluated.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." That was the third, no, fourth time she'd been asked that question that morning and Chloe couldn't figure out why everyone seemed to think something was wrong with her. Clothes in order? Check. Hair in place? Check. Eyes dry and focussed? Check. Voice steady? Not only solid but also full of journalistic confidence. "Did you want something Pete?"
He had his eyebrows raised. What had she done to deserve raised eyebrows? "I was wondering if you could tell me where Chloe Sullivan is. Last I heard she was headed here but," Pete made an exaggerated show of looking around the office, "I don't see any sign of her."
"Sure." If she ever tried to write an article on what she'd seen what kind of reaction would she get? Disbelief, accusations of insanity, in short she'd be labeled a kook and ignored. That was exactly what she'd tried to do to the majority of vampire references, label them kooks and forget about them to focus on the equally kooky but more immediately applicable Slavic origin vampires. But didn't giving any credence to the Slavic legends require that she give equal consideration to all of them?
Suddenly the monitor she'd been staring at turned black. What the hell? Reaching forward to the power button she found the way obstructed by Pete's hand. When had that gotten there?
"Pete, I'm kind of busy right now?"
"Sure you are, looking up vampires. Are you writing an article on them?"
"No but…"
"Are you doing a school assignment on them?"
"No but… yah, actually that's it. My history teacher has a supernatural fixation. Now if you don't mind." She tried to push his hand out of the way so she could turn the monitor back on. She'd been looking at an interesting article on the migration of vampire stories across the European continent and needed to take some notes on...
"Liar"
"Ok, I give up. I'm all ears Pete." Chloe crossed her arms and relaxed in the chair, silently willing him to go away and let her work.
"What is with you?" He sounded almost accusing. What right did he have to be annoyed with her?
"Nothing is 'with' me Pete. Not PMS, not luck, not even the Schwartz. Now I'd really love to continue this engrossing conversation at a completely distinct and unrelated time to this one. Which means you should leave and let me get some work done because I'm not about to have the same conversation twice." That didn't make much sense. Whatever. He finally let her push his hand out of the way and turn her monitor back on. There was the article, right where she'd left it.
"Yah, all right." He had that soft little boy tone to his voice as if she'd hurt his feelings. Oh well, sometimes people get hurt. It was a long article, maybe she'd just print it and a couple more out to read next period. "Where's Clark today?"
"He's sick." Yes, there we go. Here's another good one. How had she managed to open up so many browser windows all at the same time?
"Really."
"Yes."
"Clark is sick."
When did Pete lose his hearing? "Yes."
"Clark doesn't get sick."
"Everyone gets sick." Shut down these, send these to the printer and book mark these pages because she'd have to check them over later.
"No, I've known Clark since the beginning of time and he has never been away from school sick. I don't think he even got the chicken pocks and everyone gets the chicken pox."
Clark didn't get sick? That made sense. What was a little germ going to do to an alien that could put its fist through a floor?
Why was her eye wet? Rubbing the moisture away she focussed on cleaning up the mess she'd made of her desktop. She'd opened more links than she could possibly keep track of, it seemed such a stupid way to do research. Now that was interesting, a section about a type of female vampire that could actually bare children. It had nothing what so ever to do with the Slavic legends but…
Where do vampires come from?
Right in the same culture was a vampire that ate children. How did those people sleep at night?
"You did hear about last night's massacre, right?" Chloe frowned, she had no idea what he was talking about. "They pulled twenty dead bodies out of a hotel in Smallville central this morning. It happens to be the same hotel that you and Clark were investigating because he found a bloodstain. What makes this even weirder is that a whole pile of federal agents tried to cover it up but there was too much of a mess for them to pull it off. That's not even the most interesting thing though, no the most interesting thing is that everyone in the school is gabbing about it, that its all over the news papers and the radio, and that you've been so busy walking around like a zombie all morning that you don't even have a clue!"
Someone knocked on the door. "Hi, I seem to be chalk full of bad timing lately. Clark was supposed to meet me at lunch but he never showed up. I was wondering if you know where he is."
"Oh, he's sick." Pete infused the statement with an entirely inordinate amount of sarcasm.
"Really? Nothing serious I hope." Somehow Lana managed to fill the simple statement with every ounce of concern and understanding that only a voice like hers could manage.
"See that's really part of the debate in progress."
Why was he looking at her? If he wanted to grill someone he could call Clark's parents for all she cared but there was no reason to put her through an interrogation.
Now Lana was looking at Chloe too, like something was wrong with her. She was perfectly fine, she'd be perfectly fine if they'd just go away and let her do her work. "Chloe, are you ok?"
"God, he won't wake up. Ok you guys? He won't wake up." Her eyes were wet again. How many times had she cried that week? Once after the vampire tried to kill her, once last night, again now. She was becoming a regular sieve and it was starting to become degrading.
She shouldn't have said anything. She'd made the decision last night not to say anything about it because she couldn't explain it. He trusted her to keep her mouth shut. Pete was just standing there shocked and it was Lana who reacted. She got down in front of Chloe's chair for some reason and put her hands on Chloe's arms. "Chloe, what do you mean he won't wake up."
He'd fallen asleep in her arms after she calmed him down and he'd seemed so peaceful and she'd been sure everything was going to be ok. Then his parents had shown up, and everyone had tried to wake him so they could ask what was wrong. It had been like trying to wake someone from a coma. His parents had said they'd bring him home, his father had been so certain that he must just be exhausted and everything would be fine.
When she called that morning they still hadn't been able to wake him up. They'd promised to call her when he woke up and they still hadn't which meant he was still refusing to wake up.
"He just, he just won't wake up. He showed up at my place last night completely freaked out and then he collapsed and he just won't wake up." Chloe, you have now entered the zone of bottled up emotions. Put a cap on, twist, wait for explosion. Good going girl. Nice one. Now they're going to ask why he's not at a hospital…
"Chloe if they don't know what's wrong why isn't he at a hospital?" It was Pete, calm and collected. Apparently since she and Clark were both out of commission he saw it as his place to take up the role of responsible adult. Lana hadn't said a word but she was obviously wondering the same thing.
And Chloe couldn't answer them. She knew the answer, but she couldn't tell them. Without any idea what to say she just sat there with tears running down her face wondering why the hell no one was giving her a hug. Hugs were traditional when someone was balling their eyes out and except for the stupid traditions and the mean spirited traditions and the traditions based entirely on the humiliation of others she could be as tradition bound as the next person.
Apparently she wasn't the only person aware of tradition. Consolation came from the most unlikeliest of quarters as Lana offered comfort to a girl who'd gone from self confident and plucky to a complete wreck in a matter of days.
"Did Chloe drive today?"
"What?"
"Pete, did Chloe drive to school today or did she take the bus."
"She must have driven."
"Then find her keys and go get her car, drive it around to the doors down the hall. I'll meet you outside in a couple of minutes."
"Where are we going?"
"To find out what's wrong with Clark."
Chloe didn't hear Pete make any kind of response, but shortly after she did hear the jingle of keys followed by the sound of the Torch office door closing. Several minutes later they were in Chloe's car, driving to the Kent farm, while Chloe looked out the window trying to figure out how exactly she was going to explain the exodus to Martha and Jonathon Kent.
