CHAPTER 6: REALIZATION
Heavy-hearted, Chloe dragged her feet down main street Smallville, purposely glancing away from the Talon as she approached it, knowing it was adorned with multiple "Sorry, We're Closed" signs. Oh how she would treasure it so if Lana's condition allowed for it to be open once more.
Her whole day of skipped classes had been filled with dilemmic thoughts of both remorse and self-pity, as well as skimming chills running down her spine at Lex's words: "There are plenty of other guys out there for you to pursue." But she could not avoid her pursuit of Clark . . . she tried not to think of that, but . . .
Not only was she now disappointed that never again would she fare a chance with her distantly beloved Clark, but she even felt a little bad at her own reaction. She had acted ignorantly and malignantly towards Lana, and mindfully so towards Clark.
"Chloe?! Is that you?!"
Chloe spun around at the sound of her name from a voice she had not heard for months.
Whitney grabbed her by the shoulders and embraced her generously. When he pulled away, shrugging, Chloe saw that he was grinning as if a massive slice of watermelon had been stuffed in his mouth rind side down.
It took the shock a few moments to hit her, but once she felt it, she nearly fell backwards at the aggressive hands of the impact. Whitney was back in Smallville. Back from . . . ? His prior location was unimportant at this point. The fact that he was back, back here, was the important thing. And the motive for his return? - for his joy? There was only one possible reason . . .
"Wow, Chloe, you look great." Inspecting her critically but affectionately, Whitney stepped closer to her and looked down at her face. "Did you get your hair cut?"
Whitney did not seem at all interested in her hair. His eyes were brimming with thrill, which seemed excitingly out of character. She knew because she looked straight into them. For a moment, Chloe could not tear her eyes away from his, which distractedly opposed her focus. Too shocked and suddenly drawn, she could not force herself to look earthward. "Like three months ago." she mumbled quietly. "I need to get it done again."
"Well it looks fantastic," Whitney cajoled her. "So what have you been up to lately?"
She stared at him for a moment before replying. The occurrence of a normal conversation with Whitney Fordman was just an eccentric idea, especially now that he was never around. Until now . . . "Working on the Torch, you know, the usual. Listen, Whitney, I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?"
Furrowing his brow, Whitney clucked his tongue. "Oh, you didn't hear? I assumed that you would know since you and Lana have been closer lately. She's -"
"- pregnant," Chloe finished. "I know. But I thought . . . "
"It's so wonderful to be back," Whitney gushed. "I'll never have to leave again. I asked her to marry me, you know."
But how could this be? This meant . . .
Chloe smiled at Whitney nervously, careless of Lana's reply to Whitney's proposal. "Well, it's great talking to you, but I have to go. I hope I'll see you again soon." She spun around and raced for the Kent farm. She owed Clark a big apology for ever thinking he could do something so hideous.
"You too . . . " Whitney called after her.
"What are you doing up here, Lana?" Clark mounted the final stairs leading up to his loft and moved across the room toward where Lana was positioned, gazing out into the dim afternoon skies. He could hardly bring himself to look at her. At least, he thought, she knew nothing of his erroneous presumption.
Lana turned and focused her eyes on Clark. "Thinking," she replied softly. "Thinking and breathing, living and dying."
Drawn by her silent depression, Clark seated himself beside her and took her hand in his, careful to avoid her eyes. "Anything you want to expand on?"
After a meaningful glance from her hand to Clark's face, Lana's eyes fell. "I'm thinking of aborting the baby," she blurted, complementary tears splattering the thin lining of dust on the floor.
"Oh, Lana." Clark gathered her up on his arms and held her close to him. He could say nothing else. How could he possibly heal the eternal wound on her heart, how could he kill the demons which perpetually tugged at it? Lana had come to him for help, but against the mortal intentions spilling forth from her lips, he felt powerless to care for her as she needed him to. Especially when he himself was in such a fragile state at learning of the truth.
"I don't want my life to change, Clark. But Whitney . . . " She laughed bitterly. "He wants to get married. Married? I'm so young, at mind and at heart. I don't love him. I just broke up with him, for crying out loud! I know doing it would hurt Whitney, but I can't help but feel that he hurt me first."
"Are you sure that an abortion wouldn't hurt you, too?" He winced. It was in Clark's nature to attempt to save a human life, but he bit his tongue as soon as he had said it. It certainly was not his place to interrupt Lana's business, but not only could he not bear for his love to be in pain, but he could not bear for a precious life to be terminated. Particularly when this child was going to be partly his . . . when he claimed Lana for his own. He narrowed his eyes in determination.
Lana broke away from him. "I didn't tell you my thoughts so you would stop me from thinking them," she told him angrily. Then, sarcastically, she went on. "I'm impressed, though, that you and Whitney agree on something. Maybe you'll be the best man at our wedding."
"I had enough of that at Lex's wedding," Clark joked feebly, trying to capture her eye once more. But Lana had turned her attention back to the parting wisps of cloud subtracted momentarily by sunlight. Wedding? Where had this phantom wedding come from? But of course, it made sense. A proposal of marriage had been what Clark himself had planned when he had been under the impression that the baby was his. Matrimony could be a good man's only sensible reaction to learning of such a thing.
"Why do I feel like no one cares about me?" Lana asked wearily, with good reason, though she knew not that Clark had been worried more about winning her from Whitney than he had been about her dire dilemma. "I can't face Nell; she seems to spurn me. You were so right about Chloe; all she wanted was information. I suspect she thinks that you're the father of my baby."
Clark recoiled at the theory of Chloe, but momentarily glowed at the prospect of finally getting what he wanted when she mentioned what had also been his own impression: if only he had been the father.
She continued. "Whitney, well he doesn't care what I think. He thinks the baby is just as well his, and yet he is not the one faced with this terrible dilemma. And you, Clark . . . " Lana trailed off.
"Me, Clark," he urged her, wrapping his arm around her tired shoulders. This could be his big chance. When Lana didn't reply, he inserted his own explanation, caressing the back of her neck gently. "I care about you Lana, and I'll support any decision you make as pertains to something as entrepreneurial as your business at the Talon, or something as physical as your own body. I'll always be here; after all, did you not come to me because you wanted someone to take care of you?"
In a slow-moted swoop, Clark moved in closer to Lana's lips, and initiated a kiss, intending to physically prove his ability to care for her. In the attainment of a goal he had aimed at for so many months, his heart fluttered, then triumphed, then tore.
Lana leaped up, glaring at Clark in utter repulsion. "How could you take advantage of me in such a vulnerable state?" she cried in horror. "Don't try to deny it, Clark, you know that's what you were doing. You've wanted to do that every since . . . " She clamped her eyes shut in terrible remembrance.
Clark jumped at the mention of their special time together. "How do you know it's Whitney, and not me?" he demanded, grabbing at her hands.
Pulling away angrily, Lana glared down at him. "I hope you feel as low as you truly are, just as deeply-ground as Whitney, who convinced me to bind myself to him so he wouldn't lose me. I'm not stupid; I have a concept of time, Clark. I know it's him. And just so you know, I wouldn't be any happier if you were the father.
"You try to control my decision, and make a big deal out of how you 'care' about me, but if you truly cared, you wouldn't have tried to move in when I have this . . . this monster consuming me!"
As Lana fled blindly from the loft, Clark stared after her, dumbfounded. Not at her reaction, for it was just in his unjust action. For, he realized in alarm, everything she had said about him was true.
Heavy-hearted, Chloe dragged her feet down main street Smallville, purposely glancing away from the Talon as she approached it, knowing it was adorned with multiple "Sorry, We're Closed" signs. Oh how she would treasure it so if Lana's condition allowed for it to be open once more.
Her whole day of skipped classes had been filled with dilemmic thoughts of both remorse and self-pity, as well as skimming chills running down her spine at Lex's words: "There are plenty of other guys out there for you to pursue." But she could not avoid her pursuit of Clark . . . she tried not to think of that, but . . .
Not only was she now disappointed that never again would she fare a chance with her distantly beloved Clark, but she even felt a little bad at her own reaction. She had acted ignorantly and malignantly towards Lana, and mindfully so towards Clark.
"Chloe?! Is that you?!"
Chloe spun around at the sound of her name from a voice she had not heard for months.
Whitney grabbed her by the shoulders and embraced her generously. When he pulled away, shrugging, Chloe saw that he was grinning as if a massive slice of watermelon had been stuffed in his mouth rind side down.
It took the shock a few moments to hit her, but once she felt it, she nearly fell backwards at the aggressive hands of the impact. Whitney was back in Smallville. Back from . . . ? His prior location was unimportant at this point. The fact that he was back, back here, was the important thing. And the motive for his return? - for his joy? There was only one possible reason . . .
"Wow, Chloe, you look great." Inspecting her critically but affectionately, Whitney stepped closer to her and looked down at her face. "Did you get your hair cut?"
Whitney did not seem at all interested in her hair. His eyes were brimming with thrill, which seemed excitingly out of character. She knew because she looked straight into them. For a moment, Chloe could not tear her eyes away from his, which distractedly opposed her focus. Too shocked and suddenly drawn, she could not force herself to look earthward. "Like three months ago." she mumbled quietly. "I need to get it done again."
"Well it looks fantastic," Whitney cajoled her. "So what have you been up to lately?"
She stared at him for a moment before replying. The occurrence of a normal conversation with Whitney Fordman was just an eccentric idea, especially now that he was never around. Until now . . . "Working on the Torch, you know, the usual. Listen, Whitney, I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?"
Furrowing his brow, Whitney clucked his tongue. "Oh, you didn't hear? I assumed that you would know since you and Lana have been closer lately. She's -"
"- pregnant," Chloe finished. "I know. But I thought . . . "
"It's so wonderful to be back," Whitney gushed. "I'll never have to leave again. I asked her to marry me, you know."
But how could this be? This meant . . .
Chloe smiled at Whitney nervously, careless of Lana's reply to Whitney's proposal. "Well, it's great talking to you, but I have to go. I hope I'll see you again soon." She spun around and raced for the Kent farm. She owed Clark a big apology for ever thinking he could do something so hideous.
"You too . . . " Whitney called after her.
"What are you doing up here, Lana?" Clark mounted the final stairs leading up to his loft and moved across the room toward where Lana was positioned, gazing out into the dim afternoon skies. He could hardly bring himself to look at her. At least, he thought, she knew nothing of his erroneous presumption.
Lana turned and focused her eyes on Clark. "Thinking," she replied softly. "Thinking and breathing, living and dying."
Drawn by her silent depression, Clark seated himself beside her and took her hand in his, careful to avoid her eyes. "Anything you want to expand on?"
After a meaningful glance from her hand to Clark's face, Lana's eyes fell. "I'm thinking of aborting the baby," she blurted, complementary tears splattering the thin lining of dust on the floor.
"Oh, Lana." Clark gathered her up on his arms and held her close to him. He could say nothing else. How could he possibly heal the eternal wound on her heart, how could he kill the demons which perpetually tugged at it? Lana had come to him for help, but against the mortal intentions spilling forth from her lips, he felt powerless to care for her as she needed him to. Especially when he himself was in such a fragile state at learning of the truth.
"I don't want my life to change, Clark. But Whitney . . . " She laughed bitterly. "He wants to get married. Married? I'm so young, at mind and at heart. I don't love him. I just broke up with him, for crying out loud! I know doing it would hurt Whitney, but I can't help but feel that he hurt me first."
"Are you sure that an abortion wouldn't hurt you, too?" He winced. It was in Clark's nature to attempt to save a human life, but he bit his tongue as soon as he had said it. It certainly was not his place to interrupt Lana's business, but not only could he not bear for his love to be in pain, but he could not bear for a precious life to be terminated. Particularly when this child was going to be partly his . . . when he claimed Lana for his own. He narrowed his eyes in determination.
Lana broke away from him. "I didn't tell you my thoughts so you would stop me from thinking them," she told him angrily. Then, sarcastically, she went on. "I'm impressed, though, that you and Whitney agree on something. Maybe you'll be the best man at our wedding."
"I had enough of that at Lex's wedding," Clark joked feebly, trying to capture her eye once more. But Lana had turned her attention back to the parting wisps of cloud subtracted momentarily by sunlight. Wedding? Where had this phantom wedding come from? But of course, it made sense. A proposal of marriage had been what Clark himself had planned when he had been under the impression that the baby was his. Matrimony could be a good man's only sensible reaction to learning of such a thing.
"Why do I feel like no one cares about me?" Lana asked wearily, with good reason, though she knew not that Clark had been worried more about winning her from Whitney than he had been about her dire dilemma. "I can't face Nell; she seems to spurn me. You were so right about Chloe; all she wanted was information. I suspect she thinks that you're the father of my baby."
Clark recoiled at the theory of Chloe, but momentarily glowed at the prospect of finally getting what he wanted when she mentioned what had also been his own impression: if only he had been the father.
She continued. "Whitney, well he doesn't care what I think. He thinks the baby is just as well his, and yet he is not the one faced with this terrible dilemma. And you, Clark . . . " Lana trailed off.
"Me, Clark," he urged her, wrapping his arm around her tired shoulders. This could be his big chance. When Lana didn't reply, he inserted his own explanation, caressing the back of her neck gently. "I care about you Lana, and I'll support any decision you make as pertains to something as entrepreneurial as your business at the Talon, or something as physical as your own body. I'll always be here; after all, did you not come to me because you wanted someone to take care of you?"
In a slow-moted swoop, Clark moved in closer to Lana's lips, and initiated a kiss, intending to physically prove his ability to care for her. In the attainment of a goal he had aimed at for so many months, his heart fluttered, then triumphed, then tore.
Lana leaped up, glaring at Clark in utter repulsion. "How could you take advantage of me in such a vulnerable state?" she cried in horror. "Don't try to deny it, Clark, you know that's what you were doing. You've wanted to do that every since . . . " She clamped her eyes shut in terrible remembrance.
Clark jumped at the mention of their special time together. "How do you know it's Whitney, and not me?" he demanded, grabbing at her hands.
Pulling away angrily, Lana glared down at him. "I hope you feel as low as you truly are, just as deeply-ground as Whitney, who convinced me to bind myself to him so he wouldn't lose me. I'm not stupid; I have a concept of time, Clark. I know it's him. And just so you know, I wouldn't be any happier if you were the father.
"You try to control my decision, and make a big deal out of how you 'care' about me, but if you truly cared, you wouldn't have tried to move in when I have this . . . this monster consuming me!"
As Lana fled blindly from the loft, Clark stared after her, dumbfounded. Not at her reaction, for it was just in his unjust action. For, he realized in alarm, everything she had said about him was true.