It wasn't that Clark didn't notice that Chloe was female. Pete had often accused him of this --implicitly or explicitly-- but the very thought was absurd. Of course he knew, on a totally assumptive level, that Chloe was female. In the same way he knew that she, like him, breathed nitrogen and oxygen and needed to eat and sleep. It was knowledge *a priori*, no new discovery or epiphany. Chloe herself, with her big clunky shoes and her purposely outrageous wardrobe, seemed to recognize her own femininity in only the most peripheral of ways, and then only when absolutely necessary. It was comforting, almost, at least for Clark. Chloe was nothing sexual to Clark, and... safe. Not like Lana, who...
Had never made out with Whitney quite so enthusiastically as Chloe was on the desk in front of the Wall of the Weird that day after school.
It took a while for Clark's brain to register exactly what he was seeing. It was as though someone had sliced a few frames from another reality into Clark's own, so far was it from everything he knew. It was only when he saw how Whitney's hand sliding up Chloe's leg was making her tighten her grip through Whitney's hair that finally snapped Clark back to his senses.
He supersped it out of there, barely able to breathe, and went directly to his loft. To think. Clark had a lot of thinking to do.
******************
"Whitney!" Clark's familiar, muted tenor ringing across the school parking lot made the other boy turn to face him. Whitney's entire posture broadcast impatience.
"What do you want?"
Clark studied Whitney's face for a moment, the lines of his own all grim determination. He took so long that Whitney finally blurted out, "Got something to say?"
"Yeah... I've got something to say." Clark faltered. "I-- I know about you and Chloe, Whitney."
Whitney's twitching jaw muscle was the only giveaway that Clark had struck a nerve. "I don't know what you're talking about," Whitney said, his voice remarkably toneless. "Now, if you don't mind, I was on my way to--"
"I saw you guys kissing in the back of the Torch office yesterday," Clark had said it all in one breath, as though it had actually all been one long word. He braced himself for the anger and denial that was sure to come.
Instead, Whitney asked quietly, "Does Lana know?'
Clark shook his head.
"Wow, Kent, I'm surprised you didn't race over to her to tell her the news yourself," Whitney said, his voice oozing sarcasm.
Clark set his jaw and said pointedly, "I didn't want to hurt her."
At that, Whitney laughed dryly. "Oh, I know, you'd never hurt Lana," he said. "It's everyone else whose feelings don't matter."
"Whitney, I don't know why you're always so angry with me, but I swear, if you hurt Chloe--"
"Me? Hurt Chloe? Oh, that's rich! You've practically turned that into a fucking art form."
Clark's brow furrowed in confusion. This was definitely not the reaction he'd been expecting. "Look, you either tell Lana yourself, or--"
"Or what? You will?" Whitney huffed derisively. "Is that before or after she tells me you were in her bedroom while I was in Metropolis last week?" Clark's jaw went slack with shock as Whitney pressed on: "Yeah, I guess I'm not the big idiot you wish I were, huh, Kent? See, I saw you. Me and Chloe both saw you. We went to her house and saw your truck and--" Whitney's breath hitched with emotion, and he suddenly had to look away, lips pressed together in grim resentment.
"So what's Chloe-- revenge?" Clark said after a moment. "If that's how it is, then you're an even bigger lowlife than I ever thought. You don't deserve either of them." He fully expected Whitney to deck him. He even watched the other boy clench and unclench his fist, then relax.
Whitney shifted his weight until he was nose to nose with Clark, and his next words came out low and defiant.
"You. Know. Jack." Whitney stared at Clark, almost serene. "And I don't know who you think you are, but you can't judge what *anybody* deserves. I don't need to explain myself to you, but since you already fucked up my last relationship, I'm not gonna give you a way to fuck up my next one."
"Whitney, look, for whatever it's worth, that night-- nothing happened, we just--"
"I don't wanna hear it!" Whitney waved him into silence abruptly. "I keep telling you I'm not a fucking moron and I know exactly what's going on. And if it were up to me right now, I'd be doing things differently. But I care about Chloe, and I don't want people talking crap about her. I get to leave Smallville High this May; she doesn't. When we're good and ready, people will know what they need to know. You understand?"
"But Lana--"
"Lana will be fine," Whitney said patiently, his voice like a razor. "She's got you, doesn't she?"
Clark averted his gaze.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. So if you care about Chloe like you say you do, you'll let me handle this for once."
Clark's nostrils flared with anger, but he kept silent, saying only, "I don't trust you."
"Yeah, well, if it makes you feel better, I trust you even less," Whitney retorted. "But you know what? At the end of the day, this is still not your business. Anyway, what do you care? You don't want Chloe; not like that."
"Chloe's my friend," Clark said, sounding like a protest. "I don't want her used as a... a replacement for Lana."
"The irony here is fucking unbearable."
Clark's next words died on his lips, and he pressed them together, abashed as Whitney let out a tense breath. "Look, I have to go."
Clark nodded. "Just promise me you'll-- you'll treat Chloe the way she deserves to be treated."
Whitney gave him a hard glare. "Y'know, I know I've told you... things before. Because for some crazy reason, as much as I don't want to, there's a part of me that-- that trusts you. At least about some things. Now it's time you do me the same favor."
"I just want... whatever makes Chloe happy," Clark said, miserable.
At that, Whitney's lips twisted into an ironic grin. "Just think, Kent. I may be it."
Still lost in thought, Clark watched Whitney's truck speed off a few seconds later.
***************************
"So... tell me about Justin."
"Justin who?"
"That guy at the Torch-- hey, are you blushing?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Whitney."
"I saw him checking you out, you know."
"You think everybody checks me out."
"That's cause everybody does."
At that, Chloe laughed. "Whatever! Anyway, he so wasn't."
"Hooo-oh, he so was. I actually think he likes you. Seriously."
Chloe shrugged. "We've been friends a long time, is all."
"Just be careful."
"Why?"
"Because." Whitney sighed. "He just creeps me out a little. He just seems like the kinda guy that'll snap easy."
"I think you're just jealous," she teased, but he didn't smile.
"I'm telling you, there's something a little off about that guy."
"You're so cute to worry about me."
"Don't make me sorry I said anything, missy."
Chloe pretended to swoon. "Ooh, I love it when you get all John Wayne on me!"
"John who?"
"People *have* told you that you're hopeless, right?"
He grinned, looking quite like a cat with a bellyful of canary. "Yeah, but I never listen."
"It's what I like about this thing we've got going here, you know? That thin line between love and want-to-strangle."
He laughed. "Ain't it grand?"
And he thought her smile could light up the whole sky just then. "Yeah, you know... it's kinda growing on me."
**********************************
It should have been her standing next to him on that awful day, but he was far too crushed to distinguish between shoulders to cry on. Had Mr. Fordman hung on long enough for his son to have sorted through the confusion in his personal life, and work up enough courage to make the necessary choices, Whitney would have been groping through the downpour for Chloe, and with all of Smallville watching as she readily reached back to grasp his hand.
Instead, even in death Mr. Fordman had been unable to cut Whitney even that much slack, and had done things the way he always had-- his way-- and now Whitney stood flanked by Lana and his mother, sobs blinding him with equal parts loss and regret.
He didn't even notice the look that passed between Clark and Lana as he turned to leave the funeral. But Chloe noticed. It made her wish she hadn't blinked away the raindrops quite so hard.
**************************
"Hey, Chloe?"
"Hmmm?"
"You ever wonder if Clark--" Whitney's voice dropped off and he frowned thoughtfully.
"If Clark what?"
"Nothing, forget it."
"No, what were you going to say?"
"Nothing, you'd just think I was being a jealous jerk."
"Whitney, you know I'm incurably nosy, so why don't we just skip the part where I whine until you cant stand it any more and just get right to the part where you say what you were going to say?"
"Wow. Pain in the *ass*."
She propped herself up on one elbow and shifted around on the truck's bed, so that she was staring down her nose at him, nice and stern. "Spill it now, Fordman."
"I was just going to ask if you ever wonder how Clark's able to just rescue people all the damn time."
"I *know* how. He's got a guilt complex that makes Catholicism seem like a walk in the park."
"That's why, not how." Whitney sighed. The past few weeks had taken a lot out of both of them, and Chloe studied the evidence he had to show for it around his eyes as he went on. "I mean, how the hell did he find you buried in the middle of that field?" He felt her shudder next to him, and he instantly regretted mentioning it so casually. He scooted closer and hugged her tighter instinctively. "I'm glad as all hell that he did, don't think for an instant--" And he kissed the tip of her nose.
"I thought Lana saw where I was in her-- whatever. Visions."
"I don't know," Whitney admitted. "I don't like asking her about it. She... we didn't talk about it."
Chloe nodded. "That's how he knew though. How else do you explain it?"
"I was thinking..." He bit his lip, but went on. "I was thinking he was maybe one of the meteor freaks."
Quite suddenly, Chloe's mouth was the perfect O. "Have you lost your mind?"
"It's just a thought! I mean, think about it. How did he get you out of the ground all by himself?"
"This is the stupidest idea, like, ever."
"What? Why?!"
"Because, hello! I'm his best friend, and very, very little gets by me." She seemed exceedingly smug at that moment.
"Yeah, I noticed," Whitney retorted.
"Sooo-- don't you think I would have noticed something all this time?"
"I guess."
"Right. Besides, what's his mutation? An uncanny knack for being at the right place at the right time?"
"OK, OK," he said, exasperated and laughing. "It didn't sound so stupid in my head."
She grinned, then added, "Anyway, Clark can't possibly be a meteor freak. They all always turn out to be evil."
Whitney gave her a dubious look, and she rolled her eyes.
"Oh, just shut up and kiss me, Fordman."
*******************************
TBC...
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sorry this took so long to post here at FF.Net. It's actually been up in its entirety on my web site at http://www.geocities.com/misswyndy/vastmain.htm for several months. For everyone else, I sure hope the wait was worth it.
Had never made out with Whitney quite so enthusiastically as Chloe was on the desk in front of the Wall of the Weird that day after school.
It took a while for Clark's brain to register exactly what he was seeing. It was as though someone had sliced a few frames from another reality into Clark's own, so far was it from everything he knew. It was only when he saw how Whitney's hand sliding up Chloe's leg was making her tighten her grip through Whitney's hair that finally snapped Clark back to his senses.
He supersped it out of there, barely able to breathe, and went directly to his loft. To think. Clark had a lot of thinking to do.
******************
"Whitney!" Clark's familiar, muted tenor ringing across the school parking lot made the other boy turn to face him. Whitney's entire posture broadcast impatience.
"What do you want?"
Clark studied Whitney's face for a moment, the lines of his own all grim determination. He took so long that Whitney finally blurted out, "Got something to say?"
"Yeah... I've got something to say." Clark faltered. "I-- I know about you and Chloe, Whitney."
Whitney's twitching jaw muscle was the only giveaway that Clark had struck a nerve. "I don't know what you're talking about," Whitney said, his voice remarkably toneless. "Now, if you don't mind, I was on my way to--"
"I saw you guys kissing in the back of the Torch office yesterday," Clark had said it all in one breath, as though it had actually all been one long word. He braced himself for the anger and denial that was sure to come.
Instead, Whitney asked quietly, "Does Lana know?'
Clark shook his head.
"Wow, Kent, I'm surprised you didn't race over to her to tell her the news yourself," Whitney said, his voice oozing sarcasm.
Clark set his jaw and said pointedly, "I didn't want to hurt her."
At that, Whitney laughed dryly. "Oh, I know, you'd never hurt Lana," he said. "It's everyone else whose feelings don't matter."
"Whitney, I don't know why you're always so angry with me, but I swear, if you hurt Chloe--"
"Me? Hurt Chloe? Oh, that's rich! You've practically turned that into a fucking art form."
Clark's brow furrowed in confusion. This was definitely not the reaction he'd been expecting. "Look, you either tell Lana yourself, or--"
"Or what? You will?" Whitney huffed derisively. "Is that before or after she tells me you were in her bedroom while I was in Metropolis last week?" Clark's jaw went slack with shock as Whitney pressed on: "Yeah, I guess I'm not the big idiot you wish I were, huh, Kent? See, I saw you. Me and Chloe both saw you. We went to her house and saw your truck and--" Whitney's breath hitched with emotion, and he suddenly had to look away, lips pressed together in grim resentment.
"So what's Chloe-- revenge?" Clark said after a moment. "If that's how it is, then you're an even bigger lowlife than I ever thought. You don't deserve either of them." He fully expected Whitney to deck him. He even watched the other boy clench and unclench his fist, then relax.
Whitney shifted his weight until he was nose to nose with Clark, and his next words came out low and defiant.
"You. Know. Jack." Whitney stared at Clark, almost serene. "And I don't know who you think you are, but you can't judge what *anybody* deserves. I don't need to explain myself to you, but since you already fucked up my last relationship, I'm not gonna give you a way to fuck up my next one."
"Whitney, look, for whatever it's worth, that night-- nothing happened, we just--"
"I don't wanna hear it!" Whitney waved him into silence abruptly. "I keep telling you I'm not a fucking moron and I know exactly what's going on. And if it were up to me right now, I'd be doing things differently. But I care about Chloe, and I don't want people talking crap about her. I get to leave Smallville High this May; she doesn't. When we're good and ready, people will know what they need to know. You understand?"
"But Lana--"
"Lana will be fine," Whitney said patiently, his voice like a razor. "She's got you, doesn't she?"
Clark averted his gaze.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. So if you care about Chloe like you say you do, you'll let me handle this for once."
Clark's nostrils flared with anger, but he kept silent, saying only, "I don't trust you."
"Yeah, well, if it makes you feel better, I trust you even less," Whitney retorted. "But you know what? At the end of the day, this is still not your business. Anyway, what do you care? You don't want Chloe; not like that."
"Chloe's my friend," Clark said, sounding like a protest. "I don't want her used as a... a replacement for Lana."
"The irony here is fucking unbearable."
Clark's next words died on his lips, and he pressed them together, abashed as Whitney let out a tense breath. "Look, I have to go."
Clark nodded. "Just promise me you'll-- you'll treat Chloe the way she deserves to be treated."
Whitney gave him a hard glare. "Y'know, I know I've told you... things before. Because for some crazy reason, as much as I don't want to, there's a part of me that-- that trusts you. At least about some things. Now it's time you do me the same favor."
"I just want... whatever makes Chloe happy," Clark said, miserable.
At that, Whitney's lips twisted into an ironic grin. "Just think, Kent. I may be it."
Still lost in thought, Clark watched Whitney's truck speed off a few seconds later.
***************************
"So... tell me about Justin."
"Justin who?"
"That guy at the Torch-- hey, are you blushing?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Whitney."
"I saw him checking you out, you know."
"You think everybody checks me out."
"That's cause everybody does."
At that, Chloe laughed. "Whatever! Anyway, he so wasn't."
"Hooo-oh, he so was. I actually think he likes you. Seriously."
Chloe shrugged. "We've been friends a long time, is all."
"Just be careful."
"Why?"
"Because." Whitney sighed. "He just creeps me out a little. He just seems like the kinda guy that'll snap easy."
"I think you're just jealous," she teased, but he didn't smile.
"I'm telling you, there's something a little off about that guy."
"You're so cute to worry about me."
"Don't make me sorry I said anything, missy."
Chloe pretended to swoon. "Ooh, I love it when you get all John Wayne on me!"
"John who?"
"People *have* told you that you're hopeless, right?"
He grinned, looking quite like a cat with a bellyful of canary. "Yeah, but I never listen."
"It's what I like about this thing we've got going here, you know? That thin line between love and want-to-strangle."
He laughed. "Ain't it grand?"
And he thought her smile could light up the whole sky just then. "Yeah, you know... it's kinda growing on me."
**********************************
It should have been her standing next to him on that awful day, but he was far too crushed to distinguish between shoulders to cry on. Had Mr. Fordman hung on long enough for his son to have sorted through the confusion in his personal life, and work up enough courage to make the necessary choices, Whitney would have been groping through the downpour for Chloe, and with all of Smallville watching as she readily reached back to grasp his hand.
Instead, even in death Mr. Fordman had been unable to cut Whitney even that much slack, and had done things the way he always had-- his way-- and now Whitney stood flanked by Lana and his mother, sobs blinding him with equal parts loss and regret.
He didn't even notice the look that passed between Clark and Lana as he turned to leave the funeral. But Chloe noticed. It made her wish she hadn't blinked away the raindrops quite so hard.
**************************
"Hey, Chloe?"
"Hmmm?"
"You ever wonder if Clark--" Whitney's voice dropped off and he frowned thoughtfully.
"If Clark what?"
"Nothing, forget it."
"No, what were you going to say?"
"Nothing, you'd just think I was being a jealous jerk."
"Whitney, you know I'm incurably nosy, so why don't we just skip the part where I whine until you cant stand it any more and just get right to the part where you say what you were going to say?"
"Wow. Pain in the *ass*."
She propped herself up on one elbow and shifted around on the truck's bed, so that she was staring down her nose at him, nice and stern. "Spill it now, Fordman."
"I was just going to ask if you ever wonder how Clark's able to just rescue people all the damn time."
"I *know* how. He's got a guilt complex that makes Catholicism seem like a walk in the park."
"That's why, not how." Whitney sighed. The past few weeks had taken a lot out of both of them, and Chloe studied the evidence he had to show for it around his eyes as he went on. "I mean, how the hell did he find you buried in the middle of that field?" He felt her shudder next to him, and he instantly regretted mentioning it so casually. He scooted closer and hugged her tighter instinctively. "I'm glad as all hell that he did, don't think for an instant--" And he kissed the tip of her nose.
"I thought Lana saw where I was in her-- whatever. Visions."
"I don't know," Whitney admitted. "I don't like asking her about it. She... we didn't talk about it."
Chloe nodded. "That's how he knew though. How else do you explain it?"
"I was thinking..." He bit his lip, but went on. "I was thinking he was maybe one of the meteor freaks."
Quite suddenly, Chloe's mouth was the perfect O. "Have you lost your mind?"
"It's just a thought! I mean, think about it. How did he get you out of the ground all by himself?"
"This is the stupidest idea, like, ever."
"What? Why?!"
"Because, hello! I'm his best friend, and very, very little gets by me." She seemed exceedingly smug at that moment.
"Yeah, I noticed," Whitney retorted.
"Sooo-- don't you think I would have noticed something all this time?"
"I guess."
"Right. Besides, what's his mutation? An uncanny knack for being at the right place at the right time?"
"OK, OK," he said, exasperated and laughing. "It didn't sound so stupid in my head."
She grinned, then added, "Anyway, Clark can't possibly be a meteor freak. They all always turn out to be evil."
Whitney gave her a dubious look, and she rolled her eyes.
"Oh, just shut up and kiss me, Fordman."
*******************************
TBC...
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sorry this took so long to post here at FF.Net. It's actually been up in its entirety on my web site at http://www.geocities.com/misswyndy/vastmain.htm for several months. For everyone else, I sure hope the wait was worth it.