PART EIGHT

"I should strangle you, Clark Kent!" Chloe exclaimed. "Of course, you being invincible and all, it would be a waste of a good, homicidal rage. But it would make me feel better."

Invincible or not, Clark scooted an inch or two down on the sofa. A little space couldn't hurt.

"Thanks to your little stunts, I thought I was going nuts!" Chloe continued, hands gesturing wildly. "I mean, you're there. And I turn my back for a second, and you're gone! I thought I was having blackouts or something."

"Sorry," Clark mumbled. A guilty flush stained his cheeks. "But I only did it when there was an emergency. I swear."

"Hmmph!" Chloe rolled her eyes. "You just better hope I don't find out differently."

Cautiously, Clark studied his friend, and tried to decide how she was really taking it.

Well, she'd gone pale during the whole "stabbing" incident. And, when he'd explained why he wasn't lying on her kitchen floor bleeding to death, she'd gone a few paler shades of…pale. And her eyes were a little wider than usual.

But she seemed to be trying not to freak. In Clark's opinion, the fact that she'd started to yell at him was a good sign.

"So," Chloe said after a pause. "You're from…" And she pointed up towards the ceiling.

"Yeah. At least, that's what my parents say. I don't actually remember. And, well, I saw the ship. So…"

For several long moments, she just stared at him, her face blank of any expression. She did it for so long, Clark stared to feel self-conscious. Shoulders hunched, he almost reached up to see if there was anything on his face.

"Wow," Chloe finally said. And a slow smile lit up her face. "That is so cool."

Clark let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and relaxed into the sofa cushions.

"And you never bothered to tell me," Chloe continued as her smile melted into a thoughtful frown.

Clark winced. Maybe he'd relaxed too soon. "Well, Chloe, it's not the kind of thing you just…"

"But you told Pete," she interrupted. Her eyes narrowed. Her voice was disturbingly quiet.

Clark swallowed. Yeah. He'd relaxed way too soon.

"I sort of had to tell Pete," he explained. "I mean, he found my spaceship."

"Something you both lied to me about."

She wasn't pale anymore. In fact, her cheeks had gotten pretty rosy.

Clark braced himself, waiting for Chloe to lose her temper. And he couldn't blame her, could he? Yes, he'd had his reasons for keeping his secret a secret. And, with time, she might be able to understand them, just like Pete had. But, until then, she'd probably be able to think only one thing. That he hadn't trusted her. That he'd lied to her for all of these years, and…

"Oh, well," Chloe sighed. Whatever anger she'd felt drained out of her. "I guess I can't exactly get mad about it, can I?"

Clark was so sure of what was going to happen, it took a minute for his brain to absorb what did happened. Blinking owlishly, he stared at her. "Huh?"

"It would be like the pot calling the kettle 'black'. You know?" She shrugged. "After all, I wasn't going to tell you I was an Immortal, either."

"You what?" Clark exclaimed. He looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "What do you mean, you weren't going to tell me?"

Surprised by his reaction, Chloe reared back a little. "I mean, I wasn't going to tell you. Like you said, it's not the kind of thing you just…"

"You can't be serious," Clark interrupted. "How could you not tell me?"

Chloe stared at him, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. And, as Clark realized what he'd said—and how it could apply to both occupants of the room—he started to back pedal. "What I mean is, as your friend, you could've trusted me to…"

The eyebrow went a fraction of an inch higher. Only, now, it was joined by a smirk.

Clark's face turned red with embarrassment. "All I'm trying to say is, I don't see why you thought you had to hide…" Taking a deep breath, he sighed in defeat. "I don't think there's any way for me to win here."

"Nope," Chloe cheerfully agreed. "But you can keep trying. It's pretty entertaining."

Clark grinned, more with relief than anything else. He'd told her the truth. Chloe knew his secret. And she seemed to be okay.

And, being Chloe, curious. Knowing how long one of her question-and-answer sessions could be, Clark begged for snacks. And she broke out an impressive array of sodas, chips, and cookies (chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin).

Soon, they were lounging on the sofa, glancing occasionally at a TV show neither was really watching.

"So, what else can you do?" Chloe asked. "Besides deflect knives with your abs, bench press my sofa—which was pretty cool by the way—and run faster than a speeding bullet?"

Clark gave her a skeptical look. "Faster than a speeding bullet?"

Chloe shrugged. "It just came to me."

Smiling, Clark popped the top on a can of soda. "Well, I have heat vision. I can light a candle just by looking at it."

"Must come in handy when the power goes out." She nibbled on a nacho chip. "That's one of your new powers, right?"

"Yeah," Clark agreed. Not that he'd tell her how that particular ability first activated. There were some things you just didn't tell a girl. Even if she was your best friend. "Oh, and I can see…" he started to say. Then, he stumbled to an abrupt halt.

He'd just remembered some of the things he'd…uh, seen using his X-ray vision. Not that he was himself at the time. But, if Chloe asked, he doubted he'd be able to lie about it convincingly. And of course she would ask. Anyone who found out their friend could see through stuff—like clothes—was gonna ask!

 "What?" Chloe finally demanded. "You can see what?"

"Uh, a long way off," he said, unable to look her in the eye. "I can see a lot farther than most people."

"Oh. Well, that's cool. You'll never have to wear glasses then, huh?"

Clark scoffed at the idea. "I really doubt it."

He told her about some of the 'adventures' he'd had in the past year and a half. Including the whole truth about some of the times he'd rescued her.

"Some reporter I am," she snorted. "Not that I didn't notice something weird was going on with you. But, instead of investigating, asking probing questions, I always explained it away. Or believed one of you're really lame excuses."

"Hey!" Clark exclaimed. He'd thought some of his excuses were pretty good. He could think fast on his feet when he had to. Most of the time.

But, before Clark could defend his skills of deception, the 'phone rang. As Chloe went to answer, Clark dug into a bag of cookies. All that talking made a guy hungry.

"Merrick, hey!" he heard Chloe say.

His stomach forgotten for the moment, Clark tuned in to her half of the conversation.

"Yeah…okay….Well, yeah. Yeah, right." She sent Clark an uneasy look. "Yeah, whenever…Tomorrow it is, then." She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. "No, I'm not going to show up in a hot pink leotard and turquoise leg warmers. Where do you get this… Alright!" Exasperated, she threw up one hand. "I'll be there tomorrow, and on time. Promise…Okay. 'Bye."

Chloe hung up the 'phone and returned to the sofa. "I mean, do I look like the pink leotard type?"

"Lex knows Merrick," Clark blurted out. He didn't mean to. He'd tried to find a subtle way to approach the subject. But, before he knew it, his mouth had opened, and there it was.

Chloe was caught off guard. "Huh?"

Chagrined, Clark hesitantly continued. "I just found out earlier today. Lex said he saw you two together, and he recognized Merrick."

"Oh. Well." Chloe frowned, her eyes distant and thoughtful. "He never mentioned knowing Lex. Of course, he's not really Mr. Let's Share. But, with the Luthors being Smallville's most famous residents, you'd think he would have said something."

"Maybe 'knows' is too strong a word," Clark hedged. "They only met once, so he might not remember."

Chloe snorted. "Who can forget Lex?"

Nodding in agreement, Clark continued. "Anyway, Merrick was doing some security work for one of Lex's acquaintances." He gave her a cautious glance. "Lex said Merrick seemed kind of…dangerous."

"Lex probably thinks everyone is dangerous in one way or another." She gave him a straightforward look. "And I know there's another side to Merrick. There has to be in order for him to have survived for over 100 years."

Clark gave her a perplexed look. "I thought you said he was Immortal, like you. If he can't die, what was there for him to survive from?"

For a few seconds, Chloe just stared at him, uncertainty plain in her eyes. She ran her hands up and down her jean-clad legs, a nervous gesture he had seen before. Then, suddenly, she stood up.

"Come on, Clark. Let's go for a walk."

________________________

Stepping around the toy truck someone had left in the middle of the sidewalk, Chloe glanced at Clark out of the corner of her eye. Looking at him made her heart pound in her chest. And not in the usual way.

This was Clark. The guy who blushed at the drop of a hat. The guy who loved peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The guy who still, on occasion, tripped over his own feet for no good reason.

How could he possibly be this physically superior being who hailed from some far-off planet in a distant galaxy?

She should probably be scared. Instead, she felt amazed. Astounded. In awe.

And she felt this incredible urge to say "Wow," over and over and over again.

But she remembered how she'd felt when she told Clark her secret. The fact that he'd seemed to take it in stride—and now she knew why—had been a huge relief. She figured the least she could do was try to return the favor.

Besides, they both had other things on their minds.

"Let me get this straight," Clark began, "This energy called the Quickening is what makes you Immortal. And, if another Immortal cuts off your head, they absorb your Quickening, which makes them stronger."

"Pretty much," Chloe agreed, watching for his reaction. Maybe it wasn't a spaceship hidden in the storm cellar, but what she was telling him had to be pretty freaky.

And he did look kind of freaked.

"And," he continued, "the only way to kill an Immortal is to chop of their head. And there are Immortals running around taking other Immortals' heads so they can get this Quickening stuff."

"Uh, yeah. That's the Cliff's Notes version."

Taking a few seconds to take that in, Clark looked completely mystified. "Why?"

"It's called the Game," Chloe's began. "See, there's this legend. One day, at the time of the Gathering, whatever Immortals are still wandering around will be mystically drawn to the same place. They'll fight each other, one-on-one, until there's only one left. And the one who's left will win the Prize. They will absorb the strength, knowledge and power of every Immortal who ever lived, which would make them the strongest person in the history of, well, history."

Clark had this sour expression on his face. It was a mix between disbelief and revulsion.

"I know," Chloe sighed. "It sounds crazy. In fact, a lot of Immortals don't believe it. Merrick thinks it's just a myth that evolved back in the day. You know, like Prometheus stealing fire from the gods and giving it to man. Or the story of Johnny Appleseed, which grew out of something that was true.

"Thing is, a lot of Immortals do believe in the Prize. They want to get as many Quickening as they can to prepare for the Gathering. So they'll be strong enough to win. And even if a headhunter doesn't believe in the Prize…" Chloe's shrug was fatalistic. "Well, taking Quickenings can almost be addicting. Merrick says it's a pretty big rush. Bigger than any drug." Chloe shook her head regretfully. "This is such a great story. And I can't write about it."

"Wait a minute!" Clark came to an abrupt stop. "You don't have to fight these 'headhunter' guys, right? I mean, if they don't know you're an Immortal…"

"Well, that's the thing," Chloe interrupted with a weak smile. "Immortals can sense each other. We feel this Buzz that lets us know another of our kind is nearby. So, if I run into an Immortal, they're going to know I'm one too. And, if they're a headhunter, I have to know how to…"

"Chloe! Hi!"

The sound of the familiar voice made Chloe groan. Eyes a little desperate, she turned to Clark. "Is invisibility one of your powers? And, if I stand really close to you, can I be invisible too?"

Clark gave her a confused frown. "Uh, no. And no."

"Crap," Chloe hissed. Sighing, she turned.

Megan Goresman was bounding towards her like an over-eager puppy, bright red curls bouncing cheerfully. Megan—dedicated gossip and full-time snoop—thought that, because Chloe wanted to be a reporter, she wanted to know everything about everything that happened anywhere in Smallville. The last big "news" she'd told Chloe was that she'd seen a neighbor buying hair color at a local grocery store. Which proved the woman wasn't a natural blond.

Chloe still didn't know what she was supposed to do with that bit of information.

"Chloe!" Megan called again, still a few yards away. "You'll never guess what happened!"

That was how Megan started every conversation. It was probably the first thing she said when her mom woke her up for school in the morning.

"What happened?" Chloe reluctantly asked.

As Megan arrived, she seemed to realize Chloe wasn't alone. Seeing Clark, her eyes grew wide, her mouth formed into an O. Looking up at him from her petite, 5 foot 1, her green eyes went distant and dreamy.

"Hi, Clark," she simpered with a coy smile.

Clark shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Uh, hi."

Chloe rolled her eyes. She was used to girls reacting this way to Clark. And, she hated to admit it, but she'd probably reacted this way herself a time or two.

"Megan, tell me everything!" Chloe exclaimed.

The enthusiastic invitation to talk was all it took to snap Megan out of her trance. Giving her head a hard shake, she turned her attention back to Chloe.

"You won't believe what happened to Sam Krager," Megan said, eyes sparkling.

Chloe froze, the name making her heart pound in her chest. As memories of yesterday's accident assailed her, a shiver raced up her spine.

Clark must've noticed the change in her. He watched her with worried eyes. "Chlo. What is it?"

Ignoring Clark, Chloe took a step closer to Megan. "What happened to him?"

"Well," the girl began. "He and my dad work at the same place, you know. Well, Sam didn't come to work this morning, and he wasn't answering his 'phone. So, on his lunch break, my dad went to his house. And guess what he found! Mr. Krager was lying on the floor, all bloody and bruised." Stepping closer, Megan lowered her voice, as if there was someone else around to hear. "He fell down the stairs."

Another shiver raced up Chloe's spine, memories of her first death still fresh. It seemed kind of ironic that the man who almost killed her the second time had also fallen down a flight of stairs.

"My dad said he had obviously been drinking again," Megan continued. "He was probably coming down the stairs when he lost his balance."

Speechless, Chloe just shook her head. "Wow."

"Is he okay?" Clark asked.

Megan turned to him, a sappy grin spreading across her face. Which, considering what she had to say, seemed kind of surreal. "He has a concussion, some broken ribs, and a broken wrist. And his face is all banged up. But he'll be fine. Well, until his wife gets home and finds out he's been drinking again. Then, it's gonna hit the fan!" The last was said way too cheerfully. Tearing her eyes away from Clark, she looked at Chloe. "Well, gotta go. Clarinet recital!" Giving Clark one final, simpering glance, she turned and bounced away as energetically as she'd arrived.

Shaking her head, Chloe stared after her. "Wow," she said. "Clark, do you believe in poetic justice?"

He seemed surprised by the question. "I don't know. Why?"

"Sam Krager is the guy who ran me down."

Clark's eyes doubled in size. "Oh."

"Yeah. I mean, not that I'm exactly happy about the guy falling down and going boom." She paused to think about it for a second. "Well, not too happy about it. But it seems kind of fair, you know." She looked towards the sky. "Like someone up there knew I couldn't exactly turn him in, so they decided to punish him for me."

"Yeah, someone up there and a bottle of Jack Daniels."

Stunned, Chloe turned to stare at him. "Clark! Was that cynicism?"

Clark grinned proudly. "Yeah. I think I've been hanging around you and Lex too long."

____________________

Later, in Metropolis

She was such a pretty little thing.

Sitting back in his seat, one finger stirring his scalding hot coffee, he watched her. Sitting in the diner, surrounded by her friends, Debra Switz just seemed to…sparkle. Her chin-length, strawberry blond hair glowed under the weak, fluorescent lighting. Her smile was electric, illuminating the room.

Pretty didn't do her justice. She was…delicious.

Grinning at his own thoughts, he took a sip of his coffee. She was so full of life and energy. Gesturing wildly as she talked. So excited about her topic.

The others at her table paled in comparison.

Finally, Debra stood, picking up a backpack from the floor. One of the others—a boy from one of her classes at Metropolis U—also stood. Probably offered to walk her to her car. But she shook her head.

 "That's okay," he imagined her saying.  "It's not that far. I'll be fine."

So strong. So independent.

Standing from his own table, he laid some money (to pay for the coffee, plus a generous tip) next to the coffee cup. Then, whistling a jaunty tune, he followed Debra Switz out of the diner.

(TO BE CONTINUED)