Rating: PG (for death. Plus G sounds wimpy.)
Disclaimer: You guessed it. I don't own Smallville or its characters. You're good at this game.
Summary: Clark/Chloe friendship. Semi-dark angst. Clark reflects on how he killed Chloe. *Complete*
Other Stuff: Once again, sorry if it's overly mushy and slushy. Many things I write tend to be. This is what I imagine would happen to Chloe and Clark in the near future, perhaps giving Clark the superhero push. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Flames too, though I can't imagine why this would get one unless the reader is just completely anti-Smallville.
~
The three weary figures quietly entered the front door of the Kent home, dim and shadowed by the warm May dusk. The three entering the kitchen, Jonathan Kent turned on the fluorescent lights, ugly and blinding from the previous soft darkness. After several moments of silence, the woman spoke, her age revealing itself in her worn blue eyes and soothing voice.
"That was a beautiful ceremony," Martha said gently, putting her hand on Clark's. Clark pulled his hand away from his mother's, features stoic and not saying anything. "Are you feeling okay, son?" Jonathan added, putting an arm around Martha's shoulder to silently explain to her that Clark didn't mean to pull his hand away so harshly.
Clark was silent for a long time, before answering quietly, and almost painfully as if the words physically hurt him. "Gabe thanked me." Neither one of his parents spoke, so he continued. "After the reception, Gabe pulled me aside and thanked me. For being Chloe's friend. For always being there for her."
"Oh, Clark," Martha said, her voice breaking and tears rimming her eyes (even though she promised herself she wouldn't cry anymore after the funeral), "It wasn't your fault Chloe died. She died because she loved you. She wouldn't want you to feel guilty." Her eyes, red and sore from the day, pleaded to him to look up at them.
"No, Mom," he screamed at her, eyes wild, "She died because of me. I killed her! I killed her because she loved me," he panted, again feeling the lump in his throat he's had all day, pushing to be released. "I should have told her," he whispered, before fleeing from the kitchen and out the front door to the loft.
~
i"Why won't you just tell me, Clark? What can't you tell me?" the young blond shouted at him, during that late night at the Torch.
"Chloe, there's nothing to tell. And why are you still looking at my adoption records? You told me you'd stop. What, have you been researching about me behind my back all along?" Clark yelled back at her, his anger clearly displayed.
"There is something strange about your adoption, Clark. And it seems to be connected to all your strange behavior," she said, angry with her best friend for being angry with her. Her voice softened. "Clark, I love you. Please, just tell me."
Clark started out the door. "If you think that researching me like I'm some sort of lab rat is worth our friendship, then fine. Goodbye Chloe." He turned, about to leave.
Suddenly, a middle-aged man rushed into the room, and slammed the door behind him, holding a gun in his hand. "What's going on?" Clark faintly heard Chloe cry out, before he felt his entire body weaken and plummet to the hard tiled floor.
Weakly, Clark turned his head, using his X-ray vision to search the man. He had traces of the green meteor rocks in his bloodstream. "No," Clark mumbled. You have to save Chloe, his mind screamed at him, bSave Chloe/b, but his body remained still on the floor.
Vaguely, Clark heard laughing. "Time to die, Clark Kent," the man chuckled. Clark heard faint clicking. "No! Clark!" he heard Chloe scream to him, but he was unable to move. Save Chloe. Then everything happened so quickly.
Clark felt Chloe's body on his, and heard gunshots. Save Chloe. "Shit," the man seemed to have said, before opening the Torch door and sprinting. Save Chloe.
It took a few moments for Clark to regain his strength, and he started breathing with ease again. Chloe, his mind screamed at him, Chloe. He turned his body quickly, to stare into the blank blue-green eyes of Chloe Sullivan.
"No. No, this isn't happening. Chloe?" Clark sat upright, and frantically stroked Chloe's cheek, then thinking to feel around her neck for a pulse.
Not finding one, he desperately tried to remember the procedure for CPR that they had learned a few weeks ago in gym class. He gently laid Chloe on the floor, biting his lips and wincing when he felt blood on her bare back that her tank top had failed to cover. Clark started what he remembered of CPR for several minutes, constantly rechecking the pulse and not finding one. "No," he whispered, breaking down. "No, no, Chloe. Wake up. C'mon the joke's over. I'm sorry. Wake up, and I'll tell you everything. We'll get some coffee okay? I'll even pay. Please Chloe, please, wake up." But her blank eyes just stared up at him, not understanding what he was saying.
"Chlo," he whispered into her hair, "I'm an alien. I have superpowers. Remember that time with Ian? He dropped you, and I fell down beneath you and saved you. Remember that time? I'm sorry I didn't tell you. And in 8th grade, when we were supposed to ride bikes together, and I never showed up? I'm sorry. There was a drunk driver about to hit a woman. And that time I promised I'd help you in math, but I was an hour late, and you'd fallen asleep on my couch waiting for me? I'm sorry, Chlo, this guy was trapped under his car. I'll tell you more, just please wake up."
Clark looked desperately at her, and not receiving a response, continued to tell her his sorrys of times he was always late or stood her up. And her pale, empty eyes listened to him until he fell asleep beside her cold, stiff body, arms tightly around her, head in her hair, which smelled like blood now, even though she washed it with her new pear-scented shampoo that morning./i
~
Clark stared out into the sky, sprinkled with twinkling stars, completely unaware of the horrible things he had done.
"I'm so sorry, Chloe. I should have told you. I'm bulletproof, you know? You shouldn't have saved me. Then everything would still be okay. We would go out for coffee. You'd lecture me on being late again. Pete would still talk to me. Mom, Dad, Lana and Gabe would still smile." He paused for a moment and then continued his speech toward the stars. "Remember that time you gave me that chart of a list of things I could possibly do wrong, and with them, what I would do to make you forgive me?"
Then Clark began to cry, as he hadn't in a long, long time.
~
Across the room, stood the fiery, blonde reporter, looking at Clark before smiling. "Your secret's safe with me, Clark Kent," before she disappeared.
~
FIN (pardon my French ;))
Sorry the "middle-aged man" who murdered Chloe was hastily made up; I had no idea what to do with that. C'mon, you know you want to review.
Disclaimer: You guessed it. I don't own Smallville or its characters. You're good at this game.
Summary: Clark/Chloe friendship. Semi-dark angst. Clark reflects on how he killed Chloe. *Complete*
Other Stuff: Once again, sorry if it's overly mushy and slushy. Many things I write tend to be. This is what I imagine would happen to Chloe and Clark in the near future, perhaps giving Clark the superhero push. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Flames too, though I can't imagine why this would get one unless the reader is just completely anti-Smallville.
~
The three weary figures quietly entered the front door of the Kent home, dim and shadowed by the warm May dusk. The three entering the kitchen, Jonathan Kent turned on the fluorescent lights, ugly and blinding from the previous soft darkness. After several moments of silence, the woman spoke, her age revealing itself in her worn blue eyes and soothing voice.
"That was a beautiful ceremony," Martha said gently, putting her hand on Clark's. Clark pulled his hand away from his mother's, features stoic and not saying anything. "Are you feeling okay, son?" Jonathan added, putting an arm around Martha's shoulder to silently explain to her that Clark didn't mean to pull his hand away so harshly.
Clark was silent for a long time, before answering quietly, and almost painfully as if the words physically hurt him. "Gabe thanked me." Neither one of his parents spoke, so he continued. "After the reception, Gabe pulled me aside and thanked me. For being Chloe's friend. For always being there for her."
"Oh, Clark," Martha said, her voice breaking and tears rimming her eyes (even though she promised herself she wouldn't cry anymore after the funeral), "It wasn't your fault Chloe died. She died because she loved you. She wouldn't want you to feel guilty." Her eyes, red and sore from the day, pleaded to him to look up at them.
"No, Mom," he screamed at her, eyes wild, "She died because of me. I killed her! I killed her because she loved me," he panted, again feeling the lump in his throat he's had all day, pushing to be released. "I should have told her," he whispered, before fleeing from the kitchen and out the front door to the loft.
~
i"Why won't you just tell me, Clark? What can't you tell me?" the young blond shouted at him, during that late night at the Torch.
"Chloe, there's nothing to tell. And why are you still looking at my adoption records? You told me you'd stop. What, have you been researching about me behind my back all along?" Clark yelled back at her, his anger clearly displayed.
"There is something strange about your adoption, Clark. And it seems to be connected to all your strange behavior," she said, angry with her best friend for being angry with her. Her voice softened. "Clark, I love you. Please, just tell me."
Clark started out the door. "If you think that researching me like I'm some sort of lab rat is worth our friendship, then fine. Goodbye Chloe." He turned, about to leave.
Suddenly, a middle-aged man rushed into the room, and slammed the door behind him, holding a gun in his hand. "What's going on?" Clark faintly heard Chloe cry out, before he felt his entire body weaken and plummet to the hard tiled floor.
Weakly, Clark turned his head, using his X-ray vision to search the man. He had traces of the green meteor rocks in his bloodstream. "No," Clark mumbled. You have to save Chloe, his mind screamed at him, bSave Chloe/b, but his body remained still on the floor.
Vaguely, Clark heard laughing. "Time to die, Clark Kent," the man chuckled. Clark heard faint clicking. "No! Clark!" he heard Chloe scream to him, but he was unable to move. Save Chloe. Then everything happened so quickly.
Clark felt Chloe's body on his, and heard gunshots. Save Chloe. "Shit," the man seemed to have said, before opening the Torch door and sprinting. Save Chloe.
It took a few moments for Clark to regain his strength, and he started breathing with ease again. Chloe, his mind screamed at him, Chloe. He turned his body quickly, to stare into the blank blue-green eyes of Chloe Sullivan.
"No. No, this isn't happening. Chloe?" Clark sat upright, and frantically stroked Chloe's cheek, then thinking to feel around her neck for a pulse.
Not finding one, he desperately tried to remember the procedure for CPR that they had learned a few weeks ago in gym class. He gently laid Chloe on the floor, biting his lips and wincing when he felt blood on her bare back that her tank top had failed to cover. Clark started what he remembered of CPR for several minutes, constantly rechecking the pulse and not finding one. "No," he whispered, breaking down. "No, no, Chloe. Wake up. C'mon the joke's over. I'm sorry. Wake up, and I'll tell you everything. We'll get some coffee okay? I'll even pay. Please Chloe, please, wake up." But her blank eyes just stared up at him, not understanding what he was saying.
"Chlo," he whispered into her hair, "I'm an alien. I have superpowers. Remember that time with Ian? He dropped you, and I fell down beneath you and saved you. Remember that time? I'm sorry I didn't tell you. And in 8th grade, when we were supposed to ride bikes together, and I never showed up? I'm sorry. There was a drunk driver about to hit a woman. And that time I promised I'd help you in math, but I was an hour late, and you'd fallen asleep on my couch waiting for me? I'm sorry, Chlo, this guy was trapped under his car. I'll tell you more, just please wake up."
Clark looked desperately at her, and not receiving a response, continued to tell her his sorrys of times he was always late or stood her up. And her pale, empty eyes listened to him until he fell asleep beside her cold, stiff body, arms tightly around her, head in her hair, which smelled like blood now, even though she washed it with her new pear-scented shampoo that morning./i
~
Clark stared out into the sky, sprinkled with twinkling stars, completely unaware of the horrible things he had done.
"I'm so sorry, Chloe. I should have told you. I'm bulletproof, you know? You shouldn't have saved me. Then everything would still be okay. We would go out for coffee. You'd lecture me on being late again. Pete would still talk to me. Mom, Dad, Lana and Gabe would still smile." He paused for a moment and then continued his speech toward the stars. "Remember that time you gave me that chart of a list of things I could possibly do wrong, and with them, what I would do to make you forgive me?"
Then Clark began to cry, as he hadn't in a long, long time.
~
Across the room, stood the fiery, blonde reporter, looking at Clark before smiling. "Your secret's safe with me, Clark Kent," before she disappeared.
~
FIN (pardon my French ;))
Sorry the "middle-aged man" who murdered Chloe was hastily made up; I had no idea what to do with that. C'mon, you know you want to review.