The Wall of Weird swam in and out of focus as Chloe sat, poised at her computer, fighting the wave of fatigue that threatened to consume her. Her computer blinked blankly in front of her as her head, resting on an upraised palm, nodded twice and slumped. She felt the edges of the dream surround her, pulling her back into its inky depths. She resisted, to no avail, feeling herself falling once again…
WHACK!
She snapped back into consciousness as her head I hit the keyboard, resulting in a sharp pain in her head and an annoying error tone from the computer. Exhaustedly, she heaved her body from the chair and walked to the wall, preparing to choke down another gallon of coffee. 'Whatever it takes, right?' she asked herself mentally, reaching a shaking hand for the pot of steaming liquid. Distracted as usual, she failed to notice Clark, standing just outside the doorway, nor how his eyes clouded over with worry.
Chloe hadn't been the same these past two weeks, and as much as she'd tried to conceal that fact, Clark knew her too well to be fooled. But whenever he tried to approach her, to broach the subject, she brought up her defenses, changing topics and failing to meet his troubled gaze. Gently, he rapped on the doorframe, announcing his arrival. The noise startled Chloe, who leaped about 3 feet in the air, slopping her coffee.
"Jesus Clark! How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me?!" she demanded, rounding on him. Clark just sighed and tossed his backpack to the floor.
"I didn't sneak Chloe, I knocked," he tried to explain, knowing full well that it wouldn't curb her fiery mood. He pulled out several wrinkled sheets of writing from a binder and, flipping on a computer, began to type. He was a bit relieved when Chloe didn't seem up for an argument. She could be pretty scary for such a small person. But no, instead of harassing Clark, she sat back down at her computer. Within minutes, she was asleep again, head cushioned on her folded arms.
Clark did a double take when he heard her light snores. Making sure that the Torch office door was closed, he picked her up with relative ease and deposited her onto the room's lumpy couch. He put a one of the cushions underneath her head, then covered her with his bright red jacket. He sat on the arm of the faded plaid loveseat for a moment, just watching her sleep. His heart was aching. Something was wrong with his friend, and for once he didn't know how to help her.
"What going on Chloe? Why won't you tell me?" he asked softly, knowing that she wouldn't answer. He turned back to his work, finishing his article, before starting to type Chloe's as well. When she began to fall behind on her Torch work was when Clark learned that something was really wrong. Chloe's number one priority was her paper, she put her sweat and blood into it. But lately he'd been staying late, working long hours with her to try and meet their deadline. He was mid-way through the sport page when soft a mumbling disturbed the even flow of his keystrokes.
"No…please no…catch me…don't let me fall!" Chloe cried suddenly, falling promptly off the couch. Clark was by her side faster than he'd intended, but she was too distracted to notice. Gently he grabbed her face between his hands and forced her to look at him.
"Chlo? Chloe it's alright, I'm right here. Are you okay?" he asked. But Chloe was really scared. She was breathing in short, ragged gasps and her body was tense against his. She latched onto his arm with her small hands, and he pulled her close.
"Wha-Clark? What happened?" she demanded, her vision clearing to reveal Clark peering into her eyes, looking terribly concerned.
"It's alright. You just rolled of the couch," he assured her. She was seriously freaked. This wasn't like Chloe at all. He brushed her blonde tresses back from her eyes, trying not to get lost in their penetrating gaze. "You sounded like you were dreaming."
"Oh, oh that? It's okay, I've…I've had that dream before. Just too many late night horror flicks," she told him, the whole while her head was screaming 'Liar! Liar!' Suddenly self conscious, she stumbled out of his grasp, struggling to her feet. Clark said nothing in response, but kept staring at her, as if waiting for her to explain what'd really happened. "What? I'm fine!"
That was it. Clark couldn't sit here anymore and see her like this. Without so much as a word, he grabbed his coat and bag, and walked slowly out the door. Chloe stared at his retreating back, wanting to cry. But what was she supposed to say, that she was having chronically-insane dreams, so she'd taken up being an insomniac? No, she just needed to deal with this on her own. With fresh resolution, she turned back to her computer. That article wasn't going to type itself. But when she sat down, she saw that it was already printed out, laying next to her keyboard.