Martha Kent smiled as she finally recognized the voice on the phone. "Oh, hello, Chloe, I didn't even recognize your voice at first. "Just last night, before going to sleep, she'd told her husband she was convinced that Clark and Chloe would make up once one of them made the first move, and sure enough, Chloe had called, sounding as nervous as Martha had ever heard her.
"Sorry, Mrs. Kent. Swallowed something the wrong way. Coffee just doesn't work from a bottle."
"I'll get Clark." When she called, "Clark? It's Chloe," he must have used his speed, since he was in the kitchen before she'd even closed her mouth.
"Hi, Chloe. What's up?" Martha turned away to hide her smile at his self-consciousness and attempt to sound as though he weren't at all agitated.
"You've got to be kidding!" His eyes widened with dismay and even fear. "It's gotta be just coincidence. Or you know, Smallville, probably the walls are cameras or something, and it took a snapshot of one of the times we were down there." His attempt at a laugh was as mechanical as fingers drumming and sounded just as mirthless. "Yeah, sure, I'll come take a look, but...
"Yeah, see you in a few." He hung up and looked at Martha bleakly. "Chloe's in the caves. She found another entrance almost a mile away and it connects to the other caves. She, well, she says that there's paintings of me all over the place," he finished. "I'd better get over there, see if I can talk her out of it, convince her that it's something else." As he pulled a jacket on, he continued, "I hate having to lie to her all the time," and almost slammed the door on his way out.
***
"Chlo'?"
"Over here, Clark." He saw the glimmer of a flashlight as he looked around, uncertainly, and followed it. He'd have sworn that there wasn't a passageway in that direction before, but the cave really seemed to like throwing him curveballs, he reflected. Sometimes he knew just what Pinocchio felt like. Not the nose thing, the wanting to be "a real boy." Kind of hard when you've got ancient legends and space ships and a father who makes Lionel Luthor look practically like Bill Cosby.
The light darted around like a tiny comet in the darkness and his skin was crawling. "Chlo'?" he called again, more to hear her voice instead of just seeing that disembodied light.
"Right over here." Her voice was higher than he'd ever heard it before and he wondered how he'd persuade her to let this go. Or if he couldn't, how he could explain that even if he was telling her the truth about himself because he had to, every time he'd had to lie or evade her questions, it felt like he was chipping away a small piece of himself.
The words seemed all too appropriate as pain caught at his gut and he realized he'd also have to deal with Kryptonite. As he made himself continue, the light seemed to multiply into dozens of restless flickers. He caught against the wall to steady himself and watched it move about.
An unexpected voice broke into the faint ringing in his ears. "It looks rather like a will-o-the-wisp, doesn't it, Clark?" The voice grew closer. "You know that legend, don't you? A light that lures a lost traveler off the path." He weakly raised a hand in a futile gesture of defense as he saw Lionel Luthor approaching him, a bar of the refined Kryptonite glowing in his hand and casting a lurid luminescence on his satisfied face.
"Chloe?" he called, fighting down panic. She'd come to help him, she wouldn't let Lionel hurt him, he told himself. "Chloe, I-"
Words floated back to him and he had to struggle, as though they were in another language, to understand them. "Have a good life, Clark." The sound receded as he tried to stumble away and Lionel's well-tended hand caught him effortlessly by the collar.
*****
A/N: Okay, now we've got a plot and a 'ship. Plot bunnies don't seem to use birth control, do they?
Reviews are much appreciated!
"Sorry, Mrs. Kent. Swallowed something the wrong way. Coffee just doesn't work from a bottle."
"I'll get Clark." When she called, "Clark? It's Chloe," he must have used his speed, since he was in the kitchen before she'd even closed her mouth.
"Hi, Chloe. What's up?" Martha turned away to hide her smile at his self-consciousness and attempt to sound as though he weren't at all agitated.
"You've got to be kidding!" His eyes widened with dismay and even fear. "It's gotta be just coincidence. Or you know, Smallville, probably the walls are cameras or something, and it took a snapshot of one of the times we were down there." His attempt at a laugh was as mechanical as fingers drumming and sounded just as mirthless. "Yeah, sure, I'll come take a look, but...
"Yeah, see you in a few." He hung up and looked at Martha bleakly. "Chloe's in the caves. She found another entrance almost a mile away and it connects to the other caves. She, well, she says that there's paintings of me all over the place," he finished. "I'd better get over there, see if I can talk her out of it, convince her that it's something else." As he pulled a jacket on, he continued, "I hate having to lie to her all the time," and almost slammed the door on his way out.
***
"Chlo'?"
"Over here, Clark." He saw the glimmer of a flashlight as he looked around, uncertainly, and followed it. He'd have sworn that there wasn't a passageway in that direction before, but the cave really seemed to like throwing him curveballs, he reflected. Sometimes he knew just what Pinocchio felt like. Not the nose thing, the wanting to be "a real boy." Kind of hard when you've got ancient legends and space ships and a father who makes Lionel Luthor look practically like Bill Cosby.
The light darted around like a tiny comet in the darkness and his skin was crawling. "Chlo'?" he called again, more to hear her voice instead of just seeing that disembodied light.
"Right over here." Her voice was higher than he'd ever heard it before and he wondered how he'd persuade her to let this go. Or if he couldn't, how he could explain that even if he was telling her the truth about himself because he had to, every time he'd had to lie or evade her questions, it felt like he was chipping away a small piece of himself.
The words seemed all too appropriate as pain caught at his gut and he realized he'd also have to deal with Kryptonite. As he made himself continue, the light seemed to multiply into dozens of restless flickers. He caught against the wall to steady himself and watched it move about.
An unexpected voice broke into the faint ringing in his ears. "It looks rather like a will-o-the-wisp, doesn't it, Clark?" The voice grew closer. "You know that legend, don't you? A light that lures a lost traveler off the path." He weakly raised a hand in a futile gesture of defense as he saw Lionel Luthor approaching him, a bar of the refined Kryptonite glowing in his hand and casting a lurid luminescence on his satisfied face.
"Chloe?" he called, fighting down panic. She'd come to help him, she wouldn't let Lionel hurt him, he told himself. "Chloe, I-"
Words floated back to him and he had to struggle, as though they were in another language, to understand them. "Have a good life, Clark." The sound receded as he tried to stumble away and Lionel's well-tended hand caught him effortlessly by the collar.
*****
A/N: Okay, now we've got a plot and a 'ship. Plot bunnies don't seem to use birth control, do they?
Reviews are much appreciated!
