Clark sighed. A deep, whole body sigh, that did absolutely no good for him. Chloe was his friend-his good, four year friend-depite everything, all the wrongs on his part and her part. So while hers had been the most recent and the most wounding to their long friendship, it was still extremely difficult to lie to Chloe. Especially to her face, especially in front of his parents. He watched Chloe lean back and sip tea from his moms least favorite mug, wondering if that had been on purpose. He saw her eyes skip from one person to the next, finally settling on him. They sparkled slightly, the look of amusment and questions lurking behind the shades she'd pulled across them. She almost seemed to be daring him to lie to her, asking him, 'What are you going to say to get out of this one, Kent?' He didn't want to lie, but what choice did he have? His parents would colassally freak on him if he even came close to telling her the truth. Flipping through the possible lies, he decided flat out, old fashioned denial was the best way.

"Chloe....I don't know why he was shooting at us. You're right in that it couldn't have been a hunting accident. After all, who hunts with tranqs? It's not even hunting season. I don't know what he was going to do with us, or who he was, or why he ran, or basically anything other than what you know. There was a guy who followed us, so I decided to pull off and ditch him, we thought we did, settled ourselves in the woods, and then next thing I know there's a big green dart sticking out of my side. I know I tried to dive toward you, but frankly, everything after the dart is just kind lost time." Clark returned her look, only where hers was probbing, his was just plain bewildered. Not that hard a look to affect, considering that is mostly how he felt. Silently, he willed her to accept it, and when she didn't seem to, he decided to add a little extra umph to his story. "Chloe...Maybe, they weren't after me, like you are assuming. Maybe..maybe they were after you. Lionel might have sent him."

Chloe just sat there, struggling to hide the disbelief that threatened to swallow her. Classic Clark explaination. So much wrong with it she didn't know where to begin, but just enough of the truth and his innocent look to make it seem plausible. Ever so slightly plausible. Not something she could prove, or disprove, and just enough without making it over the top. Of course, the guilt trip on the end was a nice touch, too, thought it didn't fail to make her somewhat angry he was bringing it up for the umptenth time this week. 'Damn you Clark!' She wanted to say it so bad and list off everything that was wrong there. 'But if that was the case, why were you watching for someone to follow us? Why would he shoot at you first and not me? Why was my dart just regular while yours was the size of freaking elephant tranq with a METEOR tip? Yeah, maybe you don't know where he was, but I bet you know why he was following us. What were you going to tell me in the first place that was so important this guy had to stop it? How do you know it was a he? You seemed pretty confident in that. Oh, jeez, the list goes on, and on, and on. Why couldn't you have even come up with a good lie?' Chloe couldn't bring herself to speak, afraid one of a zillion responses other than acceptance would come flying out of her mouth. But she had settled on accepting whatever he told her and that is what she had to do. She didn't deserve anything more, and he didn't deserve any less.

So Chloe just nodded. She set down her drink on the coffee table, stood up and nodded again, as though trying to force herself to believe it. "Al..Alright." Her voice faltered once, than she picked up a confident tone of acceptance and repeated it. "Alright. Okay. I believe you." A wide smile covered her face and Chloe hid behind it. "I'm going to go home and see if there is anyway I can salvage my clothes. Maybe take a shower..or ten. I guess I'll see you monday at school." With that, she nodded toward the Kent's, asked for a ride from Pete, turned on her heel and walked to the door, nodding to herself the whole way.

Clark knew she didn't buy it, but he was relieved that she was accepting his answer. At least, he hoped she was. He couldn't resist calling after her, "Chlo? This isn't Torch material right?"

That, Chloe couldn't take. She could pay her dues for her betrayl, she could swallow his sad excuse for a lie, she could put up with the Kent's, and Pete, and everything else. She had it coming, she knew that. But the fact he would even think that she'd use the paper for something like this, something they so obviously didn't want others to know. Perhaps, if they had called the police, she'd have thought it over. But they didn't, so the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. What he had just done was questioning her integritity as a friend. Even through Lionel, that hadn't wavered. Chloe had given him nothing, and Clark still questioned her loyalty. And to put it with her nickname was even worse, like it was a friendly question. If he even had to ask that, maybe he wasn't the Clark Kent she knew. Or thought she knew.

Trying hard not to radiate anger, she whipped around and looked at him, stopping right in the door frame, the sun filtering in behind her. Her eyes flashed despite her efforts and her mood was obvious. Still, she fought to remain in control. "No, Clark, I would never do that. I would never use the paper for a story about you that you don't want in print. I know I love the oddities that plauge our little hamlet, but I would never use it to betray a friend. I'm a better person than you give me credit for Clark, I'm a better friend than that."

Then she lost it. He had been hinting, nudging about her betrayl in their few conversations all week. 'You want to talk about it? Fine. We'll talk about it,' she yelled in her mind. Her voice started to raise and she made no attempt to keep the biting edge off her tone. "I didn't give Lionel any information on you. I have been trying for months, risking myself, my reputation, everything I've been working for, my dad's job for godsake to get out of that stupid deal with the devil and that isn't enough for you. I know I was wrong and I'm grateful for the second chance, but give me my dues! Everytime you've screwed up in this relationship, I've dealt. Perhaps I was angery, or hurt, and maybe it was uncalled for, but I never went back and threw it in your face like have this past week. We may have moved a step apart, alot of steps apart, but I didn't go on showing you all your wrongs every freaking day."

Now she was trying to hold back her tears. No luck. Her face was crimson with all that she had wanted to say for so long but had kept back. Chloe felt that she had lost control of her own ability to speak as her voice cracked from the effort of keeping the tears locked away. Her face became splotchy as she went, a hot rushing river of tears leaking out of her eyes, obscuring her vision. Absently, she pushed them away and continued her rant. "You ran out on me for Lana a thousand times, you kept me out of your life, you rescued me and then were gone in an instant, you abandoned me and then only came back when you wanted something, when you need a little of my reporters knowledge, and I didn't say anything. I have let you walk all over me and when you came back at a time of your own convience, I let you back in and helped you. Well that's enough Clark! I've had about god damn enough of your crap. I've screwed up! I know! I've apologised and taken my punishment that I know I deserve. But that doesn't mean you have to tell me about it and ignore me and then try to guilt me into doing what you say, as if I don't feel so horribly guilty and awful and dirty and sick about it all that I feel like my might fall of shoulders because of it or my insides my just have crawled away because I feel so empty inside."

Now she was just a sobbing, blithering mess. With a voice wracked with passion that seemed to make the words even sharper, she went on. Clark stung, white as a sheet, with every syllable that spilled from her mouth. It felt like she had taken a sword and rammed it into him over and over again, and what was worse is that it was all true. He knew it was true. And what startled him is how wrapped up he'd been in himself for so long that he missed how much he had hurt Chloe. It didn't make what she'd done go away, but he was starting to understand how she had done it. And it only got worse.

On she went, voice strong for the tears shaking through her body. She was vibrating with anger and hurt he had instilled in her over the years. Now she didn't even care what she was saying, couldn't have stopped herself if she had tried. "I can only take so much Clark, and when you question my loyalty to you after everything, well, that's just it. You just broke my back with that little comment Clark. There's a line between friendship and the news, and I wouldn't cross it. You should know that, Clark. I thought you did, but apparently there are a lot of things I've been wrong about with you. So just back off, Clark, and get the hell out of my life before I regret all the days I spent worrying and crying and caring about you despite it all. Wishing we could just get it right and stop getting hurt. I love you Clark but I can't. I just can't do it anymore."

All through out the tirade, she hadn't moved an inch, just stood there in the doorway, all arm movements and expressions. Now she just stopped, giving him a look so penetrating that it seemed to crack through the air and pierce him. She cradled her arms to her and stepped back, unable to speak for the sobs overtaking her small form. With that, Chloe's face scrunched up and she ran out the door, down the steps, and started down the drive. Pete raced after her not even thinking, no longer angry from what she'd done. He caught her and pulled her into a hug, strong enough to keep her from pulling away as he held her. She buried herself in his neck and just cried. It was five minutes before she'd calmed enough to let him put her in the passanger seat of his car and drive her home. By the time they were out of the drive, Pete was afraid she'd gone catatonic.

And in the house, in the living room he knew so well, a place of safety, Clark just stood. He stared out there, frozen in place, white as a sheet. He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Clark hung in a moment, feeling more beaten and riddled with pain than any exposure to the meteor rocks. As she sobbed, as she left, as Pete tore down the drive, Clark stood, staring after, more utterly lost then he'd ever been in his life.

In second the world could change, it had once again. He had no way of knowing that by tomorrow, it could only be worse.

Thoughts? Feelings? Rant on.