PART NINE


A still, anticipatory quiet filled the loft.

"Okay, Clark." Chloe planted her elbows on the coffee table and leaned forward. "Hit it."

"Um, are you sure you don't want to move back a little?" asked Clark, who sat on the other side of the coffee table. "You know, just in case."

"Oh, come on. I trust you, Clark. Just do it already."

"Alright," Clark sighed. He took a deep breath and stared at the first graham cracker/marshmallow/chocolate sandwich. As the air between his eyes and the s'more distorted, the concoction began to melt together.

"I still can't believe you handed your project in on time," Chloe said as she opened a can of Cola. Careful to avoid the path of his heat vision, she set the soda close to his elbow. "At least, not without having to call me at least once for help.

"Hmmm," Clark mumbled, his real focus on the s'more. The first time he did this, he lost his concentration and…Well, cleaning marshmallow/chocolate goo off the ceiling hadn't been a whole lot of fun.

"I bet you weren't nearly as behind as you claimed to be. You were obviously pulling a Scotty. Okay, I think that's hot enough."

As Clark pushed the paper plate with its melted s'more across the table, he frowned. "A Scotty?"

"Yeah, you know." An apple in one hand, a knife in the other, she waved both around as she spoke. "Captain Kirk asks Scotty how long it will take to fix the engines, and Scotty says, 'Foor hours, cap'n.' Kirk tells him he has two. But Scotty knows all along he can do it in one so, when he gets it done quicker than Kirk expects, he looks like a miracle worker."

"O-kaaaay," Clark drawled. Not sure what she was getting at, he shrugged and turned his attention to his own s'more. "And your Scottish accent kinda sucks."

"Yeah, I know," Chloe cheerfully agreed. She put the apple on a napkin and started to cut it. "I thought it would get better after listening to Duncan talk for a while, but it hasn't worked out that way. And you would not believe how amazing his life has been. I mean, that first night, we were talking at the Talon for nearly two hours, and we barely made it up to the 1700s. Since then, I think he's mainly been sticking to the highlights, and we still haven't reached the 20th century yet. I mean, it's just incredible. All the things he's seen and done…"

Listening with half an ear as she talked about Mac's incredible life, Clark looked up from his s'more. In an instant, he realized Chloe was so busy talking, and trying to say everything she wanted to say as fast as possible, she wasn't paying attention to the apple she was cutting. But, before he could utter a warning, the knife slipped. The blade cut deep, slicing through the flesh at the base of her thumb.

With a startled gasp, Chloe dropped the knife. Within moments, blood welled up from the gash. It flowed onto the apple slices beneath her hand, soaked into the napkin.

"Oh, my God," Clark whispered, rising up onto his knees. Feeling a little queasy at the sight of all that blood, he grabbed a clean napkin and pressed it to the cut. Soon, the napkin was almost completely red.

"Okay," Chloe gasped, her face frozen in a grimace of pain. With her uninjured hand, she squeezed her wrist, as if that would stop the pain from traveling up her arm. "That hurts."

"I'll bet it does," Clark said. He gave her a scolding look. "You weren't watching what you were doing."

"I know, I know," she breathed. "Don't argue with the girl in pain, here. Besides, you were the one who wanted apples. I was happy with empty calories."

Rolling his eyes, Clark removed the soiled napkin and started to replace it with a clean one. Only, before he could, he saw sparks of energy come to life inside the wound. They were like little pinpricks of electricity, dancing back and forth across the gash. Within seconds, the cut started to shrink. Before his eyes, it got smaller and smaller until, finally, it was just gone.

For a moment, Clark just sat there, frozen. With his first aid skills no longer needed, he wasn't sure what to do next. He'd seen Chloe heal before, but it never ceased to amaze him.

"Whew." With a sigh of relief, Chloe clenched her blood covered—but now unharmed—hand into a fist. "Glad that's over. Lucky it was a small one, so it didn't take long to heal." Nose crinkled in distaste, she glanced down at the coffee table. "Guess we better clean up, huh?"

That also amazed him. Chloe was tough, but she used to make a fuss over stuff like this. Now, she was so casual about it, like bleeding all over the place was no big deal. And her almost carefree attitude towards being injured made him a little uneasy.

The two teens worked together to clean up the mess, which didn't take long. And, after Clark reheated their s'mores, they were finally able to enjoy their snack.

"So, what are we doing tomorrow?" Chloe asked. She licked melted marshmallow off of her fingers. "We have to do something. There are no big stories brewing. My dad's going to Metropolis for some barbeque birthday bash for one of his old friends. Duncan's going to Metropolis because Joe's leaving to go back to…"

"Wait!" Clark interrupted. He was surprised. And a little disappointed. "Joe's leaving."

"Yeah," Chloe answered. "I was hoping he'd come to Smallville eventually. He seemed to know a lot about Immortal stuff. Plus, I wanted to know more about how Ramirez knew Merrick. But, according to Duncan, he only stayed this long to visit an old friend who runs the Metropolis branch of some organization. Must be some kind of charity or something."

Clark frowned. He'd hoped to see the older man again. After all, they had a lot in common. Both had Immortal friends who were expected to risk their lives fighting in a Game for a Prize some didn't even believe was real. At any moment, a stranger could challenge Chloe or Mac to a duel to the death. And, if their opponent was stronger, faster, better…

Since Joe and Mac seemed to be good friends, Clark wanted to know how he dealt with that. Plus, asking Joe some of the questions he had seemed less intimidating than asking a 400 year old legend.

Now, it looked like he wouldn't get the chance to ask him anything.

After a short debate over how they would spend Saturday, Chloe and Clark decided on the movies.

"We'll make a day of it," Chloe decreed. "Starting with breakfast. I'll whip us up some of my famous…"

"No!" Clark exclaimed, unable to hide his alarm. As Chloe gave him a startled look, he forced himself to sound calm. "I mean, why don't you come over here for breakfast? My mom is gonna make chocolate chip waffles tomorrow. I know how you like those."

"Well, I kinda wanted you to try my blueberry muffins. I've gotten much better at making them since the last time. But I love your mom's waffles." Chloe paused, smiling at the thought of Martha Kent's cooking. "So I guess I'll be here bright and early in the a.m."

"Good," Clark smiled. Heaving a sigh of relief, he bit into his s'more.

*****


Frowning, Lex examined the damage. Thanks to the light of a nearly full moon, he could clearly see the tire was flat.

It didn't make any sense. Lex checked over whatever car he was driving before he left the mansion. It was a habit. All of the tires on this one had been fine. And he hadn't noticed anything odd when he stopped at the Talon for a cappuccino to go. But it seemed that, somewhere along the line, he'd developed a slow leak. Only, not so slow. Less than an hour outside of Smallville, and driving on this tire was out of the question.

Sighing as he straitened up, Lex considered calling his auto club, but decided against it. He could have the tire replaced with a spare long before help arrived.

As he took off his jacket, Lex glanced down the road. He could have sworn there was another car behind him. He'd caught a glimpse of distant headlights in his rearview mirror several times and, ever since he'd stopped, he'd been subconsciously waiting for the mystery car to pass him by. Only, it never did.

"They must've turned off somewhere," he decided.

As he tossed his jacket onto the driver's seat, he cast a glance towards the trees that hugged the road. He had a vague, uneasy feeling. Probably because was effectively stranded, after dark, out in the middle of nowhere. He felt vulnerable, which definitely wasn't one of his favorite emotions. He knew his feelings had no basis. It was just the human brain's tendency to be more alert, more wary, in situation like this. Still, the sooner he changed the tire, the better.

Opening the trunk, he started to remove the spare.

He never saw the figure that stepped out of the shadows of the nearby trees. Didn't hear that figure move, with quick stealth, towards his back.

Lex didn't know he wasn't alone until he felt the impact of something hard and solid slamming into his head.


(TO BE CONTINUED)