TITLE: Excuse me…who are you?
AUTHOR: William Rayne
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: Memoria
DISTRIBUTION: FanFiction.net, email me
DISCLAIMER someone else owns 'em, I'm just taking them out to play. Don't sue me, I have no money
FEEDBACK: Desired like none other.
A/N: Yeah, I haven't posted on my other stories. So many ideas, so little time plus block on some and on dial-up now. %sad face% Thinking fanfiction still may hate my asterisks so using % for now. Have outlines done for other stories and will write when I can. For now, enjoy.
As always: bold italics for stressed, italics for thoughts or voice-over, and underlines for sarcasm or disgust.
110
Excuse Me…Who Are You?
Chapter 2
You thought what you said was smooth, but the sadness in Lana's eyes tells you otherwise. You start to apologize. She waves you off, brushing away some stray tears, saying, "No, no. You don't need to—I mean, it's not like. It just hit me that you really don't remember. Do you?"
It hits you like bullet, she has a guy or had a guy. Either way, you're sure that guy was you. You stutter a response and she giggles nervously, "No, it's alright. It's wrong for me to force you to remember. It's cruel."
She starts to walk away and you catch her arm. She turns to you, with surprise and hope in her eyes. You say, "No. I want to remember. I'm ashamed that I could even forget. Can you help me to remember? Please?"
She hesitates on her answer and you flash her an electric half-smile with your eyes being as puppy-dog as you can make them. It works and she agrees. The bell rings and as she leaves, she tells you to meet her at the Talon after school.
You smile and check your schedule. Free period, what ever will I do? You smile and walk towards the Torch. Research sounds like a very appealing idea to you. You walk into the office and are surprised by the fact that you aren't surprised to find Chloe there. She, however, looks surprised to see you and when you ask why, she replies, "Well, with your condition and all. I figured you would do something else."
"Old habits die hard?" you offer.
She laughs and says, "I guess so. So I'm not sure what you want to work on. I have the article on Lionel's renewed interest in the Kawatche Caves or do you want to cover the training for our softball team?"
Chloe is facing away from you as she goes through a stack of items that seem to be Torch related. When she turns back around, the confusion on your face is apparent. She asks about it and you tell her you didn't think you were the reporter type.
"If you didn't think you were into that sort of thing. Why be here?" She says.
"I don't know," You reply, "I thought maybe there'd be something here that would help jog my memory. You know, remember the old Clark Kent."
Chloe looks crestfallen until you add in, "Plus, I think that if the old Clark Kent is anything like me…he really wasn't here for the reporting. He was here to spend more time with you."
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A couple hours later, you're in gym class. Chloe had helped you to rediscover yourself. You seem to have a habit of being at the right place at the wrong time. Or maybe it's wrong place at the right time. Either way, you always seem to be there to save the day. The selflessness surprises you, it doesn't make sense. It goes against all instincts of self-preservation. Perhaps there's more behind the stories, you'll have to ask your parents later on. Or maybe it's something you could bring up with Lana when you see her this afternoon.
Your thoughts are interrupted as you notice that Pete kid looking at you strangely. When the coach had told you that you could sit gym out the rest of the semester due to your condition, you had protested. Pete hadn't said it aloud, but his mechanizations had indicated that he thought it best that you sit out. It's only in reading these subtle clues that you two are friends. How else would you be able to know someone so well?
You go through all of these thoughts as you are put through the paces in gym class. Class comes towards the end and the coach pulls you over to tell you that he's impressed. When you ask why, he says something about the ease in which you're doing things and that this is the best he's seen you ever do but you don't catch it all as you glance over to see Pete looking at you like a hawk. He looks away but you can't shake the feeling like he's evaluating you for some reason.
The last event in gym is a race. One of the kids, a football player looking one makes a comment towards you. The comment wasn't particularly intelligent or seemed appropriate to you because you don't remember your past performance in class but it makes the other kids laugh. Pete tells you to shrug it off, that the kid doesn't know what he's saying.
You ready for the whistle and when it sounds, you race. You're not racing for the sake of speed or ego. You're racing to prove to yourself you can, that the kid's comment doesn't matter. You see him pull ahead to the lead and you put more effort in. It's funny but you feel like you're holding back. You're in almost last place, perhaps you are. Something inside of you seems to click and you find yourself at the finish line, a full three seconds ahead of the leader. Everyone, including you, is surprised. If you weren't so preoccupied with what just happened, you would've noticed that Pete has suddenly become worried.