Lying sideways, Marin stared at the long-treasured photo on her bedside table. She was happy then - happy just to have somebody, although somewhere deep inside she knew it wasn't real. She knew it wasn't her that Jake wanted, it was her sister - younger, vivacious, always with a smile ready rather than a smirk. But everybody wanted Jenna, so Jake snaked his way into Marin's heart instead. When Jenna's heart was broken by one of her many admirers, Jake was close enough to pick up the pieces, and neither he nor Jenna seemed to care that it was only Marin who felt the wound.
Bitterness followed Marin, clung to her like molasses and wrapped her in an impermeable loneliness. When Dr. Swann's offer to work for him came, she readily accepted the chance to escape from all the eyes who'd seen her fall, all those who knew both her and Jenna - because they all chose Jenna. Like Tolkein's Smeagol she sank into her own underworld, avoided people like the daylight, and became enraptured with one precious thing.
Clark.
His rejection of her didn't hurt anymore. She understood it now, and even found it comforting to know that he couldn't bring himself to use her. She'd been used before. She thought she could live with lying inside as long as she had her one precious moment to tuck away and keep for herself - one quiet memory.
But it wasn't that memory she missed now, as tears slipped silently over her cheek to collect on her pillow. While anxious footsteps raced up and down the halls and irate voices called back and forth as things were discovered missing, Marin searched herself for the one memory that eluded her.
Conception.
She couldn't bring herself to think about who - although she had suspicions - and thinking about how it happened racked her body with sobs. Dr. Prescott had done a pelvic exam, but there was no evidence of rape. It had occurred too long ago. Marin was terrified at the thought of who had probably impregnated her. She had so many questions swimming through her mind, and found herself wondering about every night that she slept exceptionally soundly, all the mornings she woke up feeling like she had a hangover, but hadn't touched a drop. All the things that might have been done to her, courtesy of a convenient illegal sedative.
Am I carrying Ethan's baby?
Dr. Ripley tried to drag his feet as he was lead out of the penitentiary. He'd seen the look exchanged between Lionel and the guard - he knew this man was on Lionel Luthor's payroll. He also knew that Lionel Luthor did not make idle threats, and reminding Dr. Ripley of his vast sphere of influence - even as a caged bird - was clearly not an idle threat.
"Where is your car?" the guard prodded.
"Um… I can't remember where I parked."
"Want an electric shock to refresh your memory?"
A genuine Luthor thug. Great. "No, I uh… I can find it." He pretended to survey the lot in search of his vehicle - a somewhat comical move, as there were very few cars in the lot. "Ah, there it is," he said finally, and strode toward a late-90's maroon Toyota Camry.
"Is that the cooler?" the guard asked, approaching the passenger window.
Dr. Ripley rolled his eyes. "Yes, Socrates, that is indeed a cooler."
"You got a bad attitude, you know that? Most people on Luthor's list aren't so quick to talk back. Makes me irritable."
"I can't be on his list, I have something he wants!" Dr. Ripley insisted frantically.
"Yes you do," the guard sneered. "And it's in that cooler. That's all he needs from you."
Dr. Ripley's eyes widened in terror. "You mean - "
"Shut up. Your ride's here," the guard interrupted as a van pulled up and a man jumped out of its side door. "Give him your keys." Dr. Ripley didn't move. "Give him your keys now," he growled.
Dr. Ripley handed over the keys and watched as the man drove away in his car, while Dr. Ripley and the cooler were shoved into the van.
"Luthor wants him taken care of, so you know what to do," the prison guard addressed the van's driver as he bound and gagged Dr. Ripley.
The driver nodded, smiling in a sickening manner that mirrored Dr. Ripley's own smug expression only moments earlier. "Consider it done."
"She'll be back, she just has to walk it off," Chloe said to Clark apologetically after Lois made a defiantly theatrical exit from the barn, spouting various expletives as she expressed her frustration with Clark. "So, do I have to interrogate you too, or are you going to tell me what this is all about?"
Clark shook his head and looked at Chloe. "It's just… stupid, and it's over, and I'm kind of sick of talking about it."
"Well, it's news to me, and therefore still novel, so I'd like the full report please."
Clark played over his options. He knew Chloe better than to think she'd stop asking, but just like Lois she'd probably want to dig further once she knew the truth. On the other hand, she'd find out from Lois anyway, so he may as well tell her himself and try to downplay whatever may cast him in a suspicious light. "I don't really know what happened - she seems to think I do, and that's why she's mad at me, but all I know is that I went back to the bus station in Metropolis to look for my keys a little after eleven o'clock, and I saw Lois there wandering around like she was on something - probably was - and she asked me to take her home, and then she passed out. We hailed a cab and I carried her into her building. That's all."
"That's not all," Chloe prompted.
"What? Oh yeah, the suitcase."
"Not quite."
"What else is there?"
"Marin?" Chloe didn't want to say more than that. She felt invisible enough to Clark compared to other girls - not just Lana, but lately it was Lois too, and now it seemed he may have had somebody else in Metropolis all this time - somebody that Chloe knew nothing about.
Clark sank onto the couch again and rested his head against the back with his eyes closed. "Yeah, Marin was there, but she's… hard to explain."
"Hard to explain like meteor mutants, or hard to explain like your relationship with Lana?" Sometimes Chloe was bolder than even she thought was wise.
Clark turned to Chloe suddenly, too quickly for her to withdraw the jealousy from her expression. It wasn't lost on Clark, but it made him lose his words.
In true Chloe fashion, she backpedaled to hide her real feelings. "I'm just messing with you Clark - consider the verbal retraction printed. You don't have to answer that." She gave him what she hoped was a lighthearted and reassuring smile, but too many years of offering the same smile had made it a very thin disguise.
Clark felt that he at least owed her some explanation in regard to Marin. "No, it's okay, I guess it's not really that hard to explain. I was just visiting a friend in Metropolis a couple of weeks ago, and Marin's a neighbor. She hung around for a while and we talked. That's about it."
"You like her?" Chloe couldn't help asking.
Clark half-smiled and his cheeks colored slightly. "No…"
"Does she like you?"
Clark had been trying not to think about that, although he knew the answer. "I don't think so. I don't know, we didn't really get that personal."
"I bet she likes you," Chloe teased. "Probably has a notebook filled with 'Mrs. Kent' and lots of little hearts drawn around it! And baby names!"
"Shut up!" Clark pushed her playfully. "It's not like that, and besides she's older than me."
"Wow Clark, I never figured you to be the torrid May-December type." It was so much easier for Chloe to play the teasing little sister than it was to actually face her feelings for Clark.
"I am definitely not - and she wasn't that much older." Clark was looking sheepish now.
"So what type do you go for then?"
"I don't know."
"The beauty pageant winner type?"
"Ack, no!"
"The science geek type?"
"Um… uh uh."
"The Britney Spears type?"
"Uh… well maybe."
"Ew, shut up!" Chloe swatted his shoulder with a nearby notebook. "Tell the truth."
Clark grabbed the notebook. "Which is it, shut up or tell the truth?"
Chloe pretended to be deep in thought. "The truth," she ordered with a devious grin.
"Hmm… maybe I go for the investigative journalist type." Clark raised an eyebrow and smiled, almost patronizingly.
"Right!" Chloe laughed out loud. "Wait… what?"
Clark had just opened his mouth to reply when a bone-chilling scream sliced through the cool night air.