A/N: This chapter is a little shorter than usual only because it's been split into two. I wrote the entire thing, and then hated the whole second half, so I cruelly cut it off at the cliffie… I know, I know, boo hiss. I'm doing exams right now and I don't have tim for anything else; I'm desperately close to failing at least one of my classes, so… The second half of this chapter will be coming as soon as I get a chance to re write it.
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Clark doesn't get to see Lex the next day. In fact, when he arrives at the mansion he is told by the same disembodied voice as before that Mr. Luthor has been called to Metropolis on urgent business, and doesn't know when he'll be returning. So, for the next few days he mopes around the still spotless house while his father spends most of his time on the computer, apparently searching for an apartment and a job.
During this time, Clark hides mainly in his fortress, wondering why he came back at all. Nothing is better than when he was in Gotham; everything is worse! It was cold there, but in Smallville the wind whips over the plains and bites into your skin the way no wind could manage in a big city. There's nothing for him to do, and he's too much of a coward to go into town, so he spends most of his time sleeping or brooding.
It's almost a full two weeks since the midnight visit from Lex when he hears a car coming down the drive. He knows, unless Lex has taken to using cheap American motors, it's someone else, and assumes it's someone his dad has been expecting. Only when he hears the swift crunch of shoes on the gravel leading to the barn does his heart begin to race.
"Clark?" The cry is almost desperate, and he shoots up from where he's been lying, feet landing with a heavy thump on the floor. Obviously she hears him, because she hurries up the creaky wooden stairs.
When Chloe sees him, he barely has a chance to stand before she's slamming into him with a crushing force. She's sobbing, and Clark can barely comprehend her actions, can barely hold her up as she leans heavily against him. It's such a striking turnabout from the last time they spoke in Metropolis that he can't even breathe properly for a few moments. When he finally does, it's jagged and it hurts, but the relief is so great that he doesn't care at all.
They stand together for a few minutes until her sobbing subsides and his shirt is thoroughly soaked, and then she just clutches at him for a few moments after that.
"Chloe?" He questions, voice scratchy from disuse.
She looks up into his face and he sees a brokenness there that he's never seen before. "God, Clark. You're such a fucking asshole." The declaration is spoken almost sotto voce, and her hands are still twisted up in his shirt, so Clark really has no idea how to respond.
"Uh… I'm sorry?" It's true; he's sorry, he's been sorry for a long time now, but it sounds so pitiful in his ears that even he winces. Chloe just begins to laugh.
"God." She says again, and leans against him, still chuckling. "I can't even be mad at you." Her head is resting against Clark's shoulder, and she breathes him in. "I can't believe you're back." She says with faint surprise colouring her voice.
"Yeah… me neither." There seems to be a mutual decision to sit, so they arrange themselves at either end of the couch, facing each other. Clark reaches over the back and pulls a blanket over for Chloe, who spreads it across the both of them silently.
Clark finally opens his mouth to say something, though he's not sure what, but Chloe beats him to it.
"If you don't tell me exactly everything, I will never forgive you." The statement is short and to the point, and judging by her sharp tone, he guesses that she is deadly serious.
"Um, ok." He says, and they stare at each other. "I don't really know where to start." He feels like a lost little boy, fumbling for some kind of stability but finding he's chipped it all way himself. He has no one to blame but himself for that.
"The beginning is the usual place." She replies archly.
"Ok." He rubs his hands together nervously. The beginning. She wants him to start at the beginning. . . But what is the beginning? Where did everything start? Can he trust her with everything? There's something in him that says yes, and that same little voice also says that she's going to know if he's lying, and she's not kidding about never forgiving him. He also has to try and make up for everything that happened between them before- well- everything.
"Ok." He says again, this time with more confidence. If this is something he has to do, then so be it. "Ok."
"Third time's the charm, Clark." There's an air of expectancy around her.
"Ok. . . From the beginning. . . I'manalien."
A pause.
"What?"
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A big thank you to my lovely reviewers: lightsm00, Celtic Cross, Lizzie, and immrlucky. I love you all.