Part IV:

I run to you,
When I can't find my way.
And I get lost in you,
When I don't have the faith.
When I don't know what to do,
I feel like I can't make it through…

I run to you.

- - Run to You, Plus One

Clark could have run home. Could have gone into superspeed and been home in sixty seconds flat. He could have left his cherry red pick-up truck parked in front of Chloe's apartment building, on the aptly named Sullivan Street or parked it back at the dorms, but instead her opted for the three hour drive. Opted to sit alone in the confines of his truck and drive three very long hours. It was torture. An excruciating torture that he'd brought on himself.

He was desperate to read her letter. The letter she had never shown him and tucked safely away in a box of forgotten memories. He knew he shouldn't read it. Knew that it was an invasion of privacy but…he just could not help himself. He could never help himself when it concerned Chloe.

Clark's need to know overpowered his sense of decency. He simply wanted to know the words that she couldn't say to his face. Wanted to know the words that touched her so deeply she had to write them down. Wanted to know why she had never said anything, anything at all.

Settling into the silence that surrounded him, Clark listened intently for the familiar beat. Exhaling deeply, all the other sounds in the world died down to a hum and his breath and the beat of Chloe's heart filled his senses.

He chuckled softly to himself and the spell was broken. Chuckling still at the memory of her face when he told her that he memorized her heartbeat, Clark couldn't but help but feel like a voyeur. He'd been clear in explaining to her how it happened. Clear in explaining that it was just something always in the back of his mind. He'd told her of the many bad dreams he had in the aftermath of his father's death and the screaming, shrieking voice of guilt that rang loudly in his mind. He explained how he needed a soothing sound to guide him through the night. A sound that only he could hear. The sound of her heart. He remembered her face, a look comprised both of shock and dreamy tenderness, when she asked, 'why me?'

Clark answered with the first words that came to his mind.

It beats in time with mine.

How deeply profound was it to tell her that her heart beats in time with yours? That her heartbeat is the sound you need to fall asleep and keep the demons that haunt you at bay? Yet, not be able to say three little words? The three little words that you think with reckless abandon whenever you think of her, which is quite often.

As he thought on it, Clark realized that love was a grossly inadequate way of describing how he felt about Chloe. She was everything to him. All he had and wanted in a world not his own. The only person he wanted to be with in a life he dared not live alone. His shoulder when he cried, his sounding board when he needed to vent, her arms were his circle of comfort and consolation when things became too much for him. She would shoulder the weight with him, the weight of the world, simply so he didn't have to carry it alone. She was his hero. In a dangerous world where her life is often at risk, she would give it over to save his.

His heart didn't just beat in time with hers…it beat for her.

Love simply could not capture that.

It amazed him how quickly three hours passed, though once out of the confines of the city, he sped up considerably. Powered by a desperate wish to see his mom. Pulling in the open gate on the Kent Farm, Clark could see his mother standing on the porch, trying to catch a glimpse at who was coming down her roadway. Martha smiled brightly when the truck stopped in front of the house and he climbed out.

"Hi, Mom." Clark greeted her, a wide grin plastered against his pink lips. Slamming the door of his truck, he had to fight the urge to run up the steps and sweep his mother off her feet. The bright grin on her face seemed to only enhance his own.

"The prodigal son returns to visit his aging mother." Martha joked before she threw herself into her son's waiting arms.

Clark hadn't seen his mom in a couple of weeks. With his summer course load at Met U and his internship at the Inquisitor, he simply didn't have the time and he's missed her greatly. He talked to her almost every day, just hear her voice, but it wasn't the same as seeing her. Wasn't the same as seeing her look at him with motherly pride.

"Come inside." Martha said as she pulled away from him. "I was just getting ready to fix dinner." She tossed a grin over her shoulder as they climbed the stairs to go inside. "I know you're hungry."

Clark didn't answer, simply blushed and smiled. He paused briefly when Martha went inside to turn and look over the scenery. The lush green grass, the setting sun, the summer smells that he'd grown up with, and smiled warmly. "It's good to be home." Clark said softly and then stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

Nothing changed here, and part of Clark was glad. The warm, neutral earth tones, the smells of his childhood enveloped him. Suddenly, he was that little boy again. The little boy who was chased around the couch by his mother, running from her kisses, but always slow enough to be caught. He was that little boy who helped his father on the farm, milking the cows and tilling the land, sitting on the large fence with Dad and watching the sunset.

"Sweetheart?" Martha called to him. His back was turned to her as he scanned the old house. "Are you all right?"

Clark turned around slowly, a misty hue glazing his green orbs, and he smiled softly to her. "Yeah. Fine. Just…" his eyes went distant again as his voice went a little softer. "…feels…" Clark couldn't think of a word to end the statement. Couldn't quite understand what he was feeling. "…overwhelmed. I didn't expect it to…feel like this."

Martha closed the distance between them and ran and reassuring hand over her son's shoulder. She stared at him quizzically for a moment, deducing that his demeanor wasn't just about being home again. "I understand." And because she was sure he knew it, she left it at that. "Why don't you go wash up for dinner?"

Clark nodded and headed up the stairs, thankful that his mother hadn't called him on his peculiar behavior. Thankful that she understood him enough to know he drowning in a sea of emotions he couldn't comprehend at the moment – let alone discuss.

Again, for the nth time this day, Clark Kent felt as though he'd traveled back in time. Walking into his old bedroom, killing time while his mother prepared their meal, he immediately felt like a child again. Or, at least, wished he was still a child. Wished he could crawl underneath the covers of his bed and escape all the things in the world he wasn't ready to face. Wished he could wrap himself up in a cocoon of soft, plush blankets and be safe.

His mother had kept everything the same. He'd moved into the dorms this May for his summer courses and his internship. Over the past three years, he's commuted – or in his case, ran – from Smallville to Metropolis while his mother completed her tenure as a United States Senator. He would have stayed at home this summer, and until he finished school, but Martha convinced him to go. She'd sat him down one night when it was just the two of them at home, always just the two of them now, and told him that he couldn't keep putting his life on hold for her. She's been alone before, she could be alone again and that he had to move forward. His life lied far beyond the cornfields and farms of Smallville.

Clark hated the thought of his mother being all alone in their big empty house. Hated that she was alone at all, but she'd said the words with such conviction, with such a passionate fervor, touching a dormant part of his heart that he was inclined to agree.

Clark chuckled softly, remembering the way Chloe's eyes lit up when he mentioned his mother's suggestion. She was more excited about it than he was, happier to have him a little closer to her. Clark smiled and reminded her that they saw each other every day, but he knew what she meant. He hated to leave her just as much as she hated to watch him go.

The day he moved out of his house was one of the saddest days in his life. If, for no other reason, saying goodbye to everything he'd ever known. Walking into a brand new area of life without a safety net. Clark felt…alone. He felt so…alone.

Then his mother smiled at him, as did Chloe and Clark knew he wasn't alone. Martha hugged him and kissed his cheek, then wished him well and told him that this would always be his home. Martha then smiled to Chloe who was helping Clark move and told her to take care of her little boy. They all laughed, but Chloe promised she would.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling a picture of himself and Chloe huddled together off the nightstand, he sighed. "Has there ever been any significant moment of my life I haven't shared with you?" He asked the picture. He thumbed her image. "Would the moment even be significant if I hadn't shared it with you?"

"God, Kent," Chloe exclaimed, startled when she walked into her dorm room and found him sitting on her bed. "The University should start charging you for room and board. You're in my dorm room more than I am."

Clark scoffed and smiled sarcastically to her, though there was truth in the statement. "That's cute, Sullivan. And here I was waiting patiently for you with a delicious scoop." Clark rose from her bed, a sardonic smile creeping across his pink lips, and moved towards the door. "But you're obviously not interested, so I'll just go."

Chloe's hand shot out and grabbed the back of his tee shirt. "Hold on there, big boy." she said with a smile. It took some effort, and Clark's willingness, but she pulled him back to stand in front of her. "Spill."

"No, no." He grinned down at her. "Your sarcasm has wounded me deeply."

"Clark." Chloe simply said with her eyes narrowed at him in a dangerous glint. Clark was taller than she was, easily, and outweighed her considerably. However, when she stared at him like that, her jaw set, and her eyes ablaze, he was powerless to do anything but bend to her will.

"Your snooping partner becomes the enemy." Clark said cryptically.

He watched as her expression morphed to confusion and then to understanding. "You got the internship at The Inquisitor!" she exclaimed and launched herself into his arms. Instinctively, his arms came around her back and held her close, and her feet came off the floor. "That's great, Clark." She said once he set her back down on her feet.

"Yeah, Clark Kent, Investigative Reporter…"

"Has a nice ring to it." Chloe beamed up at him. "So, I get the scoop part of your statement, but the delicious?"

"I was hoping I could take my best friend out to dinner to celebrate."

"Ah." She smiled. "Where?"

"Anywhere you want to go."

The steam from his shower filled the room. The water was nearly scalding hot, not that it would have bothered him, and Clark leaned directly under the spray. The soap in his hands he rubbed vigorously over his body. His heart pounded rapidly as the memories flooded him.

Behind his closed lids, a scene played that he could never get out of his mind. Never wanted to get out of his mind.

Chloe and Clark walked back to her dorm through the Met U campus. It was well after eleven at night and the campus was still bustling with activity. They'd gone out to dinner hours ago, Chloe dragging him to some new restaurant she was just dying to go to. The atmosphere was sultry, the food delectable, and the company all he could have hoped for. They'd laughed and joked, as they usually did, enjoying being together.

"So, what's your first assignment?" Chloe casually asked on their walk. Clark hitched an eyebrow at her skeptically. "What?"

"You think I'm going to tell you? You might snake the story out from under me."

Chloe scoffed loudly. "Don't flatter yourself, Kent. I can find my own stories." She bit her lip. "Or, actually, they find me." Clark laughed at that, the sentiment was very true. Chloe never wanted to get involved with her stories, yet always did. "In any event, I was only asking in case you want to use my sources seeing as how I've lived here longer than you. But, fine, I'll keep my services to myself."

Clark smiled at her with charm. "That almost sounds like a double entendre." He watched her mouth gape open slightly, but continued before she could respond. "But did it ever occur to you, Sullivan, that I might have my own sources? I can be quite…persuasive…when I need to be."

The deep masculine sultriness that accompanied his statement caused Chloe to stop dead in her tracks. She turned to face him, an unreadable expression on her lovely face. "Really?" she challenged.

"Really."

"Care to show me how?"

Clark laughed. "Why?"

"Maybe I want to see how assertive you've become."

"Maybe you want to pick up a few tricks." The heat in his gaze nearly set her skin on fire. Since when did Clark Kent look at her that way?

"Maybe I do." Chloe readjusted herself, feeling red rising in her cheeks under the heat of his gaze. "So, come on, Kent. Show me what you've got."

Clark paused a moment, thinking it over, then an absent smile crossed his lips. "Okay," he said. "Say, uh," he began softly as he closed the distance between them. His bog body loomed over hers as she looked up into his face, but it wasn't the same as it always was. "Say that I'm getting information on a public official. From his wife. She agrees for me to come to their home and she's all alone. She's always alone."

Clark voice dropped to a whisper and his hands come to hover over Chloe's shoulder. He wasn't touching her, but she would almost swear she felt his hand on her skin, almost swear she felt the electricity his touch ignited. "We talk a little. I try to get her to open up, but she's hesitant at first. I have to make her feel comfortable, safe with me."

Clark stared longingly into her eyes, catching her gaze and holding it. "Like anything she says to me will be our little secret." He lowered his head and the word 'secret' was a puff of air against her lips.

Chloe felt herself shudder as a gasp of air escaped her parted lips. Clark's hand moved to her face, caressing her cheek lightly, while the other pressed against the small of her back, holding her firmly in place. This started out as a game to him, a little tease between him and a friend, but feeling her in his arms, seeing what he could incite in her, smelling her scent on her skin, seeing her impossibly lovely face in a new light, he couldn't help but fall under his own spell.

He dipped his head and his lips brushed over hers lightly. Chloe closed her eyes, and bit her lip slightly to stifle a moan. He was so close now. Close enough to kiss, but seeming so far away at the same time. Another breath escaped Chloe's lips and he smelled the coffee she'd drank not too long ago. "And then," he titled his head to an angle, his lips brushing her once more. "She's mine…"

He hadn't meant to say that. He'd meant to say 'she was putty in my hands', but he'd kept his eyes on Chloe's face. He'd watched her try and hold in another moan and the words slipped from his lips. Chloe opened her heavy lids slowly, staring at him with a heated gaze and he was tempted to say them again. Tempted now to say instead of she…you. You're mine.

"You," she cleared her throat, trying to slow the racing of her heart, but didn't push him away. "You wouldn't really do that with a married woman, would you?"

Clark smiled at her, taking note of the jealous tone in her voice she tried to hide. "No," his voice was a whisper. "Not with a married woman and never to that extent with any woman."

"Why me?" Chloe just had to know.

"Because you're you."

Something altered between them then. Something different, more than friendship, softer yet more intense flowed between them. Chloe looked up at him, her eyes wide and he couldn't stop himself from kissing her. Couldn't stop himself from holding her closer, not letting her run away. Bending his head slightly, he let his lips brush across hers as he'd previously done, before kissing her fully.

The world seemed to stand still the moment his lips connected to hers. Everything faded away until it was the just the two of them. Everything between them had shifted, and it was both scary and powerful, and the best feeling Clark ever experienced.

A loud clap of thunder roared overhead and a second later, an onslaught of water poured down upon them.

"Clark." Chloe whispered his name as she broke the kiss. "It's raining."

He stared down at her, unspoken words flowing between them, and nodded.

They'd parted ways inexplicably after that and never spoke of the kiss again. Clark often wondered if it actually happened or if it were some fantasy his mind had concocted. Either way, it was one of the best memories of his life. He knew that night he felt differently about Chloe. Knew without a doubt that she was more than his friend. It was several months ago, and yet he remembered it like it were yesterday.

Still hadn't told her he loved her.

"Clark?" the sound of his mother's voice carried over the now cold shower water. "Dinner's on the table."

"I'll be down in a minute." He said. He heard her footsteps retreating down the hall and turned the water off. He leaned his head against the cool tile, trying to get his emotions under wraps. He couldn't go on like this. He couldn't. He needed Chloe too much. He wanted her too much.

He had to do something.

And it had to be soon.