- - - - -

"Mr. and Mrs. Kent! Is anyone home?"

Martha threw the door open to find someone gasping for breath, hands on the doorposts. "Lana! What is it?"

"Mrs. Kent, is Clark back?"

"Clark? No, why?" Jonathan came running around the corner.

"Lana, what's wrong? What happened to Clark?"

"I don't know. But Curtis, the boy who kidnapped him." Her voice dropped to a serious murmur. "He did something to Clark. Clark wouldn't admit it, but I know he did something, and now he's kidnapped Chloe, and Clark went after her-"

"What?" Martha shook her head rapidly. "Wha- how…?"

"I don't know, but Clark said he knew where Curtis was, and I haven't heard from him in an hour. I called his cell like seven times, and he's not answering."

"Lana." Jonathan stepped into the doorway. "Do you have any idea where Curtis may be?"

"No," Lana said despondently. "I mean- I used to know him pretty well, but after Whitney died, I haven't heard from him in ages."

"Maybe we can try Clark's phone again," Martha said, sounding unconvinced. Jonathan shook his head, silently agreeing with her; it wasn't very useful-sounding idea.

"Wait a sec." Lana put both hands on her temples, shutting her eyes. "Clark said something, when I picked up the phone…something about a foosball table?"

Jonathan shook his head. "Well that could be a myriad of places. His house, a warehouse, an arcade-"

"But it would have to be somewhere he could live without someone knowing, right?" Lana insisted. "Or somewhere he'd have access to." And then something seemed to click in her head. "Wait…" She looked up at the expectant faces of Clark's parents. "Oh my gosh…Whitney."

- - - - -

The door flung open for the second time that evening, and Clark and Chloe both blinked hard in the light again. "Time to chat, Clark," Curtis said flatly as he came striding inside.

Clark slid his hands behind his back, holding his feet close together, and hoped that Curtis wouldn't notice he'd been untied. Curtis came to stand in front of him and grabbed him by the arm. Clark saw his opportunity. He lunged forward, hitting Curtis in the middle, and driving him towards the back wall. Both boys collided with the basement wall with a SMACK that made Chloe flinch.

Curtis tried to get his hands around Clark's neck, but Clark slammed him against he wall again. "What's the cure, Curtis?"

Curtis gasped, disoriented by the impact. "There's…there's no cure-"

Clark shoved him against the wall again. "Tell me how to reverse the effects!"

Curtis gave a raspy laugh. "You can't. The meteor rocks are just too much for you-" WHAM "I wouldn't tell you even if there was a cure!" WHAM

"Clark-" Chloe whispered, noticing the trail of blood that was trickling down the side of Curtis' head.

Clark set his jaw. "Tell me what the cure is, or you're getting a dose."

He just sneered. "Clark, I'm all ready there."

"What do you mea-" Clark's words were cut off as Curtis suddenly charged at him, striking him in the gut and throwing him back onto the floor. Clark scrambled to his feet, but Curtis ran from the room and by the time Clark was on his knees, he was all ready coming back. Clark collapsed suddenly, crying out as Curtis turned a whole vial of something green and glowing onto his back.

"Clark!" Chloe screamed, crawling over to him.

"Don't you touch him, Chloe!" Curtis ordered, standing over Clark with a malicious glint in his eyes.

"Curtis, you don't get it, that stuff is deadly-"

"Chloe, I'm telling you." Curtis pulled a gun - a real one - from the back of his jeans and pointed it at her. "Don't go near him."

Chloe sat back on her ankles, watching Clark writhe silently in front of her, tears cascading down her cheeks. "Curtis, please, you're killing him…"

Curtis turned on her, eyes flashing. "Still? You're still falling for this loser, Chloe? He's just like me! He's exactly like me."

"No he's not," she whispered. "Clark is brave. And he's loyal and selfless. And now he's facing life without his parents without his friends, and still he's not-" she fixed Curtis with a meaningful stare. "He's not bitter. He's nothing like you, Curtis."

"AGH!" Curtis struck her across the face with the barrel of his gun and she toppled limply onto the floor.

"Chloe!" Clark gasped, trying to look if she was okay. But the white hot pain that shot down his back sent him into spasms again.

Curtis knelt beside him, all pretence of joviality gone. His voice was low and furious. "You think a single day goes by that the very memory of my supposed loved ones makes me sick? I hate them, Clark! When they touch me, it burns and turns me inside out. When they talk to me, my head spins. You know what? Want to know why, Clark?! Because those that are meant to love us, they'll always let us down. They leave, they die, they turn on you…it's better to feel nothing at all. It's better never to feel loved again."

Clark's voice was just as dangerous as he bit out, "You're wrong, Curtis."

"Am I?! Am I really, Clark? Then why the argument with your dad, huh? You're so freaked of never seeing him again that you practically hate him!"

The fact that Curtis had clearly been eavesdropping on his and Jonathan's argument made his stomach lurch, but what caught his attention was the second thing he'd said. "What do you mean, lose him?" He gasped. "Why- why would I lose him?" Had Curtis heard Clark talking about his dream? The idea made him feel sick.

"Don't be stupid, Clark, I know that your dad's running for Senator. He's going to disappear to Metropolis and you're never going to see him again. You hate him for it. I know, my dad left too!"

"Is that why you picked me?!" Clark demanded. The Kryptonite was evaporating slowly off his shirt in the cold, damp air and a little of his energy returned. "Because of our fathers?"

Curtis laughed again, harsh and low. He jerked his head towards Chloe. "Did you know I asked her to Spring Formal? Took all my guts, but I managed to ask her. She turned me down. I asked why, and do you know what she said?" his lip curled as he spoke. "She said 'Curtis, sometimes you make me nervous. You're so bitter.'" He kicked Clark sharply in the back and his whole body seized up as he cried out. "Chloe was scared of me, Clark! Scared! I loved her, I was nuts about her. She was the only girl I ever fell for, we were perfect; her mom left her, my dad left me, I knew she was the only one who would ever understand me. And she threw my pain in my face! And went to the Formal with YOU!"

He paced a few moments, fuming. "If she knew what a freak you are, Clark, how bitter you're capable of being, she'd be just as scared." He crouched down next to him, eyes glinting in the dim light. "If Chloe knew who you really were, she'd be terrified. You're better off without her, Clark. We're better off without everyone."

He stood up and Clark managed to work up the energy to speak again, the words coming out in spurts. "I thought- you said you…care about Chloe." He nodded limply to where Chloe was lying unconscious on the floor. "Is that what you…call tough love?"

Curtis snorted. "It's just what I've been telling you, Kent. Everyone you care about lets you down. Even the girl of our dreams." He smirked down at Clark, and studied the empty vial in his hand. "Clark, I picked you because Chloe thinks you and guys like you are so great just because they're better at pretending they're not bitter." He spat the word out. "We're all bitter. I've just embraced it. And sooner or later, you will too."

"I won't," he whispered tightly. "I'm never giving up on the people I care about. I'll take anything on for them." He braced himself for another blow. The fire in Curtis' eyes seemed indicative that one was coming, but it didn't.

"Yeah right," he sniffed, and walked out of the room.

Clark lay there for several moments, wishing the pain would recede faster. Limply, he pushed himself onto hands and knees and crawled slowly across the cold floor. "Chloe? Chloe…" He tried to flip her over without exactly touching her but his fingers brushed her cheek, and he flinched away. He x-rayed her chest and saw her heart beating steadily. He pressed his forehead to the cold floor, trying to pull himself together.

Eventually, he had the strength to stand, leaning against one of the damp walls. Still, Curtis hadn't returned. Then he heard the clink of vials outside the dark doorway. Muscling through the pain, he made it to the doorway, and glanced around, x-raying the whole area. He wasn't anywhere. Finally, Clark's eyes fell upon a tall shelf he couldn't quite penetrate. He blinked. It was a shelf of lead paint.

Reaching for a wrench from one of the worktables, he walked silently through the room, giving Curtis' makeshift lab a wide berth at seeing several chunks of Kryptonite scattered on the tabletop. He approached the shelf slowly, raising the wrench over his shoulder, then spun around the corner. Nothing. Just a pile of old boxes.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around his neck. He tried to swing the wrench, but Curtis grabbed his fist and smacked it against the shelf until Clark was forced to let go. Chocking, he tried to pry Curtis' arm off.

"Curtis-" He gasped. "You don't want to- kill anyone!"

Curtis laughed through clenched teeth. "I don't care. I lost my diploma over a couple lousy chemicals and a microscope. I lost my dad, my mom, Whitney…" Clark gasped again, clenching his eyes shut. "Lana, who was supposedly my friend, I haven't heard from her in a year. And Chloe…" He jerked hard on Clark's neck. "They don't care anymore, so why should I?"

Curtis pulled what looked like a knife from behind his back. Without pausing, he plunged it into Clark's shoulder, and Clark knew instantly what it really was. Clark screamed as the long, thin piece of Kryptonite sunk inches into his unprotected shoulder. Curtis let him go, sending him to the floor with a sharp SMACK then just stood there, not smirking, not glaring…just watching.

"I laced it with adrenaline. You won't die instantly, give Chloe some time to wake up or wait for your parents to find you. Maybe you'll make it, maybe you won't." He shrugged. "Just- go, Clark. And take all your heroic pretences and lies with you. 'Cause your façade of being something great, something special? It makes me sick."

As he turned to walk away, Clark couldn't even find the willpower to say anything to him. Despite the adrenaline Curtis had used, Clark could feel his consciousness ebbing away. The room swirled around him as he panted for air.

A loud CRASH followed by the tinny sound of metal hitting concrete came screaming through his ears. He couldn't look up, but suddenly felt someone beside him, breathing hard. "Clark! Oh my- Clark…"

Clark opened his eyes halfway, and whispered thickly, "Chloe…"

Chloe began to cry, hands fumbling feverishly around the Kryptonite protruding from Clark's shoulder. "Clark- what do I do, what do…tell me what to do."

"Chloe…Chloe my dad- ah!" His body convulsed again, his forehead breaking out in a cold sweat. Black lines spread from where the Kryptonite had penetrated his skin.

"Your dad?"

"Chloe, my phone!" Clark cried, hands clenching and unclenching. Chloe sprung to her feet and ran to where Curtis lay unconscious on the floor, a paint bucket lying in a pool of baby blue beside him. She rummaged through his pockets till she pulled out Clark's cell phone, holding down the #2 button. She scrambled back over to Clark, holding the phone tight to her ear.

"It's okay, Clark, it's okay, just hold on," she whispered shakily. "Yes, hello? Hello?"

"Chloe?"

"Mrs. Kent! You have to come, you've got to come now!" Chloe fought to keep her voice even, but her tears chocked her as she spoke. "Clark, he's- it's Kryptonite, I don't know what-"

"Where are you?" Martha sounded exactly how Chloe felt.

"Uh- Fordman's, the Fordman's basement!"

"Chloe, listen to me. Lana figured out you two might be there, Jonathan's going to arrive any minute. You have to keep Clark conscious."

Chloe looked down at Clark who shuddered again, head lolling weakly to the side. "How do I do that? Do- should I pull the Kryptonite out?"

"Can you?"

"I don't…I can try." Clark's head jerked forward he cried out in agony. Chloe's panic rose. "I have to do something!"

"Do it, Chloe." Martha's voice shook as she spoke. Chloe heart wrenched when she realized she must have heard Clark cry out.

"Kay, hang on a sec." Chloe put the phone down, leaning over Clark and grabbing the Kryptonite in both hands. The moment she touched it, Clark's voice rose another level as he screamed at the ceiling, his whole chest heaving. Chloe yanked her hands back as though she'd been stung. Snatching up the phone again, she panted into the receiver, feeling utterly helpless, "Mrs. Kent, I can't! The minute I touch him- it hurts him too much, it'll kill him! What do I do?!"

Chloe's head spun around as suddenly the door to the basement came slamming open. She almost broke down crying all over again when she saw Jonathan standing in the doorway, but she managed to shakily explain he'd arrived to Martha, then got her to agree to hang up.

Jonathan came sliding to his knees beside Clark. "Clark! Clark, can you hear me?"

Chloe had never seen Clark look so lethargic. His body still trembled feverishly as though it were trying to excrete the meteor rock from his system, but he couldn't handle the pain much longer.

"Dad- Dad, help me…" Clark gasped, hand scrambling for his father's arm, then letting go without the energy to cry out again.

"Clark…" Jonathan tried to grab for the Kryptonite, but Chloe stopped him.

"Mr. Kent don't! Curtis did something to him, if you touch him it's just- it's agony to him. It's like Kryptonite."

Jonathan's face paled, but Chloe was relieved to see that he was thinking hard. Then something clicked behind his eyes. "Chloe, Lana's upstairs with Mrs. Fordman. You need to keep them from coming down here, or we run the risk of them discovering Clark."

Chloe blinked hard, uncomprehending. She was so tempted to say "what does it matter if he dies?" but hated herself for even thinking that.

Jonathan seemed to know what was on her mind. "Chloe," he said seriously. "He's not going to die. Go on, hurry." Chloe scrambled to her feet, and forcing herself not to look back, ran up the stairs, slamming the door behind her.

Jonathan's breath shook as he leaned over Clark. He remembered when he and Martha had pulled the Kryptonite bullet from Clark's shoulder. His agony had rendered him unconscious not ten minutes after he'd been shot. He realized that Curtis must have put adrenaline on the tip of the Kryptonite to keep Clark conscious. His blood boiled at the thought, and yet- it was his son's only hope.

"Clark, listen to me." Clark's eyes were half closed and he panted, shoulders heaving spasmodically. "Son, you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

A bead of sweat slid down the side of Clark's head and behind his ear, and he flinched, eyebrows knitting, as though caught in a bad dream. "Dad…" he whispered. Jonathan leaned down to hear him. "I'm…I'm sorry."

Jonathan felt his throat closing. "I'm sorry too, son."

In one swift motion, Jonathan grabbed Clark by the shoulders, and hoisted him off the floor. Clark cried out faintly the moment he made contact with his father's hands, but he seemed too weak to react violently anymore. Pausing only briefly, praying this was the right action to take, Jonathan grabbed the sliver of Kryptonite and began to shove it into Clark's shoulder.

Clark chocked. His head jerked back, his entire body going rigid, but Jonathan kept pushing. When it penetrated the back of Clark's shoulder, the agonizing scream tore almost by force from his chest. He lurched, everything in him fighting to be unconscious.

Grabbing the point of the sliver, Jonathan pulled as hard as he could, whispering gently, "Hang in there Clark, hang on."

With a final tug, the Kryptonite came out and Jonathan hurled it across the basement as hard as he could. Clark slumped forward instantly, tears running down his cheeks. Jonathan caught him, holding him close, fingers searching for a pulse. There wasn't one.

"Clark…son, come on." Jonathan wrapped his arms around his son's shoulders, hugging him tight to his chest. "Son, you can do this. You can. You can do this."

Clark stirred, but Jonathan didn't look down, he just kept holding him tight. "Clark, c'mon…" There came a long, unbearable silence that lasted several minutes. In those short minutes, every argument, every mistake, every shade of guilt seemed blur into unimportance. Jonathan's hands went up and down Clark's back and shoulders over and over, willing him to revive.

Finally, Clark's chest heaved and he took in a great, gulping breath, head still resting limply against Jonathan's chest. He coughed, blinked hard, then shut his eyes again. "Dad…"

Jonathan closed his eyes, a single tear of relief cascading down his cheek and into Clark's tousled, sweaty hair. "I'm here, Clark."

- - - - -