Chapter 6

Kent Farm. After a couple more days of convincing, Clark and I finally got her to come back with us to Smallville. We figured that here–where there was exponentially more privacy–we could start our own version of training.

It was almost 2 in the morning when I heard the murmurs of voices carrying to my room. Afraid that a robber had broken in or worse–Luthorcorp lackeys after Chloe, I stealthily left my room heading for the living room below where I knew Clark was sleeping. If I could warn him in time he might be able to–

When I reached the top of the steps I was relieved to hear it was only Clark and Chloe, whispering to one another. I smiled to myself, realizing how silly I was to jump to so many conclusions and turned to leave.

"I'm so scared Clark, you have no idea." Her muffled tone caught my attention, and I paused on the steps. "I pretend like I'm not. But everyday…I'm terrified of what might happen to me." Then I was sure. She was crying.

My concern overran my respect for their privacy and I settled on one of the lower steps. If I craned my neck I could see them, cuddled together before the radiating fire. Her face was in his chest, which accounted for the distortion I heard earlier. He was rubbing circles in her back, taking time to feel her and to decide upon a suitable response.

"What might happen to someone else? What if I hurt Lana or Pete?" I could barely hear her voice. "What if I kill them?"

Clark stilled for a moment, as I watched the fear reflect in him.

The last time they had this conversation, Chloe had been desensitized to her circumstance. They were surrounded by a marveling heap of rubble and edifice in some old foundry, where Bizarro Clark (a phantom clone) had left them both to die. There had been meteor rocks everywhere and Chloe was pretty knocked out cold herself. Bizarro Clark, who did not feel the ill effects of the kryptonite, was able to pick up a massive column and lift it above Clark ready to throw it atop him. Clark, writhing in pain, barely managed to stay awake and recount the situation later on. When the stone column was tossed, a large part of it collided with the ceiling breaking it in several pieces. Even if he were able to dodge one piece the others would still land on him, which in his weakened state would mean death. He saw them falling and turned away, in a fruitless effort to miss at least one. Instead of a loud crash, he heard complete silence and he slowly cocked his head to see someone before him with hands outstretched upwards. The sight amazed him; the chunks of stone merely spun in place, as a field interrupted its movement. And it was Chloe, standing with ease holding against almost a ton of weight.

She pushed it away and all of it fell to the ground shattering into even smaller parts. She stared at her hands for a moment and then at Clark, in utter amazement. Bizarro Clark chuckled and super-sped over to her, ready to toss her aside and kill her without regard. She just looked at him and rose her hand.

"Stop." She had quietly ordered. And he complied, standing before her frozen. Realizing what she done, she spoke again, telling him to go and not return. After he left, she helped Clark up, and pulled him as far away from the rocks as possible.

Falling to her knees with exhaustion, she sat blankly, both frightened and in awe of her own power. She turned to Clark who had been eyeing her suspiciously for the past few minutes. "Promise me that if I ever get out of hand that you won't hesitate to kill me before I hurt someone else."

Even though he had to leave to prevent Bizarro from causing any further damage, he stayed to talk with her for a few more moments until he fully recuperated. What she was saying deeply bothered him.

"When it happens I don't want you to think of me as Chloe Sullivan. I want you to see me the way you see the rest of them. Just another freak. Okay?" She stretched her hand out to him.

He had resisted but soon he agreed and shook her hand, though it angered him.

Here she was expressing the same fear, but in different words, with more empathy for herself. Time had passed since that day and she had now come to see that actually being selfless was harder than it was to say. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to lose everything she had ever worked for.

He brushed the tears away from her face. "You won't." His voice startled me, because it wasn't rough as I had expected. It was determined. "I'm here to look after you. I know this whole thing sounds silly to you, but I'm starting to think it might work. You should too." He reached up and stroked her hair.

"All those other people, they had vendettas and so much hate in them. But you, you're not that way. If we can get a hold of what's going on inside you, we can tame it. It's not like your gifts always have to be on. There's a dial on them and you can learn when to turn them way up just as you'll learn when to tone it down."

He held her closer. "Look at me, for example. If I squeezed even a tiny bit harder I could break a few bones. That sort of power gets to you every once in a while. You just need to know the time and place to let them lose."

"My gifts are manipulative. I mean, I could get anyone to do whatever I want. And if someone gets in my way I could just mind whip them out the window." Instead of sounding reverent she was guilty of a crime she imagine she might commit.

"Hey, I can do some stuff too." His voice was whiny and caught Chloe and I off guard.

She pulled away from him and laughed mockingly. "Clark, are you jealous?" His eyes fell. "I was joking. I can't believe—! Why?" Her eyebrows drew together in thought.

"Who knows? I'm only now getting over the Green Arrow back lash." He smiled. "And he was only pretty good at archery."

She shook her head disapprovingly at him and leaned back into the couch, his arm draped on her shoulders. They fell silent, content with themselves for a moment.

"Lets just say you get control over them—"

"Clark, are you counting your chickens?" She shot him an accusatory look.

He ignored her, continuing on. "Do you think you're going to use them?"

"What and join the spandex fetish gang with you? I think my place is behind a newspaper desk, thank you very much." She turned her focus back to the fire, which had started to crackle a bit.

"You can always do both. It would be a shame not to use all that for something good."

"Maybe. But then, who is going to cover your butt?"

"Me?" He feigned insult.

"Yeah you. God knows that all those journalism courses under your belt aren't for nothing. One day you'll be pulling in the hours at The Planet too and then who else is going to come up with plausible excuses for you? You, Mr. uh-um I was in the bathroom?" I almost laughed, but was able to catch myself. "Who knows? I'm not saying that I'd never take off my heels for some on the side hero work. If there's a really big fight, I might have to step in and save your butt again."

"So many references to my posterior. Are trying to tell me something, Ms. Sullivan?"

She smiled broadly, lightening her eyes. "Not unless it's that you are an ass."

"Oh I am, am I?" He moved over her predatorily.

"Yes, you are." She said already giggling, due to him tickling her.

"Say that—" his voice trailed off as he whispered into her ear.

"No!" She was moving spastically, desperately trying to get away from him.

"Maybe you didn't hear me. Say, Clark has—" He bent to her again.

She began to squirm more, almost falling off the couch. "Clark is a HUGE ass."

His tongue clicked against his teeth making a 'Tisk, Tisk' noise. "That's not what I asked you to say at all."

She was at tears, pushing at his shoulders to get him off her. "ER… Fine! CLARK KENT HAS A SEXY ASS!" I could have died right there, it took me by such surprise. Neither of them heard me either. Maybe I should join the CIA because apparently I'm really good at this spying thing.

He released her then and started laughing, though he didn't move from his place atop her. She called him a jerk, but didn't mean it. Because only moments before she was crying for a totally different reason and he was able to bring her out of her funk. More than anything she loved him for his personality, it was infectious to her.

They both got really silent again, which bewildered me because of how loud they'd just been. I peered past the wall again, witnessing them kiss softly and then more. Delving into each other as the fire light danced on their bodies.

This was why I came back, to make this happen. I stood to return upstairs, recognizing that I no longer had any reason to stick around.

When came to the landing it creaked. Subsequently came Clark's voice. "Pete?"

I choose not respond and walk on to his room. There I lay up in bed, unable to fall asleep. Which was silly. This was what I wanted. This was what they needed.

Still I was burning inside, cut as deep as if we were back in freshman year and I was watching then dance happily together again. I went to the Spring Formal with one of the hottest girls in our year, Erica Fox, but it paled in comparison to my experience at homecoming that same year, when the only guy Chloe was smiling at was me.

There was a part of me that wasn't willing to shed any tears for what Clark did that day, leaving her and all. Then tossing her aside like she was nothing and what they had meant nothing. Because when she fell I'd be there to help her up, that was a job I enjoyed and had for years. In turn, we forged an unbreakable bond with it.

Its horrible of me and just as selfish but it wasn't like Clark had eyes for anyone but Lana back then anyway, and it was bound to happen sooner or later.

The fact that she never learned her lesson and turned away had aggravated me. It still did. Sure I wasn't like my brothers, winning football trophies left and right, and I wasn't zipping around saving people but I could be loyal, I could never hurt her. I could never stop loving her.

It was the reason Clark and I had never gotten closer after that. Even after I learned his secret, we could do nothing but drift apart. I just hated him, as nonsensical as it sounds. Chloe was…is this perfect girl and he couldn't see past the end of his nose.

But I would never wish she hadn't come to Smallville. Yeah, maybe Clark wasn't as tight with me as I would like, but it was worth it. She alone had given me more support and happiness than anyone I knew had.

Now that he did, that he saw her, I didn't know how to take it. If we fixed it, if we saved her, would they stay together? Would they one day be married? Have children?

Where would that put me now that I wasn't the bridge but the extra wheel?

I turned over onto my front, face placed in the pillow.

I had to get over myself. This was so much bigger than my own feelings. If she dies, I could never forgive myself for messing up the process. She has to live. She does.

I just have to accept that now when she falls…

He'll be the only one who can catch her.

TBC...